Randomly-inspired thought: I have a sudden urge to run something based on Strikeforce: Morituri, an old Marvel book that had a significant amount of promise. To sum it up, S: M by way of Renton,
Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose staring the news, worrying about our boys in the war but never knowing how close the Horde are to taking over the planet. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in blissful ignorance of what people have to do just so humanity could survive.
"I chose not to choose life. I chose something else. Superpowers rather than mindless Sundays. And here I am with twelve hours to live in the engine room of a Horde spaceship desperately hoping I can prime this bomb before a security patrol finds me and tortures me for the rest of my tiny life.
"Choose your future. Choose Strikeforce: Morituri."