I so want to make a Negative Man for this :O
Allegiance's forum posts
A long time ago, a boy died for something he believed in.
He wanted to see peace in his hometown. He wanted to see mothers and fathers crowd around their children, crying tears of joy instead of grief. He wanted them to go to sleep peacefully at night instead of them staying up worried about the future.
That boy was named Jeffrey Glenn Miller. He died during the Kent State shootings, which started out as a protest against the United States government moving their war efforts into Cambodia. It eventually turned into a protest against the Ohio National Guard's presence on the campus. That's when Jeffrey was shot.
That's when we all understood something.
It wasn't going to stop.
A whisper in the wind. Meaningless, and it's gone. Simultaneously, a hello and a goodbye. Something he gave to a select few people, a family he now counted a former Victory amongst. Ever since the glory days of the hero team, it all seemed to go downhill. Spikes in life. Mountains that could just as easily turn into valleys. Pits. Chasms. Only now and again would the heart come back from those moments, and see the light once more. Those became rare nowadays. More special, but less endearing. Like coming up for air at increasing depths.
It was only a matter of time before his fingertips wouldn't even breach the surface again.
Fighting against Doom's armada. Going to Turkey in a race for a cosmically-empowered infant. Then things started to change. Malcolm walled himself inside of his own city, became stir-crazy, and hunted down criminals, shooting them like fish in a barrel. Turning human beings into sport. But he had his reasons. We all did. I couldn't get close to him again. Did I really want to? I wanted to try and bring him back to form. I could have gone to him. I think he trusted me enough not to beat him in a fight. I think I could have slapped him once or twice to get him to listen.
...But it doesn't matter now.
Every mistake leading up to this was on my shoulders. To have that man reduced to a name on a wall. A body in the ground. A whimper...
Just keep picking yourself up, eh? No matter how many times it hurts. How many times you're thrown off the cliff. One step at a time. You can do it.
And just like that, James pulled his jacket closer to his broad shoulders. The city synonymous with Dark Vengeance loomed over him.
Just like old times.