by Nick Svolos
I went back to the search results and called up some news reports from the ‘50s. The articles confirmed the powers, although the digitized versions of the old analog photos were of insufficient resolution to give me further evidence to support my growing suspicion.
But still, anything was possible. Maybe Ultiman was immortal, maybe Major Justice was his grandfather, or maybe the two men were completely unrelated and just have the same face and powers as a matter of coincidence. I decided to keep my options open until I had the facts, but operate with the theory most likely to be correct, that the two men were one and the same.
My ruminations were cut short as the cab came to a halt and the driver announced that we had arrived. I paid the man, got a receipt for the Beacon and got out. As he drove off, I took a look around. We were in an area of town dedicated to warehouses. Most of them were dilapidated, and the one I stood before was no different, although I could see that in this case, it was just for show. The arched roof was well maintained, where its neighbors were sagging. The windows were boarded up, whereas those on the others had been broken into. I walked up and knocked on the door, but there was no answer.
I figured I must have gotten there first, and I hoped that Sinfonie was alright. I looked around and found a dark section of shadows to conceal myself in. There was no reason to hang around in the open. If Longshot somehow tracked me here after his tangle with Sinfonie, I didn’t want to make his job any easier.
I settled in and started back in on my research on my phone. I decided to see what SuperPedia had on Gale. Amid the usual nonsense mingling with verifiable facts, I found a section of speculation on her fate. One poster wrote that Gale had been shot by a Chinese fighter plane over the demilitarized zone late in the war and the government had covered it up rather than face accusations of cease-fire violations. Another held the view that she had gone missing in a covert operation in enemy territory. It went on like this, rumors presented as fact, supported and decried by other posters as conversations degenerated into little flame wars that flared and terminated only as other ridiculous theories took their place. One of the theories seemed plausible. The theory held that Gale left the war because she was pregnant.
I decided to run it down. I went back to the search engine, plugged in Gail Crenshaw and found a puff piece that the Los Angeles Times had done on her several years ago. It was the typical Sunday Style section article, but included a mention of a son, Stephen, who served with the U.S. Army in Vietnam. He died in 1972 at the age of nineteen. I did the math and came up with his year of birth being around 1953, just after Gale went missing in 1952. There was a mention of her marrying her late husband, Eric Crenshaw, also in 1952.
I thought about the photo. She was standing very close to the man I believed to be Ultiman, and what I had taken as a display of flirtatious camaraderie could also have been something else. Perhaps an indication of a personal relationship.
It fit. If I was right, Gale was pregnant when she left Korea. If she was involved with Major Justice, who may actually be Ultiman, Stephen was his child. It was a lot of “ifs”, but my instincts told me I was on to something. Working it through in my head, it was easy to see a scenario where Gail Crenshaw would have a motive for her actions. As they say, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” Maybe Major Justice/Ultiman sent her away after she became pregnant with his child. If all this was correct, Gale was playing the long game. She wanted revenge, I thought, and the cape-killers were her opportunity. How else could you kill a man who can’t be killed?
A voice appeared in my head. “It’s OK to come in now, Reuben.” I looked up to see Sinfonie holding the door to her warehouse open. I crossed the street and followed her in. “You know you’re bleeding, right?”
As if on cue, the pain in my left cheek returned, and I reached up to touch it. I was so deep in thought that I had completely forgotten it. My hand came away with some dried blood on it. “Whoa. I wonder when that happened.”
She stepped closer for a better luck. She shuddered, “A little gift from Longshot. Congratulations, you might be the only target he ever missed. Come on, I have a first aid kit in the bathroom.” The medical supplies were already opened, and I noticed that Sinfonie had a fresh bandage on her arm.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Longshot just grazed me when he broke free. I’m not sure how I’m going to explain this to Joe, though.”
“Does he know about your—well, about Sinfonie?”
“No, and I’d like to keep it that way. This is gonna hurt.” Without waiting for a response, she swabbed some disinfectant on my cheek and cleaned the wound. I held back the flinch and let her do her work. She took a closer look, and frowned, “You’ve got a choice, Reuben. You need a few stitches. I can do it, you can go to an emergency room to get it done, or you can learn to live with the nickname ‘Scarface’. What’s it gonna be?”
Ugh. “Go ahead. If I’m right about what’s going down, we don’t have a lot of time. You got a bullet for me to bite on?”
“I think I can go ya one better, tough guy. This ain’t the old west.” She sprayed something on my cheek and it went numb after a few seconds.
“That’s incredible,” I said. “I wonder how well it mixes with gin.”
“I’ll get you a can and you can tell me, if you don’t go blind.” She pulled out a curved needle and some sterile thread. “So, why’s Longshot after you? I thought he was a bounty hunter. You didn’t go get yourself on the List, did you?”
“I think he’s working for Gale. He’s the one that planted the bomb at the refinery. Seems my story this morning made me a loose end.”
“You certainly do have a knack for getting people mad at you. It’s a wonder you’ve lived this long. I think you’re right about Ultiman and Gale, by the way.”
I held my head still. “What, have you been reading me?”
“Can’t help it. You think too loud. It’s like your head is a radio and your frequency is stuck in my head. It’s been that way since that night.” She didn’t need to tell me which night she meant. “Anyhow, I always know where you are, and if you’re within a mile or two, I get your surface thoughts, strong feelings, stuff like that. I generally try to ignore it, just out of common courtesy.”
Spooky. “OK, so you think I’m right, huh? Why?”
“Well, if some guy knocked me up and sent me packing, I’d be looking for blood, too.”
“It all happened in a war zone. Could be he sent her away to protect her.”
“If that was the case, she wouldn’t have married someone right away like that. If she thought he was coming back to her, she’d have waited.” I realized she was probably right.
She stepped back and appraised her work. “Damn, Mom was right, I should have been a doctor.” She began applying a bandage to my face, “If Longshot catches up to you again, tell him to shoot you somewhere else. I hate to see my work ruined.”
She shooed me out of the bathroom as she cleaned up the mess and put the kit away. I walked around her hideout. At the far end was a fairly expensive-looking computer setup and a small kitchen. I smelled fresh coffee, and I started toward it like a moth to flame. The rest of the room held several trophies and quite a few objet d’art. I assumed these had been “liberated” from the environmentally-destructive corporation types she used to prey upon. It all looked very valuable. “I’m surprised you still have this place.” I found a couple of mugs and started preparing a couple of cups of coffee.
I heard her laugh from the bathroom. “Well, it turns out it’s not as easy to walk away from the Life as I thought. I must have decided to burn this place to the ground at least a half-dozen times, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I still don’t understand why.” She took the coffee I offered her and strode to the computer. “Let’s see what we got.” She pressed a button to turn off her network router, and booted the computer. It came to life in seconds and she logged in. “I still can’t believe Crenshaw. Galestorm
, Stormfront, and using her granddaughter’s name as a password. Even her hero name is a homonym of her real name. Hiding in plain sight, what the heck is she thinking?”
“Sometimes it works. I think the real reason is she wants someone to figure it out.”
Sinfonie regarded me like I had just said something crazy. “Come again?”
“Gail Crenshaw’s done some amazing things with her life, and the public only knows half the story. Besides her successes in the normal world, she’s been a powerful superhero and fought in a war. When she came home, there were no parades. Nobody ever thanked her. This whole thing reeks of breadcrumbs. I mean, why would she keep her trophy room downtown at her office? I’m sure she could keep all that much more securely at her home or a warehouse like this. When she dies, she wants that room to be found. I don’t know, I’m no psychologist, but that’s my take on it.”
She thought about it as she started bringing files up on the screen. “Hmm, don’t sell yourself short. It works for me, at least. She could have named herself ‘Stormy’ or something, but she chose a homonym. Now that you mention it, ‘Sinfonie’ shares a syllable with ‘Cynthia’. I might be a little guilty of that, myself. Coming up with the damned moniker is the hardest part of this business. How ‘bout the password, though? How does that fit in with your theory?”
“That, I chalk up to the fact that the eighty-four-year-old CEO of the world’s largest tech company can’t be bothered with such nonsense. She probably figured her security was so strong that it didn’t matter. It took someone like you to hack it. How many more people like you are out there?”
“None that I’m aware of, but it’s a big world. Still, seems like a bad risk for her to take.” She spotted something in one of the files, “Whoa, check this out!”
The file was a metallurgical report, and addressed directly to Gail Crenshaw. I didn’t understand all the jargon in the report itself, but there was an executive summary. I could understand that, at least. It described the properties of a metal found in the meteorite they’d retrieved from Brazil. The metal was of a composition that had never been found on Earth, and had properties that were similar in effect to the radiation used in a nullifier beam. There was some conjecture that the rock might have passed through a field of such radiation on its way to Earth, but nothing conclusive.
Further documents allowed us to piece together the trail of the metal from the rainforests of Brazil to the final product: one hundred and ninety rounds of ammunition stored in a vault in the basement of the Galestorm Tech tower downtown. Ten more rounds had been allocated to someone named “Agent 17”, who I took to be Longshot. We had found the cape-killers.
The door to the warehouse crashed in, knocking over a vase and sending it crashing to the floor. Herculene stepped in and dropped into a fighting crouch. Sinfonie, anger in her eyes, leapt to her feet, “Hey, do you have any idea how much that thing cost the guy I stole it from?”
The warrior goddess ignored her words but never took her eyes off her body. “Reuben, are you alright? What happened to your face?” Without waiting for an answer, she started advancing on Sinfonie, malice in her voice. “If you’ve hurt him, you’re dead.”
I didn’t have to be a genius to know where this was going. I leapt to my feet to put myself between the two women, shouting, “I’m fine! I’m fine!”
Sinfonie pushed me to one side, clearing the path between her and Herculene, “Try it, baldy!”
“Sinfonie, you’re not helping!” I said as I saw Herculene tense and get ready to launch herself at the my lifelong friend. I stepped back into the line of fire and shouted as loud as I could, “Ladies, put ‘em back in your bras, dammit!”
It was almost funny how both of them looked at me with first shock, then anger. Well, funny until you realize that one could beat me to a pulp while the other could fry my brain. Actually, it’s still funny, but I have a weird sense of humor. At any rate, it silenced both women, and bought me a couple of moments.
I took advantage of the temporary lull. “OK, now we’re all going to count to ten before doing anything else. Then I’ll explain how we’re all on the same side here. Then we’ll have a good laugh and be friends. Got it?”
“Reuben, get out of the way,” Herculene said angrily, but she didn’t make a move. “That’s Sinfonie. She’s a known felon. She’s controlling you. You have to fight it!”
Oh, for crying out loud. I decided to start the count, anyway. “One, we’re all calming down. Two, nobody’s under anyone’s control. Three, I know that’s exactly what I’d say if I was under someone’s control, so don’t bother pointing it out. Four, we’re still calming down. Five...” I continued the count, making jokes and what I hoped were valid points until I got to the end. “OK, are we all calm now? Can we talk?” Both women nodded warily. “Now, I know you’re a superhero and a supervillain and there are going to be some trust issues, but we’re gonna work through them. We’re all on the same side here. Herculene, Sinfonie’s found the cape-killers. The evidence is right over there on the computer.”
Herculene looked suspiciously at me, “Reuben, it could be a trap. How do I know it’s really you in there?”
“I could share some personal information, but you know I’d rather not.” She was taken aback by that. She knew what I meant. “You asked about the wound on my face. Longshot took another shot at me. Sinfonie saved my life.”
Concern replaced the anger on Herculene’s face, “Good lord, again?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s working for Crenshaw. Herculene, she’s Gale, G-A-L-E, from the 1950’s. We think Ultiman got her pregnant during the Korean War and she’s been nursing a grudge ever since. The bullets are her endgame.”
The warrior goddess shook her head. “That’s ridiculous, Ultiman’s in his thirties.”
“As he was when he went under the name of Major Justice. I think he’s an immortal, or at least he ages really slow.”
Herculene relaxed a little. “Well, nobody but you could make up a story like that.” She looked over my shoulder at Sinfonie, “Truce?”
“Truce,” I heard Sinfonie say. “But I’m sending you guys a bill for the door and the vase.”
“You guys can work that out later. For now, come over here and look at what we found.” I led the way back to the computer and the two women followed. Sinfonie sat down at the desk and walked us through the evidence for Herculene’s benefit. I explained which parts of the story we knew to be fact and which were conjecture, and Herculene tried her best to poke holes in the narrative, but was unable to knock it down. The trail from Gail to the bullets was ironclad, and the link to Fourstar Transport was solid.
Once we were done, Herculene said, “Well, it’s shaky, but good enough to work from. I need to call this in.” She reached up to tap the communicator in her ear just as the device exploded in a shower of sparks. Herculene cried out in pain and crumpled to the ground. I jumped up and knelt at her side. She was writhing in pain, and I had to be careful to not get whacked by her in her throes. I asked Sinfonie if she had a pair of tweezers and she raced to the medical kit in the bathroom. Herculene screamed in agony as I tried to hold her and offer what comfort I could. I remembered the Angelphone in my pocket and quickly removed it, tossing it into a corner of the room just as it exploded in a similar shower of electronic mayhem.
Sinfonie returned with the medical kit and handed me the tweezers. I told Herculene to remove her hand from her ear, and with an effort, she mustered the will to do so. She whimpered like a child but held perfectly still as I reached in with the tweezers and removed the still sparking device. I could feel the electricity shocking my hand as I did so. It wasn’t enough voltage to cause me any difficulties, just a mild, unpleasant tingle, but when pressed against an eardrum, it would be more than enough to incapacitate even someone as hardy as Herculene. I dropped the communicator on the floor and Sinfonie crushed it beneath her heel.
Once the device was removed, Herculene started to recover. I could
tell she was still in immense pain, but she was determined not to let it stop her. Sinfonie took a look at Herculene’s ear and sprayed some of the local anesthetic into the canal. That seemed to help a lot and the hero nodded her thanks.
“Oh, now I’m pissed,” she said as she got to her feet. “I’m gonna yank that computer out of the building piece by piece.”
That reminded me of Herculene’s mission that night, “Did you find out what happened to Archangel?”
“The IT guy was running diagnostics when I got your note. I didn’t stick around for the results. I think we’ve got our confirmation, though.” She glanced at the ruined communicator on the floor. “He told me there was an automatic update that came through last night, when we were all conveniently at the refinery.” She winced and rubbed at her ear.
She continued, “Listen, I have to get back there. If Archangel’s gone rogue, we’ve probably just moved up its timetable. The team’s in danger.” She started to leave, then turned and looked at me. “You’re going back there, too, aren’t you?” She said it with dread in her voice. She knew what I was thinking.
“Well, yeah. I need to see how this plays out, after all.”
She smiled and stepped close to me, “Aw, that’s so sweet,” and then she kissed me and something hit me in the back of the head and the lights went out.
***
I awoke to a pounding headache and the sound of Sinfonie’s laughter. I was laying on my back and my head was resting on something cold. Images swam before my eyes and it took a few seconds for my eyes to regain focus. I tried to get up, but dizziness and pain forced me to lie back down.
