Millennium Man #1:
"Restoration"
by Jacob Milnestein

He stood alone, rain and sweat running through the short, cropped blonde hair and down his face, the costume weighted with the accumulating rain.

Beneath him stretched the vast expanse of ocean and the red sand of the cliff upon which he stood.

It had been several weeks now, several weeks and yet still he was unable to force the events from his mind.

The other superhero did not even have the time to scream, the intensity of the heat burnt the skin from his disintegrating skull and boiled the blood that spurted upward from his crippled body.

Silently the sun-bolt moved onwards, having obliterated Todd's body from the torso upwards it eventually crashed into the gathered representatives of the Imperial Magistrate's army, turning them to ash on the spot.

The expression that the other Bruce Todd had worn was forever etched into his memory.

Yet it was not sorrow that currently coursed through his veins and clouded his vision but rather a feeling much more akin to rage and jealousy.

During his struggle with the Imperial Magistrate, Michael Manly had been forced to confront certain truths that had changed his life forever.

The evidence of the damage that had been dealt to him by the villain, ShadowWraith had been but the very tip of the iceberg. Whilst that physical damage had been repaired, the uncomfortable truth that lay behind it was not as easy to dismiss.

He was not supposed to be Millennium Man, that much he knew for certain.

Yet despite this painful realisation, the discovery of a Millennium Man prior to him, a Millennium Man who had been revealed as Victoria Burke's father, the late Henry Burke III was the most painful. Ever since he had received his powers, Manly had truly believed himself to be chosen by some higher force. With the uncomfortable knowledge that Burke was once Millennium Man and that the mantle had been intended for Bruce Todd, Manly had since become uncertain of his role in the vast unfolding cosmic plan.

He knew that he wanted to be Millennium Man, that he enjoyed it in fact but somehow, at the back of his mind, he also knew that he was not worthy.

Silently he turned away from the cliff-face, the additional cloak he had added to the costume's design swirling at his feet and trailing along the harsh rock upon which he walked.

High above the sun was fading, the conclusion to yet another day.

Pacific City had been a nightmare to patrol as of late.

The destruction the Imperial Magistrate had inflicted upon the cosmopolitan metropolis had done much to weaken the populace's resolve. Despite his best efforts, the crime rate seemed to consistently increase. If they weren't careful then Pacific City could very easily end up in the same state of affairs as Harbour City.

He shuddered at the thought.

He had only been to Harbour City once before, it had not been a particularly pleasant experience.

During the '80s he had heard that the city was patrolled by the phantom like figure of the Grim Knight. He had never paid much attention to superheroes then, suffice to say that he wasn't overly enthusiastic about the Knight's reputation for an incredibly vicious sense of justice.

When he had received his powers as Millennium Man, the Grim Knight had already vanished, yet he had been incredibly cautious not to emulate those darker heroes in any way, shape or form. They were the antithesis of what he believed in, the dark, nightmarish underbelly fashioned more from the mind of psychopaths and deviants than upstanding citizens.

In some ways he was comforted slightly that Henry Burke had thought along similar lines.

Once Burke's daughter had defeated the Magistrate, Manly had been able to converse at lengths with Charlie and Shirley Winters. They had filled him in on much of the details he felt he was missing.

It was not with a small amount of pride that Manly realised that both his own and Henry Burke's visions of the duties of a Science Hero were almost identical.

Thunder rolled through the darkening sky, an astounding crack of forked lightening behind him.

Again the image of Majestic Man, that familiar face perverted by rage and envy.

With a sudden burst of energy Manly launched himself into the sky, his soaking clothes struggling to keep him anchored to the earth.

Screaming at the top of his lungs, he unleashed sun-bolt after sun-bolt onto the cliff below him, pummelling the rock with the increasing size and force of his blast.

A resounding crack and the cliff crumbled, rolling out into the sea yet still Manly inflicted his rage upon the dead earth.

A moment passed and gradually he came to a halt, panting for breath, barely able to maintain his position in the sky.

Defeated he sunk once more to the ground, the ruins of the cliff ominous in the background.

Still he was nowhere near reaching the kind of power that Majestic Man had displayed.

Painfully, he hauled himself up from his knees. He no longer had enough energy to fly back into the city.

Grunting as he placed one foot in front of the other, Michael Manly began the long walk home.

Jim Finnegan nursed his glass of whiskey, dull eyes watching the flickering television screen yet somehow failing to really take it all in.

He had never really been a heavy drinker, not until recently that was.

During his college years, Finnegan had naturally been excluded from the machinations of fraternal college life. He had simply been incapable of fitting in. He had been called many things in his life, geek, nerd, anorak to name but a few of them and in all honesty he had never really cared.

So how did he end up in his mid-thirties with a receding hairline and a life that seeming was heading for nowhere fast?

Quietly he lifted the glass of whiskey to his dry lips once more and wincing in pain as he gulped it down.

In disgrace, he returned the glass to its sentinel like place amongst the clutter of the coffee table.

God, how he wished he was drunk right now.

The beaming features of that hateful Darling woman illuminated the television set once more.

He squinted, trying to focus on the lines of her face, hoping to find some kind of imperfection there but came away disappointed.

She was the cause of all this. With her crude gossip and inciting rumours Regina Darling had rocketed to the top of the ratings, knocking The Manly Side flat on its backside for the first time in the show's history.

And now their new employer, the oh, so prim and proper Victoria Burke was considering cancelling the show leaving Finnegan facing the possibility of redundancy.

Yet deep inside he knew that it wasn't just Darling and Burke that were in on the scheme to force him out of the one job he had ever truly enjoyed.

Manly was in on it too.

Good old, dependable Mikey was just as responsible for this as they were.

If Manly hadn't screwed up so badly over the past few weeks then Burke wouldn't even be considering cancellation and Darling wouldn't have got a foot in the door.

And to think he had ever looked up to that irresponsible jerk.

A year ago, when Millennium Man had first appeared on the scene things had been perfect. The costumed hero of Pacific City had always agreed to do interviews with KGPC first and foremost before the other networks. There was the unspoken rule that if something big was going down then it was KGPC's God-given right to get the first look in.

Somehow Manly had found a way of contacting Millennium Man and, whilst he had never interviewed the hero himself, Manly always seemed to have a knack for getting the Pacific City protector onto the city's television screens via KGPC.

Millennium Man had become like an unofficial employee of KGPC, why, Finnegan himself had even spoken to the big guy a few times, building up a good relationship with the Science Hero.

Before any of those others turned up, Mysteria, Silver Shadow and all of them, Millennium Man had been the brightest star in Pacific City and KGPC had always been in on the story as it broke.

It was Millennium Man himself who had saved Finnegan's life from the jaws of danger several times.

Over the past year Finnegan had come to think of himself as Millennium Man's pal.

Yet recently Millennium Man had become more and more reclusive, avoiding the cameras he had once adored and shying away from media attention.

Such an abrupt change of attitude had signalled the slow decline of KGPC and of Michael Manly, and everyone near him. They were all going to lose their jobs because Manly couldn't persuade the big 'M' to do interviews anymore.

The sudden and abrupt rapping of knuckles upon his front door awoke him from his silent meditation.

Dazed, Finnegan pulled his aching body from the comfort of his armchair and moved over to the front door of his apartment and undid the lock.

"Who is it?" He called out, more from the force of habit than anything.

"Its Tracy." The voice from behind the door answered.

Sighing he opened the door and looked upon the quiet, withdrawn features of The Manly Side's producer, Tracy Newman.

"Jesus, you look terrible, Jim." She announced. "Can I come in?"

Wearily he gestured for her to enter.

"Knock yourself out." He muttered, returning to his chair.

From behind him he could hear the sounds of Tracy pottering amongst the pots and pans of the apartment's cramped kitchen.

"Tea or coffee?" She called to him.

"Coffee." He answered, glancing resentfully at the empty whiskey glass. "Black."

A long moment passed before Tracy finally re-emerged, carrying two mugs of steaming hot coffee.

She looked at him.

"I was going to say that you might want to sit yourself down for this," She glanced sourly at the empty glass and half-drunk bottle of whiskey. "But it already looks like you have."

"Give me a break, Tracy." He grumbled, thankfully accepting the mug of coffee.

She flicked the television off and sat down opposite him.

"I've got some bad news, Jim." She said quietly. "The Manly Side has been cancelled. I just got out of a meeting with Our Lady of the Infinite Riches and she claims that we're just not pulling our weight anymore. Said she didn't want to do it but the show just wasn't holding the viewers’ attention anymore."

Finnegan groaned, his worst fears confirmed.

"Has she spoke to Michael yet?" He asked.

Newman shook her head, shoulder length blonde hair swaying with the movement.

She was an attractive woman, Finnegan thought, although far too familiar, he decided. But then again, what did he know? He hadn't had a girlfriend since school and Tracy had always enforced the pretence of being quite happily married.

"No, not yet. She said she wanted to talk to him personally."

Finnegan sighed loudly.

"Well that's us screwed then. I wonder how the golden boy will take it."

"Don't be so pessimistic." Tracy snapped impatiently. "We're being reassigned to some new youth magazine programme so don't you start getting all prissy. Its Michael that's got the real raw deal out of all this."

"Serves him right." Finnegan muttered. "If he hadn't screwed the show up so badly by going missing then we wouldn't even be facing this situation."

"Don't you listen to me at all?" Tracy snapped. "You still get to play with your stupid little toys. You've been reassigned – reassigned meaning not out of a job."

"Joy." Finnegan replied sarcastically. "A youth magazine programme. What could be more exciting? If Manly hadn't screwed us all over we'd still have our old jobs."

"There's a lot going on in Michael's life that you don't know about, Jim. Christ, give him a break. The man's just undergone surgery."

"Poor, poor Mikey Manly." Finnegan said with mock sympathy. Suddenly, as if animated by some suddenly discovered new source of motivation he leant forwards, almost spilling hot coffee all over his lap. "Doesn't it strike you as odd, Tracy? How does someone like Manly get brain damage? What happened in his life to cause such sudden and significant damage to his head? This is the most pretentious and well-manicured man in Pacific City, remember. What did he do, hit his head on the bathroom cabinet or something?"

"Shut up, Jim. You're just looking for someone to blame now." Tracy said, turning away.

"You're damn right I'm looking for someone to blame. We're stuck on some stupid teenage youth magazine show because that stuck up jerk bashed his head on a doorframe or something. There's something he's not telling us, Tracy, something big."

"Christ, do you have any sense of compassion at all?" She snapped, turning back to look at him. "God forbid I ever have to turn to you for help."

His face flushed red.

"That's different." He mumbled. "Seriously though, something's not right with Manly. First he seemingly loses contact with Millennium Man and then both of them seem to go missing for prolonged periods of time."

"What are you trying to say, Jim? Are you trying to tell me that Michael's Millennium Man?" She scoffed bitterly.

"Of course not. That floundering idiot couldn't save himself from a bad hair day let alone a city from an invasion. But there's something odd there. You want to know what I think?"

She rolled her eyes slightly.

"What do you think, Jim?"

"I think they're gay." He said, leaning back with pride.

Tracy Newman laughed loudly.

"That's the most stupid thing I've heard all day. Why is it that people are so obsessed with the sexuality of superheroes? It's like they're the new celebrities or something. We, and especially us because we're part of the media, force them into corners where they have no choice but to publicly define their sexual preference and if its not something they like, then we force them to pack up their bags and leave. There's a reason these superheroes don't fly around using their real names."

"Bruce Todd was gay." Finnegan announced as if that was all there was to be said on the matter.

"And?" She questioned.

"And he kept it a secret. All those rich, fat cats and caped crusaders, they owe us, Tracy. We have a right to know which way they swing."

"Why?" She questioned bluntly.

He faltered.

"Christ, Jim, I never knew you were this narrow minded." She rose abruptly from her seat, leaving her coffee untouched. "Get some sleep, Jim and for God's sake clean yourself up."

Finnegan said nothing, he simply watched her leave, cold distant eyes following her across the room.

She may not believe him now but soon she'd have to.

Soon everyone would have to.

Quietly he sipped his coffee and smiled knowingly to himself.

The city spread out before him, its vast scars still visible.

Yet with every day that passed they seemed to take a step closer to the restoration of normal life. He felt guilty for being unable to help out with the reconstruction directly after the Imperial Magistrate's assault but it was his own serious condition that had prevented him from acting.

Weeks had passed since then and despite the fact that he knew he shouldn't be pushing himself he had felt an urge to atone for the destruction of the otherworldly forces that had been brought upon the city. And so he had been making an effort to help with the reconstruction, appearing before the television cameras once more.

It had been a day since his ordeal on the cliff face and a week since he had last walked the city streets as Michael Manly.

Looking down at the gathered crowds of spectators and reporters a slight frown crossed his face. For the life of him he couldn't see Jim or Tracy anywhere, in fact there were no cameras from KGPC present anywhere.

He made a mental note to check in on them both once the city was back on its feet and he felt well enough to return to his ‘real’ job.

As he ferried a large iron girder from one construction site to another at the opposite end, he became aware of the presence of another, racing at super-speed across the rooftops of the buildings.

A discoloured blur passed him by with a gust of wind that unsettled his cloak. Eventually the movement slowed down and as he finally approached his destination he became aware of the solitary figure of Charlie Winters standing atop the scaffolding.

"Ho there." Winters beamed, lighting a cigarette.

Despite himself, Manly found himself smiling.

For all the evils the Faustian Four had inflicted upon the world, he still couldn't find it in his heart to deal with Winters and his wife in the fashion they so rightfully deserved. Once you got to know them the two fugitives seemed to grow on you.

So far both of them had stayed true to their promise of turning over a new leaf and had actually been helping out with the city's reconstruction more than Manly himself had been able to. He was still somewhat suspicious and at the back of his mind was the possibility that the two remaining members of the Faustian Four might grow tired of their return as superheroes and that if such a thing happened then he would be forced to confront them.

But so far there had been no signs of such a thing happening.

Winters nodded, his long trenchcoat trailing over the scaffolding's edge.

Now there was a bone of contention.

Despite the reprisal of their roles as superheroes, Charlie and Shirley Winters had still refused to assign themselves ‘code-names’ or dress in costumes which was, as far as Manly was concerned, a direct violation of the way things should be done.

Briefly he wondered if they had ever had superhero identities. They must have, surely, for he knew for certain that they once had costumes.

"How's it going, Mikey, me boy?" Winters called.

Manly quickly disposed of the girder and flew up to where Winters was standing.

"Don't call me that in public." He hissed. "People will work out who I am."

A smile containing all the elegance of a bruise filled Winters’ face.

"You big girl's blouse. If you were worried about people working out who you are then you'd get a sodding mask. Or do you expect people to just assume its coincidence that Manly and Millennium Man both went skinhead at the same time."

"I'm not going skinhead." Manly replied, embarrassed. "They had to shave my head to operate."

"Speaking of which, are you sure its such a bright idea you prancing around in the old spandex so soon after." Winters said. "Though I must admit I do like the cape."

"Thank you." Manly answered, blushing again. "I made it myself."

"And it suits you." Winters answered, pausing to take a drag on his cigarette. "You big flaming poof."

A look of hurt crossed Manly's face as he realised Winters had been making fun of him.

"Oh, Christ, don't start crying because I took the piss out of your cape." Winters snapped, rolling his eyes.

"Look, what is it that you want, Charlie?" Manly said abruptly.

"Touched a raw nerve did I?" Winters smirked and exhaled. "Seriously though, mate, me and the missus were just a tad worried about you, that's all. We know you've got the constitution of an ox but you took a fair beating from Majestic Man and having an operation on your brain an’ all cant have contributed to you feeling on top of the world like you're trying to act." He paused and looked Manly in the eye. "Unless you've just had a shag, in which case I take it all back and you're more than entitled to that glowing presence you're trying to win your audience over with."

"My personal life is none of your business." Manly answered angrily.

Winters looked at him for a moment.

"Well," He finally announced. "That counts out the shag theory, I guess." Abruptly he looked away. "I think someone's trying to get your attention."

Manly looked down at the collected reporters below.

A sudden gust of wind unsettled his cloak once more and suddenly Winters was on the ground, shaking hands and talking to the reporters.

Slowly Manly began to descend, groaning slightly as he finally realised who Winters was talking to.

"Millennium Man," A voice purred. "We really have to stop meeting like this."

"Good morning, Miss Darling." Manly said through gritted teeth.

Charlie Winters seemed to be fishing through his coat pockets, desperately in search of something.

"Care to do an exclusive interview with PCN?" Darling questioned, thrusting the microphone into his face.

"Not just yet, Miss Darling." Manly muttered. "There's still much to attend to."

"Please," Regina smiled, batting her eyelids. "Just call me 'darling'."

"Ah-ha!" Winters proclaimed triumphantly, holding a small card up before passing it over to Regina Darling. "Here you go, love, this is me card. Its got our hotel room and everything on it if you, you know, want to pop over when the wife's out doing the shopping or something."

She glanced disdainfully down at the card before passing it back.

"No thank you, Mister Winters, I'm only interested in real superheroes." She said sourly.

Winters looked crestfallen.

"I am a real superhero." He muttered to himself. "Proper first generation and everything."

Michael Manly did all he could to suppress his laughter.

"So, Millennium Man," Regina continued, ignoring Winters’ comments. "What have you got planned after your majestic defeat of the alien invaders several weeks ago?"

He flinched at the use of the word ‘majestic’.

"Well, ah, in all honesty, Miss Darling, I cant take all the credit for that victory." He answered, resigning himself to an interview with the forceful young woman reporter. "If it wasn't for Mysteria…"

"Yeah, yeah." She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "We all know about Mysteria. But let's move on to more important matters. We heard you were fighting an angel, is that true? How did you defeat her?"

A sudden realisation jarred his mind, flooding his very being with a sense of bewilderment and confusion.

The long blonde hair, the all-consuming arrogance…

Quickly he forced the thought from his mind.

"I really cant comment any further, Miss Darling. There's still much that needs to be done. Good day."

Quickly he ascended back into the air, disappearing into the skies above.

"Well," Regina Darling said, angrily. "How do you like that?"

Jim Finnegan sat alone in his living room, the curtains drawn so that no light could filter through.

A day's worth of stubble adorned his face.

Tomorrow they began filming on the new youth magazine programme. He had no intention of showing up. The last thing he needed was being degraded to such an extent.

Jim Finnegan had better ideas.

On the television screen, Millennium Man stood smiling and talking freely with that abominable Darling woman.

"So, you're back." Finnegan whispered, venomously glaring at the small PCN logo in the bottom left hand corner of the screen. "Well by the time I'm through with you, you'll be wishing you'd stayed away. You let us down Millennium Man. You let me down. I was supposed to be your pal and you let me down. You'll pay for that, trust me you will."

Quietly he surveyed the row of empty whiskey bottles on the table and the day old coffee Tracy had left behind.

A smile cracked his unshaven features and Jim Finnegan closed his eyes.

The future was so perfect he could almost taste it.

Strawberries and peaches and the running blood of pristinely perfect Pacific City protector.

Yes, the future was perfect.

Silently, Jim Finnegan prepared himself for the events that lay ahead, that hideous smile fixed to his face.

For the time in a long while things were finally going right for him.

The future was coming up roses.