Mr_Grey

The rest of the banquet went by like a blur for Roland. He remembered enjoying the light meal he consumed, and dancing with Jessica. He remembered getting lost in her eyes.

Why did he suddenly feel like this? He'd been able to keep his thoughts of her so neutral for so long... No he hadn't. He'd made so many decisions in his life in recent years that put one reason ahead of all others, including ones that made more sense: her. He wanted to be close to her.

Why was he only realizing this now?

He noticed Malaise looking at him with a peculiar grin on his face. Roland narrowed his eyes at the strange psychic and the questionable hero shrugged dismissively.

If the self-styled artist thought something would come of this night, he was sorely mistaken. While Roland may have just opened his eyes to how he really felt about the girl he'd considered a friend, despite all odds to the contrary, he held no illusions or delusions that anything would come of it. Jessica had an active social and professional life outside his purview. Sometimes, especially on nights like this, he felt like the reason she tried to involve him in her life was more of a courtesy to make up for all the times his life had been in danger just for being her friend.

"I think it's time we go," she murmured suddenly when they finished a dance in the ball room, "I feel... I feel a little tipsy."

"You think you might make a scene?" he asked as he cleared his attention and looked to see how her own eyes were starting to droop, "Or pass out?"

"Yeah... I... I can go... You can stay if you-"

"I don't know anybody here," Roland interrupted, "I think I would rather just go home, too."

Jessica nodded and guided him to say her goodbyes to her family and friends. Her mother gazed at Roland for a few moments before finally reciprocating. Statesman, however, pulled Roland aside after the farewell.

"I trust you'll remain a gentleman with my granddaughter," he murmured, "She deserves the very best."

"I know my place in all of this, sir," Grey replied quietly, "I'll be sure she arrives home safely, then take my leave."

Marcus looked at the young man with an appreciative nod. Ms. Liberty pulled Roland away with an admonishing glance to her grandfather but didn't say anything.

They left the banquet and Jessica asked Roland if he'd had a good time. He had, and he was glad to have been there. He mentioned that it helped him put some things in perspective, though he didn't mention what. She replied that something similar had happened to her, but didn't elaborate.

Roland assumed she chose to find someone else to be with. It made sense to him, he was just some hanyak she'd met at random... Perhaps the whole point of this banquet was to say goodbye.

"I'll handle it with class," he thought to himself, "No point in getting upset... I knew it would be this way. I knew it would end, and she would try her best to spare my feelings. God... If only it had been yesterday or something... If only I didn't... If only I didn't feel this way..."

The limousine glided through the streets of Atlas Park, taking a more scenic path through the city than Roland would have taken. They could have dropped him off at his apartment, but he told Jessica... Megan... He started thinking of her by her more public civilian name... Better to start distancing himself now. In any case, he told her it would be best if he made sure she made it home safely.

"You're such a gentleman," she whispered dreamily as she rested her head on his shoulder.

She was half asleep when the limousine pulled up to her home. Roland gently nudged her and she asked if he was going to walk her to the door. It sounded like she was joking, but he agreed to and she smiled.

"I'll miss seeing that smile."

He got out of the limousine and walked around to her side to help her out. Jessica spoke to the driver for a few moments before finally exiting.

"I wanted to thank him for doing such a good job driving us through the city and letting us have our peace," she explained, "It was nice... It was nice being able to talk to you, Roland."

"We've talked often," he replied as he extended his arm for her to grasp.

Giggling, she did and leaned against him as they paced up the paved walkway to her house. She seemed to be breathing heavier as they reached the door. The light clicked on as they stepped onto the porch and she loosed her arm from around his. Turning him around, she gazed into his eyes and sighed.

"You look so handsome," Jessica's voice cracked and he noticed she had some tears in her eyes, "God, Roland, I'm so sorry about what's happened to you..."

"It's not your fault," he replied, hoping his voice sounded even, "You don't... You don't have to feel like you need to make anything up to me."

"Oh... When I saw you... On the floor of your apartment... And she was... She was... All I could think was 'Oh my God, I almost lost him!'"

"It's okay... It's okay."

He rested his hands on her shoulders to calm her. He didn't expect her to reach up and pull his face to hers. Their lips met and he felt his heart explode.

He didn't know how long they stayed in that position. It felt like forever, but could have been just a few seconds. What drew his attention away, however, was the limousine doors closing.

Breaking the embrace, and somewhat lightheaded by a flood of emotions, Roland looked to the car and saw the driver getting in the driver's seat. A moment later, he was driving away.

"...What?" he whispered, "Where... Where is he going? What's... What's going... What's going on?"

"Roland," Jessica said as she caressed his face and turned him back to her, "I told him to leave after I kissed you."

((Yes, yes, I know. I'm not going to explain anything here, though... Just know... It doesn't end like this.))

Find a job that leaves you with the capability to think while you work.

My job involves a lot of tedious digging. It lets me free my mind to wander about what I want to write.

I was trying to goad the person into declaring themselves publicly, but they got indignant and self-righteous on me from the safety in anonymity. I was getting bothered by other posters talking about it, too, and the fact that it seems like this is the new "One Star Bandit."

Oh well. The game is done for me. Time to find something better to focus on.

The Revolutionary War may have been won through guerrilla tactics, but this is not war nor does it have a point. It's just somebody jabbing at people from the shadows for their amusement.

I like to think that for a time, I caused it to cease being amusing.

*waits for the next red dot*

I've got ONE character that I think might get genericked... All it takes is one player looking at his name and going "Huh... I feel like being a jerk..."

Fortunately, I do have an alternate name for the character should that happen, but I rather like his "stage name."

And more...

Is an amazing cook!

At the opening of one of the Praetorian arc contacts, they explain that what they know of Praetorian Earth is that it's ruled by an evil version of the Freedom Phalanx and that, for a brief moment, they too were attacked by the Rikti. This is why the mission maps are mostly just the destroyed city ones (because Tyrant didn't care to rebuild the infrastructure).

Weapon: Machete, it never runs out of ammunition and has the strength to chop heads again and again and again...

Song: Pride (Freaking awesome song, and that video is just plain funny) by Soil.

Escape: Eventually, there will be an end to them. Everything dies on a long enough timeline.

Since "fighting them to the bitter end" isn't an option, the arctic is still dangerous as the environment can kill you, too. When the earth thaws in the summer months, too, you have to be constantly cautious of lurkers. Plus, food is as scarce for you as it is for the local fauna.

My recommendation is to seek the tropics, possibly the rain forests, and construct a society in the trees themselves (a la Robin Hood Prince of Thieves). The zombies won't be able to climb the trees and won't know enough to leave when we send the death squads down to eliminate them before a hunt. Hunting should be fine (Mm... Panther...) especially since the numbers of humanity will be massively reduced.

Until the constant threat of the hordes of Patient Zero are eliminated, farming will have to wait.

Real life has little to hold my interest the same way this game does.

I stated my reaction in Jello Shooters...

Essentially, you have teams at each of the disparate locations who help to make the banners vulnerable. Then EVERYBODY needs to head to EACH BANNER like children on a T-Ball team chasing a pop fly and stomp on it like it's a giant monster unto itself. While I can understand why (it forces all the players to get all of the badges in one go... in theory), with the twenty minute time limit for the whole event, and you can't even hit anything until it gets to 15 minutes, I must say that there is EXTREMELY little room for error.

While I think the concept is cool, the implementation needs a little leeway work. It takes time to coordinate players. Essentially, it's not going to be easy to get these badges on every single character a player may have.

Also, with the strain it places on the server, it's also not a guarantee that once you get the badges that you'll keep them. Last night we had a situation in Peregrine Island 2. We had JUST smashed the last of the banners when the mapserver crashed and *boop* ten minutes later, everything was reset to twenty minutes ago, and as if the event had never happened. All those badges we'd earned? Gone.

I was able to recover the lost badges shortly afterward, but suffice it to say, my appreciation is definitely soured.

Why can't the cool stuff work right when it's out of the box!?

I recommend roleplaying. Get into your characters' heads and see the world the way they do. Talk to other players as your character would.

Then sit there in the stunned silence as everybody looks at you like you're bat-scat insane.

I have to go to one of these someday.

Grey's Army has a new chapter (actually posted a couple days ago).

I don't like where this particular over-reaching arc has led, and I like where it's going even less. Sometimes I wish I'd heeded Kip's advice and just let Roland run far, run fast, and never look back.

"Relax, Roland, you look fine," his mother said softly as she straightened his collar, "In fact, you look downright handsome."

"Thanks, mom," the large young man replied in a low rumble, "I know I look alright, that's not what's bothering me. I just... I don't know how to behave at a function like this."

"Well, I've been to my share of banquets, and so long as you don't make a drunken buffoon of yourself, you should do fine. Tell a joke or two..."

Charlene's eyes widened for a moment, then she gave a narrow glare to her son.

"...Not your father's jokes!"

"Aw, ma, but he just got done hammering that 'Magician in the Bar' one in my head. Plus there's the 'Three Tough Mice' joke that James keeps repeating..."

"Don't tell them. Just don't."

Charlene pinched her son's cheek and smirked. She wasn't about to tell him how she was hoping the night would go.

"Perhaps your son will establish a relationship with the young lady," Sol'Ra whispered in the back of her mind, "He's a nice man. He deserves a nice young lady."

"While I agree, Sol," the young-bodied woman sighed, "I'm afraid he either feels he's not good enough for her or she's way out of his league. But, who knows? Strange things happen in this city."

Roland quirked an eyebrow at his mother. He'd figured it out a while ago that when her pupils got that white glow in them, she was discussing things with her Kheldian half. Sol'Ra usually let Charlene run her own life, but since Angel had been born, she'd gotten more "chatty."

"You two talking about me?" he asked.

"Of course," his mother chuckled, then abruptly changed the subject, "Oh! You need a tie!"

She rushed into the room she and her husband had been sharing since her rescue. Roland could hear the sound of drawers opening and closing as his mother frantically searched for something he could wear around his neck.

"There's a black bow tie in the bag there," he murmured as he motioned to the plastic the suit had come in.

"No, no, that won't suit you at all... AH! Here it is!"

Charlene returned with a bolo tie and held it up for her son to see in the light. On the golden face of it was a smiling skull. Despite the object's peculiar appearance, Roland could already tell it wasn't enchanted.

"You and your skulls, ma," he chuckled, "What is it with you and bones?"

"I just like them," she chirped and went to loop the tie over her son's head, "Okay, bend down a little... There! Now we tighten this here and... Done!"

"Well, that's a lot easier than having to tie it," Roland said as he looked down at it, "Let's see me in the mirror..."

It was certainly an odd appearance for a dress suit. Broad-brimmed hat, a thick cloak that hung over his shoulders and hugged him inside a cream-colored liner, and the suit was crisp despite his size.

"This had to have been very expensive," he said quietly, "And probably came from Carson. Sarah says he likes to make more... Exuberant outfits..."

"Well, I think it looks nice."

Charlene held her son by the shoulders and turned him so she could get a look at him. When she looked into his eyes, he saw tears that were barely being held back.

"I'm so proud of the young man you've become."

"Thank you," he gave her a hug, "Love ya, Mom."

"I love you, too, honey."

----------

No matter how many times it happened, he still wasn't comfortable in a limousine. It was such an unnecessary-seeming vehicle, like its only purpose was to show off how rich the occupant was. Or at least produce an illusion of wealth. Jessica patted his wrist and laughed lightly when he mentioned his concern.

"I still think I'd have preferred meeting you there," he said softly, "There are going to be cameras. The whole paparazzi thing is going to start up again."

"Oh, so what? You're a quiet guy. They'll get tired of you soon enough."

She gave his arm a hug and rested her head on his shoulder. He looked to her and felt a strange twinge in his chest. She sighed and for a moment, he was wishing the ride wouldn't end.

The camera flashes got him right in the eye as he exited the vehicle. Grumbling curses to himself under his breath, he helped Jessica out the door while she gave him a wry grin that was both admonishing and amused at the same time. Looping their arms together, they strode purposefully to the doors behind Back Alley Brawler and his wife.

Inside, the Sinclair Mansion was entirely different from how he remembered it. Before, the building's interior seemed to have just been filled with expensive stuff to show off Manticore's vast wealth. Now, it was filled with expensive stuff to cater to the guests. Men and women clad in tuxedos and dresses wandered about and looked in awe at the various doodads and goo-gaws, but Roland gave a cursory glance to the long silk scarves and tapestries placed about and hummed in appreciation.

"It looks nice," was all he said when Jessica looked to him.

"Justin can be a good man," she said, "He doesn't do anything without a purpose behind it."

"I guess he's trying to avoid a combative atmosphere this time," Grey pointed to the ornate staircase that curved to the upper balcony, "There used to be two suits of armor flanking those steps. Now it's a pair of 'oriental' vases filled with orchids."

"That's an interesting observation," a voice said warmly behind them, "You think there was some kind of intent behind the decor?"

They turned and regarded Manticore. No matter how many times he saw it, Roland still thought that seeing the man in a tuxedo or official suit while still wearing the red "maned" mask looked ridiculous. He couldn't just wear a red domino mask or something? Why did it matter if nobody recognized him when he was supposed to be a civilian?

"When you have the money for it, there's always intent behind the decor, Mister Sinclair," he said as he extended his hand to shake while Jessica, oddly, curtsied.

After a bit of a double take from the gentlemen, she laughed warmly. She straightened and folded her arms over her chest as she gave them an amused grin.

"I guess sometimes you need to prove those charm lessons your mother got you haven't gone to waste," Justin remarked, "I suppose the question is who you're trying to charm. You do remember I'm married, right?"

"Oh, God, Justin... I wouldn't dream of it."

"Then I suppose it was for your friend here..."

Roland growled in the back of his throat. This caused the other two to laugh uproariously. Well, it was uproarious for the setting.

"Easy there," Grey grunted, "You don't want to blow a gasket."

Manticore finished off his laughter lightly and clapped the young man on the shoulder. He took the two on a short tour of the banquet hall and the dance floor. Each room was illuminated by massive crystal chandeliers and everything was wrapped in white and gold silk. The plates were silver-rimmed, bright white ceramic and the silverware itself was actual silver. The tables were huge, stretching from one end of the fifty-foot-long dining room almost to the other, and made from finely polished mahogany.

The dance hall was surprisingly spartan. A large grand piano sat in the corner, and as Manticore showed it to them, Roland noted it had a plate on it that indicated it was made in 1890. He regarded the strange coloration of the keys and realized they were probably ivory. The wood was polished black walnut.

"After dinner, the band will set up in here and we'll be able to cut loose," Manticore continued as he guided them along, "They'll set up over there and I'll be at the piano."

"I didn't know you could play," Jessica almost gasped.

"You'd be surprised how relaxing it can be."

----------

The rest of the evening was like a blur. A slow blur. Roland followed Jessica quietly from group to group as she chatted with various heroes and heroines who had distinguished themselves in various ways throughout the city. Many stared at him. Some, mostly men but also some women, scowled. They tried to hide their contempt for this "nobody" at the side of the object of their desires, but their facial ticks, lowered tones and stuttered phrases easily betrayed their discontent.

"I don't like this," he murmured to Ms. Duncan as they approached a young man whose only trait revealing his capabilities as a hero was a metal right hand instead of a flesh one, "I can feel them burning holes into the back of my neck."

"If you would talk more, they could get to know you better. Hi Blue!"

"Jess-er..." the young man stopped himself but she gave him a sideways look and he smiled before grasping her hand with his flesh one and giving the back of it a light kiss and continuing, "Jessica."

"I see you and Bluette are enjoying yourselves."

"Well, she certainly appreciates how fancy everything is. She never thought for once she would get to see the inside of Manticore's mansion."

"Blue, this is Roland. Roland... Blue Battler and his... Friend, Blue Battlette."

"Hello," Roland reached out to shake his hand and the other hero reached to him with the metal one, "Pleased to meet you."

"The feeling's mutual," the hero replied with a strange note in his voice.

Sadness Roland thought. Not contempt, not regret. He's another who has feelings for Jessica, but he doesn't seem to be angry with me about her decision for tonight.

"Roland has been something of a confidant for a couple years now," she explained, "Somebody outside my normal purview who could help me get a new perspective on things. He had some trouble recently and I wanted to show him I'm here for him, too."

Something seemed off about how she said it. Roland nodded, but he looked slightly askance at her.

Is she lying? Why?

"What's your heroic identity?" the young woman next to Blue, "Blue Battlette" Ms. Liberty had called her, chirped at Roland suddenly, "Are you a tanker?"

"No. I don't have any powers. A buddy of mine makes arrows that do stuff and I basically bow hunt. No weird names, either. It's Roland. Just Roland."

"Really? Aren't you afraid of somebody coming after you?"

"It's my understanding that they find us even if we're wearing masks," Grey replied with a sigh, "I hate to think of how many people I've seen shot out of the sky with a Sapper."

"Oh my Lord, I hate those weapons..." Blue agrees, "And the Group that uses them..."

"I've heard of them," Jessica rubs her belly unconsciously, "I heard... I heard they made the weapon that those villains used to... To..."

Blue's fist glowed suddenly and a low growl escaped his throat. They all knew what she was talking about. They also knew how she'd spent weeks in a coma in the aftermath. Fortunately, the defeat of the Phalanx by the group of villains who perpetrated the crime didn't crush the heroic populace like Recluse had expected. It bolstered them, and a small army of caped crusaders were all too eager to help Statesman raid the Rogue Isles shortly afterward.

But she'd still been hurt. Roland had only seen her briefly during her recuperation, offering a gentle hug and a few heartfelt words. He wondered if she'd spoken with Blue Battler, too. He felt that twinge in his chest again and wondered why his skin suddenly felt like it was on fire.

"Come on," Blue almost shouted to break the sudden gloom permeating the conversation, "People are checking out the mansion. Bluette and I were about to see the garden. I hear Sister Psyche had it filled with fireflies."

----------

After a couple hours of general conversing and exploring the different aspects of the decorated mansion, Citadel announced that they would be holding the awards ceremony in the dining hall. The heroes filed in and started taking the seats they'd reserved before arriving.

With a start, Roland realized he didn't know where he would be sitting. Jessica seemed sure of herself, however, and led him to the far end of the room from the dance hall.

The head of the dining room was dominated by a large oak table. There were a large number of seats behind it, and Roland realized it was where the Phalanx and their guests would sit. What he failed to realize was that Jessica was leading him to it, too.

"Uh..." he whispered, "Are you sure I should be here? I think I'm supposed to sit somewhere else..."

Grinning, Jessica pointed to a card resting on a plate. One word was written on it in cursive: "Grey."

"That could be for Lady Grey..."

"Just sit down, you big goof," Ms. Liberty chuckled as she went to take her seat.

Remembering just in time, Roland pulled her seat out for her and helped her get situated before taking his own seat. A hand clapped his shoulder and he turned to look into the blue eyes of Marcus Cole who gave him an approving nod.

"And here I thought good manners were going extinct," the powerful man said quietly, "Have you been enjoying yourself tonight?"

"I feel quite a bit out of my element, sir," Grey replied evenly, "But, yes. It has been a pleasant night."

"Good, good..." Statesman leaned in close to his granddaughter and whispered something in her ear before taking his place at the center of the table.

Roland settled into his chair at the end of the table and tried not to look at the rest of the seated heroes and heroines. He could feel their stares and he didn't like it. They were trying to place him, figure out who he was and what he did to get a seat at the head table. His name wasn't in the paper, his face wasn't on the television.

It was a relief when the ceremony finally began. The floorboards creaked as a large man approached the center of the table where a podium had been erected and a trophy had been placed.

The speech about Apex and his accomplishments was recounted by the Back Alley Brawler. He talked about his time meeting the man who just seemed to naturally defy the standards and pushed through to excel, despite being a dimwit. That bit about being a dimwit was actually in the speech. It got a chuckle.

However, Apex's heart was always in the right place, and no matter what happened, he was there for his friends, the city, and justice. He had accomplished much since helping defeat Requiem and losing two of his earliest friends in his career. According to the Brawler, it was a shame he was being recognized so long afterward.

When the hero accepted the award, Roland didn't see a braggart or a buffoon like the audience had laughed about. Apex seemed slightly haunted. His eyes were misted with tears as the memory of what had happened to War Witch and Horus was recounted as a passing occurrence. He shook the Brawler's hand and the big man drew him in for a quick hug before handing him the award, which was a gold-framed crystal with a plaque declaring Hernando "Apex" Barrera a True Hero.

The man gave a simple speech afterward in which he thanked the Brawler for all of his help and the various heroes he'd worked with throughout his career. He thanked his fallen friends as well and explained that his memory of them and the wisdom they'd imparted was a further driving force behind his continuing adventures. He thanked the Phalanx for their support and he thanked the rest of the heroes who'd been invited to the prestigious event for their work at helping protect the city. In a rare stroke, he also thanked the heroes who weren't at the event, for whatever reason, and explained that his award was as much for them as it was him.

"We're all true heroes," he explained, "Our moments to shine just might not be as apparent as others. Thank you all, and I hope to meet you in the streets, protecting this city and its citizens from the horrors that foolishly think they can afflict them while we're around."

Roland applauded along with the rest of the heroes and heroines and he did it with enthusiasm. Apex was exactly the sort of hero Kipland had been talking about. He'd helped defend the city from the criminals plaguing it at the edge of public perception. He'd battled the worst the city could throw at a hero and almost nobody had known he was there.

If it weren't for the Brawler, he probably never would have received this award. He probably would have faded into complete and utter obscurity. Who would have known his story? Who would have cared?

"Who gives a damn about those of us on the frontier?" he asked aloud and Jessica turned back to him.

"What was that?" she asked before taking a sip of wine.

"Nothing, just musing about something Kip told me," he replied, "It's nice that one of the virtually unknowns is getting recognized. I'm glad he was so gracious about it."

"Apex has a good heart, a strong soul," Ms. Liberty sighed, "If he weren't so obsessed with his quest about that sword he has... I probably would have been his date tonight."

"You told me Mister White introduced you two."

"We had a good time, but he's still troubled by what happened to War Witch. I told him he could talk to her in Croatoa and Pocket D, but... He said it wasn't the same."

"I suppose it wouldn't be. So... What's being served?"

"A few different things. Roast beef, turkey, ham... I think there's a wonderful clam bisque and a Caesar's salad... You know, standard fare."

"I don't know what's standard fare for a banquet like this," Grey sighed then took a sip of his wine, "Hm."

Jessica patted his shoulder and gave him a warm smile. He smiled back and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. His chest twinged again. He knew what it was and he turned back to his empty plate to stop looking at her.

He had a bad feeling he was going to hate this night despite how in love he felt.

My PB and Warshade are essentially Human-Only because of one simple reason:

I feel the Dwarf and Nova forms are merely hamstrung versions of Tankers and Blasters, respectively. If I felt like playing as an NPC, I would roll up a Wolf Spider again and turn off the XP accrual at level 2.

Besides, with the "extra" powers you get as either form, while at the same time you're still getting powers that can only be used in human form, you have to divide your enhancement slots even more sparsely among powers that you may or may not be using. What the Hell is the point to getting any of those human powers when you'll just be switching between Nova and Dwarf and you can't even USE them!? I remember the days when Fitness didn't transfer into the Alternate Forms, and that was what sold it for me: [To Hell] with the Alternate Forms.

I know there are players out there who swear by Tri-Form, or even just one Alternate Form, but it all seems like such a waste to me. I don't bother with the alternate forms. They distract from powers that make my character versatile, powerful and shiny.

Is always up for a good time!

As much as the idea of having to defend my base from an AV makes me shudder, I can't help but admire the spunk behind the idea.

That's it. We need a 30-35 Strike Force for the Villains. Otherwise, it's a hideous grind for anybody trying to get through that stage and they wind up doing Newspaper Missions over and over again because the arcs are too few and too short. That, or they subject themselves to another player's NPC version of themselves with all the powers to make their character nigh-insurmountable as an "Arch Villain" in Architect Entertainment.

We possibly need a 10-15 one, too, but it's actually pretty quick to tear through those levels on Redside already. Sometimes I have trouble finishing Veluta Lunata's arc (which would have made an interesting Strike Force itself).

I got a few of my Redsiders to 33 and 34. I got a bunch of my Bluesiders to 35 and 36.

*sigh*

Redside needs a 30-35 SF. And don't tell me about the Respec Trial! When you're able to skip most of the fighting because a Stalker has Recall, THAT DOESN'T COUNT!

Thank goodness for the new "Exemped still get experience" system. If it had been the old way, I never would have teamed with anybody and I'd have just been grinding my Redsiders.

I have MANY Villains who need levels. I will try to be there for this, T. I intend to move my boys right along, get as many of them to 35 as I can (I'm already working on that right now) and then coast the rest of the way to 50 on each of them (Example: I need a little XP Boost... ITF! RTR! WHOO!).

They're all SO CLOSE!