[The camera begins pointed at a monitor showing news coverage of the arrest of Micha Piper and the Novas who helped break up his NYC operation. The video pauses and pulls back to show three men, one in a suit, one in a lab coat and one in a leather jacket and sunglasses.]
Suit#1: Mr. Blackmore, you don't much like being in the public eye, do you?
John Blackmore: What do you think, man? Of course I like ot keep to myself.
Suit#1: But don't you ever think that you could do more good by being a more public figure?
Blackmore: What more could I by being hounded by paprazzi all the time?
Suit#1: Well, Novas like The Fireman and Ceastus Pax use the media to great advantage. To show the public that they's nothing to fear from them.
Blackmore: Is that true? That there's nothing to fear? When was the last time you were in the field? When was the last time someone tried to kill you? There's plenty to fear--and not just from Novas. We've got plenty to be scared of too.
Suit#1: Ah, that's right, you ran in to a little trouble during the Piper incident the other day, didn't you?
Blackmore: I'd rather not talk about that.
LabCoat#1: John, I know that it makes you uncomfortable to lose control like you did. But it wasn't your faut. We've discovered that there are some very powerful Novas out there that can manipulate all but the most fortified minds.
Blackmore: [Laughs] You think that's what it is? That I'm upset that someone got into my head and almost made me turn against the rest of the team? Sure, that's a bit disconcerting, but I'll get over that. It's just one of the challenges of this brave new world, man. Something else to keep an eye out for next time.
LabCoat#1: So what is it that you don't want to talk about?
Blackmore: I don't know, man. Maybe it's the fact that something that big and nasty was going on in my city and I didn't know about it. Maybe it's that while good guys like The Fireman are out there in the spotlight, there's still people--normal people and Novas--who are still dying in the streets. Just like always. With all this power we have, why can't we stop that?
Suit#1: Yes, all this power... that's something else we need to discuss, Mr. Blackmore. Our records indicate you have been making judicious use of the traning facilities here.
Blackmore: Yeah. What's it to you? I know this is a members only club, but I'm a member, right?
LabCoat#1: Yes... but your training has been unsupervised and that is highly unrecommended. Based on a review of the last session you ran...
Blackmore: You have a recording of my training sessions?
Suit#1: Of course we do. You signed a waiver when you joined our little family. It was clearly stated in there that these premises were under full srveillance 24/7. [He turns to the man in the lab coat.] Show him.
[The paused picture of Blackmore ducking news crews fades from the screen and is replaced by a high angle shot of a Project Utopia training room. There are various doorways, walls and walkways, creating almost a maze. Panels along the wall open to release training drones, both ground based and airborne.]
[Blackmore begins walking through the room. He is immediately attacked by four drones, two humanoid and two airborne. He makes short work of them, reducing them to smoking junk with little more than one quick jab each.]
[Another swarm attacks. Half of them are immediately thrown across the room with just a jesture from Blackmore. The others strike, but do little more than slightly slow him down. The screen goes black for a moment before the picture returns in black and white as the training room lights go out and the camera switches to IR illumination. Blackmore doesn't miss a beat. The second swarm ends up as slag.]
[Instead of more drones, the next wave are low-level, but well trained, Novas. Six of them. Two of them never even have a chance to lay a hand on Blackmore before they find themselves on the ground, held there by an invisible force. The other four attack and are alternately dodged and thrown with a combination of Aikido and telekenetic parries.]
[Within minutes, Blackmore has reached the opposite end of the room, ending the training exercise. He isn't even breathing heavy. His sunglasses aren't even crooked.]
Blackmore: [Smiling] Yeah. I should have turned the difficulty up a bit. Maybe gotten an Elite in there. But there weren't any on the schedule at that hour.
Suit#1: Mr. Blackmore, have you been taking the Adrenacillin we prescribed? You do realize that you run a serious risk--to yourself and others--if you use your powers too much in such a reckless fashion.
LabCoat#1: That's not to say, John, that your progress hasn't been impressive.
Blackmore: [Looks back and forth between the two men] Y'know what, man? I don't have to put up with this crap. I came here voluntarily. It's been fun and all, but, I think it's time for me to go. [He stands up and begins to head for the door.]
Suit#1: Mr. Blackmore, you can't just leave like that. [He gets up and reaches for Blackmore's arm. Before he has a chance to grab hold, he's violently pushed back into his chair.]
Blackmore: Really? You going to stop me? [Neither of the other men answer or make a move.] That's what I thought. You'll get my official membership cancellation tomorrow. I'm outta here.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
Disillusionment (A Reconstructed Scene from the Life of John Blackmore)
12 April, 2008
John sat with Rese watching the coverage of Tracer's funeral on the big screen TV.
"Man, can you believe that shit?" Rese asked. "Look at all those people. This is some wild turn in history, right? A high-profile Nova like her getting ganked... what's this world coming to?"
John tipped back his Corona, waited for the last drop to slide past the lime, and set the bottle heavily on the end table. "I don't know man. I just don't know."
"But you knew her, right? She was one of the Hestia people you did that trip to Bhutan with, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah she was."
"Well why aren't you down there in DC payin' your respects?"
John turnd to his old friend, his milky glowing eyes unable to register the confusion and sadness he felt and opened his mouth to say something.
That's when all hell broke loose on the TV.
As Caestus Pax brings the crows back under control, the news anchors lasiviously barking commentary over replays of the violence everyone had just seen moments before, John turns to Rese and says, "Because of crap like that, man. Because of crap like that."
Then he goes to get another beer, opening it without touching the cap.
After a long draught, he leans back in the chair and rubs his eyes. "Rese, why is it we do things like that? I mean, ain't it enough that a good person's dead? Why do we have to make it into such a spectacle. The other Novas aren't much better than everyone else when it comes to that.
"I look at so many of them, with their fancy powers and flashy costumes. Y'know what the most prevalent Nova power seems to be, man? Ego. So many of them have egos bigger than any deed they do. The XWF dudes, I can understand that. They're entertainers, that's part of the business. But people like Pax, like bunches of the Team Tomorrow members--and even some of the Hestia operatives I've dealt with... they're look like they're in this for the wrong reasons. They're in it to show off, to show how great they are, how much better they are.
"But they're not any better. Not as people. Sure, some are... Tracer was... some want to actually help for the sake of helping. But they're overshadowed by the big egos. Christ, don't we ever learn? Don't we know that it's going to be some big ego maniac that's going to destroy this whole thing..."
"What whole thing, man?"
John waved his arms around, his agitated energy making glasses rattle in the kitchen and the pictures quiver a little on the walls. "This! Everything! We're going to destroy it all and... and... we're going to think what we're doing is for the best. It's just... I... I don't know."
Both men were quiet for a long while.
After another hour of watching funeral coverage and retrospective clips, John got up, grabbed his jacket and put on his sunglasses. "I'm going out for a walk. I'll see you later."
And with that, he walked out into the night.
John sat with Rese watching the coverage of Tracer's funeral on the big screen TV.
"Man, can you believe that shit?" Rese asked. "Look at all those people. This is some wild turn in history, right? A high-profile Nova like her getting ganked... what's this world coming to?"
John tipped back his Corona, waited for the last drop to slide past the lime, and set the bottle heavily on the end table. "I don't know man. I just don't know."
"But you knew her, right? She was one of the Hestia people you did that trip to Bhutan with, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah she was."
"Well why aren't you down there in DC payin' your respects?"
John turnd to his old friend, his milky glowing eyes unable to register the confusion and sadness he felt and opened his mouth to say something.
That's when all hell broke loose on the TV.
As Caestus Pax brings the crows back under control, the news anchors lasiviously barking commentary over replays of the violence everyone had just seen moments before, John turns to Rese and says, "Because of crap like that, man. Because of crap like that."
Then he goes to get another beer, opening it without touching the cap.
After a long draught, he leans back in the chair and rubs his eyes. "Rese, why is it we do things like that? I mean, ain't it enough that a good person's dead? Why do we have to make it into such a spectacle. The other Novas aren't much better than everyone else when it comes to that.
"I look at so many of them, with their fancy powers and flashy costumes. Y'know what the most prevalent Nova power seems to be, man? Ego. So many of them have egos bigger than any deed they do. The XWF dudes, I can understand that. They're entertainers, that's part of the business. But people like Pax, like bunches of the Team Tomorrow members--and even some of the Hestia operatives I've dealt with... they're look like they're in this for the wrong reasons. They're in it to show off, to show how great they are, how much better they are.
"But they're not any better. Not as people. Sure, some are... Tracer was... some want to actually help for the sake of helping. But they're overshadowed by the big egos. Christ, don't we ever learn? Don't we know that it's going to be some big ego maniac that's going to destroy this whole thing..."
"What whole thing, man?"
John waved his arms around, his agitated energy making glasses rattle in the kitchen and the pictures quiver a little on the walls. "This! Everything! We're going to destroy it all and... and... we're going to think what we're doing is for the best. It's just... I... I don't know."
Both men were quiet for a long while.
After another hour of watching funeral coverage and retrospective clips, John got up, grabbed his jacket and put on his sunglasses. "I'm going out for a walk. I'll see you later."
And with that, he walked out into the night.
From the Personal Journal of John Blackmore - January 30, 2008
I can now say that I've been around the world and there ain't nowhere like good old New York.
Signing on with Hestia wasn't something I would have ever done--just like I never would've joind the Peace Corps--if it weren't for my extenuating circumstances. It wasn't all bad, but it's not something I'd like to do on a regular basis. That sort of high-powered international intrigue isn't at all what I'm interested in.
Some good people in Hestia, though. That's reassuring with all the other stuff that goes on in the world.
Best thing is, even with the travel getting in the way of what passes for my normal life, the gig paid pretty well.
So well that I think I'm set for a while... and so is Rese.
But those plans are still kind of in the works.
For now, I'm just going to go and enjoy some free time, maybe go a couple rounds in the training center with someone who's actually a challenge. None of the dudes at the Y stand a chance these days.
Signing on with Hestia wasn't something I would have ever done--just like I never would've joind the Peace Corps--if it weren't for my extenuating circumstances. It wasn't all bad, but it's not something I'd like to do on a regular basis. That sort of high-powered international intrigue isn't at all what I'm interested in.
Some good people in Hestia, though. That's reassuring with all the other stuff that goes on in the world.
Best thing is, even with the travel getting in the way of what passes for my normal life, the gig paid pretty well.
So well that I think I'm set for a while... and so is Rese.
But those plans are still kind of in the works.
For now, I'm just going to go and enjoy some free time, maybe go a couple rounds in the training center with someone who's actually a challenge. None of the dudes at the Y stand a chance these days.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Six Weeks Ago...
Video excerpt from a Project Utopia entrance interview with Johnathan Blackmore:
[Blackmore is a lean, but well-built white male in his mid-20s. His hair is a little shaggy, but not long and relatively clean. He wears an unbuttoned work shirt over a white t-shirt and jeans. Even though he's inside, he is wearing a pair of dark sunglasses.]
My mother was a whore and a junkie. My father was one of a dozen or so men that had her the week I was conceived. She left me with a "friend" of hers when I was eight. That was the last I saw of her.
I grew up on the streets and back alleys of New York and I'm lucky to have made it. That was back before Utopia and novas cleaned the place up a bit. Not that the back alleys are that much better now. I was more or less on my own for a few years... some petty theft to keep fed, a little B&E for a place to sleep at night. Nothing too bad, y'know. I saw too many people get hurt trying to hurt others early on. I didn't want to go out like that.
I almost did. Thyrese saved my teen-aged ass from a serious beat-down one night. He threw those 'bangers around like they were nothin'--didn't even break a sweat! He took me in to the Y and helped me clean myself up. Then he taught me some of those sweet Aikido moves he had used. Rese volunteered at the Y and pulled some strings to get me a gig on the custodial staff, so I could get some real money to live on and maybe get an actual education.
It worked. Got my GED by the time I was 20. Rese taught me how to protect myself and how to teach myself. I owe that man my life.
I even had the chance to make good on that debt.
It was about six months ago when some real bad characters busted in to the back office at the Y. Caught Rese completely off guard. I don't know what they thought they were going to find there--it ain't like we're a fuckin' bank keeping money around. But they busted in and got the jump on him.
By the time I made it back there, he was unconscious and bleeding on the floor and these five dudes in ski masks and gang colors were ransacking the place. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I attacked them. I mean, damn, I was outnumbered six to one and they had already beaten Rese within an inch of his life--and he was a lot better at brawlin' than I was. But I managed to take down two of them before the third one cracked my upside the head with a pipe or something.
Man, it was like fireworks going off inside my head. Didn't help any that I had been having migranes on and off for a few weeks. That crack to the skull just piled right on to the one I'd been nursing all day. I went down hard onto the floor and rolled over just in time to see the dude hauling back to put my lights out permanently. He brought it down again and got me right in the gut. Now my head and my body were throbbing.
I begged him to stop... to just take what he wanted and leave. The bastard laughed at me and took another swing. Caught me in the shoulder. Hurt like seven kinds of hell. That's when I realized neither me or Rese were getting out of that office alive.
And that's when it happened. The room was dimly lit but then, even through the pain, everything looked brighter and crisp. Then the pain faded and I could concentrate again. The next time he swung that pipe at me, I caught it and threw him across the room. I was pissed.
The other two tried to jump me. I managed to dodge one of 'em but the other landed what I thought was a pretty solid punch. Except I didn't actually feel it. It kind of bounced off the air in front of my face. I think I was as surprised as he was. Then his look of surprise turned to fear. I didn't know why until after it was all over. It was because of these...
[Blackmore takes off the glasses, revealing a pair of softly glowing white pools of churning energy where his eyes should be.]
Yeah, I totally freaked when I first saw them, too.
[He puts the sunglasses back on.]
So that dude just takes off running, leaving his buddies behind.
As I'm watching him go, the one with the pipe tries to land one on me from behind, but it bounces off. I spin around and yell at him to just stop--and this is where it gets really weird--and he's, like, paralyzed for a little while. Dude can't move at all. And he's got this odd texture on him, like he's wrapped in plastic or something.
So I just heave his ass out the door.
I didn't even have to sneer at the last guy. He took off running all on his own.
I got Rese to the clinic and after he was better and didn't need me to help him anymore, he said I should probably come and see you guys. Said that you could help me. That maybe I could help you.
**End of Clip**
[Blackmore is a lean, but well-built white male in his mid-20s. His hair is a little shaggy, but not long and relatively clean. He wears an unbuttoned work shirt over a white t-shirt and jeans. Even though he's inside, he is wearing a pair of dark sunglasses.]
My mother was a whore and a junkie. My father was one of a dozen or so men that had her the week I was conceived. She left me with a "friend" of hers when I was eight. That was the last I saw of her.
I grew up on the streets and back alleys of New York and I'm lucky to have made it. That was back before Utopia and novas cleaned the place up a bit. Not that the back alleys are that much better now. I was more or less on my own for a few years... some petty theft to keep fed, a little B&E for a place to sleep at night. Nothing too bad, y'know. I saw too many people get hurt trying to hurt others early on. I didn't want to go out like that.
I almost did. Thyrese saved my teen-aged ass from a serious beat-down one night. He threw those 'bangers around like they were nothin'--didn't even break a sweat! He took me in to the Y and helped me clean myself up. Then he taught me some of those sweet Aikido moves he had used. Rese volunteered at the Y and pulled some strings to get me a gig on the custodial staff, so I could get some real money to live on and maybe get an actual education.
It worked. Got my GED by the time I was 20. Rese taught me how to protect myself and how to teach myself. I owe that man my life.
I even had the chance to make good on that debt.
It was about six months ago when some real bad characters busted in to the back office at the Y. Caught Rese completely off guard. I don't know what they thought they were going to find there--it ain't like we're a fuckin' bank keeping money around. But they busted in and got the jump on him.
By the time I made it back there, he was unconscious and bleeding on the floor and these five dudes in ski masks and gang colors were ransacking the place. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I attacked them. I mean, damn, I was outnumbered six to one and they had already beaten Rese within an inch of his life--and he was a lot better at brawlin' than I was. But I managed to take down two of them before the third one cracked my upside the head with a pipe or something.
Man, it was like fireworks going off inside my head. Didn't help any that I had been having migranes on and off for a few weeks. That crack to the skull just piled right on to the one I'd been nursing all day. I went down hard onto the floor and rolled over just in time to see the dude hauling back to put my lights out permanently. He brought it down again and got me right in the gut. Now my head and my body were throbbing.
I begged him to stop... to just take what he wanted and leave. The bastard laughed at me and took another swing. Caught me in the shoulder. Hurt like seven kinds of hell. That's when I realized neither me or Rese were getting out of that office alive.
And that's when it happened. The room was dimly lit but then, even through the pain, everything looked brighter and crisp. Then the pain faded and I could concentrate again. The next time he swung that pipe at me, I caught it and threw him across the room. I was pissed.
The other two tried to jump me. I managed to dodge one of 'em but the other landed what I thought was a pretty solid punch. Except I didn't actually feel it. It kind of bounced off the air in front of my face. I think I was as surprised as he was. Then his look of surprise turned to fear. I didn't know why until after it was all over. It was because of these...
[Blackmore takes off the glasses, revealing a pair of softly glowing white pools of churning energy where his eyes should be.]
Yeah, I totally freaked when I first saw them, too.
[He puts the sunglasses back on.]
So that dude just takes off running, leaving his buddies behind.
As I'm watching him go, the one with the pipe tries to land one on me from behind, but it bounces off. I spin around and yell at him to just stop--and this is where it gets really weird--and he's, like, paralyzed for a little while. Dude can't move at all. And he's got this odd texture on him, like he's wrapped in plastic or something.
So I just heave his ass out the door.
I didn't even have to sneer at the last guy. He took off running all on his own.
I got Rese to the clinic and after he was better and didn't need me to help him anymore, he said I should probably come and see you guys. Said that you could help me. That maybe I could help you.
**End of Clip**
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