Fire_Guardian_EU

In all curiousity, once everyone is back up 100%, I'd quite like to tackle Manticore at some point. Or Croatoa, since it's pretty short.

Anyone else interested?

Very nice. Very short, but very nice.

Chapter Five

A

SAMMY

Jason flew over the rooftops in a rage. The thought that someone could switch off the base teleporters at will was bad enough, but…the simple, cold murder of Sarriss? Just to get his attention? That was inconceivably evil, beyond that which he was used to. As the Fire Guardian, he was used to stopping muggers, and members of The Council. Occasionally he’d come up against a foe who laughingly called himself an Arch Villain, but with his team by his side, they were never much problems.

His team.
Cara.

As he flew through the various sub-areas of Paragon City, which the occupants had dubbed as ‘zones’, his memory flashed back on a few years after Sammy was born, when the Fifth Column had resurfaced. Jason had jumped to the task of stopping them with unabashed glee, and it had been Sarriss, herself, that noticed that he had been using lethal force on the Column agents. Since this was a reportable act, and Sarriss had a duty to turn him in to the authorities, if not arrest him herself (an act she didn’t really want to try, as his helmet could probably do some serious damage to her fist) she pulled him aside after one such mission, and quietly, gently, and affectionately yelled at him. At the time, he had shrugged it off, and told her that he didn’t care about what happened to Nazi’s. What Sarriss had said in reply made him scowl, today.
“We’re Heroes, Jason. Heroes. That means we never kill. It’s against our code.”
‘Well,’, Jason thought to himself. ‘It’s probably for the best that she isn’t going to see what I do to this son of a [censored], then.’

*

I watched as my dad…The Fire Guardian, landed on the rooftop, and stood opposite me, his arms folded. He looked almost…serene, his cape flapping in the wind. Although he couldn’t see my face, hidden as it was behind a forcefield mask, I smirked and nodded at him.

I had spent my time in science class wisely, learning all I could about the apparatus behind the so-called Power Belts. These devices emitted a shaped and coloured costume, which various heroes used as clothing. Not all of them used this method, but it seemed a safer alternative to normal clothes. My father had, in his time, altered his costume, and added different costumes, or memory ‘slots’, so that he could walk around in jeans and a shirt, as well as a tuxedo, and still have access to his primary costume, which I was looking at now. I knew that the costume I wore must have unnerved him somewhat, as I was wearing my mothers old Power Belt. Admittedly, I had altered it somewhat, but the general appearance I had was one which was strikingly similar to the costume she had worn as ‘The Corruptor’, a villain who had nearly killed The Fire Guardian, three times before I was born.

My family was insane.

“Mr Tucker!” I greeted him. “How nice of you to join me so quickly.”
He dipped his head, ever so slightly. “I had no real choice, did I?”
“Oh, there’s always choice, Mr Tucker.”
He flexed one of his hands, and ignited his fire sword. Shrugging, I relaxed my body, and waited. I was sure that, no matter what he had in mind for me, I could best my father in hand to hand combat.

When he swung at me, I stepped back, but realised, too late, that I had grossly underestimated him. This wouldn’t be the one sided fight that I had believed it would be, or hoped for. My Dad, not knowing or caring who I was, was out for blood; I was only too happy to oblige him.

*

Slash. Parry. Punch high. Sweep kick low.

Every action we make, every action we don’t make. Every single thing we do, or say, or think about…all these things give us the power of life or death. Not just over one person, but over the entire world. One of our own creation.

I refer not to the world of our perceptions, the self-contained visualisations we have of our place in the world, and how we walk through it. I refer, instead, to the world of limitless actions, of limitless consequences, the world borne of belief, and logic, and emotion. Every move we make, no matter how slight, creates another, parallel world.

A quick snap, and an arm breaks.

Let us take the most simple of actions. Do you leave your home and catch a bus to meet your friends now, or wait ten minutes? Surely something so small, so inconsequential, would not impact the world in any way. However, fate works in curious ways. If you leave to catch the bus now, you would get it. The bus driver would see you waiting, and slow down before stopping, so that you can board. He drives on, safely, contentedly, secure in his world.

The Fire Sword disengages and falls from the lifeless arm.

If, however, you waited the ten minutes, you would not catch that bus. The bus driver, therefore, would have no reason to slow down. Therefore, it follows that the car coming out of the junction up ahead would be ploughed into, thanks to the driver thinking more about the end of his shift, instead of the road ahead. The two people in the car die instantly. The bus driver spends the last minutes of his life impaled upon the central column of his steering wheel, his death mourned by his wife and two children, who grow up crippled by fear of cars, and driving. The heavily pregnant woman on that bus falls from her seat onto her stomach, her unborn son taking his mothers’ weight. The woman suffers internal bleeding, and, despite the best efforts of her doctors, dies on the operating table. Her son was killed instantly, his fragile spine unable to bear the pressure.

A fist shoots out, and smashes into a stomach.

Now, look ahead 35 years. The son, who would have been a doctor in a research laboratory, never makes the accidental discovery of a cure for cancer. The man who stands in his stead didn’t have the same drive, the same flair for the imagination. Millions of people die.
The two people in the car, themselves, are of no consequence to history. The families they come from, although originally distrusting of each other, take this tragedy and form a bond. A son and a daughter from these families, united in their grief, begin dating, and have a family. They live happily ever after, but untouched by even a modicum of the greatness that the unborn doctor was destined for.

Your friends, expecting you at the earlier time, move on. They go to a bar, and one of your friends, the one with the big mouth and the inability to close it, gets into trouble by insulting a man a foot taller and two feet wider than he is. You, unaware of your friends location, aren’t there to step in, to intercede and stop your friend from making a mistake – one which, judging by the knife the insulted man keeps in his pocket, is a fatal one. You catch up to your friends, just in time to help try to staunch the blood from your friend’s stab wound in his chest, too late to do anything but shed tears as he dies. Another life ruined.

Countless lives lost – a future uncertain. A cure for one of the biggest medical killers in the world, never created. Your social circle decimated. All because you decided to wait an extra ten minutes.

A howl in pain, and one of the two men stumbles back a few feet, flailing his arms as his wounded opponent reaches for a discarded weapon.

Parallel worlds are created by something smaller than even the tiniest of choices. A word here, a gesture there, can change our opinion of another person. That creates a rift whereas, before, there could have been camaraderie, friendship, even love. The child you could have made with this person now alienated will, in another Earth, a dimension like ours, but not quite, marries, and their child marries, and so on, and so forth. Hundreds of years from now, your genes and teachings to your original child would have brought about world peace. Sadly, in this world, the world of your choosing, this is no longer possible. All because you said an innocent word a fraction of a second too late, or smiled too soon. In that world, everyone lives in harmony. In this one, the human race fought itself to extinction.

The two Tuckers, locked in mortal combat, each breathed heavily, worn down by their battle with each other, when one saw an opening, took it…

The only consolation I can offer you is that, since you are unaware of the outcome of your decision, you are blissfully ignorant that you are, in fact, the unknowing architect of humankind’s ultimate self destruction.

They say that a butterfly flapping its’ wings over San Francisco can cause a hurricane in China. Some people believe that a butterfly is too small, too insignificant to the grand scheme of things, to make such a thing happen. However, in a universe where a smile now can bring about the death of all mankind 500 years from now, I ask you: Is ‘insignificant’ really a term that can be applied to anything?

The other Tucker grins like a feral animal, and slashes the Fire Sword down upon the shoulder of his opponent, cauterising flesh as it slices through bone. Now they are both without the use of one arm. Maintaining balance.

So, in a world where nothing is truly insignificant, where every action has ripples, cause and effect, on what scale would you place a fight, to the death, of father and son? Superpowered veteran fighter, versus massively strong amateur? One old but experienced, one younger, more brash, using brute strength and a genius at tactics to supplement his lack of skill?

You may say, dear friends, that this is all but a butterfly flapping its’ wings.
I say to you, this is no less than Armageddon.

Not for what is now. But rather, for what it will be. The outcome of this fight is not that it is uncertain. Few things are fixed constants in the Multiverse – our friend Temple spoke of such things earlier. However, outside of his ken, there are more constants than he knows. One of them is this: in this fight, there will be only one victor. One will stand, and one will fall. Across all the parallel worlds, in all the Multiverse, this is the only one where Jason Tucker and Sammy Tucker fight to the death. The outcome, to you, right now, is unknown. The ‘Schrödinger’s Cat’ of my tale. However, to me, it is already known. It has already happened. Events set in motion beyond The Dark Mirror, beyond The Flames of Justice, back beyond the very beginning of this story, all those months ago when I started to tell it.

A scream rings out, and one of the men charge the other, using his incredible strength to hold the other high above his head, even with one on arm. He throws his helpless opponent down, impaling him on a railing.

This fight is already won, and already lost. You have seen the end. Now witness the beginning.

*

Emily watched on the news, as the death was proclaimed.
“…Tucker died today, after a fierce battle with…”

She shut the television off, tears already coating her face.
‘It wasn’t supposed to be this way…’. The thought echoed throughout her head, although she knew not from where it came. As she sat, alone in her grief, she heard the familiar noise of the elevator ding, and the all-too familiar footfalls indicating the arrival of the only surviving member of her immediate family. Her reason for living.
“Sammy!”

Her son smiled at her, holding one side of his body away from her, obscuring it from view. “Hey, mum. What’s up?”

Chapter Four

C

JASON

We had Sam track Temple as he walked the streets of Paragon. Sammy and I sat around the briefing table, and sat in silence for a while. Eventually, however, I sighed, and pressed a button on the desk.
“This is Guardian. All team-members not currently off-duty, or involved in a skirmish, please report to the base.”
Sammy gaped at me. “Shouldn’t we keep this private?”
“Why?”
“Because….geez, Dad, I don’t know. Some version of you from a parallel dimension claims that your wife is dead, killed by an impostor?”
“Exactly why I called for help. We need an objective point of view on this one. We need a plan which is out of the box, and if this Temple guy is me, we can be sure he thinks like me.”
“Ohh.” Sammy nodded. “I get it.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
I sighed, and was about to reply, when I heard the base teleporter kick in. I looked up just in time to see Sarriss walk in.
“Honey, I’m home!” She smirked, but froze in her tracks when she saw Sammy.
“You!”
“Uhm….hi?”
I glanced between the two of them, before staring at Sarriss. “You two have met?”
“Jay, this was the kid I danced with at your wedding.”
“Ahh.” I nodded. “Well, perhaps you two should be formally introduced. Sammy, this is Sarriss Groundwalker, second in command of the team.” I smirked slightly. “Sarriss, this is Samuel Tucker.” I paused for a second.
“My son.”

*

After Dad explained the situation, which took even longer than I thought it would, what with Aunt Sarriss stopping every few seconds to ask a question, Sarriss looked at me uncomfortably.
“What?”
“I can’t believe I thought you were cute.”
“Hey, Aunt Sarr, don’t be like that. I mean…”
“Wait.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “What did you just call me?”
“Aunt Sarr?” I shrugged. “It’s what I’ve always called you. Hell, you always went around telling everyone you know that my first word was Sarr.”
“It was?”
I nodded. “Apparently. I don’t remember it, myself.”
She chuckled, and nodded, before my Dad cleared his throat. “Can we get back down to business, please?”
“Sure thing, Jay. So…there’s this other ‘you’ walking around Paragon?”
He nodded. “And we don’t know what he’s up to.”
I sighed. “Alternate Earths make my head spin.”
Sarriss grinned at me. “Just be thankful you weren’t here for the Rikti invasion. When word first hit that they were from an alternate version of Earth, things got a little crazy.” She shrugged. “Of course, I was still in the Paragon Police at the time, but we saw bad bits, too. Those red portals…” She shivered.
“Red?” I frowned. “They were green. At least…in my dimension, they were.”
My Dad blinked. “Weird.” He turned to Sam. “You think that means anything?”
“Nah, don’t sweat it, J.”
“So. We need to find out Temple’s plan. The question is, how do we do it?”
Dad looked around the table, and looked disheartened with both myself and Aunt Sarriss shrugged.
“Oh, come on. We need to find out where he’s from, what he’s up to, and, above all else, why he’s here.”
“Dad…”
“No, dammit!” My Dad yelled. “He has my wife. My wife, Sammy.”
“I know that.”
“Good! Because I’m going to get her back.” He sighed. “After all the [censored] I’ve been through since I got to this damn city, I was looking forward to relaxing, taking things easy. I was going to retire, and live the rest of my life in an advisory role. It isn’t like I need the money, and I certainly don’t need the excitement. But now? I have to keep fighting.”
There was an impressive growl from behind Dad, from the monitor. “Just when I thought I was out…they pull me back in.”
“Shut up, Sam.” The three of us chorused.
“Now.” My Dad continued. “Sarriss, if I were Temple.”
“Which you are.” She smiled slightly.
“Sorta. What would you expect me to do if I’d just told someone I’ve kidnapped their wife?”
She frowned, and thought about it. “You’d probably expect someone to follow you, find out where they go.”
“Okay. So we don’t do that. What would I least expect to happen?”
She shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Sarriss nodded. “Of course. You’re such a do-gooder, you’d have to do something. So Temple would wait for it to happen.”
“Probably getting more and more nervous in the process.” Sammy chipped in.
“Okay…so what do we really do?”

I looked around, and the others shrugged at me.
“Wait for him to come to us?” Sarriss suggested.
I sighed. “I hate waiting.”

Chapter Three

A

SAMMY

Sammy had worked hard to get to where he was today. A few years ago, when he was 14, he was given a choice; he could go into basketball, baseball, soccer, American Football, gymnastics, or spend time in the weight room.

Sammy couldn’t jump. Baseball interested him, but it wasn’t included in his plans. Soccer? He had asked his father, years ago, to explain the off-side rule, and was left more confused after the explanation than before it. American Football, to him, seemed more like rugby with protective padding. Gymnastics? What was he, a girl? He opted, instead, for the weight room, and spent every free period, as well as most lunches, in there, sweating, working, getting his body as strong as he could make it. By the time he was 16, he had a musculature that most guys in the school would be envious of, regardless of age. He could benchpress nearly three times his own body weight, which had earned him, from his peers, the nickname “Ant”. No doubt about it, he was strong. This led him onto the schools’ wrestling team, where he learned to control that strength, harness his power, and become more agile.

When he was 18, and a graduate with top marks, especially in the sciences, where he had shown remarkable prowess, he was ready. ‘The Ant’ found the nearest Hellion gang members, and destroyed them all, save their leader, whom he tortured for information. The leader led him to the nearest cell, where Sammy killed the poor soul who had led him there, and demanded an audience with the leader of the Hellions.

After killing, maiming, or severely injuring most of the gang members in attendance, Sammy was quickly named the Boss for the Steel Canyon area.

Sammy pushed the Hellions out farther than they had ever been, quickly eliminating all presence of the rival gangs. The Tsoo were the last, and by far the hardest, matching death for death, kill for kill, until Sammy went in alone, using only the stolen Power Belt he had identified as his mothers’, and slaughtered the Tsoo leadership.

Sammy had, in a matter of weeks, wiped out nearly all street crime in Steel Canyon, doing what a lot of heroes had been trying to do for decades. With his father, the businessman, practically running the legitimate businesses throughout Steel Canyon, and himself running the underworld, all of Steel Canyon was under Tucker control. But, that wasn’t enough for the 18 year old. He had proven himself to be a strategic genius the world hadn’t seen since the days of Napoleon, and, were he to say the words, the Hellions could become vigilantes, providing a service to the city…for a modest fee, of course.

He could have become the Hero he had dreamt of in his childhood, could have gone to his father, and say “Look what I’ve done, Dad.”

He didn’t, of course. His plans were just beginning.

*

I’ve known for a while now that The Fire Guardian is my father. It’s strange, really; it was an open secret. Nobody talked about it, simply because everybody knew, and assumed that everyone else knew. The Guardian wasn’t mentioned at all in my home, but that wasn’t too strange. The only time Superheroes were mentioned was when Aunt Sarriss would be interviewed on the television, having foiled another robbery.

I could see why my ‘Uncle Sammy’, whom I was named after, was so infatuated with her. Although I had never met my mysterious ‘Uncle’, I must have gotten my taste in women from him. Lithe, slender, toned…she was a vision. Auburn hair down to halfway down her slender back, and a green leather belt hanging from her tiny waist, on top of the longest, most perfect legs I’ve ever seen.

I’d been crazy about Aunt Sarriss for years. I know, as I always have, that we’re not related. But, I’ve called her Aunt Sarriss for as long as I can remember – in fact, she’s rather proud of the story she tells, when my first word was, apparently, “Sarr”, which is my fathers’ affectionate nickname for her. In another time and place…who knows what might have happened between us? I’ve seen her checking me out…hell, most women do. She isn’t to blame. In a city of Heroes, I’m as strong, if not stronger, than a lot of the guys out there…not as strong as Sarriss herself, but that’s fine. I like a woman who can get rough. So, it seems a shame to me that I have to use Aunt Sarriss, in order to progress through my plan.

My Aunt Sarriss is a beautiful woman.
She made an even better corpse.

*

Jason was sat at his desk in his study, when the alarm came through.

A few notes about Jason Tucker, which you may not realise. Jason grew up, alongside the dear departed Sammy Edwards, admiring Superheroes. However, whilst Sammy appreciated the female Heroes, Jason admired them all. Male, female, androgynous beings, and fictional characters. One of Jason’s favourite memories was sitting on the sofa, in the house he and Sammy rented, on a Saturday, watching DVDs of the old Batman TV show. So enamoured was he, in fact, that when the technical staff who assisted his Supergroup told him they were setting up an audio only link for all the members, he insisted that his audio link should be in the form of a red phone, which would light up when he was being contacted. Jason kept this phone underneath a glass cake-tin, and gave strict instructions to his fellow members that he should only be contacted, when off duty at least, in case of dire emergencies.

His team-mates were more than capable of taking care of each other, and themselves, so the phone had never once rung, never flashed…in short, it had never been used.

So, when the phone started its’ shrill warning tone, Jason had to drudge through his memories of what the noise meant. As soon as his eye caught the flashing red phone, however, he knew it was serious. Lifting the cake tin, he picked up the handset, and barked down the line.
“Guardian.”
“Jay?”
He didn’t recognise the voice.
“Yes?”
“It’s…Cara….”
“Sarriss? What’s wrong?”
“I need….”
A scream. High pitched, female, and abruptly cut off.
“Sarriss? Sarr? Cara?”

Silence.

Then, another voice filtered through the line.

“Mr Tucker?”
“Who is this?”
“I’m the man who just killed your associate, Mr Tucker.”
“Impossible!” Jason spat. “All Heroes have an emergency teleporter, which takes them directly to our Base.”
“Ah, Mr Tucker, but, didn’t you know? The signal can be cut off.”

Jason turned cold. “What do you want?”
“I want you. One on one.”
“Where?”
“I’m about two miles north of you, Mr Tucker. Come and find me.”

The line went dead, and only then did Jason realise he was trembling.

He was 44 years old. He hadn’t gone out on duty for months, citing that it was a “young man’s game”. These days, he acted more as an advisor to the younger members of his team. However, if this…animal was to be believed, his best friend had just been killed. And there was only one person who could do anything about it.

Jason grabbed his Power Belt, and, pressing the button to slide down his large, bulletproof window, and jumped out. He didn’t know what awaited him, and he didn’t care.

He didn’t know that two Tuckers would face each other, and only one would survive to walk away.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages. FlashFire Productions, in association with The Forumites, is pleased to announce that ASK A BEN has returned!

Over the next 24 weeks....that's right 24 weeks....that's SIX MONTHS, I'll be plumbing the depths of internet knowledge and general chicanery to bring you the answers to the questions that burned deep within you.

So sit down, settle back, take a shot (shout out to Xan) and enjoy Ask A Ben, Season Two.

I'm working on it, I'm working on it! A combination of Writer's Block, as well as tackling a huuuuuuge story like this, ain't easy!

That'll be in about...March 2007, if I give myself a break between seasons.

....And that's your lot.


I don't mean MaX, I mean everyone. I am officially closing the 'question' part of Ask A Ben. As it stands, the second season will run for 24 episodes (four of which I consider 'special' episodes), with a whopping 71 questions being asked. After reviewing, and making a list, of all of them, I've decided that, with the exception of the 'dildo' question, they'll all be answered. Some of them however, won't be answered in the way you think, an, in my opinion, they're borderline racism. And, since my opinion is the only one that actually matters in these things, you be out of luck.

One guy actually asked 14 questions for one episode. Compare and contrast to the Omnibus Episode last season, which had 23 questions. And the questions.....ugh. Remember people: Quantity is NOT quality. Or Quilty. Which means that Quilty...is not Quality.

The questions, I'd like to point out, will NOT be running in the order they've been asked in. Some of the questions are time-specific, in that they reference either events or statements that have taken place very recently. Because of this, I've had to jumble the questions around. Also, I don't think MaX' question is a great one to end season 2 on.

So, watch this space, as Ask A Ben will be returning VERY shortly...

I'm requesting one as soon as we can place orders again. Started a PayPal site for it, and everything.

[ QUOTE ]
btw ur gonna have to do a LONG episode 1 for all these questions

[/ QUOTE ]

Why? Not all of these questions are going to be answered in the first episode, or even the first five.

I know, because I've filmed the first five. I had to explain the way this works to Chiefette a few days ago, so I'll do it again now.

Someone sends me an e-mail, or makes a forum post. Even if they include multiple questions in that mail or post, that doesn't concern me. I treat each one like a different episode. If you ask me one question in a forum post, then that one question gets answered. if you ask me seven questions in one post, then seven get answered. I only answer multiple questions from multiple people in an 'omnibus', like the one from the last season.

Besides, the guy who asked the question for episode one's been waiting over two months for his answer. I don't want to detract from it.

I'm in (assuming I'm awake), and hopefully this one won't give us any grief!

Guys, this is....

I can't even find the words for it, I'm so [censored]. The TF has mysteriously vanished. I'm /bugging it right now. We'll see what they say. Does anyone know of any other time this has happened? The TF was working earlier - Max had to pull out due to other stuff, and he was giving me his insps. We both quit via the menu screen, and not the TF window, and now it's gone!

If it turns out I pressed the wrong button, then I apologise for it, but let's get this all straightened out and see what happens.

I'm good for whenever, really. I know Max ws keen on doing it tonight, and personally, I'd like to get it finished so I can continue levelling FG (I'm one level away from Full Auto), but if people can't make it, then they can't make it.

[ QUOTE ]
Am I the only one who find it kind of funny that this video is hosted in the category: "Sci-Fi - Fantasy - Bizarre"?

[/ QUOTE ]

It was either that, or Sports - Games - Paintball.

Right, we kicked off the TF with some great missions, about five or six teamwipes, and we're...what? Two thirds of the way though. Had to call it a night, though, people had started falling asleep at their keyboards.

Next TF, I promise, WILL start earlier (by eight hours or so), and will be on a weekend, or somesuch.

We need to organise a new time to run through the rest of Posi, so if anyone wants to throw in some suggestions, we'll see what everyone can manage.

As fun as this all is, guys, I have to sort through these pages for viable questions, and I don't really want to miss someone's question because it's buried in with forum spamming.

Could you stop, please?

Just a note, Stasis might not be coming, as she isn't very well, which means Weasel might not either.

[ QUOTE ]
FG, have you ever done a TF? You stay in the team until you quit it, even if you log off or D/C.

[/ QUOTE ]

Right, but my D/Cs can (and do) last up to half an hour.

I had a toon in the mission with him when he actually dinged 50. He kept counting down the K's until about 100k, and when he hit 50, he was actually a little choked up about it.

Just a quick addendum. My Internet connection, as it stands, is cutting out every few minutes....right now, it's the most stable it's been, and it cut out right after I wrote the word "cutting". Just in case it cuts out tonight, I'm nominating Duckdee as the Star Holder.

Whilst I'd love to be able to do the whole thing (as I haven't actually done a TF yet) I might vanish. If I do, then, obviously, I won't be able to rejoin, but I'll expect plenty of commentary on the Forumites channel for when I get back.

Well, people complaining they weren't there...it's sad and all, really, but there -is- a Forumite Event in about eight hours over on Union, so get your [censored] to Posi, and we'll see what happens!

[ QUOTE ]
I think Mr Fire Guardian has a video of the event so watch for that soon

[/ QUOTE ]

Oh, you mean this video, here? Nope, sorry, haven't made one.

To commemorate the beginning of the Forumite SG on Union, we're running the Positron TF at 8pm BST.

If you're going to take part (and anyone's welcome to join in, regardless of whether or not you're in the SG...just don't be surprised if you get a Super Group invite) please...please make sure you can stick around for the entirety of the TF. Whilst some exceptions will be made for technical issues (I know Duckdee's having router problems, and my modem thinks it's funny to cut out on me at random intervals) turning around during the second mission or so and saying "sorry guys going out haev fun lol" will be as appreciated as a kick in the happysacs.

Which you'll get.

We'll be meeting at Posi from around 7:45ish, looking for commencement at 8:00 - 8:05. If you're there at 8:10...sorry, but there'll be another TF next month.

Remember that whilst the minimum level for the TF is 10, anyone higher will be auto-exemped, so if you want to bring along your own 'signature' hero, to be more recognisable, feel free. Personally, I don't think there'd be anything cooler than looking around and seeing a team made of Forum All-Stars.

Everybody's welcome, so...let's do it.

[ QUOTE ]
The Silver Weasel finally hit the big 5-0!

My Weasel hit 50!!!!!!

[/ QUOTE ]

Happy Cake Day!

...Oh, wait...


Congrats, man!