Guest Worldmaker Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Aurora. Written by Conrad Davis, Aurora's Player. "And then," Halldor said through his laughter, "of course that is when Anna showed back up at camp! You should have seen Bjorn's face as he tried to cover himself. I think he was even more red than he is now!"" The rest of the group joined in the hilarity, and Anna reached across the hand-made oak table to pat Bjorn's arm. "There, there," she said, "I'm not scarred for life, you know. In fact, it's given me quite a pleasant memory." Bjorn's cheeks burned all the more and he couldn't bring himself to look Anna in the face, though he was still chuckling. Gudrun stood, and her chair groaned as it slid on the kitchen's tiled floor. She surveyed her children and their friends while offering them another round of beer. Her boys, Bjorn and Halldor had grown into fine men, and she expected Anna would be joining the family soon as the elder son's wife. The younger one had brought his star-struck college buddies, Kjartan, Hinrik, and Johanna, to meet his famous elder sister. Annfrid was the star of the family, in more ways than one. Known as Aurora to the rest of the world, she burned with a golden light that illuminated the kitchen like a hundred-watt bulb. Even without this incandescent indication that she was more than human, Annfrid's face was on a hundred magazines the world around. Everyone knew who Aurora was: one of the world's most powerful metahumans, a member of _the_ superteam, the Global Guardians. The fame came with problems, of course. Gudrun despaired of ever having a son-in-law-let alone grandchildren-by way of her daughter. And, the family's patriarch, Sigurd, was even now chasing paparazzi out of the sheep pen behind the farmhouse. Despite these impediments, they were all fiercely proud of Annfrid and delighted that she could spend a few hours with them on an otherwise dreary September morning. And so, Gudrun frowned as she realized that Annfrid had turned from the conversation and was muttering to herself. Rather, she was talking to the other Guardians through their amazing bionic communicators. From her daughter's expression, it wasn't good news. It was never good news. Therefore, it was no shock to Gudrun when Annfrid stood and bluntly proclaimed, "I am sorry everyone, but I must go. There is trouble in America." And with that, she was gone. The Guardians' teleporter whisked her away with a metallic hum and a cascade of silvery light. Annfrid reappeared about thirty thousand feet above Boston. She hovered for a second or two while she waited for that annoying tingling sensation the teleporter always left her with to subside. Then, she began flying in an ever-widening drunken zigzag pattern over the port city and the country to its west. "We may have a developing situation on the American east coast," Achilles had said. "We have two hijacked airliners - both out of Boston - both heading to Los Angeles. We need some high-speed coverage to find those planes." It never ceased to amaze her how many airceaft cruised the skies over America. In just five or six minutes, she counted over twenty passenger jets headed to or from Boston's Logan Airport. Fortunately, Melody had the airline and flight number information, and it was pretty easy to distinguish United and American's logos from the rest at a distance. With Melody acting as a communications relay with the control towers on the ground, she quickly discounted plane after plane as she headed ever westward. Just as she was about to ask if Guardsman was in the area, Achilles' voice cut in over her communicator again. "Achilles to all Guardians. We have a situation. Report to the World Trade Center - full disaster mode. Aurora and Guardsman - keep looking for that other plane; but look in the New York area. If you find United Flight 175 - disable it and force it down. If I'm wrong, we can apologize later." "Orders received and understood: Aurora moving to New York attempting to intercept United one seven five," she answered, giving herself a mental kick in the backside for assuming the plane she was after would still be flying toward Los Angeles. Achilles hadn't given many details, but something very serious indeed had to have happened for him to be willing to risk downing a plane full of passengers in response. The air behind her roared and blazed with vented plasma as she veered northward and picked up speed. Her gaze cast about the sky, vainly seeking any sign of the stray aircraft. She was concentrating too hard to notice the brief turbulence as she shattered the sound barrier. The longer she searched, the worse she felt about the whole situation. Two planes hijacked at once, Achilles' urgency, his willingness to put lives in danger: this had to be more than a simple hijacking. Immediately, the name Tarot leapt unbidden to her mind. "Helveti," she muttered before broadcasting, "Melody, have we got access to any satellite or radar-oh, wait." An airplane bearing the stylized red and blue United U on its tail appeared out of a cloudbank beneath her. It was flying lower than she would have expected, and headed northward. She slowed down as rapidly as she could and swerved over to have a closer look. "Melody, I may have it," she transmitted after matching speeds with the jet's tail, trying not to allow herself to put too much stock in what could be a false hope. "I'm next to an aeroplane with the registration N, six, zero, five, seven, U, A stenciled on its side. Please tell me this is the correct plane." "I'm sorry, Aurora," came Melody's polite though passionless response, "I'd have to lie to comply with that request. You've found United one forty-four, I'm afraid." Aurora cursed silently. "Thank you, Melody. Would you please give me a brief situation report?" "Of course. An airplane believed to be American Airlines flight eleven has crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center. The top of the building is on fire. Achilles, Bungie, Maximan, Pharaoh, and Tachyon are on scene. The others are-" "Thank you, Melody," Aurora interrupted. "Inform Achilles that I am proceeding to the Trade Center post haste." "Helveti, helveti, helveti," she swore as she shot forward like a shining comet, leaving United 144 in the dust and startling its flight crew to no end. At over three times the speed of sound, the ground beneath her still seemed to crawl past at a snail's pace--and still no sign of the plane she was after! At roughly the same time that the grassy coastland below was replaced by mile upon mile of cityscape, she tasted blood. With a start, she realized that she'd chewed through her lower lip in anxiety. Sucking on the wound, she finally spotted her quarry. A dark shape seemed to hover ominously over the city's famous skyline, far too low for a normal flight plan. The airliner grew and took form as she approached it. It began banking hard left, obviously headed for the unwounded tower. The fiery Guardian reached out with her right hand and sent a blinding beam of crackling, white-hot plasma at its left engine. In an instant, the burning shaft pierced straight through the machine, which promptly caught fire and began trailing thick, black smoke. Still closing, Aurora prepared to destroy the remaining engine. At the last moment, though, her eyes widened at the thought of an aircraft plummeting into downtown New York. She reconsidered her plan of attack, and swerved to bring herself directly over the cockpit, almost lying on the airplane's metal skin. As soon as she was in position, she warped the light in front of the cockpit windows, trying to make it look like the airplane was banking too hard and going to miss its target. After a tense second, the plane began slowly yawing back toward the right. The hard left turn became shallower as the pilot attempted to correct what he thought was an erroneous course. The remaining engine wailed like a tortured thing and the right wing dipped lower and lower, but the skyscraper was now looming ahead like a gigantic mirrored wall. Aurora cried out bitterly as she realized that all she'd done was throw the aircraft off center. At the very last second, she dove off and fought to slow herself down. Her prismatic force field blazed to life around her. The airplane slammed into the tower with an almighty explosion. It deafened the Icelandic heroine, plunging her into a world of silence even as her momentum carried her into the enormous fireball. For a time, she was both blind and deaf, crashing through the wreckage in a surreal, timeless moment. Soon, though, the thunderous, rolling roar of the fire returned all at once. Aurora realized that nobody on the floor could have survived the impact, and she flew straight ahead until she hit daylight again. Bruised and battered, the shining Guardian watched the smoke roiling upward from the floor she'd just left. People in the floors above were looking out of their windows curiously, momentarily oblivious to the fact that they were trapped on top of an inferno. With her mouth set in a grim line, Aurora refused to dwell on what had just happened. There was time for that later; too many people needed her now. She floated up and twisted some sunlight in front of a window, forcing it to form a glowing sign that said "STAND BACK". The gawkers inside the building took a few moments to get the message, but they dutifully stepped out of the way. With a carefully controlled heat beam, Aurora melted the window away. Then, she floated inside. A shrieking fire alarm made it difficult to think, and she was briefly dismayed at how many people there were nearby. They were worried, but panic hadn't started to set in yet. Fighting to be heard above the din, Aurora created more holographic signs to display what she was yelling. "Everyone remain calm, please! There's been an explosion downstairs. I'm going to start carrying people down to the ground. I need a few volunteers to tell the rest of the people on this floor, and to stand at the stairwells to deliver the message to those coming down from above." A few hands rose into the air. "Very good. You and you and... yes, you," a glowing arrow highlighted each person in turn, "make sure everyone gets the message." As they left, she continued, "Now, I am only capable of carrying two of you at a time. I will go as quickly as I can. If you are patient and do not panic, I promise that everyone will get out of here." Hoping that she hadn't just told a lie, Aurora motioned to the two people nearest to her. "Okay, the two of you grab hold of me and do not let go. We are very far up, but it will be all right. I won't drop you." She wrapped her arms around the pair's waists and floated backwards out of the window. The man on her left screamed "Ohgodohgodohgod!" the whole way down, and she wasn't used to flying with so much weight, but the controlled fall went without a hitch. The trio alit easily and, after she pried the man's arms off her neck, the Icelandic Guardian shot skyward again. Rising, she noticed Maximan's star-spangled form flying about the burning skyscraper. A red blur below could only be the world's fastest ape, Tachyon. Pharaoh, impressive even at a distance, was commanding the clouds to douse the North Tower's flames. Though she had known they were there, the sight of her teammates was a sudden and surprising relief. She let out a sigh, followed by a few grateful tears. And then she was back on the job. After another five trips up and down the tower--and another ten lives saved--she realized with dismay how fast the flames were spreading upward. The people she was sworn to protect couldn't afford to wait for her to go all the way up and down each time. Some of them were panicking, fleeing from the fire by leaping to their deaths. Horrified, she picked a floor about a hundred feet below the fire and carved a hole into it. From then on, she ferried her passengers to this opening, saving herself precious seconds every trip. She shuttled pair after pair of terrified businessmen and women, refusing to stop for even a moment. Occasionally, she'd catch a glimpse of Maximan and the others doing the same, and she knew she wasn't alone. Too, the heat of the fire fueled her, filling her body with energy and her limbs with vitality. After an untold number of trips, the number of people waiting at the top, coughing in the smoke and baking in the heat but waiting their turn with amazing patience, was obviously dwindling. Aurora allowed the hope that the death toll wouldn't be quite so terrible to grow a little within her. Just as she was landing on her thirtieth or fortieth trip, though, the building let out a horrible groan. Both rescuer and victims looked about, alarmed. A moment later, the skyscraper shuddered and the floor fell out from under Aurora. A woman near her reached out too late, and the glowing heroine watched helplessly as the woman disappeared into the sudden cloud of smoke that seemed to replace what had moments before been a solid floor. The ceiling likewise crumbled and fell, threatening to crush her as it collapsed. She barely had time to establish her prismatic shield before a huge chunk of concrete and steel bounced off her left shoulder, throwing her from the building and fracturing her bones. She tumbled like a falling ember for five or six hundred feet before managing to catch herself. By then, the tower had turned into several hundred thousand pounds of plummeting steel and pulverized concrete. An enormous cloud of gray smoke billowed at its base, rushing down the city streets like something out of a horror movie before Pharaoh's winds led most of it out to sea. It was all Aurora could do to stare dumbly at the destruction. She floated in midair, thunderstruck, seeing nothing but a woman's hand receding into smoke. Eventually, she noticed that someone was yelling in her ear about helping someone with a tower. Slowly, she looked up and saw a skyscraper, intact and burning, through the haze. Her brow creased as she tried to understand what was happening, and then she suddenly realized that she was looking at the North Tower. It was still standing. More people needed her help. There was more work to do. Ignoring the burning pain in her shoulder, she returned to moving people as quickly as she could from the upper floors to the ground. The effort was made all the more urgent because she knew with a faith born of years of studying physics that this building would collapse, too. By now, she barely even registered the people falling past her as she worked. They were dead already, and she had to concentrate on the living. It wasn't a case of saving the mourning for later; it was a necessary condition for surviving the here and now. When the second tower finally fell, she didn't stop. She dove into the cloud of debris and grabbed people, moving them to safety, ferrying them to hospitals and EMT teams, and doing whatever seemed needed wherever she found herself. When her left arm finally became too weak to hold anything, she pressed on one-handed. Throughout the morning and afternoon, the glowing Icelander helped other rescue workers by burning through the wreckage in search of survivors. At some point, though she couldn't say when, somebody bandaged her shoulder and put her arm in a sling. Finally, as she was melting through a girder in the early evening, Aurora heard a low rumble in the distance. She looked across a blasted, eerie gray landscape filled with exhausted gray people stumbling about, down a paradoxically normal-seeming street, toward yet another collapsing skyscraper. Number 7 World Trade Center fell in on itself, a final murder in a day filled with death. Aurora stared after it for a few long seconds, and then the tears came in a flood. She slumped to the ground and wept. In between her sobs, for the first time in over seventeen years, she looked to the heavens and said, "Lord God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending..." The following morning, a quarter of a world away, Gudrun Halldorsdottir picked up the newspaper. On the front page was her daughter, broken and caked in dust, momentarily alone in her misery, crying and praying like she used to do when she was a little girl afraid of the dark. -Conrad Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Black Rose Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Damn. That brings tears to my eyes, WM. Seriously. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
AngryBug Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Logan D Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Holy Christ... I really don't have the words... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Trebuchet Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Outstanding. Please give the author my compliments, Jack. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
death tribble Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Really, really good. It does not trivialise or exaggerate the incident. It also shows failure which takes some guts to do. Congratulations to Conrad. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
red_eagle123 Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Just wanted to point out that there are more of these in various states of completion. I'm not sure if WorldMaker planned on posting them all or not however. I can say that this was a hard assignment to write towards, and WM was even hesitant to ask us to write about the topic. However I think from what I've seen that some excellent tales came out because of it. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Worldmaker Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Just wanted to point out that there are more of these in various states of completion. I'm not sure if WorldMaker planned on posting them all or not however. That was my plan, yes. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Worldmaker Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Tachyon. Written by Torii Swader, Tachyon's player. 07:56 Aurin glanced up at the sigh, taking a deep breath as he admired the sky. (It's going to be a beautiful day) he thought. He turned his attention to the two gorillas standing at a stiff attention before him. Beyond them was the Gorilla City embassy. With a curt nod to the guards, Aurin proceeded up the path towards the Embassy building. 08:01 "Thank you so much for coming Tachyon". The voice belonged to the Consulate General, who had asked Tachyon, to assist him in getting some legal representation. Shaking the hand of the Consulate General, Aurin smiled "Please, call me Aurin. I'm only Tachyon when I'm in costume.†With a nod by the Consulate, Aurin was motioned into a waiting room "As I told you over the phone, one of our citizens is being charged with what we feel are spurious accusations. However, in order to acclimate to the Humans society, we want to try and go through their legal system. We were hoping you could assist us in finding a lawyer who's willing to represent a gorilla. Ah, here we go. Mr. Qatol, this is Kalmhain Cosetus. Kalmhain, this is Aurin Qatol, better known as Tachyon." 08:30 Aurin and Kalmhain walked slowly down the sidewalks, trying not to let the crowds interfere with their discussion. The sidewalks were filled with people heading to work, trying to grab that last bagel or coffee before settling in for the day. ".tell me Mr. Qatol, what's it like working with the Guardians? They don't.. er. well that is, I've noticed since moving out of the City that the Humans still aren't ready to accept us as equals." Thinking for a moment before answering, Aurin responded, "Well first, please call me Aurin. I've spent too long in the trenches and as a soldier to be referred to so. politely. As for the Guardians, I think at first they were unsure how to react to a gorilla joining them. However, I think they're getting used to the idea." 08:46:10 ".corner ahead you'll be able to get a glimpse of. That's odd, is that plane flying awfully low?" Aurin queried, to nobody in particular. 08:47:00 *BOOM* "What was that?" Kalmhain asked, as he strained to look between the buildings for the cause of the loud explosion. "I'm not sure. Stay here Mr. Cosetus, I'm going to go check out what that was." Aurin responded, and then moved off to get a better vantage point of what was going on. 08:47:55 "Bloody hells!" Aurin exclaimed, upon first spotting the wreckage caused by a plane colliding with the North Tower of the World Trade Center. Quickly the speedy ape returned to his walking companion. "Mr. Cosetus, get back to the embassy. Tell them that a plane crashed into the World Trade Center and that they may want to start getting emergency relief forces ready. I'm going to provide assistance on scene." 08:48:50 Aurin arrived on a now crowded street just outside the World Trade Center North Tower. In the distance sirens could be heard. Aurin nodded to himself. ‘Good, the Humans are mobilizing their relief forces.’ He frowned, looking up at the now smoking tower. For a moment he stood there, unsure what to do first. Call the other Guardians in? Wait for the Humans to arrive on-scene? This was a civilian matter. Still, there were lives at stake. That made all the difference. Quickly switching into costume, Tachyon moved towards the towers intent on rescuing whomever he could. 08:49:30 Hurrying up the stairs, Tachyon prepared to hit his Guardians communicator when it crackled to life **Achilles to all Guardians. We have a situation. Report to the World Trade Center - full disaster mode. Aurora and Guardsman - keep looking for that other plane; but look in the New York area. If you find United Flight 175 - disable it and force it down. If I'm wrong, we can apologize later.** Other plane? What was Achilles talking about? Well, no time to worry about that now. The Guardians had been alerted, now was the time to get survivors out of the buildings. The smoke was getting thick, two minutes after the crash occurred. With the people crowding the stairways, Tachyon found it difficult to navigate to the top, where he was sure people needed the most help. "Everyone get to safety! Get out of the stairwells! The fire department and Police will need to use them to help those in need!" 08:55 At the assembled fire trucks, Tachyon paused, taking a moment to catch his breath as he tried to fill the Firemen in on what he saw inside. Most of the people were still on the stairways, clogging it. He'd only managed to by pass the traffic by running along the walls, over the heads of the panicking people. A couple of the firemen seemed less than happy to see Tachyon at first, reluctant to accept help from an ape most likely. At least the Fire Captain seemed level-headed. Tachyon glanced at the more reluctant fire men and shook his head. Even during tragedies old beliefs died hard. 09:02:55 Aurin turned, having handed off a victim he found on the higher levels. It looks like the smoke nearly overwhelmed her. He glanced up, and his eyes widened in horror. 09:03:00 *BOOM* A second passenger plane barrels headlong into the North Tower. Gasps of shock and horror are heard from everyone. Even Tachyon found himself temporarily unable to move as he watched, agape, at the scene of destruction before him. 09:25 "You've got to stop and take a moment with the oxygen mask! You'll wind up killing yourself if you're not careful." A local EMT scolded Tachyon. The ape had been in and out of the towers so many times by now that he'd lost count. His costume was ripped in a few places, the bright red of his costume was getting dull from all the smoke, and he'd been forced to remove his mask so that he could see. "No, not while I can help." Tachyon responded, as he prepared to stand up. "Look up at the building, see all those super-humans flitting about? Even the rest of your team has shown up. I want you to rest for five minutes. We can afford to have you rest a bit." Behind the EMT, a couple of firemen stared, muttering between themselves. Ignoring the slight coughing of the ape, the EMT fitted an oxygen mask over Tachyon's mouth and nose, and then scurried off to attend to others in need. The two firemen walked over and addressed Tachyon "You should listen to him, you've done more than your fair share, more than any of us." With that, the two turned and headed back to help as best they could. It was then that it dawned on him. Those were two of the more reluctant firemen from earlier. Still, as soon as the firemen were out of sight, Tachyon raced back into the building. 09:37 Tachyon paused, he was somewhere on or above the 90th set of floors, it was hard to tell anymore. Holding a hand over his eyes to shield from the flames, he glanced around. He could hear screaming but was having a hard time pin-pointing it. Ah, over there! Tachyon stumbled towards the person screaming; almost blind from the thick smoke that permeated everywhere. "I'm here to help you. Can you stand up?" Tachyon asked Tachyon glanced around. Some rubble had fallen on the man before him. But with all the smoke and debris about locating the cause of the man's immobility was difficult. "My legs are stuck. I can't get them free." Nodding his understanding, Tachyon kneeled down to try and help as best he could. It took a few minutes but he was able to free the man and pick him up. "Let's get. " He was cut off as the hallway he'd been planning on heading for erupted in a fire, with debris raining down and blocking the exit.. Coughing, he looked around to find another exit. The only other things down here were corner office suites. 09:39 The outside wall around Tachyon and his injured charge was forcibly ripped away. The smoke immediately began pouring out, as Tachyon tried desperately to see who was there. Once recognition set in, Tachyon's eyes widened. Hovering just outside the building staring malevolently at him was the known villain Dragnet. Surely not even Dragnet would stoop so low as to take advantage of this tragedy. Tachyon flexed, readying himself for a fight he wasn't sure he could afford to participate in. Dragnet simply held out his hand and, to Tachyon's surprise, stated flatly "Give him to me, I'll take the two of you to safety". Tachyon blinked, unsure of how to respond. "Mr. Tachyon, I may be a villain, but I'm also a Human Being. Let me help you." Tachyon glanced back at the exit, and then nodded. He had no choice. 09:42 Back on the ground Tachyon stared in amazement as Dragnet headed back up to the towers to try and find more survivors. He shook his head and then turned to the Fire Captain, Tachyon inquired, "How bad is it?" The Fire Captain turned his attention on the ape, and then just silently shook his head before responding. "Despite the efforts of all you super-humans.. er. beings, there's still a lot of floors that are trapped. We don't know who's on those floors and we can't get our ladders or helicopters into position to turn down those flames." Tachyon glanced at the towers then frowned "We have to put those fires out. And we need to get people out. Is there anything else I can do to help? Carry fire hoses or something?" The Fire Captain shook his head "No, the hoses aren't long enough to go up the stairs. You're helping the best way you can right now." A young police officer came running up, very out of breath. "They just hit the pentagon! Another plane, it just hit the pentagon!" Stunned silence reigned as the enormity of the situation began to sink in. 10:02 Tachyon doubled over coughing. The effects from too much smoke inhalation were beginning to creep in. He shook his head, forcing himself to keep moving, to keep running. He'd run back into the towers against the further protests of the EMT watching over him. It didn't matter; he could do more good ferrying people in and out of the wreckage than sitting in the back of an ambulance. The cries of a woman drew his attention. He turned, stumbling through the smoke filled corridor towards the sound. "Hello?! Can you hear me?" He stopped, stifling the urge to cough so he could listen. The sounds of fire and debris falling were all he heard. Wait... no, there to the left. He plunged ahead blindly; finding a small alcove with a young woman huddled behind an overturned desk. She couldn't be more than 19 or 20. Probably an intern for whatever company used to occupy this floor. "I'm with the Guardians, I'm here to help you." Tachyon stated, trying to calm the terrified young woman down. "You've got to get me out of here!" she responded, nearly screaming hysterically. "Don't worry, I'll get you to safety. C'mon, we have to move though, these floors are getting too dangerous to stay here much longer." 10:04:30 Tachyon moved carefully down the now ruined stairwells, as he carried the young woman he'd found. Trying to pick his way past the debris. It wasn't easy, but at least the stairwells were mostly empty. 10:04:55 "I see the lobby just ahead, we're almost to safety" Tachyon pointed, trying to cheer the young woman up. They would be safely outside the tower soon. 10:04:59 Looking through a pair of binoculars, the fireman scanned the lobby looking for the familiar red blur and another survivor to take care of. "C'mon, where is that stupid ape, he's been in there forever." A flash of red caught his eyes "There he is boys. OH MY GOD!" 10:05:00 The south tower of the World Trade Center collapsed, plummeting into the streets below. A massive cloud of dust and debris formed and slowly drifted away from the building. 10:06:16 The heavier debris began to settle, the thick cloud of smoke and dust still permeating the air. Stumbling out of the thick haze came Tachyon, his costume ripped to shreds. He stumbled a final time and fell into the arms of a pair of waiting firemen. The sounds of sobbing from the great ape are heard as he tried to explain. "I. I lost her. she was in my hands, and the dust. I. I couldn't hold on to her. She.. she didn't make it. she didn't make it." 10:20 The EMT stood up. "There you go Tachyon, you got pretty badly beat up. I'm surprised you're still able to move at .. DAMMIT!" Tachyon was no longer sitting in the back of the ambulance. He'd dashed off into the remaining tower. 10:27:05 "Now you listen to me Tachyon, you're beating yourself up too much. You have to take a rest, half your fur is singed off, your costume is ripped beyond shreds and you're suffering from major smoke inhalation. I can't let you go back in there." The EMT stood before Tachyon, trying to forcibly intercept the ape should he try to re-enter the remaining tower. The EMT was getting tired of having to deal with the very stubborn and nearly impossible to work with ape. Still, at least the he seemed to heal fast. Regardless, the EMT was determined to make Tachyon sit and rest, for once. 10:27:45 A hand came to rest on Tachyon's shoulder. "Tachyon please, you deserve a rest." The imploring voice belonged to Bungie, the youngest of the Guardians and the one Tachyon treated like a little sister. The ape tried to shrug away, getting ready to head back inside. The pliable arms of Bungee wrapped around him, to keep him from running off "Tachyon... NO!" 10:28:01 Tachyon strained against the arms holding him back, screaming in agony "No! I can make it back in!" Before the two Guardians, the outer layers of the remaining tower began to peel apart, the process of the building collapse beginning. Bungie's arms lashed out and enveloped her speedster companion tighter. Blinking back tears, she gritted her teeth and held Tachyon firmly as she felt him start to vibrate in his attempts to escape her grasp. "Don't sacrifice yourself. There are others still to be aided." Her voice trailed off and cracked with sorrow as she and Tachyon watched the second tower fall. "There's been too much death already..." 10:28:05 The World Trade Center's north tower collapsed from the top down as if it were being peeled apart, releasing a tremendous cloud of debris and smoke 10:28:47 Suddenly, the arms that had encircled Bungie's fellow Guardian slacked, no longer restraining, but almost clinging, as the pliable Guardian hung on to her companion for strength. Her face buried itself into his furry shoulder, as she wept silently. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
lemming Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 well done Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
nexus Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Wow..simply..wow. Very impressive writing. And it does take allot of guts to show a character failing. I haven't seen it often in a "fan fiction" particularly not about a PC. Sometimes moments of weakness and despair reveal allot more about a character than success. Well done. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
red_eagle123 Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Wow..simply..wow. Very impressive writing. And it does take allot of guts to show a character failing. I haven't seen it often in a "fan fiction" particularly not about a PC. Sometimes moments of weakness and despair reveal allot more about a character than success. Well done. Well there's two reasons for the PC's failing. First, the assignment as presented was that while the PC's could be on scene, and save lives, the tragedy would still occur. The planes would crash, the towers would fall, and the death toll would still be present. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, I think the PC's fail because despite the desire to avert the tragedy, that would be disgracing the memory of the tragedy. Not just the tragedy itself, but of those who lost people. It's hard for me to put into words, but it's the same reason that during World War 2, writers came up with artificial reasons the big super-heroes weren't allowed into the war. Yes they could stop the war, but considering the real world and the implications, it's best if they didn't. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Worldmaker Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Secondly' date=' and perhaps more importantly, I think the PC's fail because despite the desire to avert the tragedy, that would be disgracing the memory of the tragedy. Not just the tragedy itself, but of those who lost people. It's hard for me to put into words, but it's the same reason that during World War 2, writers came up with artificial reasons the big super-heroes weren't allowed into the war. Yes they could stop the war, but considering the real world and the implications, it's best if they didn't.[/quote'] That's certainly part of it. I know this is why Becky's having such a problem with it... she lost three cousins in the attacks. She still wants to do it, but its been difficult for her to get started. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
nexus Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Well there's two reasons for the PC's failing. First, the assignment as presented was that while the PC's could be on scene, and save lives, the tragedy would still occur. The planes would crash, the towers would fall, and the death toll would still be present. I understand the whys behind it. I just think it takes integrity to write about that, particularly in a wish fullfillment genre like Supers. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
nexus Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 That's certainly part of it. I know this is why Becky's having such a problem with it... she lost three cousins in the attacks. She still wants to do it' date=' but its been difficult for her to get started.[/quote'] Oh my God, she has my sympathies. Wish her luck with her story, please. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Worldmaker Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Pharaoh, by John Scalera, Pharaoh's player. OOC: This was difficult for me to write. I had to stop several times and walk away from the computer. In the end, I hope it doesn't offend. Be advised, I pull no punches. Most of what follows is based on my and my wife's own first-hand experiences of that day. I find it unsatisfactory, but no amount of editing will change that I think. He studied the huge wall map carefully. It resembled closely one that had hung in his private chambers, it having been a gift of his father's vizier on his twelfth birthday. But while the contours and the geography were similar, the markings were very different. "You can see here Mesopotamia, and then Syria here, and Palestine." His guide traced the areas with a bright red dot which the Egyptian knew came from the device held in his guide's hand, more "technology" which seemed like magic to him but which he knew was not. To his guide the instrument was the simplest of tools. To Imhotep, it was a marvel which he could spend an entire afternoon discovering. "The Hittites are shrouded in fog and mystery; we don't where they came from, and for a long time the language they spoke was undecipherable. In the end, it turns out they were Indo-European, that is, they spoke a language from the Indo-European language family, which includes English, German, Greek, Latin, Persian, and the languages of India. Their invasion spelled the end of the Old Babylonian empire in Mesopotamia (1900-1600 BC), and like so many others before them, the invaders adopted the ways of the conquered; after the conquest of Mesopotamia, the Hittites adopted the laws, religion, and the literature of the Old Babylonians thus continuing the long heritage of Sumerian culture." Pharaoh listened attentively as the Ataturk Centre for Culture and Museum Complex guide continued his lesson. He had more than 4,400 years of history to learn and he wanted to learn all of it. So the Babylonians finally succumbed to these Hittites. Well, they always were too reliant on culture and religion, and not enough on the sword. "How did Egypt and these Hittites treat?" he asked. "The Egyptians regarded them as barbarians," the guide answered. "In fact, from 1300-1200 BC, the Hittites waged a war against Egypt that drained both empires tragically." The sudden activation of his new communicator implant's "panic" mode caused Pharaoh to wince and place a hand on his jaw. This was magic he did not enjoy, but unfortunately a necessary devil. **Achilles to all Guardians. We have a situation. Report to the World Trade Center - full disaster mode.** He held up a hand to silence his guide, trying to remember where this World Trade Center was. It was in the new city, 'New York' he recalled, and if he recalled correctly it was located nowhere near Ankara. "This is Pharaoh," he declared, knowing the device through which he heard Achillies would also send his words across the void back to him. "I am in Ankara and will need to be ferried to the World Trade Center." **Pharaoh, stand by,** came back in Melody's feminine computer voice. "I must leave," he explained to his guide. "When I am able, I will return." "O-of course," the guide replied. "It was an honor instructing you, sir." Pharaoh walked towards the museum wing's tall double-door exit and made it most of the way before his scenery suddenly changed to that of the Global Guardians orbital base. He stopped and steeled himself against the wave of nausea which swept over his abdomen. His less-evolved body would adjust over time to accommodate teleportation travel, and it would not be too soon. The room was empty. He stood with legs spread, thumbs tucked into his belt, and called out, "Melody? Why do we delay? Where is Achilles?" "Achilles is on site in New York City. The teleportation grid will be fully charged in one minute, forty six seconds." Her disembodied voice provided only a partial explanation which drew a frown upon his face. "What is the disaster?" "American Airlines Flight 11, Boston to Los Angeles, appears to have crashed into World Trade Center, North Tower. Preliminary report assessments indicate severe structural damage, fire, and casualties." Pharaoh understood most but not all of her explanation, but it did not matter. Better to see with his own two eyes than to rely on the judgement of a machine. He donned his golden raiment, finishing with the last of the clasps as the instant motion device began winding up. "Prepare for transport," said Melody's voice. Chaos. The ground was on fire in several places, large amorphous swaths of blue-orange fire that pooled and flickered intensely with heat. White parchment flew everywhere as far as he could see, swirling on currents of hot air. People were running everywhere, terror having driven them to screams or dread silence. In front of him stood the largest structures he had ever seen in his life. Even without the gaping, flaming wound in it's side, even if the madness surrounding him was not, the sheer majesty of the two buildings would have held him speechless for hours. He once thought the plans for the Great Pyramids were the pinnacle of human engineering. No longer. Angry black smoke billowed heavily from the damage, streaking away to the west like an escaping prisoner. Screams from one burning area drew his attention to two figures writhing in agony as they burned, their bodies twisting and contorting on the ground. A small group of men, similarly dressed and bearing metal canisters, sprayed some kind of foamy white that did a pitiful job of keeping the flames at bay in their attempt to reach the unfortunate souls. The scene was overwhelming, more than he was prepared to handle. It was out of reflex more than any intention that his hand reached out to send winds that forced the flames away from the rescuers along a path to the still burning but no longer screaming people. They were quickly doused with the whiteness from the canisters, their bodies still moving, maybe not yet realizing that they were already dead. A hand grabbed him harshly by the shoulder and whipped him around. He barely noticed. "Who are you? WHO ARE YOU!?" The man facing him wore a uniform matching that of the other rescuers. His face was dark with soot and purpose, his eyes demanding and intense. "I-I...am Pharaoh." The words did not have their usual timbre to them but the speaking of them did remind him that, even in chaos, he was still Pharaoh. "You did that? With the wind?" the man demanded, a hand still gripping Pharaoh's shoulder hard. He nodded. "What else can you do? DAMMIT WAKE UP!! WHAT ELSE CAN YOU DO!?" Before he could be shaken further, Pharaoh swept the man's arm from his person. There would be no lesson in disrespect today. He would make allowances given the situation. Shock gave way to anger, his words were drawn steel. "There is much I can do." The heavens punctuated his statement with a growl of thunder that rolled across the city. Pharaoh's eyes turned white as winds attended his unspoken command and lifted him up into the clear blue sky, a sky that was darkening quickly. As if watching time-lapse photography film the skies above downtown New York grew thick with rapidly coalescing clouds. Black anvil thunderheads, pregnant with moisture, fattened and filled the sky. The rains were only a moment behind, unannounced and heavy. Gusts of wind blew the rain sideways in sheets which swept across the burning face of the damaged tower. Higher he rose, the winds bearing him aloft. Below him the loud and lighted vehicles carrying more rescuers were arriving from points all over. Confusion reigned, people moving in uncoordinated masses. His eyes caught sight of Maximan flying into the ruined structure. The other Guardian began ferrying occupants trapped above the flames to safety on the adjacent tower's roof. Hopefully they did not mind getting wet. The flames, which should have been extinguished by now, were proving persistent against the rain shower. He was level with the impact point now, hovering near the tower's uninjured twin. He concentrated, slowly bringing his hands together in front of him as if to guide the high-velocity winds. They responded, becoming a directional vortex and channeling the falling water into a more concentrated stream with which he swept the edge of the flames. They moved around, but like some evil sorcery refused to acknowledge the water. The inside was a furnace, it's heat crashing against him despite his distance and the intervening weather. A skeleton, the incinerated remains of someone unfortunate, could be seen in the heart of the destruction. It captivated him long enough that he did not notice the difference between the approaching engines of United Airlines Flight 175 and the thunder from the storm until it was too late. Blackness. "Easy there, now." "Is he okay?" The voices were close. "He's moving. Let's get him up." Hands were upon him, helping him to his feet. In his daze he saw that he was on the ground, on a street he didn't recognize. There was burning debris everywhere. To his left was a wheeled vehicle whose front glass had been smashed in by a large, bloody rock that looked an awful lot like someone's head. He looked away quickly and rocked on his heels. "Sir? Sir? Can you hear me?" In truth the words were faint. His eyes focused on a black pointy-heeled shoe laying on the ground near him. The part of the leg attached to the foot still in the shoe looked to be that of a woman. He shifted his focus to one of the two men trying to steady him. "Yes. What...?" They started moving him, helping him walk. He took the hint and moved on his own without having to be supported. To his There was an odd sensation down on his left side. He looked to see half his raiment missing in a wide, charred patch. He was bleeding from a wound where a hand-wide piece of metal protruded from his body. There was little pain, but something down there certainly wasn't working right. "Jesus! Frank, put him down!" The two men in blue and white uniforms different than the ones he'd seen lay him on the street corner. Now that they were at the end of the block he could see the towers, both now burning. They were some hundred-and-thirty cubits away, he guessed. His head spun and fell back to rest against the sidewalk. The two men were working on his wound; healers, he assumed. The gods had not abandoned him yet. An explosion of pain from his left side was followed by a metallic clunk as the EMT removed the shrapnel and exposed the wound. One spoke of bleeding before he passed out. Blackness. The sounds of chaos seemed only barely more organized. He was reclined on a divan or elevated bed. His wounds were bandaged tightly and well with a field dressing. There was pain, but it was manageable. It was when he moved to rise that it became a scream of protest. Someone was there helping him with more steady hands. It was one of the EMTs. "Woah, easy there. You've been out for almost forty minutes." Pharaoh sat on the edge of the gurney, trying to will himself back to strength. He was needed. "What happened?" "When the second plane hit, you were right on the other side and got caught up in the pass-through blast. You fell through an awning and then rolled off a car. somebody up there must really like you, pal." The sound that followed was unlike anything Pharaoh had ever heard before. It was as if the gods were raining heaven down upon the land itself. The shaking drew the wheeled gurney sideways. The EMT crouched in reaction to the incredible explosion of glass and steel that lasted forever and during which there was nothing else, not even the passing of time. The south tower had collapsed. All vision of it was lost in a cloud of grey smoke that came at them like a freight train. The EMT had seen enough. "Run! Get under cover!" "Stand fast!" Pharaoh slid off the gurney to find his feet solid under him. His hands flew up and the winds responded, forming a protective shield against which the fast-moving dust cloud crashed and around which it flowed as if water around a rock. Beyond a dome-sized area some twenty cubits in diameter all was darkness. The pain in his side reminded him that it was there but Pharaoh's mind had moved well beyond his wounds and was far too angry to notice. "rrrRrRRRrRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!" His eyes flashed white, his hands flicked up towards the sky. All things everywhere felt the suction, the enormous draw of tornado-strength hurricane winds sweeping across the street network of downtown New York. All the papers, all the dust, all the light debris, rose into the air along with the ancient Egyptian. His rage found expression in the undeniable power of the weather. People who had been running were knocked flat or forced to grab something heavy. The building was down, but the dust cloud which had threatened to swamp all of lower Manhattan was now a semi-organized mass on it's way out to sea. Having settled himself on the roof of a nearby building-monolith, Pharaoh maintained the hurricane winds' suction until the entire dust cloud was lost to the Atlantic. When he stopped he realized that he had become a focus of attention. Many of the rescuers were pointing up at him and the other gifted individuals who had responded to the crisis were likely wondering what he was all about. That would not do. He let the winds carry him down to the organized mass of men below. A series of loud cracks caused an instinctive herd-like motion of the surrounding groups away from the remaining tower. Pharaoh thought it was the sound of concrete debris striking the ground but he was wrong. It was the sound of human beings hitting the pavement. "Great Re..." he rasped through a breaking voice box. Another struck the pavement as he watched, and another. The things that happened to the human body after falling eighty stories were...indescribable. There was no screaming, no panic to them, no sound but for that final moist sharp cracking. One more fell, one more gone, before the shock which had grabbed him by the throat allowed him to fight through it and move. More winds caught and stopped the falling. They remained silent, shaking, still as statues upon being brought to a rest upon the ground. For all that they had jumped and survived the light inside was dead and gone. The rescuers baring their NYFD markings had moved on, into the second burning tower. Were they mad, these men? The obvious conclusion to the second tower was likely to occur and yet they ran into the building and not away from it. When it came this time, Pharaoh was ready for it. He knew those still inside were gone, their brave lights snuffed out. From his new perch he directed and controlled the dust cloud to greater effect. There was less spreading, less collateral debris caught in the vortex of winds funneling the dust out to sea. How much of that dust was them? How much was once alive? As the final settling occurred a single tear rolled down the ancient ruler's face. He held a high opinion of himself, this was well known. As one once worshipped as a god since birth this was to be expected. Thinking now that he had survived four thousand years while these brave men and women gave their lives so bravely - so easily - for the smallest chance to save another...he found the disparity unjust. By the time late afternoon arrived, Pharaoh's activities had mainly been confined to targeted rain. What remained of the fire department's leadership had asked him to continue to pour rain down upon the tower remains. He had refined and refined and refined his control over the area until the rain fell only upon the tower footprints and the block to the north, where the seventh building in the World Trade Center complex, struck square on by the first tower to fall, yet burned. Several times he had witnessed his fellow Guardians doing more, participating in the survivor search more directly, and more than one of those times Pharaoh had asked to help. Each time he had been told that what he was doing was far more important, as mundane a task as it seemed. And so he had remained. Building seven fell at twenty past five. It had been evacuated and cleared by his comrades, along with an assortment of other gifted individuals who had arrived to help as they could. There were enough there to make even the collapse of a 47-story building a controlled event. It was a small comfort. A sound machine, a "radio", was nearby. The speaker went on in detail about how the rulers of these United States knew who had been behind this plot of destruction. Pharaoh listened. They were called al Qaeda, led by an Osama bin Laden. They were Arabs. It brought the bile up into his throat once more to think that he was from so close a human stock as these men. "How could they? How...could they..." He looked for an answer in the faces of those near him, but there were none. "They must be paid in full for this outrage. They WILL pay. If not by the hand of this place's army then by my own hand!" He started to rise from the ground. He was letting it go. The storm once again started to spread, the winds once again gust. His voice carried like thunder. "DO YOU HEAR ME? DO...YOU...HEAR...ME? YOU WILL ALL PAY! WITH YOUR LIVES! I, PHARAOH, SO SWEAR IT! IT...WILL...BE...DONE..." Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Trebuchet Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 That was very moving indeed. And your players have done a most admirable job of reflecting the various reactions of that day (Anguish, grief, rage.) I know on that dreadful day I didn't start crying until I was driving home from work. Jack, I take it in the GGU the Global Guardians moved against Al Qaeda instead of a more general military response by the US? Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Vanguard00 Posted July 13, 2004 Report Share Posted July 13, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Damn fine writing, John. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Osprey Posted July 14, 2004 Report Share Posted July 14, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Kara Zor-El Posted July 14, 2004 Report Share Posted July 14, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 After crying the whole time I was writin' mine, I can't bring myself to read the others just yet. My apologies, guys. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Worldmaker Posted July 14, 2004 Report Share Posted July 14, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Vindicator. Written by Kara Benson, Vindicator's player. "I'm scared. We're going to die." "Nay, lass. If it's th' last thing I'm doin' on this world, the three of ye are gettin' out o' here," a cheerful voice said from the darkness, the thick Irish brogue carrying conviction. "But, you've got a good portion of the building on your back. How long can you hold it up?" a male voice asked, despair evident. "As long as it takes, lad. As long as it takes," came the reply, sincerity evident in the tone. The two men and one woman huddled together tried to draw comfort from the voice and the demeanor it conveyed. They'd seen the giant Irish woman brushing debris aside as she led them down the stairwell. They'd gotten to the ground floor when the world, it seemed, collapsed on them. Only their companion's quick thinking had saved them. She'd quickly scooped them up and leaped toward freedom, coming up just short. She had, however, had the presence of mind to fall to all fours over them, locking her elbows and taking the brunt of the impact on her back. She'd grunted as she was struck, but held firm. Now all they had to do was wait. Vindicator thought ruefully that this was a bad time to finally have a communicator knocked from her ear. She couldn't call to Melody for a teleport. All she could do was hold out for as long as she could. It was fortunate they weren't at the center, and that she'd been pelted with debris throughout the endless time she'd been trying to get people out of the building. Her strength at the moment, thanks to her absorption abilities, was prodigious. Enough to hold off the tons of debris covering her and her companions for awhile, until it faded. She just prayed that her fellow Guardians would be able to dig her out before that time came. She thanked God for her healing ability while she was at it. It was the only way she'd survived the punishment she'd taken this morning. As it was, she was pretty sure she'd fractured a couple of vertebrae in that final collapse. With her companions reassured for the moment, her mind wandered back to a couple of hours prior. She'd been in the process of putting the finishing touches on her custom built house in Galway, Ireland, her hometown. A custom house that would accomodate her nine foot tall frame and her 900 pound mass. She'd just opened a Guinness in congratulations when the call came in at 2:49 pm, her time. **Achilles to all Guardians. We have a situation. Report to the World Trade Center - full disaster mode. Aurora and Guardsman - keep looking for that other plane; but look in the New York area. If you find United Flight 175 - disable it and force it down. If I'm wrong, we can apologize later.** **Vindicator to Melody. Get me there soonest.** A couple of minutes later, Vindicator paled when she saw the smoke pouring from the large building. "Saints preserve us!" she whispered in horrified awe. That moment was the last one she spent sitting still, until the building fell on her. She'd spend the next hour and twenty minutes ferrying people out of the north tower. She'd blanched when she'd heard the south tower had been hit, but hoped to God and whatever saints were listening that her fellow Guardians were in a position to help. She'd seen brief glimpses of some of her teammates and other costumed heroes she didn't take the time to try to remember, of course. She just hadn't taken the time or breath to greet them. Her energy had been saved for clearing debris out of the way, making openings in the wall and, in a couple of instances, leaping from windows with her arms full of people. She didn't allow herself to wonder about the who or why, or even the how, of the attack, though she heard over her comm unit and from some of the firefighters and policemen that someone had flown a plane into each tower. Normally not a vindictive person, despite her colorful alias, she'd silently condemned the ones behind the attack to the darkest pits of hell. She'd let none of her feelings show on her face, though. She kept a cheerful, reassuring smile on her face as she tirelessly worked to get all the people out of the building. When she'd heard the first rumbles, signifying the death of the tower, her heart constricted. There were still too many people inside. There was no way they could all get out. None at all. She'd stepped up her pace, bodily carrying people, rather than leading them. She'd tossed more than a dozen people out of windows to flying heroes, desperate to save as many as she could. She'd even gone back in one last time, even though she knew the time remaining had to be almost non-existent. She'd almost had heart failure when the building started collapsing. She'd picked up her pace even more, thankful that the fires she'd run through had actually increased her ability to keep from being fatigued. She'd almost made it out, but her last leap had fallen short and she hadn't had the time to make another, so she did the only thing she could think of. She shielded her charges with her own body. She was singed, her back was broken and she was holding up over a hundred tons of debris, but she was unbeaten. She wouldn't entertain the idea of failure. She couldn't fail. Three people were depending on her. Three precious lives that were depending on her to come through so they could see their families again, so they could see the sunshine again, so they could breathe in fresh air not laden with dust. She gritted her teeth. Failure wasn't an option, so she wouldn't fail. It was as simple to her as that. She felt a small shift in the debris to her left, felt a slight draft. It was almost over. The temptation to relax was overwhelming, but she didn't allow the temptation foothold. Relaxing would be fatal. She grinned down at her companions, tightly squeezed together under her, knowing they couldn't see it in the total absence of life. "It won't be long now," she said in her most reassuring voice. "They're comin' f'r us. Stay strong." Fifteen minutes later, firefighters were helping Vindicator's three charges away from the site, several of the stronger New York superheroes digging through the rubble, hoping to find more survivors. Emotionally and physically drained, Vindicator kneeled where they'd found her. And wept. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SKJAM! Posted July 14, 2004 Report Share Posted July 14, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 I find Dragnet's speech ironic, given who he's speaking to.... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
red_eagle123 Posted July 14, 2004 Report Share Posted July 14, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 I find Dragnet's speech ironic' date=' given who he's speaking to....[/quote'] Hmm.. yeah. I can see the irony. To be honest it never even crossed my mind when I wrote it. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Worldmaker Posted July 14, 2004 Report Share Posted July 14, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Long Shot. By Brad Becerra, player of Long Shot. Paul stretched in his hotel bed. A salty breeze drifted through the partially closed curtains, stirring his two beautiful companions from their slumber. He got up, careful not to disturb the bed too much, and went out on the balcony for some fresh air. He squinted at the Florida sun as it hung above the horizon, and took in the amazing view of the beach. 'Life is good', he thought to himself and he contemplated another intimate encounter with the ladies. He only remembered Maria's name, but that would have to do for now. Just then, his Guardians communicator came to life with emotional chatter and orders. Achilles words put all thought of personal pleasure from Long Shot's mind and put him in business mode. It was show time. "Ladies, I have to leave. Please call the front desk and have them charge the room on my card, and let yourselves out. It was nice meeting you both." He quickly gathered up his clothes and travel bag. *Long Shot ready for base transport* ---- With a dull whomping sound, Long Shot was transported to the base of the towers. The scene was one of pure chaos. Debris littered the ground, and soot stained survivors were funneling from the exits. Fire fighters and police rushed here and there and Long Shot caught sight of his team members helping out the situation. Thirty yards to his left, the unthinkable happened. A jumper died a horrible way that would be remembered by Paul for a lifetime. It took all of his will to suppress his emotions. "Nothing more can be done for him', Paul thought, 'The living need your help now'. Long Shot Ran up to the nearest fire engine captain. A team was in back of an engine getting ready to enter the damaged tower. "I'm going in with your team, lieutenant" he said more than asked. The exhausted officer replied, "Your help is more than welcome Long Shot. We can use all the manpower we can get." Paul grabbed an air tank and followed the fire team into the building. ---- On the upper part of the accessible floors, Long Shot and the fire team scanned the area for survivors. The heat was getting to the point of being unbearable. "All Clear" the fire team leader shouted, and the group headed down to the next floor. Four levels had been searched and about a dozen trapped or injured people were saved. As the team was traveling down the stairwell to the next floor, the building gave a sound that cam only be akin to a death moan. Part of the upper stairwell broke away, and debris rained down upon them. The sergeant gave out a painful scream as the dust slowly cleared. A large piece of falling metal had destroyed the lower part of his leg. The hair on the back of Long Shot's neck stood on end. He had felt it many times before, and it had saved his skin more times than he could count. "We have to leave. Now." The other fire fighters stood and voiced their disagreement. " If we don't' leave now, you will never see your loved ones again. You have to trust me on this." The second in command took control of his men. "Lets listen to the man. Besides, we need more air anyways". Long Shot thoughtlessly dropped his bow and arrows, and hefted the Lieutenant over his shoulder for the hasty run down the stairs. Their legs burned and lungs demanded more air as they raced for their lives. No more than fifteen seconds after Long Shot and the team exited the tower, it had begun to collapse. Large parts of the super structure came falling out of the sky. It was too late for cover. "So this is how it ends", Paul said to himself. A great darkness fell upon them, but it took a few moments for the group to realize it wasn't death. A yellowish force field surrounded them, and they noticed a new companion in the group. A teenage boy, his eyes closed in concentration, sustained the force field until the danger was over. Once it was, he collapsed in exhaustion and the field dissipated. The boy had saved their lives. ---- A bruised and battered Long Shot sat down at a mobile command center. The other Guardians were there getting a moments rest and some caffeine before helping with the search for survivors. A tired Tachyon, turned and asked, "Paul, where is your bow? And your arrows for that matter?" Without making eye contact, Long Shot simply pointed in the direction of what was left of the fallen, smoking towers. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Worldmaker Posted July 14, 2004 Report Share Posted July 14, 2004 Re: The Global Guardians on September 11, 2001 Dogfight. Written by Jack Butler, formerly the player of Dogfight. Dogfight took a moment to mop his brow. He’d been in South Africa visiting his parents when he got the call from Achilles, and he’d used up a lot of his reserves in getting here. Pretoria to New York City… 4500 kilometers or so, and he covered it in seventeen minutes. He’d sleep tonight. A lot. “All right… I’ve told you how this works, and you’ve seen me do it with the people ahead of you… When I say ‘go’ I want you to just step off into space. Trust me.†He glanced nervously at the woman in the blue business suit. When he said “step offâ€, she looked at him like he had said “Put this pistol in your mouth and pull the triggerâ€. “You won’t fall… at least, you won’t fall very fast. I’ll make sure of that… you’ll land as gently as if you were landing on a pillow. Now, are you ready?†He collected nods. “Okay, go!†Seven of the people stepped off into the empty space and hung there for a moment. They stood just outside the fifty-seventh floor of the World Trade Center’s south tower as if attending a casual meeting… if it weren’t that they were all sinking slowly, very slowly, and hanging in thin air, no one would have been the wiser. Dogfight’s brow began to sweat just a bit heavier. He turned back toward the building. The woman in the blue coat. “Ma’am, we need to go, right now. If you don’t step off, I’ll have to leave you and come back for you. Are you going to stay, or are you going to go?†She stared, horrified, at the ground far beneath her. “I’m staying… I’m staying… Oh, God…†“Fine. See you soon.†There was a yelp from nearly everyone in the group as their slow sinking became a sudden drop. Not overly quickly, but at least the equal of what they’d get from a carnival ride. Dogfight hung in the center of their mass. He had long since mastered blocking and releasing his own kinetic energy, but leaching the downward momentum from the seven people around him was another thing entirely. After a minute, they were still a hundred feet up, and he could feel his temples throbbing. He had felt something go “pop†behind his left eye, and now that side of his face burned. His vision was cloudy on his left. It was playing games with his concentration. They hit the ground hard. Not hard enough to kill anyone, but from the sound at least two people had broken legs. Including himself. The EMTs rushed toward them as he pushed himself off. This group was safe… there were still people up there. No time for first aid… he’d make it. He’d been through worse than a broken leg in his life, and who needed to walk when you could fly. He rose until he was hanging four feet in the air, then streaked toward the base of the building. He’d phase up through the floors of the building in a wide spiral pattern, looking for stragglers. It was a damn fine plan if he did say so himself. On the fourth floor he found them, a small group of rescuers and the people they’d been escorting out, leaping as quickly as they could down the stairwell. Each one who spotted him shouted at him to get out, to get away, the building had begun coming down, they could hear it… Dogfight couldn’t hear it, not right away, but he took their word for it. He dove after them, slowing interminably as he played tail-end Charlie… he wasn’t about to let any of these men and women fall and be crushed when he could quite easily escape just by vibrating through the wall and into the open air. They reached the lobby together. The glass on the ground floor had already burst, and he could see the debris begin to fall. Chunks of concrete and steel weighing hundreds of pounds were raining from the sky. The rest of the people had stopped running… there wasn’t any time to get out. There wasn’t any reason to run. Most were already exhausted when they started, and the overwhelming nature of their fate had stolen whatever hope remained. But not for all. Ignoring the oncoming roar of the collapsing building, Dogfight spread his arms wide and released a wave of energy that scooped the other people into the air and pushed… Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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