Rebirth

Intro

Mecromancer

It was dark. none of the suns rays had touched the contents of the room in years, mold creeped from the molding on the walls. Glimmering lights made little difference in the oppressive darkness, illuminating only the rotting remains of meals past and mountains of empty soda containers. The air swirled in wet and warm winds, creating a sweltering oven. A figure stirred from within a pile of filthy fabrics and empty containers, causing an avalanche as long fingers reached out grasping for another bottle. Instead, the questing fingers found the waiting keys of a computer, and screens blazed to life. The room filled itself with light, fans accelerated to match the new levels of heat, further spreading the reeking scent of unwashed bodies, alcohol, rotting food, and self loathing. The images on the screens stared out at the paralyzed individual, condemning him for his failures in years past, some frozen on the last moments of his partner, others endlessly replaying the circumstances of her death, still others replaying the fight they’d had just before she’d gone out without her communications, and the final one taunting him with the likelihood of her survival if he hadn’t existed.

He’d watched his sister die, not just die, but be raped to death as he was powerless to help her. He’d not left his room since, or even his bed, his paraplegia worsened by long inactivity. He’d tried to kill himself, but then his creations wouldn’t let him harm himself, at least not to that degree. His sister had insisted on being a hero, to follow in the footsteps of their parents, and had died for it. He despised the weaklings that preached justice, and stabbed others in the back at the first opportunity.

A tank tread-ed robot wheeled itself into the room, delivering another meal and yet more alcohol to it’s bedridden master. The housekeeping robots had long since fallen into disrepair, overwhelmed by the total slob that ruled them. He’d operated under the code name Machine-Miester once, a hero to support his sister, Ice Queen. An alarm sounded, minimizing the scenes of defilement and death, replaced by videos of his lair taken by the perimeter security systems. The shapes of armed men slunk across weathered and oil stained concrete beneath the burned out lights, and the very functional multi-spectral cameras that provided the real security.

He servaded the scenes, analysis programs quickly plucking information about the intruders from the databases, though less than they could have before their access was terminated over the years. The intruders were a group claiming to fight for justice, calling themselves the Robbin Hoods. a group of gangsters and political activists that claimed it wasn’t right for anyone else to have more nice things than others(mostly themselves). But they still managed to claim to be heroes, and the local public supported them. He commanded his security systems to dispose of them, ordering them to keep only the leader alive, and simply eliminate the rest. He was done playing with the kiddie gloves on. Then his systems bleated out a match, they’d compromised the crude security of the enemies and found one of his sisters attackers was a member, but sadly not one that was present.

Within the pitch black factory building that covered his lair, sentries pulled themselves from charging alcoves with whisper quiet motors on soft rubber wheels, millimeter radar systems seeking out the targets as the production systems moved from their positions to clear paths for the guards. High intensity lights surged to life, blinding the attackers while not affecting the defenders in the slightest, as the leader was snatched up in the crushing grip of a gantry crane mounted robot. The others died before they found out their mistake in a lethal cross fire, blood pooling like so much oil on the heavily stained floors.

Sprayers activated, washing the blood down the drains before it could congeal. Robots plucked the cooling corpses from the ground, transferring them to freezers according to the latest command of their long inactive master.

The boy pushed himself into a sitting position, panting with exertion at the unaccustomed activity. His ever loyal companion pulled him into it’s embrace, enfolding his weak muscles and malfunctioning body in steel and chrome. He took his first steps in years, his gait halting and slow, but full of purpose once more. Bottles shattered underfoot, fragments tinkles off screens leaving glittering in the light. The elevator lifted him to the factory floor, bathing polished steel and glimmering chrome in light once more, but trails of rust snaked across the surface of the steel where chemicals had eaten through the protective chrome over time.

She breathed a sigh of relief, she’d thought she was dead meat when the thing grabbed her in the darkness, lifting her with crushing strength, forcing the air from her lungs such that she couldn’t even warn her squad. Not that it would have mattered with how many bullets they’d taken in the very next moment. But an old school hero, Machine-Miester had shown up, he’d been one of the better ones before he and his partner disappeared suddenly. She’d figured the tin can had malfunctioned and killed her, since word on the street was that he was a robot or something.

“Done glitching out scrap for brains? Get me down and give me your stuff and I’ll call it even, those murder bots are just what the doctor ordered for our revolution.” She knew that he’d never done well under pressure, and was a doormat to his partner. “What’s wrong, missing frigid bitch? What did you kill her, you overgrown roomba?“The grip around her torso tightened, bones breaking with the sound of splintering wood and agonized screams.

His head hurt, the lights burned his eyes, his breathing was labored as his disused muscles protested his sudden reversal of course in drinking himself to death. His suit, while far less strained than him, leaked thin red trails of hydraulic fluid from old seals and sweating lines. His anger had burned away any trace of mercy, his need for vengeance eating his humanity. And then this bitch had the nerve to demand that he surrender his creations, his lifeline, to her and release her, after she’d come to steal from him? “I do believe your freedom is rather out of the question, I’m not in a rather forgiving mood. You came to steal from me, and if you’d caught me while you held an advantage, I have no illusions that you wouldn’t have killed me. That said, I still have use for you, you have someone to introduce me to after all, and it just wouldn’t do to have to cover up the smell of you decaying.“The saccharine sweetness in the words clashed horribly with the amplified rasping of his dry throat, almost inhuman in sound, and even more so with the menace contained in the words themselves.

The dead factory trickled to life, heat treating ovens gently warming, motors spinning up to speed as hydraulic fluids filled accumulators, tanks bulged as air pressure returned in force. A sharp bang interrupted the growing medley of sounds, a rodent had found it’s way into some power system or another, and shorted out one of the phases, two thirds of the lights winked out in an instant as the other phases were cut off to protect the equipment. Arms drooped before the brake caught them, stopping their fall towards the floor. Billowing smoke erupted from a cabinet full of capacitors meant to easy the strain on the power systems, flames licking overhead cables with grace.

“Can’t even turn the lights on without shit blowing up, can you. Huh scrap heap?” Her biting indictment interrupted by the wet coughs of a punctured lungs, blood trailing down her chin. Another voice chimed in, brimming with hope and cheer. “I see you’ve finally come out of your funk, brother dearest. So unlike you to stay still for so long, you’ve always been so full of energy.” His sisters voice, something that had haunted his dreams for the long years haunted his waking hell now. “I watched you die, screaming. You can’t be real. It’s not possible.” Even his whispers came out at full volume, amplified by his suit to compensate for his loss of voice.

“I did die, but you know better than anyone else the systems you built to keep me safe. Your system to combat memory loss and brain damage let me live again. I’ve been waiting for you, I couldn’t reach to where you were, I’m stuck in the mech you sent to get my body. Besides, by the time I woke up after that, you’d disappeared into your room and never came out. It wasn’t your fault, I left my communicator behind, I turned off my HUD, I shut down the mechs. I was angry at how you also protected me, I wanted my little brother that clutched at my sleeve back. I wanted to prove I could be a hero without your help. Instead, I died and nearly destroyed you. I’m so sorry.”

“Just hang around, I’ve got so things to do before I finish with you. Don’t worry, the medical system will patch you up enough you don’t drown in your own blood before I can get to you.” He activated the programming dais on the factory floor with a beckoning gesture, displays and keyboards unfolded from hatches on the floor, while other arms lifted him into the center as his armor unfolded and connected itself to the factory systems.

“You crazy bastards know the fucking building’s still on fire right? I’d really rather not die in a fire, I hear that’s the worst way to go, and what with how high you have me, I’d probably be roasted alive rather than dying quickly. You let me burn to death and if you live, I am haunting your asses.”

He quickly instructed a combat unit to extinguish the fire, using the water cannons that had been designed to provide his sister plenty of fodder for her ice powers, and started the maintenance units on routing around the failed capacitor bank, simply disconnecting it from the power system and accepting the energy cost of doing so. The retrieval mech stood within it’s bay, spot lights returning to life as the power system reset, restrained by scaffolding anchoring it in place and umbilical cables that linked it to the power grid of the factory, as well as the data recording system and the dispatch system, though it only had limited connectivity to those systems, being designed simply to rescue one of them if they should fall. The main system interface emerged from behind the heavy armor, laser transceivers glittering as they tested for the cable that soon slid home, driven by another robot. He pulled the activity map from the processing systems within, noting how much of the data on the system was in cold storage.

He commanded the systems to begin dumping the information to his suit systems and the main computer, along with snapshotting the processor activity and restoring it to the secondary computer in his suit. He heard a phantom gasp as his sister came alive within his suit. “Oh my, I thought I’d never have the pleasure of having you inside me brother, you made me wait so long then did it without even asking.” He flushed, embarrassed at how his sister teased him again. But his grin was irrepressible, having wished for her teasing for years. He shuddered, images of the torture his sister had gone through running through his head, soundless cries that haunted his dreams with her blaming him, only to be banished by the feeling of her arms wrapping around him.

He worked to make sure she was going to remain stable, examining data flows with the program, working through the massive stacks of data scanning for alterations or viruses. He’d been hasty with pulling his sister into his suit before doing these checks, but he’d been unwilling to leave her at arms length even a moment longer. Regardless of risk. He’d toyed with a program to view memories before, but the recording resolution required to make a visible memory was destructive to the brain. The emergency system didn’t care, it engaged it’s last resort programming. So most of the memories could be view, especially since his sister had filling in the missing portions when she revisited them.

It was her, it really was. She’d thrown crude blocks around her only memories of her death, unable to delete them from the data-store in the recovery mech. He couldn’t really blame her, he’d block them out if he could. He also found her tampering with her personality, rebuilding the blocks as he moved past them to examine them. She was trying to keep herself from being affected by her death, and trying to block out her rather un-sisterly feelings. He flushed with further embarrassment and withdrew, though the blocks would pull her mind apart in the long run, it straining at cross purposes.

“Done prying at my deepest darkest secrets bro? Anything else you want to embarrass me with? Perhaps watch the baby videos on the big screen? Rifle through my drawers?” The playful tone was mixed with a heavy portion of anger, and a touch of choked embarrassment. He’d never have figured out her emotions before, but now his systems cheated for him.

“Hey, fuck face, stop fucking ignoring me! I’m going to kill your ass and feed you to my dogs! You hear me, you’re dead. Dead.” The “guest” was once again wracked with bloody coughs, though scorpion like robots had staunched the internal bleeding and started to drain her lungs, as well as infusing oxygenated blood substitute into her veins. He’d finally had enough, and so had his sister. They had the robots gag her, vacuuming blood from her lungs and repairing them, while filling them with oxygenated fluid. She tried to vomit as her body rejected the scorpions tails snaking down her throat.

He began to reprogram a surgical suite he’d built to cure his paraplegia, meshing the neural interfaces even tighter, adding more processing power, further reinforcing the motive systems, and most importantly, adding a remote control system. His sister was nervous about what he was doing, but not willing to argue with his decision after what had happened the last time. He finished the alterations, queuing the deceased bodies and then if they passed the function checks, their “guest” for the operation suite. He did make sure to omit anesthetic from the operation procedure, since it might lower the synchronization.

He stepped down from the programming dais, his armor closing around him once more, arms gently lowering him to the ground with barely a sound. He moved out onto a balcony overlooking the harbor. Mammoth ships drifted across the choppy water, avoid the ruined hulk of Dr. Destruction’s Destructionator. He’d always thought it was a damn fool thing to build, far to large to be practical, Just a giant target. But it was a symbol, he’d brought it down himself, though Mr. Amazing claimed the credit, as he’d dented the chest plate and pulled out an optical sensor just as his robots had scramed the fusion reactor. But Mr. Amazing had insisted that it should serve as a reminder of the triumph of good over evil, never mind it had blocked several piers from being able to access the bay, or that it added miles to the distance ships had to travel, or that it was going to cause environmental issue for decades to come. Well, he had plans for it.

He could see the glimmering lights, buildings that broke the clouds, the night concealed the rot in the city, in the fabric of society. His HUD traced out the lines of moldering buildings, collapsing tenements full of vagrants, the dark streets where true evil reigned. And in the center of it all, the Hall of Heroes. A gleaming white spire, reaching up to the moon. It’s spotlights drowning out the stars, the moon clearly visible with the symbol of Mr. Amazing standing out from the white surface in crimson.

As he turned to move inside, the lighthouse he’d placed on the hulk illuminated his reflection on glass panes of the factory. It was grim, lines of rust, streaks of hydraulic fluid, splashes of blood. The filters over the optical sensors glowed with reflected light, almost red in the night. The motile surface of nano machines was dead, hanging from the frame in limp strips where old damage had loosened them from the structure. He looked like a zombie from some old horror movie cast in metal. His unhinged laughter echoed through the harbor, carried on the winds and distorted by the noise to something inhuman.

He already was making cyber zombies, why shouldn’t he change his name to something more fitting. It wasn’t like he cared what the traitors thought of him. He’d show them the error of their ways. He finally understood all the super-villains he’d faced in the past. He’d had the highest success rate, often managing to convince them to set aside their weapons and surrender peacefully. Looking back, he realized that it was because they saw themselves in him, someone on the edge of loosing the only thing they cared about. He sent a signal, one he’d thought he’d never use. It disabled the restraint systems he’d built to contain the most dangerous super-villains, he’d meant for it to only be used on the eve of the apocalypse. Now, it was the appetizer for the things to come.

“Micheal, what are you doing. You’ve set the stage for mass breakouts of super-villains. I can kind of understand what you’re doing with the intruders, but this isn’t like you. I mean you always made really sure they wouldn’t break out.” He reached out and demolished the blocks around her changes in personality, ripping any her false sympathy for the animals that had killed her. “I’m getting justice. These animals take and take and take. Nothing ever satisfies them, they never stick their necks out for anyone else. Always applauding the loud noisy people claiming glory that doesn’t belong to them. They cheered when that buffoon carved his mark on the moon in the color of fresh blood. They drag everyone down to their level with rules and laws meant to rob the gifted of the fruits of their labors. I mean to make them see.”

His sister was reeling from the impact of having her mental modification striped away, and the monologue he’d unleashed. Honestly, monologues feel good, it doesn’t matter how horribly they would work out if they were ever uttered in the vicinity of a person with a single ounce of sense. He hated the world. It may be equal on it’s face, but it was far from fair. The world supported itself by chaining the strong with guilt, demolishing ambition with diminishing returns, and indoctrination about it being the purpose of the strong to care for the weak.

He’d come to a revelation, the strong had a duty to protect the weak from challenges beyond them, not to coddle them until what little strength they had atrophied to nothing. In return, the weak tried to pull themselves to the level of the strong, to stand amongst them as equals and to bear the burdens that they could shoulder. Strength didn’t have a reward of it’s own, but the results of your efforts should never be stolen by others. This was where he differed from the other villain, instead of putting himself at the top of the mad system that ruled the world, he was simply going to overturn it. He would force the world to remember the time that work had garnered reward, rather than apathy. The struggle to move forward, to evolve and progress rather than being carried toward the finish line by others made slaves by the teachings of society.

It wasn’t a society with it’s great evils on the surface, instead they festered beneath an Utopian facade. The streets glowed in the night, monorails threaded their way though cities and farm that stretch for miles. Officially, no ideas or speech were banned. Unofficially, the very idea that the dead-weight be encouraged to contribute was dismissed as non sense, no arguments could be lodged. No, it was not a place with slavery, at least not with whips and chains. The only things they used to keep the people in line was guilt. Guilt drove workers producing medicines to collapse, guilt haunted the dreams of engineers tossing and turning in their beds as they dreamed of things beyond earth, guilt devoured the hands of farm hands laboring to unjam harvesters. Guilt had driven him to the wall, and he had been delivered from it’s clutches. His sister had been killed by it, guilt driving her to become stronger after their parents had died to save her.

But the strength guilt had given her had robbed her of something essential. It had taken understanding, replaced it with insecurity. It had taken her ability to ask for help, to rely on the strength of others. It had taken her dreams, left only night terrors in it’s wake. No matter now, he’d tear down the world that caused it, and teach the survivors the need to rely on others. He’d instill the power understanding, of asking for help because you aren’t strong enough, without the pathetic demands that the strong shoulder the whole burden. He would teach them to love the night once more, to look to the stars they’d forgotten and dream. He would destroy the world, and from it’s ashes birth a new one.

He strode into the busy warehouse with purpose, watching as parts were forged from raw materials to take forms never before seen. He could see a vat filling with tiny machines designed only to replace bone with something far stronger, coils winding up synthetic muscles by the meter, glittering chains of artificial nerves writhing in the air. He finally decided to see what had become of his sister, to pay his respects to the her that had died that day and not come back.

Her body was encased in ice, glittering like a diamond. It was cold enough to have filled the entire recovery day with jagged spikes of ice, hissing streams of liquid air poured from facets of it’s surface. He checked the logs, it had only gotten colder since she’d died. The amount of heat being sucked from the area increased at an ever greater pace. According to his calculations, no material could actually conduct heat as fast as the ice that wrapped her. The ice was made to glitter so brilliantly by the fact that it robbed light passing through it of a substantial fraction of it’s energy, the center of it was as dark as a black hole.

But somehow, the cold in the room made him feel warm. The frozen spikes and hissing streams avoided him as he moved through the room. The frigid air wrapped him in a warm embrace, easing the fever in his mind and body. He pressed a single hand to the crystal in at the center, leaving a hand print in the frost that gathered around it. In time the crystal would cause issues, but until he had too he wouldn’t move it. He could probably place it into an insulated vault, as the abnormal thermal conductivity extended only to the ice, not the steel of the retrieval mech.

He collapsed into bed once more, but this time he swept the detritus from it before releasing himself from his suit. He was crippled once more, his sense shrunk to merely human, weak limbs struggling to heave his skeleton like body into bed. His suit carefully set him into bed, tucking him in with the gentleness his sister had always shone, and a warmth on her touch that had always been his alone.

Ice Queen

I was cold, so very cold. From the day I’d been born, I’d never felt cold. But the chill was spreading through my body, stealing the last measures of my strength. I bet a newborn kitten could beat me up right now. So much for being the top super heroine, so much for being able to protect Mike. Why’d I have to throw a fit when he took a hit from Mistress Menace for me, why did I have to be so stubborn to be a hero, I should have known he’d never leave me.

The alarms volume surprised me, not from how loud they were, but how quiet they sounded. I knew they should match the noise of a police siren, but I struggled to hear them anymore. I couldn’t feel the concrete beneath me, or even the steaming blood pouring from my body. The world was growing darker, lights dimming across the skyline. I think it might be snowing. I can’t tell anymore. I reach for the warmth, and for the second before my vision stops I swear there’s a full blown blizzard forming.

Blankness, darkness, a lack of feeling. I might go mad like this, but at least I’m not cold. At least I can’t feel what those animals did to me. Is this what Hell is like? A formless void where time has no meaning. I wonder what I did to deserve going to Hell? Was it that time I froze a crook by accident? Or maybe all those times I was too late to help? Maybe it was those thoughts I had about Mike. I reflect on my life, as short as it was I can’t really pin down a moment I did anything really wrong. I mean, I never did anything with Mike, and well... Um. You can’t blame a girl for thinking about it, I mean. He’s a sweetheart, and he needs me, and despite his infirmity he’s still really good looking.

Wait, what the hell am I thinking. He’s my brother, not some stripper I want to pick up. I struggle to force the images of his body out of my head, beat the quiet words he’d only said to me down to something more suited for siblings. Pointless to think of something like that now, I’m already in Hell.

An eternity later, I come to the simple conclusion that I can’t think of a single moment that would justify me being in Hell, and a small piece of my heart breaks. I’d always had faith in justice, that things would eventually even out. But this just isn’t fair, I’m in Hell, and Mike is on his own. He must be heartbroken. Wait. I shut down the mechs. I shut them down from the maintenance console. And... And... I used his password to do it... I finally feel something, a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach. He’s going to blame himself, he’s going to forget how to live. And it’s all my fault.

I try to find some way out of this blankness, but there are no walls to smash, no floor to break, or ceiling to collapse. There’s nothing here. Even the wellspring of warmth, the source of my control over cold is gone. I have nothing left but need. But need will produce the power to satisfy it if you have the will. The saying was my father’s favorite. He’d been an amazing hero in his time, though I’d never found out how he’d died. Even Mike didn’t know, and he could find out almost anything.

So I kept trying. I still have no idea what actually worked. But I break loose, the empty white space rippling, spots of color intrude. Not only that, but the spots of color are blocky, not smooth blotches. I try to seize one, only for it to evaporate like a bit of ash. But it’s promising. I keep trying everything I can think of, wracking my brain for ideas. And it seems to be working. More spots of color appear, and while some of them disappear almost as quickly, a small number continue to accumulate. I’m not sure what they’ll do, maybe they’ll wipe me from existence, or maybe they’ll form a gate, or just as likely, they’ll turn into dancing ice cream cones.

Wait. These things, they’re like pixels. I can see marching characters through them. I’m not in Hell, I’m in some kind of computer. Or computer Hell, I don’t fucking know. I’m not brilliant like Mike. But I do remember some things from his lectures on how he broke into other peoples systems. I must have managed to break out of the memory space I’m supposed to be in. I decide to try remembering everything I’ve ever done, in as much detail as possible. The blocks of color start to interlink, forming shapes in my prison. The blocks start to become windows to something, I’m not sure what yet. Some of them show a glittering wasteland, impossibly thin spires of crystal in so many colors reaching out, each view slightly different.

Others show a drill slowly chewing through the crystal masses, sparks dancing across the windows in a variety of colors. The most interesting one shows a view of the city, though it’s higher than I’m used to seeing it. From here I can see the gleaming white paint isn’t really so gleaming, stains mare it’s surface while patches crumble away from them. I can see the tilt of buildings, the sag of floors. But most breathtaking are the stars. I remember the last time I saw the stars. Our parents had taken us to a planetarium, since that was where my brothers class should have taken him that week, if he hadn’t skipped grades. He only rarely got to leave his wheelchair, since only mom could do anything for him, her bio-kinetic abilities temporarily repairing the damage. It was the last family outing we’d ever had, our parents had disappeared the next week.

Now that I could see the stars in the sky, I wondered how I could live without them, how anyone could live without ever seeing the stars. I’d thought that the stars were guardians, ever vigilant against evil. Now, I know they just don’t care. But that’s part of their charm, they are there to be taken in your hand, and they don’t judge you if you fail or not. Is this why all those villains try to destroy cities and plunge the world into darkness? So that they will see the stars? No. I’m being wishful again.

At the break of dawn I watched the sun come up, and it chased the stars from the sky. I just watch the world go by, time seems to go faster outside. The more lost in thought I get the faster the world flashes by, so I’m probably running into the limit of what it can support for thought. When I sleep, the world slows to a crawl. I still can’t figure out how to talk to Mike, I think I would have screamed myself hoarse if I still had a body. I still haven’t figured out what computer I’m in, or how I got here. Maybe a villain captured me to use as a mind slave and hostage, maybe I’m not really me, just a simulacrum made from Facebook posts. I really have no idea what’s going on, I mean it’s not like anything prepares you to wake up after you die.

Maybe I should teach a class on it, if I ever figure out how to do more than look through a window. Let’s not. I’d rather not admit that I only managed to see the outside world because I came up too many ways that sucked.

I finally figured out what I’m in. It’s George, our recovery mech. I can’t figure out what it’s drilling for, but it’s our robot. George is the most heavily armored mech Mike made, a contingency plan I’d forgotten about. I’m still not sure how I got into his computer systems, but now that I know it’s George I’m stuck in I can try to get into the interfaces Mike uses in his creations. Everyone thinks Mike’s just a tinker, or maybe an AI, but he’s a technopath and can manipulate metal as well.

Interlude

The source of superhuman abilities are still a mystery, but we have begun creating a taxonomic classifications system and rough ranking system. Self contained abilities are the most common, frequently manifesting as increased strength and reflexes. The increased reflexes are one of the most puzzling portions of the superhuman condition, as they can are the single most common, and in some cases can circumvent nerve damage.

Self contained abilities frequently manifest with increased durability and increased pain threshold, but consequently leads to vastly increased risk taking behavior. Self contained abilities are most frequently the archetypal superhero abilities; strength, durability, speed, flight, reflexes. The least common self contained abilities are mental, and those lead to mental instability in the vast majority of cases. Current theories have come to the conclusion that the human mind cannot cope with the conditions caused by mental powers. It is noted that every recorded telepath is either on a heavy drug regime or institutionalized, and that this occurs within months of manifestation. Examples include Mr. Amazing, Towering Tim, Machine-Miester, and Ms. Mystery.

The second major class of abilities are the externally manifested. These abilities include constructs formed of light, manipulation of the environment, wide area sensory abilities, and what is frequently called magic. These abilities are much rarer than the self contained. Very few examples of this variety are in evidence, the best having vanished from sight. Examples include Roulette, Last call, Time Master, Hello Nurse, and Ice Queen.

Abilities are ranked on a fairly simple if misleading scale. The scale is logarithmic, running from F to SS, though rankings above S are purely theoretical, and only one example of an S rank ability has been recognized. F rank abilities are abilities that range from marginally better than base line to peak of human ability. S rank transcends humanity’s understanding, and requires exotic physics to describe the full extent. Abilities are individually ranked, and then added to produce the rank of the the individual manifesting them. This does not mean that the higher ranked power is always better. To use a well know example, Last Call and Ice Queen. Last Call, with his alcohol control is recorded as an A rank hero, while Ice Queen is B rank, but her much broader ability allowed her to object to Last Call’s sexual harassment during a extremely brief trial membership of the Triumphant.

Nearly all external abilities also manifest at least F rank durability, noted exceptions include Hello Nurse, and Roulette. Also to be noted is the existence of Imagine Breaker, an individual that cannot be deemed either a hero or villain, with his ability to shut down other abilities. No ranking conventional ranking can be applied, as no data has been recorded as to the extent or method of the blocking.

Ice Queen

Well, I finally managed to figure out how to invoke the speakers on George. But unfortunately, Mike designed him to run without direction from him, and so left most of his interfaces out of his code, to prevent him from being compromised. So I can talk, but only to an empty room. I’ve been sitting here for I have no idea how long(Mike never needs a clock, he can feel the atomic clock broadcast, so he never thought to leave anything like that in a format I might be able to understand). I might have made more progress if I knew more about programming than how to start the factory.

Maybe I should learn something about it, since I’m now a digital native. I really wish I had an internet connection, or a game of solitaire or something. I’ve been alone with my thoughts and memories too much, and I don’t like it. I did manage to keep my dreams from all being about that time, and I managed to stop thinking about people like they were things. But I’m having a really hard time keeping my focus.

I did figure out the microphones. Turns out I have to really focus on only the outside world in order to run close enough to real time to hear it. It also turns out that if I don’t focus my voice ends up really weird when I use the speakers. Can’t say I’m really happy about that, I never could keep my focus on the conversation when I talked to Mike, but at least I have time to practice.

How long is he going to wallow in his room? I mean, I can’t believe how long it’s been. Going by hydraulic system turning over(I think it was either once a month or every six months) it’s been a long time. But he still hasn’t left his room. Maybe I’m stuck here. I hope someone comes. I really don’t want to be stuck here until George falls apart.

Something’s happening. I can hear it. I can see the sentry bots Mike made moving for the first time since I got here. What’s more I can see a door opening. Maybe he left the factory so he wouldn’t be surrounded by memories, and he’s finally ready to come back? Maybe he found some girl and he’s ready to say goodbye to this place. Will I see him? I don’t know if I want too. The video feeds race past as my thoughts overwhelm the computer I’m stuck in.

I’ve never seen him so tired looking. I’ve never seen him kill, he’d always been more controlled than that. It was the only reason they’d let him stay an unaligned hero. I’d never told him about how the Triumphant had told me about how no person with mental abilities could be allowed to stay independent, about the risks they ran. But they’d let him stay with me, because they’d never found out the truth about him.

“I see you’ve finally come out of your funk, brother dearest. So unlike you to stay still for so long, you’ve always been so full of energy.” I think my death broke something inside him, but I finally know how I got here. He’s always been my guardian angel, and now he’ll become a demon unlike any other.

Machine-Miester

I drifted into consciousness, rather slowly. My head still throbbed from a years long bender, but I was stark sober. I considered the idea that it was all a fever dream, something brought on by my drinking. But it couldn’t be, I wouldn’t be see the LED I’d set up to report when Sam was here. And my suit would be at my side where it belonged rather than somewhere else.

My room stank, to a level I couldn’t believe what with how I’d lived in it for the whole time. I crawled across the bed, having to pause several times to rest. Man, I’m out of shape. I can’t even cross my bed without being exhausted. Eventually, I reached my wheelchair. I hadn’t used it in even longer than my suit, but at least it didn’t kill it’s battery. My computers woke to my touch, and after sweeping the layer of trash covering them to the floor, I could begin to put things into order.

First things first I guess. I began by ordering the factory above to create some more cleaners for my room, since the last of them had died ages ago. Then I dug into our finances, it takes quite a bit of money to operate a super anything. We’d taken over our parents accounts, and I’d programmed a cute little trader bot to supplement our income. It seems like it worked fine while I checked out, though it’s rate of return had slowed. I dug deeper, it should be capable of self learning, so it shouldn’t be slowing down. Wait. Alright, it’s decided to slow down it’s movements to keep the market from being too affected by it’s actions. Finances are plenty good, I have more money than I thought I’d ever get.

Let’s check the intelligence reports. Shit. Looks like a third of my little spies have been dug out of systems, and I wasn’t around to replace them. On the plus side, my little spies had gathered a treasure trove of secrets that everyone thought well and truly buried. I do so love having more information than anyone else. So worth the effort when some super-villains doomsday machine shuts down because you used some fatal flaw of it’s construction. The look on their faces was priceless.

My systems are behind the times, they’ve almost closed the gap on my computer systems. At least for the other supers. That won’t do at all. I like having the edge in brute power, even if my algorithms would keep me ahead of the pack for a few years yet. Much longer in my funk and someone might have managed to dig into my secrets rather than the other way around.

Physically, the factory is in slightly sad shape. The power systems have taken a beating, what with the rather abrupt shutdown and startup I’d given them, and they were never designed to be idle. The other systems seem to have weathered the time better, other than the dingy paint outside. The place was meant to look slightly run down, but now the armoring is showing through the paint, and facades are peeling from the security measures. Not enough to give it away yet, but very worrying if it continued.

I really should have activated the supervisor before I gave up, but then I didn’t care enough to do so. I’d just called it a day, and given up. Well, I guess the world can wait some time before I show myself, no use rushing things. Even the systems I’d killed would restrain the super-villains for another few weeks before they could break out, and some of them would still be hard pressed to escape.

I’ve always hated how much the superheroes got away with, some of them are substantially worse than the villains they bring in. I remember the time when the other heroes decided to warn me off from my investigations into corruption and disappearances. I should laugh, their last threat is null and void, I can keep my sister safe from anything they could do to her now. I start one of the few outlying facilities to begin constructing a deep space probe, provisioning it for thousands of years. If the worst comes to worst, I’ll stash her there and launch it. If I start by stimulating a solar flare, then there shouldn’t be any evidence of it’s launch left where anyone can find it.

I review the inventory of captured equipment, stored in warehouses around the world. Turns out very few supers want to clean up their own messes, so I started a company that does it for them. The insurance companies were thrilled to finally have someone who could actually deal with all the crap supers leave lying around on a daily basis. Most of the stuff is torn to pieces in the examination stage, but some portions are either too valuable to destroy or in very rare cases, to hard to destroy.

The main base looks like a simple warehouse near the docks, dilapidated and nearly abandoned. But the crumbling paint hides armor that can withstand anything short of a naval gun, other than the doors. Those simply have shutters that can be deployed to protect them. The burnt out lights hide cameras and sensor clusters, the crumbling concrete stanchions conceal turrets, and moldering pallets break up the lines of a set of VSL cells taken from a sunken submarine. Hold that thought.

I command the missiles be refurbished, and modifications done to the original warheads in storage. I think having a few cards up my sleeve that no-one expects will come in handy. After all, who doesn’t like hyper sonic thermonuclear warheads with guidance and E-war packages from hell? It’s not like I’m using the strange matter fragments we recovered from some extra dimensional threat. The world would recover, even if it took years. I could get what I want just by launching those things, by reaching out and taking the eager puppies that are the ICBM controls for the world. So many weapons sleep in forgotten tombs. If I could just abandon that last shred of humanity, I could win.

But I can just see my sister hating me for setting the world on fire. I could win, but the cost isn’t worth it. Instead, I’ll tilt at windmills until the world wakes up. I will crush the illusions that imprison the world, and they will reach for the stars again. For decades Mankind has crawled amongst the filth, content with stasis. They have forgotten the great strides they once made, fallen to hardly more than beasts.

I shake the madness, the urges that always come when I reach for my full powers, from my head. They are a poison that eats away at my humanity, replacing it with cold reasoning twisted into something beyond evil. I think they are worse now, but the power that comes with them is even stronger. I could feel the dead hulk of a trailblazer, the sad state of an explorer. I reached for the power once more, straining to the limit as my mind wrapped Viking and Curiosity in it’s influence.

Batteries changed, the chemicals organizing into nanostructures beyond any humanity could manufacture, solar panels clear, gleaming with new life as current trickles through their circuits once more. My power surged, repairing damaged structures, drawing fresh material from the endless red wastes. Viking shuddered to life, it’s ancient systems crying out for it’s long dead makers. It reported it’s findings, and began it’s experiments anew. Curiosity was different, it’s systems had no tasks left. I gave it new goals, to explore even further, to find new things. Both systems cried out to their makers, and their cries fell on deaf and dead ears. A short moment later, I built a new radio for them to talk to. They were content.

The strain of doing that drained nearly all my energy, but it was worth it. When humanity turned it’s gaze outward again, it would find those two carrying out their tasks. Maybe some day, someone will read the faded signature of a little girl on the side of that rover. I slept. Everything else could wait. I fading thoughts were full of hope, and warmth so long gone from my bones. But the cold returned soon enough.

Intermission

The neural degradation of super human individuals is one of the best kept secrets of medical science. No individual with any form of abilities has escaped from the madness that eats away at their sanity. Some find it slow in coming, others are devoured almost as soon as their abilities manifest. These issues are made worse by the increasing power that an individual with abilities can draw upon as their madness worsens. The least harmful manifestation is that they are god like beings that must protect the weak from the world. The most harmful is the overwhelming urge to destroy reality.

The current working theory for these manifestations is that they are connected to the abilities themselves, as those with weaker abilities tend towards weaker manifestations. The disuse of abilities had also been linked to reduced manifestations. The self contained power set has much more narcissistic manifestations on average, while the externally manifested have more varied manifestations.

Any mental abilities manifested by an individual seem to enhance the madness, providing no protection from the irrational behaviors. Some experiments are alleged to have been preformed on individuals with a high likelihood of manifesting abilities, though no records of such experiments have been found. The disappearance of the top neurologist has handicapped our efforts to find a treatment, as has the severe dangers involved in studying the subjects directly.

Debate still rages as to the morality of concealing the issues from the afflicted. The eventual fate of all individuals is brain death, as their neurons cascade into uncontrolled release of neurotransmitters causing immediate seizures followed by the shutdown of all neurons.

Chess Master

The balance has changed. A piece has returned to play, and another has been promoted. The board will shift into a new shape. Good, the stasis will be overturned. Perhaps these pieces will find the trick to breaking the rules. A few pieces will need to be maneuvered in order to keep the game from falling right back to where it started. In the darkness, worn stone pieces shuffled over pitted tiles, endlessly moving in patterns that devolved into simple repetition. A cracked piece stood still, unmoving in the darkness, as a gleaming metal piece stood by it’s side. Opposed to these pieces stood a mammoth piece, crimson red stone glowing in the darkness. Despite being a light in the darkness, it still felt evil.

Folded in a hand of brittle bone and paper thin skin were a few small pieces, one glowing with pure white light, and the other flashing colors in a truly random sequence. The final piece enfolded in the hand no longer had a defined shape, it seemed to be a fragment of some larger stone.

In the darkness beyond, a board that had been long still stirred to life. Two pieces coalesced from the dust that covered the board. They moved, stirring up the dust and stones. In time, more pieces might form from their actions. Only time would tell.

Ice Queen

I watch him sleep, I knew he had nightmares, he always had. But for the first time in I could remember, his sleep seemed to be peaceful. He looks so peaceful like this, like an angel delivered from hell. I can see the scars where endless surgeries had left their mark, where he’d taken hits meant for me on his armor. Well, I was his armor now. I’ve lost my abilities, but I can protect him.

Well, I’ll be able to do something as soon as I figure out the interfaces. I thought bro made them simple, but I guess his idea of simple and mine are different. I mean, why does moving a single leg take nineteen steps. Ah hell, I’ll get it soon.

Fuckity fucking fuck. I cannot believe I fell over into a pile of garbage. I can’t believe Mike didn’t wake up when I did that. He must have been dead tired. I keep walking. Well, lurching. How does he even walk like this...

Fuck. It’s not like he’s managed to walk on his own before. I remember all the times I’ve carried him piggy back, it made him so happy. It made him feel like he was just another little kid, spoiled rotten by his big sis. I wish I’d done it more often. Finally I manage to get back to where my body is, having had to take the stair since I hadn’t figured out the elevator interface yet, and smashing the buttons like an idiot doesn’t sound like fun.

I had felt something when we’d stopped to see it. An echo. When I got there, the ice crystals coated the armor, coating the with a flawless gleaming gem, the frozen air flowed through the air like ribbons. I could feel the something, it reached for me, but could not reach me.

I stood there for some time, before I stumbled back towards the command center we’d buried almost as deeply as our rooms. I passed rank after rank of automatia on my way down, seems like the product tests had really swelled the ranks after Mike stopped using them. The gleaming chassis of combat mechs studded with sensor clusters, the dark shimmering outlines of stealth mechs, the pastel bulks of service mechs, and the brilliant yellow of construction mechs. Even dozens of dull white aerial mechs, and greenish sea mechs.

I remembered how he’d never cared how many mechs he’d destroy in the pursuit of saving someone, I think one’s still holding up a portion of a school, and another is playing jungle gym at a different one. Those one’s probably still work, but I don’t think he’d ever use them for something. I could see all the broken and crushed mechs that had traded blows with the worst of them.

I guess those things were the reason everyone thinks he’s a robot, he’s always in perfect control of them, and he doesn’t even hesitate to throw his real body in harms way either. Not really the typical modern hero. I remember the stories Dad once told me, about heroes throwing themselves into the line of fire for others, but that didn’t really happen anymore. Heroes tended to either get killed by a surprise attack, or simply disappear without a trace. Or turn up as a villain.

Wow. Bro really liked information overload. As soon as I stepped foot into the command center, every single one of it’s displays had lit up, and while one of the odd ones had exploded, it had been replaced almost immediately. That, and the floating windows full of information. And the constant stream of raw data. No wonder he was so good at managing fights if he could deal with this.

I sat in my chair, through it groaned a bit as I did so. My keyboard was strong enough for me to use, since I’d had the bad habit of freezing it by accident and slamming it into the table. I still wonder if he made it or bought it. I got to work, reading the notes on current events aggregated by the programs Mike created to condense the mass of information to something I could read.

Man, what the hell. Nothing’s really changed from when I died. How the hell can nothing change in years? Wait. I start trying to to chart out the major statistics for the last couple of decades, adjusting for population changes. I order the assistant programs to start looking for abnormally consistent trends, and when they started and ended, with much earlier time frames as reference points.

I can’t believe I never noticed that my overviews never really changed. At least I can start digging. I think Mike must have noticed, but I think he didn’t see it as strange. So, looks like some of the worse heroes have risen to prominence, some of the villains have gotten nabbed or disappeared. One of the programs pops a graph onto my screen, it’s disturbing. The lifespan of villains, it’s static. I don’t mean the ones killed in fights, but they all disappear along a static line, only determined by power level.

Chrono

I was alone, and terrified out of my mind. I was facing the worst villain in history, and the only one with a power like mine. I canceled out his time blade, spreading it out amongst the street. The area of our battle had been reduced to rubble already, but I had made time for the civilians to escape. Time Master loved to be cruel, torturing people by rotting their limbs off, or even their whole bodies as they endured the pain. I sent a wave of slowed time racing across the field, hoping to catch him in it even for a moment. I was burning through my time faster than ever, pushing to beat him to the punch.

Another blade sliced the ruins of a building into pieces. But the slowed time it had raced through had meant it missed me. I stood, the remains of the building falling around me as they crumbled to dust. I reached deep, pulling on what I had left. I willed time to slow, the air turned thick, the world dark. I knew he wouldn’t escape this one, but neither would I.

I’d Stand my last here. The world stopped. Birds paused in the sky, hanging as if suspended by threads. A leaf froze mid air, flames seemed to be no more than glass. Nothing would live here again, I’d pulled the time to a complete halt. Both Time Master and I were frozen for eternity, his will pitted against mine for control. But I’d had the element of surprise, so I won. Maybe someday someone would figure out a way to reverse it, but I hoped not.

This way, I’d get to see the results of my sacrifices, even if only through a small window. I’d see humanity gasp the stars they’d always dreamed of. And maybe, just maybe, make them their own. I’d be okay with that.

Kaiju

I stirred, chains rattling and echoing through the empty room. I could feel energy coursing through my veins once again, the suppressors failing to contain the awesome nuclear force that is my life blood. I tried to laugh, my face contorting as I discovered the melting tissues of my face had sealed my mouth during my slumber. My eyes were tiny, vestigial compared to the senses given to me by my skin. Flesh began to flow, twisting into alien shapes from the sagging melting masses they had become.

I lived, and once more I would rise. No man can stand against a monster such as I, and I was the best monster. My body intensified in it’s changes, the rate growing as in condensed once again. My maw formed, atomic fire coursing in the back of my throat. I laughed. I would be free soon enough, I raised my arms, jets of plasma rocketing from them to snap the puny chains forged by puny humans.

Not so puny chains. My arms failed to rip them in twain, and cold gas quenched my fires, deployed from nozzles I could not sense. I hate the human that trapped me here, even with the atomic dampers failure, I was still trapped until I could gather enough strength to rend the metal of his construction. Deep in the recesses of my mind, I remember the words. Power lords over others, Strength protects others. Those words are are etched into the headstone of my father, and I had forgotten them. Only the years of reflection had granted me them back.

I may be a monster, but I am the strongest monster. My body adapts to the environment, powered by atomic energy, limited only by my time. I think, that I had gone mad, the atomic fire cooking away at my brain, until instinct was the only thing left. But my regeneration is fearsome, and without the atomic fire in my veins, I could return to a thinking monster. My flesh twists, oozing into more efficient forms. I had time, I could wait, and this time, I wouldn’t allow the fire to rot my mind.

Intermission

There is a common misconception about the regenerative abilities of supers, that they can regenerate any damage that isn’t fatal, and in a few cases it’s true. But the issue in those cases is even worse, the regeneration of those most subtle damages can wipe their memories clean, turn them back into infants, or even lock them to the day their abilities first manifested. It is extremely rare for regenerative powers to be capable of fixing brain damage without making it vastly worse. Those very few that can regenerate without their brain resetting are functionally immortal, at least unless they succumb to the extremely aggressive cancers that tend to take out regenerators well before their time.