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Mar. 27th, 2008 05:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bzarcherJust an idea that's been bouncing around the last few days, and I decided to see about putting it on 'paper'.
Paragon City.
Present Day.
Draw. Aim. Release.
Thock.
Running backwards as hard as he dared, the man in the dark blue tights and red boots tried to open some distance for himself down the street in Skyway City. Raising a bow in one hand, his free hand went for an arrow in the quiver hung over his shoulder.
Draw. Aim. Release.
Thock.
Struggling to control his breathing, his eyes swept back down the street, looking for another target. That was...five? No. Six. There were 8 Supa Trolls trying to hit the bank when I ran into them. That means two left...if I can take them down.
Stupid to do this without backup, and he'd known it! Nobody else from the Guild had been in the area according to the police band and hero band radios tucked into his ear. He could have tried putting out a general broadcast, but there hadn't been time when he'd run into them. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop was a pretty fast way to get around when you couldn't fly, leap for a half mile, or teleport...but it sometimes left you in a bad situation.
8 regular Trolls would have been a tall order. They were much stronger and more durable than he was. Not to mention the shotguns and assault rifles a lot of them carried. Supa Trolls, ODing on Dyne and made even bigger, stronger, tougher? About the only good news was that much Dyne also made them too dumb to use guns.
"HERO!"
Snapped out of his bout of self-accusation, he jerked to his right and the source of the sound - one of the two remaining Supa Trolls, looking a bit burnt and bloodied, with a few of his arrow shafts sticking out the Troll's chest and arm where the wounds had already regenerated shut around them.
"CATCH, HERO! CATCH!"
Grunting with effort even as the hero tried to get his bow on target, the Troll flung what had been a peacefully uninvolved dumpster through the air. Dropping the arrow, he tried to avoid the dumpster by hurling himself to the side, but the Troll had thrown it a bit harder than his reflexes could adjust for, and when the heavy container crunched to the ground, it squashed his trailing leg beneath it.
"aaaaaaaaaAAAA!"
Gasping for breath after the shock and pain lanced through him, the hero's vision swam as he heard the Troll stomp closer, chuckling to itself. Darkness was creeping around the edges of his vision, and he could see the emergency MediCom beacon start to flash on his wrist. If he was lucky, he'd get teleported to a hospital before he got beaten too badly. If he was really lucky, he might get spotted by another passing hero and get saved. Just as he thought that, he felt more than saw the dumpster shoved away like an empty beer can, and a massive hand grabbing the front of his shirt and lifting from the ground.
"Hero doesn't catch good. Heh heh heh. TROLLS throw STRONG. TROLLS STRONGEST THERE IS!"
Much as he wanted to make some kind of witty retort, the hero's shocked system had enough at that point, and instead the blackness swallowed him up.
Woonsocket, Rhode Island
17 years ago.
Draw. Aim. Release.
Thock.
Draw. Aim. Release.
Thock.
Draw. Aim. Release.
Thock.
Letting his bow slide to a resting position, the boy smiled. Three shots, two of them in the X ring and the other in the ten! The match tomorrow was going to be easy if he kept this up! Relaxing from his shooting stance, he almost jumped out of his skin at the voice behind him.
"Good set, Davey."
"Dad!"
Grinning, he quickly put his bow back into its' case and ran over to his father with the joy of a 9 year old whose dad has just come home from a long trip. "Mom said you weren't going to make it back before Sunday! I'm so glad you're home!"
Leaning down to meet his son's hug, Robert Reed smiled and then groaned a bit as he straightened up. "What, and miss you at the meet tomorrow? I couldn't do that." Looking at the competition target, he whistled. "Not bad at all there, champ. Did you even hit anything outside of the 7 ring today?"
Davey looked a little embarassed. "I did OK. I've been practicing really hard while you were gone! Granpa called and told me a bunch of stories, and I really wanted to -"
"What stories did Dad tell you?" Davey seemed a little surprised about being brought up short.
"Not bad ones, dad. He just told me about when he was in the Olympics."
"Oh." Robert seemed to sag, slightly. "Sorry, Davey. Talking with Granpa about the Olympics is fine. Dad just...well, you know he has some trouble remembering things, now. I don't want him to fill your head up with nonsense. We have to help take care of him."
Nodding, Davey (actually, David), crossed his heart. "I promise, dad. I'll help you and Mom take care of him."
"That's good. Now, pack things up, and I'm gonna take everybody out for some pizza."
"Yay!"
The match went well. David had been surprised by a Kid from Cranston who showed up at the Meet and managed to sweep away with first place, but he'd still placed well enough for silver. His grandfather'd been grumpy about it, though. "Kid's a ringer! Never saw him around here before, probably never will again!"
"It's all right, Dad. We're still proud of Davey, right?"
"'Course we are. Always proud of my grandson! Always proud."
Robert took the trophy David had won, and put it up on the mantleplace (along with several other first, second, and third place trophies from the local FITA chapter), flanking the large display plaque which held a gold medal marked with "1936 - BERLIN" and a set of the olympic rings.
After some celebratory ice cream and soda, Davey was sent to bed, and after he was sure that he'd heard his door shut, Robert sat down with his father.
"Yes. It was a ringer, dad. A kid I found out about in the national team. And I don't want you talking about it."
"What?" Struggling to lift himself out of his chair, his face going scarlet, the eldest of the Reed household put a hand on his son's shoulder for balance as much as effect. "You hired that boy to come here and -"
"Keep Davey Safe! That's what I did! Bad enough I have to worry about him getting stories from you! If people keep noticing what he can do, someone's going to ask questions! And it's not that safe to be a Hero right now."
"I'm not the one who ran away because he was too scared!"
"I'm the one who you FORCED into it! I'm the one who wants to see his son grow up! I'm the one who took him somewhere SAFE! And that's FINAL! I don't want to hear about any more stories! You're retired, I didn't want to do it in the first place, and if I have anything to say about it, Davey never will either. It's bad enough you got him interested in the bow as it is." Eyes flashing with anger, Robert shrugged off his father's hand and turned away.
Pain and frustration warring on his face, the old man slumped back down into his chair. "Fine....fine. But I don't care how many contests you try to fix. Blood will out, and so will that boy. He's not stupid."
Robert sighed, "No...I know he isn't, Dad. That's part of why I'm worried about him."
9 years later
"Paragon U? Really?"
"They'd be great, Dad! I really liked the professors, and c'mon, it's the City of Heroes. How cool is that?"
"Pretty dangerous, if you ask me. Seems like for all those heroes, there's plenty of Villains."
Davey's face stormed up a bit. His dad had the WORST hangup with heroes he'd ever seen. When Back Alley Brawler had come to talk to his elementary school about drugs, way back, he'd pulled him out of class! So what did it matter about him going to College?
Robert recognized Davey's face slamming shut. Too hard, damn it... "Look, Davey...David. It's not that I don't think you'd be OK there. I just worry that it wouldn't be safe. I want you to go to College and learn. Have a little fun. Not have to worry about hero and villain rumbles or super gangs." He coughed, slightly, and took a letter off the kitchen table.
"You make it sound like I'd be going out to get my Hero License right after I registered for classes!"
"Plus, there's this letter we got in the mail from Johnson and Wales..."
Taking the letter, and cutting off the remark he'd been about to make, Davey's face went slack with shock as he read. "This says they want to offer me a scholarship!"
"That's wonderful, Davey. And that's something Paragon U. didn't offer...J&W actually -wants- you."
Sensing a way out of the arguement, David nodded. "I guess they do! I guess going to J&W Wouldn't be so bad...I'm gonna go tell Granpa about it."
"That's a good idea. Just don't be too long - the nurse said he needs as much rest at the hospice as he can get."
4 years later.
As David Reed ended his Junior year of college, his life had been torn apart by the death of his grandfather. He hadn't really understood why he and his father hadn't gotten along at the end of his life, but even as his grandfather's Alzheimer's had worsened, he'd been one of the central parts of his life, always there to listen and try to talk to him, even if more and more he'd called him "Bobby".
Then, the day of his grandfather's funeral, the Rikti had invaded, and it felt like the entire world had plunged into grief right along side of him. Only now, almost 6 months after his grandfather's death, had things gotten back to normal enough that they could attend to other details.
In a moment that had to be galling his father, his grandfather's last wishes had been for his will to be read at the offices of a lawyer he'd hired just for that purpose...in Paragon City. Even as he marveled a bit at the cascading energies of the War Walls and the massive Hero statues, his wonder was tinged by the obvious signs of the city still recovering from the war. Broken concrete, shattered buildings. Even one street that he'd seen cordoned off by Vanguard officers to prevent people from getting too close from what appeared to be a Rikti tank crashed halfway into a building.
His father had just sighed at shaken his head at it all, silent during their car ride, and almost withdrawn as they rode the elevator in an Atlas Park office building.
"Dad?"
"Mmm? What, Davey?"
"Are...are you gonna be ok? You really don't look well."
"I'll be all right. Your mother didn't feel like she could be here...it's hard. I know it's hard for you, too."
Reaching out, he took his father's hand. "I miss him, too."
The elevator ride felt a little easier after that, and before long they were walking into the offices of Currie, Davidson, and Smythe. It seemed that Mr. Currie, the senior partner, was to be handling the will. An older gentleman with snow white hair, he managed to remind Davey of his grandfather, even though he didn't much look like him. Just something in how he carried himself, he supposed.
"Gentlemen...I'm so sorry for your loss. Being an executor is always an unpleasant duty. Especially for a man like William."
They nodded, and Currie ushered them into a large office that smelled like leather and old wood. After they had been seated, he settled into his desk chair and took out a letter from his desk.
"I, William Preston Reed, of Woonsocket, Rhode Island, do hereby make, publish and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, hereby expressly revoking all wills and codicils heretofore made by me.
To my Son, Robert, I leave the remainder of my bank accounts and any real estate or property still in my possession, with the exceptions of property I will discuss in this document. I am sorry that we differed so strongly, and for having become a burden on you in my old age. Please try to remember that no matter what happened between us, I will always love you."
Davey reached out and squeezed his dad's hand as Robert's eyes, already welling over, closed, and he choked back a sob over the last words of his father.
Davey's head came up as Mr. Currie waited for a moment, then continued.
"To my grandson, David, I leave the only property that my Son has stated he does not wish to possess, and my intention that if he has not learned the truth about his heritage by this point, he be told at this time. I've always been proud of you, Davey. It is time you learned what your father wished kept hidden away. I have made arrangements for certain items to be given to my Executor without the knowledge of my Son, his Wife, or my Grandson. He will entrust them to you at this time. I have no doubt that you will use them well...and continue to make me proud."
Looking over at his father, he saw the color drain from his face as the end of the will was read. His hand tightened until Davey could barely feel his own fingers, then went slack as his father nearly collapsed backwards with a sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh.
Mr. Currie gave him a sympathetic look, then hit a button on his desk phone.
"Ms. Todd? Please bring in a glass of water...and the Reed box."
A pleasant looking woman in a business suit first brought in some water for Robert, then returned a few moments later with 'the box'.
Really, it was more like an old footlocker, with a heavy combination lock on the front.
"Ah...Mr. Reed", Mr. Currie looked over at Robert with a faint look of concern, "Would you prefer to step out while I give Mr. David his legacy?"
To his credit, he shook his head. "He's right...you do deserve to know, Davey. Please go ahead."
"Know what? What is all this about?"
Standing, Davey went to the trunk as it was opened, and his breath came out in a ragged gasp.
On top of several boxes he didn't recognize were three things.
An old, old longbow - probably the one his grandfather had taken to the Olympics in the first place. A dark blue jacket, almost like a uniform, with a white star on the center panel, and a domino mask made of some kind of red material pinned to the neck. And finally, a picture, yellowed with age, but...
"Is...is that Granpa?"
"Yes. Yes it is."
"That's FDR, isn't it? Why is he shaking Granpa's hand? That's not the picture you showed me from when they went to the white house after the Olympics."
Robert sighed, raking his hair back in one hand.
"No. No it isn't...your grandfather was a Hero, back then."
Davey looked at him like he'd grown an extra head. "You're joking."
"No, I"m quite serious. They called him the Freedom Bow. He decided to become a "mystery man" after he got back from visiting Nazi Germany. He fought crime, and then worked for the OSS as a spy hunter for most of the war. He's meeting FDR in that picture because he stopped a Nazi plot to blow up the Capitol building."
Somehow, the secretary knew just when to put a seat behind Davey, so he didn't fall to the floor in shock. "Freedom Bow. We -read- about him in school! They said he fought alongside of Statesman when he came to try and save Atlas!"
"Yes."
"And you...he...never told me..."
"I didn't let him. I didn't want him to! Do you know how many times he almost got killed? Your grandmother, too, god rest her! She was just like him! The Azure Avenger! I can't tell you how often they talked about almost getting killed, before you were born!"
"Grandma...oh my god."
"He talked me into doing it, too. Passing down the mantle, he said..."
"What happened?"
"Some members of the Circle of Thorns found out who your grandmother was. They ambushed her one night on her way home, and killed her."
"You said she died of a heart attack."
"I'm sorry. I lied because...I thought it was the only way to protect you. That's why I stopped. I hadn't wanted to be a Hero, really, and I was scared about your mother, and you. We moved out of Paragon City when you were a baby, and I gave up the Life. I just tried to be a normal person. Your mother and I agreed we'd never talk about it."
"But then Granpa had to come live with us."
"You were three then. Being an adventurer had taken a toll on him."
"All those years..."
"I'm sorry." Robert shuddered a bit, and began to cry again. He couldn't look at the trunk, or it's contents. Davey walked over, touching the mask and the old outfit gently. Something stirred inside him, and he closed the lid.
2 months later
"I'm transferring to Paragon U, dad. I'm going to finish my degree there."
"And then?"
"Then...I can't promise anything about what's going to happen."
"I understand, Davey...good luck."
Now.
Davey....
Ungh...
C'mon, Davey! Wake up!
Mmmgp...granpa?
You have to get up!
With a rush of cold air, the real world snapped back around Davey's head, and he realized he'd been dreaming, or something, while passed out. But he wasn't in a hospital bed or a Medicom bay, so that meant he was still in trouble.
"COLD! STUPID HEROES! HATE COLD!"
Blinking his eyes clear, Davey could see the Troll's arm and shoulder encased in a thick coating of ice that someone had blasted at him. Jerking him like a ragdoll, the Troll tossed him away, causing a spike of pain as his bad leg took the brunt of the fall. Above him, his apparent rescuer was tossing shards of ice at the Troll from midair to get its' attention.
"I saw your beacon! You OK?" She was -very much- female, slim and nordic looking (no surprise), in a blue and white outfit that was cut somewhere between "ski anorak" and "Cabaret dancer".
"Honestly? NO, but thank you!" Hauling himself up to his knees, Davey looked around. Somehow, he'd managed to land next to his bow. A little newer than Granpa's old one, a little more durable. But it worked just as well. Grabbing it and fishing around for a still intact arrow, he found one just as the Troll grabbed a manhole cover, obviously getting ready to toss it at her. "Oh, no you don't!"
Draw. Aim. Release.
Thock.
The Troll crashed to the ground as the blunted arrow struck the back of it's head hard enough to rattle whatever it had left for brains. The flyer landed, slapping a PPD tag onto the Troll so it would be teleported to a holding cell before it could wake up, then walked over, offering him a hand.
"Can you stand up?"
"Umm...no, unfortunately, I don't think so. If my whole leg isn't broken, I think the ankle is."
"OK, no problem. Lie down for me."
A blush spread from his chin to beneath the peaks of his domino mask. "OK, but usually I at least know the girl's name first." Still, he did as he was told. Fortunately, she seemed to like that - she had a pretty laugh.
"I'm Frostress. Just stay still for a second - I'm going to use some ice to make a temporary cast on your leg." After he nodded, she did just as she said, immobilizing it and numbing the pain. "So...before I give some guy off the street a ride, what's your name?"
As she slipped an arm under him to lift them both off the ground, and towards the hospital, Davey smiled.
"Freedom Bow."
(Freedom Bow is a Blaster on the Virtue server in City of Heroes. Frostress I just made up because I needed a name really fast. City of Heroes is the property of NCSoft, so please don't sue!)
Paragon City.
Present Day.
Draw. Aim. Release.
Thock.
Running backwards as hard as he dared, the man in the dark blue tights and red boots tried to open some distance for himself down the street in Skyway City. Raising a bow in one hand, his free hand went for an arrow in the quiver hung over his shoulder.
Draw. Aim. Release.
Thock.
Struggling to control his breathing, his eyes swept back down the street, looking for another target. That was...five? No. Six. There were 8 Supa Trolls trying to hit the bank when I ran into them. That means two left...if I can take them down.
Stupid to do this without backup, and he'd known it! Nobody else from the Guild had been in the area according to the police band and hero band radios tucked into his ear. He could have tried putting out a general broadcast, but there hadn't been time when he'd run into them. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop was a pretty fast way to get around when you couldn't fly, leap for a half mile, or teleport...but it sometimes left you in a bad situation.
8 regular Trolls would have been a tall order. They were much stronger and more durable than he was. Not to mention the shotguns and assault rifles a lot of them carried. Supa Trolls, ODing on Dyne and made even bigger, stronger, tougher? About the only good news was that much Dyne also made them too dumb to use guns.
"HERO!"
Snapped out of his bout of self-accusation, he jerked to his right and the source of the sound - one of the two remaining Supa Trolls, looking a bit burnt and bloodied, with a few of his arrow shafts sticking out the Troll's chest and arm where the wounds had already regenerated shut around them.
"CATCH, HERO! CATCH!"
Grunting with effort even as the hero tried to get his bow on target, the Troll flung what had been a peacefully uninvolved dumpster through the air. Dropping the arrow, he tried to avoid the dumpster by hurling himself to the side, but the Troll had thrown it a bit harder than his reflexes could adjust for, and when the heavy container crunched to the ground, it squashed his trailing leg beneath it.
"aaaaaaaaaAAAA!"
Gasping for breath after the shock and pain lanced through him, the hero's vision swam as he heard the Troll stomp closer, chuckling to itself. Darkness was creeping around the edges of his vision, and he could see the emergency MediCom beacon start to flash on his wrist. If he was lucky, he'd get teleported to a hospital before he got beaten too badly. If he was really lucky, he might get spotted by another passing hero and get saved. Just as he thought that, he felt more than saw the dumpster shoved away like an empty beer can, and a massive hand grabbing the front of his shirt and lifting from the ground.
"Hero doesn't catch good. Heh heh heh. TROLLS throw STRONG. TROLLS STRONGEST THERE IS!"
Much as he wanted to make some kind of witty retort, the hero's shocked system had enough at that point, and instead the blackness swallowed him up.
Woonsocket, Rhode Island
17 years ago.
Draw. Aim. Release.
Thock.
Draw. Aim. Release.
Thock.
Draw. Aim. Release.
Thock.
Letting his bow slide to a resting position, the boy smiled. Three shots, two of them in the X ring and the other in the ten! The match tomorrow was going to be easy if he kept this up! Relaxing from his shooting stance, he almost jumped out of his skin at the voice behind him.
"Good set, Davey."
"Dad!"
Grinning, he quickly put his bow back into its' case and ran over to his father with the joy of a 9 year old whose dad has just come home from a long trip. "Mom said you weren't going to make it back before Sunday! I'm so glad you're home!"
Leaning down to meet his son's hug, Robert Reed smiled and then groaned a bit as he straightened up. "What, and miss you at the meet tomorrow? I couldn't do that." Looking at the competition target, he whistled. "Not bad at all there, champ. Did you even hit anything outside of the 7 ring today?"
Davey looked a little embarassed. "I did OK. I've been practicing really hard while you were gone! Granpa called and told me a bunch of stories, and I really wanted to -"
"What stories did Dad tell you?" Davey seemed a little surprised about being brought up short.
"Not bad ones, dad. He just told me about when he was in the Olympics."
"Oh." Robert seemed to sag, slightly. "Sorry, Davey. Talking with Granpa about the Olympics is fine. Dad just...well, you know he has some trouble remembering things, now. I don't want him to fill your head up with nonsense. We have to help take care of him."
Nodding, Davey (actually, David), crossed his heart. "I promise, dad. I'll help you and Mom take care of him."
"That's good. Now, pack things up, and I'm gonna take everybody out for some pizza."
"Yay!"
The match went well. David had been surprised by a Kid from Cranston who showed up at the Meet and managed to sweep away with first place, but he'd still placed well enough for silver. His grandfather'd been grumpy about it, though. "Kid's a ringer! Never saw him around here before, probably never will again!"
"It's all right, Dad. We're still proud of Davey, right?"
"'Course we are. Always proud of my grandson! Always proud."
Robert took the trophy David had won, and put it up on the mantleplace (along with several other first, second, and third place trophies from the local FITA chapter), flanking the large display plaque which held a gold medal marked with "1936 - BERLIN" and a set of the olympic rings.
After some celebratory ice cream and soda, Davey was sent to bed, and after he was sure that he'd heard his door shut, Robert sat down with his father.
"Yes. It was a ringer, dad. A kid I found out about in the national team. And I don't want you talking about it."
"What?" Struggling to lift himself out of his chair, his face going scarlet, the eldest of the Reed household put a hand on his son's shoulder for balance as much as effect. "You hired that boy to come here and -"
"Keep Davey Safe! That's what I did! Bad enough I have to worry about him getting stories from you! If people keep noticing what he can do, someone's going to ask questions! And it's not that safe to be a Hero right now."
"I'm not the one who ran away because he was too scared!"
"I'm the one who you FORCED into it! I'm the one who wants to see his son grow up! I'm the one who took him somewhere SAFE! And that's FINAL! I don't want to hear about any more stories! You're retired, I didn't want to do it in the first place, and if I have anything to say about it, Davey never will either. It's bad enough you got him interested in the bow as it is." Eyes flashing with anger, Robert shrugged off his father's hand and turned away.
Pain and frustration warring on his face, the old man slumped back down into his chair. "Fine....fine. But I don't care how many contests you try to fix. Blood will out, and so will that boy. He's not stupid."
Robert sighed, "No...I know he isn't, Dad. That's part of why I'm worried about him."
9 years later
"Paragon U? Really?"
"They'd be great, Dad! I really liked the professors, and c'mon, it's the City of Heroes. How cool is that?"
"Pretty dangerous, if you ask me. Seems like for all those heroes, there's plenty of Villains."
Davey's face stormed up a bit. His dad had the WORST hangup with heroes he'd ever seen. When Back Alley Brawler had come to talk to his elementary school about drugs, way back, he'd pulled him out of class! So what did it matter about him going to College?
Robert recognized Davey's face slamming shut. Too hard, damn it... "Look, Davey...David. It's not that I don't think you'd be OK there. I just worry that it wouldn't be safe. I want you to go to College and learn. Have a little fun. Not have to worry about hero and villain rumbles or super gangs." He coughed, slightly, and took a letter off the kitchen table.
"You make it sound like I'd be going out to get my Hero License right after I registered for classes!"
"Plus, there's this letter we got in the mail from Johnson and Wales..."
Taking the letter, and cutting off the remark he'd been about to make, Davey's face went slack with shock as he read. "This says they want to offer me a scholarship!"
"That's wonderful, Davey. And that's something Paragon U. didn't offer...J&W actually -wants- you."
Sensing a way out of the arguement, David nodded. "I guess they do! I guess going to J&W Wouldn't be so bad...I'm gonna go tell Granpa about it."
"That's a good idea. Just don't be too long - the nurse said he needs as much rest at the hospice as he can get."
4 years later.
As David Reed ended his Junior year of college, his life had been torn apart by the death of his grandfather. He hadn't really understood why he and his father hadn't gotten along at the end of his life, but even as his grandfather's Alzheimer's had worsened, he'd been one of the central parts of his life, always there to listen and try to talk to him, even if more and more he'd called him "Bobby".
Then, the day of his grandfather's funeral, the Rikti had invaded, and it felt like the entire world had plunged into grief right along side of him. Only now, almost 6 months after his grandfather's death, had things gotten back to normal enough that they could attend to other details.
In a moment that had to be galling his father, his grandfather's last wishes had been for his will to be read at the offices of a lawyer he'd hired just for that purpose...in Paragon City. Even as he marveled a bit at the cascading energies of the War Walls and the massive Hero statues, his wonder was tinged by the obvious signs of the city still recovering from the war. Broken concrete, shattered buildings. Even one street that he'd seen cordoned off by Vanguard officers to prevent people from getting too close from what appeared to be a Rikti tank crashed halfway into a building.
His father had just sighed at shaken his head at it all, silent during their car ride, and almost withdrawn as they rode the elevator in an Atlas Park office building.
"Dad?"
"Mmm? What, Davey?"
"Are...are you gonna be ok? You really don't look well."
"I'll be all right. Your mother didn't feel like she could be here...it's hard. I know it's hard for you, too."
Reaching out, he took his father's hand. "I miss him, too."
The elevator ride felt a little easier after that, and before long they were walking into the offices of Currie, Davidson, and Smythe. It seemed that Mr. Currie, the senior partner, was to be handling the will. An older gentleman with snow white hair, he managed to remind Davey of his grandfather, even though he didn't much look like him. Just something in how he carried himself, he supposed.
"Gentlemen...I'm so sorry for your loss. Being an executor is always an unpleasant duty. Especially for a man like William."
They nodded, and Currie ushered them into a large office that smelled like leather and old wood. After they had been seated, he settled into his desk chair and took out a letter from his desk.
"I, William Preston Reed, of Woonsocket, Rhode Island, do hereby make, publish and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, hereby expressly revoking all wills and codicils heretofore made by me.
To my Son, Robert, I leave the remainder of my bank accounts and any real estate or property still in my possession, with the exceptions of property I will discuss in this document. I am sorry that we differed so strongly, and for having become a burden on you in my old age. Please try to remember that no matter what happened between us, I will always love you."
Davey reached out and squeezed his dad's hand as Robert's eyes, already welling over, closed, and he choked back a sob over the last words of his father.
Davey's head came up as Mr. Currie waited for a moment, then continued.
"To my grandson, David, I leave the only property that my Son has stated he does not wish to possess, and my intention that if he has not learned the truth about his heritage by this point, he be told at this time. I've always been proud of you, Davey. It is time you learned what your father wished kept hidden away. I have made arrangements for certain items to be given to my Executor without the knowledge of my Son, his Wife, or my Grandson. He will entrust them to you at this time. I have no doubt that you will use them well...and continue to make me proud."
Looking over at his father, he saw the color drain from his face as the end of the will was read. His hand tightened until Davey could barely feel his own fingers, then went slack as his father nearly collapsed backwards with a sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh.
Mr. Currie gave him a sympathetic look, then hit a button on his desk phone.
"Ms. Todd? Please bring in a glass of water...and the Reed box."
A pleasant looking woman in a business suit first brought in some water for Robert, then returned a few moments later with 'the box'.
Really, it was more like an old footlocker, with a heavy combination lock on the front.
"Ah...Mr. Reed", Mr. Currie looked over at Robert with a faint look of concern, "Would you prefer to step out while I give Mr. David his legacy?"
To his credit, he shook his head. "He's right...you do deserve to know, Davey. Please go ahead."
"Know what? What is all this about?"
Standing, Davey went to the trunk as it was opened, and his breath came out in a ragged gasp.
On top of several boxes he didn't recognize were three things.
An old, old longbow - probably the one his grandfather had taken to the Olympics in the first place. A dark blue jacket, almost like a uniform, with a white star on the center panel, and a domino mask made of some kind of red material pinned to the neck. And finally, a picture, yellowed with age, but...
"Is...is that Granpa?"
"Yes. Yes it is."
"That's FDR, isn't it? Why is he shaking Granpa's hand? That's not the picture you showed me from when they went to the white house after the Olympics."
Robert sighed, raking his hair back in one hand.
"No. No it isn't...your grandfather was a Hero, back then."
Davey looked at him like he'd grown an extra head. "You're joking."
"No, I"m quite serious. They called him the Freedom Bow. He decided to become a "mystery man" after he got back from visiting Nazi Germany. He fought crime, and then worked for the OSS as a spy hunter for most of the war. He's meeting FDR in that picture because he stopped a Nazi plot to blow up the Capitol building."
Somehow, the secretary knew just when to put a seat behind Davey, so he didn't fall to the floor in shock. "Freedom Bow. We -read- about him in school! They said he fought alongside of Statesman when he came to try and save Atlas!"
"Yes."
"And you...he...never told me..."
"I didn't let him. I didn't want him to! Do you know how many times he almost got killed? Your grandmother, too, god rest her! She was just like him! The Azure Avenger! I can't tell you how often they talked about almost getting killed, before you were born!"
"Grandma...oh my god."
"He talked me into doing it, too. Passing down the mantle, he said..."
"What happened?"
"Some members of the Circle of Thorns found out who your grandmother was. They ambushed her one night on her way home, and killed her."
"You said she died of a heart attack."
"I'm sorry. I lied because...I thought it was the only way to protect you. That's why I stopped. I hadn't wanted to be a Hero, really, and I was scared about your mother, and you. We moved out of Paragon City when you were a baby, and I gave up the Life. I just tried to be a normal person. Your mother and I agreed we'd never talk about it."
"But then Granpa had to come live with us."
"You were three then. Being an adventurer had taken a toll on him."
"All those years..."
"I'm sorry." Robert shuddered a bit, and began to cry again. He couldn't look at the trunk, or it's contents. Davey walked over, touching the mask and the old outfit gently. Something stirred inside him, and he closed the lid.
2 months later
"I'm transferring to Paragon U, dad. I'm going to finish my degree there."
"And then?"
"Then...I can't promise anything about what's going to happen."
"I understand, Davey...good luck."
Now.
Davey....
Ungh...
C'mon, Davey! Wake up!
Mmmgp...granpa?
You have to get up!
With a rush of cold air, the real world snapped back around Davey's head, and he realized he'd been dreaming, or something, while passed out. But he wasn't in a hospital bed or a Medicom bay, so that meant he was still in trouble.
"COLD! STUPID HEROES! HATE COLD!"
Blinking his eyes clear, Davey could see the Troll's arm and shoulder encased in a thick coating of ice that someone had blasted at him. Jerking him like a ragdoll, the Troll tossed him away, causing a spike of pain as his bad leg took the brunt of the fall. Above him, his apparent rescuer was tossing shards of ice at the Troll from midair to get its' attention.
"I saw your beacon! You OK?" She was -very much- female, slim and nordic looking (no surprise), in a blue and white outfit that was cut somewhere between "ski anorak" and "Cabaret dancer".
"Honestly? NO, but thank you!" Hauling himself up to his knees, Davey looked around. Somehow, he'd managed to land next to his bow. A little newer than Granpa's old one, a little more durable. But it worked just as well. Grabbing it and fishing around for a still intact arrow, he found one just as the Troll grabbed a manhole cover, obviously getting ready to toss it at her. "Oh, no you don't!"
Draw. Aim. Release.
Thock.
The Troll crashed to the ground as the blunted arrow struck the back of it's head hard enough to rattle whatever it had left for brains. The flyer landed, slapping a PPD tag onto the Troll so it would be teleported to a holding cell before it could wake up, then walked over, offering him a hand.
"Can you stand up?"
"Umm...no, unfortunately, I don't think so. If my whole leg isn't broken, I think the ankle is."
"OK, no problem. Lie down for me."
A blush spread from his chin to beneath the peaks of his domino mask. "OK, but usually I at least know the girl's name first." Still, he did as he was told. Fortunately, she seemed to like that - she had a pretty laugh.
"I'm Frostress. Just stay still for a second - I'm going to use some ice to make a temporary cast on your leg." After he nodded, she did just as she said, immobilizing it and numbing the pain. "So...before I give some guy off the street a ride, what's your name?"
As she slipped an arm under him to lift them both off the ground, and towards the hospital, Davey smiled.
"Freedom Bow."
(Freedom Bow is a Blaster on the Virtue server in City of Heroes. Frostress I just made up because I needed a name really fast. City of Heroes is the property of NCSoft, so please don't sue!)
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Date: 2008-03-28 12:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-28 01:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-28 02:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-29 02:23 am (UTC)I have a lot of friends, though, who are much better, as you know. :D It's very hard for me to get stuff down like that - what you read was...about 4 hours of headache getting it on the page, after at least 3 days of bits flitting around my head.