This next story is related to my previous post (The Atomic Punk), but it is not the next story chronologically. It skips ahead a fair bit, actually. I'm never one to give plot points away to much of anything (just ask my friends, if anyone asks me what happens next in a movie or book I just smile like an asshole and tell them to wait and find out), but I do need to let you guys and gals in on a detail or two so you're not lost.
What you need to know:
A bit of time has passed. I can't say how much because I honestly don't know yet. I have a rough chronology of the events that are to come mapped out in my head, but this story stubbornly defies said mapping. It's got bits that make me think it belong one place and bits that make me think it belongs another. That said, fuck it. It works perfectly well as a stand-alone story. Plus, I can always change some details later if I decide I've chosen the wrong place for this story.
Wesley's working under a new alias now. Things got a bit rough for him and he changed his vigilante identity recently to avoid the heat. He's a little roughed up and he's spent some time reconsidering how he does what he does. Is he good enough to keep doing this? What happens if he screws up and someone gets hurt? You know, the same questions you and I ask ourselves before we put on our colorful full-body stockings and/or jacket and hoodie ensemble and go out into the night looking for miscreants, ne'er-do-wells, and nogoodnicks.
And with that I finish yet another self-indulgent rant to an audience of illusory fantasies concocted by a delusional writer clicking away at a keyboard in the dark. But hey. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy to pretend that someone out there is listening to my pedantic soliloquies.
EDIT: This story changed places. It now takes place before Nuclear Family Fission and Wesley is still running around under his original alias, Sentinel.