The Journal of Flagwaver

[Flagwaver]

I was born in the Rivera Medical Center, Outbreak neighborhood, in October ‘78. My father was a civilian working for Freedom Corps in their Eastgate Maintenance Facility and my mother was a homemaker.

 

As a kid, I was a bit overweight, but also really smart for my age. Unfortunately, this all combined to make me rather unpopular with other kids my age. I only really had two friends growing up, Gary and Corey, and was regularly subjected to bullying.

 

Everything changed in high school. I found a love for weightlifting and mixed martial arts. I also had a growth spurt that shot me up to 6’3” in two years. This all caused me to become quite fit, gave me a punch that could put anyone on their butt and the endurance to run practically forever.

 

When I was growing up, I heard stories of my grandfather. He died before I was born, but my grandmother made sure I knew all about him. You see, he was a hero. He enlisted to serve in the Army before World War II. After the war broke out, he volunteered for a joint services project to create an advanced infantryman. He was the only volunteer to actually gain powers, though. The program ended up being scrapped and my grandfather was assigned to the 1st Hero Brigade.

 

My grandmother had his picture on the mantle in her living room. It was of my grandfather holding a Panzer over his head with one hand and smiling the dopiest grin in the history of dopey grins (my grandmother’s words). Replacing the frame on the picture, I saw that it was actually folded in half. The other hand was Statesman holding a similar tank. My grandmother never knew that I scanned it. I had it framed in my room and still keep a smaller copy in my wallet.

 

My grandfather’s only power was super strength. He was able to shrug off most attacks, but my grandmother said it was because he was too dumb to realize he was hit. He continued to do the hero thing when he came home from the war, but it put a little too much stress on him in his later years. He passed away a year before I was born and my parents named me after him.

 

Because of the stories of my grandfather, I decided to enlist in the National Guard in my senior year. It’s not because I wanted super powers, but because I wanted to serve. I could have gone active duty, but the National Guard helped out the state (primarily Paragon City) and it also worked alongside super heroes. There was also some nice college money.

 

I did OSUT (One Station Unit Training) at Ft. Benning, GA in the summer ‘96. Because of the calisthenics-only physical training, and lack of weight benches, I lost muscle mass in boot camp. I was promoted to Private Second Class shortly after returning from training and Private First Class while at Annual Training in the summer of ‘97.

 

I attended Eastgate Community College in September ‘97. I graduated with an AA in Computer Sciences in ‘99 and was promoted to Specialist that same year. After two years of sitting in classrooms, I decided that I wanted something more. I put my plans for university on hold to “be all that I could be,” attending whatever special schools I could. This included Airborne, Air Assault, Pathfinder, Master Fitness Trainer, Explosive Ordnance Disposal, combat mechanics, and everything up to the instructor’s course in combatives (military hand-to-hand combat). In 2000, I was laterally transferred to Corporal and attended PLDC (Primary Leadership Development Course), a requirement to become a Sergeant. After that, because I was assigned to Paragon City, my unit sent me to the military’s MHTIN (Meta-Human Threat Identification and Neutralization) course. When I returned, in ‘01, I was promoted to Sergeant.

 

I decided to take a bit of time off from school after that and just be a normal twenty-something living in Paragon City. I got a nice little apartment in Eastgate, began attending an MMA gym in Galaxy City, both learning and teaching, and even volunteering to lead some after-school programs there. I also began dating a heroine, a cute blonde that used magic to control light and create bubbles of energy. I submitted an application to Freedom Corps, on her suggestion, but they denied me due to not having any free slots for non-powered individuals. I was even offered a position on the JCSTRB (Joint Command Special Threat Response Battalion), which I turned down because it meant going active duty.

 

The morning of May 23rd, 2002, seemed normal when I woke up. I quietly slipped downstairs to not wake Shannon, and turned the television on before I made coffee. I barely registered what was on the screen; it looked like some kind of science fiction movie preview. The phone rang before I was even able to pour my first cup. It was the armory activating me and telling me I had fifteen minutes to report to duty. When I asked what was happening, I was told me to watch the television while I was getting ready. I looked over and it registered that the red lights in the sky was happening and not just a movie preview.

 

Shannon got ready with me and ended up teleporting me to the armory. I gave her one last kiss, to the jeers of some of my fellow soldiers, and told her to be careful. I was one of the first squad leaders into the armory. Nobody knew what was going on, not even the FSBA rep.

 

My battalion was deployed across the city, mostly to keep the peace and discourage riots and looting. My platoon was sent to patrol Perez Park. It was quite boring. We staged a “temporary command point” in front of an Audio/Video store that set up some speakers for us to hear the news on the big screen in their window. The owner of Heroes Gyros even brought us some lunch for free. At sunset, hell began pouring through those lights in the sky.

 

I wish I could tell you exactly what happened, but it’s kind of a blur. The armory was one of the first targets that the aliens destroyed, along with the cell towers, so communications were down across the city. My platoon had a group of thirty of those armored aliens and a dozen of their flying drones, target us. My squad was on patrol when the attack happened, so we weren’t completely wiped out like the Lieutenant in front of the A/V store. I lost half of my squad and a vehicle during the initial wave. The only thing that saved us was running full-speed into the forest for cover. For some reason, the aliens didn’t fight too well in the dense trees of the park.

 

By the next morning, we were dangerously low on ammunition and began raiding out from the forest to strike at small groups of the aliens who were going door-to-door looking for people. We rescued who we could and took what the aliens used for range weapons. We had quite a cache of the rifle-things that were surprisingly easy to fire. We kept doing the hit-and-fade raids, mostly harassing the enemy, while setting up a small encampment for survivors in the caves below the park.

 

We held out for close to a week before reinforcements showed. I don’t know how, but it was Shannon leading a Longbow detachment. I was so happy to see her that I just laid a lip lock on her. That caused her troops to cat-call us both a little. We organized getting the survivors out of the park and then both units made our way to the command post set up under the remains of City Hall.

 

The fighting ended up lasting for six full months and most of the city was destroyed. I lost all but two members of my original squad to the aliens, whom we learned were called Rikti. Shannon, unfortunately, was also lost. In November, the heroes launched a huge strike against the Rikti through portals to their homeworld while conventional forces (that’s me) launched against Rikti control zones. They opened their portals again and flooded back to their planet to defend it, and then they all flickered out of existence at the same time (some of them cutting Rikti, drones, and even part of a mothership, off in the process.

 

The next two years saw the rebuilding of the city. All the survivors of the battalion got therapy, some of us with psychic therapists. We were kept on active orders through the rebuilding and more than once I found myself babysitting war orphans at the newly rebuilt armory. I even hooked up with a teacher who was providing schooling for the orphans, but it only lasted a couple of months and was purely physical. One of the biggest changes in the city was the inclusion of the War Walls, using Rikti technology, as a way to prevent the kind of large-scale invasion we just experienced.

 

In March of 2004, I was released from active orders. I pretended as best as I could that I was a civilian and even grew a moustache (it was a dark time in my life, I know). I moved into my parent’s old apartment in Outbreak because they moved back to Oregon after the invasion. I took over the master bedroom and turned my old room into an exercise studio (i.e. put in a weight bench and bow machine). That lasted all of a month.

 

On April 25th, 2004, I was awakened by sirens and a reverse 911 call. It told all residents to shelter in place, remain calm, and await further instruction. I ran outside to see what was going on and for slammed in the chops by some guy with green glowing eyes.

 

Don’t get me wrong, I can tumble with the best of them. I had been in MMA for a number of years, I was thinking of going back to the gym in Galaxy City (if it was rebuilt), and had my bell rung more than my fair share of times. This guy felt like he was swinging a brick, though. I was able to get my senses about me and prevented him from doing it again, but trying to take him down was something else. He looked like he didn’t even fell the punches I was throwing.

 

I don’t know how, but I was able to get him in a headlock and knock him out just in time for Coyote and Flower Knight to arrive (our zone hero and his sidekick). They tagged him for teleport and thanked me for my assistance. We spoke briefly about what was going on and he told me that Cryptic Park was crawling with them. It had been quiet for the past few days after some kind of Crey facility break-in and then these guys appeared. In the end, Coyote told me to be ready for anything.

 

I decided to pack up what I could and head out for the armory. There was a full barracks I could stay in if I needed to. After three days, there was a call for zone-wide evacuation of Outbreak. Thankfully, my insurance covered the loss of the apartment (power-related coverage was expensive, but well worth the cost). I stayed at the armory for another week while waiting for the insurance check and then got myself a third-floor studio apartment in Galaxy City, not far from the newly reopened Regulator Gym (under new management).

 

The gym was now owned by the zone hero, Back Alley Brawler, but I knew him as Michael White. After a few months of attending the gym, he offered me a job as a personal trainer and MMA instructor. Who was I to tell Back Alley Brawler no? So, that’s what I did when I wasn’t off playing soldier one weekend a month and two weeks in the summer, not counting the various classes they sent me to.

 

Life in Paragon City wasn’t quiet, though. There was the Rularuu invasion of 2004 and the various Halloween and Winter attacks. There was a second Rikti invasion in 2007, but this one went far better than the first and there wasn’t as many casualties or damage.

 

I made Staff Sergeant (E-6) in 2006 and got my own platoon. By this time, I was an assistant manager at the Regulator Gym and one of the few people who could call Michael by his first name. Because my job wasn’t too busy, I decided to go back to school. I got my Bachelor’s in 2008 and my Master’s in 2010. I majored in Computer Sciences and minored in Forensics.

 

I made Sergeant First Class (E-7) in 2011. Not long after, I got a call from Freedom Corps. Apparently, someone found the application I had submitted a few years prior and wanted to being me on part-time as the military training liaison for the Freedom Corps Longbow division. The money was almost as good as I would have been making as an active duty E-7 and what self-respecting soldier would say no to work around that many women in tights?

 

Life was good. I still worked at the gym, technically as an assistant manager, and taught MMA courses there. I even got into a semi-serious relationship with a Longbow Officer named Tina (she was my liaison officer in the training program); there was even talk of marriage and starting a family. I still did my weekend warrior thing for the National Guard, too. Tina and I even put in an offer for a house just outside Galaxy City. But, you know what they say about things being too good to be true.

 

November 23rd, 2012 is when the Rikti launched their second big push. They had better preparation now and were attacking only Paragon City with their entire force. The only thing that prevented their taking the city as a foothold to a global invasion were the tens of thousands of heroes who made their home here. Still, thousands of heroes died and countless civilians.

 

The last time I saw Tina, we kissed and wished each other luck in the Freedom Corps building as she led a squad of Longbow on a sweep for survivors. There was no body found, but I gave up hope after three months. However, the city endured and was rebuilt (there was considerably less damage this time).

 

I was promoted to Master Sergeant (E-8) in 2013 and took over full-time liaison with Freedom Corps (dropping back to weekend manager at the gym). However, my heart just wasn’t in it anymore. It probably had something to do with Tina dying, which my therapist agreed with. However, I still trained those troops as best as I could.

 

In 2016, with twenty years in, I submitted my retirement packet. There was general grumbling from my commander, but he couldn’t really say anything. I did my time and had two combat deployments (both in Paragon City) to show for it. Freedom Corps offered to keep my on with a direct transfer to Master Sergeant in Longbow, but I declined. Unlike the National Guard, they threw me a “retirement” party… there was even a cake and Ms. Liberty showed up to thank me for my help.

 

So, there I was, a 38 year old veteran with a guaranteed disability income of $1000 a month whether I wanted it or not. Michael brought me on as a full-time day manager at the Regulators Gym where I also worked as a personal trainer and MMA instructor. I caught up on my reading and was looking to attend Paragon University and go for my PhD, but it never really came to fruition. I decided to stay single, but that didn’t mean staying alone (if you get my meaning) and primarily focused on physical fitness since I worked at a gym.

 

One of my neighbors was a single mom who lived down the hall. She worked two jobs to take care of her daughter who became a pleasant pain in my neck. I first met Angela after the attack in 2012, when she was 8. When she turned 12, I offered to watch her after school for her mom. The woman was suspicious, until she found out that I worked for Back Alley Brawler. So, I set her up with treadmills and bikes until she was old enough to be taught some very basic fighting skills (something everyone should learn). I don’t know why, but she began looking up to me as a father figure. I didn’t mind, though.

 

Things in the gym got strange about the time Angela began high school. Initially, I thought something was wrong. I could still feel the punches of those who were fighting me in the octagon and during training, but they didn’t hurt at all. Not only that, but I stopped bruising completely from even the strongest punches.

 

Over the years, I had been subjected to who knows what kinds of radiation. So, I set up an appointment at Cygnus Medical Center to get a full checkout. I was subjected to a full week of tests, to include the doctors having to use a diamond-based micro-drill in order to puncture my skin to collect a blood sample. In the end, they came back and delivered the bad news: I had developed a case of the superpowers.

 

During the second Rikti invasion, I had been hit with some kind of mutagen. Those around me screamed when it hit them and it did strange things to their skin. For me, it tingled and burned cold (best way I can describe it). The doctors said that whatever the mutagen was, it activated a dormant gene that I had inherited from my grandfather. Instead of turning me into whatever it turned those with me into, it made me practically invulnerable. On top of that, there was still a secondary component that was continuously mutating. They said that it would happen about every day or so, but there was potential for other abilities to develop.

 

My grandmother was ecstatic when she heard the news (she never left the city like my parents). She told me that I would be able to step into my grandfather’s shoes from all those years ago. She even brought me my grandfather’s old costume to try on. It consisted of a blue leather jacket, blue cargo pants with stars on them, a red ammo pouch belt, and a red mask. She couldn’t find the gloves that went with it and the black boots were too big for my feet. So, I ordered a pair of red boots from Icon Online with a similar pattern to that on the pants and used a pair of red gloves I trained in from work (weighted knuckles). Grandpa’s arms were shorter than mine, so the sleeves of the jacket came only to mid-forearm.

 

The next day, at Angela and my grandma’s insistence (my grandma offered to watch Angela after school for me), I took off from work and ran over to the FBSA (Federal Bureau of Super-powered Affairs) building in the Freedom Corps headquarters to register as a superhero. The front desk sent me to the SERAPH (Scientific Experimentation Research and Application to Paranormal Humans) office after reading the medical report I presented to them.

 

By the end of the day, I felt like I was in Reception Battalion back at Ft. Benning all over again. I was poked, prodded, paper-worked to an almost fatal level, and had absolutely everything about myself tested three-fold. I was grateful at the end of the day for the under-padded seat at the FBSA registration secretary’s desk.

 

The woman, about in her early thirties, asked me for the codename I wished for my identification. I told her the name my grandfather used: Flagwaver. She informed me that the name was locked out and started in with the book-history of why. I stopped her and told her that he was my grandfather. Her eyes went wide and she called me a legacy hero. It took about half an hour more before I had my identification card, hero license, and handbook. She even asked me out to drinks since I she was getting off. Who was I to say no?

 

The next day, I put in my two week notice at the gym. Michael brought me into his office and asked me what was up, concerned because of both my hospital visits and my taking the prior day off. I smiled and handed him my identification card and license. I’ve never seen someone smile so big in my life as he stood and poured two drinks, handing me one. I didn’t know what it was, but it tasted old and smooth.

 

It took me a week to get completely through the handbook, let along the various online tests and certifications I applied for (military training is good for a great deal, I found). On top of that, I tried to budget the necessary upgrades to my grandfather’s old costume to bring it up to modern standards of material and strength. In the end, there I was: A forty year old veteran getting ready to take my place in the City of Heroes.