“I thought it was 15 minutes?”
“Inflation, Kid, inflation,” said Blue Star. “Now if it is Dr. Wraith, then most of his minions are worthless, but one will be his most recent project, often some sort of Frankenstein-like thing, part tech, part occult, never pretty. He’s also a terrorism sort of guy, he likes to scare the hell out of people, kill them, and do weird things with the bodies. A real sicko, plus he can levitate, has a death ray of sorts, and always has a Plan B, C, D, E, and F.”
“But if it’s an actor like in Cosmopolis or some lowballing copycat?”
“This might be a distraction while the real heist happens elsewhere.”
“Boys, Dr. Wraith has broadcast to the city that in 45 minutes he is activating a neutron bomb unless 108 people are killed by the WPPD,” said Dr. Sterling over their headsets.
“If we’re lucky he has 108 minions.” Cosmic Kid figured Dr. Sterling had probably heard his insult earlier, but was unsure if he should be embarrassed or pleased about that.
“White Knight is arriving at Tower A and Seawolf and Camille are in Tower C; Starfish is on the way,” said Dr. Sterling. “We are integrated into the tower complex security system, like we are through most of the city, but our bad guy has hacked the system so we’re running a little blind. However, using the telescope in my office, I think there are some people on the top of your Tower.”
“Affirmative, we have it under control,” said Blue Star, coldly clicking off the broadcast from Dr. Sterling.
“So what’s the plan, Boss Man?” asked Cosmic Kid.
“We exit the elevator. Quickly plow through any minions to the roof. Deactivate the bomb and catch the bad guys.”
“There’s a simplicity to it that’s for sure,” said Cosmic Kid as the elevator stopped at the top floor. He noticed that the temperature was dropping in the elevator, which was no doubt due to Blue Star’s ice powers – either nerves or preparing for action.
Both Cosmic Kid and Blue Star moved to the sides of the elevator, in a maneuver that they timed perfectly to avoid the automatic gunfire that the goons on this floor fired into the elevator as the doors opened. Cosmic Kid pulled out a flash-bang and Blue Star nodded. Cosmic Kid tossed it out of the elevator and a deafening noise and flash echoed from outside the elevator, followed by a few chords from Ode to Joy. Cosmic Kid had learned that all of Dr. Sterling’s hardware had amusing little surprises like that. He couldn’t help but appreciate Dr. Sterling’s sense of humor, which made him question his own sanity. The bolas that excreted poison sumac on those caught in them and the digital handcuffs that snickered as you strained against them were funny, yes, psychotic probably, but funny nonetheless.
As the Ode to Joy played, Cosmic Kid sprinted out low from the elevator and saw four gunmen in various states of discomfort. “So what was it like back in the old days?” asked Cosmic Kid as he knocked one of the thugs into unconsciousness with a punch to the head.
“I had to walk five miles in the snow to find a phone booth,” said Blue Star as he encased the other three in a blast of ice.
“No, seriously, what was it like to fight the Vanghel and Russian supervillains? I bet it was super cool!” Cosmic Kid dashed towards the stairs that led to the roof. The goon in front of the door fired at him, but his ultimesh costume deflected the glancing blows and he was able to tackle the goon, disarm him, and then throw him down the hallway into a heap.
“Listen, Kid, they invented books for a reason.” Blue Star opened the door to the stairs, plummeted the temperature, and caused flurries of snow and ice to fill the stairway. Several more goons were coming down to engage them and a few slipped and fell down the steps.
“Yeah, but you were there. I mean you dated Lady Liberty and Ms. Omega, back before they got old!” Cosmic Kid went into the stairway next, and had to slow down because of the ice. He sort of wished that Blue Star hadn’t iced everything as it would slow his advance up the steps.
“Kid, don’t believe all you read in the tabloids,” said Blue Star as he flew up the stairwell towards the exit to the roof. Cosmic Kid realized he had done the ice to slow him down. He knew Blue Star wasn’t going for the glory, but was probably trying to keep Cosmic Kid, the youngster, from the superbrawl. He wasn’t having any of it.
“Come on, I know you got some superheroine action back in the day! I saw the movie.” Cosmic Kid scrambled up the steps, sliding and shifting, but fully determined to exit the roof right behind Blue Star.
“I told you to never mention that movie,” said Blue Star as he slammed open the door to the roof.
“Didn’t get a good royalties deal, did you?” Cosmic Kid jumped through the door right behind Blue Star, feeling a little bruised and mangled from slipping and sliding on the ice.
“It was unauthorized… ,” started Blue Star, as he exited to the roof and was tackled by some seven-foot-tall ‘thing’.
It looked like a cross between a Borg from Star Trek and a rejected Muppet from Sesame Street and seemed intent on crushing the life out of Blue Star. Cosmic Kid was about to engage, when he noticed several more gunmen preparing to fire on him. He dived for cover behind a massive air conditioning unit that ringed out as it was hit by bullets. Thankfully the darkness on the roof helped to conceal him.
“Could you please use your micro-camcorder so I can see the situation,” said Dr. Sterling in his ear.
“Blue Star is getting crushed by a Borg Muppet and I’m pinned by gunmen,” snapped Cosmic Kid, though he did activate the micro-camcorder and quickly flashed it around the roof.
“Alright, seven gunmen, four are on you, two are waiting for a shot on Blue Star, one is back by Dr. Wraith who is fiddling with something, probably his bomb,” said Dr. Sterling. “On the count of seven you run for Dr. Wraith, one—”
“And get mowed down?!” exclaimed Cosmic Kid.
“Four, five, six,” continued Dr. Sterling impassively.
She’s insane and I’m about to get killed, thought Cosmic Kid but he knew the rules: if the operations director said jump – you didn’t ask how high. You just jumped as high and as far as you could.
“Seven!”
Cosmic Kid sprang up and started running and saw Camille crash into the four gunmen firing on his location, taking them all down in a heap. He sprinted for Dr. Wraith across the rooftop. It was time to get serious. He pulled a disc from his utility belt and pushed a button on it which turned into a small chakra. Chakras were something of a tradition on Teen Ultimate. Supposedly, years ago a super teen who was a fan of Xena developed them for the team. They were more stylish than guns, which was the rule for supers.
Cosmic Kid hurled the chakra at the last gunman; it impacted into his chest and threw him to the ground. The blades wouldn’t go deep enough to kill him, it was the force of the impact that knocked him down, but it would leave some nice scars. Gyro Girl used to try to put the team logo on everything they used; he wouldn’t be surprised if she had done that with the chakras as well. Really, what the hell was the Ultimate League thinking to give their super teens so much leeway?
“So if it isn’t Cosmic Kid!” spoke Dr. Wraith, who probably had to have some voice training as he delivered the rather ho-hum line with plenty of malice and venom. Cosmic Kid was impressed.
“If it isn’t some freak dressed in black trying to bring Béla Lugosi back into vogue,” said Cosmic Kid, who knew nothing pissed off supervillains more than pretending you didn’t know who they were.
“I’m—” began Dr. Wraith when Cosmic Kid tackled him and the two went rolling across the roof. Cosmic Kid was surprised, the guy was pretty light, truly skin and bones. It was a struggle to transfer the small cylinder from his utility belt to Dr. Wraith’s ragged black cloak, but that’s why operations directors made you practice that sort of maneuver over and over again.
“DIE!” roared Dr. Wraith as his eyes started to glow, which was Cosmic Kid’s cue to toss the supervillain off the roof. He could levitate so it wouldn’t kill him, that is if
it was the actual Dr. Wraith, but it would keep him away from the bomb long enough to give Blue Star and Camille some time to regroup.
Cosmic Kid ran back to the bomb as Blue Star was arriving, out of breath, but functioning. Camille was now fighting the Borg Muppet and making mincemeat of it with her super strength and cosmic energy blasts. “So Old Guy can you defuse a neutron bomb?”
“Sure, it’s like riding a bike,” said Blue Star.
“Unfortunately for you I have the controls,” said Dr. Wraith, who had levitated up and was holding a cell phone-like device.
“Whatever,” muttered Cosmic Kid, pushing a button on his utility belt, which activated the EMP he had stuck to Dr. Wraith when he tackled him. A flash of blue light coursed over Dr. Wraith, who started pushing the button on the device to no avail. Blue Star let out a sigh of relief and pulled off the cover to the bomb casing and quickly scanned it.
Dr. Wraith began opening the battery pack of the remote.
“I thought you died in Cosmopolis,” said Cosmic Kid.
“That was an imposter!” said Dr. Wraith, looking insulted at the question. “I have left retirement to seek vengeance because… ” He didn’t get to finish as Cosmic Kid let fly his last chakra, smashing the remote and hurling Dr. Wraith off the roof again.
“What’s it look like?” asked Cosmic Kid, turning back to the bomb and peering over Blue Star’s shoulder.
“Stop blocking my light,” grumbled Blue Star, who nevertheless started pointing at various parts of the bomb. “False connections, chameleon connections – typical stuff. Yeah, like I thought. You can’t disarm this without setting it off.” He sounded rather upbeat given that prognosis, so Cosmic Kid suspected he had a trick in mind. “The thing is,” continued Blue Star as he began fiddling with some wires, “and I learned this from Paragon years ago – trade secret – you’ve just got to convince the bomb that it already went off – that’s the way to deal with these modern computerized bombs.”
Cosmic Kid was filing that away for future reference, when Dr. Wraith swooped back up to the roof with death rays blaring from his eyes and hands. Cosmic Kid dived and rolled across the roof avoiding the attacks. “Not bad, Dr. Witch, not bad at all.” Okay, just as bad as not knowing them was getting their name wrong.
“INSOLENT MORTAL!” roared Dr. Wraith as he created a powerful blast that blew a large section of the roof to pieces and partially caught Cosmic Kid. He felt pain course through his body and a weird tingling sensation.
Thankfully, the good Doctor had a recharge time like most supers and through that window of powerlessness came Camille. “I prescribe a right hook and a few decades of prison!” she cried, catching him with a powerful blow, which probably would have taken the head off of a normal person, but Dr. Wraith wasn’t normal, he probably wasn’t even alive, thought Cosmic Kid. However, the blow drove him down into a communication tower which collapsed around him.
“You probably need to talk to the writers – that was a lousy line,” said Cosmic Kid as he staggered over. He was already feeling better due to his superior immune system, which wasn’t as potent as Starfish’s, but pretty damn impressive nonetheless.
Camille laughed. “The lines are supposed to be bad! The worse the line the more likely it becomes popular. You kids today.”
“Bomb defused. Dr. Wraith?” asked Blue Star as he came up.
“Dead?” asked Cosmic Kid, looking at the mangled body in the pile of metal.
“If memory serves you can’t kill Dr. Wraith as he is already dead – some sort of ghost I think,” said Camille.
“Yeah,” said Blue Star.
“So what do we do with him?” asked Cosmic Kid.
“Ultimax – they can hold all supervillains, even the living impaired,” said Blue Star.
“Containment team already en route, he’ll be shipped to Alcatraz where all the undead get dumped,” said Dr. Sterling over their headsets. “Good job, everyone. WPPD is on the way for cleanup and the press is waiting in the lobby downstairs.”
Cosmic Kid had to smile; this was what he loved about being a superhero.
Chapter 18
5:21 p.m., Tuesday, April 30th, 2013
Mattheson Elementary School
West Pacific, CA
“I’m here!” yelled Camille, swooping in for a picture-perfect two-step landing next to her husband, who was pacing by their car.
Jules looked at her accusingly. “You’re late.”
“Look, I’m sorry, I came as fast as I could.” Camille was annoyed. She had kicked ass in this morning’s mock press conference, had one of the best training sessions of her life this afternoon, and had just thwarted a bank robbery and saved the lives of 15 hostages trapped in the vault. Sure, she was almost an hour late, but hadn’t she been out saving the world?
“Sorry,” she repeated, in a tone she knew sounded peeved. “Something came up.”
“Something always comes up,” said Jules angrily. “But we agreed that when it comes to Meghan, ‘something’ has to take a back seat.”
He glared at her testily and she felt her blood start to boil. Not literally of course, literally was a much different and more unpleasant sensation as she’d discovered when facing off against Inferno a couple years back. “Look, this is only a parent-teacher conference, right? It’s not like I’m late for her international stage debut.”
He gave her a withering look. “Don’t try to brush this off, Camille. This is important and you know that.” Whenever he lectured her, he looked older, she thought. Of course, he was older, 12 years older as a matter of fact, but right now it looked more like 20.
“Fine,” she snapped. “Next time I’ll tell the hostages in the bank vault to just hold their breath until I’m done with my parent-teacher conference. I’m sure they’ll understand.” This was a cheap shot and she knew it. Jules didn’t even respond, just gave her another disapproving look. They fumed silently into the building together.
Room 102 was located at the intersection of Respect Avenue, a hallway painted cherry red, and Honesty Street, which was pineapple yellow. The large bulletin board outside the classroom featured a laminated tree on which was taped an apple for each member of the class, with a close-up picture and first name. Meghan’s eyes were wide in her photo as if she was surprised or maybe scared. Camille suddenly felt nervous. Jules was right; this was important. She had to get out of hero-mode and remember that when it came to Meghan, the most important thing she could do was to be just a mom. I am just a mom, she thought to herself as they entered the classroom. It’s not always about me; this is about Meghan. I am just a regular mom.
To Camille’s surprise, Ms. Mallory couldn’t have been more than 25. She beamed at them and cried out “Mr. and Mrs. Camille!” Camille could feel Jules blanch beside her.
“It’s actually Richardson-Franklyn,” said Camille quickly, shaking the woman’s hand. “But you can call us Camille and Jules if you like.”
The young woman looked so excited as she shook hands that Camille was sure she was about to ask for an autograph. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” Camille said, sitting in one of the small red chairs across from the teacher’s desk. “I am sorry we’re late,” she added, with sincerity this time. Ms. Mallory brushed the apology aside with a wave.
“Don’t be silly!” she laughed. “Mrs. Brown-Kennings popped her head in earlier to let me know about the bank robbery. How terrifying! Did you save everyone?”
“Yeah, we did,” said Camille, feeling awkward again and flushing slightly as Jules stiffened on the chair next to her.
“Fantastic! After you beat Dr. Wraith and the team secured #4, you’ve got a real chance to sweep the Conference,” Ms. Mallory said. “Faust is missing after that fight with the dragon in San Francisco and he’s all that’s holding Golden Gate Heroes together. The Firebirds are overrated and the High Rollers always fall apart at the end of the Season. #1 is West Pacific’s to lose!”
“Can we talk about Meghan, which is
the point of this meeting?” asked Jules icily.
“Oh, she’s a delight, such a precocious little girl! She particularly enjoys her specials - art, music, PE. She’s had a little trouble sitting still for reading group, but she’s bound to have lots of energy, isn’t she? I did want to ask - there’s nothing in her record, but… does Meghan have any special abilities I should be aware of?”
“Special abilities?” asked Camille blankly.
“She has an excellent ear,” replied Jules, rather dryly Camille thought.
“Oh, no, I more meant in the way of… ” Ms. Mallory’s voice dropped as she leaned forward. “Super powers.”
Camille laughed. “No, no Meghan isn’t a mutant.”
“That we know of,” added Jules.
“So she could still develop powers!” said Ms. Mallory excitedly. “I’ve been reading about that. Times of stress, often around puberty, right? Girls of course do get an initial dose of hormones around seven, though that wouldn’t be until next year… ” She looked disappointed to realize that Meghan was unlikely to manifest super powers in her classroom.
“How is she fitting into the class?” asked Camille, desperate to get the conversation back to something normal.
“Quite well,” responded Ms. Mallory. “I’ve paired her with Julie Chao, the daughter of Dr. Steven Chao, the well-known physicist at West Pacific Laboratories. He’s a mutant too.”
“Why did you think they’d make a good pair?” Camille asked, trying to keep her voice light.
Ms. Mallory looked confused. “Well I thought it would make Meghan feel more at home to know that she wasn’t the only one with a special parent.”
Jules’ hands tightened on the edge of his seat.
“Why don’t you tell us about your plans to catch Meghan up with the rest of the class?” said Camille brightly. Jules was clearly pissed off and not about to contribute to this conference and Ms. Mallory seemed incapable of picking up on how poor of an impression she was making. As usual, it was up to her to save the day.
West Pacific Supers: Rising Tide Page 22