I got to thinking one day about what the Gen13 and DV8 kids wouldhave been like if they'd been born in a world without superhumans. The real world. Our world. I guess the best way to describe these vignettes would be as Wildstorm Elseworlds. If you don't know DV8 and Gen13 you can still read these stories. Events from the comics have almost no bearing here. Think of them as snapshots of lives that could have been. If you do know the characters then you might get a bit more out of the stories. Note: In these stories everyone is about five years older than they are in the comics. I had to do that because otherwise they'd all be sitting around a high school or college. GEN13 Some people say that if you want to experience New York City, the real New York, then you have to go to Greenwich Village. It is said that in somewhere in this wild mix of the new, the old, the hip and the retro is were the real sprit of the Big Apple resides. Bobby Lane and Kenny McCormick had decided to find out if this was true for themselves. "God, Bobby, look at all this! I've never seen anything that was so...big!" exclaimed Kenny as he took in the Manhattan skyline. "This place sure isn't Boise," Bobby agreed. "But you've got to stop staring at the buildings. That's how people know you're a tourist. Do you want to get mugged?" "We're not tourists! We're musicians! That's what you, me and the rest of our band, Homage, are doing here. This is were we're going to kick off our first big tour. Remember what that record company guy said. If this thing is a success we'll be able to put out our first album! "Say, do you do you think the rest of the guys are going to mind us going off by ourselves?" "Nah, they'll find something to do. I still can't belive we're going on the road. Who'd have thought a bunch of guys from Idaho would ever be popular enough to tour the country?" "Hey, we paid our dues, Bobby! Remember all those times we'd drive to some club in Portland or Spokane only to end up playing for, like, thirty people?" "You're right, Kenny. We do deserve this! Say, I'm kinda hungry. You wanna get something to eat?" "Definitely! Look, that place over there seems decent. Let's try it," Minutes later the pair were seated in the Cardiac Café enjoying cappuccino and pastries. "Bobby, I think that girl over there is checking you out," whispered Kenny. Bobby turned and saw a girl of about 5'6 with dark hair looking at him. As their gazes meet her eyes jumped back to the open book lying on the table in front of her. "You're right, Kenny! I think she was checking me out!" "Man, go talk to her!" "Well, she is cute. Okay, I'll do it," Kenny watched Bobby get up and go over to the girl's table. He said something to her and she bade him to sit. "How does he do it?" wondered Kenny. "Whenever I try to talk to girls I just end up saying something stupid! But Bobby can sweep 'em of their feet with just a few words!" Meanwhile, over at the table, the girl was in deep conversation with Bobby. "Homage? That's an unusual name for a band. How'd you come up with it?" she asked. "It's a long story. Geez, all I've done is talk about myself. I don't know anything about you," said Bobby. "Well," began the girl, "I'm trying to be a writer. I do poetry, short stories and the like. Even thought about writing a play. I've been in a few really-off Broadway ones and I think I know what makes a good story. Of course, being a writer/actress doesn't pay much in this city so I work here as a waitress. You gotta pay the bills somehow." "Tell me about it. I used to work at Long John Silvers," smiled Bobby. "Okay, so I know what you do but you still haven't told me your name." "I didn't!?! How totally rude of me!" gasped the girl, letting her Southern California accent slip for the first time. "My name's Roxanne Spaulding. Everyone calls me Roxy," "Well, Roxy, my band is playing at Club X tonight and I was wondering if you'd like to see the show. I could leave your name at the door," "I don't have any plans for tonight. I'll be there!" "Awesome! Maybe we can get together after the show and do something." Roxy smiled at Bobby. "Sounds good to me." She then looked at her watch and stood up. "My shift just started. But I'll see you at the club. Later, handsome," Once Roxy was gone Kenny rushed over to Bobby. " She called you 'handsome!' That's a good sign I take it," "A incredible sign, man. She's coming to the club tonight." "I can tell by the look on your face you like her." "Cute, smart, creative. What's not to like, Kenny? But there was something else..." "What?" "I don't know," Bobby shook his head as if to clear it. "I just can't shake the feeling I've meet her before." "You mean, like, in a past life?" A still look passed over Bobby's face for a moment. "Yeah, Kenny, I think that's exactly what I mean." --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Caitlin Fairchild sighed. She looked out of her office window and down into the almost deserted parking lot of Halo Computers. It was 8:30 p.m. and Seattle was in the middle of yet another of it's famous downpours. "Why haven't I gone home yet?" she asked herself. Caitlin glanced at her desk which was covered with design plans for Halo's new CPU chip. The one everyone said was going to throw the entire industry on it's ear. Normally this was the kind of work Cat loved. "Why am I so depressed?" she wondered. "I've got all the things most people can only wish for. Halo hired me right out of Princeton and gave me a job with a starting salary that was more money that I ever dreamed of. Never mind the bonuses and skyrocketing stock shares. I've got an amazing apartment in Crane Towers, the most exclusive building in all of Seattle. My balcony has a view of the Space Needle that some people would kill for. I even just bought a new Jaguar! It's a little flashy for my tastes but what's the point of having money if you can't flaunt it a bit?" Caitlin sighed again and continued to stare out the window. "I don't get. I'm living the American Dream! So why am I so..... lonely?" she wondered. "No! Not lonely. Just... depressed. Yeah, depressed," shouted some far corner of her mind. "It's this horrible Seattle weather. After the new CPU is out I'll take a long vacation in Hawaii. That's all I need." Cat shook her head. "Whatever is really wrong with me I'm probably not going to figure it out tonight," she thought. Still, it took her twenty minuets to tear herself away from the window. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Located on the southern end of New York's 5th Avenue, Washington Square Park is a welcome spot of green in the urban jungle of Manhattan. Here students from nearby New York University and other city residents can come play chess, listen to street musicians, and watch acrobats, magicians and other street performers. It's also a great place for having those important talks with your friends. "Jane, you're my best friend and I love you so don't take this the wrong way when I say, ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" blared Roxanne Spaulding as she and her friend Jane Lane walked though the busy park. "No, I'm completely serious. I talked to the casting director and he thought you gave a amazing audition and were perfect for the part," proclaimed Jane. "Oh, yeah, I'm just prefect for the role of Marcy in some play based on that "Peanuts" cartoon strip. Who'd pay money to see something like that?" asked Roxy sarcastically. "Loads of people! This play, 'You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown', was a huge hit back in the 1970's. This revival already has a lot of people talking." "This thing was a hit? No way!" "Yes way, Roxy! If you pass on this you might be missing your big chance. Playing Marcy can only lead to better things. You know, I heard there just might be an opening in 'Grease' this fall." Roxy shot Jane a dirty look. "You just had to say that, didn't you? You know 'Grease' is my favorite Broadway show and that I'd give anything to be in it." Jane just smiled innocently. "All right, all right, I'll give that casting director guy a call!" "That's the spirit!" cheered Jane. "Trust me. You'll thank me for this someday, Roxy." "I'll probably bash you over the head with a shovel for this someday," Roxy grumbled as she looked down at her watch and sighed. "Sorry, Jane. But I'm going to have to hustle if I want to get to work on time." "Ah, the glamorous life of a coffee house waitress calls!" giggled Jane. Roxy shot her friend another dirty look. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Man, my life sucks!" yelled Percival Edmond Chang as he marched into the apartment he shared with his two roommates in San Diego's Pacific Beach district. "What's wrong, Grunge?" asked one of the roommates, Max Faraday, as he looked up from his computer. "Nick down at Phatboy hassling you again?" "Hey, Grunge! Next times you deliver some pies to a sorority party give me a call. I'm sure those girls would love a extra topping like yours truly!" called a voice from a nearby couch. "Ah, Deven Lawless. The man with a crude joke for every situation," sighed Max. Grunge choose to ignore Deven. "It's not just Nick, Max. I just don't feel like I'm doing anything with my life. I mean, I don't want to spend the rest of my life delivering pizzas for Phatboy." "Careful, don't hurt yourself with that heavy thought," teased Deven. "When I came down here from Seattle all I cared about was skating, partying, and babes," Grunge continued. "You don't seriously mean to imply that there are things in life more important than partying and babes do you?!" Deven gasped in mock horror. "Shut up, Dev!" hissed Max. "Can't you see Grunge is really down? We're his friends and it's our job to help him out. Go on, man," he bade Grunge. "Anyway, I just feel like I want to do something more....real with my life." Grunge paused for a second to think about what he had just said. "God, that didn't sound like me at all." Max smiled. "It's called growing up, man. Something I hope Dev will do before I turn forty." "Oh, that was cold, Max!" winced Deven. "Hey, I just thought of something that might help you out, Grunge." With that Max turned back to his computer. Soon he was handing Grunge some papers fresh from the printer. "What's this stuff?" "Some info on USD," Max explained. "They got five colleges there and I'm sure you'd like one of them." "Lordy, our little Grunge is going to be a college man!" gushed Deven impersonating an overexcited mother. "I appreciate the help, Max," started Grunge as he folded the papers and stuffed them in his pocket. "But I'm going to need some major alone time on this one. I'm going to grab my board, go out, and find some place to think." About an hour later Grunge was setting on a bench in the Pepper Grove section of Balboa Park staring at the papers Max had given him. "What the hell," he thought. "Can't hurt to just take a look at this stuff." He then spread the paper's out and began to read. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Ugh! This stuff is supposed to be coffee?!" growled Sarah Rainmaker as she stared at the liquid in her Styrofoam cup. "Don't let it get to you. Coffee is like that in every breakroom around the world. Why should it be any different here at the Aces and 8's Casino?" asked Sarah's best friend, Gail Whitehorse. Sarah sighed. "It's not just the coffee that's bothering me. It's just that this isn't were I expected to be at this point in my life. Still on the San Carlos Reservation, dealing blackjack at the tribes new casino." "Look, Sarah," began Gail, "you don't like dealing blackjack any more than I like working the roulette table. But remember, you and I are doing this for the same reason as all the other young people in the tribe. To get money to go to college so we don't get stuck here on the reservation for the rest of our lives. Another year and we'll both have the cash for Arizona State." "Yeah, I know. But still...another whole year?" sighed Sarah. "Don't be like that, girl. Hey, what say this weekend you and I--" Gail was interrupted by Ed Starraven sticking his head though the breakroom door. "Sorry to interrupt," he said "but Judy called in sick just now. Sarah, you'll have to be on table 16 in five minutes." Sarah heaved sigh. "Okay, Ed. Be right there." Ed's head disappeared and Sarah got up and headed for the door. "One more year, Sarah. One more year," reminded Gail. Sarah turned to her friend and managed a weak smile. "Yeah, one more year...." --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- DV8 Dr. Ethan Van Sciver loved his job at Miami's Queen of Mercy Hospital. The excitement, the energy and the drama were like a drug to him. He especially loved the feeling he got from saving a life. Of course, the money did not hurt one bit either. On the other hand, losing a patient and then breaking the news to a worried family was no picnic. Still, Van Sciver was a professional and had gotten as used to those things as a person could. But this part of the job was never easy. Telling someone that their life as they knew it was over. Part of him thought the guy had gotten what he deserved. After all, just days ago Van Sciver's patient had been out on the streets, selling drugs to kids, gang banging, and who knew what else. But the part of him that was a doctor pitied the young man for the trials he had ahead of him. Dr. Van Sciver then took a deep breath, prepared himself, and entered his patients room. "Mr. Morales? Are you awake?" he asked. The eyes of the man in the bed fluttered open. He coughed and in a raspy voice replied, "Yeah, I'm awake. Were am I? What happened?" "You're at Queen of Mercy Hospital. You were shot several times during a gang fight." "Oh, right. My crew was rumbling with the Doom Soldiers." Morales seemed to be about to say more when a puzzled expression passed over his face. "Hey, doc. I feel weird. How bad am I hurt?" "It's time. Best be up-front about it," thought Dr. Van Sciver. "Mr. Morales, I'll be blunt. You were shot five times. One of the bullets severely damaged your spinal cord. I'm afraid you'll never walk again." The doctor stood back and waited for whatever emotional outburst his the young man might have. Van Sciver, sadly, had been through many situations like this and was prepared for what would happen next. Or so he thought. But then Hector Morales simply closed his eyes and began to cry. Van Sciver almost begun to tell his patient that he could lead a very full life from a wheelchair but he knew now was not the time. He could always come back later. After all, his patient wasn't going anywhere. The doctor quietly exited the room so that Morales could be alone with his sorrow. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was supposed to be an empty warehouse on the Boston waterfront. However, on this night it was anything but empty. Inside over 300 young people were in the middle of one of the wildest raves in the history of Beantown. There was alcohol in their veins, music in their ears and fun on there minds. One of these wild Bohemians I was named Gem Antoneli. "Life is sweet!" she thought as she swayed her body in time to the Orbital tune blasting though the P.A. "Nothing big is due at school for weeks. I can thrash and not worry about anything." Having danced for over 35 minuets straight Gem decided a break was in order. She walked off the dancefloor, leaned against a wall and watched the other ravers move to the pounding beat. It was in these times, fully wrapped in the chaos of life, that Gem felt she could truly think. "It's doesn't get much better that this!" she thought. "Here I am, just a few months out of high school and I'm having the time of my life. Deciding to go to college in Boston was a smart move. The party scene isn't what it was back home but I have more freedom here that I ever had when I was in L.A. Of coarse, the whole college education thing ain't bad ether." Gem continued to watch the people dance. "I've have freedom, fun and my education. Life is defiantly SWEET!" It was then that a Gravity Kills tune began to play. Feeling refreshed Gem rocketed to the dancefloor. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Officer John Leeson of the Newark, New Jersey police stared at the man in the cell with a strong sense of satisfaction. "One very nasty piece of dirt off the streets," he thought. "Hey, punk. How do you like your new digs?" mocked Leeson. "The room service sucks but the cockroaches in the toilet do add a lot to the atmosphere," growled the prisoner. "Ha, ha. You're a regular Jerry Seinfeld. Maybe after you get out of jail NBC will give you your own sitcom. I'm sure they won't mind waiting 25 to 30 years." "If I ever do get my own show I promise you it'll be funnier than "Caroline in the City" or whatever turd is floating around on the UPN and WB networks this week." "That's right, trash. Keep up the jokes. We both know you ain't gonna see the light of day for a long time," growled Leeson. "Oh, and don't dump on the WB. The boys down here at the station get a real kick, no pun intended, out of Buffy the Vampire Slayer". "Well, now isn't that just special?" giggled the man in the cell. "Listen, filth!" flared Leeson "We got you on assault, attempted murder, drug trafficking, extortion, arson, burglary, armed robbery, resisting arrest, assaulting a police officer and a whole slew of other charges! Now get this through your head, maggot! Michael Heller is going to jail and he's going to rot there!" "If it helps you sleep at night then keep telling yourself that, Leeson. I'll be back out on the street someday. Madder, badder and deadlier that ever!" snickered the prisoner "Maybe once I'm out I'll look up you and your family." Leeson stormed out of the cellblock with Heller's words burning in his ears. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My name is Glenda Ginther and I'm watching the most amazing thing I have ever seen in all my sixteen years. I'm on the gymnastics team at Central High School in Denver, Colorado. One of my teammates, Crystal Cohen, has an uncle who is an administrator at the U.S. Olympic Training Center up in the Rocky Mountains outside of town. He arranged for us to come watch some members of the Women's Gymnastics Team practice. The girl I'm watching now is doing things on the rings that should be impossible. Of course, being able to do the impossible is probably what got her the reputation of being the best since...well, anyone. "God, Julie, can you believe how good she is?" I say to one of my teammates. "She's fantastic! Look at her red, white, and blue outfit. I wish our uniforms looked like that!" Julie replies. "I can't believe I'm watching someone who's going to the Olympics. The whole world is going to be watching her. To bad none of us will ever get the kind of chance she has," says Crystal. "Speak for yourself," I say. "I'm going to go be on the Olympic team some day!" "You girls seem very taken with our little star. Would you like to met her?" asks a voice from behind us. I turn to see a man in red, white and blue sweats smiling at us. I recognize him as Chris White, coach of the Women's Gymnastics Team. "YES!" the whole team shouts at once. I turn in time to see the girl do a perfect 10 point dismount from the rings. Behind me Coach White calls to her, "That's enough for now. Come over here. There are some people who want to meet you." She casually walks over and says, "Hi. What did all of you think of my routine?" Somehow I manage to say, "Incredible!" Coach White goes and stands by the girl. "Ladies, I'd like you all to meet Jaclyn Davis. She's the one who's going to win the good old U.S. of A a ton of medals at the next Olympic games!" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Is Travis going to all right, Coach Carver?" asked the a youthful voice. "Yes, Tony, he'll be fine," Carver replied as he completed his examination of the young football player's leg. "It's just a sprain. He'll be able to play on Friday." "Are you sure?" persisted Tony. "Trust me. When I was working on my teaching degree I took a few sports medicine classes so I could get a coach's license. Now I can treat can treat a broken leg and list all the major battles of World War One." Carver then stood up and called to the other members of the Northside Middle School football team. "Okay, that's practice for today. Now, hit the showers all of you. Tony, you help Travis back to the locker room." Carver watched as the kids headed back into the school. "I wonder if these kids have any idea how lucky they are?" he thought. "I'd give just about anything to be able to play football again. But considering how bad I blew my knee out in my senior year at Howard University it's not likely I'll ever be able to run a touchdown again." Carver looked back on the memory of realizing that he would never be able to play again with a strong bitterness. "It just wasn't fair," he thought. "I had all the big guys from the NFL just dying for me to sign up with them. I was going to have it all. Money, fame, women, cars and anything else I could dream of. And then, in one second, I'm on the receiving end of a bad tackle, my knee busts and my career is over. I was a guy who could have been king of the world! And now what am I? A football coach and history teacher at some junior high school in the Washington DC suburbs." Carver shook his head as if to clear it. "No. I will not feel sorry for myself!" he promised. "I've got a good job, a nice apartment, and the kids seem to like me. It feels good to give these kids some of the attention I never got from my folks," he proclaimed. "I deserved to get that broken leg. If I'd keep up like I was going I'd have just ended up some arrogant, selfish, money-grubbing, jerk!" For a long while Carver just stood on the football field looking at the school. "Not a bad life, is it?" he said to the empty field. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Come on, Grant! Haul butt! We aren't out on a Sunday drive, you know!" "Dammit, Rachel, I'm a cameraman not a racecar driver! Also, this is downtown Chicago, not the Indianapolis 500!" "I don't want excuses, Grant, I want to get where I have to go. So haul it!" "I'm hauling! I'm hauling!" growled Grant as he swung the van around a corner. "After all, I sure would hate to keep Rachel "Danger Girl" Goldman waiting." "No, you wouldn't. And don't call me that. "Danger Girl" is the name the media stuck on me after that mess at the Sears Tower." That "mess" has made you into a hometown hero. That "mess" is being turned into a movie of the week. Yeah, it's going to be on CBS but you can't have everything." "Don't remind me. I can't believe they're going to have that blonde girl from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" play me! She's much shorter than I am." Grant smiled as he stepped on the gas and sent the van flying though a yellow light. "I can see it now, Rachel Goldman, ordinary journalism major and a few of her film student buddies are at the Windy City's most famous landmark getting a few shots for a documentary project they're doing. Suddenly, some nut-job with a gun bursts onto the scene. "Seems his girlfriend, who works in the tower, left him and he isn't happy about it. He wants to persuade her to come back to him so he takes some hostages to make sure she'll listen. Under those circumstances most people would crack. "But not Miss Goldman! She convinces one of her friends to play cameraman and then she actually talks the lunatic into giving her an interview. She still has a microphone in the guy's face when the S.W.A.T. team storms the building and busts the wacko. Once the cops are squared away Miss Goldman and her tapes end up on every TV station from London to Cairo to Tokyo! Presto! "Danger Girl" Goldman is born!" "Presto?" Rachel snorted. "I busted my butt to graduate early and land a job as a reporter for WGEN. Now step on it, Grant! There's a huge fire at the docks and I want to be on the scene first! And don't ever mention the words "Danger Girl" to me again!" "Whatever you say.....Danger Girl." --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The phone was ringing. "Please, whoever it is, say on the line for just a few more seconds!" thought Nicole Callahan as she struggled to get the key into the lock without dropping the five heavy books in her arms. At last she was successful and she burst into her dorm room, tossed her books on her roommate's bed, and leaped for the phone. "Hello!" she gasped. "Hey, sis. Took you long enough," teased the voice on the other end of the call. Nicole sighed annoyingly at her brother in the way only a little sister can. "Hi, Matt." "So, how's the most talented student/designer/model at the prestigious Du Beaumorchias Academy doing?" "I'm great. But remember, I'm only doing the modeling thing on the side. Living in Paris isn't cheap. Even for someone with a full scholarship. Were are you? Still at Ft. Baker?" "No, the Base Commander gave me leave. Thought I'd go into the city and have some fun." "Well, if anyone deserves the downtime it's you, big brother. After all, life in the Air Force can't be all wine and roses." "Come on, Nicole! You know I love being in the service as much as you love designing clothes," Matt laughed. "Yeah, I know you love the bad food, uncomfortable bunks, and marching for miles in the rain as much as I enjoy gourmet cuisine, hanging with the stars of the fashion world, and living in Paris, the City of Lights!" "Marching in the rain is great! Really. Anyway, how's the new roommate?" "She's nice. I'm just happy her first language is English. I have to put up with her Canadian accent but that's okay. She's defiantly an improvement over that German girl. She and I didn't get along from Day One." "Glad to hear things are working out." "Say, you said you were in the city. How is St. Louis this time of year?" "A little warm for late October. Oh, I almost forgot! Mom and dad want to know if you'll be home for the holidays." Nicole sighed. "Thanksgiving, no. I have finals that week. But I'll be home for Christmas!" "Christmas? I managed to get leave for Christmas. Wow! This is going to be the first time both of us have been home at the same time in months. I gotta call mom and dad! They'll flip!" "Don't let me keep you. Just tell them I love them, okay?" "No problem." "Okay, bye then. Oh, and Matt, I love you to." "Love you to, sis. Bye." The End