spanishspy
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Post by spanishspy on May 24, 2017 7:45:26 GMT
Preface: I have been slacking for the past year in the half when it comes to my creative endeavors; the last was my Christmas timeline for 2016, but only recently have the ideas begun to flow like they did before. This, I hope, will be my real triumphant return to the AH scene. The world has dragged me through hell in one way or another in the past year and a half, but I won't bore you with that. As I recover as a person I shall recover as a writer, or so I duly hope. This timeline was inspired in no small part by my binge-watching of all the movies back in February and March of this year. I overall enjoyed it, but as a writer (and an alternate historian) I naturally picked it apart, and eventually a sort of deconstruction of the general superhero mythos came to be, and this is it. I have no disdain for Marvel or DC or any of the others; I simply have another interpretation of the basic concept. Without further ado: WORTHY OF THEIR METTLE:
A SUPERHERO TIMELINE
BY SPANISHSPY
"Super-heroes are fascinating, in and of themselves. But, just as Joe Louis would have been less of a hero without Max Schmelling, super-heroes need a villain worthy of their mettle. The super-villain." - Roy Thomas
Excerpts from the 2011 State of the Union Address delivered by United States President Donald Rumsfeld:
"For those superhumans among our population whose powers are controllable, we have made tremendous strides in acceptance of their civil rights; we would not have a superpowered Vice President had we not. For those whose abilities are more innate and less conscious, we have made great strides in balancing their unique dispensations with the broader public good."
...
"Our work with our allies in Latin America has been one of nothing less than good for humanity in the face of terrors such as reborn Mesoamerican deities or rogue post-Soviet superhumans manufactured by the KGB and their ilk. In particular I would like to single out our gracious friends in Argentina who have let us build our new naval base in the Malvinas to combat threats to world order that have made their lairs in Antarctica."
...
"In light of the impending crisis that, I have been assured by our researchers, will occur next year, I can promise you the withdrawal of all of our fighting men and women from Guatemala by the end of this current term."
...
"Among other substantive measures, the Agency for International Development has budgeted ten billion dollars in food, medical supplies, and infrastructure support to the reconstruction of damaged areas of Ireland."
...
"And I will assure the world that our fighting men and women, not least of all our superhero teams and agents, will be used to fight against the evils that plague our world, and to defend the Pax Americana that has brought prosperity to the world." |
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lordroel
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Post by lordroel on May 24, 2017 13:21:49 GMT
Preface: I have been slacking for the past year in the half when it comes to my creative endeavors; the last was my Christmas timeline for 2016, but only recently have the ideas begun to flow like they did before. This, I hope, will be my real triumphant return to the AH scene. The world has dragged me through hell in one way or another in the past year and a half, but I won't bore you with that. As I recover as a person I shall recover as a writer, or so I duly hope. This timeline was inspired in no small part by my binge-watching of all the movies back in February and March of this year. I overall enjoyed it, but as a writer (and an alternate historian) I naturally picked it apart, and eventually a sort of deconstruction of the general superhero mythos came to be, and this is it. I have no disdain for Marvel or DC or any of the others; I simply have another interpretation of the basic concept. Without further ado: WORTHY OF THEIR METTLE:
A SUPERHERO TIMELINE
BY SPANISHSPY
"Super-heroes are fascinating, in and of themselves. But, just as Joe Louis would have been less of a hero without Max Schmelling, super-heroes need a villain worthy of their mettle. The super-villain." - Roy Thomas
Excerpts from the 2011 State of the Union Address delivered by United States President Donald Rumsfeld:
"For those superhumans among our population whose powers are controllable, we have made tremendous strides in acceptance of their civil rights; we would not have a superpowered Vice President had we not. For those whose abilities are more innate and less conscious, we have made great strides in balancing their unique dispensations with the broader public good."
...
"Our work with our allies in Latin America has been one of nothing less than good for humanity in the face of terrors such as reborn Mesoamerican deities or rogue post-Soviet superhumans manufactured by the KGB and their ilk. In particular I would like to single out our gracious friends in Argentina who have let us build our new naval base in the Malvinas to combat threats to world order that have made their lairs in Antarctica."
...
"In light of the impending crisis that, I have been assured by our researchers, will occur next year, I can promise you the withdrawal of all of our fighting men and women from Guatemala by the end of this current term."
...
"Among other substantive measures, the Agency for International Development has budgeted ten billion dollars in food, medical supplies, and infrastructure support to the reconstruction of damaged areas of Ireland."
...
"And I will assure the world that our fighting men and women, not least of all our superhero teams and agents, will be used to fight against the evils that plague our world, and to defend the Pax Americana that has brought prosperity to the world." Nice to see you having started your first 2017 timeline. |
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stevep
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Post by stevep on May 24, 2017 15:16:30 GMT
Interesting but ominous as a Brit since the US is allied with imperial Argentina and the comments about a huge level of aid to Ireland suggestingf something very bad there.
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spanishspy
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Post by spanishspy on May 24, 2017 18:28:16 GMT
Interesting but ominous as a Brit since the US is allied with imperial Argentina and the comments about a huge level of aid to Ireland suggestingf something very bad there. With things I write such as this it is generally ominous, for Brits or otherwise. |
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stevep
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Post by stevep on May 24, 2017 19:46:54 GMT
Interesting but ominous as a Brit since the US is allied with imperial Argentina and the comments about a huge level of aid to Ireland suggestingf something very bad there. With things I write such as this it is generally ominous, for Brits or otherwise. Now that sounds even more ominous. Not to mention I had noticed who was US President. |
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lordroel
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Post by lordroel on May 24, 2017 19:53:03 GMT
Interesting but ominous as a Brit since the US is allied with imperial Argentina and the comments about a huge level of aid to Ireland suggestingf something very bad there. With things I write such as this it is generally ominous, for Brits or otherwise. Well if the Maldives are Argentina and Ireland has what it seem to be damaged, i think the United Kingdom is not well of in this universe. |
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spanishspy
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Post by spanishspy on May 25, 2017 3:57:11 GMT
Somewhere in remote Patagonia
1980
"Mama?" asked Esmeralda to her mother, "When are we going home to Cordoba?"
"I don't know," responded her mother, holding her daughter by putting her right arm around the little one's shoulders. Her father still said nothing.
The road was bumpy and the truck was cold. They had been packed with five or six other families, all with socialist leanings, or at least not sufficiently pro-regime for the liking of those in Buenos Aires.
"But I want to go home!"
"I hope we will. I really do."
After a long time they were stopped at a checkpoint. There was mumbling between the driver and the guards. The truck cruised in.
"Get out! Get out and stand in line!" called out a soldier's voice. They did as they were told.
The only lights were large overhead lights, most likely for aircraft.
They stood in line. The soldier inspected them, calling them by name from a paper roster. "Jimenez! Schiaparelli! Mendez! Bruckner!" And then they came to her father.
Her father stood straight up, defiant in the little way he could be. "Ormanni!"
"Aqui!"
Esmeralda was scared. She saw the gun he poked her father with, the bayonet not stabbing him but grazing him.
She was mad. She did not like it when a man in a uniform poked her father with a bayonet.
She knew that when she was mad she could do things that most people couldn't do.
The soldier felt a twitch in both his hands. His face jolted towards the rifle. It was shaking in his hand, uncontrollably.
He let out a swear. "Esmeralda! No! Not hear!" screamed her father. "You'll have us all killed!"
"But he touched you!" she declared angrily, her young age notwithstanding.
The soldier tried to pull the rifle on her, but it continued shaking.
It collapsed into a pile of parts, ripped asunder by nothing but mind.
"What are you?" the soldier screamed. "Support! I need support!"
More soldiers came running out, guns at the ready.
She did not like them and their guns and how they took her parents and her and stuffed them in a truck and made them sit for hours with no windows as they drove to Patagonia. She did not like how they made her proud father weep at the abuse they put him through to secure him in the truck. She did not like the humiliation and the beatings and the swear words and the kidnapping.
She focused. Controlling too many things at once was hard. She could rip apart their guns one by one but it would take too long.
None of the soldiers expected to see the truck they had been shunted in to go to this place hover into the air and then crash with a terrible noise, impaling many soldiers under its sheer mass. The truck hovered again, crashed again, and repeated this several times.
Now the siren rang out. She did not like the noise. She looked at a barracks of some type, and in her fury was able to rip it from its foundation.
The other barracks did not stay up for much longer, and neither did the soldiers stay alive for too long. Yes, more came, but they fell too.
The fire rose, and Esmeralda kept finding more soldiers and more things to lift up and smash.
They had made her mad and they would not go unpunished.
More fire. She saw a truck with a fluid tank of some sort behind it, unmarked but clearly for a liquid. She smashed it down, and the fire went higher and higher several yards away.
She dispatched of anyone else she could find and continued wandering.
As the attackers fell, she remembered her parents; it was for them after all she had ripped this place asunder.
She looked for them but could not find them. "Mama! Papa! Where are you?"
Her ability to focus diminished and she ran to find them. No more trucks or buildings flew, but the flames grew higher and higher. She screamed for her family.
The stench of the corpses blended with the smell of smoke to form a putrid odor wherever she went. She trampled over body after body, and tried to find them.
Then she found them, victims of her own anger. They lay there dead just like everyone else.
She only then realized what her rage had done. She then knew why her parents had cautioned her not to use her abilities, pleading to her when the police had come to stuff her in the truck.
She cried and cried, since the only real friends she had were gone; nobody else understood her 'gifts,' or so that is what it seemed when her schoolmates were scared of her, but nevertheless kept her abilities unknown from the general public.
She sat there, among her parents' corpses, and wept.
The flames died down amidst a faint hum in the distance. The hum grew louder, but she did not focus. She could not muster the energy or the concentration to rip whatever was coming apart.
There was footsteps and chatter. A hand laid itself on her shoulder.
"Come now, little girl," the man in the uniform said, "Buenos Aires is very interested in you."
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lordroel
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Post by lordroel on May 25, 2017 5:05:06 GMT
Somewhere in remote Patagonia 1980 "Mama?" asked Esmeralda to her mother, "When are we going home to Cordoba?" "I don't know," responded her mother, holding her daughter by putting her right arm around the little one's shoulders. Her father still said nothing. The road was bumpy and the truck was cold. They had been packed with five or six other families, all with socialist leanings, or at least not sufficiently pro-regime for the liking of those in Buenos Aires. "But I want to go home!" "I hope we will. I really do." After a long time they were stopped at a checkpoint. There was mumbling between the driver and the guards. The truck cruised in. "Get out! Get out and stand in line!" called out a soldier's voice. They did as they were told. The only lights were large overhead lights, most likely for aircraft. They stood in line. The soldier inspected them, calling them by name from a paper roster. "Jimenez! Schiaparelli! Mendez! Bruckner!" And then they came to her father. Her father stood straight up, defiant in the little way he could be. "Ormanni!" " Aqui!" Esmeralda was scared. She saw the gun he poked her father with, the bayonet not stabbing him but grazing him. She was mad. She did not like it when a man in a uniform poked her father with a bayonet. She knew that when she was mad she could do things that most people couldn't do. The soldier felt a twitch in both his hands. His face jolted towards the rifle. It was shaking in his hand, uncontrollably. He let out a swear. "Esmeralda! No! Not hear!" screamed her father. "You'll have us all killed!" "But he touched you!" she declared angrily, her young age notwithstanding. The soldier tried to pull the rifle on her, but it continued shaking. It collapsed into a pile of parts, ripped asunder by nothing but mind. "What are you?" the soldier screamed. "Support! I need support!" More soldiers came running out, guns at the ready. She did not like them and their guns and how they took her parents and her and stuffed them in a truck and made them sit for hours with no windows as they drove to Patagonia. She did not like how they made her proud father weep at the abuse they put him through to secure him in the truck. She did not like the humiliation and the beatings and the swear words and the kidnapping. She focused. Controlling too many things at once was hard. She could rip apart their guns one by one but it would take too long. None of the soldiers expected to see the truck they had been shunted in to go to this place hover into the air and then crash with a terrible noise, impaling many soldiers under its sheer mass. The truck hovered again, crashed again, and repeated this several times. Now the siren rang out. She did not like the noise. She looked at a barracks of some type, and in her fury was able to rip it from its foundation. The other barracks did not stay up for much longer, and neither did the soldiers stay alive for too long. Yes, more came, but they fell too. The fire rose, and Esmeralda kept finding more soldiers and more things to lift up and smash. They had made her mad and they would not go unpunished. More fire. She saw a truck with a fluid tank of some sort behind it, unmarked but clearly for a liquid. She smashed it down, and the fire went higher and higher several yards away. She dispatched of anyone else she could find and continued wandering. As the attackers fell, she remembered her parents; it was for them after all she had ripped this place asunder. She looked for them but could not find them. "Mama! Papa! Where are you?" Her ability to focus diminished and she ran to find them. No more trucks or buildings flew, but the flames grew higher and higher. She screamed for her family. The stench of the corpses blended with the smell of smoke to form a putrid odor wherever she went. She trampled over body after body, and tried to find them. Then she found them, victims of her own anger. They lay there dead just like everyone else. She only then realized what her rage had done. She then knew why her parents had cautioned her not to use her abilities, pleading to her when the police had come to stuff her in the truck. She cried and cried, since the only real friends she had were gone; nobody else understood her 'gifts,' or so that is what it seemed when her schoolmates were scared of her, but nevertheless kept her abilities unknown from the general public. She sat there, among her parents' corpses, and wept. The flames died down amidst a faint hum in the distance. The hum grew louder, but she did not focus. She could not muster the energy or the concentration to rip whatever was coming apart. There was footsteps and chatter. A hand laid itself on her shoulder. "Come now, little girl," the man in the uniform said, "Buenos Aires is very interested in you." I wonder if the little girl is something like a mutant. |
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spanishspy
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Post by spanishspy on May 25, 2017 5:20:46 GMT
Somewhere in remote Patagonia 1980 "Mama?" asked Esmeralda to her mother, "When are we going home to Cordoba?" "I don't know," responded her mother, holding her daughter by putting her right arm around the little one's shoulders. Her father still said nothing. The road was bumpy and the truck was cold. They had been packed with five or six other families, all with socialist leanings, or at least not sufficiently pro-regime for the liking of those in Buenos Aires. "But I want to go home!" "I hope we will. I really do." After a long time they were stopped at a checkpoint. There was mumbling between the driver and the guards. The truck cruised in. "Get out! Get out and stand in line!" called out a soldier's voice. They did as they were told. The only lights were large overhead lights, most likely for aircraft. They stood in line. The soldier inspected them, calling them by name from a paper roster. "Jimenez! Schiaparelli! Mendez! Bruckner!" And then they came to her father. Her father stood straight up, defiant in the little way he could be. "Ormanni!" " Aqui!" Esmeralda was scared. She saw the gun he poked her father with, the bayonet not stabbing him but grazing him. She was mad. She did not like it when a man in a uniform poked her father with a bayonet. She knew that when she was mad she could do things that most people couldn't do. The soldier felt a twitch in both his hands. His face jolted towards the rifle. It was shaking in his hand, uncontrollably. He let out a swear. "Esmeralda! No! Not hear!" screamed her father. "You'll have us all killed!" "But he touched you!" she declared angrily, her young age notwithstanding. The soldier tried to pull the rifle on her, but it continued shaking. It collapsed into a pile of parts, ripped asunder by nothing but mind. "What are you?" the soldier screamed. "Support! I need support!" More soldiers came running out, guns at the ready. She did not like them and their guns and how they took her parents and her and stuffed them in a truck and made them sit for hours with no windows as they drove to Patagonia. She did not like how they made her proud father weep at the abuse they put him through to secure him in the truck. She did not like the humiliation and the beatings and the swear words and the kidnapping. She focused. Controlling too many things at once was hard. She could rip apart their guns one by one but it would take too long. None of the soldiers expected to see the truck they had been shunted in to go to this place hover into the air and then crash with a terrible noise, impaling many soldiers under its sheer mass. The truck hovered again, crashed again, and repeated this several times. Now the siren rang out. She did not like the noise. She looked at a barracks of some type, and in her fury was able to rip it from its foundation. The other barracks did not stay up for much longer, and neither did the soldiers stay alive for too long. Yes, more came, but they fell too. The fire rose, and Esmeralda kept finding more soldiers and more things to lift up and smash. They had made her mad and they would not go unpunished. More fire. She saw a truck with a fluid tank of some sort behind it, unmarked but clearly for a liquid. She smashed it down, and the fire went higher and higher several yards away. She dispatched of anyone else she could find and continued wandering. As the attackers fell, she remembered her parents; it was for them after all she had ripped this place asunder. She looked for them but could not find them. "Mama! Papa! Where are you?" Her ability to focus diminished and she ran to find them. No more trucks or buildings flew, but the flames grew higher and higher. She screamed for her family. The stench of the corpses blended with the smell of smoke to form a putrid odor wherever she went. She trampled over body after body, and tried to find them. Then she found them, victims of her own anger. They lay there dead just like everyone else. She only then realized what her rage had done. She then knew why her parents had cautioned her not to use her abilities, pleading to her when the police had come to stuff her in the truck. She cried and cried, since the only real friends she had were gone; nobody else understood her 'gifts,' or so that is what it seemed when her schoolmates were scared of her, but nevertheless kept her abilities unknown from the general public. She sat there, among her parents' corpses, and wept. The flames died down amidst a faint hum in the distance. The hum grew louder, but she did not focus. She could not muster the energy or the concentration to rip whatever was coming apart. There was footsteps and chatter. A hand laid itself on her shoulder. "Come now, little girl," the man in the uniform said, "Buenos Aires is very interested in you." I wonder if the little girl is something like a mutant. I wonder if the little girl is something like a mutant. She's certainly ... special. |
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lordroel
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Post by lordroel on May 25, 2017 5:24:49 GMT
I wonder if the little girl is something like a mutant. I wonder if the little girl is something like a mutant. She's certainly ... special. Well it seems the Argentina government also feels she is special. |
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stevep
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Post by stevep on May 25, 2017 14:36:56 GMT
She's certainly ... special. Well it seems the Argentina government also feels she is special. Which is bad for her and depending on how she's handled either the Argentinian government [and possibly people] or their opponents. [Normally I would expect her to be hostile to them but the shock of killing her own parents could well leave her vulnerable to manipulation as well as probably less than stable so things could get very ugly.] Unless of course they already have some other characters who can do something like mind control or adjusting of memory. |
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lordroel
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Post by lordroel on May 25, 2017 15:54:06 GMT
Well it seems the Argentina government also feels she is special. Which is bad for her and depending on how she's handled either the Argentinian government [and possibly people] or their opponents. [Normally I would expect her to be hostile to them but the shock of killing her own parents could well leave her vulnerable to manipulation as well as probably less than stable so things could get very ugly.] Unless of course they already have some other characters who can do something like mind control or adjusting of memory. Also depends on what kind of goverment Argentina has, a regime like OTL during the Falklands War or a somewhat democratie goverment. |
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stevep
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Post by stevep on May 25, 2017 21:39:42 GMT
Which is bad for her and depending on how she's handled either the Argentinian government [and possibly people] or their opponents. [Normally I would expect her to be hostile to them but the shock of killing her own parents could well leave her vulnerable to manipulation as well as probably less than stable so things could get very ugly.] Unless of course they already have some other characters who can do something like mind control or adjusting of memory. Also depends on what kind of goverment Argentina has, a regime like OTL during the Falklands War or a somewhat democratie goverment. Judging by what seemed to be a round-up of left wing elements, with Esmeralda's parents not sounding particularly revolutionary, I suspect its fairly autocratic. |
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spanishspy
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Post by spanishspy on May 26, 2017 2:20:49 GMT
Also depends on what kind of goverment Argentina has, a regime like OTL during the Falklands War or a somewhat democratie goverment. Judging by what seemed to be a round-up of left wing elements, with Esmeralda's parents not sounding particularly revolutionary, I suspect its fairly autocratic. For the record, this is set during the Dirty War; Esmeralda is one of the children described under the "Children of the Disappeared" subheading. Additionally there will be another update tonight. |
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spanishspy
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Post by spanishspy on May 26, 2017 3:42:38 GMT
1982 "This is what we have trained you to do for two years now," said Fernandez. The small boat swayed back and forth, moving ever outward. Behind them were the larger ships. "Mr. Fernandez," asked Esmeralda, "how do we know the bad guys are there?" "We had planes search for them, and they were found by the men in the planes." Fernandez paused, and let the boat continue on. "So I know you know what you're doing," Fernandez asked, "how do you know who the bad guys are?" "The ones with the flags with all the crosses, and the planes with the blue and red circles." "Good job, Esmeralda!" gleefully remarked Fernandez. "Now go on with the little boat we gave you, and head out, and do what we told you to do." "Yes, sir," responded Esmeralda. She took her 'boat,' really just a metal craft that could fit one person, and pushed it towards the 'bad guys' she was told to obliterate. ...
Near the Falkland Islands HMS Hermes
The air in this cold, desolate part of the world was not merely freezing; it almost exuded futility. They had lost the Sheffield after they had sunk the Belgrano, and now, for some reason, the Argentinians were being almost too risky with their Air Force. They were looking for the Hermes, the flagship, and it had been ordered that the Royal Navy ships should advance slowly with the intent to destroy any ship or plane that the Argentinians could throw at them. Nobody thought that they could beat the Empire on which the Sun never Set (and it still didn't, even in 1982!). Their radar had detected, and aircraft confirmed, that there was a large formation of ships operating far out from Argentine soil in an attempt to destroy the core of the British fleet. They were coming. The alarms sounded, and the ships were primed for combat. But they saw nothing. A few specks of what appeared to be driftwood, but that happened every now and then. A large creaking noise, and some splashes. That was abnormal. Up from its watery position rose one of the ships, to the complete shock of those aboard the Hermes. A flying ship? Impossible! No Royal Navy ship could fly! But nevertheless it did. Radio transmissions were awash in panic. How was this possible? It was, somehow, and the ship slowly moved, not reorienting itself, towards the center of the formation. The creaking got louder and louder, and the Bristol was ripped in half right before their eyes. The Hermes and the other carrier, the Invincible, deployed their air fleets. As they extended their view into the surrounding sea, they began colliding together seemingly without reason, being jolted around by an outside force. Another ship rose, into the air, the Fearless, which careened as if a missile into the Intrepid. There was absolute panic. Absolute mayhem. Then the Invincible itself began to rise. The few planes that hadn't been launched began falling overboard, as did several sailors. And as if it were the largest projectile in history, it rammed into the Hermes, sinking the flagship of the British fleet. ...
Esmeralda was close to passing out. The effort had been so much. Too much. She lay back on her small craft and almost fell asleep. But Fernandez was there, to critique her. "Esmeralda! Brilliant show!" he exclaimed. "Thank you, Mr. Fernandez," she responded, trying to stay awake. "No, don't struggle, rest. When we get back to Buenos Aires, Mr. Galtieri and Mr. Anaya would love to see you, and so will your brothers and sisters!" |
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