Rated: M (strong language and adult situations)

Summary: In a world of Heroes, only a Guardian can stand up for the weak. But what of himself?

Foreword: People in real life swear. Therefore, so do my characters. Other than that, though, this is a work of fiction. That means I made it up. However, I would like to thank NC Soft and Cryptic Studios for giving me the playground of City Of Heroes to mess around in. Without them, I would have never have written this piece of work.

The town of Hitchin is real. The city of Paragon is not. The amazingly foul mouthed Sammy Edwards, Jason Tucker, Emily Campbell, and The Fire Guardian are all owned by me. Failure to recognise this right will result in various bad things. Don't blame me for being tame, I'm British.

Enjoy the story. The best is yet to come.

- BK Flasherman, 2006.

Prologue

The only person who was surprised when I won the lottery…was me.

No, that's a terrible way to start. Let me try again. In the days, weeks, months, and eventually years since the Rikti threat had vanished, people had to hold on to hope. As we struggled to rebuild our lives, as well as our homes, jobs, and various other aspects of ourselves, the world, as a whole, came to an understanding. It was decreed that, yes, we had gone through some bad patches. (Personally, I always loved that particular US President's penchant for understating the obvious. World War 2 was 'a bad patch'? The thousands upon thousands of people who died when the skies opened up and the Rikti poured out was simply 'an unfortunate incident'? Please.) However, the time was ripe for a new world, a new way of life, ad nauseum, ad nauseum.

The town I lived in, Hitchin, wasn't nearly as badly hit as metropolitan areas. Sure, we had the odd assault team led through, as the people hid in quickly and shoddily built underground bunkers, but apart from that, life was, more or less, normal. Certain aspects of our lives were no longer available to us, though. The National Lottery, or Lotto as it had been called as of late, had transformed itself into a War Assistance effort. We paid our money, and the government co-opted it into more tanks, planes, weapons, etc. None of us minded, either. It was a chance for us 'little people' to do our part for the fighting boys. However, with the war over, and our money being put to use re-building, there was a new hope on the horizon. One of peace. Eventually, of course, the Lottery returned, and with it, we all saw a new hope that life, on the whole, was finally returning to normal.

Everybody played. And I mean absolutely everybody. Not just people in England, but all over, from America to Zimbabwe. Every single person who could, put in a pound, a dollar, a Euro, a Yen, nobody caring about the exchange rates. There was even talk about a unified worldwide currency being decided upon, to further show our united front. The total sum of the Lottery win was, in Pound Sterling, just about sixty billion. 12 numbers were played, instead of the UK's usual six, to further increase the odds. As it turns out, the increased odds, meant to spread the wealth around more, meant there was only one winner.

The only person who was surprised when I won the lottery…was me.

Chapter One

"Son of a bitch!" Sammy yelled in my ear the day after I won. Outside of my immediate family, he was the only person I had told about winning. "I mean…you bastard! Christ, Jay. Sixty billion pounds. What're we going to do with all that cash?"
I shook my head at Sammy's exuberance. "Firstly, we're going to do nothing with it. I won the jackpot, so I decide what gets done with it."
"Fine. At least…buy me a harem?" Sammy's eyes shone with excitement.

My plans for the money itself were relatively simple, although Sammy thought I was being an idiot. Firstly, I was donating millions of pounds back into charities, especially the ones that had set themselves up to help war orphans. They took my money anonymously, but extremely gratefully. I had even contacted a lawyer (why were none of those vile creatures wiped out by the Rikti, I mused after one meeting) to get them all banded under one name. The lawyer, some landshark called Mike Anson, had jumped at the chance, and named it 'The Tucker Foundation'. That's after me, by the way, boys and girls. Jason Tucker. The aforementioned Jay.

With The Tucker Foundation slowly but surely underway, and the children, widows, and widowers being taken care of, I wanted to just sit in the shadows, as it were, and enjoy the humanitarian effort, without the irritability of my face being shown on TV and newspapers, as "That Multi-Billionaire". At least I was putting my money to good use. Nobody could ever accuse me of being a skinflint.

"You fuckin' Skinflint." Sammy growled. It had been three months since I had won. "Give me my Harem!"
"Sammy…" I started. "You're not getting a Harem."
"Please? I've always wanted a harem of Blonde Swedish Supermodel Superheroes."
Superheroes were a big thing for Sammy. We'd grown up in a world of Statesman, Hero One, and The Liberty girls, and to us, they were the superstars of the world. Who wanted to watch a movie about a man in red and blue spandex kissing redheads, when there were real heroes out there? Sammy had, for a few years, kept a life-sized poster of War Witch on his bedroom door.
As for me, I was beginning to understand why so many of them wanted to hide in obscurity. Day after day, I received letters begging for help. Eventually, I had them all re-directed to The Tucker Foundation, and whilst the majority of the people were refused (one letter that stuck in my mind was a man who simply couldn't go on without a new Ferrari) one or two were helped out as best we could do.

I mentally ticked off what I had done with the money against a checklist I had formulated.

Help those less fortunate? Check.
Set up a trust fund for my best friend's son? Check.
Buy my relatives new homes? Check.
Win back Emily?

Well, okay, I wasn't 100 complete on that checklist. I couldn't help myself. I sighed softly. Sammy glanced over at my direction, still in mid-rant about Superheroines, and their 'enhanced stamina', and stopped.
"Get over her."
"What?" I feigned ignorance. Not that it ever worked with Samuel Edwards, one of my closest, if most irritating, friends.
"Emily. She's gone. She dumped your ass. Hell, when she found out that you won the lottery, did she come crawling back?"
"Well…she doesn't know."
"What?" Sammy was flabbergasted. I mean that seriously, too. His Flabber was well and truly Gasted. "How does she not know?"
I shook my head. "You're the least observant person in the world, aren't you? Do you realise that my name has never been used as 'the lottery winner'? I kept out of the press."
"But.." Sammy tried to reason. "Those letters. What about The Tucker Foundation?"
"The letters get delivered to The Tucker Foundation, and they get to me that way. As for the name…how many people in the world do you think are called Tucker?"
"Good point. But, still…if you told her you were the winner, she'd come back."
"I don't want her that way. I don't buy affection."
"Still…it works."
I reeled around and glared at Sammy. "Are you calling my Emmy a whore?"
Sammy stared at me for a few seconds.

"Jay, mate. She isn't yours anymore."

There was a harsh truth in his words. A few weeks into the war, Emily had met a soldier, part of one of the assault team that had passed through town, called Pete. She dumped me unceremoniously the next day, declaring I wasn't doing my bit. She signed up to fight alongside him, and I never heard from her again.
I shook my head, clearing myself from the funk that threatened to overwhelm me.

"I need a holiday."
"Cool. Where're we going?"

Good question. The whole world was open to me…us, I supposed. Sammy had as much right to be by my side as anyone else. There was, it turns out, only one place I wanted to go, and Sammy, to no surprise, wanted to go as much as me, if not more.

The next day, I booked two first class tickets to Paragon City.