Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Jack and Hero Corps 1
10:59 AM | Posted by
Warwriter Widow
June, 1995.
The man known as Powerhouse Jack sat in the air conditioned confines of Hero Corps, Mexico City. His Spanish was virtually non-existent, so he was lucky to be able to get here in the first place.
He waited for his interview for a job here. He had seen Luminary and, being that he was already a hero-for-hire with Freedom Incorporated, decided that the time of being stuck as the “big, dumb ox” was over. At Freedom Inc., he was a glorified strongman, going all across the world to end strikes or put the fear of God into some governments. His last stint in Yugoslavia, watching the dissolution of that state into smaller states, like Croatia and Bosnia, turned him away from heroing and more into rescuing. He did not want to find himself involved in that kind of a bloody conflict, where he didn’t know the sides.
“Good morning, Mr. Simon,” said a man coming up on his right side. He put down the magazine and looked up to see a man, who couldn’t have been older than late 20’s, standing at the door. “If you’ll come with me?”
Jack followed the young man quietly. If he was a hero, he thought, I think I’ll give up.
“Please be seated,” he said, letting him into a spacious office that overlooked the southern side of the city. No one sat at the desk, which was unusual to him. The young man left him without watching him sit down.
Jack sighed, went over to the window. He glanced at the desk, and stopped, seeing a folder with his name on it. It looked about half an inch thick. Jack was curious, but decided against looking at it. Instead he continued on to the window, looking outside. He heard the door open but didn’t turn around.
“Ah, Mr. Simon.”
Jack turned around to face a different man, this one with glasses and a beard, who smiled broadly and approached him.
He felt Lodestar’s presence strongly for a moment, and the man’s smile wavered just slightly. Now Jack smiled. “Get out of my head, mister,” he said quietly.
“Hm, you have a way to block me,” the man said. “That’s interesting and useful.”
“It’s also rude what you’re doing.”
“Nothing more than trying to put you at ease, Mr. Simon.”
Lodestar felt like a man leaning over him, his presence was that palatable. It did not feel very safe. “I was at ease until you tried invading my mind.”
“Please, I won’t do it again. Please, sit down.”
“What’s your name?” Jack demanded, moving to the seat across the desk.
“Jimmy McDaniel. I’m called Psylink.”
Jack only hmpfed at him as he sat down.
“We’ve looked over your resume, Mr. Simon. We can’t rightly tell if you’re a mutant or something else.”
“I am not a mutant, so I must be something else.”
“Something is keeping you young, because it says here you were with the Sand Kings, and we did find a Powerhouse Jack in that group.”
“You don’t believe I’m the same person?”
“Well,” laughed McDaniel, “It is rather hard to believe.”
“I see.” Jack got up from his chair. “You’re worse than the Phalanx. At least with Freedom Inc I don’t have to be interviewed by a sniveling, untrusting group of kids like you. I was at least given the respect I deserved.”
McDaniel said, “And you will.”
“Bullshit,” snapped Jack. “If you can’t trust me enough that you need to rifle through my mind, then I don’t need to be here.”
“Sir, wait!”
Jack had his hand on the door. Lodestar still sat on his shoulder like a cat. Jack crushed the handle of the door in his hand. “You’re too young to know,” he retorted, and yanked hard on the door. It came off its hinges, and Jack threw it into the room, where it landed on a spacious couch.
The man known as Powerhouse Jack sat in the air conditioned confines of Hero Corps, Mexico City. His Spanish was virtually non-existent, so he was lucky to be able to get here in the first place.
He waited for his interview for a job here. He had seen Luminary and, being that he was already a hero-for-hire with Freedom Incorporated, decided that the time of being stuck as the “big, dumb ox” was over. At Freedom Inc., he was a glorified strongman, going all across the world to end strikes or put the fear of God into some governments. His last stint in Yugoslavia, watching the dissolution of that state into smaller states, like Croatia and Bosnia, turned him away from heroing and more into rescuing. He did not want to find himself involved in that kind of a bloody conflict, where he didn’t know the sides.
“Good morning, Mr. Simon,” said a man coming up on his right side. He put down the magazine and looked up to see a man, who couldn’t have been older than late 20’s, standing at the door. “If you’ll come with me?”
Jack followed the young man quietly. If he was a hero, he thought, I think I’ll give up.
“Please be seated,” he said, letting him into a spacious office that overlooked the southern side of the city. No one sat at the desk, which was unusual to him. The young man left him without watching him sit down.
Jack sighed, went over to the window. He glanced at the desk, and stopped, seeing a folder with his name on it. It looked about half an inch thick. Jack was curious, but decided against looking at it. Instead he continued on to the window, looking outside. He heard the door open but didn’t turn around.
“Ah, Mr. Simon.”
Jack turned around to face a different man, this one with glasses and a beard, who smiled broadly and approached him.
He felt Lodestar’s presence strongly for a moment, and the man’s smile wavered just slightly. Now Jack smiled. “Get out of my head, mister,” he said quietly.
“Hm, you have a way to block me,” the man said. “That’s interesting and useful.”
“It’s also rude what you’re doing.”
“Nothing more than trying to put you at ease, Mr. Simon.”
Lodestar felt like a man leaning over him, his presence was that palatable. It did not feel very safe. “I was at ease until you tried invading my mind.”
“Please, I won’t do it again. Please, sit down.”
“What’s your name?” Jack demanded, moving to the seat across the desk.
“Jimmy McDaniel. I’m called Psylink.”
Jack only hmpfed at him as he sat down.
“We’ve looked over your resume, Mr. Simon. We can’t rightly tell if you’re a mutant or something else.”
“I am not a mutant, so I must be something else.”
“Something is keeping you young, because it says here you were with the Sand Kings, and we did find a Powerhouse Jack in that group.”
“You don’t believe I’m the same person?”
“Well,” laughed McDaniel, “It is rather hard to believe.”
“I see.” Jack got up from his chair. “You’re worse than the Phalanx. At least with Freedom Inc I don’t have to be interviewed by a sniveling, untrusting group of kids like you. I was at least given the respect I deserved.”
McDaniel said, “And you will.”
“Bullshit,” snapped Jack. “If you can’t trust me enough that you need to rifle through my mind, then I don’t need to be here.”
“Sir, wait!”
Jack had his hand on the door. Lodestar still sat on his shoulder like a cat. Jack crushed the handle of the door in his hand. “You’re too young to know,” he retorted, and yanked hard on the door. It came off its hinges, and Jack threw it into the room, where it landed on a spacious couch.
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