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Post by Firebrand on Feb 17, 2018 17:30:23 GMT
Rated PG-13Chapter 1 Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17
Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21
Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25
Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37Chapter 1Someone screamed as the horde of vacant-eyed civilians advanced down Milton Boulevard. Several carried baseball bats or broken pipes, and they smashed the windows of any storefront they came across, grabbing anything shiny that they could carry. Those that were empty-handed simply pounded on the glass with their fists until the tide of bodies pressed them onward. Many had bloody hands from reaching through the shattered glass, though they seemed oblivious to the pain. Bringing up the rear of the column was a woman in a hooded sweatshirt with a group of Exeggutor, their leafy fronds glowing faintly in the flickering streetlights. She snapped her fingers at one man whose hands were laden with an assortment of diamond necklaces. The man fell back a few paces, and the woman took his spoils and put them in a large nylon bag she carried over her shoulder. A man stood on a rooftop some distance down the street, carefully keeping to the shadows. He turned to the pokemon crouching next to him. “Almost there. Just one more block.” He peered out and fiddled with a clasp near his armpit. “Okay, we got this. Yeah.” The Hawlucha next to him rolled its shoulders and stretched. The man held up his gloved hand and counted down from three. “Ready, go!” He and his Hawlucha sprinted from the shadows and leapt from the rooftop. The Hawlucha spread his wings to catch an updraft before diving over the mob of stumbling people and angling for the Exeggutor in the back. The man pulled a ripcord on his red and white nylon suit, making the green cloth sails between his arms and torso unfurl and catch the wind. His descent slowed sharply as he caught the same updraft as his partner, and together they shot towards the ground. Hawlucha struck first, crashing into two of the woman’s four Exeggutor before flapping back up into the air and angling his body to come around for a second pass. The man took advantage of the momentary chaos to drop out of the sky. He landed lightly on the balls of his feet and somersaulted to lessen the shock of impact on his joints. When he sprang up, he readjusted his lopsided mask and smirked at the stunned woman. “Whatever you’re doing to these people, you need to stop. I don’t want this to get ugly.” “Well, because you asked so nicely…” The woman unslung a coiled whip from her shoulder. “Honestly, has that ever worked?” “No, but I figure it’s always worth a shot.” The masked man unclipped two stainless steel rods from his belt and twirled them in his hands. “People like you always want to do things the hard way.” She snapped her whip at him, and the masked man dodged to the side. He stayed low to the ground as he ran at her, raising one of his batons to strike her wrist. The woman feinted out of the way and barked an order at one of her stunned Exeggutor. “Give me a hand here!” The grass type ambled forward and its fronds began to glow again, only for Hawlucha to drop out of the sky and attack it with a flurry of kicks and clawing talons. The Exeggutor stumbled back against a wall and toppled over as Hawlucha jumped back up to attack one of its fellows that was approaching the man from behind. “Thanks buddy,” the man said as he and the woman circled. “So what’s your gimmick, anyway? This seems a little too heavy handed for the average jewel heist.” “You trying to get me to drop my guard, pal?” “Let’s call it professional curiosity. You have an alias?” The woman lashed out with her whip and managed to catch the man’s arm. With a yank, she dragged him closer and pulled him to his knees. “You can call me the Soothsayer, if you’ve got to call me anything.” She kicked him in the stomach, making him drop his batons. “And you’re going to regret sticking your nose in my business.” She kicked one of the rods away and used her free hand to pick up the other one. “You ought to be honored,” the masked man said. “You can tell all of your new friends in the cellblock that your plot was thwarted by none other than the amazing Hawlucha Man!” “Never heard of you.” “You will. Now, buddy!” The Hawlucha shrieked and dove straight at the last standing Exeggutor, its body becoming cloaked in a brilliant white light. The flying type crashed into the squat body of the Exeggutor and lifted it off its feet, knocking it through the air and sending it flying towards the Soothsayer. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Hawlucha Man jerked his arm down and pulled the Soothsayer off balance. As she stumbled, the Exeggutor sailed by over her head and crashed down behind the mob some ways distant. Hawlucha Man jumped to his feet and delivered a punch to the side of the woman’s face, making her gasp and drop the whip. “You son of a bitch!” she screamed, rushing in with his baton. Hawlucha Man grabbed his remaining rod and brought it up just in time to block her telegraphed overhead strike. He delivered another punch to the Soothsayer’s abdomen, knocking the wind from her lungs. As she sucked in another breath, she cringed. “You want to call yourself a hero like Blaziken Man, but you’d beat up a girl?” “In my defense, you do kind of have it coming.” When the Soothsayer came at him again, he grabbed her wrist and contorted his body in such a way as to use the force of her own attack against her. He stopped just short of making the Soothsayer faceplant into the pavement, instead putting her in a headlock and applying pressure to her carotid artery. “Nice and easy now,” he muttered in her ear. “Just go to sleep.” The Soothsayer passed out, and Hawlucha Man set her down next to a lamp post before handcuffing her to it. Hawlucha landed next to him and cocked his head. Hawlucha Man reached down and scratched the feathers on his partner’s head. “All according to plan... uh, more or less.” Hawlucha huffed in what passed as laughter, and they waited for the police to arrive. It didn’t take long, though preventing the mob from continuing down Milton was taking most of the Eleventh Precinct’s resources and manpower. Simply taking out the Exeggutor behind the hypnosis had not been enough to dispel the mind control like Hawlucha Man had hoped. But that wasn’t really his department, and the police were better equipped to deal with it than him. Nothing to do now but wait. Hawlucha Man sat down on a stoop and began massaging a cramp from his leg, and had just about worked through it when a police cruiser turned off one of the narrower side streets and onto the main boulevard. He squinted his eyes against the flashing blue lights as the car pulled up to the curb in front of him. The driver and passenger side doors opened, and Hawlucha Man hauled himself to his feet. “Nice to see you, Captain. Detective.” Captain Anderson rolled his eyes as he opened the rear door of the cruiser to let his Houndoom out. Detective Reyes inclined his head towards Hawlucha Man. “Nice work. You cleaned this one up faster than I thought.” The Houndoom ambled over to Hawlucha Man, and he knelt down to scratch the police dog’s neck. “Hey Oscar. How’re you today? Are you being a good boy? Yes you are.” Oscar’s mouth lolled in a canine grin, and Hawlucha Man patted his head before turning to the detective. “Speedy service with a smile, that’s my motto. What’s got the captain’s feathers ruffled?” “He lost the betting pool.” “Betting pool? “He thought it would take you half an hour from contact to bring this one in. I bet fifteen minutes.” Reyes smiled wider. “So coffee and donuts are on the captain next week.” Hawlucha Man clapped the detective on his shoulder. “At least I know one person in the Eleventh has some faith in my awesome skills.” Anderson knelt down next to the Soothsayer and pulled back her hood. “Meg Kingsley, like we thought,” he muttered. “She in the system?” “Dropped out of a biochemistry master's degree program a few years ago,” Anderson replied. “We’ve brought her in for a few petty thefts and she made a plea bargain to get off easy. She informed on some of Wrath’s boys about some aerosol weapon they wanted her to make.” He went to remove her handcuff and chuckled. He undid the cuffs and held them up for Reyes to see. The detective laughed as Hawlucha Man turned a Tamato berry red beneath his hood. The captain jangled the fuzzy Liepard print cuffs and fought hard to keep a stoic façade. “You going to be wanting these back, Hawlucha Man?” “Hey, guys, listen, they’re not mine, I swear…” “No, of course they’re not,” Reyes said. “Look, there was a girl… and she was kind of into… all of that that. I had to make do with the resources at hand, alright?” Anderson put the still catatonic Soothsayer in the back of his cruiser and unhooked his own handcuffs from his belt. “Listen, kid, take these. You do good work for us. I’ll, uh, keep this one quiet for you.” He shook the fuzzy handcuffs. “Unless you really want to hang on to this pair?” Hawlucha snatched the police handcuffs. “Oh Arceus, no.” Anderson tossed them into a nearby garbage can. “Well, that never happened, as far as I’m concerned. Reyes, on the other hand, might have noticed a thing or two…” Hawlucha Man turned to the detective. “If you say anything you’re dead to me.” Before Reyes could reply, his phone chimed. The detective answered and asked a few brusque questions before hanging up. “Sir, we better let the CSU guys handle the rest of clean up here.” He showed Anderson a picture on his phone. “The Ronin dropped off a body for us.” Anderson scowled. “Who is it this time?” “Hard to say, he didn’t leave the head or the hands, so no dental and no fingerprints. But the body type matches that alleged rapist with a good lawyer from a couple months back. First responders found a good amount of blood, so we might be able to run some tests at the lab.” “The bastard may have gotten past the judge and the jury, but the executioner caught up with him,” Anderson muttered. “All right Reyes, see if you can get anything else while I finish up here.” Reyes nodded and walked a little ways down the street, talking into his phone. Anderson looked at the four fainted Exeggutor and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “I’ll get some guys from the PPS down here for the Exeggutor, I guess. We’ve got it from here, kid. Why don’t you take off?” “What about the people under mind control?” “Seems like Miss Kingsley here used some kind of spores to get people riled up and then hijacked them with her pokemon. With the psychic control gone, my boys are getting the people to calm down. We can handle it.” Anderson glanced at Hawlucha Man. “You know the Eleventh exists for a reason, right? You can leave some of our job for us to do. Blaziken Man didn’t get where he did overnight.” Hawlucha Man shrugged. “I gotta stay on my toes. Avenbrooke isn’t like midtown, captain. We’ve only got two heroes for all the things that go bump in the night.” “Calling the Ronin a hero may be a bit of a stretch, kid.” “At least he only goes after the bad guys.” “The Ronin went down a bad path. You’ve still got time to go another way.” Anderson put a paternal hand on Hawlucha Man’s shoulder. “And I’m really hoping you do, kid. I’m not telling you to get out of the game, because I know you wouldn’t listen. Just be careful, all right?” “It takes a lot to bring Hawlucha Man down.” “I’m sure.” Anderson sighed. “I have to go deal with this. You get on home, kid.” Hawlucha Man tapped two fingers to his forehead and gave a lazy salute. “See you the next time things start to bump in the night, captain.” “I can count on it, can’t I?” “You're damn right.” Anderson held the door to the backseat open for Oscar as Reyes came back up the street. He turned to the captain. “We’re pretty sure it’s our guy. When we brought him in, he had a tattoo on his left bicep. There’s a pretty bad acid burn right where the tattoo ought to be. We’re collecting some blood from the site for a DNA test, but it’ll probably match up. Still, we better put in an appearance. This one’s pretty ugly.” When the cruiser drove off, Hawlucha Man turned to his partner and clicked his tongue. Hawlucha, perched atop a stone Pyroar, looked up from his preening and cocked his head to the side. Hawlucha Man sighed. “You’ve been smoothing your feathers for ten minutes. I think you’re done. Let’s get out of here.” Hawlucha jumped down and followed Hawlucha Man down a dark side alley between two old brick apartment buildings. When they were sufficiently out of sight from the street, Hawlucha jumped up and grabbed a fire escape ladder, dragging it down with his body weight. The two of them quickly ran up to the tenement rooftop, sprinted to the edge of the building and jumped out across the gap between buildings. They traversed a block’s worth of rooftops this way until they reached a building sufficiently tall enough to glide from. As they prepared to take flight, Hawlucha Man held up a gloved hand and pointed out across the rooftops to the west where across the river, the skyscrapers of midtown Clarus City rose up against the night sky, their bright lights blotting out the stars. The sweeping towers and illuminated suspension cables of the Concord Bridge and, further down the dark scar of the Umber River, the brutalist bulwark of the Forbes Bridge connected the boroughs of Avenbrooke and Greenpoint respectively to the sprawling metropolis. Far on the other side of the city, the Crown Bridge spanned the West River to Ridgewood and Lenox Hills. Hawlucha Man rocked back on his heels and sighed. Laid out below his feet was Avenbrooke, his stomping grounds, his protectorate. His home. “I never get tired of looking at this, buddy. This is what we’re fighting for.” Hawlucha rolled his eyes. He had heard variations of this speech enough times. “We’re doing this to keep all those lights burning. There are a lot of people who want to put them out and do Arceus knows what in the shadows. But we’re not going to let them.” Hawlucha Man balanced on the edge of the roof, his arms spread wide. “You just watch!” he shouted towards the shining city. “Avenbrooke is under my protection, and I won’t stop until every last son of a bitch knows that if they want to make trouble in my town, they’re going to have to deal with the amazing Hawlucha Man!” He jumped out into the open air and pulled the cord on his wingsuit. Hawlucha sprang off the roof just behind him, and together they angled towards another building several streets away. After a series of short, looping flights, they came to rest on the roof of a small apartment building on a narrow street. Hawlucha Man removed his mask and hood and stuffed them in a small duffel bag near the rooftop access door. He shrugged on a battered leather jacket and stuck a pen behind his ear while he fished out a textbook and two notebooks. He turned to his partner and held out his fist. Hawlucha bumped it with his closed talons. “We did good tonight, Hierro,” Hawlucha Man said. “Our first supervillain. To many more!” His Hawlucha raised his fist in agreement. Hawlucha Man fumbled around in the duffel bag for his key and unlocked the rooftop door. He and Hierro quietly made their way down the stairs, and Hawlucha Man opened the door to a small apartment. Hierro sprang across the room to perch on the back of the only chair and immediately began to preen. “Alex, is that you?” someone asked from down the hall. “What are you doing out so late?” A woman on the far side of middle age poked her head out her door. Alex turned to her and grinned sheepishly, showing her the textbook in his hand. “Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Eliot. I was out on the roof finishing up some homework. The fresh air, you know?” “Just don’t go catching a cold,” Ms. Eliot chided. “And be careful! The TV was saying that there was a commotion over on Milton.” Alex raised his eyebrow. “Really? Nothing serious, I hope?” “Well, the police got it under control,” she said. “But honestly, the state the city is in nowadays. All those criminals, and the vigilantes are little better.” “I know, it's crazy. I should be getting to bed, Ms. Eliot.” “Oh, yes, don’t let me keep you.” When she closed her door, Alex let out a breath, grateful she hadn’t picked up on his white spandex pants. His landlady generally had his best intentions at heart, but she was terribly nosy. He locked his door, dropped his duffel bag and books and collapsed on the couch. Dimi, his Skitty, immediately pounced on his chest and Alex scratched him behind the ears. He had meant to wash out the dishes in the sink before falling asleep, but far be it from him to try to move Dimi once the feline had made up his mind to stay somewhere. Besides, he was too exhausted to get up again. Alex checked that the alarm on his phone was set before relaxing against the couch cushions and closing his eyes. If he didn’t get to sleep now, he would probably wind up dozing in one of his lectures tomorrow. Sometimes he envied the other people in his program who only had to worry about finishing their assignments on time and taking notes in lectures. The double life of a masked vigilante wasn’t an easy one, but the Ronin couldn’t clean up the streets of Avenbrooke on his own. Or at least, he couldn’t without leaving a rather grisly mess. And so, by day, Alex Alvarez was just another beleaguered engineering grad student, but by night he and Hierro became Hawlucha Man and his daring partner, sworn to keep the streets of Avenbrooke safe. “Good night, buddy,” Alex said. Hierro chirped back, and Alex sank into unconsciousness.
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Post by admin on Feb 19, 2018 21:41:52 GMT
You know, reading this after watching some of the more recent Marvel stuff kinda puts a smile on my face because, well, Hawlucha Man is absolutely, 100% the current Spiderman, sans superpowers. It's definitely in the smaller details: the awkwardness (and pure hilarity of using leopard-print handcuffs), the easy-going nature (in how he's very casual with the cops, as if they're long-time friends rather than professional associates a la Batman and Commissioner Gordon, or at odds with each other a la ... Batman and Commissioner Gordon in other universes), the banter he has with the criminals he fights, and those touches of down-to-earth brilliance (because you know that costume is handmade). But more than anything, it's in the ambition and idealism: that moment on the rooftop when he announces that the city's under his protection and the realization that this kid is an ordinary kid (or, okay, young adult) who just chooses to fight crime and be an emissary of justice for no other reason than because it's the right thing to do. And on the one hand, it's easy to be worried about him because this career choice of his could go south pretty quickly (a la Kick-Ass), but on the other chance, there's always the possibility that it doesn't, and Alex Alvarez will be relatively fine (a la Spiderman: Homecoming). 'Course, even then, the emphasis is on "relative" because all good superhero stories involve more supervillains nearly destroying the world/the city/the hero and everyone they love, but hey.
In any case, I've always loved this opening because it just fits. Not only is there that sympathetic main character and that streak of humor and down-to-earth, not-quite-dark-and-grittiness I'd mentioned above, but it's very quick to establish the important things we need to know about this story. This is a crime-ridden city full of people who use pokémon to do terrible things, but there are costumed vigilantes who use pokémon to take them down. Pretty simple, but it does it with a fight scene punctuated with just enough backstory to establish the whole "morality is a fragile thing" theme you've got going on (because Soothsayer did kinda help the cops before she decided to do the whole mind-control thing, never mind the fact that she was a perfectly ordinary biochem student before the supervillain gig).
And the battles? Nicely choreographed. I think the best thing about the one in this chapter is that it says so much about Hierro, with how graceful yet powerful his moves are, with things like dropping down from the sky to land a volley of kicks and punches or cloaking himself with white light to take down the last exeggutor. It's fun to imagine this bird soaring through the air before swooping down and laying on the hurt. But of course, the same could be said with Hawlucha Man himself, what with that whole "landing gracefully on the balls of his feet before somersaulting just to be extra in battle" part. (I know there was a point to that. It's still adorable.)
But yeah, Hierro remains one of my favorite characters in this, just because first off, he's adorable (this mighty beast of justice chirps), and second off, it's always interesting to see how you get his character across without relying on spoken dialogue. With just a roll of the eyes over Alex's speech and a bump of the claws, we know exactly what this bird is about ... and honestly, it's just adorable to see how loyal and on board Hierro is with his partner's shenanigans, even if it's clear he thinks Alex is a right dork.
In short, ngl, no matter how many times I read this, I still think it's a lot of fun. And I'm eager to, you know, actually keep up with it this time. 8)
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Dtmahanen
Witnessing (and participating in) shenanigans
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Post by Dtmahanen on Feb 20, 2018 22:17:31 GMT
~Hawlucha Man, Hawlucha Man, does whatever a Hawlucha can~
(Quite literally because Alex trains a Hawlucha AMIRIGHT)
AAAAANYWAY, I really like this first episode. And I'm gonna call these chapters "episodes" because goddammit, this is a Saturday morning cartoon in fanfic form. I mean, when you've got lines like:
All these lines give off the vibe of a fun, light-hearted cartoon that you'd see on the WCIU when that was still around. Of course, there are more mature moments, or, at least, moments geared towards "older audiences," like the liepard-print handcuffs and the Ronin literally killing a guy, but other than that, this is just the epitome of fun. I can't wait for more.
-Phalanx, out.
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Post by bay on Feb 21, 2018 4:53:05 GMT
I too love the mostly lightheartness of this opening chapter. I agree Hierro is cute and Alex seems like he'll be likable superhero. I do wonder how he'll balance school and fighting crime, but I take that'll be one of his struggles besides dealing with supervillians. Totally will try to keep up!
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Post by Firebrand on Mar 3, 2018 0:29:29 GMT
Chapter 2
Alex sat in the coffee shop near the university trying to focus on the notes he took two lectures ago, but it seemed that about halfway through he had stopped writing legibly, and now trying to decipher his earlier scribbles was like attempting to translate hieroglyphs from an ancient language. He looked up, trying to find something to distract him for a moment. The TV behind the counter had just changed over to an urgent news broadcast, showing helicopter footage of midtown Clarus City. The camera zoomed in, showing two armored figures exchanging blows on a rooftop. Alex signaled the barista. “Hey, can you turn that up?”
“… responded quickly to the threat,” the off-screen reporter was saying. “Damage so far is limited to the Industrial Trust building and first responders are already on the scene.” The helicopter camera rapidly panned away from the two armored combatants to show a Slaking bounding up a nearby building and then leaping over to the rooftop. The figure in red and gold armor turned away from his opponent and thrust his palm out towards the rapidly approaching ape. There was a flash as a blast of heat and light shot from the armored man’s palm, and the Slaking fell in a heap.
Taking advantage of the red and gold fighter’s distraction, the other armored man delivered a sharp uppercut, knocking the man in red and gold off his feet. The man in red armor fired off several more pulses from his hands, but his opponent shrugged them off. Alex and several other customers were all leaning forward in their seats, watching the fight unfold. The man in unadorned armor raised his fist to deliver the final blow, only to be tackled by a red blur. There was a flurry of quick strikes, buying the man in red armor time to stand up.
The Blaziken that had distracted his opponent jumped to the man’s side, and they stood back to back, facing down the Slaking and its armored trainer. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Alex crowed. “Blaziken Man’s going to turn this around!”
The two men charged at each other again while Blaziken engaged the Slaking. The news anchor’s voice broke in over the live footage. “We are receiving reports from Clarus City police that they believe Blaziken Man’s opponent to be notorious criminal Marcus Braun. Police have cordoned off the area to reduce interference in apprehending him.”
A murmur rippled through the coffee shop. “Sloth himself,” Alex whispered, watching Blaziken Man and the criminal kingpin of Clarus City trade blows. He tried to remember the last time Sloth had taken an active hand in his own operations, and figured it had to have been at least a year ago. Normally if he needed muscle, he would send Pride or Wrath’s crew, or if he needed something specifically, Envy or Greed. Whatever he had been after in the Industrial Trust building had to have been important.
Blaziken Man activated the repulsors on his armored legs, shooting up into the air to strafe the ground with shots from his gauntlets. Sloth nimbly jumped out of the way and waited as Blaziken Man descended before leaping at him. The two rolled across the rooftop, and Blaziken Man managed to kick his assailant off. Sloth’s Slaking grabbed him out of the air and hurled him at Blaziken Man’s partner. The fire type ducked down and came up with a punch that cracked the chest plate of Sloth’s armor. The Slaking bellowed and charged at Blaziken, only to be tripped and sent sprawling. Blaziken Man fired a pulse at Sloth’s chest, knocking the man down.
Blaziken Man stood over Sloth, his gauntlet glowing with another charged shot, obviously offering him a chance to surrender and come quietly. The two men regarded each other for a long moment, too far from the news helicopter for anyone to hear what they were saying. Outside the frame, a column of fire shot towards Blaziken Man, and the armored hero turned just in time to counter it with a blast from his gauntlet. He used his left hand to steady his shot, and in the momentary distraction, Sloth was back on his feet and delivered a punch to Blaziken Man’s beaked helmet, sending him staggering back. Blaziken tried to go to his partner’s aid only to become ensnared in the coils of a massive Seviper.
A woman with close-cropped dark hair and wearing black assault gear strode across the rooftop, a Pyroar on her heels. “We have confirmation that the woman we are seeing matches Braun’s associate Julia Richelieu,” the anchor said.
“Pride,” someone in the coffee shop hissed. “This isn’t looking good.”
The woman pointed, and her Pyroar pounced. Blaziken Man fired on it again, only to be tackled by Sloth’s Slaking. Sloth and Pride advanced as Blaziken Man tried to fight a battle on two fronts, but after his drawn-out battle with Sloth, it was clear he was starting to flag. The Slaking managed to get Blaziken Man into a lock as Sloth strode forward, his armored fist drawn back to strike. Before he could, the rooftop was bathed in intense white light. When the camera managed to refocus, Blaziken had been released and Pride’s Pyroar was down.
A young woman dressed in white and red stood before Pride, a metal quarterstaff inches from the bridge of Pride’s nose. With a quick turn, she brought the butt of the staff around and knocked Pride’s knees out from under her. Pride’s Seviper lunged at the newcomer, only to stopped with a blast of intensely hot air as a large white moth descended from the sky. The Volcarona kept up its Heat Wave, driving the snake back. The girl hurled another flashbang at Sloth, momentarily blinding him as the optics inside his helmet tried to adjust to the rapidly changing light.
“Yes!” a man two tables down from Alex shouted. “The cavalry’s here!”
“Volcarona Mask!” another woman cheered.
Blaziken Man and Volcarona Mask stood back to back as Sloth and Pride charged with their pokemon again. Volcarona kept Pride’s pokemon pinned with distance attacks as Blaziken sprinted to his partner’s side. Blaziken Man and his pokemon bumped fists just before the armored hero caught Sloth’s Slaking with a pulse in the center of its chest, sending the hulking normal type crashing to the ground again, its fur smoldering. Sloth himself targeted Volcarona Mask, whose costume afforded more mobility and flexibility but lacked the defensive plating of Blaziken Man’s suit. To her credit, the masked hero nimbly dodged all of Sloth’s strikes with a series of pirouettes, flips and acrobatic maneuvers. Using his broad, armored back as a springboard, she launched herself off of Sloth and towards Pride, delivering a kick to the middle of the woman’s abdomen as Blaziken Man unleashed a full-power blast in the weakened center of Sloth’s armor.
Sloth was sent flying backwards, his armor smoking. He bellowed something to Pride, and the woman tossed a small device at her feet. The capsule exploded into a billowing cloud of thick black smoke, obscuring the view of the rooftop. Volcarona swooped down low and used the beating of its wings to blow the fog away, but by the time it had, Pride and Sloth, along with their pokemon, had vanished. Volcarona Mask jumped to her feet and seemed to quip something to Blaziken Man before climbing onto her pokemon’s back and shooting off into the sky, obviously to track down their opponents.
Blaziken Man turned to the news helicopter and held up his hand before he and his Blaziken jumped from the rooftop to a neighboring building. The newscast cut back to the studio, where the anchor shuffled her papers. “We have received word from the CCPD that Blaziken Man and Volcarona Mask are in pursuit of Braun and Richelieu. Due to the attack on the Industrial Trust building, streets will be closed from Third Avenue and Sixty Second Street to Sixth Street and Sixty Fifth Street while the police conduct damage control. Citizens are advised to seek alternate routes.”
The crowd in the coffee shop began to disperse when it was clear that the action was over. Alex finished off his coffee and gathered his things so he could get to his next lecture. As he made his way back to campus, it seemed that everyone had seen the news broadcast, and the buzz of conversation was all about Blaziken Man and Volcarona Mask, and the reappearance of Marcus Braun.
Jiro Sasaki, known to most as Blaziken Man, had been the first of Clarus City’s heroes to start acting publicly to curtail the increasingly bold criminal underworld that had sprung up in the past few years. Sasaki was the president and CEO of Sasaki Industries, and had used his resources and engineering genius to design the Blaziken Man suit. After causing a large public stir with his first few appearances and his success in halting a massive riot started by some of Wrath’s anarchists, he went public and revealed that he was the armored figure that had been keeping watch over Clarus City.
After Sasaki, other heroes had started to follow his lead. Volcarona Mask and the Hammer joined Blaziken Man in protecting the city proper, while the Dryad had used her seemingly inexhaustible stable of grass types to maintain order in Lenox Hills across the river, to the point where any disreputable characters fled from anywhere she established an arboretum. The rumor went that Pride had a deep, abiding hatred of the Dryad for driving her out of one of her primary bases of operation.
Those four were the originals, the ones who got the news coverage, the public acclaim, and the right to call themselves heroes.
The newscasters seemed to go back and forth on whether the Cavalier and the Gunslinger in Ridgewood were heroes or dangerous vigilantes depending on how successful they had been in the preceding days and how much collateral damage their actions had caused, or at least failed to stop. But people like the Ronin, or the Phantom in Greenpoint, were never anything better than vigilantes at best, as far as the public was concerned. At worst, they were menaces to society that were little better than the criminals and lunatics they brought to justice.
It certainly didn’t help matters that out of all of the outer borough vigilantes, only Hawlucha Man had a consistently good relationship with his borough’s police force.
But just being a vigilante wasn’t enough for Alex. He wasn’t necessarily in the crime fighting business for the glory and prestige that the original four heroes got (though he would admit that the thought of it certainly sweetened the pot). He did it because even though Clarus City was growing into a shining beacon of progress and innovation, its growing light only made the shadows around it deeper and darker. Someone needed to put in the work to keep the city and its civilians safe, and the ability to work a little bit outside the structures of the law allowed Hawlucha Man and the other heroes and vigilantes to do some things the police force simply couldn’t.
Alex got to his next lecture and took his usual seat in the back of the lecture hall. After he had set up the 3D rendering software on his laptop, he pulled up the Clarus Herald and the major local TV news website, scanning the headlines for updates on Blaziken Man and Volcarona Mask’s pursuit of Sloth and Pride. While he waited for the lecturer to arrive, he saw a small block of text in the Avenbrooke section that talked about the mob on Milton Boulevard and how the terrorist using a potent biological weapon to incite chaos had been stopped by the combined efforts of the Eleventh and “local vigilante Hawlucha Man”. He allowed himself a small smile while the professor called for the class’s attention at the front. Alex minimized the news sites and turned to the lesson at hand.
Juggling the responsibilities of a student and superhero had proved a difficult task, but Alex had conditioned himself to sleep in short bursts and get by with the minimum number of hours possible. Making sure he could get all his work done on time was the biggest challenge, but he managed. Occasionally though, around especially pressing examinations, the Eleventh was left to patrol the streets of Avenbrooke alone. Though there had yet to be a night where the police couldn’t handle the things that went bump on their own, Alex still felt a little guilty.
After putting together his first wingsuit with cast off scraps he gathered in the engineering labs, he had begun using some of his downtime to make improvements on his costume, allowing the sails under his arms to catch greater lift or making a new belt out of a lighter polymer to reduce drag. On his budget, Alex couldn’t afford the kind of gear that the Cavalier or the Phantom had, let alone Echo, who relied on a high-end electric guitar and microphone as her crime fighting tools. When he allowed himself to indulge in fantasies, Alex dreamt that after graduating his program, he could work as an engineer at Sasaki Industries, with access to all the technology and resources that would entail, not to mention the generous starting salary the engineering and development department enjoyed.
But that was a long way off, and maybe by then, Hawlucha Man would have the same kind of respect and prestige some of the other heroes had, simply by virtue of his public service alone. That was unlikely, however, as most of the other heroes rose to prestige by facing down a powerful criminal element in a very public fight that was guaranteed to capture the public eye. But due to the underworld politics around Avenbrooke, all the Sins except Envy had learned to give it a wide berth, and the Kuromori Clan rarely had business on his side of the river. The Baron didn’t need to call on outside mercenaries for extra muscle when he had plenty on his own payroll. And the Baron’s methodology made a drawn-out public fight unlikely.
Alex sighed as he copied down the notation on the projector screen at the front of the room. He was just going to have to hope that the newspapers picked up a few more stories about his work, because he doubted his nemesis was going to give him his ticket to the spotlight.
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girl-like-substance
the seal will bite you if you give him half a chance
Posts: 527
Pronouns: xe/xem
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Post by girl-like-substance on Mar 3, 2018 19:41:27 GMT
You know, looking back at the beginning, there's been a very definite shift in Alex's character as he progresses in his crime-fighting journey, hasn't there? I've mentioned before that one of the most fascinating things about this world to me is that (a) anyone can be a superhero, if they have determination, free time and a pokémon and (b) that superheroes have this distinctive marketing-focused culture around them, where image is king and in order to feel they've really made it as a vigilante they not only have to be effective crime-fighters, but widely-recognised brands. And here, right at the beginning, one of the first things we hear from Alex is that the Soothsayer should spread the word about him among the supervillains, and that his name will at some point be one that people have heard of. He's really trying to get himself set up here, in a way that he doesn't have to work so hard at later on in the story, and his rise to glory, so to speak, is really interesting. I'm looking forward to retracing it and tracking the shift in his character more closely.
But back to my main point, which is – possibly because superheroes are sort of mythical figures, which means they're necessarily lone individuals surrounded by the aura of their fame, this story never considers that to be a bad thing. It's just one thing among all the others. Like, it could be a point of critique, but this story is perfectly happy to just have fun with it, the same way it has fun with everything else. Maybe that's not as unique as I think it is – I don't really know anything about superhero media and how it tends to structure itself – but it seems really cool to me, and it's something that comes across really strongly in these first two chapters, where first Alex is trying to build up his name and then Blaziken Man is shown on TV in a news segment that plays out more like an action movie.
So, uh, I guess basically I haven't said anything here that I haven't said before, but like I really like this fic, and I'm happy to have the chance to go through it again from the beginning. It's fun. So few things are just unashamedly, unabashedly fun, and it's so cool to see.
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Post by Firebrand on Mar 17, 2018 17:09:06 GMT
Chapter 3
Alex alighted on the rooftop of one of the warehouses at the end of the docks as the two black town cars pulled up in front of the building across the road. He motioned for Hierro to crouch down, and together they watched several people climb out. A man with muscles that strained the material of his expensive suit got out the passenger side door of the first car and walked to the back door, opening it for middle aged man, similarly dressed in a tailored suit and just the right amount of gray in his dark, close-cropped hair. The door on the other side swung open and a woman in a leather bomber jacket unfolded herself from the backseat. She slung a heavy metal baseball bat over her shoulder and indulged in a wide yawn. She sauntered over to the warehouse door and leaned against the doorframe before lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag.
Three men in slightly cheaper suits holding large black cases piled out of the second car and greeted the middle aged man coldly but courteously. The bodyguard gestured for them to step into the warehouse, but his boss paused for a moment to say something to the smoking woman before following them inside. The woman palmed a pokeball from her belt and tossed with a languid flick of her wrist. A massive Aggron appeared in a flash of light and growled. The woman shrugged again and gave the towering beast some kind of command. The Aggron lumbered to the other side of the door and hunkered down.
Alex swore under his breath as he adjusted his mask and checked his batons. He hadn’t counted on Gwendolyn Culain being here. The owner and sole employee of Aegis Security hired herself and her Aggron out to anyone willing to pay her exorbitant prices. When she had first arrived in Clarus City a few years ago, the various factions had not known what to make of her. The so-called Iron Maiden had no interest in pro bono hero work, nor did she seem to have any interest in carving out a niche in the underworld. A few members of the Clarus City elite had engaged her services as a private security detail when they felt that the city’s less desirable elements were targeting them.
Over time, Gwen had developed a reputation for cold professional ruthlessness, quickly and efficiently taking care of any duties her employer set her to. In time, Clarus City’s myriad criminal organizations had approached her to contract her services, and Gwen had taken their money and done what was asked of her. Alex had heard that she refused to do anything explicitly illegal, for liability reasons, but she had no problem standing outside a meeting between Lust and Sukiyama Kuromori to ensure that no one got in the way of a treaty between the two factions, or ensuring that no one interfered while Gluttony and her thugs roughed up a reluctant “business partner” or terrorized the leaders of trade union.
People who did interfere tended to get hurt, though she generally stopped short of permanently crippling or maiming. Generally.
But now, despite her reputation, she was in Hawlucha Man’s way. He had reason to believe that the Baron was brokering a deal for some seriously dangerous weaponry tonight, and he couldn’t in good conscience allow the kingpin of Avenbrooke to get that kind of firepower, terrifying security detail or not. He took a deep breath and stepped back so he could have a running start. He soared out over the edge of the warehouse, Hierro just behind him.
When Gwen saw the two shadows flit by over her head, she glanced up and swore under her breath. “Guess I have to earn that paycheck. Up and at ‘em, Maximus.”
Hawlucha Man dropped out of the sky and drew his batons. “Things will go a lot easier for you if you step out of the way.”
Gwen shouldered her bat. “Yeah, probably. But a contract’s a contract.” She pursed her lips. “Listen kid, you want to make this easier on all of us and just walk away? I really don’t give a damn.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“I figured. Your type always says crap like that. Hard way it is.” She hefted the baseball bat and closed the gap between them in an instant. Hawlucha Man barely managed to bring his batons up in time to parry the blow, and even then the shock of the impact reverberated up and down his arms. He tried to counter, but Gwen lazily swung her bat back around and knocked his strike out of the way. Hierro chose that moment to swoop down and attack. Gwen winced as the Hawlucha’s kick connected with her left shoulder, but she didn’t falter. “Hey blockhead,” she called over her shoulder. “Earn your keep, yeah?”
The Aggron lurched to his feet and lowered his spiked head before charging at Hawlucha Man. Alex managed to roll out of the way, and Hierro winged his way back up into the air. Alex whistled to his partner and pointed at the Aggron. Hierro dove again, this time battering the Aggron’s face. When the steel type tried to retaliate, Hierro soared back up and out of range.
Gwen and Hawlucha Man traded blows, warily circling around each other. “It’s nothing personal, kid,” Gwen remarked casually as she swung down with the bat. “I’ve got nothing against you, at least on principle. But business has been slow lately and Pirozzi has money to throw around. I've got bills to pay, you know.” She feinted, and when Hawlucha Man took the bait, she swung the bat across his ribs. Alex fell back with a gasp, clutching his side. Gwen looked a slightly impressed. “I didn’t hear a crack. That suit padded?”
“A bit,” Alex managed to say. “Reinforced material too.”
“Nice. But you’re going to have some nasty bruises if we keep this up. Last chance to back off.”
“I’ll take the risk.”
They traded another series of blows, and this time Alex managed to score a hit on the arm Hierro had injured in his first pass. Gwen grimaced muttered a curse. “Come on, Maximus, help me out a bit!”
Maximus turned from his futile struggle to hem in Hawlucha Man. Alex ducked beneath a swing of the Aggron’s heavy arms, knowing that he had nothing in his arsenal that could hope to scratch the steel type. Brute force was more Hierro’s department. He heard his Hawlucha shriek angrily over Maximus’s head, but that quickly turned into a cry of dismay as Maximus launched jagged stones from vents on his back. Alex ran out from beneath the Aggron and sprinted for the door.
Gwen’s bat connected with the back of his knee, knocking him to the ground. “You’re a persistent bastard, I’ll give you that.” She sighed. “But look, I’ve really got to wrap this up. I’ll just have Maximus knock you out for a bit and we’ll stash you somewhere Pirozzi won’t find you. No one has to know you were here tonight. You wake up, you go home, you pop some painkillers and we forget this ever happened, yeah?”
“Can’t do that.”
“Unfortunately, it ain’t an offer, kid. Just letting you know why your head’s going to hurt like a bitch for the next few days. Maximus!” The Aggron lumbered towards Alex, but before he got close, Hierro landed in front of his trainer and spread his wings as wide as he could, puffing out his feathers and lunging at Maximus. Instinct took over, and Maximus turned to swat at Hierro with his tail. Hierro’s foot connected with Maximus’s tail, and he turned to kick into a push, launching himself back at Alex and seizing his trainer before the two of them crashed through the warehouse doors.
Hawlucha Man stood up with a groan and ruffled Hierro’s feathers. “Nice move, buddy.” He twirled his batons and turned to face Gwen again, but the woman had lit another cigarette and was sitting on Maximus’s knee. She stretched out her legs, patted her pokemon’s flank, and winked.
“That’s all for us, big guy,” she said. Gwen waved at Hawlucha Man. “Pirozzi’s just paying me to keep everyone out. You got in. As far as I’m concerned, you’re out of my jurisdiction. Do whatever you think you gotta do.” Hawlucha Man couldn’t help smiling and touched two fingers to his forehead in salute. He and Hierro turned towards the dark floor of the warehouse, but Gwen stopped him by raising a hand. “Hey kid. I like the suit.”
Alex’s grin widened underneath his cowl as he and Hierro ran into the gloom of the warehouse. A small light flickered at the back of the cavernous space, the shadows occasionally shifting as someone moved in front of it. Alex and Hierro slid to a stop just outside the circle of light, though the sound of their footsteps against the concrete floor had long since alerted the Baron and his guests to their presence. The Baron himself sat behind a small, utilitarian desk with several papers spread across it. Two of the men in cheap suits stood off to one side in front of their bulky black cases. The third man sat across from the Baron, poised to sign one of the papers. The Baron’s hulking bodyguard stood just behind his employer’s shoulder, fingering a pokeball with one hand and the other palming his sidearm.
“Might as well give it up,” Alex called, making sure his voice was loud enough to echo throughout the warehouse and cover the sound of his and Hierro’s light footfalls. “I’ve got half of the Eleventh outside waiting to take you down.”
“Now we both know that isn’t true,” the Baron said, his voice low and smooth, carrying none of the coarser accents that Avenbrooke was notorious for. “Hiding in the shadows ill becomes you, Hawlucha Man.”
“You willing to call my bluff, Baron?”
“Even if you were telling the truth, there is nothing illegal about me brokering shipping contracts slightly outside of normal business hours.” Alex gritted his teeth. That was what had made the Baron so notoriously hard to pin down. By day, Carlo Pirozzi was the wealthiest and most influential shipping magnate in Clarus City, but in less reputable circles he was a notorious smuggler and arms dealer. The criminal empire he oversaw was intimately tied to his more legitimate operations, often using his legal shipments to smuggle in illicit materiel or drugs. Because his operations were so effectively hidden in his shipping company, it was difficult for law enforcement to pin anything on him, simply because it was so hard to prove he had actually done anything wrong. He was very careful to make sure that the racketeering, black market sales and occasional execution his subordinates carried out was very far removed from him, or at the very least ensured he had an ironclad alibi. The Baron smirked. “And I highly doubt that Ms. Culain would allow the boys of the Eleventh to surround her without finding some way to alert me of the situation. How she let you slip through, I can’t fathom.”
“I managed to get out of her jurisdiction.”
The Baron sighed. “Mr. Giordano, please remind me in the future to be more fastidious in my wording in Ms. Culain’s contracts.”
His bodyguard nodded. “Will do. You want me to take care of the kid, boss?”
“Please. I would like to conclude here quickly.”
Bruce Giordano tossed out the pokeball he had been toying with, and after the flash of light cleared, he placed a hand on his Blastoise’s shell, muttering instructions. Hawlucha Man snapped his fingers, the signal for Hierro to burst from hiding. The Hawlucha leapt at the Blastoise’s forehead, in between the sights of both of the jets on the water type’s back. Hierro delivered a sharp kick to the turtle’s hard skull, making Blastoise lumber back a pace. Giordano drew his pistol and fired off three rounds, but Hierro had already winged back to the cover of darkness, and the shots went wide. Hawlucha Man darted in on Giordano’s periphery and brought one of his batons down hard on the the bodyguard’s kneecap while he swung up with the other hand to crack Giordano’s elbow. Bruce hissed and inadvertently dropped his gun while Hierro distracted his Blastoise. The water type fired off several blasts of pressurized water, but Hawlucha Man’s agile partner proved too quick.
Hawlucha Man kicked away Giordano’s gun and boxed out the large man’s ears, momentarily stunning him. Blastoise changed tactics and fired a blast of icy air from its jets in a wide arc, striking Hierro’s left wing. The flying type crashed with a shriek, and Alex waved him back. “Get clear! I’ve got it from here.” Hierro shook his head. The Hawlucha struggled to his feet and charged at Blastoise. He swept his legs low and knocked the heavy water type off balance before somersaulting backwards and disappearing into the shadows before the water type could respond. Blastoise teetered for a second, but could not regain its center of gravity and fell backwards, struggling in vain to right itself.
Hawlucha Man twirled his batons and pointed one at the Baron. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but I know it’s probably in Avenbrooke’s best interests to stop it.”
The Baron sighed. “You have been a thorn in my side for quite a while, Hawlucha Man. I’d rather not do this, but you leave me no choice.” He reached into the inside pocket of his tailored suit and flicked out a pokeball. A towering Empoleon appeared and regarded Hawlucha Man with a dispassionate sneer. The Baron waved his hand. “Augustus, do what you must. Now, Mr. Nakamura, if you would be so kind to sign here and here.”
The Empoleon swung down with his sharp claws, and Alex only barely managed to throw up his baton in time. Augustus huffed out a breath and wrenched the baton from his hands, tossing it out into the dark with a clatter. Hawlucha Man tried to punch the water type, but its rigid feathers made it feel like he was striking a sheet of solid iron. The Empoleon swiped Hawlucha Man off his feet with a backhanded strike from one of its fins, and Alex struggled to rise as Augustus trudged over to finish him off.
A red and white blur tackled the Empoleon, causing the torrent of water Alex was about to be blasted with to go wide, making a crater in the concrete just two feet from his head. Hierro battered the Baron’s pokemon with his wings, having chipped off the ice in the shadows. Alex seized the opportunity to jump to his feet and sprint past the two battling pokemon. The man in the cheap suit sitting before the Baron flew up from his chair and ran to his associates. One of the other men had called out his Kadabra, and the three of them vanished in a flash of light, taking the large black cases with them.
The Baron slammed his fist down on his desk as Hawlucha Man ran up. “Well, I hope you’re happy,” he snapped, his calm and polished demeanor evaporating in an instant. “It took me months to put this meeting together, and now all that’s for nothing.” He rose from the table and recalled his Empoleon, making Hierro kick through empty air as the pokemon disappeared back into its pokeball. The Baron roused Giordano with the tip of his imported leather shoe, and the bodyguard rolled to his feet with a groan.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Hawlucha Man said.
“I have no business here anymore,” the Baron replied. “So I’m going home to get some sleep.” He waved his hand lazily at the contracts on his desk. “You can bring those to your friends at the Eleventh if you like. Without the last few signatures, they’re worthless to me. Of course, they aren’t going to find anything to tie them back to my business, but you might have enough to put that coward Nakamura in some hot water with Interpol.”
“Bastard deserves it,” Giordano grumbled.
The Baron scoffed, his coldly polite persona back in place. “Normally I frown on speaking ill of someone behind their back, but in this instance, I’ll allow it.” The two of them exited the warehouse, and Alex soon heard their car drive off into the night. It made no sense trying to pursue. There was nothing to charge the Baron with. Alex fetched his baton from where the Empoleon had tossed it, and he and Hierro limped back out into the night air. Gwen Culain had vanished as well, leaving the two of them alone in the shipping yard.
“Ugh.” Alex put a hand against his aching ribs and shook his head. “Have I mentioned that I really hate that guy?”
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Post by Huikyeong on Mar 21, 2018 1:06:57 GMT
I read this because hawlucha man and was interested. Its kinda like a superhero type story with Pokemon which I dig. hawlucha man seems pretty badass from the context. Awesome!
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girl-like-substance
the seal will bite you if you give him half a chance
Posts: 527
Pronouns: xe/xem
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Post by girl-like-substance on Mar 22, 2018 18:11:21 GMT
Oh man, we're up to Gwen already! I love Gwen; part of it is that I seem to remember her putting on her sunglasses before riding off on her motorbike at night, and I just have to respect anyone that dedicated to their performance (tangent: this presumably ties into this story's preoccupation with performance, but I guess I haven't thought about it enough to work out how) – but part of it too is that she's a really particular type of character. She's one of those honourable criminals who disguise their moral compass as being mercenary, who views her contracts with the same jaded eye as a captive demon, and that's just really appealing to me for some reason.
Which I think ties into a more general point about this fic: one of the things I love about it is that half the time it doesn't even feel like there are any minor characters. There are, of course, but when they appear onscreen (or page, I guess, or in this case maybe just a different kind of screen) they feel so vibrant and characterful that you immediately know that they're the protagonists of their own stories, which just so happen to currently be intersecting with that of Alex and Hierro. That a fair few of them get their own little spin-off side chapters helps, of course, but at heart it's because you have a knack for making very effective use of types, so that everyone we meet feels instantly distinctive and familiar. Gwen is That Kind Of Mercenary; Hawlucha Man is That Kind Of Superhero. Part of that is again to do with the fact that they're semi-consciously playing roles on the weird stage of costumed vigilantism, but part of it is just who they are. And these work really well, whether the character in question remains a minor character who is just that type or gets more time devoted to them and develops into something more.
Also, and apropos of nothing, I don't know if I've ever mentioned it before – I feel like it's something that I would have done, but I can't remember for sure – but empoleon is a perfect choice of pokémon for the Baron.
One little thing:
There's something missing here. Probably an “and”, I think, although of course you have options.
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Post by Firebrand on Mar 23, 2018 2:16:56 GMT
Which I think ties into a more general point about this fic: one of the things I love about it is that half the time it doesn't even feel like there are any minor characters. There are, of course, but when they appear onscreen (or page, I guess, or in this case maybe just a different kind of screen) they feel so vibrant and characterful that you immediately know that they're the protagonists of their own stories, which just so happen to currently be intersecting with that of Alex and Hierro. That a fair few of them get their own little spin-off side chapters helps, of course, but at heart it's because you have a knack for making very effective use of types, so that everyone we meet feels instantly distinctive and familiar. Gwen is That Kind Of Mercenary; Hawlucha Man is That Kind Of Superhero. Part of that is again to do with the fact that they're semi-consciously playing roles on the weird stage of costumed vigilantism, but part of it is just who they are. And these work really well, whether the character in question remains a minor character who is just that type or gets more time devoted to them and develops into something more. Just wanted to comment on this (emphasis mine) briefly because, yeah, that's exactly my intention, and I'm glad it's coming off well. I basically see every chapter of this fic as an individual issue of a comic book that exists within a universe of other comic books. Basically, the reader of this fic is following The Amazing Hawlucha Man, but running concurrently to those would be comic series of The Mighty Hammer, The Indomitable Blaziken Man, The Mysterious Phantom, etc., and maybe even a limited run of Gwen! The Iron Maiden!, with Hawlucha Man appearing as a minor character in all of those titles occasionally the same way that Marvel or DC will put an A-list hero in as a cameo to drive up sales of a B- or C-list hero (YMMV on whether Alex is an A-lister or C-lister in this example). This would also mean that when all the heroes come together it's a massive crossover event that we're just seeing from Hawlucha Man's perspective, though those chapters could conceivably be written from any of the characters' POV. I'm also going off the mindset that when there's a POV shift to a different hero, that's basically just the Hawlucha Man comic taking an off week, so the reader gets one of the other titles running in tandem instead. The upcoming Phantom POV chapter is less of "Hawlucha Man, featuring the Phantom!" and more like saying "Hawlucha Man is on a break this week, but to make up for it, here's Issue #8 of The Mysterious Phantom!", which is already a few issues into its run, and Hawlucha Man comes back the next week with Issue #6. This is all a little bit meta- and para-textual, and sorry if it feels like rambling or explaining something you already got, but it's one of the things I've had a lot of fun with in this fic. It's great playing with superhero/comic tropes within the story itself, but I've also found it really interesting to get into the mindset of a large comic book universe full of distinct and individual heroes having their own adventures in other issues happening concurrently. Anyway, thanks for all of your feedback, I absolutely appreciate it even if I don't always respond to reviews! |
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Dtmahanen
Witnessing (and participating in) shenanigans
Posts: 123
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Post by Dtmahanen on Mar 26, 2018 0:34:36 GMT
First of all, I really need to echo what Oyster said about all these characters feeling like fully fleshed-out characters in their own right. I mean, I'm not sure I can say it much better than she did, but what I can say is that it really feels like when Marvel is doing their comics right, and weaving their characters in and out of other stories in a way that feels natural and seamless. Basically, how the Ultimate Universe did things before things got super messy after Ultimatum. You've absolutely got that mindset on lock right now (honestly, even better than Marvel comics at the moment), and it's a real highlight of the story for me.
All I'm saying is, I expect a series of one-shot specials following the other characters, ASAP. Get on this, Parker! I want headlines!
Anyway, looking at the chapters in more detail, I really like how Chapter 2 focuses more on Alex out of the suit. At first, when he whispered about Marcus's codename, I sorta thought that it was more of a vigilante/villain name-trick that so many superhero properties do nowadays, but then to hear another rando mention another villain codename basically reaffirmed that this is a superhero universe for me, which is always rather nice. (Also, the Four Originals? Very nice FF reference, I don't know if anyone else caught that. I'm happy I did.)
I definitely like how Blaziken Man is basically Iron Man but sort of nice, at least from what I gathered in Chapter 2. I can see why he would inspire others to start becoming vigilantes themselves, sort of like how Hooded Justice did in Watchmen. As for Alex, I feel like his motivations are somewhat generic and shonen-esque at the moment, but that totally works for him, as his in-battle personality and snark absolutely give him a life of his own outside of his motivations. Also, as a struggling student myself, I absolutely sympathize with his workload. And honestly, the biggest reason why I like him right now is the fact that he wants to maintain a good relationship with the police. I don't think I've ever seen a superhero in fiction go out of their way to do that, and especially a vigilante, but to be frank, I'd probably do the same if I were writing a superhero story, so I'm a huge fan of that detail.
As for Chapter 3, I really like the villains you've introduced. I like how Gwen is a very "letter-of-the-law" henchwoman, in a similar vein to Elektra, only a little more sassy and arrogant than cold and ruthless. Her banter is excellent, and I'd love to see more of her, especially since I can see her morality being pretty gray, depending on who's paying her. As for the Baron, well, he's basically the Kingpin, and that's pretty great. (Also, guy using batons vs burly mob boss? Total Daredevil/Kingpin reference. I freaking love it.)
Anyway, don't have that much more to say. I'm absolutely loving this, and I can't wait to read more in the future.
-Phalanx, out.
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Post by FifthQuin on Mar 26, 2018 23:47:38 GMT
The names of the superheros, beyond those of [POKEMON] Man, and their respective partner Pokemon, and how it plays into their personalities are surprisingly one of my favorite parts about this. The seven sins for one organization and the collection of heroes against them-- Volcarona Mask is a great take of the [POKEMON] Man scheme by the way; and the simple name of 'the Dryad' is a good mixup with how unrelated, yet descriptive it is for a Pokemon universe.
But its the way The Baron just has no care for Hawlucha Man and is doing a business deal just out of frame of the fight, and his quick recomposure afterwards, just makes him shine as the sort of villain I want to see toppled.
I always am a hard sell for superhero stories, comes from not really ever getting into the comics, but I'm enjoying this one for the sheer spectacle.
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Post by Firebrand on Mar 30, 2018 16:30:40 GMT
Chapter 4
Alex ran the flannel shirt through his fingers, scowling as he felt the material. It was a nice shirt, good quality, and would probably last him a few years. But he wasn’t sure if he was willing to pay out almost double what he normally paid for his clothes. After a moment of reflection, he sighed and put the shirt back. It wasn’t worth it.
Blaziken Man probably never had to look at price tags.
He poked around the clearance section of the department store for a few minutes longer but found nothing that really caught his eye. Alex gave up and left, heading back out into the shopping district towards the next stop. He needed some new clothes, but it was hard to find things in his price range. Before he had become Hawlucha Man, money had been tight enough, but now that most of his extra cash went to tweaks and improvements on the suit, he had even less money to spread around. He turned the corner onto the main boulevard just in time to see four black SUVs careen after an armored truck. The truck skidded to a halt in front of First Clarus Bank, screeching up onto the curb. Guards spilled out from the bank doors to form a perimeter around the truck.
The SUVs slowed down as they cruised closer, and the doors all flung open at once. From each vehicle, three men dropped and rolled across the pavement as the SUVs quickly reversed and drove off. The twelve men all wore black facemasks and advanced on the bank guards. The guards drew their tasers, but before they could use them, a man in black and white motley stepped from the crowd and stood in front of the robbers. The charged wires from the tasers shot out and struck the air in front of him, colliding with the invisible wall the mime conjured there.
Alex swore under his breath. “This was supposed to be my day off!”
He ducked into a nearby coffee shop and ran into the bathroom, digging the Hawlucha Man costume from his backpack as soon as the door swung shut behind him. Alex could faintly hear the employee behind the counter shouting that the bathrooms were for paying customers only, but he paid it no mind. He quickly zipped himself into the wingsuit and called out Hierro from his pokeball. “No rest for the weary, partner. We’ve got a heist to stop.”
The two of them charged out of the bathroom and into the now considerably more crowded coffee shop. People from the streets had fled to the shelter of the nearby stores to get out of the crossfire of the bank robbers and the recently arrived police. As Alex shoved his way through the press to the door, a man grabbed his arm. “What are you doing, kid?”
“My job.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I’m Hawlucha Man. And I’m going to put an end to this.”
“Why not just leave it to the cops?”
“Blaziken Man wouldn’t stand on the sidelines, and I’m not going to either.” Alex shook free of the man’s grasp and stepped out into the street. The police had arrived and had surrounded the armored transport. Several Koffing drifted above the transport, and an Ursaring stood warily by the bank’s doors. One of the police cars was a mangled wreck after having a civilian car thrown at its hood. The police had their guns drawn and stood behind riot shields, but no one made a move. The man dressed in black and white motley stood in front of the armored truck, and the air before him seemed to ripple and shimmer.
When Alex ran up, the captain turned and shook his head. “Oh no. I’m not dealing with any costumed freaks today. I got enough on my plate.”
Alex glowered at him. “If Blaziken Man dropped out of the sky right now, would you tell him to piss off?”
“Kid, you sure as hell aren’t Blaziken Man.”
“Maybe not, but Hawlucha Man is all you’ve got right now. Radio Captain Anderson at the Eleventh, all right? He’ll attest to my record. I’m here to help.”
“I don’t have time to play dress up. It’s bad enough Greed and her boys took hostages, but I’ve got that motormouth over there to deal with too. Hasn’t anyone ever told him mimes aren’t supposed to talk?”
“I know. I’ve dealt with him before. For Arceus’s sake, radio Captain Anderson.”
The captain scowled but had one of his men comply. The man came back a moment later and nodded. “Hawlucha Man checks out. Might be best to let him help, captain.”
The captain folded his arms. “All right. You say you know how to handle the esper. Take care of the psychic freak and let us handle the hostages. Just make sure he doesn’t drop anything on us.”
“Walls are all he can do,” Hawlucha Man said as he stepped through the police line. He approached the man in black and white. “Pierre? Pierre, it’s me. I need to know what you’re doing here. You’re supposed to be in St. Ambrosius’s.”
The man’s face lit up. “Hawlucha Man! Ms. Petrovna and her friends got me out! And look, they found Mimsy too!” He pointed at the other side of the truck where a Mr. Mime wove together a similar shining barrier to the one in front of Pierre.
“I see that. Pierre, can you drop the wall?”
The mime shook his head. “I’m not supposed to. Ms. Petrovna said.”
“I just want to talk with you. You can put it up again as soon as I come through. You know I don’t like talking to you this way.”
Pierre sighed and waved his hands, and the air in front of him returned to normal. Alex took three paces forward and the wall reappeared behind him. Alex took a deep breath. “Listen, Pierre. These people are not your friends. They’re just using you to get what they want.”
The smile disappeared from the mime’s face. “I know.”
Alex nearly took a step back. He hadn’t expected that. In the past, Pierre had gleefully gone along with any of the Sins when they reached out to him, thinking that they would be his friends and if he helped them. It had been a simple matter of convincing him that the Sins were only using him for his powers to get him to stand down and come quietly. Now he would need a different approach.
“If you know they’re using you, why are you doing this?”
“Even if they aren’t my friends, they helped me. They got Mimsy back. If I don’t help them, I have to go back to the hospital.”
“The hospital is only trying to help you.”
“They took Mimsy away from me!”
“It wasn’t safe for you to be around Mimsy.” Alex spread his hands, showing that he meant no harm. “But maybe things can be different this time. If you agree to come with me and go back to St. Ambrosius, I’ll see if I can get them to let Mimsy stay with you. Arceus as my witness, I’ll do everything I can.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. Cross my heart. But you’ve got to bring the wall down and let the police in, or they won’t listen to me. Okay?” Alex signaled to the police to lower their weapons and prepare to move in.
Before Pierre could respond, a black shape passed overhead. “Have no fear, citizens!” someone boomed. “Captain Unova is here!”
“You've got to be kidding,” Alex muttered. “It just had to be this guy.”
A man dressed in blue and white dropped out of the sky just inside of Pierre’s invisible wall. As he did so, a Braviary swooped down to claw at Mimsy. Pierre whirled on Hawlucha Man. “You tricked me! I thought you were my friend, but you tricked me!” He threw up another wall, knocking Alex back. Mimsy fired a psychic pulse at the Braviary, making it climb back up into the sky. The commotion drew the attention of the robbers in the bank, and a rattle of gunfire came from two of the windows. The police fired back, and Alex ducked for cover behind the armored truck.
Captain Unova turned the corner of the transport and tapped two fingers to his helmet. “Didn’t see you there, friend. What say the two of us handle this together? I’m sure we can wrap it up in no time!”
“You absolute moron,” Alex snapped. “I had everything under control. Pierre was about to stand down. And then you show up and ruin everything!”
Beneath his helmet, Captain Unova cocked an eyebrow. “Well then, I suppose we’ll just have to improvise a bit.” He glanced around the side of the transport. “You flank left, and I’ll go right. Our partners can come in high, and that should be enough to distract the clown. I’ll have my Braviary take down the Ursaring. Then I’ll storm the bank doors.”
Alex gritted his teeth. Captain Unova’s plan made a fair amount of sense, but he didn’t have to like it. It was just his luck that out of all the heroes in Clarus City, he had to team up with this guy. Of course, forcing his way into already-escalated situations was the only way Captain Unova ever teamed up with other heroes. “All right,” Alex finally said. “But leave the Ursaring to my partner. Braviary would be better off rounding up those Koffing.” He jerked his chin at an Ariados scuttling across a web slung between two of the ornamental columns on the bank’s façade. “And I don’t like the look of that spider. Best to take that out before it becomes a problem.”
“If you say so. On my mark.” Captain Unova held up his hand, counted down from three, and nodded. He and Alex darted out from behind the transport and tore off in two separate directions. Alex stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled to Hierro. When he had his partner’s attention, he gestured towards the large Ursaring before launching himself off a pile of debris and spreading the wings of his suit. Pierre had not managed to get a secondary barrier up before Alex slammed into his chest feet-first, knocking the mime to the ground.
When Pierre had struggled halfway to his feet, Alex shook his head. “I’m really sorry about this.” He grabbed the mime in a lock and spun him around. He applied pressure to Pierre’s neck and felt him go limp as the esper slipped into unconsciousness. Before he blacked out, Pierre managed to gasp out, “Don’t let them take Mimsy. You promised.”
Alex lowered Pierre’s body, and almost immediately the invisible barrier the mime had conjured flickered and vanished. Hawlucha Man turned and waved the police force forward. The riot squad moved in to surround Greed’s men guarding the outside of the bank.
Hierro clashed with Ursaring, claws and talons flashing as the two struggled to gain the upper hand. Captain Unova’s Braviary screamed as it flew circles around the Koffing, finally selecting a target and using its talons to knock the poison type into the Ariados’s web, knocking the spider to the ground. The police force’s pack of Growlithe soon had the insect surrounded, keeping it pinned down. Captain Unova wove through the chaos with his signature kickboxing moves. When one of Greed’s grunts charged at him with a baseball bat, the man casually dodged to the right, brought his knee up into the man’s chest and then caught him with an uppercut, knocking him flat.
For all that Captain Unova got on his nerves, Alex had to admit he knew how to get the job done.
As he ran to back up Hierro, the doors blew off the bank. Alex ducked behind an overturned car as the heavy metal slabs flew across the street and crashed into the storefronts on the opposite side. Smoke billowed from the gaping hole in the wall, and slowly several figures resolved themselves from the murk.
“What did I say, Yevgeny?” a booming, accented voice said. “Wrath may be a crazy bastard, but his explosives are top of the line. In that, at least, I trust him as far as I can throw him!” Alex peeked over the top of the car and saw a giant of a woman with half of her hair shorn off, and the bare part of her scalp heavily tattooed.
Anya Petrovna, known to many as Greed, flexed one heavily muscled bicep. From what Alex had heard, trusting someone as far as she could throw them was high praise from Greed, especially if the rumor she had once hurled Sloth out of a wrestling ring was to be believed. Greed looked at the riot squad dispassionately snapped her fingers. “Blow them away, yeah?” Her men raised their guns, but before they could fire, a brilliant flash of light filled the air. There was a great rush of wind, and when the light cleared, a woman cloaked in bright orange and white stood atop the armored truck, a large Volcarona hovering behind her on iridescent wings.
“All right!” she shouted. “Amateur hour is over!” She extended a telescoping metal staff and spun it over her head. “Volcarona Mask is here to kick! Your! Ass!”
Greed snapped her fingers at her Ursaring. “Oy, Stepa, on your feet. We’ve got a real fight now.” She raised her gun and laughed. “Bring it on, bitch! I will swat you like the tiny insect you are!”
Volcarona Mask leapt from the top of the truck as her pokemon partner began to superheat the air. Greed’s men fired into the crowd, and Alex was forced to run for cover. His suit was reinforced to prevent blunt trauma from crippling him, but there was no way it could stop a machine gun salvo. He was way out of his depth here. Pierre was neutralized, and now that Volcarona Mask had shown up, it was clear that the situation had escalated beyond what an upstart from Avenbrooke could handle.
Though if he was honest with himself, the police in riot gear should have been his first clue that he was going to be punching above his weight class.
Bullets pinged against the overturned car Alex was hiding behind, and he tried to make himself as small as possible. He cursed under his breath. Alex told himself that Blaziken Man didn’t cower when the situation got too hot. Then again, Blaziken Man didn’t have to worry about trivial things like bullets. Alex waited for the shooting to move away from him and peered around the car.
Volcarona Mask pirouetted through the chaos, hurling flashbangs and sonic grenades to stun her foes before moving in to dispatch them with her metal quarterstaff, all the while working her way to Greed. Her Volcarona spiraled through the air above, deftly dodging bullets and launching streams of fire at the bank robbers below. The police had rallied around Volcarona Mask, providing cover and support. Captain Unova traded blows with one of Greed’s lieutenants, shouting encouragement to his allies while the police shouted back at him to stay out of the way.
Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw a slim figure slinking out from behind one of the bank columns, carrying a large metal briefcase. The figure moved from cover to cover, obviously not keen to get caught up in the firefight.
Alex tracked the woman (he was pretty sure it was a woman) as she ran and decided that he was better suited to bringing her in than facing down Greed’s guns. He whistled to Hierro and sprinted off after the woman in black. Once he and his partner were clear of the firefight, he hung back just enough to make it difficult for the woman to see him tailing her. He chased her down several blind alleyways, and was surprised at how little noise her footfalls made. After several minutes of running, he heard a clang and the noise of feet on a fire escape. He and Hierro immediately found a fire escape of their own and ascended to the roof.
The woman in black vaulted across the low rooftops of the lofts outside the shopping district, and Hawlucha Man glided after her, soaring from rooftop to rooftop with his wingsuit. He could no longer hide his pursuit, and when the woman spotted him, she dropped back down into the maze of back alleys and blind corners between the buildings. Alex cursed under his breath and followed after her.
Her footfalls were not nearly so silent now, and he tracked her with ease. “Leave me alone!” she shouted over her shoulder. “Take a hint, why don’t you? No one likes a man who doesn’t know when to quit!”
“What were you doing at the bank?” Alex shouted back. “What’s in the case?”
“None of your damn business!” He heard her muttering increasingly frantic curses as she turned down a blind corner. “Oh damn it!” Alex turned and found the woman in black standing in a dead end with sheer walls on three sides. She whirled on him and took a deep breath. “I don’t like getting my hands dirty like this, but you’ve left me no other choice.”
Alex held up his hands. “Easy now. If you come quietly, maybe you can work out some kind of deal. Give us information on your friends back there and maybe the police can help you out.”
“Turn on the Sins? Yeah right. I’ll take my chances with you.”
A purple blur darted out of the shadows on Alex’s right and instinct kicked in. He lashed out with a chop and knocked the Purrloin out of the air as Hierro pounced, pinning the feline beneath one talon. Alex unclipped his batons from his belt and spun them. He glanced down at the Purrloin and then back at the woman, who now seemed a little less enthusiastic about the prospect of a fight. “Not a bad trick, but it’s a pretty basic one.” He sighed. “Look, I just want a few answers. What’s in the case? What were you doing at the bank?”
The woman backed up against the wall and took a shaky breath. “I don’t know much. I’m just a freelancer, okay? Like the mime guy.”
“A freelance criminal?”
“You’re a freelance superhero, buddy. You don’t get to give me that look.” She tossed her head back. “Besides, I’m a damn good freelance criminal. There’s no vault in the world the Shadow can’t crack.”
“The Shadow? Never heard of you.”
“Well yeah, you wouldn’t. That’s kind of the point.” At Alex’s look, the woman sighed again. “Listen, all I know is Greed wanted me to open a vault. Straightforward job, good payoff, whatever. I’ve cracked First Clarus before, it’s a piece of cake. I was thinking I’d just go in solo, take what she wanted, skim my cut off the top and call it a day. But no, Greed wants to make it a whole damn thing, because apparently it’s bring the whole fucking family to work day. So that goes all tits up, and here we are.”
“And in the case?”
“My cut.” The Shadow shrugged. “Listen buddy, you know how banks work? This money is insured, all right? The rich assholes I’m taking it from are going to get it all back. Closest damn thing I can think of to a victimless crime. Hey, I’ll tell you what.” She slowly knelt down next to the case and popped the clasps. She reached in and held up a large stack of bills. “This right here is yours if you want it. All you gotta do is step aside and have your bird give me back my cat.”
Alex wasn’t sure exactly how much money the Shadow was offering him, but it seemed like a lot. Definitely enough to cover his expenses for several months. Several months of decent food and actually turning on the heat. Blaziken Man never had to make a call like this.
“Sorry. Can’t let you do that,” Alex said. It was times like this that he hated having to be one of the good guys.
“Well aren’t you a fucking paragon of virtue,” the Shadow muttered before snapping the case shut again. “Guess we’re doing this the hard way, huh?” She balled her fists and darted forward.
“Lady, you’re going to regret the day you crossed the amazing Hawlucha Man.”
“Hawlucha Man? Never heard of you.”
Hierro danced nimbly back from the Shadow as she approached, keeping the Purrloin pinned in his claw. Alex moved in to attack, but the Shadow jumped out of his reach. She tried to strike, but Alex dodged her punches. She might have been as skilled a cat burglar as she claimed, but she hadn’t trained to fight like Alex and Hierro had. Alex prepared to bring the fight to a swift conclusion when he was overcome with a sudden chill.
“About damn time you showed up,” the Shadow snapped.
Alex felt an icy hand on his shoulder and heard something breathing in his ear. Something wet tracked up the side of his face, and Alex quickly felt himself becoming numb. He fell to his knees and collapsed on the ground, and Hierro shrieked at his unseen assailant. A cloud of purple mist resolved itself next to the flying type, and the Shadow’s Haunter licked the Hawlucha too. Hierro’s grip on the Purrloin slackened as he collapsed, and the Purrloin scampered back to its trainer.
The Shadow collected her case and stepped over Alex’s prone form. “Well, that was fun. See you around… Hawlucha Man.” She laughed and strode off into the lengthening evening shadows with her pokemon.
Alex and Hierro were left to lie in the alley until their paralysis wore off. When Alex was once again able to move his lips, he managed to growl just one sentence.
“Blaziken Man doesn’t have to put up with this shit.”
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Post by FifthQuin on Apr 3, 2018 2:31:41 GMT
Hawlucha Man's interactions with Pierre reminded me of one of my favorite moments of The Flash from the Justice League cartoon. Shows the true heart behind the mask, shame that CAPTAIN UNOVA AND HIS FREEDOM POSSE had to crash the party. Though seriously, the 'Amateur hour' comment by Mask really kinda made me realize that Alex is not the only amateur superhero around, a thought that hadn't occurred to me yet. On the flipside, the idea of amateur supervillians is an even more interesting concept. The first steps towards becoming a Superhero is kinda straight forward--punch the bad guys, it's almost the same in a non-Poke world; but becoming a supervillian? With Pokemon in the mix that's an infinitely intriguing (and terrifying) concept. |
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girl-like-substance
the seal will bite you if you give him half a chance
Posts: 527
Pronouns: xe/xem
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Post by girl-like-substance on Apr 3, 2018 10:52:34 GMT
You know, I never really noticed it before, but the bit with Alex running into the coffee shop sort of reveals his face to anyone who can put two and two together. I guess maybe since nobody's heard of him that doesn't matter too much at this point, but he should probably figure out a better way of doing this once he gets a bit more famous.
Which is actually a nice bit of set-up for the main thrust of the chapter: all of the costumed vigilantes are amateurs, technically, but most of them have a lot more support than Alex does – better tech, better weaponry, giant piles of money. Last chapter, he tackled a crime that was right on the edge of what he could stop – and while he did stop the deal going through, he wasn't able to shut the Baron down. Now he's involved in something that's absolutely beyond his capabilities, and his lack of support and experience is really starting to show. There's a limit to how amazing the amazing Hawlucha Man can be when he's just one college kid fighting crime in his free time. Anyone can be a vigilante in this world, with a pokémon partner and a sewing machine to run up an outfit on – but not everyone can make the big leagues, not without the proper resources. Given that Alex is kind of the guy who eventually binds the heroes of Clarus together into a family (literally everybody wants a bird furry son, it seems), he'll get those resources in the end, and it's interesting to be rereading his journey towards that point knowing what's coming. The shape and structure of the fic is much more evident on a second reading, which isn't a big thing, really, but it's something I always take pleasure in.
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Dtmahanen
Witnessing (and participating in) shenanigans
Posts: 123
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Post by Dtmahanen on Apr 3, 2018 14:01:58 GMT
First off, to keep going on FifthQuin's reference to the JL cartoon, that was always one of my favorite interactions between hero and villain in all of fiction, and I'm so glad to see something like that in here. The interaction between the Flash and Trickster in that episode is what really made him one of my favorite characters in the show, showing that he didn't think of villains as cardboard cutout baddies to beat up on, but rather people that may be in a bad situation, or just need help. Alex's interactions with Pierre evoke the same sort of mindset, and it really speaks to the kind of person he is that Pierre actually lets his guard down for a moment.
Compare this to UNOVA MAN!!!! (All caps because I think that's what he'd want.) That dude, though clearly very competent at his job, is just the epitome of an opportunistic narcissist from this little slice of stink that we see of him. I get the feeling that you chose the name Captain Unova to evoke Captain America, but there's a part of me that knows that, were any incarnation of Steve Rogers (save the Ultimate Universe version of him) to meet this guy, they'd hate him immediately. He's a glory-seeker, consequences be damned, and it shows, seeing how he actively ruined Alex's attempts to calm Pierre down. Going back to the scene with the Flash and Trickster that FifthQuin and I mentioned, he's basically Orion and Batman in the scene if Flash wasn't there to intervene: actively making things worse by escalating the situation worse.
Also, I'd like to mention the big names that you keep dropping in the story, specifically Blaziken Man and Volcarona Mask. We haven't seen Blaziken Man, yet, but Alex clearly has a bit of an idolization thing going on with him, to the point where it actually evokes shades of Deku and All Might from My Hero Academia (if you follow the manga/anime, you'll know exactly what I mean). I can't help but wonder what would happen were Alex to actually meet the guy. I'd think it would be a fascinating experience. As for Volcarona Mask, I wonder what she actually thinks about smaller heroes such as Hawlucha Man. Does she acknowledge them, at the very least? Does she look down on them, or at the very least think they're alright in the grand scheme of things? I'd love to see interactions between the Original Four and Alex, if that's ever in the cards.
Not much else to say, the fight with The Shadow was interesting, but the hero-on-hero interaction was what I took away most from this chapter. I'm looking forward to more!
-Phalanx, out.
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Post by bay on Apr 11, 2018 5:47:09 GMT
Okay, time for a bit of catch up!
I too like how Chapter 2 gives a bit of look how Alex and others excited the other heroes and how Alex is inspired to be one himself (and connected to his studies atm). It was nice to see a glimpse of the other heroes and villians in action there too. Him wanting a good relationship with the police is something I look see forward to see more of when he gets a chance to intearct with them more.
Chapter 3, both Gwen and the Baron are fun there. One part during Gwen and Alex's fight had me chuckle, where Alex mentions his suit being reinforce material. Alex's like, "yeah suit's padded" then Gwen goes, "Cool but I'll still beat you up" (but still likes the suit in the end). =P Alex and Baron's battle was cool too, though Alex going head on an Empoleon isn't a good idea haha. Looks look the two will cross paths monce more.
Chapter 4, first off I feel bad for Alex budget woes there, and him being almost conflicted with the Shadow's offer near the end of the chapter there shows that. And yeah, eldestoyster metnioned about the other heroes having resources there. I too like Alex wanting to calm Pierre down, only for freaking Captain Unova to mess that up oops. I agree with Phlanx the difference between Captain Unova and Alex shows.
The few comic references I get are pretty cool, but what I like more is the subtle details you have Alex's idolization of the other heroes and him struggling to balance between real life obligations and fighting crime. Been enjoying this a lot, looking forward to more!
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Post by Firebrand on Apr 14, 2018 19:07:27 GMT
Chapter 5The diamond cufflinks were a silly indulgence, he knew. He would have been far better off with a more practical button-sleeve, but he had always believed that appearances counted for far more than people gave credit to. He reached up and fixed the white mask that obscured his eyes and nose before tapping his gilded cane against the ground twice. The humming noise behind him grew in intensity as the looming shape of his partner bled out of the shadows and took on solid form. The villains in Greenpoint knew to flee to their wretched dens when the Phantom walked the streets. The young man brushed a speck of nonexistent dust from his silk jacket and leaned casually on his cane as his partner analyzed various radio signals. With a deep bass hum, he alerted the Phantom that he had found something. “Well then, lead on.” His partner’s broad hands clamped down on the Phantom’s shoulders, and he felt himself drawn into his partner’s pliant body. It was followed by the lurching sensation and acute vertigo that always accompanied their travel in this manner, and fortunately it was over as abruptly as it began. When his partner released him, the Phantom found himself in a dark, dead-end alley with an alarm ringing some ways distant. He stepped out onto the main street and found himself a block from the Clarus Geological Society. “Envy’s stooges, I’ll wager,” he muttered. “How predictable.” He gestured for his partner to hang back and strode up the baroque façade of the Geological Society and leaned against one of the Doric columns. He withdrew a watch from the pocket of his waistcoat and nodded. “If they’re after what I think they’re after, and the alarm started then…” A window above him exploded outward in a cascade of glass, and several forms rappelled down. The Phantom snapped his watch closed. “Right on schedule.” He stepped out from the shadows of the pillar and inclined his head to the burglars. “Lovely night for a stroll, gentlemen.” The three would-be robbers whirled on him, and the leader’s Sneasel and Sabeleye prepared to pounce. “Who the hell are you?” the second bandit snapped. His Hypno raised its pendulum and the third robber’s Ariados clicked its mandibles together. “I am the man who is about to make things rather unpleasant for you if you don’t return the Harcourt Diamond to me immediately.” “How did you know that we—?” the third robber asked before being cut off by the first one with an impatient wave of his hand. “Doesn’t matter how he knows. Just get rid of him!” He clicked his tongue, and his two dark types charged. The Phantom twirled his cane and swatted the Sneasel out of the air. With his free hand, he snapped his fingers, and a glowing purple orb struck the Sabeleye, knocking the unfortunate creature flat. His partner’s humming filled the air as the Dusknoir loomed up behind the Phantom. The second robber drew his pistol. “We still have numbers on this guy. C-Come on!” “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” the Phantom quipped. He tapped his cane against the ground, and ghostly flames appeared in the air around the burglars. The pinpricks of light quickly resolved themselves into a Chandelure and two Lampent, even as the shadows the three ghost types cast began to writhe. A cloud of Ghastly and Haunter surged out of the darkness, quickly surrounding the three terrified men. The Ariados attempted to scurry away only to be singed by a gout of flame from one of the Lampent. “Y-You’re crazy!” the third robber said. “You’ll find I’m quite stable. Methodical, even,” the Phantom said as he strode through the cloud of ghosts. “Though you’ll have to forgive me for indulging a bit in theatrics. It’s just that the diamond I am reasonably certain you have stolen has a certain personal significance to me, and I would like to see it returned to its rightful place.” The second robber fished something out of his pocket and tossed it to the Phantom. “If you want it so bad, then have it. Arceus man, just let us go. We were only following the boss’s orders. We never wanted to hurt anybody!” The Phantom caught the bag out of the air and weighed it in his palm. “I wish I could believe you, but the fact remains that you are guilty of breaking and entering the Geological Society, and I cannot let you escape without punish—” The Phantom was cut off by an explosion several streets away. “Well gentlemen, it seems this is your lucky night. However, I can’t allow ruffians like you to menace Greenpoint without consequences, so…” He clapped his hands and most of his ghosts dispersed, vanishing back into the shadows they had sprung from. “Cornelius, Erasmus, ensure these ruffians stay put, and Brahms, see to it that the gentlemen of the Eighth are informed of their new wards.” A solitary Ghastly shot off into the night while two Haunter descended on the terrified robbers and quickly immobilized them. When they had been dealt with, the Phantom turned on his heel to face his Dusknoir. The opera cape he wore flared out around his legs in a way he thought was suitably impressive and dramatic. “Now then Gregor, shall we?” The Dusknoir enveloped him again, and when the Phantom emerged from the disorienting darkness, he found himself several streets over. Someone crowed with raucous laughter and gunned a motorcycle engine. A group of young men on motor bikes tore around a corner, whooping and shouting. They carried bottles filled with oil and topped with burning rags. They hurled the fiery cocktails indiscriminately through windows, reveling in the chaos they created. “Wrath,” the Phantom spat. Of all of Clarus City’s Sins, Wrath was the one he detested most. The anarchist and his gang sowed strife everywhere they went, and Sloth made no effort to rein them in until their antics threatened his own interests. As far as the Phantom was concerned, Wrath was nothing more than a rabid animal with a long leash, and rabid animals needed to be put down. This time, Wrath’s minions had targeted the old City Hall, blowing out the southwestern wing of the stately, centuries-old building. The Phantom had no idea what their aim was, if they even had one, but a desecration of an illustrious symbol of Greenpoint’s past couldn’t go unpunished. Even with his army of ghosts, he didn’t fancy his odds against a band of bloodthirsty anarchists, but someone had to slow them down until the police could catch up to them. The Phantom spread his arms wide and beckoned to the shadows. “Chase them down.” Clouds of his ghost types poured from the darkness and took the air, shrieking and howling as they tore off after the motorcycles. “Titus,” the Phantom said. “To me.” A truly massive Haunter swooped down and wrapped one of the Phantom’s arms in each ghostly claw before rising back up into the air again. As he was buoyed aloft by Titus, the Phantom saw Gregor blur back into the shadows below. Titus soared above the wide boulevard, his breath icy on the back of the Phantom’s neck. Gregor’s shadow transportation was undoubtedly useful, but when giving pursuit, it was better to fly, especially when the quarry was driving as erratically as Wrath's grunts. When Titus caught up to his ghostly brethren, the Phantom allowed himself a brief smirk of satisfaction at the sheer panic his ghosts had instilled. The fleeing anarchists were firing madly at the ghost types, but their bullets mostly passed through their gaseous bodies. Those that had more solid corporeal forms knew well enough to hold back. Titus put on a burst of speed to get out ahead of the motorcycles and lightly deposited the Phantom on the street in front of them. Gregor was instantly at his side, broadcasting his spectral hum. When the lead motorcyclist showed no signs of slowing down as he approached, Gregor fired a shadowy orb from the palm of his left hand. It struck the front wheel of the bike and launched the driver through the air. The rest of his ghosts descended on the cyclists in a screaming mass, knocking them from their bikes. When the ghost army rose back up into the air, the Phantom swept forward. “I see you’re not laughing anymore. Good. I assume I have your attention?” One of the anarchists stalked towards him, flicking open a switchblade. “I’m going to gut you, nice and slow. Punks like you ought to know better than to mess with Wrath!” The Phantom sidestepped the first clearly telegraphed blow. “Am I speaking to the man himself?” “The one and only!” He angrily hurled a pokeball at his feet, and a red and black form burst from the capsule. The Incineroar pounced at the Phantom, only to receive Gregor’s fist in its gut. The Phantom quickly drew the concealed blade from his cane and spun to meet Wrath’s next attack. The anarchist’s hair was in wild disarray, and his faded jacket was more patches than leather. It was, in the Phantom’s studied opinion, an entirely tacky and clichéd look. His ghosts kept Wrath’s minions pinned down even as they too summoned their pokemon allies. Gregor and the Incineroar battled back and forth, seemingly in a stalemate. Both Wrath and his pokemon shared an erratic, hard-to-predict fighting style that kept Gregor and the Phantom on the defensive, but it was rough, unschooled and lent itself to over-commitment, making it easy to take advantage of. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” the Phantom snarled as he and Wrath traded blows. “I’m going to put you down, once and for all.” Wrath scoffed as he parried the Phantom’s strike and drove a knee into the young man’s chest. “You know how many times I’ve heard that tune? Anyone who stands up to Wrath gets beaten down.” “I’m not just anyone.” The Phantom feinted and managed to drive the point of his blade into Wrath’s gut, drawing a gout of blood. He grinned and pressed his assault even as Wrath howled in pain and rage. “I’ll make you pay for that, you little punk! No one stands up to Wrath!” The Phantom struck again, this time drawing a scratch along Wrath’s cheek. “When you only pick on those weaker than you, it has a way of inflating your own self-importance. And now, all your debts are coming due.” Though Wrath was unquestionably the stronger of the two, the Phantom’s cane-sword had a far longer reach, and he was pressing his advantage. “I’m going to make you pay in blood for everything you’ve taken from Clarus City. For everything you’ve taken from me!” “Bold talk,” Wrath hissed. “But can you back it up, kid?” The Phantom drove his blade into the meat of Wrath’s thigh, making the anarchist stagger. “All that and more, you pathetic bottom feeder.” He flicked the blood from his blade and engaged again. The Phantom caught Wrath’s knife on the hilt of his blade and held him there, their faces mere inches from each other. “For five years, I’ve been waiting for a shot at you. Five years ago, you took my parents from me.” Wrath managed to contort his grimace of pain into a smirk. “I’ve killed a lot of parents. You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” The Phantom let his fury boil over, and he rained a series of blows on Wrath, driving the man back. Wrath stumbled over a loose paving stone, and the Phantom saw his opportunity to knock the knife from the anarchist’s hand. It clattered away across the ground, and the Phantom forced Wrath to his knees. He raised his blade, knowing exactly what he had to do. The Phantom, like almost every other hero in Clarus City, adhered to a strict, unspoken code that they were not to kill their adversaries, no matter how heinous the crime. They were always to bring them to justice, and allow the legal system to do its work. Occasionally, the Gunslinger or the Hammer or even Blaziken Man would go too far, but those deaths was always explicitly accidental. As far as the Phantom knew, only the Ronin openly flaunted the code, and the Ronin could barely be called a hero anyway. But now that he had Wrath before him, utterly within his power, he understood why the Ronin did what he did. Some men would only find justice in death, and if he was chosen by fate to become the instrument that delivered it, then so be it. After everything Wrath had done, the sentence was clear. The Phantom would be judge, jury, and executioner. No one would mourn Wrath anyway. Just as he was about to bring the blade down on Wrath’s throat, a triumphant howl split the air, shattering the Phantom’s concentration. The Incineroar managed to land a solid hit on Gregor, making the Dusknoir’s usual hum change into a protracted moan. At that moment, Wrath snarled a nearly unintelligible curse and drew a pistol from beneath his jacket. At this range, there would be no way for the Phantom to avoid a direct hit. Before Wrath could pull the trigger, the Phantom heard a high-pitched shriek, and then Wrath was sprawled on the ground several feet away, seemingly hit by an invisible force. Another shriek, and the Incineroar was likewise sent tumbling head-over-tail. The Phantom’s eyes widened as he realized what had happened, and an instant later Gregor had blurred and reappeared at his trainer’s side, his humming growing louder in preparation of what was about to happen next. The Phantom’s ghostly legion scattered as a loud reverberating chord shook every window up and down the street. The anarchists clapped their hands over their ears as the auditory assault continued. The chords were loud enough to almost have a physical force, keeping Wrath and his band of terrorists pinned down beneath a wall of pure sound. The Phantom wasn’t sure entirely how, but the frequency Gregor broadcasted at seemed to give him some kind of immunity, which certainly made collaboration with the other Greenpoint hero a great deal easier. He wasn’t sure where Echo and her pokemon allies were exactly, but they had to be very close by to have this kind of effect. He owed her one. Another one. The anarchists writhed as Echo continued to play from her concealed location, and soon the Phantom saw the flashing red and blue lights of police sirens. The overpowering sound died out when the officers arrived, and Gregor subsided to his usual quiet hum. The police quickly apprehended the prone anarchists and began dragging them to their feet and into the waiting transport. Captain Ito of the Sixth Precinct nodded to the Phantom when she arrived. “I picked up the guys you left my boys at the Geological Society,” she grumbled. “You’re like my wife’s Glameow, you know. Always leaving little ‘presents’ on the doorstep.” “Just doing my part,” the Phantom replied. Though he was still shaken from his bout with Wrath, he was doing his best not to show it. A hero was always composed, not a hair out of place. He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and drew out the small black bag he had taken from the robbers. He tipped the contents into his palm and held it up to the light. The fist-sized, multifaceted blue diamond glittered in the street lights. He held it out to Captain Ito. “They were after the Harcourt Diamond. In all the confusion, I didn’t have a chance to put it back. Could you return it for me?” Ito took it and held it up to the light. “Nice rock.” “A little too gaudy for my taste.” The captain glanced down at his tuxedo and quirked an eyebrow up. “Right. The last thing you’d want to be is gaudy, huh?” She put the diamond in an evidence bag and handed it off. “You seen Echo yet?” “Afraid not, but I owe her my thanks. Had she not shown up when she did, things might have ended unpleasantly.” “Right,” Ito said again. Moments later, a young woman in a black bodysuit trudged through the crowd of police officers, a red electric guitar slung over her shoulder. An Exploud and a Loudred bounded along beside her, and when he looked up, the Phantom could just make out her Noivern swooping and diving against the night sky. When she saw Captain Ito and the Phantom, she straightened, tapped her heels together and gave a brisk salute. The police captain smiled a bit at that, and inclined her head to Echo. “Damn fine work.” She turned to the Phantom. “Both of you. But we’ll take it from here.” Echo simply nodded, and after a hesitation he hoped was imperceptible, the Phantom did too. Better that the decision was out of his hands. He and Echo stood off to one side as the police loaded the anarchists into an armored transport. After standing in silence for just long enough for it to be uncomfortable, the Phantom turned to her. “Thank you. You saved me again.” Echo jumped, clearly startled out of some kind of reverie. “Oh,” she replied. “Uh, n-no worries. I-It’s wh-what we do. H-Heroes and wh-whatever.” “I suppose you’re right. Still, I won’t forget this. I’ll find a way to make it up to you someday.” No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t understand Echo. Any time they had found a brief moment to exchange words after a conflict, she had responded only in short, clipped sentences. Shyness was one thing, but it seemed entirely paradoxical that someone who’s method of fighting relied entirely on sound, and occasionally her own voice, to be utterly taciturn. Echo used the natural amplification abilities of her Loudred and Exploud to boost the resonance of her guitar and voice to make criminals yield, holding them in place until the police could arrive. It had proven effective, but there was no way to prevent collateral damage to bystanders. Still, she was good at what she did, and the Phantom had worked together with her on several previous occasions. They weren’t formally partners, and didn’t coordinate their efforts, they just happened to wind up at the same crime scenes. Greenpoint wasn’t such a large borough, really. Just as the police were about to load Wrath into the transport, there was a loud whoosh, and the Phantom found himself robbed of the ability to see. Judging from the high-pitched tone of alarm Gregor was broadcasting, he was not the only one. An impenetrable field of darkness had descended over the street, and the policemen were shouting to each other, trying to reorganize. The Phantom heard Echo unsling the guitar from her back and strum a few experimental chords, though without the amplification of her Exploud partner. The darkness was so absolute, the Phantom could not even see the faint spectral light of his ghostly legion not twenty feet away. As quickly as it descended, the darkness disappeared, leaving everyone disoriented and blinking in the glare of the streetlights. A moment later, there was an alarmed shout, and the police all went for their radios. The Phantom swept over to Captain Ito. “What’s going on? What just happened?” The captain shook her head. “Wrath is gone. Someone sprung him.” “S-Sounds like Lust,” Echo said. “He’s s-s-slipped past me w-with Night Shade before.” “Him and that damned Xatu,” Ito growled. “Well, safe to say that the Sins came to collect their own, but they left the rest of his thugs behind. We’ll see if we can get some kind of confession out of them. You kids hit the showers, we’ll take it from here.” “Are you sure?” the Phantom said. “He can’t have gone far, even if he was teleported away. We could canvass the city and—” “Kid, you do good work. But leave this to us. Head home for the night.” The Phantom wanted to protest, but he felt Gregor’s hand on his shoulder, cold and heavy. This was a battle he wasn’t going to win. As much as he hated that Wrath had gotten away, a small part of him felt a glow of satisfaction. It meant the bastard was still out there somewhere, and he would have a chance to take him down again. The Phantom gave Captain Ito and Echo each a curt nod. “Until next time, then.” After he dismissed his ghost types for their nightly prowl, Gregor drew him into his body, and the Phantom once again was overcome with acute vertigo as they traveled back through the shadows. They emerged in a dark, tastefully decorated room, the curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows billowing from the slight breeze of their entrance. The Phantom shrugged off his cape and hung it on a carved mahogany coatrack before sinking into an antique leather armchair with a groan. Now that the adrenaline was seeping away, he was starting to become aware of just how sore he was. Wrath had done a number on him. He felt something warm near his face, and he waved his hand in the air before his eyes. His Chandelure drifted up higher, suffusing his father’s study (even after all these years, he still wasn’t comfortable thinking of it as his own) with an ethereal glow. He reached over to side table and picked up a crystal decanter of brandy and a highball glass. He poured himself a generous drink and savored the liquor as it traveled down his throat. Gregor’s eye dimmed as the Dusknoir went into a dormant state that passed for sleep. Through the windows, the Phantom could see his ghost types starting to return to the manor grounds, small shadows flitting through the moonlight and passing between the trees. He placed his glass down on the table beside him and ran a fingertip through the layer of dust that had accumulated there. Perhaps it was time he hired back the servants. The mansion had been empty for years now, except for the ghosts. He took off his mask and sighed. To bring back the servants would mean explaining his comings and goings, and that was something he was loath to do. He had enjoyed his free reign up to this point, but at least to the outside world, the end of his mourning period was long overdue. He was sure people were beginning to talk. The Harcourt mansion had once been famous for its opulent galas, the place for anyone who was anyone in Clarus City to be seen. But since the night his parents died, the mansion had been dark and silent. Edgar Harcourt had not been able to face the public, simpering with concern for his loss. Instead, he had withdrawn from public life, and as far as anyone knew, he had not left the manor grounds for years. Well, at the very least, he had not left the manor as Edgar Harcourt. Edgar poured himself another brandy, drinking more slowly this time. Something about this latest attack didn’t seem right to him. The Sins had been acting erratically lately, striking in broad daylight, hitting targets with no clear value to them. There was a pattern, he was sure, he just could not for the life of him figure out what. Arceus knew he had tried, going so far as to set up a corkboard with little bits of red string connecting things, like a conspiracy nut. But even that had not made the picture any clearer. It did him no good to dwell on it now, especially since he wanted nothing more than to drink himself into a comfortable stupor. It was a problem for daylight hours, but nonetheless, it was a problem he was determined to solve. He needed to stay one step ahead of the Sins if he was going to bring them down and have his revenge. <svg class="SnapLinksHighlighter" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"> <rect width="0" height="0"></rect> <!-- Used for easily cloning the properly namespaced rect --> </svg>
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Post by bay on Apr 14, 2018 22:44:59 GMT
Oh cool we're introduced to Phantom and Echo now! I think it's obivious Phantom is inspired in part with Batman's backstory, but I still like his ghost aesthic there and his interactions with Echo and Captain Ito. And speaking of those two, neat you have Echo be like opposite of what her superhero theme is suppose to be, and I really like the little detail you drop that Ito has a wife there. Makes me curious if Phantom and Hawlucha Man will cross paths and how their interactions will go.
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Dtmahanen
Witnessing (and participating in) shenanigans
Posts: 123
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Post by Dtmahanen on Apr 14, 2018 23:06:00 GMT
NEW HEROES! Oh, I love it, and I love these newcomers. The Phantom is so ostentatious and flashy, but it's totally not as bad as Unova Man, as he actually seems to want to accomplish his mission. He just wants to be stylish while he does it, and who better to emulate than the Phantom of the goddamn Opera? The ghost-types with the name of composers are a nice touch as well, and the dusknoir sucking the Phantom into his body to transport him to different locations is a suprisingly accurate emulation of the other Phantom's seemingly uncanny ability to be anywhere in the theater, as if he was a ghost himself. Very nice touch. There isn't as much to say about Echo, but her having a stutter is a very interesting touch, a sort of ironic twist to her character that makes me wonder how she got it. Is it just a speech impediment that she needs to work through, or was it caused by her constant exposure to sound; perhaps it's a symptom of tinnitus or something of the like? I dunno, it's intriguing.
It's also nice to see that other heroes have a somewhat working relationship with the police, even though they're not exactly as cordial as Alex is with Anderson. The relationship between Phantom, Echo, and Ito is slightly rockier, and I really do like the detail about Phantom leaving criminals on the police's doorstep like a present, which totally reminded me of Ultimate Spider-Man's relationship with Jeanne DeWolf. It's definitely not antagonistic (although it could easily turn so if the knifing goes too far), and I can't wait to see the complete opposite side, as in heroes who cannot work with the police or outright despise them, and vice versa.
Not much else to say, really enjoyed this chapter, and can't wait for the next.
-Phalanx, out.
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