Post by Terminus on Jul 21, 2022 21:02:25 GMT
"While you slept, the world changed."
The words appeared on every screen, echoed from every available speaker, like the voice of a god. But these were not words of thundering fury. Instead, it was in calm, even tones that the decree came down. Like a parent, stern but kind, telling you that this is the way things are going to be.
As intelligence agencies and military units alike scrambled to find the source of the signal, the display changed. Now, every screen showed a face. One that was familiar to anybody who'd followed the past half decade of superhuman activity. The face of one Nicolas Pendragon, better known as Terminus. His infamous armor was nowhere to be seen, replaced with a tailored suit and red tie. He stood on a raised platform alone, with the ocean behind him, wind ruffling his black hair.
"You all know me. I'm a superhero. Or at least I used to be. The last couple years, I've been doing some soul-searching, among other things. And I came to one conclusion above all else. The world doesn't need heroes. Not really. Sure, the cape-and-tights crowd is nice to have around when somebody like Surgath comes calling, but that's a once-in-a-generation occurrence. And while we've all been busy worrying about the next time some big purple alien will try to end the world, the real apocalypse has continued happening in the background."
Images flash across the screen. Blood-red skies over California as the redwoods burn. The six-hundred-and-twenty-thousand square mile Pacific Garbage Heap. Towns in the 'First World' that don't have clean drinking water. Shooting after shooting after shooting with no end in sight. Bombed-out cities in the Middle East, the citizens left to starve in the ruins after America's 'intervention' is complete.
"So, really, what use is a superhero if they can't be bothered to do anything about the real problems? No, we don't need heroes. We need leaders. We need somebody to take charge and get our species out of its death spiral."
Pendragon smirks, and removes his mirrored sunglasses to stare directly into the camera. His eyes are bright blue, impossibly so, humming with circuitry. The man may look human, but beneath the surface, he's become so much more.
"I've been accused of having an oversized ego in the past. But I'm done letting the petty objections of small minds stop me from doing what needs to be done. So let me put this as clearly as I can. I am that leader. As of this moment, I am taking charge of the human species, and making the executive decisions that needs to be made so that we can all live happier, healthier, more prosperous lives."
In hardened bunkers and secret safe-houses around the world, contingency plans are put into action. This is a possibility that's occurred to plenty of different strategists before now. That a metahuman with the wherewithal, not some jumped-up bank robber, but an actual visionary, might try to use their abilities to reshape the world as they saw fit.
"Make no mistake, this isn't me 'taking over the world.' There will be no tanks with my face on them rolling down your street. I'm going to make a series of decrees for the betterment of the species, and your elected leaders will have the opportunity to follow through on them. If they decline, I'll remove those leaders from power and install better ones. Maybe in a few decades, when the propaganda and indoctrination you all have been subjected to is no more, we can have a more democratic system. Until then, just sit tight, okay?"
The former hero chuckles, runs a hand through his hair. He was half expecting a cruise missile to have struck his position already, but it seems like they haven't managed to zero in on his location yet. Or maybe they're waiting to see if he's actually serious.
"We can get to the ugly stuff in a minute, though. First, let me run you through what I'm offering. Because this isn't an arrangement that won't have its benefits for you."
Pendragon waves his hand, and the camera zooms out. Way out. In an instant, he's just a speck, within the vast machinery of a structure nobody recognizes. Yet.
"This... is Miracle Island. It used to be the headquarters of a superhero team called the Front Line, which I founded along with two friends of mine, both of whom aren't around anymore. Our mission was to take the fight to the bad guys, and I'm still carrying that mission out. This is just a logical extension of it."
For a moment, Terminus looks wistful, as he remembers simpler times. Perhaps it was something about his old allies- Rust Clarke, the layman with the might of an Elder God, and Brock LaVerne, a hero from another era -that made everything seem so black and white. But those days are gone now.
"As you can see, the facility has gotten a bit larger. The Miracle Island Complex is now the size of a small city, and every inch of it is dedicated to the cause of human progress. I've spent the last few months recruiting humanity's best minds for this project. They're already inside, working on things that will blow your mind, without having to worry about funding, or whether some corporation might try to turn their life-saving invention into just another product. We're going to cure diseases, extend the human lifespan, solve the energy crisis, and if we're lucky, do something about airplane food. Seriously, what's going on with that stuff?"
The attempt at humor will likely fall flat for most people listening. Some will understand why their research scientist uncle or medical engineer sister had to suddenly relocate without telling anybody. Many will be skeptical. A few will allow themselves to begin to hope that things might actually be about to get better. And they'll be right to do so. The Miracle Island Complex is home to three thousand people today. But within a year, that number will be multiplied by ten- if everything goes according to plan, that is.
"That's just the tip of the iceberg, though," Terminus says, as the camera zooms back in on him. "I may not be a hero anymore, but I'm aware that the world still needs defending from existential threats. Which is why I've converted the headquarters of the Society of Superheroes, the space station known as the Empyrean, into a home for the new and improved Front Line."
Pendragon snaps his fingers, and the display changes. The Empyrean is practically unrecognizable now, more than three times its previous size, and with a massive tree growing out of its inside.
"This facility is located in geosynchronous orbit over Miracle Island, where it will remain, monitoring the Solar System for potential alien threats, as well as observing the Earth's surface for your safety and protection. It will be administrated by Alexandra Russell, who you might know as Daystar, one of many heroes who has already signed on to the project."
While the former hero is speaking, the camera zooms in on a bright light circling the Empyrean, which stops in place, revealing it to be Daystar herself- looking older than her last public appearance, and sporting an updated costume. She gives the camera a nod, and it cuts back to Pendragon.
"This is where the bad news starts, though. Because joining this team isn't voluntary. If you've got metahuman powers and you're listening to this... you're being conscripted. If you want to continue using your powers, you must join the Front Line. If you decline, all costumed vigilante activities you undertake must immediately cease. This is not negotiable."
This decree is unlikely to win Pendragon many friends. But he isn't doing this to expand his social circle. He's doing it because there's no longer any other option. The camera zooms in, and he adopts a slightly softer expression.
"I know this sounds draconian. But understand, I've been a so-called 'hero' for a lot longer than most of the people running around assaulting muggers in spandex. And the truth is this- many heroes do more harm than good. Innocent bystanders get hurt, and their reckless use of metahuman abilities cannot be allowed to continue. No government has stepped up to put a regulatory body in place that might restrain some of these metahumans, so I'm doing it myself. If you want to use your powers for good, you can do so as a part of the Front Line. If you aren't interested, then hang up your cape. End of story."
Already, he can practically here people gearing up to 'take him down' for this. That's not a problem. Progress can't be stopped, only slowed down.
"Which brings us to the rest of the world. I'm talking to the governments of the world here, so listen closely. War is over. All hostile military actions must cease today. You have until the end of the month to pack up every military base you have on the soil of another country, and return all your troops home. I don't care why you're fighting, or how good your reasons are. It's done. And anybody who gives the order to continue fighting... will be dealt with decisively. You know what I'm capable of. Use your imagination."
Pendragon's voice becomes harsher, now. It's clear he has little sympathy for the people he's addressing.
"After that, I want every world government to enact a series of laws recognizing equal rights for people of all races, sexes, sexualities, religious denominations, and whatever other fake distinctions we've made up to keep our fellow man down over the years. And I'm not just talking the right to vote, either. I mean a right to free healthcare at the point of service. A right to housing, to equal pay and protection under the law. A right to basic human necessities like food and water. A right to education, to internet access, all the rest. I've released a document detailing the specifics of these laws, and I want them followed to the letter. If you aren't willing to do that, I'm perfectly happy to make an example of you."
As promised, the document goes live on the internet immediately. It's over eight hundred pages long. Some people are starting to weep tears of joy. Others of fear, or rage.
"More of these decrees will follow. As will the release of the technologies we've already developed here on Miracle Island. These include a model for safe, environmentally-friendly nuclear powered vehicles, from cars to trains to planes, as well as a universal vaccine against the common cold. A single shot, and you'll never have the sniffles again in your life. If any government decides to get in the way of the dispersal of these gifts... you'll answer to me."
Behind Pendragon, the infamous Terminus armor- once more in the iconic red and gold -descends from the heavens, faceplate as implacable as ever. He spreads his arms, and it unfolds to wrap itself around him, sealing in an instant with a satisfying metal clang.
"That's all for now, everybody. If you've got any questions, feel free to drop by and ask. Free transportation to Miracle Island will be made available at every major port in the Western hemisphere, and by plane or helicopter from anywhere else. But be warned, if you try to attack this place, you'll have a very bad time."
From beneath the armor comes a chuckle, made slightly sinister by the metallic filter the suit puts on everything Pendragon says.
"Until next time."
{OOC.}This is one of those 'reaction RPs' or whatever you want to call it. Have your character comment to themselves from their couch, or show up at Miracle Island to voice their complaints. You're free to start a fight if you want, but bear in mind I've got more planned that might be more worthy of that sort of response.
