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November 2010 It was early November when all the members of Young Freedom, well, all the ones on campus regularly, were summoned to the headmaster's office. Though some arrived fearlessly and others with trepediation, all of them were met with Duncan Summers and a man who was a familiar face for all of them but especially familiar to those who had helped save his life. King M'Balla, the White Lion, had recovered entirely from his trip to the Lost World, and looked a charismatic, chiseled figure in a neatly-pressed suit. His voice was low and dignified as he greeted all the teens by name, his handshake firm without being bone-crushing. He had a very faint accent, but his English was otherwise perfect. "It is a pleasure to see all of you again, and some of you for the first time." He smiled, nodding to Midnight among others. "I am an old hand with super-teams. I know how quickly you come and go. I have come to America for two reasons. One to thank you again for coming to my defense earlier, and the second to invite you to Dakana as my guests." "Mmm." Summers folded his hands, looking up at the students as they found their seats. "The White Lion and I have arranged for the members of Young Freedom to spend the week before Thanksgiving in Dakana as guests of the King. This will be a working vacation," he added with a firm look at everyone, "one in which I will expect all of you to return with a report on your observations of the kingdom, but...it will be a vacation nonetheless, as you will be excused from all but ongoing assignments for that week. Are there any questions?" Mark raised his hand and M'Balla's eyebrows furrowed briefly before he said, "Yes, Mr. Lucas?" "Are we going to see Lion, the great and powerful spirit of the people, who empowers the line of kings as his champion? Or travel to Ayesha the Immortal's realm and battle the great enemy of the Lion clan, the immortal Egyptian princess who ever seeks a worthy man as match for her great and deathless realm as co-ruler?" "....no," said the king gently, wincing ever so slightly. "I prefer to fight my own battles, rather than send the sons of my old friends and their friends to fight my enemies for me. We will climb the slopes of Kilimanjaro, dig for daka crystals with our own hands, and see the world outside of Freedom for a little while. I can promise you all adventure, but danger will, inshallah, pass us all by this time."

James nodded to himself as he took a seat. He’d sent the message to the others once he was ready. He didn’t want to meet at Claremont, not with nigh-omnipotent Summers there. He hadn’t said much in the message besides that he needed to meet with them about something relating to the “L†event. At the moment only Persephone and Phantom knew what he had in mind. While this wasn’t exactly super secret, it wasn’t something he planned on broadcasting either. This was more…off the books kind of thing. He waited for them in a parking lot of Dairy Queen, sitting on table and eating an ice cream.

James sighed, steeling himself. He talked to girl, seduced them, charmed their socks off (literally sometime) without batting an eye. He'd seen monsters and horrors without flinching. He visited hell, regularly, cry crying out loud. There was nothing he was afraid of. So why the heck was he so damn nervous? Come on. Time to man up here. He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. He settled his face and mind as best he could. He took a step and vanished. He reappeared outside the gates of Claremont. There was still some respect in him for the place, despite not going there anymore. Jumping past the gates seemed a...violation somehow. A little walk wouldn't kill him. He nodded and greeted people as he walked towards the buildings. He'd check Erin's usual haunts first. The gym, the lounge and the like before trying her room.

A couple of weeks after prom, Mark invited his friends over to his house. Well, the people who still were his friends: he wasn't really talking much to Eddie these days, but most of his colleagues from Young Freedom were on the list. He was standing outside the door of the Lucas house to greet them when they arrived, the lawn looking just a little grubbier and the house a little dingier than when the Young Freedom members had been there last. Mark himself was out of costume, but also out of the black, depressing clothes he'd been wearing most everywhere but prom for the last couple of months. In a white shirt and slacks, he looked downright respectable.

It took some doing, but if there was a student unaware of the end of the year party at the new AEON building, it wasn't for lack of trying. Now, while some students had... concerns over Alex being the entire decorating committee, when they arrived at the large ballroom near the top of the luxury building, those doubters were pleasantly surprised. The entire room was decked out in creams and dark blues, gold serving as the accent. It was both a nod to the school colors and an elegant color scheme for the high quality linens. There was a dance floor, of course, and a dj set up in the corner along with a small stage. In another corner, a photographer was set up to do professional photos. It was staffed with AEON personnell who had been gently coached to look the other way at any sudden displays of power. Alex had been over seeing the set up for much of the day, but she did vanish to her office to change and reappear shortly before the doors were scheduled to open. As tasteful as the ballroom was, it was no surprise that Alex was a bright spot of color in a dress that started in a butter yellow color at the neckline and slowly deepened to a deep red at the fluttering hem around her ankles. She was standing in the center of the dancefloor, looking up at the net of balloons attached to the vaulted ceiling, making certain that it wouldn't drop away early.

"Good morning. Freedom City. Thank you for tuning in to WXAD Channel 5 News At Noon. I'm Charles Maxfield, filling in for Summer Gleason. Our top story today: Defense Secretary Robert Gates has yet to comment on the mysterious extraterrestrial attack on America's heartland a scant twenty-four hours ago. Sources say that no telescopes or satellites picked up any aircraft, alien or otherwise, in the vicinity, and no parties have yet come forward to claim responsibility for the energy beam which shot down from the sky and carved its way across a hundred miles of Nebraska farmland. Our- Excuse me. We have just received words of an emergency here in Freedom City..." Whatever its origin, 24 hours later, at 12:00pm exactly, the skies darkened around Freedom City as a 600ft-diameter cylinder of white-hot fire poured down from the sky, blasting a crater in the Wharton State Forest. The beam persisted, carving a trench as it raced along the ground toward the ocean. And in its path stands Freedom City. "Mayday, mayday, this is Captain Aaron Crichton, Flight 89 from Los Angeles to Newark! We just saw a bright flash of light, and whatever it was sheared off most of a wing! We are going down! Repeat, we are going down! And unless we get a miracle, we're going down in the middle of Freedom City!"

James needed a break. Seriously. This schedule he’d been keeping lately was getting a bit much. Besides being ‘on-call’ 24/7 for the Guardian bit which was always busy since Phantom was still enjoying motherhood (and he couldn’t blame her for taking the time; she deserved it), he was on call for Young Freedom (which had been pretty quiet lately), the same for the Midnighters (which was never really a quiet thing). On top of that he was spending what little time was left learning about his new ship, what it could do and about 'Seph. He needed a break. Several really. He settled for short intermissions/breaks. As it was, he felt bad enough that he hadn't spent much time with Erin lately. Besides the occasional call for her help beating the tar out of some dimensional issue, he hadn't seen her. The few times he had popped over to school lately, she hadn't been around. Apparently he just kept missing her which sucked in its own way. But after what had happened with Mark's dad and the whole altered reality thing, he wasn't willing to just let it slide due to his insane life. Admittedly, it had taken him a while to get here, but still... She wasn't in the lounge, she wasn't in the simulations, so all that was left was the gym before he had 'Seph try and find her. His demon enchanced smelling would recognize her scent anywhere though and lead him to her. He walked into the gym, leaning against the door jam and just watched for a few moments.

The Freedom City Medical Center was seen as a safe haven to many before the announcement earlier today. Its staff was measured in the thousands and had state of the art medical equipment; there was no where in the world where you could get better attention. As violence swept the streets, the hospital was soon filled to the point of breaking. Now if Atlas's threat comes to pass, the hospital could very well turn into a feeding ground with a death toll measured in the thousands.

Once upon a time, before the end of the world, Erin White had been a much girlier girl. She'd had fun at sleepovers with her friends, giving and receiving makeovers and talking about boys. If everything hadn't gone careening off the rails, she would've gotten professional instructions from the Avon rep that Kathy's mom had booked for her birthday party, but even so, Erin could put on makeup without looking like a fool. But that had been in another lifetime, and she just didn't anymore. For a long time, there was absolutely no point in it, between one thing and another, and then, when she'd been released from quarantine and gotten used to being around girls who cared about their appearances, she had no money for that kind of thing. It was easier to pretend not to care and just make sure to keep her skin clean and avoid zits. Now, though, she had a job, sort of, and a scarily amazing dress, and she was going to a fancier party than anything she'd ever been invited to before. If there was ever a time, it was now. She wished Alex was around to help, but at the same time, doing it on her own protected her ego when she scoured clearance racks and tested what sort of products worked on super-resilient skin and hair. The curling iron and hair doo-dads she could borrow, at least. With Oliver watching encouragingly from the counter, she co-opted one of the girls' bathrooms on the day of the dance and spent literally most of the afternoon getting ready. Training and homework be damned, just this once. Maybe she had no chance of fitting in, but she wanted to at least look the part. All in all, she thought she did a fairly good job. After experimenting and deciding that she couldn't put her super-straight hair up in any sort of complicated arrangement by herself, she let it go and just curled the tendrils near her face, holding the rest back with a couple of sparkly rhinestone combs. The makeup was understated, it had to be with her pale skin, but it set off her lips and made her eyes look bigger and darker. She'd borrowed the shoes, too, strappy red heels that added inches to her height and a sway to her walk that she'd had to practice with a little. The dress, however, was doing most of the heavy lifting in the ensemble. Despite her concerns, Frank had done an amazing job on it, creating a calf-length showpiece in deep red charmeuse that clung as much as her costume did but somehow made her look a whole lot more feminine. He'd gone with a little more cleavage than she'd hoped, but not as much as she'd feared, so she figured they could call it even, since he'd also included the matching shorts and slit the skirt enough to let her work if she had to. Frank obviously knew his customers. The earrings and the necklace she'd found were rhinestones too, and people would probably notice at a shindig like this, but there was no help for that. They looked pretty. Oliver purred his approval as she looked at herself in front of the mirror one more time, getting up and stretching after his long stint playing moral support. "Wish me luck," she told him with a crooked smile. "I think I might be better off going into a war zone than doing this. But it'll be an adventure." Tucking her bat and her wallet into the little matching evening bag, she headed out to the common room to wait for Trevor.

James was actually amazed that nothing was going on this evening. Not a single magical or dimensional threat for as far as he could sense (which given how far along his training had progressed was pretty darn far). He was actually looking at a night off for the first time in such a long time. His first thought was to look for Erin, or any of his friends really. She wasn’t in the gym, training room or even in the lounge. None of the others seemed to be around or free either. Ah well… Well, he’d just have to make to with random parties and an evening dallying with lovely ladies. He’d just have to deal with it.

And then the kids were elsewhere. They were gone from the false reflection of Freedom Hall, standing instead on the lawn of the Lucas family house, standing among the rubble of the battlefield that had killed Mark just a few hours earlier. Except he was alive, standing there amid the group of teens, and Rick and a shell-shocked looking Martha were standing there just a few yards away. "Dad!" Mark broke from the crowd and ran to his father, just as Martha called her husband's name and ran to him. But even as they did so, the teens saw the black, inky shapes beginning to break away from Rick, flaring up into invisibility like rising soap bubbles as they left his body to flare upwards and vanish in the sky. "I'm sorry, I can't stay," he was apologizing over his family's pleas, arms around Mark and Martha both as he slowly, inexorably vanished elsewhere, some place beyond even James's dimensional vision. "The universe can't survive two reality warpers, not and let humanity keep its freedoms." He hugged Martha. "I'll see you again soon. I promise. I love you so much, heart of my heart..." He hugged Mark, his body now so thin as to be translucent. "I love you, Mark." He pulled back, on the edge of vanishing. "You've always been my hero, Mark! Always!" And with that, with a single, devastated cry from Mark's mother as she collapsed into her son's arms, Rick Lucas was gone.

Jessica prowled the rooftops. This was her first official patrol. Ever since she saved the lady a few days ago, she planned this whole thing. The Fens seemed like the perfect place to start. You'd always here on the news how some criminal activity was going down. It was like wretched hive of scum and villainy. Jessica hopped from roof top to roof top, making sure not to be seen by any one. It was mostly quiet. Which is really a good thing if you think about it. No crime? Awesome. Wait, what was that noise? Jessica peered down. No, Nock peered down. It would be time to start using that name.

James sat on the bench under the star, looking out across the campus, just thinking. It was all coming to an end. His time here. His childhood really. He wasn't exactly a good student, certainly didn't really care about the school in that way. But this is where his friends were. This is where he started that whole 'growing up' thing and finding his own 'responsibilities' bit had started for him. For that, he'd miss this place. He missed his friends already, though much of that was simply from his being so busy lately. Yeah, he was still part of the team (as far as he knew0 but that didn't mean he'd really seen people a lot lately. Heck, when was the last time he'd even hung out with Erin for more than an hour? Weeks maybe? And while he enjoyed her company quite a bit, an hour a few times a week sucked was all he'd been able to give her lately. There was just so much to do; he was overloaded and knew it. But damn he missed his friends.

Flashes of ionic energy propelled the young heroes to an all-too-familiar place; the spots on the sidewalk where they'd watched Mark Lucas die just a few hours earlier. If time itself hadn't changed, that is. The Lucas house was a quiet, peaceful place in an idyllic neighborhood, just as it had always been in the real world for the heroes who'd visited there. An unfamiliar old man, looking as old as Trevor's grandfather in the real world, clad in a sweater-vest and bow-tie was trimming the hedges of the house next door, humming an amiable tune as he worked. There was no sign of the horrific events that had happened in this place earlier today, but of all the places in Freedom City, why would there be?

A wall of black, whirling dots of ink exploded over everything, battering through James' dimensional barrier an instant after sweeping away the whole world around it. And then... - James Prophet woke up to the gentle beeping of his compu-alarm, the whirring of his electro-bed a gentle reminder of the very pleasant way he'd fallen asleep. He sat up wearily, listening to the hum of the stabilizers that kept his flying saucer in orbit of Earth. Rising to his feet, he caught sight of his face in a reflective surface of polished metal and paused. Wasn't that right? He was Hell-Ion, the half-blooded son of the crown prince of Lucifer-1, the biggest planet in the Antares system whose inhabitants had evolved red skin and ionic-wielding powers to protect themselves from the sun's red radiation. But he'd sided with his mother's people, not his father's, and become the guardian of the planet he'd once hoped to invade. Was that right? No. No, because when he looked in the mirror, he saw who he was. He was James Prophet, prince of Hell. This other life was patchy, with elements of his backstory hard to recall exactly, as if no one had ever bothered to write the story down completely, but he could remember his lives enough to know which one was real. - "Raven." Chris Kenzie woke up in a sitting position, peering through his mask at a very familiar face. His adopted father, Duncan Summers, was looking down at him with one of his characteristic indulgent smiles. "You fell asleep in costume again." Poking him lightly with his cane, he said, "Get upstairs and get some breakfast before your mother has my hide." The laughing acrobat was soon on his feet, running up the steps of the Ravencave to join his adopted mother, Jasmine Summers, for a hearty bacon and eggs breakfast. It was over breakfast, sitting with his new family and laughing and talking, that he caught sight of his face in one of Jasmine's highly polished plates. And the new life suddenly half-melted, as fast as it had come. He could remember patches; his adoption, his home, his family with Duncan and Jasmine, but other things were less sure, as if they'd been changed in an awfully fast hurry. He was Chris Kenzie, Geckoman, and he remembered that much with perfect clarity. - Erin fell thirty feet, landing on her feet in a lush, luxurious lawn. Coming to her senses, she realized she was standing beside the old Freedom Hall, the massive old mansion that had stood there before the Terminus Invasion and had once been the headquarters of the Freedom League. The sound of traffic was loud in her ears. Peering through the giant hedge between her and the street, she saw a scene like something out of an old movie; classic cars, men in suits, and women in needleskirts and pillbox hats that reminded her of pictures of Jackie Kennedy. But she hadn't traveled in time, she saw, not when she saw a young man walking along and listening to his iPod. The last thing she remembered was the end of everything. - Trevor Hunter woke up with a feeling of great loss, the way he always did on the anniversary of his parents' deaths. But Travis was there to comfort and steady him, as always, the greying-haired champion of justice a rock as they carried flowers to the graves of Ted Hunter and Janet Pryce-Hunter. Behind them was Margery, his grandfather's never-failing secretary, who'd stayed young and vital as long as Travis had thanks to their infusions of the Infinity Formula Midnight had taken from Wilhelm Kantor. It was raining just a little, enough that the smooth, polished marble reflected Trevor's face back at him as he and his grandfather recited the oath they'd taken to avenge any unjust killings like those that had taken his father and Travis' son. And it was then he remembered that his parents were alive. They'd abandoned him for Paris, left him in the care of an old man who lived alone, his favorite secretary long since dead. Patchy as the false life was, he could remember details of it, but there was no doubt in his mind about which story was which. He was Midnight II...but not this Midnight II. - Eve woke up as her cousin threw a pillow at her face. "Eeeeve! Wake up! Wake up you silly sleepyhead!" Faith gave her a big raspberry. "You'll be late for your recital!" "Fine, fine," grumbled Eve, who'd never been a morning person. She slid out of bed, headed for the bathroom, and started brushing her teeth. She looked in the mirror, saw the toothbrush blocking her mouth, and remembered. She was the hottest teen musician in Freedom City, she was a powerful psychic teen hero, she had a cute boyfriend with a nice smile. But that was a lie, wasn't it? She was Sage, and she remembered everything.

It was a quiet Memorial Day weekend around Freedom City, one quiet enough that many of Freedom City's superheroes (including its teenage contingent) went out of town to visit their families over the weekend, or go elsewhere with their families to enjoy the long weekend. Claremont Academy was hosting a barbecue for the kids who had no place to go, but there were plenty of other things to do in and around campus. Until, that is, the emergency alert went off: it rang first for the members of Young Freedom, jangling through the communicators they all carried, but then it began beeping frantically all across campus. This was a school emergency, requiring the attention of many of the teenage heroes at Claremont who weren't affiliated with Young Freedom. The Freedom Leaguer Siren had been visiting campus for the holiday, perhaps to visit her old friend Duncan Summers, and she quickly took charge of the emergency. "Everyone who can help, follow me! If you can't get yourself quickly, find a teleporter, flier, or speedster, and follow the distress call." She took out her League transponder and fiddled with it quickly, her scientist's fingers moving fast over the hand-sized piece of high technology. "If you have to get there on your own, use League coordinates 08401-08406. That'll put you in Ashton, right at...oh, by the loa, it's Rick Lucas' house." Siren had been on the old Freedom League; the ageless beauty had been there since the 1960s. She knew Rick Lucas, the former mascot-cum-junior member of the Silver Age League, and of course his son, Claremont student Mark Lucas, very well indeed. "Quickly now!"

3 or 4 years ago, April Fool’s Day; early morning at the Prophet Mansion: James slowly and gently closed the door, breathing a sigh of relief. He looked around the door carefully, making sure that no sign of his little ‘trick’ could be seen. Satisfied, he slumped his shoulders in exhaustion as he quickly walked down the corridor. Sure, didn’t seem to need much sleep anymore but that was relatively new. And he’d been up all night arranging this little practical joke. He finally got his room, the smallest and most removed room in the entire place. It was in the basement unsurprisingly. Getting there, he flopped down onto his bed, reviewing the plan in his head one last time. It had taken him weeks and weeks to quietly collect whipped cream and keep it hidden, not mention relatively fresh. Then, filling hundreds and hundred of balloons with it and leaving them out long enough for the cream to go bad had been a real trick. It wasn’t like they left him unattended for long. Or that they didn’t search his room regularly. Well, he couldn’t prove the last one, but he suspected it. The actual placing all of them outside the various doors was easy by comparison as was rigging them to pop/explode when the door was opened. Now, hopefully when his ‘loving family’ **scoff scoff** opened their doors in the morning, they’d be treating with one heck of a stinky bath. He just had to make sure he was somewhere far from there when it happened. Which brought him to his second plan. He reached over and picked up a set of shiny keys off the dresser and smiled. He thought his Uncle’s car was pretty cool but had never been allowed near the thing shockingly enough. But now…now was the time for a test spin. After another moment, he got up and stretched. He’d never get out of the house without being noticed. It was a minor miracle he hadn’t been noticed setting up his little ‘prank’. But as he’d recently discovered, he had new abilities to help. He concentrated and a moment later he appeared in the large garage, staggering a little. He was still getting used to that. He moved over to his Uncle’s prized car. A beautifully restored red and white muscle car. A Chevelle. Very nice. He twirled the keys in his hand as he approached the car, grinning. He crouched down and placed a little something under the car before getting in the driver’s seat. Starting the car up, he slowly backed out. Where the car had been was now empty, save a tiny matchbox replica that is. He was just gonna drive it around a little, and then park it somewhere else. It’d drive his Uncle nuts to see just the little toy car and go looking. And what could go wrong with James just driving it around a little?

9:45 pm, March 12, 2010 The pops of pistol fire echoed over police band. "Requesting immediate support on Erin Drive! We are under attack by multiple unknown assailants!" More shots rang out, followed by a high-pitched squeal of pain. "Plants! The damn pl..." The channel went dead. "Rodriguez! Officer down!" Heavy breathing and running footsteps. "Officer down! Need EMS at..." A strange, wet splat echoed in the microphone. Silence. "Units 14 and 15, situation report. Officer Rodriguez, Officer Johns, please respond." All units be advised. Officers down. Shots fired in the vicinity of 315 Erin Drive, Lantern Hill. Units A14 and A15 on scene. Suspected meta-human activity. EMS, Fire and STAR en route. ---- Minutes earlier... A green meteor streaked across the misty skies of Freedom City. Long and needle-like, the falling star cut through the rain and twinkled as it neared the horizon. With a burst of green light, one thin, green line broke into five, showering Wharton Forest and northwestern Freedom City. The winds whipped up in protest. Deep in the heart of Wharton Forest, a small, twisted tree stirred. Leaves sprouted and the trunk bent to look at the sky. Glowing yellow eyes shined from deep within the foliage. A low rumble emanated from the branches themselves. Those of telepathic persuasion felt a dark signal creeping from the forest. My children, the Prophesy is at hand. Bring me the shards of the Green Star. Tonight we shall reclaim the city in the name of the Green!

James stretched, cracking his neck before blinking out and reappearing back at school. He was tired. Not sleepy tired. More ‘been running around all over the place, dealing with magical and dimension problems for the last 6 hours’ kind of tired. He was pretty knowledgeable in the magic stuff, true. And while he could sense magic and dimensional traces, they were still often limited and indistinct, which basically meant a lot of running around for him while Phantom would have just known where to go with a thought. And so he was running around a lot trying to take up the slack. Who knew that actually caring about a job and following through could be this hard? He really needed to work on this magic stuff more. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, enjoying the quiet and stillness of the room for once. He needed a five minute break before heading out again. He had a lot to do. But not ten seconds of sitting down, there it was. That tingle on the edge of his awareness, telling him something was off on the dimensional borders. “Gotta be kidding me,†he said wearily as he sat up with a groan.

James was tired of all this cold and snow. He liked warm weather. And there were certain fun activities associated with winter; it still wasn’t his favorite time of the year. It got dreary too. Wore on people too. He’d had enough of it. He couldn’t change the seasons, but he could certainly make some minor adjustments. And now that he had some good friends who’d enjoy the change, he’d make it happen. A rather nice, if small, resort outside of the city was in their slow period. They were more than willing to rent the entire facility to James. A few dozen bungalows, a large pool, a volleyball court. Perfect place for a party of a couple hundred people easy. Saturday and Sunday would be pretty crowded. Not that there would be that many at first of course. Friday was just for a smaller group. Those who knew about their powers mainly, or at least those would wouldn’t reveal anything. Some would be heroes, others not. Well, the others that is. James didn’t really have a secret life given the Family name. James had showed up early on Friday. It took a little while for the snow to melt, the water in the pool to warm up nicely and the ground to dry. It was just like afternoon in the middle of summer, within the confines of the little resort anyway.

The snow had hit Freedom City hard. Not quite as badly as some cities further south, but they'd gotten a few inches dumped on them, enough to make the roads treacherous and hero work a misery, even for those who were immune to most weather effects. It wasn't easy to fight crime you couldn't even see. But with the snow still falling quietly outside, it was a good night to snuggle in under the covers, or, for those who weren't sleeping types, to hole up indoors and try to relax a little. James hadn't had as much time to relax lately as he was used to, with all the extra work he was doing outside the school, but he managed to make his way to the common room tonight, as he still did a couple of times a week. Erin was there already, like she usually was when she wasn't busy with her own training. From the look of her windburnt cheeks and hands, she'd been training tonight already, and had likely only avoided frostbite thanks to her healing abilities. She looked up from the Sunday newspaper she was reading and gave him a nod of greeting. "Hey, I see you're staying where it's warm tonight. Smart," she added with a wry grin.

James had been miserable, sulking really. It was nice to breathe clean air again and all; it had been years since he'd last breathed clean air (to him anyway, not that he needed to). But it still smelled like ash, just like food. Everywhere he looked all he saw was what could have been. How much damage he could have cause. What he had done. He wasn't the type of person who really felt guilt. It was a strange feeling to him. But currently that was dominating his emotions. He felt like crap and there was really nothing he could do about it. He was back at the school, not because he cared about studying or not having anyplace else to go, but because...it was where his friends were. Are. Maybe were. He wasn't sure they were still friends despite them saving him. They could have done that as side-effect for saving the world; a kind of two-fer. He'd certainly done and said things to them that were far from friendly. He still missed them, even if he wasn't sure if he should approach them. So he'd spent the last few days kind of lurking in the outskirts, unsure of himself or even what to do. He wasn't even paying attention to where he was going, just walking randomly as the rest of the school slept.

It was a gloomy day near the end of November when Mark decided to call Taylor Chun, having spent a long day at home in his father's study reading up on the City of Brass. Amid all the horrors and wonders of the demonic invasion earlier in the month, those taunting words from the demon in the graveyard had stuck with him. He knew perfectly well what the City of Brass was, of course, he'd been raised on stories of the place for much of his life. Azim-al-Aziz, his grandfather's friend and ally during the Second World War, had been a prince of the City of Brass, an efreet kidnapped by Nazi sorcery and held in their clutches before being rescued by the Liberty League. It was supposed to be a wonderful, magical place where the Arabian Nights had never ended, a place where a thousand wonders lay just beyond the veil. But he'd never visited there himself; his grandfather had passed on a warning that with the end of the Second World War, Azim-al-Aziz had encouraged his people to seal up their dimension to make sure they could never be taken against their will again. That also meant they didn't visit Earth much anymore. With the issue still nagging at him as he sat in his dorm room, Mark had decided to phone a friend. That's what friends were for, wasn't it? As his cell rang, the rain outside stopped. Maybe today was going to be a good day after all.

The envelope was plain, no stamp or return address. There were just two handwritten lines on it. Inside was a hand-written letter. Not exactly neat and crisp, it was definitely James's handwriting. To whoever reads this (Hopefully Erin or one of the YF crew): If you're reading this, then I'm gone (or you opened it before you were supposed to; a distinct possibility given you guys; one reason I'm not saying where I am). I failed and hopefully I'm dead. Seems odd to write that but it's true. And if I did win, I'll have torn this up before you ever read it and it won't matter either way. Anyway, yeah. I'm gone. I went to fight my last battle. I know you guys would have been willing to help, but it wasn't your fight. And the thought one of you guys being killed or damned because me was not something I was willing to accept. This was my fight. My choice, right Erin? Anyway, I've chosen my side. He can burn down there for eternity. I've been keeping something from my friends, you guys, a big thing. Erin knows but that's 'cause she found me when I was sleeping. I probably wouldn't have told her otherwise; not like I could hide it after that. I can lie better than almost anyone but that one would be tough to cover. Anyway, I suppose it helped cement our friendship; those early late nights when neither of us was exactly trusting. Glad she forgave me for almost stabbing her. Gonna miss hanging out with you. If I never said it: Thanks for being my friend Erin. You'll never know how much it's meant to me. All of you guys mean a lot to me. I've never had real friends before you know. You guys were the first. Lots of people might think I'm their friend; I'm certainly good at convincing people to think it. But you guys are the real thing. When I was growing up, I was never let out of the Family's sight. Never went to a real school. Even among the Family, I wasn't exactly welcomed with open and loving arms. (I didn't learn why until a few years ago.) They weren't exactly willing to risk it. Despite the stuff I had and things I could and did possess, friends were not one of them. I kind of struck out on my own, created a ˜new me' who didn't need people. Just used them and did whatever I chose. When I learned the truth about myself, it just reinforced that part of my persona. And made it apparent that I shouldn't share anything beyond that. That's the James who came here. Who was met by Mark and that priest (still ticks me off how they tried to rub my face in it). Who I am, the way I act is part of that. But since then, you guys relied on me, made me part of the Young Freedom (it's still a dorky name Mark). So I changed, a little at a time. I still did the dating and partying and having fun. And yeah, I've done some less-than-good-guy things still (Zoe: if you're reading this, you're on your own if you want to finish. I don't think you should continue but follow your heart. It'll work out.) But I didn't use you guys. Just the opposite really. I did things for you that had no really benefit for me. A first I suppose. You were and are my friends. But still I didn't tell you or even hint at the truth. I didn't want to lose you guys. It wasn't exactly a minor thing. I know we've seen weird things and people have weird secrets and stuff. This just seemed a bit bigger. How can you ask people to look at you the same way after they know the truth about you? Just wasn't something I wanted to¦ something that I just couldn't do. So, for lying to you guys, I'm sorry. Even now, I'd rather keep it to myself than come clean so you don't think the worst about me. Hopefully I'm dead and gone and not coming back. That it's all worked out for the best. But¦there's a chance, there's always a chance, things will go wrong and 'I' will be back. If so, just remember that James is gone. Whoever is left is not your friend. Get a holy weapon or something, fight on holy ground. That's the only way to put 'me' down for sure. True faith, true holy stuff. Get a good priest if you need to. It's the only way to really kill a demon you know. And this demon (half anyway) will be the one to destroy the world or so they say. Do what you have to. Don't hesitate or hold back. Be the heroes you are all meant to be. Little downer there. Hopefully it won't happen, but had to hedge my bets right? Hopefully it'll all work out and I'll be back before dawn and no one will ever know. If my will ever kicks in (in like 7 years since that's how long missing persons have till declared dead), I hope you enjoy it. Till then, be safe. Enjoy life. Be happy. Sorry for not being able to tell you the truth. Thank you all for being my friends. James

That day started like so many others in Freedom City. The sun was shining, a few light and fluffy clouds in the sky. People went about their business as usual. The day started like any other; but it certainly didn’t stay that way… The first warning was quiet, subtle even if there wasn’t a lot of lead up time. Seers and psychics, ESPers and precogs felt like someone shoved a hot needle in their brain as the horror of what was coming crashed over them like a tidal wave. They saw the destruction of everything, the death of all life coming. And not just coming eventually; it was standing on their doorstep and knocking. The coming event and the things they saw crushed them and kept them from doing anything but try and pull themselves together. Elsewhere: At the base of Centurion’s statue, a young man appeared. He seemed to have arrived in mid-stride. His skins was dark reddish-brown, his eyes were black. Beyond that, he could have been human. He looked around the park, taking everyone in with his contemptuous gaze. He turned and looked up at the symbol for righteousness and all that was good in the city and sneered. He threw his hands forward and massive lances of black flame struck the statue. For an instant the statue held, before breaking off at the knees and falling backward. The tremor from the impacts was felt for hundreds of yards. Quickly, the broken legs of the statue became darker, an ugly color of stone as they changed. An arc formed, connecting the two towering stone legs. The space between flickered changed and, with a tear that screamed into the horrified citizens, a rent in the fabric of the world opened and filled the space with a gateway. On the other side, waiting, stood rank after rank after rank of nightmares of various shapes and sizes. With a roar and scream, the demonic horde charge through the opening as their summoner leaned against a pillar and smiled coldly. Everywhere: Across the city, the sky darkened. This was no eclipse, there were no clouds. It was as if the sun died and went out. While it was dark, a harsh reddish glow filled the city with enough light to see. The gloom of a hellish eternal night settled over the city. The city itself began to change. Slowly at first, starting in the city center and quickly moving outward. Grass and plants withered and died; just dead husks as the life was drained from them. Roads became pitted and cracked as if they had not been used in ages. There were splits in the earth where magma burst forth, creating new rivers of destructions. Fire burned everywhere; some just springing into being. Even the buildings and landscape were altered. Things twisted and changed; sometimes no longer even recognizable. Everything took on a dark and malicious appearance. Horrific creatures, demons of all shapes and sizes quickly appeared. Some came from the hellish glow in the city center while others came from the numerous small portals that opened everywhere. A wave of fear, terror, hatred, sadness and hopelessness seemed to engulf the city. People shook in fear, cowered or ran. They knew in their souls the end had come and they were powerless to stop it. Nowhere was safe now. No place was untouched. The world of heroes was over. Suffering and death was all that remained. Freedom City was gone. Hell had come to Earth and it wasn’t going anywhere… Amidst the darkness, amidst the terrified people, there were those that stood strong. Those who shook off the darkness and rose above it despite how it ate at the center of their being. They could still feel this new city/world trying to tear them down, but they were strong enough to fight through it. The world may have gone to hell, but not everyone was willing to give up and quit. Some were not going to go down without a fight… Over in the North End, visible for miles around, a pillar of golden-white light rose to pierce the darkness. It shone like a beacon in the tainted city; a sign that not everywhere was changed; not everywhere was Fallen. It called to the hearts and souls of the terrified people. Hope wasn’t completely gone yet. heading to Liberty Park in Riverside It had been a rough week for the young heroes. After James was lost at the cemetery, it wasn’t an easy thing to bear. And it wasn’t hard for them to guess what was coming. It was only a matter of time after all. They were gathered in their base when the other shoe dropped. The lights dimmed, colors changed. Things go darker, both physically and emotionally. Their less than cheering moods were now mirrored in the world around them. It was time. Now they just needed to know where to go. What they would do when they go there? That was still a little fuzzy.