Habitat, Habilitation, Humanity ((open))

[Dr1v35haft]

"Dad," he said quietly, picking up his father's pale hand in his metal one. He'd taken a trick from the doctors, seeing how they warmed up stethescopes before using them on people, and stuck his hands in his armpits until they were warm. "Dad, you awake?"

"Sure 'nuff I'm awake, Bill. Help me move this doohicky upright."

Billy fumbled for the bed remote and handed it to his father. The bed arced up, taking his father with it, sitting him up.

"Y'look like your about to ask someone t'kick you in the nuts, Bill."

"Thanks, Dad. There're some people here to see you."

"People? What kinda people? The damn doctor? Tell her t'give me back my damn cigarettes and I'll see her."

"No, Dad, they're friends of mine. Friends from school."

"From school?" Ted McGuffin gave his son the hawkeye. He used to think, when he was younger, that that look could get right under his skull and see the thoughts ticking through his mind. Ted's moustache twitched. "All right then, Billy. Although I don't rightly know what they'd like with an old fart like me. C'n watch me use the bedpan and have trouble liftin' my own arm. But okay. Bring 'em on in."

Billy stepped into the doorway and beckoned them in.

They were many, many of them. Bryan and Sam had told a few, who had told a few. They gathered around the bed in a crowd. Nennya was near the front, carrying a rolled-up poster. She came forward and kissed Ted's cheek. "I'm so glad you're okay, Mr. McGuffin." Ted fumbled with the edges of the poster, and Nennya unrolled it for him. It was a large-as-life Varger girl, clothes so tight they looked painted on. Ted gave a low whistle. "That'll help keep my bones warm at night, in the garage. Thank you, Nannie."

Sam came forward with a bundle of balloons. "They're not flowers, but the gift shop said they'd be better for you. And they're pretty, I think. I'm Samantha. I'm a friend of Billy's."

"Thank you, Samantha. They're real nice."

"I'm Bryan. I'm a friend of your son's. I'm glad you're on the mend."

"I'm Violet."

"I'm Jack."

"Gabriel."

"John."

More and more. Those without anything brought their hands, touching him, giving their association with his son. Ted's eyes got glassy. Father Pat pressed forward in his clerical black, cutting through the crowd. "Your son is a hero," he said, softly, bending over the bed, giving this information for Ted's ears alone. "His quick thinking saved your life, and the lives of almost twenty others. When you're able to come, there will be a special celebration for him, and for the other young people who gave help when it was most needed."

Ted gripped the priest's hand with all his strength.

"Shall we pray?" Father Pat asked, standing upright, addressing the throng. Those inclined bowed their heads.

"Omnipotent and eternal God,
the everlasting Salvation of those who believe,
hear us on behalf of Thy sick servant, Theodore William McGuffin,
for whom we beg the aid of Thy pitying mercy,
that, with his bodily health restored,
he may give thanks to Thee in Thy church.
Through Christ our Lord.

Amen."

"Amen" echoed the little group.

A chime echoed in the hallways, giving notice that visiting hours were almost over. The group broke up, slowly, trading rumors as they went.

"I heard their house was completely destroyed."

"Kidding me, right? Did a bomb fall on them?"

"Right in the backyard. Didn't you see the dressings on his arms? Half of it exploded, the other half fell down ten minutes later."

"Did they get anything out?"

"No, they've got nothing, just nothing."

"There must be a lot of people in Paragon without a place to live right now."

"D'ya think we can do anything to help? Not just one of them ... all of them?"

[Kelly Green]

FROM THE PARAGON TIMES


Local philanthropist starts “Adopt a Neighborhood” program.
ATLAS PARK. City officials confirm an anonymous donor has contributed one million dollars to start “The Adopt a Neighborhood” program here in Paragon City. The program’s intent is to organize volunteer labor and donated funds to maximize the cities recovery efforts. “The money was donated by one of Paragon’s younger hero’s who wishes to remain anonymous.” Said a city official, “They said that they knew that in addition to hours of labor it would also take money to rebuild the city. Corporations have the ability to rebuild on there own this effort is geared specifically toward residences.” All money moneys donated will go toward administrating the program and funding the rebuilding. It should be noted that administrative cost will be kept to a minimum and the organization will be completely non-profit. “Our only paid employees will be those employed to do administrative work, and whenever possible the people hired to these positions will be homeless displaced workers who have lost both their home and place of work. The program is called Adopt a Neighborhood because you can if you wish direct your donation to sponsor a specific neighborhood, or you can just contribute to the general fund. Please if you have the means now is the time to give, and remember even if you donate funds your time and labor is also still welcomed. The Rikti still fight to destroy us, what better way to defeat them morally then to rebuild what they have destroyed even before they are driven completely from our home? Fight back… every dollar, ever shovel full of dirt, and every nail replaced sends a powerful message to not only your fellow man, but to our enemy as well.” City officials quoted the hero. It should also be noted that in addition to the start up funds our hero donated an additional undisclosed sum to the rebuilding efforts in Talos Island…

(The article goes on in more detail as such things do)

[Gravwarp]

Bryan stood looking up into the blue cloudless sky of that summer afternoon. The sounds of laughing and talking were easily heard over the dull sound of masonry clanging against metal. The young man, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his hand covered by a rough leather work glove.

He wiped the sweat from his dirt stained brow and went back to work with the others. Bryan reached down and picked up a hunk of broken concrete and he hefted it into an awaiting wheelbarrow.

The lot where he and the mass of other volunteers were working had only a week ago been a building of low income city housing, it would be again. Most of the former tenants were here on the ground now helping remove the blasted debris. These people had gathered to start rebuilding.

Something strange was happening here though. As the orange vested volunteers and the old tenants were digging through this rubble; they were laughing with one another. They were enjoying being here, and working together.

Good jokes were told and were repaid in eager laughs. Even, bad jokes were welcomed, repaid in good natured jeering and giggle-laden boos. A pair of young women stood next to one another, sorting reusable bricks from the shards being hauled away; as they worked they spoke of the weather and of their children.

Bryan heaved a heavy block into a waiting container. He smiled as he looked around him. His body ached now from the work, but this was so different from the weariness that had settled upon his mind. The burning in his back and forearms seemed to fade out that bleak state of mind. It was happening not just in him but in all those here.

There were no capes, no danger, no heroics. Just people. People coming together. Helping each other.

Bryan brushed at his eyes, wiping away a tear that threatened to roll down his face. The older latin gentleman laid his hand warmly on the boy's shoulder. "Are you alright son?"

"Just fine. I think I've got something in my eye is all." Bryan replied as he smiled up to the man's kind face. "I think, I got it" He said and he returned to his work.

[Li-Mei]

She wore a pale green sundress. Quite a change from her normal long-coat and leather. With the heat of the day, she was glad for the change of wardrobe. She didn't even mind the appreciative stares of the men around her. Besides, if looking at her brought a smile to the lips of these honest, hardworking people, she didn't mind being stared at for one afternoon.

She took a moment just to watch, and a warm feeling came over her. It was wonderful to see a community pull together like this. Everyone doing thier part to bring life back to thier precious neighborhood. Sure it was one of the poorer sections of town, but to them it was home.

Her eyes settled on an older man. He was rubbing his shoulder, looking weary in the summer heat. A smile came to her lips as she reminded herself of what she had come here to do. She wasn't coordinated enough to hammer nails, nor strong enough to help with the lifting. All she knew how to do, was care.

She made her way over to him, lugging a small cooler with her.

"Hello sir! Need something to drink? Sure is hot out today."

The old man smiled gratefully as her took the bottle she was offering to him. "That it is, young lady, that it is."

"Shoulder bothering you? Let me have a look", she said. She focused her sight to see beyond what normal people see. It wasn't long before she spotted the source of his discomfort. Pressing two fingers two her lips, she channeled her power into them and they began to glow. Gently she placed them to the man's injury and repaired the damaged muscle tissue. While she was at it, she decided to give his metabolism a little boost as well.

His eyes grew wide as he flexed his freshly mended arm. "Why I'll be, you really are an Angel! Thank you lass, I feel much better now."

Her cheeks fushed slightly from the compliment. That was what the men had taken to calling her, their 'Atomic Angel'. She kind of liked the sound of it.

"Hey Lei! We could use something to drink over here!" She turned her head to the familiar voice of one of her class mates. Grabbing up her cooler, she waved goodbye to the old man as she made her way over to where her friend were hard at work.

[Cryogene]

She didn't have nearly the strength -- or the powers, she noted, as Bryan walked by subtly levitating rubble -- to do the heavy lifting. She had no expertise in construction. She didn't have the charisma to direct the others. She had skipped the first day entirely, figuring she was useless to the cause, until someone had made a suggestion...

It was summer, the sun beat down, the volunteers worked hard. And none of them sweated a drop. Air conditioning had nothing on the quiet pale girl in their midst.

[Karakuriya]

The day wore on, the work endless. Even though the sun had passed its zenith, the full hotness of the day was still approaching. Spirits remained high, hopeful, even in the worst of summer and the devastation that lay around then; but, as they inevitably began to flag in the oppressive heat, another figure approached the site with purpose.

A girl in pale linen, wilted by the humidity, towing a red wagon resolved through the mirage. Aeon tucked her hair behind her ears and pulled the wagon laden with a crockpot and stacks of covered trays into a bank of gravel beneath a still standing shade tree to anchor it there.

"Sorry I'm a bit late. I had to wait for my turn in the kitchen. Um, Lei, give me a hand?"

She unstacked the tower of trays, laying out large portions of crisp and tangy bean sprout salad, savory marinated bok choy, soft tofu crumbled in a spicy red sauce, crunchy pork croquettes with curry, skewered strips of grilled chicken, and stir fried beef and mixed vegetables in a thick gravy.

From the crock pot they scooped steamy white rice into plastic bowls, satisfying despite the heat, and together they gathered on the gravel in the shade, an impromptu family, strengthening their bodies and spirits for the work still to be done.

[Alice]

As they worked on the roofs and rafters she ferried nails and hammers and boards and beams up and across. The gentle wind made by her wings blended in the breeze as she worked. She would smile and wave to everyone singing cheerfully. Holding up braces and handing out tools Alice ran errands at the speed of sound giggling merrily. More then once she would fly head long into a ceiling beam or back into wet paint but she would just laugh and apologies and hurry back to her task. She flitted from one person to the next handing out tools or nails and screws. She couldn’t do any of the building or lift the debris like the others but she could carry tools and other supplies from one worker to the next with amazing speed. No need wonder where their tool was, as she would have it waiting in hand with a smile and wave. Alice wasn’t the best worker but she was the happiest and loudest!

[Dr1v35haft]

Billy had finished up with the bricks. It was hard work, time consuming, but ... ultimately worthwhile. Salvagable wood, bricks, cinderblocks and other building materials went in the recycle pile; things shattered past repair went into the demolition bin.

There were other things, too, that they came across in the project; photographs, papers, personal items. These went into a series of plastic bins, labeled in sharpie for place of discovery. His own home was less than ten blocks from here, but Billy had chosen not to work on the recovery site there. He didn't want to do work there. Maybe it was a personal weakness, but the thought of seeing his childhood home pared down to its component pieces was just a little too much to cope with.

He trundled with the wheelbarrow of salvage, set it down, and lit up a cigarette. True, he ought to quit. And he wouldn't smoke around Dad, or let Dad catch the smell on his clothes. But right now he wanted one, or he was going to pitch a fit.

He stared up at the sky. Beautiful day. Just beautiful. A line of new houses was going up, built off of the original city plans. He looked up at the men and women working the skeleton.

The light changed. Slowly. He didn't even have time to be angry.

All that work. All for nothing. He tossed his cigarette over his shoulder and ran to where the construction foreman stood, orange vest like a beacon. "Tell everyone to take shelter!" he yelled. "Rikti! Rikti!"

The sirens began a split-second later.

Billy looked around, trying to spot his schoolmates. And he felt stupid, suddenly, pulling his comm unit out of his breast pocket, pulling up all channels at once.

"This is Dr1v35haft. Rikti attack on Talos Island. Those here, defend the construction site! Report in. Lemme hear you, Flyers."

[Renn Haven]

Renn had been retrieving belongings from among the piles of rubble. It was really all she could do. She wasn't strong like some people, or with special talents like others. So she was kneeling in the rubble, in thick gloves and a wide brimmed hat, carefully boxing up what few belongings had survived the bombings.

The air on her back crew colder and the harsh sunlight dimmed. She looked up to see the gathering storm clouds just as Billy's shout for help blared across the com system.

She looked down at the small rag doll in her hands, and carefully tucked it into a gap in the wall of a nearby building.

"Stay safe here, okay? I'm sure there's a little girl who really needs to see you again," she whispered to the doll. She pulled off her gloves and tossed them and the hat on the ground, and toggled on her mike.

"Nightwatch here, ready to fight."

This, at least, she could do.

[Alice]

It was a long day. So much damage had been done and this was just the tip of the iceberg. Alice hefted a box labled "Clothing" onto a table to be carted off and cleaned. "Woohoo! Another box!" she did a little dance before she ran to grab another.

Suddenly the sky grew dark...and there was a loud siren. "Hurry! Get these people to the shelters!" yelled a PPD officer at the edge of the construction site.

Her comm clicked to life in her pocket "This is Dr1v35haft. Rikti attack on Talos Island. Those here, defend the construction site! Report in. Lemme hear you, Flyers."

Alice clicked a button on her button and her fighting suit shimmered on over her. "This Is Al-erm...Pandemonium? calling in! Lets go, go, go!! *giggles*"

[Tornado]

Mike swore softly as the call went out over the comm. He'd been clearing out the debris. He wasn't super-strong or anything, but he was able to carry small stuff. And if you gave him the right tools...eventually the big stuff became small stuff. He was getting quite an education in small-scale demolition.

And now this. The large-scale demolition team was back, but it wasn't looking to help out with surgical strikes. Mike stopped in the remains of the shattered house where he'd been working, and something caught his eye.

A small picture frame had been uncovered by his tireless hands, and the shards of glass glinting in the sun had caught his attention. He gingerly picked the photo out of the frame. It was a black-and-white picture of two people standing on a dock, amidst thousands of others. Most of the men were in uniform, like the one who was the focus of the picture.

He was holding a woman and staring down at her, smiling so wide that you could see his back teeth, and leaking tears from the corners of his eyes. She had her head buried in his chest and was hanging on to him like she would never let him go. His big hand was holding the back of her head, his other arm around her shoulders. Dozens of similar scenes were visible in the background.

Mike turned the photo over. "Kevin and Daisy, 1945." The script was brown and faded, but still as clear as the day it had been written.

He gently tucked the picture inside his shirt, treating it like the priceless relicc that it was. Hope, that's what he'd found in that frame. A reminder that sometimes, it took good people to fight a war that seemed hopeless, a war that no one wanted.

He clicked his comm and said, "This is Tornado Force. I'm on my way." He pumped his arm into the air and whispered, "For Shelly." Then he was gone.

[Dr1v35haft]

Billy Theodore McGuffin turned the two keys in the lock and opened the door to his new home.

He backed up a step, letting his father go in first.

He wasn't sure he wanted to go in. This new house, part of a row of townhouses reconstructed from the rubble, was only a few blocks south of his old home, but it might have well have been on Mars. The fresh, cheerful, empty faces of the new buildings were like a crowd of eerily similar, blank faces. There were poison-green sods laid out in the small space between each stairwell, bizarre as astroturf.

"You comin' Billy?" his dad's voice echoed from the vestibule.

"I'm gonna have a smoke and get the luggage," he said. "You go on, you can tell me where to go."

It didn't feel like home yet, and he didn't want it to. Going in would be the first step. He sighed, crushed his cigarette butt against the brickwork, tossed it to the pristine grass. He grabbed two suitcases, mostly full of clothes that had been donated to the family through the church, mostly his father's, and went in.

He looked on in amazement. Beyond the boot room, the living room. There was a fireplace, a luxury he hadn't ever dreamed of, and a brand-new sofa and loveseat pulled up in front of it. There were pictures on the mantle. He came closer, looking. They were framed pictures of himself, his father, in new frames. His mother's photo, the largest of these, beautiful, perfect. And a tiny bud vase with a flower growing in it, just like he remembered.

He felt the tears come up in his eyes and pushed them back, feeling his nose go cloggy.

There was new furniture, but so much of the old furniture had been saved. There was the kitchen table, legs repaired, resanded and refinished. There was the china hutch, glass replaced, four plates and three bowls of the wedding china, still intact. His silver mug with his initials, polished, intact.

"Dad?" he said, weakly. The suitcases bent him over, he put them down.

His father was stroking the kitchen curtains with one hand. The yellow cloth had been washed, mended, recut to fit the new window above the sink. "Y'r mother made these," he said. "I can't believe they're still here."

He took his father's hand and together they went upstairs. His father's bedroom, the old twin bed, still there, walls painted just the color they had been. The framed wedding photo on the dresser, the cross above the bed. The new rug was rich and soft under his booted feet. Down the hall, a new bathroom, tiled in white, pretty and clean as an advertisement. And his room ... well, not much had survived the bombing. It was empty, unlived-in-looking, but it was a nice shade of blue. A cross, mate to the one in his father's room, hung over his bed as well. Bookshelves built into the wall. A new desk. A computer. A new computer, Jesus and Mary, was this his?

One book in the bookshelf, its battered cover nearly falling away from the paper. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. He held it in one metal hand like it was the talisman of all things.

Downstairs, on the kitchen table, an envelope containing a note and and a thick stack of gift cards. Paragon City Books. Home Depot. Sears. His mind boggled over the zeros stacked against ones. "Dad?"

His father was looking at the note. "It's from the "Adopt a Neighborhood" program, Billy. They did all this, them and the people of Paragon City." The folded paper in his hands trembled.

"But why? I'm ... Dad, I'm such a fuckup. I'm an ex-con. Why would anyone do anything nice for us?"

His father looked at him. He gripped Billy's metal fingers with surprising strength. "Never let me hear you say that again, William. Don't you see? The moment you came out of that place and came back to me, don't you see that everything changed?"

"But the Rikti blew up our house! You had a heart attack! We've had to live on church charity for months, and Dad..." his voice trailed off, useless.

"Here's our new home, Billy. Here I am. Here you are. I think God's forgiven us both for anything we did wrong. Now you go get your stuff from school. I'll start lunch, and after that, we'll go to Mass."

Billy nodded. He walked around school that day like he'd been punched in the head. Which he sort of had been, truth be told.