The Age of Brave and Bronze

The Age of the Brave and the Bronze is a alternate history story, set in a world where superheroes exist but have regulations set upon them by the United States government since the end of World War II and in a world becoming more and more disillusioned by it's own superheroes, who are also fed up with themselves. The story was written by and is meant to be both a deconstruction and reconstruction of superheroes. The story is set to focus on three characters in particular: the daughter of two powerful superheroes turned gang member Carol Linkbolt, super-villainess Queen Dynamo, and a third unrevealed character.

Prologue: The Bronze Age
This is the Bronze Age of Super Heroics. The Golden Age is long over. It ended when World War 2 did, as much as some of the older heroes hated to admit it. The Silver Age started with the governmental code of ethics to keep in line the heroes that had the need to fight, that needed to feel something to feel alive. The government never admitted this, but that’s what it was for. It was a wild time, when humanity had made official contact with extraterrestrial life. It never grew into anything substantial, the Earth never learned anything from their visit.

The age of disillusionment, also known as the Bronze Age, began slowly. When the Human Icepick finally croaked, it was a pretty big moment. It was the first big superhero to die of natural causes, not through battle. It was a unexpectedly rough moment in time, the reminder that these heroes could go away with no way to stop it. With superheroes acting less like the protector of the people and just another justice firm under the Government’s jurisdiction, the people began to turn on them. Not in any big way, but the disillusionment of superheroes in general, as a concept not only became an ordinary thing, but a dreaded thing. If you had gotten a superhero involved in your life, you might as well ask what went wrong.

Should superheroes be forced to fight wars? Should they go to Iraq and serve for the United States against terrorism, a fear that was unfounded ultimately because they never actually stopped it? Idealism is a cancer against the mind, isn’t it? We become so blind, so stupid, we only listen to what we want to hear, and we don’t think about what we’re doing. We end up lost. So many superheroes, and the public alike, became disillusioned with the concept of super heroics. Drinking themselves to death, doing anything to get it off their mind.

Where did it all go wrong? Was it the moment World War 2 ended, and the superheroes went back home to their normal lives, knowing it wasn’t really over? Was it the moment that we asked of the American government to impose ethics into these people, making them work for the American people because of their powers? The moment when Pluto Girl opposed going into Vietnam? The moment when Metro Man went into Iraq?

The idea of reclaiming “super heroics” back was absurd. The counterculture, and what made them the enemy in the eye of the public, was just returning to those vanilla rogue roots of the golden age wouldn’t work today, would it?

Would it?

Chapter 1: The Crawl
The Crawl was a popular destination for those fed up with the system that belonged part of it. It was a small cellar store, usually with some kind of stand up to go alongside some of the strongest alcohol in existence. The average human would probably die of the alcohol toxins in it, but for some it was the only thing their body could handle that would give them the relief they needed. People were allowed to express anything they felt like; it was the one place that couldn’t be tracked. The Crawl was owned by the world’s sharpest spy mind, the White Widow.

The White Widow was, in her prime, the supreme spy of the United States and its allies. Grown and raised in Russia, the White Widow could crack the hardest of codes, infiltrate the most secure bases, recover the most valuable information. She wound up working for the United States after realizing the consequences of her actions, the murders of children, of families, of innocent lives. The red on her ledger eventually got to her once she realized it. She worked for the United States for a long time, but eventually she dropped out and lived in her own quiet life. It wasn’t long before a couple of old friends started asking to get off the grid with her, and The Crawl was her way of expanding that to everyone. It was a non-descript bar at first glance, but the only patrons were superheroes who were fed up.

There were more layers to The Crawl at first glance. It had several purposes, several rooms that were not used by the audience of its patrons usually, but they existed because the White Widow created them for the express purpose of fulfilling any off-grid purpose. One room was reserved to birth kids to get them away from the government’s eye. Another room was set aside for off-eye training, another to keep secret relationships secret. The Crawl hid the truth that needed to be hidden, for better or worse. The only requirement patrons had to fill in was to leave their phones before they entered inside, to leave everything that could be tracked back to the bar. She did not want anyone inside the government to mess with it. She forced wifi down in the vicinity, she had waterboarded those who threatened to make it known. She took no risks when it came to this place and everyone had to thank her for it.

She of course, kept tabs on the ongoings of what went down in The Crawl. She would be stupid not to. She knew the names of every kid born here and their parents, she knew everyone who came in to train, she knew the secret relationships. She made sure to keep it a secret, though. She had a lot of trust built up over the years and she would never risk it because it wasn’t her business to sell. This was a service that only she could provide.

There were a few names she kept tabs on mostly because of their parents. Their dangerous combination of powers could put people at risk if the kid learned of their powers and could or couldn’t control them. She kept it mostly private, she would never tell it to the government after all. That alone would complicate her livelihood before they started asking questions. Every so often though, she would send out her own spies to secure something before it went bad. It was like taking bullets out of a gun that fired at random, pointed at humanity itself. It would only take one extremely bad accident to put everything out of control.

There was a single bullet she wanted to make sure she took care before they went bad.

Chapter 2: The Bullet
Carol Linkbolt was supposedly the child of Mr. and Mrs. Linkbolt, a caring couple who just didn’t know what to do with their daughter who was out doing the wrong thing constantly. Was it the crowd? Was it her upbringing? Was it the fact that she wasn’t really their daughter? They didn’t know. Carol never knew about that last fact because they kept it a secret from her. They could never tell it, it was too dangerous. Only they, the original parents who birthed her in The Crawl, and the White Widow knew. That’s five people, but two of those people didn’t know the original parents. They just knew she was a dangerous child.

Carol at the moment, was pressing an orange haired man against the wall with a knife in her free hand, pressing it against his neck. “I asked you for the money, where is it?” she gritted her teeth. The man stared into her furious eyes with a intense look of fear.

“I don’t have it. Please can someone help me…” he whimpered. Carol bit her lip and closed the knife close to his neck, nearly nicking it with the tip of the knife blade.

“You really don’t wanna press your luck here, punk.” she spat into his face. “I can fucking feel your wallet, asshole.”

“There is nothing in it, I swear!” he choked. “God, you really gotta believe me.”

“You know I’m not mugging you, I’m just getting what I deserve out of you. I took care of Patrick, you gotta pay up because you said you didn’t have the money a week ago and that you just needed time. I’ve waited my time, Richard.” Carol growled.

“I’m not Richard!” said the man. Carol loosened his grip as she fished his wallet out. She pulled it out slowly, thumbing through it. Yeah, this dude was not Richard.

“Oh shit, whoops. You look exactly like him, damn.” Carol said, tossing the wallet back onto him as she released her grip. Carol said, tossing the wallet back onto him as she released her grip. The man staggered back and reached for his phone. “Oh god, don’t call the cops!” she teased. “What ever will I do if the cops come running to me…?” she pouted in a sarcastic way before putting her switchblade away.

"I dunno what you think will happen if they do show up, to be honest…" the man said, putting his phone away. "The candid attitude you have is scaring me enough, just leave me alone…" he said, putting up his hood as he walked away. Carol wasn't afraid of starting a war, which was what kept her on top in these kinds of interactions. She pulled out her switchblade and licked the blade's side, which helped relieve some anxiety for her.

She had gotten so demented these last couple years, joining a gang and all, and as scary as it was sometimes, it was also really sort of exciting. She did need to find the actual Richard though, so she began to walk down the alleyway. He was supposed to be around here, yeah? She shook her head. Surely, surely, there was something she could do to help find his stupid ass faster. You didn’t fuck around with the Pythons, they had a hell of a bite. Just like that though, she saw someone dart past. She pulled out her switchblade and ran for them. It was absolutely Richard, she could tell by his cowardly run. She jumped off the side of the brick wall and leapt forward towards him, slamming him into the ground as she sat on top of his back. She checked his hoodie pockets, making sure to find the wallet but not pull it out yet. She aimed the back of the knife against the nick of his back throat, pulling back his hoodie to pull hard on his orange hair. She lifted his head up slowly. “Where’s the money, Richard?” Carol asked. Richard gritted his teeth as his face slammed into the asphalt. “Where’s the money, you goddamn piece of shit!” Richard spat out the asphalt. “I don’t have it right now. I made a couple of bad investments-” he said before slamming back onto the ground. She seemed to have absolutely no mercy for him. “Do you know what you get when you fuck with us, you piece of fucking shit? Do you fucking know?” she asked. She slammed his head into the ground again. A man on a motorcycle, not too far in the distance, parked. He had his helmet on, making him a complete mystery to Richard. He held a spiked bat, twisting it in his gloved hands. The back of his leather jacket bore the insignia of the Pythons. “Give me three more weeks, I swear I can pull the money together, please don’t fucking kill me…” screamed Richard. Carol flicked her thumb against Richard’s scalp, causing him to wince. She got up. “You got three weeks or you’re a dead fucking man.” Carol said, swinging the switchblade before putting it away and putting it in her leather jacket pocket. She walked towards the man in the helmet, smirking. Richard slowly got up, his face heavily bruised. “You better hurry Richard, because next time you aren’t getting off scot-free,” replied the man. Richard nodded and started to walk away really fast. The man set the bat down against the wall and pulled off his helmet, revealing his face. He had a rather sullen but piecing set of green eyes and a rough set of black hair. He grabbed Carol by the waist. “Good job, by the way.” “Oh, come on, it’s simple stuff,” she said, brushing it aside coyily. She licked her lips. “Wanna fuck next to the dumpster?” she purred. “Damn, you really have become one of hell of a freak lately, can’t tell if I like it or not,” the man noted as he wrapped his arms around her waist entirely, kissing her lips. She licked his tongue. “Leaning on liking it though…” he pressed her against the wall, undoing her belt. “Oh by the way, Kade, we are gonna fucking peg tonight; but first I want you inside of me.” she said, purring as she wrapped her legs around his waist. If only she really knew how much power she had that she didn’t know about. The White Widow knew that she was dangerous already, but once she had those powers kick in, she would be an absolute goddamn monster, more than she already was.

Chapter 3: The Diabolical
TBA