2021.10.19 05:08 CosmicSoulstorm2 I am being bullied by a Christian man on a carnivore diet (I am an atheist)
This is my alt account my main is CosmicSoulstorm and I am being bullied by wwe online trolls. One of them Thatdudedoesnotabide has said I am a troll that people should ignore. I think this is wrong. I just want to be an angry atheist alone and in peace.
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2021.10.19 05:08 Environmental_Cod158 What brand is the hoodie?
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2021.10.19 05:08 f1r57bl00d8000 titans revenge ft
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2021.10.19 05:08 Ok-Room-7243 Girl I’ve been seeing is going out of town for two weeks
This girl (20) I’ve (22) been seeing for about a month and a half ( exclusive but not bf gf) is going back to the town she use to go to college ( few states away) to grab some things and see her friends . Things have been going well, hanging out 2-3 times a week, fun dates, fun nights just hanging at my apartment, sex is awesome and we have tons of fun together, and both of us have verbally expressed feelings in person multiple times. Shes leaving in a few days and don’t want the distance to mess anything up but also feel like it will be a good test for us. Just being paranoid that she’ll meet up with one of her college flings and do something bad. What’s y’all opinions on the situation?
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2021.10.19 05:08 CLBHos [WP] You're the most powerful superhero around, so why are you in the F-tier? Because F-tier is cleanup. Other supers protect the world from threats. You protect the world from other supers.
They knew I existed in some form or another. They knew I could shut any of them down with ease.
But they didn't know what I looked like or the extent of my powers.
Many didn't even think I was human.
Many thought I was like the wrath of God in old religious texts and fables. A supernatural hand that reached down from the clouds to smite heroes when they took things too far. An invisible force that punished the powerful for their overweening ambition and hubris. The manifestation of some abstract principle, bent on maintaining order in the mortal plane.
"Another beer?" asked the waiter.
It was a dim dingy bar. I sat in the dimmest and dingiest corner, drinking, smoking, watching. I'm sure I looked like any other customer. A few days worth of stubble growing on my chin. Eyes red from the drink and insomnia. I tilted off the dregs.
"Another," I said, holding the empty glass out for the waiter to take.
I lit a smoke and let my eyes pass over the two conspirators, sitting at the end of the bar. Stretch and Bloom. A couple minor heroes playing minor parts in what was beginning to look like a major play.
A few rumours and hints, whispers and clues, had led me to them, and they had led me here. So I cut through the chatter and clinking of glasses to listen to what they were saying.
"But how do they know it will be enough?" asked Stretch.
He seemed nervous. Skeptical. I could tell by the waver in his voice. By the way he tapped his foot on the floor.
"It'll be enough," said Bloom. "More than enough. The thing boosted me two tiers."
"Two tiers?" Stretch sounded astonished, slightly incredulous.
Bloom nodded. "And that was just standing in the room with it. Imagine if I'd actually been touching the thing."
"Exactly," said Bloom. "Now imagine if one of the top heroes was touching it and there's your answer. It'll be more than enough."
"A meteorite," said Stretch. "Hard to believe."
Bloom nodded. "Sent by God, or the Devil, or extra-fucking-terrestrials, to give us the edge we need. Like anti-kryptonite. A super battery to charge us up so we can finally take the fucker down. So we can finally clean up the Cleaner and have free rein to make whatever messes we want."
"Don't you mean free rein to make the world a better place?" quipped Stretch, with a wink.
"That's right," said Bloom, sipping his drink. "A better place for us, at least. No more meeting in rundown bars to talk shop. No more looking over our shoulders, scared to say the wrong things, think the wrong thoughts. No more toeing his lines. We'll finally be free to change things. Restructure. Put everyone and everything in its proper place. High supers ruling low supers ruling the powerless. A natural hierarchy. No more of this everybody equal, democratic crock."
"But what if he finds out before the strike?" asked Stretch. He was tapping his foot again. "What if he steals the rock, or catches wind of the plan? Secrets don't stay secret long with this many people involved. And last I heard, over sixty supers from across the continent are pledged to participate."
"Who's going to tell him a thing?" asked Bloom. "Who even knows how to get ahold of the guy? They're sick of him. We're all sick of him. He don't got a single super on his side. He's all alone."
"His own fault," said Stretch.
"It sure is," agreed Bloom. "His own damn double damned fault. You want to be a faceless vigilante? Watching the watchers without leaving a fingerprint behind? You want to be a lone ranger? Accountable to no one? Then don't act surprised when you're left out of the loop. Don't act shocked when something happens that you didn't see coming." Bloom looked at his watch. "Time to jet. Let's go."
I watched Bloom polish off his liquor and Stretch extend his arm ten feet to tap the bartender on the shoulder. My waiter was walking over with my beer. He placed it on the table.
"What do I owe you?" I asked him.
"I'll be back with the bill," said the waiter.
Stretch left a tidy pile of bills on the counter and the pair stood up, put on their coats.
"Fuck the bill," I said. "Roughly. Roughly what do I owe you?"
They were heading toward the door. I didn't want to lose them. This was more information than I'd gathered in the last few weeks, since I'd first caught wind that something was afoot. I needed to hear the rest of their conversation. I needed to know the who, the what, the where and the when.
Not the why, though. The why was perfectly clear. They wanted me out of the picture.
". . .and then you had the amber ale," continued the waiter, "which was on sale during happy hour. But was it still happy hour when you ordered it? I can't remember. I'd really have to check the bill for that. And then. . ."
Stretch and Bloom were opening the door and stepping through it. I pulled five twenties from my wallet and threw them on the table. I grabbed my overcoat and shouldered past the waiter while he kept rambling, pulled my coat on as I marched to the door.
Outside it was as dark as the city gets--with low clouds rolling overhead, pouring rain. The fat drops splashed in a ceaseless staccato on the wet black pavement which reflected at intervals the orange haloes of hunched street lamps. Black water rushed through the gutters like filthy streams feeding filthier rivers beneath a filthy city.
The whole country, grimed with a filth no amount of rain could wash away.
I looked for the pair to the left, to the right. The tall and lanky Stretch alongside the stout and corpulent Bloom would cut recognizable silhouettes upon the sidewalk. But I couldn't see them. I couldn't sense them either, which meant they had gone quite far in the last few moments.
Had they sensed me, watching them in the bar? Was that why they rushed out of my range? Or had some third super been waiting outside for them, ready to fly or teleport them off?
I shook my head and went over what I'd heard. A plot involving a meteor that boosted the powers of supers. Sixty or more in cahoots. A plot to take over. . .what? The city? The country? The world?
A plot to clean up the Cleaner. A plot to kill me.
- - -
I opened the door to my apartment and quietly closed it behind me. I did not turn on the lights. I could see just as well in the dark.
I took off my shoes and padded softly in my sock feet. I could have hovered to eliminate the footfalls entirely. But I didn't need her knowing I could hover. It was better to keep it close to my chest.
"Sam?" she called sleepily.
I had tried to undress in silence but clearly she'd heard something. Or sensed something. Women's intuition. I could see her clearly in the pitch-black bedroom, rolling over in bed, resting her head on her hand, scanning the dark. I could hear the rain pelting the balcony.
"Sam? Is that you?"
Lisa yawned. "What time is it?"
"Time for bed," I said.
I padded over and pulled back the covers, crawled inside. She was warm. She smelled nice.
Lightning flashed through the cracks in the curtains as she pawed around for my face, leaned over and kissed my cheek.
She inhaled slowly, deliberately. She wasn't the only one with a scent. I guessed mine was a bit boozy. "Where were you?"
Not a question: an accusation.
"Stargazing," I lied.
"Watching for meteors," I said.
Thunder cracked and rolled through the room.
"Stargazing during a storm?" she asked. "What about the clouds?"
I wasn't much for giving straight answers. To her or to anyone else. She knew what I wanted her to know. She saw what I wanted her to see. I revealed little. Only bits and pieces at a time. And I always mixed the truth with misdirection, sometimes even with a dose of outright lies.
As far as Lisa knew, I was a travelling salesman, or a bartender, or an FBI agent. As far as Lisa knew, I had lived in the city my whole life, or had only moved here two months ago, from Texas, or Canada, or Peru. As far as Lisa knew, the only power I had was the ability to see in the dark.
As well as the power to talk circles around the truth.
She wasn't the first pretty girl I'd drawn into my bullshit; she wouldn't be the last. But we'd only been dating a month, and she'd only been staying overnight for a week. There was still plenty of time before she'd reach the same conclusion all the others had reached eventually: that there was no way to draw a straight answer from my lips. No way to make me loosen my tongue. No way to have a normal transparent gig with a guy like me.
Then she'd leave to find someone who wasn't a cagey prick and I'd go charm the next girl and start over. Always wanting, trying, yet being too god damned haunted--unwilling or unable to make a thing last.
God, I was sick of it.
"Lisa," I said.
"Look at the curtains."
She raised her head and gazed at them. Slowly, the dark curtains parted, giving us a bedside view of the inky black clouds rolling above the glittering skyline.
"Telekinesis?" she said. "I. . .You never told me. You just said you could see in the dark. Sam. There's so much I don't know about you. Why don't you tell me these things?"
A jagged bolt of lightning tore through the centre of the city.
"What do you think I'm doing?" I said. "I'm telling you right now."
- - -
Too many questions. Too much bullshit. I would never be able to sleep. So I snuck out of bed and into my clothes and made it to the bedroom door. All without waking her. I turned the handle.
"Going for a cigarette," I said.
"A couple cigarettes and a stroll in the rain," I said. "I'll be back."
"I was dreaming," she hummed.
"Sounds nice," I said.
"It was," she said. "It was a nice dream. It was autumn and we were in the mountains. You and I. It was a clear day and we were flying around, in the air, but it wasn't cold. We were flying above the mountains. Everything was red and orange and gold. All the leaves. But I guess the mountain trees don't have leave. But I guess that's dreams. And then. . .Sam?"
"Can you fly?" she asked. "I only ask because, well, I didn't know about the telekinesis until you opened the curtains, and. . .I guess it must bother you that I don't have any powers."
"It doesn't," I said.
"But it must!" she insisted.
"Nah," I said. "Powers bother me. People with powers bother me. It's fussing over magic tricks."
"But wouldn't you like it if I could--"
"I don't date girls with powers," I said.
"Really?" she asked. "You don't?"
"Did you ever?"
"Once," I said. "It didn't work out. I'll be back in a while. Get some sleep."
- - -
I hovered high above the city, smoking a cigarette. Rain bounced off the transparent field surrounding my body. The low black clouds rolled against my back. Veins of lightning flickered, flared.
We never had storms like this. I suspected the Drencher was responsible. But what would Seattle's storm-maker be doing here, in this shit hole, conjuring all this rain? Was he one of the sixty supers Bloom had mentioned? Was their plan already in motion? Or was I being paranoid?
You scared of the lightning? I goaded myself. You scared of a little rain? You made of sugar? Gunna melt? That it?
The clouds cracked and the rumble hummed in my bones. I hauled one final drag and flicked the butt away. Then I scanned the streets far below, the buildings, the cars: trying to focus, to see. If this meteorite were somewhere in the city, and even half as powerful as Bloom had claimed, I should have been able to sense it.
Yet I couldn't. I couldn't sense any abnormal signatures. I could hardly sense anything at all.
Usually I saw supers from this height like so many patches of heat through an infrared camera. The more powerful the super, the brighter the glow. Usually I could see all the thousands of supers, scattered throughout this city of millions, like so many auras. Supers sleeping in their apartments, driving their cars, flying through the air.
But tonight there were far fewer auras than usual, and the ones I could see were dim. Was something wrong with me? Were my senses diminished? Was that why I hadn't been able to track Stretch and Bloom outside the bar?
Or were the powers of everyone else diminished, and that's why I couldn't see their energies?
Too many questions. Too much bullshit. I would never be able to sleep.
- - -
"Just because you can't sleep doesn't mean the rest of us need to suffer with you!"
The cranky old man stood in the doorway, scowling out at me. I hovered above the second-floor balcony of his small country home, beneath the eaves.
The old man wore threadbare pyjamas. The few wisps of grey hair left on his head were splayed out and staticky. He looked like he hadn't slept more than eight hours in the last two decades. Even more exhausted than me.
"Your bedroom light was on," I said, softly touching down on the balcony. "I tapped on the window very lightly. If you were sleeping you wouldn't have heard it."
"You pounded on the window," the old man grumbled. "I thought you would shatter the damn pane!"
"You couldn't have been sleeping."
"I was out like a light," the old man insisted. "Like a log! Like the dead!"
"You weren't asleep."
The old man glared at me through red-rimmed eyes. Finally he shook his head in resignation. "You bloody pest," he said. "I wasn't asleep. The family curse. Come in, son. Come in." I followed him into the room. "And close the damned door! It's draughty!"
As I closed the door I heated and all the rainwater steamed from my clothes. I was dry. Dad sat on the foot of his bed and glowered. "Well?"
The room was clean and tidy, albeit Spartan in furnishings and adornments. He had lived here, by himself, for ten years. Yet aside from a few framed photos on his dresser, the room was devoid of any personal touches. As if he expected he'd have to pack up and leave at a moment's notice, as he'd done so many times before.
"You look good," I lied.
"I look like a corpse," he said. "I feel like a corpse. And god willing, I'll be one soon. But that's enough pleasantries. To what do I owe the privilege? It's not every day a man's only child condescends to visit him. I haven't heard from you in a year."
"A precaution," I said.
"Right," he scoffed.
"I need to talk something out," I said. "Who else can I trust?"
"You can trust me to sell you out at the earliest convenience!" he cried.
I smiled. "You haven't yet, old man."
"Maybe I'm waiting for the right offer," he replied. "Ah, hell. What is it, boy? Get yammering. Worst case, I listen. Best case, your droning manages to put me to sleep."
I studied the picture he kept propped upon the dresser. A beautiful young woman, immortalized in that frame. Sh never got the chance to grow old, wrinkly and tired. She had died giving birth to me.
"A group of supers are plotting to kill me," I finally said.
He sat up straighter and watched me with anxious eyes. "Explain."
So I told him what I'd heard and observed, without adding extras. No interpretations or hypotheses. Only the facts. All the while he stared, his lips pursed, breathing meditatively, until I got to the end. Then he grunted.
"The bastards," he said, shaking his head. "But they don't know it's you."
"I don't think so," I said.
"And nobody mentioned the debacle with Blonde and. . ."
"No," I said. "Sam Rawls is dead. Has been for twelve years. I'm Sam Faraday."
"Perhaps," my father said. "But if they find out that a thirty-three year old man named Sam is the uber-powerful Cleaner, it wouldn't take a genius to connect the dots."
"Twelve years," I repeated.
"Fine," he grunted "Fine. You know best. . .The bastards. Clean up the Cleaner. And a meteorite, eh? And I thought we were done with the bloody space rocks."
"So did everyone," I said.
About thirty years ago, four meteorites were discovered in the Sonoran desert. They were made of an unknown material which, scientists soon discovered, could neutralize the powers of any super who stood within a mile of them. In homage to the fictional substance from the old Superman comics, scientists dubbed the material "Kryptonite" and quickly set to collecting and studying every piece they could find.
But they didn't get to study it long; as soon as the finding was leaked to the public, supers from all over the world had a collective conniption. They lobbied to have the material classed as an "existential threat to humanity" and, within a month, every known trace of Kryptonite was seized, sealed in a rocket and launched directly into the sun. And not a grain of the stuff had been found on Earth since. Or, if it had, the people who found it had kept their discovery under wraps.
"But have you heard of anything like that?" I asked him. "Anti-Kryptonite? A material that boosts up powers?"
Dad shook his head. "No. But I don't have the friends I once did. I don't keep up with the chatter."
"Is it possible?" I asked.
"Sure, it's possible," he said. "Why not? We already know that one bloody space rock taketh away. Why couldn't another one giveth?"
I sighed. He was right. "Advice?"
"Invest in LogoCorp," the old man said.
I rolled my eyes. "Advice for dealing with this situation."
"Move to the Caribbean," he said. "Lay low while the bastards take over the world. Then join up with them later and show off your powers. Maybe they'll make you king."
"I don't know," he growled. "Find the fucking thing. Wait till none of 'em are around it. Then get ahold of it and charge up and strike 'em dead! What else? If it cranked a cretin like Bloom two tiers just by being in the same room, then once you get ahold of it. . .Lord."
"Be careful, boy," he said. "If you get to the thing, take it slow. With your finger on a button like that. . .another few tiers up from where you're already at. . .You have a good heart, boy. I know you mean well. But none of that will matter if you cave the planet in. . .When I think of the crater you left in that poor girl's--"
"Dad," I snapped. "You think I need reminding?"
He shook his sadly. "Of course your remember. It's something you'll never forget."
- - -
Does insomnia cause too much remembering or does too much remembering cause insomnia?
It had been an hour since I'd crawled into bed, without waking Lisa. She wasn't with me because she was asleep. And I wasn't with her because I was in bed with someone else, in a memory.
It was twelve years ago. I was in bed with Evelyn Climber. The first and last super I ever got involved with. The girl who taught me the importance of keeping secrets, telling lies.
Evelyn Climber didn't have major powers. She could do a few basic things with heat. Nevertheless, she believed that supers were a class above, regardless of their abilities. It's how she was raised.
She wasn't some wild raving bigot about it. She didn't call the normals vermin like some of the supers did. But she sure liked to talk about "the natural order". Especially lately, when the day was winding down and we were lying in bed.
"I mean, we're the next stage in evolution," she continued. "Even if we didn't earn it. Even if it's a fluke of natural selection. It's still a fact."
"So you say."
"It's not just me who says it!" she protested. "Don't you watch the news? More and more people agree. The whole ASP platform is built on that fact."
"Fact," I scoffed.
"Fact," she insisted. "And it makes sense. Think about when humans evolved from monkeys. Right? It wasn't their choice to evolve. It just happened. But where would humanity be if the humans kept trying to live alongside the monkeys, as if they were the same? Human beings beating their chests and living in the trees, because they didn't want to leave the monkeys behind. Talking in yelps and grunts because they felt bad using their gifts for language, for thought. It was only natural that the humans split off from the monkeys and took charge."
"So you're saying that people without powers are monkeys."
"It's not exactly the same," she huffed. "It's an analogy."
"We didn't go right from monkeys to humans," I said. "There were stages between. . .For a long time humans lived side by side with Neanderthals. For tens of thousands of years, two different kinds of hominids shared the earth. . .Until the Neanderthals disappeared. They were here and then they were gone. Practically overnight. Extinct."
"Because humans were superior to the Neanderthals," Evelyn said. "Better hunters. More clever. More evolved. That's natural selection. With only so many resources to go around, the Neanderthals couldn't compete. So they died off."
"That would make sense," I said, "if they died off slow. Over thousands of years. Gradually getting edged out. But the people who study fossils don't think it was gradual. They figure the extinction of Neanderthals happened in a snap."
"Nobody knows for sure."
"Well. . .what do you think?" she asked.
"I think one day the humans with their big powerful brains came to realize they were different than the Neanderthals," I said. "And it wasn't long before "different" became "superior". Then these superior humans banded together, with their clubs and spears, and hunted down every last Neanderthal until none were left."
Evelyn was quiet after that. She was quiet for such a long time that I almost fell asleep. Sleeping was easy in those days. All it took was lying down and closing my eyes.
"That's sad," she finally said. "If that's how it happened. But it wouldn't be that way this time. With us. We wouldn't need to be cruel to the normals. Some supers might want to be, but not the majority of us. And we'd stop them if they tried."
Evelyn sighed. "I don't know, Sam. I don't know what's right. But I don't think it makes sense to pretend we're all the same. Because we're not."
On a hot summer's day, Evelyn could draw enough heat from her surroundings to boil a pot of water. And she could accomplish this incredible, superhuman feat in just over forty minutes. Clearly that meant she was destined to rule over the peons who boiled water on the stovetop in a tenth of the time.
She didn't yet know what I was capable of. I wasn't a compulsive liar back then, but I also wasn't forthcoming about my abilities. My dad had always stressed the importance of keeping my powers hidden. Of revealing my potential only in increments, and only to people I could trust.
For instance, Evelyn knew I could see in the dark. She knew I could hover a few inches off the ground. She knew I could turn the water she boiled into a block of ice. But she knew nothing more about the tremendous powers I wielded.
But I was tired and grouchy that night. And I was sick of having the same conversation twice a week. Sick of hearing them debate the same issues on the news, night after night, where supers from both sides of the aisle discussed questions of nature, governance and destiny--as if having the ability to fly, or conjure storms, or boil pots of water gave anyone the right to rule the world. I was sick of hearing about Archibald Blonde, that snake in a suit, running for president on a pro-super platform. Most of all, I was sick of normals turning up dead after taking a stand against the growing divide. It had gone from jokes to theories to murder far too quickly for my tastes.
I was tired and grouchy and sick of this conversation. I wanted to drive my point home, once and for all. So I did something stupid. Something I knew was stupid, even as I was doing it. Something that started a chain of events whose consequences would keep me from sleeping for the next twelve years.
I gave her a glimpse of my powers.
"Sam," Evelyn said. "What's happening? Sam!"
The whole bedroom was coming unglued. The floor tiles rotated gently as they rose from the grout; the bed and the bedside tables and the dressers began to float along with the duvet and the bedsheets and Evelyn herself. She squirmed midair as if in a room without gravity, while the lightbulbs came unscrewed from the fixtures yet continued to shine, shone even brighter than before. The walls were decomposing into their composite elements. The very atoms of things were coming apart.
I hovered above her in the middle of the formless whorl, looking down at her with eyes I knew glowed white. I called the wood forth from the four corners of the bed frame and they stretched and wrapped around her wrists and ankles, drew back so she was taught, trapped.
"Powers don't make you better," I said, "or I'd be the best of all."
On her face was a look of fright, of surprise--but also something else. Something I didn't want to see, overtaking the fright. It was a look of awe. Admiration. Adoration. As if she were face to face with god.
"But you are better," she whispered. She was trembling. There were tears in her eyes. "Sam. You're the best of all."
- - -
The rain was still pounding when I woke up. Lisa had left already. I stretched and yawned and looked at the clock. 10:00 am. So I'd snagged a few hours, at least.
I drank my first cup of coffee and smoked and sleuthed on my laptop. Usually a fruitless exercise. The internet was closely monitored and controlled. Most people didn't realize the extent of it. But if something was going on that the people in charge didn't want the public to know about, it was almost impossible find any mention of it online.
But some things were too obvious for the censors to hide without revealing their hand. When something really big happened they had to let the people chatter. And that's what it was like this morning. On all sorts of forums and blogs, people from the city were talking about how the closer they got to the eastern city limits, the weaker their powers felt. Hundreds of people--complaining, agreeing, hypothesizing.
The top theory was that a new super who could suppress powers was in town. But if a super with that kind of power was around, I would have sensed him. Full stop.
Another theory was that someone had gotten ahold of a bunch of Kryptonite, and was storing it on the east side. But I didn't buy that theory, either. Kryptonite was rare. So rare that nobody'd discovered a single trace on earth since the first samples were launched into the sun. And it wasn't for a lack of trying. There was a well-funded organization whose sole purpose was to sniff around for the stuff, and they worked hard; it's just that there was none to find. It seemed unlikely that someone smart enough to secure a bunch of Kryptonite without getting noticed would be dumb enough to store it in a major city, where a bunch of supers would feel its effects.
I kept clicking and scrolling until I found a thread with a couple ideas I could sink my teeth into. The conversation went like this:
"It seems strongest on the east side," one post read. "Near the LogoCorp tower and the nuclear plant."
"Agreed," said another. "I drove by there this morning and I felt like a normal."
"A normal? Gross."
"They could be doing some kind of experiment in the nuke plant," suggested a third. "Testing out a machine that suppresses supers. Maybe it takes a lot of energy, so they need to plug it right into the reactors."
Or, I thought to myself, maybe they're using the machine to suppress the signature of Bloom's boosting meteorite, to keep it hidden, and it's only suppressing the rest of us as a side effect. That would explain why I couldn't see any trace of it last night when I scanned the city.
I finished off my coffee, had a quick shower, dried and dressed. Then I ambled east.
- - -
They had set up a perimeter around the nuke plant, in addition to the high barbed-wire fence which normally surrounded it. There were signs. Wooden barricades. Caution tape. Police officers stood under makeshift tents all around the plant; rain drummed on the canvases.
The surroundings street and sidewalks were totally flooded, so the plant seemed like it was girded by a moat. I could feel my powers draining the closer I got--especially as I crossed the flooded street.
"Far enough!" an officer cried.
I pretended I couldn't hear him as I marched. The water was halfway up my ankles. I should have worn boots. The hood of my raincoat was pulled over my head.
"Hey! You!" I had reached land by the time I looked up. The cop was directly in front of me. "Can't hear?Can't read?"
"Erm hello sir!" I squeaked in a nasally poindexter's voice. "Gee, it sure is raining. What's all this caution tape? Oh goodness, has there been a murder, sir? Oh gosh, is this a crime scene?"
"Essential personnel only," the cop growled. "Do you fit that description? Do you work in the plant?"
He had a punchable mug, this cop, and a superior tone that told me he wasn't sufficiently aware. My fist ached to inform him. But instead I blinked hard and hunched like a dweeb.
"Do I work there?" I stammered, pointing at the two wide concrete stacks belching steam. "In the facility? Oh. . .no, sir!"
"Then shove," he said.
You couldn't become a cop if you had powers. Those were the rules. Yet it seemed all the cops ever did was look out for the interests of supers. Helping them gain even more power and wealth and influence. Letting them get away with murder, while spitting on the normals every chance they got. A bunch of quisling sycophants.
"Well, you see, sir," I weaselled, "my lovely darling wife works in the plant, sir. Every morning I take my lunch break early to come visit her."
"Not this morning you don't," said the punchable cop.
"But was there really a murder?" I asked. "Is this really the scene of a crime? I'm terribly worried, sir. I haven't been able to reach my lovely wife on the phone, and now I'm fearing the worst. Oh, my!" I clutched at my chest. "My palpitations. Oh, goodness me!"
"No murder," said the punchable cop. "So take a breath. I'm sure your wife is fine. All this rain is making problems in the plant. It's under control, but they don't want to take any risks. Don't want civilians around in case things turn radioactive."
"Radioactive?" I cried. "I must get inside to check on my wife!"
"Not a chance," said the cop.
Other officers were watching us from their posts. A couple minor supers, too. Thugs. One was muttering into a radio as he glared at me.
Out of the facility, through the front doors, strolled a familiar figure. It was Bloom. He conjured from thin air a tropical plant with huge broad leaves and a firm stem, which he propped on his shoulder for an umbrella. He started down the walk, toward us.
"You know," I said to the cop, dropping the dork act, "you might be better off standing inside the plant when it melts down."
"Near the reactors," I continued. "Maybe you'd get superpowers when they went. Like in the old comic books."
"Or maybe you'd sizzle up," I said. "Like bacon. . .It's a risk. But you'll never know unless you fry."
"Sound's like someone wants to sample some shiny new bracelets," the cop growled.
"Not me. Have a swell afternoon. Keep safe."
- - -
I tailed Bloom at a good distance. That big ball of flesh with his stubby little legs. He conjured lily pads from the water wherever his path was flooded and crossed upon their backs like some greasy toad prince. Whistling as he bounced, his shoulders pulled back, he made roses appear out of nothing and handed them to the pretty women he passed.
Of course, I now knew the nuke plant had something to do with the larger plot. My suspicion that the meteorite was inside, and that they were hiding its signature with some high-powered device, was stronger than ever.
But I couldn't risk playing my hand. Not yet. I couldn't risk bolting into the plant and getting caught--especially given how weak the device would make me. Nor could I risk shaking Bloom down for information. That would give too much away.
So long as I kept at an anonymous distance, their guards would be down. But if I went up and threatened Bloom for info, he'd start asking who I was. He'd come around to suspecting I was in league with the Cleaner, if he didn't outright pick me for the man himself.
Then he'd know who I was and he'd know that I'd caught on to their scheme. Soon after, the others would know, too. They'd put their guards up, making it impossible for me to surprise them, as well as putting Lisa and my Dad in danger.
It was better to stay out of the spotlight. For now, at least.
- - -
I'll post the rest tomorrow! Stay tuned!
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2021.10.19 05:08 bogodee Anyone else underwhelmed by “They Both Die At the End”?
First and foremost, I didn’t realize it was YA. So the writing was a little childish. I feel like the author at times did a great job at making me bond with the characters, but in the end I didn’t feel the emotion I thought I would. Would recommend, though, to YA’s or even young teens. It’s a good “okay” book
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2021.10.19 05:08 Hour_Caterpillar8480 Kurama
Now that naruto has lost kurama , i have a question is bee now stronger than naruto or no ?? Can you guys answer with more details Thank you
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2021.10.19 05:08 CheshiiCat Squish mail of the day, the little baby 🥺💕
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2021.10.19 05:08 baba-yega_420 Does anyone have this song/link for I can download it on iTunes on my laptop please.Also this song hits different
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2021.10.19 05:08 glutenfreebestie 21M mixed israeli/portuguese/coptic. used to be 220 pounds so this should be interesting
2021.10.19 05:08 Typical-Positive8623 I am back guys
2021.10.19 05:08 Wild-Coat3875 Bru Luccas she want...
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2021.10.19 05:08 33n33 Does anyone find streamers kind of cringe
2021.10.19 05:08 Clarkey7163 [Panthers] Club Statement - Breach Notices
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2021.10.19 05:08 214txdude ITAP of Great Sand Dunes National Park. Part 2
2021.10.19 05:08 dwight022 Realme GT Master or Xiaomi 11t Pro?
Title says it all. Or if you have any phone suggestions that is on the price range. With the nearing announcement of 11t pro in the phil. Im kinda looking for more options. Thank you.
Also Oneplus 8T is also on the table.
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2021.10.19 05:08 throwawayCPA1229 Small Commercial Lot Passive Income Ideas
Long story short, fell into this property. Any ideas for passive income? Property borders a large trailer park and sits on a semi-busy four lane road. Deed restricted and can’t be a car wash
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2021.10.19 05:08 venrakdrake Why is Momo going "Shhhhh" in "Nightmares and Daydreams" so creepy???
I'm sure I'm not the only one that was horribly creeped out when they first saw that moment. I'm curious as to why that is creepy. What is the psychological process going through our mind that makes it creepy? Does anybody have any ideas? To me it's like Momo, in the dream, knows something is terribly wrong, and you think he's on your side but him going Shhhh just raises so many questions as to what he is doing there in the first place. It would be like if you were hanging out with a friend late at night and you wandered into some creepy place and you heard a noise. You both start freaking out and are like "bro did you hear that", then all of a sudden your friend drops his freaked out composure, looks to you dead in the eyes and is like "Shhhh". I would be like WTF WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHO ARE YOU. It would just raise so many questions, like he knows something that I don't, and that something is about to happen.
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2021.10.19 05:08 theginfizz Rescue burrito 🌯
2021.10.19 05:08 pm_me_your_fancam If BigHit goves us a choice to release only ONE of these remixes into Spotify, which one will you choose?
2021.10.19 05:08 InnuDoggy89 EgoInktober 2021, 19: Snack & Loop
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2021.10.19 05:08 reflectiveruse Perrie in May: 'Being in Little Mix, our life is like blocked up for two years in advance'
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2021.10.19 05:08 Masonite111 Really falling for this color combo on the new Mako v4
|submitted by Masonite111 to balisong [link] [comments]|
2021.10.19 05:08 Zestyclose-Bridge-17 Is Ralsei Asriel or a representation of him
2021.10.19 05:08 haber-trend Sıcak! | İstanbulspor-Tuzlaspor maçının ardından #TFF1Lig #İstanbulspor #Tuzlaspor #AnkaraKeçiörengücü son saatin en çok aranan 2. trend haberi oldu ve an itibarıyla 3 gazetede yer alıyor.