Chapter Five

I moved around my new home, cleaning, tidying, whilst SAMI watched.

That isn't exactly true. What SAMI did was generate a couch for its' Avatar, which then proceeded to recline, and drink from a large container with a straw.

"Having fun, Jay?"

I glared up at the screen. "You know, this'd go a lot better if you weren't dead."

SAMI shrugged. "Don't blame me. I didn't get killed. I'm pre-death, remember?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever. Sammy was a lazy bastard, too."

"Hey! I resent that."

"Oh, bite me."

I sighed. This was going nowhere. I glanced up at the screen, where SAMI had finished his…I mean, its' drink, and was now playing with a yo-yo.

"Is that just a really complicated screen saver, or something?"

"Nope." SAMI grinned at me, before he 'walked the dog'. "I'm just bored."

"How can a computer program get bored?"

"How can a human being who's supposed to be dead criticise?"

"Uhh…shut up."

SAMI chuckled. "You know, if you put the table in the middle of the room, it'll combat the negative space you've created."

"What? Since when were you an interior designer?"

"Since I'm programmed with that sort of thing."

"What other useless things are programmed into you?"

"Your mum."

I sighed, and shook my head. Definitely Sammy, no matter how you tried to re-package it.

Something beeped on the monitor, and SAMI glanced off-screen for a second.

"What was that?"

"Hang on, mate." SAMI pulled out a little mobile phone, and flicked it open. "Go ahead."

I stared. SAMI…using a phone? I watched as SAMI spoke a few more words into the phone, then hung up.

"We've got a hit."

"A…hit?"

SAMI nodded. "Doctor Wilks pre-programmed me with some specific search algorithms, and any hits on those particular words were to be red flagged, your eyes only."

"And?"

"And since you don't technically have eyes anymore…"

"Sam…"

He…I mean it, grinned. "Sorry. There's someone asking questions about one of the Underground. Might be worth a look."

"The what?"

"It's called the Secret National Anti-Foundation Underground. Dedicated to stopping the 'evils' of The Tucker Foundation."

I blinked, trying to sound out the acronym in my head. "The…SNAFU?"

"Hey, don't blame me. I just work here."

"Anyway, how is the Foundation evil?"

Sam shrugged. "I'll feed everything to your optic implants on your way to rendezvous."

"You can do that?"

"Sure. It's my job."

"Okay, where'm I going?"

Sam clicked his virtual fingers, and a map appeared, super-imposed, on my regular vision.

"The Pocket D club."

--

I've been out before, since my 'death', and not as John Fernandez. Time to time, I've snuck around various places in Paragon where I've needed back-up. Since I don't have any team-mates who can join me out in the field, I've had to rely on my Fire Sword, my assault rifle, and my costume's forcefield. Which means, unfortunately for my plan of anonymity, that I've had to become The Fire Guardian again.

Not like last time, though. Last time, I had two 'official' outings as the Guardian, and it got my heart broken. Not to mention my right arm, as well as a serious lack of blood from having my girlfriend beat me to a pulp; and that was after she nearly killed me by taking both my legs off with an automatic weapon of her own.

This time was different. This time, I was alone. Solo. A 'Lone Wolf'. Not that I went on any missions, per se. I entered no abandoned warehouses, or tried to stop the Clockwork from assembling their Macguffin of the week. No, I did what felt right.

I hunted.

From what SAMI had reported about me going out in the past couple of weeks, rumours were spreading. Although my identity had never been mentioned, there were a few urban legends sprouting up, which, I have to confess, were pretty cool.

This time was definitely different than my hunting sessions, although no less cool. From the maps that Sam had projected onto my vision, I found a quick and easy way to get into Pocket D. As 'John Fernandez', people ignored me, probably believing me to be just another drunken former Archetype, drowning his sorrows. I quickly scanned through the data that had been compiled on SNAFU (what a name) and the newly 'revitalised' Foundation, and what I read made me turn cold.

"There." I heard a voice whisper in my ear. I spun around, and saw…nobody.

"Stop dicking around." The voice said again.

"Who's there?" I whispered back.

"Dude, if you don't stop messing around, I'm not going to be in the right frame of mind for when I visit your mother later."

"SAMI?" I whispered. "How did you…"

"No time. Actually….stand there."

"What? Why?"

A blonde flurry collided with me, nearly knocking me down. As it was, she spun me around.

"Yeah, big bad Superhero nearly gets knocked off his feet by a woman weighing, what? 90 pounds?"

I tried to ignore Sam, as I felt the woman's hand on my shoulder.

"You okay there, old timer?"

Who the hell is she calling…

"Old timer?" I paused, remembering who I was supposed to be. "Oh, right." The woman looked familiar. Blonde…nice legs…business type…oh!

"I know you!"

"You do, huh?" She seemed…saddened by that, somehow. Women. All of them are insane, even if they don't try to kill you. Twice.

I nodded. "You were at the funeral for that Hero last month. The Fire Guardian, right?"

"I….yes." She seemed stunned, but I wanted to press on. From what I had read, if Anson had discovered a way to shut down this Underground, or had even learned it might be a threat, he'd send someone to look into it.

"The Mayor's friend."

She scowled at me. . "Now, why does everyone in this place think of me as just a friend to the Mayor? I have a job. I have a life."

Okay, so maybe she wasn't a spy for Mike. At least, not a willing one. I held up my hands in surrender. "Okay, okay."

We chit chatted for a moment, before I tried to make myself scarce. I had nearly told her who I was, and that wouldn't be good. Either she'd believe me, and tell Anson that 'his close friend' was alive, and well, and spotted in Pocket D looking like an old man, or she'd think I was crazy, try to get me committed, and then tell Anson that some old guy said he was me. Although I'm the old guy, so I would be me…

All this work with disguises and pretence made my head hurt. I slipped away as quickly as I could, and made it to a back alley, where I took a breather. I saw some movement up ahead, and turned my eyesight to night-vision, where I watched a drunken Hellion stumble about, before approaching a blonde haired…

Oh, no.

The next day, for Susan, was a blur. She filed a police report, and was unsure on whether or not to mention the help from the 'mysterious' Hero. The police would get a report to all Heroes registered in Paragon, and when it turned out that none of them were the helper, things could get ugly. If it –had- been Tucker who saved her, she might end up setting the police of Paragon after him accidentally, as they might mistake him as a vigilante. It'd be poor form to send a man who had spent millions of his own money to help others, as well as rescue Susan herself, twice over, to the Zig. Of course, it might not come to that. From what Susan had heard, a lot of newer Heroes, as well as more unsuccessful ones, 'claimed' to help out more people than they did, in order to boost their own prestige, or even jumped in at the last minute to finish off an opponent. 'Kill-Stealing', some of them called it, even if they never actually killed anyone. Surely one of these people would take credit, whether it was them or not.

The real dilemma, as far as she could tell, was whether or not to tell the Mayor. At her first interview, if she had mentioned that Jason might be alive, and offered the 'proof', as circumstantial as it may have been, he may have been overjoyed. After all she had read whilst doing her research, however…

Foundation Allies With Crey!

Tucker Foundation to assist Terra Volta!

Foundation sets up buildings over Paragon!

All in all, headlines which by themselves, meant nothing. However, when compared with other stories…crime rising in areas where the Foundation had put up their flag, Terra Volta having constant problems, as well as long-held suspicions with Crey, it seemed odd. The worst part, for Susan herself, was that she had written the original stories. All those 'exclusives', putting a good face on whatever Anson may be really up to.

'It's time' , she mused to herself, chewing on a pencil, 'To go speak with Mayor Anson' .

"Susan!" Anson's voice boomed, making me cringe internally. "To what do I owe this honour?"

"Well, Mayor…"

"Michael, please."

I nodded. "Michael. I was wondering…"

"You know," he cut me off. "I just heard about last night, with that mugger. Terrible experience for you."

"Thank you, sir. But I'm not here about that."

"Oh?"

"It's just…there have been accusations levelled at the Tucker Foundation, as well as yourself in particular, and I was wondering if you had any comments."

His brow furrowed. "I wasn't aware that anyone had any complaints about me. As Mayor?"

"Oh, no, sir, nothing like that. But people are wondering about your relationship with Madame Crey, as well as a few other things."

He laughed. "I'm sure that people will gossip. Public figures tend to take a beating, no matter what they do."

I nodded. This was certainly true enough.

"Pay it no mind, Mayor. I was merely curious." I turned to leave, but couldn't resist one final comment. "Oh, last night…I may have run into a friend of yours."

The Mayor's usually jovial face tightened somewhat, and I thought I saw a glimmer of something…dangerous in his eyes.

"Oh? And who might that be?"

"Well," I took a breath to steady myself. "The unknown Hero who helped me. He was dressed like…well…The Fire Guardian."

The mayor's face went from being tanned and ruddy to pale, almost as quickly as he had won the election. "Susan…Jason Tucker is dead. I buried him myself." He sighed, and shook his head. "This is just some copycat wanting to pretend to be something he isn't, and will never be."

"Okay." I nodded.

"However…if he should contact you, or you should see him in any way…" He reached into his desk, and pulled out what looked like a pager, which he tossed to me. "Just press the button on that, and my private security detail will home in on that signal and…detain him. For questioning."

I nodded again, thanked the Mayor, and left his office quickly.

As I shut the door, I couldn't help but wonder…if it was just some copycat, why did the Mayor look so scared? What did he have to hide? And what, if anything, did this stranger know about him?

As soon as Susan left the office, Anson picked up a phone, and punched in a number.

"Yes?" The gruff voice barked down the line.

"It's me."

"Well, Mr Mayor. I haven't heard from you in a while. What's up?"

"It's Tucker."

There was a moments pause at the other end of the line.

"I thought you killed him."

"So did I." The Mayor snarled.

"So, what, you want the usual done?"

"What do you think , you imbecile?" Anson snapped.

"If he's alive, he'll be taken care of."

"Good." Mike paused. "There's one way we can be sure it's him. There's a journalist who's been doing reports on me. I want her followed."

Although Anson couldn't see the individual he was speaking to, he could practically hear the smile. "And if she leads us to Tucker?"

"Kill them both."

"And if not?"

Mike chuckled. "Tucker's always thought of himself as someone who'll right wrongs. Put her in danger. The Fire Guardian will follow."

"And if he doesn't show up?"

"Kill her anyway, Regetti. She's getting too close for comfort."

Anson put the phone down, and smiled.

Miles away, and belowground, SAMI replayed the entire message for me, which he had recorded by hacking into the phone lines.

"And if he doesn't show up?"

"Kill her anyway, Regetti. She's getting too close for comfort."

I scowled as SAMI re-appeared on the main monitor.

"So, Chief, what do we do now?"

I shrugged. "Mike wants The Fire Guardian to save this girl? Then I will."

"It'll be a trap. You just heard it for yourself."

"I'm not afraid of Mike, or this 'Regetti' guy." I grabbed my belt, and clipped it on.

"The Fire Guardian's going to come out of retirement."