It's like Bridget Jones' Diary, but with a super-powered vigilante.

January 02, 2005

Our Story So Far...

Okay, since it's the New Year and all I thought I'd do a quick recap to bring everybody up to speed.

My name's Connor Mackenzie, and I'm a superhero. I live in Evergreen City, WA, where by day I am a brand management project manager (aka marketing guy) for a large and unnamed software company, but at night I prowl the misty urban jungle as The Velvet Marauder.

A couple of years ago a bizarre accident gave me powers beyond the ken of mortal man. I'm not sure what that really means, but it sounds good. I have what we call mid-range super powers, like Spider-Man. Of course, Spider-Man is a fictional character whereas I am real. Anyway, I can pick up and throw (small) cars, run at about 50 mph, and leap a city block. My reflexes and sense of balance are uncanny. I never get cold. My skin is bulletproof and my bones are as hard as steel. I have to say that bulletproof or not, getting shot still hurts like a bitch and can leave an ugly bruise, so I try to avoid it. I also heal very quickly, which is good because I am accident prone and get beat up a lot.

To supplement my super powers I wear a suit of black body armor with some custom mods, like infrared goggles, gauntlet-launched mini-boomerangs, and an MP3 player. Recently I had these kick-ass retractable glider wings added to my armor by My Guy, the anonymous weapons-and-gadget contractor that provides me and other superhero types with gear. My buddy and fellow vigilante Wombat hooked me up with My Guy, who as I've discovered over the past year also sells gear to supervillains. At least, I think so.

Let's see, what else do you need to know? I have an unhealthy affection for Margo Thompson, a foxy project manager at work. She's spunky and retro, sort of a 21st century Mary Tyler Moore. I want her to be my Lois Lane, but she's going out with Evil Val Kilmer (I forget his real name), a handsome dickhead who works for a pharmaceuticals giant. I think he's a superhero. Anyway, Margo and I currently work on the Ninth Floor together on the QuantumWorks project.

What a nice segue. The QuantumWorks project is an ultra top secret program spearheaded by a mysterious group of executives in The Company, who I think are supervillains. I know, I sound paranoid, but I'm usually right about these things. QuantumWorks is a revolutionary search engine that can retrieve any data, any material that has ever been posted on the Internet, ever. I'm not sure how something like that works, but I'm just a marketing guy. The whole project is under the control of three executives; Ted Bradbury, Aaron Clarke, and the mysterious John Quentin. They seem to know that I'm the Velvet Marauder, and I have no idea why they haven't tried to kill me yet. They're supervillains - who understands how these people think?

Another evil company with a mysterious agenda is Interbionics, who just opened their west coast office here in Evergreen City. My company is very cozy with Interbionics, who I am sure is a front for a secret empire or something. Their west coast division is led by the satanic and impeccably groomed Jason Delacroix and Ingrid Vanderwaal, the ultra hot Ice Queen. If they aren't supervillains I don't know who is.

Do I sound paranoid? Consider this: at the gala opening ceremony for the Interbionics West building right before Christmas, I thwarted a plot to poison all the VIPs present with spiked champagne. It was kick ass: I had a big kung fu fight in my tuxedo with an assassin dressed like an elf (don't ask) that ended badly for him and the huge glass sculpture that was hanging in the building's lobby. I managed to grab a sample of whatever they were putting in the drink - hopefully that will give me an idea as to what these bastards are up to.

Speaking of bastards, our new mayor Chip McChesney has pledged to crack down on illegal metahuman vigilantes in Evergreen City, namely me. To this end, he's hired a new police chief, Taylor Ryczek, the "Motor City Madman." Ryczek appears to have assembled an Anti-Hero squad of SWAT guys. We'll see how serious this gets.

I've had a good track record this year as far as high-profile fights go. It always helps to get your name on the news. I recently laid the smack down on The Jet Pack Mafia, stopping their bank robbing spree and bad Jimmy Cagney dialogue. People are bitching about all the property damage during the fight, like the collapsed construction crane and all the destroyed cars. I try to help some people out and look what I get. I can't win.

Earlier this year I defeated the super-strong, super-creepy Yiff, a drug-adled freak in a bear suit who went on a rampage in Waterfront Park. He got away, though, but not before humping my leg and throwing a Prius on top of me. Yiff is still out there, somewhere.

Also at large is Exploder, who ambushed me this summer and blew up my car. Are you starting to see a trend, here, with the cars? I pumelled Exploder and the cops got him, but he escaped from federal custody and is now on the loose.

I occasionally team up with other hero types. Nothing big league like the Storm Riders or the Minute Men, but I'm working on it. I occasionally run into my buddy Wombat, the only hero I know who has attention defecit disorder. I also run into Kestrel, this suave British guy with big angel wings who steals my press.

This past Halloween I teamed up with Hydrangea, mistress of mysticism, to fight an evil reincarnated Tibetan llama and a bunch of zombies. That was really cool, fighting the zombies. I saved Hydrangea's life and she was... grateful, if you know what I mean and I think you do. After a brief affair, Hydrangea split, and I went back to being alone and masturbating a lot. Kidding, I'm kidding.

Okay, you're now up to date. I'm looking forward to smashing evil in 2005. That, and less typoes.


K.Fox, Jr. said...

Good friend, I would hope you're kidding. Anyway, I know you can't win. But, neither can Batman or Spider-Man and they don't even exist in the same universe as you. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll, eventually, catch a break.

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