#7 - "Picking Up The Pieces"

James Sculley could see the sun beginning to peek over the horizon outside the window. He didn't sleep very long and was eager to delve into the boxes of personal possessions that he and Whitney had located at his father's house.

It was past eleven when they made it back to Whitney's Santa Monica apartment. They unloaded the boxes into the spare guestroom that Jim was currently occupying. The two chatted for a few hours and then turned in. But sleep was something that Jim didn't need and he was up before too long. The contents of the boxes were the greatest interest to him. Perhaps they would trigger more of his lost memories.

The first box held mostly fantasy and science fiction magazines. The next had computer disks, several notebooks, and a multitude of envelopes. The disks were labeled 'short stories' and numbered. There were nine of these in all. The notebooks mostly contained story ideas, outlines, and other miscellaneous notes about his writing endeavors.

The envelopes were much more interesting. Jim had even gone to the trouble of numbering them. He started at the beginning and began to read their contents. The first was a typical rejection letter. "We regret to inform you that your story is not exactly what we were looking for", and so on. The first was dated in the spring of 1983.

Apparently, Jim had already tried his hand at writing fiction well over a year before his disappearance. The next two dozen envelopes were more rejection slips for his work. Finally, he had a short story accepted by a fantasy magazine. His work had made it into print!

Jim continued through the stack of letters. Most were rejection slips, but more sales were sprinkled in as well. By the time of his disappearance Jim had seen twenty of his short stories make it to print.

Going back to the box of magazines, Jim shifted through them and found that they were indeed the ones that had published his work, although he had used the name JC Sculley for his stories. He sampled a few of the stories and found them to his liking. "Not terrible," he thought to himself. "Could use a little polishing, though." The quality of the tales did improve with the later works. "Jim, my boy, you just might have a career here. The disks must hold the hard copies of what I've written so far. But I'll have to get a computer to check them out."

The last few letters were from prospective literary agents. Now that he had cracked into the market, writing novels and getting an agent was the next step. The only letter that really got his attention was from one Rachel Moret. Jim made a note to call Ms. Moret when he was ready to take another stab at his writing career.

Another box held miscellaneous pictures and scrapbooks. One held newspaper clippings of articles Jim had written. "I'm a regular pack rat," he thought. "Saving everything of mine that made it to print."

Another album held pictures and clippings of a more personal nature. Graduation pictures and many, many pictures of Whitney. There were also photos of his immediate family. One batch was from the graduation of his sister, Stephanie, from law school. Other ones were of his brother Bryan's high school graduation. These ones were dated in the spring of 1984.

The remaining boxes were more personal effects. Jim's diploma from UCLA, original writing awards from high school, and various high school and college yearbooks.

One newspaper clipping did give Jim reason to pause. It was dated in January of 1984. It seemed innocent enough, at first. The Los Angeles hero team, the Guardians, was trying to stop a plot hatched by the Conquerors. An explosion took place atop a downtown skyscraper showering the streets with debris. One Helen Sculley was struck by a falling wall and killed. Helen was Jim's mother....

"You're certainly up early." Jim was startled and turned towards the sound of the voice. Standing in the doorway was Whitney.

"I didn't hear you get up," he responded.

"I'm not surprised. You were really engrossed in whatever you were looking at."

"I couldn't sleep much," Jim explained, "so I started to sort through the boxes we grabbed from my dad's house."

"Find anything interesting?"

"A couple of things. It appears that I had been doing some writing. Even had some short stories published in magazines." Jim indicated the stack of periodicals on the floor.

"That's great!" Whitney came over and sat down next to Jim on the bed. "That always was your dream."

"There are a few things that I can't figure out, though."

"Perhaps I can help."

Jim turned and looked at the lovely Ms. Parks. "Why did we ever break up?"

The question caught Whitney off guard. She turned away, and answered without looking back. "I'm honestly not sure. You just stopped coming around one day... I blamed myself for a long time. I almost called you once or twice, but then I just didn't know what to say." She glanced at him a moment and then looked away again.

"I see..." Jim was surprised that he did something so stupid as that. But he couldn't remember it at all, so maybe he did. "Was this in the spring of '84?"

"Yes it was."

"It was around when my mom died and when I started being published. I guess that between being a reporter and my writing, I buried myself in my work to avoid thinking about what happened to my mother. In the process I cut you out of the loop..." Jim reached out towards Whitney and touched her cheek. She turned to face him, a single tear running down the side of her face. "That man was a real jerk."

"Yes he was," Whitney agreed. The two them gazed at each other and then embraced.

"I'm sorry, oh-so sorry," Jim said, trying to apologize for the past. He wished he could wipe those events away as easily as they had been erased from his mind.

"I always thought that I did something wrong, something to offend you... I didn't understand."

"From a fresh perspective, I can not blame you one bit. I can't undo the things I did, but I would like to make up for them. Provided you are willing?"

"I think I like the new you," Whitney said after a contemplative pause. "You're a lot nicer than you used to be, you know."

"Thanks. I think. Like I said, I have a new perspective on things now. Looking at events without a strong emotional attachment can make you realize things that you didn't notice before."

"That makes sense," Whitney said, wiping the tear from her face with the back of her hand.

"Good, then I'm not as nutty as I think I am at times. Still, how about some breakfast?"

"Is food the only thing you can think about?" Whitney looked at Jim with an amused look.

"As far as I know, I haven't eaten for the last year and a half," Jim said with a grin. "That's bound to give you an appetite."

The two made their way into the kitchen and began the task of making the morning meal.

"What sort of plans do you have for today?"

Whitney considered Jim's question for a moment. "I do have some errands that I should attend to..."

"Oh, that's no problem," Jim responded. "Why don't you just drop me off at the Central Library. I have quite a few things I want to do some research on and the library is usually a good place to start. Then we can have some dinner later on and do some shopping, if you don't mind."

"Shopping?" Everything sounded okay to Whitney so far.

"Well, I do need to get some clothes that fit properly, for one thing." Jim pulled at his baggy clothing to demonstrate.

"I can see your point," Whitney said with an amused grin.

An hour later, Whitney's sports car roared away from the Los Angeles Central Library. The library was in its sixtieth year of operation and was celebrating its anniversary. The large literary complex was a combination of Spanish Colonial and Beaux Arts styles.

Jim had a feeling of familiarity about the place. "Probably spent more than a few hours here while doing my investigative reporter gig," he silently mused. He made his way to the microfilm section and began the tedious task of locating old Times stories about himself and his colorful alter ego. Taking out a notebook and pencil, Jim went to work.

Since Jim Sculley had disappeared on August 17th, he started at that date and proceeded forward. There were some minor articles about his disappearance. Since Jim really hadn't done any major stories involving criminal elements, foul play was ruled out in his disappearance. Eventually no more notice was given him. "So much for my fifteen minutes of fame."

From there, the days and weeks dragged on. It was almost five months before another item of news received his serious attention. There had been other noteworthy items of news on the super powered front, but none involved Spectrum. For instance, Mecha of the Champions was brutally killed by Mechanon in a terrific battle and Silver Avenger Lyndon Johnson Kaufman defected to the Soviet Union.

It wasn't until the middle of January of 1985 that a reference to Spectrum appeared. It was in Argentina of all places. The villain group known as Terror Inc. attempted to kidnap the President of the country, but the trio of villains were soundly defeated by the Victores, a South American hero team. They would have been captured if not for the intervention of Spectrum, a previously unknown super being. Sometime after that, Spectrum joined Giganto and Scorpia as a team member under the leadership of Professor Muerte.

Jim sat back after reading that particular story. "What the heck was I doing in Argentina?" He re-read the story several times and made what notes he could. It wasn't much, but it was at least was a start. A photo accompanying the story clearly showed the gaudy colored costume that Spectrum wore. "Man, that costume has just got to go. I look like a cross between Captain Livesaver and a thin Michellin man."

The hours rolled past as Jim continued his research. What followed were many more incidents of terrorism and violence by the super villain group. It sickened Jim to think that he was somehow involved in such petty acts of violence. "It's no wonder that they've taken 'Terror Inc.' as a name. And I guess it makes sense why the other mutants from Genocide behaved the way they did around me. As far as the world is concerned, Spectrum is a super-powered terrorist!"

Jim took a break and made his way to the restroom to freshen up. He regarded his own reflection. "So, just who are you?", he said to the man in the mirror. The only reply he got was a troubled look. Jim certainly didn't feel like he had it in him to do all the things that were being attributed to him. Still, the evidence was there right before him.

Returning to the microfilm, Jim resumed his research. The last reference to Spectrum was early November of 1985. "Just a week or so before I arrived in Denver," Jim mentally noted. Apparently Terror Inc. had traveled to France to recruit the flaming villain known as Feur to their ranks. Spectrum departed shortly after that. "And then that thing with Genocide took place."

A further search of the Times was fruitless. There was no reference of Spectrum between the plane crash in Colorado and his waking up in Whitney's guestroom yesterday. "That's a relief, although it doesn't explain where I've been and what I was doing."

Details on the plane crash were sketchy. It was officially attributed to a freak lightning strike, but the articles left plenty of room for doubt. While there were fatalities in the crash, Jennifer Snow and Sally Sable were not listed among them.

Jim glanced at the clock on the wall and it was getting close to the pre-arranged time that he and Whitney had agreed upon for her to pick him up. He gathered up his notes and returned the microfilm he had been using. As Jim made his way to the front of the library, he passed the area where many computers had been placed for research or Internet Access.

A group of kids crowded around a computer got his attention. They mentioned something about 'Hero Net' among their desire to seek out pictures of heroine 'babes' in tight costumes. Jim watched for a few minutes and found out that Hero Net was an online web site dedicated to super humans!

Seeing that he still had twenty minutes to kill, Jim slid behind a computer terminal several tables away from the ogling teenagers. He punched up the address for Hero Net and began to look around. All in all, it was a huge site complete with chat rooms, message boards, galleries, archives, and just about anything else Jim could think of. Most of the major United States hero teams had their own areas as well. They were labeled such things as the 'Champions Corner', or the 'Protectors Place' and so on.

As expected, there were pages dedicated to individual heroes as well as entire teams. There were write-ups on an individual's powers, as far as they could be gleaned from simple observation.

What really got Jim's interest up was that the site had a Rogue's Gallery as well. "Gee, this Hero Net appears like it could have done all my work for me!" Seeing that his appointment with Whitney was now just minutes away, Jim used the Search feature and typed in the word 'Spectrum'.

After a pause, a page featuring text and graphics began to fill the screen. Jim didn't bother to take notes on it, instead he had it printed out for him to read later. He did a search and print on Icicle and Shadow Queen in quick succession as well. Jim shut the system down, stuffed the printouts into his notebook and made his way to the front of the Library. As he descended the stairs, he saw Whitney waiting patiently at the curb.

"Very punctual," she remarked, glancing up from her watch. "It's a pleasant change from the way you used to be."

"You're dealing with the new and improved James Sculley now, Ms. Parks," Jim said as he situated himself in the passenger seat. Whitney smiled and roared off into traffic. "As for dinner, I took the liberty of making some reservations..."

Later that evening, after sharing a private meal at the exclusive restaurant, Spago's in West Hollywood, Whitney's sports car pulled up before the Van Nuys home of Jordan Sculley one more time. Whitney remained behind the wheel this time. Jim knocked on the front door again, and found the door to be locked this time. After several minutes of waiting and getting no response, he circled the house, peering in windows as he went. At one of the rear windows, Jim could have sworn that he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. But when he focused on it, he could see nothing. Disappointed and more than a bit confused, Jim returned to the car.

"Nothing," Jim commented. "This is getting really suspicious."

"Maybe he's avoiding you?"

Jim turned to face Whitney after that comment. "You could very well be right. But I still have to try and talk to him. I guess I'll have to come back later."

It was nearly ten o'clock when the pair made it back to Whitney's modest apartment. Each carried several shopping bags of clothes and accessories. Jim had purchased the beginnings of his new wardrobe. The bags were placed in the guestroom for later separating. Whitney retired for the evening while Jim showered and changed. He never could sleep without showering first and the new clothes felt better than his borrowed ones. It was frustrating to find no messages awaiting him on Whitney's answering machine. It had been a hope that his father would have left a message. Jim was beginning to wonder just how badly he had alienated him. "Alienating people seems to be something that the old me was good at."

Jim sat on the bed contemplating what to do next. Remembering the list of phone numbers in his wallet, Jim pulled the list out and grabbed the phone. Only one of the numbers were long distance, so it was a sure bet that it was his sister's phone number. After graduating Law School, she had taken a job up in Seattle.

Jim punched the numbers in and then waited. The phone rang several times before being answered by a woman's voice. "Hello?"

"Uhm, hi. Is this Stephanie Sculley?"

"Yes..." The reply hung in the air like a question.

"It's your brother, Jim."

"Jim!", the voice on the other end shouted in surprise. "Where in God's name have you been? We've all be worried sick about you."

"I really can't say. I have amnesia, Stephanie."

From there, Jim recounted his tale: from waking up at Whitney's to the present, removing any reference to Spectrum.

"That's quite a story, Jim," Stephanie summed up. "I wish I could come down there right now, but things are so hectic at the office that I can't really get away for more than a day at most."

"Tell you what, give me a couple of days and I'll fly up to visit you. I want to try to make contact with Dad."

"That sounds great! Give me a call when you have your flight booked. I could chat all night, but I really need to get some sleep. I have a big trial in progress and I've been doing research all day long."

"I understand. I'll give you a call earlier tomorrow night, okay."

"Sounds great, big brother," Stephanie replied. "Nice to have you back."

Jim sat the phone back down on the receiver and smiled. At least his relationship with his only sister seemed to be on good terms. Of course she wasn't around Los Angeles either when everything seemed to go sour. Glancing at the clock, Jim saw that it was now past 1 AM. Still he didn't seem all that tired.

Pulling out the printouts from the library, Jim gave them a cursory scan. The one about Spectrum listed his noteworthy activities as a member of Terror Inc., more or less rehashing what Jim had read in the Times. Among the powers listed for Spectrum, they had listed the ability to fly, turn invisible, create light-based force fields and walls, and project blasts of light over various intensities from a bright flash to laser-like bursts.

Jim shut the door to his quarters and regarded himself in the full-length mirror on the door's back. He concentrated and the colorful garb of Spectrum appeared on him. "It would be so easy to walk away from this...", he thought to himself. "Spectrum has seemingly disappeared and I could make it permanent. I have a future without him. Whitney's a wonderful woman and I could try to recapture my writing ability. Somehow that's just not enough. Still, going out in this outfit is only an invitation for trouble."

Unsure of the exact nature of his ability to exchange his clothes with his Spectrum outfit, Jim experimented. He changed back into what he was wearing originally, but this time altered the colors. More experimentation followed and he found that he could completely alter what he was wearing at a whim.

"And I just spent all that money on clothes," he thought with a sigh. "Still, I should make a run by Dad's place. This time unannounced." Jim concentrated once more and changed into an all black body suit that completely enclosed him. "There, now no one will confuse me with Spectrum."

Jim shut off the light and then opened the window. He flew out into the night and circled over Whitney's apartment house trying to get his bearings. Locating the proper direction, Jim quickly accelerated and streaked off, flying much faster than even Whitney's sports car. The buildings below him passed in a blur. Jim quickly became lost in the wonder of flying.

Unexpectedly, a bolt of electricity shot across his path! Jim turned and saw a man in a white costume with a torus-shaped spiral on his chest fly in from the right. A crackling blue energy field surrounded the newcomer.

"Hey you!", the stranger shouted out. "Yeah, you in the black! You a hero or a villain?"

The question certainly caught Jim off guard. While he had given that very thought much consideration during the last few days, he had yet to come to a final decision regarding Spectrum. "I'm not sure," he finally blurted out.

"What do you mean you're not sure?!" The man seemed upset to hear that. "How can I accumulate points if I don't know whether you're a hero or a villain!"

"Sorry," Jim said as he gestured with his hands. Both were now hovering a few hundred feet above the ground. "But I really haven't made that choice yet."

"Argh!" The man screamed and raised his hands towards Jim once more. "I don't care who you are, Charger is going to blast you!"

Jim realized what was going on and accelerated off once more, Charger's energy attack missed him by a wide margin.

"Geez, who was that nut ball?", Jim wondered out loud. Jim continued to accelerate and rapidly pulled away from the electrical villain. Soon his glowing blue form faded from sight. After make sure he had shook the attacker, Jim continued on towards his father's house.

Upon reaching the house, Jim willed himself to go invisible. He peaked into the dark dwelling, but didn't see anyone. Jim checked the upstairs windows and found one to be unlocked. He slowly pushed it up, the window creaking as it rose.

He could see that the room beyond was empty as he slipped inside. In spite of the darkness, Jim could make things out as if it was daytime. Jim froze in place as he heard the sound of footsteps out in the hallway. "I knew there was someone here all along," Jim thought.

The door to the room slowly opened. Jim's jaw dropped as he saw an all-black, shadowy figure standing in the doorway...