The Legacy of Eros - Dark Son Ch. 02

"Oh ... sorry about that. Please continue, my Brother," from Bumpkinhead.

"Dude, tans don't count," Kwanzer grumped.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Can we get back to robbing these plebeians before some superhero group falls down upon us ... again?" Dark Saint interrupted.

"The White Man won't let me speak. I'm being oppressed here." Ya see, Dark Saint was a White guy while Kwanzer was a POC (Person of Color).

"Oh, for Pete's sake," Resurrecting Bunny griped as he moved into the crowd. "Put your wallets and your jewelry in the sacks. Put your wallets and your jewelry in the sacks."

"My Brother," Kwanzer berated RB (they were both 'Black' men), "this goes beyond a simple monetary reward. We have to plant the seeds of future revolution. The DAY is almost upon us when the Oppressor Capitalist class will fall and a new homogenous Working Class will rise up to do away with the slavery caused by White Culture and White Male Domination."

"Vive la révolution!" Killer Valentine emoted.

"greeLænge leve revolutionen!" came from Christi Claws.

"Fuck all of you," muttered RB, "I'm here for the payday ... and to get out of here alive."

No sooner had he said those words than someone attempted to stop Christi from taking a necklace. A bout of shoving erupted. To calm things down, Killer Valentine shot off some rounds into the ceiling. Unfortunately, she shot out the supports for a massive crystal chandelier ... which came crashing down to earth. Seeing two older folks about to be crushed, Resurrecting Bunny rushed over and pushed them out of the way, saving the old couple, only to be crushed himself.

Seconds later, a Black man in a brown bunny suit appeared next to the downed chandelier.

"Mother-fucker," the Resurrecting Bunny rubbed his head ... the one with the brown & white bunny ears on it. "Watch what you're shooting at!"

"Well man, you dissed the revolution," Kwanzer said as a way of explaining things.

"Can any of you stay focused for more than fifteen damn seconds!" hissed Dark Saint, rumored to be the sole competent member of this crew.

"greeLænge leve revolutionen?" Christi Claws repeated with less conviction.

"Ja, vi kommer til den forbandede revolution, men vi er nødt til at få nogle penge først. Har du det?" Dark Saint told her ... what ... I had no idea.

[English: "Yes, we will get to the damn revolution, but we need to get some money first. Got that?"]

"Can we get back to robbing these people - please?" Lunatic Faster begged his compatriots.

"I think we need to establish the ground work for the revolution here, people," Kwanzer sulked. "Ya know. Be more than reactionary bandits acting like some baseless terror squad."

"Yeah - we should listen to Kwanzer," Bumpkinhead insisted.

"I don't need your White Guilt messing up the movement at this juncture, Marcus," Kwanzer disrespected his sole supporter.

"Whoops! Sorry about that - carry on," Bumpkinhead nodded.

"I don't need your permission to carry on, Old Man," Kwanzer puffed himself up.

"You're right. Everyone else - Listen to Kwanzer!" Bumpkinhead shouted.

"That's more like it," Kwanzer mumbled. "As I was saying ..."

"Killer Valentine just KILLED me," Resurrecting Bunny griped. "Shouldn't we address that?"

"Ah ... you threw yourself under the chandelier," Kwanzer noted.

"De quoi la stupide crotte brune se plaint-elle cette fois?" killer Valentine inquired.

[English: "What is the stupid brown turd complaining about this time?"]

"What did she call me?" RB demanded to know.

"She called you a 'stupid brown turd'," Dark Saint translated.

"Fuck that bitch," he bitched then went searching for his original body under the glass and iron. Right as he found his gun, "Here it is ..." Killer Valentine shot him again ... killing him.

Three seconds later he resurrected himself ... sort of. A grown Black man in a brown bunny suit appeared roughly three feet away from where he had just died.

"Mother-fucker. Bitch, I'm going to ..." he got out before she murdered him again, all the while snickering evilly.

Three more dead man-bunnies later ...

"Come on guys," Kwanzer whined. "Can't get back to what I have to say?"

"When the psycho stops to reload, take her out," Ms. Franklin told me.

"Fine," I griped. "What will you be doing?"

"I'll be dropping Lunatic Faster then Christi Claws over there."

"Whatever - don't get killed." I was still unsure if I wanted to kill this bitch myself.

"Ha," she scoffed.

I started walking through the crowd Killer Valentine's way. I was right on her before she realized I wasn't acting cowed like the rest of the mundane masses.

Our eyes met. I punched and she blocked as she pivoted and took a half step back. She dropped her assault weapon, quick-drew a pistol, shoved it into my abdomen and fired three times. I hurt, but not overly much. My hand came down on her gun hand and pushed the pistol down between both of our legs.

Killer Valentine flexed and was about to put me into a hip toss when I growled to her.

"Abandonner!" I demanded. [English: Give up!]

She staggered, momentarily sane then regained her regularly scheduled 'facilities'. Apparently she had hyper-stupidity to go along with her power suite.

"Je ne pense pas," she glared. [English: I don't think so]

Mutual head-butts followed, but my head was much, much harder. She was going to regret shrugging off my offer when she regained consciousness. My second head-butt sent her off to La-La Land, at which point I let her drop while keeping custody of the pistol. No sense letting it go off when it hit the polished marble floor.

By that time, Lunatic Faster ... was falling down from the ceiling. Christi Claws lashed out at Ms. Franklin who parried with her arm. Normally Christi's talons could dispatch anything short of tank armor, so Boniface coming off with only a few light scratches was beyond impressive. Ms. Franklin's uppercut sent her flying head over heels toward the stage.

In the same instance, Skye aka Angelheart snuck up on the Resurrecting Bunny, put her palms to his temples from behind and he dropped like a puppet with his strings cut - fast and efficient. The Festival of Crime was down four of its nine members in under six seconds.

"Oh shit! I'm too important to go to jail," Kwanzer squalled, turned and fled.

"Looks like the jig is up," Festivus snickered as he too made a run for it.

Bumpkinhead merely looked terribly surprised for a moment, then teleported away in a flurry of confetti made up of torn, colored newsprint.

Ronin the Atoner, quiet up until now, confronted Ms. Franklin.

"Oh, you are not as tough as you ..." he got out before Terry brought down a chair on the back of his head, taking him down.

Boniface raced passed the falling body of Ronin and grappled with Festivus. As she did so, I could (with the help of my glasses) see the spirit leave the possessed man's body. That was two escaped / escaping and six down.

Dark Saint didn't wait for an invitation to surrender. He grabbed Ms. Dresser and raced for a window. I sprinted after him, as did Angelheart. Ms. Franklin was still figuring out she was grappled with a man who had no idea what was going on. Dark Saint threw himself through the window first - his tuxedo could take being cut by the glass far better than Louise's scant outfit. How considerate of him.

As they were propelled into the night sky, the villain pushed away from Ms. Dresser so the dilemma developed on who we would go after first. I really wanted to leave Louise to Angelheart except I realized I was tantalizing seconds ahead of my heroine ... who might not get to Louise in time. Fuck it! I had to drop the pistol so I could concentrate on the mission at hand.

I telekinetically pushed myself to catch up with Ms. Dresser, wrapped her up in my arms and then slowed our decent before taking the sidewalk three floors below on my back and shoulder, protecting my feminine bundle's far more vulnerable flesh.

"OH God! Oh God! Oh God!" she babbled, her arms wrapped around my neck and squeezing tight.

"We are okay now," I advised her as I pulled her arms apart enough for me to see if I could spot Dark Saint, or Angelheart, anywhere. Damn it! Dark Saint had made his getaway because I could see Angelheart hovering over 'us' instead of pursuing him.

"I've got her," I stated. "Did you see where the other guy went to?"

"No ... I wasn't sure if you would be okay," Angelheart knew I was a bit pissed off. She scanned about as well, but came up with nothing. Rumors abounded about Dark Saint's past. It was suggested he was some Super-Secret Spy type, disavowed by his home nation and now on his own. Why he hung out with these other jokers made no sense whatsoever.

What did matter was he had made his getaway and I had some explaining to do.

"Are you okay ... Mister ... Haven is it?" Angelheart went into damage control mode. The spiel which suggested she didn't know me and I didn't know her.

"Yeah," I sat up with Ms. Dresser still blubbering in my lap.

"Hey," she sniffled, "how are we both okay?"

"My tuxedo is bullet- and crash-resistant," I lied. Then I looked at my stomach and, sure enough, I hadn't been penetrated by the smaller caliber rounds from Killer Valentine's pistol. Had I been normal, my diaphragm would have been hurting like hell though.

"Oh ... really?"

"There is more to me than meets the eye," I helped us both stand. At the same time I looked up to the window we'd fallen from and people were leaning out. Some began applauding me - my bravery and good catch.

"We are just fine," Louise shouted up. "Reynard saved me!"

"You did good, Reynard," Angelheart floated down and put her hand upon my shoulder.

"The bad guy still got away," I complained.

"You went after the damsel first," she smiled.

"I didn't want to show the whole world I flew," I whispered to her. "Don't think I did it for any other reason."

"Oh, okay," she purred, happy that I was turning out to not be such a bad guy after all.

"Let's get back inside," I suggested ... so in we went. Ms. Dresser kept a tight hold on me especially when the interviews began.

"That was a steep fall," one journalist pointed out.

"I took jujutsu, which teaches you how to take a fall," I lied somewhat. I had taken jujutsu among other martial arts, but I wasn't aware of any of them allowing you to take a fall of that height without taking any damage.

"Still, that was a lucky catch," a different journo stated.

"If you say so," I shrugged. "I think it had more to do with Ms. Dresser pulling free than any other factor. She broke free of the other guy, which allowed me to get my arms around her."

"His big strong arms," Louise looked my way then kissed me ... on the cheek.

"You're welcome, Ms. Dresser," I tried to deflect the attention.

"You can call me Louise," she allowed.

"You are welcome, Louise," I smirked.

"Weren't you shot?" a different journalist - this one a female photographer - mused.

"My suite is bulletproof," I disclosed. Then, "have we met before?" She was a slender, tall East Asian lady who had a very familiar body type.

"I don't think so, Mr. Haven," she smiled. "I'm Suzi Park currently with the Megalopolis Metropolitan and I think you are a real hero."

Something about that smile ... so I pinged her with my eye glasses ... Suzi was Arachne! Holy Shit! With the huge uptick in crime, this could explain why she hadn't gotten around to calling me yet.

"I'm not the story here," I evaded. "Someone tried to murder Louise. I think that makes a much more interesting lead."

"Oh God, I was so scared," Louise stepped into the limelight hungrily. "I was thinking this might be the last time I got to address my fans ... and I didn't have my phone out to capture any of the excitement!"

I stepped back into the press of bodies behind me. A second step was followed by a third as I disentangled myself from this mess when a hand fell on my shoulder from behind.

"You did well, Reynard Haven," Boniface Franklin congratulated me.

"You were busy going after the main guy and Angelheart was a breath behind me so ..."

"So, you saved the life of someone I think you don't even like," she grinned.

"The real heroes were busy," I reiterated, "so it fell to me to do something."

"That is what makes someone a real hero," she skewered my sense of self.

"Had I known it would be this confusing for you, I'd have let her drop," I glared.

"Liar."

"Don't test me on this again. Besides, what did you find out by grabbing their ringleader?"

"Nothing. Festivus escaped before I could trap the spirit in the body."

"You can do that?"

"With a device I carry with me," she clarified. "I know someone who does really well with supplying me and other heroes with useful gadgets like it."

"And all of that is legal tech?"

"Yes."

"Isn't it legal because you tell the Powers That Be it's legal?"

"Yes."

"And the stuff I have is illegal solely because I don't have their ear?"

"Do you have any illegal tech on you?" she purred.

"No and I'm not submitting to a search either," I frowned. "Now, where were we? Oh yeah - you insinuated you know precisely who murdered my Mother. Care to enlighten me?"

"Not at this juncture. I'm afraid you won't be able to handle the news in an adult manner ... so I'm going to string you along instead," she teased ... about something which was clearly so very important to me.

"I should be going," I tried to pull away.

"Aren't you forgetting? I paid for you for another hour and a half," she reminded me of the stupid reason I was even at this event. An hour and a half suddenly felt like an eternity.

[END OF CHAPTER TWO]

Megalopolis Professional Sports Teams

Megalopolis Champions ~ Men's Football

"Archons ~ Men's Baseball

"Pioneers ~ Men's Hockey

" Magicians ~ Men's Basketball

"Witchfire ~ Women's Basketball

"Majors ~ Men's Soccer

"Stars ~ Women's Soccer

The Other Nine Contestants

Kyle Rodney, Quarterback for the Megalopolis Champion's NFL team;

Barry 'the Brush' Bushnell, Point Guard for the Megalopolis Magicians NBA franchise; and ...

India Figueroa, Central Midfielder for our women's National Soccer League team.

Aaron Quartermaine and Julie Feldman were both young, up-and-coming lawyers,

Inez Neustadt was a young, female police detective and represented our fair city,

Donna Pierre was a hotshot female Hedge Fund guru,

Liao Ping was a double-barrel threat - civil engineer and architect at one of the city's most prestigious firms, and ...

Louise Dresser was a fashion model turned multi-millionaire entrepreneur thus one smart cookie (our definite ringer).

[8] The Night Crew ~ currently working for criminal kingpin Romeo Dusk

Brain Bane ~ a flying telepathic telekinetic with a huge ego and much of the power to back it up. Love to exult in the 'reality' all other powers are merely weakened versions of telepathy and telekinetics.

Backlash ~ female mistress of the whip / sash used as a weapon. Uses her sashes to bind and beat her opponents.

Berserk ~ the team's toughest hand to hand expert. Once he goes berserk he becomes immune to pain and mind controlling effects. One tough brawler.

Frenzy ~ the female 'twin' of Berserk, or a 'Berserk' in training.

Hammer Storm ~ an augmented 'normie' who utilizes a variety of hammers in his attacks including his trademark twin sledgehammers in 'hand-to-hand' combat.

Psy Lord ~ a lesser version of Brain Bane with a greater emphasis on telepathic abilities. Able to create area effecting mental illusions.

Sinister Syd ~ a metahuman capable of breathing forth, or spitting, a variety of toxins ... which makes him less than popular with the ladies.

Sonic Scythe ~ a metahuman who sends forth sonic death from her fingertips capable of severing steel I-beams.

[9] The Festival of Crime:

Festivus (an ancient spirit who possesses a random partier) ~ creates an inebriation field (the "Glow Cloud"), among other things. Mainly seems to exist to f**k with the minds of the rest of the team. Speaks most languages known to man, but refuses to admit it.

Kwanzer (aka Fredrick Keith Holiday, or just F.K. Holiday) ~ his powers? Nothing known. Mostly this male POC stands about, brooding, when he isn't criticizing what others are attempting to do in the real world, or on Twatter. Speaks English and claims to understand multiple African languages no one else seems to have ever heard of.

Christi Claws (aka Kristi Clausen) ~ she's a gorgeous, lesbian psycho-wench with razor-sharp claws and a terribly short temper. What more do you need to know? Speaks Danish and French.

Lunatic Faster (aka Mustafa Ali) ~ he runs really fast, but can only eat, or drink, after sundown so he gets tired rather quickly. Thinks both women on the team are hot for his body when, in fact, they want to kill him. Speaks English and Arabic.

The Resurrecting Bunny (aka Lagomorph Garvey) ~ a rather normal POC who spontaneously resurrects himself in a brown bunny suit. While he has no useful (aka legal) talents - he is actually a burglar - he also has no flaws and everyone seems to like him ... even as they kill him ... as he dies a WHOLE LOT. Claims to know "please don't kill me" in 147 languages.

Killer Valentine (aka Valentina Kalashnikov) ~ the OTHER hot killer chick on the team. She uses weapons to make people dead and doesn't know the meaning of collateral damage ... or anything else in English as she is also an illegal immigrant ... who only speaks Russian and French.

Ronin the Atoner (aka Akira Greenbaum) ~ the team's diversity hire as he is both bi-racial and bi-sexual. His powers revolve around making people feel bad about things they have done, or thought about doing. It is suspected he is channeling the spirit of his dead Jewish Grandmother (who isn't actually dead yet ... but hey ...). Speaks English, Japanese and Yiddish.

Bumpkinhead (aka Wade Marcus) ~ a once awesome super-type from an alternate dimension, his powers are to rant, bully and threaten those who gainsay him and any other MARGINALIZED person on HIS team ... even though he isn't acknowledged as team leader ... because he 'presents' as an Old White Guy. Claims to speak dozens of Eurasian languages ... but can't be bothered to translate for anyone at the moment.

&

Dark Saint (aka Allen St. Day) ~ a rather competent spy cursed by a powerful demon to be on this team. He daily contemplates ending his own existence despite the eternity in Hell which will result. Speaks fifteen different languages fluently, but most often refuses to translate for anyone on the team because he hopes a miscommunication will result in the team's eventual violent and bloody demise and thus his freedom.

[END]