Story as promised.
This little snippit is a mood starter I wrote for my new Superhero idea. Most of you will recognize the scene from Batman Begins, honestly I just didn't have enough creative energy in me at the time to come up with an original villainous plot. But it's still interesting to see how my character would deal with the same situation. Hope you all enjoy ^_^
What defines super human? True the general term refers to any person with abilities that surpass those of normal human limits. But does a super human need to fly, have enormous strength, or be invulnerable to truly be defined as “super?” Instead, what if a man was simply better informed than the rest of the world around him? What if, rather than lifting cars and dodging bullets, a man simply knew where the bad guy is and what he is going to do? We are told in modern American culture that knowledge is power. I take that saying to its greatest level. My name is Timothy Fulbright, most people call me Tim. But I have another name, one that brings fear to those who would inflict suffering on innocent people. Whenever such dangerous people see my visage, they tremble as they utter this name. My other name is Farsight.
It’s quiet here in Seattle tonight. I know what you are thinking; Seattle’s not really considered the big time in the Super Hero world. But hey, someone’s got to keep an eye out for these people. And out here I’m not tripping over every other empowered person with a costume and an ideal. So let Spider-Man and the Fantastic Four keep New York. I’m content right where I am. Well maybe not right where I am. Right now I’m soaking wet and shivering on the roof of a rather lively abandoned warehouse. The rain that never stops in this city beats steadily against my head and back. I unfasten my cape and let it plop down on the roof. How the heck did Batman ever deal with the thing? Right now it’s so heavy from the rain water that I’d be lucky if these guys didn’t die of old age before I could throw a punch. I sigh bitterly, time for another costume change. Sometimes you’ve just got to accept that the dramatic stuff you see in the comic books isn’t all that practical in real life. I smirk as I run a gloved hand over the material that makes up the rest of my outfit. It’s made out of the latest Kevlar bi-weave, light and flexible, but protective at the same time. Now that’s practical. I make a mental note to thank David for procuring enough of the stuff for me to make an outfit out of it again. Whoop, looks like its just about show-time. I’m well away from the skylight, I don’t need a flimsy pane of glass to see what’s going on. I know every move the guys inside are making. Russians and Columbians, they’re handing off a shipment of cocaine for the Russians to distribute on the street. Knowing the Russians territory, I surmise that the stuff was probably smuggled in on a ship through Portland, and then trucked up here in the middle of the night. The stuff is hidden in a shipment of hair products, packed into the jars and tubes in bags and balloons. I know, I heard the Columbian representative say so at the beginning of the meeting. How do I know? Well that’s my little secret, and you might actually find out if you stick with this story long enough. There, the leaders are set to leave, taking their guards along with them. All that’s left are the workers, transferring the drugs onto the trucks that will take them throughout the city, and a couple of guys with Uzi’s.
Yeah that’s all… I suck in a deep breath as the drug lords pull away from the warehouse. I’ve memorized the face and voice of everyone involved; they’ll all get their turn. Right now I’ve got a shipment to interrupt. I move silently. I know exactly how much they can, and more importantly, can’t hear. Leave no trace of myself. First I’ll shake them up a bit. I look around the room below me. Perfect, the guards have their attention on the entrance, not the back of the warehouse, and the loaders are to engrossed in their task and what sounds like a vulgar conversation in Russian to notice my entrance. I move to the roof entrance, I picked the lock when I first arrived. Carefully timing my approach, I enter the door and drop onto the catwalk. At the same time, I hit a switch on my left wrist. A loud bang sounds in the nearby street, sounding like a gunshot. The guards and workers stop immediately and go to investigate the noise. It’s actually just my car, which I’ve set to start by remote; the stupid thing always backfires when it starts up. You’d think that with all this neat gear I’ve got, that I’d be able to afford a decent ride, but for all she knows about electronics, Geana, my support agent, is less that apt when it comes to automobiles. Besides, I spend all my money on the toys. The backfire buys me just enough time. While the workers are distracted, I slip down from the catwalk to one of the numerous shipping containers crowding the back of the warehouse. Next, I need to counter the advantage of their guns and superior numbers. This time the switch is on my right wrist. A homemade explosive goes off in the breaker box outside, and the warehouse goes dark. The men panic, drawing weapons and gathering together. Squinting to see what they can in the ambient light.
Perfect, in an instant I’m in position, using their chatter and shouts to cover the sound of my approach. If there were enough light in the room, you might notice a small change in my appearance, as my eyes change from a honey brown to jet black. They all crowd around nervously, unable to see more than a few feet in front of them. But I can see them as well as if they were standing in sunlight on a clear summer day. I smile as I memorize their positions, time for action. Once more my eyes shift colors as I leap from above them, this time my pupils turn white, outlined by an unnatural iris that seems to shine with all the colors of the visible spectrum, or so I’ve been told by anyone who’s seen me in this state. I hit the ground with a thud and everyone spins to find me. Now, everything stops; both myself and the henchmen frozen in place. Then I see it. The two to my left will move slower than the rest, taking more time to get their bearings. The one in front of and behind me will react the fastest, each drawing their guns and firing on where they heard the noise. Finally the man on my right will fire, but his gun will jam, he probably hasn’t cleaned the thing since he bought it. Then, everything is moving again. I leap and strike both the man in front and behind me first, kicking my legs out in the splits, catching one in the face and felling him while the other gets it in the wrists, not severely hurting him, but preventing him from firing his weapon at either me or the falling goon. My feet hit the ground and I hear a click from the gun that jammed. I surge forward and drop the two that were on my left with a flurry of perfectly placed blows to open vulnerable spots. Now the one I caught in the wrists is bringing his weapon to bear again. I drop low under the barrel and kick his knees out from under him, catching him with a fist to the jaw as he falls and shoving his pistol upwards with my other hand. The gun discharges without hurting anybody. Now all that’s left is the man with the jammed gun, who is furiously trying to get his weapon to work again. Four seconds have passed. I stand and walk calmly towards the man. A streetlight outside briefly illuminates my features for the man.
“Y-You…” The man chatters in terror. He raises his pistol and frantically tries to shoot me. By the time he pulls the trigger, he’s already missed; I know where every shot will go. The gun discharges once, I use the muzzle flash, which I know will momentarily blind the man, to rush beside the man unnoticed. To his eyes, he pulled the trigger and I disappeared. Then my knee sinks into his gut and I calmly remove the pistol from his hands. He looks at me in shock as he falls to the ground. “How?” He barely manages to blurt out before I place a well aimed kick into the side of his head. He’ll live, but he’ll have one hell of a headache in the morning.
“I’ve seen your past, present and your future,” I whisper to the darkness, “and it looks like you’ll be spending most of your future in a small room with a barred view.” My eyes fade back to their normal, average brown color. I quickly secure the men with zip ties, break open some of the product and toss a packet or two of the coke into plain view, so the cops will know what’s going on. I then pull out a cell phone and call Geana. “It’s over Geana, spread the word.”
"You got it hotshot, now get your spandex covered butt out of there.” I climb back upstairs to collect my cape, then slide into my pre-started car and make my getaway, moving slowly at first to keep from leaving any obvious tire tracks. This bust has just begun, now I’ve got to hunt down those Columbians before they skip down. It shouldn’t be too hard for me though. After all, I see everything.
What defines super human? True the general term refers to any person with abilities that surpass those of normal human limits. But does a super human need to fly, have enormous strength, or be invulnerable to truly be defined as “super?” Instead, what if a man was simply better informed than the rest of the world around him? What if, rather than lifting cars and dodging bullets, a man simply knew where the bad guy is and what he is going to do? We are told in modern American culture that knowledge is power. I take that saying to its greatest level. My name is Timothy Fulbright, most people call me Tim. But I have another name, one that brings fear to those who would inflict suffering on innocent people. Whenever such dangerous people see my visage, they tremble as they utter this name. My other name is Farsight.
It’s quiet here in Seattle tonight. I know what you are thinking; Seattle’s not really considered the big time in the Super Hero world. But hey, someone’s got to keep an eye out for these people. And out here I’m not tripping over every other empowered person with a costume and an ideal. So let Spider-Man and the Fantastic Four keep New York. I’m content right where I am. Well maybe not right where I am. Right now I’m soaking wet and shivering on the roof of a rather lively abandoned warehouse. The rain that never stops in this city beats steadily against my head and back. I unfasten my cape and let it plop down on the roof. How the heck did Batman ever deal with the thing? Right now it’s so heavy from the rain water that I’d be lucky if these guys didn’t die of old age before I could throw a punch. I sigh bitterly, time for another costume change. Sometimes you’ve just got to accept that the dramatic stuff you see in the comic books isn’t all that practical in real life. I smirk as I run a gloved hand over the material that makes up the rest of my outfit. It’s made out of the latest Kevlar bi-weave, light and flexible, but protective at the same time. Now that’s practical. I make a mental note to thank David for procuring enough of the stuff for me to make an outfit out of it again. Whoop, looks like its just about show-time. I’m well away from the skylight, I don’t need a flimsy pane of glass to see what’s going on. I know every move the guys inside are making. Russians and Columbians, they’re handing off a shipment of cocaine for the Russians to distribute on the street. Knowing the Russians territory, I surmise that the stuff was probably smuggled in on a ship through Portland, and then trucked up here in the middle of the night. The stuff is hidden in a shipment of hair products, packed into the jars and tubes in bags and balloons. I know, I heard the Columbian representative say so at the beginning of the meeting. How do I know? Well that’s my little secret, and you might actually find out if you stick with this story long enough. There, the leaders are set to leave, taking their guards along with them. All that’s left are the workers, transferring the drugs onto the trucks that will take them throughout the city, and a couple of guys with Uzi’s.
Yeah that’s all… I suck in a deep breath as the drug lords pull away from the warehouse. I’ve memorized the face and voice of everyone involved; they’ll all get their turn. Right now I’ve got a shipment to interrupt. I move silently. I know exactly how much they can, and more importantly, can’t hear. Leave no trace of myself. First I’ll shake them up a bit. I look around the room below me. Perfect, the guards have their attention on the entrance, not the back of the warehouse, and the loaders are to engrossed in their task and what sounds like a vulgar conversation in Russian to notice my entrance. I move to the roof entrance, I picked the lock when I first arrived. Carefully timing my approach, I enter the door and drop onto the catwalk. At the same time, I hit a switch on my left wrist. A loud bang sounds in the nearby street, sounding like a gunshot. The guards and workers stop immediately and go to investigate the noise. It’s actually just my car, which I’ve set to start by remote; the stupid thing always backfires when it starts up. You’d think that with all this neat gear I’ve got, that I’d be able to afford a decent ride, but for all she knows about electronics, Geana, my support agent, is less that apt when it comes to automobiles. Besides, I spend all my money on the toys. The backfire buys me just enough time. While the workers are distracted, I slip down from the catwalk to one of the numerous shipping containers crowding the back of the warehouse. Next, I need to counter the advantage of their guns and superior numbers. This time the switch is on my right wrist. A homemade explosive goes off in the breaker box outside, and the warehouse goes dark. The men panic, drawing weapons and gathering together. Squinting to see what they can in the ambient light.
Perfect, in an instant I’m in position, using their chatter and shouts to cover the sound of my approach. If there were enough light in the room, you might notice a small change in my appearance, as my eyes change from a honey brown to jet black. They all crowd around nervously, unable to see more than a few feet in front of them. But I can see them as well as if they were standing in sunlight on a clear summer day. I smile as I memorize their positions, time for action. Once more my eyes shift colors as I leap from above them, this time my pupils turn white, outlined by an unnatural iris that seems to shine with all the colors of the visible spectrum, or so I’ve been told by anyone who’s seen me in this state. I hit the ground with a thud and everyone spins to find me. Now, everything stops; both myself and the henchmen frozen in place. Then I see it. The two to my left will move slower than the rest, taking more time to get their bearings. The one in front of and behind me will react the fastest, each drawing their guns and firing on where they heard the noise. Finally the man on my right will fire, but his gun will jam, he probably hasn’t cleaned the thing since he bought it. Then, everything is moving again. I leap and strike both the man in front and behind me first, kicking my legs out in the splits, catching one in the face and felling him while the other gets it in the wrists, not severely hurting him, but preventing him from firing his weapon at either me or the falling goon. My feet hit the ground and I hear a click from the gun that jammed. I surge forward and drop the two that were on my left with a flurry of perfectly placed blows to open vulnerable spots. Now the one I caught in the wrists is bringing his weapon to bear again. I drop low under the barrel and kick his knees out from under him, catching him with a fist to the jaw as he falls and shoving his pistol upwards with my other hand. The gun discharges without hurting anybody. Now all that’s left is the man with the jammed gun, who is furiously trying to get his weapon to work again. Four seconds have passed. I stand and walk calmly towards the man. A streetlight outside briefly illuminates my features for the man.
“Y-You…” The man chatters in terror. He raises his pistol and frantically tries to shoot me. By the time he pulls the trigger, he’s already missed; I know where every shot will go. The gun discharges once, I use the muzzle flash, which I know will momentarily blind the man, to rush beside the man unnoticed. To his eyes, he pulled the trigger and I disappeared. Then my knee sinks into his gut and I calmly remove the pistol from his hands. He looks at me in shock as he falls to the ground. “How?” He barely manages to blurt out before I place a well aimed kick into the side of his head. He’ll live, but he’ll have one hell of a headache in the morning.
“I’ve seen your past, present and your future,” I whisper to the darkness, “and it looks like you’ll be spending most of your future in a small room with a barred view.” My eyes fade back to their normal, average brown color. I quickly secure the men with zip ties, break open some of the product and toss a packet or two of the coke into plain view, so the cops will know what’s going on. I then pull out a cell phone and call Geana. “It’s over Geana, spread the word.”
"You got it hotshot, now get your spandex covered butt out of there.” I climb back upstairs to collect my cape, then slide into my pre-started car and make my getaway, moving slowly at first to keep from leaving any obvious tire tracks. This bust has just begun, now I’ve got to hunt down those Columbians before they skip down. It shouldn’t be too hard for me though. After all, I see everything.