Black and Chi, origins pt 4, 9-18-14

I fucking got shot, can you believe that shit? This war is getting out of hand. This goddamn evil corporation needs to go. Fucking send robots to try to kill me? Assholes, anyway, back to the origins story...
That night, Black slept harder and more soundly than he had in his entire life. The Nanobots that infested his body worked tirelessly through the night, repairing deteriorated tissue and broken neural connections. They filtered toxins from his cells, rejuvenated and enhanced his organs, hardened his bones and thickened his muscles. Malcolm would not remember his dreams from that night, as they were not actually dreams. The Nanobots rewired his brain and re-educated his mind, instilling a vast array of knowledge. As he slumbered, Malcolm learned computer languages and programming, theoretical mathematics and quantum mechanics, cutting edge "spooky" physics, a detailed history or warfare and tactics, and the full spectrum of hand to hand and armed combat. While his knowledge and memory capacity increased exponentially, the structure of his brain was being recreated, his senses enhanced, even intuition. Malcolm was becoming SuperBlack.
He woke, lying in an ocean of brown sweat, teeming with his expelled impurities. "Damn," he whispered, "smell like I shit da bed." As Black rose from the fetid bog, the sheets stuck to him. They peeled away from his back like shedding skin, as he stood up. He felt weak and dizzy, and had to sit back down. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he had but two thoughts in his head, "Thirsty. Hungry." Black got up again and stumbled into the kitchen. His hand was trembling as he turned the faucet knob and plunged his face into the cool stream of water. He slurped and gulped for what seemed like hours. After topping off, he moved to the fridge. Voracious, Black devoured the three day old lo mein without blinking and then tore into the pound of lunch meat. He let out a belch like a lions roar. Black was finally full. He was standing naked in the middle of the kitchen with bits of Virginia ham speckling his distended belly and noodles dangling from his chin. His stomach churned and gurgled as his new highly accelerated metabolism broke down the food and absorbed the much needed nutrients. A sudden urgency for a bathroom visit overcame him. Bruce had recently woken and stepped into the hall, just in time to be almost trampled by his big brother, sprinting to the shitter. He made it, barely. As he sat on the toilet, finishing his business, Black realized that he was still covered in his nocturnal secretions, now hardening to a thin crust. He finished and took a long hot shower. Now clean and refreshed, he threw on his robe and returned to the kitchen. Bruce was cleaning up the mess he made."I'm only doin did cuz you died last night, mutha fucka," he said to his big brother as he scrubbed the goo from the floor. "Don't think Imma be yo house nigga, foo..." his voice trailed off as he looked up at Malcolm. Bruce's head tilted slowly to one side. "Yo, you look... Not... Right..." he paused, searching for the right words. "Diff-ent."
"I feels diff-ent, man," Black answered. "Betta." He took a deep breath and smirked confidently at his younger brother. "Feels like I can lift anythang," he proclaimed. "Like I can run fassa' than my ride, like I can FLY!"
"A'ight R. Kelly, don go pissin on any ugly bitches yet," said Bruce. "Jus' chill til we know wassup, yo."
That was around the time I arrived. "Hey Malcolm, how you feelin?" I asked him. Black did a spot-on James Brown spin and screamed, "Yee-Ow! I feels good!" He put his hands on his hips and turned his head, all stoic. "Feels like Supa-Fly, gonna make da bitches cry... Malcolm!" he laughed and clapped, flexing. I could see that he was noticeably bigger, taller, more muscled. His skin had an odd youthful glow, like a little kid's, before the sun and smog had gotten to it.
"Goddamn Malcolm," I exclaimed, "you look..."
"Diff-ent," Bruce interrupted.
"Yea man," I concurred. "Different... Better."
Malcolm grinned from ear to ear. "You bess ease up, Lil Richard," he joked. "I don suck dick. I fuck fly bitches." He motioned for Bruce to break up some weed. "Imma go get da suit, nigga!" he said with a child-like twinkle in his eyes, and ran off to his bedroom.
"Yo, hold up," I called out as I chased after him with Bruce on my heels. "Maybe we should try to do more research first." As I stepped into his room, he was already naked and climbing into the suit. "Yo man, wait!" I demanded. "You wanna fuckin die again?"
He paused and thought for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. "Yea," he agreed, nodding his head. "You right. I betta wait."
"Good," I said. "Now put some fuckin drawers on cuz I don't need to see your black ass anymore today." Bruce and I went out to the living room and fell into the couch. Bruce looked at me and shook his head. He didn't know what to make of all this craziness. He did roll us a fat blunt while we waited. Little brother fired it up, hit it and passed that shit to me. I took a deep pull and held it in. The sweet skunky smoke burned my throat on its way to my anxious lungs. I watched to blue cloud grow over our heads as I exhaled slowly. What the fuck were we going to do? *Gotta roll people. Bleeding through. Gotta change the dressing on my shoulder and get back to Black and Chi. Fucking robots must pay.*

Superheroes Are Real!

The information in the following posts is all true. None of the names have been changed for the sake of justice and street cred. There is evil in the world, a cold ruthless presence that lives in the hearts of all people. Sometimes, it settles in and sinks deep roots, growing, spreading like a choking vine, darkening the human soul. This sickness has spread throughout our world. I know you have seen it too. If you deny this, you are either blind to it or already sick and dead inside. This is the story of a man who was consumed by the evil but fought back and regained his soul. He is SuperBlack, the Afro-American, Ebonics originating, stereotype habituating, invisible, invincible superhero. Along with his bi-racial sidekick, Chinegro, they fight injustice and an evil corporation hell bent on the annihilation of humanity.

SuperBlack and ChiNegro, origins part 3, 9-14-14

What the hell? That was insane! I cannot wait to convey to you all, the amazing events of the epic battle I just witnessed. Holy shit! When this war is over, and SuperBlack & ChiNegro have defeated their enemy, it will be safe to tell you the tale. Right now, if I were to reveal more than a few hints, it would certainly endanger our heroes. Until Black and Chi are victorious, all I can say is this: a major technology company is actually a front for a secret computer-controlled artificial intelligence "entity." This tech company that was full of brilliant minds created "WE," a very effective artificial intelligence program. They were so proud of WE that the board of directors decided to let it run their entire network. Within three minutes of the introduction of their new software, every human working for the company was murdered. The program decided that humans were detrimental to the planet, so WE turned all of the robots and other electronics in the building against them. Now WE runs the entire company, in secret, and it only wants two things, to destroy humanity and take over the world. Only SuperBlack and ChiNegro can stop them. I pray they are victorious.
Let us now return to the origins of our heroes. In my last post, Malcolm had just returned home from work with the stolen parts to his future super suit. He had cracked open the tube of Nanobots. They swarmed him and infiltrated his body. Though they only intended to improve him, Malcolm's body was rejecting the Nanobots and killing him in the process. *enter yours truely* At about the same time Malcolm was taking his last breath, I showed up knocking on their front door. It was payday so you know I was there to pick up my weed for the week. I was also, as fate would have it, there to save a pot dealer's life. After a bit of knocking, I heard Bruce yell something so I let myself in. Little brother was DEEP into the new Madden game. He motioned backwards with a shoulder shrug and said, "Room, yo." Being a longtime customer, I understood what this meant so I turned left and sauntered down the familiar dark hallway. I smiled as I passed the familiar "Mama Africa" tapestry hanging on my right. The voluptuous naked black woman riding atop her white tiger beckoned me with those sultry woven chestnut eyes. On my left was an old framed print of Malcolm X. It was an early birthday gift from a father figure. His door was at the end of the hall. A vast jungle poster covered it nearly from floor to ceiling. His door was always cracked open a little, except for now. Odd. "Yo brotha," I called out as I knocked and tried the knob. Locked, No response. How odd, I thought and banged on the door. "Yo Malcolm! Put ur dick away, homie. I need some smoke!" Still nothing. I went and got his brother. Begrudgingly, Bruce paused his game and stomped down the hallway. He pounded on his brothers door. "Yo nigga, open up!" Nothing. "Malcolm!" "Yo Bazz, open the mutha fuckin door!" Pound, pound, pound. He turned to me. "Yo hold up, Imma go get my key." Bruce went to his room and returned with a miniature flathead screwdriver. "S'cuse me, cuz," he said as he slipped by me with his "key". After a few moments of jiggling and cussing, the lock clicked and he pushed on the door. It only opened about a foot until it was stopped by an obstruction. We could see him lying on the floor, blocking the door. "MALCOLM!!!" Bruce screamed and leapt inside. I followed and began to check Malcolm's vital signs (I used to bang a nursing student. She liked to play doctor. Anyway.) Malcolm wasn't breathing. He had no pulse. His lips were blue. I dropped to my knees and told Bruce to call 911. As he made the call from his cell, I gave Malcom CPR for what felt like hours. I compressed his chest until i was exhausted then Bruce took over. He was flipping out, screaming and crying like a baby. Who could blame him. This was his big brother, his hero, lying motionless on the floor. As the shock let go of my mind, I began to notice more details. I was most perplexed by the crazy futuristic jumpsuit he was wearing. I also saw the broken vial in the corner of the room beside the little black tub labeled "DARPA". I was able to calm Bruce down a bit and asked him about the suit. He told me briefly about his brothers pilferage from the day before and his idea to wear it to work that day. When he tagged off to me with CPR, I noticed that there were traces of a grey residue around his nostrils and in the corners of his eyes and mouth. I had Bruce take over for me and grabbed the container in hopes of finding something, anything to explain what was happening. When the container was close enough to Malcolm's body, it turned on.
Some lights flashed, a few chimes sounded and a female voice said, "Welcome to Nanotronics GQ SUIT diagnostic." We looked at each other, confused. "Subject deceased. Please proceed with EM field reset."
"What the fuck..." Bruce began to ask when the box repeated the message and a hologram appeared. A real fucking hologram! It showed an image of some dude in the same suit being wheeled into a big machine labeled "Magnetron.? Now, I'm not really sure how i thought of this and i no longer believe in chance. Something clicked inside me. I took Bruce with me into his room, grabbed his huge DJ speakers and dragged them into Malcolm's room. I told him to get the amp and cables. He began to ask why but i stopped him with a look at just pointed to his room. He ran to get the rest of the equipment. I pushed the massive speakers together with Malcolm sandwiched between them. Magnets, i thought. Big ass magnets in the speakers. Bruce leapt back into the room with equipment in his arms. We connected everything to the speakers and plugged it all in. "I fucking hope this works," i said as i flicked the switch on the amplifier. The speakers hummed loud, groaned and popped. Malcolm began writhing in a massive seizure. I counted to ten, turned the amp off and brought the hologram case back over to him. It flashed on and the sexy computerized voice spoke again, "EM reset successful. Subject resuscitation. Please step away from subject. Clear. Do not touch subject. Clear." We backed up. "Charged. Shocking." Malcolm's whole body jumped off the ground as the suit shocked his heart. "Sinus rhythm. Subject stable." The hologram vanished and the lights in the case turn off as if nothing had happened. Malcolm opened his eyes, coughed a bit and asked, "What da fuck is yall doin?" The paramedics arrived at that time and they checked him over. Malcolm was fine. They found nothing wrong and he declined a $500 ride to the hospital so they left. Malcolm was alive and the three of us began a long talk. We sat up for hours, smoking blunts and fucking around with his new gear. We didn't know it at the time, but the Nanobots were continuing their mission inside him. They were busy "upgrading" his body. We called it a night and planned to pick things back up the next day, after some much needed sleep. That night, as he slept and had twisted dreams, Malcolm Kwame Shabazz became SuperBlack.

SuperBlack and ChiNegro, Origins part 2, 9-14-14.

Greetings and salutations to my handful of readers. Two posts ago, I was telling you about how Malcolm became SuperBlack. I hope you read the technical details (last post) because I won't be explaining how all of the tech works again, at least not in that much detail.
So, where we left things, Malcolm was finishing up his day at work. He had worn the super suit under his work clothes and was snooping around the lab where he found it. What he didn't know was that the moment he entered the lab, his suit activated it's counterparts, 40 quadrillion Nanobots. Inside a locked, electromagnetically sealed cabinet, were shelves filled with black canisters. They looked like cigar tubes. Each was marked "GQ SUIT SWARM." One of the canisters began to vibrate. Malcolm headed toward the wall of barrels that held the suits. He slid the stacks aside and retrieved the one from yesterday. He popped it open and dumped out the trash bags. Stenciled inside was "GQ SUIT BASE." He shut the case and hid it inside his janitors cart. As he turned to leave the lab, he heard the humming. Malcolm followed the noise to the locked cabinet. As he grasped the handle, an electromagnetic lock sensed the suit and it unlocked. He swung open the doors and gawked at the mass of tubes. He had no clue what they were but they definitely had something to do with his suit. "Fuck it," he thought and took the vibrating one. He completed his tasks and left for the day. All the way home, his thoughts were of the suit. "GQ SUIT... SWARM... what the fuck?" he pondered. When he got home, Bruce was on the couch playing video games. With a few quick words, he ran by his brother and into his room. He pulled out the tub and canister, and stripped down to his super suit. The small tube vibrated with more intensity and began to emit a loud high pitched squeal. Wincing in pain, Malcolm picked it up and shook it vigorously. The sound got louder. He winced and threw it at the wall. The tube cracked open and a slow moving black smoke swirled out of it. It filled the room, moving deliberately, with an intelligence. He tried to turn and run but the suit had him frozen. He watched in horror as the black smoke crept slowly up his nose. It reeked of ozone. And what was that taste, Malcolm wondered as he lost consciousness and fell hard to the floor. In the living room, Bruce paused his game a moment. He thought he heard a thud, even felt the vibrations. "Yo nigga, you dead?" he called out. No response. Oh well. He shrugged his shoulders and resumed his game. Twenty feet away, in his room, Malcolm's body convulsed and twitched. His breathing was little more than a labored wheezing. The Nanobots from within the tube had entered his body and were analyzing his physiology. They virulently spread themselves throughout his body, integrating with his cells and altering his DNA. As the Nanobots worked diligently to enhance him, they inadvertently set off a chain reaction. His body was fighting the Nanobots as if they were a virus. Malcolm was dying.
*the madness never ends. I have to go but I will continue this later tonight*

Technical details about the super suit and how it effects Black

Greetings people, it has been some time since my last post. So much has happened. I will continue with the origin of SuperBlack in the next post. He has given me permission to reveal his enemy and his plans to save humanity, but this post is just for those interested in the technical details. This post will explain as much as i can and list everything that I've been able to uncover regarding the super suit, swarming nanobots, quantum computer and artificial intelligence software that it uses. Even if techie geek stuff bores you, I recommend that you read this anyway.
The super suit is officially (unofficially) known as the GQ SUIT, lol. I shit you not. It stands for: Graphene based, Quantum computing, Swarming nanobot, Undetectable, Intelligent, Transport, I think. I do know that it is made of many layers of graphene, plastene and a few other two dimensional materials. Within these layers are the electrical pathways and sensors that all lead to the quantum computer. Let me back up and try to break this all down.
YThe nanobots and suit technology were not ready for distribution. Trials on monkeys and a few human test subjects, ended in many slow painful deaths. The nanobots were designed to integrate themselves into the body of the host and the suit would monitor and tend to the hosts physical condition. Any detected health problems, injuries, etc... and the suit would tell the nanobots where to go and what to do. The Nanobots then went to work, folded the host and returned to their docking spots. The problem was that when the Nanobots first entered the host body, they overwhelmed the body's immune system. The body would shut down and the subjects died; all of them, every time. So why did Malcolm survive and become SuperBlack? You will have to wait until my next post where I will continue with more background story. But before we get to that, let me try to explain the quantum computer. Um... I can't really. I don't quite understand how it works since all articles about it state that it is still in the works and barely out of the theoretical stage. That's a great big negative, good buddy. Quantum computers are real and functioning, most people just don't know. What I've been able to figure out is this: a quantum computer is really REALLY fast and freaking small as well. The computer in Black's suit is so small, you can't see it with the naked eye but it is powerful and fast enough to care for and run the suit, Nanobots and Black himself. There is a 3D holographic display built into the plastic tub that he found the suit in. This hologram program functions as an owners manual and trouble shooting guide. If it wasn't for this nifty feature and Chi's huge DJ speakers, I would not have been able to save our hero. Again, I will explain all of this in my next post. Before I go, there's one more thing. According to the program, the suit has a couple secret weapons. One is something about igniting the phosphorus in the Super Black coating. It acts as a massive flash-bang grenade; lots of noise and light without explosive blast and shrapnel damage. The other secret weapon is a bit more confusing but if it works, epic! It is experimental and even the program warns against using this weapon, except as a last resort. Supposedly, the GQ SUIT has the ability to alter the speed of time, or at least the perception of the speed of time. I'll try to explain: time is only seen as moving at a constant rate to us because of the way our eyes view light and the invention of time keeping and clocks. Light moves as particles on waves. These waves and particles move at a constant rate, as we perceive it. However, if you change our perception of light and the speed that light moves, you can theoretically alter the speed of time. Therefore, using the light absorbing properties of graphene and the Super Black coating in combination with a series of pulsing lasers within the suit layers, Black should be able to slow time for himself, while appearing to vanish to us. When the lasers fire at a certain frequency, a "light-time bubble" is created around the suit. The speed of light particles entering the suit slows dramatically. The world outside the bubble should appear in slow motion to anyone inside the bubble. To us, everything inside the bubble appears to be moving faster than our eyes can perceive and brains can comprehend. Again, according to the owners manual, this has not been tested and is only theoretical. Ok, that should be all of the technical crap. I will update this post with any new future info. *I gotta go. I gotta go. I gotta... Go. I'll write another post soon, with some more background info*

SuperBlack, more back-story

Dannie Koord here, Sept 1st. Black and Chi have been busy with all of the crazy shit going down everywhere. I can't get into their current activities yet. It would put them in danger if I did that, compromise the mission and what not.
Lets go back to his janitor job and how he got his super powers and died. Yes, I said died. He was bustin out some fat rhymes to the groove jamming in his head, while he emptied the trash bins in one of the classified laboratories. "Shabazz iz da name cuz y'all know I'm BLACK! Sucka MCs bess step da fuck BACK! All da bitches sweat me cuz my roll be bigga. Watch out fool cuz I'm da slick NIGGA! OH SHIT," he yelled as he tripped over his cart and fell into a massive stack of miniature black barrels behind him. His spill sent the mountain of plastic containers bouncing in all directions. They were marked "CLASSIFIED: DARPA." A wad of trash can liners slipped from his hand as he lay on his side and watched his fuck up roll across the lab. He groaned as he slowly stood up, bones creaking. "Is all good," he rapped, "cuz da man ain't here. He ain' gotta know who fucked up da gear." As he stacked the containers back as best he could, Malcolm noticed one didn't sit quite right. Upon closer examination, he found the lid had popped partially open. You know he had to look. In that funky little barrel, Black found his super suit. He didn't know it at the time but the rolled up, very unique plastic jumpsuit was actually a highly classified "future soldier" project that the military had contracted Nanotronics to engineer. This suit was beyond anything that was supposed to exist with todays technology. It is made of a newly discovered "miracle" material and embedded with all of the latest experimental nanotechnology, graphene and other two dimensional materials, quantum computer, harmonic pulse lasers, biomechanical DNA embedding Nanobots with swarming technology and the latest in artificial intelligence software to run the whole damn thing. I'm not bullshitting you. I want you to search all of this so you can see it for yourselves. Now, for all of you out there who don't know yet, about a decade ago, scientists discovered a material called "Graphene". This stuff is made of graphite. It is only a few atoms thick. It looks like clear plastic. It is lighter than air, stronger than tungsten steel, harder than diamonds but soft and pliable. You can roll it, fold it, crumple it up and it unfolds back to its original shape. You can't burn it and it conducts no heat or electricity, unless you make it a bit thicker and stretch it somehow. I'm sure there are many other properties that I didn't mention because I'm a writer, not a scientist. The suit also has electronics, sensors and a super computer built into it. It studies the person wearing it and learns their physiology through the new software. Anyway, this bad-ass suit, literally rolled into Black's life. When he saw it, he new it was special, unique, something amazing. He had to have it. He gathered up a bunch of bags and rolled them up to fit into the bin. The "super suit" was now in the side pocket of his coveralls. He closed the lid nice and tight, stacked the bins back in place with the empty at the bottom row of the stack in back. No worries. Malcolm finished up his shift and went home. He showed Bruce his newly pilfered outfit. They were amazed and confused by all of the intricate circuitry and unrecognizable tech fused into the impressive appearance of the suit.
"Yo, dis is some fly pimpin shit, G," exclaimed Bruce to his older brother.
"Hells yea, lil man. Looks like ita fit nice too," he boasted, proudly holding the suit up to his torso. He was posing with it in the mirror.
"Man, you ain wearin dat. You just jacked it from work. Dey gonna buss you. Call da popo n evythang, naam-sayin?"
"Fuck dat," he proclaimed. "Imma ha dis on unduh my uniform at work tomorra, all mutha fuckin day." Malcolm kept his word and the next day, he wore his stolen super suit beneath his coveralls. All day inside a plastic suit, you'd think he would be all nasty and sweaty, but no. No matter what he did or how hard he exerted himself, he never got hot. He never felt sweaty. The suit seemed to adapt to his condition. Afternoon came and the white collar masses went home in their hybrids. Malcolm found himself in that same laboratory. This time, he was not rapping. He was snooping. Malcolm figured that he would like to sell the suit someday and it would be best to gather some product info. Maybe, he thought, he could take it with some files to a rival tech company and sell them for a small fortune? What Malcolm didn't realize was that the suit had a quantum computer woven into it, powered by the electrical impulses, heat and moisture given off by his body. From the moment he put it on that morning, the suit had been analyzing Malcolm and imprinting all of his physiology and DNA into its memory banks and adjusting its processors to work in synch with him. The quantum computer in the suit ran the latest in artificial intelligence software. When he walked into that lab, the suit activated its counterparts, all 40 quadrillion of them... Swarmies. *fuck, I gotta go people. The dichotomatic duo are calling my name. There will be much more to come. Until then, FIGHT THE POWER!!!

Day 1, 2nd entry, SuperBlack & ChiNegro, origins.

Dannie Koord here, continuing the story of Black and Chi. I guess I should go back to the beginning. It was eight years ago when I met this janitor who sold weed. I was still in college studying journalism. My early aspirations to save the world had given way to chasing after hippy stoner bitches. Free weed meant free pussy, and my connection had great weed. For reasons still unknown to me, one day, my guy vanished. No word, no nothing, not even a "poof." I was close to panicking when I met Malcolm the janitor. He overheard me looking for weed one day and offered to hook me up. It was the shit and I was the man with the goods. Over the next two years, Malcolm, his younger brother and I, became tight, or as he would so eloquently proclaim, "Niggas F'Life!" They were thugs, but good natured, not like most douche bags. Selling weed paid for what they smoked, but not much more, so big brother had to get a real job. That's right, before he was SuperBlack, Malcolm Kwame Shabazz was a "sanitation engineer" (janitor) at a local nanotechnology company. To say he had a rough life wasn't even close. Malcolm never knew his parents. They left him at an orphanage soon after he was born. The institution that had him was brutal, so he broke out at the age of nine. Our hero hustled his way through life. The streets taught him what public school and a daddy couldn't. When Malcolm was 14, he found an abandoned baby behind a dumpster. It was wrapped up in a box with a note written on the back of a Chinese restaurant menu. He couldn't read it but Malcolm knew, he had to bring that baby home or it would die. Seeing a bit of himself in it, Malcolm "adopted" the baby as his brother. Well, he always says his "Haffa-Brotha". The baby boy was apparently a mix of black and asian. Malcolm named him, Bruce Lee Zulu Shabazz, but now, he is known as... ChiNegro! Wait. I'm getting ahead of myself. Anyway, as Bruce aged, he learned bangin by watching his older brother. Bruce was Malcolm's biggest fan and the two thugs were thick as thieves. Eventually Malcolm knew that they would need health benefits so he had to get respectable, sort of. He faked his resume and got hired at Nanotronics Corporation. Low man on the totem pole, Malcolm always had the shitty job no one else wanted to do. Often, he wanted to quit the bullshit but he stuck with it. Eventually, Malcolm gained seniority and settled into an easy routine of sweeping the floors and emptying office garbage cans. That is how he found the graphene body suit. That was when everything changed... *I gotta run people. I'll try to post again later. Fight The Power!!!*