Death, Crime, Rage of a Beast, Etc. [IC]

[trollthumper]

Bluebound Books

Saturday, July 19th, 2014

7:30 PM

Joe Macayle considered himself something of an amateur historian. But some times, that could be a broad consideration. There were areas he didn't know a whole lot about - the medieval era, the Civil War, the early American Revolution. But, at the same time, he knew there were areas that he could just tear into. World War II, early labor history, the superheroic record of Freedom City... and the town's punk scene.

Which was why he was spending tonight at a bookstore instead of a club. Marc Varren, veteran Freedom City journalist, was presenting a reading from his new book, Screaming Indecency: Punk Rock, Freedom City, and the Moore Era. Joe knew a bit about the era, learned from the veterans of the scene - Moore's efforts to push for order, decency, and ethics (defined entirely by him, of course) pushed hard, and of course, the "disorderly," "indecent," and "unethical" of the city pushed back even harder. It was a time that had given rise to blistering music, a punk scene with enough passion to set the city of fire... and more than a few violent dissidents that almost did, something the papers of the era had been happy to make hay of.

Then again, he hadn't lived it. Varren was one of the old guard punks, skin like shoe leather and tongue like fire. It'd be a hell of a thing to hear about the time from someone who'd been there on the streets.

[Electra]

Paige blew gently across the surface of her steaming-hot mochacino as she scanned the part of the bookstore set up for the reading. She didn't go to many book readings, but this one seemed reasonably well-attended for a Saturday night. She was interested to know what a journalist with twenty years in which to gain perspective would make of the bad old days in Freedom City. She and Richard hadn't been more than footnotes back then, but she'd read several books on the heroes and villains of Freedom City during the Moore years. This was a bit further from her oeuvre, but she'd known some punk rockers back then, too. She grinned a little as she remembered the mohawk on the stylist who'd done her hair and showed her makeup after she'd run away from the Psion compound. The lawless and unlawful kept close company back in those days. 

 

"Let's sit towards the back," she suggested to Richard, moving past rows of chairs. A few people noticed them, but dressed in casual clothes and a continent away from Hollywood, no one was quite certain enough to point them out. "I told Holly to text if the whole sleepover thing wasn't working out and we'd go pick her up." 

[Avenger Assembled]

"Sure, sure." Richard had hot chocolate rather than coffee, not wanting to deal with how jittery caffeine made him when he was restraining his powers. Still, he had a copy of the book in his lap which he flipped through occasionally whenever the crowd's attention was elsewhere. "Looks like a pretty good crowd. Nice to know not everyone's forgotten the old days." With the way his powers had affected them both, they didn't look like the streets had been theirs in the 80s - but of course those had been their glory days. He shot a look over at his wife as they sat down, pleasantly remembering the good old days with his best girl at his side and the world as their oyster. "She'll do fine. She's a long way from that thing with the waterbed." Stopping halfway through the book, he looked at a black and white picture of an underground club he and Paige hadn't seen in half a lifetime. "Oh man, remember this place?" -With the DJ with the big glasses, and you and me on the dance floor?- They had done a lot back in those days - especially in the darker corners of the booming clubs, where the wild sight and sound made it very easy to be completely invisible. 

[trollthumper]

Joe listened with rapt attention as Varren talked about the best parts of the bad old days. There was a hell of a lot to cover, from the rowdier moments of the early scene before Moore swept into office to when the city's government and police started pushing back against "malcontents." One of the major inciting incidents had been the Angry Jackals' 1985 show at the Channel Club; the Jackals, Hispanic pioneers of Freedom's hardcore scene, been extremely vocal about lack of police action in the death of migrant salon owner and community fixture Lupe Menendez. The cops had shown up to ring the club on "suspicion of inciting a riot"; it still wasn't clear who'd thrown the first punch. From there, in addition to the various sub-subcultures already existing in punk, Freedom's scene tended to split into two directions - one focused on civil disobedience, vocal protest, and calling out police brutality where witnessed, and one focused on bloody revolt.

"There's this image that's taken root," Varren said, "that anyone with studded leather and a mohawk is looking for a chance to knife old ladies and burn down a police station. Not as big these days, but back in the Eighties, it was everywhere. And there were people who fed on that both out of the scene and in it. It wasn't about changing the world; it was about wanting to tear it down and dance in the ashes, because the whole thing had rotted through to the core and anything else, no matter how ****ed up you made it, had to be better. You actually had organized punk gangs - yeah, organized punks, who'd have thought - like the Banshees, the Red Knives, and the Conney Street Brutes. Then you had the big name interests, like Slamdance. A lot of kids these days think he was just another symbol of the times, like if some sound generator dressed up Banjee style and called himself 'Ghetto Blaster.' But Rick Allen was a presence in the scene before he joined up with RIOT - bouncer, brawler, and drummer with the Bleeding Sores for all of a month before he put guitarist Jamie Draven in a body cast. By the time he was throwing down with FORCE Ops, you had guys in the scene who swore they'd always been good friends - and others who wished someone had stomped on him harder in the pit.

"There really wasn't much of an active presence for scene kids on the hero side of things. I mean, there weren't many heroes, period, but no one really had a desire to get their leather on and beat the crap out of muggers. It wasn't about swinging from rooftops or flying through the air; it was about keeping it on the streets, because that was where all the crap was starting to gather. And either you tried to clean it up, or you hurled some yourself. The scene's mellowed out a lot since then, mainly because there isn't this huge feeling that the boot of the state is going to come down on everyone's neck. Or maybe it's because everyone got a good look at what 'no future' really looked like."

Varren shut the book. "Any questions?"

A few hands went up amongst the crowd. Joe's was first among them.

"Yes, you with the Fred Perry and the braces. I hate to stereotype, but I'm guessing..."

Joe felt slightly embarrassed, but he flashed a smile. "Hey, I felt like I had to ask," he said. "You said the scene kept fragmenting a hell of a lot back then. I was wondering what kind of presence the skins had in Freedom back in the day."

"Well, to start, not much of one. Most of Freedom's hardcore scene veered more towards straight-up punks than skins; you had a few of the Agnostic Front crowd who blew in from New York and some veterans from across the pond, but in the early Eighties, Freedom was the city Oi! forgot. The scene didn't really start to develop until '85, for two reasons. One, you started getting Freedom-based Oi! and street punk acts like The First Advance and Broken Bastards. Two, the harder elements of the scene were started to radicalize in weird directions, and someone had thought to hand them a Skrewdriver album, meaning Freedom got neo-Nazis as its own. Even back then, it was still light compared to when everyone's favorite pillowcase-wearing bastard showed up on the scene, but it still raised tensions. When SHARP got started up in New York in '87, it wasn't long until a chapter opened up in Freedom, too."

Varren looked back out into the crowd. "Anyone else?"

[Avenger Assembled]

Before he'd really thought about it, Richard was on his feet, his hand raised. "Hello, I'm Richard." He processed through questions fast as the veteran journalist took to look at him directly. "I read your book. I thought the photomatching you did was interesting, especially with that forehead tattoo." He tapped his own bare forehead where Slamdance had worn his own initials in garish ink. "Did your research find the names of anyone else in RIOT? I thought nobody ever figured out who they were." Which had only fueled his own disgust, he remembered, his and Archer's on those few occasions they'd actually talked to each other about the terrorists that had replaced Freedom City's supervillains for those bloody years at the end of the 1980s. Maybe the people of Freedom City had deserved a crime uptick after what they'd done to their heroes (as he and Hologram had reminded them so often), but even they'd deserved better than a bunch of nameless thugs and terrorists. 

[trollthumper]

Varren smiled. "My research for the book was mainly based around Slamdance," he said. "I did some digging into the rest of RIOT, but the other members of the group were a lot better about cleaning up their tracks. Slamdance kinda reveled in the change. Whatever happened to him screwed with his features a little - back when he was still in the scene, people said he had a 'hawk that couldn't get through most doorways. Afterwards, it looked like he either got really strict about shaving or went bald naturally. But Allen had a tendency to go back to his old haunts and talk to old friends - or at least people who'd tolerate him - about how everything had changed. If anything, the main thing that kept him from getting ratted out was that most of the people who talked to trusted the police less than supervillains - which really wasn't that uncommon for street kids during the Moore Era."

"So whatever happened to the guy?" Cannonade asked.

"Slamdance's last major public appearance was in '89, during a riot in Southside over allegations of police brutality - real common refrain in those days. Every copy of him got shocked by Network and went down like a ton of bricks - but afterwards, neither cops nor heroes could find him. They think he came to in the chaos and slipped out. Whatever happened after that, no one really knows. The rest of RIOT eventually either went out in a blaze of glory or faded away into the night after one big public display. But Slamdance just seemed to fade out. Which is kinda the last thing you expected him to do."

[Avenger Assembled]

Richard took his seat again as the questions moved on to an older black woman, her hair now in a greying mohawk, who had a question to ask about Pure Hell's 1985 reunion at an underground night club in Greenbank. Geez, I guess she's not that old, he added with a start. She's probably as old as we are. It was a little intimidating to remember just how long ago those days had been; he and Paige, with their aging slowed by his temporal manipulation, looked like people in their late 30s. In Hollywood, where most of their coworkers knew how old they were, and among other supers, this could pass for really good plastic surgery. Here, surrounded by people with a personal interest in Freedom City's punk scene, they looked like kids - maybe the kids of some of the very people chronicled in the book. Some of this stuff was twenty-five years ago. Jesus. He looked over at Paige and added in a whisper, "You're still my girl, though." 

[trollthumper]

"Any other questions?" asked Varren as he looked out to the crowd. Joe raised a hand to ask about the break-up of Million Bullets when a voice cried out from the back.

"How's it feel, acting like you know everything?"

He turned around. Someone was seated at the back of the rows of chairs. His studded leather jacket looked like it had seen quite the tour of duty, but he had a baseball cap tilted down over his face. Joe's fists tightened reflexively; this was the look of someone trying to hide something.

Varren stared ahead at the guy at the back. "If you think you're the first person to call me a poseur, get in line. I was down in the trenches during the Moore Era --"

"You bussed in from the suburbs and we all ****ing knew it. Still, good thing to know you've got something other than cotton between those ears. You did a real job picking up on Allen, didn't you?"

It was then that Joe registered movement outside of the group. From the aisles emerged three others of the same build as the questioner, also covering their faces with hats and glasses. The ringing of the bell over the door indicated two new arrivals, who also shared the same build.

"Then again, you act like he was hiding. Sometimes, the only reason to hide... is if you're planning something big."

The man at the back stood up like a bolt, hurling off his ball cap. The man's head was shaved down to the scalp, with a simple SD tattoo on the side the only real adornment. Beneath the jacket he was wearing sleeveless segmented leather armor that looked like it had been stolen from a Mad Max set. And his face looked like it hadn't changed a day from the photos in Varren's book.

"RIOT!"

The sound of breaking glass and car alarms filled the air, as chaos erupted both inside and out of the bookstore.

[Avenger Assembled]

-Oh my God!- Richard's voice exclaimed across his psychic link to his wife as he jumped to his feet. Surprise warred with anger, unjustified though it was, as he took in the sight of a man he hadn't seen in twenty-five years. -Goddamit, why is he alive and everyone else is dead?- Time slowed to a crawl around him, the fracas between Slamdance's puppets and the rest of the crowd put on pause thanks to his mastery of time. He took in the scene and shook his head. -Look at him, screwing around with a bunch of hipsters and old people. I don't think he's even robbing the place! What an ass.- He stripped out of his clothes and into his Fast-Forward costume, picoseconds later helping Paige don her Hologram togs. They were old hands at this by now, and worked together like veterans. 

 

-All right, I remember what hitting this guy does, so I'm on evac patrol- Zipping around, Fast-Forward busied himself with evacuating the civilians, pulling them into his personal time bubble and running with them right out the door. As usual they were surprised to find the world put on pause all around them, but his quick reassurances and ready smile seemed to set them at ease. "Don't worry, folks, heroes are on the scene, we've got this! Don't worry, it's all totally copacetic, we've got this guy right where we want him. Better clear the area," he added as he closed the door behind the last of the bookstore patrons, all of whom had (from the perspective of anyone outside his speed) just appeared out of nowhere. "It's gonna be a bumpy night!" 

 

"Hey, Slamdance!" he added with a shout as he closed the door. "What, you've got a midlife crisis and you have to take it out on everybody else? Kids decide you were listening to too much Clash, or Wallbanger, or whatever you called that punk crap back in the day?" 

[trollthumper]

Aw, crap. Joe knew he should have seen this coming; one of the best ways to capture a villain's attention in this town was to wave a big flag saying, "You weren't so hot." Fortunately, he'd taken to carrying his stuff around nearly all the time - his costume shirt was under the Fred Perry, and his jacket and helmet were in the gym bag. He sought cover in the Travel section where, in some good news, there wasn't a single one of the Slamdance clones.

The other Slamdances were continuing their assault on the store; with the patrons whisked away by Fast-Forward, they were taking their wrath out on the merchandise. Outside, however, was another story; the other Slamdances were busy taking apart the street, swinging lead pipes, bricks, and whatever other urban debris they could pick up that would make a nice impact.

At the head of the store, the core Slamdance - if it "was" the core him - studied Fast-Forward, as if trying to place him. "God, it's always funny when they talk like they know what they're talking about," he said. "You're talking like the world's changed. It hasn't. Same crap, same rot --"

"And the same bags of **** who think they're big men."

Cannonade charged out of the back, driving for Slamdance with the force of a freight train, arm outstretched. Slamdance, with the grace of someone used to being shoved around by big bruisers, danced out of the way of Cannonade's grip, leaving the hero to pause rapidly before he slammed face first into the Sci-Fi section.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be? Trojan Man?"

"Heh. So much for 'nothing's changed.'"

[Electra]

Hologram didn't join in on the taunting between Cannonade, Fast-Forward and Slamdance; drawing attention to herself in a fight had never really been her style. Sometimes, though, a little attention-getting was necessary. At least the civilians were all gone, she thought with resignation as she looked at the passel of marauding duplicates. She lifted one hand in front of her, palm out, fingers spread, and watched as black energy began to trickle from her fingertips and flow to the ground like water. Black swirled into her eyes, making them shine like puddles of oil even as the tendrils of energy seeped quickly along the floor. They spread like a spiderweb, touching each of the clones, and finally homing in on one in particular, the real villain. 

 

Closing her fist around the leftover fragments of black energy, Hologram studied her target for a few seconds while he sparred with Cannonade. Entropy called to her, singing up her arms and through her head, seducing her with the call to greater power if only she'd just use it. She shook it off, but couldn't quite make her eyes back to their normal color. She used that frustration, that tendril of fear, and slammed it all into her mental attack. He wanted the fear and anger of the bad old days? Well, he could just choke on it. 

[trollthumper]

There was a flicker of confusion in Slamdance's eyes a second before the black tendril connected with his head. That quickly gave way to fear and pain. As the bolt lanced into the violent anarchist's brain, Hologram could feel the resounding impact travel out from the "central" Slamdance into all of his duplicates, a little portion of the main impact causing them to tremble and shake. But as it did, it also drew out some of the central brunt from the head of the group. Slamdance locked eyes with Hologram as blood ran from his nostrils.

"See?" he said, laughing. "This one knows how to party!" Cannonade, Fast Forward, and Hologram could suddenly feel movement behind them. "But you know the rules - you get in the pit, and..."

Cannonade felt the blow catch him right in the kidneys. It went through him like an earthquake through a tuning fork, shaking his bones and rattling his brain. His jaw dropped open, partially by choice - he feared if he kept it clutched, he'd lose some teeth. Hopefully I can make him hurt just as much...

[Avenger Assembled]

Fast-Forward rolled through the attack, vibrating air molecules slowing to practically gelatinous speed as he zipped his way through them without so much as mussing his carefully-coifed hair. He wasn't one to worry much about supersonic attacks with a top speed of Mach 40. But he knew the same couldn't be said for Hologram; or the building, or for that matter the new guy - who hadn't seemed phased by his wife's hidden powers, which meant maybe it was time to play his own hole card. "Hey..." -Crap, I have no idea who this is!- "Hey, Trojan, get behind me! It's time to put this washed-up reject on pause!" Reaching into the leather jacket he wore over his black and white jumpsuit, Fast-Forward took out something he hadn't carried in the 80s, a slim, leather-bound antique journal, and began riffing through the pages at super-speed. 

[trollthumper]

Cannonade tried to shake the impact out of his head; one of the downsides of wearing a solid steel helmet was that blows like this felt like one of those old cartoons where someone stuck a pot on someone else's head and took a hammer to it. HSomehow, the words of the guy behind him managed to cut through, and he swiftly regained his footing.

"Name's Cannonade," he said, deciding he could get miffed later. "And hey, you've got a tactic for this sucker, be my guest. Just let me draw his attention..."

He moved away from the other guy and took a place at the center of the room. All the chairs from the reading had at this point either been knocked over or turned into projectiles. "So, I gotta wonder," he said, "what's your big plan, huh? First you take down a bookstore, then the revolution?"

"This is just the reminder," said Slamdance, "the wake-up call. Everyone's been asleep for so long; this is to let 'em know it hasn't changed --"

"Oh, don't give me that crap! Like you made anything better! You really think you got Moore out of office by setting everything on fire? The world's still got its bastards, but we know how to fight them. We're not blowing it all up; we're fighting where we need to, when we need to. And you know something? We're doing a hell of a lot better at it than you are."

Slamdance grinned. "Man, I'm going to love it when I shove that helmet all the way up your --"

[Avenger Assembled]

"Man, you're-" As he spoke, Fast-Forward zipped around the room at super-speed, flipping through his magic book like a college student who hadn't studied for an open-book test. 

 

arcturusguardianofthebear 

 

"-dumb. Your music is just a bunch of-" As he stopped in front of every duplicate, he traced an arcane pattern in the air at super-speed, a glowing, incredibly complex curlicue of magical energy that he reproduced faster than any machine could have dreamed. 

 

giveusyourstormywrath 

 

"coke-headed punks angry because-" He kicked open a window as he went, the glass shattering to reveal a growing storm outside. 

 

arktosourosgiveusthylightningandthunder 

 

"-you were too young to get stoned at Woodstock!" He stopped between Hologram and Cannonade and went on, "I feel sorry for the kid you used to be, Rick. But you're a grown-ass man now even if you don't look it. And a man has to stand up for what he's done. Everybody down!" 

 

givemeTHESTORM! 

 

And with that, a bolt of lightning erupted from the sky and enveloped the entire bookstore, rocketing up into the sky in a tremendous explosion of blue-white energy, a deafening roar filling the air as bolts of lightning struck at every single version of Slamdance.

[trollthumper]

The fire of a distant star turned night into day for one hideous, blinding second, lancing out with pinpoint accuracy to hit the long-forgotten supervillain everywhere, all at once. Spears of celestial energy tore through his form, causing him to dance and convulse with hideous fury. The spears even struck outside, tearing at the rioting clones on the street. By the time everyone in the store could see again, there were a dozen copies of Slamdance on the ground, all passed out and slightly burned.

Varren emerged from under the passed-out bodies of one of the duplicates; judging by the bruises on his face, he'd gone a few rounds with his assailant. "Did you get him?" he said.

"Well, I'm sure we can go for 'really hope so,'" said Cannonade. "There really is no kill like overkill." He turned to Fast-Forward. "By the way, some of us listen to music by angry bastards and aren't complete wastes of flesh with mountains of misplaced issues. Just wanted to clear that up."

[Electra]

Paige, who had immediately thrown herself to the ground at Richard's warning, climbed to her feet and stepped between Fast-Forward and Cannonade. "Of course that's true," she told Cannonade, trying to be placating without being condescending. God, when had she gotten such a Mom voice, anyway? It was the only part of her body that acted its age. "We've listened to some angry bastard music ourselves," she pointed out, giving Fast-Forward a narrow-eyed look that suggested he agree.

 

"It's just taunting, throw your enemy off-balance by targeting something you know is important to him. We haven't gone up against Slamdance since..." She frowned thoughtfully. "I don't even know how long it's been. Decades. But he hasn't changed all that much. Which is a little odd, come to think of it." Paige dusted her hand off on her pants, then offered it to Cannonade. "I'm Hologram, by the way, and this is my husband, Fast-Forward. It's a pleasure to work with you." 

[Avenger Assembled]

"Charmed," agreed Fast-Forward, giving Cannonade's hand a quick shake. Geez! Grip on that kid. "He's learned a few new tricks in twenty-five years, but so have we." Richard knelt down by one of the stunned duplicates and looked up at the others. "Can you get anything from him, honey? He never had what you'd call a super-brain," he added for Cannonade's benefit. "He only ever kept Hologram out when he was wasted, or when these guys were all banging their heads together and there was no one door into that thick skull." He shook his head and added apologetically, "Sorry, I just really hated this guy and his crew back in the day. Hologram and I did our share of bad, but we weren't so damned gleeful about it." 

[trollthumper]

Cannonade shook his head. "Hey, I understand," he said, looking over the splayed-out body - well, bodies - of Slamdance, which hadn't stirred one bit since Fast-Forward's delay of celestial might. "I heard a whole lot about this guy from the old guard," he said. "He was --" "Before my time" crossed his mind, but he decided that was probably the wrong thing to say. "-- a real asshole, from what they say. Didn't care who he hurt, what crap he stirred up... everything was a blow against the bastards in charge, no matter who else got hit in the process." He got down on his knees to check out the closest copy of Slamdance. "Hell, he doesn't even look like he's changed all that much. Guess he really is just the same old asshole."

[Electra]

Paige closed her eyes for a moment, sifting through the mind of the nearest Slamdance. "There's at least two copies still in the city limits," she reported without opening her eyes, "one is too far away for me to get an accurate bead, but the other is just a few blocks away." She opened her eyes, grinned at her husband. "I bet we could track him down and ask him where he's going," she suggested, wrapping a practiced arm around Richard's waist. "You want to hitch a ride?" she asked Cannonade. "It's much faster his way." 

[trollthumper]

Having seen how fast Fast Forward had moved when evacuating the guests earlier, Cannonade did not doubt that statement. If he could whip up a speed bubble like he had for the others, odds are they'd all be traveling at ballistic speed. "What the hell,' he said, stepping in close to the two. "As long as it gets us there fast enough to ask the really important stuff."

A few seconds later, he was regretting the offer. Watching the city fly by like long streaks of light was not a comforting experience. He had easily outpaced most Hummers in traffic, but this was speed on a level he was utterly unused to. Fortunately - he kept telling himself, desperately - the guy driving them knew what was he doing. And even more fortunately, the trip really did last only a few seconds.

Back in the distance, the wreckage of the street could be seen, with stray curls of smoke still wafting up from trash cans that had been set on fire. Down here, most of the civilians had turned their gaze up the street, learning well from their time in Freedom to get close enough to observe the fight but not too close to get hit by flying debris. One figure, however, was turned away from the crowd, the collar turned up on his beaten leather jacket, a blank baseball cap obscuring his head. The psychic signature Hologram had picked up on was tracing over to him... only...

The man looked up for half a second, as if trying to scan the crowd. In that instant, Fast Forward and Hologram saw the face of Slamdance, all right - but not the one they'd seen minutes before. There wasn't any hair under the cap, and they could see the traces of faded ink... but the cheeks were ringed with lines of age and stubble turning gray. There were bags under his eyes, and his hands looked rough and calloused from both wind and time.

[Avenger Assembled]

Fast-Forward hesitated for a moment, a subjective eternity, as he studied the time-worn face of Slamdance. Hey, I don't think that's makeup. He zipped around Slamdance in the time it took Hologram and Cannonade to perform their own analysis of the man, then stopped just out of arm's reach. "Hey, Rick." He produced sunglasses, then peered over his sunglasses at the other man. Geez, what the hell happened to him? That was a real guy back there, you were in his head...is this some kind of shapeshifter mindgame or something? "We gonna do this dance again, or are you going to talk first? Because we've got all the time in the world - but it looks like your time is running out." 

[trollthumper]

Allen did a double take, as if trying to place the face before him. "Jesus Christ," he said. "I see Hollywood's been good to you. I'd ask how you've been, but... well, we weren't exactly good friends, were we?"

"You should've heard him talking to you," said Cannonade. "Well, the other you."

The old punk looked over to Cannonade. "And now we've got The Amazing Skinhead," he said. "Man, I've been out of this town way, way too long." He put his fingers to his templed and massaged, as if trying to stay awake for another few hours. "I bet you're wondering why I'm here and what sort of horrible ****ery I'm trying to pull. Well, first of all, let me say this - it's not me. Well, that's crap. It is me, but it's not the me that is me now, and..." He looked around. "You mind if we get off the street, maybe grab coffee? Chasing dozens of you over town takes a lot out of a guy..."

[Electra]

"The coffeshop at the bookstore is closed for business at the moment, thanks to not-you," Paige replied dryly, "but there's a Starbase a few blocks from here. There's at least one more of you out and about right now, but he's far away, almost at the edge of my search radius. He shouldn't bother us for awhile." She led the way down the block and around the corner, into the warm coffee-scented atmosphere of the cafe. Stepping up to the counter, she ordered an herbal tea blend that wouldn't have her up and jittery all night, then turned to Rick. "Our treat, so long as you tell us what the hell is going on." 

[trollthumper]

"Starbase?" The aged Rick stroked his chin. "Eh, not exactly my first choice, but... this isn't exactly a night to be picky." He scrounged for his wallet, wordlessly picking up his own black coffee. Cannonade, likewise feeling he was going to need something in order to deal with all of this, picked up a coffee of his own.

"So," he asked, "what are you doing here? Or, more importantly, what's the other you doing here?"

"Relic of my youth," he said, "literally." He looked to Fast Forward and Hologram. "You know, I never really thought back in the day. And before you say anything witty, I mean... I thought a lot about the cause, and how to fight it, and how to make people pay. I never thought about how I'd been made able to do all that. I just had a lot of me around me, more mes would show up if you pushed me hard enough... I was a one-man riot. That was all that mattered. Me, and the rest of RIOT, trying to tear down the system and make the pigs pay."

And how'd that go for you? Cannonade bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood; poking an aging supervillain while he was baring his soul would probably go badly. Slamdance shook his head. "Anyway, somewhere towards the end of the decade, I started to... mellow a bit. I was still angry, but... I started to wonder if I was doing the right thing. And then I started to realize something, one night, when I made more of myself. I was aging. They weren't. And I started to wonder just how much me - the older me - was guiding my actions.

"I decided I didn't want to find out. After that riot, I hopped a bus out of Freedom. Settled in Oregon, tried to live... as normal as life as I could without breaking my ideals. But then... you start to get older, and you wonder what the **** you've become. A few years back, I started... popping off one of me. The same angry asshole I was back when it all started. Trying to remember who I was, pushing that bit away, and getting castigated for who I'd become, all at once. Usually, that me would just be out for an hour or two before I drew him back in.

"Then, a week ago... my copy managed to overpower me and run. At first, I thought it'd be easy tracking him down... I always had that connection before. But then, about two days in somewhere around Denver, it started to fade. I always thought I had the power in me - that it was innate. But I guess, after a while, it can... shift between us. I never had one of me out and about for more than two days, so... I never really knew. I didn't have to much to go on, but - I figured if I were still the same angry asshole, I'd come back to Freedom." He lets out a bitter laugh. "Guess I was right..."