Freeform Friday

..After looking through Mutaints and Masterminds and consulting a few other things i'm working on I think i have an actual point starting t oform around this business. Trouble is how to get from the simi-random to something somewhat coherent. Bare with me folks. Oh in case it isn't clear. Comments are welcome and wanted. Can't improve otherwise. Well I suppose i could but it takes awhile.




Night Watch

[5]

Max was finally freed up from the latest international snafu demanding his personal attention; potential revisions to the Geniva Conventions and lifting the ban on willfull and knowing recruitment of Metahumans. He was asked to represent US meta-interests, as Peter was 'asked' to step in as Russia's support and several other familiar faces were seen through the signatory nations. With the rise in numbers and prominance of metas across the globe there had been much talk, home and overseas, of lightening the restrictions.





Even the Meta communities were split on the issue. Some had argued that had there been a ban in the fourties everyone would be living in Nazi controlled Germania or rounded up for the work houses. Others, Peter being one of the most noteworthy voices of that crowd, pointing out the potential collateral damage in whole armies of people that could bend steel barehanded (demonstrated on stage by his disfigurment of a dummy made from the same stuff used in tank armor.)

Max spent most of his time flustered at the legaleese and almost unintellidgible wording each revision was written in. His worst moment, however, was when the american represenetives started spouting off about patriotism, honor, duty, and beingforced to sit by while thousands fight and die so people like him could sit safe and secure.

Oh how that went over is the stuff of story. Max shoved his way thorugh reporters, security (more than a few actually shooting him in the process), and anythingelse blocking the stage as if it werne't there. He saw the set to Peter's jaw and though the dwindling portion of his mind that was rational knew Peter (not ot mention his whole family) did not approve of such displays he also noted Peter was doing absolutely nothing to stop him.

"My grandfather's words!" He held the poor man by his shirt as he spoke into the small forest of microphones sprouting from the lectern. "This man tries using my grandfather's words to justify escilating even minor conflicts into country shattering wars! YOu of all people." He glowered at the cameras then at the man trembling in his grasp. "You saw what Vietnam did to my grandfather, to that whole damned country. Yet you're in favor of this.... crap?"

He set the man down and glowered at the uniforms. "Shoot me! All of you. Shoot me Now." None of the armed guards moved, guns were aimed and fingers ready but none dared fire. "Wha'ts the matter?" He pulled a flattened smear of something out of his hair and considered it for a moment. "Nine millimeter." The used-to-be bullet was held for the cameras to see. "Everyone of you in favor of this look at me."

Peter pulled something far larger than a handgun out. Everyone else ran for cover as Max looked out at the rapidly retreating crowd. "Are you watching closely?"

The anti-tank weapon bellowed. A single armor-shattering shell hit Max in the back.

When the smoke cleared and Max got back to his feet he winced as he peeled the remnents off and held it to the camers. "Imagine thousands of people just like me fighting your sons and daughters... Imagine what will happen when they have t ofight and there's nothing anybody can do to save themselves. Millitarizing the world's metahuman population will not mean the end of conventional armies, We're simply too few to hold onto whatever's gained so your children will always be at risk. Don't let these pin-heads in favor of this mess try fooling you there. Any measure that relaxes current restrictions will lead to more death and destruction, not less."

He stepped off the stage and held his arms out to the still stunned members of security. "I believe you're supposed to arrest me now." No reaction. "Fine. Peter." He motions to Peter, now smiling ever so slightly. "If you would."

A pair of handcuffs were snapped around Max's wrists and Peter escorted him out into a waiting police car. They said no words to eachother, and though the restraints were little better than wet tisue paper to Max he made no move to resist. His points had been made, both of them. Now he would pay for it.






So here was Max Justice, grandson of Commander justice, upholder of Peace and Rule of Law sitting in a featureless cell waiting trial. He made little conversation and kept to himself. Of course because he was a celebrity prisoner he was kept sepirate from the rest of the population to minimize risks of rioting.

When the appointed day came and he was led into court he pled no contest to the charges. They were minor and the fines and community servace were of no concern to him. The probation, however, was. No costumes, no leading by example on the streets for a year, plus a manditory round of anger managment courses. He'd actually misjudged quite badly on this count since though there was no forced revealing of his civilian identity he pretty much had to keep from doing the one job he was good at.

When asked by the inevetable crowd that gathered outside the curtroom he smiled, "I believe my demonstration has adiquitly driven home my point when words would have simply been ignored. As all of you can see," He held his shackled hands for the camers, "I am not above the law."

He then glanced over to one of the many guards keeping him and the crowd seperate, "Officer do you have a spare pare of cuffs?" The officer nodded, having a general idea of what was going to happen next.

Nor was this person dissapointed when Max flexed, breaking his restraints with a bare shrug and twist. When he was re-restrained one of the reporters picked up the broken cuffs and held them high. Max was about to calmly allow himself to be escorted away when he saw the car. "Everybody down!"

He shoved his way through the crowd that seemed to try reforming around him no matter that they were in harm's way. He lept forward, more of a dive really, that had him meet the front bumper of the speeding \vehicle head first. While he was strong as myth and almost impervious to most harm even he had to obay laws governing mass, inertia, and all those other things Newton had described.

Take one superhero, shove him face first into a car doing eighty and give him no real way of stopping it. What do you do? In max's case he dug his heels in, enduring shoots and jolts of pain as he did so, and twisted. He kept twisting, turning the cvar from a projectile into a spinning top, with him at it's center. He then lifted the car high as he and it spun in place until all that kenetic energy bled off enough so that he could set it down, roof first so the still-spinning wheels wouldn't start the whole thingover again.

"I'd like to go back to jail now." Max staggered to the crowd before falling face first onto the court steps. Superhuman he may be, but dizzy he still can get.
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