![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
whitereflectionBackground/history/world-building, I dunno. Not very interesting/good, but at least it's something.
Day 2 11/1/10 2:22-3:43
There was a time where there weren't any superheroes, but he doesn't remember it. The first started appearing when Jared's parents were young children, a few before then even, during the '40s and '50s. Back then, people all thought the supers were play-acting, mimicing the costumed characters from comic books and radio serials--or assumed they were just plain crazy.
And maybe there were a few that were suffering some sort of delusion or insanity, some that were wanna-bes or copy cats. But those were the exception to the rule. To the amazement of the populace at large, superheroes quickly proved they were real.
At first they were a novelty, something bizarre to gape at and feel awe about. Then, eventually, as time passed, year after year and decade after decade, superheroes became...normal. Everyday, mundane people working an everyday, mundane job that just happened to involve aiding, helping, serving, and protecting others. There were firefighters, police officers, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, and there were superheroes. When a girl or boy said they were going to grow up to be like LightningMan or Comette or Freezia, it wasn't just a childish flight of fancy; it could actually happen.
The problem was that superhero teams could be territorial--and understandably so. Unlike many services to the communities, they were more often than not run by themselves rather than local governments, and so they often had to walk a careful line to remain in the good graces of the people and leaders of their chosen city. It made sense that their members had to be skilled, good at what they did, not to mention of course outright good, to continue to receive the support of the populace.
There had to be standards, and even a superhero had to face a performance review. Those that weren't competent enough or powerful enough were often given the choice of working administrative or clerical tasks, sometimes even construction or maintenance, on the supergroup's base of operations. In rarer cases, or when the superhero team was particularly small, the individual was requested to instead live life as a normal human.
And those supers that veered too far away in that grey area between right and wrong, who started to stray too far off the path.... They would be warned, face discipline like suspension--and would eventually be quietly asked to leave their city to find another place where their methods might be more accepted. Even police had regulations and procedures they had to follow--just because one was a superhero didn't mean ends could justify means.
However, that was all assuming a person could get into a superhero group. Most cities' superteams recruited on an ongoing basis--a potential recruit just had to apply and be interviewed, "perform", as it were, to be judged by the current team's members.
But if you weren't good enough, well.... You could apply again if you liked, but wanting to be a superhero didn't mean you would be allowed to be one if you weren't powerful enough, if your powers weren't useful. If an applicant was honestly good, and the team simply didn't need another member, they'd be recommended to another city.
But if all you got, time and again, was the letter that said "We regret that you have not been selected...", that was that. The applicant could work for the superhero group, or be Mr. or Mrs. Average Joe and live like any other non-super. If applicants that weren't good enough to be recruited into the group continued to try to conduct superheroic activities, they would also be asked to leave the city. It wasn't exclusionary, wasn't done to be mean or arrogant--if you weren't good enough, you'd fail, and it would inevitably be the citizens that suffered and died for it. The superhero-ing had to be left to those who'd be successful at it, without causing interference in their ability to do their job.
Having only those who met certain standards perform the duty of superhero also served to protect the existence of supergroups as well. One super failing to protect civilians from injury or worse would bring opinion backlash on all superheroes. But then again, it had always been that way for all those that protected and served.
*
Many of those who didn't make it onto a superteam were fine with accepting employment to aid and assist the superhero group instead of being a member of the group itself. But Jared...Jared didn't want that. And he sure as hell couldn't live with being asked to pretend to be a normal again.
He hadn't been able to save his family. So that night when the wings had torn from his back, even when the pain had brought him to his knees, he swore himself that he'd use them to save someone. As many someones as he could, for the rest of his life.
But those were all he had, those wings. He wasn't super-fast or super-resilient or super-strong, didn't have any weapons or mental abilities. Just himself, his fists, and the ability to fly.
He also, however, had determination. Nothing was going to keep him from trying to help people somehow.
If you didn't actually apply to a superteam, they couldn't tell you you weren't good enough. Couldn't give you that choice of doing filing, being a receptionist, keeping the base computer systems updated and upgraded. Couldn't ask you to please just instead be some citizen waiting for the hero to come help you.
That was the thing about New Bells City--other than how different it was from San Antonio. It was busy. Perhaps it was no Gotham, but it was thriving, perhaps even starting the first steps to a true metropolis. And their superhero group was always recruiting, always short-handed.
Somewhere like that, there'd be plenty for Jared to do, plenty of people that needed to be saved, without fear that he'd be interfering with the local superhero group. He could do what he wanted, no, needed to do, while flying under the radar, so to speak. If they didn't notice him, they wouldn't try to recruit him. And if they didn't recruit him, they wouldn't have a chance to tell him he didn't have what it took to join.
*
Jared wouldn't fail. He wouldn't allow himself to fail. Not just because he didn't want to prevent negative opinions about superheroes, and not just because he didn't want to draw the attention of New Bell's local superteam. He wouldn't let himself fail because he owed his family that much. Each person he saved would be for them. Each person he rescued from harm would be an apology; each person he kept from dying would, maybe, atone for him not being able to prevent their deaths.
(1125)
***
Day 2 11/1/10 2:22-3:43
There was a time where there weren't any superheroes, but he doesn't remember it. The first started appearing when Jared's parents were young children, a few before then even, during the '40s and '50s. Back then, people all thought the supers were play-acting, mimicing the costumed characters from comic books and radio serials--or assumed they were just plain crazy.
And maybe there were a few that were suffering some sort of delusion or insanity, some that were wanna-bes or copy cats. But those were the exception to the rule. To the amazement of the populace at large, superheroes quickly proved they were real.
At first they were a novelty, something bizarre to gape at and feel awe about. Then, eventually, as time passed, year after year and decade after decade, superheroes became...normal. Everyday, mundane people working an everyday, mundane job that just happened to involve aiding, helping, serving, and protecting others. There were firefighters, police officers, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, and there were superheroes. When a girl or boy said they were going to grow up to be like LightningMan or Comette or Freezia, it wasn't just a childish flight of fancy; it could actually happen.
The problem was that superhero teams could be territorial--and understandably so. Unlike many services to the communities, they were more often than not run by themselves rather than local governments, and so they often had to walk a careful line to remain in the good graces of the people and leaders of their chosen city. It made sense that their members had to be skilled, good at what they did, not to mention of course outright good, to continue to receive the support of the populace.
There had to be standards, and even a superhero had to face a performance review. Those that weren't competent enough or powerful enough were often given the choice of working administrative or clerical tasks, sometimes even construction or maintenance, on the supergroup's base of operations. In rarer cases, or when the superhero team was particularly small, the individual was requested to instead live life as a normal human.
And those supers that veered too far away in that grey area between right and wrong, who started to stray too far off the path.... They would be warned, face discipline like suspension--and would eventually be quietly asked to leave their city to find another place where their methods might be more accepted. Even police had regulations and procedures they had to follow--just because one was a superhero didn't mean ends could justify means.
However, that was all assuming a person could get into a superhero group. Most cities' superteams recruited on an ongoing basis--a potential recruit just had to apply and be interviewed, "perform", as it were, to be judged by the current team's members.
But if you weren't good enough, well.... You could apply again if you liked, but wanting to be a superhero didn't mean you would be allowed to be one if you weren't powerful enough, if your powers weren't useful. If an applicant was honestly good, and the team simply didn't need another member, they'd be recommended to another city.
But if all you got, time and again, was the letter that said "We regret that you have not been selected...", that was that. The applicant could work for the superhero group, or be Mr. or Mrs. Average Joe and live like any other non-super. If applicants that weren't good enough to be recruited into the group continued to try to conduct superheroic activities, they would also be asked to leave the city. It wasn't exclusionary, wasn't done to be mean or arrogant--if you weren't good enough, you'd fail, and it would inevitably be the citizens that suffered and died for it. The superhero-ing had to be left to those who'd be successful at it, without causing interference in their ability to do their job.
Having only those who met certain standards perform the duty of superhero also served to protect the existence of supergroups as well. One super failing to protect civilians from injury or worse would bring opinion backlash on all superheroes. But then again, it had always been that way for all those that protected and served.
*
Many of those who didn't make it onto a superteam were fine with accepting employment to aid and assist the superhero group instead of being a member of the group itself. But Jared...Jared didn't want that. And he sure as hell couldn't live with being asked to pretend to be a normal again.
He hadn't been able to save his family. So that night when the wings had torn from his back, even when the pain had brought him to his knees, he swore himself that he'd use them to save someone. As many someones as he could, for the rest of his life.
But those were all he had, those wings. He wasn't super-fast or super-resilient or super-strong, didn't have any weapons or mental abilities. Just himself, his fists, and the ability to fly.
He also, however, had determination. Nothing was going to keep him from trying to help people somehow.
If you didn't actually apply to a superteam, they couldn't tell you you weren't good enough. Couldn't give you that choice of doing filing, being a receptionist, keeping the base computer systems updated and upgraded. Couldn't ask you to please just instead be some citizen waiting for the hero to come help you.
That was the thing about New Bells City--other than how different it was from San Antonio. It was busy. Perhaps it was no Gotham, but it was thriving, perhaps even starting the first steps to a true metropolis. And their superhero group was always recruiting, always short-handed.
Somewhere like that, there'd be plenty for Jared to do, plenty of people that needed to be saved, without fear that he'd be interfering with the local superhero group. He could do what he wanted, no, needed to do, while flying under the radar, so to speak. If they didn't notice him, they wouldn't try to recruit him. And if they didn't recruit him, they wouldn't have a chance to tell him he didn't have what it took to join.
*
Jared wouldn't fail. He wouldn't allow himself to fail. Not just because he didn't want to prevent negative opinions about superheroes, and not just because he didn't want to draw the attention of New Bell's local superteam. He wouldn't let himself fail because he owed his family that much. Each person he saved would be for them. Each person he rescued from harm would be an apology; each person he kept from dying would, maybe, atone for him not being able to prevent their deaths.
(1125)
***
