Eat the Rich

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Eat the Rich

Post  The Curtain on Mon May 04, 2009 11:52 pm

Vladimir stood on top of Wessien/Stein Finacial. It was the largest stock broking firm in all of Auroura City. Vladimir was now in full uniform, while below him members of his organization, also in uniform, placed bombs stragetically all over the building. "Hurry up!" He yelled to them. "I want to get out of here quickly!"
"Ready sir." Said one of the uniform-clad CPAC members. "Alright. Let's go!" Said Vladimir waving his arms, telling all of his people to get out of the building. Then The Curtain grabbed onto a rope ladder hanging from a helicopter and it flew away to a safe distance.
Then, with a boomb, the building dissappered,one flight at a time, falling one on top of the other.
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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  Frederich Glint on Tue May 05, 2009 12:09 am

Frederich Glint was sitting across the desk from his publicist in a handsome office in the finnancial district. His publicist was a man in his early thirties with beady eyes and slicked back hair by the name of Samuel LeBlanc. "Now, couldn't your costume," LeBlanc was saying, gesturing to Glint's outfit. "Couldn't it be a little more--I dunno--more stylish? Less G.I. Joe, with a little more for the ladies? I mean, you're a muscular guy. Maybe you could have bare arms, or show your pecs more or something?"

"Sam, I'm radioactive," said Glint, tilting his head. "The only thing keeping you from cancer right now is this costume and the fact that it covers all of me."

"Uh-huuuh. I see," said LeBlanc slowly. "So, is that a maybe, or...?"

An explosion caught Glint's eye. "Jesus Christ! I'll be back, Sam," he said, and then shot out the window as a beam of light, headed rapidly toward the site of the bombing. Seeing the helicopter, he shot toward it, illuminating the sky around him.
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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  The Curtain on Thu May 07, 2009 8:03 pm

The light caught Losev's eye. He knew right away who was after him. "Shit. Glint." He turned to his men in the helicopter. "Glint!" He shouted. Two of them climbed down the rope ladder, rocket lauchers in hand. They fired at the light, around the light and in front of the light, in hopes that they'd hit Glint.
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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  Frederich Glint on Fri May 08, 2009 7:51 pm

The rockets passed through Glint. He was litterly made out of light at the moment; it was the only he could fly. However, to actually be able to do anything to stop the helicopter, he'd need to change back into matter. Which meant becoming vulnerable to their weapons. Also, being unable to fly.

...why did they have to have a helicopter?

He'd taken most of his energy from the light in LeBlanc's office, and it was wearing away a little. He dimmed slightly, and shot in front of the helicopter. "Land this craft immediately," he said, hovering in front of it. "This is an arrest, on behalf of Aurora City and the Society of Crusaders."
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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  The Curtain on Fri May 08, 2009 10:32 pm

Vladimir grabbed the radio and turned on the loud speaker. "I don't think I will Mister Glint. I'm rather happy not going to jail." Said Vladimir's voice, booming. The henchmen on the ladder ran out of rockets, and so, they quickly dropped their lauchers and were handed mechine guns from those still in the helicopter, and resumed firing.
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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  The Soul Mender on Sat May 09, 2009 2:02 am

Dr. Richard McCartney had been born in Sun Valley, Idaho, and attended college and practiced psychology in Durham, North Carolina. The transition from the former to the latter, resort town to functional city, had been immense, but that shock could not have prepared him for the quantum leap between small city and metropolis. The size and population of Aurora City were incomprehensible to him, a great, thrumming mass of humanity that operated on a scale that he would have called impossible if he had not seen it with his own eyes. He walked down the sidewalk slowly, staring in wonder at the towering skyscrapers as city-dwellers rolled their eyes at the "tourist".

And yet his first few hours in the area were not to be the uneventful familiarizing he had envisioned when he'd asked the taxi to drop him off several blocks from his prospective apartment, for suddenly a resounding boom and the sound of screeching metal sounded a block away. Alarmed, Richard looked into the sky and gasped; a vast building was crumbling into oblivion, shedding deadly concrete and glass faster than a labrador could shed fur. There were screams as people on the streets ran for cover, fear etched into their faces, but though his makeshift costume remained in his suitcase The Soul Mender was no civilian. Taking a single, quick breath, he allowed his survival response to empower him and dashed toward the falling wreckage.

The cross street was like a scene from Independence Day, covered in craters, rubble, and bodies. The screams of the injured rang out, their crushed limbs and sliced bodies paining them as they lay in the desolation. A few other brave souls were already trying to extract the survivors from the destruction, and Richard set quickly to helping, pulling a woman whose bloody face and crushed leg spoke of damage from falling glass shards and a fist-sized chunk of mangled rebar away from danger. Bearing her gently to avoid causing further pain, he opened his suitcase and, without hesitation, tore up one of his dress shirts, tying the makeshift bandage over his charge's gashed cheek. Working swiftly he pulled the metal strips that held his suitcase open out of it and took another strip of shirt, fastening the construction into a splint for her leg.

He thought about giving her some of the morphine he carried, but he didn't know her medical history or how she would react to it, so he decided against it. Instead he removed a small canister, placed it near her mouth, and gently asked her to breathe in. The calming agent worked even faster when inhaled, and its effect was almost instantaneous; the woman propped her back against the wall, her ragged gasps turning to a steady, pulsing inhalation-exhalation process. Her body would be able to mend itself without all its sensors screaming of crisis, and she would be safe in the alley, in full view of but protected from the street.

Turning around he dashed back into the rubble, ready to render more aid, then spotted something moving in the sky, a shimmering light. He wondered fleetingly if it was one of Aurora's legendary heroes, but a moment later his question was answered for him. A barrage of rockets flew at the light, passing cleanly through it but heading straight for the streets below. Looking back around him, Richard realized that no one else had noticed the incoming explosives. Tackling the man closest to him into the dirt, he yelled as loudly as he could.

"Look out! Everyone down!"

Seconds later the rockets hit the street, kicking up clouds of dust and sending more chips of glass, concrete, and metal flying. Richard winced as he heard a brief scream of pain, then another; the mess was going to be much, much uglier even than it had been before. A moment later the muffled sounds of gunfire broke out far overhead, and bullets striking another building sent down more shards of glass. Still he remained on the ground, the other man carefully shielded by his body; he couldn't help the wounded if he was injured himself, and unless the situation worsened in a preventable way it was best to wait out the hostilities.

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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  Frederich Glint on Sat May 09, 2009 5:06 am

Glint sighed as the bullets passed through him. "I'm going to add resisting arrest to your charges," he shouted. If he could manage to get the helicopter down, anyway. He zipped backward and up a couple of yards, moving diagnally through the sky. He had to--as soon as he changed back into matter to attack, he was going to drop.

The astronaut-turned-Crusader lifted his phantom hands, taking aim at the helicopter. Then, he turned back from light and fired a blazing beam of energy from the knuckles of one of his gloves, aiming for the helicopter's blades. He dropped down through the air immediately, but he had long since learned how to correct his aim for this.

The chaos going on bellow him he did not see, nor even realize. He never had thought about the brutal reality of battles like these for the civillians around them.
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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  The Curtain on Sat May 09, 2009 4:48 pm

The helicopter shook and began to drop. Vladimir quickly dropped the radio and threw on a parachute. "Farewell comrades". He said jumping out with the only parachute. He dropped for a bit, then pulled the relase and slowly, and gentlely landed ontop of a skyskrapper, detached the chute and ran into the night.
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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  Frederich Glint on Sat May 09, 2009 6:56 pm

Glint gritted his teeth behind his mask, torn between giving chase to the Curtain, or trying to stop the crashing helicopter. He decided on the latter. He turned back into light to fly up a little ways and then, becoming matter once more, fired a couple more blasts of energy at it, in an attempt to land it on the roof of a lower building. Or, at least, to have it crash there, where the damage would be less than if it crashed into the streets.
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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  The Soul Mender on Sun May 10, 2009 1:06 am

Eventually, the barrage ceased; Richard looked up, waited a moment, and listened hard. Quickly he ducked again, a mangled portion of helicopter blade landing several inches from his face. Above him he could hear the thrumming of the damaged vehicle as it began to spiral downwards; if it struck the streets, no one would be left alive when the gas tank exploded and engulfed the ruins in a curtain of flame. He could not have known of Glint's efforts above him, and thus he was certain that he needed to clear everyone out of the street before the ultimate projectile killed them all. Standing, he hauled the dirtied and bruised man below him back to his feet, then turned away and swiftly dashed between the craters of the road, looking for anyone who was, thus far, still surviving.

"There's an incoming helicopter, heading right for us! Everyone needs to get out of the street!"

As people began to run for cover between the buildings, Richard heard a groan nearby. Turning toward the sound, he pushed bits of concrete out of the way to uncover a man in his mid twenties, dressed in a postman's garb, rocking back and forth and holding his bleeding left leg; nothing remained below the knee, and it was easy to guess where one of the rockets had exploded as well as the source of one of the pained cries. Already the man was turning pale; he was losing a lot of blood, and if that wasn't stopped he would die. Heaving him into his arms with all the care he could muster, Richard staggered back across the ruins, trying not to trip but badly off-balance because of the man's weight. Nevertheless, he managed to reach the safety of the alley, laying his next charge down beside the previous one.

He recognized with sadness that he didn't have time to go back for anyone else; the helicopter would hit the ground at any second, he was sure, and dying wouldn't save anyone. Taking several more strips of shirt, he tied them over the broken end of the man's lost leg, then cut a strip of leather lining out of his suitcase and tied it around his charge's thigh as a tourniquet. It would be enough to slow the bleeding, which might save him if the paramedics arrived soon. Hesitant to give morphine but recognizing that this man's injury was far graver than the woman's, he made another snap decision. Reaching for another canister, he held it close to the man's face and opened it. Almost instantly the postman's head lolled back, his nerves overpowered, in a darkness that knew no pain; knocking him out would prevent him from thrashing and reopening any wounds that clotted.

It occurred to Richard that the helicopter hadn't made much of a sound if it had hit the street, but his questions were answered a moment later when he looked up and saw the wreck fall onto the roof of a three-story parking garage. It crashed partially through the first level, crushing a car beneath its weight, then lay still. Whoever remained inside it was probably dead; they would be lucky to get off paralyzed and concussed. It was clear that heroic intervention had been responsible for this happier turn of events; the helicopter would have hit the street moments ago, and had not fallen in such a way that its fuel tank was crushed and exploded. That light, The Soul Mender knew, had been a hero.

But that did not change his task, and he headed back into the moonscape to hunt for more survivors and show the way as soon as the first ambulances arrived. He hoped this would be soon, for many lives would depend on it...

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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  Frederich Glint on Sun May 10, 2009 2:34 am

Frederich Glint sighed with relief as the helicopter landed on the parking garage. Relief, and fatigue. It was dark, and the street lights were so far bellow him--he was running out of energy... Ah. More relief. They were getting closer. That was good. That was...

With a start, Glint realized that he was still dropping through the air. It had slipped his mind that he was still made of matter. About twenty feet from the ground, he changed back into energy, halting his descent, and hovering beneath a streetlamp, which flickered as he absorbed its light.

For the first time, he got a look at the bodies and rubble bellow him, and his eyes widened behind their glass visor. He could hear the sirens of police and firemen and ambulances coming toward the district. They wouldn't be enough for all this, however, Glint was certain. He saw a little child's hand sticking out beneath a massive rock, covered in lacerations, a frazzled doll just out of its reach. The arm lay still. Covered in blood. Biting his lip, Glint turned his face away from the sight.

He spotted a man, apparently uninjured, moving about the rubble. Someone trying to find survivors. Glint's heart lifted a little and he sped over to the man, the street lamp going out behind him.
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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  The Soul Mender on Sun May 10, 2009 5:02 am

There was a curious rhythm to it: lift person, bandage person, bring person to ambulance. Richard went through two shirts total by the time the ambulances began arriving; his suitcase was a wreck after all the things he'd made out of its intentionally mangled parts. He'd lost count of the times he'd whispered softly in someone's ear that it would be alright, whether it would be or not. The stench of death hung in the air, but he was careful to focus only on the lives that remained. It was, and would forever remain, beyond his power to aid those who'd passed beyond mortal existence, but there were many, so many, who had not yet fallen so far. He and perhaps six others had begun the rescue efforts, and it was a relief to see how much faster they could work with the aid of the recently arrived paramedics.

Once again he picked his way through the rubble, listening intently and shoving bits of debris aside with his foot in the hopes of uncovering some living soul. The dead would have to be identified, of course, but the paramedics could handle that once every last one of the injured was safely on the way to the hospital. That moment was fast approaching, if not already arrived, for try as he might Richard could not locate any sign of further survivors. It was both satisfying and disheartening, an end to labor and a moment of silent grief and anger. Here was a city that needed him, certainly; in the first hour he'd spent walking around, he'd watched a building explode, evaded a heavy-weapons firefight, and rushed people away from a crashing helicopter. He had no idea why what had happened had happened; it all seemed so pointless, such a callous waste of life.

Perhaps the city needed him, but the sheer magnitude of its obvious evils overwhelmed him. The thing that forced him to stay, he acknowledged, was that he needed the city. It was time for him to pay for mistakes he'd made, to use devices he'd abused, however accidentally, for positive purposes. If he spent a few years walking around and picking up the pieces after people blew one another apart, so be it; he would still be useful, still have a purpose, still be helping. Bringing his awareness away from these thoughts, he looked around and realized that he was quite a ways down the street; chuckling slightly at his absent-mindedness, he turned to head back. After all, people who had been in the bottom floors of the building might still be trapped, and he needed to see things through to the end.

Suddenly, off to Richard's left, a streetlight fizzled into nothingness. He started, turning to stare at it. There didn't seem to be any damage to nearby power lines, whether above or below the pavement, and as far as he could tell there was no rational reason for such an event. Of course, he was in Aurora City now; things happened there that had no reason involved at all, and he knew that he'd best beware of them. He reached toward his back, groping for a quarterstaff that wasn't there, and cursed; the weapon was in his shipped luggage, which would arrive in a few days. Instead he positioned himself in a fighting stance, right leg in front of right leg to put his body on a diagonal and minimize target area to enemy strikes but with the legs spaced widely enough to keep him steady and centered. He curled his hands into fists, ready to make a multitude of strikes from the position.

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  Frederich Glint on Sun May 10, 2009 4:29 pm

Glint floated down into view, landing softly before Richard. He held up his hands in a gesture of friendship. "Woah, there," he said. "I'm one of the good guys, there, bud. Frederich Glint. You may have heard of me. I make the news a lot." The edges of his eyes crinkled like he was smiling, though the smile itself was hidden behind his mask.
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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  The Soul Mender on Mon May 11, 2009 4:55 am

Slowly, Richard lowered his hands. He had revealed nothing special about himself save that he had taken some form of self-defense class, and even then most villains would have taken the opportunity to attack him while he was away from aid if they wished to destroy him. Besides, he remembered reading something about Glint; the man had no doubt been the light that had caused, then prevented catastrophic damage from, the helicopter crash. Thinking for a moment, he sized the superhero up, wondering about the bulky suit he wore before remembering something about "catastrophic levels of cosmic radiation". Here was one of Aurora's heroes in the flesh; it would be wise to make a good impression.

"Richard. Richard McCartney. It's good to see a positive presence on the streets; I've got no idea what was going on up there, but I do know that you saved a lot of people down here by moving that helicopter, and for that I thank you. I apologise for my initial reaction; after all the rockets, I'm a bit jumpy."

There was no harm, Richard judged, in revealing his civilian identity; while he planned to keep his superheroic self a secret for his own safety, it would seem odd if he refused to identify himself, and he would carefully modulate his voice when in costume to ensure that little resemblance remained. Besides, as a bystander he could maintain a relationship with Glint which would be far different were he in the same "career", perhaps gaining useful information without having to soil his reputation by asking.

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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  Frederich Glint on Mon May 11, 2009 5:18 am

"Understandable," said Glint, putting his hands on his hips and turning his face toward the wreckage behind him. "Y'know, Dick, these are dark times. Darker than dark. Pitch black. We're all a little jumpy... Anyway, I saw you trying to help. It's good to see. Lifts my spirits. You're a good man, Dick. A good man. ...you live here, or are you just visiting, Dick?"
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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  The Soul Mender on Tue May 12, 2009 3:20 am

Richard winced as the hero called him "Dick"; having finished medical school and heard one too many crass jokes along the way, the name conjured images he really didn't want in his head while doing something important, or really at any time, for that matter. Putting such perversity out of his head, he focused on Glint's words, and could readily agree with his assessment of events. It seemed that times were indeed dark, especially since he didn't look particularly surprised at the level of devestation. Were such things routine, or just a culmination of a recent crime spree? Richard sincerely hoped that it was the latter.

"I don't presently have a house here, but I'm planning on moving in; I was on the way to check out my apartment when things went to hell. How often does this sort of thing go down? You say times are pitch black, but what does that mean for the average joe?"

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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  Frederich Glint on Tue May 12, 2009 1:38 pm

"Well," said Glint, turning back toward Richard. "This one was a terrorist attack. Not too common, but we've seen this guy before. Some sort of Communist terrorist group... But, this isn't what usually goes down. I mean, we've had serial murders, and kidnappings--we have those a lot--and muggings and what-have-you. Same thing as any big city, Dick. We just have a couple of the more flamboyant loons who do it."

He paused breifly. "So, what district is your apartment in? Not one of these buildings, I hope?" he said, jokingly, as he waved at the battered buildings surrounding them.
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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  The Soul Mender on Tue May 12, 2009 10:43 pm

"Communist terrorists? What, did they miss the fifties?"

Richard was incredulous; he'd been prepared for big sweeping capes and mad scientists and maybe even huge beasts and dimensional travel or something else from the pages of a comic book, but communist terrorists? Communism would only work if no one had any ambition, anyway; Stalin was a dictator, not a communist, and even Lenin wasn't perfect in that regard. That people still clung to such beliefs was disturbing, and led him to believe that the leader of the group must be charismatic indeed. Turning his attentions from that particular case to the others Glint described, he winced inwardly at the mention of 'big city problems', with which he had no experience. A high level of kidnappings was worrying, especially in a superpowered city; it probably meant that one or more organized groups was making it into either a business or a hobby, and either was equally bad.

"No, not here. About two blocks east and a block north, I believe. I figured it's central enough to let me get to work easily and also access a little recreation, but maybe it's a little close to the priority targets of these 'flamboyant loons' you were talking about. Communist terrorists; and I thought the bicycle thief gangs in Durham were a problem... but this job is too good to pass up, and if I can give a little help on the side that's a plus."

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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  Frederich Glint on Tue May 12, 2009 10:52 pm

Glint nodded. "The communists... Ah, well, I'm not too much into politics, Dick, I must admit. I never really followed elections and the like," said Glint. "But, I figure if you can't make your point without blowing up buildings, then you must not have much of a point to make." He laughed heartily, obviously finding something about the idea funny.
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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  The Soul Mender on Wed May 13, 2009 10:08 pm

There's a certain irony in it, to be sure, but it would be more amusing if it didn't involve people getting killed. Somebody needs to figure out where these crackpots are meeting and put a stop to them. Or has it even been proven who is behind the attacks? I hope no one's been foolish enough to give them authorization as a legal party, or something."

It was a problem that arose out of civil and political freedoms; criminals could exploit the laws as well as, if not better than, the forces of justice. Richard had seen good doctors taken down for "malpractice" that was a sham for the sake of profit merely because they knew how to play to the jury, and with bigger crimes inevitably came bigger actors and more disturbing escapes from punishment. It was the reason vigilantes thrived; costumed heroes who wanted to be lauded as such had to, for the most part, bring in criminals alive and wait to see if they were even convicted. Many would be able to escape at that point, or receive a jail sentence that was easily evaded, and thus a large group of those who might have followed the publicly approved path of justice instead invented their own brutal versions. Criminals ended up dead or maimed, and it often wasn't a long slide from doing that sort of thing into a villainous career.

Richard was not a vigilante; he had killed one man in his life while influenced by the same pheromones he now carried, and the experience would forever hang over him like a dark cloud, soaking up his every triumph in a combined storm of self pity and self loathing. Given the choice between killing a criminal to stop him forever or sending him to prison and knowing he'd be out in six months, he would still choose the latter; the former would be more effective in the short run, but would undermine the simultaneous rule of law and freedom that governed society, and he would become an enemy to all, even himself. Besides, his prime goal wasn't arrests anyway; he lacked the skills for gathering evidence to get perpetrators convicted, and though he was a proficient warrior he disliked fighting. No, his task was to heal others, and perhaps in the process mend his own rent soul.

"Do they usually operate on such a scale. or is this a bigger... operation than normal?

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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  Frederich Glint on Thu May 14, 2009 1:23 am

"Well, I don't know too much about that," said Glint. "See this guy, the Curtain is what they call him--I haven't ran across him too much. But, from what I know, he blows up a building or two every now and then, trying to make some point about Capitalism being bad. ...I'm not really sure how that follows, but, then again I'm not an idealist lunatic." He laughed again as a policeman approached.

"Excuse me," said the officer. "Did either of you witness the attack?"

"Vaguely. I was a ways away when it happened," said Glint. He pointed to the helicopter. "That's the crooks' get-away. I managed to take it down. The leader escaped. There are some men inside it. I'm not sure of their condition."

"Thank you. Mister Glint. However, we have to talk to witnesses, and make certain that these were really the guilty parties," said the officer. He looked to Richard. "How about you, sir? Did you see what happened?"

"They tried to get away in a helicopter," mumbled Glint. "That's not enough proof...?"
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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  The Soul Mender on Thu May 14, 2009 1:48 am

Richard sighed inwardly, though outwardly remaining composed. This was exactly the problem with a country where idealists had written the laws; it was a great thing to have freedoms, but the execution of justice by necessity was inefficient at best, and could easily be exploited or misunderstood. He tucked away the alias of "The Curtain" for later research; the man, at least he assumed it was a man, was thus far his only lead on major threats to the city, and it sounded like wherever he went he left a trail of people needing help.

"Yes, officer, I saw it all. I was headed to my apartment when I heard an explosion and looked up to see that building exploding. I ran over to try and help people get out of the area, dragged one to safety, then happened to look up and see a volley of rockets coming out of that helicopter, the one that's crashed now. They hit the street, killed and maimed several more people, and then the people in the helicopter's crew opened up with machines guns, shattering glass on that building across the way.

Glint managed to take down the helicopter, but someone parachuted out and got away while he stopped it from hitting the street and killing anybody else. I've been here trying to help with the cleanup since, but that about summarizes what I know of the crime."


Richard delivered his testimony with a clear, confident voice; what he was saying was the absolute truth, and looked the policeman right in the eyes, reassuring him of his good intentions and honesty. A positive relationship with law enforcement was also important when beginning a crime-fighting career, and starting off on the right foot even in his civilian identity was vital, as that too would allow him access to information and perhaps even resources with time. In addition, it was vital that he know which cops actually cared and which were prone to taking bribes and the like; in an arrest situation, that might determine whether or not the perpetrator ever reached trial.

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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  Frederich Glint on Thu May 14, 2009 4:06 am

While Richard spoke, the officer took out a little note book and jotted down some notes. "Thank you for your time, sir," he said when Richard was finished. "Have a... pleasant night." He said the last part somewhat falteringly before turning and walking away to go interview another witness who was sitting in the back of a near by ambulance with her arm in a sling.

Glint watched the policeman go before looking back at the wreckage, wondering just how many of the dead had been killed by the resulting fight between him and the criminals, and not the initial bombing. "What a mess," he mumbled. "I'm guess I'm gonna be here tomorrow helping 'em clean it up, and clear it away, and get this place back to normal... It's a shame that people do things like this, isn't it, Dick? That they can't just coexist peacefully..."
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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  The Soul Mender on Thu May 14, 2009 4:31 am

Richard snorted at the thought of a "pleasant night", unable to suppress it this time; he would have one hell of a lot to think about before he slept, if he even managed to do so. He'd already learned more than he ever wanted to know about Aurora City, but whether he truly belonged there remained to be seen. So much death, some much senseless destruction, and Glint was clearly almost used to the whole affair, as he'd previously noted. It was all a great mess, far greater than the physical rubble or the broken bodies or the rows of ambulances; it was a mess of minds, a conflict that might never see resolution. And that was the way it had to be, for anything else would be inhuman.

"As long as there are people who care more for ideals than for other human beings, this sort of thing will happen. Of course, a lot of great people fall under that category. It'll never change, it can't be stopped; we can just hope to slow it down a little, and that's our contribution for the one and only life we've got. It's an irony: people like you and me devote our lives to making those of others better, but what do the others do? What's their purpose? Do they make life better for someone else in turn, or do they squander the gift? What's the damn purpose of life, anyway? Sometimes, even within my career, I wonder.

But it's getting late, and that's showing up in my emotions. I apologise. It's been a pleasure meeting you, Glint, but now that emergency services have this under control I'd best be moving on. If you ever need a psychologist, or just someone to talk to, look me up; that's if heroes need that kind of thing, of course. Good luck out there, and don't get yourself killed. We'd all be a hell of a lot worse off without you."


Unsure if a handshake would be appropriate or, to be frank, safe, Richard gave Glint a two-fingered salute before backing off and heading up the street. His head was full of information, to the point where it was starting to hurt; he needed to think it all over, to determine how he was going to help, and most importantly, not to think about why too hard. That always made things worse. Once again he picked his way through the rubble, walking to what would soon be home.

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Re: Eat the Rich

Post  Frederich Glint on Thu May 14, 2009 2:02 pm

Glint looked sad as Richard spoke, as if he found the things he were saying to be a shame. When the other man had left, Glint mumbled to himself, " 'People like you and me'? Knew it." He put his hands on his hips and took another look around at the destruction before promptly remembering how rudely he'd left Samuel LeBlanc's office. With all the urgency of movement he'd had arriving in the area, he left it, shooting through the sky, back toward his publicist's office, as a beam of light, leaving the lightbulbs to flicker in his wake.
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Re: Eat the Rich

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