Jean-Luc stood back from the wall and lifted his welding goggles, eyeing his handiwork. The pipes would hold now; damp in the warehouse would be cut down considerably as a result. He turned down the oxy-acet and cleared up his tools. The whole place was coming along nicely - it still looked pretty industrial but it was how Jean-Luc liked it; exposed brickwork and piping, stripped wooden floors, massive fans in the high walls. The furniture had been intact and rodents had been kept out rather well.
Jean-Luc had realised the old place had originally been Ragefang's; it had been a bit of a shock to realise he was walking in his old mentor's room, like living with a ghost he couldn't quite see or feel. He wasn't certain if that relieved him or made him feel worse, but after a while, he'd coped with the idea and settled in. He'd had to replace wiring and some of the equipment was old and outdated - Jean-Luc didn't even know what a floppy drive was and had no idea what he'd been looking at when he tried to make heads or tails out of Ragefang's computer - but things were shaping up. For the most part, Jean-Luc left the decorations as they were, but for the addition of quite a few plants - he was very fond of plants and loved their bright-green-gold smell - and a few trophies he'd "acquired" on various arrests and hunts.
After raiding the fridge (stocked with nothing but red meat, which Jean-Luc ate raw), Jean-Luc sat down, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out the small, battered book which he was never without. He'd managed to reach security level 24, but he hadn't read anything further - it was still difficult for him to read Ragefang's words, hear that voice in his head, but it was getting easier. Carefully, he unlocked the small clasp and thumbed through the pages, sprawling back on the black leather couch to read.
Well done, kid, you made it and I'm proud of you. I hope you're recovered because this is where the fun really starts.
Now you've spent your time in Paragon, you've probably heard some names floated about, some good, some bad. I also imagine you may be wondering where you fit in with the whole Grand Scheme. To be honest, I'm not really sure - you've got the makings to be one of the Big Guys, but maybe that isn't exactly your style. Take me for example. There's not a whole lot about me or my arrests in the records, but that doesn't mean I wasn't active. The thing is, I just didn't tend to talk about it much. That's sort of the good thing about being the Little Guy...it gives you a lot of scope to do your own thing without having people questioning your every motive. That's probably the better bet for you, Jean...because just being who you are, everyone is going to be watching, waiting for you to screw up.
There's something to be said for being the middleman with the information. It might appeal to your sense of the hunt. Once you're done reading this section, rip out the pages and get rid of them. This is highly sensitive info and I'm pretty sure there's quite a few folks who would want to get their hands on this.
So, if you're interested in working some contacts, here's how to get started. My computer is old, but it still should be working; I had a friend of mine create a few tiny nanites for the thing to keep it running and even updating itself to keep up with current technology. If it's not working, go demand a refund! Anyway, password to the system by the way is "labyrinth"; and there should be a file listed on that old jalopy called "Paragon Web."
You'll notice some names there and some background information. This isn't anywhere near as extensive as some of the files of the big hitters with their fancy computers, but the thing is fancy computers can only find data which someone else has entered...the names you see are due to my own contacts and plain old fashioned legwork. So some of these people chances are no one has ever heard of. Some of them I know personally, some I've only met in passing. But every single one of them can be of use if you need to get something done or need a hand.
Right, let's start:
Coile. Chances are you heard of this guy. He's the leader of a group called Silent Tempest. You may rub elbows with him at some point, or you may butt heads. He's got a fair few connections of his own though, so it may be worth seeking him out at some point.
Tiger White. I don't know if you have any idea what a Peacebringer is, do your homework. Chances are she isn't going to like you - that old cat-dog stereotype which has no bearing if they've been raised up together, but you know what bigotry can be like, kid - but she does have her own connections and ideas. Also may be worth finding out about when it comes to getting information on the Peacebringers. I haven't actually met her, but her name was around for a while.
Cassandra. Zero Cass is a pretty easy going gal, she belonged to Unity Vigil last I knew. Very approachable and all around "good egg". I doubt she remembers me, but if she does, give her my regards from beyond. She fights a lot with the Circle and Council these days, and might know a thing or two if you tend to have to break those lot down.
Lady Cobra Another lady I'm rather fond of, though most of the time I treated her like a daughter, which she was probably rather amused about, or even privately annoyed with me. It's hard to say really. I kept myself out of her more public contacts, but she came to me from time to time for a few things. She's not going to be easy to find but you may be able to track her down.
Bastinado Good friend of mine, but I'll admit right now he's about as dangerous as a cornered tiger. There are people who say he's got a screw loose - he's gone through a lot which would have killed other men, and that sort of thing is going to leave scars. He's probably one of the few people Up Top who will understand where you're coming from, and he'd be good to know if you can find him. Don't expect him to trust you right off the bat, but I know you well enough by now I think - you're persistent and you won't just drop the ball and give up on him when he doesn't call you buddy after ten minutes. He runs Hyperion Watchmen, and you may not see him around much - but he's there. Just put the word out, and eventually he'll find you.
Right, for now, that's all I'm going to give you. Rip up the pages and keep the password secret - if it takes more than five tries for you to get into the system, the nanites fry the harddrive, so for sod's sake please don't try to log in while drunk, okay?
You take care, Jean-Luc...hope you like the guitar.
Jean-Luc smiled, letting out a slow breath. It didn't hurt as much to read the words..that was good. Still, he winced as he started to tear out the pages, and feeding them to a nearby lit candle still somehow felt like he was doing something blasphemous. As the ashes fluttered onto the table like grey snowflakes, Jean-Luc turned his attention to the black and green screen studying the names and committing the information to memory.
"Tres bien...better get started den..."
Jean-Luc groaned, clutching his head in the hopes it wouldn't fall off when he sat up in bed. The evening was a blur which was probably a blessing; he'd had his fair share of bourbon and its blissful forgetfulness had settled on him like a blanket...though of course the morning tended to turn into the inside of a blacksmith shop in his skull. He grimaced, cursing at the morning light in Kreyol, and pulled the blinds.
What'd been the guy's name? Headbash...Head - Headbreaker. Yeah well wasn't that ironic. Jean-Luc chuckled, even while he winced. Nothing like talking Glory Days with a fellow with well lined pockets. He wondered if Headbreaker was feeling it this morning as well...
There wasn't much else to do but lie there and groan, but Jean-Luc didn't like sitting around much even when he should have done. Besides, his regeneration had taken the edge off of most of his hangover while he slept, and he could already feel it ebbing away. Was as good enough time as any to read.
He squinted as he turned on the bedside light, blinking myopically and trying to get his golden eyes to adjust. There was the book, as battered as ever, but Jean-Luc smiled at it fondly, taking it up in his hands and cracking it open to read.
Hey kid. I hope the first contacts I pointed you toward proved to be pretty good for you. You're aware of course that's only one side of the world, however, so now I'm going to introduce you to the other, either as contacts or people to avoid unless you've got an army at your back.
By now you've probably noticed something; heroes drink. A lot. Some of them spend a lot of time in the bottle. People may think this is amusing, but you'd have to talk to soldiers to understand what it's about. Even though we may be "fighting the good fight", it doesn't mean our consciences aren't getting bashed a good one. It doesn't mean the memories aren't any less painful, our nightmares any less vivid - or frequent. It doesn't make looking in the mirror any easier to be able to say "But I'm a hero." Heroes put a brave face on for the world because the world needs them to look that way; proud, assured, and able to take on anything. Only other heroes - people who have really slogged through the mud, blood, sewers, arrests, hospital trips and sometimes the morgue to identify the body of your best friend has any idea what "hero" really means, and how heavy it rests on one's shoulders. The public builds statues to them in honour...but the bottom line is, heroes who have statues are dead. Plain and simple.
So, now I'm gonna talk about "villain side". I'm gonna tell you about the Isles, and some of the movers and shakers in it. But I want you to get this very straight in your head: some aren't worth allowing to breathe. If they were wiped off the face of the world it would be a better place, and everyone knows it, whether they want to admit it or not. Some are just doing a job, because it's business and business means more than anything to them - and we've got a fair few of those on either side of the lines. And some of them were heroes...heroes that had one too many nightmares, one too many bad memories, buried one too many loved ones, and snapped. If anyone thinks they're above that, I heartily invite them to get stuffed. I'm living proof to the contrary. There's a real fine line between being a hero and being a murderer, kid...you have to know where to stand on that, and you have to take responsibility whichever course you choose. When an arrest goes wrong, and you find you have to make a choice...be sure it's a choice you can live with, a choice you actually have thought about and won't regret. Believe me on this one.
Right...now the lecture's done. Let's get to some names.
Lord Synthus I may have the name wrong on this one. Ask Powerdrive about this if you can manage to get him to do so - it won't be easy to do and you may have to earn his trust. But listen to me on this; you don't take this guy on by yourself. At all. Ever. I will personally come back from the Beyond and kick your [censored] if you try. Some battles are too big without a lot of planning and you've GOT to learn how to plan first. Just rest assured, he's bad news.
Hermann Oswald There's a rumour going round about this guy, which I can't quite trace yet, but this is another bloke who is totally completely off his rocker. This may not be his fault...quite often it's rarely the fault of the people who lose it. That doesn't mean you have a lot of pity for them when they start taking out their personal grade of loony on the populace at large. In some cases, compassion would be wasted...and on this guy, it most certainly would be. If there was any way to just take this guy out, I'm sure it would have been done by now...so avoid him if you can and keep your temper. This guy has killed heroes before, and you'd be lunch to him. Bide your time...there are other ways around than through. Figure that out first.
Headbreaker. Classic case of just one too many. He used to fight in the rings himself, so to be honest he's just One of Us. However he's definitely on the other side of things. People would argue he's got a right, but the one thing which is going to mean you butt heads with him is he's one of those poor blokes who is looking for someone to blame. This is probably true of everyone who wants to see someone brought to "justice" which is often just a prettier word for "vengeance". The difference is, we try not to give into that. Headbreaker however goes for his justice full throttle. He's dangerous...especially because he's a damn good fellow and easy to like, but don't let it fool you, kid. Sooner or later, he's going to pop. Maybe you can get to him before he does.
Rei Mizuni: She looks like just an innocent, kid, doesn't she? She isn't...that's the problem. She doesn't know what being a kid means. She's been raised to be anything but - she's the typical spoiled little rich girl we both loathe, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know what she's doing. She does. She thinks, walks, talks, eats, and sleeps business. This rather means you know where you stand with this one, as long as you can give her a proper proposal. However it also means if you're standing in her way she'll mow you right over. Figure out again where to stand and how to get her to help you if you need it....just make sure you're up front about it. This may be the one time when your damn sense of honesty may serve you positively.
Right, that's it for now kid, there's plenty more information on the computer files if you need them, and you're welcome to add your own as you come across it Get rid of the names on these pages, just like you did before.
Take care of yourself.
Jean-Luc blinked, bringing his eyes into focus once more. The headache was gone, but as he put the book away and lay back, hands behind his head, he decided it would be a while before he drank that heavily again...nightmares be damned.
Just another part of being a hero.
Jean-Luc sighed and plunked down on his leather couch in his home base. He was exhausted, but things were going well. The Fourth Wall was catching on and drawing some media attention - both a good thing and a bad thing. He'd actually spent so much time away fussing with club business he hadn't been home in days, and he had just spent the past hour watering his neglected plants and cleaning a filled-with-science-experiments fridge. He'd managed to get some meat from the store and had just finished his raw-steak repast when he had glimpsed the book lying on the table with a start and a sudden rush of guilt. It was as if he had neglected a grave...when was the last time he'd looked at this book? He'd only just entered the information Ed had managed to get on the Terra Liberation Front into his home files, but he hadn't even looked at the book in months.
Jean-Luc immediately reached forward and snatched it up, opening the lock and flipping through the pages, struggling with reading a script which was even more spidery than usual.
I'm trying to be quiet right now as you're sleeping in the bed just to the right of me. Damn, my night vision isn't as good as it used to be, nor is my ability to heal...that fight earlier today was a real nasty one and my ribs creak every time I breathe. Sleep is impossible till they stitch up, and that will take a few hours, so I've got time.
I said I wasn't going to get sentimental, but I think I'm about to. The only time that sullen rage isn't on your face is when you're sleeping. I can see it right now, just looking to my right; one lock of white hair over one eye and an arm behind your head. You look peaceful. You NEVER look peaceful, you're getting that grim look we all have of the condemned man, the modern day gladiator who kills or dies for the pleasure of his patrons. Eventually, a fighter like that either gives up, or they start to enjoy it. And I can't have you doing either, so I have to speed up my own plans.
So with that peaceful, beautiful face composed in sleep beside me as inspiration, I'm gonna talk about the gritty stuff. About the day you decide you don't want to be a hero anymore.
We all get there eventually. It happens to us all. Yet one more artifact to save, one more villain to bust - who will more than likely escape. One more incredibly stupid person on the street who gets themselves into trouble and expects us to save them without learning to save themselves first. And what are the rewards? We're not paid a damn thing. Maybe for some the deed is enough, but reality is the bills need paying, and food needs purchasing, and hospital bills mount up after a while.
Maybe you just got sick of it. Maybe you even got yourself hurt so badly it took you ages to recover...but somewhere along the line, you've hit the wall, where being a hero no longer makes any sense.
I could say a bunch of stuff about The Greater Good, and Doing it Anyway, and all that, but it's rubbish and we both know it. The bottom line for me right now is that you've somehow managed to bring that look you've got on your face right now into your everyday life. The instant that goes...the instant you start feeling like you are back in the ring again, back off and wait till you can deal with it.
Some people define themselves by being "heroes". The cape is everything to them. When that goes, their lives are over as far as they're concerned. That's me, Jean-Luc, like it or not. After that raid...well I can't even describe what it was like, coming out of that and seeing all that blood on my hands and knowing it was all over. I could go to jail sure, I could serve a sentence, but I was never going to be able to wash it off my hands. Backstreet Brawler has had his lumps but he's managed to come out the other side. I couldn't. And there's others who can't either. I don't want you to be one of them.
It's hard for guys like us to step back and take a breath. It's like admitting weakness, and here that gets you killed. But Paragon ain't the ring...you don't have to push and push and push until you or your opponent breaks. That's a difficult thing for you to learn, I know, but you gotta learn to fight smart, and know when to fight, and when to back off. When to arrest...and when an arrest just won't work.
That's something you've got to think about, not just decide in the heat of the moment, because that decision is going to stay with you for the rest of your life. You've gotta learn to THINK, not just use your instincts, and if you've gotta do that, gotta step back to let your head override your feral nature, then do it, kid.
The lights are out, and you're asleep, and I'm more sappy than I want to be right now, but I've just realised I've never seen you smile. I hope you've learned to do that Up Top these days. A proper, winning, brilliant smile rather than the half-sneer, half-snarl you give down here. I hope that feral look is out of your eyes. I hope...damn this is hard to write...I hope you've managed to put me to rest and move on with your life, as you and I both know if you're reading this, I'm dead and buried. Leave me there, kid, and go and be happy.
Just try and be happy, Jean. That comes before everything. Because being a hero isn't a reward, it's a job. And you have to either want to do it...or just not do it.
Smile for me, m'chere. Try if you can.
And now my ribs have just popped back into place - sound nearly woke you up - so I'm heading back to bed, and try not to make you stir and lose that look on your face.
The last few paragraphs had blurred, and Jean-Luc blinked his eyes, rubbing at the tears on his cheeks, but dimly aware he was smiling, he was. Even so, he was smiling.
It was true enough, of course. After the fight with Hatesman, he hadn't wanted anything to do with hero work. Sure, he was still involved quietly in the project and hand his hand in any amount of work here and there, but he wasn't actively pursuing anything just yet. He didn't have the heart for it. He enjoyed running the club, and while he'd felt a qualm, a bit of embarassment at his "life of leisure", at least Ragefang had given his counsel to bide his time. The hunt would be there waiting for him, when he was ready again.
Jean-Luc leaned back in his chair, and felt his gaze slowly pulled to where the rather ancient computer rested upon the desk, with its catalogue of secrets and files, awaiting his perusal. He pondered for a long while, and then nodded, a glint in his golden eyes. Purposefully, Jean-Luc strode to the console, sat down, entered the password, and began to read...
((Once upon a time, I was a writer; yes, I've been published but it's mostly been articles on writing or gaming, nothing too stellar. Mainly, writing is something which never leaves you; it's a whisper in the back of the brain, and sometimes you just have to put down what it's saying.
Loup is a distinct voice in my mind, and sometimes the only time to get him to shut up is to write about him. Last night, an idea gelled in my head - I've stewed on it, turned it this way and that, and finally just decided to give it voice. It will be an ongoing slice into Loup Garou's life. And, more importantly, an outflow for him to say what he needs to say.
Enjoy.))
Jean-Luc sat on the steps of the Hero's Union in Paragon City, oblivious to the comings and goings on fresh heroes and grizzled veterans. At his feet was a rather weathered but sturdy electric guitar case, but his entire focus was upon a small, leather book in his hands; battered, scarred, and quite old, with pages which looked rather weathered, the whole was held shut by a lock. They key was on a strap which could slip over the wrist.
He'd been staring at the book for ...well, a while. He didn't quite have the courage to open it yet.
Ragefang.
Let's see....J, J, Jane, Janis, Jean, ah yes, Jean-Luc Santeris?"
"Non, Santeres, more 'e' on de las' bit."
"Indeed, right, well just a moment, I show you as being part of the Silver Wolf Supergroup."
Jean-Luc blinked at the supergroup official across the counter. "Quoi? I was in de NHU, what you on about?"
The official adjusted his glasses, giving Jean-Luc the sort of look only office clerks can give when the Files Are Not Wrong. "According to our records, you are part of the SuperGroup Silver Wolf, the "Alpha" I believe the term is, was Ragefang, but he's inactive -"
He's dead, Jean-Luc tried to say, but the words just wouldn't come.
"And apparently he left command to you in his absence. It seems you should have been able to acquire the base, and some effects he left you when you reached security 20. Why didn't you check in?"
"I ain't one for all dis official stuff," Jean-Luc murmured through lips which had gone strangely numb. "Wh - ...what he leave? What base?"
The official typed busily away on the keyboard with his manicured, fussy hands. "Well, a fair bit of prestige, the group name and title, a small base - it will function as a flat, though improvements can be made, he left a portion of proceeds for its furnishing, and....hm, it seems there's a key to a vault which also has some effects for you alone to claim."
Jean-Luc stared dumbly at the envelope which was pushed across the counter, the official giving a pleasant smile. "It seems he wanted to take good care of you, Jean-Luc. Let me know if I can do anything else for you."
Inside the vault had been two things; one, the guitar, leaning against the wall. Upon inspection it revealed a very good condition Fender Stratocaster in silver and white. There was no wear on the frets, which meant the guitar was completely new, obviously purchased just for this day. And then, there had been the book, the book Jean-Luc was currently staring at with mixed emotions.
Ragefang had known his young charge would eventually make it to Paragon. But Jean-Luc had never guessed his mentor would have paved a way for him, months in advance of his journey up top - and so he had never made any inquiries, or checked any records when he arrived. Having a base, money, and these possessions waiting for him meant Ragefang had been aware Jean-Luc would keep his promises...and also meant he had also probably been aware he was coming to the end of his own line.
Jean-Luc closed his eyes, pressing the book to his forehead while he struggled to fight back the pinpricks of moisture at the corner of his eyes. After taking a rather shaky breath, he took up the key, slipped it into the lock, and carefully opened the book. The city everyday noises seemed to fade away as Jean-Luc labouriously struggled through Ragefang's spidery, painfully familiar script.
Well, so you made it. Good job, kid. I'm proud of you. You're going to find things Up Top pretty hard going at first; like I explained before, you have a different mental process than others in Paragon. I don't know your exact origins, but you think more like an animal than a man. You know me well enough by now to know that isn't an insult.
If you've registered and found yourself a group, then good on you! If not, I've left some things for you to get started. For one reason or another, I imagine reading this isn't easy for you - it's not too easy for me to write it, as I can imagine the circumstances which would necessitate me having to write tips and tricks to you instead of telling you. I'm going to try and keep this from getting sentimental...but some things are easier to write on a blank page than to say. Some of that has to do with being men, part of it has to do with being men like us...and a fair bit just because it's me and I'm a bit of an idiot sometimes.
Jean-Luc, I want you to make it. I really do. When I fought you in that ring, damn, I didn't know whether to strangle you or protect you from the entire world. You have so much potential, kid, and I can't see you throw it away, not like I did. You're going to find your time in Paragon very hard. I wish I was there for you, but that part of my life is over. The best I can do is just give you as many tips as I can, offer you a hand across the great divide, and point you in the right direction. See this as my way of steering you right, even when you feel like every where you turn you're doing it wrong.
Now you've reached security 20, you've probably got a feel for what's what in Paragon. I hope you've learned to control your temper or you're going to find things hard going! And yes, I know, Jean-Luc, you can't stop being you. There are going to be a lot of people who just label you a vigilante, anti-hero, whatever the hell they're calling guys like us these days - but as long as you remember Paragon isn't the Ring, you should be okay. Treat it as your turf, protect it, and that will do just fine.
There's some people I want you to be on the lookout for. They probably don't remember me, but they may be able to show you a thing or two - we didn't cross paths much but I was observant and I know who were the big movers and shakers. Keep an eye out for Unity, the Militia, Silent Tempest. Do a scan through the files in Paragon City for the following names. If you're in a real pinch, contact them, but I think I know you well enough; you'll probably have to be near dead before you resort to it. Don't wait till that point if you can help it, kid.
The base will do for a while, as your own turf. It's up to you whether you want to turn the group into something more than a hangout for a lone wolf. I left you a bit to make it a bit more homey, and if you work hard you can make it as big or flashy as you like.
The guitar? ...I remember what you said about always wanting to play. I know you took Supa-X just like the rest of us, and I wonder if maybe when you get Up Top your mutation will calm down a bit in order to allow you to play again. Maybe it won't, but I admit...I wanted to give you something to remember me by. I hope it's of use, and even if it isn't, I hope you keep it.
This book is sorted by security levels. I've got some information here on some of the big bad boys of Paragon; the Family - ironically you're going to spend a lot of time busting our old bosses, but don't worry, they know it's all just business and nothing personal - Freaks, Council, Circle, Hellions, Outcasts. I've made notes on each. When you hit Security 24, come back to this book and I'll fill you in on a few things you need to know. The whole book is divided into security settings. I may not be able to cover everything; my memory is rusty and honestly, this would be the size of the Encyclopoedia Brittanica if I tried to cover every bloody thing.
Right...well I guess that's it for now. Take care, Jean-Luc.
Jean-Luc closed the book with trembling fingers, locking it once more. Ragefang writing from beyond the grave was a fair bit for him to digest. He had heard his old mentor's voice in his head the whole time he had read, like a murmur in the ear at the end of the day. Again, Jean-Luc fought down a wave of emotion, growling under his breath. "Mesi bien, m'chere...."
Jean-Luc rose to his feet, tucking the book into an inner pocket of his jacket, and took up his guitar case. It seemed he'd have to start sifting through the files of heroes today. Since his life had just changed dramatically in a mere two days, he wasn't sure he was good for anything else. He needed to process, and to think.
And he also had one last thing to do.
************
Jean-Luc chose the materials, print, type, and where the plaque would be placed. While Ragefang had not been one of the greatest heroes of Paragon City, he was still on the books and had managed to secure enough Accolades for recognition. Since Jean-Luc was able to confirm Ragefang's death, a memorial plaque could be mounted upon the wall for fallen heroes, with his true name, abilities, awards and medals embossed upon the titanium surface. Jean-Luc paid the costs himself, and was gratified to note no one brought up Ragefang's dismissal on charges of manslaughter. It seems the hero had managed to make his peace with the powers that be in Paragon before his passing...yet he had still chosen to stay Down Below.
Jean-Luc ran his fingers over the raised print of Ragefang's name, now the plaque was bolted into place. It was the best he could do. It wasn't a replacement of course - just a square of metal, when what Jean-Luc missed most was his friend in the flesh - but it felt right to see Ragefang's name, finally, where it rightly belonged; among heroes.
Jean-Luc rubbed at his eyes with one hand, turned on his heel, and strode out of the building.