A Scripta

Iggabuzz played checkers like each checker was a bit of Excelsior. Mase's tactics were wild and reckless, which disturbed Igga to make mistakes. This is how a general who flies by the seat of his pants handles things, said Jack.

Jack - Lodestar - had taken a hard back seat after their fight. The two souls had shared their memories up to that point, and now Mase had locked one part of his mind away, a part that he told Jack he should never, ever even think about peeking in. Jack agreed.

So after lunch, Mase pulled out the checkers and handed over the red ones to Igga, who looked up at him. "Long time no see."

"Oh, Styrm or one of his servants. Thought you forgot about me."

"I will never forget a man such as you. What are you going to do when your lawyer fails to get your confession thrown out?"

"It'll get thrown out."

"Don't be so sure. Did you know that if a confession is made voluntarily it's totally admissable?"

"I'm not sure if it was voluntary."

"You walked into Longbow offices, asked to see Manticore, and over the course of an hour told him everything."

"I was in pain."

"Of your own making, which doubly makes this admissable. But--" he turned away, saying, "I'm not your lawyer. Though I can get you one that will have you out of there within two hours."

"I need to stay here."

"Tell me why."

"I'm still psychotic."

"So that Peaceful Warrior in your head won't make a difference? That's what Malloy's going to bring up in order to have you released. Like I said, I can get you out of there in no time. Wouldn't you like that? To be able to go to Serena's apartment and stay there at night? With her? Your arms wrapped around her - "

"Shut up," Masonry growled.

"And you pounding her into the bed frame, making her scream in pleasure?"

Masonry gathered up the checkers.

"Go on, walk away. But you said you would work for me. Now I'm giving you orders." Masonry stopped, looked at Igga. "And, like the benevolent man that I am, giving you something in return."

"What do you want me to do?"

"That's a good boy. Sit down before they notice. Now. These orders are very simple. Keep Guardian Pace safe."

Masonry stared at Igga. "You don't...want me..."

"I can hear the disappointment. No, I don't want you to kill him. Keep him out of the hospital. Understand?"

"What about Fyre?"

"I could care less about the girl. If you fail in this, Masonry...I will be very disappointed in you." Even with the flat voice, Masonry could hear the pure coldness of the man's words. Igga looked down and saw the red checkers. "Hey, I get red today!"

I had hoped to make this the beginning of a thread on the boards, but it didn't want to go that way. It wanted to go into Rusty's history, and I honestly don't know how he became the way he is.

Gah, you're an idiot, Russ.

He looked at the glass of pure Irish whiskey that spoke to him. "I know," he said quietly. He was 25 years old, out of sync and time, and he had just admitted to someone that he cared about that he cared about her as a person, not as someone to use, just like everyone else he came in contact with.

It was more than money that he would have wanted her for. Companionship, someone to talk to and work with, someone who didn't mind that he didn't wear the same masks as the rest of the crew. Someone who didn't mind his lack of professionalism and military bearing. Someone who called him "normal".

He chuckled at that. It was why he joined the Merchant Marines almost ten years ago. He had taken a North American History course offered in the curricula, and his perceptions were changed. People actually fought over whether or not it was their right to carry a firearm? They fought over whether or not to keep slaves? Didn't they know that it was unnecessary for either a firearm or a slave, that sec-bots and maint-bots covered both functions?

They also fought about politics. North Americans were fiercely independent - that one person, with work and diligence, could surpass all others and return to rule - hopefully benevolently. No working together for the common good, while everyone agreed on the same common sense principles that if all were happy, satisfied, and accepted, then the universe would be at peace.

Russ studied more into North American history. Independence wasn't in his training, but it certainly was in his makeup. He rebelled, violently, taking all of the things he owned and teleporting them to a storage facility, then taking the teleportation key and heading off to the stars.

At the age of 15 he applied his sight to mechanics. Every ship somewhere needed a mechanic, and although he didn't have technical expertise, he was able to see results and how to get there. That and his natural charm, knowing what to say to captains and crews, got him from ship to ship with positive recommendations from all of them.

He looked again at the glass. "Got more to say to me?"

The glass was silent.

"Good," he replied, and drained it.

Linda Malloy watched the man walk by the glass windows, and her heart swelled. Something about him, she had no idea what, why he seemed to evoke such a glow out of her. She had defended heroes before, heroes more buff, more handsome, but Masonry, he was just so...cute.

"Hi, Linda," he said, pulling out the chair across from her.

"Hi, Nate. What were you in solitary for this time?"

"Somebody passed out in front of me, they thought I did something."

"Did you?"

"No."

She nodded briskly. "All right,then. Here's what we're going to do. We're going to aim the bar really high. After we get the confession dismissed, I'm going to ask that all the charges be dismissed, because, technically, they have no evidence that you did these crimes."

Masonry shook his head. "No. I did them. I deserve to be punished."

"Don't you think that your time in here so far is enough? Don't you think everything that you've done for the city is punishment enough?"

"I need to be watched."

"Nate, you're not on the drugs anymore."

"That's why. I'm evil."

"You are not," Mallory folded her arms across her chest. "Everybody gets mad at someone sometimes."

"But to want them dead?"

She looked down at her papers. She had read his psych reports and knew the answer to that question. He was jealous, pure and simple. But he didn't hate them enough to kill them, or she would have read Pace's obituary by now. "All right, " she stated. "But this isn't about them. Once the confession is out, they have no physical evidence connecting you to the crimes." She looked up and smiled. "You'll be free."

He looked down at the table. "Hm."

"Hm?"

"I was telling Fyre last night that I didn't want to be free. That I wanted to stay here. When they decided to put me back into solitary because some ex-sorcerer had a seizure, I realized I didn't want to stay here."

"Good, Nate. I thought I was going to have to fight an uphill battle." She rearranged the papers. "Now, here's the worst case scenario, and we're working our way backwards."

"Execution."

"Yes. They won't do that."

"How about a plea bargain?"

"It depends on what happens with the confession. We'll get you out of here, even if it means you have to keep wearing that teleport belt. We can change the teleport coordinates to something like a cell in Futura Force or the nearest police cell..."

He nodded, half listening. Scenarios ran the gamut from life in prison with no chance of parole or work release, all the way to total freedom. She would start from total freedom and work her way down. She didn't expect the total freedom, but she would push for some jail time with work release, probably a couple of more years.

His mind went back to the night before, when Fyre wouldn't believe he was capable of evil that he thought he was. "I've seen you with other people, Frosty, Rogue, Kit, Scott, Em, and Star. You can't not care." He told her that he almost tore Star's wings off. He didn't tell her that Em put him in his place with an order and a command, "UNDERSTOOD?"

"Nate, I know I'm boring you."

He gave her an awkward smile. "I'm sorry."

She smiled. "You pay me the big bucks to think for you. I just want you to know what to expect."

"Thanks, Linda."

"Just keep doing what you're doing, Nate. It doesn't matter what E says. And don't skip anymore, it looks bad."

"What about drinking?"

She gave him a skeptical look.

He smiled. "Drugs?"

"Nate..."

"Sex?"

She gathered up her papers even as she blushed. "Go on, get out of here."

His chuckle was deep and sexy as she watched him get up, like a lion rising from a meal. He squared his shoulders and fixed her with his dark, smoldering eyes. Then they crinkled as he grinned, because he knew what he had done to her for that one moment. He turned and knocked on the door for them to take him away.

Malloy took a deep breath to steady herself. No wonder Serena stuck with him. But she would have to beat off all the women with a bat. Or, Malloy thought with a grin, a katana.

A girl in my department came around with ribbons bearing the Virginia Tech colors and asked if I wanted one. "No, thanks."

"How come?"

I just shrugged and turned away. My real answer: Because I can see myself as being the shooter.

Stephen King writes that if anyone looked at his writing when he was in college he'd get tagged as mentally ill and be hauled off to Bellvue (or, in my area, Butler). How do you tell which one's "gonna blow"? According to him, "Violence unenlivened by any real talent."

I wrote a story for creative writing once where the main character took the usual Faustian bargain, and had a demon invade her body and use it as a conduit. I don't remember the end, but I do remember only one scene: As she walked across a field, her feet caused small fires in the grass. I remember the teacher pulling that scene out and saying it stuck in her mind as a symbol even after the story was done. In my case, violence enlivened by talent?

The writing, all of this stuff you're reading, is what's kept me from going postal all these years. King also says that writing is "excretory" for us creative types. Nice choice of words, that, because all of this violence and anger is just that - dark, deep, primal crap that everyone has and is afraid to handle. It takes a person either brave or foolhardy enough to deal with it and present it to you for your edification. I aspire to be the former. I'm closer to the latter, as I dance very, very close to that edge.

Mase helps.

Part I

"Is this going to be a morning ritual?"

The Tsoo seated across from Masonry began to rise. "If you would prefer..."

Masonry tapped the table with his fork. "Take a seat Strym."

"Actually, he's not here."

"Oh, then who am I talking to?"

"One of his servants."

"What's your name?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I'd like to call you something."

There was a pause, as the Tsoo scrunched his face in thought. "Psy-Ops."

"All right, Psy. Nice to meet you."

"Charmed," the Tsoo snapped.

"You happen to like Tsoo and Freaks?"

"I look to find what mind is available and see if you are in proximity to it. Then I access it."

"What about Igga?"

"I have worked with him before." The Tsoo gave a cry and fell backwards off of the bench. Masonry jumped up, and three guards came over, one with the quantum gun, drawing a bead on Masonry's forehead. Two guards went over to the Tsoo, who was having a seizure.

One guard said, "Wha'd you do?"

"Nothing. He was talking to me and then he just fell over."

The seizure faded and the man began breathing normally. They led Masonry away as he was pulled up to a seated position and the doctor arrived. The guard kept the gun on him.

"She will be punished," said the guard flatly, then his features softened. He looked around for a minute, wondering why he said that, then returned to focus on Masonry. The captain even got called over. Captain Aragon had known Masonry from the moment he came into the Zig. At first he had felt the same way that the Longbow did - that Masonry was a heinous criminal and evil man, but he saw how compliant he had been, even helpful.

Aragon saw the doctor, then turned to Masonry. As the rest of the prisoners were recalled to their cells, he approached Masonry. "What did you do this time?" he demanded.

"I didn't do anything, captain."

"You were the last person talking to him."

Masonry sighed. "We were talking about a mutual acquaintence and he keeled over. Maybe the drugs he had taken long ago finally got to him." The Tsoo was now heading back to the general population.

Aragon turned to Masonry. "Do you happen to like solitary, Greene?"

Masonry sighed again. "I swear to God I didn't --"

"If I had a dollar for every time someone said that I'd be a rich man. Solitary, Matt, until he gets called downstairs."

The quantum gunner directed him there. Again.

----------------------------------------------

Meanwhile:

The buff, naked man in front of him slowly, gingerly, unbuttoned Styrm's pants. He slowly ticked down the zipper. He took the hem of Styrm's shirt, tucked it under the waistband of the pants, then rebuttoned the pants. Styrm patted the man's head. "Very good, you did it right without this time without touching the skin."

"Thank you, master," the man said, bending his body in half so that his forehead touched Styrm's foot.

"Maybe I will allow you a touch this evening. Mousey," he said to a huge man with no hair or neck, "I want the most recent reports of my quarry on my table downstairs with my breakfast."

"Yes, sir."

He left his bedroom and headed down the hallway. He stopped outside of a door. "Where is Sheila?"

"We thought you didn't need her today," said the small man who had been behind him the day before.

"She knows her orders," he snapped, and turned the doorknob. It didn't move. Styrm growled. He turned and walked down the hall, touched an area that he hid with his body. A small panel popped open, and he pressed a button. This unlocked all the doors on the floor. He returned to the room, his face angry, causing the servants to step back. He threw open the door he originally meant to open.

Seated in a yoga position on her bed was the telepath from the previous day. Styrm strode across the room and grabbed her hair again like he had done the day before, but grabbed it hard enough that she fell off the bed. She screamed and sprawled at his feet. "I am disappointed in you, Sheila."

"Master, I was only trying to prepare the way for you to speak with him--"

"I did not want to speak with him today," he snarled. "Who are you to predict my wants? Have you skimmed my own thoughts as well?"

"No, master, no!"

He drew himself up to his full height. "You should know better." He turned from her. Mousey opened the door for him and guided him out. "Blake," he snapped to the small man. "Make sure she is punished."

The man in the black fedora rapped his fingers impatiently across the table and watched the woman in front of him. Her eyes were wide open, but she wasn't looking at him. Her soul was hundreds of miles away, inside the body of a Freakshow in a prison cafeteria, directing it from here. She would hear and repeat words from this man in the fedora, and speak them through the body far across city.

The woman uttered in a deep voice, "Excellent. How lucrative is it going to be?"

The man chuckled. "Lucrative. What an idiot." He tapped the woman's right hand and spoke, "What are you looking for?"

The woman repeated it when he pulled his finger back. She then blurted out: "Free rein."

The man sat back, folding his arms across his chest. "Well. That's interesting."

"He wishes to be free, master," said a small, mouselike man standing just to the left and behind the seated one. "All prisoners want to be free."

"He wants to be more than free. He wants a license to kill." He tapped the woman's hand and chuckled audibly, which she mimicked. "I'm sure that can be arranged. We will contact you. In the meantime, keep doing what you're doing. Let them think you're a loose cannon if you want. Let them think you're the penitent son. Whatever you want." Then he reached over and pulled the woman's hair, hard.

She yelped, focused angry eyes on the man in front of her, who backhanded her for the insolent look. She wilted before him. "I'm sorry, master."

"You'd better be." David Strym- under an assumed name at the moment - put his feet up on the table and his hands behind his head. "That would be an interesting one to add to my collection."

"Sir?" The mouse uttered quietly, almost cautiously.

"Masonry the War Wall as my slave. And now that he's joined with a Kheldian...yes, it would be interesting. A challenge."

"The man would easily come to you, master. The Kheldian may not."

"It's the Kheldian I'm interested in. I know I can easily break the man. Maybe even..." He grinned. It was not a pleasant sight. "I can put him in chains. Hmm..." For a moment, Strym's mind drifted to all the different possibilities, what tools he could put to that man's perfect body and face to scar it - no, maybe not. By the time he finished with Masonry, the moment he would get off the train the city know the huge man was a twink.

It depended on the Kheldian. If the Kheldian was a true Peacebringer, he would be losing patience with Masonry by now, especially now that Masonry had turned traitor. Would the Peacebringer jump into the driver's seat and stop him? He knew from his contacts that this was the old Kheldian in Powerhouse Jack, who was a relic from Statesman's time - Powerhouse threw things around and generally beat things and people into bloody pulps. There was nothing about crossing lines.

Strym's mind switched immediately to the next item on his list, the recent acquisition from Atlas Park. She was a tall blond, who would look at someone and fully heal them with just that look. She also crushed things for fun. He caught her contemplating the Atlas Park Bank. His personal telepath had skimmed her mind to see her plans for crushing the bank vault door. It wasn't hard to convince her from there.

"Let us go meet the young lady called Gravolator."

Masonry sat as Orbison sat at the table across from him. Masonry wondered if he was a real person.

"Nice to see you, doc."

Masonry had never been so cordial to a psychologist. If Orbison noticed, he didn't let on. "Masonry. Have you thought about the answer to our question?"

After the events of last night, he had to try to remember what the question was: Is what E and Fyre say always true? With his recent cold, detached clarity, he realized the answer immediately.

"Screw them. They can be wrong. They have been wrong. All this time, all the crap I went through for them. They're wrong."

"You seem to be carrying a lot of anger for them right now."

"Yeah. So?"

"This didn't used to be so, was it?"

"A few times I was pissed at them. When Fyre would show me up. When E would start lecturing, knowing what he was talking about. Ben said we would protect them, but then he started talking about their imperfections..."

"Do you know anyone who doesn't have imperfections?"

"No, of course not."

"So what makes them different?"

"Because I thought they knew what they were doing. I looked up to them. I believed them. They don't know jack shit!" He slammed his hand flat down on the table and got up, turning away from the doctor.

"What changed your mind?"

"I went and took down two ringleaders, by myself. I realized I didn't need them."

"Why does that make you angry with them?"

"They refused me," he said quietly, turning back to the doctor.

"Refused you?"

"They refused my help. Fyre refused me - a long time ago. E... E's said he doesn't need me."

"So you wish to feel needed."

"I want to feel like I'm an integral part of a team. If they can do everything they need to do without me, then they don't need me. He said he only had me for company. Even when I handled a mace..."

"So you believe your presence adds no value? Are you certain they don't need you?"

"They told me three times already that they don't need me. I always think I suck. But I notice Frosty does the same thing. Maybe it comes from being the front-line person."

"You have told me what they say. Based on how they act, do they need you?"

Masonry stared at the hologram, thinking. "I'm helpful, I think. They don't compliment me anymore because they think I'll get a 'bigger head than you already have'. But the Futura guys... they're always helpful and supportive, and we support each other. Even if we're pissed at each other, we'll still help each other. Because it's the team that's important. And we put aside our snarky remarks until after the mission's over. Or we don't gang up on someone. At least we try not to." Masonry clammed up once he realized that he and Synecology unintentionally ganged up on Emerald Flight after a mission, discussing "you time travelers". Masonry never had a problem dealing with that; he had other things on his mind.

"Why is the Futura team different than E and Fyre?"

"I don't know. It didn't used to be like this. We used to be a family."

"What do you think changed?"

"Fyre's got a Warshade running around in her head somewhere. E's deteriorating from radiation and they're going to take away his daughter - who he can't see anymore anyway because of the radioactivity. And I had a perfectionist Peacebringer in my head."

"So you have all changed?"

"Yes, we all did."

"Do the things that originally brought you together no longer exist?"

"I'm not a dumb rock anymore. I'm not so 'endearing' like that. And saying you want to kill somebody kinda puts a damper on your relationship from that point on, don't you think?"
"You told them you wanted to kill them? Why?"

"It was Ben. 'They're imperfect.' But I thought they were too perfect - they used to snipe at each other and now the two of them were so compliant with each other that it was sickening... I was angry that they could do things so well and work in concert together; and..."

" . . . and what?"

"And I was jealous of their relationship together. I kept telling myself it was because I was angry at Fyre for hurting E all those times she sniped at him, that it was the brotherly feelings guys feel whenever a girl hurts them."

"Because you cared for her more than that?"

"I did. And... maybe..." Maybe for E too? He squashed that idea, hard. "Can we go on to something else?"

Orbison nodded. "You do not feel this same anger toward your colleagues in Futura?"

"I did at first, but I realized that I could do things that they couldn't do. And I did things differently with either the same or better results. I could take the hits. Scott can too, but not like me. And when I first joined, I thought I could do that still, but I realized that I can't - but there's another niche that I can fill instead."

"And the female members? How do you feel about them?"

"Lady P's a sweetheart. I love Kit like a sister. Em reminds me of someone who wants to give you a hug, but can't because of social constraints. Syn is a sweetie, too, but she's in love with Jake so I dont' even want to get near her."

"So no anger?"

"Violet's kinda quiet... No, actually, no. Because I'm appreciated. And accepted. I think. Gee, I never thought about why they don't piss me off ..."

"Is there difference between E and Fyre, and Futura, how you think they treat you?" Masonry opened his mouth but the doctor got up. "Our time is up. Please consider that until tomorrow."

The hologram dissolved as Masonry sighed. He got up when the door opened, and muttered, "I always get the hard questions at the end."

When the "door" opened, it was a refrigerator on the other side. Lodestar's consciousness came out of the "room" to look upon a wasteland. There were a few glimmers, but so much had been ripped out that the glimmers themselves were dim.

Did you offer yourself to her? Even the words seemed encased in ice.

No! Lodestar replied. Before, he could easily put his "finger" on Nathan's feelings and could calm him down. Now he had still closed him off. No, Star's confused. She's a Protector. I only trained N'shta in Pathfinding. The rest is in her mind.

Then why did you greet her?

You disappeared. You went to a place in your mind to calm down.

Oh, so whenever I do those things to calm down you take over?

No! I only wanted to assure her--

Why? Do you have a closer relationship to her, too?

Because Star deserved it.

He felt a moment of hot anger, followed quickly by the equivalent of a fire extinguisher.

Do you know what's stopping me?

Lodestar "nodded." Frosty.

I promised. There were more conflicting emotions, first of love, then a quick squash of it, like someone stomping hard on an ant.

Nate, why are you blocking me?

You lied. When did you come out? How often?

I came out to E and Fyre while you had gotten drunk at Pocket D. That was the only time, I swear on the stars. All the other times we have worked together. He showed Masonry the memory of their conversation outside of Crey's Folly.

The wasteland brightened for a moment, as Nathan realized that was the kind of camaraderie the team had before they all changed. He thought fleetingly of letting Lodestar out permanently, then choked that thought off quickly. Don't use me. Ever again.

I will ask from now on. Or when you can't function, I will take over if necessary.

The two wills battled. Emotions, explanations, pros and cons, tears and force battled their way across the wasteland, clashing in the center and exploding into a blazing headache that raged behind the closed eyes of Masonry as he lay on the cot in solitary. When he wasn't moving during a quick check, the guards came in.

"His eyes are moving. He's talking to his Kheld."

"He's barely breathing."

The guard with the quantum gun guided the other one to the door. "He's fine. He'll wake up."

At just a little past 11 am, Masonry opened his eyes. They had reached an agreement. When Nathan would be incapacitated, by force or by choice, Lodestar would come forward to animate and protect the body. At no other time would he do so, even if Nathan had gone to that "place". But the headache remained.

---------------------------------------------------

Masonry sat down across from Iggabuzz. "I'm back."

"Yeah," he replied, sipping something. "Come to beat the shit out of me today?"

"Actually, no." He passed the note over. Again, Igga jerked to a sitting up straight position. He placed the cup down and focused on Masonry.

"What can I do for you, Masonry?"

"What can I do for you, Styrm?"

The Freak's eyes widened. "This has happened sooner than we expected. We thought we were going to have to bargain with you."

"I was nine-tenths of the way there, I just needed a reason to push me over the line."

"And what's that reason?"

"He's rejected me for the last time."

"Oh, I doubt that."

"I'm done feeling for him. Or her. Or them."

"I doubt that too."

"And I'm done proving things." He yanked back the letter. "I prove that I'm a prick every time, so I might as well keep up that reputation."

"Nothing wrong with that when performed in the right quarters, Masonry."

"Very funny."

"I wasn't trying to be funny."

Masonry spread his hands out on the table. "What do I get for working with you? Other than the satisfaction of seeing someone who's hurt me twist around on the wind?"

"Would you like to be the one tying the knot? Or kicking the chair out from under him?"

"Them."

"Oh, you want both."

"Yes."

"We don't care what happens to the girl."

"Excellent. How lucrative is it going to be?"

"What are you looking for?"

"Free rein."

The Freak chuckled, which would have chilled Masonry if he was in the mood for feeling emotions. "I'm sure that can be arranged. We will contact you. In the meantime, keep doing what you're doing. Let them think you're a loose cannon if you want. Let them think you're the penitent son. Whatever you want."

"Sounds easy enough."

The Freak blinked at him. "You're still here?"

"Just leaving. Thanks for the enlightening conversation."

He waved his hand and picked up another milkshake as Masonry got up, grinning.

6 a.m.

Lodestar knew better. He stayed in the back of Masonry's mind, listening to his rants, how he'd fucking had it with them, with all of them, that he should just stay in the Zig and screw the world. They didn't need him.

E called it a temper tantrum. Lodestar called it venting. Masonry did the mental equivalent of throwing around the furniture. Where else could he safely do that, and not be judged? Lodestar understood and let him. Later Masonry would spend himself, sit down in the middle of the mess, and then be receptive.

Masonry's dreams were full of rage, blood, containing some of Lodestar's memories of war. And the realization that when Masonry turned his back on the world for two minutes, Lodestar stepped out.

You promised not to use my body.

You disappeared--

"You promised," he whispered, and he turned over in the cot, and buried his face into the pillow, biting into it so no one would hear his sob. I trusted you.

Lodestar waited for the emotion to finish washing over him. Then came blazing anger, fury, hate - now directed at him. Lodestar had no where to run and no defense, so he let it toss him around.

You're on their side. I'm not anymore.

A door slammed in Masonry's mind, with Lodestar on the other side of it.

Lodestar sighed internally. He'll come around. He just hoped that a useable host remained when he did.

---------------------------------------------
Breakfast.

"So, I hear that you went AWOL."

He turned to look at the bald Tsoo who now sat next to him. He spoke flatly, so he knew who he was talking to.

"Tell me something."

"Depends."

Masonry waved his hand. "E and Strym. Their relationship."

The Tsoo chuckled. "You already know, Masonry. You just don't want to admit it."

He should have known. The entire discussion of man-crushes over the course of his time when War was there. The task force a long, long time ago when Masonry asked E point blank, "Are you gay?" and his response, "No, I'm not gay." He never followed up with the next obvious question: "Are you bi?"

The Tsoo continued, "You're a lot smarter than they give you credit for. That's really why they hate you."

He knew flattery when he heard it. "I'm not falling for that shit."

"You know that Strym would appreciate you if you joined the team."

Masonry nodded to himself. Now the real reason comes out. "Appreciate me like he did with E? No, I don't want to be his servant or his lover."

"You'd be neither."

"I'd be used and thrown out." He glared at the Tsoo. "I'm sick of that. I'm sick of being used." He pointed at his chest. "I am my own man, I will not be used as a punching bag, I will not be used as a vehicle, I will not be used as a pawn, I will not let them control me. I am going to go out there, go to work, and if my actions don't speak for me then that's too damn bad."

"They did speak for you last night. They proved that you can't handle being your own man."

"What?!"

"When Pace rejected you, you left. Because you wanted to kill him again."

Masonry was going to protest, but the Tsoo was absolutely right.

The Tsoo got up. "You don't take rejection well. You kill the ones who reject you. Especially the ones you love." The Tsoo bent closely to Masonry and said, just loud enough for him to hear, "I think your brotherly love for Pace is a little more than brotherly." Then the Tsoo bowed to Masonry while his eyes widened and the rage boiled directly to the surface. As the Tsoo walked away from him, Masonry wanted to rush at him and tear him apart, but he was in the prison cafeteria. If he acted out here...

He rose stiffly. He walked over toward the door, prisoners glancing at him, seeing his clenched fists, his determined look, and most dove out of his way. The guard in his tunnel vision stood at the ready, and when Masonry got within ten feet, he pointed the quantum gun at Masonry's chest. Five other guards had moved to flank him.

"I need to go back to my cell or into solitary." He had the right to ask for these things, being a psychiatric patient. But he had never asked for this before, and this surprised the guards and prisoners that knew him. The guard nodded, and two of them took him by his arm to lead him out.

Part III - (Masonry Recruitment Drive - these both take place on the same day)
Psychological intervention I

Masonry watched the pen moving in Pinkerton's hand. "Tell me now about Carlos."

Masonry's eyes widened at the name. He felt Lodestar's comfort and wanted to close his eyes, but in order to do this treatment right, he needed to keep his eyes open to watch the pen's movement. "He beat me. He used to look at me in the hallway and I used to run away."

"How did he beat you?"

"Carlos would call his brother and the Five Fingers - that's what he called his friends, I think one was his cousin - he told me in the morning he was going to beat me up that night, and when I saw them, I'd run, and I didn't tell anyone--"

The pen stopped. Pinkerton watched the big man take deep breaths, trying not to hyperventilate. He waited. Masonry nodded once, and the pen moved again. "Tell me the first time he beat you."

"Fourth grade. There was a trailer off to the side of the school, where the retards went. I go that way to go home. He caught me there. He threw me against the trailer. He punched me in the stomach. He hit me in the head. I went down at his feet. He kicked me. In the head. I don't... no, he thought I was passed out. He left me there."

"He didn't do anything else?"

"Not that time."

"But he did do other things to you later."

"Yes."

"What?"

"No."

Pinkerton stopped the pen as Masonry closed his eyes, feeling Lodestar's comfort, They can't harm you anymore. You're safe here. They can't harm you.

I'm embarrassed.

Say it plainly. I will help you.

Masonry snapped open his eyes. He nodded once as he pushed the emotion out of him as Lodestar had taught him, flowing into a small ball that stayed at the base of his heart. He took another deep breath, focused his eyes on the pen. Coldly he stated, "Carlos held a gun to my head. He told me to put it in my mouth. He pulled the trigger. I lost control of all my bodily functions."

Pinkerton said, "Anybody would have."

"I would have done the same thing to him."

"But he was dead by the time you would have gotten to him."

"Yes."

"Who did you kill instead?"

"No one. I found his wife and two children and did that to them. It was enough." He nodded briskly. "Yes, it was enough."

"So now what?"

He shrugged. "I move on now." He took a deep breath, and that ball slowly grew smaller, and smaller, until he felt it was gone. It was enough.

-----------------------------------

Part IV - Psychological Intervention II

"Are you an evil man?"

Masonry thought on that. "I don't know."

"How would you define evil, Mase? Quickly now. Don't think about it."

"The absence of any feeling for your fellow man."

This psychologist was from Kirkbride, Dr. Mark Orbison, whose bedside manner reminded him too much of Hope's Fury, with his cold detachment.

"Hmm...interesting. So nothing to do with your thoughts or deeds?"

"I'm being selfish if I use my thoughts or deeds. I'm not evil. If I don't care about whether my thoughts or deeds hurt anyone..." He tilted his head as he realized where that was going, because he knew when he wrapped his hands around Donnie's throat and squeezed, he didn't care who he hurt, just as long as he was dead. "Oh," he whispered. He looked up at the hologram. "But I don't mean to."

"So you believe being evil means not caring?"

"Well, yeah. And doing things on purpose to cause someone hurt."

"Do you do that?"

"I don't mean to if I do."

"Why do you, then?"

"Because I'm selfish. I want to be in front. I want to be the one they look up to I want to be the one they follow."

"Those are good leadership qualities, Mase."

"I wanted to be the one doing the beating - Huh?" Leadership qualities? Leader? Me?

"Why did you want to be the one doing the beating?"

"Because I was hurt and I want to hurt those who hurt others. I know how it felt. I don't want it to happen to anyone anymore - and I want them to know I did it."

The doctor nodded. "And you believe this makes you evil?"

"Um, no... Morally ambiguious, maybe." He smiled.

Orbison smiled and offered a small chuckle.

"But E and Fyre think so--I know, I know, it's not about them."

Orbison studied Masonry. "You believe you might be evil because they think so?"

Masonry kicked at the floor. "Yeah," he said quietly.

"Do you know how they define evil?"

"They think that because I let Ben out and I listened to him and he fed me a line that I meant to do everything Ben did. That Ben was an excuse. Like the drugs I took was an excuse for me to murder."

"Why do you say that?"

"It's what they told me. They said I should--"

"Does that make it true?"

"Never have done--" He blinked. "Does that make it true?" he repeated, stunned at the question.

"You tell me." The doctor looked at something behind Masonry. "I'm sorry, Masonry, but our time is up for now."

The hologram projection dissolved into a shower of sparkling light--leaving Masory, once again, alone.

(Thanks to Ice for playing the part of the psychologist and providing the last line.)

"Sergeant Simon," the man's blue eyes bored into Jack's green ones.

Jack would normally be frightened standing in front of a man that he had only heard stories about. He normally would be looking for an escape route. He was 24 years old, had just picked up a half-track and carried it across a football field. A couple of other heroes didn't think much of that, but Statesman saw fit to call him over.

"Sir," he said, saluting.

"I'm not in the Army," Statesman said with a smile.

He took his arm down and stood at formal at ease. "Yes, sir."

"What do you think about joining the Hero Brigade?"

Someone made a snorting noise. Statesman turned around. "Do you have a problem with that, Bull?"

"I c'n do wha'e done," the man said. He stood easily two feet taller than Jack, was as broad almost as Jack was tall. The man had no neck. He glared threateningly at Jack.

It's time, Jack, to let it all out.

He nodded, more to himself, and took a deep breath. As he did, he felt not just air, but peace and power flow into him. He stood with his hands down, palms aiming at the earth, drawing power from there. The next thing he knew, he was floating two feet off the ground.

We will fly, Lou said calmly. Then Jack focused on Bull.

"Gotta catch me first," he taunted, and floated backwards, out of his reach. Bull roared, as they expected, and he danced out of reach. As he flew, he felt even stronger, more powerful, he flew straight up into the air, feeling absolutely free. The cold air didn't bother him. The lack of oxygen did, however.

Down, he thought, and performed a perfect flip, heading toward ground at an amazing speed. He saw the ground rush up to meet him, hardened his body and plowed into it. He turned in the dirt, facing up and he propelled himself out of the ground in a burst of rock and soil. He turned his body in midair, focused on Bull, and headed right for him.

Bull stood his ground, even while Jack slammed full force into the man. He did not go down, but instead skidded backwards in the dirt, slamming into a tree and breaking it at Bull's shoulder. Jack danced in flight out of the way of the falling tree while Bull ducked. Someone came up behind him and he jerked around.

"Hey, hey, kid." He stepped back, holding up his hands. The big black man smiled at him. "Nice job on Bull there."

"Uh...is he okay?"

"Hurt just his pride, no doubt. Think you can do that burrowing thing often?"

"I don't know, it was the first time I did it."

"C'mon, Kid, let me introduce you around."

Part I

He stepped out of the shower and heard, "Styrm knows."

Masonry held the towel in front of him and froze. Guards were just inside the door, at least one quantum gun for each prisoner. Five prisoners stood naked in the bathroom, drying themselves off in silence.

"Drop!"

All the prisoners let go of the towels, letting them drop on the floor. Guards stepped forward, flanking each one, and led them out to the changing area. As he put on his clothes, he heard a flat voice state coldly, "Strym knows you want him."

He unfolded his shirt and searched out with his senses. He had developed this ability after becoming a huge unstoppable piece of rock; he could sense people to his left and right, out of his peripheral vision. This one was at five-o'clock - his right rear. He turned on his heel and faced a guard in that position.

The guard brought his gun to bear. "Are you speaking to me?"

He moved the gun. "Move it."

Masonry put on the shirt - no longer the tank-top, but a plain, ordinary t-shirt now. He put it on over his head, and he heard the voice, "He can help you."

Masonry focused on the guard, who now held the gun at Masonry's chest. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up - a quantum at this close range would tear him into little pieces instantly. Masonry put his hands up in surrender. "Move!"

The two voices were the same, but slightly different. Something's speaking through him, Lodestar said, and Nate nodded internally. He went back to his cell. He nodded to his bunkmate, Nickie Gross, who was in for allegedly killing his girlfriend. He blamed the Kheldian Warshade, who had been so disturbed at the ferocity of the crime that it hid somewhere so deep that even a telepath couldn't find it.

"At least one of us won't have fleas tonight," he commented. "Think you're going to come crawling in at midnight again?"

"Probably. I try to stay out as long as possible."

"Don't blame you." Nick nodded to the top bottom bunk. "Something came for you." A plain white envelope sat there.

"Did you read it?"

Nick gave him an incredulous look.

Masonry chuckled and turned the envelope over. There was nothing on the front, and it hadn't been licked closed, only folded closed. Undoing the flap, he waited to see if anything magical was going to happen. Nothing did, so he pulled out the folded paper.

It was folded into fourths, not thirds as would normally be in an envelope of this type. He opened the page to see a note: Want about Strym? M33t m3 4t 3rd t4ble near d00r window in c4ff 4 lunch.

It's written by a child, said Lodestar.

A leet child.

Masonry turned the paper over at Lodestar's suggestion and peered closer at it. Or someone directed him from a distance.

How can someone do that?

Mind control. Sister Psyche isn't the only one in the world that can force someone to do that if she so desired.

E's boss?

Maybe not him, but someone who works for him.

This is a break.

It's most likely a trap.

Masonry shrugged. How else am I supposed to know?

Make sure there's others around you. Don't go there by yourself.

I know what I'm doing.

You most certainly do not, Nate. This is intrigue, not a street fight. Your idea of subtle is a punch in the face. For once, listen to me. For once, do as I tell you. You constantly ask me for help - listen this time.

Masonry closed his eyes and felt himself let go, relax, not fight. He sighed in agreement.

Part II

Most Freakshow, after they are arrested, are brought down to the infirmary. Augmentations that could be removed are , and those that can't are allowed to remain. If the Freak was stupid enough to remove the item to use it for a shiv, they were brought in to a hospital, all of their augmentations removed and replaced with fleshlike counterparts, and then sent back to the general population to serve out their terms among the Hellions, Skulls, and other humans.

Iggabuzz had replaced his right eye with something that looked like a laser with a tracking device. It would be difficult but not impossible to remove. He wouldn't have an eye left, though. As it was, he had no real hands, but was using a pair of plastic mechanical gripping devices to handle things. His lunch consisted of different cups full of different liquids.

Masonry sat down across from him, sliding his tray onto the table. "If it ain't the famous Masonry. How many heroes you kill today?"

"None, but the day's still young. Did you write this?" He passed the note across the table.

Iggabuzz jerked, as if someone stuck something in his back. The voice that came out of him was flat like the guard's earlier. "I did."

"Talk to me."

"No. You talk to me. You want information, you give me information."

"Don't have much to give. I'm on the inside."

The Freak sat up stiffly. "And I'm not?"

"No," Masonry replied, using words Lodestar now supplied. Masonry emptied all emotion out of his eyes and watched Igga gaze up at him. While Masonry would keep on going and spit out something unintentionally, Lodestar had always been known to be prudent.

"You're smarter than I gave you credit for."

Masonry said nothing, looked down at his lunch. "Tell me something worth my while."

"Fair exchanges, Masonry."

He shrugged. "Ask a question. I'll answer. Then I ask. You answer. No beating around the bush."

"You trust my answers?"

"No."

"Then why should I trust yours?"

"Because I have nothing to lose."

Jack -

Shh.

"You mean you don't care about your friends?"

"If I didn't care, I wouldn't be here." Masonry focused on Igga's blank eyes. "I care whether they're alive or dead."

Jack! Where are you going with this?

Shh. Making an assumption.

"Do you want them alive or dead?"

"All of them? Or some of them."

"Pace."

"What of him?"

Igga jerked focused his eyes. "What're you doin' here?"

Masonry closed his eyes and turned his head. Damn, almost had him.

What are you doing?

Seeing whether or not they have the same information that E and Fyre have. That you still want to kill them.

But I don't.

I know that. You know that. E and Fyre know that. Eat something, wait. Maybe he'll reconnect.

"I'm eating lunch. You asked me to sit with you."

"I don' sit wi' baby killers." He gathered his lunch and got up. Masonry took back the letter and put it in his pocket. This will be your contact point, Nate. Eat here a few times and see if someone else comes along. If the telepath can do what I think he can do, it could be anyone.

Anyone. If he wasn't paranoid before, he would be now.

Jack sat in the idling truck, listening to the rain pattering on the canvas. He banged on the window to the cab - the passenger pulled it open. "What?"

"Wha's goin' on out there?"

"Truck in'a mud, cain' getter out."

Jack hoisted his gun and started to the rear of the truck. The men yelled at him, but he didn't care. He undid the canvas, splashing them, then he jumped down and rezipped the canvas. It was time.

He squished through the mud, walking by three, five, eight trucks to get to the one in the North Carolina mud. Come to find out it was more than one truck - it was a truck, and a tow, and another truck was spinning its wheels to get the tow out. He glanced around, walked over to a man with captain's bars. "Sir, Captain, sir, request permission to pull the trucks out of the mud, sir!"

The captain turned to look at the man standing in front of him. A little older than most recruits, Jack had honed himself since the joining. Jack had barely passed the physical on entrance into the Army, and now had broad shoulders, a large chest, and stunning abs that made most of the men in the barracks green with envy. Jack understood for now to keep his ability under wraps. Until today.

He had read in the paper that heroes were forming their own brigade, and Lou suggested the idea of hooking up with them. It would be better than slogging in the mud with the rest of the GI's - but he would have to work much, much harder. His expectations would be much, much higher. Was he ready?

The captain regarded the young man. "And what do you think you're gonna do, private? Pull 'em out?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Trying not to laugh, the captain said, "Sure, son, you go on ahead."

Jack saluted, "Sir, thank you, sir!" Hoisted his gun up higher and headed toward the truck in front. A lieutenant watched him. "Sir, tell the men to get out of the truck." Then he handed over his gun.

"What the fuck?"

"Sir, do it, please?"

The lieutenant took the gun, and studied Jack, who looked very serious. "Hey! Boys! Get outta the truck!"

The GI's leaned out and jumped down. Jack walked over to the front of the truck and took a hold of the tow hooks. He squatted. Our footing - he felt himself get heavier, more centered - he felt himself sink into the mud. He took a deep breath and pulled.

Stuck. He sunk deeper, pulled harder. He took a step back, sunk in deeper, pulled again. He felt something ease. Took another step back, pulled again.

He could very well have given a good yank and pulled the truck out like pulling something out of gum - but then it would have gone over his head and he wouldn't have any control over it, and for all he knew it would fly into some general's car. He eased the vehicle out, until it rolled gently onto the ground. Then he got behind it and pushed it by putting his shoulder to the back. He saw someone out of the corner of his eye jump into the cab to steer.

After he got that one out, he returned to get the tow. Again, he centered himself and sunk deep into the mud and pulled. In twenty minutes, all three vehicles were out. Then came the pontoons, which he picked up like they were pieces of plywood and placed down over the mud. As the traffic began to flow again, the lieutenant gingerly came over to him with the gun. However the captain intercepted him. "What's yer name, son?"

"Private Jack Simon, sir."

"Sergeant Jack Simon. Get this man stripes, lieutenant. An' call Statesman. We got us a hero here."

Private Jack Simon greased the gun. Again. Fort Devens wasn't so bad, he was still in Dixie; just a three hour plane ride from Gadsden, his home town. Not that he ever wanted to go back.

He looked up as the corporal came up. "Sarge says he wanna see ya."

Simon nodded, started toward the barracks.

Jack.

He looked around, saw no one. He walked a little further.

Jack.

He stopped. "Whozzat?"

Over here. In the woods.

He glanced around him, then headed into the woods. No one was there immediately, so he turned to go back. No, come in. Head south. He kept on going, crashing through brush, until he reached a clearing. A young black child stood there, idly scratching into the wood of a tree. She turned to him. "Hi, Mr. Simon!"

"Do I know you?"

"No' yet. Lodeystar done like you-sir, bu' I gotta die. Say he gots'm work t'do, an' I canna help'm."

"Who? What?"

"Ain' gots time t'splain. C'mere." She walked up to him and made a motion for him to either kneel or squat to her level. He squatted, keeping his balance. She grabbed him by the back of his head and pulled his forehead to hers.

Next thing he knew, he was lying face-up in the leaves and looking up at the beautiful blue sky. He struggled up, using the huge tree in the center of the clearing as leverage. As he looked around, he noticed everything was clearer, brighter. He looked down at himself, then looked to his right.

A black girl's body lay at the bottom of the tree; she looked like she had curled up to sleep and died. He blinked, looked around.

No one sees us.

He jumped back, looking around wildly.

Calm, Jack.

He found himself taking a deep breath, holding out his hands to the ground, as if to gain strength from that. He seemed to calm down.

I know I didn't have time to explain, Jack, but that girl was too young to understand.

"Who are you?"

I am called Lodestar. I am from another planet. Don't panic. Oh... Then he sent images. The body moved on its own volition back to the gun, where the corporal still stood next to it. "Hey, Jack, wha'd he say?"

"Nuthin'," he replied. "Thanks."

The corporal touched the brow of his hat to him. "You look like somebody hit ya over the head."

"I'm okay." Jack stared at the gun. "Yeah. I'm fine. I'll be jus' fine."

I don't understand, I always said good things about them, why did they say these thing to her?

Thou hast hurt them.

Will you stop throwing her words back at me?

Maybe if I talk like that you'll listen.

I am listening.

Only to what you want to hear.

...

When you get out of here, what are you going to do?

Here, solitary? Here the hospital?

You'll never get out of the hospital or jail, Nate. You'll always be kept somewhere.

::sadly:: Never trusted again.

Your choice. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be.

What will be?

Knowing who you are.

I'm not an evil man.

Yes, you are.

I'm not like that man who hurt E.

But you could have been.

Anybody could if they just let themselves go, if they fill themselves with hate for everyone else. If they thought of themselves first and everyone else...

Sounding familiar?

What do I do?

What do you want to do? Do you want to keep going down that path of hate and anger or do you want to reform?

I want to help.

That wasn't one of the questions.

Hate and anger is so much easier.

So is that what you want to do?

Honestly?

You do want to go down the dark and twisted path, don't you? Because you've felt that for so long that you're comfortable. And that moment when it's all gone away after a murder, those moments I give you of peace, it means nothing to you.

You're trying to make me feel guilty.

I'm trying to understand. Another human who was my host felt this way also. Do you want to know what happened to him?

He was shot down like the rabid dog he was.

No. He became a captain in the Byzantine Army and was killed in the line of duty.

Did he reform himself?

No.

:: snorts:: I'm in the wrong business.

Yes.

You don't seem surprised.

I knew right after joining. But I also knew that you have the potential for change, if you want. I didn't realize how lazy you are.

Lazy?!

Lazy. You could have stopped Ben if you wanted. You could have reined him in. You could have stopped yourself from taking the drugs. You could have stopped yourself from killing those people. You're lazy. You let things happen to you. You'll never be a hero if all you do is react.

I never wanted to be a hero.

Finally! Finally you admit to it. You very well could have been that man who tortured E. Right?

What do I do?

Answer me.

right

Chew on that, Nathan.

Nathan looked up from his breakfast tray to see Providence storm into the room. He shared his room with three other Kheldian heroes, one who had an insane Kheldian like he had once (this Kheldian happened to like his host think he was constantly covered over with assorted items such as bugs, blankets, flowers), one who fought off depression because he couldn't save a citizen from a Circle of Thorns ritual, and the last was slated for release as soon as his cousin finished accomodating his home for a wheelchair.

"Prov, surprised to see you here this--"

"Thou lying dog! Thou mewling harpy, thou milk-livered puttock, thou excreable miscreant!"

Nathan blinked as she continued her tirade and tried not to laugh. Finally she took a breath to look at Nathan as he had put his hands to his mouth stretched into a broad smile. "Now," he said, "What was all that about?"

"Thou liest." She slipped into French, which she knew he understood, because Lodestar could translate for him. "You told me that Ben is the one who wanted to kill E-VAC and Fyre Hex, and they told me last night that it was you who wanted to. Why, Nathan, why?"

The smile disappeared. "How did you see E and Fyre?"

"I went on patrol with them, and Emerald, and Starwyng, but it doesn't matter."

"It does matter. It matters because if they went looking for you--"

"They were looking for you but you were here. You're changing the subject again. Why did you want them dead?"

"I did want them dead but I don't anymore," he protested. "But they push me and push me." He looked down. "I push back and it makes it worse."

"They still care about you or they wouldn't ask you to go with them, Nathan. You should give them the same respect."

"I try, but something comes out..."

"You try, but you can't forgive them."

"Forgive them? Why should I? I've tried to keep them alive, at the risk of my own life--"

Providence slapped him on the head. Nathan jumped up, toppling the tray to their feet. He slapped aside the tray holder, sending it into the next bed. "I'm getting sick and tired of getting hit by everyone I have a conversation with."

"Then grow the fuck up!"

He stopped his advance. First E swore at him, now Prov.

"'Tis not all about thee, Nathan, 'tis not! Thy friend E doth carry radiation sickness, 'tis getting worser and all thou careth for is how thou canst help him, how thou canst save him, truly? "I shalt help thee, and thou shalt owe me and worship me." "Oh, thank you, Masonry, my hero!" Fie, upon such a thing - thou art a hero and shouldst not expect such reward. Thou hath hurt them, thy true friends, thou hath hurt them both. What hath they done to thee?"

"They tried to help me. They tried, and I hated them for it." He looked at the tray on the floor, and saw the orderlies at the door. He called, "Get me a bucket, I'll clean it."

One of the larger ones shook his head. "Too late now. Come on, Mase."

He hung his head down, and Providence said, "Nathan."

He looked at her.

"Go hence proudly. Accept thy mistake and go."

He looked at the orderlies. Accept thy mistake and go, echoed Lodestar. He raised his head and followed the orderlies out of the room.

Linda Mallory smiled to herself as she entered the judge's chambers with her charge. The assistant DA, Jimmy Carr, along with his usual entourage, followed behind her.

She knew this judge, and blessed her lucky stars that it wasn't someone worse. Judge Anna Lorraine oversaw many cases of "heroes gone bad". However, she didn't know if her defense would fall on deaf ears, because Judge Lorraine was also one of the many judges that disliked temporary insanity as a defense.

After murmured "good afternoons", Nathan sat down. She had him wear normal clothes and his dark hair was touseled just-so, enough to cause many of the women in the area to turn their heads.

"Now, then," said the judge, shuffling papers, "Mr. Greene's competence to stand trial is brought before the court. He has been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Bipolar Disorder. He confessed to murdering eight people while under the influence of a drug he made himself." The judge looked up at Mallory. "Did he intend to kill the people when he took the drug?"

"No, your honor."

"Why did he create it?"

"So that other children could be able to defend themselves."

"Which," said Carr, "is the same thing as intending to use it to hurt the people who attack them."

"He was attempting to level the playing field, your honor," said Mallory. "He was a tiny boy who found himself constantly beaten by children twice his size. He wanted to create a substance that could make the body larger. It wouldn't make the child a berserker, at least that was his intent."

"But a child with a larger body mass would feel more powerful and therefore choose to turn that size on his aggressor--"

The judge interrupted, "We are speculating on something that doesn't exist. His intent was to increase body mass. The side effect was becoming Mr. Hyde, am I right?"

Mallory nodded. "I present before the court that he had no control over his actions--"

Carr interrupted, "He premeditated these murders for years. He knew what he wanted to do before he did it, the drugs merely gave him the ability."

"He premeditated them because of what had happened to him over the years. It's not any different than someone who has been attacked who dreams of hurting their attacker or even killing them."

"The difference is that he did it."

(Mallory refers to domestic violence cases)

Mallory continued: "Domestic violence is still the systematic abuse of someone." She leaned over to the judge. "Remember, that little boy who was beat up wasn't this man."

The judge studied Masonry, who looked up and held her eyes. She drummed her fingers against her cheek, watching him. Masonry looked away from the scrutiny, blushing. She looked over at the assistant DA. "He is competent at this moment to stand trial," the judge declared. "However, I don't believe that the prison is the right place for him to receive the kind of psychological care necessary for him. He is still allowed to contribute to assisting heroes?"

"Yes, he has been with Longbow Guardian Jason Pace for a few dozen assignments, especially in Croatoa recently."

"And how has that been going?"

Masonry squirmed and avoided her eyes. Mallory said, "We're working on that."

"Masonry's a distraction," snapped Carr. "Guardian Pace has had to surrender most of his time taking care of Masonry's issues in the middle of battles. He should not even be out."

"Which proves that he is psychologically unable to participate out in society."

Masonry whirled his head and stared at his attorney.

"At least with Guardian Pace and his companion. However we have not seen the same issues among other teams he had joined - teams that he is haphazardly assigned to. He has been seen in Pocket D and has not contributed to any aggression there - in fact, he does not drink anymore."

Carr turned to Mallory. "Paradigm of humanity, is he?"

"I never said that, Jim. I'm illustrating that it happens to be Guardian Pace and the teams he builds that causes these issues."

"Then maybe we should remove him from access to Mr. Greene."

Masonry's jaw dropped. "No," he muttered.

Mallory put her hand on his arm. "Guardian Pace abuses Masonry verbally constantly. Unfortunately, psychologically speaking, it is what Masonry is used to and therefore accepts this abuse as required for friendships."

"Oh, so you're a psychologist now?" Carr jeered.

"It's in the forensic psychologist's report that I submitted with the brief."

"So you believe that if Guardian Pace is removed from the scene that it will assist him? Then Mr. Greene does not have to be remanded to an asylum."

"The prison psychologist can only do so much. Masonry cannot have medication because of the high probability of addiction and adverse effects, both to him and the Kheldian residing in him. Solitary confinement with his Kheldian - who was not a professional psychologist - helps some, but he has much more work that needs to be done."

"Why Kirkbride?"

"It has a special Kheldian unit, and it also has a secure unit for criminally insane. He would be placed in the Kheldian unit because it is believed his Kheldian can keep him calmed down."

"I know of Lodestar when he was Powerhouse Jack," said the judge, nodding. "All right. Thirty days, he can go to Kirkbride Psychiatr for psychological counseling and testing."

"Can he still be allowed to work with other heroes in the field?"

"Provided these heroes understand that they may have to restrain him at some point."

Mallory nodded. "They are already informed of that or they wouldn't accept members from the Zig Work Detail."

The judge took out a pen and signed something. "Make sure he gets the care he needs."

The assistant DA held the door open for Mallory. "You should go work in the Isles." Carr looked up at Masonry. "We'll be seeing each other again, Mr. Greene."

Masonry slowly nodded once.

========================================

"Congratulations, Mr. Greene. You now get to spend some sunny afternoons in a high-class hotel over in Skyway City." The Longbow Guardian narrowed his eyes at him. "Hope you enjoyed your stay."

Masonry bit off a retort as his attorney, Linda Mallory, put a hand on his arm. "C'mon, Nate, they're just goading you."

He sighed. "Some hero that I get the Longbow pissed off at me."

"That's why you're going somewhere that can help you."

The Longbow snorted and slammed shut the gate. "That's exactly how E feels -"

"Nate, look at me."

The big man focused on the shorter blond woman standing before him.

"Guardian Pace is one of them - " she thumbed at the Longbow still standing at the gate. "They're perfection in motion, or so they think, and anyone who makes a mistake drops a few points in their book."

"All E wanted to do was help me."

"Of course he did. And what he does to you now is 'help' you? Treating you like he does? Both of them?"

Masonry closed his eyes and waited for calm to come from Lodestar. It didn't.

This takes place during the Moonfire task force, just before Masonry tears the door off the mission after its completion.

Lodestar: Nate.

Masonry: Yeah.

Your anger is palatable.

So.

Nate. Stop.

Stop what. I'm doing what they told me.

Stop being angry.

I should be happy?

Look at what you're doing.

I'm in the rear.

You're hurting them. You're not attracting their attention.

But I'm not very good -

You are. Look, one shot, that man went down.

I'm not happy.

What Frosty does is not your job anymore. ** gone **


Takes place after the task force and a series of missions.

Masonry: Is it too much to ask E to tell me what to do?

Lodestar: No. But he assumes you know what you're doing. Otherwise he wouldn't summon you.

He summons me to beat me up.

He summons you because you know what you're doing. He has faith in you.

He's just like the kids who beat me. Both of them.

Calm. Breathe. ** sends calming waves **

I hate them.

Because.

They...they're better.

They're good at what they do, yes. But you are good at what you do as well.

Oh, sure. Getting people killed. And murder, don't forget murder.

It's done. They're gone. Let them go.

But they keep coming back!

Because you let them.

People like them keep coming back.

Because you let them.

So what do I do?

You become better at what you can do.

Wha..?

You are no longer Masonry.

...

You are a Peacebringer. Your abilities are different.

But nobody's teaching me.

You relied on War Mollusk to teach you how to get the enemies' attention and hold it.

E won't teach me, you just heard him!

Then we will have to work together to understand the range of your powers.

Don't you know?

No. Every host manifests different abilities.

Oh Christ.

Nate. ** holds him ** We will get through this. I have faith in you, too, Nate.

** sighs in contentment **

We can't stay like this forever.

Why not...it's quiet. Comfortable. Better than having a woman lay next to you.

Hmmm, I don't know about that. ** chuckles softly and sends a memory of Artemis snuggled up in Masonry's arms **

** Mase grows slightly distressed ** She's gone.

** removes the memory immediately ** I know. Ask Pinkerton if he will allow you to spend some time in the exercise yard picking off tin cans at a hundred yards in between times that they find assignments for you.

What good will that do?

You get used to being on air.


The next afternoon...

Did they have to have quantum guns here?

It's for their own safety, Nate, in case you wanted to try and escape.

As if I could.

Let me tell you how you could, Nate, if they had no guns. First you would be able to take out the four guards at the door. You would be able to tear the inner door out and blast the outer one. You would be in the hall. Your natural sense of direction would point you north, where, even though it's on the opposite side of the Zig, you have plenty of room to hide. You could easily fight your way through, with your strength and my agility, and get to the bottom floor, where eventually you could find your way to a large sewer grate and blast your way out.

Why are you telling me this?

Because you have the ability. But I won't let you. You really don't want to, anyway.

No, I don't. I've screwed up enough.

Take aim at that barrel, concentrate...release. Good. Again. Now both barrels...