Hank sprang back, but found himself locked into the hand's grip. The Man With No Name's metal plate was keeping him from being crushed, for now, but the guitar and the revolver were unusable. [I]Have to go[/I] a cappella...

"Duhhh duh duh dun... duh dun... duh dun... Can't touch this!"

Momentarily intangible, Hank fell backward, through the hand and the floor, and became slid again just in time to smack into the floor of one of the offices in the basement. Fortunately, the fires hadn't spread down much yet. He stood and started doing some breathing exercises to get as prepared as he could...

The time to recover was almost enough. Almost.

Hank brought his guitar up enough to deflect the fist slightly upwards, and he started to duck, but he was still clipped just above his left temple, just as he got one shot off at Eymber.

Hank collapsed to the ground, unconscious, with his guitar cracked apart lying next to him. The Eastwood costume, including the pistol and breastplate, faded away, revealing Hank's sneaker, blue jeans, and t-shirt, the legend underneath the guitar icon on the t-shirt advising "Keep Calm and Rock On."

Running along the sidewalks of Alexandria just near the Starlight Hotel, earbuds plugged in and the world tuned out, was a slightly sweaty and now alarmed Wyatt Keating. The light brown haired, hazel eyed boy skidded to a stop as he spied the chaos spilling forth from the lobby, the familiar whine or sirens in the air, wondering with a start if his Dad might be over there, working with the other officers, or if SWAT had even been called in yet.

He was racing to the scene, to the fire and scrams before he finished the thought, pushing through the crowds and towards the chaos with hurried 'sorrys' and 'pardon me!' as he just reaches a building adjacent to the battleground inside, assessing what is going on. Police officers are exchanging fire with...armed troops of some sort, and no hero seems to be out here helping the cops on the outside, and the sounds of combat reach even him inside here on the street telling him heroes are indeed on the scene, just not HERE, here.

His train of thought is interrupted as he catches sight of a man racing from the lobby in the attempt to make a break for it, away from Eymber and Sunstroke's rampage inside, only to be struck by a bullet in the leg, yelping and falling to the ground in a anguished heap. Against his brief thought of self preservation, he races to the man, already tearing off a strip of cloth from his red tee to wrap around and maintain pressure on the wound, coupled with his hands, as he speaks firmly over the din of gunfire.

"Sir?! Sir, I need you to listen to me! You need to lie down, help me put pressure on this wound and look at me, alright!? You're going to be-" He ducks as a bit of gunfire rings out and a Vril soilder is struck down.

"FIne." He grimaces but keeps the pressure consistent, hoping that there is now some breathing room for medics to get to the man now.

In the basement office, a groan could be heard, coming from under the dome Eymber had made, followed by the sort of inarticulate noises a gagged person might make. Then a deep breath, followed by what could be the humming of a tune.

If our hypothetical observer looked through the tiny gaps in the dome, a tiny bit of red cloth could be seen sticking out of Hank's mouth. As the humming continued, the cloth moved down, slowly unrolling from the ball. As the obstruction cleared, the humming could be resolved into words, and the cloth strip moved more quickly, enabling Hank to finish the song intelligibly.

[I]Hey! (hey) You! (you) Get out of my mouth! Don't hang around boy; two's a crowd in my mouth baby[/i]

Hank caught his breath again, and considered his position. He came up with a plan he didn't like much...

Meanwhile, our hypothetical observer may or may not have noticed that the guitar was glowing as its pieces moved back together...

http://www.metrolyrics.com/get-off-of-my-cloud-lyrics-rolling-stones.html

There were two reasons Hank didn't like his plan. One was because the "song" was a two-line rhyme set to the tune of "Yankee Doodle". Because he couldn't make any other music, he hummed it three times.

The other reason was that, as earlier he had taken on the gear and abilities of an amalgam of Clint Eastwood characters, this would give him powers from a character from an old SF novel and a character, from an SF TV series of the Nineties, named after the author. Both characters were not people he wanted in his head.

He now whistled the tune three times.

But they had the sort of power that would let him save some people, so he would put up with having to suppress their@$$4013 tendencies.

Finally he sang the two lines, three times over. It was as he finished that the magic activated the powers he wanted.

[i]Gully Foyle is my name, and Terra is my nation.
Deep space is my dwelling place, the stars my destination![/i]

There was a flash as he jaunted from under the dome to the top of it, and he took stock of his equipment. Bester's Psi Corp uniform, check. Slightly crushed guitar case, check. Almost healed guitar... Hank rolled off the dome to his feet and picked it up. Now to use Bester's powers to find the people and avoid the Vril... He caught an image of a Vril placing an object on a support pillar in the parking lot.

OK, new plan. He jaunted to a spot behind the Vril, used a psi-blast to stun him and his partner that had been watching while he worked, grabbed the bomb, and jaunted back up to the street.

"They're blowing the building," he said to the policeman, showing him the bomb. Then he jaunted about 60 miles out over the sea, dropped it, and returned. He scanned for other bombers...

(edited for clarity ^_^)

Ember sent his hands skyward, a massive pillar about a wide as the hall shooting through the floors and upwards to the roof of the Building, pulling his hands back slowly, as the pillar was tearing get its ways through the floors and ceiling, now trying to destroy the hotel. "It's been smooth lady."

He darted off to the opposite side of the hall, trailing his arms behind him to control the huge pillar, dragging it at about 12 miles per hour through the hall.

At the moment, a real hero showed up, streaking past Wyatt in a blur of color and motion. It zig-zagged through the police and barricades before firing across the parking lot to disappear through the hotel entrance. Within seconds, the parking lot in front of the hotel began to fill with bewildered people as the blur carried them out, one and two at a time, depositing them a safe distance from the burning building.

Within a few minutes, there were nearly 150 people huddled in the parking lot, many of them being tended to by the police and paramedics. Some of them had injuries, but most were just suffering from varying levels of smoke inhalation.

After helping to set up a small formation of cots, the blur finally slowed down enough to reveal a hero in a silver costume chased with red accents and gold trim. The symbol on his chest was a rolling [url=http://images.gofreedownload.net/flame-tires-vector-background-238618.jpg]wheel[/url] with a flaming tail. Victims, paramedics, and cops approached him in groups to give him handshakes, hugs, or backslaps. He accepted the congratulations good-naturedly, but kept an eye on the hotel, waiting to see if Liberty Girl needed help.

"Partner gone, heh, there my que to book it myself."

As he said those words, his body DE materialized in a puff of smoke and floating embers, the massive pillar doing the same, becoming smoke with him as he moved through the air, his share of damage done, as he floated through the gaping hole in the roof, fast as a bullet, his body coming back together a good 500 feet away, then again, and again, until he was well away from the crime scene standing in a deserted lot, his hand on his communicator.

"Cybershot, Sunstroke, the Deed is done! We heading home?"

Liberty Girl blasted out of the hole after Sunstroke, bounding across several rooftops in pursuit, but the flying villainess was too fast and maneuverable.

As a last ditch, she tore a softball-sized chunk of concrete off the edge of the roof she was on, led her target for a few seconds, then pitched an arcing shot at the madly cackling woman. Not even waiting for the result, she turned and headed back towards the hotel, muttering to herself. "I hope it breaks a few ribs."

-------------------------------------

Back in the parking lot, Overdrive suddenly found himself practically being mugged by another speedster. He reached out and grabbed the kid by the shoulders, siphoning off his excess speed so he resumed moving and talking at a normal pace. "Whoa whoa whoa there. Slow down Slick."

As he absorbed the power from Wyatt, he felt the resonance of the Celerity Force. The "taste" of the power was still raw and surging, letting Overdrive know that the kid was a very new speedster. "C'mon. Let's talk."

In a blur, they were both gone. A few hundred feet of altitude and a mile away, he skidded to a halt on a rooftop and set Wyatt down. "Yeah, I'm Overdrive. And you are?"

Hank staggered under the pain of dozens of Vril troopers dying. He cut off his link to them so quickly that he also dismissed the Foyle/Bester persona. Once again in his street clothes, he considered his options. Pursuit of the villains would be difficult at best; he'd not be able to resume either of the personas he'd used today for hours. And while the other persona available was good for social interaction and assessing investments, JW wasn't going to help much here-and-now. So Hank set his guitar and his case down and offered a pair of hands to help out the paramedics.

Wyatt takes a moment to think, running his fingers through his hair as he speaks.

"How am I a metahuman? What did I do? What do you mean Celerity Force? This...this is a lot. This is too much!" He paces on the roof for a bit, regaining his composure steadily.

"What now-what's going to change about my life now?" Sighs.