Just Cause: Revised & Expanded Edition

by Ian Thomas Healy

  When the moment was right, he fired. The gelignite-filled arrow hit the U-boat’s deck right where the deck gun was bolted down. The explosion blew the gun right off into the water, along with the gunners manning it. Nevertheless, in the short time it took for that shot, the other soldiers managed to get the strongboxes inside the vessel.

  Adrian was about to say something to Colt but the words stuck in his throat. A Nazi officer was floating in midair, his body limned with a glow of pale energy that was visible even in the light of the flare. He glared at them with the contempt of someone confronting a nest of insects. The feeling of sheer power that came from the man was sobering. Adrian dropped an arrow from nerveless fingers; it splashed into the bilge.

  The officer looked down at two wounded men on the deck, his face devoid of emotion. He raised his hands in an obscene parody of Christ. Raw energy flowed from his hands, incinerating the men and blasting seawater into steam. Satisfied that there was nobody left to be questioned by American authorities or superheroes, the officer landed upon the deck of the U-boat and stepped inside the conning tower.

  The U-boat began to submerge. Colt throttled down. Adrian lowered his bow. The flare arrow finally hit the water and fizzled out into darkness in a few moments. He dropped into the seat next to her.

  “They win this time. We’ll have to find out what they’re going to do with the uranium and get it back.”

  Colt nodded. “Jim said that his unit had investigated the creation of a Nazi parahuman back in the war.”

  “You think that was him?”

  “God, I hope so. Otherwise it means there’s more than one.” Her hands were shaking.

  “Are you all right?” Adrian took her hands in his.

  She nodded. “Combat shakes. I get them every time.” A weak smile crossed her face, now lit only by moonlight. “By the way, I’m Judy.”

  Adrian returned her smile. “Adrian.”

  Those Who Came Before: Dust to Dust

  Thou turnest man to destruction; again thou sayest, Come again, ye children of men.

  -The Order for The Burial of the Dead, The Book of Common Prayer, 1928

  September, 1985

  Kansas City, Kansas

  “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” said the preacher. “Go in peace, and God bless you all.”

  In turn, they each took a handful of dirt and dropped it on the grave containing Thomas Whitman, also known as Stormcloud, but Faith would only ever think of him as Tornado, the soft-spoken boy with the rockstar golden hair and serene smile. It wasn’t until after the Blackout of ‘77 that he’d left behind his sky-blue and white costume for one that was hooded and dark, that matched the moodiness of his new identity and the swirling black clouds in his heart.

  AIDS might have waited until 1985 to take his body, but his soul had died years earlier.

  Faith Thompson was uncomfortable thanks to the unusually hot day for September. She was six months pregnant and nine months retired from Just Cause. Bobby, her husband, stood with her, gently stroking her back. He had retired from active superhero duties years earlier, but had taken on the job of Team Administrator, and divided his time between following Faith’s pregnancy and keeping Just Cause operating smoothly.

  All living Just Cause members and alumni had come to the funeral. From the original American Justice team of the late ‘40s came Adrian and Judy Crowley, Faith’s parents, still fit even into their sixties. Lady Athena, who had grown even more elegant over time, stood with the Crowleys, her luscious black curls having long since gone gray underneath the burgundy of her hood. The only other living founder of Just Cause, known more by his heroic guise of Kid Crash than his birth name of Elliott Hines, was no longer the happy-go-lucky underage hero who’d charmed his way into America’s hearts. He’d had double bypass surgery, and the whispers among the parahuman community was that his prognosis for long-term survival was, at best, poor. The White Knight had died in a car crash in ’64, and Isaiah Mohammed, who’d never felt like he truly belonged among all the white parahumans of American Justice and Just Cause, had died just two years ago, angry at society all the way to the end when a stroke felled him in front of his typewriter.

  All members from the Just Cause of the Sixties and Seventies had come as well. John Stone had forsworn his normal fedora for a pair of oversized dark glasses and a jacket bigger than anyone could buy from a Big and Tall men’s clothing store. Lionheart, still looking heroic despite several years of retirement, filled out a dark suit and tie. He was starting to develop a paunch but his mane was as full as ever, framing his face like a tawny halo. He wouldn’t meet Faith’s gaze; there was too much history between the two of them. Beside her, Bobby glared at the lionish man and said nothing. Likewise, too much history.

  The active members of Just Cause wore their costumes out of respect for the dead. They had known Tornado the longest, and his death had hit them the hardest of anyone. The Steel Soldier stood along with Imp, Javelin, and Sundancer, looking as somber as possible for a robot.

  Three generations of the Devereaux family had crossed the Atlantic to be there. Although Georges, the man with whom it had all began, had died thirty years ago, his son Lane, granddaughter Grace, and great-grandson Jean-Michel had all arrived only that morning. Lane had taken his father’s fortune, amassed an even greater fortune, and used it to become the benefactor to the team. Grace was one of the world’s foremost experts on parahuman physiology, and her Institute of Parahuman Medicine in Paris was at the forefront of all research. Jean-Michel was ten, and looked like he’d rather be anywhere but at a funeral.

  The current Just Cause team stood together across the grave. Sundancer’s younger sister, Estella, was a tactical genius and the leader of the team. Ten years younger than her sister, she’d taken the name Sunstorm as a tribute. Beside her were Foxfire, the Timekeeper, Danger, and Fast Break. The newest, youngest members of the team were Juice and Crackerjack. They were still in college, and were strictly part-timers.

  It was the largest collection of parahumans the world had ever seen, all there to pay their final respects to the quiet, friendly man they had all known as Tornado. He had died from advanced pneumonia, although they all knew that it was the compromising of his immune system that had allowed him to contract the deadly illness in the first place. AIDS was the watchword of the day, and despite Thomas Whitman’s sexual proclivities, it was still a terrible shock to all who knew him when he was forced to retire as diseases began wearing him down.

  Nobody knew how long he’d had AIDS, or even from whom he’d contracted it. In his final weeks, he’d worked to try and track down those men with whom he’d had relations, to warn them lest they might continue to spread the infection. In the end, not one of them had come forward to see him, or even contacted him. Thomas had died surrounded by only his teammates, who certainly loved him far more than any of his lovers had.

  The group began to break up, somber and quiet, each hero lost in his or her own thoughts at the graveside.

  Lady Athena hugged Faith carefully as Adrian and Judy looked on with a mixture of sadness and pride. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Faith. You too, Bobby.”

  Faith wiped her eyes. “I just wish it could have been under better circumstances.”

  Lady Athena’s own eyes were bright under her hood. “Your daughter will be a beautiful baby, and will be a great hero in her lifetime. This I know.”

  “Thank you,” Faith whispered.

  “Take care of yourself, Bobby.” Lady Athena’s gaze strayed to Bobby and seemed to grow troubled.

  He nodded and put his arm around his wife. “I will. Can you join us for dinner tonight?”

  “Of course.”

  Faith’s parents walked away with Athena, quiet and introspective. It was an unwritten rule that superheroes died doing their duty, like Flicker and Strongman. Dying young was a privilege of the parahuman condition, and they had somehow avoided feeling death’s sting. It was like living on borrowed time, her mother
had told her, so they cherished every minute knowing it might be their last.

  “Would you bring the car around please, love?” Faith asked Bobby. “I need to sit down for a minute.” He walked away and she found a bench and eased herself down onto it, wishing she had a pillow to sit upon.

  “How are you feeling?” Estella Echevarria walked up with her older sister a pace behind. Her costume sparkled with warm colors in the bright sunshine of the early afternoon.

  “Like a blimp with legs,” said Faith, absently stroking her belly and feeling her daughter kick. Her superspeed powers had vanished literally the moment she conceived. She had been in a panic, for they had never forsaken her before. She flew to Paris on the first available flight to visit Grace at her clinic, sick the entire way. Grace had come to the clinic at three in the morning and run a battery of tests. She hadn’t been able to explain why Faith’s powers had suddenly stopped working, but when Faith described the symptoms of her illness, Grace ran one more test. The discovery that she was pregnant was so startling to Faith that she’d fainted and spent three days in bed under Grace’s watchful eyes. She asked Grace if her powers would come back. Grace couldn’t say. Perhaps it was her body’s way of protecting the unborn baby. All they could do is wait and see. Grace prescribed a strict diet and exercise regimen which Faith had given up her fifth day home and replaced with walks in Central Park and lots of tin roof sundae ice cream.

  “I envy you so much,” said Sundancer. “Bringing a new life into the world.”

  “You could have a baby if you wanted one, stupid,” said Estella.

  “Shut up already, pest.”

  Faith sighed, wishing she could take a really deep breath. “I’ve missed you guys. I miss Headquarters. I even miss your staff meetings,” she said to Estella.

  “Hey, they aren’t that bad. Are they?”

  “Oh yeah, they suck,” said Sundancer.

  “How are the new guys working out?”

  “Well, James is pure business. No fun in that boy at all. Jack’s his complete opposite. And, oh, is he a fox!” Sundancer shivered. “Too bad I’m old enough to be his mother.”

  “It beats me why they’re such good friends. It’s like the Odd Couple or something,” Estella laughed.

  Bobby pulled up in the Skylark and put it into Park, letting it idle while he got out and opened Faith’s door for her. “Ooo, how gallant,” Sundancer said. Bobby’s brow furrowed suddenly in an expression that Faith recognized meant he’d heard something.

  “Bobby?” She asked, worried. He swung his head slightly from side to side, zeroing in on the source of whatever he was hearing. He turned around suddenly and looked up. Faith followed his gaze, as did Sundancer and Estella.

  A plane was falling on them.

  It was some kind of private jet. Its engines were off and the only sound was the air whipping past its hull as it fell in a corkscrewing tumble. Faith would later replay the scene over and over in her mind, torturing herself and wondering if she could have done anything. It seemed like everything was happening in slow motion, but even her advanced perception abilities had vanished with the pregnancy. Several people were running in their direction, but they, too, seemed to be hardly moving at all.

  Faith’s instincts were to run to Bobby, but she struggled to even get up off the bench. Estella wrapped her arms around Faith and pulled, flying as hard as she could to get clear. Sundancer and Fast Break both lunged for Bobby as the plane came down, hitting the ground hard only a few feet from the Buick.

  A puff of warm air blew past Faith. Estella’s powers protected her from heat and she was able to extend the envelope to cover Faith as well. Pieces of the jet and the demolished car whirled outward in every direction, jagged razors of scorched metal. Faith saw a chunk of wing neatly decapitate Danger as he ran. His body took several more staggering steps before falling to the ground. Something long and sharp hit Lionheart in his abdomen and knocked him flying back into a gravestone, which shattered.

  Estella set Faith down about thirty yards away from the crash site. “I can’t carry you any further,” she said, panting with the exertion, “but you should be safe enough here. Are you all right?”

  Faith nodded. She felt a sharp twinge in her abdomen that might have been a contraction. Where was Bobby?

  Estella’s body became consumed in flames as she activated all her powers and truly became Sunstorm. She flew off like a phoenix, heading for the burning wreckage with a vengeance. She drew the flames away from the plane, pulling them through the air into her own fire.

  Faith gasped as another contraction rocked her. No, it’s too soon! In a few seconds it was over, and then Grace Devereaux was kneeling down next to her, holding her hand and calming her. Faith could see Lane towering above, standing protectively over them. Unwilling to leave his daughter, he dug in his pocket, considering, then handed his keys to Jean-Michel.

  “Apportez l’auto,” he said.

  “Mais, Grand-père…” the boy began nervously.

  Lane smiled at the boy, sadness in his eyes from the events that had transpired. “Je vous fais confiance.” I trust you. Jean-Michel gulped and ran toward the distant car, keys held in front of him like a holy talisman.

  The other heroes tore apart the plane with frantic intensity as they searched for the missing. Danger was obviously dead. “I can’t find a pulse!” Crackerjack shouted. He was crouching by Lionheart. Imp was shrinking pieces of the plane while Juice tossed them aside.

  Faith suffered through another contraction, squeezing Grace’s hand. She tried to remember her breathing techniques, but she and Bobby weren’t due to go to Lamaze classes until next month. Where was Bobby?

  Sunstorm gave a roar of dismay, the sound of a plasma jet slicing through sheet metal, as she found her sister amid the wreckage. She gathered up the body in arms aflame and lifted her as easily as if she were a child. Sundancer’s arms and legs dangled in a way that would be impossible if she were still living.

  “There!” Imp cried, and pointed at a piece of wreckage, shrinking it to the size of a postage stamp. Juice pushed another piece aside and came upon the remains of poor Fast Break, who had tried to knock Bobby clear of the plane only to be crushed by one of the engines. Somehow, though, he was still alive. He gasped in agony through the shattered remains of his crash helmet.

  Juice shouted, “Timekeeper, get him into stasis!”

  The Timekeeper stepped up and created a bubble of frozen time around Fast Break.

  Where was Bobby?

  They found him underneath the tail. Fast Break had nearly succeeded in saving Faith’s husband. He was alive, but only barely with a critical head wound.

  “Bag him up, Timekeeper,” said Juice.

  “Already on it.” Another bubble of frozen time formed around Bobby. There was still hope.

  Faith heard sirens faintly, and her next contraction wasn’t so severe. “Help’s on its way,” said Grace, as the Timekeeper put another stasis bubble around Bobby.

  “Where the hell is the pilot?” Juice shouted. He’d torn open the remains of the canopy. “There’s nobody in here!”

  A high-pitched whistling sound rose over the confusion. Foxfire was the first to get it. “It’s a trap! Incoming!” An object was diving from on high, and it was moving fast, a pair of contrails streaking in its wake.

  Steel Soldier’s eye lenses whirred as it focused on the intruder. “BATTLESUIT.UNKNOWN CONFIGURATION.HOSTILE INTENT ASSUMED.INTERCEPTING.” The Soldier snapped on its wings and blue alcohol flames shot out, incinerating a hedge. The robotic hero blasted into the sky like a missile. Half a second later, Sunstorm and Javelin followed suit.

  Imp shrank Bobby and Fast Break down to doll size within their stasis bubbles, then she and the Timekeeper hurried to get them to safety inside a nearby mausoleum.

  Foxfire had no obvious powers. Like the original Dr. Danger, she depended largely on athletic prowess and technological assistance to battle for Just Cause. Instead of arrows,
her specialty was explosives and demolition. She followed the others into the mausoleum, pulling her first aid kit out.

  Another contraction hit Faith, and she winced with the pain. Not yet, she told her unborn daughter. You’re not finished. She faintly heard the sound of an engine and a car braked uncertainly behind her. She craned her head around to see Jean-Michel peeking over the rim of the steering wheel of a Cadillac. Lane ordered him to help Grace with Faith, then slid behind the wheel.

  Between the wiry ten-year-old and his mother, they managed to get the ungainly Faith into the passenger seat of the Caddy. Grace and her son climbed into the back and Lane put the car in gear.

  “No,” said Faith, choking on her own tears. “We can’t leave. The others might need us.”

  “We’ve got to get you to a hospital,” said Grace. “I don’t have anything with me to get your contractions stopped.”

  “Absolutely not!” Faith clenched her teeth, willing her body to obey her. “I won’t leave without Bobby.”

  “All right,” Grace said. “But I’m timing your contractions. If they get any closer together, I don’t care what you want, we’re leaving.”

  The armored figure dropping from the sky fired braking rockets and slowed. Sunstorm, Javelin, and the Steel Soldier surrounded it. The angular armor was a uniform dark blue and looked like something out of an imported Japanese cartoon show. The head turned slightly, examining the Just Cause heroes surrounding it.

  “DO NOT MOVE,” the Steel Soldier said. “WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED.STATE YOUR BUSINESS.” The fifteen-foot-high battlesuit raised a hand and spat a bright globule of energy at the Soldier. The Soldier attempted to dodge but the globule expanded and enveloped the robot in a nimbus of sparks. “SKZZRRT …” The Steel Soldier’s voice failed as the halo of energy condensed into an actinic point in its torso.

  Then the Soldier exploded. Pieces of arms and legs flew in all directions. Irreplaceable components burned and shattered.