[spoiler]<o1 Valor>
“Wake up, Vance. Please, wake up.”
An echo of an alarm blared toward the sleeping eardrums of the professor as 6am came full circle, a mirror image of days prior where Vance McCoy would slowly open his clear blue vision towards the waiting face of his wife. Today had been no exception; his bright hues immediately finding quieted solace in the face of the blond female next to him. Of course a hand moved to stroke her cheek, his visage patiently edging closer towards the fair skinned figure until her fragile vanilla fragrance became intoxicating. Lips quivering, Vance waited there, so close yet so far – unable to close that hairs width of a gap between them. Not out of respect for her personal space, and not out of love… Vance couldn’t kiss the sleeping Noel out of fear. After all, Noel wasn’t real. At least, not in the fashion he needed her most.
“I know.” Came the obligatory response, just a soft utterance before the scientist found himself pulling away to sprawl on his back. “Just need a moment to collect myself.” Outside the far window came the usual welcoming traffic of a busy metropolis morning, complete with cars honking and distant construction. Though the couple had lived high above the usually loud cityscape, there was still that time in the day when the entire world seemed just below them, loud and constant, which generally assured Vance wouldn’t be sleeping in. Even if he did, his dreams would work against him, and the deceptive persona he now harbored would be there – if not to mock him, to silently torture his already strained heart. Imaginary friends were supposed to be things children dealt with, not fully grown men with their masters in molecular biology. Some would say Vance had snapped when Noel was murdered, but in all truth, he’d been slipping for some time. That just acted as a catalyst; the gateway to his odd behavior, and it worked to equip him with a sense of understanding as to why he still saw her.
He needed Noel, and his mind did just what it needed to do to keep her around.
So the fictitious doppelganger remained a perfect replica of his deceased spouse, with honey blond hair and pale green eyes and a smile that seemed to dash all the discontent in a situation. It had been a long time since she first appeared and it had been just as long since Vance had tried to will her away. Now she just was. Rising from the sheets without much resistance from the female, there was no more to be said between them. The morning worked to keep the two apart. Coffee was made, a shower was had and steps were taken from one end of the spacious apartment to the other, but Noel didn’t seem to want to take part in anything to do with the morning schedule. As if still tired, she remained in the swath of sheets until Vance was entirely dressed and ready to leave, which seemed to trigger response from the ghost. “Will you be speaking at this university function?” The question came in a whisper, her pink lips curled into the barest smile as her eyes worked him over. They both had been present when Vance had agreed to attend the event at the University, so the answer didn’t need to be said, but it was often a sign that the imaginary Noel was trying to be thoughtful. After all, real Noel would have asked, even if she knew the answer prior.
“Will you be coming?” He bypassed her initial inquiry with one of his own, his hands still busying themselves to push out any wrinkles in his blazer. Noel gave a nod as she appeared near him in matching attire, a navy blue dress with beige heels gracing her figure so the two became almost the same height, save the inch of so difference Vance retained. “I called a car to pick us up. I believe it should be here by now…” Pausing, Vance took out a small Bluetooth headset and placed it firmly in his ear, which was something he did out of habit by this time in his life. One looked rather silly talking to themselves, as it were, so he figured he could pass off any conversation he had with the imaginary Noel as one with a distant phone contact. Usually worked, save one or two times when he’d forgotten to actually wear the device – but he’d gotten past the weirdness at this point. Vance had been at the game too long to slip up again.
“I have a bad feeling about today.” Noel said as the two stepped out of their home and began the trip towards the ground floor. “I can feel it in the air. Something…” She eventually trailed off when Vance nodded in agreement, his face a mask of stoicism as though it didn’t matter one way or another. Still, Noel was simply speaking his inner dialogue and she brought up a point that soon became apparent: Something was very off about today. It was only when they had reached the ground floor that the earth seemed to shake beneath them, a distant quake that vibrated up through Vance’s feet towards his middle and top, causing him to grunt and grab the female with him as though aiming to hold her tight through the violent shaking. Noel gave a sigh, face turning into his chest as the cityscape before them distorted and what had been Metropolis was replaced by the image of shadowed figures and cheers of excitement. Vance closed his eyes tight as a rush of wind whipped at the two figures, and in such, Noel too was sightless to the change that occurred in their setting. At least until they had fully materialized and Vance was donning his heavy metal plating, helmet and goggles included.
The Cryomancer was a behemoth in the gear, towering another several inches above the image of Noel, whose eyed were now wide in shock. Forget the two had been teleported to some strange arena with stone podium steps jutting from a watery ground level, and forget the ominous presence of chains and blood splatter that decorated the arena; instead Vance had chosen to focus on himself and Noel, and eventually the dark haired female who stood a few yards away. Was this her doing? He knew of the brotherhood in a sense that he had worked with Circe before in the past – but he didn’t recognize this girl and it wasn’t as though he’d have appreciated being summoned in such a light even if he had. A frown covered his face from behind the thick glass of his helm, the cold already exuding from his core to ice the inner layers of the suit in a preliminary glaze. He’d had asked just what was going on, the words at the tip of his tongue, but someone else spoke first and Vance could only strain to catch every detail of the message as the words boomed across the arena.
"Welcome, champions! I am the Master of Games, and you are hereby invited to compete in the Tournament of Heroes! Rest assured, when the tournament is complete, there will be magnificent prizes. And, of course, the winner will prove they are the most powerful metahuman on Earth. The losers will be sent home. Remember, winning is not everything. But it is the only thing that matters. Now, the tournament begins! Prepare for competition!"
Metahuman? He’d never thought of himself as much more than a talented individual whose powers came at the price of great loss – but then again, Vance had better things to do than dwell on the supernatural aspects of his life. The frown remained tight over his lips, testament to the displeasure felt over his kidnapping, since he hadn’t volunteered to be a fighter in this tournament. It was only when the female with the dark hair spoke that Vance was compelled to let his posture slacken, his grip on Noel released so the ghost could hop a few podiums away to watch. “Is that how you handle major problems? You get kidnapped and told to duke it out with a stranger, so you willingly do so? Maybe you should crawl back into your bottle. Doesn’t seem you have much use outside of it.” His tone was calm, but obviously peppered with hints at his infuriation towards being abducted. Noel acted as his eyes on the far end, taking in the various obstacles of the arena while Vance seemed put off and willing to argue with whoever this drunkard he’d been paired against was. The professor really didn’t like the idea of hitting a woman, but after an occasion when Circe tried to spike his drink, he’d learned it was occasionally necessary to discipline the fairer sex.
“Now you can either tell me what you know so we can get out of here, or you can try and take me here. Either way, I’m more worried about your safety than my own.”[/spoiler]
“Wake up, Vance. Please, wake up.”
An echo of an alarm blared toward the sleeping eardrums of the professor as 6am came full circle, a mirror image of days prior where Vance McCoy would slowly open his clear blue vision towards the waiting face of his wife. Today had been no exception; his bright hues immediately finding quieted solace in the face of the blond female next to him. Of course a hand moved to stroke her cheek, his visage patiently edging closer towards the fair skinned figure until her fragile vanilla fragrance became intoxicating. Lips quivering, Vance waited there, so close yet so far – unable to close that hairs width of a gap between them. Not out of respect for her personal space, and not out of love… Vance couldn’t kiss the sleeping Noel out of fear. After all, Noel wasn’t real. At least, not in the fashion he needed her most.
“I know.” Came the obligatory response, just a soft utterance before the scientist found himself pulling away to sprawl on his back. “Just need a moment to collect myself.” Outside the far window came the usual welcoming traffic of a busy metropolis morning, complete with cars honking and distant construction. Though the couple had lived high above the usually loud cityscape, there was still that time in the day when the entire world seemed just below them, loud and constant, which generally assured Vance wouldn’t be sleeping in. Even if he did, his dreams would work against him, and the deceptive persona he now harbored would be there – if not to mock him, to silently torture his already strained heart. Imaginary friends were supposed to be things children dealt with, not fully grown men with their masters in molecular biology. Some would say Vance had snapped when Noel was murdered, but in all truth, he’d been slipping for some time. That just acted as a catalyst; the gateway to his odd behavior, and it worked to equip him with a sense of understanding as to why he still saw her.
He needed Noel, and his mind did just what it needed to do to keep her around.
So the fictitious doppelganger remained a perfect replica of his deceased spouse, with honey blond hair and pale green eyes and a smile that seemed to dash all the discontent in a situation. It had been a long time since she first appeared and it had been just as long since Vance had tried to will her away. Now she just was. Rising from the sheets without much resistance from the female, there was no more to be said between them. The morning worked to keep the two apart. Coffee was made, a shower was had and steps were taken from one end of the spacious apartment to the other, but Noel didn’t seem to want to take part in anything to do with the morning schedule. As if still tired, she remained in the swath of sheets until Vance was entirely dressed and ready to leave, which seemed to trigger response from the ghost. “Will you be speaking at this university function?” The question came in a whisper, her pink lips curled into the barest smile as her eyes worked him over. They both had been present when Vance had agreed to attend the event at the University, so the answer didn’t need to be said, but it was often a sign that the imaginary Noel was trying to be thoughtful. After all, real Noel would have asked, even if she knew the answer prior.
“Will you be coming?” He bypassed her initial inquiry with one of his own, his hands still busying themselves to push out any wrinkles in his blazer. Noel gave a nod as she appeared near him in matching attire, a navy blue dress with beige heels gracing her figure so the two became almost the same height, save the inch of so difference Vance retained. “I called a car to pick us up. I believe it should be here by now…” Pausing, Vance took out a small Bluetooth headset and placed it firmly in his ear, which was something he did out of habit by this time in his life. One looked rather silly talking to themselves, as it were, so he figured he could pass off any conversation he had with the imaginary Noel as one with a distant phone contact. Usually worked, save one or two times when he’d forgotten to actually wear the device – but he’d gotten past the weirdness at this point. Vance had been at the game too long to slip up again.
“I have a bad feeling about today.” Noel said as the two stepped out of their home and began the trip towards the ground floor. “I can feel it in the air. Something…” She eventually trailed off when Vance nodded in agreement, his face a mask of stoicism as though it didn’t matter one way or another. Still, Noel was simply speaking his inner dialogue and she brought up a point that soon became apparent: Something was very off about today. It was only when they had reached the ground floor that the earth seemed to shake beneath them, a distant quake that vibrated up through Vance’s feet towards his middle and top, causing him to grunt and grab the female with him as though aiming to hold her tight through the violent shaking. Noel gave a sigh, face turning into his chest as the cityscape before them distorted and what had been Metropolis was replaced by the image of shadowed figures and cheers of excitement. Vance closed his eyes tight as a rush of wind whipped at the two figures, and in such, Noel too was sightless to the change that occurred in their setting. At least until they had fully materialized and Vance was donning his heavy metal plating, helmet and goggles included.
The Cryomancer was a behemoth in the gear, towering another several inches above the image of Noel, whose eyed were now wide in shock. Forget the two had been teleported to some strange arena with stone podium steps jutting from a watery ground level, and forget the ominous presence of chains and blood splatter that decorated the arena; instead Vance had chosen to focus on himself and Noel, and eventually the dark haired female who stood a few yards away. Was this her doing? He knew of the brotherhood in a sense that he had worked with Circe before in the past – but he didn’t recognize this girl and it wasn’t as though he’d have appreciated being summoned in such a light even if he had. A frown covered his face from behind the thick glass of his helm, the cold already exuding from his core to ice the inner layers of the suit in a preliminary glaze. He’d had asked just what was going on, the words at the tip of his tongue, but someone else spoke first and Vance could only strain to catch every detail of the message as the words boomed across the arena.
"Welcome, champions! I am the Master of Games, and you are hereby invited to compete in the Tournament of Heroes! Rest assured, when the tournament is complete, there will be magnificent prizes. And, of course, the winner will prove they are the most powerful metahuman on Earth. The losers will be sent home. Remember, winning is not everything. But it is the only thing that matters. Now, the tournament begins! Prepare for competition!"
Metahuman? He’d never thought of himself as much more than a talented individual whose powers came at the price of great loss – but then again, Vance had better things to do than dwell on the supernatural aspects of his life. The frown remained tight over his lips, testament to the displeasure felt over his kidnapping, since he hadn’t volunteered to be a fighter in this tournament. It was only when the female with the dark hair spoke that Vance was compelled to let his posture slacken, his grip on Noel released so the ghost could hop a few podiums away to watch. “Is that how you handle major problems? You get kidnapped and told to duke it out with a stranger, so you willingly do so? Maybe you should crawl back into your bottle. Doesn’t seem you have much use outside of it.” His tone was calm, but obviously peppered with hints at his infuriation towards being abducted. Noel acted as his eyes on the far end, taking in the various obstacles of the arena while Vance seemed put off and willing to argue with whoever this drunkard he’d been paired against was. The professor really didn’t like the idea of hitting a woman, but after an occasion when Circe tried to spike his drink, he’d learned it was occasionally necessary to discipline the fairer sex.
“Now you can either tell me what you know so we can get out of here, or you can try and take me here. Either way, I’m more worried about your safety than my own.”[/spoiler]
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.