Lookit me, all writing things.
So I was writing up an app for a superhero RP, and there was this one bit in it in which one describes their superhero's first encounter with, well, superheroics. I wrote out Lucky Pierre's, and lo and behold, I at least thought it stood on its own rather nicely. And thus I post it here for you all to roundly mock enjoy.
It was dark. He had woken in the corner of a narrow alleyway, flung carelessly behind some empty boxes. His clothing was dirty and torn, unrecognisable rags. His whole body faintly burned, like a muscle sore after too much work.
This was all he knew.
Rising to shaky feet, he spotted something scribbled over his palm. Upon closer examination it proved to be a code of some sort, though what sort he hadn't the faintest clue. No matter. He would file it away for later; perhaps it would prove useful.
It was only a few, precious moments before he heard the scream. His first steps automatically propelled him towards the sound, nearly toppling him if it weren't for the wall he managed to lean against. He tried again. This time his feet were sure.
The source of the sound proved to be a woman, lone and frail. She clutched with weakening fingers at the handle of her purse, slowly torn from her by a man in dark glasses and a sneer. The woman screamed again.
He stood for a moment, transfixed in the shadows. A memory dashed through his head, a fleeting pipe dream of a technicolour man sweeping onto a scene just like this, fighting the robber, saving the purse. Without thinking he ran forward, emulating the memory as if on instinct.
The robber never saw it coming. One moment his prize was firm in his grasp, the next thing he knew he was halfway across the block, mouth bleeding, jaw screaming. Terror gripped him, and he turned and ran.
The other man remained in the alleyway, staring down at the hand whose blow had sent a robber flying. He barely even heard the woman's thanks, but in time managed to give her a smile and a "You shouldn't walk by yourself at night." More profuse thanks, and then he was alone.
"Well," he said to himself, a grin slowly spreading across his lips, "looks like I must be a superhero. Imagine that."
It was dark. He had woken in the corner of a narrow alleyway, flung carelessly behind some empty boxes. His clothing was dirty and torn, unrecognisable rags. His whole body faintly burned, like a muscle sore after too much work.
This was all he knew.
Rising to shaky feet, he spotted something scribbled over his palm. Upon closer examination it proved to be a code of some sort, though what sort he hadn't the faintest clue. No matter. He would file it away for later; perhaps it would prove useful.
It was only a few, precious moments before he heard the scream. His first steps automatically propelled him towards the sound, nearly toppling him if it weren't for the wall he managed to lean against. He tried again. This time his feet were sure.
The source of the sound proved to be a woman, lone and frail. She clutched with weakening fingers at the handle of her purse, slowly torn from her by a man in dark glasses and a sneer. The woman screamed again.
He stood for a moment, transfixed in the shadows. A memory dashed through his head, a fleeting pipe dream of a technicolour man sweeping onto a scene just like this, fighting the robber, saving the purse. Without thinking he ran forward, emulating the memory as if on instinct.
The robber never saw it coming. One moment his prize was firm in his grasp, the next thing he knew he was halfway across the block, mouth bleeding, jaw screaming. Terror gripped him, and he turned and ran.
The other man remained in the alleyway, staring down at the hand whose blow had sent a robber flying. He barely even heard the woman's thanks, but in time managed to give her a smile and a "You shouldn't walk by yourself at night." More profuse thanks, and then he was alone.
"Well," he said to himself, a grin slowly spreading across his lips, "looks like I must be a superhero. Imagine that."