PS238 Room 8

His Driver's License states that he is 28, even though he looks much younger. Ask him why this is and he'll say it's because he got good genes/born under the right sign.

He doesn't look anything like Tyler Marlocke. If anything it's strange how he tends to move and act in a way that's completely different from the boy. The only thing similar is a tendency to make 'the puppy face'.

He's completed his bachelors of History Education, with a minor in metahuman history. Beauford was supposed to be a teaching assistant to a college in Seattle, but the job fell through after a few months.

Beauford subscribes to Armchair Detective, True Crime and the True Hero News magazines.

The reason he's such a good cook is because through the latter part of highschool and college, he earned much of his income working in a restaurant/banquet hall. Bridezillas are the reason he has sworn never to take up another professional cooking job again. Not unless the pay gets doubled.

He is fit, active, and very shy on showing off his body, due to a number of scars. The only reason he gets away with covering himself up to the wrists as a bartender in Q5-7 is that he wears skin-tight thin shirts and mixes VERY good drinks.

========That is all on Beauford Tannen=========

This is all about Tyler Marlocke as an adult.

YES. He is Moon Shadow and Beauford Tannen, but seeing as he's trying to keep his identities a secret AND he stuck time-running back into his own childhood, he will NEVER admit to being either. He will also mentally blacklist and avoid anyone who seems determined to uncover either identity. It's like witness protection.

At this point in his life, he's earned no less than five doctorates in engineering, history, criminal psychology, pharmaceuticals and metahuman law (including passing the Bar exam). If he isn't on a case, he's studying, even while on monitor duty.

He is still terrified of getting superpowers, though now it tends to skip the pants-wetting-terror and go straight to the 'you have angered the paladin knight of OHGODWHAT, prepare to face justice'.

Calling him powerless as Moon Shadow is a great way to both amuse him and piss him off at the same time.

Tyler hides because he knows his parents haven't given up looking for him to join the family.

He's fifteen years later along the timeline for Tyler. This does not include time spent in other worlds.

He is currently going by Beauford Tannen in his current identity, and when in plainclothes he will only respond to this name in Bar.

He will always wear long sleeved clothes, even in summer. One does NOT work vigilante and not collect odd scars.

Beyond that he isn't saying anything about his gear.

"Don't tell anyone how your 'powers' work."

In all things, Tyler Marlocke is an agent who appears to be completely ordinary in every single way. His family is anything but, given that his parents were...unusually gifted. It was kept quiet for the most part and they were very obedient citizens, but....they never should have been allowed to raise a child. His parents never could quite take it that their only son was not as 'talented' as they were, but they couldn't be more wrong. He was very intelligent, picking up on things that they never noticed.

Like the surveillance. There was some consternation the first time the 10 year old ended up completely catching one agent by surprise and asking him very politely if he'd play go-fish with Tyler while his parents were busy. That got their attention. For six years he was the prime example of the nearly best of class, and out of class... he was getting help and counselling.

Then he filed for emancipated minor status from his parents and faded into various learning institutions for a while. After all, you don't find many people who can look an alien in the eye and not so much as bat an eyelash.

He's got an apartment in New York, rarely used.

It was sort of inevitable that Dinah would get a shift at monitor duty during his stay, there really wasn't any way around that. More to the point, Beauford mused as he headed back inside after having seen Dinah off, he had the apartment mostly to himself. Certainly Dinah Snr. would be watching the store, and no one had touched the two gallon buckets of vanilla ice cream that he'd picked up the first day and shoved into the back of the freezer.

And the look on Dinah's face when he'd said he would use today for nothing but desserts was priceless. Completely and utterly priceless. He began by washing up the counters to sterile-quality clean and preheating the oven for the first run of desserts, the ice cream sandwiches. There was a simple sort of plan, easily interchanged at several parts for any sort of last minute alterations he might want or need to make. The batter could be changed from chocolate to true peanut butter cookies, or he could crush the bag of oreos and mix it into the ice cream for a certain addict on base.

Actually the thought of mixing in some peanuts and caramel to the ice cream sandwiches was an appealing one as he pulled the two buckets out of the freezer to stick them in what little free space was left inside of the fridge to soften slowly. Eggs, butter, and milk were removed to make more space, after all, he'd be using those up today so they wouldn't go bad when he left. Hooking up his mp3-player into the sound system, the real busy work in the kitchen started up to the tunes of a randomized, but carefully content selected playlist of rock and triphop. By the time he'd gotten through the Nerd Corps album, five trays of chocolate cake batter 'cookies' were getting put slowly into the oven to bake. Butter and brown sugar went into a hot hot non-stick pan to bubble, melt, burn and turn into smoky rich caramel just before the timer dinged on the first batch of cake 'cookies'.

Lifting the parchment from the first tray, he began lifting the cookies to cool on racks so he could quickly reuse the sheets for more. The next batch of chocolate chip cookies took up enough of his attention that when he looked up after having put them into the ovens, something seemed off. He frowned counting over the racks of chocolate cake cookies, they were only now reaching that stage of being just cooled off enough to pick up, but not to use for the sandwiches. Beauford had been fairly certain that there'd been eight more cookies on that far rack when he'd started the chocolate chip cookies, but there was a grouping missing there now.

He shook his head and wondered if he'd had enough coffee this morning, it always took mental adjusting to spend time in another universe. It was possible that he'd simply miscounted when he'd poured out the batter earlier. For a moment, while chopping up the mint and tarragon for the fruit and herb popsicles, he pondered the possibility of Dinah Snr. having snuck upstairs to snag a few of the cookies. Just as quickly he dismissed that thought, the elder of the two Lance women was many things, but she had manners and would have asked if he could spare a few for her. It was her kitchen he was borrowing right now, after all, and he would've gladly spared a few for her. The finely minced mint went into a large ceramic bowl while the tarragon went into a large jug with sugar in the bottom.

With a heavy -thock!- the cleaver sank into the large watermelon he'd asked to get yesterday, and started splitting it into first two, then into quarters, and then slices on the cutting board. Good, the flesh inside was a perfect dark pink, now he'd just have to find that strainer before he started using the food processor to blend it all. Digging through one of the lower cupboards, he found it'd strayed a little from where he'd put it after washing dishes his first night. Beauford straightened up and turned back to start cutting the watermelon into smaller chunks when he frowned, once again, with the feeling that something was off.

The five-minute warning from the oven reminded him that he didn't have time to dally trying to figure out what was wrong with the picture right now. The first batch of cookies were cooled off enough to come off the racks into a container, before he had to hustle all the trays of chocolate chip cookies out to cool. Grabbing a can of limeade concentrate from the fridge, he poured half of it into the food processor and started cutting in the chunks of dark pink watermelon, tossing the rinds into the compost pail he'd started with the egg shells from the cake batter. The whirr of the machine drowned out the music some as he pressed the puree button and poured the rest of the limeade into the jug with the tarragon. A light breeze turned into a mild gust into the kitchen, bringing a welcome cool after all the baking and rustling the used parchment paper in the trashcan.

Placing the strainer over the bowl with the mint, Beauford poured out the pureed watermelon to let all of the liquids drain and mingle with the aromatic herb. The can of cherry juice concentrate came out of the freezer as well, if he'd been in Milliways, Beauford would have taken the time to pit a gallon of cherries to mix into this batch, however he didn't have that sort of temporal luxury here. It also seemed to reason that he'd spent three out of five prior days here cooking, so the privilege of being just a teeny bit lazy with his cooking was allowed. That went into the jug with the herbs and limeade concentrate before getting water added until it reached just the right level of tart-sweet flavor. Breaking out the plastic popsicle molds, he started separating the trays into two groups. With three trays of eight to each flavor that ought to be enough to hold the sweet tooth of someone who wanted something sensible to snack on. Pouring the cherry-tarragon-limeade into the molds, he wondered as it seemed yet again there were less cookies present than before. This time the chocolate chip cookies had the look of something thinning their ranks.

"This is getting to be a pattern.." Beauford murmured to no one in particular, though the words were drowned out by a particularly loud burst of bass and drums from the sound system. "I turn my back and stuff goes missing."

The watermelon popsicle fluid only needed a little more sugar before that too went into the molds and into the freezer to set. He wiped everything down again and set the sullied dishes into the sink with a little soapy hot water to soak for a bit. A little effort now saved a headache later, when he'd have to scrub batter off of the mixing bowl.

Crushing the oreos for the ice cream cookie only took pouring them into a ziplock baggie and then pushing a rolling pin over them to break them into smaller-than-bitesize chunks. That got poured out into a clean cake pan before Beauford pulled out the now soft-enough to shape, vanilla ice cream. With the ice cream to his right, the oreo pieces in the pan in front of him, and the container of chocolate cake 'cookies' just behind that, he got set for making the first run of ice cream sandwiches. Working as quickly as he could humanely go, one hefty scoop of vanilla was pressed between two pieces of cake 'cookie' and then had the edges rolled in crushed oreo pieces before going on a slim tray lined with waxed parchment paper. When a tray filled he rushed it into the freezer and started again until he had just a half-dozen scoops left in the container and no cake cookies left.

Beauford paused for a moment as another gust of breeze came through into the kitchen and he glanced at the caramel he'd made earlier, which was thickening up. He grabbed a spoon to take just a quick taste of the caramel. It needed something to go with it in the ice cream, it was sweet, but it needed a salty counter point. There was creamy peanut butter in the cupboard, scooping out a cupful of it into a pyrex measuring cup, he let it heat and liquify in the microwave before blending it with the ice cream and caramel, scooping from the second softened gallon container into the first. The same process repeated as with the last batch, save that these got rolled in M&Ms before getting put onto their sheets.

The breeze from the open windows gusted again with a low woosh and Beauford happened to glance at the tray just as he was about to put another ice cream sandwich on it. There was definitely an ice cream sandwich missing from this tray. Twisting to the side, he bent to see if it had fallen off onto the floor, but there was no such sign of any mess. Just a lot of dirt and grit on the kitchen linoleum. He'd have to give this place a thorough cleaning, it just didn't do to leave your cooking space a mess after you finished, even the floor ought to be mopped.

Straightening back up, Beauford went to finishing up the ice cream sandwiches. If he hurried he could probably get two trays done at a time, and get them both in before any more made a disappearing act. This time, on a hunch, he kept a watch on the apartment door and the window from the corner of his eye as he worked. This time with the gust of wind he just caught what he thought was a red blur in the apartment for just a fraction of a second. He held still a moment and slowly looked towards the tray of ice cream sandwiches...sure enough, another was missing.

Finishing off the mixed caramel and peanut butter ice cream filled sandwiches, this time, there were extra cookies left. With a little creative arranging he managed to fit what was left of the ice cream back into the freezer, but only just. Beauford grabbed what was left of the peanut butter jar and slathered it onto one of the dozen cookies left over. Pressing that into the M&Ms he then gave it a generous dollop of the caramel before setting it into the leftover oreo cookie crumbs and then squishing an odd cake cookie on top. He set the concoction onto a plate and dug fifteen dollars from his wallet, before setting up a note next to the treat and the cash.

To whomever has been stealing desserts from under my nose,
Would you be so kind as to pick up some supplies for me? Here's a list and what I hope will be enough cash to pay for the pie crusts and fruit.

PS: Dinah, don't ask your teammates to snitch the desserts for you. I want some of them to be a surprise.

"Well I'm sure you're near, and I can almost smell you but the winds are up at the walls again. I can hear you coming, Heaven helped you coming I believe in heaven it's a wait away.." Singing to himself, Beauford gathered up what was left of the cookies and headed downstairs into the shop to knock at the door-frame behind Dinah Snr., so he wouldn't startle her too much when he set the plate next to her elbow. He smiled as she looked up at the plate of cookies and smiled, nodding quietly and nodding to the phone she was currently holding to her ear. He held up his hands and nodded in reply, gesturing to a free chair to sit in. He hummed, just so softly under his breath, waiting and listening to both Dinah Snr. and the walls around him.

Would you whine in water, Pull your chips back in, So you crawl like a crab across Black Fries Bridge. Suffer none to fade, Hit the homeward road I'm a bowling green, A delivery boy,

It didn't take long for the elder Lance to hang up the phone and raise an eyebrow at him, before smiling and picking up one of the cookies.

"Just taking a break, Mrs. Lance." Leaning back in the chair and sighing contentedly, Beauford flashed her a grin. He was tapping soundlessly to the tune he had sung on the way down, keeping time.

"Just a break?" As Mrs. Lance asked the question there was another rush of wind.

"Well, I'm hoping for a nice surprise when I walk back up there." Beauford smiled, eyes alight with just a hint of mischief. If he was wrong about the cookies, he was wrong, but if he was right on his hunch... "Any rate, just needed a minute or two to clear my head with some fresh air."

"Is that what we're calling it these days?" It was obvious she hadn't missed those noises either.

Have a heart that skips a beat, Oh come on, Roll along for free,In the middle of the morning, Swap your drinking nights with me, With me...cold bread, cold bread, we had..

"Shhh, if I'm very quiet and polite, maybe the speedster fairy will see fit to resupply me for another dessert."

There was definitely an imp grin on his face now as he started singing that song softly from his headphones, as if he didn't have much of a care in the world right now. It wasn't especially grand, for singing, but he had a decent tenor voice, and he tapped his foot and nodded his head to the rolling beat.

~"I can live with dying, I can chew my bit, Play panic to my senses, And hijack my head..

It's the rhythm of moving, And a rolling and a rattle. Its a giving instead; It's a well sprung bed.

We can roll around forever.
We can pray for all we've been.
We can knock it hell for leather.
We can call it all a dream.
All a dream.

Coooold breaaad, Coooold breaaad,
We had....

Coooold breaaad, Coooold breaaad,
We had...."~

The last two dozen words came out as a breathy prayer almost, softly as the list took it's time to select another track to shuffle.

".....interesting."

He glanced over at Dinah Snr. and her response to that little obvious obliviousness for the benefit of that last rush of wind that'd come through. She had an eyebrow raised, he wasn't fooling her at least, in that he was old hand at this superhero game. But there were a certain set of unspoken rules, to people in the game at least. If someone didn't come out and say it, they had some good reasons for being that way.

"Isn't it just?" He lit up as the next song came on and eased up out of his chair grinning, nearly laughing, as if the world had just gifted him sort of epiphany. "I'd better get up and clean up though. Enjoy the cookies, Mrs. Lance."

"Don't wear yourself out, young man."

"I won't, I've got enough scars to know I'm not invulnerable." He bowed to her again and twisted, twirling to hop up the steps singing again..

~"Guuuummed up, brain dead and can't decide, you can't pray enough, you can't hiiide
You can be cool or you can cryyyy... Do it wrong, Not it all Or do it right."~

He swang in his steps back up the stairs to the apartment, a sashay onto each step up, and swaying into the apartment singing.

"No one owes you, no onnnne's to blame, save for bad genes or DNAAAAAA.. Ask your conscience the... why and HOW, do it then, do it when, or do it NOW!"

There sitting on the kitchen counter were two bags of pink lady apples, four pints of raspberries and several premade piecrusts, some in pans, some waiting to be rolled out.

"WHAAAAAAHT'S UP! What's up, sweet caaaakes....WHO'S HIP, who's hip, aneeeeWAAAAAaaaAAAY, oh!
EARTH GIRLS, earth girls, are easy....."

Beauford rolled his shoulders and cracked out all the knuckles in his hands in a motion, suppressing the urge to cackle. Today was turning out to be a very good day for tarts and pies.

What you gonna do lil' buckaroo? Hey you, you better ask her nice! All you gotta do, happy fool, is ask your mom...

[Songs Credit: Cold Bread By Johnny Flynn, and Ask DNA by Yoko Kanno and the Seatbelts

As Tyler jogs in from his practice outside, he glances around the bar room proper to try and spot Charles for his next lesson. Seeing however, as it is evening for the Bar and the dinner crowd is making it difficult to spot anyone. Even standing up on rafter above the crowd isn't helping, and really, he's looking forward to this lesson.

Less likely to get him blown up, or grant superpowers, after all.

So then, it comes down to how best to get his teacher's attention in a crowd...without alerting the rest of Milliways.

Scooones, SCOOOOoones, Scones, Scones, Scones, Crumbly buttery scoooooooOOOOOOoones, sung inside of his head.

The great and terrible things come together with a tiny thought which is quite often a question.

How can I help save the world?

When that question gets it's first answer, it turns out to be another question layered on top of it.

What am I saving the world from?

Then another question on top of that. And then another, and another as some questions need multiple answers that are also questions. By the time it is half-way formed the great and terrible thing is no longer a single question, but a pearl of the concept.

What should I use to drive them back?

And this pearl becomes the focus of a single idea. One that leaves a gadget hero pouring his nights into research. He was once the child of heroes, later the somewhat adopted son of a great inventor and good man, and the pupil of his world's greatest equalizing force. He just has his hands and his mind to work with when it gets down to it.

How does this work?

It took months before he realized that the parts he needed weren't in the Bar itself. There were worlds he had to visit to find suitable replacement parts, and a lot of very scared people before he found them. He'd owe favors to them later. But there were two parts he wouldn't be able to fully replace. Only temporarily replicate.

How do I power this thing?

Maybe it's no surprise to anyone back home that when he's there, he's looking for a specific type of psychokinetic resonating stone. It doesn't surprise him when it comes in the form of a jade dragon when he finally finds it. Though perhaps the real surprise came when the antique dealer nodded to Moon Shadow just as solemnly as he said. "I will accept a favor from you, in exchange for this. He follows your heart in these matters, and I will not stand in his way."

How do I control it?

And now that pearl of questions has begun it's final steps to becoming a great and terrible thing. There were just a few things left now. Surprisingly enough, the last piece he needed was the one thing he had all along from the start, from the original pilot. He had to step back in surprise when he realized that, looking up at the face, big as a house, and that being just the head.

He's got to go through about eight more checks of everything before finally getting into the pilot's seat, the replica dagger in one hand. Everything is in the green when the overhead passage to the chamber, and the door in the head shut and seal. It's another breath before he raises the flute piece of the dagger to his lips and plays the notes to start this beast up. There's a lurch that almost scares him out of his seat before he realizes that the lights outside have come on...and the entire thing is sinking down into the water.

The last question isn't even really a question at this point, even though it finishes this great and terrible thing..this force out entirely. There's always that look of surprise on some villains faces when they realize just what he was, after they've found all he's done to them. It surprises him sometimes too, but only one person may ever hear him confess to that.

How far will I go?

The drop through the water is fast enough before the controls start heading and everything works as it needs to. The jade dragon is almost growling, probably is, more in excitement than anything else. There's just the water to pass through now..and a lake to exit from.

The answer was and will always be, as far as I need to go.

It's a couple of weeks before Tyler finds himself with the time and the free passage to find the Professor of the flying classes. Between avoiding Charles, pranking same said bully and working extra hard for Potions... Well there's only so much time someone gets really.

Not that it's stopping the boy from knocking on the door of the Professor Kale's office.

"Professor...are you in?"

If they're dreamers, they want bouncy castles and pony rides and giant tigers.

If they're the children of superheroes, oddly enough they still want those things, but you can't find a good pony that resists nuclear radiation as Tyler's learned. So, in the interest of keeping things simple and within his budget, a party has come together in the backyard of the house of one Augustus Fenwick.

Inside, there's plenty of soda in the fridge, and bowls of chips, dips, crackers, pretzels and ofcourse candy and little paper favor bags. The coffee table between the couch and TV already has one large present wrapped in brown paper (decorated with green watercolor cats) and an absolutely HUGE box wrapped in a myriad of wrapping papers next to it.

Outside in the fenced backyard is a good sized stick, branch and log structure, waiting to be set on fire as soon as the sun really starts to set, and that isn't that far off as the afternoon sunlight reveals. There's a kid in a black trenchcoat that looks about eight sizes too big poking about said structure as Tyler holds open the door for the guests. And decorating the walls, counter top are little decorated brown-paper flags saying 'Happy Birthday Nepeta!" in green letters.

Role: Student, 1st year Gryffindor.
Familiar: Eagle Owl, Svati
Wand: Seven and a half inches, Cypress, Dragon's Heartstring, Sturdy, inherited from paternal grandfather (utter rubbish with it)
Specializations: Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, in the near future.

The history as we know it: Tyler is the son of two of Earth's mightiest heroes, and has all the superpowers of a piece of paper. He is however, one of the most keen sensible minds of his generation and time.

In this universe, he's the son of two of Aurors who work for the Ministry of Magic, and while his parents expect him to be as great a wizard as they are, his only claim to power has been the acceptance letter to Hogwarts. Tyler's just a little afraid of all of this, because he's SEEN what Ministry officials have brought home from work. Even with his paternal grandfather's wand in hand, he's entirely dubious about his own ability to do anything magical at all. As a reward for the acceptance letter however, he's gotten to pick a familiar, and for sheer usefulness, he asked for an owl, ...which his parents took a little far. He knows little about his parents codenames as being secret agent Aurors. his Mother is Sovereign and Father is Ultima

At school, he wants nothing more than to do well in his classes and hope that someday, his parents will back off on the subject of him swinging a wand. He does very well in his first year courses for History, Potions, Astronomy, and oddly enough, Defense Against the Dark Arts (if only because he's a wicked knack for objects accurately and ducking and has the theory down). Anything that involves waving a wand however, he will fail at.

"Why can't I come along for this?" Cecil asked Tyler for what was the third time in the last fifteen minutes as his friend had just sprung the news of a possible interdimensional party being thrown in the next few months. They'd just spent the last hour working out their coverstories for the event when Tyler had stopped and said he'd have to talk to someone about permissions for this.

"I didn't have to ask permission to rescue you from the Rock of Challenge*!"

"That's because, one you were traveling with Malphast who is on their okay list, two, you're haven't been their employee before. This is just a courtesy call so their monitors don't blow a gasket."

"You've been employed by them before??"

"Yes, during that whole thing with the Frozen North Horrors**."

"So wait, you got paid and everything, right, some cool gadgets..."

"Cecil....."

----------------------------

It took a better part of the remaining afternoon to find the payphone he needed and to dial the passcode numbers on the card. There was the responding dialling and click from the other line before someone picked up.

-"Connectng.."-

"Blue Moon over Kansas, calling to report."

-"Identity confirmed, connecting to reporting officer."-

Tyler sighed as the on-hold music played, waiting at the payphone. He didn't mind much hold music, but listening to 'hello my ragtime gal' so many times while waiting for his contact to pick up was a pain in the butt.

-"Hello Moon Shadow, what have you got to report in person?"-

"You know I'd rather talk to you guys in person. Besides that, my paper reports keep getting 'lost'."

-"*sigh* I suppose that's someone in the US end again...I'm very sorry about that."-

"You're not the only one, I think I know who's causing it on my end, but legally getting them to stop is..." Tyler shook his head. "Anyhow, I thought I'd give you a heads up that I'll be bringing some people from Milliways over for visits."

-"You know, we're alright with Dr. Stantz, why would you...oh lord."-

"...uhm..yeah most of em are going to be non-human, but I think I can handle it if I never take more than two home..."

-"...there's nothing I can do to talk you out of this? The head of the ministry is starting to take a special interest in your case."-

"Nope, too many people've let me visit their worlds, and I really ought to pay it forward. And at least one birthday party."

He could hear the groan from Agent Korpan on the other side of the phone, and waited. The grownup probably had to drink his peptobismol again.

*Frozen Horrors, Frozen North, a Ray Stantz production
**PS238 #23