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Author's Comments

Credit must go to kirskipkat, aka "Jack", for driving me to this here. I've been trying not to write stories that revolve around a single "Hey, what if-", but some ideas are just too insane to resist. Written in one several-hour marathon session, just like in days of old, but I got tired and it shows. Gonna have to do a certain amount of editing...

[Before you is a pad of yellow legal paper covered in writing. The writing is large, the letters thin and in cursive. Part of it seems to have been written with the point of a Magic Marker, part in ultra-fine point permanent ink. Even though the letters have bled through the page a little, they are legible.]

You figured it out. That’s great! I obviously can’t talk(no mouth), and keyboards are a problem(I can’t hit one key at a time with any force whatsoever. Unless you give me a pencil or something), but I can write on paper if it’s a flat surface(It’s too much effort not to write in cursive, but it looks elegant, right? I can do a great copy of the Declaration of Independence. Admittedly, it pretty much has to be in marker). So first things first.

Okay, you know, I can hear you just fine. I don’t have any eyes or ears or skin(or bones or blood or internal organs or muscles), still, nothing wrong with my senses. I don’t know how it works. Okay. I wasn’t trying to attack you, and I’m sorry that it looked like I was(How else could I get your attention?). I really couldn’t think of anything else to do(What am I supposed to do with a phone, flap at it? And I don’t exactly have a computer or stamps. Plus, you might not have seen it. You probably get a lot of mail).

Okay. Okay. I’ll tell you, and it’s a good thing you gave me the whole pad. I haven’t really told anyone this before(except Doctor Quest or Sands or whatever he calls himself. It’s probably filed away with all the release forms), not even my parents, so – I guess I’ll start from the beginning. And I mean the beginning. It’s not like there’s a real close time limit. That I know of.

I’m not a Stranger, like I’ve heard you are, sir(Okay. Steve. Are you this informal with everyone? Okay, yes, going on). Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I remember when I didn’t look like this. I’m not really angsty about it anymore, but I remember being human.

I was born on July Fifth at two forty-three in the morning(Yes, just a few hours too late to be born on the Fourth of July. That’s irony), about two and a half years younger than my sister. My mother had just turned thirty, my father was a little younger. I ended up getting jaundice(When I was that age, they put me in an incubator for it, but I’ve heard they stopped the practice. Sorry. Moving on), and got better fast enough that there really wasn’t any problem.

I’d say that I grew up pretty normal(first words, first steps, housebreaking, etc, etc), and I guess my childhood was normal too. Which doesn’t mean “ideal”(I’m serious here. Anyone who starts going on about how everything was better and happy when they were kids is either lying or very forgetful), it means varied and complicated. I got angry every time I reached the end of summer vacation(Seriously. I was sulky), I had braces and glasses for years(The braces came off in eighth grade. The glasses lasted until Xanadu), I collected rocks and bird’s nests and comic books, I had terrible acne and a crush on the pretty girl next door at the same time, I once sprained my ankle in cross country…

Sorry. I know I’m rambling. I always ramble, but - see(I’m sorry, sir. I can’t call you Steve, I just can’t), I was the kid who really, secretly loved the idealistic patriotic kind of superhero, and you’re – well, you’re you. And I’m geeking out. I know you probably get that a lot, but seriously. I collected your comics(They’re probably still in a box in my closet. If I had them here, I’d ask you to sign one. Or several). No one could have guessed – okay, moving on.

I had a couple of friends who thought it was funny. Sometimes they were a little bit mean about it(or a lot mean), still, we got along fine otherwise. I showed them one of the comics(I don’t know if Heroes Reborn means anything to you all), and there was a line in it that Sasha(Friend of mine. She says that's a boy's name in Eastern Europe) really liked. About “the stars and stripes coming to life to defend us”(You see where this is going, right?). She was one-quarter Russian, I was like one-twelfth Cherokee, and Randy’s mom is black, but his dad is half Irish, a quarter Dutch, and a quarter German(We’re - we were - a very mixed-ethnicity trio. I think the only things missing were South American pygmy and Japanese. Wait, I don’t know – okay, moving on).

It was a joke, you know. The three biggest ones. We did it as a joke, and Randy knew he was going to get a lot of heat for his choice, but Xanadu was a furry con too, and there were already going to be Nazi furs(I really don’t know why they do it either. It’s beyond me), so it wasn’t like he’d be the only one. Obviously we didn’t know ahead of time. No one did.

The costumes were pretty simple, now that I think about it. Each of us had the same style. We mail-ordered flags from this one site on the internet, and made these things out of them. Like capes, but also attached to our wrists(Like Storm there. Only not as cool and ... kind of stupid looking. I wouldn't have worn it if they hadn't been with me). And when we were there, we playacted like little kids. Like, they ganged up on me, and then Randy would swoop at Sasha and we both ganged up on him(Then he’d pull back and we’d circle each other for a while, and – okay, yeah, that’s really not relevant), and I think they got more into it than I did. They went and playfought each other when I was distracted with comics(Suicide Squad. I was curious).

So I think they were more in character when it happened. You know what I mean. The world knows what it means. The Event.

You probably don’t remember any of it, sir. You’re a Stranger. Nothing is left of whoever was wearing that costume(Is it true that they think you were that girl with the “Cap Was Right” shirt? Oh. Wow, that’s gotta be awkward), you might as well have stepped through a portal into this universe. But you probably do remember that it was crazy after that(Now I’m using the nonspecific “you”. Sorry I’ve ignored you guys. Don’t know how many of you are Strangers. Oh. Okay).

You’d think I’d have changed into, I don't know, a guy with a flag for a cape who might have been able to glide around. I didn’t. They say it had to do with the subconscious mentality(Like how some people with rabbit-ear headbands turned into rabbits and others just had rabbit ears. Or how some people remember who they’d been and some are Strangers. And all these things in between). I turned into this, though a different fabric and a few feet larger(And no holes. I’ve been reweaving, but I think you can still see them. It’s okay, no harm done. Can’t blame you).

Yeah. It was. It was insane. Took me forever to figure out how to move. And it didn’t help that I was stepped on like eight million times(I’m lucky I didn’t get shredded or burnt. Sorry. I’m kind of afraid of f--- of that now. I can’t help that reflex). That happens all at once to everyone in a big huge convention like Xanadu, of course everyone panics. I lost all the possessions I had in the Event or right after. Everything in my pockets(my cell phone, wallet with ID and money, keys), my clothes and glasses(not that I need either anyway), the comics I’d just bought. Totally gone. Gone.

Hey, I think the marker is running out of ink, s mu ch f int Thank you(They don’t call it super-speed for nothing, do they? I didn't even see you leave... That was ‘it’s much fainter’, but I’m sure the text speaks for itself). Much better. Moving on.

So yeah. I had a bunch of misadventures, and if you want to talk to Doctor Quest or Sands or whatever his name is, I’m sure he’ll be happy to lend the papers to you. Long story short, I figured out how to move in an ignoble sort of low-to-the-ground way(I didn’t know anything about origami at the time. It was really awkward), how to open and close doors, how to hold a marker and write with it, though getting the cap off is really a problem. And that I don’t need(and can’t use, for that matter) food or water(I get uneasy if I don’t move at all for a long time, if I don’t feel moving air and different temperatures, but I don’t know if it’s a need. I really don’t think I’m technically alive, but hey, a brain is wet stuff lit with electricity). There were some nice people who talked to my parents on the phone for me.

Couple weeks after the Event, I had a meeting with Doctor Quest-or-Sands(Seriously, he introduced himself as Sands, but pretty much everyone calls him Quest), spent a long time writing and being spoken to. I think they had a telepath nearby or something to keep me honest. Eventually he decided that I was pretty much harmless(I might be able to strangle or suffocate someone. Maybe. I mean, I haven’t tried), and let me go into the hands of my parents. I think all of you went through a similar process(Only you’re not harmless and you obviously didn’t go back to your old lives even if you remember them. You’ve gone and made one of the superteams. Makes sense with all the villains and monsters out here now, and the rest of the world not really having any defense) when you got recruited to Project X.

Of course I know about Project X(Seriously, it’s not a secret). The world is changed forever, of course the government’s gonna recruit people who’ll try to keep the public safe. It was in the Miami Herald(I don’t trust my local Orlando Sentinel. Not since that Perry White guy took over. Better him than JJJ, I guess, but why anyone costumed as either of them… well, whatever).

Anyway. My parents took me home. The house wasn’t too far from Xanadu. Outside the evacuated zone, though(Eight miles, give or take. I don’t think the evacuated zone ever got any bigger. Still two miles, last I heard. Sorry, sir. I know you know).

They didn’t mistreat me in any way that I could tell. But they’d pulled my sister out of college(I think Midtral would’ve kicked her out anyway. They’ve been very bad about that, expelling anyone and everyone who might’ve had some connection to Xanadu. The government would probably have something to say about that if it wasn’t so busy with everything else) and she was home(And finally taller than me again. That was really weird). They tried to keep me from ever going outside, and they stopped having friends over. Any friends, which for my parents is saying something. They used to have people over every week. After I got back, though, it was total lockdown.

I’ve gotten over it by now, but I’ll tell you, I was terribly depressed for a long time(You can guess why). Kind of locked into my own world, and spent a lot of time watching TV. Hard to find a channel, any channel, that wasn’t covering Xanadu in some way(Not that I can blame them. There’s magic in the world now, and supertech, and things and people that defy all the rules we took for granted. Not to mention all the licensed characters running around); still, there were a few. My parents bought a TiVo. They’d always said that they wouldn’t.

It was hard for them, I know(Hard for all of us, but I was too self-absorbed to see it at first). It was very hard. I couldn’t live my old life at all and they had no idea what to do with me. Even though they tried not to show it, it was there. How strained everything got.

My sister had started a Japanese class while at Midtral, and she got it into her head that origami might do me good(She was right, but damn if it didn’t take me a long while to see it). She didn’t just talk at me, she left books open and learned to fold paper and towels, and showed me how she’d done it. Eventually she got me to try. Turns out I can make myself selectively rigid and hard(Hah. Hah. Oh, please, Spidey – do you mind if I call you that? Okay! – I’ve already heard every possible variation of ‘hard’ joke from my sister.

Oh. Well. Not that one. That’s awful. No, seriously, you can stop – thank you, sir. I know you told me to call you that. I just can’t. Not after – okay. Yes, sir. Yes, Cap. Carrying on), which makes folding simpler(Moving too, for that matter). There aren’t a whole lot of origami shapes for rectangles and I’m not sure how to go about making new ones. Still, it felt really good to be structured again. To not need to slither or be carried everywhere.

Oh. Oh, okay. Well, I'll be here... I won't try and escape.

You're back. What was that about? Ooh. Wow. I didn't know. Okay. Yeah, I'll get back to it. Sorry for taking up so much of your time, I know you get called off at irregular hours, but I need your help, and it's better if I give context.

There were a lot of challenging folds in those books to try out. I kind of woke up out of that funk and took an interest in the world again(Not sure how much time had passed, actually. I stopped paying attention to that. I mean, I know from the date just how long it’s been since the event – oh, sorry).

My sister told me that everyone thought I was dead or a Stranger, and our parents really hadn’t tried very hard to correct that view. Well, it’s often really hard to tell which Stranger came from where, and not all of them are willing to make contact with people who claim to be related(They can’t all be like you, sir. Sorry. Cap). They’d practically cut themselves off from society(Yes, I mean my parents). Quit or laid off from their jobs, even.

I tried to talk to them about it. I had a little whiteboard with a dry erase marker that had a keyring glued to the cap(Handy, that. Kind of hard to carry around, though. I'm not exactly built for that. Or anything but looking pretty, I guess). But they didn’t really see. It was frustrating. Like I really had died, or gotten – simple. Like a dog or something(Or a Roomba. They got one of those, too. Stopped being cute the first time it tried to suck me up). Let’s face it, I don’t look remotely human. It’s kind of hard to think of something that looks like me as a person.

Very annoying. I would have kept at it if something hadn’t come in the mail. A manila envelope with no return address(Four stamps, all used). It was addressed, and I quote, “To the Stars and Stripes, to Old Glory, to the Star-Spangled Banner, to the Union Jack, to the United States Flag” on the first line. Below that, just the regular address stuff.

Hard to open one of those things using just edges and corners, a little easier with rigid folded points(Oh, shut up). My sister would have done it for me, bless her, but I didn’t want her to. It was a letter, a very long one. See how my writing(Can’t call it “handwriting”, can I?) is this light sort of cursive unless I make a conscious effort to change it? The writing for this was … blocky. Very Russian(In English, but the letters looked a lot like Russian text).

It was signed, and again I quote, “From the Flag of the Red Star, from the Hammer and Sickle, from the Krasny(You know Russian, huh? Yep, ‘red’, but also ‘the best’ and ‘beautiful’. I don’t know how I know it. Yeah, maybe it is a flag thing), from the Banner of the Communist Party, from the Soviet Union Flag”. The contents of the letter weren’t so, well, dramatic. Not on the surface. It seemed very light-toned, very casual, like the writer was gossiping about friends. But there was a code in it(No idea how I knew). And I spent some time on Wikipedia; turns out that the names were all variations of people who’d done various things in World War Two.

The code translated more or less to an offer of alliance against a greater foe. I’m not going to quote it(I'd show you if it hadn't been, uh, lost on the way here), but it said that it was not really my enemy, and that we need each other’s help. Hinted a lot about treachery and evil plans, never said who this enemy was. But… well, I think I know.

I know. It looks like I totally forgot about Sasha and Randy. But it’s not like that. Really. We separated some time before the Event(I have no idea exactly how long). And for a good while after it happened, I couldn’t do much more than twitch. I thought about them. I asked people to call their numbers(No signal. Because the cells were lost or broken in the Event? I wish I knew), and I looked, and I asked people, but – nothing.

Well. Not nothing. There were people who looked like and claimed to be Soviets(Or worse, Nazis. They made my threads unravel, metaphorically speaking. I don’t know what happened to them – whoa, you’ve fought them?! Really? Huh. Every day, the world gets farther from “normal”. Huh. I hadn’t thought of it like that before. You’re right, s- Cap. We make our own “normal”).

I don’t think anyone or anything phases Doctor Quest-or-Sands. I really believe that he wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t seen anything like me(It’s possible that they ended up looking very different. Maybe just regular flags, but telepathic or something. Maybe people with capes. For a while I hoped that they hadn’t really changed at all, and that they’d just gone home. But my sister said that neither of them had been seen since the Event). And yeah, he’s involved with interviews for everyone allowed out, but security was never all that tight. I don’t think I could have gotten out while I was there, but I wasn’t even really used to my body.

I think, mentally, they were a lot more affected than me(Yeah, this is definitely conjecture). They kept on swooping at each other while I stopped for comics, they had the nation-specific jabs(I can’t say what was worse, Randy’s German or the angry faces Sasha made when she was retorting), they were just way more into it than I was. Neither of them were all that self conscious. I’ve heard about how the more into it you were just before the Event, the more it did to the inside of your head.

No, you’re right. Sasha – I don’t know if she calls herself the Hammer and Sickle now, or if she even calls herself female – can’t have been a true, total Stranger. She knew my address. But there are degrees of Stranger, after all(The lot of you pretty much go up and down the whole spectrum, don’t you? Uh, anyway).

Well. I left. I wrote a goodbye, of course, so it’s not like I just vanished, but I left and wasn't clear on why. I don’t know how they did after that(Better, I hope. I’d like it if they moved on). My sister probably knows it had something to do with the letter, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t understand. The “to” and “from” coulda tipped her off, I suppose, but I never told her much about the costumes or going in with those two. She never really approved of my friends. Too loud and pushy.

Yes. New York City _is_ a long way away from Orlando, Florida. I actually have no idea how long it took. Found out I can kinda-sorta fly, though(It is even cooler than it sounds. Also, more scary). There was a sort of bat-wing glider among the origami shapes(Poses? I don’t know), which I’d memorized but hadn’t exactly used. Turns out it works, at least for me. Gliding, not real flapping flight. I need a counterweight in the center, which is also useful if I lose control and have to try parachuting(Again).

Well, there’s supposed to be a team near Xanadu, but all I heard about was the 501st base. And they have people called stormtroopers and officers in what looks a lot like Nazi-officer-garb(What? What?! Oh, well, I didn’t know that. How am I supposed to know. They’ve said themselves that they’re bad guy characters). I thought I saw a streak up in the sky which might have been a Superman, but I didn’t have any way to catch his interest(“Flag him down”. Ha. Ha. Sheesh), and I couldn’t get to Doctor Quest-or-Sands, I think this was during that hostile takeover crisis. Sure I should have waited. I didn't. And frankly, you’re closer than Washington DC or San Francisco. I’m aware there are others, but they aren’t based in any city that I know of(Wikipedia again. Of course, that was just before they found out about the whole thing with Braniac, so it probably was even less reliable than usual).

Found out something interesting on the way. Apparently I’m not “just” a living(Well, arguably living) flag with the ability to harden myself(I heard that), if I will it to happen I can sort of transfer myself to another flag. So long as it’s got the same design, or very similar(Recognizable, anyway). I found that out when I hit a propeller(Fun. Not. I lost the envelope there, and my counterweight). I have to have seen it, and recently, though.

Huh? You have walky-talkies? Oh. They look like walky-talkies, though. What's this about Candle Jack? I know that over at Xanadu they said it was a bad idea to say or write his -----

Wow. Okay, wow. That was amazing. He just - and you just - you made it look so easy! Wow. So that's what you do when you hear he's in the area, huh? Get someone nearby to say his name, and when he shows up - yeah, okay. I understand. You've got get someone to go and find where he put the abductees.

That took a while. Okay. Yeah. Transferring. It’s not easy. I have to be pretty distressed in the first place. I had no idea what had happened the first time(Just found myself flapping on a flagpole. Getting off it was challenging, to say the least), but then I tried experimenting… Turns out I can take on the painted flag on an airplane. That’s really very disorienting though, and I can’t move much(Feels - itchy, I guess). It’s much nicer to have threads and strands.

I did that a ways north, and east, and then took on another flagpole one and glided, well, here. I can’t believe they have a building up for you already. Well, yeah, I guess so. I’d have been scared too, after the – well, after all that. You know.

Sir. Cap. Look, I’m really sorry about that. Really sorry. I was getting clawed, and you – you’re practically wearing a flag, I wasn’t thinking – Yes. Yes, I’ll forget about it. Yeah.

So anyway, I’ve taken up way too much of your time already, even if I am a fast writer. I’ll get down to it. I need your help.

Randy, or that thing that used to be Randy, can’t be good news. For anyone. And I’m pretty sure that I’m going to have to go against him, and he probably won’t be “just” what I am, he’s got to have picked up allies. Sasha hinted at that. And I’m not sure how much I can do.

Help me? Please? Even if I can handle Randy, Sasha – I don’t know what to do about Sasha. Assuming that we’re really playing out from World War Two onwards, there’s going to be trouble. I have a weird theory about transferring as a metaphor for the bomb – yeah, I know, but for all I know there are bad effects. Please. I need your help. You’ve been very accommodating so far, and I have to thank you for that.

[that is the last line on the last page of the legal pad]