DeadWoman

[My attempt at trying to write a city of heroes tale inspired by the folklore surrounding the Highgate Cemetery Vampire that took place in London in the 60s and 70s] I Highgate Cemetery has an atmosphere that makes you feel like you’re stepping into a gothic novel. There are broken and slanted tombstones that are strangled by and buried under a sea of weeds and wildflowers. There is a maze of trees and unkempt bushes that you get lost in. A high wall that is aged and pockmarked keeps you trapped. Highgate Cemetery has steep hills with cracked steps. The catacombs are open and smell of mold and age. All of Highgate’s architecture looks ready to collapse but continues to stand somehow someway. But what really gets you is the darkness. There are parts of the cemetery that blanketed by darkness and the sun above will not shine through for any reason. And there is of course the silence where nothing not even an insect can be heard. Highgate Cemetery has seen its share of history. It is the final resting place for some who made history. It was also home to a vampire, but not just any vampire ... ... a vampire king. There were goblins, ghosts, and aliens. Heroes are real and fight for truth and justice. There are villains who want it all, and they wage a war that does not end and sometimes it shows something new, something real. And in the beginning, everyone felt that vampires weren’t real. No one had actually seen a real-life vampire and brought back irrefutable evidence of that encounter. There were abominations that looked like F.W. Murnau’s nosferatu and those monsters aligned themselves with the 5th Column and The Council, but they weren’t anything Bram Stoker had ever imagined, and people accepted the idea that vampires were nothing more than an Irishman’s imagination, but then things changed after 1963. Highgate Cemetery resides on Swain’s Lane in Highgate, which is a suburb of North London. Highgate is a very affluent but you wouldn’t think it if you visited it or were passing through. It wasn’t run down or decrepit, far from it, but it made everyone feel as if they were welcomed with open arms to a community, a family. That feeling persists even to this day even after the Highgate Vampire passed into folklore. They accredited this to the fact that they weren’t big on change, so most of Highgate today looks the same as it did on the fateful day in 1963. Beside the cemetery is Swain’s Lane. It’s a road that is used every single day. Its a beautiful road with one side having the great wall that borders the actual cemetery and the other having a row of trees that guard family homes. Driving down the road gives a sense of knowing what the line between life and death feels like. A husband and wife drove down that road on a cold evening in 1963. They were talking about the fun they had at a party they attended with all their friends and family, and then the wife screamed for her husband to stop the car. His eyes went back to the road instinctively and saw a tall gray man wearing a gentleman’s finery from a century before, and he was casually walking, or rather floating, across the road. The husband slammed on the breaks and felt the car skid to a screeching halt. The tall gray man did not stop, slow down, or even even acknowledge the husband who had gotten out of the car and who was shouting obscenities. Enraged over this moment, the husband had stormed over and was ready to get physically violent, but he stopped and turned stark white. The tall gray man had walked through the stone wall as if it was nothing. His wife had seen this too and she screamed for him to get back into the car. He couldn’t get back to the car fast enough and the two blasted off. Every cemetery has its ghost, and people get a goose bump chill that lets them know they’re still alive whenever they talk about them. Some ghosts can get physical of course, and there were a few that could get truly violent, but that was to be expected as the dead had a hard time letting go and could get controlled. What to do and how to act with ghosts of that nature was time tested and common knowledge, but this was different. There was something truly off with this and the other sightings that came later. No one could truly describe it except to say that it just felt ... wrong. Then again, the few years before the very first sighting was marked by odd sounds and chants. People who visited the cemetery would find animal bones, used candles, and of course pentagrams and other strange symbols. The consensus was that it was occultists much like the Circle of Thorns who were practicing their black magic on consecrated land. Then it all stopped just as the Highgate community was taking the matter seriously. It wasn’t long after that that the ghostly sightings started and continued through most of the 1960s. All of the sightings took place in or around Highgate cemetery and it was always with the same tall gray man dressed in Victorian finery, and what always followed was that sense of evil from the darkest of places. Then, things heated in early 1970. Families in the surrounding area began seeing the ghost in their bedrooms. They would wake up groggily and weak and wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep, but they would freeze in fright at the sight of the ghost looming over them, and they would black out immediately just before they could scream. They remembered very little and were never sure as to why they were so weak or why there were marks on their throats. The attacks continued and became more frequent. Within early March, the community of Highgate had had enough and had called out to one who they knew who could help – The Dream Doctor. II On the night of Friday, March 13th, 1970 the Dream Doctor arrived at the cemetery with two associates from the Midnight Squad. The first was a young psychic woman by the name of Lucy and the other was an expert on Abrahamic magic by the name of Winchester. Not long after entering the cemetery, Lucy had grabbed a hold of The Dream Doctor’s arm. Both he and Winchester stopped as Lucy felt overwhelmed. She staggered, nearly fainting, but was caught and held up by both. She slurred out to them, “What we face is a vampire.” Both men looked to one another in surprise. They did not doubt that their companion felt entity psychically, but they wondered if whether or not the entity was toying with them. Winchester asked, “Are you sure Lucy? It could be ...” Lucy shook her head with enough force to make him stop mid sentence. She said with much conviction as she could, “I am sure. He did not expect me so his guard was lowered, but he slammed up a defense once he felt me. That’s why I am dizzy. I’ll be alright in a moment.” “Did you get anything useful from him?” The Dream Doctor asked. True to her word, Lucy was regaining her composure as she said, “He’s old, very old. I think he’s from the era of Vlad Tepes. Maybe even before then.” “How is it that we haven’t encountered him before? Or vampires for that matter?” Winchester asked seemingly to her but to both of his comrades in general. The Dream Doctor thought for a moment and then realization dawned on him and it made him feel stupid and it showed. He rambled out, “We have been thinking too complex when simplicity is the solution. Metaphysically and figuratively speaking, the darkness is infinite and there what hides inside cannot be seen because it is dark.” Lucy finally responded after a moment and feeling more in control, “The Circle of Thorns. They were the ones who had been performing rituals here. This cemetery is on a massive ley line filled with untapped energy. They awoke the vampire who in turn scared them off.” After a pause, she whispered simply, “The vampire is tapping into the ley line, making himself real but more. “He’s awakening the dead.” III They continued through the cemetery on that cold March evening. The sky was dark with a hint of color that was reminiscent of a dying ember from a fireplace, and that gave them some light to see. The vampire hunters worked their way through the cemetery with Lucy leading them through the Egyptian Avenue. Highgate Cemetery had built an Egyptian architecture inspired portion of the cemetery not long after the cemetery opened in 1839, and this was because interest in ancient Egypt was at an all-time high back then., but time had worn it chipped away much of its former glory leaving it worn and scarred. Lucy had told them that they were close and that they should all be on their guard and they were. Passing through the Egyptian Avenue had revealed sacrilegious vandalism that got worse the closer they got the Circle of Lebanon. This was a circular island built upon a foundation of family vaults and at its center was a massive cedar tree. Decades later, the tree would be cut down due to rot that came from the vampire. Lucy had stopped a vault in particular stating with absolute certainty that this was the vampire’s lair. Unlike the other vaults nearby, this vault had a short corridor that had to be walked before its entrance could be reached, and the entrance was locked by a heavy wrought iron gate. Within the gate was thick darkness that oozed outward and snaked with long wriggling tendrils. The trio stood facing the vault. Before them was the void and it was yearning to break free. They were frightened but they were resolute in stopping this nightmare. The Dream Doctor looked to Lucy and said, “You said he is wanting to raise the dead. Can you sense if he is succeeding?” Lucy focused and then nodded saying with worry, “Yes, some of the dead are rising. They are becoming like he – undead.” “We cannot let them escape. I want you and Winchester to go and confront them.” Winds began to pick up and its overall strength was enough to make the trio grab hold of anything for support. It was obvious to all three that the vampire had control over reality in the cemetery but that control was not yet absolute. If it were, we would be flung away or worse thought The Dream Doctor. The winds howled with fury and Winchester shouted, “What about you?” “I’ll handle the vampire myself.” “Be careful,” Lucy screamed, “he is a vampire king!” Vampires were once myths but they became real at that moment. Accepting that was rather dizzying even more so in the knowledge that they had what could be called royalty. The Dream Doctor nodded and ordered them to go. They were hesitant but they turned and obeyed. Once gone, the Dream Doctor stared down the vault entrance and pulled his way forward. It was then that the winds stopped abruptly. He knows he cannot scare me away so he is conserving his energy The Dream Doctor told himself. He walked a few paces before stopping abruptly as the wrought iron gate slammed open with fury revealing the darkness within. The Dream Doctor slid his hand in his coat and grasped a hold of a vial filled with holy water. They were unaware that an actual vampire had control over the cemetery, but it was a cemetery they were in and it was losing its consecration. If that happened then the dead would know eternal torment. That was why Winchester gave them all vials of holy water. He stopped just at the entrance of the vault but did not step inside. It was too dark, but he could feel the vampire standing on the opposite end and was uncomfortably close to him. The vampire’s voice was ancient, raspy, and evil but was none the less civil. He said, “You are the Dream Doctor, and you have interrupted me.” The vampire gave The Dream Doctor no chance to speak as he continued on, “Have you come to save the living? Well I must conscript the dead into my service for I have much work to do. The living will know me and the sweetness I bring.” There was silence for a moment and then a low tone that was still wickedly polite, “But do come in Dream Doctor. Enter champion.” Removing the vial from his coat, the Dream Doctor uncapped it with a flick of his thumb and made the sign of the cross. Water sprinkled on the vampire causing him to smoke. The blessing gave some light to the darkness and The Dream Doctor could see the vampire clasping his face as it burned. To the Dream Doctor’s amazement, the vampire fell upward towards a large circular point that was boarded. The vampire screamed and howled but it stopped when it shattered through the ceiling. Rushing over, The Dream Doctor looked up and saw the entrance to an above mausoleum. The Dream Doctor held out his hand and said, “To me.” There was a bright flash and in his hand was the staff he always carried with him to battle. One end of the staff illuminated. He then floated upwards into the above mausoleum ready to catch his prey. IV The Dream Doctor took immediate inventory of his surroundings once his feet touched the mausoleum floor. It was very breath taking to see with marble floors and an alter with an angel cradling a child and it was all done in Grecian style. There was a single set of doors that was locked and there were no windows. Both he and the vampire were alone in that place and it was very confined and that was what troubled him considerably. He moved his magic light around to get a better view of where the vampire could be hiding. There weren’t many places he could given how small the mausoleum was, but then he realized there was one place he had not looked at and that was above his head. He looked up and saw the vampire lunge for him from the ceiling. The Dream Doctor had no time to move out of the way and was caught. He cried out in strangled surprise and shock when the vampire hefted him up with both arms and threw him towards the ceiling. The Dream Doctor’s back smacked hard against the marble top and he expected to fall but didn’t. He looked down and saw the vampire hold his out his hand and guide unseen forces that kept The Dream Doctor pinned in place. “Do you have faith shaman?” The vampire asked. The Dream Doctor choked out, “I do.” “Then why are you still my prisoner?” The vampire asked with something that sounded like innocence when in fact it was simply condescension. “Because you misunderstand what faith is.” “And what is it?” “I doubt you can truly understand.” The Dream Doctor spoke with the same tone of civility the vampire showed him. He took a moment to see the vampire. His captor’s face was long and gaunt almost stretched painfully so. “I have faith,” the vampire said. The Dream Doctor shook his head slightly saying, “What you have isn’t faith.” “Then shall we test our faiths against the other?” The Dream Doctor nodded saying, “Then lets.” The vampire smiled viciously with venom dripping from his fangs. Before he could show off his faith, he turned abruptly towards the direction of the Terrace Catacombs another part of Highgate Cemetery. Centuries ago, the lands that made up the cemetery belonged to the then Lord Mayor of London William Ashurst. The home was demolished and in its place was St. Michael’s Church. There were bodies at rest there; bodies that would soon rise, but something had disrupted that desecration. The vampire turned his head and saw The Dream Doctor face to face with him. Before he could react, he felt a sudden and sharp pain in his chest and knew that he had been staked. The Dream Doctor said to him, “I have faith in my friends. I have faith in their ability to act. I have faith that evil will always try and boast at the wrong moment.” The vampire king fell to his side and seemingly exploded into it fine dust that scattered in the air. The Dream Doctor panted as he caught his breath. After a moment, he could hear banging coming from the outside. It was Winchester and Lucy. “Are you in there!” He called out. “I am!” The Dream Doctor responded and whispered a few words that cast a small spell to make the doors open. Lucy and Winchester came in and immediately hugged him. He cherished the moment before standing up straight and smiling, “How did it go?” “We got them,” Winchester said with certainty. “All of them.” Lucy added but asked tentatively, “and the vampire?” “Gone,” The Dream Doctor said. V In the fifty years since that cold evening in March, the Dream Doctor went into the dreamscape to seek out answers to a greater threat he had foreseen, and while he focused mainly on that work, he never forgot about the vampire of Highgate Cemetery. In fact, he had come once he had learned that the great tree that was the centerpiece of the Circle of Lebanon had been cut down due to it being diseased. He had to make sure that sickness wasn’t something left over from that night. “But not forgotten?” The woman asked behind him rather teasingly. He turned with a start and sighed when he saw that it was The Dead Woman. Vampires had started coming out of the coffin after that famous battle in Highgate. Some, like The Dead Woman, had fought life while others had stayed in the dark. But if there was one thing The Dream Doctor could not stand was their overall ego – especially The Dead Woman’s. He took off his bowler hat and held in his hands to keep them busy as The Dead Woman always made him fidget in annoyance. He said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Lily.” She smiled as she bit into an apple and chewed as she came up close beside him looking at the remains of the tree. She said, “Oh come now Doctor. Your battle with the vampire king is history. In fact, there are even transcripts of your tête-à-tête with his majesty.” She gave a bow of utter sarcasm showing what she thought of the vampire king himself. She then added, “I always wondered what your reaction would have been if Lucy or Winchester had said – ‘but not forgotten.’” What got under The Dream Doctor’s skin was the transcripts. He looked to her incredulously and asked, “Do they really have transcripts?” He shook his head and rolled his eyes saying with frustration, “I swear, people today are treat the immortal battle between good and evil as if it were some sort of – entertainment.” He then paused and studied her for a second as he realized what she was doing and he asked, “You are eating an apple?” She nodded and held it out to him asking, “Of course I am. Would you like a bite?” He blinked and shook his head saying, “No, you are eating an apple. You are a vampire. You are eating an apple. How is this possible?” She laughed as she took another bite and spoke with her mouth full, “We vampires are a strange lot. The older we get the more unique we become.” He frowned as he moved away from the remains of the tree and Lily the Dead Woman. He floated down from the dais and near the vault he first encountered the vampire king. Lily followed by simply hopping down. He started walking and as he did said with more blustering annoyance, “Yes, well, you are right on you being a strange lot.” He paused and then turned to her and asked, “Why are you here?” Taking one more bite from her apple, Lily tossed it up onto the dais and made a little swish sound which got The Dream Doctor to roll his eyes silently. She then said, “Paying my respects actually.” She looked around and softened as she whispered, “I have a few friends entombed here.” “Fellow bloodsuckers I take it?” Lily looked almost offended as she said, “Actually they were human.” She then smiled as she knew what would get under his skin as a way of repaying the offense. She started to say, “I know its hard for your wonderfully human mind to grasp the notion that we have human friends ... ” The Dream Doctor frowned and said, “Don’t start with me.” Lily straightened as she followed and said, “You’re right dahling, I should be on my best behavior. Especially whenever I am here,” she smiled playfully for a moment as she added, “but it is fun to annoy you at times.” She gave him a playful side hug to show that she was only teasing, which only annoyed The Dream Doctor even more. She then softened and said to him, “but I was serious. I knew a few humans in my time who are buried here. I grew close with them and I wept when they died. So, I always visit them whenever I’m in London.” The Dream Doctor stopped and appraised Lily’s sincerity. He gave a slight nod when he felt she was being genuine. He then continued on and said, “Then perhaps you satisfy some of my curiosity. Tell me, was he a real vampire king?” Lily slowed her pace and walked with The Dream Doctor as they made their way out of the cemetery. She said, “Actually he was royalty but he was in no way shape or form a king. He was born in Wallachia in the 15th century and became cursed when he practiced black magic. He moved his way here back when this cemetery belonged to Sir William Ashurst the then Lord Mayor of London. He vanished after that. I had thought he was gone. Imagine my surprise when I learned he had simply buried himself here.” “The ley lines.” The Dream Doctor muttered. “Precisely,” Lily said and then stopped to say, “What you did here dahling was nothing short of spectacular but you know as well as I do that he wasn’t vanquished.” He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Lily. He said, “You read my mind.” “No, I just know you,” she then quoted a line from some text that he immediately recognized, “’There are things in this world that are truly simple but not everything is simple.’” He arched his brows and said, “You read my book.” “That I did dahling.” After a moment or so of silence The Dream Doctor said, “You are right of course. I never thought he was truly dead. That’s why I came here after hearing about the tree being cut down. I thought the disease it had was from him.” Lily smiled showing how pleased she was with herself, “Which is exactly what I thought.” “So, what happened to him?” VI The Mercy Island Ferry docked at port. People were getting off and coming on and those who were entering Mercy Island were stopped by an Arachnos who gathered particulars about each visitor. He halted a woman and asked her rather curtly, “Name?” The woman, who was a psychic, smiled as she said, “Lucy, Lucy Highgate.”

[Chapter 1 found here] I With transport complete, Tinker spun around but dropped abruptly as if the floor was swiped away from him. It was a sight The Gunslinger had seen many times when he pulled the trigger on men he had killed. Death, the kind he was so intimately associated with, wasn’t as glorious and spectacular as Hollywood made it out to be. There weren’t any gasped out final words or last-minute jump scares. It was a well-placed shot and you were done. The Gunslinger worried that the shot he fired travelled with him and seeing The Tinker drop suggested it had. The white noise of terrified thoughts that screamed guilt jump started him into action. He leapt up, holstered his piece, and rushed over all in one go, but every step he took was a thousand-mile journey even though there were a few steps between them, but he made it and he saw that The Tinker was alive. But he had to ask, “You alright Tommy?” Tommy nodded his head quickly, but The Gunslinger wasn’t satisfied. He quickly scanned him for any blood or injury, but his attention was broken when Tommy spoke with mustered up machismo, “I saw your gun and ducked. You’re scary with a gun Carlos.” A smile cracked through Carlos’ often deadpan let’s get down to business charm. The words “mad scientist” were said often whenever a scientist with a far wackier smile than Einstein’s proclaimed, with gusto, that they had an ah-ha idea, and the antics of men like Doctor Aeon only helped to make those words mainstream, but sometimes, they were spoken in ignorance. Tommy Burton was born a mutant with an IQ that would have made Einstein whistle in shock and awe. One day he was a young kid who did all the things any other normal kid did, and the next day he became a genius. He absorbed all the knowledge he could get his hands on and he would dabble in those subjects. Carlos had taken to calling him ‘Tinker’ after a Louis L’amour character who ‘tinkered’ with various jobs and the likes. That sudden shift of priorities from play to study had taken away his childhood. It was only now, in his early twenties, where his childhood was slowly catching up with him. He watched cartoons, played video games, collected toys and more. His interactions were on that very same level and directly noticeable like with his little white lie. Carlos knew immediately that he wasn’t saying that as fact but rather as a way to impress. “You didn’t duck,” he said with a wide grin that took pleasure from this revelation, “you fainted.” Tommy was about to stammer out a more from the heart than well thought out retort when a woman’s ahem cut through the banter. Both turned and to see a living corpse with great beauty stare down at them with great disapproval. Her narrowed eyes showed just how deep her displeasure went and that made the two feel so young and so caught. Tommy held up a hand, ready to explain himself when she spoke coolly, “I think our guest needs your attention Thomas.” The sting that came from being called by his actual name, and not the one he preferred, jolted him into action. He hopped up and rushed towards the survivor who was on her hospital bed and blissfully unaware of everything. All the monitors and IVs she was attached to were still there, and they worked even though they were unplugged as each had its own internal power supply for such occasions. Robots, that he had summoned through a wrist computer, came in and helped with the equipment. As he pushed the survivor towards medical, he called out, “Send Katie my way. I’m going to need her assistance.” “Will do,” said Carlos. He looked up to The Dead Woman who still stood over him with that parental look of disappointment, but her smile over his feeling uncomfortable then was enough to break through, and she offered him a hand up to which he took. “Are you going to tell me I was foolish to go out on my own Lilly?” He asked. The vampiress nodded simply and said rather casually, almost being parental again but was good natured and affectionate with her chiding, “You acted foolish in going out on your own Carlos and you shall never do it again.” A smile formed on his lips as he strode past her saying, “Yes ma’am.” Vampires were often brooding and over emotional but not Lilly. She was an unnaturally beautiful creature, but it was her wild and untamed spirit that made men and women fall head over heels for her. Carlos had asked her once, “why aren’t you tortured like all the others of your kind?” She had responded rather simply, “Because that wastes time dahling,” she always spoke the word darling with a Zsa Zsa Gabor accent and a touch of flourish as that was her thing. She continued, “and I don’t like to waste time.” He respected that. Most considered her eccentricity a symptom of insanity but not Carlos. He knew there was a method to her madness. She laughed from the belly up when he asked her to join him as his second in command, and for several minutes berated him, but he didn’t allow it to get to him; in fact, he even dished it back to her, and that was what made her change her mind. She had said that that was the sign of a good leader, being able to take it and dish it. Later on, he had asked her, “Why do you call yourself The Dead Woman?” She spoke with good cheer, “Because that is what I am dahling! I am a dead woman.” II On the way to his quarters, Lilly said, “I sent the footage from your goggles to Emi. The thing you faced looked familiar to me, but Emi has lived far longer than I have and would probably know what it is.” Carlos’ instinctively asked, “What does it remind you of?” Her pause was enough to make Carlos stop and look at her. Being obscenely flamboyant was part of her overall charm. Carlos had listened to it for so long that he knew things were alright when she was abundantly cheerful. There were times when it went silent and that was always worrying for Carlos. It meant that he would need a steady drink after hearing her lay out some really bad news. He waited for her to speak and she did by saying, “An old enemy that I thought was long gone.” “Gone? How? Who are you talking about?” There was another pause that only added to Carlos’ concern. She finally said, “I would rather wait for Emi to get back with me.” There was the unknown and there was there dark, and the Circle of Thorns rested in between. The ancient war that sunk the great city of Oranbega left those spirits awake and unable to rest. They watched as time passed by naturally, unable to do anything but watch. Man evolved and they began asking questions in the hopes that the answers would evolve them further. The Circle of Thorns was in mourning over the loss of their paradise on Earth and the people they once were. Their grief propelled them to act as sirens and lure men towards them and possessed their bodies. Emi, who was once a great priestess, had found refuge in the body of Edith Ritchie, a punk rock groupie. To smell fresh air, to see the sun and feel its touch was a glorious feeling, and it was that that made her feel criminal. She had stolen someone else’s life for her own. She wanted to give it back but couldn’t as the library of souls had been destroyed by an Oranbegan who wanted to stay the course. There was only one alternative and that was to ensure that life was protected and not destroyed. She called herself The Envoy after a rock band that Edith fawned so happily for. Lilly and Emi combined had a wealth of knowledge that was vast, and he appreciated it whenever it was given. Some thought that it was foolish to listen but Carlos didn’t think so. He had learned to trust their judgement, but that didn’t make his annoyance and frustration any less severe. He wanted to know what spooked Lilly and he wanted to know it now, but he wasn’t going to press the issue. Such a thought only made his mouth water for a drink. He turned and kept going saying, “Keep me up to date.” “I shall.” III The two stopped by Katie’s room along the way. He peered his inside and saw Katie on her bed reading one of those motivational books. He never bought into it because he had become jaded. There were good people in the world that needed to be protected, but those who had fallen too far just couldn’t be saved. They were rabid dogs that needed to be put down as Carlos saw that as an act of mercy, but Katie changed his mind, and she did it by being herself. Ever since she was a kid, Katie Jones listened to the stories her grandfather told when he was a hero in Paragon City. Most remembered Albert Jones as Tomorrow Man – a hero who fought with Statesman when the Nazis invaded Paragon City in 1941. His profound strength of will saved many lives and touched many hearts – including Katies. And she constantly dreamed of the day when her own will could unlock powers that she could use to save lives with. That day came when Crey invaded her hometown in order to cover up an environmental disaster. Her psionic and empathic abilities allowed her to push their assault back. When asked who she was she called herself – Ms. Tomorrow. And like her grandfather, she touched the lives of those who Carlos would have killed and saved them. Carlos knocked on Kate’s door. She looked up, saw him and beamed, “Hey boss.” Katie was quite the gabber and before she could ask about his adventure, he told her, “We found a survivor and Tommy is asking for you. Join him in medical.” She snapped her book shut and hopped out of bed saying, “I’m on my way.” IV After Katie had left, a young man, clad in priestly black, turned a corner and called out, “Boss.” Carlos acknowledged him by saying, “Rick.” Lilly on the other hand bit her lip and looked away, and Carlos murmured to her, “be nice.” It was no secret that kids could be cruel if they wanted to be. It was a fact that wasn’t truly tackled since everyone was a kid once in their lives and they dabbled here and there in childhood cruelty. They often said that school would end one day and they would get over it. After all, they put it behind them so it stood to reason that the same could be said for their kids. But there were moments that slammed the breaks on that sort of thinking like with Rick Boofer. He was constantly ganged up on by kids at school. They tortured him because he had a funny sounding last name, and it was a common sight to see them use his last name as a derogatory adjective. Pain wasn’t objective as some felt it was. It couldn’t be controlled nor could it be ignored, and people would do anything to make it end once they reached their limit. Rick had reached his and he felt the only way he could cope was to find permanent rest under the sea, but something caught his eye as he stood underneath the great statue of Talos. In the water was a sword. His first thought was that it was a foam toy because it was floating, but as he reached out to grab it, he found that it was real. It had weight. It had an edge. And its beauty showed that it was a nobleman’s sword. He held it in his hand and wondered the swords mysteries, and as he did, he felt himself changed. His reflection showed a face that was not his own. It was the face of a man whose faith was so strong that it reached out and touched another’s life promising that there is a reason to live; that there is always a reason to live. Anytime he held the sword, people would see this face only, but that was nothing. What amazed him most was that he knew how to use the sword, and that was strange as he never held a sword before. There were no answers to the sword’s mystery and he didn’t want to find any. He wanted to use it to make things right and he did as The Templar, but his greatest act of heroism came from himself. He had put the sword down and stood before a group of Hellions that invaded the local high school. They wanted to snatch some teens to sacrifice, but they could not pass Rick for they felt something unworldly come from him that denied them access. It was the same thing Lilly felt to which often strained her relationship with Rick as vampires and faithful knights rarely mixed. Rick stopped as Carlos slowed down and said, “I found a survivor and brought her back. Tommy is looking after her right now in medical. How I found her and got her out was unique to say the least so what I want you to do is to do a quick security check.” Rick nodded and said, “I’ll get right on it.” When he was gone, Lilly said with some dulled cheer, “I think my relationship with him is improving. He didn’t once give me that look of his.” Carlos felt a chuckle sneak out of his lips as he said, “The good lord works in mysterious ways.” Feigning offense, Lilly said, “Please watch your language.” Carlos’ gut busted with deep laughter. V At his private quarters, Carlos took off his Stetson and goggles and hung them up. He caught his reflection in the mirror beside the stand and took a moment to look at himself. What looked back at himself was a sixty-five-year-old who made sixty-five the new thirty-five. That’s what he told himself but hey the back of his mind bought it and that was all that mattered. He reached into a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Tequila and a glass. Even though he was no longer Malta, he still had contacts that did some favors for him. One of them always sent him a bottle of top shelf Tequila on his birthday. He poured himself a glass and downed it. Looking up he saw his framed photo on his dressers floating in mid air. Lilly asked, “What is this?” Hollywood had always made a big deal of vampires not having a reflection and they played that off well with good special effects but seeing it live and direct was a shock that Carlos nor anyone could ever get over. Even now he felt uneasy but he the Tequila he swallowed helped dull that. He said, “Show me.” She showed him the one picture he knew she would zero in on. Grabbing another glass from the cabinet, he poured himself another drink and made one for Lilly. He turned and offered it to her and she accepted only after she had placed the picture down. He picked it back up after he sat down and looked at it fondly. It was a black and white picture taken at a packed full auditorium. There were many smiling faces who wanted to be immortalized, but the star of the picture was of a masked wrestler and a little boy he had hefted up in his arms and both were pointing straight up to the sky. After a moment, he said rather dreamily, “That’s me on my eighth birthday.” Lilly didn’t seem to listen as she was more focused on Carlos’ obvious trip down memory lane. He continued, “My mother had arranged for me to meet the greatest luchador ever – El Santo.” He pointed to the woman whose face was barely visible from behind, and it was obvious that she was his mother as only a mother could irradiate such warmth with a simple smile. Lilly probed him for more details by saying, “I know of El Santo – The Saint. I remember watching that movie of his where he battled the vampire women.” That made him look up and beam this wonderous smile that told that he had also seen it. The movie was terrible of course but for an eight-year-old boy it was an event that left a wonderous and indelible mark upon him. He nodded with enthusiasm that he had seen it. He chuckled out, “I remember that,” he looked to her and prodded her with a bit of teasing by saying, “I’m sure you got upset over how he handled them.” She pouted her lower lip and shook her head like it was no big deal saying, “I thought they were all beauty and no brains anyway.” That got him to laugh but he doused it a little by swallowing more of his drink. He looked back to his picture and continued on with his story, “I was a huge fan of his like so many boys in Mexico.” He jammed in a quick, “I still am a fan of his, even today. I watched him wrestle on channel 3 on Saturdays, and I would beg mom to take me to the movies whenever he had a new one come out. He was my hero.” Lilly smiled and asked, “How did she make it happen?” Another sip of Tequila but this time it was to steady himself. Memories like this were always welcome, it was just sharing them with others that unsettled him. After another sip which magically became a gulp, he said, “My mother worked at the National Palace in Mexico City as a cleaning lady.” He felt some of his courage waver, another gulp, and he hopped, skipped, and jumped through some of the details. “Sometimes she would meet some very important people who visited, and one day she saw him. He was acting as an ambassador to a visiting diplomat, I think. My mother watched him and then moved to him when he was alone. She thought that he would be upset and everything, but he wasn’t. He greeted her and listened to her talk about me. She hoped that maybe he could give an autographed picture or something. He did her one better. He explained that he was going to be wrestling in Mexico City, which happened to be on my birthday. He invited her and me to be guests free of charge, but my mother said no.” Lilly interjected by asking, “Pride?” Carlos shrugged a bit as he said, “Not really. For her, it was important that I knew that she saved up for this. It wouldn’t be much, but it would come from the heart.” He finished the rest of his drink and then rose up to get some more. He filled his glass and brought it and the bottle back with him. All the while a nagging voice whispered in his ear about how unworthy he was of in having such a wonderous memory. That voice reminded him of the blood that was on his hands, and already he could feel it on his fingers and could smell it in the air. He took another drink hoping it would free him from that and looked to Lilly and her smile urged him to go on and he did. “So, they worked out an arrangement. She would buy the tickets and tell the manager where we would be sitting at, and after he wrestled, he would then come to where Mom and I were.” By then, his fear was forgotten as the story he was telling was spilling out uncontrollably with so much passion, “I watched him wrestle, and like any stupid kid I prayed that he would win. I cried every time he lost his advantage and cheered when he reclaimed it, and when he won, I celebrated just like everyone else in the arena did.” He paused spoke with whispered passion that said that this was the climax of the story and you won’t be disappointed, “and then I saw him come my way, and within moments he was standing right before me. It was like,” he held up his hands, saying apologetically, “and sorry for my language, seeing God almighty.” Lilly didn’t even flinch that was how engrossed she was in the story. “How can you describe that feeling? You can’t. Its too powerful. You can only bask in it. I looked up at him as he said with the voice of God, ‘Are you Carlos Gallardo?’ “I nodded my head as I was unable to say anything. He then knelt down so he could look me in the eye and let me tell you I felt sickened by that. God should not bend a knee and look us in the eye,” Lilly laughed in delight when picturing the little boy Carlos was trying desperately to convince a god to keep standing with childish innocence. He continued, “But the Saint was not swayed by this as he said to me, ‘I hear that today is your birthday. Is this so?’ “I was paralyzed with awe; how did he know this? I had no time to contemplate this as he hoisted me into the air and I cheered when he proclaimed to all, ‘Then before God on this very day I dedicate my victory to you little Carlos.’” Shame came back to him after he finished his story. That moment in time had lasted forever and ever and it inspired him to become a hero, and he was one but it came at the cost of murder. He killed the enemies of Uncle Sam. That was not what gave him nightmares. No, it was the monsters that Malta, in the guise of Uncle Sam, deemed too good to lose. He thought back to The Candyman and his experiments on mutant children. Carlos had put a bullet in the Candyman’s skull for that but it left him wondering if there were any other monsters that Carlos protected. Lilly had reached out and touched his leg and he looked up to her. She was smiling at him and her smile was just like his mother’s warm and loving. She knew what he was thinking but didn’t say it openly. What she said was indirect but heartfelt, ”That is the sign of a mother who loves you and who would always be proud of you,” she raised a glass to him, “To your mother.” He raised a glass to that and she downed hers. There came a knock on the door, and it opened up. It was The Spaceman. He said, “Tommy has found something he wants you both to see.” James Estes had a life most people would sell their souls for. He was a brilliant engineer whose work provided a home and security for his family. Then the Skulls and the Trolls had a war that spilled into James’ happy home life. His wife of ten years and two kids were killed leaving him all alone, but what most couldn’t understand was that he died as well. He recognized the name James Estes and even responded to it, but who James Estes was, was gone. His mind could not and would not accept the fact that everything that mattered to him was gone and nothing he could do would bring them back. That snapped his sanity and pushed aside everything James Estes was – except for his engineering skills. He used them to create a new persona – the Spaceman. He was a wanderer through space and had no name but he found a home on Earth and took up the name James Estes as a secret identity. People had tried to help James away from his fantasy world but every attempt failed. Lilly had once said that death wasn’t always about the body dying. Sometimes the body lived on but the spark of life that gave it individuality went away, and in those moments, it could find new life much like the phoenix. Besides, The Spaceman did better as a hero patrolling the streets of Paragon. Carlos was even saved a few times by The Spaceman. Why keep that locked up at all when it can do good? Though part of Carlos hopped that one day, some day, James could find himself again. Carlos and Lilly rose up and followed The Spaceman out.

I had done Max's final mission that completes his arc; however, he does not go into the inactive contact list. A few things to keep in mind: - I did not do the Director 11, Slinger, Gyrfalcon missions first (only did the final mission) - I did the solo mission. Is there a way to get him into my inactive contact list? Thanks

I In Paragon City, all anyone had to do was to look around and know they were living in a city of heroes. Superheroes soared the skies, swam the oceans, and walked the streets. They were there morning, noon, and night. Some people actually thought that Paragon City was the safest place to be, but that was far from actually being true. Some of the greatest villains called Paragon City their home, and it was there they showcased their latest plans for world domination. It was easy to be afraid when that happened. People died. Lives were ruined. But that constant Hell on Earth wasn’t enough to break them. Their champions had taught them that surrendering to despair was evil. This was because it betrayed everyone including the one who surrendered. Statesman, the greatest of Paragon City’s heroes, was the living embodiment of this ideal as he never stopped fighting even though everything looked grim. At the same time, they were taught that defeat couldn’t always be avoided. It was just a fact of life. Everyone and everything falls given enough time and circumstance. Getting back up and pressing on was the difference between enjoying life and surviving it. Sometimes you just couldn’t because the defeat was absolute; much like Statesman’s death. You couldn’t always see that as it was completely unpredictable, but there were moments when it was visible on the horizon, and it would leave you with a choice: move out of the way or wait for it to come. Some chose the latter as fear could be a sweet talker at times. It would whisper that enough was enough and that it was time for rest. The fog that came through Paragon City was one of those moments. II The fog had rolled in quietly just as the sun was about to rise. The city workers who were out at the time really didn’t think much about it. Paragon City was at Rhode Island’s southern most tip and was kissing the Atlantic Ocean, and fogs were pretty much commonplace. There wasn’t any worry about the fog once everyone was up and doing their morning rituals, but there was some irritation over it as people knew it would prolong their getting to work on time angst. As time went on, people started to take notice of it because it wasn’t going away, but the damage had already started by then. It started off as an annoyance slash inconvenience. Electricity flickered unpredictably and cellphone reception was spotty. As time passed, the damage turned into constant jump scares with windows shattering and tires blowing out for no reason. Panic settled in when car engines exploded, and roads split in half with gaping jagged cracks. Electricity was completely gone by then, and cellphones, laptops, and computers along with other mobile devices had shorted out and caught on fire. By then the city council had decided to evacuate the city. Every hero was moving evacuees to Providence as the fog did not reach that far. Everything was going well until they heard the first scream. They turned to see red and nothing but red vein its way through the fog. More screams followed. There was metal cutting flesh. An unearthly war cry that came from Hell got closer and closer as it ravaged the air. A few heroes had formed a defensive line while the rest rushed through the evacuation. There was confusion. There was anger. There was panic. All of that was the music of war and everyone was drowning in it. When the last were evacuated a call of retreat was sounded and everyone did. III A few years after World War 1, a young man had returned to his home in Paragon City, but he came home changed. People took notice of his abilities that he claimed came from his inner will but being impervious to bullets and knives as well as having the strength to lift a thousand or more pounds with no effort was beyond natural. It was the power of gods. Some fell to their knees in worship while others feared that the devil walked among them. His name was Marcus Cole, but he called himself – The Statesman. He did not want to be feared or worshiped. He did not want to be seen as a god or as a devil. He proclaimed that he was a man who only wanted to inspire, and he did just that with every gangster and villain he put away. If a man could have god like powers and make the world because of it, then he could do much more. So, people began to explore this brave new world eager. Great advancements in science and technology were made that conquered the world, but it also opened up the final frontier of space, and not long after that they learned that there was another final frontier: parallel worlds and alternate realities. This great discovery showed that there was more than just science. There was also magic, so people delved into that with the same hunger they had years back. They unlocked its secrets and learned that magic and science could be merged together. New technologies were unveiled that made everyone’s lives better. One such technology was a hero’s best friend – bases. A pocket reality could be made and accessible to the ones who made them. From there, great compounds could be built where heroes could store their secrets and tools. What’s more was that they could link their bases with others creating large networks of heroes. All heroes retreated to these bases and were thankful that the fog’s destructive effect couldn’t reach them. All heroes began networking with one another so that they could organize and communicate on the crisis. Hours would go by and all of Paragon City’s heroes were finally on the same page. All agreed that no one was going to give up, and that they should work out an offensive. This meant going back to Paragon City and doing reconnaissance. That was beyond dangerous given the fact that they never got a clear look at their enemy, and that meant that they didn’t know what to look for. More importantly, there was the chance that there were people still in Paragon City, and they needed to be rescued. Volunteers had stepped up, and one of them led a group who called themselves The Union. His name was Carlos Gallardo, but the world knew him as The Gunslinger. IV A day ago, Paragon City was a thriving metropolis that was a city of tomorrow as well as a city of heroes, but now, The Gunslinger looked out amongst the dead and decaying city scape as best he could through that god forsaken fog. He told himself that this wasn’t real, but denial didn’t make anything better. What he saw was real and it might be the start of the end. That was what worried everyone. They didn’t say it, but those thoughts were carved so far deep into them that you couldn’t help but notice. The fear was understandable as no one wants to die; especially from a slow death that strips away your dignity that leaves you powerless and helpless as well as vulnerable. It reminded him of his time in Malta. The Gunslinger had killed his fair share of bad guys back then, and some of them had the proverbial God complex. He remembered those men more because of the terror they felt when they realized they were going to die. These powerful and influential men had spent their lives changing the world through sheer will, and most felt that was evidence of being more human than human. A gun gets put to their head and they promise money and power if they’re let go. Its only when that gets ignored that they realize they’re going to die, and in that moment, they realize that they weren’t more human than human after all. Illusion, that’s all it came down to really. You live so long in a fantasy world that you tend to forget the absolutes, and the biggest of them all was that everything came to an end. Facing this isn’t a walk in the park. You wind up grabbing hold of that illusion and never letting go even though you’re being dragged away. He could see that in the faces of the heroes he talked with. They all wondered why they had any powers if they can’t use them to save everyone’s life. The Gunslinger said nothing about that. If the world ended tomorrow, then he would accept it. After all, he had a lot of blood on his hands, and it was on so thick that he couldn’t see his fingers or the gloves he wore. He only hoped that when the end came, he had done enough to walk through the pearly gates. He stopped at the hospital and got off his bike. He squinted and stared through the fog and saw that it was there, and it was standing. This amazed him as most other buildings were ready to topple over if sneezed on. He tapped a button on his goggles and watched the world turn into a thermal readout and with its arrival came the fog’s departure. He could see and that eased away some of the tension he felt. Not being able to see clearly had him unnerved. No one was near him but within the hospital was a heat signature on the ground level. He paid close attention to every move and action it made, and his gut was telling him that it wasn’t a survivor. The signature was standing and moving rather slowly almost as if it were swaying. No one who was trying to survive would do something like that. He looked up and was about to turn off thermal imaging when he saw something on the top level, and it was enough to make him risk communication. He spoke softly, “You reading me Tinker?” The response was quick, “I am boss. What do you have?” “I’m transmitting visuals,” The Gunslinger said and tapped another button on his goggles. Tinker took a second or so to see what The Gunslinger was seeing. He was a bit surprised which came out sounding like a low murmured woah. Finally, he said, “Looks like the hospital admins made a mistake.” Thank you for stating the obvious was what The Gunslinger was really saying when he replied back, “You think so Tinker?” He could hear Tinker clear his throat and murmur quickly, “I’ll go ahead and get a medical bed set up, and I’ll let The Dead Woman know that you found a survivor.” “Tell her that I might have found one of those things that came out of the fog.” “Understood.” The Gunslinger headed towards the hospital. It was clear that what he saw was a survivor. The heat signature showed it laying down like any patient would on a hospital bed. The only problem he now faced was – how to get past that thing. V He switched off thermals and turned on his cloaking device when he got close to the hospital. Stealth technology had been around for awhile, but it had its share of problems like digital distortions. You had to bend light in order to be invisible, but early cloaking technology caused digital like distortions that surrounded the individual and could be seen if close enough. Light bending caused everyone to go blind as eyes need light to see and light cant reach the eyes if its bent. Some improvements were made that gave it some technological value, but then came the Rikti invasion. These aliens from another world had technology that was taken from them and reversed engineered after they were defeated. Their technology improved cloaking technology considerably. Those who used it could stand in front of anyone and not be seen whatsoever. What’s more, the technology allowed those who were cloaked to see perfectly. This was perfect technology, yet The Gunslinger felt cautious as he stepped inside the hospital. There was a moment where he had to slow his approach as the fog, and he couldn’t see much. Smacking into a wall or something worse was something he didn’t want to do, but that changed when he found the entrance that he walked through casually. It was still there; still standing in place and swaying rather slowly. The fog didn’t follow him inside so he could see everything clearly – including the creature. To him, it looked like a mummified corpse that was clad in some sword and sorcery armor that was as red as blood, and he was taken by how bright that red looked as it had a cigarette in a dark room glow. He turned to continue but stopped when his foot hit something metallic. The clang was enough to awaken this zombie warrior. It jerked around and made a pig like squeal that melted into a guttural and liquid sound growl. It shuffled towards The Gunslinger with quickness. He didn’t know if the creature could see him or not, so he stepped back and unholstered his gun as he did. The creature didn’t show any sign that it had seen anything, but that wasn’t enough for him to lower his gun. The creature stood in place and seemed dead for a second or so before erupting into loud pig like squealing that showed frustration and rage, and as it did this, The Gunslinger cocked back the hammer. He was about to pull the trigger when debris had fallen from the opposite end of the lobby and that grabbed the creature’s attention away. It shuffled off with that unusual quickness. The Gunslinger didn’t waste any time and moved quickly towards the stairs. VI In the stairwell, he moved swiftly while keeping his eyes for any holes or lose steps. A few of them had decayed very badly, so he leapt them whenever he encountered them. At the top floor, he stopped and opened the door to peer inside. The survivor was here on this floor, but he wasn’t sure if any of those things were there either. He stepped inside and immediately fell. Instinct took over and he bit his lip to prevent himself from screaming out in surprise. For a second, he wondered if he had fallen through a hole but realized that this didn’t happen. He turned and saw that his foot had slipped into a dent in the floor made by the fog’s decay. He moved his foot out of it and pushed himself up. He turned to face the stairwell and aimed his gun directly at it. He waited and held his breath as he did and wondered if the thing below was rushing up the stairs or would cry out in rage. When he heard nothing, he stepped towards where the survivor was, but he stopped dead when he got close. The door that lead to where the survivor was a perfectly normal looking hospital door that was untouched by the rampant decay. He looked down and saw light just coming from underneath. He was quiet, so quiet in fact that he could hear an electric hum from an overhead light and a beep, beep, beep from medical equipment. This didn’t make any sense to him whatsoever. He approached the door with his gun ready. He pushed it open just a whisper so he could peer inside. He saw no one except for the survivor on a hospital bed, but his eyes were focused on how normal everything looked. A single hospital room that was perfectly preserved. He realized the longer he stood outside the more he exposed himself to the enemy. He pushed in and gave the room a quick look and saw no one else was there. He was safe even though he didn’t feel it. Everything about this hospital room was normal and untouched by everything that was going on. There was a table with a couple of chairs so that family could get comfy while visiting their loved one. On the table was a little brochure about health coverage. The metal rails on the bed were polished and clean. The bed linen looked clean and smelled fresh. Then there was the girl. She looked maybe twenty or twenty-one with soft red hair and pale skin with a dusting of freckles. He looked down towards her hand and picked it up. It was dead weight to him, but he could see that she had been to Pocket D by the stamp on her hand. She was intubated and wired to a heart monitor along with a few other devices. Her chest rose up in rhythm with the air she was getting. Tapping his communicator, The Gunslinger asked, “You seeing this Tinker?” There was silence. The Gunslinger wondered if there was a problem with the communication, but Tinker’s reply only told him that he was at a loss for words. Tinker said, “Yes I am. The Dead Woman is here with me as well.” “What are you both seeing?” Tinker spoke for both himself and The Dead Woman, “Young woman in a comfortable hospital room after going through some Hell in the ER. The room looks,” he struggled for a word and then blurted out, “normal.” That was good enough for The Gunslinger, but it wasn’t enough to lower his guard. He asked, “What happened to her?” A moment of silence and then, “Everything I’m seeing says she’s in a coma. Check to see if there is a chart.” In any other time that would have been one of the first things The Gunslinger did, but this moment threw a great big monkey wrench in his thinking. He looked at the foot of the bed and saw a chart. He picked it up and went through its pages slowly so that Tinker could read through it. After a few pages he said, “She’s in a medically induced coma.” “You say that like its a bad thing.” His tone was matter of fact when he said, “Its a risky move because you’re using a hell of a lot of barbiturates and that can play havoc with your body.” “Then why do it?” “Its to preserve brain function, but you do that in more severe cases like intercranial pressure.” The Gunslinger asked just to make sure he understood, “Brain swelling?” “Yes, but the chart you showed me doesn’t show a cause.” He frowned as he looked around the room and said, “Tinker, can we teleport her and the equipment she’s hooked up to safely?” There was no hesitation when he said, “Yes we can. All the equipment she’s hooked up to has internal batteries that kick in if unplugged, but I’ll need a few moments to configure the teleport pad.” It was then that The Gunslinger heard the pig like whine of rage from down the hall. He moved quickly towards the door and saw the creature shuffling towards it quickly. He closed the door and placed his back up to it and shouted, “Work fast!” The Dead Woman spoke up, “He’s on it.” The creature walloped the door with enough strength that nearly toppled The Gunslinger. He let out a cry and adjusted his back and position so he could add more resistance. The creature responded with another attack that was more powerful than the last, and for the Gunslinger it nearly broke him. Again, he readjusted and held himself stronger. The final blow was powerful enough to break his hold on the door and The Gunslinger rolled and got himself repositioned with his gun aimed. The bright light he saw told him that he was in mid transport, and he was thankful for that. He just hoped that the bullet he fired didn’t get transported as well.

Interested in joining The Shadow Widows? Look me up at @DeadWoman on Everlasting

Impressive. Most impressive 😉

A few days ago, I had created a character and when I had clicked on going to the tutorial my computer froze up. After I had restarted it I saw that that character was gone so I tried rebuilding it but the name was taken. So I made a new character and gave that character a new name and clicked on for the tutorial and again my computer froze up. After I restarted I tried to remake that character and the new name I had chosen was taken. So I am thinking that maybe I goofed up somehow that maybe I have those character names just that they're not accessible? Is there any way I can get those characters? Thanks in advance for any help.