Heroes of Tomorrow!

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Dog carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach. This city is afraid of me. I have seen it's true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout "Save us!"...

...and I'll look down, and whisper "no."

They had a choice, all of them. They could have followed in the footsteps of good men like my father, or President Truman. Decent men, who believed in a day's work for a day's pay. Instead the followed the droppings of lechers and Communists and didn't realize that the trail led over a precipice until it was too late. Don't tell me they didn't have a choice.

Now the whole world stands on the brink, staring down into bloody hell, all those liberals and intellectuals and smooth-talkers... and all of a sudden, nobody can think of anything to say...

...


Jack Taylor awoke in his penthouse suite to a beautiful sunny day in Empire City. Like always, Jack's hair was perfect, his teeth were sparkling white, and he slept fine. Like always, except for one thing.

Jack ran out of luck yesterday.

He dreaded it, in his nightmares. Dreams from his past life haunted him. Poverty, violence, sadness, death. That was all he knew until IT happened. The day everything changed. Jack Taylor became the luckiest man overnight. He stayed lucky for years... until yesterday.

In the back of his mind, next to the nightmares that plague his sleep, Jack knew what happened. His luck was running out. He wasn't meant to spend his life abusing this gift.

...

"Lucky Jack, Lucky Jack Taylor. Sounds like a damn fine superhero name." Jack said to himself as he walked briskly through the crowded streets of Empire City. He nervously patted his back pocket where a chrome plated 9mm was strapped.
"Oh who the fuck am I kidding? I've never saved anyone in my life. Hell, I don't think I ever got in a fight and won."

Jack stopped by a street corner and began eying up a beautiful brunette reading the Empire City Times.
"Well, that was before I was lucky." Jack said as he strolled over to the brunette.

"Hey beautiful, what are you doing here all alon-"*BOOM* He was interrupted by a gunshot from nearby.

Nathan walked into a early morning gentlemen club with a short balding man at his side, staying in the corner and waiting for the man to tell him who it was.

"Over there" he pointed to a well dressed man in a suit siting in a private booth with four very dressed down woman all around him.

Nathan walked over and tried to get into the booth but was stopped by a 8ft tall bouncer.

"Sorry little man, only people with appointments can see the Doctor" The man laughed at his own joke.

"Don't worry, I have one" Nathan replied, the joke lost on him

"Look get out of here before I have to crush you and scrape you off the floor"

"What does he want" The doctor said from his seat while getting a lap dance from one of the woman.

"I am here on behalf of Lyle" Nathan replied with a straight face.

The doctor and the two body guards started to laugh.

"What are you a cop, get the hell out of here, there's nothing tying me to Lyle"

"Yeah there is, he was your money man, only he got greedy and started shaving some off the top."

"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, HOW THE HELL YOU KNOW THAT"

"Lyle just told me"

The doctor looked at him then started laughing his body guards joining in.

"Barny get this nut job out of here, talking to a dead man"

"Will do boss"

As he walked over to Nathan he went to grab him by the scruff of his jacket and was rewarded with a palm to his throat. As the other body guard went for his gun Nathan snapped his leg and broke his arm taking the colt 1911 from him and firing at another person who had emerged from the back room armed with a MP5; as nearly every person grabbed a gun and started taking pot shots at him, he then ran and dived out of the window smashing it and rolling to a stop on the street.

Casually sipping his gin and tonic, inside the well lit club, the billionare playboy known only as The Saint leaned against a wall, talking up several skanky whores. He was the talk of the town recently, having amassed a VERY sizeable fortune while comatose. He was a well know playboy, and the leader of the vigilante PMC that guarded the city, The Saints. As he skillfully worded his way into the whores nether regions, his groove was interupted by several gunshots.

Making sure HE was not the recipient of the wounds, The Saint reached into his coat, drawing his silver plated S&W Model 686. Rushing outside, he saw a man wearing a trenchcoat dive out of a building, dodging gunfire. Smiling, The Saint cocked the hammer on his gun, and yelled, "Alright, BITCHES! Tha Saint is 'bout to cap the bitch-ass bastards who be interupting My game!"

With that statment, The Saint opened fire.

"Hey Vinny, I think something's going on at the strip club over there. People are running out.", Jane Doe said, laying on her cold metallic table.

"There's always something going on at those gentlemen clubs. They're dens of hell. May God be rid of them.", Vinny shouted bitterly.

Jane cringed, but allowed Vinny to have his angry senior moment. She was much older than him, by dozens of years.

"Go grab a weapon. Kick their asses.", Jane said, egging him on. "Go show those city boys what a war hardened veteran can do."

"I will!", Vinny said, grabbing his cane. "Those city slackers won't know what the hell hit them!"

And thus, Vinny charged out of the mortuary and into the street where a couple people were shooting at each other.

"WHAT THE HELL-", Vinny shouted before taking two in the chest.

Gunfire filled the street as most of the common folk scattered.

The brunette Jack was sitting next to screamed and ran as a bullet ricocheted right over her head.

A man in a trenchcoat flew out of a window, rolled, turned, and fired a gun back into the window he came from, all in one movement. Dozens of armed men and scantily clad women ran out of the building, which Jack deduced to be a strip club.

"Jesus Chirst!" Jack said, "Here's my chance to be a hero... just which guys are the good guys?"

A gangster looking dude ran into the fray, holding a silver looking gun sideways, hood style. He started firing at the guys targeting Mr. Trenchcoat, who after emptying his clip, flipped back up and jumped on a fat man with a shotgun.

Jack calmly began to walk forward. It took him years, but he finally put complete confidence into his natural luck ability. Bullets whizzed past him, as he walked into the center of the street only to see a wrinkly old man stomp out into the battle.

"Oh shit! Gramps! Get out of here!"
Jack ran right up to the crazy old bag and was about to carry him off when two bullets from a strip club bouncer slammed into the old guys chest, knocking him over.

"Now I know who the bad guys are, you pieces of shit!"
Jack yelled, swinging his arm around with his 9mm. He didn't even bother aiming before squeezing the trigger.

The bullet bounced off a fire-hydrant, went through a wooden crate and cut a chain holding a large billboard advertising PepCo Soda above the strip club. The massive sign swung downward, landing on top of 3 bouncers, crushing them instantly.

Laughing, The Saint walked over to the old man lying on the street, and said to the man kneeling next to him, "DAMN Son! That was the best fuckin' shot I seen all week! You can't compete with me, though. Names The Saint. hold on a sec." Looking at the bouncer desperatly trying to reload his mp5, The Saint fired once, hitting the fat man square in the forehead.

Looking down, TS replied solemly "Damn... Old bitch got capped."

Nathan spun around as the man he was latched onto spun around trying to shake him off, the man stopped and went to back himself into a wall in an attempt to crush him, but before he did Nathan kicked out the mans leg and with the leverage he got, snapped the mans head clean around.

Only problem with that was that the mans dead weight fell on him. Knowing he could not get him off him he grabbed a nearby MP5 and started firing at the people who ran out of the club.

"Help, some one get this fucker off me"

He did not know who he was yelling to but he saw a few people join him in shoot the other people before the fat man fell on him.

Jane stayed inside, until the gunfire stopped. Peeking outside, she saw Vinny laying dead with what looked like....Tom Cruise and a pimp.

".......this fucker off me" Jen heard as she walked outside. She fidgeted nervuosly as she walked her pale self outside.

Sirens wailed in the a few streets over, but Jane's main concern was Vinny. She ran to him, but he was already sitting up and cursing everything he could.

Walking over the the trenchcoat dude, The Saint heaved the fat corpse off of him, helping him up as well. Just as he was about to make a snide comment, however, The Saint heard faint sirens in the distance. "Aw, shit! Put your Pieces away, the fuzz are here! C'mon, lets get outta here. I don't wanna break outta jail again." Motioning towards the puzzled group, the Saint removed a set of keys from some pocket of his suit. He pressed the base of the largest key, and nearby, a faint chirping was heard.

Out of the alley, a midnight black Escalade rolled up, casually stopping in front of The Saint.

Nathan paused, torn between living to fight another day and getting the job done. He then met at the crossroads, deciding to only look into the window and fire a two second burst, and it found its way to the doctors heart.

He then ran over to the Escalade firing a few more times into the other people trying to kill them before ripping open the back door and climbing in and rolling down the window to fire out of it.

Black and white cars slid sideways onto Main street, taking out a fruit stand in the process.

"Vinny! Move~!", Jane shouted, running back towards the mortuary.

"Where is she going?", Vinny asked, but he knew the answer.

A green 1945 ford rolled swerved dangerously out of an alley, sliding sideways but stopping exactly far enough for the door to open for Vinny.

The old man jumped onto his car, and gave a very agrivated look at Jane.

"So that's where my keys went.", he said as Jane stomped on the gas.

With bullets whizzing around their heads and police cruisers screaming into the middle of the street, the men jumped in the car.

Jack was hyperventilating next to the trenchcoat wearing dude who kept firing back down the street. In the distance, Jack could see an older looking car screech to a stop right beside the dead old man who Jack couldn't save. Just as they sped off Jack though he saw the dead gramps sit up.

"The fuck..." Jack whispered, blinking his eyes in disbelief.

The trenchcoat man kept shooting down the street that was almost in the distance.

"J-j-just COOL it man!" Jack stammered to him. " Fuck, fuck, what the fuck just happened?!"

"Chill the fuck out, homie." a voice from the front of the car responded from the guy who called himself, The Saint.

Vinny pulled the broken shell off his chest. All that remained was a slight bruise where the bullet hit, but that would heal soon with time. He held it up to the light. It was a hollow point, 9mm caliber, and silver-ish. Some sort of hyper round built for maximum penetration.

Except when it hit him, and it became a hundred mile an hour kick to the gut. His chest hurt. He was hungry and gassy.

"Stop at the pharmacy, I don't think I picked up my pills.", Vinny said, reaching out and adjusting the side mirror to his whim. When he was done it exploded, having been shot off by the police.

"They.....shot my car...", Vinny said in little more than a whisper.

"You haven't used it since you bought it in '68, what all is in here anyway?", Jane asked. "I hear things rattling in the back."

Vinny took a quick look around the back seat, and pulled out his old Tommy Gun.

"Ah! That's where this went.", Vinny whispered to himself. With a casual motion he sat in the window and started firing.

The phone rang, as it often did.

Still quite nude, Tristan leaped out of the shower and dove for said phone.

"Deathblade," Shouted Dougal McDonald, the chief of police, "Get your ass down to Main Street! People are dying all over the place!"

"Will do~" Tristan sang into the phone, before hanging it up. He then pressed the unlabeled purple button on his answering machine.

And he fell through a hole in the floor.

...

Landing on the Deathtrampoline in the Deathcave, Tristan flipped off of it and landed on the Deathcycle, somehow fully clothed in his Deathcostume, which happened to be completely purple. His Deathswords were strapped in the shape of an X across his back.

He was no longer Tristan. He was Deathblade.

"Time to kick some ass!" Deathblade laughed, revving the engines loudly. Half an instant later, he took off at a speed that would blow a lesser man clean off of the bike. Thus, he barreled through the streets, with the warm August air bombarding his eyes. He seriously need to consider investing in some Deathgoggles.

In a matter of minutes, Main Street swung into view. Deathblade could already hear the gunshots, and the screams of the dying.

Preparing to execute his signature entrance, Deathblade let go of the handlebars, drew his blades, and jumped up on the seat, crouched in his best war-pose.

However, as he prepared to backflip off of the bike, something unexpected happened.

"Armadillo!!!" Deathblade shouted, but he had noticed it far too late. What happened next was a high-speed blur of pain and destruction. Deathblade was launched into the air as the motorcycle went into a death roll. Flipping and twisting, he held his arms out to help break his inevitable fall.

And break it did.

Both of his hands.

Clean off.

He hit the road going in excess of 200 miles per hour, and at a crazy angle to boot. Despite all of the Deathmilk he drank every day, his bones simply were not strong enough to stave off the force of the impact. Really, it's a miracle he survived at all. However, Squiggles-the-Armadillo was not so lucky.

But that was something for him to worry about when he woke up. For now, he was just a bleeding purple sack of torn flesh in the middle of the road, with a burning, twisted wreck just behind him.

Nathan sat in the seat till they passed the SUV passed a garbage can.

"Hold on a set"

Before the car even stopped he popped out the door and ran to the can, garbing a bag he stored in it and was back in. He then proceed to take a number of guns out of it and place them at places on his body.

"So, who the hell are you guys, why did you all come running when the shooting started"

The saint cocked his head at the Trenchcoat man, then said, "Yo bitch, I THOUGHT I was savin' you're Matrix rip off ass from gettin' capped! Don't be hatin' on Me! By the way, names The Saint."

Before he could continue onto his lengthy introdution, a small explosion was heard about a block away, followed by a purple and red blur flying past them, harshly landing a hundred feet away.

Something skidded to a painful looking stop a few feet away from the car.

"What was that? Something's hurt! Turn around Jane!", Vinny shouted.

"But-!", Jane tried to say.

"NOW!", Vinny shouted, reloading the gun. Using the time Jane spend swerving in a wild 'U' turn, Vinny found a couple of some fishing line, a needle, a towel and a bottle of vicodin.

Jane swerved to a stop. With a quickness he never knew he had, he leapt out of the car and onto.....the thing he was trying to save.

"AGH!", it shouted before Vinny opened the vicodin and poured the bottle into his mouth.

"Sorry about that.", Vinny said, and he went to work. He did the medical thing where he did medical stuff as best he could.

"Freeze! Put your hands in the air!", someone shouted over a megaphone. "Get away from Deathblade!"

Vinny ignored them, and finished stopping the bleeding. He was an handless man now, but Vinny grabbed him nonetheless.

"Jane! The trunk!"

The trunk popped open, and in the handless Deathblade went. And the car sped off, with Jane driving, Vinny listening to old Elvis tracks over the radio, and an handless man overdosing on painkillers rolled around in the trunk with another body Vinny forgot.

"You should be thanking us for saving your life, dude!" Jack yelled at the man.

There was no response as the explosion went off.

The escalade blew past the wreckage where a familiar old style car screeched to a stop.

Quickly turning around and looking out the back window, Jack clearly saw the old man from earlier throw a heap of something into his car.

"No... Impossible..." Jack said aloud, "Hey, Saint, turn around and follow that car!"

Grinning, The Saint asked the blond guy, "Hey, You want me to shoot out that piece of craps wheels? Or you just wanna follow 'em?"

Not waiting for an answer, The Saint flipped a switch on the dashboard, did a skidding U-turn, and flipped another switch. The black escalade shot forward, fueled by a healthy shot of NO2. Laughing like a maniac, The Saint crashed through a fruit stand, sending the angry shop owner sprawling. In front of him was the ugly green car, behind him, two Police cars. Grinning, The Saint said, "Ya'll should look back, to see what happens."

The Saint idly pressed a small icon on the steering wheel, pouring a black, oily substance out of the rear of the SUV, sending the pursuing vehicles off of their trail.

"An oil slick?", Vinny asked, moving to adjust the side mirror but forgets that it was shot off. He leans out the window in a youthful, reckless fashion, what little hair he has left flowing in the wind.

The car pulled up close and flashed their brights.

"I think they want us to stop.", Jane said.

"Go ahead and pull over.", Vinny replied. "We and they need to talk."

Deathblade suddenly woke up, and immediately wished he hadn't.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!" He screamed, curling up in pain.

"My... My hands!! What happened to my hands!!" He half shouted, half growled, instinctively rubbing his bloody handless knobs against his face in confusion. However, that made the agony worse. He gnashed his teeth together, attempting to take the pain away through force of will. It didn't work. He started to cry.

Somewhere inside his own private hell, he realized he was in a dark, cramped space, with something cold and soft underneath him.

"Help! Heeeeeelp!!!" He shouted, kicking and beating at the walls. However, nobody came to render assistance.

Deathblade's day was ruined.

As the cars both pulled to the stop, Nathan started getting fidgety; as much as he was great full for the back up the people gave them, they where drawing to much attention. As they slowed down, four heavily armored cars rolled down the block with markings of the now dead doctor gang.

"Shit, tell them where to go if you want to, I will buy you a minute or two"

He then pushed the car door open and proceed to fire a P90 from a kneeling position at the people who attempted to get out of them. All that got him was two body's to drop and the rest to get behind the bullet proof hulks and start firing blindly down the street.

"Hurry up, and does any one have any thing heavier to blow those tanks up"

"Armoured cars? What next?", Vinny shouted for no reason. "Will that armless man be able to wield swords too?"

He loaded the Tommy gun with another clip and started firing wildly at the four oncoming cars. Jane moved sliently along the wall, unnoticed, while Vinny provided a distraction.

With a crash Jane brust into one of the cars. Screams of agony were immediately silenced, and the car stopped rolling.

The Saint took one look at the oncoming cars, and said, "Those Bitches aint got enough? Fine. I'm gonna pull out tha MUTHAFUCKIN FIREPOWER now!"

With that, The saint reached into the backseat, opened the seat, and took out a RPG-7. Smiling, The Saint crouched down, aimed, and fired. The rocket flew forward, then collided with the lead truck, reducing it to a charred wreck with a loud explosion. That charred carcass then flew into the second lead car, carreneing it into a building.

The Saint put away his toy, drew his magnum, and said, "Now THATS how you fuckin' do it!"