There were people who would have said Jono was one of the lucky ones. He still had his powers. He had his powers. He was in a place where he knew he was safe.

Well, where he would be safe until the government sent in the Sentinels.

He hadn't been there for Ms. Frost's speech where she showed the kids the vision of the giant robots. But he'd done his reading. Even if there were people in the heads (and didn't that sound like some bollocked up Japanese cartoon?), it was still the government behind them. And Jono, as a matter of pride, didn't trust the government. No proper punk would.

As far as that went, though, he probably shouldn't have trusted Mr. Summers or Ms. Frost as much as he did. Or Betsy. He hoped that she was all right. He hadn't heard otherwise, but that didn't always mean much.

He had his powers, but friends had lost theirs. Wing wouldn't be returning to the school. He wasn't certain about Kate or Timothy. Or even June.

Jono didn't feel lucky. He grabbed his guitar and a notebook, heading out to the memorial gardens that he and Kate had once walked around. It was a lot quieter without anybody there. He stopped in front of the statue of a young girl named Blink, staring at her for a long moment before he sat, back to the base of the statue. His guitar came out of the case and he flipped open the notebook beside him, putting a pencil across the paper.

Once that was set, he sat back and started playing whatever came to mind.

It may have taken time, but Jono realized that it wasn't the powers that made him lucky. It was the fact that he was alive, odd though that life may be. He wasn't breathing, eating or anything like that, but he was alive and that was what really mattered.

There, among the statues of the dead, Jonothon Evan Starsmore began to play. Music was his life. Not even government and the Sentinels or lost powers and lost friends could take that from him.

He was alive. He was lucky.

( Dear Gayle, )

---

Jono read over the letter a few more times, then folded it carefully and slipped it into an envelope. Then he stood, taking it downstairs and to the main room, which always had a fire going. Even in the middle of summer, old mansions like this could be drafty. He stood in front of the fire for a moment, turning the letter over and over in his hands before throwing it into the flames and walking away.

It was better this way.

This is the beginning of the journal for Jonothon "Jono" Starsmore, aka Chamber, member of the game westchester_x2.