True Blues (closed)

Millenium City.

The shining jewel of the Eastern Seaboard, built as a model city for the new millennium. Unveiled formally at the stroke of midnight, January 1, 2000, the city was supposed to be an example of humanities greatest accomplishments and a model of what a city could be if based on the latest technologies. Towering buildings that dwarfed the latest skyscrapers filled the skyline. A public transportation system that ran with the efficiency and timing of a Swiss watch. The latest in policing and public safety equipment brought the crime rate down. Utilities that had a virtual non-existent carbon foot print. It was a dream city.

It was also built as a launching point of the newly formed Super-Powered Alliance. The alliance was born out of need 40 years ago. Not long after WWII, a group of space-faring aliens saw a broken planet, ripe for conquest. A new day was born, Encounter Day, when the skies filled with interplanetary ships that looked akin to the designs that filled the minds of the sci-fi authors and film makers. Encounter Day was also when the world learned that the Earth was not so easily conquered. The sky also filled with men and women from all walks of life and background as the Supers took to defending their home. Many had avoided the war, opting to keep quiet lest a new sort of arms race was started. In the face of a planetary threat, however, they could be silent no longer.

The months that followed tested the resolve of a generation that had grown up in the scars of a World War. Now, they were fighting their own. Humanity was united in a way it never was before. In the end, the Supers tipped the balance and won the day. The skies have not been darkened ever since. In the wreckage of the war, however, new sciences started to bloom, salvaged from their would-be tyrants. Breakthroughs in fusion power, anti-gravity, matter replication among others ushered in a Second Renaissance for humanity. The culmination of that wave of discovery was Millennium City.

It is a test case: a program to see if the model they built could work. Over 16 years later, and mankind is hopeful about its future as Millennium City continues to thrive. It has not been without its problems, however. Megalomaniacs and terrorists seeking political change see Millennium City as a target, a beacon to tear down as a show of their power. When such people attack, the duty of protecting the city falls to the 4 people that make up The Initiative.

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Paul Kerran walked out onto the deck of his high rise apartment, the ping from his communicator unit still ringing out from his wrist. One last adjustment of his mask and a push of a button and he began to hover slightly before shooting off across the city. The field of slightly purplish energy pulsed around him as he looked down at the streets below. He loved flying; he just wasn't born with it like some people. His anti-grav belt made up for his genetic make-up and sent him humming through the air. Tapping his wrist to shut off the communication unit, he radioed ahead to headquarters.

"This is the inimitable Capt. Infinium checking in. It's a lovely day in the Thousand Year City; temperature is a cool 57 degrees and traffic is light on the cross-town thoroughfare. We're gonna keep it light and breezy with Sailin' by Christopher Cross..." Paul said in his best radio DJ voice before tapping his unique communicator to bring up the song in question from his playlist to pipe it to the others on the Initiative band. He smiled, curious how long Rampart was going to let him play it before kicking him off the line as he flew towards base.

He knew that things weren't going to be light for long; they only got called in like this if there was an imminent threat. He hoped that his team was up for it yet again. After the attempted bombing at the football game last month, he was starting to see signs that people's nerves were starting to fray. Maybe the time off had helped cool things down. Maybe Rampart and Electra had gotten over whatever trouble they were having and they could focus again. It wasn't going to be too great if it had gone the other way. Either way he was about to find out as he saw his landing pad coming up ahead. Landing light as a leaf on the breeze, Paul flicked off the power button on his belt and walked toward the door. He wasn't sure how, but everyone had beaten him to the debriefing, even that weasel from the Alliance. Agent Tansden was standing there and conspicuously looked at his watch as Paul took his place around the table with everyone.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm here, let's get this thing going already. Time is wasting." Paul said, lamenting the fact that they needed Tansden at all. As they sat and listened to him start talking about... whatever, Paul looked over at Electra and Rampart. He had to know how things were between the two of them before they did anything with this information being vomited at them by Tansden.

Electra and Rampart

"It's finished!"

Electra grinned. She stood in front of the easel and proudly looked over the finished product. The current series was on Fairy Tales: Old & New. A look at how the stories were stark cautionary tales that became a series of happily ever after. The challenge has been creating characters that essentially looked the same and yet gave drastically different moods. It felt good. The series was finished ahead of time. She needed to take a few days off and stay away from the pieces. Come back with a fresh perspective and go over each one with a keen eye. Make sure they're what she wanted and get her assistant to call in for final framing.

She took off the long work apron and threw it on a brass hook. The poor thing started of a vibrant white but has long since been covered and turned into a motley of colors. Humming a jaunty melody, Electra cleaned up in the bathroom. She paid extra attention to make sure all of the paints were removed from her skin. Rampart hated it when he got a tongue full of leftover paint. He said it was a mood killer.

They haven't had a lot of time with each other lately. Between her day job and being a part of the Initiative that Rampart lead, there hadn't been a lot of down time for them to be together. For the past couple of months, Electra rarely was home before midnight. She'd crawl into bed, he would grumbled about her waking him up, return her light kiss and fall asleep again. Tonight, she wanted to make it up to him. Thank him for being so understanding. Being an artist was something she couldn't stop even if she wanted to. It was as much a part of her as her power. In some ways, being an artist meant more to her because it was something that she earned.

She combed her hair and the wavy brown locks up in a fashionable twist on the back of head. She pulled out strands of hair until several curls dangled around her face. Electra didn't think she was beautiful. Her features were too strong for that. She had simple brown hair that had a tendency to become lighter in the summer. Blue eyes that were so light that it almost seemed like her eyes were the palest silver or white at times. Spooky eyes. Not pretty ones. She had strong cheekbones, full lips and a cleft in the her small square chin.

Her ability didn't give her super strength, flight or anything that would be handy in a fight. She made up for that by working out and training hard to hold her own. Nothing could hide the fullness of her bosom. Developing a large chest as a young girl caused her no end of trouble. It made her appreciate those who judged her as a whole rather than a body to be possessed.

Electra put on mascara and a dark rose lip stain. She made a pouty face at herself in the mirror and laughed. There were a handful of evening wear in the closet. Sometimes she didn't have time to go back home to change before an event. She pulled out the new black dress she had bought last month. It was daring for her. A flowing black dress that left most of her back and part of her side bare. It was simple and beautiful. She loved the way the silk felt against her skin. She pulled on a pair of black heels, threw on her jacket, grabbed her bag and made her way home. She couldn't wait to surprise Rampart by coming home early tonight.

She smiled. The series was finished and she'll get to spend the night with the love of her life. She let herself into the townhouse and quietly made her way up the stairs to the main floor. She was about to call out a greeting when the faint noises she had been hearing became louder. She knew that grunt. There was no mistaking the sound of bare skin smacking together. A few hesitant steps more and she heard a female moaning between gasping puffs. Electra's hand on the banister tightened until her fingers turned white. She walked like a ghost across the living room, vaguely thinking that it was a good thing they had carpet to muffle her heels and stopped in the archway that lead into the dining room.

The island counter separated the kitchen from the dining area. Half eaten food and drinks were on the table. Rampart stood naked by the island. She could see the muscles in his body flex as he pummeled a woman who was bent over the island.

"I love fucking your ass, Lacey. It's so fucking tight around my cock!" Rampart punctuated each word with a lunging thrust. Electra could see long blonde hair fly from the force of his movements. The woman's responded by moaning her enjoyment. A distant part of Electra noted the stark contrast of Rampart's nut brown skin against the pale pink of the girl. The way his hard hands were digging into her plump rear.

The sounds of their wild sex filled the house as she moved like a ghost in her own home. She went to their room, grabbed a suitcase and threw in the most important papers and basic necessities. She went back downstairs and walked to the archway that separated the living room from the kitchen. Rampart and the girl were wrapped around each other in a passionate kiss. Her long legs hugging his hips as he held her up. He was pushing into the girl's ass, his long thick penis wet and throbbing as he entered her.

"Rampart." she said his name loudly, in a cold emotionless voice. It was like he was struck by lightning. It was almost comical how quickly he divested himself of the blonde and took a step away from her. He didn't care that she almost fell and brained her head against the island. He looked magnificent. Naked. Strong. Chest heaving from the effort of his wild sex. He looked magnificent.

She couldn't see him. Her eyes overflowing with the tears that have been silently streaking her face since she first saw his betrayal. She was crying so hard now that she couldn't see anything but a blur.

"How could you?" she whispered. She closed her eyes and opened them quickly. Blinked rapidly to clear her vision. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare try to touch me. I'm leaving. Make sure you're not here for the next few days. I'll be back in the morning to get my things."

She didn't know how she got back to the studio. She couldn't see anything but the memory of him fucking another woman in their home. No matter what she did, all she could do that night was cry as the memory repeated itself over and over again.


To: rampartd@initiative.com
From: ejakab@initiative.com
Subject: Professional

I don't want to talk about what happened. There's nothing you can say that can make what you did better. We're never going to get back together.

I am going to pack all my stuff and have it moved out of the townhouse by tomorrow night. Don't be there. I don't want to see you. I'm not going to take anything you have given me. The engagement ring will be on your desk at the house.

I am going to request reassignment to another team. Until the request is processed, I will be professional but do not push for more than that from me. The only reason I will talk to you will be about the Initiative and whatever is related to that work. Otherwise, I want limited to zero contact with you.

I don't know how I am suppose to follow you as the leader of the team when I've lost all respect for you and do not trust you. I'll work to be as professional as possible. I know my abilities are important to the team.

Don't push me, Rampart. I won't change my mind. You know how I am. You should. We've been together for almost nine years.

Once Paul took his seat, Agent Tansden started in with his briefing. Paul didn't catch many of the details; he was too distracted by the icy body language between Electra and Joseph, Rampart's real name. Last month, in the lead up to the stadium bombing, Paul remembered how stressed Electra was. The team and the bureaucracy behind the Initiative had been leaning on her and her abilities to try and figure out the target of the bombing. It wasn't Paul's place to step in, but the tension brought out how badly things ad been going between the two of them. He started considering what could have happened in the interim that may have caused things to finally snap.

Unfortunately, those thoughts would have to wait. Tansden's briefing started with a bang. The screen in the room filled with security camera footage as the Agent began providing the specifics on what they were watching.

"As you can see, the person that broke into Abbot Research Laboratories exhibited powerful mental capabilities." On the screen, the masked Super mixed some very flashy telekinetic abilities with very skillful martial arts training to disable the armed guards at the facility. For example, he sent a guard flying through a wall with a wave of his hand while holding another in a choke. The staff were all seemingly stunned, but the reality of the situation was made clear as the Agent began speaking again.

"Telekinesis and telepathy seem to be his powers of note," he began as the feed cut to another view from the lobby outside the high security wing. In the captured video, the guards had weapons leveled down a hall way as a crowd of staff members in lab coats shuffled into view. They appeared to be shouting for them to get down. The evidence of the criminal's telepathy became apparent when they did not comply; instead, they rushed the armed security, laying into them with whatever they could grab. While this went on, the masked individual walked t the door. In a display of power, he wrenched the locking double doors apart with his powers as they buckled and sparked as they slip open without him laying a hand on them or the controls.

Paul rubbed his chin, more than a little worried. This group wasn't used to dealing with this sort of power. Villains with mental powers are also very dangerous as he looked around the table at the others. If he got into one of their minds, he could use their powers against the rest. His eyes fell immediately to Electra. She wasn't as gifted as the rest of them, but her skills had proven invaluable over and over again. They would be fumbling in the dark for answers time and again if she didn't have the ability to pull images and memories from those they captured for the authorities. That was partly why he was always so worried about her when they would go out to "work".

Turning back to the screen, Tansden had popped up a device schematic on the screen. "It appears that the person of interest was after an alphawave enhancement device that the lab was working on. The idea behind the device was attempting to contact unconscious or comatose patients during care or recovery. No one is really sure what it could do in the hands of someone with this sort of power. It falls to you to track this criminal down and attempt to retrieve the device at return it to the lab so they can continue their work. Questions?" Paul rolled his eyes as the Agent stood there, looking and clearly feeling rather self-important. Paul turned to his perrsonal screen before him and was already examining the device. Neurobiology was one nut that he could not crack. Something about it was difficult for him to wrap his brain around, for lack of a better term. Designing and engineering new technologies in the energy field were like child's play since he was 18. The human body and all its complexity were just beyond his grasp for some reason. Even so, it was quite an interesting mental exercise to try and figure out how all the pieces worked together.

Eventually he left and Rampart took over the meeting. Electra looked like she was already switched off and left the table, carrying her tablet. Paul followed her across the room to their in-base computer station. It was a special terminal that linked the system to the Agency's database. It helped keep them up to date on all the latest news in the Super community. Rampart notably didn't say anything to her as she left, speaking to Paul and Blink, the 4th member of their team. As usual, she had her heavy oversized leather biker boots up on the table, showing off her striped leggings that ended beneath a pair of cutoff jean shorts. Her punk look was completed by a patched denim jacket that was 3 sizes too big for her. She might be a brat, but she was the Initiative's brat. She made a habit of showing that she thought of the team as her family, having pulled all of them out of danger through the use of her teleportation powers at one time or another. She didn't listen as Rampart started putting together a plan of action; she was content to ask what her job was when this was all wrapped up, usually to Paul.

This time, Paul didn't stick around long enough for her to ask, however. When Rampart was done talking, their leader set off to speak to their MCPD contact, Lt. Earnest Mayhew, which left Paul free to talk with Electra. Walking up beside her, he leaned in to look at what she was searching and spoke in low tones. "Anything I need to know about the two of you or are you handling it?" he asked, sounding concerned for her beyond the day to day business of the Initiative. He knew of her skills so he was always careful to keep from bumping into her; god only knows what her reaction would be if she took a look inside his head. The daydreams alone might warrant a firm slap.