The DCFuture Underground Fan Fiction Group acknowledges that DC 
Comics owns the name Damage and ALL DC-created characters and 
retains complete rights to said characters.  These concepts are used 
WITHOUT permission for NO PROFIT, but rather a strong desire to peer 
into the future of the DCU.  We also acknowledge that the concepts 
and original characters introduced here are the intellectual 
property of the author.

	Where do you turn when what you once thought was solid 
ground, evaporates beneath your feet? To whom do you turn when those 
you once trusted betray you? If the people you once had faith in 
can't be trusted; maybe it's time to turn to someone you never had 
any faith in. After all, if they fail you then, at least you won't 
be disappointed. 

Damage DCF LS Issue 2
Written by Oliver Kiemschies
Edited by Wayne Ligon

Part 1: Least likely to Succeed

May 31,2112 -- 1:00 a.m.
128th West Euclid Avenue Unit 128
Cleveland, Ohio

	Don Dawson quietly slipped passed his floor manager's 
apartment as he entered his own residence.
	"Why disturb the poor old man's sleep," thought Don. "After 
all, he'll only worry about things that are beyond his control, such 
as why my rent is two days late. Let him sleep and avoid the hassle. 
Besides, if my latest enterprise works out I'll end up with a few 
extra creds, and who knows, I may even pay the rent with it."
	As Don hung his jacket by the door, he almost didn't notice 
the man in a janitor's uniform,  passed out on his couch. He quietly 
picked up the ergball bat he kept by the door. Don gently nudged the 
sleeping intruder, noticing as he did how bruised the man appeared 
to be.
	"Hey buddy, wake up, and please, no throwing up in my 
place."
	"Why?" said the groggy man "Is the mess that's already here 
afraid of the competition?"
	"Sorry, the maid's been ill. If you got a problem with the 
mess, try breaking into a better class of apartment."
	"You haven't changed much Don. I think this is the same 
couch you had in college."
	Don was taken aback by this remark.
	"Do I know you?"
	"Yeah, remember the TA in college who DIDN'T flunk you?"
	Don finally recognized the injured face. "Jack, Jack Ordway! 
Jesus man, what happened to you? You've really slipped, old buddy."
	"I was pushed."
	"Hey if you're in trouble I don't want anything to do 
with..."
	"If I remember properly," Jack interrupted, "if someone 
finds himself in trouble you might be just the guy to see."
	"Well Jack, that depends on two things. What kind of trouble 
you're in, and what I can get in return."
	"One," replied Jack, "I have no idea what kind of trouble 
I'm in. Two, you already owe me."
	"Owe you? Do you have some kind of receipt? Perhaps an 
I.O.U?" 
	"Don, you would have been booted out of school if it weren't 
for me."
	"Oh and that would have been horrible, I've been able to 
make such fine use of my education."
	"Don, hear me out. At the very least I can promise you an 
one hell of a story."
	Don sat in the chair next to Jack. He did owe Jack, though 
he would never admit it. Besides, he always did have a weakness for 
an interesting story.

***

Part 2: Betrayal

May 30,2112 8:30 p.m.
Ross-Tech Labs 36th Floor
Cleveland, Ohio

	Marcus DelaO was putting the final touches on the report 
about his most recent project. The science was questionable, and the 
project was doomed, but all he needed to fix it was some good spin 
and the proper scapegoat. He'd been having trouble with Reggie from 
Micro-Fabrication lately. Who cares if he had nothing to with the 
project? He wasn't going to let a little thing like scruples get in 
his way this time. He didn't often stab someone in the back so 
blatantly, but he was sick of being a nobody at this company. If he 
wanted to get anywhere he had to get serious about advancing his 
career at any cost.
	The door to his office opened, startling Marcus out of his 
thoughts of advancement gained at the expense of others. A man in 
gray overalls and an Indian's cap entered the office. The overall's 
and the cleaning unit he was pushing identified him to Marcus as one 
of the janitorial staff. "You couldn't wait until I'm done working 
to start this could you?"
	"I was actually hoping for a little help?" said the Janitor 
as he took off his cap.
	"I'd love to but it's not in my job desc..." Marcus 
interrupted his sentence when he looked up and saw the bruised, 
battered, but familiar face of the man in the Janitor's uniform.
	"Jack! My God what happened to you?"
	"Would you believe a transfer?"
	"Jack, you look like hell."
	"Marcus, they tried to kill me, they took Sarah they took 
Lori."
	"You're not making any sense. Who did this? Were you 
mugged?"
	"The company did it, Ross-Tech did it."
	Marcus fell silent. His brain was having trouble accepting 
this statement. Ironically he wasn't having much trouble believing 
Ross-Tech was capable of murder. He was having trouble figuring out 
why they'd bother with Jack.
	"Wait why would the company try to kill you, and what was 
the other part, TAKE Sarah and Lori. What do you mean by that?"
	"I mean they're gone Marcus. The lab kidnapped them, and 
erased all record of them. Everything is gone!"
	"What the hell are you talking about, you're making some 
pretty wild accusations here.  Why do you believe the lab is out to 
get you, I mean why would they?"
	"I'm guessing it has to do with this."
	Jack reached out with his telekinesis and levitated Marcus' 
desk by a few inches. Marcus scattered backwards. Jack could tell he 
was afraid to be near the levitated desk, almost as if it were 
contaminated. For a moment Jack experienced a strangely familiar 
feeling of rejection. Although rejection is familiar to most people, 
this was a specific form of rejection. Meta-humans have often spoken 
of feeling ostracized because of their powers. Numerous articles, 
books, talk shows, and even movies of the week have been based on 
the well-known premise. Even though Jack knew of the phenomenon it 
didn't explain why he felt as if he had experienced this before, 
first hand.
	"How long have you been able to do this? I mean the Justice 
League doesn't like undocumented metas running around. Maybe the 
League came after you."
	"Doubtful. First off, my powers showed up when I was 
attacked. Whoever attacked me didn't know I was a meta yet. Second, 
I was attacked by lab property."
	"Wait, just because you didn't know you were a meta doesn't 
mean the Justice League doesn't know. Second, the lab has tons of 
contracts with the League."
	"Then why not try to recruit me, why just try to kill me."
	"Why would the lab try to kill you, Jack?"
	Jack was quiet for a moment. Marcus was right. There was an 
outside chance that the Justice League was behind this. Either way, 
Ross-Tech was the Jack's only lead.
	"Look, Marcus, maybe you're right, but even so, the machine 
that attacked me was made here. It's a lead. I need to do some 
poking around, and see what I can find out.
	Jack slowly let gravity return the desk to its rightful 
place on the ground. 
	"Sweet Elvis, Jack, I just don't know."
	"Come on, Marcus I know you've got Lisa's access codes, 
that's the only reason you went out with her."
	"I could get in a lot of trouble."
	"Please Marcus, Sarah and Lori need me. I have nowhere else 
to turn."
	Marcus DelaO thought for a moment. Why would the lab, the 
Justice League, or anyone go after Jack this way, undocumented meta 
or not? Either Jack was hiding something, or there was something 
else going on that made Jack important.
	"Alright Jack, I'm in."
	Jack beamed.
	"Thanks, you're saving my life. The thing that attacked me 
was nanotech, your ex-girlfriend is the Nano-Tech group 
coordinator." Marcus DelaO pulled himself to the computer at his 
desk, and began to access forbidden databases.
	"You wouldn't believe the miniaturization jokes I had to 
endure while I was dating her," he said as he worked the codes that 
would mask his virtual presence.
	"Yes, I would. I started most of them," Jack commented as he 
observed over Marcus' shoulder.
	"The thing that attacked me was some kind of robot. He was 
mostly nanotech but had some hard parts. At one point it had to 
reboot, and it called itself a Ross-Tech Labs Autonomous Agent."
	"That's a good start."
	Marcus began to pattern his searches.
	"Bingo, we have something." 
	Jack stared intently at the document Marcus had uncovered.
	"They call it Metallo v2.0 it's specs say it was made out of 
some early nanotech from the TwenCen that was once used..."
	"Look I'm sure the specs are interesting, but I'm more 
interested in the "why's" than the "how's". Does our friend still 
work for us, or did we make him for someone else?"
	Marcus looked further. He had difficulty admitting what he 
saw. There was every indication Metallo was still Ross-Tech property.
	"He's one of ours, Jack. You were right, the Lab did do it."
	"But why?
	"This is all Technical information, nothing about missions." 
	Marcus continued to scan for pertinent information. "There 
are a few references to some other documents."
	The pair began to scan through the references to other 
technical documents.
	"Jack, did you have much to do with the Nano-Machine 
project?"
	"A little, why?"
	"Look at this: Use of JACK Matrix for Nano-Machine Long 
String Coding Stabilization"
	"Actually that kind of makes sense. One of the problems with 
the technology is getting long strings of nano-machines to 
stabilize. It was one of the things I was working on, I don't 
remember anything called a Jack Matrix though. Besides they usually 
name stuff like this after people's last names."
	"Well we've got nothing else to go on, I'm calling it up."
	Marcus attempted to do so, but was stopped by further 
security.
	"Not to worry Jack, I have a few more tricks up my sleeve."
	Marcus unleashed some highly illegal intelligent agent 
software given to him by another one of his "contacts".
	"Ross-Tech was developing some of this stuff before the UN 
declared it illegal. Not many copies of are left, and if it weren't 
for some top of the line cloaking software, we'd have the law down 
our throats in a Bludhaven minute."
	The file finally opened. Though much of the document was 
garbled, enough was still legible to make it obvious they were 
reading about some sort of genetics experiment.
	"What the hell is this, what does that machine have to do 
with genetics and why does the word meta appear all over this 
document?" Marcus asked rhetorically.
	"Search for any references to me."
	Marcus complied with Jack's request, and found references to 
several other documents. He called up the first large document.
	"This one looks like some kind of diary.", Marcus said as he 
peered through the document.
	"Jack,... I think it's about you."
	"What are you talking about Marcus? I've never taken part in 
any kind of genetics project."
	"Jesus Jack, you're not listed as part of the research team, 
you're listed as the subject."
	"I've been experimented on? Is that how I've gotten these 
powers?"
	"You're not getting the depth of this Jack. You haven't been 
experimented on. You ARE the experiment."

***

That same moment
Ross-Tech Labs Penthouse

	Duane Smithson sat at his desk monitoring the alarm messages 
that indicated a security breach in Jack's files. It had been done 
so with some rather impressive software that nobody else should have 
access to. It had also occurred three hours before he expected. Even 
with the 1.5 hour margin of error he had allowed for, this was still 
too early. He had slightly underestimated Jack, and made a mental 
note to update the appropriate time tables. He quietly sat and 
monitored the information Jack was viewing. "Just a few tidbits of 
truth for you, Mr. Ordway."

***

Ross-Tech Labs 36th Floor

	Jack sat at the console with a deadpan expression, re-
reading the documents  he had found. Marcus passed behind him, 
seeming more nervous than Jack.
	"Man I can't believe this. This is big, this is huge."
	"I still don't understand why they would take Sarah and 
Lori. And why the hell can't I find more, like their location!"
	"Jack, I hate to say this, but are you sure they just 
weren't killed."
	Jack looked into Marcus' eyes. Marcus remembered what Jack 
was now capable of, and regretted his question.
	"No, someone went to serious lengths to erase them from 
history. Why go through that trouble if you're going to kill them?"
	"There is one other possibility. Those documents are telling 
us that a lot of your life has been faked, right?"
	"What are you getting at Marcus?"
	"Don't get mad, Jack, but doesn't it make sense that they're 
fake too."
	Jack pondered that for a moment. He reached for his wallet 
and pulled out his most valued possession. He starred at the photo 
of his wife and child, long enough to make Marcus nervous.
	"No. They were real, and they need me."
	"All right Jack. I believe you. I'll start looking for 
them." Marcus sat down at a workstation across from Jack. Jack 
looked back to the display, and continued to search for clues for 
his missing family. Marcus had seen enough. He'd gone this far 
hoping he'd find out something useful. He'd hoped for some good 
blackmail material against someone in the company, but this was more 
than he'd bargained for. Marcus opened a connection to the security 
team, and requested immediate assistance.

***

Ross-Tech Labs Penthouse

	Amusement passed over Duane Smithson's face as he watched 
his console.
	"You certainly don't have very loyal friends do you Jack? 
Well, I can't keep Mr. DelaO waiting."
	The C.E.O. activated his communications link, and the face 
of his security chief appeared before him.
	"Mr. Baginski, he's returned a bit earlier than we 
expected."
	"That's impos..." the hired guard stopped himself before he 
contradicted his superior, " I don't know how he got past us sir."
	Duane Smithson gave no thought to the comment, since he 
fully expected Jack to circumvent the standard security measures.
	"He's on the 36th floor, unit 8A."
	"We're on our way sir. Don't worry, we'll get him one 
way..."
	"No, no you won't." Smithson interrupted dryly, "Smithson 
out." 
	Before the security chief could put words to his puzzled 
expression, the link was disengaged.
	"It won't even be an amusing show."

***

Ross-Tech Labs 36th Floor

	"Gardner, Guy ; Garrick, Jay, Garrick, Joan, Garrison,... 
something with an "M". Damn. Lots of this list is illegible."
	"All those people, they were used to MAKE you?"
	Jack looked up at Marcus.
	"If I'm to believe any of this. Genetic material must have 
been collected for over a century. There are over a hundred names 
here. I don't even begin to understand any of the data on how the 
material was combined. Most of it is corrupted."
	"So many people," Marcus interrupted.
	"All I can get on the process are a few key phrases, like 
Multi-Gene Folding, and Dominant Sector Exhibition."
	"Wasn't there someone in the TwenCen that was made up of a 
bunch of old heroes? Damn, what did they call him?"
	Jack was about to answer Marcus when he "heard" somebody 
coming. Faintly, in the back of his head, he could sense the 
presence of other minds approaching the office.
	"Someone's coming."
	"Probably the real cleaning staff," he said as he tried to 
reassure the man he had just secretly reported to security.
	Jack stood suddenly and overturned the desk in front of 
Marcus.
	"Get down!" was all he managed to get out before the office 
door exploded. Security men poured in through the hole in the wall 
with their weapons trained on Jack.
	"Do not move, or we will fire," barked the point-man. Jack 
looked past the men at the Electro-net fire protection pull box in 
the hall. Jack smiled at the hired thugs.
	"Did someone say fire?" he quipped as he reached out with 
his telekinesis and activated the pull box. A fine gray powder 
sprayed from the fire protection nozzles overhead. 
	All the computer screens flickered, and went dead. The read-
outs on the security teams' electronic weapons also went dark. 
Before the point-man could shout out the order for his thugs to 
switch to mechanical weapons, Jack struck him with a mental reset. 
The team leader was momentarily confused, adding to the already 
existing chaos. The mental feedback he'd felt before again struck 
Jack, but the headache was manageable. 
	Jack leapt backwards through the office windows and began to 
plummet earthwards. Mentally, he grabbed onto the Ross-Tech building 
and slowed his decent. One floor above the ground he twisted around 
and pushed up against the street, veering off parallel to the 
streets in front of Ross-Tech. After he turned the first corner, he 
telekinetically popped a manhole cover, and escaped down the 
Cleveland sewers.
	Marcus sat on his office floor coughing up gray dust. He 
snapped his fingers.
	"Damage."
	The security men stared at him in bewilderment.
	"That's what his name was. Damage."

*** Ross-Tech Labs Penthouse

	Duane Smithson frowned as his tracking display went blank. 
The shielding in the Cleveland sewer system was even more than his 
state of the art tracking equipment could handle. "I'll just have to 
wait for you to resurface."
	He looked at a video window on his desk replaying Jack's 
escape.
	"Ha, did somebody say fire," he commented. "I was wrong, it 
was an amusing show."  

***

Part 3: Hope

May 31,2112 -- 1:30 a.m.
128th West Euclid Avenue Unit 128
Cleveland, Ohio

	Don sat fixated as Jack finished his story. Jack had proven 
his powers to Don much as he had to Marcus, except unlike Marcus, 
Don was enthralled by the powers instead of repulsed.
	"So you're cloned from all those people?"
	"According to the files we found."
	"And you can fly."
	"Not incredibly well, but I can get around."
	Don considered the story for a moment.
	"How did you take to your powers so quickly? I've read it 
takes some metas years to get the hang of their powers."
	"I don't know, that worries me."
	Don scratched his chin.
	"How do you think security found you."
	"Marcus ratted me out."
	Don cocked his eye in surprise.
	"How did you know?"
	"I can tell when he's lying. For all his practice he's not 
very good at it. Frankly I expected him to turn me in, but I needed 
his access codes."
	"You don't seem to have much faith in your friends."
	"I know Marcus, I know what to expect. He would wait to turn 
me in until he found out what kind of opportunities he might be 
presented with. I could use that time to get some useful information 
before I had to make a run for it. I actually had the pull box 
staked out before I went into his office."
	"How do you know I won't turn you in to the cops"
	"For one, I'm sure you probably try to avoid the cops."
	"Granted." he said with a smirk.
	"But why should I help you? What's in it for me?"
	Jack paused.
	"Nothing," he said quietly.
	"Eww. A hard sell."
	"You owe me Don."
	"No, not at this level. This is serious Justice League level 
stuff."
	"Don, I'm asking you to do this just because it's the right 
thing to do. My wife and daughter are out there somewhere. For God's 
sake, Lori isn't even two yet." Don could see  Jack's eyes begin to 
well up.
	"Don, haven't you ever done anything just because it's the 
right thing to do?"
	"Can't say that I have, Jack."
	Before Jack could continue with his plea, an explosion 
rocked the apartment. Don instinctively dove to the ground. Jack ran 
to the side of the window, and carefully peered outside, trying to 
provide as little of a target as possible. From his vantage point he 
could see a hole in the north-west corner of the 12th floor of the 
neighboring building.  Much of the upper part of the building was 
engulfed in flames. Jack could see flashes of light inside the 
building and hear shots being fired.
	"Friends of yours Jack?"
	"Actually it looks like there's some kind of firefight going 
on over there."
	"Coincidence?"
	"Doubt it."
	"You should get the hell out of here."
	Jack suddenly leaped out of Don's window.
	"You could have used the door!" Don yelled as he ran to the 
window.
	Looking out, Don saw the true reason behind Jack's hasty 
exit. A mother and a small boy were dangling out of a window seeking 
refuge from the flames inside. Jack was speeding towards them. Jack 
mentally pushed himself away from Don's building. As his contact on 
the building behind him was exceeded, he grabbed the building in 
front of him, performing the telekinetic equivalent to a trapeze 
act. The mother's grip on the ledge outside of her home finally 
gave out. Before she could begin her silent prayer, a pair of arms 
caught her and began to slow her descent.
	"Don't worry ma'am, I've got you."
	"You've got me ... who's got you?"
	The woman looked down briefly, and tightened her grip on her 
son. Jack and his passengers soon reached the ground. Screams could 
still be heard inside, and Jack reached out for the building 
preparing for another rescue.
	"Why are you doing this to our home?"
	"What?"
	"Why are you attacking our home? Most of us are good people, 
we ain't done nothing wrong, why are you League boys destroying our 
homes?"
	"Ma'am, I'm not with the League," he said looking up and 
again observing the obvious signs of a firefight in the building, 
"and I don't know who's fighting whom, but there are people in that 
fire, and they need help."
	Jack removed his coat, and handed it to the woman. "Here, 
hold this."
	He renewed his grasp on the building, pulling himself along 
the structure. He reached the 12th floor, where the fire seemed the 
worst, and pulled himself inside. Flame began to lick at him, 
causing moderate pain. He pushed out with his telekinesis, and the 
flame receded from him. 
	"Partial invulnerability to fire, remember that," he 
thought.
	As he exited into the hall, he was nearly felled by an 
energy bolt crossing his path. Jack quickly ducked back into the 
apartment. He could see a boy, about six years of age across the 
hall. He was backed against the hallway wall, crouching on the floor 
trying to his best to avoid the dangerously close volley of weapons 
discharge.
	"Make this easy on yourself, George!" bellowed a voice to 
Jack's right, followed by a volley of blue energy. "You ain't strong 
enough to take me, Spandex!" yelled a voice to Jack's left, followed 
by a spray of bullets.
	"Terrorist scum, you think you're strong?"
	More energy bolts shot over the frightened boy's head. He 
was crying uncontrollably and looked like he was about to lose 
control.
	"STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT," yelled the crying 
boy.
	Jack felt a rage building in him. He began to shake with 
anger, and clench his fists. The next sensation he felt took him 
completely by surprise. Jack felt rain. At first he thought it was 
the building sprinkler system, but he soon realized that he wasn't 
even in the building anymore. He was outside, it was raining, and he 
was standing at a graveside. The rage was still inside him, but he 
realized HE was no longer inside him.  He was a small boy. Standing 
in front of two fresh graves.
	"Never again," swore the boy's body.
	"Mother, Father, I swear, nobody else will have to go 
through what I've gone through."
	Again Jack was elsewhere. It was a warm night, late spring 
maybe early summer. He was teenager now. An old man was standing 
next to him, talking to him. Though he didn't recognize the man, he 
knew it was his father.
	"No, not Father," he thought, "my Pa, it's Pa."
	The teen looked down, the old man was motioning to a wooden 
door on the ground. The teens' body removed a heavy makeshift wooden 
cover revealing a small rocket inside a hole in the ground.
	"We've tried to raise you right, boy." the old man said. 
"It's about responsibility, Clark. Everybody has gifts and it's our 
responsibility to use those gifts to help people."
	Again Jack was elsewhere. He was basking in green light. In 
one hand he held a lantern. His other fist was pressed to the 
lantern. This body was speaking some sort of oath.
	"... no evil shall escape my sight, let those who worship 
evil's might beware my power ..."
	Jack was returned to the present, starring directly into the 
panicking boy's eyes.
	"So you think you're strong?" taunted a combatant. 
	Jack peered to the right and could see the Justice Leaguer 
leaning around the corner, firing energy bolts from a cybernetic 
arm. Looking left, he could see the man who was returning fire, also 
hiding around the corner. He looked back at the boy.
	"Tell me, terrorist, you think you're stronger than the 
League? We've got the power, we've got the weapons! TELL ME TOUGH 
GUY, WHAT"S STRONGER THAN THE LEAGUE!"
	"Hope," whispered Jack.
	Jack leapt for the boy, positioning his back toward the 
energy weapon. As the first bolt struck him, only his shirt was 
burned away. The second bolt burned away a few layers of skin. In 
front of him, the alleged terrorist opened fire. 
	Lying on top of the boy, Jack was able to physically protect 
the boy from most of the hail of bullets, and utilizing his 
telekinesis he was able to protect the boy from the rest of the 
weapons fire. Though the bullets hurt, he would survive. The boy 
wouldn't have. He mentally grabbed the high tech rifle the terrorist 
held, and pulled it free. The weapon rushed toward Jack, toward and 
past. Jack glanced over his shoulder, giving the rifle a push on its 
way toward the Justice League thug. Jack would never forget the 
priceless look on the Leaguer's face as the weapon lodged itself in 
the cybernetic weapon that replaced the man's left hand. Both 
weapons exploded on impact, sending the unconscious Leaguer reeling 
backwards. A low power optic blast from Jack rendered the surprised 
terrorist unconscious as well.
	"It's okay," Jack comforted. "It's okay, son, you're safe."
	The youngster held tightly to Jack, crying uncontrollably. 
"Please, Mister. I need my Daddy, where's my Daddy?"
	"I'll try to find him son, I'll do my best."

***

May 31, 2112 --- 3:00 a.m.
In front of West 127th Euclid Avenue
Cleveland, Ohio

	Jack sat in an ambulance as a med-tech tended to the burns 
on his back. Marcus walked to the open vehicle door.
	"Can we have a minute alone?" he asked. 
	Jack nodded approval, and the med-tech gathered a few 
supplies and left to attend to other victims.
	"Jack," questioned Marcus, "how come nobody's arresting 
anybody?"
	"I don't know. My guess is the League is a bit embarrassed. 
This was pretty messy, the Leaguer may have been acting beyond his 
authority." 
	"I don't see any cops. What happened to the participants in 
the fight?"
	"Disappeared, I wouldn't be surprised if a League clean-up 
got them while I was rescuing the others. From what I've heard this 
is being reported as just a fire. Nobody here is talking about how 
they were rescued, and the medics seem to think I'm just another 
victim with some minor burns.
	"Still, aren't you a wanted man."
	"Only by Ross-Tech. I'm sure it wouldn't take them long to 
fabricate something against me, though."
	"We may want to get going.."
	Jack nodded in agreement.
	"By the way, good job with the rescue."
	Jack looked over to where the boy he rescued was being 
loaded into a city services vehicle.
	"I found his dad."
	"What?"
	"I found the kid's dad," he said motioning to the six year 
old.
	"So where is he?"
	Jack pointed to a body bag being loaded into a truck by an 
ambulance driver.
	"Oh no."
	"No, not him, the driver."
	"Excuse me?"
	"His dad is the medic, he was at work while the kid was with 
neighbors. He just wanted his dad to know he was okay."
	Don appeared visibly relieved.
	"The body in the bag could have been somebody's dad, 
though."
	"Jack you rescued a lot of people, I don't want to hear any 
of that self flagellation you superheroes are so well known for."
	"Superhero?"
	"Well you don't have a cape, but after this..."
	Jack was already becoming accustomed to thinking of himself 
as a meta-human, but he hadn't yet considered himself a 'superhero'. 
	"I'll understand if you don't want to help, Don. You could 
get into mountains of trouble."
	"Trouble! Now that's the best selling point you've given me 
all night."
	"Seriously!"
	"I AM serious. I've been thinking about this. You just 
risked everything to help those people. You risked pain, death, and 
exposure to the cops to help people you don't even know. You asked 
me if I've ever done anything just because it's the right thing to 
do. Well no I haven't, not yet."
	"Don, it's hard not just thinking about yourself these 
days...."
	"But not you Jack. You were thinking about something much 
bigger than yourself. I saw that look in your eyes each time you 
dropped someone off, and headed back in to save someone else. I've 
never had a look like that. NEVER, and frankly, I'm jealous."
	"I don't follow Don?"
	"Jack, I want to have that look in my eyes. You can't care 
that deeply when all you care about is yourself. You have to be 
thinking about something bigger than yourself to have that kind 
of .. of .. fervor. Jack, I want, no, I NEED to help you."
	"Do you understand the danger you'd be putting yourself in?"
	"Jack, I'm a twenty-eight year old hustler, who's put his 
life on the line just to get crappy Indians tickets. It's well past 
time that I put my life on the line for the right thing."
	"Thanks, Don. I owe you."
	Marcus surveyed all the people who would be dead if it 
weren't for Jack.
	"Just teach me."
	"Teach you what?"
	"Teach me how to have a look like that."

***

Epilog:

Ross-Tech Labs, Penthouse

	Duane Smithson surveyed the report of the fire. "Ah Jack, 
you were made from only the best."
	He read his spy's report about the appearance of the League 
clean-up crew. They were not happy about their agents actions.
	"It's understandable, though," he said to himself. "After 
all, the terrorist had ALLEGEDLY killed the Leaguer's partner. A man 
takes that kind of thing personally, especially with how close they 
were reported to be. Still," he said with mock uncertainty, "I 
wonder who informed that known hothead as to the terrorist 
whereabouts?"
	Duane Smithson snickered.
	"Another excellent success Jack. I couldn't be more proud. 
So noble, so righteous, so ... predictable." 

*** End of Issue 2

Coming in issue 3: Maybe I should join a club or something.

Suggested Music for this issue:
        
        Least Likely to Succeed: Prologue by Loreena McKennitt
        Hope: Uninvited by Alanis Morissette