Kyle glanced over at the clock and muttered a curse. Ten minutes until the special Vanguard briefing Scion had called, and he was still in his bathrobe. He shut down the laptop he was hunched over and straightened, stretching his back with a groan. He hadn’t slept well last night, and had been up since 05:00, working on the five-dimensional tensor equations that had been frustrating him for nearly two years now. After the Vanguard’s visit Counter-Earth in ’17 he’d been certain that there must be a way for him to finesse his quantum tunneling power in such a way as to allow him to open a gateway to a specific parallel reality.
It had taken him awhile (just over a year, in fact) to figure out the complex equations that allowed him to shift the dimensional barriers on the quantum level, but he had done it. He’d been very excited the first time he’d stepped through into a different, parallel world – maybe now the Vanguard could finally redeem their word to the desperate Caretaker of that vile reality called Counter-Earth! But his enthusiasm had been quickly tempered when he found he had absolutely no control over which alternate reality he connected to.
In the two years since that initial breakthrough he had seen, briefly, a score of wildly different Earths — from one very much like their own, but utterly lacking in meta-humans of any sort, to a tropical hothouse planet where the descendants of dinosaurs still roamed an apparently sentient-free landscape. None of them were Counter-Earth, however, nor even any of the other alternate realities they’d visited in their campaign to thwart Kronos’ destruction of their local multiverse. Given the almost infinite nature of that restored multiverse, the chances of returning to Counter-Earth at the moment seemed essentially nil.
It was also why he’d never dared step more than a few feet into any of those other realities, and was exquisitely careful to hold his portal open – he had no desire to be stranded and then spend the rest of his life trying to get home. Jonny and Chuck had both thought it would make a great TV series, and he’d drily offered to let them have a go at it; a little surprisingly, they’d actually had the sense to turn down the offer. Two years of frustratingly, tantalizingly, close calls, but no success in developing any fine control… but usually this intractable problem could take his mind off his other intractable problem, at least temporarily.
Although to be fair, Nora wasn’t an intractable problem. Or even really a problem at all. Really, she was just a situation he could do nothing about. It had taken time, and a great deal of money, but his shrinks and his lawyers had finally succeeded in curing and freeing Nora “Epiphany” Jones from the clutches of the penal system. Well, the curing, for sure, as far as he could tell – the freeing was still heavily conditional. Given her power level, it wasn’t surprising SHADE had insisted on supervised release, he supposed.
Still, he’d been nervous and excited on Friday 3 January 2020, as he waited for her to walk out of the Wolf Point Psychiatric Hospital, a (provisionally) free woman. Perhaps for the first time in her life, he remembered thinking, given her pre-Incident history. Before gaining her powers she’d essentially been goth eye-candy for a string of abusive loser boyfriends, culminating in that super-idiot Morris Klein, aka Caption Oblivion. He, at least, remained buried in the Forty Fathoms Super Max, miles off the Oregon coast.
It had been a wet, blustery day, the dark gray waters of the Columbia frothed with whitecaps, and he’d handed her an umbrella when they’d escorted her out – he’d known enough not to offer to share his own, not at this delicate stage of things. After an awkward moment, she’d spoken first.
“Well, um, a thank you is in order, Mr. Steiner. I know it was your lawyers, and your money for the specialists, that got me out of there.” She hadn’t looked back at the hospital as they walked slowly to the limo he had waiting, although he’d sensed that she was very much aware of it. “I saw you at almost all of my hearings, of course, although we’ve hardly spoken since that first, memorable, conversation… I really do appreciate this, Mr. Steiner, all of it…but… I’m just not sure what…”
“Please, call me Kyle,” he’d said, smiling as he opened the rear door of the Tesla Phaeton. He’d thought about driving his Miata, but he’d wanted all his attention focused on this next conversation and the sports car, unlike the limo, wasn’t self-driving. “And there is no ‘what,’ Ms. Jones. As I said when we first met, I admire you and see a great deal of potential in you, potential I’d hate to see wasted because of a few mistakes, made under very stressful circumstances.”
“And my being beautiful doesn’t hurt either, I suppose,” she’d said stiffly, arms crossed tightly across her body and a hint of bitterness in her voice. He’d pointedly taken the rear-facing seat across from her, rather than the one next to her. She’d looked a little surprised at that and, sadly, a little suspicious, too.
“At the risk of sounding like a douche,” he’d said, letting the smile fade a bit, “I’m a pretty good looking guy myself. I’m also extremely wealthy. And I have an Olympic Gold Medal. Good-looking women, even beautiful women, are not hard to find, if that’s all I was interested in. I won’t deny that I find you compelling, on a number of levels, and your looks can hardly be separated from the rest of you. But they are not the sum of you.
“That said, I recognize that my helping you like this has put us both in an… uncomfortable position. I wanted you free, but in every sense – and that includes being free of me. You don’t owe me anything, and I certainly didn’t help you just to tie you to me out of obligation. While I would like explore the … possibilities with you, it has to be entirely on your terms. Or at least the start does, if there is a start.”
“That’s a nice speech, Mr. Steiner,” Nora had said after a moments introspection, looking him directly in the eye for almost the first time since she’d stepped outside the hospital. “And yet I notice you’ve arranged a set-up where we’ll have to spend time together on a regular basis. That seems a little like pressure to me.”
“Ah, yes… no. You won’t be seeing me much at all, in fact. Unless you wish to, of course. But once I drop you off at the apartment where you’ll be living (paid for by social services and a prisoner release non-profit program, by the way, not by me), you’ll have to call me, if you want to see me.”
She’d looked uncertain at that, and frowned. “But I thought I was being released into your custody, under your supervision…”
“Mmmm, again, yes and no. Technically, yes, I’m responsible for keeping you on the straight and narrow while you’re on supervised release. But I’m handing over the day-to-day on that to the law firm that secured your release, Higgins, Hardy and Hoyle. Specifically, to Henry Higgins, Esq., the senior partner there.”
She’d raised an eyebrow at that, and actually laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“No, that’s really his name,” Kyle had chuckled. “Fifty-four years old and he still hasn’t forgiven his parents for that. But seriously, he’s a reliable, solid man, and you can trust him to look out for your best interests. Although I retain him, you are his client in this, and he won’t – can’t – report to me on anything beyond the legal basics. Unless you violate the conditions of your release, of course. I’ll also have to be at your quarterly evaluations, but that’s it.
“I’m serious about not putting pressure on you Ms. Jones. I’ve thought a lot about this, but if I’ve missed something, if you are feeling pressured at any point, please tell me.”
Nora had relaxed a bit after that, or at least her body language had… although he’d thought a certain guarded reserve remained behind those gray eyes. For the rest of the drive to Lakehaven and her new home, they’d discussed their situation about as frankly as he could’ve hoped for. When they arrived, however, he held up a restraining hand as she reached for the door.
“There’s one more thing, Nora – Ms. Jones,” His sudden nervousness must have been obvious, for she looked at him warily. “I’ve asked you to trust me, and to take what I say on faith, but that feels like a one-sided deal… which is just what I don’t want. So, in the interest of fair play, and putting all my cards on the table… I want you to understand that I trust you, see, and that—“
“Mr. Steiner – Kyle. You’re babbling. What are you trying to say?” She’d seemed more amused than wary at that point, perhaps thinking he was trying to ask for a date after all.
He’d taken a deep breath… and then took the plunge. “I’m Quanta.”
They’d sat in the back of the limo for another hour, and he’d answered all her questions. In fact, he’d opened up to her more than he had to anyone since his grandmother had died. She seemed to sense that, and had reciprocated, talking frankly about her childhood (happy enough, at least until high school), her insecurities, and the stress of her immense powers and the psychotic break they’d precipitated. She’d seemed gratified to realize he really did understand most of those things himself… and maybe a bit reluctant when the time had come to say goodbye?
Kyle had whistled happily all the way back to his condo that day… she was at least calling him by his first name now, and that was a start…
He hadn’t seen her for almost three months after that, however, not until her first quarterly evaluation at the end of March. She did accept his offer of lunch that day, but had insisted on going Dutch. They’d talked of mundane things, mostly, such as her new job as a freelance web designer and her attempts to get a singing career going, and his adventures with the Vanguard.
That had been five weeks ago, and while they hadn’t gotten together again they were talking on the phone, at least weekly…
And shit, now he had two minutes to get to the Pyramid. Not a problem for him, of course, but he was still cutting it close. He briefly considered just going in his boxers, rather than slipping into his Q-lon 7 uniform – after all, his shell didn’t reveal what he was wearing. Or not wearing. Then he recalled the incident with Sonica and her gang in Sunset Park last month… he’d lucked out that there hadn’t been any clear photos of his face that day, although there were plenty of shots of his chili pepper boxers.
He took the extra time to slip into his uniform.
••••••
JJ looked up as Kyle – Quanta – slid into his seat at the briefing table, the last of the Vanguard to arrive, and grinned. His friend was always cutting it close these days, it seemed. He shook his head in amusement and tapped a button on the console in front of him to start the meeting’s official recording.
“It is Monday, May the 4th, 2020 —“
“May the Fourth be with you!” Jonny sang out from across the table, and Chuck, Gideon, and Seth all chimed in with an enthusiastic “And with you!” Rather too quickly not to have been planned. Scion noticed that Blue Flame had switched seats today, so as to put himself out of easy reach of both himself and Artemis. With an exasperated sigh, he continued.
“— and the Vanguard has gathered for a special briefing, at the request of our guest this morning, CIA analyst Frederick (not Fred) Hamilton, better known to the public as the hacker superhero Wunderkind.
“Mr. Hamilton’s area of expertise in the CIA is China, with an emphasis on that country’s meta-human population and high tech resources. In that capacity he has learned of a disturbing development in the region, with the apparent resurgence of the terrorist organization known as the Rising Sun.” Scion turned to their guest, seated on his left. “An unfortunate turn, Mr. Hamilton, certainly, but I know I, at least, am curious as to how this affects us?”
“Thank you Captain Astor,” Hamilton said, looking around the table as he stood. A little nervously, Chilz thought, and wondered if the kid was even old enough to drink yet.
“First a little background, if I may. As some of you may know, the Rising Sun is an international terrorist organization originally founded in 1970 by the second Kaminari. The Japanese assassin’s stated goal was to create conditions favorable to a resurgence of Japanese power, and ultimately total hegemony, in SE Asia. Its scope broadened somewhat over the years, but after the death of its founder in 2002, and the refusal of her daughter to take over the organization, the Rising Sun faced an existential crisis.
“This was because third Kaminari not only declined the offer to run her mother’s organization, she actively began hunting down and, um, eliminating its operatives. Eventually forced out of Japan, the group gradually evolved into a worldwide assassins-for-hire outfit, although still operating primarily in SE Asia, and currently based in Taiwan. Somewhat ironically, given their origins as Japanese imperialists.
“Intelligence sources have determined that the group has been recently hired by a shadowy figure in Asia to perpetrate a biological attack on the United States. Who this mysterious figure is, or if they are connected to the Chinese government in anyway, we don’t really know. Although I have my own suspicions…
“Anyway, six months ago the American Pandemic Response Team, part of the US Directorate of Global Health Security and Biodefense, helped stamp out an outbreak of a new pathogen in Wuhan, China. Officially called Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome Coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2), it had the potential to spark a world-wide pandemic on the scale of the Spanish Flu of 1918-1919. While the outbreak was contained, thanks to the quick response of the PRT and WHO, the virus remains extant. It has apparently been acquired by the Rising Sun, through the agency, we strongly suspect, of their mysterious Chinese client.
“It is believed that at least one “bio-bomb” has been smuggled into the US, and that agents of the Rising Sun intend to detonate the device in a West Coast city. The Agency, and SHADE, believe Los Angeles is the most likely target, with San Francisco being a secondary possibility.
“My own analysis, however, leads me to believe that Astoria will be their actual target. I was unable to convince my bosses to act on this, so I’ve come here in my super hero identity, to seek the Vanguard’s aid in finding and stopping the terrorist attack. Let SHADE deploy its resources in L.A. and S.F., the heroes, as usual, will save the day from the real threat…”
Gideon noted that the kid’s idea of a costume was pretty much street clothes, a leather jacket, and some cool eye-wear. The same philosophy as the Phantom Ace, he thought, and nodded with approval at the kid as the discussion dove into the technical details.
Artemis thought Quanta looked surprised, as far as one could tell under his shell, when his phone rang in the middle of the briefing. Like all of them, she knew he kept if off during such meetings, but she also knew he had, again like all of them, a few emergency numbers that were allowed to call through under any circumstances. She suspected she knew who his emergency exception was…
Stepping onto the terrace outside the Ready Room, Kyle accepted the call from Nora. He knew she wouldn’t use this number unless it was important, and his pulse quickened as he accepted the call.
“Kyle, I – this is awkward, but I think I need your help.” She was whispering, and sounded urgent. “Yours and your special friends.” Even through his rising concern, Kyle appreciated that she didn’t mention his heroic identity, even on an ostensibly secure line.
“What is it Nora? Are you hurt? What’s going on?”
“I swear, this isn’t my fault… at least I’m pretty sure it’s not…”
“Nora—“
“OK, OK, it’s just so weird… I came into my local bank branch this morning to deposit some checks, when I suddenly found myself in the middle of a bank robbery—“
“Oh. Well, I know you’re still reluctant to use your powers, but under the circumstances—“
“Yeah, it’s not that. The problem is, apparently these guys think I’m their leader!”
“WHAT?!”
“Look, these assholes burst in, waving pistols and assault rifles, and as soon as they spotted me they started calling me “the boss lady.” I was confused as shit, at first… terrified, honestly, that I’d had another psychotic break, and really did set up this job somehow, without knowing about it.
“But that’s just not possible. I’ve been doing well, you know that, and I don’t have any “lost time” or holes in my memory. I refuse to believe this shit… there must be another explanation! And the only ones I can think of all involve meta-humans.
“So, while “my” minions go about the job of robbing the damn bank, I slipped out my cell phone and called you. I’m using my probability-warping powers to make certain that none of the customers or employees get hurt… Um, I’ve also disabled the security cameras, and scrambled their already-recorded footage for today – I’m not going back to that mental hospital… or to prison!”
“OK, I believe you, Nora. Clearly there’s something going on here, but we’ll sort it out. Just stay calm, sit tight, keep everyone safe, and I’ll see you in just a couple minutes!”
Unfortunately, as he stepped back into the Ready Room to get the team moving, Dispatch was in the middle of listing several other crimes occurring simultaneously across the city – a hostage situation at the Seaview Oceanographic Institute at Clatsop Point; an armed robbery at the OMSI Annex and Sagan Planetarium in Cascadia Heights; a riot at the Seven Seas Mall in Evergreen; and now Nora’s bank robbery at the Wells Fargo in Lakehaven.
While Quanta chaffed at the delay, Scion quickly dispatched Prometheus and the Phantom Ace to deal with the hostage situation in the Outer Peninsula, while Artemis contacted Paragon, who agreed to handle the situation at the planetarium/museum.
“The police should be able to quell the riot at the mall,” Quanta growled as he opened a quantum tunnel to the bank. “So let’s go!”
With their guest, Wunderkind in tow, the rest of the Vanguard followed him through the portal…