September 12th, 2011

It was the end of the first day of school. Kids were still enjoying the summer temperatures of the air around them, wanting one last taste of their previous before they would have to endure the long, arduous, fall school year. I, like any other kid, was just glad to be out of school, back at home with my da-.... Oh, I’m sorry, I meant to say, to be home with Mr.Johnson. My name is James. James Miller, if you want to be formal that is.

Anyways, if you haven't already guessed, yes, Mr.Johnson and I are not related in any way. He adopted me some time ago, and has been watching over me ever since. As for my real parents? Well, I lost them ten years ago, September 11th, 2001, during the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center. They were working in the top floors of the first building when flight 11 hit, and, suffice to say, they didn't make it.

The only closure I have to that day is my mother's anniversary locket, the one that my dad had bought her earlier that same year, and even that didn't feel like it was enough.

Let me tell you, growing up without them hasn't been easy. Even my birthdays are minefields nowadays, because every year, no matter how much I tell myself not to, I break down into tears, missing them missing them more and more with each passing second.

Every year, its the same thing... I wish they would come back, but I know that that's never going to happen. Though, I'm determined to make it so that this year will be different.

Since the day that I lost my parents, I have always wanted to make a difference in the world. To stop meaningless bloodshed so that no one, and I mean no one, had to go through what I went through all those years ago. To be the hero, in a sense, and lend a hand to those who need it.

Walking down the last few blocks to Central Avenue, where I had agreed to meet with Mr.Johnson after school, I could see him sitting there by his truck, a smile on his face just like every other day.

"Well James," he said, standing from his place next to the truck. "ready to go visit your parents again?"

"Yes Mr. Johnson, I have a few thing to say to them before we go home." Mr.Johnson gave me a curt nod as

I took my book bag and threw it into the truck, hopping into the passenger side while Mr.Johnson took his own place on the driver's seat, the truck whirring to life with a twist of his keys as we drove off to the local cemetery.

As soon as we arrived, I was, as usual, the first to get out and head over to my parent's graves, but this time, rather than follow me out, Mr.Johnson stayed in the truck. Turning to him, I saw him lower his window and poke his head out, leaning his arm against the door as he looked to me.

"James, you go ahead and tell your parents what you need to. I’ll keep the motor running. I can tell
what you want to tell them is personal, so I'll stay out of it."

He always did seem to be able to tell whenever I wanted some privacy or not, and by the looks of it, today was no different. Giving him my own nod of silent thanks, I turned again and made my way further into the cemetery, passing by rows and rows of stone headstones, each seeming to have their own unique designs to them, until, eventually, I reached a pair of similar looking graves, the names 'Johnathan Miller' and 'Martha Miller' etched into the stone fronts. My parents.

Their bodies, like many others of that incident, were never found in the wreckage of the twin towers, but they were given these memorial tombs nonetheless, some of their older friends, like Mr.Johnson for instance, having funded the ceremonies.
I missed them so much it was unbearable at times, but speaking to them when I came down here always made me feel better.

Now I know what you're thinking.
'How can you talk to them when they're dead?'The simple answer is, I can't, but I can still imagine exactly what they would say to me after I spoke to them. It sounds crazy, I know, and to an extent, it is, but, I've just gotten used to doing it after all of these years. Old habits die hard, huh?

"Mom, Dad, I came by to say hi, and I really miss you both so much. It hasn't been easy without you, and I just wish that you were here to see me at school today. I'm really glad to start my new year at school. Hopefully, I will be able to pass this year just like the last. With flying colors." I chuckled at my own joke, silently making up what I thought my mother would say to me at this point.
"Yes, I know mom, you're proud of me no matter what I do." She was always so sweet, and kind. Next, my father came in, 'ruffling my hair' and telling me how he was sure that a 'big, strong boy like myself would be able to pull off anything I put my mind to'.
"Dad, you always know how to make me smile, no matter what. Oh, and Mrs.Missouri told me to say hi."

After a couple of hours of talking to them, I gave them both my farewells, standing up from beside the graves and heading back to the truck. Mr.Johnson was there waiting for me, just like he said, watching as i made my way inside and Mr.Johnson drove us home, neither of us saying a word as we did so.

As we drove, the asphalt roads soon turned to dirt, and building slowly began to decrease in their quantities. See, Mr. Johnson didn't live in the city of New York, but in a more rural area, where there wasn't much traffic and the surroundings were
decently quiet. Eventually, we arrived at a lone house, pulling into the driveway as Mr. Johnson turned off his truck and the both of us exited the vehicle, myself grabbing my book bag as we did so.

As we opened the door to the house, the first thing to grace my sight, as per usual, was the shine of light from the golden piece that had stationed itself in the center of the room. Mr.Johnson wasn't really just a normal guardian, but a war veteran as well. He received the medal of honor for saving a squad of United States soldiers, during his time in Afghanistan, from being killed by an AL Qaeda terrorist who had stole an allied tank from one of the bases in the middle east, killing him, as well as 30 other followers of the terrorist organization as well.

Mr. Johnson hangs that very same medal over his fireplace, as well as his old rifle, which is mounted on the wall to the left of the fireplace. Mr.Johnson also used to work at the N.I.A (National Intelligence Agency) during his spare time as a soldier, but he resigned for reasons that, no matter how much I would ask, he wouldn't tell me.

Mr. Johnson is in the kitchen making dinner, while I’m just sitting on the living room couch, watching 'Worlds Wildest Police Chases'.It’s pretty interesting what some people will do just to avoid being arrested. Some are just crazy and dangerous, while others are just plain stupid, like that idiot that circles a neighborhood again and again just to run from the police. People these days just have no sense sometimes.

Right as the show was ending, Mr.Johnson called me over for dinner. Now, the normal diet of any New Yorker I know has a basic, yet filling, food group hot dogs, pizza and...

“Oh boy, Stromboli, my favorite! Thank you Mr. Johnson!”

“ No problem James! Just like any other great chef, I know what the customer likes.” He said, giving me a playful wink.

The both of us exchanged a laugh while we ate, and, just like that, I started telling Mr.Johnson how my first day at middle school went. He nodded politely as I went on, clinging on to every detail while he silently ate. Once I was done, I asked him how his day went.

“Sorry, I don't want to talk about it James.”
I rose a brow as I heard this, swallowing another mouthful of strombolli. He wasn't sad or anything when he had said that, but something was telling me that he was hiding something. I’ll just have to wait until he tells me then. He has just been so secretive lately, and I don't know why, but eventually, I'm sure I’ll find out.

After we finished eating, I took a look at the clock and saw that it was 8 o'clock. Time for me to go to bed. I grabbed my plate and I rinsed it off before I stuck it in the dishwasher and headed to my room. Then, I got into my pajamas and got under the covers of my bed, turning off my lamp light. Mr.Johnson opened the door by a crack a minute or so later, telling me good night.
I replied, “Good night Mr. Johnson, see you in the morning.” And with that, he shut the door and I quickly fell asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(POV Change)~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
{Mr. Johnson}
After closing the door to James's room, I knew that he was the one. Even from the start when, I first found him by his parents graves, in the rain, a face full of tears, I didn't have the heart to just leave him there, so I took him under my wing and got to know him.

Over the years he has shown to be a devoted, strong, friendly, helpful, and caring young man, which is why he has proven himself worthy enough to take on this job, and I know he can do it. Besides, I've seen first hand that he is able to hold his own, a good example being that school fight that had happened. Crazy thing really.

He had helped some random student with a bully who was threatening to hurt him if he didn't give him his money for lunch. At least, that's before James stepped in. The kid tried to hit James and take him, down but James was too much for the kid, and knocked him out cold with one good uppercut to the chin.

After that, he stayed there until the school security showed up. I arrived moments afterwards, having gotten the call from the school principal, and soon found myself sat in the office with James. The principle was in no way mad with James. In fact, he was smiling at the both of us!

“Son, in all my years of running this school, never have I seen such a heroic act unfold on these grounds. You really did teach that boy a lesson, and since you technically did not begin the fight, Im more than willing to let it slide this once. Just don't make a habit of getting into fights though. Hero or not, this school still has a reputation to keep.”

I had even asked for a copy of the security film and, though admittedly, it was on an impulse, I sent that into ABC, which was then featured in their morning show and has over a million hits on YouTube. Funny, huh?.
Now that I know he has the potential though, I think, no, I'm sure he's ready for this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(P.O.V. SWITCH)~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September 30th, 2011
{James Miller}
Today was my birthday, and what a beautiful day it was at that. 90 degrees with a slight wind coming in from the south, making it the perfect day to go out and do... well, something. Getting out of my bed, I changed into my regular clothes and made my bed. As soon as I was finished though, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in, its unlocked!” I yelled, turning to my bedroom door as it clicked and opened. Almost instantly, Mr.Johnson walked in with a huge smile on his face.

“Mr. Johnson, why are you so happy today? Is there something special you have planned?” I asked jokingly, a smirk on my face.

“Yes there is James, and I've been saving it for your 15th birthday. So come and join me in the living room. I'll show you your gift there.”

I nodded and left my room with a smile, an overwhelming sense of anticipation spreading over me. Once we sat down in the living room I looked around for the gift he had mentioned. Oddly enough though, I couldn't find or see it.

“So Mr. Johnson, where did you hide the gift? Am I supposed to look for it or something?" I asked, raising a brow as I looked to him.

“No James, its not here. And you don't have to look for it either, because you’ll never find it up here.”
I didn't really understand what he was saying, so naturally, my brow rose even higher in confusion.

“What do you mean by 'up here'?" Mr.Johnson chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

“Here, I’ll show you James.” Mr.Johnson then got up out of his chair and walked towards the fireplace. He put his hand on the medal he got as a soldier and he turned it sideways. Then, all of a sudden, the fire from the fireplace went out, and the fireplace opened up to reveal what looked like a small elevator. As you can probably tell, I was shocked, my jaw having dropped and eyes widening.

“Well James, are you coming?"

Mr. Johnson said jokingly. Shaking my head, I hesitantly followed him into the elevator, glancing around the metal insides as I did so. As soon as I stepped completely inside, the elevator closed shut, eliciting a small yelp of surprise from me, and we started going down. A number at the top of the elevator started to go down little by little, making a slight singing noise as it reached every other number. Eventually, letting out one final 'ding', the elevator doors opened up to reveal what looked like something out of a history film on World War Two. In the middle of the room was a table, though it had no legs underneath it. Just a solid wooden block really, and to the left and right were two boards with what looked like blueprints, of sorts, and a couple of papers with something written on them that I couldn't really understand. Mr.Johnson stepped over to the front of the table and, just as quickly as he did so, there was a loud click. The top of the table flipped over to reveal, what I could only describe as, a suit of armor with some modern day weapons, gear, and the like attached to it.

“Well, here it is James! This is what I think you're ready for.” Um... What? Surprise was one thing, but complete and utter shock was another.

“What is this Mr.Johnson?” I asked, looking around the room as I made my way to his side.

“This is a top secret project conducted by the N.I.A., code named, 'Project Knight Stalker'. This suit was designed to be used for a new division of the army. One that would need even more training then the navy seals. This suit is wired with state of the art computer technology and would only be used for nocturnal missions. Not only did it come with gear, but also a sleek black stealth jet to drop the soldier into position, and the user able to control the jet’s flight pattern remotely so it could either pick them up or give them covering fire if the mission went bad. You remember that one futuristic movie the two of us saw together a couple of years ago?" He asked. Almost instantly, I was bombarded by memories of the odd film, though I couldn't seem to remember the name. Flashes of futuristic weaponry and machinery flowing through my mind.

“Yes.”

“Well, its the same basic idea, except you're not in a drop pod falling from space to the ground.” He added, nudging me with a smile.

“Well, Mr.Johnson, why do you have this then? I mean, why isn't this in service?" I inquired, further looking over the odd suit that laid in front of us.

“Well James, because of a lack of funding from the government, the program was shut down and the army team never came to be. This suit is the only one still in existence... Which is exactly why this suit is more capable at fighting crime.” That one threw me off.

“Excuse me?!"

“You heard me James. This suit is more than capable enough to keep the streets of New York clean without worry.” Excitement surged through me as I looked to him.

“You mean, I could be like a superhero?!?” He looked to me and smiled, crossing his arms and leaning against the wooden table.

“Yes James, like a superhero.”

“ I don't understand Mr. Johnson, why me?Of all other people?”

“Because James, you have the heart to do it and I've seen you use it. Remember the school fight last year?” I slightly cringed at the memory, but I still pushed on.

“Yeah, what about it Mr.Johnson?’

“I've seen it in your eyes James. You like to help people and lend a hand when necessary. Youre kind and caring, but also strong, in both heart and will, which is why you're perfect for this, and you, and only you, can help prevent stuff like what happened to your parents from happening to someone else.” I was skeptical at first, of course, but, thinking in it now, I guess that he did have a point.

“I... guess you're right. But... I have one question.”

“And what would that be?” He asked.

"How am I going to be able to get around New York? Even in this suit, I doubt that I'll be able to get anywhere fast enough." I asked, crossing my arms as I looked to him.

“True James, but your forgetting something.” I rose a brow at this, unsure of what he meant.

“Remember the jet I mentioned earlier?” He said with a smirk.

“You mean-...”

“Yup, I also have one of the jets designed for the suit.” Yet again, I felt my jaw drop, before eventually shifting into a smile of both excitement and happiness.

“Well, what are we waiting for?!?Let's get started!” Chuckling, Mr.Johnson reached over and ruffled my hair.

“That's the spirit James!”

Author's Note

Tell me what you guys think. over all I think this is an improvement over the first story