A Scripta

I introduced this thread on the Futura Force boards, based on StarWyng's statement "It's about the people." We play the game and have these little dramas - and we forget the big picture.

I hope with this thread to explore the point of view of our heroes from the perception of the civilians they're sworn to protect.

Michelle watched the man sitting alone in the diner's booth sat absently stirring his coffee, staring out into space. His white hair made him look old. He had a deep voice with a local accent, so she knew he was from around here. Tall, broad, with dark blue eyes - he reminded her of one of her friends, Derek, who was planning on entering the military.

"Shelly," whispered her friend Pam, "I bet he's one of those heroes."

"What's he doing here? Wouldn't he be over in Atlas Park with the rest of them?"

"I see them around. I saw one taking out a gang of those slugs near Falls Ave." Pam sucked on her teeth. "He's old. He's probably looking to retire here."

Michelle attended to another customer's coffee, walked by and saw that the man's cup was empty. She poured some in, while he still stirred. He shook his head for a moment and focused on the cup, the coffee pot, then her. "Oh, sorry. Daydreaming."

"It's okay, it's still early." She left some creamers on the table. "Are you from around here, sir?"

"Huh? Founders'? No. I'm originally from IP." He smiled at her. "I've come into some money, so figured I'd tool around here for a while."

She smiled back - he's cute, even if he is old. "It's nice here. Except for the slugs and the men-in-black."

"Slugs?"

"Those aliens." She bent over to peek out the window to look for them, but didn't see any.

"Rikti?"

"Yeah, I think that's what they're called. They have guns and other ugly things in armor."

"Slugs. All right." He chuckled. "And the men-in-black must be Crey."

"The Countess says they're for our benefit, but, sometimes... Like Lee - " she thumbed toward the kitchen - "there was some of those military guys that shook Lee down on the way to the bank last week, and there was a bunch of those men-in-black right near there, and they just watched. One of them scanned Lee with a machine and he hasn't been right since."

"Hasn't been right how?"

She bent over and whispered. "He used to sing when he cooked, but he doesn't anymore."

He absently stirred his coffee again, thinking, and she realized when she was dismissed. She went to another customer, while Lee came out from the back to join her and Pam, since it had slowed down.

Lee and a customer at the end started talking about the Bruins when a gang of Crey walked in. The hum of the tank's machinery, and the crackle of electricity followed them. Lee watched them warily.

"What can I get you?" asked Pam, her voice a little higher than usual.

The men-in-black fanned out in silence, while the tank stepped forward. "It is understood," said the tank in a modulated mechanical voice, "that Mr. Kernagan has a genome that the Countess would find useful."

"Hey, I never gave you people my DNA."

"No, you did not."

Michelle glanced around the diner. The four customers were not built for fighting, in fact, one threw money on the counter and ran out the door. Pam still forced her smile, "Wouldn't you guys want a cup of coffee?"

Lee roared, "Takin' my DNA without my permission is against the law."

The tank shrugged slightly. "Will you come with us."

"No." He folded his arms across his chest.

The men-in-black started converging on him.

"The man said no."

Michelle's heart leapt as they all turned to the area of the voice, the man still sitting in the booth, still stirring his coffee cup. Everyone froze.

The Crey tank walked toward the booth. "And who are you? His grandfather?"

Michelle could see the man in the booth as he looked up at the tank. He was shaking his head. "The shock of hair always misleads everyone, thanks Jack."

The tank folded his arms, but Michelle could hear him power up as he did so. "Even if you stop us, you cannot be here forever."

"True." He slid out of the booth, and the tank allowed him. "But it can be reported that you've threatened him, he'll be allowed protection, and you guys might have to go through a cordon of Longbow - or better - to get at him." He gave the tank a feral smile. "He makes damn good pancakes and I wouldn't want to lose him." Then the white-haired man turned to look at Lee. "You don't mind that I'm stepping in here?"

Lee waved his hand, "No, no, I don't mind."

"Good." The white haired man walked over to Lee, pointedly avoiding the two men-in-black that attempted to block his way to the door. "I would suggest that we take this outside. There's an awful lot of glass to break in here."

"That's right," the tank said. They heard a building hum, and the tank pointed at the coffee pots. One minute the white haired man was standing next to one of the customers, the next he was taking the exploding burst of energy that the tank meant to use against the coffee pots.

"Get out!" The white-haired man commanded, while Michelle stood there, dumbfounded. All the Crey pulled out guns - the rest of the customers ran. One gun was purple, and the woman-in-black grinned in glee as she shot at the white haired man floating in front of the coffee pots.

Whatever came out of the purple gun slammed the white-haired man back into the coffee pots, shattering them all and making him slump against the glass and twisted metal. "Q-gun," he moaned. The Crey woman advanced, and then got thrown back as Michelle saw black spots appear on the woman's pristine white shirt.

The shotgun blast deafened everyone, and Lee was standing in the corner, sweeping the gun around. Meanwhile, the white-haired man streaked by her and slammed fully into the woman with the gun. The gun went one way, the woman the other. The gun skidded to a stop a few inches from her.

"Get the gun!" Lee yelled, as three Crey disarmed him.

The white-haired man turned from the woman, jumped over the counter and tore two Crey off Lee, throwing them aside like they were garbage. Lee landed a haymaker on one, and then the tank aimed to shoot at Lee.

Michelle aimed the gun at the tank but couldn't feel a trigger. She looked under the gun to find it, and the gun went off, blowing a hole in the ceiling. Meanwhile, the white-haired man took the shot aimed at Lee, and went full-bore at the tank. Michelle aimed at the tank and shot, but it went wide and took out the window instead. Michelle focused to see the white-haired man pull his hands out of the torso of the tank.

"Oh dammit," he muttered, as the Crey tank disappeared; its life signs had dipped to zero, and it automatically was teleported back to Crey labs. Blood dripped from his hands onto the white linoleum floor. The three remaining men-in-black took one look at the man dripping blood and ran over themselves to get out the door.

Lee went in the back and came out with a large towel. "Pam, Shelly, we better clean this up."

"I'll help you. I made some of it."

Michelle started to approach the white-haired man. She held the gun out to him but he flinched. "No, better give it to Mr. Kernagan."

"Lee," he said, taking the gun from Michelle. "And Shelly, remind me to never let you use a gun again."

The white-haired man chuckled and finished wiping his hands. "Got a mop and bucket?"

"You stay right there, mister - what's your name, anyway?"

"Which one? My hero one or my real one?"

"Either."

"Masonry's my hero name."

"I've heard of you," said Pam suddenly.

Masonry turned to her, a smile crossing his face but he looked worried. "Good, I hope."

She looked away. "I read you were in jail for murder."

"Yes, I was."

"So you're clear?"

"No. I'm actually out on bail."

The two waitresses looked at each other, but Lee took the towel from Masonry. "That's okay, Masonry. My brother was in the pen for a couple of years, but he deserved it. He's just fine now, working security at Wentworth's."

"What did he do?"

Lee grinned. "Forged checks."

A customer peeked into the shattered window. "Hey, Lee. Somebody broke your window."

Michelle blushed, and Masonry burst out laughing.