The Guardians - Issue 5: Who Needs a Hero Part 2

The News

A newscast, Nancy Loeb for WFRP On the Point News:

"Here we are, at the scene of a terrifying crime: As you can see, behind me is a wrecked police cruiser, but the damage is certainly out of the ordinary - it's been twisted brutally by someone or something incredibly strong. Officer Jason Falz, seen here in this department file photo with his family, is inside that wrecked cruiser; medics are attempting to extract him with the jaws of life, as you can see behind me.

Witnesses say that Officer Falz was patrolling here, at Torsney Playground, when he was set upon. This area is well known for drug and gang activity. Witnesses say that three or four youths, their faces covered by bandannas, obstructed the patrol car's path, and when the officer instructed them to move, they attacked. Several of the witnesses say that the attackers had extrahuman abilities, though the accounts vary.

We'll stay on top of any further developments in this story. Nancy Loeb, WFRP On the Point News."

On Youtube

The sound is an angry burst of static, the abrasion of a hand against the recording camera's built-in microphone. The image wheels around from a view of an urban streetscape to frame a man of indeterminite age. He wears a hooded streetwear jacket, sunglasses, and a bandanna to conceal his facial features. The man is obviously holding the camera; he swings it above his head, so that his arm obscures the right corner of the image, in an effort to better display himself and several other similarly-dressed figures behind him.

When he speaks, his voice is distorted; most likely deliberately, by software. The voice rattles off a collection of modern black patois:

"New Immortals video on the real, coming straight. We up in here, doing what we do," the man holding the camera says. "This is, uh, motherfuckin Xerxes and shit, about to flip the script on they Spartan motherfuckers." This draws considerable laughter from the speaker's companions, though through the distortion it sounds harsh and alien. "This is motherfucking Zeus on the real, about to get motherfuckin hands-ON," with enthusiasm, "on this motherfuckin, where we at again dog?" The man looks back, and he must loose his concentration on the camera, as it pitches wildly, the hand holding it dropping unceremoniously.

"Torsney, man," a voice says.

The camera jerks again, moving back to a similar position as before. "Oh, shit, that's right, man, we up in motherfucking Torsney and we about to DO this bitch," the man says. By this time, it is apparent even through the bassy voice program that the man speaking must be young, less than 20.

"They up in, man," says one of the background figures, pointing out of the camera's field of view.

"Ho, yeah," says the primary speaker. The camera follows the pointing, revealing a police cruiser, searchlight on, rolling up the street, full of menace. The camera begins to jog erratically; the man filming must be moving.

The metallic tones of a PA system: "This park is closed at dark. Please disperse." The voice is untouched by the distortion software - this must be the police cruiser.

"Keep it locked, man, to hear our manifesto and shit," says the man holding the camera, his voice ragged as he runs. The image is still moving wildly, though the cruiser drifts crazily in and out of the field of view. It is getting closer. "But what you need to know is that we up in here with some New Immortals shit, and we ain't taking nothing from fucking NYPD."

With that, there's a thud against the camera's mic, and the image spins too quickly to make any sense of it. Perhaps Xerxes/Zeus has thrown the camera. In the background, past the sound of wind rushing past the microphone, is the the screech of steel being bent violently against its will.

Another thud, a jerk, and a sickening corkscrew of the image, and the camera is again stable. From this new vantage point the original speaker is entirely visible; his streetwear hoodie lacks sleeves, exposing lean, probably teenage arms ; his arms are wrapped in what resemble fighting wraps or bandages; his sneakers are immaculately kept patent-leather Bapes. His feet are spread wide, and his hands are cast apart. In front of him, the police cruiser is hovering in the air, twisting of its own volition. It is impossible to hear the screams of the officer inside above the reluctant scream of the car's body as it is warped. A closer look, and through the video's compression artifacts, the air around the hooligan (for he must be that) is visibly shaking.

The man looks over his shoulder, hollering in victory, but the sound is rendered indistinct against the wind and cacaphony of tortured metal. The new cameraman, one of the compatriots, wheels the camera around, his face spinning into view.

"What it do," he says.

The image goes black, and the related videos start to fade in.

Epilogs

1

The doctor looked deliberately over the crushed body, his eyes lingering at sites of obvious carnage: the ribs, the collar, the right arm. He sighed contentedly. This would be possible.

In the corner of the sterilized room, out of the sharp light of the overhead lamp, a young man sat, looking on. He was shrouded in shadow, but his voice was clear.

"You gonna do something about this?" he asked.

"We can rebuild him," said the doctor, in a faint accent. "We have the technology."

2

In contrast to the other videos posted by the NewImmortals user account, this video lacks narration, shout-outs, or any other sort of speaking. It is simply the filmed collapse of a building, recognizable to any who have spent time near Torsney park.