4-16 October 2020
Astoria, Oregon
Chuck had been dreading this conversation, ever since he’d learned of his true parentage. He wasn’t exactly sure how he’d been imagining it would go with his mother (fainting, hysteria, embarrassment, denial, maybe a refusal to talk about it at all), but whatever he might have imagined it certainly wasn’t this…
“An ice giant, you say?” Madeline Chisholm marveled as she refilled her son’s tall glass with fresh-squeezed lemonade. “With blue skin? Really, one wonders how I missed that.”
Chuck stared at his diminutive, silver-haired mother in disbelieve. “So you don’t deny it?”
“Well, what would be the point, dear?” she asked, taking a sip from her own glass and offering him a plate of her famous crispy oatmeal cookies. “You seem quite certain that this Logarthin fellow is telling the truth, and since I did have a one-night-stand back in ’85 which lead to your birth, I’m willing to accept the assertion that he is your biological father… though I assure you, he was neither a giant nor blue that night.”
“Damnit, Mom, how can you be so… so… blasé about this?” Chuck snatched the plate of cookies from her and slammed it down on the table where they sat, in the breakfast nook of her condo. The condo he’d helped her buy when she’d moved back from San Diego almost two years ago, he was tempted to remind her. “This has turned my life upside down, and you’re acting like it’s no more serious than having picked the wrong accessory for your ensemble! I find out my whole life has been a lie, that my father wasn’t really my father, and—“
“Oh, get your head out of your ass, Charles Geary Chisholm,” his mother snapped, looking annoyed for the first time since he’d dropped his bombshell. “And stop being such a drama queen. I can’t imagine this has turned your life upside down any worse than getting super powers did; your “whole life” is in no way a lie, you’ve just added a bit more information to what you already knew about it; and your father most certainly was your father, in every way that matters, except for the one that is least important.
“Charles loved you so very much… he was so excited when you were born. You know he retired from the navy when you were two, just to give you a more stable life? That’s why he took the job with Boeing as a safety engineer and moved us to Portland. He loved you so much, in fact, that he refused to saddle you with Winchester as a middle name, and also thereby saved you from being a “junior.”
“Did Dad know I… I wasn’t really his son?”
“No. I never told him and, as far as I could ever tell, he never suspected. Really, why should he, you two looked so much alike as you got older… a coincidence for which I was always grateful. It made me so happy to see how happy you made him…”
“If you loved Dad so much, how come you cheated on him?” Chuck demanded, more harshly than he’d intended. But his mother sensed the pain behind the words, and sat back, studying his face for a moment before answering.
“Chuck, I loved your father, and only your father, since the day we met. But, like all relationships, things weren’t always perfect with us. He had always so wanted to be a father, and we’d been trying since our honeymoon to catch a baby. After three year of failure, it was beginning to take a toll on us both.
“We thought the move to Norway, when he took the NATO military liaison job, might be a fresh start… but after almost a year, nothing had changed. Your father didn’t blame me – well, he couldn’t, could he, since he was the one who adamantly refused any testing that might’ve shown us where the problem was – but he did grow depressed, and more distant. I was alone in a foreign country, away from family and friends… I didn’t go looking for a fling, but I was certainly primed for it.” She sighed and nibbled on a cookie.
“Your father was away on a NATO training exercise for several weeks, and one night I was out for dinner by myself, something I often did when he was gone. It was then that I met a tall, dark haired man with ice-blue eyes and enough charisma to dazzle any woman with pulse. He quite swept me off my feet that night, metaphorically speaking, and one thing led to another—“
“Wait, you said he was very charismatic,” Chuck interrupted, sitting up suddenly from the slow slouch he’d been sinking into. “I know the ice giants wield magic, and I’ve seen enough magic in action with the Vanguard to know that it’s real… maybe he literally charmed you into… well, you know… um, sleeping with him.”
“I suppose that might make it easier for you, dear heart,” his mother sighed, trying not to roll her eyes, “but please don’t try and take away my agency, nor my responsibility. I thought about it afterward, of course, especially once I knew I was pregnant – had I been drugged? Hypnotized? I admit magic didn’t occur to me at the time. But the fact was, his charm was no greater than any handsome man’s might have been, and although I was in a vulnerable emotional state, I did what I did willingly enough, and with a clear mind.
“I never regretted it, either, even in the days immediately afterward — because it made me realize that I still loved your father, and wasn’t willing to let our marriage fail. After he returned we had a long talk, and even did some marriage counseling, and things began to be good again. We moved back to the States two months later, and were talking about adoption, when I discovered I was pregnant.
“Charles was so dazzlingly thrilled at the news,” she said, smiling broadly, her thoughts clearly turned inward on distant memories. “I didn’t see that anything would be gained by telling him the truth… and besides, there was the outside chance that the baby really was his, given the timing.”
“Or maybe you just didn’t want to blow up your marriage,” Chuck replied drily.
“Maybe. Or maybe both things are true. Life is a lot more complicated than black and white binary states, honey,” his mother shrugged, with a rueful smile. “I would think you’d have learned that these last few years in that superhero group of yours.”
“True,” he acknowledged with his own shrug, one of surrender. He’d done what he needed to do, had heard her side of things… and she was right, it really didn’t change much of importance. “And speaking of the Vanguard, I need to get going. We’re having a meeting to decide what we should do about this war that the ice giants want to drag me into – with the Norse gods, if you can believe it!”
“Oh Chuck, after seeing you turn into a giant block of living ice, anything is believable.” His mother stood when he did and reached up to hug him. “So Rupert was really a giant, blue iceman? How very odd, really – nothing about him seemed particularly gigantic, as I recall it…”
Chuck choked on the last gulp of his drink, sending an atomized spray of lemonade across the nook, while his mother smiled innocently.
• • •
“So it’s agreed,” Scion said, leaning back in his chair. “We will not be drawn into this brewing inter-dimensional conflict Chilz has learned of between the Ice Giants of Yotan and the Aesir of Asgard.” The seven other members of the Vanguard nodded from their positions about the Round Table.
“Certainly, we have enough on our plate these days,” Artemis sighed, “without becoming unnecessarily involved in age-old arguments between rival beyuls. And of course with Chilz refusing to be a party to their plans, perhaps the Yotani will call off their planned attack. Nonetheless, it seems appropriate that we should at least warn the Aesir of the possibility. Totem, is that something you can manage?”
“Certainly,” the Magus Prime said. “I met with Wotan shortly after my ascension to my current position, along with the leaders of many other pantheons, and I’m sure he will listen to whatever we have to say. To be official and carry the full weight of my title, however, it would be best to send the message from the Sanctum itself. I will see to it immediately after this meeting.”
“Perfect,” Scion said. “With that decided, the last item on the agenda is the on-going Federal investigation into the illicit VTS meta-human project which the Gojira incident helped us to uncover. As expected, upper management is quickly distancing themselves from the actions of Mike McGreggor and his “rogue division.” McGreggor himself is refusing to talk, as is Dr. Mckenzie. The only one talking is your sort-of-might-have-been step-sister, Blue Flame — and she won’t shut up, apparently.
“Unfortunately, she doesn’t really know much about the project, beyond her and her father’s involvement, so she can’t implicate anyone higher up the corporate food chain. The government has ordered the Clatsop Spit chemical refinery shut down while the investigation continues, so only a skeleton maintenance crew remans on-site. Artemis and I agree we need to keep an eye on the facility, however, so please see the schedule we’ve set up for random fly-overs during your regular patrols.
“Thank you, and meeting adjourned. Artemis, a moment?” he added as everyone dispersed. “I don’t suppose you have any interest in accompanying me to the African Water Reclamation fund raiser tomorrow night? As Jane, that is, not Artemis. Strictly a civilian thing.”
She actually laughed as she stepped back into the deep shadows in one corner of the Ready Room. “John, I love you dearly and would take a bullet for you. But I’m afraid you’re on your own when it comes to separating wealthy socialites from their money, even in a good cause.” Then she was gone…
• • •
JJ glanced at the time stamp floating unobtrusively at the edge of his vision, projected by his AzTech SmartVision™ glasses directly onto his retina, and sighed inwardly. At least 90 more minutes before he could reasonably make his regrets and slip away back to his lab. Outwardly, he smiled at the grey-haired couple talking at him and tried to focus on what they were saying… something about how important his company’s work was in supplying Third World countries with inexpensive, portable power for the extraction of fresh water.
Unfortunately, the charity dinner to raise funds for exactly that cause was no more interesting to him than any other such social event, despite his Apergy Systems International being one of the principal sponsors, along with Savage International and AzTech Industries. But it was a necessary sacrifice, he supposed, and was certainly for an excellent cause. He saw Álvaro de la Vega holding forth before a small knot of enthralled potential donors across the room and marveled again at how the man seemed to thrive on these sorts of things. Unlike himself.
At least the view from the Western Empire Tower’s revolving Sky Room restaurant was stunning this evening – at the moment the lights of downtown’s towers glittered before them, with the span of the Lewis & Clark Interstate Bridge, Desdemona Island and the mouth of the Columbia to the right. Maybe he’d fly back to the office tonight, when he was finally able to slip out of this monkey suit—
An urgent beeping sounded on his watch, and a corresponding text alert flashed across his vision. Hastily excusing himself from the old couple, he stepped over toward the elevators at the center of the room, calling up more details on his glasses. Damn! Someone had broken into his lab at ASI, and a security guard was in critical condition… already being Life Flighted to Dixon Memorial, good. But how the hell was he only hearing about this now? His security systems should have alerted him personally the moment they were tripped…
Five minutes later, having discreetly asked Álvaro to make his excuses, Scion was touching down on the roof of his corporate HQ building. Penny Monet was there to meet him and quickly fill him in what details she could; a moment later Artemis stepped from the shadows.
“Thanks for coming, Artemis,” JJ said, taking the PADD from his VP of Operations and quickly scanning it. “I wouldn’t normally call you in on a B&E, but one of my people has been badly hurt, and my tech seems to have been skirted somehow. I can use your expertise tracking down whoever did this as quickly as we can.”
“Oh course, John, you know I’m always ready to help,” Artemis replied. “Who was injured?”
“One of my security staff, Pablo Ortiz… damn, he just got married, not two months ago. They’re rushing him into surgery now, and they’ll keep us informed.” He handed the PADD back to Penny and led the way to the stairs. “Now we need to figure out how they silenced my security and penetrated the lab’s defenses… and what they took.”
“As I said, I’m happy to help. However, I think Quanta’s abilities might be more useful at this point,” Artemis suggested. “Before the trail grows too cold for them to be effective.”
“Already contacted him, he should be in the lab by the time we get down there.”
An hour later, JJ had determined that, surprisingly, nothing had been taken, although his lab and personal offices had been thoroughly ransacked. Quanta’s post-cognition sense had revealed two intruders, in some sort of light armor including, unfortunately, full helmets – no chance for facial recognition, despite the recentness of the event. He had been able to follow their movements, however, from their arrival in a nondescript van at the rear loading dock to their interaction with the exterior security system.
“It must have been a very sophisticated virus or worm,” JJ growled, as he scanned through screen after screen of security coding. “It silenced the system, disabled the cameras, and opened every damn door in the building. Then is appears to have erased itself.”
“It’s interesting,” Quanta said, replaying the intruders movements through his friend’s lab and office oil his mind’s eye. “They moved very purposefully, like they knew where they were going, and they were very methodical in their searching. They must have been looking for something very specific, because they ignored a lot of potentially valuable stuff, JJ. I think they were on their way out when they encountered your poor security guard and shot him – I’ve never seen a weapon like that before – they hightailed it out of here very quickly after that.”
“But while they managed to temporarily cripple your security, John,” Artemis said from the nearby computer terminal where she’d been working for the last 15 minutes, “they didn’t think to disable the APD CCTV on the esplanade behind the building. Detective Ransom has sent over footage of the relevant time period, and I’ve got one good image…”
The single frame, frozen and enlarged, was blurry and indistinct, but it captured the face of one of the intruders, behind the glass faceplate of their strange suit. Not clear enough for facial recognition, true, but it was in full color… and the intruder’s face was blue. The very distinctive blue of an Atlantean…
• • •
“I said, you’re spending an awfully long time staring at that super model,” Nora repeated, throwing her balled up napkin at Kyle’s head to get his attention. With a start he looked up from her copy of Cosmopolitan that he’d been so engrossed in. “Do I have competition already? Should I be jealous?”
She’d spoken in a bantering tone, but underneath it Kyle could sense a hint of the old insecurities, and he responded in a matching light tone. “Dear god, I should hope not,” he laughed. “I do find Tara Brinks intriguing, but not in that way – the truth is, she reminds me very much of my mother. The resemblance is uncanny, really.” He turned the magazine around and pushed it across the breakfast table, open to the photo spread of the latest super model “it” girl.
“Oh!” Nora looked abashed, reddening a bit. “I didn’t – um, you’ve never talked about your mother before. Neither of your parents, actually. And you don’t have any pictures around.”
“Hmmm, no, I suppose not,” Kyle said, his smile fading a bit. “It’s not a conscious thing, really, I just don’t spare a lot of thought for the past, I guess.”
“Well, you talk about your grandparents, especially your grandmother, a fair amount,” Nora pointed out, pushing away her breakfast plate to rest her elbows on the table and drop her chin onto her folded hands. She gazed down at the images of the 21-year-old model. “So your mother really looked like this?”
“In general yes. The details vary, of course, it’s not like they’re twins or anything – but when I first saw that cover I did a double-take. I thought maybe they were doing a Lily Chapman retrospective or something. The resemblance really is startling!”
“Do you… miss your parents?” Nora asked, closing the magazine and turning it face-down amidst the remains of their breakfast.
“It’s been a long time,” Kyle sighed, sitting back and looking thoughtful, “and really my grandparents did most of the raising of me, even when my parents were alive. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my parents, and losing them hurt – I was 10, after all, when Dad died, and just 12 when Mom died. I have some good, even great, memories of them… but not nearly as many as I should have. I loved them, but the truth is, I don’t think they were ever really cut out for the parenting thing.”
“I know your mom was a model once,” Nora offered when he didn’t go on. “But I don’t really know what your dad did…?”
“Besides be rich? Not much. He had a BS in Geology, but he never seems to do much with it. Although I guess it did figure into whatever he was doing in Africa for Savage International when he died. And Mom was a SUPER model, thank you very much, a fact of which she was always quick to remind people.
“‘Which brings us back around to Miss Brinks here,” Kyle continued, flipping the magazine back over and gazing again at the cover close-up of the dark-haired beauty. “Apparently she’s going to be in Astoria soon — doing a major photoshoot as the new spokes-model for Revlon’s latest make-up line… which, if you knew my mother, you would understand was oddly, coincidentally hilarious. You see, she had this thing about Lauren Hutton and…”
• • •
Almost an hour into his evening patrol flight over the city, and Jonny was still mulling over the very unexpected conversation he’d had earlier that evening with his sort-of-step-sister Brittany McGreggor. The two had hardly exchanged a dozen words in their lives, but she had called him that afternoon to arrange a meet-up, claiming it “might prove worth your while.” He’d been so surprised at the idea, he’d suggested the Crash Pod Food Carts in Warrenton.
Brittany no longer looked exactly like her twin sister, of course, even discounting the shorter (and in Jonny’s option much better-looking) cut of her blond hair, since she wasn’t made of organic gold and over six feet tall. “Tiffany still hasn’t reverted to her normal self,” she’d sighed, picking at her Salad/Salad. “Even assuming she can revert, of course. But she seems pretty traumatized by everything, so maybe it’s just a defense mechanism?”
“You’ve seen your sister, then?” Jonny asked, still not entirely convinced this wasn’t some sort of McGreggor trap. He hadn’t touched his own sushi yet.
“Yes, if only behind glass. She… wasn’t very communicative. Which shouldn’t surprise me, I suppose. It’s not like we’ve spoken much these last five years. Dad really did a number on her, you know? The misogynistic bastard would’ve done the same to me, if I’d put up with it, but the day I turned 18 I was out of there. But Tiffany… I know you have no reason to love her, but I hope you can understand how fucked up she is… and maybe forgive her?”
“For the shit she pulled when I was a freshman in high school and she was a fifth year senior?” Jonny shrugged and popped a piece of dragon roll into his mouth. “Sure, it’s all water under the bridge now, so why not? But for this current shit she’s mixed up in, along with your father? I don’t think my feelings are going to make a damn bit of difference to what happens to her next.”
“No, I suppose not,” Brittany sighed again. “That’s not really why I asked to meet with you anyway. I really just wanted to apologize for the hell my family has put you and yours through over the years. I don’t remember my mother at all, of course, but I do remember yours, a bit. Most of my really good childhood memories come from the short time she was my step-mother. I was too young to know what was going on then, of course, but as I got older I never did buy Dad’s twisted version of what happened.
“He was obsessed for a time with finding out who your mother, um, cheated on him with. Sorry… I remember him going on about it sometimes, when he was drunk and pouring over this notebook in his office. Then, when we were about six, he just stopped. I don’t know why, but he never mentioned it again. Oh, he still bad-mouthed your mom, and you as you got older, but he never mentioned the matter of your father ever again that I remember.
“Frankly, I’d forgotten about it myself, until yesterday. I was going through Dad’s house, cleaning up after the police search and trying to find some clue of my own as to why Tiffany did what she did. The cops had taken most of Dad’s papers, of course, along with the computers, even his day books and calendars. But at the back of a drawer in an old desk, now in one of the guest rooms, I found this.”
She tossed a small, worn, black leather notebook, held closed by two yellowing rubber bands, onto the table next to his plate of sushi. He picked it up, glancing between her and it in puzzlement.
“It’s his old “find the bastard’s father” notebook,” she explained. “I glanced through it, there’s a lot of rubbish, a lot of ranting about your mother (you might want to skip those bits), a lot of dead ends. But the last several entries, the ones from just before he stopped cold, seem like he might be onto something. Or at least he thought so. I couldn’t make much of it myself, but I thought maybe it might make sense to you… I don’t know how much your mother told you…”
“About my father? Nothing. I think she planned to, once I was ready – or when she was ready, really – but she died before she got the chance.” It took all of Jonny’s will power not to tear the notebook open then and there, but he restrained himself and just slipped it into his jacket pocket. “Thank you for this, I’ll take a look at it later. It was… very nice of you, Brittany, to think of me. And for what it’s worth, I accept the apology… even if you aren’t really the one who owes it.”
She shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed, and they both concentrated on their food for awhile. Half an hour of awkward, stilted conversation later (the most interesting thing he learned was that Brittany was a junior field agent for the EPA – which must have been her sister’s inspiration for the lie she told Jane about herself), Jonny said he had to be on patrol soon, and the two parted company.
A quick trip back to the Pyramid to deposit the battered notebook in the safe in his private quarters, and now he was cruising the skies over Astoria with his mind on things other than crime. Until he flew out to the VTS refinery complex on Clatsop Spit that is, and his attention was jerked back onto his job by the suspicious figure lurking suspiciously in the shadows near the base of a chemical storage tower. Good, he thought, something I can take my feelings out on!
• • •
Preston saw the glowing blue figure in the sky before it saw him. For a moment he was paralyzed – there weren’t a lot of meta-human heroes in Calgary, and unlike the folks in New Atlantis and Astoria, he wasn’t used to seeing people just flying around. He felt like he should recognize this one, though… oh, of course! It must be the Blue Fla—
He saw the moment the hero noticed him, and barely turned his head away in time to avoid being blinded by the dazzling burst of brilliant blue-white light he released. Nonetheless, spots danced in his vision for a moment as he slipped closer into shadows around the foot of the ammonia tower. Well that was just rude! The guy couldn’t take a moment to say hi, maybe ask what was going on?
It was almost a knee-jerk reflex — Brimstone sent a blast of condensed molten sulfur upward. The burning elemental ball struck the Blue Flame center of mass, and passed clean through him. But while he might be insubstantial, apparently the sulfur interacted in some way with his plasma for, because he dropped a bit, and seemed momentarily confused.
The hero recovered quickly enough, and apparently decided the time for warning shots was past. A bolt of searing, blue-white plasma struck Preston square in the chest, and he staggered back, definitely feeling the heat even if it didn’t seem to do him any real harm. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to attack one of the city’s more popular heroes, he mused as he rubbed the warm patch on his chest. Especially in the middle of a very flammable chemical refinery…
So maybe he’d better try and end this quickly. Brimstone shifted into his cloud form with a thought, and rose as quickly as he could. Apparently taken by surprise at his transformation, Blue Flame hesitated a moment too long before trying to dodge and is engulfed in the roiling cloud of sulfuric gas that was now Brimstone’s body. Unfortunately, the hero apparently doesn’t breath – something Preston mentally kicked himself for not realizing sooner, it was obvious once you thought about it — and the Vapors didn’t have their usual effect on him. They did, however, react with the heat of his plasma form, and Brimstone was momentarily dispersed by the resulting explosion.
It only took a moment for him to pull himself together and re-solidify, now on top of the gantry deck covering three large tanks of liquid nitrogen. But the Blue Flame had used that moment to encase him in a cage of burning plasma. It was uncomfortable, but the glowing “bars” presented no physical barrier to him, and Brimstone shrugged through them quickly enough.
He saw then that the Blue Flame was coalescing back into his own human-shaped form just above the metal decking – close enough for a roundhouse punch, which Brimstone delivered with all his strength. His fist passed clean through the startled hero’s face, however, doing no more than rippling his features and making his own hand uncomfortably warm.
“Ok, I’m pretty sure we could both do this all night,” Brimstone said, stepping back and raising his hands. “Why don’t we call a truce and try this a different way? You’re the Blue Fame, right? One of the Vanguard.”
“That’s right, and I’ve called the rest of the team, they’ll be here any minute,” Jonny replied. He still looked suspicious, but at least seemed willing to not resume the fight. Brimstone would learn later that this was a complete bluff, since no comm unit which even Scion could build was able to withstand the temperatures of the kid’s plasma form.
“Well good, maybe they’ll be more open to listening, instead of attacking,” Brimstone growled. A bluff of his own, really, as he had no hope of taking on the entire Vanguard. Although it would be cool to meet them, especially Scion.
“Well, what did you expect,” the Blue Flame snorted, folding his arms across his chest and glaring down at Brimstone, “lurking around a closed chemical refinery in the middle of the night, looking like you do? I assumed you were one of the mutates VTS was creating and experimenting on… one we’d missed, or maybe one of their more successful ones, and working for them.”
“Working for VTS?” It was Brimstone’s turn to snort. “Me? You couldn’t be more off the mark if you were shooting at a white rabbit in a snow storm. I’m not one of those mutates you mentioned, but I sure as hell am the product of these bastards.” He waved a yellow crystalline hand toward the refinery, and by extension VTS. “More indirect, if I’m being honest, but still a result of corporate greed and incompetence, at least. Maybe more.
“Anyway, believe me, I’m here to scope out this facility, given what I’ve been reading about the program you and your team uncovered. I hoping to find something I can use to bring home their crimes to the men at the top, not just to their frontmen, lackeys and subsidiaries. I’m no friend to VTS.”
“So you were a victim of VTS’ experimental program too?” Jonny asked, unfolding his arms and drifting a little lower. “Were you hidden somewhere here, then, when we brought them down?”
“No, last year I was the victim of a “fatal” industrial accident at a VTS subsidiary in Calgary, where I worked. At least I think it was an accident, the result of poor equipment maintenance and short staffing, and not anything planned. But the question of how that weird crystal got into the sulfur vat does make me wonder, sometimes…”
“Blue Flame, what’s going on here,” an amplified voice boomed out of the sky above them, and Brimstone noticed the young hero jumped just as much as he did. Gliding down out of the night was the the instantly recognizable bronze and silver armor of Scion. The leader of the Vanguard came to a stop about ten feet off the platform and just a little higher than the other two men, in a very similar pose to the one Blue Flame had first taken, arms folded across his metal chest.
“Oh, wow, Captain Astor, it’s incredible to meet you,” Preston couldn’t stop himself from blurting out. “I’m a big fan sir!” Shit, did that sound too fan-boyish? He cringed inwardly, and unconsciously dropped his voice an octave. “The Blue Flame and I just had a little misunderstanding, but I think we’ve got it sorted now.”
If Scion noticed his, um, enthusiasm, he didn’t let it show, although he did drift over and actually touch down near his teammate. He gave the Blue Flame a subtle hand signal, and the other touched down as well, reverting to his human form. Jezze, he really is just a kid, Preston realized, probably half my own age.
“Well, I’m glad your little misunderstanding didn’t result in blowing up the refinery,” Scion said, his tone as much amused as annoyed. “You two set off every alarm in the facility, and the energy readings were – well, let’s just say there was a reason I got here so quickly. Blue Flame, would you care to introduced me to your new friend?”
“Oh, um, we hadn’t actually gotten to—“
“I’m Brimstone,” Preston said, saving the kid from his embarrassment. “Or at least that’s what the Calgary media started calling me, and I guess I’m sorta stuck with it now.”
To his surprise, Scion actually laughed out loud. “Well, I can certainly relate to that…” he held up one finger and was silent for a moment. “Mr. Riggs. You are Preston Riggs, of Calgary, Alberta, former employee of the now defunct SulfurWorkX, are you not?”
Preston took a step backward in his surprise, instinctively raising his hands as if to defend himself. He quickly dropped them again when he realized there wasn’t anything to defend against. Even his glass-like features must have registered his surprise, because Scion chuckled.
“I have access to practically every database on the planet,” he explained. “I also had my long-range microphones trained on you two from half a mile out, so I heard what you said to Blue Flame. It didn’t take much to put the pieces together — there weren’t that many industrial chemical accidents in Calgary last year, and only one apparent employee fatality.
“If I may offer a word of advice, Brimstone, if you want to keep a secret identity, it might be best if you don’t go around offering your origin story to just anyone you meet. But not to worry, your secret is safe with us; unless you go full supervillain, of course. Then all bets are off.”
“Um, well, thank you, I appreciate that, sir,” Brimstone said, now feeling like a complete idiot. He still had so much to learn about this business… he wondered if there was anyway he could wrangle an invitation to AzTech Pyramid and a chance to meet the rest of the Vanguard—
“But rather than stand around on top of several thousand gallons of liquid nitrogen, why don’t you come back to the Pyramid with us,” Scion suggested. “I’m sure the rest of the team would be fascinated to meet you, and it’s possible you might be able to tie in what you know about VTS with our own investigation.”
Sometimes, Preston thought with an inward grin, you roll double sixes instead of snake eyes…
• • •
The late night meeting Scion had called yesterday had proved to be worth the hassle, Chuck thought, as he tugged his skinny tie a little looser and checked the drape of his jacket in the mirror. It had been fascinating getting to know the newest hero in town, and he’d really felt for the guy — as much as he loved being Chilz, if he had been stuck in his ice form permanently he doubted he would’ve handled it half as well as Brimstone seemed to be.
And today the poor sod had spent half of it being debriefed by Scion and Artemis. As a reward, he’d been invited to join the entire team, minus the two on-duty members, to an evening of jazz at Mimoza’s celebrated Blue Note Room, hosted by Quanta. Chuck assumed they were able to get in on a Friday night only because of Artemis’ relationship with the nightclub’s infamous owner, “Diamond Dave” Dawson… although everyone was still trying to figure out the exact nature of that relationship.
Chilz had actually been on stand-by/monitor duty tonight, but Gideon had offered to swap with him, being an indifferent jazz fan himself and knowing how much Chuck loved it. So Phantom Ace would remain at the Pyramid with Paragon to handle whatever crisis might arise, while the rest of the Vanguard enjoyed some hot licks in their civilian identities.
Brimstone, or Preston as he’d better think of him tonight, had been reluctant to accept the invitation at first. Not out of dislike of the music, but because he didn’t think his (admittedly, um, startling) appearance would go over well in public. But Quanta had insisted, and Scion had offered a solution. During the afternoon JJ had whipped up a new image inducer, similar to the one he and Quanta had devised last year to allow Kyle to go out with his non-secret-identity teammates without risking his own.
This one was keyed to Brimstone’s unique specs, of course, and it only had the one setting (which apparently resembled, but did not precisely match, his original human appearance); JJ assured the visibly effected man that he could program other looks later, when they had more time. Brimstone had accepted both the gift and the invitation with profuse thanks.
Chuck had been a little reluctant himself to go tonight, truth be told, despite his love of jazz – after all, the last time he’d been at Mimoza he’d been inter-dimensionally kidnapped from the bathroom by his biological father and forced to fight three giant warriors in aid of some ancient prophecy. But the Blue Note Room was underground, in a different part of the huge building, and shared neither entrances nor restrooms with the main nightclub. He figured he’d be safe enough, especially with almost the entire team around him.
Unfortunately, his optimism would prove to be unfounded.
An hour after the group’s arrival, when they were met by Diamond Dave himself, who not only personally seated them but joined them, Chuck needed a bio-break. The Charlie Porter Quintet were taking their first break, and he took the opportunity to slip away quietly to find the restroom. Of course Jonny couldn’t just let him go, calling out “Don’t get sucked into any inter-dimensional portals while you’re peeing!”
Chuck was still shaking his head at his embarrassing friend as he stepped through the men’s room door… and onto a windy, snow-covered hill overlooking a frozen lake, freezing rain stinging his face…
