Fire_Guardian_EU

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You can see an example of one of my latest pieces of work by clicking here.

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...I couldn't stop laughing. And at 1:30 in the morning, my neighbours are NOT going to be happy with me. Nice one!

Things are starting to heat up (forgive the pun) and I need a name for this offshoot Splinter group. I'm maybe two chapters awy from finishing, and I'm already planning a sequel. Any suggestions for the group name?

Authorial Interjection

Call me crazy, but it seems I can only write well on this story if I'm doped up to the gills on flu meds. Whilst I don't recommend the misuse of drugs in any way, shape or form, I -do- recommend being ill, for precisely that reason.

Bring on the remix. HEAR ME NOW!


Chapter Ten: Re-write

The room exploded into action. Heroes all over were getting the civilians to safety. I watched with slight fear as one of the Heroes shepherded the Mayor and Emily to safety, Emily looking at me with concern in her eyes. Looking around for Sammy, I could still see no trace of him, but I hoped he was safe, where-ever he was.

The other heroes had instinctively formed a protecting cordon around me. Somehow, without knowing who these attackers were, they knew I was the one in danger, and I appreciated their action.

As Corruptor and his cronies landed on the ground, he turned to face me and the other Heroes. “You will all remove yourself from this room,” his grating voice echoed in the stillness. “My concern is with Tucker, not with any of you.”
The heroes didn’t reply, at least, not in words. However, nearly to a man, they all struck the centre of their belts, and were enveloped in their costumes. Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I turned, and saw The Back Alley Brawler grin down at me.
“It’s time you busted out your own costume now, Hero.”
“Are you sure?” I stammered, my enthusiasm for being a part of this group just moments ago, completely forgotten.
He winked down at me. “If you have a battle cry, use it now. It’ll help strike fear into their hearts.”
I shrugged, and said the only thing that came to mind.
“Fiendish Foes of Freedom Fear The Fearsome Firepower Of The Fearless Fire Guardian!” I exclaimed, hitting the belt’s centre button.
Brawler shook his head at me. “Kids today, and their alliteration. It was okay, kid, but you need to make it shorter.”
“Oh?” I shrugged. “What did you have in mind?”
“How about we fight now, and talk about it later?”
I pondered his words. “It’s kind of a lame battle cry.”
“No, I mean, how about we work out your lines later, and right now we take these guys down?”
I smiled sheepishly. “Oh. Right. Gotcha.”

The heroes cleared aside so I could step forward, and, as The Fire Guardian, I pointed at Corruptor. “It’s time you paid for murdering Infern, and Frank, and trying to kill me.”
He nodded. “Let’s see just how powerful you are, Guardian.”

I leapt at him, and, in a strange sense of déjà vu, he kicked me aside. Falling back, I hovered myself into mid air, and completed a backwards somersault, landing on my feet. I fancied I could almost see Corruptor’s smirk as he nodded. “Not bad, Guardian. But let’s see how well you do without your legs.” He levelled his gun at me, but before he could repeat his act of crippling me, I jumped into the air, and forced myself forwards, at an alarming rate. The thought passed through my head, "I’m doing it! I’m actually properly flying!" scant seconds before my head collided with Corruptor’s chest. With a grunt, he hit the ground, and I was upon him, my fists colliding with any part of his body seemed like fair opportunity.

The others who came with Corruptor, I barely heard, yelled, “Kill the hero!” Before they could carry out their act and attack me, however, they had five hundred other Heroes to deal with. The room quickly became a free-for-all, with bullets, arrows, and energy blasts flying overhead. Not that I noticed. Or even cared. No, I was solely concerned with Corruptor, and him with me.
Pushing me off him, Corruptor aimed his gun at me again. I was, however, ready. Squeezing my right hand into a fist, I swung the Fire Sword before it had even finished erupting, and sliced the weapon in half. With Corruptor weaponless, he had no choice but to surrender.

Right?

Launching a kick at me, I dodged away from Corruptor, and upwards, flying away from him at a great speed. Circling back, I produced the gun the Brotherhood had left for me, and shot at his legs, trying to cripple him, as he did me. However, Corruptor jumped out of the way, and grabbed onto one of the rappel lines, climbing quickly away.
“Next time, Fire Guardian, I will kill you!” He yelled as he left.
I hovered in the air, watching him go silently, ignoring everything around me. That was, up until the point when two of the attackers jumped on me, pulling me to the ground. About to fight them off, I realised they were off me as suddenly as they had arrived, and the Brawler, held one in each hand, smirking down at my prone form. “Nice skills, Guardian, but since you brought the mess, you can clean it up. No time for napping.”
Standing, I joined the other heroes in fighting off our assailants, until they were all unconscious, or had escaped into the night.
“Well,” I said, looking around and de-activating my costume. “Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good fight.”
A drew a few tired chuckles, and looked around. “Where are the civilians?”
A man in a red costume, with a quiver on his back, pointed towards a door. “We managed to round them all up to safety in there. I suppose we should get them out.”
“Good thinking, Manticore”, Statesman nodded. He and Manticore opened the door, and the non-powered party guests milled out, looking around at all the damage. The Mayor, in particular, seemed distraught. “My roof!”
“Don’t worry, Mayor,” I tried to comfort her. “I’ll pay to get it repaired. No cost, and no loss of money to the charity.”
She seemed grateful enough, if still shaken, and I went to Emily’s side. “My first battle, and you missed it.”
She smiled at me uncertainly. “Well, you know, I had work. Being the Mayor’s assistant, and all that.” She looked around. “Where’s Sammy? I didn’t see him in the ante-room with us.”
I searched the crowd. “He isn’t here.”
“Then where…?”
Just then, as if summoned by our words, Sammy re-appeared in the doorway. “Oh, man, what happened in here? I go to the toilet, and…this must have been one hell of a party!”

I grinned at him, when a thought occurred to me.

The Corruptor was male. Sammy was male. Both times I had met Corruptor, Sammy was nowhere to be seen. During my recovery, Sammy was by my side nearly constantly, after I had woken up, and Corruptor hadn’t been heard from. Sammy took an unusual interest in my capabilities as The Fire Guardian. And, more importantly, Corruptor knew who I was…had used my nickname, in fact, before it was official news that I, Jason Tucker, was Fire Guardian.

I shook my head. Sammy couldn’t be…could he?

---

Morning came slowly, and with it, the hangover.

I want you to understand that I’m not a heavy drinker. Yes, I will occasionally throw back a few bottles of something cold and fermented, but for the most part, I’m happiest downing Fanta after Fanta. I loves me some Aspartame. On the rare occasion, however, I throw caution to the wind, and drink whiskey, beer, or, as I had done last night, champagne. From glasses which bore the strange name ‘flutes’, to the prerequisite slipper (don’t ask) and even…Lord help me….Emily’s lips.

Which brings us to here and now. And me. In bed. Naked. With Emily.
“Ohhh…” I groaned. I felt a jab in my ribs.
“Shush. Some of us have the day off.” I turned, and Emily smiled at me. “Good morning, Jay. Sleep well?”
I snorted. “I barely got any sleep, as you well know.”
Emily smirks, and slid her body, so it was pressing up against me. “Yeah, but it was worth it.” She kissed my shoulder lightly, and touched my ears. “Do they still hurt?”
“Hmm? Oh, no. The grafts are fine, now. I don’t notice them.”
“Good.” Her hand slid lower, and drummed a light tattoo on my abs. “You seemed pretty pre-occupied after that fight. What did Corruptor say to you?”
“Oh, nothing. Not really. It’s just…I have some things on my mind.”
“Yeah, I noticed that last night.” She smirked, and kissed me gently on the lips. “Did you have anyone in mind when you were doing your…thinking?”
I shrugged. “Sammy.”
The hand on my abs, which was keeping a rather spry and upbeat tempo, withdrew. “Excuse me?”
“I said, I was thinking about Sammy.”
“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose at me, which I found quite adorable. “And why, pray tell, during one of the most…athletic encounters of your life, were you thinking about Samuel Edwards?”
She had lost me. “What? Ohh….no! Not when we were…”
“Good.”
“No, that was all about you. It’s just…do you think Sammy’s acting odd?”
“I hadn’t noticed.”

Of course she hadn’t. Emily had been living here in Paragon for a while, whereas I had Sammy up in my face, day in and day out, since before she left.

“Em…I’ve been thinking about Corruptor.”
“Oh, goody.” She sighed, and slipped away. “First Sammy, then your arch-foe. Do I feature in there at all?”
“ ‘Arch foe’?” I repeated. “Yeah, I suppose I do have an arch-foe. Cool. But, Em, listen: what if Corruptor is someone I know?”
She looked confused. “What do you mean?”

I relayed my thoughts from after the fight to her, and she listened, not saying anything, barely moving.
“So, he called you ‘Jay’ the first time you fought him?”
“It was barely a fight. He nearly killed me, and I didn’t touch him.”
“Aww.” She mock pouted. “Do you want me to protect my big, strong Superhero?”
I grinned at her. “He wouldn’t stand a chance.” I pushed the covers away, and stared, unashamedly, at her body. “You’ve been working out.”
She shrugged. “I want to look good.”
“It’s more than looking good. Last night was….unbelievable.” It was my turn to caress her stomach, which was flat, taut, and toned.
“For me, too.” She grinned at me, and it reminded me of nothing so much as a cat stalking it’s prey. “Care to go again?”

Oh, yes.

***

After our most recent encounter, and after we had showered (separately, so don’t get to thinking we were at it like rabbits) and dressed, Emily wrapped her arms around me, and hugged me tightly.
“Last night was amazing.”
I nodded. “We should do it more often.”
He eyes sparkled with humour. “What did you have in mind, Jay?”
“Well, it’s too soon for marriage. But maybe, when all this is over, we can find an apartment somewhere in Paragon?”
She nodded. “It sounds like a good plan. We’ll talk about it more when things are over, though, as you say.” She brushed some imaginary dirt from my shoulders, and grinned at me. “You look good.”
I turned, and examined myself in the mirror. Wearing a tight red t-shirt, black trousers, and a black jacket with the collar turned up, she was right. I did look good. Of course, the post-coital buzz was probably stopping me from thinking straight, as I couldn’t help but think that I didn’t look anywhere near as good as I could have, without her by my side.

My phone rang, breaking me from my reverie. Shrugging a sheepish apology Em’s way, I opened it.
“Tucker.” I barked.
“Dude,” Sammy’s voice filtered through. “Where were you last night?”
“Hang on.” I cupped a hand over the mouthpiece, and turned to Emily. “It’s Sammy.”
“Oh, good, ask him if he’s Corruptor.”
I stared at her calm and serious expression.
“I’m not alone here, Sam. What’s up?”
“Dude, you finally got some?” Sammy chuckled. “Hey, listen, I found something out. Can you meet me in Atlas Park at noon?”
What?
“Sammy, what’re you talking about? ‘Meet me in Atlas Park’?”
“And come alone.”
Sammy sounded…cold on the phone. Completely unlike himself.
“Sammy, seriously, stop pretending you’re a spy. What’s going on?”
“I mean it, man. Come to Atlas Park, by yourself, at noon. If you’re not alone, you won’t see me.”
“Sammy…” I sighed.
“Goodbye, Jay.” He hung up.

Goodbye, Jay. A perfectly normal way of ending a conversation. So why did it make me shiver?

Emily noticed, and looked at me askance. “What is it?”
“It’s Sammy. He wants me to meet him, alone, at noon.”
“So? He probably just wants to boast about some girl he was dancing with.”
“No, he wasn’t….he wasn’t himself. He was cold. Detached. And he said ‘goodbye Jay’ to me.”
“What did you expect him to….oh, wait. Isn’t that what Corruptor said to you?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“Well,” Emily continued, in ‘business mode’, “Since it’s Christmas day, and a lot of the Brotherhood’s operatives can’t be reached, I’ll go myself and find out what’s going on.”
“What?”
“Look, Jay, if Sammy’s somehow fallen in with the splinter group, he could be in danger. And you certainly will be.”
“But…”
She moved away, and glared at me. “Don’t get all protective on me, Jason Tucker. Just because I’m sharing a bed with you doesn’t mean you can run my life!”
I stared. She sighed, and continued in a softer tone. “I know what I’m doing. This is my job, and I can take care of myself.” As if I wouldn’t believe her, she struck a pose and flexed for me. Somehow, I found this leaving her looking more vulnerable than anything else.
“I’ll be fine.” She got up on tiptoes, and kissed my nose. “If not, I know how to reach you.”
I nodded. “Make sure you do.”
Emily nodded back, and went to the door. Looking back at me briefly, she winked and exited. “Don’t worry. I’ll be perfectly okay. I mean, it’s just Sammy, right?”

I watched her leave silently, wishing I had told her I loved her. It occurred to me, all alone in the silence of her apartment building that those words had never passed my lips since she came back into my life, and I wish to hell I had said it at least once.

And, for good reason. If I had, maybe something would have turned out differently. As it was, however, I never said it, and I would never get the chance to.

I never saw Emily Campbell, the love of my life, ever again.

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How is a hero who wants to destroy Arachnos and bring about a benevolent reigeme change in the rogue isles different from a Villain who wants to destroy Arachnos and rule the isles for himself?

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Well, that's the very crux of the matter. To summarise the on-topic posts that were made, and deleted for reasons we shan't go into (because it's pointless rehashing) is that the actions themselves don't matter, as much as the reasoning behind them. Let's say, for example, I give you £100,000, cash in hand, no questions asked.

"Okay" you might say, "Great, FG's a cool guy, I loves me some bling." However, if my reasoning behind that is that I just robbed a bank and wanted to frame you for it, my actions mean absolutely squat next to my intent.

Actually, that's a gross oversimplification of the matter at hand. Let's use, for example...

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An example I think of of a "dark hero" in COV is the snake hunter guy you meet in mercy island, ok he may be doing it for money but he is making the streets of mercy island safe for all the inhabitants by exterminating the eeeevil snakes.

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Now, I don't play CoV. I have it, sure, but that's only for the Supergroup Base access, and in case one day I want to break open a villain to see what's what. I am, incidentally, planning a villain based on my currently stalled story in the creative section (Gratuitous Plug! Read 'Into The Inferno'! ) but other than that, I have no clue as to what's what. I'm guessing, from your description, that this Snake Hunter is a mercenary, or a bounty hunter. Or maybe he earns a special NPC-only badge, who knows? However, although this guy is actually the reverse of my previous analogy, it still holds true. He's collecting (or sending people off to kill?) snakes for money. He may, indeed, be making the Rogue Isles safer for the citizens, but that's just a by-product. His goal, first and foremost, is to earn money. If he could earn more money, safely, by killing the citizens of the Rogue Isles, his character would probably do that. The main thing, in my mind, that seperates Heroes from Villains is that Heroes want to provide X. Let's say that X is, for this example, a safe environment (going back to your Snake Hunter guy). Villains may also want X. Heroes, however, care about how they get to it, whereas Villains will do whatever it takes, no matter the cost. Another thing to bear in mind is that Villains may not actually WANT X, they, instead, want Y, and X is just something that happens along the way. It's a fine line, and that's why, I think, playing a Fallen Hero is such an attractive prospect.

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One issue that has been brought up is that when other characters find out the "hero" character would be killed, but considering the isles are full of constant infighting even within arachnos itself, how would this be worse or different than characters of different groups encountering each other?

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This depends on how the "Hero" dies. Will they die pursuing their goal? Or saving the life of their companions? Syra mentioned, in one of her deleted posts, that one noble act doesn't change all the bad things someone has done in their life, and from an objective viewpoint, that is certainly true. However, subjectively, it could. Let's say, going back to my original example, that I robbed a bank, and ended up killing a security guard or two in the process. I'm now guilty of double homicide and grand theft. If I give my money to a charity, whilst that doesn't make the act of theft and murder 'right', the charity, assuming they didn't find out how I got the money, would think of me as a 'good person'.

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There exists another possibility for a character of "noble" virtues, a dedicated medic/healer who exists to make people whole and well no matter their alignment, sure they might be causing more harm by keeping scum alive but they are still doing good surely?

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Doctors are sworn, first and foremost, to 'do no harm', as part of their Hippocratic Oath. I'm not going to get into a debate into what constitutes 'harm', and whether abortions, euthenasia, etc, should be included, because for starters, that isn't in the scope of this discussion, and secondly, because everyone feels differently about these things, and they can, and will, bring about a whole flurry of incensed approaches. Nobody wants a flame war going on about a relatively harmless, if tricky, debate. The problems with playing a healer who took care of 'everyone', no matter what alignment they belonged to, would be that in CoV, no matter what type you want to play, and what sort of character you were role-playing, you wouldn't be able to complete the mission if you healed absolutely everyone. On CoH missions where you have to eliminate all Mobs, for instance, you couldn't do that if there was someone in the background healing them all after you died. A truly neutral character can't exist in the black and white world of CoX, for no matter how many shades of grey you want your character to percieve, you can only see in the shades that allow you to progress through the game, which for CoH would be shades of white, and CoV, shades of black.

Talking of fallen heroes and anti-heroes, if you'd like some more ideas on how a character would 'feel' through certain things, such as the slippery slope down to rationalising evil acts with a good intent, I would highly recommend you to read Mario Puzo's 'The Godfather', and, to a lesser extent, Mark Winegardner's 'The Godfather Returns'. Something the movie touches on briefly, but the novels focuse on, is that Michael Corleone starts off wanting to provide for his wife, Kay, and his children. However, whilst still clutching onto the rational that it's "all for them", he loses them, and he's too wrapped up in his bad acts and why he's really doing them to notice.

That, to my mind, makes Michael Corlerone a perfect example of the character you wish to play.

I liked it. Contrary to your belief that it's too long, I did find it lacking. Don't get me wrong, you've got a tight story there, but I would have enjoyed some history on Force's team, too.

All in all, an enjoyable piece, and definately one where you can feel the tension during the present-time frame, set against the narrative of the flashbacks. I just wish there would have been more of it.

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Oh bother, my second long post about Ethical Language got removed as well

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Ah, but although your post was certainly insightful and informative, I'm glad we're rid of that whole section. I mean, I wrote a post or two I was particularly proud of which got deleted, but if it means we can continue with our lives and forget about everything that went on in those pages, so much the better. I, for one, would much rather miss out on a couple of good posts and forget the slanderous posts, than have to subject myself to reading them, just to find one or two insightful ones.

Besides, you can always post again.

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CoX: Making You Not Dumb(tm).

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I prefer "CoX: We're not Matrix Online"

Which pretty much says the same thing.

Chapter Ten

The room exploded into action. Heroes all over were getting the civilians to safety. I watched with slight fear as one of the Heroes shepherded the Mayor and Emily to safety, Emily looking at me with concern in her eyes. Looking around for Sammy, I could still see no trace of him, but I hoped he was safe, where-ever he was.

The other heroes had instinctively formed a protecting cordon around me. Somehow, without knowing who these attackers were, they knew I was the one in danger, and I appreciated their action.

As Corruptor and his cronies landed on the ground, he turned to face me and the other Heroes. “You will all remove yourself from this room,” his grating voice echoed in the stillness. “My concern is with Tucker, not with any of you.”
The heroes didn’t reply, at least, not in words. However, nearly to a man, they all struck the centre of their belts, and were enveloped in their costumes. Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I turned, and saw The Back Alley Brawler grin down at me.
“It’s time you busted out your own costume now, Hero.”
“Are you sure?” I stammered, my enthusiasm for being a part of this group just moments ago, completely forgotten.
He winked down at me. “If you have a battle cry, use it now. It’ll help strike fear into their hearts.”
I shrugged, and said the only thing that came to mind.
“It’s Morphin’ Time!” I exclaimed, hitting my belt.
As the forcefield surrounded me, I heard Brawler sigh. “The new ones always say that their first time.”

The heroes cleared aside so I could step forward, and, as The Fire Guardian, I pointed at Corruptor. “It’s time you paid for murdering Infern, and Frank, and trying to kill me.”
He nodded. “Let’s see just how powerful you are, Guardian.”

I leapt at him, and, in a strange sense of déjà vu, he kicked me aside. Falling back, I hovered myself into mid air, and completed a backwards somersault, landing on my feet. I fancied I could almost see Corruptor’s smirk as he nodded. “Not bad, Guardian. But let’s see how well you do without your legs.” He levelled his gun at me, but before he could repeat his act of crippling me, I jumped into the air, and forced myself forwards, at an alarming rate. The thought passed through my head, I’m doing it! I’m actually properly flying! scant seconds before my head collided with Corruptor’s chest. With a grunt, he hit the ground, and I was upon him, my fists colliding with any part of his body seemed like fair opportunity.

The others who came with Corruptor, I barely heard, yelled, “Kill the hero!” Before they could carry out their act and attack me, however, they had five hundred other Heroes to deal with. The room quickly became a free-for-all, with bullets, arrows, and energy blasts flying overhead. Not that I noticed. Or even cared. No, I was solely concerned with Corruptor, and him with me.
Pushing me off him, Corruptor aimed his gun at me again. I was, however, ready. Squeezing my right hand into a fist, I swung the Fire Sword before it had even finished erupting, and sliced the weapon in half. With Corruptor weaponless, he had no choice but to surrender.

Right?

Launching a kick at me, I dodged away, and upwards, flying away from him at a great speed. Circling back, I produced the gun the Brotherhood had left for me, and shot at his legs, trying to cripple him, as he did me. However, Corruptor jumped out of the way, and grabbed onto one of the rappel lines, climbing quickly away.
“Next time, Fire Guardian, I will kill you!” He yelled as he left.

I hovered in the air, watching him go silently, ignoring everything around me. That was, up until the point when two of the attackers jumped on me, pulling me to the ground. About to fight them off, I realised they were off me as suddenly as they had arrived, and the Brawler, held one in each hand, smirking down at my prone form. “Nice skills, Guardian, but since you brought the mess, you can clean it up. No time for napping.”
Standing, I joined the other heroes in fighting off our assailants, until they were all unconscious, or had escaped into the night.
“Well,” I said, looking around and de-activating my costume. “Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good fight.”
A drew a few tired chuckles, and looked around. “Where are the civilians?”
A man in a red costume, with a quiver on his back, pointed towards a door. “We managed to round them all up to safety in there. I suppose we should get them out.”
“Good thinking, Manticore”, Statesman nodded. He and Manticore opened the door, and the non-powered party guests milled out, looking around at all the damage. The Mayor, in particular, seemed distraught. “My roof!”
“Don’t worry, Mayor,” I tried to comfort her. “I’ll pay to get it repaired. No cost, and no loss of money to the charity.”
She seemed grateful enough, if still shaken, and I went to Emily’s side. “My first battle, and you missed it.”
She smiled at me uncertainly. “Well, you know, I had work. Being the Mayor’s assistant, and all that.” She looked around. “Where’s Sammy? I didn’t see him in the ante-room with us.”
I searched the crowd. “He isn’t here.”
“Then where…?”
Just then, as if summoned by our words, Sammy re-appeared in the doorway. “Oh, man, what happened in here? I go to the toilet, and…this must have been one hell of a party!”

I grinned at him, when a thought occurred to me.

The Corruptor was male. Sammy was male. Sammy was never around with Corruptor was. Both times I had met Corruptor, Sammy was nowhere to be seen. During my recovery, Sammy was by my side nearly constantly, after I had woken up, and Corruptor hadn’t been heard from. Sammy took an unusual interest in my capabilities as The Fire Guardian. And, more importantly, Corruptor knew who I was…had used my nickname, in fact, before it was official news that I, Jason Tucker, was Fire Guardian.


I shook my head. Sammy couldn’t be…could he?


---

Authorial Interjection: Due to...other events on the forum, I didn't put 100% into this chapter. Without naming names, or events, a posting happened that got me so...furious...that I found I didn't have the heart to finish this chapter. There was going to be a lot more, and it'll be covered at a later date, but, for now, I need to take a step aside and calm myself down. I apologise for the abruptness to the ending, but I had to finish at the earliest point I could, before I started getting angrier. It takes a lot to set me off, as I'm a very easy going person, but, in this instance, I believe I was justified, and didn't want the story to suffer. The closed-mindedness I ran into shall remain nameless and faceless, as I have said. I'm not going to use this story as a personal weapon as a way to attack detractors, or to critisize a mindset I'm all too familiar with...the elitism of a few and all that, and I find that's what I want to do. I don't want to sink down to their level, and I want my story to be free of personal malice, but at this moment in time, I cannot achieve that. Comments and suggestions are, as always, welcome and appreciated. Everybody take care, thanks for reading, and thank you for your PMs regarding this story, which have been nothing but positive.

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One good intention doesn't excuse evil methods and a barbaric approach. He recruits psychopaths and sadists that are shown to enjoy cutting up innocents; as evidenced in a great deal of their dialogue, and a number of missions.

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Yes, but from Vahzilok's point of view, misguided as it may be, he has a job to get done; i.e saving mankind from death. If you had set yourself a task, and you needed help, would you refuse it from someone who's willing to help you, no matter what they do in their lives?

Vahzilok is working to provide a service which, in his mind, will better humanity. Not to excuse his actions behind a tired cliche, but "you can't make omlettes without breaking eggs". With any sort of experiment, whether medical, scientific, or sociological, there will be mistakes. Vahz probably sees it, more than anything else, as trial and error. Does he commit crimes in the world of Co*? Absolutely. However, are his actions 'evil'? As Zortel correctly pointed out, good and evil are subjective. The cel groups of Al-Qaeda aren't evil to themselves, as they believe they are performing a righteous act. We, however, (and hopefully I include everyone on this forum in this 'we') believe what they are doing is wrong. Killing is a horrendous crime, the worst imaginable, for any reason, and to excuse it behind biblical acts, medical tests, or anthing else is the result of a deluded mind preying on the masses for their own gain.

However, the acts themselves, whilst inherently evil, can, more often than not, be excused away in the perpetrator's own mind, whether they be sane or not.

Chapter Nine

It was such a nice day, I decided to walk to the tailors.

It isn’t such a nice stroll as you might think, though. Deciding to forego the monorail system, I had to get to the industrial area of Steel Canyon, where the tailor had his shop, by cutting through a place called Perez Park. Believe me when I say, it wasn’t a totally pleasant experience. Luckily, I had gotten rather fast on my new feet, and evaded a lot of the gangs.

Superhero in training I might be, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid.

It was actually, I’d like to note, by first day outside the hospital. With Dr Wilks finding it increasingly difficult to find reasons to keep me inside, I had been given a clean bill of health, and discharged. Whilst part of me missed lying around doing nothing, I was glad to feel the slight breeze blow fresh air on my face, to hear the laughter of children…to look at all the Superheroines in their tight clothing. Okay, so I maybe have been channelling Sammy with that last one, but there’s nothing like looking at beautiful people to make you appreciate freedom, and life in general.

Upon reaching the tailors, I strode inside, and was immediately approached by a balding man, who shook my hand.
“You muzzt be Ze Fire Guardien.” He intoned with a horrendously fake French accent. “I ‘ave been expecting you.”
“Uhm…Fire Guardian. That’s right.” I looked around – the tailor’s was pretty crowded for some reason, and I didn’t particularly want people to know what I really looked like.
The tailor seemed to sense my unease, as he followed my gaze. “Ah, do not worry yourself. Zese people, zey are all ‘Eeroes too, no? Zey do not care ‘oo you are.”
I couldn’t help myself. Really. “Ah, but ze gulls follow ze trawlers to get ze fishes, may oui? Ohh, hoo hoo hoo.” I finished my fake accent in a terrible, stereotypical French laugh.
“Ah, Meester Tucker, you zink you are all zat….but you are not.”

---

Choosing the correct costume for myself was a pig. I mean, it was a horrible process. For starters, I went into their ‘dressing room’, expecting to find a large selection of clothes, but instead, I was told to strip down, and after I had, I’d gotten probed, prodded, scanned and analysed by a large bank of sensors.
After putting my clothes back on, I exited the room, to find the tailor (I never learned his name, but mentally called him Pierre) waiting for me, a large PDA like device in front of him.
“Now, Meester Tucker, we do zis,” Pierre pressed a button, and a holographic display of my naked body sprung to life in front of us.
“Zut Alors!” Pierre exclaimed, a bit too loudly for my tastes. “You were supposed to leave your underwear on!”

Various catcalls from female Heroes in the tailors punctuated this, until Pierre pressed a button, and my holographic lower half was covered up by a pair of black trousers.
“Next tahme…we do another scan, no?”
“Good idea.” I blushed. “Now, what can you show me?”

---

“How’s zis?” Pierre asked, for what seemed to be (and this is only a minor exaggeration on my part) the millionth time.
“No. It’s all wrong.”
“And what, exactly, is wrong wiz zis one?”
Where to begin?

Pierre had taken a liking to the ‘fire’ aspect of my name, and had loaded up a hooded robe, all bright orange, with red flames on the arms.

“It’s just not…me. Plus, it doesn’t seem to provide enough protection.”
“All our costumes are of ze highest quality, monsier. One will protect ze same as ze other.”
Now that was something I didn’t get. Apparently, all the ‘costumes’ were, in fact, holographic representations of real clothes, that projected itself onto my body. Apparently, if I wore next to nothing, it would be the same as wearing a medieval suit of armour. The real protection came in the form of a forcefield, projected by the same unit that projected my costume, which was the same shape as the clothing that I chose to ‘wear’. The only part of my costume that would, in fact, be ‘real’ would be my right glove, which had the fire sword’s base unit sewn into it…but that, also, could be contained as part of the costume’s holographs, by means of utilising what Pierre called a ‘zero pocket Z-Space’….something. It was getting a bit too….technobabble ish for my liking. I got even more confused when Pierre told me that the forcefield, and thus the costume, could provide me with any shape I wanted, as long as it was more than my original dimensions. If I wanted to look taller, more muscular, even grotesquely fat, it could all be done, and nobody would know any different. Hell, I could look like a woman, if I so chose, but I decided against that.
Sammy would never leave me alone.

“Well, how about something darker? How about….” I flicked through the costume selection. “This flak jacket, in dark grey, with the same red flames?” I made an adjustment, and the chosen selection came up.
“Hmm. Not bad, Meester Tucker. You ‘ave missed your calling, no?”
“No.”

It wasn’t bad, in fact. Not bad at all. In fact, it was getting there quite nicely. In fact, soon after I had the chest piece down, everything else fell into place.

Soon, it was joined by a red cloth mask, a dark grey helmet with a large chin guard, and yellow lab goggles. Soon afterwards came the black and red shoulder pads, and the lower part of my body would look like armour plated cyborg legs. Soon, I had nearly everything I wanted. Only one thing was missing.

“No. Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on! Why can’t I wear a cape?”
“It has been…’ow you say…forbidden. Only ‘Eero’s ‘oo ‘av passed ze test can wear ze capes.” I tried to muddle through the fake accent, and figured out what Pierre had said.
“Well, how do I pass the test?”
“You are not ready yet. Give it time, and when you are more powerful, you will be able to take ze test.”
I sighed. Pierre was unmoving about it. He tried to change the subject.
“I understand from your contact, zat you wish to ‘av an emblem put on the uniform somewhere?”
The Emblem. Of course, I had forgotten.
“Yes. It’s…this one.” I showed him a graphical representation of the Emblem of The Truth of The Flame.
“Ah, zis will be easy. Where would you like eet, and what colours?”
I thought about it, and what I knew about the two Heroes that had come before me. One wore it on his lapel, the other on her gloves. All very well and good, for them, when the Brotherhood wished to remain anonymous, hidden from their splinter group. However, times changed. If there was going to be a new Hero working with the Brotherhood, I wanted their icon to be in a nice, easy viewed area, a not so subtle finger up at their darker faction. Jason Tucker had survived, I wanted it to tell them, and Corruptor in particular. And now he’s your worst nightmare.

“Red and yellow. Put it on the chest.” I turned to Pierre. “And make it big.”

When it was ready, Pierre pressed a few buttons, went behind a desk, and came out with a metallic yellow belt, with a glowing red disk in the middle. “’Ere you go, Meester Tucker…or should I say, Fire Guardien?”
“Guardian,” I corrected, “And what exactly is…this?”
“Zis is your costume.”
Pierre once again launched into his litany about forcefields, and Zero-Space-Pocket whatever-the-hell’s. I cut him off. “So, this belt is all I have to wear?”
“Yes. Just press the red disk when you wish to put on ze costume.”
I attached the belt, and hit the middle disk. With a brief flash of light, I saw…absolutely nothing. Nothing had changed. I didn’t feel any different. Pierre, however, was grinning.
“Absolutely masterful. My best ever work!”
Frowning, I looked down at my arms.

They were encased in dark grey armour, and had red flames up the side. Just like I had asked for. Hovering over to a mirror (well, why not? Useless as I found it, it was my first time in costume) I took myself in, and, I had to admit, I was impressed. Touching my chest with my hands, I noticed that, yes, I couldn’t actually touch my clothing underneath the ‘costume’, which meant that the forcefield was working fine. Also, my right glove had something sewn into it.
Squeezing my right hand into a fist, I couldn’t stop myself grinning when the Fire Sword erupted.

A few heroes around me clapped enthusiastically, and one approached me.
“Nice costume, mate. What’s your name?”
There was only one answer that seemed appropriate. “I’m The Fire Guardian.”
“Well, Fire Guardian, tight costume.” He held out his hand. “I’m Deaths Head. Maybe we can team together sometime?”
I nodded. “Sure.” I cocked my head slightly. My voice didn’t sound like my own. Something about the costume gave it a more metallic, distorted noise.
Deaths Head made his way into the dressing room, and I turned off the costume. Turning to Pierre, I smiled.
“Will zat be all?”
“No, I need something else.”
“And what would zat be, Mr Guardien?”
“I need a tuxedo.”

---

The limo approached the Mayors Mansion slowly, as I looked over to my right, at Emily. “You look good.” And indeed, she did. The years apart had seen Emily, who always had a nice figure anyway, slim down and tone up some. Probably in unconscious response to seeing all the lithe Superheroines getting all the men. She wore a long blue gown that glittered with the light, and it worked well with her pale complexion, blue eyes, and black hair. “Thanks,” she smiled. “So do you.”

As it turns out, the costume was free. Every new hero gets their first costume for nothing – the tux, on the other hand, cost a bundle. The tailor shop dealt exclusively in holographic clothing, which meant they had to get a tux from another store, and fit it to me. Unless, of course, I wanted to replace my Fire Guardian costume with a tuxedo, for one night. I had briefly considered it, but when Pierre told me it would cost a pointless amount of money to change the clothes for one event, then change back, I refused. Rich I may have been, but I took some pride in never losing my head with cash.

As the midnight blue stretch limo, complete with mini-bar, hot tub, and cable TV (All Sammy’s ideas, I assure you) pulled up near the doors, another voice practically whined at me and Emily. “What about me? Don’t I look hot?”
Emily and I both turned to stare at Sammy, who was wearing jeans, and a t-shirt with a bow tie printed on it.
“What?” Sammy protested.
“I can honestly say I’ve never seen you look more smart, Sammy.” Emily nodded sagely .
“Really?” He seemed pleased. “After all, there’ll be a lot of hot superheroes here. I want to look my best.”
As soon as Sammy said ‘Superheroes’, I reached for my belt, and examined it. I don’t know why I had worn it tonight…after all, nobody would be stupid enough to attack the Christmas ball, with all the big names in Superherodom in attendance. And me. The newbie. The ineffective guy who couldn’t even fly properly, and whose one real ‘power’ involved looking at people’s skeletons.
Emily took my hand, and rubbed it gently as we got out, and onto the red carpet. As soon as our feet hit the ground, we were mobbed by reporters. Paragon City Fashion Network cameras, next to CNN, BBC, Fox, MSNBC…it was certainly going to be given press
“And this is the Mayoral Aide, Emily Campbell, accompanied by…by…”
Emily smiled at me evilly. “This is Jason Tucker, the owner of The Tucker Foundation, as well as the newest Superhero on the block, going by the name Fire Guardian.”
I was stunned that Emily had mentioned I was the Fire Guardian, on worldwide TV, in front of billions of people. The press, however, seemed more taken back that I had been outed as…
Oh, hell. Well, there goes the secret.
“Mr Tucker! Mr Tucker! Why are you suddenly coming forwards as the Wordwide Lottery winner? Is it…”
“What does this…”
“How do…”
“Where…”
“When did…”
“Are you here…”

Barraged by question, I turned to Sammy. “Sammy!” I hissed. “Distraction.”
“On it.” Sammy nodded, having started taking to calling himself my ‘sidekick’, and taking his self-imposed role very seriously. He jumped in front of me and Emily, and yelled. “Wait!”
The reporters were stunned into silence, waiting to see and hear what Sammy would do. I wasn’t totally surprised when he went into a intricate breakdance routine, leaving reporters staring, and allowed myself and Emily into the mansion without further incident.
Emily turned back to watch him. “What on earth is he doing?”
Without looking back, I shrugged. “The Robot.”

---

The main ballroom was filled with people in elegant gowns, and sharp suits, and I guessed, by looking at all the belts that were just like mine, that the majority of the people in the room were fellow Heroes. Emily and I went straight to the bar, and got two glasses of champagne.
“Why did you do that?” I asked her. She wrinkled her forehead in confusion.
“What do you mean? That I mentioned you were the owner of the Foundation, or that I told everyone you were the Fire Guardian?”
“Both.”
“Oh, Jay, don’t be so naive.” She chuckled. “As soon as you started fighting crime, people would want to know who you were. No secret identity is really secret, not here, and sooner or later, you would have been found out.”
“But, still…”
She sighed. “If I’d have known it would bother you that much, I wouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry, okay?”
I could never stay mad at her, no matter how much I tried. “Okay. Shall we dance?”
She grinned. “I thought you’d never ask. But…uh…leave the Fire Sword at the door, okay cowboy? This is just about you…and me…” And, so saying, she took me by the hand, and led me to the dance-floor.

---

It was nearly midnight. Nearly Christmas Day, and the party was showing no signs of slowing down. I glanced over to where Sammy was dancing with a redheaded Heroine, who seemed quite impressed with his ‘distraction’ from earlier, which I had found out had been broadcast on televisions throughout the mansion, including one or two by the bar.
It meant no end of dance interruptions for me, as Hero after Hero patted me on the back, to thank me for everything the Foundation had done to help out in Paragon, and quite a few…I realised I was starting to think of them as ‘civilians’, approached me, to meet the latest Hero in the city, or to tell me about how The Foundation had touched them. It was the first time I had ever been the centre of attention, and it’s no exaggeration to say I was the centre of it. Men watched Emily dance, and looked at me jealously, and the women wanted to know how Emily had ‘bagged’ herself a multi-billionaire philanthropist, as well as a Superhero. I was really quite flattered when a few heroines gave me their phone numbers, and made the discreet decision to not tell Emily about it.

At five minutes to, the Mayor got up in front of the band, and asked them to wind down their song. When they did so, she got in front of a microphone, and spoke.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to thank you all for coming to this Christmas ball.” Applause. I’ve never understood, and I probably never will, the need some people have to applaud themselves. It seems very…needy. A self-congratulatory gesture which stinks of ego.
“As you all know, the cost of the tickets for tonight’s ball are going to a very worthwhile charity,”
Tickets? I was confused. Nobody had told me anything about tickets. I was about to whisper to Emily, when I noticed the Mayor was looking directly at me, and smiling. “Although this young man has, for a long time, wished to remain anonymous, earlier events gave us all a face, and a name, to the owner and founder of the charity in question tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome up here the creator of The Tucker Foundation, Jason Temple-Tucker!”

I turned to Emily, and noticed she had an insanely evil look of glee on her face. “You knew about this!” I accused her.
“Of course. Go up there and make a speech.”
“I…don’t have anything prepared.”
“Big baby.” Emily practically dragged me up to the stage amidst laughter from the others in attendance. I turned, and saw a man I instantly recognised as The Back Alley Brawler, laughing harder than anyone else. Nearby, even Statesman, in full costume as ever, had a slight smile on his normally saturnine face.
I approached the lectern, and the Mayor kissed me on the cheek, before whispering, “This was all Emily’s idea. We all know you’re the Guardian, but don’t mention the Brotherhood. Please.”
“Okay,” I whispered back, before facing my audience.

Well over 500 Superheroes, who had faced down thugs, muggers, genetic mutations, zombies, and Rikti stared up at me expectantly.
“Uhm…hi, everyone.” I began nervously. “I wish I had known about this beforehand, so I could have made other arrangements. I understand getting ambushed by fifty Trolls in The Hollows is a nice alternative to public speaking.”
They roared with laughter, and I heard a voice ring out, “Too true, too true!” I tried to hide my smirk, as Sammy had never even seen a troll. Glad I had won the audience over, I continued.
“People have praised the work of The Tucker Foundation for all that it’s done, and I’m truly happy that it’s managed to touch so many lives in a positive way. However, what nobody should forget, is that it’s you, the men and women of Paragon City, the defenders of the people, that do a lot of the work.
“It was you who stopped the Rikti threat. It was you who risked your lives to protect people, like myself. Although I had no idea I would be speaking here, I’d like to ask each of you, now, to take a moment to remember those who couldn’t be here tonight. I ask you to observe a moment’s silence to remember your…our…fallen comrades.”

Silence fell over the hall, and, I like to imagine, the world, as everyone within earshot, whether in the hall or from TV, bowed their heads. I continued in a hoarse whisper. “We shall never forgetten all they have done for us, and all they have achieved. This world will forever be a better place, because of their legacy.”

After a respectful silence, everyone looked back up at me. Although they were no longer laughing, I saw something in their eyes I hadn’t before. Respect, and a sense of welcoming. Through my actions of asking for remembrance of the fallen heroes, I had shown the proper respect for their friends and allies, I felt like I was now one of them. I took note of the time, and pushed onwards.

“Tonight, you’ve given money to a worthy cause. I make it my pledge to you all that, as of today, Christmas day, that no more children will go hungry because they’ve lost their parents. No other people will have to resort to joining street gangs for shelter, or robbing people for money. Today, we take a stand together, as one people, no matter where we are, and say that we will win the war against our darker halves, and everyone will be free!”

The room erupted in cheers and applause. I smiled down at Emily, who winked up at me. I looked around for Sammy, but he had been lost in the sea of faces, and I couldn’t spot him anywhere. My eyes drifted down to one lone figure in a red and blue costume, arms crossed.

Statesman met my eyes, and nodded solemnly.

Welcome, He seemed to say. You are truly a Superhero.

I was content to let the applause go on, to bask in the glow of my peers. However, when the room started to shake, the applause and cheering quickly died down. Before anybody could place the source of the shaking, we soon found it, as the ceiling opened up, and men in black armour rappelled down, weapons blazing.

Corruptor had found me.

Quite, quite disgusting. Hilarious, but disgusting. As averse as I am to any displays of animal cruelty, I feel I must lodge my revulsion, but...

It was just too damn funny.

Chapter Eight

It was closer to two days, than ‘tomorrow’, but I had to give Emily points for near-accuracy. Punctuality and telling time had never been her strong point.

When they wheeled my legs in so I could get a look at them (and, for the record, a more bizarre phrase I have never used in my life) I was quite…underwhelmed. After my meeting with Emily, and telling her I wanted ‘flying’ legs, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Metal, definitely. Some composite alloy, all shiny and tough. Maybe skeletal, like in The Terminator. With rockets on the heels. At the very least, tiny wings by the ankles. Was that too much to ask for.

Instead, my new legs were..well…leg like.
Doctor Wilks, however, was overflowing with enthusiasm. “Mr Tucker, wait until you try these beauties out!”
“They’re…legs.”
“Yes, they are.” Wilks blinked. “What did you expect, some skeletal hyper-alloy, like in a bad science fiction movie?”
Well… “No, not at all. But these seem so…regular.”
“Well, they are. Feel them! Feel them!”
Sitting up as best I could, I grasped one of the legs, and let go just as quickly.
“They’re…real.”
“No, the outside is covered in a synthetic flesh. The same material as your skin grafts. When they’re attached, nobody will be able to tell them apart from the real thing. They’ll tan, burn, even bleed! Although,” he added, as an afterthought, “You don’t want these to bleed. At least, not in public.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
“Well, these legs have some modifications that are powered by a semi-organic battery. I’ve been led to understand you’ve been briefed?”
I nodded. It was a brief…well...briefing.
“The circulatory ‘blood’ that flows through these veins aren’t red. Although, if you wanted to, we could find a way to colour them. As it is, however, if these legs get cut, they’ll bleed…well…”
“Spit it out, Doc!”
“Green.”
I blinked.
“I’ll bleed green?”
“Only in your lower legs, I assure you. The only real difficulty will be attaching them.”
“Why?”
Wilks sighed. “Jason, you have to understand that you were nearly burned to death by a flamethrower. Intense heat covered your body…”
“Yes, Doc, we’ve had the discussion about my eyes exploding.”
“It also cauterized a great many of your wounds. Which, actually, saved your life. However, in order to get these legs onto your knees, so you can walk again, and, to be more precise, walk naturally again, and actually feel your legs, we’re going to have to…well…open up the wounds.”
Ah. Still, it wouldn’t be so bad. I mused. All I’d have to do is be put under, and…
“And then,” he continued, “Attaching the lower legs won’t be as simple as screwing them on. Your eyes were different, as they don’t actually feel. With them, it was a case of attaching the nerves and letting the system do the rest. With the legs, however…”
I sighed. As much as I was beginning to like Doctor Wilks, he could ramble, and chat, all day, without ever reaching his point.
“We need you to be awake for the procedure. And without the influence of any sort of pain medication, as we need you to be able to feel what’s going on, so we know we have the correct nerves.”
Oh.
“And even then, we need you to stay off medication for the duration of the healing process, so that the nerve impulses work properly. Without the correct information, even one of pain, the brain won’t recognise your legs will work, and we’d have to do it all over again.”
“How long…will this take?”
“The operation? Maybe 36 hours.”
I stared at Wilks. “And the re-cuperation process?”
He shrugged. “Anything from one month to four.”
A third of a year. In intense pain. All so I could fly?

“Let’s get started now, then.”

---

The next four months simply flew by. I barely felt any pain at all, and actually enjoyed the physiotherapy, coupled with intense safety and control meetings with various doctors and instructors on how to use my legs to their maximum potential. Within a week, I was up and about, and within two, I was outrunning cars…

No, just kidding. I was in agony. I’m a guy, right? A fairly manly, stereotypical ‘dude’. However, I’m not ashamed to admit that I was crying, freely, from five minutes into the procedure (which Doctor Wilks’ cheerfully called ‘hacking open your legs with a rusty hacksaw’) up until…well, the pain didn’t stop, but I certainly grew used to it. Unless I moved. Sadly, because I moved when I took a breath in, it made things worse. I used to breath in quickly, to get rid of the pain faster, hold my breath, and then slowly breath out.
Breathing out was worse than breathing in. The worst thing about it, the absolute worst, was the knowledge that I happily agreed to subject myself to all this pain. You might thank that the knowledge would make it easier?

I call [censored] on you.

Women…reach into your mouth, and yank out a tooth. Right now. Go on, find a nice, healthy tooth, and rip that little bugger right out of there. With your fingers. I dare you…no, I double dare you.
You won’t do it, will you?
And why not?
The answer is, ‘I won’t do it, Jay, because it will hurt.’
Yes. Yes, it will. Now imagine turning around and letting someone, with full consent, rip out all your teeth, simultaneously, without any sort of anaesthesia.

Guys…find a good looking woman, stand with your legs apart, and tell them that you want them to kick you, full force, in the testicles. Okay, most of the time, they’ll think you’re sex freaks and run away. But imagine a five time black belt, man hating lesbian did it to you. As hard as she could. Twice. Think you’d still be willing to go through it again? Hell, think you’d still be standing? Or even conscious?I doubt you’d be able to raise so much as a smile for the rest of your natural.

Now, boys (or former boys, if you actually did it) and girls, imagine going through that pain, every second, of every minute, of every day, for four whole months, and tell me I was smart to let them do it.

Looking back, all this time later, I can honestly look back where I stand (and I’m overjoyed, even after all this time, to say I can stand at all) and say I’m glad I did it. I’m happy, and pleased, that I let Wilks and his team put me through all that pain, for months on end, through all that gruelling physiotherapy that didn’t seem to work until I ‘accidentally’ kicked my therapist in the chest, knocking him back 10 feet and breaking four of his ribs. I’m relieved that all that pain I went through, all that yelling and shouting for Wilks and the instructors to get out of my hospital room during safety discussions, all the walking up and down stairs for sheer agony, was worth it.

But would I do it all again?

Not on your life, matey.

---

It had been five months since the operation. The pain had gone, for the most part. I still got the odd twinge, every now and again, but I was assured that it was mostly Phantom Limb pain, where my brain was still re-adjusting to the new legs, and trying to forget my old ones had gone. It would, much like the skin graft itching, pass without incident. I could stand, I could walk, I could run. I could go to the toilet by myself (oddly, this was the greatest pleasure out of all of them), and, most importantly, I knew how to fly.
In theory.

Doctor Wilks, and his team, weren’t much help on the subject. Sammy had little advice beyond “Go on, mate, flap your arms!” and Emily, although she had visited once or twice, had important things to attend to. Frankly, I’m glad she didn’t visit much, as I didn’t want her to see me as an invalid. She had, however, on one of her rare visits, left me a book. A book on flying.
It was called (and no, I’m not making this up) ‘I Believe I Can Fly’. It was written by a Doctor Richard Kelly.

Think about that one for a second. Then tell me it wasn’t a joke present.

The ‘critically acclaimed’ book had this to say on the subject of flying, which I read many times during my convalescence.

“There is an art to flying. Or, rather simply, a knack. To fly without conscious decision is the most difficult, and yet, the most important task to manage. First, watch a bird in flight on a sunny day. See how it soars majestically, wings outstretched, finding thermal pockets and rising above the world below. This will be Lesson One. Wait until a sunny day, and stand a good distance from the ground…five or six metres will suffice. Then, spread your arms, tilt your head to the sun, and take a leap. A leap of faith. Faith in yourself, and the powers of flight that you possess.
“When you have fallen to the ground, realise one fact. One truth, which you should keep in your mind forever.

“Lesson One. You are NOT a bird.”

…The book actually goes on like that for quite some time. It never reveals what you –are-, just what you are not. I suppose the last lesson should have been ‘You are NOT smart for wasting your money on this’, but then, it probably wouldn’t sell so much. I idly wondered, one day, just how many people were stupid enough to jump from 19 feet in the air, believing in the faith that they were birds. Not too many, I guessed.

In month six, I figured out how to sort of…hover, in the air, however, that was all I could manage. It was a slow way to travel, and in the fights I knew I would get into, I knew it was a pathetic mode of transportation. Nobody seemed to think it was that serious, and even that damned book told me that ‘Flight, although elusive and slow at first, will speed up as you gain more and more power in the world’.

Richard Kelly was such a hack.

In the mean time, I learned more valuable skills. I practiced with the Fire Sword daily, for hours at a time. Eventually, I had the cylindrical power unit sewn into a glove I would wear at all times, so whenever I made a fist, it would ignite.
Sammy obverved this one day, and advised I didn’t make any…uhm…’manly’ trips to privacy, shall we say. Also, Emily pointed out that I couldn’t pee with the glove on, unless I wanted to live my life known as Super Catheter Man. I also received, one day, an oak box with the Emblem of the Truth of The Flame on it. Upon opening it, I saw a gun. Of a sort. In fact, it looked more like a paintball gun than anything else, but I was advised that is was quite lethal. Sammy read through the instruction manual one evening, as I amused myself by changing my vision with the keyboard, from normal vision, to infra-red (which, incidentally, makes a great lie detector), to Ultra-Violet,to X-Ray, Night Vision, and back again. Emily stood in the corner, watching, and grinned at me when she saw me checking her out. If only she knew I was looking at, not only her body, but her whole skeletal structure.
“Semi-Auto burst shot, single shot, sniper rifle, bean bag launcher, sniper rifle, flamethrower…this thing has it all!”
I nodded. “It’ll be useful. Unlike this damn hovering skill.” I complained as I launched myself into a puttering hover, not two feet off the ground.
“You’ll get better at it, mate.” Sammy said, his eyes not once leaving the manual. It’s strange, I thought. All this time, and Sammy had suddenly taken a huge interest in what my capabilities were, my strengths and weaknesses. Still, it isn’t every day your best friend turns into a Superhero, I told myself. That was probably it.
He checked his watch. “Look, mate, I have to run. I’m meeting some Superbird over at Pocket D. I’ll catch you later, okay?”
I nodded. “Sure, have fun.”

Sammy left, and Emily moved closer. “He seems to like this city.”
“It’s grown on him. We’ve been here nearly a year, after all.”
Emily nodded. “Which reminds me. It’s Christmas next week,” I blinked. Already? “And the annual Mayoral Ball is coming up. Unless,” Emily wrinkled her nose. “The Gamester interferes again.”
“The who?”
She shrugged it off. “It isn’t important. Anyway, I was hoping that maybe, if you were up to it…”
“Em!” I said, pretending to be shocked. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
She blushed. Just for fun, I changed my vision to infra-red, and nearly gasped with how much more red her face was that way. I changed it back quickly.
“Well, yes, I suppose I am.”
“Well. Okay, then.” I shrugged. “I need to test out these new legs in a social setting, that may as well be a good field test as any.”
She stared. “A field test? You’re calling a date with me, on Christmas eve, a ‘field test’?”
“Uhm….no.”
“Good.” She looked over at me. “Which reminds me, we need to set you up with a visit to a tailor.”
“What’s wrong with a normal tux? I look good in a tux.” I said, defensively. She moved closer, and brushed some imaginary dirt from my shoulders.
“I know you do, but I was thinking more along the lines of your costume.”
Ohh.
“I see.” I nodded. “Well, I’ve been having a few ideas.”
“Tell me?” She smiled slightly.
“Nope. Set me up with this tailor, and you’ll see when everybody else does?”
She grinned. “Before or after the ball?”
I quirked an eyebrow at her. “There’ll be an after?”

Emily smiled, and moved to leave the room. I watched her go, swaying her hips more than normal. My mouth felt suddenly very dry. She never stopped moving, but she turned her head, and shot over her shoulder. “If you’ve been a very good boy.”


I love Christmas.


--------------------------------------------

Next Chapter: The First Outing Of The Fire Guardian!
Stay tuned.

They were great. I loved seeing the last one. Watching all the Superheroes in action, especially in the first clip, made me wish I'd gotten on the CoV beta.

One question - how do you make the movies? I tried setting up a demo, but it was recorded in a file format my editors won't recognise.

Chapter Seven

Now, if they ever make a movie about my life, this is where the training montage would come in. I would stoically remain calm as they attached my new eyes, learn to walk slowly, but surely, and be shown in a close-up, as the doctors applied their various skills and technology to remove my scars.

Did all of it happen? Yes.
Was it all as painless as movies would have us believe?

Hell no.

---

On the first day, I was woken up by my bed jostling. Before I could say anything, though, I realised something. Something pretty important, actually. You see, someone…probably Doctor Wilks, who, if I was right, was now number two on my revenge list…had decided, in their infinite wisdom, to take me off painkillers. On a scale of one to ten, where one was ‘feeling fine’ and ten was ‘Why is my body screaming at me to commit suicide’, I was probably at a 17.
I screamed. Well, what else could I do?
“Take it easy, Mr Tucker, we’re nearly there.”
“What….the [censored]…are you doing?”
“We’re just….nearly….THERE!”
My head exploded in pain. Not literally, you understand, but it felt like it was about to. I went from 17, on the scale, to approximately a 32. Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit me, and I looked around, grabbing the first receptacle I could see, and…
Through the pain, through the vomit, and most of all, through that horrible, horrible smell, a sudden thought occurred to me.

I could see.

When I had finished my oral expulsion, I looked up, and saw an elderly man, with thick glasses, smiling down at me.
“Doctor Wilks?”
He smiled even more. “Hello there, Mr Tucker.”
I reached out to him. It was touching, I suppose. The invalid patient who suddenly had his sight restored. He leaned closer, and raised his hand…
Perfect.
I grabbed his tie, and yanked his face close to mine.
“Who…the [censored]….took me off painkillers?”
“Uhm…well…that is…”
I let go of his tie. Torturing medical staff for doing their jobs really wasn’t my sort of thing.
“Don’t do it again without telling me first.”
I leaned back, and got my first real look around…my first look at anything…in two months.

My vision, sadly, wasn’t great. It wasn’t even good. Whilst I could see, everything was vaguely blurry, static-y, and in greyscale…I’m sure philosophers out there would read something into that. I make a decision to become a superhero, and suddenly everything’s in black and white. As for me, I was wondering just how they managed this little feat of sight.
“Mirror.”
“What?”
“I would like a mirror. I haven’t seen myself in a long time.”
Wilks reached to my bedside, and handed a small mirror to me. I gazed into my reflection for nothing more than a handful of seconds, before I handed it back in disgust.
“That isn’t me.”
“Give it time, Mr Tucker”, Wilks responded soothingly. “It’s only the first day.”

What Wilks didn’t know…what he couldn’t know…was that I felt I would never look the same way again. My skin, once blemish free, was a mass of what I assume were red and pink scars. I had no ears to speak of, and my nose was practically gone. My eyelids, from what I tell, had been burned off by the flamethrower. At least, I wasn’t too sure about that. They may have still been there, but I couldn’t tell, with the ocular implants I had received.
They were flat, and recessed into my skull. Although I couldn’t see in any colour, I doubted they had any to speak of. Perfectly round, they had small cylindrical circles raised on the outer edges, with a larger version slap bang in the middle.
Granted, I had only seen myself in the mirror for scant moments. It had been more than enough.

“Only the first day?” A familiar voice crowed. “[censored], if he looks this bad on the first day, he’ll look even worse in a week.” I looked over. There, through the white noise of my supposedly ‘enhanced’ vision, was a figure I instantly recognised as Sammy Edwards. He turned to look at me, a huge grin on his face.

“What’s up, Wankenstein?”

---

Sammy had, or so he said, stayed at the hotel, more than happy to burn a hole in my (alright, limitless) supply of funding. Whilst I had entertained notions throughout my convalescence that he was worried sick, and stayed in close proximity to me, Sammy, instead, was dating Superheroines.
“Fit ones too, man. In tight spandex!”
Sammy had gone to that nightclub every night since then, pouring his heart out that his ‘bestest friend in the world was near death’, and getting comforted. And now I was alert, awake, and sadly, able to see his irritating grin, Sammy was relaying some of the more…detailed facts to me.
“And one night, there was this one girl…oh, man, she was so FINE! Tight little yellow two piece, which hugged her figure…and so did I.” His grin, which many have called “[censored] eating”, got bigger. “And then, after she bought me a few drinks, we were on the dance floor, griiiiinding away,” When, as he said it, Sammy felt the need to roll his hips in an obscene chair dance, as if he were humping the chair, instead of doing the respectful thing and sitting on it. “And then we went back to her place.”
I wasn’t going to ask.
I couldn’t.
I mustn’t.
“So…” Damn you, mouth! “Did you do the deed?”
“Huh?” Sammy played innocent with me.
“Did you two get…physical?”
“Oh!” Sammy practically yelled. “You want to know if I boned her brains out?”
Doctor Wilks, and the two or three doctors in the room, stopped reviewing notes, and turned to look at us.
“Nah,” he continued, leaning back in his chair, and putting his feet up on my bed. “I make it a rule to never sleep with a girl with a more impressive six-pack than me.”
“Oh”, was my only reply.
“I mean, things were fine until she wanted to bench-press me. I mean, what’s up with that?”
The thought of a nubile, skinny girl bench-pressing a naked Sammy had me, once again, reaching for a bin to throw up in. Well, it wasn’t the thought of the bench-pressing. It was more the thought of Sammy. Naked.
“Exactly, Jay. Exactly.” He patted my back, which only made me throw up more.

Mercifully, Doctor Wilks approached us. “Mr Edwards, it’s time to let Jason rest. We need to make a few adjustments to his optic sensors.”
“Whussat?” Sammy blinked. “You mean he doesn’t have eyes anymore?” He looked down at me, and tried to maintain a straight face. “Well, bugger me, I never noticed.” He got up to go, and got as far as opening the door before turning back, and tossing me a cheerful salute.
“See ya later, Wankenstein!”

As he left, Doctor Wilks watched him go very closely, before turning back to me. “Your friend is certainly a…colourful individual.”
“He is, at that. So, what’re these adjustments?”
“Oh! Well, we’re going to…”

I let my mind wander as Dr Wilks rambled on. No matter what ‘improvements’ he and his team were going to make, I’d still look like a freak. Noticing he had finished, and was looking down at me, excitement in his beady little eyes, I nodded. “Okay, whatever.”

As I was put under, there in the room (why not an operating room? Had these people no sense?) I caught myself wondering what, exactly, Wilks wanted to do to my eyes. Just as blackness slipped in, I realised I should have paid more attention.

---

“Mr Tucker…”
“Hmph.”
“Mr Tucker…we need you to open your eyes.”
“Meh.”
“Yo, Wankenstein!” A horrifically loud voice startled me into full consciousness. “Open your [censored] eyes, you [censored] nugget, so I can show you some photos of me [censored] your mother!”
My eyes shot open, and only Sammy’s quick reflexes saved him from my hand around his neck.
Just as quickly, though, my eyes closed.
“Oh, jeez, it’s too bright!”
“What?” Dr Wilks’ voice sang out. “Oh, right. Sorry.” I heard some beeping. “Try now.”
Very slowly, I opened my eyes, and looked out. Everything was…in…beautiful…colour!
“Damn, dude,” I looked at Sammy. “You look hungover as all hell.”
Sammy scowled at me. “Late night in Pocket D.”
“That superheroine again?”
“What? No. Another one.”
“Damn, Sammy. If you end up with a group of super strong females coming after you, all angry, don’t look to me for protection.”
“Nah, it’s cool. They’re so busy saving the world, they don’t mind.” Sammy shrugged.
Doctor Wilks felt the need to interrupt. Thankfully.
“Mr Tucker, would you like a mirror?”
I shook my head. “No offence, Doc, but I know what I look like. I look like the Frankenstein monster.”
“The [censored]enstein Monster,” Sammy corrected. “Wankenstein. And he’s right. If anything, he’s even worse than before.”
Oh, Christ, what did they do to me this time?
I held out my hand. “Mirror. Now.”
Shakily, Dr Wilks handed me a mirror. “Now, Mr Tucker, remember that adjustments will constantly have to be made.”
“Whatever, Wilks.” I tilted the mirror, and gazed into my reflection.

The first thing I noticed, before anything else, were my eyes.
My honest-to-god, no dumb metal circle, big, warm, brown eyes!
Doctor Wilks could obviously sense my shock. “We used photographs provided by Mr Edwards here, to fabricate exact duplicates of your old eyes, down to the golden flecks in the irises. From an outside look, they’re virtually indistinguishable from your old ones.”
I turned to look at Sammy. “Golden flecks?”
He shrugged. “I may have mentioned your eyes had the same colour as dog [censored] after it’s eaten the Christmas tree.”
Ahh. I turned back to the mirror, to study my face more.

It’s funny how these things turn out, at times. What I’d like each of you to do, right now, is find a mirror. Got one? Now, look at your face. I mean really and truly, look at your face. Notice every feature, every pore, every imperfection.
Now take the mirror away, and do something else for a few minutes. Then, think about your face. I’ll bet you anything you like that you don’t remember every single detail. There’ll be something you forget, until you look back in a mirror.

That’s what it felt like I was doing. My face was, once again, my face. I had a nose. I had ears. I had no scars. And, most important, I had eyes!
Which, surprisingly for fakes, were welling up with tears. Doctor Wilks noticed, and turned to Sammy. “Would you leave us for a few moments, Mr Edwards?”
“Yeah, sure. I need to take a leak, anyway.” He shrugged, and made himself scarce.
Wilks turned back to me. “I realise you weren’t expecting this much back this quickly, but…you’ve done a lot for some of the people in this city. More than you can possibly realise.”
I stared up at him, trying to blink away tears. “What do you mean?”
Wilks said nothing for a moment, then reached up, as if to take his glasses off. What he did, instead of removing his eyeglasses, was remove an eyeball.
One of his.

Behind it was one of the same devices I had seen embedded in my skull.

“During the Rikti War, I was a field medic, with my wife. The Superheroes have teleporters, so they come straight to the nearest hospital. The soldiers, however, needed more mundane help.”
I tried to interject, to let him know this wasn’t necessary. However, he had other plans. “A mortar shell…one of ours…got re-directed, and blew up next to where my wife and I were working on a young man…he couldn’t have been more than 17. Just a child. When I woke up, I was told that the war was over, I had been in a coma for years, and that alongside my vision, my wife had been taken from me, alongside that young soldier.
“I knew nothing but pain, and hurt, and anguish for so long, I couldn’t even think about anything else. I couldn’t remember anything but the pain, and the blackness. These ocular implants were experimental, at best, and prohibitively expensive. Then, one day, I was told about a Foundation. Your Foundation, as it turns out. One that was set up to help victims of the war, that would willingly pay for my implants, should I want them, no questions asked, no strings attached.
“Mr Tucker, you owe your eyesight to nobody but yourself. Just as you owe your good health and return to society to nobody else. It’s I who owe you an incredible debt…this whole city does, in one way or another.”
Wilks popped his eye back into place, and blinked a few more times.
“Now, I should let you get some rest, in a moment, before Mr Edwards comes back in. But first, I’d like to show you something quite remarkable.” He held out a long, thin keyboard. “This is tuned specifically for your eyesight. It’s an interface which allows you…”

This time, although Wilks kept rambling on, I gave him my total attention.

---

“So, you have X-Ray vision?”
“Yup!” I grinned at Sammy, and tried to ignore my itchy face. Dr Wilks told me that it would itch at times, until the skin grafts took complete hold. I was willing to trust him.
“Okay.” He scribbled something I couldn’t see on a piece of paper, and held it up away from me. “What did I just write?”
Pressing a few buttons on my keyboard, I glanced at him. “I have no idea.”
“Aw, what?”
“Sammy, it’s X-Ray vision, not ‘see through one layer’ vision. Although you seem to have a crayon in your stomach.”
“Ugh, gross, man!” Sammy laughed, and put down the paper. “So, when do you get new legs?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. I have to wait until the skin grafts take a more complete hold on my body.”
“Skin grafts…what, everywhere?”
The door opened, and Emily walked in. “What’s this about skin grafts? Oh, hi Sammy.”
Sammy stared. I knew I had forgotten to tell him something.
“Hey Jason. You’re looking much better. It’s good to see you have a nose, at least.” I didn’t answer. Well, not verbally. I did, however, take a look at her through my X-Ray vision.

Interesting. Since when do Mayoral aides carry guns?

“What’s with the piece?” I asked.
“Hmm? Oh, it’s standard issue for…my other job.” The other job, I took to mean the Brotherhood. “It’s actually that I wanted to speak to you about. Sammy, would you give us a few minutes?”
“Hang on!” Sammy stood. “I want to hear about these skin grafts!”
“Okay, fine.” Emily moved closer to me, and lifted up the bedsheet, giving herself a long look at my naked body.
“Yup, 100% skin grafts. Although, it’s good to see they didn’t touch his…”
“WOAH!” Sammy squeaked. “Way too much information. I’m outta here.”
As Sammy quickly left, I grinned at her. “I thought you didn’t want to see me naked anymore.”
“Well, it’s fun to mess with Sammy’s head. Always was.” She lowered the sheet. “Anyway, as a duly appointed member of The Brotherhood, I need to ask you about your legs.”
“Uhm…Em? My legs are…nonexistent.”
She snorted. “No, you idiot. The new ones. 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, not entirely enjoying the itching that spread across my forehead as I did so. “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.”
“You mean exhausted as in that weekend we spent in…”
“Yes, well, I’m not here to rehash the past. You’ll feel pretty drained, though.”
“Oh.” What was with this girl? Checking out my naked body one minute, then refusing to talk about our relationship…weird.
“Well, you’re right. I guess I’ll stick with flying.”
“Cool, I’ll let the doctors know. They’ll be fitting your new legs tomorrow.” Emily got up to leave. Just before she reached the door, though, she turned back. “Oh, one more thing…I’d imagine that it is like that weekend. Only less fun.”
“What can be more fun than flying?”
“Well…” She winked, and left.
Sammy came back in a moment later. “Dude…what’s Emily doing here?”
I thought about it, and gave him the only honest response I could.
“I have absolutely no idea what she’s doing.”

***

Authorial Interjection: Well, that’s it for now. I may be able to squeeze Chapter Eight out before I retire for the night, but I’m not counting on it. I’ll update as soon as I can, but it might not be until Tuesday night/Wednesday. I hope you’re enjoying it so far, and if you haven’t done it already, either drop me a PM or post on here, with any suggestions, comments, or your thoughts on where this is going. If anyone can correctly guess who The Corruptor is, you win a prize!

Chapter Six

Being dead was interesting.

Not interesting in a “Look, there’s grandma!” kind of sense. There was very little of the whole ‘city in the clouds’ type of heaven we’re used to seeing portrayed in movies, books, or even cream cheese advertisements on TV. All I saw was total blackness, with slight flashes of red. I was too hot, ridiculously uncomfortable, and in pain. When all of that added up, I figured that, instead of heaven, I was…well…in the other place.
I heard voices, too. None of which I recognised. Part of me was pleased. Certainly, I was dead, and in hell, but if Sammy had been caught and killed too, there was no doubt in my mind that he’d end up down here with me. I mean, the guy had a fixation on massive stone breasts. So, he, at least, was safe.
The voices drifted in and out of the blackness, which never changed.
“…Slowly. In a few more…”
“Almost ready…implants…walk”
“…Ocular regeneration…very…to do”
“Jason?”

It was the first time one of the voices had mentioned my name, at least to my remembrance.
“Jason? My name is Doctor Wilks.”
They had a doctor down here, too? Great. I bet he got brought down to hell for doing things he wasn’t supposed to do with his female patients.
“Jason, I need you to relax.”
Relax? Here I was, in the afterlife, stuck as one of Satan’s playthings, and he wanted me to relax? Do me a solid.
“You’re at the Chiron Medical Facility.”

The who with the what, now?

“You were brought in by a Superhero who found your body, and we’ve been taking care of you.”
“Not…” I was amazed by how little my voice sounded like my own. “Dead?”
“Well, not anymore.” Dr Wilks sounded slightly amused. “Your heart stopped a few times when we were trying to revive you, but you’re very much alive. If not well.”
Now, that made absolutely no sense. If we were in a hospital, why were all the lights off? Had they sewn my eyelids shut?
“Can’t see.” I croaked.
“Yes, I know. How much of what happened do you remember?”
“Attacked….church. Inferm tried to save…” I gasped for air. Since when was talking so hard to do? “Corruptor. Shot legs. Fire…”
“Yes, there was a fire. A massive one. Your body was badly damaged by it. The forensics team guessed there were flamethrowers involved, as there were traces of napalm on you.”
“Yes.” Why wouldn’t this man turn on the goddamned lights?
“I’m very sorry to say, Jason, that your legs are completely ruined. The lower legs were totally destroyed. Your arms are also very burned, and…well, you no longer have any sight.”
“Blind?” I managed to gasp out
“Of a sort. To put it in terms you’d understand, your eyeballs…well, they’re made of a high water concentration. When they’re exposed to an intense heat…I’m sorry to say your eyes simply exploded.”
Oh I thought to myself. That explains why I can’t see.
“We’re keeping you under some heavy painkillers, for obvious reasons.”
“How long?” I muttered.
“You’ve been here a little under two months.”

---

Two months. Had nobody missed me? What about Sammy?
“Sammy…”
“Mr Edwards is still in Paragon City, never fear. The police contacted him as soon as we knew your identity, which wasn’t, frankly, easy to find out. He visits you once a week.”
Once a week? My closest friend and he only came once a week? Little git.
“Now, Mr Tucker, because we couldn’t find any trace of family living in Paragon City, and whatever identity and money cards you had were destroyed in the fire, we sent off a request for help from a group of people who have experience in providing monetary aid. Generally, it’s for war orphans, but we feel they may be able to help you.”
War orphans? He didn’t mean…
”The Tucker Foundation?”
“Yes, I see you’ve heard of them.”

Bloody ironic, really.

“They said they’d review the situation, and be in touch in a few weeks.”
“Call them up. Ask for Mike Anson.”
“Who?”
“Mike…Anson. He’s the chairman.”
“Okay…” Wilks sounded confused. “How do you know all this?”
I managed to utter two more words before consciousness gave way, and I was once more thrust into oblivion. Just two words, but I felt they summed up everything that had happened.
“Don’t ask.”

---

Time passes very slowly when you’re in a hospital bed an unable to see. I could have been there for days, or weeks. Possibly even a few hours or even minutes, before I realised I was conscious once again. Wilks was standing nearby. Although I couldn’t see him, I knew he was there. The man wouldn’t shut up.
“…Quite impossible.”
“I beg your pardon?” Hey! That was better. At least I could talk properly again.
“As I was saying, with Mr Anson’s disappearance, contacting him is quite impossible.”
What?
“What?”
“He vanished, a little over six weeks ago. Nobody seems to know where he is.”
So, Mike had vanished a little after I was attacked? Strange.
“Phone.”
“You’d like a telephone?”
“…No. I want to say ‘phone’ a lot.”
Dr Wilks put something in my hands. “Here you go.”
“…Dial for me. I can’t see the buttons.”
“Oh. Oh, yes, of course.”
Just how did this man earn his medical degree?
I rattled off a long number, and after a few seconds, I had the phone back in my hands, and with difficulty, pressed against my ear. Moments later, I heard a young and chipper female voice.
“Tucker Foundation, Michelle speaking, how can I help you?”
Oh, bugger. Michelle.
“Michelle, it’s Jason.”
“Mr Tucker!” Michelle’s exuberance rang out over several thousand miles, and nearly deafened me. “Where are you? We’ve all been trying to get in touch…”
“Yes, I heard about Mike just now. What’s going on?”
“Well, nobody knows where he is. He just…didn’t come into work one day, and nobody’s heard from him.”
“Right.”
“Does this mean you’re coming back, Mr Tuck?”
“Eventually. Listen, there was a request sent by the Chiron Medical Facility in Paragon City, America.”
“Hang on, Mr Tuck, I’m looking at it now…poor *******. How can anyone go through this?”
Hmm…
“What does it say?”
“Lost eyesight, lost legs, severely disfigured by fire…”
Disfigured? Say what, now?
“Yes, well, we’re going to help him.”
“It says his name is listed as Ja…oh.”
“Michelle?”
“Oh, Mr Tucker, I’m so…”
“Michelle.”
“It can’t possibly have been…”
“MICHELLE!”
“…Yes, sir?”
“Whatever the doctors need, cash, medical teams, equipment, I want them to have it.”
“Of course, Mr Tuck….Mr Tucker. Right away, sir.”
“Thank you. Make all the arrangements, will you?”
“Yes, sir.”
The line went dead, and I handed the phone out to mid-air. Dr Wilks must have caught it, though, because I didn’t hear it fall.
“You’re…you’re that Mr Tucker?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
“I never knew.”
“I’d like to keep it that way.” I leaned back against my bed. Funny, I never realised I had sat up.
“Now, a while ago, you were talking about Ocular implants?”
“Yes….yes. They’re expensive, but you can afford it. However, someone has asked to speak to you, before we go into any details on surgery.”
I really wasn’t in the mood for any visitors, but I figured Sammy might have finally shown up. “Who is it?”
“It’s…well, it’s the Mayor. And her aide.”
What would the Mayor want with me? Probably some ‘I’m so sorry’ speech, followed by ‘our best men are working on it’.

Then I remembered something I had been told before the attack. An elderly man’s voice came back to me, from a debriefing I had received in a church…

“Even the Mayor follows The Truth, Mr Tucker…”

“Send her in.”

---

High heels. That was my first impression of The Mayor and her aide. Both of them wore high heels. They entered my room, and I heard a light female voice say, “Thank you Doctor Wilks.”
“Oh..yes. Well. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
Padded feet moving away, and I heard a door close.
“Mr Tucker,” that same voice noted. “My name is Samantha Hearten. I am the mayor of Paragon City.”
“Hi.”
Okay, so I wasn’t in a talkative mood. I’m allowed to, though, right? I mean, I’d lost my legs, my sight, and my looks.
“This is my aide…”
“Yes, yes.” I cut her off. “Forgive my rudeness, however, I believe you wanted to speak to me?”
“Yes.” The Mayor allowed. “It concerns a mutual friend of ours. Jenson Infern.”
There was something in her voice. Infern wasn’t just an acquaintance of hers. She was definitely a member of the Brotherhood.
“Yes, I know Mr Infern. I was there when he died.”
Silence.
“I know you were. I wanted to ask if the rumours were true.”
What rumours?
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you mean.”
“There were no survivors at the Alpha Site to what happened, apart from you. Security footage showed men in black armour, but then they stopped. We don’t know…”
“It was Corruptor. At least, that’s who I think it was. That’s what Infern called him.”
“Corruptor?” The mayor gasped.
“You’ve met?”
“No…no, never in person. No member of the Brotherhood has ever met Corruptor and lived to tell about it. I don’t know why he didn’t kill you.”
“He probably thought he had. He killed Infern, and then shot me. Blew off my legs.”
More silence. It was quite refreshing, in it’s way, however, the silence was brought open by telling something tragic.
“Mr Tucker…Jenson was my friend. He helped get me this job, so that I could help the Brotherhood. I’m a loyal follower of the Truth, as is my aide, here.”
“Well, that’s nice, but honestly, I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

I heard the mayor sit down in a creaky chair near my head. “Well…before he died, Jenson phoned me. Said he thought he had found our latest Field Agent.”
“Me?”
“Yes. Jenson believed he had discovered someone of infallible integrity, personal strength, and the need to see justice done.”

I know when I’m trying to be played, and the Mayor was trying to play me like Mozart in front of a piano.
“I know of your monetary situation, Mr Tucker. Jenson e-mailed me your file, and your personal history is impressive.”
“I can’t see.”
The mayor went on, as if she hadn’t heard.
“You can be the next Agent. You can go up against the man who killed Jenson Infern, who tried to kill you.”
“I can’t see.”
“You can right wrongs, rub shoulders with Statesman, and have the full backing of the local, State, and national Government.”
“Are you deaf? I’m flattered, and everything, but I…cannot…see!”
“Oh, we can fix that. Ocular implants for your eyes, new legs, new arms…you’d still be Jason Tucker, but you’d also be the torch for The Truth. Carrying out great acts…”

She went on like that for some time. My answer was going to be the same as I had given. No offence to this Brotherhood, but I could get the same implants done. Get my face fixed. Be able to see, to move, to carry on my life just as it had been before, and never even think about the cost. But then the mayor did something I didn’t expect.
“And my aide agrees with me. Don’t you, Emily?”

---

Pete, it had turned out, had died in the war. Being distraught, and broke in money and in spirit, unable to return home to England, Emily had set out to make a life for herself here. She had worked for multiple places, before finding herself at the Mayoral Campaign. One, it turned out, was backed by The Brotherhood, of which Emily found herself inducted into. Eventually, her story got through to my Foundation, and she was awarded a monthly ‘allowance’, which found its’ way into the Brotherhood.
I was, she reasoned, already supplying the group. I may as well join.

As I have said before, I know when I’m being played. With Emily, doubly so. She was always good at manipulating me, and she told me what I wanted to hear, with the exception of promising herself to me. In fact, the idea of a reconciliation never passed her lips, was never even hinted at. Just as well, really. I wouldn’t want to date her with a disfigured face and no legs.
“…Just think about it, okay?”
I heard her leave the room, and then, it was just the Mayor and me.
“Well, Mr Tucker, you’ve heard from me, and you’ve heard from and old girlfriend. What do you say?”

I thought about my answer before I gave it. I realised I had been quiet for a long, long time, and maybe the Mayor thought I had passed out again.

“Well,” I began. “Since I got to Paragon City, I’ve been threatened, intimidated, shot, blinded, horribly scarred, and manipulated, all because of your so called Truth.”
“Mr Tucker…Jason…” The Mayor began.
“No, look.” I interrupted. “You’ve had your say. Now it’s my turn.
“You promise me that with your help, I can be restored to full mobility. Better than full mobility, in fact. My eyesight will be returned to me, the scars on my face removed as if they were never there, as long as I become a part of your little organisation. Well, thanks, but no thanks. I can do all that on my own, with my own money, and I won’t have to owe you a damn thing.”
“I see.” The Mayor said softly, and I heard her get up to leave.
“However,” I continued. “Just because I don’t owe you anything, it doesn’t mean I don’t owe Corruptor anything.”
“Oh?” The Mayor’s voice held a note of hope.
“I owe him pain. I owe him suffering, and blindness, and for him to lose his legs as I lost mine. I owe him the fear of being left to die, surrounded by fire.”
I took a breath. “It seems to me that the best chance I have of doing that, is by becoming one of your Field Agents. I’m in.” I allowed, “But that doesn’t mean I owe you anything. Deal?”

I could hear the Mayor’s smile, although, for the time being, I couldn’t see it.

“It’s a deal. But, what are you going to call yourself?”
I pondered that. “Mr Infern…Jenson…when he made the offer to me, he asked me to become a ‘guardian’ of The Truth.”
“Yes?”
“So, that’s what I’ll call myself. From now on…I’m The Fire Guardian.”

Authorial Interjection

Five chapters!
A cliffhanger!
One public reply!

Loving it. Oh, yes.

As previously stated, today is the last day I get to do a regular update. Since I'm spitting out chapter after chapter anyway, it won't matter too much. I've recieved a couple of PMs about the story, and instead of answering them privately, I figured that, to save time, I'll answer them here.

Q: Where did you get the idea to write a story?
A: Well, first and foremost, I consider myself a writer above anything else. I just tend to not exercise it that much. As the predominant script writer for my theatre company, I knock about several ideas a week, and either myself or my staff will work on something until it's complete, or until I think it's utter [censored]. This is my first chance in a long while to work on anything not script related, and I'm getting a hell of a thrill out of it.

Q: Are your characters based on anyone?
A: I'd love to give the standard "characters and events are entirely fictional, and any resemblance is purely unintentional, blah blah blah" response a lot of writers give. The truth is, however, far from it. There IS a Sammy Edwards, although his name isn't Sammy. It's Spate. His responses and general outlook on life, one day, made me laugh and write a script called The Jolly Roger, which was, and is, a musical loosely based on myself and my friends from college. Although Spate's never kept a poster of War Witch in his bedroom, I have doubt that he would. Sammy is a recurring character in my scripts, as are the names of Jason, and Mike Anson, although Mike generally gets used as a generic character. And yes, there have actually been two Emily's, both called Emily. One did dump me for a soldier, although his name was Ade, and he's a good friend of mine who found the whole thing hilarious. Especially when he cheated on Emily with a local skank. The more recent one and I have never actually gotten together, but it's been a whole 'Will They/Won't They' thing for a few years. Whenever I've wanted to get with her, she's been in a relationship, and vice versa. As for events, I was personally devestated with the Rikti attacked....wait. No, that's not right. Well, when I visited Paragon City....uhm...hang on. All events -are- fictional.

Q:What would you do if you won the lottery?
A: Good question, and I'm glad someone asked it. I'd like to think that, like Jason, I'd set up some sort of Foundation to help people in need. However, I find it much more likely that I'd go to a strip club. I'd probably buy NC Soft, too, just so I could threaten Bridger with his job if he doesn't post more.

Q: Do you roleplay?
A: It may be a surprising answer to many that, no, in fact I don't, and never have. Between working, both at Toys R Us and the theatre company, hitting the gym, and singing in bars and clubs all over the place, I don't have much time to spend in Paragon, and I'd rather not invest my time in roleplaying. Not because I see it as boring, or pointless, because I don't. Not at all. I have a lot of respect for people who take up what can be a long and, frankly, difficult hobby. However, it isn't fair to other people to expect me to join them for a roleplay if I can't make it due to other commitments, and it isn't fair to myself for me to drop everything I'm doing just to get in a quick mission. I'm Ben Fox. I'm also the Fire Guardian. The two are one and the same, at least in-game. Any questions I get about 'my life' will get Ben Fox' reply, not Jason Tucker's.

And yes, I gave FG a different name for the story than my own one. This is because this story is a backstory of the in-game FG, not myself. If I wanted to write an autobiography, boring as it would be, I would. It'd end with "And then I bought City Of Heroes. You know the rest." However, the character of FG, his history, and how he does what he does, I found an interesting concept, and didn't want it to be about an orphaned acrobat. I certainly took liberties with what we concieve to be 'real', i.e a £60 billion lottery win. However, within the world of Co*, who's to say it isn't possible?

...Although I haven't received any replies yet about the latest chapter, I figured I'd beat you to the punch with some of them.

Who IS Corruptor??
Ah. Corruptor is, certainly, a figure from Jason's past. This armoured and masked male figure is very dangerous, and knows a lot more about Jason than anybody else, not just in Paragon, but anywhere. He's a worthy foe for someone who'll prove, eventually, to be a worthy hero.

It's Sammy, right?
Maybe. Maybe not. Corruptor called him "Jay", and yes, we've seen Sammy call Jason by that nickname. In rough drafts, Sammy's also used the terms [censored] wad, [censored] spewer, and (my personal favourite from an upcoming chapter) Wankenstein to describe our hero. "Jay" is a common nickname for people called 'Jason', so don't be surprised if it's someone else from Jason's past.

What exactly happened to Jason after he got shot?
Wait until chapter six.

Will we ever meet Emily, Pete, Mike Anson, one of Jason's relatives, or any of the known Superheroes?
Some we'll meet. Some we won't. After all, someone has to be the Corruptor.

Is there really a 'Brotherhood Of The Truth Of The Flame' supergroup?
Not yet. Give it time, and it might happen.

...That's pretty much it. I'd like, at this time, to thank everybody for their support, whether it's been public, like Kriedigan, or to the people who've PMed me their support.

The best is yet to come.

Chapter Five

It was not the response Infern had been expecting. At least, that’s what I figured out by the stunned expression on his face.
“Pardon me?”
“Take me home.” I repeated, a little less forcefully. “Look, Mr Infern, this is a little much to take in. I’m sure you’re doing some great things here, and I’m flattered you want me and Sammy to be Field Agents for you, but it isn’t for me.”
“Every young man wants to be a Superhero at some point in his life,” Infern tried reasoning. “I’m offering you a chance to live out that boyhood fantasy.”
“Can you make me fly?”
“Yes.”
“Can you give me Super Strength?”
“Absolutely.”
“Can you guarantee nothing will happen to my family if I get discovered?”
“Yes!” Infern was practically giddy. “That’s why a lot of Superheroes use secret identities.”
“And,” I followed up, “Can you bring Frank back to life?”

Silence.

“What?” Infern spluttered.
“You heard me. I’m not even one of your Field Agents yet, and already I’ve caused one death. If what you say is true, I may even be the cause of my own death, and Sammy’s. I can’t take that responsibility.”
“Mr Tucker,” Infern started. “We are at war with the darker aspects of society.”
“I didn’t ask to be a part of your war!” I shouted.
“You asked to be purified by The Truth!” Infern bellowed at me.
“I was trying to save my life!” I shot back. “I would have done or said anything to get out of there!”
Infern reeled back, as if I had struck him.
“Your life,” he stated, “Was never in danger. We do not kill. We don’t threaten, or intimidate. Every member of The Brotherhood is here because he or she wishes to be.”
I shook my head. Really, what could I say?
“We have men and women from all walks of life, to are sworn to uphold justice, and freedom. I’m sorry if you don’t want to be a part of it, but you’re refusing to see the larger picture.”
I said nothing. Infern took this as leave to continue.
“For hundreds of years, we have protected the people of this city, this country, and this world. Our Field Agents, rare as they are, are all of the highest quality. They undergo rigorous training, and all of them know the risks. They choose to fight because they want to believe that good people should be treated with respect, and dignity, and be safe.” Infern paused, and looked me right in the eye. “With your Foundation, Mr Tucker, you have shown that you believe in the same things.”
“It isn’t the same.”
“Isn’t it?” Infern smiled. “Why did you set up your Foundation? One that, I’d like to add, has provided homes, food, and clothing for thousands of widows, widowers, and orphans of the Rikti war.”
“I did it because…well…it was right.”
“And what we are doing here isn’t?”

I had a response planned. I was ready to argue, reason, and cajole with Infern, all until he saw my point of view. It didn’t matter to be if he agreed with me, but I wanted him to see things from my perspective.
Unfortunately, I never got the chance.

The room exploded.

---

Dozens of armoured men poured in from all directions, with dangerous looking, black guns, all glinting in the artificial lighting. Flames shot out through some of them, burning equipment, furniture, and workers alike. The lead man stopped in front of myself and Infern, and, although he wore a black helmet, he seemed to smile.
“So, Infern. This is your latest Agent?”
Infern drew himself up to his full height, as if nothing were happening around him. As if scores of his men weren’t being slaughtered before his eyes.
“Corruptor!” He spat. “Why have you violated this place?”
“I wished to meet with your friend from England,” this man…Corruptor…seemed to smirk. “And now I wish I hadn’t. He is unworthy of The Truth.”
“What do you know of The Truth? You and your friends cast that aside, you butchered and violated it.”
“So?” Corruptor shrugged. “Something else I’ll butcher and violate, Infern, is you. Unless you hand over your friend and his companion.”
“Never!” Infern yelled, and drew out a small metal cylinder from his pocket. Squeezing it gently, it erupted in flames, until it became a sword, made of fire. “This man is under my protection. Leave, now.”
“No”. And Corruptor’s gun spat out a single bullet, seemingly in slow motion, causing Infern to collapse on the ground, the fire sword cutting out.
Corruptor turned to face me. “And, as for you…you will know the pain of dying slowly, unless you tell me what I want to know.”
I ignored him, and went to Inferns’ aid. He was bleeding from a chest wound, the red casting a sickening colour on his grey suit.
“Promise me…” Infern coughed. “Promise me you’ll find The Truth within yourself…”
“I…I promise.”
Infern slipped the cylinder into my hand surreptitiously. “For The Truth.” He muttered, before he sagged in my arms.

I stood slowly, never taking my eyes off the man called Corruptor. “Are you ready to tell me what I want to know?” he asked.
“I…yes.”
“Good.” Corruptor lowered the gun. “Now…come with me, and nobody else need die.”
“Okay.”
Corruptor tilted his head, and although I couldn’t hear what he said, I was sure he was in radio communication with his troops. They all stopped fighting, and, to a man, turned and started to exit. When Corruptor turned to survey the damage he and his team had dealt, I saw my chance. Squeezing the cylinder, I leaped at Corruptor, swinging the fire sword at his head.

It was a beautiful swing. My aim, although I had never swung such an instrument before, was true, and the momentum I had built up by swinging a weapon with such little mass, was considerable. Corruptor didn’t stand a chance.

I was half right. Corruptor didn’t stand.

Ducking with such speed I didn’t know existed, he sent a kick at my midsection, knocking the air out of me, and plunging me back, so I stumbled against the body of Infern. When I tried to stand, he levelled his gun at me.
“No, please….don’t!”

Corruptor wasn’t, seemingly, in a forgiving mood. His gun rained bullets upon me.

Has anyone here ever been shot? No? Well, I wouldn’t recommend it. I heard the bullets, and although I felt a sharp stinging in my legs, and I saw the blood spurt out of my damaged knees, I couldn’t quite latch on to the realisation of what had happened. When I tried to stand again, I found I couldn’t. Not that I didn’t want to. Not because I was too weak to stand. Quite simply, I couldn’t stand up, because I had no more legs to stand with.

I want you to understand, dear reader, that, yes I’m being quite clinical in what I write here. This isn’t to say I didn’t feel angry, or hurt. Oh, I was in agony. The type you can only feel when you violently lose two limbs – two essential body parts that provide the only form of locomotion we inherently possess. However, I believe that, as it happened, I was in shock. Although I was in pain, the shock dampened a lot of the emotions I felt going through this. I apologise for my clinical viewpoint, however, I don’t remember, to this day, a lot of the emotions I went through. Whether I honestly can’t remember it, or whether my mind chooses not to, isn’t something I can attest to. Nor is it something I want to. Lack of blood, combined with such a violent action being performed on me…it was surreal. As I have said before, the Rikti war never really affected me in a personal way. None of my family died, and with the exception of Emily leaving me for a soldier, no bad things happened to be concerning the war. The only major life change, in fact, was when the lottery made me stupendously rich. Those two events, the lottery and Emily leaving me, were the only two events concerning my personal life, and the war. And now, years later, with the Rikti threat all but gone, with life returning to normal…I was left paralysed. That sort of thing should never happen.

I stared up at Corruptor. The world was getting darker, but I could see enough to know that he was leaning over me. My face in the reflection of his mask’s visor was one I barely recognised. I had never seen such fear in anybody’s face, and now it was being shown back at me.

I heard a click, as Corruptor did something to his weapon, and a pilot light burst into flame in front of the barrel. Somehow…even though I was losing blood, and quite probably my life, I knew what had happened. I knew what Corruptor planned to do.
However, I didn’t know what he was going to say. There was no way I could have known. Even above the roar of the flames left by his troopers, the spluttering death of the computer banks around me, or even my own screams, I still heard Corruptors words, and they’ll haunt me until the day I die.

“Goodbye, Jay.”

Then his gun erupted into fire, spewing it over everything that didn’t move, including me. I felt a brief flash of heat, combined with intense light, and then the world dissolved into sweet oblivion.

[ QUOTE ]
FG, I believe that some people in this world have far too much talent. I also believe that you are one of those people!

This was compelling - a sheer joy to read and I am eager to see the next instalment. Considering that you are ill at the moment, what you have written here is all the more impressive!

Well done. Now wake up and get typing, before your muse disappears with your flu!

[/ QUOTE ]

Kried, thanks. Although, I'm hardly someone with far too much talent. I can write, I can sing, I play multiple instruments, and I can act. Beyond that, however, there's nothing. For example, I can't dance to save my life. Compared with dozens of people I went to college and University with, I'm actually pretty talentless. Although, as Sammy might say, were he real "Yeah, [censored], and they looked DAAAAMN fine in spandex!".

Regardless, I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and more will be on the way. Today will be the last day I can do daily updates, though, as I'm back at work tomorrow morning, and won't get any time off until Wednesday. That said, the plot, and the action, will definately be picking up the pace from this moment on.

Chapter Four

Infern was silent throughout the car ride. I was surprised, if grateful, for the fact that none of that nonsense that happens in movies seemed to be true. We were already a few blocks from the park before I realised that nobody had asked me to put on a blindfold, or sit in the trunk of the car. The Chauffeur had opened the door for me, and whilst he looked at me, he never looked into my eyes. Although I had very little experience with a Chauffeur (and, to be honest, I doubted I would. Paying somebody to perform a service I can do for myself has always seemed a little too snobbish) it was nice to experience. At least, for once.

The only real surprise was when we drove right past the Museum. I turned my head to watch it go past my window, and turned to Infern, a question, no doubt, on my face.

Infern just smiled and tapped his nose in that infuriating ‘I have a secret’ way that only spies in the movies, and the melodramatic, have. When we eventually pulled up in front of a building, I can’t believe nobody had ever noticed it before, or, at least, visitors from the Museum making a connection between the two Heroes I had noticed and this building.

For one thing, it was a cathedral.

For another, it had a freaking huge stone version of the Emblem on it, covering both doors.

As I got out of the car (unassisted, I’d like to point out, by the driver) and moved to the doors, I shot another look at Infern. He just chuckled. “Mr Tucker, people in Paragon City only see what they wish to see.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I thought about all I knew about Paragon City, and it’s inhabitants. “Do you mean that this church is magically protected, so that people who aren’t actively looking for it won’t see it? Or maybe that you have it protected so that it can only be seen by people you wish it to see?”
Infern shook his head. “No, not at all. The church is protected by something a lot more powerful than any magic. History. Nobody in this place cares about history, unless it’s the history of Statesman, or any of the more recognised Superheroes.” He walked up to the door, and knocked on it.
“Religion is dead in Paragon City. Everybody looks to Superheroes as their new Gods, with Wicca, or Science as their tools upon the world. Nobody cares about what this church holds behind these doors, and frankly, we like it that way.”
The doors opened, and Infern slipped inside. After staring after him for a moment, I shrugged, and followed him.

The cathedral was…much like any other. Wooden pews, stain glass windows, an alter at the front. Infern waited for me by the confessional booths, and waved me over.
“Whilst I realise you are on a vacation, Mr Tucker, the time of the Brotherhood is somewhat more limited than yours. Please, step this way.”
Upon reaching the booth, I tried to restrain a big grin. “Don’t tell me…secret passageways hidden in the confessionals?”
“What?” Infern stared at me. “How on earth would people get out in a hurry? Don’t be ridiculous.” And he pushed open a large door next to the booth.

Oh.
Well, a guy can dream, can’t he?

“Stop thinking about make-believe, Mr Tucker.” Infern said simply, as he led me down a large, stone, spiralled staircase. “This isn’t a movie. This isn’t some dime-store pulp novel, and it isn’t a computer game.”
What?
Infern continued, “The Brotherhood of the Truth Of The Flame is very much based in reality. We have a mission, yes, and we do our work in secret. However, we don’t rely on secret codes to recognise one another, we don’t believe in assassinating people to hide our secrets, and we are not,” Infern paused in front of a large wooden door at the bottom of the stairs, “We are not some science fiction TV show.”
He threw open the door, to reveal a basement, covered wall to wall in computer banks, teleporters, and massive LCD screens.
I turned to look at Infern. He shrugged, and went inside.

---

A few hours later, I was still reeling in shock at everything Infern had told me.

The Brotherhood was a centuries old group, that assisted in every aspect of life in Paragon City. It reached all the way to the mayors office, and trickled down to the garbage men. It kept tabs on all the Superheroes, but not, I was assured, for any nefarious purpose. That’s a direct quote from Infern, by the way. ‘Nefarious purpose’. Part shadow government, part NSA, and part sociological experiment. They had, over due course, helped the Knights Templar, the OSS, and now Superheroes, and had, through technological advances, even sent out Superheroes themselves.
“Not ‘Superheroes’,” Infern had corrected me. “Field Agents.”

Apparently, though, the resources of the Brotherhood weren’t all reaching. Only one Field Agent had gone out at any one time, and was replaced when the previous one died, or retired. Also apparently, the ratio of dead agents to retired ones was quite one sided. I only had one question. And no, it isn’t the question you’re all thinking of.

“What about Frank?”
“Frank…” Infern sighed. “Frank was an unfortunate accident. You must believe me, Mr Tucker, we had nothing to do with Frank’s demise.”
“What about that giant knife sticking into his chest?” I asked. “That certainly looked like one of yours.”
“The history of The Brotherhood tells that many years ago, when Superheroes were first discovered to be real, and living in Paragon City, some of us wanted to exterminate them, instead of helping them. They broke away from the main, and formed a splinter group. We don’t know what they are called, or what their beliefs are. We do know, however, that they want nothing less than the total obliteration of any of the Super powered citizens in Paragon.” Infern sighed, and shook his head. “We do know a few things, however. One, they operate to the same ways we do, in that they always have only one field agent at any one time. If anything, they have less money than we do. Secondly, they wish to sow mistrust and confusion. And third, they have probably targeted you, as well as Mr Edwards, as possible members of The Brotherhood.”
“Me and Sammy?” I stared. “We only just got here!”
“The Brotherhood, although based in Paragon City, has members from throughout the world. Plus, don’t forget, the Splinter group has no idea as to our resource issues. They see a wealthy young man, living in a penthouse suite of an expensive hotel, meeting with the known leader of The Brotherhood Of The Truth, and will draw assumptions that you are a member. A highly placed one, at that.”
“So…what do I do?”
Infern studied me for a long moment. “I say we make their belief a reality.”
“What?”
Infern smiled. “You told me last night that you wished to seek The Truth of The Flame. Certainly, you uncovered part of our secrets when you saw the costumes of The Protectorate and The Defender. I wish you to take up the mantle, as it were, of their legacies. Become our newest Field Agents; both you and Mr Edwards. Be the guardians of The Truth.”

Silence.

Me, a Field Agent for these people?
Or, to ask another way, and certainly what Sammy would say, ‘Me, a secret agent, fighting crime alongside Superheroes? Protecting them from whatever dangers lie ahead? [censored], [censored], sign me [censored] up for that [censored]!’
No matter what Sammy may or may not say, I couldn’t speak for him. Although, I noted to myself, I had probably gotten the number of expletives correct.
Regardless of what Sammy might want, the more I thought about it, the more my answer would make sense in the long run. And, I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, there was only one answer I could possibly give in the face of this news, and I maintain, to this day, that it was the right one.

“Take me home.”

Chapter Three

The police took statements from myself and Sammy, and left the hotel room, not promising anything. It looked like a routine burglary gone wrong, or so they said. It was somewhat bizarre, how they could call a man pinned six feet up a wall with a knife through his chest ‘routine’, but I suppose this city has seen a lot worse, in its’ day. Sammy was pale, and I’m guessing he was in shock. I doubt I looked much better.
“That was sick and wrong.” He moaned, curled up on his bed. “How could they just shrug it off like that?”
I made a remark, echoing my thoughts about how the bizarre was normal in Paragon City, and Sammy said nothing. He just…lay there. Not saying anything. Just breathing. Despite all that had happened, the mere thought that Sammy was silent was scarier than anything else that could have happened. I got up, and turned on the coffee percolator. Sammy and I had made a tacit agreement that, money aside, the mini-bar was off limits.
“How can you be so calm?” Sammy shot at me, his sudden foray into speaking startling me. “And why didn’t you tell the police…”
He trailed off. I knew what he was going to say, however, and asked the question myself.
Why didn’t I tell the police about the men in robes?

---

We stood there, gaping at Franks’ body. Impaled by a large knife…a sword, really…it hung there, against the wall, sagging against gravity. His eyes were frozen in place, and I thought I caught a hint of fear in them.
It was Sammy, unsurprisingly, who spoke first.
“Let’s get the [censored] out of here, man.” And he turned, as if daring me to convince him to stay. Hell, no.
We turned to run, when something stopped us. Many somethings, actually. In the silence we had found ourselves in, we never noticed the dozen or so robed men surround us, in a semi-circle. We were trapped between them, and Frank’s body. In the darkness, I could barely make out the robes’ shapes and colours – but I could tell they were two different colours, albeit both dark. The man in the centre of the formation took a step forward.
“You are not welcome here.” He spoke in a clipped, precise accent. “You two have no place in the plans we have made.”
“Yeah?” Sammy was practically screaming. “Well [censored] you, man. You gonna kill us both, too? [censored] come on, then!”
The robed man took another step forward, and stood on the fringe of a light fixture, so that it barely cast its’ glow on his black and red robe. It did, however, pick out a large emblem on his chest. An open flame, shining in red and yellow.
The emblem of The Truth of The Flame! I realised.
“Wait!” I shouted, as the man pulled out a large knife, identical to the one that had killed poor Frank. He paused, and waited for me to speak.
“We….we…” I stumbled. Really, what could I say that would prevent Sammy and I from dying in scant minutes?
“We seek the Truth of The Flame.” I blurted out. Really? What was I thinking?
What truth would that be? My little internal Sammy mocked me. The truth of how to get turned into a [censored] Shish Kebab?
My words, unintended as they were, seemed to have an effect on the men. They all froze in place, and the central man, the man who I guessed (correctly, as it turns out) was their leader, turned his full attention to me.
“And what would you know of The Truth of The Flame?”

Oh, bugger.

“We seek it’s…cleansing.”
“Cleansing?” The man seemed vaguely amused.
“Cleansing?” Sammy squeaked at me.
“Fire burns,” I continued, hoping against sheer hope that my words weren’t sentencing myself and Sammy to death. “It burns, and it purifies. We wish to be purified by the Truth.”

Silence. Then, very slowly, the man put his knife back in its’ sheath. “So you have searched, so you have found.” He turned to the others. “Brothers and sisters, two men have pleaded to discover the Truth. What say you?”
Sammy turned to me, and tilted his head. I shrugged, as subtly as I could. Before the others in the semi-circle could say anything, however, a flashing light caught my eye, seconds before a small robot, which I later learned was a Police Drone, burst in through a window, siren wailing.
Sammy, as succinct as ever, summed up what he believed was the best course of action.
“CHEESE IT!”

Poor Sammy got all of three feet before the Police Drone blasted him with a stun ray, knocking him into unconsciousness.

When I looked back from watching Sammy crumple to the floor, the robed men had all vanished.

---

“I don’t know,” I said, as a reply to Sammy’s question. “But I’m sure the police will find out about them anyway, from reviewing the Drone’s memory. And when they do, they’ll catch them.”
“Good.” Sammy said, rolling onto his back. “My head hurts, I’m gonna try and sleep.”
“Okay, mate.” I nodded. I need to go clear my head. I’ll be back in a bit.” Pouring a cup of black coffee into a paper cup, I silently made my way out of the suite.

---

I had gotten as far as Atlas Park…and really, it gives an amazing view of dawn, with the oranges and reds slowly making their way over the dome of City Hall, and over the giant globe held by the statue of Atlas. As I sat there, on a park bench enjoying the view, and watching the occasional Superhero make their way into City Hall, or talk with Ms Liberty (doesn’t she have a home to go to?) I realised that I was no longer alone.

The man next to me wore a grey silk suit, a black shirt, and a grey tie. It seems to go well with his hair, which was, believe it or not, grey. His glasses were slipping down past his nose, and had to constantly be pushed up.
“Good morning, Mr Tucker.”
I wasn’t in the mood for any games. In the space of under 12 hours, I had discovered a Superhero cult, gotten a man killed, was nearly killed by the same cult, and now I was being harassed by a man who didn’t understand anything that wasn’t monochromatic? No thank you.
“[censored] off.” I grunted.
“Now, why would I want to do that?” The man’s clipped voice sounded familiar, but in the post-coffee, high stress buzz I found myself in, I couldn’t place it.
“My name, Mr Tucker, is Jenson Infern. I am the curator of the Paragon City Museum, and I have wanted a face to face conversation with you for some time, now.”
“Look, Mr Infern,” I sighed. “I’m really not in the mood for all this [censored].”
“Of course, Mr Tucker.” Infern stood slowly, and brushed his hands against his trousers. “Go back to your Foundation. You’ve done some good work there.”
Infern started to move away, and I sighed and shook my head. Where-ever you go, there’s always someone wanting to take your money. Especially when you’re a multi-billionaire…

Wait.

“Mr Infern…” I called after the man. He turned, with a half-smile on his face.
“Yes, Mr Tucker?”
“How did you…I mean…only two people in the world, apart from me, know I own The Tucker Foundation. And only one of them knows I’m here.”
“Ahh.” Infern smiled. “You wish to know how I know your secret?”
I nodded dumbly. However, whatever reply I was expecting…Sammy boasting about it in the club, or Mike Anson sending a private investigator after me, it certainly wasn’t the one I got.
“There’s an old phrase, Mr Tucker, which you may find interesting. ‘The Truth shall set you free’.”

The Truth.

They knew my name. They knew what I looked like, and they knew who I was. Seeing my somewhat stunned expression, Mr Infern, beckoned me to follow him towards a large town car. “Do you still seek The Truth, Mr Tucker? Or, as you so colourfully put it, do you wish to be ‘purified’?”
I didn’t even hesitate. “I do.”

“Then follow me.”

Chapter Two

It…was…incredible. The sights! The sounds! Those statues…I swear, Sammy loved those statues. He even asked me to buy him one. I shook my head, and politely pointed out we’d have no place to keep it.
“Please?” He whined like a little girl on a family outing. “If I can’t get my harem, at least give me a giant statue of a female superhero.”
“Why?”
“Massive stone boobs, m’man. Massive stone boobs.”

Sammy. Such a pervert.

“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 to City Hall.”
“Why?”
“There’s supposed to be a huge group of Superheroes who meet every night at 9 pm under the Galaxy Girl statue.”
I checked my watch. “Sammy…it’s not even noon.”
“So?” Sammy shrugged, and flicked through the Tour Book we had picked up in the Atlas Park monorail giftshop. “We can get good seats. According to this book, it’s a huge tourist attraction.”
“Which means there’ll be Hellions nearby, ready to mug us.” I reasoned. Sammy, however, would not be dissuaded.
“Who’d be dumb enough to mug us with Superheroes around? I mean, even if we got mugged, we’d be rescued. Probably by a cute Heroine.”
“We’re not getting there nine hours before…wait.”
“What?” Sammy grinned slightly.
“That’s your plan, isn’t it? Get mugged. You’re going to get all aggro in some mugger’s face, so you get rescued by some lithe Superheroine in tight spandex, and swoon all over her.”
“No!” Sammy’s blushing face, however, told another story.
“We’ll go eventually. We’re here for a week, after all. But not nine hours before it starts.”
Sammy sighed. “Okay. So, what’re we going to do?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged at him. “I wouldn’t mind going on a tour-bus.”
Sammy checked the tour-guide. “Apparently, there aren’t any busses.”
“What?”
“It’s a long story. Statesman banned all busses.”
I spluttered. “That’s just….manifestly….dumb.” I checked the street, and pointed a little further down the road. “Look at that! A bus stop. What’s it there for?”
Sammy turned the page, and laughed. “Apparently, newer Superheroes fly into them. Clear Perspex, and all that.”
I shook my head. “Idiots. Well, we’ll have to walk. I’d quite like to go to the Paragon Museum.”
“No. Let’s hit this ‘Pocket D’ club I keep reading about.”
“Let’s split up, then. I’ll hit the museum, and you go dance.”
Sammy froze. “Split up? What’re you talking about?”
“Well…you go one way, I go another.”
Sammy raised an eyebrow at me. “You just don’t want to go to a club. All that loud music.”
I shrugged. “It isn’t really my thing.”
He laughed at me. “Rubbing shoulders with hot and sweaty Superheroes? How often do you see a Superhero, anyway?”
I looked up, and gestured for Sammy to follow suit. There, overhead, was a group of flying Heroes. One was decked out in a toga, and a cape. He waved down to us as he sped along with his group.
“Dude…” Sammy started.
“Yeah?”
“I could see up his toga. He wasn’t wearing any underwear.”
“…Why did you look?”
Sammy slapped me across the back of the head. “I didn’t. It was just…there.”
I laughed. “okay, okay. But I still think we should split up. I’ll meet you at City Hall at 7pm. We’ll grab some dinner, and head back to watch the meeting.”
“But what if I get mugged?”
I thought about it for a second. “Wear some expensive aftershave, and hope you don’t get rescued by a guy.”
“Yeah, baby!”

---

The Paragon Museum was quite interesting. At least, it was more interesting than if Sammy would have been there, spouting comments about the fallibility of Superheroes who had died. For someone who had a great love of Superheroines, he had no respect for the deceased Heroes and Heroines who had given up their lives to protect others. Then again, Sammy was never the most selfless person in the world. Take here, for instance. I was reading some blurb about a Hero who called himself, quite simply, The Fire Protectorate. Seems he was a low level Scrapper who was one of the many who died during the initial Rikti attack. On the high neck of his red and black costume, he wore a tiny emblem of a red and yellow open flame. The emblem, or so the information by the mannequin said, represented what was called ‘The Truth Of The Flame’. That was it. No more information on what The Truth Of The Flame was. I could almost hear Sammy snickering in my head.
“The truth of the flame is that it’s hot. Like the Heroines you’re missing out on at the club.”
I scowled at my reflection in the Perspex display. Sammy had, as of late, seemingly loaned his voice to my internal monologue. I shook my head, and carried on through the museum, which was surprisingly quiet, considering the time of day. I moved on throughout the museum, reading volumes upon volumes of information about Statesman, when something caught my eye. I turned, and saw another display, of a female Hero, who was dressed, once again, in red and black. I moved closer, and read her name.

The Fire Defender. And this one, too, had the exact same emblem of a red and yellow flame on her costume. This time, there was one on each of her black leather gloves. Once again, there was a referral to her following ‘The Truth Of The Flame’, but no reference to what this truth was.
I wandered until I found a museum worker, and asked him.
“ ‘The Truth Of The Flame’?” He shrugged at me. “I’ve never heard of it, I’m afraid.” I showed him the costumes of The Fire Defender, and The Fire Protectorate, and he seemed slightly nonplussed. “These two Heroes never worked together. In fact, this one,” as he gestured to the female Defender, “Died before the other became a Hero.”
“So, what?” I mused. “I’ve discovered some underground Superhero Conspiracy Theory?”
The worker smiled slightly. “You know…it’s quite possible. I can’t believe nobody’s ever noticed this before.” He was getting quite excited, which was a refreshing change of pace from Sammy’s total lack of caring about the departed Heroes. Taking in the time, I saw it was almost time to meet up with Sammy at City Hall. I looked at the man’s namebadge. “Look…Frank. I need to go meet up with a friend of mine. I’d love to know more about this, though.”
Frank nodded. “Absolutely. I need to speak to the curator about this find. Is there a way I can contact you?”
“I’m just visiting Paragon for the week.” Without second thought, I reached into my wallet, and pulled out a business card, handing it over. “I can be contacted at this phone number 24/7.”
Frank thanked me, and pulled out his phone, as I walked towards the door.
“Hello, Mr Infern? It’s Frank, from level two. One of our museum guests has spotted something quite remarkable…”

---

“So, how was Stiffsville?” Sammy grinned at me over his pizza.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Stiffsville. The museum.”
“Oh, I thought you were referring to the nightclub. I imagine you got a little…excited.”
Sammy glared at me, which was, sadly for him, difficult to pull off with a mouth full of what the pizzeria called its’ “Cement Shoe Special”.
“Actually, the museum was quite interesting. I think I made a discovery about some underground Superhero cult.”
Sammy laughed, his mouth wide open. It was amazingly disgusting. “Only you, Jay, could take a holiday and turn it into something ‘fascinating’. As for me…I had a great time.”
“Oh?”
Sammy shrugged. “Well, until I found out the Hero I was flirting with was actually some super-strong ninja Villain, who put me in a dancing cage and left me there.” He sighed. “Oh, Sarriss…”
“Okay. Well, do you want to head out to this mass meeting under the statue?”
Sammy immediately perked up. “Yes. Yes, yes yes. Definitely.”
I paid the bill, and we got up to leave, just before my phone started to ring.
“Hello?”
“Mr Tucker? It’s Frank, from the museum. This is…incredible. Please, you have to come and meet me right away.”
“Okay. Where are you?”
Frank had never left the museum, so we hurried out (Well, I hurried. Sammy just moaned about how he’d miss all the Heroes) to the Museum, which, thankfully, was just a few blocks away. Rushing through Atlas Park, we did, as it happens, pass by that meeting Sammy wanted to see. I took a direct route past City Hall. Naturally, Sammy being Sammy, ran straight through the meeting.
“Ladies…” he crowed. “Super Civilian coming through!”
I stopped and turned, catching all the expressions of shock, amusement, and disgust on the faces of the Heroes. “Move it, Sammy!”
He scowled, and hurried after me.

When we got to the Museum, we saw that hurrying wasn’t particularly necessary.
It wouldn’t have made Frank any less dead.

[ QUOTE ]
And there's ANOTHER track - where?

[/ QUOTE ]

There's actually three.

The Paragon Song Trilogy

Shock! Gasp! Horror! I'm not singing? I'm not even rapping? Alas, with this flu, I decided I wanted to try something different, and with my throat being buggered up, vocal creativity is far from my mind.

---

Author’s note:

It is a sad truth of life, dear reader, that people swear. Granted, some may swear more than others, but everybody, at some time, utters the odd expletive. I warn you, there will be swearing in this story, but never gratuitously – if someone in this story swears, it’s as a natural process throughout their thoughts and characterisation. I make no apologies for this fact. The characters write themselves, I just lend them the hands to do it with.

- The Fire Guardian, 2006


Into The Inferno

Prologue

The only person who was surprised when I won the lottery was me.

No, that’s a terrible way to start. Let me try again. In the days, weeks, months, and eventually years since the Rikti threat had vanished, people had to hold on to hope. As we struggled to rebuild our lives, as well as our homes, jobs, and various other aspects of ourselves, the world, as a whole, came to an understanding. It was decreed that, yes, we had gone through some bad patches. (Personally, I always loved that particular US President’s penchant for understating the obvious. World War 2 was ‘a bad patch’? The thousands upon thousands of people who died when the skies opened up and the Rikti poured out was simply ‘an unfortunate incident’? Please.) However, the time was ripe for a new world, a new way of life, ad nauseum, ad nauseam.

The town I lived in, Hitchin, wasn’t nearly as badly hit as metropolitan areas. Sure, we had the odd assault team led through, as the people hid in quickly and shoddily built underground bunkers, but apart from that, life was, more or less, normal. Certain aspects of our lives were no longer available to us, though. The National Lottery, or Lotto as it had been called as of late, had transformed itself into a War Assistance effort. We paid our money, and the government co-opted it into more tanks, planes, weapons, etc. None of us minded, either. It was a chance for us ‘little people’ to do our part for the fighting boys. However, with the war over, and our money being put to use re-building, there was a new hope on the horizon. One of peace. Eventually, of course, the Lottery returned, and with it, we all saw a new hope that life, on the whole, was finally returning to normal.

Everybody played. And I mean absolutely everybody. Not just people in England, but all over, from America to Zimbabwe. Every single person who could, put in a pound, a dollar, a Euro, a Yen, nobody caring about the exchange rates. There was even talk about a unified worldwide currency being decided upon, to further show our united front. The total sum of the Lottery win was, in Pound Sterling, just about sixty billion. 12 numbers were played, instead of the UK’s usual six, to further increase the odds. As it turns out, the increased odds, meant to spread the wealth around more, meant there was only one winner.

The only person who was surprised when I won the lottery…was me.

Chapter One

“Son of a [censored]!” Sammy yelled in my ear the day after I won. Outside of my immediate family, he was the only person I had told about winning. “I mean…you *******! Christ, Jay. Sixty billion pounds. What’re we going to do with all that cash?”
I shook my head at Sammy’s exuberance. “Firstly, we’re going to do nothing with it. I won the jackpot, so I decide what gets done with it.”
“Fine. At least…buy me a harem?” Sammy’s eyes shone with excitement.

My plans for the money itself were relatively simple, although Sammy thought I was being an idiot. Firstly, I was donating millions of pounds back into charities, especially the ones that had set themselves up to help war orphans. They took my money anonymously, but extremely gratefully. I had even contacted a lawyer (why were none of those vile creatures wiped out by the Rikti, I mused after one meeting) to get them all banded under one name. The lawyer, some landshark called Mike Anson, had jumped at the chance, and named it ‘The Tucker Foundation’. That’s after me, by the way, boys and girls. Jason Tucker. The aforementioned Jay. 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 humanitarian effort, without the irritability of my face being shown on TV and newspapers, as “That Multi-Billionaire”. At least I was putting my money to good use. Nobody could ever accuse me of being a skinflint.

“You [censored]’ Skinflint.” Sammy growled. It had been three months since I had won. “Give me my Harem!”
“Sammy…” I started. “You’re not getting a Harem.”
“Please? I’ve always wanted a harem of Blonde Swedish Supermodel Superheroes.”
Superheroes were a big thing for Sammy. We’d grown up in a world of Statesman, Hero One, and The Liberty girls, and to us, they were the superstars of the world. Who wanted to watch a movie about a man in red and blue spandex kissing redheads, when there were real heroes out there? Sammy had, for a few years, kept a life-sized poster of War Witch on his bedroom door.
As for me, I was beginning to understand why so many of them wanted to hide in obscurity. Day after day, I received letters begging for help. Eventually, I had them all re-directed to The Tucker Foundation, and whilst the majority of the people were refused (one letter that stuck in my mind was a man who simply couldn’t go on without a new Ferrari) one or two were helped out as best we could do.

I mentally ticked off what I had done with the money against a checklist I had formulated.

Help those less fortunate? Check.
Set up a trust fund for my best friend’s son? Check.
Buy my relatives new homes? Check.
Win back Emily?

Well, okay, I wasn’t 100% complete on that checklist. I couldn’t help myself. I sighed softly. Sammy glanced over at my direction, still in mid-rant about Superheroines, and their ‘enhanced stamina’, and stopped.
“Get over her.”
“What?” I feigned ignorance. Not that it ever worked with Samuel Edwards, one of my closest, if most irritating, friends.
“Emily. She’s gone. She dumped your [censored]. Hell, when she found out that you won the lottery, did she come crawling back?”
“Well…she doesn’t know.”
“What?” Sammy was flabbergasted. I mean that seriously, too. His Flabber was well and truly Gasted. “How does she not know?”
I shook my head. “You’re the least observant person in the world, aren’t you? Do you realise that my name has never been used as ‘the lottery winner’? I kept out of the press.”
“But..” Sammy tried to reason. “Those letters. What about The Tucker Foundation?”
“The letters get delivered to The Tucker Foundation, and they get to me that way. As for the name…how many people in the world do you think are called Tucker?”
“Good point. But, still…if you told her you were the winner, she’d come back.”
“I don’t want her that way. I don’t buy affection.”
“Still…it works.”
I reeled around and glared at Sammy. “Are you calling my Emmy a [censored]?”
Sammy stared at me for a few seconds.

“Jay, mate. She isn’t yours anymore.”

There was a harsh truth in his words. A few weeks into the war, Emily had met a soldier, part of one of the assault team that had passed through town, called Pete. She dumped me unceremoniously the next day, declaring I wasn’t doing my bit. She signed up to fight alongside him, and I never heard from her again.
I shook my head, clearing myself from the funk that threatened to overwhelm me.

“I need a holiday.”
“Cool. Where’re we going?”

Good question. The whole world was open to me…us, I supposed. Sammy had as much right to be by my side as anyone else. There was, it turns out, only one place I wanted to go, and Sammy, to no surprise, wanted to go as much as me, if not more.

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

[ QUOTE ]
hence it being the RL GG meet up.

[/ QUOTE ]

Yeah, I did wonder about the name.

Hmm. Is this meet-up for the RPers only, or can anyone gate-crash?

I liked it, but I agree with Innigo. As a backstory or an introduction to a tale, it's certainly passable, however, as a standalone, it seems particularly short. Keep it up, though, and I'd love to see what happens.