RoseCross

Absolutely -incredible,- Doug. I only wish I was capable of creating art that amazing. I've played around a lot with Poser, but I'm not quite sure how I would even -begin- to transition from Poser to what you've got going.

*grin* Do you teach?

I agree with the Prof and Steele -- with one exception:

I think that running storylines that would qualify for M-rated or R-rated status are fine in the appropriate places -- as long as the people you're playing with realize that and understand that they need to act with maturity and common sense. Any time I sit down to run a storyline containing more mature themes, I explicitly ensure that all those involved are OK with things and I offer them a chance to bow out if they so desire.

And that same exception comes with a rule of its own: you should *know* the people you're RPing with. For example: With the Dawn Patrol, I know we have members who are under 18 in the group, so I tend to keep my RP rated at about a PG to PG-13 level unless I'm with members whom I *know* are over 18 AND are okay with a higher rating on their RP.

When I am with new people, regardless of age, I keep my RP decidedly PG rated, and more often than not, G.

A bit of an update for Marjorie: I've thought about how several elements of her backstory each seem to have a song related to them, and so, I've summed things up from Marjorie's point of view -- along with explanations as to why the songs were chosen. I'm going to try and get these ripped and posted to the Whitmoore GMail drive soon.

Login details for the Whitmoore GMail account are available to *anyone* on request.

-----

Rose (Marjorie) has quite a few depending on what part of her story you're reading.

At the beginning, when she gets thrown out of her hometown, Queen's Who Wants To Live Forever and The Show Must Go On are probably the most appropriate for her -- her feelings of rejection and perseverance despite that rejection.

At one point in her story, she turns herself into a mental health clinic to keep from hurting herself. The song Being Alive from the musical Company seems to fit her best at this point -- alone, scared, desperately needing someone to prove to her that she's human.

When the heroine Steele Magnolia comes to the hospital to get her out, the song Irish Tune from County Derry is appropriate - soft, tender, sweet, and a little melancholy. This is a wordless song - when it's sung, it's done by a choir simply on either "mm" or "ah." If you've never heard it before, it will sound suspiciously like the Irish ballad Danny Boy -- because the source music is the same. The lyrics to Danny Boy were added to the ancient song in the 1930s.

Marjorie is eventually released with Steele's help, and returns home to the Whitmoore Apartments building. She goes and assists with friends on a mission to save one of the other tenants in Eden. Upon arriving home, a party is held in honor of a fallen hero. At that party, she meets someone who is really quite special to her (Michael Helsinger, AKA 2020 Vision), and the two heroes go off to Platinum Lake to talk - and she begins to fall in love. The song If I Were a Bell from Guys and Dolls seems to fit best here - Marjorie is truly head-over-heels in love for Michael, and if ever there's a song about falling hard for someone, this is it.

After the "lakeside chat,", she learns of a plot to kidnap and corrupt another friend, Simone St. Croix, AKA Simon-Says. Simone is a mentat who Marjorie rescued at one point by daring to dive inside Simone's mind and communicating with her - a potentially very hazardous action for her, and Marjorie's empathic link is strong with her. Marjorie's protective instinct, previously somewhat repressed, begins to unlock itself, by way of her desire to rescue her friend and keep her newfound love from getting hurt, and Marjorie's full power begins to surface during the fight - at this point, the Tornado Song from the musical The Wiz is appropriate - Marjorie's power begins to fully mature and she begins to master her abilities, becoming a "tornado of power" that defends her friends at any cost.

Although Marjorie is unable to save Simone (Simone actually saves herself) the love between Marjorie and Michael begins to blossom - as Marjorie learns of Michael's "past" with the Council. Despite this, Marjorie reaffirms her love for him, and so, Queen's Someone To Love seems to fit best here - Marjorie has found in Michael a true love, and she hopes he feels the same way.

And this brings us to where we are currently, at least for Marjorie.

Marjorie has developed into an exceptionally complex character -- and so, one song doesn't really fit her cleanly anymore.

It's amazing how she's developed, storywise, since that day last November when I rolled her up as a little level 1 and ran her through Outbreak. I remember buying the game expecting to be thoroughly unimpressed -- because I had played EverQuest to level 24 with my cleric and had become entirely disillusioned with the game. I'm glad I did it.

Rose has grown and matured in more ways than I ever thought possible, and it's that incredible interaction that she's had that keeps me coming back.

I have set up a gmail account specifically for us to house copies of our theme songs. To use the share, pick up a copy of GMail drive (just Google it) and then PM me for the login & password.

(( All posts in this thread should be considered OOC ))

The themesong part of this was done way back in the Whitmoore Apartments thread and was originally spearheaded by Steele Magnolia (yay for Steele!!) -- and I know that the information is back there SOMEWHERE. I figured that rather than force people to sift through the nearly 5,000 posts to find those selected ones where we mention our character's origins, theme songs, and backstories, why not collect all the information and post it in one easy-to sift-through thread?

Also, many thanks to Yydr_ for starting the thread to collect the IC vitals on the individual players in the Whitmoore so that we know their basic details in-thread!

Yes, I know, many of us put links to our origin stories in our sigs -- as I do -- but many of us post them and let our sigs talk about other things, like alts or our current views on gameplay.

Anywho, here's the format, using the character I play most, Rose Cross:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Character Name: Rose Cross

Origin Story: The Rose Blooms

Theme Song(s): The Show Must Go On and Who Wants To Live Forever by Queen

Why those songs? The Show Must Go On I think represents Rose just after she's banished from her home town, at the very beginning of her career -- beaten, battered, and broken on the inside, but having to maintain that façade of "everything's going to be OK" when the real outcome is anything but clear. Who Wants to Live Forever represents her in the now -- questioning her own life, wondering if it's worth it to continue, feeling alone, and wondering if her life just hasn't been some sick joke all the time.

Backstory Posts: Post #2916334

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note that "backstory posts" are any posts you make in other RP threads that tell specific parts of your character's story that are not part of your Origin story, if there is one. Links to off-site boards are OK here too if they contribute to your character's story.

The "Why those songs" section is just intended to give us a glimpse into what you think that song means for that particular character. And by the way, "because I like that song" is a perfectly good answer, too.

I'm also going to try and figure out some way for us to collect and listen to each others' themesongs -- even if what I have to do is set up a gmail share to do it with.

I'd also like to encourage past participants of the Whitmoore to post their data here as well.

Oh, and in case you didn't know, here's how to make a link referencing a specific post:

<font class="small">Code:[/color]<hr /><pre>http://=http://boards.cityofheroes.c...&gt;]Link text</pre><hr />

Just cut and paste that code into your post and change &lt;postnumber&gt; to the number assigned to your post, and change "link text" to something appropriate. The &lt;postnumber&gt; is that number just underneath the subject line in your post and is next to the date and time of your post. It's in the same green color as links are, but it's not clickable. Note that when you click links like this, you'll go to the page where this post lies -- so the 10-post-per-page display method works best to quickly find the post you're wanting to see. You could also click the link, hit Ctrl-F on your keyboard, type the post number in to the search box, and hit find once you've clicked the link if you don't want to change your display options (I browse at 50 posts per page, so I do this).

Apartment: 1006
Name: Marjorie Rose Westrick (AKA Rose Cross)
Storyteller: RoseCross
Location: Currently at Paragon City Mental Hospital, Maximum-Security branch, Brickstown
Powerset: Mutation, Empathy/Energy/Power Mastery Defender

Description: Stands about 5'6, 125 lbs., auburn hair, blue eyes, unmistakable rose-colored aura when her powers are active. Average build physically (for a hero, anyway). Mentally very troubled and in deep depressive state. Forcibly removed from her parents at age 18, forced to live on her own, and has lived alone for the past six years, in everything from halfway houses to underneath Atlas' statue. See origin story for more background (link is in my sig).

Comments are welcome. Please post them in-thread or via PM.

Epilogue

Marjorie Rose Westrick would be quietly ferried to the bus station at Hampton Roads, VA. She would take a bus to Paragon City and register as a hero within days of reaching the city, under the name Rose Cross. Her days as a Junior Red Cross member would be the driving influence behind her name, along with her middle name. She is a successful empathic defender, with several recent accolades, including her Surgeon's badge (1,000,000 HP healed). Her powers have grown very strong thanks to her affiliation with the Council Elite supergroup and her skills as a healer are highly rated. Emotionally, she still reels from the night of the attack, and her nights are haunted by memories from that night in her cell.

Stephen Michael Westrick and Amanda Kennedy Westrick continue to live out their lives in Richland, VA. They long to see their daughter, but health issues keep the family from making the drive to Rhode Island. Their concern for their daughter's mental health is grave, but they are unsure of what to do and have thought it best to leave her alone as of recently rather than force her to confront her problems before she's ready to.

Karen Marie Plussman would receive word of Marjorie's molestation and eventual departure from Richland three days after Marjorie had departed Richland. She took it rather hard, and keeps in contact with Marjorie via e-mail frequently. Marjorie has confided much in Karen, and the two share a close friendship.

Bobby Russell "Buzz" Kensington would begin the process of applying to enter the U.S. Military after high school, but his full entry into the military would be halted when he suddenly developed powers of his own. One year after Marjorie left Richland, during a particularly ugly winter, Bobby, on leave for Christmas, singlehandedly stopped a truck from tipping over and causing a chain reaction accident on Highway 168 near the southern border of the state. Potentially dozens of lives were saved, but the city of Richland took much the same approach with Bobby as they had with Marjorie, albeit in a much quieter manner. Bobby withdrew his application for military service, moved to Los Angeles and registered as a hero under the name Stonewall. He is a successful invulnerability tanker in LA, his most recent exploit being having halted an incursion of Hellions into the city.

Kristin Randall resigned from her seat on the city council and would leave Richland shortly thereafter. Her current whereabouts and status are unknown.

Jack Milhall was expelled from the city council, and brought to trial for being an accessory to the kidnapping and sexual molestation of Marjorie. He was convicted in short order, and was sentenced to 35 years in prison with no hope of parole. He has also had federal charges brought against him regarding his use of a known terrorist cell to kidnap Marjorie. The outcome in the federal case is currently unknown, as the trial is still proceeding.

Sharon Davis, William Anderson, Kevin Maroney, and Dee Paulson all continue to be active members of the Richland city council.

Edward Williams quit the council and left the city under mysterious circumstances shortly after the news about Marjorie broke. His whereabouts are unknown at this time.

Dr. Richard Kernigan was unable to continue working at Richland General Hospital due to pressures from colleagues regarding his aiding Marjorie. He transferred to Norfolk, where he is enjoying a successful career in medical research. He periodically contacts Marjorie by e-mail to see how she is doing and to privately tutor her on medical questions she occasionally has.

Marcus Keller has fully recuperated and currently resides in Norfolk, VA and is very active as a superhero and metahuman supporter.

The Tango Chapter of the Human Preservation League was dispersed and most of its members jailed by a small FBSA task force that made a raid on the remote site approximately two days after Marjorie was rescued. Officially, the chapter no longer exists, but at least three known members of the chapter are believed to be on the run and operating with other anti-metahuman paramilitary groups in the United States.

Part X: Redemption

Hours passed since the beating had ended. Marjorie lay unconscious, beaten to the point where she was simply too weak to offer any resistance, at which point Riker had stopped. Riker figured that when his victims stopped offering resistance, they were no longer fun to play with, so he stopped. He left her, beaten and bleeding, on the cold stone floor. Fortunately for Marjorie, her powers kicked into overdrive as a self-defense mechanism once she lost consciousness, and her wounds healed rather quickly. Her body was enshrouded in a faint green halo, the bruises and cuts from the baton slowly mending themselves.

Stephen and Amanda had called Kristin and reported what happened. Kristin had figured that the HPL had arrived while they were at city hall and kidnapped Marjorie. She knew exactly who to blame. Walking up to the front door of the pretentiously large house in front of her, she pounded on the door. “Jack! Get your [censored] out here! You’ve got a hell of a lot of explaining to do!”

The door opened, and Jack put on his best game face. “Kristin, what an unexpected surprise. What do you mean, explaining? I don’t understand.”

Kristin stormed in and punched Jack square across the jaw, watching him tumble backwards onto the floor. “You pretentious *******, you know exactly what you were doing! Marjorie’s been kidnapped and I’m certain is in the hands of the Human Preservation League. Explain yourself! Why would you resort to contacting a terrorist group of all things to deal with Marjorie?”

“Terrorists? The HPL isn’t a bunch of terrorists, they’re simply looking out for all of humanity’s own safety,” said Jack, rubbing his jaw and picking himself up off the floor. “A punch to the face is hardly the way to make an entrance, Kristin. You should know that.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t bring the tire iron from my car in! You know what they do to people who are even suspected of being metahumans! Most of the people they ‘deal with’ are scarred permanently in some way for the rest of their lives!”

“I’m not one to judge their methods. They are quite effective,” sneered Jack. “Regardless, our problem has been dealt with. Marjorie is no longer a concern for the city of Richland, and best of all, we didn’t spend any money in the process.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing…how can you be so cruel?”

“It’s simple when you’re dealing with trash. You just discard it.”

Kristin lost all self-control. She punched him in the face again, leapt on top of him and continued punching him, until Jack’s wife came down the stairs, having heard the yelling, and saw what was going on. “What the…?! Get off of my husband!”

Kristin looked up at Jack’s wife, and then at Jack’s unconscious, bloodied form, and stood up. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill him. He deserves it for the fate he’s sent that poor girl to.” Jack’s wife looked completely lost at the statement as Kristin stormed out, lost in a haze of rage.

Kristin called the chairman of the city council and informed him of Jack’s continued meddling. The chairman called the police and made a missing person report, informing them that the victim had been kidnapped by the HPL, and that he wanted the girl found before anything further could happen to her.

Marjorie came to, her wounds mostly healed. She concentrated for a second, trying to make her powers come to again, in the hope that she might heal herself. Her entire body became enshrouded in a faint green aura, and her body pulsed as waves of energy came off of her, dimly lighting the room with a greenish tint. She felt a little better, some of the pain was gone, and she realized that her powers were truly beginning to take hold of her. They’d saved her. But at what cost? What would Riker do now when he came back to the room to find that she had healed herself? She found out that she would soon know the answer, as Riker’s face showed itself again in the observation slit in the door.

“Awake again, are we? Well, it looks like I’m going to have to truly break you in order to make it end.” Riker came in, that same look in his eye that she’d seen once before when he’d beaten her. “As I said, you are my personal plaything right now. It looks like physical damage won’t break your spirit because you can always heal that. No, that won’t do. I’m going to need something far more effective than mere cuts and bruises.” His eyes widened, and Marjorie felt cold. She’d not seen him look at her like this. “No, no, no. To break you, I’m going to have to do something that I only get to do once in a great while.”

Riker reveled in dishing out pain to metahumans. He’d done it before. As a special forces agent in the Gulf War, he’d personally “extracted” information from over three hundred captured POW’s, a fair number of them metahumans. Many of his victims left his care emotionally and sometimes physically scarred, and very few of them had been able to lead productive lives since. Most of them were committed to mental institutions, having degenerated into raving lunatics as a result of his sadistic tendencies. To him, the exquisite combination of pain and mental anguish was one he delighted in creating in someone, to watch their spirit dissolve before his eyes.

Riker grabbed Marjorie by the shoulders, and stared at her, eyes wild. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you?” he said, a nearly psychotic grin crossing his face. “I will defile you.”

Riker pushed Marjorie to the ground.

“No.”

He grabbed her shirt collar, and ripped her shirt from her.

“No.” She began to struggle.

He took out his knife, cut the belt holding her jeans, and began to pull at her jeans.

“NO.” She began to struggle harder against him.

He pulled the jeans away from her.

“NO!” She continued to struggle against him, as he fought to tear her underwear from her.

“NO!!!” She thrust her arms against his chest, trying to push him away, when the stresses of the moment unlocked something in her. Her eyes flashed a brilliant blue, and her arms and hands glowed blue as well. She screamed, and bolts of blue energy flew from her hands, hitting Riker squarely in the chest, and sending him crashing into the back wall, his head striking the cinderblock surface with a sickening crack. He slumped to the floor, a nasty blood stain skidding down the wall where his head hit the wall. He was probably dead. She stood up, put her jeans back on, rifled through Riker’s pockets to find a key, or a weapon, or something that she could use to help her escape. She managed to find his keys, and…a cell phone! The first thing she did was call 911.

“Chesapeake County emergency, please state your emergency.”

“Yes, I’ve been kidnapped and I need police here right away!”

“Kidnapped, miss? I’m getting your location from the phone you’re using as 30 miles west-southwest from Richland. Is that correct?”

“I don’t know, I’m locked in a room with no windows, so I don’t know where I am. Please, send help!”

“I’ve dispatched police and paramedics to your location. Are you hurt?”

“No. But I believe my kidnapper may be dead.”

“I understand, Miss. Stay on the line as long as you can.”

Marjorie talked with the woman on the other end of the line. Meanwhile, news floated back to Richland that Marjorie had been found, and police officers sped towards the location that the phone was sending. Kristin was riding in one of them, as well as Marjorie’s parents.

When they arrived at the building far in the middle of nowhere, the police instantly recognized it for what it was – a safe house for Human Preservation League members. Anti-superhero propaganda was plastered all over the cars parked outside. Police officers fitted themselves with body armor and began to storm the building. Most of the people inside were just workers, no armed soldiers. When they finally came upon Marjorie, dressed only in a bra and her jeans, she was seated next to Riker’s lifeless form. He was indeed dead. Marjorie was returned to her parents outside, and Kristin was standing next to them.

“Mom, Dad!” Marjorie screamed as she ran up to them, hugging them with all her might.

Stephen and Amanda were just happy to see their little girl again. Unfortunately, the moment of relief and happiness that all was well would not last long.

Kristin walked up to Marjorie and introduced herself. “I’m sorry to have to say this, Marjorie. This hurts me terribly to have to do this. I know what you’ve just experienced, but…the city council has ordered that you leave Richland. You’re going to have to leave everything behind and start a new life somewhere else.”

Everything came crashing down.

Marjorie’s spirit, beaten, battered, and very nearly violated, broke.

She collapsed to her knees.

Kristin couldn’t bear to watch it any more. She turned away from the scene, and began to walk towards the police cruiser she’d arrived in. “Take me back to Richland. I have something I have to do.” The cruiser took her back to the city, and she wrote a short note and stuck it in the council chairman’s mailbox.

“I resign from the council. I cannot tolerate the insensitivity and reckless lack of respect that bleeds from everyone here. Do not expect me to be at the meeting on Wednesday.”

Kristin got in her car, and drove. To where, nobody knows.

Marjorie, on the other hand, was taken back to Richland, and her last four days in town were uneventful. She told Dr. Kernigan of her intention to go to Paragon City and start her life there, and he gave her a small piece of technology he’d helped design with some of his friends from the military. It tapped into the Medicom network used by the hospitals in Paragon City to keep close tabs on heroes, and she could easily watch the health levels of her friends. On Thursday she was driven by the Virginia National Guard to the bus station in Hampton Roads, where she made the decision to take her travel voucher and travel to Paragon City. Maybe there, someone with her abilities could find work.

Three days after arriving in Paragon, she registered herself as a hero under the name Rose Cross, a play on her middle name and the Red Cross. Maybe her new life would be better than her old one, but the unfortunate side was that the damage had been done. The psychological scars would likely never heal, the realities of having so nearly been violated in the worst way possible would weigh on her, and her personality had been forever warped.

Rose was now her name. She was beaten, battered, bruised, and broken, but she persevered…somehow.

-- THE END. --

Part IX: Punished

Geoffrey Riker was the commander-in-chief of the Tango chapter of the Human Preservation League, and had been preparing for a moment like this for some time. He hated metahumans, and now was a perfect opportunity to break one. Finish one off. Cleanse it from the world. He saw it as a perfect opportunity to begin eliminating the blight that metas created on the world.

People began to file into the hall and take their seats. After everyone was seated, Riker stepped behind the podium, his shotgun slung across his back. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight is our night of triumph! Our chance to begin cleansing the world of the cancer that is the metahuman race can begin in earnest tonight! We have been notified of a young one who is in Richland. Their city council has ordered that she be removed from the town, and they have called in our group to enact that punishment. I will take six of my best men with me on this operation this evening, we shall return with her, and we will find out more about her kind. Tonight, we are victorious!” Riker pointed at six of the other men in the front row, and motioned for them to come with him. The room erupted in cheers, as the men stood up and walked toward a small supply room.

As the seven men entered the next room, the cheers, hoots, and hollers from the other room still audible as the heavy steel door closed behind them, one of them asked, “So what’s the op?”

Riker didn’t even break stride. “We’ve got a beauty. She’s a girl in Richland who’s supposedly developed healing powers. She may be able to heal herself, so we need to be careful, but we essentially have orders to get rid of her in any way we can. I don’t want her killed, though.”

“What are we to do if we find her?”

“Detain her until I arrive. I will handle her personally. We will receive details from our contact inside Richland en route.” The other men nodded, and finished changing into their gear, and piled into a large van. The van pulled out of the parking lot, and sped down the highway towards Richland.

Hours passed. Kristin and her colleagues called contacts, trying to round up enough people to help Marjorie escape town without being hurt. Not much help came, however, so Kristin decided to go to the source. A knock came at the front door of the Westrick home. Kristin stood outside, shivering in the cold. Stephen came to the front door, grabbed his shotgun, and flung open the door.

“What do you want?” shouted Stephen, pointing the muzzle of the gun straight at Kristin’s face.

Kristin threw up her hands and said, “Whoa, whoa. I’m here to help. I came to warn you!”

“Warn us of what?!” shouted Stephen, bothered by the woman’s apparent sense of urgency.

“You need to get your daughter out of here, now!”

“Why? What’s going to happen to her?”

“Just trust me! I can help get you out of town! I’m with the city council and we can get some things done!”

“Look, nobody’s touching my daughter! Not you or anyone else! Now get out of here before I blow your head off!”

“I’m serious, Mr. Westrick! I want to help! I don’t want to see Marjorie or anything! I just want to make sure she gets out of town safely! Don’t misunderstand me!”

Stephen grumbled. She didn’t seem to be lying, her tone of voice seemed to at least say that much. Stephen just couldn’t get past the fact that everyone seemed to want a piece of Marjorie now. The door opened and Kristin stepped in.

“Thank you, Mr. Westrick. Rest assured that I am seeking Marjorie’s safety – I don’t want her to get hurt. I have come to warn you that one of my fellow council members has made a rather rash decision. He has called the Human Preservation League, and they are most likely on their way here now. You have to get Marjorie out of here. If you will come with me back to city hall we can make final arrangements to get her safely out. I have made several phone calls to individuals who can help us, but we need to do this now.”

“I need to talk to my wife about this. I’m not so sure.”

“Fine, but we need to hurry, before something terrible happens.”

“Go back to city hall. One of us will be there later.”

“I understand. I hope to see you in short order, Mr. Westrick.”

Kristin left, and Stephen turned to the kitchen, where his wife was sitting at the kitchen table, her face buried in her hands. “What are we going to do, honey?” asked Amanda, her face flushed and the worries of the day clearly getting to her. Stephen now understood why Kristin seemed so urgent. The Human Preservation League was not known for its use of judicious care in dealing with metahumans, as had been evidenced by gruesome reports of their activities in major cities all over the world. They preyed mostly on young superheroes, those whose powers hadn’t had a chance to fully develop or become hazardous to others. The United States government actually considered them a terrorist organization, and people displaying the HPL banner or insignia were frequently arrested on sight. Some towns and cities, however, harbored chapters of the HPL, and actively worked to keep them from being discovered.

“I think we need to take Kristin’s offer. It may be the only way to save Marjorie. We should go.” Amanda nodded, and they climbed in their car, and drove toward the city hall building.

About an hour had passed since Marjorie’s parents had left for the city hall building, and Marjorie was asleep upstairs in her room, when a clattering noise outside woke her. She was paranoid enough as it was with everything that was going on, she didn’t need pranksters running around outside the house. She looked out her window to see what was going on, and suddenly, a small black smoking object came flying through the window, clattering to the floor behind her. Gas came spraying out of it, and within moments, Marjorie was out cold. Two men came through the broken window, picked her up and dragged her out of the house, and threw Marjorie’s unconscious body into a van parked out in front of the house.

Stephen and Amanda were trying to figure out just what the city council was offering them. The chairman turned to Stephen and said, “Look, Mr. Westrick, we just want her out of the city. She’s a hazard to herself and others. We are prepared to help her get on her way. We have already spoken with the high school, she will be considered a graduate on Monday, and you will receive a diploma for her. Her enrollment at Richland Medical has been cancelled and prospects set up for her at other hospitals in major cities. If she decides to go elsewhere, she can go almost anywhere and begin an internship.” The chairman displayed an envelope sitting on the table. “This envelope holds $1,500 in twenties. She can use this money however she sees fit. We have arranged to have her transported to the Greyhound station in Hampton Roads, and a voucher has been secured for her to take a one-way trip to any city in the country, and Richland will foot the bill. Her safety in leaving is our utmost concern at this point.”

“I don’t know, this seems very troubling,” said Amanda. “Why should we take this money and just let her run?”

“It’s in her best interest to run,” said Kristin, “because if the HPL is coming for her, she’s in real danger.”

The chairman spoke up again. “She needs to leave the city. If she doesn’t, I’m not sure what may happen. I can’t stress this point enough.”

“Fine,” said Stephen, sounding defeated. “We’ll get her out. Just give us a few days for us to gather her things together and we’ll get her out.”

“Good. You’ll have 96 hours to move her starting at noon on Monday. She needs to be out of town by noon on Thursday.” Stephen and Amanda looked at each other, equally worried about the fate of their daughter, and

Marjorie woke up in a small, darkened room, and she was bound and gagged. She looked around, and couldn’t see any windows. Just a single, weak light bulb hanging from a small wire in the ceiling. Her mind raced, struggling against the stupor of whatever they’d used to knock her out. What was going to happen to her? She struggled against her bonds, unable to release her hands. She started to squirm her way towards the wall to try to get herself to sit up, when the door burst open. “Ah, I see our guest has awakened.”

Riker strode over to Marjorie, her eyes wide with fear. “Yes…you’re wondering what’s going to happen to you, right? Well, I’ve got a little surprise for you, kid. You’re going to wish you were never born. You’re going to tell me all about how you came to be, and where I can find more of your pathetic little friends!” Marjorie got a look of confusion in her eyes, almost as though this were some parody of a bad World War II movie. Regardless, it didn’t change the imposing man’s attitude. He pulled out a knife and cut Marjorie’s gag free. She coughed. “Now. I want your name, first. Your real name.”

“Marjorie…Marjorie Westrick.”

“Good. Cooperate and we’ll get along just fine, Marjorie. Now, your hero name.”

“My what?”

“Your hero name. Your pseudonym that your kind uses to fool the world into thinking you’re a benefactor!”

“I don’t have a hero name! I’ve never had a hero name!”

“Now, Marjorie, do you truly expect me to believe that? Where’s your FBSA identification card?”

“My what?”

Riker glared, and slapped Marjorie across the face. “Do not try to mislead me, girl!”

“I’m not!” Marjorie said, her face still turned to the side. “You probably took all my things, didn’t you search them for this card you want?”

“Hmm…Maybe you speak truth. Then fine. If you aren’t a registered superhero, how do you explain your powers?”

“I don’t know! I just have them!”

Riker stood up. “I will have my way with you, Marjorie. Do not continue to try to mislead me, because I will eventually get what I want.” Riker stood up and walked out of the room, and another man came in.

“Turn over!” he shouted. Marjorie turned onto her back. The man pulled out a knife, and cut the bonds around Marjorie’s arms. He grabbed her shoulder and flipped her over, and he pulled out a hypodermic needle. “Give me your arm!” She did as she was asked. She only hoped that whatever it was she was going to be injected with wasn’t poison. She caught a glance at the needle, and it was empty. The man swabbed her arm and tapped her arm, trying to get veins to rise. He jabbed her arm with the needle, and drew about an ounce of blood. He cut the bonds around her feet, and then promptly left the room, closing and locking the door behind him. Marjorie stood up and rubbed her hands, then sat back down, back to the wall.

Stephen and Amanda returned home to find the house still dark. Walking up to the door, they noticed something seemed amiss. Stephen opened the door, and immediately went upstairs to look for Marjorie, in the hopes that they could get her out of Richland in time. Stephen found only the spent gas grenade in amongst the shards of broken glass and the now-broken window jamb. “Amanda, she’s gone!”

Monday came, and Marjorie barely managed to drag herself awake. Riker came in, and Marjorie, bleary-eyed, looked at him. “Welcome back to the real world, Marjorie.”

“What is it you want from me?” Marjorie asked, still groggy.

Riker laughed. “We have learned all we can about you, Marjorie. Now you are ours to play with.”

The words “play with” rung in her head. Her pulse quickened, and fear began to set in again. “Learned what?” asked Marjorie, hoping to stall him.

“Your powers. Your…freakish changes.”

“What do you intend to do to me??” Marjorie’s voice was becoming increasingly unstable.

“Nothing that you won’t remember for the remainder of your miserable existence on this planet. You see, to us, you are nothing but human detritus. Your so-called ‘advanced abilities’ are offensive to us, whatever their nature. Your kind are a cancer on the world, and we intend to cut it out!”

“My kind?!” she said, now confused as well as afraid.

“Yes, Marjorie…don’t you see? You mutants are all alike! Everything about you is an affront to everything God has created!” Riker became increasingly fervent. “As I said…we will have our way with you, then we will discard you like the trash you are.”

Riker pulled out a small flexible baton, and Marjorie tried to back away, but the walls were her worst enemy at this point. The door slammed, and Riker began to whip her senseless with the baton, a spark of pure evil glinting in his eyes, and cackling madly the whole way. The screams could be heard through the entire building.

Part VIII: Sentenced

Several days had passed, and Marjorie was still in her hospital bed. Dr. Kernigan had called in his favors, and they were going to try the treatment he’d suggested. The hope was that whatever trick they were going to try was going to work. Kernigan had a couple of friends who had gone from college to high-ranking military engineering and research positions, and he had pulled several strings to get this to work. An experimental field medibot was going to be tested on Marjorie to help ensure its viability, and also help get her out of town quicker.

“Marjorie, we’re ready.” She nodded, and a few orderlies came in and began to wheel her bed out towards the operating room. Inside, a large, imposing-looking robot had been placed in the O.R., and Marjorie was wheeled up near to it.

“What is that thing?” asked Marjorie, a little uneasy over the size of the thing.

“This is the MH-01,” said Dr. Kernigan, “an experimental field medical robot. It’s been tested on humans before and works wonders, but it’s never been tested on a metahuman, at least in the sense of having tangible results. Anecdotal evidence suggests that the robot works as designed, but since the only tests on metahumans all happened in the field, we don’t really have any hard evidence.”

“So this thing is going to revitalize me?” asked Marjorie, her fears definitely piqued at this point.

“Yes. After healing up you should be ready for discharge in a matter of hours. Now, hold still.” Dr. Kernigan flipped a switch on the robot and several lights came to life. A red light passed over Marjorie’s body.

“Multiple contusions, two broken ribs, minimal organ damage, bruised disc in spine, cuts and lacerations. Subject is metahuman. Prognosis good,” stated the robot in a metallic, cold voice. “Begin treatment?” it asked.

“Yes,” said Dr. Kernigan. A series of lasers began to pass over Marjorie’s body, moving and resetting bones, fusing them together, repairing tissue damage, and generally getting things done, but not without serious pain to Marjorie. She gritted her teeth as the two broken ribs were moved underneath her skin and fused back into place, and the damage to the bruised disc in her spine was healed. It was like biting back the pain from being stabbed.

After a few moments of work, the robot echoed, “Treatment complete. Recovery estimation time is 3 hours, 40 minutes.”

“How do you feel, Marjorie?” asked Dr. Kernigan.

“Sore. That thing hurts. I don’t know what it did, but it feels like the damage is gone. My chest hurts, but I assume that’s because of the bones moving. My back doesn’t feel numb anymore.”

“Good. Then in a few hours you’ll be back to full health and we can get you safely and quietly out of here.”

Unfortunately, quiet wasn’t what the city council had planned. The local newspaper had caught wind of Marjorie’s abilities, and was now running a full-page cover story on her. At home, the phone was ringing off the hook.

“Honey, the phone’s ringing again!” shouted Amanda Westrick, having just put the phone back into its cradle to stave off another nosy neighbor. “What do you want me to do?”

“Rip the cord out of the wall. I’m tired of hearing it!” shouted Stephen Westrick, the sound of the ringer grating on his ears. Amanda did so, and the phone stopped. He knew that eventually, people would come knocking on his door, and as if life wasn’t difficult enough watching his daughter go through this, now he would have to shield his wife from prying eyes and overzealous neighbors. He despised the idea that just because his daughter was different, she was somehow deserving of this.

Marjorie had recuperated fully and was now being ferried home by Dr. Kernigan. As their car pulled up to her house, the front door swung open and her father was standing in the door, brandishing a shotgun. As soon as he saw Marjorie in the car, however, he quickly hid the weapon, and a look of relief spread across his face. Marjorie climbed out of the car, still sore from the treatment she’d received. She thanked Dr. Kernigan and he quickly drove away from the house. Marjorie hurried inside and hugged her dad, tears streaming down her face. Her father simply returned the favor, saying, “It’s okay…it’s going to be okay.”

Meanwhile, the city council would be receiving an unexpected visitor at their next meeting. Marcus Keller, the man who’d received the gunshot wound and been healed by Marjorie the week before, was driving towards the council hall, knowing that he would likely be forcibly removed from the hall when he burst in on what were supposed to be private proceedings.

Inside the hall, the council was discussing Marjorie’s impending fate. “We must allow her to fully recuperate and then we will have her leave! I do not want this city to be liable for her injuries if we make her leave now!” shouted the chairman, angry that someone on the council had chosen to act under the auspices of the council and done exactly the opposite of what he’d been told to do.

Kristen stood up and looked angrily at Jack, who had a smirk on his face. “Jack, I know you’re responsible for this mess. Admit it. We all want her out, but you can’t treat her as trash! I won’t allow you to do it! Not only does it reflect extremely poorly on us as a city, it makes us financially liable!”

Jack simply smiled back at Kristin, leaned back in his chair, and said, “I didn’t explicitly order anything to happen, Kristin. I simply told them that this was the situation and that if they wanted a different outcome they needed to act.”

“You *******, what the hell did you think was going to happen?” shouted Kristin. “You’ve effectively called in a firing squad for her! The least that brute squad is going to do is push her out of town! In her condition, they’ll likely kill her!”

If looks could kill, Jack would be a bullet-ridden corpse. Paul Parsons, a council member who until this point had been relatively quiet, stood up and said, “Kristin, please take your seat. I know that Jack has overstepped his bounds but screaming at him isn’t going to change what he’s done. I believe we need to take action now, for both our safety and hers. I will contact the hospital now to find out her condition. My suggestion is that if she still needs recuperative time we move her north to the hospital in Norfolk. She’ll get better care there anyway.”

Kristin collected herself, shot an angry glare at Jack, and sat down. “Fine,” she said, looking at the other seven members of the council. This wasn’t the outcome I had in mind, but maybe it’ll work out anyway.”

Paul sat back down, and the chairman spoke up. “Paul, make your calls. Jack, you are to remain silent until such time as we say you may interact with this matter again. Another incursion such as this and you will be off this council permanently. Sharon, William, Kevin, Dee, and Kristin, you pull some strings to try and keep Jack’s little mistake from happening too soon. Hopefully we can get her moved before they show up. This meeting is adjourned.”

Just as the chairman was about to bang his gavel, the doors to the council hall burst open and Marcus ran in. “What is this?!” shouted the chairman. “These are supposed to be private proceedings! State your business!”

“I’m here regarding Ms. Westrick!” shouted Marcus, fully knowing what he was about to do. “You need to give her a chance! You can’t just rip her away from her family!”

“Sir, I don’t know who you are,” said the chairman, “but we have considered Ms. Westrick’s personal safety in our final decision. She will be well-cared for.”

“What about her parents?” screamed Marcus. “What are you going to do with them?”

“They are going to be permitted to remain here. They are hard-working citizens, and Marjorie is much more mobile than her parents are.”

“So you’re just going to cast her out on her rear and expect her to make a living for herself? What kind of human beings are you?” Marcus was becoming more and more irate with each passing moment.

Jack stood up, pressing a small button underneath the lip of his part of the desk. “Listen, pal. If you don’t leave this hall immediately, I’m going to have the police escort you out and you won’t like what happens to you!”

“Jack, sit down!” shouted the chairman. Turning to Marcus, the chairman said, “Sir, rest assured that Ms. Westrick will be well-cared for in her departure from Richland. She will have very little to worry about.”

Police officers came in and grabbed Marcus, startling him as they dragged him out of the hall. “What the…?! Is this how you treat others who have a legitimate voice?! You’re all a bunch of racist bigots, you hear me?! You’re just as bad as the Fifth Column!” Jack simply smirked as Marcus was dragged out.

Kristin hung her head. Marcus was right, after all. The council was no better than a bunch of racists, blinded by their fear and hate. Unfortunately, nothing could be done now.

The meeting adjourned quietly, and Jack returned to his office. Pulling out his cell phone, he punched in a string of numbers. “Yes, this is Jack. I need to speak with the chapter president.”

A pause. “Hello, it’s Jack. We need to act now. Their timetable has been sped up.”

“What do we need to do?” asked the man on the other end of the line.

“Get your boys and get down here. I’ll fill you in when you arrive in town.”

At a small building out on the far outskirts of Chesapeake county, near the southern state line, cars began to assemble. Bumper stickers reading things like “Earth for Humans”, “Supers Suck”, and worse were stuck on the backs of the cars, but all of them carried one sticker in common – a small, red circle with the emblem of a broken strand of DNA in its center, and around the emblem, the words “Humanity Preservation League.” Inside the building, a man dressed in combat fatigues prepared his speech.

People began to file in. He grabbed a 12-gauge shotgun and began to walk out to the main hall. “Time to rouse the troops,” he said, with a sickening grin.

Part VII: Convicted

Marjorie had fallen asleep in her hospital bed, and awakened much later that evening. Her face still hurt. She wondered how bad the damage was. A nurse was standing over her, doing a few checks of the monitoring equipment attached to her. “Looks like our little angel has awakened. I’ll go fetch Dr. Kernigan, he wanted to see you once you woke up.” Marjorie felt even worse. What could she say to him? What was he going to say to her?

“Marjorie. Good to see you’re awake,” Dr. Kernigan said as he walked into the room. “Hope you’re healing nicely.” Dr. Kernigan took a look at her – the damage hadn’t healed much. “Maybe now would be a good time to talk about your…talent.” Marjorie was barely able to think through the pain, let alone talk. “Nurse, please leave us.” The nurse turned on her heels and left the room, closing the door. “Can you speak?”

Marjorie tried to open her mouth, but the damage to her jaw was so great that she couldn’t force it open more than a few millimeters. She muttered through her teeth, “Not really. I can’t really open my jaw.” Her face hurt so badly she thought she might pass out. “What kind of damage did I suffer?”

“Well, I can understand you just fine, Marjorie. Aside from the cuts and bruises, you’ve got a few broken ribs, a broken nose, and a slight fracture on your upper arm. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse, considering how many blows you took.”

“How long will it take to heal?”

“Under normal circumstances, probably about six weeks. In your case…I have no idea. Anyway, let’s get this figured out. Why don’t you heal yourself like you did the man before?”

“I don’t know, Doctor. I barely understand what happened Friday afternoon, let alone what’s going on with me. What do you think is going to happen to me?”

“I don’t know, Marjorie. I honestly don’t know. But if you really are beginning to manifest extraordinary powers I doubt you’ll be allowed to stay here long. That’s why what I have to say is important. I need a blood sample, Marjorie. I want to run a few tests.”

Marjorie wondered what giving a sample of her blood to Dr. Kernigan might do. He could turn around and use whatever evidence he finds against her, or he could simply inform her of the results and walk away. She wasn’t sure what to do, but Dr. Kernigan seemed like someone she could trust…for now. “Okay, Doctor. Take a sample. But be gentle, I’m still sore.”

Dr. Kernigan nodded and went to find a blood work kit. He took a small sample of Marjorie’s blood, and then said, “I’ll let you know what I find. It might give you some answers.”

Hours passed, and no word from the doctor. Marjorie laid in her bed, worrying about what they were going to do to her. What was going to happen? She decided that sleep was probably the best thing for her at the moment, superhero or not. As she pulled the covers back over her, a man came into view outside her room, watching. His shirt, bloodstained and dirty, had the mark of a bullet hole on its middle left side, right over the left lung.

The next morning, Marjorie awoke to find that much of the pain on her face had gone, but her jaw was still tender and difficult to open. Maybe she did heal faster than she thought she could. She tried to sit up and found it difficult. A nurse walked in and saw her struggling to sit up and said, “No, no! You’ll aggravate the wound!”

“What wound? What else was hurt?”

“Your broken ribs! You sit up now, and you run the risk of puncturing a lung with the shards of your ribs!”

Marjorie sighed and leaned back in the bed again. She grabbed the bed console and lifted the back up so she could see the television in her room a little easier, and flipped the TV on. The local news wasn’t carrying anything particularly interesting, except the exploits of a few popular heroes along Interstate 66 near Hampton Roads. She could tell that some people outside were watching the news as well, because angry grumbles were clearly being directed towards the television.

“Heroes. Hmph! Just what do we need those costumed monkeys for anyway?”

“I dunno, Ed. Apparently, someone finds ‘em useful.”

“I think the world would be better off without ‘em, if ya ask me!”

“Yeah, I agree. But what are we gonna do when we’re in the minority?”

“I don’t know, Billy. All we can do is keep our city clean.”

Marjorie shuddered. If she really was a super-powered girl, she’d have to beat feet out of town, and quick.

Later that day, Dr. Kernigan came in. “I’ve got the results of your blood tests, Marjorie, and…I don’t think you’re going to like what I’m about to tell you.”

“What is it, doctor?” asked Marjorie, fully expecting the worst.

“There are some genetic mutations going on inside you that are producing the effects you’ve been experiencing. I’m pretty sure it’s what’s giving you your healing power. Your chromosomes are extended – you’ve got 36 pairs of chromosomes, and I think it’s the extra ones that define your abilities. It would also appear that there are some strands of DNA that are inactive in your system, almost like they’re dormant – waiting to be awakened. It could be that your power is only beginning to surface. Regardless, we have to find a way to get you out of here.”

Marjorie groaned. That was it. Her fate was sealed. She’d be forced out of the town, and her life would be over. What was she going to do? She looked over her injuries. She was healing only slightly faster than a normal person, but not nearly as fast as she could heal others. “What about my injuries?”

“Can’t you heal yourself?” asked Dr. Kernigan.

Marjorie shrugged. She concentrated, trying to find a way to redirect her power onto herself. Her hands glowed green for a moment, but as she put them to her chest the glow subsided. “Looks like that’s a no,” she said, dejectedly.

“Hmm,” muttered Dr. Kernigan as he thought about it. “How well can you move?”

Marjorie strained herself to try and sit up. The broken ribs became readily apparent as she yelped in pain, and slumped back down onto the bed. Dr. Kernigan shook his head in confusion. “I don’t know either, Doctor,” said Marjorie, weakly.

“Well, there is one thing we can try. It’s experimental, and at this point it’s only been available to military personnel. I have some contacts who might be able to help. It’s a thing called a medi-bot. Apparently Crey Industries designed it about three years ago, with your father’s help. It might be able to heal you quickly enough that we can get you out of here before some nut kills you. I’ll make some phone calls. You sit tight.” Dr. Kernigan turned and walked back toward his office.

Meanwhile, the city council began to take action. Kristen sat in her chair, glancing over a report that had been given her by the county medical examiner. “My proposal is simple, gentlemen. After some intensive investigation, I’ve found that Miss Westrick is what some in the superhero business call a ‘first-generation’ mutant. The genetic material that causes her powers to become evident has only manifested itself fully in her – it is present in her parents, but only in a skeletal form. It’s incomplete. Their daughter is the first of the family line to have the potential to exhibit advanced abilities, and she does indeed have said abilities.”

“What do you mean, her parents are somehow innocent of all this?” grumbled Jack. He was still angry over the chairman having chastised him before.

“Yes, they are, Jack. They may be responsible for giving her the genetic template, but they didn’t fill it out. Some external stimulus has to trigger these things. For all we know, it could have been the panic of knowing that the man on the operating table was going to die that day. However, I do have a solution, gentlemen.”

“This had better be good, Kristen,” said Jack, looking for a hole in her argument so that he could either order the whole family killed or ship the lot of them off to some isolated island in the South Pacific. Jack’s hatred of superheroes and super-powered individuals knew no bounds, and tonight, it was particularly obvious.

“Marjorie, the daughter, was set to graduate from high school this January, but there’s some paperwork holding her up. That we can get expedited. I’m not in favor of merely tossing her out with no hope of survival. We would be doing ourselves a terrible disservice with such actions. As for her parents, they are not in any position to leave. Her father has a good job with Crey, and the Crey empire tends to frown on governmental intrusions into its workers’ lives. Her mother is also the main bus coordinator for the school board, and she’s been doing it for 22 years. I suggest we leave the father and mother alone, not just because they’re innocent, but because doing anything to their livelihoods may affect our own city in some adverse ways, especially with Crey involved.”

Jack bristled at the comments he was hearing. Kristen was actually proposing letting the girl’s family stay! In his mind, they were just as guilty of this as the girl. Superheroes and their lot were a pox on the world – they had brought everything from evil gangsters to aliens to the Earth, in his mind, and they were responsible. Regardless, he tried to keep listening, hoping for some hole in the argument that he could exploit.

“The solution is as follows: We give Marjorie ten days to gather her possessions and prepare to move. Her parents stay. No other immediate family resides in the area, so her parents are the only family here to consider. She leaves town under cover of night, that way she can make a discreet exit. The city will also cover her travel expenses to another place of residence far from us, as well as find her a place to stay in the city of her choice – outside the state of Virginia.”

Jack saw his chance. “You truly think this is the right way to handle it?” barked Jack, hoping Kristen would give him a fight so he could break her spirit as well. “I’ll give her time to pack her things – 36 hours. She leaves with the 135th Infantry from Fort Myers escorting her. She’s escorted to the county line, and then she’s left to her own devices. Any property she had in town becomes immediately forfeit and is auctioned off to pay any outstanding debts she had. Any excess money goes to the city.”

The chairman’s ire became apparent. “Jack, you overstep your bounds! You do not have the right to control her property! Now, as for you, Kristen, I like your idea, but I agree with Jack that it is too lenient. We will give her four days. That should be enough time for her to pack and prepare a trip to find a new home. Her property is hers, regardless of its origin. She will retain her property. She will be escorted out of town by a small armed segment of the Virginia National Guard, driven to the bus station in Hampton Roads, and then left. The city will give her a $1,500 stipend to pay for bus fare, lodging, and food for about the first month, no more. We will not help her find a new home. A public restraining order will be issued on her and she will not be allowed to come within ten miles of the county line. That is how we will handle things, and that is the decision of this council!” The chairman banged his gavel, and it became apparent to everyone that the decision was final. “Where is Ms. Westrick now?” asked the chairman.

“She’s in the hospital, recuperating from a beating she was given at school,” said Kristen, hoping the chairman would at least allow her to recover before he threw her out.

“What is her estimated time to recovery?”

“Minimum four weeks, Chairman. She suffered numerous cuts and bruises, several broken ribs, a broken nose, and an impact fracture on her upper arm. The doctors are doing everything they can for her.”

“We will allow her to heal fully. We will not be held responsible for aggravating her condition. If we force her to leave in the condition she’s in now we become liable for her safety, and I do not wish to be in that mess. That is final.”

Jack just glared at Kristen, irritated that he was pinned down.

-- Two more to go. --

Part VI: Tried

A weekend came and went, and Monday came with Marjorie hoping for the possibility that the incident at the hospital went relatively unnoticed. The fact that she had mentally blacked out during the period where she healed the man didn’t help, but there were a few bits and pieces she could now remember. A few moments before her memory apparently shut off, she remembered a tremendous power channeling itself through her arms. She could remember a faint sensation of warmth around her, and then there was the glow. Her field of vision seemed to have tinted green, as if she was looking at the world through green glasses. However, this was all she could gather. She wondered if she could forcibly tap into her powers to further examine what she was capable of, but she decided against trying to activate them, not knowing what might happen.

She arrived at school, parked her car, and walked inside to gather her books. As Marjorie came in, however, things felt different. It didn’t come from everyone, but the feeling that she was being watched seemed to wash over her. Even the school principal, who was normally the cheery sort, seemed to have something under his skin. Marjorie went about the day normally, although she couldn’t shake the feeling that had plagued her since the morning.

After school, Marjorie put her books away, then began to head toward her car. As she left the building, four men began to follow her, watching her movements. “She’s the one, boys. Let’s go get her,” said a man wearing a varsity football jacket.

“Hey, freak!” shouted one of them. Marjorie didn’t turn around, hoping that they’d go away. “Yeah, you! I’m talking to you, freak show!” Marjorie’s heart began to beat faster. She was beginning to panic. One of the men ran after her, and Marjorie sensed it and began to run herself. He caught up to her, and tackled her from behind. Marjorie fell to the ground, scraping her arms on the pavement and bruising her shoulder.

“What’s the big idea?” shouted Marjorie, clearly irritated.

“You are,” said the man. “You’re the official town freak!” The other men came up around her, and the taste of bile flooded Marjorie’s mouth. A couple of them had their fists buried in their hands, and they looked like they were ready to use them.

“What did I do to deserve this?” she shouted, hoping to buy herself some time to get away. It didn’t work.

“Shut up, animal!” shouted the man, who promptly kicked Marjorie in the chest. She coughed, stunned by the blow. “You think you can just go around acting like you’re better than everyone?” He stomped on her chest, knocking all the wind out of her. “Well, I’m here to tell you that you’re nothing!”

Marjorie rolled on to her side, when a shot came to her lower back. One of the men leaned down and punched her in the side of the face. She could feel the bitter taste of blood begin to flood her mouth. She tried to cry for help, but she couldn’t take in the air to make a sound. Another kick to her midsection further prevented her from calling for help. Suddenly, she heard a voice shout, “Hey, guys? What’s going on?” Bobby was coming, and she hoped that his reaction to her would be more favorable than the other men.

As Bobby got closer, it became obvious that the guys were kicking something. He couldn’t tell, but it looked like a girl. Bobby began running at his fastest, and before the group could react, he punched one of the men squarely in the jaw. The man fell over, stunned, as the other three took one look at Bobby’s imposing size and decided that taking him on wasn’t a good idea. “Marjorie!” he shouted, stunned that these guys would attack her. Bobby turned to the one wearing a varsity jacket and said, “Joey, you know what Coach Jenkins’ll do to you when he finds out you were beating up one of the captains of the cheerleading squad after school? You’ve got five seconds to get out of here before I take it out of your hide, and if you think Coach’s punishment’s going to be tough, just wait until I’m through with you!” The other three men turned and ran, and Bobby picked up the one he had punched by the shirt collar and recognized him. Bobby’s face turned to a scowl, and he growled, “Ryan, Just what do you think you were doing attacking my friend?”

“Uh…we…uh, kinda, uh, PUT ME DOWN!!” squirmed Ryan, realizing what it was like to be on the receiving end of the damage.

“Wrong answer,” growled Bobby. His voice became deeper and much more powerful-sounding – almost as if there was an echo behind his voice. “You tell me what the hell you were doing to Marjorie, or I’ll see to it you lose every tooth in your mouth!”

“You know, the whole freak show thing! We’ve been doing it for years! Happened about six years back with a guy named Kevin Richards! It’s just our turn to make ‘em feel unwelcome! You know, run ‘em out of town?”

“Get out of my sight. I don’t ever want to see you near her again.” Bobby cast Ryan off, who scrambled away, blood still dripping from his mouth. Bobby knelt down to Marjorie, whose nose and mouth were both bleeding. His tone changed from menacing to soft, and his facial features softened from rage to worry as he gingerly turned Marjorie over, the right side of her face swollen from one of the punches she’d received. Blood continued to spill from her nose, and Bobby simply said, “What did they do to you?” Marjorie simply smiled weakly, and Bobby put her in his car and rushed her to the hospital.

Bobby pulled into the emergency ward parking lot, picked up Marjorie, and carried her inside. When the staff saw who it was, most of them stood in shock. Suddenly, one of their own needed help. Dr. Kernigan was summoned to determine what was going on. “Oh, my God…Marjorie!” he gasped as he saw her, lying still on the hospital bed. “What happened to you?”

“She got beat up in the high school parking lot,” said Bobby. “I managed to stop them, but not before they’d already done some damage.”

Dr. Kernigan looked her over, and said, “It doesn’t look good. She’s probably got a broken nose, and from the number of blows landed to her midsection, it looks like she may have some bruised or damaged organs as well. She’ll pull through, but in what condition, I can’t say. We’ll do our best for her.”

Bobby nodded, and climbed in his car, hoping that the doctors would help Marjorie pull through. Bobby became worried at the explanation given him for why Marjorie was being attacked. The “freak show thing” he’d heard about was something that was almost ritualistically done to people who showed evidence of possessing super powers in the town. Beatings, shootings, mob violence, and other horrors. He remembered the kid who Ryan had mentioned. Kevin Jenkins – was a star student and a well-liked kid, until the day he got hit by lightning outside of town. When he came back he wasn’t quite the same. People said you could smell ozone around him, and that his hair always seemed to stand on end. People didn’t really think anything of it until one winter six years ago when an ice storm came through and caused power outages all over town – he saved one family from certain death by catching a live power line in his hands – and showed no ill effects from it. Shortly afterwards, he was subjected to the same treatment Marjorie had been, and he was forced to leave the town by his own parents. He’d since moved to Chicago and registered himself as a hero, going for the name Third Rail. He sincerely hoped that Marjorie wasn’t going to meet the same fate, but at the same time, he had a sinking feeling that the boys were right about Marjorie.

-- Two, at most three parts left. --

Part V: Consequences

Marjorie arrived home that evening, an emotional wreck from the events of the evening. She was happy that the man had pulled through, but she was concerned about her future. She stared at her hands, which, though they looked perfectly normal now, seemed to be the instruments of her undoing at the moment. Marjorie’s parents had come home, but she hadn’t told them anything. She took off her smock and flopped onto her bed. She thought about what was going to happen to her.

Across town, word had begun to spread about the previously fatally-wounded man. Richland was not known for its tolerance toward superheroes – the Statesman had visited the town once because a young boy had won a contest which awarded him a visit from the famed superhero. Statesman was allowed to visit the boy, but the visit was cut short when the city police decided they had had enough of him, and the boy was publicly chastised and ultimately, his family was forced to leave the town. It was not a particularly positive moment for the city, as other major cities and even the President of the United States took some offense at Richland’s treatment of a national hero.

At Richland City Hall, an emergency meeting had been convened. Word spread very quickly about Marjorie and her abilities, and the city council felt it had to do something immediately. “So, who is it we’re dealing with?” asked a rotund, grey-haired man, seated at the head of a large, horseshoe-shaped bench. He looked irritated, as though he’d been dragged away from his favorite television show to deal with some incredibly mundane task. Six other people sat around him, and all of them looked equally irritated at having been called out to this emergency meeting in the middle of the night.

“A citizen. A Miss Marjorie Westrick,” said another man, this one much younger. “Apparently she healed a man who was on his death bed at the hospital this afternoon. She’s probably not much of a hazard.”

“I doubt it, Jack. Superheroes are very dangerous, no matter what their…parlor tricks appear to do,” said a third man, dressed in a grey suit, and wearing a scowl that would give even the Statesman the chills.

“Edward, let’s not be brash about this,” said a young woman, whose tone belied her irritation at Edward’s comment. “Remember what happened when you took that tone towards the Statesman.”

“I know, Kristen! Don’t remind me about my having to talk to that…fraud,” growled Edward. “He’s nothing more than an old soldier who’s using a string of fortunate events to fool honest Americans.”

“Mr. Williams, you may consider yourself warned. I do not expect another outburst of this kind,” said the man at the head of the table. Edward simply glared back in the chairman’s direction.

Kristen mulled the point over. “We need to do something,” she said. “The public’s going to react rather unfavorably to a superhero in town, regardless of whether her powers are beneficial or not. However, we also need to handle it carefully, because we can’t simply throw her out with no concern for her or her family’s well-being. We already made that mistake once.” Kristen looked over the files she had pulled shortly before the meeting was called. Marjorie’s family was well-respected, and her mother served the city board of education. Both were also relatively old, and were probably not physically able to move to another place without considerable hardship.

Marjorie herself, however, was another story. She was set to graduate from high school a semester early, only some paperwork issues were keeping her from being considered done. Those could be expedited or waived. The only problem was that she was scheduled to enroll at Richland Medical School in the fall, and that couldn’t be allowed to happen. She’d have to leave the town, plain and simple.

“Jack,” growled Edward, still angry about Kristen’s remark, “must I call in to question your devotion to this council? This girl, her family, and her relatives living here need to be expelled from the city now, not later! We cannot have their kind infesting our city!”

Before Jack or the chairman could make a response, Kristin chimed in. “Gentlemen, I believe I have a solution.”

Marjorie finished up the last bit of homework she had. She still couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew what was coming. She vaguely remembered the general tone things took when the Statesman had visited Richland about ten years ago. It wasn’t a positive outlook. People became surly and uncooperative, distrustful and fearful. She didn’t understand it, but she knew that if she was indeed turning into a metahuman, her time in Richland could be very short.

-- This one's a long one. --

Part IV: Transformation
Marjorie’s high school career passed by without much incident. However, the memory of the day with the woman in the ambulance haunted her constantly. Strange dreams sometimes plagued her sleep, often dealing with enormous numbers of sick and wounded, and Marjorie being chained, unable to help. Marjorie was now a senior in high school, a captain on the cheerleading squad, a member of the student council, and a well-liked member of the student body.

Bobby had had significant success of his own as well. A starter for the Richland Mustangs’ football team, he had garnered All-State honors for his athletic prowess on the football field as well as his academic exploits. Bobby carried a 3.8 GPA, and was also involved in several community outreach projects in addition to his abilities as an athlete and student.

Karen, while less outwardly successful than either Marjorie or Bobby, still had plenty to be happy about. She was president of the school’s student academic council, and president of the chemistry club. She had also won awards for competing in the International Chess Competition her junior year, as well as being widely considered one of the smartest kids in the state.

Marjorie had also taken an internship at Richland General Hospital, the only major hospital in the county and the only major hospital in a 30-mile radius. Marjorie’s prowess and understanding of medicine was quickly noticed by the doctors and staff at Richland General, and she was quite highly regarded by her colleagues as a very good up-and-coming doctor. Marjorie was well-liked by the patients she assisted, and strangely, patients under Marjorie’s care always seemed to get better faster…

Yet another average day had come to a close for Marjorie, and she was off to work at the hospital. The cold winter air swirled around her, and a fresh coat of newly-fallen snow had covered the pavement. It was January, and Marjorie knew that in just a few weeks, she’d be done with high school and ready to move on to her internship full-time as a medical student. She had been set to graduate a full semester early, but some paperwork issues kept her from doing so.

The only thing that was bothering her that day was a dream she’d had the night before, when she replayed a scene from her childhood – the scene from the Red Cross television special where a volunteer was comforting a boy who’d lost his leg – in her mind, but this time, she was the assistant. She had one hand around the boy’s hand, and the other was caressing his forehead. She kept whispering words of comfort to him, when suddenly, everything around her went black, except for her and the boy. The boy sat up, and said to her, “You are my hero.” He faded from Marjorie’s view, and suddenly, Marjorie was alone, surrounded by an intense wind that chilled her to her core. Slowly, the wind faded, and the surroundings went from black to a soothing white, and the boy was lying in his bed, his leg somehow reattached to his body. Marjorie stood in shock, looking at the boy’s newly formed appendage. He turned his head to her, and whispered, “You made me whole again.” Marjorie stared, unable to grasp what she had just seen. Then she woke up.

After what seemed like an eternity going over the events of the previous night’s dream in her head, Marjorie shouted back, “I’ll see you later, Bobby! Thanks for the help on the physics homework!” Bobby waved back, and as Marjorie looked back at him, she couldn’t help but notice how he’d grown. He was huge. Bobby stood almost six and a half feet tall, and was built like a brick wall. His arms were as thick as telephone poles, and Bobby could easily bench-press over five hundred pounds. He was freakishly strong, and had sometimes demonstrated that strength in front of her, bending half-inch thick iron bars into pretzel shapes. She wondered about him sometimes, if there weren’t special things about Bobby she didn’t know, but she had always assumed that it was just the sheer amount of time Bobby spent training.

Marjorie climbed into her car and drove herself to the back end of the hospital, her uniform in hand. She came in, waving to the receptionist at the front desk, and put on a long-sleeved white shirt, her usual attire when she was in the hospital. She had a feeling that she was going to be in for a busy shift, as she was scheduled to help her mentor, Dr. Kernigan, in the emergency ward for six hours tonight. “Good thing I don’t have a lot of homework tonight,” she muttered as she looked at the assignment board. “Perfect,” she grumbled. “Blood work.” Marjorie hated doing blood work; it was tedious and dull. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and Dr. K will need me.”

Dr. Kernigan was a very highly-regarded doctor at the hospital, and Marjorie was considered lucky to be his intern, because he rarely took them. Kernigan saw the spark of something he’d never seen in her, and he had taken it upon himself to ensure that she got the best possible training she could while she was under his wing.

About an hour had passed since she’d come to work. The clock read 4:30, and she was due for her dinner break in thirty minutes. She had been poring over the results for a particularly confusing bit of blood work she had been assigned to do – the results kept coming out skewed, like something wasn’t right with the sample. It was almost as if the chemical makeup of the blood she had in the vial had been altered somehow. She sighed and set the vial down, frustrated, trying to figure out what she had done wrong and whether she needed to go back to the patient to get another sample.

That’s when it happened. The doors to the emergency ward opened and all kinds of noise came rushing into the lobby along with a gust of bitterly cold air. It had become noticeably colder since Marjorie had left school, and the wind had picked up. A snowstorm had been forecast for the area, and everyone was on pins and needles, knowing that the number of car accidents was likely to go up. Marjorie peered out of the lab to see what the commotion was, thinking that a car crash had indeed happened. However, this particular incident was no car accident. Richland police came in along with paramedics, carting a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties, who was clearly in abject pain. Marjorie could not see the nature of the man’s wound, but was wondering what had happened.

“Ms. Westrick! Room 13B, stat!” shouted a voice over the loudspeaker. Marjorie hopped into action, setting the blood vial back in its rack, and wondering what was going on. She put on a smock and ran down the hall toward the emergency ward, where Dr. Kernigan was with the man she’d seen come in with the police, along with two other doctors who were trying desperately to keep the man alive.

“I need 50ccs of epinephrine divided into three doses, two 20cc doses and a 10cc dose. Quickly!” shouted Dr. Kernigan, who was trying to clean up the wound on the man. Marjorie turned around and drew the doses as the doctor requested, and set them on a small tray next to him.

“They’re ready, doctor. What are we looking at?” asked Marjorie, trying to figure out what had Dr. Kernigan so worked up.

“Gunshot wound to the upper torso,” said Dr. Kernigan, “but this was no ordinary gunshot wound. It looks like the bullet did some major organ damage but there’s no exit wound, only an entrance wound.” Blood gurgled from the hole where the bullet had gone in, and Marjorie thought for a quick moment about where the bullet had gone.

“Do you think he has a punctured lung?” said Marjorie, imagining the trajectory of the bullet.

“I’m certain of it. Look at his breathing. It’s labored. He’s only got one functioning lung – which you can survive on, but the concern is that his right lung is filling with blood. He’ll drown if we don’t do something.” The man began to cough, and coughed up a small amount of blood. “See,” said Kernigan as he racked his brains trying to figure out a way to drain the blood from the man’s lung, “he’s vomiting blood.”

Marjorie’s heart began to race. Short of sucking the blood out through the bullet wound, she couldn’t think of a way to drain his lungs. Dr. Kernigan turned to a nurse and asked for cutting tools to try and open the man’s chest in the hopes that he could get some suction to the lung, but the man began to convulse. His breathing was beginning to falter, and his heart rate had increased dramatically in the few short minutes Marjorie had been there. The nurse searched for some tools, and Dr. Kernigan shouted, “The man’s going to drown in his own blood! Hurry it up!”

Marjorie felt paralyzed. Nothing she had ever been taught dealt with how to help a man so gravely wounded. “Drowning in your own blood,” she thought. She couldn’t imagine the kind of pain that produced. It made her wince at the thought. She looked at the man, who seemed to be steadily getting worse, and her fear began to overtake her. Tiny beads of perspiration began to form on Marjorie’s forehead. She did the only thing she knew she could – she grasped the man’s hand and tried to keep him calm, but it was doing no good. The man coughed again, and a gout of bright red blood gushed out of his mouth, spilling over his face and the pillow. He sank back on to the bed, his mouth and lower jaw covered in blood, and his throat gurgling with a disgusting sound. If something wasn’t done quickly, the man would be dead within minutes. Marjorie’s heart felt like it had just stopped, and time came to a standstill.

Dr. Kernigan turned to the man, and that’s when he saw it happen. Marjorie looked to be in a trance – her eyes, normally a brilliant blue color, flashed green, and her hands, clasped about the dying man’s, appeared to carry a faint green halo. Dr. Kernigan watched in confusion as the gunshot wound closed before his eyes, and the man’s natural breathing cycle slowly returned to him. The halo about Marjorie’s hands seemed to get brighter with each passing second, and her eyes began to sparkle with an eerie green light. Finally, after a few tense moments, the man’s heart rate and breathing slowed to a calm, and the wound was mysteriously gone.

Marjorie seemed to be oblivious to what had just happened. “Marjorie!” snapped Dr. Kernigan, clearly dumbfounded by what had just happened, “What did you do?”

“Huh?” asked Marjorie, unaware of what had just gone on around her.

“Look at the patient!” Marjorie looked down, and while there was still blood encrusted around the point of entry, the wound was now gone. The man was soundly asleep, and no longer laboring to breathe. His heartbeat was normal. Dr. Kernigan pushed Marjorie aside, and put a stethoscope to the place where the wound was. “His lung is empty,” said Dr. Kernigan, shocked. He turned to Marjorie, angry, confused and afraid of what she had done. “How did you do that?” he barked, clearly agitated that he didn’t understand what was going on.

“I don’t know!” said Marjorie, now more scared of Dr. Kernigan than she was of the man dying. “I was just scared! I didn’t even know what happened until you told me to look!”

“Let’s get him to a clean bed. Marjorie, I want to see you in my office in 15 minutes. Understood?” said Dr. Kernigan, his voice a little calmer now. Marjorie nodded, and orderlies came around to transport the man to a recovery room. As they lifted him up, the bullet came rolling out of the back of his shirt onto the bed. Dr. Kernigan looked at it, and finally said, “Looks like we’d better get this to the police. They’ll want it for their ballistics department.” He took a pair of tweezers, and picked the bullet up off the bed and placed it in a plastic bag, labeled it, and handed it to a police officer who had been standing outside.

Fifteen minutes later, Marjorie sat down in Dr. Kernigan’s office, scared to death of what she had done and what was going to happen to her. She couldn’t think straight. How had the man healed? How was she somehow responsible? Questions flooded her mind, and she was scared of the answers. Dr. Kernigan came in, a stern look about his face. “Well, I don’t know what you did, but he’s going to pull through. The wound has completely healed, as well as the organ damage. In fact, I’d say they were working better than they ever had. He’s going to recover quickly.” That put Marjorie’s mind to rest on one thing, but she was still afraid of her own future.

Dr. Kernigan sighed, and looked down at his desk for a moment. “Are you even aware of what happened?” asked Dr. Kernigan. Marjorie sheepishly shook her head no. “Fine. I’ll tell you what I saw. I knew you’d taken his hand in yours, but that’s where the normalcy ended. Your eyes flashed this bright green color, and then your hands got this green halo around them, and that’s when things began to really confuse me.”

“The halo kept getting brighter and brighter, and the man’s wound healed so rapidly I was able to watch the wound close itself. Then his breathing became gradually less and less labored, and he closed his eyes and fell asleep. That’s when I told you to move aside, and I checked him with the stethoscope. Now would you mind telling me what you think happened?”

Marjorie shuddered. The events of the stabbing victim she’d helped four years ago rang in her mind, as well as her dream. Could it be that she was the one with super powers? If so, that would explain the amazing recovery record for everyone under her care. If, by her mere presence, she emanated healing energy, that would explain a lot.

“I think we’re going to have to place you on administrative leave for awhile, Marjorie,” said Dr. Kernigan. “I don’t like doing it, because you’ve been a great intern, but until we get to the bottom of this, I think you would be better served by spending your time at home.” Marjorie opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. She simply couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She closed her mouth, got up, and gathered her things, dejectedly. “Oh, come now, Marjorie. It’ll be over soon. I’m sure we’ll figure out what happened and get it all sorted out,” said Dr. Kernigan, trying to cheer her up. A tear rolled down Marjorie’s cheek. She felt blackballed, somehow, as though she was being forced away out of fear. Marjorie simply took her things and left, pausing only to stop by the room where the man she’d saved rested. He was awake, and he looked over at her, and smiled warmly. It was as if he knew what she had done.

-- More to come. --

Part III: Cognition

“Wow. That was weird,” said Marjorie, walking out of the hospital with her friends shortly after the ordeal in the alleyway behind the department store.

“Yeah, no kidding,” said Karen, knowing that what she’d just experienced was more than a little wild. The woman who’d been stabbed seemed to recover unusually quickly – the wound was not nearly as deep as it originally had been by the time they made it to the hospital, and when she was treated the doctors told them she would be released later that day.

What stuck in Marjorie’s mind, however, was the alarming speed with which the woman healed. During the hospital ride, the stab wound seemed to get less and less deep, and when the doctors looked at it at the hospital, they thought she had just been grazed by the knife instead of having been fully stabbed by a 3-inch blade. Marjorie wondered how any human could possibly heal as fast as this woman did, especially given the blood loss she had experienced. She had lost nearly a half-pint of blood by the time Marjorie began treating her, and her injury looked to be potentially fatal when she saw the deepness of the wound. But when they had arrived at the hospital, the injury was barely a shadow of its former self, the bleeding had stopped completely, and any internal organ damage that might have been done was now gone.

Marjorie kept going over the situation in her mind repeatedly, trying to figure out what was going on, when it came to her: the woman must have been someone with latent super powers! She’d heard about it happening, but she’d never seen it in Richland. She’d heard that sometimes, people with dormant powers never actually see their effects until placed in a situation of extreme stress or danger. The woman was certainly in danger, which might have explained why her regenerative powers hadn’t manifested until Marjorie saw her. “That has to be it,” said Marjorie, thinking out loud.

“What has to be it?” asked Bobby, wondering what was racing through Marjorie’s mind.

“Why the woman was healing so fast. You saw it, right? The knife wound was barely a scratch when we finally got to the hospital.”

“Yeah, I did notice that, seemed kinda odd to me.”

“She must have had dormant super powers or something. I’d heard about things like that happening, but I’d never seen it until I realized it just now.”

“You think she’s a superhero?”

“No, but she could be in the process of becoming one.”

“Huh. That’s an interesting theory, Marge. Still, if that’s the case, she’d better be careful. Who knows what could happen if other powers manifested themselves in that woman uncontrollably?”

“Yeah. I’d hate to think that she has some destructive power that she doesn’t know she has yet.”

Unfortunately, Marjorie couldn’t have been more wrong about her assumptions. Deep down inside her, fundamental changes were taking place. Yes, puberty was in full bloom for her and it was changing her outward appearance to others, but there were physiological changes happening to her that were documented by no medical text anywhere on the face of the Earth. Genetic code was rewriting itself, fundamentally altering how her body functioned, and while the changes being effected would take years to manifest themselves fully, eventually, Marjorie would fully understand just what was happening to her.

-- Still more on its way. --

Part II: Genesis

“Marjorie, it’s time for school!” said her mother, buttoning up the last button on her blouse. Marjorie stirred, but merely gave a weak grunt in response to her mother’s call. “You need to wake up. You’ll be late for the bus if you don’t get moving!” Her mother nudged her, trying to get her to move. Eight years had passed since the day Marjorie had seen the special on the Red Cross, and she was now one of their junior members. Her career path had focused to her – she wanted to be a doctor, someone who could provide comfort and aid to the sick and dying.

“Marjorie, get up!” shouted her father. She awoke with a start, and groaned. She had never been much of a morning person, and this morning, it seemed particularly difficult to rouse herself. Marjorie dragged herself out of bed, and got herself ready for school. The morning’s ride to school was relatively uneventful, aside from one kid from the elementary school brought his pet snake on to the bus, scaring all the little girls. Marjorie was now a freshman in high school, and was enjoying her time at Richland High. The school day itself seemed pretty normal as well. Unfortunately, that was where the normalcy would begin to end.

Marjorie chose to walk home that day with her friends, instead of riding the bus. It was the middle of March, and the sun shone brightly. Bobby and Karen, just like in elementary school, walked beside her, and they were chatting about the events of the day. Bobby had grown considerably, he was a starter on the junior varsity football team and played as the center. He was huge for a freshman, and was regarded by many as a potential football star for Richland High School. Karen was an officer in the school’s chemistry club, and had been on the honor roll since the second quarter. Her shy nature still dominated her personality, but Marjorie had helped with that, and she was a little more outgoing than she had been before.

They passed the old Markson building, which currently was the home of a small department store, and Marjorie heard what sounded like scuffling in the alleyway behind her. A scream erupted from the alleyway, and Marjorie turned around, seeing a large man who came running out of the alley, carrying a bloodied knife and a purse. Marjorie ran to look at the victim, and she saw a young woman lying on the ground, blood spilling from a wound to her stomach. “Oh, my God! Bobby, go after him! Karen, find a police officer! We need an ambulance!” The many months of training she’d had in the Junior Red Cross kicked into gear in an instant. Bobby ran after the assailant, trying to keep track of where he went, while Karen ran down the street towards the police station.

The woman groaned in pain, trying to pick herself up from off the ground. “Don’t try to stand,” said Marjorie. “You’ll only aggravate the wound more. Can you turn on to your back?” The woman struggled, but was able to flip over. Marjorie looked the woman over. A huge blood stain covered the lower half of her shirt, and the wound to her midriff was readily visible. It wasn’t gushing like it had been a few moments ago, but it was still open and slowly bleeding. Marjorie’s heart raced as she reached into her book bag and produced a first aid kit that had been issued to her by the Junior Red Cross, and she began to take steps to dress the wound and clean it up.

Karen returned with a police officer, who saw Marjorie attempting to clean and dress the wound. “Don’t touch her, ma’am,” said the officer. Marjorie glanced back at him, and Karen saw a glance that was more intense than she’d ever seen on her face. Marjorie flashed her Junior Red Cross badge to the officer, and the officer stood there for a moment, seemingly in a state of confusion at the girl’s reaction.

“Just get an ambulance here,” said Marjorie, in a commanding tone which seemed to exude authority. The officer nodded, and radioed for help. “I’ll try to give them a little head start.” Marjorie looked at the wound again and it seemed to be a little smaller than before, and the bleeding had stopped. Marjorie looked again, not quite understanding why the wound appeared to be healing so fast. The woman appeared quite at ease, as though the pain was vanishing. A few minutes later, Bobby showed up with the purse. “Bobby? How’d you get the purse back?”

“Simple. I tackled him. His face hit the pavement and I ripped the purse from his hand, and I knew I could outrun him, so I did. I probably broke his nose, but, that’s what you get when you’re not wearing a helmet,” said Bobby, whose knees had been scraped a little by his tackle. “Looks like the wound isn’t as bad as you thought, Marjorie,” said Bobby, a little surprised at how much blood the wound had produced for its size.

“No, it’s bad. It’s a misleading kind of wound. These tend to have some internal organ damage with them,” said Marjorie, trying to keep her patient calm. The ambulance arrived and took the woman into the ambulance. She appeared to be in visible pain as they took her away, and Marjorie became concerned.

The woman looked at Marjorie weakly and said, “Can she come with us?” Marjorie’s reaction was a little stunned, but Marjorie nodded her assent and the medics agreed to allow her to come, so Marjorie and her friends to ride with the woman in the ambulance. As Marjorie approached the woman, she seemed to get visibly calmer and more at ease, as if the pain was vanishing. The threesome climbed into the ambulance and rode to the hospital with the woman, who simply smiled as she looked at Marjorie’s eyes.

-- More to come. --

Part I: Ideals

Richland, Virginia. A small, quiet town of about 1,200 people, Richland was a community which prided itself on its hospitality. Traditional southern ideals and values flourished in the small, quietly-kept town. It was a place where you could hang your hat and within a matter of days, know a good solid third of the town. A place where acquaintances came easily and friendship was lasting. A nice, quiet, peaceful place to live.

The year was 1988. Marjorie Rose Westrick, then only six years old, sat in the family room of her modest home on Commodore Avenue, just west of the downtown proper of Richland. She was watching a special on people who worked for the Red Cross in Africa, helping to combat the injustices done by the African government during the then-active era of Apartheid. While the images were sometimes gruesome and difficult to watch, as humanity’s brutal nature revealed itself, she was comforted by the healing and care that Red Cross volunteers provided to people in need.

She watched intently as a boy, barely seven years old, was tended to by volunteers after losing his right leg to a landmine. Despite the obvious pain the boy was feeling, there was no fear in his eyes. The camera panned back to reveal a young woman of about twenty caressing his cheek, and whispering words of comfort to him. It was an image that Marjorie would never forget, and one that would inspire her to take the career path she eventually would.

Marjorie’s parents, Stephen and Amanda, both worked to make ends meet in their home. Stephen worked as an engineer out south of town at the Crey Industries building, where they made pharmaceuticals and biomedical devices of all kinds. Amanda worked as a bussing coordinator for the Richland City Board of Education, helping to get children to school quickly, and home just as fast. Stephen frequently brought strange and unusual projects home to work on them in his basement, attempting to perfect project after project for Crey. Marjorie frequently sat next to her father and watched him tinker with everything from drug formulae to bio-energy projects. Marjorie’s life could be considered decidedly average by most children’s estimations, with the exception of her father’s job.

Marjorie attended Richland Elementary School as a first-grader, and was fast friends with many. She found that her presence alone would cheer people up, as her demeanor seemed to lighten people’s hearts and ease anxieties. People seemed to feel safe around her, and nobody could really explain why.

Two of her best friends, Bobby “Buzz” Kensington, and Karen Plussman, were by her side almost all the time. Bobby was the hero type from the outset. He’d read many of the famous stories about the Statesman and the Freedom Phalanx in the history books, and about how Paragon City was the most famous center in the world for superheroes. He would often fantasize about being a famous superhero, and how he would one day, save the world. His parents told him that his desire to be a superhero was nonsense, and that his imagination would get the better of him one day. While Bobby would one day realize that his dream might not come true, for now, he knew what he wanted to be when he grew older, and for the most part, his dreams and desires were motivated by all the right things: wanting to help others.

Karen was a level-headed, sensible girl and frequently played as the voice of reason whenever Bobby concocted some crazy idea to have fun. Karen’s appreciation for Marjorie’s talents with people was evident as well, and whenever Karen’s naturally shy and reserved nature became a problem for her, Marjorie was quick to help her friend get off on the right foot meeting new people. Karen had aspirations of her own as well. Her greatest desire was to become a scientist dealing with energy sources for the country, and to try and find new sources of fuel for the world to use.

Marjorie’s special talents weren’t obvious to anyone – even Marjorie herself. People just naturally seemed to feel better in Marjorie’s presence, and this made her feel happy. Marjorie simply assumed it was her personality, but not even she could have realized what was going on inside her.

-- More to come as I write it. --