City of Heroes: Hands of The Clock
Rating (whole story): PG-13, for fantasy violence, deaths, mild language and use of a fictional drug.
Copyright Issues: City of Heroes is © 2002 NCsoft Corporation and Cryptic Studios, Inc. All rights reserved.
City of Heroes is a trademark or registered trademark of NCsoft Corporation.
Chapter 1
It was going to be a night to remember. Freakshow, a gang devoted to the use of cybernetic implants and causing general chaos, had decided it was time they moved into Boomtown. And the particular area they chose just happened to be Outcast territory. Now, of course, the Outcasts didn't appreciate this. It was bad enough they were constantly at war for territory with those half-witted, ugly, Trolls, and with the constant threat of one of those spandex clad Heroes dropping out of the sky and sending a bunch of their Brothers to the slammer. Now the Freakshow had decided to move in on them. This was too much Jose "Ringer" Sanchez. Ringer, who earned his nickname and position of Lieutenant for always being a ringleader and rallying up some Outcast to beat up some Trolls, knew a thing or two about nipping territory grabs in the bud. He knew those Freakshow guys were stronger than he and his men, but they were willing die for the Outcasts, and a large group with that mentality was a force to be reckoned with.
Ringer and his men crept quietly into the ruined 3-story-now-2 office building, wanting to keep the element of surprise. He took one quick glance back outside at the gray and lifeless Baumton, or more commonly known as 'Boomtown'. Torched buildings, overturned cars, charred roads, crumbling overpasses, bent street signs, and twisted monorail tracks filled his field of vision along with the distant blue glow of the force field wall that enclosed Boomtown. To most, this would be a scene of Pseudo-post- apocalyptic horror. Few, if any civilians ever came here. The Heroes only used the place to train themselves, and would get out as soon as possible. To Ringer, this provided a sense of comfort. It was a reminder to him, and the rest of Paragon City, that the do-gooders didn't always win. Sometimes, they lost. Sometimes, they lost big. During the war against the Rikti, a malevolent race of aliens, many Heroes had died in this area, seared to the bones by the superior energy weapons the Rikti brandished, and had torched the area, sparing no one.
Turning back to the dark doorway to the lifeless structure, Ringer mentally prepared himself for the fight ahead. He was going to win against these Freaks, or at least take out as many of them as he could before he went down. The dusty, crumbling walls; sprayed, melted or broken support beams and caved in ceilings quickly gave one the distinct impression that the building was ready to collapse at any time. Under normal circumstances, the building would have been condemned. In these circumstances, the whole district was condemned.
They walked down the hallway, and turned a corner, and down that hall, dimly lit by a few beams of light coming through some cracks in a wall, were three smirking Freaks, waiting for them. The one in front had a mechanical arm that ended in a large sledgehammer head. The two standing behind him had replaced their arm with a robotic scythe.
"So, you wimps finally arrive, huh?" said Sledgehammer.
Ringer focused his power, and allowed some electricity to dance from fingertip to fingertip. "You only brought three?" he asked.
The Freak scoffed. "Well, I was gonna come clean you guys out myself, but these two said they were bored so they tagged along." The other two chuckled.
Ringer wasn't deterred by their taunts. He brought a dozen of some of his best boys, whom he had confidence in. Together, he felt they could handle these insane cyborgs. "I think we need to teach these guys who they're dealing with," he said to his fellow Outcasts, "anyone happen to know any pawn shops that buy busted up implants?" That got a roar of hoots and laughs from his men.
Sledgehammer lifted his arm and began to charge forward, and his cronies followed. Ringer charged his fists with electricity, and his switchblade dug hard in his belt, as his boys drew their weapons and got ready. But for some reason, the Freaks seemed to be taking longer than they should have to have made it down the hallway. Now that he paid attention, their movements seemed to be slowing down, but not like an action movie going into bullet- time. This all became clearer as the cracks of light seemed to becoming steadily brighter, and Ringer could start to hear a strange chopping noise. With both legs in the air too long, instead of stepping, one of the Scythes tumbled to the ground. One beam of light landed on Sledgehammer's face, whose expression changed from mild confusion, to frustration, to suspicion, to more confusion, and fear as he slowed to a stop.
Ringer was surprised by a feeling of pain in his side, and glanced down to where he kept his switchblade, which now seemed to be digging very hard into him.
"Ringer!" One of his boys called out. He turned and found his men with weapons wavering furiously, scared and confused looks on their faces.
"Don't be afraid!" He called to them. As strange as this situation was, he needed his men to be focused and calm to take advantage of this moment of weakness for the Freaks.
"We're not!" One Outcast called back, "It's our weapons... they're trying to get out of our hands!" The light grew brighter, and the sound louder.
Ringer was about to say something when a sharp pain in his side forced him back to his switchblade, which was now starting to open and was cutting his skin. He quickly pulled it out, and it sprung open. Startled, he loosened his grasp of it, and it flew out of his hand and stuck itself on the wall to his left. But it wasn't lodged into the wall with the blade, but instead had flattened itself against the wall, and stayed there like something was holding it in place. The rest of the Outcasts lost their grip on their weapons, and they too flew out of their hands and pinned themselves against the wall. The light grew so bright the previously dark corridor was now quite illuminated, and the sound was becoming extremely loud. It became a cacophony like a fleet of helicopters of many sizes was hovering overhead, armed with roaring buzz saws and a variety of clocks.
A grunt of pain brought Ringer's attention back to the Freaks, whose mechanical arms were outstretched toward the wall the light was shining through. Each one had the look of extreme strain of their faces, as if they were fighting something. Slowly, then more rapidly, each one began to skid towards the wall, despite their efforts otherwise. One was pulled off his feet and hovered in the air for an instant, then was pulled right through the wall. The other two quickly followed, looking like someone being blown out the airlock in a sci-fi movie. From the sound of their distant screams, they were pulled very far into the air.
Gusts of wind hammered the building, seeming to be the only thing not heading the direction of the light, but away from it.
"Ringer!" One Outcast called, pointing towards the assortment of guns and blades that had formed a pile on the wall. They were pressing against the wall so hard that cracks had begun to form. The cracks spread, and wall gave in, the weapons 'falling' through it, and up outside somewhere.
A strange metallic groan made Ringer spin around just in time to see an exposed support girder bend, and as it did, a chunk of concrete broke off the ceiling and fell on the head of one unprepared Outcast, killing him instantly.
"GET OUT NOW!" Ringer bellowed. And they all began to run for the entrance, except one, who happened to have an oversized belt buckle, which he was now being pulled by towards the hole the Freaks had torn in the wall. Ringer dashed towards him. "Take it off now!"
"I'm trying! I'm trying!" The gang member shouted in a panic, then began to cuss and repeat "Oh God, get it off, get it off!" The gang member's speed began to accelerate, and before Ringer could do anything, he was yanked off his feet and pulled out the hole.
Thrashing in midair, being pulled at a high speed toward a blinding light in the sky with a deafening beating noise surrounding him and furious winds whipping at him, the poor gang member struggled to get the belt off. A pain began to run through his body, as he got closer to the light, as if something was ripping his circulatory system out. Finally, he undid the belt buckle, which shot upwards. But his moment of victory was too late. The belt buckle took the belt with it, and the force of it shooting off of his pants at that speed caused him to spin like a top. He lost his lunch, and the moment hit the ground, he lost his life.
The Outcasts hurried through the building, which was now crumbling and falling apart at an alarming rate. Several hallways had caved in, forcing them to find alternate routes. Everywhere he went, girders and supports were bending and twisting. One broke free, and flew down a hallway, impaling two of his boys in the process and pulling them along, pinning them to a wall for a few moments before the wall crumbled and they were pulled through.
Finally, they dashed out of the building, and saw above them an incredibly bright light that filled the sky. The noise was deafening. The winds were of such force that a gust could knock one off their feet. An earsplitting sound of tearing metal came from overhead, and they looked up in time to see a series of girders rip out of the building, and chucks of concrete rain down. Three outcasts who had run ahead of the group suddenly found themselves in the trajectory of the largest chunk, which quickly found itself on the ground, directly where they had been running. Ringer wanted to believe that they had dodged aside and were obscured by the clouds of dust that surrounded them, but he knew better.
The ground shook, knocking Ringer and a few others off their feet. Suddenly, a fissure split the ground his men had been laying on, and they fell under. He dived forward to grab of their hands, but missed. Trying to see they were all right, if they had not fallen far, He started to look over the crack. But as he did, there was a sudden sharp pain in the back of his head as a small chunk hit him. The world began to melt into an oil painting and turned black.
Rating (whole story): PG-13, for fantasy violence, deaths, mild language and use of a fictional drug.
Copyright Issues: City of Heroes is © 2002 NCsoft Corporation and Cryptic Studios, Inc. All rights reserved.
City of Heroes is a trademark or registered trademark of NCsoft Corporation.
Chapter 1
It was going to be a night to remember. Freakshow, a gang devoted to the use of cybernetic implants and causing general chaos, had decided it was time they moved into Boomtown. And the particular area they chose just happened to be Outcast territory. Now, of course, the Outcasts didn't appreciate this. It was bad enough they were constantly at war for territory with those half-witted, ugly, Trolls, and with the constant threat of one of those spandex clad Heroes dropping out of the sky and sending a bunch of their Brothers to the slammer. Now the Freakshow had decided to move in on them. This was too much Jose "Ringer" Sanchez. Ringer, who earned his nickname and position of Lieutenant for always being a ringleader and rallying up some Outcast to beat up some Trolls, knew a thing or two about nipping territory grabs in the bud. He knew those Freakshow guys were stronger than he and his men, but they were willing die for the Outcasts, and a large group with that mentality was a force to be reckoned with.
Ringer and his men crept quietly into the ruined 3-story-now-2 office building, wanting to keep the element of surprise. He took one quick glance back outside at the gray and lifeless Baumton, or more commonly known as 'Boomtown'. Torched buildings, overturned cars, charred roads, crumbling overpasses, bent street signs, and twisted monorail tracks filled his field of vision along with the distant blue glow of the force field wall that enclosed Boomtown. To most, this would be a scene of Pseudo-post- apocalyptic horror. Few, if any civilians ever came here. The Heroes only used the place to train themselves, and would get out as soon as possible. To Ringer, this provided a sense of comfort. It was a reminder to him, and the rest of Paragon City, that the do-gooders didn't always win. Sometimes, they lost. Sometimes, they lost big. During the war against the Rikti, a malevolent race of aliens, many Heroes had died in this area, seared to the bones by the superior energy weapons the Rikti brandished, and had torched the area, sparing no one.
Turning back to the dark doorway to the lifeless structure, Ringer mentally prepared himself for the fight ahead. He was going to win against these Freaks, or at least take out as many of them as he could before he went down. The dusty, crumbling walls; sprayed, melted or broken support beams and caved in ceilings quickly gave one the distinct impression that the building was ready to collapse at any time. Under normal circumstances, the building would have been condemned. In these circumstances, the whole district was condemned.
They walked down the hallway, and turned a corner, and down that hall, dimly lit by a few beams of light coming through some cracks in a wall, were three smirking Freaks, waiting for them. The one in front had a mechanical arm that ended in a large sledgehammer head. The two standing behind him had replaced their arm with a robotic scythe.
"So, you wimps finally arrive, huh?" said Sledgehammer.
Ringer focused his power, and allowed some electricity to dance from fingertip to fingertip. "You only brought three?" he asked.
The Freak scoffed. "Well, I was gonna come clean you guys out myself, but these two said they were bored so they tagged along." The other two chuckled.
Ringer wasn't deterred by their taunts. He brought a dozen of some of his best boys, whom he had confidence in. Together, he felt they could handle these insane cyborgs. "I think we need to teach these guys who they're dealing with," he said to his fellow Outcasts, "anyone happen to know any pawn shops that buy busted up implants?" That got a roar of hoots and laughs from his men.
Sledgehammer lifted his arm and began to charge forward, and his cronies followed. Ringer charged his fists with electricity, and his switchblade dug hard in his belt, as his boys drew their weapons and got ready. But for some reason, the Freaks seemed to be taking longer than they should have to have made it down the hallway. Now that he paid attention, their movements seemed to be slowing down, but not like an action movie going into bullet- time. This all became clearer as the cracks of light seemed to becoming steadily brighter, and Ringer could start to hear a strange chopping noise. With both legs in the air too long, instead of stepping, one of the Scythes tumbled to the ground. One beam of light landed on Sledgehammer's face, whose expression changed from mild confusion, to frustration, to suspicion, to more confusion, and fear as he slowed to a stop.
Ringer was surprised by a feeling of pain in his side, and glanced down to where he kept his switchblade, which now seemed to be digging very hard into him.
"Ringer!" One of his boys called out. He turned and found his men with weapons wavering furiously, scared and confused looks on their faces.
"Don't be afraid!" He called to them. As strange as this situation was, he needed his men to be focused and calm to take advantage of this moment of weakness for the Freaks.
"We're not!" One Outcast called back, "It's our weapons... they're trying to get out of our hands!" The light grew brighter, and the sound louder.
Ringer was about to say something when a sharp pain in his side forced him back to his switchblade, which was now starting to open and was cutting his skin. He quickly pulled it out, and it sprung open. Startled, he loosened his grasp of it, and it flew out of his hand and stuck itself on the wall to his left. But it wasn't lodged into the wall with the blade, but instead had flattened itself against the wall, and stayed there like something was holding it in place. The rest of the Outcasts lost their grip on their weapons, and they too flew out of their hands and pinned themselves against the wall. The light grew so bright the previously dark corridor was now quite illuminated, and the sound was becoming extremely loud. It became a cacophony like a fleet of helicopters of many sizes was hovering overhead, armed with roaring buzz saws and a variety of clocks.
A grunt of pain brought Ringer's attention back to the Freaks, whose mechanical arms were outstretched toward the wall the light was shining through. Each one had the look of extreme strain of their faces, as if they were fighting something. Slowly, then more rapidly, each one began to skid towards the wall, despite their efforts otherwise. One was pulled off his feet and hovered in the air for an instant, then was pulled right through the wall. The other two quickly followed, looking like someone being blown out the airlock in a sci-fi movie. From the sound of their distant screams, they were pulled very far into the air.
Gusts of wind hammered the building, seeming to be the only thing not heading the direction of the light, but away from it.
"Ringer!" One Outcast called, pointing towards the assortment of guns and blades that had formed a pile on the wall. They were pressing against the wall so hard that cracks had begun to form. The cracks spread, and wall gave in, the weapons 'falling' through it, and up outside somewhere.
A strange metallic groan made Ringer spin around just in time to see an exposed support girder bend, and as it did, a chunk of concrete broke off the ceiling and fell on the head of one unprepared Outcast, killing him instantly.
"GET OUT NOW!" Ringer bellowed. And they all began to run for the entrance, except one, who happened to have an oversized belt buckle, which he was now being pulled by towards the hole the Freaks had torn in the wall. Ringer dashed towards him. "Take it off now!"
"I'm trying! I'm trying!" The gang member shouted in a panic, then began to cuss and repeat "Oh God, get it off, get it off!" The gang member's speed began to accelerate, and before Ringer could do anything, he was yanked off his feet and pulled out the hole.
Thrashing in midair, being pulled at a high speed toward a blinding light in the sky with a deafening beating noise surrounding him and furious winds whipping at him, the poor gang member struggled to get the belt off. A pain began to run through his body, as he got closer to the light, as if something was ripping his circulatory system out. Finally, he undid the belt buckle, which shot upwards. But his moment of victory was too late. The belt buckle took the belt with it, and the force of it shooting off of his pants at that speed caused him to spin like a top. He lost his lunch, and the moment hit the ground, he lost his life.
The Outcasts hurried through the building, which was now crumbling and falling apart at an alarming rate. Several hallways had caved in, forcing them to find alternate routes. Everywhere he went, girders and supports were bending and twisting. One broke free, and flew down a hallway, impaling two of his boys in the process and pulling them along, pinning them to a wall for a few moments before the wall crumbled and they were pulled through.
Finally, they dashed out of the building, and saw above them an incredibly bright light that filled the sky. The noise was deafening. The winds were of such force that a gust could knock one off their feet. An earsplitting sound of tearing metal came from overhead, and they looked up in time to see a series of girders rip out of the building, and chucks of concrete rain down. Three outcasts who had run ahead of the group suddenly found themselves in the trajectory of the largest chunk, which quickly found itself on the ground, directly where they had been running. Ringer wanted to believe that they had dodged aside and were obscured by the clouds of dust that surrounded them, but he knew better.
The ground shook, knocking Ringer and a few others off their feet. Suddenly, a fissure split the ground his men had been laying on, and they fell under. He dived forward to grab of their hands, but missed. Trying to see they were all right, if they had not fallen far, He started to look over the crack. But as he did, there was a sudden sharp pain in the back of his head as a small chunk hit him. The world began to melt into an oil painting and turned black.