tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-153604692024-03-13T06:01:21.146-06:00Mental Maden: Identity CrisisMental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-7409229116684060042008-01-20T14:44:00.001-06:002008-05-08T09:30:59.004-06:00Part 29: 1937I had stayed in my bedroom at Pemiscot Hall for three days. Two of them I slept with only the occasional interruption of Festus checking in on me. The third day I spent with Frank. After a delicious breakfast courtesy of Festus, Frank returned to work. He was going to research Archon Bishop, the name on the partial note we’d found in the office where we were ambushed. Feeling rested I felt a need to read something my Nonna had shown me as a child. I didn’t know if it meant anything but the questions came up and I felt a need to reach into my family’s past.<br /><br />“Festus,the family collection wasn’t packed up and put into storage was it?”<br /><br />“Why no Ms. Cambridge, specific orders in your grandmother’s will.”<br /><br />“Good I think I’m going to make some coffee and go read for a while.” I said with a slight smile.<br /><br />“I’ll make the coffee……”<br /><br />“But Festus, you’ve done enough, really. I’m perfectly capable of…….”<br /><br />“Of making a terrible cup of coffee. I’ve had yours before ma’am. Let me, I insist.” He interrupted laughing.<br /><br />“Fair enough.” I said and went to the third floor where the family’s collection sat amongst the many books and volumes owned by the family over the years.<br /><br />The smell so familiar jogged memories of my childhood running around the many stacks as my father and mother read together. There was an ancient mustiness, not unpleasant mind you, that just reminded me of my parents warmest moments together. They would sit quietly next to each other, her reading classic works or literature and him studying some scientific text or journal. I would play or read a children’s book or sometimes just watch the two peacefully enjoy each other.<br /><br />I went to the glass shelf that housed all of the diaries of the Cambridge women since Genevieve Pemiscot Cambridge. My hand brushed over the spines of the many volumes. All of different sizes and materials each reflecting the taste and style of the women who wrote in them. Some were several volumes containing the minute details of the family life. Some were short either due to a brevity of writing style or a life stopped too short, as Hank Steels first love, Anna. The volume I wanted belonged to his second wife, Amanda, my namesake. She wrote delightful almost poetic pieces on their time together and kept all public records and press clippings about the family and bound them in between passages. This was the largest collection each embossed with the dates they contained. Some contained two or three years, most about 18 months. The volume I grabbed was simply titled 1937. Festus brought me my coffee (it was much better than mine I must confess) and I sat in the leather sofa my parents lounged in so many years ago. I superficially glanced at some of the passages: some detailing social events and those that attended, others on family gatherings and even a report card from Branson Military Academy for my grandfather. Straight A’s in all things academic and a C in conduct and discipline. I laughed and sipped the bitter but lovely liquid in my mug as I came across the transcript I sought.<br /><br /><em>The following is a transcript taken from the February 1937 town hall meeting discussing the proposal of the Citizens Crime Fighting Act of 1937 and the testimony of local business magnate Henry Stanton Oakes Cambridge.<br /><br />H.S.O. Cambridge: I’d like to thank the council for letting me come and speak with you my concerns for this proposal and for the presence of these “super powered” vigilantes that have made enforcement of the law their self appointed duty.<br /><br />As many of you know my family has been a part of this community since its founding. While some of us, myself included, spent time away we have always called Paragon City our home. I myself love this city very deeply. Yet I am concerned about what it is you are proposing. It’s not that I don’t appreciate what it is these strange and unusual people are trying to do. I do indeed. It’s not that I don’t see the kindness and selflessness in their actions. I see that as well. No, my concerns are the unanswered questions and concerns for the unknown that lie ahead and the implications of a city government’s acceptance of these people.<br /><br />Let me first lay out my questions. First how many are there and how many will there be in the future? It started with this States Man (Statesman) now we hear of names like the Dark Watcher, Maiden Justice and even the Dream Doctor. Every day articles mention how someone unknown thwarted a bank heist or saved someone from a burglar. It seems their numbers are growing and how are we going to curtail it if the numbers get out of control? These people ask for no money. They do it out of a need for justice, well we have a police force of hard working men with families. How long before they are put out of work? These men in blue are trained and give their time and lives and we give them a salary in exchange. Are they soon to be extinct? Will these self titled heroes later ask for compensation? Will they hold our peace and justice for ransom? At what point will we decide, ‘Ok, we have enough heroes you don’t need to help us.’ And how long will it take for one of them to take exception to the fact they are being pushed away? These people have powers that astound and personally frighten. I hear rumor that this States Man claims to have powers of ancient gods of mythology. Does that only frighten me? Gentlemen, I have seen war and watched men die. I have seen famine in the darkest corners of the world. I’ve seen the death of my first wife and an unborn child. I have seen enough to make one quite callus and this….this scares me. What you are proposing is having some kind of city of heroes running around unregulated numbers only determined by the whims of someone seeking justice on their own terms. While on paper that can make you feel safe and protected lets look at the other side.<br /><br />I am but a man of industry. I have grown up with privilege that is true but my core manner of thinking has always been that of the working man. This privilege has though allowed me to see and learn things that many without such blessings of upbringing can know. I’ve read philosophy but my mind becomes twisted by the many schools of thought. I’m sure someone much wiser and smarter in the ways of philosophy could debate me until I surrendered on this topic. I like to think of myself as more a student of the physical sciences. While I didn’t study them much in my days at Brown I have been known in my later years to read the workings of physicists and chemists and find there is a beautiful world of thought in science. Concrete thinking. Real. Finite. Newton said, ‘All forces occur in pairs and these two forces are equal in magnitude and opposite in direction.’ Now one would argue that he was talking about the physical world and not something as complex as the human condition but I find that this statement to be universally true in most things in life. Balance of all things. My travels to the orient introduced me to the concept of yin and yang. Similar in principal are the writings of a young thinker Carl Jung.<br /><br />What I’m saying is if we foresee a city of heroes running in our city one must also buckle to the thought we could likewise have a city of villains as well. We are seeing men and women gaining powers of myth and legend in our time and I think it naïve and foolish to think they will all have our best interests at heart. For although they are enhanced with powers only talked about in tales of myth they are at their essence human beings and the human heart while capable of great things is at times weak and selfish. What is next, street hoodlums on every corner terrorizing our citizens? Magical beings conducting pagan rituals in our parks? Beasts of fantasy wreaking havoc? The very forces of nature turning on mankind? Or even more folly: invasion from space aliens?<br /><br />[laughter]<br /><br />I know, I know it all sounds fanciful, but if 7 years ago I would have told you that a man with the power of Zeus would save the city from organized crime you would have laughed even harder. Am I correct? I have a beautiful and brilliant 16 year old son at home. I want nothing more for him than a safe and happy life. Things in Europe are becoming more unstable by the day and I’m sure he’ll be over there fighting as I did in Cuba. This does not concern me near as much as the thoughts of allowing this Act to pass giving a general-government sponsored approval of the freakish, fanciful and extra-human powered. We don’t know what is happening but allowing it to go unfettered may dawn a time of chaos that we cannot imagine. I for one don’t think we are ready. What if by allowing this we serve as the harbingers of these frightening examples? What if by saying no now we halt or at least retard this seeming evolution of our world? What if groups like organized crime or entities like the Left Handers get a hold of super powered beings……. [interruption]<br /><br />Councilman O’ Brian: Mr. Cambridge I have sat by and allowed you to talk of gods and magical beings, even space alien invasions because I see the direction of your argument. But lets not get into paranoid ramblings about non existent entities like the Left Handers. This very council have made several probes into such entities and find them to be the figment of paranoid imaginations convinced there are secret societies running the world. I think you do yourself a disservice for your reputation and your argument by such ramblings.<br /><br /><br />Councilman Peters: Now, hear hear, Mr. O’ Brian I will not stand by as you smear the name of this man and his reputation. Mr. Cambridge is a war hero and very generous member of our highest society. And I don’t even think I have to mention his contributions to the war efforts during the Great War to his country and its soldiers. Why most of the steel used in that war was from the Cambridge family and practically donated I might add. His family has been an unparalleled part of this city since its inception. Any attempt of you to brand him as paranoid are insulting and unnecessary. <br /><br />H.S.O. Cambridge: Thank you Councilman for coming to my defense. It is appreciated but also unnecessary. I will let my name and my families speak for itself and will ask that my thoughts on the Left Handers be disregarded when deliberating on my testimony. It was merely an example and while I think there is some merit……<br /><br />Councilman O’ Brian: There is no merit! I will not allow this meeting to be the breeding ground for this. The case of the existence of the Left Handers or any secret group of puppeteers pulling our strings is ridiculous.<br /><br />H.S.O Cambridge: Fair enough, you are correct it has been disproved and was only used as an example in my statement. This isn’t about that anyway, this is about the nature of man and the corruption that great power has over them. If someone gets these kind of powers but doesn’t have the selfless heart of someone like this States Man what will it bring to our great city. What do these changes occurring mean to our world and what can we do to stop a disaster from happening. I say we don’t sit by and just welcome it into our streets. I say we study and learn first then make a more educated decision.<br /><br />I won’t take up anymore of your valuable time but leave you with this question. Who is this States Man [Statesman]? Can he be trusted? And what is next? Thank you for your time and attention. I hope you give my words some weight and thought. If the city decides to allow this Act to be passed I promise my energy and resources will be put to use to answer those questions even if the city chooses not to.</em><br /><br />With that statement and with the passing of the Citizens Crime Fighting Act, Hero Watch was born.Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-85816497676957442772007-09-24T14:46:00.000-06:002007-09-26T15:41:00.518-06:00Part 28: Enemies List (Part 2)Frozen Passion spoke first. “I hope you understand why we did this. You looked over the CD-Rom, right?”<br /><br />I nodded. “You could have asked me, you know.” my voice was cold. I just hoped the hurt didn't show through.<br /><br />“If you were an impostor you would have denied it, true?” Grace interjected.<br /><br />“I suppose so. But that doesn't make up for the fact that I am your friend. All of you. We've fought so many battles together......cheated death.....saved countless lives and helped the city.”<br /><br />Frozen Passion answered “Look, suspicions were high. What happened to you was strange...suspicious even. We all gave you the benefit of the doubt. We did. Until that disk ended up on my doorstep. My doorstep.” She looked at me eyebrows aloft, waiting for me to get it. I didn't.<br /><br />“I'm sorry, maybe the coffee hasn't kicked in yet, but where are you two going with this?”<br /><br />“Mental, we believe you now. We really do.”<br /><br />“Why thank you very much.” my voice dripping with sarcasm.<br /><br />“Ok, I guess we deserve that. Look for my part in this I apologize....” said Frozen contritely.<br /><br />“....and I do not.” Grace said defiantly. She was after all an absolutest. The universe was very white and very black. In her world gray did not exist. I became annoyed.<br /><br />“Grace, I know how you work, and I have always looked up to that part of you. You act with a steel will and you have the strongest of convictions. I get it. But give it a rest, will you? I mean seriously you all acted on impulse without even checking if the source material was valid. Did you think of that?”<br /><br />“You WERE in the Rogue Islands correct?”<br /><br />“Yes. I was. Trying to figure out what happened to me. Turned out to be a big dead end anyway....”<br /><br />Frozen interrupted what was soon to be a heated argument. “Let's not do this. Let's talk brass tax. The truth is Mental, we do believe you and I will speak for the Spartan Guard and say, 'I....we... are sorry.' But we did what we thought was right given the situation. Anyway, Grace and I got talking last night about things. Once it was ruled out that you were in fact yourself, other questions started popping up.”<br /><br />Frozen and Princess Grace are well know strategists. They often lead our attacks on villains due to their complete understanding of statistics and tactics. They are number crunchers. They analyze previous battles, break them down, and build new strategies around their findings. They see the details, all of them.<br /><br />“It doesn't make sense." I frowned and rolled my eyes. She obviously noticed. "No, no, not like it is unbelievable. You see we talked and tried to draw conclusions with what we know. Unless it's one enormous coincidence there IS someone behind all of this. Someone went to a lot of trouble to make you look guilty. I mean your powers could have changed and someone could be taking advantage of that fact, but it seems unlikely when paired with your anmesia and the burglary of your apartment. The question is who and why. As a hero it could really be anyone you've fought. Do you really have an arch enemy?"<br /><br />I shook my head no.<br /><br />"Right! For the most part you don't do much solo work. You haven't personally annoyed, bothered, captured, fought, whatever....anyone that we haven't. That would mean that your enemies are our enemies too. And nothing has happened to anyone else. What concerns us is the level of access they seem to have. Medical records, transcripts, they even seemed to know when we all were preoccupied enough to pull this off. Notice how hardly any of us were available? We were all conveniently away from the situation."<br /><br />I nodded in agreement.<br /><br />"Also the villain groups and contacts so far have been pretty low rung. Someone is using them. The Vahz were obviously hired by Council operatives and my guess is this isn't their doing either. Did you ever follow up on the Council lead?"<br /><br />"Well actually right when we learned of a possible connection to them I learned of the doctor in the Rogue Islands, der Schepper. Thinking he could help me I'll be honest I just dropped the Council information. I'm sorry I thought it would help and it turned out worthless."<br /><br />"We need to get on that lead right away." Princess Grace finally interjected.<br /><br />"Then the question exists: Why you?" Frozen continued, " What is it you have done to make someone want to turn us against you? What benefit would anyone get from altering your powers or even your body? You are for the most part a defensive hero. You protect other people more than you harm. I'd find it hard to believe that you have done anything so horrible even to a villain that would warrant this level of attention. True?"<br /><br />"Yeah, you would think, but dealing with villains you know sometimes their actions don't make a whole heck of a lot of sense." I said.<br /><br />"I think we need to start looking away from metas and villain groups, Mental." her tone now softer. She paused, uncomfortable silence then looked away. There is an unspoken law among the heroing community to respect the secret identity. Many heroes nowdays don't really hide behind their masks, now that hero work has become legitimate. There are still many like myself that hide their true identities and live separate lives. Many of my hero collegues do not know who I am and some (those I'm closest to) do know who I am. My father went through great lengths hiding my existance even as a child. Our family was rather influential with the local and world press and as far as the world knew I was never born to one of the wealthiest families of the Northeast. I have since kept the same anonymity chosing to attend only one board meeting a year. Festus serves as my proxy for all other business and consults me for my voting preference when needed. To the world I'm just a PhD that teaches a few classes a semester and studies childhood cancers in a state of the art laboratory. (One funded of course by an "anonymous" donation from a major U.S. corporation.) I have never really felt a need to tell anyone that did know my identity not to tell anyone. The hero world is very tight lipped but they are still human and I'm sure there is gossip.<br /><br />"My family? Is that what you want to know?"<br /><br />Grace looked around. "Well you can't really rule it out."<br /><br />"Mental," Frozen added "You come from a very wealthy and powerful family. I'm sure it's probably pretty certain that the family has it's share of enemies and they are probably capable of obtaining the information on you. Look, I'm sorry to go here I know it's generally frowned upon but...."<br /><br />"No, don't think anything of it Frozen. I don't blame you it's a very strong point. But the truth is the family is merely a ghost in the history of Paragon City. An almost mythical family that disappeared when my dad left. With it our enemies, or rivals, pretty much disappeared as well. Besides ethics were beaten into the heads of the business by prior generations. Honesty and integrity were vital....the family reputation was more important than the money." I could see the disbelief in their eyes. "Look the 'company' is merely a large trust now anyway. It gives out charitable donations and research grants. The actual businesses were sold off to other interests and conglomerate in my fathers years anyway. By the time he disappeared all that was left was his research company. And when we found out he was, well....you know, dead. It was sold. I would find it hard to believe we even have any family enemies still alive." Then I paused as an image hit my memory. Well one family enemy was still alive. But he was the good guy. THE good guy.<br /><br />Princess Grace spoke, "Your family does have a rather checkered past with the meta community. I'm sure there are still grudges."<br /><br />"My father rebuilt many of those bridges that were burnt by prior generations of my family.He didn't hold the same beliefs as the rest of my family. He respected the heroing community. He was a very tolerant man. It is widely known his contributions to a lot of the technology that is being used today to save hero lives."<br /><br />"I can't rule out my family's past. But if it were about the money why hasn't any been taken? And if its about the meta community then why am I still standing here talking to you?"<br /><br />"That's exactly what we came up with and why we were so confused." Grace said. "Just try to think of someone that could want to bring you harm. We are here for you. But we need to get out of your way; it is awful early and you are probably beat. I know I am." <br /><br />"We'll start looking into the Council's connection immediately, if you want."<br /><br />"Thank you, yes I would. Thank you."<br /><br />They spent the next few minutes flirting with Festus and praising his culinary skills (two things the old man didn't mind at all)before I showed my two friends to the door.<br /><br />"Festus."<br /><br />"Yes ma'am?"<br /><br />"No calls. No one. I need to sleep." And I slept for two days straight.Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-56919027309457210772007-07-06T19:13:00.000-06:002007-07-09T09:38:16.431-06:00Part 28: Enemies List (Part 1)My eyes opened and I saw nothing but small slits of light surrounding me. My torso and other exposed body parts itched terribly. I felt a weight upon me ever so slight. Something was on me….burying me. I lay there frozen not from what was on me. Slight movement proved that it wasn’t anything that was going to trap me. I took a few moments to collect my thoughts. Had Festus added more blankets while I slept? When did I get to sleep? The haze of my exhaustion from the trip, the kidnapping, the rescue, the conversation with Smitty , the confusion of the file and what now appeared to be a quart of scotch I’d sucked down after reading it may have something to do with it. Then I heard the scream. It wasn’t human….more animal…pitiful. I began to move…easier than I originally would have thought and got to my knees. My eyes had yet to focus. The itching increased as the items softly fell off me onto the floor. Feathers. I was covered with feathers. I shook my head, half to remove the remnants that stuck to my hair and half to catch my wits. The single sad scream became multiple shrieks as my eyes began to pick up my surroundings. Bars. I was behind bars. Thin bars though that looked weak and easily bent. I felt a wave of nausea as I realized the ground beneath me was moving rhythmically side to side. Feathers blew around me in a slight whirlwind as the volume of the screams grew louder. I spun around in the confusion wiping my eyes to get a better look. Then as the last of the feathers touched ground and my eyes were back to 20/20 the screams ended abruptly. I looked around to realize that I was in a bird cage swinging from the ceiling in what looked to be a little girl’s bedroom. As I stood confused I saw the source of the screaming. At my feet were dozens of dead birds. Dead canaries to be exact.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">Flash!<span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"> <span style="font-size:78%;">I sat up quickly in bed covered with sweat. Another damn dream.</span></span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /><br /></span>I looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand: 3:33 am. I needed some air….needed to clear my head. I threw on a pair of jeans and just tucked my nightshirt into the waste, opened the French doors to the balcony, and jumped.<br /><br />Flying always helps me catch my bearings. It’s also a sure fire way to sober up…..well that and nightmares about screaming dead birds. That will work too. I flew around Founder’s Falls drinking in the late night sights and smells. I saw heroes zipping to and fro. The ones that tend to go out late night always make me laugh. They tend to be the anti-heroes. The dark brooding kind that are either reformed villains, dark magic mystics or monsters. Most of them though are just wannabe’s fed on a steady diet of emo and old horror movies.<br /><br />After a few laps of my surrounding neighborhoods I shot straight up. (I love this part the most) I climbed to just where the air gets a little thin and hover in place, close my eyes and lean back. The ideal air mattress. I have to be careful here; I have fallen asleep a time or two and yes it’s the falling weightless dream come true. But over the years I’ve been able to find and almost meditative state where I can just think or not think. Just catch my bearings. I let my mind go blank….all anxiety gone. I stayed there weight free, thought free until sunrise and flew back home.<br /><br />As I approached Pemiscott Hall I saw two figures lurking out front. I stopped mid-flight just out of their line of sight using the corner of one of the neighboring high rise apartment buildings and watched as the figures seemed to be casing the area. Well I wasn’t prepared for a fight but my head was clear now and I was feeling a little jumpy. I triggered the part in my brain that encased me in a bubble of sonic energy and flew full speed toward the stalkers. Surprise was my ally in this situation. The cool morning air felt good on my face. They had their backs to me. Maybe I’ll just scramble their thoughts long enough to call for back up. No too early in the morning. Maybe one of the emo types will be around. No daylight: their kryptonite. The two figures were costumed; I could see the capes. As I approached I realized they were familiar…friendly. Or were they?<br /><br />I stopped about thirty feet in the air and hovered with them still oblivious to me. They were approaching the front door.<br /><br />“Dear god, what now?” I called to them. Princess Grace and Frozen Passion. “What the hell did I do now? Seriously!” I asked as I floated down to meet the sidewalk in front of them.<br /><br />Holding her hands up (a “I mean you no harm” kind of gesture) “Mental, we need to talk.”<br /><br />These two were friends- good friends- but after the previous night I wasn’t really in the mood for girl talk. I like to pride myself on being proper. When raised in society you are bred to always be polite, even when angry or betrayed. It’s your best weapon. But it was early morning and my feelings were a little more than hurt. (I’d just realized that too, seeing them here at my family home.)<br /><br />“You can apologize later, I don’t have time for this.”<br /><br />“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to apologize.” Said Grace with the same proper tone that I had been raised with. “I did what I thought was right for the safety of our city and country.”<br /><br />Looking a bit uncomfortable Frozen Passion looked at me, “Look, Mental, we believe you. Grace called me. She wanted to talk to you….. we wanted to talk to you. Please?”<br /><br />“Why? What now?”<br /><br />“Ms. Cambridge?” Festus said as he opened the door.<br /><br />“Oh, I was out on a morning flight and these two were coming up…”<br /><br />“Should I call someone?” he said. After all they’d kidnapped him too. Can’t say I blame him.<br /><br />“No, Festus, they are friends.” I said in a way almost surprised. (I learned that tone from Nonna.) “Could you maybe put on some coffee? And a little breakfast?”<br /><br />“Of course.” He said with a sudden spring in his voice. He was actually getting to be a butler for a change. He enjoyed that. “Ladies please come in.”<br /><br />We sat at the breakfast table silent until we’d gotten our first swallow of coffee. Apparently none of us had gotten much sleep. The breakfast smells were intoxicating as we made small talk. (The quality of the coffee, what china pattern was this, beautiful day) Then an awkward silence that I had to break.<br /><br />“What did you want to say?” Time to get to the point.Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-86858841212948102672007-05-30T09:16:00.000-06:002007-09-24T09:51:20.780-06:00Part 27: Three questions over scotchThe next few hours were not easy. Friendships were damaged; alliances strained. No one had been hurt....physically but many egos had been bruised. Medistar and Stellar Knight, longtime friends, helped tremendously. They saw through the confusion and misinformation and helped remind us all that there is a greater good. They reminded everyone that their duty is to protect the people of Paragon City and that was all that Grace and the others were trying to do. They likewise pointed out that the Spartans were acting out of loyalty and the truth; something we all find invaluable. It seemed to calm tempers except for the two princesses: Grace and Troll. They are very similar those two: proud, strong and with a very black&white world view. Altruistic by nature the stain of a betrayal of this nature will be hard to shake for Grace and the words said about Troll's heritage will stay with her for a good while. The others seemed able to move on but I worry about these two. I worry greatly.<br /><br />As the two groups talked and the tension led to friendly chatter which led to old war stories and even some laughter I drifted into my own thoughts. I thought of how I met each one of them in my early days of adventuring. How each of them saved me several times and how I'd done the same for them. Some would feel hurt even angry at the Altairs move on me, but strangely I understood. These were good people; all of them. Being a masked hero takes a toll on ones psyche. Paranoia runs rampant especially when talks of Praetorians start. The conversations continued even after Troll and Grace both decided it best to retire and calm themselves. I remained quiet and to myself; I noticed that Solar was standing alone as well. I went over to reassure that everything was fine but she was somewhere else, in her mind, she looked up and smiled and kissed my cheek. But she was distracted, even muttering under her breath about something. This was a conversation to be handled another time. She is a very powerful witch; gifted beyond measure in her control of fire and kinetic energy. She very well may be one of the most powerful heroes I've known, but there has always been something unsteady about her . It's nothing that is readily apparent on the surface (she is pleasant and sweet with a sharp mind) but if you watch her long enough you start to see slight ticks in her body or whispering things to herself. She sometimes will not speak for hours to anyone then manically ramble on about vast conspiracies.. OCD, bipolar, schizophrenia: I just don't know, but something is there and I worry for her especially now.<br /><br />Per my request, Festus took Frank home after dropping Smitty and me off at Pemiscott Hall. I needed some time alone with my foster father.<br /><br />“You really should think of moving back in now. It is after all yours.” he smiled trying to deflect all the drama of the past few hours. He went to the bar and poured himself a glass of Scotch. He looked at me and I nodded and he poured me a glass as well. “Funny, your dad and I used to have a few drinks and talk about life out on that very porch.”<br /><br />I smiled “Well then lets do that.” It was a put-on smile of course. I was confused and exhausted. I grabbed his elbow as we opened the French doors to the back patio and had a seat.<br /><br />“Frank seems to be a good man, Mandy. Do you see a future for you two?”<br /><br />I thought for a second, “Sure, yeah, I think so.” I took a long sip from the glass and almost vomited. (My god, how did they drink this stuff?) Smiity began laughing as he saw me gag on the very expensive yet very nasty liquor.<br /><br />“Not to your tastes? Heh, you'll get used to it. Usually by the second glass.” he paused looking at the boats on the water of Founder's Falls.<br /><br />“Your dad wasn't much of a drinker either...... You are so much like both of them. You know?”<br /><br />I nodded, fighting the tears as they came to the surface. “What's happening? My world is coming unraveled. My friends, Smitty, my own friends think I'm a monster.”<br /><br />“They do not Mandy, you're just tired. Finish your drink and have Festus draw you a bath and make your bed for you.”<br /><br />“I can do that myself.”<br /><br />“You do pay him for those things you know.”<br /><br />“I pay him, yes, but not to make baths and beds. I hate that and you know it.”<br /><br />“Yes. Yes I do. And that is all your mother.” he looked at me with pride and love. My mother was a fiercely indepenent spirit completely absent were the pretensions of being a wealthy woman. My father was an academic, but also a good son, and knew how to navigate the world of the affluent quite well, but deep down he related to my mothers separation from it.<br /><br />I took another long drink and paused, “Well it's definitely not my grandmother.”<br /><br />We both laughed at my attempt at breaking the tension. Exhaustion and stressed made it the funniest joke in the world and we sat for what seemed minutes laughing at my Nonna's expense. Then there was an awkward pause.<br /><br />“Smitty I want you to ask me the questions.”<br /><br />Without hesitation he looked at me, “That isn't necessary, Amanda, I know its you. You know that.”<br /><br />“I know, but I want to know you know.”<br /><br />“I do.”<br /><br />“Just ask the questions, please, for me.”<br /><br />He looked down uneasy. We had planned this since the day I decided to become a hero. A code, some questions in case there was ever a question about my identity. We'd worked out a complex system of questions and answers that changed depending on time, date and year. Praetorians were the boogie men to the masked hero. Someone that could ruin a reputation and cost lives. They were a menace to us, brought on by the portals. Portals my father helped build.<br /><br />“Question number one: What is the number directly after 1638?”<br /><br />“That is the wrong question.”<br /><br />“Correct. Question number two: What is the thing you want most in the world?”<br /><br />“Nothing.”<br /><br />“Ok. Third question: What is the most beautiful thing in the world?”<br /><br />“The purple and orange glow of Founder's Falls at sunset.”<br /><br />We both smiled and took a long drink together and sat silently for the next thirty minutes.<br /><br />“Doctor would you like me to take you home now?” Festus said after making my bed like I'd insisted he didn't.<br /><br />“Please, Festus, thank you.”he reached into his pocket as he stood and handed me a CD-Rom. “Frozen Passion gave me this to give to you. It's the evidence from this so called informant. She said you may want to look it over.”<br /><br />“Do you want to stay and look at it too?”<br /><br />“No, just fill me in later.” he said as he kissed the top of my head.<br /><br />I sat for a few minutes as they took off in the town car and enjoyed what was now my third Scotch. (They were getting better) I grabbed the disk and my empty glass and headed to the study to see what this “informant had on me”.<br /><br />On the disk was a single folder labeled <em>Mental Maden Mental Maden2 evidence</em>. In the folder was a series of numerically ordered files. The early files were scans of newspaper articles and video files of TV news casts telling the history of the Praetorian threat. Nothing new but a nice compilation. Next was a .pdf transcript of the CHII hearing about me. I did notice some clever editing of the content removing any positive things said about me. Still nothing too compelling in the argument so far: circumstantial....silly. Next were copies of my medical records and details of the changes in my brain and tumor. Including the radiographs. Then came a series of digital photos that made my heart sink. File #105 Me shaking hands with the Arachnos liaison. Then a picture of me with Mr. Wolfe captioned (with known spy and criminal). I quickly went through the series of photos realizing that this did in fact look horrible. There was an article on a break in at the Longbow base and the kidnapping of Dr. dier Schepper. The next photo while out of chronological sequence sealed my fate a picture of me walking out of the secret lab from the day I first met the doctor. It was titled (Seen leaving the doctors lab few days prior to kidnapping). Circumstantial but damning. I ejected the CD-ROM and placed it back in its case when I noticed a note written on the back of the cover.<br /><br /><br /><em>Someone in your circle is NOT who they say they are.<br />Here are some files that I'm sure will cause you concern.<br />It has come to my attention that this person is in fact a Praetorian spy sent to infiltrate your organization to head a full on invasion of our wonderful city.<br />Please look over this evidence with diligence and do what you feel prudent.<br />You may call me,</em><br /><br /><p><em>Dead Canary</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></p></em><br /><strong>What the hell.<br /><br /></strong>Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-76163540437533675892007-05-26T17:20:00.000-06:002007-09-24T09:40:48.973-06:00Part 26: Conflict resolution and the conflicted“Traitor!” she yelled as she came to consciousness, “Traitorous Troll scum! I knew better than to ever trust one of your kind. Some of your green monsters killed my Earthly mother. I knew it!” She fought the stone restraints that the Troll Princess had put on her and the others. She was agitated the most……there is a history of Princess Grace and Trolls. Her Super Group, the Altair Guardians, was also infiltrated by some type of doppelganger making them all very untrustworthy of suspicious situations like mine. But something set them off. Why now? What caused them, my friends, and peers to attack me now.<br /><br />Troll stood proudly, arms crossed, calm like she usually is under pressure. “First of all, none of my people were responsible for your mothers demise I assure you of that. There are many untruths to be said about my people. Many in the science community want people to believe we are all monsters; a by product of the human synthesized Superdine. The truth is we were here way before man’s discovery and distortion of a common plant that we have been using for centuries. No, those are not my people. Those are a bastardization of our bloodline, brought on by man’s encroachment on our lands and misuse of our horticulture. I know Dr. St. John-Smythe and his Institute did much research in the 80s on the Trolls, but I’m afraid many of his conclusions are just wrong. He is an honest man, one I owe my life to, but I’m afraid he and his scientific peers have done irreparable damage to the proud children of Grendel.”<br /><br />“I don’t want to hear your propaganda, Troll.”<br /><br />Voice only slightly raised, “Secondly, this was no double cross I assure you and my other friends. I sincerely apologize for the way we stopped the raid but I was given last minute information that could not be confirmed in time. I tried to stall but you….YOU…insisted.”<br /><br />Grace looked me in the eye. “Praetorian! Let me go and I’ll apprehend her.”<br /><br />Speeding forward was the much overmatched teenager, Winterflux. “You won’t lay a hand on her space woman! Not if I have anything to say about it!”<br /><br />“Enough little one” boomed the voice of the alien Tellania, one of my oldest and dearest friends. She grabbed Winter’s shoulder gently. Onceti May, Hoard of Souls and Medistar stood in the background on guard but silent. “Look, I apologize that we have you restrained and I hate that you feel betrayed. I understand your being upset but time would not allow us to explain things we had to act swiftly so you wouldn’t harm Mental. She is innocent of your charges.”<br /><br />“Explain the missing fingerprint and DNA identification. Explain the differing medical information.” She stopped when she noticed the surprise on our faces. “Yes, you see we have inside information as well. Privileged information that you were suppressing” she pointed at me. She continued, “What I don’t understand is how you all can actually believe that she is not a Praetorian? I mean….”<br /><br />“Let me say something,” Frozen Passion interrupted her cohort “Ever since I got word of this ‘thing’ that happened to you I have had my suspicions. You aren’t the same…..”<br /><br />“I’m quite aware of the changes. I’m living them and trying to figure this thing out as well but I assure you that I AM ME!” I began to sob heavily.<br /><br />“Let me finish, please.” She looked at her captors, the Spartan Guard, her team members and closest friends. “Mental Maden has always been a friend to the Guard and to Graces group, but I am convinced this isn’t her. In my gut I know it and I’m not going to let us get infiltrated by one of them. She is not one of us…never has been. Sure she’s teamed with us and all but she is not a Spartan. Why protect her? Why?”<br /><br />The normally quiet Medistar walked forward. He is a man of few words and what he says usually carries weight with those who know him. “I’ve known this woman longer than any of you. We have fought many battles against the worse foes this city has known. Praetorians being just one of those groups. We all know her; show her some respect. I too am not affiliated with either of your groups but I think all of you trust me. She is Mental Maden, leave her be please. At least hear her out.”<br /><br />“Leave it to an empath to be swayed too heavily by his emotions.” Frozen Passion said with venom. “She is not Mental Maden.”<br /><br />“She…..” we were all knocked back by a precise explosion that broke their stony shackles and sent shrapnel flying in all directions. Stellar Knight, traps and munitions specialist. Tricky. Tricky.<br /><br />Stunned but unharmed the two groups looked at each other for what seemed an eternity. They assumed defensive positions and waited for the first person to strike. I stood in between the groups face full of tears and I did something unexpected. The fear, pain and anger all bubbled to the surface as that little part of my brain that was once a tumor violently began vibrating sending a shockwave to the ground. I screamed in terror and agony as the floor became liquid from the harsh oscillations emanating from inside my head. Everyone fell to the ground stunned unable to move.<br /><br />“Stop this now! Stop fighting! NOW! I have been your friend…your colleague. I am not what you say I am .”<br /><br />“Prove it then” Frozen Passions said as she stood.<br /><br />“I can’t, I don’t know whats happened……”<br /><br />“We can.” Tellania said confidently, my head whipped in her direction in disbelief.<br /><br />“And how do you plan to prove that?”<br /><br />“If we can talk privately away from Mental I can explain.”<br /><br />“Away from her??? Why can’t you say it in front of her? Shouldn’t she already know this great proof of yours?”<br /><br />Now I was even more confused.<br /><br />“It’s a sensitive matter. I think it best we tell her separately….not under these circumstances. You don’t understand.”<br /><br />“Oh, I understand completely. Stop with the lies and trickery and just hand her over…”<br /><br />“Wait. Wait. If we can prove that she is not a Praetorian can we put an end to this conflict and move on?” Tellania said in near desperation.<br /><br />“If you have proof I will apologize and beg you for my forgiveness.”<br /><br />Frozen Passion interrupted, “How can you prove that she is not the Praetorian Mental Maden? How do you know that?”<br /><br />“Because I killed her. That’s how” said a voice from the shadows. “I killed her Praetorian myself.” The statuesque figure of Solar Mistress walked into the room. She seemed somber her head down as she walked.<br /><br />She looked up at me with tears in her eyes and said to me in her sweet Irish voice “I watched her die myself…..in flames…a horrible death…I can still hear her…your screams. I can still see her….your face in agony. I can still see her…your dead, charred body.” She fell to her knees in grief. “I’m sorry Mental…I’m so sorry.”<br /><br />(To be continued)Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-9060273515686300292007-04-27T20:58:00.000-06:002007-04-29T09:04:18.164-06:00Part 25: ConfrontedI was halfway back to Paragon City when I excused the steward to give me some time to myself. The moment he disappeared to his area I broke down and began to cry. What was I doing and what was happening? A lifetime of tragedy had built me into a rather stoic woman. I didn’t cry much at all and really didn’t think much about my emotions. I’d been to more funerals and memorials in my childhood than most people do in a lifetime. Death and sickness seemed to follow me and my loved ones. But it had strengthened me. I was unflappable. But I was breaking down.<br /><br />Thoughts of the years of cancer treatments rushed into my head. The unknown and potential to die as a little girl. Learning of not only of the death of my aunt and uncle, my cousins, my dearest mother and my father; all by the age of 18. I made it through all of that. Went to college and received a PhD by the age of 25. I was majority owner in a major technology conglomerate, taught college, watched the love of my life leave me with no good reason and finally buried my mentor and my grandmother within weeks of each other. All of this with very few tears shed. Sure I did cry a bit; I was a normal person emotionally but things tended to not bother me. I took pride in my strength and was praised by my new friends and surrogate family. But this, this thing that was happening to me was stirring a whirlwind of despair in me I hadn’t felt. It was out of my control. I didn’t know what had happened, what was happening and what would happen to me. I searched for answers and found nothing but a dead end. I knew less than I did before the trip. What to do now? Was it worth doing anything for that matter?<br /><br />The jet began its approach into Paragon City and I quickly cleaned myself up erasing all signs that I had been crying. Frank was meeting me at the airport and I didn’t want him to see me upset. I just wanted to rest in his arms in bed after a hot bath and sleep for days. I hadn’t felt comfort and love like this in years and it was the balm that I so longed for for so long.<br /><br />Walking slowly down the stairs toward the tarmac I hadn’t realized how tired I was. I ached everywhere thanks to the Longbow and their interrogation techniques and I was still in the same clothes I came in. It was a breezy night and a small drizzle hit my face and helped me catch my senses. It woke me like a shot of espresso. I looked to the limousine waiting for me and saw Festus coming toward me to get my bags. He smiled and said nothing but a brief hello. He could see I was tired. Or he knew what I was in for. Then I saw the two figures standing by the towncar and realized myself what I was in for. Two outlines in the night but I knew exactly who it was: Frank and Smithie. I was about to get lectured by the two men in my life and I don’t think after my little meltdown in the jet that I could handle that tonight. As I approached the car the lights of the airport showed their faces. Serious. Business-like. Unhappy. Worried.<br /><br />“Amanda, I hope you don’t mind I came along with Frank?”<br /><br />Head down in shame I just shook it no. I looked up, “I’m sorry I know you want to lecture me but please not right now I’ve had a bad night and I just want to…….”<br /><br />A sudden chill in the air hit me harder than the drizzle of rain. I was awakened and hyper aware. Then I heard a voice.<br /><br />“Stand aside Dr. St. John-Smythe, Detective. We want to talk to her.” I knew the voice but couldn’t see where it was coming from. A wall of earth erupted in front of me, separating me from my ride home and my loved ones. I heard struggling behind that wall and new someone was restraining the three men that came to take me home. As I turned to see where the assault was coming from I saw a fist glowing red with energy just as it hit me in the temple. All went black for a few seconds.<br /><br />I came to looking up from the tarmac at faces I was familiar with unsure of what just happened. They were friends, they must have saved me, but who attacked me? A ring of friends and acquaintances stared down at me. To my left was Princess Grace, an almost invulnerable martial artist. The armored gadget specialist, Stellar Knight, stood next to her holding onto something metallic. To my right was a very familiar face, the Troll Princess, fierce and serious staring at me. My thoughts became clearer and I felt nervous as my mind started putting things together. As I looked to the person in front of me I realized these people didn’t save me, they attacked me. A walking block of ice stood before me hands still glowing red with energy. The coldness….the stunning energy punch. They came from Frozen Passion, someone I had fought crime with, talked with as a friend. All of them, they all knew me. What? What was going on?<br /><br />“Praetorian! Stand up!” she ordered to me.<br /><br />“What? What the hell…..Frozen? What are you talking about?”<br /><br />“We all gave you the benefit of the doubt after your little ‘power change’ and your ‘memory loss’” she said using those annoying finger quotation marks indicating she didn’t think the words true, “but after finding out you had gone to the Rogue Islands I couldn’t stand around any longer and let one of you infiltrate our circle of heroes."<br /><br />“Frozen, this is insane. You know me. You all know me.” I looked at each face and saw the dead eyes of people who didn’t believe me. Suzannah Stonehands, the Troll Princess, radioactive controller of earth and stone grabbed my arm and helped me stand.<br /><br />“You have a lot of explaning to do….”<br /><br />“Mental Maden, are you ok?” Smithie said in a calm voice. I looked in their direction and saw the wall of earth had gone and they stood on guard but respectful of the powerful people that had attacked us. I shook my head and looked at Frank as he started to slowly put his hand behind his back.<br /><br />Calmly I said, “Frank, I beg you not to pull your gun. Please, honey.” A blue blur zoomed past me frictionless in air.<br /><br />“I would suggest the same Detective.” Said the almost robot-like Stellar Knight. “I’m holding a rather nasty explosive device. If my thumb should happen to come off this button, well, lets just say it wouldn’t be pretty.”<br /><br />They were serious. They did NOT believe I was who I said I was. Who I know I am. This situation just became complicated and the two most beloved people in the world were now in danger. Frank’s hands immediately went up.<br /><br />“Ok, ok Hero.” He said with a voice dripping with venom and sarcasm. “You do realize you are endangering a decorated hero of Paragon, a PPD Detective and a rather influential member of the city government all for some paranoid theory. She is not who you think she is….”<br /><br />“We are the only ones acting for the safety of the people of this city and this country, while you blindly fall for her Praetorian lies. I have fought her people Detective, have you?” The question was rhetorical and insulting. He was reminding Frank who really had the power. Many heroes viewed the police as weak and helpless against the real problems that the city faced. He was drawing a clear line. You could feel it.<br /><br />Troll was still holding onto my arm and I felt it tighten on my arm. I felt her warm breath as she whispered in my ear, “Duck, in three seconds.” One. Two. Three. I ducked and looked up as a yellow electromagnetic pulse radiated out from the Troll Princess. The bodies of my captors and my loved ones dropped to the ground as the lights and machinery around us went black.<br /><br />“The bomb!” I yelled as the metallic orb rolled away from Stellar Knights now limp body.<br /><br />“Don’t worry, the EMP will have fried its circuits long enough” she said as she motioned to the object which became encrusted with several feet of rock. “There, completely safe.”<br /><br />“What is going on Suzanna?”<br /><br />“I’ll explain later,” she said before letting out a loud whistle.<br /><br />From the shadows appeared more familiar faces. My closest friends, the ones I’ve needed since this all happened. The empathic Medistar and the powerful alien Tellania walked toward me. The katana wielding Hoard of Souls came out from the shadows of the G-4. Speeding toward me was the smiling face of Winterflux, tears were in her eyes as she hugged me. I felt a gust of wind hit my face as Onceti May landed on the ground with a mist of clouds covering her.<br /><br />“Quickly restrain them and take them all to the base. They are not going to be happy with us when they come to.” Tellania ordered as an unmarked van approached. “Good work, Spartan Guard. Medistar, revive her people and meet us back at headquarters.”Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-21490902026231876422007-03-11T13:17:00.000-06:002007-03-11T17:26:52.015-06:00Part 24: Codename-Pox, In her words (Part 4)<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ErlrNRAtplQ/RfRdXSjVrEI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0fnQjno5jic/s1600-h/pox+story.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5040756537632861250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ErlrNRAtplQ/RfRdXSjVrEI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0fnQjno5jic/s320/pox+story.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:78%;color:#009900;">The mysterious woman removed her coat and hat and I was repelled at first sight. Battle torn, she was nothing short of Frankenstein’s Monster: Codename-Strike. Her face bore three long scars: pink and raised ruining the landscape of a once beautiful face. Her left arm was prosthetic from the elbow down and she walked with a decided limp. She wore a set of plain black tights with a white band around her right bicep. She handed us each a similar set of tights. Mine had a green band and Glimpse’s band was pink. We trained 6 days a weeks for three months on hand to hand combat (Glimpse was surprisingly good, but not a threat) and defensive techniques. When we weren’t doing physical training we were in a classroom learning about world politics, justice, and law. We also were taught demolition, first aid and even taught some basic skills in various languages.<br /><br />We had been selected to be part of a covert government unit. We would deal with really bad people that the government couldn’t get to either politically or logistically. In our young age even after weeks of training we really didn’t realize what it was they wanted us to do: Assassination. Glimpse was not a strong or valuable fighter as would be obvious but she could protect herself. Her abilities were vital to our future operations and I was amazed by them. She was what they called a seeker/locator. She could sense the location of any human being on the planet and locate them simply by pointing and giving precise distances to the person. If you gave her a map or globe and traced the mileage conversion key with her finger she could point to the person’s exact location on the map/globe. And all she needed to do this was prior contact with the person or an item that the person had handled or wore. The more contact she had with someone the stronger her abilities were. She was not psychic but she could pick up sensory input of the target. If she had enough physical contact with the person she could literally hear what they heard and could mimic those sounds to the point of fooling even sophisticated audio software. She was a human bug and GPS rolled into one. It was her job to find our targets, track their movements and make sure we had the right person. It was my job to “pass on” to them. We were the perfect assassins. Young girls who could literally walk up to someone in a public setting and I could touch them and in a few days or weeks the person would die of an exotic communicable disease that doctors wouldn’t be able to cure and no one would ever know how, when or who. We attended a victory parade after a military coup put a socialist dictator into power in a Central American country. He was a known drug trafficker and sold homeless children to the drug cartels for slave labor. He was so proud as he shook my hand and took Glimpse’s victory bouquet. He died of Cholera within a week. An arms dealer in Thailand died mysteriously of Swine Flu. A pederast pornographer was so glad to meet me in a fast food restaurant but didn’t know that he would die from tertiary syphilis after I left the building as he went to the restroom. An African dictator and committer of the genocide of 300,000 people died of Dengue Fever after visiting Germany; very unpleasant. A CIA agent selling arms secrets to China passed away from small pox.<br /><br />We worked as a duo for three years and were very effective. Each mission presented a different hurdle that we could usually handle but some missions were scrubbed when we couldn’t make contact. Luckily they brought in another to our group. He was a skinny pimply faced boy with jet black hair. He wasn’t cute in the traditional sense but he was mercurial and charming and a constant flirt and practical joker. He was Codename-Figment. Father lit up when he explained his powers to us. He was able to warp reality. If a door was locked he could unlock it. If something was broken he could “unbreak” it. His powers were impressive but limited to relatively small objects. What he was very useful at doing was making someone invisible for a few minutes. (The only thing he seemed to be able to do to living objects) While mine and Glimpse’s powers seemed more natural to us his seemed to be grounded in a small ritual. He would have to concentrate (usually with eyes closed) and touch his palms together as if in prayer. He would usually site a change he wanted, “The door is locked” open his palms which produced a brilliant yellow flash “The door is unlocked”. He made missions much easier as we could get to much harder to reach people. We loved our jobs and performed above Codename-Strike’s and Father’s expectations. We worked together for three more years as a trio. They moved us in together in a renovated section of the lab complex called the Dorm. We each had our own suite and a common dining hall. We enjoyed each others company and while it was not my nature I made two friends. The twins were thriving in their environment and coming into their own. Soon they would begin their training and joining the team.<br /><br />Our record of mission completions was impressive and it seems the government was interested in giving us more funding and training. Strike was joined by Codename-Blaze and Codename-Amp both retired heroes. They began training us in more advanced combat techniques. I learned that I had range abilities as well as my “passing on” skills. While they weren’t full on diseases they were effective at making the targets weaker and dealing decent damage. They may not have had the same end result they were instant and could be needed if we were ambushed or attacked. They also brought in an empathy to help me improve my healing skills. Glimpse began honing her bugging skills and even had success in tracking multiple targets. Figment grew exponentially more powerful. He learned to teleport objects and the object his powers could work on became much larger. He really no longer needed to unlock doors. He would just create one in a solid wall. While we were more effective the jobs became much more difficult. I usually had to engage the occasional security guard and at times we’d come back a bit bruised and battered. It was time to bring in some firepower. Just after my 18th birthday I met Codename-Shrapnel.<br /><br />He had to leave college and the prospect of an NFL career when he discovered he could make solid objects explode by making their particles expand quickly. He had great control over his abilities with just a short time having them. He could be in contact with a piece of stone and just by touching it turn it into a devastating weapon and not have a scratch on him. It seemed he innately expanded the air around himself in such a way his explosions couldn’t cause himself harm. He could also delay the explosion of an object for a few seconds which allowed him to turn anything he could throw into a grenade. He was the firepower we needed and did his job well. It seems the government was becoming more interested in instant results compared to my techniques and Shrapnel was very helpful in those aspects. He was brash, obnoxious and cocky. The stereotypical jock and I instantly hated him but could not deny a burning physical attraction to his Adonis like appearance. While the team was made much better with his addition we usually spent trips home arguing with each other, which fueled a growing sexual tension between the two of us. Luckily Figment was always on hand to quell my desires with his typical hi jinx. After a year of teaming together and fighting constantly in the Dorm and on the job we gave in to our passions. Neither of us was interested in anything more than the physical and did not share any intimate time with each other. No one knew of the relationship although there were times I worried that Glimpse would figure it out as she had grown a bit of a crush on Shrapnel. But she never used her spying skills on anyone but a target. She was ethical that way……I wasn’t. Then again I was a bit of a sociopath anyway. You had to be to kill people with diseases. I had no real regard for humanity with the exception of my sisters and my surrogate father. I did have somewhat of an affection for Glimpse and Figment but I would deny it if you asked me. The three of us became quite close and usually stuck together while Shrapnel usually spent time watching his jock-sports or working out. He had a penchant for bully like behavior and giving demeaning nicknames. He was especially tough on Figment often questioning his manhood but always in typical jock fashion hugging the skinny boy’s neck and saying “just kidding.” Figment eventually admitted to me that he “liked” me and it actually hurt me to turn him down. But he continued to joke and flirt and be himself asking me every few months if I’d changed my mind and every few months I’d turn him down yet again.<br /><br />Our missions became much more difficult and we became battle hardened and even my antisocial heart grew quite close to the unit. Figment and Shrapnel began to become close friends and would spend more time together. I felt a tinge of jealousy on nights when he would rather stay up with Figment and play video games instead of our usual “games.” But I wouldn’t admit it to anyone even myself. After a near disaster of a mission, one that almost seriously injured Glimpse, we were given orders to get permanent identification in case we were ever captured by other unknowing, friendly government agencies or police forces. At the base of our necks a red barcode would be tattooed that would give us amnesty if ever captured by friendly forces. We were a covert group: black ops we existed but didn’t exist. This was our only get out of jail free card. And damn it……..it involved another freaking needle.<br /><br />On our way to a target in the Philippines Figment told us to look out the window. He had a new trick to show us. The landscape was tropical and beautiful palm trees lined the roads. He made his prayer motion and filled the van with his bright yellow light and almost as if made of spaghetti five palm trees went limp. Later, down the road he turned a dog into a bright orange turkey. (The first thing I’d seen him do to a living object outside invisibility) After we’d filed the report of the operation we were met by our trainers and Father and lectured for several hours regarding proper protocol on a black mission. Figment was devastated and apologized to us for days. We next went to a former Soviet State to take care of a potential threat to a US ally. It was cold and Figment wanted to get the mission over with quickly. Instead of going by our carefully practiced plans he merely teleported the target to our location for me to “pass on” to him. He also teleported the prostitute in bed with the man who naturally began screaming when she awoke in a bank of snow. Shrapnel told us all to run as he dropped three solid iron balls (his weapon of choice) between the two. The woman died instantly but the General was only wounded and produced a revolver and shot Shrapnel in the leg before a carefully thrown iron ball exploded next to his head. When it seemed clear I ran to Shrapnel and helped heal his wound enough until we could get back home. We all fought on the way home but it was nothing compared to what we received when we returned to the Dorm. Again Figment apologized profusely to us and our superiors explaining he was merely cold and wanted to get the mission over with. Shrapnel ended the session dressing Figment down not for getting him shot but for disobeying orders. He then went on to give a speech about teamwork and obeying the orders of superiors. For a brainless jock, he was a fierce, loyal soldier.<br /><br />Missions went off without a hitch and around my 20th birthday my sisters began their training. I taught a few of their classes and was promoted within the organization and given the title of team leader. I was busy but almost happy for the first time in my life. My relationship with Shrapnel continued without anyone knowing. Glimpse and Figment at this point gave up their crushes and began their own little fling. One I wasn’t to approve of as team leader but one I allowed without acknowledging. I never liked hypocrisy. Shrapnel and Figment became very close friends enjoying the rough housing and idiot play that male friends are prone to partake in. One day as they engaged in a food fight in the Cafeteria. (Shrapnel had the edge since all the food became edible yet safe grenades in his hands) Figment made his motions and turned himself into a polar bear and swatted Shrapnel across the room. True to his jockboy nature he laughed haughtily after Figment changed back and threw an exploding cherry pie perfectly in Figments face.<br /><br />We were sent on a mission to Afghanistan where the conditions were terrible and extremely dangerous. We were to simply take out a terrorist cell leader and come home. The mountain compound was heavily guarded and booby trapped. We staked out the area for days but had a difficult game plan. Stealthing it would be difficult because of the mines and IEDs. The target was deep in the compound and based on what we could translate from Glimpse’s bugging/mimicry heavily guarded. We spent days trying to decide a game plan to no avail. Finally Figment put his hands together and said “This compound exists.” FLASH “This compound doe not exist” Everything on the mountain disappeared: the buildings, fortifications, machinery, artillery and even the people. Pulling this trick severely weakened Figment. I had to speed up his metabolism and even heal him as he went into seizures. On the way home when asked where everything went, he merely replied, “To unreality.” We didn’t’ know what it meant. Expecting a verbal lashing when returning instead we found a very nervous staff when we arrived at the Dorm. We were told by Blaze that a very dangerous arch villain was in the area and Strike and Amp need us immediately. Before we left the Doctor wanted to brief each of us individually. This mission was different, much more difficult. I went in first and was told to keep the team together, we would meet up with Amp and Strike and to follow their orders to the letter. The villain would be in a long grey cloak and must be stopped. Shrapnel went in next and came out nervous. Figment was given his orders next and came out laughing as he and the Doctor often liked to tell each other dirty jokes. Glimpse was told she needed to stay in the Dorm that the mission was too dangerous and we already had confirmation of the location since Amp and Strike were serving recon. We all wore our black uniforms. (Something we never did outside of training) Me with the green band, Figment with royal blue and Shrapnel with silver. Blaze was taking us to the location. When we arrived he looked at us and told us to be careful and efficient and obey all given orders. Figment would approach with invisibility on himself and Shrapnel and release it only when they were ready to engage. (His invisibility tended to knock your perception down and make any attacks completely inaccurate.)<br /><br />We arrived at an abandoned warehouse in a decaying part of town. We entered the building and saw the mysterious cloaked figure standing alone in the middle of the enormous main room. It appeared that the figure was performing some type or rite or spell unaware of our presence. We were told to stop what they were doing that it could potentially bring on great devastation to the world. I hid behind a support column as told and Figment and Shrapnel approached unseen until their designated location. Although the plans were last minute we were a seasoned team. I thought back to the words of encouragement Father had given me and felt the excitement of the mission. As Figment dropped the stealth and Shrapnel prepared for his attack the figure turned to their direction. A familiar voice shouted, “Now!” as their cloak fell to the ground and I saw a black figure with a white armband on the right arm.<br /><br />“Oh my God, it’s Strike, Strike is the target!” Figment exclaimed as he began to put his hands together.<br /><br />“I’m afraid not, Figment. .” She said as Shrapnel grabbed the skinny boy’s right arm in a hammerlock and placed his left hand on Figment's raven black hair. "You are."<br /><br />“I’m sorry buddy,” Shrapnel whispered. Figment was helpless. I stepped out from the column and screamed just as Figment was vaporized by his best friend and my lover. A warm spray of crimson liquid washed across my face even though I was 10 yards away.<br /><br />I ran towards Shrapnel ready to strike. What had just happened? A blood soaked Strike looked my direction. “Stand down Pox. Stand down. He had his orders.” Amp came out from the shadows and positioned himself between me and Shrapnel. I stood shaking as they lead me to our van. The ride back to the Dorm was dead silent. Father was waiting in the briefing room looking very concerned. I sat in my seat completely mute for a few minutes until my shock boiled over into rage. I exploded with a barrage of epithets and curses overtaken by hysterics. The Doctor let me finish. When I was done and had exhausted myself he spoke very calmly.<br /><br />“Figment was becoming too powerful. He was a danger to the team, to himself and to the world. We don’t know the potential of what he could do but we couldn’t risk it. We completely underestimated his powers and what he was able to do in Afghanistan quite frankly bordered on god-like potential. We had to stop him before something terrible could happen. We feared he could gain the power to stop reality globally maybe universally and that kind of power can corrupt someone’s judgment. You all were at risk………..we all were……humanity was. And we had to stop him from getting more powerful. I am sorry but it was my decision and one I take full credit for. Do not be angry at Shrapnel, Pox, he did as he was ordered.”<br /><br />“And what if he didn’t do as planned, Father? What then?”<br /><br />“Well Shrapnel has always proven a faithful soldier and I knew that he would do as asked”<br /><br />“How could you!” I screamed at Shrapnel tears filling my eyes.<br /><br />“He’s right Pox and you know it.”<br /><br />“It didn’t have to be this way.”<br /><br />“It had to.”<br /><br />“No it didn’t!” he then stood up with his own tears flowing and looked at me.<br /><br />“Yes I did! They said that if I didn’t finish Figment, that they would kill you. Amp was there to kill you if I didn’t comply.” I lost my breath and almost fainted when my train of though was broken from a voice at the doorway. A sweet mouse-like voice: Glimpse.<br /><br />“Where’s Figment, I can’t find him.” And then I watched as her innocent face saw the world for what it truly was. Ugly and black stained with the presence of humanity. She couldn’t find his trace out in the world anymore. She fell to her knees. I left the room for the med lab. The sounds of her cries echoed down the halls as I walked but they didn't seem to lessen even with distance. I still hear them in my nightmares.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:78%;color:#009900;"><br />I locked the door behind me. I looked in the mirror and saw the slash of coagulating blood on face. I reached into a drawer and pulled out the tattoo needle and the red ink and permanently marked my face where the remains of my friend landed. It was my Scarlett Letter, my self punishment, my protest, and my resignation letter. I heard Father and the staff consoling Glimpse and saw that Shrapnel was in his room staring blankly at the wall. His innate power made it so he didn’t have blood on his hands. He was clean. And while I know he would have done it without the threat on my life it stopped him from hesitating.<br /><br />“You will do one last thing for me. I demand it.” I stated. His head shook while staring at the floor; afraid to look me in the eyes.<br /><br />I went to the older section grabbed the twins from their beds and met him at the locked entrance to the facility. I knew they would put us in lockdown. Still looking at the ground he touched the door as we hid around the corner and he blew it open. Holding my sisters hands I walked past him without looking and stopped. “Stay here” I told them.<br /><br />I turned back to him and he raised his head and our eyes met for the last time. I saw the sorrow in them. I could see the regret in them. I could feel the love in them. I reached up and touched his cheek. A tear went down his face and he told me he loved me. I said nothing and walked away with my sisters into the world. A new start. Some day we would return to kill our father.</span><br /><br /></div><p><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:78%;color:#009900;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color:#000000;"></span></span></span></p><br />She finished talking and stared at me for a moment then reached for something on the table in front of her.<br /><div><br /></div><p><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:78%;color:#009900;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color:#000000;">She threw down a series of surveillance photos of the Doctor dated the week I lost time and my powers. "They are accurate I assure you. There isn't a person alive I hate more than that man but I assure you he had nothing to do with what is happening to you. I'm afraid you followed a cold lead. And he told me to tell you something before I killed him. He said to tell Mental Maden it wasn't her. He was sure it wasn't her. So he was just a confused old man when he first met you." She looked at me with cold eyes. "Don't come back here, don't pursue me for the death of that man, my father. "</span></span></span></p><div><br /></div><p><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:78%;color:#009900;"><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000000;"></span></span></p><div><br /></div><p><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:78%;color:#009900;"><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000000;">"It doesn't have to be this way. You don't have to be this way." I said.</span></span></p><div><br /></div><p></p><div><br /></div><p><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:78%;color:#009900;"><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000000;">"I am who I am, Maden. I'm the daughter of a dead drug dealer and a common whore and I was adopted by a complete monster and used as a weapon for his and others political agendas. Which I did with faithful loyalty and commitment until they betrayed me and my team proving at that moment that they were no different than the people we were fighting. Good and bad don't exist. Humanity does not know good anymore. I tried the 'hero thing' and it just didn't take. This is my destiny." she paused in careful thought " I hope my willingness to help you with your quest (although you didn't get the answers you wanted) and my providing proof and giving you priveleged information is enough to insure a level of trust and respect between us. I do like you, but if I see you again and you compromise that respect by trying to 'take me down' or apprehend me or my associates, I will kill you."</span></span></p><div><br /></div><p><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:78%;color:#009900;"><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000000;"></span></span></p><div><br /></div><p><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:78%;color:#009900;"><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000000;">With that she escorted me out and I left the Rogue Islands.</span></p></span><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:78%;color:#009900;"><div><br /><br /></span></div><br /></span>Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-10455497902047726012007-03-05T19:54:00.000-06:002007-03-06T09:57:16.300-06:00Part 24: Codename-Pox, In her words (Part 3)<span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;color:#009900;">The doctor asked the nice woman to leave us alone and we talked. I was amused by his voice and his eyes were kind. He talked to me with no pretense or condescension. He told me that he thought my sisters and I were special and he was an expert with “special” people. He then told me that there was no record of any living family and the state would be placing us with foster families. That word “families” scared me. They were going to separate us and I could not let that happen. He then told me that I was the oldest and asked if we may want to go live with him. He could test us and see what made us special and see if he could fix us. If we wanted to be fixed. I quickly accepted. I had to keep us together.<br /><br />We were kept in isolation even from each other. We had no human contact except through biological suits and rubber gloves. Our foods and any personal items were passed through hermetically sealed drawers. The facility was obviously some type of laboratory but apparently he lived there as well. We were fed well and I was given school lessons by various nurses and even the Doctor himself. For the most part it was not unpleasant, until they started testing us. More needles. I hate needles and there seemed to be an endless supply of them. After nine months they reduced our quarantine and a suite was set up for the three of us to live in. We had school at regular hours and were allowed to play, but there were always needles and tests. But for the most part we were happy because we were together.<br /><br />It seemed I had the ability to pass on pathological symptoms to other people without the actual pathogens. It was a unique ability one they had never seemed. They would bring various animals in for me to touch and “pass it on”. When they took the animals away they told me that they had to “go make them better”. Anytime I asked them to see them though they made excuses. It didn’t take me long to realize that they weren’t making them feel better. I began to imagine the fates of the rats, rabbits and cats they brought me and I cried. It was only after I cut my finger on a broken dinner plate and healed the wound that they saw the true nature of my powers. I was able to manipulate the metabolism of living cells (mammalian cells) to the point of pathology or accelerated growth. My powers they said had great potential. I was a very special girl. My sister’s power remained very immature; as they were so young and it would take years before they really manifested them.<br /><br />I accelerated in my studies and was given my high school equivalency by age thirteen. At that point the Doctor asked me what I’d like to learn about. While I graduated at an accelerated pace I was far from a prodigy. Any child given the opportunity to learn with no outside distractions would do the same. I had high reading comprehension and enjoyed philosophy and the humanities. He gave me all the reading and study materials and we would have weekly one-on-one discussions about all aspects of philosophy. He would always try to steer me toward the classic concepts of truth, liberty and justice. While interesting I gravitated toward the more esoteric and radical ideologies. This made for long debates that were both frustrating and invigorating. After one very long session about Neitze , Satre and Camus he told me that he found my fathers name. Excited I asked if he wanted to come take us home, the Doctor reluctantly told me he had died years ago. And true to his honest nature and willingness to talk to me like an adult he told me he had died during a drug bust just after my sisters were born. I asked him to leave my room and I didn’t talk to anyone for a week. Even my sisters. Knowing I was angry the staff workers were told to wear bio suits until I calmed down.<br /><br />He came to me a few weeks later excited and anxious. He talked to me about the outside world and what was happening. He realized that we had been kept in isolation but assured us it was for our own good. And to be honest I didn’t miss it. After living the hell that was our life I enjoyed the separation from the exterior world. He asked me if I wanted to be truly special to really make a difference in the world. To which I answered “of course”. After all doesn’t everyone want to be special? He said that people in the government needed people like me to do things to make the world better. That there were people out there that made the world a bad place and we needed more girls like me to take care of things. He said that there were other children (a term I didn’t care for because even at 13 I didn’t feel like a child) that were special too that may come help us some day and would I like to join a team to help the world. “Why can’t I do it alone”, I asked. “Or with my sisters?” He explained they were too young but someday if they wanted to maybe we could. I agreed.<br /><br />He was thrilled and then asked, “Would you like to call me father?” I jumped into his arms and cried as he held me. He pulled away from me after a while beaming with pride and took a moment to think. “We need to train you. You and your new partner. I think you will like her. She’s very special.”<br /><br />I was very nervous about our meeting. I hadn’t seen another person my age, besides my sisters in almost three years. I waited in the conference room both anxious with delight and apprehension. I had been used to my solitary life and had grown accustomed to the situation. My sisters and the doctor were all I needed. The lab workers were merely employees…. needle bearing nuiscenses. But I could see they feared me and that was good enough to know I had that edge on them. The thought of a friend, a real life friend, was exciting and scary. Would she accept me for what I could do or would she think of me as a freak?<br /><br />A shadowy figure in an overcoat and fedora walked in the room. I recoiled for a moment. It was an adult. I began to regret my decision; this wasn’t what I signed up for. Who was this person? How am I going to work with them? Then I saw a skinny hand reach out from behind and grasp the persons arm.<br /><br />“She’s a little shy.” The voice told me. It was a woman’s voice which seemed odd, but it was a pleasant voice. Walking around the figure was a skinny girl roughly my age. She had straight dirty blonde hair pulled back by butterfly shaped barrettes. Her clothes were bright colored (not my taste, I was currently going through a bit of a Goth stage) and hung on her like they were hand me downs from a much bigger sibling. She didn’t look directly at me. In fact she seemed to look around at everything except me. Her head seemed to pivot against normal patterns. Something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t place what it was. She inhaled a deep breath and seemed to look straight at me and smiled her eyes still not looking directly at me but just above me.<br /><br />“Oh there you are!” She said in her squeaky mouse like voice. And as I fixed on her wandering eyes I realized that this girl was blind. She then walked directly up to me dodging the occasional chair and stopped directly in front of me and held out her hand. “I’m Codename-Glimpse, what is your name?”<br /><br />I stuttered. What the hell was this, I thought. A blind girl, what could she possibly do? What good is this?<br /><br />“Oh goodie the doctor is coming down the hall I can’t wait to see him again!” She said with her back to the door and blind no less. Silly girl what was she talking about? And at that moment Father walked into the room smile on his face, eyes lit up with great pride.<br /><br />“Hello Doctor dier Schepper!”<br /><br />“Why hello Glimpse, good to see you.”<br /><br />“And it’s good to see you!” she laughed in a cute girly laugh. The kind of life I could never have yet wished I could. She focused back on me. “What was your name again?” Her blind eyes looking off in the distance unfocused on me. I moved a bit to my left and her hand followed.<br /><br />Embarrassed I stuttered again.<br /><br />“That’s right, dear; we never gave you your codename. What would you like it to be?” he asked with enthusiasm.<br /><br />I hadn’t thought of a name before and I was ready to rid myself of my given name. I paused for several moments and then it just came out.<br /><br />“Pox, call me Codename-Pox” I said with new found pride. A new name. A new start.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span>Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-74530232027346088532007-03-03T16:19:00.000-06:002007-03-03T16:22:49.177-06:00Part 24: Codename-Pox, In her words (Part 2)<span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;color:#009900;">Despite the many requests by the doctors at the hospital for my mother and us to be tested, she insisted there was nothing wrong with any of us. “Look,” she screamed as she showed them she didn’t have any black marks on her arms and neck. We were fine and we were going home. And it was true she didn’t have any black marks on her body. She admitted she didn’t look well but considering she had just lost Stan it was understandable. I stood by her nodding in agreement because she was right; she didn’t have “any Plague”. What she would find later is that she was a little feverish with a general sense of malaise. Again she just figured she was upset by the series of events and needed some rest. The malaise was followed by fever, chills and horrible headaches. She locked herself in her room for days leaving me to tend to the twins. We could here her moans of pain and would only see her when she went for another failed attempt at using the rest room. She asked me to go to the store to get us some food and a laxative for her. I was more than able to handle the task, as I’d been raising the three of us for years to allow my mother her irresponsible, selfish lifestyle.<br /><br />As I walked to the store to do my duties I thought briefly that maybe I should just run away. It would only be a matter of time before the doctors realized that I caused Stan’s death. And as soon as Mother died they would definitely be on to me. I felt bad that I had hurt someone and I even cried in my few quiet moments alone since we came back from the hospital, but another part of me was glad to be rid of Stan. But something told me they wouldn’t understand and I would be taken away from my sisters and they needed me. No, I couldn’t run. I can’t tell anyone what I’d done. My sisters needed their big sister to take care of them and they were too young to run with me.<br /><br />I didn’t see the smoke until I walked into the front door. Damn it, which one of them had gotten into the matches. The fire alarm batteries had been drained for months. I had told mother but she told me to change them. Of course even on a chair I was too small to reach it, so they just went unchanged. I heard my sisters both crying in the living room. I dropped the grocery sacks and ran to the room which was now full of smoke. My mouth dropped when I saw what was happening. Standing in the middle of the room were the shapes of two men completely covered in leafy vines. The figures gyrated as they tried to break free. Their muffled voices were saying something about Stan, a package, where were they. Between them and the source of the fire was one sister blazing in flames. My first reaction was to get some water or the extinguisher under the kitchen sink. Then I noticed while she seemed to be on fire she was actually unhurt. It seemed she was the actual source of the fire. She looked up at me and put a finger to her mouth telling me to be quiet. She then looked down at the floor and concentrated as if stoking the flames around her to light the green vines encasing the strangers. As the men began to scream with pain I quickly snatched up the twins and ran to the front door. They began to cry for our mother. I told them she would be out soon enough. I didn’t go back in to try and save her. I had to look after the twins. A neighbor had seen the smoke when I first entered the house and had called 911. I heard the sirens as I sat the girls down in the front yard. The left side of the house began to glow bright orange as the firemen ran into the house to try to save the others. We were put into an ambulance with our mother who in her current state didn’t even now there had been a fire. Another ambulance carried the burned bodies of the strangers covered with a strange burnt plant matter. I had overheard one of the paramedics explaining to another that they were both alive but one probably wouldn’t make it to the hospital and the other might make it through the night.<br /><br />Since we seemed fine a very nice nurse, I can’t remember her name today, said she’d stay a while after her shift to watch us as they tended to our mother. How long before the doctors or police figured out what had happened? And what would they do to us? Who were those men and why did they want Stan and that box?<br /><br />When the doctors had realized my mother had Typhoid Fever they immediately quarantined us all. While I felt fine and the twins showed no signs of illness either I could here the doctors talk in the hallway about our household. Plague and Typhoid affecting two people in the same household was unprecedented. Apparently the two strange men, both now dead, were low level mob hit men that were carrying enough firepower to start a small war. They couldn’t understand how the men were covered in so much burnt plant matter (which the coroner had noted) and a “specialist” was coming in the morning. My mother died just after 2:00 am of complications from typhoid after she didn’t respond to antibiotic treatment. I was informed by a nicely dressed woman wearing a surgical mask and latex gloves when I woke up in the morning. I cried and she held me tightly like my mother did so few times. Even though I knew I was responsible, my young mind could not handle the unknown prospect of my future and the future of my sisters. While not as powerful I did feel guilt as well. I was a good girl after all. I wanted to be good.<br /><br />The woman sat there and stroked my back and dried my tears and cradled me for an eternity. She told me we would tell my sisters together when I felt strong enough. A voice came from the doorway behind the woman. It was a man’s voice with a heavy accent, “Well hello there little lady. May I have a word with you?” I looked up to see a wild haired bespectacled man in an old brown suit standing in the doorway. He too had on a mask and gloves. I unburied my head from the woman’s shoulder and looked up at him with tear filled eyes. Even though he was masked I could see his smile in his eyes.<br /><br />“May I?” He asked again. I nodded. I had just met the man who would become our father.</span>Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-1171936177800441832007-02-19T19:24:00.000-06:002007-02-19T19:49:37.816-06:00Part 24: Codename-Pox, In her words (Part 1)<span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;">I have chosen in my adulthood not to dwell too often on the events of my early childhood. While one can not deny the impact that one's early years plays on their development; I feel that far too often it is used as an excuse for weakness. I don't talk of these events to illicit feelings of pity or to make excuses for the path I have taken in life, for I am very aware of the things I (we) do. I understand the weight of these actions and accept any punishment or recourse brought on by them. Freudian psychoanalysts, sociologists, or others may think they can pinpoint why it is what I do; and that is fine. I don't care. It doesn't matter, because I am me and I am here right now.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;">My mother was 20 when I was born. She'd dropped out of high school at 16 when her mother died of emphysema and spent the next three years traveling the country to find a purpose in life. Then I came along. While she did seem to have affection for me at times she seemed more interested in the behaviors that left her a poor single mother in a poor town in the first place. The house not only filthy was also cold in the winter and scorching hot in summers. Meals consisted of whatever was laying around the house or bought at the convenience store around the corner. Mother seemed to go there quite often to buy the bottles of cheap wine from the creepy long haired man behind the counter. Sometimes she'd have me sit and wait on the counter while they "looked for something in the back". This seemed to happen when she "forgot to bring her purse." She did try to work but never seemed to work longer than two or three weeks at the same job. We got by on government assistance, running from landlords and the kindness of her men friends that would come and visit her late at night. She would lock me in my room when they came over. I always worried that they hurt her; why else would she lock me in my room</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;">I had no friends and my babysitters were usually old shut-ins that chainsmoked and hit me if I made a noise or touched things. When I was old enough to take care of myself (in my mothers opinion that meant out of diapers) she would leave me alone in the house to fend for myself. I spent most of the time in a corner crying.......hungry. As I grew older I learned to take care of myself and even the house. I still cried. Often. I would sometimes go days without speaking to another person. School came as a huge relief to my mother because to her it was a free babysitter and I would be out of the house. She seemed to be out of work a lot more when I started school and there seemed to be more "male friends" stopping by even during the day. While I did well in school (reading was a favorite subject) I didn't socialize well with other children. I wasn't used to being around them, until my sisters came when I was seven. Mother had called them Her "other happy accidents" and seemed thrilled when they came. Of course I was left to take care of them. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;">After a few more years of unemployment and many "male friends" mother introduced us to a "special" friend, Stan. They had met at Mom's new job and we were going to move into a big house with Stan. Times were good for a while. We ate better and the conditions in the new house were much more comfortable. I still took care of the twins as they would go off for days at a time or stay locked up in their bedroom after nights out with their friends. Stan was a petty criminal on the side but didn't prove to be very good at it. He had several visits from policemen and detectives. He would even spend weeks away from us. Mother would always say "Stan, had to go away for a little while, but he'll be back." Like I cared. It turned out Stan had a penchant for overdrinking and his drunkenness usually led him to beat my mother or me or both.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;">At ten my mother beat me for the first time. The school was suspending me until they had proper immunization records. She had plans this week and didn't really have time to take me to the doctor. I had never seen a needle before and I was ten years old. It was torture and I screamed all the way home and locked myself in my room. Stan came home in a great mood, he had finally made the right connection with the right people. He came in a kissed mother and explained he had a courier job that was going to make them great money. Why was the old one crying, he asked. The door shattered open when he realized it was locked and he drug me still screaming and hurting from the doctor into the living room. "Get the twins, stupid, bring them to the living room." We gather in the living room. Mother and I sat on the couch and the twins sat on the floor under a hanging fern. Stan stood in front of us with mania in his eyes. He explained that a very important man is paying him a lot of money to carry a small box to another very important man. He held the small cardboard box carefully as if it were an egg. He went on to explain that under no circumstances are we to touch the box it was dangerous (or at least the men who wanted him to carry it were dangerous). He would be taking it in the morning to the man and he would get his money. He lit a cigarette and poured himself three fingers of bourbon. He grabbed my mother and groped her as they went down the hall to their bedroom. "And stop crying you little baby!" He screamed as he carried my laughing mother down the hallway. Tears filled my eyes and rage filled my heart. I walked over to the box and picked it up. It was light and whatever was inside contained a liquid. I rubbed my throbbing injection site, picked the box up over my head and threw in to my feet. It made a sickly crunching noise, much louder than I expected. I had just barely seen the bright green liquid seep out of the box when the vapors overtook me. I would have passed out from the fumes had Stan not heard the breaking glass, run down the hall and literally punt me across the living room. In his screaming tirade he beat me like no other time before and probably would have killed me if not for the fire that was now blazing two feet from the twins. He had spit out his cigarette as he was screaming about what I did and what the people he works for will do to him. And in his anger he put out the fire by smashing the fern and pot onto the fire. One ran away as the other lay entangled in the fronds. Bruised and bleeding I limped over, removed the plant from my screaming sister and picked her up. I grabbed the other twin and went to their room and locked the door. I listened as the coward alternated screaming at my mother about her worthless children and crying like a child at the thought of what they would do to him. I heard my mom cleaning the living room. I felt ill......feverish...I broke out in a rash. My throat was soar and swollen. I could not sleep for the aches and pains I felt. Red dots would appear on my body and vanish almost as soon as I discovered them. I itched, coughed, sneezed, vomited and cried through the night. In the morning I felt better.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;">I walked into the kitchen where Stan was having his morning coffee. He looked at me with contempt and hatred. I touched him on his cheek and smiled. He pushed me away but I still smiled. Later that day Stan noticed a black patch forming on his right forearm and small red bumps with white centers on his neck. At 5:00 my mother's screams rattled the house. I walked into their room as my mother cried over his body desperately trying to dial 911. . She begged them to send an ambulance in a hurry as her husband wasn't breathing. Stan was dead.........Bubonic Plague. (Something that would baffle the doctors at the hospital)</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;">We waited for the ambulance to arrive even though it was obvious Stan was gone. My mother lit a cigarette and sat on the front steps of the house waiting for the authorities to arrive. I sat with her and watched her as she began to break down. I touched her hand and she looked down with pride in her tear soaked eyes and took me in her arms and embraced me........I just smiled.</span>Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-1168379886059378942007-01-09T15:43:00.000-06:002007-02-19T19:23:50.083-06:00Part 23: A conversation in a library"Your journey was comfortable? I hope." said the mysterious dark stranger "I am Corrupt Echo, welcome to our home."<br /><br />I didn't know whether I should thank him; I just nodded. It wasn't really a kidnapping but I also wasn't really sure why I was brought here. The base seemed to be a converted warehouse or industrial building. The walls were simple brick with large pipes (for steam or sewage? I couldn't tell) skirting along the walls. The floors though were a beautiful hardwood very new and very well maintained. The hallways were large allowing you to see into other areas all of which seemed to have television monitors, computer equipment and laboratory wares. There also was what seemed to be heavy traffic for a base. The ones I've always visited or raided never seemed this busy. (They must be up to something. Am I safe?) On a couch watching a large monitor were two women of vastly different proportions. One was buxom and Amazonian in stature adorned with chains on her arms and boots. Next to her was the reed thin kidnapper, Yellow, I had seen previously. They seemed interested in a local news cast. Local authorities do not know who stole this magical tome from the gallery but the Rogue Island Police say they have leads. This made them laugh out loud. I didn't want to know. A short cloud of darkness passed in front of me and I could see under the negative shroud the outline of what looked like a teenage girl. A pink blur flew past at blazing speed, silver tendrils seemed to drain from the dark body and go into the pink body that now stopped as it changed directions. The dark one (wearing a similar outfit to my teleporter....must be a group uniform) looked like a slow motion replay during a sports event. The pink blur shot off in the new direction even faster and I heard what sounded like cartoon laughter.<br /><br />"Damn you demented little pixie! Blight, can you stop her?" she said still trying to run but going only inches per minute. Then, Yellow I guess Blight, simply pointed a finger (still relaxing on the couch) at the blur. What looked like the root of a tree just barely peaked out of the ground just enough to send the pink ball of energy toppling into the wall just missing a bank of computer equipment. Coming to rest, upsidedown, was a tiny pointed eared creature. Fey in nature I assumed. It stood up and brushed itself off as the booming voice came from somewhere in the next room.<br /><br />"What is going on in here? The pixie again?" Red appeared from the other room, something that looked like an infirmary. "Innocence Shattered, stop siphoning peoples speed! How many times have I told you?" the little pixie laughed and ran off into another section of the base, her cartoon laughter echoing through the halls. "And Blight, clean that mess up now before it keeps growing." Yellow (Blight) pointed the same finger at the plant and it withered immediately. A fireball from the other hand vaporized it into a puff of smoke.<br /><br />"Sorry, Sis." she said and laughed.<br /><br />"Ok, just be more careful..."<br /><br />"But Gashes asked me to stop her and I......"<br /><br />"Enough Blight." then her attention came to us "Is this her guest?" The dark man shook his head. "I'll take her to Pox.....Come with me, miss."<br />The dark stranger looked at me, "I will leave you with Codename-Singe now, thank you for your cooperation and very nice meeting you." Again I nodded.<br /><br />We walked forward down a short hallway decorated with trophies from their obvious exploits/thefts/adventures/misadventures (to be honest I wasn't sure who or what I was dealing with). I did recognize that they had items from groups I myself had fought in Paragon City. A rifle from a Nemesis soldier and I believe I saw a Rikti gun just as Red pointed me toward a sunken room to our right. It was a nicely appointed library filled with books and lit by Japanese inspired lamps. Leather sofas with a coffee table and magazines centered the room. When she saw I'd arrived Green stood and smiled.<br /><br />"Welcome, welcome to our home, I am Codename-Pox." she walked toward me and held out a hand to shake. I just looked at it. "I assure you of your safety; you are my guest."<br /><br />"Thank you nice to meet you." I said as I tentatively shook back. Her grip was tight and her eyes intense and she smiled at me. She was sizing me up. I had not noticed but a hulking man stood behind her in a corner, hood pulled over his face with arms crossed. As I became aware and looked at him, I felt a little tickle in my brain. A knock on the mind's door. (Thank you, Mother Mental) Door locked. He whispered into her ear.<br /><br />"Thank you , Lord Malevolence, thank you. You may leave us now. Singe you too." her eyes remained on me.<br /><br />"But...."<br /><br />"We will be fine." she said in her smooth, calm voice as she looked at me. "Won't we?"<br /><br />(What could she mean by that?) "Uh, sure, yeah of course." I said nervously. (Damnit don't look weak now. Its what she's looking for.)<br />"Please sit." she said pointing to a couch still looking me coldly in the eyes.<br /><br />"Why am I here?" I asked.<br /><br />"Maybe that is a question I should be asking you? Dont' you think?" she smiled.<br /><br />"I'm here on business......construction. I'm here on behalf of my company to look into the possible acquisition of....."<br /><br />"I find it very hard to believe that your concerns involved Dr. dier Schepper. Last I heard he didn't have very much expertise in construction or steel." eyes laser pointed at mine. Tension.<br /><br />"Last I heard you called him father. That is just as queer. Wouldn't you think?"<br /><br />She smiled and shook her head slightly in agreement and slightly in laughter. "Fair enough. Fair enough. Maybe you can tell me the real reason you are here, Mental Maden. Or is that Mental Maden2 ?" The left side of her face rose in a smirk of pure satisfaction. Our eyes unlocked as I looked down in confusion. She stood and turned away looking among the books on a shelf. "Surprised?"<br /><br />"A little....." (What had given me away? )<br /><br />"Don't worry, my associate couldn't get anything from you." she tapped a finger to the side of her head still facing away from me. "He told me you were here on business and your name was Stephanie Pembroke. I must say, your mental blocks are powerful, Lord Malevolence is quite a powerful mind controller." She turned toward me again grinning and held her hand out to reveal her information. "The professor was holding this when we took him." My file! The scientist picked it up just as they broke into the lab. I was relieved, I hadn't given anything away, not my mind at least.<br /><br />"So you understand why I'm here, then?" I asked as she handed me the file. I inspected it. Good, all accounted for.<br /><br />"Oh, I understand your motives but I don't know why you came here. Dier Schepper is an expert in metas but I fail to see what you could possibly think he has to do with your condition."<br /><br />"Where is he? What did you do to him?" I said frantically.<br /><br />She kept her cool demeanor as I became agitated. "Patience, Mental Maden. I like you. I do. Do you realize how dumb it was .....no I'm sorry..... how dangerous it was to come here. You aren't back to your previous security level; your powers are weakened. Hell there are some of our weaker members here that could take you easily. Anyway you have guts and guts are good enough. Yeah, I think I like you."<br /><br />I clutched the file to my chest and stood. "I don't think there is anything you can do for me unless you can take me to the doctor....."<br /><br />"I can't do that."<br /><br />"And why is that?" she looked in my eye this time I could feel the cold heart that beat in her chest. Chilling.....frightening. She laughed.<br /><br />"Sit please. Just indulge me for a few more minutes. I may be able to answer a few questions for you."<br /><br />"About what?"<br /><br />"Your situation. I can help you. But first I want to tell you about my father. And my sisters. And what he did to us." Her voice was velvety smooth. She had a seductive quality while talking that some speakers have. Not sexual but persuasive.....confident, powerful. A natural leader. I sat back down and listened..............Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-1167782299889113502007-01-02T17:41:00.000-06:002007-01-04T17:14:01.556-06:00Part 22: The wardenI was floating in the darkness and for the first time in a while I felt at peace. It was a beautiful dream like sensation until I tried to open my eyes to the harsh sting of the sunlight. It seemed I wasn't floating but being carried, but who was carrying me? I panicked at first as I regained consciousness. (I was being kidnapped! Oh no!) I squirmed under the tight grasp of my captor but could not budge their iron grip.<br /><br />"Careful ma'am, careful it's just me." It was Mr. Wolfe. My mind was more clear now and my eyes focused on the behemoth carrying me. Where had he been? It was obvious: his suit was charred in places and a large cut was closing over his left eye which by now was the size of a golf ball and a color that I had never seen and never hope to again. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop them. I tried. I did. I put up one heck of a fight. Think I hurt the big one but they out numbered me."<br /><br />"It's ok, Mr. Wolfe, are you alright?" I tried to free myself from his grasp, he had to be tired. "Maybe you shouldn't....."<br /><br />"Don't try to get up I'll carry you. We need to get out of here before more Longbow show up. It may be hard to..... Oh Christ....." he said as the sound of a dozen rifles being cocked and readied interrupted his words.<br /><br />"Halt!"<br /><br />I heard a familiar electrical zap and I felt my transport and myself slowly fall to the ground as I lost consciousness yet again. I would be out for quite some time.<br /><br />I awoke quickly as if I were spring loaded. My mind wasn't completely with me because I had one word on my mind. Chemistry. Yes chemistry. Why chemistry I thought to myself. Why is that word.....Oh of course! Ammonium carbonate, (NH3)2CO3·H2O. I began thinking of the way the molecule looked and how it reacted with water to form aromatic spirits of ammonia. Then my nose exploded and my mind completely awoke as the vapors tore through my nasal passages so strongly I almost vomited.<br /><br />"Enough! She's coming to." the voice behind the blinding light said to me. I saw to figures slink away from me. My arms were pinned behind me cuffed to the legs of the office chair I was in. I heard rumbling and clutter muffled in the room next to me. I think my security guard just came to as well. I feel sorry for them when he is fully back. "State you name, please."<br /><br />My head was getting clearer but not 100 percent. "Aman......aman....no Stephanie......Stephanie Pem......broke."<br /><br />"Your name is Stephanie Pembroke. Is that correct?" I nodded; it was easier than speaking.<br /><br />"Ms. Pembroke, why were you in a private facility of the Longbow organization during the kidnapping of one of our employees. You weren't on the registry of guests for the facility and it seems someone broke into the emergency exit nearest the laboratory."<br /><br />"I...uh...I."<br /><br />"Answer me Ms. Pembroke. You wouldn't like my methods. They are a little different than those used in the states."<br /><br />"I'm sorry. What? Who are you might I ask?" I said in a moment of clarity, my head now coming back after the threat.<br /><br />"I am Warden Nelson, head of this facility. I oversee security for all the science operations at the Rogue Island base and it seems you breached that security and I'm not too pleased right now. You see, I take my job rather seriouslyl: I come to work, do my job well (I think), say my prayers everynight. And do you know why? I care. Yes, I do, I really care. And you know what else? I have ambitions of being promoted to Ballista someday, hopefully soon. If your little break in does anything to my chances, I may just have to take things into my own hands."<br /><br />"Aren't you supposed to be one of the good guys?"<br /><br />"Well I didn't break into a secure, private facility like somebody in this room so I wouldn't go tossing around words like 'good guy', because I kind of wonder myself about you."<br /><br />"Sir, I don't think you understand who you are dealing with." I said in a very unusually threatening tone. One of privelege, one I don't often or like using.<br /><br />"Nor I you, Ms. Pembroke."<br /><br />"You do know Dr. St. John-Smythe then, no?"<br /><br />"The name does sound familiar, yes."<br /><br />"He's in Paragon City Hall. Tell him you've found me and I'm ok." I said as he looked over my right shoulder to the person behind me. He nodded to them and they left the holding cell we were in, obviously to make a call. After a few minutes Nelson was called to speak with someone. The waiting was terrible. What was my next move. (Don't use your powers, Amanda.)<br /><br />He came back in what appeared to be a mixture of annoyed, angry and slightly embarrassed. He looked at me then to the ceiling, his motions were hyperkinetic.....nervous. He had something to prove. "Well, it does seem that you know some fairly connected people. Dr. Smythe does have connections to Longbow, mostly Freedom Corps but I'll give you that he wasn't too pleased to know I had you in my custody. But he has no jurisdiction here anyway and ma'am I have to be honest with you." he paused for what I would assume was some kind of affect. "I don't trust you. Something is wrong here and I plan on getting to the heart of it. Oh, your little friend put up an argument but I hung up on him. This is my base and you are my prisoner and he can make all the phone calls to all the science geeks he wants but unless I get word from someone a little farther up the food chain than a pencil pusher in Atlas Park, I think I'll keep you around a while and see if we can't shake some information out of you."<br /><br />"Well you better shake pretty hard if you plan on getting anything out of her." said a voice just outside the door. A familiar voice, one I'd heard many times before. Around the corner stepped Ms. Liberty with a handful of Longbow Officers in tow. She didn't look too pleased with the Warden, but it sure put a smile on my face when I saw her. The Warden and his men all came to attention. "I hope you find me high enough on the food chain Warden Nelson."<br /><br />"Yes, Ms. Liberty."<br /><br />"Can you tell me Warden why a hero from Paragon City is sitting handcuffed in my facility?"<br /><br />He quickly motioned and one of his men quickly unshackled me. "Hero? Her? She didn't identify herself as a hero....And...And if I may ma'am add that it is proper protocol for any meta visiting the Rogue Islands to register with Longbow for their own safetly. It is very clear in the statutes....."<br /><br />"I'm very aware of the rules ,Nelson, after all I wrote most of them. This gentlemen is Mental Maden, a personal friend and ally of mine for quite some time." she stared at me confused "I will assume these bruises on her face are from her altercation with the kidnappers and not my men. Am I correct?"<br /><br />The soldiers stared at each other a bit confused. As my head was clearing I realized that I had been here longer than I had thought and began to piece together Warden Nelson and some of his interrogation techniques. I interrupted and lied "Yes, Ms. Liberty it was from the scuffle" Why prolong the process I just wanted to leave.<br /><br />"Good, good, besides you won't crack that egg" she said motioning toward me "That brain is like a steel trap. Gentlemen how many times have I told you never to try and interrogate a psi based hero. It never works." I noticed Nelson finally realizing why he couldn't get any information from me. (Thank you Mother Mental)<br /><br />"Now get out all of you. Leave us alone."<br /><br />They quickly left like "good" little soldiers. As the door shut we began to talk. Luckily she had known much of the story; since she was the first friendly face I saw after I found myself in that bunker. I filled in the gaps and what lead me to the Rogue Islands in the first place. How I figured Dr. dier Schepper was involved or knew something and how we were ambushed just as he was about to tell me something. She listened patiently as she always does and thought for a few moments.<br /><br />"I really don't think the doctor had anything to do with this Mental. He is a good source for information but I think it was a case of an old man with a failing memory thinking he saw someone he knew. I have worked with him for a long time and he's an honorable man....Misunderstood...but a good man. Let me get some of our best men to take you and your driver to your car and see that you get back home. Johnathan is worried sick about you and wondered where you'd been for the last few days." (Last few days? They had really tried working me over)<br /><br />Her men eventually came and released Mr. Wolfe (who didn't look all too happy) and dropped us off at the parking lot where we had left the limosine . His boat would be brought back and safely docked at my request. I was told the pilot was called and the jet was waiting on me. I'd be home soon enough. Mr. Wolfe opened my door and I looked up at his beaten, tired face. "I'm sorry you have been through all this."<br /><br />He laughed, "It was nothing Ms. Pembroke. Those Longbow's are like little lap dogs. All bark, no bite." He shut the door behind me and left me in unexpected darkness. When he made his way around the car to the driver's seat I informed him that apparently the dome light was out in the back and he said he'd fix it after he dropped me off. "I'll give you a little privacy let you shut your eyes a bit" as he raised the partition to the back. It was amazing how dark the back of a limo could be. I closed my eyes hoping to get a little rest before I hopped on the jet. I was exhausted yet I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. After a few moments of unsuccessful napping I opened my eyes and saw the darkness fade away like a mist. The dome light was fine after all.<br /><br />Sitting across from me was a dark stranger in a duster hat, black leather jacket and pants with a mask covering his mouth. Metallic skulls adorned his shoulders and belt. His gaze was penetrating as he held a finger to his masked lips. I heard a dull thud.<br /><br />"I have been sent by my associate, Codename-Pox. She wishes to have a word with you regarding the scientist. You have my word of honor that you are completely safe." I stared toward the compartment behind him. "Your driver will be safe as well. Unfortunately we had to drug him but he will recover in no time. He seems like the break bones ask questions later type and we really do not wish there to be anymore violence in this matter. Am I correct?"<br /><br />I nodded but I'm not sure if he was referring to Mr. Wolfe breaking bones or not wanting violence. It didn't really matter because they were both the same answer. I thought maybe it was time to use my powers but I didn't know how many more could be out there. No, better I stay safe, it could be another ambush.<br /><br />"Will you go with me then, miss?" he paused awaiting my answer. "I assure you your safety."<br /><br />"Sure."<br /><br />"Close your eyes. Look not upon the forces that deliver us from here. For if you do it will surely scar your soul."<br /><br />And with that incantation everything went black and we both disappeared.Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-1167179231561935042006-12-26T16:16:00.000-06:002006-12-27T14:38:01.306-06:00Part 21: Sisters of Green, Red and Yellow<span style="font-size:85%;">The jet had just touched tarmac and as its body jostled my insides felt uneasy. Festus has brought me my favorite Italian messenger Bag. In it was my passport. My name would be Stephanie Pembroke. I first refused and asked for my real passport, but he assured me that this was how I must travel to the Rogue Islands. My father, uncle, and grandfather all traveled there under assumed names. There were a lot of people on those Islands that would love nothing more than kidnapping a billionaire industrialist. Also in the bag were several $10,000 rolls; it seems that American currency greases the wheels rather well in the Islands. He had already called ahead and arranged the families regular driver/security in Cap au Diable. He was a personal friend of Festus' and someone I could trust. He implored I listened to the drivers instructions and paid whoever needed paid the rest I leave for him. I asked Festus why he arranged so much for me since he didn't even know why I was going. He stated it didn't matter but if I wanted to be safe and return to Paragon City that I needed to take these precautions. Festus isn't just the family butler, he's also a "specialist": versed in organization, planning and security. He arranges all official travel, security details, pretty much anything the family doesn't want to do. Since its just me now he attends the monthly board meetings and reports back to me so I only have to go to the big yearly meeting. I hate those meetings. So did Daddy.<br /><br />I wasn't surprised when the in-flight phone rang and it was Smitty. Festus called as soon as the jet left Paragon City airspace. I had asked (well told) him not to call Smitty and him letting me get on the plane first showed his loyalty to me (letting me get on) and to my father (calling the man who took his place). And I didn't mind, in fact I laughed when Smitty said hello, even if he sounded a bit displeased. I tried apologizing for the expense of the trip and he told me it was my money and I can do whatever I like with it. Except get myself killed.<br /><br />After a few minutes of how my father entrusted him with my health and how next to Tess he loved me more than any other person on Earth, he told me," No matter what you do, do not use your powers. You are traveling as a civilian who works for a construction conglomerate. If they know you are a hero from Paragon they will jail you or kill you. The Arachnos usually have Fortunatas in most groups you encounter. They are powerful psychics, use your concentration exercises to block out your powers and your intentions on the islands. Can you do that?"<br /><br />"Yes, of course."<br /><br />"Good just come back in one piece." and he hung up.<br /><br />I waited in the G-4 for my driver Mr. Wolfe. He was a large man with a scarred face and a noticeable limp. He's been through it all but it was obvious that he was more than competent.<br /><br />"Ms. Cambridge, its a pleasure. From this point on I will refer to you as your alias for this trip. Miss. Pembroke correct?" I nodded "Now the Arachnos Visitors Liaison is outside, Arbiter Freeman, I will hand him $20,000 and he won't even look at you funny. But if asked by anyone you represent a northeastern construction group looking into steel from the islands. Got it?" I nodded again. "Let's go." he winked and he grabbed my arm with his beefy hand. I would be safe with him, I could tell.<br /><br />We got past the Visitors Liaison easily, though I did notice the Fortunata playing around in my brain. She was no match for Mother Mental's techniques. Her hard training has always paid me well. When we got to the limo he scanned for bugs and once clear he asked me what I needed in the Islands and motioned to a pad of paper to write just to be safe. I had indicated that I wanted to find Dr. dier Schepper that he worked out of a secret Longbow lab and that I thought it was in the Nerva Archipelago. He made a few stops at some local taverns each time carrying one of the $10,000 rolls. After a few hours of traveling around to a few of the other islands by ferry we were on our way to the location.<br /><br />"This is a hard man to find, ma'am. But with the right price you can buy anything here." he laughed. "We'll be in Nerva in twenty minutes the location in 35. Do I need to go in armed or anything?"<br /><br />"No, Mr. Wolf that won't be necessary, he's just an old man. The meeting is informative not confrontational anyway. You should be able to stay in the car and relax. You've worked hard today." I smiled.<br /><br />Once in Nerva we parked the limo and boarded an old house boat and sailed for about 5 minutes to a remote island with a single wooden shack and two trees. A lab. Here?<br /><br />I left him on the boat and approached the shack a little nervous. What exactly was I going to do when I found the old man. Is he guarded. Will he even talk to me? Will they shoot me?<br /><br />The door was padlocked. Great! Now what?<br /><br />"Scuse me ma'am." the large man had sidled up to me completely undetected. In his large hands were a pair of bolt cutters and before I could say thank you he'd ripped the lock from the shack's door.<br /><br />"Sure you don't want me to come?"<br /><br />"No Mr. Wolfe. I don't want there to be any misunderstandings. And I afraid your presence may come off.......um....Intimidating."<br /><br />He nodded. "I'll be on the boat. Any trouble just yell." I smiled back and went inside. The shack was merely a facade. Inside the shack was a stairwell down. This must have been an escape exit. The stairs and the very long tunnel that followed aimed right toward the Longbow base on the next island over.<br /><br />After a quarter mile of walking I came to a lab door. A very heavy locked door. What now? I started to rapidly bang on the door. "Anyone there? Anyone? I lost my keycard and I can't access. Anyone?"<br /><br />Within seconds I heard the electric bolt open on the door and was face to face with the very man I came to find. He looked startled and tried to shut the door but I had beaten him and was already half in the door.<br /><br />"Doctor please don't. I just have some questions for your. Please, it won't be a minute."<br /><br />He ran as best his old legs could take him towards a cluttered desk. He grabbed a file, my file, from his desk and shook it at me. "I looked at it again young lady. I looked at it again....."<br /><br />"You said you knew me. Did you do something to me? Just please tell me."<br /><br />"I was mistaken, you merely looked familiar."<br /><br />"But do you know what happened to me?" I said right before a rifle butt hit me in my back knocking me to the ground. He'd tripped an alarm; the crafty old man. The wind was knocked from me as I was greeted by six longbow officers who didn't look too happy I'd made it into their lab.<br /><br />"You are under arrest for trespassing. I recommend you cooperate, Miranda rights don't mean much here. Not much does honestly"<br /><br />"But please I just wanted to ask the doctor a few questions..."<br /><br />"Tell that to Warden Nelson." he said as he grabbed my arm and placed it behind my back. I could hear the handcuffs jingle behind me as the door I'd entered flew from its hinges and hit my captor in the head. Flames filled the doorway as a pulsing jet black orb landed at our feet exploding into a pool of negative energy. Suddenly my head was spinning feeling completely disoriented and nauseated. I turned and saw the other people in the room were also reeling around unaware of what was happening. Then as my head cleared I heard a voice.<br /><br />"Sister, secure them!" I turned towards the door and saw the outline of three women and felt something tighten around my feet. Suddenly I couldn't move my arms. I turned my head and saw the Longbow covered in heavy vines creeping from the floor. I felt the vines tighten on me. I looked forward and saw my captors.<br /><br />Three women stood just inside the doorway each dressed in the same mini dress (each a different color) , fishnets, combat boots, and identical red marking on the right sides of their faces. The one to my left (the one that seemed to be controlling the vines) was reed thin and tall; she wore a yellow dress. The one to my right was covered in flames and smoke was Amazonian in stature (she's obviously broken the door in); she wore red. The one in the middle seemed to be the one giving orders. She was slighter of build but carried herself like a battlefield general. She wore green.<br /><br />"We mean you no harm. But if you try to make a move toward us, we will kill you. This can be over quickly or painfully. Your choice. I'd choose wisely though; we are threat level 50. And if you think of calling in reinforcements, trust me so can we. We just want the scientist and we'll be on our way." she looked over at Red. "Singe get the Doctor."<br /><br />The flames disappeared on Red and she picked up the doctor (still unconscious) ripping the vines from their fresh roots on the floor. She carried him to the door. Green looked at the Dr. dier Schepper and grabbed half a handful of hair and vine. She looked into his still dazed eyes, "Hello, father. Your little girls have come for you. Sister's let's go!" As they walked out the door Green turned to us again and lobbed another ball of negative energy into the room. Everything went black. Just before I blacked out I thought "Mr. Wolfe, what happened to......."</span>Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-1166038464138684762006-12-13T13:16:00.000-06:002006-12-17T19:05:11.336-06:00Part 20: Chasing the scientist"He's in Paragon City?" she asked "Mandy, I don't think you should meet with him. I called around to some people in the Rogue Islands and he has a pretty shaky reputation."<br /><br />"I know, Tess. Noire told me his methods have been questioned for years, but she said he is the single best resource for meta powers in the states maybe the world."<br /><br />"I don't know Mandy, think about it. I'm worried you are in over your head here. I just think your powers are changing and you were exhausted....."<br /><br />"And my apartment just happened to be completely robbed of everything at the same time...yada yada yada. I know something happened and so far the city has no information and could quite honestly care less, the police know nothing and I'm DATING the detective in charge of my case! This may be my last hope and I'm going to find out no matter what the danger...."<br /><br />"Mandy...."<br /><br />"Tess, I'm here gotta go. I'll call you." I hung up the cellphone and parked the car.<br /><br />The facility was hidden among the many buildings in Brickstown inconspicuously placed between a gyro shop and a music Store. The outline of the Zig, Paragon's maximum security prison, sat in the background like a great pyramid. The sign on the door stated it was an import/export broker and inside the door looked like a normal reception area. The office was decorated so noone noticed the almost vault like security door to the rest of the business. It was a covert laboratory for Longbow and their genius scientist was making a housecall.<br /><br />"May I help you?" the completely pleasant receptionist asked me. She looked to be in her mid forties very well dressed and coifed. I handed her my Hero Identification (Mental Maden2 arghhh). I was not in uniform due to the secret nature of the facility. She looked it over then scanned it on what looked like a credit card machine and stared at her computer screen reviewing the details.<br /><br />"Hmmm this is a 40+ securtity level facility but I see here you have a special dispensation for your meeting. Ok, an operative will be with you in a moment. You may have a seat. Would you like a magazine?"<br />"No thank you." I smiled. I had barely sat down when the hiss of the opening security door caught my attention.<br /><br />"You may enter now." a disembodied male voice summoned.<br /><br />After I entered and the door shut a man in Longbow gear appeared to my right. He was a Spec-Op, Longbow's stealthy secret operations division, and he grinned. "Sorry we never know if someone is in the lobby and today we are on high alert so we are in uniform. There's talk of a potential Freakshow Breakout in the Zig so we have to be on the ready."<br />He continued to talk as we walked down the hall, "Now I'm going to take you to Dr. dier Schepper's lab. I don't know what you know about him but he....we.....request your utmost discretion in meeting with him. Not only is he hated by pretty much every bureaucrat involved with the City, Longbow and the Freedom Corps but he has some very dangerous enemies as well. His methods have come under question for 50 some odd years but he's brilliant and he's done more for meta research than anyone. Now, he's known to be working on several things at once and he....well, he's easily distracted. He's a very sweet old man but he is known to be a little aloof. Don't take it personally."<br /><br />I hadn't noticed before but now I had a female spec-op trailing behind me. We took an elevator to a lower floor. (The kind that requires a key not a button to access.) We rode for a few seconds when the door opened to a room that was taken out of any 1950's B Sci-fi movie. It was cluttered with books and devices that looked more like museum pieces than new technology. But if you looked closer you would see mixed in with the relics very high end servers and computer equipment. The doctor sat with his back to us at a desk with no less than three LCD screens and three keyboards. He went from one to the other at a fractic pace and it appeared that he had been at it for a while.<br /><br />"Dr. dier Schepper, your appointment is here."<br /><br />"The power loss case?"<br /><br />"Yes, sir"<br /><br />"I read the files you sent to me." he was talking to me but it took a few seconds for me to realize this.<br /><br />"Oh great you got them good, I wasn't sure if you...." I said startled.<br /><br />His back remained turned. "I'm not sure if you know this young lady but powers change all the time. I've counted 651 cases alone where powers were completely lost. Gone without a trace. But I couldn't tell you how often powers alter as a meta matures. And the nature of your gaining the powers in the first place lends itself to later alteration in my experience. Did you draw this up? You obviously have a knowledge for science."<br /><br />"Yes sir, I have a phD from Brown. Microbiology."<br /><br />"Research or teach?" he asked in his heavy Dutch accent.<br /><br />"A little of both. I've set up a lab at Paragon University and I teach a few classes a semester...little stuff."<br /><br />"What do you research?"<br /><br />"Childhood cancers, glioblastomas mainly"<br /><br />"Cambridge, right. You are published, I've read your work. You use good methodology, your writing is good....concise. some of your conclusions are shit though."<br /><br />"Don't pay attention to him, he's just like that sometimes." the female spec-op whispered.<br /><br />"Anyway your case. I don't think its that significant. I'm not sure I have any answers for you. Your powers changed thats all."<br /><br />"I had a gamma-knifed tumor scar move from one side of my brain to the other, Doctor. What would your conclusion be to that? I asked in a voice louder than I wished I'd used. He quickly spun around in his chair.<br /><br />"I might remind you that I'm doing you a favor. And I don't........"<br /><br />We made eye contact and quickly he looked down at some papers.The blood drained from his face and his expression was that of pure shock and nervous recognition.<br /><br />"It can't be. You? No it's not you." He began scooping up papers and putting them in a cardboard box including my file. He started shutting off computers and monitors. "I am afraid I cannot help you young lady. I am sorry but I think we must end this here."<br /><br />"But wait! You know me?"<br /><br />"No, no the light...I was mistaken. As for your case, I have no answers. I am so sorry. I was mistaken." he said nervously. He turned to the operatives. "Get me a car and call ahead. Have a transport ready for me. I'm going back to the Nerva base."<br /><br />"But sir, you aren't scheduled to go back to the Islands for a few more days."<br /><br />The female spec-op was leading me into the elevator.<br /><br />"Just get me a transport. Now." I heard him shout as the elevator doors shut.<br /><br />The receptionist thanked me as I left still in a daze from what had just happened. Whatever it was that just happened. I took my cellphone from my purse and dialed.<br /><br />"Festus, its me. I need you to get my passport and meet me at the airport. Call ahead and have the G-4 fueled and ready to go........I know I never take the private jet but this is an emergency....no I won't need any clothes; I'm not staying that long.........Where? The Rogue Islands. I need to go to the Rogue Islands. And Festus, do <strong>not</strong> tell Smitty I'm going."Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-1165447652034240992006-12-06T17:23:00.000-06:002006-12-06T17:27:32.046-06:00Part 19: Lessons from the past 2It was a ritual we'd repeated so many times before. She would place her fat hands on either side of my face and look into my eyes or was it my soul. It felt that way. Then she'd ask, "Have you used your powers this week?" I had tried several times but I soon came to realize that I could not lie to her. She always knew; in great detail. No matter what my answer was she neither scolded nor praised me. She just stared into whatever it was she stared at. During the visit I would go over the lessons she gave me and learn new ones. All of them centered around concentration skills. At the end of our time she would give me something she'd baked and kiss my forehead. "Don't use your powers this week." she'd say "Mother Mental loves you."<br /><br />She was very structured in her lessons and I fell into the pattern of it very easily. Children need structure and at that point in my life things were unraveling quite a bit. One day I entered obviously upset. My mothers depression was getting worse and it was beginning to take a toll on me. That day Mother Mental looked a little longer, a little deeper. She didn't ask me her usual question. She just smiled and pointed towards my chair. "Sit lil' maiden, sit. Mother Mental is going to show you something."<br /><br />"Yes ma'am"<br /><br />She sat in her usual plastic covered easy chair just oversized enough to fit her large body quite tightly and smiled even wider.<br /><br />"I don't normally do this but I think you need to see this. You are a good little girl and a great student. Maybe the best I've seen and I work with adults as well as children. It's not easy being special and repressing the urges to perform, but trust me my maiden, you will gain so much more by learning to control these things. We aren't ready for this. Not yet, it's too early" I thought she just meant I was too young to have powers but later I would realize she was talking about mankind taking the next step in evolution. We weren't ready and she was there to teach us to control it. "I want to show you what I can do. Would you like that?"<br /><br />I nodded enthusiastically expecting her to play "read the mind" with me; then something wonderful happened. At first I thought a train was going by the neighborhood as the house trembled ever so gently then stopped. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a teacup still on its saucer floating to my left. One by on every little bobble and knickknack in the clean but cluttered room became airborne and began circling me like the most beautiful mobile. After the small objects made a few passes some larger objects began to dance like the others until everything in the room was orbiting my little body. I could feel my mood become sunny and my face hurt from smiling and I laughed for the first time in a while. I was even more amazed when the room itself began to spin only to be more amazed when I realized it was me that was spinning in an orbit opposite the content of the room. The feeling was so wonderful I couldn't get sick to my stomach, which in hindsight I realize now I probably should have. Then suddenly I stopped spinning and I was facing her again, her fat face with a smile of pride as wide as mine. I watched as everything floating began returning to the exact place they came from. Books were shifting around making sure they were in alphabetical order. Blanket were folding themselves and pillows fluffed up before settling back down. All under her control. When the cup and saucer (the first to move the last to land) settled on the shelf where they were stationed she looked at me.<br /><br />"I don't show that to people very often..."<br /><br />"But, why Mother Mental....."<br /><br />"Shhh child I'm tired and I have something to say." she was spent. I could see it took a lot from her to do this. "I am going to teach you how not to use your powers and you have to trust me that as you get older you will be tempted to use them trust me, girl. I've seen it dozens of times. It never fails, but you must understand that you are here because your momma and your daddy and you yourself asked me for your help. Trust me my little maiden you are better off never using them. Because once you do there is no turning back. Your life will forever be attached to them and that life leads to loneliness, suffering and maybe death. And Mother Mental wants to see you die an old lady with your grandchildren by your side. You are special in so many ways, so smart, so beautiful. You don't need what this old lady has seen. No you don't." And then as if the earth began to turn a little slower and her voice became more clear she said this. "If you do ever decide to use your powers you must learn to control them or they will control you. And you must promise me you will only use them to help people." Her voice became more demanding and her brow furrowed. "Promise me this maiden or our lessons will end today." I nodded. "Promise me!" she yelled her voice shaking me like the house before her earlier display.<br /><br />"Yes ma'am" I said almost in tears.<br /><br />She came over handed me a cookie, kissed my forehead and said, "Don't use your powers this week." And she led me out the door. "Mother Mental loves you."Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-1163022875430147972006-11-08T15:45:00.000-06:002007-09-24T09:26:25.351-06:00Part 18: Best Friend ApprovalThe bell attached to the door of the cafe rang as he exited unaware of the conversation about to take place. His lunch was cut short because of work but that was good: it gave us time to talk. Tess looked at me as soon as the door shut and gave me the look. A look that we have exchanged dozens of times since we were little girls. One that every woman has shared with their best friends: the boyfriend approval look. Head down, eye brows up with a smile followed by giggling. It isn't the same for every woman but when you see two women engaged in the activity you automatically recognize it.<br /><br />"He is great!" she whispered as if he could still hear us.<br /><br />"Really?" it is very important to get this look and this approval.<br /><br />"Oh my, yes, cute too. Nice build as well." she said knowing it pushed my buttons. Tess and I, lifelong friends are the shining example of opposites attracting. I tend to be reserved and stoic at times; some believe me to be cold. I prefer to think of myself as demure and conservative. Tess on the other hand is a force of nature. She is always the life of the party, most popular girl in the room. She makes easy work of getting to know people, especially men. The classic American beauty: blond with a build that stops men in their tracks. She knows this to and can use it like a master. The only thing stopping her from being a famous model or actress is her height. At 5'2" she was approached by people in the glamor industries but never given the opportunities. Not that she ever cared. The only thing surpassing her beauty is her brain. She definitely takes that from her father. Being beautiful and brainy gave Tess the ability to get away with anything growing up. She almost never got caught and when she did she always talked her way out of it. She was prodding me now. Talking about his body meant she was going to ask me about our physical relationship. Not that she was really interested near as much as she wanted to see her reserved friend squirm a little bit.<br /><br />"Tess, don't go where you are going." I smiled<br /><br />"Are you sure you don't want to tell me....."<br /><br />"Tess!" we both laughed and drank our coffee.<br /><br />"You do realize your Grandmother is probably rolling in her grave now." she said. She was always a favorite of my Nonna. I always felt Nonna saw the beautiful blond more to her tastes as a granddaughter.<br /><br />"Actually I think she's rather approve." I said one eyebrow raised. I waited to see if it would register. She was fighting her brain churning madly but could not make the connection. "Francis Albert Donnelly III, ring a bell?"<br /><br />She thought for another few seconds then her jaw dropped and then a devilish grin, "No! As in THE Francis Donnelly?"<br /><br />I nodded and smiled. Francis Donnelly was an infamous Harvard trained prosecutor from the time of Statesman's war on organized crime he had tremendous political power and later became a hardnosed judge. His son, Francis Donnelly Jr. acting on his fathers reputation became an aggressive defense lawyer much to his fathers disapproval. There are classic stories of father and son battling in court over the fate of some of Paragon City's worst criminals. Junior became a very wealthy man with as much political cache as his father. His son , my Frank, was supposed to follow in his fathers footsteps. He went to Harvard undergrad then Harvard Law and quit after one month working in his fathers practice. Defending criminal disgusted Frank he couldn't do it. He immediately went to the Police Academy and signed on with the PPD. His father, while disappointed in his son's decision was impressed with his convictions. Frank was a trust fund baby, taught in the best private schools, set for life, but chose the life of a cop out of conviction for truth and justice. That attracted me the most.<br /><br />"Oh even better! Ok, how is he in....."<br /><br />"Tess, no." we both laughed. Now that I had proper best friend approval I could ask her what I really needed to know.<br /><br />"Do you still know anyone on the Rogue Islands?" the question was odd and Tess looked at me queerly.<br /><br />"I just did an 8 week rotation at the hospital in Cap Au Diabla. I didn't really have much time to socialize. Why?"<br /><br />"Dr. Noire told me there is a man there, a doctor, that works with Longbow. He is apparently an expert in metahuman powers. Some people seem to think he can help me figure out what is happening to me."<br /><br />"Amanda, don't do this. It's silly. Just move on."<br /><br />"I can't Tess. Something happened."<br /><br />"You blacked out for a few days. You are fine now. Your powers are returning..."<br /><br />"Different powers. But my apartment....."<br /><br />"Coincidence...Give it up. I think you just worked yourself into exhaustion and your body and powers just shut down. It wouldn't be the first time. Hell look at you now. You just got back from Bermuda and you already look tired. How much sleep have you gotten?........... I didn't think so.......Mandy give up this fight and just move on."<br /><br />"I can't." I said with tears in my eyes. Seeing me getting upset she gripped my hand and squeezed.<br /><br />"It's ok, hun, what's his name? I'll make a few calls."Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-1161804191310047002006-10-25T13:13:00.000-06:002006-10-25T13:59:51.266-06:00Part 17: Lessons from the past"Well hello there my little maiden. And what is your name?" said the old woman looking down at me. She looked like a cartoon character. A round woman with gray hair in a tight bun. Half moon glasses attached to her neck by a pearl chain. Her home was clean but cluttered with knick knacks from her many years and travels. The shades were drawn tight only allowing small shafts of light to illuminate the residence. If one looked closer they would see the eyes of the many cats roaming in the shadows. I was terrified. My parents said she would be giving me lessons. Lessons that would make the "special powers" go away. They told me time and again I wasn't bad for having them but as a little girl I needed to learn to hide them until I grew up. And most importantly, Nonna could never know. Never.<br /><br />"Mandy" I said looking up with big eyes. She hugged me. She smelled of rose perfume.<br /><br />"Come sit with me little maiden. Let me look into you." She led me to a fat chair with a plastic cover. She sat her large behind in a folding chair in front of me. She adjusted her glasses and then her large backside and placed her fat hands on my face and pawed me for a minute or two. "Oh I see, I see. Yes, very powerful, indeed. From inside, deep inside, your power comes forth. You did not ask for this. I can see that. You are afraid. I understand little maiden. Mother Mental is here for you. Mother Mental will help." I opened my eyes feeling a little woozy and saw her smiling at me.<br /><br />"I have one question to ask you my little maiden. Do you want me to teach you to turn these things off?"<br />I nodded.<br /><br />"Are you sure?"<br /><br />"Yes, ma'am."<br /><br />She looked at my parents and began to speak in soft tones. Funny how adults think that children don't understand what they are saying sometimes. But I was a smart little girl and knew exactly what they were saying. She agreed to do it not because I should be ashamed of my abilities but because they may be too dangerous for a little girl. She could not erase them since they seemed to be anatomic in nature and not magicly placed.. Some day I would have to choose to continue turning them off or let them out. It was going to be hard and at times I wouldn't like her because it would require discipline that most 10 year olds don't have. My parents weren't allowed to sit in the sessions, because she was going to be hard at times and they may not be able to stand it. Every Wednesday after school. 5 o'clock. I could never be late. Each session was over when it was over. No exceptions. If I worked hard it would be over early if I slacked off I could be there all night.<br />She then looked at me and asked, "Maiden, can you do that? Will you work hard for me?"<br /><br />"Yes, ma'am."<br /><br />"Good!" she smiled and hugged me suffocating me with her ample cleavage. "My little maiden. Mother Mental is going to love working with you." She then turned to my parents. "Good seeing you two again. She'll be fine. See you next week."<br /><br />She could be a stern taskmaster one minute but tender at the drop of a hat. I was expected to be on time and prepared for each lesson. Backtalk was prohibited. Home assignments were tough and mandatory. If I did not behave or became bored with the session she would yell, but if I was good she loved on me like her own child. The first year was nothing more than lessons on concentration. No mention of powers, just learning how to concentrate. Flashcards, tests, and homework. I was going to school twice! But after every session she treated me to pumpkin cookies with chocolate chips. They were wonderful.<br /><br />The next few years were going to be hard on my family and Mother Mental was the only steady presence in my life. The death of my father's older brother and his family which lead to Nonna's seclusion from us and complete breakdown in her relationship with my mother. (Two of her three sons now dead) My mothers downward spiral into depression that eventually led to her suicide when I was twelve. My fathers growing absence as he was forced to take over the family empire and him eventually leaving me when I was sixteen with the St. John-Smythes. Mother Mental was always there.<br /><br />The first assignment she gave me was to write her about the prettiest thing in the world (the pink sand and blue-green water on the beaches of Bermuda) to me. It would be an image I would use for my training to help with concentration. I signed it, "Amanda Bryce Cambridge, your little Maden" a silly little ten year old's spelling error she never pointed out.<br /><br />"We're here. Mandy? Are you ok?" Frank said as the cab came to a hault in front of the beach house. The Bermuda air was crisp but still tropical. I had taken Noire's advice.<br /><br />"Yeah, I'm fine. Was just thinking."<br /><br />"What about?"<br /><br />"The beach."Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-1161272428740826772006-10-19T07:48:00.000-06:002006-10-19T11:21:42.006-06:00Part 16.2 Canaries, UFOs and Tumors.We live in a big world made small with connections. With this electronic world the concept of six degrees of separation seems antiquated. Dr. Noire and I made small talk and realised we had many of these connections. We were both a member of the Guardian Channel, a loosely aligned group of heroes that had a Com Unit band that announced serious threats to the city. Since giant robots or monsters don 't pop up all the time the conversation on the channel usually turned to food, especially cookies. She frequently lectures at Brown School of Medicine about Pediatrics and knows my best friend Tess St. John-Smythe. She and Dr. Fransisco have extensively researched children and metahuman powers. Noire a renowned pediatric specialist and Dr. Fransisco author of <em>Patient A: Child with Metapowers, </em>required reading for government workers and scientists working with superheroes. It was a ground breaking book about the physiologic and psychologic effects of powers on children. He had since put out many more: all the way to Patient K. I was the anonymous Patient A.<br /><br />"So you are "A"?" she smiled. I could tell she wanted to ask questions about the book. But she held back.<br /><br />Embarassed I answered, "Yeah, that's me. Been a long time since I thought about that book."<br /><br />"Wow, not me I've read it cover to cover so many times. It helped me decide to be a hero." I looked at her puzzled. "After my accident, the one that gave me powers, I became depressed, confused. I didn't know what to do. Dr. Fransisco and I knew each other from conferences and he gave me that book. Since I'd worked with children he thought the story would help me cope with my ordeal. He said, 'Read about this brave little girl. It will change your life.' and I did and it......you did........"<br /><br />"But I spent my adolescence and teen years suppressing my powers. That is what the book is about. Running away from what had happened." I interjected.<br /><br />"Oh, no,no,no," she interupted "You were so brave. You made a choice and you fought so hard to control your powers. I know how hard that is. It took you so much will power to make that choice. No, Amanda, you were brave.....so strong. You should be proud."<br /><br />A tear welled up in my eye. "It was never my choice. I know the book was anonymous, but now that you know my name I think you will realize who I am and how that decision was made for me by birthright." I watched as the wheels began to turn and I saw the moment she figured out who I was and from what family. It's the same everytime. Confusion, disbelief and sometimes even resentment. As I awaited the questions or comments about my family something strange happened. She smiled and began laughing. She hugged me again. (What was with her and hugging?)<br /><br />"I love irony!" she exploded. "You were even braver than I thought! Coming from that family and having super powers. Lord knows what you went through. And look at you today, one of the cities finest heroes......" And then it hit her and it hit me. Why we were here. There was a slight pause as we both looked down. Her mood changed and her voice went from the bubbly bedside voice (Oh Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so I'm Dr. Noire) to the serious practitioner (I hate to inform you but your child has a terminal disease).<br /><br />"We don't know what it is, Amanda. I've looked at your x-rays and I can't....it can't be explained. It could just be that your powers are mutating. I mean you are now doing things you learned to do late in your career. That could be it, just a steady progression......."<br /><br />"What makes a tumor that size move across my brain without leaving me in a vegatative state or dead?"<br /><br />"I don't know."<br /><br />"What makes a person wake up after three days with no memory?" my tone became tense..<br /><br />"Look, your powers eminate from parts of your brain that deal with spacial relationships. Maybe, your brain moved the tumor. Some type of teleportation......" She was stretching. I could see it. And she knew it. "Maybe this shift in your brain caused you to blackout."<br /><br />"And the break in at my apartment? How do you explain that?"<br /><br />"No one can explain that. No witnesses. No evidence. Amanda, you can't rule out the fact that......." I knew what was coming.<br /><br />"Me? You think I did that? Broke into my own home and....."<br /><br />"No, no, hun I didn't say I thought that. As scientists you know we can't rule that out."<br /><br />I became shaken for the first time since I woke up in that bunker. The emotions finally came pouring in. It was heavy. It was all I could take to hold back the tidal wave of tears that were building. "What happened to me, Noire?"<br /><br />"I guess it's just a UFO." <em>WHAT???</em><br /><em></em><br />"A flying saucer? Aliens? What are you talking about." Hearing my question again she laughed and again she hugged me.<br /><br />"Oh, my, Amanda I'm sorry. It's an expression of mine. When you say UFO people always assume you are talking about little green men in a saucer, but what it really means is something that you see but can't explain. You know <em>unidentified flying object.</em> That's all it means. For years the government used it to term things they couldn't explain. And until the Rikti Invasion we were all left wondering if strange things really happened. Sure there were occurances that couldn't be explained and sure we knew there were heroes out there, but it all seemed to be something off in the distance. In my pursuits in science anytime I can't solve something I call it a UFO. Amanda, all I can tell you is that we don't know what it is. I'm sorry."<br /><br />I stared at the floor: disappointment, sadness and fear swirled in my mind. This wasn't the news I wanted to hear.<br /><br />"Maybe you should take a break. You look worn. Forget about this for a while. I promise I will look into it some more. Look, we don't know what we are dealing with here. This could be nothing but your powers natural progression or it could be a global conspiracy. We just don't know. But what I do know is you can't take much more. Get some rest. Go somewhere; get away from all of this. Just for a little while."<br /><br />"I'll try."Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-1159585986740013532006-09-29T20:17:00.000-06:002006-09-29T21:13:06.816-06:00Part 16.1 Canaries, UFOs and Tumors.<em><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#00cccc;">My tenth birthday was very special. I had spent a year and a half in the hospital and it had been six months since my gamma knife surgery. I had been given remission status and my hair had finally grown back. Pemiscot Hall was a decorated wonderland of streamers and balloons. A string quartet played children's songs and all of my friends were there. I don't recall in all of my days a moment when my family was happier. There were more presents there than anyone deserved and for the first time in two years I allowed myself to act like a child again. It was so beautiful. Nonna insisted I play a song for the group and I gladly performed Haydn's Cello Concerto #1 in C major. While the children didn't seem to impressed and were much more interested in playing with their party favors I noticed the enchantment in the adults faces, especially Nonna's. As the party began to wind down my mother announced that their was one more present to open. Everyone gathered aroung a strange dome shaped object covered with a purple satin cloth. My eyes grew wide as she removed the cloth and I set my eyes on a lovely little bird. Tweet, an American Singing Canary. Almost magically it began to sing. I spent the next week just staring and talking to her. I fed and watered her and cleaned her cage, just like I'd promised mother.</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">Three weeks later after a family brunch my parents ran to my room after hearing my screams. Tweet lay motionless in her cage, the door still closed. I was in the corner holding my head crying. "I didn't mean to do it! Mommy I swear! I didn't touch her but I hurt her. Daddy make her better. I didn't meant to do it!"</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">"What Mandy what are you talking about?"</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">"I did something to her."</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">My mother approached me arms out. And something from inside me, purely primal in fear of punishment, spread out of my body and encased me in a green force field that repelled my mother across the room. My father went across the room and picked her up. </span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">"What just happened Jack?" she asked.</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">"I don't know." he said and I could see the gears turning in his mind "Mandy what did you just do?"</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">"Daddy, I'm scared. I didn't mean to hurt Mommy......Tweet. Mommy I'm sorry" I sobbed.</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">"Honey I need you to calm down, ok?" his voice spoke so calmly. He approached me and the force field disappeared. He grabbed me and picked me up. I hugged and wet his neck with tears. "Squirrel, did you know you could do this?"</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">"No." I told him. I was lying. For days after my gamma surgery I had the feeling I could "do" things. Manipulate space.....move things. I felt it innately. In my brain, where to tumor once was. I started off moving crayons, placing my bubbles around things and bouncing them like rubber balls. It was my secret. I tried sharing it with Tweet but something went wrong. I was a killer now and I was scared. I cried hysterically and Daddy handed me into my mothers arms.</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">"Mommy's going to take care of you, I'm going to see if I can help Tweet." he grabbed the cage.</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">"Jack Tweet's ....."</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">"I know Maggie, I'm taking this to Jonathan. Maybe he can tell what just happened. He's the only one we can trust. He knows about these things." As he left the room he turned to me and looked at me with such a serious face I can still see it today. "Squirrel, you cannot tell anyone about what just happened. Do you understand?" </span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">I nodded.</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">"You can never tell anyone. Nonna. Especially your Nonna. Do you understand. Promise me." his voice got loud for a rare occasion. "Promise me Squirrel!"</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">"Promise Daddy." I buried my face in my mother's neck in shame.</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">He was going to see Dr. Jonathan St. John-Smythe, his best friend and the science representative to the cities hero community.</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></em><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#000000;">I sat in the examination room waiting not really sure what made me think of that event in my past. My eyes began to well with tears when a friendly voice interrupted my thoughts.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">"Amanda?"</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">I looked up and saw a friendly smiling face. I smiled and wiped away a small tear. "Yes, Amanda Cambridge." I held my hand out to shake hers.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">She moved energetically toward me and instead of taking my hand, she hugged me.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">"It's so nice to meet you! I feel like I know you already!" She stepped back and flashed a big grin then jumped in to hug me again. I looked into her eyes and saw something familiar. She was an empath. You can tell by the eyes; they seem to look into you softly and in a reassuring way. She had those eyes. Medistar has those eyes. She asked me to sit down and then we just talked.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">(To be continued)</span>Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-1156969167262348232006-08-30T13:30:00.000-06:002006-08-31T16:07:35.706-06:00Part 15: Massacre at an office parkI stood over her bleeding body. I always worry about her; she is young and frail to begin with. She was unconscious but still breathing. Poison darts peppered her torso like a sick porcupine. I felt the fear well up in me. I had to control it.<br /><br />"Someone get her to the hospital!" I yelled.<br /><br />This wasn't good. Not at all. It was supposed to be a simple "slip in and find the information and take anyone who gives us trouble into custody". The office was supposed to be empty, Frank checked it out. We were ambushed. Vahzilok came from everywhere and we were overwhelmed. Molten Quarrel held them off with walls of fire and trick arrows. Linceti May and I did our best to protect the others but two were down and it didn't look good. I was holding Boomgirl in my arms praying the poison darts wouldn't take her. Vahz darts usually just weaken their targets but are known to kill if the target is small enough and the amount of venom is large enough. And Boomgirl is small enough and I'd never seen this many in one person. She began to convulse.<br /><br />"Somebody, NOW!!!" With that Molten picked her up and began running to the Steel Canyon Hospital. A piece of paper fell from her hand as they left the room. She had been going through a file cabinet when the ambush hit. Coffee stains smeared and hid most of the content but my eyes quickly saw a few words that caught my attention. .................armored car...............hero samples.............discretion is of the utmost importance, the financier will pay well.......................no more further communicate.............................Archon Bishop. The Council were somehow involved in this and I had a name. I began to put things together in my head. How were the council and the vahz involved in this? They have no known alliance. Who is the Archon Bishop?<br /><br />"Miss Mental.....Miss Mental," it was Linceti May. I didn't mean to ignore her but I was lost in my head. "Miss Mental, she's dead." POW my attention snapped back.<br /><br />"Boomy? Oh god....."<br /><br />"No the other one, what was her name?" she asked about another member of our party, one we'd only met recently. We had fought some street hoodlums a few weeks prior and were helped by a woman who could turn herself and other objects to stone. She was a fierce fighter, very strong.<br /><br />I walked into the office where Linceti stood over the body. It was obvious. A broken neck. No doubt her stone armor went down and she was killed. I didn't even really know her and she had died looking into something about me. Guilt washed over me and tears began to freely flow down my face. Her name was Lady Smash. My head began to pound from the vibrating tumor inside. The fear came up and this time it stayed in my head; I couldn't release it. I fell to the ground exhausted and passed out. I woke a few minutes later on a couch in the reception area of the office building with Frank watching over me, Linceti at his side.<br /><br />"Are you ok, hun?" he asked his soft eyes looking on me with concern.<br /><br />"Yeah I'm fine just exhausted, how is Boomgirl?"<br /><br />"She's gonna be fine, the doctors are working on her now" I gave him a look "She's gonna be fine Amanda, I promise." He then gave me a look.<br /><br />"What did your doctor say the other day? Something is wrong and you haven't told me anything. What the hell is going on with you?"<br /><br />"He said he didn't know." I began to cry again. I didn't say much after my appointment with Dr. Francisco because I was frustrated and I knew what he'd say.<br /><br />"You have to stop doing this now and find out what happened to you. Forget this investigation, Mandy. We need to know what's happening to you. Now."<br /><br />"I'm to meet with him and another doctor one that he says may have some answers. A hero. A hero that's also a doctor, Mistress Noire.<br /><br />"When?"<br /><br />"Actually I was supposed to meet with them today......" another look "I know, I know, but we had to move on this today.......Look I called and rescheduled for next week and he totally understood...Frank....Frank."<br /><br />He was pacing with his cellphone apparently on hold. "Dr. Francisco, this if Detective Frank Donnelly of the PPD......Yes sir, that's me. Yes, sir. Its Amanda she's collapsed.....yes sir.......oh she can? Great we'll be there first thing in the morning........Thank you doctor."<br /><br />"You are going to meet with him and this Noire person tomorrow morning."Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-1155598294119450112006-08-14T15:27:00.000-06:002006-08-14T19:21:52.870-06:00Part 14: 1873-1923I don't think I have to explain what cancer, hospitals, surgery, medicine, radiation, hair loss with all the underlying sights, smells, and pains do to an 8 or 9 year old. To say it was hell is obvious. Now I will admit that one's mortality is not as profound to a child as it is to someone who has "tasted life" for a longer period of time. I am now faced with the fact that something has or is happening to me and I am worried....yes even frightened. Much like the fear I had as a little girl being hooked up to an IV of poison I was now afraid, not of dying but of the unknown. I sat in Dr. Fransisco's office, this time almost twenty years older and without the support of my loving parents. I was alone this time. It was just a follow up to make sure nothing was coming back. No big deal really. But I was still scared. My mind looked to moments of strength when I was that little girl and once again I was drawn to a vision of my Nonna.<br /><br />It was the first of many days, weeks and months in a hospital bed. A younger Dr. Fransisco was talking to my parents about glial cells, chemotherapeutics, radiation modalities, remission and other words too big and too scary for a skinny, tearful, little girl.<br /><br />"Get out! Get out you three talking that nonsense in front of her. Do you want to frighten her to death?" she said as she walked in the door to my sterile room. All of her entrances seemed as staged and dramatic as the plays she once dreamed of starring in as a young woman. But unlike those characters this was real. Her family was everything to her and she was the matron: the protector. She was a force of nature a whirlwind of presence. When she entered a room all the lifeforce was sucked into the vortex that was her being.<br /><br />"You three heard me. Do not use words like that in front of my little Squirrel. Squirrel, hun, are you ok?" I nodded; eyes pooling with yet unshed tears. "Out!"<br /><br />They left. As if they had a choice.<br /><br />Nonna came over to my side and wrapped her arms around me and cuddled me in her warmth. She smelled of Ivory soap and lilacs, immediately erasing the assault of hospital smells that I had yet to get used to. She hummed an unknown melody for a while and rocked me in her arms. She was thinking, I could tell, of what to say to the grandchild she loved so much. The humming stopped for a moment and then she spoke in her sweet southern drawl.<br /><br />"Squirrel, I want you to be strong. Do not cry, ok, dear? I know you want to but you have to be strong to beat this thing." she paused and squeezed me a little tighter. "You are a Cambridge by birth. You come from a long line of the strong people. And that strength that backbone is as much your birthright as money or property. Your Pop's (my grandfather's) dad was a special man. Have I told you about your great grandpop Cambridge?" She had, but I shook my head no. I loved when my Nonna told stories.<br /><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Henry Stanton Oakes Cambridge was the first of three children born to Joseph and Ginnie Cambridge in the spring of 1873. He was a large baby that grew into an even larger boy that had more energy than anyone knew how to deal with. He drank in life with abandon and would for most of his life. He was the personification of the American spirit. He was proud, even cocky. He took on every aspect of life like a challenge and always came out on top. He excelled in school in sports and made friends with almost everyone he met. And as he grew up in age and out in waste size his hunger for life grew as well. </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">His younger brother Carl on the other hand was his antithesis. He was scrawny and lazy with a penchant for trouble. He was in jail by the age of 20, cut off from the family fortune at 25 and dead of alcoholism by 30 a beggar in the streets of New York.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">His sister Rebecca was quiet and unassuming. A shy girl who fell in love and married the first boy she dated, the son of a prominent gun manufacturer. They lived a quiet and unassuming life in Pittsburgh, PA. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">At Brown, Henry met the love of his life: Anna Davidson. She was the daughter of oil tycoon Walter Davidson. While courting Anna Walter took to Henry as his own son. So much so he promised him a stake in his corporation when they wed. Henry in true Cambridge fashion refused until he learned the business and he did. Starting in the lowest position in the company he worked his way up honestly. They were wed in 1898 and Henry spent his honeymoon on an Army boat to Miami. The Spanish-American War was about to start and he volunteered to serve; both out of patriotism and desire to meet his idol: Theodore Roosevelt. He served under Roosevelt in the unit known as the Rough Riders, a rag tag collection of Western cowboys and East coast bluebloods. Henry had followed the life of Mr. Roosevelt and longed to be like him. The two did look remarkably similar causing some of his fellow enlistees to call him Jr. Roosevelt of course hated this and gave him the name that stuck with him for life. Henry Steel. This was partly due to the fact the family was in the steel business but also due to the fact he could not be bent or broken no matter what. In one battle he was shot three times and didn't stop fighting until Roosevelt made him. He defied orders and went back into battle to save an injured soldier. He was shot a fourth time. The last wound in the back, instantly crippling him. He was sent home paralyzed. Or so they said. He was walking within three weeks of being home. Doctors never could explain why. Some say it was out of shear stubbornness.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">In 1900 Anna learned she was pregnant. They were thrilled to announce he had an heir. The families were thrilled but the joy was soon met with sorrow. Walter Davidson took ill quickly and died during the pregnancy. He left the company to Anna and Henry, who was now helping his father run Cambridge Steel and Wire. He handled the transition to the oil business with ease. Profits climbed from the first day and never dropped. He was a natural. Life could not be better. In the spring of 1901 Anna went into labor while Henry was on a hunting trip with some of his fellow Rough Riders. A telegraph announcing the labor was sent to his hunting lodge and he quickly left for Paragon City for the wondrous event. His only hope was he wouldn't miss the birth. Upon arriving to the hospital he learned the tragic news that mother and daughter were both lost during the delivery. There were complications and Anna was small and weak. They tried to save them both but could not. Henry's spirit was crushed. He temporarily handed control of the company to his father and disappeared for two years. There were rumors and "sightings" of Henry Steel. Some saw him in Asia in opium dens others under the influence of absinthe in Paris. There were stories of him living with African bushmen and even retreating to the North Pole. The longer his absence the taller the tail. The truth is noone knew where he was and what he did but when he came back he tackled life with a new energy. He spent the next few years combining the Oil and Steel businesses into a fortune very few saw not only in America but the world. He was a solitary man with a solitary purpose. Driven with only business on his mind. His father became ill in 1917 and Henry took control of Cambridge/Davidson Oil and Steel. While he hid it from the world, his heart ached with the pain of loss and the emptiness of solitude. He had spent 15 years denying his heartache while building his empire. It all changed when his father passed away in 1921. At a memorial service he met Amanda Murray a 29 year old friend of his sisters from Pittsburgh that she had just "accidentally" bumped into in Paragon City and "invited" to the memorial. His heart filled with light for the first time in years. They soon began dating and were married within a year. In 1923 at the age of 50 he became a father and produced an heir for the Cambridge legacy. But Henry Steel was far from done with life for he would live to be 103 years old. At age 60 he would start a campaign that would help define the Cambridge family. In 1933 he had concerns and even opposition to the power and influence an individual was gaining in the Paragon City community. That person was known only as <strong>Statesman.</strong></span></span>Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-1151167152837353992006-06-24T09:51:00.000-06:002006-06-24T10:42:21.243-06:00Part 13: Getting some information and a large dry cleaning bill.<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6942/1420/1600/Elfie%20and%20steel%20canyon%20copy.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6942/1420/320/Elfie%20and%20steel%20canyon%20copy.jpg" border="0" /></a> Elfie gave me the location of a low level independant operative in Steel Canyon that brokered a deal to rob the armored car that contained my official blood sample. These samples are used for DNA identification in case of death or Praetorian invasion. They are extremely valuable and their transport is usually on known by a select few. Whoever this Lougge is he must know people in important places.<br /><br />He looked like a vagrant. Hell he may have been one the way he looked. There's no way this guy was connected. Must be the person that hired him. I had to get that information from him. If he would talk............Ambush......Vahzilok operatives.....low level but the numbers did concern me.<br /><br />Vahz are a death cult obscessed with reanimation and mortification. They were followers of the infamous Dr. Vahzilok, a sick individual bent on changing his body with the flesh of the deceased. He was once an respected pathologist but now is a disgusting, throbbing mound of stinking flesh three times the size of an average man and ten times as powerful. His followers tend to be low level hoods with nothing better to do but cause mayhem and get him "Parts" for his experiments. Once you get to a certain sercurity level they tend to be more annoying than dangerous. The re animated Abominations (think Frankenstein but bulimic) use vomit as an attack. It hurts ,yes, but the smell is the worst. Nothing ruins new tights like zombie vomit.<br /><br />The ambush was over as quickly as it started. Luckily I dodged one of said vomit attacks. I can afford the cleaning bill but not the smell.<br /><br />As I felt cornered and outnumbered waves of fear began building up in my mind. The pressure built so strong I though my head were about to explode. Instinctively I released it toward the attackers. It hit them like holy terror. They were stunned where they stood now cowering. One even soiled himself. They had obviously been sent for me or Lougge, probably both, but instantly they ran away completely ignoring us. Gone. I stood mouth agape. Lougge stared in disbelief too.<br /><br />It didn't take long to get the number from Lougge. I let him go; he didn't know anything else. That is the way these things work. He ran away almost as quickly as the Vahz. What he saw scared him......heck, it scared me too.<br /><br />I stored the number in my comm unit. Frank could find the address for me later . I looked back down to send a message to thank Elf when I saw it on my boot. Ugh. Zombie vomit. Then the smell hit me. Damnit. Gotta find a hose.Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-1148339773327896862006-05-22T16:17:00.000-06:002006-07-31T09:38:36.776-06:00Part 12: Cellos and argumentsMy comm unit was ringing and I grabbed it hoping it was the information I had requested. It was early, 5:30, but I didn't mind being disturbed. I sat upright in bed and grabbed the unit. YES. It was an old level 50 teammate Canadian Elf, now retired (well she likes to call it retirement) and working reception in a well connected office. She didn't need the work but she liked being around people and really liked dressing up in business suits.<br /><br />"Mental, meet me in Peregrine Island in fifteen minutes. You are flying again right?"<br /><br />"Uh, yeah, I'll be there."<br /><br />I scrambled out of bed and went to put on some clothes. Between the call and banging around looking for something decent to wear I forgot the person rustling now on the other side of the bed. His face looked up confused and sheet marked.<br /><br />"Mandy, what is it?"<br /><br />"Nothing Frank, just stay here, no need to wake. I'll be right back."<br /><br />"K" and he immediately started snoring. I stared for a moment and smiled. I slid the balcony door open, shut it behind me and jumped off the building.<br /><br />"Oh, shoot!." I exclaimed and dialed up Elfie. "I have a therapy session and if I miss another Dr. Smythe will lecture me and I'm not in the mood for one of those sessions."<br /><br />"No problem Mental, I'll meet you on my lunch break."<br /><br />I changed my flight direction towards Dr. Baldy McSweatsalot. Ugh, not again.<br /><br />The session started as usual. Him prying into my thoughts and feelings of family members.<br /><br />"Last time we were interrupted. Tell me about your Grandmother."<br /><br />"Well, she could be the most beautiful, charming person one minute and the next a horrid, horrid monster."<br /><br />"Go on. And tell me how she made you feel." he said sweating. I preceded to tell him about my eighth birthday party.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The gift was taller than I was and I stared at it all day in its wrappings with wonder. My mother reacted quickly when I looked at it with confusion in my young eyes. She was always protective of me.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Its a musical instrument, a cello, from your Nonna. Now if you don't like it I'm sure she..." she was interrupted as she shot daggers toward my grandmother</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Nonsense, Maggie, she will love it. All Cambridges play instruments and this one is so beautiful. Amanda don't you just love..."</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"No. No, Penelope you will not do this to her. Look at her! She doesn't even know what it is for godsake!." she looked away from me and tried to keep the next bit out of my earshot. It didn't work; my mother was a passionate woman. "We have been through this, Penny, we will raise this child as we see fit. I already gave in to the private school thing."</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"And look how good she is doing. She's practically at middle school level and she's not in third grade." she paused and collected herself. One of her best methods of disarming people. "Look, I know its hard where you come from, but our family has a long and storied history and it is very important that future generations are given the proper cultural tools to continue those traditions."</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Do. Not. Talk down to me. Understand me. I am a part of this family. My husband is the ONLY thing holding it together right now. Everything this family has been through and all you can think of are stupid superficial traditions. She is a little girl. A beautiful, bright, fun-loving little girl who does not need this pressure.<br />Especially from you......"</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"You two stop this now." came the quiet, confident voice of Daddy. He spoke softly and infrequently, chosing to listen first, and when he spoke all listened. The room fell silent. "I will not allow this on my babies birthday. Go into the kitchen if you want to have this conversation, but do not show yourselves on her day...."</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Nonna," my voice trembled with tears. "I love it; it's pretty." Nonna bolted across the room and hugged me as she looked at my mother with a look of pure satisfaction and contempt. I didn't notice it then as a child, but as an adult I now recognize it was the competitive look of a mother-in-law letting the daughter-in-law know who's really in charge.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I stayed and played with my new toys but was most excited about my cello lessons that Nonna had already scheduled for me. I loved to please my Nonna. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I heard the fight as it continued in the kitchen. I don't remember it verbatim but several references to proper breeding and worthiness;pretention and pompeity. But I do remember one line that always stuck in my brain.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"I do not want her to grow up to be someone like you." </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Sometimes Nonna's words could cut like razors. My mother stayed in her room for a week. My father tried to console her but she was angry with him for putting up with her. I heard their fights that week too. Not angry at each other but unhappy with the others relationship with my grandmother and how if effects them. They had never fought before because they were so in love. This is the only time I ever heard them raise their voices to each other. I just stayed in my room and played with my new favorite toy. I was actually a natural at the cello. My instructor was pleased. I could be the next great prodigy. I had my first recital in October of that year, one day before I had my first seizure. One day before my life changed forever. Cancer.<br /></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span>Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-1146430950576442792006-04-30T10:29:00.000-06:002006-07-31T09:40:38.333-06:00Part 11:1823-1873It was late September, my search for an opening on the Vahz angle of my case was leading nowhere and I was in the middle of another grueling hour with Dr. W J. Haverschmidt. I'm sure he's a competant psychologist or more likely well connected, but the only reason I'm sitting in the chair is because Smithie asked me. I stared at the ceiling because the sweat on the fat analyst's balding head was too distracting.<br /><br />"Ms. Cambridge... Ms. Cambridge," he interupted my daydream, "I need you to pay more attention. We can't get to the problems without you paying attention to your thoughts and feelings."<br /><br />I bit my lip. "Sorry, Doctor, what were you asking."<br /><br />"I was asking why you don't mention your paternal grandmother."<br /><br />"I don't know. Why do you ask?"<br /><br />"Well she was you last living relative." he looked down at his folder on me. "She died just a little over three years ago, yet you haven't mentioned her. May I ask why?"<br /><br />"I don't know, I...." my thoughts drifted again this time to my childhood.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">My first solid memory (smells, sounds, feelings) of my grandmother was the summer of my sixth birthday. We were staying in Bermuda at an old family friends oceanside manor. I remember sitting on her lap, sun on my face, enjoying what could only be paradise. The water was a combination of green and blue that still to this day leaves me breathless. Add to that the sands of the beaches are a light pink, the one color to perfectly contrast the gem like color of the water that crashes upon them. The weather: perfect 72 with flirty, salty breezes. Truely dreamlike. Heaven on earth. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">We had just finished a Sunday brunch of eggs, fruit and Bermuda Fish Stew (a personal favorite). She asked me to come out onto the back deck to sip lemonade and talk about something very important.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Do you know about your family, squirrel?"</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Mommy, Daddy and you, Nonna?"</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"No little one, the story of your family?"</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"No, Nonna."</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"You remember your Pop Cambridge?" she asked, her husband of 38 years, my grandfather: billionaire heir and World War II hero. He had died of a stroke in 1983, just weeks before my 4th birthday.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I smiled, "Yes, I love Pop."</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Good, good, so did I very much. Well let me tell you the story of his.....your family." Her grip on me tightened and she kissed me lightly on the top of my head. She was a beautiful woman even at 59 years she still looked like the pin-up girl of her youth. Her hair was always blond and coifed perfectly. She was always in a dress with heals. Even in the tropical heat she looked, well, perfect. She had a code about appearances that she instilled in me over the years. <em>Always look perfect and act perfect. Always remember you are a lady and you are a Cambridge. (I never corrected her grammar) </em></span><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Well, Squirrel, we are going to go back to 1823 right around the same time our Paragon City was founded. Do you know how far back that is?" I nodded enthusiastically, not so much that I understood but more that I loved when my Nonna told stories. She had been an actress and a pin-up girl in her youth when she met my grandfather at a victory parade in New York in 1945. They were married within 2 months of meeting each other. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Her voice was seductive, the sultriness of the Georgia heat of her childhood. When she entered a room or when she spoke people took notice. It was a gift as wonderous and powerful as any hero I've met. She was a force. She knew it. I couldn't be any more different than her and I loved her and hated her for it. But when she told a story, oh the world stopped and all that was present was her voice and the pictures she painted with them.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">My great-great-great grandfather was born in 1823 in what is now called Galaxy City to Joseph and Mary Cambridge. They named their only son, Johnathan Oakes Cambridge. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Joseph was a hard working lawyer, a brilliant legal mind with too much integrity to make money with it. What little money he did bring home was usually given away after the essentials were paid for. Mary and Joseph were devout Lutherans who felt a strong pull toward philathropy. They lived well and never went without but what little was left was always given away to those less fortunate. This would shape the future of the Cambridges for generation but inevitably lead to the ruin of this family. In 1839 when Johnathan was 15 years old Joseph committed suicide after a bad business deal left the family broke. Johnathan was left to care for himself and his mother. He quit school and went to work for Pemiscot Textiles.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The owner was H. S. Pemiscot a brilliant businessman that was at once ruthless yet kind. He took to Johnathan and his situation but never gave him quarter. He liked Johnathan but showed no favoritism. He did though take him under his wing and serve as a father figure. After five years Johnathan began to notice H.S.'s 15 year old daughter Genivieve. They began friendly conversations when he'd see her and formed a strong friendship, but Johnathan was wise enough to not make romantic advances at his bosses daughter. Finally when he was 22 and had been promoted to foreman of one of the textile mills he spoke to Mr. Pemiscot of his intentions. Pemiscot told him he could court his daughter on one condition. He had to work hard for one year without contact or speaking with her. He could only write her letters. If after that year he still felt the same way he could court his daughter.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">He wrote her everyday and she to him. Pemiscot doubled his shifts and lowered his wages. He did everything in his power to test the young man. Johnathan never waivered, he worked, went home, read his correspondence and wrote to her about his days at the mill and his dreams for the future. As the eleventh month approached his mother passed away. At her funeral Pemiscot told Cambridge he understood if he didn't want to continue that if he needed his daughters comfort he would ablige. Johnathan said that he made a commitment and intended to honor it. They were married a year later.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">As a gift for the wedding Pemiscot made Johnathan a proposal. Since he had no son and Johnathan and Jenny would inherit the family fortune he told him to pick a business he wanted to start and that he would provide the start up cash. He remembered an article he had read when he was fourteen about an invention called the telegraph and had always been fascinated by the connections it would create. He was fascinated by the expansion of the young country and the role that invention had played and had an ispiration. In 1847 the deed to a wire plant was signed over to Johnathan and he soon became the top seller of wire to the telegraph companies across the country. The company did well beyond expectations and H.S. was proud. Thus a tradition in the Cambridge family. A child was given the means to do whatever they wanted. It would prove to make the family fortune grow over the years. Some failed but the family business as a whole always increased in size. Hard work and smart decisions were family traits as apparent as Johnathan's sandy blond hair and blue eyes and would be for generations to come.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Another family tradition was formed in the years of Johnathan and his bride. Jenny was an avid reader and loved to write. She started a journal chronicaling the life and times of the family. She wrote daily passages about the comings and goings even at times focusing on the minutae of recipes or guest lists. This was an honored tradition of the wife of the eldest son that carried on to my own Nonna, who loved it as much as any other before her.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">They had four happy children Joseph(1849), Mary(1851), June and Elizabeth(twins 1853). Joseph was raised with all the wisdom and ambition of his father. Charity which meant so much to Johnathan was stressed to the children and each found their pet causes. Joseph went to Brown (a new tradition that would be followed for years to come) and excelled in his business studies. When he graduated he made a proposal to his grandfather Pemiscot now an old man. The railroads were connecting the young country so he saw prospects in steel. He soon owned 5 of the highest producing steel mills in the country. The families fortunes grew even more. H.S. passed due to old age and Johnathan took the reins of the textile business and the wire business where profits grew exponentially. The girls all married into fine Rhode Island families and all were happy. Joseph married his sweetheart from Brown, Genivieve Malone. Their first son Henry Stanton Oakes Cambridge (1873) would blaze the family into the new century with guts and voracity and turn the family fortune into something of legend.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Miss Cambridge.......Miss Cambridge."</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I shook my head; lost for a second.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Our time is up." his sweaty bald face smiled. I thanked him and left the office.</span>Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15360469.post-1140649085222604382006-02-22T16:35:00.000-06:002006-02-22T19:13:51.740-06:00A message to a friend<span style="font-size:130%;">We all need to escape. Whether its a hard days work. Household chores. Staying up with a crying child. A fight with family. A bad breakup. We all look for a way to escape the things in life that make it tedious or tiring. But no matter how good that escape is, life has a way to bring us back to reality. We are not in fact superheroes.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">This is not a post about a fictional story about fictional people in a fictional world. This is a post about a real-life friend that I made in that fictional world. I heard my good friend has suffered a terrible loss and my heart goes out to her family.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">And mostly to you my friend, I want you to know how much you are loved by your friends and how much we hurt for you. Our thoughts are with you during this trying time. We wish you a quick recovery for your body and hope time will ease the pain in your heart. We are here for you. If you have a need just ask. Until then, please get well, we hope to see you soon.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">MM (and all your friends at CoH/V)</span><span style="font-size:130%;"></span>Mental Madenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08245536234087386038noreply@blogger.com2