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Prince Charon · 02-19-2018, 01:17 PM

Speed Bump

June 26, 2013
South Florida
Earth One (Infopunk Earth)

The general attitude of local and regional police personnel in the USA(1) towards superheroes, even those of us affiliated with licensed NGOs, tends to fall into four main categories:

1. 'We don't need you freaks.'

2. 'We don't want you freaks, but we need you to deal with those other freaks.'

3. 'We need all the help we can get, even if the help is a little (or a lot) freaky.'

4. 'I don't like the way people call you guys freaks, but you need more training.'

The second and third sometimes overlap with an attitude toward a few individual supers of 'You may be a freak, but you're our freak.' The situation can perhaps be likened to that experienced by any newly-arriving ethnic group, but is clearly not a perfect match - we come from all ethnicities, creeds, social strata, and walks of life, after all (though this doesn't stop some of the people who got their powers from reading too many X-Men comics from pulling the 'mutant race' card all the damn time). At least the first and second attitudes have mostly disappeared since I woke up after the failed attack on Yellowstone, but the cost is painful; a lot of Lanterns and other psykers died, or have yet to wake up. Some of the rings seem to have burnt out, but a lot of others went looking for replacements, which means we have a surge of rookies, on top of most of the 'experienced' surviving Lanterns being still in training, ourselves. At least those of us who joined the NGOs are getting training, and not running out to 'fight crime' with no idea what we're doing, and mostly making things harder for the cops (which the rest of us get flack for).

A related issue is that most superheroes, even the ones who are cops already, are more than a little idealistic (though far from saintly), rightly viewing the Blue Wall of Silence as a betrayal of the badge, and of the public trust. (The fact that so many of us are so idealistic, even if we're cynical in other areas, is something that a number of us wonder about. There's been talk of 'genre fairies' shaping our lives, which worries me. Are powered criminals being chosen for their criminal tendencies, or are they being compelled...?)

The point of all this reminiscing was to aid my multitasking skills and avoid thinking about my fear of heights (or rather, fear of decelleration trauma) as I hovered thirty feet above a retention pond, held up by sheer willpower... and a glowing green ring that had once been a common plastic toy that I bought on a whim some years ago. A few months ago, I would have made a fairly shocking sight: a flying man shrouded in an aura of translucent green flames, wearing mostly green and black US Army surplus riot armour, complete with three chevrons on each upper sleeve, a modified gas mask, a helmet, a utility belt, and an eccentric choice of sidearm (a S&W Governor, the only six-shot revolver I could find that would load and fire .410 bore shotgun shells - it could also handle .45 Long Colt, and .45 ACP with a moon clip, but I carried neither). Now, I still looked pretty odd for a Lantern (more of us tended to go more for spandex than body armour, or holograms over street clothes, despite many having colours or materials that our rings don't want to work on - a fact well-known to the criminal element, even if most of them only remember yellow), but thanks to so many of us flying around on the news, I wasn't completely bizarre.

The Bluetooth rang while I was starting to contemplate the view. "Hello?"

"Sorry to interrupt your break, Decurion," said Kelli-with-an-i, our duty dispatcher (I almost corrected her on the rank, the promotion too new, and the reason too raw), "but the cops need a little help: that speedster from yesterday is back, he robbed a RaceTrac this time. They're in pursuit, but he keeps going places cars and motorbikes can't. I'm sending the map data to your HUD, you're the closest flyer to the action."

Well then, my first supervillain (no, Dr. Implausible does not count - as a supervillain or a doctor - and the 'Rouge Angles of Satin' (yes, spelled like that) would not have been that much of a threat to the out-of-shape nerd I was before I got my powers). No partner either, because the politicians wanted maximum exposure to 'reassure the public,' and there just weren't enough of use to go around (also, possibly, they wanted to exercise their 'soft power' over us, to reassure themselves that they still could). "Understood," I replied, looking at the map. "Going to jet mode."

'Jet mode' was what you might call a macro that I'd programmed into my ring: as I shifted to horizontal flight with my arms to my sides, the ring projected a construct around me in the form of a 1/6th scale (a bit over 3 metres long) F-15 Eagle. In much dimmer light than this, you'd be able to see large, distorted cones attached to the air intakes, which swept moisture from the humid Florida air. Behind the intakes, the ring split hydrogen from oxygen, and behind my feet, electrical sparks and a construct catalyst energetically converted the hydrogen and oxygen back into water, while the other air brought in cooled the exhaust. Construct prisms on my helmet allowed me to see ahead with half my vision, and below with the other half. This complex action allowed me to fly higher and faster than I could under my own willpower, oddly enough, though I'm not sure whether it's due to my phobia, or my will not being strong enough. I suppose it could be both. I'm far from the only one who did this: many lanterns can't fly without a construct, whether due to mental blocks or insufficient willpower, and more cannot fly under their own power at all (though few of the latter join crime-fighting NGOs as active agents, since they tend to have weak shields and other effects, as well).

It didn't take more than a couple of minutes to reach the target area, and I saw a streak of yellow dart out between two buildings. "Ring, scan and record."

"Scanning," the ring replied, and information poured into my mind. Much to my surprise, he was a living person using his power to reinforce his body to move at greater speeds - in this case about 42 miles per hour, which seemed to be close to his top speed. It also appeared likely that he would be able to heal and recover faster, and based on yesterday's police report, hitting him with a taser just made him faster. I'd been expecting a spirit with psychokinesis, or a visible astral projection like Bluestreak in Orlando, because physical speedsters are rare. For a moment I was distracted consider the implications, but shook myself out of it. Capture bad guy now, I thought, figure out how to replicate what he does later.

Catching speedsters is generally pretty tricky, because they almost always react faster than non-speedsters - otherwise they'd keep tripping over or running into things. So, while seeing him was useful, I needed to know where he was going to be, and how he would to react. I've got two ways to 'trick' my semi-randomly activating Second Sight into acting like directed precognition. The slow way, with Tarot cards, is useless in situations like that, but the fast way, using just the ring, leaves me feeling like I've run a marathon, which is not good in flight. I reinforced the hover effect that supplements my construct's wings at low speed, and concentrated...

02-19-2018, 01:17 PM	#564
Prince Charon Join Date: Dec 2012	Re: Five Earths, All in a Row Speed Bump June 26, 2013 South Florida Earth One (Infopunk Earth) The general attitude of local and regional police personnel in the USA(1) towards superheroes, even those of us affiliated with licensed NGOs, tends to fall into four main categories: 1. 'We don't need you freaks.' 2. 'We don't want you freaks, but we need you to deal with those other freaks.' 3. 'We need all the help we can get, even if the help is a little (or a lot) freaky.' 4. 'I don't like the way people call you guys freaks, but you need more training.' The second and third sometimes overlap with an attitude toward a few individual supers of 'You may be a freak, but you're our freak.' The situation can perhaps be likened to that experienced by any newly-arriving ethnic group, but is clearly not a perfect match - we come from all ethnicities, creeds, social strata, and walks of life, after all (though this doesn't stop some of the people who got their powers from reading too many X-Men comics from pulling the 'mutant race' card all the damn time). At least the first and second attitudes have mostly disappeared since I woke up after the failed attack on Yellowstone, but the cost is painful; a lot of Lanterns and other psykers died, or have yet to wake up. Some of the rings seem to have burnt out, but a lot of others went looking for replacements, which means we have a surge of rookies, on top of most of the 'experienced' surviving Lanterns being still in training, ourselves. At least those of us who joined the NGOs are getting training, and not running out to 'fight crime' with no idea what we're doing, and mostly making things harder for the cops (which the rest of us get flack for). A related issue is that most superheroes, even the ones who are cops already, are more than a little idealistic (though far from saintly), rightly viewing the Blue Wall of Silence as a betrayal of the badge, and of the public trust. (The fact that so many of us are so idealistic, even if we're cynical in other areas, is something that a number of us wonder about. There's been talk of 'genre fairies' shaping our lives, which worries me. Are powered criminals being chosen for their criminal tendencies, or are they being compelled...?) The point of all this reminiscing was to aid my multitasking skills and avoid thinking about my fear of heights (or rather, fear of decelleration trauma) as I hovered thirty feet above a retention pond, held up by sheer willpower... and a glowing green ring that had once been a common plastic toy that I bought on a whim some years ago. A few months ago, I would have made a fairly shocking sight: a flying man shrouded in an aura of translucent green flames, wearing mostly green and black US Army surplus riot armour, complete with three chevrons on each upper sleeve, a modified gas mask, a helmet, a utility belt, and an eccentric choice of sidearm (a S&W Governor, the only six-shot revolver I could find that would load and fire .410 bore shotgun shells - it could also handle .45 Long Colt, and .45 ACP with a moon clip, but I carried neither). Now, I still looked pretty odd for a Lantern (more of us tended to go more for spandex than body armour, or holograms over street clothes, despite many having colours or materials that our rings don't want to work on - a fact well-known to the criminal element, even if most of them only remember yellow), but thanks to so many of us flying around on the news, I wasn't completely bizarre. The Bluetooth rang while I was starting to contemplate the view. "Hello?" "Sorry to interrupt your break, Decurion," said Kelli-with-an-i, our duty dispatcher (I almost corrected her on the rank, the promotion too new, and the reason too raw), "but the cops need a little help: that speedster from yesterday is back, he robbed a RaceTrac this time. They're in pursuit, but he keeps going places cars and motorbikes can't. I'm sending the map data to your HUD, you're the closest flyer to the action." Well then, my first supervillain (no, Dr. Implausible does not count - as a supervillain or a doctor - and the 'Rouge Angles of Satin' (yes, spelled like that) would not have been that much of a threat to the out-of-shape nerd I was before I got my powers). No partner either, because the politicians wanted maximum exposure to 'reassure the public,' and there just weren't enough of use to go around (also, possibly, they wanted to exercise their 'soft power' over us, to reassure themselves that they still could). "Understood," I replied, looking at the map. "Going to jet mode." 'Jet mode' was what you might call a macro that I'd programmed into my ring: as I shifted to horizontal flight with my arms to my sides, the ring projected a construct around me in the form of a 1/6th scale (a bit over 3 metres long) F-15 Eagle. In much dimmer light than this, you'd be able to see large, distorted cones attached to the air intakes, which swept moisture from the humid Florida air. Behind the intakes, the ring split hydrogen from oxygen, and behind my feet, electrical sparks and a construct catalyst energetically converted the hydrogen and oxygen back into water, while the other air brought in cooled the exhaust. Construct prisms on my helmet allowed me to see ahead with half my vision, and below with the other half. This complex action allowed me to fly higher and faster than I could under my own willpower, oddly enough, though I'm not sure whether it's due to my phobia, or my will not being strong enough. I suppose it could be both. I'm far from the only one who did this: many lanterns can't fly without a construct, whether due to mental blocks or insufficient willpower, and more cannot fly under their own power at all (though few of the latter join crime-fighting NGOs as active agents, since they tend to have weak shields and other effects, as well). It didn't take more than a couple of minutes to reach the target area, and I saw a streak of yellow dart out between two buildings. "Ring, scan and record." "Scanning," the ring replied, and information poured into my mind. Much to my surprise, he was a living person using his power to reinforce his body to move at greater speeds - in this case about 42 miles per hour, which seemed to be close to his top speed. It also appeared likely that he would be able to heal and recover faster, and based on yesterday's police report, hitting him with a taser just made him faster. I'd been expecting a spirit with psychokinesis, or a visible astral projection like Bluestreak in Orlando, because physical speedsters are rare. For a moment I was distracted consider the implications, but shook myself out of it. Capture bad guy now, I thought, figure out how to replicate what he does later. Catching speedsters is generally pretty tricky, because they almost always react faster than non-speedsters - otherwise they'd keep tripping over or running into things. So, while seeing him was useful, I needed to know where he was going to be, and how he would to react. I've got two ways to 'trick' my semi-randomly activating Second Sight into acting like directed precognition. The slow way, with Tarot cards, is useless in situations like that, but the fast way, using just the ring, leaves me feeling like I've run a marathon, which is not good in flight. I reinforced the hover effect that supplements my construct's wings at low speed, and *concentrated... __________________ Warning, I have the Distractible and Imaginative quirks in real life.* "The more corrupt a government, the more it legislates." -- Tacitus Five Earths, All in a Row. Updated 12/17/2022: Apocrypha: Bridges out of Time, Part I has been posted. Last edited by Prince Charon; 02-20-2018 at 06:30 PM.