Like a Phoenix (Blue's Story)

Once upon a time, I was a hero.

They called me Horatio.

Now … now I’m the Technology Hero contact in Atlas Park. Most of the time, it’s a pretty good job. There’s nothing quite so rewarding as watching a young hero take his, her, or its first steps on the road to adventure. Yes, most of the time I’m pretty happy with my job.

Today’s not one of those days.

I can easily think of a dozen places I’d rather be than here today—and that includes trying to find the last hostage in Oranbega.

Helping a hero get started is one thing. Decommissioning one is quite another.

I tell myself that at least he’s going to be a retired hero rather than a dead one, but I know from personal experience how cold a comfort that can be. I love my wife. I know that I do good work—important work. I have a good life …

But not a day goes by when I don’t miss being out on the front lines.

Old heroes do die—and they’re the lucky ones.

The servos in my leg whine in protest, but I take the stairs anyway. I’m just delaying the inevitable, but I can’t help myself. I’ve been where he is—I know exactly how he’s going to feel.

That’s why I’m doing this. When a hero is put on the inactive list, he’s notified in person. We owe them that much.

And he was one of the first heroes I mentored back after the first Rikti Invasion. He’s one of mine. If anyone’s going to tell him, it’s going to be me.

There’s a man standing outside his room when I get there. He’s incredibly tall, with the face of a poet. He’s dressed in civvies, but the metallic right arm is a dead giveaway.

“Hello, Gungnir,” I say. “It’s been a while.”

“Davies.” He leans up against the wall. “I’d say that I’m surprised to see you, but we both know that’d be a lie.”

“How is he?”

“Blue? He’s doing better than he will be after he sees you.”

That’s Gungnir for you. Not exactly the most circumspect of guys. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s here. He and Blue started out together—and even though he went off the grid while Blue went onto to become a full fledged Hero of the City you never forget the first guy who guarded your back in a firefight.

“It has to be done, Gungnir. His armor’s been totally destroyed, and no one’s been able to duplicate his mother’s work. He destroyed his rifle himself when he used it on that Rikti bomb. As for his fire powers …” I shrug. “I’m not happy about this any more than you are, but it’s not like I have a choice.”

Gungnir scowls and electricity crackles around his hands. “Doesn’t make it right.”

“Gung? Who are you talking to?” The voice is weaker than I remember, but given what he’s been through I’m not surprised.

“It’s me, Blue. Rick Davies. I need to talk to you.”

For a long moment, he’s quiet.

“Blue?”

I can hear the sigh from the hallway, and it makes me feel even worse than I already do—and I thought that would be impossible. “Come on in, Rick.”

Gungnir scowls at me again and follows me into Blue’s room. He doesn’t say anything else, just walks over to Blue’s side and looks at me like he’d like to fry every circuit in my prosthetics.

“Hello, Blue.” I smile at him.

He’s younger than I remembered, though when I knew him he was wearing a full helmet that concealed his facial features. Still, he’s no more likely to be 30 than Synapse is to be chaste and pure. He looks like the proverbial boy next door.

He also looks like he’s been through hell.

He’s bruised, burnt, and bandaged. I wince as I look at his right shoulder. I know from personal experience how thoroughly a Rikti Blade can shear through flesh and bone … I bet it didn’t even hurt when his arm was severed …

“It’s on the table, Rick.”

“Blue, I’m sorry—“

“Me too, Rick. Me too.”

Gungnir balls his fist and looks like he’d like nothing more than to punch me in the face, but Blue quiets him with a glance. “It’s his job, Gung. I understand.”

I take the ID Card and press a concealed button on it. “This is Rick Davies. Technology Contact. Atlas Park. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged,” the AI system that linked to Blue’s ID responded.

“As of this date, Blue Battler—Origin Technology, Assault Rifle/Fire Manipulation Blaster—has been decommissioned as a hero of Paragon City. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged. ID deactivating.”

The card sizzled and popped and the display went blank in my hand.

Like Blue’s career, it was dead.

Blue gasped like he’d been shot and looked away.

Gungnir laid his hand on Blue’s shoulder and looked at me. “Get out before I throw you out.”

“Blue—“

“Rick, please.” His voice cracked like he was holding back tears. “Just go.”

I nodded because my own throat was tightening up. It’s never easy to take away someone’s avocation from them. Still, I forced out the word, “Blue?”

“Yeah?” His eyes are filled with tears now.

“No matter what the official word is, you’ll always be a Hero of the City.”

“Thanks, Rick.” He turns his head to stare out the window of his hospital room.

I want to say more. I want to tell him that his life isn’t over. That he’s going to get through this.

I want to, but I don’t.

Blue Battler was a Hero of the City. He saved countless lives. He sacrificed his armor, his weapon, and his power to protect us.

And now I had just taken away everything he had earned over the last four years.

If I had been Gungnir I would have wanted to punch me too.

I turn and walk out.

---

My COX Fanfiction:


Blue's Assembled Story Links

Cool

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Damn...

Very, very cool. And very moving.

Michelle
aka
Samuraiko/Dark_Respite

---

When Heroes of Paragon lose their powers, they tend to have one of several possible reactions:

45% resume the lifestyle they had before they ever began their careers. They put aside their costumes and codenames and become nothing more than average citizens.

25% find themselves entering a career that resembles what they did as a Hero: they join Longbow or Vanguard or the Paragon Police Department. Alternatively, they go to work for the Bureau of Superhuman Affairs or branch out as a Hero Contact themselves, using their knowledge, experience, and street contacts to help new Heroes protect Paragon City and the world.

15% spend the rest of their lives trying to regain their powers. They try technology, science, magic, or training to become again what they had been. Most of them fail. More than a few of them die in the attempt.

8% turn against the very forces of Law and Order they once represented. They become, for lack of a better word, Villains.

12% take their own lives within the first year.

The more powerful the Hero, the less likely it is they will resume anything like a normal life.

The Countess is aware of this, of course. I personally wrote up a report on the subject myself. When we heard that the Hero of the City called Blue Battler had been wounded and depowered in combat with the Rikti, we realized that a unique opportunity presented itself.

It’s not often a Hero of the City comes to work for Crey, but it has happened before. Given her personal history with Blue Battler, the Countess thought it best that someone else approached him. Of course, there was really only one possible choice for this task: me.

Gaining access to him was not easy … but it was not especially difficult either. Not for someone with the resources of Crey Corporation behind him. The one possible obstacle was making sure that Blue Battler’s friend and ally Gungnir was not present at the time of our meeting. Gungnir’s antipathy for Crey is well known to us, and nothing could be achieved other than a pointless battle if Gungnir should be there when I made my offer to Blue Battler.

Fortunately, there was a Crey facility that had been underperforming as of late. By transferring some—let us say less than optimal—staff and equipment there and letting some rumors hit the streets, I managed to lure Gungnir from Blue Battler’s side for several hours—with the additional benefit of disposing of some dead weight at minimal cost.

Quite efficient, if I say so myself.

With Gungnir out of the way, all I had to do was wait for Blue Battler to return from his physical therapy session. I occupied myself reading budget proposals from various department heads, determining which would be given the go ahead and which would be … terminated. I had gotten perhaps a third of the way through when he returned.

I laid the report down and rose to my feet. “Good morning, Mr. Wagner.” It was important to call him by his civilian name as a reminder of what he had lost … and by extension, who had taken it from him. “I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is—“

“I know who you are, Hopkins. What does the Countess’ lapdog want with me?” Blue—no, Wagner—sits down on his bed and warily looks at me through his glasses. He frowns and takes them off, rubbing his eyes, before laying them down on his nightstand.

I was quite aware of his history with the Countess, so I simply dropped my proffered hand and picked up the case I had brought into the room. “The Countess wanted me to offer you her deepest sympathies on the loss of your powers and status as a Hero of the City, Mr. Wagner. She knows that you spent many hours protecting the public welfare and feels that a great injustice has been done to you. She offers the full services of Crey Corporation to help you find proper redress.”

He awkwardly grips a cup with his remaining hand and takes a drink. “Oh right. I know exactly how the Countess operates, Mr. Hopkins. If I want to make a deal with the devil, I’ll just cut the middleman out and pick up a COT Thorn myself.”

“I know that you have had … difficulties with Crey in the past, Mr. Wagner, but I assure you that we mean you no harm. The Countess can always find a use for talented personnel, and even without your powers your experience and the skills earned as a Hero of the City could be most useful to Crey.” I look him straight in the eye. “And we might even be able to restore your status.”

He crushes the cup in his hand. “There’s nothing anyone can do. Mom made my armor expressly for the purpose of fighting the Rikti—no one’s been able to duplicate her work since she passed away. My gun ... I had to trigger the self destruct myself. As for my natural power …” He pauses then and shuts his eyes. “It’s gone … gone like my arm.”

“Perhaps not, Mr. Wagner.” I open the case. “Crey is the premier manufacturer of prosthesis in the country. We can give you a bionic limb that not only looks like the arm you lost, but also serves to mimic the powers you lost.”

Inside the case is a bionic arm. It’s already covered in synthetic flesh that feels disturbingly warm to the touch as I take it out of the case. I press a concealed stud on the shoulder joint, and a blazing scimitar forms in the grasp of that non-living hand.

“Crey can give you your powers back, Mr. Wagner. We can give you a new arm. We can make you Blue Battler again. All you have to do … all you have to do is join us.”

“What do you say, Mr. Wagner?” I don’t often smile, but I am smiling now. I have him right where I want him. There’s no way he can refuse this offer … no way he can turn his back on the power that Crey offers him.

Body and soul, Blue Battler will belong to Crey!

---

My COX Fanfiction:


Blue's Assembled Story Links

I know, somewhere inside, Hopkins is laughing maniacly

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#69397 Get Grog a Drink!
#155312 No Good Deed Goes Unrewarded
#229565 Take Back the Park! (lowbie friendly)

Praetor of the [url="http://www.forgottenlegion.net"]Forgotten Legion[/url] SG and mod for the HUB player community. All hail the mighty Grog!

Ever since Grandmother Monica died, I’ve hated hospitals.

I smile and wave at the young heroes as they rush out of the elevators and head to their next missions. “Miss Liberty!” one of them exclaims in delight.

“No, that’s my mother,” I reply with a tight smile. “I’m Ms. Liberty.” You’d think that after all this time, they’d remember that. Could be worse, I suppose: at least no one calls me Statesgirl anymore.

Well, not more than once anyway.

It would have been more discrete to go in civilian clothing, but I didn’t think that would have quite the impact that I wanted. Blue Battler might be able to say no to Jessica Cole; Ms. Liberty was another story.

I glance in a mirror before I enter his room. Hair and makeup are perfect. The smile takes a bit more work; it’s not as easy as it used to be to look like the Girl Next Door.

Especially when I’m planning to take advantage of a man who trusts me.

Oh yes. I know what I’m doing. I know that it’s not exactly fair to approach Blue now when he’s still dealing with the termination of his Hero of the City status. If he says yes now, he may regret it later, but he’ll stick with his agreement because that’s the kind of man he is.

And I need men like that in Longbow.

I don’t like it, but Recluse isn’t going to be stopped by fighting fair. If that means that I have to sometimes do things I’d rather not—well, that’s the price I pay for being the leader of Longbow.

I knock on the door before I open it. “Blue? May I speak with you?”

“Ms. Liberty? Sure. Come on in.”

I can’t keep from frowning as I enter the room and shut the door behind me. There was a time when Blue would have been thrilled to have me visit. Can’t let him see that I’m irritated, though; it won’t help my pitch at all. “It’s good to see you again, Blue.”

“Thanks, Ms. Liberty.” He’s testing out a new prosthetic right arm. It’s not much to look at, but it’s moving with a fluid grace that’s better than almost any prosthesis I’ve ever seen. A smile flits across Blue’s face as he clenches and unclenches the fist. “My friend Gungnir made it for me.”

“The hospital hasn’t equipped you with one yet?” Even if he was no longer a Hero of the City, Blue Battler had done too much for Paragon not to rate the best of care. “I’ll speak to them right away—“

“Don’t blame them. Crey Corporation offered me a state of the art bionic limb.” He pauses. “Along with a job offer.”

The thought of a former Hero of the City working for Crey with all his knowledge and contacts is enough to make me glad I hadn’t had lunch yet. “And did you take it?”

“I told Hopkins what he could do with that robot arm and his job offer, and he wasn’t too happy with me. That’s when I asked Gung to make me this one. It’s not much to look at, but I know that it’s 100 percent Creytech free.” He smiles wryly as he looks at me. “Gungnir’s not a fan of Crey.”

“I don’t blame him.” One of these days the Countess will have to be put away once for and all, but right now her army of lawyers have thwarted every attempt to put her into the Zig.

“So what are you here for, Ms. Liberty?”

The bluntness surprises me. I had been counting on Blue’s … fondness for me from his novice hero days to make this easier. “I don’t remember you as being so abrupt, Blue.”

“I’m not a Hero any longer.” There’s bitterness in his voice, and I can’t blame him. “Rick Davies made sure to let me know that before I had even started to heal.”

“I’m sorry, Blue—“

“I’m sorry too, Ms. Liberty. But it’s not Rick’s fault. He was just the messenger.” He smiles wryly. “So again, what do you want? I’m pretty sure that you have better things to do with your time than to visit an ex-Hero.”

Those eyes. I flinch away from the look in those eyes. I can remember a time when he had looked at me—at Grandfather, Positron, Synapse, all of us—with admiration rather than suspicion. Was it inevitable that Blue would become so cynical or did we have something to do with it?

For the first time since I decided to come here, I feel … ashamed. Blue has already given up so much for Paragon, and I’m going to ask him to give more.

But I do it anyway.

“I want to offer you a job, Blue. I want you to join Longbow.”

“Longbow?”

“Crey’s not the only one with state of the art technology. We can give you back at least some of what you lost. You may have lost your powers, but you haven’t lost your experience. You’ve always been a good tactician. You’ve traveled to at least half a dozen other worlds. You’ve traveled in time. You’ve faced some of the most powerful beings in existence without backing down. The Countess is right; you’d be a tremendous asset to any group you joined.

“I want that group to be mine.”

“Ms. Liberty—“

I put my finger onto his lips. “Don’t answer now, Blue. Just think about it. Think about what it’d be like to fight the good fight again.” I look deeply into his eyes. “Paragon still needs you, Blue. I still need you.”

I let the words linger in the air.

I kiss his forehead and take a card out of my belt and lay it on the table beside his bed. “Think about it, Blue. Let me know what you decide.”

I know he’s watching me as I leave.

I tell myself that it’s not just because I want to make Longbow stronger. I tell myself that it’s for Blue’s own good—that he has too much to offer the world to let him stew in self-pity for God knows how long before he decides what he wants to do with his life. I tell myself I’m just offering him a choice …

I still feel as dirty as Dominatrix.

---

My COX Fanfiction:


Blue's Assembled Story Links

Damn, man... just... damn.

Michelle
aka
Samuraiko/Dark_Respite

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I hope that's a good damn ...

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My COX Fanfiction:


Blue's Assembled Story Links

Yes, it is. Fear not.

Michelle
aka
Samuraiko/Dark_Respite

---

*sigh*

I have to ask this every time. What is your source for Ms. Liberty's name? The novels? The comics?

In-game, they still call her Megan.

It's like flesh-eating bacteria in my mind...

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My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

This is excellent stuff bro, keep it up!

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[ QUOTE ]
*sigh*

I have to ask this every time. What is your source for Ms. Liberty's name? The novels? The comics?

In-game, they still call her Megan.

It's like flesh-eating bacteria in my mind...

[/ QUOTE ]

My source is the novels.

Thematically, Megan would be a more appropriate name given her grandparents' connection to the Furies ... but I had already used Jessica and I'm not violating my internal continuity.

Maybe her full name is Megan Jessica Cole or something.

---

My COX Fanfiction:


Blue's Assembled Story Links

I've seen that theory... Cripes, this issue makes my head hurt.

Otherwise, still golden stuff, Blue, and the stuff that's bothering me has nothing to do with you (it's just a continuity error that is glaringly left unresolved by the powers that be).

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My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

This might sound like a back-handed compliment, and maybe it is, I dunno, but the thing I'm finding interesting about this story is the experiment with having everyone BUT Blue Battler narrate it in first person.

I have to admit, that I don't quite get where Ms. Liberty's conflict is coming from. Apparently, she believes that if Blue Battler was hale and hearty, or at least he was recovered emotionally from the trauma of his recent losses, that he would think twice before joining Longbow? So, she feels that she's doing him a disservice in the name of the greater good, essentially attempting to seduce him into joining?

Since you can't show what's going on in Blue Battler's head when you're telling a story in this fashion, I'd find it helpful if there was some sort of explanation about how he relates to the people who ARE narrating. Rick Davies - Liaison, check. Crey - Opportunists. Check. Ms. Liberty/Longbow? Uhhh...? There's a past history here that isn't explained, or a relationship with Jessica Cole (of whatever nature) that also is unexplained?

Just what IS the Battler's beef with Longbow that she feels like she's hitting him when he's vulnerable and trying to trick him into making a decision he ordinarily might decide against? What reason has he got to be suspicious and why is it justified or not?

Maybe you wanted people to ask these questions and plan to answer them further down the line.

---

Well, there's the first thing that Ms. Liberty thinks that she may be going a bit overboard by being in-costume when she asks for his help. Her uniform is a reminder of the overall importance of being a hero in a world like this, and someone who's been as dedicated as Blue would probably have trouble ignoring the symbolism.

As for troubles with Longbow, well, Slick, you've mentioned them yourself, numerous times. With people like Agent Wilder in their employ, I believe a large number of bright-eyed heroes would feel rubbed the wrong way by most of Longbow's forces.

As for past relationships, Ms. Liberty is the first trainer for a lot of heroes. Some players even come back to her when they reach level 50, as if it's a special event; like a way of saying "Look how far I've come!"

Of course, these are just statistically likely scenarios... As you stated, there's probably all sorts of backstory involved that we haven't even grazed yet.

---

My Stories

Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.

[ QUOTE ]

As for past relationships, Ms. Liberty is the first trainer for a lot of heroes. Some players even come back to her when they reach level 50, as if it's a special event; like a way of saying "Look how far I've come!"



[/ QUOTE ]

Yeah, that's true. I'm a Galaxy City man myself, but I can see how that would apply.

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“So, Doc? What’s the verdict? Can I go home now?”

“I think that you’ve probably had enough of hospital food, Blue. I’ll sign the discharge papers today.”

The young man called Blue Battler smiles at me in relief. “Great. My cousin Drake said he’d pick me up. I’ll call him as soon as I get back into my room.”

“Your cousin Drake?” I raise my eyebrows. “I thought your first name was Drake, Blue …”

“It is. Drake and I were born on the same day. We were both named after our grandfather.” Blue grins again. “For a while, I was DW and he was DG—until Grandfather took to calling me Blue.” He rises to his feet and flexes his prosthetic arm. “You know, I think I’m starting to get used to this thing …”

“I’m glad to hear it. All things considered, Blue, you’ve made a remarkable recovery.” The speed of his recovery was the reason that I was called in on the case, as a matter of fact. “Your cousin—he’s the
Peacebringer?”

“Yes. He’s a Hero of the City in his own right. They say that the only reason I’m alive is because Drake used some kind of Kheldian technology to keep me alive. Lucky me.”

I’m not happy with the way Blue sounds when he says that. He doesn’t know it yet, but he could have been released more than a week ago. I had personally insisted that he remain in care for some covert psychological analysis. I wasn’t going to let him go until I was sure that he wasn’t suicidal. I’ve seen too many depowered heroes take that option when they realize their powers are never going to return.

Paragon City owed Blue too much to give him less than the best possible care. And on a personal level, the only reason I’m not rotting in a jail cell as a convicted Rikti spy is because Blue managed to root out the hidden Rikti who had implicated me. Steven Sheridan always pays his debts.

And because of that debt, I’m about to risk my career. “Blue, could you ask your cousin to stop by my office before he picks you up?”

“Sure, Doc. Mind if I ask why?”

“Scientific curiosity, you might say.” It’s not wholly a lie, but it’s not the full truth either. Perhaps I should tell Blue my suspicions, but I don’t want this young man to volunteer to spend the rest of his life in government custody just because of my unspoken fears. He deserves better. “And Blue, take this card.”

He takes it from me with his prosthesis, stunning me again with how naturally he moves with it. I make a mental note that I’m going to have to speak to this Gungnir fellow that Blue says made him the arm. I’d like to have him working with me. He glances at the card. “A support group? You want me to join a support group?”

“Sergeant Hicks and Justin Greene both have been through what you have, Blue. They’ve established a support group to give former heroes a place to go to talk about what they’re going through. I want you to at least think about it.”

“All right, Doc. I’ll think about it.”

“Now go along with you. Nurse Meg is going to walk you through your final round of therapy. You can go home after lunch.”

“Thanks, Doc. What do I owe you?”

“You don’t owe us a damn thing, Blue. We owe you.” Of course it had taken Ms. Liberty herself to convince Billing of that … more specifically she had gone to the hospital board and told them she’d be only too delighted to let her grandfather Statesman know that a former Hero of the City—one who had personally helped save him from the Praetorians—was being asked to pay for his treatment after being maimed in defense of Paragon City and that she was relatively sure he’d like to have words with them as well … “Now off with you!”

I go back to my office and pull up Drake Griffin’s file as I wait for him. Griffin didn’t come to Paragon to be a hero like his cousin; he had come to study the advanced medical technology and become a doctor. His career plans had gotten sidetracked when he had been forced to bind with a Kheldian in order to save its life. In its infinite wisdom—note the sarcasm here please—Paragon City University had decided that the First Rikti Invasion was still too recent to allow a Peacebringer to go to medical school. Griffin had gone on to become an EMT as well as a Hero of the City. A shame; from what I’m able to tell from his file Griffin would make a fine doctor.

By the time I finish reviewing his file, Griffin is standing at my door. “Blue said you wanted to see me, Dr. Sheridan? Is there something wrong with him?”

“Blue’s fine, Mr. Griffin. Have a seat.”

Griffin sits down, and I can tell that he’s nervous though he does his best to hide it. “So why did you want to see me? Not that it’s not an honor to meet one of the greatest scientists in Paragon …”

“Blue’s fine, Mr. Griffin. As a matter of fact, he’s almost too well. Given the nature of his injuries, he should be nowhere near this far along in his recovery.”

“Didn’t they tell you I injected him with some Kheldian nanobots--?”

“Mr. Griffin, please. You know me—by reputation, at least. I’m not a fool. Do you really think I wouldn’t recognize Kheldian technology when I see it—or don’t see it as the case may be?”

Griffin shifts uncomfortably in his seat, but says nothing.

“My most advanced equipment can detect the presence of some kind of micro technology at work in Blue, but it’s not Kheldian. It’s not Rikti, either.” I pause. “I also know it’s not terrestrial.”

“Dr. Sheridian—“

“I’m not interested in an explanation, Mr. Griffin. The less I now the better—for Blue’s sake as well as my own. I suspect.” I stare hard at him. “But do you really think it was wise to inject your cousin with alien technology obtained from one of the most powerful Masterminds in the Rogue Islands?”

Drake Griffin gapes at me in surprise.

“No one else knows about this, Griffin. As far as the official record goes, Blue Battler’s life was saved through the use of Kheldian science. The authorities don’t need to know the truth.”

“I had to,” Drake Griffin says without looking at me. “It was the only way—“

“Again, I don’t want to know.” I stare hard at him. “But I do know. And I’m going to be keeping an eye on both you and Blue. If something happens to him—if this miracle cure of yours backfires—then I’m going to hold you personally responsible, young man! You have to live with what you’ve done, Drake Griffin—and so does Blue Battler. I just hope that none of us have cause to regret your actions.”

“Does he know? Did you tell him?”

“No. And I’m not going to. He doesn’t need to be burdened with this in addition to everything else. But when the time comes, you will tell him.” It’s an order, not a request.

Griffin takes it as such. “Thank you, Doctor Sheridan. I won’t forget this.”

“Neither will I, Griffin. Neither will I.”

---

My COX Fanfiction:


Blue's Assembled Story Links

Aha found it.

Master Gabriel

---

“Thank you for stopping by, Mr. Wagner. I appreciate your willingness to discuss a position with Portal Corporation.”

“It’s no problem, Dr. MacIntyre. And call me Blue. Or Drake.”

“Only if you call me Tina.” Blue smiles at me and I find myself wishing I were at least ten years younger. He’s a fine looking young man … calm down, Tina. No reason to get all starry eyed. It’s not like I hadn’t worked with him before.

“Tina.” He nods and self consciously rubs his prosthetic right arm. “It seems like I have more job offers as an ex-Hero than I ever did before.” He looks at me again. “But I have to admit that I was kind of curious as to why you wanted to offer me a job. Believe me, I’m no scientist.”

“Perhaps not, but you are an explorer.” He’s not the way I remember him. He always used to be so full of life … “You have fine survival skills. And you’re a leader. The heroes of Paragon have done a fine job, and they’re always here for us when we need them, but Portal Corporation needs to learn to stand on its own two feet. My team … my first team …” Brian. More than twenty years later, and I still feel the loss as though it happened yesterday. I still have my work … but I don’t have Brian …

“Are you all right, Tina?”

“I’m fine, Blue.” No sense in tell him of my heartache. Even when he was a Hero of the City Blue Battler couldn’t change the past. “So what do you think?”

Blue shrugged his shoulders. “Ms. Liberty has offered me a position in Longbow, but I’m not sure that I’d be right for that. I was my own boss for too long to be a soldier in someone else’s army … even if it’s a cause I believe in.”

“I see.” There’s a light in his eyes when he says her name, and a certain wistfulness in his voice. I’m almost jealous. It’s been a long time since a man reacted like that to me. The ones that I had met after … they had been good men, but they hadn’t been Brian. And now … now I’m fast heading into what my grandmother would call full-on spinsterhood. “So you might be willing to work for Portal? Even if you would prefer not to be a full time employee, we could use a special consultant.”

“I’m thinking about it. It does feel like a good fit. Something … something that I could do and not feel like a charity case or a cog in someone else’s machine. Maybe … I don’t want to commit to anything just yet, but I’m definitely going to think about it.”

“That’s all I can hope for then.” I smile at him. “Would you like a tour of the facilities before you go? I can even show you the places that we didn’t normally allow Heroes.”

Before Blue can reply, two men come walking up towards us. I recognize one of them as being Detective Selnum, one of the Peregrine Island PPD Hero Contacts. He’s a nice man … and rather handsome. Periodically, he asks me out for coffee. One of these days I may even work up the nerve to accept.

But the look in his eyes tells me he’s not here for a social visit. “Dr. MacIntyre.”

“Detective. How may I help you?”

“We’re not here to talk with you, ma’am.” The other man with Detective Selnum flashes a PPD badge at us. He’s much younger than Selnum, perhaps even younger than Blue. He’s thin, and looks like he smiles a lot, but he’s not smiling now. “I’m Detective Becktrees. King’s Row PPD. We’re here to talk with Mr. Wagner here.”

I see Blue wince as his civilian name is used, but he doesn’t otherwise react. “What can I do for you, Detective?”

“We’re going to ask you to come along quietly, Mr. Wagner. You’re under arrest.”

“Arrest?” I blurt out. “What’s the charge?”

Becktrees looks at me, and then at Blue. “Murder.”

---

My COX Fanfiction:


Blue's Assembled Story Links

*cue suspenseful music*

---

He doesn’t look like a killer.

Drake Wagner aka Blue Battler aka “Blue”. A former Hero of the City deactivated when he lost his armor, his weapon, and his powers. His days in King’s Row were before my time, but judging by the cheers he got as he was led into the Station he’s not been forgotten.

“Do you think he did it?” I ask Freitag as Blue’s statement is taken by a uniform.

“DNA doesn’t lie, Becktrees.” Freitag states. “His was found at the crime scene. You know the kind of work that Crey does. Many depowered Capes have been known to go rogue when trying to regain their abilities.”

“He just doesn’t seem the type. My gut tells me he’s not our man.”

“’Guts’ are no replacement for proven forensics science.”

The uniform finishes up with Blue, hands him a cup of coffee, and walks over to us. “He’s not our guy.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He’s got an ironclad alibi. The night it all went down he was in therapy with Hicks and Greene’s support group.”

“Kind of hard to commit murder when you’ve got both a cop and a former Cape as your alibi.” I glance over at Freitag. He’s a good cop—a little too by the book for my tastes, but he’s not the kind of guy who’ll stay married to a theory once it’s proven false.

“Let’s lay our cards on the table with Mr. Wagner. Perhaps he can offer some suggestions.” If he’s disappointed he doesn’t show it.

We walk over to Blue. He finishes his coffee and looks at us. “So what’s the verdict? Do I need to lawyer up?”

Freitag doesn’t rise to the bait. He walks over to his computer and pulls up the case file. “Ordinarily I wouldn’t be showing this information to a civilian, but given your … background….”

“No offense, but I hope you’re not leading up to a job offer. It seems like everyone I’ve met recently has wanted me to go to work for them.” Blue’s grinning as he says that. It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile since I met him.

“Orpheus Industries. A biotech firm … in King’s Row?” He looks at us. “That’s new. Most of that stuff winds up in Bricks or Talos.”

“It’s a startup company,” I tell him. “And the rent here’s a lot cheaper than it is in Bricks.” That’s an understatement. With the garment trade gone, there’s not much business to speak of in the Row at all. Crey’s got a few offices, but bars and gun shops tend to be our most flourishing enterprises. Orpheus had gotten their building for a song.

“So … any unusual stories about them? Odd deliveries the dead of night? Suspicious characters working for them? Mystic ceremonies? Walking vegetables?”

“Not that I know of. Freitag?”

“They hadn’t been in business long. They had some of the usual run ins with the Skulls, but nothing serious. Skulls will kill, but they don’t do anything like this. It was a slaughter, Blue.”

“How many?”

“Six.”

“Six people?” Blue’s eyes get hard. I can see the Hero in his eyes. You can take the costume and the ID away, but you can’t take away what made you do it in the first place. “How did they die?”

“Burnt to death. Scorch marks were on the floor. The bodies showed signs of severe burns consistent with the use of a Blaster’s Fire Sword.”

“Six people.” His robotic fist clenches tightly. “Six people killed in a way made it to look that I was the culprit.”

“The hazards of being a Hero, Blue. You know that.”

“Gungnir. I was wondering if I had wasted my only telephone call.” Blue reaches out and clasps the hand of the tall man that walks toward him. “Good to see you again, buddy.”

“Gungnir.” Freitag’s eyes narrow as he looks up at the tall Blaster with the long hair and beard. He’s tolerant of Capes that work with the system, but even I know that Gung has mostly dropped off the official radar years ago. He’s still around, but he doesn’t work with official channels. He’s about as close to rogue as you can get without being arrested for it. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Someone has to keep an eye on you. It’s not like I can trust the PPD to find the right guy.”

I feel my own hackles rise at that. I can see why Gungnir’s not popular with my fellow cops.

“You know anything about Orpheus, Gung?”

“I know more than the PPD … which isn’t saying much.” He tosses a DVD to Freitag. “Video surveillance the night of the crime scene.”

“We got the video too. It didn’t show much of anything. Given that Blue’s armor had Phase and Stealth, we assumed he just snuck in that way.”

“Um, you guys did know that I lost my powers and my armor?” Blue points out. “If I had the power to do that, why would I have gone rogue?”

Freitag has the sense to look sheepish. Me, I just keep m y head down and hope no one notices me blushing.

“Gung, why didn’t the tapes show an intruder?”

“The first thing I suspected was the real tapes had been replaced. Given that Orpheus is a Crey front—“

“Orpheus is independent,” I interrupt. “There’s no paper trail connecting them at all to Crey.”

Gung rolls his eyes. “And you know this how?”

“We ran a check—“

“Using Crey software on Crey built computers.”

“Everything’s a Crey plot to you, Gungnir,” Freitag retorts. “If there’s not enough cream in your coffee you think the Countess is behind it.”

“Guys, you’re not going to win this argument. Trust me.” Blue raises his hands. “Besides, he’s probably right. A biotech firm in King’s Row that comes out of nowhere? With my DNA being found on the scene? The likelihood of Crey not being involved in Orpheus is about the same as the possibility that I’m not going to wear blue tomorrow.”

“So you’re thinking that the Countess set up this corporation for the sole purpose of implicating Blue in a crime?”

“Even I’m not that paranoid,” Gungnir shrugs. “Orpheus was set up a few years ago, long before Blue lost his powers. Strange as it seems, this is one of those rare cases when I don’t think the Crey have anything to do with the crime.”

“You said at first you thought the tapes had been replaced,” Blue said. “That implies they weren’t.”

“No. They weren’t.” Gungnir turns to Freitag. “Put the DVD in. The quality isn’t what I’d like, but you should see what happened.”

Grumbling, my partner does what he’s told.

The exterior cameras are what’s shown first. There’s a moment of static, but otherwise nothing. At least I don’t see anything …

“What the--?” Blue turns to Gungnir.

“You saw it then.” The tall Blaster looks oddly proud of him.

“Yeah. The time stamp. There’s a jump.” Blue replays the scene. “A fifteen second jump.”

“How did you spot that?” Freitag asks the former Hero with a trace of respect in his eyes.

“If you’d ever had to hunt for hostages or clues in Orange Bagel you’d get pretty good at spotting the little details.”

“Orange Bagel?” I blink.

“The COT city. Underground.”

“Oranbega,” Gungnir says in an exasperated tone of voice. “As often as you’ve been there, Blue, you’d learn how to pronounce it.”

“Isn’t that what I said?” Blue asks with a smile. “So the time jump …” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “EMP?”

“EMP,” Gungnir confirms. “Small, not enough to fry the camera, but enough to take it offline for a few seconds to give the intruder a chance to get inside the facility.”

“What about the internal cameras?” Blue asks.

“We checked on that, but they’d been fried,” I told him. “No recoverable data at all.”

“That right, Gung?”

“Almost.” For the first time since he walked in, Gungnir looks uncomfortable. “I got a single image.”

“Let’s see it. Maybe I’ll recognize this guy.”

“Blue … maybe you shouldn’t watch this.”

“What?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Whoever this is, they killed six people in a way to make it look like I was the one behind it. It may be someone I put away. Someone who’s carrying a grudge. You may not know who it is. The cops may not know him. But if there’s a chance I know him, then I have to watch. I’m a Hero—was a Hero, Gung. I’ve seen death before. Let me see it.”

Gungnir says nothing more. He just leans over and presses the play button on Freitag’s computer.

The image isn’t very clear. It a man wearing a trench coat and hat, but all we have is a rear shot . He’s raising his arm to bring a flaming sword down on a cowering scientist …

Blue gasps like he’s been shot.

The arm is covered in blue armor!

Gungnir lays a hand on Blue’s shoulder.

“My—my arm.” Blue glances down at the metallic right limb attached to his shoulder and back at the screen. “That’s my arm! He has my arm! My real arm!”

---

My COX Fanfiction:


Blue's Assembled Story Links

This is not how I wanted to die.

Through the green mists I can see the Circle of Thorns chanting in their harsh, cruel voices. I can see their demonic cohorts and spectral allies watching me—watching us as we writhe helplessly in the grip of their eldritch might. I also see my fellow prisoners, each struggling in their own way to free themselves from the power that holds him.

Green Justice—well, Justin Greene—exchanges desperate glances with Officer Hicks from the Outbreak Zone. Together, the two of them run a Support Program for other Heroes who have lost their powers. Rumor has it that they’re more than just friends, and perhaps that’s why they seem to have eyes only for each other in this madness.

Or perhaps it’s because they’re the reason we’re in this mess in the first place.

“Desmond, don’t do this! We’re your friends! Don’t do this! Let us go!” Greene should have known that the Death Mage leading the chant wasn’t Desmond anymore. Desmond’s quest to restore his powers had led him to make a bargain with the COT—he hadn’t known until it was too late that he wasn’t just selling his friends—he was selling his soul.

“Fool! Desmond Steele no longer exists!” the Death Mage laughs harshly. “His body is ours now! His soul writhes in torment, feeding the Infernal Prince who gives us our power! You will join him, and then your bodies will be used to lure in heroes who have not lost their powers! Their might will become ours, and the world will belong to Oranbega once more!”

Phillipa Meraux eyes blaze with hatred. Clandestine had lost her powers as a result of a battle between the Rikti and the COT. Somehow, it seemed cosmically unjust that she should lose her life—and more—to them.

As for me, I’m afraid. I don’t show it. I can’t. I’m just Jake Montoya now, but I didn’t show fear in front of the Clockwork King when he cost me my leg in my Red Tiger days. I’m not about to let these Robe Wearing punks have the satisfaction of seeing me sweat now.

“Let the others go. I’m sure your Prince would be more than happy to just have me.” He’s writhing in the air like the rest of us, but Drake Wagner—the Blue Battler—hasn’t said a word until now.

“We’ll have you and the others as well, Wagner!” the Death Mage laughs. “Your bargaining position is highly dubious to say the least!”

“I’ll fight you. We’ll all fight you. You may be able to steal our bodies, but you won’t be able to hold our souls. We’re not like Steele. We didn’t make a bargain. You can kill us—you can even take our bodies—but our souls—you won’t be able to send those to your Master. Once we’re dead, our souls will go elsewhere.” He pauses. “Let the others go and I’ll submit.”

“Damn it, Blue!” I roar. “Don’t you dare play the hero here!”

“We’re all heroes here!” Hicks cries. “Take me! Release Justin and the others and I’ll submit!”

“No! Take me!” Greene gasps.

“Me!” Phillipa screams. “Take me!”

“I stopped the Envoy of Shadows!” Blue shouts. “The others—they’re heroes, but I’m the one your Prince has a beef with! Imagine how much power he’d grant you for delivering him my soul!”

The Death Mage pauses—and he’s struck in the chest by a blast of blue energy!

“Blue!” A woman appears out of nowhere, a Targeting Drone hovering around her head. She’s wearing blue armor—armor that strongly resembles the kind that Blue Battler once wore.

“Bluette!” Blue’s surprise is unmistakable. “Get out of here! You’re no match for a Temple full of COT!”

We all fall to the floor, the binding magic shattered.

For the first time, I see fear on his face—not for himself, but rather for the heroine who calls herself Blue Battlette.

“You’re right!” Bluette tosses some caltrops on the floor and blasts another one of the COT. “But I brought some backup!”

“It won’t be enough!” the Death Mage cries. “Destroy her!”

Greene tackles one of the Thorn Casters. Hicks karate chops the wrist of one of the Soul Mages, knocking the staff out of his hand. Phillipa sweeps the feet out from a started Behemoth Lord.

I grab a rock and throw it at the Death Mage, cursing the Clockwork King again for the loss of the leg that would have given me a fighting chance at taking one of these punks down.

Blue climbs to his feet, his blue metallic arm glinting in the torch light. “Be careful, Bluette! Where’s that backup of yours?!”

“Right here, Blue!”

At first I think it’s a Behemoth Overlord talking as the sound comes from the general direction of two of the giant winged monstrosities. Then the Overlord doubles over as though someone’s punched him in the stomach and is literally knocked into mid-air.

“Painstake!” Blue shouts in relief. “You’re here!”

“Yeah, you know me, Blue. Can’t let you have all this fun to yourself!” The big ax-wielding Tank slams his weapon into the other Overlord.

Even with the Tank and Blaster, we’re still sorely outnumbered and outgunned. We’re a bunch of ex-heroes. By rights, we should have done what the typical hostage does in this situation and run for our lives.

But we don’t. We can’t.

Inside, we’re still heroes.

“You! You’re the cause of this!” the Death Mage wearing Steele’s body shrieks, glaring at Blue. “You’ll pay for this interruption! I’ll rip the soul from your body myself!”

Tenebrous Tentacles of living darkness wrap themselves around Blue Battler, immobilizing him.

With a strength born of madness, the Death Mage shoves Blue Battlette to one side and leaps on the struggling Blue Battler. “And thus I dispatch you!”

The sword is short, curved, and black as night. It stabs through Blue’s chest, piercing through to the other side.

“Blue!” With a roar of anger, the big Tank wades through Demons and Robed Mages as though they’re not there. “You son of a—you killed Blue!”

The Death Mage cackles. “Do what you will; Blue Battler will battle no more!”

Painstake’s reply is a massive sweep of his ax that sends the Death Mage flying.

“Blue! Blue!” Bluette removes her helmet and rushes to the side of the fallen man. “You can’t be dead! You can’t be!”

I curse the lost leg that leaves me limping my way to the fallen man. I know before I get there its too late. Mortal flesh can’t withstand the power of the dark blade of a hate-maddened Death Mage.

Phillipa and Hicks stand guard over the rest of us. Greene bends down and begins to whisper what words of comfort he can offer to the crying Bluette.

“Thanks for the save,” I tell the big Tank.

“Wish we coulda been here sooner,” Painstake says, taking his own helmet off. “I was helping a lowbie hero save a Fortuneteller from the COT when I found out about this thing going down. Bluette was the only backup I could find. We got here as soon as we could—“ He sighs. “But it looks like it wasn’t soon enough.”

“It’s not your fault. If it’s any consolation, I think that he probably preferred going out like this.” I kneel down by the fallen hero. “At least he wound up better off than my old buddy the Invisible Falcon.”

There’s a gaping wound on Blue’s chest. There’s no blood, but its stained and bubbling with black energy.

Bluette gasps “Look!”

The black energy fades, devoured by a green light. The green light glows brightly for a second, then fades away, leaving not even a scar to show that Blue had ever been injured.

Blue groans and opens his eyes. “Oh, man. What the hell just happened to me?!”

---

My COX Fanfiction:


Blue's Assembled Story Links

“How are you, Blue?”

Cold, I want to say, but don’t. I haven’t been warm since I woke up without my powers. All my life I burnt with an inner fire, but the Rikti put it out.

No, it’s worse than that. The Rikti stole it from me and someone else is using it now—someone is using it to kill.

“Blue?” Her name is Blue Battlette. At least, that’s the code name she took when she decided to become a Cape. She says that I rescued her from Perez Park one night after all her friends had been killed or worse. She took that name to honor me.

I don’t remember that night.

There have been so many nights. So many people that I saved. At first, you remember all of them—every person you save, every one that you fail to save. You remember their faces, their names. How they look at you when you arrive in the nick of time—the way the survivors look at you when you’re just a moment too late to save someone else …

But then you start to forget.

It shames me that I don’t remember the night that meant so much to Bluette. She’s not a Hero of the City yet, but she’s done more than her fair share of rescues and arrests. She shouldn’t still look at me like that—shouldn’t look at me like I was still a Hero of the City, still the man who had been capable of saving her life.

I can’t save anyone, anymore. Not even myself.

“Blue?” Bluette takes her helmet off and looks at me. “Are you all right?”

No, I want to say. I’m an Ex-Hero whose amputated right arm is being used to commit murder and mayhem. I just found out that the technology that my Kheldian cousin Drake Griffin used to save my life is potent enough to heal me from a near-fatal magic-based injury. I don’t have time for self-pity or angst, but it's almost impossible to think about anything other than what I've lost.

I want to say that, but I don’t. She won’t understand. She can’t. I pray that she never has to.

So I kiss her instead.

She’s warm and she’s beautiful and she wants me. It’s almost enough to rekindle the fire that’s been dead in me since I woke up after I lost my arm.

Almost.

After a moment, she stiffens against me and we part. Her eyes are wide and dark and she says nothing for a moment. “You’re not going to let me help you do this, are you?”

“No. I’m sorry, Bluette. I can’t. This is my responsibility. It’s my power. It’s my arm. I have to take care of this.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed, Blue.” She puts her helmet back on, the helmet that totally hides her face. “You’re going to go after whoever it is with nothing but a metal arm and some extra healing and you’re going to die. You’re going to die, and he’s going to go on killing because you’re too proud to accept my help.”

I don’t say anything. She’s not a Hero of the City. If he’s as powerful as I think he may be, she won’t stand a chance. He’ll kill her.

I won’t let that happen. I’ve lost friends … and lovers. I won’t lose anyone else if I can help it.

“To hell with you then, Blue! Get yourself killed! I don’t care! I don’t!”

She rockets into the sky, activating her cloak of invisibility as she does so.

“Painstake, I know you’re up there. Come on down, please.”

The ground shakes as the big tank jumps down from the rooftop he’d been hiding on. He looks at me, his face hidden beneath his own helmet. “She’s right, Blue. Ya can’t do this alone, bro. You’re going to need backup.”

“Maybe.” In fact, I have a plan, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet. “I could use your help right now, old friend.”

“Sure thing, Blue. Whatcha need?”

“That Fortune Teller. The one who told you that I was in danger. Where can I find her?”

---

My COX Fanfiction:


Blue's Assembled Story Links

Painstake told me that the Fortune Teller had mentioned that she spends a lot of time in Pocket D if he would like to buy her a drink sometime. Having rescued my share of Fortune Tellers in my career, I could fully understand Pain’s eagerness to accompany me, but I told him that I could handle it on my own.

Besides, I didn’t need a babysitter. Just because I don’t have powers any longer doesn’t mean that I can’t take care of myself.

More or less.

I do have to admit that I wondered if the bouncers were going to allow me to take the elevator up to the D. True, I had seen what looked like civilians there before, but I had no idea how they managed to get in and out as I had never seen them enter or leave the elevators. I did my best to hide my nervousness though, and just smiled at the bouncer as I jumped through the parked truck in King’s Row.

“Good to see you again, sir. Go right in. We were told to expect you.”

“DJ Zero?” I ask in surprise. I had spoken to him once or twice, and done him a favor—man, if I never see another Redcap again it’ll be too soon!—but given how many pies DJ’s got his fingers in, I certainly didn’t expect him to remember me.

“Someone else, sir. She said she was expecting you.”

Oh right. Guess it was kind of silly to expect that I was going to surprise a Fortune Teller.

“Thank you.” I take a deep breath, and I step into the elevator.

I’m sure it’s my imagination, but it feels like everyone is watching me when I step out. Robot arm notwithstanding, no one is going to mistake me for a hero now. Even though I wasn’t really all that well known, I can tell by the looks of pity that some of the heroes give me as I walk past them that they know either who I am or what I am.

I hate it.

I don’t want pity. I want information. I have to find Patchwork—he has my arm, he has my power. Everything he does—every one he kills—that’s blood on my hands.

I have to stop him. I will stop him.

I walk over to one of my favorite bartenders. “Hey, Isaac.”

“Hey, Blue! What can I get you?” He doesn’t ask a question about my civilian clothing or the metal arm. Guess that’s why he works at Pocket D; nothing phases him.

“I’m looking for a woman, Isaac.”

“You came to the right place, darling,” a Carnival of Shadows Ring Mistress said, sitting down beside me. She’s sipping her drink through a small straw that fits through her mask.

“Another time,” I tell her with a smile, feeling my skin crawl. I know about the Carnies. I know what they are. Trust me; I’d sooner date Barracuda than spend an evening with one of them. I turn back to Isaac. “I’m looking for a Fortune Teller. Her name’s Cassandra. I was told she might be here.”

“You’re one of hers, then?” I can hear the pout in the Ring Mistress’ voice, but of course the mask doesn’t move. “Perhaps we can play some other day. Have a ticket to one of our shows. They’re all the rage you know.”

“Thanks.” I take the ticket with my metal hand. “Tell Vanessa that Blue says hello.”

“Indeed.” The Ring Mistress glides away, heading in the direction of some young hero I’d never met before. “Hello, darling. Would you care to dance …?”

“Um, Blue …?”

“Yes, Isaac?”

“You might want to put that out. DJ doesn’t allow smoking here …”

“What?” I glance down at the ticket … and it’s on fire. “Now how did that happen?” I toss it into a glass of water. “Cute Carnie trick. She must have known who I was.”

“I wonder …” Isaac mutters.

“So … Cassandra?” I prompt him. “You know her? Have you seen her?”

“Cassie? Sure. She comes in here all the time. She’s probably upstairs playing poker right now.”

Poker? Who plays poker with a Fortune Teller?

“Thanks, Isaac.” I head upstairs.

There’s a civilian woman sitting at a table with an Arachnos soldier, a Council Warwolf, and a Longbow Warden. I don’t see anyone in a Fortune Teller’s outfit, but maybe they know where she’s at.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a Fortune Teller named Cassandra …”

“Fortune Teller?” the Warwolf growls.

The Longbow and Arachnos soldier spit out curses and the woman glares at me as she throws her cards down on the table. “Thanks a lot, Blue. I was really going to clean up on this hand.”

She picks up her chips. “Sorry, boys. Looks like I’m going to have to cut this short.”

“If DJ Zero allowed fighting here,” the Warwolf growled. "I would--"

“Some other time, fuzzy,” the Fortune Teller smiles at him—surprisingly, she’s not really that attractive. Don’t get me wrong; she’s not ugly or anything, but she looks more like the people we rescue—that I used to rescue—than the heroines I’ve fought beside. "Come on, Blue."

“I wouldn’t have suckered them into a game if I’d been wearing my outfit,” she tells me as we sit down at the bar. “The usual, Isaac.”

“You knew I was coming, right?”

“Sure.”

“I have two questions.”

“Actually, you have three. But the two you’re thinking about now are: why did I start the game with them knowing you were coming and how did the Circle of Thorns manage to capture me given that I had to know they were after me?”

“Exactly.”

“I know the future. That doesn’t mean I can change it.”

“What about free will? Self determination?”

“There’s that too.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Sure it does. Take you, Blue.” She takes a sip of her drink and looks at me. “If I had met you—if I had told you the day you first put that armor on what you were going to lose—what it would cost you—would you have still done it?”

“Yes,” I answer instinctively.

“Why?”

“Because—“I close my eyes and think about the people I’ve saved. The people I’ve lost. The things I’ve done. The places I’ve been. “It was worth it.”

“And there’s your free will. You chose to do what you did. You would choose it again if you had the chance to do so. I knew you were going to show up before I won the big score, but I still did it because I love the game. I knew the Circle of Thorns were going to take me but I still chose to go to Perez Park because I knew it was necessary.” She takes a drink. “If I hadn’t been there to talk to Painstake—“

“If you hadn’t, then the Circle of Thorns would have killed us all.”

“Exactly.” She finishes her drink. “Fate—and self-determination.”

“You know why I’m here.”

“I believe we covered that.”

“So where can I find him—Patchwork?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“The whole fate thing? I have to figure it out myself?”

“You already know what you need to do to find him, Blue.”

“I do?”

“Think about it, Blue. King’s Row. Stolen body parts. Do I really need to draw you a diagram? Hit me, Isaac.”

“Vahzilok. He’s one of the Vahzilok.”

Cassandra takes a drink and raises her glass to me. “I knew you were a smart one. You know what that means, don’t you? You know how you’re going to find him.”

“Yes. Hit me, Isaac.”

“You don’t drink, Blue.” Isaac says, surprised.

“Hit him, Isaac. He’s going to need it.”

“Why?”

I take the shot and drain it in one gulp. The liquor burns down my throat and almost—almost—makes the words I’m going to say bearable. “Because there’s only one way I’m going to find Patchwork, Isaac. I have to talk to Dr. Vahzilok.”

---

My COX Fanfiction:


Blue's Assembled Story Links

It takes me three days—and calling in more favors than I care to remember—to find where they’re keeping Dr. Vahzilok.

Vahzilok.

I had fought him, of course. In my time I fought pretty much everything there was to fight in Paragon, but it seemed like the Vahzilok were my own personal nightmare. I couldn’t turn a corner without having one of his reanimated corpses vomiting on me.

Cleaning off zombie vomit from my battle armor isn’t exactly one of the fondest memories I have of my early career.

I see Ms. Liberty talking to a young hero as he trains up with her, and I find myself thinking about her … and her offer again. I don’t like sitting on the sidelines. From the time I woke up in the hospital after losing my arm until I woke up after the Circle of Thorns tried to make a demonic sacrifice of me, I had been on automatic pilot. Reactive rather than proactive.

Ironic.

I have to almost die to feel really alive again.

She’s right about one thing; I can’t stay on the sidelines. I’m not cut out to be a civilian. One way or the other, I have to get back in the game again.

But that’s something for me to think about later. Now I have to convince the Vanguard Guard that I should be admitted into the Vanguard Building and be given access to a lab that officially doesn’t exist.

For my next trick I’ll sit the Clockwork King and Blue Steel down and have them work out their differences through a game of “Twister.”

“I’m sorry, sir. You’ll have to move along.”

“I’m here to see the Dark Watcher.”

“I’m afraid you don’t qualify to be admitted to this building, sir.”

“Tell the Watcher that it’s a matter of life and death—and that unless he wants to see a story hitting the airways about Vanguard’s latest scientist he’ll talk to me—and no, I’m not talking about Argot.”

“Just a moment, sir.” The guard steps aside and puts a hand to his ear as he begins muttering something. He stiffens in surprise and turns to me. “Go right in, Mr. Wagner. They’re expecting you.”

“’They’?”

“Lady Grey will be there as well.”

Well, well. For an ex-Hero I was suddenly Mr. Popular.

I go into the building and the Watcher and Lady Grey are waiting for me. Dark Watcher is an old man—but with obvious health and vigor that belie the age of his features. Lady Grey—she looks to be no more than early 30s at most, but her eyes—her eyes are older than Statesman’s.

“Mr. Wagner,” Lady Grey says in a clipped English accent. “We’d been expecting your visit. Watcher, if you please?”

This is far from the first time I’ve been teleported, but the Dark Watcher’s teleportation is like falling into darkness. It’s cold and black and for a brief moment I don’t think I exist.

It feels like waking up in your own coffin, to be honest.

The Watcher’s hand is on Lady Grey’s shoulder when I can see again. She doesn’t notice it, but I do. He takes just a second longer than he should have to let go of her.

“You were rather clumsy, Wagner. Gaussian’s people noticed you were nosing around two days ago.” Watcher’s accent is hard to place, but it’s not British.

“Then you could have found me instead of waiting for me to show up at your doorstep, right? If you had, maybe some people who aren’t alive any longer would be.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Wagner?” Lady Grey’s eyes dart from the Watcher’s face back to mine. The voice was cold and disciplined, but not unfeeling.

“I’m not here to play whose cape is longer, folks, so let’s just skip all the clever wordplay, okay?” I told them about Patchwork, about my arm. “I need to see Vahzilok, and you have him. If anyone can tell me where to find Patchwork, it’s him.”

“Dr. Vahzilok’s work has great potential for Vanguard and the defense of the Earth,” Lady Grey told me. “I am not sure that this merits interrupting his work.”

“Patchwork is killing people!” I shouted in her face. “He’s killing people and he’s using MY power to do it! Maybe he’s not a Rikti-class threat, but that doesn’t his victims are any less dead than someone who falls to a Rikti blaster.”

“Mr. Wagner, I can sympathize—“

“No, I don’t think you can, Lady Grey.” I’m clutching my hand—my right metal hand—so hard that I can almost feel it. “MY POWER is being used to kill people! It’s my responsibility to stop this! I will stop this. Either you work with me or I go through you. This isn’t open to debate.”

I glare at Lady Grey. I know that I don’t have a chance of overpowering her. I’m an ex-Hero with no weapons, no power, and no hope of taking her down even if she let me try without summoning her Vanguard soldiers. I can’t win. I know I can’t win.

But I will win—or die trying.

There’s no other option.

“Let him see Vahzilok,” Watcher says in a whisper.

Lady Grey turns to him in surprise. “Devon?”

“I work with Vanguard now, but there was a time when I too was a hero of Paragon. We say that Vanguard is here to save the world—what is the world if not for the people who inhabit it? Let the Blue Battler follow his destiny.”

“Very well then.” Lady Grey turns back to me, and I can see that I’m not exactly going to be on her Christmas card list this year. “Mr. Wagner, you may speak with Dr. Vahzilok. But Vanguard will not coerce him to help you. You must convince him yourself.”

It’s not much, but I’ll take it. “Thank you.”

“Very well then, Blue Battler,” and I notice again that the Watcher has started to refer to me by my real—I mean, my old codename—and I feel … pleased for the recognition of who I was. “Come with me to the abode of monsters.”

The Watcher touches my shoulder and the world fades to black.

---

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