Super-Mod III (Part 1)|
It was a bright and sunny day on Dan’s JP3 Page when the local Bank was hit. It was a single female that had taken over the building full of hostages. After litteraly turning the security team to ice figures and smashing them, she let all the hostages go so she could better do what she wanted to do without having to keep everyone in check. Well, she let all but one of the hostages go.
It wasn’t long before the giant gothic building was surrounded by a legion of Mod cruisers, all with their lights flashing and doors opened. Most of the Mods were bent down behind the open doors of their cars, aiming their guns out from either overtop or the side, but there were a few that felt venturous and were away from the shelter of their cars.
Inside the bank, the main room was now empty of living people and all was quiet as almost everything was covered in a layer of ice, including sections of the floor. There were even a few icicles hanging from the ceiling. There were also five ice sculptures of Mods at various points in the room and in various poses, as they had been sent in earlier but didn’t stand much of a chance against something they knew nothing about.
The windows were all frozen over as well, creating a rainbow of colors on the floor in the spots where the sunlight tried to shine through. Down the hall and in the Vault Room, the gigantic vault door was almost completely frozen over except for the handle and a fist-sized hole in the ice, revealing just that much of the metal vault door underneath. A young blond 23-year-old girl in a white tank-top, seemingly not feeling cold from all the ice, had her only hostage - an aging old man - tightly by his collar. His name tag read ‘SeanArcher - Bank Manager’.
“Either open the damn door, old man, or tell me how to!” she yelled as she held him close to her own face.
SeanArcher sweated in fear, despite the coldness all around him, but held a firm voice as he said, “You’ll never get inside that vault!”
The bank manager then spit onto the girl’s face. The girl screamed in anger and suddenly SeanArcher began to freeze over, ice creeping out from the girl’s closed fist, over his shirt and then it spread in all directions until he was simply another ice sculpture. Still screaming in anger, the girl backed up and then slammed her fist forward, shattering the sculpture of SeanArcher into millions of tiny little pieces.
Back outside, the Chief of the Mods, JPJunkee, was bent down behind the door of his squad car as he reached in and stretched out his CB radio. “Dispatch, this is Chief JPJunkee requesting immediate back up! Send all available units!”
“Copy that, Chief,” the voice of the dispatch lady came back to him. “But there is something you should know. Some of the earlier witnesses have been talking with the Press. They know about the girl that can freeze objects.”
JPJunkee rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed was for the press to get ahold of that little bit of info. “This day just keeps getting better,” he whispered to himself as he hung up the CB radio and grabbed a megaphone from the seat. He stood up to his full height as he raised it to his mouth.
“This is your final warning,” his voice projected through the megaphone and into the building. “Come out with your hands up and no harm will come to you!”
A few minutes passed by but he got no response from inside the building. One of the Mods standing nearby looked over at him. “What should we do?”
JPJunkee opened his mouth to answer, but before any sound could come out, they heard the sound of an approaching engine. JPJunkee looked back just in time to see Super-Mod zooming down the street towards them, riding his motorcycle. The white N’s on his motorcycle and helmet were no longer white, but were now bright silver. He weaved through a tight space between yellow barriers that had been put up to keep citizen members back, and turned directions. He zoomed through the parking lot, looking for a free space to go through between Mod cars but finding none.
The Mods all turned and pointed their guns at him, but JPJunkee raised his hands up. “No! Don’t shoot him! Stand down!”
Finally Super-Mod spotted a yellow barrier that had been knocked over onto its side during the course of the day, and had one end sticking straight up into the air. Super-Mod lined himself up perfectly and gunned his engine. He hit the ‘ramp’ and flew up into the air, over the closest Mod car, and onto the other side. Once on the ground again, he sped up even more and tilted his bike up onto its back tire, popping a wheelie. He reached the stairs and slammed the front tire down as the back tire reached the first step, and he drove up the stairs and crashed through the bank doors.
“Good-luck,” JPJunkee whispered to Super-Mod.
Aragorn had been trying to track down the location of JP3 Girl when Seth Rex had burst in and informed him about the situation at the bank. Putting JP3 Girl’s search on the back burner, he had suited up and went as quickly as he could to the bank.
Once inside the building, Super-Mod was taken by surprise when he discovered that almost the entire room was ice, and his motorcycle skidded out on the icy floor, crashing through a wooden teller’s booth.
Leaving his motorcycle in the rubble, Super-Mod got to his feet and brushed some splinters off. He removed his helmet, dropping it to the floor by the bike, and put on his cap. He moved his head, looking around the room as he searched for the girl.
Super-Mod’s suit was slightly different now however. The white N on his cap was now also silver and there was a light layer of silver covering the very top and the very bottom parts of his sunglasses. Also, the knuckles on his gloves now had blunt little silver spikes on them.
He walked throughout the room, inspecting everything and looking behind all likely hiding places, trying to locate the girl. When he came across the first of the Mod ice sculptures, he looked it over and inspected it. He tried to look in it to see if he could see the Mod under all the ice, but it became clear to him that the ice was not covering the Mod - the ice was the Mod.
Super-Mod moved on, knowing that it was hopeless to try to help the frozen Mods. They were already dead. He slowly made his way down the narrow carpeted hall, making sure to peek his head in all of the small offices he came across throughout the hall. Just as he was about to look into the Vault Room, the girl leaped out right in front of him and put her hands up.
Before Super-Mod had the chance to do anything, her palms began to turn white as a swirling mist developed from them, exiting her hands and growing larger and more solid as it moved out and reached him. Frost began to develop along his skin and clothes, but that was the extent of the damage done to him. As the girl continued to try to freeze him, she got an expression of ‘What the hell is going on?’ when she realized that Super-Mod was not turning to ice.
The girl stopped her attack and Super-Mod opened his jacket wide for her to see the wires running throughout the inside of it like his own personal electric blanket, only the wires were red hot. He held one of his gloved hands up and the silver spikes were now burning red with heat as well. However that didn’t stop there from being traces of frost on parts of him.
“As you can see, your attack is pointless on me,” Super-Mod stated. “So how about we just sit down with a nice cup of coffee - or maybe a bowl of ice cream for you - and we talk this through?”
The girl burst out laughing, “Shiva does not negotiate!”
“Yeah, I’m not too fond of peace talks either. Just an idea that was suggested to me and I thought I’d try.” Super-Mod whipped out his guns and began to fire at Shiva, but she kicked a nearby table into the air and used one hand to quickly freeze it, while using the other to freeze the floor below it while it was still in the air, attaching the two sections of ice so that the frozen table was held up in the air and acted as a shield. Super-Mod’s bullets embedded into it and sent slight cracks all throughout it, but it did not shatter.
Super-Mod put his guns away and reached into his pocket, taking out three small metal balls. He tossed them and second after they attached to the shield of ice, they exploded and ice shattered everywhere, pelting Shiva as she was directly behind the make-shift shield of ice.
Screaming, Shiva tried to freeze Super-Mod again, but just like last time, it failed, leaving only specks of frost on him. As Super-Mod took out his guns again, Shiva tureds and froze a nearby metal pole that was attached to another pole further down the hall, by a thick red rope. She broke the now-iced pole off from the rope, which also partly froze, and grabbed it in both hands. She jabbed it towards Super-Mod, but he turned to his side and it narrowly missed him.
She slammed it down though, and hit the end of one of Super-Mod’s guns, knocking it out of his hand. She pulled the pole back and Super-Mod returned to his previous position. She ran at him and slammed the pole down, but he dodged and rolled out of the way of a third strike. When he came back up it hit him square in the chest and sent him flying back. He landed on the icy floor of the Main Room, loosing his grip on his second gun as he slid across the ice on his back.
As he started to get to his feet again, Super-Mod slipped slightly on the ice but balanced himself before he fell. Once he was up to his full height again, Shiva had reached him and he ducked to avoid a swipe of the pole that would have hit him in the side of the head otherwise. While ducked, he punched her in the gut and she doubled over. He stood all the way up again and kicked her, sending her sprawling back across the ice.
As Super-Mod waited for her to stand up, he reached inside his jacket and took out a small metal pole, hardly taller in length then his own palm. He wrapped his hand around it and pushed a button on it. It extended both upwards and downwards until it was a long metal pole taller then him.
Shiva dived forward to attack again and Super-Mod blocked with his metal staff. They dueled back and forth in a complicated series of blocks and attacks of all speeds and strength as their feet moved them across the room, once in awhile finding traction on un-frozen parts of the floor. The rainbow of colors from the frozen windows danced over them as they fiercely dueled across the room.
During the staff-to-pole fight, Shiva went to once again swipe her pole sideways at Super-Mod and he twirled his body around behind a frozen Mod that he had backed up into. Shiva’s ice pole slammed into the sculpture and the Mod’s head was shattered. Super-Mod came out from behind the statue from the other side and Shiva turned around to knock his forceful jab down. While her pole was still on top of his staff, Super-Mod used all his strength to slam it up and while holding her pole above his head with his staff, he slammed the bottom of his staff forward and hit his opponent in her chest.
She stumbled back and slipped on the ice. As she landed with a hard thump, a trio of icicles fell loose from the ceiling. One landed inches away from her head and she had to roll away to avoid a second one from impaling her in the chest. Super-Mod slammed his staff upwards to shatter the final icicle in mid-air before it had the chance to hit him.
Shiva got back to her feet just in time to be met with a fist to the face, a second fist to her chest, followed up by a strong side-kick to her chest as well, knocking her back over a teller’s booth and falling to the floor behind it, disappearing from Super-Mod’s view.
Super-Mod approached the teller’s booth carefully, but when he peered over it to see what became of Shiva, he quickly slammed his head back to avoid a blast of ice. Shiva jumped back out and while Super-Mod was still distracted, kicked him, knocking him down onto the icy floor and then kicked him in the ribs, sending him sliding across the room.
She snarled with joy and pointed her palm out towards Super-Mod’s crashed motorcycle. Swirling white mist began to form in her hands. Just as she was about to fire, Super-Mod, knowing that he could not get to his feet and over to her in time, reared his hand back and threw his staff like a javelin. It flew across the room, cutting through the air, and slammed right into her arm, making a very loud crack noise to come from it as she screamed in pain. Due to the staff hitting her arm at the last second, Shiva accidentally fired slightly to the side of the bike and the debris of the booth froze instead.
As Super-Mod approached her, Shiva turned and shot ice out at him. Knowing that he would not freeze however, she aimed for the very bottom of his boots and the floor around them. It only took a couple seconds for Super-Mod’s boots to freeze solidly to the floor. Without giving him the chance to pull any tricks, Shiva turned and ran out of the room and back down the hall. Super-Mod tried to lift each foot with all his might, but his boots were frozen to the floor really good. Sighing with frustration, Super-Mod leaned down and began to untie his boots.
Now wearing only socks on his feet, Super-Mod made his way across the room, trying his best not to slip on the ice, retrieved his gun, and reached the solid floor of the hallway. As he ran down it towards an opened window, he picked up his second gun. At the end of the hall he reached the window and looked out into the back ally behind the bank. On the ground below, there were five recently-frozen Mods. Super-Mod jumped onto the ledge and leaped down to the ground below, landing hard on his feet. He then took off at a run down the ally.
Just as he reached the end of the ally, he spotted a manhole cover moving overtop of a sewer entrance and rushed towards it, his feet painfully slapping the rock-covered gravel. He tried to remove the cover, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried to stick his finger in one of the small holes in the top and discovered with dismay that it was frozen from the other side.
Even though the girl known as Shiva had gotten away, it appeared that Super-Mod had stopped her from robbing the bank. It may not have been a clear victory for him, but it couldn’t be counted as a loss either.
‘No Tears’ by Scarface boomed loudly over a small CD player that sat on a table in a neat and tidy living room located deep underground in Super-Mod’s secret hidden base, Version 2. Attached to the living room was a small enclave, almost like a large walk-in closet, where there were three arcade machines set up.
Seth Rex was currently in the arcade room, moving the controls and blasting away at whatever onscreen monsters were invading the digital city. “Yeah, come on baby! Who’s your daddy now!?”
Seth looked at the bottom of the screen and suddenly tensed up. In one corner it showed the reigning high score while in the other corner it shows Seth’s current score. The current score was nearing the same number as the high score. He fired at another rampaging monster, blowing its head off and splattering green blood all over the screen. “Take that up your ass, chicky-poo!”
The door to the base opened and Super-Mod entered, distracting Seth for a second as he looked away from the game and back at his friend. Super-Mod turned the volume down on the stereo as he talked. “Uh, Seth? I really think you need to change the voice of our security system.”
“What’s wrong with it? I’m rather fond of it myself.”
“It’s way too…girly.”
“And that would be why I like it.” Seth turned his attention back to the videogame only to discover that while his head was turned, he had been killed and lost the game before he could beat the high score. “What!? Oh, this is such bullshit…”
As Super-Mod moved throughout the base, he began removing his attire and changed into his regular clothes. Seth walked out into the main living room. “So how was the new psycho bitch?”
“Well she calls herself Shiva and…”
Seth cut Aragorn off by saying, “We have an attentive gamer I see.”
“What?” Aragorn asked.
“Shiva. The name of the Esper of Ice in the Final Fantasy games.”
Aragorn rolled his eyes and ignored Seth’s geeky knowledge. “Thank God for your enhancements to my suit. It was a bit too roasty, but that simple little fact is what saved my ass.”
“So you caught her?” Seth asked.
“Not exactly,” Aragorn explained. “Actually she escaped, but I think I broke her arm. I talked to JPJunkee and he’s going to have his men check out the hospital and all the local clinics.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t arrest you on the spot.”
“He probably would have, but he has bigger fish to fry right now and he can’t afford to arrest one of his strongest allies at the moment.” By this point Aragorn had fully changed into his regular clothes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go for a really long, really really hot shower.”
As Aragorn turned to walk away, Seth noticed for the first time that Aragorn didn’t have any boots on and that his socks had gotten really hole-y. “Hey, what happened to your boots?”
Outside of an old condemned and abandoned apartment building, a white van sat still with its back doors wide open. A group of four people jumped out of the back of the van, two of them carrying large heavy boxes, while one carried a brand new TV and the last one rushed ahead of them to move loose boards away from the door and open it up for the others.
It was easy to tell by the state of the interior of the building that nobody lived there anymore. The group moved down the carpeted and ripped floor until they reached a set of stairs at the end and then traveled up them to the second floor. They moved down another hall and the man with his hands free opened an apartment door part way down the hall.
Inside this apartment was nothing but stolen items. Most were compiled randomly in dozens upon dozens of boxes, however the bigger things such as a couch with a huge rip in one of the cushions and a full-on entertainment system, were left out of the boxes for obvious reasons.
The men placed their items and boxes in the apartment. The man that had his hands free and the man that had been carrying the TV walked back out of the apartment and further down the hall and into an apartment that had its door wide open.
This apartment was set up like any apartment with someone living in it would be. Sitting on the expensive-looking leather sofa was Malcolm, watching the big screen TV in front of him. He was watching a news program about the attempted bank robbery earlier. Behind the reporter, he could see the barricade of cop cars beginning to disperse. “Who is this vigilante that intervened and saved the bank from being robbed? Sources say that his name is Super-Mod and he…”
Malcolm spat at the TV when the reporter mentioned Nightshade, and turned when he heard people walking in.
“We have returned from our recent Hits,” the first man, the oen who had had his hands free earlier, said. His name was Ambrose.
“And?” Malcolm asked. He hated when he had to push to get information. It meant that it wasn’t going to be good news. Ever since he took over The Order, he’s been given almost nothing but bad news. He first joined The Order two years before, and through a series of various different bad circumstances - or good depending on your view - he ended up as the leader.
“We obtained a 21 inch Plasma Screen TV, a lot of jewelry, some expensive silverware…”
Ambrose was cut off by Malcolm yelling, “Idiots! That is petty stuff! A Grade 10 student can steal better things then that! The Order’s goal is to run all the crime on Dan’s JP3 Page and be the most respected organization, and we can’t do that if all its members can do is steal petty stuff such as Sony DVD players. We need to work on a bigger goal to show the Internet that we mean business.”
The second thug, Panos, spoke up with his idea. “What about the bank? If we hit that then we’ll be recognized immediately.”
“No, it’s already been marked by someone else,” Malcolm shot the idea down. “Plus security will be heightened after today’s attempted robbery.”
“There’s a Save the Rainforest gala on in a few nights,” Ambrose suggested. “I know it won’t be anything extravagant, but if we hold everyone up and take everything of value, we’ll make quite a fortune and we’ll get known.”
“Security will be too high,” Malcolm shot that idea down as well. “They’ll be expecting someone to hit there. No, we need someplace that won’t be expecting it.”
At that moment, Vito Hardy walked into the room. He was tall, skinny, and wore thick glasses and a business suit. Overall not someone you’d expect to be a gang member. “Malcolm?”
Malcolm stopped his conversation and turned to look at Vito Hardy. “What is it, Vito?
“I Just wanted to inform you that he has arrived.”
Malcolm’s face lit up with exited joy. “That is great news Vito! Bring our guest on up.”
Vito Hardy left the room while Malcolm turned the TV off and stood up. The two thugs exchanged glances. “Who is it?” Ambrose asked.
“Someone who will help us greatly with a pest problem of ours.”
“We have rats?” Panos asked, completely oblivious over who his boss actually meant.
Malcolm laughed. “A very big one, yes.”
A minute later Vito Hardy returned, leading into the apartment a tall muscular man that wore a leather vest over his bare chest and was smoking a thick cigar. “I present the mercenary codenamed Dark Element.”
Malcolm walked over and smiled as he shook the mercenary’s hand. “Welcome to Dan’s JP3 Page. I compliment you on your speed. It was only a few days ago that I requested your services.”
“You have the money?” Dark Element asked in a gruff voice, ignoring Malcolm’s compliment and getting straight to the point.
Malcolm’s smile faded slightly. “Not yet. But I will soon.”
“My standard fee is half up front and half when the job is done. If you can’t meet that, then we can’t do business.” Dark Element turned and began walking out of the room.
“I’ll double it!” Malcolm blurted out in a desperate attempt to get the mercenary to stay. Dark Element stopped walking, but did not turn back around to face them. Malcolm continued, “I’ll double our previously set arrangement, if you only wait a couple days for your first payment.”
Dark Element stayed in his stance. After a few seconds of thinking, he finally turned back around. “I accept. But if I am not paid half of my fee by this exact time in two days, and I have not yet accomplished my mission, then I will be leaving. If I have accomplished my mission by then and I am still not paid, then I will take out every last member of The Order and the payment will be made in their blood.”
Malcolm smiled again. “Good. We have a deal then. Vito Hardy, show our lovely guest here to his quarters.”
“Right away.” Vito Hardy turned to face Dark Element. “If you’ll follow me, Mr. Dark Element.” He walked past Dark Element and the mercenary followed him down the hall. After he left, Malcolm’s smile again went away as he wiped a bead of sweat from his head and turned to Ambrose and Panos.
“Start selling everything. We need that money and we need it now.”
3/5/2006 2:56:48 AM
(Updated: 3/5/2006 3:01:19 AM)
(Updated: 3/5/2006 3:04:41 AM)
(Updated: 3/5/2006 3:05:04 AM)
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