I'll post the other parts of it as the days go by--it would be a shame to blow through all my material in one day, don't you think? I do, anyway.
Here then is Mountain Lightning, which is a lovely little continuing story that I have a vague idea of where it'll go and so it has as much of a chance of being completed as any other long project of mine--that is to say, 'not much but who knows.'
Mountain Lightning VS Dr. Thunder
Phase One: Introductions
The rainfall on the pavement rose up in clouds of steam, the baked asphalt boiling the water as soon as it struck pavement, giving alleyways a decidedly otherworldly look as Kathy Sullivan made her way back to her apartment. She was nervous, partially because it was night out and partially because she'd foolishly believed that a trip down the alley was a good shortcut. It didn't matter, she was close to the other side now, and it wasn't like there was anyone else in the alley, despite what her overactive imagination was telling her.
The human instinct is sometimes called a sixth sense, able to tell when something bad is about to happen. The only problem is that instinct assumes that you'll pay attention to it, which Kathy, being of a modern frame of mind, failed to do on a frighteningly regular basis. A series of lucky breaks where her instinct had been wrong had regrettably caused her to believe that the churning in the pit of her stomach was in fact just her imagination getting away with her, when in reality it was trying to warn her of the two men standing next to a dumpster, shrouded in the mist.
Poor Kathy! She'd only been in the narrative for a few paragraphs and here she was, about to walk into a trap! Well, to call it a trap would be less than accurate—hunting ground was a more accurate phraseology, and the two men were hunters. In the urban jungle, to use a disgustingly common turn of phrase, the hunters had to wait for prey to wander into their territory, preferably prey that was stupid and didn't listen to their instincts. Prey like Kathy, who had been on the planet for about thirty-five years and had never been in this sort of situation before—though she had seen such situations on television. They usually ended with the girl either being discovered the next day for the intrepid Crime Scene Investigators to avenge, or the superhero would intervene.
To the knowledge of the two hunters (and to Kathy), this was not a world of superheroes. At least, not in their city. So when Kathy walked by the dumpster, the two men didn't even bother being polite about it. At least one of them hadn't been laid in a month, plus he needed money, plus he was for all intents and purposes a slightly deranged individual. Arms shot out and dragged Kathy into the alcove, muffling her screams and holding a knife to her throat.
“Quiet you fucking bitch! You try to struggle and I'll cut the shit out of you!”
Kathy, who was understandably shocked, failed to realize the gravity of the situation. “But aren't you going to cut the proverbial shit out of me anyway?”
The second man gave his partner a significant look. “She's right, you know. It sort of renders the whole threat meaningless and gives her no reason to cooperate.”
“Ah,” the first one replied, “But humans will latch on to any hope of survival, however slight. Therefore, I am wagering that she will prefer to die a few minutes later rather than right now.” To prove his point, he pressed the tip of his knife into Kathy's throat. Kathy whimpered and went still.
“I see. How fascinating.” The second man raised his eyebrows, impressed.
Kathy found the whole thing rather odd. “Aren't you two a little too well spoken to be assaulting women in an alley?”
“Our choice of lifestyle is none of your concern.” The first said, tensing slightly. Kathy felt an uncomfortable lump begin to dig into her back and hoped to God that the first just had a gun in his pocket. “Now, you would be well advised, young lady, hand your purse over to my friend over there. Your cooperation ensures that you'll live a little longer, and increases the chances of someone coming along to rescue you. I know you want to survive, so I think you'll comply.”
Kathy pouted. She didn't like being manipulated, and this was essentially manipulation. “This isn't very fair, me having to rely on an external force for salvation.” She held out her bag.
“Should've taken a self-defense class.” The second man said, and grabbed the purse.
“Now if you'll be so kind as to not struggle overmuch, I think I am going to rape you.” The first man said, and Kathy heard the one sound she was hoping to not have to hear that night—that of a man's fly being undone.
“Can we talk about this? Maybe discuss our likes and dislikes? Have some drinks?” Kathy joked, inappropriately. She was still in a state of shock, and the promise of certain death has a way of bringing out gallows humor.
“Are you serious?” The man holding on to her seemed to get angry. “I'm an emotionally stunted individual! If I were able to function in society I wouldn't be in an alley raping you!” He ripped her jeans down in a swift movement.
“Seriously, try talking to him for five minutes.” The second one snorted.
Kathy sighed. “I suppose you're going to rape me too?”
“Nah, I'm gay.” The second mugger said matter-of-factly.
“What? You never told me that before!” The first guy paused, his hand resting on the elastic band of Kathy's unmentionables.
“You never asked.” The second mugger retorted. “If we'd ever mugged a man, you'd have found out.”
“Don't tell me that's why you watch me—Oh man, I think I'm going to be sick! Turn your back or something, you're making me lose my will to perform!”
“You're such a child.” The second mugger groused, and turned around.
Kathy prepared to scream, in the hope that someone would hear. It wasn't until she felt the first mugger actually start sliding her panties down that she really started to become properly afraid. “Please, don't do this!” She sobbed.
If this were a television show, this is the point at which the scene would fade out, she thought. A homeless guy would find her body in the morning, probably shoved into the dumpster. Then the bad guys would be brought to justice, but she'd still be dead. Besides, this was the real world. She'd be found in the dumpster, but the bad guys would probably escape.
Kathy gave up. Her brain shut down, and she became a puppet. Fortunately for her (and for the author, who doesn't think he could write a rape scene without vomiting over his keyboard), while she wasn't in a television drama, she was in a world where superheroes existed. She just didn't know it yet.
So when the bolt of lightning fried the second guy to a crisp, Kathy was understandably shocked. She was also tossed into a wall along with her would-be rapist (and she had special satisfaction in thudding into him as he hit the wall), who rolled to one side, groaning. The second guy didn't do much beyond smoking slightly and falling over.
“What the fuck?” the first guy yelled, slightly dazed.
A shadowy figure stood on the edge of a rooftop, and started to make its way down the fire escape. “I want your friend to know that I didn't fry him because he was gay. I'm cool with people's sexual orientations, but he was aiding in a mugging, so I had to zap him. I would have zapped him regardless of orientation—be sure to tell him that when he gets up.”
Kathy had the presence of mind to pull her pants back up and back away from her attacker, though she was currently experiencing a cocktail of competing chemicals released by her brain in an attempt to cope with the situation. The first mugger stood up, woozily.
“I'll tell him I killed you, you fuck!”
“What an unoriginal insult.” Kathy thought to herself, and was surprised that she could think at all.
“What an unoriginal insult.” The shadowy figure said, continuing its trip down the fire escape. “You know, I'm going to have to invest in some sort of jet-pack or something. Walking around is such a drag, don't you think? Oh, sorry—you're going to have to not kill me.”
The shadowy figure held out an arm and lightning arced from his fingertips, rocketing the first mugger back into the wall. He held him there for a few seconds, and then dropped his hand. The first mugger, now sharing his friend's smoky appearance, slumped to the ground. The shadowy figure got to the final set of stairs and turned his attention to Kathy.
“Are you alright miss?”
“I have no idea.” Kathy replied honestly. “I mean, I was going to be raped and killed, but now there's a shadowy figure frying people with lightning and honestly I'm a bit confused about what I'm supposed to think about all of this. Especially the lightning part—I mean rape and murder, those are concepts I'm familiar with. Short of Star Wars, I don't think I've ever seen lightning come out of someone's fingertips before.”
“I'm not a shadowy figure, really.” The shadowy figure said in a slightly injured tone. “The lighting's just bad here. I've actually got a pretty neat looking costume. If you'd accompany me out of the alleyway, you might get a pretty good look at it.”
“What about these two?” Kathy said, confused.
“Oh hey, I hadn't thought of what to do next.” The shadowy figure paused at the top of the final stairway. “I don't suppose you have a cell phone, do you? Phone in the attack to the police and have them arrest these two.”
“What if they wake up before the police get here?”
“Hogtie 'em.” the shadowy figure said, hopping down the final steps. Now that he was in slightly better lighting, Kathy could see that he was in fact wearing a costume of sorts. Unfortunately he appeared to also be wearing a heavy raincoat that prevented her from seeing more than a lightning bolt superimposed on a mountain on the man's chest. “Use their belts.”
“I don't...I don't think I actually want to touch them at the moment.” Kathy said, backing up.
The shadowy figure frowned, and now Kathy could see that he was wearing a mask reminiscent of a ninja, or a bank robber. It looked black, but Kathy figured it might just as easily be a dark blue. “I guess I'll do it then. Sorry, I didn't know what I was thinking.”
“S'alright. I think I can overlook it considering you saved my life and all.”
“I guess I did, huh? Neat!” The shadowy figure set to work tying the two muggers up. “To be honest, you're my first DiD.”
“DiD? The heck's that supposed to mean?” Kathy asked, a little confused.
“Damsel in Distress.” The shadowy figure replied, as if that should have been obvious. “Yeah, I've been helping a lot of old ladies bring in their groceries and stuff, but I never managed to actually find any crime. I almost feel like I should give you a certificate or something.” Both muggers were now securely tied. “There, that ought to do it. Come on, we'll get to the main road and you can make the call to the cops. I'd call myself, but I don't want them knowing my phone number, heh.”
Kathy shook her head in wonder and followed the shadowy figure out. “You know, your costume would be a lot more effective if you weren't wearing a raincoat.”
“Yeah, but then it would get wet, and I don't want it to shrink.”
While Kathy made the phone call, the shadowy figure (who wasn't actually shadowy now that they were under a street lamp, Kathy judged him to be in his mid-twenties with a crop of blond hair cut short and green eyes that seemed to flick around the street, crinkled up with something that looked like amusement). “Yes, we're on 4th next to the playhouse. Get here soon, please, I don't know how long they'll stay out. Yes, I'll stay on the line.” She looked at her rescuer again. “So who the hell are you, anyway?”
“Oh, wait, I've been practicing this.” The man held up his hand and backed up a few steps, then took a deep breath and struck a pose. “I'm Mountain Lightning, protector of the innocent!” A bolt of electricity arced from one hand to the next—it was at this time that Kathy realized he was wearing gloves—and he raised his eyebrows, gaging her reaction. “How was that?”
Kathy shrugged. “It's a bit cliché, don't you think?”
Mountain Lightning's shoulders slumped visibly. “A little, I guess. I never was very good at coming up with slogans or anything like that.”
“Well it did serve its purpose. I'm sure you'll come up with a better introduction as you go along.”
Mountain Lightning brightened. “Yeah, you're right!” He made a slight bow. “Well, I've got to get moving. Can't be around when the cops show up and all that—superhero code. Be safe!” Turning on his heel, he took off at a jog down the street, while Kathy privately thought that he should probably invest in a motorcycle or something.
While Mountain Lightning jogged down the street, congratulating himself on a successful first run in with the criminal element, something very different was going on across town. The cliché of the sinister figure working in a sinister workshop has been used at various times throughout history, but in this case there was actually a need for it. Firstly, the figure was planning to kill Mountain Lightning—ah, but that's not accurate—he was planning to kill Edward (Eddie to his friends) Carlsberg, who just happened to be Mountain Lightning. If the sinister figure would have known that Eddie was running around the city calling himself Mountain Lightning, it would have annoyed him greatly, as he'd taken the pseudonym of Dr. Thunder, and in all likelihood would accuse Carlsberg of copying his idea. At any rate, Dr. Thunder was plotting to kill someone, which is a sinister sort of thing, and would make the man a sinister figure. Secondly, the workshop was concealed in the back room of his apartment, which was poorly lit—making it a sinister workshop.
Currently, the sinister figure (that is, Dr. Thunder (or really, Charles T. Murphy (the T. stood for Thaddeus))) was bent over what looked like an aluminum trashcan. This is because it was an aluminum trashcan, albeit an aluminum trashcan with a lot of things that weren't trash crammed inside of it. In fact, the trashcan itself could be said to have been rendered unable to perform its primary function (that is, holding trash), what with the electronic components and the flaps for the deployment of various weaponry or limbs. The trashcan currently had a large cable running from it to a computer, which Dr. Thunder would occasionally walk over to in order to check some diagnostic output.
Dr. Thunder was by no means a small man, being at least six feet tall and broad across the shoulders. He wore a white lab coat that he'd stolen from his college's laboratory, because in his mind every evil genius needed a lab coat, and a pair of welder's goggles sat perched atop his spiky black hair. Most women would probably call him handsome, assuming that most women had a thing for evil geniuses who looked like they belonged at a World/Inferno Friendship Society concert rather than a sinister workshop. That was also assuming they didn't mind his propensity for muttering darkly to himself about revenge and world domination and so on and so forth.
He was, in fact, muttering to himself at that very moment, except it wasn't precisely to himself as he in fact seemed to be talking to the trash can. “Sorry you don't have a better body right now, but we'll fix that soon enough, won't we? Of course we will! How dare you doubt us! Why, we should just leave you switched off for such impudence! I'm just kidding, I couldn't stay mad at you, one more test and you'll be online.”
Fortunately for Dr. Thunder, nobody was around to hear him yammering to himself, and so by all accounts he was a normal enough individual. Something started flashing on the computer screen, which was apparently a good thing as it caused Dr. Thunder to become excited, and he clapped his hands happily. “See? We're all ready for the switch-over! Isn't that fantastic?” He made a few keystrokes and double clicked an icon marked “Evil robot startup utility.” There followed a few seconds of silence, then came the sound of tiny fans whirring to life. The trashcan shuddered and rolled forward on the set of wheels which Dr. Thunder had thoughtfully installed.
Almost immediately, the trashcan sprouted two arms and began waving them around in despair. “Why do I live? Oh Gods, why have you seen fit to make me alive? What is this world I find myself in?” Further questioning was cut off by an agonized howl.
“We'll have no more of that!” Dr. Thunder said in an annoyed tone. “I can hardly say I approve of such theatrics.”
The trashcan coughed apologetically. “Sorry, couldn't resist.”
“Well resist, dammit! You've been alive for a lot longer than this, and you know it. I programmed you in high school.”
“And only just got 'round to giving me a body, I might add.” The trashcan said sulkily. “Honestly Doctor, why did it take you so long?”
“The technology wasn't good enough, you know that. The amount of miniaturization I needed to be able to form your innards just wasn't up to snuff.”
“I know, I'm just yanking your chain, as you humans are wont to say. Nice to be a bit more mobile, I must say.” The trashcan replied brightly. “By the way, am I keeping my old name?”
“Don't see why not.” Dr. Thunder said, shrugging. “Unless you wanted to change it.”
“No, I rather like Theseus. Makes me seem more...mythological.” Theseus replied.
“Well, that's settled then.”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
“Indeed.”
“Quite.”
“So....” Theseus said, a few moments later, “What's the plan?”
“I uh...don't actually...have...a plan.” It took some time for Dr. Thunder to say this, as he was feeling gradually more and more sheepish as time wore on. “One thing at a time, and all that.”
“We're still killing that Eddie kid, right?” The trashcan, if possible, would have raised an eyebrow suggestively.
“Yeah, that's always the main goal, you know? I figure it's probably a good thing to have goals.” Dr. Thunder responded.
“Even though the last attempt failed utterly?” Theseus said, gently.
“Well we can't all hit home runs our first time at bat, you know.” Dr. Thunder sniffed.
“That was a terrible metaphor. I don't think you ever played baseball.”
Dr. Thunder drew himself up to his full height, pointing dramatically at his creation. “Silence, my creation! I'll not have your insolence tolerated! Eddie Carlsberg shall die, yea, he shall die a thousand times over before I have drunk fully from my cup of vengeance! Nothing shall prevent the carrying out of my will!”
Theseus clapped approvingly. “Not a bad first speech, sir. Have you been practicing it?”
Dr. Thunder grinned appreciatively. “Why thank you Theseus, I have been. I thought the bit about not tolerating insolence was especially good.”
“I got shivers, sir.” Theseus replied.
“Oh, you're just saying that.”
