Un-Innocent Bystanders

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Shroom Man 777
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Un-Innocent Bystanders

Post by Shroom Man 777 »

Yes, it's back! No More Heroes (or villains, for that matter)!



“Berlin is a warzone!” shouted Earl Makeson as he pounded through the streets, face bloodied. The picture wasn't clear from the cam-drone, but the little robot did its best. “Bloods runs in the streets, as cultists and fanatics duke it out, as the forces of the government try to contain the fighting, as supervillains battle with the forces of the Guild!” There was a rumble and Makeson was knocked from his feet. “And now, some strange military force has invaded from mysterious flying wings!”

He pushed himself to his feet and brushed himself off. Looking directly into the tiny lens of one of his cam-drones he delivered the rest of his speech. “Berlin is boiling over into madness!”

He heard a familiar mechanical clanking and looked further up the street. There, a German tank! Sensing the story of his life, Earl Makeson, intrepid reporter, half jogged towards the war-machine, only to watch it crumple then crash into a building. It exploded, and Earl took a step back. Then a group of soldiers he assumed were from the flying wings. They were lead by a man in a rather impressive robe who carried no weapon. He had the air of a leader, and thus, an interview.

“Excuse me!” Earl shouted, sprinting forward. There was no spoken word, but one of the soldiers gunned him down all the same. Earl went splat against the ground, and the group continued on, taking two steps when the apparently dead reporter shouted: “Could I get an interview?”

The kill-team exchanged looks as Makeson got to his feet, with no holes over his chest and face. Faustan gestured towards the reporter and smashed him back into the ground in a cloud of concrete dust and the splintering of bone. “Oh sweet Jesus!” Earl screamed. He continued to scream very loudly as he dragged himself out of his crater. “Inter ... view ...” he gasped, and Faustan had him shot in the head. “Need ... scoop ...” he managed.

“I can accept you not being dead.” Faustan said in a low voice.”However, you have a hole the size of a twenty euro piece
through your brain. I don't see how you could possibly come back the same person.”

“Give ... interview.”


- Earl Makeson, Live from Berlin April 2007


In the world of journalism, there are true professionals – men and women renowned throughout the populace for their pursuit of the truth. Lately, one name has come to join the elite ranks, becoming synonymous with the news, on par with the names of great anchors, reporters and journalists like Larry King Live, Ron Burgundy, and Jon Stewart. His name is Earl Makeson, the maverick metahuman reporter known for risking life and limb to cover the most dangerous battlefields and hazardous disaster zones, interviewing superheroes and supervillains alike amidst near-apocalyptic final battles. More often than not, he goes alone, with a hand-camera in one hand and a microphone in the other, since most cameramen would rather cover the events from a safe distance, a mile away, with a telescopic video cam, in a concrete bunker with deathproof windows.

This is because maverick metahuman reporter Earl Makeson’s one single ability is superhealing far beyond the capabilities of most metahumans, surpassing even most superheroes and villains. When asked as to how he received his gift, Earl always says that he was “raised by wolverines.”

Though his origins as a super remains shrouded in great mystery, his beginnings as a journalist are well documented. He was in his early twenties and was one of the bystanders watching the extremely radical superhero Danger Dude battle giant crystal overlord monsters with his superpowered skateboard. At some point, one of the crystal monsters exploded and impaled everyone with shards, killing and/or maiming all the observing men, women, children and news crews. However, Earl was one of the few who was unkilled, despite having a football-sized chunk of diamond in his chest. Danger Dude and his extremely radical skateboard was also unhurt, and upon seeing all the dead and dying journalist and noticing Earl pulling the diamond out of his chest and healing within mere seconds, grabbed a camera from the ground and handed it to Earl.

“Hey, kid, you good with a camera? With everyone dead and all…”

Turns out, Earl was good with a camera. Not only that, he was also a great reporter as well. Plopping the camera on a tripod, he interviewed Danger Dude, summarized the happenings of the entire battle, explained why all the journalists were dead, and signed off.

This stunt immediately got the attention of various news companies, which were, at the time, looking for brave men and women who could cover dangerous metahuman battles and the like without dying or getting seriously hurt. Earl Makeson, who reported Danger Dude’s battle on national television while unaware that a piece of crystal was still lodged in his head, was perfect for their needs.

Earl, not being stupid, knew that and decided to make himself a journalist specializing in all sorts of conflict zones. His first experience was working for the Planet’s Bugle as a ‘superchaser’, a reporter tasked with covering superfights anywhere and everywhere in America (particularly ‘hot’ places like Crowtalon and New York). As a new Planet’s Bugle superchaser, Earl was first assigned as the cameraman of the team but quickly got promoted when their reporter got his legs gnawed off by Morlocks. Since their senior superchaser didn’t have any legs to stand on anymore, Earl ended up doing the reporting on a number of climatic near-apocalyptic superfights – during which, Earl also interviewed both the superhero and the supervillain in a rapid-fire exchange. The ensuing conversation, live on national TV, was mostly dominated by the One Man Taskforce Mobius and arch-villain Nox Noctis exchanging witty banter while demolishing downtown New York.

During his time as a Planet’s Bugle correspondent, his fearless coverage of live superfights and his intrepid interviews of some of the most megalomaniacal and downright nutty villains ever garnered him a reputation of being an utterly fearless maverick journalist. His admirers would say he had balls of adamantium, while his detractors made him out as nothing more than a reckless adrenalin junkie with a microphone and a camera, needlessly endangering his co-workers. However, despite criticisms, the Planet’s Bugle ended up giving him his own show called ‘Crowtalon Correspondent’, which ran for several weeks and had Earl interview not only superheroes and supervillains, but also shady underworld figures, from alleged crime lords to brooding anti-heroes and vigilantes.

Crowtalon Correspondent ended when Earl’s news van exploded. The car bombing killed everyone of his crew except himself. Devastated, he resigned and decided to become a freelance journalist, working independently and alone, by himself, where no one else’s life would be at risk but his own.

His abilities that made him a superchaser also made him the perfect war correspondent – and he had extensive coverage on the brushfire conflicts in both Africa and Arabia. His experience in the so-called Operation Petroleum Freedom would greatly impact his life as he spent months in the desolate deserts and sand holes with the likes of Dark Liquid and Wild Geese mercenaries, along with United Nations blue helmets, and those who fought on the other side.

Some time later, in Africa, Earl ingrained himself with the UN task force providing humanitarian aid to the various territories captured by the forces of General Tiger. When the UN soldiers he was with came under fire from a militia machinegun nest, he bravely walked up to the militiamen, all while being torn to pieces by .50 caliber machinegun rounds. Then he told them that the UN blue helmets meant them no harm and then asked if they would be okay if he interviewed them. As with the supervillains back in America, Earl Makeson got his scoop.

His later attempt with interviewing Mustafa Crimson was not quite as successful though, but after running for his life through the pygmy-infested forests of Shaaka Abeeku, Makeson eventually found safe refuge in the hinterlands of the Ramillies family estate. There, the Lord of the Congo’s heirs gave him an in-depth account of their family’s battle against Mustafa’s forces, and a harrowing description of what was going on in Shaaka Abeeku, the true state of affairs that the outside world was then and still largely ignorant of.

When the All-Out Mechon Attack of ’96 broke out, Earl Makeson was right there at the very beginning when the legions of Damask the Destroyer came down to rain death upon the planet Earth. He covered events from the initial planetfall, the attack on the world’s cities and the subsequent civilian evacuation, to the unified resistance of all the world’s armies, militaries and heroes up until their ultimate but costly victory in that one week war. An attempt to get up close and personal with a Mechon nearly cost him his life, which is no mean feat, but the detailed footage he got was the public’s first ever look at their would-be oppressors.

From his days as a famous superchaser, he has with him some gear and equipment given to him by various friendly organizations, most notably Hero Labs, for being one of the few famous metahuman journalists around. Most notably, he has an indestructible hard backpack where he can carry rolls of film, memory sticks, water, snacks, supplies, tape recorders, notebooks, pencils, cameras, whatever tools an investigative journalist needs in war zones devastated by metahuman supervillains and militiamen armed with railguns. He has a handy digital video camera that, despite its very handy size, can transmit live through a compact but powerful transmitter. Recently, his handycam has been upgraded to be remote controlled and hover-capable – which makes the lack of a cameraman more tolerable.

Nowadays, though he is no longer a superchaser or a war correspondent, Earl Makeson can be seen in any extraordinary conflict zones throughout the world regardless of whether or not they involve battling metas or warring nations, or the battling metas of warring nations. He is a freelancer, and wherever it’s too dangerous for mere mortal journalists to tread, he’s there – live and on the air. Anyone, from innocent bystanders, fleeing screaming men, women, children, policemen and soldiers, superheroes and villains, madmen, aliens, despots, gods and monsters, everyone can and will be interviewed by the maverick metahuman reporter, Earl Makeson.

Most recently, Earl has covered the recent Berlin Hand Basket incident and has personally interviewed Phaeton the Wanderer in an exchange wherein the living star expounded his martial philosophies to the journalist.


Powers, Abilities and Weaknesses

Earl Makeson’s only special ability is his ungodly regenerative powers. Once, during a fight between Archwind and a giant robot from another dimension that claimed it was the resurrection of Montezuma, Archwind punched the giant robot and the robot ended up falling on Earl – literally turning him into a pancake. After the robot was disposed of, they found Earl’s flattened remains, scooped it up, and sent it to hospital for surgery. Not a month later, Earl was back in his feet, on a flight to Britain.

Aside from that, Earl is fluent in more than a handful of languages from all over the world. He is also very determined, and will ask anyone, no matter how dangerous-looking, for an interview. This, of course, has gotten him into a lot of trouble. But he gets better.

Earl also has a knack for arriving just right on time for whatever sort of carnage, mass destruction and horror to ensue. Either he has an unconscious ability to home into places that are about to experience the near-apocalypse, or his presence serves as a catalyst for said apocalyptic events. Because of this, many of the more cautious news crews who value their lives tend to shun him, or even outright packing their bags and skedaddling whenever he arrives on the spot.

However, his weakness is that his pain threshold is decisively un-metahuman, meaning that he doesn’t feel any less pain than a baseline. This means that while he doesn’t need conventional medicine, he still brings with him painkillers and anesthetics for those occasions when he gets reduced to a greasy smear on a smoking hole in the ground. His unfair and imbalanced rivals from certain news stations routinely claim that he is a morphine addict, which he vehemently denies by showing his totally legitimate prescriptions.


Relations:

Earl Makeson maintains cordial professional relations with almost everyone, from the awesome Archwind to the villains down at Tau Ceti (where he plans to film a documentary some day). Sometimes many of the small-times supers, both hero and villain, have tried to contact him to have their story told in such high-profile publications like the Planet’s Bugle. When he’s not busy getting shot at or chewed at, Earl tries to oblige them to the best of his abilities, telling their stories in the truthiest way he can.

From his experience in conflicts across the world, Earl has a mutual respect for many of those fighting on both sides – hero or villain, soldier or civilian. While he has strived to maintain his journalistic ethos by remaining neutral and not to getting personally involved with his job, his maverick nature has caused him to clash with many of those who would rather not let the inconvenient truth get out. Attempts at information control, be it by governments or private parties, have often fall short in the face of a nosy journo who simply can’t be killed – ever.

When a reporter has made a career out of chasing down extremely dangerous people – from alien cyborgs to genetically engineered killing machines - just to ask them for their side of the story, it’s pretty much a given that he’s not going to be afraid ask some very hard questions to just about anyone.

To those in the news business, Earl Makeson means many things. To many, he seems to be the last journalist with integrity, who’s not only willing to risk his life and limb for a story, but also his reputation. For others, he’s a glory seeking adrenalin/morphine junky who just brings bad luck, and giant killer robots, down on everyone’s heads… and right down on their news vans too. Doubly so for those who’ve worked with him, since right now he’s bereft of any cameraman or news crew and has to make do by himself with his camera-drone. To those who are particularly unfair and imbalanced, Earl Makeson is the personification of the Liberal Media.
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Re: Un-Innocent Bystanders

Post by Shroom Man 777 »

It was a bright sunny day outside the town courthouse. Crowds had gathered, most carrying banners with things like “Fry in Hell You Freak!” and “Mutite Murderers” written on them, others holding with their third and fourth limbs and/or tentacles signs with slogans like “Innocent Until Proven Guilty” and “Metahuman Pride”. Dotting these hordes of angry, shouting, protesting men and metas were media people, journos jostling for position with their staff-like microphones and bazooka-like video cameras – much to the protest of a few robed men in pointy white hats and scantily-clad women with furry cat ears who were in the process of arguing amongst each other.

“That bastard is guilty as hell!” one man shouted. “Put him in the electric chair! Roast his mutie ass!”

“Asbeston’s innocent until proven guilty!” a cyclops retorted. “And we don’t use the electric chair anymore, don’t you know that?”

“No I don’t!”

Suddenly, the sound of flapping wings silenced the angry mobs and mutants, all of whom pointed to the sky.

“Is it a bird?”

“Is it a plane?”

“It’s Archwind!”

“No it isn’t!”

Feathers, carried by the faint wind, floated down to the ground, a clue to the flyer’s identity.

“It’s-!”

He landed, expensive shoes touching down on the marble steps of the courthouse. The crowd gasped, parting to make way for his wingspan. He was dressed in a spiffy suit, no doubt very expensive but actually designed to be very aerodynamic, had neatly curled black hair, a handsome face, his dark skin contrasting the wings with white feathers…




Michelangelo Gabriel, Attorney at Law

In 1964, Michelle Gabriel gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Her husband, Gavin Gabriel, decided to name him Michelangelo. Shortly afterwards, they moved to Seattle, where Gavin got a job as a university professor and Michelle continued her practice, becoming a lawyer for the ACLU.

Raised by very intellectual and ethical parents, it was only natural that Michelangelo grew up to be a bright boy. He studied hard and aspired to become a lawyer like his mom, and his university professor dad helped him every step of the way. He got straight As in school, but most of the things he learned didn’t come from the classroom – it came from the trinity of his life: his mom, his dad and the television. His mom would teach him ethics and morality, his dad taught him things students years above his level had trouble grasping. His dad was especially great with history, and he learned about what happened to people in the past and how it related to events in the present day, which went well with what his mom taught him about the law and the dignity of all human beings. As for the television, young Michelangelo, despite being a super-smart kid, loved his superhero cartoons like any other boy his age – but it wasn’t just the cartoons. He also watched the news, and back in his childhood, the Civil Rights movement was in full swing. He would sit and watch the rallies and protests in the television, knowing that these were people struggling against the injustices of an unfair world, and that with them were supers who also fought for the rights and equality of all men despite their differences. It struck a chord with young Michelangelo early on in his formative years.

Right before he graduated high school, his mind was set – he would study to become a lawyer so that he could fight for those who needed someone to fight for them, those who needed more than just superpowers to save them. Just like Atticus Finch and the Skyhaven skypirate Boo Radley. But it was also right before his graduation that he found out, rather painfully, that he was a metahuman. In the case of most metas, mutations come forth at some point during puberty – for early boomers, they appear just as other pubescent traits manifest themselves, but in the case of late boomers, the mutations occur after everything else ran its course. Michelangelo was a late boomer, and his mutation was preceded by extremely painful back pain and nigh-paralyzing spinal trauma.

His parents feared that he would’ve ended up as a quadriplegic. When the unexplained growths on his back formed, it seemed very likely he was going to be permanently deformed at best. X-rays and other examinations could not definitely make out what was going on, surely it was a mutation, but exactly what it was mutating into was uncertain – they had to wait until later on to make a full proper diagnosis, for back then, the field of metamedicine was still at its humble beginnings. Although Michelangelo and his parents begged to have the massive growths removed, the doctors wouldn’t, fearing for Michelangelo’s overall safety. If they removed the growths while they were still developing, the mutation might have continued further on and a deformed, incomplete and mutilated organ might sprout out of young Michelangelo’s back. They gave him medication to deal with the pain, but until his mutation sorted itself out, all they could do was wait and watch.

Michelangelo was bedridden for months, lying on his belly and hooked on painkillers. He did not attend his graduation, though he finished his final exams on his bed and received his diploma by mail. It was a horrible ordeal, worse than any normal super growth spurt. Finally, the mutation had developed far enough, and the X-rays showed that inside the grotesquely huge deformation, inside the hunchback, was an extra set of limbs. Michelangelo and his parents consented to have the thing removed in extreme reconstructive surgery, despite the fact that the mutant limbs were connected to his spine.

The boy was anesthetized and they were preparing to go in.

It was a sad fact that a percentage of metahumans had mutations that were totally disfiguring and debilitating, sometimes fatal. Often, the only recourse was reconstructive surgery. The patient, Michelangelo Gabriel, was a particularly bad case. They had many metas with horrible internal growths, but Gabriel’s was not only connected to his spine, but several new muscle systems and blood vessels as well. That… complicated things.

This was going to be a very unorthodox procedure.

They would cut through the fleshy covering, through the mutated muscle, and remove the extra set of limbs with a bone saw. Hack it off, and amputate it. Avoid the nerves, clamp the blood vessels to prevent neurologic damage or shock. Then they would salvage whatever was left, patch it up, and let it heal. Fifty-fifty, he wasn’t going to walk again.

The nurse wiped the doctor’s brow with a sponge.

Then they went in.

He sliced through the mutated skin, tough, hard and calloused. Cut through the misplaced muscle tissue, peeled through the fat. The electrosurgical blade burned through the flesh, and the cauterization staunched the bleeding. They moved slowly, so took them long, but they had to be careful. They worked in relative silence, speaking only when they needed to, the quiet between interspaced by the beeping of lifesign monitors.

They began opening it up, so they could pull the internal limbs and begin severing it with the bone saw.

It was a bloody affair; they were stained up to the elbows of their surgical gowns.

“What is this? It’s like… hair covering the internal limbs,” the doctor said. “Nurse, pull out the first limb, prepare the saw.”

The pulled out one limb, and extended it.

The intern held the limb in place, the nurse handed the bone saw to the doctor.

The circular blade came to life with a whirr and spun. The doctor brought it to the limb and -

“It can’t be…” he gasped. “These are feathers… and this limb, it’s a wing!”

“Somebody go tell the parents, stat!”


They didn’t proceed with the amputation, but they did have the reconstructive surgery. If things proceeded naturally, without medical aid, the wings would’ve either developed internally and Michelangelo would’ve grown up to be a hunchback, unwittingly carrying his wings inside his body, or at some point the wings would’ve grown out of his back in a fashion that would most likely be very painful and quite messy. The reconstructive surgery spared him that – it fixed him back and ensured that the wings were fully out, rather than buried inside a mound of flesh and muscle.

Eventually, Michelangelo discovered that his wings weren’t just limp vestigials, in fact they had muscles that he could move. There were also other developments, unforeseen and unexpected physiological changes. When he was bedridden, he lost a considerable amount of weight, and check-ups revealed that his bones had developed into honeycombed, bird-like structures that were very light, yet very fragile. He was much lighter now, which made him theoretically able to fly, but he was also potentially very easily damaged – his bones could snap like a twig if he tripped or fell accidentally. Nevertheless, he was undeterred, and through intensive therapy he tried his damned best to work his wings and build up his physique.

But life was hectic. Attending university, exercising his extra limbs, and the routine medical checkups, they began to take their toll on Michelangelo. His grades slipped, his social life diminished. Though his parents were always there for him, as were close friends, not everyone in the university was so understanding. The anti-mutites called him a freak right in front of his face, and many began shunning him.

Depressed and craving for a release, Michelangelo continued on with his physical regime of exercises. Gaining the ability to fly, to soar into the sky, was the only thing he had going for him, it was the only goal he had then. His mother and father encouraged him to study, but in his state, he had little motivation for his academics. He dropped out, and gradually learned how to fly.

One day, he just went out and flew as fast as he could, as high as he could, flying into the sun like Icarus.

It was his first time in the air, and he wasn’t exactly sure of what he was doing. He flew into a downdraft, a pocket of cold air, and plummeted to the ground. His fall broke a multitude of his bones and he almost died. His parents found him, despite being so far away from home, and rushed him to the nearest hospital.

To the Melchoir Marlin Memorial Medical Center. There, the competent staff did their best to put him back together, using cutting-edge medical science to try and heal his broken bones in one go – and the operation was a success. Not only that, but the expert doctors also suggested a special program, one that would be paid from Melchoir Marlin II’s own pocket. The parents could not refuse, and neither could Michelangelo. The program was a year long and consisted of training, teaching him how to fly via simulations and wind tunnels, and medication. The training made him physically fit to fly, the simulations and wind tunnels made him a certified flyer, and the medication, a special concoction by a young scientist named Matthew Herzog, made the composition of Michelangelo’s bones as strong as that of a regular baseline’s without increasing their weight or ridding them their bird-like honeycomb structure.

Soon, Michelangelo could fly and land without risking severe injury. Now much better in health and spirit, he quickly regained his confidence and continued his studies, flying his way from home to school and back again, astounding the very same students who called him out.

He became a top-notch student, with high scores and good grades, noted for his participation in the debating team and his good manners. He would be frequently seen in the library, an odd sight, an angel burning the midnight candle, tie loosened and sleeves rolled up, and surrounded by dozens of very thick law books. He became a campus celebrity, even a mascot for the university. He graduated Cum Laude and would eventually join the ACLU, just like his mom. He would specialize in cases involving the mistreatment and discrimination of and against metahumans. Before that, however, he worked in several prestigious firms, starting off as a paralegal like everyone else before making his way up the ranks.

He sat there, his legs folded and his wings tucked. It was a well-furnished room with a good view of the Seattle skyline. Cool air-conditioning blew through his feathers. It was a little bit uncomfortable, his job interview.

“This is a very impressive resume, Mister Gabriel. Cum Laude, excellent grades. You’d make a fine addition to the firm,” the interviewer said. “Of course, we’re an equal opportunity employer and don’t discriminate against metahumans.”

“Thank you,” Michelangelo nodded. “Your firm’s good reputation was one of the reasons for my application.”

“Well, I guess this is it, then.” The interviewer smiled and stood up, offering her hand. Michelangelo got up, took it and shook. “Welcome aboard, Mister Gabriel. We expect a lot out of you.”


Through the years, Michelangelo has become a very prominent figure in the legal field of America. He has taken on many controversial and high-profile cases (often pro bono), most of which involve metahumans and other supers – sometimes wrongly accused metas, other times supervillains. The public has come to know him for his vocal support of metahuman rights, working alongside the likes of Senator Blackwell and pro-active heroes like the awesome Archwind. Though it was Archwind who coined the term ‘metahuman’ in an attempt to curb the use of degratory slurs against supers, Michelangelo was the one who made it the de-facto legalese term for ‘powered’ individuals and every legal document in America has since used ‘metahuman’ in referring to supers in general. In all his cases, he has worked his damned best to exonerate his clients and has almost always gotten results.

Michelangelo Gabriel is also a renowned expert in international metahuman law, and is a vocal critic of metahuman affairs in countries like Russia and the Philippines. In 2003, Michelangelo was amongst the ranks of a UN inspection team sent to the Tau Ceti Alpha Penitentiary to assess the treatment of imprisoned metahumans. He is also a legal consultant for the Guild of Light and Shadows, Hero Labs, and the Quartermass Experiment (and has lent a hand in their procurement of certain metahuman employees).

The crowd parted for him, but the media immediately zeroed in on him like sharks on a floating seagull.

“Mister Gabriel! Mister Gabriel!” they shoved their microphones and videocorders and obnoxiously bright flashlights and strobes and laser pointers at him. “Mister Gabriel!”

He tried his best to maneuver through them, but his wings were too clumsy. If they weren’t so fragile, he would’ve spread them open and shoved the journalists away.

“How is the trial proceeding, Mister Gabriel?”

“Mister Gabriel!”

“What comments do you have on…”

“…Mister Gabriel!”

“What can you say on…?”

“Mister Gabriel! Can you sign my shirt?!”

Michelangelo sighed and turned to face the cameras. “As I’ve said before, I firmly believe in the saying ‘Innocent Until Proven Guilty’, and my client, Mister Riebeckite, is completely innocent. The prosecution’s sole evidence against Mister Riebeckite is the power ring and supposed photographic evidence of Mister Riebeckite, otherwise known as Asbeston, wielding that ring, in his ring finger, against Joey Bloggs. This so-called evidence ignores the fact that Riebeckite does not use power rings, and the fact that, being a well-built metahuman composed of fire-proof materials, his fingers are too big for the power ring in question. Also, during the time of Joey Bloggs’ murder, the time when the photograph was taken, several key witnesses can attest that Riebeckite was with them, on the other side of the country, battling the supervillain known as Firestorm. Moreover, it is an established fact that Mister Riebeckite’s, Asbeston’s, rogues gallery includes known shapeshifters who could’ve easily assumed Asbeston’s form and wielded the power ring, which would’ve fitted their shape-shifting fingers, to vaporize Joey Bloggs. That is all.”

“Mister Gabriel, what you said was too long; can’t you just make a soundbite?”

Michelangelo rolled his eyes. Okay. “Alright. Gentlemen, what I am saying is this: If the ring doesn’t fit, then you must acquit.”
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Re: Un-Innocent Bystanders

Post by Booted Vulture »

This guy is awesome I love the 'explanation' for his powers. Raised by Wolverines! Makeson I mean. Not read the other guy's yet.

Edit: The other guy is also awesome. and its interesting that he needed surgery for his metahuman abilities to proceed. Most metahumans in comics and comix tend to gain total and usable abilities despite the unlikelihood of this in biology. And the dude stole OJ's line! :D
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Re: Un-Innocent Bystanders

Post by Peregrin »

Excellent that you reposted these, incidentally has either profile been changed since their last posting on the old board? For some reason Earl Makeson now reminds me of a superpowered Hunter S. Thompson only without his fetish for weaponry and hallucinogens... :lol:
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Re: Un-Innocent Bystanders

Post by Mobius 1 »

While I commented on Makeson over the chats, I don't think I ever caught Gabriel when he appeared on the original OZ. I like how, unlike most of the OZ characters, his powers are pretty much a minor detail compared to his concept and actions. Moreover, the To Kill a Mockingbird reference had me in stitches, specifically Boo Radley as a skypirate.
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Re: Un-Innocent Bystanders

Post by Peregrin »

That's actually not a reference to To Kill a Mockingbird as much as to a Flash animation parodying it, which helpfully bears the title How to Kill a Mockingbird. It's one of the weirdest things ever created, and I have no idea how many people have seen it but apparently at some point it was the internet-inside-joke-of-the-moment at some point in time between Timecube and the "O RLY?" owl.
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Re: Un-Innocent Bystanders

Post by Shroom Man 777 »

It's also one of my favorite things, like, ever. Likewise, I never saw/read the real To Kill a Mockingbird either.

(But I did write Gabriel while I was in my John Grisham kick back in the day. I also turned him into an African-American.)
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Re: Un-Innocent Bystanders

Post by Ford Prefect »

It's really good to see Gabriel back ont he board. Conceptually one of your more interesting ideas, and the execution is solid as well. I look forward to making use of his visage for legally/ethically ambiguous situations in future. Also, I highly approve of using my own words to introduce your character. More people should do that. :lol:
FEEL THESE GUNS ARCHWIND THESE ARE THE GUNS OF THE FLESHY MESSIAH THE TOOLS OF CREATION AND DESTRUCTION THAT WILL ENACT THE LAW OF MAN ACROSS THE UNIVERSE
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Shroom Man 777
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Re: Un-Innocent Bystanders

Post by Shroom Man 777 »

It is a subtle hint for you to get your butt back in gear so we can fix our damned signal-to-noise ratio problem over here. ;)

See, I just subtly told you that again.
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"Sometimes Shroomy I wonder if your imagination actually counts as some sort of war crime." - FROD
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