Where Heroes Fear to Tread: Part 1
After playing an awesome game of Necessary Evil at ConCarolinas, I decided to fictionalize the adventure from my character’s perspective. Here is the first part of that story.
***
The drop point was approaching. These were the moments Jonathan craved, moments before the fall.
Next to him, The Titan hummed quietly to himself, oblivious to what was about to happen. Jon felt a sympathy for this oafish colossus, a beast of a man with the mind of a child.
He looked around the cabin as it rocked and shook in the winter storm outside.
On his other side sat Anton Murool, known by the authorities as Doctor Diablo, master of both fire and medicine, and a raging pyromaniac.
Across the cabin sat The Marksman, a man without an alias, his hands bound together in iron gauntlets to as to keep him from accessing anything he might use as a weapon.
Next to him, Leopard, also known as Tim Shepherd, a young man who could walk as fast as a car could drive, and who could perform all manner of feats of speed and dexterity.
Goldenhand, a mafia thug given amazing combat abilities by the gold glove now fused to his hand, sat next to Tim.
And that left Jonathan.
Growing up in New York City, Jonathan Crane realized his abilities at an early age. Able to read others’ minds and influence them to do things he desired, he became a professional magician and mentalist, touring up and down the East Coast.
Soon, he realized that there was ludicrous money to be made in simply walking into banks and taking the money out by merely asking for it. With his powers, it was a piece of cake. But the authorities quickly caught on.
Soon, there was an all-out manhunt for The Sphinx, Mentalist Extraordinaire. Using offshore bank accounts, he purchased a manor in Switzerland. But before he could make a break for it, he was caught by none other than The Patriot.
They didn’t know what to do with all these criminal masterminds, shuffling them from prison to prison. That’s when the War broke out.
That was how he found himself here, on a plane with five other “villains”, on a plane for who-knows-where to do who-knows-what.
He had already been on a few. They promised him that if he were to help the Allies defeat the Axis and their growing population of super powered men, they would be granted freedom at war’s end.
The General stood. That was all they knew him by; The General. He never said his name, never needed to. He smoked a thick Cuban cigar, his temples grey. His dark green uniform looked black in the red lights of the cabin.
“Gentlemen,” the man said, holding the cigar in the corner of his mouth, “your mission this evening is of utmost importance.” He took a drag from his Cuban. “We are currently in a holding pattern over the Austrian Alps. Below, there’s a small village. From there, you’ll need to get across a not-insubstantial chasm to Castle Wulfreich. We believe the Germans have captured one our generals, Brigadier General Raymond Wilkes. We fear the information in his head may get leaked to the Krauts. If it does, then God help us all.” The General paused.
“I don’t think I need to tell you how important it is that you keep that information from ending up in the hands of the Germans. Try to bring him back alive.”
The cargo plane shuddered under the pounding storm, and the back doors opened.
“Good luck, gentlemen.”
The Sphinx stood, surveying the others with him, villains who he would now rely on to keep him alive. He walked to the back door. The General grabbed his arm.
“Give ‘em hell, kid,” the General said. Jon shrugged off the General’s hand.
Then he stepped into oblivion…
