Showing posts with label Powerhouse Jack. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Powerhouse Jack. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
"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."
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."
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
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."
"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."
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."
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Joseph William Simon, known as "Powerhouse Jack", died peacefully in his sleep yesterday. He was 89.
Powerhouse Jack was one of the surviving members of First Hero Brigade's Sand Kings, a special unit operating in North Africa during World War II. He received a Congressional Medal of Honor for defeating a platoon of German panzers singlehandedly, and extracting American soldiers from behind enemy lines. He also received the British Victoria Cross for carrying a British tank full of British soldiers back over to the allied lines. He later assisted in the battles for Italy and the liberation of south German concentration camps.
After the war, he remained with First Hero Brigade, rising to the rank of colonel. He recruited many heroes into the Army, instilling tactics rather than brute force. He assisted in the defeat of Reichsmann and the Amerika Korps, and later helped to regain Washington DC from Nemesis.
He taught in West Point from 1953 to 1962, and again from 1970 to 1986, being assistant superintendent, hero liaison, from 1980 to 1986. He also and continued to be a consultant for Hero Corps, testifying before the United Nations' Special Council on Super Human Activities.
Although never officially a member of the Freedom Phalanx or Hero Corps, he was considered an important contributor to their organizations. When the Rikti invaded, due to his age and diminishing abilities, he ran the War Room and directed the battles from there. His knowledge of heroes' abilities proved indispensable as he was able to send heroes with proper abilities into appropriate situations. For his work behind the scenes, he was awarded The Freedom Phalanx Medal of Honor, Hero Corps Merit Award, and honorary titles and positions in many of the larger super groups.
In 2003, he officially retired, dedicating his life to mentoring heroes all across the globe.
A memorial service will be held tomorrow at the Founders' Falls Memorial Plaza. The body will be interred under his statue in Talos Island. The governor has requested that flags be flown at half mast in remembrance.
Tamerlane"Statesman, I feel that this is my fault. I should make amends to him. I have an idea."
"I swear on everything that's holy, Sunstorm, this is his absolutely last chance. He will go on trial and be found guilty of murder. Period."
"I understand," Sunstorm said, walking away. He turned down a corridor and went into a conference room. Closing the door, he flipped out his cell phone and pressed a button. "Lodestar."
The lights in Masonry's cell brightened, so he knew a teleport was coming through. He turned and sat up, expecting Pinkerton, the prison shrink. Instead he saw two pairs of glowing white eyes appear before the bodies formed.
Masonry's eyes narrowed. "Great. Want to gloat over your failed experiment? See the human whose life you people destroyed?"
Sunstorm had appeared and was standing behind a chair. Seated in that chair was an older man, almost bald. He looked like he had been a strong man once, with broad shoulders and thick legs, but age had made him brittle. Sunstorm spoke, "Masonry. We are very sorry."
"Sure. I'll remember that when they strap me down to get me ready for the lethal injection." He nodded to the man in the chair. "Who's that?"
"He used to be --"
The man put a hand on Sunstorm's arm and smiled. "I can still speak for myself, my friend." Sunstorm bowed his head and stepped back.
"Masonry, I've heard many things about you. Many good things."
"Good. It's over now. I'm an evil villain and not worth your time."
"I beg to differ." The man got up shakily, holding onto the back of the shair for support. Masonry watched him gather his strength, and noticed that his eyes glowed even brighter. "My apologies, but we're getting weaker by the day."
"Oh, no, I'm not falling for that shit again."
"It's a statement of fact, not an evocation for guilt. The human part of me wishes to die. I would be happy to go with him into that good night, but Sunstorm told me what has happened to you."
"And you want to help. How heroic."
"That is what we are, Masonry, heroes." He started toward Masonry, but faltered. Masonry moved like a flash and caught him before he fell.
"You look familiar," Masonry said quietly, letting the old man lean on him.
"You might have seen me around."
"What's your name?""Jack Simon. I used to be known as Powerhouse Jack."
Masonry's eyes went wide. "I used to read about you in the comic books. That was World War II stuff. You were in the Sand Kings, the ones who went behind the lines in Africa and captured Nazi soldiers." He studied him. "Most of them are dead and gone. Did you...have you always been..?"
Jack nodded sagely. "You should know from your prior bonding that we've been around for years."
Sunstorm spoke up. "Benakasar had only recently arrived in this system and had never bonded."
"That explains much. Can I sit down?"Masonry guided him to the edge of the prison cot. As he settled in, he said, "So Sunstorm tells me you've had a hell of a time. First you take something so that you can enact your version of justice against those who abused you, then your friend's armor begins to slowly kill you, as well as the drugs you're taking which cause you great pain. So to heal yourself and help a wounded creature you join instantly with a Kheldian that threatened to kill your friends, and you gave up and became the bully that you had striven to destroy those many years ago. Do I have it?"
Masonry closed his eyes and heard E-VAC's words, "How does it feel to be the big kid in the sandbox?" "I wanted to help people," he said quietly, opening his eyes.
"I know, Masonry, I know. You need to let go of the anger."
"How can I? They goad me and insult me--"
Jack shook his head. "This isn't about our friends, Masonry. If they're your true friends - and from what I've heard and seen, they are - they'll stick with you."
"I've said I'm sorry over and over-"
"And then you do things to prove you're not."
"Like what?"
"Oh, like threatening to skip town to make Guardian Pace look bad."
He closed his eyes. "That was stupid on my part."
"Yes, it was."
"He won't forgive me."
"I wouldn't. You need to prove it to him, and that'll take time."
"He doesn't want to see me anymore.""We can ask him if he's sure about that. I'm sure he's not." He studied Masonry. "But it's not about them. It's about you."
"I'm a murderer, a villain."
"If you were a villain you wouldn't have caught be before I fell."
His eyes narrowed. "So that was a test, then?"
"Not at all, Masonry. I'm getting old. I was 25 when I threw Panzers across dunes. I worked until about fifteen years ago, retired and did a lot of philanthropic work, mentoring new heroes. It's time for me to go."
"So you want my body?"
Jack folded his arms across his chest. "No. I want to help save a good man."
Masonry got up and paced the room. "How long have you been on Earth?"
"My first host was a farmboy in Greece just before the Trojan War. I've been everything from that simple farm boy to a famous military leader."
"Who, Cesear?"
"No. Timur-e Lang."
Masonry furrowed his brow.
"Also known as Tamberlaine, a Persian who conquered much of Asia after Genghis Khan."
"Oh. You've always been in the military?"
"Mostly, but not always." He smiled. "I left my resume in my other pants."
Masonry turned back to him. "I can't believe you want to help me like this, a perfect stranger."
"Like I said earlier, it's what heroes do."
The silence lasted a long time. Masonry wanted to be a hero again - he didn't remember how he had changed, why he did - all he felt was power, the want and need to destroy and show the world--
"I won't let you use me, either, Masonry."
Masonry blinked. "How did you --"
"Because I've seen that look in men's eyes when presented with the kind of power the bonding offers."
Masonry looked down.
Jack smiled. "I've been around the block a few times, Masonry. You can't fool me, and neither can the Renegade."
"He's dead."
"No, he's not."
"Yes, he is."
"Part of him will always be in you. It's why you still want to kill your friends because of what they're doing. He took the anger you felt about your abusers and put it on everyone who tells you what to do. That includes your friends."
"I guess I'm stupid."
"No, Masonry, gullible. And you want to please people."
He nodded. Jack stood up shakily. "Masonry, you don't have to make a decision right now. I'm not going anywhere."
"Can...can you stay here? Talk with me some more?"
He glanced at Sunstorm, who gave the most imperceptive nod. Jack sat back down again. "I'll be happy to. Sunstorm, could you please see if we can have some lunch?"
"Of course, Lodestar."
Masonry tilted his head. "Is that your Kheldian name?"
"Yes."
As Sunstorm disappeared in a teleporting light, Jack turned to Masonry. "Do you have any girlfriends?"
"Two of them."
He chuckled. "Do you get their names confused?"
Masonry snorted. "I thought you'd get all holier-than-thou on me."
"No. You're a handsome man. I'm surprised you don't have a list as long as your arm." Jack sat back. "Tell me about them."
"I swear on everything that's holy, Sunstorm, this is his absolutely last chance. He will go on trial and be found guilty of murder. Period."
"I understand," Sunstorm said, walking away. He turned down a corridor and went into a conference room. Closing the door, he flipped out his cell phone and pressed a button. "Lodestar."
The lights in Masonry's cell brightened, so he knew a teleport was coming through. He turned and sat up, expecting Pinkerton, the prison shrink. Instead he saw two pairs of glowing white eyes appear before the bodies formed.
Masonry's eyes narrowed. "Great. Want to gloat over your failed experiment? See the human whose life you people destroyed?"
Sunstorm had appeared and was standing behind a chair. Seated in that chair was an older man, almost bald. He looked like he had been a strong man once, with broad shoulders and thick legs, but age had made him brittle. Sunstorm spoke, "Masonry. We are very sorry."
"Sure. I'll remember that when they strap me down to get me ready for the lethal injection." He nodded to the man in the chair. "Who's that?"
"He used to be --"
The man put a hand on Sunstorm's arm and smiled. "I can still speak for myself, my friend." Sunstorm bowed his head and stepped back.
"Masonry, I've heard many things about you. Many good things."
"Good. It's over now. I'm an evil villain and not worth your time."
"I beg to differ." The man got up shakily, holding onto the back of the shair for support. Masonry watched him gather his strength, and noticed that his eyes glowed even brighter. "My apologies, but we're getting weaker by the day."
"Oh, no, I'm not falling for that shit again."
"It's a statement of fact, not an evocation for guilt. The human part of me wishes to die. I would be happy to go with him into that good night, but Sunstorm told me what has happened to you."
"And you want to help. How heroic."
"That is what we are, Masonry, heroes." He started toward Masonry, but faltered. Masonry moved like a flash and caught him before he fell.
"You look familiar," Masonry said quietly, letting the old man lean on him.
"You might have seen me around."
"What's your name?""Jack Simon. I used to be known as Powerhouse Jack."
Masonry's eyes went wide. "I used to read about you in the comic books. That was World War II stuff. You were in the Sand Kings, the ones who went behind the lines in Africa and captured Nazi soldiers." He studied him. "Most of them are dead and gone. Did you...have you always been..?"
Jack nodded sagely. "You should know from your prior bonding that we've been around for years."
Sunstorm spoke up. "Benakasar had only recently arrived in this system and had never bonded."
"That explains much. Can I sit down?"Masonry guided him to the edge of the prison cot. As he settled in, he said, "So Sunstorm tells me you've had a hell of a time. First you take something so that you can enact your version of justice against those who abused you, then your friend's armor begins to slowly kill you, as well as the drugs you're taking which cause you great pain. So to heal yourself and help a wounded creature you join instantly with a Kheldian that threatened to kill your friends, and you gave up and became the bully that you had striven to destroy those many years ago. Do I have it?"
Masonry closed his eyes and heard E-VAC's words, "How does it feel to be the big kid in the sandbox?" "I wanted to help people," he said quietly, opening his eyes.
"I know, Masonry, I know. You need to let go of the anger."
"How can I? They goad me and insult me--"
Jack shook his head. "This isn't about our friends, Masonry. If they're your true friends - and from what I've heard and seen, they are - they'll stick with you."
"I've said I'm sorry over and over-"
"And then you do things to prove you're not."
"Like what?"
"Oh, like threatening to skip town to make Guardian Pace look bad."
He closed his eyes. "That was stupid on my part."
"Yes, it was."
"He won't forgive me."
"I wouldn't. You need to prove it to him, and that'll take time."
"He doesn't want to see me anymore.""We can ask him if he's sure about that. I'm sure he's not." He studied Masonry. "But it's not about them. It's about you."
"I'm a murderer, a villain."
"If you were a villain you wouldn't have caught be before I fell."
His eyes narrowed. "So that was a test, then?"
"Not at all, Masonry. I'm getting old. I was 25 when I threw Panzers across dunes. I worked until about fifteen years ago, retired and did a lot of philanthropic work, mentoring new heroes. It's time for me to go."
"So you want my body?"
Jack folded his arms across his chest. "No. I want to help save a good man."
Masonry got up and paced the room. "How long have you been on Earth?"
"My first host was a farmboy in Greece just before the Trojan War. I've been everything from that simple farm boy to a famous military leader."
"Who, Cesear?"
"No. Timur-e Lang."
Masonry furrowed his brow.
"Also known as Tamberlaine, a Persian who conquered much of Asia after Genghis Khan."
"Oh. You've always been in the military?"
"Mostly, but not always." He smiled. "I left my resume in my other pants."
Masonry turned back to him. "I can't believe you want to help me like this, a perfect stranger."
"Like I said earlier, it's what heroes do."
The silence lasted a long time. Masonry wanted to be a hero again - he didn't remember how he had changed, why he did - all he felt was power, the want and need to destroy and show the world--
"I won't let you use me, either, Masonry."
Masonry blinked. "How did you --"
"Because I've seen that look in men's eyes when presented with the kind of power the bonding offers."
Masonry looked down.
Jack smiled. "I've been around the block a few times, Masonry. You can't fool me, and neither can the Renegade."
"He's dead."
"No, he's not."
"Yes, he is."
"Part of him will always be in you. It's why you still want to kill your friends because of what they're doing. He took the anger you felt about your abusers and put it on everyone who tells you what to do. That includes your friends."
"I guess I'm stupid."
"No, Masonry, gullible. And you want to please people."
He nodded. Jack stood up shakily. "Masonry, you don't have to make a decision right now. I'm not going anywhere."
"Can...can you stay here? Talk with me some more?"
He glanced at Sunstorm, who gave the most imperceptive nod. Jack sat back down again. "I'll be happy to. Sunstorm, could you please see if we can have some lunch?"
"Of course, Lodestar."
Masonry tilted his head. "Is that your Kheldian name?"
"Yes."
As Sunstorm disappeared in a teleporting light, Jack turned to Masonry. "Do you have any girlfriends?"
"Two of them."
He chuckled. "Do you get their names confused?"
Masonry snorted. "I thought you'd get all holier-than-thou on me."
"No. You're a handsome man. I'm surprised you don't have a list as long as your arm." Jack sat back. "Tell me about them."