When the particle accelerator exploded, lives were changed forever. But not all those people were villains and Star Labs aren't the only ones fighting. There's another team working behind the scenes: individuals who are struggling in this messed up world to find some resemblance of normality.
Every mess needs a cleanup crew.
I still need OC's for my story. So far I have three of them. I'll need about two or three more heroes, but the need for villains is endless. Just fill out the form in the first chapter.
*For occupation I could really use a scientist and a cop, but if it doesn't fit with your character that's fine*
A prologue:
The bar was small and warm, lit only by the strands of sunlight filtering through the wall of posters taped to the windows. On one end a tall bar was nestled into the corner, and on the other a smattering of furniture meant to draw the eye and comfort the restless. Alcohol fumes clung to the carpet, hung in the air, and even bragged of their strength along the streets outside.
A lone barman darted through the room. Behind him rang the sounds of clinking glass and squeaking furniture as he bounced from place to place, straightening and cleaning and fidgeting.
He enjoyed the quite of the morning. It was too early for the partiers and the drunks, and though he couldn't tell you how completely enjoyable it was to have to clean drunken vomit from the carpet and break up alcohol induced squabbles every night, he was more than happy to take some time for himself and prep for the day.
"Oh, for fucks sake," he muttered sourly to the chair at his side. "I swear if this is more weed I'm smoking it here and now and whoever lost it can go-"…
He trailed off, swooping up the small canister lodged between the chair and the wall. It definitely wasn't weed that was for sure. He wasn't really sure what it was. Which was strange, because Jasper liked to think he had an answer for everything.
It felt cool underneath his touch, despite the thick stuffiness of the room. Running a thumb over it, he found there were tiny indents along the side he could barely see. He played with it, pushing, twisting, and pulling.
"What the…" There were no curse words profound enough to explain the curiosity and confusion. Frustrated, he hit it sharply against the end of the chair.
Then it clicked. Literally.
The canister popped open and a vial the size of a hamster slid onto the seat.
The liquid inside was a warm yellow, similar to the color of good scotch, he decided as he peered at it. There were little bits floating inside too, black and red, fizzing and jumping like they were alive.
"Definitely not weed then…"
Jasper kept the vial in his pocket for the rest of his day. Though his night was filled with drunken outbursts, rushed orders, two morons puking, and a whole lot of flirting, his mind was never far from the mystery.
He never had the time to figure it out though.
He knew working so close to a nerdy lab was a bad idea.
The explosion took the windows with it. Furniture was blown across the room, sending two stragglers into the wall. Jasper himself was blasted from his feet and straight into the shelves of alcohol. Liquor drenched him. Glass crunched underneath his back. Agony went searing through his body.
And in his pocket the vial shattered.
