Date: Sun, 10 Mar 2024 20:59:00 +0000 (UTC)
From: Joseph Klimczak <at3unit3@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Tales of Sol 79B

The Tales of Sol 79B
By Joe at3unit3@yahoo.com

This is a fictional story; it is not intended to imply that any members of
the Backstreet Boys, Nsync, or 98 Degrees are gay, or any of the other
celebrities mentioned are homosexuals. If you are not old enough to read
these stories, do yourself a favor and don't get caught. The same goes for
those people whose countries have these sites made illegal. And for
everyone else enjoy

Captain Planet and related characters were created by R.E Turner and
copyrighted by AOL Time Warner Company and Trademark by TBS Productions

Babylon 5 and all related characters and props were created by Michael
Straczynski and copyrighted by Warner Bros.

Star Trek and all related characters created by Gene Roddenberry.
Copyright Paramount

Transformers and all related characters, and props are trademarked by
Hasbro Inc. Copyright Rhino Home Videos and AOL Time Warner Entertainment
CO

He-Man, She-Ra, related characters, and props are trademarked by Filmation
1980s

Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, Angel, and all related characters created by
Joss Whedon.  Copyright 20th Century Fox.

Batman, and all related characters created by Bob Kane. Copyright DC Comics
and Warner Bros.

X-MEN and all related characters were created by Stan Lee. Copyright Marvel
Comics and 20th Century Fox.

To those who've been reading Tales of Sol. I want you to know that there is
sex in this story. That is not its sole purpose and yes I do hope the sex
sense makes you all hard and gets you off.

Sol is an adaptation from my childhood favorite show Captain Planet and the
Planeteers. The cartoon showed us that the world can be a better place if
we take a few moments to care for it.

Tales of Sol is meant to express hope.

It also shows how music can have an impact in our lives. I don't know if my
favorite bands 98 Degrees, Backstreet Boys, or Nsync have ever read
this. They saw me through some of the hardest moments of my life and
offered in their own way hope. To them, I say thank you.

I dedicate the Tales of Sol to all of my brothers and sisters of the US
Armed Service past, present, and future.

I like to thank my friends whom I had the privilege of showing these
chapters with. They helped with editing and inspiration,

John Rivera, Albert-Russ Alan Rivera-Odum, Derbe.D. Hunte Yvette Ortiz
Samuel Diaz Jr for all their help in Making The Tales of Sol an enjoyable
story to write.

And I have a few other names starting with the beginner of this universe.

James is the author of Tales of a Real Dark Knight. I still hope to
reconnect with you dear friend and all the rest of this series.

Blake the author of Tales of a New Phoenix

Jeremi author of the Tales of Young Mutants

I am adding a few more remarks. I have entered into the 21st century of AI
editing, I have been using various AI programs to help with grammar checks,
clarity, and improvements to my story.

This story was edited with the help of GPT Workspace, Grammarly, Microsoft
Copilot, and Quill Bot AI software.

AI Use Disclosure: I used GPT Workspace to generate some text for my story,
Grammarly to check my grammar and spelling, Microsoft Copilot to write some
code snippets, and Quillbot to paraphrase some sentences. I verified the
accuracy and originality of the AI-generated content and cited the sources
that I used for reference.

References:

GPT Workspace. (2024, January 9). Version 1.0. [AI tool]. GPT Workspace
Inc. https://gptworkspace.com/

Grammarly. (2024, January 9). Version 5.6. [AI tool]. Grammarly
Inc. https://www.grammarly.com/

Microsoft Copilot. (2024, January 9). Version 2.3. [AI tool]. Microsoft
Corporation. https://copilot.github.com/

Quillbot. (2024, January 9). Version 4.2. [AI tool]. Quillbot
Inc. https://quillbot.com/

The Tales of Sol 79B

There is Always a Price

The tendrils of sleep wrapped around me, drawing me into a dream where
Steve's voice found its way through the ether. "You are the Guardian," he
said, with a reverence that spoke of ancient myths and long-held
beliefs. It was startling -- these were words I had never uttered to him,
secrets I had kept closely guarded.

"In our legends, the Guardian emerges, cloaked in truth and wisdom. To
neglect his counsel is to invite sorrow upon ourselves," Steve's voice
echoed in the space of dreams. "To restore the balance I disrupted, I
entrust myself to Pele. My sacrifice is penance, that Hawaii may be spared
from further anguish," he clarified, his voice a mixture of peace and
finality.

I listened, a passive observer in the dreamscape, bearing witness to
Steve's rationalization of his final act -- a self-imposed guardianship of
his own, seeking to protect the lands and peoples he had once jeopardized
through silence. His revelation settled upon me with a weight that
transcended sleep, the implications of which would linger long after I
awoke.

I opened my eyes to find Brian already awake, his presence a source of both
comfort and stability. "Mike," he began, reflecting on the revelation that
had shaken us both, "about what happened with La'Tola..."

I braced myself, sensing the gravity in his voice. "Yes, about the
Director?" I encouraged him to continue.

He sighed deeply, the furrow in his brow hinting at the internal struggle
to make sense of the tragedy. "It's hard to wrap my head around," he
admitted. "Yes, the man made an error--he rejected crucial information
about Mauna Loa that you brought to him. That acknowledgment, that
gratitude, was owed. But his decision to... to take such a final step over
it..." For Brian, as for so many, understanding the full weight of guilt
and regret that could drive someone to such an end was a staggering
concept.

His words hung in the air, a somber cloud amid the quiet light of
dawn. Together, we lay there, contending with the complexity of emotions
that such a loss had stirred--grief, empathy, and an acute awareness of the
frail threads upon which life can hang.

I pulled myself upright, the morning chill brushing against my skin as the
reality of the previous day crept back. "Brian, there was chaos when I
found Steve and the others on the slope," I said, recalling the vivid
images. "The earth had cracked wide open, and molten lava was nearly upon
them when I got there."

I could still feel the tremors in the ground, see the terror in their eyes
as I had swooped in -- the heat of the lava biting at the air, the fear
palpable as I worked to lift them to safety. It was a moment of narrow
escapes and harrowing truths, with lives hanging in the balance.

Brian's steadfast presence was a grounding force as I enclosed him in my
arms, the connection between us offering silent reassurance in the wake of
uncertainty.

"Steve was consumed by his guilt, by the weight of what he perceived as his
own failures," I continued, my voice soft but certain. "The losses, the
devastation--it overwhelmed him. In his mind, he couldn't separate his
decisions from the disaster that unfolded, and it drove him to a place of
deep despair."

Looking into Brian's eyes, I sought to impart understanding where there was
confusion and peace where there was unrest. "What Steve chose to do in the
face of that, it's not ours to appraise. His journey was his own, shaped by
burdens we might never fully comprehend. Our role now is to offer
compassion--to remember him, to hope that wherever he is, he's found the
serenity that eluded him in his final moments."

It was a somber reflection, one that transcended the confines of our room,
reaching out towards the broader mortal coil and the shared humanity that
binds us in moments of sorrow and joy alike.

Brian's words wrapped around me almost as tangibly as his embrace, his
voice warm with affection and admiration. "You have this rare ability to
find the light in others, Mike, even when they've lost sight of it
themselves. Your heart is vast, your soul resilient. You're not just the
Guardian in the title--you embody every bit of its essence," he spoke with
a reverence that made my chest swell.

His lips met mine in a tender caress, a soft punctuation to his
sentiment. "But you're also human, my love," he reminded me, his eyes
earnest with concern. "You pour so much of yourself into guarding, into
giving, that sometimes I worry you might forget to give to yourself. You've
shouldered so much; it's time you allowed yourself to rest, to heal from
the battles fought, seen, and unseen," he urged, his care for me as fierce
as my drive to protect.

The reminder was both necessary and welcome. In the vast sea of
responsibilities, in the tireless quest to shield and save, Brian's voice
served as a lighthouse--a beacon guiding me back to my own shores,
reminding me that self-care was not a luxury, but essential to my
guardianship. It was a lesson I would hold close, a truth delivered with
the purest intent by the one whose love anchored me to the world I vowed to
protect.

Brian's eyes softened as I mirrored his affection in words and touch,
affirming the depth of our bond. "You're my sanctuary, Brian. In the
whirlwind of all that I do, in the heart of every storm I face, it's you
who brings me peace," I confessed, our lips meeting again in a shared
understanding, a promise of mutual support.

"You give me a thousand reasons to keep pushing forward, reasons to find
joy in the simplest of things," I continued the gravity of my declaration
underscored by the sincerity in my eyes. "Finding you, being with you--it's
the universe's greatest gift to me. For that, and for all the days we have
and the moments we share, thank you."

Heedful of his wise counsel, I agreed, "Rest is what's next on the horizon
for both of us. Tomorrow beckons with its own unknowns, its own demands,"
and with that, we entwined more closely, sinking into the shared warmth of
our embrace beneath the gentle shelter of the blankets. There, in the quiet
cocoon we created, we allowed the world to spin on without us for a few
hours, finding renewal in each other's presence as we slipped into the
restful embrace of sleep.

The gentle rhythm of the night brought us stillness and tranquility. "Let's
just soak in this time together," Brian murmured, burrowing into the space
beside me.

"That's exactly what I need," I replied, contented by the steady beat of
his heart and the soft cadence of his breathing. "I love you, Brian," I
declared, a heartfelt truth spoken plainly, as I let my eyelids fall.

His reply was a whisper of affection that ushered us both toward
slumber. "Love you too, Mike," he breathed out as sleep claimed us both.

In the sanctuary of each other's arms, we dozed peacefully, enveloped in
dreams and the assurance of a shared tomorrow. But the morning brought an
abrupt departure from rest; a vigorous knock sounded against the
door. Reluctantly extricating myself from Brian's embrace and the comfort
of our bed, I slipped on fresh clothes from our recent shopping and opened
the door.

I was greeted by Nick, his expression apologetic. "Hey, hate to wake you
guys, but we all need to gather," he said, a gentle acknowledgment of the
rest we had both rightfully earned. His consideration did nothing to dampen
the fact that a new day awaited, and with it, new duties -- or perhaps new
wonders. With a deep breath, I stepped into the morning, ready for what lay
ahead.

My laughter remained contained, a private amusement at the paradox of my
existence. Here I stood, age akin to Nick's at 27, yet bearing the wisdom
of ages far beyond our years. The contrast was almost humorous -- youth
entwined with the ancient.

Brushing off sleep's last vestiges, I focused on Nick. "All good,
Nick. Just tell me we're not looking at any lava flows today," I
half-joked, half-hoped, the idea of facing another natural wonder somewhat
daunting after all we'd experienced.

He shook his head, the faintest smile crossing his lips. "Nothing like
that. But Rob's heading out to LA soon, and he's hoping to catch up with
you guys before his flight."

The invitation was a welcome change, an opportunity for normalcy and
companionship amidst the whirlwind of the past few days. An unspoken
understanding passed between us as I nodded, grateful for the simpler joys
of friendship and farewells. "Absolutely, let's do that. I'll grab Brian,"
I said to Nick before closing the door and turning back to where Brian was
still lounging in bed.

The ring of my cell phone cut through the morning calm, and just like that,
Brian's brief respite from wakefulness was interrupted. "Hey, Dave," he
mumbled into the receiver, his voice thick with sleep but still infused
with his constant warmth. "No, no, it's fine," he assured before passing
the phone my way with an understanding nod. "Mike, it's for you."

I received the phone from Brian, mouthing a 'thanks' as he prepared himself
to meet with Rob. "Hey, Dave, what's going on?" I queried once Brian had
stepped out, the anticipation of new information, or perhaps another
mission, hanging in the balance.

Dave's voice carried a gravity that immediately anchored my full
attention. "The USGS has shared some further details about Steve
La'Tola. It sheds more light on why he took his own life," he explained
solemnly.

My mentor's voice carried a gravity that preluded the weight of his
forthcoming explanation. "The USGS has provided additional context
regarding Steve La'Tola's decision to end his life," he intoned with due
solemnity.

As details unfolded of a radio transmission between Steve and the USGS
base, their conversations based on the volcanic activity became the
backdrop to my dawning realization.

My attention drifted to the photo taken during our excursion on Mount
Kilauea. There, among the faces, Tag La'Tola stood out with his beaming
smile, a stark contrast to the grim narrative unraveling over the phone. I
noticed, perhaps for the first time, the connection that had eluded me
before--the shared last name, the features echoing a familial bond. Steve
La'Tola wasn't just the former Director of the USGS; he was Tag's father.

The pieces of a tragic puzzle clicked into place. Both Steve and Tag had
been present during Mauna Loa's ruthless eruption. A fissure, a monstrous
scar in the earth, had claimed Tag and numerous USGS members--a moment I
had witnessed too late to prevent. My heart ached with fresh sorrow,
understanding now the depth of Steve's despair. To witness his son's
demise, and to lose those under his leadership, the event must have left an
indelible mark of grief and guilt upon him.

The reality settled like a stone in my chest. Tag, the bright, enthusiastic
guide of our Kilauea tour, had been lost to the sudden inferno along with
his colleagues--before I could intervene. The implication that Steve had
witnessed it all, the unimaginable horror of seeing his son consumed by
nature's unforgiving might, was a burden beyond comprehension.

Now, the weight of Steve's grief was visceral, no longer abstract but vivid
and personal. The stark truth of his loss throbbed in my consciousness, and
I felt an aching sorrow for this man who, despite our differences, shared
in the human experience of profound love and profound grief. My respect for
him deepened, as did my compassion for the sorrow he endured in his final
moments on Earth.

"Alright, Dave, I have to head out now. Rob's waiting," I said, the
heaviness of our conversation lingering even as I ended the call.

Holding on to the group photo, memories of our tour guide Tag came flooding
back. He was the young, spirited soul I had pulled from peril that day near
Kilauea, his buoyant personality in stark contrast to the more serious
demeanor of his father. That same vibrant energy had been forever silenced
by the volcano's wrath.

My mind raced with this new, heart-wrenching knowledge as I approached the
room where the others were gathered. Howie's voice filtered through,
lightly probing, "So, where's your other half?"

Brian's response carried the weight of recent events. "Mike had an
unexpected and somber encounter," he explained, his voice low and saturated
with empathy for the revelation we had both received.

AJ's frustration was palpable, the raw emotion in his question exposing his
lingering anger towards the former director's fateful decisions. "What good
did he think talking to Mike at this point would do?"

Kevin, with a calmer disposition, sought to clarify the past dynamic. "Mike
did his part; he presented the intel he garnered from the Earth. All that
was left was for it to be corroborated."

AJ was reluctant to drop the issue. "But imagine the difference it would
have made, Kev. If things had been taken seriously, Sol
could've... intervened sooner."

The atmosphere thickened with unspoken what-ifs and the weight of regret
that no one present could truly carry. It was Nick's concern that broke the
palpable tension. "You okay, Bri? You look like you just saw a ghost."

It was then that Brian unveiled the grim news. "Steve La'Tola... he's
gone. Ended his own life, in the aftermath of Mike's conversation," he
explained, the words dropping heavily among us.

An outpouring of shock and disbelief echoed through the room, a collective
exhalation of stunned horror at the revelation of Steve's tragic end. The
clarity of what had unfolded set in, shades of anger tinged with sympathy.

"Why would he?" Rob's voice cut through, on edge with urgency.

As I stepped into the room, the conversation halted, all eyes turning to
me. Brian's gaze fell upon the photograph I held, an artifact that seemed
to suddenly matter even more. "What's that in your hand, Mike?"

I joined them, handing over the photo. "Take a look--you'll all recognize
this," I said, prompting them to close in and inspect the captured memory.

Nick was quick to recall the details. "From our tour around Kilauea. That
day was something else," he mused.

"That's right," I affirmed, pointing to the radiant figure in the
photograph. "And who's this right here?" The man's beaming face seemed
almost alive, emanating warmth even from the still image.

AJ looked at the photo, his voice lowering as realization dawned on
him. "Wait... that's Tag," he murmured, a connection clicking into place.

"That is Tag La'Tola," I confirmed softly, giving them a moment to piece it
all together.

The reveal hit Brian like a sudden downpour. "Steve's son? He was the one
who showed us around Mount Kilauea?" He blinked, taken aback by the
unforeseen link between their enthusiastic guide and the director who had
so recently born the mantle of their misfortunes. The room was awash with a
sense of shared discovery, as everyone processed the depth of La'Tola's
loss, now understood in its painful entirety.

The room fell silent as each member of the Backstreet Boys, and Rob Thomas
absorbed the grave reality behind Tag La'Tola's jovial face in the
photograph. As I narrated the harrowing fate he met on the volcano's slopes

"Yes, and Tag along with his father and dozens of USGS scientists and
vulcanologists were trapped on the slope when a fissure caused by the
volcano opened up. It sent Tag and several people from the USGS into a new
ravine that was quickly filled by lava." The utter horror at what I just
said hit everyone like a ton of bricks.

"Steve watched his son perish in a disaster he couldn't prevent," Howie
summed up, the tragedy of the situation dawning on him, echoing the heavy
sorrow in the air.

"There's something else--another connection between that photo and Steve's
last visit," I added, a realization nagging at the edge of my thoughts.

Prompted by my words, Kevin puzzled, "What do you mean?" His eyes sought
some hidden truth in the photo I held.

I directed their gaze to the image again. "Kevin, look at how Tag is
standing, the brightness of his smile, and how he's next to AJ," I pointed
out the subtle yet telling details. The close proximity wasn't merely the
stance of a tour guide; it was the posture of someone with a deep affection
for the group, for their music--a fan. It lent context to Steve's presence
at the concert, his need for forgiveness, and his final, devastating
choice.

As the band members leaned closer to inspect the image, recognition
flickered in AJ's eyes. "Tag was a massive fan. And out of all of us, I
guess I was his favorite," he noted, a touch of bittersweet pride in his
voice.

The photo spoke volumes--a manifestation of Tag's admiration for the
Backstreet Boys and AJ in particular. There he stood, his grin one of pure
elation, the sort only a true fan can wear in the presence of their
idols. AJ's arm casually draped around Tag was a simple gesture of
friendship, but for Tag, it was a moment of sheer delight.

Unaware at the time of how deeply his simple hug had impacted Tag, AJ now
recognized the depth of the young man's joy, understanding that, at that
moment, Tag had everything he'd hoped for.

"That smile," I pointed out, "it's the smile of someone who's living a
dream." The realization of Tag's unbridled happiness in that instant, just
before the tragedy that engulfed him, was striking.

In that snapshot of time, the image captured Tag's pinnacle of happiness,
one that bore an untold significance for him in his final days. It was the
memory he carried with him as he faced the unstoppable fury of Mauna Loa--a
smile framed by fulfillment and unfettered fandom.

"There's something more behind all this," I affirmed, revealing the
contents of the dream that had connected me to Steve's final thoughts.

As they heard about the somber revelation, the weight of his presumed
responsibility--to make amends with Pele herself--affected everyone. Nick
was visibly upset, grappling with the notion of a sacrifice so immense, so
final.

"It's not for us to pass judgment," I reminded them gently. "Tag's
reverence for the deities of Hawaii was profound, much like his father's
turned out to be."

Brian chimed in, lending credibility to my words. "I've had a few
discussions with Tag myself. His spiritual devotion was strong, akin to my
own faith."

AJ grappled with a tumult of emotions--mourning Tag's untimely demise while
harboring resentment toward Steve. "Are we expected to feel blamed?" he
questioned, his finger pointed at me. "If only you had been given a chance,
Mike. If only Sol could've stepped in sooner."

The frustration in his voice was palpable, a veneer for deeper sorrow. It
was understandable, especially upon learning that the life of an admirer--a
young man who expressed his fandom in pure joy--had been snuffed out. My
heart ached for AJ and for all of us; we stood united in the face of this
tragedy, each processing the loss in our own way, seeking a path through
grief and toward acceptance.

Collapsing onto the couch, the weight of the dialogue and the emotional
toll of the last few days bearing down, I opened up about my unexpected
encounter with Gaia.

"Gaia," Nick repeated, his interest piqued. "Why would she come to you
now?"

"She keeps an eye on things. I needed to step away, take a moment, and
speak with her--about everything that's happened," I explained, the words
spilling forth with the earnestness of someone relieved to share a burden.

"In that conversation, all the 'what ifs' played through my mind," I
continued. "The actions I could've taken had I been informed earlier, the
difference Sol might've made..." Reflecting on the discussion with Gaia was
like opening a floodgate of doubts and second guesses.

The band listened intently, understanding the deep connection between my
earthly responsibilities and the ethereal guidance of Gaia. Her presence in
my life was more than symbolic--it was a relationship that guided my
actions and provided solace when the outcomes sat heavily on my shoulders.

I looked around at the solemn faces of my companions, the gravity of Gaia's
counsel still fresh in me. "Gaia made it clear, and I need you guys to
understand this too--there are limits to what I, or Sol, can do. While Tag
and his father were on the slope, Sol was elsewhere, preventing a
catastrophic river of lava from claiming a school," I said, the sequence of
events laid down stark and simple.

I could see the gears turning in their heads, the realization settling that
no matter the scope of Sol's powers, they couldn't be omnipresent. The
fallout on the slope was happening concurrently with the unfolding disaster
at the school--a grim reminder that even as lives were being saved, others
were being irrevocably altered.

"The reality is, natural disasters will happen, with or without Sol. I was
where I was needed most at that moment, and I acted. But I couldn't be
everywhere," I continued, reinforcing Gaia's message of acceptance. It was
a hard truth, but one necessary for us all to grapple with as we faced the
natural calamities of our world.

Brian, ever the intuitive soul, grasped the essence of our
conversation. "What Gaia is saying... it's about our humanity, about the
inevitability of making mistakes," he extrapolated gently.

"Steve... he let arrogance cloud his judgment. The signs were
there--undeniable data, warnings from his peers--but he chose a different
path," I elaborated, shifting my gaze to AJ, whose righteous anger still
simmered.

"My parting words to Steve weren't of comfort or understanding--they were
harsh. He left with my disdain," I admitted. "AJ," I said, my voice
softened with empathy, "I know all too well the anger you're grappling
with."

At my words, AJ rose, leaving the space between us just for a moment before
Brian ushered him into my open arms. We embraced, a physical manifestation
of the emotional support we were both seeking, both offering.

One by one, each member of the band joined in, their actions as much about
solidarity as they were about shared healing. Together, we acknowledged the
complexity of the events that had unfolded. The volcano had claimed a life,
but it also served as an impetus to reflection and a renewed appreciation
for life.

We allowed ourselves to feel it all--the receding heat of anger, the
challenge of compassion. The moment reinforced an essential human truth: it
is easy to succumb to wrath, but it takes strength and vulnerability to
choose compassion, to choose to understand. We emerged from the embrace
quiet, contemplative, and unified.

The embrace broke, and we collectively inhaled the day--a new start, washed
clean of the darker reflections that had momentarily clouded our
gathering. With Rob's departure looming, we shifted our focus to the
triumph of the previous night's concert, the joy and unity it inspired in
the face of adversity. We threw ourselves into celebrating his company,
embracing the light that music and friendship cast upon our lives.

The time for farewells came all too swiftly, and as we made our way to the
airport, I couldn't resist lending a minor assist to ensure Rob's timely
departure. With a touch of unseen guidance, a mist descended, shrouding the
tarmac in secrecy fitting for a rockstar's exit. As Rob disappeared down
the jetway, the fog lifted as mysteriously as it had arrived, earning an
amused chuckle from Brian.

"Handy doesn't even begin to cover it," Brian said, clapping me on the
back. "Between saving the world and getting us through airport security,
you're a full-service superhero, Mike."

His laughter was a ringing endorsement of the shared camaraderie that
defined us, a band not just of musicians but of brothers, standing together
through every high note and every minor chord. That laughter, light and
clear, became a coda to the somber melodic interlude of our morning,
closing the chapter on loss and opening another, hopeful and resolute, as
we readied ourselves for the next verse.

"Really, it's no big deal," I downplayed my intervention with a peaceful
smile, even as the pulse of magic from the morning's fog lingered at my
fingertips.

The journey back to the hotel was quiet, the cityscape rolling past as we
shared the cab's confined space, each of us lost in our own
thoughts. Flashes from the dream returned to me, Steve La'Tola's last words
resonating with a sense of predestination, a suggestion that my becoming
the Guardian, transforming into Sol, was not just chance but something
anticipated by those who understood the old stories and prophecies.

Their belief that a great protector would arise in their hour of greatest
peril was woven into the fabric of their cultural heritage--this revelation
intrigued me. It stirred a sense of wonderment and no small degree of
questioning. Was my emergence as Sol indeed woven into the destiny of these
islands? What other fates, what other moments of crisis had been foreseen
by seers and storytellers?

As the cab halted at our hotel, these meditations lingered. They were
questions to ponder, perhaps to investigate, once we were back on familiar
ground. For now, the immediate task ahead awaited--returning to
Philadelphia. But the bigger picture, the sweeping arc of destiny and duty,
promised emerging chapters yet to be explored.

To be continued

This ends the Hawaiian adventure but there is more in store for our Hero as
he ventures back to Philadelphia.

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Please tell me what you think at3unit3@yahoo.com

All comments are welcome

I also recommend the following stories. It was because of them I got into
writing in the first place.

"Tales of a Real Dark Knight" by authorjames

"Marvel Knights" also by authorjames

 "Tales of the New Phoenix" by Blake

"Tales of a Superhero Band" by Leo

"Tales of a Young Mutant" by Jeremi

"Tales of a Thunder God" by Tony Justiss