Sliced Bread: Part 1
The all powerful Wind Duster! The mighty Freight Train! And the enigmatic Dark Arrow! Formed together due to events that are better left unspoken and lead by the brain power of CBTF Director, Morris Pfeifer, together they are the Response! A team of the World's Greatest Superheroes!
Indigo City, Carrier Blight Task Force Headquarters, 4 days from now...
"Welcome, gentlemen." Director Morris Pfeifer exclaimed in the calmest voice he could muster. He was dressed in his green Military uniform, usually it made him feel proud and confident. It had helped him during the Great Impact to maintain his composure under overwhelming pressure, yet for some reason he was a nervous wreck stood before a small group of people and giving a speech. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Pfeifer. Director Pfeifer. For now and the foreseeable future I will be your head of command. Now it brings me great pleasure to be the first to welcome each of you t-" He clicked a button on the computer mouse next to him, causing the Power Point slide behind him to shift revealing the name of the team in big, bold letters. "...the Response!"
He smiled and waited for the applause. None came. He wasn't sure what he should receive the applause for... but he felt like he deserved it. "...alright." He sighed. "Each of you have been CHOSEN for the finest fighting force known to man! Today, each of you have become the Earth's FIRST and LAST line of defense!" He grinned again at the speech he'd spent the previous evening preparing. "TOGETHER you ARE the most powerful being's on the planet! TOGETHER you are the World's Greatest Superh-"
He stopped himself and stared at the room before him. His jaw dropped slightly and his eyebrows burrowed forward across his forehead as he slowly began to realize that nobody in the room was actually listening to the majesty of his speech.
There were four of them in total. Less then Pfeifer had wanted. Half of them were filled with people that Pfeifer wouldn't have considered Superhero team material. The other half were people he had never heard of. The one sat at the front, dressed in a cheap tuxedo was wearing a name tag marked, "Freight Train" in big, capital letters. He was somewhat overweight and his eyes were locked forward with a glossy look to them.
Sat behind him was the former Olympic swimmer known as Aaron Zdarsky, he was thin, black haired with an African American heritage. He was leaning on his chair looking at his mobile, probably texting or bleeting on Bleeter. Stood in the corner, reading a newspaper was Mark Brooks. He was already dressed in his somewhat tacky Wind Duster costume, he had not been on the top of Pfeifer's list for potential members... and the less said about that idiot the better.
Stood by the exit, smoking a cigarette was a man dressed completely in black and white body armour along with untidy black hair that was so uncut it was draped across his shoulders. If the man cared he hadn't done anything about it.
"Hey!" Pfeifer said, speaking into the mic attached to his cheek. He pointed towards the, 'No Smoking' sigh on the wall to his left. "You're not allowed t-" The man glanced directly at Pfeifer revealing grey eyes to accompany his pure white skin. Pfeifer stopped his sentence and ended the protest.
"Fine!" He yelled before heading towards the exit. "Welcome to the Response!" He snapped. He pulled open the exit door and turned back towards the still uninterested group. "Public reveal's tomorrow!" He told them before slamming the doors behind him.
Mark Brooks winced slightly at the suddenly loud noise before going back to his paper. He read the headline to the first article he could see and felt a rush of mixed feelings flow through his body.
'Wind Duster fans arrested for vigilantism'
It was nice to see people appreciating his work, the previous week he'd been invited by kids' parents to over a dozen different Birthday parties all over the globe. 17 to be exact, his daughter had counted them on the official, 'Wind Duster, Facehunter page'. Several fan sites had sprung up since the battle in New York. Fan Art that made him look a lot cooler then he actually was. He'd even been offered an interview on the 'David Endocrine Show'. Overall it was pretty decent being Wind Duster at the moment.
The fan fiction was a bit creepy though...
"You're Wind Duster right?" Mark looked up from his paper and suddenly remembered he was wearing his mask. He stared at the pair of eyes fixed directly on him and before Mark could even reply the large figure that had kept looking at him during Pfeifer's speech lumbered over to him, knocking several chairs over and causing the Olympic swimmer guy to look up in irritation as his chair shook slightly. "Can you sign my lunchbox?" Mark glanced at the man's name tag as he pulled a stylized metal box from his bright red, ruck sack.
"Sure thing... 'Freighter Train'." Mark said as he pulled a pen from his 'utility belt' and began writing his codename on the cover. He looked at the version of him on the box's front and almost laughed at the huge, clearly not real muscles that had been added to his frame.
"It's Freight Train actually." The guy corrected. "That's what they call me. Or what I call myself since I'm new... and nobody knows me." He sighed before pulling back his lunchbox. He seemed to hesitate for a second before holding out his hand towards his newly appointed best friend. "But you can call me, Chuck." Wind Duster shook Chuck's gigantic hand and suddenly felt a surge of pain shoot through his arm as Freight Train nearly crushed it.
"GAH!" He yelled, jumping back in surprise. Freight Train looked horrified and stumbled forward, accidentally crushing several chairs beneath his feet. In the background Aaron chuckled to himself while playing Flapsterbird.
"Oh, jeez!" Chuck yelled as he leaned forward and held Wind Duster's hand. Nothing seemed to be broken. "I'm so sorry!" He said quickly. "I don't know my full strength yet an-"
"It's... it's okay." Mark sighed before standing up from his chair and glancing around, rubbing his hand slightly. "So.. are we allowed to go now?" He asked to nobody in particular.
"Nah, man." Aaron muttered, still texting on his phone. "We're getting outfitted with costumes first." It was at this point that Mark noticed small amounts of black smoke generating from the ex-swimmer's body. It faded away as soon as it got a few inches from his body and disappeared into nothing. "Takin' measurements and stuff."
"Costume?" Mark frowned, before glancing at the thing he was currently wearing. It was iconic. Everyone loved it. A new costume would just confuse everyone as to who the hell he was. "I've already GOT a costume." He pointed out. "I don't need a new one!" Aaron shrugged.
"Well they're probably giving us ones that don't make us look like a hyena threw up on us." He responded. Freight Train's face lit up at the conversation.
"I can't wait!" He said. His body shaking with excitement. "I've never had my own costume before!" A brief moment of concern appeared on his face and he glanced at his wide stomach. "I hope they have my size..." He mumbled.
"Hope?" Everyone looked over to the cigarette smoker stood looking out a nearby window. He tilted his head towards the team revealing a scar running diagonally across his nose. "Hope is an ember in the dust." He muttered before taking another puff of his cigarette and looking back out the window.
Wind Duster and the others stared at the apparent psychopath stood across from them. Mark sighed before picking his newspaper back up and going back to reading the article he'd started several minutes ago.
"Well that really set the tone..." He grumbled before turning the page with his injured hand. "Ah sh!t!" He yelled as a jolt of pain shook through him.
___________________
Several floors up...
"We need a new team..." Pfeifer grumbled, his Public Relations head, January Morgan dashing directly behind him while typing on a small silver laptop that she was expertly balancing on her wrist.
"You keep saying that, sir." January said before pushing her glasses back up her nose. "I just don't understand why."
Pfeifer cupped his face in his hands and let out a somber cry that sounded similar to a wildebeest mating call.
"They're bored!" He held up one finger. "Rude!" Another finger. "Don't exactly fit the definition of, 'hero'..." He let out the mating call again before carrying on the march to his office. "...and worst of all... I've got to dress them up as Superheroes and tell the whole goddamn world they're a team by tomorrow morning!" He threw open the doors to his office and punched a wall, feeling his little finger break upon impact and wincing at the pain.
"Actually sir..." Morgan said in a surprised voice. "I think you'll have to tell the World sooner then tomorrow..."
Pfeifer glared at her with utter horror on his face.
"What's happened?" He asked as Morgan turned her computer screen showing an article on the social media site, Facehunter. The thumbnail showing the Power Point version of the Response's logo. "Oh god..." He grumbled.
"I'm so sorry, sir." Morgan said calmly. "There's been a leak..."
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