The JSTF...no more! (Or: plans)

[Conn Seanery]

I actually had some plans for the JSTF, I meant to run this by the last members of the writing team individually before going ahead with it, but since we got this googin' sweet board now...

I was going to officially disband the JSTF. Or rather, Conn was. Not me. The character.

In a nutshell, Conn gathers what remaining JSTFers he can at Callahan Inc., they all assume that they've been gathered in order be a team again. To their surprise, Conn tells them that there will be a JSTF, but without any of them as members. In fact, he'd prefer it that they distance themselves from the what the new JSTF needs to be. There's some shock, outrage, Vind storms out dramatically (into a closet), etc...

Conn's plan was actually put into motion during Nope's tenure as Mayor. He basically finagled himself some variety of delayed carte blanche that allowed him to draft J Street superheroes to preform certain tasks in a group or, let's say...force (See the boldface? Clever, huh?).

("Draft" is a bit strong of a word. Think more along the lines of "deputized", or in some cases "how the hell did I end up fighting bad guys with these people?") Conn's sneaky. If he wants you on the team, he'll find a way.

What this would do (outside the fictional realm) would be to allow ourselves and new people (who may be daunted by the JSTF history) to write new stories with a team they can hand pick themselves from the plethora of J Street heroes out there, and even create new heroes. This doesn't even discount the possibility of the last version of the JSTF ever working together again (just not at the beginning, is all).

So...what i'd like to know, from all former JSTFers, if this is okay with them? It's not like we were doing anything with the team anyway...

[Azangel]

There's some shock, outrage, Vind storms out dramatically (into a closet), etc...

*falls over laughing*

I'd forgotten how fun Vind always was...

[Conn Seanery]

In the event that people are cool with this, a little bit of detail about what their characters have been doing since the last time the JSTF was together would be cool (since I started writing the "reunion" portion a few days ago from a "5 years later" standpoint) . Is Kanako still an only child (and, uh...5?)? Did Nope & Ali have their kids yet? A general "what _______ has been up to".

However, I was planning on having 'Lax off in space doing something (sorry Matt). No particular reason other than I wanted to write a scene where Conn informs them that 'Lax is unable to attend because he's off adventuring in space, BA looks at Nope and mouths "he tracked him down in space?", and Nope looks back at him shaking his head and mouthing "don't ask".

[Matt]

Sounds like a winner idea to me.

Marty Jordan can be retired, more or less, since I'd like to stay away from such blatantly derivative characters. However, Green Angel should still be able to be used with little difficulty.

[Conn Seanery]

PROLOGUE

Reunion (sort of)

It was a brisk mid-evening on J Street, as regular a night as there ever was in the grand nexus between multiple worlds. Or maybe it wasn’t. It’s a big place, something bad must be happening somewhere. But then, most would call that regular anyway. Whatever. J Street was home to heroes, villains, everything in between and beyond.

The limousine came to slow stop in front of Callahan Inc., the driver hurriedly circling the vehicle to open the door for its passengers. The man stood rigid as he opened the door with a quiet grace. Not even a flinch when the toy ball came rolling out and settled near his foot.

A small child climbed out of the limousine and immediately crouched to get her ball, the pigtails from her black hair brushing by her cheeks. Satisfied that the toy would not escape her grasp again, she stood as tall as her five years growth would let her, head tilted back to stare up at the driver. She was wearing pink plastic sandals, faded jeans, and a red t-shirt with Engrish Locks scrawled across the front in white lettering.

A man came next from the interior, kneeling as he swept the girl up in his arms, muttering gibberish as he twirled her around. The girl giggled, being hefted over his shoulder as he began to fly her around the sidewalk, completely oblivious that she had dropped her ball again.

The ball rolling to the curb was suddenly stopped by a delicate foot wearing a wooden sandal. The foot suddenly moved backward, rolling the ball until it crested the toes and paused on top of the foot, which shot upward ever so slightly to send the ball lifting into the air. The driver finally flinched as the ball arced near his face, only to be caught in the lightning fast grip of an elegant hand. His eyes met those of the hand's owner, who gave the ever briefest of nods to relay her thanks for delivering them to their destination.

The doors to Callahan Inc. shifted open at the approach of the trio, which delighted the smallest one enough that she jumped back and forward in attempt to get the door to repeat the action. The door, however, was not to be fooled and remained open for the duration of the jumping. The girl, pouting in disappointment, walked forward at a hurried pace to return to her parents.

The trio had taken no more than a few steps into the cold, black marble lobby before a pair of security personnel came forward, one with a raised hand to halt their progress.

The other hovering over his holster.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but we can’t let you bring that sword in here,” the first guard informed them.

The guard was, of course, referring to the rather unmistakably noticeable sword strapped to the woman’s back. The young girl grabbed the man’s hand as he started to speak, but the woman’s sudden upturned hand let him silently know that she would handle the matter. Had the guard’s eyes not been locked on the woman with the sword, he’d have seen a pitying smile cross the man’s face.

“This sacred blade is known as the Dragonslayer Sabre, a 14th Century katana forged from Himalayan iron by the Temple of the Sword,” she began, unsheathing the blade and holding it flat across her two palms. “This weapon became sacred after it was used by the Sword Goddess of that generation to slay an evil dragon that was terrorizing Japan. The invulnerability of the sword came from being drenched in the dragon’s blood.”

The guards collectively gulped, and began to unfasten their stun pistols from their holsters. As the man began to lead the small girl away, the woman quickly sent the blade lightly into the air and caught it by the handle with both hands, immediately dropping into an aggressive battle stance.

“Therefore,” she said through gritted teeth, “the only way you will take possession of this blade is by prying it from my cold, dead ha-”

“I pray that won’t be necessary,” a hurried voice from behind the guards on the other side of the lobby called out. “Stand down, boys.”

The guards remained fixed on the woman with the sword, hands nervously perched above their still holstered pistols. The young man who approached at a light pace smiled as he held up his hands, trying to diffuse the situation. He was pale skinned with silver hair, wearing shades that hid a slight red glow.

“Stand down, I said,” he repeated, a tinge of annoyance escaping from between the teeth of his smile.

“We have strict orders from Mr. Seanery not to let anyone carrying weapons enter the premises, sir,” one guard rattled off, still too nervous to move.

The young man sneered. “Yes, and who does Mr. Seanery work for?”

This seemed to finally break the guards from their hyper-preparedness. “Um…you Mr. Callahan?”

“Yahtzee,” Nope replied. “Be sure to remind the other guards, and Mr. Seanery himself, of that little factoid the next time you see him, okay? Okay? Buh-bye now.”

The woman with the sword eased her stance as Nope finally shooed the guards away. Turning on his heel, he made his way back to the three, flushing with embarrassment. “Sorry about that folks, sometimes I get the feeling my security staff is going to secede from the company and take over a small country.”

“No problem,” the man said with a sly grin, leaning forward to shake Nope’s hand. “Good to see you, been a while.”

“Too long, Sharpshooter,” he replied, smiling down at the girl who was hiding behind her mother’s leg, looking up at him with her face twisted into a squint. He kneeled down to give her a better look. “And who is this little lady? That can’t be Kanako, she’s too big.”

“No…! I am Kanako!” the girl insisted, stepping forward as if her presence was proof enough. She looked up and yanked on her mother’s hand.

“My mistake,” Nope said as he stood up to face the woman, meeting her gaze and bowing a perfect ninety degrees in greeting. “Suno-Sa-Beru San, gashi,” he said to Snow Sabre clearly, respectfully. She reciprocated the bow gracefully, though not quite as low.

“Why are we here?’ she asked plainly. “The message we received suggested urgency.”

“Yes, about that…” Nope began, beginning to walk toward the elevators. “I…ah…didn’t call you.”

Snow Sabre and Sharpshooter exchanged glances as Nope was about to press the call button. He paused when Kanako ran forward, jumping on the spot not so much in an attempt to hit the buttons as much as a suggestion that someone lift her so she would be able to. With a nod from Nope, her father obliged.

The elevator doors opened soon after and Nope ushered them inside. He took out a key card and inserted it into a slot just below the keypad displaying the floor numbers. He couldn’t help but grin as noticed his guests’ reaction to the sensation of upward movement suddenly shifting sideways, upward again, and then sideways in the opposite direction. Kanako mockingly stumbled around the elevator car, as if off balance.

“I don’t get it,” Sharpshooter finally said, breaking the silence. “If you didn’t call us, who did?”

“The same pain in the butt that’s slowly turning my security staff into an independent militia,” Nope said with a frown. “If it’s any consolation, you’re not the only ones who got burned.”

“This…Seanery person?” Sharpshooter asked.

“Yes, he’s a bit…it’s not that he doesn’t mean well, it’s just that…” Nope rambled, searching for the proper description. “I don’t know…does the term ‘Diabolically good’ make any sense?”

“No,” Snow Sabre replied flatly, barely shifting her weight as the elevator’s momentum once again started rising what felt like upward, if not slightly diagonal.

“Right,” Nope said, grinning as he nodded. “Well, I’m just happy he’s on our side. I think…”

Michael Sharp, aka Sharpshooter, was about to press further when the elevator doors opened. Kanako squealed as the first thing she saw waiting for her was a small, Scottish terrier with what could only be described as a look of shock on it’s furry face.

“Doggie!” Kanako exclaimed, charging forward.

“Och, no!” Spot MacGregor muttered, leaping to the back of the hallway to avoid her.

“Talking doggie!!” she squealed even more excitedly, chasing him down the hall.

“Spot! Watch the potty mouth!” Nope called after as the pair took off. “Better yet, avoid speaking altogether!” he added, stepping out from the elevator. With a slight turn to the couple that followed, he sighed. “That pooch swears more than Dougie, if you can believe it.”

“Doug…” Sharpshooter repeated. “Vindicator is here?”

Nope was starting to hear raised voices as they approached the double doors. “Unfortunately. Not to worry tho’, the others more than make up for it.”

The double doors opened automatically as Nope neared, leading to an exquisite boardroom filled with leather chairs, a lengthy mahogany table, and wall sized windows that revealed a view of J Street that could not be beat.

But it was the people inside that concerned the Sharps more. Vindicator was in a bit of a rant as he leaned menacingly over a seated Buried Alien, who seemed to be sporting vacant stare in defense. Rokkit stood nearby, grabbing Vindicator’s arm every few minutes trying to get him to back off.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Vindicator growled, wagging a finger in the speedster’s face. “If I’m coming back to this turkey outfit, I’m calling the shots!”

Buried Alien sighed. “Dougie-”

“No, I’ve had enough of this shit! I was ready to keep doing! Where were all of you, huh? Huh!?” Vindicator was in a full-blown tizzy, and nothing was going to stop him. He yanked his arm out from Rokkit’s grasp. “Everyone decided to take a five year vacation and leave ol’ Vind twistin’ in the wind, huh?”

[Conn Seanery]

Buried Alien rubbed his eyes in frustration and turned away, only then noticing the new arrivals. A smile instantly made its way to his face. “Michael! Kyoko!”

Greetings were exchanged all around. Ken Cheng, aka Buried Alien, was simply delighted to see old friends again, even Snow Sabre couldn’t help but let a small grin come to her lips to pierce her icy demeanor. Rokkit was overjoyed to see everyone in one place, his teammates being his adopted family of sorts that helped him pick up the pieces after the destruction of his home planet. Even Vindicator let his guard down enough to greet his teammates formally, if not with the same enthusiasm. Not for them…

“Where…” Vindicator began, frowning. “Is she…?”

Michael smiled and pointed down. Vindicator hadn’t noticed that his leg had gained a new appendage in the form of a five-year-old Kanako, who gazed up at him with a smile as wide as her face would allow. He immediately picked her up and grinned as she threw her arms around his thick neck. Vindicator started to badger her with questions about how she was doing, if she was safe, if she had any problems, to which she answered with a constant string of shakes and nods that almost made her appear as if she was doing neck exercises.

Greetings were interrupted as the doors slid shut behind a tall man dressed in a tuxedo with a dark blue bow tie. To those who had met him, and those who hadn’t had the pleasure, he bore a startling resemblance to a young Sean Connery. “Good, you’re all here,” he smiled as he spoke. “Forgive the formal clothing, I’ve a gala to attend after business is concluded here tonight.”

“Of course, Mr. Trump,” Vind muttered with a laugh. Kanako giggled with him, even if she didn’t understand the reference. Everyone else ignored the comment.

“All here?” Nope asked. “We’re missing a few. Material Girl and Parallax…”

“Material Girl did not reply to the summons, but cursory examinations of her credit card history indicate she has been active all over Europe for the last few months,” Conn began, a slight smirk sneaking in across his face. “Parallax sends his regrets, he’s off in deep space and won’t be back to J Street for the foreseeable future.”

Buried Alien’s face twisted into confusion, and chanced a glance in Nope’s direction. He tracked Parallax down in space? he mouthed silently.

Don’t ask, Nope mouthed back, his demeanor betraying that these kinds of revelations were not uncommon when dealing with his mysterious employee.

“What about…”

“The most recent core members are here, that’s all that matters,” Conn returned plainly, extinguishing any further questions in this area. “Time is short, and we have an important issue to discuss. If you would all be seated?”

Everyone who was standing complied, even Spot MacGregor, the foul-mouthed Scottish terrier, used one of the chairs to bound up onto the table. Conn crossed to the head of the table, standing straight and bringing his hands to rest behind his back. “First of all, on behalf of J Street and all it’s citizens, you have our undying gratitude for past deeds and heroics. Many a time have you, and those that came before some of you, stood between the populace and utter destruction. They shall never forget their valiant heroes.

“But as you know,” he continued after a slight pause, leaning forward to rest his hands on the table in front of him, “the struggle between good and evil is a never-ending battle. Threats arise on a daily basis, and J Street needs it’s protectors now more than ever. Therefore…”

“Here it comes,” Vindicator said with a drawn out sigh for effect. “Thanks, but no th-”

“…the J Street Task Force, as you know it, is no more,” Conn finished, ignoring the interruption.

“What?” Vind sputtered, setting Kanako down from off his lap. “What!?”

“Your services are no longer required,” Conn reiterated.

The entire room was at a loss for words. Confused glances were exchanged, the start of sentences were left adrift, mouths gaped, and eyes searched for answers.

“We are…” Rokkit began, breaking the silence, though he still appeared to be searching for the words. “…fired?”

“Aye,” Spot growled, looking over to Vindicator. “Enuff like Tarump fer yeh?”

“Not at all,” Conn interjected, sparing a stern glance for his canine companion. “Think of it more along the lines as being dismissed.”

“You can’t do this,” Buried Alien accused, his voice calm despite appearing more than a little disturbed. “I co-founded this team, you have no authority to-”

“Please understand that this is in no way intended as a slight to any of you, or your distinguished careers,” Conn said, holding up a hand to halt the speedster’s reply in mid-sentence. “You are simply done.”

The heroes gathered may have been stunned to silence before, but the outrage at this proclamation forced them all to raise their voice in protest. All except Nope, who sat back in his chair, lips resting on his index fingers. His eyes seemed to bore an imaginary hole into Conn, who almost seemed to nod to his employer despite the outbursts that surrounded him.

“This is bull-“ Vind cut himself short, eyes darting to a slightly nervous Kanako, “uh…crap! Who the hell are you!? You can’t tell us what to do!! We can still do our thing, you can’t stop us!!”

“Nor would I,” Conn agreed, straightening as if startled by the accusation. “Feel free to continue on with your various deeds, however heroic they may be, if you so choose. You will not,” he said with a commanding certainty that swept the chamber, “be doing so as members of the J Street Task Force, is all that I’m relaying to you.”

“Horse-” anther glance at Kanako, “…dung!! I don’t have to sit here and take orders from this James Bond wannabe!” Vindicator said forcefully, grasping to contain all the dignity he could muster as he made his way for the nearest door he could find. “I’m leaving!!”

*SLAM!!*

For a minute the remaining people in the boardroom stared at each other. Kanako was restrained by her mother as she attempted to follow Vindicator after his dramatic exit. Sharpshooter turned around to gaze momentarily at the double doors through which they had entered previously, and then returned to stare at the door Vindicator had stormed out into. “Is that…”

“A closet,” Nope finished. “I suspect that he’s too embarrassed to-”

A slight shake coupled with a muffled crunch overtook the room and Nope’s explanation as stone exploded out near the window, presumably nearest to the closet, as Vindicator’s black-clad figure could be seen flying off into the night.

Rokkit tensed as he leaned backward to watch the rubble descend toward the streets far below, but breathed a sigh of relief as a cone of green light from the outer wall a few floors down seemed to disintegrate the falling debris.

“Spot,” Nope started, standing up and facing the dog that stood attentively on his boardroom table, “how about you show everyone over to Conference Room Q so I can have a minute here alone with Mr. Giant-Set-of-Gonads.”

“Och, a’rite,” Spot began mockingly, with a slight bow of his head, “Shall a poot on’a kettle o’ tea ta…nae, get th’wee bairn away fro’meh!!”

The terrier with a ‘tude bounded away as Kanako resumed her chase out the now re-opened double doors, everyone filing out after them. Buried Alien tossed a concerned glance in Nope’s direction before he left to follow the rest, leaving them alone.

“That was annoyingly abrupt, Conn, even for you,” Nope began. “These are good people, you can’t just tell them they’re not needed.”

“I said no such thing,” the taller man insisted, taking a seat and crossing his legs.

Nope sighed. “‘Your services are no longer required’ doesn’t leave much room for interpretation.”

“I admit, I phrased it rather…stingingly to provoke a reaction,” Conn said with a smirk. “I do honestly wish and hope these teammates of yours would return to serve J Street, but they’ve been away for too long. Perhaps my words will prod them into taking the necessary steps.”

“But not as a part of the JSTF,” Nope added.

“No,” Conn replied with a single nod.

Nope frowned at the cryptic response. “The only reason you’re still sporting a full set of teeth right now is because I know you don’t do things without a reason. You would not assemble these people after five years of inactivity just to tell them the job they’ve been neglecting is no longer theirs. You’re up to something.”

“Nothing you need concern yourself with,” Conn answered reassuringly, standing up.

“You smarmy bastard…you’re creating a new J Street Task Force, aren’t you?” Nope asked plainly.

“I’ve always told naysayers you were smarter than they thought,” Conn said with a sly smile, slowly walking around his employer toward the exit.

“How can…hey, who said I wasn’t smart? I want names,” Nope said, following Conn out of the boardroom, suddenly pausing to shake his head. He grabbed his tux-clad head of security in the hallway and spun him around. “Nice try. Tell me what you’re up to, or so help me…”

Nope let the threat dwindle away as Conn’s gaze revealed something haunting, an unrelenting secret pain that seemed to be eating away at him. If Nope had to describe the look, a look he had never previously seen from this usually smug man, it was intense regret mixed with worried uncertainty.

“I’ve…I’ve waited too long,” Conn whispered, his head drooping slightly. His hands grasped Nope’s shoulders. “In my vision of J Street, there are none of these…splinter groups. We are unified, and we are strong. We have to be. We need to be.”

[Conn Seanery]

“Conn…” Nope began, concerned.

“Something is coming. Something powerful, something deadly. And we aren’t ready, no…not ready…” Conn’s grasp went tight on Nope’s shoulder’s as his posture straightened, his face returning to the impenetrable mask of absolute confidence behind the cocky smile. “We will be.”

“Allright,” Nope said, flustered. “Allright…what do we do?”

All signs of the earlier weakness were gone. Conn cocked an eyebrow up and smiled. “‘We’?”

“Goddess man, you can’t drop a bomb on me like that and not expect me to want in!” Nope insisted. “I want to help!”

“You are,” Conn replied, nodding. “You are.”

“But not in the way I’m thinking,” Nope finished, getting angry again.

Conn smiled. “For the foreseeable future, the J Street Task Force needs to be seen as something new. It needs to be a rallying point, a beacon to all heroes that urges them to come forward and do their part.”

“So…you’re assembling an army of superheroes?” Nope asked plainly.

“No,” Conn replied with a smirk that turned into a slight frown. “And yes.”

“Fine, don’t tell me…” Nope said, frustrated as he began his walk down the hall toward the boardroom where his teammates were now gathered. He turned suddenly, wagging a finger in Conn’s face. “But I want someone on the team that I trust.”

"But you don't trust anyone," Conn raised an eyebrow.

“You know who i'm talking about.”

Conn paused. “Out of the question.”

It was Nope’s turn to smirk. “He’s on, or I spill my guts.”

Conn frowned, following his employer as he resumed his walk toward Conference Room Q. “Very well.”

Nope’s smirk sagged a little as he walked. “You were already planning on having him on the team, weren’t you.”

Conn stifled a cough. “Yes.”

“I hate you.”
~
“It’s my turn!”

“No, it’s mine!”

“You’re both wrong, it’s mine!”

He was sprawled out on the large pillows, being fed the most delicious grapes he had ever tasted one at a time by the ladies of Maxim’s Hot 100 when the cat fight broke out. As much as he was enjoying the grapes, he most assuredly was in no such hurry of any kind to break up a dispute involving women physically battling each other for his attention.

He paused momentarily as their words suddenly turned squawkish. They all turned to face him, closing in, hands reaching out, all chanting BZZT BZZT BZZT…

*BZZT! BZZT! BZZT!*

His eyes slowly opened a sliver, the ceiling tiles coming into view as the most annoying clock alarm in all recorded history screeched at him from his bedside table. Peering over at the green glowing numbers, he finally managed to displace his eye-cheese enough to read the current time of 8:15 glaring back at him. He rolled back on his pillow, his hand reaching to hit the snooze button, trying to figure out why he couldn’t remember setting his alarm the previous night, especially when he had no good reason to be getting up this early in the morning.

A distinct *clunk*sounded from nearby, along with the familiar sound of his door’s mail slot swinging shut. Yawning, he got up, scratched himself and crossed the room, descending down the stairs to the first floor entrance of his bachelor apartment.

There on the small landing, big enough only for the door to open, was a thick envelope. He leaned over and picked it up, turning it over in his hand to make sure it was properly addressed. Not only was it missing an address, but it wasn't a standard envelope at all. It was a yellow inter-office envelope and it was delivered by hand, but not by a mailman.

He began to unravel the red string from around the red cardboard button until the top flap opened, and held it upside down waiting for the envelope’s contents to slide down into his hand.

A black cell phone with a “J” marked on the back. Scratch that, it wasn’t drawn on, nor was it stuck on, this piece was actually molded with the “J” in it. No company logo, no description of where it was made, no warning about not using it while spilling hot coffee on yourself, nothing. Just a “J”.

Just as he stood, it started to ring. He stared at it a moment as he mounted the stairs back up to the main part of his apartment. After seventeen persistent rings, he decided to throw caution to the wind and answer the phone. An androgynous automated voice replied…

“Wheat Lad, the J Street Task Force needs you...”


The NEW
J STREET TASK FORCE
Coming soon to an NEF near you!
(Maybe. Possibly. Hopefully.)

[Conn Seanery]

As you can (maybe) see, this is why I need some details (as posted before the prologue) from from the mid-school JSTF crew. I wanted to add more personal details to the (former) JSTF characters, but I don't know how far along people's characters are, even if they had no definitive plans back when they were writing them. Vind and Rokkit were obviously off doing their own thing (I have a few unfinished minis on my hard drive to prove it, along with all the random ideas I had flying around my head), but i'd like to hear from the others.

Also, if someone could tell me if "Suno-Sa-Beru San, gashi" works as Japanese text, i'd appreciate it. I cobbled that together from an online translator, I just want "Greetings Snow Sabre" properly translated.