The Orphanage

"Maple Street Orphanage, Ms. Samovar speaking."

"Yes, can I speak with Tommy Walker, please."

 "Who's calling, please?"

 "I'm the Comet."

 "Excuse me?"

 "I'm a member of the Golden Gate Guardians. Tommy wrote us a letter asking us to come by and help fix up the orphanage. I'm calling to arrange it, if possible."

 "I see. Listen, mister. This is an orphanage, not a comedy club. I don't appreciate crank calls any more than the next person. Good-bye!"

<CLICK>

Chris looks at the phone for a moment, then shrugs and hangs up. "Looks like I'll have to give this one the personal touch."

Stephanie comes upstairs from the lab in the basement. "How did that go?"

"About as well as can be expected," answers Chris, turning to her and holding her tight.

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. Well, I can make a personal visit instead, can't I? Maybe then Ms. Samovar won't be as skeptical."

Stephanie smiles mischievously. "I'm sure the Comet can make a good impression."

"I certainly hope so. It would be pretty embarrassing to tell the others, 'Well, I tried to call but they didn't believe me so we'll just have to scrap the whole thing.'"

"This is really important to you, isn't it?"

Chris nods, looking at the phone. "People don't care much for superheroes these days; society is too cynical, I guess. Something like this can really help people see us for what we are. It's not right for them to treat heroes like this."

"It's not like they don't have reason, you know," says Stephanie.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, think about it. You can fly, you're incredibly strong, you're nigh-invulnerable-"

"No, that's the Tick. I'm just really hard to hurt."

"Well, you know what I mean. Why shouldn't they feel envy toward you? Look at Odyssey. She's beautiful, has a magic amulet and can heal people just like Jesus. How do you expect them to feel about that?"

"How can you say that? They try to make us look bad. They treat Cassie like dirt, they've condemned Knightblade before he's even been brought to trial. Even OJ didn't get the publicity those two are getting. It's crazy!"

Stephanie shrugs. "It's the way the world is."

"It doesn't have to be that way."

"So you'll try and change it, will you?"

"If I have to." Chris turns to leave the kitchen.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to the Maple Street Orphanage. I'm not going to let that little boy down."

Stephanie frowns at him. "Can't it wait? What about dinner?"

Chris stops and turns to her. "Like you said, this is really important to me. And to the others. I'm not going to let them down, either."

"What about me?"

The room is silent for half a minute.

"You don't want me to go."

"I want to have a nice evening together, we can rent a movie, sit down with some popcorn after supper and forget all the stupid people out there who make you feel so insecure about yourself."

"Insecure? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Chris. You're so worried about how this little boy feels that you'd rather go flying off to prove you're such a nice guy than spend a quiet evening with me." She gives him a hard look. "We haven't had a night to ourselves since we saw Star Wars. That's over two weeks! You're always out, 'on patrol' or something. What's the matter; you'd rather spend time with the superheroes than your own fiancée? Or is it the superheroines that you want to hang around with?"

Chris stares at her in shock. Then, in a very quiet voice, he says, "Is that what you think of me? Do you think I'm doing this because it's fun? Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life being ridiculed and attacked by both supervillains and the media? Is that what you think?" He is shouting now, his hands clenched tightly.

"Why don't you tell me?" she asks in a steady voice, although she is trembling.

"People need my help," he says. "I can make a difference, and I can't turn my back on that. I'm not going to sit back and watch the world go to hell in a handbasket when I can do something about it."

"Why not leave it to the others for a while, then? Let them deal with the insanity. Take a break from this and be a normal person for a change!"

"Maybe I would rather hang around with them," he says angrily. "At least they understand what it's like to be different, to be hated even when you're trying to help people."

"And I don't? Because I'm just 'normal'? Do you want a super-woman or something?" She begins to sob, and tears rim her eyes. "I'm sorry for not having been hit by that meteor too. Maybe then I'd be someone you could care about!" she yells.

Chris throws up his hands and stomps out of the kitchen. "Have whatever you want for supper," he calls over his shoulder. "I'm not hungry anyway."

"Fine. Have a nice flight, Comet."

The only answer is the sound of the front door being slammed.

The Comet flew over the city, trying to keep his mind on where he was going. He regretted the words even as he had said them, but he was too angry to say so to Stephanie. He would have to apologize to her, he knew it right away. But he had an appointment. This was important, too. Wasn't it?

He pushed the thought out of his mind. He'd make it up to Steph. This wouldn't take long.

He followed Maple Street until it reached Booth. When he saw the orphanage, he was shocked; how could a building be in such disrepair and still be used by the public? And to house children?

The sun was low over the ocean as he flew down to the building. I'd better not land on the roof; it might not hold me up, he thought, only half-joking.

The front was gated off from the street, but he landed inside the gate by the front step, his cape settling comfortably behind him. It had taken a few days to get the hang of landing without the cape going over his head; it was pretty embarrassing, and Stephanie had giggled for hours the first few times he had tried it. *Practice makes perfect,* he thought as he climbed the steps to the front door.

His knock was answered by a short, darkly-tanned Latin woman with black hair pulled sharply into a bun. She opened the door with the chain hooked on, and looked at the front step.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

"Good evening, ma'am. I'm the Comet," he introduced himself. "Are you ms. Samovar? I believe we spoke on the phone earlier."

She goggled at him. "You mean that was for real?"

He nodded, and pulled the letter from Tommy from his belt. "You've heard of Cassandra Salvatore, the superhero known as Odyssey?" She nodded, and he explained the postal deluge they had been working on. "Tommy took the time to write us, and the others asked me to make arrangements to help you out."

"Help us out?" she repeated, looking over Tommy's letter.

 "Yes. The building needs repair, maybe some painting and a bit of interior decorating. We'd like to help."

 She looks at him with a slight frown, then closes the door. Comet hears the chain being released, and she opens the door for him. "Come in, then. The children are just finishing supper. Have you eaten?"

 "I'm fine, thanks." Comet quickly changes the subject. "If you're agreeable to the idea, we'd like to come by Saturday afternoon to do this. We'll bring materials and whatever else is needed. The kids can help, if they like."

 "Saturday? That would be fine." She looks at him curiously. "You don't know, do you?"

 "Know what?"

 "The social services board has been talking about shutting this place down because of its condition. The first notices went out just last week."

 Comet frowns. They walk through the entrance hall, into Ms. Samovar's office. It is tastefully decorated, but the furnishings cannot hide the wear and tear on the walls. "Did the kids know about this?"

 "It's possible," she concedes. "Tommy, especially, is a very curious boy. He's always getting into things. He might have overheard me talking about it with the social worker."

"It seems likely, doesn't it?" She offers him a seat, and he takes it. "So you can expect us on Saturday, then?"

 She nods. "Can I ask you something?"

 "Of course."

 "Why are you doing this? Don't you have better things to do than worry about an old, rundown orphanage that no one else cares about?"

 He smiles slightly. "That's why we're doing it, Ms. Samovar. No one else cares enough."

After a brief discussion on what needs to be done, Ms. Samovar offers Comet a brief tour to meet the kids. Glancing at the clock, he says, "I can spare a few minutes, but I really can't stay long."

She takes him to the dining hall, where some of the kids are cleaning up. One of them, a sandy-haired boy of about eight years, drops a plate when he sees the Comet walk in with Ms. Samovar.

"Holy crap! It's the Comet!"

Taken aback, Comet looks at Ms. Samovar uncertainly. She shrugs. "That's Tommy Walker."

Tommy steps over the shattered remains of the plate and comes around to stare at the superhero. "You got my letter?" he asks eagerly.

"I did, Tommy," affirms the Comet, taking the boy's small hand in his own and shaking it. "That was a good thing you did. I just wanted to stop by and let you know that we'll be happy to help you fix this place up."

"Really? When?"

"Let's say Sunday," he answers. Ms. Samovar opens her mouth to speak, but Comet gives her a warning glance and she says nothing.

"Wow! Who else is coming?"

"Well, Odyssey and Dragon Fist will be here, and Starlight too. We'll have to try to get hold of Proteus, but I'm sure he'll be happy to help too. So the whole team is coming."

"Cool! Hey, do you want to see my room?" Tommy tugs at Comet's arm eagerly, pulling him toward the main staircase.

"Tommy, please! This man was nice enough to come by, but he's got other things to do. He can see your room when he comes with his friends."

"I'm afraid Ms. Samovar is at least partially right, Tommy. I have to go, but I'll make a special point of seeing your room on Sunday, okay?"

"Yeah, I guess." Tommy looks crestfallen, but perks up. "Can you take me flying sometime?"

Comet laughs. "We'll see, Tommy. If we get a chance on the weekend, we'll try. But don't forget the other kids will want to take a ride, too."

Shaking the boy's hand again, Comet follows Ms. Samovar back to her office. When they get there, she asks him about the change of days.

"Well, how long do you think before Tommy tells everyone we're coming over? I'd say that before long the entire San Francisco media will know about this, and come Sunday they'll be camped on your doorstep. This way we can avoid some of the hassle from the press."

"But I thought-" she stops, biting her lip.

"You though it was a publicity stunt," finishes the Comet. "They'll find out anyway," he points out. "But this way we get to get some actual work done before five hundred cameras get shoved in our faces. Sure, it's nice to have our pictures in the paper, but we get that all the time anyway."

"You're an unusual person, Mr. Comet."

"Just call me Comet," he says with a grin. "Well, I'd better get going. I have a very important meeting."

"Thank you for coming by," says Ms. Samovar, shaking his hand.

"My pleasure. We'll see you Saturday afternoon."

Stephanie sits at the table, her uneaten chicken growing cold on her plate. Tears stain her face, and she makes no effort to wipe them away. She stares sightlessly into space, her thoughts disjointed.

She only dimly hears the sound of the front door opening, and pays no attention to the rustling sounds coming from the front entrance. She is aware of someone moving in the living room, turning on the CD player.

The opening chords of *Almost Paradise* filter through her quiet sobs, and she feels him standing beside her. Blinking her tears away, she looks up to see Chris standing there in his favorite blue sweatshirt, holding a Blockbuster video in one hand and a dozen pink roses in the other.

"I'm sorry, Steph," he says quietly. "I didn't mean anything I said."

"Yes, you did."

He says nothing, just standing quietly. She can see a tear in his eye, but he, too, lets it fall unheeded.

She turns away from him. "Damn you," she whispers. "Why did this have to happen? Why couldn't we just live with this the way it was?"

Chris puts the roses on the table. "I picked up a video on the way home. I thought we'd have some popcorn and relax for the rest of the night."

She says nothing, and the song comes to an end. Chris waits patiently, then turns to the living room. He turns on the television and sits down on the couch.

"In local news, the police department released the latest crime figures today, with some shocking surprises. According to police records, violent crimes are up nearly 7% from last year's totals, while burglaries and other property crimes have seen a similar rise. Some public officials are blaming this rise in crime on the presence of vigilantes, such as the so-called Golden Gate Guardians. City Councilman Derek Fraizer said that their activities only encourage criminals to be more daring, and suggested that the city council look into putting limits on their activities."

Chris hears a footstep, and turns to see Stephanie standing next to him, watching the anchorman's report. She turns back to the dining room. "What movie did you get?"

"'It Happened One Night'. It's an old one; it won Best Picture in 1934."

 "Is it any good?"

 "That's what the girl at the video store said. It's a Capra movie."

There is no answer. Then, a few minutes later, he can hear the sound of popcorn popping in the kitchen.

The Comet lands outside the orphanage, the fight with Stephanie still rankling. He’d scanned the radio during the flight through the city, and the news he’d heard had chilled his blood even further. The FBI, PRIMUS and San Francisco Police had announced they’d discovered a link between missing persons cases across the country and a recent spate of bodies turning up in the Bay. The link, the radio announcer stated, was that all fifteen of the victims possessed low-level energy projecting abilities, and that all had died from what appeared to be a virus similar to Ebola. The CDC had been called in to investigate, but the announcer reassured his listeners that there was no evidence that the virus was air-borne, that the water supply had been polluted, or that it would affect non-energy projectors. Maria Chow had been contacted from the Avenger Games, taking place this weekend in Hudson City, he added, and she added her reassurances to his that PRIMUS would be working with the CDC and other agencies to get to the root of the problem.

Starlight lands at the same time as the Comet, and as soon as the two of them are spotted, children begin to pour from the door. "Dragon Fist radioed me a few minutes ago," she says to the Comet. "He isn’t going to be able to make it due to a family emergency."

"So that's two who can't come," sighs the Comet. "Well, we'll be able to handle it ourselves, I guess. What about--"

Just as the Comet is about to open his mouth to inquire about Odyssey, she blinks into his vision in a flash of golden light.

"Ah, there you are, Odyssey. Glad you could make it. Looks like it worked; not a reporter to be seen."

Odyssey laughs. "Give them time Comet. I've learned not to underestimate their ability to ferret out my whereabouts. I even had one of the follow me into the bathroom and it was a male reporter. But we'll at least have some time before they show up."

Cassie has shown up in Jeans and a t-shirt obviously eschewing her costume for comfortable work clothes.

The orphans – of all shapes, sizes, genders and races – demand the Guardians’ attention at this point, and conversation becomes impossible. Mrs. Samovar grins as she watches the scene.

Waving a greeting to Ms. Samovar, Comet shakes the hands of several of the children, smiling broadly at them. "Well, kids, why don't we fix this place up a bit? What should we do first?"

"No um, Sally is it? Sally my hair is real. It's not a wig," Cassie carefully pulls the long strand out of the girls hand. "I had to cut it because it was causing me to trip when I fought supervillains," she tells another girl. "No I don't think there's an Odyssey doll out yet."

 Glancing at Comet with a smile on her face, Cassie says, "I'd forgotten how inquisitive children can be. Well let's say we get started fixing this place up. Tony arranged to have some supplies he got the construction companies to donate - paint, a sprayer, scrap lumber, etc. - brought over. Mike, the foreman, should be here in a few minutes. Perhaps we should go in and the children can give us a tour. That way we can make a list of what needs to be done."

 The front area seems to have had the most work in terms of maintaining appearances. One can probably guess that over ninety percent of the visitors are limited to this area with good reason. Upon entering the non-public area, one can feel transported to an older, forgotten time. Oddly enough, the fact that there are no cobwebs seems out of place until one imagines the newer wiring that snakes across the walls as a web of sorts. The kids hurry the heroes up the stairs into the bedrooms. The banister looks like it could have been a museum piece of its own, having a rich history to share, before it was drown in white paint probably to prevent further rusting.

Upstairs, the vines of electricity seem to connect their rooms via the ceiling leaving one bulb per room. Starlight crings to see the multiple extension cords blossoming out of one bulb to light most of the upstairs. As the kids run across the room, the loud creaking sound of the floor almost sounds like it would give way, but lends its strength like a faithful friend. Comet turns on the lights and a soft glow fills the rooms pushing the shadows up the walls. One of the kids makes complicated shadow puppets, showing that he has practicing for a long time. The kids seem mindful of the beds and two never sit on one. Looking at the beds, this does not seem to be a kid's game, but the lesson learned from experience. Starlight is about to sit down on one of the beds and the kids prevent her, offering a chair instead. The layout of the room would remind people that the orphanage was probably a barracks beforehand. The four rooms seem to be divided into younger and older, male and female.

The tub in the bathroom, seems to be an old fashioned raised tub that has been patched a few times and the floor underneath it shows that they did repair that part of the floor with newer wood. The kids explain that the tub doesn't drain well and that's why they don't need a plug. Anyone using the bathroom notices the toilet doesn't flush well, instead making gurgling noises.

 Looking at the ceiling, the electric vines snake around certain places on the roof. Giving the observer a fairly good clue at possible roof leaks.

 "Well," Starlight says energetically, "Let’s get to work!"

A paint-spattered Odyssey looked around the corner of the upstairs hallway at the orphanage to spy on Comet who was busy putting a second coat of paint on the ceiling of one of the boy's dormitory rooms.

 "You missed a spot," Cassie pointed. Glancing around, Cassie makes sure there are no kids nearby. While originally obsessed with the superheroes, even children adhere to that most cherished of siren's calls - the ice cream truck music. When Cassie offered to pay, the children stampeded down the stairs and out to the truck to place their orders.

 "Is something wrong?" she asks Comet. "You seemed a little preoccupied this morning."

 "Well, there are a couple of things; some personal, some not." He rolls the ceiling paint to an even texture. "Did you hear about the people they found in the bay? It sounds like someone has come up with some sort of anti-super disease, like Ebola...or worse. I think we'd better hurry up with this and get over to PRIMUS as soon as we can. Much as I enjoy helping out the kids, I want to talk to Silver Avenger Chow about these dead people."

 He finishes the ceiling off, and checks around. They've accomplished quite a bit, and the team sent by Tony is doing most of the electrical work. Then, cocking his head, he hears the sound of screeching tires. Looking outside, he sees two news vans pulling up. The kids, clustered around the ice cream truck, now happily run to the news people. As the reporters begin to unload, he turns to Cassie.

 "Do you want to talk to the reporters, or shall we call it a day? If you want to get out of here, I'll explain to Ms. Samovar. I'll meet you at PRIMUS in about fifteen minutes."

 "Hmm, yes," Cassie says. "I saw that on CNN. You're talking about all those victims who have energy-projecting powers and were fished out of San Francisco Bay. Well I understand your concern. The only problem is Maria Chow is participating in the Avenger Games this week. We probably won't be able to get a hold of her."

 "Right now the info CNN had was pretty sketchy," Cassie continues. "Perhaps we'd do better to use this time for some research. I'm no biologist or geneticist, but I know where we can find some. There's a new department at SFU or UC Berkley, I can never remember which one. The department specializes in paranormal genetics and biology. Someone there might be able to help. I think Dr. Gardner works there, but I'm not sure."

PBEM Turns