15 September 2020 – Astoria, Oregon
Chuck Chisholm
It had been a long day, but a fun one, and Chuck was still feeling energized when the evening Vanguard meeting had finally broken up. JJ and Kyle had pulled in an old friend, Dr. Ted Carbonet, and the three had succeeded in linking the chemicals from the Volksmacht Technology Solutions chemical plant with the pollutants they’d found in the Columbia River and out in the nearby Pacific. Their favorite judge, Rami Saleh, had issued a warrant to search the VST facility, and the evening meeting, despite an already tiring day, had been necessary to prepare for tomorrow’s early morning raid on the Clatsop Spit facility. He should probably just grab a bite and turn in, but truth was, he was still wired.
Meg Halcyon’s revelation in yesterday’s Oregonian — that Ultra’s granddaughter had inherited his powers and was now taking up his name and legacy — had hit not just the city but the world like a bombshell. The crowds around the Pyramid, as people gathered to try and get a glimpse of the new hero, quickly grew to such size that the mayor had to authorize overtime for the APD for crowd control. Scion had finally announced that the Vanguard and the new Ultra would hold a joint press conference in Defiance Plaza the next day at 14:00. That hadn’t entirely broken up the mob, but it had at least thinned it enough to give everyone some breathing room.
Of course his contacts in the media had been all over him yesterday, but he’d kept mum, just like Karen, that is Ultra, had asked. At first he’d been really put out by the new Ultra stealing his chance to go toe-to-toe with Gojira when she’d airlifted the kaiju out to sea. But once he’d gotten to know her, it was hard to maintain the ire. She was direct, open, and very eager – and once he’d learned some of her back story, any lingering annoyance had disappeared. He’d always been an Ultrason fan, but damned if he could justify what the man had done to his own kid in the name of protecting her!
Once the afternoon’s press conference was over – and hadn’t that been a three-ring circus, by god? — all bets were off, at least in regards to the media. While Scion and Quanta had quickly excused themselves for their appointment with Judge Saleh, and of course Artemis had simply vanished into the shadows, Totem, Blue Flame and Chilz had remained for the public meet-and-greet with Ultra. The festival-like atmosphere in Defiance Plaza had been pretty wild, with both public and press anxious to to get up close and personal with the new hero.
After about an hour it had all gotten too overwhelming for her, and Ultra had politely said good-bye before shooting up into the sky, almost too fast for the eye to follow. By that time Totem had disappeared with Meg, leaving the field entirely to Chilz and the Blue Flame – who both loved it. They regaled the reporters and the public with accounts of the fight with Gojira, and happily gave individual interviews with a dozen different news services, from CNN to the BBC (and, as always, taking care to give the local stations equal time). By the time Scion and Quanta had summoned the team back to HQ for the evening briefing, Chilz had won the media interview contest with the Blue Flame by one – the interview with Al Jazeera having put him over the top at the last minute.
Interacting with the media always energized him – he never quite got why so many of the others seemed to hate having to deal with the press. Today had been no exception, and the night was young. He still owed Tori for having run out on her so abruptly the day of the Gojira attack (she’d understood, of course, but he still felt bad – he hadn’t even said good-bye, he’d realized later). On the spur of the moment he decided to giver her a call.
“Hey kiddo, you busy tonight?” he asked when she picked up. “I wanted to make up for running out on you Saturday morning, and I thought maybe a night out dancing might do the trick.”
“Ha! You know me too well, old man,” she laughed. “And you also know you don’t owe me anything for “running out.” What were you supposed to do, let a giant radioactive lizard destroy the city while you gave me a foot massage? But it’s a school night, Chuck, and I have an 08:00 class…”
“Yeah, yeah, and I’ve got — well, I can’t exactly say what I’ve got, but I have to be up even earlier. So I promise not to keep you out past, oh, midnight. What do ya say?”
She said yes, and 30 minutes later he was picking her up on one of the Vanguard’s sky-cycles, a decision which won him major points with her dorm mates, but had Tori rolling her eyes. Still, she obviously enjoyed the flight, and they were both grinning at all the envious stares when they’d landed at Mimoza around 21:00 and been ushered past the line as soon as the door guy recognized Chuck.
By unspoken mutual agreement they both limited themselves to a single cocktail, but they didn’t hold back on the dance floor, spending the next two hours getting sweaty. Tuesdays at Mimoza were Drag night, and they took turns dancing with various drag queens, to the delight of the crowd.
“Aren’t you worried about bad press?” Tori laughed at one point, when he was boogieing with a gorgeous 6’ 2” Latino drag queen named Dixie Normous. More than one cellphone was out, despite the club’s no-photos policy.
“Nah, let the haters make hay out of it if they can,” he laughed back. “Who the fuck really cares these days? Besides, it’s not like I’m going home with her!”
“Well, way to let a girl down gently, sweetheart,” Dixie pouted in mock disappointment, and they all laughed like hyenas. Twenty minutes later Tori finally called it a night, and Chuck reluctantly agreed. “One last trip to the john, and we’ll head out,” he sighed. “Meet you at the entrance.”
But as he pushed open the door to the men’s room he realized he was going to owe Tori another apology — because there was no restroom beyond the door. When he turned around, there was also no door. The relentless disco beat of the nightclub was gone, replaced by the deep, muffled silence of a snowy winter night. He stood in a place that gave him a dizzying sense of deja vu… a place he slowly realized he’d seen before. He recognized the hallucinatory place of ice and cold as the one he’d seen on the day he’d gained his powers; the place he could never quite remember and which he’d convinced himself, in the years since, had been just a dream, a delusion. But now, in a flood of memory it was all coming back to him…
“And so, my mortal child, we meet again, as I promised we would,” boomed a deep, resonating voice that he felt as much as heard. He turned back and looked up… and up… to the blue-skinned giant from his old dream, enthroned on a massive stone seat set atop a small cliff of rock and ice. “Now it is time for you to remember that which I caused you to forget…”
At a gesture from the blue giant a flash of blue light burst in Chuck’s mind, and he did remember – he remembered standing in this very spot, on that day four years ago. Remembered King Logarthin of the Ice Giants of Yotan telling him that he was a half-breed child of the True People of the Ice…
“Chuck Chisholm, your true father was an Ice Giant, moving in the Middle World guised as one of its mortal denizens,” the king had said. His bass voice reverberated off the rocks and ice of the natural amphitheater around them, echoing in Chuck’s body.
“You’ve got the wrong guy,” Chuck had said then. He might have been confused about what was happening, but not about his parentage. “My dad was not any kind of giant, dude — ice or otherwise! I mean, the man barely stood 5’ 7” for god’s sake! And he sure as hell wasn’t blue. I’d have noticed.”
“Charles W. Chisholm was not your true father,” Logarthin had said, “although he was married to your mother. It is your true father’s blood, running in your veins, which has called out to your kin in your mortal distress. As your body lay dying you have called, and been answered. You have been chosen by the Living Ice, imbued with its power as few have ever been, even amongst the Yotankin, the True People of the Ice.
“But though you have been chosen, you must still prove yourself worthy of the mantle of the Living Ice. As King of Yotan, and the Voice of the Living Ice, I grant you half a lunar year to test your mettle in the Middle World, to prove yourself deserving of the gift you have been given. And then you will return here, to face the Champion’s Challenge™.”
Then the king had seemed to grow even larger, looming over Chuck like a storm cloud, and had reached down to touch a finger to his forehead. In a flash of blue light, Chuck had been made to forget everything, beyond a few dream-like fragments.
And now he was back…
“As I promised then, you have had half a Lunar Year to test your mettle, to prove yourself in the mortal world, to prepare yourself to face the Champion’s Challenge. You have had that grace, and now it time for you to prove yourself to your true people – are you the child of prophecy, long promised? Or just another failure, a promise foresworn by the weak blood of mortal humans?”
“Um, what prophecy, now?” Chuck asked, and was startled by a rumbling murmur behind him. He turned quickly to see a semicircle of stone benches arrayed around the immense stone dais on which he stood, benches packed with scores of ice giants. They varied in size and color, from maybe 12 feet to more than 16 feet in height, and from a deep electric azure to a pale blue that was almost white. Men and women, they thronged three rows deep and started at him with an intensity that unnerved him.
“Long ago, in that ancient time when first we came to Yotan,” the King boomed, drawing back Chuck’s attention, “when first we knew the Living Ice, the Oracles foretold the coming of a child, a mixing of our race with the race of humans. A child who would become the Champion of the Everlasting Winter, the physical avatar of the Living Ice itself, manifest in the world. The hero who would finally break the backs of our enemies, the hated Aesir.”
“Okaaaay,” Chuck said, struggling to take it all in. “And it’s taken this long for you guys to manage to produce this prophecy kid? Even assuming I believe this shit about me being half ice giant…”
“Prophecy moves in its own time, child, and you are not the first – that honor was stolen by my eldest son, a child got on a woman of the Salomani, when they came to the aid of our people during the time of the Great Warming. For indeed, I thought to force the prophecy into fruition, and lay with Hasinda. But Fate will not be by governed by any hand save its own. The resulting child of our union proved a failure and a disappointment – for the Salomani are not true humans, anymore than we, nor true mortals. That false child proved a great mistake, for he went over to our enemies in time, and to this day betrays the destiny of the Living Ice and his own people.
“Over the long years there have been other joinings of our blood with that of mortals – some whelps have been truer than others, the cold blue blood running strong in their veins. But none have proven to be the child of prophecy. After my own disappointing first attempt, I left the task to others of our race, both male and female. Some half-breeds have been raised here, in the heart Yotan, most have grown up in the mortal world. None have proved themselves worthy in the end, however.
“In recent years I listened to my people’s pleas, for as King of the Yotan, surely my blood would run truest when mixed with that of actual mortals. And so it proved, for in your moment of crisis, as you lay dying, your blood reach out to mine, and through me to the Living Ice – and the Living Ice answered you, imbuing you with its very essence and binding you to it.”
“Wait,” Chuck said, feeling suddenly dizzy. “Are you saying—“
“Chuck, I am your father! Prove yourself a true Child of the Ice, and join me. Together we will defeat the Aesir and open up the Nine Realms to the beauty and majesty of the Living Ice!”
“No, it’s not true!” Chuck objected, his chest tightening… was this what a panic attack felt like? “It’s impossible, I don’t look anything like you people!”
“Search your feelings, Chuck,” the King said patiently. “You know it is true, for you can feel your connection to the Living Ice, and through it your connection to me.”
And the truth was, Chuck had been aware, almost from the minute he’d appeared in this frozen world, of a vast consciousness running through everything around him – and through himself. Not sentient, at least not as he understood it, but alive… and aware. Concentrating on it now, through it he sensed the ice giants, to varying degrees… the consciousness touched each of them, but some more deeply than others, and the King deepest of all. Deepest except for himself, Chuck realized…
“Now it is meet that you should stand before us in your true form as our son,” King Logerthin was going on, drawing Chuck reluctantly out of his inward contemplation. The giant (his father? Yes, he knew it was true, with a certainty that unsettled him) waved his hand, and Chuck felt a change begin within himself. It was completely different than the transformation when he became Chilz – that was painless. Enjoyable, almost, if he was honest. This was neither painless nor enjoyable.
Increasingly painful… as his bones grew… and his flesh stretched… he fell to his knees, trying to hold the screams inside… he would be damned if he’d cry in front of these giant blue barbarians… eventually the pain began to subside and he staggered back to his feet. As he did, he realized that he’d gone from his normal human height of 5’ 11”, past his Chilz height of 7’ 2” and now stood… at least nine feet tall, as best he could estimate it. Of course that still left him the runt of this litter – he caught sight of his hands and stared. His skin was now a deep electric blue… a hue very similar to his… father’s.
“But are you worthy of your gifts?” The King asked. “Now is the time when you must prove that you are the one we have waited for, the one who will allow us to finally defeat the arrogant godlings of Aesgart! Show us what you have learned, what you have done with what the Living Ice has given you – defeat the greatest Champions of Yotan, if you can, my son!”
At his words three figures stepped from the shadows beneath the bluff… three enormous ice giants clad in armor and wielding great battle axes. They slowly advanced onto the stone dais and closed in on Chuck, who stood momentarily paralyzed with uncertainty…
Kyle Steiner and JJ Astor VIII
It had been a long day, but a satisfying one, and Kyle hoped tomorrow was going to be even more satisfying. He’d been happy to accept JJ’s invitation to come back to his place and enjoy some grilled steaks and fine bourbon. He’d been a little surprised when Ted had also accepted the invitation. One of the original Vanguard, before they’d even had the name, Dr. Theodore Carbonet had hung up his mask before he’d even really begun his superhero career. Now a reserve member, he’d come back to help analyze the chemicals they’d found, both at the VTS refinery and in the nearby aquatic ecosystems.
Now, after eating and an invigorating dip in JJ’s amazing salt-water pool, the three men were soaking in the jacuzzi, sipping their Bonneville Bourbon and feeling quite mellow. Kyle wondered when JJ was going to begin his campaign in earnest to try and lure Ted back to full-membership in the Vanguard. He’d been hinting at it obliquely enough the last two days, as the three worked together, but hadn’t yet made a full on pitch.
“So, I was surprised your pet judge gave us such a grilling today,” Ted said into a momentary lull in the conversation… just as JJ was starting his pitch, Kyle suspected. “He certainly knew the questions to ask.”
“He’s no one’s pet,” JJ said, visibly shifting mental gears. “That’s why we prefer going to him for warrants. There are certainly judges who rubber stamp almost anything put in front of them, and plenty of others who just knee-jerk reject whatever we present. But Judge Saleh takes his responsibilities seriously, and balances the competing needs of the law and of quick action. I like him because he keeps us on our toes – and honest.
“And speaking of keeping on your toes, Ted, have you been practicing with your powers much these days?”
“Oh, I practice regularly,” Ted replied diffidently. “I figure it’s like having a gun – even if you don’t really want to use it, it’s better to know how when you do need to, rather than fumble around and shoot your own foot off. I even practice in that nice Q-Lon 7 outfit you sent over after that incident with the Moth left my original costume.. um, rather the worse for wear. And modesty.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” JJ said, brightening a bit. “Have you given any thought to reactivating your Vanguard status to a full member again? We really do need to expand the roster, and your powers are exceptionally versatile… we’d love to have you back, even if not as a full-time gig.”
“Ugh, no,” Ted grimaced. “I still have no real desire to play superhero, at least not very often. Sure, when circumstances demand it, like with that idiot the Moth, I’ll step in. But I’m much happier pursuing my work – especially after I left Sovereign Industries. These days, running my own private environmental research and consulting firm is much more my speed.”
“Mmmm, thanks to the generous backing of de la Vega,” Kyle added, grinning innocently into his drink.
“Indeed,” Ted agreed, unruffled. “Backing he provided without stings of any kind. Especially not strings tying me to the Vanguard. Look, you guys know I’m there for the team in a real emergency, or for things like this research gig, but I just don’t want to do the superhero thing full time. Sorry.”
He polished off his drink and grinned. “Now, how about another dip in that pool of yours, JJ? I gotta say, it’s soooo much better than a regular pool. But doesn’t it cost a fortune to maintain the salt water?”
“It does,” JJ sighed, recognizing a dead end when he hit one and accepting defeat… for the moment. “But I have a fortune, so that’s OK. Besides, how would you like to exercise in a room full of chlorine gas? That’s more-or-less what it’s like for me in a chlorinated pool… it’s just nasty.”
“I’m going to stay and enjoy the bubbles awhile longer,” Kyle said as the other two pulled themselves out of the jacuzzi. A pity Ted was so set against coming back, his powers were fascinating and Kyle would love a chance to study them in more depth. Well, maybe someday…
Jonny Osaka
It had been a long day, but an interesting one… so much so, Jonny hadn’t had time to grab more than an energy bar between the press conference and the evening Vanguard meeting. So now he was finally off to Warrenton to enjoy one of his favorite food carts at the amazing Crash Pod. While food carts had taken off in Astoria in the last decade, the Crash Pod remained the best of them, and he never tired of eating there.
Stepping away from the Monster Burger cart, Jonny scanned for an empty table. The pod was only moderately busy, it being an autumn weeknight, and he quickly found a spot near the Salad-Salad cart. People were generally good about giving him his space at the Crash Pod — the Code of the Carts, as he thought of it — and tonight he wasn’t wearing his costume. So he was a bit surprised when, just as he was reaching for his California Roll Sushi Burger with a side of edamame, someone sat down across from him.
“Excuse me, Jonny-san,” a young Japanese woman said, setting down her own tray (with a spicy tuna hand roll from Jaded Dragon, he noted… good taste, they were da bomb). “Please forgive my intrusion on your private time, but it is urgent that I speak with you.”
She was very attractive, in her mid-twenties, rather conservatively dressed, and for just a moment Jonny thought he was dealing with a fan. But then he recognized her, and his heart jumped for an entirely different reason. He set his burger down and tried to control his features, like Artemis had trained him.
“Good evening, Mariko-san,” he said, and was gratified at the flash of surprise he caught on her face, quickly masked. “How can I help the daughter of honored Oshiro Tatsuo?”
“It is for my father’s sake that I come to you,” Oshiro Mariko sighed. “Or to your alter-ego. I know that you believe, as so many in authority do, that my father is the super-powered criminal known as the Iron Oyabun—“
“The head of the Yakuza on the West Coast,” Jonny agreed. “Are you here to convince me otherwise?”
“I hope to, yes. For my father has been kidnapped, and my older brother, Hisashi is not doing enough to find him. Oshiro Enterprises is a large company, with an excellent security division and deep resources. Yet Hisashi is trying to keep the news as quiet as possible. In doing so I think he is endangering our father”
“Have you informed the police of this… kidnapping?” Jonny asked, his dinner forgotten. “My understanding is that Oshiro Tatsuo is in Japan on an extended business trip. Yes, I’ve made inquiries recently,” he added at her quizzical look, “since rumor has it that the Iron Oyabun has gone missing. Which is a strange coincidence, if the two men are not the same guy.”
“Hisashi refuses to allow the police to be brought in,” Mariko sighed. “Not only does he believe they are corrupt, he knows of their suspicions about our father and his relation to the Iron Oyabun and thinks they would not be interested in helping us.
“As for this coincidence you mention… perhaps the true criminal is purposefully laying low, to strengthen the supposed connection between himself and my father. Surely it must be convenient for him to have this absurd belief continue – after all, if everyone thinks they already know who the Iron Oyabun is, they will not expend any effort to look further. A perfect screen, yes?”
Jonny started to scoff, but then he stopped to really think about it. The idea didn’t seem all that absurd on reflection. It would make a brilliant cover for the real Yakuza head, to have the authorities focus their energies and resources on a… what did Artemis call it? A stalking goat… yeah. The real yakuza leader might even have orchestrated the rumors to begin with, once you started looking at it that way…
“Well, I suppose that’s not beyond the realm of possibility,” he finally said, reluctantly. “But even assuming I buy this idea, why come to me? Does your brother agree with bringing in the Vanguard? Because you must know I won’t be a keeping this conversation a secret, right?”
“Of course not, Jonny-san. But you are at least half-Japanese, and I believe you to be both a man of honor and one with the power and resources to help us. No, Hisashi does not know I am doing this; but I no longer care. Father has been missing for almost two weeks now, and both the Board and I grow fearful. Will you help me?”
“If I can,” Jonny sighed. “Tell me what you know about how your father went missing.”
“His car was ambushed on the way to Jordan Airfield, on 4 September. He was actually leaving for a trip to Japan, and had left Hisashi in charge of the company. It seems to have been a gas attack, from what his security detail can recall. They caught only a brief glimpse of dark-clad mercenaries before passing out. It seems obviously a professional job, but whether by our corporate rivals or some criminal organization I do not know.
“Hisashi has only allowed a small cadre of our security people to be involved in the search, hoping to keep the Board and the public as much in the dark as possible; but he is being too timid! Which is why I am here, seeking the aid of the Blue Flame, and of the Vanguard.”
“Well, I can’t make any promises, Mariko-San,” Jonny said. “But I will pass this on to the team, and we will do what we can…”
Cooper Ravenwing
It had been a long day, and a tiring one, given all the public interactions he’d had to endure, so Cooper was pleased when he could retire to the Sanctum, after the evening meeting with the Vanguard concluded. Meg was waiting for him there, and had whipped up dinner for them both, a task made much easier by the magic of the semi-sentient inter-dimensional building. Sitting down to eat in the Yellow Parlor, they talked over the days events, especially the Ultra press conference.
“I think it went pretty well,” Meg said, “but Karen’s got to get used to handling the press… I think she was getting a little freaked out there, at the end. Which reminds me, Louise Lancaster called me this afternoon, and wants to have a private chat… she’s invited me to breakfast tomorrow morning at the Western Empire Hotel. Any idea what she might want?”
“Not a clue,” Cooper shrugged, pouring some more wine into her goblet and topping off his own sparkling water. “But at a guess, I would say she is concerned about her granddaughter, and hopes you might be in a position to help her… you did get the scoop, as she did with the first Ultra. Perhaps she sees some symmetry in your relationship?”
“Mmm, maybe,” Meg sighed. “I guess I’ll find out tomorrow; but you know me – curiosity is like an unscratched itch. Hopefully it’ll be a slow news day… but then it’s not like my editor can object to my taking a few hours off after my last story!”
Cooper bit his tongue on a desire to tell her that tomorrow was very likely to bring another big story. Security needed to remain tight on this one, however; and besides, even if the VTS raid proved to be all they hoped, it wasn’t likely to top the Ultra /Gojira story. And speaking of rampaging kaiju…
“Well,” he said, setting down his napkin, “if you’re finished with your tiramisu, I think it’s time we checked in on our former visitor.”
“Ooh, yes, I love this bit,” Meg said, tossing her own napkin onto the table and hopping up. With a smile Cooper rose as well and led the way down to his scrying chamber. A room of many alcoves, this was where he kept an eye on any number of people, places, objects, and even dimensions, via a myriad of arcane devices. A large nook toward the back of the space contained a stone-lined pool of dark water.
Kneeling down, they both peered into the still, black liquid. Cooper waved a hand over the surface, blowing gently across it, then muttering a few words. However many times Meg heard them, her ear could never quite make sense of them… she shivered, despite the humid warmth of the room.
Deep within the water a light began to grow. Another moment, and they were looking at the deep sea. Moving through the dark waters of the Northern Pacific was the sleek form of Gojira, as sinuous in the water as it was lumbering on land. Its powerful tail drove it forward at a steady pace…
“Yes, the creature continues to move westward from the spot in the mid-Pacific where Ultra dropped it,” Copper said with some satisfaction. “I have enough data now to be sure… it is headed in a straight line for Kaiju Island.”
“That’s a relief,” Meg said, gazing intently at the rippling image. “So I can report that “the Vanguard is tracking Gojira, and is confident that the creature continues to move away from the US”, right?”
“That should be fine. I don’t want to be specific about how we’re doing the tracking, nor about the lizard’s probable destination, but the general information needs to be shared. And, if I may continue off the record, I plan to set a mystic barrier around Kaiju Island. It won’t stop anything from coming or going, but it will be a trip-wire of sorts, alerting me to any such movements.”
“An early warning system, eh?” Meg said. “Nice.”
“We remain uncertain if there are other dimensional gateways the kaiju use, elsewhere on the planet, unfortunately… but if Gojira or any of the others show up now, without setting off my mystic tripe-wire, we’ll have pretty solid evidence that such portals exist.”
“Well, you said you had an early morning tomorrow, and I know I do, so… shall I head home, or am I bunking over here tonight?” Meg asked, with a lascivious grin.
“I think you know which I’d prefer,” Cooper replied, with a grin that matched her own. They stood and walked away, leaving the image of Gojira to fade in the water behind them.
Jane Valentine
It had been a long day, and tomorrow promised to be longer, so it was with some relief that Artemis shadow-stepped from her office in the AzTech Pyramid to a familiar, and very dark, alley two blocks from her home. She often shadowed in like this, a short distance from the Hayward Building, rather than directly into her loft apartment — it was good for Jane Valentine to be seen coming and going, just like any normal person.
As she stepped out of the shadows onto Barry Street, the Cloak of Night shifted around her, taking on the form of her usual civilian clothes, including her signature white duster. Anyone watching would have thought it a mere trick of the light as her hair seemed to go from black to a lustrous, fiery red. Not that anyone was watching… she was very careful about that.
The bouncer/doorman outside the entrance to the Centerfolds Gentleman’s Club nodded respectfully to her as she strode past, and she returned the gesture. She’d made it clear many years ago where the neighboring business stood in regard to Valentine Investigations, and they’d enjoyed a cordial, if wary, relationship ever since. She found it useful to have a meeting place frequented by many mid-level underworld figures so close to hand, and given her… undefined was perhaps the best way to think of it… relationship with the owner, they found that it was best to have her goodwill – so management didn’t say anything when she came in for a drink and some business, and she saw to it that they remained in good standing with the cops and the OLCC.
As usual, she found the five flights of stairs from the small lobby up to her top-floor apartment little more than an invigorating warm-up. A few of her tenants made occasional pleas for an elevator to be put in, but she’d not seen the need for one in 1902, when she’d had the building built, and she didn’t see the need for one now. Besides, where did they imagine the damn thing could be placed? She noticed none of the requesters ever seemed willing to give up any of their space to accommodate an elevator.
Which first, dinner or a bath? While the lure of the bubbles was strong, Jane knew she’d never get around to the food once she was in the tub. So eat first, then luxuriate. There was leftover pad thai in the refrigerator which should still be good… better, actually, as she found the flavors in many Asian dishes melded together into something even better after a day or two. As she rummaged in the fridge, she considered her next move in the Amanda Parsons case.
The sudden intersection of Jane Valentine’s missing person case with Artemis and the Vanguard’s new interest in Volksmacht Technology Solutions was setting her nerves on edge. It seemed too great a coincidence for the two not be related… but in her 154 years she’d learned that coincidence was a great deal more prevalent in life than most people really recognized. Still…
Her operatives were turning up nothing on the missing woman, which was suspicious if it was just a run-of-the-mill disappearance. Elizabeth Meyers, Amanda’s sister and the one who’d hired Jane, had phoned first thing Monday morning, frantic. She’d felt for days that she was being watched, and then on Sunday her house had been broken into and ransacked while she and her family were at church. The police were shrugging off the break-in as “teenagers,” since a mess was made but nothing significant was stolen; to Jane, it sounded like professionals, searching for something and covering their tracks.
Jane had decided it was time for more direct action – which had the added benefit of allowing Artemis to avoid all the hoopla going on around the Pyramid. Meg Halcyon had got her interview with the new Ultra after the rescue in Denver Sunday morning, and the story had run Monday morning in the Oregonian (and in the afternoon edition of the Daily Star). The public reaction had been volcanic, to say the least, and the crowds around the Pyramid were massive. Fortunately, no one really expected Artemis to be available for comment during the day, and she was happy to take advantage of that when she could.
After reassuring Elizabeth and setting a couple of operatives to keep an eye on the Meyers’ home, Jane had headed over to VST to beard the lion in its den. The lion in this case was Michael McGreggor, VST’s Vice-president of Biochemical Research, and Amanda Parsons’ bosses boss. A man in his late fifties, not unattractive in a ruddy sort of way, at least in his corporate photo, he’d spent the last 25 years working his way up the corporate ladder to his current position, according to the barebones research she’d had time for. Unsurprisingly, given his title, his office was in the administrative building out at the chemical plant, rather than at the main corporate offices on the Eastside, which gave her fewer layers of gate-keepers to get past.
When she’d finally reached him, McGreggor had, of course, denied any knowledge of Ms. Parsons – a great many people worked under him, after all, and he could hardly be expected to remember every drone, or keep track of their comings and goings. Was Ms. Valentine sure the woman hadn’t just quit and moved on? Oh yes, he did recall the sad case of Mr. Francisco, who’d died in an unfortunate accident last week… he was Parsons’ fiancé? He’d had no idea, but there you go – perhaps in her grief she’d wanted to be alone, had simply run off, seeking solitude. Of course there was nothing to the ridiculous idea that she was a whistle-blower, there was nothing for her to blow a whistle about – the company was already addressing the minor environmental issues the press had recently blown out of all proportion. No, no more questions, he really had no more time to waste on the matter. Good day!
Jane had left VST with a strong personal dislike of the man – his disdain for women came through even when he was trying to be politic — but with no clear evidence of any complicity in the disappearance of Amanda Parsons. But while she was pursuing her leads, John, Ted and Kyle had been working on linking the chemical samples taken at the chemical plant to the samples from the Columbia and the nearby Pacific. After the joint Vanguard-Ultra press conference this afternoon they had taken their evidence to Federal Judge Rami Saleh. He’d had some sharp questions, but had eventually issued a warrant to further investigate the VST chemical plant “and such other related facilities as seems necessary.” She could only hope the search, which was to be carried out early tomorrow morning, would shake loose something on her case as well.
It was about half-eight when she sat down at the dining room table with a bowl of the re-heated pad thai and a nice Riesling. Jane studied the Go board with the game that she and John had been playing almost a week ago, before he’d been called back to his office to deal with some minor crisis or another. He was getting much better at the game, she had to admit, and he’d given her a real challenge that evening. Still, she’d have won in six moves, she thought, as she studied the board. Maybe seven…
She was jolted from her strategic contemplation by a flashing red light and the urgent vibration of her watch. It was the silent alarm from her offices, four floors below. Reading the alert text, it seemed someone had made the incredibly poor decision to break into the offices of Valentine Investigations! This was unusual… after so many years, most of the city’s underworld knew just how foolish it was to pull this kind of shit on Jane Valentine. It never worked out well, it never paid off, and it was always painful. Still, every now and again some wannabe tough guy trying to make his rep, or a disgruntled target of an investigation who didn’t know any better, took a run at her. Well, it had been awhile, so time to renew the lesson, she supposed…
Downstairs, Jane found the door to her second floor office forced open, the metal of its knob and lock plate crumpled and twisted, the wood splintered, and most irritating of all, the glass panel with “Valentine Investigations” in gold letters on it cracked. Damnit, she loved that door, and the glass was expensive to replace! Gun drawn, she slipped quietly into the reception area.
While the Cloak of Night couldn’t lend her most of its powers when in the form of mundane clothes, a few remained active, including the ability to see in almost total darkness. Which meant she didn’t need to flip on the lights to see Zeke’s desk had been ransacked, drawers pulled open and the contents scattered round. The door to the corridor that lead to the break room and her own personal office had also been forced open, and she followed the trail of destruction.
She had designed the long corridor very specifically to make sure it was difficult for anyone to approach without alerting her — a number of carefully placed boards were designed to squeak, loudly, when trod upon. Placed such that it was almost impossible for even a stealthy person to miss them, there were also a few equally carefully paced boards that were rock solid. These allowed Jane to approach her office in complete silence.
She could see by the feed from the security cameras, playing on her watch, that the tall, shadowy figure was at her stand-up safe, just to the left of the main door. It seemed intent on trying to pry it open… which, combined with the damaged doors, meant she was dealing with an enhanced individual. Better not to go in through the front door then, that would put her right on top of the intruder. Jane retreated back down the hall, through reception, and into the associates’ office. From there she passed through the conference room to the door at the far end of her office.
Cracking it open slightly she peered in, just in time to see the intruder finally manage to wrench the safe’s door partially open. Goddamnit, that thing was expensive – time to put a stop to this. Artemis slipped into the room, and flipped the light switch…
The figure at the other end of the room jerked around with a high-pitched shriek as the lights flared, jumping back from the safe. The floppy designer hat she wore slipped from her head and spiraled to the floor… revealing a woman who seemed to be made of living gold! Skin, hair, nails, even her eyes, glinted and gleamed in the light. Most of her body was covered by a very fashionable Vera Wang trench coat, belted at the waist. But her hands were bare, as were her legs from below the knee to her feet — which appeared to be clad in black and gray low-heeled Jimmy Choos. Her face was half covered by an enormous pair of Isabel Marant sunglasses.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” Jane said loudly, her gun aimed steadily at the strange woman. Not likely that the gun was much of a threat, if she was really made of organic metal… of course, if her organic metal really was a kind of gold, that was one of the softest metals.
Always look on the bright side, Jane, she thought, with a mental shake of her head.
“Valentine!” The golden woman hissed. “Give me the flash drive! We — I know she gave it to you! Just hand it over an no one needs to get hurt.”
“Lady, I have no idea what you’re talking about. But if you don’t put your hands up and get on your knees, you’re going to be the one to get hurt. Do it. NOW!”
For a moment Jane almost thought the other woman was going to comply. But then she seemed to remember that she was made of metal. She began stalking toward Jane, a slow grin spreading across her gleaming metal face. “Old lady, you’re gonna be the one hurting tonight!”
It was hard to tell with the shifting light on the metallic form, but something about how she moved, and especially about the way she spoke, made Jane feel she was dealing with a very young woman… mid-twenties at the oldest, she thought. Maybe late teens?
“Old lady?” Jane laughed as the intruder tossed one of the heavy guest chairs in front of her desk aside like it was made of foam. “You’re the one who looks like a Golden Girl, honey.”
With that, she slammed her gun into its holster and leaped forward, taking the other woman completely by surprise. Jane had to be careful – it was widely known that Jane Valentine was a skilled martial artist, but she couldn’t use too much of her super strength without risking her secret identity. Still, if the girl was as young as she seemed, she might not have much in the way of fighting skills…
She managed to close and grapple with the Golden Girl, but the metallic form was just as slick as she’d feared. Before she could consolidate her hold Jane had slid halfway around her opponent, who made a twist and managed to shed her completely. Jane tuned her fall into a rolling spin and ended up on the far side of the woman. She was very annoyed now.
The second chair went flying as Golden Girl lunged forward, and this time Jane was ready for the slippery surface. She managed to get the taller woman (she must be at least 6’ 2” Jane calculated) into a head lock, and she made it stick. She didn’t know if the other woman needed to breathe in this form, and seriously doubted there was blood pumping beneath that golden exterior, but nonetheless she was immobilized, at least for the moment.
“Listen to me,” Jane said patiently as her prisoner struggled to break the hold. She was strong, but without leverage she couldn’t bring it to bear, and she was stuck. She eventually realized this, and calmed down somewhat. “Listen, I’m not sure what you think you’re doing, but let’s sit down and talk it out. Otherwise we can just sit here like this until the police arrive.”
The mention of the police seemed to panic the girl, at least momentarily, and after a few seconds she agreed to explain herself. Jane cautiously released her hold, and they stepped away form one another warily. But the metallic girl bent down and righted one of the overturned armchairs, and then sat down in it. Jane did the same with the second chair.
“Look, we know you’re working together,” the girl began without preamble, “and we know you must have the stolen information – that she left the flash drive with you. I’m sorry about all this,” her hand wave took in the damaged office. “Just let me have it, and I’ll be on my way with no more trouble.”
“Look, I still don’t know who or what you’re talking about,” Jane sighed. “Spell it out for me. With whom do you think I’m working, and what information is on this flash drive you want so badly?”
“Amanda Parsons, of course,” Golden Girl said. It was hard to be certain with all that gleaming metal, but Artemis had the distinct impression of rolling eyes. “We know she wanted to be a whistle blower, and that she stole information she thought could bring down the — that is, could take down VTS.”
“Ah,” Jane said, sudden enlightenment filling her face. “So you work for VTS, then!”
“What?!” The girl sat up, alarmed, hands gripping the chair arms so tightly the leather squeaked. “No! I’m not — that is, I work for, um… the EPA! I’m an EPA special agent! Listen, we know Parsons had dirt on VTS, and that she wanted to bring the company down. She was gonna bring us the information, but she disappeared before she could do it. We need to get hold of it before VTS and its goons do… yeah, which is why I risked this raid tonight. I know it’s not really legit, but we figured she must’ve given the information to you…”
It took all of her 154 years of hard-earned control for Jane not to laugh out loud. The girl was a terrible liar, and even if she wan’t trying to make it all up as she went along, she’d probably still not be very good at it. But how to handle this…
“OK, I do know about Amanda Parsons,” she said, careful that no trace of humor showed in her voice. “But I was hired to find her AFTER she went missing. I don’t know anything about what information she might’ve had on her employer. I’m afraid the… EPA has been given some misinformation. And just to show you I’m serious, I’ll let you take look in my safe… you won’t find any flash drives, I promise.”
The door of the safe was badly damaged, and it took several tries before Jane was able to get the combination to work. Even then it took a surreptitious yank with her own super strength to get the door all the way open. The younger woman peered suspiciously into the vault, but it was quickly obvious there was no flash drive, not even a CD or Blu-ray, nothing but papers and some money.
“OK, I guess there’s nothing in your office,” the girl finally admitted. “But don’t you live in this building, too? I’m going to need to search your apartment.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen, Golden Girl,” Jane said, reaching for her gun. But before she had it half out, a golden fist flashed out and hit her in the solar plexus. She flew backward several meters to crash into the file cabinets near the door, and then slumped to the floor, her senses reeling as she struggled to breathe.
Damnit woman, you should’ve been ready for that. That’s what you get for not taking this bitch seriously. She may be young, and not very bright, but she is extremely strong.
“And stop calling me Golden Girl,” the golden girl whined as she stalked toward Jane, hands reaching to grab her. “My name is Golden Childe!”
Jane knew what she had to do, but her plan was almost sidelined by a sudden urge to laugh. The girl actually pronounced the “e” at the end of Childe… “Child-eh.” But she was already recovered from the hit she’d taken, and when the metallic girl grabbed her by her shirt and began to pull her up, Jane’s feet came up suddenly, and she used the momentum of the lift to slam both feet into Golden Childe’s stomach with all her strength — secret identify be damned!
Golden Childe flew backward and through one of the three large windows overlooking Cecile Street. Fortunately not the center window, with the agency name painted on the glass. At least she wouldn’t have to replace that. There was an odd sound (metal hitting concrete she supposed), but by the time Jane got to the shattered window to peer down into the street, the woman was already beginning to move, staggering to her feet. Her expensive trench coat was somewhat the worse for wear, but she seemed to be shaking off the two story fall all too quickly.
Jane stepped back into the shadows, and allowed her costume to form around her, her hair darkening from red to black. She shadow-walked to the roof of Catherine’s Cafe, next door. From there she could make it look like Artemis had just happened by… and to add verisimilitude to the ruse, she threw her voice, a skill she’d picked up in the early years of the 20th Century, in Chicago. So it seemed to the villain that Jane Valentine called for help from the shadows of her office… and that Artemis answered, from the roof of the building next door.
She leapt down on the golden woman just as she finally regained her feet, and this time she didn’t have to hold back on her strength. Before she could even get a grip on her, however, Golden Childe swept one foot up in the kind of flashy, stupid, sidewise martial arts kick they use in the movies; the kind you almost never use in real life because they leave you unbalanced and vulnerable, and seldom work…
Artemis took the foot in her gut and doubled over with an explosive burst of air from her lungs. She flew backwards three meters and crashed through the glass wall of Catherine’s Cafe, smashing two tables to flinders and scattering a dozen customers. By the time she managed to pull herself together again, apologizing profusely to everyone around her and making sure no one was seriously injured, Golden Childe was gone. But she couldn’t have gone far…
Cursing a blue streak under her breath and flicking bits of food from her costume, Artemis ducked into the shadows of the closed bakery next door and shadow-walked to the roof of her building. Peering over the edge, she saw Golden Childe almost two blocks away up Barry Street – in fact, she was almost even with the alley Jane herself had appeared in earlier that evening. She shadow-walked to the roof of one of the buildings over the alley, and saw her target turning the corner.
Two shadow-walks later Artemis saw the golden villain climb into a small, sporty car… a Miata? Whatever it was, it seemed uncomfortably small and cramped for the metallic Amazon. Still, she started it up and pulled out, to roar up the street. Artemis had no trouble following from the shadows of the rooftops, teleporting just ahead of the car, watching its travel, then jumping ahead of it agin. In this way she followed it west and into the blue-collar suburb of Warrenton.
A mixture of residential and light industrial/commercial zoning, it seemed a strange place for the obviously high-end young woman to be going. The warehouse she parked in font of seemed an even more unlikely destination, yet it was into the apparently abandoned building that she disappeared. Artemis considered shadowing-walking into the place, but if it was some kind of secret lair, who knew what hidden security it might have.
In the old days, she’d have risked it, of course. But now he had a team behind her, with skills and talents she lacked. John, for instance, could easily scan for electronic security, and probably even disable any such from a distance. Better to wait, then, and bring the whole team in… and if, as she now suspected, this was a secret facility for the illicit activities of VTS, the new warrant would even cover it. Not that she didn’t already have probable cause, of course, but it’s still nice when your ass is covered…