Incarnates, Leagues, & Marvels 3 (Patreon)

[center]<<Siobhan Hanrahan, “Sadistic Light”>>[/center]

Looking around as I pushed my speed, moving faster than the human eye could track out of the park I’d landed in, I pursed my lips in consideration as I examined the surrounding city. At a glance, I could tell that the blast hadn’t sent me back to Praetoria, the architecture didn’t have the iconic white and gold that nearly everything piece of architecture from my birth Earth did. But I didn’t have enough experience with Primal Earth to rule out being sent back to the time period I’d originally arrived in.

Still, the odds were low. Even if this was the same world, there were too many differences. Minor things that added together to make a larger picture. But it still felt like I was missing more than half the pieces of a puzzle.

So, I needed information. A swiped newspaper from a stand in front of what was once a fire station (though the dirty, faded sign above with a cartoon ghost was quite odd) let me start reading up on what the locals considered front page news. A group of local scientists from a facility called the Baxter Building was making a trip into space, there was some sort of EMP explosion in some other city, but there was one thing in particular that caught my attention for its noticeable lack.

There was no mention of heroes. Or villains. In fact, nothing I was reading mentioned so much as a hint of the sort of thing that would have garnered the attention of Powers Division back in Praetoria! I was starting to wonder if this world even had powered individuals like both Praetoria and Primal Earth. Did Cole not find the Well of the Furies in this timeline? Was this a world where Pandora’s Box remained closed?

Sighing, I tossed aside the newspaper, I had some answers, but more questions. I needed more information, and it was light enough that I should be able to find a public library. This Earth from what I’d seen was more similar to Primal Earth, so it seemed a safe bet that it’d have one. The idea of repositories of information just freely available for anyone to enter had been one of the biggest culture shocks I’d experienced when I left Praetoria for Primal Earth.

Getting directions was simple enough, just bat my eyes at men and they couldn’t give directions to the nearest library fast enough. Once there, I grabbed a selection of history books and started reading.

I soon determined that I was not in a variant timeline of Primal Earth. The first appearance of what could be considered a powered individual, though from the descriptions I had a feeling they were simply a skilled individual, was in the late eighteen eighties in a city called Gotham. This ‘Batman’ had appeared in some form or another in the city to the present day roughly a hundred twenty years later. Most likely part of a family legacy.

There was an individual called Wonder Woman in World War One, then a man called Captain America and his Howling Commandos in World War Two, and a company focused on hunting ghosts in the Eighties, but by and large it seemed that this Earth barely had any powered individuals. Which, I supposed, made sense. With no Well of the Furies, and no Pandora’s Box, the unbridled potential of humanity remained locked away.

Pushing the latest book away, I let out a breath and pinched the bridge of my nose. I needed to start my life over on a new Earth, again, and this time I couldn’t take advantage of an organization like Arachnos for the initial adjustment. First step: Get a supply of funds.

Any city this large certainly had criminal groups with large supplies of drugs and other illegal goods that could then be used to make a profit. I’d procured funds for myself multiple times in the past, so it wouldn’t be too difficult. Once that was done, I'd trawl through the underbelly to find someone who could produce a legal identity for me.

In the end, nearly all metropolises were the same, and I soon found a group that seemed relatively analogous to gangs like the Skulls and Hellions. Only instead of wearing bones on their faces or having demonic sigils tattooed on their bodies, they all had a purple insignia of a stylized dragon somewhere on their clothes. They were in an alleyway with an armored van, in the midst of approaching…

I raised an eyebrow at the group of four that were surrounded by the gangsters. I had to be honest, after everything I’d read so far today, I wasn’t expecting to see fifteen odd punk thugs facing off against four humanoid turtles armed with Japanese Edo period melee weapons. Watching the two groups fight, I felt a little bit like I was watching one of the low security level heroes fighting a group of Hellions in Atlas Park.

Still, there was a key difference. These gangsters would be slaughtered by a similarly sized group of even initiate Hellions. I’d bet money on a group of Hellions half the number of these buffoons. But, in the meantime, whilst all were distracted, I made my way to the open doors of the armored van and looked inside. A few duffle bags were all that were inside, that a quick inspection confirmed were all full of bills.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doin, bitch?!” one of the gangsters shouted.

I didn’t bother answering, not verbally anyway. Instead, as I slung the duffle bags over my right shoulder, I pointed at the voice with my left and let loose with a weak energy burst. Of course, what was a weak blast from me was still enough to cause the fragile, mundane human’s head to burst apart like a corpse that had been left out in the sun for a week.

A swift departure with super speed ensured that I wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore, and I could set about finding someone to fashion an identity for myself.

[center]<<Jordan Brown, “Street Wretch”>>[/center]

Finding myself in the middle of a city after the hell that was Ouroboros was a very pleasant surprise. I’d honestly expected to finally find myself dead, Lord knows I’d had too fucking many brushes with the reaper over the years. Now, the real question was figuring out where the hell I was. I didn't recognize any of the buildings or anything, so there was the very real possibility that the blast at Ouroboros had dropped us all off on a whole different world. 

Dammit, I never wanted to be part of this hero shit! I was a fucking hobo who happened to be in the wrong place when Galaxy City got fucked! Five years and too much shit I shouldn’t have survived later, and I had some magic Ancient Greece water all but crammed down my throat.

Shaking my head, I slipped into the alleyways, letting the manhole cover I used as a shield slip into the freaky hidden space it did when I didn’t use it. Used to be I’d have to carry it everywhere, which was part of what made people start assuming I was a hero (because who the fuck else would be punching the shit out of giant space goo monsters with a manhole cover on his arm), but that had changed upon becoming one of those Incarnate thingies.

I still didn't really know what the hell an Incarnate was, or how it differed from a hero, but whatever. I just wanted to get the hell away from the weirdoes in colorful costumes, and try to pretend the last five years hadn’t happened. 

A few minutes after getting my senses straightened out and I learned where exactly I’d arrived: Harlem, in New York City. I’d barely ever left Paragon City in Rhode Island, never mind a place that made my hometown look small. Still, the hobos of mondo big cities were more or less the same: scared, angry, and ready to stab each other for a half decent meal.

I knew how to play this game, and so after a bit of digging found a group that could put me up. The leader was an older guy, with a bushy gray beard and a face that was so weather beaten it was a miracle he hadn't died of frostbite. The sort that the rest of the homeless community looked at and immediately knew would be a hard ass.

His name was Rufus, and he gave me a good look over, before giving a nod, and saying, “Welcome to the club, kid. We don't ask for your story, but we expect everyone to pull their weight. No freeloaders, no slackers, and no bitching. If you can't deal with that, then move on and keep moving.”

I nodded, “I’ve worked for worse. Just show me what to do and I'll do it.”

What followed was several odd jobs around the city, while I mostly kept my head down and did my best to not get involved in anything major. It was almost a routine, a few days into the arrangement that I heard gunshots and screams coming from an alleyway not far from where a group of the guys had gone.

Cursing, I sprinted towards the sounds and found that the men had gotten themselves mixed up with some gang, the latter of whom were currently beating the shit out of them. The sight had me seeing red, and without even thinking I pulled the manhole cover from its hiding place and threw it straight into the center of the group of thugs. Almost before it slammed into a thug swinging a bike chain, I was in the midst of them.

My fist slammed into the jaw of one thug, my manhole cover bouncing off another and flying back at me. I slid my left arm into the rungs I’d added to the back, using the momentum from it to put me into a spin. The manhole cover was brought between my face and a plunging bowie knife, my leg coming up as part of my spin to kick the man that tried to blindside me in the side of his knee.

The knee buckled, a loud snap echoing through the alley as the leg bent at an angle a human knee shouldn't. He fell with a scream, and the manhole cover came flying off my arm to bounce off a dumpster and come right back. The weapon hit the man behind him hard enough to knock him out, before returning to my arm as the other gangsters fled.

Turning back to the others, I let out a breath and helped the guys up, "Everyone alright?"

One of them, a black kid who looked to be at least six years younger than I was, rubbed his head, “Yeah. Fuck, I didn't think you had that kind of punch, Jordan. That was badass.”

“I'm a big believer in equal opportunity ass kicking,” I replied dryly.

I turned back to the street and let out a breath. The guys were looking at me funny. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they were thinking.

“I would greatly appreciate it if none of you guys mention this. To anyone,” I said, giving all of them a hard look. I wouldn’t actually do anything to them, but given how they got a glimpse at how brutal I was in a fight, it gave my words a bit of an intimidating edge to them that they wouldn’t have an hour before.

After a moment, the kid spoke up, “Sure, no problem. Uh, hey, why don't you join us for a drink? The others are probably worried, and it'll be a good chance to meet everyone.”

I raised an eyebrow, before nodding slowly. Maybe this wasn’t the best city to disappear in. After all, I hadn't done too good a job of keeping a low profile. The kid rambled for a bit, leading me to a place with a sign over the top that read ‘FEAST’ in big bold letters.