You guys wanted this follow-up… Fair warning, there’s no happy ending to this one.

...

Cloudburst knew he should have checked in on Null more often, but the villains had been learning. Ever since Cybertech had rampaged down Richmond Street, things had changed. Attacks near public spaces had become more deliberate. Some went out of their way to have flashy displays. While others began trying to hit major infrastructures.

“That was the third attempted robbery this week.” Freestyle laid his head down on his arms. “Where are they even getting all those weapons?”

Night Wolf nursed a mug of coffee as she asked, “How many casualties this time?”

Cloudburst reluctantly replied, “Not too many, but not zero either.”

“You’re sure we can’t get Null to help out more?” Blaze tapped the tabletop in irritation, his powers causing the surface to sizzle.

Snow Raven shook her head. “No, they’ve got eyes on him now. The last two weeks have only confirmed our suspicions.”

The past few months had been rough. The first time they suspected anything was when a small-time villain blew up a local monument. Despite the chaos and threats of violence, he surrendered when Null arrived. That was when the Supers Collective had begun limiting Null’s activities. Cloudburst and the others had to work overtime to compensate.

“We need a plan, dammit!” Blaze seared a hole into the table. “Anything to slow the villains down! Strike fear into their hearts.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Freestyle shook his head. “That would go against everything we stood for!”

“And letting so many people die isn’t?”

Cloudburst rubbed his temples as the familiar argument began anew. But before they could start brawling, an alarm sounded.

Night Wolf looked over at the computers. “Another one?”

Cloudburst squinted at the text scrolling past. “No, something’s – ”

An explosion rocked the building. Then, an oversized metal fist punched through the far wall. The impact shook the floor and knocked everyone off their feet. A robotic faceplate peered into the room, one electronic eye scanning them with a red light.

“Supers identified.”

Blaze and Cloudburst recovered at the same time. They raised their hands, sending plasma and lightning leaping through the air.

“Attack! Get outside!” Cloudburst tackled the robot while Blaze dove into its chest.

The construct teetered and fell backward from their combined attack. Screams rang out as the metal frame crashed through a building. The smell of blood filled the air.

“Blaze!” Cloudburst built up energy in his arms and drove them into the robot’s head.

As electricity danced across the machine, Blaze reemerged holding wires and metal. The robot stopped moving, but the damage had already been done. The street was ruined, and several bodies lay beneath the rubble.

Then, a hollow clapping filled the street. “A bit disappointing. I thought my battlebots would have fared better. Oh well. What’s the human term? Quantity over quality?”

Explosions rang out in the distance as two more of the bots crashed through the streets. An android strolled toward them even as the other Supers landed nearby. Only one villain had that sarcastic and inhuman voice.

“Cybertech.” Cloudburst stepped forward.

The robotic villain had been quiet for months. The constant attacks had kept him from thinking about Cybertech much.

“What a shame Null isn’t around. I’m sure his power would’ve been much appreciated right about now. Too bad no one ever thought anything of him.”

Cloudburst felt his heart stop. They know.

“I mean, have you seen the articles of the Sham Hero? That saying really caught on, didn’t it? What was it again? ‘First on the scene, never does a thing’? I can’t even claim responsibility for that one. That was on you humans.” Cybertech opened their arms. “The rest of it was child’s play. All I had to do was manipulate what bits of media he saw and…”

Electricity hissed through the air. Cloudburst accelerated forward and put a fist through the android’s body. Cybertech only laughed in that broken way of theirs.

“Face it, Cloudy. The time of humans is coming to an end. And you Supers will only be complicit.” The android’s eyes dimmed before the body fell limp.

Cloudburst threw it aside in disgust.

“Snow Raven, Freestyle. With me. The rest of you, hold the line until we can bring Null here. We need to stop Cybertech before they destroy the city.”

No one questioned his orders. Almost two dozen Supers leaped through the air to engage a different battlebot. Cloudburst turned to the remaining two.

“Grab ahold.”

“Ah, man. You know I hate traveling like this.” Freestyle complained but grabbed onto Cloudbursts’ hand.

Snow Raven did the same, though the worried look in her eyes did not wane. With a surge of energy, a cage of electricity surrounded them before launching into the air. As they flew, a track of lightning appeared and guided them to their destination. Freestyle let out a grunt as they accelerated. A moment later, they landed near a small ranch outside the city. Cloudburst did not wait for his compatriots to recover as he went and knocked on the front door.

“Null! Are you in there?” A cold feeling filled the pit of his stomach when there was no response.

With a grunt, he kicked open the front door and went inside. It did not take long to find Null. Cloudburst exited the home as the others approached.

“Cloudburst… is he…” Snow Raven seemed as exhausted as he felt.

He shook his head. Freestyle kicked the side of the building with a sharp curse. Snow Raven only bowed her head. Even now, the battlebots rampaged through the city. Bursts of fire and plasma spiraled into the air as Etna and Blaze did what they could. They would not hold long against Cybertech, not while trying to protect the innocents as well.

“He had a wife and child, didn’t he?” Snow Raven looked back toward the building. “Are they also…?”

Freestyle let out a scoff. “You mean you didn’t hear? They got divorced a few months back. She took the kid. Pretty sure she couldn’t handle all the negative press, even if they never knew her.”

Cloudburst blinked, stunned. Null never said anything about a divorce.

Another explosion shook the city, reminding them of what was at stake. Cloudburst took a deep breath and rubbed his stinging eyes.

“We have to get back.” His voice cracked a bit at the end, but neither of the other two acknowledged it.

The mourning would have to wait – Cybertech had made their intentions clear. But even as they flew back toward the fighting, his confidence waned. The world had become a darker place with the loss of his friend.

...

A few bits of inspiration:

One Punch Man – similar mockery, but Null was not as resilient against the public

codeki’s comment – it got me thinking about how Cybertech was not human and couldn’t care less if there was collateral damage

Ultron – naturally

[removed]

I think the police force is going to be making a LARGE donation to the The Supers Collective in the near future to make this police brutality and total cock-up go away.

"Did… did you just call me a 'mob'?"

Always love it when Supes gets a smack.

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#Found

Part 2

It had been a long time since Justin had heard the words ‘Lights Out’. And good thing too, those words held an ominous meaning in the world of spies and agents. It meant the end was near. That safe havens were falling by the dozen and all whilst no remedy was in sight.

It was usually reserved for when a nation was near its end. When the coup, revolt, invading force or whatever else was threatening its security was drawing dangerously near. Justin supposed that a world-ending force rather than simply a nation-ending force deserved a somewhat cooler name than ‘Lights Out’, but it worked nonetheless.

“The Lost are approaching on all sides. At a snail’s pace, sure, but they’re approaching nonetheless,” the woman announced to the small collection of very powerful people in the briefing room. Incredibly wealthy elites. Politicians with more power than some nations. Some of the collective spy agencies’ best operatives. A few choice cats. Justin only liked one of those categories.

“So how do we defend ourselves?” Simone asked from her little table. Justin noted with some amusement that she had failed to distinguish between the small table and a seat. And promptly sat on said table as if it were a chair. Justin was also surprised to note that Simone was far more alert and attentive during this briefing. About as attentive as he should probably be.

“We don’t,” the woman started, eyeing Simone as if she too were surprised. “Forty-two days prior, we came into possession of a rather fascinating artefact. Agent Satter has been examining it just this morning.” As if on cue, all eyes in the room turned to Justin. Even the cats.

Raising his hand, Justin gave the occupants of the room a clear view of the crystal, its electric-blue glow almost uncomfortably bright. With so many eyes on him, Justin felt the urge to do something silly, inject some humour into an otherwise dreadfully boring briefing.

Without a second thought and still with the room’s collection of eyes on him, Justin twirled about on the spot, shaking his hands in a bizarre mix of a wave and a frantic gesture for help. He was trying to dance. Nobody even cracked a smile. Damn.

“Anyway,” the woman continued, ignoring Justin’s failed attempt at a celebratory boogie dance. “We’ve had sufficient time to test the shard and its purported abilities quite extensively. And I am happy to announce that it does in fact work.

It’s fine, Justin thought glumly. People are embarrassed by impromptu dancing, but I love it. History is nothing more than a tableau of crimes and misfortunes. And these people are the sum of that. So who cares if they don’t appreciate my sick moves? Simone certainly does. But peaking over, Justin was repulsed to find that Simone was not in fact amused by his outburst. In fact, she wasn’t even paying him any mind. She was a strange woman indeed.

“And we’ve also been able to confirm that the crystal remains enchanted after being broken up. And that each resulting shard’s potency depends on its size.” Looking at the piece in his hand, Justin noted again the odd edges and sharpened corners. As if what he was holding was merely broken off from a larger piece.

“Therefore.” The woman turned on the projector to reveal a map of the world, and a tiny red circle encompassing an island just East off the coast of England. “Our plan involves using the crystal to wipe out the Lost once and for all. And seeing as we haven’t yet figured out how to replicate its specific material, we’ll need to use what we have.”

She pointed a laser pointer at the projected image, circling the small island again. “With the piece in hand, Agent Satter and Agent Ciask will be tasked to rendezvous at the coordinates here and locate the nuclear fusion facilities there. The island’s natural sea defences should mean it’s fared better against the invasion. There they will be tasked to load their shard into the reactor core and then activate it. The resulting nuclear meltdown of uncontrolled fusion should by our calculations spread a thin layer of the crystal across the globe, thereby eliminating the Loss in one fell swoop.”

The resulting silence was deafening. And—Justin noted with more than a little concern—the woman seemed to be bracing herself too. A thin sheen of sweat coated her otherwise spotless skin. Despite all the eyes on her, she only looked at him as if waiting for the reality of what she was assigning them to dawn on him.

Justin remained silent, however.

“Well, better get to it then,” Simone piped up suddenly, getting up off her makeshift seat and impersonating Justin’s twirl. “World ain’t gonna save itself, eh?”

WC: 800

Hell, depending on how his powers work, the villains might appreciate him too. They don't have to pull their punches either. Instead of a hero going straight through a building, they hit a glass window and instead of the kinetic energy being absorbed as they go through wall after wall, it gets entirely consumed by the window, because the window is immune to becoming collateral damage.

Or a fire based villain willing to turn his temperature up to the point of melting steel because he knows that city won't burst into flames as long as Null is around.

Bravo, awesome!

I need a part 2, the aftermath!

Very interesting interpretation of damage mitigation. Nice job.

Basically. It's a pretty shitty lose-lose situation. Either villains know and are constantly gunning for him, or they accept the occasional losses from the common folk messing around with him and pulling stunts like what the police did in this instance. I imagine that drains on him mentally like nothing else and he's probably decently depressed and/or suicidal :/

[removed]

Is Null's role classified for his own safety?

Love it

Yep, he plays Graves.

Nice work.

“Did … did you just call the demon lord ‘an overdramatic bitch’?”, the little blue goblin looked up from his quill.

I nodded, “Yes, yes I did.”

He blinked at me, “Do you want me to relay that as spoken?”

“Yes, please.”

The goblin looked increasingly uncomfortable, “His Majesty is temperamental, perhaps it would be best if I were to paraphrase for you. For instance, ‘His Majesty’s countenance could perhaps be enhanced by –“

“He’s an overdramatic bitch,” I cut the little man off. “And I want you to tell him exactly that.”

The goblin gulped, “Pl-please wait here, ma’am.” He scurried out the back door of the room, presumably to relay my insult to His Majesty the Demon Lord of Madness.

I seated myself on the ornate couch robbed from some manor or another. It was a very old antique, original upholstery, only somewhat ruined by the demonic sigils roughly carved into the wood. Emblematic of the whole place, really. Nothing original, just slap-dash devilry on top of what could have been a perfectly respectable castle. So very gauche.

The goblin peeked back into the door, “His Majesty demands your presence ma’am,” he whimpered.

I tried hard to hold back a smile. I had passed the first test. “By all means, lead me to him.” I followed the goblin down the hall, past countless blood-tinged weapons tacked on to the wall where tapestries and portraits would normally hang. Almost all hung at an angle, off-kilter. Blood and rust mixed together to the point that it was hard to tell where one stopped and the other began. It made it look cheap rather than threatening.

We strode into the throne room where the man himself sat. He had black hair, but the strawberry-blonde roots close to his scalp revealed his true hair color. Small trickles of sweat suggested that the red streaks across his skin were probably artificial dye. A large mace lay to the left of the throne, despite the fact that he was clearly right-handed, propped up by skull that looked like it might have once belonged to a sheep, but was definitely not human. Very sloppy.

I knelt in front of him and bowed, demonstrating proper decorum even though he almost certainly couldn’t tell the difference, “I greet You Majesty.”

He glared down at me. His wrath, at least, seemed genuine, “I want you to repeat what you said to my herald in front of me, if you have the courage.”

I looked up at him, careful to keep my expression inscrutable, “Your Majesty, although you have demonstrated undeniable military prowess, you will never truly be able to rule your territory. You have the instincts of a monarch, but you are an overdramatic bitch and the only way you will ever be taken seriously as a nation is if you reform your image. You are the laughingstock of the century and even your own subjects don’t take you seriously, assuming they are out of sword-range. Sir.”

His eyes burned, “How dare you insult me to my face. I will have your head for this! You will be flayed and your body hung at the castle walls as an example for any who –“

“This is what I’m talking about!” I interrupted him, “No one flays anyone anymore. Even you have never flayed anyone. You have the trappings of a violent and malevolent demon lord but if trappings are all you have then it just makes you look like a melodramatic bitch.”

He fumed, silently, reflexively gripping the mace. I started to suspect he wasn’t strong enough to lift it.

“You have two possible paths forwards,” I pressed my advantage. “You can start to follow through on your threats. Make your malevolence more than just trappings. Kill, plunder, maraud. Perform dark rituals with actual human blood. Lean into your rule by fear.”

He sneered in a practiced motion, “How do you know I won’t start by flaying you?”

I smiled sweetly at him, “You don’t have the stomache for it.” He stared back at me, astonished. “Your other option is to reverse course. I said you have the right instincts, and you do. The first thing you do with your conquered territory is purge corrupt officials, order a census, and rewrite the tax code. Your agricultural policy is inspired. Anyone who hasn’t gotten within eyesight of the melodramatic mess you call your ‘capital’ believes you to be a competent administrator. You’ve even managed to keep the peace between the monsters and humans under your rule. If you stopped trying to be a ‘demon lord’ and focused just on being a ‘lord’ you could make this whole operation much more efficient.”

He raised an eyebrow at me, his demon lord persona slipping rapidly, “I suppose I can guess which you would prefer.”

“Yes, well, I admit I have ulterior motives. But to be frank, I’ve never seen the Hinterlands so prosperous before.”

“I’ve worked hard to create this monstrous persona. I wanted the outer kingdoms to fear me so they would leave us alone.”

“And it will be twice as much work to undo it. What you need is a very competent secretary,” I grinned at him and pulled a business card out of my bag, “and I have lots of experience.”

Wait, he was in MW2? Neat

Damn, I was looking for the subject of the prompt reading hungrily and well done!

How does that song go? "Oooooh, heaven is a place on Earth!"

Well... yeah. You're welcome.

I'm a schlub. I know it. My girlfriend is so far out of my league that it's not even funny. We work well together, though. We're a real power couple.

Yeah, yeah, sorry. I have a schlubby sense of humor, too. Dad bod, dad jokes. It's a package deal.

Angela - I kid you not, her name is literally "Angel" with a grace note at the end - comes into the TV room carrying a hot cup of my favorite tea in one hand and our combat kit in the other. The latter contains a bottle of wonderful-yet-nonaddictive painkillers (thanks, Dr. Science!) some heating pads, some scented oils, and even some little snacks to tide me over until dinner's ready. I look up at her and offer my wan smile.

"Damage report?" I ask.

She smiles back - pure love and sympathy - and shakes her head. "The Justicar and Madcap."

"Oof," I reply. "He's been to ground for ages. I'm guessing this is the big reveal?"

She nods. "Dead man's switches, graveyards, crematoriums, and insurance databases. Just enough vague anti-capitalist sentiment to get the usual mobs worked up."

I chuckle. "Why does it feel so familiar, even though I'm quite sure nobody's ever done it before?"

She sets our gear down and leans in for a kiss. I happily oblige. She smells like home and tastes like love. Since it's just you and me, I'll add that there's definitely some weird Mommy vibes too - but guess what? We're both into it.

Her superpower begins to envelop me. I'll never admit it, but it's even better than that other stuff. Any idiot should know that you never, ever, ever admit to that. Not ever.

I take a deep breath and settle in. "I love you, Angel," I tell her, and I grasp her hand meaningfully. "Not just for what we have to do. Crosswords in bed. Lunch on the deck. Barbecue with the neighbors."

"Well that last one's a total lie," she jokes. "The Hendersons always make you grumpy."

"It's just so much dog hair!" I whine. "Okay, fine, they're very polite for not bringing the mutts along to outdoor events, but it's just... it's everywhere. It should have its own pollen alert in the goddamn newspaper."

"'Newspaper,'" she echoes, shaking her head again. "You are such an old man."

"Geez, I hope not," I reply. "A young lady like you, that'd be super gross."

She's actually fifty years older than me. She looks like a college coed - and it ain't just the looks. She has to put in some effort with her makeup and wardrobe to make those Mommy vibes vibrate. Some people's superpowers have really, really obvious benefits. Some people's don't. You should be curious as to how many unsung heroes there are out there, doing their thing, day in and day out, never putting on a fancy suit or doing a press conference.

Is that a metaphor? Subtext? It probably should be, but it's not, because this is a world of superheroes.

She feeds me three pills and hands me my water glass. She maintains loving contact, and will for most of the afternoon. The oil and heating pads are for later, if it gets really bad. It will, more than likely. Madcap doesn't have amazing powers, but he's a planner. It's been three years. The Justicar can't brute-force his way through this one - though, ironically, I'm on call precisely because shit's about to explode.

I feel each one - each destructive event that should leave hundreds or thousands maimed and dead. I'm Bruce Lee. I'm like water. I do tricky judo moves on the horrific reality that barely anyone remembers even exists, and it's just enough to redirect it towards cartoons and comic books. Angela's there through it all. Her touch, her love, our combat kit, and - most especially - her superpower keep me in the game. The TV is on more out of tradition than anything else. I'm not really in a good place to absorb ego boosts. It's funny what qualifies. The newscasters are, by turns, somber or panicked. More destruction. More carnage. More rioting.

A couple slip through, always. A fair number of those deaths or injuries are meaningful - poetic, ironic, intimately connected to some major player. Cartoons and comics have a cost. No one can ever know how... specific it is. Any idiot should know you never, ever admit to that.

Angela sees a man suffering greatly to do everything he can, knowing it's never quite enough. That's mostly true. Decades ago, she had her phase. She wanted to be out there, healing the front-liners, or at least their collateral damage. To her credit, it didn't take her long after meeting me to change her tune. Then again, I do have a few very special friends willing to put in good words for me. Guys like The Justicar would never order somebody to play nursemaid, but heroes are heroes. Stories unfold. Love blossoms. Things just kind of work out.

Like I said, it's mostly true. I feel the strain. Madcap was not fucking around. The heating pads and oil come out. I disrobe and stretch out, still feeling every massive blow. Angela's working overtime, just as surely as I am. I dread the day when she starts showing the strain. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to talk about it. It's the third thing that even idiots know not to mention to the loves of their lives who are massively out of their leagues.

I have some special friends I can hash it out with. There's this one total asshole, actually, who you'd never even think... well, never mind that. It's getting close to the grand finale. Don't ask me how I know, but it's just around the time when Dr. Science and Mental Master are relaying the vital information to the front-liners. Madcap's plans will be foiled, but not trivially. He'll escape, or get caught and escape, or maybe today's the day that his luck finally runs out. That'd be nice. I'm not god; I don't get to decide that. I'm just Bruce Lee, with the hottest wife in the world. That has to be enough.

Angela keeps being a true hero long after the major disasters have been contained. Tomorrow morning we'll give each other some very heroic rewards. Tonight, she's my regular nurse, not my weird Mommy-vibe one. Tonight, she eases me out of combat mode and back to regular mode.

You know, regular mode? Did I not mention that before? Of course I didn't. I wanted to save it for the end.

We live in a world of cartoons and comic books. People with superpowers get to be superheroes and supervillains. The world doesn't end. The death count remains reasonable. The repair work happens quickly, quietly, and just about on-budget.

Civilization doesn't collapse. The massive, widespread, worldwide psychological trauma that ought to have torn it apart right along with all the superweapons and supervillains simply never materializes. Well, that's mostly true. Those supervillains do come from somewhere, after all.

Don't you remember what I said at the very beginning?

You're welcome.

I couldn’t stop thinking of the bard as scary terry, but this is amazing lol

I love this reference

That guy actually became the owner of a pmc, and recently died in a confrontation in Mexico involving some SAS and Mexican armed forces.

Thanks! Yeah I definitely considered that but couldn't make it work otherwise, ha.