Quote:
hrm, neither can I. |
Originally Posted by Stalemate
I can't find the "like" button...
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@tiggy
Beware the attack cat
JWB:
For the new readers, I assume, even if it is not signed, that this is one of Alexis Alexander's reports ?
Keep NCSoft from shutting down City of Heroes : http://www.change.org/petitions/ncso...city-of-heroes
Quote:
|
Originally Posted by Archiviste
JWB:
For the new readers, I assume, even if it is not signed, that this is one of Alexis Alexander's reports ? |
Oops, knew I forgot something. Thanks for the catch. Fixed.
Writer of In-Game fiction: Just Completed: My Summer Vacation. My older things are now being archived at Fanfiction.net http://www.fanfiction.net/~jwbullfrog until I come up with a better solution.
Mark me down for "intrigued"...
Hiya Paragonners, Alexis Alexander here with more on the Galaxy City situation.
More information is coming in daily and most of it isn't good. Every day, more bodies are recovered and more names of the dead are released. As a result, the lists of the missing have grown shorter and its harder to maintain hope.
Still, there has been some good news. A team of firefighters managed to reach Galaxy City West Elementary and found that all 150 students and teachers managed to make it to the safety of the basements.
Apparently, the school's principal had, for reasons unknown even to her, wildly overstocked the usual 3 days of survival supplies, so instead of suffering from starvation and disease, it seems that boredom was the worst situation they faced. I am pleased to report that all of them were safely brought to Chiron medical center for observation and treatment. According to hospital staff, they are in very good condition. Several have already been reunited with their families and the rest will be ready for release within a few days.
I can't help but think that this could go so much faster if the city would just let more of our costumed heroes into Galaxy City. In fact, this thought is what has been driving my activities over the last 24 hours.
For those of you who have followed my reports, you already know that I have access to persons who could, through more or less ethical methods, get me any information I want. Unfortunately, this access is a bit of a devil's bargain and I prefer not use it unless I absolutely must. So, in the interests of saving my Journalistic soul, I decided to start with the most simple tool in the reporter's arsenal.
I decided to ask the people who are supposed to know.
In all honesty readers, it is tempting at this point to tell you that my notoriety is so great that everyone from the City Coordinator down to the Dog Catcher considers themselves my friend and will tell me anything I wish to know anytime I ask. I have been a minor celebrity from time to time but, sadly, that isn't the truth. In reality, I am a bit of a nuisance (like all good investigative reporters should be, readers) and it takes a bit of verbal Judo and a little inter-departmental rivalry to get what I need.
Bureaucracies, readers, can be wonderful things. Properly managed and run, they keep things moving smoothly and make it possible for something as large as a city to function. Also, from the point of view of a reporter such as myself, they can, with a little care, be wonderful sources of information. In fact, the larger the bureaucracy, the easier it is to find out what you want to know.
For example: The Coordinator's office wouldn't speak to me directly but at least gave me a referral to the Chief of Police. He bluntly informed me that he was way to busy to deal with me but he suggested that the Fire Chief might have more time. The Fire Chief was far more polite about it but, basically, he also told me to go elsewhere. The Director of the Department of Sanitation told me that he would be happy to tell me anything I wished to know, provided that I could 'Find a way to get the damned monsters out of his sewers' first.
By mentioning that I had already spoken to the City Coordinator (or, at least her office), every other office made the assumption that I had permission to be calling them for information. Normally, this would manifest as a desire to be helpful and informative, but this time nobody was falling for it.
Health Department, Power and Light, Office of Food Safety, department after department gave me the same basic response. 'Thank you for asking but we're not going to talk about this with you.' I was beginning to wonder what my Blackberry bill was going to look like next month.
A lesser person would be discouraged but, as anyone who has dealt with the DMV knows, patience is the key to getting anything done.
In fact, the DMV is where I got my first real success. One of the clerks there is an old friend of mine from school and she agreed to take me to her boss. "Don't expect much 'Lex. And you owe me lunch," she said as she left me standing outside his door.
I made sure my most innocent smile was in place as I knocked on his door and opened it before the sound stopped echoing. "Mr. Jackson, " I chirped eagerly, as I stepped through the door. "I hope you can help me. I've spoken with the Coordinator's office, the Police, Fire and everyone else and they all tell me that I should speak with you."
Readers, that last sentence is technically correct while being very specifically wrong.
Actually what all of those other departments told me was 'go talk to somebody else' but Mr. Merle James Jackson, Director of Roads and Bridges for Paragon City, did not need to know that. I could see in his expression that all he needed to know right now is that a young, attractive woman had (perhaps for the first time ever) been directed to his office to ask HIM for help.
Merle Jackson has held his current office for 23 years and could be very accurately described by the phrase 'career bureaucrat.' He is a physically unimposing, one might even say, unremarkable man with thinning brown hair and a somewhat outdated fashion sense. He may be the most overlooked official in the city but, in spite of that he has managed the herculean task of keeping traffic flowing in Paragon City despite the daily abuse of the City's infrastructure caused by Superhuman activity.
I'll give him full credit readers, he recovered his composure quickly. He rose and stepped out from behind his desk, offering me his hand and directing me to one of the plain wooden chairs sitting in front of the desk.
"So, Miss.." he said as he settled back into his chair.
"Alexander, " I countered. "Alexis Alexander from Paragon News Services. I'm looking for information on access to Galaxy City."
His composure slipped a bit. The pleasant conversation he was expecting to have had suddenly become an interview. This was not part of his job description.
"W-w-well Miss Alexander, was it? I-i'm afraid that I don't have information on that. In fact it might be better if you directed your questions to..."
"All I'm doing," I interrupted truthfully and politely "is researching the ways the city has limited access to Galaxy City. Questions have been asked and I would like to be able to reassure the public that everything is well."
Again, another absolutely truthful sentence. It wasn't my fault that what he heard and what I actually said were two different things.
Vanity, readers, is a wonderful tool. I do not claim to be a grand master of manipulation, but I do know which words will tweak a person's ego. For a man who has been invisible for most of his life, even the slightest hint of notoriety is rain in the desert. I had brought the conversation back to his comfort zone. I wanted to reassure the public and his department could help me do that. He smiled, and quickly typed a short string of commands into his computer..
"We're using the same basic plan that we did with White Plains. You are Familiar with White Plains aren't you?"
White Plains. I nodded calmly as the sickening impact of those words hit me. I could now see how seriously the City was taking things. No wonder people wouldn't talk to me.
As you can see," he continued. "We've shut down all street level access with the exception of the Kings Row tunnel since we are using that to move supplies and personel. The doors to Perez Park have been sealed, and we've rerouted the trains. All those are under constant watch by both PPD and Longbow troops. Nothing moves through their checkpoints without permission. "
"What about access by air?"
"Vanguard." he said bluntly. "The've imposed a no fly zone over the site and have permission to shoot down anyone they even think is trying to cross it."
I nodded politely. "What about the medi port system? Or other teleporter systems?"
"One way only. Out. Even the private ones used by Supergroups have been shut down. Don't ask me how." he replied. "Even then you have to get past the check points to get to a working station."
I thanked Mr. Jackson for his time and left his office. I had to do some thinking to do.
White Plains. Otherwise known as the Rikti War Zone. This was not good news. The city had already written off Galaxy City.
An hour later, after an average dinner (and a glass or two of very good wine) I had reached the conclusion that the City was going to take the same position they always had.
Siege Mentality.
Evacuate... Fall Back... Isolate... Wait for someone to save the day.
Baumton... Astoria... Eastgate... Woodvale...Venice... and now Galaxy City.
It didn't make sense. There have been many other sections of the City that have suffered disasters but the City kept those open and, in the case of Overbrook, is actively rebuilding. Why close off Galaxy? What is there that has the city so worried? There were still too many unanswered questions, and readers, you know I hate unanswered questions.
The only place to get answers was Galaxy City and since I knew Paragon City Hall wasn't going to help me get in there, I'd have to find another way.
It was time to start calling in favors.
Writer of In-Game fiction: Just Completed: My Summer Vacation. My older things are now being archived at Fanfiction.net http://www.fanfiction.net/~jwbullfrog until I come up with a better solution.
Aloha readers, JWB here with a quick author's note before we get to the next chapter.
Thanks to all of you that have followed along so far. The PLAN (note the capital letters there) is to post a new chapter every week, until I reach the end of the story. And, to be honest, I don't know exactly how far this is going to go. The new posts should happen late on Saturdays so you have fresh reading for your Sunday morning.
With that said, back to our tale. When we last left our Intrepid Heroine....
<<keep going...>>
Hiya Paragonners, Alexis Alexander here.
Readers, if you've ever doubted the integrity of the press, please remember that we're asking questions of people who don't like answering questions (Unless, that is, we're covering the local flower show, and in that case, the problem isn't getting people to talk, it's getting them to shut up.) Sometimes, in order to get to the truth, it's necessary to walk very close to (and, sometimes, right on top of) that line between law-abiding, and law-breaking.
Having exhausted all of the more traditional methods for getting things done I decided to put on my tightrope walking shoes and get creative.
My first step was to place a few phone calls to a few very select, very secure phone numbers. In fact, I'm not exactly sure that some of those numbers officially exist. These were to persons that might be able to help me but were under no obligation to do so. I would have to wait and see if any of those came through but, in the meantime, I sent out an e-mail to someone I knew would help.
"Wentworths. Atlas Park. Dusk. Bring a Latte."
I knew that would get his attention. I also knew that it would annoy him. Either way, it it would be all but guaranteed that he would show up. You see readers, due to our past work together, I am one of the few people in Paragon who has the explicit right to make fun of Etherfalcon.
He was stating in the shadows by the loading docks. Punctual as usual. This of course meant that he was about 30 minutes early. He's like that.
That's why I got there an hour early.
"Mr. Falcon, " I said in my best deep, dark, sinister voice. "Did you bring ... the coffee?"
It was hard to tell in the poor lighting but I could see the tell tale signs of someone who was trying not to sigh out loud. With very deliberate movements, he held out a small styofoam cup and stepped out of the shadows.
"You're making waves, you know, " he said. "People are starting to notice."
"Are they upset?"
"No. Not yet. But it won't be long before they start making 'polite requests that you cease and desist that line of questioning.'"
"Why?"
Etherfalcon looked both ways and reached for a small box at his belt. "It might be better if we took this conversation elsewhere. Transport two. War room."
The last words were directed into the small box and I felt the familiar, and completely unwelcome feeling of a matter transport beam. Readers, don't believe anyone who tells you that teleporters are the family car of the future. I have never been in any motor vehicle that made me want to vomit quite as much.
A moment later, an all too familiar room coalesced around me. While I tried to keep from spitting my coffee back out on the tiles, Etherfalcon stepped over to one of the multiple workstations and started typing.
"As you've learned Ms. Alexander, Paragon officials have instituted a total shutdown of Galaxy City. Once search and rescue operations have ceased, phase two of their WCS plan will be activated and Galaxy will be considered little better than Pripyat."
"Where?"
"The small town near Chernobyl that is still abandoned today."
"Ok, " I asked, " But why? What is in Galaxy that has the City that spooked?"
Etherfalcon looked up at me before answering. "We don't know. I've checked all known lists of class 7 hazards and the only thing that comes close is the MAGI vault under Freedom Plaza. Nobody is sure how much of that is accounted for but, if any of those items had gotten lose, we'd already know about it."
"Ok I can understand keeping the general public out of the way, but why Heroes?"
"Another very good question Ms. Alexander. The official line is that the Shivans are too much of a threat but, between you and me, thats a very thin excuse. You and I both can name dozens of persons, including myself, that would have no trouble dealing with that level of threat. And I know for a fact that all of those persons have repeatedly volunteered to go into Galaxy. I also know that all of us have been politely, but firmly, refused."
"So how do I get in there?"
"Other than an engraved invitation from Statesman, I'd say its impossible. But, knowing you, that's not an answer you can accept." Etherfalcon stepped away from the computer and took a few steps toward me. "If you do go in there, we can't help you. The city is keeping very close watch on the superhuman community right now. The best I can do is set up some false electronic trails to keep you off of their radar for a while."
"Thank you, " I said sincerely. I knew that he wouldn't lie to me, not on this at least. If he could find a way in, Etherfalcon would already be there.
"So," I said. All seriousness put aside for the moment, "Is there a way out of here that doesn't require having my atoms scrambled?"
"There is," he replied, indicating a steel lined hatchway. " Take that door and head straight down for about 500 kilometers or so."
"Wait a minute, we're in space? You didn't tell me anything about going into orb..."
The nausea of matter transport took over before I could finish the thought. At least he was considerate enough to make my landing next to an open trash bin.
Later that evening, after getting my stomach and head back on speaking terms, I reviewed my options. It didn't take long since there didn't seem to be many. I was facing the concept that I just wouldn't be able to get into Galaxy when my blackberry rang.
"Ms. Alexander, "came the polished, very feminine, and faintly Castilian accented voice from the other end. A voice that I immediately recognized.
"Madam sends her regards and wonders if you would be available for lunch tomorrow. She has some information that you might find useful."
Readers, It seemed like one of my phone calls came through. Since the City won't help, and the Heroes can't, I had to look elsewhere. Because sometimes, as the song said...
I've got friends in low places.
Stick with me readers. Things are beginning to happen. We'll get to the bottom of this.
Writer of In-Game fiction: Just Completed: My Summer Vacation. My older things are now being archived at Fanfiction.net http://www.fanfiction.net/~jwbullfrog until I come up with a better solution.
A bit of an early start to this week's episode. Enjoy--JWB
Hiya Paragonners, Alexis Alexander here with my continuing report.
It's not often that I get dressed up for lunch. In fact, it's not that often I get dressed up for anything. One of the great things about being a freelance reporter is that we have a fairly casual dress code. An old pair of khakis, a comfortable sweater, and a pair of running shoes serve me well most of the time. But, every now and then, I have good reason to iron the skirt and dust off the pumps.
An invitation from Madam would be one of those times.
Now you might be wondering about Madam and why I seem to refer to her in a tone reserved for royalty. Although I am not certain of her actual social and/or political status, she is, in her own way, every bit a Queen. In addition to being a notable figure in the superhuman community, Madam Masada is the head of a multinational corporation which operates businesses all through the Rogue Islands, Europe, Asia, and United States. Although most of her business interests are perfectly legitimate,(she owns one of the largest dry cleaning chains on the Eastern Seaboard, for example) her primary business is providing very personalized forms of entertainment to consumers who would rather remain anonymous.
I trust I don't need to spell that out for you.
I have worked with her (not for her, readers, please keep that distinction in mind) several times in the past, and while I would not consider myself a friend, I am on her list of favored persons. Which made the choice of adding a small, dove shaped pin to my wardrobe for the day vital.
When Madam asks you to lunch, she is not talking about meeting you at the local hotdog cart. In this case it meant boarding her private yacht in Independence Port. I was escorted aboard by a highly attractive young man who I assumed, since he was in uniform, was a member of the crew. He led me down into the main hull of the ship and up to an oak door at the end of a short hall. After knocking once, he opened the door and motioned me inside. As I stepped through the door I realized that I didn't recall him saying anything.
"His name is Jean-Paul. And, yes, he is almost too pretty to be true," said Madam's personal secretary, Caridad as she stepped into view from my left. "He's working on his master's degree in both Philosophy and Psychology and he also has an interesting ability for navigation. It'll be sad seeing him go in another year or two. Here she stopped and looked at me over the top of her wire framed glasses and slight smile twisted the corner of her mouth, But then I wont have to worry about the no dating in the workplace policy, eh?
Because I know youre wondering; yes, Caridad has worked for Madam for several years and, yes; she started out as an escort. This has given her a much more casual attitude toward the opposite sex, which becomes a bit more pronounced around me because she knows it makes me blush. It's not that Im a prude readers, I am not unattractive and I have a healthy view of my own likes and dislikes but I just have several years of a very conservative upbringing to overcome. Caridad seems determined to assist with that.
We proceeded forward through two other rooms, one an obvious office arrangement and the other outfitted as a lounge or sitting area. Caridad opened the door to the third room and motioned me inside. This room had no business being onboard an ocean going vessel unless that vessel was the Queen Mary. Dark oak paneling with carefully placed artworks lined three of the walls with the fourth taken up with a set of sliding glass doors that would have a spectacular view once the ship was out at sea. Brass fitted sconces in the corners concealed lights that would most likely give the room an intimate feeling at night. In the center of the room was a small, round table set with a surprisingly understated set of china.
Madam rose from her seat at the table to greet me. She was dressed in a well tailored suit of bronze and white, her chosen colors. I have to admit an urge to bow, or curtsey, or whatever it is a person is supposed to do in situations like this but I opted for the cautious approach, and let her make the first move.
She shook my hand gracefully then directed me to the chair opposite hers. Caridad slipped into the third chair at the table, the one that gave her the best view of both the door and the windows. After a few moments, and probably on some unheard signal, Jean-Paul pushed a small cart into the room and began serving what would only be the first of several courses.
It was a few more minutes before Madam started the conversation. The topics were all small things at first, my health, congratulations on my blackbelt, (Yes readers, I know Karate. In Paragon City it can be deducted as a work related expense.) and a few humorous stories from Madam's own recent business affairs. The small talk lasted through the main course, and it was over a simple crème brulee that Madam returned to business.
"A certain little bird tells me that you're looking for way into Galaxy City. I believe I can help you with that. It seems that our dear friends in Longbow have a teleporter we could use to get you, and perhaps a few other persons into Galaxy City."
"Longbow?" Madam had ways of getting things done but I had to doubt this one.
"Well, of course, " said Madam completely unruffled by my slight tone of alarm. "In very typical fashion they don't even realize that they have a huge hole in their interdiction strategy that we can take advantage of. I propose that we use their equipment to send you and several of my people into Galaxy to set up a secure base for relief operations."
"Relief operations?"
"Yes, food, shelter, medical care, protection from nasty monsters and even nastier people. And, perhaps, while we're there, set up a listening post to eavesdrop on the brave boys and girls of Longbow and Vanguard to find out what they're really up to." Madam stopped and looked into my eyes. "You're not the only one who thinks someone isn't telling the truth."
Readers, it's always nice to have people you can count on. Madam had a way in, but there were a few small details that concerned me.
"You mentioned that this was Longbow's equipment?"
"For now, yes. It seems that in their never ending war against Arachnos, Longbow has taken over a few facilities that contain teleporters that can reach into Galaxy City. Their typical procedure whenever they take a facility is to switch teleporters over to their own command net so they can use them to move supplies and troops."
"So we just walk up to one of these facilities and ask nicely?" I could see that Madam was being coy. She was enjoying making me sweat over this.
"Oh no, "she said in sugary sweet tones "They're far too arrogant for that. But thats the good part. Because they are almost required to be stubborn hotheads, they simply refuse to accept that someone would dare to defy them. They think that hanging a Longbow flag over the door is a guarantee of security." Madam shook her head and let her tone become more contemptuous. "They're just not paranoid enough. They're careless, and sloppy and THAT is our way in."
Madam was proposing infiltrating a Longbow base. Now I had no doubt she could find people to do that but it could be dangerous. Longbow was not known for going above and beyond in the care of prisoners and I had no desire to spend the next several weeks sitting behind a reinforced door waiting for my lawyer to call. still, Madam's eyes were as close to twinkling as I have ever seen. She was still hiding something.
"Ok, what aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing much. Tell me, have you ever visited Mercy Island?"
"What's on Mercy Island?"
"Snakes, Spiders, Crooked Cops, unfortunate victims of medical experiments....
... and Fort Darwin."
Writer of In-Game fiction: Just Completed: My Summer Vacation. My older things are now being archived at Fanfiction.net http://www.fanfiction.net/~jwbullfrog until I come up with a better solution.
Hiya Paragonners. Alexis Alexander here with a special holiday report.
JWB has asked me to pass on a bit of a scheduling note. Due to the usual holiday rush, rush, rush, I'll be getting a bit of a break this week. He promises that we'll pick back up with an extended length episode next week. Until then...
A Merry Christmas to one and all. And may the New Year bring you and yours all the best.
---JWB.
Writer of In-Game fiction: Just Completed: My Summer Vacation. My older things are now being archived at Fanfiction.net http://www.fanfiction.net/~jwbullfrog until I come up with a better solution.
Took a little break last week but I'm back again with a new episode. Here it is and, to One and All A Happy New Year. --- JWB
Hiya Paragonners. Alexis Alexander here with my ongoing report.
Readers, I've never had a reason to look up the word 'insanity' before. Like most of us, I always thought I had a fair understanding of what it meant. But, after my lunch meeting with Madam Masada, I took the time break out my old copy of the Encyclopedia Britannica just to make sure I had things straight.
Her plan for getting into Galaxy City was, at first, second, and third glance, completely insane. She proposed that a team of mercenaries (that she just happened to have on retainer) would infiltrate Fort Darwin and use the teleporters there to transport into Galaxy City. I would be going along with this group in my profession of investigative reporter and, she was kind enough to tell me this after dessert, her personal envoy.
To paraphrase Obi Wan, "Who's the more foolish? The fool or the fool who follows her?"
That, readers, is how I found myself sitting in a small inflatable boat with four other people, slowly drifting with the current toward Mercy Island.
Despite popular opinion, Mercy Island is not Hell on Earth. In fact, before the Rikti invasion it was pretty much a quiet place given over to the fishing industry. Arachnos was one of the best things to happen to the island, driving the mutant snake population (a phrase which only sounds perfectly normal in Paragon, readers) back underground, and establishing a totalitarian but secure society.
When the Rikti invaded, the Northern end of the island was devastated and was never rebuilt. Most of the surviving population either relocated to other islands in the chain or moved South of the massive fortified wall that Arachnos constructed. The North end of the island became Lord Recluse's training ground for new recruits. Either they proved strong enough to survive, and therefore, strong enough to be of use to Arachnos, or they simply disappeared into a snake hole, never to be seen again.
Yes, readers, this is where most of the poster children from the last six years of Paragon's Most Wanted got their start. Kind of puts things into perspective doesn't it?
Over the last few years, Longbow has been sending teams of field operatives onto Mercy in an attempt to "clean up" the island. Generally, all they've accomplished was getting several field agents killed, wounded, or captured by Arachnos. It's a bit of an inside joke with Longbow that if you screwed up badly your superiors would show you mercy.
Yeah. Saviors of the world from the forces of evil...
In any case, Longbow has had one clear cut victory in their long conflict with Arachnos. They have managed to take and hold the Arachnos base known as Fort Darwin. As a result, Arachnos forces have withdrawn South of the wall. In a press conference, an Arachnos spokesman denounced the act as nothing more than 'a terrorist invasion of our sovereign territory.' Later that day, the Arachnos emissary to the UN called for sanctions against Longbow and the nations that harbor them.
As you might expect readers, this really hasn't gone very far. Particularly since the emissary was visibly trying to restrain laughter when, in a press conference later that day he said 'If they really want it that badly, they can have it." Rumors are that things have not gotten better North of the wall. In fact, reliable sources tell me that things have gotten much. much, worse.
And that cheerful thought brings me back to the small inflatable boat on the tide.
The four of us in the boat were only part of the team that Madam sent. Two of our other partners were airborne while the seventh was, quite remarkably, under the boat guiding us in. Marine, our underwater guide, would use his water manipulation abilities to guide us in silently to the shore near Fort Darwin's docks as well as being our first notification of trouble.
Our two airborne members, twins calling themselves Dive and Bomb (I do not make these things up readers), were our lookouts and, when the time came, our distraction. Along with Marine, they would create a large amount of noise and give the impression that the fort was under serious attack.
We stopped about 100 yards out. This was the point where noise and misdirection would do us more good than pure stealth. It seems that Longbow's leadership is so confident that nobody would attack them directly, that their forces are almost exclusively trained to look for stealthy attackers. A loud, flashy attack would draw their attention so much that our stealth team should be able to enter the fortress unopposed.
Readers, I hate any plan that revolves around the word 'should."
"Ok, here's where I give y'all a push, " said Marine. "Hold on tight and don't fight the wave. Once you get to the dock, get out quick. I 'spect the twins'll be a bit busy at that point and I'll probably be busy pushing Longbow's boats back out to sea."
Fortunately, as much as I hate matter transporters, I love rollercoasters. I had to remember that we were trying to be sneaky as we shot toward the shoreline, or else I would have been whooping like a maniac the whole way. On the edges of my vision I could see Dive and Bomb glowing like fireworks and beginning their run.
The dock was drawing closer as I could see spotlights snapping on above us and the sounds of shouted orders became just barely audible over the rush of the water. I could see bursts of flame erupting along the edges of the platform as the crest of the wave brought us alongside what I supposed was a cargo dock. my three companions and I hopped quickly onto the concrete, letting the wave surge past and break against the shoreline just yards away.
We waited in the shadows of a set of shipping containers as we waited for the twins to break off their attack. They were only supposed to give us five minutes of distraction before heading back out to sea. What seemed like moments later I could hear the twins shouting and hurling insults down at the Longbow troops as they made one last arcing attack run then raced for the horizon.
This was when our timing was critical. We had to find a way inside from dockside while everyone was still looking up. The four of us moved up the dock at a slow jog. Out in front of our foursome was a slight woman calling herself Carpenter. I had to keep reminding myself that she was there since her special abilities made her all but invisible unless you were looking directly at her. She would be our scout and, if necessary, our first striker. We had made it most of the way to a set of armored doors at the end of the dock when she signaled us to stop.
I could see the problem right away. Two Longbow troopers stood on either side of the door. They either had superior discipline or no curiosity what so ever. In either case, they were a complication. I felt a hand on my left shoulder as the second of Madam's 'infiltration specialists' took the initiative.
She raised her hands up to her face and slowly removed the pair of goggles that I had never seen her without. I had warned not to look at her when she did this. Her name was Sandy, short for Sandrine or, as the others called her 'Sandman'. She was a modern day Gorgon and her unfiltered gaze could induce sleep, hallucinations, fear, or even death. I'd had the opportunity to speak with her on the trip in and found her to be very energetic and personable. She said that she had never killed without very good reason, but freely admitted that there were a few times in her past when someone had not walked away from a meeting with her.
It was a moment before the guard on the left stiffened and slumped to the ground, quickly followed by the one on the right. I waited for her whispered 'all clear' before I looked at her, questioningly.
"It's amazing how bored people get on guard duty. I can't blame them for falling asleep at their post." She grinned and took a few jogging steps forward before waving me onward.
The guards were breathing deeply and regularly, lost in whatever dreamland they cared for. Sandy and I dragged them off to the side as our final team member pulled a small multitool from his belt and opened the access switch for the door.
I guess readers, I have this romanticized image of an electronics expert from books and movies. I expected either a small microcomputer and wires, or perhaps a wire connected from his head to the switch. A pair of wire cutters and some electrical tape were a bit undramatic but, they got the job done. The door opened with a faint pneumatic hiss and we slipped inside.
I'd seen file footage of Arachnos facilities but I wasn't prepared for just how... overdramatic Fort Darwin actually was. What little lighting there was seemed to be there solely for the purpose of pointing out how depressing everything was. Bare industrial walls met bare industrial floors at bare industrial joints.
"You'd think Longbow would have at least painted the place or something," said Handshake, our electronics expert. " God, I always hated coming out to Darwin."
"You've been here before?" I asked. I trusted Madam's judgment, but this could be a complication.
"Sure. You don't think Wolf Spiders fix their own computers do you? I was an IT guy for Arachnos for three years before Madam offered me better pay and a benefits package."
As we walked he explained that the Soldiers, Fortunatas, Widows, and Arbiters that were the villains of a thousand-and-one made for TV movies, were really only a small part of Arachnos. The majority of the payroll went to civilian techs, secretaries, plumbers, janitors, and legions of clerks who did the dull, boring, and infinitely necessary paperwork needed to make a private army run.
"Most of us really didn't care whether Lord Recluse ended up ruling the world or not. All we cared about was the steady pay." Said Handshake. "But they really weren't paying me enough to come out here on a regular basis."
It seems, readers, that Fort Darwin itself was the first of Lord Recluse's tests for new recruits. It was purposely designed to be mind numbingly dull. If a new recruit didn't immediately leap off the landing platform, eager to do something, anything, just to get away from Fort Darwin, then they were probably not what Arachnos was looking for. And, if someone actually LIKED being there, well, it's pretty safe to say that they weren't likely to be seen again.
Handshake was just about to launch into a story about a Fortunata named Kalinda when we heard the stomp of boots and the shouts of orders from ahead of us.
"I think they know we're here, " said Carpenter. "I was so hoping I wouldn't have to kill anyone today."
"Heh, and what makes today different than every other day, Spooky? " chided Handshake as he pulled on a pair of metal lined gloves.
Carpenter snorted. "I just bought this shirt. You know how hard it is to get blood out of silk? Oh well," she sighed, "Sandy, if a fight starts, you and I'll carry the load. 'Shake, you're the watchdog. If nothing else, make sure Alexis gets where she's going."
"I'm not helpless, " I said. I felt the need to defend myself at this point, even though I knew my usual place in a fight was not to be in the middle of it.
"Madam's orders, " said Sandy as she stepped past me. "And do you really want to be the one who has to tell her why you're under arrest? Not me. I like my paycheck."
Ahead of us, the hallway opened out into a four-way intersection. Large stacks of packing crates stood almost to the ceiling creating blind spots and, obvious to even my tactically inferior point of view, nasty choke points that it would be easy to shoot wandering reporters in.
"Spooky, you're on," whispered Sandy. Carpenter had moved out of my line of sight and I had no idea where she was. The three of us crouched down behind a set of metal pipes and waited while our scout did her job.
A minute or two later, Carpenter's voice whispered out of the air behind me. "Two left, two right. All rifles, nothing special. Three hiding straight ahead including a flamethrower."
Flamethrower...
There are some words that just don't come up in casual conversation, readers. Flamethrower usually fits on that list. Longbow is supposed to be a law enforcement agency, deputized to arrest and detain criminals.
So, how exactly do you arrest somebody with a flamethrower?
"Um," I started.
"Yeah, I agree. Um...," whispered Handshake. "Any good news Spooky?"
"There's an unguarded teleport bay just about 100 yards straight ahead. We get past these guys and we're good.'
The unresolved flamethrower issue was still hanging in the air when I saw Sandy stand up and walk slowly toward the intersection. I was about to says something when I noticed her left hand held a pair of goggles hanging by their strap. A slight change in the shadows hinted that Carpenter was already moving and would be ready to take advantage of whatever came her way. Handshake had levered himself up onto his toes in almost a sprinter's start. I could see the plan, although I wasn't too fond of it.
"Freeze, intruder and put your hands in the air." Came a voice from the Longbow on the left. At least they were going to start off playing by the rules. Sandy did exactly as commanded. She stopped in the center of the intersection and raised her hands to shoulder height.
She also opened her eyes.
"Now," shouted Handshake as we took off running. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the pair on the right lying bonelessly on the floor while the ones on the left stared at some point far, far, away from reality. That left the three in the center that were directly in our path.
Including the one with the flamethrower. Yes, I know I keep coming back to that, but it was a very important detail in my life at that point. There are a fair amount of hazards in my line of work, but somehow, right then, being incinerated had moved to the top of the list.
I suppose I shouldn't have worried. Although they hadn't been in Sandy's line of sight, neither had Carpenter been in theirs. As Handshake and I passed, I could see the agent with the flamethrower lying on the floor with an unnatural bend in his neck. She was busy fighting with a second agent leaving only one person between us and our goal.
I figured that this was as good a time as any to show off, so I launched myself into the kind of flying kick that my martial arts instructor hated. I saw something like it in a Jackie Chan movie once and I'd wasted a lot of training time trying to perfect it.
The Longbow rifleman folded neatly in half around my foot and dropped to his knees. I followed up with a quick strike to the back of his head, driving him face first into the floor.
Thank you, Jackie.
Handshake was laughing as we crossed the last few feet into the teleporter bay. He walked over to the computer console outside the bay and took off his gloves.
"They've changed the codes," he said. "Ok, no surprise there. I was kind of hoping though. Oh well..." His voice trailed off for a moment as he laid his bare hand on the console. The lights on the panel shifted twice before he looked back at me.
"Got it. I suppose you don't want to go to any of their presets?"
"Not particularly, any suggestions?"
"Lets see if the boys in black left any of their beacons running."
"Arachnos has teleporters in Galaxy City?" I asked. This was news to me.
"Sure. They just didn't advertise. Ha, there's one, warehouse district. Nice strong signal too. Give a shout for the girls will you?"
It took him a moment to make the adjustments he needed and the teleport glowed to life. Sandy (re-goggled) and Carpenter jogged into the room at my call and took their place on the transport pad. I stepped up behind them, and tried to breathe deeply. I wasn't looking forward to this.
Handshake keyed in a final command and jumped into place on the platform. "Diagon Alley," he shouted as the transport started. I would have laughed if I wasn't waiting for my stomach to come out my mouth.
There had to be a better way to get around.
Writer of In-Game fiction: Just Completed: My Summer Vacation. My older things are now being archived at Fanfiction.net http://www.fanfiction.net/~jwbullfrog until I come up with a better solution.
*taps foot impatiently*
*looks at watch*
Oh, I'm early.
*goes off to do something else*
"Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you... you had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end..." -- Q
Oh good, I'm not the only one that rushes here to catch the latest installment every weekend. 
Hiya Paragonners. Alexis Alexander here with my continuing report.
Imagine, if you will, the feeling of being taken apart atom by atom, sorted, sifted, filed for future reference, and then being shot towards orbit at a speed equaling that achieved by a radio wave only to be bounced off a satellite, hurtled back toward another point on the planet, recalled from the files, and (hopefully) put back together in the correct order.
Now imagine that, with a suit of fully active Crab Spider armor waiting for you at the other end.
Readers, I now understand what it feels like to be completely and absolutely sober. The immediate possibility of your own death completely overrides any petty concerns you might have, such as headaches, nausea, and hunger. While most of my mind was looking for a reverse button, a small, completely fearless part was wondering how much money I could make If I could bottle that feeling as a hangover cure.
"STAND WHERE YOU ARE AND SURRENDER, " boomed the voice of the soldier in the armor. "YOU ARE TRESPASSING ON ARACHNOS PROPERTY AND WILL BE TERMINATED AS INTRUDERS."
You know, readers, I've never been very religious, but I was wondering if I might be able to take a crash course. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Carpenter standing very still. The fact that I could see her at all worried me. That meant that she had been taken as off guard as I was.
To my left, I could see Sandy's hands twitching as if she was weighing the options of trying to get her goggles off. The only one of my group that didn't look terrified was Handshake. His head was cocked to one side and he was staring up at the Crab Spider's helmet. I was hoping he had a devastating weapon ready to go.
"Cobo? Is that you in that tin suit, son?" he said as stepped forward with his hand out. Yes, before you ask, he had his gloves on.
"JAKE?" boomed the spider again. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING... OH, WAIT A SEC...that's better... what are you doing here?" Now that the voice was operating at a more normal level, I got the impression that the soldier was much younger than I expected.
Handshake took another step forward before turning and facing us. "Ladies," he began "I'd like to introduce Colby Boston, soldier of Arachnos and, our captor it looks like." He turned his attention back to the Crab Spider. "When did you get promoted?"
The most important thing that happened over those next few seconds was that several other things did not happen. For example, Handshake did not try to attack or make any physical contact with the armor. Carpenter did not move or make any hostile motions. Sandy did not raise her hands to her face. And I did not die. The most important thing was that the soldier in the armor... relaxed. The arms that extended from the back of the armor tipped skyward and stopped tracking everyone's movement. He took a step backward and, although I couldn't be sure, switched off his weapons.
"They finally gave me a slot last month, " came the voice from the armor.
"Took them forever Cobo. Hey, are you still seeing that gal of yours?"
Readers, I'm pretty certain that armor can't blush but Cobo gave every impression of doing so.
"Asked her to marry me the day after I got the promotion."
"Excellent. " Handshake turned to look at us. "His girlfriend works as a blackjack dealer in a casino on St. Martial. they've been dating for three years. I was beginning to wonder if this idiot here would ever pop the question."
"Jake, what are you doing here? " Cobo sounded exasperated. "This is not a good place to be. It's like Dresden mixed with Hiroshima out there, man. If Vanguard or Longbow dont shoot you on sight, the Shivans will get you."
"I'm on a job, son." Handshake answered. "The ladies and I are here on business for Madam. Your door just happened to be our easiest way in."
Colby sighed, "You know I have to report this. I'm already going to be in enough trouble for not shooting first and asking questions later."
"You never get any answers that way, son. " laughed Handshake. "Who's your squad boss? Maybe I can put in a kind word for you."
"Seer Constantine."
"Connie, hm? On second thought, she might still be mad at me."
Hearing a suit of armor laugh was just one of several surreal things that had happened to me over those last few minutes readers.
"Maybe not Jake, " Cobo said. "You see, about two weeks ago when we were assigned here, she told me, and I quote here, 'If you ever see that fool friend of yours again, tell him that warehouse 25A would be a good place for him. And, if I ever see him again, I'll make his brain run out of his nose.' Oh, and she also told me that I should give you five minutes before I start shooting."
"How long do we have left."
"About 2 minutes 50, Jake." said Cobo cheerfully as his armor shifted back into a more alert posture. "Better get a move on."
Readers, when a Crab Spider tells you that you have less than three minutes left of your five minute head start, it's a pretty good idea to start running. Two minutes and thirty seconds later, we sprinted out of the side door of a mostly intact office building and out into what Cobo had described very correctly.
Except Hiroshima might be putting it mildly.
Writer of In-Game fiction: Just Completed: My Summer Vacation. My older things are now being archived at Fanfiction.net http://www.fanfiction.net/~jwbullfrog until I come up with a better solution.
Ok, so I'm feeling a bit ambitious and posting early this week. Enjoy --- JWB
Hiya Paragonners. Alexis Alexander here with my continuing report.
After putting some distance between ourselves and the Arachnos facilities, we decided to find some safe high ground that we could use to get our bearings and, perhaps, get a cell phone signal out to Madam letting her know that we had made it. Carpenter had found us a charred but still solid apartment building, and from the roof ten stories up, we could get our first good look at the city.
Most people hear the words 'Meteor Strike' and instantly all of the Apocalyptic films of the last thirty years come into your head. We envision planet killing, super massive rocks from space and we hope somebody has Bruce Willis on speed dial. The truth, readers, is that hundreds of small meteors (asteroids if you prefer) impact the Earth annually. The global killers of fiction are extremely rare and, had one of those impacted in Galaxy City, you probably would not have even known it since the whole of Paragon City would have been consumed in the initial fireball.
Readers, the devastation isn't quite as total as the official reports and video releases would have you believe. In fact, it's far from it. I've seen the same news broadcasts you have and seen the same 'survivor's videos' on the web and, if I were to base my opinions entirely upon those (as, sadly, some others in my profession do) I would think that Bruce had not picked up his messages in time and that Galaxy City was another wasteland like Boomtown.
I could see several skyscrapers that were shattered and burned by what must have been direct hits, most notably the gaping hole in the skyline where the First Paragon Bank building once stood. Plumes of smoke rose above city blocks that had been swept by fire (ruptured gas lines, Carpenter suggested) and shattered bridges and streets. The most notable area of damage was in the area downtown near Ridge Avenue where we could see two, possibly three, large impact craters. The War Walls, at least those parts we could see, seemed intact with the force walls steadily glowing.
Handshake stared at things for a few minutes before offering his opinion. "If I had to make a guess I'd say that, the main strike was composed of large pieces that hit near downtown with a large number of smaller pieces spreading out through the city like a shotgun. I'd say, " he said, pointing out a few specific points, "that outside of downtown, a good part of city is intact."
"Intact?" Sandy asked. "It's a complete mess."
"Ok, it's in very bad shape," I agreed. "But no worse off than after a large scale superhuman fight. Sweep up the broken glass, clean up the soot stains, chase away the Freaks trying to loot everything, and, in true Paragon city fashion, we're back in business in a month or two."
Readers, there was nowhere enough damage to justify the City council's state of panic. It was bad, true, but we've seen worse. Overbrook, for example, was an almost total loss, and yet, a massive rebuilding and salvage program is underway there. So why such an extreme reaction here?
"You know, " said Handshake, "Cobo mentioned Dresden. You've heard about that haven't you? "
"Sure, " I said. "More than a bit controversial. Firebombed late in the Second World War."
"Well, look at the pattern of damage. All focused toward the city center. It reminds me of old photographs of Dresden."
It took me a moment to see what he had seen but, one I had, I didn't like the implications. It appeared that my contact in Vanguard was correct. The meteors that fell on Galaxy City were not a random cosmic accident. The city had been targeted. Earth, once again, was under attack.
Readers, I urge you to remain calm and not go running off to the countryside. As those of us who work with the superhuman community know, its only a matter of time before someone declares war on our World.
In fact, it happens far more often than people realize.
Every year or two some alien race (or, if you believe the rumors, people from parallel worlds) come marching up to our doorstep demanding our total and unconditional surrender in the face of their obvious superiority. In fact, records show that this has happened some 15 times since 1980.
Due to the presence of the global superhuman community, and the more recent formation of Vanguard, our current record in these situations is 14 -0- 1 (the Rikti are still considered a threat and can only be counted as, at best, a draw.) Not counting the Rikti, these invasions are beaten back within a day or two, and the heroes involved quietly receive medals and generous cash rewards while their respective governments seal records and add another folder to the 'eyes only' file.
In other words, been there, done that.
Carpenter appeared in front of me. Honestly, I'd gotten so lost in thought that I had forgotten she was even around. "Time to go. Trouble's coming."
As we broke into a run for the stairs I could see what she meant. Coming up fast from the North was one of the small aircraft Longbow called chasers. Usually used for scouting, they are also typically armed for close air support of ground units. I could see that this one wasn't just wandering aimlessly, it had a mission.
Find out who those people on the rooftop are.
The chaser was moving faster than we expected and it screamed over the roof top before we made it back to the stairs. Carpenter and Sandy had just started down when I could see the pilot pull into a tight turn and point his nose back at us. I'm not a psychic, readers, but I had a fairly good idea of his intentions.
"Go." ordered Handshake, pointing down the stairs. "I have this."
I ducked just far enough into the stairwell to get myself out of the pilots line of sight but not far enough to let Handshake out of my sight. I know I've said before that I know I'm not a fighter but I'm also not the kind of person that leaves friends to get shot up.
I could see Handshake standing his ground, his arms held loosely by his side. I could hear the increasing whine of the chaser's engines and, just at the point where I thought gunfire would have started, I saw Handshake extend an arm forward and pull it back in a sharp "grabbing" gesture. The air around Handshake wavered and glowed blue for a moment before he dropped face first onto the pavement, letting the chaser, now trailing sparks and having obvious difficulty, wobble over him and back out over the streets.
"What did you do?" I asked after he scrambled on all fours through the doorway and I helped him back to his feet.
"Fried his electronics. If he's any good, he'll too worried about not crashing to come back after us."
"I didn't know you could do that."
"You never asked. Madam didn't have me come along simply because I'm pretty."
Writer of In-Game fiction: Just Completed: My Summer Vacation. My older things are now being archived at Fanfiction.net http://www.fanfiction.net/~jwbullfrog until I come up with a better solution.
Hiya Paragonners. Alexis Alexander here with my continuing report.
"Alexis, are you nuts?"
I suppose I should explain that last quote readers. As we made it back down the stairs to ground level, I mentioned to my companions that I wanted to get closer to downtown so I could get a good look at the damage in that area. All three of my partners had good, logical, very reasonable, arguments why that would be a bad idea and had formed a consensus that we should just call this a lost cause and look for a way out.
Readers, I pride myself on being a sensible person with a habit of taking good advice when it's offered to me. But there's a large part of my personality that just refuses to give up on a puzzle. (It took me three years to solve my Rubik's cube but did I give up? I did not. It's now sitting on top of my TV as a prized paperweight.) There were just too many unanswered questions.
That is why, when I told them that I was heading downtown with or without them, Sandy felt the need to question my sanity. I didn't hold it against her. In fact, I had quietly asked myself the same question moments earlier.
At street level the damage didn't seem as bad as it appeared from above but now we moved with more caution. By now we had two known threats in the forms of Longbow and Vanguard and a less immediate third threat of the Shivans. On top of all that, the sun was setting. We needed to find a place to take cover for the night.
Two blocks later we found what we were looking for in one of Paragon City's more successful retailers, Harper Brothers furniture and appliances. The glass at the front of the store had been smashed, most likely by looters since the store seemed to be missing every single, easy to carry, electronic item from cash register to microwave to toasters. Despite the rather thorough sacking, the store had several things that we found perfect for our needs.
The store's stockroom had solid walls and doors that we could secure easily enough, so we set up camp in there. A bit of lifting gave us serviceable mattresses (I had been afraid of sleeping on the ground. I didn't really have a lot of planning time for this you know.) and a couple of simple, but comfortable chairs. A small employee break area provided us with a coffeemaker and a small hotplate that must not have been worth the looters' trouble. More importantly, the break area had a small attached bathroom that still had running water.
Readers, never underestimate the comfort factor of running water in an emergency situation. It's true that a shower was out of the question but we could at least wash our faces and the toilet would flush. Those two things alone changed things from desperate to merely uncomfortable.
Sandy and I dragged mattresses around while Handshake worked on getting power flowing again. Carpenter had stepped out to take one more look around the building and set up a few nasty surprises for anyone or anything trying to sneak up on us during the night.
She stepped back into the room a few minutes later and I helped her shove a refrigerator into the doorway to block it. It would be a pain to move in an emergency but we were willing to risk it.
"Everything looks quiet out there. I've set up a few sensors but I don't think we'll need them. I'm pretty certain that this neighborhood has already been cleared."
"Any sign of the Chaser pilot?" Sandy asked.
"None," Carpenter shrugged. "I'm not sure we'd know in any case. Longbow probably has already listed this part of the city as vacant."
"But won't the pilot report that he encountered someone out here?" I asked.
"Well, assuming he made it back to HQ he should, " said Handshake as he walked back into the room unrolling a thin blue cable. "At least, that was SOP for Arachnos pilots. Report everything then wait for instructions. I can't imagine it would be any different for Longbow."
"And even if he did, there's no guarantee that they would do anything about it until morning." said Sandy. "They're probably doing what we're doing, getting behind walls for the night."
While we unwrapped some camping food and set up a simple meal, Handshake finished unrolling cable and set up a laptop in the center of our cushions.
"Shall we try to find out?," He asked. "The power's dead so it looks like cold food tonight and no coffee in the morning but, " he smiled, "this building has a perfectly functional landline phone. A lot of folks forget that you can get onto the internet that way. If my little adapter box holds, we should be able to get a bit more information."
Camp rations, no power, and a dial up Internet connection. Could things get any more primitive, readers? Still I had the luxury to sit back and take stock of the day.
On the whole, I now understood the rush to get the public out of what was potentially a war zone. In fact, making the disaster sound worse than it was would just help get people moving. It would be weeks, if not months before people from different parts of Galaxy City would be able to compare notes and start asking questions. On top of that, by feeding the media with carefully crafted stories of widespread disaster, the government would be able to reinforce that message and by the time the media remembered to start asking questions instead of 'focusing on the human tragedy', the quarantine would be fully in place and it would be far too late to do anything about it.
"But why not let the heroes in?"
"What, Alexis?"
"Sorry, Sandy. Just thinking out loud."
Actually, I'd worked with heroes long enough to know the answer to that question. I hate to tell you this readers, but the majority of those heroes that you've come to rely upon in times of crisis, couldn't keep a secret if their lives depended upon it. In fact, there are a few that are so desperate for notoriety, that they would post anything you tell them on Facebook.
They may be Super, but they are still human.
Given that long standing policy has been to keep invasions out of sight and out of mind for the general populace, the government cannot afford to let any but the most trusted heroes into Galaxy City. Just one of the glory hounds shouting about a second invasion would panic a public that is still wondering why its taking so long to get rid of the Rikti.
I know that my telling you this isn't really helping matters readers. In fact, I can smell some bridges burning brightly behind me, but I trust you to be more intelligent than panicky. Please try not to prove me wrong.
I guess, until someone more qualified comes along, I've become your war correspondent. I'll keep sending out reports for as long as I can...
...That is, assuming I can find someplace around here to charge up my Blackberry.
Alexis Alexander, Investigative reporter and now, War Correspondent, for Paragon News Services, reporting from the front lines in Galaxy City.
End part 1
Writer of In-Game fiction: Just Completed: My Summer Vacation. My older things are now being archived at Fanfiction.net http://www.fanfiction.net/~jwbullfrog until I come up with a better solution.
Thank you for joining me for part one of Epitaph. Please join us next week for part two.
---JWB
Writer of In-Game fiction: Just Completed: My Summer Vacation. My older things are now being archived at Fanfiction.net http://www.fanfiction.net/~jwbullfrog until I come up with a better solution.
Interesting...
"Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you... you had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end..." -- Q
/em applause
Continuing on 1/28/12 in a new thread here.
Writer of In-Game fiction: Just Completed: My Summer Vacation. My older things are now being archived at Fanfiction.net http://www.fanfiction.net/~jwbullfrog until I come up with a better solution.
Hiya, Paragonners. Alexis Alexander here.
I guess my normal, cheerful welcome seems somewhat out of place given the events of the last few weeks. But, like so many others, I'm taking small comfort in familiar routines.
It's hard to believe that Galaxy City is gone. Even for those of us who make our living with words, there aren't words appropriate enough to describe the sense of loss and despair that has settled over Paragon. The displaced number in the thousands and there is no accurate estimate of the missing, wounded, and dead. There may never be.
Like many others in Paragon city, I lost friends on that day. Most of them are confirmed dead which, in a strange way, brings me comfort. Unlike those still on the lists of the missing, I no longer have to worry about them. I can offer them my prayers and farewells while sharing my grief with those who also mourn. At the same time however, I find comfort in those that are still missing. There is always the hope that they will be found alive somewhere in the rubble and that they can be returned to us.
The Paragon Police and Fire departments have not stopped working since the strikes occurred. City officials have called for assistance from State and Federal sources and International agencies have also offered assistance but all search and rescue efforts have been hampered by the presence of the alien beings known as Shivans. Longbow, Vanguard, and some of Paragon's most notable Superhumans have been called in to provide security but private sources tell me that this may not be enough.
"It may be the beginnings of another invasion," said one source inside Vanguard. "We have to operate under the assumption that it is. We're shifting all available assets to this front as quickly as we can." When asked if this would leave them short handed in the Rikti War Zone, my contact simply shrugged and replied "What else can we do? With luck, the Auxilaries can pick up the load."
Readers, its important to note that when a member of Vanguard refers to 'the auxiliaries' they are referring to the hundreds of Superhumans from both Paragon and the Rogue Isles that have joined that organization's fight over the years.
Vanguard, and to a similar degree, Longbow, has an institutional distrust of Superhumans. Considering that both organizations were founded by and employ several operatives that easily classify as 'Superhuman,' this is an odd stance to take. Both organizations have been extremely reluctant to admit that they cannot do their jobs without assistance.
Assistance that the heroes of Paragon City are eager to give.
To date, only the Freedom Phalanx and a select few have been asked to assist in Galaxy City. As someone who has worked with the Superhuman community for some time, I have to ask, what is the city waiting for? The city boasts heroes that can lift mountains, see through steel, and walk through walls. In fact, saving people is what they DO.
Something is not right readers. The powers that be are keeping something about Galaxy City a secret and I intend to find out what it is. Stick with me readers, there's a story here...
Writer of In-Game fiction: Just Completed: My Summer Vacation. My older things are now being archived at Fanfiction.net http://www.fanfiction.net/~jwbullfrog until I come up with a better solution.