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Snippet #2819821

located in Atlas City, a part of Hadean: The Brave, one of the many universes on RPG.

Atlas City

Our City will rebuild! No matter what happens to us, we will continue to be on the front line of innovation, science, industry, and heroism! Remember March 12th, and remember that in Atlas City, we're helping build a better future for everyone!

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)
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The Mid-North Atlantic, off the coast of North Carolina: March 17th, 2045, 7:15am

Richard stirred bleary eyed from his sleep, his alarm having gone off and gently filled his ears with the sounds of “Beyond The Sea”, by Bobby Darin. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and gave a little smirk. “That George’s idea of a joke?” Richard muttered as he swung his legs out from under the sheets. He still felt incredibly tired, as if he had to use every muscle in his body to keep his eyes open, but otherwise he felt pretty good.

Taking a moment to change into clothes more fit for sight by the rest of the crew and ‘coworkers’, Richard settled on a plain pair of black track pants and a grey t-shirt, casual athletic, or whatever they called it. He went over to the bathroom and rinsed his face off, continuing to listen to Bobby Darin’s voice as he went about his routine.

When he took a look in the mirror, something seemed a bit off. It was a little steamy for one thing, but something seemed a little off with… Him? He felt a sense of displeasure, as if he felt like he looked particularly ugly today or something. Maybe he needed to restyle his hair or something?


“Happy we’ll be beyond the sea, and never again, I’ll go sailing.” The song picked up into its instrumental portion, where the band really comes through.

Richard was abruptly tossed to the side as an explosion of steel and fire erupted from his right hand side and sent him flying towards the door of his room. He braced himself for impact, but felt nothing hit, and nothing continued to hit for a strange period of time before he finally opened his eyes.

Now, Richard was looking downwards, limbs flailing helplessly as he plummeted into a pit of fire and rock. His eyes widened, chest tensed, and breathing quickened as he watched the bottom of the pit rush up to meet him.

“No no no no no no no no no…”


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"I met a traveler from an antique land, who said - 'Two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand in the desert…'"

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The Mid-North Atlantic, off the coast of North Carolina: March 17th, 2045, 8:00am

With a violent lurch, Richard’s body heaved upwards in his bed so that his back was at a 90 degree angle with his legs. Eyes were still wide, breathing panicked, heavy, and deep as the fire and rock began to disappear from his vision, and quickly be replaced by the familiar sights of his room on the submarine.

At about the same time that “All The Small Things” reached Richard’s ears, the pain reached his entire torso, from back to chest. He clenched his teeth and grimaced, letting out his breaths a little more steadily and pained. After a moment of trying to let the pain pass, he managed to pull himself out of bed and over to the bathroom sink. The mirror was fine, and so was he, notwithstanding the damage from his battle with the robo-assassin.

He took a second to glance over his back again, which was a tapestry of greens, purples, blues, and other ugly colors, from his shoulders to the small of his back. There HAD been worse damage, such as some fractures within ribs and such, but between some handy supers in Atlas City, and some of George’s own specialists, they’d managed to get that much in Richard fixed up.

Of course, there was nothing even the best of them could have done if it hadn’t been flung into that building. It still sent a sense of utter dread washing over him whenever he thought about that.


…………………………………………………………………………………………………..


"Good morning Atlas City! Ron Clark, back at it again to start you off right for the day! We’re all still reeling from the events of March 12th, but it’s important to remember, as they say, ‘All The Small Things’. We’re pulling it together Atlas City! Mayor Gauss, President Ford, and everyone else in our government and military, have got a plan! But while we wait to learn more, lets focus on some of the new and exciting stories we’re hearing about! But first, we have a return guest from the other day, Doctor Paul Carter, a Comanche author and Historian who has dedicated his life’s work to preserving the knowledge, language, and past of his peoples. Good to have you back Doctor! The interruption from the other day-"

"Was a great tragedy, yes. The people of Atlas City have been in my thoughts and prayers. Perhaps now seems a bad time to be discussing my life’s work, but I feel, as I’m sure many do, that these are particularly strange times we live in. History is an important tool of learning, but looking back on what has happened, we can try to anticipate what may yet happen, and, if crises arise, perhaps come to some kinds of solutions."

"Interesting, very interesting Doctor. And do you think that the events here in Atlas City connect with the Phantom Bandit? Perhaps even to the Wendigo sightings in the Great Lakes area?"

"I believe the proper name is more like ‘Windigo’ Ron, and also I need to clarify that some of these questions are gone over in my book. But no, after having met with Anishinaabe historians in both America and Canada, we both feel that neither the Phantom Bandit was a Windigo, nor are the killers in the Great Lakes area."

"If I may ask then Doctor, why is it that this was the conclusion you and your colleagues came to?"

"Firstly, our descriptions to our Anishinaabe friends and colleagues, as well as the descriptions given by several other historians from tribes in the affected area, did not match with the historical descriptions they have of Windigos. Furthermore, the behavior of what was witnessed, both by the Comanche peoples, and the peoples of the other affected areas, defied anything we had ever witnessed before, either by man or ‘monster’, as you might call it."

"So what kind of ‘affected areas’ are we talking about? And what was this ‘behavior’ like?"

"Well, we have historical accounts from the Great Plains, The Eastern California area, and even as far as Louisiana and Georgia. We’re still establishing a potential timeline of events, but we suspect he moved from the East, through the West, and then back again, as we don’t have any further leads beyond the late 1800’s. And as for his behavior, well let’s get some misconceptions out of the way. Firstly, he never traveled with a ‘posse’. This rumor comes from lawmen and the US Army at the time who couldn’t explain what he did as being the work of one man, despite many eyewitnesses, including settlers, who said otherwise. Secondly, there’s his brutality. Some depictions of the Phantom show him simply shooting up a town, and then burning it to the ground, and it’s only been in recent times that what was really going on has been discussed: He was eating his victims, the townsfolk, and then burning their bodies in horrifying pyres to reduce the evidence, and obscure the facts further. But the lawmen knew, those bodies still had the marks on them, charred as they were. ‘Animals’ and ‘buzzards’ is a common explanation, but the lawmen finished up the cremation process, burying ashes, trying to eliminate the remaining evidence it would seem. And even though they had an idea of what they were looking for, the Phantom kept up with the burnings. I think eventually, it just became… A fun habit of his."

"This is horrifying stuff Doctor Carter… I suppose what I’m curious about is why didn’t the lawmen and army take this more seriously? Why did they disregard the eyewitness accounts so much? Were there any allegations that the Comanche Peoples, or other Indigenous Peoples, were responsible for these acts? And I guess my final question, do you think this ‘Phantom’ was real, and something supernatural?"

"To your first question Ron, I suspect the answer lies in several things. Firstly, you recall Jack the Ripper? It was once said that he ‘couldn’t be an Englishman’, because no Englishman would do such a thing. I think that was part of the mentality of the law men. But, furthermore, I think they wanted a more scientific explanation, something sound and logical, that they could send a lot of men with guns after to kill. Plenty of stories were told of lawmen ‘killing him’, but it was likely random bandits and cowboys. The Phantom moved back Eastward in the late 1800’s, and simply never was seen again, for one reason or another. In terms of speculation on the Indigenous Peoples of this land, no, there were no serious allegations or investigations into that. The lawmen and army at least had an idea of our ways of life, and knew that the actions of The Phantom were not the actions of any of us. Plus, he had attacked our Peoples before as well, which is part of why we knew to keep our distance, and part of what tipped off the US Authorities that something else was responsible for the killings. And lastly Ron, no, I don’t think The Phantom was real. I know he was. This story was passed down as an eyewitness account, from one generation to the next. No embellishments were made, no facts altered. And as for being supernatural… All I can really say with certainty is that he was not natural. Neither spirit, nor monster, nor man seem to properly define what he was."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..


Richard clicked off his radio and decided to throw on his leather jacket as well as he left the room. Now was as good a time as any to go grab something to eat. As he walked down the pristine halls of the ship, he noted how sci-fi things seemed to look. It was a mixture of a clean, matte stainless steel, and crisp white paint with light blue highlights and décor. He felt somewhat at ease in it, it didn’t feel as sterile and dull as a typical science lab or office. Something with the lighting felt a little softer, more natural.

He entered the main atrium in the lower section of the ship, looking for where the mess hall would be, but ended up finding a nearby stall that was making selling breakfast sandwiches and coffee. Looked like they were using croissants for the bun? Sounded tasty enough. Richard grabbed a sandwich and coffee, and went to find a place to relax for a few minutes. He settled for just sitting on a bench on the ground level, getting a full view of the water beneath, and ahead of, the sub.

Richard’s mind drifted to the events of the other day, and how badly everything had gone. The assassin got away. There was apparently an explosion at the mansion in Sairyn’s lab, supposedly it was so bad they couldn’t even find a body. And several of their teammates had gone missing under very suspicious circumstances. It all felt just so harrowing. That was likely why George brought everyone here. To regroup and figure out a unified plan of attack.

Richard felt out of his element. He had guns and ice powers, not gravity control, or cosmic lasers, or anything like that. Sipping away at his coffee, he silently decided that even though he was clearly out of his league against things like the Beast of Decay, he still had a duty to try to protect humanity. Whatever the cost.