Fire_Guardian_EU

No, that's cool with me. I'll edit my post to put you in.

[ QUOTE ]
I'd be willing to play almost any AT if people have their heart set on something, but would like either the blaster/tanker role.

[/ QUOTE ]

Well, as I say, it's first come, first served, so the first person to get a claim in will have that role.

[ QUOTE ]
Can you expand on what you mean FG? It certainly sounds very interesting.

[/ QUOTE ]

Sure thing, Frogue.

The basis behind my thoughts on this was basically borne of the fact that the Devs intended for CoH to be a team-based game - witness the fact that it's an MMO, rather than a single playered game. Who here has ever joined PuG where someone keeps spamming "lol we have four blasters and a scrapper"? I know I have. With the five standard ATs, and the two 'Epics', we could put together a team where each player has a set role within it - personally, I'd like to see what would happen.

To make things more interesting, I'd quite like anyone willing to join to feel free to go ahead and pick whatever powersets they want. If this is a team-based game, then every AT should work in conjunction with every other, no matter what sets get chosen. I know in practice, this isn't always the case, but it should be an interesting little test.

After a short chat in the Forumite Global, I've decided to form a team of players, who will meet once a week (I'm thinking Friday nights, from 8pm GMT) with all new alts representing a generic AT. Each team-mate will take one particular AT, and run with it - just to see the effectiveness of the game when it's equally representative of the types of Heroes we can create in-game. Sadly, this means we can only have a total of seven people join in, so it's a first come, first served basis.

If you want to join in, add your name to the list below:

Blaster
Frozen Rogue
Controller
Primaxi
Defender
Fire Guardian
Scrapper
MaXimillion
Tanker
X
Peacebringer
Cynic
Warshade
Stasis

Hidden got a 50. Woo.

Chapter Four

C

TEMPLE/JASON

Jason and Sammy hurried outside the Tucker Building, looking for any signs of….anything.
“So, you’re saying you must have come back from the future?”
“Sure.” Jason shrugged. “It’s the only possible explanation. I came back in time, and…”
“And what, Dad?” Sammy spun on his heels as they walked, to face him. “Kidnap your wife for reasons unknown?”
Jason blinked. “I had to have a reason.”
“Such as?”
Jason shook his head. “I don’t know. But, whatever it is, it must be important.”
Sammy snorted. “Sure. Important to him, but what about you?”
“He is me, Sammy. Maybe he’s misguided, maybe I turn evil at some point…I don’t know. My point is, we won’t know until we find this future me.”
Jason stalked off into the darkness, alone.
Sammy sighed, and shook his head. “…I was sired by an idiot.”
He raced to catch up with Jason. “Have you considered another possibility?”
“Such as?”
“Dad…I watched you die. And now, you’re telling me that this future you didn’t die, but travelled through time anyway, for the sole purpose of kidnapping your...his wife, and taunting you about it?” He shook his head. “It isn’t possible.”
“Well, what else could it be?”
“I don’t know, either.” They reached the Base Portal. “Let’s go ask Sam. Maybe he has an idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who…who are you?”
“Why, I’m you, of course. Haven’t you figured out what all this is about by now?”
Jason shook his head.
“Well, then. Let me enlighten you.” He paused, and his smirk grew wider. “Firstly, my name. You can call me…Temple.”
Jason stood opposite his doppelganger, staring. His ‘twin’….Temple, stood easily, relaxed, watching Jason with amusement in his eyes.

Jason shivered, as his other self…this Dark Mirror…took a deep breath, and, using Jason’s voice, began to tell his story.
--Excerpt from The Guardian Stories: Reunion

I sat down at the meeting table, gesturing for Sammy to do likewise. He sat next to me, and I held out my hand, waiting for this…duplicate of me who called himself ‘Temple’ to tell his tale.

“Jason,” He began, pulling out a chair opposite me, and steepling his fingers. “What do you know, exactly, about the Theory of Relativity?”
“Very little.” I shrugged. “It isn’t exactly a field of speciality for me.”
“For me either.” Temple shrugged, and grinned slightly. “Of course, I’ve had to learn, as part of my job.”
“Job?”
“Yes.” Temple nodded, and looked me right in the eye. I tried to suppress a shiver. It was a truly…disjointed feeling, looking at someone who looked and sounded just like you, but carried themselves in a way you never dreamt you would.
“I’ll get to that in a bit. Now, the Theory of Relativity, as we know it, is actually two theories, not one. General Relativity, and Specialised Relativity. The theory of General Relativity states that, for wont of a better way of putting it, that all matter in the universe…whether a particle of sand, a building…even you and me, this table, everything in this base, curves Spacetime.”
Sammy looked up. “Spacetime?”
“Spacetime is where all physical events take place, in a nutshell. One Spacetime area would be, say, the orbit of the Earth around the sun. However, since that’s Space, and not time, another would be, to make another example, Jason winning the lottery.”

I frowned. “So, how many of these ‘Spacetimes’ are there?”
“Oh, an infinite number. The really good part, however, is that you have to factor, into those Spacetimes, the fact that our presence…warps them. Curves them, and distorts them slightly. Each Spacetime is unique, and can’t be duplicated exactly.”
I was catching on. “Because…we can’t occupy more than one place at any one time?”
Temple smiled. “Exactly.”
“But you’re here.” Sammy frowned. “So you are occupying more than one place at one time.”
Temple shook his head. “In a purely genetic way, then yes, that’s certainly true. Both your father and myself share the same DNA…the same remarkable good looks.”
He chuckled, and I didn’t like the sound. He sounded far too pleased with himself. ‘Surely I’m not that vain.’
“However, on a Quantum level, we’re radically different.”
“A what?”
Temple sighed, and leaned back in his chair. “Well, now we’re getting to the heart of the matter. You see…without going too much into it, the Revised Theory of Specialised Relativity postulates that, just as there are an infinite number of Spacetimes, there are an infinite number of universes to contain them.”
Sammy and I exchanged a look, before I turned back to Temple. “You’re talking about Parallel Universes.”
“Yes, exactly.” Temple’s face, although never losing the smile, tightened somewhat. “And you said that you didn’t know much about the Theory.
“Suppose, my friends, that you could travel to other worlds. Journey to see alien civilisations, people from radically different cultures.
“Would you do it?”
I stared at him blankly. Part of me wanted to deny him this, yet…it intrigued me.

“Of course you would. Mankind has always been curious, ready to explore the strange and unknown at the drop of a hat. However, I’m not referring to the travel between stars, no crossing the great void known to us as space. The great unknown depths of the cosmos hold no real secrets, not even in a universe of limitless possibilities. There is no need to endanger yourself, wrapped in a ship made of steel and composites, surviving on recycled air and tasteless dried foods, of hooking yourself into an abominable apparatus which is part seat and part vacuum cleaner whenever you need to relieve yourself. I refer, instead, about the travel to different worlds inhabiting the same space as our own. Different dimensions. It’s a truly staggering concept.
“Suppose you could travel to an Earth in which the British won the war of Independence. What would have become of your precious Paragon City then, I wonder? Maybe it would still be there, named Parliamental City? Or maybe not. Or a world where the Rikti have taken over? I’m sure you’ve imagined such things. I’ve seen them. I’ve lived them all.”

Temple stood, and paced the floor, grinning. This was his favourite subject, I supposed.

“I’ve been to places where you can be homeless, or a king. I’ve been five minutes walk in one direction from here, and seen things of such glory, of such beauty, that they’d take your breath away. I’ve been five minutes walk in another direction, and seen things that would give you nightmares for the rest of your life.
“Imagine it. Infinite possibilities, right here, right now, invisible to you, and everyone you know. Most people don’t want to even concede the possibility of life on other planes of existence, but they’re real. As real as you or I. I’ve travelled these worlds, these dimensions, and discovered that there are only four constants. And, before you offer up the age-old phrase that ‘death and taxes’ are two of them, let me assure you, I’ve been to places where nobody is taxed on anything, and places where people live forever. No, some things I’ve discovered are a lot more interesting to you and I.

“Did you know that, no matter what happens, there is always a Fire Guardian? The team of Jason Tucker and Sammy Edwards is never denied, both of them exist, in some form or another, throughout the Multiverse. Emily, too, is a constant. No matter where you stand, on whichever Earth you inhabit, The Fire Guardian and his friends are there, to stop wrong-doing, and live for truth, justice…all that stuff.”

I nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, but this seems like something out of bad science fiction movies. I thought these could only be created by someone travelling in time.”
“Yes, yes, and only then by someone driving a DeLorean up to 88 miles per hour.” Temple smirked. “Please, Jason, I live the life. I know whereof I speak.”
I nodded for him to continue. “Now, I am a part of a group in my Universe that…well, polices these Alternate Dimensions. The Guardians of Infinity, we’re called, and there was a very troubling sign coming from your Universe.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, it seems a Doctor Pendant, believing he jumped back in time to this point, tried to enlist the services of his past self.”
“Believed.” Sammy’s eyebrows shot up.
“Yes. However, what he did, instead, was to open up a portal that not only sent him to a different time, but also to a different dimension…yours.”
“So…the Doctor Pendant that died recently, the time traveller…wasn’t actually from this Universe?”
“No. And it must have been a shock to him to discover that the Pendant from this reality wasn’t a Rikti collaborator.”

I thought this over. “So…Sammy isn’t my son?”
“Hey!”
“Actually…yes and no. Genetically, he’s your son. Mine, too. But, from a Quantum viewpoint, no.”

Sammy looked stunned. Temple ignored this, however, and took a breath. “Part of the problem remains, though.”

I found I couldn’t put up with these lies any longer. “Why did you kidnap my wife?”
“What?”
“Come on, ‘Temple’, I found your note. You took Emily.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“That note was written in my…our handwriting!” I felt my voice raise, and I let it. “You come here, you talk some [censored] about parallel universes, and you kidnap my wife?”
“Jason, Jason, Jason. She isn’t ‘your’ wife. Nor is she mine. The woman you’re referring to, right now, is a wanted criminal across seven continents spanning four different realities. She’s a Supervillain known as Corruptor, who has killed both her own counterparts, as well as ours, in those realities. She’s amassed an incredible fortune by ‘our’ deaths that, if she decided she wanted it in paper money, and not in electronic accounts, would bankrupt this planet in a heartbeat. She targeted you for death, and, frankly, I’m sick of showing up just in time to watch coroners stuff ‘my’ body into a black plastic bag.”
“[i]What[/i?]”
“It’s true.” Temple continued serenely, and pulled out a small handheld device, pressing a few buttons before sliding it across the table to me.
“This is the Quantum signature of the woman I took from your apartment. Check it against you own.”
I stared at the unfamiliar device.
“The button labelled ‘scan’?” Temple shook his head.
I pressed the button, and a second later, another pattern, like a wave-line from an oscilloscope, appeared on the screen.
“Now,” Temple said with maddening patience, as if he were addressing a small child. “Press the ‘Comparison’ button.”
I did so, and watched as the two patterns on the screen try to align themselves.

It failed.

“Happy now?”
“Hardly.” I grumbled, before sliding the device back to Temple, who picked it up and put it back on his belt with one fluid move, and nodded.
“Where’s the real Emily?”
Temple sighed. “Honestly? I don’t know.”
“So, help us find her!”
“I can’t.”
I stared at Temple. “Why not?”
“Because, Jason, she’s probably dead.”

‘No, that isn’t…it can’t…’
“You’re lying.”
Temple had the decency enough to try to look sad. “I wish I were, for your sake. My own Emily…well, she was killed shortly after our wedding.”
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded once. “Well, then.”
“So, why are you here?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve got Pendant. You’ve got…Emily,” I bit back, “So why else are you here?”
“Oh, I just wanted to meet you. To explain the situation. You’d have done the same for me.”

I nodded silently, and Temple took that as his cue to leave. Standing up, he nodded back to me. “See you around, Jason.”
“Sure.”
Without saying another word, or even glancing at Sammy, Temple spun on his heels, and headed towards the Base exit.

When he left, and Sam confirmed the transport, Sammy turned to me, wide eyed. “Do you really think that Mum’s dead?”
“I don’t believe a word of what he told us. I’m going to find Emily…the one he has, and talk to her.”
“I’m coming with.”

Just like that. I started to argue, but Sammy’s expression, looking just like his mother, told me he’d brook no conversation.
“Okay.”

*

Temple pressed a button on his forearm, and held it up to his face. “Cain?”
“Yes?”
“They bought it.”
“Oh, good. So, the experiment will continue?”
“As planned.”
“Good work, Temple.”
Temple nodded, although his companion, Cain, could not see.
“And after we kill Tucker, and that dimension jumper he calls a son? What happens to his wife?”
Temple imagined he could see the smirk on Cain’s face.
“She’s yours, to do with as you see fit.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it…Dad.”

HUGE congratulations to Duck, who hit his first 50 just now.

SHOW SOME LOVE!

I like it, so far. Too many people are getting caught up in niggling little details which don't -need- to be explained. Write the story the way you want to, not the way others demand it be written.

Carry on, it's terrific so far!

Thanks, Pistol.

It feels wonderful to be writing again, and especially on this particular story, which has been in the works (as opposed to The Works) for months. However, with...certain things I had committed to, I didn't have the time to sit down and finish this story. Now, perhaps, I can. I know it's certainly nice to see that people have been waiting a while to read this - not even a third of the way through the story, yet, and over 100 logged viewers? I know I'm not all of them. Most, yes, but not all.

Since chapter two is so short, I'm going to post up the next chapter now, but you'll have longer to wait for the next one. At -least- until after DXP. Enjoy.

Chapter Three

G

“Hey, JT!” the uniform shouted at me. “Whaddya want for lunch?”
“Depends, where’re we ordering from?”
The Blue Suit shrugged at me. “Bianco’s, I think. I’m taking a rain check, though. Too greasy.”
I laughed. “You just don’t have the stomach for fine, rich Italian food. I’ll have the Farro al Nero di Seppia.”
The desk sergeant stared at me, and I had to bite back a sigh.
“Farro al Nero di Seppia?” I could see him shrug. “Farro with squid in its’ own ink?”
“Ohhh!” the sergeant nodded, then paused. “What? That’s disgusting!”
“No,” I retorted, “It’s their speciality, and it’s wonderful. It’s just like being in the Locanda dell'Arte in Cittá Sant'Angelo d’Abruzzo.”
The desk sergeant chuckled. “Well, I’m from Steel Canyon, Detective. I’m not some high-flying Jet Setter type like you.”
I shrugged it off, and went back to my work. The occasional jibe I received from my co-workers on the Force were usually good natured enough that I could shrug them off. I knew they appreciated my work, and the joking stopped as soon as I got onto a crime scene. They knew I meant business, and that my ratio for solving serious incidents were somewhere in the regions of 457 to 13. However, I played as hard as I worked, and they appreciated that even more.
However, something I didn’t appreciate was all the paper-work that was encumbent on being a police officer. Everyone had to do it, true, but the more crimes you solve, the more paperwork you have to present. I tried to keep it all on time and in order, but, no matter how hard you try, even in a theoretically “paperless” office, those little sheets always add up. Right now, for example, I was in the middle of a J3563-B/A form, otherwise known to myself and my co-workers as a “Firearm Discharge” form. I had been threatened at knife-point by a Hellion, who was off his face on some sort of drug (“On the date in question”, I had written, “The suspect, whose name I later learned to be Marcus Gratenie of such-and-such address, produced a large sharp instrument with a serrated blade and a rubber grip.”) I did what came naturally to me, and had my gun pointed in the guys face in just under a second (my fast-draw is well practiced). The guy turned and ran (or “did his best to elude detainment”) when I took careful aim and…

I became aware of my partner reading over my shoulder.
“JT, you can’t write ‘I blew a chunk of the moron’s calf off’.”
“Why not? It’s not like anyone reads these things.” I shrugged. “I might as well put ‘I aimed for the perps head, but I missed, and ended up taking out his right testicle.’”
My partner laughed, and came around to sit opposite me on my visitor‘s chair.
“Cute. You ordered from Bianco’s already?”
“Yeah, got the special again.”
She sighed. “How much longer are you going to eat that stuff? The ink stains your teeth, you know.”
I pulled out some Icey-Whitey smoker’s gum, and waved it at her. “I’m always prepared. Besides, I’m in good hands. The owner makes the meal herself.”
“That’s because nobody’s crazy enough to cut up a squid and leave the ink sacs intact, instead of doing the smart thing and cut them out. Melissa‘s nuts.”
“Be that as it may…” I shrugged. “What’s shaking, anyway?”
“Oh, nothing interesting. Robbery at a pawn shop, four muggings, some naked guy showed up wandering through Faultline, and a few speeding tickets.”
I heard something in her voice, and turned to look at her.
“Okay, Wilks, spill. What’s so interesting about the naked guy?”
Cara Wilks shrugged at me. “Naked guy!”
I had to grin. Cara wasn’t…well, the best looking girl in the world, but she had more humour and grace than anyone else I could think of. I know that it’s a stereotype to say that ‘ugly women have a nice personality’, but in Cara’s case, it was true. Although she wasn’t ‘ugly’, per se, but still…
“JT!” I felt a hand smack me on the side of the head. “Wake up, you’re drifting off. Did you hear a word I said?”
“Naked…guy?”
Cara frowned at me. “Never mind.”
The phone rang before I could follow up on the discussion, and Cara picked it up.
“Wilks…” She glanced at me. “Yeah, he’s right here.”
I picked up a pencil, and twirled it in my fingers, trying to ignore the furtive looks Wilks was giving me.
“You’re sure?” She frowned. “How is that…and he’s still there?” She sighed, and shook her head. “We’ll be right over. Thanks, grandpa.”
I looked up. “Your grandfather?”
“Yeah, he…”
“How is the mad professor?”
“JT…”
“Still cutting up bodies for his gruesome experiments?” Admittedly, my Peter Lorre impression was bad, but still…
“JASON!”
I stared. “Yes?”
“He was assigned to identify the naked man in Faultline.”
“Right?”
“There’s something odd about the identification. They did a DNA test, since the Unsub is unconscious, and…”
I put the pencil down, and frowned. “C’mon, Wilks, stop stringing me along. Who is it? Lord Lucan? Howard Hughes? No, wait, don’t tell me. It’s Marcus Cole!”
Wilks shook her head. “No…Jason, it’s you.”

*

The car alighted outside the hospital, and I jumped out, glaring at Cara from the passenger side. Wilks may be my partner, but she was the worst driver I’ve ever seen - and I never even bothered to pick up a US drivers licence, despite all the time I’ve been living in this country. Unapologetic, Cara shrugged off her seatbelt, and exited the door, turning a full circle to close it. Practiced, measured, and graceful - of course, inside, she was probably only slightly less un-nerved than I was.
We entered the hospital, and made a beeline for the lifts. There was a Uniform on the floor when we exited, and I flashed my badge.
“Tucker, Homicide.”
The uniformed policeman stared at me for a second. “Sorry, Detective. It’s just, I saw the guy they brought in, and geez…”
I stared back, not saying a word, until the guy, who was probably a rookie, quietened down and broke eye contact with me.
“I’ll take you to him.”
“Thanks.”

Wilks and myself followed the rookie to a small room, and knocked on the door.
“Detective Tucker’s here to see you, Doc.”
“Ah, good.” A voice came from the other side of the door. “Send him in, will you?”
I frowned, and opened the door, stepping into…well…insanity.
Doctor Wilks sat on a stool, overlooking the Unsub. Although, he wasn’t much of an Unidentified Subject anymore. Unconscious in the bed was…me.

*

Detective Jason Tucker stared at his doppelganger in shock for what seemed, to him, to be several minutes, before he was led over to a chair by his partner, and sat down on it heavily.
“Hey, JT.” Wilks whispered to him. “You okay?”
He stared blankly up at her. “That’s….that’s me.”
“I know.” She nodded.
Doctor Wilks approached them, and cleared his throat. “If I may intrude for a second?”
Tucker nodded at him gently. “Sure, Doc. Tell me it isn’t me?”
The elder man laughed quietly. “Well, as you know, Mr Tucker, I pulled the DNA records, and ran them through the database of Paragon citizens. On a genetic level, the man is you.”
Cara put her hand on her grandfather’s arm. “On a genetic level?”
“Yes, my dear. On a molecular level, there are differences, however.”
“Like a clone?”
“Not quite. There are no traces of the usual single-bit errors associated with the cloning process in this man. However, there are some unusual fluctuations which I can’t identify. Also…” Doctor Wilks trailed off, uncertain with how to proceed.
Tucker stared. “Also…what, Doc?”
“The mans’ eyes are artificial.”
“You mean, they’re glass eyes?”
“No, I mean they’re artificial. Fully functional, working eyes, yet made of a composite material I can’t even begin to guess at. There‘s some minute scarring around the eye sockets, very professionally hidden. They‘re indicative of a trauma, such as intense heat. I think this man was burned and had artificial eyes implanted. Not clones, not Regens, but real, electronic, artificial eyes.”
“How…how is that possible?”
Doctor Wilks shrugged. “No idea. It would require a massive amount of funding to even attempt such a thing. Maybe the winner of the Worldwide Lottery had a hand in this?”
Tucker shrugged. “Beats me. Didn’t that guy in Africa win it? Tried to set himself up as a Warlord?”
Cara nodded. “Selfish *******, if you ask me.”
Doctor Wilks cleared his throat. “Well, if he was so selfish, he probably didn’t have a hand in this. So, that leaves us with a mystery.”
Tucker grumbled. “I hate mysteries.”
“Sure you do, Detective.”
“Fine. I hate mysteries that involve me. That’s why…” He stopped, and frowned. Cara rubbed his shoulder tenderly. “It’s okay, Jason, really. We know why you’re here. You don’t need to explain yourself to us, we’re your friends.”
Doctor Wilks pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Oh, yes, quite. The death of your young wife isn’t your fault, nor your inability to find her killer. In fact…”
“Grandpa?” Cara’s voice had a hint of a warning in it. Just a hint. But it was enough.
“Yes. I apologise, young man.”
“It’s okay.” Jason sighed. Sooner or later, he knew, it would all come down to facing his inner demons, and try to get past Emily’s murder.
The man in the hospital bed coughed, loudly, and groaned. Jason was on his feet, and by the bedside, in an instant.
“Careful.” Wilks’ clipped voice said. He was no longer the kind, if bumbling, man, but one of the best doctors in Paragon City. “Don’t crowd him.” Wilks looked down at the man…the other Tucker, as he opened up those fake eyes, and squinted.
“Too bright.” He croaked
Wilks cleared his throat. “Would you like me to turn the lighting down, help you re-adjust?”
“Whu? No, gimme a sec…” The man blinked. “Wilks? S’at you?”
“Yes, it is. You know me?”
The man chuckled. “Course. Doc Wilks. You’re my practicioner.”
Wilks took it all in stride, Tucker noted professionally. Didn’t even miss a beat.
“Very good. For the record, and to test your memory, can you tell me where you are?”
The man frowned. “Judging by my luck…Chiron.”
“Close. You’re in the Overbrook Medical Facility.”
“Change of scenery, then. We always seem to meet like this in Chiron.”
“Yes, quite. Okay, you recognise me, and you’re coherent enough to tell you’re in a hospital. Now for the big one - what’s your name?”
The man chuckled, and that laugh sent a shiver down the backs of everyone present. It was Tucker’s laugh. “Jason. Jason Temple-Tucker.”
Detective Tucker frowned. Nobody…but nobody knew about the ‘Temple’ part of his surname.
“I was born in…” And the man in the bed rambled on, casually giving details of Tucker’s own life, 100% correct, to Wilks. Tucker tried to avoid making eye contact with Cara, despite the fact he knew she was staring at him.
“Oh, and married to Emily Tucker, who’s pregnant with our first son, as you know.”

Detective Tucker’s legs buckled out, and then…he only knew that he was falling.

T3h 4ud13nc3 lols
T3h aud13nce m0anz
But 4uggy m1 d34r
Ur new p03m pwnz.

Cr34t1v3 G3n1uz n0m1n4t10n r1t3 th3r3.

Chapter Two

X

The man fell. He wasn’t aware of such mundane things like “distance”, or “time”. He only knew that he was falling.
Where did he come from?
When did he come from?
Who was he?

All questions which the man knew that he should know the answers to. Yet, questions which he would not be able to answer, were there anyone to ask him. However, there weren’t. Or, if there were, he was not aware of them. He only knew that he was falling.

He knew, in some dim, almost forgotten part of his mind, that he didn’t always fall. Some dark recess of his mind whispered to him of things such as hope, happiness, family…love. This small portion of his memory tried to speak out to him properly, to comfort him in his dark time, as it had done in the past. However, it was drowned out by the silence of the void. The emptiness that surrounded the man was so deafeningly still and silent that nothing else could be heard. If the man tried to scream, he would not have heard it. Maybe he was screaming now, but wasn’t aware that his mouth was open. He wasn’t even aware that he had a mouth. He knew nothing about himself, and barely knew that he existed.

He only knew that he was falling.

Seconds stretched into hours, and hours stretched into weeks. Weeks became decades, became millenia, became an eternity. An eternity where one man was alone, in a place where there was no light, no sound, no reason, no identity. Only the sensation of a dive from the top diving board, of a roller coaster in that teetering moment where gravity took you, and gave you a shove back down to earth.

The man, if he could even be called a man even more, knew of nothing else. He had no concept of “heaven” or “hell”, and couldn’t remember if he ever had. However, some part of him knew, with an absolute certainty, that this was Hell.

And he was trapped there, perhaps forever. Always falling.

[ QUOTE ]
I suggest putting more descriptions in your story : places, characters especially.
At the Jolly Roger, is the place full of people, what are sounds, voices around ? Why this place became their favorite haunt and not another one ?

Add flavor to your characters conversations by creating a setting around them, describe their posture and so on.

[/ QUOTE ]

I'll try to bear that in mind, thank you. However, this is actually an alternative view on a chapter I wrote in a previous story. It'll be re-visited from another point of view in a later chapter as well, so hopefully the characterisation will be more to your liking.

Chapter One

August 19th, 2002

Jason stood in front of the bathroom mirror, and his reflection stared back at him. Although he tried to ignore the look of nervous anticipation on his face, his eyes kept drifting back to stare. He took a few deep breaths, to steady himself, and then stuck his tongue out at his own reflection.

“Okay, Tucker, you can do this.” He murmured to himself. “You’re a smart guy, you know what you want to do, and you’ve been planning this for months.” His hand slid down his side, and gently caressed the small box in his pocket. “You love her, and she loves you. No doubt, no surprises, no way this is turning sour. Tonight’s the night.” He wrapped his tie around his neck, and slowly began to tie it.

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

There was a sound from the lower level of the house, as a voice shouted up, “Honey, I’m home. Put it back in your boxers, and tell Campbell to put her knockers away, willya? A brother’s coming up.”
Emily snorted. “A ‘brother’? He’s as black as snow.”
“Word.” Jason deadpanned. Emily turned back and shot a mock-glare at him.
“Oh, stop.”
The bathroom door flung wide open, and Sammy Edwards, Jason’s long-time best friend, stepped in.
“Waaaaaaaassssssssaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap?”
“Oh, God…”
“WAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP?”
Emily slapped Jason in the chest, and tried not to smile. “Don’t encourage him. He only gets worse.”
“True dat, ho.”
She glared at Sammy. “I’m sorry…what did you just call me?”
“Uhm…a ‘dat’?”
“Riiiight.”

Emily checked the time, as Sammy and Jason studied each other’s clothes. “Damn, Jay-man, what’s with the smart look?”
“Oh, it’s….you know.”
“Ah, say no more. You’re under the thumb, gotcha.”
“I…I am not!”
“No, no, you’re right, you’re not….hey.” Sammy frowned. “How’d you get that mark?”
Jason turned to look in the mirror. “What mark?”
“That mark on your forehead.”
Jason stared at his forehead in the mirror.
“I don’t see any mark.”
“Dude, I’m telling you, there’s a big [censored] mark right there.”
“I don’t see it. What does it look like?”
“Emily’s [censored] thumbprint.”
Jason scowled. “Funny man.”
“You know you love it, baby. So…where’re we going, anyway? And why did you dress Jason up like your own [censored] Ken doll?”
“One, we’re going to the pub. It’s a charity night. Two…I think he looks smart.”
“He looks like a car interior from the 50’s.”

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

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

They got into Jasons’ car, and Sammy leaned forwards from the backseat, pressing the ‘play’ button on the CD player.

‘Wassup, y’all
Remember me?
I’m the DJ who thinks
That he’s Slim Shady’

Emily quickly pressed the ‘Stop’ button before the rapper could get any further.
“Christ, I hate that guy.”
“Hey, woman!” Sammy’s voice took on a high pitched nasally whine. “What’chu doin’ to my tunes? I needs me some gangsta rap.”
“You need to get laid.”
Sammy smirked. “You offerin’, Campbell? Got tired of my boy Jay-Mac here, and you want a real man?”
Jason glared into his rear view mirror. “Sammy, you buckled up?”
“Pffft. [censored], I need me some movin’ room. Can’t keep me tied down, no, sir…”
“Okay.” Jason slammed his foot on the accelerator and snapped the clutch up, lurching the car forward with a wheel spin, and slamming Sammy back against his seat.
“Aaaaaahhhh!” Sammy yelled, and affected a terrible Jamaican accent. “Ya Bumbaclad, ya made my hair get messed oop.”
“You better not have left any grease in my car, Edwards.”

***

As they entered their long-time favourite haunt, The Jolly Roger (which caused Sammy no end of amusement. Other people would suggest going to the pub and having a drink – he, on the other hand, would say ‘Let’s get Rogered!’), they saw that the charity event was in full swing.
“Yo, Poofter!” Sammy grinned at Jason. “I’m gonna set me up with some BMWs. Want one?”
Jason wrinkled his nose. A ‘BMW’, or Baileys, Malibu, and Whiskey, was originally designed, so the story went, as an industrial strength paint thinner. It could put anyone on their back by even smelling it, and usually, Jason steered as far away from them as possible.
Tonight, however…
“Yeah, sure, hook me up.”
“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaahhh!” Sammy crowed. “The Blood Parrot and his trusty partner, The Sex Machine, are going to splash out tonight!” He continued to talk to anyone and everyone on his way to the bar. “We’re gonna get us some drinks, we’re gonna smack us down some Rikti scum, and we’re gonna be on the P.U.Double L, pull. Boyeee!”
Jason turned his head away from his friend, once he saw Sammy had started to dry hump a supporting column.
“Why…exactly, do you put up with him?” Emily glanced sideways at her boyfriend.
“He’s….Sammy. He’s always been there for me.”
“Looks more like he’s there for that barmaid, right now.” Emily smirked, and Jason turned to see Sammy trying to chat up a member of the barstaff.
“It won’t work.”
“Oh?” Emily was genuinely curious.
“They had a date about seven months ago. Sammy got drunk, groped her, and threw up.”
“On his own shoes?” Emily grinned, remembering her first meeting with Jason.
“No. On her shoes.”
“Oh.”
“And dress.”
“Ouch.”
“And in her car.”
“Okay, Jay, I get it.”
“And her dog, when he tried to kiss her goodnight.”
Emily frowned. “Your best friend is truly a prince amongst men.”
“That’s why I keep him around. He makes me look perfect.”
Emily kisses Jason’s chin. “You make you look perfect. Now, I need to mingle.”
Jason nodded, and watched Emily head to some of her friends. Before he could find some people to talk to, however, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he saw the short stocky owner of the Jolly Roger, a man with whom he’d shared many drinks in the past, and yet knew only as ‘Flasherman’.
“JT!” Flash grinned.
“Hey, Flasher. Great turn out.”
Flash nodded, and looked around the packed pub. “Yeah, but it’s all for a good cause.” He paused. “Speaking of good causes, is tonight still the night?”
Jason blushed slightly. “Yeah…if she’ll have me.”
The other man laughed, and slapped Jason on the back. “If she doesn’t, she’s mental.” He gestured over to the slightly raised platform in the pub, which the pub-goers had nicknamed ‘The Stage’. “At least you’re not alone in being nervous, look.”
Jason looked over to where some soldiers were sitting. The charity night was pretty much for them, and they were drinking for free – which all of them seemed to enjoy except one. A sandy-haired guy, about the same age as Jason himself, was looking around nervously.
‘I know just how he feels.’ Jason mused to himself.

Sammy arrived with the drinks, and Flasherman made himself scarce, saying he had other people to attend to. Sammy handed Jason one of the BMWs, which he downed in one gulp.

Normally, Jason would take his time in drinking something as vile and as alcoholic as he found Sammy’s favourite drink to be, but he was shaking too much. The talk with Flash hadn’t calmed his nerves any, and he was worried that Emily would reject his proposal. He barely felt the slight shoulder barge of some guy, slightly older than him, and the gruff “S’cuse me, mate” in apology. Jason shivered, something he attributed that to his nerves, as well as the alcohol.
Sensing Jasons’ nervousness, Sammy took him by the shoulder, and dragged him outside. Jason reeled as the cool air, so different from the overheated pub, struck his body.
“Dude, what’s wrong?”
“What? Nothing.”
Sammy laughed. “You’re having second thoughts, aren’t you?”
Jason smiled faintly. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to me, because I know you so well. And, of course, most of the pub.”
They stood outside in silence for several minutes – a rare feat for Sammy, but he knew what his best friend needed.

After a while, though, Sammy nodded towards the door. “You ready to do this thing?”
“What, now?” Jason blanched.
“Dude, might as well get it done and dusted. That way, if she says no, you’ll be able to drink yourself to oblivion.”
Jason stared at his friend. “You’re a good mate.”
“[censored], I’m the best.”
Jay laughed, and nodded. “Yeah, you are.” He sighed. “Well, let’s get this show on the road.” He walked towards the door, head held high, when his former tutor burst out of the doors.
“Mr Tucker!”
“Rasmussen? How’re the new students treating you?”
“Jason…” Rasmussen ignored him. “You can’t go back in there.”
“Why on earth not?”
Stepping past his former tutor, he strode into the Jolly Roger, to nearly absolute silence. The expressions on the faces of the regular patrons were ones of disgust, horror, or sympathy…and, oddly, the sympathetic ones were directed at him.
‘Strange,’, Jason thought to himself. ‘There was a lot more joking and shouting when I walked outside, I’m sure of it.’ In fact, a part of Jason’s brain noted clinically, the only noise was coming from the soldiers, who were cheering wildly. He turned to face them, and whatever heat was inside the pub seemed to freeze, chilling Jason to his core.
Emily…the woman he was going to propose to…was kissing that quiet soldier.

Jason felt his knees buckle, and Sammy, luckily, caught him and helped him outside. “C’mon, mate.” Sammy muttered. “We’ll walk.”

The short car drive became a 15 minute walk. To Jason, though, it felt like 15 seconds, and 15 hours, all at once. He didn’t want to go home. He wanted to be nowhere else.

***

I made Jason a cup of tea, and decided to upstairs to my bedroom. He just…collapsed on the sofa after I tried to set him down. I put the cup of tea into his hand, otherwise he might not notice it was there. I wanted to say something, but I know it’d just come out wrong.
Some people accuse me of thinking too little before I talk. I take that as a compliment, really. I mean, yeah, I put up a good show, and all – running my mouth, flirting with everyone and everything that moves. That’s what I do, after all.
I often think about going to Paragon City, to try and get myself some training as a Superhero, but I know what would happen. I’d be relegated to the comedy sidekick, like I am with Jason. That comment I made earlier, about how he should call himself ‘Blood Parrot’…yeah, okay, I was joking, and all, but sometimes I look at Jason, and I can see the guy he wants to be. The Superhero that’s inside him, waiting for a chance to get out, despite the fact he doesn’t have any powers. I’m his sidekick – the funny guy (alright, the funny and devastatingly handsome guy) who’s always by his side. That’s how it’s always been, since we were little kids. Partners in crime, through thick and thin, and seeing him like this…so unlike the Jason I know he is, just makes me want to go back to the Roger right now, and kill those soldiers. Yeah, they’re bigger, stronger, better trained than I am, and there are more of them.

So what? I’m Sammy [censored] Edwards.

Part of me wants to go downstairs and see how Jason is. I mean, really talk to him, get him to come out of his shell. Hell, I’ll even let him smack me around a few times, if it helps him.

I debate on the pros and cons for a bit, and I decide to go downstairs, and insult Emily to Jasons’ face. Yeah, he’ll hate it, but he needs to wise up. I never knew she had it in her, but…maaaan, my boy got played. Nobody deserves that to happen to them, least of all Jason Tucker. He’s a stand-up guy, through and through; if you ask him to do something, he’ll do everything in his power to make it happen. When my parents died, Jay was the one who demanded his parents take me in. He was the one who helped me when I was struggling with my coursework, and let me copy from him. Jay was the one who helped me get onto the college course we had recently completed, and made sure he found a place for us both to stay – and he never even asked me to pay my share of the rent. What had I done in return? The only nice thing I’d ever done for him was introduce him to Emily after we left Byregood, and look how that was turning out.

My hand was on the doorhandle when I heard another door open, and slam closed. Emily had come home. Just me and Jay? Don’t sweat it, I can handle a few pops to the face if Jay turns nasty. But there’s no way I’m facing down Emily. She might be tiny, but she’s a lot stronger, and faster, than she looks.

Damn black belts.

So…here I’ll sit, and listen to the fight that’s sure to [censored] off the neighbours.

***

I was barely aware of Emily screaming at me.
Well, that’s not true. It was the only thing I was aware of. The exact words, however, blended seamlessly into one droning noise. Usually I’d argue back, but I was too tired, and too upset by what she’d done.
…Ah. Now she was insulting my parents. Well, that’s certainly original.
I think I was in shock. Nothing she said, or did, fazed me. When she picked up the photo of us graduating college and threw it to the floor, stamping on it, I didn’t bat an eyelid. When she said that I had never satisfied her, I barely reacted.
When I had realised that she’d finished speaking, and was glaring at me, waiting for a retort, I let her wait. Just…looking up at her, never moving, never saying a word.
“You *******.”
I mentally shrugged it off, and stood up, putting my untouched mug of tea on the floor. Emily took a step back and got into some defensive posture, but I didn’t care.
I wasn’t going to hit a woman. Even if the woman had just broken my heart.
I reached into my pocket, and pulled out the velvet box which held the engagement ring I had bought for her, and threw it into her hands.

“Good-bye.”

The first words I had spoken, at all, since Rasmussen had warned me not to go back inside the pub. Without looking back, I walked up the stairs, and into our…my…bedroom.

I was rather proud of myself. It wasn’t until I heard the front door close, and faint footsteps heading away from the house we had shared, that I let myself cry.

Here we go, and I'm starting with a brief summary for people who haven't read 'Into The Inferno', 'The Flames Of Justice', and 'Bloodlines', and to save the people who have read them from sighing, shaking their heads, and going back to re-read them. It's been far, far too long since I started this story, and hopefully now, I can finish it. I'll be updating once a week, or so, or whenever the mood takes me, as before. I've been working on the FG stories now since almost day one of playing, and it's been a lot of fun putting him through absolute hell - I hope you guys have enjoyed reading about him as much as I've enjoyed writing about him.

What has come before:

Two years after the Rikti War, young Hitchinite Jason Temple-Tucker, recovering from heartache at losing the love of his life (and would be fiancé) Emily Campbell to a soldier on his way to fight in the war, entered the first Worldwide Lottery. By a fluke, he became the sole winner of the Lottery, and received a pay-out in excess of sixty billion pounds. After setting up a Foundation to help pay for living costs, medicines, and general Quality of Life for people who lost their loved ones and/or livelihood through the war, and entrusting it to a lawyer called Michael Anson, Tucker decided to go on holiday – his first one in several years. He brought his best friend, Sammy Edwards, along for the trip. Since Sammy had a fixation with Super-Heroes, Jason and Sammy went to Paragon City.

Once there, instead of finding peace and quiet, Jason and Sammy got involved in a conspiracy. It seemed as if two opposing factions were at a secret war with one another. The good side, led by a man named Jenson Infern, tried to recruit Jason into the organisation, which Jason refused. Before he could leave, however, they came under attack by the most feared soldier of the opposing faction, a man known only as The Corruptor. Corruptor killed Infern, and severely injured Jason – destroying his lower legs, eyes, and burning his whole body. Before Corruptor left, he called Jason by his nickname of ‘Jay’; a name which only Jasons’ closest friends had ever called him.

As Jason recuperated, he was inducted into the Order on his hospital bed by Mayor Samantha Hearten, and her assistant…Emily Campbell. He received new legs, which would give him the power of flight, as well as new electronic eyes, and skin grafts. He decided to take on the name ‘Fire Guardian’, to keep himself safe from reprisal. He later picked up a device which would serve him well over the years – a Power Belt. This seemingly ordinary device transmitted, when active, a highly protective forcefield, attuned specifically for Jason’s precise bodyshape, and displayed a series of different costumes.

After another encounter with Corruptor, Jason and Emily renewed their previous relationship, and considered moving in together. However, a phone call from Sammy left Jason suspecting his oldest friend of being his arch-rival. Emily went to meet with Sammy, and Jason followed secretly, from a distance. After a pitched battle, he discovered Sammy, sitting on a raised, throne-like chair, staring down at him…dead. Emily, who had been Corruptor the entire time, had killed Sammy after he had found out her dual identity. She wanted to escape with Jason, and start anew with him, but Sammy’s discovery put all that in jeopardy. She had been hired, it was discovered, by Michael Anson, who put the whole conspiracy in action. The two factions were a sham, put on to draw Jason in and kill him, so Anson could take full control of the Foundation and use it to his own ends – taking over Paragon City. Jason narrowly escaped with his life, and his death was faked so Anson would stop looking for him. He later took control of the Foundation anyway, and returned to his original home, where he had been a crime boss…Paragon City – after having Mayor Hearten killed, he ran for (and became) Mayor, not knowing that Tucker was out for revenge.

Assisted by the doctor who helped him recover from his original ordeal, Jason took over a disused Supergroup Base, and retrained himself. The doctor, Wilks, obtained a highly intelligent and powerful AI program to run the base and co-ordinate with Tucker – the program took on an avatar of Jasons’ dead friend, Sammy Edwards. Together with Wilks, the SAMI program, a reporter for the Paragon Times, and Wilks’ grand-daughter, a scrapper who went by the alias ‘Sarriss Groundwalker’, Tucker managed to re-unite with Emily, and later gunned down Mike Anson in cold blood.

Regaining his Foundation, Tucker married Emily Campbell, and then went about the process of dismantling the subverted and criminal projects that Anson had started, officially retiring from duties as Fire Guardian. However, an unknown individual took on those duties, assisted by the SAMI program. After a confrontation, Tucker followed the individual back to his old base, and discovered that the new Fire Guardian was, in fact, his son from the future, sent back to stop a scientist who was trying to start a new Rikti War – a war that had killed the future selves of Jason and Emily Tucker. Before Jason and his ‘son’, Sammy, could reach the scientist, he was killed by an unknown assassin. Upon their return to the base, where Sammy was being trained by his ‘father’, they discovered that Emily had been kidnapped…by a version of Jason Tucker from another dimension.

The two Tuckers agreed to meet with this other Jason Tucker, who called himself Temple (the first part of Jasons’ double-barrelled surname) and hear what he had to say.

[ QUOTE ]
My guess is next weekend.

[/ QUOTE ]

I'd say next weekend too, if not the weekend afterwards. IIRC, DXP was one of those things that they could just press a button or two and activate/de-activate - so, if they're testing out how easy it is to do NOW, then it'll be faster for them to set it up on the main servers.

Hey, guys. I'm planning another Mad Dash, but instead of going from 48 to 50, I'm going to try to get, in ONE DAY, from 21 to at -least- 30. Naturally, doing it Solo means I'll be pulling another 15 hour stint, which wasn't really that great for my body, but an 8 man team, pushing through Police Bands and Safeguards on Invincible should barrel us right through. So, if you have any toons at around 20-22, and you want to join in the mayhem, here's where to sign up for it!

Plans for Saturday:

At least one Respec Trial (out of consideration for those who haven't been playing for nine months) and Police Bands/Safeguards (the only real way we can be sure of not outlevelling the contacts), until we quit, or hit a minimum of 30.

Starting: 8:30am
Finishing: Who knows?
Where to meet up: Independence Port

Sunday:
Finishing up the run to 30, then/or Warburg Missions on Invincible.

When: 9:00
Finishing: Who knows?
Where to meet up: Where we left off, OR the entrance to Warburg

Thanks, Toxic, good advice, and I've made the necessary changes.

Hmm, thanks for the advice.

Here's what I've put down so far, as well as an explanation for why I've chosen to go with this particular build:

Exported from Ver: 1.7.6.0 of the CoH_CoV Character Builder - (http://sherksilver.coldfront.net/index.php)
---------------------------------------------
Name: Happy-Smiley-Go-Go Man
Level: 50
Archetype: Blaster
Primary: Electrical Blast
Secondary: Devices
---------------------------------------------
01) --> Charged Bolts==> Dmg Dmg Dmg EndMod EndMod Rechg
01) --> Web Grenade==> Immob
02) --> Lightning Bolt==> Dmg Dmg Dmg EndMod EndMod Rechg
04) --> Ball Lightning==> Dmg Dmg Dmg EndMod EndMod Rechg
06) --> Hasten==> Rechg Rechg Rechg
08) --> Swift==> Fly Fly Fly
10) --> Air Superiority==> Dmg
12) --> Targeting Drone==> TH_Buf TH_Buf TH_Buf EndRdx EndRdx EndRdx
14) --> Super Speed==> Run Run
16) --> Health==> Heal Heal Heal
18) --> Short Circuit==> EndMod EndMod EndMod Rechg Rechg Rechg
20) --> Stamina==> EndMod EndMod EndMod
22) --> Fly==> Fly Fly Fly
24) --> Cloaking Device==> DefBuf DefBuf DefBuf EndRdx EndRdx
26) --> Aim==> TH_Buf TH_Buf TH_Buf
28) --> Zapp==> Dmg Dmg Dmg IntRdx IntRdx EndMod
30) --> Voltaic Sentinel==> Dmg Dmg Dmg Rechg
32) --> Thunderous Blast==> Dmg Dmg Dmg EndRdx EndRdx Rechg
35) --> Assault==> EndRdx EndRdx EndRdx
38) --> Tactics==> TH_Buf TH_Buf TH_Buf EndRdx
41) --> Body Armor==> DmgRes DmgRes DmgRes
44) --> Sleep Grenade==> Sleep
47) --> LRM Missile==> Dmg Dmg Range Range Range IntRdx
49) --> Auto Turret==> Dmg

Why I've gone with these powers:

MaX knows, better than anyone, how I feel about Defiance. Whilst it DOES have it's uses, it's a crutch, and I don't like the whole sense of needing to be at deaths door before I can make a decent shot. Whilst I'll be handicapping myself by ignoring Defiance, I'd rather stay alive and continuously hurt something, as opposed to being at 1hp and merely hoping I'll stay alive long enough to damage it.

As for all the End Mods I've slotted into my attacks, I consider, personally, the most annoying and evil type of mob (not villain group) to be Malta Sappers. Certainly, other types are as painful (Carnie's with the Psionics, Rikti with their Immobs) but, to me, there's nothing as painful as having your endurance drained, and being unable to regain it for a short time. That said, the build I propose to make isn't so much a Stalker Killer as a Stalker Hunter - someone who actively goes out and finds Stalkers, and cripples them before killing. For that reason, I've only given a cursory enhancement to Web Grenade, and ignored Caltrops.

Heresy? Maybe. But consider this: Web Grenade is only useful if the target doesn't have any Break Frees. In PvP, it's common to take along at least one - even Stalkers, with their assumed Superiority of "if they can't see me, they can't hit me" would have at least one Break Free. By the time I've gotten off a power or two, they'd have hit their BF and be running (I opted for Sleep Grenade as well, so I'm not totally ignoring the possibility of this happening). I, personally, believe it would be better to sidle up near them as they're preparing to hit an AS, cloaked, and then hit Short Circuit, draining their End. If I drained their Endurance once, then hit them with the Web/Sleep Grenade, I could possibly get off another Short Circuit before they recover, messing with them more. Unable to regain their Endurance, they'd be easy targets for other players, or for my Voltaic Sentinel.

Why Fly? Well, certainly it's slower than the other powers, and I've gone for SS too, so I can follow them on the ground, but Flight offers a larger view of the area to search for Stalkers, and better (I feel) control than SJ. If they're moving off, I can park up on a building and still hit them with my three Range Increased LRM, and whilst they're looking for where their attacker is, swoop down and hit them with Short Circuit, etc, etc.

Any thoughts/comments?

Hey, guys.

I'm pottering around with a new build for PvP, and after reading a few comments on the board about different builds, etc, I've decided to seek advice on my build. It's primarily going to be a Stalker Killer, so the stacked perception of TD and Tactics would be nice - however, I also have Aim in the build. It seems a bit needless to have all three going, so do I really need Aim? Or, for that matter, Tactics? Losing Aim would free up other attacks for me, and losing Tactics would free up two more powers, since I'm only dipping into the Leadership pool for it.

Also, something else I'd quite like to know: obviously, I'm going to slot for Stamina, but I've been told by one person that a Blaster "absolutely needs" Health, whereas others have told me I don't, since I'd be losing Health faster than I'd be regenning it. Any thoughts?

Chapter Five

4:00pm

By the time I’d finished screaming, I’d noticed that I was back in my office, in my chair, and there were no signs of ghosts, ghouls, goblins, or anything else that goes bump in the night.
bump
“Son of a…” I shot up from my chair, and swung the door wide, to come face to face with…
“Evening, Mr Tucker. Is everything alright in here?”
A night-watchman peered over my shoulder.
“Uhh…yes, everything’s fine…” I glanced at his nametag, “Dave. Just a little surprised to see the time fly by.” I smiled. “Nothing to worry about.” I paused. “Why’re you here? I thought that everyone had left for Christmas.”
Dave shrugged at me. “You know how it is, Mr Tucker. I need to pay for my kids presents, and the tree, the mortgage…that means working overtime and extra shifts.”
“Right…right.” I blinked, then reached for my wallet, handing a fistful of bills to the amazed security guard. “Go home, Dave.” I patted his shoulder. “Everyone should have Christmas without anything to worry about.” I smiled. “Believe me.”
“Yessir, Mr Tucker. Is…is there anything I can do for you?”
I grinned. “You know, what? I think there is.”

***

8:34pm

The Tuckers’ Christmas party was in full swing by eight pm, and now, over half an hour later, there were no signs it was letting up. Emily was serving beer to the guests, Sarriss (the real one, dear reader, I assure you) was sitting on a couch chatting amiably to Susan Daniels, her reporter friend from The Paragon Times, who had, after much convincing, left her Dictaphone and notebook at home. People stopped to admire baby Sammy, who had decided, in his baby-way, to stay up all night and watch the proceedings with curiousity. All the lights, sounds, and people fascinated his two month old mind, and he clapped and grinned at the jokes he could hear – prompting Doctor Wilks, an old friend of Jasons’, to make a statement about how Sammy was quite possibly the most intelligent baby in the world. Although he said it jokingly, Emily nodded sagely, as if she had long suspected this to be the case.

She glanced towards the elevator doors every now and then, concerned for her missing husband. Yes, she’d yelled at him, punched him in the face, and confined him to the couch for the next week, but she was still concerned. He hadn’t been himself since she’d gotten back from City Hall in the early morning, and whenever she’d gone down to his office to see him, after being assured that he hadn’t left the office, he was nowhere to be seen.
‘he was probably flying around to clear his head.’ she mused to herself. ‘It’s nothing to worry about.’
“So, Campbell.” Sarriss slurred, spilling off the couch and trying to straighten up. “Where’s that husband of yours?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea. He’ll be here soon, though.”
“Well.” Sarriss poked Emily’s ribs with the top of her beer bottle. “You said that half an hour ago.”
“Sarriss, come on. When’s Jay ever been on time?”
“Ahh.” Sarriss nodded slowly. “Good point, you know. Good point.”
The two women looked around the living room of the Tucker’s apartment, watching the other guests. One woman, who had only recently attained Security Level 50, was off in a corner, describing how she had beaten a foe with a power thrust to the face. In another area, a small group of men stood around a blonde woman dressed in white, black, and gold, who was bemoaning the tailor’s inability to produce a decent neckline in an outfit. The men, all trying to stare holes in her top, fervently agreed, producing a sigh from Emily.
“Why does Jason even invite her?”
Sarriss shrugged. “They’re friends.”
“Yeah, but…”
Sarriss smirked. “Em, you’re not jealous of her, are you?”
“What? Me? No.” Emily blurted out, too quickly. Sarriss was going to tease her somewhat, when a man strolled up, and in a thick European accent which neither of the ladies could place, asked where Jason was.
“He’s been detained because of work. He’ll be here soon, though.”
The man nodded. “Okay, mate. I’d like to really talk to him about doing an interview for the radio station.”
Sarriss’ eyes lit up. “You’re a DJ?”
“DJ and the station manager.” The man smiled and extended a hand, which Sarriss eagerly shook.
“Wow. Are you the morning show guy? I love him so much!”
“Err…no. But I can introduce you, if you like.” The man gestured to a group of individuals stood to one side, trying desperately to talk over not just the crowd, but one another as well. One of the people in the group, a young man who, Emily noted, bore a startling resemblance to Jason, looked at Sarriss and smiled. Sarriss turned to Emily, and winked. “Don’t wait up.”
As Sarriss was led away by the man with the funny accent, Emily heard the elevator door chime.
“He’s here!” Emily announced loudly, causing everyone to turn and look at her.
“The elevator door just dinged.”
Fifty Heroes turned to the door, raised their glasses and bottles, and in one voice shouted “Gratz!” One voice was heard to say “Gartz!” just afterwards, causing one gentleman to, as the door opened, turn and berate his friend who mispronounced the old toast. “Xanthus, you little piggy…”
Whatever the reply was going to be, Emily tuned it out as the doors slid open, and stepping out of the lift, was...
Was…
“Santa!” a few voices shouted cheerfully, waving. Jason strode out, in a Santa outfit, and waved back at the assembled group. “Where’s my ho, ho, ho at?”
As Emily walked towards him, Jason grinned. “Ah, here she is now. Hiya honey!”
“Jason Temple-Tucker, just where have you been?”
“Out.” Was the automatic reply.
“Out, you say? I’ve been trying to host a party with people I don’t even know. Your busty friend who complains about her costume is here, and the station manager for Evolution wants to talk to you about an interview…”
“Ooh!” Jason interrupted, smiling broadly. “With the morning show guy? I love him!”
“So does Sarriss. She’s over chatting him up.”
Jason laughed, and looked around. “Looks like a great party. Sorry I’m late, I had to take care of a few things.”
“Such as?”
Jason winked. “I think I just personally bought every toy in Paragon City for the orphanages, for the staff to distribute to orphans based on what they’d like the most. Also,” He hefted the sack on his shoulder, “A few knick-nacks for the crowd, here.”

As Jason began to dole out toys, games, and various items to the assembled guests, Emily noticed that her husband seemed a lot more relaxed, and cheerful about the thought of giving out presents over the holiday season. He had somehow, in one day, bought into the commercialism of Christmas, and it had changed him in a wonderful way.

Jason headed over to Sarriss, in the middle of a conversation with ‘the morning show’ guy, and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Excuse me for a moment.”
“Sure.” The DJ said, nodding.
Jason reached into his sack, and pulled out a pink gift-wrapped box. “Cara, this is for you.”
“Oh, Jay, thanks.” Sarriss smiled, and opened it eagerly, staring at the contents.
“A…a Barbie doll? How….how did you know?”
He winked. “Seemed you might want one. Merry Christmas. Oh, and…try to get me an autograph?”
Sarriss nodded, and, hugging the box, turned back to the DJ.
Jason went over to the tall blonde in the white costume, and handed her a penknife.
“What’s this for?” She frowned.
Jason beamed. “For cutting up your costume. Now you can make your own neckline.”
The woman laughed, and winked at Jason, who shook his head. “Stop winking all the time. It’s freaking creepy.”

He doled out presents for the next hour or so, with gifts ranging from a radio controlled Titan robot to the new Level 50 (“I thought you might like a mini Giant-Stompy-Robot” was the explanation he gave) to a book for his friend dressed in white and silver, whom he had seen earlier in the day. To Weasel’s girlfriend, he gave a pair of bright red speedo’s, which Weasel eyed hungrily.
“No, they’re not for you.” His girlfriend scowled.
“Ah-hah.” He retorted. “We’ll see about that.”

Finally, Jason returned to his wife, and gave her a small gift, which she opened curiously. Laughing, she dangled her new pair of purple-coloured furry handcuffs on one finger, which gained a lot of hooting and hollering.
“Jay, they’re perfect. But…”
Jason frowned. “But what?”
Emily smirked. “You’re on the couch for the week, remember?”

Everyone laughed, and Jason chuckled, grabbing a glass of champagne.
“Everyone, if I can have your attention please?” Once he saw that everyone was looking at him, he raised his glass. “Now, I know you guys think I like making long winded and ultimately pointless speeches, so I’ll make this quick.” He ignored the snorting and good natured jokes which filtered through. “Christmas is traditionally a time of love, and laughter, and family, and friends. Since my family and friends are all here, that only leaves one thing. The giving. Christmas isn’t just about remembering the birth of a baby over 2,000 years ago, it’s about something a lot more important, and fundamental.
“Getting really awesome presents.”

Everyone cheered, and Jason smiled. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”

The others all drank, and they continued the party long into the night.

The End

***

From me, I hope everyone’s had a great Christmas, and that you all party hard, but safely, into 2007. With all of us playing the game, and being on the forums, I can’t think of a more fun way to spend my free time. It’s a testament to how great this game is, that it attracts such a terrific community, and whether anyone thinks people are cliquish, standoffish, or whatever, it only takes a few minutes to realise that everyone here is basically a good person, and concerned with the community on the whole. And, on the whole, I think our community is terrific.

FG will return in the New Year with Dark Mirror, and I’ll return as soon as NTL stops messing around with my connection.

Again, have a very merry Christmas.

--BF

Finally, Z hit 50 on a Winter Lord, with the help of a dashing and handsome team. Congrats!

Congrats to Gideon, who hit his second 50 this morning!

Now roll an AR/Fire blaster, and revel in the awesomeness...

Chapter Four

3:27pm

I landed, with a jolt, back in my chair in my office. Looking around, I saw no sign of the Spirit, although I was sure that the mistletoe hanging directly over my chair was a souvenir from her. I know I sure as hell didn’t put it up there.

Checking the time on my wallclock (I didn’t trust my watch anymore, since the Spirit had made it stop) I saw that it was nearly half past three. Although I’d made it clear to everyone in the Foundation that I wanted them out of the building and with their families by 3pm, I decided to take a stroll through the building anyway, to see what I could see. Although I wasn’t against anyone staying late to work overtime, I had made it abundantly clear that it wasn’t mandatory.

Walking through the Foundation, I felt a sense of peace that I had been lacking since Sammy’s visit. Here we were working to achieve a safer, cleaner Paragon, and no matter what any ghosts, spirits, or ghouls tried to tell me, I know that it was the most important thing I could be doing. A great man once wrote that there’s nothing more calming than the influence of money. I prefer to think that there’s nothing more calming than the influence of money doing something good. If it’s just sitting there doing nothing, it’s pointless. On the far wall was a quote I recognised instantly, given that I had made it, during my first public appearance as the Foundation’s owner.

“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.”

It was the main creed of the Foundation these days, and words that everyone tried hard to live by. More than anything else, I wanted that to be my legacy when I finally die. It was a feeling that underlined my last ‘funeral’, even if it wasn’t me in the coffin, and I really liked my eulogy. Looking around the top floor of offices, I fought hard to restrain my smile, then gave up, and let it out. Shaking my head at my own enthusiasm, I headed to the elevator, and pressed the button to go down to the company gym. All of this supernatural trickery had made me really want to hit something.

As the elevator doors parted on the fourteenth floor, I peered out into the darkness. I sighed. “The janitors must have assumed nobody was still in the building, and turned the lights off.” I mumbled to myself. No matter, though. I switched my night vision on, and…

“Huh. Odd.” The area in front of me was still pitch black.

Now, something which you may, or may not, know about night vision is that it doesn’t let you see in absolute darkness. Instead, it picks up on low level ambient light, and magnifies it – so, if I stood in a windowless room that was pitch black, I wouldn’t be able to see anything. However, the two-storey gym had high windows all around, and I was still picking up some light from the open elevator doors. In other words, I should have been able to see. Flexing my hand twice, I called the Fire Sword igniter into standby mode, and stepped out into the total darkness, as the lift doors slid shut behind me. Squeezing the igniter, the Fire Sword erupted into…nothingness. It wasn’t as if it wasn’t working, as I could feel the slight vibration of the unit emitting the contained ‘flame’…however, I could neither see, nor hear it. I edged backwards, to press my back against the elevator doors, only to discover that they, and the surrounding wall, had vanished.

I was all alone, in the pitch black darkness of nothingness.

The nothingness, however, seemed to lighten slightly, and I could start to discern shapes, and smell…things. Experimentally, I switched off my night vision, and looked around. I appeared to be standing on a grassy hill, overlooking a large patch of land with solid black shapes in the ground. I started my way towards it, when I noticed another shape out of the corner of my eye. A shape that started to move towards me, slowly. Shivering, I turned to face it, and watched its’ slow approach.

Looming over me by several feet (hey, I’m only 5’9) was a black robed, hooded individual, who was floating off the ground. I tried to look under the recesses of the hood, to see who it was, before shrugging it off.
“Sorry, man, I don’t have any change.”
The hooded figure did not move. I shook my head. “At least the last two had a sense of humour. You are the third ghost, I presume?”
Slowly, the hood bobbed down, and then up.
“Great. Let’s get this done, shall we? I have a party to get to.”
The figure slowly shrugged, and pointed off in the distance, away from the area I had been looking in.
“What? You want me to go this way?”
The figure nodded once again, slowly, so I walked in the direction it pointed, feeling its’ presence close behind me. I really didn’t care so much, until I felt its’ fingers on my shoulder. Turning to look, I saw glistening and shiny bones where its hand should be. The whole area span and lurched, and then I found myself…
…In my apartment. Looking around, I saw no glance of the ghost…or even of my furniture. The whole apartment was decorated differently, with beiges, wooden paneling – all stuff that might sound tacky to you, but was pretty much how I wanted things to be, before Emily had gotten through with her ‘all white’ furnishing kick. I nodded to myself. “Looks like Em finally came around to see things my way.” I smirked. “And why not? I am the man of the house.”
Then I quickly glanced over my shoulder, to make sure that she wasn’t around to hear me say such things.

What? I’m not stupid.

I heard a door click open, and before I could move, I saw an older version of me step into the room, closely followed by that damned ghost.
“Hey!” I called to it. “Looks like you messed up. Aren’t I supposed to be dead?”
The ghost merely stared at me.
“Don’t give me that.” I snorted. “I must have read A Christmas Carol a hundred times. Isn’t Scrooge supposed to be dead and unloved in the future you show him? You lose, matey.”
The ghost remained immobile, and I took a nice, leisurely walk around the apartment, stepping to one side so that the future version of myself could sit down on the dark brown leather sofa. “Ah, yes, I’ve beaten the Christmas Spirits. Ho ho ho, and all that. I win, you lose, I rock, you suck.”
The ghost gestured to the future version of myself, and I turned to the sofa, to see myself…crying, and holding a picture frame to his chest.
“What? What’s that for?” I asked my future self, frowning, not caring that he couldn’t hear me. However, the forlorn figure looked up, and turned to face me. I stared down at his eyes, which were disfocused…no, he wasn’t looking at me, just in my direction.
“You’re probably here now. Good.”
I blinked.
“I can’t hear you, or see you, but I can remember.” He smiled wryly. “I remember how sure I was that the third ghost was wrong, that I’d been proven right.” He sniffed back tears, and shook his head. “The ghosts are never wrong, believe me.
“Emily’s dead.”

I looked down in horror, and noticed that the future version of me was wearing a black suit, and a dark grey shirt, which had a large rip in the chest. “Because of my…your…our” my future self corrected himself “obsession with providing the basics for other people, Emily took little Sammy and left me a few years ago. I didn’t pay enough attention to either one of them, and Sammy had miserable holidays. He was bullied at school because he didn’t have the newest and best things, and so Emily took him away from us. They were at a toy shop buying him presents, and had come out when a drunk driver hit them both.” He shook his head. “Don’t let this happen, Jason!”
He tried to say more, but was overwhelmed by tears, and curled up on the sofa.

I turned back to the ghost. “Let’s go.”

***

“Where are we?” I looked around. “This isn’t my office, this is…hey, this is the orphanage I was just in!” I looked around – although I couldn’t be totally sure, it looked reasonably similar to the room I had been in earlier with the Spirit who had looked like Sarriss. “What’re we doing here?”
The door swung open, and an elderly man was escorting a young girl into the room. “This will be your room, Daphne.” He patted her shoulder. “Sorry, we haven’t had the time or the staff to get things cleaned away yet, but since The Tucker Foundation closed, our funding’s been cut dramatically.”
The girl nodded slowly, and looked around. “Who used to live here, Mister?”
“A girl named Cheryl.” The man removed his glasses. “She…we try to do our best here, Daphne, and look after all our charges, but Cheryl wasn’t…she wasn’t the nicest person. There was an incident a few days ago. Cheryl’s been taken off to a Juvenile Detention Facility – don’t worry yourself too much about it.”

Darkness started to overtake me again, and I looked at the ghost. “What sort of incident?”
The ghost looked at me for a moment, then reached up it’s skeletal hands to its’ hood, and pulled it away.

Emily stared down at me, her face pale, waxy…dead.
“The sort of incident that follows you around everywhere, Jay.”

There was nothing else for me to do. I screamed.

Chapter Three

1:47pm

Hang on…that took two hours? I glanced at my desk, and saw my cold Italian lunch sitting there.
‘Weird.’ I thought, then shrugged it off. ‘No matter. I wonder what this “something special” that Sammy cooked up is.’
“Maybe it’s Rikti.” I reasoned to myself. “Or maybe Hero One!”
I pondered over this slowly, as I sat at my desk and cut up the calamari on my desk, popping a bit into my mouth.
“I know…it’s Sammy. In a wig.”
There was a knock at my door, and I sighed. “Come in.”
The door opened, and in entered Sarriss, my partner. “Hey Jay.”
“Hey Sarriss. Nice get-up.”
“Thanks.” She mock curtsied, and sat down opposite me, stealing some squid as she did.

She was certainly dressed strangely, for her. Usually clad in a tight green and brown spandex one-piece, with a minimum of make-up (not that she needed much), she sat before me wearing a dull beige overcoat, had a tiara in her hair, and wore silver eye-shadow. She’d also applied something to her skin which made it seem lighter, and little silver sparkles glimmered at me from her cheeks.
“You’re a bit overdressed for the Christmas Party later, aren’t you?”
She grinned. “You like it?”
“It’s…different.” I allowed. “What’s with the mac?”
“It keeps me warm.”
“Okay.” I shrugged. “Man, you wouldn’t believe the day I’m having.”
“A bit odd, is it?” She smiled warmly.
“Something like that, yeah.”
She nodded. “Understandable. Christmas is always an interesting time of year. Full of laughter, and joy ever after…ours for the taking.”
“Just follow the master?” I grinned wryly.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing.” I chuckled. “So, you were saying?”
“Well, it’s a time where the world seems magical.” She threw her arms out wide. “Where anything is possible, absolutely anything. People can be nice to each other for a change, even fall in love.” She winked at me, and I shifted in my seat slightly. I knew she had feelings for me, but it was improper, despite being relegated to the couch until the New Year. She continued, oblivious to my discomfort. “The old and the new all coming together, and the ghosts of the past all surround us…”
“Wait, what?”
She lost her smile slightly. “The ghosts of the past?”
“Yeah, that. What makes you say that?”
She grinned toothily at me. “Maybe it’s because I’m getting into the Christmas spirit! Or maybe it’s because I know the true meaning of Christmas. Or maybe…just maybe…” She stood, and flung her overcoat off.
“Maybe it’s because I’m your next appointment.”

I stared at Sarriss.
Well, to be more precise, I stared at her clothing. What little there was of it, anyway.

Sarriss had always had a strange modesty about her body. I understood her reason for it – she had grown up an ugly duckling, and an attempted murder had caused her to receive her super-strength and reflexes, and also mutilated her. Although plastic surgeons had given her a new face, and her new metabolism had burned a lot of fat away from her system, she still always saw herself as a dumpy, unattractive woman.
The woman in front of me, however, wore silver bikini briefs, and a tight silver sports bra which did absolutely nothing to disguise her large chest. She smiled at me, and winked.
“Sammy wanted you to have a better looking guide than Anson was.”
“Yeah, but…” I found my voice. “You’re not dead.”
She laughed, a strange, lilting laughter which I’d never heard from her before.
“Not quite, no. “
“Then how…?”
She span around in a graceful pirouette, and beamed at me. “Ghosts are dead. They’re of the past – it’s all they can ever know. They have no brain functions, and can’t learn. They’re incapable of it.”
“Okay, so what are you.”
“I’m…me!” She laughed, and danced around me happily.
“Right, but that doesn’t help.”
“I’m borne of each moment, in every place, at every time. I’m the Spirit of Now, and the now is Christmas!”
“I’m sorry, but…if you’re the Spirit of Now, then why do you look like my friend?”
“Your dead companion, Sammy, pulled my form out of the thoughts and dreams of your Sarriss Groundwalker.”
“Dreams? It’s two pm!”
The Spirit shrugged. “She’s sleeping in. It’s Christmas Eve.”
“So I keep hearing.”
“Sleeping in, and having some very…interesting dreams.” She winked at me again.
‘Great.’ I mused to myself. ‘I have proposals a read, a wife who’s annoyed with me, and now I have to deal with a horny spirit. I don’t have time for this.’
“I don’t have time for this.”
“Ahh, but Jay, honey. We have all the time in the world.” Not-Sarriss snapped her fingers, and…nothing happened.
“See?”
I looked around. “See what?”
“I just stopped time.”
I nodded slowly. “Of course you have.”
“Oh, Jay!” She tittered, and pranced around me. “You’re so disbelieving. Trust me, I stopped time for everyone but us.”
“Prove it.”
She stopped dancing, and stood in front of me, crossing her arms and pouting. “What?”
“Prove that you’ve stopped time.”
She smiled slightly. “Check your watch.”
As I rolled up my shirt sleeve, she shook her head. “Humans. So mistrustful. With all the wonders you’ve seen, and heard, and experienced, you still don’t believe me when I say I can stop time?”
I looked at my watch, and sighed. “Okay, so you’ve stopped time. Either that, or you’ve stopped my watch – I can’t decide which would be more irritating.”
The Spirit scowled, and grabbed me by my hair.
“Look, you little human whelp. It’s Christmas time, it’s a time for joy, and laughter, and presents, and happiness, so stop being a grouch and bloody well celebrate it!”
She let go, and I rubbed my scalp. “That was unseasonable, wouldn’t you say?”
“What was?” She smiled innocently, and resumed dancing around my office.
I sighed. “Look, can you just show me whatever it is you want to show me so we can get on with this?”
She stopped, made a show of thinking it over, and grinned. “Okay.” And made an adjustment to her costume.
“Yes, those are nice,” I started, averting my eyes, “But can we get back to the reason you’re actually here?”
“Oh, fine.” I heard her remark, and a few moments later, she giggled. “I put them away now, you can look.”
I rolled my eyes, and turned back to her. “You’re worse than Sammy.”
Her grin got bigger. “Why, thank you! Well, shall we get started?”
“Oh, Christ yes.”
“Well, then, take my hand…unless there’s another body part you want to grab?”
“Your hand is fine.” And I firmly grabbed her hand.

Lurching, room spinning…yes, yes, yes, I’ve done this, it’s no big deal…and then, suddenly, we were in a well lit room, where a small child sat, hunched up into a ball, with her head on her arms.
I frowned, and nodded over to her. “What’s her story?”
“Hmm?”
I looked over to the Spirit, who was busy swinging our held hands back and forth. “Her story. Who is she?”
“Ohh, I forget her name.”
“Well, you’re a great carer, aren’t you?”
She squeezed my hand, hard, and I let out a yelp. “Watch it, Jason.”
“Okay, okay. So, why is she here?”
She let up pressure on my hand, and shrugged slightly. “She’s an orphan. This is one of the orphanages that your Foundation set up and maintains. The first one, in fact.”
“It is?” I looked around at the clean, tidy room the girl was in. There were toys, games, and posters dotted around the room, and it looked like a very nice, cheerful place. “I see it’s money well spent, then.”
The spirit scowled at me. “Not enough money well spent, if you ask me.”
“What do you mean?”
The Spirit let go of my hand, and clicked her fingers. Suddenly, the room, the girl, and noises outside all came to life, as if I were watching a movie suddenly start after being paused. The girl was, as I had surmised, crying softly in her room, and there was a knock at the door.
“Cheryl? Can I come in?”
The girl, Cheryl, lifted her head up, and sniffed once. “Sure.”
The door opened, and a large black woman came in, sporting a smile which I’m sure must have hurt her face, but she didn’t seem to care. She was decked out in festive finery, from her flashing reindeer earrings, to her Santa hat, all the way down to her red and white stripped leggings.
“Cheryl, what’s the matter?”
Cheryl shrugged. “I just miss my parents.”
“Oh, Cheryl, honey.” The black woman walked through me, and sat down on the bed next to Cheryl, putting a meaty arm around her. “They’d want you to be happy. You’re safe, you’re warm, that nice Mr Tucker made sure you’re going to get a good education – a full scholarship!”
I couldn’t resist myself. I turned to face the Spirit, and I stuck my tongue out.
“Yes, well done, Jason, you’re a real Saint. But what about more…immediate needs?”
“Such as?” I crossed my arms, and smirked at the Spirit, who merely shook her head.
“Come on, Cheryl, cheer up.” The woman said kindly. “You’ve got lots of friends here, and tomorrow we’re having a huge meal, with more than enough food for everyone. There’ll be games to play, a band’s coming for us to dance, too. Tomorrow’s going to be wonderful, just like last year, and the year before.”
“Yeah, I know. But…it’s not right, having Christmas without any good presents.”

The Spirit snapped her fingers again, and the world, once again, froze. She approached me, and jabbed a finger into my chest.
“It isn’t right, having Christmas without any presents, she said.”
I stared. “She gets presents. All the orphans do. She said good presents. I’m sorry I can’t individually pick out presents for each orphan based on what their parents would have gotten them, but that would be impossible to do!”
The Spirit looked at me mournfully, and turned her back on me, as if I’d offended her.
I was about to protest, but a thought occurred to me.

“Wait. Wait, hang on, here. Is that what you’re trying to tell me? That Christmas is all about…commercialism? Toy trends, and selfishness?”
“Duh.”
“What about all that…‘peace on Earth’ stuff? Season of goodwill, and all that? What about Belleau Wood in World War One?”
The Spirit sniffed softly, and I realised that, somehow, in some way, I’d upset her. I put a hand on her shoulder.
“Spirit, are you crying?”
“No.” She stamped her foot. “Yes. I mean…” She turned to face me. “All I ever wanted for Christmas was a single, solitary Barbie doll I could dress up. But my parents…”
“Spirits have parents?”
“No, you idiot, Sarriss’ parents. The Wilks?”
“Ohh, right.”
“They said that Barbie wasn’t a ‘real’ woman, she was an idealised idea of beauty, made into plastic and rubber, and mass-marketed for people with no sense. She had no flaws, no imperfections…”
“I dunno.” I smiled at her. “Her feet were tiny.”
She laughed. “True. But, I mean…a Barbie doll? And I was refused that? Now I have to watch other people go through the same fate?” She shrugged. “Christmas is about being with family, yeah. But it’s mostly about getting cool stuff, and feeling important, and special, and cool.”
She sighed, and smiled slightly. “Tell you, what, though.”
“What?” I smiled back.
“Look up.”
I did as she said, and saw…
“Oh, no.”
“Yup.” She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and grinned. “Merry Christmas.”
Then she kissed me, and, as the room span, I really and truly hoped it was because I was being sent back to my office.

Chapter Two

5:57am

“What the hell? JASON!”
Ahh, yes. The joys of matrimony. Whatever happened to those days when a husband would come home and be greeted warmly by his apron wearing, hair-in-curlers wife, who took his briefcase, asked about his day, and went to fetch his pipe?
TV lied to me.
Then again, I don’t think any of the characters in those old black and white sitcoms had started out their romantic relationships with one of them nearly killing the other. Twice.
Ain’t love grand?
“Jason Temple-Tucker, you wake up this instant! What the hell is this mess?”
I cracked my eyes open slightly. Emily, still wearing her glasses and business suit, glared down at me.
“You know…” I started. “Those glasses don’t frame your face very well.”
Judging by the look that my comment earned me, I doubted that humour would be the best approach.
“What’s this goop? And why’re you downstairs? Something could have happened to Sammy, and you’d be down here and unable to help him!”
Sammy.

That ghostly swine.

I sat up in an instant, and looked around. Traces of the ectoplasm were dripping from the walls, ceiling, and me.
Emily shook her head. “Do I really want to know what you were doing?”
I shrugged. “The ceiling fan made a mess of…”
“OH!” Emily looked like she was trying to not retch. “That is absolutely disgusting! I know guys do…well…that, but you’re married, now.”
“What? No, Em, wait…”
“Aren’t I enough for you?”
“Yeeeaaaah, baby!”
I glared down at my belt. Sammy’s mouth was still there, smirking. Emily didn’t notice the mouth, she merely punched me.
Hard.
In the face.
“Just for that, you’ll be on the couch for the rest of the month.”
I scowled, and wiped Sammy’s mouth from my belt before he could protest. “Em, wait, that wasn’t me.”
She cocked her fist at me. “Want another?”
I sighed. “It was Sammy.”
Em’s eyes goggled at me. Literally goggled. “Are you blaming…all this…on my son?”
‘Sure, when he’s done nothing wrong, he’s your son. When he’s messed up, it’s my spawn.’ I blinked. ‘Ew. Spawn.’ I shivered momentarily, although I wasn’t sure why.
“No, I’m blaming it on Sammy. Edwards. You know, guy who used to live with us? My best friend? You killed him?”
“I know who Sammy Edwards is. But how…”
“He came back as a ghost.”
Emily stared at me, then put her hand on my shoulder. “Jay…I know that people can get depressed at this time of year, but Sammy’s gone. Why would he come back as a ghost on Christmas Eve?”
“He kept going on about sleeping with my mum.”
I didn’t like the twinkle in Emily’s eyes. “That sounds like Sammy.”
“He also said something about three ghosts visiting me.”
She laughed. “Oh, come on. What is this, A Christmas Carol? You’re no Ebenezer Scrooge, you’ve helped millions of people.”
“Yeah, but he seemed to think that I’d spend all eternity wearing furry handcuffs.”
Emily smirked. “Maybe if you’re lucky.”
“Em…”
“Next month. You’re on the couch, remember?”
I sighed. “Yes, Em.”

It was going to be a long day.

***

11:56am

I watched the clock from my office in the Tucker Foundation headquarters (which was, in all fairness, a short elevator ride away from my apartment) as it ticked ever slowly towards noon.
“This is stupid.” I muttered to myself. “Absolutely stupid. There’s no way anything’s going to happen. At all.”
I tried to immerse myself in the latest project proposal from the Paragon City Planning Committee. Something about fixing up Baumton, in time for some event which would co-incide with the opening of Wentworths. Pushing my glasses up to my forehead, I sighed. I had absolutely no idea when the Tucker Foundation had become a source of income for Paragon, but it was getting a little bit silly. I mean, the Foundation had almost single-handedly funded the rebuilding of Overbrook, which was still an on-going task. It had cost millions of dollars just to get the small section that was habitable up and running, and it was barely a third done. On top of that, they wanted Baumton redone as well?

I had created the Foundation to pay for a better way of life for people adversely affected by the war. Yeah, so Paragon was hit worse than anywhere else, but…there’s a huge difference between helping a child with no surviving family be able to get proper medical attention and attend a decent university, and letting a certain Italian restaurant open up.
Admittedly, I was fond of Bianco’s, as well as it’s always joyful owner, Melissa – who always insisted that I never had to pay for anything, which was nice of her.
‘Speaking of Bianco’s’ I thought to myself, ‘I think it’s time for lunch.’.
I sent a quick e-mail to my assistant, asking for an order of the Farro al Nero di Seppia, and leaned back in my chair, lost in thoughts.

Just then, the clock chimed noon.

“That’s odd.” I said out loud. “My clock doesn’t –have- a chime…” My voice drifted off as I thought about the possibilities.
“Oh, no.”

There was a faint knock on my window. I knew…just knew…it was going to be the first ghost that Sammy had promised would show. Turning around slowly, I caught my first glimpse of the vision in front of me, and frowned. That was no ghost.

I opened my window, and leaned out. “Excuse me, but do you have an appointment?”
The man in front of me, gleaming white and silver, chuckled. “Nope.”
“Then, would you mind terribly making one, if you want to talk to me? I’m in the phone book.”
The man smiled at me easily. “I just wanted to see if you wanted to team up and go to Crey’s Folly. Lots of Rikti Monkey sightings have been reported at the Paragon Water Works. Easy pickings, too – we’ll get a lot of acclaim and influence for five minutes work; a real bargain.”
“Some other time, perhaps.”
“Oh, come on, Guardian. Come to The Works and get a bargain.”
I chuckled. “Some other time, Weas.”
My friend shrugged, and flew off, allowing me to close my window. Shaking my head, I turned around, and stared right into the face of Mike Anson.

“Hello, Jason. Sorry I’m late, but getting here…well, that was absolute murder.”

***

Mike looked very much like he did the last time I’d seen him. Unfortunately for me, the last time I saw him, I had fired a bullet right between his eyes, and his ghost still bore the wound. His mouth was the only part of him that looked even remotely normal…the upper part of his face had caved in, and although he was translucent, I could clearly see ghostly worms and maggots feeding on what was left of his spectral brain, and clear through his skull.

It put me off the very thought of eating – at least for the next few decades or so.

“You’re the first ghost Sammy told me about, then?”
Mike clapped slowly, a difficult task in and of itself, since his arms had been twisted at grotesque angles. “I’ll give you this much, Jason, your keen powers of observation have served you well.” He looked around the office. “This is what you’ve done to my office, is it?”
I snorted. “My office, which you stole from me, and no. This is a different building, in Overbrook.”
“Where?”
“Faultline.”
“Ahh, yes.” Mike made a show of examining his nails. “How very exciting it must all be for you.”
I sighed. “Mike…or should I call you Anthony?”
He grinned, and his whole face twisted when he smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant sight. “Whichever one will serve you best.”
“Mike, then.”
“So be it.”
“What’re you here to tell me, or show me?”
“Ah. I’m here to explain to you the true meaning of Christmas.”
Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “I’m Jewish, Mike. I don’t care about the true meaning of Christmas.”
“Of course you do. Everyone does.” He reached out with his mangled arm. “Take my hand – we’re going to take a little stroll into the past.”
I eyed his hand nervously, and Mike must have seen my expression, although I don’t know how he could have, since he had no eyes.
“Don’t give me that. Stop being such a baby, and take my hand!”
“Fine!” I grabbed his hand, and I shivered uncontrollably. Whereas Sammy’s ectoplasmic body was certainly unpleasant after he had been ripped apart by my ceiling fan, it still felt like, well, Sammy – as if the very essence of Sammy Edwards were made real. Mike, on the other hand, felt…cold. As if evil itself had been made a tangible thing you could touch, and pick up, and hold. If this was the distilled essence of Mike Anson, then I should have killed him long before I did.

“Close your eyes.”
“What?”
He sighed, a long, drawn out breath that chilled me when it hit me.
“I said, close your eyes, Tucker.”
I closed my eyes, sighing a breath of my own. “This is a pointless exercise.”
“Open them.”
My eyes flew open in an instant. “See, was that…really…necessary…?”
I looked around. This was…well…impossible!
Mike noticed my shock, and smiled again. I had to repress a shudder.
“That’s right, Tucker. Welcome home.”

We were in a small office building overlooking the Hitchin Town market square. I rushed to the nearest window, and stared out of it in wonder. “Look!” I pointed. “There’s the Coach & Horses! I used to drink there every Thursday night. Great karaoke.” I gestured to the right. “And there’s the pizzeria I used to eat at.” I blinked. “Hang on…this must be S.I.B!”
“That’s right.”
“The market research company I worked at through college. But…this place closed down a few years ago. It said in the papers that nobody really cared about S.I.B anymore.”
“And yet,” Mike made a grand gesture with his arms, “Here we are.” He smirked. “Or, to be more precise, Tucker…there you are.”
I looked over my shoulder, and, sure enough, wearing an ill-fitting navy suit…was me.
“I don’t believe it.”
Mike came up to stand alongside me. “Neither do I. Blue is certainly not your colour. Then again, it suits you better than black and red.”
I glanced over at my old enemy. “Don’t you have better things to do than critique my fashion sense?”
“Nope. Not until you go into that office, there, anyway.”
“The office?” I stared blankly, then looked over to where the old wall-clock used to sit. Sure enough, it was there, displaying the time, as well as the date.
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.” Mike smirked at me. “You’re about to be fired. On Christmas Eve, no less.”
“I stand by my choice, you know. Even now.”
“Good for you. Want to go in and watch you get canned? Again?”
Before I could answer, Mike walked right past me. “Come on, hurry up! If we’re quick, we can watch it from the beginning!” He ran through the wall, passing as easily through it as…well, the bullet had gone through his skull. I sighed, and walked towards the wall. Putting my hand up to test it, I found it to be solid.
“You need to build up momentum.” Mike said, sounding muffled through the glass. Inside, I could see my younger self being told off by my manager.
I nodded, backed up, and ran, full force, into the wall.
Which I then rebounded right off, collapsing in a heap. Mike opened the office door, and beckoned me inside.
“That hurt, dammit.” I scowled.
“Call it revenge.”
“For what?”
Mike seemed to glare at me for a second. “Oh, I don’t know. How about shooting me in the face?”
I sighed. “Let it go.”
He shrugged, and helped me to my feet. We went inside, just as my old manager, Mr Foster, was finishing up his speech.
“…It’s totally unacceptable. What were you thinking, Tucker?”
My younger self shrugged. “It’s Christmas Eve, sir. People want to spend time with their families, not be on the phone answering questions.”
“It’s Christmas Eve, Tucker, which means people will be at home with their families, which means that our entire demographics can be hit in one night! It’s a busy night, and everyone else is hard at work, getting their bonuses. What are you doing?”
“Well, sir, I’m…”
“You’re doing nothing, Tucker. Not for S.I.B anymore, anyway. I’m sorry, but your attitude is terrible. Hand in your headset, and clear out your desk.”
The younger me stared at Mr Foster for a second, and I shook my head. “What an [censored].”
“He has a good sense for business, Jason, like it or not.”
“I’ll choose not.”
I walked out of the office in disgust. “Didn’t Foster die a few weeks after this?” I eyed the wall-clock. “Caught some weird bug and just keeled over at his desk?”
“Something like that, yeah.” Mike said, still in the office.
“What’re you doing?”
Mike picked up Fosters cup of coffee, and spat in it. “Oh, nothing.”
I stared. “What…did you just do?”
He grinned. “Some weird bug, you say? Just died, in a few weeks?”
“You….you didn’t.”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “You’re welcome.” He grabbed my hand, without warning, and I felt the ground lurch beneath me. The world span, and we were suddenly back in my office.
“Oops. Should have warned you to close your eyes again. That was my fault, sorry.”
I shook my head. “So, what was the point of that little visit?”
Mike just grinned. “You’ll figure it out, eventually, Tucker.” He looked up at my clock. “My, my, look at that. Nearly time for your next appointment. I hear Edwards has arranged something really special, too.” He chuckled. “You take care, Tucker. And I think I’ll be seeing you, real soon.”

Before I could ask what Mike meant by that, he’d already vanished, leaving just two more words floating in the air.

“Real soon.”