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Random Acts of Kindness

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Writing sappy stories, ones that bring tears to my eyes, is something I like to do when I feel down. The purpose of this thread is to give a place for those, and any stories anyone wishes to share. A collection of the Crowning Moments of Heartwarming on the site. Unrestricted by canon or continuity. A chance for even the site's darkest characters to show that fighting evil is not all there is to being a hero. If you think of any stories you want to share, then please write up a short vignette and post it here.

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His name was James Harwood. It used to be he was known as The Human Jet, back in the fifties. He had been a hero once. Fighting the good fight over the skies of St. Louis. He still remembered his fights against the Red Duke over who ruled the skies. Busting the mafia organization of The Big Cheese. Matching wits with the trickster spirit Coyote. It was a long career. One that ended when he had his last duel with the Duke, fighting to protect his wife. The Duke had fallen into the Mississippi, and hadn't been seen since. But not before he broke Jame's back with his force gauntlets, making sure the Human Jet could never use his signature jet-boots ever again.

James lost all feeling in his lower body. The nerves had been severed, crushed. He was paralyzed below the waist. But he had found comfort in his wife, and the son they had. James Jr. eventually became Ramjet, using an upgraded version of his father's boots. James Sr. was proud to see it. Proud to see his son in the papers, fighting the good fight. And in time Junior even got married himself. To one of his former enemies in fact: Firebug. And their child, James' granddaughter, was so beautiful. James' life...was idyllic. Blessed.

Until the Terminus Invasion.

When Omega invaded Ramjet and Firebug took to the skies to fight off the armada over St. Louis. And James had watched in horror as his son was torn apart before his eyes by the blast of one of Omega's warships. Half of Firebug was caught in the blast. She died two days after Omega was driven off. The doctors told him it was peaceful. That she couldn't feel anything in the end. James...could only hope that. The grief had been so much for his wife. He thought that loosing their son had broken her. Caused her body to simply stop one day.

James still had his granddaughter though. He raised her well. Poured all his love into her. She had always been hot headed. So much like her mother. They fought so often, but would always make up. The last time...the last time. He couldn't remember what stupid thing they had fought over. He hated that. He hated that he couldn't even remember that. Because that had been the day the Grue invaded again. One of their monstrosities had held her hostage, killed her, before the heroes had ever arrived.

And now here was James Harwood. Alone. His family dead, his friends and compatriots all gone. The last of the old generation of heroes in St. Louis. Here he sat in his apartment. So empty now. Quiet. Except when the nurse came with his medicine, trying to cheer him up. He was young though. He couldn't recognize the signs of what was truly wrong.

James Harwood was a man waiting to die. Waiting for his body to run down like his wife's had. He sat alone in the dark, looking out the window as a songbird perched there, flapping here and there. Blue jay. It had been his wife's favorite.

The painful memories brought tears to his eyes. All the pain and fear and despair swelling up as an out of control flood. He hated this. He hated living with the ghosts and the memories. He hated that he had been the one to bury his child and grandchild. He hated that now he was truely alone. He broke down sobbing.

"Why? Whywhywhywhy!? Why God? why...."

His tear-fogged gaze focused on the bird. To fly. He had loved flying. His wife had, his son had. It was in his family. In his blood. He wanted to simply jet away from the pain. "Please...just once more....I want to fly away from this..."

James grabbed his windowsill, head down, and sobbed weakly in his utter misery.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It was the bird...or the wind brushing something against his window. He looked up, tears still obscuring his vision. Even then though, he could see the bird was gone. All he could distinguish were white and gold. He wiped his eyes and looked again. There was a man floating in the air there, a white cape fluttering the the passing breeze. He couldn't see the man's face...the sun was right behind him. A warm voice wrapped around him.

"You aren't alone Mr. Harwood. You are never alone... Do you...Do you still feel like taking that one last flight?"

More tears flowed as James opened the window. But these were different. Memories of better times swept in with the breeze, clearing out the dark, stagnant air. Kissing his wife where he had flown them to atop the Arch. His son showing him his Ramjet costume for the first time. His granddaughter whispering 'I love you Gramps', even as she left that last time....

A smile cracked across his lips, as he took the hand outstretched before him....


The nurse knocked on the door.

"Mr. Harwood, sir? I'm here for your checkup."

There was no answer.


He unlocked the door and stepped inside. There was his wheelchair, at its usual spot next to the window. But the window...it was wide open, a blue jay chirping on the windowsill.


He dashed forward, sticking his head out, looking down to the streets far below. But nothing. No one crowded around a fallen corpse, no onlookers. No sign of Mr. James Harwood.

It might have been his imagination, since he had never heard the sound. But somewhere far off, the nurse thought he heard Mr. Harwood's voice...giving a laugh of joy...

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