Anthony Ward stretched, and hauled himself out of bed. It had been more than two months since he had been badly hurt while fighting the Undead alongside the rest of legion, but his shoulder still ached on occasion when he hadn’t stretched enough. Right now, for example, it twinged a bit as he reached down and pulled his trousers up. However, he was in his thirties, and not a young man, like he was back when he was an active-duty Marine.

	A yawn fought its way clear of Anthony’s mouth, and he began to do his morning stretches. It helped keep him limber, and it also prepared him for his morning workout. Several joints popped during this routine, with a peculiar combination of mild pain and pleasurable release as they did. Leaning over as far as he could, his palms touching the floor, he held himself there, remembering times past as the blood slowly drifted towards his head.

	Throughout most of his life, Anthony had been a fighter. When he was a child, his father had been stationed in Korea, a place the young man would return to during his own tour of duty. While there, he had met Suahm Dosa(1), a wizened monk of nearly ninety years old, yet still vibrant in the flush of life. The old man had seen a spark in him, and had begun to teach him both the Korean language, and the legacy of her oldest warriors, the fighting style called Hwarang Do. It relied on extremely powerful attacks as well as speed, and only two others studied the style alongside him - two slightly older students, named Joo Bang Lee and Joo Sang Lee. It had been many years since he had heard from them, and he wondered how they were doing.

	In the early 1950’s, it was Anthony’s turn to serve his nation, once more returning to Korea. There, his command of the language and his exceptional physical condition qualified him for USMC Recon, and he saw battle countless times. As he leaned backwards, his arms over his head, he wondered idly if any of the other members of Legion had ever taken the life of another human being. For their sakes, he hoped not; the ghosts of the men he had killed in battle would haunt him for the rest of his life. In his mind, he glossed over those years, concentrating on the few good things that happened back then. The pride he felt when Chesty Puller ordered them into ranks to march the last mile back from the Cho-Zen reservoir echoed inside him, as did the laughter after remembering a particular prank played by one of his comrades on a new lieutenant. But the rest of the war years he decided not to dwell on.

	His stretches over, he began his warm-up exercises. He had been doing them every day since he studied under Suahm Dosa, and they prepared him for his morning workout even better than a good old fashioned USMC workout could. He thought about the times he had on his return home, when he found out that his girlfriend had left him for his best friend. Almost a cliché, it still hurt to think about. He worked for a while as a bouncer, and still later as a dock worker. Eventually, though, he migrated to Mountainrock, where everything changed.

	At first, he simply worked at a warehouse, tossing crates and boxes. He remembered how his right knee used to pop painfully now and then, until he redoubled his morning routine. Then, shortly after discovering his relatively useless ‘power’, he was laid off. The company was going under, and had to reduce the number of employees in order to stay afloat. So, adrift without a job, and unable to pay rent, he had wandered in to the Mendolsson Memorial Hostel for Displaced Metahumans, and into a life he had never expected.

	He had met Rachel there. The young lady was incredibly beautiful, and, like him, had a ‘super power’ that was useless for anything but a social situation. She could change the color of her fingernails, while her eyes shifted to matching or complimentary shades. At first, she had simply teased him about his obvious attraction for her, but he eventually wore down her reluctance. A week after their first date, the security team had been given costumes by Allison, another resident. His own costume was based loosely on the USMC Dress blues. He still laughed when he remembered the almost hungry look in Rache’s eyes when she first saw him in it.

	Finishing his warmups, he hopped over his bed, and trotted downstairs to begin his ten mile run. As he passed the reception desk, he noted it was still a mite too early for Rache to be on duty. However, she would be there, waiting to greet him when he returned. He had recently picked u a stopwatch to time his run, and he idly clicked it as he stepped out the door, and sped his pace to a sustainable moderate run.

	Forty-eight minutes and thirty-six seconds later, he found himself back at the front door. “Huff, huff, just under, *pant*, a five minute pace...” he muttered, and begun walking in circles to cool down without cramping up. After a few minutes of this, he opened the door, and walked in.

	A towel hit him in the face as he did so. “You have exactly one hour to clean yourself up and be ready to go, mister.” He pulled the towel from his head, and looked at Rachel, who had a mock scowl on her face uncomprehendingly. “We’re going to the library today, remember?”

	He smacked his forehead with his palm. “Oh, yeah, I forgot!” He jogged up the foyer stairs to the second floor balcony. “I’ll do short Forms before getting in the shower, throw on my clothes, and we’ll go, okay?”

	“As long as you’re ready in an hour,” she said, grinning despite herself. She then caught herself watching him walk away from her vantage point below him, and chided herself for being unladylike.

*************************************

	Michael Mendolsson peered in the barely open door of the gymnasium, and watched Anthony do... well, whatever it was he was doing. To Michael, it looked like some sort of dance, but parts of it were very fast, and parts were very slow. Shaking his head, he closed the door as quietly as he could, and continued on down the hall.

	No matter how much he begged, his brother John refused to tell him what had happened in the past few months. Michael was beginning to think he had been asleep, and that’s why so much time had gone by, and so many new people were here at the Hostel. Some of them kinda looked at him funny, though, so he avoided them. The idea that he was asleep made sense to him, because he kept remembering such awful dreams.

	In these dreams, he wore black armor like a knight, and carried a black sword that moaned and howled. People died and kept walking around, and a whole lot of soldiers saluted him. He remembered blood in his dreams, his brother’s blood, and maybe the blood of a lot more people. He didn’t know, because he didn’t want to know.

	Reaching his brother’s door, he knocked gently. “Come in,” came the voice from the other side. Smiling, he opened the door, and stepped in, ready to find out what work John had for him today.

	“Well, John? What can I do?”

	John Mendolsson looked at his brother, his pinkish-red eyes crinkling with a suppressed smile. “Always eager, eh?” he rubbed his still slightly sore shoulder, and pondered. “Well, you finished up helping me put in the last window yesterday... there’s not really anything left for us to fix up around here, now.”

	Mike looked heartbroken. “Then what are we gonna do today?” he asked, his childlike eagerness quickly replaced by sorrow.

	“Tell you what. You and I can go with Brian, Calvin, and Gary to the movies, this afternoon. Does that sound like a plan?” asked the albino as he smiled.

	“Sure does! By the way... what’s that thing that Anthony’s doing in his room? Looks like he’s dancing.” Michael scratched his head. “But there wasn’t any music.”

	“Heh, well, I’ll explain it on the way. You go get ready.” 

*************************************

	Anthony finished toweling himself off after his shower, and got dressed for the library... then realized he wasn’t sure what some one would wear to the library. Shrugging, he simply put on a pair of trousers and a collared shirt, casual, yet still nice. He then glanced at the clock, and saw the time. “Jeez, I only have two minutes!” Hurriedly tossing on his shoes and socks, he raced downstairs where Rachel was waiting.

	“Just in time, leatherneck,” she chided. “I thought in the Marines, if you’re not fifteen minutes early, you’re late?”

	“Well, err, got lost in the forms... Sorry.” He very carefully took her hand, heart beating like a schoolboy’s. “Ready to go?”

	Before Rachel could answer, several other Hostel inhabitants, including the incredibly massive Brian and the feline Calvin, as well as John and Michael, came down the steps into the foyer. “Well, where’s this little brigade going?” asked Rachel.

	Michael grinned broadly. “To th’ movies!”

	She chuckled. “I take it you are taking the van Darkenwulf modified?” She nodded towards Brian, also known as Hauler. “With the reinforced suspension and extra horsepower... and the larger passenger area?”

	Brian chuckled. “Sortof. You see... he also enlarged and reinforced the driver’s seat and controls. I’m driving!”

	Jarhead turned to Rachel. “I think we’d better leave now, before that thing hits the road... He hasn’t driven in more than a year, and we don’t want to get caught in their accident.”

	Brian stomped forward, and faked a scowl. “Accident? I’ll give you an accident!” 

	“Well, lookitthatitstimetogoRachelcomeon!” blurted Anthony as he hustled a chuckling Rachel out the door.

	The others filed out of the hostel, and watched them drive off. Brian waved, then Calvin grabbed his arm. “Guys, something’s wrong... I can smell something, I dunno what!”

	John darted a look at him. “Residents, inside! Legion, get ready!”

	Before John could complete his orders, however, the car Anthony and Rachel were driving in exploded in a searing ball of white-hot flame, sending debris raining down on them. 

	“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

FOOTNOTES:

(1) Suham Dosa was a real-world martial artist, a monk who was among the last of the practitioners of Hwa Rang Do. In the 40’s, he took two students, Joo Bang Lee and Joo Sang Lee, who were later given permission to open schools, and spread the style through the world. I have taken the liberty of adding Anthony as a third, foreign student as well.