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	There was no such thing as cities anymore. Hadn't been for nearly 
thirty years. Instead, humanity lives in sprawling metropolis' Huge, 
gleaming towers of glass and steel soaring upwards towards the heavens 
and creating canyons in which vehicles moved people from one to the 
other in a stately, orderly fashion as computerized traffic control 
ensured a smooth, if slow, journey.

	Cronikle City was no exception and one side of it's tallest tower 
was a huge TV, broadcasting the news from Channel seventy-five, which 
also happened to be in the building. The newcaster was literally, a 
talking head, a computer generated person crafted to appeal to as many 
people as possible, reading off the news in crisp, brisk tones, 
attempting to hold on to the ever decreasing attention span of the 
average viewer.

	"And in national news today, clean-up efforts continue in Neo New 
Crystal City following its destruction by gravbomb amid efforts by the 
Hero Legion to recapture Metaterrorist Bolshavar. Bolshavar had 
threatened the destrucution of the Eastern Coast with a massive tidal 
wave and reportedly commiteded suicide rather then be captured by Legion 
members.

	The Legion also announced that Jagged Edge, a former partner of 
Legion leader Golden Gaurdian and protector of Cronikle City was killed 
in the battle. Jagged Edge was a founding member of Team Sentinel and 
considered one of the Legion's most powerful members. In a statement at 
Legion headqaurters Geneva, Legion second in command Cassandra paid 
tribute to the fallen hero."

	Cassandra was a tall woman with short, white-blond hair, with only 
a few lines around her eyes to indicate her age. "Jagged Edge was a 
credit to the Legion and to humanity, which he labored tirelessly to 
aid. His exploits and achievements are legendary and we will miss him. 
His sacrfice is a sober reminder to humans and metas alike of the 
dangers that face us all."

	The head came back. "Despite Cassandra's words, rumors continue 
that Jagged Edge was not killed but instead led away in chains. There 
are also claims that staff from meta-prision S.L.A.B. was summoned to 
the Legion's moon base implant a supression chip. S.L.A.B. declined 
comment, but observers say that this confirms whispers from unidentified 
civilan Legion members that Jagged Edge allowed Bolshavar to trigger the 
gravbomb.

	Astrofly, one of several protectors of Neo Atlantis, made several 
public appearances in Cronikle, and in a brief interview with News 
seventy-five, indicated that he has taken over protection of our fair 
city.
	
	In local news, excavations have begun on a new Voldianan artifact, 
the largest fragment yet of the alien craft that exploded in Earth orbit 
thirty-five years ago and in doing so, gave birth to the meta 
population. Legion member Doctor Flash is assisting in the excavation 
and it's expected that the Legion will take posession of the fragment.

	We turn now to Tom Flodell for sports. Tom?"

******

Aeon City, five years later...

	It wasn't the first time that James Clancy had had a knife held to 
his throat, but it was the first time he had woken up to it. The knife 
was being held by a muscular young woman whose clear black eyes showed 
that she was rather fond of Jovian Steroids.

	Without even blinking, James snatched her wrist and poked her in 
the neck with two fingers. Her knife fell from her suddenly useless 
hand. Poking her in the neck again, he shoved her off the bed. Sitting 
up, he felt around but found no blood. He tossed the knife away and 
looked down at his attacker as memory of the night before came back. Not 
attacker, the prostitute he had picked up last night. She was easily six 
six, with large, firm breasts. Her hair shimmered like white gold and 
she was smoothly, flawlessly muscled.

	"Marla, wasn't it? You always greet your marks like that in the 
morning?" he asked.

	"Yeah. Figured I could pick up some freebies."

	"You mean stick me and then clean out my supply," James retorted. 
He got up and crossed the room to the kitchen unit. "Coffee?"

	In the smooth metal of the unit, he watched Marla shrug. "Bodies 
like mine aint cheap," she said.

	"So I recall. Ten ounces, eight up front," he noted and handed her 
a chipped cup.

	"You always this nice to people who try to kill you?" Marla asked.

	He grinned at her. "Only the pretty ones. Wanna use the shower 
before you leave?"

	She drained the mug. "Sure, why not?"

	Once she was in the shower and occupied with getting clean, James 
walked over to the bookcase and diddled with the back, causing a small 
compartment to open. From there, he took two small objects that looked 
like clear black jewels. These he placed in a small bag and held it up 
to the light.

	Jovian Steroids. Most potent steroid known to man. Disease 
immunity, the body of dreams, enhanced intellegence, strength, and 
reflexes. Meta-powers in a bottle, so to speak.

	Of course, the human body was never meant to be altered like that. 
Cut off the supply, and the user did a biological implosion, wasting 
away into a puddle of goo. Used carefully and rationally, however, and 
the user could live a long life of fifty years or so beyond normal life 
expentantcy.

	"And then they break down into goo," James quipped to himself. 
Retrieving his coffee, he looked around the room. The paint was peeling, 
the battered climate control system was slowly dying, and the decor was 
spartan. In one corner, neatly stacked, was his only vice, the one 
luxury he allowed himself. Puzzle discs. Each one full of word games, 
logic puzzles, and the like. Then he looked out the window and caught 
sight of his reflection. It showed a lean, athletic young man in his 
early twenties with dark hair and a huge tattoo on the right shoulder. 
He frowned. Not to long ago, that image would have been covered with a 
black full bodysuit. A single jagged silver slash across his chest from 
shoulder to hip would be his symbol.

	Not too long ago, that image...that ghost would have dumped his ass 
in jail for dealing in Jovian Steroids, small time or not.

	Not too long ago, James Clancy would have sooner shot himself then 
screw a prostitute.

	With a snarl of fustration, he hurled his coffee cup at the window, 
but it only bounced off and smashed on the floor.

	"Something wrong?" Marla asked as she emerged from the shower.

	"Bad memory," James said. He handed her the bag and a small cred 
note. "A tip. Go buy yourself something nice."

	Marla tucked the steroids and the note into her small cloth purse, 
which was decorated with a small butterfly brooch, dressed, and walked 
to the door. "You know something," she said, "you're the first mark 
who's gotten me off in two years. Thanks." Then she was gone.

	James smiled at that and stepped into the shower.

******
That night...

	James sighed as he unwrapped the soy dog and bit into it. Only the 
best imitation food for the chronically poor. Which was what he would be 
if he couldn't sell some of the stuff. He had close to thirty ounces in 
his pocket, and not one customer. He had even made the rounds to some of 
his regulars and they hadn't been interested.
	
	The rent was due tomorrow, hell of a time to have a slow day. He 
glanced up at the moon, hanging low in the sky. Towards the bottom of 
that luminous sphere, a small silver eye. James knew better, that eye 
was actually the size of Aeon City. That eye used to be his home. The 
Hero Legion's main headqaurters, a watchful eye watching over us all, or 
so the saying went.

	He stuck out his tounge at the eye and finished his soy dog.

******
	James took the long way home, through Aeon's warehouse district. He 
whistled what sounded like a meaningless ditty, but was actually a 
signal to anyone listening who might be interested in some of his 
wares...of which he still hadn't sold a single ounce.

	When his foot kicked something, he glanced down and saw a butterfly 
brooch lying on the walk. Crouching, he picked it up. This looked an 
awful lot like Marla's brooch. She must have dropped it. He turned the 
brooch over in his hands and frowned, the pin was stuck through a small 
swatch of fabric. As though it had been torn off.

	'You're not in the game anymore,' his inner voice insisted. 
'Besides, even if the brooch is hers, she probably just got a frisky 
mark. Go swing by the bar you met her at. She's probably there.'

	James stood, but for some reason, gazed at the nearby warehouses. 
The chip may have turned him into a human, but the Golden Gaurdian had 
taught his young partners to be observant and that skill was not 
something the chip could take. Within moments, he saw the ever so faint 
glow at one of the windows. Had he not been looking for something, he 
would have missed it.

	'It's just a watchman burning the candle,' his inner voice said. 
'Or someone forgot to shut off something.'

	But James' feet were already carrying him across the yard.

******
	It had taken some looking around and the chance finding of a 
crowbar, but James found an open window that he could pull himself 
through.

	The warehouse appeared to have been a printing plant at some point. 
There was massive amounts of machinery and rolls of paper. Using the 
sides like a ladder, he clambered up to the top and took his bearings.

	The faint glow that had attracted his attention was coming from the 
far side of the room and James headed for it.


	The source of the glow turned out to be a bank of monitors and a 
steel circle around a circle of glowing blue light. A ramp led up into 
the light and strapped to a chair at it's foot was Marla. She wore a 
blue coverall and her expression was terrified. Two people in lab coats 
were checking the straps while a thin, weasel faced man dressed in black 
worked at the monitors.

	James shook himself to loosen up and then took a firm grip on the 
crowbar. With any luck he could get Marla out in one go. Picking up a 
card sized piece of metal, he hurled it away where it clanged as it 
bounced off something.

	Without even reacting, the two men stood and walked off into the 
shadows, pulling hand lasers from under their coats. Lab assitants and 
hired muscle in one. How economical.

	Charging from the shadows, he hurled the crowbar not at the man in 
black, but at the machinery behind him. As the man blinked, James 
vaulted over the edge of the montiors and planted his foot in the man's 
chest. Taking only a moment to verify that the man was out cold, James 
scooped up the crowbar and walked over to Marla.

	"Lonley again?" she asked him with a small smile.

	James shrugged and started prying at the fasteners with the bar. "I 
like work by someone who takes pride in what they do."

	She laughed at that. "It wasn't my first choice."

	"Neither was my current profession," James said bitterly as he went 
to work on the strap around her waist. There was a flash of golden light 
and James' ribs felt like they'd been hit with a sledgehammer. He 
collapsed on Marla's lap. The toes of his boots dragged along the ramp 
and then he was falling.

-Steve "Komodo" T.
http://livejournal.com/users/pandoras_closet
http://aberdawnknights.keenspace.com



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