MISC: The Deck

mrnelson007 at gmail.com mrnelson007 at gmail.com
Fri Mar 1 20:07:29 PST 2013


Hey guys. So I've been toying with a couple of other ideas here. I can't write Lydia forever after all.  ...actually maybe I could, but sometimes even the most dedicated of us have to mix it up, right?  So this is an idea that I had been toying with for a while, and then, at the request of a friend, I started to write up this sort of sample. I think there's potential for a universe here, and I'll probably explore it more as I have time, though Lydia is still my primary focus.  Anyway, let me know what you all think.  For now, enjoy what I have tentatively named The Deck.




"Next."

Frank Green, or "Sharpshooter", as he was known...  Well, no.  He was just Frank Green right now.  But he was hoping to be Sharpshooter soon enough.  At any rate, he sat up in his chair.  He glanced down at the slip of paper in his hand, then up at the display on the far wall. "Now serving: 17."<i>Finally!  Sheesh, I feel like I've been waiting for hours.</i>  He came to his feet, walking up to the counter.

An older woman sat on the other side of the counter.  She was wearing a conservative grey blouse, and a pair of glasses hung from the chain on her neck.  Her hair was starting to grey, and any love she may have had for her job had long since vanished onto the shores of time.  Calling the look she gave him one of a lack of interest was criminally understating its true scope.  That look was where enthusiasm went to die, and her tone of voice finished off any stragglers.  "Can I help you?"

Frank was determined not to let it get to him. He came here for a reason, and unenthusiastic government employees were not going to keep him from that objective.  "Yes, hi." He said, giving her his best smile. "I'm looking to found a new supergroup."

The woman - her name was Ruth, apparently - sized him up, clearly unimpressed by his heroic presence.  He'd have to work on that.  "...of course you are." She finally said, reaching under her desk to retrieve the proper form. "Well, let's get this over with.  Group name?" She lifted her glasses up onto her nose, looking at him over the rims with disdain.

"Engineering Marvels, ma'am.  Because we're all engineers, right?" He smiled a little at his own joke, although that faded fast after her complete lack of reaction.

She filled in the appropriate line on HOUSE Form 3-A1 with the same gusto that she carried through all other parts of her job before looking back up at him. "How wonderful for you.  What region?"

"Just the city, ma'am."

"Mhm.  Members?"

"Well, I have the charter member signatures here." He said, pulling out a few pieces of paper.

"They'll have to come in and get their IDs and verify."

"Yes, yes, I know all that. We'll come back around next week for that."  He sighed, rolling his eyes. Blasted Agency paperwork.  It took a good solid month before you could even start wearing your mask by the time all the checkmarks got put in the right boxes.  "So do you want their names now or what?"

"Just the leadership positions today sir."

"Great, let's see here. Okay, first off.  Me, I'll be the Captain.  Sharpshooter." He slid his Agency ID card across to her, blushing just a bit.

"A Joker for a leader?" That actually got a reaction out of her, her brow ticking up slightly before she resumed her normal disinterested composure. 

"Lady, just fill out the papers so I can go home." Frank sighed, shaking his head and grumbling under his breath. "I put up the money, I get to be in charge."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Mhm." She nodded slowly, looking back up at him.  She said nothing, but it was clear that she was amused.  "Next."

"Yeah, for second in command we've got..." He paused, flipping through the cards until he found the one he was looking for and handed it over.  "Ah, yes.  Inferno."

"Hm.  A 7?  ...and she's fine with being number 2?"  Ruth commented, then just shrugged and resumed filling out the paperwork.  

Still, on some small level, Frank couldn't help but feel proud. He had actually flapped the unflappable, and for that, if nothing else, the day was a success.  "Just fill out the form, okay?" His voice was annoyed, but inside he was definitely smiling.  Job well done.

"Now there's just a matter of the rest of the roster, and your processing fee."

"Of course." He nodded, sliding across the other 4 IDs, and then pulling out his checkbook.  His hands were shaking a little as he grabbed the pen.  It was hard to keep calm about this. He was going to be a superhero, damn it.  A real, honest-to-god superhero.  With his own group.  It was like a dream come true. Who cares if he didn't have any actual powers?  Neither did Hawkeye, and he went on to be at least <i>mildly</i> successful!  If he played his cards right, Sharpshooter could be the best Joker that had ever

As he finished writing the check, it was impossible to keep from smiling.  Soon he would be able to show everyone that not having powers didn't mean he couldn't keep up with the  other Cards.

*****************************

Parker looked up at the building, nodding his head.  Yeah, this was the place.  The old warehouse, abandoned and run-down.  Time to get to work.

He walked up to the door, giving a knock. A pause, and then another.  Then three short ones.  The lookout latch slid open, and a woman spoke. "Password?"

"Blackjack."

The latch closed, and then the lock clicked.  The girl pulled the door open fully, standing there and looking at him. She was petite and blonde, just a bit shorter than average.  He recognized her immediately, but silence was the order of the day for the moment.

"Hi, I'm-"

"Quiet." She interrupted him, pointing over to the wall.  "Hands out, palms flat against the wall.  Now."  Clearly, she was all business.

Parker sighed but complied, turning and facing the wall.  He felt her hands on his sides, patting up and down.  "Hey, I didn't know this was that kind of party."

"Shut up." Her hands worked down his T-shirt, then down to the jeans.  She patted at the pockets, then paused. "What are these?" She asked as she reached in to retrieve the contents.

"My keys, what does it look like?" He sighed again. "Can I move now?"

"Yeah, you're fine. Want a smoke?"

"Nah, no thanks." He shook his head as he turned from the wall to face her again.

"Suit yourself." The blonde grinned, snapping her fingers. Her thumb ignited, and she lifted it up to the cigarette.  Once lit, she took a long drag before nodding. "Alright, next up." She reached into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out a device Parker instantly recognized.  Everyone could recognize a detector when they saw it in this day and age.

Flipping it on, she started to run it over him.  "Hmm... pretty minimal. A deuce, huh?"

"Yeah, that's me.  Not a lot of help, I know, but-"

"Hey, now, come on." She patted her shoulder, smiling.  "We're not here to judge. Everyone can help in their own way.  Hell, we'd get rid of the classes all together if it didn't just give a decent place to start."

"Really? Thanks. That's reassuring."  Parker gave her a smile. "So what's your name, anyway?"

"Ah, no names. Well, no 'legal' names." She made quotes in the air as she said it, rolling her eyes. "Besides, most of us here would rather just have the names they picked, anyway."

"Ah, right, right. So what's your-"

"Inferno."

"Oh!  Wow, really? You look different without the costume. I thought you were with one of those local groups though."

"What, the Engineering Marvels?  Please. I am so tired of Sharpshooter.  He's a moron, and he's going to get us all killed one of these days.  But beyond that?   I want to help people, but I'm tired of dealing with the House breathing down my neck the whole time. I'm almost an 8, and I shouldn't have to deal with them wanting to know what I'm up to twenty-four hours a day just because of that.  You know?"

"Not really. I mean, they barely give a deuce a second look, just check the ID and that's it."

"Yeah. Sometimes I think you guys are the lucky ones." She took another drag before pointing down the hall. "Meeting's in there.  We're about ready to start."

Parker gave a nod and walked down the hall to the main part of the warehouse.  The main warehouse doors were closed, and some Sword had clearly reinforced it.  There wouldn't be any interruptions coming from the ground, unless they wanted to fight their way past Inferno.  Crates had been pushed to the sides to make room for the crowd, which made Parker frown.  Hopefully the crates hadn't been searched.  Just as importantly, he hoped they hadn't gotten jostled too badly in the move.  <i>They'd better show up soon.  If these guys damaged the emitters I might be fucked.</i>

A couple of small groups were chatting, and he tried to pick up what he could of their conversations.

"Yeah, I had to sneak out, my parents are totally not cool with this.  They're ashamed to even have a Shark in the family, I think..."

"So I just found out my sister is a Deuce. She kept it from us this whole time. I don't get it. We should be embracing this."

"Hey, I've been practicing, check this out." A man dressed like a typical frat member lifted his hands, and Parker felt his keys tugging against the inside of his pocket while his watch started to lift off his wrist.

"Oh, a radius effect? Nice." His friend patted him on the back as Parker shoved his hand in his pocket before the keys could finish their escape attempt.

He stepped up to the edge of the small crowd just as a young man floated up and landed on the catwalk, around ten feet in the air.  He was probably in high school or just starting college, from the look of him.  Either way, he was definitely the leader.  That much was clear. <i>Hmm... someone that young might be involved, but in charge? He's probably at least an 8 in that case...</i>

"My fellow Sharks.  We have been dealt our hands from the Deck of life.  And now, just because our cards are different than most, we find ourselves watched.  Monitored.  The world looks up at us with envy, and because of this envy, they have built their House to watch over us.  To restrict us.  I ask you, why should we be ashamed of who we are?"

Parker reached into his pocket, putting his hand on the keyring.  With the crowd looking up at the speaker, it was easy to do without drawing attention.  He pulled one of them out, bringing it up to his lips.

"We should never be ashamed.  We should embrace our differences, and the rest of the world should do the same!  What gives them the right to regulate us?  Do you need a special ID to carry a gun?  No!  So why do you need an ID just for being born differently?  Are we such a threat that we need-"

Parker found himself zoning out of the speech as he glanced at his watch. <i>They should be here  any minute... Get your asses moving guy-</i>  Suddenly he snapped back to reality. <i>Oh shit.</i>  His alarm was going off.  He scanned the crowd, and suddenly the leader was looking right at him.

"It's a Dealer!"

<i>Fuck, he's a Mind!</i> The crowd was already turning around and moving toward him.  Parker whirled around and started running. He dived behind a crate as lightning crackled past his ear.

He ripped the keys out of his pocket, his thumb on the remote key.  <i>Okay, let's see. Lock, lock, unlock, alarm, unlock, lock...</i>

The remote beeped, and he let out a sigh of relief. The shouts from the other side of the crate indicated the suppression field was working as designed. <i>Good, they never found them.  Thank god for R&D...</i>

The shattering of glass overhead was a welcome sound, the sound of reinforcements arriving.  By the time the leader had turned around, he had a gun pointed directly at him.  The rest of the agents stepped up to the edge of the catwalk, pointing their guns down at the crowd below. "Nobody move! This is a raid!"


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