HOME | DD

Description
PARAGON CITY: 2004

"Follow your heart, Jamie. No matter what happens it will never lead you astray. I love you."

The words from so long ago echoed down through the memory of James Rockwell as he stood in the parlour of the family mansion and looked up at the portrait of his mother, Valerie, that hung above the fireplace.

"I love you too, Mom" whispered James as tears stung his eyes. "And I miss you so much. I wish you were here right now. I just don't know what to do."

In the fading light from the parlour windows James once again looked down at the letter that he was holding in his hand. The letter that bore the seal of the US Marine Corps Officer Selection Office. The letter that had crushed his dreams for the future with its opening words...

"We regret to advise..."

He squeezed his eyes shut. James had spent most of his twenty-one years training both his body and mind in preparation for the day that he would serve his country as Grandpa Tom had done on the battlefields of Europe so long ago. He knew that his application to the Corps had been perfect. When he received the rejection letter he was dumbfounded. It did not make sense. His first thought had been of his father. As a US senator and prominent industrialist, Cyrus Rockwell wielded a frightening amount of influence in all circles. And his father had vehemently opposed his intention to join the military from the beginning. James recalled the confrontation with his father earlier that day when he had accused him of using his influence to have his application rejected. To his surprise, his father had not even attempted to deny the allegation.

"No son of mine is going to die on some god-forsaken patch of foreign soil!", he had thundered.

"Dad how could you do this to m......"

"You're a ROCKWELL, boy!", said his father, slamming his fist down on the antique mahogany desk behind which he sat. "This family has been in politics since that upstart Lincoln was in office. We have been shaping the future of this nation for generations. And as my only son you WILL be following me to Washington when I say that you are ready."

"But...

"This conversation is OVER, James!", said his father as he rose to his feet. He was a large, imposing figure in an immaculately cut dark-blue suit. His black hair was shot through with traces of gray and his bushy moustache now bristled with anger. "Do not defy me again. You simply cannot win."

James opened his eyes and let the letter fall from his fingers. His father was right. How could he win? How could he win against someone who was less a human than a force of nature? His father would get what he wanted. He always did. James turned and walked out of the parlour that had been his mother's sanctuary.

He walked aimlessly through the silent halls and rooms of the mansion. He had given the staff the weekend off. He couldn't bear any other human contact right now. He simply wanted to be alone with his dashed hopes and bitter disappointment.

Wandering into the games room, he passed the antique billiards table, and dropped himself listlessly onto one of the leather couches. He knew that there was no point applying again. For any branch of the service. His father had too much money and too much power at his disposal. He would block his aspirations at every turn.

Longing for any kind of distraction, James picked up the remote-control from a small
end table and turned on the large flat-screen television.

Liquid crystal images flickered before his eyes and he caught snatches of the reports that went along with them as he began to cycle through the news and current affairs channels. James frowned as he was confronted with a succession of grim faces reciting grim reports

*click*

". . .pleaded for help from anyone who may have witnessed the abduction of her son by the sinister cult known as the Circle of Thorns. . ."

*click*

". . . Gang violence reached an all-time high in Kings Row this month with the number of assaults and muggings up on last . . ."

*click*

" . . .officers in a critical condition after the frenzied Troll assault. . ."

*click*

". . .found with all his major organs removed. The Vahzilok are suspected. . ."

James stabbed the 'Off' button on the remote and threw the device across the room in disgust. He sat on the edge of the sofa with his head in his hands. Bad news. It always seemed to be bad news these days. There was no denying that Paragon City contained sinister dangers underneath its shining glass and steel exterior. Dangers that seemed to be winning the battle for the city's soul despite the best efforts of the heroes that called it home.

He was suddenly stung by a feeling of shame. To him, a rich man's son, Paragon City had always been a glittering playground. He had certainly taken the lessons of his mother and grandparents to heart. He tried always to maintain a simple decency and avoided the excesses of other rich young men. But somewhere along the line, his single-minded determination to serve his country in the military had become an obsession that had blinded him to everything else. Now he was reminded that out there behind the city's colourful façade, human predators were stalking the weak and too many decent people were living in the icy grip of fear.

So many people. So many people in need of help. And that was all his aspirations had boiled down to. He wanted to help. To make a difference in the world. Just like Grandpa Tom had done as a G.I sixty years ago. And his father…his own father…had deliberately robbed James of that opportunity.

Or had he?

"There must be a way", he thought as he slammed his fist into his palm. "Some way I can make a difference. A way that Dad would never know about."

James shook his head, then got up and headed toward the door. Right now he was a raging storm of raw emotion. He needed to calm down and he needed to think. And there was only one place he could go that never failed to help him do both.

Description
PARAGON CITY: 2004

"Follow your heart, Jamie. No matter what happens it will never lead you astray. I love you."

The words from so long ago echoed down through the memory of James Rockwell as he stood in the parlour of the family mansion and looked up at the portrait of his mother, Valerie, that hung above the fireplace.

"I love you too, Mom" whispered James as tears stung his eyes. "And I miss you so much. I wish you were here right now. I just don't know what to do."

In the fading light from the parlour windows James once again looked down at the letter that he was holding in his hand. The letter that bore the seal of the US Marine Corps Officer Selection Office. The letter that had crushed his dreams for the future with its opening words...

"We regret to advise..."

He squeezed his eyes shut. James had spent most of his twenty-one years training both his body and mind in preparation for the day that he would serve his country as Grandpa Tom had done on the battlefields of Europe so long ago. He knew that his application to the Corps had been perfect. When he received the rejection letter he was dumbfounded. It did not make sense. His first thought had been of his father. As a US senator and prominent industrialist, Cyrus Rockwell wielded a frightening amount of influence in all circles. And his father had vehemently opposed his intention to join the military from the beginning. James recalled the confrontation with his father earlier that day when he had accused him of using his influence to have his application rejected. To his surprise, his father had not even attempted to deny the allegation.

"No son of mine is going to die on some god-forsaken patch of foreign soil!", he had thundered.

"Dad how could you do this to m......"

"You're a ROCKWELL, boy!", said his father, slamming his fist down on the antique mahogany desk behind which he sat. "This family has been in politics since that upstart Lincoln was in office. We have been shaping the future of this nation for generations. And as my only son you WILL be following me to Washington when I say that you are ready."

"But...

"This conversation is OVER, James!", said his father as he rose to his feet. He was a large, imposing figure in an immaculately cut dark-blue suit. His black hair was shot through with traces of gray and his bushy moustache now bristled with anger. "Do not defy me again. You simply cannot win."

James opened his eyes and let the letter fall from his fingers. His father was right. How could he win? How could he win against someone who was less a human than a force of nature? His father would get what he wanted. He always did. James turned and walked out of the parlour that had been his mother's sanctuary.

He walked aimlessly through the silent halls and rooms of the mansion. He had given the staff the weekend off. He couldn't bear any other human contact right now. He simply wanted to be alone with his dashed hopes and bitter disappointment.

Wandering into the games room, he passed the antique billiards table, and dropped himself listlessly onto one of the leather couches. He knew that there was no point applying again. For any branch of the service. His father had too much money and too much power at his disposal. He would block his aspirations at every turn.

Longing for any kind of distraction, James picked up the remote-control from a small
end table and turned on the large flat-screen television.

Liquid crystal images flickered before his eyes and he caught snatches of the reports that went along with them as he began to cycle through the news and current affairs channels. James frowned as he was confronted with a succession of grim faces reciting grim reports

*click*

". . .pleaded for help from anyone who may have witnessed the abduction of her son by the sinister cult known as the Circle of Thorns. . ."

*click*

". . . Gang violence reached an all-time high in Kings Row this month with the number of assaults and muggings up on last . . ."

*click*

" . . .officers in a critical condition after the frenzied Troll assault. . ."

*click*

". . .found with all his major organs removed. The Vahzilok are suspected. . ."

James stabbed the 'Off' button on the remote and threw the device across the room in disgust. He sat on the edge of the sofa with his head in his hands. Bad news. It always seemed to be bad news these days. There was no denying that Paragon City contained sinister dangers underneath its shining glass and steel exterior. Dangers that seemed to be winning the battle for the city's soul despite the best efforts of the heroes that called it home.

He was suddenly stung by a feeling of shame. To him, a rich man's son, Paragon City had always been a glittering playground. He had certainly taken the lessons of his mother and grandparents to heart. He tried always to maintain a simple decency and avoided the excesses of other rich young men. But somewhere along the line, his single-minded determination to serve his country in the military had become an obsession that had blinded him to everything else. Now he was reminded that out there behind the city's colourful façade, human predators were stalking the weak and too many decent people were living in the icy grip of fear.

So many people. So many people in need of help. And that was all his aspirations had boiled down to. He wanted to help. To make a difference in the world. Just like Grandpa Tom had done as a G.I sixty years ago. And his father…his own father…had deliberately robbed James of that opportunity.

Or had he?

"There must be a way", he thought as he slammed his fist into his palm. "Some way I can make a difference. A way that Dad would never know about."

James shook his head, then got up and headed toward the door. Right now he was a raging storm of raw emotion. He needed to calm down and he needed to think. And there was only one place he could go that never failed to help him do both.