OK-- here's a little intro-something for my character. Hope you like it, and hope we can start soon!
At this point, my character's public identity is 'Blackbird'-- she's not one for calling cards, press conferences, or interviews. Every time the authorities have attempted to contact her 'at work,' she's disappeared. Her tactics are hit-and-run, and frequently her targets' guilt is ambiguous-- though their being targeted by Blackbird is usually accompanied by the anonymous delivery of surveillance material, physical evidence, or a newly discovered eye-witness.
By playing so close to the vest, she's failed to establish a reputation among law enforcement agencies, and her lack of panache and big-name targets makes her of very little interest to the media. The only real reputation she's gotten has resulted from alternate-medias and electronic blogs: scraps of video, witness accounts, and-- embarrassingly-- fanfic and creative art... underneath the armor and helmet she wears seems to be a very attractive female body. Surrounded by mystique, dressed in matte-black like a gothic-fandom character, and beating criminals to a pulp with leather-gloved fists-- she doesn't fit the mold, but she's earned something of a 'cult following', to be sure. My main focus is on the irony of this situation, as I described earlier.
The website is titled HotHeroines.com. The banner and border are in a metal-stylized, hard-edged photoshop compilation of the faces and busts of a half-dozen superheroines-- a couple, at least, are fictional (despite rumors to the contrary, you know this for a fact) but a couple are rock-stars of the world of supers... possessing at least mediocre talent for their enforcement of justice, but in most cases their real talent is in PR-- their uniforms, where possible, are designed to reveal more than they protect. They have blinding interview skills, agents, legal teams, and contracts... this particular site. Their faces are captured, airbrushed or photoshopped into the most sensual expressions possible-- lips pout sensitively, eyes smoulder in faces that portray a mixture of lust and boredom.
The topic of this page: "Top 5 Super-Hotties TO BE-- hotheroines.com predicts the future of super-booty!"
Each of the heroines below includes a write-up, including embedded video, pics, and known bio information.
"#1: Emily Benedict, 16-year-old daughter of famous matron-heroine Denise "Shooting Star" Benedict. Considered for the list for her obvious potential once she reaches legal age in the US. If she lives... rumor is that her brother was crippled for life last year in a battle with arch-villain "Silverwolf", though the family insists his injuries were not life-threatening. On a sidenote: it's rumored that she has more than one thing in common with her mom-- there's a chance she's already got a sex tape out there! Of course, if that's valid, we couldn't link to it on our US server. Please don't arrest us, FCC!"
(Chaste photo-gallery follows, including mom 'in-uniform' hugging the girl to her chest-- though clearly being careful to occupy most of the photo's frame, nearly pushing her daughter aside, it seems...)
"#2: Coming in second is "Palisade", a young woman who disappeared after one press conference, just after she claimed public responsibility for breaking up a local ring of the Yakuza. Check out that cute grin, you can TELL she's proud of herself! Maybe she should have worked a little harder on that secret identity... sayonara, baby! Anyway, here's hoping we have a sequel from this hottie!"
(attached is a flash video link to a news website with highlights from her brief press conference. She seems hopeful, arrogant, self-absorbed... the media loves her immediately. Too bad the embedded video is tagged as 'last known interview'.)
"#3: Further down the list is the mysterious "Blackbird"-- sure, maybe she wears the helmet to hide one dog of a face, but she can take ME for a walk anytime! And who knows? Maybe she's like the hot cheerleader who's insecure, so she volunteers to wear the mascot outfit? Guess only time will tell!"
(the attached amateur video link picks up with a shakey, obscured camera angle, then the flare of a streetlight-- vibration causes the image to tremble, and there's the audible sound of rapid breathing. The cameraman, evidently, has climbed at some effort onto a chain-link fence, and it jangles audibly in the audio track.
He whispers, the sound hard to distinguish-- someone's added subtitles, though, in English and Spanish. "There's five guys down there, in the street--" the zoom tightens, and shapes can be made out, men in dark clothes-- one wears a 'Niners jacket, another black bomber jacket, one in just a muscle-shirt is huge-- at least 6 1/2 feet and built like a freight train. Some smoke, but they're standing around some heap on the sidewalk. The cameraman continues to whisper. "They've got some guy on the ground..." He tries to tighten to get more detail, but the digital zoom kicks in and the picture becomes a little blurry. "I called the cops," he hisses trying to get a focus on the men's faces one-by-one, "but they're not here yet, and I think that guy might be dead... oh shit, I think he's dead--" the crumpled form on the ground can now be made out as a young man, Asian perhaps, his face a mask of blood.
The camera widens its frame back-- "I'm going to keep filming until the cops get here, just in case they can't catch--" there's a flicker of shadow, the men turn around, looking around them-- "what was that?"
A scream-- someone wasn't there, but now just is-- a black-clad form, helmeted, armor-jacketed, appears in their midst. It's not at all apparent where she came from, but she appears so suddenly that the camera man falls off the fence. "Oh shit, oh shit--" he breathes in a soft whine, forcing himself to his feet as the camera comes back to action in his hand-- he climbs the fence again, and there are shaky angles of the ground, the fence, a dumpster-- then he finds his frame again and zooms in-- four of the men are down and completely still on the ground. "How-- What the fa--?" and then, clearly, he sees 'how the fa--' when the black-clad form-- half the size, perhaps less than that, in comparison to the muscle-bound, bald-shaved thug-- turns an aerial cartwheel-kick that lifts him cleanly into the air. His arms dangle limply, and it seems he's in an unconscious state before he's reached the ground.
"Holy SH--" the cameraman exclaims, louder than he should, perhaps-- the black-armored girl turns her face toward him in a shap-- "--IT?" he says and then she takes two running strides toward him, disappearing instantly from view. "Wha? Where'd she--" then the sound of the chainlink crashing and the camera angle goes wild, matched by the cameraman's scream of surprise. "Oh, GOD, I'm sorry-- I was just filming for the cops--" in the camera angle, one long, slender leg is bent, as if she's crouched over the prone cameraman. "I called the cops, I-- I did! Look, look at my cell!" There are the soft tones of a Motorola clicking open, buttons responding to touch. She's checking his call history. "I-- I just, wha-- who are you, anyway?" No verbal response, but the soft click of the phone closing. She walks right past the camera, and in the distance one can hear the low wail of sirens... evidently, she didn't know the camera is still filming, because she's walking away with a purposeful stride, almost lazily, a little sway in what look to be lovely hips, before she disappears from the frame. Then, she's gone, the cameraman's fumbling, filming empty alleyways, "Damn, where'd she go..?"
There's a rough-cut, and the scene is redbrick and asphalt staccatoed by police and ambulance lights. "These," says the same cameraman as before, sounding much more confident now, "are the guys I videotaped earlier tonight, beating that kid on the street." They're being strapped to individual gurneys, backboards, and one is being zipped into a black body-bag. "I mean, I wasn't really expecting it to be like this-- I thought that they'd be okay, just taken to jail-- but, ah, from the looks of these guys? I think jail would be overkill--" there's a few voices off camera, one sounds delirious-- over the shoulder of a young EMT, the cameraman's able to film the speaker. "It was, it was..." the one blubbering is the big bald guy... it takes four EMTs to lift his backboard onto a stretcher. "It was beautiful, it was a bird-- it was like a black bird, flying... it was like a bird..." then he starts convulsing.
"Get the paddles, we're losing him--" someone screams. The camera blacks out as a hand covers it, a blue shirt and silver shield visible between the fingers-- "YOU CAN'T FILM HERE, THIS IS A CRIME SCENE--" and the feed ends.
The video prompts... "Watch again?" the control buttons popping up to pause, rewind, or repeat. "Watch again?" the control buttons popping up to pause, rewind, or repeat.