She smoothed down a sheet of paper on the kitchen table, stared at it for a moment, then picked up her pen and began to write. Someone had to know where she would be-it would break her mother's heart if she left without saying goodbye, and she knew that her dad couldn't take another loss after Emmy's death. They had to know she'd be okay. She tried to keep the note from sounding too ominous, but there it was: they were on the brink of war, and she was going to go try to stop it.
--------------------
Dear Mom and Dad,
I don't know how to tell you this, but in my work for the Empire, I have discovered that Emperor Cole intends to
invade another dimension, "Primal Earth". This dimension's Hamidon is under control and is not considered a
threat. Imagine, a world without fear of the Hamidon! It's a chaotic place, but with a little work and help from us,
that should be no obstacle to turning it into a paradise.
I believe the Emperor intends to transfer our people to that dimension for their safety and protection. However,
he plans to obliterate all of that dimension's metahumans and take over complete control first, and is preparing to
dispatch a large force of War Works to ensure that this happens.
I believe in Emperor Cole and in Praetoria, but I can't stand by and allow so many people to die. Perhaps there is
a way to ensure the surrender of this "Primal Earth", or maybe we can negotiate an understanding with them that
would accomplish the same goal, that of moving our people to a safe home.
Provost Marchand believes that if he can send people over there as "ambassadors", and show them that we're
people just like them, perhaps we can find a way to a better solution, one that doesn't involve all the violence and
horror of war. They believe we are evil and think that we want to destroy them all-I've seen it myself, when I
encountered some of their "Longbow" and "Arachnos". If no one tries to change their opinion, they'll keep
thinking that.
As requested by the Provost, I will be going to a place called "Paragon City" to see what I can do to convince the
people of "Primal Earth" that allowing us to transfer to their dimension peacefully would be of benefit to everyone
involved. The Emperor's plan is sound, but the execution is flawed. We don't need to be enemies with these
people-they haven't done anything to harm us, and if we show them that we mean them no harm, I'm sure they'll be
reasonable about it.
I may not be able to do anything to stop the Emperor's plan, but I have to try. I love you, and I hope I'll see you
again someday. Until then, please keep me in your hearts, and know that I will do my best to be a credit to you
and to the Empire.
Your Loving Daughter,
Saya Leigh Brighton
--------------------
She signed with a flourish, then folded the note in half and wrote "Mom & Dad" on it, leaving it standing up on the table where they'd see it when they came down for breakfast in the morning. Lifting her small backpack, she began to walk out of their apartment when she passed a photograph on the wall that gave her pause.
It had been taken fourteen years ago. She was ten years old, a little on the chubby side, with a long braid of black hair and a bright blue dress that matched her eyes. Next to her was Emmy, eight years old, opening her birthday presents. Saya had been so proud of the necklace she'd saved up all her allowance money for almost a year to buy-a silver locket set with a tiny chip of aquamarine, her sister's birthstone. Emmy had loved it, had worn it from that day on, refusing to take it off even when she slept. It was her good luck charm, she said.
It hadn't given her enough luck to protect her when a few Resistance members had decided to attack a group of police officers patrolling the park near their apartment. A stray shot had hit her in the chest, killing her instantly. Saya didn't remember it happening-she had been through enough therapy to know that she'd blocked the traumatic event from her memory, to keep it out of her nightmares and to keep herself from reliving it.
She lifted one finger, stroked her baby sister's smiling face, so perfectly preserved in the picture. "'Bye, Emmy," she whispered. "Wish me luck, okay?"
Settling her pack on her shoulder again, she slipped out the door.
When she arrived at the rendezvous point under Keyes Island, she spoke with an officer sent by Provost Marchand. He handed her a small wallet, and she checked inside, ensuring that there was a small but sufficient amount of the Primal Earth currency and papers identifying her and documenting her life. A photo on the ID she was issued reflected her face back at her-calm, confident, a little stern. She nodded as the officer explained about the different groups threatening the stability of Primal Earth, making mental notes. Finally, the officer saluted her, wished her luck, and opened the door for her.
Thanking him, she stepped through into a dark hallway. The only sounds were the tapping of her feet on the metal catwalk, the sounds of running water in the pipes, and her own breathing and heartbeat in her ears. This was her last glimpse of home, she thought-not the stars she so loved watching from Tiberian Bluff, not her parents' faces, not her friends. Just the dark underbelly of Keyes Island. She marched swiftly down the spiral staircase at the end of the hall and stepped into a room bathed in the blue glow of a huge, circular portal.
Awestruck, she gazed at the device. Large computer banks stood around it, with busy scientists and technicians checking controls, making notes, adjusting things. Near the ramp that led into the portal, she spotted a few familiar faces, and as she strode towards them she knew she was grateful to Marchand for calling them in to say goodbye.
She stopped in front of Interrogator Washington first, locking eyes with the man and then shaking his hand firmly. He recalled their time together, mentioned the aftermath of Cleopatra's betrayal. She wished him luck dealing with Praetor White and promised that when the time came, she'd do what was best for Praetoria. After all, she thought, how could she do less? It was her home. He clapped her on the shoulder and sent her on.
IVy, the Clockwork robot she'd rescued from Metronome and had reprogrammed so that she could use her abilities to help the people of Praetoria instead of just filing their complaints, was next. "I have helped two hundred and forty five people since we last met, Spectrolite!" she announced, her metallic voice sounding cheerful as always. "Great work, IVy," Saya praised her. She listened to a few messages that had been recorded by citizens who'd been helped by IVy, and felt pride warm her heart. She had given them another resource that would help protect them from the Syndicate and the Resistance. She thanked IVy and told her to keep up the good work, then turned to face Chance McKnight.
A smile creased the old soldier's face for a moment before disappearing into his customary gruffness. "We've been on a very difficult path, haven't we?" he greeted her. He told her that he had been assigned to a special squad dealing with the Syndicate, and she expressed her condolences for his situation. He knew what it was like to lose a family, although he'd at least be in the same dimension as his wife and child. She promised to come back someday and have a drink with him, talk over their experiences. He clasped her hand warmly in both of his, and they told each other to stay safe.
Too soon, she was facing the portal. She took a deep breath, steeled herself not to look back. Her eyes teared up as she thought about those she was leaving behind, but she didn't let the tears fall. She had a job to do.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and stepped through the portal, tingling as she passed through into a new world.
City of Heroes taught me that when the world is burning, you don't just stand by and watch, you grab a fire extinguisher and do whatever you can to stop it-even if it's not much at all. Sign the petition to keep City of Heroes alive HERE.
@MissKyo, Leader of the Teamsters coalition on Protector
She smoothed down a sheet of paper on the kitchen table, stared at it for a moment, then picked up her pen and began to write. Someone had to know where she would be-it would break her mother's heart if she left without saying goodbye, and she knew that her dad couldn't take another loss after Emmy's death. They had to know she'd be okay. She tried to keep the note from sounding too ominous, but there it was: they were on the brink of war, and she was going to go try to stop it.
--------------------
Dear Mom and Dad,
I don't know how to tell you this, but in my work for the Empire, I have discovered that Emperor Cole intends to
invade another dimension, "Primal Earth". This dimension's Hamidon is under control and is not considered a
threat. Imagine, a world without fear of the Hamidon! It's a chaotic place, but with a little work and help from us,
that should be no obstacle to turning it into a paradise.
I believe the Emperor intends to transfer our people to that dimension for their safety and protection. However,
he plans to obliterate all of that dimension's metahumans and take over complete control first, and is preparing to
dispatch a large force of War Works to ensure that this happens.
I believe in Emperor Cole and in Praetoria, but I can't stand by and allow so many people to die. Perhaps there is
a way to ensure the surrender of this "Primal Earth", or maybe we can negotiate an understanding with them that
would accomplish the same goal, that of moving our people to a safe home.
Provost Marchand believes that if he can send people over there as "ambassadors", and show them that we're
people just like them, perhaps we can find a way to a better solution, one that doesn't involve all the violence and
horror of war. They believe we are evil and think that we want to destroy them all-I've seen it myself, when I
encountered some of their "Longbow" and "Arachnos". If no one tries to change their opinion, they'll keep
thinking that.
As requested by the Provost, I will be going to a place called "Paragon City" to see what I can do to convince the
people of "Primal Earth" that allowing us to transfer to their dimension peacefully would be of benefit to everyone
involved. The Emperor's plan is sound, but the execution is flawed. We don't need to be enemies with these
people-they haven't done anything to harm us, and if we show them that we mean them no harm, I'm sure they'll be
reasonable about it.
I may not be able to do anything to stop the Emperor's plan, but I have to try. I love you, and I hope I'll see you
again someday. Until then, please keep me in your hearts, and know that I will do my best to be a credit to you
and to the Empire.
Your Loving Daughter,
Saya Leigh Brighton
--------------------
She signed with a flourish, then folded the note in half and wrote "Mom & Dad" on it, leaving it standing up on the table where they'd see it when they came down for breakfast in the morning. Lifting her small backpack, she began to walk out of their apartment when she passed a photograph on the wall that gave her pause.
It had been taken fourteen years ago. She was ten years old, a little on the chubby side, with a long braid of black hair and a bright blue dress that matched her eyes. Next to her was Emmy, eight years old, opening her birthday presents. Saya had been so proud of the necklace she'd saved up all her allowance money for almost a year to buy-a silver locket set with a tiny chip of aquamarine, her sister's birthstone. Emmy had loved it, had worn it from that day on, refusing to take it off even when she slept. It was her good luck charm, she said.
It hadn't given her enough luck to protect her when a few Resistance members had decided to attack a group of police officers patrolling the park near their apartment. A stray shot had hit her in the chest, killing her instantly. Saya didn't remember it happening-she had been through enough therapy to know that she'd blocked the traumatic event from her memory, to keep it out of her nightmares and to keep herself from reliving it.
She lifted one finger, stroked her baby sister's smiling face, so perfectly preserved in the picture. "'Bye, Emmy," she whispered. "Wish me luck, okay?"
Settling her pack on her shoulder again, she slipped out the door.
When she arrived at the rendezvous point under Keyes Island, she spoke with an officer sent by Provost Marchand. He handed her a small wallet, and she checked inside, ensuring that there was a small but sufficient amount of the Primal Earth currency and papers identifying her and documenting her life. A photo on the ID she was issued reflected her face back at her-calm, confident, a little stern. She nodded as the officer explained about the different groups threatening the stability of Primal Earth, making mental notes. Finally, the officer saluted her, wished her luck, and opened the door for her.
Thanking him, she stepped through into a dark hallway. The only sounds were the tapping of her feet on the metal catwalk, the sounds of running water in the pipes, and her own breathing and heartbeat in her ears. This was her last glimpse of home, she thought-not the stars she so loved watching from Tiberian Bluff, not her parents' faces, not her friends. Just the dark underbelly of Keyes Island. She marched swiftly down the spiral staircase at the end of the hall and stepped into a room bathed in the blue glow of a huge, circular portal.
Awestruck, she gazed at the device. Large computer banks stood around it, with busy scientists and technicians checking controls, making notes, adjusting things. Near the ramp that led into the portal, she spotted a few familiar faces, and as she strode towards them she knew she was grateful to Marchand for calling them in to say goodbye.
She stopped in front of Interrogator Washington first, locking eyes with the man and then shaking his hand firmly. He recalled their time together, mentioned the aftermath of Cleopatra's betrayal. She wished him luck dealing with Praetor White and promised that when the time came, she'd do what was best for Praetoria. After all, she thought, how could she do less? It was her home. He clapped her on the shoulder and sent her on.
IVy, the Clockwork robot she'd rescued from Metronome and had reprogrammed so that she could use her abilities to help the people of Praetoria instead of just filing their complaints, was next. "I have helped two hundred and forty five people since we last met, Spectrolite!" she announced, her metallic voice sounding cheerful as always. "Great work, IVy," Saya praised her. She listened to a few messages that had been recorded by citizens who'd been helped by IVy, and felt pride warm her heart. She had given them another resource that would help protect them from the Syndicate and the Resistance. She thanked IVy and told her to keep up the good work, then turned to face Chance McKnight.
A smile creased the old soldier's face for a moment before disappearing into his customary gruffness. "We've been on a very difficult path, haven't we?" he greeted her. He told her that he had been assigned to a special squad dealing with the Syndicate, and she expressed her condolences for his situation. He knew what it was like to lose a family, although he'd at least be in the same dimension as his wife and child. She promised to come back someday and have a drink with him, talk over their experiences. He clasped her hand warmly in both of his, and they told each other to stay safe.
Too soon, she was facing the portal. She took a deep breath, steeled herself not to look back. Her eyes teared up as she thought about those she was leaving behind, but she didn't let the tears fall. She had a job to do.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and stepped through the portal, tingling as she passed through into a new world.