SG: The League #1 (part 1 of 3)

[Whistling in the Dark]

      I swear to Christ, it's all Gary's fault.

PROLOGUE

June 19, 2000

      It was a good dinner, all told. A good dinner that became a
good party that went on all night. Old friends had visited.
Dignitaries had sent their regards, and Kent gave a speech that
knocked down the Prudential building. In the wee hours of the
morning Trudy could already see Intercontinental Salvage putting it
back up.
      Dianna stepped up behind her. "Kind of crazy to think about,
isn't it?"
      "Sorta, Dianetics."
      "I think you've used that one before."
      "After all this time? Me repeating a nickname's the least of my
troubles." Trudy looked at the woman -- one of her oldest friends.
"Are you absolutely sure you're doing the right thing?"
      Dianna chuckled. "I'm sure. A chance to see the universe? To
use the Power where it was meant to be used?"
      "Seems to me by definition it was 'meant' to be used wherever
you used it."
      Dianna shrugged. "Yeah, I'm sure. Without the gang around, I
don't think I want to be hanging out here. This way, three of us
will pal around."
      "Yeah, but you'll have to take orders from *Mike.* I mean,
Jesus."
      Dianna half-smiled. "I got used to taking orders from *you,*
didn't I?"
      "Well, sure. But I'm awesome." Trudy looked back out the
window. "Am I crazy--"
      "Yes."
      "Shut up. Whore. Anyway, am I crazy or are they already done
rebuilding the Pru?"
      "They're done. They knew Kent was coming to the dinner, so they
had Boston reclassified as an Omega-3 level reconstruction zone."
      "So, we're a fatty acid?"
      "Pretty much."
      Trudy nodded. "I believe it." She looked back at the table.
Kent had stepped to the side, talking with Healer. *Doctor Tirkoff,*
Trudy reminded herself. With the Chick-Mouse being renamed and
getting out of the superhero business, Elizabeth had decided it was
time to stop using the codename. Kirby was squirming in her arms as
it was, but was weirdly unafraid of the Megapolis Moron. With the
other guests mingling, that left the primary team sitting at the
head table. Mike. Jane. Dani. Mandy. Laura. Maria.
      The Masked Bruce. The Dash. Dangerousgirl. Mastermind. Frigid
Girl. Reflection. And Unorthodoxy and Paragon, of course. The
Adjusted League Unimpeachable. For another few minutes anyway.
      "So, how are you and Jane... I mean, how are you three going
to--"
      "I have no idea," Dianna said, smiling slightly. I'm just going
to get used to wearing a skimpy lame outfit and draping around one
of Mike's leg's. Isn't that what space opera heroines do?"
      "Don't look at me. I had enough trouble working out what
*super* heroines were supposed to do." Trudy smiled a bit. "We
should join them. We're coming up on the end."
      "Right." Dianna paused. "Hey Trudy?"
      "Yeah?"
      "Where's the trash can lid?"
      Trudy paused.
      A hair under seven hours before, Unorthodoxy had been her
office wrapping up the last bits of paperwork. Her last few minutes
on the clock. Her last few minutes of leading what had once been
seen as the most professional force for justice on the planet.
      He had come in. She hadn't seen him coming.
      "You know why I'm here," he'd said.
      Wordlessly, she'd handed the trash can lid to him. And then he
was gone, and she wasn't Unorthodoxy any more. She was just Trudy.
      And he was gone.
      "Where it should be."
      "Enigma is overrated."
      "So am I." She slid in her seat. "Hey, Action teens. What's the
plan?"
      "We were supposed to have a plan?" Mike asked. "God damn it. No
one said there was homework."
      "Says the man who hasn't even *packed* yet," Jane said with a
grin. She was pretty well focused, which was unusual but still.
      Mandy snorted. "*You* people have a plan. Me? I'm getting up at
the same time tomorrow, taking a shower, heading to B Tower and
going to work. Retirement's going to look exactly the same as
fighting crime."
      Dani rolled her eyes. "Rub it in, Harken. I had to get an
apartment. Do you have *any* idea how hard it is to rig up a shower
that will collect radioactives instead of washing them down the
drain to poison the alligators?"
      "I designed that shower, Dani. I think I know *exactly* how
hard it is to rig up."
      "Oh, whatever." She smirked.
      "You're going off and getting married," Laura said. "I've got a
service sector job. Mike, Dianna and Jane are flying off in a
Xolchipalian ship. Mandy's taking over the new Rogers Institute.
Maria's living an accidental heiress's lifestyle." Laura
half-smiled. "No one's said what you're doing now, Trudy. Where do
you from here."
      Trudy shrugged. "I dunno," she said. She pointed. "That way."
      "Actually, you're pointing towards the Atlantic Ocean," Mandy
said.
      Trudy snorted. "So much for my sense of direction." Or
misdirection, she didn't add.
      Laura nodded. "Makes sense." She looked around. "Anyone see my
brother? Or Trans or Mem?"
      "Not for a few," Mike said. "I feel badly for Mem. He wanted to
be in the A.L.U. so badly. He's finally primed to graduate and
there's not going to be one any more."
      "He'll land on his feet," Trudy said. "It's what he does."
      "Yeah," Dianna said. She snickered. "Maybe he'll end up
teaching at the Acadely. Wouldn't that be irony?"
      "It won't happen," Maria said softly.
      There was a ping. The all-call ping. Every person at the head
table tensed --in the past, that ping meant the difference between
life and death.
      <<Hey gang,>> MIKE, the Xolchipalian artificial intelligence,
said with his perfectly modulated, easygoing voice. <<It's time.>>
      "Right," Trudy said. She took a deep breath. "Okay everyone.
You know what to do."
      Mike nodded, taking his Xolchacomm off and setting it in the
center of the table. "So long," he murmured.
      Jane took her Xolchacomm off. It seemed to appear next to
Mike's. "Thank you," she said, simply.
      Mandy took hers off, and put it next to Jane's. It was the
Xolchacomm Kid Solipsism had worn, once upon a time. "I'll never
forget," she said softly.
      Maria took her Xolchacomm off, putting it next to Mandy's. "In
Trashman's name," she said.
      Dani took her Xolchacomm off, flicking it so it skidded next to
Maria's. "Dude," she said. Everyone agreed.
      Dianna took her Xolchacomm off, and gently put it down next to
Dani's. "You know, if you ever need us..." she trailed off. She
realized she didn't know who she was saying it to.
      Laura took her Xolchacomm off, and dropped it next to Dani's.
"Unto the next generation," she said.
      Trudy paused. She thought about the day that Trashman gave her
the emergency beacon. And then the later day, when Mike gave her the
brand new Xolchacomm. They'd upgraded to the more powerful, more
integrated communications system after Trudy had been kidnapped by
the Mega Intelligence Bureau. In a way, the Xolchacomm had been a
victory in her life.
      She took it off, and set it down. "Good night, sleep tight, and
pleasant dreeeeams to you," she sang, softly.
      MIKE's voice echoed from all eight Xolchacomms, in a weird
octophonic sound. <<Thanks, guys. It's been amazing.>>
      There were a series of pops, and the Xolchacomms deformed, the
cases melting from the destruction charges within them, reducing the
Xolchipalian technology that drove them into so much junk.
      "That's that," Mandy said. "Final paychecks will be direct
deposited, for those of you who care about Earth money."
      All eight paused, feeling that weird combination of
uncomfortable, elated and depressed you get when the most important
thing in your life has ended.
      "Okay, I need another drink," Dianna said. "None of us are role
models any more. Who wants to get plowed?"
      The party went on for a long time. There was word from Jenny
and Joel, and all the heroes you'd expect to show up or send word
did. There were tears of sadness and tears of joy, and at one point
there was a cool dance number. No one attacked or threatened undying
revenge.
      And then Trudy slipped out of the room, and went away before
anyone noticed. She didn't do goodbyes. She got to where she'd
cached her things, and took off the party dress. Instead she wore a
tee shirt with a flannel over it and a worn pair of jeans. And she
walked through the streets of Boston, pointed more or less East.
      The sky was getting lighter when she reached the docks. She
made her way to where the private boats were moored -- far from the
commercial shipping lanes or slips -- and down to where she'd had
the sloop tied off. She hadn't told the others about this. She
wanted just to fade away, see what happened next.
      He was waiting on the dock, next to the boat. His face was
scarred. His body clearly twisted even in the wheelchair.
      Four times he had clearly died now. The last time by Trudy's
own hand. And yet there he was, wearing a trenchcoat and a small
smile. And Trudy found herself smiling back.
      They nodded to each other. They didn't speak. They didn't need
to.
      Trudy cast off as he watched. She motored out into the bay,
knowing he was watching as the sloop putted out.
      *Trashgirl* was written across the boat's aft. *Boston, MA.*
      Once clear of the harbormaster's domain, Trudy hoisted the sail
and set the jenny. She killed the diesel and let the weird quiet
take over. She pointed due East, where golden light was meeting her.
A girl once known as Trudy Galloway, then Trudy Unorthodox, then
Trudy Galloway once more... Unorthodox Girl, Unorthodox Lass,
Unorthodoxy... a woman given command of one of the most powerful
teams ever known on this world, a girl who'd known love and loss,
pain and pride, the best of man and the worst, sailed straight down
the throat of a new day, and didn't look behind her as she went.


                             THE LEAGUE
                             Episode 1
                             Aftermath
                                by
                           Eric A. Burns
           Who swears to Christ this is all Gary's fault.



October, 2007

      The Scions of the Phoot owned Boston's North End, at least if
you asked them. Whether it was the presence of all the Italian
restaurants and pizzarias or just because they didn't want to fight
the roving Crew Sculler gangs along the Charles River wasn't easy to
say.
      Still, the Scions of the Phoot used their ancient techniques
and powerful bad pizza magic to terrorize their neighborhoods and
bend the people to their will. Or that was the plan. Sadly for the
gang, it never quite worked out that way.
      "*Shiny!*" Hazard shouted, wheeling and firing an explosive
charge in between three Scions. The explosion threw them every which
way. "Heads up!"
      "I see them," Reflects said, coolly, kicking off a wall and
going down to a three point stance. Where her hand and feet touched
the ground a small trail of silver glistened, as bright as the
mirror force over her skin and hair, and she slid towards the knot
of gangers almost frictionlessly, bowling them over as she slid past
as if she were the world's prettiest bowling ball. "Where's the
ringleader?"
      "*HELP!*
      Reflects kicked up into a forward roll, catching her feet and
skidding to a stop as she restored friction to her feet. She looked
up and across the street, where she saw the Scion in Lieutenant's
color's hanging from a flagpole, fifty feet off the ground and
clearly terrified.
      "I guess Trans got him first, Shiny," Hazard said, landing next
to the mirrored maiden.
      "She does that, sometimes." Reflects said, grinning. "What now,
Boomer?"
      "Not sure. I think the rest cleared off." Hazard pulled her
L-Phone out. She got online, scrolling through the information Ops
sent, scanning for trouble spots... "crap. Pawn shop fifteen blocks
over just got hit. The Scions are going for broke today."
      There was a siren. "Hazard!" one of the shopkeepers shouted.
"The cops are coming!"
      "Thanks, Mister Bertelli!" Hazard shouted back. "You make sure
you give them a statement!"
      "Will do! God bless you! You and your whole League!"
      Hazard grinned. "You too! But we--"
      "Yes yes! Go! Go!"
      Four police cars skidded to a stop nearby, and police swarmed
out. "Hazard!" one of them shouted. "On the ground with your hands
over your head!"
      "Why do they always address you," Reflects asked. "I'm standing
*right here.*"
      "I guess I stand out in a crowd better."
      "I'm *polished silver.*"
      "And yet, you manage to be so unnoticable. I'm jealous,
really."
      "I mean it!" the officer said, gun drawn. "You know I don't
want to hurt either of you--"
      "You hurt my *feelings,*" Reflects said, pouting. "You should
feel bad!"
      The police officer blinked. "I... uh--"
      There was a ripple, and the sound of imploding air, and the two
heroines vanished in a ripple of Cherenkov radiation.
      The officer and his partner blinked. They both half-smiled as
they stood up and holstered their weapons. "I guess they got away
again," the first officer said.
      "Yeah. Damn shame, huh. Start arresting the Scions?"
      "Sounds like a plan."
      The other side of the transgates opened on a rooftop
overlooking the pawn shop in question. Ordinal was sitting lotus,
floating in the air, purple and blue light playing over her skin.
"You two need to stop teasing the police," she said. "They work
awfully hard."
      "Sorry, Trans," Reflects said. "Did Ops give you the lowdown?"
      "Ops is offline. The call triggered an automated alert. I sense
fourteen distinct energy sources inside, all with the distortion
qualities of the Scions of the Phoot."
      "Fourteen? Where do they come *up* with all these gang
members," Hazard asked. "I swear. We arrest hundreds a week, and
they never seem to run out."
      "I don't think we're supposed to call attention to the logical
fallacies," Reflects said.
      "Do you two want more than support?" Ordinal asked. "I've got
Iceweaver and Parvenu engaging the Scullers on the Charles, and
there's rumors of the Ensemble massing in force in the Back Bay and
Capacitor isn't answering his L-Phone."
      "What else is new. Nah, get out of here. You need backup with
the Ensemble?"
      Ordinal snickered. "They're a criminal marching band. I think I
can probably take them."
      "Cool beans," Reflects said. "What's Incandescence doing?"
      "Fighting Lickmi in the Somerville War Commercial District."
      "Wait, that sounds like more fun than fighting Scions. Can't I
go join her instead?"
      "Screw you, Boomer," Reflects said. "We *have* an assignment."
      "Awwww. Sparky gets all the fun." Hazard grinned. "Before you
motor, can we get a dramatic entrance?"
      Ordinal smiled a bit. "Got one cued up and everything. You
ready?"
      Hazard grinned. "Like canned ham."
      "What does that even mean?" Reflects asked. But by then the
gates were encompassing them.

(Continued in Part Two!)