West Pacific Supers: Rising Tide
Page 1
WEST PACIFIC SUPERS:
Rising Tide
by K.M. Johnson-Weider
Copyright © 2011 Blue Moon Aurora, LLC
Cover art by Eric J. Carter, © 2011 Blue Moon Aurora, LLC
Published by Blue Moon Aurora, LLC
First published July 2011
All rights reserved.
eISBN: 09837984-0-8
eISBN-13: 978-0-9837984-0-8
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A special thanks to everyone who provided early reader feedback (Darcie Chan, Waylon Jennings, Gene Johnson, and Ron Johnson) and an extra special thanks to Terry Johnson for her unremitting enthusiasm for reading every draft and providing much-appreciated encouragement and feedback throughout the process. Finally, we must thank the core group of players whose enthusiasm for the West Pacific Supers setting over the years gave us the confidence to write this book: Alton, crazy_monkey, hippokrene, Lightknight, Shylocke, and wordartist179.
West Pacific Supers takes place in a world very similar to ours. While many of the locations and business names may be familiar, this is entirely a work of fiction and real products, corporate names, and locations are used solely as a literary device. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. The actions depicted are not real and are not based on real events. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For more information about West Pacific Supers and future releases:
www.westpacificsupers.com
www.bluemoonaurora.com
Any fool can handle a crisis; it’s the day-to-day living that gets you down.
— Anton Chekov
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 1
11:22 p.m., Thursday, March 21st, 2013
1050 Progress Street, Industrial Island
West Pacific, CA
“I really need to retire,” said Mr. Awesome as he did a quick sprint from the dark alley and jumped over the security fence. It was a textbook landing on the other side, not surprising as it was a maneuver he must have done hundreds of times before. However, a sharp pain stabbed his left knee as he landed; his knee had never healed properly from that fight with Dr. Duality three years ago. He tried to ignore the pain as he moved quickly across the empty parking lot to the nearest building; twenty years ago he could outrun any car on the highway, but nowadays it had to be rush hour for him to catch a speeding vehicle. Still, he was fast enough to close small distances quickly and escape detection, especially at night.
“Mr. A, you’ve got at least five more years before you’re too old for fieldwork,” said Dr. Annie Sterling, West Pacific Super’s operations director, in his earpiece. She was monitoring the situation from headquarters miles away across the bay in West Pacific proper.
“Tell that to my knee,” said Mr. Awesome as he stopped to catch his breath while remaining hidden along the wall beside a dumpster.
“I asked about your knee during last Thursday’s training session,” said Dr. Sterling crossly.
“It was fine then,” lied Mr. Awesome.
“Liar. Tomorrow you’ll need a full physical and x-rays, and right now we abort the mission – turn around and get out of there,” said Dr. Sterling with an exasperated sigh. “You know better than to hide injuries, the last thing we need is you on Injured Reserve at the start of the Season.”
“Annie, I’m fine and this is the only night I have open for the next two weeks, so we can’t reschedule,” said Mr. Awesome who began looking around for a way into the factory. It was a rather sprawling building, three stories high, and all the windows and doors looked fairly secure. The only good news was that the lack of lights gave plenty of darkness to hide in, though it could also be hiding surprises and Mr. Awesome didn’t like surprises.
“Fine, but you’re too old for this if you don’t pay attention to your body. You need to pace yourself and you know that,” chided Dr. Sterling.
“Is the lecture done so we can continue the mission?” asked Mr. Awesome.
“Yes, the lecture is done. Anyway, this factory was built in ‘81 just after Industrial Island was constructed. It produced heavy machinery for offshore mining operations until the company that built it went out of business in ‘85. It was leased and partially used by Abracadabra Toys as an assembly warehouse till ‘97 when they moved to their new factory on the mainland. For the last 16 years this place has been traded back and forth between real estate developers while rusting and collecting dust.”
“Who owns it now?”
“Prime Properties Consolidated, a local development group, but not one I have any information on,” said Dr. Sterling. “Remember – it may look abandoned but there were five cars in the north parking lot, which means at least five people and maybe a lot more if they’re environmentally conscious or cheap and car pool.”
“Yeah, I know, stealth, stealth, stealth. Alright, I’m going to take the ladder on the south wall and head up to the roof,” said Mr. Awesome as he jogged a short distance to the ladder. As he climbed, he mentally reviewed the situation.
He was on Industrial Island, an artificial island off the coast of West Pacific City that had been built to house experimental technology research in the ‘80s. The goal was to reverse engineer various alien technologies scavenged after the Vanghel Invasion in 1973, but three decades later there really wasn’t much to show for it. Of course, the government had pulled out funding in the ‘90s. Since then the properties on the island had been leased to various corporations to serve as factories, research facilities, and warehouses, and there was even a small amusement park on the north end. All that was left of the glory days was the tidal power generators in the Pacific, hundreds of high-tech watermills that produced power by the ebb and flow of the tides, and the integrated desalinization/fission power plant, which probably should be closed down but still provided most of the power to West Pacific. Nowadays, Industrial Island was a shadow of its former self, a graveyard of broken dreams and lost fortunes, like this abandoned factory.
The team had gotten a vague anonymous tip on its hotline that there was unusual activity here connected to the recent theft of penta-, pente-, panda-, guacamolezene or something that was some experimental explosive developed by West Pacific Laboratories. The formula and prototype compounds had been stolen in a very slick operation. The anonymous tip was their first real l
ead on the theft, but that in itself was a warning sign. There were three possibilities with anonymous tips. First, someone involved had developed a conscience. Second, it was a tip from a citizen, possibly a vigilante who had stumbled upon the clue. Third, it was a setup. Considering how slick the theft had been, the odds were on option three.
It was said that superheroes don’t break the law, but right now he was trespassing and preparing to break and enter. It was risky. He was team leader and if he was caught then it would be all over the headlines and embarrass the team. Of course, he had been caught before in similar situations and like all things it eventually would blow over. All it took was one real crisis where you saved the day and the public would forgive past transgressions, but until the real crisis came, there would be a media firestorm. He still remembered the time he had been caught breaking into the mayor’s office. And then there had been Polarity’s DUI fiasco. The superazzi were bad enough without handing them some stupid mistake to exploit.
Unfortunately, an anonymous tip with no corroboration would never convince a magistrate to issue a warrant and pursuing a warrant might tip off those involved if they were well connected. The pandaguacomolezene was dangerous, very volatile and in the wrong hands disastrous, so every lead had to be tracked down. So he had to do it like the vigilantes did, which meant sneaking into this abandoned factory and snooping around. He could have asked Seawolf or Starfish to check it out as the factory was on the coast, but both of them were in poor moods at the moment. It was the pre-Season and that meant excessive publicity events, including the dreaded annual Costume Launch, and the Super Draft. White Knight was even busier; Meltdown didn’t have a stealthy bone in his radioactive body, and the glory hound Keystone was sitting out over contract renegotiations. Everyone was tied up at the moment, except for the old man, but if he got caught or messed up then it would be bad, very bad, for the team. This was why he was dressed in an all-black jumpsuit instead of the team’s red and blue costume. He looked more like a ninja than a superhero, though a ninja with a paunch he thought ruefully.
“You know,” Mr. Awesome panted as he reached the roof, “the team really needs a flier.”
“There aren’t any good fliers in the Super Draft this year,” said Dr. Sterling. “Speaking of which, have you made a final decision on the team’s Draft pick?”
“I know Seawolf really wants Danny Chase, and Hodges did sort of tell her she could choose, but we don’t need another water-orientated super – we’re becoming West Pacific Swimmers,” Mr. Awesome said. “We definitely don’t need a wizard no matter what Meltdown thinks. The moment you add magic to a team you start drawing in more magical crises. Remember how things were with Circe on the team?”
“Preaching to the choir, Mr. A. Alright, there should be a few skylights and ventilation ports that can either give you ingress or a view inside. But who do you want from the Super Draft?”
“I just want a kid who doesn’t have a DUI on their record and can handle breaking and entering so I can focus on my golf game,” chuckled Mr. Awesome as he moved to one of the skylights and looked in.
“You don’t play golf, but I like Cosmic Kid – he’s like a young version of you, just smarter and better looking,” said Dr. Sterling.
“Yeah, but the word is that he hasn’t rebounded from that scuffle with Seneschal X and we don’t want to recruit a kid who is going to be in therapy more than in the field,” said Mr. Awesome examining the skylight. “I’m seeing nothing here; the window is painted over.”
“Then it’s probably going to be dark in there,” said Dr. Sterling. “Did you bring the MOSED?”
“The what?” asked Mr. Awesome, struggling to find the powered screwdriver on his utility belt.
“The multi-spectrum optical enhancement device!”
“Oh, you mean the night goggles,” said Mr. Awesome. “No, they make me nauseous.”
“They aren’t night goggles,” said Dr. Sterling indignantly. “That’s like calling a HoloBerry a phone.”
Mr. Awesome grunted; he was holding a flashlight in his mouth to free his hands to work the screwdriver on the bolts holding the skylight window in place.
“If Cosmic Kid hadn’t suffered some trauma after his fight with Seneschal X, I would be more worried about him,” said Dr. Sterling. “He’s done very well with Teen Ultimate and I think he should be at the top of our list.”
“Sure, but Tampa Bay is picking him at #3 so we don’t even have a chance at him, do we?” asked Mr. Awesome, stashing the flashlight and unscrewing the remaining bolts as quietly as possible.
“Well, maybe Tampa Bay will get cold feet and go with Flash Freeze,” said Dr. Sterling.
“Annie, is there anything I should know about?” asked Mr. Awesome as he paused from opening the skylight.
“Nope,” said Dr. Sterling quietly.
“Liar, what did you do?” snapped Mr. Awesome.
“Let’s say,” said Dr. Sterling cautiously, “hypothetically of course, that someone started a petition and made sure it gained a lot of signatures, and even generated emails from concerned citizens in Tampa Bay, about Cosmic Kid being an atheist, vigilante-hating, homosexual who was severely traumatized from his recent skirmish with Seneschal X.”
“Annie, that’s horrible!”
“Yes, but not illegal,” said Dr. Sterling.
“It’s libel. Libel is illegal.”
“He is an atheist and has criticized vigilantes, he could be gay, and he likely is traumatized from his encounter with Seneschal X,” said Dr. Sterling. “So it is true, more or less.”
“Annie, that’s harsh. He’s only 19 and that’s poor form in regards to Tampa Bay. You shouldn’t manipulate fellow superhero teams, even ones with pompous morons like Corsair in charge.”
“If Tampa Bay takes online petitions and emails seriously they deserve to be manipulated. Honestly, within a week I could have a million signatures condemning the breathing of oxygen. Any moron with a modem can click on a petition, but Tampa Bay has idiots in PR who honestly are freaking out about this.”
“How do you know that?”
“I hacked their email system. They aren’t going to pick Cosmic Kid,” said Dr. Sterling.
“Damn it, Annie, that is illegal, really illegal!” snapped Mr. Awesome.
“Hey, quiet down there Mr. A! Breaking and entering is illegal as well and look what we’re doing tonight. It’s all relative, shades of grey and all that.”
He sighed. It was pointless to argue with her. “Annie, no more manipulation of Cosmic Kid or Tampa Bay.”
“Fine, the wheels are already turning anyway. We can have whoever we want in the Super Draft.”
“You need to stop doing this stuff; one of these days you’ll get caught.”
“Okay, Mr. A., I’ll be a good girl from now on.”
“Liar. Let’s get this mission done,” he said as he lifted the skylight. “I’m entering the building.”
He lowered himself through the tight opening, swung, and dropped awkwardly down 15 feet onto a metal walkway, making a loud clank as he hit. He pulled himself up and sprinted across the walkway to an area of deeper darkness.
“Damn, Mr. A. you’re making a lot of noise,” said Dr. Sterling. “I told you to use the stealth suit.”
“The stealth suit is uncomfortable as hell,” muttered Mr. Awesome.
She sighed but didn’t press the point. “Okay, you’re moving towards the administrative offices, but let’s check the secondary assembly area first. Go down to the main floor.”
Mr. Awesome paused to listen for anyone in the vicinity, before heading down a nearby metal staircase as quietly as possible. His left knee was acting up again and he grimaced from the pain. He shook it off and looked around a largely empty room that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. “Nothing here.”
“Alright, there should be doors to the north and a hallway that will lead to the main assembly area,” said Dr. Sterling.
He nodded and heade
d for the doors, which weren’t locked, and soon was walking down a dark hallway. He stopped as he saw light coming through the cracks of the door that led into the main assembly area. “Annie, I think we’ve got something,” he whispered. “I’m going to check it out.”
He moved up to the door and slowly opened it enough to peer through. His view was limited but he saw a pile of silver cylinders each about a yard long and a foot wide and a table in front of them where two men were working on an opened cylinder. He couldn’t see what they were doing, but he kept the door opened just a crack and brought up his micro-camcorder to copy some images to transmit back to HQ. After a few seconds of footage he quietly closed the door and backed away.
“Any idea what that was all about?” he whispered.
“I need a better look… go back and take the first door to your right and go straight down the hall to the second hallway to the right. Then to your left will be a staircase and we can go up and see if we can get a look from above.”
“What’s going on here?” asked Mr. Awesome. “Do you think those cylinders were explosives?”
“If they’re producing the PGZ for those cylinders they would have enough explosive power to level the city – it’s sort of overkill, it would be easier to make a nuclear warhead than synthesize that much PGZ.”
“What do we have on the cars in the north parking lot?” asked Mr. Awesome who suspected they had stumbled upon something big, really big.
“One is a rental, the others are locals, and I’m working up profiles on the owners, but none of them are setting off any flags,” said Dr. Sterling. “We still don’t know if the PGZ is even here, but regardless something is up.”
“$50 says it’s the Infinite Circle,” said Mr. Awesome as he finally reached the staircase, quietly opened the door, and headed up the stairs.
“I’ll take that and $50 more says it’s a wannabe supervillain,” said Dr. Sterling.
“The WPL heist was professional, not wannabes.”
“Put enough monkeys in a room with typewriters and eventually you’ll get a Shakespearean sonnet,” said Dr. Sterling.