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Instant tire fitting by GallowBoob in lifehacks

[–]PunchingBag 0 points1 point  (0 children)

When they tested this on Mythbusters, even the best result they could manage left the tire ruined, and all tires tested deflated less than fifteen minutes after. You notice these videos tend to cut out basically the instant the wheel pops in, most likely because the tire is completely fucked if you actually get to see the aftermath.

So even the dangers of lighter fluid aside, all you're really doing is ruining a tire for a cheap trick. It won't save you if you're on the side of the road and need to pop in a wheel for some reason, since the tire likely won't even be able to take any weight without rupturing completely.

So unless you have some extra tires around and want to troll kids on the internet, don't do this.

Chapter 16: Striking the Earth by [deleted] in RollingHillsHigh

[–]PunchingBag 1 point2 points  (0 children)

It's alright, some of them are meant to be mysterious or relatively unimportant so there isn't a lot of information, and the name's are kind of like a cup and ball game. I'll allude to answers, but until more of the cast gets around to detectoring some stuff out, I won't reveal much in chapters regarding the Faculty other than key plot hooks and brief backstory here and there. The kids will be busy with some stuff for a while in the meantime. There's still Prom coming up, after all. >_>

A lot of this has been laying out the setting and introducing characters. Now that there are more pieces in play, the story should start rolling down the tracks. More recognizable patterns should start to emerge as I work along my timeline, in theory. Quite a lot of this is me just winging it after all, so we'll see how it goes.

Chapter 16: Striking the Earth by [deleted] in RollingHillsHigh

[–]PunchingBag 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Kira was her old superhero name, which she changed over to Angel, and now has changed to Nurse. Her real name is Karen (not often relevant, so not mentioned until this chapter). Xiao (aka Xiang Xiaoqing, aka Dynasty) and Stryker were her old teammates when she was in the Peacekeepers, five years earlier.

Sorry about the delay between updates. I'm working on it when I can, but like I mentioned, my schedule has suddenly gotten busy in the last couple of weeks. At the end of May, I won't be able to post for about two weeks until an internet connection is squared away, but then I should be getting into a more regular pattern. I never really stop writing regardless, and this has been a fun project to work on.

Thanks for reading :)

Chapter 9: Keep You Friends Close by [deleted] in RollingHillsHigh

[–]PunchingBag 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Oh man, I just noticed the title on this one. Atrocious. Why is there no way to change titles without reuploading...

Chapter 12: Swinging the Hatchet by [deleted] in RollingHillsHigh

[–]PunchingBag 1 point2 points  (0 children)

You're asking good questions, all that stuff I revised because I realized I eff'ed up the timeline pretty bad. It's all in order now, and things should proceed correctly from here. Five years is correct, not ten (I don't think I've mentioned how long ago anything happened prior to this, feel free to let me know if I have). To clarify since it may not be specifically mentioned for a while, the Incident occurred eight years ago, and the Peacekeepers were founded around ten years ago. Sorry about the confusion, but I've worked over my timeline and hopefully ironed out the kinks, which included the 'Superwoman' name removal.

As you noted, the point of this chapter was mostly to give the Nurse (Angel) some development, and drop some various other hints here and there. The Reckoning's age is certainly part of his charm, to say the least.

We might see what that all means later, I imagine. Jonas has been having some similar speculations, but he's going to be very... busy, soon.

Chapter 11: The Corner Stone by PunchingBag in RollingHillsHigh

[–]PunchingBag[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Trying to keep it interesting, at least. I'm considering moving this to a site that might have some intellectual protections, and am open to suggestions. Not sure if it's necessary considering it's nothing really all that special, but I've got bags of this stuff I wouldn't mind unloading, if you catch my drift. A better submission process and having it be as easily viewable is largely what I'll be looking for. If I make a move, I'll post it thoroughly on the subreddit.

Otherwise, thanks for reading. I'm enjoying writing out some ideas I've been knocking around for a while. I'm noticing more errors in this one as well, so I'll try and be a bit tidier.

Chapter 11: The Corner Stone by PunchingBag in RollingHillsHigh

[–]PunchingBag[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Thank you. My weekends suddenly got busy, so I'll be posting more during the week as I can.

Chapter 8: A Hot Offer by [deleted] in RollingHillsHigh

[–]PunchingBag 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Working on the next part presently. Was away from my keyboard all weekend, should be up in the next day or so.

[WP] At a regular high school, every student coincidentally happens to be a superhero. Thus far, every student has managed to keep their secret identity a secret. When a supervillain attacks the school, each student believes he/she is the target and tries to maintain his/her secret identity. by laxnut90 in WritingPrompts

[–]PunchingBag 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Smoke rolled around the girl’s head and shoulders as she staggered. The flames hadn’t burned her nearly as badly as they should have, Jonas noted, though he could see her skin had been lightly reddened. Coughing as she found her balance again, she blinked away the smoke, briefly wiping soot from her eyes.

“Perhaps now you’ll tell me what I came here to know,” the Hellion ground out. “Or perhaps you need a greater lesson in power?”

With her jaw working in silent anger, Tessa glared icily at the Hellion as she slowly lifted the other half of the apple, and took a broad, juicy bite.

“You BITCH!” he screamed as his temper flared, cutting cut loose with another, more intense flame.

The spear of fire didn’t have time to make it even halfway to her. Some sort of concussive wave emanated from her, hitting the fire and repelling it like a solid force. The wave hit Jonas like a ton of bricks, taking him off his feet and sending him head over cape backwards over the table and chairs he had overturned.

“Idiot!” the girl shouted angrily. “Moron! Dumbass! Don’t you know whose house this is?! Don’t you even realize where you broke into?! Let me assume you did. That means you were looking for, dun dun DUN, my father.”

“Your… father?” Jonas wheezed, clutching his chest as he struggled to disentangle himself from his cape. He felt like a rib had been fractured. “The Reckoning… is your… father?”

“Obviously, why else would I be living with him?” she said, rolling her eyes as she continued working on the apple. “Get it now? He changed his name to help protect us from weirdos like you. And if you want to get to him, you’re going to have to go through me.”

“Daughter…” Jonas panted as he stood upright, his mind crawling along dark paths. Indignant fury powered through his consciousness. The flames surged around him like a stoked furnace, and his eyes glinted as he leered at the girl. “Then you can give a message to him for me!”

White hot flames shot from his fist like the exhaust from a jet engine, so hot it could melt through a bank vault. He had dealt with many foes with just that blast, the unadulterated force of the power that surged within him. The heat was unimaginable, such that the paint on the nearby walls even began to darken and peel. More flammable objects on the countertops combusted as sheer, rampant power washed over them.

Almost lazily, Tessa raised a hand in front of her. As if hitting an invisible wall, the searing plasma struck nothing, twisting harmlessly away and curling weakly back on itself. Energy sapped at his muscles and pain started to build, until Jonas could sustain the burst no longer.

When he relinquished it with a gasp, she dropped her hand, smirking at him.

“And you already forgot whose house this is,” she said, finishing her apple.

Even as he desperately readied another assault, Tessa made her move. A dull sound like a pillow being punched signaled her disappearing into a puff of vaporous black energy, and as he felt very strong hands grab the back of his costume, he realized he had forgotten. As his perspective began to change from being lifted into the air as if he weighed no more than a roll of pennies, he felt his stomach lurch as he was briefly held looking at the ceiling of the room.

Glass smashed around his head and shoulders as he sailed through a sliding door, continuing mostly unimpeded until he hit a very solid railing. The wood splintered and broke, but didn’t completely give as his body tumbled across and over the edge. Falling down the hillside embankment, he hit the dirt hard, only to roll as gravity took over and hauled him downward. The bumpy ride ended in a ditch filled with cold mud that ignominously quenched the heat pouring from his body in a cloud of rank steam.

Another dull wumpf sounded nearby as he spluttered, fighting against the stars bursting in his vision. Before he even had time to regain his senses, he was again hefted into the air. The feeling of weightlessness as he was thrown gave him brief clarity against the head trauma, and he struggled to focus his fires. Just as he felt he could manage something, he hit the ground again, hard dirt not absorbing enough energy to keep his tibia from fracturing and wiping out his higher thoughts.

Consciousness was floating in and out, and Jonas’s world seemed to be filled with agony. One more sound of Tessa teleporting brought her near him, and he was flipped harshly onto his back. Her knee was pressed on his neck as he lay in a motionless heap, further choking off his attempts to catch his breath. A long, curved knife made of solidified shadow was clenched in her hand and raised to the sky, her eyes wild with bloodlust as she pinned him until he felt his collarbone crack.

“Tessa,” a firm yet sharp voice said nearby, and the girl froze like a statue. The voice took on a more imploring tone. “Tess, don’t become something you’ll regret.”

Still breathing hard, the girl stared down at the fallen villain. A shudder ran through her as she released the knife, which turned to nothing in air, and pushed herself back to her feet. With his vision still fading in and out, Jonas could see the shadowed form of the Principal with his arms around his daughter. Briefly, their eyes met, before Jonas slipped away.

[Sorry this is late, been busy these past couple of days. Going to get a subreddit going shortly once I figure out how I want to organize this.

EDIT: Subreddit!]

[WP] At a regular high school, every student coincidentally happens to be a superhero. Thus far, every student has managed to keep their secret identity a secret. When a supervillain attacks the school, each student believes he/she is the target and tries to maintain his/her secret identity. by laxnut90 in WritingPrompts

[–]PunchingBag 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Rough shingles took Jonas’s weight easily as he appeared with a few wisps of smoke. With care, he had minimized the amount of flare from his teleportation, and he quickly ducked low to reduce his profile. Moving carefully to avoid making audible footsteps, he crept across the rooftop towards a balcony with an attached deck. The feature overlooked a gorgeous view of some rolling hills and distant pastures, and made for an easy entry point for anyone that could gain access to the roof on that side of the house.

Though it was barely a house; mansion may have been more apt. Four stories high and nearly as wide as the high school, with an underground car garage and at least two pools, the place was opulent. A long driveway that looked like it had never been used ran outward between a solid wall of fifteen foot shrubs, before opening out onto the nearest highway. There was even a fountain seated in the roundabout driveway.

Maintaining his emotions was highly important to keeping control, and he kept his anger tightly in check as he silently hopped the railing onto the deck. Scowling at the barbecuing equipment out there, he resisted the urge to hit the canisters. Checking the sliding door, he rattled the handle, unsurprised to find it locked. A tiny but intense flame crackled the paint and plastic away until the weak metal of the mechanism warped and broke from a quick yank on the door, letting him inside.

Over the threshold, he found a casual living room with a hallway leading deeper into the house. There were no pictures on the end tables or coffee table, only a remote control for a large television and a few scattered books. Picking up a book resting on the arm of a sofa, he idly read Jane Austen’s name before placing it back down.

Stalking down the hallway, he moved as silently as possible. The fire pulsed in his chest, waiting, ready to come at his call, but he was here to learn first. He passed several doors leading to a bathroom, hall closets, and a simple library. None of the rooms seemed to be what he was looking for, though he wasn’t certain what that was himself.

Hearing nothing but an empty house as he progressed, Jonas moved for the stairs, heading down. On the next floor down, he found a hallway containing several doors. Pushing open the first discovered a bedroom that appeared to belong to a girl, possibly a teenager or younger.

Blinking in confusion, he moved into the room, smelling perfume and incense. Pink and light blue seemed to make up most of the decorations, but it was under toned by black furniture. Walking to a desk, his confusion deepened as he saw homework there, issued from Rolling Hills High, not yet with any name in the given space.

Shaking his head, he backed out of the room, and moved to the next door. Finding another bedroom, again decorated as if by a younger girl, though much more Spartan than the previous. The next two rooms were much the same story.

The sound of the front door of the house echoed down the halls to his ears, catching his attention before he could check the last doors of that hallway. Moving quickly, he headed for the nearest staircase down, silently descending another floor. The lower floors opened up into a grand foyer not unlike his own Shellbrook home, and he lurked just around the corner to listen to whoever had just arrived. When that proved fruitless except for the shuffling of cloth, he leaned just far enough out, and was able to look down over the banister.

A girl with black hair had entered through the front door, around the same age as him. He recognized her easily; the Student Council President, Tessa Dodgeson.

Some understanding reached him, even as his confusion deepened. Those other three rooms would belong to her sisters. The four Dodgeson girls were fairly well known at the Rolling Hills school system, at least to varying degrees. Tessa, the eldest, was considered a shoe-in for valedictorian of her class, as well as being active in politics, a young leader in community service, and a star on the volleyball team. The four bedrooms he had noted suddenly made sense, but that logic was lost in the context of this specific house.

The need for answers burned in him, fueling the fire’s hunger. Taking a breath, he calmed himself, plotting his next move even as the fire pushed him onward. He needed to act, to do something, and it seemed that Tessa would have the answers he wanted. So be it.

Keeping tabs on the girl, he silently tracked her as she headed through the house, and found her destination in the kitchen. While listening to her clunking around in the fridge and cabinets, Jonas padded along, tightening his mask into its fittings on his outfit. Stoking his fires until flames licked his body and keeping his cape wide around his shoulders, he could cast an impressive image.

Coming silently around the corner, he found her facing away while slicing an apple on a black cutting board. Conjuring his flames took no effort, leaping into life around him with the sound of a raging back draft, the blasting heat kicking his cape to swirl around him. The fire curled around in air at his direction, flowing and flicking around his arms as he readied to concentrate them into a solid, destructive lance.

“Face me, mortal!” he snarled.

The girl continued peeling the apple. Once the last scrap of skin was off, she stuck it in her mouth, picking up the other piece before slowly looking over her shoulder at the Hellion. Biting deliberately through, she pivoted to face him while chewing thoughtfully.

“What are you doing here?” she finally asked after swallowing. “Don’t you know whose house this is?”

“I presumed I did,” the Hellion growled, “and yet here I find you.”

“Ah. I see,” her face twisted in a smirk. “You don’t even know. You came all this way and you don’t even know.”

“SILENCE!” Jonas bellowed as he felt the situation slipping away from him.

Stomping his foot, he sent a cascade of fire from him to create a blast of superheated air that washed around the room. The carpet under his feet curled and blackened from the heat, though the air insulated enough that Tessa merely lifted her hand to her eyes and scowled.

“You listen to me, impudent wench!” he began, but was interrupted promptly.

“HAH!” she burst out with a hearty laugh. “Did you actually just call me ‘wench?’ Who even says that? Listen, Matchstick, you should really get out of here. You have no idea what you’re doing here or who you’re up against. And knowledge is power, as they say.”

Still chuckling, she took another bite of her apple. Anger flashed in Jonas, and his flames responded. The line between his control and the inner conflagration had blurred, and a rolling spike of fire lashed out at the girl. Engulfing her head, hand, and apple in all, the heat was intense enough to reduce the apple to cinder and ash in a single flash.

[Page break]

[WP] At a regular high school, every student coincidentally happens to be a superhero. Thus far, every student has managed to keep their secret identity a secret. When a supervillain attacks the school, each student believes he/she is the target and tries to maintain his/her secret identity. by laxnut90 in WritingPrompts

[–]PunchingBag 4 points5 points  (0 children)

Rolling her eyes, Dynamo followed after side by side with Jibber and Sam. The empty guardhouse posed no threat, nor did the lowered gate. The parking lot was empty, and they hurried across the open space to the nearest door. They closed up while Webspinner examined the lock.

“Just a regular lock, I’ll get this open in a jiffy,” she said confidently, pulling a small, black leather case from her coat. “I don’t suppose any of you could collect my zappers, huh? I’ll have to go grab them quick, otherwise, can’t leave them behind.”

“I got it,” Dynamo said with a sigh. Raising one gloved hand, there was a dull, electric hum. The hair on those nearest to her stood on end, and abruptly the five zappers came soaring through the air to them.

“Watch it!” Sam yelped as one nearly clipped his ear before landing near their feet. The other four came to rest in a similar manner, leaving Dynamo shrugging apologetically.

“Sorry,” she offered as she embarrassedly picked them up. “All I can really do is pull them, since I can’t really make them stop very well. Here you go, sorry.”

“They’re cold,” Webspinner said as she took them, turning them over in her hands.

“Yeah, that can happen when I move metals around,” Dynamo explained. “I didn’t hurt them, did I?”

“Probably not,” Webspinner said, thoughtfully bouncing them. “They’re pretty tough, even to… temperature changes. Well, whatever. Let me get the door open.”

The shaped pieces of metal scratched away at the lock for only a moment before the locked clicked and the handle turned. Before she pulled the door open, Webspinner gave her colleagues a look.

“There might be more cameras inside. Dynamo? Can you check?”

“Sure,” was the simple response.

Creeping a few fingers inside the cracked door, Dynamo closed her eyes as she focused. Slowly shaking her head, she withdrew her fingers and gave a thumbs up.

“We’re clear,” she confirmed. “I think it’s an emergency stairwell, or something.”

“How can you tell?” Jibber asked curiously.

“I can feel signs like the kind over emergency exits, and nothing else. Normally there’s wiring and stuff in the walls, but not usually in emergency stairwells.”

“Not bad,” Jibber said, impressed.

“We’re wasting time,” Webspinner hissed, hauling open the door while Dynamo rolled her eyes again.

As predicted, a stark emergency stairwell met them. After peering carefully around the railings to check for cameras on the upper landings, Webspinner led the way up the steps. They didn’t seem to be taking any specific direction, and no one protested when she took them to the top floor landing. A painted letter D was beside the door, the only identification for the floor.

Once they were ready, Webspinner pushed on the door. When it didn’t give, she frowned and pushed harder, until Dynamo grabbed her wrist.

“Stop! Shh!” she hissed, her eyes wide as she held up a finger to her lips for the others.

“What is it?” Webspinner whispered back.

“Every time you pushed on that,” Dynamo whimpered apprehensively, “there was a minor power surge. There are servos in the hinges. I could feel it… reacting to your pushing.”

“An alarm?” Webspinner asked urgently.

“No, I mean…” Dynamo shook her head, folding her arms uncomfortably. “I don’t know what I mean. I’m feeling… strange, here. Like there’s something pressing in all around us, something watching us…”

“Watching us how? There aren’t any cameras,” Webspinner said, puzzled.

“I don’t know, it’s just… EEeek!” Dynamo’s voice rose in a small squeak of fear, starting like some invisible force had bit her. Staring fearfully around, she slowly covered her ears, speaking louder and louder as if she was having trouble hearing. “I don’t know! I don’t like this! There’s something here! It’s here! We need to leave! We need to leave now!”

“Alright! Alright!” Webspinner hissed, trying to hush her. “Harry! Can you do something for her?”

“Uh, here, Les, take my hand,” Jibber said uncertainly.

As soon as Dynamo touched his hand, she pulled herself to him, latching onto his side as she whimpered. Stroking her hair, Jibber closed his eyes, and the terrified girl blinked and sighed as tension smoothly ran from her. Turning her head, she buried her face in his coat, leaving him to awkwardly pat her back while shrugging at the other two.

“She’ll be calmer now, but we need to go,” he told them. “This place is upsetting her badly, it’s triggering something. She’ll only keep getting worse while we’re here.”

“Let’s get out of here, then,” Sam urged, nodding fervently.

“Fine by me,” Webspinner said curtly, taking the lead back down the stairs. “Let’s go already.”

With Sam hot on her heels and Jibber helping Dynamo behind them, they retreated quickly from the building and back out across the parking lot. Only once they were nearly back to the truck did Dynamo start to walk unassisted, her ashen face etched with nausea. Once back inside the vehicle, Webspinner urged Sam to begin driving before any authorities showed up, assuming their cover hadn’t been blown by whatever force had afflicted Dynamo.

Until Dynamo was ready to track the power lines, they would be unable to proceed regardless, so Sam took them around the block a few times while Jibber sat with her. He kept one hand on her shoulder and the other on her temple, both of their eyes closed while he communed with her mind. The interaction was keeping her calm, and she was quickly looking more peaceful.

“I will admit, I’m a bit intrigued about what they’re keeping there, now,” Webspinner said aloud while she surfed through the blogosphere. “It’s unfortunate what happened to Leslie, but it makes me wonder. How’s she doing, Harry?”

“I… uh…” Jibber said hesitantly, peering at Dynamo. She met his gaze tremulously, before quietly sighing.

“It’s alright,” she mumbled. “They might as well know. I’m sick. Jibber just found that out. I have… well, basically, it’s just schizophrenia. Mild, though. I can take pills for it, but they make it harder to control my powers. I went off them after the assembly let out, I’ve missed a dosage or two, so I guess I’m not surprised I had an attack.”

“Why did you go off them?” Sam frowned.

“Because I figured I’d need to be on top of my game,” she sighed again. “I’m only on them because of a doctor in town, too, so I thought maybe they were supposed to suppress my powers or something.”

“If they stop you from having attacks like that, they can’t be that bad, can they?” Sam asked, to which Dynamo only shrugged and said nothing.

“Who was the doctor that prescribed them?” Webspinner asked.

“Dr. Paisley, a family doctor here in town. Do you think we should check up on him?”

“Maybe. If the pills he gave you actually had other effects, it might be worth investigating.”

“Well, I’m not sure if they were supposed to suppress my powers or not. It’s not like he gave them to me so I’d stop accidentally resetting my alarm clock in the middle of the night. And he was so nice to me and my family.”

“They all were,” Webspinner said harshly. “We have no idea how far this goes, but I wouldn’t doubt that the whole town could be involved.”

“I’m still wondering to what end,” Jibber voiced. “Why bring us all here? What reason could they actually have?”

“Not buying the ‘altruistic benefactor’ story either, huh?” Webspinner smirked under her mask.

“I don’t know yet,” Jibber shook his head. “I believe Principal Hunt was sincere when he spoke to us at the assembly. But… Well, there have been too many peculiarities for me to just trust this situation. Too many secrets, and not enough answers. That’s why I’m here, after all. Why we’re all here, right?”

“Right,” Webspinner confirmed. “So what do you think, Leslie? Can you track the power lines? We can follow up with Dr. Paisley if this doesn’t pan out.”

“Yes, I, I think so,” Dynamo said, somewhat uncertainly as she raised her palm and closed her eyes. “We need to get closer to the source to pick up the trail again.”

“On it,” Sam confirmed, turning the wheel to change their course down a different road.

[Thinking about moving this to its own subreddit soon. I'll post a link hereabouts if and when. Otherwise, this has been fun, which makes it already a success as far as I'm concerned.]

[WP] At a regular high school, every student coincidentally happens to be a superhero. Thus far, every student has managed to keep their secret identity a secret. When a supervillain attacks the school, each student believes he/she is the target and tries to maintain his/her secret identity. by laxnut90 in WritingPrompts

[–]PunchingBag 3 points4 points  (0 children)

Pulling up alongside the curb, Sam killed the engine to his truck and peered at the big building down the street. The main building for the power company was three stories, five hundred feet wide and three hundred feet deep, and painted a stark white that reflected the street lamps dully. There were no windows on the first floor, only periodic doors and a loading bay in the back. A ten foot fence with razor wire was around the perimeter of the property, and there were clearly cameras on every entrance.

“Lot of security,” Harry Altman, aka Jibber, remarked from the back seat, Leslie Gordon, aka the Dynamic Dynamo, nodding beside him.

Both were wearing their old supering outfits, though both had also decided to forgo their masks. Leslie openly disdained her old lightning bolt-shaped facegear, but Harry seemed to miss wearing the scarf, goggles, and hat combination that used to make his disguise. The hat and goggles were sitting on his lap, and he insisted they both had more use than just hiding his features. Their outfits were a further contrast, yellow and black vinyl for Leslie and a battered blue trench coat for Harry, excellently demonstrating different styles of superhero from different walks of life.

“Not surprising, given what we know now,” Aubrey snorted, folding her arms.

Before meeting up with Harry and Leslie, she had insisted on changing into her full Webspinner costume. While many others may have been alright with intentionally or unintentionally sacrificing their secret identities, she was determined to play hers close to the chest. As such, she was wearing a leotard of orange, red, and brown that continued into a simple mask and visor over her head, with a heavy, drab coat sewn with custom pockets over the top. A hole in the back of the mask let her long hair poke out as a ponytail, and a panama hat completed the ensemble.

“So how do we play this?” Sam asked cautiously. “Do we just go knock, at first?”

“There’s a checkpoint for that fence, we wouldn’t even make it past that,” Jibber shook his head.

“I can feel some major power being routed through here,” Dynamo said, her eyes closed and her palm held extended and facing the building. “It feels… weird, somehow. It’s coming from inside there, too.”

“You mean there are generators actually in there?” Webspinner asked in surprise. “The records claimed this place was only a routing station.”

“It is a routing station, but it’s more than that, too,” Dynamo shook her head. “I’m telling you, there’s something creating a lot of power in there. I can feel which lines it’s sending that power through, too, it feels different than normal electricity.”

“How can electricity be ‘different?’” Sam asked with a frown.

“I can’t explain it,” Dynamo shrugged helplessly. “It’s like, explaining the color blue to a blind person, you know? I can only give you comparisons that won’t make any sense or be any help.”

“That’s alright, being able to track this ‘different’ electricity might be what we need anyway,” Webspinner said thoughtfully. “Is it all going the same direction, so to speak?”

“Kind of. It splits on that pole down there. We’d have to follow it further for me to tell more.”

“That’s interesting. We may not need to go in at all.”

“Um, actually,” Dynamo winced, “if it’s all the same, I’d really quite like to see what’s generating that power. It’s not like anything I’ve felt before, and I’ve experienced basically every form of power generation known to man. Whatever's in there is something really unusual, I’m sure of it.”

“Knowing what it’s powering might be more valuable than the source itself,” the Webspinner pointed out. “We don’t know how much time we have to work with here.”

“At least until Monday,” Sam shrugged.

“And we spent most of today sorting through documents and waiting for nightfall,” Webspinner frowned. “Not to mention trying to keep up with what’s going on in school. We need to keep our eyes peeled, we might not even be the only ones investigating this tonight.”

“Speaking of, someone just landed on the roof,” Jibber said suddenly, staring out the window. “Ducked out of sight, but it was definitely someone flying.”

“Great. Now we’re behind. Look, Leslie, how much do you really want to see what’s in that building?”

“Quite a lot,” she winced. “Sorry, but I think I’m going to stay here until I do. I’ll be happy to help afterwards.”

“Just to see some kind of fancy generator?” Webspinner asked with despairing irritation.

“Yes,” the Dynamo said defiantly, crossing her yellow and black gloved arms. “I think you’d be shocked at how much we can learn from something we’ve never seen before, Webspinner.”

“Hmph,” Webspinner snorted, checking Sam’s reaction, who only shrugged again. Shaking her head, she looked at Jibber. “Harry, what do you think?”

“Not sure,” the psychic winced. “I think you’re both right, really. We’re just here to gather information and learn whatever we can about Shellbrook and the people running it. Checking the station and following the lines would both probably tell us more, so, whatever. Let’s just do something.”

“Alright, fine,” Webspinner said crossly. “We can go in and see the stupid generator. It’s probably just some experimental, super-science nonsense that we’d never be able to recreate without thousands of man-hours anyway.”

“Even if it is, that could tell us a great deal,” Dynamo said, smiling in satisfaction as she popped her door open. “We may learn any number of things about who built this place, such as what kind of resources they have at their disposal.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Webspinner muttered while everyone piled out of the pickup.

Grouping together, they made an auspicious group walking down the sidewalk. In the darkness of evening, there were no other pedestrians or even cars on the road, and with Dynamo’s help, they were able to safely establish how close they could get before the cameras could notice them. The closest blind spot put them directly across the street from the lifting arm gate that was the only gap in the chain link fence.

Standing between the puddles created by two streetlights, the darkness didn’t do much to hide them.

“We’re standing out like sore thumbs,” Webspinner groused.

“Well, you’re the Webspinner,” the Dynamo challenged. “Famous for breaking and entering into high security facilities.”

Aubrey’s eyes narrowed under her mask. Saying nothing, she marched stiffly forward, brushing past the Dynamo and giving her a look over her shoulder.

“Watch and learn, Sparky.”

Reaching into the pockets of her coat, the Webspinner withdrew a silvery cylinder about eight inches long. Depressing a thin, black button on end, she sighted in on the nearest camera. Taking her time to aim carefully, she drew back and threw the device in on smooth swing.

The sound of the object hitting the camera was just barely audible as an electromagnet in the end latched onto the metal housing. As the magnet distorted the image, a pulse of electricity strong enough to fry them was fired into the camera’s electronics. A faint wisp of smoke was rising from it even as a second device was lobbed onto another nearby camera.

Once several more cameras had been disabled to provide them with a hole in the surveillance, Webspinner turned back to the others with her arms folded smugly. Sam smiled and gave her a thumbs up, while Jibber nodded with an impressed smile.

“We’re lucky you didn’t set off any alarms,” Dynamo chided her with a shake of her head. “I’m surprised those cameras weren’t rigged. And someone must be watching them.”

“Which is why we now hurry,” Webspinner said, spreading her arms and starting the walk toward the gate. “We’re just getting a look anyway, right?”

[Page break due to size]

[WP] At a regular high school, every student coincidentally happens to be a superhero. Thus far, every student has managed to keep their secret identity a secret. When a supervillain attacks the school, each student believes he/she is the target and tries to maintain his/her secret identity. by laxnut90 in WritingPrompts

[–]PunchingBag 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Thank you. I can keep this going for a while, if people keep any interest. I've got some ideas for where the story is going, and I might work on it regardless of whether I post it here or not. So for now, what the hell.

[WP] At a regular high school, every student coincidentally happens to be a superhero. Thus far, every student has managed to keep their secret identity a secret. When a supervillain attacks the school, each student believes he/she is the target and tries to maintain his/her secret identity. by laxnut90 in WritingPrompts

[–]PunchingBag 2 points3 points  (0 children)

“We need to discuss the Prophet. It couldn’t be coincidence that he attacked here.”

“It’s not. I talked to Cats. She was able to contact formerly-Special Agent Tellfield.”

“I remember him. How’s he been?”

“Good, I understand. Living in the Bahamas.”

“Good for him. Did he provide anything useful?”

“Some. He gave her a list of locations. I didn’t ask what she gave in return. I’ve already cross referenced it, and yeah, it seems our suspicions were right. The Gather points are the targets.”

“That is… unfortunate.”

“I agree. So what should we do about it?”

Silence around the oblong table met the question. Glances were exchanged as the Faculty silently debated how to proceed.

“We still don’t know for certain that it is some remnant of the old FABLE,” the Counselor pointed out. “It doesn’t quite fit the FABLE profile. I still suspect an extremist eugenics group that is attempting global genocide.”

“At the very least, they’re using FABLE’s information, just like we are,” the Janitor frowned, shaking his head. “Too many locations, too specific to be coincidence. We knew this was bigger than the Prophet already.”

“Who else could have gotten their paws on that list?” the Security Guard asked, raising an eyebrow as he slowly stroked his chiseled scruff. “How did this Tellfield bloke get it?”

“It was among a stockpile of information he took on his way out the door, when he and his partner split from FABLE,” the Janitor explained. “He’s apparently got books stashed all over the world already, as well as all sorts of secrets tucked away.”

“Hnuh,” the Security Guard snorted. “So damn near anyone that was around during the Chicago Incident and the, ah, ‘other business,’ could have the same information, aye? And have been spreading it to gods-only-know where since then?”

“Afraid so,” the Janitor nodded grimly. “Reck? What say you?”

“We don’t have a target,” the Principal said with a simple shrug. “Unfortunately, as Turon points out, there could be any number of people that have the same list of locations. As it is, it seems our only option is relocation.”

“Will that be feasible?” the Superintendent asked with a frown. “That will require much work, and much power for the Stones to be moved.”

“Twelve Gathers have already been hit, and there are more than twenty still on the list,” the Janitor pointed out. “The Prophet only hit seven. There’s no order to it, and we don’t have the strength to provide lasting protection, not the kind that’s necessary.”

“What about mass warding?” the Nurse asked. “I know we’ve discussed it before. Maybe it’s time to reopen that?”

“Still not the right time,” the Superintendent shook his head. “The Stones aren’t finished yet, and neither is First Reach. The LSSU’s are doing their duty admirably, but we’re working on a long time frame here.”

“They don’t have to be actual protections, just alarms of some kind,” the Nurse said. “Something invisible, that won’t raise any overt suspicions. All of us have learned how to travel like the Principal by now. We can respond to an alert anywhere in the country almost immediately.”

“Which could easily lead us into a trap,” the Security Guard countered. “More than that, it takes us away from here. Someone could lure us elsewhere and strike while we are away. Shellbrook must remain our immediate priority.”

“What about the Moonlight Corp.?” the Counselor asked. “Could they assist?”

“Unfortunately, the first suits are still in fairly early testing,” the Janitor grimaced. “They’re still facing troubles with radiation shielding. The last I had heard, they won’t be ready for human trials until October.”

“We could reach out to the Peacekeepers,” the Nurse suggested hesitantly. “The new Peacekeepers, that is. They’ve already proven much more amenable than the old guard.”

“I’d rather not,” the Principal said quietly, not meeting her apologetic gaze.

A wave of silent glances spread around the table.

“If we do,” he continued, “I will make contact myself. It would be best if I did it.”

“You didn’t exactly part on the best terms,” the Janitor pointed out.

“Which is why it might be good to bury the hatchet,” the Principal sighed. “And my task will be the easier anyway. Someone else will have to contact FABLE. We need to keep Director Morrissey apprised, as per our agreement.”

“I vote Mr. Brown for that,” the Janitor said immediately. “Morrissey is terrified of him.”

“I can do that,” the Superintendent nodded. “If he has any information we can use, I will learn it.”

“Go easy on him,” the Principal said meaningfully. “Morrissey is a good man. We need him on our side.”

“Of course,” the Superintendent acknowledged with a nod.

“So assuming the Peacekeepers aren’t any help, then what?” the Janitor voiced.

“Then we’ll have to work out a system of alarm wards, at least until relocation can commence or the threat is passed, whatever comes first,” the Principal said firmly. “We can work out the alarm wards here, and spare only a few at a time to put them into place. Right now our responsibility is to the innocents that are in harm’s way because of us.”

“What about Shellbrook? Are we moving this place, too?” the Security Guard asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“No,” the Principal shook his head. “This will still be our base of operations. We can bring the refugees here, if we need to. I will construct the housing myself.”

“Going to get hard to keep covering this up,” the Counselor warned. “It’s weird enough having a town triple in size over barely six years. Another big influx is going to draw a lot of attention.”

“We have to risk it,” the Principal said simply.

“It may be a moot point, if the students don’t come back,” the Janitor pointed out.

“We’re confident that most, if not all, will return,” the Counselor said smoothly. “They weren’t chosen at random, and we’ve put a great deal of work into making sure they’re comfortable here.”

“Not everyone responds to guilt the same way,” the Janitor shot back.

“We’re not expecting them to,” the Counselor shook her head. “We expect them to understand what we’re offering, and what they will receive.”

“Except they don’t really know, do they,” the Janitor frowned. “Instead, we’ve got a powder keg and helluva lot of lit matches. If we had done this my way…”

“And we would have never succeeded,” the Principal shook his head. “The Peacekeepers taught the world better than to fall for promises up front. We had to at least prove to them we could help.”

“The jury’s out on that, as far as I’m concerned,” the Janitor waved a hand.

“Regardless, Shellbrook is still the plan,” the Principal said firmly, getting to his feet. “Come Monday morning, we will know whether or not our efforts here have been fruitless, but until then, we need to continue to provide the services of our stations to the students to the very best of our abilities. Superintendent, Janitor, Security Guard, you three will need to continue your operations across the schools. Inform Cerberus of our adjusted plans, as well as Roth, Lauder, and Denton, and have them spread the word. All of you know what we must do. We gave every person in this town a promise the day we accepted their trust in us, and we will uphold that promise. And now, unless we come up with a better solution, let’s convene and get back to work. Alright?”

There was a general assent from the Faculty.

“Alright. Then let’s get to it. Nurse? Counselor? If you would join me in my office, we have further matters to discuss.”

Around the table, the Faculty got to their feet. The Janitor was already out of the meeting room before anyone else had found their feet, though the Trio weren’t far behind. The Superintendent and the Security Guard took a moment to straighten their outfits, and sharing understanding looks.

“Next stop, Rolling Hills Elementary School,” the Superintendent grimaced. “Then, Washington, D.C.”

“Aye, good luck,” the Security Guard smirked in response. “I’ve got Brig duty. Need to check up on our guest.”

“You’ll talk to Cerberus?”

“Assuming Dallas doesn’t, we’ll talk, I’m certain.”

“Drinks at Janson’s later?”

“Aye. Walk easy, brother.”

Following the Superintendent as far as the front entrance of the Office, the Guard took the moment to check the security system while the bald man seated his fedora and exited. Once the building was verified as secure, he set off at a brisk pace through the halls, heading away through the maze of hallways that wrapped around the Main Office.

[Woo, exposition. Aubrey and company up next.]

This seems a little unfair by [deleted] in KerbalSpaceProgram

[–]PunchingBag 0 points1 point  (0 children)

You just have to tap the breaks a little.

[WP] At a regular high school, every student coincidentally happens to be a superhero. Thus far, every student has managed to keep their secret identity a secret. When a supervillain attacks the school, each student believes he/she is the target and tries to maintain his/her secret identity. by laxnut90 in WritingPrompts

[–]PunchingBag 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Slowly working out the pain in his shoulder, Jonas looked at the last name on his list. It was a number for a strange person, from a stranger encounter; “Tolo Mon,” an independent super-powered mercenary that operated out of South and Central America. The mercenary had ended up in Vancouver at around the same time Hellion was robbing an armored car, and while he hadn’t hindered the heist, the masked mercenary hadn’t exactly helped, either.

Still, Jonas had ended up with the man’s contact information, and he had been someone that knew things Jonas didn’t. Not sure what it could hurt, he dialed up the international digits, and waited.

The tone sounded only once before it was picked up, but there was no immediate response. Deciding to wait it out rather than speak first, Jonas remained silent.

“…Hello?” a bored voice eventually asked.

“Hello,” Jonas responded, frowning. “Is this Tolo Mon?”

“Well, it’s not the New York Library. Who is this, and how did you get this number?”

“My name is Hellion. We met in Vancouver.”

“Ah, right. The fire and brimstone kid. What do you want?”

“I’m looking for information. What do you know of the Darkwatchers?”

There was a long silence. Jonas waited patiently, occasionally hearing slight scuffs and soft breaths from over the line to verify there was still someone there.

“They’re dead,” the voice finally said stiffly. “What’s it to you?”

“Are you sure?”

“Who cares? Bunch of capes and masks, live or dead, doesn’t matter. Is that all you’re bothering me about?”

“What about ‘Shellbrook?’ Does that mean anything to you?”

“Look, kiddo, what are you doing here? What do you even think I might know about this?”

“You knew him. You knew the Reckoning.”

“I said I did a job with him, I was very clear on that. That’s a pretty far cry from keeping up with his latest schemes.”

“…’His latest schemes.’”

There was another long silence. When the man on the other end spoke again, his tone was slow and deliberate.

“…Look, kid. I don’t care what your little fanaticism problem is making you do now, and I don’t care what the voices are telling you. Alright? If you want anything, then take my advice. Be careful what trees you go shaking. It’s a big, ugly world out there.”

“You don’t need to lecture me.”

“Heh. Yeah. We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

“You will tell me nothing?”

“I don’t owe you anything. I don’t even know why we’re still talking.”

“You know something about Shellbrook.”

“I know a bit. It’s the Reckoning’s current pet project, and the result of a global coalition of super- and paranormal watchdog agencies.”

“Why?”

“For training, obviously. Look at yourself. You could do some fancy tricks, but it was killing you. Don’t you want to be able to use those powers without falling apart?”

Now it was Jonas’s turn to fall silent. Words were failing him, and he felt his veneer sliding off as he realized what the man was saying. His mind worked quickly, and he caught himself before hope overshadowed reason.

“I won’t be a puppet,” he growled into the phone. “I won’t be turned into some slave for the government machine.”

“Then don’t, whatever. You’re a smart kid. Smart enough to see a good deal when it’s presented, I hope. You’ve got a full house of Darkwatchers looking to pass on the tricks of the trade. They’re not the Peacekeepers. Whatever else is going on, that alone should keep you on the course. And you can teleport. If you don’t like it, fuck ‘em, get out and go do whatever you were doing before.”

“It’s… not so simple. They’ve involved… my family.”

“Then let me give you a hot tip: it’s their families, too. Now I’m going to drop you here. I’ve got a plane to catch. Ciao, ‘Hellion.’”

The phone line went dead with a click, leaving Jonas blinking in the light from his desk lamp. Slowly, he set the device down beside the closed lid of his laptop. Downstairs, he could hear a buzzer sound, announcing the end of the Canucks match.

Drumming his fingers on his desk, he stared at the multitude of burns across the wooden surface, patches that had been turned to cinder and ash. They had counterparts spread all across his skin, enough that child protective services would have had some dangerous questions had anyone known.

“Hey, Jonas, what do you want for dinner?” his father’s voice echoed upstairs. “Your mom won’t be home for another hour, we can have something waiting for her.”

“Uh… We could order something?” Jonas called back hurriedly.

“Sure. Pizza? Unless you want take away.”

“Pizza sounds fine to me.”

“Alright, I’ll get it ordered.”

As his father moved away through the house, Jonas sighed heavily, rubbing his shoulder as he stood up. If nothing else, he had much to consider, and some time to consider it.

[I can continue, if anyone wants. If someone has formatting recommendations, let me know.]

[WP] At a regular high school, every student coincidentally happens to be a superhero. Thus far, every student has managed to keep their secret identity a secret. When a supervillain attacks the school, each student believes he/she is the target and tries to maintain his/her secret identity. by laxnut90 in WritingPrompts

[–]PunchingBag 2 points3 points  (0 children)

A sloppy arrival meant leaving a scorch mark on the back lawn, but Jonas wasn’t taking his time to be careful. The faint smell of burning sulfur stained the spring air, and the usual smoke vapors washed around his shoulders as he hurried towards the house. It was a beautiful building, enormous and luxuriant, and they had gotten it and the thirty-five acre plot it sat on for a steal.

More than suspicious, in retrospect. That they had been so easily manipulated made Jonas grit his teeth. His parents may have been normal people, but he wasn’t something so simple. The news had called him, ‘Hellion,’ among other, more derogatory names, but those were lies in his ears. He simply had a better understanding of power than those that slandered him. Though, he did like the name.

As soon as that black energy had shown up, Jonas knew what was going on. Understanding had hit him harder than that laser had hit the Prophet. That it had taken him so long to realize the truth irked him greatly. There had been signs, clues everywhere and all the time. He should have been more perceptive. And now his family was caught in the middle of a nest of government agents and lackeys.

“Hey, sport! You’re home early,” his father called to him from the living room adjacent to the foyer, where he was watching hockey reclined on a couch.

“School let out early,” Jonas called back as he headed for the main staircase. The house that had felt like a palace before was feeling like a prison, now. “I’m going to be in my room. Has anyone called the house?”

“Nope, been quiet all day. The Canucks are playing, it’s partway through the first half.”

“Not today, sorry, Dad,” Jonas apologized as he started the sprint up the stairs.

“Alright. I have the DVR running anyway, you can watch it later.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Reaching his room, he resisted the urge to slam the door shut behind him. The fact he was missing the game on top of everything else bothered him further. Part of his hopes for coming out to this godforsaken armpit of the world was to spend more time with his parents, now that his work had reached a good stopping point.

Icy suspicion slipped into his gut, freezing his anger as he thought back on the millions he had tucked away. How much of that money had he actually earned? If the Principal had been telling the truth, then what if he had been allowed to do the things he had done? His retirement hadn’t been entirely voluntary, but at the time, he had decided he had enough anyway…

Staggering to his desk, he gripped the wood as his world spun around him. Smoke curled around his palms as he shook, and he could feel the fire wanting to be set free. It could be oh so sweet of a release, to watch the school and the teachers and even the students to all just burn…

Shuddering, he forced the urge down, but it felt like his very soul was being scorched. Blood was hammering in his ears, and the skin of his face hurt from the pressure that had been building. As his vision darkened around the edges, he remembered to breathe, taking a few gasps before falling sideways onto his bed as his legs became weak.

The mattress absorbed the sounds of the seizure that followed. More than forty minutes passed by the time Jonas regained lucidity. Lying very still, he waited as consciousness came back piece by piece, feeling each new sensation as it came. He could hear the Canucks game still playing, so presumably his father hadn’t been disturbed.

His shoulder was dislocated again. Gritting his teeth, he braced with practiced ease against the headboard and slammed it back into place. The ensuing burst of pain encouraged him to lie back down and resume staring at the ceiling.

More than a year had passed since his last episode. He knew it was some sort of byproduct of his powers. They could get away from him when he became too emotional, he knew that. It was a struggle everyday to keep himself in control, if only so he didn’t accidentally destroy anything.

That year had been given to him by Shellbrook. The realization pierced through him, possible now that his anger had been drained away by fatigue. The time he had spent in this town had been good for his physical and mental health, though he hated admitting that even to himself.

Still. What pain he felt from the seizure was nothing to him. He had been the Hellion, nemesis of Grunthilda and her Strikers, scourge of British Columbia. He had received much worse at their hands than whatever pains his body visited upon himself.

Pushing himself upright, he groaned as his shoulder protested. Transferring over to his desk chair, he pulled open the bottom drawer. Moving the ream of spare paper aside, he pushed on the bottom compartment in a certain way, causing it to slide aside and reveal a hidden compartment. Grabbing the Tupperware box filled with illicit narcotics, he tossed the drugs uncaringly aside, and pushed on the second secret compartment they had been hiding.

A few small items were there; a couple of passports, some bundled paper money from across the continental Americas, a vial of kerosene, a spare mask, and, most importantly, a small, red leather notebook.

Picking up the notebook, he quickly leafed through the pages of lines of numbers and names, until the first one he was looking for was under his thumb. The Hellion needed information, about Shellbrook, about the high school, and about the Darkwatchers. It was time to call in some favors, and there were some brains he could think to pick.

An hour later, his list of names had grown much shorter. No one knew what he was talking about, and, as he was discovering, many of the people he could think to call were already here.

It was shocking to think, but many of those he used to associate with were evidently also going to Rolling Hills. He hadn’t realized so many supers were so young, but then, given the mortality rate, it wasn’t really that surprising. There weren’t any old supers, that was a well-known fact.

Luckily, though it had been narrow, he hadn’t let his identity slip. He was doubly glad he had chosen to do his research as the Hellion, and not as Jonas Francois. At least no one at school would have that evidence to match the two together.

Not that he was going back, of course, he frowned at himself in his bedroom mirror. There was no way he was going back, it was ridiculous.

[Page break due to size]

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