[center][img]http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/coollogo_com-13921598_zpsbde23e32.png[/img][/center] [b][u]Then[/u][/b] The box lowered. A small crowd gathered around a wooden box, slowly lowering into the ground on a suitably gloomy, Lost Haven day. A woman dressed all in black, trying to hide her fame behind a veil. Her celebrity not wanted on this tragic day, a single handkerchief disappears behind the veil to dab tears periodically. A nondescript elderly gentleman walks to her side, gives a hug of consolation and a kiss on the cheek – more for his own benefit than hers – before returning to his own grief. She offered him a few words, but at this point there’s no reaching him in his devastated fugue. Another old friend rests a heavy arm on his shoulder in consolation. The man in the box should be him. [b][u]And Again[/u][/b] Another small crowd, one more lowering coffin and another grey skied Lost Haven day – it’s as if the sky knows. The woman is there once again, a different cut black dress, but her famous face still hidden behind a veil. The same handkerchief suffers punishment from a tearful face and running mascara. But the elderly gentleman’s disposition is barely comparable. He can’t even move. Rain falls on him, he has no umbrella and he doesn’t care. The woman approaches him at the end of the service and embraces him, her celebrity might lead to unwanted attention – it doesn’t – but all parties are beyond caring. As she holds him, he’s unable to even raise his arms to return the embrace. He’s a broken man beyond tears on this day. The woman offers him words of condolence and kisses him on the cheek. The old friend gives a hug and words he won’t remember. He won’t even be sure he heard them at the time. A middle aged man and woman stand off to the side with a man in his early 20s. They don’t approach, and it will be a while before the middle aged couple will speak to him again. The younger man wants to approach the old man but he doesn’t. Later, when the crowd has dissipated and the press long gone as the opportunities for celebrity snapshots dried up, the elderly man drops to his knees in the mud and howls. Tears finally breaking clear. Apparently he hadn’t cried them all out in the past few days. The boy in the box is his grandson. And once again it should be him. [b][u]A Week Ago[/u][/b] Dennis Connolly and Alan Coughlin stand towards the back of a small crowd gathered around a well varnished coffin. The weather is irrelevant. The woman is dressed in a third cut black dress with veil, Dennis squints and recognizes her face. He’s not terribly surprised to discover who it is. Lady Liberty, known nationally – hell internationally – for her own services years ago, and Alan walks up to her and hugs her. Dennis knows the drill, he stay in his place with his head down and hands folded across his front. His grandfather offers a few quick words to her, before returning back to Dennis’ side. The coffin lowers, delivering Colonel Ironsides back to the earth. Goodbye old friend. [b][u]Now[/u][/b] Dennis lies sprawled upon his bed in boxer shorts, half covered by a swirl of sheets and blankets , deep in sleep. Dreams of danger, giant villains of his family tossing a bug-sized Dennis around like he was nothing. He bounces across the concrete, before looking up at an enormous monstrous vision of his grandfather. [b][i]“So... that’s your best effort?”[/i][/b] [b][i]“You’re a loser, Dennis! So why don’t you kill him?”[/i][/b] “What? No, grampa!” [b][i]“Soy un perdedor...”[/i][/b] “Wait... what?” Dennis clung to sleep. The terrifying beings of the dream fell away and were replaced by visions of beautiful women, wanting to spend time with him. Dennis was charming the pants off them, at least that’s what they assured him... before the world started to shake. “Huh?!?” Dennis woke with a start. Alan Coughlin was hunched outside his open bedroom window, tapping on the glass. [b]“You didn’t answer your phone.”[/b] Dennis rolled over and grabbed his phone, looking at it he did indeed have a missed call. “What is it?” [b]“Go look out the door. I’ll wait til you get back.”[/b] Dennis got to his feet and crossed the floor of his bedroom, rubbing his eyes with his palms. He threw the door open and took the vista in. The city was going to hell, handbasket not included. Demons were pouring out of a portal from one corner, more grotesque devils were getting sucked up towards some flying figure in another distant place. Wide strewn devastation could be seen across the whole city, from his precariously placed home. Burning building, flipped cars, people in the street were getting devoured. People were getting devoured! Literally feasted upon by nefarious beasts of mythology. The sky was a terrible shade. If this were the End of Days he’d never received a memo. Dennis quickly went back to his bedroom without a word. “Is that really happening?” [b]“I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t. Get dressed.”[/b] Dennis quickly pulled clothes from his drawers and started suiting up, throwing questions at his grandfather all the while. “What caused this? How is this even happening” he asked, pulling on his top. [b]“A portal opened downtown. No suspects at this point. I wouldn’t worry about that either. Portal was so big. The level of energy generation for such a mystical gateway—“[/b] “Consumed whoever made it?” Dennis pulled on a boot. The old man nodded. [b]“Most likely.”[/b] Dennis stood up and checked himself. “Look alright?” The older man was able to muster up a stray smile, something Dennis rarely saw himself. [b]“You look fine.”[/b] Alan passed the Golden Rod through the window. [b]“You’ll need this.”[/b] Alan took it. “Even with this... I’m not ready, am I?” Alan didn’t make eye contact. “Grampa?” The old man looked up and returned his grandson’s gaze. [b]“I don’t know. I don’t know if anyone is,”[/b] he said shaking his head [b]“I don’t even know if anyone CAN be.”[/b] [b]“But you looked out there. You saw what’s happening. At this point, does it even matter?”[/b] Dennis felt bad just for asking now. [b]“You ask me if you’re ready... I don’t know. You better be.”[/b] Dennis realized that was as good a pep talk as he was going to get, ran out of his bedroom. Took one final look at the bedlam that the city had become and the fourth Aquilifer took flight. The man-child soared.