Template:Featured Articles/18-2024

Moment of Awesome - Arthur Centino/Longshot: With Death in New York and Hope down, Arthur steps in. Showing how dangerous his powers can really be. The man's eye was pulsing steadily. Unseen, the threads of probability tensed. He let loose the dagger in a fluid flourish, and its handle bounced squarely off Death's forehead. Another lucky shot. "Sorry," Arthur said. "I had trouble believing someone could be so melodramatic, and I figured you might not be real. Had to double check, you know?" The dagger clattered to Death's feet as the Horseman simply stared at him, unimpressed. "I take this to mean the two of you plan to persist until terminally prevented from doing so, then." With a heavy sigh, the Horseman rolled his neck and took a step forward. "Well, if we must, let's get it over w—" Death’s intent was the final roll of the dice needed. The taught threads pulled tight, and Arthur’s eye flared. One has a 1 in 15,300 chance of being hit by lightning. A sharp boom interrupted the Horseman’s words, followed by a shrill approaching roar. Arthur picked up his pace as he crossed the distance to the fallen Hope. Only 1 in 8 million people are struck by lightning twice in their lives. His boots landed close to one of the few scattered knives that one actually struck true, somehow puncturing an intake to a discarded propane tank toppled in Hope’s show of telekinetic force. It hissed as it leaked vaporized gas. Now, the chances of being in a building collapse are hard to quantify. Were the swaying walls in the abandoned structure caused by lines of forces, or a result of neglect? Had the previous flooding underscored years of a weakening foundation? Either way, the cracking of concrete joined the building cacophony. They say the chance of being hit by falling space debris is less than a billion to 1. The roar crescendoed as everything happened at once. What has previously been only a streak in the sky above New York had steadily grown in size during Arthur’s stalling, the approaching remnant of a discarded rocket fuselage burning bright as it reentered the atmosphere. It struck right in the center of the improvised circle of knives. Right into Death. At the same time, the gathering forces of stress finally broke the nearby derelict brownstone. Sheets of concrete and drywall fell as the building collapsed into its sinking foundation. Another strike of lightning was the cherry on top, igniting the gas in a sonorous THWUM. Arthur vaulted over reigning debris and rolled, scooping the redheaded girl into his arms to just miss being smashed by a slab of concrete. A slab that provided excellent cover for the small canister explosion.