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Captain's Preface

I never thought I'd be doing another Spektral story. To be honest, we didn't even finish the ending to the previous one. But that'll be okay, because as the storyline progresses, I'll come up with some of what happened through Allen's memories.
There were some elements of the story that I thought were dumb, or just didn't make sense, mostly stuff relating to Allen. Stuff, that I look back now, and realize "What the heck was I thinking?" So, since this is a new storyline, I'm going to try some new approaches, and write out some old plots to explain why he can do some of the things that he's able to.
At first, when trying to come up with a suitable sequel to the previous stories, I realized that such an example would be almost impossible. Too many events occurred that to create another story, would place argument, after argument, after argument on the new story.
So my first approach was to create a Total Continuity Reboot. But then, that would be like saying that nothing in the first five stories ever happened.
So, I finally decided, to issue only a Partial Continuity Reboot with a Retcon. What this means is that I'm starting the series off with a fresh clean slate, with some of the better storyline's being part of the actual story and a Retroactive Continuity to help alter some of the held down facts in order to better grow the plot.

This new storyline will take the Spektral Series in a new direction. The Academy will not be referenced as much this time around. Maybe if it's by strong fan approval I'll do something about that, but to be honest, we could've only gone so far with it to begin with.
Some of the problems that made part of the original story so good will return this time around.

Oh yeah, this will be a Crossover Roleplay. Since most of the original players in this story went off to do better things (Some of them running their own story guilds, forums, storylines, etc.), and roleplayed in here as well, the general consensus is that most of the plot-lines are in the same general universe.

You don't have to roleplay the way that I do. Basically, each of the characters you choose will get a short, formal background introduction told from their point of view, what they're up to present day, and each will then be given a role of film through your choosing of how they get it. Your character will set it up, and as they watch it, will be drawn into the main storyline that way. I know, I sorta got the idea from the Chronicles of Narnia and the Dream Town Collectible Item, except that I'm putting my own spin on both, and that this isn't Narnia.

So, with that, I'm going to go press the big red RESET button, and bring you:

Raindrops. Falling so beautifully outside into the lily-pond lake. They have no life, no mind, no memory. Just atoms of water in an endless cycle of rivers and streams. Falling from a darkened sky. They always have, always will. Even if the world changes, the droplets of water only will change forms depending upon how cold or hot it is. Nothing more, nothing less.
A frog croaks outside, as it sits on the lily pad. I do not hear it. Only see it through my bay window. I watch a bolt of lightning as it strikes down a nearby tree branch, reducing the end that once was whole to nothing but negligent cinders. An impressive sight, but it's over as soon as it begins.
It has been like this all day. I turn away from the window to see my own lighted San Diego home. I look at the fancy 17th century clock on a table that doubles as a record player when there isn't linen or various fanciful ornaments on it.
The time is 12:43 p.m. in the afternoon.
And still the rain falls down.

My name is Allen Masterson. I guess that you could say that I'm one of those few people that was different. I wondered often why I had the power that I did, why I was considered "brilliant" surprising countless 'whitecoat's' who wanted to treat me more as a case study than a human being. Keep me under wraps. Keep what I could do under wraps.
You see, I recently found out, that I've got this thing going on with my brain that rather than using 10% of it's true power like most human beings can, I'm using an amount that is off the charts. An amount that cannot be measured even by conventional methods, and it doesn't even give me so much as a headache. My head isn't even oversize and pulsating like a Marvel Comic's villain. Yet, it's given me some perks. Oh, of course I can remember everything that's ever been said to me, everything that I read word for word, or seen. That's just the start of things, a gimmie at best. But in addition, it has allowed for me at times to control weather, control minds, anything that you've seen in those movies like "The Matrix" is a joke to me. I can do any of that stuff like you can sit on a bar stool and drink. Good God, I hear the voices of people's thoughts in my head all the time as nothing more than a rambling barrage of voices.
I especially love my Psychic Abilities. No, not in the sense of Ms. Cleo. Think more like flying, shooting energy balls, doing endless backflips, stuff like that.

Of course, there's also the downside effects, such as that despite having all of this, I can heal but I also cannot heal as fast, especially not at vampire speed. I cannot play sports as well as other people can, and at times I'm irritable grouch due in part to this curse that I have. It's lead me to lead a lonely life, always on the run, always full of complexity and chaos; despite bettering everyone else's life. I'm single, bored, and the millionaire lifestyle gets boring when you don't have anyone to share it with. There's been this hole that I've felt that I cannot fill in my spirit.

There are sometimes that I wish things that I could do would just go away.
My brainpower allowed me to get so far ahead of everyone else, that I was able to once work as an entrepreneur, and using my abilities and powers, I retired from corporate before my 19th birthday. Not only that, I had so much money that I could afford anything that my abilities couldn't otherwise net.
Yet despise all of this, none of this could get me a girl. None of this could bring me the kind of happiness, and pleasure that everyone else seemed to possess.
Then there was a time where I ran an academy. That was fun for a little while. Being able to teach what I knew to a class filled with similar people. But my demons followed me there too. For example, there was this time that Dr. Julius Hiro, my Moriarty, tried to take over the world. He succeeded, and the act of stopping him with the help of an army of my student friends and faculty members almost killed me in the process (not to mention countless others), I faked my death and like that, they gave me a statewide burial, the Congressional Gold Medal, and the Presidential Medal of Freedom, as well as (I would later find out) being written into the history and business textbooks across the globe.
Not a bad way to go out.
But that didn't mean that the problems didn't stop.
So often, did the problems that occurred from my past, follow me at Spektral, that even after being "cordially" invited to a rival school and finding out that the family that ran it were a race of ancients that didn't age and treated their youngest daughter like a slave, For most of our stay, I was undercover to the teeth, including my DNA. They soon discovered me though as I fell in love with Amaranth, the daughter that they treated like a slave. Together as a team, we all "ceased" their operations in a flamboyant matter, as they also tried to sell my students to underground government officials, and copy their DNA creating an evil clone of each of them to work for them, and after stopping the Nightshades (the ancients), I finally had to resign and also give up the company that I once created when I was ejected from the board due to lack of attendance. They gave me a nice one time bonus, gave me stock options, (I still own 40% of the Class 'A' stock in MasterCo. International which is currently trading at $11,650.00 a share. Expensive yes, but the value isn't going to decrease anytime soon, nor is the stock going to split), I got to keep the radio stations and recording studio and label I bought and distributed in every major city in America the summer before Hiro showed his face, (I'm a music fanatic. At one time, I owned$54 million in records, tapes, vinyls, CD's, 8 tracks, and downloads kept in a basement vault under lock and key. It's gone now though.) and they allowed me to keep the second highest retirement package ever offered in the United States up to that point, all because of my services.
Provided that I became a humanitarian and distribute all of my current wealth to noteworthy causes and efforts. Which I much obliged.
I put some of the money into developing alternate sources of fuel, cleaning up the planet, and fixing the economy in seventy countries.
So, I'm back down to a multi-millionaire lifestyle, making about early seven figures per week, but it's not all bad really. I've grown to appreciate the life and the occasional letters of thanks that I've been given, for my efforts. I've taken up writing and have become a published writer. 65% of my pay and royalty checks each week go to developing countries so that they can have clean water, good healthcare, and a nice place to sleep at night, rather than just sleeping on the floor.
It's making wonderful progress and I am happy to see the smiles when they aren't sleeping on a bed of soiled hay at night.
Only 25% goes to me, with the rest is used to keep my stations and label afloat, although it isn't that costly, as it's turning a profit itself from advertising.
And I'm building up a nice City Key and Civilian Medal collection from all the places that I helped to better through my efforts.
But what's it worth? Is this really all there is?
I thought that I would have had a better purpose than this. Though sleeping until noon everyday is nice, I'm finding that it's turned me lazy.
Though I've only dated a couple of women at best in my lifetime, neither lasted. One was Emily who was literally an angel that broke up with me, brokenhearted once she found out that I was with Amy although she was called Amaranth by everyone else, and man did she have a spunky attitude. I loved her, but I haven't seen her since the day that I ended her families operations permanently.
It's been five almost six years since I've resigned from Spektral. Even though my age is out there, I haven't aged physically yet, and I don't know whether it was from dating and being with Amy or what, but I don't look like what my age should be. If anything I look like I'm not a day over 22.
So, currently I'm trapped in this Xanadu watching the storm outside, when I've realized that I'm getting way out there, I don't want to lose you.
But you, dear reader deserved as brief of a history as I could give you.

Moment's after setting everything up and turning the projector on, Masterson sat back in his brown recliner and watched the film.

It seemed to be a series of images, detailing a weird world of fantasy, yet it was a dark one as well. It reminded him of an art collage.

"What is this? It's like watching a weird art film, the kind that are played in museums." he thought.

The longer that it went on, the more Masterson felt like he was being drawn in.

Sure enough, he screamed
"HEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL-"
as the projection pulled him into the randomized action that was on screen, ten minutes in, the projection 'screen' reverberating once he was completely pulled inside, with a pattern of waves like the raindrops hitting the backyard lake outside.

Michael seemed Gaunt to what he had been in the past year. His hair was not cut short along the back, leaving his bangs dangling just against the upper edge of his sight. His purple jacket was slightly torn at the hem, the remnants of a past pocket resting on his left peck. The jeans he now regretted wearing were torn up the left leg now with long cuts and fraying at the ankles. He could feet the tightness of his, now common, beanie against his head marked with the word Joker across the right side.
In his gut a slight growl of his starvation set in, one he put on himself to see when it would end him, but it only left him irritable and worn. The box he laid in started to smell delicious, making his mouth water. Anything would have been good to eat right then, even the rubber of the tires outside.

He wasn't sure how long he was in the hungered daze before it happened though. The loud boom of the truck being hit by an explosion from under neath him shocked him back to. He could feel the weightlessness of his body being slug through the air, hear the screams of the two men who had been driving and the breaking of their skin and bones. When he crashed against the ground, the coffin shattered. He was tossed along the ground rolling end over end before ending on his back in the middle of a Scottish green field.
The smell of ash mixed with the sent of grass that rolled across the dew covered hills. The night was still at a chill, but the stars and light from the fire was a nice change from the black box he had been in. It was actually relaxing enough to distract him from seeing the man bent over him, looking through thick spectacles.

"Michael C. Lee?" He asked, his age warn face carved with wrinkles and a smile only the old could manage.

Michaels' blank stare left the silence to last a while to long before he nodded an answer. The old man said nothing more, turning to his hip as he dug in his pocked, fishing from his coat a reel of film that was rarely used beyond movie theaters and teachers who couldn't get beyond the 70's. He left it on Michaels' chest and turned back to the rode. Michael didn't get up, instead tilting his head back to see the man strolled to a Mercedes S-class, climbed in the back seat and was driven away behind tinted glass.

((Well, seeing that other's haven't started yet, I'm going to move on, they can join in when they're ready, as long as they know the pattern to which how they come in.))

Masterson continued to fall once he was on the other side. He fell from the cloudy sky into a grassy, hilly field, crumpling as he hit the ground.

"Owww..." he groaned.

Making his way to his feet, he looked around at where he was. It almost appeared at first, as if the hilly grass-filled plateau was infinite, yet that wasn't true, as in the distance, Masterson could make out some mountain tops, as well as other things as well.

Just not clearly enough though.

He checked his body for injuries and finding none, checked his abilities.

He began by focusing his mind into creating a ball of energy in his hand. Sure enough, it turned green and came on almost instantly.

Then, he tried jumping up high, and landed moments later.

"Okay, I think we're good to go here. But that still doesn't answer the question of where I am."

Michael pressed himself up on one hands, the others groping his forehead in a shake to regain himself. He was still slightly dizzy from the fall, but it wasn't so bad as to take him out of mind. In fact, he was in constant thought of how this was all happening, under the belief that he was still lying out in the field, out cold from the starvation. It made sense to him,and that was all that mattered. There was one problem with the idea though. If this was all a dream, why did the pain seem so real. He also couldn't remember the last time he had a dream, and was sure he simply wasn't able to anymore. All making him less confident in his first idea.

When he looked around, he could see the three armed guards had multiplied to fifth-teen, each taking a strong battalion stance around him, built to keep him in a weak position against attack. He could remember hearing about it's first in the underworld, but always found it disheartening to see the actual move. So he stood, as he expect they were ready for, each shifting their blades at him, planting a wall of shields between him and these 'adversaries.' "What? Not like I pulled out my..." And even before he finished his sentence, Sendo crashed to the ground. The blade cutting out through his arm, stabbing into the ground, "Blade..."

That was enough to instigate fear and confusion in everyone around, but the woman guard took the moment as an opening. She charged forward with a great cry, soon followed close behind by the others.

Michael stood up in a smooth slow move, his head cocking back and to the right as he stared down his assailants, able to watch the woman's blade stab into his abdomen and push out through his back. The look on his face took time to adjust into it's calm pleasant look that said nothing happened, his arm pulling back for the first 'real' blow of the fight, and, like a flash, his arm smashed the woman's skull with the line of knuckles. There was a crack of bone, everyone's breath stopped as he flung here into the crashing path of the second guards blade. She was cleaved in two, the blood splattering across his and the guards torsos, warming them in what little life could be claimed in her as she crashed two the floor in two separate halves.

Michael's assault had only begun with the punch, a second blow coming in the heel of his foot. He hit the guard still stunned by the fact of who he had killed, his neck breaking under the stress. He was tossed aside like a limp rag doll, rolling across the floor and into the crowd. He didn't stop at the sound of screams and dread as the fey people tried dissipated in a hurried mass, turning to run from his destruction of their home and lives. Instead stepping forward to his next target.

Falling one after another, he laid waist to the group at attacked him. One was left dismembered on the ground, another had a hole punched through his chest, another still have his head pop from the shear applied force to his chest; Michael had always wondered if that was possible. The room was a broken corpse of it's former glory, blood stained and cracked from the battle that had taken place in it. The stone that made up the ceiling and walls had large fractures running through it, some large pieces having even fallen to the floor. Michael stood in it's center drops of blood dotting his figure as he looked about with little more then a glace of content emotion, "I tried to stop them."

It wasn't until a new smell caught his attention that he jumped in actual reaction to danger. There stood a man in a purple suit, gold chains hanging from him in all the trimmings. He stood with a dark cane in hand, reminding Michael far to much of the 'pimps' of America's many streets. His hands left the cane standing on end as the rose to his chest, parting a moment for a line of claps that then followed. "Well done, Well done indeed." he said in a snakes tone that reminded Michael of so many times when someone was about to use him, "I see you were well worth the effort."

"Uhu, and who the fck are you? God of this place? A evil Lesser Deity of this world which you have plans to amass destruction across her entire face?" Michael spoke with a slight sound so nonchalant that showed a slight irritation at the idea.

"Of sorts, but you seem to enjoy the idea of destruction as it stands."

"Yea, and I'm so gonna work for a lesser being then me."

"In your world I may be, but here, you're the weaker of the pair."

"Weak!?" Michael yelled the question as his fist clenched tight, "I'll show you weak!" Breaking into a sprint that was as fast as any bullet, fist slamming at where he was sure the guy stood, he could only feel air as his body flung itself through space. He caught himself just on the other side of the man, looking down at his fist. He was sure the guy was there to hit, why couldn't he hit him?!

"Still think you are stronger then me?... I am the Chaos of this world, and with you I am going to break it into an infinite amount of pieces. Welcome to Galvenetti, Your role, Michael, has just become larger then anyone before."