Realistic or Modern The Shark and the Lone Star. (Superhero/super villain romance.)

[Steel Accord]

The Harley Davidson roared loudly as it pulled into the outskirts of Paragon City. The man atop it adjusted his Stetson hat to look upon it proper. He huffed. Really not excited to be here. He didn’t like the big city. He didn’t even like Austin. Yet a friend asked him to travel here at least once and he was nothing if not a man of his word.

He stoked the engine and rode into Paragon City. The City of Heroes.

 

[FrozenInEcstasy]

After a certain point, even the bizarre became a routine. Paragon City, a lively place bustling with business and superheroes, was as alive as it always was. Cars, buses, and even a few trucks, the whole works, drove by without their drivers giving so much as a thought about the civilians. The harsh smell of exhaust stung her nostrils, and the flashing of the car radios and cellphones cluttered her vision. To be fair, this didn't happen to everyone. Seeing the vibrancy was impossible for ordinary humans.

Katherine hiked her purse straps closer to her body, adjusting her posture to stand taller. It wasn't like she needed it, as she already stood at a somewhat imposing five-foot-nine. The size of her shoulders were further emphasized by the number of bags - four - on her shoulders. They were bigger than the ordinary purse, yet not enough to draw suspicion to the unwary or uncaring.

It was nice, almost, to go out into the world as herself. Something about Paragon City, at least when she wasn't "working", was almost beautiful. She'd admired that, especially the way the sunlight reflected off of the nearby bank office. Was it possible for her to rent an apartment and just sleep?

Not without some sort of catch.

She made her way down the street, finding it in herself to hold the bags steady. It was only when she stepped past the second half of the intersection did the distinct hum of a motorcycle reach her ears. She turned toward the source of the sound, determining quickly that it was a few blocks away...

 

[Steel Accord]

On which rode a man named Nolan Ritter. He stood out among the average folk of Paragon with his big boots, denim jeans, and stetson hat. He had business to attend to in this city and it weren't the normal kind. 'Course normal is a setting on a washing machine. He always said. He rode into Atlas Park and pulled up to Town Hall, parking his bike by the backlot. He sauntered on inside, surrounded by costumed rodeo clowns. Then again he 'weren't one to throw stones in that department. He walked up to the secretary at the desk, removing his hat.

"Howdy."

"Welcome to Atlas Park office of the Federal Bureau of Super-Powered Affairs. Can I help you?"

"A'hm just here to check in. Name should already be in the register."

"Please face the scanner." He did so and it scanned his features.

"You're all set. Just so you know, confidential information. I don't know your alias, your address, or your powers. Just your security level."

"Thank ya kindly. Anyplace I can get changed?" She pointed out the back.

"Back room, no one will see you leave."

"Thank ya. Have a g'day ma'am." He nodded and departed. When he walked out of the back he was in his proper attire. An odd clash of aesthetics. It looked like a combination of a farmhand's work overalls and a karate gi, light blue in color. His hat remained on his head but now it was completed by a red head covering mask. He had a colt revolver holstered at his leg. "Well, best git to work." He cartwheeled over the retaining wall, landed on his Harley, and tore out of the parking lot. As he was cruising he flipped open his police scanner, listening in on whoever might need help.

 

[FrozenInEcstasy]

"Rescue units, can you hear this? Yes, you can, excellent. Active personnel within six blocks, make your way to the corner of Joan and Gulley avenues. We are severely lacking in on-site superpowers to deal with the current hostage situation. There are seven perpetrators within the Brimholtz Holdings Office. Four hostages identified."

As the police captain put the radio away, Acolyt crossed his arms. He was a rather skinny man, and he felt that he had nothing to contribute. Of course, he really didn't. Without another superpowered individual nearby, there was nothing he could do. His team consisted of healers, and they couldn't regenerate fast enough to ignore sustained gunfire. Acolyte loaded a magazine into his pistol and gently placed his hand on the slide.

"Hi." A voice came from his left. A silver-haired girl, who had just been talking with the officer, came to see him. She couldn't have been older than eighteen or nineteen, and clearly suited up for combat. From her boots to a ballistic vest, she looked as though she was ready to charge straight in.

"Fission," Acolyt murmured. His voice wasn't particularly deep.

"Acolyt," she replied, then paused. A smile crept across her face. "What? Why'd you say my name?"

"Headcount reasons," he waved his hand. "It's only you and Harmony, and you know that Harmony doesn't fight. Hostage situation, seven baddies and four hostages. Don't think they're important people-"

"Of course they are!" Fission interjected. "Important enough that I didn't blast the second floor!"

"You didn't blast any floor. And I mean important, as in politicians," Acolyt coughed. "I need manpower. Someone tough who can dish it and take it."

"Why? Atomizing doesn't cut it for you?" Fission raised her hand, curling her fingers inwards. A slight pop and a flash of light danced around on her palm.

"No." Acolyt replied. "Wearing a ballsy vest doesn't mean I'm sending you in there. Like I said, I need durability. You know the rules, right? Give me a power, I'll make it stronger-"

"...but should you abuse it you'll have it no longer. Yeah, I get it, you need a strong hero." Fission snarled.

Acolyt didn't reply. He simply gripped his pistol tighter and pressed his cracked lips into a hard line, unsure of what to say.

 

[Steel Accord]

Knuckle Duster picked up on this call. Hostage situation? Well, no time like the present. He leaned over and pulled his Harley around and to the emergency stop, crossing the police blockade to asses the situation.

“Hey y’all?” He crouched next to Acolyt. “Names Knuckle Duster. Heard there was a mess a trouble here. Something about hostages?” He was willing and able to fight. He could pack one Hell of a punch, literally.

 

[FrozenInEcstasy]

"Hello, Knuckle Dust-wait. Are you new? I've never seen you around," Acolyt inquired, raising an eyebrow. He scratched his head with the back of his wrist, barely bristling past his buzzed hair. It wouldn't be wrong to say that Knuckle Duster was the oddest-one-out of the four heroes on scene, especially with his attire.

Acolyt himself wore a suit, a blue dress shirt, and boots that were a combination of sneakers and formal shoes. Fission stood there, with her ballistic vest and...no weapons. And then there was Harmony, who wore an apron and fingerless nylon gloves. The black-haired pale-skinned healer gave a short nod in Knuckle Duster's direction - a nod of acknowledgement, and hopeful trust.

"It doesn't matter if he's new here," Fission spoke, nudging Acolyt in the ribs. "I think he's your guy."

"Seven perps need bashing, and four hostages need saving. Fission can do the saving. Harmony can fix anything that goes wrong. All I need is muscle," Acolyt explained. "Can you dish it out?"

 

[Steel Accord]

He cracked his neck.
“. . . Like a fry cook come rush hour,” he said.

 

[FrozenInEcstasy]

"Perfect," Acolyt nodded. He racked the slide of his pistol and stepped toward the building, pushing past the four police officers that were scribbling on their notepads on how to tackle the situation.

"I shoulda mentioned this to you earlier, Knuckle Duster. My power 'roids up your power, which means you're gonna get a lot stronger inside that building. I'd pull punches if I were you, but ultimately that's your decision." He turned to the silver-haired girl. "Fi, the door."

"Right." Fission slammed her right hand into the locks. A gust of hot wind blasted back her hair and ruffled her clothes, yet the actual detonation was rather underwhelming. It was more like a firecracker popping as opposed to a deafening bang. It left a pungent smell of ozone hanging in the air, which only intensified as the steel doors toppled with a crash.

 

[Steel Accord]

“Good to know,” he said. When the door blew Knuckle rounded the door and launched in. Already he could feel himself juiced up like he was supercharged. The hostage takers didn’t expect to see the door busted so they were caught flat footed.

Knuckle Duster blasted the closest one with his lowered shoulder and reared up after impact. The effect was like a linebacker just plowed through the goon, sending him over Knuckle and landing prone on the floor.

Gridiron hammer

Next one got a roundhouse kick followed by a spin kick, knocking him into one of the teller desks. Much harder than normal due to the power boost.

Twister kick

The third one was finally able to whirl around and get his weapon at the ready. Knuckle Duster vaulted over a podium to take cover. Splinters exploded all around him. When they stopped he whiled around and threw his hat in the air, it was enough of a distraction to close the distance and nail him in the gut with hard kick followed by a flying knee.

Bronco Buster.

Three down. The fourth one held his rifle to one of the hostages. No time for moves or tricks now. Knuckle’s hand flew, he slapped leather, and put two in the man who fell to the bank vault floor. Giving his weapon a little twirl before returning it to his holster.

Four down on his end.

 

[FrozenInEcstasy]

From Acolyt's point of view, especially his mind's eye, he could tell, feeling the power behind each of Knuckle Duster's blows. Each strike caused a mild sprain to appear on Acolyt's wrists, and a bruise to appear on his fingers. He could barely hold his gun steady as he went down the right side, where three of the assailant stood.

He cocked the gun and fired off a shot at a perp's chest, knocking him down. Before he could get another off, Fission leapt forward. She ducked behind a door and swung her arm as though she'd been throwing a baseball.

A series of crackles rattled the windows, and a flash of light not unlike the muzzle of a gun clouded the hall. The result was deafening and devastating, with the wave of exploding air creating a gust. Chances are that the two remaining perpetrators were out, cold.

"They're down!" Fission exclaimed. She kept her hands up as she trod backwards.

"But I can't find any hostages..."

 

[Steel Accord]

"They gotta be in the back, come on!" Knuckle lead them into the back, the bank vault itself being sealed shut with bound and gagged people waving as it closed in on them. Knuckle tried to rush to the vault door but it closed and locked before he could get there.

"Don't s'ppose any y'all got a really heavy blowtorch?"

 

[FrozenInEcstasy]

"We brought Fission along, though I'm not sure if she can punch through the vault," Acolyt said, pointing his pistol at the vault. He hadn't cocked it since, and showed no intention of trying to shoot it; it would have been futile anyways.

"Heavy blowtorch? That's really specific." Fission asked, jogging up to the vault. Sweat had already beaded up on her forehead, both from the heat of her attacks and the constant back-and-forth. She huffed out a plume of near-transparent smoke.

"Your powers are already amped, but it's still a bank vault." Acolyt explained. He turned to Knuckle Duster, brushing off Fission as though she was a child. "Anything short of half a ton of TNT won't do anything, and going above that's just asking to destroy whatever, or whomever, is inside."

"Blowtorch, then. I'll torch it," Fission placed her hand against the vault's cold exterior. She pressed her thumb and index finger together, as though she were holding in a nail, and drew back her fist.

"Knuckle Duster, I'd get back for this. It's not going to work, but I'm still not willing to get splattered by molten metal." Acolyt sighed.

 

[Steel Accord]

“Or . . . I was just bein’ funny. We find the code in the office and unlock it that way. ‘Sides, bandits are all down. We can call in the cavalry and get some help finding the codes.” He suggested the more down to Earth solution.

 

[FrozenInEcstasy]

Acolyt frowned. "That's hilarious. But seriously, bank vaults need more than one person to open. I'll go with. Fission, do the rescue bit. Call the cops in."

He tossed his radio in her direction and pulled up a floor plan on his cellphone. "Think the office is on the third floor, and that door has a passkey. I'm sure you can knock it down, though."

Fission already had the cops on the radio. "Hi, hello, hi! We need some guns here. Air-explosions are going to choke everyone in there. Hostages are bound, perps are in masks."

A pattering of footsteps filled the halls, while Acolyt made his way to the elevator.

 

[Steel Accord]

Knuckle Duster followed Acolyt to the elevator and while the two of them were in it, Dusty broke the silence.

"Fer the record, this ain't mah first rodeo. Fresh to Paragon, ain't fresh to the mask. Though Ah do 'prreciate y'all helpin' me to git mah footin'." Knuckle Duster said in a very pronounced Texas drawl.

 

[FrozenInEcstasy]

"I understand. Be glad that Fission and I are your first partners, not anyone else. The majority of heroes here in Paragon strive for the limelight. They'd always fuck up the mission." Acolyt sucked in a breath and activated his ability, empowering any powers within the building. An explosion rocked the third floor, rumbling from below. He didn't pay much mind to it, automatically assuming it belonged to Fission.

Acolyt made his way to the office. The door was, obviously locked. He turned to Knuckle Duster. "Little help?"

 

[Steel Accord]

Knuckle Duster frowned. It weren't his way to judge another man. Especially those what did what he did. He was now a little more skeptical of Acolyt though. Knuckle Duster's friend wouldn't steer him to a place where other superheroes were in a bad way. Dusty was reminded of a piece of advice, "if everyone you meet is an asshole. It's probably you."

Knuckle Duster gave a firm front kick to the door's handle and it flew off the hinges. With a little rifling through the office, they found what they were looking for. While they walked, Knuckle Duster talked.

"Ya' know. Ya meet all kinds doing what we do. When I was ridin' through Memphis, I met this firefighter named Macaulay, 'Mac.' Boy howdy, don't know how he fit his head through the door." Knuckle Duster chuckled to himself.

 

[FrozenInEcstasy]

"I'd suppose that being a firefighter is a noble job, regardless of how big of an ego you've got. So long as it doesn't get in the way of your job." Acolyt tossed a set of keys up in the air, then caught them. Unlike a regular set of keys, these were held together by a long chain. Unusable, unless two individuals used them at the same time. Another paper, enclosed in the envelope with the keys, included the mechanical box number that would open the vault.

Acolyt popped open the long, rectangular box by the vault once they'd made their way down the elevator, and pushed one key into his end. He handed the other key to Knuckle Duster. "Turn it whenever you're ready. I'll turn this one at the same time. The vault's gonna open, and then we take it from there."

Several officers stood just in front of them, a good ten paces ahead of the box. Some even held ballistic shields, which Acolyt had no idea were there. Fission idled about next to a particularly antsy officer, resting her hands on his shoulders and softly whispering. She had her eyes locked on the vault.

"Ready?"

 

[Steel Accord]

“Ready,” he nodded. He then turned the key. Acolyt wasn’t wrong necessarily. Still, that comment he made was hanging on him.

“The majority of heroes here in Paragon strive for the limelight. They'd always fuck up the mission."

Awfully presumptuous. Again Knuckle Duster trusted his friend and his friend wouldn’t point him in this direction with such corrupt capes. Then again, if they were all like Acolyt . . .