The Infinite League

by John Jr. Yeo

I had seen it when I flew here from the hospital, so I knew just where I was going. Once we were over my target, I descended from the sky to about twenty feet over the ground. Then I let go.

  He landed, more or less harmlessly, into the middle of the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool. He was under the water for just a few seconds, and he splashed and thrashed violently until he was back on his feet again. Covered with water, wearing half a costume, and angrier than hell.

  There was nowhere for him to turn. The rectangular border of the pool had now been blocked by a four-foot high wall of fire that I had just called into existence. I hovered just above the water, staring him down, and taunting him with a confident smile.

  “What is this?” He looked around in all directions, but there was nothing but fire and water sealing the both of us in. “What is this?”

  “It’s a cage match, motherfucker.”

  It got the reaction I was looking for. He tossed off a cautious bolt of lightning in my direction, but I easily dodged it by floating to the right. Without his costume, some residual electricity sparked into the water, and gave him a jolt. It wasn’t enough to knock him out, or even knock him off his feet, but it stunned him. He knew that using his powers in here was suicide. He couldn’t fight back.

  I flew right at him, fists forward, and knocked him upwards into the air and back in the water. As cage matches go, it was short, brutal and almost unfairly one-sided.

  It took me about three more passes of fly-by assaults to put down this murdering psychopath for good. I wouldn’t really want anyone to know this, but every punch felt even more satisfying than the last.

  When I returned to the steps of the National Archives, the transport van had finally arrived with DeathTek. A support vehicle from the DSA was there, and medical technicians were busying themselves by examining the Ambassador. He was nodding as they asked questions, but his eyes seemed glazed and unfocused. He was actually coughing occasionally. When you got a glimpse of the world’s greatest super-hero looking just as mortal as the rest of us, it sent a creeping chill down your spine.

  There were a dozen police officers on hand, with uniforms and vehicles identifying them as Enhanced Crime Division officers. Every major police station has such a division, since we can’t always rely on a super hero being around to bring an enhanced criminal into custody.

  “You did good, ol’ girl,” DeathTek told me, smacking me on the back with his metallic hand. “The Enhanced Crimes division wouldn’t have been here in time to stop the guy.”

  By the time Shock Daddy had come back to consciousness, his hands had been shackled behind his back with a set of rusty manacles that seemed appropriate for restraining a rhino.

  “That was my first super villain beat down,” I gloated to him. “At the very least, you should buy a round of beers for us.”

  “I don’t drink,” he told me. Not all that surprising, given how I’ve never even seen him take that armored helmet off. I was starting to wonder if he was horribly deformed underneath that lid. What secret was he hiding?

  “You don’t have any vices?”

  I’m not sure I intended it to sound as flirty as I did, but the awkward silence that followed was painfully uncomfortable.

  “You realize I’m a sophisticated cybernetic intelligence, right?”

  “What? Like a robot?”

  “A robot is a mindless automated arm on a factory assembly line. Are you trying to hurt my feelings?”

  “We can still hang out,” I grinned. “It wouldn’t be my first time with a machine.”

  Oh shit, did I really just say that? Am I really trying to mack on DeathTek, the armored gladiator of the Infinite League? All I could do is just grin, own it, and not dig a deeper hole for myself. I’d smack my forehead later when no one was looking.

  “We have to get back to the Dome,” he said finally, brushing off the comments. “Ambassador is being driven back in the van, so there’s no more room for all of us.”

  “Got it, I’ll fly behind you.”

  “You’re still in a bit of a probationary grey area,” he reminded me. “I wouldn’t fly off in another direction. Don’t give Colonel Bridge a reason to do something unpleasant. I’m sort of warming up to you.”

  To tell the truth, the notion of flying away hadn’t even crossed my mind until he mentioned it. But now, the compelling urge to fly back to Philadelphia was burning holes in my consciousness. It was only 140 miles away, after all. I could fly there, hug my child, explain to Ann-Marie what was really going on, and fly back without anyone missing me.

  But then I remembered about that thing sewn into the back of my head. It could have been a bomb, a mind control chip, a tracking beacon…perhaps even a little of all three.

  If I was ever going to see Caleb again, I couldn’t take any stupid chances. I aimed myself back in the direction of headquarters, and flung myself into the sky.

  Maybe taking out Shock Daddy nearly single-handedly would give me a little bit of breathing room with the bosses.

  I could hope.

  13

  Infiltration

  Sunday, May 25 – 10:00 a.m.

  The next couple of days were spent in the rehabilitation wings. I wasn’t badly hurt in my fight with Shock Daddy, but the lightning blasts I took to the chest and the legs had left me with some minor burns. I was told I was lucky that his assaults didn’t stop my heart. But the good news was that Andromeda’s capture of the thief who killed four people and tried to steal the Emancipation Proclamation was the top story of the day. I was being treated like a prisoner, even though the world was cheering my name outside these walls. You know what I call that? I’m wading in a pool made of piss-flavored irony.

  Since the original Andromeda chose to parade around wearing a skirt and I had to keep up appearances, my legs got the worst of it. I had to take several painful rounds of having Bacitracin and Silvadene antibiotic ointments applied to my knees and thighs.

  By Sunday, the only lingering effects of my fight was a bit of tenderness and a few fading bruises. I was declared fit for duty, and free to go back out into the world to fight crime and make the world safe for decent citizens everywhere.

  But the aches and bruises were the least of my concerns today. I sat quietly, but cooperatively, as Dr. Progeriat did a complete work-up of my vitals. Physically, I was in great shape. Emotionally, I was at my lowest point since dad had died.

  “You’re healthy enough for field duty again,” he decided. “Was there anything else you need to discuss?”

  “I haven’t seen my son in almost a month,” I reminded him.

  “I’ve allowed you communication privileges with your family,” he countered. “For now, that’s all I can offer you.”

  “I’ve had to lie to them about being a terrorist for the last three weeks, it’s making it….my son is starting to get distant. I can tell. What if he stops wanting to talk to me?”

  “Try not to worry,” Dr. Progeriat laughed. “He’s your boy. He’ll love you no matter what you…”

  “Are you a parent, Dr. Progeriat? Do you have any idea what this might do to my family?”

  Dr. Progeriat stood up, adjusted his white coat, and gave me a serious stare. “Emmeline, you are starting to earn my trust. I’m ecstatic over your victory over that electrical felon. But I would prefer that you did not run home while we’re still developing a reasonable cover story to explain your absence. Once we’ve established a solid level of trust, we’ll discuss allowing you to return home for weekend furloughs.”

  Furloughs, such as a common criminal would receive. I gave the old man a bit of noncommittal grumbling, which probably wasn’t going to look good on my record. There was something that had been bugging me all day, but I didn’t feel like baring my soul to him. He left me alone with a half-hearted invitation to visit him if I ever wanted to open up, and I was alone.

  For about three minutes.

  I was just about to leave the medical ward and hit the gym when the chamber d
oor opened up. I thought it was the base physician, returning to shower me with a dozen pamphlets on how to reduce the itching and irritation from my battle wounds, but it turned out to be someone I was even less interested in seeing. He was tall, dark and brooding, and probably still years from forgiving me for my involvement in Andromeda’s death. I really didn’t want to be in a room alone with the one enhanced human said to be the master of black magic and death.

  “Dr. Progeriat isn’t here, he’ll be back in a few minutes,” I told the Necromancer, subtly readjusting my bra. “Did you need something?”

  “Colonel Bridge is in the War Room,” he announced in that unnerving calm voice of his. “He’s asked you to join the rest of us for a morning briefing as soon as you’ve finished with your examination.”

  “I’m done. I’ll be down there in just a few.”

  The Necromancer shut the door, but he remained in the room. He lowered his black hood, revealing his face, and he stared at me quietly. I had only caught a few quick glimpses of him without his hood, but I had never stared at him directly like this. What I saw caused a chill to creep down my spine.

  Captain Quincy said he had a condition called xeroderma pigmentosum. He has extreme sensitivity to light in the ultraviolet range, which could cause sunburn, freckling of the skin, and unnatural pigmentation. There were sufferers who had it far worse than he did, but he still had eyes that glared with a bloodshot tint. The cornea were cloudy, as if were blind.

  He stood just a shade over six feet tall, and he had the sort of shoulders that looked like he could plow through a concrete wall. It was no wonder people saw him as an angel of death.

  “Something on your mind, Necromancer?” I asked carefully.

  “Chidike Babangida,” he said.

  “Chi-dee-keh?”

  “That’s my name,” he continued. “Chidike Babangida. It’s West African. It means God is Strong.”

  “I’m Emmeline,” I replied slowly, a little unsure where this was going. “It means God is Laughing at Me.”

  “You joke, Emmeline?”

  It was a serious question, followed by an absurdly awkward pause. He really didn’t know if I was kidding him or not. I had no idea that he didn’t have a sense of humor. Not even a little bit. “Yeah. I’m just bullshitting you, man. You can call me Emily.”

  “The American sense of humor has always been challenging for me to follow. It was Natalie’s biggest complaint with me.”

  I now knew that he and Andromeda had been an item. At least, they were before she got accidentally shot in the head by my best friend. Maybe I would have felt worse for him if he hadn’t broken her neck. But somehow, judging by how he was standing and almost at a loss for words, it seemed like he wanted to get something off of his chest. I thought this was going to be an uncomfortable confrontation. I was expecting him to come in and warn me that he would never forgive me, and that I would pay for what I had done. But somehow, this seemed like it was turning into something else entirely.

  “Are you becoming accustomed to wearing the gauntlets?” he asked. “Natalie always mentioned they gave her headaches.”

  “No, not really,” I admitted. “Are they supposed to?”

  “Dr. Progeriat has performed numerous tests on them, but the results have always remained inconclusive. It’s said that they’re always drawn to someone who is destined to prevent the end of the world as we know it. The possibility remains that you were more worthy of them than she was.”

  That was a fairly heavy concept, and I wasn’t sure I liked the implications.

  “I saw you in the cafeteria earlier,” he said again, changing the subject now. “You seemed distracted by unpleasant news.”

  “I’ve been yanked from my life and my son and forced to risk my life pretending to be your girlfriend. Wouldn’t you be distracted?”

  “This is something else, I think.”

  He was actually pretty sharp. There was something bothering me, but I didn’t want to lean on his shoulder about it. “I’d really rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind. I don’t mean to be a bitch, but I don’t think this is something you can help me with.”

  He nodded quietly, surprisingly accepting my decision. “You must assume I hate you.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” I said gently. “I really am sorry about what happened to your fiancé.”

  “Not nearly as sorry as I am, I promise you.”

  Here it comes, I thought. This is where I get the huge lecture about how I’ve killed a national heroine, and how he’ll never rest until I’ve paid for my sins. As if my life wasn’t complicated enough.

  “I promised my father that for all the power that I possess, I would never take the life of an innocent person. I have betrayed that promise.”

  Okay, not exactly what I was expecting to hear. “You kill people all the time. You’re the damned Necromancer---I’ve heard people talk about the skulls you keep in your basement to cast whatever black magic spells you do.”

  For the first time since I’d gotten to know him, he actually smiled, but it was brief and fleeting. “People certainly do talk, don’t they? But what I say to you is true---the only lives I have claimed are those that kill others. A thief does not deserve execution, at least not in my eyes. Certainly not in my father’s eyes.”

  “Yet I don’t see you appearing before a court, do I?”

  “She shot at one of us, and she may have turned the gun on me. Lethal force was deemed an appropriate response. As a former police officer, surely you can understand this?”

  “Those rules shouldn’t apply to people like you,” I debated, trying to keep my voice calm. “You have abilities that normal police don’t have. I’m sure you could have disarmed her without breaking her fucking neck, man.”

  “Obviously, the DSA is keeping her death a secret, so there will be no trial. But if I suffer from such an egregious lapse in judgment again, I may find myself indefinitely suspended from the team. I could find myself in the Grey Palace, actually.”

  “So you’re saying you’re getting away with a warning?”

  “I am being punished every day, please believe me.”

  “I want to, but I was born a skeptic and then I just got worse. Why don’t you elaborate for me?”

  “Your friend? Sadaf? What she did was an accident. She fired her weapon out of fear, because of the reputation that my exploits have spread. She did not mean to kill Andromeda. But in my anger, I lost control. I killed her, and it was undeserved. I have betrayed the promise to my father. I have killed an innocent.”

  Suddenly, I realized the fleeting moment from a few nights ago. He was discussing his great shame with Submission and the other mysterious man that I’d only seen a few times before. He was seriously going through a major guilt trip about this. In fact, now that I think about it, I wouldn’t be surprised if it had been a suicide intervention. I really wasn’t sure what to say. I took a seat on the nearby chair, adopting a less defensive posture to relax him, and I spoke to him in a softer voice.

  “What would your father want you to do?”

  “Sadaf Sayegh had no family to speak of,” he continued, ignoring my question. “Is that true?”

  “She had a father and three brothers back in Habindaque,” I admitted.

  “But she was not close to them?”

  “That’s safe to say. They whipped her for being a lesbian. She was warned that if she continued her relationship with her girlfriend, she would be subjected to an honor killing. She came to America to escape that sort of persecution.”

  “She became friends with you, and together you helped the defenseless by attacking predators and criminals. Such as Samuel Fleckmore.”

  “A man who downloads kiddie porn by the ton. A man who was leading me back to the asshole who films it for the perverted degenerates out in the world. We were doing the work that you heroes don’t bother with. You guys came after us when we stole his computer, and now the big fish is going to go free.
”

  “We were ordered to,” he explained. “You tugged at a string that someone in the DSA doesn’t want unraveled.”

  “Well, that doesn’t make any sense. Who would possibly care if we were trying to track down someone who distributes child porn?”

  “Maybe when I figure that out, I can begin to atone for some of my errors,” he said. He opened the door, gesturing for me to follow him with a subtle nod.

  “We’re not done with this conversation, are we?”

  “No, we are not,” he agreed firmly. “Not until equal reparations have been made.”

  “It’s too late for her.”

  “Then the reparations shall have to be made to you, the only woman who obviously treated her like family.”

  What the hell did he mean by that? Frankly, I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to spend another moment alone with the giant shadowy freak, he completely creeped me out. I just nodded at him, hoping that this would placate him for now, and headed quickly towards the War Room.

  Most of the gang had gathered in what the staff called the War Room. It was basically a briefing room, just like the ones we had back at my old precinct for morning reports before we hit the streets. There were dozens of flimsy metal folding chairs, a few tables lined with coffee and doughnuts, a projector and a screen. It wasn’t anything impressive, just a simple utilitarian room.

  Necromancer was standing close to Submission, and they were quietly but urgently discussing something that sounded very heated and very private. I decided to keep my distance.

  DeathTek arrived next, accompanied by several of the tech geeks from the cybernetics department. Two of them were carrying laptops that were plugged into various ports in DeathTek’s back, and they had to jog to keep up with him. “Give me a break, you nerds! Let’s do the systems check later!”

  I hadn’t really seen much of the Ambassador since Shock Daddy lit him up, and frankly I’m a little worried about the big guy. I looked around the room for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.