literature

META

Deviation Actions

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Literature Text

SEP. 11, 2001 ANTIQUA, RHODE ISLAND 9:28AM
The scene is a small suburban town, population 2,784.  A fifteen car pile up has the local authorities are attempting to control the situation.
Enter Hank Everyman also known as the town hero The Good Samaritan. Literally leaping to action he asks; “What can I do to help?”
“We have most of the civilians safely out but there is somebody trapped underneath a car!” A fireman replies.
Just as he finishes the sentence a nearby vehicle explodes and set the vehicle with the trapped person on fire.
“It’s going to blow! Get down!” Yelled out another fireman.
Hank was built like a star quarterback and the good looks of any cliché blond hair, blue eyed, square jawed super hero.  Hank was a gifted individual for his greater than human strength, speed, and reflexes. With another great leap he cleared the nearly thirty feet distance between him and the enflamed vehicle. He immediately ducked down to grip the upturned vehicles rooftop and with a short grunt he used his immense strength to haul up and toss the car at twelve feet in the air. Unfortunately he was too late before he could reach down and grab the victim the car exploded. The shock wave of the blast threw Hank back some fifteen feet and the shrapnel tore him up something good. Covered in soot, a few cuts and bruises Hank was no worse for wear and managed to slowly get back to his feet. The ringing drowned out all other noises but his vision was starting to focus what he, what everyone saw shocked them.
The victim stood in the middle of the aftermath completely unharmed.

A few hours later the tragic events of 9/11 garnered all the attention of the media nearly obscuring this event completely.

MAY 29, 2007 ZEPHYRHILLS, KANSAS 10:00AM
Genetic research, technological development, and pharmaceutical company CHRONODYNE.
“So we’re giving the go ahead with project: SUPER MASCOT. Honestly couldn’t we have thought up a better name!?” Asked business CEO Michel Brayman.
“Unfortunately the writers who were working on the promotion material joined the Writer’s Guild Strike before they came up with a final title. “ Replied a Jr. CEO Greg Dents.
“Jesus! What could they want!? Never mind, we’ll deal with it later. Anyways, so who are the candidates?” Brayman inquired.
“Well because we are horribly late to this game, all the good Meta-Humans have been hired by other companies or recruited by the military. What we do have are a bunch of bargain-bin heroes. One however came to us. His name is Chris Connors, we were lucky to even find him. Apparently he was in the middle of a fifteen car pile up in some backwoods town in Rhode Island. There was little media coverage due to the fact that a few hours later terrorists crashed a plane into the World Trade Center. What was published was in a local tabloid and centered around the town hero: The Good Samaritan. We were originally going to hire him but he was already picked up by the government but when we heard that a kid was hit by that many cars and then blown up; somehow managed to get up and walk away unscathed. We had to find him.” Informed Chairman Synthia Thorn.

Then stepped in a mundane young man who was obviously nervous.  He was short, a lot shorter than anyone expected. At only five feet and eight inches he was a full three inches shorter than the female chairman that brought him in. He had dirty brown hair, dull brown eyes and sported a listless almost depressed expression.
Before anyone could say anything Ms. Thorn produced a 9mm Berretta hand pistol, turned the gun at the young man and shot him in the chest at point-blank.
As loud bang from the pistol had the rest of the committee jumping in their chairs, the fact that she shot him had everyone gasp.
Connors slammed into the ground with a loud thud.

“SON OF A BITCH!!! That hurt! You could have told me you were going to do that before!” Declared the unassuming young man, shocking the committee yet again.
“Sorry Connors but if you looked prepared it would have been as convincing.” Ms. Thorn trying to justify her actions as Connors pulled off the still hot lead slug plastered to his chest.
The committee was abuzz as they passed ideas back and forth amongst themselves.
Finally after much deliberation they unanimously asked: “Who else do we have?”

NOV. 12, 2007 TAWALOO, MICHIGAN 11:45PM
The small fishing village of Tawaloo, usually busy with this time of year is unusually quite… No not just quite, it’s desolate. The eerie silence is shattered by gun shots and the sound of violence. “I got it!” Yelled out an adolescent male.  “Say the damn spell already!” Screamed out a severely aggravated adolescent female in response.
The Situation: Daniel Winter Fosters is the fourteen year old son of eccentric professor of anthropology and folklore Dr. Murray Fosters, discovered a cursed skull that raised the dead and annihilated the town of Tawaloo.

“Zacharia, noma destu, locazi shiranu!” Yelled young Daniel.  
The skull floated up from the palms of his hands and let out a shock wave of iridescent green energy.
“Did you make that up!? We’re going to die aren’t we?” Asked Dan’s frightened sister Lola.
The zombie horde that had relentlessly pursued them thus far had stopped a few feet short of their intended victims.
“Maybe” replied Dan. “I wonder why they aren’t trying to devour our flesh or keeling over?” Dan continued.
As he finished  those words the skull slammed into Dan’s chest and fused to his rib cage.
“Dan are you alright!” Screamed Lola with deep concern. “That was weird? Yeah, I feel fine. We have to find a way out of here.” He answered.
With those words a group of zombies shuffled around and made a pass through the mass of walking dead.
Action packed opening to my sci-fi comedy super hero screenplay. With the writers strike maybe I could get a movie deal? Yeah right!
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