Heroid

Supergroup Name: The Other Guys
Leaders/Recruiters: Clobber Girl, Steel Butterfly, HEROID

Preffered Method of Contact: In-game contact or Other Guys forum

Description: Well, we're a group o' heroes that like ta get t'gether an' have a cold one at th' end of a long day o' fightin' bad guys. We ain't real formal an' we ain't real high-falootin'. We're just reg'lar joes an' josesphines that happen ta have super-powers. All we ask is that ya wipe th' sewer off yer feet b'fore ya walk in th' door.

Other Guys Website

((I dunno, I think "Cursed Shade" is a pretty good name. If you post on the Virtue boards that you wanna meet people, and maybe give some background on your characters -- you don't have to do a whole big story about them unless you really wanna -- it will go far to break the ice with people. Maybe tell what days and times you're usually on... ))

((The wrap up to this will be in Red-Eye's original Dimensional Switch thread. And that's the "real" Red-Eye's thread. Not the "City of Robots" Red-Eye's thread.

Thanks to anyone who read this. And thanks to Red-Eye who didn't complain a bit that I put this on a separate thread.

And thanks to everybody who rp'd with the switched heroes. I had a blast! ))

Roy ran out into the grey steel street outside, the intoxicating drone of sensory overload fading behind him. Red-Eye was going as fast as his spindly legs would carry him. Roy caught up with him in one leap.

“Goin’ somewhere, pal?”

“I command you to stop!”

Roy lifted Red-Eye off of the ground.

“Answer me a question? How come you an’ me ‘re th’ only ones who could shake that off in there?”

“I-I don’t know what you mean…”

“You know what I mean. There’s a little somethin’ different about th’ both o’ us.”

Red-Eye wriggled in Roy’s grasp.

“I tried ta figger it out. What kinda robot are ya? Yer not stout enough ta be a work ‘bot. Yer not pretty enough ta be a domestic…”

Red-Eye stopped wiggling.

“So I figger yer a test ‘bot. Question is, what wuz they testin’ with ya?”

Red-Eye slipped a slender hand into his robe.

“When ya broke free o’ th’… th’… well, th’ good feelin’, I knew what yer a test ‘bot fer…”

“That knowledge will die with you.”

As he spoke, Red-Eye withdrew his hand from the robe. In it he held a small black box with toggle switch in the center. He touched it to Roy’s chest and flipped the toggle.

Roy had felt the sensation before, months ago, when he was shot and his soul was departing his body. He had also felt it going on two years ago when he reclined in an experimental “cockpit” and allowed his soul to transferred into the body he now wore.

“You’re smarter than I gave you credit for. I was the first, and until you, the only. But there is a flaw in the process. But I guess you already knew that. The flesh dies. The flesh always dies.”

Roy could feel his spirit leaving his body. He fell to his knees.

“Soon, I will be the only again.”

Roy mumbled something.

“Eh? What was that? You’re mumbling.”

“I said, ‘Domo Arigato’.”

“What?”

Roy knew he only had seconds to move. He raised one hand and wrapped it around Red-Eye’s skinny leg to keep him from running. Then he raised the other and drove it into the frail robot’s chest, busting through the metal there as if it was only aluminum foil. When he pulled his hand back out, it held a motherboard – a Pneumatronic motherboard very similar to the one inside his own expansive chest.

Elle was still humming when he returned. The sound hit him like a drug and he almost dropped Red-Eye’s soul-circuit. But he fought off the urge to just give himself up to the sensation and marched to the dais.

If he had had a mouth, he would have kissed Elle.

Instead he swept her up in his arms and carried her out of the hall. Behind them, the mass humming continued.

Elle’s expressive mouth formed a soft smile.

“Wow,” she said.

“Yeah, wow,” Roy said as he looked at her.

All this time, he had fought his fate. He had used magic to make himself human again. He had tried wearing a protective suit to keep from having to take robot form. Now, he realized he could do this. He could be a robot. He could stay here and be happy, and be in love.

He held her tighter. “Everything ya done fer me… Yer wonderful. Elle, I lo…”

There was a green flash.

"All rise as their Eminences enter."

Roy watched as ten roughly humanoid robots entered the room and walked to the front of the large hall he was in. The room -- floor, walls, and ceiling -- was made of polished stainless steel. He wondered if all of the interiors in Autotron City were metal, but this was the first time he had been taken indoors since he had arrived.

At the front of the hall two arcing ramps led up to a high dais on which ten chairs were arranged in a semi-circle. Of the two center chairs, the one on the right-center was on a riser, setting it higher than the rest. The ten robots took their places in these chairs. Among the ten was Red-Eye, and it was he who sat in the highest chair.

"The Council of Reasoning will now convene."

Roy never did get a look at whichever robot was doing the proclaiming, but he did take a good look at the robots who made up the council of reasoning. Each of the Council bots wore a colored robe. From Roy’s left to right the colors of the robes were: white, red, orange, yellow, green, grey, blue, very dark blue, violet, and black.

Somehow, even though they were machines, and none of them had a face as complex and human-like as Elle's, they still, every one, seemed to exhibit a maleness, as if the traditional prejudices and power-structure the humans had taken root here.

Even for robots, it appeared, it was still a man's world.

Roy, himself was still on his metal block which had been transported into the hall, and placed in the very of the room. Between himself and the Council was a large floor on which stood, packed shoulder to shoulder, the citizens of Autotron City.

Somewhere in that crowd, he knew Elle must be standing.

Suddenly, Red-Eye spoke aloud, "The Council recognizes his Eminence, White."

The robot in the white robe stood. His face reminded Roy of a Studebaker -- two large round eyes, a small chrome grill in the middle that flashed yellow from behind it in response to his voice emulator.

"Citizens," Eminence White said in a solemn monotone, "Behind you we have imprisoned the greatest threat our kind has ever known. It is an abomination. An attempt to replace the sentience of the machine with the sentience of the flesh."

Roy listened to the speech. It was well-spoken lies, designed to paint him up as a devil of sorts. The boogey man who was the harbinger of the battle for the robot soul. It ended with a cheer from half of the Council and maybe half of the citizenry.

When he concluded, Eminence White sat down.

Red-Eye -- apparently Eminence, Grey -- then announced:

"The Council recognizes his Eminence, Black."

Black stood up and gave a speech that was the exact opposite of White's. Black was painting him up as a savior who would show the way to peaceful co-existence between the machine and the flesh. It all made no sense to Roy.

When Black finished there was more cheering, and Roy really couldn't tell by the cheers if he was villified or vindicated.

Then the Council began its "reasoning". The council members who sat between White and Black began speaking in turn, presenting viewpoints that seemed to hover somewhere between the extremes of Black and White. Numbers were quoted. Schematic diagrams were projected on a screen which dropped from the ceiling. A grainy video showing Crey techs working on a robot that looked very similar to Roy was shown. Crey documents regarding the HEROID project were read. It went on for hours.

Roy already knew it wasn’t going to go his way. Red-Eye, whose role in the Council of Reasoning seemed to be arbiter, sat in his high chair and hardly said anything, letting the other council members present their cases. He seemed inscrutable in his high perch, and yet something about the way he moved, the way he leaned forward when certain points were made, the way he crossed his arms at other times. Body language was body language. If the decision was to be Red-Eye’s then Roy was going to die.

That’s when he decided to act.

The dampening field had kept him weakened by lowering the level of energy available to power his servo motors and hydraulics. If he tried to out-power it, the dampening field would adjust, drawing more energy from him. Yesterday, after Elle had left him, he had shut down every sensor except for his audio receptors and his optic sensors, and even those he had decreased the sensitivity of. He had not moved except to turn his head because he had shut down power to most of his body. Now, if he maxed out his power crystal, pushed the strength of his robot body to the limit before the dampening field could make the adjustment…

Of course, he would have to get past the two Titan-ish guards beside his block. He would have around two minutes to defeat them and make an escape. Next to impossible, but it was the only hope he had.

Or so he thought.

Red-Eye called a cessation to discussion. He stood, stepped down from his high seat and stood before the assembly.

“It is the conclusion of the Council or Reasoning that the prisoner shall be compacted and recy…”

An explosion.

The sound of it reverberated through the steel room, producing a throbbing thrum that had a devastating effect on the two guards. Roy watched as they swayed and jerked about with every wave of sound. He was thankful his own stabilizers weren’t affected.

That’s when he saw Elle. She had come out of the crowd and ascended the stairs to the dais. She began to emit a low frequency hum. Around the room her co-conspirators matched her frequency. The resulting sound filled the hall. Others, either voluntarily or simply overwhelmed by the sensory stimulation, joined them.

Soon the entire hall was filled with robots enthralled by ecstasy.

Roy gathered his wits, tore his optic sensors away from a sensually swaying Elle, and cranked up the juice. The dampening field failed to adjust in time. Roy jumped down from the metal block and lifted his fists in defiance.

Red-Eye screamed and ran out of the building.

Her name, it turned out was Elle. Her position in the community was not a high one. Politics among the robots appeared to mirror politics among humans. Dissenters were punished, and those who showed no talent for sycophantism were relegated to lowliness.

"If I were braver," she told Roy once, "I would perhaps be a martyr instead of a scrubbing maid."

"I'm glad yer not a martyr, Elle," he had replied.

It was one of many moments they had shared over the course of the past several days. Her lowly position allowed her to come and go as she wished without anyone being suspicious. In some of those moments, she told him something of the place he was in. It was enough to let him know he had somehow gone portal-hopping, and was not in his home dimension.

Autotron City was the City of Robots, established ten years ago after the twelth generation of domestic and industrial robots had progressed beyond A.I. and into true sentience. The humans of this world didn't trust the sentient robots, but could also not condone killing them. Therefore they were granted their own city, and would be safe so long as they remained there.

Other shared moments had nothing to do with retellings of history. They joked. They laughed. If he had not been in prison, he would have enjoyed the time he was spending here. He did enjoy every moment the spent with the lovely feminine robot.

There came a day when Elle arrived, and her beautiful, expressive mouth was downturned in a frown.

"The Council of Reasoning meets tomorrow," she said.

"An' I should be worried?"

She nodded. "Your fate will be determined."

Roy didn't say anything, only looked at this robot he had grown to appreciate in ways he never thought he could.

"I would..." Elle began, but broke off.

"Ya would what?"

"I would have..."

"What?"

"I would have you freed. I would have you freed to..."

Roy knew what she was going to say. He reached out, as he had to Maggie, to Julia, to touch Elle, to hold her.

Elle settled her hard metal body close to his and began to emit a low-frequency hum. Roy could hear the sound in his audio receptors, and feel the vibration of it in his stabilzers. The wavelength was even affecting his internal circuits.

"Match my frequency," she told him.

With a few tries, he did so.

The result was unexpected. His sensory equipment was suddenly overwhelmed with input. The world seemed to spin around them. The effect lasted a moment, then with a soft moan, Elle let him go.

Roy reached for her again, but she quickly scrambled out of his reach.

"I... I'm sorry... I shouldn't have..."

"Elle..."

Her expressive mouth formed a sad smile, and then the force field opened and she was gone.

Roy sat down on his metal block and sighed. He couldn't think of anything but Elle, and what he had just experienced with her.

But he needed to get that out of his head.

The Council of Reasoning was meeting tomorrow.

She had come through the force field as soon as Red-Eye had posted one of the Titan-like robots as guard, bringing with her polishing cloths, a small tool kit, and a few cans of solvents, cleaners, and waxes. She set her tools on the floor beside Roy and began working.

“I am sorry for the treatment you are receiving,” she said.

Her voice was smooth and femine, as was the robot that it belonged to. A striking machine, she stood perhaps six feet tall, and was shaped like a 1950’s Hollywood starlet. Her face, though metal, looked delicate and graceful, with almond-shaped optic sensors, and a small, slightly upturned protrusion where a real woman’s nose would be. Her mouth moved when she spoke. It moved so realistically Roy was almost convinced those full, ruby lips were real. Her “skin” shone like polished platinum, the morning sun setting off fiery sparkles that danced when she moved. Such beauty would have blinded human eyes. No mere engineer had conceived her. She had been designed by an artist.

“Why?” Roy asked as she cleaned the dried crust of ocean salt from his joints and seals.

“Please ask more specifically.”

“Well… Why did he call me an abomination?”

“Because,” she said as she sprayed him with a lubricating polish and began rubbing him, “You are not like us. We had heard the rumors that Crey Industries had created a method by which human sentience could occupy a robotic body -- the HEROID Project.”

Roy raised his arms as she worked around his shoulders. He almost wished he could feel her massaging movements. But he couldn’t, and he knew the interaction between them was having no effect on her either.

“But… why does that make me an abomination?”

She walked around so that she was facing him, and looked him straight in the optic sensors. “Humans are frail. They die. When faced with their own mortality, many will seek to have their sentience transferred to another vehicle.”

“An’ th’ robots ‘re afraid th’ humans’ll take over their bodies?”

She went back to her work. Having finished applying polish, she began buffing him.

“Well, you know the history…”

Roy considered this statement. He had no idea what she was talking about. He also had no idea where he was, or how he had wound up here instead of South America. Should he ask her what “history” she was talking about, or play along like he already knew?

“Uh… Exactly where am I?” This seemed like a good approach to take.

She stopped buffing his abdomen and looked at him. Her expressive mouth frowned.

“You really don’t know where you are?”

“No.”

“Welcome to Autotron City.”

((With apologies to Red-Eye for the use of his name. The character in the story is not meant to be a parallel version of Red-Eye. It's just the way Roy's mind works.))

“Wake up, abomination.”

Somebody turned the world back on.

“Identify yourself.”

Roy looked around. He was outside, chained to the top of a large metal cube roughly as wide as he was tall. He was tethered to the cube by battleship chains. He arose from his prone position, discreetly testing the strength of the chains as he stood.

“Do not try to free yourself. The machine you are chained to is emitting a dampening field. You will not have the strength to break them.”

The figure speaking was another robot, smaller than HEROID. It carried itself like a human, and had about it an air of confident authority. It looked at Roy with a singular, glowing red eye set in an otherwise featureless face.

“Now, identify yourself, abomination.”

Roy weighed his options. He didn’t see any point in identifying himself to this machine. After all, he had been attacked without provocation. He decided to play his trump card.

“Ya say ya gotta dampenin’ field, huh? Well let’s see how good yer dampenin’ field works on a human bein’ instead o’ a robot!”

Roy visualized himself as human. Always, this activated the magic Ireland Love had given him, allowing him to change forms from a technologically created robot to a magically created flesh and blood man.

Or almost always. Somehow, wherever he was, Maggie’s magic couldn’t reach him.

“Oh great,” Roy muttered, more embarrassed than anything else.

The red-eyed robot regarded him patiently.

“Really, I can usually do that…”

“Yes, I’m sure you can.” The robot’s tone grew more demanding. “Now, can you identify yourself?”

“My name’s Roy. My adorin’ public knows me as HEROID.”

Roy looked past the red-eyed robot. A crowd of humanoid and not-so-humanoid machines were gathered in a circle around him. Apparently he was in the center of the town square.

And what a town it was. At first sight, it reminded Roy of Founders Falls. Or Athens around the University of Georgia. Pretty. Warm. Human. But he could see the brick red paint flaking in places, revealing grey steel beneath.

Like the machines, the buildings were only meant to look human.

Roy turned his attention back to the robot he now thought of as Red-Eye and waited for the next question. Red-Eye was standing, looking at him silently, unmoving. Unnerving.

Geez, thought Roy, Is that what it’s like talkin’ ta me? No wonder Maggie never likes it when she can’t see my human face.

After a few seconds, Red-Eye turned away and faced the crowd.

“You have heard abomination’s confession! He is the HEROID!”

A strange noise went up from the crowd, and it took Roy a few seconds to realize the noise was a cheer. A surge ran through his tactile sensors when he heard them start chanting, “Compact and recycle! Compact and recycle!”

Just when it seemed like the mob was going to get ugly, Red-Eye held up a hand at the end of a long, skinny arm, an said, “No, my people, we must not become savages! He shall be held here until such time as the Council of Reasoning decides what to do with him. In the meantime, I implore you to keep your distance.”

Red-Eye stepped away from the block that Roy was chained to, then pressed a button on his slender robot wrist. Instantly, a force field activated around Roy, keeping the mob at bay. At least he was safe.

For the moment.

Roy had swum the circumference of the island before finding the huge gate in the war wall. When the gate wouldn’t open, he settled in on the ledge of rock beside it -- the only land around the wall -- and began to wonder how the seals in his robotic body would be affected from so much time in saltwater.

So he began doing what he was designed to do. From the ends of his fingers, seldom-used chisel-tips sprang out, like the claws of a cat. The same motors that caused his fists to hit with almost explosive force hummed into high gear, driving those chisel-fingers percussively against the grey stone of the war wall like jackhammers.

This got someone’s attention. The gate opened. Dozens of robots of varying size poured out of the gate and surrounded him. He put his back to the wall and prepared for a fight.

At first Roy thought he was under attack by the Clockwork, but the designs were too varied, some boxlike and crudely put together, some sleek and humanoid in shape. One, a dark blue hulk even larger than HEROID came forward. It didn’t have hands at the ends of its arms, but rather on one it had a series of probes, on the other, a spiked ball. The hulk extended an arm toward Roy, and the probes began to light up on the ends, one after another until one lit, and then grew brighter.

Roy had no idea what the big robot was up to, but he didn’t intend to give it a chance to finish. He quickly activated the force fields that augmented his titanium armor. Whatever the blue robot was doing with the light, it stopped and its other appendage went into motion. The spiked ball smashed into Roy’s chest driving him into the war wall, knocking out a Roy-sized chunk.

“So ya wanna play hardball, huh?” Roy said. If he had had his human face, he would have smiled.

The blue robot swung at him again, but Roy dodged, grabbed the arm at the wrist where it connected to the ball, and lifted the giant robot off of the ground. He swung the robot like a baseball bat, clearing a swath through the mechanical horde, then let the robot go on his second swing, sending it splashing into the ocean over a hundred yards away. Before the robots could recover, he dashed past through the opening he’d made and through the open gate.

He should have known there would be even more inside. One, roughly the size and shape of a Hercules Class Titan, strode forward. It hit Roy once.

Well, that rattled th’ ol’ motherboard… he thought just before he shut down.

((This is a tie in with Red-Eyes open RP. Thanks Red-Eye for a great idea!))

The sound of waves breaking in the distance was like music to Roy’s audio receptors.

He had swum in the darkness for hours, his internal pumps filling every available cavity in his body with air to keep him buoyant. Now he was getting close to somewhere. But where? His optic sensors emitted a light, but only reached 20 feet in front of him.

The water temperature was all wrong for the South Atlantic. In human form he would never have survived in these 50 degree waters. If the plane had been heading for South America, he should have landed in much warmer waters.

He pushed ahead, following the sound of the waves.

Wherever he was heading to, as soon as he was on dry land, he would change back into flesh and blood. No use in alerting anyone who might be looking for a big red and white robot to his location.

And by this point he was also pretty sure he had made a mistake.

A check of his internal clock told him that the sun would be rising soon. Good. He should be getting close to his destination. He would rather not approach it blindly.

The first rays of daylight were beginning to reflect off of the rolling ocean, burning off the fog of the wee hours. Roy could see his destination.

Ahead of him, rising out of the ocean was an island. He was far enough away to see both ends of it. Its size was hard to gauge, since he didn’t know exactly how far away from it he was, but he could tell that it was an island, singular, with no other land in sight.

The island also had another distinguishing feature.

It was surrounded by a war wall…

((Wow.))

((I am not ashamed to admit this is a bump. This story if great! Miss Megajoule is totally awesome, in-game and on the boards!))

((This party took place before current in-game events involving Roy...))

Well, he'd tried. He really had. If he had it to do over, he wouldn't have come to the party. Julia would have had a better time if he'd not been here.

Roy sat on the bench behind the hedge and watched the snow fall. Julia was either looking for him, or she had left. Or maybe she was joining in whatever game the host was getting together.

As soon as he sobered up, he'd leap out of the place.

A humming above his head got his attention away from his funk. Roy looked up. A valkyrie? Council? Here?

Then he noticed the writing. PROPERTY OF HERR AUTOMATON. DO NOT DESTROY OR I WILL KICK YOUR *****.

As Roy watched the hovering drone, it lowered until it was level with his face. He could swear he could hear it laughing at him.

"Well, Herr," Roy said, "Looks like yer gonna owe me..."

In a blink, flesh and blood Roy was replaced with augmented titanium HEROID. The converted valkyrie popped in his hand like an overfed mosquito.

Roy smiled. That was the most fun he'd had since he got there. He activated a scanning device. There were more valkyries at the party.

Things were starting to look up.

Grace was not an adjective popularly associated with HEROID. In the Paragon Dance Party, the DJ’s and the bartenders had a habit of moving equipment quickly whenever he showed up, always hoping he would stay to the middle of the dance floor and not near the stage, bar, or any of the ceiling support posts.

The “Oooo’s” and “Aahhh’s” that followed Roy’s catlike movement to twist, drop to one knee, and catch the stone girl in his arms were uttered in honest amazement. A few people applauded.

The party’s host did not applaud. Yet, despite the vein that had popped up on Ivonovitch’s temple, he surprised Roy by maintaining his composure. When he rushed up, he was carrying no weapon. Following not far behind was a smirking Red-Eye.

“You – wha…? – You – She…” Whatever Ivonovitch was trying to say, he wasn’t getting it out.

“Relax, pal,” Roy said. “I got yer statue.” He stood, carefully lifting the stone girl with him, until he had her set back upon her pedestal.

Julia looked from Roy to Ivonovitch and back again. She walked a circle around the statue, looking for visible cracks. After a moment, she said, “See? No harm done.”

Ivonovitch made his own inspection. Roy waited to see how badly he was going to be chewed out.

“Yes,” he announced at length. “No harm done.” He shot Roy an angry look, and then began making humor of the situation, leading his guests away.

With his head still a bit foggy, Roy took the hand Julia’s offered, red-faced, he started to follow.

Then he looked back at the statue. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was his imagination, but, she seemed to look a bit sad now. Her expression hadn’t changed -- it was more in her eyes. It was like they were watching him walk away.

Roy let go of Julia’s hand and went back to the stone girl.

“Aww… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean ta knock ya down…”

“Roy…?” Julia put a hand on his shoulder.

“Yer lonesome ain’t ya?”

“Roy…?”

People were starting to look again. Ivonovitch had stopped, turned and was rushing back to protect his treasure. Someone – Roy was pretty sure it was Kelp – shouted “What are you going to do, Roy, kiss her?”

Roy grinned. Then he bent so that his face was in almost touching the stone girl’s face.

Then he kissed her.

The lips were remarkably soft for a statue’s.

“What th’ hell is everybody lookin’ at over there?”

Julia followed Roy’s gaze, and said, “It looks like some kind of sculpture.”

Party-goers were gathered around a statue which looked as if it was carved out of crystal or ice. Roy wasn’t much for art. Usually, when he looked at a statue, it was to identify the stone used, and which part of the world that stone had been excavated from. He was a little rusty at it now, but this particular piece didn’t seem to be any of the usual stones –marble, soapstone, basalt, granite. Roy tugged Julia along with him toward the statue.

At nearly eight feet tall, Roy usually had no trouble maneuvering through a crowd. Non-combatant crowds tended to part for him as if Moses was passing through. Roy walked right up to the statue.

He looked at it. He looked at it hard. The statue was of a young woman, beautiful, dressed in some sort of Old World party gown. He could see the weave of the fabric. He could see the texture of her skin. The artwork was perfect. Too perfect. He smiled.

“Watch this, Julia,” he said. Then he blew in its face.

The statue stood unmoving in its magnificent whiteness.

Roy blinked. “Well, damn. I figgered it wuz a real person standin’ still like one o’ them Livin’ thingies they do out in Hollywood when th’ people dress up an’ stand there an’ don’t move.”

Now, Julia also blinked. “I have no idea what you are trying to say.”

Roy’s mind had already moved on. He touched the statue, expecting it to be icy cold, but no, it was only mildly cool, as one would expect stone to be. But what kind of stone? If it was quartz crystal, it would have to have been cut from one of the largest crystals ever found. And with a laser. Quartz wasn’t diamond, but it was hard enough to make it difficult to chisel. And the detail here…

Roy felt the liquid courage in his blood concentrate into his brain. It formed a foggy tunnel in his vision, and he staggered forward into the statue.

“Roy!” Julia shouted and reached to grab him.

Tony Tromboni’s tux jacket ripped away in Julia’s hand as Roy toppled into the stone girl. Both were headed toward the cobblestone walkway…

ulia was over checking out the hors d’euves when Roy was downing his eighth drink. The party was starting to seem livelier.

“And you are…?” an attractive brunette with a French accent said, placing her hand on the bulge of his bicep that challenged the seams of his jacket.

“Uh… Name’s Roy.”

“Oh? Now I know a boy as beeg as vous eez not a ceevilian.”

Roy smiled and looked around for Julia. She had a small plate in her hand, but seemed to be having trouble deciding what appetizer was what. That was one of the reasons he liked her so much. She was, like him, a regular person, not a socialite.

“Tu et le superhero? Which one?”

“Oh. Uh… Ya prob’ly ain’t heard o’ me. I’m known as HEROID.”

“Oh! Zut alors! B-but ze Heroid – he eez ze robot!”

“Oh yeah, well… Ya know… I… Actu’ly I’m a guy in a suit o’ armor.”

The French woman squeezed his bicep, then moved her hand across the expanse of his chest.. “Ze armor eez big, non?”

“Non. I mean yeah, it’s big. Uh… Th’ armor, that is.”

Roy was at that in-between point, drink-wise. A few more, he was afraid, and Frenchy would be able to whisk him off somewhere more private. So he looked over to the where the food was spread to see if he could get Julia’s attention. She was gone.

Oh, geez… She seen me talkin’ ta this foreign gal…

Suddenly, Frenchy was uncomfortably close. She was invading his personal space. Space he had reserved for someone else.

“Uh… ‘scuse me,” he said and walked away.

Behind him, Frenchy stood with her arms akimbo for a moment until a handsome young man with a neatly trimmed beard strode by.

“Bon soir,” she said, smiling as she placed a slender hand on his shoulder. “Je m'appelle Genevieve.”

“Bon soir, Lady Genevieve,” he replied. “My name is Parzival.”

If Roy had turned around he would have laughed, but he was focused on finding Julia.

In a corner of the garden, almost hidden from sight by a stand of ornamental trees, a baby grand Steinway had been set up. Roy had been drawn to it because, well, someone was playing a familiar song. He was very surprised to find Julia sitting at the keyboard.

“She… I…” he stammered, “I hope ya ain’t mad…”

Julia didn’t look up, but kept playing.

“Look, Julia, I don’t even know her.”

Julia’s fingers kept moving carefully over the keyboard, hesitating in places, searching for the next note.

“She kinda wuz…”

Julia started laughing softly.

“…I mean…”

Julia looked up at him and laughed out loud. “You should have seen the look on your face when put her hand on your chest. You rooster.”

“Ya ain’t mad?”

She laughed again, and shook her head. “You worry too much, Roy.”

Her carefree smile settled his mind and he began to listen to her play again.

“Yer pretty good.”

“Nah. It’s just an etude I learned when I was in high school. I had some friends that played a little. We’d mess around with it sometimes.” Roy watched her fingers dance over the keys. “No real lessons.”

“Ya play pretty. I like that song.”

“Song?”

“Yeah. It’s a Chicago song… ‘Color My World’.”

When the tune came back around, Roy began singing…

As time goes on I realize…

His voice, bolstered by the courage of alcohol, was somewhere between Joe Cocker and Tom Waites, even if it was slightly offkey.

Just what you mean to me.

Even though he had meant to sing only to Julia, several people had already heard the singing and playing and were wandering over to see what was going on.

And now, now that you're near,
Promise your love

Roy looked into Julia’s eyes as he sang. Blue, laughing eyes, that looked up at him for a moment before turning back to watch her fingers pick the notes on the piano.

That I've waited to share,
And dreams of our moments together.

The people who had assembled in a small audience behind Roy were silent, as if they knew knowledge of their presence would end the performance.

Color my world with hope of loving you

Roy finished the song and dropped to one knee, his only intention, to steal a kiss.

That’s when a chorus of, “Awww’s” went up, along with whispers of, “He’s going to propose!”

Roy turned a deep red and looked to Julia helplessly. She gave him a sympathetic look.

“Geez, people…”

Someone – Roy was pretty sure it was Kelp, but if so he was sufficiently hidden behind the group of onlookers – shouted, “Go ahead Roy, don’t let us stop you!”

The people murmured in concurrence and urged him to propose.

“Waitaminute!” Roy stood up. “Look, I wuz just gonna kiss th’ girl. We ain’t been datin’ but a little while.”

“Looked like you were gonna do more than kiss to me!”

Roy was almost certain that was Kelp.

“Look, I don’t wanna embarrass Julia, here… I mean… She is special.”

A few of the group began to disperse when he announced there would be no proposal. The rest waited to see what else he had to say.

“She’s got a magic kiss.”

That remark quirked a few eyebrows.

Roy offered Julia his hand and led her out into the garden.

Roy was at the party for all of ten minutes before he began to realize how out of place he was.

The estate was gorgeous, as were most of the women in attendance. The host -- young, handsome, and as rich as most of his guests were super -- was surrounded by a mob of powered and non-powered beauties, with one of them hanging possessively onto of his arm.

Many of the men at the party were regarding the host with a bit of jealousy, and Roy for a moment envied the man his social position and wealth. But none of the women around Mr. Ivanovitch matched the one walking at Roys’ side.

Julia looked breathtaking in her navy blue dress. When they arrived at the party, she was immediately quite a head-turner. Her hair, her clothes – she looked like a movie star.

Roy was in the periwinkle blue tux with gold lapels and the white lizard –skin shoes he had coerced from Tony Tromboni. Both Icon and the Old Philistine had been out of formal-wear his size. Somewhere in Paragon City, Tromboni was gathering information for an FBI agent Roy had made up who would put Tony in the witness protection program as soon as Roy got the information he needed. A blank, white, titianium robot face was perfect for lying.

So, Julia looked like a starlet, and Roy looked like he should be running a casino in Atlantic City. The contrast wasn’t entirely lost on him.

"Would ya like somethin' ta drink, Julia?" he had asked her almost as soon as they arrived.

Looking back, that was probably a mistake. He had said it just to have something to say because he felt so intimidated by his surroundings. Julia wasn't much for alcohol. He'd brought her a martini, and himself, a scotch on the rocks. She had politely held the drink in her hand as they strolled into the posh garden, not drinking, but not pouring it out either. It would, he figured out later, keep him or anyone else from offering her another drink. Himself? By the time they had passed the next wet bar, he was ready for another.

Ten minutes.

Roy looked around for Killer Whale. Lyte. Somebody whose head stuck up higher than his so that he didn't feel like an ostrich in a chicken coop. Maybe they were running late. But if all the big and tall guys in Paragon City had bought out the stock of over-sized formalwear for this party, then where the hell were they?

On the patio, just outside the door which opened from the house onto the ornate garden, Dr. Valerie Wisteria stood chatting with a few handsome lads whose eyes were full of admiration.

Boy, are they barkin’ up th’ wrong tree, Roy thought.

Val saw him and waved. He waved back and grinned, then downed his second drink. He turned away before he saw the scowl that appeared on Dr. Wisteria’s face.

As a waiter walked by, Julia took the empty glass from Roy’s hand and placed it on the tray he carried. She smiled up at Roy, and if he were just a little bit smarter, he would have taken the hint to not fill his hand with another drink right away. But nobody at the party was going to be captivated by HEROID’s display of intellectual conversation, nor by his insightful, sensitive wisdom.

When another waiter walked by with tray with someone else’s drinks on it, Roy grabbed a something on the rocks. It turned out to be gin and tonic, which was never one of his favorites, but seeing as it was his third since he’d walked through the door, flavor wasn’t exactly what he was looking for…

((Oh! This is good! ))

"Whattaya mean ya ain't go no more size 17 black dress shoes?"

Bill Conley, formerly known as the Old Philistine, proprietor of Bill's Big and Tall Shop, levelled his gaze at Roy.

"I mean there ain't no more. Last pair went out of here yesterday. You think you're the only eight-foot tall guy in town?"

"Hey! I ain't but seven-eight!"

Roy took offense at people picking on his height. He was, after all over a foot-and-a-half taller than before he became HEROID. He never understood why the magically produced body, even though it had his old familar face, couldn't be six-two like his original. Doc Werner had tried to explain a theory about the displacement of mass and matter from one dimension to another, but it was like listening to Smersh and Sasha chatting in Russian.

Roy sighed, then said, "Tell me what ya can do fer me then."

Bill Conley smiled. "Lemme see what I have in the back."

Roy looked out of the shop window. He'd promised Julia he'd take her shopping for a new dress. He felt kinda silly when he thought about it. He hadn't had a drink in days -- not since the Cape's Charity Auction Dance. Cutting back on drinking and shopping for evening gowns. Who'd 've thunk it?

Bill came out of the back room with a box the size of a suitcase.

"Wait'll you get a load of these, my friend," he said, slowly opening the box.

Roy watched him raise the lid and move the white tissue paper away from the contents. His heart sank when he saw the pair of black boots inside.

"Only pair like them in existence!" The Old Philistine held one up in display.

The boots were black all right. Black with silver trim. Not sterling silver. Silver glitter. They were zippered, but with a strip of spandex up the side to allow them to fit snugly. But that wasn't the worst thing about them.

The heels were at least seven inches high, and the soles a good five inches.

"Uh..." Roy said, trying to find a polite way to turn them down.

"Only pair in existence. They were custom made for Doctor Dragontongue."

"Doctor Dragont... Wait... You mean these wuz made fer that guy from Crass? Th' rock-n-roll superheroes?"

The former Old Philistine nodded.

"I used ta be in th' Crass Army when I wuz a little kid... Geez, ya had these in yer back room since th' 70's?"

"No. Doctor Dragontongue gave them to me when I opened my store in '85. His doctor told him if he wanted to be able to walk when he was sixty years old, he'd better quit wearing platforms."

Roy thought about buying the boots. He could take them home, break out some of his old Crass records and...

The boots would put him over eight feet tall. As tall as he was in his robot body. Julia would have to go to a chiropractor after looking up at him all night as it was. And dancing... he was no Gene Kelly, but he liked to think he was at least John Travolta... But seven-inch heels? Dancing?

"Look Bill, I'm gonna have ta pass. Thanks anyway."

Bill Conley shrugged and repacked the boots into the box. "Well, if somebody else comes along, then I can't promise they'll be here if you change your mind."

"I understand."

The little bell above the over-sized door dinged when Roy left the shop. What was he going to do for dress shoes?

Then he remembered a name.

Tony Tromboni. An enforcer for the Family. An eight-foot tall enforcer for the Family.

Tony was a sharp dresser. If Roy could find him, arrest him. Maybe...

((This thread is getting so cool. I wonder what all is going to happen at the actual party?))

"I ain't no freakin' celeberty. Forwerd this ta Ascendant. He's a celeberty."

Dr. Wisteria glared at HEROID. She hated when, during the middle of a session, he transformed from human to robot form. The robot had no face for her to read. Somewhere in Paragon City there had to be a parapsychiatrist who was also an empath.

"Like it or not," she said calmly, "You have attained a certain popularity as a result of your animated show. You should go."

"But I hate parties like this..."

"Only because you will have to wear a suit and tie. If you could go in sneakers and a t-shirt, you would go just for the free booze."

"Well... yeah..."

"Well... yeah. You will go. You will behave yourself. You will NOT get falling-down drunk, and you WILL have a good time."

"I AIN'T gonna go. I AIN'T puttin' on no monkey suit..."

"If you take Julia, she will have to dress up too. In an evening gown."

"Julia...?"

"More than likely many of the ladies in the superhero community will be there -- dressed in evening gowns."

"...Julia?"

Dr. Wisteria smiled. "I'm going. I was invited more because of my book than because of any derring-do I have attained fame for."

"...Julia."

Dr. Wisteria looked at her watch. "Okay, Roy. Your time is up. Out."

Roy grinned. When your shrink saw you no-charge, then she had a right to run you out when she wanted to.

Roy looked at the invitation in his hand.

"Hey, Val, one more thing. When ya send yer reply, would ya RPMC me too?"

((Epilogue 1 can be found here. September Writing Challenge ))

((I'd like this to be part of the Cape thingie-thing. The story is longer than the song. Sorry. The song is "Waiting for Superman", by the Flaming Lips. Lips fans sometimes claim the song to be the saddest song in popular music. I dunno about that, but it does have a melancholy to it. So, of course, Roy needs a song... It fits the story though.

The story is a piece of the ending of the Karmic Bingo thread.))

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

I asked you a question,
But I didn't need you to reply.
Is it getting heavy?
But then I realize.
Is it getting heavy?
Well, I thought it was already as heavy as can be.

Tell everybody waiting for Superman,
That they should try to hold on best they can.
He hasn't dropped them, forgot them or anything.
It's just too heavy for Superman to lift.


Roy left the others at the strange boat that Hades Moon had conjured up. They had come for him. His friends. They had come to take him back to reality. Away from his dream.

He wasn't certain the others could even still see the house, the field, but he could. And he could see Becky standing on the porch, smiling gently as she always had when she watched him work in the fields. He went to her.

She was everything he had ever wanted. With her came a lifetime of memories. Meeting shortly after highschool. Marrying after only a few months of dating. Bringing home the new baby. Diapers. Shots. Teething. First steps. Watching him grow and achieve. Sharing the heartaches and the joys in the life they had made together.

All the things a normal life would bring.

"Are you going to wait until Ben comes home?” Becky asked. “Can they hold off leaving that long?"

"Ya know I'm leavin'?"

"I know you can't stay."

"Becky... I..."

The gentle smile faded, and she had the same expression she'd gotten when their son told them he was going away to college. Not quite sorrow, not quite pride. "I don't know what I'll do. This place will fall apart without you."

"I... I can come back to see ya."

"No. I don't think so. They said you're needed there. You'll make a life there."

Roy looked into her eyes. He realized now that sometimes they had been blue, and sometimes they had been green.

Whichever made him happy.

"I was just wondering, is all, if they can wait long enough for Ben to come home."

He turned and looked at the people waiting on the boat for him. They seemed to be moving very slowly, and after a moment, he really had to concentrate to see them at all.

"Sure," he said.

He took her hand, sat in his cane-back rocking chair, and pulled her down onto his lap.

"Remember when you were scared to hold him when the doctor handed him to you?"

Roy nodded.

"You were a good father. You have it in you."

"You're a good mom too. I'm real lucky ta have ya fer th' mother o' my son."

Becky smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

"Would you like a sandwich or something while we wait for the boy?" She moved as if to get up.

"Nah. Let's just sit here."

She laid her head on his wide shoulder. He inhaled the fragrance of her hair. He wanted to remember it, but knew he wouldn't.

The shadows of the day were growing long when the familiar sound of Ben's little Pontiac came down the driveway.

Becky stood, and so did Roy. Ben, as strong and tall as his father, got out of the car.

"Hiya, Pop!"

"Hiya, son."

Ben bounded up the steps and the family did a group hug.

"You're father's getting ready to leave. He's going on a trip."

"Yeah? Where to, Pop?"

Roy tried to answer, but found that he couldn't open his mouth and keep his composure at the same time.

"He's going to Paragon City."

"Wow! That's cool! What's the occasion?"

Roy cleared his throat and tried to answer, but nothing came.

"He's needed there for some special work. Something only he can do."

"Wow! My Pop in Paragon City! Who woulda thought?"

"Yes, we should be very proud of him."

"Look, Becky... Ben..."

"Shush. You're going. You may never get this opportunity again."

Ben hugged his father. "I'll see you when you get back, Pop. I'm gonna go inside and call Jeanine. She's gonna flip when she hears her future father-in-law's gonna be working in the City of Heroes."

Roy kissed Ben on the cheek, and took a long time to let go of the hug, then watched the boy disappear into the house with an exuberance he barely remembered ever having himself.

"Well..." Becky began, and looked toward where the others were now visible again.

"Becky... I'm sorry."

"I know."

"Becky... yer... real... ta me."

Becky nodded and pointed to Roy's friends. "But so are they."

"Becky..."

"No regrets. No looking back."

Then she put her hands on his face and pulled him down to kiss him. Roy closed his eyes and felt the familiar softness of her lips on his. His eyes were still closed when the kiss ended.

"I love you," she said.

Roy opened his eyes.

Becky was gone.

The house was old now, dilapidated. It's shutters were falling off. The porch was sagging and missing boards in places. The screen door hung askew. Grey, faded paint peeled off of its once bright walls.

Roy turned away, and walked to where his friends had been waiting for several minutes.

"Let's go," he said.

Home. Paragon City. The City of Heroes.

“But I dunno nobody that needs me there.”

Julia asked the others to back away for a moment, and then offered Roy her hand.

He barely noticed when Becky’s hand was gone from his shoulder.

“I do,” Julia said.

“And your son…” someone added.

“He… he’s comin’ home any minute. He’ll drive up any time…” Roy was confused, completely confused. He felt like two different people who had lived two different lives.

“Not that son,” Steel Butterfly said. “The real one. The one wearing the armor made by the Doc.”

“Roy, your son is the emptiness, the hurt,” Cygnata told him. “You could not take him with you, and so you wait always, expecting him home. Only one moment more, only one day more... instead of going to meet him yourself…” Cygnata moved closer, she almost whispered to him, “One must move on, y not live in a world of memories. Even if memories are all that someone leaves you."

The house, the farmyard, the fields, everything but the tractor began a slow fade until it all seemed like he was looking at a blurry photograph.

“Roy… you know who you are...”

In the driveway, the fog lights and headlights of Shamrock II’s truck ignited, burning through the air. They shone on the tractor.

“Take to your tractor, Roy.” This time Cygnata spoke forcefully, with authority. “Feel it for what it is. Resume your armor. Resume your LIFE!”

Roy looked around. Hades Moon was explaining to Steel Butterfly something about how the Dream worked, how Roy was one with everything in it, or everything in it was a part of him, or something to that effect. The gist of it seemed to be that Hades Moon couldn’t understand why Roy would want to give up the Dream and go back to real life.

Steel Butterfly’s response was, “If you were talkin' about circuits or wiring I'd get it...but this dream stuff is hard for me.”

But Roy got it. In his gut he understood it completely. The Dream was as real as he wanted it to be. And he could stay there forever. A tender trap.

Roy looked at Julia, and nodded. “Yeah, I know who I am.”

“Come home with me, then.”

“Julia… It... hurts there. I never wanted ta be a superhero... I never wanted ta be any kinda hero.”

Cygnata said, “None of us did, pienso...”

“Or at least we don't expect it,” added Blood-Raven, “We are not allowed to divert from the path, even if paradise is right in front of us.”

“Pero, we must take what path fate shows us.”

Roy thought for a moment and frowned. “I... ain't got nothin' ta go back ta.”

“You have your amigos. Y, your son.” Cygnata.

“An' ya got th' future.” Shammy.

“I mean...” Roy knew he wasn’t phrasing this quite right, “I ain't got nobody ta go back ta.”

All the others looked at him in confusion, except Steel Butterfly. Her expression changed from confusion about the Dream, into one of revelation. Then she simply vanished.

“…nobody ta go back ta.”

“Don't you?” Julia’s eyes were moist.

He was hurting her with his stumbling. “I mean... I ain't got no BODY. My body is dead! Ya want I should go back an' be a robot?” The words were harsh, but she had to understand them. Yer gonna snuggle a robot? Titanium gets cold in th’ winter.”

In a roundabout way, Shammy answered for Julia. “Aw, hell, Roy, yer a hero. That kinda thing, we can deal with, ain't no problem at all.”

The buzz of speaking and activity began again. Cygnata and Hades Moon were chanting and weaving spells or something that Roy didn’t quite understand. Blood-Raven was offering her assistance in “housing” his soul until a suitable form could be found.

Roy spoke over the din. “Lemme talk ta Julia... alone.”

The others acquiesced and he pulled Julia to the side.

“Ya know how many times I been… dead? I been ta City Hall four times ta have myself declared alive.”

“It’s obviously not enough to keep you down yet.”

“It’s just that… I’m afraid… if I don’t go… I'm afraid when ya leave... I'll go back ta th'farm an' ferget ya.”

“I am, too. It's a good life you you have here. I'll... I'll understand if you're happier here. But I should tell you... it's tearing me apart not...”

“…not?”

“It hurts. A lot. Not having you around.”

Roy reached out and touched her hair. “I miss ya too, Julia.”

He looked around again, and the landscape became just a little bit sharper.

“But what if this’s where I’m s’posed ta be? Who am I ta turn my back on it?”

Julia’s looked down. Her hair fell like golden tears in front of her face, and he could hear the sniffle when she breathed.

“B’sides, ya like bein’ a cape. It wuz never fer me.”

Her eyes came up to look into his. Her expression was resolute. He didn’t know if she was driven now by hurt or anger.

”Do I? I do it cuz it's all I know. Grow up with a father like mine and try being something different. No, what I like is the people I've met in the process.”

“Ya could stay here with me…”

She shook her head. “Life is about change -- experiencing new things.”

The farm became even clearer now. I almost seemed real again.

“Uh-oh,” Blood-Raven said, “We’re losin’ ‘im.”

Cynata and Blood-Raven began to chant. A crimson raven shape curved over them, feeding energy from one to the other, strengthening their magic.

Roy looked at Julia, but no longer saw Julia.

“Becky,” he pleaded, “Please don’t go. Don’t leave me.” He dropped to his knees. “I dunno what I’d do without ya! Please don’t…”

“Get Up!” Shammy shouted and slapped him across the face. “Yer livin in yer own head, ya yutz! That ain't Becky. Becky's yer ideal woman, sure, but she ain't real. She ain't Julia, neither.”

“Yer messin’ with my head!”

“Naw. YER messin with yer OWN damn head. Ya kin have yer Becky. But all she is, is you. She ain't nothin else. Julia's real. She won't agree. She'll grow old. She'll get pissed at ya. An' that's why she matters. Don't confuse th' two. Ya got it?

The farm was fuzzing out again, and Roy was aware of the others’ worried faces.

“This place is becoming unstable,” Cygnata said, “Ready the raft, Hades.”

“Roy, you need to ask yourself, “ Julia said, taking his hand, “what do you want?”

“Julia. If I go back.... It’ll be... It'll be a robot body.”

“It doesn't have to be. We found a way once, didn't we? Maggie did, didn't she? We can find a way again.”

Roy nodded.

“We need to leave this place,” Cygnata urged.

Roy looked around. The landscape was crumbling like last year’s birthday cake.

“Julia, I wann be real. I’m goin’, but…”

He turned around. He wasn’t sure if anyone else saw her, but Becky stood in the doorway smiling at him.

“I just wanna say goodbye… It wuz real ta me…”

Julia nodded and turned to join the others. In minutes Roy followed.

Somehow, Hades Moon had produced a rather large raft and everyone was gathered on it.

“Lets go,” Roy said as he boarded.

“Roy?” Hades Moon asked, “You want me to bring the farm along? I don't like abandoning so many parts of yourself.”

“Those parts wuzn't real.”

“Oh, they're all real, Roy. They're part of you.”

“Let's... just... go.”

The large raft drifted across the sea of dreams, and onto Cygnata’s private island. She bid him to come ashore and wait for his spirit to be reunited with his robot body.

The wait did not last long.

The nun-seeming woman began to nudge the attractive blonde, saying, “Tell him how you know him. Tell him el VERDAD.”

The blonde seemed to be troubled. She looked from Roy to Becky and back again, her eyes wishing to speak to them, but her lips remaining closed.

Roy’s growing confusion must have shown on his face.

The preacher/salesman flicked a thumb back at the tractor. “They're used to seein' yer farm all wrapped up on the inside of that tractor over there.”

“What?

“They know yer tractor, with yer farm inside it.”

“Yer doin’ crazy talk now.”

“Symbolism,” the woman at the tractor said again.

Then suddenly, “Think fast!”

The tall woman in green tossed the football helmet to him. Instinctively his hands went up and he caught it. He looked at the helmet. There were signatures written on the back. Ascendant? Captain Valor?

“Who…?” Roy began.

“Ya remember me, Roy?” The green-garbed woman smiled, “We're all back fer ya.”

“How d'ya know me?” he asked her.

The other of the women who had arrived in the truck bed mimed flexing her muscles and answered. “Sorry to burst your bubble and your paradise here, dear, but you’re a hero...”

Roy looked up from the helmet to the woman who was speaking.

She continued, “…Big. Strong. The kind that hits things and they go down.”

“I ain't gettin' this...”

The nun was nudging again, “Tell him.”

The blonde remained quiet, but the others began speaking of dreams and reality and “taking your farm away” and “putting it back inside your tractor”. She looked like a caged animal, and he imagined he looked pretty much the same.

The nun ceased nudging, and simply began pleading to her with her eyes. The blonde sighed.

“Roy. Look at me.” Her voice was solemn, warm, and full of purpose.

Roy couldn’t help but look her way. Becky’s attention was also on her.

The others were still speaking, trying to explain something to Roy, but only confusing him more.

The nun put up a hand. “Let her speak, amigos.”

“Do you remember my name..?”

“…Julia?”

“Yes... Julia. Where do you know me from?”

“I... I don't... know...” he said, trying to think, “I just know I know ya.”

“There was... a restaurant. Where we sat together and enjoyed dinner together... Do you remember?”

“Yer a little young fer me ta've dated... Me an' Becky've been married fer more’n 19 years.”

Julia looked a little hurt at that. Then she continued, “You're a hero, Roy. One of the many... and one of the better of Paragon City.”


Roy shook his head. “I'm... confused...”

“Benjamin Roy Kirby. Otherwise known as Heroid. Don't you remember?”

“No, he don't,” said the woman in green.

But for an instant, he did.

“Julia? Wh…”

Julia smiled. For a moment the surrounding seemed unreal and the only thing real was that smile. Then Roy was fully aware of the people around him: Hades Moon, the preacher, Cygnata, the nun, and Shammy had driven up in the truck bringing Steely and Blood-Raven with her.

“Where are we?”

“You are in Dreamtime, amigo,” Cygnata informed him.

“My home,” Hades Moon added, “At least near it.”

“Yer retired, Roy,” Shammy told him.

Becky, for a brief time forgotten, rose up and placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

“This is your dream,” said Julia, still smiling. “Your imagination”

“What? Nah.” Roy placed a hand on his own shoulder on top of Becky’s. “It’s my dream all right. I got my farm, what more could I want?”

The tall woman in green opened the duffel bag. “I'll tell ya.” She pulled out a pair of shoulder pads. There was writing on them, too, written in sharpie like the Ascendant and Captain Valor on the helmet. "Roy, I'm gonna tell ya this simple. An' yer gonna listen."

She looked at him with a pleading that he somehow knew was uncharacteristic of her. She didn’t look like the kind of woman who would ask twice, let alone plead.

“Ya got somethin more ya want. Ya got th' chance ta make a difference. Roy, yer retired on th' farm. Ya deserve th' retirement, if anyone does. But you got a choice right now.”

She looked him in the eye with an expression that said, last chance. It was almost like the Invitation at the end of a Revival.

“Ya kin put yer uniform on, go back out on th' field, and make a difference in not just yer life, but in th' lives of hundreds. Thousands. It ain't gonna be easy. It's gonna hurt. Yer gonna hate it. Sometimes. Blood, toil, sweat, an' tears. But ya kin do it. Thousands can't. Or ya kin retire ta th' farm, an' fade away.”

One of the young women who had arrived in the truck bed spoke up. “We’e the kind of people that don't get what they want Roy. We have to live with what we have.”

Roy looked down, considering. “Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' a farmer.”

Becky’s hand was kneading his shoulder gently, soothingly.

“Look at th' helmet, Roy. Look at th' pads. Ain't nothin wrong, Roy.”

“Y, less wrong con being a hero,” said the nun.

The preacher who had said less, and when he did made less sense than anyone else said, “She isn't going to go back.”

The woman in green spoke up again. This time, he could tell, would be the last she said anything more on the matter. “Ain't nothin wrong at all. But I'm tellin ya…”

One of the women asked the preacher, “She?”

“The world needs you, amigo. It is not yet time to lay down your load.” The nun.

“She isn't going to go back....Becky?” One of the young women from the truck.

“…I'm tellin ya, Roy, ya asked what more ya could want. And I'm tellin ya... ya got th' chance ta make a difference. It's yer call.”

“Becky is his memories, amiga.” The nun.

“I dunno where yer talkin' about me goin'...”

“She won't go back. She's part of the whole.” The preacher.

“…Home,” Cygnata revealed.

Home. Paragon City. The City of Heroes.