I remember vividly, usually graphically, always have.  The first event I remember in life was my birth though few believe that.  That was not a pleasant experience or one I would choose to repeat, there have been others that were even less pleasant.  Right now, I sense everything about me, the air moving in and out of my lungs ever so slowly; my heart beating rhythmically; blood pulsing through my veins.  It is like this as I begin; soon it will all fade away as I move deeper into that other place I go.  I am not sure if that place is inside my own mind, or somewhere else.  I often find answers there to questions I did not even know to ask.  I see things that have not happened yet as though they have, and sometimes I re-live the past.  As I move into that tunnel into the darkness, the words of Jack Frost echo in my ears, “Who are you?” Perhaps that is where it should begin.

     The first time I visited that place, the circumstances were not as ideal as they are now.  I had been captured, isolated, and beaten, but we will get to that later.  The place had been an escape then, where I could not feel the sting of the whip or pressure of the vise.  I should have died, but I didn’t.  I wouldn’t.  They had bound me, gagged me, and kept a cloth bag over my head for I know not how long.  The only sounds I heard were chanting, laughing, and then I felt the pain.  I now know the intent of that time had been to punish someone else, and later, to channel my essence for their purpose, but that was not to be.

     That’s not where it all began, or where I started to become who I am now.  As I said, birth was the first event I remember, my vision was not the same then as it is now, but I had heard their voices before I was born, muffled by fluid, but there, constant and pleasing.  My mother had spoken most, as would be expected, but his voice was there most of the time.  Afterwards, recognizing that the voices belonged to those faces was joy, my first happy memories.  Early childhood was a wonder, learning how my body worked, my mind, and my talents.  Most things came naturally to me.  Eating, walking, and running but, some were different.  I remember my father staring into my eyes, asking why he couldn’t “hear” me… when I responded, he would say that’s not what he meant; later I would understand.

As a child, I must say I enjoyed being “gifted”, though I could not say that I had a normal childhood.  My parents struggled with discipline, but I think I learned from their examples.  They were good people and I wanted to be like them.  This “Halo” effect began to fade as I approached my teens.  I began to notice how much time other families spent together.  Primarily, I began to notice the absence of my Father.  I now know he was only doing what he did best.  He was after all a hero, but as I found I received his attention when I acted out, and I began to do so with frequency.  This led to a dark time in my life, and with that darkness my introduction to the occult.   

I had discovered a love of music, and as I turned to the type of artists that sang tales of abandonment and power, I began to hang out with a crowd that enjoyed the same type of music I did.  Most of them were older than me, but they had no problem welcoming someone with my special abilities, in fact I’d say they ended up following me most of the time.  I’d break into some abandoned warehouse, turn on the power. There was always a party wherever I was.  This led to experimenting with “social” drugs, and I developed a following that was happy to provide me with whatever pleasures I desired.  I would not say they worshiped me, after all, I was still in my early teens, but they carried out my bidding and provided my every desire.  But, I was becoming a large fish in a small bowl, and I knew there was more out there.  My “gang” began to attend raves, often taking over to perform impromptu concerts, complete with my own special effects show.  I didn’t realize I was using magic; I didn’t even know what magic was, but I caught the attention of some people who did, and they became very interested in me.

I was approached by some of these individuals, and they appeared very cool.  They dressed sharply, dark colors, lots of leather, and seemed to have an unending supply of cash and whatever else I wanted.  They were also able to do some pretty impressive things.  They explained that this was magic and that I was “gifted.”  They said they could teach me to do things I’d never dreamed of, and they were right.  Unfortunately, their offers came at a cost that I was unaware of until it was almost too late.

My father and his team showed up just as I was to be sacrificed to destroy the final bonds that held the Dark God banished from our realm.  My former mentors who had tortured and beaten me had tied me to an altar, and were trying to complete the ritual before they could be stopped.  I can still feel the dagger entering just below my ribcage, as my fathers blade magically sprouted from the center off the evil priest’s chest.  I lost consciousness, and to this day, I’m not sure what exactly happened that day.  I know now that the dark god was stopped, and that his followers were scattered.  My father and his friends were able to shore up the bonds that kept the Dark God from our realm.  I returned home to recover and regain my strength.

My life was quite different after these experiences.  I decided to live a normal life, away from the excitement of heroes and villains.  I returned to my parent’s home, and completed high school, graduating with honors.  My father pulled some strings and got me into a great school, I graduated in three years, and went directly into a doctoral program, studying Psychology, Sociology, and Linguistics.  I had several articles published and was soon a popular speaker on the lecture circuit. I settled into a life of normal celebrity.  My private studies have been more about my mystic origins, and those of other religions and the occult.  My father provided an impressive library with exhaustive resources.  He’s told me that most of the books belonged to my grandfather.  My relationship with my father who has now retired and my mother had continued to improve.

Two years ago, my father disappeared.  He had received some kind of message and left telling my mother he would be back soon; but never returned.  I have contacted several of his friends, and they have been unable to find any trace of him, through means mystic, psychic, or mundane.  I have to find him.  I’ve continued my studies in an effort to see if there is some link between his past and his disappearance, but it looks like it is my turn to go into the family business.  I recently had a uniform created that will I hope allow me to maintain my identity, but also allow me to take my place as a protector of this realm, at the same time searching openly for clues regarding my fathers disappearance. 

Slowly I again become aware of my surroundings, the air moving again in and out of my lungs, aware of my position, floating about six inches off the ground in my Empire City study.  I quickly run through the days events, coming totally to.  I don’t know if the explosions earlier in the day have anything to do with my father’s disappearance, but I need to determine who is behind them.  I have a feeling there was more to this than just terrorism.  I feel a strong bond to some of the individuals I’ve met this day, and feel we have a purpose, that we will become a team as my father was in a team before me.  “Who am I?” I will be a protector of this realm, I have become Power Chord.

SWEET! Awesome writing Hammer!  I didn't want to interrupt the flow with a post! Great STUFF! Can't wait to read more!

Near midnight, close to the ECU campus, lightning flashed momentarily lighting the exterior of the early nineteenth century brownstone as large rain drops begins to fall.  There were no lights to be seen through the windows of the first two floors.  Something flickers like candle light through the upper floor window, but maybe a little too bright for candles showing through the fluttering curtains.

Inside the room a maelstrom rushes about the room, books and objects float in apparent chaos, but at the eye of the storm, a man floats in the lotus position.  Before him a dagger spins end over end.

Power Chord’s brow is dotted with perspiration; this is not the passive meditation he has become used to as of late.  Something is wrong…  The candles at the points of the pentagram again flare, as if something is coming against the wards.  His eyes do not open, and the murmur from his lips does not stop.  There must be something there, some relationship…

Power Chord’s mind returns to the prophecy he had intoned what seemed like an eternity ago.

“I see a dark time for this world, A King returns, and the dead walk again. Those that live on the blood of innocence, and cannot survive long the light of the day.”

“Evil from many sources focused on this world, but we shall stand against them, and they shall break like waves on the shore.”

Where these the things that interrupted his sleep? Was the dagger the key, or just a key?

As he slowly opened his eyes, the maelstrom subsided, and the candles returned to their normal brilliance.  Books that were floating around the room closed themselves, and floated back to their bookshelves, as Power Chord slowly lowered until he was touching the ground.   He glanced around verifying everything appeared to be in place, when his eyes widened. 

The dagger still spun.  He had withdrawn his power, commanding it to return to the case across the room, but it remained.  The dagger suddenly lurched, and flew across the room, thunking solidly into an ancient wooden chest of drawers… Curiously, Power Chord wove a spell to detect any magical creatures or spells remaining, and verified he knew every one before he approached the dagger.   He opened the drawer, and withdrew its sole content, a pouch containing an amulet he had forgotten about.  He pondered the amulet, and grasped the dagger by the hilt.  It appeared nothing more than an ancient artifact, he could detect powerful magics within it, but it sat lifeless on his palm.  He returned it to the case he had specially made for it, and closed the silver lined glass lid.

Dirk turned and headed for a shower.   Tomorrow he would contact the team; it was time for them to investigate Jonesville…

Here is actually a much older post, but it includes some of Power Chord's more mundane issues that I thought might be interesting:

Hot water streamed over Dirk’s face, washing away the unease he had felt the last few days.  He felt his tense muscles relax as he listened to the classical music being piped throughout the house.  His meditation this morning had again been interrupted by visions of people he had never seen before, and the feeling that his fate was somehow entwined with theirs.  The visions have become more frequent lately, which usually indicated the events he had seen would come to pass soon. 

     As he stepped out of the shower, warm dry air quickly evaporated the water from his body.  He wondered idly if the house keeper ever wondered why there were never any wet towels in the bathroom.  He looked into the mirror and was a little surprised to see the man staring back at him looking remarkably like his father.  It seemed only yesterday Dirk had been living on the streets.  His finger traced the scar on his chest, slightly below his rib cage where the villain’s dagger had pierced his side.  He shuddered to think what might have happened if his father hadn’t showed up.  Of course he wouldn’t be standing here now, but what would it have meant to the world at large. 

How many times had his father saved the world?   Of course they had known his father; dignitaries from every continent had come to meet him.  People were always showing up asking if his father would save them from some oppressor or to guard some treasure, or protect them from some evil.  But where were they now?  His father had disappeared almost two years ago, leaving no trace, and not one of his so called friends had been able to find a trace of what had happened to him, or where he might have gone, Dirk thought bitterly.  He would find out what had happened he again vowed, and until he came back, Dirk would do his best to ensure nothing happened to the world he loved. 

No sooner had those thoughts crossed his mind than the music playing in the background was interrupted with a special news cast.  It seemed there was something going on at the Citizens Bank and Trust.  Explosions had been heard, and smoke was seen coming from the building.  Dirk ran to his closet and pulled out the uniform he had recently completed.  It was similar to his fathers, but distinct enough that people should be able to tell he was not the same man.  He quickly pulled on the uniform, fastened his cape, and opened the door to the balcony. 

As he began to close the door, he remembered he was supposed to have lunch with his mother.  His cell phone flew to his hand from the charger on his bedside.  As he launched himself from the balcony, he dialed Amanda and told her to cover his classes for the day and to contact his mother and let her know he wouldn’t be joining her for lunch.  Mundane life taken care of, he began to focus on the task at hand, and the smoke in the distance growing closer by the minute.

Dirk stared out the window of his ECU office.  He’d just had a meeting with his Graduate students.  He was really impressed with this year’s staff.  They’d picked up his classes when he needed them to, and done a fine job keeping the classes on track when The Protectors had been out of pocket looking into the Jonesville Incident.
 
He smiled at the thought of the team, as he saw Mac across the greens, doing what Mac was always doing… tinkering with something.  This time it was one of those riding lawn mowers you stand up on.  Probably converting it to a hover craft that could mow the lawn with lasers, he thought.  Dirk had talked to Mac in passing a few times, but he had always respected Dirks desire to keep his secret identity just that.  Mac never talked much, even when they were alone, seeming more comfortable with his tools than with people, but Power Chord always kept the communicator Mac had made them close by.

Turning from the window, “What a hypocrite I am,” he thought, I have no friends other than the Protectors, the other professors think I’m stuck up and aloof, which suits me fine.  Sitting down in his high backed leather chair, looking at the stack of papers on his over sized mahogany desk, he sighed.  Saving the world is so much more exciting than this.  With a flick of his wrist, there was a heavy “click” as his office door locked.  Raising his hands flat, palms outward, the papers on his desk began to rise, sorting themselves into ordered queues.  He fanned them like a deck of cards, and one paper slowly rose from the deck.  “Not a good idea Mr. Anderson,” he said, “Cheating in my class?” It had been easy enough to write the spells to detect cheating; it was not so much finding how they had cheated as detecting the student’s intent to deceive.

“Well, you have my attention now.” He smiled.  This part would be fun, exposing forgery to the class.  He’d never had to do it more than once per semester, but there was always one.  Someone who thought there was no way he could read the copious amount of work he dished out in his classes, and they were right, but he would read this one, and his graduate students would read the rest.

Glancing at the computer on the desk, it hummed to life, the deck of papers settling to an organized stack.  Dirk again twisted his wrist, and the “click” of the door responded.  He pushed the intercom button on his phone.  “Amanda, could you come in for a minute?” He smiled, Amanda had been with him since he started at the college, back then, she was the department assistant, but as he’d risen to a tenured professor, she had been the one person he could count on.  She knew all his secrets, some she figured out, others he’d confessed, but the one person he could always count on.  “On my way,” she responded.

As she came in, he could tell she’d been putting in a lot of hours, probably covering for him.  “When’s the last time you took any time off?” He asked.  She looked genuinely surprised, “well I don’t know.  I’ve been trying to keep your schedule clear as much as possible and that takes some juggling,” she said with a smile.  Not a complaint, a true statement.  He sighed, “I guess we’ve both been burning the candle at both ends,” he said folding his long fingered hands in front of his face.
 
“I think we need a break.  If you could take that stack of papers to the Grad’s, I’m sure they’ll be happy to dig into them.  Mr. Anderson’s paper will stay with me.”  She smiled a knowing smile.  “Then take the rest of the week off.”  Her smile froze on her lips, “but,” she said.  He held up a finger, “There is nothing that we can’t take care of next week.  This place will survive without you for a couple of days.  As a matter of fact, why don’t you go to that spa downtown, the one on the brochure on your desk,” he smiled. 

“Well, I just couldn’t,” she began.  “Nonsense, go and enjoy.  I promise to get a temp from the pool to help out until you get back.  I’ve got several undergrads begging for “extra credit,” I’m sure it’s not what they mean, but they’ll do in a pinch.  “I’d have to make a list, prepare a schedule…” she trailed off as she saw the look on his face.  “Well, Okay, but you could use some time off to.” She said, as she picked up the stack of papers and turned to leave.   “Soon he murmured, soon,” turning back to his computer.

Looking over the list of emails, only one really jumped out at him, it was from his mother.   It seemed forever ago he had cancelled a dinner with her, and it was time to make it up to her.    He picked up his cell, and placed a call to Elmo’s.  He was sure they’d have a table for him, if not, there was always Diamantes.  As he turned off the light, he snapped his fingers, and the computer’s hard drive whirred as it slowed to a stop.  He gently closed the door behind him and headed out with a light step, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from him, patting the small metal box in his pocket.

Thanks, common ground for everyone.  I love the freebies!