csyphrett

So we select eight characters to pick and then pick our enemies roster. That sounds doable CES

South America is protected by the Birds of Paradise. Who are these six bird based heroes? CES

Maybe a green lantern, or Ben TEN. Not for the great powers but the mundane utility. I could upgrade my desktop, do my job in seconds, keep my house clean, and make enough money on sidejobs to pay my bills, so I didn't have to work that hard. I might even be able to get hired as a specialist for the police, or fire department. CES

The mercenary desert of death Flan worked security for the building. When everything went down, he was the first to try to move things outside away from the building. This Cube of Custard used his powers to try to push the villains away from the building as much as possible, and to rally the normal security guards on duty to help save the day. If you need an amazing amorphous arm of justice, you know who to hire. CES

The Blot is a murderer for hire that leaves a card with an ink blot on it. His other identity, Jimmy Torrance, is believed dead and buried after his hotel exploded during a Mafia conference busted by Richards and his colleagues, Paul Pauldron and Ted Tookem. CES

epilogue Buck Clinton and Deshawn Barden met at Maulton Mall. It was neutral ground for all of the gangs, not just the Aardvarks and Razorbacks. No one wanted to get kicked from the Mall. “What you want, Clinton?,” asked Barden. His group had spread out in a rough crescent around him. He frowned at the number of Aardvarks that had arrived with their leader. “I want to get rid of Log Man,” said Clinton. “He’s hurting my business, and I know he’s hurting yours.” “Do you really think that’s a good idea?,” said Barden. “The cops will be all over you if you try to make that happen.” “He’s all over me now,” said Clinton. “And I want him gone.” “So what you want from me?,” said Barden. He didn’t like the look of this. “I feel like I need something to draw Log Man out,” said Clinton. “Then I can get him to come after me on my terms. He won’t be able to back down even if he knew it was a trap. He’ll still have to do something.” “And what do you think you can do that will make him hound you more than what he is already doing?,” asked Barden. “I was thinking I could wipe all of you out,” said Clinton. “That would send a message. Then when Log Man comes at me, I could wipe him out. All I would have to do is get rid of the weapons and any witnesses after the deed’s done.” “So you’re drawing down on us here?,” said Barden. His hand reached for his waistband. Clinton raised a hand. More cars lit their lights. Gangsters got out, hauling serious hardware with them. They pointed the weapons at the Aardvarks. “I know a guy,” said Clinton. He waved a hand at the light machineguns he had procured. “He steals weapons from the Army and Marines. I told him about my problems with you and Log Man. He gave me these to deal with it. They fire a couple thousand rounds a second. They’ll chew up that wood gimp, just like they’re going to chew you up. What do you think of the plan now?” “I have one question,” said Barden. His hand never strayed from his waistband. If he got a chance, he was going to put one in his rival’s head. “What’s that?,” asked Clinton. “Did you tell Log Man about your plan?,” asked Barden. He pointed at the other group of Aardvarks. Clinton turned to look at what he was pointing at across the parking lot. He growled in anger as he saw the Log Mobile rolling right at the triggers on the Razorbacks. Some of the group turned to fire at the wooden car coming right at them. A silent explosion of discs slicing through cars and people sent some of the gunners ducking for cover. Then the Log Mobile rolled over one of the cars, crushing it under the wooden shaft of a wheel. Clinton turned. He couldn’t let this chance get away from him. He had to at least get rid of Barden. That was the end goal for this. Barden shot him before he could get his weapon out and ready. The distraction had been enough for him to draw his own weapon and start shooting and his first target had been the other gang leader. Barden felt an explosion of pain in his leg. He started limping away. He had to get looked at before something else happened. He fired into the general melee to cover his escape. Clinton sat up. Foam dripped from his mouth. He fired at Barden until the bullets stopped coming out of his gun. He jumped to his feet and charged his enemies with the empty gun to be used as a hammer against anyone in his way. The bullet holes in his shirt weren’t bleeding. Crushed bullets dropped to the ground as he moved. “I’ll teach you,” said Clinton. He dropped the magazine out of his pistol. He reloaded with a snap of his hands. “I’m going to be the one running things now.” He fired into Barden as the other gang leader tried to get into his car and make his getaway. He fired until he ran out of bullets. He threw the empty gun at another Razorback trying to get to his own car and drive away. He needed more bullets to shoot. Clinton looked around. There had to be a gun he could use. He needed to kill Log Man before he ran for it. Everyone else was trying to get to their cars and drive off. Flying wood was everywhere. Clinton had Barden’s car right there. All he had to do was get behind the wheel and take off. He could ditch it somewhere else and claim he had lent his car to one of his friends who had been dropped during the fighting. It wasn’t a perfect plan. It was better than getting hammered by the flying logs raining down on the lot. He ran to the driver’s side of the Cobalt and pulled open the door. The keys hung from the ignition. He smiled. Let them try to prove he had shot Barden. How were they going to do that when he fixed himself an alibi across town. Clinton slipped inside the car and slid the seat back. He turned the key and listened to the engine. He dropped the gear into drive and pushed the gas pedal all the way down. He needed to head for the exit and run from the mall as fast as possible. He couldn’t claim to be innocent if he got caught driving a dead man’s car from the scene of a gunfight. Something exploded behind him. He ducked his head, and kept going. Other cars ahead of him ran for the street just like he was. None of them got hostile with him as they all wanted to escape. Clinton glanced at his rearview mirror. He grimaced as the Log Mobile filled the glass. He wished he had something to deal with the masked man. He spotted a whirling piece of wood flying through the air. He yanked on the wheel. The log bounced off the rear passenger fender. He knew he had saved himself from a takedown. If that thing had come through the window, there was no telling what it would have done to him. Clinton decided to split off from the running group. Log Man couldn’t chase them all. He would probably go after the ones that stuck together. By the time he got back to chasing a lone driver, the gangster planned to have dumped the car and gone somewhere he couldn’t be touched. The Log Mobile rolled up on his left. He looked over. That kid waved at him. Then the kid exploded in a storm of wooden discs slicing through the air. His tire came apart, dropping the car on its rim. The wheel jerked in his hand. He hit a telephone pole before he could put on the brakes. Clinton pushed the air bag out of his face as he tried to get out of the wrecked car. He hated vigilantes. They were worse than cops. He hated them more than anything. Why couldn’t they have left him alone? Now everything was in ruins thanks to two geeks in wooden costumes. He got out of the wreck. He could still get away from the scene if he could get away from Log Man. He still had a chance. “It’s over, Clinton,” said Log Man. The vigilante climbed out of his strange car with his cape waving around him. “You killed Barden, and you’re going to jail over it.” “You’re not taking me anywhere, puppet boy,” said Clinton. “I’ll take you apart.” “I don’t have time for this,” said Log Man. He pointed his hand at his enemy. A stream of logs flew across the feet separating the two men. Clinton went down under the assault. “I told you to get out of town. You should have listened. Now the police are going to hand you to people to cart you out of town. Congratulations.” Sirens filled the air. Log Man dropped a column on Clinton to keep him from going anywhere. He shook his head as he walked back to the Log Mobile and drove off into the night. Clinton struggled to get out from under the weight. He swore as he pushed on the wood. He had to get away before the police arrived and took him away. Everyone would say he killed Barden. He was in deeper trouble than just a prison sentence if he went in. He tried to push to one side. If he could get most of his torso out of the way, he could just roll it off his arm. Then he could get up and run. Flashing lights told him he was too late. Uniforms approached. They examined his situation without saying anything. “How you doing?,” said one of the uniforms. “I’m Officer Crookshanks. It looks like you have a problem, bud. You want to tell me how you wound up under what looks like a telephone pole next to a wrecked car?” “No, I don’t,” said Clinton. “Can you get this thing off me?” “I think we’ll need firefighters to do that,” said Crookshanks. “Call this in, will you, Jerry? We’ll get someone out here who can lift that log up and take him down to the ER. I think he’s going to be booked and put in a cell after that.” “I’ll say,” said Jerry. The End

He did run for president and lost his primary. CES

I think the state he represents is Kentucky. I assume he got help from his dad, and the Republican machine in that state. The only thing that stands out in his record is a consistent vote against any social help programs like the ACA, Disability cost of living raises, SNAP expansion. Essentially he is famous for voting against any effort to help anyone. CES

he's the guy who got beaten by his neighbor over a bush. CES

I need two picks and a title. I am picking Jane Marple as my last hero, and Mrs Seeton as my last optional character . The title is going to be a train bound to nowhere Title: A Train Bound To Nowhere Author: Walter Gibson Character: the old man in the corner (The Case of Miss Eliott) Character: Professor Van Dusen (The Thinking Machine) Character: Nick Charles (The Thin Man) Character: Father Brown (The Innocence of Father Brown) Character: Lord Darcy Character: Mr. Harley Quin (The Mysterious Mr. Quin) Character: Jane Marple Option: The Orient Express (Murder on the Orient Express) Option:Nora Charles (The Thin Man) Option: Mrs. Seeton

Spectrum News reported that a guy hoarding hand sanitizer in Tenn was selling it on Amazon at a huge markup. Someone found out about his stash and the Attorney General got involved and took everything and gave it away CES

Log Man decided the best thing to do was to get the other man to come to the door. If he could do that, then maybe he could use his power to change things around. How did he get that to happen? He decided that he should knock on the door. That should get things started. If he could get the man talking, that would give him a location to target. Log Man knocked on the door. That was the easiest thing for him to do. Hopefully the guy didn’t just start shooting. “Who’s there?,” said the other voice. “Mr. Fabreau?,” asked Log Man. He hoped it was the same man that belonged to the nameplate on the door. “This is Log Man. The police are cordoning off the building. I expect they will come in after you in a few minutes. Why don’t you come out before things get worse.” “Why should I make it easier for them?,” said Fabreau. “I have a hostage. I can shoot him if I don’t get what I want.” “I don’t think that will help you exactly like you think it will,” said Log Man. He listened, trying to pinpoint where the man was in the office. “Shooting your hostage will just make it where they will want to shoot you instead of talking you down. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? I can call somebody and see if I can get you some kind of leeway.” “My life is over,” said Fabreau. “This guy is going to expose me and the deals I made. I can’t let that happen.” “It’s too late for that,” said Log Man. “You could have bluffed things out if the building hadn’t seen you pulling a gun.” Log Man didn’t know if that was what had happened, but someone must have seen what was going on. Then they had called the cops. The rest of the building had fled to the exits. “What was I going to do?,” said Fabreau. “This guy was all in my face, asking me about the land I bought. He wanted to know why there was a discrepancy in the money moving through the office. He said he had copies of the receipts. I couldn’t let him wreck everything. It’s not like I could invite him to lunch.” “I know,” said Log Man. “Reporters. They’re the worse. Don’t you think this is a little overboard. You might been able to explain everything away in a court. Now you might be shot. You don’t want to get shot. The police don’t want to shoot you. Why don’t you come out here and we’ll go down and talk to one of the officers surrounding the building.” “I’m going to make it worth it going to prison,” said Fabreau. “I’m going to shoot this guy first. That will get me a good stretch for something major. That way I don’t have to worry about picking up the pieces of my life when I get out. There aren’t any jobs for a bookkeeper who went over the line.” “I think that’s just adding on to your problems, Mr. Fabreau,” said Log Man. He raised his hands to point at the inset window of the office door. “I think you should just leave the gun on the desk and come out of there.” “What if I don’t?,” said Fabreau, “I’ll come in and get you,” said Log Man. “You don’t want that. I’m a vigilante. I might use excessive force.” “I would like to see you try that,” said Fabreau. “All right,” said Log Man. “I’m coming in.” He blasted a stream of wood through the window. He heard someone scream. He hoped he had hit the right guy. Log Man opened the door and shouldered it out of the way. He raised his hand and pointed it at the stricken accountant. Phillips stood in a corner. He had his hands up to protect his face however much that would stop a bullet. “You might want to get out of here before he tries to use you for a hostage again,” said Log Man. He used a thumb to indicate the doorway. “I didn’t think he would try to shoot me over a land grab,” said Phillips. “Go,” said Log Man. He kicked the pistol from Fabreau’s straining hand. “The police might shoot you. Look non-threatening.” “All right,” said Phillips. “I need to call this in to the paper. I’ll be on the front page tomorrow.” “Would you just get the heck out of here already?,” asked Log Man. “Otherwise, I’m dropping you out the window.” “Can I get an interview?,” asked Phillips. “The editor would love that.” “All right. Out the window you go,” said Log Man. Phillips went out of the door. He looked over his shoulder as Log Man waved at him to keep going. Log Man shook his head. At least he didn’t have to move the wood out of the way. The police and emergency services could do that when they got there. He should have asked Phillips how much money was involved in this before he had given his okay to chase the story. He had a feeling he had thought a penny ante sum was there, when it was really in the millions. He still had to get his bag and head over to the lawyer’s office. Phillips would be calling the office to report everything first hand. Log Man saving the day would be in the headlines unless he squashed it somehow. And he didn’t see how he could do that. Log Man made sure Fabreau couldn’t get to his pistol before he left the office. He looked up and down the corridor. He thought he heard footsteps. If Phillips had reached a policeman, this might be them coming to ask him questions. He needed to get by them and head out of the building before someone decided to lock him down. He didn’t want to reveal his identity to the world. That would cause a lot more trouble than just the threat to his wife and son. He doubted he could hide in one of the offices until things were cleared up. He still had to get across town. He decided to head to the stairs. The police would have it cordoned off, but maybe he could slip by. He didn’t see anyone in the hall as he rushed the stairwell. He heard the elevator. Phillips must be taking it down to the lobby. The police might not know it was safe to enter the building yet. That gave him some time. Log Man entered the stairwell. He created a pole to carry him up to the roof door, and stepped outside. He didn’t see any helicopters in the sky. That was good. He ran to the edge of the roof and dropped down to the ground on another pole hooked to the rampart of the roof. He walked to the edge of the lot he was in and created the Log Mobile, and drove away. He pulled into a public parking garage and covered any cameras that looked like they could see where he parked the Log Mobile. He took it apart and headed into the public stairwell. He discarded his disguise and walked out of the public entrance. He headed back to the paper to get his Datsun, and his case. Logan walked along, keeping his eyes open. City Hall would be surrounded by police. He needed to get his Datsun out of the garage and around all that. He should call Ken to let him know that he had tried to get into the building and been rebuffed. He hoped that would cover his secret well enough for him not to be on the front page with everything he had ever done on both sides of the law out for everyone to read. He pulled out his phone and called his editor. If he was going to construct a lie, he might as well do it. “I don’t have time to talk,” said Ken. “Leave a message.” The phone beeped in Logan’s ear. “I couldn’t get into City Hall to track down Phillips,” said Logan. “Something is going on. We might need to cover it. Call me back when you have a minute.” He hung up the phone. That went easier than he thought it would. He supposed Phillips was filling him in on what had happened, and everything that had led up to it. He used the public access to get into the paper’s parking garage and got behind the wheel of his Datsun. He drove out of the garage. He still had to worry about the potential buying problem, and if Buffy was going to drive the price up. He didn’t need that headache to get worse at all. He was glad that his city didn’t have major villain problems wanting to take him on. He would be busy all hours of the day and night putting out fires. Logan drove around the mess that Downtown had become with the police on duty and rolled to the office building his lawyers rented space in. He found parking at a nearby hotel and went into the building. Ken called as he stepped into the elevator. He went to the back of the cab after pushing the floor button. “Go ahead, Ken,” Logan said. “We have a first hand account of Log Man trying to talk this guy down from killing Phillips,” said Ken. “We even have pictures. I’m running this on the front page tomorrow.” “Do we have turn any of this over as evidence?,” asked Logan. The police were going to want to shore up their case. Pictures of the crime in action would draw their interest. “I don’t know,” admitted Ken. “Give them copies anyway,” said Logan. “That way it makes us look good, and it puts the guy in jail.” “Got it,” said Ken. He hung up.

9 Logan sat at his desk. Things seemed to be quiet in the city now, but he still had to visit the animal gangs on his way home. They hadn’t left town, and they hadn’t given him anything. So he had to make their staying in town as painful as possible. He wondered how far he could push them before they broke and pulled out the hardware. He decided it wouldn’t be long. Then they could see how many of the weapons matched up with the Garret Shooting. The police hadn’t caught them with weapons yet. Maybe pushing them would get that much. And just randomly showing up was letting him take their money and destroy any drugs he might find. That wasn’t making him any fans, except to the charities he was giving the money too. The only thing that looked outstanding on his billet was the embezzler Phillips was chasing. If they could nail that down, it would have been a sweet few days of street justice handed out. He wanted to talk to Phillips about that, but decided there was no use pushing the man. Either his reporter was chasing it, or he wasn’t. Standing behind him wouldn’t make the story write itself faster. And financial crimes was one of the most complicated things to unravel and report on. Even if Phillips had the guy, they might not have all the evidence to do anything about it. Logan didn’t like the silence. It was his paper’s reputation on the line if Phillips messed up. At least Teflon Billy was in court. They hadn’t been able to unmask him, but he had been kept under guard since being in jail. Logan expected his power was allowing him to keep his mask on. It was the only explanation that jumped to mind. Maybe he could reverse how slick he made things. If that was the case, the mask could be glued to his face until he wanted to take it off. And there was no proof of a connection to Lane Gentry. That would have been something to hang everything on. Billy hadn’t talked about how he had known about the security arrangements, his fence, or if he had been commissioned to rob the displays for the money. Gentry could still be involved in all of that. And as long as Billy didn’t talk, he could still walk away without worrying about the law coming down on him. Logan put that out of his mind. He had nothing but suspicion. He couldn’t chase after a man just because he felt the man was an accessory to a string of thefts across the country. Maybe he should ask Phillips to check where Gentry was when the other thefts had taken place. It might link him to the moving of the gems. That was another thing to put on his to do list. Logan thought maybe he could swing enough to buy the group of papers downstate as long as Buffy didn’t get involved. If that happened, the price for the papers might be out of reach. Whenever he got involved, sellers thought he would give them a better deal than the one they were getting from other buyers on the field. It didn’t always go down that way. There was nothing he could do about that other than beating Buffy with a log. He smiled at the thought, but put it aside. He couldn’t abuse the power of the wood on an innocent man’s noggin, no matter how much he wanted to avenge the losses he had already taken in fair play. On the other hand, if Buffy was cheating somehow, then a whacking was in order. He looked up as a shadow filled his vision. His editor stood there, looking around the bullpen. “You seen Phillips?,” asked Ken. “No,” said Logan. “Why?” “He said he was going to call in after he spoke with some people down at City Hall about a story he was chasing,” said Ken. “I haven’t heard from him. I know he has been digging for you on some things, and I was wondering if you had talked to him.” “Not today,” said Logan. “He was still trying to nail this embezzler thing the last I talked to him.” “Embezzler in City Hall?,” asked Ken. “That, or the county office somewhere,” said Logan. “You don’t think he went down to brace the guy himself, do you?,” asked Ken. “I don’t know,” said Logan. “What’s he driving? I’ll go down and check if his car is in the city lot.” “Thanks,” said Ken. “I’m probably worrying over nothing.” “It’s no problem,” said Logan. “I was going to have to go by there on the way to the lawyers anyway. What’s he driving?” “It’s an old Crown Victoria,” said Ken. “He bought it off the police department at an auction.” “Does it still have the police colors on it?,” asked Logan. “They had all that taken off,” said Ken. “It just looks like an old car now.” “All right,” said Logan. “I’ll go down and tell him to call you before I head over to the lawyers. It should be a snap.” “Thanks, Logan,” said Ken. “In the old days, we wouldn’t have worried if one of our guys had gone off the grid. Now they might wind up in a trunk somewhere.” “They could have wound up in a trunk in the old days too,” said Logan. He stood and packed up the papers he had been reading. “We just didn’t care that much if they did.” “You’re right about that,” said Ken. “Don’t worry, Mother Hen,” said Logan. He smiled. “I’ll look out for your lost chick.” “Thanks a lot,” said Ken. He glanced at one of his other reporters. “Looks like I have another fire to put out.” Logan took his briefcase full of papers and went down to his parked Datsun. He stowed them in the back. He headed for a street exit. The government center wasn’t that far away. He would walk over, look for Phillips, grab something to eat, and then come back for the papers to go to his lawyers for review. Had Phillips actually tracked the embezzler down? If he had, he would have to prove things in court. The paper would have to decide on how much they could print before they were making statements that could be slurs and defamation. Things might get messy. Logan wasn’t worried about that. The paper had dealt with a lot of people who had tried to sue for the damage to their careers. Unfortunately for them, the truth won over any hurt feelings. Logan paused when he saw a build up of police around City Hall. What was going on? He hadn’t seen any television crews yet. This must have just started. He walked over to a cop putting up a ribbon barricade. The cop refused to acknowledge his presence. “Hey, bud,” Logan said. “What’s going on? I’m supposed to talk with some people about my rotifer.” “You’re going to have to move on,” said the cop. “Nobody is going to be able to talk to you about your rotifer right now.” “Thanks, Officer,” said Logan. He walked away, looking for concealment on the street. He wondered at the chances of Phillips being at City Hall and this going on could be unconnected. He thought it unlikely. A SWAT team should be on the way. After that would be waiting around and hoping nothing bad happened. He would rather go in and look around for himself. If it was something he couldn’t handle, he would be glad to give SWAT their chance. The first step was getting in the building while the police seemed to be clearing everyone out so they could deal with the problem. Logan found a narrow alley between a book store and a coffee place. He gathered his wooden form over his body, then the cape of leaves. Once the mask was in place, he had to get across the street and inside the City Hall. Log Man extended a staff out of his hand, using it to get to the roof of the book store. He leaned it against the building as he looked over at the government center. He needed to get over and punch through one of the windows to get inside. That part should be easy enough to do. He backed up from the edge of the book store. Then he ran for the edge, summoning his power. He ran on a platform growing under his feet above the crowd below. He used a thrown log to bust the window before he got to it. Then he was inside and listening for anyone who might have heard him. Log Man sighed at the broken glass he had spread over the office. He couldn’t do anything about it now. He went to the office and looked outside. The police had either cleared this floor already, or the staff had cleared out on their own when the problems started. It didn’t matter which since the hall seemed empty so he didn’t have to worry about bystanders getting in his way when he started punching people in the face. He went to the stairs. SWAT would be setting up soon enough. They would want to call and open a line to negotiate through. Would their criminal take that chance for a peaceful resolution? Log Man didn’t know. He expected a shootout in the works if he let things get to where the police were tired of trying to talk down someone in the middle of having some kind personal crisis. He went to the stairs. Elevators would just give him away, and he could listen at the stairwell doors for the police and the bad guy. He decided that the problem was above him somewhere. He could hear people heading down to the lobby. He worked his way up, checking at each landing. Finally he heard someone ranting. This had to be the place. He checked the hall. No one else seemed to be around. He crept down the hall, pausing at the office door that blocked most of the rant that was going on. The pebbled inset window didn’t block sound, but it concealed the hall from view. Log Man frowned when he heard Phillips trying to reason with his captor. He didn’t think that was a good move at all.

Player: csyphrett Title: Author: Walter Gibson Character: the old man in the corner (The Case of Miss Eliott) Character: Professor Van Dusen (The Thinking Machine) Character: Nick Charles (The Thin Man) Character: Father Brown (The Innocence of Father Brown) Character: Character: Mr. Harley Quin (The Mysterious Mr. Quin) Character: Option: The Orient Express (Murder on the Orient Express) Option:Nora Charles (The Thin Man) Option: I think I am down one pick from yesterday. I think I will pick Lord Darcy CES

Ikki Kaname earned his hero name at the Battle of Philadephia. He didn't know how much of a difference he made overall, but his ability to control acceleration certainly saved some people from certain death. His reputation has only grown as the hero Go. CES

When Meggido put together his plan to do his raid, he hired Dale Petty to handle any transportation problems. Dale agreed. As the Road King, his ability to use any road as a teleport gate was a good way to ensure an escape if it was needed. Dale wound up engaging the SWAT teams and other law enforcement until it was time to leave. CES

It's Dan. I admit I used a pun, but you know that's how I get sometimes. CES

I need two more heroes and two more options. I would like to option the Orient Express. CES

Let me think about this. I am supposed to be writing on Imaginary Railroads. Maybe something will present itself CES

We have one person at work who is Bernie or bust. The rest are trump guys and one libertarian who might as well be a Trump guy. I heard so many Killerys, emails, whatever. I finally was like you guys are as dumb as a box of rocks hunting Big Foot. CES

The Tumbler arrived on the scene, using his acrobatic prowess to help where he could. He left in a bag, caught in an explosion and burned beyond all recognition. CES

What's the rundown so far, DT CES

With the optioning of Nora Charles, I have the Thin Man Team. Father Brown is a good cleric, The Thinking Machine and The old Man in the Corner are all logic and deduction I like to pick some weird things too. I am grabbing up Mr. Harley Quin as my fifth detective. CES

Walter Washington created a masked identity for himself when he became a flying brick. Adopting a patriotic suit, he became known as the Burning Eagle for his aura of flames. He joined the Scions of Liberty and took part in the massive battle, his tremendous strength and natural armor allowing him to put down villain after villain as he protected the civilians fleeing from the scene. Walter had to use deadly force for the first time in his career, and after the battle he retired for the most part. Every once in a while, someone would report a burning trail of energy heading to a natural disaster. no could claim that was the Burning Eagle back on the job CES

The Will of the Universe 5000 bc- When the hand of the Destroyer reached out, it pierced the veil between two worlds. That created turbulence. That turbulence created something to fight back the intrusion. It knew its purpose as soon as it was born. It knew everything that the spirit world knew. It’s ability to convert the energy of the world into magic matched any magician without the years of training. It felt small compared to what was trying to come through the veil between universes and wreck the Earth. It looked up at the giant hand reaching into its mother’s reality. Its purpose asserted itself. This has to be pushed back. “Are you all right?,” asked one of the humans on the ground with it. Magic formed around his hands. “I don’t know,” it said. The sound was thought changed to phonetics and spoken without speaking. “I don’t know what I am.” “Decide quickly,” said another man. He drew an arrow from a quiver and shot it into the giant hand reaching for them. It reached out and started trying to close the door. Its personal power was nothing compared to what it was facing. It just wasn’t able to channel more energy. If it could, it might destroy the planet by accident while fighting the invasion. The human magician tried to boost its power. It felt will pour into it. It wasn’t enough. What could they do if they couldn’t close the door? “I didn’t think this would be happening when I became an adventurer,” said another. He wore clothes from some faraway land. “What can we do here, Hakim?” “I have no idea,” said the other, a servant by his clothes. “I don’t think I can do much on my own. Perhaps I can bolster the closing spells.” “So the three of us will try to reverse things while Cain and the other try to stop the summoner,” said the human magician. “Let us see what we can do.” It joined with the magician. Their control of the energy being poured out by the Well of the World made some resistance, but it wasn’t enough. Then the servant added its efforts. They had built a crumbling wall to hold the giant hand back. Then the veil shook. It perceived that the others that had arrived had seized control of the Well. They had engaged with the summoner and he had been knocked out of position. “We need to keep up the pressure,” said the human magician. “We can’t allow the portal to stabilize again.” It asked for more power to meet the challenge. The world blazed with the effort. It knew that it could be causing mortals to be expiring from what it was doing. It felt like it had no choice. If they didn’t fight off this invasion, then there would be no world for mortals to enjoy. “We’re doing it,” said the magician. “We just need a little more.” “We have a problem,” said the master of the Djinn. “It looks like our summoner has spirits to fight for him.” It turned to face a pillar of fire bearing down on it. It didn’t have time for this. It was trying to save the world. Didn’t the summoner know what would happen if things were allowed to stand? Didn’t he care? It diverted some of its energy into trying to blast the fire away. The Destroyer was about to open the door so wide they couldn’t close it. That had to be more important than a fire elemental. The fire elemental disagreed with its assessment. The arcane blast didn’t slow the flames down as it tried to burn the new being in front of it. “Allow me,” said the magician. The magician waved a hand. His opponent was some kind of fish made out of water. Ice ran through the core of the thing, freezing it in the air as it flew at him. He diverted the flight into the fire elemental. The opposites began battling each other instead of trying to kill the summoner’s opponents. The magician buried them both in the sand as a way to get rid of them. Once they decided to stop fighting, they might be back. Until then, their natures demanded satisfaction. It looked around. The others were busy holding off their own opponents. It was critical to get the Djinn back in play to help close the door. The two mortals should be helped as a matter of course, but it wasn’t strictly necessary from its point of view. There were always more mortals to draw life from to keep going until something happened and there were none left. It decided that the best thing to do was to help the Djinn with the other air spirit. Then it could deal with the last two problems easily. “Bottle it, Hakim,” said the master. He smiled as he exchanged sword blows with the thing of clockwork trying to cut him to pieces. “Then get rid of the monster summoner trying to deal with the King.” Hakim reached under his long white coat and brought out a bottle as the whirlwind reached for him to drive him into the ground. Suddenly the Djinn was ten times as tall, and the bottle had grown to still fit his hand. One brassy hand brought the mouth of the bottle down on the whirlwind, trapping it. Then a cork went into the other end to keep it sealed tight. The servant placed the bottle back under his coat. The Djinn grabbed the mushroom like mass full of arrows and sword cuts. It tried to produce more of itself to fight as he picked it up in the air. He decided that just throwing it up high enough would be enough to get rid of it like his master commanded. The tower of blades decided that it needed to double its efforts before it was removed from the battlefield. If it could kill the Djinn’s master, that would be enough to remove the Djinn too. A wave of light punched the very core of its being. Then its copper body fell over and it was inside a stone in the magician’s hand. “We have to get back to work,” said the magician. He put the stone away in a carrying pouch. “At least the summoner wasn’t able to take advantage of our distraction.” It agreed. It was time to shut the gate for good. The archer sent an arrow through the breach. He didn’t have any magic to his name. He just wanted to save the world. The hand of the Destroyer grabbed the swordsman. The massive fingers closed and crushed the life out of the hero. The hunchback smiled as ash flew into the wind. That was one of his tormentors done. Now he had to kill the rest. An arc of lightning struck the dead man’s sword. It changed as the hunchback marshaled his own forces. The sword flew into the air, a thing of white bone and lightning. It never came back down. “We lost the King,” said the other fighter, the controller of the Djinn. “There’s nothing we can do about that now,” said the magician. “The rest of us might follow him in the next few seconds if we don’t get this door shut.” “This being is called the Destroyer for a reason, Master,” said the Djinn. “I’m sure it’s not because of its good looks,” said the fighter. Sand covered the summoner in a cloud. He closed his eyes as the desert became his weapon. All he had to do was inflict as much damage as he could to the other magicians and reduce them to the same condition as the one who died. Two of the magicians turned as he approached. He gathered more sand as he ran at them. He would be a giant crushing gnats by the time he arrived to deal with them. Then he could take the Jinn from the Easterner and use it as a weapon against those in the pillars. He liked the simplicity of it. Twin beams of spells struck his sandy shell. He exploded out of his protection. He hit the ground again. He murmured a summons to provide a distraction. There was no way for him to win against both of the magicians. They knew what he could do, but he didn’t have any clue how to counter their spells at the moment. He needed to escape so he could try some other scheme to gather power. He couldn’t afford to be exposed with no power to fall back on. He hated that he had to abandon his scheme when he was so close, but if he didn’t, he would be at their mercy. His distraction arrived in a fog drifting away from the scene. He threw a screen over it with a few murmured words. Let them stop that. It perceived that the little group was winning the struggle. The Summoner had been forced from the fight. The presence in the ring had reversed the call. All they had to do was hold on. The fog sweeping in with whatever was inside of it concerned it, but the door had to be shut first. “I think this is trouble, friends,” said the master of the Djinn. He swept his sword in a circle with the flick of his wrist as he adjusted his grip. “And I don’t see anything solid to fight.” “It’s a death cloud,” said the magician. “It has to be contained and dispersed in an area away from life. It looks like there is a protective shield to keep our magic from shredding it in place.” “Hakim, bottle this cloud the same as the air spirit, and take it away from any living thing,” said the Easterner. “I feel like that should handle things unless we need to do something more permanent.” “Yes, master,” said Hakim. He brought out his bottle and grew tall enough to face the cloud. He uncorked the bottle and forced the air and fog to flow inside with a minimum of problems. He corked the bottle and held it against the shaking in his hands. The next part was trickier. He needed a place where there was no life around to feed the death cloud. And he needed to get rid of the air elemental without allowing it to hurt anyone. Hakim left the Earth. He glanced around from the edge of the air. He couldn’t fly much further without hurting himself. Only the order from his master allowed him to go this far. He saw the perfect place for both of the problem spirits. And they would never be able to return to Earth across the void. He lined up the course he wanted, and placed the bottle on a sailboat pushed by the wind from the Sun. He pushed it out into space with a flick of his wrist. He watched as the sailboat cruised across the solar system, picking up speed as it went. It struck the edge of the planet that would one day be known as Jupiter and broke apart. Elemental and Death Cloud fell into the high winds of the planet. Hakim nodded. He had to return to his master and hope they had done enough to save the world from destruction. It nodded as it took in the Earth. The pressure was easing. It had accomplished its mission with the help of the mortals that had arrived on the scene and the guardian. It could go back to the spirit turbulence without a care. “The summoner got away,” said the magician. “I can’t see where he’s gone.” “He’ll be doing this same scheme again in the future,” said the Easterner. “Hopefully, he burned up a lot of his power so he’ll be easier to beat.” Two others joined the group. It nodded to the guardian. “An unexpected ally,” said the guardian, smoking his pipe. “Who would have thought? How do you feel, spirit of the air?” “The work is done,” said it. “I am returning to the aether.” Its body, magic and the parts it had forged into something that looked almost human, broke apart as the mortals and immortal watched. The spark of it vanished into the last surge of turbulence as the rivers of the Earth became placid again. “We lost the King, and our new friend has turned to dust,” said the man who would be known as Al-a-Din. “We’ll see the both of them again,” said the guardian, gesturing with his pipe. “One will be reborn to fight mortal troubles over and over, and the other will act to protect the Earth from other Destroyers.” “What makes you so sure about that, No One?,” said Cain. He floated in the air. Their ally was mysterious to a fault, so he might not answer. On the other hand, he knew things men were not meant to know and might answer just to give them a small glimpse of what they might have to fight in the future. “Because it was destiny and the will of the universe for this to happen,” said No One. He smiled at the expressions his words elicited. “Forces had to be brought to bear that we couldn’t do ourselves. And now that those forces are in motion, they can never not be in motion. Our friends will return to aid us again when we need it. Have no fear on that.” “It seems a bad trade,” said Al-a-Din. “I know,” said the guardian. “That’s why it’s up to mortals to choose whether to make that trade, or not. You are the ones that can change the world. A man with no name like me can only sit and watch while others do the real work.” He gave them one more smile as he turned and started across the desert. He vanished when a small dust devil obscured him from view. “I think he puts others on his work because he’s lazy,” said Cain. “I’m sure,” said the magician. “Until we meet again, friends.” The heroes went their separate ways.