Unknown

by Unknown

  Peter showed up around midnight, in full uniform no less.

  ‘Come. We will celebrate your Grandfather’s life by doing what he loved.’

  I’m pretty sure the thick accent was a put-on, but even though the man’s old enough to retire to a quiet life wherever he pleases he still cuts an impressive figure, and he’s kept his Colors in pristine condition.

  The night was slow, but there were places the two of us proved useful in keeping the peace. Underground fighting. Normally I turn a blind eye, especially when I know the people running the things enforce rules to limit how bloody they get. It’s the ones like we saw that involve weapons or ‘to the death’ that get my attention. No really I try a calm rational approach before things get messy to see if at least a few people will see sense and find somewhere else to be. There that night though we’d told them to either leave, or they would be made to leave, and we didn’t care which. Even with the sort of extraordinary healing, tolerances, strength, and such taking on a room full of testosterone junkies in a confined space isn’t what either of us would consider smart fighting.

  Between the two of us we had the room cleared in maybe five minutes, possibly less. Normally I’d feel bad for anyone who I actually hurt. It’s generally better if I can incapacitate without permanently laming or otherwise compromising someone, but nobody would die because of our untidiness. Peter made calls both to Winston PD and to a few of the closer hospitals. Can’t be sure but I think Mercer Medical was closest, or maybe Julie Ann Memorial. Both were called before we left.

  Before the night was over we hit a burning building, working with Winston’s Bravest so they could focus on the fire while we looked for anyone trapped inside. Of the people we helped direct out only one needed more than a quick pointer on which way was out and I let Peter carry him out while I made sure it hadn’t spread. Bless whoever invented those oxygen masks. That would have been far more difficult with people dying in the process if they hadn’t lent us a pair.

  We called it a night after that. I was tired, Peter was exhausted, and we both had a flight to catch in a couple hours. M knows I’ll be gone, and though they and the rest of the department will miss me they understand.

  Typing all this while on the way to the airport. Police escort, people lining the streets. There’s a good number of homemade banners and signs. You’d think I’d done something to deserve the attention. Not sure who told them, or why. Things won’t be quite the same when I get back, but I left my gear in good hands.

  GUIDING LIGHTS.

  It was all over pretty much every network. I will spare you with details you’re already familiar with. Perhaps he would have said he’d rather the national attention to the causes he championed and his want for people to come together on this grand a scale to have happened before he died, but I’m sure he would have been happy with the memorial service. All in all I feel it was done tastefully. Was actually somewhat caught off guard that so many from his old unit are gone.

  The words I said were not quite the ones I wanted to say. They were true words spoken from the heart, but it was only part of what I wanted to say. So here goes with the rest of it.

  His life has touched so many for so long that it’s hard to believe he’s gone. I grew up with this man and saw the flaws and failings that he tried to keep from the public eye and, I believe, everyone has tried to quietly dismiss as hearsay and black propaganda.

  When I started dating he took me off to one side to give me The Talk. I suppose everyone gets this talk when they first figure out girls aren’t icky. Hold open doors and such. His Talk also went into things he Never Ever wanted me to do. One of these was dating ‘those kinds of people.’ I can already hear the uproar this will cause and ask everyone to just settle down. He had the greatest respect for people of any creed or color, far more than many from his generation were brought up to have. That upbringing was bigoted, backward, and even though he often rose above it there were some things that had been so ingrained in him that they were a part of him.

  Skip ahead to my Senior Prom. I was scared out of my mind because my date, a wonderful and intelligent woman who is still in my life, broke one of these Unbreakable Rules. I couldn’t lie to the man, and had gotten away with things up until that point both by luck and not bringing the matter to his attention. Unfortunately he was going to be our escort that night and at first when he saw her I thought he was going to scream, shout, throw things, or even try hurting either of us. What he did was worse. He broke down and cried. Until that point I bought into the idea nothing could hurt him and seeing this big immovable and supposedly unbreakable man torn in half by my hands hurts, and will always hurt. He wouldn’t have anything to do with me months after, and even when we were on speaking terms again he refused to acknowledge that my relationship had ever happened or anything about that night.

  He was flawed. Even though he was physically so much more than the rest of us that made him more than the legend that has grown around him. It made him Human.

  He used to bring doughnuts every Saturday when I was little, enough for me and the gaggle of kids from the neighborhood. It was one of those things that always happened and it was before I found out about who he was and what he’d done. Years later after I’d found out about my own gifts and was still trying to come up with a way to cope. I asked him how he had managed to not crack under the strain. He looked at me, I will always remember that moment, and grinned. “It’s the little things really. Remember those doughnuts I used to get?” I nodded, but he never finished. At the time I was puzzled, but it was one of those things that really didn’t need to be said. Those small acts of normalcy will be what I remember most when I try thinking of the bright spots in his life.

  To me he wasn’t just Commander Justice. He’s my grandfather, and I miss him.

  What else needs to be added to that? What more needs saying? This is the last time I will bring the matter up in this place. my grief is my own. Just glad they’ll honor his wishes and scatter his ashes through Arlington. He had always considered the ground there sacred beyond anything he could either add to or take away from and he wanted no single monument there, no one spot that would be favored above those that already are or will be buried there. There is talk of putting a monument to him in the Washington Mall. That is something I will oppose at every step if it becomes more than rumor on the winds. He accepted becoming a national symbol only in the dark days of World War Two. After that he tried to differ much of his fame, deserved or otherwise, to those that didn’t have his... gifts ...yet still jumped headlong into harm’s way. I think if the War hadn’t happen he would have done everything he could to remain little more than a local fixture.

  Because my father refused to attend they gave me the flag they draped over his coffin.

  BACK TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING.

  Well, I’m not back to normal. It will be a long time before that happens, but the world does not stop, and sadly neither does crime. M and several others from Winston’s Finest met me at the gate when I returned. After the small talk was done they had my van waiting for me. They wanted me to meet at the usual place after the press conference. It seemed now that the rest of the country knew who I was related to, somebody had already sent out a death threat.

  Few things cut through grief like anger, and I’m not going to stand for people wanting to kill me on account of a grudge they might have had with my granddad. Worse, there’s talk, when they think I’m not listening, of trying to get me to leave town ‘for the safety and welfare of the general public.’ The sentiment is understandable, especially if this threat’s from someone that thinks they can take me. It’s often joked that the Air Force measured just how destructive their bombs were by seeing how much they could make my granddad flinch. Sure I’m tough, but I’ll be the first one to admit I’m not that tough.

  I will tell the world now what I told it an hour ago. I Will Not Bow Down. To run and hide now means whoever’s behind this will always have some s
ort of handle on me they can twist to make me step aside whenever they please. I don’t like the idea that just being somewhere might endanger people, so I’m going to remove that danger now by finding whoever this is and make them go away. To that end I’m working with several agents the FBI are going to send to asses the threat and do the sorts of detailed work that I’m just not trained for.

  It will take time for that to happen, and since all work with no play makes Max Go Crazy I’m calling my lady friend for a quiet night of movies and maybe we’ll slide into Worlds of Wonder a bit to finally finish out my Necromancer’s Staff of Vile Deeds. Don’t give me that look. I have a stressful job; I’m allowed to goof off now and then.

  I’m not, for the record, the only ‘Mask’ that uses that place to blow off steam. In fact It could almost be thought of as an online gathering spot for those from my generation. I will neither confirm nor deny the rumors concerning who controls which characters. Generally though it’s my experience that most of my peers do the same stunt I do; get billing details routed through NSA and have them act as a designated go-between like any other matter that leaves a paper trail anyone with the brains and time to follow.

  After all why not? I’m not a big fan of the national registry, but my granddad endorsed the idea even after he’d become bitterly opposed to everything else Government related. My dad and several others that have interests in keeping the thing from abuse is on the committee that has direct oversight of the thing. It’s not the best solution, and if anyone wants to discuss the matter further leave comments or email me. To sum up though it acts as a layer of protection when someone’s trying to figure out which costume belongs to which person.

  Back to what I was saying about Worlds of Wonder. I’m actually in a Guild that only allows known Masks to join. Everything’s on the up and up and I trust the group, mostly because I’m one of the founding members and we make it a point to check to make sure people are who they claim they are before letting them join. Why? The place gives us somewhere we can relax, talk shop, and get to know each other a little better without having to go gather at some weekend retreat in Middle of Nowhere USA.

  Mostly because I feel like it, and because I cleared this one with everyone ahead of time I’ll let you in on a little something. The founding members are Lucky Quickdraw, Sarah Speed, Black Hornet, Billy Brick, Zeus, Hiro, Mister Miracle, and Anvil. After that first batch I’d have to look at the rolls to make sure I haven’t left anyone out, and I’m not going to claim everyone who’s a fe llow Mask goes there to pal around, but I like to think just those eight names, plus myself, should give the wider world some idea of how far flung we are. Sure there’s Social networking, and I’m not the only Mask to keep a blog, but the place gives us a chance to meet more or less face to face on matters.

  Between one quest or another Zeus brought up the fact I’d never let them in on who I was related to. I brushed it off, I mean why bother? I am not my grandfather and I wanted to make my own identity without benefit or burden of his shadow hanging over me. Sarah stepped in after Zeus went quiet and tried saying they weren’t mad, that even with the similarities in what the two of us could do it just blew everyone’s heads wide open that one of their own was related to The_Legend. Maybe I could have gotten him to speak to everyone from our generation to try giving us some advice and perspective. So I had to tell them, and the rest of the guild that was there, that he hadn’t really done public or even privet appearances in years. Either because of age or his declining health had made him afraid that if anyone had seen him so reduced might have crushed whatever credibility he had built up.

  As a consolation I told everyone I’d see if I could get Comrade Peter to open up a few days on his calendar. That seemed to brighten the mood back up enough that we blew through Anvil’s request to hunt Loremaster. Hard run to make even with a full party, but we managed it. Pity he didn’t drop the Occult Amulet of Mechanical Control. That was the main reason we’d gone to the trouble of going, but at least Anvil managed to get another level on his summoner.

  After that everyone was burned out and ready to call it a night, or in some cases Day. Several of them messaged me to let me know that they’d heard about the hit that’d been called out on me through a general bulletin sent to everyone on The Registry. Each promised they’d let me know if they found out anything relevant to the matter before leaving. Strange, mine must still be in my inbox.

  TALENT NIGHT: TAKE TWO.

  After leaving my lady friend’s home I started to follow up on a few things from Lucy’s. Why not? Police are still ‘encouraged’ to make it a low priority, and I can’t let somebody that wants to go head hunting keep me from doing my job. First on my list is Enrique Entitlement’s home. Pity I can’t outright say who the guy is, but people like that tend to get all lawsuit happy when people like me try telling the world what they’ve been up to. I know they’re watching my blog so I’ll make my feelings plain. You People Disgust Me. Making a mockery of how the justice system works does not make me very sympathetic to any sort of genuine problems you might be facing. Ah well. Innocent until proven Guilty has it’s flaws, but it’s our system and I’ll back it for all I’ve got.

  Now, with that out of the way back to the night’s doings. Prettyboy Pete likes his house. In fact he likes it so much he regularly invites hundreds of his friends over to party. Can’t exactly blame him really, what with security being better than going out, and it being less likely his face will end up in the papers. People like him generally don’t let just anyone into their parties, but I’m sure he’ll make an exception for me

  Time to break out the fresh suit, one that doesn’t have all the little nicks scratches, claw marks, burned spots, and other unsightly things. Cape or no cape? Usually I don’t, because they snag and get caught on all sorts of things. Even the break-away clasps don’t help all that much. Yet I figure why not, it goes with the outfit and all.

  After the drive there, and calling M to reassure him all I’m doing is looking around, I pretty well made everyone’s eyebrows shoot up eight notches. They let me in. What, you thought those pictures in the paper were doctored? I declined drinks but decided that I liked the music enough to mingle with the crowd. Pretty sure the videos all through the Internet don’t convey just how wierded out everyone was of me, in full uniform, dancing.

  Roughly an hour into my stay I was approached by two very large, and probably very drunk, people trying to make me pick a fight with both of them. I like to think I’m pretty restrained and calm. Yet both decided to hit below the belt and kept going on about how I’m only allowed to work because my granddad pulled strings. Their words were more colorful and more detailed, but that’s what it all amounted to. I told them to go sleep it off, they didn’t know what they were trying to do, and finally I just started walking off. I wasn’t there for a fight, and I’m we ll aware at how bad it would look if the morning news showed clips of me busting the place up.

  They followed me, and then started making trouble for other people. Finally I just couldn’t ignore them anymore so I let both of them hit me. I don’t like it when people do that, because even though it didn’t hurt I don’t want to have to stop for every boozed up tough guy wanting to make a name for himself by breaking my nose.

  Only after they started swinging did security show. I waved them away and while the two were nursing sore (and possibly broken) knuckles I grabbed both of them and walked them out the door. I told them if they wanted I’d call a cab. Their replies were incoherent, likely vulgar, and I called anyway just to keep them from stinking up the rest of the evening.

  When I got back inside Mr. Moneybags greeted me at the door, complimented me on handing what might have otherwise been a rough situation, and apologized for how his friends treated me. I waved the compliment off and we got to the business of small talk. This ended up leading to my family and the obligatory condolences on his part and my steering to somewhat safer or at least more relevant matters of my work. Bit of a ris
k to tip my hand and let the man know that his name had sprung up in connection to a few thefts a couple weeks back, but I couched it in terms of trying to figure out if he was a victim of identity theft, or if he had any enemies that wanted to remove him from the public’s good will.

  Come to think of it that very well could be what’s going on here. I asked Benny BigBucks to start looking through his expenses, phone records, Everything. Because the Police are somewhat hampered in the matter I couldn’t ask him to hand over copies, but I did hint that it might be easier on him if he let me have a looksee. Believe it or not he agreed, under the condition that this remain strictly off the record, no media or police involvement. Very hush hush and all. We shook on it and I told him I would be back around lunch for these documents.

  Maybe a bit naive on my part to trust him, but I can’t blindly follow my gut when matters aren’t clear cut with somebody’s hand in the proverbial piggy bank. Better to show a little caution than to end up with my name in the headlines along with the words ‘disgraced’ ‘false accusations’ or ‘under investigation.’ My gut says there’s more going and even if Danny Dollarsigns is being scammed his hands aren’t entirely clean.

  When I got within sight of my van I saw somebody there waiting for me. He was Big, Green, and he was carrying, of all things, an ax. Said ax had been, from what I could tell, used to cut through the engine and cab of my van. Fine. I suppose this meant I’ve come face to face with the guy that wanted to kill me. He turned from my van and sprung at me. What. no witty banter? No denouncement for what I’d done to him? Sorry Charlie. None of that. I had something or someone bounding at me with apparent violent intent.

  I won’t bother describing the fight, both because I don’t rightly remember most of the details, and my head still hurts from where I got hit with a phone pole. He’s at least as strong and tough as I am. I gave as good as I got, I think, and he ended up running for it when the sun started coming up. Strange. Don’t know if he’d turn to stone if hit by stray sunbeams or if he’s merely really sensitive to light, but I’m just going to call him Troll from now on.