The year is 2023. It is a brave new age of dauntless superheroes and maniacal supervillains.
Ever since the first empowered individuals emerged in the 1970s, superheroes have been a staple of modern life - licensed by the governments of Earth as extensions of the police force with special privileges and expanded duties. Of course, there cannot be light without darkness... at the same time heroes arrived, villains rose up as well. The superpowered war between good and evil has raged on for decades.
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Towering white and chrome skyscrapers. Perfectly manicured public gardens. High-speed magnet railways that wove a sprawling web above the countless roads, plazas, and parks.
This place was far and away the wealthiest, most heavily populated metropolis on the East Coast. It was truly a city of the future - designed and built from the foundation up by a team of the greatest architects and scientific minds in history. Long ago, it had been called New Amsterdam, and after that, New York. But now it was Champion City, in honor of the hero that sacrificed his life to save it.
THWAM!!!
High, high over the bustling streets, two caped figures traded mighty blows. One, a powerfully built woman in a suit of golden armor, delivered a turning kick to her opponent's gut. The shockwave of the impact blew across the nearby buildings like a bomb going off, shattering windows into thousands of tiny shards that showered the pavement below. Most onlookers fled at the sight of the superpowered brawl. One, however, pedaled his bike as fast as he could towards it.
Huffing and puffing, the lean young man desparately willed his aching legs to keep going, his head craned up towards the blinding-fast battle five hundred feet up. He kept one hand on the handlebars, the other holding up his expensive HD camera.
"Alright, people. Scott Shuster here for HeroHub." he said into the built-in mic, keeping calm despite the heated fight above. He wasn't streaming, but certainly the video would be all over the net tomorrow, and his boss said he should plug the site at any given opportunity. "It looks we have Big Five member Warmaiden versus the supervillainess Black Tornado. I'd call it a catfight for the ages, but Black Tornado, woof. What a D-lister."
Another shockwave from Warmaiden, another hail of glass. He swerved under a nearby awning just in time, stopping in place and hunching down so he could keep his camera on the fight. Warmaiden's last strike had launched Black Tornado, the villainess slamming into the side of a skyscraper. Rubble and glass panes fell down like meteors from the sky.
"Ho-lee shit!" he laughed to himself, zooming in on the destruction. "Oh man, look at that collateral!"
Black Tornado shook off the injury and burst out of the impact crater, Warmaiden flying to meet her. Scott wiped the sweat from his brow and got back on his bike, taking off to follow the fight.
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Later that day...
Scott rode his bike through a busy shopping avenue lined with stores, his camera on a loop around his neck. He didn't wear a helmet, instead letting the wind flow through his wavy blond hair. Though there were millions upon millions of faces in Champion City, some recognized his in the crowd... and those who did, didn't have very nice things to say.
"Douchebag!"
"Asshole!"
"Get a life!"
He waved at them, keeping a smile.
HeroHub wasn't the most well liked or respected news outlet, and Scott Shuster wasn't its most well liked or respected reporter. He preferred the title "professional journalist for a popular metahuman news website," though most would just call him "that piece of shit paparazzi for the sleazy superhero version of TMZ." Still, the young man wore his HeroHub tee shirt proudly.
As he swerved through the crowds and tried his best not to hit any pedestrians, Scott wondered what articles of his people didn't like. Maybe it was the one about how gross Lightning Lady's cellulite was, or the one with the upskirt pictures of Crash Girl, or the one with the close-ups of Futureman's herpes sores...
Nah, he thought, couldn't be any of those. Those ones got the most clicks.
Scott banked around a corner, stopping in front of his bank and locking his bike to the rack in front of the building. Whistling, he jogged up the stairs and pulled the door open. A cool, air-conditioned breeze passed over him as he stepped inside and slid into the line for the front desk. The bank was a single, wide, brightly-lit room, with a long counter on one side and the bulk of the room taken up by people standing in rows. He would've gone for the ATM in the corner, but the wait to use it was actually longer than the wait to speak with a teller, and he was a guy who didn't like to waste too much time.
On the days he didn't set out to get photos of supers, Scott's life was pretty boring. He mostly just sat in his apartment playing video games or reading about superheroes online. HeroHub made him good money - the editor thought his pictures and videos were awesome - but an apartment in Champion City, even a crappy one-room one like his, had a hefty price tag. That's why he had to bike everywhere and eat ramen noodles three meals a day.
As he got towards the front of the line, he patted the pocket of his jacket. Two checks for his latest articles had come in the mail yesterday, and they'd be enough to cover half of his rent for the next month. The article on the new fight wouldn't have that particular HeroHub sauciness, but battle footage never failed to garner clicks.
He looked over the shoulders of the people in front of him to see who was at the desk. Thank God, it was Mavis! The lady might've been in her seventies, but she was a HeroHub fanatic.
"Oh, hello Scott!" when he got to the front, Mavis greeted Scott with a warm smile. That was rare for him. "How's your day been?"
"Fine. Only five people cursed me out so far."
Mavis laughed. "Haters, all of them. Any big scoops?"
He laid down his checks on the marble counter, which the old woman took. "Oh, nothing too big. Got some clips of that big fight that went down earlier today."
"Another fight?" she shook her head. "Who was it this time?"
"Warmaiden and Black Tornado. Warmaiden won, obviously... didn't even need to use her sword."
It was rare that a villain ever beat a hero. Only the rookie ones ever lost, and even then they'd start winning all their fights after they got some experience under their utility belt.
"Black Tornado... is that the Mexican lady?" Mavis asked, tapping her pen on her desk.
"I believe she's an ancient Aztec wind sorceress resurrected by black magic." Scott shrugged and leaned on the counter. "She's got the plain Jane leotard and cloak."
"Oh, that one." Mavis pretended to type something into her computer. She had finished processing his checks, and Scott knew that, but she had to at least look like she was working for their chat to continue. "What do you think of her, huh?"
"Being totally honest? She's boring. The witch thing could be cool, but she needs a better designer." he snorted. That made Mavis laugh again, and he laughed right with her. "No, really, she is trying to build herself up as some kinda nemesis to Warmaiden? With that lame costume? What a joke!"
"You just get right to it. They should have you on the show!"
That made Scott grin. In addition to the website, HeroHub had it's own TV program, which was the number one rated show for superhero gossip. His footage got its fair share of airtime, but he'd never been invited to talk on it at all.
"Say, you really think so?"
Behind Scott, someone cleared their throat. He turned around and felt the heat of a dozen angry stares from the others waiting in line. He decided maybe he should wrap things up here, and from the look on the bank teller's face she understood that too.
"Well, thank you Mavis." he said, straightening out his jacket. "I'll try and get my next article out fast."
"Can't wait!" she waved at him."Buh-bye!"
He walked up to the doors, but just as he reached for the handle...
BOOOM!!!
Scott was flung through the air, propelled by a sudden fiery explosion that blew apart the front of the bank. He crashed into the counter, collapsing to the floor in a daze. Driven by instinct alone, the young man had curled his body up around his camera, which protected it just enough to be unharmed by the blast. He, on the other hand, had a bad bruise where his body had smashed against the marble, and his clothes were burnt up and torn in places.
As he struggled to rise to his feet, he saw a statuesque woman stride confidently through the flame and wreckage. She wore a long trenchcoat and wide-brimmed hat, but quickly cast them off to reveal the domino mask and skintight black latex bodysuit beneath. Lines ran down the arms and legs of her costume, giving off an orange light like molten magma.
"Do I have everyone's attention?" she flicked small bits of rubble out of her honey blonde bob haircut, then rested her hands on her hips. An evil smile split her plump lips, stretching from one corner to the other of her supermodel face.
Even with his head in a haze, Scott recognized her almost immediately. It was the A-list supervillain, Bombshell!
She held out her hand, and viscous orange fluid flowed from the pores of her palm. It congealed into a gooey ball, which she slung towards one of the bank tellers - Mavis. It struck her hand, gluing her to the marble countertop.
Screams filled the air and drowned out all other noise. All at once, people flooded out of the bank, either trampling over each other for the side doors or braving to run through the flaming hole that was once the entrance. Scott was a different case. As soon as he got his bearings, he reached for his camera and hid himself behind a decorative plant, prepared to ride out whatever was going to happen and get some good footage in the process. It was pointless though. Bombshell caught sight of him quickly and gestured with a beckoning finger.
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"I see you there with your camera." even though she'd just blown up the front of a building, her voice was calm, low, and husky, with a strong Southern twang. "Come on out. I wont bite."
Though Scott was used to short interactions with supers, he'd never been this close to such an infamous villain before. Feeling himself begin to sweat, he crept out from behind his cover, lowering his camera.
"That the site you work for?" she said, pointing to the big red logo plastered on his shirt. He nodded. "HeroHub, love it. Want a few pictures?"
Scott couldn't begin to describe what he was feeling - disbelief at what was going on, fright at what could happen, and excitement at the thought of a big story. He nodded and wordlessly began to snap a few pics. For each one Bombshell struck a different sexy pose: sticking out her chest, arching her back, turning around to give Scott a nice view from behind.
The rumor going around was, before she became the ultimate anarchist criminal mastermind, Bombshell had tried to become a beauty pageant queen back in her home state. He wasn't usually the bad girl type, but he couldn't lie: the woman lived up to her name. Scott could totally see her as Miss Texas... it was hard to believe such a pretty, bubbly lady could be such a villain.
"Is that enough?" Bombshell asked as Scott looked through the pictures on his camera.
"No such thing." he mumbled back, clearly distracted.
While he was off guard, the woman held up her hands. She created two more sticky orange spheres and flung them at Scott, so fast he could barely track their motion.
"Whoa!"
The globs splattered against his sneakers and the tiles around his feet. It glowed from within like magma, and when Scott tried to move his feet, he found that they were anchored to the floor. He grabbed his leg and pulled as hard as he could, but it seemed like the more he struggled, the stronger the glue became. Scott knew what it was, but his brain could barely process what had just happened. It didn't want to process it.
"You're a supers kinda guy, right?" Bombshell kept her voice calm. "You know what I can do to you."
Bombshell's power was to produce a incredibly sticky, explosive substance from her body similar to C-4, which she could detonate on command. That substance was what stuck Mavis to the countertop, what kept Scott rooted in place, and what could reduce either of them to a cloud of red mist at a mere whim.
"Start filmin'." she ordered. "Everyone's gonna wanna see this."
With shaky hands he hit the record button on the side of the camera and aimed it at Bombshell. She unzipped the top of her latex bodysuit and pulled out a burlap sack - Scott wondered how itchy her boobs must've been. On the side of the sack was a dollar sign in green paint. Truly, the classic choice for bank robbers everywhere.
Bombshell strode up to Mavis, who was paralyzed by fear, and slammed the bag down on the marble counter. With a snap of her fingers, the orange goo that trapped the old woman's hand detonated. Lucky for Mavis, however, Bombshell was capable of controlling the power of her explosions, and the substance harmlessly burst into hot orange smoke.
"Fill that with as much money as you can cram in." the villainess gave the demand casually, glancing at her sharp black nails as if she was considering whether or not to get another coat of gloss. Dentures chattering, Mavis did as told, stuffing wads upon wads of cash into the bag.
By now, Scott was beginning to suspect that this wasn't an ordinary bank robbery. Bombshell was one of the biggest villains in Champion City. A simple heist like this was way below her paygrade - maybe if she was taking the whole vault, it'd make more sense. But one burlap sack of dollar bills?
While Mavis dug through her register, Bombshell turned to the camera. "Well, this is gonna take a while. Want an interview?"
"W-what's your plan here?" Scott stammered.
She raised an eyebrow, then lifted her hand to cover a yawn.
"What are you, stupid? I'm robbin' this bank, ain't that obvious?"
"I mean... you're, like, Bombshell. Isn't this a bit below you?"
"I've gotta fund my bigger projects somehow." she said. "Guns, ammo, missiles, jet planes, nukes, soda pop, it all ain't cheap."
Scott clammed up. He didn't know what else to say to that. It made enough sense, but he still had a strange feeling in his gut.
"I was hopin' you'd ask a fun question or two." she mock frowned. "Ain't I interestin' at all? Okay, here's some fun facts: I'm 36-24-36, I'm a Pisces, I love taking long walks on the beach-"
Suddenly, the entire building shook, a boom like thunder running through the air. Scott's pupils whipped around to the source of the noise, who was stood just beyond the broken wall.
A superhero had arrived.
The man had flown in so fast he had cratered the street when he landed, but he was unaffected by the powerful impact. His costume was immaculately white, to the point where it seemed to glow with a pearly luster. A square shield visor covered his eyes, and his long silver hair floated in the air as if it were weightless. Unfazed by the fire and rubble, he walked into the bank without missing a step.
"You're gonna be taking long walks around the prison yard, Bombshell."
Scott was happy to see Futureman, but in his heart, he knew that was a pretty bad quip.
Futureman was one of Champion City's top five heroes, or as they were popularly called, the Big Five. While the title usually went to Champion II, some said he was the strongest of the bunch. He was easily the most mysterious - while all the others kept their identities public, his was a secret to everybody. It was no surprise that he had showed up to face Bombshell... the two hated each other.
"I was beginnin' to wonder what was more important than me." There was a pout on her face and hurt in her voice, but Scott could tell she was faker than a three dollar bill. "You Fivers are always so busy."
She sat up on the bank counter and crossed one leg over the other. Mavis, who had been silent this whole time, was trying to slip away through a back door, but the villainess stuck her to the floor with one of her orange globs. The old woman fell over, desperately grabbing at her foot, but she only managed to get her hands stuck too.
Over the last few minutes, Scott's mind had been racing. He think he had Bombshell figured out.
Everyone knows that, under your average bank counter, there's a little panic button that sends a silent alert to the police when pressed. Since there were so many supervillains in Champion City, banks had a second button: one that would hail the nearest hero. Bombshell clearly wanted to draw Futureman's attention... but why? He knew the two of them had history, that she was his number one nemesis, but still, what was her goal here?
"Robbing a bank? Seems a little passé for you." Futureman crossed his arms. Seemed like the hero was just as suspicious as he was.
"Funny." Bombshell said, jerking her thumb at the young man stuck to the floor. "That's exactly what he said."
Futureman looked over to Scott. Though his eyes were hidden behind his visor, he could tell the man was staring at his tee shirt. Realization was evident on the visible 3/4ths of his face.
"Are you Scott?" he asked. "Scott... Sha, Shuster? You write for HeroHub?"
"Y-you know who I am?" Scott stammered, star-struck. "This is amazing, you're my favo-"
"Of course I do. You're the kid who posted my cold sores on that trashy website." The superhero cut him short.
Even through his opaque visor, Scott could feel the man's eyes searing a hole through his head.
"Was that me?" though he knew it was pointless, Scott started anxiously struggling against the orange goop again, trying to wrench his feet from his shoes. "I've written so many articles, I kind of forget all of them, you know, 24 hour news cycle, gotta stay up to date with rumors and-"
"Don't worry, kid." he said. "It's kinda my job to save you, no matter how much I don't want to."
When he saw the fear in Scott's eyes, spotted the camera in his hands, and realized he had the position to broadcast that quote to all of Champion City, he rolled it back.
"Just a joke, just a joke."
He rose up his hand, and a list of his powers began to run through Scott's head: energy blasts, hard light projections, telekinesis...
Scott's camera was ripped out from his sweaty hands, pulled through the air by a powerful, intangible force. The strap tore apart on the back of his neck, causing him to yelp out in pain as Futureman caught his camera out of the air. With incredible strength, he crushed it to bits of plastic and metal between his gloved hands, which the hero tossed over his shoulder like confetti.
"Ya'll done?" Bombshell asked.
While the two were having their little interaction, she had snatched up the burlap sack from the floor behind the counter. It was clutched in one of her hands, and palmed in the other Scott could see a small white device that kind of looked like a TV remote. Scott wondered what it was, and where she had pulled it from... maybe her cleavage again.
The woman started to walk for the door, Futureman reaching out an arm as if to tell her to stop. She paused in place, but still had a confident look on her face.
"You're gonna let me go, puddin'." she said, slinging the sack of money over her shoulder playfully and raising up her other hand. Her dainty fingers were poised to snap at the drop of a pin. "I can blow those two up with half a thought. You don't want old granny over there to be incinerated, right? Or mister reporter boy?"
Scott blinked. Mister reporter boy?
"You're right." Futureman said, waving his hand casually.
Suddenly, that same intangible force that pulled Scott's camera away earlier ripped the young man up from the orange goop. He hung suspended in midair, and he could see that Mavis had been freed as well, a shocked look on her face.
"It really would be a shame, wouldn't it?"
Bombshell didn't bother looking over her shoulder, unwavering.
"Listen up. With half a thought," the hero imitated her Texan accent with those words, "I could snap your neck seven different ways. So you've got three seconds to drop the cash and hand yourself over. Don't make me have to count."
He clasped his hands together, then pulled them apart. White energy flowed between them, which shaped itself into a pair of glowing white handcuffs. Still floating, Scott watched from above as Bombshell dropped the bag and walked towards Futureman.
It was then he realized that Futureman, with all his intellect and power, had somehow failed to notice the little white device in her hand.
"F-Futureman!" he called out. "She's, she's got a thing!"
But his words were too late. As soon as Bombshell was in range, she whipped her hand around and jabbed the remote straight into the hero's gut.
ZAP!!!
A bright blue shock lit up the room, the flash of light blinding everyone. Scott and Mavis dropped to the floor below, the telekinetic force holding them up fading away like a lightbulb with the plug pulled. Futureman convulsed from the sudden current, but recovered and moved to attack. He threw a punch at Bombshell's cheek... but stopped just before it made impact, staring at his fist with wide eyes and a gaped mouth.
His glove was melting. His visor was melting. His entire costume had turned to thick liquid, which pooled at his feet in a silvery-white puddle. Beneath it he wore a black tank top and shorts, looking just like any other older man you'd see out on the street. His gravity-defying hair drooped, falling to his shoulders and framing his shocked face.
"What..." his voice became hoarse and choked up as he stared down at himself, his hands frantically patting his body down as if he thought his suit had just turned invisible or something. "What did you just do...?"
Bombshell tucked the remote away into her suit with a smile, then decked him hard enough to send teeth flying.
Scott's jaw nearly fell to the floor. Futureman could take bullets and grenades and missiles to the face without a scratch, and while Bombshell was tough, she shouldn't have been able to do that. She seemed to be just as surprised as he was, holding up her fist as if in wonder of the sudden burst of strength.
Futureman struggled to get up from the blow, coughing and hacking on all fours. Blood oozed from the corner of his lip, and with each rasp of breath flecks were sent to the tiles. With a vicious grunt of effort, Bombshell smashed her heel down on the back of his neck, and Scott could hear a sickening crack.
"Well, that should do it." Bombshell flipped him over with the toe of her boot, checking if he was really dead. "Didn't expect that to be so easy, really."
She propped her elbow on her arm and her head on her hand. For a while, she was silent. Then she laughed to herself.
"I wish you had got all that." Bombshell said to Scott, looking back at him. She knelt down and sifted through the wreckage of his camera, which was close by her. Miraculously, the memory card had survived, and she tossed it through the air to Scott. Shellshocked, he let it hit him in the chest and drop to the floor.
"Can't wait to see all the headlines." the woman scooped up the money as if it was an afterthought, and just as abruptly as how she'd arrived, walked out through the ruined entrance. When she got to the door, she created one of her orange globs and threw it down at the empty road, letting the explosion propel her away.
It took Scott about a minute to realize what he had just seen. Futureman, one of the Big Five, an absolute A-lister, a hero with his face on lunchboxes and action figures... had just died in front of him. And the woman who did it, had made it look easy.
When he felt like he could move, he paced over to the marble counter and looked over it. Mavis was unconscious on the floor - he figured the drop earlier must've knocked her out, or maybe she'd just fainted out of stress at some point. Either was a possibility. Reaching his hand under the counter, he fumbled around for the security buttons, finding both just under the lip. His nerves strung on end, he pushed them both several times to be sure.
Scott drank in the destruction - the destroyed front entrance, the side doors nearly ripped off by the fleeing stampede, the cracked floor around Futureman's snapped neck. He did not want to be around when the police arrived, or even worse, another super. Hastily, he decided to leg it out of the place - kind of hard since his body hurt all over. His bike was still outside, and in a few minutes he could be far, far away from the situation.
On his rush out, he didn't notice when he stepped into the puddle that had been Futureman's costume. And he definitely didn't notice when the silvery fluid slithered its way up his leg...