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Tuesday, May 12, 2020

Legends #1 - The First Legend [#176]

           Welcome to my latest addition to the blog, Legends, a superhero themed anthology telling stories that originate from a singular world. Think of it as a miniature comic book universe that touches on every aspect of super heroes through short stories. What better place to start this universe then at the beginning?
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           It was another afternoon on the busy city street I grew up on. The road was filled with several cars, it seemed like there are more and more of them every day. The streets were lined with dozens of people, dressed their finest and nothing less. The recovery from our most challenging time had only just begun, some had flourished, but many were still knee-deep in the depression.
           I had loved this place so much as a child, those roaring times seem almost like idyllic fantasies now. Money was never a problem, the stores were always open, people smiled and cheered like they had no worries. I can recall it clear as day, my young self full of energy, running down to the general store. The cheerful owner would slip me a piece of candy and tell me some amusing stories about cowboys and masked gunslingers. What a time to be alive.
           Then it all changed so quickly, everything came crashing down, and suddenly money was a problem. One by one, the stores were forced to shut their doors, and nobody could find the strength to even grin. Even the owner of the general store looked so tired despite his best efforts. Most saw strife and pain, but some only saw opportunity.
           As everyone fell on hard times, a few decided anything was fair. As the streets cracked and eroded from lack of maintenance, the same happened to many people’s morals. There were always those who skirted the law to suit their own needs, but it seemed like they were more prominent than ever. Crooks and gangs became a common sight, never quite lingering, but it was never entirely safe. It became a regular occurrence for money to change hands, by force or intimidation.
           It was that time of the month, the owner of the general store on the corner counted his meager profits. His business was one of the last still standing from the good times, and he had barely chugged along. Then like every month, some shady character slipped into the store and put a gun to the poor man’s head. The crook demanded all the money the owner had, and the poor owner had no choice but to acquiesce.
           I saw this happen a dozen times, and each time made my blood boil more. I can still recall the first time I saw it, I was still quite young but nearing adulthood. That first crook slipped inside sweating bullets. I remember that desperate and panicked look in his eye, made me wonder what his problem was until he pulled out the gun. The store owner simply froze that first time, he assured the man he didn’t want any trouble. I wanted to stop the crook, I so desperately wanted to help the owner, but that first one swatted me to the side as he took the money and ran.
           I was told then I was foolish, I could have been hurt, I could have been killed. It was nice of me to be brave, but this was no western, and I was no pulp hero. The owner assured me it would be fine, times were tough, but he could manage. I remembered that, as I watched the present events, seeing him empty out the last of his savings into the most recent crooks bag. I tightened my fist, today was the day I finally did something.
           I emerged from the shadows dressed in my sharp suit, a large domino mask, a slick cowboy hat, and a thin cape. The crook didn’t notice me until I put my own weapon to the back of his head. I couldn’t see his face, but his body language betrayed his surprise. The general store owner was equally surprised by my presence. I was careful enough to obscure my face from him.
           “Leave the poor man alone,” I commanded in a deep voice.
           “I don’t want any trouble,” the crook assured me, “but don’t you try anything, or I’ll shoot him.” The owner’s eyes went wide at the threat, but I simply glared.
           “You’ve chosen poorly,” I pulled the trigger, but instead of a bullet, my weapon released a spray of gas. The crook’s surprise magnified as he collapsed to the ground paralyzed, his gun slipping from his hand. I kicked the weapon away and stood over the defeated criminal. “This part of town is under my protection, got it?” That pained look in the crook’s eyes told me everything I needed to know, and as quickly as I came, I dashed away.
           It wasn’t long before the police were called to the scene, but I was long gone by then. As I observed the commotion from the shadows across the street, my heart raced with excitement, my first day was a complete success. Nothing big, nothing grand, just helping the little guy. I can only hope my second goes as well.
           As I returned to the shadows, I kept my ears open in the following weeks, rumors about the “Masked Man” spread quickly. Mostly from the shopkeeper and several eyewitnesses who saw me flee the store. The police around here aren’t the biggest fans of vigilantes, but in these hard times, I’m sure they’ll appreciate the help.
...And so the legends begin...

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All it takes to do good in this world is the desire to make a positive change and the will to carry it out. (But a couple of cool gadgets help.)

I've been sitting on this idea for a long while (a really long while), and I'm really excited to finally have it started. This will (hopefully) become a reoccurring segment on this blog, but unlike my other anthologies, all the stories from this one will be part of a single shared universe (broadly speaking). Look forward to more in the near and far future.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy
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