Sark
Im-im-impossible!!
Armstrong-
Prologue- A Military Campaign
There Senator Steven Armstrong stood, his arms raised above his head in triumph, as he waded through the sea of red, white and blue of the city hall. He pulled back his shoulders and forced his rippling chest forward, testing the skills of his tailor to their very limits; should any more pride swell in his chest, he would surely find himself half nude in front of the press and breed a story that could possibly overshadow the rally itself. Damn paparazzi, he thought to himself, Vultures, each and every one of them. Yet, as a master of the spin, he had trained every muscle in his face to be loyal to his mind, if not his heart; not one of the flickering eyes before him could see the rage of the man beneath the million dollar smile, nor the plans he held for the nation.
Just smile and wave, Steven. Just smile and wave.
How he had hated all the party rallies and press conferences. Having to wear the mask of the sensitive senator was growing more and more tiresome by the day, and election day seemed to grow into a more distant memory by the minute. Why was his great nation so obsessed with preparing for the election so damn early? It was to damn years away, for God's Sake! For now, he was wasting his days away kissing babies and shaking hands with farmers, biding his time until November 3rd, at which time all his efforts will have been worth it. From there on out it would be goodbye 'Senator Armstrong' and 'Hello President-Elect Armstrong'. Next, he could finally initiate his 7 point plan and finally present America with the justice she so dearly deserved. In just ten years time- god willing his incessant media prattling, sycophantism and white lying paid off, and under the presumption that he was successful in securing a second term- he would have done away with the war economy and shed the shackles of the last generation. Then, and only then, would America truly be the liberated nation Washington had envisioned it to be: one free of the bureaucracy and legislation of old, free from the petty debate and snappy headlines of the last century, free from passionless proxy wars and the soullessness of conscription, and most importantly one free of-
The Goddam media
And so, with a beaming smile and powerful stance, Senator Armstrong continued to go through the motions, singing another verse prepared for him by the men behind the curtains. He would perform his lines perfectly, and the American people- his backup dancers and his choir- would soon be kicking and turning to his tune. All he had to do was endure it for a few more years... or 858 days to be exact. Then he could finally reap his harvest-- he just had to keep his temper in check and keep in mind that what was to come was a marathon, not a sprint.
"And so, in the name of liberty, peace, and all things Holy, I say to you, the people of Oklahoma, that-" He released a small orchestrated chuckle, slowing his tempo and raising the anticipation for his coming crescendo "Should I be elected-" Here it came, the finishing line- the voters didn't care for the details- in a few short buzzwords, he could have yet another state eating out of the palm of his hand "I shall grant ALL of you with exemptions i--"
Midbreath, the Good Senator's words were lost in a void of light and nothingness, as the city hall, his nation and his entire universe seemed to shrink down to nothing but a speck in the distance- Armstrong was traveling, and even his campaign manager couldn't predict where he would end up...
----
Cole MacGrath
Prologue- A Lightning Strike
"Hey brother, ya there?" The light, croaking voice of Zeke Dunbar crowd from the depths of Cole's phone, distorted by the freshly fried speaker. Back before the accident, Cole couldn't have imagined he'd still be using the same busted up phone for three years- he had always told himself that he would upgrade to something more practical- maybe something with an uncracked screen, or with all its buttons still attached- but he had always lacked the money; dropping out of university to more parcels for a living was hardly advice one would find in any get-rich-quick help-book. Since then the reliable old girl had been drowned, riddled with bullets, crushed under rubble and fried by his own hand, yet somehow, by some miracle, it had still managed to make calls. In some fashion, it had become a good luck charm, of sorts. Come firey rain, volcanic hail or nuclear sunshine, the beautiful mess had stood by him, even if it had lost some of the charms it had possessed when he first thrifted her.
"C'mon, pick up, man!"
"Yeh yeh" A woozy southern accent slurred into the mouthpiece, stumbling from the voice of a barely conscious man. He rolled onto his side and steadied himself with his good arm, breathing and wheezing heavily. The nausea would pass soon enough, it always did- having several thousand volts coursing through your body tended to kick-start the sobering process- and with any luck, the rattling in his skull would settle too. How long had he been out for? "Christ... What happened?"
"You dropped off, man! Ya phone went dark! We thought we'd last ya!"
Stumbling to his feet, Cole rubbed his temple with his wrist, hoping to free up the blood in his head. It was all coming back to him now. The rooftop. The Militia. The fall. Man, now the pain was all coming back.
"Yeah man, I remember. I was crossing the city over the old tramline. Was jumped by some of Bertrand's boys again. Nothing I couldn't handle...."
Damn, something was missing. There was something he had forgotten. A book was missing from the shelf, but the dust mark remained. How did he end up passed out in an alley on the opposite side of New Marais?
"Then there was this... light?"
"A light? The Militia is shipping in flash grenades now?"
"Nah Nah Nah. It was brighter than that. And it wasn't some bomb... it was..."
Cole made a slow turn, knowing what he was going to see long before his eyes locked with it. He squinted preemptively, anticipating the glowing white void of the-
"Portal. A portal"
A second voice echoed from Cole's bag, one with a far greater composure than the man before her. Somewhere on a rooftop across the city, Lucy Kuo bit her lip as she paced, speaking into a standard-issue government phone; even with the damage to his speakers, the strength of her untrackable device sent her words to the alleyway loud and clear.
"Cole, get out of there. Zeke filled me in on the situation. One of our sensors is picking up some insane readings on the other side of it. Head back to the rooftop and we'll try to get some more intel"
Cole pondered for a moment, taking a moment to absorb Kuo's advice. She knew what she was doing- she always had. Ever since the three of them had arrived in New Marais, she had helped anchor him and Zeke, acting as a conscience for the two men and keeping them on the straight and now. As his powers grew, it became easier and easier to take the easy way out. He could fry a mugger beyond recognition. He could intimidate his way to the top. If he was bored, he could always play catch with a car or take an ice-slide joyride across the freeway. The more powerful he became, the more powerful the desires to surrender to his whims became. But no matter how many volts he could throw through the air, Kuo had never been afraid of him. She was always ready to shut him down and remind him what was right and what was wrong, while never commanding him or trying to profit from his strength. Usually, he would take her words for twice their value, but now...
"Cole? You still there?"
"Did Wolfe say anything about the Ray Sphere cracking open giant space portals? You've read his research- what does he say about this?"
Kuo went quiet, retreating into her mind and searching through the thousands of mental files she stored between her ears. Thousands of Government case files, thousands of novels and page after page of Dr.Wolfe's work seemed to flash through her mind as she thought back...
"Not that I remember, no. He didn't anticipate anything like this, but that doesn't mean it's not possible. He didn't finish his research he--'"
Cole leaned back, cracked his neck and sucked in a deep break, drinking in the all too familiar smog of the city. Forget the rules. Forget the logic. It was time to do something fun for once.
"Then I'm going in"
A chorus erupted from his phone yet again. A symphony of voices seemed to merge together into one singular voice, telling him that his plan was stupid and that it wouldn't work- which was just the way he liked it.
"If this ain't a conduit thing, then whatever is keeping that door open clearly wants to say hi- might as well say hi back?"
"Cole!" Kou pleaded down the phone, her familiar authority clinging to every world "We don't even know it's a door, you're jumping to conclusions! It could easily be a trap sent to fry you to oblivion-"
"Ah!" Cole exclaimed, walking towards the light "I've been fried before and I'll be fried again, so might as well spring this trap and find out who come's to collect the spoils. I'll catch up with you in an hour. Tell Zeke to save me a slice---"
---
Armstrong
"Jesus F*CKING Christ!" Senator Armstrong cried staring down the pitiful bunch before him "Little Green Men? Now I really have seen it all..." He rolled his eyes back and let out a smokey sigh, rolling the tip of a cigar between his lips. One minute he's making a speech to voters, the next he's on some magical flying island with a bunch of half-pints and slug-men? Shit like this made him miss all the handshaking. Pinching his cigar between his fingers, he dropped it at his feet and stomped it under his shoe, grinding the ash beneath his shoe. Part of him had regretted lighting it to begin with- not for any fears for his health or not wanting to choke the other 'heroes'- but because now, fueled by a simple change of mind, he no longer wanted to deal with the hassle of getting his point across with a roll of paper in his mouth.
"Looks like you've got a pest problem, Green Guy. And you're better off bringing in an army, not these..." He started over the frames of his glasses, eying the children at his feet "Midgets... Hire a PMC, maybe? Big guns, tanks, maybe a nuke or two for good measure?" He reached into his jacket and removed a small, black business card. He held the chrome card between his fingers, noting the simplicity and elegance of its design; eight words in crimson and a number- nothing more and nothing less. What more needed to be said.
WORLD MARSHALL INC.
WARFARE TO END WARFARE
DENVER
"Good thing I know some people who can help. You give them a call, I'll see to it you get a discount" He threw the card at Piccolo's feet and turned his back towards the alien. He let out a sharp bellow, throwing his head back in artificial humor "I don't care how many 'planets' this man can destroy, I doubt he can't stand up to a wall of hot, American lead. Believe me, pal; very few things can"
@Alex Azure @Crow @Raynar Saassin
---
"Wait, wait, wait" Cole raised his hands in front of him, almost in surrender as opposed to shock "This guy can destroy planets?" This was bad news. Cole had fought monsters before. He had gone toe to toe with the Bertrand. He had traded blows his Kessler. He had even toppled the Beast, a demon with the power the wide entire city's off the map. But the prospect of wiping away an entire planet with just a click of his fingers? Whatever powers this Cell-guy had, Cole knew he was bad news...
So why was he smiling? Why did a strange excitement seem to bubble from the depths of his chest, filling him with energy and zeal? The prospect of cutting loose again, being free to fight again, just like the old days? Something had been missing since the Beast fell, and it could be summed up in one word- challenge.
"I'm in" Cole cracked his knuckles, letting a river of blue lightning dance across his fingers. "If this guy is as strong as you, I guess its everyone's problem, right? Might as well chip in...Name's Cole by the way... Cole MacGrath"
By the time Vegeta arrived on the scene, all Cole could muster was a roll of his eyes. This 'Saiyan' guy struck Cole as being trouble beyond a shadow of a doubt. He seemed strong sure- even with his powers, Cole could sense the energy radiating from Vegeta- it was almost electrical. But his attitude was too much like his once upon a time- the power had gone to the man's head, but beyond that, it had defined him. It was unhealthy, to say the least, but beyond that, it was dangerous.
"Maybe don't look at a gift horse, buddy- from what I can tell you need all the help you can get. Otherwise, you would have already defeated 'Cell' on your own"
@Crow @Alex Azure @Jeremi @Minerva
Prologue- A Military Campaign
There Senator Steven Armstrong stood, his arms raised above his head in triumph, as he waded through the sea of red, white and blue of the city hall. He pulled back his shoulders and forced his rippling chest forward, testing the skills of his tailor to their very limits; should any more pride swell in his chest, he would surely find himself half nude in front of the press and breed a story that could possibly overshadow the rally itself. Damn paparazzi, he thought to himself, Vultures, each and every one of them. Yet, as a master of the spin, he had trained every muscle in his face to be loyal to his mind, if not his heart; not one of the flickering eyes before him could see the rage of the man beneath the million dollar smile, nor the plans he held for the nation.
Just smile and wave, Steven. Just smile and wave.
How he had hated all the party rallies and press conferences. Having to wear the mask of the sensitive senator was growing more and more tiresome by the day, and election day seemed to grow into a more distant memory by the minute. Why was his great nation so obsessed with preparing for the election so damn early? It was to damn years away, for God's Sake! For now, he was wasting his days away kissing babies and shaking hands with farmers, biding his time until November 3rd, at which time all his efforts will have been worth it. From there on out it would be goodbye 'Senator Armstrong' and 'Hello President-Elect Armstrong'. Next, he could finally initiate his 7 point plan and finally present America with the justice she so dearly deserved. In just ten years time- god willing his incessant media prattling, sycophantism and white lying paid off, and under the presumption that he was successful in securing a second term- he would have done away with the war economy and shed the shackles of the last generation. Then, and only then, would America truly be the liberated nation Washington had envisioned it to be: one free of the bureaucracy and legislation of old, free from the petty debate and snappy headlines of the last century, free from passionless proxy wars and the soullessness of conscription, and most importantly one free of-
The Goddam media
And so, with a beaming smile and powerful stance, Senator Armstrong continued to go through the motions, singing another verse prepared for him by the men behind the curtains. He would perform his lines perfectly, and the American people- his backup dancers and his choir- would soon be kicking and turning to his tune. All he had to do was endure it for a few more years... or 858 days to be exact. Then he could finally reap his harvest-- he just had to keep his temper in check and keep in mind that what was to come was a marathon, not a sprint.
"And so, in the name of liberty, peace, and all things Holy, I say to you, the people of Oklahoma, that-" He released a small orchestrated chuckle, slowing his tempo and raising the anticipation for his coming crescendo "Should I be elected-" Here it came, the finishing line- the voters didn't care for the details- in a few short buzzwords, he could have yet another state eating out of the palm of his hand "I shall grant ALL of you with exemptions i--"
Midbreath, the Good Senator's words were lost in a void of light and nothingness, as the city hall, his nation and his entire universe seemed to shrink down to nothing but a speck in the distance- Armstrong was traveling, and even his campaign manager couldn't predict where he would end up...
----
Cole MacGrath
Prologue- A Lightning Strike
"Hey brother, ya there?" The light, croaking voice of Zeke Dunbar crowd from the depths of Cole's phone, distorted by the freshly fried speaker. Back before the accident, Cole couldn't have imagined he'd still be using the same busted up phone for three years- he had always told himself that he would upgrade to something more practical- maybe something with an uncracked screen, or with all its buttons still attached- but he had always lacked the money; dropping out of university to more parcels for a living was hardly advice one would find in any get-rich-quick help-book. Since then the reliable old girl had been drowned, riddled with bullets, crushed under rubble and fried by his own hand, yet somehow, by some miracle, it had still managed to make calls. In some fashion, it had become a good luck charm, of sorts. Come firey rain, volcanic hail or nuclear sunshine, the beautiful mess had stood by him, even if it had lost some of the charms it had possessed when he first thrifted her.
"C'mon, pick up, man!"
"Yeh yeh" A woozy southern accent slurred into the mouthpiece, stumbling from the voice of a barely conscious man. He rolled onto his side and steadied himself with his good arm, breathing and wheezing heavily. The nausea would pass soon enough, it always did- having several thousand volts coursing through your body tended to kick-start the sobering process- and with any luck, the rattling in his skull would settle too. How long had he been out for? "Christ... What happened?"
"You dropped off, man! Ya phone went dark! We thought we'd last ya!"
Stumbling to his feet, Cole rubbed his temple with his wrist, hoping to free up the blood in his head. It was all coming back to him now. The rooftop. The Militia. The fall. Man, now the pain was all coming back.
"Yeah man, I remember. I was crossing the city over the old tramline. Was jumped by some of Bertrand's boys again. Nothing I couldn't handle...."
Damn, something was missing. There was something he had forgotten. A book was missing from the shelf, but the dust mark remained. How did he end up passed out in an alley on the opposite side of New Marais?
"Then there was this... light?"
"A light? The Militia is shipping in flash grenades now?"
"Nah Nah Nah. It was brighter than that. And it wasn't some bomb... it was..."
Cole made a slow turn, knowing what he was going to see long before his eyes locked with it. He squinted preemptively, anticipating the glowing white void of the-
"Portal. A portal"
A second voice echoed from Cole's bag, one with a far greater composure than the man before her. Somewhere on a rooftop across the city, Lucy Kuo bit her lip as she paced, speaking into a standard-issue government phone; even with the damage to his speakers, the strength of her untrackable device sent her words to the alleyway loud and clear.
"Cole, get out of there. Zeke filled me in on the situation. One of our sensors is picking up some insane readings on the other side of it. Head back to the rooftop and we'll try to get some more intel"
Cole pondered for a moment, taking a moment to absorb Kuo's advice. She knew what she was doing- she always had. Ever since the three of them had arrived in New Marais, she had helped anchor him and Zeke, acting as a conscience for the two men and keeping them on the straight and now. As his powers grew, it became easier and easier to take the easy way out. He could fry a mugger beyond recognition. He could intimidate his way to the top. If he was bored, he could always play catch with a car or take an ice-slide joyride across the freeway. The more powerful he became, the more powerful the desires to surrender to his whims became. But no matter how many volts he could throw through the air, Kuo had never been afraid of him. She was always ready to shut him down and remind him what was right and what was wrong, while never commanding him or trying to profit from his strength. Usually, he would take her words for twice their value, but now...
"Cole? You still there?"
"Did Wolfe say anything about the Ray Sphere cracking open giant space portals? You've read his research- what does he say about this?"
Kuo went quiet, retreating into her mind and searching through the thousands of mental files she stored between her ears. Thousands of Government case files, thousands of novels and page after page of Dr.Wolfe's work seemed to flash through her mind as she thought back...
"Not that I remember, no. He didn't anticipate anything like this, but that doesn't mean it's not possible. He didn't finish his research he--'"
Cole leaned back, cracked his neck and sucked in a deep break, drinking in the all too familiar smog of the city. Forget the rules. Forget the logic. It was time to do something fun for once.
"Then I'm going in"
A chorus erupted from his phone yet again. A symphony of voices seemed to merge together into one singular voice, telling him that his plan was stupid and that it wouldn't work- which was just the way he liked it.
"If this ain't a conduit thing, then whatever is keeping that door open clearly wants to say hi- might as well say hi back?"
"Cole!" Kou pleaded down the phone, her familiar authority clinging to every world "We don't even know it's a door, you're jumping to conclusions! It could easily be a trap sent to fry you to oblivion-"
"Ah!" Cole exclaimed, walking towards the light "I've been fried before and I'll be fried again, so might as well spring this trap and find out who come's to collect the spoils. I'll catch up with you in an hour. Tell Zeke to save me a slice---"
---
Armstrong
"Jesus F*CKING Christ!" Senator Armstrong cried staring down the pitiful bunch before him "Little Green Men? Now I really have seen it all..." He rolled his eyes back and let out a smokey sigh, rolling the tip of a cigar between his lips. One minute he's making a speech to voters, the next he's on some magical flying island with a bunch of half-pints and slug-men? Shit like this made him miss all the handshaking. Pinching his cigar between his fingers, he dropped it at his feet and stomped it under his shoe, grinding the ash beneath his shoe. Part of him had regretted lighting it to begin with- not for any fears for his health or not wanting to choke the other 'heroes'- but because now, fueled by a simple change of mind, he no longer wanted to deal with the hassle of getting his point across with a roll of paper in his mouth.
"Looks like you've got a pest problem, Green Guy. And you're better off bringing in an army, not these..." He started over the frames of his glasses, eying the children at his feet "Midgets... Hire a PMC, maybe? Big guns, tanks, maybe a nuke or two for good measure?" He reached into his jacket and removed a small, black business card. He held the chrome card between his fingers, noting the simplicity and elegance of its design; eight words in crimson and a number- nothing more and nothing less. What more needed to be said.
WORLD MARSHALL INC.
WARFARE TO END WARFARE
DENVER
"Good thing I know some people who can help. You give them a call, I'll see to it you get a discount" He threw the card at Piccolo's feet and turned his back towards the alien. He let out a sharp bellow, throwing his head back in artificial humor "I don't care how many 'planets' this man can destroy, I doubt he can't stand up to a wall of hot, American lead. Believe me, pal; very few things can"
@Alex Azure @Crow @Raynar Saassin
---
Cole MacGrath"Hello Aigis. My name is Dende, thank you for coming through, despite these current circumstances." Dende responded as he approached the new arrival and welcomed her.
View attachment 2983
"(Just who is this guy? He somehow has access to our race via that weird watch of his? Impossible. That doesn't even seem possible, not even Bulma could of designed such technology. Is this all a game to him?)" "Hey, what's all the ruckus?" "Yeah, we were in the middle of training, you losers." Came two voices from the distance as another Z Warrior had arrived, or two in this case.
"Vegeta!" "Oh, it's you. Thought you'd be training with Trunks over there in your Gravity Chamber." "We would be, if Dende here didn't call us midway through and distract the boy. You have any idea how important training is to a Saiyan?" "Yeah, we were training me for the World Martial Arts Tournament, Junior's Devision before you called. What's even the problem? And who are all these losers?" "Clearly this must be important if you called all these children. Earthlings cannot compare to the power of a Super Saiyan."
@Crow @Alex Azure @Jeremi @Minerva
"Wait, wait, wait" Cole raised his hands in front of him, almost in surrender as opposed to shock "This guy can destroy planets?" This was bad news. Cole had fought monsters before. He had gone toe to toe with the Bertrand. He had traded blows his Kessler. He had even toppled the Beast, a demon with the power the wide entire city's off the map. But the prospect of wiping away an entire planet with just a click of his fingers? Whatever powers this Cell-guy had, Cole knew he was bad news...
So why was he smiling? Why did a strange excitement seem to bubble from the depths of his chest, filling him with energy and zeal? The prospect of cutting loose again, being free to fight again, just like the old days? Something had been missing since the Beast fell, and it could be summed up in one word- challenge.
"I'm in" Cole cracked his knuckles, letting a river of blue lightning dance across his fingers. "If this guy is as strong as you, I guess its everyone's problem, right? Might as well chip in...Name's Cole by the way... Cole MacGrath"
By the time Vegeta arrived on the scene, all Cole could muster was a roll of his eyes. This 'Saiyan' guy struck Cole as being trouble beyond a shadow of a doubt. He seemed strong sure- even with his powers, Cole could sense the energy radiating from Vegeta- it was almost electrical. But his attitude was too much like his once upon a time- the power had gone to the man's head, but beyond that, it had defined him. It was unhealthy, to say the least, but beyond that, it was dangerous.
"Maybe don't look at a gift horse, buddy- from what I can tell you need all the help you can get. Otherwise, you would have already defeated 'Cell' on your own"
@Crow @Alex Azure @Jeremi @Minerva
