Fire_Guardian_EU

Why, thank you.

And since your remarkably insincere remarks about feeling bad when you TRY to kill me in Bloody Bay have affected me...

Everyone feel free to listen to this clip, except for Jac. She isn't allowed. Work In Progress

Really? I was in Bloody Bay just yesterday...I asked if you were around, and all the NPCs just laughed at me.

Jac, I love you.

Cheers! It'd be pretty cool to get a group of us doing a large song - something like Band Aid, but without the starving kids.

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Wow, nice man! Now I have the Fire Guardian album!

What's the album name?

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When I read that before work, the idea got stuck in my head. Well, along with one that Stas gave me. How about "Blaster Blues"?

No, I'm not critiquing others, but I thought I'd put up all the songs I've currently done for CoH under one topic, for easy reference...although some were taken off for being rubbish. So!

1. When The Forum Types

2. Paragon City (The drunk rapping one)

3. Sarah The Scrapper (New)

4. The Blaster's Lament

5. Just Load It (New - proving why I shouldn't rap sober)

6. We Will RP (No, not a Queen tribute. Sheesh!)

And, just because I get a laugh out of them, two non CoH related songs.

7. For Once In My Life

8. I'm Your Man

Hi guys. For anyone wondering why I haven't updated in a while, it's because of writer's block, concerning the character of Sarriss. Thanks to Wordmaker, Big Z, and some others, I've got some ideas in motion, but it'll take a while to jot it all down.

When I start writing again, instead of it being on here, I've opened a Fanfiction.net account, which can be found by clicking the link in my signature.

Thanks for reading, and don't forget to keep comments coming!

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Gah! I've completely forgotten the timing/pitch for the third verse.

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Grr. Stabby stabby. The timing can be found by utilising this handy Reference Guide which has totally buggered my voice.

The things we do for our art. Gah.

It's toe-tappingly good!

That doesn't matter! If you're worried about the timing, just send me an MP3 of your voice, without the music, and I can do the timing here.

Definately! It's an open invite for anyone who wants to sing it to do so. Even though I've recovered from the flu now, my voice still isn't 100%

That's a great idea. Okay, there werea few in there, but they're all good.

I might not end up using them...well, I probably won't, since you came up with them, and I try not to use other people's ideas, but I think I'm getting on the right track, now. Thanks!

...No, Word, I'm sorry. Although it's an age old excuse, when I wrote that, I'd had a long day and was pretty drunk. I was writing just what was coming off the top of my head. I do appreciate the help you're trying to give me. It's funny, when I'm writing scripts, I've got absolutely no problem getting across the points of my characters - yet I, myself, have a massive problem getting my own points across.

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If you tell us you want help with sexual discrimination, and then drop the reconstructive surgery element with no other reference to its role in the story, we can't possibly realise why you're putting it in there.

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Well, it's role in the story is just, as I mentioned, part of her "rebirth". It's just one of the many things that Sarriss, the character, will have to get used to, but once she does, it isn't coming up again. The main drive for her character is revenge against the guy who caused her accident which gave her superpowers, and leaded to the reconstructive surgery, because he took her life away from her. Revenge isn't something I'm particularly familiar with, no matter what the character's background, gender, etc, so there's that aspect to it as well.

More than anything else, I want to write a female character who's strong, independant, but never loses her femininity, or her humanity. In her previous life, as I think I mentioned before, she was Anti-Hero, yet now her whole life is the complete opposite. As opposed to being a hardworking person who fights crime, yet gets little recognition, she's now a picture perfect Superhero who, at the stage of the story I'm currently at, has yet to fight a single crime, but gets worshipped, simply because she's a Hero; in short, she's become everything she's despised in the past.

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Basically, I'd like to know absolutely everything there is to know about female superheroes, and how they'd act in varying situations.

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Read comics.

Obvious answer, but what you're asking sounds like you want all your work done for you. You've given no indication of having researched this up to now. Have you actually written fiction of any kind before?

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Well, on top of my regular job, I work as the creative director for a local theatre company, and write scripts that mean I...y'know...get to eat real food, as opposed to live on sandwiches. Does that count?

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There's an old saying that you should "write what you know." If you don't know, find out. Read, watch TV, find existing material to work from.

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Write what I know. Well, that's kind of the point. You see, I don't actually know what it's like to be a woman. Funny, that.

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If you have questions, by all means ask them. But asking for us to tell you "everything" is either a poor choice of words, or just plain lazy.

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Or, option 3, a joking response. I've said, more than once, what I'm looking for, and what I hope to gain, and I've gotten some good responses, especially from you. However, continuously asking me the same question over and over again does nothing but leave me frustrated, and try to find different ways of saying it. Maybe it isn't that I've phrased it poorly, but that you just don't grasp what it is I'm looking for? If you don't, that's fine. From other answers you've given, you've given me things to work with. But pushing the questioning when there's no point is kind of irritating for me to try to answer, and you'll get irritated with me, in return, for not phrasing it the precise way you like.

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Incidentally, is there a reason your character is more attractive after her surgery? In Knight Rider, the main character is shot in the face in the pilot, and the people who save him give him a new face and identity to protect him. From what you've said up to this, it seems that the only reason you have to have her injured and made more attractive is an excuse to have guys hit on her. I assume she looks significantly different after her surgery?

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See, that's just it. She isn't more attractive just to be attractive. It's a by-product, a symbol of the fact she's been, for wont of a better phrase, "reborn" as a superhero, with her life turned upside down, and she's going to experience things she never has done before. It's going to be the entire thing she clings to - that her life is completely different. I see now that 'being hit on' was the totally wrong example to give, but that's all it was. An example. As a homicide detective, this character's going to be 'asked' to leave the police force because of her new powers. She has to start out fresh, and won't be recognised by her friends, her family, or especially her enemies - much like, as you say, in the Knight Rider pilot, where Tanya, who shot Michael Long in the face, doesn't recognise Michael Knight up until the final act, when he says "It's not a starry night in Nevada, but it'll hurt just as much", when pointing a gun at her face, as she did to him.

I apologise for not phrasing my questions in the exact, precise way you like, Word. From now on, I'll be sure to not ask anything.

Verily cool!

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I personally have no trouble at all seperating myself from my characters. I do empathise very strongly with them, and don't like bad things happening to them. But I know that what's IC stays IC, and bears no reflection on myself or other players as people. At least, it shouldn't.

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You're right, it shouldn't. However, I've seen a lot of OOC friendships be broken over RP opinions, where the RPer in question has shared those beliefs with their character. Were I to RP, I'd probably try something as different from me as possible, because then, it'd be a challenge, and might teach me something about myself. However, due to the elitist actions and opinions held by the RPers I know (And, I'd like to stress, I'm not including anyone from CoX in that - hell, if I'd have asked any of the RPers I've met in the past 12 years the questions I've asked you guys, I would have been met by a week of silence followed by a resounding 'shut up, BK') I've made a conscious decision to not RP. However, you guys are changing my thoughts on RPers. Anyway, I'm getting OT.

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So...what are you asking about, then?

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Basically, I'd like to know absolutely everything there is to know about female superheroes, and how they'd act in varying situations. An impossible task, since they'd all act differently, but you have to try, right?

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I try and establish a base personality for my characters and work from that. It seems to help me, hope it helps you

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Well, the character in question is a former homicide detective who was pretty Anti-Hero, seeing them as leaving "the little people" behind to fight a larger evil. Maybe necessary in the long run, but still hurts ordinary citizens. However, since she got her powers, she's had to adjust her beliefs as she gets accustomed to 'the other side'. Another thing is that before, she was...'plain', but the reconstructive surgery she had (she was badly beaten and left for dead) left her more 'attractive', so she has to get used to guys chatting her up.

edit: Written before Z asked for it, too. I'm just that good.

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As regards getting hit on, and my own feelings when it's happened, do you mean IC or OOC? As in, male players who are actually trying to chat up players of female toons, assuming they're female in real life?

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Well, getting hit on was just an example. As, stereotypically, guys hit on girls (which, as many women would tell you, is far from the truth) just as girls shouldn't be, also for example, Super Strong, leaders in the environment, and all the old [censored] that has no place in the world, yet we still see.

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See, this is where we come into confusion. You talk about not having players in the story, then ask about players reactions when getting hit on, and this normally happens out of character and not in a RP/story enviroment.

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Yes, but I'm a big bowl of crazy. However, seperating the player from the character isn't always as easy as, say, water and oil. IME, unless there's a set character someone is roleplaying with a pre-set personality (I've got a long, distinguished history with the people fom WBS, and watching 50 people pretending to be Han Solo? Fun!) the character and the player will always have some intermixing. Also...you don't RP relationships? Awww.

Sorry if I'm confusing you guys more. Blame the person who pawned me off onto you.

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More on this after I have dinner. Pancakes!

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Don't abandon your people in their hour of need! Oh, wait. Pancakes? Banana and chocolate chip!

Sorry, I was taking each post one at time, but I just set my bedroom on fire, so I had to come downstairs. Don't smoke, kids! (Well, alright, it was a few embers in the bin, but the smoke was horrendous)

So, I'm going to take Stas' and Word's together.


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Just to clarify (as your second post confused me slightly), are you wanting to know how the character feels? Or how the player feels?

i.e. Stasis' feelings, or my feelings?

Really though, it all depends on your character's personality. She's not going to be affected by stereotypes either way if she's a strong-willed woman. Contrary to that, if she's a feminist, she may take more offence. It's really up to the character--assuming, of course, that you want to know the character's reaction rather than the person-behind-the-character.

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Stasis, I can see where you'd be confused. However, let me confuse you more. There aren't any "players" in my story, just the characters, however, I want to get a well rounded idea, from both sides of the story; i.e male players who play as female characters (how do guys cope with being considered female, being hit on, whatever) and female players who play as female characters.

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Word, your post is pretty long, and I can't take each paragraph at a time. However, I totally get where you're coming from, and on the whole, I appreciate your comments. I'll take what you said on board. Thanks!

Oh, I see where you're coming from, completely. However, there's always going to be a gender bias in any world. Whilst I treat my characters as individuals, that doesn't mean that other characters in the story are going to.

Take the Internet. Would any guy get caught getting an A/S/L message? Maybe if they're pretending to be a girl in a chatroom. Something I've found is that women are generally treated as sex objects, little more, little less, and that's something I want to try to get across, without being too preachy about it, or, as you say, stereotyping it. It not being something I've been a part of, I need some input.

A lot of the times in Paragon, whenever I've played, I've never seen someone say 'You can't play because you're a girl', or anything so sexist. I have, however, noticed a trend for people...particularly the newer players, aim to get female Heroes in their team, whether the player is female or not. What I'm trying to get behind is how that feels for a female character...again, whether the player is female or not. Is it unwanted? Embarrassing? Do they petition? What're the emotions behind the actions they take?

Hey, guys.

Something I'm knocking about on for my new story involves a female character relating, in flashback, the changes she went through when she became Super. Not the physical changes, but rather, the psychological. Not being a female myself (at least, last time I checked) I don't have much experience in the differences between how men and women are seen in a workplace, or social setting. I listen to female co-workers all the time, complaining about how differently they're treated, but they're all whiners anyway, and I can't take what they say at face value.

My question is this: How is a female Superhero treated, in comparison with their male counterpart?

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That mayor has had it coming to him for a long time, time to spoil their plans.

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Well, there'll be a wait for that. I've written the first chapter of Flames Of Justice, so now all I have to do is join up the dots, so to speak.

And the joining will continue:

Chapter Five

Authorial Interjection: The first part of this chapter came about after hearing the news that Statesman had a kid. We await his first word, which will, no doubt, be ‘Nerf’. Also, shout outs are going to Weasel Boy and Big Z. You’ll see when. Maybe.

*

It took a few more weeks of planning before I was ready. I found a small room in the base which I converted into a gym, and trained non-stop. I convinced SAMI to pipe music through the PA system to pump me up. SAMI, being SAMI, obliged by playing Abba, Cheeky Girls, and The Spice Girls songs, just to irritate me. I’d wipe his…it’s memory, only I didn’t know how. Sadly, SAMI was well aware I didn’t know how, and continued it’s task happily. It was during one of these sessions when SAMI asked a question.
“Hey, Jay man?”
I sighed, and looked up. Although I could hear Sam, and he could hear (and, thanks to some irritating cameras see) me, I couldn’t see him unless he transmitted his image to a secondary monitor, which he wasn’t doing now, nor could I gauge his moods at any particular time.
Now that was odd. When did I start thinking about SAMI as…Sam? As a ‘he’, and not merely a thing?
“Yes, Sam?”
“Where do babies come from?”
…
“I….what?”
“Babies. Little pink humans that cry, spit, wail, eat, [censored], that sort of thing.”
“Sam, stop messing around. You know where babies come from.”
“That’s just it. I don’t.”
I grabbed a towel, and mopped at my face and hair. “Sammy knew where they came from, and you should have all his knowledge. Plus, you’re a Supercomputer, who was programmed by a doctor. Don’t mess around, Sam, I’m not in the mood.”
“What? No, I know about the biology of humans, and your acts of procreation. Since we started talking, I’ve read up on several poems, works of fiction, and factual thesis on the subject of procreation.”
“And?”
“The Kama Sutra is definitely my favourite.”
I rolled my eyes. “No, I mean, why do you ask about babies? I don’t understand.”
“I understand the biological functions which produce offspring, but I cannot fathom the emotions behind it. What convinces a man and a woman to engage in sexual relations to have a child?”
“Oh. Well, there are lots of factors.” I looked directly into the nearest camera, and shrugged as it focused in on me. “Alcohol, boredom, guilt…the usual.”
“There are lots of mentions on the word ‘love’.”
I shook my head. “So, what, you want to know what love is? Don’t go all Star Trek on me, man.”
“Hmm?” Sam paused for a few seconds. “Oh, yes, I see.”
“What?”
“I just watched all episodes of the television series Star Trek, all of its’ sequels, the prequel, and the movies. William Shatner didn’t age particularly well. However, you’re right, machines do seem to have a hard time understanding the concept of love.”
I made my way from the gym to the main room, watching the CCTV cameras swivel and rotate towards me, watching me advance. “Probably because it isn’t a concept. You can’t define emotions, or categorise and departmentalise feelings. They rule human thought and action.”
“Wow. Sucks to be you.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Is this why you’re so intent on finding Emily, even though she told you not to try?”
I stopped at a fridge, and opened it up, grabbing a bottle of ‘Back Alley Brew’.
“Yes.”
“What does it feel like to be in love?”
“It’s…not really something I can describe. Didn’t Sammy know?”
“Not that I can tell.”
I wasn’t surprised. I sat down at the long table, and kicked my feet up, cold beer in hand. “Sammy loved the physical aspects of a relationship, Sam. That was all there was to it, for him. Just the sex.”
Sam paused, digesting this information. “Was he any good at it?”
“How would I know?”
“He was your best friend, and vice versa. If anyone would know, he would have told you.”
“Guys…tend to exaggerate. There’s an old saying that the more you boast about something, the less likely it is to be true.”
“So?”
“So, if that stands up, Sammy was terrible.”
“Ah.”
I eyed the screen. “How does that make you feel?”
“I don’t feel.”
“No, I mean, what’s your reaction to learning that your progenitor isn’t everything your data file says?”
“I do not understand.”
“Verbalise your internal responses to the statement I gave about Sammy, please.”
There was a slight pause.
“There is conflicting data here. Attempting to remedy. Error. End remedial action. Retrying. Error. End remedial action.”
I smiled at the screen. “Enough.”
Sam frowned at me. “What is going on?”
I grinned. “You’re confused. That’s an emotion, too.”
“Ah, I see.” Sam nodded. “So, is that what love is like? A series of conflicting data which you cannot sort through?”
I chuckled. “Most of the time? Yes.”
“Then I stand by my previous statement.”
“Oh?”
“Sucks to be you.”

*

Susan was being followed, she was sure of that. A man had been tailing her for the past half hour.

She had only intended to go as far as Galaxy City, to speak with a donator to The Tucker Foundation. However, things quickly escalated for her, and she found herself in The Hollows, phone in her hand, eyes darting about looking for help.

Wandering past an old building, she used the window’s reflection to look behind her. The man was still following, but had been joined by two friends, walking slowly, casually, and never once taking their eyes off her.
‘Calm down’, she muttered to herself. ‘Maybe they’re just fans. Yeah, right.’
Susan snorted to herself, and ducked into a nearby alley, hiding behind a dumpster, just before she heard a slight thus, then another, followed by one more. Then, nothing.
Straining her ears, she tried to pick out voices, their footsteps, even their breathing, but to no avail. After a few minutes of hearing nothing but the wind, her legs began to cramp. She wanted to stand, to run and hide somewhere she’d be safe, but she had no idea who these people were, or what they wanted. How could she be safe hiding from something out to get her, when she didn’t know who, or what, she was hiding from?

She couldn’t take it anymore. Peeking around the corner, what she saw made her gasp. The three men all had blades out, but they didn’t seem to be much of a threat. Maybe it was because they weren’t looking at her. Maybe it was because they were all unconscious, and on the ground. Or maybe…just maybe…it was the fact that, leaning against the alley wall, was Sarriss Groundwalker.

“What’re you doing down there?” Sarriss grinned at her.
Susan got up, and dusted down her knees. “You could have let me know you were here.”
“This way was more fun.”
Susan glanced at Sarriss and scowled. Always smiling and cheerful, Sarriss towered over her 5’3 frame by nearly a foot, broad shouldered and, as much as Susan hated to admit it, statuesque. That was the only way to describe Sarriss. Light brown curly hair over a red and yellow one piece that left little to the imagination, Sarriss had always made the normally attractive feeling Susan feel like an ugly duckling.
“Still teasing guys at Pocket D, Sarr?”
“Something like that.” Sarriss nodded. “I heard you were looking for me. Does it have anything to do with these three…gentlemen?”
“Possibly.” Susan shrugged.
“Well, let’s go.” Sarriss began floating off.
“Go? Go where? These guys found me, they know who I am, and what I look like. They’ll be coming after me again, and probably more of them, too.”
“Right. So let’s go somewhere they won’t be able to find us.” Sarriss held up a small green computer chip, and winked. “ ‘Welcome to my lair, said the spider to the fly’.”
“What? You’re a spider, now?”
“No. I think we’re both flies on this one. C’mon, there’s a base portal in Atlas we can use.”

*

I paced the floor of the base. Sam was searching for details on the trap Mike had set for that reporter, and he was coming up empty handed. Err….empty memory keyed.
“Would you stop that?” He glared at me.
“Hmm?” I quit my pacing, and turned to look at the monitor.
“It’s very distracting, you walking around like that. Quit it.”
“How can you possibly get distracted?”
Sam shrugged. “It’s just an expression. But, still, it’s irritating as hell.” There was a beep, and he looked off-screen. “Portal’s been activated.”
I stared. “What?”
“The portal…to the base…” Sam spoke as if I were deaf, or stupid. “Has been…activated.”
“Meaning?”
“Well, Jay old boy, I think it means someone’s coming to the base.”
“How?”
“My guess would be an IdentiChip.”
“Really? Well done, then!” I sputtered. “It’s good to see all that artificial intelligence isn’t going to waste. Are you sure you’re not running on a 486 with a big screen?”
Sam glared at me. “If you’re going to be like that…”
“Be like what, Sam? Your idea of an intruder alert is dreadful! ‘Oh, by the way, some guys are coming in unannounced’. You’re useless. I ought to delete you, and let a copy of Theme Hospital run in your place!”
Sam continued to glare, and then, all of a sudden, he winked out, leaving a blank screen.
“Sam? Oh, hell.”
The door keypad beeped several times. Luckily, I had put a lock on the door, so nobody should be getting through…

CLANG!

What the hell?

CLANG!

They’re trying to break in! Okay, okay…think. You’re a smart guy, what do you do? I looked at the screen in desperation.
“Sam!” I hissed. “Stop messing around!”
The screen remained blank.

CLANG!

Okay, that one sounded harder. I looked around the room, and my eyes rested on a small raised platform.
Nah, that only works in movies, and bad stories I mused to myself.

CLA…

Oh, nuts. Out of time.

*

Susan wearily followed Sarriss out of the base portal. She suspected that Sarriss either didn’t know, or didn’t care, that traversing the portals for Non Powered Citizens could be physically draining. She stumbled out of the blue light, and looked around. They were contained in a small metal room, a closed door the only visible entrance to the base, lit up by the harsh blue glowing of the portal, a closed circuit camera hanging overhead.
Sarriss leaned over, and studied the keypad for a moment.
“No way of knowing how many numbers are used in the passcode. Therefore, no way of knowing the odds.”
“Isn’t this your base?” Susan frowned.
“It’s…a friend’s.” Sarriss offered as her only explanation, tapping on the keypad at random.
Susan watched Sarriss guess at the passcode combination, and eyed her suspiciously.
“You have absolutely no idea what the password is, do you?”
Sarriss grinned in the blue light, as she turned to face Susan. “Let’s just say the friend doesn’t know that I’m a friend.”
“So we’re dropping in un-announced?”
“Oh…” Sarriss looked up at the security camera, which had focused on her. “I’d say he knows we’re here.” Reeling back her fist, Sarriss punched the door as hard as she could.

CLANG!

Sarriss shook her hand, and hissed gently at herself.
“What? Did that hurt?” Susan blinked. “I thought you were supposed to be super strong.”

CLANG!

Sarriss’ fist struck again, and, as she reeled back for another hit, she turned to face Susan. “Does that mean things don’t hurt? No.”

CLANG!

Sarriss tilted her head. “I think that got something. One more…”

CLA…CRUNCH!

Sarriss yelped, and shook her hand. “Okay. Definitely a bone or two broken. DAMMIT that hurt!”
Susan peered at the door. “I think you got something, though. I heard a crunching noise.”
Sarriss turned back to her companion, and Susan was glad that Sarriss couldn’t set things on fire with her eyes. If she could, Susan herself would certainly be dead.
“That…was my hand.”
“Oh. Well, anyway,” she said, trying to change the subject. “I think you broke the lock. Look!”

Indeed, a miniscule crack had appeared in the middle of the door.
“Great.” Sarriss frowned. “What do you want me to do about it?”
“Well…open it. You’re the super strong one.”
“…With a broken hand.”
“Ah.”
“Yes.”
“Hmm…” Susan edged forward, and placed her fingers in the crack, trying to push the door open. No sooner had she gotten a firm grip, however, the doors slid open, seemingly of their own accord.
“That…was easy.” Susan stated, looking around the room they had uncovered.

It was a large…chamber. That was the only word that lent itself to Susan’s mind. A large wooden table dominated the middle of the room, in front of a huge LCD monitor, which was currently switched off. Various adornments were scattered about the place, and, off to one side, on a small raised circular platform, was a statue facing the door, its’ back to the monitor, with it’s arms behind it’s back, and on it…

Susan gasped, and pointed to the statue. “Look! It’s the uniform!”
Sarriss took a look, and grunted her recognition. “Yeah, I know. I didn’t realise he’d changed to wearing a real uniform, though. I heard his Power Belt was damaged in the warehouse fight, but that seems so…archaic.”
Susan had stopped listening, if she had even heard a word. She moved closer to the statue, taking it all in.
After all these months of thinking him dead, not counting the recent mugging where she had been rescued, the uniform could only belong to Tucker. Unless…
“Is it really his? I mean, Tucker’s?”
“Huh?” Sarriss looked confused.
“Well, maybe it’s a copycat. That’s what the Mayor thinks.”
“The Mayor…you don’t know everything about him that you think, Susie.” Sarriss mocked her. “He’s up to things you have no idea about.”
“Such as?”
Sarriss paused. “Let’s find the Guardian, first. He’s definitely here.”
Susan tore her eyes away from the costume, and looked at her friend.
“What makes you say that?”
“Well…” Sarriss started, before nodding to the table. “That looks like a bottle of beer to me. And, unless it’s ridiculously cold in here…which is isn’t, there’s no reason there should still be condensation on it. It’s fresh. Therefore, Guardian’s in the base.”
Susan nodded, impressed. “Not bad.”
Sarriss shrugged. “I used to help out the police a bit. I was a homicide detective.”
“I never knew that.”

Before Sarriss could reply, the black screen winked to life, showing a man with a finger to his lips.
“Uhm…” Susan said, unsure of what to do.

Do not say a word. I’m here to help, but you must be quiet. Appeared on the monitor over the man.

“So…” Susan continued. “Where do you think we should look first?”

Hello Sarriss. It’s good to see you again.

Sarriss smiled warmly at the monitor. “I think we should look in the bedroom.” She said, winking at the man on the screen. He winked back.

He’s a lot closer than that. He’s in this room.

“Really?” Susan squeaked.
“Sure.” Sarriss continued, as if Sue had been speaking to her.

Your friend is very close to him right now, as it happens. Flashed up.
If I were you, I’d try tickling that statue.

Susan span and faced the statue. It stayed rigidly still, not moving so much as a millimetre. She examined it closely, but nothing happened. Sarriss came over, and stared into the yellow goggles covering up the eyes.

“Wilks says hi.”
The statue turned to face Sarriss, and nodded. “How do you know Wilks?”
“He’s a member of SNAFU, like I am. Can we talk, Mr Tucker, or are we going to play Musical Statues all day? I mean, if you want to, we can all stand around all day. If, however, you want to get your revenge on Mayor Anson, get your fortune and your company back, and see Emily again, I’d suggest we take a seat.”

What am I do do?
I know, I'll write a Haiku
And it'll rhyme. Nuts.

Ahh. No, he hasn't melded with a Warshade. Not a bad idea, but since my main is still a level 21 Blaster, I don't have the necessary experience to know how an Epic plays.

I was worried about how the changing from 1st to third person would be taken, and now I see, for good reason. Whilst I'm completely comfortable with it, I'm not the sole reader of the story. Basically, whilst this story is the sequel to Into The Inferno, it isn't the -main- sequel, more of a sideline. I realised, when I started writing The Flames Of Justice, the original sequel (if that makes sense) that I wanted chapter one to be already set up, without having to muddle through introducing new characters, such as SAMI, Susan, Sarriss....a whole bunch of characters whose names begin with 'S', basically. I decided, instead of making Flames Of Justice 100 or so chapters long, or giving short chapters setting up the plot, characters, storythreads, etc which wouldn't do them justice, I would have to write another sequel, just to fill in certain blanks. Granted, I could have done this by means of a 'chapter' set aside to character biographies, but as a reader of fan fiction, I generally don't like everything being broken down for me that way, since I find it patronising. Sure, some things have to be explained in greater detail, but not to a stupid degree. Otherwise, it takes a lot of the fun out of reading things.

Just for an example, my idea of a Power Belt. Now, if you've read Into The Inferno, the technology comes up, and is actually a plot device in and of itself. Basically, the belt worn by Jason Tucker/FG projects a forcefield which looks like pieces of clothing, making up his costume. In my version of Paragon, a hero can have a small number of costumes available to him, programmed into the belt, and swappable at any time. This was my way of explaining away the costume slots we get as players, as well as why someone in the game wearing next to nothing has the same amount of protection (powers not included) as someone of the same level wearing a suit of armour. A forcefield seemed like the best solution, so I ran with it.

Now, I could have spent several thousand words on the subject, discussing the science behind it, etc, but why would I want to? It detracts from the story, and breaks the interest of you, the reader. The main problem I'm facing as a writer is to provide credible (for the universe of CoX) explanations for the technologies I use in my story. Writing SAMI gives me a huge headache, since I have to balance 'Supercomputer' with 'foul mouthed best friend', although it did give me the chance to play around with some A.I stereotypes, as well as give a shout out to two forum buddies of mine, subtle as it may be. Come to think about it, there're a lot of things and terms I've had to explain away, which come up in some strange places. Kill-stealing, NPCs, etc, all phrases heard in Paragon, no matter what server you're on. I've tried to blend these "real world" phrases in with my version of Paragon City, and give them a plausible explanation. NPCs, for example, now stands for Non-Powered Citizens. Not bad, eh?

The problem I've had in taking on various phrases and gadgets is, whenever we're asked to read a piece of fiction, watch a TV show, go to a movie, etc, we're asked one thing above all: hold what we see and hear as the truth, if only for a little while. The suspension of disbelief, as DreamWeaver would probably label it. (Which reminds me, DW, since you work in TV, give me a job!) Breaking that suspension of disbelief is akin to breaking a...contract, if you will, between myself as a supplier of entertainment, and you as the reciever.

Ned, you asked about FG's tendancy to be more 'shadowy', hiding in darkness, etc. That's simply a case of cowardice, on his part. Don't forget, at this stage of his story, he's officially dead, and can only afford to be seen by people who either won't recognise him, won't think he's still alive, or won't be believed by the authorities, who are pretty much Jason's biggest fear. The police, after all, are controlled by the Mayor's office, and the Mayor doesn't particularly like our fair hero. Since Susan is connected to the Mayor in this tale, Jason took a calculated risk of being hunted down and thrown in the Zig, or maybe it was simply because he can't stand seeing anyone in peril. I know, if I were in the same situation he found himself in, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from attacking a mugger/rapist - they're scum. At any rate, he didn't expect Susan to be able to recognise him, and things will certainly turn around and bite him on his [censored] in the not too distant future; I try to keep myself a few chapters ahead of what I post, and things will definately start to come together to the stage I want to be at for Flames Of Justice.

I'm pleased you're enjoying the story so far. As someone who tends to do nothing but make little asides in the forum in general, with the occasional serious posting, it's nice to know that people are aware that, although I try to not take myself seriously for the most part, I can bust some literary heads and lay down a fair line without having to sing.

Now, if only I could get over my years-instilled dislike and mistrust of RPers in general, life would be great.

Take care, and keep on reading. The best is yet to come.


Oh, and since I try to not make a post with my stories that doesn't directly lead on to a chapter...

*

Chapter Four

I moved around my new home, cleaning, tidying, whilst SAMI watched.
That isn’t exactly true. What SAMI did was generate a couch for its’ Avatar, which then proceeded to recline, and drink from a large container with a straw.
“Having fun, Jay?”
I glared up at the screen. “You know, this’d go a lot better if you weren’t dead.”
SAMI shrugged. “Don’t blame me. I didn’t get killed. I’m pre-death, remember?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever. Sammy was a lazy *******, too.”
“Hey! I resent that.”
“Oh, bite me.”
I sighed. This was going nowhere. I glanced up at the screen, where SAMI had finished his…I mean, its’ drink, and was now playing with a yo-yo.
“Is that just a really complicated screen saver, or something?”
“Nope.” SAMI grinned at me, before he ‘walked the dog’. “I’m just bored.”
“How can a computer program get bored?”
“How can a human being who’s supposed to be dead criticise?”
“Uhh…shut up.”
SAMI chuckled. “You know, if you put the table in the middle of the room, it’ll combat the negative space you’ve created.”
“What? Since when were you an interior designer?”
“Since I’m programmed with that sort of thing.”
“What other useless things are programmed into you?”
“Your mum.”
I sighed, and shook my head. Definitely Sammy, no matter how you tried to re-package it.
Something beeped on the monitor, and SAMI glanced off-screen for a second.
“What was that?”
“Hang on, mate.” SAMI pulled out a little mobile phone, and flicked it open. “Go ahead.”
I stared. SAMI…using a phone? I watched as SAMI spoke a few more words into the phone, then hung up.
“We’ve got a hit.”
“A…hit?”
SAMI nodded. “Doctor Wilks pre-programmed me with some specific search algorithms, and any hits on those particular words were to be red flagged, your eyes only.”
“And?”
“And since you don’t technically have eyes anymore…”
“Sam…”
He…I mean it, grinned. “Sorry. There’s someone asking questions about one of the Underground. Might be worth a look.”
“The what?”
“It’s called the Secret National Anti-Foundation Underground. Dedicated to stopping the ‘evils’ of The Tucker Foundation.”
I blinked, trying to sound out the acronym in my head. “The…SNAFU?”
“Hey, don’t blame me. I just work here.”
“Anyway, how is the Foundation evil?”
Sam shrugged. “I’ll feed everything to your optic implants on your way to rendezvous.”
“You can do that?”
“Sure. It’s my job.”
“Okay, where’m I going?”
Sam clicked his virtual fingers, and a map appeared, super-imposed, on my regular vision.
“The Pocket D club.”

*

I’ve been out before, since my ‘death’, and not as John Fernandez. Time to time, I’ve snuck around various places in Paragon where I’ve needed...back-up - places that Jason Tucker couldn't have gone by himself. Since I don’t have any team-mates who can join me out in the field, I’ve had to rely on my Fire Sword, my assault rifle, and my costume’s forcefield. Which means, unfortunately for my plan of anonymity, that I’ve had to become The Fire Guardian again.
Not like last time, though. Last time, I had two ‘official’ outings as the Guardian, and it got my heart broken. Not to mention my right arm, as well as a serious lack of blood from having my girlfriend beat me to a pulp; and that was after she nearly killed me by taking both my legs off with an automatic weapon of her own.
This time was different. This time, I was alone. Solo. A ‘Lone Wolf’. Not that I went on any missions, per se. I entered no abandoned warehouses, or tried to stop the Clockwork from assembling their Macguffin of the week. No, I did what felt right.

I hunted.

This time was definitely different. From the maps that Sam had projected onto my vision, I found a quick and easy way to get into Pocket D. As ‘John Fernandez’, people ignored me, probably believing me to be just another drunken former Archetype, drowning his sorrows. I quickly scanned through the data that had been compiled on SNAFU (what a name) and the newly ‘revitalised’ Foundation, and what I read made me turn cold.
“There.” I heard a voice whisper in my ear. I spun around, and saw…nobody.
“Stop dicking around.” The voice said again.
“Who’s there?” I whispered back.
“Dude, if you don’t stop messing around, I’m not going to be in the right frame of mind for when I visit your mother later.”
“SAMI?” I whispered. “How did you…”
“No time. Actually….stand there.”
“What? Why?”

A blonde flurry collided with me, nearly knocking me down. As it was, she spun me around.
“Yeah, big bad Superhero nearly gets knocked off his feet by a woman weighing, what? 90 pounds?”
I tried to ignore Sam, as I felt the woman’s hand on my shoulder.
“You okay there, old timer?”
Who the hell is she calling…
“Old timer?” I paused, remembering who I was supposed to be. “Oh, right.” The woman looked familiar. Blonde…nice legs…business type…oh!
“I know you!”
“You do, huh?” She seemed…saddened by that, somehow. Women. All of them are insane, even if they don’t try to kill you. Twice.
I nodded. “You were at the funeral for that Hero. The Fire Guardian, right?”
“I….yes.” She seemed stunned, but I wanted to press on. From what I had read, if Anson had discovered a way to shut down this Underground, or had even learned it might be a threat, he’d send someone to look into it.
“The Mayor’s friend.”
She scowled at me. . “Now, why does everyone in this place think of me as just a friend to the Mayor? I have a job. I have a life.”
Okay, so maybe she wasn’t a spy for Mike. At least, not a willing one. I held up my hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.”
We chit chatted for a moment, before I tried to make myself scarce. I had nearly told her who I was, and that wouldn’t be good. Either she’d believe me, and tell Anson that ‘his close friend’ was alive, and well, and spotted in Pocket D looking like an old man, or she’d think I was crazy, try to get me committed, and then tell Anson that some old guy said he was me. Although I’m the old guy, so I would be me…

All this work with disguises and pretence made my head hurt.

I slipped away as quickly as I could, and made it to a back alley, where I took a breather. I saw some movement up ahead, and turned my eyesight to night-vision, where I watched a drunken Hellion stumble about, before approaching a blonde haired…

Oh, no.

*

The next day, for Susan, was a blur. She filed a police report, and was unsure on whether or not to mention the help from the ‘mysterious’ Hero. The police would get a report to all Heroes registered in Paragon, and when it turned out that none of them were the helper, things could get ugly. If it –had- been Tucker who saved her, she might end up setting the police of Paragon after him accidentally, as they might mistake him as a vigilante. It’d be poor form to send a man who had spent millions of his own money to help others, as well as rescue Susan herself, twice over, to the Zig. Of course, it might not come to that. From what Susan had heard, a lot of newer Heroes, as well as more unsuccessful ones, ‘claimed’ to help out more people than they did, in order to boost their own prestige. ‘Kill-Stealing’, some of them called it, even if they never actually killed anyone. Surely one of these people would take credit, whether it was them or not.

The real dilemma, as far as she could tell, was whether or not to tell the Mayor. At her first interview, if she had mentioned that Jason might be alive, and offered the ‘proof’, as circumstantial as it may have been, he may have been overjoyed. After all she had read whilst doing her research, however…

Foundation Allies With Crey!
Tucker Foundation to assist Terra Volta!
Foundation sets up buildings over Paragon!

All in all, headlines which by themselves, meant nothing. However, when compared with other stories…crime rising in areas where the Foundation had put up their flag, Terra Volta having constant problems, as well as long-held suspicions with Crey, it seemed odd. The worst part, for Susan herself, was that she had written the original stories. All those ‘exclusives’, putting a good face on whatever Anson may be really up to.
‘It’s time’, she mused to herself, chewing on a pencil, ‘To go speak with Mayor Anson’.

*

“Susan!” Anson’s voice boomed, making me cringe internally. “To what do I owe this honour?”
“Well, Mayor…”
“Michael, please.”
I nodded. “Michael. I was wondering…”
“You know,” he cut me off. “I just heard about last night, with that mugger. Terrible experience for you.”
“Thank you, sir. But I’m not here about that.”
“Oh?”
“It’s just…there have been accusations levelled at the Tucker Foundation, as well as yourself in particular, and I was wondering if you had any comments.”
His brow furrowed. “I wasn’t aware that anyone had any complaints about me. As Mayor?”
“Oh, no, sir, nothing like that. But people are wondering about your relationship with Madame Crey, as well as a few other things.”
He laughed. “I’m sure that people will gossip. Public figures tend to take a beating, no matter what they do.”
I nodded. This was certainly true enough.
“Pay it no mind, Mayor. I was merely curious.” I turned to leave, but couldn’t resist one final comment. “Oh, last night…I may have run into a friend of yours.”
The Mayor’s usually jovial face tightened somewhat, and I thought I saw a glimmer of something…dangerous in his eyes.
“Oh? And who might that be?”
“Well,” I took a breath to steady myself. “The unknown Hero who helped me. He was dressed like…well…The Fire Guardian.”

The mayor’s face went from being tanned and ruddy to pale, almost as quickly as he had won the election. “Susan…Jason Tucker is dead. I buried him myself.” He sighed, and shook his head. “This is just some copycat wanting to pretend to be something he isn’t, and will never be.”
“Okay.” I nodded.
“However…if he should contact you, or you should see him in any way…” He reached into his desk, and pulled out what looked like a pager, which he tossed to me. “Just press the button on that, and my private security detail will home in on that signal and…detain him. For questioning.”
I nodded again, thanked the Mayor, and left his office quickly.

As I shut the door, I couldn’t help but wonder…if it was just some copycat, why did the Mayor look so scared? What did he have to hide? And what, if anything, did this stranger know about him?

*

As soon as Susan left the office, Anson picked up a phone, and punched in a number.
“Yes?” The silky voice purred down the line.
“It’s me.”
“Why, Mr Mayor, how good to hear from you. How can I assist you today?”
“It’s Tucker.”
There was a moments pause at the other end of the line.
“I presumed him to be eliminated.”
“So did I.” The Mayor snarled.
“This may interfere with our larger plan.”
“Do you think so?” Anson snapped.
“If he’s alive, he’ll be taken care of.”
“Good.” Mike paused. “There’s one way we can be sure it’s him. There’s a journalist who’s been doing reports on me. I want her followed.”
Although Anson couldn’t see the individual he was speaking to, he could practically hear the smile. “And if she leads us to Tucker?”
“Kill them both.”
“And if not?”
Mike chuckled. “Tucker’s always thought of himself as someone who’ll right wrongs. Put her in danger. The Fire Guardian will follow.”
“And if he doesn’t show up?”
“Kill her anyway. She’s getting too close for comfort.”

Anson put the phone down, and smiled.

*

Miles away, and belowground, SAMI replayed the entire message for me, which he had recorded by hacking into the phone lines.
“And if he doesn’t show up?”
“Kill her anyway. She’s getting too close for comfort.”

I scowled as SAMI re-appeared on the main monitor.
“So, Chief, what do we do now?”

I shrugged. “Mike wants The Fire Guardian to save this girl? Then I will.”
“It’ll be a trap. You just heard it for yourself.”
“I’m not afraid of Mike, or this new guy.” I grabbed my belt, and clipped it on.

“The Fire Guardian’s going to come out of retirement.”