Heroid

((The following post contains dialogue and ideas created by the players of Fire.Hawk, Cygnata, Hades Moon, Blood-Raven, Shamrock II, and Steel Butterfly. Much thanks to these players.

Also, this post is strictly from HEROID's PoV. All of the others are encouraged to post the events from their characters' PoV.

Events might be presented a tad out of sequence, but that's okay. In dreamtime, everyone's perceptions are slightly altered...))



Roy sat on the porch and waited. The woman in the dream said they were coming. Until he heard the bus stop up on the road, he had no idea who “they” were.

He gave the bus time to pull away, then walked to the far end of the porch and looked up the driveway which approached from the behind the house. Three travelers were walking toward the house, too distant still to see much about them.

Roy walked back across the porch, stopped at the front door, shouted, “Becky! Hon, looks like we got company comin',” then went back to one of the three cane-back rockers, and waited.

When the three visitors walked around the side of the house to the front porch, Roy stood. He looked down on: a man in a duster and hat, carrying a suitcase who Roy figured was a salesman or maybe a preacher; a small, young woman with brown hair, plainly dressed, who for some reason reminded Roy of a nun; and a blonde with sapphire blue eyes, not short, but not tall, leanly muscled with graceful curves, who, if she was a nun, it would be an awful shame.

Becky came out of the house with a couple of kitchen chairs, which made enough chairs for the five of them to sit down. Roy took a closer look at his guests. The preacher had been there before, he was certain, but couldn't remember when. The blonde...

A mild breeze blew across the yard, and swirled in a light gust as it went across the porch. The woman's silken hair whipped in golden strands across her face, and she brushed it back with her fingers. It was familiar to him. A memory from somewhere. A memory of shared laughs and shared glances.

Becky came out of the house carrying a tray with a pitcher of iced tea and five glasses filled with ice cubes. She set them down on a small table beside the front door.

"Mornin' Roy. How's the farm?" said the preacher/salesman.

Roy looked at the man carefully. "Ya been here b'fore. Don't quite 'member yer name..."

The man smiled, sat down his suitcase and smalltalk was begun. Roy found it quite pleasant, except that there seemed to be an underlying sense of purpose for their visit that was not being stated. Only the attractive blonde seemed uncomfortable. She and Becky kept exchanging glances, and Roy wondered if perhaps there was some sort of jealousy between them.

But that was silly. He didn't even know the woman.

And yet, he knew he did.

The question had barely formed in Roy's mind before the sound of an angry, unmuffled small-block V-8 rattled the windows. A monster-truck came roaring up. It didn’t just roll up the driveway, it devoured it, churning the soft edges, turning with all four wheels. It fishtailed dangerously, and Roy was sure it was going to wipe out a section of fence, but instead, it leapt over it. The truck came to rest near the house, and Roy got the distinct impression that if the driver hadn’t been holding it back, the truck would also have jumped the house.

In the bed of the truck, looking shaken, but miraculously unhurt were two more young women. They carefully climbed down as the truck’s driver got out. The driver was a woman dressed in green and nearly head and shoulders taller that any of the other women. The carried a duffle bag, and a red and white football helmet.

Becky went back into the house and came back out with a couple more kitchen chairs, then took her place sitting on the edge of the porch, beside her husband.

One of the passengers from the truck had walked across the yard to where the big red and white farm tractor was parked. "Symbolism," she said and then began going over the tractor in a way that told Roy the young lady was entirely more comfortable with the machine than she was with the rest of the group she was with.

"Symbolism?" Roy said. "Ah. I had ya pegged fer a preacher. So yer from a church? Uh... we're Baptists... but uh... we don't go much... uh... But if yer tryin' ta start a Symbolism Church 'round here, good luck ta ya."

There was some chuckling among the visitors, and he was assured they were not starting a “Symbolism” Church, nor any other kind of church.

From there, the conversation became quite bizarre.

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

Roy opened one eye to see sparkling green eyes looking at him from a movie-star’s face framed by a head of scarlet hair.

“They’re comin’ fer ye, Roy.”

“Maggie?”

“An’ when they come fer ye, darlin’, ye better go…”

“Wha…?”

There was a sudden, violent shaking.

"Wake up. Who’s Maggie?"

Roy opened one eye and looked at the same beautiful face he had woken up to everyday for the past twenty years. Only this time that face was a little bit angry.

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

Roy opened one eye and looked at the same beautiful face he had woken up to everyday for the past twenty years.

"Mornin', babe."

A slender woman with laugh-lines on her face and a nest of strawberry blond hair smiled at him. Her green eyes looked into his own. She gently kissed him on the cheek and stroked his face.

Roy put a big arm around her and pulled her close, answering her kiss on the cheek with another on the lips.

"Nuh-uh," she said, pushing him away and climbing over him to get out of bed. "Don't you remember what today is?"

Roy felt like he should know, but was coming up short.

“Uh…” he said.

Becky smiled. “My cousin from Ireland is coming to visit.”

“Wha…?” Roy was completely thrown by this bit of news. “Yer cousin from Ireland?”

Becky nodded and set about getting dressed.

Roy thought hard. “But… L’il Ben’s supposed ta…”

“Supposed to be keeping a 3.2 GPA, so he’s going to have to stay and make up some credit hours if he’s going to stay in the Honors program.

“Oh.”

Roy rolled out of bed and onto the front porch, fully clothed. He could remember Becky’s cousin now. Margaret. Margaret Love. He had met her before… Where? Had she visited before?

Then he remembered sitting in a park, knocking back a few beers with her. And Becky. He was pretty sure Becky was there too, somewhere.

The screen door opened and Becky came out of the house with a tray holding a pitcher of tea and three glasses filled with ice.

“Here she comes now,” Becky said, indicating the plume of dust that was rising over the treeline as it rose from the dirt road leading to the farm.

At first sight, Roy thought the 1946 Indian Chief was being driven by some person with their hair set aflame. But when the bike pulled up and came to rest directly in front of the rocker on which he sat, he could see the fire was only the sun catching the lustrousness of the rider’s wind-tossed red hair.

“Hello, Maggie,” Becky said.

The woman with the flaming red hair got off the bike, stepped up on the porch, and said, “’Lo Roy.”

“Hiya, Maggie,” Roy said.

“Hello, Maggie,” Becky said.

“How’ve ye been, Roy?” Maggie asked.

“Hello, Maggie,” Becky said.

Roy looked at Maggie, then turned to where Becky was standing behind him.

“Ain’t ya gonna say hi ta yer cousin, Maggie?”

“I dinna have a cousin here, Roy.”

Roy stood up, put his thumbs in his belt-loops and said, “Lissen if y’ve some sorta family feudin’ goin’ on, ya better get over it quick, ‘r ya can turn around an’ leave. Yer not gonna insult my wife.”

“Yer wife? I’m sorry, Roy. I dinna even see ‘er.” Maggie looked behind Roy and said, “’Lo… cousin.”

“Hello, Maggie,” Becky said, then smiled, and started pouring up the tea.

Maggie sat down in the cane-back rocker beside Roy, and took his hand.

“Maggie… I… uh… Becky…”

“Roy, she’s not real, darlin’.”

Roy jerked his hand away.

“All right! That tears it! Yer getting’ outta here now!”

Maggie simply smiled then threw her arms around Roy and kissed him.

Roy pushed her away, then turned to his wife.

“Becky… she… I… she… I didn’t want… I…”

Becky was simply pouring the last glass of tea oblivious to the fact that her “cousin from Ireland” had just kissed her husband full on the lips.

He turned back to Maggie only to see her mounting her bike and kicking the starter.

“I’ll come back an’ see ye Roy. I promise!” Then she roared away.

Becky was sitting in the cane-back rocker, sipping on her glass of tea.

“Li’l Ben should be here pretty soon,” she said.

Roy, she’s not real, darlin’

Kid 'Borg sat and tossed stones across the river in Gemini Park. A few adults stood up on the hill, discussing the merits of actually killing bad guys instead of merely tagging them for transport to the Zig. Kid 'Borg knew what he thought about it. He felt the same way his Pop did. Let the courts decide.

That's what his Pop had taught him.

His Pop had also taught him that superheroing was dangerous work. That's why he stayed near the grown ups and didn't stray very far from the park unless Dr. Wisteria was with him.

Granma and Granpa had already gone back to Georgia. He would have to go back there too next week. There was going to be a memorial service for Pop.

He didn't understand why.

Granma said he wasn't dead, he was only sleeping.

Across the river, a blue-skinned girl was singing some really weird song. He didn't like it. He thought about throwing a rock and hitting her. Pop wouldn't like that though, so he didn't.

When Pop wakes up, he thought, I hope he'll let me hang around with him more.

((This post was co-written -- actually mostly written -- by Warcabbit. Thanks Warcabbit!))

It's a day like all the others, a good day. And out of the rising sun comes the noise of a small-block V8, unmuffled and howling. There's a road past a farm, and something's coming up it. Something large and spitting fire.

It resolves, eventually, into a full-blown monster truck, painted in green with black flames on it. And then it pulls to a stop next to the farm mailbox, and sits there, idling to itself. The engine cuts off, and a woman gets out. Good definition of woman. Curves in all the right places. Good definition of amazon, too, muscles in all the right places. She's wearing a mechanic's coverall and a baseball cap, little grease-stained, dyed to match the truck. And she sits on the tire next to the mailbox and waits.

"Mornin, Roy. Brought ya th' paper."

Roy looks at the woman. He doesn't know which to admire more, the woman or the truck. The size of both is impressive.

"Hiya, Miz..." he says. She looks vaguely familiar, but he can't quite place her. "Can I help ya?"

"Ya gots no idea who I am, huh?" She watches Roy for a while. "Well, can't say as how I'm surprised, neither." There's something in red on the truck. Almost inappropriate elizabethian handwriting along the bed. Says 'Shamrock II.' "Didn't figure you would, since you retired, Roy. Ya remember retirin? Or is this all ya remembers? Ain't a bad place. Ain't bad at all. But ya know, I made a trip out here for yas, and I don't know how much time I got. I ain't gonna try ta bring ya back... but ya gotta know where yas is."

Roy shakes his head. It seems to him like this has happened before, someone coming to see him, expecting him to know them. "Look, lady, I don't know who ya are, an' I'm a long way from retirin'. If yer lookin' ta buy out th' farm 'r somethin', yer barkin' up th' wrong tree. It ain't fer sale."


There's a wicked glint in the girl's eye, as she responds to Roy. "Sure and all, Roy, I got no problem with this farm, Roy. Ya just gotta have some sense knocked through yer thick head afore ya settle down."

Now, everyone knows Shammy's a literal type of gal. And if you want to knock sense into someone's head... Well, she takes her hat off, wipes her brow, and then tries to grab Roy by the back of the head and, you know, generally decide to see what's harder. Her skull or his.
Most of the time, she'd be pretty sure she'd be standing after. Roy, though, he got stubborn built into his bones, too.

Shammy's speed takes Roy by surprise. From somewhere comes the sound of a Chevy straight 6 throwing a rod through the block. Then he realizes that sound is echoing through his skull.

When his vision clears, he looks up from the ground to see the woman standing over him. Instinctively, he grabs for her ankle.

The woman has her ankle grabbed. The woman has her ankle pulled. And the woman doesn't really seem to object to it, as she goes down.

In retrospect, Roy's probably going to mark that up as something not to do again. There's now a hefty Shammy a'sittn on his chest. Well, kneeling. Well, on his solar plexus. Partially.

She smiles down at the Roy-In-Pain. "Remember me now, tough guy? Or am I gonna haveta try ta jog yer memory more? These boots were made fer joggin, ya know."

All of the air escapes Roy's lungs as he realizes he was being outfought. He tries the one tactic he thinks a woman might understand.

"Please lady," he says, gasping, "If my wife sees ya on me like this, she might get th' wrong impression..."

"Ya knows, yer right." The wench... face it, she's built like a beergarden waitress. The kind that hauls the kegs up on one shoulder... stands up, and pulls Roy up after. "Damn, man. Wheres yer fight? Ya can't be givin up that easy, can yas? Still, an' all..." She kicks a tire of her truck, thinking a bit. Hasn't let go of Roy yet. "Yah. Yer right." And with that, she pulls Roy in for a kiss. And lights on fire.

Roy screams. For a moment everything goes white. Then red. Then red and white as the ground suddenly shoots away from him. He's looking down at the top of the woman's truck and she's looking up at him. He raises a gleaming, red, titanium fist above his head and swings down at her.

It only takes HEROID two hits to floor Shammy. One's where he hits her, and one's where she hits the ground. Well. The tire, any rate. Those things got some give to them... but not much. Enough, at least that she gets back to her feet, smiling, if wiping blood from the corner of her mouth. And still on fire. Oddly, her boots aren't Docs anymore. They're older, with the tops folded down. "Looks like I found sumpin yer willin ta fight fer. Yer a selfless man, Roy. A simple man. Uncomplicated, like. But ya got ta know whut's goin on, or it just ain't right. Do yas remember yet, or are ya working that hard at fergettin?" She doesn't make a move to restart the fight. But the door of her truck now bears a signature on a white panel. "ASCENDANT."

Roy sees the word on the truck. His mind reels. He recognizes the woman. He now knows for sure who he is.

"Shammy... I... I'm sorry. I didn't recognize ya. I... I know who I am now. But where am I? I mean... who's strong enough ta do this ta Ascendant?"

"Whut?" A pause. Shamrock II looks at where Roy's look...ing "It's th' back of yer own darn head, ya fool." She scrubs the white patch off the side of her truck. "Yer in... Yer in Dreamland, I guess, Roy. It ain't that it ain't real, it's just that yer in control of alla it. I think. Or sumpin. There's this Moon idjit who told us bout it." She leans against the truck, and thinks for a bit. "I ain't tellin ya ta come back ta us, Roy. Ain't my place. You done earned a retirement, way I see it. But I figger... ya oughta know afore ya make it. If ya wanna come back... I dunno. There's smart people. They kin do it fer yas."

"If ya don't, if ya wanna stay here, an' be a farmer till ya ferget ya exist... it's cool. An' I'll get in my truck, an' drive away till I wake up."

"So, what's it gonna be, boy... yes, or no?"
Oddly enough, at that phrase, the radio on the truck crackles on, and begins to play a play-by-play of a baseball game. "HOLY COW! I think he's gonna make it!"

"It's on in the house too," a voice says from behind him.

A hand is placed on Roy's shoulder. He turns his head to look into Becky's green eyes. She's smiling a smile that beckons him back to the house. His mind clears. The confusion of moments ago is gone. The farm needs him. He needs the farm.

Roy turns back to the woman with the monster truck, smiles apologetically, then follows Becky through the yard.

Behind him, the green suited woman fades out of existance.

In Skyway, in a small apartment by Hyde Park, Shamrock II bolts upright in the tub she sleeps in. Ignites briefly, then wills it out. "Aw, man! I think it worked!" She dives for a small notebook. "Gotta write it down! Gotta write it down!"

Down the street, a welded tube-frame chassis sits. Near it are the panels for a pickup truck. They're rusty, but one day...

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

Roy opened one eye and looked at the same beautiful face he had woken up to everyday for the past twenty years.

"Mornin', babe."

A slender woman with laugh-lines on her face and a nest of strawberry blond hair smiled at him. Her sapphire eyes looked into his own. She gently kissed him on the cheek and stroked his face.

Roy put a big arm around her and pulled her close, answering her kiss on the cheek with another on the lips.

"Nuh-uh," she said, pushing him away and climbing over him to get out of bed. "Don't you remember what today is?"

Roy thought for a moment. He was having trouble focusing on which day of the week it was, let alone whether it was some special day -- an anniversary or something. Then the memory came to him.

"Oh! L'il Ben's comin' home from college t'day!"

…

Roy took his shirt off and laid it across the back of the tractor seat. Even though it was May, the noonday sun still was enough to cause him to break a sweat. His muscles rippled as he fought with the steering wheel of the old dependable machine. The big red tractor swung and dragged the heavy plow behind it, laying furrows as its white wheels churned in the fertile soil.

“Hey, Pop!” came a shout from beside him.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that, son,” Roy chided Ben. “This thing’s dangerous.”

“I know that, Pop. Remember? I used to drive it all the time before I left for school.”

Roy smiled down at his boy. “Wanna drive it t’day?”

“Nah, Pop. I just came out here to tell you some lady’s here to see you.”

“See me?”

“Yeah, Pop. Probably a tourist. Real pretty. She could be a movie star.”

Roy looked across the field to where his truck was parked beside the house. A motorcycle was sitting near it, with a woman astride it who, even from this distance, did indeed have the presence of a movie star. When Roy looked her way, she waved at him.

“Who is she, Pop?”

“I dunno, son.”

“Get me her phone number.”

Roy climbed down from the tractor, grabbing his shirt and pulling it on as he approached her. Closer up she was even more star-like, with a head full of lustrous red hair that shined like spun glass in the sunlight. She sat on the bike – a vintage Indian – and waited for him until he was near. Then she pulled off her sunglasses, revealing sparkling green eyes whose gaze locked his on them.

“'Lo, Roy.”

“Do I know ya?” he asked.

“Ye canna remember me, Roy?”

He looked at her carefully, then said, “Lady, if I’d’ve met ya b’fore, I woulda r’membered ya.”

“Ye wound me, Roy,” she said, smiling. “I came here lookin’ fer ye, an’ ye greet me in such a manner.”

A creak of a spring signaled the front door of the house opening. Roy cast a glance that way, and saw Becky standing on the porch, watching. He suddenly knew how the bug under the magnifying glass felt.

“Look, Miss…”

“Love.”

Roy blushed slightly at the name and hoped Becky didn’t hear it.

“Look Miss Love, I…”

“Call me Maggie, Roy.”

“Uh… Okay. Look Maggie… My wife… that is…”

The red-head looked at Roy’s wife.

“Who is she?”

The question took Roy by surprise. Who was she to ask who his wife was?

“Rebecca. My wife.”

The stranger grinned. “Her hair’s not quite red an’ not quite blonde. Who’ve ye been dreamin’ o’ Roy?”

Roy looked to Rebecca for support, but his vision blurred. He staggered backward, sticking out a hand to brace himself against his truck.

“Pop!” came a shout from behind, and when Roy turned to look for his son, the whole world seemed to fold on itself.

There was… a dream? A preacher. Then coolness brought him back around.

The cold cloth lifted from his face and he could see Becky’s concerned frown for a moment before she flipped the cloth over and placed it back over his eyes and forehead.

“Who was she?” Becky asked.

“D..dunno…”

Roy closed his eyes and heard the strange woman’s voice in his mind.

Who’ve ye been dreamin’ o’ Roy?

[i]The Lords of Order and Chaos were quite perplexed when the Ascension of the new Destroyer occured. Their expectation of receiving an amalgamation of the soul of the human and the essence of the banished Spinner of the Wheel was unmet by the pair beings standing before them.

"My brothers," the Destroyer said upon his return to the Great Gaming Hall, "Your crimes against me shall be forgiven."

A great murmuring arose from the Assembled.

The returned Lord of Chaos, Destroyer regarded the entity that had arrived with him. He sneered at it's familiar verdant glow.

"So, my adversary, you have slipped in on the tail of my cloak. You shall be the first to perish beneath the Wheel."

"I think not," said the ascended Jewel Entity. He indicated the fragmented wheel on it's broken spindle. "You have arrived without your willing consort. No soul to be bound to the wheel. You also failed to reassemble the Wheel of Destruction in its earthly manifestation."

The Destroyer began a low complaining grumble that quickly grew into a rolling rumble that shook the very hall in which the Lords stood.

Two of the Lords of Order, Law and Rule, came forward.

"We have discussed this... unexpected change," Law began, "and have reached an agreement."

Rule spoke next. "To maintain balance, certain Guidelines must be followed..."

In a place where time has no meaning, Rule recited those Guidelines. Balance between death and life, matter and energy, creation and destruction, and other balances of seemingly trivial importance were mentioned. When he had finished, he reiterated the directives for bannishing and reinstating a Lord of Destruction, and reconstructing a Wheel of Destruction.

"However," Law continued when Rule was done, "your arrival without the binding and also your failure to procure a willing consort have failed to meet the requirements of the Guidelines."

"And yet, I am here. I will take my place."

Law and Rule stepped back among their brethren.

"The Lords of Order cannot violate the Guidelines, Destroyer. We cannot violate our rules."

A murmur arose again, but was quickly hushed by Law's upraised hand.

"This situation," Law said, "Shall be remanded to your brethren, the Lords of Chaos."

The Destroyer smiled. He opened his arms as if to embrace the Lords of Chaos. Their arms remained at their sides, the Destroyer's smile remained unreturned.

The Lord of Chaos, Strife stepped forward.

"You have violated one whom I have favored, Destroyer, and in doing so you threaten the balance for which we all strive."

The Destroyer sneered. "So, you felt the need to restore my office, yet you would not have me? Who will you supplant me with? Is there another immortal at hand to replace me? I think not."

"I think so"

All heads turned to the speaker.

"As a being of perpetual energy who found sentience within the jewel which powered the mortal whose destiny has been diverted..."

The Jewel Entity stepped close to the framework which housed the broken Wheel.

"...and having been bound to the soul of said mortal..."

The Jewel Entity touched the spindle.

"I believe I could turn the Wheel, despite it's crippled condition. I believe I could use it just as it is. The destruction will have to be conducted in a slow and careful manner. The wheel shall be fragile, even after a spirit has been bound to it."

Strife stepped forward and touched the spindle also.

"Agreed," he said, uncharacteristically.

The Lord of Chaos, Deceiver stepped forward.

"Brother," he spoke to the Destroyer, "I would not allow this. You would be restored, once again one with your Wheel, would you not?"

"Yes," replied the angry Destroyer.

"So be it," said the Deceiver, smiling. "Let your word bind you."

The Destroyer's eyes widened with the realization of the Deceiver's statement, and he screamed as his form dematerialized.

The Wheel of Destruction shuddered in its housing as the immortal essence entered it.

The Jewel Entity's emerald glow filled the hall for a moment before it dimmed, not quite disappearing altogether.

The Lords of Order and Chaos moved to the gaming table.

"Come, brother," Strife said to the new Lord of Chaos, Destroyer, "Join us in the Game."

In a place that was everywhere, yet nowhere, the Lords of Order and of Chaos had continued to play their games. Creation had spilled over into other universes, and the Lords worked to maintain balance througout all of them.

Among the creations were beings, some would call them avatars, of Order and of Chaos. These beings served a high calling and were gifted with special abilities. In some universes they were known as Highlords. In others perhaps they were called Champions. In still others they were called Superheroes. The Lords of Order and the Lords of Chaos smiled upon these beings and granted them favor, and the beings in return fought for balance, and often worshipped an aspect of the particular Lord in which they found favor.

For eons it was thus, since the banishment of the Destroyer and the breaking of the Wheel of Destruction.

And yet, among the Lords of Chaos were many who felt that the balance leaned far to much to the side of Order. And among the Lords of Order were a few who worried that the pace of creation would eventually exceed the amounts of raw stardust and souldust from which everything in the cosmos was made.

So, a plan was set to bring back the Lord of Chaos, Destroyer, and repair the Wheel of Destruction, albeit both in different forms.

The Destroyer was brought out of the darkness and was melded to the core of a seedsoul. This, in turn, was sent to a human's spawn and a new Destroyer was born, a Destroyer that would know human compassion and would take no joy in wanton destruction. A Destroyer who would be careful what he chose to annihilate.

The Bringer of Dreams, who had served the Lords well and had originally conceived the plan which had brought the Destroyer down was given charge over the Destroyer-to-be.

In 1965 Benjamin Kirby, later to be known as "Roy", was born.

The farm was breathtaking in the spring. Rolling green mountains rose above acres of soil, plowed and laid in rows that would soon be green with soybeans, melons, and corn. Around the middle of summer, the tourists driving through the area would start turning down the long dirt road to the Kirby place to buy a fresh watermelon to enjoy on their vacation. Some of the tourists would be invited to sit on the long, shady front porch to enjoy a glass of cider made from the apples that grew apple grove that bordered the highway south of the farmhouse.

L’il Ben, as the family called him (even though he was, like his father, not so little), was in his second year at the University of Georgia, in Athens. Ma and Pa Kirby continued to enjoy good health as they entered their senior years. Old man Werner, who had been in the family’s employ for as long as anyone could remember still lived in the old shack a quarter mile from the house. And Rebecca was still as beautiful as the day Roy had married her, .

Roy took his shirt off and laid it across the back of the tractor seat. Even though it was May, the noonday sun still was enough to cause him to break a sweat. His muscles rippled as he fought with the steering wheel of the old dependable machine. The big red tractor swung and dragged the heavy plow behind it, laying furrows as its white wheels churned in the fertile soil.

“Hey, Pop!” came a shout from beside him.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that, son,” Roy chided Ben. “This thing’s dangerous.”

“I know that, Pop. Remember? I used to drive it all the time before I left for school.”

Roy smiled down at his boy. “Wanna drive it t’day?”

Ben’s sudden broad grin was answer enough, and Roy pulled up on the brake, climbed down off of the seat and turned the tractor over to his son.

“Be careful,” he warned, “It’s a little bit older now than it was. The steering’s a little bit looser.”

“Aw, Pop.”

Roy shook his head and threw up a hand, smiling as he walked away. Ya can’t argue with youn’uns, he thought.

Becky met him on the porch with a tall glass of iced tea. “Sure you want to leave him on his own?”

Roy turned around and looked back at his grown-up son laying a row for a field of Kentucky Wonder beans. “He’ll be all right. Hell, if he can drive th’ highway from Athens ta here, then drivin’ that ol’ horse oughta be a piece o’ cake.”

Roy sat down in a cane-back porch rocker, Becky taking her place in the identical rocker beside it to the right.

“You pa wishes you’d grow more yellow feed corn and less of that Silver Queen”

Roy took his wife’s hand. “Well, Pa’s havin’ a hard time turnin’ loose o’ runnin’ things. Everybody’s growin’ cowfeed. Th’ tourist’s ‘ll buy th’ Silver Queen an’ we can also take some across th’ line ta th’ farmer’s market in Franklin.”

Becky squeezed his hand. “I’m glad we decided to stay here.” Her eyes were on her son as he made the turn to lay another row. “I can’t imagine any other life.”

Roy took a sip of his tea while his thumb lightly traced around his wife’s wedding ring. “Me to,” he quietly replied.

They watched their son as he worked, knowing he was destined for a different path other than the farm. From their vantage point, he looked like a young teenager again.

L’il Ben was nearly done with the tomato field. Becky disappeared into the house as Roy stood and started walking to instruct his son to park the tractor and come up to the porch for some cold tea. Ben had one more strip to plow. He swung the old tractor around for one more go.


Roy saw the left front wheel lean a little too much, but he was a little too late to warn his son about it. The wheel suddenly snapped off of the axle, and the tractor dropped down and to the left, jarring Ben off of the seat. The giant, water and anti-freeze-filled back tires continued to push the tractor along until the broken axle dug into the ground and the heavy machine flipped over on it’s side.

The plow with its sharp steel wheels and wickedly pointed tines was lifted up until it broke loose and lurched forward, dropping with a thud into the dirt.

Roy couldn’t see his boy.

He ran, screaming as he hurried for someone to call an ambulance. Becky and Ma Kirby came out the front door to see what was happening, then Becky dashed along in Roy’s path while Ma Kirby went inside to call 911.

Roy and Becky worked desperately. Ben had already lost a lot of blood. They couldn’t move him. The plow had come to rest across his legs and one arm. The rear fender of the tractor had his other arm pinned. Roy dug under the bleeding limbs while his wife took off her shirt and began ripping it into strips. Tourniquets would, hopefully stanch the bleeding until help arrived.

Roy didn’t want to think about what shape his son was in. Becky took what was left of her shirt and dabbed her son’s forehead.

She looked at Roy. Sure you want to leave him on his own?

The accusation was in her eyes.

In what seemed like an eternity, paramedics arrived, followed closely by a Danville Fire and Rescue rig.

A tall, slender man with pale skin and jet black hair jumped out of the back of the ambulance.

The Bringer of Dreams looked at Roy and said, “You just won’t be happy, will you, BenRoy?”

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

Roy opened one eye and looked at the same beautiful face he had woken up to everyday for the past twenty years.

"Mornin', babe."

A slender woman with laugh-lines on her face and a nest of strawberry blond hair smiled at him. Her green eyes looked into his own. She gently kissed him on the cheek and stroked his face.

Roy put a big arm around her and pulled her close, answering her kiss on the cheek with another on the lips.

"Nuh-uh," she said, pushing him away and climbing over him to get out of bed. "Don't you remember what today is?"

Roy thought for a moment. He was having trouble focusing on which day of the week it was, let alone whether it was some special day -- an anniversary or something. Then the memory came to him.

"Oh! L'il Ben's comin' home from college t'day!"

The woman slipped on a robe then said to her husband, "Well, I'm glad you remembered."

Roy nodded satisfied that he had not forgotten their only son's homecoming. Then he looked at the clock. 8:00 a.m.

"Hey," he said, grabbing his wife's hand and pulling her back down to the bed, "It's a five hour drive. If he got up at six, like he said he would, but knowin' him, I doubt, he won't be home for another three hours."

The strawberry blonde nodded and grinned knowingly. She carressed Roy's face then kissed him again.

Roy closed his eyes and sighed happily.

So, th’ idea I had o’ installin’ a self-destruct fail-safe with a remote control worked pretty good. So long as it knew somebody somewhere could press that button, th’ Lord o’ Chaos wuz afraid ta stick his nose up inta my business. Between that an’ whatever Shae had done in my subconscience had kept th’ “Evil Roy” outta my hair long enough ta take care o’ my affairs.

A will. Transferrin’ all my royalties from th’ cartoon show over ta my folks an’ my kid. I even took th’ bonus check I got fer renewin’ my contract with th’ Cartoon Channel an’ had it fixed so that whenever Maggie an’ Smersh get married, it goes ta Maggie’s Rock as a weddin’ gift.

I put in a good word fer th’ Other Guys so maybe Swamp Bug’s legacy could continue an’ maybe Steely’d could take over an’ run it with a good bunch o’ young ‘uns.

Th’ only regret wuz how things went with Julia. She didn’t deserve fer me ta make ‘er unhappy. I shoulda been satisfied that she wuz honest enough with me ta not jerk me around. But not me. NOoo. I gotta show my a$$ in public an’ embarrass us both.

Hell, I’d done th’ same thing with Maggie.

No wonder I can’t land a steady gal. I’m a loser.

I figgered it wuz time. I figgered if I cashed it in, maybe this Assendin’ thing th’ “Evil Roy” had talked about couldn’t happen.

I found out where I could find a baddie who wuz strong enough ta take me out permanent. I ditched my mediport patch an’ headed ta a cave b’side Platinum Lake in Steel Canyon.

Th’ Envoice o’ Shaddas wuz in there.

I’d tangled with ‘im twice b’fore an’ if it wuzn’t fer Parz an’ Kelp, he woulda killed me th’ first time. I dunno how I made it out th’ second time. This time I’d make sure it wuz just me an’ him. An’ I’d fight until I couldn’t fight no more.

About halfway through beatin’ up th’ coven that wuz scattered through th’ caves, Kricky beeped up on my comm. Geez. She just got outta th’ hospital an’ wuz worryin’ about if I wuz okay. She’s a good kid. She’d done ‘er best ta stop me from yellin’ at Julia in th’ park, in front o’ everybody. She done everything she could ‘cept maybe gimme a boot ta th’ head.

Kricky’s a good friend. Too good fer me, considerin’ I went kinda nuts an’ tried ta kill ‘er when she wuz laid up in th’ hospital.

Hell, I shoulda just went an’ told Shin all about what I done if I really wanted ta die.

Anyways, I told Kricky, no, her assistance wuzn’t needed, an’ went on deeper inta th’ cave. I could feel that nasty demon down there somewhere.

When I found ‘im, I swear, he smiled. He smiled an’ extended his hand like he wuz gonna shake mine.

It wuz weird. I found myself extendin’ my own hand. I could almost swear I wuz smilin’ back.

An’ now…

Now I’m here in th’ dark again. An' I really don't wanna go back.

((Again, I must thank Shae Firewarder for her invaluable help with this story. Thanks, Shae!))

Joe Reed looked out the tinted window of the Chevrolet he sat in. Life as he had known it was over for him. He had told the FBI about the corruption among the guards at the Zig. If he didn’t leave Paragon City, his life wouldn’t be worth a plug-nickel.

It didn’t matter though. Nothing mattered. He would never see her again. The vision. The goddess. The siren that would haunt his dreams from now until the day he died.

He had not intended to tell her anything, but when she showed up in that green outfit, looking more like an ideal of a woman than an actual woman, he couldn’t help but tell her everything.

The room in the Geneva Hotel was supposed to be secure, with guards inside the room and out in the hall. Guards with weapons designed to take down even a cape, if one showed up. But this Shae Firewarder walked right in and those FBI men treated her like she was in charge.

“Somebody’s here to ask you some questions,” they told him.

“So what're you wanting to talk to me about?” he asked. “I've spilled all the beans I plan to.”

She regarded him coolly, then said, “I have a photograph...and I was wondering if you could tell me anything about a person in it.”

At that point the FBI men left the room, shutting the door behind them. Joe wondered what kind of influence this woman had. They left him sitting in the room with only a small desk between him and the heroine.

Shae Firewarder slid the photo across the desk to him, keeping her fingers on it, prepared to snatch it back if she needed to.

He suppressed a nervous shudder, looked at the photograph and said, “Looks like Ireland Love fighting a superdine addict.”

He kept his head down as he spoke. If he looked her in the eyes, there was no way he’d be able to lie to her.

She tapped her fingers on the photo and said, “Joe... I think there is more to this than that...”

He looked up and his nerve broke. “Look... You gotta promise me... I mean...” He began wringing his hands to dry the sweat that was forming on his palms. “I mean, Bullets won't stop no big robot. You got me?”

Shae Firewarder looked at Joe Reed, "I don't intend to tell him where you are. I know well enough the power of this one."


Joe nodded, and said, “That big green guy in the picture? I don't know who it is...”

“But?”

“I mean I recognize him... But I don't know no name or anything like that.”

“You recognize him from…?”

“He's the one... He paid me to shoot Roy.”

Joe looked up again at Shae Firewarder. Her beauty was intimidating. He wanted to tell her everything, so he did.

“I didn’t do it for the money. Roy was after my wife… I know he was. When this guy came up and wanted this hit done… I couldn’t pass up the chance.”

Joe looked to Shae Firewarder for some sign that she understood, that his motive made sense. I didn’t get that assurance.

“Roy wasn’t a bad guy, but… How am I supposed to compete with a superhero?”

“Find a girl who think that superheroes are too dangerous to date, I suppose.”

“You try that in this town, toots.” Joe immediately regretted saying toots.

Shae Firewarder continued to look coolly at him.

“Us regular joes don't stand a chance... Guys like Captain Valor and Ascendant and their little groupies... You people dont' think us civilians hear about all of that?”

Shae Firewarder’s eyes suddenly glowed with an angry fire. “Hear about the groupies? The stories are in the papers...and the photographers follow the heroes everywhere, selling the pictures…” She tapped the photo in question.

“Serves you people right,” Joe snapped, again regretting it almost before the words flew from his lips. Then he mustered up what meager courage he had and added, “You like the fame... You like the percs. You know what? I'd shoot him again!”


He looked away from her again, unable to keep his eyes on her and continue speaking.

“I'd do it for every guy in this town who's lost his wife or girlfriend to some jerk in a cape.”

He looked at the picture, “Anyway, that’s him. That’s the guy that ordered the hit.”

Shae Firewarder withdrew the photo, and stashed it. “Thank you for the identification.”

“I want my guards back now.”


“That would probably be for the best,” she said, and knocked on the door for the FBI men to come back in.

Joe watched her leave as his guards frisked him.

He watched her walk out the door and would spend the rest of his days knowing that beauty was as crushing as 900 pounds of titanium.

The Destroyer at last reached the end of the maze. It had kept him busy for days, but now the battle could begin anew. Now it could reach past the human's subconscious and interact again with the outside. This time it would be more subtle.

Roy sat in Gemini and felt the sun warm his arms. He knew it wasn't a real sensation. Only a simulated one. Just like the terrible tuna dish he and Julia had shared at Elaine's Bistro the night before.

The wind ruffled his hair, which he knew wasn't hair, but a very close approximation of hair. The jewel entity had done well for him. It almost felt like a real body.

Sitting near him was Julia, the wind blowing her hair like golden silk. He wanted to tell her. He needed to tell her.

He couldn't.

He looked at the friends gathered around the park, passing time, relaxing. Building strength for the next day's battles. He hoped he would be able to protect them all.

Sometime, between the arrival of Horned Viper and Flam-Belle, and the city bus knocking him down, he blacked out.

The Destroyer smiled to himself. He had pushed the human just enough to find out how far he could go before he was noticed. Then he had quietly taken charge until the human ran screaming out of the park.

His time in control had been short, but productive.

The Viper woman, a sorceress, had promised to make her friend, Roy, unkillable. No unforseen betrayal could stop him after that.

Then there was the other matter. The woman. Julia?

The human felt strongly about her. That was good. Nothing destroyed a soul quicker than love.

The Destroyer smiled at himself again, and plotted.

Hero of the City

HEROID had never seen it before.

He had heard about it. Read about it. Everybody had.

The size of it made him dizzy to think about it. The very concept of it blew him away.

A spaceship.

He moved over the rubble as quietly as possible. Rikti soldiers were all around, and were well-armed. He was alone and he knew he would be no match for them. He really shouldn’t be here.

But he had to see it.

He put a titanium finger up to touch the force-field that surrounded the craft. It looked as thin and fragile as a soap bubble, but it felt harder than…

Than he was.

From the bottom of the crash site, Roy looked up. It was like looking up from a grave. He stood in silence and thought about the lives that had been lost from the incredible force of the crash. Enough. He had seen enough.

Carefully, as quietly as possible he began to make his way out of the crater. A leap would bring a barrage of fire his way. Sometimes slow was better.

A loose rock suddenly sent him sliding back downhill. He crashed with a bang against the forcefield and got to his feet quickly, watching to see if any of the Rikti soldiers had heard the noise.

If he had breath at that moment, he would have held it.

Nothing. No sound of running alien feet. No buzzing and whirring of weapons being activated.

He looked up at the rim again.

He waited for someone to throw a shovelful of dirt in his face.

With a sigh, he began the long climb.

That’s when he saw it. Disturbed by his slide, glimmering in the groove he had made in the ash and rocks, it glittered in the sun for the first time in who knew how long. It was only a few steps away.

HEROID picked up the small piece of shining metal and looked at it.

Hero of the City

He marveled. Who would have left this prize just lying there? Why? Had someone dropped it? Would the city replace one of these if it was lost? That didn’t make sense. If they did, then there would be “Hero of the City” badges all over Ebay. It was a cinch that nobody threw this away. He felt sorry for the hero who lost it.

Then he noticed something. A tiny dark spot in the center. He held the badge up to the sun and examined its silhouette. Just what he thought. The tiny dark spot, with the sun behind it, was now a bright shining pinhole. Tiny. As if made by a laser.

He looked down at the disturbed earth where he had found it. Would such a pinhole be enough to kill a hero? He thought about himself. He had withstood bullets. Swords. Chemicals. Explosions. Even energy blasts. But what would a pinhole of cohesive light do to him if it penetrated his armor and his defense fields and reached the special motherboard that held his soul inside this body?

He knew a guy who was made of energy, his sentience contained in a special suit. What if a tiny laser beam put a hole in that guy’s suit.

HEROID looked at the badge and back to the spot at his feet where he had picked it up. He was pretty sure someone had made their last stand here. He was pretty sure he was standing on hallowed ground.

He laid the badge back into the furrow he had found it in and covered it up.

Then he took a few steps up the hill, and – weapons barrage be damned – he leapt to the sky, into the land of the living.

Benjamin Roy Kirby sat thinking as the small-framed, bald-headed man behind the desk read over the document. Every now and then, the man would interrupt Roy's reverie with a question, then he would take a pencil make a scratch and a scribble, then continue reading.

Meanwhile, Roy continued to think.

Thinking was a process that was coming easier to him these days. He wasn't sure what had happened exactly, but for the moment he was free of fake memories and the constant internal wrestling with the other intelligences that were inhabiting him. He was taking advantage of the reprieve.

So many of his friends had become distrustful of him, and rightly so. But as much as he could, he would make amends. And as best as he could, he would protect them from the time to come.

"Mr. Kirby, right here you..."

Roy leaned over the desk and looked at the particular phrase the smaller man was indicating with the tip of his pencil.

"Uh... oh. Heh. I spelled it like 'agitated'... I meant 'animated'. Sorry."

The small man "hrmed" then continued scratching and scribbling.

Roy went back to thinking.

Dating Julia went against his number-one dating rule. "Don't date gals that are young enough ta be yer daughter."

But there was something about her...

She seemed more mature than most of the twenty-somethings he knew. It was like she knew as much about life as he ever would. It was in her eyes. And that was what captivated him about her. That look.

That look told him no matter what he was going through, no matter what he had been through, she would be tough enough to go through it also.

He only wished she wasn't from the future.

If she was from Montana. Or Tennessee. Or Bolivia. Someplace he had actually been. Someplace he could discuss with her.

She couldn't talk about the future. He couldn't ask.

He wasn't sure he would want to hear about the future anyway. The last time he'd asked a time-traveller anything, it was Mike and Quest's kid. And the future she described... He knew it would never happen. It was a parallel. The same parallel Julia was from.

It was a future he would never see.

The small man finished reading the document and looked up from his work.

"Well, Mr. Kirby, I'll have this typed up and you can come by tomorrow at your convenience to sign it."

Roy stood, and offered the man his hand to shake.

"Geez, That didn't take as long as I thought'd take."

"No, you had everything worked out pretty well. It looks pretty thorough."

"Well, I went ta an accountant an' had all my assests figgered up."

"Wise. Well, I will see you tomorrow, Mr. Kirby."

"Yeah," Roy said and walked out of the lawyer's office.

Tommorrow he would make a point to stop by and sign his last will and testament.

The Destroyer could not believe the Djinn's bravado. He had been sure to keep Roy Kirby's spirit out of the realm of dreams. Yet here she was, barging in, pulling the human's subconsciousness into that realm, leaving his machinations open to the spying eyes of the Bringer.

Worse, his first reaction was to confront her openly. Instead, he should have ignored her. Let her wander the emptiness of the human's dreams until she realized the futility of it and left.

Now, he too had entered the dreamscape. A dreamscape the djinn had designed.

He sighed. Weariness should be beneath him. Yet these friends of the human were grinding away at his immortal patience as surely as he would soon be grinding their souls.

The chase through the maze had its intended effect. He was in the dream now, and would see it through. To do otherwise would surely bring calling the ruler of this realm.

A maze. Which way had he just turned? Wasn't there only two forks at this junction a moment ago?

Shae Firewarder would suffer. Oh, she would suffer...

The Destroyer sat in the darkness. It was where he was most comfortable.

As powerful as this mortal was, there were a multitude of other beings in Paragon City as powerful, or even more powerful. Worse, to interact on this earthly plane, his omniscient intellect was filtered through the apelike mind of this "Roy".

In the darkness, the Destroyer could plan and could visualize the outcome so clearly.

Out there was confusion, harrassment, and, if only momentary, defeat. They swarmed on him like wasps. They had forced him into retreat.

The one mistake he had made had been giving them Roy back, albeit with altered memories to make him completely disfunctional. The blasted Irish woman and the alien, Solarian Wind had taken the idiot to Sister Psyche. She had given Roy his memories back. Now the imbecile was in control again!

Damn her. Damn all of them.

No... Not damned. Souldust. They would all be souldust. No eternal reward for these creatures. Not even an eternal condemnation. Nor would any of them be given the chance to be reborn.

Annhihilation. Souldust. Ground beneath the Wheel.

In the meantime, since taking control of the human seemed to bring out the fool's friends, the Destroyer would try another tactic.

Deep within the soul of Benjamin Roy Kirby, a small black worm began eating its way to the center...

Roy sat in the dark, wishing for a rescue. He had been here for days, buried deep, alone. It didn't matter that no one came. He expected no one. His fate was sealed.

It wasn't the eventual non-existence that bothered him. It was that he was facing it alone. In the dark.

Then he felt a familiar presence.

Maggie...

Roy tried to force his voice out through the demon's mouth, but he felt himself being pushed down, down, until he feared he no longer existed.

Help.

He could almost feel her hand wrap around his, her voice telling him to keep hope alive.

Then he had a memory. Maggie was dead. Parzifal had killed her in a fit of...

Why? Why would Parzifal kill her?

But she was dead. He remembered holding her still form in his arms.

But he had felt her presence, he knew it...

Roy closed the eyes of his soul and sat back down in the darkness...

Alone.

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

((And "whipped"!?! Maggie Love, I'll have you know Evil Roy is not whipped! He was just exhibiting uh... cunning subservience... yeah, that's th' ticket... cunning subservience...

Yes, I will even argue with you ooc on the message boards. ))

The young photographer sat at the drive-thru and handed the girl in the window his last four dollars. The scent of french fries wafting into his car was making his stomach grumble.

He would enjoy this meal. It might be his last for a while.

On the seat beside him, in a manilla folder was what he had hoped would turn into enough money to pay this months rent and buy some groceries.

But nobody wanted these pictures.

Who's this supposed to be?

He had heard this from every newspaper and tabloid editor in Paragon City.

Always his answer was, It's Ireland Love fighting Heroid.

The next comment was also the same from every editor.

Heroid's a robot, kid. This just looks like she's beating up some superdine junkie Troll.

And it did.

Superhero savagely fighting superhero was news. Pictures of such an event could turn into big bucks, especially for a celebrity superhero like Ireland Love.

But superheroes taking down Trolls were a dime a dozen.

Well, maybe, just maybe, if he posted them on Ebay, he could get at least a little money from some Maggiephile.

The young man drove off, wishing he had taken the photos with his digital instead of his old 35mm. Scanning was so much slower.

((Okay, this isn't a story post, just a kinda catchup thing so I can post a neat bit of dialogue from some rp last night.

HEROID began his superhero career as a robot with a human soul trapped inside. Then, with the help of Ireland Love, he gained the ability to magically transform into a human. During this time, HEROID began having dealings with an immortal being called the Bringer of Dreams.


The human body was recently assassinated, leaving only the robot form.

Now, HEROID's body is possessed by three sentient entities:

Roy, whish is the human soul that originally inhabited HEROID

The Jewel Entity who is an intelligence that developed from the gem in HEROID's chest which supplies him with unlimited power. The Jewel Entity also possesses the ability to realign the molecules of HEROID's body on a subatomic level, so that Roy can appear to be human.

The Lord of Chaos -- Destroyer, Spinner of the Wheel of Destruction! who is an evil Lord of Chaos. The Destroyer seeks to destroy the other entities inhabiting the body and also to gather to itself the pieces of the earthly manifestation of the Wheel of Destruction.

After the battle with the Envoy of Shadows, the Lord of Chaos took control. He encountered several people in Gemini Park who claimed to have pieces of the Wheel of Destruction. He wagered the remains of Roy's soul against the pieces of the Wheel in an arena battle.

Several heroes responded. The battle against Evil Roy was short-lived, but the Destroyer had already sought to influence some of the heroes to fight for him...

Apparently, he caught Teras Lyn in a moment of weakness. Teras viciously fought the other heroes as the evil Lord urged him on...

Ultimately, Teras came to his senses, and Roy's soul was spared!

Following is a great bit of closing dialogue from the end of the arena rp. I did very little editing.

----------------------
Tessarae: Fight him, Teras. Do not be weaker than he.
HEROID:::No! Serve me!
Teras Lyn: =roars=- NO! I serve NOONE!
Tessarae: Thou canst break free.
Teras Lyn: you be quiet witch
HEROID: ::Yes, don't let her tell you what to do.
Teras Lyn: you too, demon
HEROID: ::She is a witch. He (Parzifal) is a knight?
HEROID: ::One of them is obviously a lie.
Teras Lyn: perhaps it is you that lies
HEROID: ::Why would I lie?
Kelp Plankton: ...what ARE you, anyway?
Teras Lyn: what do i fight for?
Statesboy: He figures this out after he nearly cracks my head open.
Tessarae: Methinks Teras ist much stronger than thou dost give him credit for, Deceiver.
HEROID: ::I shall ascend no matter what you mortals do. This is but a game.
Kelp Plankton: I'm really sick of that mortal crap.
HEROID: ::We Lords love our games.
Teras Lyn: =closes his eyes, relaxing=-
Parzival: I have been for some time, Sir Kelp.
Kelp Plankton: You can be killed. You're mortal, too.
HEROID: ::Mortal? Me?
Kelp Plankton: Yep.
Teras Lyn: =laughs lightly=- oh lord?
HEROID: ::The Lords of Order only wish it were so.
Teras Lyn: you lose
Tessarae: *smiles to herself*
Tessarae: Thine words art weak, Deceiver.
HEROID:::You are weak, Teras Lyn.
Tessarae: Nay. He ist strong.
Teras Lyn: you forgot that as a hero i dont fight for myself
Teras Lyn: =stands strong=-
HEROID: ::Yes. Yet, you all fought for nothing.
Teras Lyn: i fight for those who cant fight
Teras Lyn: for those not strong enough to fight
Tessarae: I came to the defense of my friends.
Parzival: To protect.
Teras Lyn: that's what makes me strong, not brute force, but my will to help others
Kelp Plankton: For nothing?
Kelp Plankton: We showed you that we can beat the [censored] out of you.
--------------------

I just really loved that bit of dialogue. It brought tears to my eyes. You were all so superheroic! Thanks everybody who participated. Also thanks to Ice of Hell and James Walton (Wal-Man) for also participating.))

The Envoy of Shadows stood over the large human. Twice it had faced this human, and twice it had defeated him. Such a fool. If not for the water-blaster this human’s soul would have been consumed the first time they’d clashed.

The Envoy crouched down over Roy’s body and began the work of eating his soul.

Then it stopped. Something else was here. Something higher than a human soul.

“Do you need some help?” a disembodied voice said.

The human mumbled something, but the Envoy paid no attention.

“You…” the Envoy of Shadows said, looking at the body quizzically. “Something about you is… familiar…”

“You know me.” The voice was coming from the human form. “From before time you know me, in your essence…”

“Yesss. You are… the Destroyer…”

“Destroy his soul. Leave this form to me alone.”

The Envoy of Shadows stood and paced around the prone figure.

“Nooo… It is not my placcce to bring you into being, Dark One. But know that thisss one will ssserve you when you assscend.”

“I will remember you, demon. And when next I call on you, you will heed my command.”

“Yesss. But at presssent… I cannot. I am hindered by ccccircumstance. I am not in the plan.”

The Envoy of Shadows lifted the human and laid it over its shoulder. It carried the human back through the labyrinth and dumped him on the lakeshore outside the entrance, then rolled the boulder that hid the entrance back into place. Once back inside, it had a good laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

The human’s soul was good and kind. Noble in it’s simple way. The Destroyer would have no difficulty grinding it into annihilation.

The Envoy of Shadows. More Circle of Thorns mumbo jumbo.

Roy's contact seemed to think the Envoy of Shadows was back. This seemed implausible, because Roy knew Kelp Plankton, Parzifal, and Modron X had put the demon away only days ago. Roy had watched most of the battle from the floor.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to check out this cave. At least it would get Mr. Kestrel off his back.

As a mining equipment operator for Crey Industries, caves and tunnels had once been a big part of his life, but now he felt claustrophobic. There had been too many bad experiences underground since he had arrived in Paragon City. He fought back the urge to rush through this assignment and worked his way through the subterranean maze.

A few minor mages and a couple of dismissible demons lurked in the labyrinth. They were easily dispatched. There was a makeshift altar which Roy carefully disassembled, tagging certain items for teleportation to MAGI. Overall the mission was cake.

One more tunnel to explore, then he would be off to hang out with his friends and enjoy some down time.

His mind turned to a party he had attended a couple of nights ago. He had talked Bridget into drinking a pina colada and the results had been both humorous and somewhat amorous. He smiled when he thought about the kiss she had given him. Of course he shouldn’t have done it. He apologized to her, and Parzifal thought none the worse of him for it. Still, he felt a bit guilty. He’d have to make it up to her. Maybe take her and Parz out to dinner. Not a date, just friends out for an evening…

And Bridget, like himself, was currently inhabited by more than one entity. He laughed to himself. What are the odds? And the name of her other… Morgan Leffay? Morgaws? Something like that. He’d have to remember next time he saw Bridget to ask her about it.

Bridget was much more attractive than she gave herself credit for. The more he was around her, the more he…

What was that?

A sound ahead.

Roy braced himself for another battle. Rounding a bend and entering a large chamber, he spotted a leathery wing sticking out above a massive rock formation. Another demon lord. Crunch time!

“Hiya, big an’ ugly!” he taunted. “Lemme help ya get back ta where ya come from!”

The demon stepped from behind the formation and Roy immediately knew he had made a mistake. This was no typical devil. This was the Envoy of Shadows.

The first hit put Roy on his back. The second rattled him and his body would not respond to the command to get back up and fight. The third hit set off fireworks in his head then he felt himself losing consciousness.

A voice from somewhere said, “Do you need some help?”

“Y-y-yeah…” he said and faded to black.

He woke up outside the cave, on the bank of Platinum Lake. From inside, he could hear the Envoy of Shadows howling in triumph.

Whoever had got him out of there hadn’t stuck around, but he was thankful for the rescue.

The Bringer of Dreams sat with his sister and watched the Lords play their game. The gameboard was the universe, the pieces -- the entities, bodies, and forces that functioned therein.

The Lords of Chaos had enjoyed a long winning streak. All of the carefully planned creations of the Lords of Order were nearly gone, crushed at the end of each round beneath the Wheel of Destruction, returned to the infinitely fine dust from which the Builders would create again.

"The Wheel spins too much, I fear," Dream whispered to his sister. "Some of the Lords of Order are petitioning their brothers to change the balance of the game."

Dream's sister thought for a moment, then frowned prettily and said, "I would not mind if the Wheel stopped spinning altogether. There are on longer any sentient beings for which I am purposed."

"Fear not, my sister. Death is as certain as life. The tide of the gaming will turn."

The Bringer of Death sighed a long, sad sigh, and replied, "Perhaps."

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of laughter in the infinite hall. The Lords of Order stepped back from the game board in defeat as the Lords of Chaos hooted and cheered. Or at least most of them. Two Chaos Lords were noticibly silent in their victory.

The Lord Destroyer fairly danced the distance from the game to the Wheel. He tossed his mighty head back in a shout of joy, and with the only arms powerful enough to do so, he spun the Wheel of Destruction yet again.

The gameboard swirled. Young worlds teaming with primordial potential cracked from internal pressures, or were burnt to giant cinders when their suns exploded. Then the stars themselves began collapsing upon themselves, pulling the bodies of the universe into their centers, until like an overfed child, they spewed forth their contents in the form of infinitely fine dust.

Death stood and turned away from her brother. "I will go now brother. I have seen enough. My purpose is to remain unfulfilled."

Dream placed a hand on her shoulder, and she paused.

"I too, have a purpose unfulfilled, my sister. I have only myself to spin dreams for."

She turned back to him, the sorrow in her heart ran in streaks down her pale face and shone in the blackness of her eyes.

"And what do you dream of my brother?"

"I dream of machinations that may be put in place, my sister. I dream of a plan..."

Erik Love's a good-hearted kid who's good ta his mom an' his little brother Billy.

Huntress... I've met 'er in th' park. Seems like a okay gal. Not real snooty, if ya know what I mean.

Sister Colette... Well... I used ta think she wuz pretty straight up, ya know? Like she always folla'd th' rules an' stuff. A straight-arrow type. Then she slipped Bridget that Kricky dust... Thanks, Colette! I really appreciate it!

All he had wanted was a beer.

Whether he was really flesh and bone, or whether he was a titanium robot realigned subatomically so that he resembled a human didn't matter. He had wanted a beer.

When he got to his secret stash in the cooler buried in Gemini Park, he had found it empty. Small matter. ATM machines were handy critters.

Usually.

This one he was looking at now showed him a balance of minus fifteen dollars. The service charge for failing to maintain a balance in his account.

There had been nearly $150,000.00 in there only a few weeks ago. Royalties and bonuses from the wildly successful HEROID, the Animated Series. Where could it have gone? He hadn't hit his bank account since...

...since before he was killed.

Damn. Why? Who was out to get him so badly that they would want to kill him and then rob him?

His head hurt. The part of him that could reason this out was busy containing a burst of activity from the part of him that must eventually take over.

All he wanted right now was a beer.