Timeline is up!

We reached 150 views somewhere between 9:00 and 10:00 last night, so the first section of the timeline is posted!  You can see it here.  Also, I really want to post some of the character profiles, so vote here!



Please Vote!

There’s a poll on the character profile page, asking for who you want to see a profile of first.  Twenty votes gets the profile.  Please vote!  Also, this is a just starting story, so comments and spreading the word are greatly appreciated!

Trial By Fire I. Zeta III

A few minutes later, we were in the weight room with a good 20 other people, barricading the door to buy us time if the out of control metahuman came towards us. TMB and I knew it wouldn’t stop anything, but it could help the other people delay it long enough for the two of us to escape. As we shifted benches and stationary bikes, I heard someone say,

/We can stop him./

I looked around, but TMB didn’t seem to hear it, and nobody was reacting, so I ignored it.

/Don’t ignore me! I know you can hear me! Fuck You! Here I am, trying to help you realize your strength, and instead, you’re just, all, noooo, I’m gonna stay a fucking norm! Well, listen up! I’m talking to you!/

“What the fuck?” I said, earning a few strange looks from the surrounding meat shields.

/Look. I’m here to help you out. Realize your hidden potential and all that Yoda crap. Listen to me./

/Seriously, who are you, and why are you in my head?/

/It would be pretty weird if I wasn’t in your head./


/You see, I am YOU!/

At that point, I heard TMB talking.

“Hello? You there?”

“Shit, sorry. Talking to myself, apparently,” I responded. He stared at me, blinked, then shrugged and went back to work. Yep. My friends are fucking awesome. I continued barricading the door, and the voice continued.

/If you’ll forgive the M. Night Shyamalanian plot twist, I’m an extension of your own consciousness. I can make a sorta physical form, but I don’t feel like it yet. I know everything you know, think, yada yada. I’m you, pretty much./



/I don’t believe you./

/But it’s true! I’m your spirit! I think your thoughts, feel your feelings, emote your emotions! Right now, you’re feeling bored, and aggressive! See!/

/ I always feel like that, and make no secret of it. You’re not convincing me./

/You’re a semi-sociopathic thrill-seeking anarchist.  Your closest friend displays all the emotion of a brain-dead coma victim.  You’ve never been able to hold down a girlfriend for more than 48 hours because you’re prone to mood swings, violence, and oh yeah,  being a giant asshole./

/Fuck you./

/That would be mastrubation./

/If you’re really me, say something only I would say./

/…Fuck you./

/Ah Ha! See, You’re not me after all! But… here’s the deal. I’m sort of in a life-threatening situation, so why don’t you make yourself appear, and if you can, I’ll accept that you’re my soul or whatever./

/Spirit, really, but sure. Make me./

/You can’t appear.  So… you’re a telepath who decided to fuck with me./

/What? No! I mean, force me to appear. It’s easy, just imagine your spirit solid./

/Do I need to give it a form? Cause if I do, my spirit is gonna be a fucking dragon./

/No, I already have a form. I’m a cute, fluffy little cat that can run really fast and tear your throat out./

/Wait… So my spirit animal or whatever is a cheetah?/

/No, smaller./





/I give up./

/A serval.  Idiot./

/A what?/

/A serval. It’s a spotted cat./

/How big?/

/You’ll see./

/Or…  you could to tell me now./

/Jesus. The crap you say annoys even… you… Just go already!/

I concentrated as hard as I could. My head began to ache from the strain, but I didn’t stop. I had my eyes closed, and sweat was beading on my forehead for what must have been five minutes until I heard someone say, “So… How long is he going to stay like that?” I opened my eyes, and saw TMB sitting down and watching me. Right next to him was–

“Is that what a serval is?  It looks like a midget leopard.”

“Calm down,” gestured TMB with a wave of his hand. “He appeared, and while you were working out your poor fiber, he explained everything to me. He can appear when he wants, and chose who he is visible too. Anyone who can see him can also hear him, and if they intend no harm, touch him.”

“Huh. That’s pretty sick… except for the fact that you can’t attack people.  Or you know, do anything.” I said.



Trial By Fire I. Zeta II

When we stopped and started to turn around, we felt a wave of heat and saw a bright flash of light. When our vision cleared, there was nothing left of where we had been eating except a screaming, humanoid, mass of fire. There was a brief pause, as everyone in the cafeteria stopped in shock and stared. Even That Motherfucking Bastard and I were rather surprised, and it takes a lot to do that. Of course, I had to ruin everyone’s shock by freaking out. What? No! Not about the death of a person in front of me. Jeez, that’s not me at all. I shouted, “My fucking pizza!” This was enough to knock the rest of the populace out of their shock, so they all started screaming, the person-shaped fire exploded again, and TMB and I ran for the hills. Usual stuff. Not the running for the hills part. That was weird. Normally we don’t run. But the staying blase while everyone else is freaking? Yeah, that’s us.  If everyone’s reaction seems a little too logical, it’s because we’ve been prepped.  Superhumans, metahumans, whatever you call them have been around (publically, at least) for more than a year.  The first villain was Madman. More on him later.  He was defeated by the Enemies of Injustice.  Even though their names were straight out of a comic book, the ones still in the hero business are role models and heroes.  As for the ones who left…  well, while they were a team, they were legendary.

First is The American Hero (No, shit, that’s his actual name), pretty much Superman come to life. Super-strong, invincible, and a flyer, he remains one of the most powerful superheroes. He led the team and inspired countless new super humans to become heroes. He’s still on the team, and is one of the richest people on the planet.

Rocker is the second. A former punk rock star with complete control over sound, he is a huge hit, and has the best concerts. He splits his time between being a rockstar and the team.

Then is Gabriel, the openly homosexual ex-pastor. He has one of the strangest powersets. Not just the team psychic, he can fly, and create light constructs. He’s most famous for his Horn of Truth, which has a calming effect to all that hear it.  He’s still on the team.

Samson is the strong and silent one. He is the strongest metahuman, and nothing has managed to hurt him. Even his hair is invincible, so it’s never cut. He’d look really sloppy, but he gnaws his nails to keep them manageable. He spends most of his time out of the limelight, but still shows up to help every once in awhile.

Mold was the only female member of the team. She is a shapeshifter, with complete control over her own body. In fact, with physical contact, and a few minutes of concentration, and mutual consent, she can even “mold” other people’s bodies. The team used her for subterfuge, bribery, and distraction. She’s also a former model, and has been involved in multiple sex scandals. She left the team after a year, and opened up a body modification clinic in San Francisco that many religious people despise with all their hearts.

Finally, there’s Hacksaw. He was a metallokinetic(controlled metal with his mind)… until September 13th. Up until that point, he had been steadily getting more and more violent. They kicked him off the team on the 12th, and he went on a 15-day rampage. During that rampage, he revealed himself to be a terrakinetic(controls earth with his mind… think volcanos and earthquakes) as well, and managed to kill over a million civilians. He has since gone (mostly) into hiding, surfacing every once in awhile with five to ten supervillains to wreck a major landmark and insult any heroes who try, and fail, to stop him.

If you’re interested, you can read their books (set to be released in about a week), or watch any news story from January to February. Any one. The Enemies of Injustice were ALL everyone was talking about until the middle of March, when the SVRA West Coast Chapter was formed.



Trial By Fire I. Zeta I

 Heroism is killing me. I used to be just like any other guy, never knowing that there was anything more than high school, college, work and then death. Even when the metahumans started appearing, it was only in my dreams that I thought I could be one. But, after more than a year of dreaming, I finally was. On that day, I felt alive for the first time in… forever? As I felt the power coursing through my body, I felt as if there was certain greatness in my future. I might have been right. There’s still time. But, after these past four months, only one thing in the future is certain. The path I am on now leads only to my death. This being a hero… it’s slowly killing me, eating away at me like a cancer.

Whoever happens to be reading this, please forgive the morbid tone. I’m only like that sometimes. Sometimes…. Sometimes is probably a good word for me. I’m like everything, “sometimes.” I go from happy to sad, sad to furious in a manner of minutes. It’s not that I’m bi-polar or anything; I’m just weird like that. I have a large group of friends, but I hate most of them, so it’s null. I do have good friends though. I may be a loner, but not that much of one. I’m about 5’9”, brown eyes, brown hair streaked with blonde. I’m on the swim team, so I’m slim, but have enough muscle on me to be called strong, at least for my size. I’ve never considered myself particularly good-looking, but my only problems with girls are social awkwardness and a complicated personality. So… yeah, I’m hopeless.   I’ve always been angry, a little chaotic, a little violent.  I’ve avoided fights best I can, but sometimes I slip a little.  I’ve hurt some people, and gotten hurt myself.  I’m goddamn smart, but not the smartest of my friends, the school, or anything like that. My closest friend prefers that I refer to him as “That Motherfucking Bastard,” and I like to joke that we have terminal laziness, because we don’t try at anything. We know it’s going to end up badly, but we don’t care. So yeah, that’s me. My name is Zeta. Not really, but it’s what I’m called, and there’s a big, fancy Z on my belt. Since I’d rather not reveal any real names, it’ll work. It’s seven in the Greek numeral system, and my superpower is– well, I’ll tell you later. It’s not important right now. What is important is that, right now I have no powers, and I’m desperately running away from a vaguely humanoid mass of fire screaming obscenities. Just kidding. Right now, I’m writing this journal to tell what happened to me– to us. You see, my friends and I are special. And not in a short bus way. We can do things most people can’t. We’re metahumans. Metahumans. The Heroes. The fucking, goddamn Heroes. Though the first showed up at the beginning of 2016, for us, it started March 4th, 2020.

It started out a normal day. It always does. In every metahuman trigger event, nobody ever says, “When I woke up, I decided to slightly deviate from my normal routine and throw myself into a pot of acid.” Wonder why that happens. So, yeah. I went to school, said hi to my friends, slept through my first few classes, and went to lunch. I was eating at a table with three other people. There was me, That Motherfucking Bastard, another old bud of mine, and a friend of a friend. I’m telling you all this, not because it’s particularly important, but to give you an idea of the setting.  Me, my close friend, an old friend, and practically a stranger.  That’s how it was, right before my old friend, and my life, went nuclear.

I’ve known the old friend since middle school. He’s considerably shorter than me, with more fat than muscle. Not really overweight, but by no means lean. As long as I’ve known him, he’s been prone to anger problems. He’s normally a chill guy, but whenever someone pisses him off, he turns all red, and goes all “HULK SMASH!” Not literally, of course. But seriously, he’s flipped tables, and made people twice his size kiss his boot. Dead serious. He’s almost as bad as me.  Almost.  So, when the friend of a friend insulted his height, TMB and I turned around and ran a few steps away. That’s probably what saved our lives.