Mutants & Masterminds: The Indigo Children - [Prologue] Robert

Telluris · July 7, 2010

The silence of the darkened room was the quiet of sleep punctuated with deep, even breathing. Lights from traffic outside occasionally played around the chinks in the curtains and, now and then, a distant siren struggled to invade the sanctity of the Queens apartment. A clock on the nightstand read 02:59. New York might never sleep, but right now in this room a single cell of that mighty organism was slumbering.

The clock flicked over to 03:00, and the blare of an alarm was punctuated with a groan and a muffled curse. From under the tangle of duvet and pillows an arm stretched forth, fumbling for the off switch to no avail. Someone had left the damned timepiece just out of reach so that an easy return to the arms of Morpheus would not be so easy as reaching blindly and pressing a button.

"Damn it." The speaker was more resigned than angered, the tone one of surrender to the inevitable. He sat up, dark hair tousled and eyes bleary, and looked at the still-squawking alarm. His eyes sharpened and focused momentarily... and the alarm switched off.

Rob sat for awhile in the restful gloom before swinging his legs out of bed and getting dressed. Grey NYU t-shirt and sweatpants, black sneakers, and a well-worn leather coat was the outfit for the evening. He brushed his teeth, gave his hair a perfunctory comb, then set out.

The building super was up as usual, mopping the floor of the lobby as Rob came down the stairs. "Elevator's out again, Mr Jonas." the young man said with a smile.

"Don' look at me none, son. I done told them starched shirts that pays my check that the ellyvaytor, she needs a proper service. Damn thing was put in in the War, and I don' mean the one again' the Nazzis." The old man grumbled good-naturedly around his ill-fitting dentures. "I c'n keep on patching the ol' girl, but she needs a proper overhawl, y'know?"

"Yeah." Rob said as he stepped around the bucket of soapy water. "I know." The old man paused mopping and looked at him.

"You goin' out runnin' again, boy?" He shook his head. "Tha's a bad habit here in Queens. Some punk crackhead gets the idea that a nice-lookin' young man has money, and he'll stick you wit'out thinkin' none about it."

"I know, Mr Jonas." Rob said patiently, still smiling a little. "But I need to exercise, and it's less crowded at night."

"It's your life, boy. It's your life, sure enough. You just take care, and if you see one o' them crackheads why, you jess run faster! Eh? Eh?" The old man cackled and winked. Rob laughed and nodded. The old super had this talk with him on average 3 times a month, and Rob considered it a small enough kindness to humor him.

After all, it wasn't like there were people queuing up to offer him good advice and concern.

"Later, Mr Jonas." Rob waved and ducked out into the street, setting off at a steady jog down the sidewalk. At the first side alley, though, the young man ducked out of sight and into the alley's gloom. He waited, letting his eyes adjust and ensuring that he really was alone here. Satisfied, he drew out a pair of old aviator goggles from his pocket and slipped them on before leaning into the electromagnetic currents around him and pushing.

He shot upwards like a cork from a champagne bottle, his ascent almost too fast for him to adjust to. He tried not to whoop: this was the purest form of fun, right here. Of course, if he should lose focus it was also the quickest way to an early grave - Ten feet across and two inches deep.

Two seconds put him at two hundred feet up as he reined in his ascent, slowing himself down to a graceful stop. This was better: last week he'd come to a sudden, jarring stop and almost lost his lunch. Using EM currents to propel himself was a fairly new trick for Rob, but one he was mastering rapidly. He grinned under the goggles and pointed himself westward, becoming a streak of dark colour against the New York skyline as he headed for his 'practice ground', a huge junkyard in Brooklyn near to the Naval Yard.

He kept it low, maintaining his altitude at rooftop level and weaving between the higher buildings rather than hopping over them. A police chopper appeared ahead, causing Rob to tense, but the crew were following a ground pursuit and not even aware of the youth flashing past less than fifteen feet away. For a moment, Rob was tempted to stop and help... But his innate wariness of drawing attention won out and he kept his present course. In five minutes he had reached his destination, and it was with a sigh that Rob landed in the north-western corner of the scrapyard, the familiar smells of rust and metal greeting him like old friends as he felt his sneakers touch the soft ground.

Stretching out his hands, Rob flexed his fingers gently, feeling the grab and pull of his gift as it latched onto a oil container, once part of a truck's rig, pitted and rusty with age yet still a formidable hulk of steel. A faint groan of shifting metal reverberated through the hull, buried under tons of scrapped automobiles and refridgerators, the detritus of the post-industrial age. The groan rose to a shriek as Rob, leaning into his power, inexorably pulled the empty 9000 gallon container free of the imprisoning debris, rising into the air and floating towards the gathering sweep of Rob's hands. He didn't need to make the gestures, but they felt right. It made him feel like the conductor of an orchestra, or a magician. The gestures helped him to focus on what he wanted the metal to do.

He pressed his hands together, then slowly drew them apart in a clawing motion. Metal moaned and screamed as the tank slowly tore apart, the shell peeling away like a rusty, oily fruit skin. Rob concentrated, making sure there were no sparks, no grinding of metal against metal as he disassembled the container into strips of rusted steel. He felt the megnetic currents he was emitting grip and tear the material like invisible fingers tearing paper and quietly exulted. This control, this level of focus was why he had spent the last four years sneaking into junkyards and scrapheaps, honing his gift and becoming its master. In the dance of magnetic forces and the game he made of them he could forget why he had spent so long being afraid of this power.

It took awhile, but when Rob came out of his concentration a humanoid sculpture of gleaming metal stood in a clear area of the scrapyard, surrounded by flaked-off rust in a wide circle.. He grinned to himself and glanced at his cellphone's clock, frowning a little. To completely reshape the container had taken nearly an hour, but looking at the results Rob felt that it had been time well spent.

"Practice time is over." he murmured to himself with a nod. Practice for what, he wasn't sure. There was a sense in the young man of readiness, but unfocused and without direction. Was he going to put on a mask and tights like Apex, come out into the limelight as himself, or was he going to stay in the shadows. With this much power, it seemed somehow wrong to keep it from people who might need him. Still mulling it over, the young Indigo turned to go. He could probably get a good breakfast at his usual diner on Queens Boulevard. When considering weighty questions, eggs benedict were a great aid to the thinking process.

jameson (ST) · July 7, 2010

The Four Queens Diner opened at five a.m. on Sundays. Rob got there a little early, which wasn't unusual for him and bought a newspaper from the little bin in front of the sleek stainless steel building. Three pages in there was a story about a white clad hero showing up to rescue a couple of girls from an wrecked car. Rob read it and knew it was another Indigo. The story was woefully light on detail but then he didn't really expect much. Apex had been operating for a while now and they still had no idea how he could disappear so effectively.

The sudden purple glow from behind him came from the red and blue neon sign that proclaimed the diner to be open. Rob tucked the Times under his arm and went in. Mr. Queen held the door for him, having just unlocked it, and said his usual. "Mornin' kid, eggs Benny?" Rob nodded and took his usual spot at the long counter. "Eggs Benny for Robbie!!" Mr. Queen hollered back where one of his kids was working the kitchen.

"Hey Rob," came the reply. Jessie Queen was working the griddle it seemed. She was younger than Rob by a couple of years, cute as a button and already planning to go to culinary school.

Mr. Queen popped the TV in the corner on and flipped it to the local early news. The story, featuring blurry, shaky, video was about the new super. The video seemed to be from a few different hand held phones or similar. The anchor was repeating the scenario that was in the paper. A car crash, the work of a pair of gang members who had carjacked the vehicle's owner and gone on a drug fueled joyride. The mystery man showed up soon after the accident and had torn the doors off the tiny car before ripping the roof from the SUV with the gang members within. Video showed the man being mobbed by the crowd and then rising into the air and flying away at incredible speed.

"Look at that. Ain't it grand! First Apex, and now this guy. It's like a comic book come to life, real heroes coming to the city in its darkest hour." Mr. Queen was watching the TV as he wiped down the tables and checked on salt and pepper and sugar and the like. "I tall ya kid, this city used to be great back when I was your age. I hope these heroes can bring it back to the way it used ta be!"

Telluris · July 7, 2010

Looks like someone else beat me to the superhero punchbowl. Wonder if he's working with Apex, or another Indigo doing their own thing.

"I dunno, Mr Queen." Rob responded, one eye on the endless replays of the new superhero doing his thing. "Stuff like that is great, falls under the heading of 'concerned citizen' stuff. But Apex is taking on crooks head on, and it stands to reason this guy will too." Rob smiled thankfully as the older man slid a coffee in front of him. "Thanks. So what happens when the crooks start fighting back. Y'know, bringing out bigger guns, using human shields, all of that stuff." He stirred sugar into the strong black coffee, shooting Mr Queen a grin. "I used to read a lot of comic books. Won't be long until some poor guy gets hurt, and then whether it's right or not people are going to blame those guys." He pointed at the screen.

"So you think a for-real superhero should just stand by and let these crooks and gangbangers and crackhead junkies run all over the rest of us?" Mr Queen's shoulders swelled as he leaned on the counter, plainly gearing up for an argument. Rob held up his hands.

"No, sir. Not in the least. I just hope those guys think about that and are ready for it. One thing I know is that having superpowers can lead to the wrong people getting hurt. Or killed." The young man's face was sober for a moment as he looked down at his coffee, then he glanced up and smiled. "Well, that's what comic books have taught me, at least. And I hope the people of NYC don't crucify 'em when something goes wrong."

jameson (ST) · July 7, 2010

The older man nodded, "Yeah, ain't that the truth. The lag time between adoration an' 'what have ya done fer us lately' can't be more than a second or two nowadays. A'course enough money an' PR will still get you elected mayor..."

"Enough about the mayor dad. Sheesh, you'd think that the other candidates weren't all just as corrupt." Jessie came out with a plate and slide it across the counter to Rob. "Here ya go, Eggs Benedict, extra Hollandaise sauce, and I made the home fries extra crispy like you like them." She smiled sweetly before ducking back into the kitchen.

Other customers were already coming in and Mr. Queen was shortly busy filling coffee cups and putting orders out for Jessie. Rob took the opportunity to eat. As usual the food was excellent. All of the Queen's were good cooks but Jessie was the standout by far and it was sometimes baffling why the wasn't getting better business given how good the food was.

Rob speared the last of his home fries and mopped up the last dregs of liquid yolk and Hollandaise with it before popping it into his mouth. Mr. Queen came over, a little less busy now that Samantha was there to help deal with the tables. "So kid, you really think that this is just gonna make the scum bags get worse before it all gets better?"

Telluris · July 8, 2010

Rob nodded as Queen slid another coffee in front of him, this one in a cardboard cup. "Yeah, 'fraid so. It stands to reason that some of these guys have too much to lose to go without a fight." He shrugged. "I just hope Apex and Co are ready for the mess: ready to go Untouchables on the big boys. If not, they should stick to smacking purse-snatchers and getting cats out of trees." He gave the older man a shrug and a smile before tossing a couple of bills onto the counter and slipping from his seat. "Or they'll just make things worse."

"Yeah... Yeah I guess you got a point there." Mr Queen nodded, his brow furrowed in thought as he glanced at the tv set, still displaying the news. "Still... Real superheroes." He smiled at Rob, who nodded and grinned back.

"Yeah. It's pretty damn exciting." He scooped up his coffee and turned towards the door, looking back over his shoulder. "Awesome chow as usual, Jessie!" He called so the busy girl could hear him, then smiled at Mr Queen and nodded. "Keep the change, sir."

"Have a good one, Robbie!"

The door shut behind Rob as he stepped out onto the street and looked at the lightening sky. He took a deep breath of the morning air, then turned and started to walk in the direction of home, sipping at the steaming cup in his hand. Home, shower, then drive over to the island to see if Ms Romano had any work for him. Rob's quiet, elegant employer paid well and didn't ask him to do anything that he wasn't prepared to do. For a young man who'd spent five years as a non-person in New York, that was better than he could have hoped for. Besides, she had no problem with him hitting the books at her place while he was on the clock without anything specific to do.

He mused over his conversation with Mr Queen. The man was a pretty standard New Yorker. Hell, if you cut him in half he'd have "Made In NY" written down the middle of him. If his opinion was anything to go by, then people might warm to the idea of superhumans living amongst them. He pondered that as he walked and drank, enjoying the sensation of the dayfarers of the city waking up around him.

jameson (ST) · July 8, 2010

It was just after six now, and the early sun was but a hint on the horizon, or, more correctly, a hint between and over the buildings that obscured and concealed the horizon. Rob was reminded of just how different Tennessee and New York City were by that simple glow, as if the constant smell, traffic, and the millions of cranky people didn't give it away. He walked and drank, the paper left behind for the next person at the diner who needed it. The coffee was good, he figured that Mr. Queen had poured from a fresh pot as it didn't have that faint burnt taste that old coffee sometimes had.

The coffee lasted halfway to his apartment. Luckily the warm weather from the day before was promising to repeat as it wasn't nearly as cool this morning as it could have been. Dressed as he was for his earlier flight he was able to shrug past the chill easily enough. A few blocks later his morning went south in a spare few minutes. Rob had just turned down an alley to take a shortcut when a black van pulled up to block the other end. The door slid open and a pair of black clad men disembarked.

Fighting panic he spun to flee the alley from the direction he came and found another man, similarly, if not identically, clad drop down from above on a think black rappelling rope. Three on one were poor odds but one was armed with what looked like a saw-off shotgun, depending on the load-out that weapon might or might not be a problem. Another was apparently carrying a Taser, which shouldn't be an issue, Rob hoped, given that the leads would have to be metallic to carry current. The last was unarmed at present, using both of his hands to control his descent from above. All three had black masks on, they looked like the kinds of special forces teams one saw in movies.

Click to reveal.. (That Creepy Feeling)

Telluris · July 8, 2010

Shit! was the first thought that flashed through Rob's head. This was ten types of bad. These guys looked like government, which meant that they knew who he was and, if they were trying to black-bag him, knew what he was. Fear, outrage and anger filled him at that point: he wasn't a threat to national security - he just wanted to be left alone. All of his carefully-constructed life that he had spent 4+ years putting together was about to be torn away. Struggling to keep calm and not simply lash out, he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded, tensing and making note of any metallic objects that might be around. That dumpster, for example. The fire escape to his left. Yes, he was far from helpless. He kept an eye on the shotgun-wielder though - a plastic or rubber round would ruin his day but good.

jameson (ST) · July 8, 2010

"Come with us and you can find out. Resist and things get less pleasant for you," the man at the rope said, his voice only slightly muffled by the mask covering his features. With a flick of his wrist the rope disengaged from above and came spooling down. He caught a small spring loaded grapple head as it fell and then looked from it to Rob. The metal of the grapple gleamed in the dim light of the alley, "Don't get any ideas."

"Who are you guys? What do you want with me?" Rob tried to keep his voice level but the situation was less than ideal. At least there was plenty of metallic crap around the alley, plus that grappling hook, if they'd have caught him moving through the park he'd have been powerless.

"Who we are is none of your concern." The grapple hit the ground as the leader came forward, "We know about your practice sessions."

"Ahh. So you guys are from the recycling people? Or the scrap workers union?" Rob replied blithely.

"That's funny kid, but that doesn't change the fact that you're coming with us." The threat was backed up by the rather humorless tone of the man's voice, he clearly was not joking around.

"Do I get a phone call? I need to tell my girl I'm off to join the Navy." Nervousness made his voice waver a bit as he cracked wise, it was his outlet for the negative feelings.

From behind Rob, within the van, a voice said, "Enough of this bullshit, grab the punk. Now. We're exposed here."

Rob turned and smirked, "Now that's a mental image I didn't need. Hairy soldiers exposing themselves in New York. Guess you really are Navy." Rob reached out to the dumpster and flung it sideways into the two men standing side by side.

The dumpster clipped them both catching the man with the taser and tossing him to the ground stunned. The man with the shotgun rolled and came up with his weapon ready. There was a deafening explosion and Rob was hit in the chest with a wad of blue gel fired from the shotgun. The gel hit off center however and while it hurt Rob was easily able to push past the pain. The leader moved in toward Rob in a boxer's stance and quickly hit him with a body blow. He whuffed out his breath from the impact but steeled against the attack as he was he was about to keep going for a little longer, pushing the pain away as he hauled in a deep breath.

Click to reveal.. (D'Numbahs)

Click to reveal.. (Damage)

Click to reveal.. (Order of Battle)

Round 1

Taser guy just became unstunned. It is Rob's Turn, 48 hours.

Telluris · July 8, 2010

"You guys should really just make... an appointment next time." Rob wheezed as he tried to face off with the trained black-ops thug in close with him. "I'd have made cookies." He swayed to one side...

And the taser in the hands of the guy on the ground discharged, the two darts hissing through the air at the guy in close with Rob. For a moment, it looked as though the ploy would work, but the trained reflexes of the man in black were enough for him to duck at the last moment. The darts whizzed past his head, and through the eyeholes in the mask, a cold gaze narrowed on the youth.

"Cute." the soldier growled. Rob shrugged and gave a wan smile.

"Can't blame me for trying." The spook didn't seem impressed by Rob's boyish charm, closing in once more and raising his hands.

"Wanna bet?"

Click to reveal.. (Ooops)

jameson (ST) · July 8, 2010

The iconic sound of a pump action shotgun racking a new shell into its chamber preceded another blast. The blob of gel momentarily bisected the melee missing both parties before it slammed into the brick side of the alley leaving a blue smear. Focused as he was on the leader as he closed in for another round of punches he barely even heard the swearing of the guy with the taser. Rob tried to evade as best he could the leader's next attack and was rewarded as the man's next jab missed completely. Thrown off balance he punched the building, howling a string of obscenities. The crunch of a boot to Rob's leg was enough to bring the third combatant back to Rob's attention however as he now found himself in melee with two of the three men.

Click to reveal.. (D'Numbahs)

Click to reveal.. (Damage)

Click to reveal.. (Order of Battle)

Round 2

It is Rob's Turn, 48 hours.

Telluris · July 8, 2010

Click to reveal.. (Man of Iron!)

"Shit!" Rob threw himself prone on the grimy alley floor with a cry of pain as he clutched at the kicked leg, causing both men to pause for a split second. "You broke my leg you jarhead fucker!" The two men glanced at each other, then one shrugged and they moved to secure the boy.

Click to reveal.. (Fooled Ya)

The dumpster, hitherto forgotten, sprang into the air and swept down the alley towards the two soldiers. It swept over Rob's head at knee height and into the two men with the force of an angry giant.

Click to reveal.. (It's Clobberin' Time)

jameson (ST) · July 8, 2010

The dumpster hit both men like a flying battering ram and sent them tumbling before it hit the ground and rolled to the end of the alley and onto the sidewalk beyond. The sound of the thing was like a sheet metal thunder machine gone crazy. The Leader was slammed down and barely managed to sit up he was so stunned by the impact. His taser armed cohort went down and didn't move, knocked out cold by the improvised weapon. Te shotgun racked again and then thunder poured down on Rob. A wad of gel hit him like a sledgehammer in the back.

Click to reveal.. (D'Numbahs)

Click to reveal.. (Damage)

Click to reveal.. (Order of Battle)

Round 3

It is Rob's Turn, 48 hours.

Telluris · July 8, 2010

Click to reveal.. (Take the pain!)

Rob rolled with the impact of the gel, fighting back tears of real pain as he got his feet under him once more. This wasn't going well: these bad guys were trained and equipped to take down someone exactly like him. There was no way in hell he was going to win this - he already felt like a football team had trampled him. He forced a cocky smile for the dude with the shotgun.

"Thanks for the invite to the potluck, but I'm outta here. Your Jell-o sucks, FYI." With that parting shot, he gathered his powers and rocketed upwards as fast as he could.

Ow. Ow, ow, OW! My damn ribs. My damn back. I hope those guys hurt as bad as this, I really do. Where the hell do I go? What the hell do I DO? They know who I am, they know where I am, and they can take me. ShitshitSHIIIIT! He fumbled in his jacket and pulled on his flying goggles. Nowhere to go. Can't go home, can't go to Ms Romano. She'd not be impressed with me leading black-ops goombahs to her door. "Oh, hey Ms Romano. Yeah, funny thing. I'm actually a dude with magnetic powers and the government wants to lock me up. His mind whirling with panic and growing despair, Rob realised that he was high over Manhattan.

Got to land and think. Calm down, Rob. Breathe deep... okay, not too deep, that's New York down there... Focus. Dammit. I think they cracked a rib or two. That made up his mind. Picking out a skyscraper, the young Indigo swooped down to land on it's roof and take stock. On touching down, Rob peeled off his jacket, then lifted up his t-shirt to survey his bruises.

jameson (ST) · July 8, 2010

Rob lighted on the roof of an apartment building and all but fell over. His torso hurt like he'd been the bag for a pro-boxer and that last move of his had taken the wind from his sails like a full workout. He stood, hands on knees, breathing raggedly for a minute before he was able to push past the fatigue. Rob pulled up his shirt, his chest was a mess of wide bruises and twisting his torso sent stabs of pain through his back that spoke of what he would find there when he got the chance to look in a mirror. He fixed his clothes as he caught something in the predawn sky.

A helicopter.

At this distance he couldn't make out any markings but on a Sunday at six thirty there were no traffic 'copters in the air. that meant, police, emergency, private, or other. He swallowed and hoped it wasn't other. Jumping into the air he rocketed across Manhattan up past Central Park and deep into Harlem. The subway ride back to his apartment would be less than pleasant but he could rest on it at least. Rob looked back and saw the helicopter following him. Crap! He changed direction and poured on the speed. As fast as he'd ever gone. This was to flight as sprinting was to running, at a guess and from the "whump" behind him he had easily broken the sound barrier. At one thousand miles per hour he shot south into the skies over Long Island and then headed down as quickly as he could while pulling back on speed for a safe landing.

He landed in a small park and quickly stumbled over to some trees, his body trembling with adrenaline from the speed of the flight. He looked down at himself. His shirt was tattered and frayed, as were the ends of his pant legs. Apparently mach level speeds, and winds, weren't gentle for clothing. Still, as he looked into the sky he saw no sign of of the helicopter. Small victories.

Telluris · July 8, 2010

Rob put his back to the tree's trunk and sat, breathing heavily and moaning at the feeling of the hard bark against his back. The fear and anger-spawned adrenaline was wearing off, and the young Indigo was feeling every ache and pain even more acutely.

Rest for a bit... Just a few minutes... His eyes fluttered shut. Goin' call Ms Romano. She might be able t'help. Ow... My ribs... Tired...

Curled up against the tree, Rob passed out.

[Continued in Prologue 2: Rob & Tess ]

jameson (ST) · July 9, 2010

Minutes ago...

Rob rocketed straight up and cleared the buildings in a fraction of a second, a slight alteration of his course arced him out over the city and away before the man with the shotgun could even cycle the next round. "Damnit!" He flicked the safety on and slung the weapon into a holster over his shoulder as he made his way to the two fallen men. "Here," he said to their leader as he offered the dazed man a hand up. "I'd have had him but he rabbited."

The other man stood with help and a groan. He looked into the sky, "The air team will track him." They walked to the third member of the team, "Help me get him into the van. We're running out of time, somebody will have called about those blasts."

A head stuck out of the van, another man, dressed the same, "Police ETA in eight minutes, but we'd better get a move on." The other two nodded to the driver and hauled the unconscious form to his feet and into the van. The van sped away and was gone before the sound of sirens ever reached the alley.

Mutants & Masterminds: The Indigo Children - [Prologue] Robert

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