“Maggie, what did I tell you about fighting on the beach?” Don asked, as he pointed out the rust spots on Talon’s arm and leg.
“I was too busy building the best team of heroes in the world today to oil these damn things. It slipped my mind.” Talon argued.
“Well, if these had gotten any worse, you’d have been a cripple again… Seriously, you were this close to having the joints lock up.”
“How long will it take to fix?”
“To fix? Weeks.”
Talon was taken aback. “Weeks? I’d have to be off the street for weeks? You do realise I’m the leader of the East Coast Boomers, right?”
“Nobody understands that better than I do.” Don replied. For over a decade, Don had led the West Coast Boomers as ‘The Junker’. “Which is why I made a spare set.” Don smiled.
“Did you really have to lecture me about maintenance then?” Talon took a friendly swing at her friend.
“Yes. Do you remember that guy who put together a Junker suit from my spare parts?”
“Of course I do. He stole my name.”
“Yeah. ‘Magpie’. Because he stole shiny things. That jackass gave us grief for years. I don’t want some psycho replacing his arm and leg with my tech. Looks bad when it comes to staff evaluation time.” Don had retired from the superhero game in 2008, handing the leadership of the West Coast Boomers to GL and taking a government contract, designing the new Patriot Armour. In his spare time, he still took time to help his old friends.
Talon was about to make a reply, when her pager began beeping.
“Crap. How quick can you get me hooked up to the spares?” She asked.
“By the time Nymphette gets here from her shoot at the Statue of Liberty, that’s for sure.” Don replied.
<><><>
“That’s it baby, loving it, loving it.” The photographer said, as the flashbulbs went off.
His subject was Maxim’s Hottest Superhero two years running, The Mistress of Moisture, the Angel of Aquakinesis, Nymphette. They were working on a series of promotional pictures for the New York City Chamber of Commerce. She’d already been photographed at the Empire State Building, and would be at the Brooklyn Bridge the next day.
“How much longer?” Nymphette asked, as she pouted and posed for the camera.
“Not much longer. The camera loves you. Every shot is perfect.” The photographer flattered her, as he kept snapping.
Nymphette’s pager began to beep. “Good thing then. We’re going to have to cut this one a little short babe.” Nymphette said, pulling the pager from her purse. “Gotta go save the world.”
<><><>
Thunderbolt swung his hammer one last time, cleaving the huge funnel of the tornado in two. The storm began to dissipate almost instantaneously, the magic of Mjolnir completing the job begun by the broken twister.
He touched down and began surveying the damage. Calhoun, Kentucky was a small town, but the tornado had torn up a lot of buildings. It was going to be a long afternoon’s work.
The locals began crowding around him, cheering as he began piling wrecked cars together, clearing the streets for the support crews that would be arriving within hours.
He cursed as his beeper went off. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Duty calls.”
Thunder cracked in the distance, as Thunderbolt took off into the air.
<><><>
“And if we isolate this strain right here, we could just cure the common cold.” Dr Eugene Phillips, better known to the world as The Freak, said.
“Assuming it works in humans, of course.” His new lab partner, Dr Peter Ulrich, The Gibbon, said, as he swirled the contents of his test tube.
Since they had found themselves team-mates earlier in the week, the two had discovered they had something in common, both men were biologists. They had bonded quickly, and were already putting their headquarters’ laboratories to good use.
“We’re not even sure it works on mice yet.” Dr Phillips laughed.
“We’ve got plenty of time to figure that out.” Dr Ulrich replied.
Both men’s pagers began beeping.
“Or not.” Dr Ulrich muttered.
<><><>
Hannah stared at her phone, wondering why her boyfriend hadn’t called yet. She hadn’t heard from him in days, ever since the day of the press conference. What was that boy up to?
She jumped as she heard a beeping noise, seizing her phone in excitement. Her face fell, as she realised it was her pager going off instead.
“I guess I’d better go answer this instead.” She said. “I’d better find a missed call when I get back.”
<><><>
“The computer picked this up off a police radio band in Queens. Extreme is destroying everything within a two-mile radius.” Talon said.
“Then what are we waiting for? It’s Boom Time!” Nymphette said.
“Worst catchphrase ever.” Hyper Girl said.
“Don’t start.” The Gibbon said.
“We need a plan. She’s strong.” Talon said.
“And we’ve got Thunderbolt. What’s the problem?” Nymphette asked.
“I must agree Maggie.” The Freak said. “Surely Thunderbolt is her equal, at the very least.”
Talon sighed. “Ok, let’s go. Thunderbolt is to engage her head on, the rest of us are to contain the damage she’s caused, and to stop anymore.”
“You’ve got it.” Thunderbolt said, hefting Mjolnir. “What should I expect?”
“Extreme is strong, fast and super hot.” Nymphette said. “Like, literally. She can control temperature. And she’s got a quick healing factor. We fought her on the West Coast a bunch of times.”
“But UNLEASHED got the capture.” Hyper Girl added. “I saw it on the news.”
“Hey, when we’re putting Radon back in his nursing home, we’ll talk to you babe, but until then, the big kids are talking.” Nymphette snapped.
“What about the Order of Darkness? Got any tips for them? How about Constellation? Because I fought both. What have you guys got going on the West Coast that even compares to the guys we fight over here?” Hyper Girl shouted.
“Girls, can we deal with this crap later? We’ve got a supervillain to deal with, remember?” The Gibbon asked.
“She started it.” Nymphette pouted.
“Shut up Jasmine.” Talon ordered. “We’ll deal with Extreme, then worry about the catfight.”
<><><>
The Sonic Boom II hovered above the carnage, sitting just below the cloud of smoke that was building above the city, as homes and businesses burned below.
“Ok, Nymphette, hit the fires. Hyper Girl and Gibbon, you’re with me, we’re saving people from debris and just generally keeping the civilians safe. Freak, I need you inside buildings, there are bound to be people inside. Thunderbolt, just go do what you do.” Talon issued her orders.
The bottom of the jet opened, and Thunderbolt leapt out, landing on the ground with a loud crash, right next to Extreme.
The villainess was beautiful, her black leather outfit barely covering her curvy body, a wicked smile adorning her full lips. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?” She asked, turning her attention to the hero.
“Thunderbolt.” He said simply, as he swung a fist at her face.
Extreme dodged out of the way with ease. “Oh. Big, dumb, thunder-god wannabe. Got it.”
Thunderbolt swung again, and Extreme ducked below the shot, before laying a series of jabs into the hero’s stomach.
Thunderbolt doubled over as the blows hit him, she was strong.
“Awww. Did you get a boo-boo?” She taunted, as her fists began raining down on him, as he raised his hands to block.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Thunderbolt smiled.
<><><>
“Man, he is getting pummelled.” Hyper Girl said, as she blasted a falling brick into dust, which rained down upon the fleeing family.
“He can take it, at least until we get everyone to safety.” Talon said, as she herded the civilians down the street.
“Here’s two more.” The Gibbon said, as he dropped a couple softly down onto the sidewalk. “Gene’s clearing out the bottom floors where the fire is, I’m helping out upstairs. Care to join?”
Hyper Girl nodded, and flew towards the building, as Talon continued to herd the running crowd of people.
“Oh wow, he’s really getting pummelled.” The Gibbon said.
“Quiet.” Talon ordered, as she began to formulate a plan.
<><><>
Thunderbolt took everything Extreme threw at him, her physical blows, her waves of scorching heat and blistering cold. He never faltered, just continued to take the punishment. He knew his team-mates would help him; he just had to face her while they saved the innocents.
He began his own assault, swinging Mjolnir around and clipping her leg, sending her tumbling and shattering her femur.
“So you’re not as slow as I thought?” Extreme asked, as the twisted wreckage of her leg began reforming itself.
“I have my moments.” Thunderbolt replied, as he charged forward. But Extreme was already back on her feet, ducking below the hero and throwing him from underneath, sending him reeling.
She was ready to make another attack, but found herself on the receiving end of a Hyper Blast.
“Not so fast skank.” Hyper Girl said, as she began launching a volley of blasts.
“I don’t have time for little girls.” Extreme shouted, allowing each shot to hit her, before returning fire. Hyper Girl’s photon shield barely held up against the beams of pure heat.
“Even one who’s going to kick your ass?” Hyper Girl asked, as she blasted at her opponent some more.
Nymphette got in on the action, dousing Extreme with water, but the villainess ignored the firehose-powered blasts, instead focussing on Hyper Girl.
She was so focussed; she didn’t notice The Freak barrelling down on her, or The Gibbon ducking behind her. The Freak tackled Extreme, sending her tripping over The Gibbon’s back and crashing into a puddle of water.
The Freak was on his feet first, grabbing The Gibbon and tossing him towards a building.
“NOW!” Talon ordered.
Thunderbolt smiled, as a bolt of electricity arced across the sky, striking the drenched Extreme square in the chest, knocking her out and burning her body immensely.
“Well, I’d certainly call that a win.” Hyper Girl noted.
“Are you kidding? We just took down Extreme!” The Gibbon shouted.
<><><>
“Are you kidding? I’m going to have to get my nails redone before my shoot tomorrow!” Nymphette complained, as she helped Hyper Girl lift a jagged piece of a broken wooden beam.
“Suck it up Princess.” Hyper Girl said. “Thunderbolt’s only with us on the provision that we help him help regular people.”
“But still, this is like, manual labour.” Nymphette said. “I’m too pretty to do manual labour.”
“Quiet.” Talon ordered, as she hefted the other half of the broken beam. “We’re going to help clean up this town, Thunderbolt said the tornado he stopped was one of the biggest he’s seen. They need our help here.”
“Besides, I have a special mission for you next week.” Thunderbolt said. “There’s a village in Namibia where I promised to break a drought, but even I can’t mess with the weather patterns like that, I’m going to need a hand.”
“Like, in Africa? Eww!” Nymphette squealed.
“Doesn’t Angelina do a lot of missionary work in Africa?” Hyper Girl asked.
“Oh yeah. Hey, maybe it’s not such a bad idea.” Nymphette said.
“I thought you’d see it my way.” Thunderbolt laughed.
Soong took a drag from his cigarette, savouring the taste as he looked out across the plains. It was a quiet night, but they always were. To be sent to this outpost was a vacation. Sentry duty was easy, and nothing ever happened.
He noticed a wind picking up, as dust clouds formed on the horizon, but thought nothing of it. He took a final breath of his cigarette, before stubbing it out on the floor below him.
Soong heard nothing as the dark shape emerged from the ground below. He didn’t have time to raise an alarm, or even to fight back. One second he was enjoying a cigarette, the next he was dead on the ground, his neck snapped.
“Cai to Uncle Sam. The roof is secure.” Cai whispered into his communicator.
“Good to hear. Desert Storm is building our cover now, that dust storm should be here in a few minutes.” Uncle Sam’s voice buzzed back.
“Understood.” Cai whispered, shifting his attention to the only door leading to the roof.
A choking, stinging dust filled the air, but Cai didn’t notice. His power allowed him to become incorporeal at will, and as a result, the dust simply passed through his body.
“Ok, I’m coming down.” Uncle Sam’s voice buzzed.
Cai scanned the skies for a sign of his team-mates. A momentary glimmer of light shining from metal was the only trace he saw.
The grandson of the original Uncle Sam landed next to him in a crouching position, cushioning his landing. Rather than his signature red, white and blue uniform, Uncle Sam was clad in black, from a balaclava over his face, right down to his shoes. At his hip was his famous retractable staff, on his shoulder, a pistol.
Moments later, the second legacy hero on Liberty Force landed next to them, somewhat more gracefully than their leader. The Third American Eagle was dressed identically to Uncle Sam, except for the thin bands of fabric stretching from his wrists to his hips, a failsafe if his power of flight ever gave up on him in midair, a tribute to his grandfather’s fear of flying.
“Patriot, monitor their security feed, I want to know everything they do.” Uncle Sam ordered through the communicator.
“You got it Sam. Are you sure you don’t want me down there?” Patriot buzzed.
“The SecDef wants this to be untraceable. Three guys in black could be anyone. The moment the Patriot armour steps inside, we’re Liberty Force.” Uncle Sam explained.
“Ok, I’ll keep monitoring those frequencies then.” Patriot buzzed.
“Good work soldier.” Uncle Sam said, before turning to his team.
“Ok, as far as we know from the schematics, we need to get to the elevator. From there, we take it down to the basement level. We’ve got the keycard to get in and out, but once we hit that basement, we’re flying blind. I want use of powers kept to the minimum, because like I said, we can’t be traced. I’ll be taking point, if I go down, it’s more important that we get out without leaving evidence than it is to get that intel.” Uncle Sam explained.
“They weren’t exactly specific Sam, what are we looking for?” American Eagle asked.
“The main computer system. Hopefully it’ll be pretty obvious.” Uncle Sam said. “Alright, Black Ops codenames from here on. Splinter, Ghost and Owl.” Sam pointed at himself, Cai and American Eagle respectively.
Uncle Sam approached the door, pushing it open slowly. He peered down into the stairwell, before signalling that the coast was clear. The trio crept down the stairs, maintaining silence as best they could. Ahead, the third floor entrance opened, and the group froze. Four soldiers stepped through the door, closing it behind them before heading downward.
Uncle Sam began signalling his orders. He would take the middle two, the Eagle would take the left, and Cai the right. They were to be silent. As one, the heroes rushed down the stairs in complete silence, catching up to their quarry. Uncle Sam tackled the middle two, grabbing them both around the head and cracking their skulls on the steps below. Cai grabbed his target and snapped his neck, exactly as he had the man on the roof. The Eagle stabbed his own target with his knife, piercing his heart in one thrust, leaving the guard spasming on the ground.
The heroes dragged their victims down the stairs as quietly as possible, encountering no more surprises before reaching the bottom. They hid the bodies as best they could under the stairs, removing the ammunition from their guns and taking their combat knives. Better to not leave extra weapons where their enemies could find them.
Uncle Sam pulled the door ajar, peering through the small opening. He signalled that there were two guards further down the corridor, but they were facing the other way. The team rushed through the door and into the first room off the corridor.
“Ok, we need to get past those guys.” Uncle Sam whispered.
“Too bad they’re standing at an intersection.” The American Eagle replied.
“We can’t guarantee there’s no-one else that has a visual on them, but I doubt it.” Uncle Sam said.
“So what’s the plan?” The Eagle asked.
“You’re heavier than Ghost, right?”
“By at least twenty pounds, why?”
“Running, leaping tackles. We take them out hard and fast, force them out of the line of sight of anyone in that other corridor. If we hit them both high, we should take them out in one move, and they’ll fall forward.”
“You’re insane.”
“Damn right I am.” Uncle Sam grinned, before peering back down the corridor.
He signalled for the Eagle to follow him, and the two tiptoed into the middle of the corridor. Uncle Sam signalled that he would take the one on the left.
Years of training and fighting together left the pair in perfect sync, they ran at identical pace, feet falling at the exact same time, steps the same length, all in near-silence. As they reached the intersection, they both leaped into the air as one, grabbing their targets around the heads and bringing them crashing down to the ground below, rendering both men unconscious, and out of view.
Within moments, Cai was ahead of them, opening the nearest doorway and checking inside, before signalling that the coast was clear. They stashed the bodies and continued on their way.
They reached the elevator without further incident and Uncle Sam swiped his keycard. The door opened and the team bundled in, Cai pressing the ‘Basement’ button.
“Is it just me, or was that way too easy?” The Eagle asked, as the elevator began its descent.
“If the security was this bad, they would have sent someone else.” Cai agreed.
“Maybe you’re just paranoid after all the guys we’ve had to fight lately.” Sam argued, as the elevator door opened.
The team stepped out of the elevator and found themselves staring down the barrels of a dozen guns.
“Or it could be a trap.” Uncle Sam added.
“Drop your weapons.” One of the gunmen said in broken English, waving his rifle at Uncle Sam.
“Or we could go to Plan B.” Uncle Sam said.
“Plan B?” Patriot’s voice buzzed over the intercom.
“You heard me.” Uncle Sam said.
“You don’t try anything American pigdog!” The gunman said.
“We have a Plan B?” The Eagle asked.
“He picked you as Americans.” Cai added.
“What’s Plan B?” The Eagle asked.
“This.” Uncle Sam said, as the building shook, loud explosions coming from above.
The explosions caused the gunmen to stumble, Uncle Sam and Cai springing into action, as The Eagle stumbled too.
Cai became intangible, and tossed shuriken at his enemies, as their bullets whizzed through his body. Once his shuriken lost contact with his body, they became tangible again, finding themselves embedded in the enemy gunmen.
Uncle Sam roundhouse kicked the nearest gunman, extending his staff at the same time, in one fluid motion. He began dropping enemies left and right, cracking skulls and busting kneecaps.
“Splinter, what happened to no powers?” The Eagle asked.
“They know we’re American. No need for cover.” Sam replied, dropping another gunman.
“Oh.” The American Eagle said, before swiping his arm through the air in a backhand motion. Three balls of energy flew from his hand and exploded on impact, taking down the remaining guards.
“Ok, we need to find that computer before backup gets here.” Uncle Sam said.
“They shouldn’t be far off.” The Eagle replied, flying down the corridor ahead, Uncle Sam and Cai running close behind.
“You would think that the corridor would lead to the centre of this whole operation, right?” The Eagle asked.
“I certainly hope so.” Uncle Sam said. “Blow the door!”
The Eagle didn’t have to be told twice, bombarding the door with his explosive power, blowing it back off its hinges.
Even the seasoned veterans stopped dead in their tracks when they saw what was inside.
Huge glass tubes stood in lines all through the huge room. Within each was a human body, all in various stages of development, from all races, male and female. They floated in the middle, various tubes and wires protruding from their bodies.
“What the hell?” The Eagle asked.
“… Are they growing people inside these tubes?” Uncle Sam asked.
“They’re building soldiers.” Cai said.
“What?” The Eagle asked.
“The ultimate weapons. Super-powered soldiers. Clones, altered humans, whatever they’re doing here.” Cai said, a look of disgust on his face.
“Persons of Mass Destruction.” Uncle Sam muttered.
“Your grandfathers found me in a lab in Vietnam. Nothing on this scale, and the technology has advanced, but I was born the same way.” Cai said.
“What should we do?” The Eagle asked.
“Shut it down.” Uncle Sam ordered.
“And kill hundreds of innocents?” A voice asked from a catwalk above.
The team looked up and saw a small man, wearing a labcoat. “I wouldn’t think that would be your style Uncle Sam.”
“What right do you have to play god?” Uncle Sam asked, spitting the words.
“I believe you would call this the pot calling the kettle black in America.” The scientist laughed. “Two of you are the descendants of men who were altered in the 1940’s. The original Uncle Sam was created to be the perfect human, the first of hundreds. Project Spartan, I believe it was called, no? And the first American Eagle was also the product of that program, after the foolish Americans lost the secret the first time. And then there’s you Cai…”
“Shut your mouth.” Uncle Sam ordered, as he leapt into the air, kicking off one of the glass tubes and landing on the catwalk.
The Eagle was with him in moments, flying up to block the exit on the opposite side of the scientist.
Cai climbed through the bottom of the catwalk, taking his place right beside the scientist. “You will die for what you have done here.” Cai pulled out a knife.
“Murder in cold blood? My my, you certainly aren’t the heroes they say you are.” The scientist taunted.
“Cai, don’t even think about it. We need him as a prisoner.” Uncle Sam ordered.
“We need the intel. We’ll find their computer, and send that.” Cai said.
“I don’t have time for this.” Uncle Sam pointed his gun at Cai. “I’m sick of your insubordination, sometimes I wonder if you’re even a part of this team.”
“What do you think you can do with that? I’m intangible.” Cai sneered.
“I’m not doing anything.” Sam said, as The Eagle’s energy attack hit Cai, knocking him to the ground, unconscious. The scientist fell to the ground clutching his face and screaming, a puff of smoke rising from beneath his hands.
Uncle Sam grabbed the scientist and pulled him to his feet. The man’s face was a mess of blisters and scars, as he began swearing in Korean.
The lights began flashing, and a siren began sounding, as an announcement blared through the complex.
“My Korean’s a little rusty, but I’m pretty sure that this place is going to blow in like, two minutes.” The Eagle said.
“Patriot, we need a skylight.” Uncle Sam ordered.
“You got it.” Patriot buzzed back. Moments later, there was a series of explosions as the ceiling opened up above them, and The Patriot floated down to meet them.
“Told you you’d need me.” Patriot said, as he scooped up Uncle Sam and the scientist.
“Quiet.” Uncle Sam said, as Patriot rocketed into the air, The American Eagle following from behind as best he could carrying Cai.
They flew until they heard the explosions that sent the facility toppling to the ground. “That’s going to be hard to explain.” The Eagle commented drily.
<><><>
The two men appeared out of thin air, standing atop the still-smouldering ruins of the genetic facility.
“Sir, the SecDef’s men debriefed Uncle Sam and The American Eagle, this place had hundreds of supers growing. It’s worse than we feared.” One of them said.
“They must have had outside help. There is no way that the Koreans have advanced further than I have.” The other said.
“Sir, they have complete government sanction to do whatever they want. We need to be careful with what we do. It’s entirely possible they got ahead of us alone.”
“And with the DNA pool at our fingertips, we should already have an army of our own. I should be unstoppable.”
“Sir, they may have other facilities, it would be foolish of them to put all their eggs in one basket.”
“Their leader is an insane fool. This will be the only facility. I want a team to salvage what they can of this facility. Anything we can use. I want that scientist too. He will do nicely on my new research team.”
“You intend to go through with the relocation then sir?”
“Of course I do. We can push the limits further in Iraq, and experimental subjects will be so much easier to come across.” The man laughed.
“Of course sir.”
“Now take me back to Los Angeles, I have a meeting to attend.” The man’s face began to twist, his nose growing, and his eyebrows becoming bushy, his skin becoming olive and his hair turning black.
“Yes sir.”
“Oh, and Daytripper, I have another mission for you.”
“For Senator Carmichael, or for Giovanni Bianchi?”
“Carmichael. I want the Assembly to stage a breakout.”
“Who? We’ve got no-one in Alcatraz.”
“Not Alcatraz. Guantanamo Bay.”
“We don’t have anyone there either.”
“No we don’t. But there are a lot of powerful people there. Powerful people with a grudge against America.”
“Sir?”
“I need the United States to appear weak. I need that poor excuse for a President to look like an incompetent fool. You’re going to make that happen, understand?” Carmichael/Bianchi asked.
“I think we can arrange something.” Daytripper smiled, as the two disappeared back to the United States.
The Gibbon struggled to keep up with the speeding van below him. Even in peak hour traffic, they were getting away from him. He swung from ledge to streetlight to balcony, sailing over the top of the traffic.
He couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to catch Rama in the act. This was his fourth heist in two weeks, and The Gibbon had been across town each time. Rama had been targeting universities all across New York, stealing hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of technology.
That was how Gibbon knew that Rama would strike NYU’s science labs, and was the only reason he was anywhere near the building when the van came screaming from the freight entrance.
In hot pursuit, Gibbon couldn’t help but wonder what Rama’s motive was. Rama was hardly a scientist, there was no way he could have possibly had a use for the equipment he was taking. He almost definitely didn’t have the connections required to sell the specialised equipment on the black market. That meant someone was hiring him. But who? And why?
The van screeched to a halt, to avoid a collision with a cab. It roared back to life, but had given Gibbon enough time to catch up, as he swung down and landed on top of the fleeing vehicle.
As he clung on for dear life, he hoped that Rama was as dumb as he thought he was, and would just assume he had lost his tail. If not, he was in for one wild ride.
<><><>
Hannah regretted her decision immediately. In the heat of the moment, she had decided to dive out of the path of the oncoming van, instead of simply flying over the top. She could have been perfectly fine, but instead, she had landed flat on her face, grazing skin from her nose, cheek and hands.
Someone was going to pay for that. And she had a good idea of who…
Minutes later, she emerged from the alleyway, clad in her pristine Hyper Girl costume, before using her photon control to launch herself into the air.
It didn’t take her long to find the van in the dense traffic. It had only travelled a few blocks away, and was distinctive, if not for its erratic driving pattern, then for the costumed man hanging onto the top, trying his hardest to not be dislodged.
She raced towards the van, leaving a faint trail of white light in her wake. She caught up within moments, flying alongside it. Closer now, she recognised The Gibbon from his almost-regular appearances in the newspapers and on the television.
“Need a hand?” She shouted over the roar of rushing air.
“It certainly wouldn’t go astray.” The Gibbon replied drily.
“You should probably get off that roof then.” Hyper Girl instructed.
Gibbon merely nodded, before using his augmented strength to launch himself from the roof of the van using only his hands, catching an overhanging streetlight, and swinging around it to stop his momentum.
The moment he was safe, Hyper Girl turned her attention back to the van. Using her powers, she focused a beam of light into a high-powered laser, burning a hole through the van’s front left tyre.
The van began to spin out of control, but Hyper Girl was ready for it, blasting a crater in the bitumen ahead. As the van span, it hit the uneven ground and began to roll over, sliding a few yards on its side, before coming to a complete stop.
Hyper Girl landed on the ground next to The Gibbon. “Hi.” She said.
“Ummm… Hi.” The Gibbon replied, somewhat perplexed.
“I’m Hyper Girl, what’s in the van?”
“I’m The Gibbon, and in that van is Rama, and the science equipment he stole.”
“Rama? Big guy, right? Way strong?”
“That’s the one.”
Before Hyper Girl could ask any more questions, the driver’s side door of the van snapped off its hinges and flew through the air, before Rama squeezed his huge bulk through the opening left behind.
Rama was well over six feet tall, almost bordering seven feet, and was pure muscle from head-to-toe. His most distinguishing feature, however, was not his size, but the full set of horns atop his head, causing him to bear a striking resemblance to a water buffalo.
“I liked that van.” The powerhouse stated simply.
“You should probably have driven it a little more safely then.” Hyper Girl retorted.
“Hyper Girl, right?” Rama asked. “Oh, he’s gonna love this.” He added, when Hyper Girl nodded.
“Who’s gonna love this?” Hyper Girl asked.
“His employer, I assume.” The Gibbon replied.
“That would be correct.”
The heroes spun around to see a man in his fifties, clad in a bright green costume, complete with cape and helmet, floating in the air behind them.
“Radon!” Hyper Girl and Gibbon both exclaimed.
“Of course, I would have liked it more if you hadn’t screwed up the delivery Rama.” Radon continued, almost ignoring the heroes.
“Sorry boss. Can we waste ‘em now?” Rama asked.
“I suppose you can have the monkey. The girl is mine.” Radon said.
“You wish!” Hyper Girl shouted, as she flew high into the air.
“Fleeing is not an option!” Radon replied, following after her.
“I guess that just leaves us, Monkey-Man!” Rama shouted, as he lowered his head for a charge.
Gibbon laughed, as he leapt over the top of his oncoming opponent, sending the villain crashing into a nearby building.
“We’ve fought dozens of times, and that move has only worked twice. I think you need a new opening move.” Gibbon taunted, as Rama climbed out of the twisted wreckage of the doorframe.
“How’s this then?” Rama asked, pulling a gun from his jacket.
“That’s most definitely a new move.” Gibbon said.
<><><>
“Just letting you know,” Hyper Girl dodged the radiation wave Radon had fired at her, “I wasn’t running away, I was just getting you away from the bystanders.” Hyper Girl returned the blast with one of her own.
“Girl, you’re free to believe what you want to believe, but you and I both know that your abilities pale in comparison to mine.” Radon threw up a shield, absorbing her attack.
“I seem to recall you telling me our powers were the same, just different wavelengths.” Hyper Girl flew around behind Radon, blasting at him again.
“You keep using the same tricks girl, you need to expand your arsenal.” Radon surrounded himself with a sphere of energy.
“Says the guy who’s had the same shtick for decades.” Hyper Girl commented drily.
“Silence!” Radon lassoed her with a beam of energy.
Hyper Girl screamed in pain, as the radiation burned at her skin.
“You dare disrespect me!” He pulled the lasso tighter, forcing the heroine to scream louder.
<><><>
The Gibbon somersaulted under Rama’s gunfire, before using his forward momentum to leap at the villain. He sailed through the air feet-first, grabbing Rama’s gun and kicking off the powerhouse’s chest.
“You’re really not very good at this, are you?” The Gibbon asked.
“And what are you going to do with that?” Rama asked.
“What do you think?” Gibbon asked, tossing the gun aside, sending it sliding across the ground and into a stormwater drain.
“That damn thing cost me $1000!” Rama shouted, his face turning red, and nostrils flaring.
“You probably should have taken better care of it then. It’s just not your day, is it?” Gibbon asked.
“You’ll pay for that.” Rama said, advancing on The Gibbon.
Hyper Girl’s piercing screams cut through the air from above.
“No I won’t.” The Gibbon replied, scaling the side of a building, moving far out of his enemy’s reach.
He kept climbing, it was what he did best. Ever since he woke up in that lab, his body augmented to resemble that of an ape, elongated arms, stronger muscles and modified joints. He was perfectly suited to scaling the urban jungle.
Once he had reached the appropriate height, he leaped from the building and tackled Hyper Girl, pulling her out of the grasp of Radon’s binding, and sending them both crashing into the next building. Clutching the teenager under one arm, he used his free hand and feet to scale the rest of the building.
“Crap, they’ll get away.” Hyper Girl groaned.
“Considering the alternative, I’m glad I saved you instead.” Gibbon replied.
“I’ll be fine. Lets go.” Hyper Girl stood up and jumped off the building, floating in midair.
“They’re gone, aren’t they?” Gibbon asked, as he climbed up on the ledge to see for himself.
“Yeah. Looks like it.” Hyper Girl said, before cursing.
“Don’t sweat it. They’re stockpiling gear, they’ll show up again.” Gibbon said.
“Knowing Radon, it’s something to make him more powerful. He likes amplifying his own abilities.” Hyper Girl said.
“So he’ll reveal his hand soon. Try to conquer the city, no doubt.”
“Hope you didn’t have any plans for this week, looks like we’re going to have to be on alert.”
“Waiting for Radon and Rama sounds a lot better than TV Dinners and Seinfeld reruns.”
<><><>
“And if you do not grant me sole rulership of the island of Manhattan before noon, I will destroy one skyscraper per hour until you do!” Radon announced from the top of the building, live on six networks.
Hannah jumped from her spot on the couch. “Got you, you bastard.”
<><><>
“They’ve got ten more minutes.” Rama looked at his watch.
“Calm down. We need to give them time. The deadline is just to make them hurry.” Radon explained.
“Are you sure this doohickey will work?” Rama cocked his head towards the large piece of machinery that dominated much of the rooftop.
“Of course I’m sure. I just aim this at my target, and focus my powers here.” Radon explained.
“I get how it works, I just want to know if it actually does work.” Rama asked.
“I doubt you really understand the inner workings of my masterpiece.” Radon said.
“I don’t really think he has to.” The Gibbon swung up to the top of the building. “You’re not going to get the chance to use it.”
“Must you heroes always interfere?” Radon asked, blasting at The Gibbon, a hint of exasperation in his voice.
“It’s kind of our thing.” Hyper Girl said, as she deflected Radon’s blast with one of her own.
“Both of you again?” Radon shouted. “Fine, you will be our example!”
Radon’s power amplifier spun, pointing itself directly at Hyper Girl.
“Oh, that can’t be good.” Hyper Girl said.
Radon began cackling, as he fed energy into his amplifier, which fired at Hyper Girl, the teen hero barely ducking out of the way, as she felt the air sizzle around her.
She didn’t have time to taunt her opponent, as he adjusted the amplifier, pointing it at Hyper Girl’s new position. Hyper Girl flew out of the way before he could fire, forcing the shot to go wild. The villain began firing wildly, blasting at Hyper Girl over and over again.
The Gibbon watched helplessly from the ground, unsure of what to do. His back exploded with pain, as Rama drove his head into his back. “I guess that makes three times that move has worked.” Rama taunted, as he stood over Gibbon’s prone form.
“And that makes it about a hundred times that this move has worked.” Gibbon replied, kicking Rama’s legs out from under him, sending his bulk crashing to the ground.
Gibbon formulated his plan, and moved into position. Rama got to his feet, enraged.
“Now what are you going to do?” Gibbon taunted.
Rama lowered his head and charged.
“Oh, how predictable.” Gibbon yawned, before leaping over the top of Rama.
Rama realised what he was doing, and tried to stop, but it was too late. He charged directly into the amplifying machine. He was instantly showered in sparks, as the machine began spluttering and smoking.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Radon shouted, as his energy blasts suddenly had a backlash from the damaged amplifier, causing Radon to be hit by his own attack, rendering him unconscious.
Hyper Girl floated back down to the rooftop. “Wow. That was easy.”
“Yeah, Rama’s not too bright. I’m glad you’re faster than Radon is, otherwise you’d be vapour.” Gibbon said.
“I’m glad too.” Hyper Girl said. “This was fun. We should do it again some time.”
“I’m sure we’ll run into each other again sometime, this is New York after all.”
“Can’t wait.”
<><><>
Friday, 11.32 PM
Downtown Los Angeles
I watched from my perch as the crowd thinned out below me. The Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra’s performance of Mozart’s 38th Symphony looked like it had been a success. The patrons leaving the Music Center all looked quite happy.
But I wasn’t interested in them. The rich. The art lovers. The posers. None of them was worth more than a passing glance.
Except one.
Dean Mitchell was one of the last people out of the door, flanked by two men in suits. Bodyguards, of course. What kind of person has bodyguards at the symphony? A person with enemies. And who has more enemies than a drug lord? Besides a superhero, of course.
I trailed him as he walked down the street, running along the rooftop. I saw him reach for his cellphone, calling his chauffer, no doubt. That meant I had a limited window.
I sprang from the roof, and tackled the closest guard to the ground, before clubbing him across the head, knocking him unconscious. I was back on my feet in a moment, sweeping the second bodyguard’s leg and driving his head into the concrete.
I grabbed Mitchell and dragged him behind the building. I grabbed him and pushed him up against the wall. He started laughing.
“I wondered when I’d run into you.” He said, still laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, shoving him harder.
“Let me guess, you think that you can stop me?” He asked. Cocky bastard. All of twenty-five years old, thinks that being born rich makes him better than everyone else.
“You won’t be the first drug dealer I’ve taken down.” I replied.
“I have an edge on all those street-level pushers.” Mitchell said. It was more than just arrogance now. It was confidence. I paused for a moment, felt the doubt seeping in. What was he talking about? Did he just mean his money? His influence? Or was it something else? What if he had powers? What if he was stronger than I am? What if I couldn’t fight him.
“You feel it, don’t you?” He asked. He must have seen it in my face. “You’re doubting yourself, aren’t you?”
I shook my head, but I knew he could still see it. I could feel it. The fear creeping in. I couldn’t beat him. There was no way. He was unstoppable.
“Now let go of me.” He commanded.
I bowed my head and took a step back, Mitchell sneered at me.
“Grab him. The Shadow is coming for a ride with us.” He said.
I felt two sets of hands grab me around the arms. Big hands. Of course. These were his real bodyguards. Rock Steady Inc. I should have known. I was doomed.
They tossed me into the back of a limousine, where I curled up on the floor. The sense of fear and doubt was gradually being replaced by despair. I was going to die here tonight.
“Now, as you’ve no doubt realised, I’m a super.” Mitchell gloated. “That feeling in the pit of your stomach? Your sense of impending doom that has replaced your bravado? That was me.”
I stared up at him in terror, and he laughed again. I was getting tired of that laugh.
“I was a little younger than you when I discovered it. I was in high school, and I had been rejected by a girl for the first time. But nobody rejects Dean Mitchell. It was like the universe was aligning for me. My superpowers manifested that day. I could control peoples’ emotions. My life was easy before, but it got a lot easier. Everything I wanted, everything I needed, it was all mine for the taking.”
It all came together then. Pheromone control. Ben had told me one of the Hire A Hero kids had a power like it. I understood, but there was nothing I could do. He still had a hold on me.
“But I got bored. One can only have everything handed to them for so long. I needed something new. So I talked to a friend, who knew a guy who sold half of Hollywood their cocaine. I bought him out. His clients, his supply, everything. Cost me half my stock portfolio. I made it back in a month.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked.
“Because I want you to understand just how much trouble you’re in. I want you to understand who I am. I want you to know the man that will finally end you.” Mitchell kicked at me and I flinched. There was that laugh again. “The unbeatable Shadow. You’ve got half of my dealers scared to leave their houses, you know that? The scum of this city quiver at the mere mention of your name. And here you are, lying at my feet. Like a dog.”
I felt the anger surge through my body. He was going to pay for that. I was going to take him down. I wasn’t just going to mess him up, I couldn’t just scare him. I had to get him put into Alcatraz. I had to make sure he paid for what he had done. Not just to me, to this city.
And that was when I noticed it. The fear was gone. I wasn’t crippled by despair. I was free.
“You won’t get away with it. It will all catch up to you.” I said.
“And how will that happen? I’ve got half the LAPD on my payroll, there is no paper trail, I’ve got it all funnelled out into other interests, and even if some idiot cop caught me, I’ve got my powers to send him on his merry way. I am unstoppable.”
He started laughing again. That was it. I lunged at him, but the Rock Steady guys restrained me.
“Oh, you’ve got some fight left in you, do you?” Mitchell asked. “I guess you need a stronger dose.”
I could feel the emotions fighting for control. The sadness, the fear and the doubt. All of it came rushing back. But only for a moment. My healing powers were counteracting it. It was like a virus, or an allergy. Looks like Mitchell was beatable afterall.
Now it was my turn to laugh. I’ll never forget the look on his face. That moment of doubt. Fear. For a few seconds, he knew what he’d done to me. That was all I needed for now.
I slipped free from the grip of the guards, and dove through the window. I rolled across two lanes of traffic, sprang to my feet, and ran as fast as I could.
Saturday, 12.53 AM
Miracle Mile
I dialled O’Hara’s number. Got the machine. No shock there. I left him a message. I told him that Mitchell was behind the drugs market in Los Angeles. I told him about his powers, and everything else he had said. I told him that I was immune.
I didn’t know what good it would do, but I knew I needed someone else working on this. Someone on the right side of the law. I knew I couldn’t take him down alone.
Thursday, 10.23PM
Eastside, Long Beach
I could feel the guy’s collarbone cracking, as I thrust my palm directly into his chest. He let out a cry as I followed it up with a chop across the back of his neck, rendering him unconscious.
I bound his hands together with some cable ties I’d found behind the restaurant, didn’t want him to be a problem if he woke up.
I dragged him back towards the red El Camino his accomplice had arrived in, and tossed him in the back. His accomplice stirred a little when he landed on top of him, but he didn’t wake up. Good, I wasn’t ready for it yet.
I headed back to my latest victim’s car, a black Ford of some description, and pop the trunk.
Jackpot. Two big bags of what I can only assume was cocaine. At least twenty pounds each. There was no way he got these past customs without someone on the inside.
I close the trunk, and head back to the El Camino. I was lucky to have this lead. A dealer had spilled last week that this was where the drug mules met the distributors. The drugs came up from Mexico, reached this restaurant car park, where the mules dropped them off, got their cash, and went home. That was all the guy was willing to tell me, he said he only knew because he was the mule some weeks. I dropped him off outside a police station, not sure what happened after that, but I couldn’t have him telling anyone he snitched.
He also told me about the guy in the El Camino, which made my job a lot easier. I got the drop on him pretty quickly, just calmly reached into his car, pulled him out, and shut the door on his head a few times. I tied him up and tossed him in the back. It was dark enough that nobody would see him laying there.
But I needed him awake, so I started slapping him. He came to pretty quickly, but he was already stirring, so that wasn’t surprising. He tried to cry out, but a stiff backhand put a stop to that.
It didn’t take long for him to spill, he told me that his boss had paid off one of the customs guards, one Greg Atkins. He also told me the address of the place he took the drugs, over in West Torrance, and also where the mules obtained them. All in all, it was a productive night.
And it wasn’t over yet. Somehow I’d missed the sound of the approaching car. I was too busy listening to what the guy had to say. It wasn’t until the lights flashed that I noticed the black Chrysler pulling up behind me.
I was on my feet, with my guns out, pointed at the driver’s seat within seconds. The door opened slowly, the driver had his hands up, they were empty. He stood up, and it became clear to me that it was Officer O’Hara.
He told me that he’d been promoted to Detective, and that he’d been tracking these guys for weeks. I told him what they’d told me, the name of the customs guy, the source of the drugs, and where they were going. He thanked me, before handing me a business card. In case I needed to contact him, for anything. I thanked him, and told him to give me a head start before he called in guys to the place in West Torrance. He told me he wouldn’t get a warrant for days anyway, and to be careful. Like I need to be careful.
Thursday, 11.51 PM
West Torrance
I scoped out the house. No lights on inside, but that didn’t mean a thing. There was still movement in the windows. They must be have been getting edgy by then. Their delivery hadn’t arrived.
I counted at least five guys inside; it was hard to tell with all the shadows. Maybe more. I ducked behind a neighbour’s fence and used it to hide my approach. I reached the backyard and climbed over, landing softly on the ground. No movement inside, they didn’t see me. Good. Makes my job a lot easier.
I crouched low and ran towards the house, using the darkness to my advantage.
I stopped dead when I saw the porch light. Motion sensor mounted. Lucky for me, it was a cheap one with a short range. Unlucky for me, it was at that point that the guards decided it was time for a cigarette break and stepped out onto the back porch, triggering the light.
I stared at the two big men, and they stared right back in disbelief. They dropped their cigarettes, and I stood up, no point crouching now. We stared at each other in silence for a few seconds longer, before one of the guards shouted.
The two on the porch charged me straight away, I managed to duck under the first one, but the second caught me with a wild blow. I actually felt my cheekbone crack, and my teeth loosen.
Dazed momentarily by the blow, I was a sitting duck, as the first guy lifted me up over his head and tossed me all the way to the house, at least ten yards away. It was around that time that I decided these weren’t ordinary guards. They had to be Rock Steady Inc., otherwise there was no way they could do that much damage, or throw me that far. That was a game-changer.
I pulled my guns and opened fire, unloading a full magazine into each of the men’s abdomens, but they just laughed. I heard something behind me, and just managed to commando-roll to the side, as two more Rock Steady guys stepped onto the porch and opened fire at me. The bullets rained down, from an automatic of some kind, I hazarded a look over my shoulder and saw they both held submachine guns, probably Uzis, but I couldn’t tell from there.
I ducked around the side of the house, changing out my magazines, before crouching behind an air-conditioning unit. As I waited for my adversaries to come around the corner, I began formulating a plan.
The first appeared in plain sight, and I sprang into action. A little fancy shooting and I had hit him in a weak point, his ankles. Still, it took two shots to each ankle to drop him, and now I didn’t have a clear shot at whoever followed him. The second guy got what was left in my guns, and as luck would have it, he was one of the guys I had already shot. The combined blood loss was enough to drop him too.
I only had a few seconds; I darted forward and snatched up both of the fallen men’s guns. I charged around the corner and opened fire on their buddies, who were on their way over to deal with me. But they had brought friends. Turns out I had misjudged the number of people inside, because there were six guys all pointing their guns at me.
I charged across the yard, unloading a clip into the nearest Rock Steady guy, and followed it up with a clip to the guy next to him. They both dropped. I dove for them, somersaulted between them as I grabbed their guns, and dropped the next two, as I took a shot in my leg and another in my shoulder.
I dropped the Uzis and charged forward to meet the next thug. I leaped at him, taking him high in the chest. He staggered back from the shock of the attack, and tripped up the porch step. I rolled through, as my shoulder knitted itself back together, and kipped up to my feet. A few well placed boots to the temple, and it was down to me and the final guard.
Unluckily for me, he had a clear shot, and I now have a clear knowledge of exactly what it feels like to take eight shots to the chest and abdomen.
Friday, 5.12 AM
I came to inside the house. Inside what appeared to be a garbage bag. Because I love waking up in the trash.
I overheard two guys yelling about the missing shipment, about how I must have had something to do with it. Apparently I was a big problem for them, a guy on the next block had called the cops, who had started patrolling the streets and asking questions. The houses on either side were apparently abandoned, and the owners of the house behind were on vacation, so there were no witnesses.
One of the voices, the guy who hired the guards from the sound of it, kept worrying about what Mr Mitchell was going to do to him. The entire operation was in jeopardy, and as soon as Mr Mitchell found out, he was going to be dead. The other voice, the one remaining guard, I assumed, told him that little Deano was the least of his worries, if his boss came after him, for getting seven of his men put in hospital, then he would be worse than dead.
It was at that point that I put two-and-two together. Mr Mitchell. Little Deano. Dean Mitchell. Youngest son of Franklin Mitchell, the billionaire developer. That was who was in charge of the drug trade in this city. That was who was to blame.
I had to make a break for it, and I did, bursting free of the garbage bag and charging through the nearest window into the night, leaving my captors agape.
I sprinted into the night, my body racked with pain as it continued to heal the bullet wounds. I just kept running, and running. I had to get away.
I had to take Dean Mitchell down. Finally I had a name and a face to put on my crusade, and there was nothing I wouldn’t do to punish him for what he’s done.
Is it sad that I’m a huge fan of my own characters? Not all of them, just a few. People I’ve created, I enjoy writing for, and I know that if someone else had invented them, I would read that too.
She started out as a basic idea. I was trying to flesh out the Silver Age in the <3-Verse, beyond the Golden-Age legacies, and created The Blackbird (mentioned in an old issue of Brat Pack, and again in Return of a Hero). Then I realised that I didn’t have any kid sidekicks anywhere in the <3-Verse. So I created this teenager that got saved by the Blackbird in the 80’s, who decided to follow in his footsteps. She created her own costume, and called herself The Magpie (because Australian magpies are black and white, and she was a white girl in a black costume, whereas the Blackbird was a black guy in a black costume). Blackbird didn’t want a sidekick, but she just wouldn’t relent, so he decided she’d be better off with his training than without it. She joined the Boomers, and basically grew up with the team. When she turned 20, she decided that being a sidekick was for kids, and changed her name to Talon. At 22, she moved to New York and formed the East Coast Boomers. 21 years later, and she’s still in the game, only taking two hiatuses, one could be considered maternity leave, and the other… Well, you know all about that now, don’t you?
Basically, she’s a badass. I like that. And a grown-up sidekick, which I really like the concept of (I’m a huge Winter Soldier fan 
). She sits up there with Mr Universe, Uncle Sam and The Shadow as my favourite <3-Verse characters that I’ve written for… So far. Stick around, because the next issue of <3C Presents will be the new Shadows Over LA (it was going to be this month’s, but I read my SOLA schedule wrong (the end of this arc needs to be at around a particular time, because it leads into some stuff with the Brats). Anyway, suffice to say, there will be a new issue of SOLA soon. Now, back to the assignment I was doing before I realised I hadn’t posted Author’s Notes yet. Hooray for procrastination!
Later Days
The Author
<3 Comics
I had one shot. One chance to prove to myself that I still had what it took. One opportunity to put it all behind me.
Naturally I took it. Sure, Cam had offered me a spot on the team. Sure, I could go back to active duty. I’d passed all of the tests. I was faster and stronger than before. But those tests weren’t under fire. I couldn’t know for sure how I would function in the heat of battle. I couldn’t risk their lives like that.
So there I was. Back in my city. New York, New York. It’s a hell of a town.
But not for long.
Because Talon’s back.
<><><>
The pain was unbearable. It was a constant searing agony. I could feel the air on the space where my shoulder joint had once been, and it hurt. I could smell nothing but my own blood. I was numb from the waist down, which was probably for the best. My leg was gone too. Torn off, just like my arm.
By a dragon of all things. A dragon!
My arm and leg had gone the same way as my team-mates before it. Minerva, my sister, in spirit if not in blood, and my brothers Pike and Blowout. All dead, and I knew I was going to follow them soon. I could feel the lifeblood draining away.
Then the girl, Iaso, from Hire-A-Hero, healed me. She stopped the bleeding, sealed the wounds, and erased my pain.
My physical pain at least.
<><><>
The first person at my bedside had been Cam. GL, the leader of the West Coast Boomers. I guess it’s just ‘The Boomers’ now. He offered support, financially and emotionally. We’d been good friends for years, but I longed for Minerva.
Next was my adopted father, Ralph Davis. The Blackbird. My mentor. He was emotional. He told me he was just glad to have me back, and how proud he was of everything I had done with my life. Like it was over. I know he didn’t mean it, but he put me in a dark place.
The next day, my husband Dan arrived, with my daughter, Cheryl, which helped. Gave me hope.
Over the next week, a multitude of heroes passed through my hospital ward. A veritable who’s who. Miss Liberty, both Uncle Sams, the second American Eagle, Statuesque, even Thunderbolt stopped in on his way to Paraguay.
But one man changed my life. Don Harris. Formerly known as Junker. Probably the finest mind in cybernetic enhancements, he had fought crime for decades, and led the West Coast Boomers for a decade, wearing a powered armour he built himself. He retired from the hero game last year, and took a job working for the government, designing a new version of the ‘Patriot’ Armour. His prototype was in the testing phase at that point, and he had some spare time on his hands. So he offered to help me out.
He might have retired from the superhero game, but he still found a way to save me.
<><><>
Months of recovery, two major surgeries and a painful rehabilitation, and worth every minute of it.
I stood. On my own two feet. I clenched my own two fists.
“Careful Maggie, you’ve got to get used to them. You’re stronger now.” Don’s voice buzzed over the intercom.
I was standing in the Boom Room, the West Coast Boomer’s training facility. Three feet of concrete protected the outside world from what usually went on here.
“Got it Don.” I said, before gingerly taking a step. The leg held. I smiled. Confident now, I took a few more steps. So long as I remembered to step lightly with my new leg, everything was completely fine.
“Good work Maggie, but don’t get too confident. Baby steps.” Don buzzed.
I ignored him. I could walk again! I started off at a trot.
“Maggie. Careful. It’s your first day.” Don warned.
“I’m fine!” I shouted, breaking into a run. It was easy.
“Maggie, what do you think you’re doing?” Don yelled back.
“Watch and learn!” I laughed, as I leapt towards a set of uneven bars. At least, that was my intention.
For a regular person, jumping is easy. Your legs both take the weight of your whole body, and pushes you up in one go.
When one leg is more than five times the strength of the other, however, things are a little more difficult…
I tumbled sideways, my left leg was far too powerful, and my jump was terribly unbalanced. Easy fix, I’d just vault back up with my hands, as soon as I hit the ground. Remembering to compensate this time…
I didn’t compensate enough, and next thing I knew, I was laying flat on my back.
“I’d hate to say ‘I told you so’ Maggie, but…”
“I know, I know. Take it slow.”
<><><>
It took weeks to get used to the difference in strength in my new right arm, and left leg, but I was finally ready.
I wasn’t as fit as I had been, but I was close. A few more weeks in the gym, and I would be as good as new. In the mean time, I had to make sure I still had the skills to be a hero.
So there I was, standing atop the Empire State Building, looking down upon my city. A flash of red and blue was all I needed to see, as I leapt southwards, towards the source of the police lights. Positioning my body to allow my left leg to be the central force behind my jump had become second nature, as I did a somersault in the air, before activating the intelli-sensors in my glove.
My cape became rigid, as the edges hardened and spread out, like wings. I dove towards the flashing lights, and as I got closer, I found a police chase in progress. Perfect.
I sailed over the top of the traffic, over the police car, and on top of their target.
The car swerved, the driver had no idea what was going on. Just in time, I spotted the gun pointed at me from within the car, and I turned, taking the clip he unloaded with my right arm, sending the bullets ricocheting in all directions. I grabbed the man’s arm, and started to lift him out the window, the car swerving to-and-fro beneath me. How I had missed this.
I had the man’s head and shoulders outside the car. He could see me. His face was obscured by a ski mask, but I could see his eyes, as the realisation dawned, and the fear began enveloping him. I could see his mouth, as he shouted “HOLY SH*T! IT’S TALON!”.
I laughed, and dropped him back into the car. I looked around for a moment. The traffic had thinned. I could act safely now.
I activated a second intelli-sensor, and the winch attached to my belt whirred to life. I grabbed the end of the 300 feet of carbon-fibre cable, and pinned it to the roof of the car with a shuriken. I leapt off the roof of the car, activating my cape’s glider mode once more, parasailing from the roof of the car.
I pressed a button on my new arm, and a compartment opened. I pulled a box of caltrops from my belt, and loaded them in.
“Let’s see how you drive without tyres.” I laughed, as I fired the caltrops onto the road ahead.
Moments later, I heard the satisfying pop of tyres, followed by the screech of brakes, as the crooks struggled to control the car. Moments later was the crash, as they hit a fire hydrant, and came to a sudden stop.
I switched on the winch, and pulled myself back down to the car, disengaging when I was a safe distance from the ground, and landing with a flourish, as the police arrived.
“Talon… Is that you?” One of the policemen asked.
“You bet it is.” I replied.
“Oh my god, is it good to have you back ma’am.” A second said.
“Thank you.” I smiled.
They were right.
Talon was back.
One good thing about writing Shadows Over LA is: I don’t need a title for them all.
Still getting a grip on the character, and the noir/pulp-ish style I’m going for.
Just a short issue, covers some of Shadow’s background, and adds to the next story arc.
Not really much to say otherwise. Hang tight, there will be another issue of Shadows within the next month or so.
Later Days,
The Author
<3 Comics
Sunday, 4.38 AM
King Estates
It had been a long night. Another false lead had resulted in a dead end.
I had been tracing the source of drugs in the city, after that night in Glendora months ago. A drugs lab that size doesn’t spring up overnight. The security on that place alone meant money. Big money.
My solution was simple. Find the source of the money, and the drug trade stops. Simple.
Ok, I knew it wasn’t that simple. I’m not that naive. Stop one source, and another takes over. We took out that drug lab, and the dealers just brought their prices up to compensate. The drugs were still coming in.
I thought I’d found the source tonight. Little house in East LA somewhere. It was a set-up. About a dozen gang-bangers were waiting for me. An easy enough fight, or it would have been. Half an hour earlier, someone had seen guys with guns walking around the house, and called the cops. So about two minutes after the fight started, we heard sirens.
A pair of cops busted in, one of them was that cop from Glendora, O’Hara. The gangbangers opened fire on them, so I had to tackle them both down. I finished the fight, eventually. Worrying about three people is a lot harder than just worrying about yourself.
As soon as the fight was over, the second cop, I don’t remember his name, got up and pointed his gun at me. Told me I was under arrest. O’Hara told him he was a dumbass, and smacked him on the back of the head. I like O’Hara.
I got the hell out of there and headed home. I changed out of my costume, wrote in my notebook, and went to bed.
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Sunday, 10.30 AM
I hated my alarm. Hated it with every fibre of my being. It meant another day at that damn store. Working for that idiot. Wasting time I could be using productively. Every hour I spent there, I was off the streets. Every minute I swept that floor, there was an assault of some kind going on in the city. Every second I stocked those shelves, someone was committing a crime.
But I needed the money. We needed the money. Me and my mom, that is.
My dad left when I was about five. My older brother Ricky died when I was twelve. Since then, mom’s been the only family I’ve got.
She works too, of course. Cleaning at one of the motels downtown. Makes more money than I do, that’s for sure. But every dollar helps.
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My mother is the strongest person I know. Her husband leaves her; she just goes out and gets a job. Us boys were all she was worried about. Her eldest son gets involved in a street gang; she smacked him upside the head, and told him to stop running with them. Every day. Nothing was more important than her boys’ lives. Her eldest son gets gunned down in the street, by a rival gang; she makes sure her remaining son doesn’t make the same mistakes. She raised me right.
Ricky was the reason I learned kung fu down at the Y’. I didn’t want to become a victim. I wanted to be a fighter. I got older, and I decided I wanted to do more than survive. I was strong. I was capable. I had the responsibility to my fellow man. I had the ability to clean up the city. Make it a safer place for other kids’ older brothers. Make it a safe place for my mom.
So I dressed up in black, covered my face with a bandanna, and went out into the night. Got shot in the face by some punk holding up a convenience store. Woke up in a dumpster two days later, fully healed. I freaked out. I was a mutant. I should have been dead. But there I was, underneath someone’s garbage.
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Sunday, 12.28 PM
I pedalled like crazy. I was going to be late. Of course. Mr McGee was going to kill me.
Mr McGee hated me, just like he hated Ricky. Ricky had worked at the store for a few months before he dies, Mr McGee was convinced he was stealing. He probably was, knowing Ricky. So Mr McGee loves it when I make a mistake. Punishes me, because he couldn’t punish Ricky then.
I got to the store just in time. McGee told me off anyway. I flipped him off when he turned away.
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I crawled out of the dumpster. I was about a block away from the convenience store.
As I dusted myself off, I heard someone coming. I didn’t think, I just reacted. Jumped up, vaulted off the dumpster, kicked off the wall, and onto the fire exit. Just in time.
Two guys walked into the alleyway. I recognised them pretty quickly as the guys from the convenience store. The guy that had shot me started freaking out. The dumpster was open. What if someone had found the body. When he looked inside, and found I wasn’t in there, he flipped out completely.
His troubles were only beginning.
I leapt off the fire exit, and slammed the dumpster’s lid down on his head. His friend took one look at me, and stammered something about me being dead.
I said something about never dying, sounded pretty cool at the time. Can’t remember the details.
I pulled the other guy out of the dumpster. He was unconscious. Lucky for him. Told his buddy to drag him away, and if I ever caught them doing anything illegal, I was coming to get them. The message seemed to get through, as the guy ran as fast as he could, dragging his buddy along the ground behind him.
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Sunday, 8.21 PM
I walked into the house. My mom had been home for hours. We make small talk about work. The usual.
Things have been a little strained since I became ‘The Shadow’. She doesn’t know, of course. She thinks I’ve joined a gang. We tend to fight a lot about it. I deny it, of course. But when I don’t provide a reason I’m always sneaking out, and why I disappear for days at a time.
She’d probably flip out even worse if she found out what I was really doing though. Guess it’s better this way. I just wish she’d stop looking at me like that.
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Sunday, 11.53 PM
I pulled my mask over my face, and pulled on my gloves. Tonight was going to be a productive night, I could feel it. I had one last lead, and I was going to make this one count.
Can we tell I get all my British slang from old comedies and the internet? We don’t get a lot of good modern English TV around here, so I’m forced to watch the old classics. I did just (finally) finish reading Neil Gaiman’s Sandman, which has a fair few English characters (seeing as Gaiman is English, it’s understandable), and have now moved onto Delano’s Hellblazer, so hopefully I’ll improve before I write for Perdition again.
Perdition had a brief cameo in an early issue of Brat Pack, but even then I had a full character write-up for him. In the attempt to fill the gap left in the ranks of solo heroes, I decided I needed an anti-hero (because the Shadow isn’t enough…) I had every intention of fleshing him out eventually. This is the first step in that respect. I hope.
Also, the villains in this issue were chosen mostly for the opportunity to write one simple line. ‘[Vampires] Don’t. Fookin’. SPARKLE!’ … Yeah, I don’t like Twilight. Lets leave it at that. Ok, I’ll admit, I had a brief outline for the story in my head, and decided that I’d slip that in, and all of a sudden that idea seemed to be the one to go with.
Also, thanks for the comment Jenna, good to know someone’s still reading.
Later Days,
The Author
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