A hot shower helped to improve her disposition. She luxuriated in the steamy spray for a quarter of an hour, much longer than her normal three-minute shower. She spent the next few minutes fighting with her hair under the comfort of the heat lamp. “Honey, there’s a reason speedsters have short hair,” she said to herself in the mirror as she worked out a tangle.
After a couple more minutes that felt like an eternity, she dressed in a pair of jeans and an oversize flannel shirt, because she still felt the chill of the previous night in her bones. When she finally checked the clock, she saw that almost half an hour had passed, and she hoped Jason had waited for her.
Her worries turned out to be unfounded. Jason was lounging in one of the overstuffed chairs, his feet up on a coffee table, and watching classic rock videos on one of the big screen TVs. “Hey.” She sat in the chair next to his.
“Hey,” he said. “I brought you coffee.”
“Oh, uh, thanks,” Sally said. “I don’t really drink coffee, though.”
Jason looked surprised. “You don’t? Why not?”
“I don’t know. I just never started.” She picked up the cup and sniffed it, wrinkling her nose.
Jason shrugged and took a deep sip from his own cup. “You will,” he said, sounding confident. “I didn’t used to drink it, but a month on night shift monitor duty cured me of it.”
“I actually stay away from caffeine as much as I can,” said Sally. “Imagine having jitters at super-speed.”
“I never thought of that. Must be uncomfortable.”
“Yeah.” Sally smiled. “It was a nice thought, though. Thanks anyway.”
“No problem. So, how was it last night?”
“Scary. We could have all died if Stacey and Eric hadn’t been able to contain the thing.”
“Juice said it was you who identified it as antimatter. How’d you know?”
“Just lucky, I guess.”
“Don’t worry about being scared. I was terrified the first time I got deployed. At least you guys got the power back on.”
Sally laughed. “Yeah. You want to know anything about power lines, transformers, or fuses, just ask me. I’m like an expert or something now.”
Jason smiled and brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Listen, I did want to ask you something. Do you like rock music?”
“Sure, I guess so. Why?”
“Well, my band is playing Friday at a club downtown and I was wondering if you’d like to come hear us?” Jason blushed.
“You’re in a band? What do you play?”
“Guitar.”
“What’s it called?”
“Velma’s Glasses.” He blushed even more. Sally thought it very, very cute.
“Like in Scooby Doo. That’s cool. How do you find time to be in a band?”
“Well, we’re not on duty all the time. I try to have a life outside of being a superhero.”
It was Sally’s turn to blush. Very little went on in her life not somehow tied to her powers. Having been raised by a mother and grandmother who both had the same powers had meant much of her life had already been planned for her. She’d trained to be a superhero from early childhood and had gone from home-schooling straight to the Hero Academy. Summer “vacations” had consisted of visits to different heroes or coaches around the country with her mother. She didn’t even have a drivers’ license, never having needed a car to get from point A to point B.
“I’d love to come hear you play,” she said.
Their radios beeped. “Anyone who’s not busy, come to the conference room or log into the primary feed,” said Juice.
Jason and Sally looked at each other and shrugged. He clicked off the TV and picked up his coffee. “We’re playing at eight o’clock. Do you want to ride over with me? Then you could meet the other guys before we do our sound checks.”
“Sounds fun.” She wondered if that counted as a date. She’d never dated during her time at the Academy. When she wasn’t in class, she studied or trained. It occurred to her that she didn’t even know how to date.
Jason led her to the workstation in the corner. She sat in front of the keyboard. He spun his chair around behind her to look over her shoulder. It felt almost intimate to Sally the way she could sense his presence behind her. He showed her which icon enabled the feed. The light on the workstation’s webcam brightened. Multiple camera images on the flatscreen showed Juice, Forcestar, and Sondra in the conference room, while Jack was logged in remotely from the firing range. Neither Glimmer nor Doublecharge had signed in. “We’re here, Boss, me and Sally.”
“Good,” said Juice. “We’ve got a call from Deep Six and I wanted anyone available to listen in.” The word CONNECTED flashed on an otherwise blank window. Juice tapped a control to reveal the warden of Deep Six.
William Silbersack had once been a hero known as The Neutralizer, for his ability to prevent other parahumans from using their powers. Upon his retirement, he’d gone into corrections and had been instrumental in the development of the ultra-secure underground prison for parapowered felons. He had long since foregone the trappings of costumes and now wore a dark blue jumpsuit with the Deep Six insignia over the breast pocket. He had gray-streaked black hair and sharp blue eyes. “Hello, James and company.”
“Bill,” said Juice. “How’s your newest inmate?”
“Well, that’s why I’m calling. Your creature is not a creature, she’s a human, and I think she’s a victim of some sort of cruel experiment.” All traces of humor left the Warden’s demeanor. “We’ve got her de-magnetizing slowly in a containment sphere that we rigged up. We’ve worked out a method to keep her body sufficiently charged without her innate fields degrading and allowing her antimatter particles to come into contact with any matter. It’s not been easy.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Frankly, I’m surprised we didn’t blow ourselves right out of the ground.”
“What makes you think she’s a victim of an experiment?” Sondra asked.
“She doesn’t have any memory of the events of last night. The last thing she said she remembered was walking home from her job. As near as we can tell, that was something like a month ago. She doesn’t understand what’s happened to her.”
“Does she remember her name? We should at least notify her family what’s happened to her and that she’s going to be okay,” Juice said.
“Well, that’s another problem altogether. She’s from San José, Guatemala. It’s a coastal town. She doesn’t speak any English and her Spanish is pretty bad. She’s mostly using some kind of local ladino tongue that nobody here can understand.”
“Guatemala,” said Sondra. “That’s where Destroyer is.”
“Could be a coincidence,” said Forcestar.
“Yeah, right.” Jason snorted in derision.
“Agreed,” said Juice. “Bill, keep talking to the woman. Get whatever you can from her. In your opinion, is she no longer a threat?”
“That’s my assessment.”
“I’ll make a call to Dr. Devereaux in Paris. She’ll make sure that your captive gets proper care and treatment,” Juice said.
“Fair enough. I’ll notify you if there’s any change in her condition. Deep Six out,” said the Warden, and broke the connection.
Juice leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. Sally squinted into the screen. The bags under his eyes had bags of their own. She suspected he hadn’t slept since they’d deployed the night before. “What time is it in Paris? Anyone know?”
“Quarter to midnight,” Sondra answered.
“Grace is probably gone for the day. Everyone’s got to sleep sometime.” Juice yawned. “I’ll shoot off a quick email.”
“Then you’d better hit the sack yourself, boss,” Jason said. “You look like shit.”
Juice gave him a weary smile. “Thanks, Jason. I wasn’t sure until you mentioned it. Sondra, since Stacey’s still out of commission, request permission from Homeland Security for us to leave the country on an investigati
on. We should follow up on this sighting of Destroyer. I don’t believe this is a coincidence for a second.”
“I’m on it.”
Juice yawned again. “Okay. For the next six hours I don’t want to be disturbed for anything less than imminent global destruction. Meeting adjourned.”
Jason reached past Sally and closed the feed program. She caught the scent of his skin as he did so—clean, with a hint of some kind of sweet soap and under that the tang of sweat. It made her shiver in a delicious way. The response of her body to his nearness frightened her a little, and she almost leaped out of the chair.
“You okay?” he asked her.
“Yeah,” she said. “I just remembered something I was going to do. I’ll… I’ll talk to you later, Jason.”
He smiled at her. “Count on it.”
She forced herself not to run at super-speed down the hall as she retreated into her quarters. She closed the door behind her and put her back against it, as if to make sure it would stay shut. Her heart threatened to hammer its way out through her ribs. Her cheeks burned and she felt dizzy. “Stop it,” she whispered. “You’re being silly.” However, when she closed her eyes, she saw the blue of Jason’s sparkling eyes and the curve of his chin dotted with blonde stubble.
Sally stalked into the bathroom to splash some water on her face. She glared at her reflection with a droplet of water perched precariously on the end of her nose. “Get a hold of yourself, you.” She pointed at herself. “You’re here to become a superhero, not to get a… a boyfriend.” She spat the last word with as much venom as she could muster.
Nevertheless, Jason had asked her out, and she’d accepted the invitation without a moment’s hesitation. Backing out would be awkward. Very well, she’d go to hear his band play. It wouldn’t be a date, it would be two friends going out together. That was an idea she could accept without wincing at the thought of dating a coworker.
Pleased with herself, Sally turned her attention to other matters. The recent mentions of Destroyer had her desperate to learn more. She knew Just Cause kept terabytes of information in the supercomputers beneath the complex, but there was also a sizable repository of non-electronic media. It was a trophy room of sorts, filled with sixty years’ worth of items and objects that had helped to shape the team’s history.
She’d begin her research there. She examined the map of the compound until she felt sure she could find her way down to the Archives, and then left her room.
“Oh, hi Sally,” said Sondra as she passed down the hall, her wings held back out of the way. “What are you up to?”
“Hey Sondra, I was just going down to the Archives.”
Sondra smiled. “I love the Archives… so much history. I majored in History. In fact, I’m still working toward a Ph.D in it.”
“Cool. What’s your specialty?”
“Indigenous tribes of the American Southwest. Doesn’t that sound impressive?”
Sally nodded.
“People always expect me to say parahuman history, but that’s already been done to death by so many others. Besides, a girl likes to know a bit about her ancestry.” Sondra flipped her wings for emphasis.
Sally started to reach out to touch one, but stopped for fear she might offend the winged woman.
“It’s all right. I don’t mind. Just don’t yank on a feather that’s still attached. It hurts like tweezing out nose hairs. If you want a souvenir, just stop by my room.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m always molting.”
Sondra folded one wing around to where Sally could stroke the long brown and black feathers. Soft and smooth, they exuded a comforting, familiar scent. “Is that… baby powder?”
“Yes,” replied Sondra. “My natural oils have kind of a funky odor, so I powder the feathers. It keeps the smell from getting overpowering, since bathing with them is a major operation.”
“I never thought about that. It must be pretty difficult. Same as for dressing, I bet.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad.” Sondra chuckled. “Especially if I have help. I can’t shower unless I’m not going to fly for a full day, but I love to take baths. All my clothes are specially tailored. It’s not really any tougher to put them on than to put on a bra. I hate wearing them, though. I can’t fly with one on.” She sighed. “If only I were smaller.”
Sally laughed. “I’ve wished I was bigger for years. Maybe we should switch.”
Both women giggled at the thought.
“You know,” said Sondra. “I’m not doing anything at the moment. Want company in the Archives? I know my way around down there pretty well. When we moved everything out here, I oversaw the setup.”
When the terrorists destroyed the Twin Towers in 2001, Just Cause lost several members and its New York headquarters. Some items in the Archives were destroyed as well, although the majority of them had been stored off-site in the Second Team’s facility in Virginia. Some remained there, while others had been brought to the new Denver headquarters.
“Sure, I’d love the help,” admitted Sally. “I don’t really know my way around here yet… or around Just Cause systems, for that matter.”
Sondra led her down the hall to the elevators. “What are you looking for?”
“I want to know more about Destroyer.”
“Well, we’ve got a lot about him. He’s been a thorn in our side for a quarter century.” They boarded an elevator and headed down.
The Archives were stored in a long, wide room. File cabinets lined one wall, which contained documents dating back to Georges Devereaux’s original pre-World War II research into parahumans. Adjacent to the paper files were microfiche copies of the same things, all of which had since been converted into electronic files. Nothing had ever been intentionally discarded, in case a crucial piece of information didn’t get transferred between formats. The wall opposite the files was lined with racks, shelves, display cases and free-standing objects which were somehow relevant to Just Cause history. Each object was tagged with a bar code linked to the total of all related information about it in the computer system. The labels had fantastic-sounding names for often-mundane objects. A twisted steel shaft caught Sally’s eye. Arrow belonging to Dr. Danger, Irradiated by Unknown Parahuman, 1949. She reached out to touch it.
“What is it?” asked Sondra.
“This was my grandfather’s,” Sally caressed the arrow as if she could feel the history in the blackened metal.
They moved on, past Tyrant I’s Mind Control Device (deactivated), 1957 and Voltage’s Mask, 1972. Sally stopped in front of a large display case, which contained an unrecognizable piece of burned machinery and read the placard. Remains of Destroyer’s Left Medial Arm, v. 1.0, 1977.
“That’s it,” she whispered.
Sondra moved next to her, her wings rustling. “1977,” she read. “That would have been his first appearance. New York Blackout. He was thirteen years old.”
“How does someone so young have so much hate?” asked Sally. “I read about this. He killed like fourteen or fifteen people in his neighborhood.”
“And his mother too. They should have executed the little shit,” said Sondra, “but he was a juvenile. They wouldn’t try him as an adult, even when the Feds tried to intervene.”
“Let’s go look at his file.”
“You get started,” said Sondra. “I’m going to go get some coffee. From the look on your face, we might be down here awhile. You want some?”
“Coffee? No thank you, but I’d take some hot chocolate.”
“You got it.” Sondra paused by the elevator. “Sally?”
“What?”
“We’ll catch him. He’ll be brought to justice.”
Sally smiled. “I know we will. Someday.” She opened his file, and her mother’s name jumped out at her. It was the original report on Destroyer’s first appearance in 1977, written by her mother. Sally calculated the dates and figured her mother would have been twenty-three years old at the time. She read the page-lo
ng report, then set it down, taken aback by her mother’s careless typing and lack of detailed information.
“Come on, Mom,” she grumbled. “This is the best you could do?” She turned the page in the hope there would be more, but the next sheet was blank except for a stamp: MULTIPLEPAGESMISSING 10/28/2001. Sally shuddered at the innocuous words. This file had survived the destruction of Just Cause headquarters in the World Trade Center. She wondered how much of the original file on Destroyer was simply gone. She went to the computer records and discovered the same missing information. Obviously, the file hadn’t been scanned before its recovery.
“Well, crap.” She pulled up a list of Just Cause members from ’77. Her mother was still alive, but Sally hadn’t ever been able to extract much information from her. The woman didn’t want to talk about the events that had taken away her husband. What Sally knew, she’d had to glean from other sources. Most of the other heroes from what people referred to as the Second Generation era were deceased. Tornado had succumbed to AIDS in ’85. Six more of them were killed when Destroyer hit Tornado’s funeral in a devastating sneak attack. The rest had died in the World Trade Center, except for one. The last name on the list jumped out at her: John Stone.
John Stone was not only still alive; he was the vice principal for the Hero Academy. He’d been part of Just Cause when they first encountered Destroyer, and he had survived the attack at Tornado’s funeral. If anyone could shed some light about Destroyer’s past, he could. And with his open, cheerful demeanor, he might answer the questions that Sally’s mother wouldn’t.
Sally pulled up the number for his office and dialed.
Chapter Eight
With the growing numbers of parahumans and the increasing diversity of powers, it was only a matter of time before someone successfully duplicated some of the abilities technologically.
We just didn’t expect it would be a thirteen-year-old boy.
-Rick Lyons (Lionheart), at a press conference, 1977
January, 2004
Denver, Colorado
The Hero Academy campus was less than a mile from Just Cause headquarters. Sally had lived and studied there for three years. She and her classmates would often sit up on the dorm roof, stare across the distance toward Just Cause headquarters, and discuss which of them might have the chance to join the big team. Most of them had agreed Sally was the candidate Most Likely to Join Just Cause, given her lineage and her exceptional parapower. Sally’s class was the largest ever for the Academy at the time, graduating a total of seven. The current crop of seniors counted eight, and the two younger grades both stretched into double digits.
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