Magical Sailor Fuku

Eon City. A gleaming bastion of progress and hope. Its towering scyscrapers glisten in the sun, shadowed only by the errant caped figure speeding through the skyways. These brave souls, the supers dedicating their lives to preserving the peace, keep the light of progress shining through the darkest of nights.

At least, that's what people would like to think.

It's all a pretty picture to the ordinary citizen, but the bureaucracy of keeping track of all of these super-powered individuals is anything but. While starry-eyed children may dream of one day punching meteors out of orbit, the vast majority of supers are little more than blue collar workers and beat cops. While their abilities may technically be super-human, it is a truly rare occurrence for someone to have the power to rise above the rest of the chaff. It is in this grim reality, the dark cloud inside of the silver lining of super powered humanity, that The Organization began to flourish.

Originally founded to counter the rise in insufferable heroes, The Organization has long left its overt ways to more subtly control the balance of power in Eon city. The common folk may be uneasy about some shadowy council of villains in their fair city, but for the last twenty years there has been peace. The more disruptive villains seem to break their bonds less often, and return to them much sooner. The overly vigilant heroes always seem to have someone deserving to fight, rather than scaring poor jaywalkers. Even though no one outwardly admits it... there are some that feel The Organization is doing the city a better service than the mayor's office. Even so, there are still those that wish to root it out for the illegal shadow government that it is.

And then, there are people like Carson Trent who work for The Organization.

He hadn't chosen this life. He was picked up off the streets at a young age, and made into a soldier for a villain named Doctor Krank. His particular ability had made him adept at his job, being able to track a target through any barriers as long as he could get that initial line of sight. When the bad Doctor was finally removed for being too unstable, he was transferred to his current station, still a nameless henchman. But his talent has proven time and again that he can be useful, slowly and carefully tracking and eliminating targets usually reserved for the most elite of sniper assassins.

And it is one of those targets he tracks tonight. Some diplomat or businessman... he didn't care. He'd been in this game for so long, he didn't even bother learning who his targets were any more. He takes a deep breath of the sharp night air as he lines up his sights, bracing the heavy caliber rifle against the roof of the building. His one eye glows red... the same color as the outline of his target in the building across the way. He would wait until the man moved farther in... away from the windows. It would be harder for them to trace the shot that way. He takes aim, holding his breath and shouldering the rifle to make sure it won't break his collarbone... and gently squeezes the trigger.

And then there were those who opposed it. Those who belonged to the Hero Association. The Superhero Society that brought order to the order bringers. Because, of course, if left to their own devices... some over-eager vigilantes could cause as much damage as villains. So the Hero Association trained its members to show restraint... follow a code of conduct, and et cetera. In return they helped smooth over collateral damage costs, did PR management, and made sure that heroes would always have someone backing them up.

At least thats how it is in the upper grades. If your a C grade hero... your little better than a beat cop with better fashion sense. C grades flow in and out of the organization all the time. Some chewn up and spit out, others finding their place. Knowing they'd never be the ones on headlines... lifting trucks or punching out dinosaurs. It was such a fate for Alex Armstrong, AKA Confident Fist. Though most people knew him as 'that guy'. He sighs, glancing down at his T-shirt with a fist logo. A black mask bandanna wrapped around his head. One that had caused enough trouble, he had "HERO" stitched into the back of his shirt, like someone would have "STAFF" or "JANITOR". He certainly felt like a janitor. It was hard to keep up confidence when he always got the short end of the stick. And to make matters worse, confidence was what powered his abilities.

Take now for instance. Purse snatchers. Why would you even? In a city like this... Half of the time he thinks its just them trying to get attention. To maybe see a big name hero. Its not like he could hurt them too bad for a petty infraction. You get really stern talking to by the H.A. if you did something like that. But still. It was something he could do, so he'd do it. And the lady would thank him at least, right? A smile reaches his face at that thought. Thats what really mattered... As he bent to it, a sudden blast of speed as his confidence rose, and he chases after the snatcher.

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His rifle barks out a sharp thump. Muffled by the silencer, it was more like the sound of someone dropping a heavy book than the sharp crack of a rifle. His target crumples... his tracking eye going still. That was another successful elimination. There is a crackle... and a cool feminine voice speaks into his ear. "Completion of mission acknowledged. Extraction pod landing on the roof in one minute. Please make your way there." Crystal Heart was one of the lieutenants of The Emperor. Who was certainly alot more stable than his last employer. Not to mention he had a much better sense of style...

Alex feels the rush of wind that accompanies the burst of confidence and speed, quickly approaching the snatcher. He looks back, eyes going wide as he notices he has a pursuer. He puts a little more push to his step and grabs hold of a nearby lamppost... a strange suction cup sound popping as he makes a sickening 90 degree turn using the post as an anchor, darting off in the new direction. He's lost a little speed doing so... and if his confidence keeps up, Alex may get him yet!


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Heh. The Emperor definitely had better style. That weird lab coat getup he used to have was kind of bonkers. Now, Carson felt more like a professional, like he was going somewhere. He breaks down his rifle and puts it back in the cello case. He slings it behind his back with the strap and makes his way across the roof to the extraction point. Even calling it an extraction point... so much more professional and put together.

Alex hrms... and keeps it up! This might be a bit more than the 'usual' snatcher... perhaps this day would be more productive than he thought. He smiles and dashes forwards... feet pounding on the concrete as he intends to close the distance.

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Indeed. His uniform now was a simple suit and tie with an E emblazoned onto the breast pocket. Except for the Lieutenants, who all seemed to wear different outfits. Not that he minded... the girls, while professional themselves, were all really lookers. And the tight, revealing outfits they wore were quite easy on the eyes.

He makes his way to the rooftop, as sure enough... from the sky he hears a crackling roar and humm... dust kicking up around as a small one person jet pod de-cloaks in front of him. The hatch hissing and opening to reveal a padded chair with safety harness.

The purse snatcher might have sticky fingers that help him take corners, but Alex's drive gives him the speed to catch up and tackle him to the ground. The guy yelps and skids against the concrete sidewalk. Once down, he groans and the popping noise goes off again. Now it's not just his hands, but his arms and face as well. "Okay, you got me... but good luck taking me in, boy scout." He snickers. The man isn't just stuck to the pavement... where Alex is touching his bare skin he seems to be stuck as well!

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Carson smirks to himself as he sets the cello case into a set of hooks on the inside of the door before strapping himself in and shutting himself inside. His boss definitely has good taste, that's for sure. He leans his head back and waits for the jolt of takeoff.

Alex grumbles... and goes to get to his knees and tug the man up. Raising an eyebrow as he seems to be stuck. "Your just making this harder on yourself." He frowns.

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The pod's doors close... there is a shimmer, almost like a heat off of asphault on a hot day, indicating the stealth field had gone up. Then a low humm as the city vanishes beneath him. His ride flies off into the sky... correcting course. After what is perhaps an hour or so, the pod ducks into a cloud bank... up ahead the massive shape of the flying fortress castle hovers, wrapped in its cloud generators. Pointy spires generating interference waves to make it undetectable to sensors. The pod zooms up and into a tube. Docking firmly.

Outside he sees... Crystal Heart herself! Despite her usual cool demeanor she looks oddly... miffed? About something. Had he messed up? "Welcome back, Agent 24. Stow your equipment and make yourself presentable. The Emperor wishes to see you."

The man has the two of them firmly planted to the ground due to his stickyness... although, as Alex tries to push himself up, he can feel a little bit of give in the stickiness. If he can push hard enough, he should be able to pry the two of them loose... or at least, pull the man off of the sidewalk. As they struggle, some of the passersby stop to look. "Oh, hey. Isn't it... that guy?" "Yeah, I think I've seen him before. Isn't he that Jackhammer Justice guy?" "No, no. He's got to be Tank Top Tiger." "Are you kidding? Tank Top Tiger wears a tank top!" "Oh yeah..."


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Carson hesitates at the strange reception. It isn't normal for Crystal Heart to debrief one of the henchmen on a normal mission like this... so something has to be up. He responds to his number, taking the cello case and depositing it on a nearby hovercart. "What's the problem? I thought my mission was successful." He straightens his tie and plucks his sunglasses from his jacket pocket, putting them on to hide the off color of his one eye.

Alex frowns... he won't be shown up by some weird sticky guy... he'll show the passerby that he is a real hero! Summoning grit and determination, he huphs! Straining his muscles to haul up the perp!

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Indeed... its not normal at all. At his question, she frowns and crosses her arms. "Did I make myself unclear, Agent? Unless you'd rather not meet with the Master." Right, Master... that was another name for him. One only the lieutenants seemed to use. It wasn't something forced on the rank and file, as far as he could tell, it was more a sign of respect the lieutenants gave to their boss.

Alex pushes.. the sticky guy sticks... and with a monumental push, he lifts himself up... along with the purse snatcher, and a square of concrete. The onlookers all gasp and step back. A feat like this... they should remember him now, right? Heavy footsteps approach behind him, and a police officer rounds the corner. "Hoo! You two really took off there. Now, what have we... here." He sighs and pinches the bridge of his brow. "Heroes..."

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Carson shakes his head firmly. "You were very clear, ma'am. I'm ready." He tugs on his soft leather gloves, meaning to keep them on. He's seen the Emperor, or the Master as his lieutenants call him, and he intends to keep himself as distant and professional as possible... the man seeming rather aloof himself. Hopefully that would garner some amount of respect... and preserve his life if he is considering "letting him go."

Alex clears his throat. "C Grade Hero Confident Fist, officer sir. I have my hero license if you require it." He smiles in a way he hopes is disarming and memorable. "Would you like me to escort him back to the police station with you, sir? He's a bit of a... sticky one."

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Crystal Heart nods. "Good. Follow me, Agent." She turns and goes to lead him on. Despite her harshish tone, and the possible seriousness of the situation, he could certainly appreciate the sensual sway of her full hips and round, cushy rear as she leads him onwards. Past the outer, more utilitarian rings and into the inner more cushy sections. Royal carpeting, rare paintings, sculptures, and pottery (stolen, of course) and display cases of trophies from various Supers line the halls.

Eventually, past the many checkpoints... both manned and staffed with automated turrets and scanners, they stand outside the grand double doors of the Inner Sanctum, as it were. Crystal Heart folds her hands behind her back, frowning. "Go onwards. He's expecting you."

"Doesn't seem like we have much of a choice, do we?" The officer sighs, giving the would-be thief a rap on the shoulder with his baton. The guy grunts and gives the officer a forced smile. The officer reaches down with the baton and lifts up the purse, a black leather affair with patterns embossed into the leather. "I do like the fashion statement you have here. Looks like... one to two years." The guy flinches as the concrete on his back falls off, thudding heavily to the ground. "I'll cooperate, officer. I'll do service, just don't put me back in the klink, okay?"

As the officer and the sticky thief have their tiff, Alex notices someone walking through the crowd. Rather than edging through like some of the other people, people make way for... her. A woman in red saunters up to the scene, reaching for the bag. "Oh, my. Looks like a big, strong hero found my purse. I'm ever so grateful..." She purrs as her eyes fixate on Alex. The sticky thief flops to his feet with the sound of velcro being ripped off... only to be handcuffed by the officer.

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Carson has no issue following the beautiful woman through the expansive fortress, his eyes wandering her form as she sashays in front of him. The Emperor knows how to pick 'em, he thinks to himself. He clears his throat when she stops and looks ahead at the large doors. He gives her a nod and pushes them open, stepping inside and swallowing down his anxiety. He can't show fear, that would be the end of him.

Alex nods. It seems like he wasn't needed anymore for this. "Just make sure you put me in the report, officer." He says, before looking over to the lady. He smiles again, glancing over her for a moment. "My pleasure, ma'am." She was certainly something...

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Up ahead, sitting on a throne of golden metal and red leather cushions... surrounded by holographic viewscreens displaying data from who knows how many places... is the man himself. His staff rests across his lap... its said he had a disintegration ray built into the gem... and who knows what else.

The various screens flicker off as Carson approaches... and the man brings his hands together... steepling his fingers. "Agent Twenty-Four. Thank you for coming so quickly. Have a seat." He nods, as a hatch in the floor near the throne opens up, a chair rising up and setting into place. "I've called you here for a very important reason..." He speaks with a cool, even tone. His expression steely, but thats how he's always been. Impeccably dressed, extremely resourceful, and about as transparent as a brick wall.

The officer mentions something about destruction of property before he starts carrying the thief away. But that seems to be in the background as the lady gives Alex a small, enigmatic smile. Every motion she makes seems calculated to accent her curves as much as possible... making it difficult to look away even if he wanted to. "Oh, I'm sure. A strong hero such as yourself, little things like this must be child's play." That stung a little... since this really was the only kind of work he'd been able to pick up lately. "Would you mind walking me back to my apartment? After all that, I'm not sure I want to walk the streets alone." Her voice is like a feather being drawn against silk. Soft, and yet, he has no trouble hearing her velvet tone.

====================

Carson approaches the chair. "Of course, sir. I will not fail you." He stands in front of the chair, gives the elegant man a salute, and takes the seat. Gingerly. He keeps his weight in his legs as much as he can without being obvious... just in case.

Alex nearly winces at that. Yeah... the sticky bandit isn't exactly going to make headlines any time soon. But as his view is captivated by this curvy woman... he finds himself wondering if today was a bust after all. "Ah, of course not, miss. It would be a pleasure to walk you home." And probably of more value than the patrol he'd do otherwise. After all... petty or not, the snatcher will have filled his quota for the week.

======================

The man chuckles. "Oh please do relax. I know the stereotype, but I in fact very rarely execute anyone. And never anyone with use. And you have been useful. Oh yes..." A screen flickers back to life... listing various statistics. Reading it backwards, he could make out a list of his missions. "You've done everything asked of you quickly, competently, and... most important... professionally. I admire that in an employee. After all, if we are to rise above the stigma and preconceptions foisted upon us by society, we must display a certain level of decorum." He tugs the collar of his suit into place idly.

"With that all said... there is room yet for improvement. I see potential in you... You only require the right motivations to realize it. And perhaps... the right equipment. Which brings us back to why I've asked you here."

"Strong, and kind too. My, are all heroes as nice as you?" She lets out a coy giggle as she heads down the sidewalk away from the crowd. Is she... flirting with him? It's one thing for her to move the way she moves... for her body to be so beautifully fluid. But the way she talks, the way her eyes seem to light up as she looks at him... Maybe he has a chance? If so, this could be worlds better than patrol! But what could he do to impress her?

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Carson blinks. Motivation? Equipment? "I'm not sure I follow, sir. The rifle you've assigned to me is the best I've seen in years. Do you want me to go through more training?" That... might not be so bad. At least in training, he wouldn't have the risk of running into one of the many would be heroes in the city.