The League #3: Complications

[Whistling in the Dark]

December 24, 1998 - 18:54
The Christmas Eve Offensive


      The battle had been going on for over twenty hours. It had all
the earmarks of a turning point in the war. The Allied Forces had
launched a comprehensive strike against both the Awe Inspiring
Force's fanatical army and the legions of telepathically conditioned
troops on the Unimaginable League Amoral's side. The result had been
chaos and disaster for the two major combatants and the first real
sign that the Allies could actually beat both enemies.
      Psybernet's troops worked with their eerie precision, of
course. The enhancement rig they had built for the telepath let them
act as a single, unified machine in the field. But Lady Awe
Inspiring was by far the best military commander the world had ever
known, and her troops were fanatics and their equipment was
superior. At the same time, a number of ULA members were present,
and any one of them could take down a hundred of Lady Awe
Inspiring's best. The Awe Inspiring Force themselves hadn't taken
the field in this encounter, confident that the Lady's
awe-inspiringly brilliant tactics would win the day.
      Egoiste sat in a fast attack ship, soaring to the field.
Watching troop movements, he could see that the Lady would have been
right, had the Allies not struck. The remaining militaries of the
world had joined forces, taking direction from some of the greatest
heroes they had ever put their faith in. Dangerousman was elsewhere,
at least -- his devastating power, alongside his wife's might, was a
major reason the Awe Inspiring Force wasn't garrisoning their army.
But heroes from a dozen teams were among the Allies, and even
Incendiary and Goldenrage's power couldn't protect the ULA troops or
position.
      Egoiste's sister, Arsenal, sat next to him. "We were played,"
she seethed. "I thought Oracle had predicted the heroes would be
drawn to India."
      "She did, before she died," Egoiste said smoothly. "That mage
of theirs. The one you shot in the stomach? He killed her. She
couldn't predict his movements, apparently. And then he called in a
change of strategy."
      "Are any of the true threats on the field?" Arsenal asked,
smoothly working the controls of her own display, sending orders to
the repeater station, which in turn fed the military and brought the
devastating robotic drones she had contributed into the fray more
effectively.
      "Define true threats," Egoiste said. He had been walking a
tightrope in the months since the war had begun. Even with his
sister, he had to guard his words carefully.
      "Mighty Guy. !. Andy Awesome. Exempler or the Masked Bruce.
Anyone who could really go toe to toe with our immense power,
brother."
      Egoiste bit his lip. "No," he said. "According to the threat
index, all the heroes identified as being part of the Allied attack
are no higher than beta level, and most are gamma level or below."
      Arsenal slowly smiled. "Then it was for naught. Let them smash
into our troops. Get us into position. And then I will launch. They
are in my element, brother. Absent the truly invulnerable, they
cannot possibly stand against me. Not with my drones on the field
and our troops happy to sacrifice themselves to our greater glory."
      "Our troops aren't 'happy' to do anything," Egoiste said, with
deceptive lightness. "I am sure our dear Geneva has stripped them of
the capacity for emotion."
      "They understand reward and punishment. That is enough. Time to
engagement?"
      "Forty-eight seconds," Egoiste said, unbuckling his five point
belt. "I need to check the drive."
      "Do it." She smiled more. "Once more we take to the field
together, brother. Too long we have been generals, when we should
have been warriors."
      "Too long indeed," Egoiste murmured, stepping back in the
craft, before turning to face his sister. She was back to him, her
armored form in the specially designed chair. She did not see him
crouch. And did not see the force blade manifest in his hand.
      "These fools have forgotten us, brother," she said, tapping
keys. "They have forgotten what we were. What we *are.* Frakes is
dead and gone, and we have lost most of our ill-advised new blood,
but you and I? We endure. And standing together, we cannot be
stopped."
      "I know," Egoiste. "I'm sorry, Gabrielle."
      Her armored body spasmed as the blade slid through her seat and
through the joints of her armor. He struck absolutely perfectly --
his skill legendary, his talent extraordinary, and his knowledge of
his sister's weak points studied over the course of years.
      Arsenal did not cry out, though her eyes went wide. As the
spasm faded, she slumped back into her chair. "You stabbed me," she
said, wonder in her voice.
      "Yes," Egoiste said, taking his seat again. He did not look at
her. He did not speak with rancor. He simply began programming the
autopilot.
      "The traitor. The one Oracle prophesied about. It wasn't
Artifact. You just managed to deflect suspicion onto him." Arsenal
didn't sound angry. She was surprised, perhaps. But not angry.
      "Yes."
      "You have severed my linkages. I cannot send commands to my
cybernetic armor. What flesh muscle I still have can't even move my
weight," she said. "I'm helpless."
      "I know," he half-whispered.
      "Are you going to let the Allies defeat the armies? Are you
going to fly us away and let them take the day?"
      "No," he said.
      "No," she agreed. "It's too closely balanced right now. They
may well win, but they may also lose. If your goal is our defeat--"
      "Not just us. We dare not let the Lady win, either," Egoiste
said.
      "Then you must take steps to ensure the Allies' victory. And
there is not time to program the drones or send orders to the
psi-repeater."
      "No there isn't," Egoiste said quietly.
      "My armor is already working on bypassing the damage you
inflicted," Arsenal said. "And you could not stop me if I got
control back."
      "Correct."
      "What is your plan, then?"
      "This craft's armaments, engines and reactors, properly
misused, would make for a titanic explosion," Egoiste said. "If I
make a run into our own fortifications, it would destroy the
Psi-Repeater, decimate our reserves, destroy your drone base, send
feedback into Geneva so she could not focus on our troops, and
effectively end our army's ability to fight."
      "And that would let the Allies focus on the Lady's forces. And
there is no way they could possibly stop them." She nodded.
"Incendiary and Goldenrage?"
      "Will both be in the blast radius of our explosion. Even
Incendiary won't survive it, and if Goldenrage does, she'll still be
easy prey for the Allies at that point."
      "Yes," Arsenal murmured. She managed to turn her head to face
her brother. "We're going to die."
      "Yes," Egoiste said.
      "Together."
      "I would not..." Egoiste's breath caught, and his voice
faltered, for the first time. "I could not do this and survive. Not
if you were going to die, sister."
      "I know, Anthony." Arsenal's own voice sounded very small. Her
French was almost simple -- the dialect of their childhood, not
their cultured present. "Why are you doing this?"
      "Because it was not supposed to be this way." He looked at her,
then bent back to work. "We were going to assume control of this
world by virtue of our innate superiority. And together we were
going to usher in a new golden age. Instead, we and the Lady's
forces have been the harbingers of devestation. There is no benefit
to our actions -- not for us nor for the world. And there is no
purpose in commanding a dead planet.
      "I see." She did not argue, and neither did she agree. There
was no need for either. The damage had been done. "Antonie?'
      "Yes, Gabrielle?"
      "Are we going to go to Hell<tm>?"
      Egoiste paused at this. He had no more work to do anyway. The
ship was on automatic.
      "Antonie?"
      "I do not know if Hell<tm> exists," he said, softly.
      "But if it does?"
      "Then... if there is any justice in the world, we will go to
Hell<tm>," he said.
      "I'm scared," Gabrielle said. She sounded younger than she had
for years. It was the first -- the only time in decades she had
known fear, much less expressed it.
      Anthony took his sister's hand. "I'm with you," he said. "And
we will go together. And no one could ever stand against us when we
were together."
      Gabrielle smiled softly. Smiled through her fear. And Anthony
smiled too, and the ship slid forward towards the loving embrace the
ground offered ahead.


October 30, 2007
Gallops Island, Boston Harbor


      Egoiste sat up, almost explosively. A light layer of sweat
clung to his skin.
      There was a knock at his door. The second, he realized. It was
the first that awoke him.
      "Come," he said, his voice slightly raspy. He needed a drink --
whether of water or wine, it was hard to say.
      One of the blue armored Tsuchigumo warriors opened the door.
"Lord Egoiste," he said. "Master Atrax has requested your presence
in the Obelisk.
      "Did he say why?" The fencer slid out of bed fluidly. He was
nude, as was his way, though tonight his bed was empty. He stepped
over to his dresser.
      "No, Lord," the warrior said. "But it sounded important."
      "Master Atrax's summons are always important, warrior." He
slipped on one of his suits -- tight, with light armor here and
there. Once, he had eschewed such things, but that was years before.
"You would do well to remember that."
      "Yes, Lord Egoiste."
      "Have coffee and breakfast sent to the Obelisk. Something
light, that I can eat standing up. And make sure it comes from *my*
kitchen, warrior."
      "As you command, Lord Egoiste."
      "Good." The fencer stepped past the warrior, striding through
the halls to where the launch would be waiting to carry him to
Rainsford Island and the inner web of Anansi.


                               THE LEAGUE
                               Episode #3
                             Complications
                                   by
                             Eric A. Burns
                 Not dead but an incredible simulation


      Mandy Harken slid down the chute, coming to a soft landing in
the bunker headquarters of the League. She made her way through the
cramped halls, down to the conference room. The acoustic tiled
ceiling was only three feet over her head, the carpet worn and rough
under her feet.
      Ten years earlier, if you'd told 'Mastermind' her next group's
base would be even uglier? She would have laughed in your face.
Today, Mandy tried to ignore the surroundings as much as possible.
She walked into the conference room.
      "--supposed to give us support! Where the Hell *were* you?"
      "Hey, c'mon sis. I knew you could take those dumbass preppies."
      "I had six Scullers on me, plus two boat captains with machine
guns! Do you think I *like* needing Parvenu to heal me after--"
      "You're not supposed to let them *shoot* you," Capacitor said,
grinning. "Jesus, Sis. You haven't figured *that* out yet?"
      Iceweaver clenched her fist. "I swear, if you bail on us one
more time--"
      "How many 'one more times' does this make, Shiny?" Hazard
asked.
      "Sixteen counting the New Year's Eve thing, Boomer." Reflects
answered. "Or is it seventeen. Do you remember, Sparky?"
      Incandescence shrugged. She was in her human body -- the one in
the red bodysuit with the matching mask, her pixieish face framed by
brown hair. It didn't look much like... well, what Mandy had been
told was her old appearance. From what Mandy had intuited, that was
Incandescence's choice. "It's like counting flower petals. It's fun,
but no one really keeps track from one day to the next."
      "I do!" Parvenu said, leaning up against Hazard. God, seven
years of marriage and they still managed to be nauseatingly cute.
      "Okay, settle down," Mandy said, slipping into her chair.
"We've got business. Wait, where's Trans?"
      "Ordinal's on a call," Hazard said. "Her mom called -- The
Leonard Maltin Groupies are staging an attack, and she 'ported over
to stop them."
      "Wait, Trans is fighting Maltin Groupies alone?" Capacitor
asked, sitting up. "Shouldn't we be in there helping her?"
      "It's apparently only a small force," Hazard answered. "Nothing
major."
      "Oh sure. Your *sister* gets attacked by Scullers, and it's
character building," Iceweaver snapped. "*Trans* goes and fights a
bunch of film critic wannabes and you're ready to call out the
marines."
      "For the Love of Elvis, please shut up," Mandy said quietly.
      They shut up.
      "Right. I wanted to call everyone -- or almost everyone -- in
for a briefing. Life's about to get more complicated."
      Parvenu arched his eyebrow. "More complicated? There are
factions and gangs dominating Boston's neighborhoods. There's
gigantic absurd concrete walls everywhere making any kind of
coordinated response impossible. There's pressure to have us
arrested. There's an alien invasion penned in up at Somerville. And
there's the continuing need for you people with metabolisms to have
day jobs so you can buy things to metabolize. How much more
complicated can we possibly get?"
      "The Rogers Institute is about to begin training a cadre of
paranormal security officers under the project name Lochaber. Their
official -- and state sponsored -- mission will be to begin
regaining control of the Boston streets once and for all. Their
unofficial -- and primary -- mission will be arresting all eight of
you."
      There was a long pause.
      "Well, that complicates things," Parvenu said, cheerfully.
      "Oh shut up," Hazard snapped.

                             * * * * * *

      Awesome Amalgamated had made its initial reputation and fortune
with semi-rigid airships. The awesome brilliance of the company's
founder meant a creation of cargo and passenger airships that
allowed for superior travel experiences, superior transport and
teamster services, superior coordination of schedules and
itineraries and -- almost going without saying -- superior catering
options.
      In the decades since Awesome Amalgamated had been founded, the
airships became less and less important to their bottom line and
less and less significant an accomplishment compared with many
others. The revival and rehabilitation of NASA as a profit-making
research, development and exploration entity, the creation of
Awesome Networking Nodes -- the slowly growing Annet services -- the
steady development of alternate and renewable energy resources, and
the awesomely effective spam filters had all had as much or more
impact on the world than the airships, and in many ways represented
Awesome Amalgamated far more pervasively.
      But one of the many things that Andrew Goodwin -- the legendary
Andy Awesome -- did better than everyone else was hit all the
details. Airships were a part of his business, and even if they were
mostly in the background now, they still occupied some of his
awesome intellect. So each year saw improvements and upgrades to the
fleet, as well as new models being released and sold, new engines
and climate control systems, new annet access node technology --
well, to be blunt, new everything.
      Rogers Industries Inc. used Awesome Airways for all their
business travel. The Rogers Foundation did as well, though where RII
executives flew executive class and RII sales or brokers flew
business class, the Rogers Foundation personnel flew tourist, couch
or -- depending on which charity we were discussing -- steerage.
      Elizabeth Tirkoff was, on paper, a Rogers Foundation employee.
She was the headmaster of a paranormal academy. That meant she was
approved to fly coach. As she was also on the Board of the Rogers
Institute, she could automatically upgrade to tourist without an
argument. As she was also a board member of the Rogers Foundation,
she could actually fly business whenever she felt like it. However,
on paper anything higher than that would trigger an automatic audit.
      Elizabeth Tirkoff was not in business class. She was not in
executive class. She was not even in premier, first or premier first
classes. While Awesome Airships didn't have Double-Plus-Plus-Diamond
frequent flyer programs, it would be hard to tell the practical
differences between those rarified heights and Elizabeth Tirkoff's
travel experience. Quite simply, there was no comfort that Awesome
Airways could offer that RII would not provide for Doctor Tirkoff.
      At this moment, this included a private office, with a full
telecommunications station, complimentary coffee, butterscotch
milkshakes on demand, any and all food requests being met, and a
complete exemption from any 'electronic device restrictions.' And
massage therapy, jacuzzi services and one imagined sexual favors if
she really wanted it.
      As it works out, she just wanted privacy. Though the coffee was
*very* nice, she had to admit. "You'd hardly recognize him," she was
saying into the phone. "He was confidence incarnate, Alice."
      Alice giggled. "You're right," she said. "I wouldn't recognize
him. Memorex with confidence? Why not say he's learned to fly while
you're at it?"
      "It wouldn't surprise me if he did."
      "How'd he look otherwise?"
      "I told you. Confi--"
      "Liiiiil...."
      Elizabeth flushed slightly, a small smile on her face. "He
turned *gorgeous* when we weren't looking."
      "You're kidding me. I mean, he was always cute, in a gangly
sort of--"
      "I kid you not. He's filled out. He's got that Colin Farrell
thing going on now -- kind of a perpetual three day beard, slightly
weathered features in a good way--"
      "Wow. He's all grown up. So did he take the job?"
      "Nope."
      Alice sighed. "Well, we could have called that one."
      "We could?"
      "Lil, c'mon. Trans is part of the League. Incandescence is
there too. And that doesn't even count Kid-E. His sister, his ex,
his best friend. And he still believes in the hero two-step."
      "I know. I know." Elizabeth rubbed the bridge of her nose.
"Still, he'd have been perfect. Charismatic, strong, good leadership
skills, camera friendly."
      "Who's your fallback?"
      Elizabeth snorted. "Fallback?"
      "You have to have a fallback. Who's next on the board's list."
      "You are."
      There was a pause.
      "You know better," Alice said.
      "Yes I do."
      "Besides, I'm not sure I'd take the job if I could. Honestly, I
think the League's a good thi--"
      "Let's just not have that conversation again. The salient point
is you *can't.* So what we need is a public figure who people will
like and trust, who *we* can trust at the same time."
      "And who has the power we need, leadership abilities, but won't
buck the system more than we want," Alice said.
      "Pretty much."
      "Jesus, when did we become the Mega Intelligence Bureau?"
      Elizabeth frowned. "On my side? 1989."
      There was a pause. "Okay, bad choice of words," the speedster
said.
      "Y'*think?*"
      "Still. We're becoming--"
      "We're doing what we have to do, Alice. But we need someone at
the front."
      "Okay. Spoonstryke?"
      "Connected to Spoonman. If you think having someone directly
connected to a major Republican Presidential candidate come in to
run a quasi-police force in Boston, Liberalchusetts--"
      "Okay okay okay. Andy Awesome."
      "He wouldn't do it, and he's too big anyway. Lochaber would get
snowed under. Besides, I'm not sure he wouldn't support the League,
and I *know* we couldn't control him."
      "Right, right. Hrm. I don't suppose Phobos--"
      "Heh. Take every issue with Rip and multiply it by nine
hundred. Besides, he's off playing house in Missouri. And let me cut
you off before you mention Mental or Dreamwe--"
      "I wouldn't. So why not you? You can trust yourself, right?"
      "I'm retired."
      "So unretire."
      "I'm. Retired."
      "Gotcha. So. You need to find someone who's good on camera,
smart, powerful, has leadership abilities, will do what we expect
him to do, that we trust, who trusts us, and who won't have a
problem taking down the League."
      "Pretty much, yeah. So, you know, if the fairies decide to
leave us a perfect candidate under a cabbage... leaf...."
      "Lil?"
      Elizabeth didn't answer. She was frowning. It wasn't something
she would want to do, but if there wasn't anyone else--"
      "Lil? Hello? We get cut off?"
      "No no," she said. "Look, I'm not going to be coming into the
office when I land."
      "You're not? Should I hold dinner?"
      "I'll grab something on the way."
      "You're breaking my heart, Lil."
      "Par for the course, Alice. I'll be in later tonight. Got to
chase down a lead."
      "Who?"
      "I'll tell you later."
      "Ooo. Mysteeeeeerious. Well, good luck."
      "Yeah," she said, "To us all. Bye."
      She looked at the phone in her hand, after Alice had hung up.
"Forgive me," she whispered, and dialed another number. "Gabe?
Change of plans. Have a copter waiting for when we land...."

                             * * * * * *

      Ordinal pulled the dark grey cowboy hat off the soldier's
head.Like all the Leonard Maltin Groupies, the soldier wore a grey
canvas sportscoat and slacks, with black canvas shirt and grey
canvas tie. His facial features were obscured by a matching grey
false beard, and large horn-rimmed glasses with nightvision lenses
covered his face. "All right," the heroine said, coolly, "what did
you people want with Ingress Tech?"
      "Hollywood executives believe that money is both the be-all and
end-all to the movie making process," the Maltinite spat. "Leonard
thinks people in Hollywood are *afraid* of sentient because they
think audiences will reject it."
      Doctor Laura Davis, standing near the heroine, frowned. "What
does that have to do with anything?" she asked.
      "Par for the course," Ordinal said. "The Maltinites pretty much
exclusively communicate via Leonard Maltin quotes."
      "The... film critic."
      "Yup."
      "Are we supposed to take them seriously?"
      "They're the most dangerous mercenaries working in Boston,"
Ordinal said. "It's a question of interpretation."
      "Everyone is looking for the sure thing," the Maltinite
snapped. "They are looking to hedge their bet. They think the way to
do that is to go with a proven quantity, a remake of something you
have already seen. That is their mindset. "
      Ordinal made a face. "There you have it."
      "Have what?"
      "Part of Ingress's research is Altiversal travel. The rumors
that came out of Canada back in the 90's were cautionary, but they
also suggested that there might be an Altiverse out there where
things never fell apart. No Lickmi invasion. No Genocidal War
between the Awe Inspiring Force and the Unimaginable League Amoral.
It's a seductive picture, looking back to the days of the Awesome
Force and CalForce and the Extreme Team."
      "And the Adjusted League?" Doctor Davis asked.
      "Q.E.D."
      "Is that really what you people were doing?" Doctor Davis asked
the canvas suit wearing mercenary.
      "Audiences deserve better," he answered, defiantly.
      "So -- what. They were going to build a gateway out of our
Boston and into some Altiversal duplicate? And what, charge money?"
      Ordinal shook her head. "That's not the Leonard Maltin
Grouples' style," she said. "They're mercenaries. They take
commissions they feel Leonard Maltin would approve of, act within
their code of conduct, but otherwise take money to do whatever."
      "How do they justify that?"
      "Leonard Maltin advocates for better cinema while working for
Entertainment Tonight." Ordinal shook her head, walking away from
the bound mercenary. "You've got the police coming?"
      "And private security holding them until then," Doctor Davis
said, nodding. They walked along. "You did good work here, Trans,"
she said softly.
      "I'm moderately good at what I do," Ordinal said, clearly
pleased at the praise. "But I'm worried about you staying in Boston,
especially with the technology that Ingress is working on."
      "Most nights I'm home in West Virginia," Doctor Davis said.
"Your stepfather usually has dinner waiting for me. It's the
advantage of working in pandimensional--"
      "THE CAKE IS A LIE!" one of the Ingress Technology interns
shouted behind the pair.
      "What they--" Ordinal asked, frowning.
      "Ignore him. The interns have been shouting about cake and
their love for metal crates for like six months."
      "Oh. Okay. Anyway -- Boston's dangerous, Mom."
      Doctor Davis smiled a bit more, touching her stepdaughter's
face. "Then it's handy I have a brave daughter who can bend time and
space, isn't it?"
      Ordinal smiled. "I'm not an adherent to luck," she said. "That
implies a certain intentionality that's really just a pattern of
results that come from predictable statistical analysis--"
      "Leonard Maltin is a lifelong Disney nut!" one of the
Maltinites screamed, behind them.
      "--okay, tired of them," Ordinal said. "I need to get back, in
particular before the police get here. How are Dan and Chrissy?"
      "They're good. One of them's usually on site here, the other--"
      "Is out with Mem. Of course. How's he doing?"
      Doctor Davis smiled indulgently. "The same. Though I guess
Doctor Tirkoff intercepted him not too long ago."
      Ordinal frowned. "That could be trouble."
      "I'm well aware. Mm. I see police on the outer monitor. Better
get going."
      "Right. I love you, mother."
      "I love you too, Trans. Be careful."
      "I take all appropriate precautions." She stepped back, fingers
twirling as she gathered and focused."
      "And wear a sweater!" Doctor Davis shouted as her stepdaughter
imploded into Cherenkov radiation. "It gets cold in Boston, you
know!"

                             * * * * * *

      "I don't understand this," Hazard was saying. "At what point
did Rogers decide they wanted to get back into the superhero
business?"
      "They haven't. They want to get into the *law enforcement*
business. And the pressure's coming from above. From the Mayor's
office. From the Governor's office. From--"
      "Right. Federal, State and Local. The same people who're okay
with giant concrete walls and crime ridden ghetto neighborhoods."
Parvenu shook his head. "So how come you can't block all this?
You're the head of the Rogers Institute."
      "I'm the head, but I'm not the dictator. Until Kirby Rogers
gets old enough to inherit his legacy in toto, we're all marking
time. Maybe -- *maybe* Elizabeth could do something with her proxy
votes, but--"
      "But she's turning out to be our biggest problem," Reflects
said. "And I don't get that either."
      "She has issues," Mandy answered. "Honestly, I underestimated
them. When the Lochaber solution presented itself, she grabbed it
with both hands."
      "Which means?" Capacitor asked.
      "Which means *my* plan of building an overly bureaucratic,
hidebound institution that made a lot of public noise but never
actually made it to the streets died before I could even outline it.
Lochaber's going to exist, it's going to be well armed and well
trained, and it's going to be effective."
      "And its unspoken mandate is arresting us," Hazard said.
      "Yuppers."
      "Greeeeat."
      "So what's our response," Parvenu asked. "I don't think any of
us want to engage actual law enforcement any more than we have to.
Right now, we're careful not to give the real cops the chance to
really arrest us, and the cops in turn don't try all that hard."
      "Why should they? The Lickmi invasion hurt them. They're glad
to have the support," Reflects said.
      "And they should be," Capacitor threw in. "We're actually
making some headway. If we can get a solid beachhead on the streets
of Boston Proper, we can start looking at the Harbor Islands."
      "We're a *long* way off from being able to take on Anansi,"
Mandy said. "And as long as they're providing air cover penning the
Lickmi into Somerville, if we even tried we'd have the U.S. Army
coming down on us. Right now, when we need to engage the Lickmi they
don't just turn a blind eye, they actively support us."
      "Of course they do," Hazard said. "The Somerville War
Commercial District is under martial law, and Major General Kim
isn't  about to turn down anyone's help."
      "Let's refocus on the issue at hand," Iceweaver said. "What's
Lochaber's implementation plan?"
      "They've already begun a recruitment campaign -- minor
paranormals, well trained soldiers, folks identified by different
government agencies, some of the lower powered graduates of the
Academy. People like that."
      "They're going to need a focus," Parvenu said. "An organization
like that, no matter how pretty their uniforms -- they'll look just
like the gangs who've taken over the streets if they don't have a
good public relations focus."
      "They need a leader," Incandescence said. "Right?"
      "Right. That's Tirkoff's current assignment."
      "Who's she tapped?" Hazard asked.
      Mandy half-smiled. "Memorex."
      There was a moment of silence, before several of the League
burst into laughter. "Never in a *million* years," Capacitor said.
"I know he turned us down, but he'd never, *ever--*"
      "Rip would never do it," Incandescence said softly. "He
wouldn't."
      "I know," Mandy said. "I'm the one who pushed to have him at
the top of the list. On paper, I did it because he's the perfect
candidate for them. Unofficially, I did it because it would slow the
process down and let us start to deal with it. The second choice is
Alice, and even if Elizabeth could talk her into it, she's
incapable. Which the Board doesn't know."
      "But Elizabeth does. And she knew you knew. How'd you--"
      "I fed the name to Professor Burns, and he nominated her.
Nouveaux Skunk agreed wholeheartedly, and Elizabeth couldn't say no
without explaining why. And Elizabeth wouldn't ever betray Alice's
confidence." Mandy half-smiled. "The advantage of a big brain is
knowing how to line up the bank shots."
      "So we have some time," Iceweaver said. "How do we use it?"
      Parvenu snorted. "We have to start digging."
      "Roger--"
      "No, Mandy. I know what you keep saying. I know that with the
city in chaos it's never been a good time to start figuring out
*who* and *why* so many levels of government seem to want Boston in
a state of Hell and the League in the
We're-Serious-This-Is-A-Hard-To-Get-Out-Of-Place. But if we have a
shot at getting some information, and a little -- a *little* -- bit
of time before Lochaber starts putting serious heat on us, we need
to take it. Because after Lochaber's a go, we're going to have a
hard time even doing our day to day jobs. And that's assuing Tirkoff
won't use what she knows about our secret identities against us in
the first place."
      "She won't," Mandy said.
      "Yeah, well -- I'd think she wouldn't oppose us either, but--"
      "You don't understand," Mandy said. "Part of Bruce Rogers's
will stipulated that no beneficiary of his estate would compromise
the secrets of the members or associates of the Adjusted League
Unimpeachable. The Rogers Institute and Elizabeth Tirkoff can try to
arrest you, but they can't use your secret identities against you.
That's why I had you all shift codenames -- officially, they can't
even connect Dangerousgirl to Hazard, Nobody to Parvenu--"
      "Hey gang," Ordinal said, stepping into the room. "Mom says hi.
What's up? And is that pizza community prop...er...ty...." She
frowned slightly.
      "Sure is, Ordinal," Capaciter said, his voice light even as he
arched an eyebrow. Ordinal's finger's twitched, sparkles appearing
on her mouth even as her lips moved.
      "We're just discussing the latest new problem," Hazard said,
sitting up, encouraging her husband to do the same. She seemed
relaxed, even as microgates appeared near her ears. Next to her,
Incandescence pushed her chair back, appearing to stretch, while
Reflex yawned, her skin blurring into silver as it was wont to do
when she lost concentration.
      "Oh. Well, I'm always happy to help untangle new problems,"
Ordinal said, stepping to the far side of the room. "Should I do
that right now?"
      "Yes," Mandy said. "Do it. *Now.*"
      Ordinal blurred into motion, and what looked like empty space
in the corner of the room suddenly *imploded* into a burst of blue
light. Ordinal's gate *burst* open, causing a figure that was
invisible to blur into view as he landed on the table, even as
Incandescence burst into her fire-form, Parvenu's fingers worked up
a deep purple and black spell, Hazard's hands burned with nuclear
fire, Reflects shimmered ready to do an open palm strike,
Iceweaver's hands fogged with super-cold energy and Capacitor's
fingers crackled with arcing electricity. "Don't move, spyboy!"
Capacitor shouted. "You're *so* surrou--"
      The figure -- who had been invisible and undetectable until
Ordinal entered the room and sensed his mass in the corner --
finished misting into view. He was smaller than anyone else there,
and looked somewhere between scared and delighted. And, of course,
nine. "Um, hi guys," he said.
      "Well, shit," Hazard said.
      "Language," Mandy said. She sighed. "Hello, Kirby."



WILL HAZARD GET INTO TROUBLE FOR SWEARING IN FRONT OF KIRBY ROGERS?

WILL KIRBY ROGERS OUT THE LEAGUE'S HEADQUARTERS TO HIS MOTHER,
ELIZABETH TIRKOFF?

WILL ELIZABETH TIRKOFF FIND A GOOD LEADER FOR LOCHABER?

WILL THE LEAGUE FIND OUT WHY THE GOVERNMENT HAS SUCH A MAD-ON OVER
BOSTON AND BOSTON HEROES?

WHO IS MAJOR GENERAL KIM?

WHO ARE THE LICKMI?

LEONARD MALTIN GROUPIES? REALLY?

IS THE CAKE, IN FACT, A LIE?


And now... the end is near... and so we face... reading Superguy....