Life and Light: Shadow-Force Reborn (Updated May 8, 2019)

Life and Light: Shadow-Force Reborn (Updated May 8, 2019)

Hello out there! This is a solo Mutants & Masterminds campaign following on from a very long-running Champions game retired fondly years ago, dubbed "Shadow-Force". Details on the setting are posted in this thread.

Some of you may remember me as the writer of The Shadow Knows!, another solo M&M campaign but one very different in tone. (The similarity in names between "The Shadow" and "Shadow-Force" is pure coincidence - the two worlds have nothing in common, except for an in-joke or two.) This is more of a four-color experience. Plots have been laid for this current campaign for quite some time; it's been good to get it in action!

The game is usually played over the phone, though the GM - who goes by SuentisPo online, or SP for short - and I sometimes manage to get together for a marathon in-person session. Work scheduling issues often get in the way, but we will probably manage to game every 2-3 weeks. (I have a backlog of existing sessions to start posting, so that'll tide things over for a while.)

This first post is actually a short-short I wrote as a proposal to SP about how to start off the new game. (It involves retconning one of the final adventures of the original campaign.) He approved it.

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Life and Light

Jon stirred, moaning. He'd never felt so much pain, not even his first day as a superhero when he'd been shot multiple times. Somebody was saying something, but it took him a while to take it in. "Photon, can you hear me? Photon, can you hear me?" Finally, he managed to croak, "Yes, Alpha, I'm awake." The computer's voice radiated relief. "Good. Do you need medical attention?"

"Dunno yet. Hurts like anything. Just a second." Taking a minute to catalog all his aches and pains, he cautiously tried to turn over and get his legs under him - then yelped as his ribs shot fire all through his torso. "Yowch!" Reflexively, he reached out to the zero-point, the timeless quantum satori of subatomic reality. His body scintillated for a moment, then he stood up. "Er. I think I needed some until just now. What just happened?" X-97 Alpha was uncharacteristically silent for a moment. "You, uh, took light-form for a split-second. Strobed on my camera." "What?! And I'm still here?! And in one piece?" "Seems so." "No broken ribs any more, either. Weird. Anyway... Whoa! What the heck hit me?!"

"Jessica." "Huh?! Erebus' girlfriend?" "Yep." "She, uh, doesn't have powers? That was no ordinary blow." "Didn't. She's been infected by the Shadow Realm, and apparently it's gone to her head. Shot you in the back with a darkbolt." "Why me? Oh, right. Duh. Light powers." "Right. She probably saw you as the biggest threat around."

Jon collected his wits, trying to take in the situation. The room - the dining area of the Shadow Force base - was a mess, chairs and smashed crockery everywhere. "Where is she now?" He started striding to the Situation Room. "Opened a portal to the Shadow Realm and left." "Where's the rest of the team?" "The Phantom and Erebus are in the Shadow Realm too. No word for several hours. Bazooka and Brimstone are out on patrol; I've called them back in. Beta's doing Show and Tell for some school kids; he'll be back soon too. Technoid... he's puttering. As usual." "Yeah." Technoid hadn't been the same since he'd been accidentally melded with his armor and other inventions a couple months previous.

Soon the remainder of the Shadow Force was gathered in the Situation Room. Jon outlined the situation with Alpha's help, then appealed to Bazooka. "What do we do now?" The older man shook his head. "Not much we can do. Unless Scott can whip up a Shadow Realm portal?"

Technoid smiled distantly. "Probably. With time. My other project takes up much of my attention." Bazooka barked at him, "Dammit, Scott! Mike and James are your friends! You've known them longer than we have!" The cybernetic gadgeteer shrugged. "I value their existence. But there are... higher issues... at stake." Bazooka shook his head in disgust. "Higher issues which, as usual, you can't be bothered to explain." "Quite correct."

Jon broke in, "There has to be something we can do!" Bazooka shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "Erebus is the only hero I've ever heard of with Shadow Realm power. We wouldn't even have heard of the place if not for him." Brimstone offered hesitantly, "Maybe there's a mage out there who can cast a spell to contact them?" Beta's mechanical voice stated flatly, "Contacting the Guardians is the logical course of action."

Everyone except Technoid (who continued to stare off into space) stared at the robot. (Beta wasn't usually known for his brains, and didn't talk much.) Alpha enthused, "That's actually a great idea, brother!"

Jon nodded. "It is." The Galactic Guardians were the resident superhero team of Washington, D.C., and were some of the most powerful beings on the planet. They also acted as an informal information clearinghouse and liason for hero teams throughout the country. "I suppose you'll talk to them, Bill?" Bazooka shook his head. "I know how to fight; I leave the talking to those who can do it." "Right. How about you, Liz?" (Technoid and Beta were obviously out of the question.) Brimstone shook her head too. "Go for it, Jon. You've dealt with them before."

Jon swallowed, "Er, yeah. OK." Fighting down his sometimes-crippling shyness, he told Alpha, "Open a line to the Guardians." "Got it, Photon." A videoscreen came to life, and Starflare looked directly at him. "Photon! Good to hear from you guys in Seattle again. What's up?" Jon flushed - Starflare was too cute for words. "Er, uh. Yeah." Starflare smiled patiently, used to her effect on young men... "Uh, the Phantom and Erebus have vanished into the Shadow Realm, and we don't know how to go after them. Plus, at least one person - Erebus' girlfriend - has been infected with Shadow power. Frankly, we're at a loss as to how to proceed."

The Lady of Light frowned. "I see your problem. The Shadow Realm is 'far' from the Earth dimension, I'm told. Not many people have been there. I'm sending Dr. Miracle your way, he might be able to help." "Thanks..." Jon was interrupted by a POOF and an impressive puff of smoke as the mage teleported in. The effect was somewhat spoiled by the fact he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and mismatched socks. Swearing softly, he snapped his fingers and his costume appeared around him. "Right, well, yes. Let's get started."

After several hours of arcane manipulations (literally), Dr. Miracle sighed helplessly. "Sorry, kid. There's nothing I can do. I can see vaguely into the blasted place, but not well enough to find them. If I had a Shadow-imbued object or person to work with, I could probably do better, but... Buck up, though. Erebus is the only expert on the Shadow Realm around, and a survivor like no other. As for the Phantom, he's a Class Five psychic and a top-notch hero - we've had an eye on him ever since the P.S.I. incident. They'll turn up."

------------------------

After a month of the two heroes not turning up, Bazooka called another team meeting. The ex-military man's face was hard and sad. "Let's face facts, people. Mike and James aren't coming back any time soon. And they, with Scott, are the core of the team. They're gone and Scott is useless. What are we left with in terms of a team?" He looked around slowly, and continued, "I have no illusions about my own ability. I've got powers, yeah, but I'm not versatile - I shoot things and that's it. Liz has a few more tricks, but she's in pretty much the same boat. Beta punches things as well as shooting them. Jon, you're versatile, but frankly you're green as hell. What's more, none of us have the contacts in the city and beyond that the Phantom had; and with Jessica gone, our bankroll could dry up at any second."

Jon said quietly, "You're talking about splitting up." "What choice do we have? We're going through the motions at the moment, and sure we can handle any bank robbery or whatever that turns up. But if another mentalist like the Doctor comes to town, do you think any of us stands a real chance? He killed the Freedom Squad single-handed, and if the Phantom hadn't been there to protect us we'd all be dogmeat too. Every single one of us, except maybe Beta. What if Diabolus comes back? Without Erebus, none of us has any magical ability. Hell, even Forestrike and his gang would probably push us over at the moment!"

"So, what? We're going to stop hero-ing? Seattle needs us!" "No. Liz and I have talked, and we'll keep at it together - either here or in Phoenix where her folks are. But by hanging out our shingle as a team, as Shadow-Force, we attract a certain class of enemy, get into certain kinds of trouble - bigger trouble than we can handle. I don't like it either, Jon, but that's how it is."

"And what about Mike's body?! He's still on life support in the vault while his mind astral-projects to God knows where!" Bazooka sighed. "Jessica's dad will likely find it cheaper to put him up in a hospital than to maintain this whole base. It's the least he can do."

Near tears, Jon asked, "Alpha? Beta?" Alpha said slowly, "I'm wired into this building. I can be reinstalled elsewhere, but frankly it'd be a pain - both literally and figuratively." Beta stated, "My father is dead and my brother is here. I have friends here. I will stay." Jon nodded slowly. "Okay then."

Speaking to a press conference later that day, heart pounding, Jon told his city, "Yes, Shadow-Force is breaking up. But I for one will continue to stand up for Seattle for as long as there is life and light in me. X-97 Beta stands with me. If there is anyone else out there with the power and the heart to join us, we will welcome you."

"But even if not - even if we have to stand alone - we will not leave our city to those who would prey upon it. We just won't."

"You have my word."

1 - So It Begins

In the days that followed the news conference, calls poured in from around the country, notably from teams that Shadow-Force had worked with in the past.

Starflare called on behalf of the Galactic Guardians in Washington: "That was brave. We know you're capable, so we'll do what we can for you; we can't hold your hand, but if you need major help, we're there."

Moke of the Portland Protectors, who'd worked with Shadow-Force a number of times on regional issues: "Terribly sorry to hear you guys are breaking up. Any word on the Phantom or Erebus?" "None, I'm afraid," Photon told him. "That's a shame. We'll help out where we can - we can't get up there fast, but we'll try to arrange to have one of us up there on a rotating basis." "I really appreciate it. And if you guys need anything, well, I can be there fast." "Might well take you up on that. Stay safe!"

Lone Star called from Dallas on behalf of her teammate Pecos Bill, who had worked closely with the Phantom against P.S.I.: "Bill would have called himself, but he's got unavoidable family business. We just want you to know we're thinkin' of you."

Likewise, a Miami team that had helped against P.S.I. called with condolences and good wishes, along with miscellaneous others.

It just made Jon feel all the more alone, really - driving home that the team was dead, its heart ripped out.

Alpha called another team meeting (ex-team meeting?) shortly after. "Bazooka, Brimstone - I understand you're considering moving to Arizona. Is that definite?" Bazooka said quietly, "Yes." "Can I convince you to stay a few weeks longer?" "We have to leave within three weeks. What's up?" "I'm worried about Technoid." [Me: "You know it's serious when your computer wants to stage an intervention." ]

Alpha paused to let that sink in, then said, "His lab is sealed, and my sensors in there have gone dead. The power drain in there is... significant. He hasn't eaten in 24 hours, and I don't think he's slept in the last 48. Somebody needs to talk to him." Jon offered, "I can try to fly in there in light-form...?" "By all means."

The four heroes walked grimly to the armored door leading to the lab. Brimstone said, "Let's try talking to him first." Pressing the intercom button, she said, "Scott, can you hear me? Scott, are you there? Scott, we're concerned about you." Jon added, "We're your friends, Scott. We care about you." There was no response. After several more tries, Bazooka said, "Over to you, Jon."

Jon sighed and swept the lab door with his X-ray vision before trying anything rash. "Uh oh. He's reinforced the door with a force field. I can't get through that." Bazooka nodded grimly. "Liz, can you teleport in?" "I'll try..." There was a chuffing sound and the usual stench of sulfur, but Brimstone didn't vanish; instead she doubled over in pain, gasping, "Yep, he's got the place shielded all right!"

Bazooka said coldly, "Right. That's hostile." Jon cut in, "Wait a minute! Let's not jump to conclusions!" Bill ground his teeth, then said, "Well, in any case, we need to get in there. I'm shooting the door down. You with me?" "Yeah."

Bill planted his feet and called up his force field, a stationary cylindrical affair he could extend into his namesake kinetic blasts. Photon joined him, activating his best laser configuration. The two blasts struck in unison, visibly crumpling the door but not destroying it. A second coordinated blast took large chunks out of the door; the half-visible force field flickering somewhat but staying more or less on.

Taking a look through the gaps was... confusing. There appeared to be a large energy construct hovering over a platform of some kind - round, and ringed by glowing arcs of energy. "The angle's wrong," Bill muttered, "it can't be that big." As they were pondering, Beta casually ripped the remainder of the door off its hinges; the force field took this as the last straw and flickered out. When they looked at him quizzically, the robot stated, "It was more efficient this way." Shrugging, Bill and Jon went in.

The room was large, much too large for the building. Where it had been a good-sized laboratory with a twelve-foot ceiling, now it was a forty-foot cube. Bill said incredulously, "This isn't possible." Jon, ever the scientist, said practically, "If we're seeing what's really there, obviously it is possible." "Fair enough..." They looked at the energy construct.

Twenty feet across if it was an inch, the rings of energy - three of them - proved to surround the twelve-foot inner sphere orthogonally. Jon examined it on several different wavelengths. "Don't shoot it, whatever you do." "Why not?" "Those rings are shielding us from the thing in the middle. It's... well, it's putting out a LOT of energy. Like a small sun. If the rings get deactivated, we're all dead. So is a good-sized chunk of Seattle - maybe all of it, I'm not sure." Bazooka: "Er, yeah. Don't shoot it. Got it. Thanks."

After some awed pondering, Bazooka wondered aloud, "What's the power source? We don't want to shoot that, either!" Jon nodded, "Good point." After scanning some more, he said, "Good grief. He's got a microfusion reactor in there. It's powering the rings; the power draw on the electrical grid is only to keep the reactor going. Do you have any idea how much that thing would be worth? Billions, easy." (Although he couldn't make sense of the controls, Jon could manage to read the gauge for fuel usage; the reactor had sufficient fuel to keep going for years, if not decades.) Bill nodded. "Well... let's find him."

A search of the remainder of the room turned up a pallet Technoid evidently slept on, leads from a large nearby machine resting on it. There was also a strange device with six parabolic emitters attached to it with cables; Photon speculated hesitantly that it might have something to do with the energy construct. Also a machinery-encrusted tube large enough for a human body, though it was empty. Though there was much large equipment around, Jon's X-ray vision found no trace of Technoid.

"Alpha, are you getting any of this? Can you see through Beta's eyes?" Alpha's voice came faintly through the speaker outside the door, "I lose contact with him in there, sorry. What's going on?" Jon told him; after a long pause, Alpha said, "That is... not logical, but if you say you see it, I believe you. Can you get me a look in there?" Jon went and fetched a video camera on a cable to the outside so Alpha could see. "Bizarre. Can't help you, sorry. I got nothing." (Intrigued by Alpha's inability to communicate directly with the room, Jon checked: Radar pulses went through the door only very sluggishly.)

Bill looked around and snarled in frustration, "Where can he be?!"

Jon started. "But it's obvious." "Huh?!" Jon shrugged and hooked a thumb at the energy construct. "Unless he teleported out or something, he's got to be in that thing. It's big enough." They all stared at the glowing ball again. "I will be damned," Bill muttered, "...Jon, can you polarize your vision or something to see in there? It's too bright for us."

"Huh. Dunno, never tried. Let me think about it..." After a few seconds of tinkering with the fabric of spacetime and/or chatting up his subatomic buddies, Jon succeeded in stopping down the brightness considerably. "Oh. Oh my."

There was indeed a shadowy humanoid figure in there, upright with hands uplifted, though he couldn't make out details. "There's somebody in there all right. Odd, though, if it's Technoid, he's detached that big weapons port on his right arm; I'd be able to see it."

Bazooka swore softly. "Damn, I miss Mike." Jon nodded glumly. "Yeah. He'd pick up the image from my mind and contact him telepathically. No way we can talk to him."

Bill asked, "You're our tech guy now, I guess - unless you want to get FAQ up here?" "Oh good grief. Let's not, unless we have to." "Heh. Yeah. He's way too cocky for me to feel safe with him messing around with explosives. So, any way you can defuse the thing, or turn it off?" "Haven't the faintest idea, to be honest. I suppose I could try towing it into space, but it'd be really dangerous. I'd have to do it really fast, for one thing, and it'd put Scott's life in danger." "As opposed to millions in danger if it explodes?" "True..." "Could you get it through the roof?" Photon looked up. "That's the tricky part, yes. Especially since I have no idea where that ceiling leads to, come to think - probably not to the roof of the base. Could be Bermuda, for all I know. Or another planet. Or even the floor we're standing on!" Bazooka snorted, "It just gets more fun by the minute, doesn't it?"

He punched his hand in frustration. "Dammit, this is the last straw! First Mike and James abandon us, and now this!" "Abandon?! What are you saying?!"

"They didn't leave us a message, they just skipped out!" "You know them better than that! Heck, I know them better than that, and you've known them longer than I have!" "You don't go running off to another dimension without telling the team!" "If they did it, they had a good reason. You know that! They'll tell us all about it when they get back!"

Bill said harshly, "They aren't coming back, Jon." "What?!" "If they were going to, they would have by now." "Well, why wouldn't they?" "Maybe they're dead."

It was the first time anyone had said it out loud. Bill paused, wincing, then forced himself to continue, "Or maybe imprisoned. Maybe off saving the multiverse, for all I know. Maybe Erebus found something better and they didn't bother to let us know." "Bill, you know that's not true." "Yeah."

After an awkward pause, Jon asked quietly, "Is there any way I can convince you guys to stay here in Seattle? It's too big for me and Beta. You said it yourself - I'm green." Bill sighed. "How long have you been with us, Jon? A year?" "About that." "Five years I've fought at their side. Five years! All of our tactics are designed around Mike and James' intel. I feel like I'm missing my left arm out there, and both eyes!" Jon admitted, "We're a reconnaissance-based team." "You know it. And nobody does recon like the Phantom and Erebus. If I hadn't seen it myself, over and over, I'd never believe it."

Quietly, Jon said, "They're the heart of the team." Bill shook his head sadly. "Mike was. Erebus was many things... Don't get me wrong, there's nobody I'd rather have at my side or at my back in a fight. But he wasn't a heart."

The remnant of Shadow-Force pondered the truth of that. Jon asked, "Is that why you're really leaving? Too many memories around here?" Bill looked away, face twisting, and Liz said quietly, "That's part of it."

Bill finally said, "The other part... You know when Liz and I were ambushed on patrol a couple weeks ago?" "Yeah - it sounded like you didn't have much trouble with it." "Luckily, we didn't. But if they'd been just a little smarter, we might both be dead. It never would've happened at all before." "How will that be any different in Phoenix?" "There's fewer people there that want us dead? We've made a lot of enemies in Seattle, Jon." Photon sighed, nodding. "Occupational hazard, I'm afraid."

"So it's settled. We'll stay here a few more days, to see if Scott comes out of that thing. But we are leaving." Jon nodded, swallowing hard. "...You've done this longer than I have. How can I handle this place on my own?" Bazooka said gruffly, "Form your own tactics, design them around what you can do. Don't show all your cards - keep some of your capabilities quiet until they're really needed. Make connections - God knows Mike's charm got us out of nearly as much trouble as his powers did."

Jon nodded again, slowly, his eyes filling up. "I'll miss you guys. If... Well. If I need help... will you come?" Bill looked at his feet; Liz spoke for the two of them. "If we can, Jon, yes. Of course we will." [Of course, they all knew that Brimstone's teleport range wasn't nearly up to travelling the distance from Phoenix to Seattle....] Bazooka added, "It's not like you'll be all alone, either. Chameleon contacted me, and he's stuck in Texas - family stuff, he said - but Mystra is still in town."

Liz sniffed. "She's a total flake." "She's been useful in the past." "She's a flake and a flirt!" "I never looked at her!" Photon carefully did not get between the two of them.

As they trooped back to the Situation Room, Jon changed the subject hesitantly, "What I can't figure out is this... Shortly before they disappeared, Mike developed the ability to stay active in his physical body while his Phantom-form was projected. Yet there he is on life support in the vault, out like a light." Bazooka sighed. "For that matter, he should be able to just switch off his projection and pop back into his body instantly. I've seen him do it, lots of times." "Maybe it works differently when his astral form is in another dimension?" "Beats me. For that matter, I can't imagine anyone or anything preventing James from fighting his way out of the Shadow Realm. Home turf advantage, and all that - not to mention that he was the meanest son of a bitch I've ever fought alongside."

On that cheery note, they parted. Shortly after, Jon got a call he'd been dreading - a summons of the remainder of Shadow-Force to Carlton Industries. The company owned by Jessica's father.

Soon he and Beta were ensconced in an imposing office. Malcolm Carlton surveyed them impassively for a time. "Only the two of you, eh? More's the pity. Any word on the missing?"

"No, sir," Jon said quietly, "There's been no word at all." "I suppose I owe you an apology on behalf of the family. While I obviously wasn't in control of my daughter's actions at the time, I'm told she did you serious injury." "She wasn't in her right mind, sir. And I recovered fine." "Glad to hear it. All the same, I am sorry." "Accepted." "Good. Now, to business. What's going on with Technoid? I hear he's been erratic lately, and the electric bill for the base has gone up sharply." Sweating, Jon broke the news about Technoid's lab.

Carlton's eyes widened and he drummed his fingers on the desk. "A miniaturized fusion reactor, you say? My, my. Hmm. What would happen if we disconnected it to take a better look?" "The base would blow up, along with a five block radius around it, minimum." The man scowled, slapping his palm down. "I dislike being blackmailed. Whether consciously or not, he's assuming I'm going to just keep paying the bills. Unfortunately, he happens to be right." "I hear what you're saying, sir, and I understand your position... just please understand that we're not happy about it either."

"Have you had any success in forming a new team?" "Not yet, sir, no. But with the power vacuum we've left in this city, there are bound to be supervillains moving here." Carlton nodded sourly. "This guy who calls himself 'Captain Kidd', for one." "He's strictly small fry, sir." "I don't know, the Navy wants him pretty badly. He's been a serious nuisance to their shipyard in Bremerton." "True... but there'll be others in time, tougher than he is. And eventually heroes will follow them. We'll have a team here again someday."

Carlton nodded. "Photon... I'm going to have to decommission the base." Jon heaved a sigh, lowering his head into a hand. "That hurts, Mr. Carlton." "I'm sorry, son. But the place is a dangerous liability as is. There's a lot of weaponry in there, as well as plenty of other hazardous stuff - the more so with this energy thing, which we are going to keep carefully under wraps. The Phantom and Erebus had the reputation to make most people think three times before attacking; Bazooka and Brimstone have enough rep to give them pause. No offense, but you and Beta don't. And I can't justify upkeep on the place for just the two of you, either."

Photon waited for Alpha to speak up through Beta's voice; when he didn't, he asked, "What about Alpha?" With a sigh, the old man said, "We'll pay to help him get situated. And if he wants a job, he's got it. For that matter, so do you." Carlton paused, then added ruefully, "I realize you've probably had your fill of people telling you, 'We'd love to help, but.' I'm sorry I can't give you what you want, but I really do want to do what I can." "I've got sufficient work, thank you." "The offer's open."

Jon then asked, "And what about the Phantom's physical body?" Carlton's brows furrowed. "What...about it?" "He's still on life support in the base's vault." "Huh. I... never thought about the Phantom's body. Don't think I ever saw it. Well. We'll definitely move him to a safe place and do everything we can for him. God knows I owe him." "All of Seattle does, sir." "True, but I mean personally." [Speaking as the Phantom's player, I was mystified by this until I recalled just now a time that the Phantom saved Jessica's life.]

"Will you let me know where you put him, sir? I would like to visit him now and then." "Haven't worked it out yet, but when we do we'll let you know. Keep it quiet." "Of course."

Carlton came to a decision. "I can do this much for you, Photon. I won't tear the base down. And if you do manage to form a viable team, it's yours." "Thank you, Mr. Carlton. That means a lot." "My door is open. Make an appointment first, though."

Flying back to the base, Photon asked Alpha over his communicator, "How much of the stuff in the base can we take away?" Alpha snorted. "I know where everything is, down to the last detail. I've got plans laid." "Alpha... How much of the stuff belongs to us?" "Well, if you put it that way... OK, OK. Not as much as I'd like. But a lot of it was made by Technoid, and in the absence of a will or other legal instrument, I think we can conclude it belongs to us more than anyone else. It was made for the sake of the team, after all, and certainly he and I worked together closely on lots of it."

"Fair enough. ... Are you going to take that job offer?" "I don't need the money... But we do need the connections. I think I will." "Where are you going to go?" "I've examined the possibility of relocating outside Seattle..." Jon gasped, "Don't tell me you two are leaving too!" "...But I've concluded that's a suboptimal course of action. For one thing, unlike some people I think the Phantom and Erebus are coming back. We're staying."

Jon took a deep breath, let it out, then pointed to the Greek letter on his chest and joked with gallows humor, "Maybe I should change my codename to Gamma to fit in around here." Alpha laughed. "Good one. Oh - by the way, the mail came in. There's a letter for you." "For me?! From who?" "Doesn't say." "What's the return address?" "Rome, Italy looks like." "Rome?! Curiouser and curiouser..."

Arriving back at the base, Photon examined the letter, postmarked a couple days before his news conference. "Rome. Weird." He opened it, to find in elegant handwriting:

The Letter said:

Dear Photon,

I hope you checked this letter for traps.

Click to expand...

"CRAP!" "What?!" "The first sentence says, 'I hope you checked this letter for traps!'" "Er. Does Beta need to get you to the infirmary?" "Dunno, let me read the rest!"

The Letter said:

Now that I've got you in the right frame of mind, this is Forestrike. I assure you that I am not in the location this letter was postmarked or addressed from. Did you notice the difference?

Click to expand...

"It's Forestrike!" The Phantom's old enemy, wily even in defeat. Alpha groaned. "HIM again!" Jon examined the letter again - sure enough, the postmark was from London, not Rome. Reading aloud now, he continued:

Forestrike said:

Although we've never met, I'm sure you've heard a great deal about me. I have certainly heard much about you. Did you listen to the Phantom's stories about me? You won't have the chance to do that again for a long time. As for your technically-minded associate, I hope you don't have a future need to repair X-97 - either one of them; he is no longer your friend.

Click to expand...

"Heard a great deal about me? Flattering, I suppose, but how? And how would he know about you, Alpha?" "Beats me! And dang, but precognitives are so SMUG!" [Actually, I said that out of character. But it's too darn appropriate not to have someone say it. ]

There followed without fanfare a number of prophecies:

Forestrike said:

You should open letters more carefully.

I recommend against Whispering to the knife.

Beware of Tezcatlipoca.

Please don't pull the plug, any of them.

Nephrite is beautiful and worthless; and faithless.

When the Door is open, only the Dead can close it; from the other side.

I have lied to you once.

You will need to save the world.

No pressure,

Forestrike

Click to expand...

"'I have lied to you once'? What the heck?" "He's playing with you. He and the Phantom were always playing mental chess against each other, on at least five different boards at once. Apparently, he's decided you're to fill Mike's shoes."

With dripping sarcasm, "Wow, I feel so honored." "Probably you should. Think about it."

"Yeah... I guess. And there's one bit of good news in this." "Oh?"

"He said I won't get to hear stories from the Phantom for a long time. That implies Mike is alive, and that he's coming back someday." "Hmm. Unless he lied about that - but no, that wouldn't make much sense. Of course, precognition isn't perfect."

"Still, this is hope, whether he meant it that way or not. We need hope." "That we do."

[I'm kicking myself. When Bazooka asked why he shouldn't shoot the energy construct, I really, really should have said, "It would be bad." ]

2 - Bolt From the Blue

[Another RP-heavy session, but with some action at the end. Enjoy!]

Jon stood in the base's vault, looking down at the Phantom's still form. The IV had been replaced by a feeding tube, but other than that he looked the same as ever - peacefully asleep, breathing smooth and gentle. He looked as if he might open those piercing blue eyes of his and quirk a smile up at him at any second. A variety of emotions fluttered their way through Jon's soul. "You always knew what to do. Always had a plan. Hard to believe we're the same age - you've done so much more than me. Come back to us, Mike." There was, of course, no response. Jon sighed and trudged up the stairs.

Saturday in the base, and he was trying not to mope while he waited on Bazooka and Brimstone. It wasn't working. The media had not been kind to him in the days since the news conference. He'd expected it from the Post-Intelligencer, which had never really taken him seriously; but the Times had usually cut him some slack. And the letter columns everywhere had been freaking out over Shadow-Force's dissolution. The kindest letter he'd seen had said, "We Seattlites have been spoiled in the super-team department the last fifteen years. Now we're back roughly to where we were before the Freedom Squad was formed. We should be grateful to still have one veteran hero patrolling the streets." (The veteran in question being Beta, of course...)

"Any changes, Alpha?" "I would have told you if there were." "Yeah." After another moody silence, Jon said, "You know, I've been wondering." "Yes?"

"What did Jessica do in between shooting me and leaving? I mean, it wouldn't make sense to shoot me if all she wanted to do was leave." "She ran to the Trophy Room and grabbed a disenchanted knife." "Huh? Disenchanted?" "Mystra assured us it had been." "Whose knife was that? Wait, I guess it wouldn't be Diabolus, I don't recall him using a knife... Ugh, that demonologist guy? Before my time?" "Seth-Amon, yes." "Wait, you mean the knife he used to, well, sacrifice people? Yuck!" "We prevented him from using it for that purpose, but yes." "What would she want with that thing? And how would she even think of it?" "I have no idea."

Jon sighed, dismissing the problem. "How're the plans coming for moving our stuff?" "I have narrowed it down to two or three options." "It'll probably take a month or so for Carlton to pull together their plans for this place, I'm guessing?" "Probably more like six weeks. I plan to be moved out at least fourteen days before then." "And Mike?" "I would imagine he will be moved relatively soon."

Jon changed the subject yet again. "I'm getting a lot better with my light-form." "That should be useful." "Not as much as you might think. Check it out." He shimmered, winking out for a moment and reappearing. "I've just patrolled the entire city. There's no crime going on - right this second."

"Ah. But you have no guarantee there won't be something a minute from now." "Exactly. Plus, when I do things this way, people don't see me flying around. They need to see their heroes." "That sounds accurate."

Jon frowned. "You sound a little 'off' today, Alpha. How're you holding up?" "I am an artificial intelligence. I am... fine." "Wait... Please don't be offended by this question." When there was no response, Jon asked hesitantly, "Are you saying you just fake emotions for the sake of humans?" "No. I am saying that I can suppress emotions that prove inconvenient." Jon sighed deeply. "Must be nice." "Yes."

"What about Beta? Is he OK?" "Beta's programming is not sophisticated enough to support complex emotions. He is fine." "Huh. That's a weird thought."

Alpha changed the subject smoothly. "We have received a letter from Shift, applying for membership on the team." "Shift?" "He applied for membership in the reserve team about the same time you did. He was rejected." "Well, that doesn't sound too encouraging." "It wasn't. We still have the tapes on file, if you wish." "Well, let's take a look..."

[The following is actually a vignette the GM got inspired to write up before the game. I think he really nailed Erebus' smartass attitude, and the Phantom's long-suffering tact. Naturally, from the security video Photon will only be able to see and hear what would be outwardly obvious. The events on tape would be a little more than a year old: ]

The Security Video said:

"I'm sorry, but until you have better control of your powers, you will be in serious danger in a super combat."

"But...", the girl started.

"No. I can't, in good conscience, accept you as a reserve member with your current power set." The ghostly voice was firm, but regretful. "I don't want to have to inform your family that someone like Crosshair killed you."

"Even dead, I'd give him good odds against you." The larger man's voice was quiet and cold.

"Fine!" The young women the media dubbed 'Bubbles' jumped up. Turning, she stalked toward the door. The pair of heroes watched her leave, one darkly impassive, the other radiating a faint aura of compassion.

The Phantom sent to her, When you have better control, there is a place here for you. He observed wryly to himself, that the control needed was both of her powers and her emotions.

"Alpha, is that all of them?"

"There is one more." Despite being generated from a computer and broadcast through a small speaker, the voice clearly conveyed dubiousness.

"Send them in."

A few seconds later, a slender male figure trotted in. He was of average height and not very muscled. The rather ugly iridescent mask he wore drew the observer’s eye from his costume. Reviewing the surveillance footage later, the members of Shadow-Force noted it was a simple turtleneck and jeans, both black.

"Name and powers?" Erebus was getting impatient and started in with the questioning.

"I am The Mask!" His voice was slightly distorted by the named garb. Even so, both veterans wondered about the tone change. The Phantom wondered if he was still going through puberty. Erebus' thoughts, as always, were private.

"No. The Mask is a superhero on the East Coast. Furthermore, he is the third of that name. You will not gain any friends using that name." Erebus stated firmly.

"Um, OK, I can call myself Phase, 'cause I phase through stuff."

"I don't think that would be a good idea, either. Phaze is a rather nasty villain, who might just decide to kill you to keep his name exclusive," The Phantom recommended. Stretching his senses out, the ghostly hero noted that the as-yet-unnamed applicant had a good mental shield; probably from the mask.

"Oh." A pause, then, "How about Shift. Anyone got that?"

"No one by that name rates any news." Erebus then added, sotto voce, "Still."

Ignoring his companion's snarky comment, The Phantom started in again, "What are your powers? And how old are you?"

"I can phase through stuff."

"How old are you?"

Before Shift could answer, Erebus cut in with, "And?"

"And what?"

"What else can you do? Can you carry things into phase with you? Can you touch normal things while phased? Can you attack someone while phased? Do you have any other powers? Can you attack someone while in a normal state?" Erebus asked the questions quickly, not giving Shift much time to answer verbally.

The young applicant nodded to the second question, but shook his head to the next three. The last question got an indignant, "Hey! I've been studying Karate for a year now."

The older man, a victor of many brawls with super-powered foes, was temporarily bested by the sheer hubris of Shift.

Hoping to avoid an unpleasant confrontation between the two, The Phantom interjected, "How old are you?"

"Eighteen!"

Erebus voiced his skepticism, "Uh-huh."

Watching Shift's body language, The Phantom decided to divert the conversation again, before an argument broke out. "Please demonstrate your power."

Shift concentrated for a second. In the corner of his vision, The Phantom saw Erebus wince. He agreed with the unspoken evaluation. Any competent villain would strike while Shift was activating his phase power.

Once he completed the activation, Shift proved that, yes, he could pass through any physical object without effect. After the demonstration, The Phantom requested Shift deactivate his powers. When he did so, the young man let out a grunt and bent slightly over.

"Are you all right?" The Phantom asked, concerned.

"Yeah", came the pained response. "It always hurts a bit when I come back to normal."

Erebus stated, "Your application has been rejected. Right now, you would be a liability to any group." While far more harsh then he would have said it, the psionic could not bring himself to disagree.

"Hey old man, I bet within a year, I could be totally kicking your butt."

Blinking several times, Erebus finally said, "Excuse me." He quickly got up and, with skilled grace of a martial artist, left the room. Closing the door did not completely suppress the derisive laughter that followed him.

Jerk. I'll bet he left just to make me end the interview, the remaining super thought to himself as he turned to the task of more politely declining Shift's application.

Click to expand...

When the tape had finished playing, Jon said incredulously, "He actually SAID that? To EREBUS?" "Yes." "Wow. So much ego, for so little cause." "Yes. He does not seem likely to be useful." "You can say that again."

Alpha repeated obediently, "He does not seem likely to be useful." Jon paused, a little creeped out by that response. "Um, Alpha? Could you put a few more cycles into this conversation, please?" "As you wish." "What sort of contact info did he leave?" "A cell phone number." Jon face-palmed. "You have GOT to be kidding me." "No." "Even I know better than that."

"You surely don't actually plan to call him." "Actually, yes, I do. I mean, sure, he's an arrogant kid... But like Bill said, I need to make connections. I have to start somewhere, and who knows, he might be useful someday." "I think you are being far too optimistic." "You're probably right, but it costs me almost nothing to talk to him. Think of it as a long-shot investment."

Alpha stated, "You can handle anything that comes up without him." "Why do you say that?" "Because I wish you to feel confident."

Jon was about to be creeped out all over again, when he caught the note of dry humor in Alpha's voice. He laughed despite himself and shook a fist fondly at Alpha's nearest camera. "Jerk. Anyway, dial the number if you would."

Soon there came a teenage voice over Alpha's speaker, "Hi, this is Steve." Jon said sweetly, "Oh, really? I was calling for Shift." "Oh, uh, just a second. He's not here right now." Click.

Jon chuckled. "Who's the phone registered to?" "Heh. A David Fitzpatrick." "So... Steven Fitzpatrick. What can you tell me?" "What do you want to know?" "How old is he?" "Eighteen. Just graduated from high school." "Oh, so he isn't underage after all - this year." "Nope." "Is he enrolled in college?" "Not that I can tell." "How'd he do in school?" "Grades were... mediocre." "Any sports?" "None of record."

"Sounds like a real winner... I guess I'm supposed to call back?" "If you insist." This time the phone was answered by a deeper voice - doubtless muffled somewhat by the mask. "Hi. I'm calling myself Mirror Mask now, I decided 'Shift' was pretty dumb." "All right... Mirror Mask. This is Photon." "Oh - the guy who got my job." "...I beg your pardon?" "They picked you instead of me." "...So they did. Anyway..." "I can't figure out why they took you over me. I mean, I wouldn't get myself shot like that." Jon gritted his teeth and bit back a retort - someday, someday, he would live down his first day as a hero.

Mirror Mask said, "So when do I start?" "Start what?" "I assume I've got the job." "It isn't a 'job'. We don't get paid a salary." "Well, I mean, I assume I'm on the team." "Actually, I wanted to meet with you to discuss it further. That's by no means a foregone conclusion." "What, so you're in charge now?" "Basically, yes." "That sucks. Well, let's get it out of the way. How about eight o'clock?" Photon kept his cool with difficulty. Since he was expecting Bazooka and Brimstone at 7, he said, "Six thirty would work better." "Oh. Just a second, let me check..." Alpha to Jon: "Five bucks says he's asking his parents." "No bet."

"OK, six-thirty is fine." "See you then." Alpha ended the call and asked, "Why are you doing this to yourself?" "Well... Like I said, we need to make connections. If I can't put up with an annoying kid, I'm not going to get very far in that department." "Oh, I get it. It's like the psychological equivalent of plunging your fists into hot oil to get ninja super-powers, or whatever." "...If you say so. Besides, he might yet be useful someday. Beggars can't be choosers." "Hope really does spring eternal, I see."

A little while later, Mirror Mask swaggered into the base as if he owned it. He was a bit taller than he'd been last year, but had the same nondescript build. Also the same garish, iridescent, dully-reflective mask - a disturbing, almost demonic visage twisted into a grimace. The thing was so grotesque it distracted from the simple black turtleneck and jeans he wore. Photon invited him to sit. "Good to meet you, Steve." "...Who's Steve?" "You are, I would think. That's how you answered your cell phone." "Oh. I, uh, gave you my buddy's number. He's the one who answered the phone the first time." "Ah. I see."

The young man, eager to change the subject, looked around and said, "Cool place. When do I move in?" "I beg your pardon? We don't live in the base." Mirror Mask seemed genuinely surprised. "Really? Why not?" "We have jobs and families to attend to." And lives, Jon forebore from saying. "Well, yeah, but isn't it cooler to hang out here?" Photon didn't even bother dignifying that with a response. Instead, he asked brightly, "So, how old are you now?" "Almost 20." Jon sent to Alpha via radio, At least he's consistent in his lies. "Are you in college?" "Nah." "Planning to enroll?" "Not right now. Don't have the money." "Taken any more karate?" "No. I, uh, haven't managed to." Translation: Mom and Dad wouldn't pay for it any more. Alpha just snrked over the airwaves.

"Have your powers developed any since we interviewed you last year?" Mirror Mask puffed up his chest. "Yeah! I'm super-strong now!" "Really." "Yeah, I can pick up guys of any size." "So, we're talking maybe 250 pounds then?" "Yeah, about that." Photon said skeptically, "I don't know that I would exactly call that 'super'-strength. There are weightlifters who..." "With one hand!" "Ah." "I'll prove it!" The lad did indeed manage to pick up a large desk with only a grunt of effort. Given his build, it did seem likely he'd need powers of some sort to do it, but...

Photon asked, "How did you find out you can pick up people in particular?" "Oh, well, when I'm fighting guys, you know? I can even throw them!" "So you've been fighting crime on your own, then." "Sure! That's what superheroes do!" "Do you have any particular defenses against attack?" "I dodge and get out of the way!" "I see. Well, fighting supervillains isn't quite the same as fighting street toughs with knives and guns..." "Just knives so far, nobody's really shot at me yet." "Being shot at is a totally different thing," Photon warned him, "It's no laughing matter." "I guess you'd know, right? Sheesh, I can't believe they picked you."

Jon gritted his teeth and managed to say pleasantly, "Well, they did. What are you going to do when supervillains fire energy blasts at you?" "Like I said, dodge out of the way. How hard can it be?" "Harder than you think," Photon told him. Mirror Mask stood up. "Well, you fire blasts, right? Gimme your best shot!" Photon hesitated, knowing he could aim literally at the speed of light; Mask for his part saw fit to add, "Wimp!"

Manfully resisting the urge to punch a laser through the boy's torso, Photon let loose a low-wattage beam. Mirror Mask dodged, but still ended up with an inch-wide smoking hole in his turtleneck with angry red skin showing through. "OK, so you got me. Stings a little. But it's not so bad. I'm tough!" "That was a low-power blast." "Oh, c'mon. How bad can it be?"

"Pretty bad... Steve." "Stop calling me that!" "I don't like being lied to." "Whattaya mean?" "I know you're not 20." "Never said I was!" "Fine. I know you're not 19, either. You realize that when you called me with a cell phone, you handed me your name and address on a platter." After a pause, "I told you - it's my buddy." "Oh, I see. You give out your buddy's number so that when supervillains track it down, they kill your buddy instead of you. Your buddy who doesn't even have superpowers to protect himself." "Um."

Photon rose to his feet and said with dignity, "Well, it's been... interesting... talking with you, Mirror Mask." "So when do I start?" "If I feel I have need of your abilities, I'll be sure to let you know." "What, so you're not taking me?" "Not at this time, no." That set off a further storm of snarky protest, but Photon finally got him out the door. "OK, Alpha. I admit it. You were right. It did cost me something: Elevated blood pressure." Alpha said philosophically, "Hot oil hurts too. Soon, Grasshopper, you'll be tough enough to deal with the Silver Paladin." "Golly. Is he really that bad?" "Worse. His greatest power is super-annoyance."

Jon rolled his eyes and said, "Well... Beta and I had better map out a patrol plan." "He's still recharging. Wait until after Bazooka and Brimstone say goodbye?" "OK. ... It's not just our dear friend Steve, you know. I assume you've read the papers." "Yeah. That can't have been fun." "Nope."

Soon Bill and Liz arrived, popping in with the familiar smell of sulfur. After the initial greetings were out of the way, Jon told them, "You'd probably better see this." He handed Forestrike's letter to Brimstone. She raised an eyebrow, groaning at Forestrike's name. "It's your favorite person, honey." Bazooka took a look too. "Terrific. Jon, listen, if those three come to town, lie low. You're no match for them." Jon caught himself about to bridle (feeling uncomfortably like Mirror Mask) but only said, "I'll definitely bear that in mind."

Liz shook her head. "Not likely they will... Forestrike knows his limitations, and he also knows that he's classified as a terrorist now. He won't risk anything. Still... I'll be sure to set up a series of teleport coordinates on the way down to Phoenix." Bill asked Jon, "I suppose you just opened the letter right up, like he says?" "...Yes." The older man snorted. "Erebus would tear you a new one. That was pretty dumb."

Jon gritted out, "I wasn't exactly privy to the usual mail-opening procedure." (He'd never really received any mail, fan or otherwise.) Bill said coldly, "Erebus would've said it was common sense, and rapped you on the head." Jon took a breath, let it out. "I'll be more careful next time." Liz shot Bill a warning glance. "Well, the good news is that Forestrike is still making himself useful. Enjoying himself in the process, of course, but useful." Bazooka agreed, "He's never lied. His letters to the Phantom have always been on the level."

Jon: "Bill, he says straight up he lied to me once." "Oh, I don't doubt that at least one of his predictions is obscure to the point of near-uselessness. But it wouldn't give him the proper jollies to flat-out lie. It's too easy; he wants to demonstrate how clever he is." Liz nodded. "His last letter to Mike was in Shakespearean blank verse, and full of anagrams and acrostics. The one before that was in cipher." Jon pondered that, wheels turning. "Hmmm. Thanks, that actually does help. You know, there's one other thing in that letter that bothers me." "What's that?" Liz asked.

"That last line. 'You will need to save the world.' He doesn't say 'You will save the world,' or 'You need to save the world', or 'You must save the world.' He says, 'You will need to save the world.' It almost makes it sound as if I will need to save the world... in order to do something else." Bazooka groaned. "It makes my head hurt just thinking about it."

The talk turned to other subjects, reminiscing about the past, remembering old friends, especially those missing. Finally, the time came to say goodbye. Liz embraced Jon, getting a little teary-eyed. Bill shook his hand and gripped his shoulder, wishing him luck. With that, they were gone.

Jon sat for a long time, staring at his hands. Finally he said, "Alpha?" "Yes?" "If I start acting like I need to prove something to somebody, please give me a verbal slap upside the head." "OK, I think I can do that." "...Because it's really, really tempting right now." "That's very understandable, given the circumstances." "Yeah."

Jon then called, "Beta? Are you charged up?" "Not fully, but I am functional." "OK. Let's get to work." Spreading out maps of the Seattle area, they started dividing it up into patrol areas and shifts. Jon lost himself in the problem, forgetting his worries for a little while. Beta didn't have a job, wasn't bothered by the day/night cycle, and didn't need to recharge for as long as Jon needed sleep, so that made it easier to come up with a two-person plan than would otherwise have been the case. Still, it was a huge undertaking. Alpha requested that certain areas, where he anticipated Beta's charging station might be set up in the future, be left to his brother.

When they finally finished, Jon yawned. "Where does one go to apply for higher super-registration, anyway?" Alpha responded, "U.S. Marshal's office. Why, you planning to sign on the dotted line?" "Yeah. I don't see any reason why not. The Guardians already know my secret identity; at that rate the government might as well too." "You'll need to get the second level first - it's required to go in sequence." "That's fine. Maybe second will be good enough for what I need to do; we'll see. Good night, Alpha." "'Night."

On Monday, Jon threw himself into his teaching and research. Somehow he found it harder to lose himself in the wilds of loop quantum gravity than usual... He was dreading being out there alone and mostly without backup. He picked up a registration application in heroic identity (that caused a bit of a stir) and over the next few days touched base with a number of the Phantom's contacts on the police force. They were polite and friendly... but he could tell they didn't really take him seriously. As far as they were concerned, he was a fresh-faced rookie about to get himself killed. Doesn't anybody remember I've been doing this for a year? he thought. I've fought Diabolus himself! And Red Dragon! But always as just one face in a crowd.

By Wednesday evening, he was in a mood dark as the rainy night he flew through. He broke up some criminal activity just by shining a spotlight on people who didn't realize they were being observed; where necessary he broke things up with a volley of precisely-aimed laser beams or stunning jolts of electricity. Dull, really. On the one occasion somebody shot at him, his new dodge subroutine worked perfectly - his light-form activated for a sliver of a second, moving him several feet out of the line of fire at the ultimate speed. A bit of applied magnetism deprived the guy of his gun, and that was that.

Suddenly an enormous bolt of lightning streaked through the sky, striking the Space Needle in the distance. Jon flew over to see if it had been damaged. As he hovered there, his field sense went wild! An arc of lightning streaked toward him; his countermeasures subroutine dissipated most of its energy harmlessly before it got close, and then the dodge subroutine got him clear of the remainder. Even so, his left arm and side went all tingly. "Yipe!" Following the bolt's path with eyes and field sense to the ground, he caught sight of a garishly-clad fellow surrounded with a potent electrical field. Why do so few villains have any fashion-sense, he wondered? Is there some correlation between color-blindness and social maladjustment?

"Ha! Welcome to your DOOM, Photon!" Yep, villain. Photon sighed and said to himself, "Spider-Man would have something witty to say about now..." But nothing came to mind, so he just fired off a laser. It hit, of course - not many people can dodge faster than light - but did only superficial damage to the man's costume, improving it slightly.

They traded a couple more shots - the bad guy's went wide. Jon tried to find an opportunity to shift his attention to his invisibility sequence, but the guy wasn't giving him the chance. The villain declaimed, "Once I have destroyed Seattle's most notable remaining hero, this city will fall to its KNEES before me!" Most notable?! Does this guy read the papers? "Yeah, good luck with that, Sparky!" Hey, that's not bad.

"You face BOLT, do-gooder!" A particularly large bolt of lighting came Photon's way, but this time both his subroutines worked flawlessly. "Whatever, Sparky. Ooooh. Ow ow ow. Except so totally not. My turn!" This time he fired actinic brilliance at Bolt's eyes. The villain yelped in fear and staggered back toward a support pillar of the Space Needle, seeking shelter.

Photon quickly checked that he was out of communicator range, and took the opportunity to amp up his radio transmission to make up the deficit: Alpha, I'm facing an electricity-using villain by the Needle. Tell Beta... Wait, Beta was vulnerable to electricity. Tell him to standby. Notify the cops, and do whatever else is traditional - I'm busy. Alpha's digital voice as usual had a strange radio timbre: On it, Photon.

Jon didn't feel entirely comfortable zapping Bolt while the guy couldn't even see, but all's fair in love and war. He was about to switch over to his stun-zap, but remembered just in time that Bolt was probably immune. Lasers it is, then. He even angled them so as to knock the guy back into the support pillar he was next to. (Though he usually generated beams to appear from his hands, he really didn't need to do so - all positions and angles were equally easy.) "So how's that falling-to-its-knees thing working out for you, Sparky? Ready to give up?" "NEVER!" the man roared, shaking his head to clear it and diving behind the pillar.

Photon's field sense went into the red, then calmed down. He flew cautiously around the pillar, a laser routine primed to go, but Bolt was... gone. "Great! He teleported." Just then he had to dodge another lightning bolt from the open sky. "And he doesn't need to generate blasts from his hands either. Terrific. Well, two can play that game..." Photon concentrated for a moment, and willed himself into light-form.

As always, the world slowed to a stop as he rushed forward at the universe's maximum speed limit; everything was actinic blue, shifted toward the violet. Why can I see at all, he thought, that should be physically impossible. Oh well, I can. For now I've got Bolt to worry about...

Doing a spiral search pattern (creating and destroying microscopic black holes with half-conscious flickers of thought to change his direction when necessary) he quickly found Bolt in glowing blue still-life atop a nearby building. His costume looks so much better this way... Oh well. He spent a few subjective minutes deciding on the exactly-right spot to rematerialize, and even devoted a moment's thought to a witty remark while streaking circles around the man, but honestly that seemed a little petty.

Regaining solidity behind the villain, he said, "Surprise!" Bolt whirled, too slow. "Get ready to kneel, Pho-" Jon's laser caught him right in the face. Bolt went down writhing in pain, screaming about his eyes.

Jon winced. I hadn't meant to do that. He said quietly, "You're not in charge here, Bolt." He used a stunning jolt on the man to mercifully put him out before remembering that it used electricity... Bolt got back up. "Actually, that was quite a nice charge! Thanks!" Photon resisted the urge to face-palm; he's not only immune, he's an absorber! Two points for the snappy comeback, too.

Still, Bolt hadn't healed nearly enough. Another couple zaps and he went down for the count. Jon hovered there almost in disbelief, only lightly singed on his own part. "I did it. I really did it!" Sending via radio waves, Alpha, I did it! Congratulations, Photon! Welcome to the big leagues. Guide me to the nearest precinct, would you? Sure thing!

The desk sergeant perked up at the sight of Photon's burden. "Oho! That Bolt fellow who skipped bail in the Big Apple, is it?" "He's a New York villain?" "Sure is, the FBI and the BSA circulated bulletins about him. You'll be glad to know we can lock him up on plenty of stuff from back east." [Jon couldn't testify in court as "Photon", so unless there were any witnesses to the battle, Bolt would walk for the stuff he did that night. Of course, once Jon's new registration goes through, that'll be another story. Oh, and the BSA is the Bureau of Superhuman Affairs.]

"Huh. Why on earth would he come all the way out here to the West Coast?" The man's voice got harder. "The vultures are starting to circle." Jon nodded somberly. "Well, this one didn't find any meat, anyway." "That he didn't. Thanks to you, Photon." Jon walked out, chin held high. It was a warm flight home, despite the rain.

The next day, Jon found that a few people had indeed witnessed the fight; it made page 3 in both the big papers. The Post-Intelligencer couldn't resist a touch of snark about his youth and inexperience, but even they had to admit he'd done his job. The Times was more neutral, stating the facts as they stood. Over the next few days, the cops let Photon know that Bolt had spilled his guts - swearing revenge on him, the usual - and was being shipped off to Stronghold. (Apparently, he'd believed a New York villain could take out any hero from a hick town.)

Brimstone called the next day to get the details and congratulate him on his first solo super-battle. That pleased him more than anything else. Jon leaned back in his office chair, feeling fine.

No need to get cocky, Jonathan Winters, he chided himself. All the same, you did pretty good. "Thanks, guys," he said the uncountable photons streaming through the air around him, and they actually 'blushed' - redshifting to surround him with a warm, rosy glow. If the fabric of spacetime could purr, it would be purring, Jon felt.

"Awww. The universe likes me. Who cares what some newspaper thinks, anyway?"

[Jon has historically been more inclined to Blue-Boy-Scoutish dialogue like "Halt, evil-doer!" or "Crime does not pay!" than Spidey-like snark... but what can I say, he was in a MOOD that night. I think this sort of thing will definitely become part of his style.]

Photon's Origin and Previous Exploits

[Here's what I wrote up on Photon before the game started. Everything here is a recap of what actually went down in the original campaign, barring a few cosmetic changes, up to the point where he got shot by Jessica. (That bit really did happen, but everything after it is new.)]

Jonathan Winters leaned back in his office chair. Life was good. He had his dream job: Professor of theoretical physics, and at a strikingly young age. Challenging research in loop quantum gravity. (String theory, he liked to say, was "Brilliant, beautiful, and wrong".) Students who were sometimes exasperating but on the whole rewarding to teach. (Dr. Winters was a mildly popular physics lecturer at UW.)

He gazed out the tentative spring sunshine, both admiring its beauty and wondering, as ever, just how it worked. He let his mind run idly, as it often did, over Einstein's thought experiments, trying to imagine what life would look like from a photon's point of view... The universe frozen in time, all space compressed into a point of blazing light. To a photon, everything really was one.

Going deeper, he pressed his imagination to incorporate his insights into the shifting loops of spacetime he studied. The lonely, microcosmic photons refracted into each other, overlapping and dancing...

For just a second, something broke in Jon's mind, and he GOT it. For an instant he saw how it all worked; the true universe in all its silent splendor. The moment faded as quickly as it came, and Jon knew that he'd spend the rest of his life trying to capture that vision in inadequate equations. A deep joy bubbled up in him and he laughed aloud, reaching for his computer to try with happy futility to record the vision in mathematical terms.

After several hours of work, the sun shifted onto his screen, blinding him with its glare. He reached over absentmindedly to pull the blind, when suddenly the sun went out. Blinking, he looked over in shock. The sun was shining, yes, but very dimly. He stood up in alarm, and the effect vanished; the sun was bright as ever. He sat back down limply; dim again.

At this point, he got suspicious and started moving a pencil around, watching its shadow. Sure enough, there was a place where the shadow just plain veered off in an impossible direction - as if the light were being diverted somehow. While he was pondering this miracle, there came a knock at the door. "Dr. Winters?" Jon, sighed, recognizing the voice - a student who was hopelessly behind and couldn't seem to grasp that you couldn't do well in physics without knowing algebra. The door opened, and the hapless young man looked right at him. "Huh. And it's his office hour, too."

Jon was about to call after him, puzzled, when he noticed his hand fading back into visibility. Shaking, he experimented further.

He could create and banish light at will. He could cause it to flow around his body, rendering himself invisible. With some mental effort, he could make a laser beam. That was crazy enough, but then he had a weird idea and tried to imagine a mechanism for seeing in the infrared - and could. Or through walls. Somehow, the photons were responding to his will.

Thankfully, he had no more classes that day. He developed a feel for what he was doing. It was as if subatomic reality had gotten to know him, just as he'd gotten to know it, and decided it liked him. If he could imagine something for light (and to a lesser degree, other subatomic particles) to do in enough physical detail, generally it would happen. The feel of it was somewhere halfway between making a friend and programming a computer - the spacetime continuum was very literal-minded, if eager to please.

What to do with this amazing ability? Write a paper? Back it up with proof? Wouldn't Jenkins over at Princeton turn green with envy! But no. There were better uses for such power as this. Jon thought inevitably of his other childhood love, after mathematics: Comic books.

With great power came great responsibility. He could use this power to help people. And Seattle had only recently gained a hero team of its own - Shadow Force. They'd put out a call for heroes to join them a few months back, and Jon had followed their exploits with interest and a certain guilty pleasure. The names rolled off his tongue: The Phantom. Erebus. Technoid. X-97. Bazooka. Brimstone. Why not... Photon?

He closed his eyes and imagined a suitable costume: Gold and white with red accents, and a flowing red cape. On the chest the Feynman diagram for a photon - a wavy line and the Greek letter 'gamma'. No spandex please, he didn't exactly have bulging thews, something more comfortable... When he opened his eyes, he wasn't too surprised to find himself wearing it, and laughed aloud for sheer pleasure.

The next day he walked to the Shadow Force base. On the way he discovered he could fly.

----------------

The Phantom and Erebus were perplexed by him. He had power, all right - and he seemed to get better as they watched - but he was hopelessly idealistic and green as sprouting grass. They came up with the idea of matching him with some other newbie heroes in the area and calling them the 'reserve team'.

Photon got an object lesson his very first day, getting sprayed with machine gun fire while trying to stop a bank robbery. (Memorable quote: "Evildoers, you face Photon!" "Photon, meet M16.") Turned out his 'force field' hadn't been as well-tuned against physical objects as he'd thought... this would take work. (After he got out of the hospital, of course...)

He found his feet as a hero some months later, when the Guardians put out a quiet call for supers with backgrounds in theoretical physics. Volunteering, he found that scientists in certain disciplines were being kidnapped by a group calling themselves the Covenant, and put himself on the line to be next. Spirited away to a base in the South Pacific and made to work on villainous projects, Jon was instrumental in bringing the place down, and without compromising his secret identity. (Save to a fellow kidnap victim, a Korean mathematician named Kim Hei Ryung. Memorable quotes: "Who do you think you are, one of those weirdos in tights?" "Um." Later, when in danger with her: "You know how you asked me if I was one of those weirdos in tights?" "Yeah?" "Well, I, uh... am." *flies her past danger*)

The seasoned heroes of Shadow-Force tacitly accepted him as one of their own after that, and he played a minor but important role in two of their biggest battles - against the evil archmage Diabolus and against the criminal mutant mastermind Red Dragon - as well as a number of lesser ones. (Funny quote: "Wow! He must couple with the virtual gluon field to do that!" Erebus: "SHUT UP AND SHOOT HIM!"

Jon is very shy and socially awkward. (He's been dating Hei off and on - she's been transferred into the area - but of course she had to ask him out.) His Photon identity is a way for him to let a more flamboyant (and, let it be said, a bit pompous) side out. He continues to develop his power, and there does not seem to be any maximum limit... He appears to be limited only by his imagination and his will.

Being struck by Jessica's darkbolt wrought a change in Jon's powers, a sudden deepening. He had long been able to take on a form of pure light, travelling at c. But suddenly he found that he could control it to a much greater extent - he could change direction, for example (creating and destroying microscopic black holes in order to do so!), and even turn it on for only tiny slivers of a second. What's more, he could "edit" his human form back to health while immersed in the cosmos. Bullets don't concern him much any more - he can dodge out of the way literally at the speed of light, and heal any damage rapidly even if one should hit.

Going it alone in Seattle, with Beta and whoever else might turn up, terrifies Jon. He's no tactician like Erebus, no planner and schmoozer like the Phantom. Despite his fear, though, he's determined to make it work. Where will it all lead?

Jon's Backstory

[The previous post was what I knew about Photon long before the current game started. Here's some stuff on his past, that I wrote up recently. (He'd always been a supporting character, so I never came up with a detailed backstory until recently.) I've snipped a few hook suggestions that the GM may or may not do anything with.]

Jon was born into an upper-middle class family in Oklahoma, the Clarks (Jack and Patricia). Things were pretty good for him in his early years; he read voraciously and began to show signs of a formidable intellect. But when he was seven years old, his parents experimented with cocaine and became hardcore addicts. Things rapidly spiralled down into a nightmare; his parents got more and more involved in illegality, losing most of their money.

The life of the family finally unravelled with both his parents were imprisoned for drug dealing and manufacture. Jon, along with his sister Cindy (three years younger) and brother Jason (five years younger), were placed in foster care. He was nine years old at the time.

Already traumatized by his parents' spectacular fall, Jon only withdrew into himself more as he bounced from one foster home to another. On a couple occasions where no foster family was available, he even spent short stints in a juvey facility, even though he'd done nothing wrong. (I regret to say that this actually happens to such kids.) The foster parents he stayed with varied from decent to uncaring to mildly abusive (mostly verbally), though most were better than his birth parents. He didn't see his siblings much.

Luckily, he finally found a stable home with the Winters, a kindly blue-collar couple (Tom and Alice) who adopted him when he was thirteen. Though he was too intelligent to have done less than adequately in school up to that point, he soon began to leave every school curriculum within reach in the dust. He skipped a grade, then another. Already alienated from his peers, this did nothing to endear him further.

The Winters family had one natural child, a daughter named Michelle who was a year younger than Jon. There were also a few other adopted foster kids - Dustin, a sullenly angry youth a couple years older; Karen, a quiet girl the same age; and Barry, a painfully hyperactive boy a couple years younger. (Barry and Karen were already there when Jon arrived; Dustin came shortly after.) Jon also saw Cindy and Jason once or twice a year.

The family was loving, though definitely not without frictions and even tragedy. Dustin resented Jon's academic success as he resented just about everything else; in his late teens he had several brushes with the law (assault charges) though he has since straightened out and is being groomed to take over Tom's general-contractor business.

Barry (who is black) was friendly to all when he could stop bouncing off the walls. His infectious friendliness has served him in good stead as a salesman; after Jon, he is the most financially successful of the family, and probably the happiest.

Michelle oscillated between phases of resenting her brothers and appreciating them. (One of the few things the three young men could agree upon was to protect her fiercely from all comers. Though Jon, for his part, wasn't much of a threat to bullies, he spoke up for her and used a needle wit on her behalf at times.) She and Karen were quite close, though, bosom companions. Michelle is now happily married and a housewife with kids.

Karen sank deeper and deeper into depression despite the Winters' best efforts and committed suicide at the age of sixteen. This tragic event drew the makeshift family together and welded them into one.

None of the Winters know about Jon's powers, and he has no intention of telling them. Dustin, in particular, might find this "unfairness" to be the last straw. (Though in fairness to him, he's grown a lot. Perhaps it wouldn't matter as much to him as Jon fears.)

As for Jon's biological siblings, Cindy and Jason, they have both turned to petty crime (drugs, mostly) and are both in prison - Cindy in Oklahoma and Jason in Colorado. Jon visits them when he can, though they have little to say to each other.

Jon did his undergraduate work in physics at CalTech on a full-ride scholarship, and got his doctorate from the University of Michigan. His dissertation on loop quantum gravity made a major splash in the literature, and got him lucrative job offers from a number of universities. He settled down as a full professor at the University of Washington in Seattle at the tender age of 22. (He is now 25 years old.)

Jon does volunteer work in Seattle youth shelters and juvenile facilities. Though he's very awkward and shy, he's also sincere and has been through the same wringer they have; some kids warm up to him. Others have tried to scam him, but he's not easy to fool.

Shadow-Force Files

Setting info can now be found here. Enjoy!

I've also posted the link at the top of the thread.

3 - Stone of Night

[Good news! We got our game on Wednesday, so I'll put up another old session a bit early.]

[A new update with plenty of action! Also an introduction to Jon's workplace. I'll be putting up a post on the NPC's there soon.]

Photon spent an uneventful couple weeks dealing with the usual two-bit hoods, spiced up with the occasional thug upjumped with a bit of super-weaponry - nothing he couldn't handle.

During this time he admitted to Alpha, "My conscience is bugging me about Mirror Mask." "Wow, you ARE a glutton for punishment." Jon sighed. "He isn't even registered, which means the cops are going to be after him before long. He's going to get himself killed, or else land in jail for a really long time. He's just a kid. I should have said something." "Bluntly put, he's a dumb kid. There isn't much you can do to protect him from himself." "Yeah, but what I can do, I should. Call Steve's number again, will you?" "I salute you, sir. You are a braver and better man than I." "Man?" "OK, sophont, happy now?"

The call was made. When Jon said, "I'd like to speak to Mirror Mask, please," the boy's voice betrayed distinct nervousness. "Uh, yeah, I'll get him on the line. Wait a minute." Soon the teen hero's arrogant voice asked, "So you changed your mind and want me now, huh?" Maybe they really weren't the same person after all. "No. I just wanted to remind you that legal crimefighting requires registration with the government. The fighting you described yourself as doing at our last meeting will get you in very serious trouble with the police if you don't register." The boy blustered at him extensively, but Jon, reading between the lines, gathered that he might well actually follow through. (Admitting as much to an 'old' authority figure was out of the question, of course.) Jon, encouraged, also advised, "You might want to look into some body armor as well," but that suggestion got completely blown off. After a thoroughly exasperating conversation, Jon finally hung up with a sigh. "How annoying." "Hot-" "Oil. Yeah, sensei, I know."

Alpha changed the subject. "Lots of traffic about you on the 'Net lately." "I've seen some. Most of the Shadow-Force sites are writing me up more extensively. I try not to think about it." "Yeah, but I thought you'd like to know some of the wider-circulation stuff is kind of encouraging." "Oh?" "Yeah, you're picking up cred on some of the super-buzz blogs. They, uh, didn't expect you to last this long." "...I suppose you could call that encouraging." "Bit of a debate on your fight with Bolt on a forum, too." "You're kidding! That was a page 3 local story on a slow news day!"

"Trust me, Photon, these guys will dissect anything. They're obsessed." "True... What're they debating?" "Some are reassessing their opinion of you. I mean, sure, Bolt has never remotely been an A-list villain, but the eyewitness accounts suggest you more or less curbstomped him." "And the others?" "They say it's just a matter of rock-paper-scissors. Right powers for the job." Jon shrugged. "They're both right, really. Bolt would've had a hard time hurting me with his power suite." [The GM forgot how Half-Effect Immunity worked. He'd intended Bolt to be a challenging but beatable opponent, but Photon's half-Immunity to electricity was more powerful than he'd thought.] "Still, a reputation is a handy thing at times." "Sure, but let's face it, mine has nowhere to go but up. I imagine I'm still in the top five on the 'Most Embarrassing First Outing' list?" Alpha sighed. "Yeah. Not likely to budge any time soon, either." Jon shrugged helplessly. "It's the Internet. Best not to get too worked up either way. Thanks for the heads-up, though." "Free o' charge."

Heading in to work, Jon ducked his head in his RA's office and greeted Gerhard. "Hey Jerry, where's Hu?" "Hey. He won't be in today. Called and said he wasn't feeling well." "All right. How's that Calabi-Yau simulation coming along?" "Bit of a bear, but I'll have it for you next week." "Great."

Jon went out to lunch with his friend and colleague Karen, who warned him straight-up, "I'll be terrible company today. I'm really stressed out." "No Great Debate today, eh?" "String theory vs. your pipe-dream can wait. It's Jim I'm worried about." Karen's fourteen year old son. "I'm listening." It developed that Jim was being furtive and less communicative and more surly than usual. "I'm worried he's doing drugs or something, but I don't know what to do." "Well, does Stan see the same behavior when Jim's over there?" That set her off on a rant about her drunken, good-for-nothing ex-husband, which Jon waited through patiently.

On his way out after lunch, he noticed Gerhard's girlfriend Melissa at a nearby table, scribbling furiously on a pad. Come to think, he'd noticed her out of the corner of his eye on the way here too. "Hi, Melissa. How's it going?" The young woman started as if given a shock. "Oh! Uh, hi, Dr. Winters." "Sorry to startle you." "No... no, it's OK. I'm just... taking notes for a paper." "In shorthand?" "Sure! Keeps me in practice. Uh, how's Jerry doing?" "He's fine. Hard at work on a computer simulation for me." "That's good. That's... good. Oh, look at the time! I should be going." Jon stared after her as she hurried out. "Huh." He put it out of his mind and returned to his research.

------------------------------------------------

A few days later, Photon was doing another nighttime patrol when he heard over the police band that there was a robbery in progress at the Museum of History and Industry. He started heading over there when he heard 'Code 999' invoked. Superhuman involvement. Jon's heart beat a little faster and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I can do this," he told himself, and informed Alpha of the situation. [He didn't inform the cops he was coming, as at his registration level he's a civilian. Technically they could charge him with obstruction of a police investigation if they were feeling mean.] Where's Beta? A few minutes away, and he's busy. Got it.

Arriving at the museum, there were multiple cop cars with lights flashing and lots of cops with guns out. Also a couple ambulances further off, with a number of people on stretchers. Photon studied the situation and alighted next to the guy who looked to be in charge.

The man whirled on him with his gun, then relaxed at the last second. "...Sorry. Bad day." "I hear that. Any way I can help, officer?" The man nodded and stuck out his hand. "Lieutenant Sherman. Actually, yes. We think we know who's in there, but if we're right, getting him out is going to be a bitch." Photon shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant. Who?" "Enigma. The MO fits - glowing runes and all that. He's already paralyzed several of my men. Nothing lethal yet, though." Photon nodded grimly - Enigma was a slippery one, he'd managed to get away from the Phantom and Erebus on a memorable night. "Well, for starters, I can scope the situation for you - confirm it's him and if there's any hostages or the like." "Go for it. We need all the info we can get." "Coming up..."

Photon winked out, then streaked at the speed of light up the steps leading to the main entrance. Should only take a microsecond at most...

...Or not. He got a rude surprise, abruptly shifting back to human form and landing heavily on the stone steps before he could react, getting the wind knocked out of him. He scrambled to his feet desperately and dove out of line of sight from the door. There he crouched under a window, trying to breathe, when he realized he could still hear radio. He sent on the police band, Apologies for interrupting, but this is Photon. I've hit a snag, at least some of my powers have been drained. There was a momentary silence over the band, then someone offered, "Getting the Lieutenant on the line." Sherman then said, "Photon, you need us to get you out of there?" Photon: Not yet, hold tight. Then, on Alpha's frequency, What's Beta's ETA? He's on his way. Call it two minutes. Got it.

Just then a cultured, faintly Germanic voice called from the shadows beyond the museum's entrance. "Photon, is that you?" Feigning nonchalance, the hero replied, "Hey Enigma, been a while. How's it going?" while also saying on the police band, It's Enigma all right. "You'll be very proud of me, I think. Here I've gone and adopted the scientific method. I'm doing a field test on a new piece of equipment." "Hey, that's great. Next thing you know, you'll be on the cover of Popular Pseudo-Science." Enigma didn't dignify that with a retort. "Hiding, are we?" "Just being prudent. I notice you're staying back in the shadows yourself."

"That's because I'm not particularly fond of being shot at. Let's cut to the chase, shall we? You've lost your powers, haven't you?" "Maybe, maybe not. You be the judge." In fact, Jon was frantically testing his powers as he bantered with the man. He couldn't generate visible light of any kind, or turn invisible, or see through the museum's wall. He couldn't take light-form - his dodge subroutine was not just offline, it was just plain gone. Countermeasures was still up, though. He could still fly (that was based on gravitics), could hear and send radio, and he could make sparks jump between his fingers and generate infrared. Nothing to test magnetism on, but the result seemed clear: It was a themed suppression against powers based on "light" as commonly thought of, not electromagnetic radiation as such. It's magic, Jon thought, it doesn't have to make sense.

"Come, come. You'd have charged in here by now if you still had them. My hypothesis was correct." "That always gives a guy a warm fuzzy feeling, doesn't it?" "And if you're counting on your robotic friend, let's just say I have a surprise in mind for him as well." "Well, shucky-darns, you just think of everything, don't you?" Jon was rapidly considering his options as he spoke. Without my light-form dodging, I'm a sitting duck - a guy in a sedentary profession with minimal combat training. I'm gonna have to hit him hard and keep him off-balance. He thinks I'm helpless, so that'll help...

"I do try. And so adieu for now, hero. I trust you won't be giving me much grief in the future." Jon said, "You know, you're absolutely right." Enigma paused. "...I am?" Photon burst into motion, flying around the corner, frantically spying out the man and unleashing a stunning wave of electricity. Enigma flinched as it ripped through his body, and Jon told him, "Sure. No reason for me to give you grief once you're back in Stronghold."

As supervillains went, Enigma was a snappy dresser; he sported a sweepy midnight-blue robe and cowl, with various enchanted ornaments about his person. The sorcerer rattled off a brief incantation and gestured peremptorily with a wooden wand, flaring a rune into being; flames engulfed Jon but his countermeasures dissipated the worst of it. Photon replied with a straight-up lightning bolt with enough crackling power behind it to do Bolt proud, but one of the mage's amulets lit up and absorbed the bolt into itself. "You're a man of unexpected depths, Photon. This might turn out to be an interesting day after all."

"Oh, I hope so. Wouldn't want you to perish of ennui. Don't worry, you'll soon be having those stimulating prison conversations again." They traded a couple more shots, Jon switching back to his stun-zap as it seemed to be working better. Enigma ducked behind a massive wooden cabinet with metal fittings, starting in on an ominous-sounding chant; Photon grinned tightly to himself as he used magnetic fields to tip it over on the guy.

That got a definite reaction, a pained angry yelp. There came a flare of red light, and the cabinet flew off Enigma and toward Photon, but luckily the electromagnetic hero was able to dodge out of the way at an unlikely angle. Thank goodness my flight still works!

Enigma picked himself up painfully off the floor, too enraged to speak. He snarled out an incantation and made a slashing gesture with his hand - a wave of magical force took the life momentarily from Photon's limbs. Limping toward him, Enigma grabbed him by the throat and shoved him against a wall, still incoherent with rage. Photon did the only thing he could think of - he shot Enigma in the back with a lightning bolt out of thin air.

The wizard groaned in agony and released Photon, limping toward a passage going deeper into the museum. "It would seem the Stone of Night is more limited than I had thought. I will think well on this." Photon pulled himself together and gave pursuit, following Enigma into an area devoted to pre-Columbian history. Several display cases had been jimmied open and rummaged through; Enigma was pocketing a carved lump of obsidian when Jon entered. In his other hand he held an intricate crystalline device that looked to be Atlantean, though Jon couldn't imagine it belonging to the museum.

The two duelled in silence now, too worn out with their struggle to waste breath on words save for exclamations of pain or effort or, in Enigma's case, whispered phrases of magical power. Photon tried changing up his attacks, throwing a searing blast of heat into the mix, but still seemed to get the best results from his stun-zap so he pressed it mercilessly.

Finally Enigma said shakily, "Well, Photon, it's been fun, but I should be going. Another day, yes?" Jon wheezed out, "Aw, must you? Always a pleasure." He tried to stun the guy again, getting a groan out of him, but the mage's spell still succeeded. On a deep instinctive level, Jon to his surprise felt the fabric of spacetime wrenched apart as Enigma teleported out.

Photon felt his powers return at once. He stood there quaking for a moment with pain and the sudden aftermath of adrenaline, then fled into the welcoming arms of his light-form. 'Editing' his body back to full health in a frozen instant, he took the opportunity to survey the museum carefully before notifying the cops. Enigma had rummaged through several display cases; they were in such disarray that it was hard to tell what was missing. He had taken at least three objects: The piece of obsidian, a stone axe, and a brooch made of lapis lazuli. Pity we didn't fight in the Industry portion of the museum, Jon mused to himself, there would've been a lot of opportunities there.

Reforming outside the museum, Jon let the cops know what had happened. After an intensive debriefing, they asked him to get out of the way of their work, so he flew off. [SP had to use GM Fiat twice to keep Enigma from being knocked unconscious, and I had to spend a hero point once to do the same. I also surged once during the fight and did an instant counter. Hard fought!]

----------------------

After a sound night's sleep and a good day's work, Jon found both major papers had written up the fight, and both reasonably well. [SP: "The P-I doesn't think much of you, but they're not so blatant as to run 'Threat or Menace?' headlines." ] The cops Jon had worked with spoke well of him, in particular. Alpha let him know a reporter had called wanting an interview with him. "Who's he with?" "Nobody. He's a freelancer, name of Chris Perkins." "What's he want to talk about?" "The fight with Enigma, he says." "Wow, pretty fast." "Yeah, sounds like he also wants to do a general piece on Shadow-Force and, well, you know." "Yeah. ... Well, tell him I'll meet him in the park tomorrow at, oh, 5 PM." "You're on."

That night's patrol was uneventful, and Photon met the man on schedule the next day. After the usual pleasantries and puff questions, the guy got down to business: "How do you feel about the breakup of Shadow-Force?"

Jon replied forthrightly, "It's a painful thing. When you work closely with people, putting your life on the line with them, you develop a bond fast. I was only part of the team for a year, but we're close." "Do you feel betrayed by your teammates?" "No, not at all. Bazooka and Brimstone are good friends, and leaving was their call to make. I wish them the best."

Perkins then slipped in the hot question: "What about Technoid? What is his status currently?" Jon hesitated just a moment, then said, "Technoid has effectively retired from the hero business." He couldn't keep a trace of bitterness out of his voice, and Perkins jumped on it: "What exactly do you mean by 'effectively' retired?" "I've said all I'm going to say on that topic. It's his story to tell." "Very well."

To his credit, Perkins actually dropped the matter, moving into more recent events: "Tell me about your fight with Enigma two days ago." Photon said, "I had a healthy respect for him going in; I knew he'd managed to give the Phantom and Erebus the slip previously. And he did manage to catch me by surprise early in our fight, but I was able to adapt. It was a hard-fought battle; he did manage to escape but I don't think he'll feel inclined to brag about it. He was in a pretty bad way when he teleported out."

Perkins asked further questions to draw him out, but Jon was careful not to reveal too much about his powers and capabilities. No sense advertising to every villain who reads the papers...

The next day, the story appeared in the Post-Intelligencer. It has been carefully edited to make him look like a wishy-washy incompetent buffoon. (The piece also appeared, relatively uncut and positive, in an Olympia newspaper.) Jon stated to Alpha, seething, "I assume you've read the papers." "Yeah. Uh. I mean no offense, but you might want to study some of the Phantom's interviews." "I'll consider that. When I'm not furious." "Good call." "I keep reminding myself that it's not Perkins' fault, he didn't edit it. But dangit, he must've known what they'd do." "Let it go, Jon. Some days you get the bear, some days the bear gets you. Even Mike had bad press days." "Yeah."

Alpha paused uncomfortably. "Uh, there's a Captain Struthers from the cops on the phone wanting to talk to you. He's the guy in charge of liasing with capes. And he sounds upset. This a bad time?" Jon took a deep breath, let it out. "Put him on the line."

The man jumped in without pleasantries. "I've got three of my men in the hospital with runes all over their bodies. They won't do or say anything except, 'Photon, I want to talk to you.' You got any ideas about this?" Photon sighed. "Enigma. Sounds like he's sending me a message in his own special way." "And my men have to suffer for it, huh?" "I'll see what I can do for them, Captain. I'm sorry your men were involved in this. Give me a minute?"

To Alpha, "Do we have any way to contact Mystra?" "Yeah, she left us an enchanted signaling device. It's a glorified stick; you basically have to break it." "Where is it?" Hunting through the confusion of stuff packed up for moving, Jon finally dug up the stick and broke it without further ceremony.

He felt a mental presence, and a voice in his head saying, "Yeah?" "Uh, hi. This is Photon." "This isn't the best time, man. I'm on my vision quest and the juices are flowin'." "Yes, well, I'm very sorry to bother you, but Enigma's cursed some people again." He explained the situation. "Far out! But no worries, man, it'll wear off in a few days. That's the downside to Enigma's shtick." "All the same, I think it would be greatly appreciated if you could dispel it now."

After a little more buttering up, Mystra heaved a martyred sigh. "All right, all right." POOF! There she was. Jon called the Captain back, and he met them at the hospital. After a curt admonition to the captain to "chill out" Mystra examined the three men. "Looks simple enough." Photon asked, "Any way you can trace it back to Enigma?" She shook her head. "Nah. That's the benefit of his brand of magic - his runes have no connection to him once they're active." A few short spells later, and the three policemen were fine. "Try some paint thinner next time, all right? Sheesh!" Photon told her, "Thank you so much, Mystra. Oh, and here," he handed her the broken stick, "I imagine you'll want to re-enchant this." Mystra accepted it. "Sure, man. I'll get it back to you in a few days." "Thanks." "...Might be a week or two, actually." "Whenever you have time." "Yeah, no rush, right? Stay cool!" She poofed out again and Captain Struthers rolled his eyes. "I suppose I should be glad she didn't call me a 'pig'. That got old forty years ago."

Photon laughed. "I imagine it would have. Now... I need to figure out how to handle Enigma." "What're you going to do? He hasn't left a return address, and I don't care to see any more of my men used as game pieces." "I intend to do a little skywriting, if the city won't mind." Struthers blinked. "I suppose that'll work. If anyone tries to give you trouble for it, they'll answer to me. It won't be permanent or anything?" "No. My thanks, Captain."

Returning to the base, he placed a call to Moke. Explaining his situation, he said, "Can you give me any backup?" Portland's hero of the common man pondered. "Silver Siren can be there in an hour; the rest of us would have to wait until morning. That good enough?" "Siren's the one I was hoping for, in fact. She's got just the power I need." "She'll be on her way."

By that time it was 3 PM. Jon spent the next hour with Alpha poring over maps, picking a suitably isolated spot out of town. (Unfortunately, meeting him at the base was out of the question - most of the defense grid had already been taken offline. Laid out by Erebus and designed by Technoid, the base was a veritable killing field when it was active.) [I vividly recall the GM, and everyone else, staring wide-eyed at Erebus' player as he explained his detailed defense plans. They were... breathtakingly ruthless. ] Then they tossed ideas around about how to give Enigma the message without attracting every reporter, thrillseeker, and curious bystander in the Sea-Tac area. Finally Jon flew high into the sky and grimly projected the following message in towering letters of golden light:

ENIGMA: SO TALK. MEET ME AT 6 PM 9.6 MILES SSE OF YOUR 2ND MESSAGE.

Silver Siren arrived by 4, and Jon briefed her quickly. "Your specialty is sound, right? Have you got something that'll let me project my voice to emerge from a hologram?" Siren snapped her fingers. "That easy." "Great! This should be an interesting conversation."

Flying to the distant meadow with Beta and the armored heroine, they began preparing feverishly. Beta was set up in a suitable hiding spot, and Siren quickly kludged up a little ventriloquism device for Jon. He produced a hologram of himself, turned invisible, and practiced making it move and talk convincingly with Siren's advice and help.

Unfortunately, Enigma teleported in at 5:30. Siren cursed and dove for cover, but was spotted. "Tsk, tsk," the sorcerous villain chided, "Setting up an ambush? I'm disappointed in you, Photon." Jon had the hologram fold its arms. "Says the guy who uses innocent people to send his messages." Enigma paused, and said with some indignation, "Innocent? They took Caesar's salt, they swore the sacramentum - they are anything but innocent." Taking another step forward, smiling and collected once more, the wizard asked, "Do I need to explain the historical reference?" "You may consider me to be sufficiently educated to get it, thanks."

Enigma changed the subject, stepping a little closer again. "The electricity was unexpected. How did you work it, anyway?" Photon advised him, "Crack a physics book sometime. You'll find it educational." "Oh, no doubt. But I've come prepared this time - I've brought a charm against lightning. Do you think you can still take me?" "Only one way to find out, don't you think?" "Oh, indeed. ... Pity Erebus isn't around any more. I'd intended the Stone of Night to be my trump card against him." Now that he was within twenty-five feet or so of the hologram, it faded out. Jon, speaking from his real location above and behind Enigma, said, "And it looks like you just lost your bid!" He shot the mage in the back with a blast of numbing cold.

Enigma gasped in pain and amazement and whirled, searching the sky. With genuine admiration, he said, "An illusion! And a good one, too! Oh, Photon, if you weren't so much the scientist, that creativity would be the making of a master wizard." He didn't let his compliment stop him from firing a livid green curse at the spot he'd last heard Photon's voice from, though.

Jon evaded it easily - sniping from outside the range of the Stone of Night, he could take light-form freely. "Hey thanks! It's always nice being complimented by supervillains." After firing off another cold blast, he added, "I mean, you guys should really be able to judge, right? You get beat up by heroes so often, you must be regular connoisseurs of beatdowns."

By this time, Beta and Siren were flying to join battle. Enigma snarled and said, "You haven't beaten me yet!" He held up the Atlantean device that Jon had seen before; it was whirring and chiming, then suddenly emitted a sweet PING!

The effect was instantaneous: Beta crashed to the ground and lay still. Siren for her part cursed as her suit malfunctioned and likewise was dumped on the ground. Photon used magnetism to cushion their falls, and Enigma used the opportunity to take cover in heavy brush.

Photon climbed, surveying the situation as the mage cast spells at him. What would Erebus do? ...Oh. When you put it that way, the answer was obvious. Jon grimly set the brush on fire, ready to contain it in case it spread. [SP: "Nice!"] There came a frightened yelp, and the flames suddenly died out; Photon used the time to configure a radar sense. The brush was confusing, but he could see well enough to target. The cold seemed to be working well, so he stuck with it.

Enigma was having a hard time hitting the invisible Photon, though he did manage to connect with a hungry green bolt that left Jon shaking and nerveless for a time. Finally the wizard said, "Enough of this! Let's see how much you care for your fair companion!" He started casting at the fallen Silver Siren, who was still trying to reboot her armor. Photon taunted him, "Hey Mr. Honorable, shooting at a defenseless woman?" He pressed the attack hard as he saw the mage getting desperate; he trusted Siren's armor.

Enigma sneered, "She put the costume on, knowing what it meant. She's fair game." He stamped his foot, uttering a hideous word; a glowing rune sank into the earth, and a fissure spread rapidly through the ground toward Siren. Photon shot him once more, earning a taunting, "Ruthless. Are you sure you're a hero?" But Jon used magnetism at the last second to lift Siren out of the way of the growing crevasse, to which the mage said, "Ah, so you do care after all."

Before much longer, Enigma realized his situation was hopeless. "Well played, Photon. But we shall cross swords again, I promise you that." Jon, ready for this moment, said, "Oh, must you be going? Your prison buddies are so looking forward to seeing you again." When he felt Enigma teleporting out, he pounced mentally and tried to cajole local spacetime back into a flat configuration. For a moment, his will locked with the mage's, and he could feel his enemy flailing desperately to escape, slipping out by the skin of his teeth. [He beat my power-stunted Nullify Teleport roll by 1. Darn mages always have high Will saves.] Jon said to himself with weary satisfaction, "That'll give him something to think about." [Another fight with lots of hero points flying around. Though it sounds rather one-sided, and it was, if Enigma had managed to hit me with that Dex Drain again, it woulda been all over. Jon's Fort save is abysmal.]

He turned and helped Silver Siren to her feet, then rebooted Beta, who seemed even less personable than usual: "System reboot: Online." "Yes, Beta, you were 'knocked out' by a spell." "Query: What is local time?" Jon and Siren shrugged. "About five forty, maybe 5:45?" "Observation: That time measurement is too imprecise." "Well, it's the best we can do until we get back to the city." "Suggestion: We should move to a secure location." "Agreed." Siren asked, "Does this 'secure location' have tools? I need to recalibrate my armor." "Uh, yeah, Technoid's tools should still be around." Jon carefully did not mention Technoid's current status. "Perfect. Let's go."

After Alpha had eased Beta back into a more presentable frame of mind and Siren had adjusted her armor to her satisfaction, she said to Jon, "I can see we're going to have to get people up here to help you out. No offense; you're clearly good. Hell, given that you fought Enigma off at a severe disadvantage earlier, I'd say you're very good. But this city is too much for a single guy." "Don't I know it. I'd definitely appreciate any help you guys can give." "I'll talk to Moke. But when Enigma shows up again, you probably don't want me or FAQ - that tech-suppression trick he's got is brutal. I'd suggest Thunderwing - Enigma doesn't seem equipped to handle somebody right up in his business." "Sounds about right. I look forward to working with you guys!" "The feeling's mutual! Your versatility could come in really handy - how do you do it, anyway?" Photon smiled. "It's a secret - and if you figure it out, let me know! All I know for sure is that it's sort of halfway between making friends with the universe and programming it like a computer. Training it like a dog might be the best analogy; a really smart, literal-minded dog." Siren stared at him. "Are you serious?" "Yeah." "...That's just bizarre. Sure you're not a wizard without realizing it?" Jon laughed. "Enigma doesn't seem to think so!" "True..." After some more chit-chat, she flew home to Portland.

-----------------------------

A few days later, after Jon had returned from patrol, Alpha noted, "Oh, by the way, Mirror Mask's registration just appeared on the BSA website." "Well, that's a relief." "I do hope you're not planning to call him again with congratulations." Jon shuddered. "Hardly. That kid is migraine-inducing."

Alpha agreed, "I can't even get migraines, but he almost makes me wish I could." Jon suggested mischievously, "And you with this pain in all the diodes down your left side..." Alpha: "Paranoid, I am. Android, I am not. But I'll play along to the extent of admitting that our dear Masked Mirror is depressingly stupid." Jon suddenly sat bolt upright. "Say that again!"

"...Our dear Masked Mirror is depressingly stupid?" "Yeah!" "You're excited about him being stupid?" "No, I just remembered something... Pull up the security video of our conversation." Alpha did so. "Yeah? What are you seeing that I'm not?" Jon studied the mask closely. "Does it look at all Central American to you?" "Maybe just a little. OH!"

Jon nodded. "Yeah. 'Tezcatlipoca' means 'Smoking Mirror' in Nahuatl." Alpha: "And that's not all. Check THIS out." He pulled up the previous video, of Mirror Mask ('Shift' at the time) being interviewed by the Phantom and Erebus, and blew up the young hero's face. "The mask has changed." Jon looked closely; it had. Where before the mask had been abstractly close to a traditional 'devilish' appearance, in the later picture the pointed chin and horns had receded somewhat, and the fangs had grown more prominent. "Oh good grief." "...I was going to say something more colorful."

"Call Steve, please." "More good news - that phone has been disconnected." "Terrific. I guess I'll have to pay him a visit in person."

People in Jon's Workplace

Here are some notable people at Jon's workplace. (Be warned that I've snipped out a number of plot-hooks for public consumption.) There is a bit of tension toward him from the math department, as the physics department managed to secure funds to hire Jon at their expense. Naturally, many people in both departments couldn't care less; Jon himself is one of these. (While too observant to be entirely oblivious to academic politics, he finds it a crashing bore.)

Jon's status and cachet only increased when he was kidnapped by the Covenant. I mean, when you're one of a select few that an international supervillainous group sees fit to kidnap to work for them on a secret island base, it has to mean SOMETHING. Already a fairly "sexy" choice as major professor due to his youth and prominence, the incident increased his desirability yet further.

Dr. Rudy Gottlieb is Jon's department head. An experimentalist in atomic physics and laser traps, Jon is his wunderkind, a plum for the department. (Filling a bit of a hole they'd had relativity-wise, too.) He is anxious for results to justify the political capital he spent to bring Jon to Seattle, but thus far has been very hands-off, fearful of bruising his genius. (The more so after the Covenant incident.)

Dr. Karen Manning is a string theorist and a friend of Jon's. They like to bicker about the relative merits of their different approaches to unified field theory over coffee. Karen is divorced and has teenage kids who are giving her grief lately; she sometimes blows off steam to Jon, who is a good listener.

It has since been established in-game that Karen's kids are Jim (14) and Julie (17). The ex is Stan, who is an alcoholic. He lives in Vancouver.

Susan Radner is a graduate student in physics; Jon is her thesis advisor. Still in the initial stages of settling on a topic, she is interested in the details of how superheroes produce energy. She is planning to ask Photon for a demonstration of his abilities under controlled conditions. Jon, of course, is doing his quiet best to dissuade her. He doesn't think it's a promising line of research, but also, of course, he wants to protect his secret identity.

Susan has a personal reason for her interest in superheroes. The Phantom and Erebus saved her from an assailant one night on what was for them a routine patrol. She has been fascinated ever since, and hopes to pump Photon a little bit about them if she can get to talk to him.

Gerhard Ehrgeiz is also a grad student, one of Jon's RA's. He is of course from Germany, and thoroughly fluent in English. Gerhard is very bright even for a physicist, and has ambition to match, always looking out for the main chance. He has hitched himself, as he sees it, to Jon's rising star.

Gerhard ("Jerry" to his English-speaking friends) has noticed over the last year that Jon sometimes slips away with a lame excuse. The really odd thing is that sometimes he seems to just... vanish. He entered a stairwell once, for example, and Gerhard went after him to ask a question... but he wasn't there. Odd, but not alarming; Jon is so "boring" otherwise that it can hardly be anything serious. (There's also the fact that excessive curiosity about his major professor's doings could damage his career.) However, he is keeping a reluctant eye out to humor his girlfriend Melissa (see below). Sure, one's career comes first, but continuing to get laid is also a priority.

Melissa Sanders is a senior in journalism. She was present once visiting Gerhard when Jon slipped away to do Photon-stuff, and found it intriguing. Pestering Gerhard with questions, she found that Jon had spent a few weeks in the hospital a year earlier, having been shot in a mugging. She has now concocted a theory that Jon is involved with drug dealing or something equally spicy, and is all afire to uncover a hot story that will look good on her resume. Thankfully, she has not yet made any connection to Photon.

Xing Hu is Jon's other RA. Ambitious in a totally different sense than Gerhard, he has some very strange and interesting ideas about furthering the field that attract Jon's attention. Though he's not quite as bright as Gerhard, Jon finds talking with him very stimulating and fruitful. (This drives Gerhard privately CRAZY. Naturally, he hasn't made his feelings obvious - it comes out as a competitive streak.) Jon's even considering him inviting him to some of his chats with Dev (see below), which if it occurs will only drive Gerhard even wilder with jealousy.

Hu is a hard, dedicated worker, and finds Gerhard's competitive attitude to be very crass. His English is not the best, though he is improving. He studiously ignores anything in Jon's behavior not relevant to his job; it would be discourteous in his view to do otherwise.

Timothy Reed is a TA for Jon's first-year physics class. Tim is earnest, a bit gawky, and quite in awe of Jon (who is, after all, only a couple years older than he is). He's considering hooking up with him as an RA once he passes his comps. He has subliminally noticed Jon's occasional disappearances, but they don't bother him any; Dr. Winters can probably walk on water, too! He's a pretty good instructor.

Thomas Nwafor is another TA of Jon's. A recently-arrived Nigerian student, Thomas (never Tom) is a thorough but exacting instructor; he is already developing a reputation as a hard grader. Also, he has a fairly thick accent.

Paul Nichols is a freshman in Jon's first-year physics class. A sullen young delinquent when Jon first came to Seattle, he's one of the kids Jon worked with who warmed up to him and confided in him. Paul turned his life around, got his GED (he's quite bright), and is now bound and determined to become an engineer. He is finding college very difficult, however, and is struggling. He's in Tim's recitation section. Paul has been a little shy about approaching Jon, unwilling to make it seem that he's sucking up and prevailing on old acquaintance. Jon has noticed him and greeted him warmly, but has also noticed Paul's reticent response. He respects this, though he's a little puzzled by it.

Dr. Ketaro Watanabi is the head of the math department, a set theorist. Though he's been in this country for decades, he hasn't so much gotten accustomed to informal, offensively familiar Americans as resigned to them. (He visits his family in Japan frequently.) A consummate office politician, Dr. Watanabi lost out recently to Gottlieb regarding funding for new faculty. While reserving the bulk of his ire for his opposite number, Watanabi's attitude of polite, exquisitely correct hostility spills over onto Jon himself as well.

Dr. Devindar (Dev) Singh Dolma is a mathematician specializing in differential geometry, with sidelines into number theory and many other things. An older man with a very quirky sense of humor, he and Jon hit it off almost at once. Dev is full of strange enthusiasms, creating mathematical "toy models" of the most bizarre things, and he values Jon's insights regarding these. (To give you an idea, for a few months last year, he was seriously (?) trying to prove the existence of God using mathematics alone.)

Here's a conversation between them that came to me of a sudden:

Jon, joking: "You mathematicians are all crazy."

Dev, apparently serious: "This is truth. Do you really think that boring ordinary sanity would help me to classify 24-dimensional polytopes?" (Dev is a frequent contributor to a website classifying n-dimensional polytopes. He does this for fun, in his spare time.)

Jon: "Hmmm. You've... got a point there. I guess it doesn't help much with mapping the linkages between loops of spacetime, either."

Dev, smiling slightly: "And now think of all the boring ordinary sane people who pay us to do these things, yes?" He taps his temple. "Crazy like a fox!"

Shadow-Force Files: Legal Status of Non-Humans

No game tonight, unfortunately - SP had a nasty week at work. Hopefully we'll make it up soon. (Wednesday is our usual gaming night, but he might be able to get something in on Friday.)

In the meantime, there's a new post over at the Shadow-Force Files thread.

If anyone reading this has any comment, I'd be interested in hearing it.

4 - Smoking Mirror

[Well, no luck on Friday, but things look good for Wednesday. Here's another entry. I'll also be putting up a file in the settings thread shortly.]

[Note that while this entry and the next describe two sessions, this first one combines part of both, to keep the adventure together. The remainder of the second session (a marathon in-person one) is its own entry. Also, there was a bit of a hiatus between the two parts of the first adventure - this entry - so I had to fill in quite a bit to make the join, and move stuff around to make it flow better. I hope this isn't too obvious.]

Photon paused before leaping into action. "Hold on. Should we get Struthers involved?" Alpha: "On what basis? You've got a hunch based on the word of a precognitive terrorist." Jon sighed. "Yeah." "Don't get me wrong, I think it's a GOOD hunch. I agree with you we've got really serious trouble by the tail here. But we can't prove anything." "And I'm a civilian, too. If I approach him the wrong way, I'll have the cops breathing down my neck for stalking. Of course, when THEY do it, it's a stakeout..." "Yeah. You'll have to be careful not to get caught." "Alpha! I'm not talking about getting caught, I'm talking about doing what's right!" "It's a joke, dude. Breathe!"

Jon punched his palm. "Do we really have to wait for him to go on a rampage before we DO anything?" "No. We just need to be clever." "Yeah. Hmm. Well, first I guess we need to figure out if he's Steve or someone else. How good are you at analyzing voices?" "Pretty good." "Still got the tapes of our phone conversations on file?" "Yep." "So, are Steve and Mirror Mask the same person?" "Sorry, I can't tell. The mask distorts his voice too much."

"OK... For now assume he isn't Steve. Who could he be? Does Steve have any brothers?" "...No brothers, but there's a cousin, Richard, at the same address." "Hmm. How old?" "Nineteen." "Ouch! I hope I didn't call him a liar when he was telling the truth. Is he in college?" "...No, but he's employed as a shift supervisor at a Taco Bell." "Got a cell phone?" "No, but he has a land-line at the Fitzpatrick home. You do realize that my finding all this stuff out isn't 100% legal, right?" Jon sighed. "He's in the phone book, right? So no real harm done." "Fair point, but the employment stuff is a little different." Jon said uncomfortably, "Well, it's public information. I'll leave his Social Security number alone if you will." "Check."

Jon paced back and forth. "While we can't rule out a friend of Steve's, Richard seems like the best candidate at the moment. ... A cousin, huh? Why is he living with his aunt and uncle?" "That'll be really difficult to track down." "I'm just thinking out loud, sheesh. Well, how can we determine whether someone is Mirror Mask or not? We need a mage. We can't contact Mystra..." "...And probably won't be able to for several weeks." "Right. So who do we know?" "Shadow-Force had good working relationships with three full-blown mages I can think of. One is on a... vision quest." Alpha's short pause there spoke volumes of skeptical contempt. He continued, "Another's definitively out of contact for now. The third..." "Dr. Miracle?" "No, he's the one out of contact. You haven't heard? The Guardians are off in another dimension again." Jon rolled his eyes. "Great. Who's left?"

"The Texas Hex, or Tex-Hex for short." "A teammate of Pecos Bill and Lone Star?" "Yeah, the Texas Legends." "Well, give them a call, please."

A recorded voice came over Alpha's speaker, "Thank you for calling the Texas Legends. If this is an emergency, press 1." Alpha added, "It's 10 PM their time." "Oh, right. Well... I guess it can wait until morning. Not sure I'll be able to sleep, though." "Sweet dreams." "...Is there any good news out there?" Alpha said brightly, "No sign of Enigma the last few days!" "You're just my regular bluebird of happiness, aren't you?" "It's a gift. When're you coming in?" "Six AM." "Gotcha."

-------------------------------

At six, the call repeated the same recording, then added, "Please stay on the line, your call is important to us. We will be with you in approximately two minutes." Three and a half minutes of Muzak later, a chipper answering-service rep asked, "Thank you for calling the Texas Legends, how may I help you?" "This is Photon up in Seattle. I need to talk to the Texas Hex." "I'm afraid this is his day off, and he really doesn't like to be interrupted. Is this an emergency?" Jon replied with a certain barbed cheerfulness, "Well, it'll probably develop into a city-destroying menace in a week or a month or so, does that count?" "Well... If it can wait a week, would it be all right if he called back tomorrow?" Jon made an incoherent sound of astonishment, and she said apologetically, "He REALLY doesn't like to be interrupted on his day off."

"OK, let me put it this way: Yes, it is an emergency." "I'll put you through," she said with a long-suffering I-tried-to-warn-you tone. After a moment, a bleary hung-over voice said, "This is th' Texas Hex. Whatta you want?" "This is Photon from what remains of Shadow-Force in Seattle." "Don't give me none of that, son. Ever'body knows that Shadow-Force is done disbanded!" His Texan accent was so thick it couldn't be cut with a knife - something more like a chainsaw would be required.

Photon explained patiently, "Yes, I'm all that's left, along with X-97 Beta." "Fahn. What's th'emergency?" "Have you ever heard of Forestrike?" "...Ain't he some sort of psi-onic feller you guys fought ever' now and then? A pre-cognitive?" "That's him. Anyway, he sends us letters now and then warning us about things to come. His latest letter warned us to beware of a villain named Tezcatlipoca..." "Hail, son, Tez-catli-poca ain't a villain, he's an Aztec gawd!" Jon contained his long-suffering sigh. "Indeed. And we've got a new hero in town now who calls himself Mirror Mask. He's got a demonic-looking mask with a mirror finish that's changing to look more Central American..." "Wall, hail, son. Stop raht there. Central Amer'can, I'll give ye that. But 'Smokin' Mirror' refers to ob-sidian, not what we'd call a mirror." "Okay... all the same, I think we've got a really dangerous situation developing here. If I'm wrong, I'd be glad to know it, but I need a mage to tell me."

After a deep sigh. "Fahn. Will it all keep from blowin' up for another day?" "I have no reason not to think so." "Then Ah'll catch a plane there tomorrah. That good enough?" "Yes. Thank you very much." "Where'll Ah meet ya, anyway?" "We're still in our base for now." "I thought it was done shut down." "It's in the process of being decommissioned, yes." "Okee. Ah think Ah'c'n find it." "I'll be glad to meet you at the airport..." "All raht. Ah'll send ye a heads-up about when Ah'm comin'. Ah think y'won't miss it ver' easy." "Sounds good, I'll see you soon." Click.

Jon sat down wearily. "Why do people have to be so difficult?" Alpha replied, "Aw, you wouldn't want to be bored by uniform helpfulness, would you?" "Yes?" "Well, you're in luck: I have a bit of good news." "Let's hear it. I could use some." "We've had an applicant to join the team. Sounds promising, too." "Hmm. Tell me more." "She's calling herself 'Flora', but she'll probably want to change it - the name's taken by a hero in Boston. First level registration, been active a couple months." "Flora? She has plant powers?" "Sounds like it. She wants to set up a meeting, and she's come up with a non-witless method to contact us. Sent us a letter with no return address, and we call to a series of public phones at a certain time each day until we get her." Jon agreed, "She's no Mirror Mask. Of course, it's awkward with Tex-Hex coming. Maybe we can get her in tonight or tomorrow morning?" "On it, boss."

Jon went in to work - that is, he flew there in light-form and reformed in an out-of-the-way spot in his civvies, then walked the rest of the way. He was working at his computer, wrapping things up to start his approaching office hour, when a small imp poofed into being next to him and piped shrilly, "Tomorrow, Flight 645, 3:20 PM! Tomorrow, Flight 645, 3:20 PM!" Before Jon could react further than dropping his jaw, it poofed out again.

A student poked his head in the door. "Hey, Dr. Winters. What was that sound?" Jon closed his mouth and said, "Uh, I clicked on a link in an email, not realizing it led to a YouTube video. Ha! Ha! Crazy things don't even make any sense half the time. What'll they think of next?" "What was it saying? Something about numbers?" Jon said brightly, "Just some math humor. Did you have a physics question?" "Oh! Right, let me get out my stuff..." Crisis averted, Jon thought, and wiped the sweat from his brow. Tex-Hex must have a sick sense of humor... that, or this was his idea of revenge.

Heading in to the base (having already informed Alpha of the message), he learned, "Flora's coming in at 7. Oh, and a package and a letter arrived for you." "A package, huh? From where?" "Some sort of foundation here in town. And the letter's from a kid, by the handwriting." "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" "If you're thinking about Forestrike's warning about mail, then yes." "Got it in one."

Between the two of them, they tested the package within an inch of its life, examining it with multiple wavelengths, X-ray vision, microscopic vision, field sense, and extensive chemical tests in Alpha's lab. The results, almost disappointingly, were uniformly negative. Ditto for the letter.

Opening the package gingerly, Jon found a box of imported chocolates and a letter from the foundation thanking him for preventing Enigma from doing more damage to the museum than he had. The chocolates proved to be non-toxic, so Jon tasted one. It was good. Finally he relaxed. "It's nice to be appreciated." "I'll bet. Dang, I'm gonna have to design myself a sense of taste one of these days." Jon clutched the box. "Hands off! It was addressed to me, chip-boy!" "Sheesh, some pal you are..." They both laughed. Alpha asked, "What about the letter?"

Jon opened it too, and his heart melted. "Awww. It's adorable!" It said in crude writing in crayon, "Dear Foton, I think yuo ar kool! BILLY" and had a misshapen drawing of Photon firing a laser beam at what appeared to be a reptilian monster. He held it up for Alpha to admire. "Mike always got gooey over those too. He was popular with the kids - friendly ghost, and all that." Photon tacked it up on the bulletin board. "Well, I should probably respond, huh?" "Oh yeah. People really remember it when they hear back from you." So Jon dictated a polite letter of thanks to the foundation, and sent Billy an autographed photo along with a brief note of encouragement.

He was in a sunny mood when 'Flora' walked in the door. She had long brown hair and was wearing a costume resembling a one-piece swimsuit, along with a three-quarters mask, gloves, and boots, all in subtly-varying shades of green. Looked to be college age or a bit older. He greeted her warmly and introduced himself (as Photon), getting her a cup of coffee as they sat down. "So tell me about yourself. What are your powers?" She replied, "I discovered about a year ago I could speed up the growth of plants - I've always had a green thumb. Since then, I've learned to animate trees and other plants and can produce toxic clouds of pollen." "Toxic how?" "Like allergies on steroids. I can give people severe coughing fits, even knock them out." "Interesting. Do you have any way of getting around?" "I can have an animated tree carry me. They can run faster than you'd think." "How fast?" "I've chased down cars before." Jon blinked. "Wow, who'd have thought it?" "I know, right? For things that spend their lives rooted in the ground, they do seem to like to stretch their limbs. ... Pardon the pun."

Jon laughed. "Well, I confess myself intrigued. I see you've been registered a couple months. How's it gone for you?" "No serious problems. I can turn my skin hard like wood - bullets don't hurt much in that state." Jon nodded. "Anything else I should know?" "Well, I can photosynthesize too. Makes a handy addition to the mask, and it lets me heal somewhat faster in sunlight.." She demonstrated, turning her skin and hair leaf-green, and Jon's heart suddenly froze with premonition. He kept it out of his eyes and voice, though, and said lightly, "I can produce sunlight if necessary." "Good to know! I don't use it much - I prefer to taste my carbohydrates! - but it's handy in a pinch."

Jon nodded. "By the way, the name 'Flora' is taken. There's a hero in Boston by that name." "Oh, drat. I was afraid of that. Well, how about 'Dryad'?" Alpha informed Jon, Hero in a small Chicago team, and Jon passed on the information. 'Flora' sighed. "I'm out of ideas for now, then. I'll have to think of something." Jon sent, You got any ideas? Alpha returned sharply, Oh, I don't know. How about... 'Jade'? You saw that too, eh? Oh yeah. 'Nephrite' suits her all too well.

Photon drummed his fingers on the table. "I think you could make a good addition to the team; I definitely think we should try some joint patrolling to see how things go. This week is likely to be crazy, I'm afraid - I'm in the middle of an investigation - but how about we pick up after it dies down?" "Sounds good! Thanks for giving me a chance!" "My pleasure. Just have a codename settled on before we start, or the press will likely pin one on you! It's never a pretty sight." "I'll do my best! See you in a week!" She bounced out of the base, looking excited.

Alpha asked bluntly, "What do you think you're doing? We were both suspicious!" Jon leaned back in his chair. "She's either on the level, or she's planning to betray us. If the former, we need her. If the latter, well, 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.'" Alpha whistled in appreciation. "Jon! You're getting devious!" "Heh. I've spent a year around the best, haven't I?" "Oh yeah. It's just... interesting."

That night's patrolling was uneventful. Jon took some time away from work the next day to turn up invisibly at the airport, at the gate Tex-Hex would be arriving at. Sure enough, a tough-looking older guy stepped off the flight wearing a duster and a wide-brimmed hat. He scanned the crowd warily, looking for all the world like he'd stepped off the set of a Western. Photon said quietly from above his left shoulder, "I'm right here." The Texas Hex abruptly whirled on him with an upraised glowing hand, silver runes flaring to life all over his duster. "Son, don't ever be sneakin' up on an old man like that." The man quieted down his costume and glared at the people staring at him until they went about their business, then strode away decisively. Jon said softly, "Serves you right for your 'heads-up'. I was at work!" "Heh heh. Ah told it to be sure to arrive when you were alone, what're you complainin' about?" "People overheard it!" "Wail, Ah can't help that, now can Ah?" He sounded entirely too smug, and Jon let it drop.

Arriving at the base (Tex proved able to fly, after touching one of the runes inscribed on his coat), Jon made him at home and added, "Tex, meet X-97 Alpha. Alpha, the Texas Hex." Alpha: "Charmed." "Heh. Not yet... Wait jest a minute. X-97 Alpha?" "That's me." Photon: "We don't talk about him much. Keep his existence under your hat, if you would." Tex: "Wail now. Mah hat is extra-special large and capacious, as you can see." He tipped it and added, "Ah can see how an AI feller could be handy to have around! But how 'bout you fill me in on this Tez-catli-poca thang?"

They showed him the security videos, and Tex got grimmer and more serious as he examined them. "Ah'll tell y'straight, Photon. Ah thought you were jumpin' at shadows. But... Y'know how they say a gunman gets an itchy trigger finger? Wail, wizards get it too. An' let me tell you, that mask done gives it to me raht proper. Ah got me a powerful feelin' there's a-gonna be killin' afore this is over." "Let's hope it doesn't come to that." "Raht. Looks like we've caught him early, though. Ah don't think he'll be bendin' anyone over an altar within the next few weeks, anyway. Give me the rest of what y'got." They did so.

"So what's th'plan?" "Well, can you scan the mask to tell what it's doing to him?" "That Ah can. But Ah'll have to get right up close-like, say fifteen feet or thereabouts." "OK. So we need to confirm that Richard is Mirror Mask, and somehow get you within range of him. ... You know, I've considered getting Struthers in on this. I mean, Mask admitted to me he'd been doing illegal vigilante work. It would give us a chance to bring him in." "Wail... I dunno there, Photon. It'd be a kinda rotten thang to do, raht? And he'd jest clam raht up." "Yeah, that's what I figured. Well, we know where Richard works, and we know Mirror Mask goes out at night to fight crime. I guess we can stake out his house. If he happens not to be Richard, we should know soon." "Sounds good t'me. We start to-naht, Ah reckon?" "Tonight, yes. What's your registration level?"

Tex replied, "Second, but Ah'm out of mah juris-diction. We'll have t'be careful not to get caught." Alpha snrked and Jon rolled his eyes. "I swear you two are in league to corrupt my morals!" Tex grinned and put his feet up. "Wail now, Ah reckon we can be nice li'l choirboys an' wait for Mirror Mask to start sharpenin' his knife, or we'c'n take a few steps afore that happens." More seriously he added, "Ah ain't sayin' the rules ain't important, Photon. But we've got the rules to preserve people's rahts, y'see? An' the way Ah figure, it's powerful hard to have your rahts more violated than havin' yer heart done cut out. If we'c'n stop that by keepin' an eye on someone's house fer a spell, Ah say no harm done. Ain't like we plan on makin' off with the silverware."

Jon sighed. "I guess you're right. But I just... don't like it." Tex nodded. "Make sure y'never do. Know what yer doin' with eyes open. But never get t'likin' it, or you maht end up joinin' those int'restin' characters in Stronghold." "Never happen. My costume's much too tasteful." Tex threw back his head and roared with laughter. "Y'never said a truer word! Most o'them villain fellers cain't figure out color co-ordi-nation to save their lives!" "What is it with all the purple, anyway?" They fell to joking and exchanging stories about supervillains they'd fought until Alpha informed them that Richard's shift was nearing an end.

They turned invisible and flew out. Jon sent, You've been awfully quiet, Alpha. What's up? Tex's presence seems to disrupt my circuits; it's unpleasant. Almost like a migraine. Yikes. Should we mention it to him? Maybe he can tone it down? I'll live. Just get Mask sorted out. Okay...

Photon: "Can you sense the mask when it's inactive?" "Nope. At any rate, I cain't sense nothin' in the house as of yet." Soon Richard arrived back home and Jon got his first look at the young man's face. Black hair, brown eyes. Confident, but not nearly so overbearing as with the mask on. Was that psychological, an effect Photon knew well from his own costume, or something more?

They waited. After several hours, Tex said, "Ah'm powerful hungry, Photon. Let's go get some grub." "You go - we might miss him." "No worries, son. Ah'll leave a magic sensor. If he puts that mask on, Ah'll know." "Well... all right." "And none o'that Micky-D's, neither!"

Photon led the way to a steakhouse, alighted, and shifted his costume back to his civilian clothes. "No harm in goin' in super, son. But jest as you like..." Tex willed the runes on his duster to quiescence and soon he was tucking into a hefty steak. "It ain't no Steak'n'Bake, that's certain, but it tain't bad atall, neither!" "Glad to hear it. You know, as long as I've got you here, do you mind if you pick your brains on another topic?" "Son, for this fahn steak, you can ask me anythin' you please!"

"I'm wondering if you can give me any advice on fighting Enigma." "Enigma... Rune-caster, ain't he?" "Yes." "Wail, y'c'n never go wrong shootin' whatever the rune's on. Done spoils the whole spell, if'n y'do it raht. Mind, if th'rune is carved into somethin', don't get fancy and try to X it out or nothin'. Don't add to the lines of the rune, is what I'm sayin', just muss it up general-like. That help?" "Yes, actually. But I've also heard multiple sources describe Enigma as a sorcerer, too - a spirit summoner. How's that fit in?"

Tex frowned. "It means he's a raht sneaky basta'd, that's what it means." "How so?" "Ah reckon he's usin' the runes for his bread and butter, y'see what I mean? But he's got what y'might call an in-surance pol'cy. He's worked out a few deals with some spirits - unpleasant ones, Ah'm guessin'." "Demons?" "It's as good a name as any, an' better'n most." "So how does that figure into my tactics?" "Wail, see, it's best for a sorcerer to take things nice an' slow, cut a deal that he's fully prepared for. Enigma might have some spells he'c'n activate through existin' deals o'that sort. But if you press him, back him into a corner, he might feel the need to make a deal quick-like - and that's never a pleasant thang. He could end up owin' a service his ownself."

Jon mused, "The last time we fought, he started to teleport out, and I tried to stop him. I don't think he knew I could do that..." "Haw! Good one!" "Anyway, I could get a sense of him through it, and he seemed... scared." Tex grinned and pounded the table with his fist. "Son, you may jest have ruined his whole week! He maht be workin' off a debt in a Hell-dimension as we speak, and it does mah heart good to hear!" "Hmm. If so, he'll come back mad, won't he?" "Mad for shore... an' scared. Mad, scared villains make mistakes. Mark mah words, Photon, if we're raht, you've put the fear o' Gawd in that scumbag."

"Let's hope he puts it to good use." "Amen and amen!" "It's good talking with you, Tex. You're much easier to deal with than Mystra." "Now Mystra, she's an odd duck." "Yeah, what's the deal with her anyway?" Tex said matter-of-factly, "Ah reckon she's made a pact with a pretty int'restin' spirit. Magic don't never come without a price, Photon." "You're saying the way she talks..." "It's part of her pact." "What sort of spirit would want that?" "Ah dunno for certain. Maybe a spirit of cha-os. Or jest one with a strange sense of humor. Or hail, maybe even the spirit o' the 60's, for all Ah know." Jon blinked. "Wait... You're saying there's literally such a being as the Spirit of the Sixties?"

Tex studied Jon for a second, then said, "How 'bout we jest say there is, so as to prevent mah blowin' yer mind." Jon blinked several times. "Too late... You already have." Tex chuckled tolerantly. "Son, I don't doubt there's plenty o'things you know a lot more about than me. But spirits... I could tell you about 'em all naht long, and you'd only have jest dipped your toe in. It is jest not possible for you to have a grip on the subject, seein' as how you've not had any trainin'. I mean, you could prob'ly tell me somethin' about nuclear physics to-naht, but it'd jest be stick figures and pretty pictures compared to the math in y'head, am I raht?" Jon sighed. "I see your point."

They started heading back to the Fitzpatrick house. "No word from your sensor?" "Not a peep." "Huh. I wonder why he's not heading out tonight?" "Who knows? Maybe he's off on a date. Young men do that, I hear." "So I'm told." Tex grinned. "Wail now! Either you're way too pent up, son, or else you've got one o' them 'altern-ative lifestyles' I keep hearin' about." Jon rolled his eyes. "Relax, you're safe." Tex stood upright in the air, gripping the lapels of his duster and grinning wider. "Oh, Ah don't know! Ah fancy Ah cut quite the fahn figure of a man!" "I've got a girlfriend." "Wail, shucks, is she open to new thangs?"

Jon laughed despite himself. "You're a piece of work, Tex." "Ah do try. Stakeouts are always easier with a sense of humor, Ah always say." "Yeah... I know what you mean. It was always easier to be on patrol with the Phantom or Chameleon than with Erebus or Bazooka." "Ah hear that. Lone Star's all raht, an' Bill, he's more fun than a bag o'snakes, but Johnny Reb... Don't get me wrong, he's a fahn upstandin' feller, but he's so intent on bein' the puhfect Southe'n gentleman that th'stick up his... Wall hail." "What?" "My sensor... it's done burned out and Ah never noticed." "Burned out?" "Yep. Ah think... when he put the mask on, the pulse o'magic done overwhelmed it." "That... doesn't sound good." "It ain't. Not even a li'l bit. We gotta find him." "Well... I can do a quick search of the city for him. Should only take a few milliseconds." Tex nodded, unsurprised. "Be about it, then."

Jon took light-form and zipped hither and yon... incidentally finding a burglary in progress. "Oh good grief." He materialized and shone a spotlight on the guy. "Ahem." The burglar lunged for a gun, and Jon rolled his eyes and stun-zapped him. The guy flopped about and struggled to get the gun out his holster, but it was stuck. Another zap put his lights out. Jon had Alpha call the cops and waited patiently for them to get there and take the man in hand, then returned to Tex-Hex.

"Sorry for the delay. Crime waits for no man." Tex nodded easily. "Ah went and counted the milliseconds, an' gave raht up at a thousand. Figured somethin' important came up." "Let's head back to the base and get you a communicator in case we're separated again." They did so. "I'll try taking another look. Hopefully everyone'll be upstanding citizens the next few seconds..." "Don't count on it, but good luck!"

This time, as Photon sped through the city, he saw something odd - something not awash in the blue of shifted wavelengths. He saw an inky hole of a man, frozen in the act of fighting a thug. It reminded Jon almost of Erebus for a moment, but then he saw the characteristic shape of the mask. He materialized above the heads of the combatants, turning invisible and telling Alpha and Tex his location. Tex said over the com, "Try to keep him there, Ah'm teleportin' toward you in jumps. It'll be a bit!"

The fight was soon over. Jon noticed that every time Mask struck the man, his hand or foot would shimmer with light. The young hero brutally beat the man, but stopped once he was unconscious. He turned toward the thug's erstwhile victim, fading back into his normal coloration. "You OK, ma'am?" "Oh, yes, thank you!" She took out a cell phone and dialled 911.

Mirror Mask shifted nervously on his feet, then ran to a nearby wall, catching at handholds and hauling himself up to the roof. The woman said, "Wait! You aren't going to leave me here, are you?" "I'll, uh, wait up here. Don't worry."

Jon chose that moment to reveal himself, flying in visibly and alighting next to Mask. "Hey, nice work." The young man started, tensing up. "Oh. Thanks, I guess." "Your powers seem to be improving." "Yeah. I hit a plateau for a while, but I've started to get the hang of it again. I'm getting a lot better, and fast." "Maybe we need to discuss teamwork, then." Mask ducked his head to his chest and said quietly, "I don't think you want me any more."

That response from the formerly arrogant teen hero alarmed Jon. He asked gently, "Why not?" After a pause, "The cops are after me. I... think I killed a guy. I didn't mean to. I just hit him and..." He shuddered. Jon reached out hesitantly and gripped his shoulder. "That's rough, man. Want to tell me what happened?" Mirror Mask wrestled within himself, then poured out, "This girl... she was on the ground, bleeding...! Her clothes were torn open. I... just lost it. I wasn't thinking straight. I hit the guy. I wanted to hurt him bad..." His shoulders shook.

Jon said quietly, "Hey. I'm sorry it happened." He didn't know what else to say, so he just stood there, offering his presence. Mask finally said, "I don't know what to do." Very gently, Jon told him, "Listen, maybe you should talk to the cops. Running away is not the solution." "I can't! I-" "Hey, we and the cops are on the same side, right? Give them a chance." "Maybe..." Suddenly Mask's head shot up in alarm for no reason Jon could sense. "Crap! Gotta go!" He wrenched himself free of Jon's grip and ran along the rooftop, Jon flying after. "Wait! There's someone I want you to meet!" Mask leaped off into empty space, heading right toward a window lit up by a streetlight.

Jon stared in amazement as the window... rippled... and Mask vanished without breaking it. Shortly afterward, Tex teleported in. "Where is he?!" "He's... gone. Vanished into that window." Tex cursed foully under his breath. "Ah can feel the traces of magic. He's gettin' strong. Ver' strong." Just then the cops arrived and the two heroes went down to answer their questions, Jon rapidly filling Tex in via communicator. They gave the cops the story, and were told, "If you see Mirror Mask again, tell him we just want to talk to him. He's a material witness, but hasn't yet been charged with anything." "We'll do that, officer."

Back at the base, Tex grilled Jon on everything he'd heard and seen. "A plateau, huh? Let's hope raht hard that it wasn't the killin' that got him past it. That... would be bad." "Oh my goodness! I hadn't even thought of that." "Now, you said you could sense a teleport. Did you feel anythin' when he hit the window?" "No, not a thing." "Wail, that narrows it down. Did you notice if he had a reflection in the mirror?" "I'm sorry, I didn't." "Damn. That leaves me with three poss'bilities." "What are they?" "Either he moved into another dimension, or else he's mirror-jumpin'." "And the third?" "A variant on mirror-jumpin', the details aren't important."

"So what do we do now?" "Time is of th'essence, Photon. There's no tellin' where he's at raht now." "Well... I think the time's come to contact Struthers and get the police up to speed." "Agreed." Jon called in, but Struthers was of course off duty. He was directed to a Captain Smith, who heard him out but said, "Not enough to go on. Struthers can deal with it in the morning." "But..." "But nothing. You capes are trouble, and you're Struthers' headache, not mine."

Jon sighed when the man hung up. "Great. Well... We know where he lives. Do we call, or visit in person?" Tex shrugged. "You've spoken with him, Ah haven't. What d'you think?" Jon pondered. "Let's call. I think he'll find it less threatening." He did so, and Richard answered. "...Hello?"

"Hello, Richard." "Who is this?" "We spoke earlier tonight." "...I work in the service industry, I spoke with a lot of people tonight." Jon said gently, "This is Photon..." "CRAP!" Click. Jon shot Tex a desperate glance, then shimmered himself into the zero-point.

An eternal instant later, Jon shot around the house at luminal velocity. He didn't feel right entering the house... What to do? If Mask left the house, he could follow... He solidified, and gingerly used his X-ray vision to figure out where the young hero was. He had the mask on and was... lunging toward something out of Jon's field of view... he was gone. It was... a full-length mirror. Oh... darn!

He returned and reported failure to Tex, crestfallen. "Did y'see if he left a reflection?" "No. I'm sorry." "Buck up, son. It happens. What's th'plan now?" "I... can search the city more thoroughly." "We don't know if he's in the city, but it's worth a try." So Jon spent half an hour going through the Seattle area with a fine-toothed comb at light-speed, but came up empty. "He's gone. I don't know what to do!" "Only one thang to do at this point, Photon. We go in tomorrah mornin' and report to this Struthers feller. Hopefully he's the understandin' sort." "We? It's my city, and I'm the one who screwed up." "Look, Photon. Ah don't want you to go in alone, a rookie ownin' up to a mistake. You need to build reputation here, and that won't help. If Ah'm with you, a vet'ran so to say, it'll look better. And it's nothin' but the truth, raht?" "Yeah... I guess so." "'Sides, it's like that Smith feller said. The cops know we supers are loose cannons, it's in the DNA. Sometimes lit'rally!"

Struthers heard them out impassively; Tex did most of the talking. Jon could tell the older man was doing his best to take the heat on himself, and writhed inwardly. Eventually, the captain sighed. "Enough already. You screwed up; you know it, I know it. Do better in the future, and keep me in the loop, dammit! But for now we need to figure out how to proceed." He paused and held up a sheet of paper. "A warrant for Mirror Mask's arrest. I've been sitting on it for a few days, to give him a chance to talk to us before we haul him in. It'll go much easier on him if he does, but I can't sit on it forever." Photon cleared his throat hesitantly. "Captain, I think if he knows everyone's after him, he'll just get more scared and disappear. The longer you can hold off, the better, I think." The Texas Hex nodded and backed his play.

Struthers pondered. "All right, Photon. We'll try it your way. If you can tell me he's not a threat to my officers." Jon said carefully, "I don't think he would willingly hurt a cop, or anyone else but criminals, and even them not seriously. But I also have the impression that he has episodes where he loses control." "Oh, wonderful. Why can't they ever be predictable?" "In any case, he isn't in the city now." "If you come across him, you'll contact me straight off. I'll leave orders for them to wake me if I'm off duty." "Yes sir."

Once again back at the base, Tex stretched and said, "Nothin' to do now but catch up on our beauty sleep." "I guess. I don't know what to do next... I have no way of knowing when and if he even comes back to Seattle!" "That's somethin' Ah'c'n help with. Get me a map of th'city." Jon looked at him quizzically, but obeyed. "Spread it out, and mark for me where the base is." "Right here. Why?" The Texas Hex drew a small compass out of a pocket of his duster and blew on it gently. A rune on its back glowed red, and he set it down on the location of the base. The needle spun lazily around and around. "If'n our friend Richard comes to town with the mask on, the compass will start glowin' and the needle will point raht toward him." "Thanks, Tex. That'll help." "Ah aim to please."

That afternoon, Jon saw Tex-Hex off to the airport. "It's been a pleasure, Tex." "Same back at'cha, Photon! Keep me informed about Mirror Mask, if you would be so kind. Ah'm profess'nally int'rested at this point. And if you need help in dealin' with him, do let me know." "Thanks. And if you guys need help of the electromagnetic variety, well, Texas isn't far at the speed of light." "Thank you kindly! We'll be in touch."

Jon told Alpha later, "Keep a camera on that compass." "Way ahead of you. If Mirror Mask comes to town, I'll let you know right away." Jon sighed. "I just wish... He could have been an ally, even a friend." "Who knows? But that mask probably has other ideas." Jon shrugged. "Erebus had to deal with a hostile force constantly pushing him toward violence. He did OK." "...Most of the time." "Yeah."

"Good night, Alpha." "'Night, Jon. Don't beat yourself up too much. He got himself into this whole mess, not you." "Yeah, I know."

[According to SP, calling Mask had a decent chance of working, but he rolled poorly on the reaction. Ah well.]