Tag Archives: Raptor

Space Date: Part 7


So I digested that for a little while, wondering if it was true, or if it skipped a few steps. For example, the step where it turned us over to the civilizations of genetically modified humans who fanatically worshipped the Abominators, and might possibly hold a grudge against us for the way our grandfathers destroyed the last of their masters.

After which, it would go out and be nomadic. Continue reading Space Date: Part 7

Space Date: Part 5

The League jet had cameras all around the body, allowing me to check out almost the entire hull without leaving the cockpit. I’d always thought that was cool, but as of that moment I could guess at the practical reason why Grandpa had installed them.

A long, black shell clung three quarters of the way down the hull. The fact that it had attached itself said a lot about it.

A depressingly large amount. Continue reading Space Date: Part 5

Three: Part 16

When the brightness and the thundering boom of the explosion ended, I saw that the guitar’s charge had turned a chunk of the mech’s chest into a smoking ruin.

It fell backwards, crashing onto the street.

The left arm beat the ground with jerky flailing motions. The shell muffled the sound of screaming, but I could still hear it.

“Oh God, oh God, it hurts…”
Continue reading Three: Part 16

Three: Part 8

“But we’re not going to,” Alex said. “Raptor’s not going to take on Syndicate L by himself. He’s got to stay here and direct the people who are still left, and, you know, most of them got the short end of the stick when it comes to powers, so what good are they?”

“Well,” I said, “they’re experienced for one. Powers don’t do much good if you don’t know how to use them.”

“Come on,” Alex said. “You’re experienced. You guys made national news a bunch of times. The Grey Giant, that conspiracy, the Executioner… That’s more than any of the no-names Raptor will be using. I don’t see why you’re being such a wuss about this.”
Continue reading Three: Part 8

Three: Part 7

I picked up my guitar from the floor and pulled it out of its vinyl case. Jenny didn’t say anything, but her expression probably meant, “I hope that’s not really for playing video games.”

The man stepped around the smashed hood, grabbed Alex’ door and ripped it off the car. A black mask covered the man’s face, but his black and red shirt showed massive muscles and a lot of skin.

That wasn’t a good sign. Only supers with an extreme resistance to damage went with a t-shirt instead of armor.
Continue reading Three: Part 7