I am ninth gen.

Which is cool and all that but it means all the cool names are taken.

First gen or as they call themselves The Golden Age took most of the good names. Irish X, Static Shock, The Impersonator, Project Worm, Shooting Nova. Excellent names with excellent powers. Forming such groups as ARMIV2 and We Are Legend.

Second gen followed soon after taking up what was left of the good names like Wildvine and Delphic to match their powers.

From third gen onwards it became just silly. Naming yourself after things and websites like Impurestcheese which is a fan-fic website for lactose intolerant goth-borgs or Knight Of The Chronicle, the world’s foremost ancestry portal. Some goof was running around calling herself Pyrogram after the delivery company! By ninth gen, my time there's nothing left.

My powers needed a cool name that wouldn’t infringe copyright. Which was hard since there was nothing left, even using my real name Tommy is registered up that I have to pay a fee to speak my own damn name! I eye-type into Snapbook random words hoping for a non-link but it’s like a blind guy trying to find a black cat in a football stadium at midnight.

CBishop…396,000 results (0.49 seconds)

Joshmightbe…61,700 results (0.46 seconds)

What’s for dinner…6,650,000 results (0.56 seconds)

Hapax Legomenon…81,500 results (0.39 seconds)

For crying out loud!... 12,600,000 results (0.22 seconds)

See?! Impossible!

Batkevin74…465,045,333 (0.19 seconds)

This is just dumb!

Time Phantom…0 results (1.01 seconds)

Oh my god!

I hit the Gamespot-wiki register and lock it in before it vanishes.

I can’t believe it! I got a name.

Now to work out how to sell my electric eyebeams and lizard skin as Time Phantom. Pfft who cares I got a name.

Watch out bitches

I’m the goddam Time Phantom!

Dark Abyss - KCSSHD

‘Another day walking in this pitch-black abyss.’ I thought to myself as I continued to walk somewhere.

I looked up and I saw a crack of light, so small and insignificant. I gave up trying to escape long ago.

Instead what I, KCSSHD, decided to do was weave myself into a web of lies.

‘You can mimic being happy. It’s not like you are going somewhere.’ I thought long ago.

“Somewhere and anywhere is better than this god forsaken pitch black hole!” I screamed and I punched the ground.

‘No. Your life is perfect and you don’t have the right to complain.’ I thought.

“You have to maintain your composure. No one can see who you truly are underneath. Just smile and act natural.” I said to myself.

I continued to walk in the pitch-black abyss, thinking of different things. Like wondering how living on Mars would be like, being a bird with wings, the next new iPhone. Anything to distract me from these feelings of being nowhere and belonging nowhere.

“Is that it? Am I just going to give up? Ignore my problems and pretend everything is fine for the sake of public opinion?” I thought aloud as I stopped and looked back up at the crack of light.

“No, I shouldn’t. But I don’t know where to start.” I said before bursting into tears. I collapsed on my knees and put my hands to my face to catch the tears of my pain.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“I just don’t.”

Stumpy49er

In the year 2209 the world as we once knew it changed when the Big One fell to Earth, causing half the living creatures of the world to mutate. Most of the world became a wasteland. Cities that survived became known as Oasis's.

Year 2281: On the outskirts of Golden Gate Oasis in the Clementine settlement.

Old Stumpy's Bar.

"Hey Stumpy! Who was that girl you used to run around with?" yelled a fat drunk to Stumpy, who was sitting at a table with his left leg up on a stool as he cleaned his revolver.

"Never you mind, Bill," answered Stumpy. "She's long gone. I got a good woman now."

Molly smiled at him from behind the bar as she grabbed a bottle of hooch.

Bill gulped. "Ah.. sorry Molly.."

"It's okay Bill," Molly replied as she poured Bill another glass. "People like hearing stories about Red Cat Jane, the scourge of the Banking Elite."

"Never mind that woman," said Stumpy. "I don't have time for people who have to steal to make a living. I made my cash the old fashioned way. In the great Scrap Rush of '49, I came all the way from.."

The bar collectively groaned. 'Not this story again.' 'Always going on about the Scrap Rush.' 'I like this story.. hey don't throw things at me.'

Stumpy finished his long story, "and that's why they call me.."

"Stumpy 49er!" came a brutish voice from the door.

Stumpy looked over at the owner of that voice, a large mutant; half man, half ram. Three large, mean looking men came in behind him. They had matching tattoos, MPG, which stood for Meat Packing Gang, a vicious gang that formed at Abomasum's Meat and Cheese Packing Factory just outside Golden Gate Oasis and not far from Clementine. The ram man was a top enforcer for MPG, known as Slag the Head Crusher, since he liked to head butt his victims to death.

"My pal Swiss warned you to pay your protection fees," Slag threatened Stumpy, pointing at his tall, mutant buddy, Swiss, who had over a dozen eyes on his face and neck. "Since you haven't paid us yet, Boss Abomasum sent me here to remind you that we all need protection."

As he said this he put his hand on Bill's shoulder, who quickly fumbled for his wad of cash to give to Slag.

Stumpy continued to clean his revolver, with his bum, left leg still up on the stool. "I don't need protection. I've always done fine on my own."

"You do need our protection," Swiss spoke up. "I hear you've been having trouble with the Bird Man Clan, lately." Slag gave Swiss a mean look for talking out of turn.

"I've handled them just fine. Like I said 'don't need protection, don't want none." replied Stumpy.

Slag laughed. "Well, that's fine. Boss Abomasum told me to tell you we don't really need you to pay for protection, if you don't want none. However, we do need you to pay our beer tax. You see, anyone selling alcohol to the good people under our protection need to pay their taxes."

"I pay taxes to the settlement of Clementine." replied Stumpy.

"Well, now you'll pay taxes to MPG as well." said Slag.

"No I won't!" replied Stumpy as he finished cleaning his revolver and started putting it back together.

The bar patrons all got up and began to leave. Slag walked up to Stumpy and grabbed the revolver out of his hand.

The bar was empty now except Molly, who was still behind the bar, the four MPG thugs and Stumpy.

"I was hoping you'd say no," Slag said. "Swiss, grab the girl, we're going to have some fun today."

The lanky, multiple eyed mutant walked toward Molly. She reached under her dress and pulled out a red handled revolver with a cat emblem on the side. "Stop right there."

"Holy crud!" Swiss gasped. "Slag, I recognize that emblem."

Slag looked over at Molly. "Put that gun away, girlie. You don't want to mess with the Meat Packing Gang."

"Slag! I'm telling you I recognize that gun," Swiss interrupted. "Hell, I recognize her from the old Wanted posters. She's Red Cat Jane! The Lawboys will want to know about this."

Molly winced hearing that name. "Big mistake, Swiss face!"

She shot Swiss between the eyes.

Stumpy lifted his bum leg toward the other three thugs and pulled a switch, firing a shotgun blast that blew two of them backwards.

Slag, who had begun moving towards Molly, got a little bit of buckshot in his hip. It barely slowed him down as he rushed toward the bar, leapt over it and tackled Molly to the ground, slapping the revolver from her hand.

She struggled to keep her arms between her and his dangerous forehead and horns, putting a broken bottle up to his chin to keep him from head butting her. He wrestled with her to keep her arms pinned to the ground and reared his head back for his crushing head butt.

BLAM!

His head exploded.

Stumpy was sitting on top of the bar, his bum, fake leg pillowing smoke out the barrel, pointed at Slags headless body. "Two barrels, Head Crusher!"

Stumpy helped Molly get up.

"Great! Now what do we do?" she asked.

Stumpy kissed her. "We had to do it. That one recognized you, Jane."

"We've got the Banking Elite after me. The Lawboys are still searching for me. The Bird Man Clan hates you, for some reason. Now we've got these MPG thugs gunning for us," Molly said. "We just attract trouble. Where do we go from here?"

"Start over again. Burn down the bar. Collect the insurance. Move to another settlement," Stumpy answered. "I hear P-Town is nice."

Molly sighed. "I was really starting to like Clementine."

Time Share: The Time Phantom Interview

Cameras aren't usually allowed at these meetings, so we've obscured the faces of those in attendance. An old man in a sky blue costume with a white skull emblazoned on the chest approaches the podium. The brown leather boots, briefs, and gun belt finish the costume, complete with the sidearm, which doesn't seem to make anyone uncomfortable.

He seems to steady himself by holding onto the podium, and looks at the group only a moment before saying, "Hi. My name is John Phantom, and I'm an addict."

"Hi, John," responds the group of about twenty people.

"I've been clean for thirty five years, four months, and..." he stops to figure. "And nineteen days." The group applauds his accomplishment. "This past week has been an especially bad one." His head drops mournfully, followed by his eyes closing, and his lips drawing in as he remembers his pain. "My wife came back from the dead," he says to audible gasps from the group. "Sort of," he adds as he looks at the ceiling.

***

The scene switches to a private room where the old man sits at a table, still in costume, and smoking a cigarette. "No, my real name's not 'John Phantom.' Don't be ridiculous! My sponsor said that attending as 'Time Phantom' was 'hiding from who I was,' but I couldn't reveal my real name due to my enemies. Plus the group kind of felt silly saying, 'Hi, Time Phantom,' every time I spoke. So 'John Phantom' was the compromise. My identity is protected, and they get to not feel silly." The old hero shrugs. "What the hell? We all did some stupid, embarrassing sh[eep]t while we were using. What's 'John Phantom' between anonymous friends?" he chuckles ruefully. Then he takes a long drag on his cigarette, savors it, and blows it out through his nostrils while still looking at the interviewer off camera. "You know I hardly even touch these things anymore either?" he asks, then looks at the cigarette. "But like I said, it's been a bad week."

***

The camera switches back to the meeting where "John's" story continues. "I became the Time Phantom when I was eighteen. It's a legacy that goes back a little over two thousand years. 'The Ghost Who Walks Through Time' they call me, and it came with a long list of enemies trying to kill me... or kill me 'again,' in some cases. The 'immortal hero' story was easier to keep going before cameras and video." The group laughs lightly, and John smiles with them. "At any rate, I am one in a very long line of Time Phantoms, but all those crazy bast[eep]s wanting me dead just for continuing a costumed tradition? It was a lot for a stupid teenager like me. That... and the flying," he says with a shrug and an eyeroll.

"Who'd believe it, right? A hero that can fly, but is afraid of heights." The group laughed again. "Sure, the time travel, the other powers, the fame... and the girls," he says, pursing his lips at what is clearly a fond memory. "All of that was nice," he says with a nod, "but man, I hated flying. So whenever I could avoid it, I did. That's why I had the car," he says with a little gusto. Then his eyes go haunted as he looks at nothing in particular in the room, and a somewhat weakly, he says, "That damned stupid car."

***

Back in the private room, the hero is still smoking. He says, "Oh, I loved that car.... then. If it hadn't been for that car, I might have never met her," he says with an endearing smile. Then his eyes go just as haunted as in the meeting, he takes a quick puff on the cigarette, and quietly adds, "Maybe that would have been for the best."

***

At the podium, John says, "Rollergirl was amazing. Pure beauty from her dyed blonde hair to the wheels on her skates. From that first time I caught her when she she was knocked off her feet by The Hitman, I knew that I had to be with her. She wasn't as impressed with me, but luckily, I had the car. She loved muscle cars- that's how she got around when she wasn't on skates- and my car had more muscle than any other out there."

Life showed back in his eyes as he described it. "Motoronium engine with nitrosium fuel cells. Flight and submersible capabilities. A loud, guttural roar when I put my foot in the gas. Badass chain guns that folded out of the sides when I needed the firepower. And a sweet, cherry paint job." He smiled a little as he remembered it. "We went on many a date in that car, and even raced each other when we had the time. We married eventually, and it wasn't long before our angel was on her way. We named her Clementine, just like her mom." Pride shown on his face, and there was a little twinkle in his eye that may have been a tear.

***

At the table, the tears were more obvious. He said nothing, staring at the wall as he recalled his losses.

***

"Rollergirl retired when she had our little girl, and I was all for it, but I kept in the fight. Twenty-one years old, trying to balance saving the world, being married with a kid, not liking to fly, and supervillains trying to kill me. So I started using to calm my nerves- took my first hit from some pills I took off a dealer I busted. I figured I was super strong and invulnerable- it wouldn't bother me, right? I just needed to take the edge off." He shakes his head ruefully at the thought.

"It was okay for awhile. Like any addict, I learned to hide it, and lie about it... for awhile. Of course it got out of hand though. That picture of me and The Three Kings that you see everywhere? I was flying way higher than any of us in that picture that day. Almost took out the chase plane in my stupor. That's why I'm so close in the shot, and why none of the pictures I took with the telephoto lens I was holding were very good."

***

Sitting in the chair, lighting a new cigarette with the old one, Time Phantom takes a puff to get it going and then laughs. "Yeah, one of the greatest moments in my life, flying with my idols and those beautiful planes of theirs, and I did it through a drugged out haze. What a freakin' idiot," he says with a dismissive wave.

***

The room is silent, listening intently to John at the podium. "This went on for a couple of years. I remember Bump In The Night yelling at me that I was 'out of control' at one point. You'd think that when of my villains is telling me that, I would get a clue, but no. I beat him senseless and kept right on with what I was doing."

He took a deep breath and a swallow of water, and continues, "Towards the end, a news crew caught me on film trying to hide a stash of pills in my shorts at a drug raid," he said, snapping the waistband of his shorts with his thumb. "I'm sure you've all seen that at some point. The cops didn't know what to do- they couldn't hold me. One of them spoke up though, and I blew him off and flew away.All of that was on film of course, and Clementine was not happy when I got home. I'd rather go toe-to-toe with Viceroy Volcano than my angry wife," he said, getting a chuckle from the group.

"We had a big blowout argument that ended with me at a press conference, issuing a public apology, and entering rehab for the first time. That didn't do much. A detoxing superhero that can bench press loaded semis and toss people across town doesn't inspire a rehab staff to try to corral you when you want to go off the rails. They couldn't anyway. I'd time travel at night, going back to a point where I'd busted some dealer, lift his stash again, and come back to my room higher than the national debt. No telling how many divergent timelines I caused with those trips.

"They finally 'passed' me, rubber stamping me out of their hair and making me someone else's problem." He drinks some more water, and pauses.

"I didn't want to deal with Clem' again, but I didn't want to lose her either, so I got a lot better at hiding it. When I couldn't, I'd call her and tell her I was going on a mission in space with Jumping Jupiter, or that I had to chase Wartime across centuries, or that I was in China with Red Panda." A few whistles went up at the mention of the Chinese heroine. "Yeah, not one of the better things I could have told my wife," he admitted, which was followed by more laughter from the group. "But I'd tell her whatever, just so I could get away and get high. Most of the time, I was parked across town in a vacant lot near the docks, passed out in my car with more pills in my system than a pharmacy. Probably would have been asleep with needles in my arm if they could penetrate my skin. Don't think I didn't try."

***

In the private interview, Time Phantom laughed guiltily. "Yeah, I tried it once. When it didn't work, I went and demanded my money back from the dealer, and whatever he had in pills or blow. He gave it up without a fight. I think he was scared I was going to rip him in half. My drugged out ass at the time- he's probably lucky I didn't."

***

"When I was in my better moments," said John, making eye contact with the group, "I was fighting crime and taking down villains. Maybe a little rougher than necessary; I wasn't at my best.

"I had a CB in the car with a guarded frequency, and Clementine would call me on it with the typical housewife stuff." Going a little softer and high pitched to imitate his wife, he said, "'Don't forget to pick up the dry cleaning.' Or 'Can you pick up some milk on your way home?' Or 'Don't forget the mayor is giving you the key to the city at two.' That kind of stuff," he said with a vague backhanded swat at the air.

"We had this thing on busy days like that. She'd ask me to pick something up from the store, and then take our daughter to the playground next to the store. I'd get glimpses of them as I went in and out, they'd see me briefly before I got home, and of course little Clementine got to play. She knew my secret, and liked to see me in my costume whenever she could. Two birds with one stone, you know?"

***

In his chair, Time Phantom swallowed hard and turned his head from the camera- wiping his eyes with his fingers.

***

"It was one of those days. I had to fight some freakishly preserved Nazi fused with his plane- The Luftwaffan, or The Blitzkrieger, or something- who thought he was fighting the same Time Phantom from World War II. Of course he wants to dogfight, so I had to fly. The height was terrifying. The fight was brutal. Between moments, I went back in time and got high as crud, and came back. I only meant to take the edge off, but I overdid it. By the time we were done, I was exhausted and coming down, but still pretty torn up.

"So of course Rollergirl calls me on the CB, and has a list for the grocery store. I was too tired to argue, and figured I could use the time to straighten my head out before I got home. We had taught our daughter not to acknowledge me when she saw me in costume, but my head still wasn't clear when I came out with the two bags in my arms. I grinned my big dumb daddy grin, and called out, 'Hey, pumpkin!' That was all it took for her- she hollered 'Daddy!' and came running across the parking lot. Clementine came running after her, trying to catch her before anyone realized who she was running to." John pauses, chest heaving with the thoughts.

"I was--" he falters, then sobs. "I was so messed up from the pills and blow that I had done during the fight, that this break from our protocol rattled me. One of the sacks slipped from my arms, breaking the eggs, and spilling the containers of milk and ice cream from the bag. I dropped my keys trying to catch it, and the keyfob hit the pavement, causing the chain gun to--" He sobbed again, then bent over the podium shuddering as he cried openly. "It unfolded from the side of the car," he said a bit muffled from not speaking directly into the mic.

He stood up suddenly, trying to regain his composure, and cracked the edge of the podium in his grip. The shock from the surprise of it jolted him from his tears. He was speechless for a few moments as he looked at the broken podium, then looked back at the group. He stood up straight, took a few deep breaths, and then said, "I bent over with the other bag still in my arm, and picked up my keys." He looked at his right hand as if his keys were still there, between his forefinger and thumb. "I reached for the ice cream, and my thumb... mashed the button for the chain gun." A couple of short cries went up from the group.

***

In the room, Time Phantom was doubled over against his legs, face buried in his hands. Breathy sobs were all that broke the silence.

***

"They were cut down in an instant." The room was silent. John rolled his lips between his teeth as he thought of what happened next.

"I lost it. I went back and tried to save them. Over, and over, and over again. I created so many divergent timelines trying to keep them from dying; I screwed up history so bad; that Wartime- frickin' Wartime- had to get a group of heroes together and chase me through time to stop me and fix history. And they did. Which meant that I didn't get to save Rollergirl and my daughter," he said with a hollow stare towards the back of the room.

"With Wartime's help, they held me in one time, and I went to rehab for real. I've been clean ever since, and have dedicated what's left of my life to honoring the memory of my wife and daughter- being the hero I should have been all along." There was brief applause for that, but John waved it down.

"This past Sunday was the anniversary of their deaths, and like always, I traveled back in time to see them. I always go to a time when they're at the playground, so I can see them from afar without them seeing me." He swallowed hard as he remembered them.

"Only this time, something happened. Something interfered. And rather than going to another time, I went to another universe. Maybe one of those I created when I screwed up history- I don't know- maybe Wartime didn't fix everything. But what did I see? A younger, dumber version of me, making all the same mistakes." John shook his head sadly.

"And then I saw her, but not quite her- her hair wasn't dyed, and her muscle car was a different color, doing a wheelie as it flew by on the street. I helped my younger self fight Volcanono- an altered version of Viceroy Volcano- and then we went back to his house to discuss how this happened."

John shrugged kind of helplessly, and said, "I'm old. I needed to go to the bathroom, so I asked if I could use theirs. Younger me, who called himself Sky Phantom- apparently he had no problem with flying- pointed down the hall and stumbled off to the kitchen. I went down the hall, and went into the wrong room." He took a deep breath, and said, "And there she was. Her back to me. Black hair instead of blonde. And naked. My breath caught and I gasped, 'Clementine!' She looked over her shoulder at me, and I was sostunned- so shocked by her being back- being so close to me- that it threw me back across the universal divide. Back home."

***

Time Phantom looked at the interviewer off camera, and just raised his eyebrows, acknowledging the outlandishness of it all with a look.

***

"I have never wanted to get high more than that moment," said John. "So I have been at meetings every day since, just talking my head off like this. I want to go back and see her. I want to help Sky Phantom to not go down the path that I have. But mostly, I reallywant to get high. So for now, I'm here." His eyes searched the cracked podium for a few moments, and the room was silent. "I'm here," he said again, and then, "Thank you."

The group applauded.

***

"I'm here," he said to the interviewer. "That's all I've got right now." He took a drag on his cigarette, and nodded. "I'm here."