Post by Champ on Feb 11, 2010 2:18:24 GMT -4
Well, well, well, finally this little story can get started properly. Sorry it took so long guys, planning was a nightmare. I'll probably go over this chapter again and fix up the ending, but for now it's good to just have something to go from. I hope you enjoy it!
Champ Mars:PRETENDER
Prologue
The night was perfect. Dark and bitter cold, it was a night that reflected the city itself. There had once been light in this place, but it had long since passed. Now there was only the pressing darkness, seeming to envelope the city, as if trying to press out the last sparks of it's dying light. It was in this night that the robbers found themselves huddled outside of the Kirwan bank in downtown Tremorton, their breath floating up in puffs of fog. There were four of them, each standing awkwardly on the steps, making last minute checks of their supplies. Robbery was like a play, their leader would say, rehearsing it is fine, but it doesn't matter if you flub your lines when the performance night finally comes.
"Jim," The tallest one barked, "You got the bags?"
Jim, who was only discernible from the others by the brown hair that poked through the eye-holes in his mask seemed surprised.
"Er, uh, yes," He stuttered.
It was Jim's first bank robbery, and his heart was beating faster than he thought it could.
"Good," The tallest one said, "How about you, Taylor, Sam, you've got the guns?"
"Yeah Rich, we got 'em," Sam whined, trying desperately to draw his coat collar up, his blue eyes fixed on a heat vent inside.
"You didn't get none of that cheap stuff?" The tallest, Rich, asked, "We don't need no bullets for this, so don't tell me ya' cheaped out and got something that don't shoot plasma."
Taylor rolled his eyes. Rich always thought that they would buy cheap weapons. Why would they? It's worth paying a small fortune when you can earn triple the gun's worth.
"We got the right guns," He said, "We wouldn't need to worry if you just let us keep 'em after each heist."
Rich shook his head.
"Market's competitive," He said, "If I sell off our evidence I can make a buck an' keep the cops off our trail. It's just good business."
He chuckled at this, but Taylor just rolled his eyes again.
"Alright," The shortest one, Sam said, "Let's just get this over with, I'm sick of talkin' when we should be Actin'."
To Sam it was always acting. He wasn't stealing, he was just playing his part in a finely rehearsed show. That show just happened to make a killing in every city it played in. And Tremorton was better for business than anywhere else.
The others nodded, and Rich stepped forward, a small square device in his hand. He stepped forward to the glass double doors and pressed it to the key. A spray of silver liquid poured from the end of the device, covering the inside of the lock. For a moment they stood, staring stupidly at it, and then it rapidly solidified, fitting the contours of the lock. He turned the device, and with a smooth motion the glass door slid forward. He smiled, motioning for the others to enter, before pressing a second button on the device. On the wall a small red light that indicated that the security system was working flickered once...twice,and then snuffed out like a candle blown out by the gentle autumn breeze.
The group sped into the room beyond, laughing quietly to themselves as they raced through the elaborate foyer.
"Alright boys," Rich said, "Twenty minutes, that's all the time we should need."
As he spoke he motioned for the group to circle up. They did, and each received a small pulse rifle, nothing powerful but enough to make any nosy bank guards or Skyway Patrol officers think twice.
Once every robber had a rifle Rich spoke again, barking orders.
"Jim," He said.
"Er, yes," Jim said, seeming surprised again.
"You go to the first vault, it should be 'round that way," Rich said, motioning toward a hallway that led farther back into the bank.
Jim nodded, leaving the others.
"Sam, Taylor," Rich barked as he saw the other robber exit, "You're on guard duty."
"Ain't we always," Sam muttered.
Rich hit him on the shoulder.
"Shut up," He said, "I'll go to the East vault."
He turned to leave as the others walked back to the foyer, but before each reached an exit Rich called them one more time.
"Sam, Taylor," He called.
They turned, annoyed.
"If something goes wrong, the plan's the same as always," He said, "And if that newbie can't get back in time, than he's on his own."
"Right boss," Taylor said.
And then they were separate, four men trying to work as quickly as possible to rob the second largest bank in Tremorton. It was their fourth heist in as many weeks. So far, they hadn't even had to try. Without Zero around the business of crime was safe again. And business was booming.
In the west hall Jim found that an unfortunate side-effect of the security system being disabled was that the same was true for the heat. The hallway felt like an icebox, and the dim light of the few fluorescents left on made the place seem extremely uninviting. He walked slowly down the hall, each moment hoping that the heat and lights would kick on, and that soon he would find himself safe in the car, laughing at this foolish thing he had done. These thoughts provided a comforting distraction, and Jim found himself smiling at the thought. This brief flash of hope was shattered by a startling realization.
He was not alone.
Ahead of him in the hall a figure was waiting. It stood perfectly still, obscured in the light. Something about it told Jim that he should leave.
"Hello?" He called weakly, drawing the pulse rifle from his bag.
The figure turned, revealing it's hulking mass to him, it's blue cape flapping slightly in the dim artificial light. The figure drew memories of a long lost hero. He had once brought Jim hope. Now the figure brought nothing but fear.
"I'm warning you," Jim murmured, drawing the gun up, "I've got a gun and I'm not afraid..."
The figure did not say anything. It simply made the slightest sign of movement. A moment later Jim felt the cold sting of a metal blow to the head, before collapsing to the carpet below.
In the foyer Taylor swayed uncomfortably, hoping that the motion would help warm him, as well as give him something to occupy his time.
"Guard duty," He mumbled, "Guard duty AGAIN."
Sam sighed.
"Get used to it, " He said, "We're the muscle, you know Rich doesn't trust us to do anything else."
Taylor sneered at the statement.
"Yeah, well I don't trust Rich that much," He said, "Seems to me he's been getting some pretty generous cuts lately."
Sam nodded.
"Yeah, "He said, "Heard he's in debt to some of them Sigma punks, probably needs the extra cash for that."
"Not my problem," Taylor said, "Idiot should know not to make deals with them."
Sam sighed, "Hey man, I didn't say it was right, just saying why things are they way they are."
Taylor turned to continue the conversation, but something caught his eye. Someone was standing in the doorway.
"Alright," He said, "Very funny, Rich."
The figure did not respond, but upon a second look it was clear that it was not Rich. The figure was a hulking thing, and something in it's back fluttered in the breeze as it watched. Taylor raised his gun, taking a step forward. Sam followed suit.
"I dunno who you are," Taylor said, "But you just ended up in the wrong place at the wrong..."
Before he could finish the figure raced forward. He didn't run so much as he glided over the tile floor. Taylor fired wildly, but none of his shots even came close. In a moment the figure was in front of him, staring down into his eyes. He got a quick look at his opponent, a robot in blue armor, before he was forced back, smashing through the glass double doors before colliding with the asphalt of the street beyond. He did not get up.
Sam turned, terrified at the sight that met him.
"It can't be!" Sam shouted, firing.
The figure seemed unfazed.
"You're dead," He shouted.
The figure stepped closer.
"You're DEAD!" Sam shouted, firing again.
The figure lifted him by the arm that gripped the gun, launching him into the opposite wall. He collided hard enough to crack the stone the wall was made of. He fell to the floor, joining his partner in unconsciousness.
The commotion had not gone unnoticed by Rich. But he trusted his partners. And even if they failed, he had his way out. Sure enough, moments later the chaos had stopped. All was quiet. All was right. He went back to his business, setting charges to break open the vault. As the last charge was set he stood, taking a step back to admire his work. It was then that he realized that someone was watching him.
"Hey, you better not be ignoring my.." He started, but as he turned he was met by the hulking hero. The figure grabbed his neck in it's huge hand, lifting him up effortlessly and slamming his back into the vault. He stared down at the figure, scrutinizing each detail in his panic. The blue armor, the powerful face, the messy artificial hair. He looked different from before but there was no mistaking it. He was staring into the face of XJ-0.
"Back from the dead?" He said, a weak smile on his face, "I didn't think I'd ever see..."
The figure did not let him finish the sentence. Instead it threw him to the ground. Rich watched it walk off, it's cape waving behind it. Then all the world went black.
***
The police chief could do nothing but stare at the carnage. The Kirwan bank did not look good, but the men who had spent this evening attempting to rob it looked even worse. Each one was covered in bruises, and at least two had suffered concussions from the battle. He sighed to himself. These heroes certainly got the job done, but it would be nice if they could do it with a little less property damage.
"Alright," He said to a lieutenant as he climbed out of the car, "Who was it this time, Jakob? Jenny? That XIII kid maybe?"
The lieutenant smiled.
"You haven't noticed yet?" He asked, laughing a little.
"Eh?" the Chief said, confused.
The lieutenant smiled.
"The answer's right in front of you," He said, "Or, should I say, below you."
The Chief looked. Carved in the pavement from where he stood to the other side of the street was a massive letter Z inside of a circle.
"Oh," He said, laughing, "That one."
He smiled to himself.
"Nice work, Zero," He said, "Nice work."
The police chief continued to passively observe the scene, making notes of the little things that the station would ask questions about. Still, as he did he paid no mind to his surroundings. If he did he may have noticed that he was being watched.
In the shattered remains of what had once been a skyscraper a young man looked on, his blonde hair a spiked mess, the ends of his black bandanna waving in the wind.
"Third time in a month," He muttered to himself, "I dunno' who this guy is, but he needs to stop."
From the rooftop above Champ Mars watched. He was disturbed by what he saw. The fact that someone had stolen the image of Tremorton's greatest hero bothered him. The fact that someone had stolen the image his friend made it worse. Zero had given so much to this city, he had earned the right to have his legacy left untouched. Champ didn't know who this imitator was, but he feared they would ruin Zero's image.
In the days to come he would learn that fear was well founded. This city needed the memory of Zero to act as it's last glint of light. But in the night there was someone waiting. A hateful figure who only had one desire.
To make that last little light go out.
Champ Mars:PRETENDER
Prologue
The night was perfect. Dark and bitter cold, it was a night that reflected the city itself. There had once been light in this place, but it had long since passed. Now there was only the pressing darkness, seeming to envelope the city, as if trying to press out the last sparks of it's dying light. It was in this night that the robbers found themselves huddled outside of the Kirwan bank in downtown Tremorton, their breath floating up in puffs of fog. There were four of them, each standing awkwardly on the steps, making last minute checks of their supplies. Robbery was like a play, their leader would say, rehearsing it is fine, but it doesn't matter if you flub your lines when the performance night finally comes.
"Jim," The tallest one barked, "You got the bags?"
Jim, who was only discernible from the others by the brown hair that poked through the eye-holes in his mask seemed surprised.
"Er, uh, yes," He stuttered.
It was Jim's first bank robbery, and his heart was beating faster than he thought it could.
"Good," The tallest one said, "How about you, Taylor, Sam, you've got the guns?"
"Yeah Rich, we got 'em," Sam whined, trying desperately to draw his coat collar up, his blue eyes fixed on a heat vent inside.
"You didn't get none of that cheap stuff?" The tallest, Rich, asked, "We don't need no bullets for this, so don't tell me ya' cheaped out and got something that don't shoot plasma."
Taylor rolled his eyes. Rich always thought that they would buy cheap weapons. Why would they? It's worth paying a small fortune when you can earn triple the gun's worth.
"We got the right guns," He said, "We wouldn't need to worry if you just let us keep 'em after each heist."
Rich shook his head.
"Market's competitive," He said, "If I sell off our evidence I can make a buck an' keep the cops off our trail. It's just good business."
He chuckled at this, but Taylor just rolled his eyes again.
"Alright," The shortest one, Sam said, "Let's just get this over with, I'm sick of talkin' when we should be Actin'."
To Sam it was always acting. He wasn't stealing, he was just playing his part in a finely rehearsed show. That show just happened to make a killing in every city it played in. And Tremorton was better for business than anywhere else.
The others nodded, and Rich stepped forward, a small square device in his hand. He stepped forward to the glass double doors and pressed it to the key. A spray of silver liquid poured from the end of the device, covering the inside of the lock. For a moment they stood, staring stupidly at it, and then it rapidly solidified, fitting the contours of the lock. He turned the device, and with a smooth motion the glass door slid forward. He smiled, motioning for the others to enter, before pressing a second button on the device. On the wall a small red light that indicated that the security system was working flickered once...twice,and then snuffed out like a candle blown out by the gentle autumn breeze.
The group sped into the room beyond, laughing quietly to themselves as they raced through the elaborate foyer.
"Alright boys," Rich said, "Twenty minutes, that's all the time we should need."
As he spoke he motioned for the group to circle up. They did, and each received a small pulse rifle, nothing powerful but enough to make any nosy bank guards or Skyway Patrol officers think twice.
Once every robber had a rifle Rich spoke again, barking orders.
"Jim," He said.
"Er, yes," Jim said, seeming surprised again.
"You go to the first vault, it should be 'round that way," Rich said, motioning toward a hallway that led farther back into the bank.
Jim nodded, leaving the others.
"Sam, Taylor," Rich barked as he saw the other robber exit, "You're on guard duty."
"Ain't we always," Sam muttered.
Rich hit him on the shoulder.
"Shut up," He said, "I'll go to the East vault."
He turned to leave as the others walked back to the foyer, but before each reached an exit Rich called them one more time.
"Sam, Taylor," He called.
They turned, annoyed.
"If something goes wrong, the plan's the same as always," He said, "And if that newbie can't get back in time, than he's on his own."
"Right boss," Taylor said.
And then they were separate, four men trying to work as quickly as possible to rob the second largest bank in Tremorton. It was their fourth heist in as many weeks. So far, they hadn't even had to try. Without Zero around the business of crime was safe again. And business was booming.
In the west hall Jim found that an unfortunate side-effect of the security system being disabled was that the same was true for the heat. The hallway felt like an icebox, and the dim light of the few fluorescents left on made the place seem extremely uninviting. He walked slowly down the hall, each moment hoping that the heat and lights would kick on, and that soon he would find himself safe in the car, laughing at this foolish thing he had done. These thoughts provided a comforting distraction, and Jim found himself smiling at the thought. This brief flash of hope was shattered by a startling realization.
He was not alone.
Ahead of him in the hall a figure was waiting. It stood perfectly still, obscured in the light. Something about it told Jim that he should leave.
"Hello?" He called weakly, drawing the pulse rifle from his bag.
The figure turned, revealing it's hulking mass to him, it's blue cape flapping slightly in the dim artificial light. The figure drew memories of a long lost hero. He had once brought Jim hope. Now the figure brought nothing but fear.
"I'm warning you," Jim murmured, drawing the gun up, "I've got a gun and I'm not afraid..."
The figure did not say anything. It simply made the slightest sign of movement. A moment later Jim felt the cold sting of a metal blow to the head, before collapsing to the carpet below.
In the foyer Taylor swayed uncomfortably, hoping that the motion would help warm him, as well as give him something to occupy his time.
"Guard duty," He mumbled, "Guard duty AGAIN."
Sam sighed.
"Get used to it, " He said, "We're the muscle, you know Rich doesn't trust us to do anything else."
Taylor sneered at the statement.
"Yeah, well I don't trust Rich that much," He said, "Seems to me he's been getting some pretty generous cuts lately."
Sam nodded.
"Yeah, "He said, "Heard he's in debt to some of them Sigma punks, probably needs the extra cash for that."
"Not my problem," Taylor said, "Idiot should know not to make deals with them."
Sam sighed, "Hey man, I didn't say it was right, just saying why things are they way they are."
Taylor turned to continue the conversation, but something caught his eye. Someone was standing in the doorway.
"Alright," He said, "Very funny, Rich."
The figure did not respond, but upon a second look it was clear that it was not Rich. The figure was a hulking thing, and something in it's back fluttered in the breeze as it watched. Taylor raised his gun, taking a step forward. Sam followed suit.
"I dunno who you are," Taylor said, "But you just ended up in the wrong place at the wrong..."
Before he could finish the figure raced forward. He didn't run so much as he glided over the tile floor. Taylor fired wildly, but none of his shots even came close. In a moment the figure was in front of him, staring down into his eyes. He got a quick look at his opponent, a robot in blue armor, before he was forced back, smashing through the glass double doors before colliding with the asphalt of the street beyond. He did not get up.
Sam turned, terrified at the sight that met him.
"It can't be!" Sam shouted, firing.
The figure seemed unfazed.
"You're dead," He shouted.
The figure stepped closer.
"You're DEAD!" Sam shouted, firing again.
The figure lifted him by the arm that gripped the gun, launching him into the opposite wall. He collided hard enough to crack the stone the wall was made of. He fell to the floor, joining his partner in unconsciousness.
The commotion had not gone unnoticed by Rich. But he trusted his partners. And even if they failed, he had his way out. Sure enough, moments later the chaos had stopped. All was quiet. All was right. He went back to his business, setting charges to break open the vault. As the last charge was set he stood, taking a step back to admire his work. It was then that he realized that someone was watching him.
"Hey, you better not be ignoring my.." He started, but as he turned he was met by the hulking hero. The figure grabbed his neck in it's huge hand, lifting him up effortlessly and slamming his back into the vault. He stared down at the figure, scrutinizing each detail in his panic. The blue armor, the powerful face, the messy artificial hair. He looked different from before but there was no mistaking it. He was staring into the face of XJ-0.
"Back from the dead?" He said, a weak smile on his face, "I didn't think I'd ever see..."
The figure did not let him finish the sentence. Instead it threw him to the ground. Rich watched it walk off, it's cape waving behind it. Then all the world went black.
***
The police chief could do nothing but stare at the carnage. The Kirwan bank did not look good, but the men who had spent this evening attempting to rob it looked even worse. Each one was covered in bruises, and at least two had suffered concussions from the battle. He sighed to himself. These heroes certainly got the job done, but it would be nice if they could do it with a little less property damage.
"Alright," He said to a lieutenant as he climbed out of the car, "Who was it this time, Jakob? Jenny? That XIII kid maybe?"
The lieutenant smiled.
"You haven't noticed yet?" He asked, laughing a little.
"Eh?" the Chief said, confused.
The lieutenant smiled.
"The answer's right in front of you," He said, "Or, should I say, below you."
The Chief looked. Carved in the pavement from where he stood to the other side of the street was a massive letter Z inside of a circle.
"Oh," He said, laughing, "That one."
He smiled to himself.
"Nice work, Zero," He said, "Nice work."
The police chief continued to passively observe the scene, making notes of the little things that the station would ask questions about. Still, as he did he paid no mind to his surroundings. If he did he may have noticed that he was being watched.
In the shattered remains of what had once been a skyscraper a young man looked on, his blonde hair a spiked mess, the ends of his black bandanna waving in the wind.
"Third time in a month," He muttered to himself, "I dunno' who this guy is, but he needs to stop."
From the rooftop above Champ Mars watched. He was disturbed by what he saw. The fact that someone had stolen the image of Tremorton's greatest hero bothered him. The fact that someone had stolen the image his friend made it worse. Zero had given so much to this city, he had earned the right to have his legacy left untouched. Champ didn't know who this imitator was, but he feared they would ruin Zero's image.
In the days to come he would learn that fear was well founded. This city needed the memory of Zero to act as it's last glint of light. But in the night there was someone waiting. A hateful figure who only had one desire.
To make that last little light go out.