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Life of a Hero/Villain
By: T.W.

Mike opened the door to his house; he flipped on the lights and sat in the large chair across from the fireplace to think. Thauma was gone, she left with Occam’s Razar, a character whose appearance was enough to discourage trust. Try as he might, he could not understand Thauma’s leaving, slowly the Onami was falling apart, It was amazing how Aaron was such I vital part in holding the group together. The Onami was gone, it was no longer existing, sure they got together but it wasn’t a Onami group get together, more like old friends now, the Onami was either giving up or, Mike thought bitterly, dying off.

Mike was determined to stay with the Onami under his hero name Voltech, until every last piece of the group was gone, and after that he would still where the cresting wave of the Onami till the day he died. He practically ran the base now, having combined his extensive laboratory with the Onami base ha had been the most frequent, id not only, occupant of those walls for months.

For a moment he wished he wasn’t a super so he could drown his problems in bottle of the strongest and pass out on the floor and forget everything, but his super fast metabolism kept him from getting that drunk, he wasn’t as immune to alcohol as the regenerative heroes so he could still get “tipsy” but it would have to be a constant consumption of the drink to keep it that way for long.

That’s what he needed, a distraction he needed to keep his mind occupied. He got out of the chair, he strapped on biking boots, baggy leather pant with a tight belt, he wore a white shirt with the emblem of a black Skull on its front, he fitted on open-finger gloves with metal caps on the knuckles, last he slipped on his leather jacket and headed out the door. He considered bringing his glasses but decided that the less he had to raise suspicion the better.

Mike got on his speed bike, put on his helmet and sped down the night streets of Paragon. He arrived at the place in no time at all, he was in the deepest parts of Steel, he had never got here so fast, driving was faster then flying, everything was faster then flying. He went into the club.

The place reeked of alcohol and the thick cloud of cigarette smoke hung just above his head, the DJ looked busy at the turntable and dancing women in cages and on poles dressed a lot like the heroines in Paragon were everywhere. Mike took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer, nothing to strong something casual as not to gather any more attention then he was already receiving.

Several people were watching him suspiciously, Mike didn’t know but something about his build seemed abnormal. He had barely finished his first beer when a tall, thick built biker stereotype tapped his shoulder. “no freaks are allowed here” he said in a voice not quiet enough so several people around them started watching and telling other to do the same.

“Then I wonder why they let you in” Mike retorted taking another drink. The biker kicked the stool out from under Mike. Mike stood and turned coming eye to eye with the guy. He was surprisingly tall for a normal person meeting Mike’s gaze. A circle of onlookers gathered around him, several equally tall and more muscular people stood in the inner circle most likely backing up the guy in front of Mike.

The silence stretched between them like a spiders web, suddenly the biker spat a throat full of phlegm in Mikes face, the slimy projectile landed on Mikes cheek, bringing roars and cheers from the crowd, the biker broke into a silver and gold toothed grin.

Mike wiped the slime from his cheek slowly and then, with amazing speed punched the biker in his grinning face. While the guy fought to keep from falling backwards, Mike dropped and spun taking the bikers legs out from under him with his foot. Mike rolled and stood, a chain cracked right where his head had been a second before. One of the guys friends had a long chain wrapped around his arm a full 7 feet of it lay slack on the ground.

The chain-wielder swung his chain horizontally, neck level, with a perfectly timed move Mike was able to grab the end of the chain with the least amount of damage possible done to his hand. With a mighty tug Mike pulled the chain and its user to him, he wrapped the chain around the wielder and spun him uncontrollably into another biker advancing on him.

A chair broke on Mike’s back, the first biker was up and still beating him with the broken frame of the chair as Mike hit the ground. He was immediately lifted by the two others and was held back as the first punched him across the face repeatedly. Finally he stopped for a breath, Mike lip was busted along with several bruises that would heal quickly. Using the lapse of time he pushed his captors feet out with his own making them un balanced, immediately following that Mike pushed with both his feet on the first bikers chest bringing him and his two holders down.

The wind was clearly knocked out of the two since they rolled over on hands and knees gasping. Mike rolled on the floor and stood behind the first biker grabbing his arm. He twisted his wrist and slammed his palm into his elbow, the elbow snapped the opposite way and the biker screamed in pain, Mike used his elbow and knocked the broken armed biker out and placed him securely head between the bars of one of the cages hanging from the ceiling, the bikers feet hang limping off the ground.

A chain whipped around his neck and pulled him back the second biker was choking him while the third began hitting him the ribs with a pipe, every broken rib healed sever seconds later but the pain was horrible plus he couldn’t breathe. Bringing his hand from his neck in a lightning fast motion he grabbed the pipe and smacked the chain holder on top of the head with it, he loosened his grip and Mike escaped. The third biker aimed a kick for Mikes groin and he made an X with his arms to stop the kick before it reached its target, “cowards way out” he said. With a quick twist the third biker’s ankle was broken. Taking the Pipe he knocked the third biker out and hung him from his belt and collar of his jacket on a spinning ceiling fan length wise.

He stopped to admire his work and almost lost his head because of it, but his sense of electrons caught the disturbance of chain whipping at him and Mike was able to roll behind the bar table as the chain shattered several bottles standing on the table itself. Mike began repeatedly throwing bottles of different types of drink at the chain biker causing him to defend himself repeatedly.

Mike almost threw a very expensive wine, but caught himself and stashed the thin bottle in one of his inside pockets. He jumped on the table and waited for the chain biker to attack, when he did Mike launched the end of the chain up and it snagged on another, but more high-powered ceiling fan that hung over the bar table. The bikers face turned from rage to one of realization, he began to fight frantically on the chains wrapped around him, evidentially the same chain, he successfully unwrapped the chain wrapped around his arm then the chain pulled tight, tightening the chain around the third bikers neck hanging him from the fan. Mike sighed, “oops” was all he said.

He placed some money on the bartenders counter to pay for the damages and walked out, but not before pick-pocketing several wallets of the crowd he bumped into. He hopped on his motorcycle and headed home.

This was his life, and he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

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