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Royalty of the Row (Origin Story - Super Group - Heroes)


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Chapter 1. 

An unnatural silence gripped Kings Row. The familiar symphony of gunfire and sirens, once a grim lullaby, was eerily absent. A prickling unease crept through the shadows, whispering of unknown forces at play. Twenty years of watching these mean streets for whispers of trouble had honed The Shrouded-Shaft's instincts. The eerie quiet tonight? It screamed one thing: new competition. New territory claimed. This wasn't the first "Supergroup" lured by Kings Row's allure. Each brought hope, some even lasting change. Whispers had swirled for years - a Paladin-busting group, a Skull-stomping squad. The "Skull-bashers" made a dent, but the cycle remained. Kings Row was a beast and Shrouded-Shaft had stared into its abyss for two decades. This new player… what did they think they saw here?

The Shrouded-Shaft stalked the shadows, not just for the usual Skull scum, but for a new breed prowling the Row. This "Supergroup," a whisper on the wind just weeks ago, was now a storm cloud, snatching up police bounties and hero work like wildfire. They were particularly vicious towards the Clockworks, a fact that brought a twisted amusement to the vigilante. He reminded himself, with a grimace, that these metallic menaces weren't truly alive, just cogs in a machine. But taking them down with his standard arrows was a losing game. His EMP arrows, the only things that truly slowed them down, were expensive luxuries in his line of work. This new group, though… they seemed unafraid of the metallic menace, leaving a trail of sparking Clockworks in their wake. It was both unsettling and… intriguing.

The stench of victory and defeat hung heavy in the air of Moe's, Kings Row's haven for misfit heroes. The new Supergroup, battered but triumphant from their encounter with Alloy, nursed their wounds at a familiar booth. Moe, with his ironclad "no powers" rule, turned a blind eye to their healing glows and muttered curses. The Shrouded-Shaft, a grizzled veteran himself, watched from the shadows. He wasn't there by chance. This wasn't his first rodeo with upstart Supers. Years ago, he'd been Moe's patron too, fueled by youthful zeal and questionable pain management (ice baths and cheap beer, not his finest hour). Now, with age adding weight to his aches, he preferred a quieter approach. His protégé, Heart-Strings, had infiltrated their ranks a month ago, her youthful charm the perfect Trojan horse. Tonight, thanks to her tip, he was ready to step out of the shadows and confront this new generation. Their clash was inevitable, but for now, the silence in Moe's held the tension of a brewing storm.

For twenty years he'd patrolled these mean streets, carving his legend into the minds of thugs and earning leery respect from even the Circle of Thorns. Fear was his currency, and he wielded it well. Until now. This "Supergroup," barely dry behind the ears, radiated a reckless fearlessness that made them walking targets. Like children playing cops and robbers with loaded guns, they were courting disaster. He scoffed. Fame or puberty? Which would fade first? A pang of concern flickered for Heart-Strings, his young protégé planted within their ranks months ago. He scanned the group, finding her face amidst the bravado. Her intel would be crucial, but their naiveté gnawed at him. These weren't just vigilantes; they were ticking time bombs, and he wasn't sure if their courage or their ignorance was more dangerous. His young spy, Heart-Strings, had unveiled their base: a converted warehouse owned by the heroes: Rock-Hard and Stone-Cold. These two veterans were lauded figures, turning wayward superpowered youth back from the brink, offering them sanctuary and a chance to use their powers for good, something that the law couldn't. But The Shrouded-Shaft couldn't shake the unease. Could even good intentions pave the road to disaster, especially under the leadership of untested youngsters?

Edited by Cyrickain13
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  • Cyrickain13 changed the title to (RP Closed -- For a little bit) The King's and Queen's of the Row
  • Cyrickain13 changed the title to Royalty of the Row (Origin Story - Super Group - Heroes)

Chapter 2:


Brittany "Barely-Legal" Thompson, the prodigy and leader of this young Supergroup, bore the weight of a tragic past. Trained by her father in the art of staff fighting since childhood, he'd instilled in her the skills to defend herself in the brutal reality of Kings Row. But fate had twisted the knife cruelly. On her 15th birthday, caught in the crossfire of a Skull-Helion shootout near Perez Park, she witnessed her father gunned down. Now, barely legal herself, she spearheaded this group, channeling her grief and rage into their vigilante crusade. The question gnawed at the Shrouded-Shaft: was this youthful defiance a beacon of hope or a recipe for disaster?

Grief twisted Brittany "Barely-Legal" Thompson into a maelstrom. Unable to cope, she unleashed her pain on the Skulls, leaving a trail of broken bones and terrified gang members in her wake. Her brutal efficiency even caught the attention of Skull leadership, forcing them into hiding. Hospitals overflowed with incapacitated Skulls, unable to stand trial or even stand at all. Paragon City took notice, dispatching low-level heroes to halt her rampage. Inevitably, the beatdowns and overflowing hospital beds drew the attention of the Paragon Police Department. They turned to Rock-Hard and Stone-Cold, renowned for rehabilitating wayward superpowered youth. Months of training and recruitment later, the "Royalty of the Row" was born, channeling Brittany's rage into a vigilante force led by "Super Children" like her. But would their crusade for justice pave a path of hope or destruction? The Shrouded-Shaft watched, his weathered heart heavy with concern.

Brittany ruled the "Royalty of the Row" with an iron fist – literally. Messing up a mission meant facing her staff and its fiery temper. She was a powder keg with a hair-trigger fuse, and Kings Row was the ever-present spark. Tonight, though, celebration reigned. Their latest mission had been a roaring success, leaving a trail of incapacitated criminals and paperwork for the morgue, not the station. Unlike most Supergroups who played nice with petty thugs, Brittany had sanctioned an all-out brawl this time. The air crackled with a mix of victory fumes and unspoken concerns. Would their "justice" turn Kings Row into ashes, or could they become its unlikely saviors? The Shrouded-Shaft watched, his experienced eyes wary of the volatile mix.

Edited by Cyrickain13
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Chapter 3: 

He glimpsed Brittany slipping out of Moe's back door. The celebration inside likely fueled her fiery temper, so she needed the cool night air for an escape. He hadn't seen anyone else use that exit; this was his moment. With practiced agility, he navigated the intoxicated stragglers of her crew, their merriment loud and sloppy. Pushing open the door, he emerged to find her poised, leaning casually against her staff, moonlight glinting off its cold metal. The stage was set for their confrontation.

"Greetings, Grandpa," Brittany drawled, her smirk tinged with disdain. "Took you long enough."


The Shrouded-Shaft chuckled, a dry rasp in the night. "Your adopted fathers would've instilled better manners, had you bothered with their 'school of misfits.'"


"Oh, they tried. Skipped that day, though." Her smirk widened.


"Judging by tonight's carnage, seems you skipped several lessons."


"Scum deserved it. Just taking out the trash."


"Trash deserves proper disposal, child. By trained hands, not reckless fury."


Brittany scoffed. "High and mighty, Broken-Shaft, Kings Row's self-proclaimed savior..."


"There are rules," he cut in, his voice firm.


"Face it, Grandpa," she retorted, her smirk fading into defiance. "Your way's outdated. We put scum down, permanently. No more laws broken, no more harm done."


"This path leads to your downfall. You'll hurt innocents, and they'll retaliate, striking those you hold dear."


"Conveniently, I have none."


"You are not alone. They will find someone."


She narrowed her eyes. "My adopted fathers warned me about sentimental oldsters... Listen, as a favor for them, I'm letting you walk away."


"Hear me out, I think we started off on the wrong foot. All I want to-"


His words were swallowed by a thunderous explosion that rocked Kings Row. Both hero and vigilante exchanged startled glances, adrenaline replacing their tense standoff. A race against time had begun, a desperate scramble to find the source of the blast. Their differences blurred, replaced by a single, unifying purpose: protect the Row.

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