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Based on the Vignette 'Happy Birthday'. Powerhouse's Assumed Birthday is December 25th (For more information, regard the note at the end of; This post Which explains why Powerhouse's Birthday is assigned at December 25th. While I could use his actual birthday, Powerhouse wouldn't realize to celebrate it, and it's just another day for him) ___________________________________________________________________________________________________ His bag held in his hand, Tim Tricoas - also known as Powerhouse with a wig - rushed down the sidewalk towards his work, having to side-step people walking around together and the requisite pane of glass people were moving as he did so. The reason he was running was because, for some reason, the buses weren’t working today, and only his self-control prevented Tim from using his speed or jumping power to reach the building faster, he was only almost late, after all. Almost crashing into the door, Tim attempted to open it, only to find it locked, and hit the speaker, only to get no response. ‘Sherry must be away from her desk.’ Tim fumbled in his coat for his keys, reaching through his pockets at the snow built up on the shoulders of his jacket; he realized he didn’t have them. Head-butting the door just enough to avoid breaking it, Tim sighed. “Tim? What are you doing?†a voice asked from behind him, causing time to turn around, shaking out snow from his head. Behind him was a guy wearing a thick coat, and Tim’s supervisor. Tim waved. “Hello Sir. I’m trying to get into work and I forgot my keys, can you let me in?†The man offered a strange stare at him, making Tim feel slightly uncomfortable. After staring at him for almost a full minute, the man finally spoke up again. “Tim. It’s Christmas. Go home.†He finally said, before turning around and walking back to people who must have been his family, and walking off, leaving Tim standing in front of the locked doors staring after him. “But...what’s Christmas?†He asked to the man’s retreating back in a whisper, heading back to his family, and though the man did not turn, and, after a few minutes, left with his family, smiling and laughing about the day they were having. Having no work to go to, and no one to visit- even a visit from Metatron or Cherubim would be great, even if that would end with him beaten, bloody, and dragged back to Yellow Forest- Tim, still not understanding why all these people were hanging out together, decided the best thing he could do was to turn back to his normal identity and stop crime, so the dark haired Tim, wearing his full overcoat, decided to go off to fight crime, having nothing else to do today meaning that it was either that, or sleep, and he wasn’t tired. So, Tim ducked off into an ally, hid behind a dumpster, and quickly took off his costume, becoming Powerhouse once more, and then leapt up to a nearby building to look over the city, watching for crime so that he might stop it. Standing on a building, Powerhouse was like a dark avenger of the night, if the Dark avenger wore no shirt, had no cape, wore brightly colored spandex pants, and had no crime to fight. Indeed, for all of Powerhouse’s attempts to be a Hero today, the only people out seemed to be a handful of drunks, and even he realized there probably wasn’t a reason to go after them, maybe they’d just shuffle home and not hurt anyone, so he was left sitting on a building, waiting for something, anything, to go wrong. Then again, when something DID go wrong, he always seemed to get there too late, either some other Hero was already wrapping things up- and Powerhouse stayed away from them, as he would have hated to seem like he was trying to steal their spot-light- or they were false alarms, and nothing bad was going on. So after about four hours of trying to be a hero, and failing, Powerhouse gathered up his things, and went back to his apartment, somewhat dejected, but realizing there was no reason to be a Superhero today, for some reason, probably related to this ‘Christmas’ thing. Dropping his bag next to the door of his apartment, Powerhouse removed the wig that hid him from the world and dropped onto his desk. It was a sparse apartment, a desk, a bed, and one of those T.V. things, and a single clock on his desk. He sat at the desk quietly for a time, not working on anything, instead looking outside through his window. He spared a look at the clock, however, after a bit. “Huh…11:59.†He muttered, picking up the item while the red lights stared back at him. It changed. “I think that means I’m a year older now.†Powerhouse muttered, something like his age was meaningless to him. It did not mean he was older, or wiser, simply that he put a different number in his ‘age’ category. Putting the clock down on the desk and standing up. “Happy birthday…†He added, to himself, as he fell into his bed. His first birthday free from Yellow Forest, and, for some reason, it felt worse than it had there. That should have been impossible, but as the Hero curled into a ball on his cramped bed, he did not dream of happiness. He dreamt of clocks, for a time, then awakened once more, at 2AM, unable to effectively sleep anymore. Left with that, and no ability to sleep, he sat on his bed in his cramped apartment, and thought about what it meant to be a Year older. Not a lot was his eventual response, being a year older meant almost nothing to him. He had spent about half a year free now, and all he could count for his age was ‘time in the Forest’ versus ‘Time free’, and all he hoped was that, somehow, he’d manage to end up with more ‘Time Free’ then ‘Time in the Forest’ whenever he died. Powerhouse thought about these for several hours, attempting to judge what his life was worth, and came up with almost nothing. “I…don’t really have a life do I?†He thought, looking out of his single window. “I guess I stop bad guys, but I don’t have anything else, do I?†He stared at the falling Snow. “But that’s okay, isn’t it? There always has to be a person who doesn’t have time for masks, doesn’t have time to live a normal life. I suppose I can just be that person.†He said, grinning at his own hands, though he felt hollow inside. He went out and patrolled again, from 10AM till 5PM, but there wasn’t a single crime in sight and at 5, he just went back to his apartment again.

July 7th. 1993. That was the day that the future savior of Broadway was born. His name was to be Gordy St. James, first child of Gina Favro-St. James and Robert St. James. Though most significant- Lilly stuck her head into Gordy’s room as he was typing away on his new desktop PC he had just gotten for his birthday. “Are you writing your autobiography again? You’ve been in one touring production, how are you famous?†Gordy steadfastly refuses to look toward the door as he continues typing. “Hey, everyone has to start small. Besides, I am famous. Everyone at the Beaudrie knows my name.†“Big deal, they know my name too, ‘cause mom still drags me their instead of just letting me sit at home after school. How come you get to go to boarding school?†Gordy smiles in a way he knows will infuriate his younger sister. “Because I’m special.†Lilly grunted in annoyance. This was the answer she got whenever she asked about Gordy getting to go away for school, while she was stuck going to Eisner. Still, mom and dad weren’t making her go to summer camp as a way of forcing her into more normal social interaction. So she had that to be happy about. “Mom says it’s time for dinner. You’ll just have to lie about how awesome your life is later.†Birthday dinners where always a nice affair for the Favro-St. James family. Thomas, and it was always Thomas, never Tom or Tommy, had come by this year. Lilly was fairly certain he was only there for the free meal, but it was nice to see her half brother from time to time. “So short stuff, how’s it feel to be 15?†Thomas liked rubbing it in that he took after his father, and at 17 he stood 6’2, towering almost a foot over his half-brother. Gordy stuck his tongue out at Thomas. Still calling him short all the time. Five dollars says that with a year of school at Claremont under his belt he could take him in a fight. Not that mom would approve. Plus he was supposed to keep his powers secret from his siblings, Thomas especially. Godry had heard horror stories about Thomas father and his knack for exploiting people. There was a good chance he would try to get back into his mothers life if he found out about Gordy. “Well Tom, I have to say I feel ever so much more mature. In fact Tom, I’m not even going to rise to your bait about my height. Especially not when I have a show tomorrow. You’ll have to come by Tom, see me with all the flowers and accolades we actors earn.†Across the table Gina smiled, though she was obviously a little tired. Even with Robert making more money now then when the family lived in the Fens, Gina still had to work long hours at Beaudrie to afford the new place, and to pay Claremont tuition. She still couldn’t believe that Robert had bought Gordy a computer for his birthday. Oh, sure he rationalized that it was something the whole family could use, and it would help him with his case files, but Gina knew he just liked spoiling the kids. The upcoming bills for summer camp for Gordy and dance camp for Lilly spoke to that. But as long as they kept making rent and utilities Gina couldn’t really complain. Godry was halfway through his second helping of baked ziti when there was a knock on the door. They where early. Probably looking for free food. Lilly gets up and answers the door, letting in Frank and Bill, though Gordy more often referred to them as Marius and Enjorlas, the characters they would be playing. “Hi guys. You’re early. We haven’t even gotten to the cake yet.†Gordy saw the smiles they tried to hide. Part of him was amused at his cast mates transparent gesture. And part of him was annoyed that as actors they didn’t hide their smiles better. “I suppose we should do that part now.†After a round of happy birthday, a rather vocally full round thanks to the participants, and a slice of cake for everyone, Gordy grabbed his overnight bag and hugged his mother, his sister and his father. Thomas he punched in the shoulder after receiving the same. Off to an acting gig in Autumn Arbor, the first of a few weekend away performances he was going to be in this summer. Some kids might want an X-Box or a Wii for their birthdays. Gordy just wanted to be famous. This was step one.

It was the third time he had to give his report that the Emissary realized something was apparently very wrong. “.. and then I wrapped the lamppost around the fellow so that he could be restrained until you arrived.†For a third time he nodded back towards the unconscious, misshapen behemoth. The Emissary’s prone foe was propped up against the front of a bank that had undergone a way more literal smash and grab than usual. It was some new thug calling himself “Smash-orâ€Â. The Emissary felt his sincere in-fight asking about “smash, or what?†and follow up suggestion to go with ‘Smasher’ to avoid confusion was just being nice. It certainly didn’t deserve the stream of profanity he was given in reply. It was a clash that ended quickly all the same, repeatedly explaining all this to the police was actually taking longer. Like the first two times, they nodded blankly, and he sighed. “Is there something specific I have not provided? If so, you need but tell me, and I will do my best to accommodate. Please.†One officer coughed. Another scratched the back of their head. A third looked away. “Well… ah…†“Yes?†“… uhm… what’s with the hat?†Secured by a thin elastic under his chin, the Emissary was wearing a brightly multicoloured party hat. He blinked. “The.. oh! The hat. Well, it /is/ my birthday.†The Emissary’s tone had that sort of matter of fact tone that assumed he had now perfectly explained everything. The still confused stares begged to disagree. So he frowned slightly and continued. “My birthday? A day in which being otherwise extremely busy for most of it, I thought it would be fun to make some gesture towards celebration and glee all the same?†“Oh, well, uh.. Happy Birthday?†The Emissary managed to smile cheerfully through a faint exasperation he was now feeling. “Thank you very much officers.†He took aloft at that, his usual silvery blue streak through the skies having a bit of a red, pink and orange touch to it. The baffled reactions continued throughout the day, through patrols, paperwork, training sessions and meetings. The lowest point for the Emissary was definitely the small child. Who after being pulled away from an oncoming car and asking the same question everyone else did, offered a scrunched up face and accompanying comment of “that’s weird Mister Emissary. You’re being weird.†The Emissary was grumbling just a little by the end of the day. His hat was actually in hand as he made his way into his office, and he began to understand that expression that much more. He pulled out one of his favourite books from the shelf and plunked down on the floor to sit back against it, losing himself in Never-Neverland. “I actually think it looks quite festive.†He looked over with surprise, and then a fast, bright smile to see the shimmering, projected image of Councillor Sarlyn, his father. “I know! There were several others in the store, but that one seemed the most celebratory of them all.†Cheered, he put the hat back on as Sarlyn moved to “sit†down beside him. “So.. another year older, and another year of The Emissary Project besides. Quite the accomplishment my son, there were those in the council who felt it could not possibly last this long. You should be very proud.†The Emissary did beam at such praise, but then titled his head. “I am actually hoping to submit a request to get the name of this initiative changed. With my research into popular culture, it apparently makes me sound like some kind of British progressive rock band.†Sarlyn laughed at that, shaking his head. The Emissary just smiled. “I believe, if we are speaking of the customs of this world, there are several others we should attend to on this day.†Sarlyn gestured, and a small tray appeared before the Emissary with a flash, on it a brightly wrapped package, and a chocolate cupcake with a single lit candle in it. The Emissary held it up with a grin mirrored by that of his father. “So this entitles me to a birthday wish, does it?†Sarlyn nodded, and the Emissary furrowed his brow in thought, before carefully blowing out the flame. “What did you wish for?†“By my understanding, if I say, it does not come true.†“Ahh.. an intriguing mystery then.†They sat and pondered this solemnly for a moment before the Emissary buckled. “A pony for a young girl in the Make a Wish program. She very much wants one. Having told you, I am already scheduling appointments in my mind to encourage the fundraising to get it to her anyway.†Sarlyn chuckled. “A self fulfilling wish eh? And not even one for yourself? Perhaps for our people to accept as one the goals and philosophies behind The Emissary.. Experiment, and your very birth?†The Emissary shook his head. “I may as well have wished for world peace then. And as it true for either, I would want them to be something earned, something claimed and held to tightly so that it is naturally a part of those who have so accepted. Something they have grown into, something they have chosen. Every birthday I celebrate in this wider world is an affirmation of that one day hope. That each year I am here, I am doing my part to inspire the better part of people that only needs a helpful nudge to come to the surface. My creation.. my birth, was an act of hope. That the best of us could be used to make all societies as one. That the Utopians could stay on this earth and that humanity could become their equal partner. That there is a goodness to this planet, a quality, and that I can help everyone come to share in it. I am.. honoured by that.. I celebrate, revel in that, and I hold it as my personal challenge to meet. Doing it all in some cheap, dazzling magic flash would be like saying that collective hope was not good enough on its own. And I would never want to say such a thing. What worth could there be in any of us if I did? Why would we deserve our goals if I said or believed such a thing about the best part of us, and its power?†Sarlyn nodded with a proud approval. “Open your gift my son.†Carefully unwrapping the bright paper (he was going to save it), the Emissary found to his delight, a complete recorded run of Fox Kids’ Peter Pan and the Pirates, and a gaudily coloured noisemaker. He looked to his father happily, and noted Sarlyn was already hefting a similar noisemaker to his lips. “Happy Birthday Emissary.†They sounded out a commemoration of his creation together.