The warbling and the trilling roused him, pulling him from his stupor and bringing him back to his senses. Krang coughed through a throat full of smoke, his lungs burning. Adrenaline shot through his system, bringing him back to his senses. The X-Wing bobbed and weaved slightly, then he looked out in panic as the nose of the craft, all broken and bruised, started to tip below the waterline. The cracks in the hull filling with water. Slapping one control, he watched as his bag of gear appeared in a flurry of bubbles. With his free hand, he undid his restraints and hit the switch to pop open the canopy. There was a dull thunk, and he pushed against the canopy, but it didn't open.

He tried it again. Thunk. Looking back at the controls, he scanned over them, as he noticed various switches and lights flickering on and off indiscriminately. The water was seeping into the system and shorting out the electrics. A sense of urgency was evident in his movements now; he pulled the manual releases, then heaved on the heavy transparisteel cockpit, forcing its hinge to give way. The humidity assaulting him, he looked up as the remaining TIE fighters performed a perfect spiral, then dove and shot off into the distance. Looking towards the shore, he could faintly see figures on the beach, which were no doubt the rebels he was supposed to rendezvous with. Jumping out of the seat, he grabbed his bag and swam for shore.

The water was shallow, just barely too deep to stand, as he kicked he tried his best to listen to the sounds going on around him. Every time Krang's head dipped beneath a lazy wave and he lost track of the world around him, his heart rate increased. He had already been ambushed once today, very nearly twice. To say he was on edge was a distinct understatement. A shadow crossed over his head as he surfaced, and he stood. His heavy feet sank slightly into the thick mud beneath him. A Gozanti-Cruiser passed overhead, two AT-ST scout waters hung from its belly. Followed shortly by a Sentinel-Class shuttle. Already laser fire started to go out between the rebels on the beach and the larger vessels, as the cruiser dropped low over the shallows it shook slightly as the walkers dropped into the water in a resounding splash. Their knee joints bending slightly to absorb the shock of impact.

Heavy laser cannon shots of angry red energy lanced into the rebel position, and he winced. The shuttle would be carrying at least a squad of stormtroopers. He was effectively cut off from his support, the only thing he had that could make a dent in the walkers was a well-placed thermal detonator and there wasn't any guarantee that he could make that shot from this far away. He looked around, panic setting in. For any other beach, any other angle of attack he could take or any other avenue for retreat that he could possibly find.

[/hider]

---

---

Welcome! To Star Wars: Banshee Down.

The Rebel Agent was shot down. The meeting was abandoned. Someone, somewhere along the way, leaked or sold information to the Empire so as Banshee-One arrived at the planet, instead of coming down low to a planet with very little in the way of Imperial Resistance, he arrived with TIEs ready to engage him on his tail, as Imperial Ships swarmed the system. In a matter of hours, the planetary garrison was doubled. The system locked down, the various smugglers, pirates and vagabonds trapped on the planet. Pushed to ground.

Through the course of this Roleplay we'll be playing agents, for one or another reason, attempting to help the Rebel Agent in his quest to get off the planet and back to Alliance High Command on Hoth.

Any questions? Feel free to ask.

---

Important Information:

While I am submitting a lot of information, as the story grows and progresses new locations will be created by me, as well as characters, but also feel free to create your own as needed. This lexicon is to help you get started, and as the roleplay goes on, it will be a helpful record of new places and faces.

---

Rules:

1. We're all here to have fun, please help me help you to do that.
2. Any PvP engagements will be discussed beforehand, with an agreement before you even get into that situation.
3. With the design of the roleplay, you will all be writing in essence against me. I don't want to kill a PC unless that player wants them to die; however, please don't force me to write really convoluted escapes every other post because you choose to a Solo Manuever.
4. If you're stuck for what to do, ask. It's my job to help you along to continue the story.
5. No Metagaming/Powergaming.
6. This Roleplay is going to contain some slightly more mature themes, blood, gore and swearing is allowed; however should be kept tasteful (no doing it just for the sake of doing it). Anything regarding what you are doing to that alien hooker, we don't need to know.
7. Initial Maximum of one PCs per player, further can be discussed going forward.
8. Respect eachother.
9. Have fun.

---

Character Sheet:

This is the character sheet template; feel free to make personal tweaks as you see fit. The important thing to me are the skills, and weaknesses. History doesn't need to be excessively long, but if your character is an excellent rocket-jumper, I expect to find out why.

[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Species:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Appearance:[/b]
[b]Equipment:[/b]
[b]Abilities(For Force Users): Balance it out, and detail how skilled they are.
[b]Skills:[/b]
[b]Weaknesses:[/b]
[b]History:[/b]

---

As Jackie let out a soft, relaxed breath, her entire body went limp, and Sif lowered Jackie's head down gently. As she did so with her free hand, she pulled off her cloak, placing the furs underneath the woman's head, cushioning it against the cold floor. She smiled softly before looking up at Helen. Their eyes locking as they met, a shiver of recognition travelled Sif's body as she met those emerald green eyes. Sif was about to ask the woman if they had met before, the knawing sensation of recognition clawing at the back of her brain like an itch she couldn't quite scratch. When the woman at the door cleared her throat loudly, drawing attention back to her.

Sif allowed her eyes to travel over her. She was clearly some kind of warrior, like the others who had shot Jackie. That said, the garb was different. It appeared to be more functional, with a sleeker design. Rather than some form of flag on her shoulder, there was the crest of some form of bird. From the head shape, either some kind of hawk or an eagle. The edges of the eagle were lined with green against the black. Much of her outfit actually appeared to have green highlights. Everything except for the weapon that was pointed directly towards Sif.

"Okay, now disarm and step back so I can call for help."

Sif stood up and stepped away from Jackie; however, her hand never moved to the hilt of her sword. Her hand stayed loosely by her side, in an open palm. "Farther aide will not be necessary, and as I said to those who wounded Jackie. I will not disarm. You mortals have already proved to be willing to wound first, and ask questions later."

Roz looked to Helen for help, who merely shrugged as she returned her attention to gently stroking Jackies forehead. Not seeing any other recourse, and the magical giant lady had saved the life of someone shot at by the police Roz did the only thing she could do, she holstered her pistol and moved over to Jackie for a cursory examination. Breathing, heart rate, and all appeared good. From what a basic glance could make out, there had been no wound at all. It was as if the bullet had never hit her, but for the blood-stained clothes. Roz held a hand over where the wound should have been, and then looked up at Sif who stood there watching her suspiciously.

"My name is Agent Rosalind Solomon, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Who are you, and where did you come from?"

Sif stood to her full height, hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "I am Lady Sif, of Asgard, and I have come in search of Thor."

This 'Rosalind' merely raised an eyebrow, again with this response of not knowing who Thor was, or perhaps it was Asgard or her title that was confusing. When Sif had last been to Midgard, she had just been a humble Goddess. Now she was a great warrior; she liked to think one of the finest in Asgard, though there would be many who would attempt to dispute her claim. "He left Asgard years ago, with word that forces of a great evil were trying to amass more power. After all this time, he has called for aid, and I have come to rejoin his side."

"That's a lot-" Roz shook her head. "-thats a lot to process, are you talking about Thor, the Norse God of Thunder?"

Sif nodded, finally pleased that she was getting somewhere. "Aye-" Before Sif could respond further, the entire room exploded. Roz and Helen threw themselves ontop of Jackie as debris from the far wall went flying through the room. Sif spun on her heel towards the wall as it tore apart, right hand pulling her sword from its sheath. The Asgardian blade sliced effortlessly through what had once been a cabinet full of various herbs and tonics.



The Red Armoured troll roared as he tore through the wall, and he didn't stop to assess the damage. Barreling straight towards Rosalind and Helen, there was a succession of six bangs as Rosalind let loose a volley of shots from his weapon. The projectiles bounce harmlessly off the creature's armour. As he careered straight for them, Sif felt her entire body coil like a spring as she pushed off the ground; she could feel the floor crack slightly under her feet from the power of her stride as she careered into him. Leading with her shoulder. Sif felt as if she had tried to tackle an immovable object. Twisting with the momentum, she brought herself up, sliding on her feet as the behemoth stumbled slightly and looked at her with a look of utter contempt upon his face.

"You think you're tough, you think you can stop me?!" He ran towards her, swinging one of his massive fists, to which she ducked and dodged beneath. Bobbing and weaving as the next fist came careering directly for her face. "Think you can do it all do you? What makes you think you can stop me?" Sif spun her blade in her good hand as she turned, with a mighty clang it bounced off his armour without leaving anything more than a scratch. Her shock delayed her, causing her to hesitate as a giant fist collided with her and sent her flying through the window of the shop. As she picked herself up off the street, she never even noticed the fact it was quiet, and there was nobody else around.

All she heard was the thudding of heavy feet, the crunching of glass and rubble as the troll climbed out of the recently opened window. "I'm the Juggernaut, bitch. Come and have a go, if you think you're hard enough."

Sif picked up her blade, smiling as he charged at her. She swung high, dove low. Sliding between his legs, slashing at the back of them as he stumbled away. Twisting his giant arms around, he slammed into the ground, but again, she was too fast. The two entered a dance, her strikes despite her Asgardian steel bouncing harmlessly off his skin and armour. Reasoning her to believe that there must have been some kind of enchantment at play.

Though for all the harmless strikes she landed on the one who had identified himself as the 'Juggernaut' his slow and lumbering frame prevented him from landing a strike back. Given the earlier blow which had completely rattled her, Sif really didn't want to see what a single one of these strikes would do to her. He roared in frustration as he slammed his fist on the ground, knocking her off balance. "I don't have time for you, Bitch." He spat as he picked up a piece of loose road surface from where he had cracked it and threw it at her.

As she cut through the material neatly, she heard his thunderous footsteps as he powered his way down the street. Her first thought was to simply let him get away, until she started to hear the people scream. He collided with carriages, sending them flying, then she watched as he collided headfirst into a building. Then, back out the other side, slicing down with her sword she allowed her magic to pour into it and open the breach. "-Huh?" was all she heard as she braced herself in front of him; however, the force knocked the wind out of her and into a nearby wall. She saw him slow, just barely. Groaning as Sif pushed herself back to her feet she opened a new breach. Once again, stepping out before him, this time ready. Jumping to the side, she sliced, the tip of her blade making contact with his arm. He stumbled, but didn't slow.

Sweat running down her brow, as she did it again, and again. Every time she appeared, she would dodge, duck and wave. Before trying to catch the few pieces of exposed skin with her blade, she nicked and cut him. Small droplets of blood started to form on the parts of skin she had successfully hit several times. The expletives increased in their frequency and pitch. Shouting and swearing as she appeared, and disappeared just as quickly in an attempt to try and keep up with him. Until eventually she misjudged it, in the middle of the street she choked and coughed as his massive fist picked her up, stumbling himself to a halt, he held her high above his head. She could feel the immense pressure pushing down on her throat, as her sword lay dropped, forgotten and abandoned on the ground.

"I didn't come to fight, you stupid bitch. You should have just left well enough alone." He lifted her higher, and she grabbed his wrist uselessly with one hand. Attempting to claw at it, while her other hand reached for her belt. "I was just sent the Roxxon site, for their secret. I've not been paid to get rid of you, but I'm starting to think I'm going to have to- AAAAAGH!"

The small blade sliced through the skin of his hand as she forced it down, his hand opening to release her she fell to the floor and rolled, picking up her sword as she did so. He walked towards her, as she pulled herself slowly to her feet, watching him nurse and rub his hand. Sif grimaced, which turned to a smile as it turned to a low rumble in the sky above her. A familiar echo, as the sky dimmed and darkened above her. The wind stopped, and everything turned still before it picked up again from the other direction. Droplets of water started to fall from the sky, leaving small splashes on the ground as the gentle pitter-patter started to increase in tempo and power.

Sif stood once again, picking up her sword, she looked up into the sky and closing her eyes. Allowing the rain to wash over her, cooling her. The old familiar feeling, the sense of security. A smile started crawling across her face.

"What are you smiling about?" There was a flash of lightning down the street, and a figure appeared within it. "What in blazes is going on?" Sif knew that at the end of things, she could always count on him. He always allowed her to fight her own battles, face her own demons. Yet, Sif could always count on him. Her not-so-silent protector. She had come to Midgard to find him, yet he had found her.

Rex stood poised. Ready. Supporting leg back, at an angle. Feet shoulder width apart. Your muscles like a coiled spring ready to pop. The training Six gave him running through his head. Watch for the subtle shifts of his opponents, try to spot their move before they made it. Anticipate Rhodeys favourite word running through his head. Rex let his arms fall to his side, coiled into fists. He could feel his nanites, brimming with energy, and beyond that he could feel -

That can't be right.

His expression must have changed as the man before him smiled.

"You feel it don't you? Yes you're right. Everything around you, even the air is brimming with nanites." The man raised a hand and a root curled lazily out of the ground, buds appearing along its spine and turning to flowers. It curled lazily, and almost lovingly over to the mans hand. Running softly over his hands. Curling around his fingers till a large orange flower resided in his palm, and then the plant retreat almost as calmly back down through the floor and out of sight. The man twirled the flower between his thumb and forefinger, casting it into a spin it raised gently into the air and then as he released it. It floated gently, carried away by the breeze. Bobbing up and down in the air as it spun in a magnificent orange and blue.

Rex raised a cautious eyebrow. "Just who are you?" The man chuckled as he clapped his hands together, the sound echoing through the empty halls.

The figure turned around, his coat swishing out behind him and he was about to walk away, before he seemed to change his mind. "Whiplash, Biowulf. Why don't you take our other friend to the Garden? While I see to young Rex here?"

"Hang on now-" Rex started, but the Wolf-Man and Faceless man had already grabbed two of Noahs shoulders and led him down a nearby corridor. "Just who do you think you are?" Rex blustered his way directly upto the man.

The man sighed, and looked directly into his eyes. "You really don't remember me then?" Rex didn't even get a chance to answer before the man sighed, shook his head and then began again. "No matter. My name is Van Kleiss, I am leader of the pack and I have known you for a very long time. Tell me, what do you know of the nanite event?

Rex couldn't help it, in many ways he felt compelled to follow the man, as the two walked away from all the others. Deeper into the heart of the castle.

"Just what I've seen on TV, what Providence have told me-"

The scoff was audible, and full of distaste. "Providence. I wouldn't believe a word they said, if I were you."

"Well you've not really given me much more to go on dude."

An arched eyebrow in retort. "Lets rectify that then-" The man pushed over two heavyset wooden doors, leading them to a large open chamber. Machinery adjorned the walls, seemingly growing out of them. Chairs carved out of wood seemed to sprout from roots, and swayed every so slightly in the breeze that seemed to be a constant companion within the castle. A lone chair sat at the end of the room, on a slightly raised pedestal. A throne?

"What is this place?"

Van Kleiss sat on the chair. A Throne. Raising his arms as if to offer Rex the entire room. "This Rex, is where it all started. This is where the EVO was born!"

---

I am Brave.

This is the greatest lie I tell myself. As the floor rattles, my heart thunders in my hollow chest. I hold it, for fear that my heart may burst from my chest, leaving it truly empty. I try my best to remember my training, decades of training and discipline. My body is my temple, my instrument and my weapon. I release the breath I didn't know I was holding as the door opens, the Golems made from rock and stone enter the room. Their joints grind together, crumbling the stone as dust falls gently to the floor. The sound like rain. Oh, how I miss the rain. They wait, patiently. They've long given up grabbing me, manhandling me. There isn't no need, I no longer resist them. In the early days, I had, but punishment had been swift. Retribution, tenfold.

It was never on me, I was never punished for what I did. No, the others were punished. I was just made to watch, and it broke me. Broke my heart and left me like this, this shadow of myself. That shuffled before these two guards, these two I could crush like pebbles. Scatter them like ash in the wind. Instead, I moved without purpose and without guidance. I was but a tool of their bidding. What other choice did I have?

I am Daring.

The winter's sun blinds my eyes, as I raise a weak and withered arm to try and shield my eyes. Three, two - I don't even manage to count to one before I feel the thick, firm finger prod into the centre of my back. Causing the wind to rattle around my chest. There had been a time I had killed men for less, I looked longingly towards the outer walls. They had once been much shorter; instead, I had jumped them many times. I had punched my way through them several times more, me and my fellow inmates making our escape. There had been fewer of us each subsequent time. Our resolve never held, until only I was had the courage, the daring, to do what the others would not do. This was when they started punishing others.

I looked to them now, their rags and bodies tattered and torn. In my heart, I knew that I looked just as run down, just as bedraggled as each of them. Though deep down, I wished that I was the worst off. None of them met my eyes, not anymore. It was hard to tell if they understood the reason they resented me, if they knew my goal in escaping was to try and help them all. That I didn't stop because I kept getting caught, did they understand that I stopped because I could no longer risk it? When I had been punished, I didn't care. I could take it, I could take a thousand times the punishment of the others, but I couldn't take them being punished.

I am Hopeful

The screech pierces the air; it tears through me. The hair on the back of my neck, my arms and even my legs stand to attention. Stands ready, I can feel the adrenaline trying to pump its way through my body, but I fight it. I take a deep breath. The guards seem oblivious to my change of state, either that or they just don't care as I fight to bring my breathing back under control. In through the mouth One-Two. Then back out through the nose, a technique I have practised many times. In diplomatic meetings, on the battlefield and in various training and battle scenarios throughout my life. The screech again, the flutter of wings.

I will not look. I will not grant the satisfaction. I know how I got to be here. I understand the chain of events that brought an end to life as I know it, as the others knew it. It changed everything, and it is all my fault. The guards leave as they push me through a gate. I can feel my frail bones shudder at the impact. I don't give them the satisfaction of a wince, but I cannot prevent a gasp from escaping between my lips. Nobody looks up as I enter, they never do. These, like most of the others, have long ago forsaken me. I pray every day, it is through the need for self-preservation, and not through hate. If they hated me, I don't think I could bear it.

The screech again, this time closer. I look up at the owl, sat perched on the top of a guard tower. It looks directly at me, its piercing yellow eyes. I stare back, my blue eyes dull and withered. Underneath it, I hope she can see my steely resolve.

Then she does something I do not expect. She winks at me before flapping her wings and rising into the air. My truth shatters, my faith withers. Had I been wrong in my convictions this whole time? This whole time, I had been sure of my jailor, the one who punished me and those around me. Now? Now a fresh fear clawed its way through me. Squirming its way under my skin. If I had been wrong, how much did I truly know?

---

Sif spat into the paste, finishing the mixture. With two fingers, she scooped up a healthy-sized glob, and before Heather could protest, rubbed the salve into the open wound. The flesh bubbled and boiled, and the stench of burning flesh cut through the aromas of the various herbs like a knife. Heather just stared on as Sif moved her hands to clasp Jackie's shoulders. "Grab her feet before-"

Jackie screamed.

Then her entire body convulsed. Heather grabbed Jackie's legs as they thrashed and they bashed. Sif moved one arm across Jackie's chest, keeping her down, while her other han,d with the seasoned grace of a caring mother, moved beneath Jackie's head to hold it carefully to prevent it from bashing against the ground. There was a ring of a bell as the door to the shop was slowly pushed open, Heather turned to shout over her shoulder: "Sorry, we're-"

Before she could finish, a woman wearing a black jumpsuit with green stripes burst through the door, gun sweeping the room before coming to be trained on Sif's head. Sif looked up for a moment, looking at this new female warrior before returning her attention to her charge.

"Disarm and step away from the woman - Now."

Sif looked at the warrior again with ice in her eyes, seeing the gun waver. This warrior was no better than those she had previously fled; this one was inexperienced. With these new weapons, the mortals had, which made her dangerous.

"This woman has been harmed by your own Guardsmen and Warriors. I will step away when her life is no longer at risk, and only then." The newcomer looked to Heather, who nodded a little uneasily. The weapon lowered slightly as Sif returned her attention to the wound. The flesh continued to sizzle, and Jackie continued to convulse until the flesh around the wound started to shift and move.

Jackie's scream became a shriek as slowly but surely, the bullet was forced from her body, as if her body were rejecting it. Sif relaxed her hold as she felt the body beneath her go limp, the screaming stopped and her entire body relaxed. Sif smiled down at Jackie as her eyes opened, a strange look crossed her face. Something akin to disappointment as she reached out with what little strength she had for Sif's hand. Sif grasped the womans hand as gently as possible, smiling a soft, caring smile.

A sadness travelled up to Jackies eyes. "I wasn't ^{_{exactly honest with you about Thor, in the facility there is the axe.}}"

The blades of grass rustled in the calm breeze, as the cool night time air crawled lazily around them. The moisture from the day hung heavy, and close. Occasionally there was a splash from the pond as a fish breached the glass like surface in an attempt at a midnight snack. They breathed together, as one. Connected by their hands in this shared moment, fingers intertwined. Slow and deliberate, a peace unbreakable. A moment frozen in time. He looked at her, and all he could see was the silhouette of her face. As if she was part of the Earth and the heavens themselves, the tip of her nose and the curve of her lips. He studied every millimetre of it.

Then there were her eyes. Usually the most azure blue, cool and calm. They were alive with life, letting a contended breathe escaped him he followed their gaze. The heavens opened up before him, the vastness of space as the Milkyway and the cosmos beyond opened up for him. The spectrum of colours danced across the night sky, but the night was not calm. It was alive, as streaks of golden yellow light raced across the sky. Something so violent as a meteor shower transformed into something truly beautiful.

Held in this moment, he felt her hand squeeze his. Three times, in a slow rhythmic pulse. Three words. Shared, but not spoken. The risk of breaking the spell was too great. He returned the sentiment, squeezing once. I. Squeezing twice. Love. Squeezing a third time. You.

There was nothing. His hand balled into a fist around the thin air, the warmth now gone. The cold clawed its way, burrowing itself deeper and deeper into its skin. The wind howled as dark clouds blotted out the sky. He sat up, looking for where she was supposed to be. Where she had always been, his hand running over the blanket chasing the warmth. The soft woolen blanket turned coarse. Pain shot up his arm as the angry fabric began to tear through his skin, his mind flared with the agony and the pain but he persisted. Pushed harder, as the blanket became cooler and cooler till only one spot of warmth remained. With all his might he pushed -

and the Earth opened up and swallowed him whole.

The cold air hit Frank like a brick. His entire body siezed from the shock of the cold air entering his lungs as he gasped for air, through the pain he savoured it. As if it was his first, his eyes slowly adjusting to his surroundings. The sense of dread, of panic slipped away from his mind with the remaining grogginess of sleep. The sorrow however, the sorrow remained. An eternal scar, running deep. Reaching over to the coffee table, he lifted the mug of ice-cold coffee and without a seconds hesitation raised it to his lips and forced it down.

The bitter liquid easing the dryness out of his throat, but adding a momentary spike of pain in his head. The pain was good, the pain let him know he was alive. He was concious, that this was the real world. Swinging his legs off the edge of the sofa he groaned as he rubbed his face with his hand, his joints were stiff and sore. As if they rebelled against this notion of leaving the blanket, of his feet touching the cold and hard floor of the cabin. A thin smile crossed Franks face as he heard the telltale pitter patter of little feet, followed by the wet nose against his palm before the silky smooth bump as Dog nuzzled his hand, brushing up against his legs.

Frank allowed himself a moment to pat Dog on the side, saving the sensation of touching something warm and alive. A scratch behind the ear and they both stood up, he did it slightly more unceremoniously. Grunting as he did so, allowing himself a moment to stretch. Stretching his muscles along his spine as he reached into the air, vertibrates cracking and popping as he did so. Dog did the same before moving over to his food bowl, and sitting before it in his attempt at subtlety. Frank shuffled over, picking up his plate from the previous night and poured probably unhealthy portions of salisbury steak into the bowl on the floor. Giving Dog a pat on the head as he placed the plate in the pile by the sink. He had never wanted a Dog. They had wanted a dog. Frank would never allow it.

Oh things were too unstable, or they were about to move home, or were they really responsibile enough to have a dog?

All the stupid reasons. The reasons that didn't matter anymore. So when Dog had visited him that day, when his life was at an end - Well. Dog had made that decision for both of them, the reasons didn't really matter anymore.

The early morning sun glistened, glare shining in the faces off the gathered congregation from the sodden sidewalks and asphalt from last nights rain. The air was full of life, the vegetation vibrant. It contrasted with the mood that hung over the crowd, men and women of all shapes and sizes wearing black. Suits, dresses, uniforms. Some within the crowd while wearing formal wear, wore a mask on their face. The heroes who didn't feel comfortable being public with their identity, despite the time of day the nearby blocks seemed to hold their breathe out of respect for those in mourning. A podium stood at the far end of the congregation, one statue among many. The sheet concealed its identity, though there was no doubt who was beneath the sheet.

Albert stood away from the main group. He could see William playing the politician going around, smiling sadly and shaking hands. Matilda was huddled together with a few of her friends, his father was... nowhere to be seen but he'd likely be rehearsing his speech. Whether or not a fallen hero was Vanguard, every memorial in the park was unveiled with a speech from the regional chief. Always playing politics, a skill William was learning well-

"You're looking well."

Albert didn't turn to react. Everything about today had him on the verge of tears, he had a lot of respect for Saw. A lot of time for him, he was the kind of person you could always call on the phone at anytime day or night, and was always willing to help.

"Thankyou Mother." Mother. God he hated himself, none of this was her fault. She had chosen his father, his abilities and his life. It's not her fault Albert had come along and defied the norm, been shunned and grew apart from his father. Not her fault how things went that day. He turned to look at her, trying to offer her his best sympathetic smile. "You're uh, you're looking good too." He looked down at her feet, his eyes hidden by his glasses, and closed his fist as he saw his shadow reaching out for hers. No.

"I hope you're looking after yourself, Matilda says you're keeping busy."

"I'm doing my best to help people."

He felt the warmth of her hand on his shoulder, and he had to fight the urge to lift his hand to take hers in his own. To fold in and accept her embrace, but he had made his choice and he wouldn't drag her into the middle of anything. That wouldn't be fair.

"You're a good man Albert-" There was a polite round of applause up ahead, as a figure walked out and upto the podium. His father.

"You should go."

She swallowed, and nodded sadly. As she stepped away her hand dropped away from his shoulder, and he wished that just for a moment more that the warmth would stay. That the contact wouldn't be broken, but it was better this way.

---

Karl stood atop the podium, his suit practically glistened in the sun. What little hair he had was cut, trimmed and well maintained. The crowd applauded politely was he walked up to the podium, and then a hush spread throughout the crowd. "A hero is no braver than an ordinary man." He paused, and took a breathe for a second. "They are just brave for five minutes longer." Karl looked back towards the statue hiding underneath the cover.

"If your average hero is braver for five minutes. Saw Chaw had enough bravery for five days." Karls eyes watered, as he placed his hands on either side of the podium as if to steady himself. "I worked with Saw for years. We met in costume-" He shook a head and chuckled to himself "-Such as it was back in those days. We all remember the eighties." A low polite chuckle rumbled steadily through the crowd. He let it have a lap before he started again. "I don't think there is a single person in this city who hasn't been affected by Mountain. Everyone remembers his decade long fued with the killer Darksaber, and the weight that was lifted from our shoulders when he finally brought him to justice. He's raised more funds for more charities in this city than anyone else, Everyday Heroes Cente in Steel Acres is a hub not just of civic pride, but national pride...."

The speech was long, but nobody complained. The murmurs were kept to a minimum, nobody disrespected the memories being mentioned. The heroics, the past saves. Karl spoke for about ten minutes, but then he was replaced by other heroes. Protegés, allies. Several reformed villains and criminals who testified to Saws kindness and patience in not just dumping them at jail, but then visiting them and personally helping them through their rehabilitation. Until eventually an old man, walking with a stick under one arm and being held up by a young man in his thirties who boasted a resemblence to Saw.

The younger man grabbed the line, and then handed it to the older man who smiled the kind of sweet older smile that had seen a lot of mileage. Karl returned to the micophone. "This is Aleks Seryy. Over sixty years ago his life was saved by Saw, and who better to reveal his memorial to the world?" Karl stood back, and clear of the shot. Nodding politely at Aleks, who pulled the line.

Cameras flash, and polite applause rippled through the crowd as once more Saw Chaw. The man known as the Mountain stood in the sun, his eternal virgil begun.

The office was a bastion of organised chaos. Clothes thrown haphazardly over a sofa across the far wall, a pillow and blankets presence hinted that the occupier often slept in this room. Boards all over the wall had clippings from various news articles, each board a different point of focus, various colours of yarn were used to link seemingly unrelated and unconnected articles. Albert ignored all of this, however. He even ignored the scattering of paper, or the tower of tea-stained mugs atop his desk. The computer that was wheezing and whining, old when he bought it and never intended to being run as non-stop as he was pushing it. Instead his attention was drawn to an old CRT television that sat atop a small table whose legs looked as if they were begging for help.

Across the screen was an image of a greying-balding man, in a nice suit and with a charming smile. The ticker underneath the broadcast read THE HERO KNOWN AS BEACON BECOMES PUBLIC IN WAKE OF NEW APPOINTMENT. Albert scowled at the man. The public face, the facade. It wasn't easy being angry and bitter towards a glorified hero, if you asked anyone in the city who one of the most influential and active Vanguard heroes had been in Calder over the last thirty or so years, a good percentage of them would say Beacon.

Albert still managed to be angry and bitter, he was just that good.

The voice of Jimmy Kent, widely regarded as the top reporter in the state, came out the aging speakers. "So we have to ask, Mr Lichtenstein, why now?" The microphone was passed, and a very calm and reassuring voice came out. Each word carried weight, you could feel the thought behind them. As would be expected from a man who had been coached, and taught how to give out inspirational speeches like candy on halloween.

"Yeah Dad, why now? Why after all this time-?"

"The time was right. As I move into the position as Regional Chief, I felt like it was only right that the public should know who I am. If I had performed the role as Beacon, then there would be questions-"

"Such as who really is he, and how can he trust him if he can't trust us?"

"Exactly that Jimmy."

Albert snorted. "Yes, and it has nothing to do with the fact that your predecessor announced her identity and went on to use that political influence to go on and become mayor. Nothing-at-all."

"Well, you've maintained a secret identity for years despite rumours and hints at what it could be, how does your family feel about this?"

"That's a good question Jimmy, how does your family feel about this Dad?"

A happy smile crossing his face. "You ready for a scoop Jimmy?"

A faint rustling, likely as Jimmy sat himself up straighter. "Always."

"I can confirm that Mirage, is my son William and that the hero known as Shutter is my daughter Matilda."

"Anyone else?"

"I have a second son, but he's long moved away under an assumed name and I shall respect his decision."

"I'm just surprised I got an honourable mention-"

Before Albert heard what was said next there was a crack that sounded like thunder, the screens and lights around him flickered momentarily before there was a great flash of light. Albert screwed his eyes closed, though he could still see the light through his eyelids. The light filled the entire room, the shadows retreating away twisting and contorting.

"I see you're keeping up with the news."

Albert scoffed and pointed the remote at the television angrily, turning it off.

"You know, I didn't tell you where I lived just so you could drop on whenever you felt like it."

Matilda flashed him a cheerful smile, he flashed her a frown in retort. She waved it away, dropping herself unceremoniously onto the sofa. Pulling out fork and throwing it away. "Come on now, I just came to make sure you were ready." Albert allowed to let his scowl to falter, a brief look of pain and guilt crossing his face.

"I can't believe he's really gone."

"Yeah-"

"You know he's not the only-"

She raised a hand to stop him, he went to continue though the resolution in her eyes stopped him from pushing any farther.

"Okay then, lets go." Albert stood up, twisting his long gray jacket around himself as he did so. "Lets go say goodbye to the Mountain."