Control stopped at the table in the center and directly in front of the giant screen. She grabbed a mouse and started tapping, starting by clicking on a button under the word “Status,” changing it from green to red.
Imdiately a text ssage started appearing on another part of her monitor.
It said, “Accelerando: How bad is the red?”
Control shook her head. “I wish she’d give a second…”
Control typed, “Extradinsional particles. Protocol puts them at red, but we’re still waiting on information.”
Another text ssage appeared as she typed, “Rocket: Investigating.”
“Good,” Control muttered. “He’s paying attention.”
The words “Calls from:” appeared on the screen followed by the words, “Night Cat, Night Wolf, Ghost, Captain Commando, Gravity Star, Railgun.”
Control groaned. “Just give a second.”
Ignoring them, she opened up an empty ssage window, addressing it to “All.”
Even as she typed the words, “Extradinsional particles detected. No contact. Await action.”
More nas appeared as many of the first group flickered out—Blue, Paladin, The Rhino, C, Brawn, Midwest Defenders: Guardian, Midwest Defenders: Mindstryke, FBI: Superhuman Affairs Branch…
Control looked up at the nas, and groaned, followed by a nervous giggle. “I don’t suppose you’d like to handle phones?”
Giving a sidelong glance, she said, “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. They’d kill . Well, not really, but they’d be mad.”
tallic clunking noises ca from my left, followed by a screech as the tal door that went from the floor to the ceiling of the wall there opened.
Another figure in a gray Heroes’ League uniform ran out of the opening. It wasn’t completely open, but through it anyone could have seen a long room filled with clutter and so of the most iconic vehicles of the late twentieth century—the all black Wolfmobile, Captain Commando’s red, white and blue motorcycle, and the silvery gray Heroes’ League jet.
Distracted by what I’d seen, I didn’t notice that the new person had co to a stop next to the table. Slightly taller than the Rocket, his mask covered all of his face except the mouth, and his short, straw-colored hair.
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Ignoring , he said, “Do you need to suit up?”
From his voice, I guessed that he might still be in high school.
Control shook her head. “Not yet. We still don’t even know if anything ca through.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“The Rocket’s looking into it,” Control said, “but if you’re not done with vehicle maintenance, you might want to finish.”
“I’m done,” he said, “but I’ll go prep our suits and the particle accelerator rifles in case this gets bad.”
“I’m writing an article about the Heroes’ League,” I said. “What should I call you, and how long have you been with the League?”
He held up his hands between us in a gesture that said, “Stop.”
“Sorry, ma’am. I’m not talking. If you have to call sothing, call Two, but better yet, leave out of the article.” Then he turned and ran back to the hangar.
“Two?” Control shook her head. “I guess what we called him last ti was too obvious.”
“Ma’am?” That took back, but he’d probably said it because he thought I was old. I'm thirty-two.
Wide-eyed, Control watched him go. “Sorry, I’m sure he was just trying to be respectful before um… being rude. That’s a hazard with techies. They’re just not people people. I know four of them now. The Rhino’s the best with people, and that’s no surprise since he’s um… older.”
I felt sure older wasn’t what she’d been about to say, and I intended to follow up on it, but a door slamd. I turned to see the Rocket crossing the basketball court sized room in the odd gait common to the super strong that's half run and half a series of jumps.
I’d seen footage of the Rocket’s black, cloth costu. That’s what he wore then, and he crossed the floor in steps that weren’t any shorter than ten feet long.
It wouldn’t be accurate to call him elegant, but each foot landed and pushed off with perfect timing. By all accounts, the Rocket has no powers, but he’s in complete control of whatever technology runs his suit.
The Mystic flew above him. They landed next to the table at the sa ti.
The Rocket didn’t say anything. He stepped in front of a computer terminal and started typing.
The Mystic smiled at , reminding of why his face appeared on so many online magazines aid at teenage girls. His mask hid the upper half of his face, but what they could see must have been enough.
He turned to . “We’d intended to have the Rocket give you a tour of HQ, but it looks like circumstances have changed. We can call in so favors and get you teleported out. If you want to stay, I should let you know that our enemies have made it into HQ before. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s often enough.”
I nodded and smiled. That wasn’t the first ti I’d heard that speech or a variation on it when things got rough. It was kind of them, if self-serving, but I couldn’t fault them trying to make their jobs less complicated.
I t his eyes. “You won’t have to protect . I can handle myself. I served in a powered unit in the Army Airborne.”
The Mystic turned to the others. “She’s telling the truth.”
Ignoring him, the Rocket tapped on his keyboard. “The spybots are in place and we’ve got a picture. I’m sending it to the big screen.”
Numbers disappeared from the giant TV screen, replaced by old brick buildings and a downtown alley. A rectangular gateway glowed in the alley’s shade. Things walked out of the gateway. Covered in brown feathers, they wore bulky clothes that made think of combat gear.
The rifles in their talons couldn’t have been mistaken for anything else.
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