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    For a long time, the spinosaurus was shown in palentoligical drawings as having a t-rex-like skull. Recent discovereies, however, prove the spino had a long, thin snout. (From: Raptor-Rex)
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    Super-Mod (Part 2)
    By Aragorn

    Late that night, long after Aragorn’s parents were asleep, the only light source in his house came from the computer monitor in his bedroom. Aragorn sat at his computer, printing a sheet of paper off.

    While the printer was printing, Aragorn stood up and moved quietly out into the hall and over to his parents room. He slowly and carefully opened their door slightly, peering in. His mother and father were both sleeping, one of them snoring loudly. Aragorn slowly closed the door and headed back to his room.

    He opened the door to his closet and on a hanger was a dark gray shirt under a black jacket, with a pair of black jeans hanging from the bottom, and the hook of the hanger going through the back of a black cap. On the shelf of the closet was a black bandage, which was laid and smoothed out. Next to it was a pair of black gloves, a small tub of facepaint, and four sets of black gloves. On the floor was a pair of black boot. Aragorn reached in.


    Super-Mod opened the door to the garage carefully, not making a sound. He turned on the light and closed the door behind him. He went over to his new motorcycle and bent down, taking a shape off the sheet of paper he had printed off. He puts it on the side of his bike, pressing hard on it to keep it there. He put anther shape on and then stepped back to look at his new handiwork. There was now a giant white ‘SM’ on the side of the bike. He went over and did the same thing on the other side. He went over to a shelf and took down his black helmet and put a white ‘SM’ on the front of that as well.

    Super-Mod folded the beak of his hat up as he slid the helmet on, lowering the black visor. He got on the motorcycle and started it up, pressing a button on a remote to open the garage doors. He zoomed out of the garage into the night, the doors closing again behind him.


    A street thug dressed in a ski mask, Spino144, hauled a brick through the window of a store. An alarm blared loudly and he quickly rushed inside, stepping over the broken glass. It wasn’t long before he returns back outside, a bulging and almost over-filled sack slung over his shoulder.

    He took a look around to see if there were any witnesses around, and discovered that there were none. However he suddenly heard the sound of an approaching engine getting nearer. It should have been in view now, but he still couldn’t see the source anywhere.

    “What the…” he got cut off as he squinted his eyes and picked out a pitch black motorcycle with no lights on almost on top of him, however it appeared to be driving by itself, heading straight towards the thug. As it got even closer, he spotted Super-Mod riding it, his dark clothes having camouflaged him from a distance, much like with what happened with the motorcycle. As the motorcycle neared, Spino144 didn’t know what to do. Panicking, he turned to run but Super-Mod caught up easily and passed him.

    Super-Mod slammed on the breaks as he turned the motorcycle to the side, blocking Spino144’s path. Spino144 didn’t have time to stop and slammed right into the motorcycle, flipping over it and landing painfully on the other side. The motorcycle continued on and came to a complete stop a few yards away.

    Super-Mod got off the motorcycle, still wearing his helmet, and ran towards the thug, picking up speed. Spino144 slowly stood up, but finally reached full height again just as Super-Mod reached him. The vigilante did a back flip, but as he did, he slammed his leg out, so he ended up kicking Spino144 as he flipped back. Spino144 flipped back in the other direction.

    Super-Mod landed on his feet gracefully and walked over to Spino144, leaning down and punching him right in the face once to knock him out. Sirens could be heard in the distance, approaching.

    He returned to his bike, got on, started it up, and took off, quickly fading into the darkness. He drove around the corner just as Mod cars arrived from another street, piling into the area.


    Two people leaned against the back wall of a building. One of them, The Lid, wore a white tank top and had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. The other, Mallon, wore a jacket. Mallon handed some money Lid, and in return he got a bag of dope handed to him.

    “Nice doing business with you,” Mallon sneered. “If this shit is as good as I’m told, we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

    “My shit is always good,” Lid shot back, slightly insulted. “You have a problem with my shit, you have a problem with me, and I don’t like problems.”

    “Of course,” Mallon put in a quick save. “I have no doubt I’ll enjoy this bag.”

    “Just remember who deals the best shit for the lowest prices and we’ll do fine in the future.” Lid kept a serious face, but Mallon smiled.

    “Hi-ya Fellas,” a voice interrupted. Lid and Mallon whipped their heads to see Super-Mod walking out of the darkness towards them. Super-Mod was no longer wearing his helmet, and had his hat on.

    “Ben, is that you?” Lid asked.

    “Far from him,” Super-Mod snarled.

    Lid took out a gun and pointed it at Super-Mod. Super-Mod stopped walking towards the couple. “ Who are you?”

    “They call me Super-Mod.”

    “What do you want?” Lid questioned.

    “Well a Bic Mac would be nice, but I doubt I’ll be getting that off you.”

    “If you want some of my shit, I can set up a meeting for another time.”

    “Why would I want some of your shit?” Super-Mod asked. “That’s just plain gross. Next you’ll be asking if I want your piss too.”

    “Wise-ass motherfucker.” Lid fired, but Super-Mod predicted that and moved a few seconds sooner. However Mallon saw him move and slammed his leg out, catching Super-Mod in the gut. He doubled over and spit on the ground. Mallon went to kick him again, but Super-Mod grabbed his leg and pulled up as he stood. Mallon’s leg went up in the air and he fells down on his back.

    Lid turned to point the gun at Super-Mod again, but Super-Mod grabbed the gun barrel with his hand and pointed it away from himself just as Tank Top fired. Lid used his other hand and punched Super-Mod in the side of the head. Super-Mod let go and stumbled to the side, moaning slightly. Lid aimed the gun and fired again, but there was only a click.

    “Fuck.” He put the gun away and did an uppercut to Super-Mod, catching him square in the face. Super-Mod let out a yell and stumbled backwards. Mallon was now on his feet again and went to punch Super-Mod, but Super-Mod blocked and then punched Mallon in the face. Then he swung his foot sideways and caught Mallon in the chest, slamming him into the wall. Mallon’s head hit against the wall with a loud thunk, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

    Lid ran towards Super-Mod, his arm pulled back to punch. Super-Mod went to duck, but instead of punching, Lid slammed his knee up, catching Super-Mod in the chin. He slammed his elbow down on the back of Super-Mod’s head, knocking him to the ground.

    Super-Mod didn’t move. Lid brought his foot up, and slammed it down. Super-Mod quickly rolled over onto his back and caught the foot in his hands. He shoved up, toppling Lid back, causing him to fall onto his ass. Super-Mod stood, but wobbled slightly. He turned to Lid and slammed his foot sideways, slamming it into Lid’s face. He fell back, also unconscious.

    Super-Mod held a hand to his head as he walked to Mallon and bent down, taking the bag of dope.

    “Motherfuckers…That hurt,” Super-Mod said painfully as he went to a nearby manhole cover and lifted it up. He dropped the dope into the rushing sewage below and closed the cover.


    Later that night, Aragorn was in the bathroom of his house, the door closed and light on. He was still dressed in his Super-Mod attire, except he had his hat, sunglasses, and bandage on the counter beside him, and most of the facepaint was badly washed off. His face was bruised and bloody and he inspected himself in the mirror. He reached for a can of some kind of cream and began applying it to his cuts and bruises.


    The next morning, Aragorn’s parents were already sitting at the kitchen table when Aragorn walked into the room, yawning. Most of his cuts and bruises were masked by the cream he had put on. His father took a sip of his coffee and then laid the newspaper on the table. He looked up at Aragorn with a stern look.

    “Where were you last night?”

    Aragorn’s heart raced, wondering how his father knew that he had left. He decided he’d tried to cover it up the best he could. “What do you mean? I was sleeping.”

    His father sighed, “I woke up in the middle of the night to get a drink and saw that the bike was gone. I checked in on you and you were also gone. Now I repeat, where were you last night?”

    Aragorn knew he couldn’t continue on with that lie, but he also knew he couldn’t tell his parents the truth. “I couldn’t sleep so I went for a ride, is that so bad?”

    “It is when it’s at night. You know how bad this Site is. I don’t want you riding after dark anymore.”

    Aragorn couldn’t believe it! A motorcycle helped him out so much at night. He didn’t have to walk everywhere and he could intercept so many more people in a shorter amount of time. The motorcycle was the sole reason he was able to get home at an earlier time and actually get some sleep. “But that’s not fair!” Aragorn shouted. “Mom, back me up here.”

    “I’m sorry Aragorn, but your dad has a point.” She didn’t want to see her son in trouble with the wrong crowd and hurt, or worse, killed.

    “I can’t believe this!” Aragorn turned and stormed off, leaving the room.

    “Where are you going?” his father called out after him.

    “To school. Or do you have a problem with that too?” Aragorn snapped

    “Hey, don’t take that…” his father was cut off as Aragorn slammed the garage door. His father sighed and turned back to face his wife. “Did I do the right thing?”

    “You did fine, dear. You’re only protecting him and he’ll see that soon enough. Don’t worry, he still loves you. You’re a great father.”

    Aragorn’s father smiled and went back to his newspaper.


    Aragorn stormed across the garage to his motorcycle, which no longer had the Super-Mod symbols on it, and grabbed the helmet, which also no longer had the symbols on it. He put the helmet on and jumped on his motorcycle, revving it up. He pressed a button on the remote and the garage door opened.

    He took off, zooming out of the garage.


    Aragorn pulled to a stop at the front of Dan’s Page High School. Various heads turned to look at the motorcycle as Aragorn climbed off and removed his helmet. Malcolm approached him with a smile.

    “Awesome wheels, man. Get it for your Birthday?” Malcolm asked.

    “Yeah,” Aragorn smiled. “Took JP3 Girl out for a spin on it last night.” They started walking towards the school’s entrance.

    “Great! See, told you it wasn’t too soon to make your move.”

    “I don’t know what it is. I can never stop thinking about her,” Aragorn confessed. “When she was going out with Joxer, I kind of got over her, because I knew it was pointless to pursue it, but now that she’s single again, all these old feelings keep coming back.”

    Malcolm patted Aragorn on the back as they walked into the school and down a hall. “You’ll do good. She’ll be yours before you know it.”

    “I hope so. I don’t know how much longer I can stand to be ‘just friends’.”

    “Give it time, my friend. Give it time.” They reached their lockers and turned the combination locks to the right combinations and opened their doors. They started emptying out their bookbags.

    “What do we have first?” Aragorn asked.

    “Gym,” Malcolm replied as he removed a pair of sweat pants from his locker. Aragorn closed his locker and turned to see Cameron walking down the hall, his head hung down, looking at something in his hands. He was holding some kind of round device, inspecting it.

    “I don’t get it. I just don’t get it,” Cameron mumbled to himself as he continued on down the hall, out of sight.

    “What’s up with him?” Aragorn asked.

    “Cameron’s in my Industrial Arts class,” Malcolm explained. “He’s always making stupid inventions. Come on, let’s get to class.”

    Aragorn and Malcolm walked down the hall, heading to the gym.


    Later in the day, when classes were still in session and the halls were empty and void of other people, Aragorn stood at a water fountain, taking a much-needed drink. He heard footsteps and looked up, noticing Cameron walking down the hall further ahead. Aragorn wiped water from his mouth and jogged to catch up.

    “Cameron!” Aragorn shouted out.

    Cameron stopped and turned to look at Aragorn. “What do you want?”

    “You don’t have any friends, right?”

    Cameron hesitated, wondering why Aragorn was curious.. “Why do you want to know?”

    “Oh come on Cameron, you can tell me,” Aragorn pushed. “I heard all about your habit of lying. Seems to have costed you a lot.”

    Cameron heard enough. He was sick of people teasing him. “How about you leave me alone?” He started walking down the hall, but Aragorn caught up and moved in front of him, blocking his path.

    “I also hear you’re good at inventions.”

    “So?” Cameron asked, getting annoyed and wanting to return to class.

    Aragorn took out a loose sheet of paper and ripped a piece off, and wrote an address on it. “Come to this address at Six PM.”

    Before Cameron was able to say no, Aragorn turned and walked away, back to class. Cameron looked down at the piece of paper.


    After school that afternoon, Aragorn went to the town gym, dressed in his tae-kwon-do uniform and with a black belt tied around his waist. Other people in a variety of colored belts also occupied the room around him. After the hour-long warm-up exercises at the beginning of the lesson, the class moved on to a sparring match, each person paired up with another of the same rank and belt color.

    Aragorn was sparring with a guy named Icebreaker and blocked a punch by his opponent, and then he blocked a kick. A series of various kicks and punches followed, all of which Aragorn blocked and dodged, except one. He fell onto his back, coughing. Icebreaker reached a hand down and helped Aragorn to his feet. They bowed and went back to their fighting stances. The two people engaged in a spectacular show of honorable martial arts, which moved them both across the room. The battle lasted for several minutes, during which, everyone else in the class slowly noticed how spectacular and fluent the battle was and crowded around to watch and began cheering them on.

    When it was time for the battle to end, Aragorn had lost the battle, but just barely. He bowed to Icebreaker and they shook hands, both sweating profusely.

    “Spectacular display, gentleman!” The teacher complimented as the room cheered and clapped. “You have both come a long way.”


    After his Tae-Kwon-Do class that evening, Aragorn arrived home and walked into his house, still dressed in his uniform.

    “I’m home,” he called out, but got no answer in return. He threw his bookbag to the floor and walked through the house and into the kitchen, which was empty of other people. He saw a small red light blinking on the answering machine. He went over and pressed ‘Play’.

    “Hey Aragorn,” his father’s voice filled the air. “Your mother and I are gone out for dinner. Our anniversary is tonight. We’re going out dancing after supper, so we won’t be home until late. Do any homework you have, and remember, don’t take the bike out after dark.” And with that, the message ended.

    “I’ll take the bike out whenever I want to,” Aragorn said to the machine as he walked away. “It is mine after all, old man.” He arrived at the fridge and just as he opened it, the doorbell rang. Aragorn closed the fridge with a sigh, wondering who it could be.

    He walked to the front door and opened it to discover Cameron standing there. Aragorn shook his head and put on a smile, having temporarily forgotten about his invitation to Cameron earlier. “Come in.” He stepped out of the way and allowed Cameron to walk into the house. He closed the door behind him.

    “So what did you want me to come here for?” Cameron asked, getting right to the point. As far as he was concerned, this was all some kind of prank.

    Aragorn couldn’t believe that he was about to tell Cameron his secret. He knew he could go on without the need to tell anyone, but Cameron had abilities that could be extremely useful to Aragorn, not to mention that even if he did decide to try to tell people, nobody would believe him anyway.

    “Cameron, I’m about to give you the opportunity of a life time. I’m going to tell you the biggest secret in the world, but you can’t tell anyone, cause if you do, I’ll have to kill you.”

    Cameron chuckled a bit, thinking that Aragorn was joking around. After a minute, he began to doubt that Aragorn was actually joking. “No one would believe me anyway,” he finally said.

    “I know. That’s what I’m counting on,” Aragorn stated. “That’s also part of the reason why I chose you to tell this to. Have you heard of a vigilante that stalks the streets at night and takes out criminals?”

    Cameron nodded. “I’ve heard a bit here and there. Mostly rumors. Saw an artist’s rendition once on the news.”

    Aragorn looked Cameron deep in the eyes for a minute, and then confessed, “That’s me.”

    Cameron bursted out laughing. He laughed so hard, tears flowed from his eyes. “You’re a bigger fibber then I’ve ever been!”

    “Stay here,” Aragorn sighed. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He turned and disappeared into the house while Cameron continued to laugh.


    Down the street a little ways, JP3 Girl walked into her room, dressed in her gymnastics clothes. She dropped her bag to the floor and looked at the clock.

    “Shit, I better hurry if I want to be ready for when Aragorn gets here.” She ran to her small bathroom and turned on the shower.


    Back in Aragorn’s house, Super-Mod walked into the porch from inside the house, causing Cameron to stop laughing.

    “Either you’re extremely messed up in the head to go through such lengths to trick me,” Cameron said, shocked. “Or you really are the guy that’s trying to stop all the crime.”

    “I was getting sick and tired of the way this Site is,” Super-Mod explained. “Crime rate has been going up and the Mods hardly do anything about it. I have a theory that they’re being paid to ignore most of what happens. I decided that I could either sit around and complain about it, or actually try to make a difference. Apparently I’ve been doing quite good at the latter.”

    “Why me?” Cameron asked. “I mean, I know why you chose me above other people, but why anyone? You didn’t have to tell anyone about this.”

    “I need help. Last night I was almost beaten by a couple of petty stoners. I need weapons to help, and I heard about how you like making inventions. Now that you know the secret, I ask you: Will you help me?”

    Cameron thought to himself about it for a few minutes. Even if he wanted tot ell someone, he knew no one would listen. That really helped him with keeping the secret. He already knew now, so he may as well put that to good use. “I never get picked for anything,” Cameron finally said. “It’s a great honor to me, to be in on the greatest secret of the Site.”

    “Good,” Super-Mod exhaled, having been nervous by what Cameron’s answer may have been. “I need some kind of weapon as soon as possible. My body can only go so far as a weapon.”

    “That shouldn’t be a problem. Give me a few hours and I’ll be back with some stuff.”

    “Good. See you in a few hours then.”

    Cameron turned and left Aragorn’s house, leaving Super-Mod to smile to himself under his bandage.


    In the middle of a lonely street, Carna, RezSez, and Maitiu54 were among a group of dozens of people, all thugs and gang members.

    “Alright, listen up!” Carna shouted to the giant group. “JurassiClaw put me in charge, so if any of you have a problem with that, you can take it up with him. In the meantime, I want you all to listen to me and listen good. We are going to do everything we can to draw this fucker out. Break into stores, steal, deal drugs to kids in the open, kidnap, whatever you want, just as long as it draws him out. We have insurance, so the Mods won’t be making any busts on us tonight. If they do show, it’ll be to help us. Anyone sights this…Super-Mod…you contact me on the radio. He’s mine. Any questions?”

    No one said a word.

    “Good. Now let’s get to work.”

    The group all cheered as they split up, some going solo, others going in groups of all sizes.

    2/8/2006 2:02:00 AM
    (Updated: 2/8/2006 2:02:15 AM)
    (Updated: 2/11/2006 1:57:01 AM)

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