Everyone called her A. Mostly ‘cuz of her most obvious feature, but A liked to think it also stood for attack. She was the baddest bitch in all of Gold-Digger’s. And damn if this honky bastard wasn’t going to make her show it.
She took him for an easy mark when she first saw him. He seemed like the type of cat who would either cave and pay a little for the show or go down with little fight. Instead the pot-bellied redneck wanted to scrap and she was more than willing to oblige.
A knew this shit. She had been in scrapes and brawls since she was a kid. Growing up on the streets she learned how to fight at the same time she was learning to make money from her other assets. Now she could hold her own with the best of them. Nobody could match her with her ‘chuks or the rest of her arsenal, and she fought as dirty as the minds of Gold-Digger’s clientele.
She whipped the nunchuks around and straight at white-boy’s head. He threw his already injured arm up. A sharp crack radiated through the room as the bone shattered in a second place. White-boy shrugged off the injury without even a wince. He pushed forward and drove a shoulder straight in to her gut.
A stumbled back at the blow. She struggled to keep her footing and by the time she regained it, the honky had retrieved an aluminum baseball bat from the floor beside him.
With the bat in hand, she recognized him. They called him The Everyman. He protected a small district a couple blocks north of here. She knew he was a meta, knew he was tough, but now she planned to find out just how tough.
She twisted and threw a blow out with the nunchuks. They struck against Everyman’s bat as he parried. At the same time, A reached for her bracelet and yanked another charm free. Seconds later, she held a full sized scimitar in her other hand.
Everyman swung his weapon. A deflected it away with a stroke of the blade, and then brought the nunchaku up and around the bat’s base. The chain wrapped around the bat, and she yanked back to pull it away from her foe. Everyman’s hands slipped away, but as they did he flipped an almost invisible switch on the handle of the bat.
Electricity raced out the bat, through the nunchuks, and straight in to A. She shook and shuttered as time seemed to stop. After an interminable five seconds the bat clattered to the floor and A dropped down to one knee beside it.
She started to pull herself up, but Everyman’s boot caught her across the right side of the face. She dropped down on her hands and knees. He landed another foot to her gut. A dropped to the floor as she gasped for breath.
Everyman reached down and yanked her up by the red extensions weaved in to her hair. “Bitch, next time you pick a fight make sure it’s one you can win.” He shoved her face back in the floor and A could only hear his feet as he walked away.
Everything went black.
“A! A, wake up!” She opened her eyes. Another woman stood over her in a camouflage tank top and matching cap. Her reddish brown hair was pulled back in to a ponytail. Her large chest stretched the shirt to its limits as the woman stroked a stray hair out of A’s face.
“T?”
“Yeah it’s me, baby girl. What did you go and do to yourself?”
A looked around. They were backstage at Gold-Digger’s. She realized she was on the dressing room couch as a pair of half naked women walked past. She rubbed her aching cheek as she sat upright.
“I picked a fight I wasn’t ready for. That’s all. Next time though I’ll make sure the bastard burns for hurting me.”
T leaned in and kissed her. A sighed as T’s hands ran down her body. The pain seemed to melt away from her as T pulled back and gave her a smile.
“Don’t you worry,” T said. “The bastard will get his. All of the misogynistic bastards in this city will.” A couldn’t help but smile back.
Showing posts with label Everyman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Everyman. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
2.2 Enter The Everyman
Gold-Diggers wasn’t the usual type of joint John Simmons liked to frequent. The beer was good, some of the least watered down in the entire Divide, but the entertainment just wasn’t his style. All the Latinos and black girls just weren’t his style. Give him a blonde with big boobs rather than this booty-shaking any day.
He shrugged the complaint off as he downed another Michelob in two gulps. He tapped on the counter and the bartender hustled another glass out of the tap. At least the drink is good, he reminded himself. And with the tab covered by the locals, the price is definitely right.
John enjoyed his task as the people’s Everyman. He enjoyed getting free drinks, he enjoyed the attention of his fans, and he most definitely enjoyed the ass-kicking his job entailed. For the first time in his life, he felt almost happy with who he was. And it scared him.
He finished his current beer, his tenth of the night, and signaled the bartender for the next. The bartender’s eyes narrowed a bit probably at the thought of all the free beer he was serving, but he served it up anyway. John looked down in to it and contemplated just how much his life had changed since the early days of the Divide.
He didn’t like thinking about that. He took another swig of beer and silently wished Pinaretti would find her way here. The city councilwoman had kept her job from the days back when it was a legitimate position in Detroit right through the reigns of both Mr. Mayor and the Antagonist. She was good at her job, and even those opportunistic, evil bastards recognized it. Unfortunately for them, she also served as his source of information on the comings and goings of the current political circles. In exchange, he happily protected her constituents as judge, jury, and executioner of anyone who would dare attack their thirty-five blocks.
And the sex with Jan was damn good too.
Unfortunately for Everyman, thoughts of Antagonist and sex made him even more depressed. He couldn’t help but think of Barbara, his bitch of an ex-wife. Most guys only had to deal with hatred issues when it comes to divorce, but not me. I have to deal with her, her psycho, city-controlling boy-toy, his minions, and my brainwashed little boy.
Vic, I’m sorry, kiddo. A better dad would never have let that happen to you.
John grunted and downed his beer. He pounded on the bar to get another beer sent his way.
God damn Jan needs to hurry her ass up, he thought.
He felt naked skin brush against his arm as someone sat down in the seat next to him. He glanced over as the new arrival ordered a shot of Jack.
He found himself looking at one of the booty-shakers from on stage, and damn, did she have a lot of it to shake. A light skinned black girl in a garish red wig, a cut-off t-shirt that must have been taped on to her chest, the usual shiny faux-gold jewelry, and a pair of coochie-cutters that left the bottom half of her ass in view of the world.
He thought for a moment about what Jan might look like in that outfit. Damn nice. He grunted and shoved the thought away before returning to his beer.
The stripper apparently wasn’t done with him. She shoved him hard in the arm. Had he expected the blow, John could have easily shrugged it off, but coming from nowhere it pushed him off balance on his stool. He straightened one leg to stop himself from falling to the floor.
He pushed back his first urge to attack and turned to look at the girl.
“Hey, you dissing me and my girls? Cuz I don’t take well to any little white boys coming in here and not at least going to the trouble to make sure me and my sistahs get paid. You feel me?”
“No, I don’t feel you, lady. I don’t give a shit about you or your skanky ass friends. I came here to have a drink. Do you ‘feel that’?”
“Look here, bitch-boy. I don’t care who your ass be, big mucky-muck local hero or whatever. You dis me and my girls and I will kick your ass.”
John leaned over and looked at her shorts. He smiled a drunken grin. “I think it would be way easier for me to hit yours. Now get the hell out of here.”
He started to turn back to his drink just as the girl brought her shot glass hard in to his face. The blow caught him flat-footed and he fell back and out of his seat. He landed hard on his own ample but far less attractive posterior.
“I told you not to treat me and my girls like that. Now I’m going to have to beat your bitch ass.” She yanked one of the charms that dangled from her bracelet free. John watched in shock as the charm suddenly enlarged in to a full-sized nunchaku.
John rolled away as the stripper brought the nunchuks down where he lay only moments before. Tile splintered on the floor. John glanced back towards the bar where his own weapon still sat propped against this side of the table.
His vision came back up just in time to see the nunchuks swing back his way. He threw up his left arm as a sacrifice. He felt the bones shatter as the stripper’s weapon struck. He instantly willed the pain away.
John quickly skimmed his body back across the rapidly clearing floor. Using his good arm, he pushed himself easily back to his feet. His steady drinking now over a minute gone, he could feel his body already erasing its effects. Normally he hated his inability to sustain a good drinking buzz but in this case he thanked his lucky stars.
“Bitch, you just made a big mistake,” he said. He raised his remaining good arm in a boxing stance.
“The name’s A, Everyman. Just A. You remember that when your ass is sitting in the hospital in the morning.” She lunged forward. Everyman shook his head and wished he could have just one night of peaceful drinking.
No, I don’t, he thought. I love this shit.
Once again, it was time to kick a whole lot of ass. Literally.
He shrugged the complaint off as he downed another Michelob in two gulps. He tapped on the counter and the bartender hustled another glass out of the tap. At least the drink is good, he reminded himself. And with the tab covered by the locals, the price is definitely right.
John enjoyed his task as the people’s Everyman. He enjoyed getting free drinks, he enjoyed the attention of his fans, and he most definitely enjoyed the ass-kicking his job entailed. For the first time in his life, he felt almost happy with who he was. And it scared him.
He finished his current beer, his tenth of the night, and signaled the bartender for the next. The bartender’s eyes narrowed a bit probably at the thought of all the free beer he was serving, but he served it up anyway. John looked down in to it and contemplated just how much his life had changed since the early days of the Divide.
He didn’t like thinking about that. He took another swig of beer and silently wished Pinaretti would find her way here. The city councilwoman had kept her job from the days back when it was a legitimate position in Detroit right through the reigns of both Mr. Mayor and the Antagonist. She was good at her job, and even those opportunistic, evil bastards recognized it. Unfortunately for them, she also served as his source of information on the comings and goings of the current political circles. In exchange, he happily protected her constituents as judge, jury, and executioner of anyone who would dare attack their thirty-five blocks.
And the sex with Jan was damn good too.
Unfortunately for Everyman, thoughts of Antagonist and sex made him even more depressed. He couldn’t help but think of Barbara, his bitch of an ex-wife. Most guys only had to deal with hatred issues when it comes to divorce, but not me. I have to deal with her, her psycho, city-controlling boy-toy, his minions, and my brainwashed little boy.
Vic, I’m sorry, kiddo. A better dad would never have let that happen to you.
John grunted and downed his beer. He pounded on the bar to get another beer sent his way.
God damn Jan needs to hurry her ass up, he thought.
He felt naked skin brush against his arm as someone sat down in the seat next to him. He glanced over as the new arrival ordered a shot of Jack.
He found himself looking at one of the booty-shakers from on stage, and damn, did she have a lot of it to shake. A light skinned black girl in a garish red wig, a cut-off t-shirt that must have been taped on to her chest, the usual shiny faux-gold jewelry, and a pair of coochie-cutters that left the bottom half of her ass in view of the world.
He thought for a moment about what Jan might look like in that outfit. Damn nice. He grunted and shoved the thought away before returning to his beer.
The stripper apparently wasn’t done with him. She shoved him hard in the arm. Had he expected the blow, John could have easily shrugged it off, but coming from nowhere it pushed him off balance on his stool. He straightened one leg to stop himself from falling to the floor.
He pushed back his first urge to attack and turned to look at the girl.
“Hey, you dissing me and my girls? Cuz I don’t take well to any little white boys coming in here and not at least going to the trouble to make sure me and my sistahs get paid. You feel me?”
“No, I don’t feel you, lady. I don’t give a shit about you or your skanky ass friends. I came here to have a drink. Do you ‘feel that’?”
“Look here, bitch-boy. I don’t care who your ass be, big mucky-muck local hero or whatever. You dis me and my girls and I will kick your ass.”
John leaned over and looked at her shorts. He smiled a drunken grin. “I think it would be way easier for me to hit yours. Now get the hell out of here.”
He started to turn back to his drink just as the girl brought her shot glass hard in to his face. The blow caught him flat-footed and he fell back and out of his seat. He landed hard on his own ample but far less attractive posterior.
“I told you not to treat me and my girls like that. Now I’m going to have to beat your bitch ass.” She yanked one of the charms that dangled from her bracelet free. John watched in shock as the charm suddenly enlarged in to a full-sized nunchaku.
John rolled away as the stripper brought the nunchuks down where he lay only moments before. Tile splintered on the floor. John glanced back towards the bar where his own weapon still sat propped against this side of the table.
His vision came back up just in time to see the nunchuks swing back his way. He threw up his left arm as a sacrifice. He felt the bones shatter as the stripper’s weapon struck. He instantly willed the pain away.
John quickly skimmed his body back across the rapidly clearing floor. Using his good arm, he pushed himself easily back to his feet. His steady drinking now over a minute gone, he could feel his body already erasing its effects. Normally he hated his inability to sustain a good drinking buzz but in this case he thanked his lucky stars.
“Bitch, you just made a big mistake,” he said. He raised his remaining good arm in a boxing stance.
“The name’s A, Everyman. Just A. You remember that when your ass is sitting in the hospital in the morning.” She lunged forward. Everyman shook his head and wished he could have just one night of peaceful drinking.
No, I don’t, he thought. I love this shit.
Once again, it was time to kick a whole lot of ass. Literally.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
The Everyman
Everyman 
Powers: Mind Over Matter: 12, Regeneration: 4, Systemic Antidote: 10
Skills: Martial Artist: 5*, Occultist (occult knowledge): 4, Thief: 5*, Weaponry (melee, missile, exotic): 5*
Bonuses and Limitations: Weaponry (exotic) only applies to his electrified bat
Advantages: Area Knowledge (The Divide), Double Jointed, Iron Nerves, Local Hero, Stabilization
Connections: Councilwoman Pinaretti (high), Jack Flash (high), Street (high)
Drawbacks: Debt (Rob Vile), Enemy (Antagonist), Public Identity, SIA to Beer, Traumatic Flashbacks (to crucifixion;, uncommon, triggered by having hands tied)
Equipment: Electrified Bat [Body: 7, EV: 3, Lightning: 7] Limitations: Lightning has a range of Touch
| Dex: 05 | Str: 05 | Bod: 05 | Motivation: Thrilll of Adventure |
| Int: 05 | Wil: 08 | Min: 07 | Occupation: Vigilante |
| Inf: 06 | Aur: 07 | Spi: 06 | Resources {or Wealth}: 005 |
| Init: 018 | HP: 035 |
Skills: Martial Artist: 5*, Occultist (occult knowledge): 4, Thief: 5*, Weaponry (melee, missile, exotic): 5*
Bonuses and Limitations: Weaponry (exotic) only applies to his electrified bat
Advantages: Area Knowledge (The Divide), Double Jointed, Iron Nerves, Local Hero, Stabilization
Connections: Councilwoman Pinaretti (high), Jack Flash (high), Street (high)
Drawbacks: Debt (Rob Vile), Enemy (Antagonist), Public Identity, SIA to Beer, Traumatic Flashbacks (to crucifixion;, uncommon, triggered by having hands tied)
Equipment: Electrified Bat [Body: 7, EV: 3, Lightning: 7] Limitations: Lightning has a range of Touch
Background:
Real name: John Simmons
Marital status: Divorced
Known relatives: Barbara (ex-wife), Victor "Vic" (son)
Group affiliation: None
Base Of Operations: Simmons residence in the southern portion of The Divide
Height: 6' Weight: 220lbs.
Eyes: Blue Hair: Blond
Powers and Abilities:
John Simmons possesses the ability to shut off his pain receptacles at will. This allows him to remain active in combat far longer than any normal human. In addition, his body possesses enhanced healing abilities and a high level of resistance from poisons and disease.
A trained street brawler, The Everyman carries a bat which possesses an electrical charge that he uses as a dangerous offensive weapon. Simmons is never seen without his bat near at hand.
History:
Little is known of the history of the Everyman before he gained his abilities. A native of Detroit, he gained his powers sometime either shortly before or after the city’s destruction. He became one of the city’s earliest vigilantes, although his earliest endeavours were often fights with reformed villain Double Cross. To this day, Simmons and Double Cross don’t see eye to eye.
Unlike many other metahumans remaining in the Divide, John Simmons had a wife and son. His lack of desire to keep his identity secret led to them falling in to dangerous situations and his wife Barbara would eventually leave him while he was out on the town. This brought about even more binge drinking by the Everyman and in turn even more rowdiness.
The Everyman was one of the first men to challenge the Antagonist and his minions in the Great Question. But he fell victim to the Antagonist’s mind games over and over again. Ultimately, he fell to the Antagonist and his two newest recruits: his ex-wife Barbara and son Vic. They watched in cold blood as Simmons was crucified and left to die on the edge of the Q-Zone.
Simmons was rescued by the residents of his own neighborhood. Nursed back to health he met Councilwoman Vanessa Pinaretti, a thirty something former alderwoman who remained in her position of power under Mr. Mayor’s reign. She helped him to find a new place as a community leader and protector, and he continues his quest to clean up the Divide and defeat the Antagonist once and for all.
Description:
See picture. John Simmons usually wears simple street clothes, most often a pair of ragged blue jeans and a wifebeater.
Personality:
John Simmons is a blue collar slag at heart. He likes to drink, he likes to fight, and he likes to have a good time with the ladies. But despite all this, he does have a layer of emotional instability, mostly related to the betrayal of his former wife and son. He will do just about anything to convince them to leave the Great Question, and in turn it fuels his undying hatred for Antagonist.
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