Reboots Mean Doom

We got things straightened out and I left my old shell with Prof. Doctor. The last I saw my old self, she was carefully scraping the black gunk off of it. I’m fully expecting to have to fight my evil twin within a year.

So I’m a couple weeks back now and I think I’m ready to destroy the group.

It isn’t anything specific– or rather a whole series of very specific things. The way Yes Man eats a sandwich, that Chrysalis Archer poses before a mirror when he thinks no one is watching, the broken sewer pipe to the base that we can’t get anyone out to fix unless we provide a $100K bond for their workers safety. I have temporarily deactivated my olfactory powers– a procedure much akin to shoving a screwdriver up your nose in search of sinus relief.

But let me go back a bit– just to set the scene and atmosphere for what’s happening right now, again if you’ve looked out your window and seen dinosaurs ravaging your neighbors or are in that part of the country currently under assault by cyborg raccoons, then you know what I’m talking about. If not, give it a minute.

So back at the ‘base’ I went through my favorite part of coming back with a new body– the “accidental” misunderstanding fight between heroes. I landed and headed in when Yes Man came barreling out of security trailer, the sound of a car alarm blaring behind him. He hit me about mid-chest with a maneuver I know he picked up from a wrestling video game. I staggered back and he flopped to the concrete in front of me.

INTRUDER!…FRONTLINE ASSEMBLE!” I didn’t think his voice could get louder, but it could.

Don’t say that—they’ve got lawy…” Yes Ass interrupted me with a boot to the head. Now, by all rights I should have been saying stop, but seeing him laying on the ground clutching his head from the bad hit– I was more irritated than worried. I stumbled back and watched Yes Man roll up to his feet, fists flying. He’d apparently learned his fighting moves on a super playground. I grabbed a free hand, twisted and threw him.

Which is how that sewer pipe I mentioned earlier got broken. So maybe I shouldn’t complain about that too much.

Listen…I’m Robot Ze…” Interrupted again– this time by the gigantic hammer driving me into the ground. This was how I learned that Cyber-tron was a shapechanger…or a steel version of Stretch Armstrong. He was up on me– one arm formed into a ridiculous hammer and the other into gigantic pruning shears. He lunged forward with those to clip my head off. They bounced off my static field, and I powered up.

Your electric blasts will have no effect on my insulated frame.”

Yup.” I clicked off my non-lethal safety and launched a ball of plasma into his chest. Robo-Dick knew it was me.

I learned then that a lack of understanding of human emotions doesn’t preclude someone from screaming like a crushed baby. Not that I know what that sounds like. Anyway, Cybertron started flailing around and making high pitched squeals just because I blew his arm off– an arm I now planned to beat him with.

Except I started getting pummeled by ghosts, gothicky ghosts with chains and long wind-blown spooky hair and eyes that were like liquid pools of sorrow. I saw Kim Reaper waving her hands in some pattern and reciting bad poetry.

Do you even understand what Goth is?” I shouted as her Byron-esque summonings pitched me across the parking lot. I landed at Chrysallis Archer’s feet.

Great– Archer help me up…” I looked up and saw the cocked bow and an expression that said “I’m not listening.” With a twang the arrow went into my right eye. A subroutine the doctor had installed popped up with a quote for the repairs. She reloaded in one quick motion– this time the arrow had a cartoon bomb on the end. I reached up and pulled the arrow out and jammed it into her foot. More screaming, and as I rolled to my feet I saw Yes Man and Kim Reaper prepping for the next round of beating the crap out of me.

OK– I think we’re done.” And Meta-Woman inserted a scene-break.

I think I’ve pointed out before how irritating I find reality-alerting powers, but I could handle this. Meta-woman and I were seated at a table in the dining hall. We were apparently in mid-conversation.

So what I don’t get is why every time we run into each other we end up fighting– misunderstandings, supposed mind control, lack of communication. It’s like meeting new supers drains the collective intelligence in the area.” I found myself saying– I mean I said it, but this ‘in medias res’ crap…whatever.

Fan appeal– the chance to see their dream fight. New tinder for flame wars.” Meta-Woman said.

What are you talking about?” I couldn’t follow anything.

Sorry– my powers.” Meta-Woman focused on her coffee. “Anyway, I figure there’s something big– cosmic crisis, major crossover coming soon.”

What makes you say that?”

They gave a crappy character like you a reboot.”

Which of course, turned out to be the case.


3 Responses to Reboots Mean Doom

  1. Shari says:

    “I learned then that a lack of understanding of human emotions doesn’t preclude someone from screaming like a crushed baby.”

    And thus Dr. Pepper burned my nose this evening…

  2. Pitfall says:

    I think I’ve had Meta-Woman play in a few RPGs that I’ve run in years past.

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