Sunday, February 9, 2014

In Which there is Fighting

I never got to make my speech. I got there an hour early, and was given a very secure pat-down to make sure I wasn't carrying a gun (never mind that it was public knowledge that I had the strength to lift up the Italian ambassador and throw him in to orbit, and was working on ground-based lasers that could turn his orbiting carcass into a crispy exploding fireball. Apparently the UN officials were immune to all that so long as I didn't have a gun).
I was about to get onto the podium, when Neurotron stopped me. You might want to see this.
He hacked me into a news channel, and I saw a black armored figure robbing a bank, his cloak billowing out behind him. Either a showoff, a threat, or both.

Let me get something straight. There are one-thousand-two-hundred-and-twenty-one supervillains in the world. I'd estimate that, say, one-thousand-two-hundred-and-twelve of them are merely common criminals with delusions of grandeur. This new guy clearly wasn't.
I turned my attention to the video "Leave this place," the new villain said, in a voice that was simultaneously booming and chilling. "Leave now."
Judging that a crowd of unfortunate pedestrians was leaving the place fast enough, he gestured out them. A black tendril shot from his suit and impaled one of them, Terminator 2 style. Who was this guy?
"I am Mephistopheles!" That answered that question.
I noticed something. Mephistopheles has been standing around shouting his name and harassing passersby long enough for a new organization to get on the scene. How long does it take to rob a bank? (Rhetorical question, I know the answer from personal experience).
The there were two obvious conclusions, then. One was that he was a grand-standing idiot. The other was that he wanted someone to try to stop him. As I looked on in fascination (the U.N. people were all watching as well. Can't they focus on the supervillain who's actually in the building) a superhero came to do just that.
It wouldn't be fair to say that the Titanium Warrior was a friend of mine. Sure we'd worked together once or twice (one time Dr. Carnage stole both of our armors), but we weren't exactly exchanging Christmas cards. For one thing, evil people hate Christmas. For another, I'd tried to kill him on multiple occasions (nothing personal, just came up in the line of duty).
Anyways, the Titanium warrior swooped in to stop this Mephistopheles character. "Helpful hint: If you want to rob a bank, try doing it in a city without a superhero." He paused for a second. "Also, just don't do it at all."
Mephistopheles laughed in response. "And you plan to try and stop me?" Man, that guy's voice was creepy. I know murderers who would kill for a voice like that.
Instead of coming up with a witty retort, TW instead elected to shoot Mephistopheles in the gut. As expected the bullet did nothing.
Mephistopheles shot out tendrils of darkness, and threw the Warrior twenty or thirty meters. The armored hero crashed into a truck, which exploded, Hollywood action movie style. That's got to hurt.
When superheroes first engage a new opponent, they have no idea what sort of questions to use. Could you imagine if Vector used the full strength of his telekinesis on some guy, and accidentally killed him. If Resonance went all out with her sonic strikes only to find out her opponent was no more durable than the common man? There's always the question of when to break out the big guns. "Alright, punk. Time to break out the big guns."
In case you were wondering, the Titanium Warrior has some big guns. Take it from someone who has been fired on by the biggest guns Titanium Warrior has. Mephistopheles took a hit from an RPG like a schoolyard bully being smacked by a nerd. Which, in a sense, he was.
He formed his tendrils into a large fist, and grabbed his heroic opponent. The hero pulled out a buzz-saw (I've always been impressed by the sheer number of machines that man carries), and tried to cut through the over sized fist. The saw jammed, and Mephistopheles began to squeeze.
Lasers proved similarly ineffectual. As Mephistopheles crushed the air out of the armored hero's lungs, the Titanium Warrior looked for some way to turn the tide. He saw an abandoned crane and open fire. The crane began to fall, threatening to crush one of the two combatants.
At this point, the cameraman decided he would rather lose his job and live than stick around and die, and he turned and ran.
"Shit." Neurotron, patch me through some sort of security camera, or, better yet, a spy satellite. I'm sure some agency has eyes on this.
Neurotron hacked me into the NSA's array just in time for me to get a birds eye view of the crane crashing to the ground. The Titanium Warrior was unscathed, and Mephistopheles was trapped under a bunch of twisted metal. He began to claw his way out.
There wasn't an audio, but I'm sure he was saying something creepy as he threw a twenty-foot long section of crane at TW.
The hero dodged, and spikes shot from his armor into the ground, as he braced himself to go on the offensive. He opened fire with like seventy machine guns. Seventy-four, Neurotron corrected. Nobody likes a smart-ass.
Mephistopheles didn't seem to be harmed by the torrent of bullets. That being said, he still had to obey the fundamental laws of momentum. He was pushed backwards by the cascade of bullets. TW's supply of ammunition ran out, but he had already created a large distance between himself and his enemy. Judging that the fight was likely to go downhill from here, he made like Sir Robin and bravely ran away.
Mephistopheles struck what was clearly intended to be a dramatic pose, presumably let loose some sort of cackle. And then he disappeared. What!? Did he have some sort of teleportation device? Was he some sort of hologram? Was it just a run-of-the-mill cloaking device?
Neurotron interrupted my speculation, bringing me back to reality. Hey hotshot, wanna give your big speech.
I walked to the podium. Most of the dignitaries were still discussing the arrival of this Mephistopheles onto the world scene. They clearly weren't in the mood for speeches. "Long story short," I said, hacking my way into their sound system, "don't invade Estveria, we aren't planning anything. Good day."
I flew upwards, leaving a Phoenix-shaped hole in the ceiling (actually, it was more circular), and spent the flight home pondering what sort of new menace had been let loose upon the world.

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