Some Sorta Fairytale (Telemetry of a Fallen Angel IX)
Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2008 2:47 am
Some Sorta Fairy Tale.
((this is grossly wonkytime, set about a year in the future, but I thought it served to explain things best. It’s also not set in Paragon, or indeed on Earth at all. Kalie's homeworld passes time FAR faster than earth-prime, so in this timeline, including wonkytime, Gabe is quite a bit older. Screwy? sure, but I felt it best explains a fitting end to a character I love dearly.
So, without further ado: The conclusion of Telemetry of a Fallen Angel))
2200 hours. The Royal Apartments, capitol city of Antian, Antias, Dimension X-44-270.
Gabe stood on the balcony, overlooking the city. It glimmered like a circuit board, streetlamps making vast grids of electric orange, high-rises glittering like components stuck to the PCB, vast boxes and cylinders of chrome and steel.
His city.
No, his adoptive city.
The night was warm, humid, the kind of night that makes the dark seem so small, but not in a claustrophobic way, but in the way that a nice cozy room might. He was high enough off the city’s floor that a light breeze was blowing. It felt absolutely gorgeous, the light wind fluttering his wings, yes, he had his wings out.
He’d hidden them, simply to fit in here, on a planet of cats nice little chickenwings made you all the wrong kinds of popular.
It had been too long since he’d put it on, the combat blues, kevlar banding over his chest. Inside Kalie was squeezing herself into her jumpsuit, green leather. Two children and ten years and it still fit her like a glove.
Gabe was a lucky man.
Ten years, ten years. Ten years of trying to be a responsible man. Ten years of trying to forget he was ever a cop or a soldier. Ten years of med school and college and starting his residency. Ten years of being a stranger in a strange land. Ten years of building a family.
Paragon seemed like a billion miles away, the Gabe that flew through city streets surfing a voltaic wave, defending the people, busting crooks and busting heads, seemed like a billion years away.
Kalie came out onto the balcony, looking as radiant as she ever did.
“You look good” she said, jumping to the balcony and perching there, “the kids are at Aisha’s”
Ah, the twins, Gabe’s endless source of joy, pride and consternation.
They made it all worth it: you couldn’t raise a family in Paragon, he wouldn’t, he’d refused. He wouldn’t arm his little girls for school, worry about Hellions and Skullz and Outcasts by the busstop, worry about drug pushers, about alien warships and plasma fire burning city blocks.
He’d shielded his girls from Paragon, because he himself was trying to forget. But a kind of idealized version of the City of Heroes lived on in his bedtime stories.
Fictionalized accounts of his time pounding pavement served as moral instruction: The story of the nefarious Dr. V explained just why you never went home with a stranger; Peer pressure was explored by the epic saga of the tank-men and their strange impulse to replace flesh with chrome; When it came time for them to start dating they’d learn about Vanessa DeVore and what happens when you act on pleasure alone. Yes, he’d reduced himself to four-color-comic morality nightly in the entrancing tales of the Angel and the Cat.
“it’s been too long” Gabe said, looking out over the city.
“You said you’d never do it again,” Kalie said with a bit of a reproachful smile.
“Sic Semper Maelfactor, my love, there will always be villains”
“Yeah, I know.”
“These people need a hero,” Gabe said, and picked himself up into the air on an electromagnetic pulse with a sound like a camera flash charging.
“Thought you said you were retired.”
“So could you sit inside while they rob another bank? Murder a few more hostages?”
Kalie smiled thinly, “I called Aisha during my lunch, arranged for a babysitter, dear.”
Gabe spun to face her slowly in midair, “I thought you would.”
Gabe finished suiting up, snugging his earpiece in and turning on his radio, “Templar here” he said, keying the mic, “talk to me”
A young cop, probably a rookie, came in over the sound of an engine’s insane scream, “this is air pursuit 4, they’re on 17th, two hostages and the contents of the vault in a van, armed and armored, sir.”
As soon as they gave the location Kalie leapt, with a single impulse kick she was sailing across the bright, wide moon.
Gabe pressed the button again, “Give us 10 minutes”
“Traffic is solid on the bridge, you’ll never make it sir,”
Gabe grinned even wider as he pushed over the edge of the balcony and down, freefalling to build up speed before he pulled out in a graceful arc just over the blacktop, weaving among the nighttime south-end traffic.
He felt alive again, and though he was focused on his martial task, he was giggling, erupting to a full laugh. Yes he was alive again, in the public service sailing through the night borne on electricity, tacking against the magnetic fields. Yes, he came alive once more.
“I don’t think traffic will be a problem,” he said, as he took the corner in an inertial drift-side, letting the field of a power cable bend his trajectory to an intercept course.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
“Come on Maddy, be a good girl and brush your teeth,” Aisha chided, trying to corral the girls into the bathroom.
She was a sweet girl, Maddy, though a little more rebellious than her sister, Morgan.
“Tell us a bedtime story?” Morgan asked.
“Yes, of course, what would you like to hear?”
“Tell us about the clock army!” she said, bouncing towards the bed.
“I don’t *know* about any clock army dear, and you still need to brush your teeth.”
Morgan pouted dejectedly, “Cinderella then?”
“Cinderella works”
“Daddy would tell us about the Clocks,” she said, disheartened, “or about the shadow aliens, or…”
Aisha tuned her out as she stopped in front of the bay window, knowing there was only one reason to be asked to babysit at this time and on such short notice. The TV had said there had been another robbery. Aisha thought she saw a shadow against the thin clouds, glinting moonlight.
((this is grossly wonkytime, set about a year in the future, but I thought it served to explain things best. It’s also not set in Paragon, or indeed on Earth at all. Kalie's homeworld passes time FAR faster than earth-prime, so in this timeline, including wonkytime, Gabe is quite a bit older. Screwy? sure, but I felt it best explains a fitting end to a character I love dearly.
So, without further ado: The conclusion of Telemetry of a Fallen Angel))
2200 hours. The Royal Apartments, capitol city of Antian, Antias, Dimension X-44-270.
Gabe stood on the balcony, overlooking the city. It glimmered like a circuit board, streetlamps making vast grids of electric orange, high-rises glittering like components stuck to the PCB, vast boxes and cylinders of chrome and steel.
His city.
No, his adoptive city.
The night was warm, humid, the kind of night that makes the dark seem so small, but not in a claustrophobic way, but in the way that a nice cozy room might. He was high enough off the city’s floor that a light breeze was blowing. It felt absolutely gorgeous, the light wind fluttering his wings, yes, he had his wings out.
He’d hidden them, simply to fit in here, on a planet of cats nice little chickenwings made you all the wrong kinds of popular.
It had been too long since he’d put it on, the combat blues, kevlar banding over his chest. Inside Kalie was squeezing herself into her jumpsuit, green leather. Two children and ten years and it still fit her like a glove.
Gabe was a lucky man.
Ten years, ten years. Ten years of trying to be a responsible man. Ten years of trying to forget he was ever a cop or a soldier. Ten years of med school and college and starting his residency. Ten years of being a stranger in a strange land. Ten years of building a family.
Paragon seemed like a billion miles away, the Gabe that flew through city streets surfing a voltaic wave, defending the people, busting crooks and busting heads, seemed like a billion years away.
Kalie came out onto the balcony, looking as radiant as she ever did.
“You look good” she said, jumping to the balcony and perching there, “the kids are at Aisha’s”
Ah, the twins, Gabe’s endless source of joy, pride and consternation.
They made it all worth it: you couldn’t raise a family in Paragon, he wouldn’t, he’d refused. He wouldn’t arm his little girls for school, worry about Hellions and Skullz and Outcasts by the busstop, worry about drug pushers, about alien warships and plasma fire burning city blocks.
He’d shielded his girls from Paragon, because he himself was trying to forget. But a kind of idealized version of the City of Heroes lived on in his bedtime stories.
Fictionalized accounts of his time pounding pavement served as moral instruction: The story of the nefarious Dr. V explained just why you never went home with a stranger; Peer pressure was explored by the epic saga of the tank-men and their strange impulse to replace flesh with chrome; When it came time for them to start dating they’d learn about Vanessa DeVore and what happens when you act on pleasure alone. Yes, he’d reduced himself to four-color-comic morality nightly in the entrancing tales of the Angel and the Cat.
“it’s been too long” Gabe said, looking out over the city.
“You said you’d never do it again,” Kalie said with a bit of a reproachful smile.
“Sic Semper Maelfactor, my love, there will always be villains”
“Yeah, I know.”
“These people need a hero,” Gabe said, and picked himself up into the air on an electromagnetic pulse with a sound like a camera flash charging.
“Thought you said you were retired.”
“So could you sit inside while they rob another bank? Murder a few more hostages?”
Kalie smiled thinly, “I called Aisha during my lunch, arranged for a babysitter, dear.”
Gabe spun to face her slowly in midair, “I thought you would.”
Gabe finished suiting up, snugging his earpiece in and turning on his radio, “Templar here” he said, keying the mic, “talk to me”
A young cop, probably a rookie, came in over the sound of an engine’s insane scream, “this is air pursuit 4, they’re on 17th, two hostages and the contents of the vault in a van, armed and armored, sir.”
As soon as they gave the location Kalie leapt, with a single impulse kick she was sailing across the bright, wide moon.
Gabe pressed the button again, “Give us 10 minutes”
“Traffic is solid on the bridge, you’ll never make it sir,”
Gabe grinned even wider as he pushed over the edge of the balcony and down, freefalling to build up speed before he pulled out in a graceful arc just over the blacktop, weaving among the nighttime south-end traffic.
He felt alive again, and though he was focused on his martial task, he was giggling, erupting to a full laugh. Yes he was alive again, in the public service sailing through the night borne on electricity, tacking against the magnetic fields. Yes, he came alive once more.
“I don’t think traffic will be a problem,” he said, as he took the corner in an inertial drift-side, letting the field of a power cable bend his trajectory to an intercept course.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
“Come on Maddy, be a good girl and brush your teeth,” Aisha chided, trying to corral the girls into the bathroom.
She was a sweet girl, Maddy, though a little more rebellious than her sister, Morgan.
“Tell us a bedtime story?” Morgan asked.
“Yes, of course, what would you like to hear?”
“Tell us about the clock army!” she said, bouncing towards the bed.
“I don’t *know* about any clock army dear, and you still need to brush your teeth.”
Morgan pouted dejectedly, “Cinderella then?”
“Cinderella works”
“Daddy would tell us about the Clocks,” she said, disheartened, “or about the shadow aliens, or…”
Aisha tuned her out as she stopped in front of the bay window, knowing there was only one reason to be asked to babysit at this time and on such short notice. The TV had said there had been another robbery. Aisha thought she saw a shadow against the thin clouds, glinting moonlight.