A plane taxis across the runway, slowing from it's frantic descent just minutes ago. Watching from a private glass paned room is the most powerful businessman in Liberty City, and quite possibly the world, Mr. Napp.

Gazing out at the plane, he reflects on the nature of his strange position. For all that Mr. Napp is a patriot, he would much rather be at a different airport terminal waiting for his daughter to return. Yet the demands on his station often outweigh his personal desires. Rare is the moment Mr. Napp has to himself.

Still, as the passengers disembark the plane, looking like little more than ants from such a distance, Mr. Napp finds himself smiling. The culprit is one of the ants visible through the window; it pauses, looks towards the glass and waves. Then a set of tiny lights flare up on the figure's fingertips, flashing a few times before winking out. The odd display ignites Mr. Napp's laughter and causes him to brace himself against the glass with a hand as his jowls shake with mirth.

The figure in the distance begins to close the gap. As it does, a trim blonde man in a tailored suit races across the tarmac. The pace he takes is impossible, moreso when he begins to race on air itself. With that movement, the mechanism becomes clear. Glowing lights shine from the soles of his feet, little discs that allow him to spring from space to space.

Standing just outside the window, the man stops abruptly and the two regard one another with blank expressions. One one side is Napp, the world's foremost businessman. His hands in his pockets, the powerfully built man and his dark hair stand in definite contrast to the blonde twig floating just outside the windowpane. His counterpart's wavy hair and slim figure hardly merit Napp's attention, however. Instead, it is the symbols worked into his suit jacket on the shoulders that grab the eyes. Each is a stylized rendition of Lady Liberty's torch for this, dear reader, is Beacon.

Both men continue to regard one another, each tracing the craggy stress lines in one another's aged face. Neither are young men, both in the mid-fifties. In fact, Beacon's blonde hair has an almost impossible vitality to it, and upon close inspection the sights of a dye are evident. Napp, in contrast, maintains no illusions. The few wisps of grey, though they are few indeed, marr the black, utilitarian, cut of his hair and trim beard.

Finally, the floating man places his hand on the glass pane. It begins to glow with the same light that Beacon walked upon earlier before the entire pane falls away from the window. Then, unobstructed, Beacon steps off the air and into the airport. As he does, Napp extends his hand to shake and says, "Brigadier."

"Beacon is fine Napp, its just an honorary rank," answers the superhero as he looks down at the proffered hand. Beacon then grasps his hand firmly and pulls him into a friendly embrace. The two separate and Beacon steps back saying, "Goodness, it's been what, like six years?"

Napp nods and answers saying, "Five and three quarters actually, but who’s counting?"

With a guffaw, Beacon says, "Quarters? Only a businessman would count those. How is Ginny?"

Napp shakes his head with a grin on his face, "She's an absolute terror. The other week she decided her tan wasn't up to snuff, so now I own an island resort somewhere down south."

Shaking his head and gesturing towards the hallway leading towards the passengers from rest of Beacon's flight he responds with, "You know I've always envied you having a daughter, but sometimes I think that envy is misplaced."

As the two begin to walk down the hall, Napp shoots back a jibe. "The world's mightiest hero is envious of a mere businessman? Perish the thought."

"You've never been merely anything," answers Beacon, and then his face darkens slightly as he continues, "And I'm not the world's mightiest hero."

"Speaking of," Napp says in a relaxed tone, "we've got a pair of new heroes making waves in the city. This Eldritch gal is pretty tough, although you never can tell with magic types."

Beacon nods sagely, "I've been impressed with what I've seen so far. Still, she's obviously young yet, too early to start making comparisons. What about this Ginger Snap? Seems like she's a solid sidekick but I think I recognize that suit, is that why you asked me to stop by?"

His face settling into a more grim expression Napp says, "Yes. So far, she's just using it as a small time hero but the fact is losing the suit set us back years. Getting it back is almost essential to the project's success. It also worries me, the connection the two seem to have. If Eldritch helped Ginger obtain the suit it might explain why we can't figure out how she stole it in the first place."

Cutting in, Beacon asks, "You don't have any leads?"

Napp answers, frustration creeping into his voice, "Not a one. The suit just vanished, and then about a week later this Ginger Snap showed up."

"That's troubling," Beacon says thoughtfully, tapping his chin.

Turning a corner, Napp says, "Not half as much as how brazenly she flaunts her theft in the open. I'd understand it if she was openly committing crimes, but her plan is insidiously brilliant. I can't openly move against her or call in any heroes because the public thinks she's one of the good guys and my options on the shadier side of the law are limited by my affiliation with you and my reputation."

Beacon stops walking in the middle of the hallway and says in surprise, "They authorized criminal intervention?"

Nodding, Nap turns to his friend and replies, "In a limited capacity. Only those we can track down easily and those we can trust to honor any deals we make. As you can imagine, that cuts out most automatically. So I've been using The Deck, although they've been astoundingly unhelpful so far."

Resuming his walk, Beacon says, "The Deck huh? Is Carver still running things?" Seeing his friend's puzzled look, Beacon continues with, "never mind, I'm sure he's changed his name by now."

Napp then says, "So listen, I know it's an imposition considering why you're officially here, but you'll have to stop by the house at some point, no shoptalk though, my daughter will hopefully-"

"Beacon!" shouts a diminutive man in a slick suit racing down the hallway towards the pair, "your impromptu flight just cost us a photo op, if we hurry we can make it back before the reporters realize they won’t be getting anymore pictures of you using your power!" Grabbing onto Beacon he hauls the hero back the direction he came, straining to move quickly without mussing his immaculate suit. Almost as an afterthought, the man looks back at Napp and says, "Well? You coming?"

Amused, Napp starts to walk faster as well, catching up to the two. As he does the small man puts out his hand and says, “Senator Crontike, from up north, are you assisting on Senator Wilkes reelection campaign too?”

Napp smiles and answers with a short, “No,” before he can continue, Senator Crontike cuts him off with a curt, “Then I’m going to need you out of the way during photos. Sorry to cut you out but we’re on a time crunch and we need to get everyone to the Mayor’s office in fifteen minutes.”

Amused, Napp simply nods in affirmation and continues to walk with the pair. Beacon starts to say something to defend his friend but spying Napp’s look he stays quiet. As the trio round the final corner and step up to a podium while the cameras flash, another man in a suit, this one much older, looks back to them and says into his microphone, “Ah! I told you they’d be along in just a minute. Let’s all say hello to Beacon, Senator Crontike, and my friend Mr. Napp!”

Napp and Beacon share grins as they look to the shell-shocked face of Senator Crontike, who recovers remarkably fast as he steps up on the platform for the cameras.

Of course, our attention is not on the mundane machinations of the political elite. While a senator kicks off his reelection campaign with a set of photos, our focus flies to a different plane carrying a sullen girl home. As it courses through the night sky, its lone passenger sits in her solo cabin. Arms crossed and face screwed up in a picture of teenage maudlin sits Ginny S. Napp, scion and sole heir of the entire Napp fortune.

“So he couldn’t make it because of some dumb superhero?” whines Ginny.

Her earring, a diamond stud, suddenly glints in the light as a metallic voice audible to only Ginny says, “Flight logs indicate that Beacon’s plane touched down only a few minutes ago. It is likely that your father is still at the airport.”

“But I’m his daughter. Beacon’s supposed to be his friend, but then he doesn’t show up for almost six years, what kind of friend does that?” Ginny pouts.

“I am unable to answer Ms. Napp,” says the voice, “government records, however, do indicate that your father and Beacon’s friendship has gone on for many years now, predating your birth.”

Ginny suddenly stops, saying in a hopeful voice, “He knew mom?”

“I am unable to verify that information. However, based on extrapolation of available data, it is reasonable to assume a passing familiarity,” answers the voice.

Crestfallen, Ginny says, “So just a passing familiarity huh? That’s basically everyone who knows dad and none of them will tell me anything.”

The voice goes silent for a second before answering, “Apologies, Ms. Napp, it appears my statement was misleading. I cannot verify anything more than a passing familiarity, but records do suggest the possibility of more. Beacon did attend your parent’s wedding and recorded evidence suggests that while he served as best man, he registered with the bride’s half of the guest list.”

With a frown Ginny says, “That could be an accident or an oversight. My dad’s told me stories about the wedding, he said it was almost entirely run by grandma. She might have just made a mistake and neither of them was brave enough to tell her.”

“I am unable to verify that information,” says the voice.

Waving her hand, Ginny answers, “Oh don’t worry, if you knew grandma you’d understand. Either way, seems like the best way to find out is just to corner Beacon and force him to talk!”

“You wish to engage in combat with the world’s strongest hero?” asks the voice, a hint of incredulity seeping into the dispassionate tone as though even the machine understands the folly of that action.

Tapping her chin, Ginny seems to give the matter some serious thought before she answers, “Not a bad plan, but a little bold. I’ve got to prove I’m better than that Eldritch dummy first.”

“Indeed,” says the machine, a hint of relief in its expression.

“No,” says Ginny, her voice curling in anticipation, “I have a better idea. You said father and him are old friends? Well I think it would be rude if dad forgot to invite his old friend over for dinner. You and I will just need to extend the invitation ourselves, once Beacon says yes dad won’t be able to back out without looking like a jerk and I’ll get my answers!”

Smiling, Ginny reclines her chair as she buckles up and prepares for the landing. We too ought to prepare. For who can say what Ginny’s machinations will eventually uncover? Brace yourself, dear reader, for the past returns with a vengance next week in… “Ghosts of the Past!”