S2, 11 History (FB) (August 24, 2015)

Corresponding text underneath each picture.

**28th July 2095: Present Day**

As I reached out and pressed the intercom buzzer for apartment 55C, my insides felt all of aquiver. I couldn’t tell what I was feeling.

On Etrion, after Eris had opened up to me about her family, specifically about her brothers, I had just known that the time was right for me to sort out some family matters of my own.

So I had flown back to Earth and done a little bit of digging around. I had been trying to find out the address of one Barnaby Walsh. Back when I was a child, I knew him as Uncle Barnaby, however, he wasn’t a real Uncle, just a good friend of my parents’. After their deaths and my imprisonment, I never saw him again. That was until I had recognised him in the torn photograph that I had found in my parent’s old apartment.

It had taken me a week, but I found what I had been looking for and discovered that he still lived in New York City. So now here I was, standing outside of the apartment block that he was a resident of. I had mixed emotions coursing through my veins and I could feel my heart pounding with nerves inside of my chest. I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous, but I suppose it was just down to the obvious fact that I was about to meet a man whom I hadn’t seen since I was 10. Would he remember me? How would he react to my suddenly showing up? Did he believe that I had killed my parents? In which case, would he call the authorities on me? I was alone as I had left Tracks with the Viper on the outskirts of the city, wary of it being seen by the Imperium and also just in case I needed to make a quick getaway if Barnaby called the cops.

Barnaby: “Yes? Who is it?” came a man’s voice from the intercom speaker. He sounded older than I remembered, but it was unmistakably Barnaby.

Tank: “Um, hi. It’s Barnaby, isn’t it?”

Barnaby: “Yes? Can I help you? Who are you?”

I took a deep breath.

Tank: “Hi Barnaby. It’s Frank Foster.”

There was silence and I waited with my heart in my mouth.

Barnaby: “Frank? Is it really you?”

Tank: “Yes. It’s really me.”

Barnaby: “But I though…. You were…. Please, come in. Quickly.”

The intercom ended but the door clicked open and I made my way inside and up to his apartment. Once there, I pressed the door buzzer and a few seconds later, it opened and there stood Barnaby. A decade older and greyer than before, but still the man I had once called Uncle.

Barnaby: “My God, it is you, isn’t it.”

Tank: “Last time I checked.” I joked with a small smile, still unsure how he was going to react to me.

Barnaby: “Come in, come in. We don’t want anybody seeing you now do we.” he ushered me inside and closed the door behind me.

**Elsewhere...**

Officer: “Sir!”

Col. Ramson: “What is it?”

Officer: “We’ve got a message from HQ. A ship matching the signature of the one used by Chain Rockwell was spotted over New York on Earth about 10 minutes ago.”

Col. Ramson: “Chain Rockwell?”

Officer: “Sorry, Frank Foster. We received information recently that he’s been going by another name.”

Ramson nodded as he shoved a newly re-captured escaped prisoner into a cell.

Col. Ramson: “Good. Get them to track it and send a squadron of Wasps to capture him.”

Officer: “Yes’sir!”

**New York...**

I looked around the apartment as I entered. It was a good size with nice furnishings. Nothing too over the top or fancy. In fact, it felt homely. Obviously while growing up in prison, I had come to realise just how well-off my family had been and so had also become aware of the fact that all of their friends must have been in the same sort of wealth group. However, looking around me now, Barnaby’s home showed no signs of extravagant wealth at all. Decent money, yes, but nothing outrageous.

Barnaby: “Please, sit down, sit down.” He indicated to an armchair with its back to the window. I thought that was a little suspicious. He had had plenty of time to call the authorities whilst I had been making my way upstairs, however, my wariness must have shown because he told me,

Barnaby: “Don’t worry. I haven’t called the cops.”

After a quick look outside, taking in the view of the rest of the street, I removed my hat, coat and satchel, placing them on a coat stand and then sat in the chair offered to me.

Barnaby: “You look good, Frank.”

Tank: “Thanks. Likewise.”

Barnaby chuckled.

Barnaby: “Liar.” He smirked as he sat on the sofa opposite me. “I’m getting older by the day.”

Tank: “Nonsense. You’re exactly as I remember you.” It was a lie, but a kind one. He did indeed look older. His hair had gone grey and he now wore glasses, which he had never done before as far as I was aware.

Barnaby: “And you’re nothing like I remember.”

Barnaby: “Last time I saw you, you were no taller than my stomach. Your voice hadn’t broken either. And your parents were still alive.”

There was an awkward silence, but it only lasted for a few seconds before he continued.

Barnaby: “I believe you, Frank. Just for the record and to clear the air.”

Tank: “You do?”

Barnaby: “I do. Always have. I never believed for one second that you could have done it. You were such a sweet little boy. How anybody could have believed that you had killed your own parents is beyond me.”

Tank: “Thank you. I didn’t know how you were going to react. Heck, I didn’t even know if you’d remember me.”

Barnaby laughed.

Barnaby: “How could I forget my little nephew?” he smiled warmly at me and for a moment, just a moment, I almost felt like I was young again and had family. “Although if I’d seen you in the street, I’d never have guessed it was you! You’ve grown up so much. How old are you now? You must be…”

Tank: “20.”

Barnaby: “You look older.”

Tank: “I know.”

Barnaby: “Where have you been? I mean, I know you were in prison, but after the Shift happened, I saw you on the news and…”

Tank: “Wait, I was on the news?”

Barnaby: “Yeah. There was a special report about criminals who had escaped during the Shift. Mugshots and names, that’s all they had. They were just warning people to stay away and contact the local authorities if they saw any of them. So I knew you’d got out. But that was so long ago now. Where have you been? What have you been doing?”

Tank: “That’s a long story. But I’ve basically been all over the system. I’ve been… working.” I explained, trying to think of the best word to describe what I did for the Brain.

Barnaby: “Doing what?”

Tank: “Oh… this and that.”

The old man looked at me with a strange expression on his face. Somewhere between sadness and understanding that gave the impression that he could see straight through me.

Barnaby: “You’ve changed so much, Frank. I suppose I don’t really want to know what you’ve been getting up to. If I don’t know, I can still imagine that you’re the sweet, innocent little boy I used to know.”

Tank: “I’m still that same person, Barnaby. It’s still me. I’ve just had to… adapt.”

Barnaby gave me a sad smile.

Barnaby: “I’m sure you have.”

Barnaby: “So after so much change, what’s brought you back here, to Earth? To me?”

I sighed.

Tank: “I need answers.”

Barnaby nodded.

Tank: “All of the work that I’ve been doing… it’s been unpaid. I’ve been working for answers. Some guy, he seemed to know all about me, calls himself the Brain, broke me out of prison on the condition that I work for him whenever he needs it. In return he promised to answer my questions.”

Barnaby: “About your past, I assume?”

I nodded in reply.

Barnaby: “So if this ‘Brain’ is giving you answers, why have you come to me?”

Tank: “Well, he’s not exactly been very forthcoming so far.”

Barnaby: “Ah, I see.”

He got up and headed over to a drinks cabinet on the other side of the room and got out two glasses.

Barnaby: “Well, I will be as helpful as I can be and answer what I can, but I’m afraid that my memory isn’t all that it used to be.”

Tank: “That’s fine. Any help at all would be amazing.”

Barnaby nodded.

Barnaby: “Have you ever tried Fuyorian Le’ty before?” He asked holding up a bottle of brightly coloured liquid and I shook my head in reply. “Amazing stuff. I get it imported, I like it so much.” He poured two glasses of the blue liquid and then came back over and handed one to me.

Barnaby: “To old friends and discovering the truth.” He raised his glass in a toast.

Tank: “Old friends and truth.” I repeated and we both drank to it. The Le’ty had an acquired taste but was certainly pleasant. Barnaby walked over to the window and looked out.

Barnaby: “Where would you like to start then? But before we do, just know that I do not know who killed your parents or why. I was as shocked as everyone when I heard about their deaths.  I don’t know how many others from the ‘regulars’, as we used to call ourselves, believe that you did it – to be honest, I haven’t spoken to any of them for years.”

Tank: “Regulars?”

Barnaby: “Our social circle, if you like. There was a group of, ooh… maybe a dozen or so of us, including your parents, who were all good friends. We all used to attend the same parties and events. That’s why we used to call ourselves ‘the regulars’ – because we were nearly always together! If there was an event taking place or a ball or something, you could almost guarantee that we’d all be there.”

I nodded in understanding and slowly came to a realisation. I pulled out the battered and torn old photograph from inside my jacket.

Tank: “Is this them?” I asked, holding the picture out to Barnaby. This was the first time since I’d discovered it that I’d shown it to anybody else.

Barnaby: “Yes! Yes, that’s them! Where on Earth did you get this?” he asked, taking it from me.

I explained that I had found it back at our old apartment and that it was already ripped when I had done so.

Barnaby: “Strange. I wonder who would have done that.”

Tank: “Who are the other people?”

Barnaby: “Oh my word…” he muttered, presumably trying to remember everyone’s names. “Um, let’s see. The guy in the top hat is Franklin Morales. Then that’s me stood next to him. Your parents at the front. Oh dear, um. I’m not so sure about the others, but I think the lady standing behind me was Rosemarie… someone. I’m afraid I don’t remember her surname. And I think the gentleman in the centre was named Alberto. But again, I’m afraid I don’t remember his second name. As for the other man, I’m sorry but I don’t remember his name at all.”

Tank: “Do you know who else was in the photo? Who was in the missing section?”

Barnaby: “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Frank, but I don’t. I don’t even remember having this picture taken.” He explained as he handed it back to me.

Tank: “It’s okay.” Truthfully, I was disappointed. I had hoped to discover who was missing from the picture. I might have held a clue to my parent’s murders. There again though, it could quite easily have just been another couple of people whom my Mum and Dad used to know. However, now that I’d heard a few of their names, a couple of them, Alberto especially, started to look familiar, although I still couldn’t remember anything more about any of them.

Tank: “Are you still in touch with any of them?”

Barnaby: “I’m afraid not. I haven’t spoken to most of them for many years now, some in fact since your parent’s funeral.”

Tank: “So then I don’t suppose you’d know how I could get in touch with any of them?”

Barnaby: “Sorry to disappoint again.”

I nodded in understanding.

Barnaby: “So have you found out *anything* about your parent’s murders?”

Tank: “No. Nothing. All I know is that whoever *did* kill them, was already in the apartment when we got back that evening.”

Barnaby: “It’s such a shame. I truly am very sorry, Frank. And I’m sorry for not contacting you since. While you were in prison or…”

Tank: “It’s okay.” I assured him.

There was a lull in the conversation and Barnaby came to sit back down on the sofa.

Barnaby: “Your parents truly were great people, Frank. I hope you remember that. They were loved by a great many and admired by even more. I don’t think there was a person in the city who hadn’t heard of them when they were alive.”

Tank: “Really? I didn’t know they were so well known.”

I had honestly never thought about my parents being that popular. Although I suppose, at the age I’d been when everything happened, I didn’t know any better. They were just my parents.

Barnaby: “Oh yes! They were truly wonderful people. Their deaths shocked the city and for people to hear that their own son had done it, well that shocked them even more. Even if it wasn’t true.” He added.

Tank: “Tell me more about them?” I asked, curious as to what my Mum and Dad had actually been like as people.

Barnaby: “Well, where to start? Your mother worked at the New York Central Hospital. She was a nurse in ER. A very popular one at that. Kind, generous, thoughtful. The perfect woman in every respect. In fact, it was there that your parents met. I seem to remember that it was a motorcycle accident that brought your father into the ER. Lana took care of him while he was in there and they kept in touch afterwards. And, well, I’m sure you get the rest. Even after they married, your mother continued to work at the hospital. For a while at least, and after she left, she still volunteered on a regular basis. She was loved by staff and patients alike.”

Tank: “And my father?”

Barnaby: “Your father was… kind, and understanding. He was an incredibly smart man and although reckless at times, he was a great businessman. He was the owner of a multi-million dollar Insurance company. He inherited it from his father, your Grandfather, if I remember rightly.”

Tank: “I never knew my Grandparents. I remember Dad telling me once that his parents had died in a car accident though. I don’t know why I’ve never met my Mum’s family.”

Barnaby: “I can’t help you there, I’m afraid; I know even less than you do. I assume then that it was after that car crash that Jeremy inherited the company then. He led a privileged life, well, we all did back then, I suppose. But he’d come from money and, well, he wasn’t always the wisest. But never-the-less, he loved you more than you can possibly imagine. They both did. You were everything to them.”

Tank: “I wish I’d known them more. From what you’ve been saying, so many people, people who may never have even met them before, have great memories of them. Yet I, their son, hardly knew them.”

Barnaby was nodding in understanding.

Barnaby: “It must be hard. To not know them. And also, I suppose, to have been accused of killing them. An awful lot of people were greatly saddened by their passing.”

Tank: “I was just so confused. I remember that vividly. Not knowing what was happening or why and then all of a sudden I was being locked away.”

Barnaby: “I tell you what, I think I still have an old recording of the initial news report announcing their deaths somewhere. I missed the first few seconds but as soon as I realised what I was seeing I hit record. Would you like to see it?”

I thought for a moment but then my curiosity got the better of me.

Tank: “Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

Barnaby headed over to a wooden shelving unit and rummaged around in the drawers for a couple of minutes before finally finding what he was after and walking to the TV, where he inserted the recording into the drive and then came back to sit on the sofa.

The recording began to play and as Barnaby had said, the news report had already begun. It was showing a blonde newswoman in a studio, speaking to the camera while a big “BREAKING NEWS” banner scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

Presenter: “…been found dead. And I’ll repeat that again; news just coming in, as we speak, that Lana and Jeremy Foster have been found dead. I’m just hearing the details now. Apparently, the pair were found in their penthouse apartment by a cleaner. It is currently being treated as murder.”

Presenter: “Okay, I believe that we have a reporter at the scene now. Whitney, can you tell us any more?”

The screen cut to a reporter stood by a police cordon in the streets and I instantly recognised the building just behind them as being the complex that our old apartment was in.

Whitney: “Yes, Cheryl; Police were reportedly called to an incident about 20 minutes ago. The cleaner had gone into the penthouse after hearing a commotion and discovered the Fosters dead in the living room. Just to clarify, that’s Lara and Jeremy Foster. At the minute, it is unclear what has happened to their young son, Frank and what sort of state he is in.”

Whitney: “I asked a police officer here a few minutes ago if they had any suspects, but he refused to comment.”

The studio presenter’s voice cut into the live feed from the street;

Cheryl: “And Whitney, do we know any actual details about their deaths?”

Whitney: “Not yet, however as soon as we hear anything, I will let you know.”

Cheryl: “Are there any suspects yet? Does anybody know of any reasons why somebody might want the Fosters dead?”

Whitney: “Again, not at the minute, I’m afraid. We hea…. wait a moment…”

A commotion had started and there were flashes of light as press photographers tried to get the best shot of what was going on inside of the police cordon. But I didn’t need to see what was happening. I remembered it all too well. Never-the-less I watched the footage anyway.

Whitney: “It looks like somebody is being led outside, out of the building. It appears that the police have made an arrest. It’s… I don’t believe it.”

The camera zoomed in to an un-focused shot of the doorway where police were escorting somebody outside. Slowly the camera focussed.

Whitney: “It appears to be Frank Foster.”

Cheryl: “Are you sure?”

Whitney: “Yes, yes I believe it is. Frank Foster, Jeremy and Lana’s son is being led outside in handcuffs."

Both women were silent for a little bit, as the camera followed me being led into the back of a police truck and driven away.

Whitney: “Well, that was unexpected. And I’m sure that there are going to be a lot of upset people around the city tonight, when they find out what has happened here.”

The footage cut back to the reporter in the studio.

Cheryl: “Indeed. Whitney, thank you. We’ll be back with you shortly to see if you have any new information. Now, if you’ve just joined us, our Breaking News story is that Lana and Jeremy Foster have been found dead in their apartment. It is currently being treated as murder and just a few moments ago, their son, Frank, was taken away in police handcuffs. This is a shocking story and a truly unexpected one. Lana and Jeremy Foster were well-known among both the elite and ordinary citizens of the city, mostly for their generous donations of both time and money to various charities. The philanthropists were often seen visiting numerous foundations throughout New York and could also regularly be found volunteering at several local schools and hospitals. This is a tragic night for New York. Its citizens have lost two local heroes. And of course our condolences go out to the Foster’s relatives at this hard time.”

Barnaby turned off the recording.

Barnaby: “After that, she just keeps going round in circles, repeating everything until they get some new information.”

Tank: “I never knew that they were so popular.” I commented again, almost to myself, still unable to believe it.

Barnaby: “Oh yes. Greatly. Even now, I, and I imagine a lot of others, still remember them fondly. It’s such a shame.” He added with a sigh.

Barnaby: “I don’t know what you’re doing with your life at the minute, Frank. But please, whatever it is, whatever you do, make sure you enjoy it. Live life to the fullest, because you never know what might happen. But on the other hand, don’t do anything that you might live to regret. You never know when your past might come back to haunt you.”

I nodded in understanding. I was about to speak again but after looking at the other man’s face, I knew something was wrong.

Barnaby: “You need to get going.” He told me, looking at something over my shoulder.

Tank: “What? Why?”

Barnaby: “They know you’re here. Go! Now!” he got up as quickly as he could and I turned around just in time to see the windows explode inwards in a hail of glass as numerous Wasps flew towards us.

**BONUS PICTURES:**

The set for the news report outside the apartment building in the flashback.

As my series is going to be jumping around though time, I will include a date on each episode and add it to the timeline at the end of each episode so that you can follow it.

TIMELINE