"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.
"Mandy" I said looking up with big eyes. She hugged me. She smelled of rose perfume.
"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.
"I have one question to ask you my little maiden. Do you want me to teach you to turn these things off?"
I nodded.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, ma'am."
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.
She then looked at me and asked, "Maiden, can you do that? Will you work hard for me?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"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."
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.
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.
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.
"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.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Was just thinking."
"What about?"
"The beach."
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Part 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 Patient A: Child with Metapowers, 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.
"So you are "A"?" she smiled. I could tell she wanted to ask questions about the book. But she held back.
Embarassed I answered, "Yeah, that's me. Been a long time since I thought about that book."
"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........"
"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.
"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."
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?)
"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).
"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......."
"What makes a tumor that size move across my brain without leaving me in a vegatative state or dead?"
"I don't know."
"What makes a person wake up after three days with no memory?" my tone became tense..
"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."
"And the break in at my apartment? How do you explain that?"
"No one can explain that. No witnesses. No evidence. Amanda, you can't rule out the fact that......." I knew what was coming.
"Me? You think I did that? Broke into my own home and....."
"No, no, hun I didn't say I thought that. As scientists you know we can't rule that out."
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?"
"I guess it's just a UFO." WHAT???
"A flying saucer? Aliens? What are you talking about." Hearing my question again she laughed and again she hugged me.
"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 unidentified flying object. 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."
I stared at the floor: disappointment, sadness and fear swirled in my mind. This wasn't the news I wanted to hear.
"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."
"I'll try."
"So you are "A"?" she smiled. I could tell she wanted to ask questions about the book. But she held back.
Embarassed I answered, "Yeah, that's me. Been a long time since I thought about that book."
"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........"
"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.
"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."
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?)
"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).
"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......."
"What makes a tumor that size move across my brain without leaving me in a vegatative state or dead?"
"I don't know."
"What makes a person wake up after three days with no memory?" my tone became tense..
"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."
"And the break in at my apartment? How do you explain that?"
"No one can explain that. No witnesses. No evidence. Amanda, you can't rule out the fact that......." I knew what was coming.
"Me? You think I did that? Broke into my own home and....."
"No, no, hun I didn't say I thought that. As scientists you know we can't rule that out."
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?"
"I guess it's just a UFO." WHAT???
"A flying saucer? Aliens? What are you talking about." Hearing my question again she laughed and again she hugged me.
"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 unidentified flying object. 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."
I stared at the floor: disappointment, sadness and fear swirled in my mind. This wasn't the news I wanted to hear.
"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."
"I'll try."
Friday, September 29, 2006
Part 16.1 Canaries, UFOs and Tumors.
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.
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!"
"What Mandy what are you talking about?"
"I did something to her."
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.
"What just happened Jack?" she asked.
"I don't know." he said and I could see the gears turning in his mind "Mandy what did you just do?"
"Daddy, I'm scared. I didn't mean to hurt Mommy......Tweet. Mommy I'm sorry" I sobbed.
"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?"
"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.
"Mommy's going to take care of you, I'm going to see if I can help Tweet." he grabbed the cage.
"Jack Tweet's ....."
"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?"
I nodded.
"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!"
"Promise Daddy." I buried my face in my mother's neck in shame.
He was going to see Dr. Jonathan St. John-Smythe, his best friend and the science representative to the cities hero community.
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.
"Amanda?"
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.
She moved energetically toward me and instead of taking my hand, she hugged me.
"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.
(To be continued)
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!"
"What Mandy what are you talking about?"
"I did something to her."
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.
"What just happened Jack?" she asked.
"I don't know." he said and I could see the gears turning in his mind "Mandy what did you just do?"
"Daddy, I'm scared. I didn't mean to hurt Mommy......Tweet. Mommy I'm sorry" I sobbed.
"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?"
"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.
"Mommy's going to take care of you, I'm going to see if I can help Tweet." he grabbed the cage.
"Jack Tweet's ....."
"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?"
I nodded.
"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!"
"Promise Daddy." I buried my face in my mother's neck in shame.
He was going to see Dr. Jonathan St. John-Smythe, his best friend and the science representative to the cities hero community.
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.
"Amanda?"
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.
She moved energetically toward me and instead of taking my hand, she hugged me.
"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.
(To be continued)
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Part 15: Massacre at an office park
I 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.
"Someone get her to the hospital!" I yelled.
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.
"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?
"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.
"Boomy? Oh god....."
"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.
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.
"Are you ok, hun?" he asked his soft eyes looking on me with concern.
"Yeah I'm fine just exhausted, how is Boomgirl?"
"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.
"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?"
"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.
"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."
"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.
"When?"
"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."
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."
"You are going to meet with him and this Noire person tomorrow morning."
"Someone get her to the hospital!" I yelled.
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.
"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?
"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.
"Boomy? Oh god....."
"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.
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.
"Are you ok, hun?" he asked his soft eyes looking on me with concern.
"Yeah I'm fine just exhausted, how is Boomgirl?"
"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.
"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?"
"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.
"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."
"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.
"When?"
"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."
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."
"You are going to meet with him and this Noire person tomorrow morning."
Monday, August 14, 2006
Part 14: 1873-1923
I 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.
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.
"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.
"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!"
They left. As if they had a choice.
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.
"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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 Statesman.
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.
"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.
"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!"
They left. As if they had a choice.
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.
"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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 Statesman.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Part 13: Getting some information and a large dry cleaning bill.
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.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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Part 12: Cellos and arguments
My 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.
"Mental, meet me in Peregrine Island in fifteen minutes. You are flying again right?"
"Uh, yeah, I'll be there."
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.
"Mandy, what is it?"
"Nothing Frank, just stay here, no need to wake. I'll be right back."
"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.
"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."
"No problem Mental, I'll meet you on my lunch break."
I changed my flight direction towards Dr. Baldy McSweatsalot. Ugh, not again.
The session started as usual. Him prying into my thoughts and feelings of family members.
"Last time we were interrupted. Tell me about your Grandmother."
"Well, she could be the most beautiful, charming person one minute and the next a horrid, horrid monster."
"Go on. And tell me how she made you feel." he said sweating. I preceded to tell him about my eighth birthday party.
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.
"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
"Nonsense, Maggie, she will love it. All Cambridges play instruments and this one is so beautiful. Amanda don't you just love..."
"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."
"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."
"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.
Especially from you......"
"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...."
"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.
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.
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.
"I do not want her to grow up to be someone like you."
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.
"Mental, meet me in Peregrine Island in fifteen minutes. You are flying again right?"
"Uh, yeah, I'll be there."
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.
"Mandy, what is it?"
"Nothing Frank, just stay here, no need to wake. I'll be right back."
"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.
"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."
"No problem Mental, I'll meet you on my lunch break."
I changed my flight direction towards Dr. Baldy McSweatsalot. Ugh, not again.
The session started as usual. Him prying into my thoughts and feelings of family members.
"Last time we were interrupted. Tell me about your Grandmother."
"Well, she could be the most beautiful, charming person one minute and the next a horrid, horrid monster."
"Go on. And tell me how she made you feel." he said sweating. I preceded to tell him about my eighth birthday party.
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.
"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
"Nonsense, Maggie, she will love it. All Cambridges play instruments and this one is so beautiful. Amanda don't you just love..."
"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."
"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."
"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.
Especially from you......"
"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...."
"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.
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.
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.
"I do not want her to grow up to be someone like you."
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.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Part 11:1823-1873
It 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.
"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."
I bit my lip. "Sorry, Doctor, what were you asking."
"I was asking why you don't mention your paternal grandmother."
"I don't know. Why do you ask?"
"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?"
"I don't know, I...." my thoughts drifted again this time to my childhood.
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.
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.
"Do you know about your family, squirrel?"
"Mommy, Daddy and you, Nonna?"
"No little one, the story of your family?"
"No, Nonna."
"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.
I smiled, "Yes, I love Pop."
"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. Always look perfect and act perfect. Always remember you are a lady and you are a Cambridge. (I never corrected her grammar)
"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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
"Miss Cambridge.......Miss Cambridge."
I shook my head; lost for a second.
"Our time is up." his sweaty bald face smiled. I thanked him and left the office.
"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."
I bit my lip. "Sorry, Doctor, what were you asking."
"I was asking why you don't mention your paternal grandmother."
"I don't know. Why do you ask?"
"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?"
"I don't know, I...." my thoughts drifted again this time to my childhood.
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.
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.
"Do you know about your family, squirrel?"
"Mommy, Daddy and you, Nonna?"
"No little one, the story of your family?"
"No, Nonna."
"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.
I smiled, "Yes, I love Pop."
"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. Always look perfect and act perfect. Always remember you are a lady and you are a Cambridge. (I never corrected her grammar)
"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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
"Miss Cambridge.......Miss Cambridge."
I shook my head; lost for a second.
"Our time is up." his sweaty bald face smiled. I thanked him and left the office.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
A message to a friend
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.
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.
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.
MM (and all your friends at CoH/V)
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.
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.
MM (and all your friends at CoH/V)
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
On Privilege by Johnathan Bryce Purvis
I stayed up the rest of the morning reading this strange little book.
..... I emplore you to embrace your place in the world whether it be at the top or at the bottom for it means society is working.
..... It has been my observation that a growing number of the upper crust feel pity or even in some circumstances envy for those who are in fact disadvantaged. This by definition is foolishness and will disrupt the very fabric of our society. For one class to exist the other must be present. You have no privileged without the underprivileged. These feelings of empathy mock the Laws of Nature. That is not to say one cannot feel compassion for a starving child for it can be a pitiful sight indeed. But equal to those feelings of regret should be elation for one's own good fortune. One should ne'er feel shame for their own lot in life. Privilage is as intertwined in fate as the destinations of one's soul. It is written in the stars; touched by the hand of dominion.
..... In any political system the only true ruling class is the affluent and the cultured.
..... The masses are the lackeys of the prosperous. Society was in fact created on the backs of the needy by the minds of the elite. And the only way to perpetuate society is by the privileged to rule with stealth and clarity of purpose.
..... Fear of success is the acceptance of mediocrity. Superiority is the fear of failure and the conviction to never be in its pitiless stare.
..... Charity is the best act the wealthy can do to let the poor know where they stand in the hierarchy of society. Even if one's heart swells with feelings of fullfilment from giving to the less fortunate; one's mind should never lose sight of the fact that said charity is meerly reminding the receiver that they are inferior. The balance of power is acknowledged.
..... The privileged have every right to defend their place in society at any cost.
I finished the book exhausted, guilt ridden and confused. Who would send me this? And why?
On the last page was a hand written note:
To my beloved Dorothy. The world is ours. J.B.P. (your loving gentleman)
..... I emplore you to embrace your place in the world whether it be at the top or at the bottom for it means society is working.
..... It has been my observation that a growing number of the upper crust feel pity or even in some circumstances envy for those who are in fact disadvantaged. This by definition is foolishness and will disrupt the very fabric of our society. For one class to exist the other must be present. You have no privileged without the underprivileged. These feelings of empathy mock the Laws of Nature. That is not to say one cannot feel compassion for a starving child for it can be a pitiful sight indeed. But equal to those feelings of regret should be elation for one's own good fortune. One should ne'er feel shame for their own lot in life. Privilage is as intertwined in fate as the destinations of one's soul. It is written in the stars; touched by the hand of dominion.
..... In any political system the only true ruling class is the affluent and the cultured.
..... The masses are the lackeys of the prosperous. Society was in fact created on the backs of the needy by the minds of the elite. And the only way to perpetuate society is by the privileged to rule with stealth and clarity of purpose.
..... Fear of success is the acceptance of mediocrity. Superiority is the fear of failure and the conviction to never be in its pitiless stare.
..... Charity is the best act the wealthy can do to let the poor know where they stand in the hierarchy of society. Even if one's heart swells with feelings of fullfilment from giving to the less fortunate; one's mind should never lose sight of the fact that said charity is meerly reminding the receiver that they are inferior. The balance of power is acknowledged.
..... The privileged have every right to defend their place in society at any cost.
I finished the book exhausted, guilt ridden and confused. Who would send me this? And why?
On the last page was a hand written note:
To my beloved Dorothy. The world is ours. J.B.P. (your loving gentleman)
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Part 10: The two things heroes fear most
Ask any hero what they fear most and I bet you most of them will tell you one of two things. Probably both.
#1. Getting their powers. Most don't ask for their "special abilities". Heroes are usually normal people with normal lives until fate steps in. Many fear they will become too powerful and hurt themselves or others. Some fear how it will affect their lives. (It will. It always does.) Most fear the prejudices about metahumans (until recently it was not well accepted to be gifted); I find people would just rather fit in than stick out. But I think most just fear the unknown.
#2 Losing their powers. This one may surprise people. You see, hero work is a commitment. It is an "all-in" moment. A complete willingness to give up your time, career, relationships and maybe even your life for a greater good. (Some compare it to the priesthood) It is a decision one does not want to make in vain. So once made the thought of losing it is truly frightening.
Oh....and plus.....flying is REALLY FUN!!!
Linceti, Molten and myself made a nice little team. We spent the next few nights tracking down small time crooks in Atlas Park. Molten seemed to have a natural ability for finding teammates. Soon we found ourselves teaming with a sweet quiet teenager named Boomgirl with impressive sonic attacks. As we improved our security clearance we moved on to more challenging areas of the city. I was focused on getting into Perez Park (a minimum security level 7 zone known for harboring many Vahzilok gang members) maybe I could get some answers from one of them.
My powers were strengthening but they were definitely different than before. I could still use mental powers but they subdued and controlled more than merely damaged targets. I could actually visualize a victims mind and knew how to manipulate and dominate them. I could see fear, anger, emotions. I couldn't necessarily read their minds...I wasn't psychic but I could see exactly how to attack them and where they were vulnerable.
My protective powers were different also. I used to be able to create bubbles of force that defended myself and my allies from attacks. These powers originated from my mind as my new ones did. But the old ones didn't hurt like these. I could feel the tumor vibrate inside my head! It released precise frequencies that protected others and even weakened some. I quickly learned how to moderate these frequencies to help my allies. Although different my powers proved affective and my teammates proved worthy. We were leveling and strengthening much quicker than I did in my prior journey at the low levels. By September 13, I was already Security Level 15 and finally regained my flight powers. I said goodbye to my teammates and spent the remaining day and night in the peaceful beauty of the Paragon skyline. I flew for hours just glad to feel the freedom of air travel. My mind drifted to happier times....my childhood....my mothers kisses......my fathers wisdom......the peace I attained from the Smythe family......Tess's friendship.......fighting crime/making a difference.....the face of children after saving them from a burning building.....the cracked face of a 90 year old woman as she smiled when I rescued her from Rikti in Founder Falls.....Nicholas proposing to me. I welled up with tears. Happy tears. Some sad. I had my freedom back and things felt better. At 2:00 am I landed on my balcony in Steel Canyon and entered my apartment. I removed my uniform and put on my nightshirt. I sat on the couch tired and revitalized at the same time. Maybe things were getting back to normal. My mind drifted again to Nicholas Koropolis.
A shuffling noise outside the front door made me leap out of the couch. I pressed my ear to the door and heard footsteps outside the apartment and felt someone on the other end of the doorknob. With all my strength I threw the door open and instantly pushed the intruder against the opposing wall with telekinesis and froze the figure in his own mind. The body lay in front of me convulsing. It was Detective Donnelly. Oops.
After he came to, he apologized for frightening me. He had a southern accent and with it southern manners. I almost turn him into a vegetable and he apologized to me. He spun around apparently realizing before I did that I was half naked. I blushed and ran to get my robe. I offered him a seat at the kitchen table and asked if he'd like something to drink.
"Coffee would be great."
"I thought I was the only one that drank coffee at night." I laughed. I noticed he held a plain brown paper wrapped package. He saw me eyeing it.
"Oh, sorry" he apologized again "This was leaning up against your door when I walked up..."
"And why detective were you walking up?" I asked.
"I saw you earlier tonight with your team going into Perez Park from Skyway City. I know its dangerous in there and that Vahz tend to hang out there so I came by to see if you found anything out."
"But that was hours ago, Detective."
"Well yes ma'am. I've checked in every hour or so. This last time I saw the package then heard rustling inside so I got concerned."
"Well I heard you and got a little concerned myself. I almost fried your brain. Maybe you should knock next time." I smiled.
"Think I will, ma'am. Oh, and good to see you're getting those powers back. "he smiled. It was a great smile.
We talked for the next hour about what little evidence we had. All the Vahz I could interrogate were too low level and knew nothing. He had found the same to be true on his end. We talked briefly about other leads and strategies. He was easy to talk to; very open and charming. He paid attention to your words and never interrupted. I on the other hand found myself distracted by his crystal blue eyes and his intoxicating drawl. My thoughts drifted away when he stood from the table.
He excused himself politely; it was late and he didn't want to keep me from sleep. He turned as he opened the door and there was an awkward pause. "What is it?" he asked.
Wondering if he could read my thoughts......hoping he couldn't...oh god.....I hoped he couldn't. I just muttered something totally incoherent. I blushed and ran my hand through my hair. Damnit Amanda get yourself together! "Wha.....wha...Huh?"
"The package, ma'am." he grinned (damn I bet he knew) "What is it?"
I opened the package. It was an old leather bound book: On privilege by J. Purvis. I didn't recognize the title or the author. It was odd but obviously not threatening.
"Want me to take it in?"
"No...no...its just a book. If there is anything in it out of the ordinary I'll let you know." I blushed again. Another awkward pause. "Goodnight, Detective"
"Call me Frank, ma'am."
"Call me Mandy." I smiled and shut the door pulse racing. Too awake...too distracted I sat down, opened the book and began reading.
Thirteen facts about my new life
Here were the facts as I knew them.
1. On August 31 I woke up in an unmarked bunker in a costume I had never seen before.
2. I could not account for the three previous days.
3. I could not fly or use any of my powers.
4. My information was missing from the cities computer files.
5. I had been robbed of all the equipment and credentials I carried as a hero.
6. My home had been completely cleaned out with no sign of entry. (forced or welcomed)
7. An irradiated tumor that almost killed me as a child which also gave me heroic powers had miraculously moved to the opposite side of my brain. And I was still alive.
8. DNA samples of me and other heroes were stolen by Vahz operatives three months ago.
9. After many tests and interviews, it was determined that noone knew what had happened to me or my powers.
10. The city government, police and hero representatives were too busy to help.
11. I would have to go under the alias of Mental Maden2 and completely re-train from security level 1. (If I even had the potential to gain powers at all)
12. All my high leveled friends were preoccupied or unavailable.
13. I started having nightmares.
1. On August 31 I woke up in an unmarked bunker in a costume I had never seen before.
2. I could not account for the three previous days.
3. I could not fly or use any of my powers.
4. My information was missing from the cities computer files.
5. I had been robbed of all the equipment and credentials I carried as a hero.
6. My home had been completely cleaned out with no sign of entry. (forced or welcomed)
7. An irradiated tumor that almost killed me as a child which also gave me heroic powers had miraculously moved to the opposite side of my brain. And I was still alive.
8. DNA samples of me and other heroes were stolen by Vahz operatives three months ago.
9. After many tests and interviews, it was determined that noone knew what had happened to me or my powers.
10. The city government, police and hero representatives were too busy to help.
11. I would have to go under the alias of Mental Maden2 and completely re-train from security level 1. (If I even had the potential to gain powers at all)
12. All my high leveled friends were preoccupied or unavailable.
13. I started having nightmares.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Part 9: In the shadow of Atlas
I had waited no more than five minutes at the foot of the Atlas Statue when I was greeted by a friendly voice.
"Mental Maden?"
I looked up and smiled at what was a semi-familiar face. She definitely looked like her Aunt Onceti. "You must be Linceti," I said brightly offering my hand to her. We shook and exchanged pleasantries. "Are you ready for this?" I asked.
"Yes I am ma'am. And let me say its so great that I have someone to help me find my way around Paragon. I could really use the help." she said with the same cadance as her famous Aunt. The resemblance was uncanny. Oh the hair was a little different and she didn't have Onceti's trademark eye patch, but there was no doubt they were related.
"And Maden, I just want you to know that my aunt told me that your past is to be kept quiet. And let me just say that your secret's safe with me. I promise...."
"If May trusts you. That's all the promise I need. Now lets go out there and show those thugs some justice!" I said as we ran off into the streets of Atlas Park.
"No problem. Let's go." she said enthusiastically.
We spent the next few hours cleaning the streets of Hellion gangmembers and raiding Superdyne (a dangerous designer drug) labs in various warehouses. At first I showed Linceti a few pointers, but it all came very natural to her. I didn't want to be a pushy know-it-all so I let her ask me questions if needed. She was a real pro and took to hero work like her aunt. We were quickly gaining security levels and training with Miss Liberty, an old confidant, who made my first day easier by taking little jabs at me.
"Well hey there newb, do you need me to show you where the Atlas Statue is?" she asked as I trained up to security level 3. (For those unfamiliar #1 she stands under it #2 its huge!) And each consecutive level she had something new for me, always finishing with a friendly wink and a caring nod.
My commUnit rang with a tell from an unfamiliar name: Molten Quarrel. "I'm looking for a team. Any room?"
"Sure." I invited him to the team and we found him on the commUnit map. "We'll come to you."
He stood tall and strong with blue skin and a third eye. It turned out he ,too, had skills with bow and arrow as well as the power to control fire. He was quiet and thoughtful with obvious leadership skills.
We set off and teamed until just after midnight. We decided to call it a night and planned to meet up the next evening. We said our goodbyes, put each other on our commUnit friends list and headed in our own directions. I was off to Steel Canyon for a needed nights sleep.
After a long tram ride and what seemed an even longer elevator ride I was finally home exhausted and glad this first day was finally over. It had gone well; better than expected. My two teammates were good team players and sincerely nice individuals. That is rare to find in a town where the heroes seems to get younger and more obnoxious everyday. I set my alarm for 6:00 a.m. (I was teaching a 7:30 Intro to Microbiology class in the morning) and I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
I was flying above Founder's Falls, my childhood neighborhood, it was a peaceful wonderful day. The wind was soothing with the warmth of the sun on my back. I flew around admiring the beauty of the city when a large cloud swallowed the sun. I looked at the ground and saw the shape of the cloud's shadow shift from one amorphous form to another. I stopped, hovered and adjusted my eyes when I noticed the shadow had taken the ominous form of a bird. My head began to pound a cruel drumbeat and I began to hyperventilate......I felt my body giving in to gravity as i fell towards the giant bird's shadow mouth. FLASH!!!
I sat upright in bed, covers and pillows flying in all directions. I caught my breath and slowly looked toward the nightstand. The glowing numbers on my alarm clocked flashed 3:33 a.m.
Damn it.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Part 8: Begin Again (the second first)
"Nervous?" the voice asked behind me. Startled I turned. Smiling was the familiar face of Brighid Moriera.
"Oh, not really," I sighed "It just feels so surreal. You know? Here it is almost the same time of year that I started doing this so long ago and here I am in the same place. So many things have changed, yet I'm back at the beginning. I feel like Sisyphus rolling the rock up the hill."
I felt a warm tear trail down my face. Luckily it was the side opposite Brighid. I couldn't let anyone see me like this. I had to be strong. My mind trailed away to my first day fighting crime. Right here in Atlas Park. As I wiped the moisture from my face I smiled. Another tear followed. It felt like being the new kid in school. I walked downstairs to the offices of Dr. St. John Smythe.
He was reading some scientific article, as he always is, when I walked up to him. I looked down and smiled.
"You know you don't have to do this Mandy." he said returning the smile.
"I know Smithie." It was my name for him after he took me in. He wasn't my father; no one could take his place, but he was special. Possibly the only person on earth that even came close to Daddy. "But you know I have to do this. I have to find out whats behind this. What if other heroes are in danger."
"Mandy, you could just retire. I'll pull the strings; get you a nice retirement ceremony and I'm sure I can push for your pention as soon as the computer records are recovered."
"Now Smithie, you know I don't need a pension. You know more than anyone I don't need money."
"I know I know honey, it's just owed to you for your service."
"I never did this for money or for ceremonies, you of all people should know that."
His eyes beamed with pride. "You are so like your father at times. But thank god you look like your mother. " He laughed and half smiled. He wasn't happy I was doing this. His eyes said it all to me. I had seen that look before. I have had this conversation before. In this very spot. God it seems like so long ago..........my mind drifted back to my first day as a hero.
I stood before him a new hero looking brave and tough. Well, I was trying to look tough. I was wearing the brand new green uniform I designed with his daughter and my best friend ,Tess, before she headed back to Brown Medical School. I was excited and terrified. I had special abilities and I was bent on making a difference in the world. Besides I could do this for awhile then go to Med school. My knees shook, my eyes widened with excitement and I flashed him the smile that always got me what I wanted. (It worked on Daddy and over the years Smithie became weak to it.)
"You know you don't have to do this Amanda?" he said trying to resist my big eyed smile. "You have all the money in the world, a great mind like your dad's, the beauty of your mother, your youth. All the potential in the world to have a life much better than most......"
"You know I have to do this Smithie. It's for all those reasons I should do this. I owe this city for all its given my family...."
"Give to charity, give your time after Med school to a free clinic, hell build a hospital. You can have anything the world has to offer. I don't think you want what is coming to you. Its dangerous, Mandy."
"I know Smithie" attack of the smile again.
"Your father would kill me ,bless his soul, if he knew I was letting you do this."
I smiled even bigger, "You didn't have a choice. Love you Smithie." I kissed him on his cheek and ran off into Atlas Park for my first day as a hero.
"Amanda....Amanda.......what were you thinking about?" he said snapping his fingers in my face.
I shook my head; back to the present. I grinned, "We've had this conversation before, remember?"
"Don't remind me! He'd never forgive me for letting you do this twice. He only wanted the best for you. He loved you so much. I love you Mandy. Love you like my own."
"I know....I know. Love you Smithie." I kissed him on his cheek and ran off into Atlas Park for my second first day as a hero.
Part 7: The bitter chill of morning air and disappointment
I sat rocking on the bed for an eternity. I was strung out with stress and anxiety. The taste of bile mixed with the nausea waging war with my insides. I was cold. I checked the thermostat innumerable times. Temperature was fine. It was me. I've had nightmares before, believe me, going through juvenile cancer will cause bad dreams. This was different because it all felt so real. I was losing it and noone could help me. Wait....I have friends....They will help me....Dr. St. John Smythe...he will help. No I have noone. I felt powerless....weak....ineffective.....paranoid. Every shadow turned into the bird's shadow. Every sound from the street sounded like the cries of the dying in that unnamed city. The vastness of the Shadow Shard drained my will. My brain hurt....it vibrated...my brain vibrated...The tumor??? or just stress....should I call my doctor. The clock mockingly glowed 4:47. I passed out with exhaustion. This time no flashes....just paralyzing sleep.
I woke to loud beeping. I knew the sound, it wasn't an alarm it was my CommUnit. I shook my aching head, focused my eyes and grabbed the unit. The clock read 5:33. Who needs me now....Who knows my new alias?
"Miss Mental! Miss Mental!" It was Winter and she sounded frantic. "Mental I.....uh....you need to come to the base of the statue, right now."
"Winter, Winter, calm down, I'll be there. Give me a minute"
I went to the closet and grabbed my uniform. (The one I had never seen before the other day) I locked the apartment and took the elevator to the street trying to brush the cobwebs from my mind. I should have brushed......vomit breath. The morning was cold, but a good cold, it woke me up made things more clear.
As I approached the statue I could see Winter sitting on the foot of the statue, her head down almost in shame. She slowly looked up at me her eyes circled black with exhaustion and strain. I didn't have to ask her I could see. She'd been speeding around the city all night, nonstop, as she was trying to do this task for me. Her head fell back as soon as it looked up. She didn't want me to see her disappointment.
"I think I failed you Mental. I'm so sorry. I went to the places you told me and talked to some...Some were gone...I tried...I've been running all night........"
"Winter, settle down, tell me whats wrong. Take a breath."
She inhaled and exhaled. She looked down again.
"I'm sorry Mental but they can't come...."
"Its ok I didn't expect them all to come. I mean it was last minute." I laughed.
"No, none of them can come. None of them"
"None? Hoard?"
"He's moved ....I couldn't find him at his old house, so I sent him an offline message."
"Tellania?" I asked
"Shadow Shard Task Force."(hmmm,That may come in handy) "Another offline message. The Troll Princess is somewhere on a lead about her brother. Her assistant said she's in one of her moods. Solar Mistress wouldn't answer. Not sure about her. But you know."Her finger circled the side of her head. The crazy sign.
"Well Medistar and Tetsujin Kaga now they....."
"Medi is rumored to be doing cross dimensional work on Earth Virtue(an alternate Earth dimension) I uh heard he looks different there, uh nevermind. Anyway, Tet's in Japan at some food competition. Again, offline messages. The only one I actually talked to was May and she's sick. Flu. I told her she needed to drink lots of fluids and lots and lots of Vitamin C.....I never get sick cause I drink lots of water and take vitamins...you know I read somewhere..."
"Winter, focus!" I half yelled. Her dazed eyes focused at this order.
"Oh, sorry, I went to see her. Just now. Woke her up but did make her breakfast and ran to the pharmacy for her and got her some medicine and vitamins..."
"Winter!"
"Sorry, sorry, anyway she gave me a name. Her niece or something. She said she's new in Paragon and could help you early on. She's a new hero, too." she realized what she had said. "I mean...I didn't mean you were a new hero.. I just mean someone to team with since they are all gone for now and you know I don't think I will be able to for awhile. I'm tired. Really tired."
I laughed and looked at her sagging posture with pride and pity. She was spent. The poor thing ran herself to death for me. "You did well Winter, don't be worried. They all got the messages. Thats all that matters. They will come through; they always do. I don't want you patrolling or mishing (hero term for running missions) for anyone for awhile. I want you to rest and study. Now go home. And thank you so much for your hard work."
She looked up and smiled. Approval revived her and ZIP she was off. She was three blocks away when she turned and waved goodbye. I laughed and turned toward my building. At least I had a name of someone to team with until the others came back: Linceti May.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Part 6: The red skies of insanity
Despair flooded my mind in such strong waves I cried out in anguish. Tears flowed down my cheeks like twin salty waterfalls. Never in my life had I felt this much darkness and fear in my soul. Why? I didn't know, but it felt as if the pain of the world was directed into me. All I could do was wail to let the agony out. But as depression goes this only snowballed the feelings. I was a wreck...and completely unaware at first of the foreign landscape that surrounded me. The sky was a beautiful mixture or crimson and violet. Cloud formations moving quickly almost hypnotizing the viewer. I had been here before. It was the Shadow Shard, a transdimensional region that was being explored by the only the bravest and most powerful heroes of Paragon City. It was breathtakingly beautiful but extremely dangerous. Why was I there? How did I get there? There was no way I could be there with my new lowered security level. Then I noticed I was in my old uniform. Not the one I had on when I woke up in the bunker but the one I had fought in before that day. And orbiting me was the faint green glow of my force field. Could it be I was restored to my old self? The force field was conclusive proof. Maybe all was finally back to normal? But why was I so upset? FLASH!!!
I was standing in the ruins of a city. One that I could not immediately recognize. Buildings,trees and vehicles were tossed aside like matchsticks. I had to collect my thoughts. My vision was blurred. I shook myself to restore my sight when I noticed I was standing in the epicenter of what had to be a nuclear blast. But as my sight became clear I saw that although this city was destroyed as far as one could see there was no smoke or flame, just dust. My forcefield was on....that's what must have saved me. But who caused this? Who was I fighting? Was it?????FLASH!!!
I was in the middle of a quiet room sitting in a wooden chair, the only piece of furniture in sight. Sunlight from the window in front of me blinded me to the point of pain. I stood and spun around to avoid the glare and looked at the wall behind me. There cast against the wall paired with mine was the shadow of a bird flitting outside the window. I didn't see it due to the brightness. It was a peaceful site. As the bird flew away its shadow became larger until it enveloped the entire wall swallowing mine with its size. I saw its mouth open and although the bird had to be a good distance from the building it let out a squeal as loud as any train whistle I have ever heard. Glass broke from the window. It shook me and chilled me. I spun around to see this strange bird. Nothing there and the sunlight now hid behind a cloud.FLASH!!!
I sat up in my bed, nightshirt dripping with sweat. Pain, fear and confusion swirled through me like evil in pill form. I ran to the bathroom and vomited. Oh thank god....It was all a dream. I looked at the clock....3:33 a.m. Just a few hours until my meeting with the others. I needed the sleep but something told me it wouldn't come easily. As soon as my head hit the pillow. FLASH!!!
I flew over the ruins of the same destroyed city. I could hear the cries of the few remaining living , my soul repelled with the horror. I went from neighborhood to neighborhood desparately trying to find some of the survivors. After several hours of searching, I flew as far up as I could go to survey the damage. It was horrible...anyone's worse nightmare.....As far as my eyes could see destruction..... Past the city and into the countryside that surrounded it.....ruined. My head started to spin and I fell toward the ruins. The ground grew in size quickly. I passed out. Blackness. FLASH!!!
I sat bolt upright in bed. Knees pressed to my chest as I rocked back and forth. I looked over at the clock.....3:33 a.m. I didn't try to sleep again. Coffee....yeah, coffee would be good.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Part 5: Who needs FedEx when you have friends with superspeed?
I knew I couldn't solve this mystery alone and that there were but a few people I could trust to help me. Whoever or whatever was causing these changes in me could be anywhere, anyone....anything. I needed someone to deliver the request for me. Someone with speed. Super speed.
I first met Winter Flux in Brickstown. She was side-kicking (teaming with a much stronger and more experienced hero for training purposes... a risky way of learning but often used to "fast-track" a career) with a friend and occasional teammate of mine: HOTCHILL. Winter was a brash, smart-mouthed teenage mutant with powers to not only freeze a target but also shock it into submission. She was overconfident but far from underpowered. I watched her hold Freakshow Tank Swipers with an electric field then freeze them in their tracks under a block of ice. Although she was a little rough around the edges I saw that day she had potential....as a hero and as a friend. We were two different people from two very different worlds.
She came from the wrong side of the tracks. The youngest child of a single mom trying to make ends meet in Kings Row. After her mutation was discovered her mother wanted to exploit her powers for money, but Winter just wanted to be a normal kid. For two years her mother would come home drunk and tell her daughter that she could never love a freak like her. She moved out when she was 14. She crashed with various friends and family in the area while she went to school. She had to grow up quickly and become tough to make it in "the Row". She talked fast and fought fast, but she was a good kid...really wanted to make a difference. She was a good student that made friends quickly. And even though she was one her own, living off others, and while tempting as it was with her mutant abilities, she never broke the law. Never even let anyone outside her family know of her gift. After highschool she took odd jobs and started freelance hero work.....a little for kicks and a little for justice.
After I saw her in Bricks, I took her under my wing: got her an apartment and a scholarship at the University through the Cambridge Education Fund. She was grateful and fiercely loyal. I have always been in awe of her energy. She is fearless, sometimes wreckless and always tireless. Especially when it comes to talking. She's like a demonic talking Elmo doll on bad Arkansas meth. She can go on and on and on about anything and nothing. Once while fighting an army of Rikti warriors, teammates fighting to stay alive, she could be heard babbling about her favorite Deathcab for Cutie album and the previous nights episode of the OC. All the while freezing and electrifying what I would think would be very confused aliens. The girl is figuritively and literally a dynamo. But one thing she can do faster than talking is running. Once I saw her tear through Peregrine Island right through a troupe of Carnival of Shadows leaving them bewildered as to where the source of the off-keyed rendition of Blue Monday was coming from (And if you are wondering it was the New Order version not Orgy's which she has told me many times is the best...she has argued with Hoard of Souls innumerable times on this topic alone) only to run back by the same group singing an equally awful version of Firestarter by Prodigy.
I gave her the list of friends to call on and the time and location to meet. Without question she took the task and left in a flash. In the distance I could hear the sour notes of some Kelly Clarkson song, I shuddered then I laughed.....
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Merry Christmas!!!
Hoping everyone has a great Xmas. More posts to come! The plot thickens......
Mental
Mental
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Part 4.2: Who do you trust?.....who can you trust? (My later days)
Terra Volta changed me. Not only did it improve my powers due to excess radioactive exposure, but it renewed my faith in other heroes. I made contacts in TV that still hold true today directly and indirectly. Fighting in a nuclear reactor is no easy task....obviously. Teamwork is a key to survival and lets just say the first few groups i went in with were a nightmare. I ended up in the hospital dozens of times and couldn't seem to stop the insurgence of Sky Raiders. (Sky Raiders are a weasly group of paramilitary mercenaries that plague the eastern seaboard.) Even through the many failures in T.V. I met a few heroes that I bonded with. The first that comes to mind is a big demon, Blue Lucifer. Huge and at first intimidating, he soon turned out to be a realy sweetheart with a wicked sense of humor. With him was Illyria Rx, an excellent illusionist and healer that I still see every now and then in Paragon City. Though we didn't completely save the reactor, heroes behind us helped cull the onslaught. Blue and his crew went on days later and saved the reactor from explosion while I was away. They went on teaming for a few days but I stayed in Independence Port because rumor had it the Raiders were planning a second assault. True enough they did and then I met BrainPain. Again we failed to completely stop the raid, but after we were sent to the hospital and revived the two of us talked for hours and found we had alot in common.
So there I was going from virtually no friends to many who then aquainted me with even more. Blue was very connected and introduced me to members of the Becoming, a mystical group of heroes. I met Nekro an energy blaster with some of the more devistating attacks I've seen even today. I then met two people that are still very important to me today: Medistar and Lil Debil. Medi, a quiet fellow and a bit shy showed to become a great empath and more importantly a loyal teammate. I teamed with him all the way to Security Level 50. He is someone I can trust. Lil Debil is the type of teammate that makes fighting crime almost enjoyable. Not only is she this little ball of energy but she can, when provoked, talk a blue streak with the best of sailors. They soon combined and formed a great super group known as Dark Justice. They of course offered me a spot but I declined due to my promise to Nicole. They had super group stuff to do alot so my teaming with them was sporadic for a few levels. I spent about the next 6 levels teaming mostly with BrainPain. For two "squishies" we made one hell of a team. The two of us put quite a hurting on the Circle of Thorns and especially the Devouring Earth. Occasionally this lower level blaster would tag along and side kick with Brain. His name was Tetsujin Kaga to this day one of my most trusted collegues. We teamed together in Brickstown and Founders Falls for months. About this time the Neo Nazi group the 5th Column was taken over by the fascist Council. And that was many days spent cleaning the streets of their infighting. At the same time the Winter Lord (Frosty on steroids) wreaked havoc across Paragon. We were busy and we were becoming great heroes. Then something strange happened to Brain. She became distant and began soloing. After level 34 I pretty much didn't see her again. Tet and I mished as much as we could but he was of lower security clearance and some problems were off limits to him. I then reconnected with Lil Debil and this crazy reformed Troll, Sam Stonehands. We fought the Winter Lord and his minions for what seemed weeks. We then turned out attention to the Rikti (alien invader) in Founders Falls and Crey's Folley. The three of us teamed regularly until one day Sam disappeared never to be seen again . Later I met his long lost twin sister ,Suzanne Stonehands. Apparently they were separated at birth and she was shipped off to an alternate dimension known as the Pinnacle Shard where she too reformed and fought under the name Suzi Fusion. She had no sooner come to this dimension and discovererd she had a brother when he vanished. Ever since she has been angry and fought blindly any evil forces in Paragon.
I became distracted with work at the University and watched as alot of my friends went on to more challenging tasks. Blue Lucifer, Illyria and Nekro all leveled up to 50 while I was stuck in my late thirties. I then learned that BrainPain too had gone missing. She had reached Security Level 50, she the top of her profession and was about to retire. Her husband killed her in her sleep. (I had always heard rumors he resented the time she devoted to hero work.) He was later killed in prison by an inmate Brain had once rescued from the Family mafia organization.
That left me and Lil Debil and she too had responsibilities outside of hero work. So once again I spent the next few levels mostly alone. Although I did enjoy the occasional team with Lil, Tet and Medi. Then at Level 41 I met a smart mouthed scrapper called Ronin Popiel. We were trying to do a task for the Woodsman in the environmental wasteland called Eden. True to form a great friendship came from a tragic failure. We started teaming together where he introduced me to Tellania, a extradimensional being that would prove to be the greatest tanker I would ever worked with. As I teamed with them and became even more powerful Lil returned to hero work again and took up with a great Katana scrapper, Hoard of Souls. We all soon began teaming with each other almost daily and little by little we all approached our late 40's. Lil then disappeared, not to be heard from for sometime. I hoped she hadn't met the same fate as some of my other close friends.
Ronin soon left angry with the politics of Paragon and became caught up in a controversial theory that some godlike entities known as the Developers were altering hero's powers. (As a side note: I did not start offbelieving this theory but lately am beginning to wonder) Tellania introduced me to what turned out to be a friend of Suzanne Stonehands (now known as the Troll Princess). Her name was Onceti May, a weather controlling mentalist with some powers similar to my own. We took her under our wings and showed her the world of crime fighting.
My late 40s were the best time I spent in Paragon fighting evil. Hoard was well connected and a natural leader, always able to throw together a team of heroes. Tellania was invulnerable and had super strength but was also very intelligent and knowledgable in all aspects of hero work, especially extradimensional worlds. Medistar was the consumate healer always there to save a teammate from possible death. Tetsujin was a powerful blaster with keen abilities in stealth and bombs. And our little Onceti May proved to be a quick learner and while she started off almost 20 levels behind us she quickly became quite powerful and by the end of the summer we were all level 50 heroes looking towards our futures in or out of hero work.
Then I ended up in a bunker with almost no powers and no memory of how it happened. These were the only people I could trust.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Part 4.1: Who do you trust?.....who can you trust? (My early days)
I received the official notice from CHII the next morning from Azuria personally. I had relocated to one of our family apartments in Steel Canyon not far from my old place. It was once used to house any family guests in town and hadn't been occupied in years. Festus McDonough, a third generation butler of our family and house steward at Pemiscot Hall, my family's four story penthouse in Founder's Falls, had some furniture and linens delivered from storage. As he always does he asked politely for me to move back to the Hall but as always I politely said, "Not yet Festus, I'm not ready." And he politely said it was there ready for me when I was.
I read the report when I was finally alone and was not too surprised by the decision. Having fought more Preatorians than I care to count, I was a big supporter of the Laws reguarding such issues. I had been in denial. My powers were somehow weakened....maybe disappearing. No one had answers and for the first time in my hero life I was scared. Oh and also annoyed. It seemed the council felt it important for me to seak therapy and they "highly recommended" that hack shrink Haverschmidt. Not a chance in hell.
A courier later brought me my med porter and comm unit discretely wrapped in brown paper. Nothing is worse than losing a comm unit and then having to input all your contacts back into it. Heroes are known for strange spellings of their aliases. Heck look at mine. That is its own strange story.
I had to find the keys to this mystery and I was beginning to feel the city had bigger problems. This is something I had to do myself, but I would need help and who could I trust? That is a more complicated question than it seems.
Its hard to trust others as a hero. One of the first intangible rules you learn as a hero is to put a barrier up when it comes to other heroes. The vocation of justice has its pitfalls. People get hurt and some unfortunately die in the line of duty. Some go mad with power and turn to the other side. And others just disappear. You build strong bonds with people you fight with. Warriors for ages have felt the brotherhood of war. While the bond is strong it is also delicate for one minute a friend is there then the next they are merely memory. It hurts everytime....first.....third.....thirtieth. It seems to happen every ten levels...don't ask me why.
It made me think of my early days in Paragon City as a hero. I didn't know anyone so I hit the streets alone; not easy for a defender of any level I might add. I gradually made friends and joined a Supergroup known as the Minutemen. We were a small group but grew tight. We fought into our mid teens but quickly members started to leave for other pursuits. Troy Saint, a very nice person, and powerful robotic scrapper left first: disappeared without a trace after a night of fighting the Circle of Thorns in Perez Park. Next to leave was Jennifer Govern, my first steady sidekick who I showed around Paragon, taught to use flight and fought bravely with especially in Skyway City. Lastly as numbers began dwindling the membership started to leave for other supergroups or other cities that needed help, the founder of the group Nicole Summers left of all things to pursue a career in music. (Gave up hero work to be a rockstar of all things.) I was left with leadership in the Minutemen but knew the group was done. Nicole promised she'd be back if the rock thing didn't work out and asked me to keep an eye on the team. I made a promise I would. For that reason I never left the Minutemen even though I had several tempting offers from some powerful supergroups.
So there I was a level 17 hero with noone left to team with and to be honest I was a little bitter over being left behind. I spent the next ten levels figuring out my place in random teams. This to some is a dangerous option considering some heroes can be irresponsible with their powers. But what was I to do? I wanted to make a difference and I had given up so much to pursue the life of crime fighting. I took on missions from many contacts throughout the city and even did work for some of the Freedom Phalanx: Positron ( a real taskmaster), Synapse (as quick a talker as he is a sprinter) and Sister Psyche (a former teacher of mine as a teenage). I really focused on my powers and defending other heroes during this time but didn't really establish any true friendships until the day the Skyraiders invaded Terra Volta. It was then I made some contacts that have lasted until today. And I needed some of their help. But who could I trust? Who can you really trust?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)