SG: [h1996] (b/d) Adjusted League Unimpeachable #110

Eric Burns eaburns at annotations.com
Mon Oct 3 10:49:39 PDT 2016


[[This is the second part. Read after the first part, or explain yourself
to Olaf.]]



    Boston, Massachusetts was -- in addition to being one of the oldest
cities in America and one of the most confusingly laid out cities from the
point of view of anyone driving -- one of the best protected cities in the
world. It had the Adjusted League Unimpeachable's headquarters right along
Commonwealth Avenue, which meant one of the best known superteams on the
planet called Boston home. What was more, it had a school for superheroes
attached to it -- the Adjusted League Unimpeachable Academy -- with a
former member of CalForce as its Commandant. Minor crimes in Boston had
essentially become teachable moments, as a result.

    Needless to say... some criminals actually took the hint, and decided
to go maybe someplace else. Like, in this case, Fromageberg, Vermont.

    Fromageberg was best known for being a town that both Ethan Allen and
Brigadier General John Stark saw from a distance during the Revolution.
They had made much of this by building such local landmarks as the 'We
Think They Saw This Tavern' and the 'You Don't Know They May Have Stayed
Here In This Inn.' As with most of Vermont, the major local industry was
devoted to apples, cheese, maple sugar, and open carry laws.

    But even ready access to firearms wasn't always enough, as the good
people of the First National Boy What If They Deposited Some Money Into
This Bank found out by being robbed.

    "Hah! Look at all this money," the first robber said, watching the
terrified bank tellers put money into large sacks with dollar signs printed
on them -- the robbers had brought them with them -- and not noticing as
small arms fire bounced off the force field surrounding her.

    "It's pretty cool," the second robber said. She also had a force field,
as did the getaway driver and indeed the getaway vehicle. "Hey -- no dye
bombs!" A .357 round bounced off her forehead.

    "All right, all right!" the Bank Assistant Vice President said. "We're
cooperating. Would you like some coffee, a complimentary cheese plate and
these lovely local maple candies?"

    "Please God no," Robber #1 said. "I'm so sick of cheese and maple."

    "But we're getting rich," Robber #2 said. "Soon we'll be rich enough to
go somewhere that isn't Vermont!"

    "Yes! Hah! Maybe even today! Did you get all that money in the sacks?"

    "Yes, ma'am," the terrified bank teller said. "Would you like a
calendar featuring pictures of many local birds atop wheels of cheese and
pots of maple syrup while Ethan Allen and Brigadier General John Stark look
on from a distance?"

    "...fine, just hurry it up."

    "Of course!" She dumped six of the calendars in the bags -- hey, if
someone wanted a calendar that was a golden opportunity to get rid of them
-- and handed them over, two each to the criminals."

    "Thanks!" Robber #2 shouted. "Hah hah hah hah! I love this!"

    "Let's get out of here!" Robber #1 shouted.

    The two ran out to the getaway station wagon, which was also bouncing
bullets. The car's force field interacted with their own, letting them get
inside without lowering their defenses.

    "About time!" the Getaway Driver said. Outside, bullets bounced off the
force field rather like hail bouncing off a force field. "I don't like
taking too long!"

    "Oh, like anyone out here can stop us," Robber #2 said. "These League
of Unconcerned Scientist branded force fields mean a well armed populace is
helpless against our thievery!"

    "Guaranteed to stop anything up to a fifty caliber bullet or double our
medical bills back," Robber #1 said, grinning as well. "Best investment we
ever made, at least this far away from super hero types!"

    They pulled out, driving forward, confident their field would shove
aside any blockades put in front of them. "Yeah, maybe two or three more of
these local banks, and we can upgrade and take on Edison, New Jersey!"
Robber #1 said, counting money.

    "Mmm... mini golf and discredited iconography," the Getaway Driver
said. "I can't WAAAAAUGH!!!!"

    The Driver had meant to say 'wait,' of course. However, that didn't
quite happen because of the shouting -- which came from the driver's sudden
panic as a blue and white attired figure hurtled towards them from down the
block with a single leap, her fist sparking white as she curled it back,
and then bursting into solid light as she smashed through the force field
entirely and blew out the engine, the hood popping off entirely to the
sound of her shouted *"SPANDEX BABE!"*

    "What the **Hell(tm)** Robber #1 shouted. "What's **she** doing here?!"

    Spandex Babe flipped smoothly over the obliterated front end of the
station wagon to the driver's side, tearing the door off and tossing it
away before hauling the driver and her seat out with one pull. "From a look
at this car? Antiquing," she snarled. The well muscled brunette warrior
dropped the driver, before yanking the back door off to pull the robbers
out as well.

    "How did you even get here?!"

    "Simple. I flew her here! Because I can do things like that!"

    Criminals and thieves alike looked up in the sky (the phrasing isn't
exact, so we're in no legal trouble) and gasped. Floating in the air was a
man in seamless red and gold armor, most notably including golden bracers.
His hair was beyond perfect and into 'religious experience' territory. The
golden domino mask he wore gleamed in the light.

    Spandex Babe pursed her lips as she secured the money. Let them gawk.
She would have, too.

    "Who are you?" Robber #1 asked, breathlessly.

    "You know me as the Masked Bruce," the godlike man said. "And normally
the Dash would be the one to run up here, but she's in Sri Lanka and may be
a good ten or fifteen minutes, so I figured it was a nice chance to pick up
some cheese, apples and maple syrup for the Adjusted League Unimpeachable
to enjoy!"

    The crowd cheered -- even the criminals seemed enthralled, while
Spandex Babe tore framework off the station wagon and bent it into
makeshift handcuffs, forcing the criminals' hands behind their backs. "You
should be able to take it from here," she said to the town constable--

    Who wasn't paying any attention to Spandex Babe. She was too busy
clapping and staring at the Masked Bruce.

    "I can really see why General John Stark and Ethan Allen both noticed
this town from a distance," the Masked Bruce was saying. "What a great
place! Every time I have to fly to New York or Toronto, I'm gonna make time
to fly over Fromageberg!"

    There was another cheer. Spandex Babe dropped the secured money bags in
front of the same police officer, then stepped back out of the way.

    "Oh! It looks like we're all set here! Take that, criminals, and change
your thieving ways!"

    "We will!" the three crooks shouted in unison, happily.

    "Come, Patsy!" With that, the Masked Bruce gestured to Spandex Babe,
lifting her off the ground with a golden aura and sweeping up into the air
with her, the crowd going wild below.

    "Patsy?" Spandex Babe muttered. "I'd complain but I'm just surprised
you actually worked a Monty Pythonism into things."

    "Well, of course I did! Nice collar down there!"

    Spandex Babe shrugged. "Yeah. Glad to help."

    "You should be. You do good work, Dea. Don't ever doubt that."

    "Good work. Yeah." She looked around. "This feels different than the
old Xolchipaliax Radiation field."

    "It is different. So that makes sense. Honestly -- not missing the
crowbar at all."

    "I'd think you'd want to get your tihorn back from the Crimson Crowbar."

    "Eh. Let him keep it for a while. I'll take him down soon enough."

    "You mean we will?"

    "Sure, why not." He smiled. "You really do do good work, Dea. Why so
frowny?"

    Spandex Babe opened her mouth, then closed it. "It doesn't matter,
Masked Bruce. I'll do what I'm supposed to do."

    "Well, okay then. Hang on -- I'll move us up to ludicrous speed!"

    Back at the A.L.U.C.H.Q.M.O.U.S.E., Mandy Harken and Unorthodox Girl
were looking at the main monitor, listening to the audio and watching the
video. All of Spandex Babe's missions had to be xolchacorded via
xolchaprobe under the terms of her disciplinary action, so they were paying
a lot closer attention than they did on other missions.

    "Jesus, Spandy sounds like Hell," Mandy said, watching the feed.

    "Uh... yeah," Unorthodox Lass answered, looking down for a moment.

    "I wonder if we need to get her evaluated again -- see if she's fit for
duty."

    "Wha-- no way, Mandy. We've got like six weeks left! Don't pull her
from duty now -- if we take that away from her **too--**"

    "I'm just saying -- if she's a liability we need to know. But I'm not
exactly Executive Board, so don't put too much stock in what I'm saying."

    "Yeah. Yeah, right." Unorthodox Girl looked back up. "So we're gonna
ignore the elephant flying through the air, right?"

    "Is that a Dumbo joke?"

    "Insert magic feather joke here. Whoever that was gladhanding the
Vermont crowd, it **wasn't** Mike Green."

    "Yes it was, Trudy. He's just getting used to the Oanthet. They said it
amplified his personality -- he's probably still getting used to what sides
of the personality it's amplifying."

    "Mandy, Spands was right. He only made one token Python ref, and that
would be fine except he had absolutely no sarcastic asides or jokes. Not to
mention he absolutely locked the crowd on him while doing none of the work."

    "He wasn't there to do the work. He was there because Dianna can't take
solo missions, so she needs a chaperone even for purse snatching."

    "So why'd he make it all about him?"

    "Maybe... he wanted to keep the crowd calm? Spandex Babe's not at her
most popular... it's not like he did anything to hamper the mission.
Engagement was under a minute."

    "Mandy -- I dunno if my opinion counts for much around here, but I'm
telling you -- whatever the Hell that was, it wasn't Mike."

    "Your opinion counts for quite a bit, Unorthodox Girl." The voice was
behind them, and relatively cool -- which still put chills down Mandy and
Trudy's spines.

    "Lass."

    "Whatever." Bruce was still dressed in his business suit as he walked
up to the monitor on the other side of where Unorthodox Girl was sitting,
but his demeanor was entirely different now. This was Trashman, and they
both knew it. "I'll want to review the footage. Let's have Mike and Dianna
come in for debrief. I have a few questions about the crime."

    "You do?" Mandy asked. "It seemed open and shut."

    "They had force fields, Mandy."

    Mandy blinked. "Oh yeah. My weirdness meter's been thrown off."

    "Can't imagine why," Unorthodox Girl said, tapping the Xolchacomm.
"Base to Masked Bruce and Spandex Babe. C'mon in for debrief, guys -- the
bossman has questions about the crime."

    "...I thought I did okay," Spandex Babe said quietly. "Sorry."

    "You did perfectly well," Bruce said, taking the mike. "I have no
complaints about your performance, Spandex Babe. This is League business."

    "We'll be there. Want us to bring drivethru?" The Masked Bruce grinned.

    "No," Trashman said. "Base clear." He clicked the mike off. "That, at
least, was Mike."

    "Kinda," Unorthodox Lass said. "I have a bad feeling about this,
Trashy."

    "So do I. I'll be back -- I have to change."

    "How's Kent doing?"

    "About as well as any heartbroken young man, I suppose. Excuse me."

    Mandy shook her head. "CalForce breaking up and Key and Kent with it. I
never liked her."

    "I did. They seemed good together. Understand, I'm going to bury her in
rotted ground fish entrails."

    "You mean old chum?"

    "I mean old chum."

    "Get pictures."


* * * * * *


    "Amazing, isn't it?" Scholarman said. He was sitting in Healer's
office, a walking stick across his lap. He was still very far from
recovered from nearly dying two years before during the Industrial
Revolution -- only Andy Awesome's brilliance, Anne Enger's Cats, and Bink's
Cuteness had made it possible for him to recover at all. "CalForce breaking
up, one of the biggest, most important teams packing it in, and all anyone
around here can do is talk Mighty Guy and MeltDown."

    "It's natural," Healer said, checking over the contract one last time.
"CalForce breaking up's too... immediate for most everyone. CalForce is
part of what we rely on -- me more than most. I get it... it was **time,**
but it's hard for people. But Mighty Guy and MeltDown? Are celebrities for
the people who don't know them, and friends for the people who do. Of
course the whole primary team's going to be a bit obsessed with it. They
love Mighty Guy. He was the reason this team was founded, and he's so
positive, if destructive. They're going to naturally want to take his side,
even if there aren't sides to take."

    "True enough. What about you?"

    "Me? I think he was lucky to get a hot piece of CalForce ass as long as
he could. Team Key all the way."

    "...I wouldn't expect you to use that phrase to describe your friend,"
Scholarman said, slowly.

    "Key insisted. She wanted to put together a band -- HotFlash and
MeltDown, Chalandra, Akane and me, all under the name Hot Pieces of
CalForce Ass. This was, like, year one."

    Scholarman opened his mouth, and then closed it. "You're... musical?"

    "Don't sound so shocked. I was a music major my first two years of
college, before switching to psychology. I bust a **mean** flute, mister."

    "Why am I envisioning Industrial covers of Jethro Tull?"

    "You've been paying attention. So... when did you get the Ph.D.?"

    "I've spent the last couple years in a useless sinecure Vice Presidency
at Awesome Amalgamated, generally feeling ill. After I mastered the art of
garbage can basketball, I had to do **something** with my time."

    "Is that job going to conflict with teaching here?"

    "There's a Xolchaporter in the building. So long as I show up at least
every other week, I think they'll be happy. And if not... well, they can
fire me. Look... maybe it's a bad idea. I mean, by definition I break the
destinies of those I interact with. But I want to do something at least *
*somewhat** useful with my time. And I enjoyed teaching Comp to the
original class, so..."

    "They mostly hated you."

    "So, maybe it *is* a bad idea."

    "No, they hated you for the right reasons, academically speaking. All
right -- sign here. You can take over Lit, Comp and Creative Writing
immediately, and next term we'll set up proper classes for you -- you're
comfortable working from secondary school through college level?"

    "I'm not even comfortable breathing, Doctor Tirkoff. This won't be a
thing in comparison." Scholarman smiled. "I'm looking forward to it."


* * * * * *


    Spandex Babe took a seat at the Multitasking Supercomputer Touchscreen
Conference Table. Normally, she grabbed a cup of coffee first. Any time,
day or night. If she was at a meeting, she grabbed coffee.

    Today she just sat, looking down at the empty note window that spawned
in front of her without really focusing.

    Trashman frowned, but let it slide. He watched the Masked Bruce fairly
conquer a chair opposite her, with Unorthodox Girl between the two of them.
Which no doubt made the whole thing look like a tribunal to Spandex Babe
even more. Not good.

    "First off," he said. "Excellent work, Spandex Babe. The perfect
application of force for intimidation, suppression but still preventing
injury."

    "Thank you," she said, not looking up. She sounded distant.

    "Secondly, I wanted to talk about the criminals. They had forcefield
technology, which isn't what I'd expect in Vermont."

    "Maybe the Burlington Coat Factory sells forcefields now," Unorthodox
Lass said.

    "Quite. Masked Bruce -- what scans did you get of the technological
base of the forcefields? Do they match familiar M.O.s?"

    "No clue -- didn't scan them." He sipped coffee.

    "You... didn't scan them? Why not?"

    "Not my mission. I was just high guard. And I don't exactly carry a
xolchacorder around with me any more, you know." He grinned. "We all have
to get used to change, right?"

    Trashman narrowed his eyes slightly. "I suppose we do. Spandex Babe, do
you have any insight into--"

    "They were fairly standard low end League of Unconcerned Scientist
tech. Old even by the standards they were using when Dani was cloned. It
may have been reverse engineered by someone but the emitters looked
distinctive and the units were smaller. First thought is they've improved
the design and managed to mass produce it -- at least enough to sell it to
small town hoods. Gain can't really be improved beyond 'decent bullet proof
vest' level, but below that threshold they're effectively bulletproof, and
it protects their head and eyes as well as their chest." She didn't look up
as she spoke, and her voice was almost a monotone.

    "...good. Excellent. Thank you, Spandex Babe. That's exactly what I
needed to know."

    Spandex Babe shrugged. "I spent a couple years obsessed with the League
of Unconcerned Scientists. You pick a few things up." She looked up,
finally. "I left the car and the emitters wrecked. Pretty much garbage. So
if you want to go trashcan detective them--"

    "Why bother?" Mike asked. "If we know it's the League of Unconcerned
Scientists, why bother investigating it further? Especially if they're
selling low end trash forcefields -- that sounds like they're not exactly
building killer death rays right now."

    "Or maybe they're gathering funds for something big," Unorthodox Girl
said. "Leaving it to chance sounds like a **bad** idea."

    "Hey -- Doc Unorthodox is still in the new Really Seriously We Mean It
Hard to Get Out of Place, last I checked. Without him they're just a pack
of idiots and a muppet."

    "As of this morning he is," Trashman said. "But underestimating the
threat of the League--"

    "Come on, Trashman. Are you telling me you wouldn't walk into their
H.Q. naked except for the can lid and take them all out in like four
minutes? Much less what I could do to them?" The Masked Bruce sounded
halfway between bored and amused.

    "I don't take the people behind the death of Spandex Babe's family
lightly, Masked Bruce," Trashman said, voice noticeably colder.

    "And gosh -- that bodes so well for the real threats out there. But
then, you also don't take petty criminals in Dark City lightly. You
micromanage, Bruce. It's not healthy."

    "Are we done?"

    Trashman blinked, looking at Spandex Babe. She was looking down again.

    "For now. I'm going to follow up on your lead, Spandex Babe. Well done."

    She shrugged, and got up. "You know where I'll be." She walked out of
the room.

    Trashman turned back to the Masked Bruce. "I'm getting honestly
concerned with your attitude."

    The Masked Bruce shrugged. "There's very little I can do about that,
Bruce."

    "In uniform we use codenames, Masked Bruce."

    "Wow. Okay. Sure thing, Trashman. I'll make sure to use the decoder
ring to encrypt my secret messages to you too. Seriously. The League of
Unconcerned Scientists? Why aren't we focusing on the Unimaginable League
Amoral? You remember them? They beat me to near-death and then got away
with my gear. Or maybe track down the Awe Inspiring Force, since it's our
fault they jumped back up to relevant after Ramrod shot Andy Awe-Inspiring?
But by all means if you want to focus on Doctor Pepper and Doctor
Chauvinist I will happily put all my attention towards them." He stood up.

    "We're not done here," Trashman said, coolly.

    "Seriously?"

    "Yes, seriously. Masked Bruce, I--"

    The Masked Bruce lifted a hand up, the bracer on the forearm below it
glowing. A ghostly image of Trashman appeared, speaking. "I know you feel
like you have all the answers, but you don't really understand the
questions I'm asking, Masked Bruce," it said, leaning forward with intense
eyes. "Your attitude has steadily declined since we broke orbit at Planet
Seattle. I understand you're undergoing significant changes right now, and
none of us really understand what your new abilities entail, but that is no
excuse for disregarding either the feelings of your teammates or the orders
of your superior. You are still a part of this team, Mike, and I expect you
to act accordingly. Is that perfectly **clear?**"

    The Masked Bruce closed his hand, and the image vanished. He kept his
eyes on Trashman's. "You're getting predictable, Bruce," he said.
"Seriously. Micromanaging's going to kill you. I get it. We'll stop the
League of Unconcerned Scientists. But try to have a little perspective,
okay?"

    Trashman watched the Masked Bruce walk out of the room.

    "I told Mandy that wasn't the Masked Bruce," Unorthodox Lass said. "But
I had no idea."

    "Me either. This is going south very, very fast. But there isn't much
we can do about it right this moment." He turned to look at Unorthodox
Girl. "What happened between you and Dianna, Trudy?" he asked, softly,
without the coldness of before.

    Unorthodox Lass blinked. "Uh... what happened to 'in uniform we use
codenames?'"

    Trashman pulled off his hat and mask, sitting down next to Trudy.
"Seriously. No anger, Trudy. Just... what happened?"

    Trudy undid her own mask. She looked miserable. "Plenty of anger, Bruce
-- all mine at me. I fucked up. I fucked up bad."

    "Can you tell me about it?"

    "I gotta tell someone. It was... at the party, on Planet Seattle. I
went on a bender of benders, with every intention of making it a bender
straight into an orgy. And, well, mission accomplished. Tawdry as Hell(tm)."

    Trashman shrugged. "You're an adult."

    "Maybe not the word I'd use. She was worried about me, Bruce. She was
there -- I don't even know why, since I thought she was locked up there
too--"

    "Not her fault. Go on?"

    "She was there, and she got worried. She saw I was drinking and
partying and making it clear I was in a mood for something
Rad-and-Glum-party level in its decadence. And she worried and she walked
over to talk to me and I bit her to the **bone*,* Bruce. I got annoyed
and... I actually used my mother's murder as part of it. It was *that*
bad." She snorted. "It worked, too. She went away. Unorthodoxy wins again,
and I could get my freak on." She was tearing up. "And she hasn't talked to
anyone since. I think... I think I was the straw that broke her back,
Bruce. After everything she's done for me, I think I broke her."

    Bruce sighed, putting his hand on Trudy's. "You were drunk and young,
Trudy. We've all said dumb things that ended up more hurtful than we
intended."

    "I thought... I thought you'd get all scary voice on me."

    "Not for this, Trudy. This is just... being human. Have you apologized?"

    "I don't know **how*.*"

    "Want me to come with you to try?"

    "...I... I dunno. I mean, I should, but...."

    "It's okay. Maybe we should talk to Elizabeth about it."

    Trudy nodded. "You know something? She bought me my first bra.
Seriously. Dad wasn't exactly geared for that. Dianna taught me bra
shopping and explained crap I never knew. She's the closest thing I've had
to a mom since I was eight, and I said those horrible things. And... she
saved all our lives and...."

    "Shh. I know."

    "Bruce?"

    "Yes?"

    "I should have been the one the book got thrown at. Not Dianna. You
know that, right? You know I was the one out for blood. She reined me in.
It should have been me."

    "I'm not going down that path with you, Trudy. Intent and deed aren't
the same thing. Honestly...." He looked down. "Honestly, I'm trying to
figure out when punishment became torture, and I'm trying to figure out how
to pull her out of it. This isn't justice."

    "Yeah, well. Justice isn't in our mission statement. So what the fuck
with Mike?"

    "Confidentially? I have no idea, Trudy."

    Trudy looked at Bruce. "Okay. Now I'm scared."

    "So am I." He paused. "You had sex with multiple extraterrestrial
partners. You were safe?"

    "Ultra safe. And I medscanned the next morning and every day since. No
diseases or parasites, including any stowaways in utero." She looked off
the side. "It was a lot of fun, Bruce. Like nothing I'd ever experienced.
It just wasn't worth Dianna."

    Bruce nodded. "I understand. Come on. Let's track down Elizabeth."



[[As with Part One, this is the end of Part Two. From here there is Part
Three. Seriously, this isn't rocket science.]]
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