Fire_Guardian_EU

Well, if you were ever on MSN anymore, I could have just sent them to you.

Me and my Hero

(Note: 'Ben' is denoted by blue text, 'FG' by red - singing at the same time is in black)

Like my Knockback
Knocks the guys down
And like the Giant Squid
Stays in the sea
No I'll never get rid of my hero
No you'll never get rid of me

Let all the others make their alts
Whatever happens
We've no doubts

Me
We're closer than Wincott
And my Hero
To Hollows gate
We play this together
It must have been fate
Strolling through Atlas Park
We're closer than SO's
That are really great
Although we're in training
We still bring the pain in
Me

Closer than night is
And my Hero
When it follows day
Closer than Weasel to admitting he's [censored]

When we play we'll never ever die
You know you're a handsome guy

That's what the ladies tell me
And when it's fighting time
That's when we rise
We show who's best
That'd be me
What do you mean? I play you.
Clockwork Die
What a surprise
And Vahzilok
Run for cover

Me
I know it's repeating
And my Hero
But I just don't care
Feel sorry for Ben
Cause he's losing his hair

We're alone but far from blue

Before we hit 50
We'll make the place roar
We'll hit all the late spots
When others all snore
We'll start off at Atlas
And hang with Newbies
And then we'll hit Pocket D
Yeah my Hero and me

[ QUOTE ]
Thanks. I'm probably going to go over it again tomorrow, and clear up that horrendously flat note in the left side, where the right side is talking about how Weasel is...uhm...prefers the company of men.

[/ QUOTE ]

Tah-dah: Me And My Hero Version 2.0

[ QUOTE ]
Lol - That was pretty cool FG... When's the next one due?

[/ QUOTE ]

Dunno. When I can be bothered to do one, I suppose.

Thanks. I'm probably going to go over it again tomorrow, and clear up that horrendously flat note in the left side, where the right side is talking about how Weasel is...uhm...prefers the company of men.

Cheers.

Happy Easter everyone.

I was flicking through my song archvies recently, looking for a song for a..well...a project I'm involved in with someone else from the forums, and something tickled my fancy. After my aborted (yet stylish) Fire Blaster Remix, where I rapped alongside my own singing, I wondered if it was possible to do a whole duet with myself. Although it's a little rusty in some places, here's the result.

Ben Fox & The Fire Guardian sing: Me And My Hero

[ QUOTE ]
Re-post, but I thought it appropriate considering the snow atm

[/ QUOTE ]

Snow, you say?

Ahem.

Anyway. No cookie for Z.
Issue Seven

Chapter Nine

April 12th, 2006

“I know who did this.”
“Who?”
“…I did.”

--

Jason and Sammy hurried outside the Tucker Building, looking for any signs of….anything.
“So, you’re saying you must have come back from the future?”
“Sure.” Jason shrugged. “It’s the only possible explanation. I came back in time, and…”
“And what, Dad?” Sammy spun on his heels as they walked, to face him. “Kidnap your wife for reasons unknown?”
Jason blinked. “I had to have a reason.”
“Such as?”

“Goodbye, Jay.”
The room erupted in a white fire around Jason, burning him, melting his face with its’ intensity. Screaming throughout it, Jason became aware of a sizzling sound mixed in with the roar, and the smell of cooked flesh, as he dimly felt his eyeballs pop under the extreme heat of Corruptor’s….Emily’s….flamethrower.

Jason shook his head. “I don’t know. But, whatever it is, it must be important.”
Sammy snorted. “Sure. Important to him, but what about you?”
“He is me, Sammy. Maybe he’s misguided, maybe I turn evil at some point…I don’t know. My point is, we won’t know until we find this future me.”
Jason stalked off into the darkness, alone.

Sammy sighed, and shook his head. “It is, it is, a glorious thing…” He muttered to himself. “…I was sired by an idiot.”

He raced to catch up with Jason. “Have you considered another possibility?”
“Such as?”
“Dad…I watched you die. And now, you’re telling me that this future you didn’t die, but travelled through time anyway, for the sole purpose of kidnapping your...his wife, and taunting you about it?” He shook his head. “It isn’t possible.”
“Well, what else could it be?”
“I don’t know, either.” They reached the Base Portal. “Let’s go ask Sam. Maybe he has an idea.”

They both stepped into the Portal, and emerged, seconds later, in what Sammy had dubbed ‘Guardian Base’. Walking towards the giant monitor, Sam nodded at the pair, but otherwise, said nothing.
“Sam, something’s happened.” Jason stated.
“Yes, I know. Emily’s been taken.”
“How do you know that?”
Sam shrugged on the monitor. “I’m pretty much omnipresent, you know. I’m just that good.”
“Riiiight. And do you know who took her?”
“Of course I do, Jay. You did. Kinda.”
“And…you didn’t think to tell me this?”
“Tell you? How?”
“Oh, come off it, Sam!” Jason yelled. “You’ve communicated to me before. In Pocket D, right before Susan flattened me?”
“I…oh, yes. Well, things were different.”
“How so?”
“Because they were! Christ, I don’t answer to you, you know. I’m my own person…program.”

‘Great.’ Jason mused to himself. ‘A Prima Donna PC program. I knew I should have uploaded Theme Hospital when I had the chance.’

“Besides.” Sam continued. “How do I know you two are really you two?”
“What?” Sammy blinked.
“Well, if there’s another Jason running around, why can’t there be another Sammy? Or another Emily?” Sam smirked at the Tuckers. “Yeah, didn’t think of that, did you? Maybe the Emily who was kidnapped had secretly replaced the one you think of as your wife, and mother. Maybe this other Tucker came to take her back.”
“Oh, please. She doesn’t look a day older now than she did last week.”
“Maybe…” Jason reached for an answer. “Maybe she just ages really well?”
“Oh, come off it, Dad.”
“Haven’t you met your grandmother? She doesn’t look a day over 40.”
Sammy sighed. “Dad…”
“Yeah, I know.”
Sam cleared his throat. “Okay, you two are definitely you.”
“Thanks.”
“There’s just one problem, then.”
Jason stared up at the screen. “What’s that?”
Sam pointed behind the two Tuckers. “Who the hell is that?”

Jason and Sammy turned, as one, to face the intruder.

Standing before them was a man encased in black armour, highlighted by a dark red flame pattern. On his chest, where Jason usually wore the emblem of The Truth Of The Flame, was nothing. The Power Belt Jason wore around his waist was, instead of a regular golden belt, a series of golden metallic skulls, with the central skull being red – and, on his shoulders, instead of the Tech-Pads Jason wore, were grey metal skulls with red eyesockets glowing.

The mans’ face, however, was identical to Jason’s own. Twisted in a perpetual smirk, the man nodded to Jason.
“Jay. Welcome home.”

“Who…who are you?”
“Why, I’m you, of course. Haven’t you figured out what all this is about by now?”
Jason shook his head.
“Well, then. Let me enlighten you.” He paused, and his smirk grew wider. “Firstly, my name. You can call me…Temple.”

Jason stood opposite his doppelganger, staring. His ‘twin’….Temple, stood easily, relaxed, watching Jason with amusement in his eyes.

Jason shivered, as his other self…this Dark Mirror…took a deep breath, and, using Jason’s voice, began to tell his story.

--

To Be Concluded in Book Three: Dark Mirror


Authorial Interjection:
There was little point in me stretching out the story even longer than I had to for Reunion. There’ve been a few important points raised, and it should be interesting to see if anyone’s going to guess them correctly.

Whilst I gather my senses and plough into Dark Mirror, I’m going to offer Chapter Ten up for a Q&A session. If you have any questions about any of the characters, the plot (obviously, I can’t give too much away) the future of the stories…anything Fire Guardian related, drop me a PM, and I’ll answer it as best I can, before I start putting up Dark Mirror.

[ QUOTE ]
When you said milkfloat, for some reason I started to think of Earnie, fastest milkman in the west... *Is scared now*

[/ QUOTE ]

Well, the original plan, which was handed to me, on a full moon by a crazy woman with danger in her eyes, was to drown them in full-fat milk. This way, however, makes me want to giggle like a mad man. I bet they're all Blasters/Scrappers asking the questions.

Because they're -squishies-. Geddit? Squishies? Because they'll all go SQUISH!


Heheheeheeheheeheheheeheheheheehheheheheheh.....yy esssssssssss.....

And here's one for my favouritist ever people who flood the forums with...a particular question. You know the one I mean.

Anyone who correctly guesses the original song (before I record it and post it up) wins...I dunno. A cookie, and the passenger seat in the Milk Float 'O' Doom.

Issue Seven

Never knew how much I hated
People when they ask for help
I'm gonna run 'em down with a milk float
And squish them till I hear them yelp.

It's Issue Seven
I'm disgusted
Why don't people ever read.
Issue Seven!
Please release it
Peace and quiet's what I need.

You know there's gonna be a Freespec
You know stuff will end up Nerfed
So why the hell'd you keep on asking.
Ask once more and you'll get hurt.

It's Issue Seven
I'm disgusted
Why don't people ever read.
Issue Seven!
Please release it
Peace and quiet's what I need.

Everybody's on the forum
Asking when they all know.
I'm gonna take Statesman's Nerf bat
And shove it where the sun don't go.

Woah - load it up!

Weasel Boy loved Stasis
And Stasis, she loved him back
But when she asked 'bout Issue Seven
She turned around and he attacked

For Issue Seven.
I'm disgusted
Why don't people ever read.
Issue Seven!
Please release it
Peace and quiet's what I need.

Whoa

The questions all give me headaches
It will be here when it's here.
So sit down, shut up and stop whining.
Or I'll show you a cause for fear.

For Issue Seven.
I'm disgusted
Why don't people ever read.
Issue Seven!
Please release it
Peace and quiet's what I need.

Never knew how much I hated
People when they ask for help
I'm gonna run 'em down with a milk float
And squish them till I hear them yelp.

Or Issue Seven.
I'm disgusted
Why don't people ever read.
Issue Seven!
Please release it
Peace and quiet's what I need.
Peace and quiet's what I need.
Peace and quiet's what I need.
Peace and quiet's what I need.

Chapter Eight

2004

The Difference – B

“I don’t believe it!” Sammy yelped, as I told him the news. He was the only person I had told about winning, and even that was proving to be a mistake. “I mean…wow! Christ, Jay. Sixty billion pounds. What’re you going to do with all that cash?”
I smiled slightly. “I’m going to do…anything I want, Sammy.”

The past two years had taught me some simple facts about life.

Fact One: You can’t trust anybody.
Fact Two: Money is power.
Fact Three: Everything else is [censored].

My life changed one evening, when Emily decided she’d rather suck face with some anonymous soldier boy than be happy with me. I’d even bought her a goddamned ring, and was going to propose.
What the [censored] had I been thinking?

You don’t marry a girl like Emily. You don’t even have a relationship with a girl like her. With Emily’s type, the only thing you did was say hello, go to bed with them, and then pay them their fee when you’re satisfied, before going home.

Sammy disagreed with me on that – at least, privately. He’d been going downhill ever since we went to that damned charity night, always quiet, always respectful of my feelings. Feelings my [censored], I’d wasted too long on Emily to mope about it. I wanted to party, to enjoy my life. [censored] the war, [censored] the Rikti, and above all else, [censored] my memories with Emily Campbell.

My plans for my newfound wealth itself were relatively simple. Firstly, I was going to put half of it in the bank, in a normal account. Even at a reduced rate, I’d be pulling down tens of millions of pounds in interest alone. Some lawyer had approached me with the idea to set up something he entitled ‘The Tucker Foundation’ – helping war orphans, that sort of thing. I reasoned with myself, though….why should I care about war orphans? If their parents abandoned them to fight, then they had to be worthless anyway.

However, for tax reasons, I soon discovered, it made good business sense. The lawyer….some [censored] with an American accent, called Anson, was given free range to set up his little Foundation. I, however, wanted nothing to do with it. Sure, use my name; after all, it was my money. But I didn’t care about the greedy little [censored].

With The Tucker Foundation slowly but surely underway, and the children, widows, and widowers being taken care of, I wanted to just sit in the shadows, as it were, and enjoy the life of the Nouveaux Riche, without the irritability of my face being shown on TV and newspapers, as “That Multi-Billionaire”. After all the parties, the drugs, the…everything…I was finally starting to have fun.

“You know what I need, Sammy?”
“What?”
“I need a holiday.”
“Good for you. Get some sun, it’ll do you good.”
“Want to come with?”

Sammy stared. I suppose it was the nicest thing I’d done for anyone else in two years, and went against my grain. However, Sammy had supported me when I was down. No reason he shouldn’t be rewarded for his loyalty.
“Uhm….sure, Jay, sure. Where’re we going to go?”

Good question. The whole world was open to me. There was, it turns out, only one place I wanted to go, and Sammy…the Superhero pervert…wanted to go as much as me, if not more.

The next day, I booked two first class tickets to Paragon City.

--

Sammy seemed stunned with the sights, the sounds. He kept gaping up at some statue of a Superheroine, awe in his eyes.
“Massive stone boobs.” He whispered to himself. “Wow.”

He turned to me, a big grin on his face. “Dude…”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”
I snorted. “Sammy, you love Superheroes. Hell, you’re half in love with War Witch. I’ve seen you kiss that poster on your wall. But I’m not buying you a giant statue.” I shrugged, and smiled slightly. “Besides…where would we keep it?”

Sammy stared at me. “Did you just…make a joke?”
I shrugged again. “I’m allowed to, aren’t I? Anyway, if you want massive stone boobs, I’m sure there’s a 25 stone Tanker around here who’s looking for a good time.”
“Have you ever met an attractive female Tanker?”
I blinked. “Who said anything about female?”
“Har har.” Sammy snorted. “Let’s go exploring.”
“Where to?”
Sammy pulled out the tourist guide he’d ‘appropriated’ from the monorail station giftshop. “There’s supposed to be a huge group of Superheroes who meet every night at 9 pm under the Galaxy Girl statue.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want anything to do with any Superheroes. Bunch of over-hyped scouts.”

“You didn’t used to feel that way.”
I shrugged. “Things change. People change.”
“Masks,” Sammy intoned ominously, “Come down.”
“What?”
“I dunno. Well, what do you want to do?”
I pondered over this. Part of me desperately wanted to go to the Paragon Museum – the same part of me I had completely ignored.
“Let’s go find a party.”
Sammy grinned, and flicked open his tourist guide to the relevant page. “Ah. Pocket D. We can get there….”

--

June

I lay in my hospital bed, cursing the world. Some Supervillain called ‘Corruptor’ had bypassed the power negation field in Pocket D somehow, and attacked me, saying something about The Truth of The Flame.

No idea what he meant by that. All I knew was, I had lost my legs and my right arm. I was lucky that was the extent of the damage. I had thrown my right arm up to protect my face…my eyes…from a flamethrower. My eyes were fine, but my arm was damaged beyond repair, and had to be surgically removed, as had my legs. The doctor in charge of my case, a simpering chatterbox called Wilks, outlined his plan of reconstruction, but had told me that someone ‘important’ wanted to see me.

So, I waited, in silence, staring up at the ceiling. When I heard two sets of footsteps walk into my room, I didn’t bother looking at either person.
“Mr Tucker, my name is Samantha Hearten. I am the mayor of Paragon City.”
“Hi.”
“Hello.” She paused. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Well, I don’t have any legs, so I can’t kick you in the head for asking such a stupid question. Sadly, I don’t have a right hand anymore, so my love life is shot to all hell and I have nothing better to do than talk to you. I’m coping.” I sighed. “What do you want?”
“Well…” Mayor Hearten seemed unsure about how to respond. Good. “I’m here to apologise for what happened to you in our fair city. Also…I wanted to know if you’d consider attacking back at the terrible man who did this to you.”
“Revenge?” I smirked. “I’m in. I’m going to kill that son of a [censored].”
“Good.” Hearten sounded like she was smiling. “I’ll leave you in my Aide’s capable hands. I believe you two have met already?”

I looked over at Hearten and her aide for the first time, and I was knocked speechless.
“Well…” Emily grinned. “If it isn’t the good one I let get away.”

*

Pete had died in the attack. ‘Good.’ I thought, self satisfactorily, before wondering if even that was beneath me. Still, the guy had ruined my life. Surely I was entitled to a little happiness at his death?

Emily had found herself stuck in Paragon, with no money, no job, nowhere to live, other than in refuge shelters. She had worked for multiple places, after the war, before finding herself at the Mayoral Campaign, where she was now the Mayor’s chief aide. Seeing me like this, broken, defeated, she told me it was upsetting for her. She did, honestly, seem a bit saddened by it.
‘You’ve still got it, even as a cripple, Tucker. Nice one.’

“So…” Emily was saying, drawing me out of my musings. “You want to go after Corruptor?”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “You’ll be in for a tough time. Our records show that he’s pretty strong, fast, a marksman, and an expert in martial arts.”
“I don’t care, I’ll beat the living [censored] out of him.”
Emily fixed me with a stare. “Don’t underestimate The Corruptor, Jason. You got off lightly last time. Next time you meet him, you might die.”
I snorted. “It’ll take more than some armour wearing Chuck Norris wannabe to take me out.”

Emily looked at me levelly, before nodded slightly. “Okay. So.” She pulled out a manila folder from her valise, and opened it. “You need new legs?”
“Obviously.”
She gave me a withering look. Yeah. I’d missed that.
“No, I’m here to find out if you want to fly.”
“Fly?”
She grinned. “If you’re up for it. You can fly, run at superspeed, or jump pretty high. I’m told the jumping is quite a sight to see, although, knowing you, you’ll want to go for the classic approach.”
I frowned. “Why not all three?”
Emily shrugged. “Power conservation. Although you’ll have semi-organic batteries built into your legs…they’ll recharge from the kinetic energy of the blood flowing through your body, by the way, you can only do one of them. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself exhausted.”
“So, only one?”
“Only one.” She nodded.
“Well…I’ll go for the jumping.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Not flight?”
“No. Why would I want to do something like that? It’d make me a more predictable target. If I can jump great distances and great heights, I can touch down and do a complete change of direction in a split second. Can’t do that with flying.”

Emily stared at me, somewhat sadly. “You’ve changed.”
“It happens.”
She cleared her throat, and studied the folder carefully. “You’ll need to register yourself with the Superhero Registry. What name would you like to use?”
“Batman.”
“It’s been taken.”
I shrugged. “Batman or nothing.”
She looked up at me, pushing her glasses up her nose. “You can’t call yourself Batman, for [censored] sake.”
“Fine.” I scowled, and thought back. I needed something…mysterious. Something that was, however, connected with me, something I could identify with.

I was born and raised a Jew, from an inter-faith marriage. As such, from concessions made, I have an odd double-barrelled last name. Jason Temple-Tucker. I rarely, if ever, use the Temple- prefix, but…

“Agent Temple.”
She thought about it. “How about, just plain Temple?”
I nodded. “It’ll do.”
“You don’t want anything more…Heroic?
She nodded sadly. “I’ll make the arrangement for jump-powered legs to be brought to the hospital. It’s…it’s good to see you again, Jason.”
I ignored her, as she left.

I had changed. Whereas, a few years ago, I was happy, care-free, now I was…well, a brooding, darker individual. Part of me was a little saddened by that knowledge, as if I had lost something important, and never gotten it back. The other part, however…

‘Who cares?’ I thought to myself. ‘I am who I am, and nothing’s going to change that.’

After all…there could only be one Jason Tucker, right?

[ QUOTE ]
[The lyrics in this song are in no way intended to express my own opinions.. heck, it's a parody song!]

Dire Strait's Money for Nothing.

[/ QUOTE ]

Nah, this is my favourite so far. Well....my favourite that wasn't written by me. *nodnod*

Of course, if you think Fire Blaster is incomprehensible now, you should be glad I didn't follow through with my original plan:

Bring on the remix.

[ QUOTE ]
You should do "The roof is on fire" next time!

[/ QUOTE ]

Hmm.

The Roof, The Roof, The Roof Is On Fire
But we don't need no badges, so let Steel Canyon burn!

[ QUOTE ]
I'm still laughing..

Very well done though, got the lyrics?

[/ QUOTE ]

I'm the trouble starter, the Mob Aggrovator
I'm the flame addicted, the Faceplant afflicted
I'm a Fire Blaster, twisted Fire Blaster
you're the Fire Blaster, twisted Fire Blaster
I'm the Fire Blaster, twisted Fire Blaster


I'm the guy with the Snipe, most hated Archetype
Yeah.
I'm the guy who needs help, when you hear me yell
I'm a Fire Blaster, twisted Fire Blaster
You're the Fire Blaster, twisted Fire Blaster


I'm the self-inflamed, Fireball detonator.
Yeah
I'm the one infected, Fire Sword twirler.
I'm a Fire Blaster, twisted Fire Blaster,
you're the Fire Blaster, twisted Fire Blaster.
I'm a Fire Blaster

Remember a while ago, when I said it was time to start paying attention?

All abooooaaaard!


Chapter Seven

April 12th, 2006

Sammy and I were taking a break from training, when the call came in. Sam alerted me, via his usual, “Hey, Dickweed. Susan’s on the line.”
I put my bottle of water down on the table, and kicked my feet up next to it. “Okay, put her through.”

Sam’s face vanished, and Susans’ appeared on the screen, looking slightly haggard.
“Susie!” I greeted her happily, as I noticed Sammy peering for a better look. “You look awful.”
“Thanks, Jay.” She snorted. “I always know who to call for a pick-up.”
“What’s going on?”
“Something you might be interested in. Can I interface my SAMI with yours?”
“Hell no, you can’t, woman.” Sam’s voice filtered through the speakers. “I’m not having that sick weirdo in me. Not after last time.”
“Last time?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m just not having that pervert in my files. Whatever it is you want to say, just say it.”
“Fine.” Susan sighed, then rifled through some pieces of paper. “About two days ago, the body of an elderly gentleman was discovered in an alleyway.”
“Sue, as sad as that is…this is Paragon. Do you know how many dead bodies I’ve seen since I got here?”
“No, but the interesting bit is, two days after the dead boy was found…the dead guy went missing.”
“You mean he was reported missing.”
“No, I mean he went missing.”

I raised an eyebrow. It was an affectation I had picked up in college, and used it as a general ‘catch all’ expression.
“Someone stole the corpse?”

Susan sighed. “No, I mean that the corpse was also alive and well.”
“Sue, this isn’t the time for sarcasm.”
“I agree, which is why I’m not being sarcastic.” She took a breath. “Okay, the corpse was identified and placed in the morgue. Two days later, a man with the same name and exact same DNA, who was also approximately 20 years younger than the corpse, left his office for a meeting and didn’t return.”
“And I’m interested in this because…?”
“The name of the man was posted on the Guardian Net. Doctor Cody Pendant.”

I was standing before I even knew it. “Pendant’s dead?”
“Well, once of him is. The other is missing, but…wait, did you know there were two of him?”
“Long story.”
“With you, Jason? It always is. I get the exclusive?”
“As ever.” I nodded, and ended the connection with the press of a button. I turned to face Sammy. “So…Pendant’s dead.”
“Yeah.” My son seemed a little uneasy about it.
“What is it?”
“Well, if he died before he could do anything, that means that the ‘other’ future never comes to pass, right? Especially if the ‘other’ Pendant, from this time, is dead, too.”
“Right. I think.”
Sammy nodded. “So, why am I still here?”
“What?”
“Well, shouldn’t I just…cease to exist? If the Pendant from the present is dead, he can’t call the Rikti. Therefore, I never go back in time. So, I shouldn’t be here.”

I shrugged. “I have no idea. Remember, I’m new to all this time travel stuff.”
“Oh.”
I smiled slightly. “You seem a little disappointed by that.”
“Well, yeah, I guess. When I was younger, you seemed to know everything.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. You were….pretty cool.”

I tried to hide my smile, and completely failed. Somehow, though, I didn’t mind.

“Come on. Let’s go get dinner. Your mother will be annoyed if we don’t get back soon.”

*

The apartment seemed…different.
That was the first thing I noticed when Sammy and myself walked in. Looking around, it felt…colder, somehow. Not in temperature, but in feeling. Pulling out a spare Fire Sword igniter, I motioned for Sammy to do the same.

I glanced around the living room. Everything was the same – white carpet, cream faux-leather furniture. Not exactly to my tastes, but Emily had a thing for a thing she called ‘retro minimalism’. As far as I could tell, it meant minimising colours. However, there was something amiss. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was very wrong.
“Do you feel that?”
“No, what?”
I frowned. It was an uneasy feeling, faint, but there. “You ever hear of the expression ‘someone just stepped on my grave’?”
“Sure. It’s a short shiver you get when something’s off.”
“Yeah, well, in this case, someone’s staying on my grave.”
“Huh?”
I shrugged. “It’s like…that shiver. But constantly.”
Sammy frowned, and looked about the room. “Nothing’s wrong here, though, Dad. Sure, Mum isn’t here, but is that really so strange?”
“No! I can’t explain it. It’s like…” I was lost for words. It felt almost like déjà vu…I could almost see myself walking into the room, and…

And what?

I shrugged it off. “Never mind.” I looked around, and something caught my eye. It was subtle, so subtle I had missed it on my first glance. However, a piece of paper was pinned to the wall near the dining room door. Moving cautiously over to it, I stared at the words on the note.

“Jason. Got your wife. Got Pendant. Come find me. All the best. It is, it is, a glorious thing…” – it was signed, but the signature was an illegible squiggle.

Sammy read over my shoulder. “Huh.” Oblivious to my total apathy to him, focusing entirely on the note, Sammy started pacing the room, trying out what he’d learned from me in detective work.
“Okay, so, what do we know about the guy? Firstly, he’s smart. He broke in without any of the security trying to stop him. Also, he might work here. Then, he leaves you a note, taunting you. He uses your personal letterheaded paper to do it, so he has a grudge against you.”
I sighed. “Sammy.”
“So, we have a current…or maybe former…employee. The room isn’t a mess, so there was no struggle…family friend? Trusted advisor?”
“Sammy.”
“But one who doesn’t like you. And what’s with that line at the end? ‘It is, it is, a glorious thing’?”
“…To be a pirate king.” I finished for him, turning to face him.
“How’d you know that?”
“I know who did this.”
“Who?”

I frowned. It was impossible. Had to be.

“I did.”

[ QUOTE ]
Nice, though random! O_o

[/ QUOTE ]

Heh. There comes a time when I get bored of singing jazz/blues standards.

After being inspired by THIS thread which started of as being pretty anti Fire/Fire Blaster, I decided the time had come to start 'officially' singing on the forums again. (Yeah, I know, I did a piece for the Ballad Of Bridger, but it doesn't count).

A nice, lilting melody accompanies my new tribute/parody/call it what you will.

Fire Blaster

Enjoy.

Staying with the whole 'flashback' theme for this chapter. Although some of you may consider it quite boring, there are a few points which will be more important in the next story. Besides, it gave me an excuse to write more scenes where Sammy isn't just a face on a screen. Why does everybody love Sammy, whereas Jason is seen as a 'sap'?

Chapter Six

1996 - 2006

Ever since Sammy and myself had started going to the local college, we had found ourselves drinking, nearly every day, in a pub, which was situated right next door. There was another pub opposite it, but they didn’t take too kindly to students, so we wisely stayed out. That pub was deemed fit for what would have, in the 80’s and very early 90’s, be called ‘Yuppies’. Having been born in late 1980, I missed out on the whole ‘Young Urban Professional’ craze. The pub we found ourselves in, instead, was The Jolly Roger, which was basically a working man’s pub infested with students.

The Jolly Roger was built for the Everyman, and instead of them, the Everystudent decided to flock to the banner of the skull and crossbones. The owner, a former student himself baring the odd moniker of ‘Flasherman’, shrugged his shoulders, and welcomed the students with open arms, a big smile, and a staff with a careful eye out for fake IDs. Not that the latter part mattered, as the staff for The Jolly Roger were, to a person, all students themselves, and would swear blind about seeing an ID for everyone they knew.

Sammy and I had started drinking there when we attended the college, to get diplomas in performing arts. Sammy had started smoking by that point, cigarettes and pot, and, although I never smoked grass, I had the occasional cigarette. Strangely enough, I never got addicted. I considered it good genetics. Sammy considered it as me being “A pansy who doesn’t smoke properly”, amongst other things. The term “Big girls blouse” came up every now and again, too, which sent me right back to when were both seven, and calling each other “A big girls’ blouse” was the rudest thing we could think of.

On our first day at the college, we seemingly still bore hangovers from our ‘end of school’ party, three months previously, when everyone who was anyone came. Not just from Byregood, either, but from all the other schools. I remember dancing with an amazingly good looking young woman, whom Sammy seemed to know. He introduced us to each other, in fact. “Jay-Man, this is Emily Campbell. Em, this is my boy Jay.”

Of course, Sammy being Sammy, he promptly threw up on his own shoes and ran off.

I learned that the girl…Emily…attended Mitchelake, a nearby school which was actually a hated rival of Byregood students, loved to dance, and had very soft lips…

Memories of that girl lingering after me, three months after the fact, when we were sitting in the college theatre, with the other students. Sammy nudged me with his shoulder, and pointed a girl out. Thinking he had seen a particularly attractive girl, I looked over. I could only see her back, since she was sitting down at the front of the class, and Sammy and I, being the rebels that we thought we were, had sat on the back row, but what I saw, I liked.

All I could see was her back, but I was impressed. Long legs covered by jeans, which were far too tight, since they revealed a backside which defied belief, it was so tiny. I watched as she sat down, and her long black hair came down over the back of the chair…spilled over, really. She leant forward, and slipped off the rumpled and greying black leather jacket she was wearing, to show long, slender arms, with just a hint of muscle tone to them. She shook her head slightly, letting her hair fall back down, and I caught the faintest impression of a slender neck, which right there and then, I wanted to kiss. She settled back down, and I realised that I never actually saw her face, and, furthermore, Sammy couldn’t have, either. Turning to him, I grinned, and whispered, so as not to draw attention to myself, “Sure, she looks good from behind, but I bet she’s a real dog.” Sammy turned back to me, and stared in confusion and disbelief.
“You’re kidding, right?” He whispered back.
“Well, sure. Girls with a body like that are always making up for something wrong with them. I bet she’s hideous.”
Sammy continued to stare at me. “Jay? You’re a retard.”
“What?”
“And you’re [censored].”
“Pfft. You’re [censored]. And so is your mum.”
Sammy, being Sammy, elbowed me in the side, making me fall off my chair.

The head tutor of the course, who was in the process of welcoming all of us, stopped talking about whatever he was rambling on about, and stared at me. “Do you two have something you’d rather be doing?”
“Uhh….no, sir.” Sammy said, as I got back up, hoping I didn’t completely embarrass myself, and ruin any chances I had of impressing the girl at the front. The girl who had turned, along with the rest of the class, to watch me and Sammy…the girl who looked strangely familiar…
“Well”, our tutor, who had the rather bizarre name of Rasmussen, “Perhaps you’d like to enlighten us all on what you two were discussing, that you felt more important than finding out what it is you’d be doing over the next two years.”
Sammy paused, and looked at me helplessly. For all his fine points as an actor, he had never achieved the skills I had at what I called “Improvising in the face of danger”. Or, as Sammy referred to it, “the ability to [censored]”. It was a skill I drew upon quickly.
“Well, Samuel and I were just discussing the fallibility of the belief that Stanislavski invented Method.”
“I see.” Rasmussen left a dangerously long pause, during which time I felt nervous. Sure, my skills at BSing people were usually good, but as the old saying goes, ‘Don’t kid a kidder’, and actors, despite what anyone else believes, are as much bullshitters as anyone else, and, in most cases, much better.
“Perhaps,” Rasmussen continued, quietly, “You two could share your discourse with the rest of the group, since you will be studying the life of Stanislavski as part of your History of Theatre lecture.”
Oh.
“In fact, since it’s the lesson I, myself, teach, I would be very appreciative to hear your beliefs, myself.”
Oh, [censored].
“Right now.”
Oh, [censored] it all to hell. Still, it was a hole I had dug, and I considered that any hole I dig, I can get out of.
“Well, sir…”
“Rassmussen will do fine.”
“Thank you.” I took a deep breath. “Konstantin Stanislavski is widely considered to be the ‘Father’ of the Method style of acting, which is generally recognised to be the premiere style of acting today. Finding the truths behind the characters, and all that.”
“Thank you, yes. I’m familiar with the notion of acting, young man.” Rasmussen’s eyes glimmered dangerously. I pushed on.
“Well, if anyone has read ‘An Actor Prepares’, which was written by Stanislavski himself, they find out that he was taught the Method style by the director of a theatre group he was in. So, rather than create it, as is the popular belief, he modified it, endorsed it, and brought it into the mainstream.”
“But, at the same time, isn’t it possible that Stanislavski took what his director taught him, and pushed it into regions that hadn’t been considered before?”
I nodded sagely. Or so I’m told, I don’t know how a Sage nods. “Which is precisely what Samuel and myself were discussing.” I took another deep breath, and prepared my final shot, trying very hard to ignore the amused look in the eyes of the strangely familiar, and amazingly attractive, girl, and trying even harder not to wink at her.
“I apologise sincerely that we disrupted your first session with us as a class, it’s just that this is an ongoing debate between the two of us, and one, I fear, which will never dissipate.”

Silence.

The whole theatre space was completely silent. It was as if the whole class had sensed my attempt to improvise my way out of danger (yes, yes, or [censored]) and was holding its’ collective breath. Then Rasmussen opened his mouth slightly, and I saw the hint of a smile. “Young man, you’re quite an amazing [censored] artist.”
“Thank you.” I smiled back.
“And full of moxie.”
Not knowing what moxie was, and I must confess, I still don’t, I shrugged slightly. “Your name is?”
“Jason. Jason Tucker.”
Rasmussen grabbed a stack of papers from the desk behind him, and riffled through them. “Ah, yes, Mr Tucker. Top GCSE grades in Drama, Music, and English, I see. Nothing else, though.” He nodded to himself. “Applied with Sammy Edwards…the ‘Samuel’ sat next to you?”
Sammy waved weakly, and sunk into his seat. “Edwards, Edwards…where else have I seen that name?” Rasmussen flicked through the pages. “Ah, yes, here we are. Oh, yes, your auditioning notes. The young lady you auditioned with and yourself are the only two people from your session to make it in. Let me see…” Rasmussen peered over his half-moon glasses. “Emily Campbell?”

Have you ever experienced one of those moments where time sort of…freezes? One of those instances in your life when time slows down to a complete standstill, like when you’re listening to a cassette, and you slowly let the play button slide up, making the music go from jaunty to creepy? That’s what happened to me, when I saw the amazingly attractive girl wink at me, turn back to the front of the class, and put her hand up.

“That’s me.” A voice lilted over the crowd.

“Sammy?” I whispered.
“Yo?”
“I’m going to kill you.”

***

So, Emily, Sammy and myself quickly bonded…Sammy tried a little too hard to bond with Emily, in fact, asking her out in the first five minutes of the three of us sitting around a table at The Jolly Roger. That didn’t sit too well with me, as you might understand, and we had words about it. Well…not words, per se, but his bruises spoke volumes.

Emily and I started dating in our third month of the course, and, after the end of the two years, decided to move in together, in the house Sammy and I were renting. With Sammy my housemate, things could get a little…awkward. He walked in on her in the shower far too many times for it to be accidental. However, for the most part, we were happily ensconced (her word) in our “Pimp pad of mad love” (his words).

Then came the night everything went wrong.

I was dressed, as Sammy had oh, so delicately described it, as looking as if I was a car interior from the 1950’s. Emily was wearing a long, dark blue dress which highlighted her eyes, and Sammy…well, he was as smart as he was ever going to get, wearing a grey sweater and clean jeans. We went to The Jolly Roger to, not as Sammy had often put it, ‘Get Rogered’, but to take part in a charity event where all the proceeds (including the total cost of the alcohol…Flasherman’s contribution to the event, which actually ended up being the largest contribution of the evening) would go to the war effort. Some soldiers, it seemed, had just finished their basic training, and were shipping out, over ferry, to America. Flying was too dangerous with the Rikti ships about, but sea travel seemed just fine.

The soldiers sat, pride of place, on the raised ‘stage’, as we called it, drinking their free beer, and having a laugh with us all. They were all a little too rowdy for my tastes, but, then again, they were going off to fight in a war. One of the soldiers, I could see, seemed fairly uncomfortable to be there.

I knew just how he felt.

Not that I was against ‘doing my part’, of course, far from it. However, my unease at the surroundings had everything to do with Emily. To be more precise, Emily, and how she might react to the small jewellery box in my pocket.

Sensing my nerves, Sammy took me by the shoulder, and dragged me outside.
“Dude, what’s wrong?”
“What? Nothing.”
He laughed. “You’re having second thoughts, aren’t you?”
I smiled faintly. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to me, because I know you so well. And, of course, most of the pub.”
That was certainly no exaggeration. In the six years Sammy and I had been regulars in the Roger, we had befriended many people, and most of them tonight knew exactly what I had planned. After the main event, when things were winding down, I was going to get on one knee and propose. This was for two reasons. Firstly, I didn’t want to detract from the main reason we were all there. Secondly, out of consideration for the evening, once people started to stop drinking and think about leaving, the proposal…if she said yes…would bring about even more drinking, and therefore, more money to the war effort. If she said no…well, hopefully everyone would be too drunk to remember.

The ring in my pocket was the single most expensive piece of jewellery I had ever bought. I had no real money to speak of – I worked in a call centre for market research. However, I had saved for, literally, years, and had managed to buy, for the bank account dentingly sum of £3,499, a diamond ring which would take her breath away. I took a breath to steady my nerves, and was about to walk in, my head held high, when Rasmussen ran out.

“Mr Tucker!”
“Rasmussen? How’re the new students treating you?”
“Jason…” Rasmussen ignored me. “You can’t go back in there.”
“Why on earth not?”
Stepping past my former tutor, I strode into the Jolly Roger, to see…

Emily and that quiet solder. Kissing.

The only people in the pub making any noise were the soldier’s friends, who were hooting and hollering. Everyone else was as stunned as I was, and looking either at Emily with hatred, or at me in sympathy. I didn’t notice, though.
I was too busy dying inside.

Sammy stood behind me, and I’m pretty sure it was him to caught me as my legs bucked, folding in under me as I stumbled backwards. He didn’t say a word to me as he lead me back outside the pub, and, for once, walked the short distance back to our house in complete silence.

He sat me down on the couch, and made me a cup of tea, pushing it into my hand so I would notice. He went upstairs, and still not having said a word, went to bed.

*

April 12th, 2006

Emily sighed as she remembered the past. The fight with Jason, after kissing Pete in The Jolly Roger, had been bad. Worse, by far, than the one they’d had just recently, before Jason was shot at. She remembered, at the time, that Jay had just…sat there. On the couch. Taking in every word she hurled at him, every criticism she could think of, every insult about his masculinity, stone-faced and wordless. After she tired, she glared at him, waiting for a response.

She wasn’t totally unsurprised by the one she got. Expecting a long, drawn out shouting match, that would help her on her way with Pete, feeling guiltless, Emily instead watched as Jason stood up from the couch, putting his mug of tea down on the carpet, walking over to her, reaching into his pocket, and pulling out a small velvet box.
“Goodbye.” Was all he said, and walked up the stairs, never looking back.

Emily was out of the door and halfway back to the pub, to rejoin Pete and his friends, when she realised she had the small box clenched tightly in her hands. She opened it, and stared. Her eyes started to water, and she wiped them quickly.
Putting the ring in her pocket, she considered going back to Jason. But…she knew he wouldn’t take her back. Not after what she said. She could only go forwards, with Pete…

From that day, until the day Jason had proposed to her again, in their apartment in Paragon, Emily had worn that ring around her neck, on a gold chain, to always remember what she had nearly lost for good.

The elevator chimed, and Emily looked up, hoping to see her husband and his protégée, big smiles on their faces after a long day of nothing. However…

The man who entered the apartment was dressed like her husband. He walked like her husband, and looked like him. But…when you love someone, as Emily did Jason, you knew them intimately. Not in a sexual manner, but you know them inside and out. You know their soul.

So, when Emily saw the monster that was wearing her husband’s body, she screamed.

“Aww, what’s wrong, honey?” The monster smirked, using her husband’s warm voice. “I’m home.”

Before she could react, he pulled out a long pistol, and shot her. She felt a pinprick, and glanced down. Before she slipped into unconsciousness, she noticed a blue-tipped dart sticking out of her chest.

“Nighty night, love.” The monster chuckled.

Then, there was nothing.

[ QUOTE ]
Stupid as a fox!

[/ QUOTE ]

Ahem.

Chapter Five

April 12th, 2006

I’ve never considered myself to be a family man.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my wife, and I know Emily’s wanted children. I have nothing against the urine splashing, faeces dropping, screaming little brats myself…as long as they go home with their parents at the end of the day. Something told me to never say it in quite those terms to Emily, however.
I valued my body as it was.

Kids start off as mewling, drooling babies, who consume mass quantities at one end, and leave large, smelly secretions at the other. When they get older, they always want to know stuff, or get into trouble. When they get even older, they start breaking things, and that’s when commercialism comes into play. Computers, video games, bikes, the latest album for some musician you can barely understand, screaming into their microphones about how they’ve had it rough their whole lives (of course, they rarely, if ever, mention that they’re millionaires now. Oh, yeah. They’re ‘street’) then cars, then help with a down-payment on a house, and, although they may say ‘thank you’, they secretly think it’s all their due, anyway.

Kids? You can keep ‘em.

However, over the past few days, since Sammy came to live with us, a strange thing’s been happening. I’ve enjoyed having him around.

It hasn’t been long since I’ve known I have a son, let alone a son from the future. But, there’s something so very…right about all this. I like coming home and spending time with him. I like myself, Emily, and Sammy all sitting around, eating pizza, watching a movie. I enjoy the hell out of training him, too. It’s like having a little…well… ‘me’. And yet, it wasn’t just like looking at me. Sammy clearly had some of Emily in there, as well. The stubbornness he had was all her, although she would never admit to it.

Since she had no idea that Sammy was our son, this made things easier for her to deny.

I was at a turning point in my life. It had no momentous revelations prompting it, I just…realised that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, this was my family. I was under the same roof as my wife and son. I loved them…no, more than that. I liked them, as people, not just as beings tied to my life through legal certification and genetics.

I would happily kill for my family. I would happily die for them, too. However, now, I was merely content to live for them.

*

That Bob kid sure is weird.

Don’t get me wrong, I like him. I like him just fine, but…there’s something not quite right, there. I can’t put my finger on it, but, when I do…

Part of me doesn’t know why Jay brought him into our home. I mean, c’mon, I’m pregnant. Pregnant. With child. There is a Goddamned bun in my oven, Jay put it there, and now he’s playing silly buggers with a street child?
Another part of me likes it, though. I’ve always known that Jay hates kids. He’d never admit to it, of course, and I have to confess, part of me likes the fact I can use that to keep him in line.

But, to see Jay with this kid? It’s like we have our son here already, all grown up. Jay’s….kind. Patient, even, with this Bob kid. He’s started putting time aside where it’s just the two of them. I don’t know what they get up to, but, knowing them, it’s probably either that damn Superhero training. Or racing with remote controlled cars. I wouldn’t put either of them past those two.

Jay was happier than I can remember seeing him, except for our wedding day. It felt weird, that myself, Jay, and this Bob child were a…sort of a family. The sort of family I felt I’d always missed out on. I thought back through my life, wondering how I had ended up at this point.

Pete. That had to be it. If it hadn’t been for Pete, I wouldn’t even be here…

***

August 19th, 2002

“Come on, Jay!” Emily laughed at her boyfriend. Jason Tucker, age 22, was enmeshed with a battle, hand to hand, fight to the death…with his tie. “Would you hurry up? Moron’s going to be here any minute.”
Jason sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t keep calling Sammy that.”
“Jay…he’s a pervert with a Superhero fetish, and he’ll never amount to anything, because he’s copied test results from you since you were 12 years old.”
“So?” Tucker shrugged.
“So?” Emily blinked, disbelieving that her boyfriend could be that dense. “Jay, we don’t know how long the war’s going to last, or if we’ll win it. Shouldn’t you worry about yourself?”
“Just myself?” Jason grinned at her easily.
“Well….me, too.” She pressed herself up against him, and kissed him deeply. When she felt him respond, she pulled away quickly, and, before he could open his eyes, deftly tied his tie.
“Heey!” Jason frowned. “That was cheating.”
Emily smirked. “I have no idea how you ever got along without me.”
“I didn’t.”

There was a sound from the lower level of the house, as a voice shouted up, “Honey, I’m home. Put it back in your boxers, and tell Campbell to put her knockers away, willya? A brother’s coming up.”

Emily snorted. “A ‘brother’? He’s as black as snow.”
“Word.” Jason deadpanned.
“Oh, stop.”
The bathroom door flung wide open, and Sammy Edwards, Jason’s long-time best friend, stepped in.
“Waaaaaaaassssssssaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap?”
“Oh, God…”
“WAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP?”
Emily slapped Jason in the chest. “Don’t encourage him. He only gets worse.”
“True dat, ho.”
She glared at Sammy. “I’m sorry…what did you just call me?”
“Uhm…a ‘dat’?”
“Riiiight.”

Emily checked the time, as Sammy and Jason studied each other’s clothes. “Damn, Jay-man, what’s with the smart look?”
“Oh, it’s….you know.”
“Ah, say no more. You’re under the thumb, gotcha.”
“I…I am not!”
“No, no, you’re right, you’re not….hey.” Sammy frowned. “How’d you get that mark?”
Jason turned to look in the mirror. “What mark?”
“That mark on your forehead.”
Jason stared at his forehead in the mirror.
“I don’t see any mark.”
“Dude, I’m telling you, there’s a big [censored] mark right there.”
“I don’t see it. What does it look like?”
“Emily’s [censored] thumbprint.”

Jason scowled. “Funny man.”
“You know you love it, baby. So…where’re we going, anyway? And why did you dress Jason up like your own [censored] Ken doll?”
“One, we’re going to the pub. It’s a charity night. Two…I think he looks smart.”
“He looks like a car interior from the 50’s.”

Jason frowned, and examined himself in the mirror again. Emily had ‘suggested’…well, okay, insisted, that he wear his black suit with a red shirt. Admittedly, he did like the look.
“I,” Emily was saying, “Happen to think he looks very sexy in red and black.”
Jason turned to her. “Really? I’ll have to remember that.”
“Dude, you look like that [censored] fish from our biology class in year 10. What was it called? A Blood Pirate? A Bloody Carrot?”
“It was a Blood Parrot. And what’s wrong with red on black?”
“Nothing, nothing. Hey, if you find out you get Superpowers, that should be your name.” Sammy turned to the exit, and held his hands over his head. “Blood Parrot….away!”

Jason sighed. It was going to be a long night.

This is where paying attention really starts to help.



Chapter Four

2013
The Difference – A

Sammy was in trouble. He knew why, too. Of all the times to be sneaking around his parent’s bedroom, he just had to get curious about the old briefcase he found in the wardrobe.

It had been a quiet day, when young Samuel had ‘accidentally’ thrown his ball into his parents room. Naturally, they kept the door closed, but that wasn’t any real problem for the young genius that Sammy was.

’So what if I’m failing my classes?’ Sammy scowled at himself. ’I hate school anyway.’ Sammy was, by nature, a curious individual, always wanting to know ‘why’. His father, a successful businessman, with little time on his hands, somehow found the time to spend a few hours with Sammy every day, playing catch, or joining in with the latest video game, and always answering questions as best he could. His mother, by contrast, was the strict one, often chiding both males in her family for being immature. Sammy always thought his Dad was, although the biggest, strongest man ever, just a big kid at heart, like himself, and often saw his father sticking his tongue out at his mum after a disagreement over whether the video games were too violent.

His Dad was, for wont of a better term, ‘cool’. His mother was a typical mother, always worrying. But his Dad…?

His Dad was the greatest, and never kept anything from Sammy. Ever.

Which is why little Sammy, at the mature, responsible age of seven (“And a half!” he’d say) was surprised to find a small, locked briefcase, hidden away behind clothes in his parents walk-in wardrobe. His natural curiosity got the better of him, and, instead of trying to open the lock then and there, he clutched the briefcase to himself, and snuck out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Back in his bedroom, he examined the lock with chubby fingers and bright brown eyes. Before he could start to work on the lock, he heard footsteps pacing the hallway. Shoving the briefcase down the side of his bed, Sammy, grabbed one of his favourite books, ‘The Little Woogie That Boogied’, and pretended to read, as his mother opened the door, and stormed in.

“Samuel Jacob Tucker!”

*

He sat on the couch, sulking. His mother was pacing the floor, occasionally stopping, taking a breath and looking at him, before resuming her pacing.

“Samuel…” She began after a while, and Sammy knew she meant business. Nobody ever called him by his full name, not even Aunt Sarriss, unless he was in very big trouble. “Do you have any idea how rude it is to go into somebody else’s room without their permission?”
“It’s my room!”
“It’s….what?”
“I was in my room, reading my book.”
“No, Samuel, I mean mine and Daddy’s room.”
“Wasn’t in there.”
“You weren’t?”
“No.”
“Then…” His mother paused, and brought out a big red…ball. “What was your ball doing in our room?”
“It…rolled. An’ I didn’t want to get it, because I’m not allowed in your room without your perm’scun.”
“Permission.” His mother gently corrected. “And, how did the ball get into there with the door closed?”
“S’magic.” Sammy shrugged.

“What’s magic?”
Both Sammy and his mother turned around. There, in the doorway, taking his black overcoat off, was Dad.

“Dad!” Sammy bellowed, and, jumping off the sofa, ploughed into his father with the force of a bull. His Dad, though, never budged so much as an inch backwards. Instead, he crouched down, and picked up his son, swinging him around. “Hey, little man!” He chuckled. “So, what’s magic?”

“Uhm…the man on television doin’ tricks.” Sammy nodded to himself.

His Dad grinned, then walked them both over to his Mum, and kissed her cheek quickly. “Hi honey,” He joked, “What’s for dinner?”
“I thought we’d start off with Lobster bisque; move on to stuffed pheasant with a Chinese salad on the side, and for dessert, tiramisu.”
His Dad nodded. “Take-out again?”
“Please, Jason, you know I can’t cook.”
“True enough. But then, I didn’t marry you for your skills in the kitchen.”

His mother blushed slightly. “And what skills –did- you marry me for?”

His Dad grinned, and gestured, with his head, to Sammy. “Where did Sammy come from, again?”

“Okay, I get it.”

*

Later, after Sammy went to bed, he turned on his ‘official’ Batman Buddies torch (given to him by Batman himself! Or…so he said. Really, nearly all he said was just that. “I’m Batman”) and peered at the lock on the briefcase.

‘Hmm. Might take a while…’

Little Sammy nearly gave up on the briefcase, when suddenly, almost of its’ own accord, the lock snapped open. Sammy smiled happily, then peered inside.

‘What? This ain’t right…’

Sammy pulled out two metal belts. One was golden with a red buckle, the other was black, with a blue buckle.

Sammy had grown up in Paragon City. He saw the news…well, what little of it his parents allowed him to watch. Plus, Aunt Susan worked for a newspaper, didn’t she? The one with all the funny drawings near the back. So, suffice to say, he knew a Power Belt when he saw one. And here was not just one, but two!

It could only mean one thing.

‘My parents are…are…Superheroes!’ Sammy let out a slow whimper of happiness. ‘I wonder when they’ll tell me?’

Chapter Three

April 9th, 2006

It was late when I got back to The Foundation building, and to my penthouse. Although I had asked Emily not to wait up, she, of course, did. The lift doors opened, and I strode into our living room, before sitting, exhausted, on the couch next to her.

Fighting Sammy had taken more out of me than I’d thought. He was getting good, and fast. ‘Good.’ I thought to myself. ‘He needs to be prepared. We both do.’
Emily smiled over at me. “What’re you thinking about?”
“Our son. He’ll need better Fire Sword training.” I replied, absently.
She laughed. “Jay, he hasn’t been born yet. Give him a few years before he can pick up a Fire Sword.”
I blinked. ‘Oh, right.’

I hadn’t told Emily about my little encounter with our yet-to-be born son. I had lots of reasons for it. Firstly, it would totally freak her out. The tiny little person inside her was also a 16 year old young man in my old Supergroup base? Do me a favour, she’d think I’d lost the plot.
Secondly, even if she did believe me, she’d bombard him with questions. On our first meeting, that’s what I did to Sammy. Only, with Em, I know that she wouldn’t stop. She’d want to know her biggest strengths and weaknesses as a parent, and change them before he even gets born.

That was the real issue. If either myself or Emily changed our parenting techniques, we might radically change the poor boy before our eyes. That’s not something I want to deal with. Just leave well enough alone. Besides, from what I’ve seen, we did an okay…no, better than that, we did a great job raising him. He’s nice, friendly, considerate, and he cares about nothing so much as he does his family. I wouldn’t want to change that for the world.

However…he needed a home. Somewhere to stay beyond that cramped little Base. I had lived there for nearly a year, and I hated it. Plus, I had Susan, Sarriss, and Sam to keep me company, until Emily came back into my life. Who did Sammy have?
Nobody. Surely there was a way around that?

I cleared my throat. “Actually…Em. I wanted to talk to you about something?”
“Oh?”
“That ersatz Fire Guardian. It turns out, he’s been living in the old Base, working with Sam.”
“I should have known. That computerised git would try something like that.”
“It isn’t his fault. The kid found a spare Power Belt, and asked Sam to help him.”
“Ahh. Hang on.” Emily frowned. “I thought you could only get in with an Identichip.”
I paused. “He found one, I guess.”
“Oh.” She shrugged it off, so I pushed on.
“Anyway. Living with just Sam there, it’s going to be a bad influence on him. He’s only 16, and an orphan.”
“What happened to his parents?” She shot.
“They…died in the Rikti attack.”

Smooth. I guess I didn’t have to tell her which one.
“So, I was wondering if he could…stay here?”

Emily put down her book, and studied me intently. “You’re mentoring him, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I nodded without hesitation.
“Well…is he going to steal from us?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
I smiled. “I think his parents brought him up better than that.”
“Well…if anything happens whilst he’s here, it’s on your head. And he’s gone once the baby comes. I don’t want him being a bad influence on little Sammy.”

I tried not to laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Okay, then. What’s his name, anyway?”

*

“Bob?” Sammy raised his eyebrows at me.
“It was the first thing that came to mind!”
“Yeah…but…Bob?”
“What’s wrong with the name Bob?”
“I prefer Sammy.” He grumbled.
“Me too!” Sam chipped in from his monitor.
“Silence, you.” I glowered, then turned my attention back to my son. “Look, there are reasons for not calling you Sammy. Okay?”
“Name one.”

Was I ever that petulant when I was his age? Oyy…

“You need to stop thinking about yourself as my son, at least in public.” I put my hands on his shoulders. “Look, Sammy, although I didn’t have anything to do with your upbringing…I’m proud to see that the ‘other’ me did a wonderful job. I’m honoured that you’re a product of my marriage, and I can’t wait to see you grow up. But your mother…Emily…won’t understand. I don’t want her knowing you’re our child. She’d freak out.”
“Amen.” Sam chipped in. “[censored] has always been crazy.”
I glared. “That’s my wife you’re talking about. Now watch it, before I upload you into a toaster.”
“Yeah, and I’d make the best [censored]’ toast in the world, too.”

I ignored Sam, and smiled at Sammy. “Look, kid. You can’t stay here. There’s no social interaction no matter what Sam might say. I’ve been here. I lived here for about a year, and I hated it.”
“Cheers.” Sam frowned.
“What’s your problem, man?” I scowled.
“Oh, nothing. Except you’re going to turn me off again, aren’t you?”

I said nothing. In truth, it was what I had in mind. I didn’t want Sammy being influenced by my old friend…or him telling Sam exactly how he’d originally died.
However, Sam had a Guardian Angel…so to speak.

“Dad…Jason. We can’t shut him down. We need him to track Pendant.”

I held my tongue. Admittedly, this was true, but…surely it was something we could do the old fashioned way?

“Please?” Sammy pleaded with me. “He’s my friend.”
“Word.”
“Shut up, Sam.” My son growled, sounding uncannily like me.

I sighed. “Okay. But you have to feed him and take him for walks every day.”
Sammy laughed.
“I am Housetrained, you know.” Sam grinned evilly.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing. Nothing.”

*

I introduced my son to his mother.

Yeaah. That’s not something you get to say every day.

I saw Sammy…uhm….Bob take in the view of the apartment, as Emily tried to make him feel at home.
‘Sucker.’ My little internal Sammy snorted in my head. You know…I’d almost missed that particular figment of my imagination? ‘How can she make him feel at home? He grew up here.’
“…And this is your bedroom.” She finished.
“Yes, I know.” ‘Bob’ remarked, before wishing he could take it back.
“Excuse me?” Emily seemed confused.
“Oh, that is…I can tell. The bed’s all made up.”
“Ahh.” Emily didn’t seem totally convinced, but she let it slide.
‘Good save, son.’
“Well, it used to be Jason’s study. After you leave and the baby comes, it’ll be converted back.”
‘Bob’ and I shared knowing glances, and….hey, wait! I lose my study?
Bugger.
‘Bob’ put his suitcase down on the bed, and sat on it, looking around the room. “It’s perfect. Thanks Mu…Mrs Tucker.”
“That’s okay, Bob.” She smiled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to call for a pizza. What do you like on yours?”
“Anchovies, tuna, and…are you ordering from Paragon Pizzeria?”
Emily nodded slowly. I’m guessing she assumed it was a simple guess that made him say out the name of our favourite pizza takeaway.
“Right, in that case,” Sammy continued, “Can I have some Calamari on my pizza, too?”
“Sure.” Emily glanced at me. “Same on yours?”
“Of course.” I nodded, trying not to hide my smirk.
‘Looks like my son inherited my taste for seafood pizza.’

Emily left the room, and I grinned at Sammy. Before I could say anything, however, the 42” plasma screen that used to be my computer monitor blinked on, and a grinning face appeared.
“I thought she’d never leave!” Sam turned and grinned at me. “Told you I was housetrained.”

Oh, great.

*

The old man shuffled his feet along the pavement. He was 74 years old, and feeing every day of it. The past two years hadn’t been kind to him. Once, one of the most celebrated minds of his day, he was now forgotten. Unknown.

That wasn’t strictly true, however. He was still celebrated. Just the old man wasn’t.

‘Where did it go wrong?’ He asked himself sadly, for only the hundredth time that day. ‘Was I really so naïve when I was younger?’

He cast his mind back six months. Back when everything was starting to go wrong.

*

October 11th, 2005

Cody Pendant had everything going for him. He was fit, despite his 56 years, and generally considered to be a genius in his field. He frequently met with the local government, and acted as a science advisor to Mayor Anson, who was particularly enamoured with the ideas of time travel. Pendant had no idea why, of course.
‘What’s the worst the man can do?’ He had asked himself more than once, ‘Fix the local elections so he wins faster?’

Everything was going great.

When his desk intercom buzzed at him, Pendant sighed, and pressed a button enabling the two-way talk feature.
“Yes?”
“Doctor Pendant…your father is here to see you.”
“My…father?” Pendant frowned. His father, a deeply pious man, disagreed with every aspect of his son being a scientist, claiming he was meddling in “God’s holy work.” He hadn’t heard from his father in close to thirty years, and had assumed the old guy had snuffed it long ago.
“Send…send him in.”

‘I wonder what the old coot wants.’ Pendant mused to himself. ‘Probably money.’
Pendant looked at the door expectantly, and, although his expression never changed, he instantly realised that it couldn’t be his father who had come to see him. His father had always been stooped over, a small minded man who was most comfortable in his ‘relaxation’ clothes, which amounted to a bathrobe, slippers, and little else.

This man, however…

Pendant estimated him to be maybe twenty or so years older than himself, but born with a confidence that made him seem ageless. Striding into his office, head held high, wrapped in an Italian silk suit, as comfortable in his clothing and surroundings as if he had been born into them.
This was most definitely not his father.

“Hello Cody.” The man spoke, a knowing smile on his face. He shut the door behind him, and strode towards Pendant’s desk, sitting down in one of the visitors chairs. “I’ve been looking forward to this conversation for a long, long time.”
“Thanks. I think.” Pendant frowned. “Not to be rude, or anything, but….who are you?”
The man smiled broadly. “I’m you, of course.”

Pendant stared. “That’s a terrible joke.”
“Oh, it’s no joke, Cody. I’m you, from the year 2022. Look at my face. Listen to my voice. How could I be anyone else?”
Pendant’s face paled. “Can you prove this?”
The man sighed. “Remember back at University? Our dorm-mate, Frank Carroll? How he killed himself?”
“I…”
“What they left out of the papers was that he had committed suicide because his girlfriend, a biology major, if I recall, had left him for someone else.”
Pendant could only nod.
“And, whilst it was a regrettable and surprising conclusion, coming home and finding Frank with his head in the oven…his girlfriend really was quite the kisser.” Pendant stared at the old man…his future self, in shock.

Imagine working on something for most of your life, so you could better mankind. Then, have it succeed, but in a way you never expected. This…man, this mockery of himself, was so calm, cool, and collected. How could he get older and show no trace of emotion?

“Now,” His counterpart was saying, “We have work to do.”
“Work?”
“Yes, work. I’ve travelled about before I came to this timeframe. Bought some stocks in a company, then cashed in when the time was right. And now, Cody, I’m here to help you.”
“I…don’t understand.”
“The Rikti, you fool! I’m here to help you contact them sooner than you…we did.”
“Rikti?”
“Yes. We don’t have to wait sixteen years anymore.”
Cody stared. “For…contacting the Rikti?”
“Yes!” His future self seemed glad that he had gotten the gist.
“I see.” Pendant paused, and pressed the intercom button on his desk. “Anneliesa,” He said to his secretary, “Call security and notify the Paragon PD that we have a Rikti collaborator in my office.”

What?

*

April 9th, 2006

The elder Pendant escaped, barely, and now lived from day to day, on the street.
‘How could things have gone wrong?’

Pendant frowned. He had no recollection of the event from his past self’s point of view, which was troubling in and of itself. But, he had turned on himself.

Had he miscalculated? Was it possible?
‘No, no, it isn’t.’ Pendant thought furiously. ‘And yet…’

Not watching where he was going, Pendant tripped and fell, face first, over an obstacle. Groaning, he picked himself up, and glanced back at the thing that had made him trip.

He saw a boot. A shiny, black, metal boot, which belonged to a man in black armour, with faded, dark red highlights, depicting flames. The mans’ young face was clearly visible, and it sneered in contempt.

“Hello, Doctor Pendant. How nice to see you again.”
“Mr…Mr Tucker! You…I mean…how…?”
“How did I track you down?” Tucker smiled easily.
“Yes…”
“Did you know that every individual who travels in time leaves a specific…let’s call them ‘signatures’. Yours is quite easy to find, you know.”
“It…I mean…look, Stuart….Simon?”’
“Sammy,” Tucker nodded. “Nice try, though. Doctor…I feel I have to show you the error of your ways.”
The younger Tucker smiled, and Pendant barely registered a glimpse of something bright, a flash of metal, before he felt a sharp impact. Looking down, Pendant saw the ornate, golden hilt of a dagger embedded in his chest.

Then he knew no more.

Author's Notes:
Yeah. I'm actually bored of waiting to update, so here's chapter two.

Chapter Two

April 9th, 2006

I paced through the dark room, which was only illuminated by my Fire Sword. I carefully put each foot down, toe to heel, as I had been taught. ‘Stealth is key.’ My trainer had told me repeatedly. ‘If they can’t hear you in a pitch black room, they can’t attack you.’

Straining my ears for any sign of someone moving….a scuffed footfall, perhaps, or maybe laboured breathing, I cautiously turned, trying to never prevent my attacker from having a clear target at my back.

Nothing.

I held out my Fire Sword as far as I could, angling it horizontal, and raising it up, using it as a light bar. I did a quick 360, but could see nothing. I was alone in the room. Frowning, I turned off my Fire Sword, and with it, the room quickly bled darkness once again.

All alone with my thoughts, I only barely noticed a light tap on my shoulder. Spinning around, another Fire Sword erupted into existence, making me reel back, shielding my eyes. When I dared to open them again, an armoured man stood in front of me, his face, usually concealed by a full mask and helmet, was open, smirking at me, his Fire Sword a foot away from my neck.

“Gotcha.”

Yelling inarticulately, I swung my arm around, my speed honed by my time in the batter’s cage, igniting my own Fire Sword at the same time. The older man was surprised, and I managed to knock his Sword out of its’ line of attack. Stepping back, he raised his sword so it was parallel to his right side, pointing vertically at the ceiling, holding his left arm across his body, ready for me to attack.

I was happy to oblige. Raising my Sword so it was horizontal over my head, I held my right arm out, palm down, ready to slash diagonally across him, maybe knocking the Sword out of his hand. From there, I could kick him in the stomach, knocking him down, and then…

Submerged in my thoughts as I was, I barely registered my assailant jumping high into the air, performing a twisting somersault over my head, and kicking me forward. As I stumbled, he stuck his foot between mine, tripping me over. I rolled onto my back, and his Sword shone in my face, obscuring my vision in the darkness.

“I quit.” I scowled.

A nearby monitor blinked into life, showing a blond man in his mid 20’s, dressed in a dark hooded robe, cackling insanely.
“Good…good!” He cooed malevolently. “Now kill him, and take your rightful place at my side!” He barked, grinning evilly.
“Sam…” My attacker sighed, before switching off his Sword. “Lights!” He ordered, and Sam, the Artificial Intelligence which ran the Base we were in, obeyed, flicking the lights on.
My would-be killer…my Father…offered his hand, which I gratefully took, using him as a counterweight to pull myself up.
“I can’t believe you got me again!” I sighed.
“Relax, Sammy, you almost had me when you deflected my blade. You should have followed through though, instead of letting me regain control of the situation.”
“You…how did you regain control? You jumped over my head…”
“When you were distracted.” My Father shook his head. “You overuse the jodan no kamae position when you’re trying to gather your thoughts, because you think it looks dangerous.”

“I…yeah, you’re right.” I admitted, too tired to give an excuse. Then, I remembered the beginning of our match. “Where were you?”

“Pardon?” My Dad affected a little half-smile which I recognised from my childhood, usually directed at my mother, when he knew or did something he shouldn’t.
“You were nowhere to be seen! Since when could you turn yourself invisible?”
“Oh, thaaaat.” He chuckled, turning to Sam. “Sam, can you replay the fight, please?”

Sam, still wearing that black robe, grumbled. “Yess…show him your plans, my young apprentice. Show him how you cheated. Then, let him strike you down with all of his hatred, and his journey towards the Dark Side will be complete!”
“Sam!” My Dad sighed. “The fight?”
“Fine.”

The monitor blinked on, showing me slowly pacing the room, turning, always looking, then switching my blade off.

“See? Right there, that was your mistake.”
“Where? I didn’t see anything.”
“Exactly. Sam, run that through a low light filter, and replay.”
When the image came back on, everything was grainy. The Fire Sword had lost its shape, and was now just a mess of white pixels on the screen. And, hovering above my head, was my Dad.

I watched in fascination as, when the Fire Sword was deactivated, he turned towards the camera, winked, smiled, and waved, before lowering himself down behind my still form.

“Always….but always look up.” My Dad chided.
“That’s….you….cheated!”
“That’s right, I did.” My Dad said levelly. “And why do you suppose that is?”
“Because you’re a dick.” Sam offered, getting a glare in response.
“Because…” I struggled for an answer.
“I ‘cheated’ because when you’re face to face with a mugger, or an arch-villain, or even a mob of Trolls, they’re not going to say to themselves ‘Oh, he’s armed with his fists and a Fire Sword, so I should make this clean and honourable’. They’re in it to win, and winning means taking you out by any means necessary. Unless,” His face lost its customary smile. “Unless you want to accuse them of cheating.”
“No, sir.”
“Good.” My Dad nodded. “You’ve got a lot to learn about being a Superhero, Sammy. I can’t believe that I didn’t teach you any of this stuff before.”

*

Why didn’t he teach me any of this before? Well, it’s a complicated story. The short version of this is that I was raised by my father, had seen him every day of my life, all sixteen and a half years of it…and yet, I had only met him six days ago.

Confused? Yeah, I would be, too.

My name is Samuel Jacob Tucker. Don’t call me that, though, only my mother does that – and only then, when I’ve done something real bad. I generally only answer to Sammy, or SJ. Not because SJ are my initials, but rather, because that’s what Sam, the Artificial Intelligence and all-round wiseass computer program calls me. See, I was named after the guy he was templated from, and…I haven’t been born yet.

Bear with me. It gets better.

See, I’m a time traveller. Not by any real choice. It isn’t my vocation, and I’m as lost as some of you undoubtedly are right now. (Authors interjection: If you really are stuck, try Bloodlines. BF) However, the events that led me to this point are bloody, gruesome, and not for the faint hearted.

The Rikti invaded again. They were helped by this guy, Doctor Pendant, who’s collaborating with them, for some reason. I dunno why. My Dad, who’s also a Superhero called ‘The Fire Guardian’ when he isn’t being a rich benefactor, tried to stop him, but he was attacked by some dude dressed all in black, who laid him out. When he came to, he came home to death and destruction.

I knew something was going to happen, though. A few days before the attack, I had a…I suppose it was a dream, but it wasn’t. It was more like I was in a movie version of a Rikti attack. Ever since I woke up, up until the point the Rikti invaded, I could hear something in the back of my head. It was like a buzzing whisper, which gradually got louder and louder, saying ‘Rikti’ continuously. It stopped moments before they invaded.

Does that mean I’m psychic? Telepathic? Right now, I don’t know, and I don’t much care. All I know is, my parents were killed trying to help Doctor Pendant, who fooled them…fooled everyone…into believing he had a secret way to win the war. He escaped back into the past…the present, and, with the assistance of the future…present….future (The very notion of time travel gives me headaches) Sam, came back in time, myself, to prevent Pendant from doing…well…whatever it is he’s doing.

Sounds simple enough, no?

No.

You see, there are other factors in play, here. Sure, we have to stop Pendant. That’ll be easy. All we have to do is track down the future…present…whatever Pendant, or arrest the present Pendant. Or, as my Dad said, with a glimmer of something I don’t trust in his eye, just kill the Pendant who’s supposed to be in this timeline.

Since I recently learned that both my parents have killed in the past, I’m not sure how to take that remark.

The more difficult job here is that there’s another timeline at work here. Instead of just my timeline, and the one that’s supposed to be here, there’s a third at work. Sam’s confirmed that, but he gets tight lipped when we ask him how he knows. ‘Doesn’t want to affect future events, and bringing about another wrong timeline’. Makes sense, if you ask me. Somehow, with little to no information, we have to stop the other wrong timeline from being brought into play.

My Dad’s suggested that the masked man in black who attacked him…or will attack him, is Pendant. It seems likely, but…there’s something at the back of my head which is nagging me, telling me that it’s impossible. I’m not sure what, yet, but I’ll pin it down.

The third, and final obstacle in front of us is, I’m not supposed to be here. Obviously. I wasn’t supposed to let either of my parents know I’m here – a task I failed at miserably. Since my Dad has reported to me that I’ve been conceived, so I’m definitely on the way, I’m not going to vanish from the timeline. However, one wrong word, one wrong gesture, and I might just…blip out of existence. If I tell my parents that Company X will have a massive raise in stock, they might put all their money into it, and end up even richer. However, the act of them doing that will pervert the timeline, and Company X won’t have the same future; it might, instead, go bankrupt, and my parents will be worse off.

As Sam explained to me…‘fate is a [censored]’.


So, that’s my story.