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 Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 1:50 pm
Directly behind the Supu-n Saiketsuryu Dojo lies a newly built home, the style is a mix of average American building with a hint of Japanese influence in the doors and slant of the roofing. This home belongs to the Knight Family, the owners of the Dojo it is located behind.
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Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 2:35 pm
A blinking, red light came from an unset clock in the corner of the room, aside from the glow of the television holding reruns of Friends it was the only light source in the dim room. Scattered about on the floor laid several dozen spoons, their apparent target a slow moving rubber ball that apparently hadn't been touched by a single projectile.
Several milk cartons were sprawled over the room alone with what appeared to be the Spoon's costume.
Shayne himself was stretched on his back, head hanging from the edge of the bed facing the television, the sound didn't seem to be quite reaching ears though. His eyes were focused on what appeared to be a distant past. Stubble was present on the teenager's face as though he had not shaved in a week.
Oddly, the look on his face also held that of inebriation and the only items that seemed to have been ingested was..Well...Milk.
Just as the ending credits were about to roll on the screen a loud crashing sound and a bust of light filled the room. "Shayne!" The voice called out with a passion and unnervingly cheery tone.
The teen didn't look up at his father, instead let out a groan and pulled the dark green comforter over his head.
Instead of taking this as a 'Get out of my room you crazy dude' as most parents would, Shayne's dad sent what seemed to be a spoon, only slightly more sharp and hurty, towards the ball. "Get up! No son of mine is going to spend ten hours cooped up in their room drinking enough milk to intoxicate them!"
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Posted: Sun May 20, 2007 6:13 pm
 Instead of responding to his flamboyant father, Shayne simply groaned and remained stowed away under the comforter. That is, of course, until he found himself floating in the air roughly three feet above the bed, now trapped inside the blanket he once sought for comfort. Only one thing was going through his mind at this moment, s**t.
"I know what happened!" Jeffery Knight clasped his fingers about each edge of the blanket which now trapped his son like a trapped...Well...Person. Despite the fact that the person inside of the blanket was not the lightest in the world, the man held it with ease and soon swung Shayne over his shoulder and began to walk from the room. "I also know that it was not your fault."
Shayne could feel his entrapment moving about and couldn't remember there being a right turn in this house where his father walked. "Wait...Whaaat?" Now he was confused, did his dad just insinuate that it was known Shayne was the Spoon?
 Another quick turn into a darkened room before Jeffery came to a halt, the iron grip remaining on the cloth of the comforter as he spoke once more, "You didn't think I'd notice when over a dozen spoons vanished from the kitchen?" A pause came as he swung the blanket holding his son to the front, "Then a hero shows up using them as weapons and is dressed in samurai armor? Still don't know where I picked that up..." A quick movement and he released the edges of the blanket letting it fall.
A small yelp came from him, something really not like him, though he didn't fall far at all, perhaps an inch, to the obvious surprise, and even more obvious joy, of Shayne. As he pushed the covers off of his head he came to see something that quite frankly didn't seem to belong in his house.
Strewn across the wall was an assortment of weapons that seemed to belong better in a medieval armory, ranging from staffs and swords to shuriken and...Sporks? "This," Jeffery began, "Is something I've been working on for a while." A grin spread across the man's lips as he eyed the sporks, "I got those for you."
Shayne stood slowly and eyed the room, the sporks, which he supposed he would use since they were specially made for him to use in combat and were undeniably better for fighting, were not what caught his attention. Instead it was a set of clothing. "What's that?" He began to walk towards it unable to make out many details outside of a deep purple mask, obviously meant for stealth at night.
"Something I had some old friends make you. They are all made with a special alloy. I pulled in most of my favors for it..." The grin spread to a smile now as he seemed to be in thought. This particular alloy was compromised of two percent beryllium and ninety seven percent nickel, less than one percent titanium and then even less tungsten.
"It's extremely thin to keep from weighing you down, but...It's the strongest alloy I could afford, and one of the strongest in the world." And it was, with a Compressive Strength of over three hundred thousand PSI.
"Uh...Wow. Dad...Um, you sure I'm not hallucinating or something?" For the moment, the death he had caused this day had completely left his mind. Before he could get a reply a screen flickered on behind them, on it flashed the Channel Q News. "I need to get there..."
"Well then get moving, take the Fuuma Shuriken as well as the sporks, you might need it."
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Posted: Sun Dec 23, 2007 11:23 pm
Shayne was powerless to wipe the goofy grin from his face as he flipped through the pile of scrapbooks which had been placed on the head of his bed overnight. Picture after picture depicting the deeds done at his former abode. From before he could walk, to the day the Spoon donned the costume, up until the day they moved. One picture in particular stuck out; Shayne was in the Samurai Armor, that he never quite figured out where he got, and behind him was at least a half dozen armed men cowering in the corner as Shayne posed for a newspaper picture before the cops arrested the would-be bank robbers.
The next three pictures were taken by a camera phone which belonged to one of his close friends that knew his secret. I need to call that guy some day. This depicted him being tackled, pinned down, his face mask lifted slightly and, as his dad put it, put into the "most sensational lip lock that has ever been captured on a cellular phone."
A long sigh escaped Shayne's lips as he folded the book closed. So many old memories, before he had taken a life. Shayne had fought so many thugs, hostage takers, armed robbers, muggers, and other low lifes that he wasn't scared of anyone trying to kill him, but he had never had to take anyone's life, the worst was to simply break a few bones, until the accident. Wait...
That was it, this had been an accident, a terrible mistake. Shayne was just trying to disable her, yet he had sneezed. His aim was awry and the shot killed her. There was still a heavy weight on Shayne's shoulder, not just for killing the woman, but for beating himself into a corner and letting all of the reasons he had started fighting crime be forgotten. To protect those who cannot protect themselves, to keep what happened to his mother from happening to anyone else so long as he could help it. To be a hero, to stick his neck on the line so others wouldn't have to. To...Get the girl? "Haha..."
Flipping back through the collection, Shayne eyed the picture of the girl. "Hm...Evan." Another sigh slipped through his lips, this time it wasn't one of exasperation, it was a mix of the dreamy sigh, and the depressed. There was one time that shayne had tried to kill someone but couldn't bring himself to do it. She was the reason...Simple, far too common story. Only this time it was his own fault. Evan knew about Shayne's identity as the Spoon, hell she helped him come up with the idea for the goofy as heck costume to put off an air of incompetence.
A few unwanted memories flooded back. Finally Shayne began to realize why he had been so freaked out by the ninja nun's death.
"That DVD is in here somewhere..." Shayne stood up and stretched before scouring his room, tossing clothes and other items around in search of the jewel case for the only DVD that he had never wanted to see again in his life.
A glint of purple plastic and there it was, 'Case #2423: Homicide/Armed Robbery/Aggravated Assault.' was written on the front of the DVD in black sharpie. "Let's not watch that part." As Shayne pushed the disk into the DVD player, which also happened to be his favorite game system, he skipped the first two chapters on the diskette. When it stopped, it was a news report.
"Today tragedy struck as an armed robber took the hostage of a teenage girl then fired a shot directly into her chest after gaining an opportunity to escape. The girl's name is Evan Champagne, at the time of reporting she is in the St. Tammany Hospital on Elm Street here in Richardson. She was delivered to the Emergency Room before Police even arrived on the scene by a young man in an outfit that the nurses could only describe as 'something from an acid trip.'" On the screen was a woman in her mid thirties looking as though she'd received one too many cosmetic surgeries. She had black hair and one of those annoying voices that only news anchors could have.
"We hear that the teenager is there as we speak. He has been seen a few times stopping crimes before they start, and in one case, being 'rewarded' by this very girl. It seems, however, that today the hero failed to do his duty to the one who needed it the most. We go live to Barry Walsh, Barry?" The picture changed to the hospital room. In the center of the screen was a plump reporter with an obvious rug of fake hair. At the bottom of the screen several sports scores were shown, none of which Shayne took the time to really read over.
"I'm here, Miranda, at the St. Tammany Hospital with the masked teen. He has yet to leave the side of the girl, who has yet to regain consciousness despite hours of treatment by the best doctors in town." Barry turned his head towards the Spoon, mic in hand. "May I ask you a few questions?"
"If you insist, I may indeed indulge some information."
"Could you please tell me what happened?"
"I've said it already. A man went into the convenience store with a gun, I arrived, he took her as a hostage, at which point I backed down and he shot her on his way out. I...Apprehended him and rushed her to the hospital."
"What is the relationship between you and Evan?"
At this point in the report Shayne, the one from the present, pressed fast forward as he didn't want to hear the meaningless conversation. Pressing play when they went to the shot of Evan.
She had short, blonde hair which came down to her shoulder. Her stature was also lacking, as she stood around five foot nothing. That was all that was really visible underneath the life support systems. By now the dull beeping of her heart monitor had begun to take it's toll on Shayne as he pressed the mute button and hit stop. He could feel the warm tears begin to stroll down his cheeks.
It was his fault she died. He let the guy go. He chose to be gullible instead of trying to stop him. He chose to take his vengence on him instead of taking her to the hospital immediately. He let her die...He would not let it happen to anyone else. She was one of the reasons he continued fighting crime in the first place. She thought it was cool. She thought it was brave. She gave him the strength he needed to keep facing death and not looking back.
Now...She was why he would never give up. She was why he needed to protect those who could not protect themselves. Not to make up for his past mistakes, he had beaten himself up to repent for every one ten times over. Now, now he was ready to be the hero she knew he was. The hero he wanted to be for Evan. The hero...His dad got that nifty suit for.
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