one more five horu drive to home...then ill stop spamming the status bar. promise. go back to only updating it once every few months
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1 yr ago
back in my home state. actually a real nice hotel compared to the last one that had cockroaches in the bathroom. so thats cool and good. ready to get home tomorrow. blehhhhjgkjgkjhatk
Dareen followed behind, sharing somewhat in the Sceltie's energy. For the first time in a long, longe time, Dareen felt useful. An unseen had lifted off her shoulders. Her brown eyes were undampened by sardonic bitterness. It was just her, trying to find her friend. The thought hit her unexpectedly. She wondered if Fatima considered Dareen her friend as well. Ultimately, it didn't matter. Such things could be left for later.
Mikhail was all business it seemed. He had appeared from nowhere, like he tended to do. Apparently, the only reason they should find Fatima is to further their goals. Hmm. Was that really all? Or was he just being extremely practical? It seemed cold, but, that was kind of his whole deal.
Meanwhile, Jandar was the opposite of that. He seemed like a boiling cauldron of water that was struggling to keep it's lid on. He also assumed the worst. The mercenary wasn't so sure the situation was entirely dire. It didn't feel life or death. Maybe it was just her tainted intiution.
Dareen continued jogging along. Soon, they reached the cliff's edge. Finally, Dareen turned her analysis inwards. She was probably the only one in the group who's mood had actually improved at this dilemna. It was strange. She would feel guilty if Fatima really was hurt.
She chuckled lightly at Dunny's low stakes issue. Jandar asked a question, and the answer, to Dareen, seemed entirely self evident.
"C'mere, Dunny." Once more the dog would be picked up. With a bit of telekinesis, Dareen lifted Dunny and hoisted it over her shoulder. She allowed him to get into whatever position he found the most comfortable.
"Only one way to find out what's down there." Dareen commented aloud. With that she began to make her way down the hill, using her telekinises to adjust her balance as need be. Her pace was casually brisk, not entirely worried about falling.
Harley needed to talk to her two sweet little angels.
(This is so weird. It's like, goin' around telling people you know that someone they know died. Oh, hey, sorry, old Uncle Lou bit the big one. Only instead of Uncle Lou, it's the old me. In a way. Oh, hey, sorry, I'm movin' my life in a different direction. And it affects you in a very direct way. Y'know, cause I centered my whole fuckin' life around murder and mayhem and now I don't wanna do that no more? Hopefully I didn't screw ya up? I really got no idea how Dee Dee is gonna take this...Come on, Harleen. Getcha head in da-game! Ya got this!)
Harley Quinn peeled out of the kickback in her conspicious vehicle she used for when she was going undercover. A little dark red car. On it's bumper was one of those "Coexist" stickers, you know the one. Camouflage. No one would suspect a thing!
Gotham was a great place to live. It just had a good vibe about it. Except for all the shitty parts, which she hated so, so much. If she hadn't built all of her connections and her entire life in this God-forsaken shithole of a city she would have left it long ago. Not like many other cities would be better, though. Atleast Gotham is corrupt enough that she can get away with way more stuff. Also, no Superman or Spider-Man, or Changeling or Thor floating around. Batman was pretty tough, don't get her wrong, but at the end of the day he's just a kung-fu boy with a lot of toys.
It really was the asshole of the world. Crumbling streets, bending buildings, smog and clouds. No one outside of Gotham gives a fuck about Gotham. People IN Gotham barely give a fuck about Gotham. It has the highest crime rates in the god damn country. Highest poverty, lowest in education. The politicians are as incompetent as they are stupid. And the mental health care system "By GOD Arkham Asylum!" The narration spilled out into reality. Harley began rambling aloud as she moved her shoulders in tune with the pop music on the radio.
"Four years I put up with that drek! I was loyal! I cared! What did I get for it!? BUPKIS! Nothin' but late nights and lonely Hanukkahs! That's a fuckin' rotatin' door! I would know! I been on both sides of it! OUTTA THE WAY, ASSHOLE, I'M DRIVIN' HERE!" Harley slammed the horn.
"Fuck you, bitch!" The asshole in question shouted, sticking his middle finger out the window.
"I'll rip yer legs off!" Harley shouted back, punching the wheeel as she sped around the other car. Briefly passing into oncoming traffic before swerving ahead. Then, it was over, and no one thought much of it. Exhaling, Harley loose strands of blonde hair out of her face.
"Oy vey."
---
The street lamps blasted finely defined cones through the thick, permanent fog of Gotham city. One could barely see the tops of the downtown skyscrapers. Only the divine light of the Batsignal could pierce such a gloomy veil.
Finally, she pulled up to the dejected skate park the Dee Dee twins called home. Harley didn't really know where they went off too. They seemed to exist in a little world of their own. Well, she also hadn't put much work into finding them. They could handle themselves. Easily.
Pulling into the grass-cracked parking lot, Harley shut off the car and stood. "Smell that stale Gotham air." She inhaled, stretching. "Mmmmh... carcinogens!" Harley exclaimed. With a skip in her step she went into the skatepark. It was surrounded by a decaying chain link fence, propped up by cardboard in some places. The buildings around it, that formed three out of the fourth walls surrounding the park, squeezed the park. The far wall had large hole busted in the brick, and a shabby man milled about in the hallway within.
The smooth, lonely sound of a saxophone filled the space. A figure, shrouded in darkness, had found their way to the top of a street lamp and played off-key, spontaneous cords. Perched like a gargoyle of coats and fur. Bitter grafitti was scrawled onto the walls. The skatepark itself was drenched in graffiti, all of it's many colors made black and orange by the Gotham atmosphere. It rose and fell like waves, rusted railings and withering wooden panneling, corroding concrete. Yet people still rid. Men and women rode the waves of the park, jumping and plummeting. They wore strange clothes of the deco days. There wasn't a single unmasked face among the lot. This ritual was a silent one. This place was just one of the many oddities in Gotham's forgotten corners. These people presumably led normal lives. Be it in soul-crushing offices or back breaking labor. Perhaps some were criminals, others with clean sheets. Some sober, others drunk. It didn't matter. Here they donned the cheap suits and caps of the 1920's. Placed the ugly visage of a crying clown upon their countenance...and skated their problems away.
All of them, though, had some loyalty to Dee Dee. Thus, all of them were a little loyal to Harley. Evidence by, as she pushed open the squeaking "gate" to the park, one person took notice. Dressed in a thick trenchcoat and wearing a simple but effective cheap mask, they boarded over to her. They rose from the lower area of the park and came to a stop, kicking up their board and holding it one hand.
"Hey there, slugger." Harley greeted, looking them up and down. "Ya seen Dee Dee?" She asked. Silently, they nodded. With a thumb they beckoned towards the far part of the park.
The clown clicked her tongue against her cheek, firing off her akimbo finger guns and winking. "Thanksamillion."
Harley jumped ten feet down into the canyon of the park, hit the floor, bent her knees, and bounced ten feet back to the top of another plateau. A skater appeared, the underside of their board intricately painted, and then scrolled back down into the skater park. Things were busy. But Harley spotted them.
The Dee Dee twins. Identical gingers. White shorts, red crop tops, white, poofy hats. Their cherubic faces painted starch white, two perfect red circles on their plump rosy cheeks. Finally, white roller skates. Animated raggedy ann dolls, pulled from the dustbowl and breathed full of malevolence. They circled around each other, singing a nursery rhyme. Their hands behind their backs, round and around they went. Every once in a while a skater passed by on the walls, zooming around them. The two were identical. Dee Dee was the collective name they went by. They were never apart. It went beyond the love one might have for their identical sibling. Her musings on the linked pair were interrupted. Dee Dee noticed her.
"Mama Harley!" Dee Dee exclaimed.
"Heya, girls!" Harley called back. They peeled off their circle and casually skated up to her. Big smiles all around. They approached, giving her a big hug. Harley kissed the top of one of their foreheads, and she knew both of them felt it.
"How've ya been? It's been a while!" She asked. Deidre responded.
"Wonderful, simply wonderful!" She pirouetted. Delia nodded. "Oh, yes, just fine, just fine! How have you been, Mama? The underworld shakes."
"It shivers!"
"The Prince and the Princess..."
"Gotham's favorite comedy duo..."
"Disrupted at last?" "How are you?" "Are you okay? "Shall we seek revenge?" "Have you been liberated?" Deilia asked, Deidre continuing and finishing sentences for her. Their voices were high pitched. Eloquent but small. The shrill plins and plons of a brassy music box.
Harley smiled sadly. "Yup. Mistah J and I are no more. But don't worry about revenge. I'm movin' on. A wise man once said: Living well is the best revenge." Dee Deed nodded, in awe of their mother's wisdom.
"...Course, that was seconds before I shot him because I wanted revenge. So, y'know, that might be a biased source. But still! I'm tryin' it, for now. Plus, eh, not sure there's much I can really do. Mistah J, er, Joker, is pretty much untouchable to the likes of little old Harley."
"No, no, say not these things!" "You underestimate yourself." "We shall travel northward, and destroy him." "Destroy this town with guns and fire-" "Make it regret drawing Quinn's ire."
Harley chuckled, pointing knowingly at Delia. "Aaahaha, the rhyming. I was wondering what 'appened to that. You guys just come up with those on the spot, or...?"
"In the mirror, we do practice." "Novices, we might be AT this." Dee Dee shrugged.
"Wow!" Harley was genuinely impressed. "I bet you guys creep the hell outta people with that. It's great!"
"It's true, we're known to inspire fear." "However, what is the true reason you've come here?"
"All business, huh? That's my girls. Well...I'm just gonna say it. Girls, I'm gettin' into the hero business." Harley was getting used to breaking the news to people. The skate park fell silent as everyone there stopped. Even the distant saxaphone cut themself off with a final discordant note.
In the quiet, Harley felt a shrill tingle of anger travel up and down her spine. "WHATTA YOU BUMS LOOKIN' AT!? GO LICK SOME PAVEMENT, YA FUTURE SKIDMARKS!" She yelled over her shoulder. The saxaphone and the skating quickly continued. Exhaling, she glanced back down at Dee Dee. The two of them were looking up at her, smugly.
"We knew it." They said in tandem. Harley nodded, rubbing the back of her neck. "Yeah, you're not the first person to tell me that."
"I'm relieved, though. Gotta admit. Do you think I can still come over to visit, even if I ain't a villain no more?" She asked, a little meekly.
"Visit?" "Visit?" "No, no, not at all." Harley's face dropped. The twins began to circle around her. "We understand your answer to the hero's call." "Over Gotham, we'll all stand tall." "Visit not, but stay at the Ragdoll Hall." "Always here, to catch you when you fall." They said, proudly. Harley's face lit up. Excitedly, she span rapidly.
"You- you really mean it!? You'll help me be a hero!? Why!? I thought you loved mayhem! It's all I ever taught you! I---" She cut herself off. Then she lowered her voice. "I really thought I mighta screwed you guys up." She chuckled apologetically.
"Mama," "Mommy," "Mother Dearest," The two tugged lightly at her ponytails. Harley jokingly slapped their hands away. "You taught us that you care about us." "That was the most important lesson." "There are many people in this world," "But you saw us for who we were, before anyone else." "You raised as," "Taught us to be brave," "And to be loud. To be..." "Ourselves." "For that,"
"For that..."
"We'll follow you anywhere." Deidre finished, her voice full of a rarely shown sincerity. Harley, at this point, was tearing up. She wiped her eyes and hid her face from the nearby skaters. "Oh my God...oh my God, I'm gonna cry. You really...you really mean that?" The two came to a stop infront of her.
"Of course, Mother Harley. We would never lie to you." "Unless it was funny." The two giggled, and Harley joined them.
"I...y'know, I..." Harley looked nervously at the nearby people. Lowering her voice so no one could hear. "I really...I really love you two." She admitted. Dee Dee smiled brightly.
"And we love you, as well." They responded. Dee Dee looked at her, and then scanned the environment. Their verdent eyes were full of life. "Though, perhaps one day, you may not be so afraid to admit it." They examined in unison. Harleen was taken aback. Before she could comment, they were onto the next subject.
"Heroes have many enemies on Gotham." "A new career will be difficult to blossam." Dee Dee observed.
"Who should we kill first?" Delia asked chirply.
"Well, hold your horses, girls. Mama Harley is gonna take care of some things, first. If you are really on board, I need you two to fix this place up. Round up some guys. Maybe see if you can convert any-a these layabouts into some real followers. I'm gonna have Coach wire you two some money for the project. After I get some. The Ragdoll Hall is gonna be my first place to gather. Thank you so much, sweethearts. I dunno what I'd do without ya." Harley explained, before hugging them again.
"Anything for you, Mama." "But surely, there is someone you want to kill first?"
"Yeah...Victor Zsasz." She whispered. "That guy fuckin' sucks, right?"
The twins nodded. "Preying on innocent young women..." "Were exactly his type." "Though no doubt, we'd destroy him in a fight." "We'd peel off his skin, if it took all night." "The gruesome murders of one Victor Zsasz." "And worst of all- he's boring- he lacks pizzazz." The two listed off their grivances of one of Gotham's most notorious serial killers.
Harley chuckled, nodding in agreement. "That's the spirit. Yeah, that guy blows. I think everyone'll sleep better if they see me murder him live on the internet." She concluded, her logic sound.
"Okay. Now, I'm off to plan my first big solo heist. You two keep doin' your own thing. I'm proud of you two, y'know! You've done great out of Mama's nest. You guys...really took flight. Couldn't be happier with how you turned out." She stood up straight and proud.
"By the way, is that new hair dye? It looks really bright. Very nice."
"Indeed, Mama Harley. It's a new shade of orange." "Soon you'll that...that we are...we...umm..." Deidre trailed off, staring intently at the ground. Delia joined her.
"Oh, uh, sorry 'bout that." She surpressed a giggle at Dee Dee's expense. Dee Dee blushed.
"Hey, don't worry about it! Comin' up with rhymes all the time is really hard. Okay, Dee Dee. I'll see ya around. Thank you so much!" She gathered them up into one last hug before. Then, she cartwheeled off the plateau. Zoomed up the ramp, hopped over the fence, and sped away in her care. Dee Dee smiled and waved weakly after her. Then, the two sat down.
"Perhaps, Dee Dee, we should re-dye our hair into something that isn't rhymeless."
"Or from now now, we just call our hair... red-yellow."
The girls nodded, wide-eyed at that. Then they began to play with each other's red-yellow hair, giggling. The strange sisters were satisfied for another evening. Deidre and Delia Dennis-Quinzel skated their problems away for another night. Meanwhile, their adopted mother, as always, plunged headfirst into trouble.
Level 3: 06/30 Location: Hawker's Alley Word Count: 839 Points Gained: 2 New EXP Balance--- Level 3: 08/30
Sakura enjoyed Junior's company. He seemed like a good kid. Kind of reminded her of her little brother. Well, if her little brother wanted to be some kind of supervillain. Sakura wondered if he really had done anything very evil. He didn't look like any of the evil people she knew. Even his dad, Bowser, seemed kind of nice. Compared to someone like M. Bison, who, though she met him only briefly, just gave her evil vibes. Sakura wasn't superstitious like her friend Kei. But if Kei saw Bison, she would say he had a malevolent aura. If that was real...she could definitely feel it.
(No way M. Bison would ever have a kid. Let alone a kid who actually seemed to love him! M. Bison probably kicks puppies in his spare time. That jerk. I'm glad I got to punch that guy in the face a couple times...and then saw him get blown up. Even though he just came back, later. Man, that was a really crazy Winter break.)
The Kasugano girl looked at the big pile of gold. It was a lot of money. More than she had ever seen in one place. For a moment, she wondered if Princess Peach would miss a couple coins. Maybe Mom wouldn't have to worry about the rent so much? The thought passed, and she felt guilty. It was the apocalypse. Peach was willing to spend all this money on their adventures, and saving the world. Including her mom. Stealing from her would be an immoral betrayal. Besides, back home, her fighting career was picking up. Once she started making money, no one would have to worry about that stuff anymore.
Cadet reappeared, and mentioned he was strong, too. He didn't look like a Street Fighter. Then again, many people told her the same thing. Also, he came from a different universe entirely. A medieval one, going from his clothes. "Okay, you're on! Hopefully we get some downtime on the way there!" She agreed, a pep appearing in her step at the thought of a new challenge. She giggled at Junior. She wasn't sure about Cadet, but she was definitely strong than Junior over there. So that one would be easy.
Sakura lugged the gold cart around. The weight wasn't the problem. Much like Cadet experienced with his weapons, it was the actual transportation of the objects that was the problem. Getting the cart and Junior's car through all the portals was very troublesome. It was all clanky and janky. Wobbly and bobbly. Sakura awkwardly followed Junior along with her cart of gold, biting her lower lip.
Eventually though, they were there. The girl gave a few withering stares at people who got too close to her cart. Then she exhaled, rolling her wrist. "Yeah! Where I come from, we wouldn't even need paper money. Peach could just use her debit card." Sakura said. She glanced at her two companions and wondered if they knew what that was.
"It's like, eto, a card? Where, you swipe it, and then, the machine knows how much money you have in your bank account. It's all digital. The numbers on the computer?" The last part of her explanation turned into a question. How did all that work? She never really thought about it that much.
"All the money is just, little numbers on a screen, which they reach and draw out from a computer. I think. But basically it means all the money weighs nothing, it's just a little card you have in your pocket. I had one, but I lost it. Then I got another one but it was stolen. Then my mom didn't want me to get another one until I learned to be more responsible. So when I got my job I- oh, hey, we're here!" Her utterly unhelpful "explanation" came to an end as she picked up the pace.
Now, she was listening to Kamek's plan. It sounded pretty good to her!
"Yes! We'll beat up opponents until we get stronger and stronger! There's no such thing as a shortcut when it comes to getting more powerful. You gotta put the work in, day after day! And when you lose, you learn your lesson, and..." Her enthusiasm faltered. She put a finger to her chin and looked at the ground. "Though, if we lose a battle in our ship, we'll all just die. So losing isn't really an option. Anooo..." She trailed off.
"Well," She giggled nervously. "That's what being a hero is all about, right? The training wheels are off." She concluded with less enthusiasm. A half-hearted smile on her face.
(I hope I do okay in a real fight. The last couple of times, I was with Ryu. He's not around, probably because he let me beat the tar out of him so I could save him. Can I be as brave if I'm not trying to save him?) Sakura thought to herself.
"Wha-" Chloe sat up straight, her mouth turning into an offended "O." She looked between Liliane and Till. Evidently she had not expected such a response. "Wha- well, hold on!" She adjusted in her chair. Then she pointed indignantly at Tupolev.
"That Russian speaks French! Thank you very much!" She exclaimed. Once again she adjusted in her seat.
"And- and, like I said, we're here to sort out this mess! Medical and conversation. Cons-conservation-" She laughed, flustered. Sharply inhaling she gathered herself. "Call it..." Her smile widened and she leaned forward, looking smug.
"Call it preventative medicine!" Yonaka seemed quite proud of herself for that one. "That's what we're here to do. Don't need to worry 'bout no doctor stuff when you just beat the shit outta the fuckers goin' around messin' with everythin'! We're Stand Users! We- we use Stands! It's in the name! Without us, alla you poor sods in this room would be over the barrel!" Her argument concluded she crossed her arms and sat back, seeming triumphant. She glanced back at the frenchwoman."So yeah. Speedwagon Foundation."
Brooke has dark skin, with black, curly hair, and rich brown eyes. Her hair is short on the left side, and longer on the right. She has full lips that smile, purse, and frown easily, and when parted, show her front right tooth is a little chipped. She has a slender, agile frame, the type of person that could do a standing backflip. (She can, by the way.)
She's always seen wearing a pair of thin-rimmed, large, circle-lens glasses.
When she isn't wearing her glasses, what will immediately become obvious is her lazy eye, or rather, amblyopia. Her right eye, when, not corrected by her lenses, drifts towards the center of her face, looking towards her nose. This is called esotropia. It limits her depth perception and in her opinion, makes her look very silly. So she likes to keep her glasses on.
Blood Type B-
Occupation Professional Hero
Side Hero
Affiliation HERO
Tier A
Personality Brooke Everette is a bubbly, easily excitable, high energy goofball of a woman. She wears her heart and her emotions on her sleeve. She is extremely passionate about philosophy, history, as well as nerdy garbage. When talking about something, she tends to raise her voice and gesticulate wildly. In social situations she can be easily flustered, and often stumbles over her own words and misspeaks. She isn't very self-aware, but she is just self-aware enough to be embarassed by the mistakes she makes.
Brooke is very empathetic to everyone around her, and this extends to her enemies as well. Needless to say, she cares a lot, about everyone, and everything. When she does something, she throws herself into it entirely. She can be surprisingly objective driven and can cut through the crap, after figuring out what it is and figuring out how to speak properly. Her feelings can be easily hurt by people she respects. In summary; she cares. A lot.
She is a dork for superheroes; simply put, a fangirl. She is totally into it. The costumes, the performance. Old school heroism, the kind that most consider sentimental and cheesy, is her favorite kind. Optimistic and kind, she wants to help others. She has zero tolerance for bullies and evil-doers. When an injustice occurs, she is right there to stop it, no matter who it is being done too. Despite appearance, she is by no means naive. Experience has taught her when to bring the hammer down. Literally, in some cases.
The heroic streak runs deeper than that, though. Brooke doesn't just worship heroes, she truly is one herself. She loves it. She lives for it. When in a high stakes situation, the bluster melts away. The corny one liners, the heroic poses, the act- it becomes real. Brooke performs poorly under pressure, until lives are on the line. Then, you could never ask for a better ally in a fight. She cares so deeply about this Silver Age guff it's becomes inspiring to others. Brooke doesn't change in a fight, but rather, things become clear, and she can become the person she wants to be. The greater the challenge, the greater Brooke can rise to meet it. Her resolve is remarkable. Perhaps it is some as of now inexplicable part of her power, but it seems that no matter how hard Victory gets hit, she always stands back to her feet. Probably with a genuine, honest to God battle cry. In the 21st Century. Most people just don't do it like Brooke anymore.
If there is one downside to all of this, is that she becomes antsy in peace time. She's always looking for something to do. Brooke becomes bored easily. She hates being bored. Absolute despises it. She has literally been bored to tears in the past. This alludes to a deeper problem of hers. Without a crusade to fight, a war to wage, souls to save, she becomes uncomfortable. She hasn't thought about it much. Were ever she to live to see a day where she could contribute no more, she may very well not know what to do with herself. What happens if she gets to the top of the tallest mountain? Is it wrong she hopes to never find out?
Fortunately in this broken world she fights to protect, there is no shortage of adventures to go on. Goals to be won. Milestones to be reached! Perserverance under pressure, resilience and resolve. She truly is a knight in shining armor. As long as nobody behind her in line looks at her disapprovingly while she's in a grocery store countirng change. She might have a panic attack. Or she shows someone a youtube video she thinks is hilarious and they don't laugh once. Then she'll die. But start shooting at her and she's good to go! Got it?
Backstory Born in the knotted streets of downtown Los Angeles, Brooke and her family made do among the "lower" rungs of society. Growing up poor wasn't easy, but she had three loving little brothers and two wonderful parents. From a young age, she learned the value of human connection. Her little brothes were also dorks, in their own different ways. In her teenager years she ended up in scraps often. The youngest two were easily picked on, the eldest brother always got himself into trouble by running his big mouth. Often she found herself having to stick up for them. Quickly, those at her school learned not to mess with the Everette family, lest they summon the wrath of Brooke Everette!
If only that were true. Usually Brooke got beat up, too. But she never stopped trying. Broken glasses meant her lazy eye was usually visible often. Eventually her brothers were inspired by her to stick up for themselves, or stop getting into trouble. Probably because they felt bad their older sister kept getting whooped on their behalf. Brooke didn't learn to fight, but she did learn to get hit. That toughness has stuck with her since then, despite her lithe frame.
Brooke may not have been a dork, but she was certainly a nerd. She would snatch up whatever comic books were available. She was fascinated by heroes who stuck up for the little guy. As a child she fantasied about having powers of her own. Posing dramatically in the mirror, coming up with her own superhero name, imagining what powers she would have. What she would do. What villains she could defeat (all of them) and what heroes she would team up with (the coolest ones). Naturally, her annoying brothers would tease her about this. Or just slobber all over her fake costumes because they were like, two at the time. This passion was contagious and exponential, as her father used his power to communicate with birds to interrupt an assault in progress. Nobody has time for mugging when they are getting pooped on and pecked at. From that day on, her biggest hero was always her dad. Her obsession only intesified, but her little brothers weren't teasing her anymore.
It was around this time that the oldest little brother got arrested for petty thievery. It was minor pick-pocketing, but the police saw fit to treat him unfairly. Apparently, he was upset that Brooke's glasses had broke in yet another fight he caused and wanted to pay her back. Thankfully, it worked out in the end, but this shook her of her previously childish view on crime, and the bullies she so often 'battled'. Maybe, she thought, there is a reason people do bad things. The thought only grew. The compassion she held towards the victims spread into a tentative pity for villains. Redemption was always better than retribution.
As she matured into middle school, she realised she probably wasn't going to get her own powers. Instead, she would focus on making changes in the community through policy. Perhaps she could help prevent crime from happening in the first place?
She discovered her powers when she was 17 and that went out the window. She wanted to kick some serious ass. She had matured, but she hadn't matured that much. One day, when explaining a particularly complicated comic, the light shining through the window began to dance with her flailing arms. That may have been one of the best moments of her life. Finally- her life long ambition- her childhood dream- could come true. Victory was at hand! All the costume designs and catchphrases and special moves- they could all be real! Everyone in the family was happy for her. Brooke was never one to conceal her emotions. But she was shining with joy throughout the summer vacation of her junior year of high school, and constantly practiced at her ability.
Grades were up, friends were up. Fights, too, were up. Brooke constantly overestimated herself and challenged people she really shouldn't have challenged. Indeed, in her righteous vigor, she may have escalated a few fights that perhaps could have been left at words. After almost going to juvie for a particularly foolish endeavor, she learned that violence wasn't always the answer. Words, too, carried weight. If only she could get them out without tripping over her own clumsy tongue.
When she turned 18, she realised that she had pretty much had a perfect childhood. At least in her mind. Sure, her right front tooth is always going to be a little smaller than her left front tooth, but that was small potatoes. She had a perfect family, in her view. Brooke was grateful.
The next obvious step was completing her college degree. Being as her mother would describe, a "smart cookie", she was able to transfer to a university after a two year stay in a community college. However the quaint and plucky community college (The Orange County Raiders, Go Team!) stole her heart and she ended up staying there instead. An entirely sentimental choice for an entirely sentimental young woman. Public Administration was her major. That way she could always fall back on making those changes she thought about earlier. If her hands got cut off or something. Anything could happen to a brave hero.
Now twenty two years old and the first woman to earn a bachelor's degree in her family, the choice was obvious. Brooke joined LATCH at 22, and her power and reputation has only grown in strength since then. There have been a few close calls, but Brooke has been having the time of her life. She's been looking into ways to prevent supervillains from existing in the first place, and has participated in charities aswell as political efforts. But mainly, just whooping butt. Her time as Victory on the Western Coast has been an absolute joy.
Brooke is an ideal superheroine for organizations like ICOSA, given her careful fighting nature and inspirational ability. She personally oversaw programs within LATCH to assist with the reformation of reoccuring villains, with limited success due to resistance to the idea. Out of necessity she mainly focused on reducing non-powered crime instead. Punitive measures, she believes, aren't the way to go.
Brooke is now a well respected superhero within LATCH, having served 6 years as a full time, professional hero. Her brothers have matured and gotten jobs, most of them having moved out of Los Angeles to seek opportunities elsewhere. Their parents couldn't be prouder. Eventually, Brooke herself felt an itch to seek greener pastures, if only for a little bit. She felt she had done all she could do in Los Angeles for now. So she signed up for a program that would allow her to be transferred to other super hero organizations. One of the ones she was most interested in was Castleburg. Mainly due to Coldwater prison, and VIPI, the protest group that seemed to have formed in direct defiance to atrocities happening within. So she set that as her highest priority place to explore and get to know. If there is some kind of highly abusive prison for convicted powered criminals, then that is the exact type of problem Brooke likes to solve.
She got her excuse when LATCH was contacted by ICOSA on HERO's behalf. Apparently, HERO had almost been subverted entirely by corrupt "heroes". They would need reinforcements and additional supervision. Just someone to help them get back on their feet...and make sure they didn't miss anything. It's not every day a super hero organization as a civil war. So, she packed her bags, waved goodbye-for-now to her family, and flew off to the East Coast.
Power: Hard Light
Brooke Everette has the ability to Harden light itsel, fortifying it into constructs of her desire. In order to do this, she must see the light, and there must be a light source nearby.
The simpler the construct, the faster she can summon. The easiest things are walls and rods, followed by domes and more complex shapes, and then finally, complicated "mechanical" constructs. The brighter the light source, the more power she can draw from it. There is an upper limit to it. Brooke suffers from weaker light sources more than she benefits from strong ones.
The Hard Light can be instilled with high durability, or be used for feats of strength. It can be damaged by powerful blows or many smaller strikes over time. If not disturbed, Brooke can repear the damage to her Hard Light constructs.
Brooke needs eye contact with a light source in order to create Hard Light. The simplest way to nullify her powers is to blind her. Her irises turn from brown to a glowing white when she was using her ability. Brooke uses her body to assist in the creation of her ability, as well as increase their strength. However, she can make them and control them with only her eyes. Once a construct is created, it will persist from a few seconds to ten minutes without her looking at it or "re-upping" it. Depending on how complicated. The less complicated, the longer it can last on it's own.
If Brooke creates too many things, they lose power. More complex constructs drain other constructs of their power more quickly. Most things take less than ten seconds to create. The process can be interrupted easily by enemy interference. It is easier to alter a Hard Light construct into another one than it is to create a new construct from scratch.
Hard Light Constructs
Starting at the easiest to do, towards the most complicated. Brooke also needs more light available the higher up they are.
The constructs can float on their own, and move on their own. They are semi-effective in this way. They are more effective when Brooke uses her hands and body in synchronized gestures. They are the most effective when being directly held by her.
The color and temperature of the light is dependant on what source/sources she draws it from. Complicated constructs become opaque, but simple structures are translucent. She cannot actually produce light on her own, only use what is around her.
Shield: The simplest, easiest thing for her to do. Clench a fist, and create a small heater shield. Can be created in extremely low light. At maximum power, this simple construct becomes almost invincible. A Victory staple. The very first ability she mastered as a kid. Almost always included in fan art.
Wall: Brooke points her palm upward, lowers her hand and then raises it quickly. She can create small walls as fast as she raises her hand. But the biggest one she can create takes a few seconds to materialize, and is 16 feet wide and 9 feet tall.
Push: Brooke pushes a previously created wall forward by pushing the air with her hands. If no wall is available, she can summon two cylinders, one next to each arm, and use those, instead.
Dome: Brooke raises her hands to the sky. A sixteen feet diamter, 9 foot tall protective dome appears.
Simple Shapes: Brooke manifests various simple shapes for utility purposes.
Melee Weapon: She enhances her own fighting ability by granting herself a melee weapon of almost any kind. They strike with more power than she can produce on her own, and can be larger than real weapons due to their being under Brooke's mental control.
Throwing Weapon: Much more powerful and accurate than regular throwing weapons. Guided by her mental power, these Throwing Weapons usually hit home, whatever form they take. Brooke likes using spears and knives.
Detonate: Brookes explodes her construct. The more complicated or powerful the constructs are, the longer they take to detonate, but the more powerful the explosion.
Numbing Strikes: Brooke reduces the effectiveness of her constructs, costing more energy and reducing the amount she can create. Her strikes do less damage. Now, they do temporary damage, instead numbing the effected areas. This allows her to finish off weakened enemies without risking permanent injury to their health. She could also use it to numb pain in general. Most effective with sharp weapons, allowing her to cut at the enemies throat. This causes the enemy to struggle to breathe and lose control over the rest of their bodies. They fall over and are easy to capture, then. She can also strike at fingers, hands, and legs, and simply cause them to go limp instead of falling off or bleeding everywhere. These attacks are worse in every way, but this purposeful limitation of her powers is one of her proudest innovations.
Armor: This one takes a large chunk of her Hard Light focus away from her. Brooke generates a suit of armor around herself that greatly protects herself from blows and greatly increases her physical strength. Her constructs become weaker as she focuses on this, and she can only create one at a time. Usually she summons a weapon. The design of the armor has changed over the years. Sometimes it's a badass motorcycle racer's suit. Most of the time, it's a suit of renaissance era knight armor. Moving it with her own body uses concentration. She also has to spend more energy to re-up it, considering she cannot see a vast majority of the armor when she is in it.
Bow: Brooke began experimenting with non-rigid constructs. The first thing she did was create herself a bow and arrow. It's much easier to use one of her own Bows, made of Hard Light, than it is to be a real archer with a real bow. Either way the fired arrows have good range, travel quickly, and hit hard.
Sling: A follow up to the Bow. Easier to create, Brooke spins this sucker around and then yeets something hard at her enemies. Less range and accuracy but makes up for it with being able to knock enemies around.
Crossbow: The heaviest hitting, most accurate one of all. Takes a few seconds to be created. Can be altered into less powerful, less accurate version that very quickly fires a volley spread of small bolts.
Bolas: Can be fired from the crossbow. Two heavy weights attatched by a heavy rope. Flung forward they wrap around the target, inhibiting them wherever they hit. Prime target is wrapping around the target's knees.
Bicycle/Motorcycle: Thats right. When in doubt, take a few seconds to make a high tech, durable bicycle. Take about ten seconds, and this can be changed into a motorcycle. Downgrade the effectiveness of the motorcycle and she can give herself a downgraded version of Armor, aswell. Bigger jumps, more stability, finer control, than a regular vehicle. If she gets off it, it vanishes almost immediately.
SUV: Like the Motorcycle, except it's an SUV. Takes about one minute to be created, and she can't do anything else while she's driving it.
Gun: Brooke creates a fucking gun. Takes a full minute. Can be of any kind, more effective and accurate than regular guns. Utilizes complex constructs and the detonation ability to fire her Hard Light at high speeds. She has never used this ability without utilizing Numbing Strikes as well.
Programmed Constructs: The most experimental of all. No successful prototypes yet. However Brooke is currently attempting to create Constructs that act without her direct influence. The dream is to summon more complicated constructs and then set them loose without having to directly concentrate on them. Her first major goal post is summong an Armor without her in it, and then programming it to battle her enemies for her. So far the best she has done is a ball that moves towards the back of her head, but only when she isn't looking. Currently called "Boo ball".
Martial Arts: Brooke is a trained mixed martial artist. She's not half bad.
Gymnast: Brooke is a gymnast. All there is to it, really.
Resolve: Something in Brooke's soul refuses to back down. The source of her powers is her very willpower. This determination has been abnormally bolstered and enhanced by her ability. A secondary, as of yet developing mutation that increases her perserverance. She is resistant to mind altering effects.
Weaknesses have been mentioned here and there, but now they will be gathered in one place. These are all the weaknesses she knows about, new ones may be revealed by clever enemies.
Darkness: Brooke struggles to manifest light in dark places. Many enemies assume this to mean she cannot operate at night, but usually the moonlight or lights of the city grant her enough to work with. However dark interiors like dense buildings, caves, or cramped closets can truly deprive her of power. If she can see light, she can use it.
Blacklight- Adding onto this, concentrated Black Light nullifies her powers entirely. It makes her feel dizzy and even faint. Safe to say she won't be going to any raves.
Line of Sight- She needs line of sight to generate constructs. A thick blindfold removes her powers- full stop.
Tunnel Vision- Everything she does requires deliberate focus, intention, and willpower. If she is distracted her powers may falter. On the other side of the coin when she is concentrating hard on her abilities she has little brain power for much else.
** OTHER- Fun fact: Left handed. Fun fact 2: loves fun facts.
Favorite music genres: Rock, Electric, Rap, Classical. Whacky crossover genres. Favorite animal: Dog. Allergies: Shrimp. Sexuality: Asexual.
Dareen prepared to get jumped on, but then blew air through her lips as the dog recoiled from Jandar's bad vibes. It seemed they had reached a dead end. No doubt it was much more difficult to follow a flying target when you're on the ground. Still, the Sceltie's message confirmed that they were following an 'in-air' trail. In other words, Fatima. For once in her life, she found herself hoping Jandar would let Dareen take the lead on this social interaction. Usually she left the talking to others, but, she was worried Jandar might frighten them. They were basically just two annoying kids. Even though Dareen had, unbeknownst to even herself, taken a small liking to the pair of underdogs.
"No no, it's fine. You were right- Fatima was kidnapped." Dareen explained, making a motion to everyone here not to panic. "Right now, we could use your help tracking her. There might be some bad guys. Do you think you can help us by following that trail as long as you can? If there's a fight, leave it to me and Jandar." As if discussing a contract, Dareen rattled off some terms and conditions. Quick, but calm. This was the type of pressure excelled under. Either way, the question was out there.
"We'd be thankful?" Dareen added with an optimistic shrug.
If they agreed, Dareen would nod, smirking warmly. "Alright. Let's get to it, boys." She would follow after the brave hound. She passed Jandar as they turned out of the dead end alley. As she did, she thudded him reassuringly on his shoulder with the palm of her hand.
Josk shifted her weight onto one leg, continually checking her datapad for signs of disturbances. She blew some air through her luscious lips and toyed with her luxurious locks of lavender hair, the loose strands that hung down from her ponytail. Josk realised that there was no way she could pass off as some random lady of the night, because she was just too damn good looking. In another life, she could have easily been on the front page of a tabloid. An underwear model or something. Too bad that shit was boring. But honestly, that looked pretty good right now, because she was bored. No flying, no shooting, just waiting. Waiting for some shape shifter to come crawling out of his hole.
Sighing and adjusting her sunglasses on her nose she shifted her weight onto her other leg.
A message came through from Raymond, causing the Satasi to perk up straighter. But it was just a standby message. So she slumped back down into her standard casual pose, to let everyone nearby know how over this she was.
"Sure thing, Captain." She responded. "...Be a lot easier if we just burn this whole place to the ground..." She mumbled. She didn't mean to broadcast that last part, and she hadn't realised she had. But the members of the Marauders were probably used to comments like that at this point. Considering the misfits, outcasts, and adventurers that made up the rest of the crew, it might be easy to forget that the Marauder was a suicide mission for unapologetic pirates like Yasaliah.
Pandora looked on, slightly bemused, as Blade had his little monologue. Oh, well. They had no way of knowing he was down here, anyway, and besides, they needed to be here. He showed them the evidence they needed to prove Patricia's innocence.
"Well, there we go. Easy as pie. You're innocent, Aria. We found the evidence before some dirty cop could destroy it. And besides, what's superhero work without a few felonies? Poor superhero work, that's what." Pandora joked, gesturing at the computer.
(Ugh. You're embarrassing yourself, Pandora. Stop trying to act like someone you aren't anymore.)
Pandora shook off the thought, though her mood dampered back to how it had been previously. She sealed up the tunnel behind them, leaving it just as it had been before she interfered with it. She followed the others out.
---
Pandora stepped right after Blade onto the boat. Going to the bow, she leaned over and ran her hands over the peeling paint. "She'll do. Seaworthy, at the least." She muttered under her breathe. Where her hand touched, the paint reformed and the boat regained it's long lost shine.
"I'm piloting." Pandora declared, shoving her way to the pilot's seat. Once she was there she took a moment to familiarize herself with the controls. Left hand on the wheel, right hand on a set of two red levers on the dashboard, she started the engine and moved the cruiser out of the dock. It was clear she knew what she was doing.
When they were in range of the turrets, Pandora frowned at their command. She began to turn the boat away from the island and sail away to get out of their range. "I can't come up with a plan to not get shredded by those guns. I mean, I know I could get safely to shore..." She added. Pandora paused, seeming to consider this. "You know what? That's a good plan. Somebody keep this boat moving. Just use those levers. I'm going to go take care of those turrets." Pandora chuckled. With that, she sank right through the floor of the boat and into the water. Like a human torpedo she swam underneath the ocean's surface. Her plan was to use her abilities to goopify the barrels of all the machine guns. Guns were fragile things- if she damaged the barrel of a machinegun even the slightest bit, the whole thing would come apart. Stationed turrets would be easy money. Not wanting to engage for two long, one by one she briefly emerged her hand out of the ground to grip the base of the turrets. Her influence would travel up at the legs and to the barrel, where she would subtly bend it out of shape. Hopefully none of them noticed what was happening. If they did, hopefully they didn't realise she was subtly damaging the guns. If they did, well...she would figure it out. This was her plan, for now.
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