Snass

I wanna be a saikyou hero!

Dramatic zoom in to the deep brown of Arduous' eyes in contemplation, and then an equally rapid zoom out...,

Arduous Huff the kinetic sponge hero shivers. He looks out at at the bank with a newly focused gaze. It feels as if half a decade passes in the furtive silence between the explosion and the current moment; but Arduous has no time for reminiscence.

An ungodly clank sounds as the thick reinforced door ricochets across the marble room, clearing a full tesudo of law authorities. Arduous gazes half-lidded at the abruptly exploded vault door; The oddly-proportioned man moves with almost an arachnid gate, limbs moving disjoined to his centre of mass. The banks secure atrium now becoming exposed it’s fortune laid bare.

-- shock --

To most eyewitnesses an abhorrent sight penetrates their eyes; but to stoic Arduous Huff the suspiciously empty vault is par for the course. Tendrils of mutant sponge tickling at the nerve ending behind his eyes, Arduous investigates the seeming empty bank vault.

With an immediate understanding that the deed is done, He turns. Puffed triangular cheeks orbiting around his head like fleshy moons. “Angelo, why are we wasting our time on this? It’s not like the Agency will pay us for the trouble, and seemingly our perpetrator has already run away with the money. what’s the point in all this?”

The ineffectual officers tending to the myriad kidnapped victims simply continue their business tending to the affected.

- Ruffle -

Reaching for a city map, the young Arduous Huff offers to his moustached companion, “There are plenty more mysteries to this city, and certainly more that the agency wish us investigate. What do you say to another trip on ol' tram to another adventure?”

I wanna be a saikyou hero!

The button depressed with an audible click, activating a flickering red light on the receiver. A lingering moment passes, black box ideally blinking, before a similar small red light in the crumpled farmhands neck begins to pulse. “Ya see, I told you’s that I ain’t messing. They told’s.. - they told’s me that when I'm in a scape jus’ press this here button and It’ll be my ultimate weapon!” screams Billy, face reddening with rage. A few sweat drops begin to form on his squat, square brow. “ ‘s sure getting hot. Must be some sort o’ heat beam…” Steam rises from his slumped body, eyes watering. “Outsmarted ya all see… ain’t goin’a catch me, not Ol’ Bayou Billy.” the word escape the man’s lips like the final dregs of air draining from a tyre. He was right.

--KABOOM--

Scorching ash fills the room. Human shrapnel scatters around the empty hall burning and finally disintegrating where it lays.

For a moment the only thing the hero could do was stand there mouth agape at the events that had just transpired. Arduous had never seen a person explode before, it reminded him of a firework but gone horribly wrong.

Regaining his senses, he turns quickly to face the door. From this side looking out, the forecourt of the bank seems all at once to be twice it’s size, it’s edges spanning a now unconquerable distance. The rush of battle drains from Arduous and like a watched clock he settles into a seemingly slower rhythm. “....Oh yeah, I suppose we should get these people out of here” he yawns, swinging one pendulous arm in the general direction of the bound hostages. The column of light cast by the banks gargantuan doors is obstructed with the frantic rush of porcine officers who scamper towards the duo to investigate the ruckus. The bespeckled officer that stopped their entry is the first to inquire “Er, so...What’s all this then?” his joules dancing a slow waltz with every word. “Nothing to see here, move along.” replies Arduous unable to hold back a slight smirk.

The officer moved to reply and then stopped, mouth falling open. Even through dark tinted shades the location of his gaze was unmistakable. Arduous had reflexively turned his back when he caught sight of it. The shadow. The ashen impression strikes an odd charcoal pattern, contrasting against the vibrant bronze shine of the great bank vault. It’s center mass is a bulbous tumor and slightly higher sits a great void, the site of the bomb. The outer limits twist up and down and out displaying limbs crippled and bent into unnatural angles like an two crushed spiders resting back to back. To look upon felt like looking into a mirror in a dark room. Arduous paints a all too stoic smile upon his face, “Hahaha, how about we get these kids to safety… what do you say officer?” Arduous states in his best ‘hero’ voice. Moving to help the last of the hostages free of their bounds Arduous leans over and whispers in his companion's ear “Have you ever seen something like that before?” he didn’t have to wait for a reply, the sound was akin to water through cold pipes, or the settling of an old house. Arduous reluctantly turns to face the vault and it’s ghastly shadow his spine feeling as if he has just sat on a bed of nails.

--THUMP--

The lawmen begin to bark orders hurrying the last of the hostages out of the banks cavernous hall...

--THUMP--

...some officers try to stand their ground and take aim at the vault. All wavering shortly after, reconsidering and running out into the morning…

--THUMP--

Only two men remain, a bulky mustachioed man looking more gleeful than frightened, and his lanky, boater hat wearing partner who yawns.

The vault door finally gives, falling away like a great coin tossed against the sidewalk…

TO BE CONTINUED...

I wanna be a saikyou hero!

The sky, as blue as tropical sea water infects Arduous’ eyes with glistening dew. “It’s too fucking bright” the words escape through the groggy haze of half-awakeness. The tram ride was unpleasant, and slower than he’d like; that old driver always took his time. ‘Honestly, only going 200 during morning rush hour, it’s not like any of us have anywhere to go,’ his mind curmudgeons.

The lanky man hands fish inside of his dusty brown paletot overcoat, brushing past a wallet he knows is now empty, filtering out a similarly destitute metal flask, and finally grasping at a black leather bound case. An uncharacteristically quick flash of motion places shaded glasses atop his thin brow as if produced from thin air, the leather case returning to his inner left pocket as if his mind changed.

“Just great. . .” a voice says from a mouth seeming much closer than the sound it produced, Arduous lists slightly away from the noise, an involuntary response recorded through molasses. “Good morning officer...” Arduous manages to slur in return, gazing towards the city bank door. A crowd of similarly dressed men, all seemingly similarly squat and moustached idle around it’s twin carven slabs. One particularly portly officer begins to wrap yellow and black tape across the door before thinking better of it, and meanders his way back to the coffee and donut booth. His legacy reading in white text “CRIME SCENE, DO NOT ENTER”.

The oddly angular man's hands again reach into his coat pocket, searching for his identification card. A moment of familiar dread fills him when he finds his right pocket empty. “We are no civilians.” states his towering companion, brazenly displaying both his own and Arduous’ Hero Association ID. “what he said…” Mutters the slumped figure, each moment of dral conversation taking a physical toll on his body and numbing his sense deprived mind.

Without warning the ground beneath Arduous melts away, the sights around him blurring as he lurches forward. Dazed he shakes his angular head, “Oh… looks like I’ve found the door” he says still back-tracking his mind to the moment before autopilot kicked in.

His athletic college begins jogging in circles beside him, breaking out into a light run and then the speed is duplicated, and duplicated, and duplicated... until the huge man is no more than a mottled stream of bronze, red and white. Like a spinning top on the edge of collapse the muscled man widens his arc, spinning elliptically too and throw, the edge of the crazed dance turns, pointing almost like a double-thick line towards the gargantuan doors. The sound of a whip crack echos about the scene, as the foot of the mustached hero booms against the stone aperture.

Dust spouts from the carven frame, as the great doors begin to slowly turn….

~~~KUUUURRRRSSSHH~~~

The pair peer into the first city bank, morning light beaming against their backs. Arduous still recalled his first visit all those years ago. He remembered feeling as if their should be some sort of skylight or windows in one side, the gloom of the place permeates his being. ‘this place is a lock box outside and in’ he mumbles to himself.

His eyes adjust quickly to the low light, and are greeted by a the familiar grand charcoal pillars with their limestone ionic capitals, holding aloft the three main trading balconies. The hostages had been gathered in the central queuing area, from what he could see three men, six women, all bound with old rope and gagged with some unknown type of packing tape. The silent victims all wore the navy blue with white pin stripe that denoted them everyday till clerk. In the centre of the living, the body of a black tuxedoed man lays crumpled on the floor, a pool of crimson staining the back of his jacket.

"H'what in tarnation?" Spat a heavy set man, dressed in blue denim overalls, his head quickly snapping towards the hero's under his sun faded straw hat. The cock of his shotgun sounds like music to Arduous’ ears. “Ehem-hem, Sir. Do you mind if we have a look around?” Arduous inquires, placing his thick baton like hands into his deep coat pockets. “Err.. s’of course I mind! Now get or y’all end up just like him” insists the firearm wielding man, a trickle of sweat starting to run off his shrunken forehead and across his grey, bagged eyes. “Ahh..well that’s a shame, because... ah where is it…. Aha!” Ardous retorts while producing a folded up piece of paper. Taking a step forward with every de-fold, the lanky man slowly un-scrunches the thick, cream-white paper, with one eye on his work and the other on the assailant. “...I, Chief Lysander Tillman, give full permission for legal investigation and involvement in crime scene QA20157. (AKA; suspected armed robbery of First City Bank) to any Official “Hero” of the Hero Association. This includes full search warrants of said premises: #1 First City Bank, Premier Quadrant, Mercier Gardens..signed Chief L.Tillman 6/2/3/50.” He reads, a smile widening as he paces slowly closer to the now slightly shaking armed man.

“N-now you hear… I ain’t playin’ Rosy here’ll get you good boy! She’s in the mood for more blood…” The hick threatens, aiming the jagged, sawed off barrel towards Arduous. “Oh, yes and another question I have Mr Bayou….do you mind if i call you Billy? No,no that wasn’t the question. Billy, do you have a license for that firearm?” Arduous cranes his upper half to the side, mimicking as if a curious dog had been caught in some kind of taffy puller.

The shot called out through the cavernous hall, the boom reverberating against ornate marble, and inlaid gold to produce the clatter of cannon fire. To Arduous the impact felt all at once like death and life, like pleasure and pain. The frail human skin that covered his chest was blown apart like wet paper. The buckshot however found a resting place not in sensitive muscle and organs but in blood soaked sponge. “....Oh, that was a bad Idea on your part Mr Bayou.”

I wanna be a saikyou hero!

-------------------------------------------------

CITY-U

7/2/3/50

'VANESSA'

-------------------------------------------------

Arduous pushes the memory of his hero exam into the back of his mind, today was a new day and today all we wanted to do was go back to sleep.

His arm like a heavy chain swings from where it is magnetically affixed to the railing. "I can't believe they woke me up for this." Arduous complains, eye lids winking one after the other.
He watches as the scenery rockets by the window. Roof tops and concrete, the occasional patch of trees whose leaves had just stared to turn, from summers rich green to autumns deep amber. This truly is the heart of the city.
A line of thick green metal bars slithers into his view the speed causing them to look like floating snakes. To the untrained eye innocent enough, but to a tram going veteran it was a sure sign of a tunnel.
The outside rush of air becomes more audible and then with a plop the tram is plunged into darkness. Dim headlights slowly fade on overhead, barely illuminating the many passengers, some of whom are still clearly shaken by the sudden lighting change.

The brakes screech. Causing the standing passengers to bolt forward, however the seated passengers carry on, unaffected. The trams telecom crackles to life and through it speaks the flat toned driver. "First stop, Troiseme Quardrant. Palmiers Plaza." as the tram parks with a loud hiss.
A cluster of people from the far side of the tram funnel out onto the dimly lit platform the morning sun illuminating from the stairwells to the surface."We should stop here one day, try'n make it big on the slots" Arduous says jabbing his muscular companion with an elbow. A few commuters shamble onto the tram, "You can always tell the lucky ones from the unlucky, It's in the eyes" observes Arduous, gesturing to the passenger paying upfront.
"Nice thick wallet on him, must've had a good night" agrees a conversation in the booth to Arduous' left.

He stands in the dark for a time, the novelty of the tram wears of quickly, “at least they're quic-” His thought is cut off by movement out the window, eyes reflexively scanning around for another sign. He stares intent at the pitch black portal, it's smooth shiny surface reflecting a faded image of the passengers in the tram. 'what was that?' he wonders to himself, eyes straining to make out anything, and then he sees it out of the corner of his eye.

A grey mist licks the window. It starts to swirl, in a mesmerizing complex pattern, the outer reaches of the mist spiral around one another, creating almost a frame for the vortex of mist within. Arduous is hypnotised, stunned at what he is seeing. He hears 'Angelo's voice, but it is distant, obscured. He feels like he's falling, falling into a black void edged with grey.

The mist flickers, giveing way to an image, A blind lion, aged and regal. The Lion struts through it's territory, knowing that wherever he reaches, he is king. Two pockets of mist appear around the lion, One floats towards the shadows and forms into the shape of a ravenous hyena. The other pocket stretches, and twists itself into a great cobra, fangs dripping with malice. The lion, in all it's pride ignores the new creatures,"what are they to the king" it thinks. The creatures circle, encased in shadow, they move closer and closer to the lion, and to each other.The lion lays down, a single moment of weakness. "Now is the time" both new creatures think. In a flash the lion is dead, it lies bleeding as the Hyena and the Snake realise, that the battle for the throne had just begun.

"Final Stop. Premier Quadrant, Mercier Gardens.” Crackled the driver over the trams telecom.
Arduous blinks, realising his companion has been trying to talk to him for some time, "I-uh, I guess we're here then." He says, feeling as if he had just slammed into a wall of lucidity.

I wanna be a saikyou hero!

The evening rain brakes, washing the sky in a pink haze. Connell grunts from the blow, eyes set on Arduous, back turned.

Arduous frantically searches the newly formed phalanx of spectators, a cheering blockage between him and escape. "Come on, come on. Just let me in already" He whines. some members of the crowd looks sympathetic and shuffle to the side, but like a well oiled machine their spot is instantly taken by another member of the crowd.

Connell thumps forward with an apish gate, thick legs pumping his body forward, while his burly hands hang limply to his sides. He tenses his arms, and his huge hands start to contract, shrinking into miniature versions of their previous selves. He rushes towards arduous, bringing together his arms at the wrist. Just before bowling Arduous over he stops dead, swinging his arms back, his tiny hands palm up, aiming directly into to the small of Arduous' back. The bowler hatted man gives of a siren screech with a scratchy high pitched voice, "ART OF THE STARCH TECHNIQUE: OPEN PALM MASHER!".

The tiny palms impact Arduous back with a loud CRACK, The angularly faced man's hips are forced forward, but he remains on his feet. he cranes his neck around, eyes full of rancour. Small droplets of blood and spittle spew from Arduous mouth, feeling his back and abdominal muscles buckle, 'Oh, this is bad, ow ow ow' he thinks, attempting to look stoic externally. He swings around to return the kinetic energy but Connell dashes backwards. "You think I'll fall for that twice? but seeing as how you took that attack. I think it's time to get serious".

Connell starts to steam, the smell of starch wafting through the air, his whole body compacts and shrinks. His skin becomes more leathery and liver spotted. His muscles smooth out, his one bulky frame becoming lithe. Ridges form about his body, long triangular indents streaking his face and limbs. "ART OF THE STARCH TECHNIQUE: CHIP BODY!" he smirks, calmly walking towards arduous, "Just try it" he sneers as he comes into range of arduous' attack.

Arduous takes the bait, fists clench he goes in for an all out barrage, he goes to to punch but stops, feeling the overwhelming aura radiating from Connell, "Hi-His defence, it's unassailable, there are zero weak spots. How is this possible?" Arduous whines aloud. visibly sweating. 'I-I I need a plan, ah, oh, god damn it.' Arduous looks around frantically, 'I have to get him to let down his guard, to slip up.'

---------------

Seeing an opportunity La Passionné Poisson , leaps into the fray with a loud "BANZAI", bright red headband trailing behind her she glances at her assailant. Once a hulking giant, Now smaller, lither, but much more powerful.

She straightens, resolution glowing in her eyes. "I’ve never seen a defence technique like that, I'll have to use that technique" she gloats to the crowd. She regulates her breathing, the world around her becoming a void. “I am the whirlpool in the placid lake. The tornado on the sunny day. SUSHI-SENSHI TECHNIQUE: BREATH OF THE VORTEX" her mouth gapes open, stomach inflating and deflating like a blacksmiths bellows. Debris and dust starts to whirl around her open mouth, being slowly sucked inwards, the stomach convulsions increase, the four fighters in the ring are all drawn towards the oral current.

Connell panics, "No, I wont let you eat me I'll use my most dense form, ART OF THE STARCH TECHNIQUE: BAKED BODY!" . His lithe body becomes more and more dumpy, his limbs inflating from seemly source less fat, his abdomen becomes nearly completely spherical.

Now's my chance Arduous thinks, and with a flash grabs a rock as it whizzes by his head, toward La Passionné Poisson. He focus all of his kinetic energy into the throw aiming at dislocating his jaw. with a mighty heave Arduous flings the pebble, like a bullet leaving a gun, as it breaks the sound barrier a stunned Connell turns his head just slightly before. CRUNCH. the pebble embeds itself into his soft mushy flesh with such force that his head is flung back.

The Mcnail Brother is defeated.

The Order: A Tale of Steam and Monster Hunting

Hello everyone,

I'll get right to it and say apologies but due to IRL things im going to have to bow out.

Luckily I suppose, this news came early and so I haven't even posted anything yet, so nothing lost really.
Still it's never feels good to be a flake. I hope you all have fun in Vatican City, I'll be sure to read along whenever i next get time.

With apologies,
Snass

I wanna be a saikyou hero!

Arduous tumbled, concrete slamming against his jutting chin. The pain felt like salvation.

---------------

Arduous' chin springs up from the impact giving off an audible % BOING % that rockets his head into the air. After some erratic limb flailing he finally stiffens into a feet first pencil dive bracing for impact.

The solid pavement leaves his legs wobbling, but with a great lack of grace he manages to come to a stand. His pointy cheeks swing about, as with a snap of the neck he searches the crowd for his phantom attacker. Realising he would never be able to pick out the anonymous assailant in the sea of people he barks at the whole crowd “OH COME ON, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

He looks back at the imposing figures in front of him, a bead of sweat trailing down his potato like forehead. His bagged eyes affix onto the carnage that has become of the arena. Metal tubes, blood and vinyl records litter the floor around him.

The taller of the men turns slightly. Filling Arduous with a deep dread. The gargantuan man's impossibly black bowler hat casting a pitch shadow across his eyes. With a twist of the neck his eyes catch the light, causing an unnatural red flash to be cast from the abyss of the hats brim. The hulking bowler hatted man suddenly spurts forward. Gushing towards Arduous with all the intensity of a boiling geyser. His thick club hand wraps into a fist and strikes Arduous in the stomach with a damp =THUD=.

Arduous keels from the blow, spittle spraying from his clenched teeth. “Ow, ow ow owowow” he wheezes. He flops onto his knees, lower ribs burning.

Arduous exhales sharply to steady his breath, he is silent for a second. Allowing those around him to hear a slight squishing sound. Dark brown eyes look up at the muscle bound attacker. “That really hurt, thanks.” Arduous says a smile creeping onto his face. Like a praying mantis catching prey Arduous' own fist hurls at the shoulder of the beastly man, quicker than he could possibly react.

The impact area is like a meteor crater the titans left arm and shoulder is blown off, in a mess of purple blood and sand beige skin. As his lower arm drops to the ground it liquefies into a gloop of flesh, and then moving on it's own volition, it begins writhing its way back up and sewing itself back into place, the crater starts knitting itself back together.

La Passionné Poisson screams in horror, “B-b-but how did you know he could regrow limbs?!” she stutters to Arduous.

“Oh, I didn't” Arduous replies nonchalantly.

I wanna be a saikyou hero!

' Oh no, im going to be late!' thinks Arduous, evening rain streaming down his now red blotchy face.

Arduous huffs at the sight before his bagged down-turned eyes. The crowd looms. Reminding him of a school of piranhas, he sees it hungrily devouring unsuspecting salary men and passers by into its ranks.

“Looks like the place” he says aloud gazing up at the huge “HERO ASSOCIATION” sign bolted to the front wall of the skyscraper. 'Must be a new one, too tall to be that old.' he ponders to himself, scratching at the cloud of hair that floats atop his head. He plunges head first into the crowd. An elbow. A fist. The cry of a small child. The sensations barrage him as he pushes his way deeper and deeper, “What are these people even gawking at?” he exclaims, hands paddling through the sea of people. Deeper and deeper he wades, then finally. 'An opening!' Arduous peers forward catching a glimpse of action.

---------------

“Well, we're waiting, come on then! Buncha heroes you are, ya lilly-livers!” shouts a squat man, wild red hair stuffed violently under a solid black bowler. His teeth yellowed and sharpened to fine points. His eyes are a brilliant, almost glowing blue his face is similarly coloured in a mess of knot work tattoos.

He points toward the crowd, rolled up sleeves displaying thick ape like arms.

“WE AINT MOVIN' 'TILL ONE O' YOUS FIGHTS US!”

---------------

Arduous feels a wave of excitement and fear run though the crowd. The crowds shuffling quickens, and Arduous is pushed closer to the front, the dense collection of suited salary men starts to give way to a second group. “Is the circus in town?” Arduous thinks to himself looking around at the oddly dressed men and women. He rushes forward, eager to see more of the oddly accented men that seem to be guarding the buildings entrance. “Oh no” he stutters, a moment of clarity seizing his mind. “Bugger off. No. They can't be the try-outs” his suspicions becoming more and more cemented. The number of oddly dressed crowd members grows, and Arduous starts to regret ever coming here in the first place. 'But…but they look so STUPID!' he thinks absently not realising that he is now ensnared to the will of the crowd, its tide back and forth dragging him here and there.

---------------

A challenger steps forward!

Frizzy hair pushed back by an oversized cowboy hat “I the great, Record Breaking Ranger, will defeat yo' tirade of villainy!” he spits at the stalwart guards, chest puffed outwards defiantly.

With a deft twist of his wrist his poncho flicks to one side, revealing a gleaming chrome arm, that disjointedly meshes into his copper coloured skin just above the elbow. He slightly bucks his hips to the left, chrome fingers twitching beside holstered vinyl disks. “You feeling lucky punk?”

---------------

The once nervous crowd bursts into cheer, its sound deafens Arduous as he is dragged back into the depths. The fancifully dressed patrons rushing forwards for a front row seat. A scream. A crash. A snap. The crowds noises are disorienting, but after a few minutes Arduous is pushed back to the front, head sandwiched between a burly man in a luchador mask and some sort of fish-person, “What! How did this happen so fast!” he exclaims in terror. The Record Breaking Rangers legs still stand at the point of the shoot out, spurting oil and blood, his top half nonchalantly held by the older, silent brother in a meaty paw. The crowd panics, people pushing and running in all directions, a push from behind sends Arduous forward, bringing the luchador and fish-woman with him. He yelps a sudden “OH NO, WHY!”

The younger now blood soaked brother turns and says with a smirk, “Aaaah, I see's we got ourselves a new buncha eegits!”...

I wanna be a saikyou hero!

You always heard it first, the tram. The screeching of metal brakes smouldering against aged track. Like the scream of a berserker flying into battle.

The all too familiar noise pierced the air, the noise causing what little hair Arduous did have to bristle and stand on end. He blinked dully, still lifeless since the mornings excitement. He stands and starts to limber up, preparing for the tram ride ahead. He glances down at his partners pocket watch, “only ten minutes late, that's not too bad from around here actually.”

The banshees call from the tram becomes ever louder, its forest green body, pocked with flecks of rust and debris, creating the look of some great gangrenous mass.

A whoosh of air precedes the arrival of the green beast, which follows and instantly stops perfectly within the raised platforms as if it had suddenly buckled and died.

A great hiss erupts from the beasts maw, it's doors swinging mechanically outwards, awaiting prey.
Arduous looks up from his paper at the monstrosity before him, and with a sigh heaves himself up onto his feet, 'oh what fun' he thinks missing his car more with each passing second. A crackly speaker squeaks into existence and plays a pre-recorded “Please Mind The Gap.” He approaches the hissing doors, bracing himself to see the inside of this thing.

Ignoring the inane chattering of the accented and unkempt man driving. His eyes found themselves looking upon the interior of he tram, 'what the-' his eyes widening in shock. 'How does it look this...this….GOOD!' Contrary to its aged and rusty exterior, the carriage's insides are furnished like a first class antique train. polished wooden panelling adorns the walls, plush red velvet seating, tufted with small buttons, embowered on which is the cities emblem. The three petalled fleur-de-lis. The waist high tables are accented with bronze and copper curves, and the windows are hazed as to ensure both light and privacy.

Leaving 'Angelo to pay the driver Arduous quickly set about looking for a seat, but much to his chagrin it seems that, as always in the overcrowded outer regions of City U, there is barely space to stand.

Shuffling over to a standing spot, Arduous finds a bronze pole gleaming in burnt umber. That seemed to have been installed after the major design work as the holes for the pole each side are a stark plastic contrast to the other metal and wood furnishings, he did note however that this tram too had the standard chrome metal flooring, with it's hash work of metal divots.

As soon as he touches the smooth metal bar, the flat yet oddly intimidating voice of the driver calls out “You will be careful with Vanessa, or no ride again.”. Arduous pondered who this 'Vanessa' was, he didn't know anyone named Vanessa, and even if he did, why would he want to know someone who knows that old coot. Putting it into the back of his mind he grabs a hold of the smooth umber bar, a slight yet familiar shock running down his arm and into his legs, 'ah so this is a normal tram after all' he thinks anxiously feeling his feet sticking magnetically in place.

The doors gives another louder hiss as they shake to a close, sealing with a small

# click #

The engines roared into life, the parking brake barely holding, “Number 177: Septieme Quadrant, Bloque 48 To Premier Quadrant, Mercier Gardens.” grumbled the driver, hands a flurry of action.

~ WHOOSH ~

The jolt of action was still a shock even after all these years. Even though it has been five years since Arduous was forced to be on tram, and as his shoulder burned from the sudden tug of acceleration he remembered why. “You never really get used to that” he says bluntly to his shocked, but also thrilled, looking companion.

Arduous looked around at the bustling tram, he caught a glimpse of a neighbouring block fliting by he window, at this speed it is hard to make out much of anything, and the hazed windows didn’t help. He found that he is drawn to a broad shouldered gentleman, sleeping back on the panelled walls. Legs outstretched, taking up at least two extra seats. His small bowler hat tipped forward obscuring his eyes but not covering the mishmash that was the man's lips, like fresh cut meat tied in twine, they criss-cross with scars, a newer still red scar protruded from the corner of his mouth, as if his cheek has been split from his mouth inward and somehow glued shut.

A childish grin erupts on Arduous's face, seeing his handiwork out in the open like this is a rare treat. “oh, look isn't that one of those lads we bopped on entrance day?” he says, words dripping with fond memories...

-------------------------------------------------

CITY-U

1/2/3/50

OUTSIDE HERO ASSOCIATION HQ

-------------------------------------------------

It was raining when he arrived, the mob of hopeful wannabe hero's still standing outside the dark gunmetal grey building that was the hero association HQ, 'oh why did I ever sign up for this, much less bother to show up, this can't go well' Arduous thought to himself, he looked around wondering at what the crowd were all looking at, and why they hadn't gone inside yet…

I wanna be a saikyou hero!

-------------------------------------------------

CITY-U

7/3/2/50

HERO ASSOCIATION HQ

-------------------------------------------------

The world is a hazy mess of sound and panic, something is happening and to Arduous that is never a good thing.

He mindlessly blinks as the screeching seeps in, furrowing it's way into his freshly awoken mind. “Show time? No, no, nap time.” he says before he can even start thinking, the fog of sleep still shrouding his mind. He sits motionless for a second. “Yes, yes ok. I'm awake.” he sneers, snatching the thin printed tape from his muscular companion. “A robbery?….THAT BASTARD. Who the hell does he think he is waking me up like this” Arduous grumbles clasping the all too sharp edges of his office chair, his forearms pressing into the chair, elbows splayed in the air above due to the chairs semi-circular shape.

Arduous exhales a quick “Hmph” as his eyes burn with the promise of vengeance. He slams his palms into the hapless chair vaulting into the air, forcing the chair to retreat. He suddenly straightens in the air landing like a practised gymnast in the very spot the chair has once just been. He glares at the black phone machine, “Right, we're off” the words escaping his mouth in a spit of patronising tones. With new found energy Arduous marches towards the door, eyes set forward, radiating more drive and determination with each step. “Ah….I forgot” he mutters under his breath before, like hitting an invisible wall he stops dead. His head drops forward, shoulder slouched, the gusto and determination leaving him like air leaving a balloon. He spins, his eye's a glaze. Memories of the last week, the letters, the notices fill his head. All unheeded. All ignored. With the weight of memory pressing down on him Arduous trudges back to his desk pulling his seat by it's semi-circular cushion behind him.

He slops one elbow onto his square mahogany desk, his hand cupping his now dropping forehead. His other hand cranes around and grasps the knob of the top draw, with an effortless flick of the wrist the draw flings open, exposing a mess of trinkets and oddities. laying atop the pile is a dusty, fraying pamphlet, detailing trams times in and around City U. Arduous takes a second to read and absorb the schedule, he listlessly hoists the chair onto it's back legs, rocking softly in rhythm with the mid-day breeze.

!!SLAM!!

His chair careens backwards causing the suddenly alarmed man to yelp in surprise. He blinks the blur of impact wearing off quickly, and feels a rush of emotion and energy
His mind races “bank robbery, awake, car, Angelo, robbery, car, now?…” He swivels with a start, springing up into a standing position. “Right, I said we're off” he huffs strutting down the corridor Tram pamphlet gripped tightly in hand.

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Arduous yawns as he stares blankly at the morning news, “Mysterious activity on the rise in Deuxieme Quadrant” the article title reads, he turns looking at the gargantuan man, now wearing a luchador mask, posing in the reflection of a dime gum ball machine. “Are these things ever on time” ...