"Things Change"
Chapter Three: "Choices and Closure"
by Michael O'Connell
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Previously... After crime and villainy spiraled out of control in San Francisco, Sydney Todd-Strange, head of UNCLE San Francisco and the former Forte heroine Mist, decided on a bold new solution...the creation of a new hero team. Traveling around the country and surprising her chosen candidates with the offer, Sydney attempted to recruit several former teammates, and one new face, to the team. With disheartening results at best. Mark Spires--Anvil--had politely told her he would think about it, but it was clear he had no desire to return to the life that had caused him so much tragedy. Harry Sullivan--Nightshift--also was happy with her choice for retirement, and turned Sydney down, choosing to continue running her unique security company, Nightwatch Solutions. A mysterious and possibly dangerous girl named Shannon Dwyer--Heatspell--who apparently has a past with Sydney and her husband--Sorcerer Supreme Stephen Strange--gave no definite answer to the surprising offer either. And Bobby McMillan--the current Forte member Max--seemed very reluctant to leave Seattle and the latter-day incarnation of the team he'd helped found. Sydney returned home to San Francisco, disappointed, and less than a week later one of her agents--Victor Brace--was killed fighting a super-villain. Sydney was suspended from UNCLE duty for a week after an angry call to superiors in Washington over manpower and resource shortages. A meeting was held to discuss the idea of replacing her as the San Francisco commander. But, as it turned out, no one else seemed to want the job...
June, 2005
“It’s been three weeks since my last confession.” “Go ahead, child.” “I’ve used profanity on many occasions. I’ve had carnal thoughts. About men. “I’ve…had relations outside of wedlock, with a man. But, I mean, we’ve broken up since then, so… That’s over with. But, still… “I’ve…committed acts of violence. Against evil men.” “I’m aware, Shannon. I do read the papers.” “Oh.” “They were men who deserved justice?” “Yes. All.” “But…you enjoyed it. Again.” “… “Yes.” “And this still frightens you?” “Yes, father.” “Well that it should. I would be more concerned if it did not. Are you thinking of your father when you’re committing these acts?” “Sometimes.” “But not all.” “No.” “So when it’s not about him, where does the enjoyment come from?” “I…I don’t know.” “I think you do. And you’re right to be frightened. You’re doing wonderful things for this city, Shannon. There’s no question of that. You’re quite popular in this very parish. And there’s not a doubt within me that your heart is in the right place. But you can’t keep doing this.” “I have to, father.” “You don’t. We always have choices.” “I don’t.” “You do.” “It’s not that simple.” “It truly is. I promise you.” “I have so much to atone for.” “You do NOT. Your father’s sins are not yours, child. Why do you carry them? Why do you think this burden is yours? You can stop. You can walk away. You’re so young, and you can get on with your own life and find peace.” “That won’t stop the dreams.” “… “Are they getting worse?” “Yes. But only when I’m not…doing what I’m doing.” “I think you’re taking the wrong message from that. You cannot do the work of angels with the tools of the Devil, Shannon. Your motives are true. But it’s wrong. I’ve told you time and again. You must let go.” “I can’t. Not until it’s finished.” “And when will it be finished?” “When I’ve found him.” “And that will end it?” “Yes. I…yes.” “And what will you do when you find him?” “…” “Do you fear to answer that?” “I fear that you don’t want to hear my answer.” “Retribution is the Lord’s domain, Shannon. Not yours. All the good works you’ve done, none of it will matter if you take that path.” “What if it’s a path I can’t escape?” “Choices, child. We always, always have choices.” “…” “Shannon?” “I have…another choice to make, father. A big one.” “Tell me.” “You won’t like it.” “That’s not what’s important here. Tell me. It’s all right.” “I’ve had an offer.” “All right. What kind of offer?” “I’ve been asked to move to California.” “California?” “Not so much…me. Heatspell has. I’ve been asked to join a team there. A hero team. In San Francisco.” “San Francisco.” “I warned you.” “After all you went through there?” “I know. Yes.” “So this has to do with the sorcerer, then?” “No. Well…with his wife.” “The super-hero.” “Yes. She’s asked for my help. The city’s in very dire need. She’s starting a new team, and she wants me on it. She trusts me, father.” “Knowing everything she knows about your father? What you’ve been through? She still asks?” “She’s tried to stop me all along. They both have. But she realizes I’m going to do it anyway. And I think she…well, I think they…both want to keep an eye on me. So part of me thinks this is just some excuse to keep me under their thumb. But I’ve read about what’s going on. A man…an UNCLE agent…just died there. He died fighting a villain. He shouldn’t have had to. The city needs heroes now. She thinks I can help. I think she’s right.” “If she truly knows you and what you’re going through, then she’s not trusting you, Shannon. She’s using you.” “She’s not. She believes in me.” “I believe in you, child. That doesn’t mean I’ll ignore what’s best for you.” “I think this IS what’s best for me, father.” “It sounds like you’ve already made your decision.” “I think I have. I think just now.” “Shannon, don’t you see? This will only makes things worse. Back there, where it all began? And taking this kind of leap. It makes it all the harder for you to stop. You’re being drawn further and further into this madness. If you do this—” “I’m sorry, father. I’m so sorry.” “Shannon. Child—” “I’ll miss you. And your guidance. And your good heart. And I promise, I won’t forget you, and what you’ve taught me. It will always be with me. I won’t let you down.” “Shannon, please—” “Goodbye, father.” “Shannon, wait. Please, don’t— “Shannon? “Shannon?” Father McKie stepped quickly from the confessional, swinging the door open, and looked around. There was no sign of Shannon Dwyer, nowhere inside St. Monica’s. She was gone. His heart could still feel the pang of the sound of the tears in her voice. He closed his eyes and wiped at a tear of his own, and held the confessional door, feeling suddenly quite heavy. He opened his reddened eyes and looked toward the open doors at the church entrance that faced Devine Way, where outside, the mid-day summer sun was patiently cooking the whole of South Boston. “Go in peace, Shannon,” he whispered. “And God go with you.”
A summer storm had just rolled over, and the rain had finally stopped, and droplets of water clinging to the living room window of Bobby McMillan’s apartment left the only evidence of its passing. Bobby sat quietly at his desk, in front of his computer. There was a stack of training manuals he’d brought home from work—from his job at Emerald Metro Solutions, where he’d just made Programmer II—sitting next to his PC, but he hadn’t opened any of them. Instead, he sat staring at the screen, having been unable to take his eyes away, for more than a few minutes, from the photo there. The photo was part of an article from the San Francisco Chronicle Online. The photo was of Agent Victor Brace. UNCLE agent. Dead at twenty-seven. He stared into the man’s eyes, eyes that no longer looked on this world, and tried to imagine the life that had been taken from him. A wife. Two children. A career he’d chosen that put him in harm’s way every day, all because he believed in helping people. He probably could’ve chosen lots of things to do with his life. He could have had a safe office job, like Bobby’s. Working at a desk all day. He could have sold insurance. He could have sold cars. But something about him made him decide that the risk was worth doing what he did…doing what he felt was right. Protecting normal people from all the bad people out there. And one of those bad people, one that he had no chance of stopping but stood against anyway, ended his life without a thought. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Good people deserved to have good things happen to them. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He looked away for a moment, toward the window, and finally noticed that the rain had stopped, and wondered when that had happened. But soon, his eyes were back on the screen again. Back on Victor Brace again. Back on the face of a true hero.
“Bobby,” Jared said, opening the door the whole way. “Come on in.” Jared had known it was Bobby before opening the door, of course, as he had security cameras at the locked gate and had buzzed Bobby in. “Are you sure?” Bobby asked. “It’s kind of late, I know—” “Not at all,” Jared said, stepping back. “Come on.” Bobby stepped inside the boat, and immediately saw Jared’s twelve-year old son (thirteen in just a couple of months, if Bobby remembered right), Gabriel, on the couch in the main salon, with a videogame controller for his Questech Infinity system in his hands. He sat facing Jared’s large flatscreen, and the sounds of battle were booming out of the surround speakers. The boy’s cane was leaning on the couch next to him. “Hey, Bobby,” Gabriel said happily, looking over for just a moment and then quickly focusing back on the screen. “Hey, Gabe,” Bobby grinned, as Jared closed the door behind him. He stepped inside and checked out the expansive screen. “No way! Is that War Almighty?” “Yep,” Gabe answered, proudly. “Johnny got Dad an early copy for me.” “Sweet!” “Perks of knowing the company owner,” Jared said, dropping back on the couch next to Gabriel and mussing his son’s hair. “Of course, the neighbors are going to call the cops on us for the noise any minute. But, come on, is it really war if it’s not loud?” Bobby laughed, then stood there and watched the spectacle on the screen for a moment. “Have a seat,” Jared offered him. “Um,” Bobby said, looking to him. “Actually, I was wondering…if we could…talk real quick?” “Yeah,” Jared said, taking just a moment to read his friend’s face. “Sure, let’s hit the sundeck.” He rubbed Gabriel’s head and stood up. “Want a beer?” “Okay,” Bobby said. And Jared, almost imperceptibly, did an ocular double-take. He always asked, but Bobby rarely took him up on the offer, and when he did, it was usually after a few moments of consideration. He’d never answered that question quite so quickly. Jared hit the kitchen and grabbed a couple of Amber Ales from the Bear Creek Brewing Company in Redmond out of the fridge, then quickly stepped past the TV set to avoid blocking Gabriel’s view for more than a moment. “We’re going up top, kiddo,” he told his son. “Be back in a bit, okay?” “Okay, Dad.” “But if you hit that next level, you call up, all right?” “Okay.” He slapped Bobby on the shoulder and led the way. “Come on.”
“It’s a videogame now,” Jared said, lighting a cigarette. “You believe that?” “Guess that is kind of weird,” Bobby said, not having really thought about it much. “Not really,” Jared said, exhaling and setting his Zippo down. “Standard rule of war. If it’s a war you win, you get to make a videogames and movies. It’s not bad taste. It’s patriotism. And hey, that was a war the whole planet won, so who’s going to bitch, right?” Bobby nodded in agreement, taking a drink from his beer. The Saoshyant invaders probably weren’t going to be suing for insensitivity, and their god, the Almighty, destroyed by 1992’s Forte, certainly wasn’t going to have much to say about it. “I was still a uniformed cop then,” Jared remembered, quietly. “Not even four years on the force. Been married less than three months. And suddenly, the Earth’s invaded, all the power goes out, the world goes dark, planes start dropping out of the sky and aliens start ‘assimilating’ people. Not something they train you for. God, it was chaos. That first night. New Year’s Eve, no less.” “What did you do?” Bobby asked, suddenly respectfully fascinated. Jared shrugged. “What we all did. Tried to help. Tried to get people to safety, wherever that hell that was. People need to see uniforms at a time like that. They need to think someone’s in charge. We had no radios, so we were on our own for a while until we started grouping up and started a system of passing messages. And all this with me not knowing if Stephanie was safe. Or even alive.” “Wow,” Bobby said, awed. “That must have been…you must have been going nuts.” “That’s the word,” Jared said, taking a swig of ale. “Hey, we all wanted to get home to our families, but you don’t get to make that choice in a crisis when you wear the badge. It was two straight days before I got to head to my side of town. Had a steal a bike and ride the whole way. And there she was, still at home. Never been more religious in my life than I was at that moment. Probably never loved her more than right then.” Bobby couldn’t think of anything to say to that that wouldn’t sound lame. “At least Gabriel wasn’t born for another year and a half. It’s all just a videogame to him. And I’m glad. He didn’t have to go through any of that.” He stopped and looked over at Bobby. “Jesus, Bobby, what were you? Ten? Eleven?” “Nine,” Bobby said. “God,” he said. “You must have been scared out of your mind.” Bobby nodded. “I was. I was in bed already. My parents,” he said, speaking of his foster parents, Karen and Hannibal Black, “woke me up once they knew something was really wrong, and told me to get dressed. I could tell they were pretty freaked out, and that freaked me out, too. Then we started seeing the ships. And hearing the artillery. I was sure I had to still be sleeping and just dreaming it all. But it wasn’t a nightmare you could wake up from, I guess. We stayed in the house. My Dad kept going out into the street and trying to talk to other people to get news. No one knew anything, though. They were just making stuff up, or repeating rumors they heard. I remember he made us pack a few things, in case we had to leave. “Finally, the next day, in the late afternoon, a group of UNCLE troops came marching through. We were one of the first neighborhoods, I think. I’ll never forget those guys. The uniforms. How tall they looked to me. How calm. They were taking people to shelters. In wagons. You believe that? Horse-drawn wagons.” “I remember,” Jared said, listening. “Which shelter?” “Seattle Center Coliseum.” “The big one.” “Yeah. Lot of people. My Dad didn’t think it was such a great idea, with all we kept hearing about the assimilation stuff, having all those people in one place. But I felt safe. My Dad was there to take care of me. The military was there protecting us. And there were always at least a couple of UNCLE agents on site. I mean, that’s…what really made me feel safe. To me, back then, those guys were as good as Forte. They were super-heroes, man. Indestructible. It was after that I decided I wanted to be one.” “I didn’t know that.” “Yeah, every Halloween after that, I was in an UNCLE uniform. Had UNCLE posters on my wall. I learned everything I could about them. There was like this fan club back then? You signed up off an ad on the back of comic books. I was a junior UNCLE agent.” Jared laughed lightly. “Sounds like a B-Movie.” “Yeah,” Bobby laughed back. Then he got quiet, took another drink of his beer, and looked out at the night. “What’s on your mind, Bobby?” Jared asked, figuring the time was right to do so. Bobby didn’t answer right away, but kept looking out from the boat. Soon he looked down at the deck, and then finally up to the patiently waiting Jared. “I’m gonna do it,” he said, then took in a breath, then sighed with something that might have been relief. Or just fatigue. Jared studied him, realizing immediately what he was talking about. “Are you serious?” Bobby nodded. Jared put out his cigarette, leaned back in his chair, and exhaled himself, scratching the back of his head absently. “Wow.” “Yeah,” Bobby acknowledged, leaning back himself, suddenly seeming quite tired. “I’m…not quite sure what to say here. I mean…honestly, I didn’t think… “What made you…?” “Agent Victor Brace.” Jared nodded solemnly. “Terrible thing. I know that must have been tough on Sydney. I’ve been there. Fellow officers. It’s never easy. Never makes sense.” “It never should have happened,” Bobby said. “Those guys, man, they’re…they’re the best. Look at our UNCLE guys. I’ve never…you know…told any of them, but when I’m around them, I feel like that kid again. Like it’s Halloween and I’m just playing at it but they’re the real thing. The real heroes.” Jared grinned a little. “I think if you’d ask them who their hero is, you’d run face-first into a big wall of irony.” “They can’t do it alone in that town anymore, Jared. I’m not a kid anymore, and I know they’re not invincible. They need help. And Sydney and Kyle can’t do it alone anymore. I really think…I need to do this.” They sat quietly together, both looking out at the night, both continuing the drink their beers. “I understand,” Jared finally said. “And I respect the choice. You’re doing it for all the right reasons. But then, you always have, Bobby.” Bobby smiled weakly at that, not really in the right place for accepting a compliment. “Damn,” Jared said, shaking his head, and leaned forward. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel here.” “That makes two of us.” Jared got suddenly very serious. “You’re my partner, Bobby. I want you to understand what that means to me, coming from where I started. I’ve had a few, but… You and me, we started this thing together. With Lucy and Davis, yeah. But at the start, I mean, you know…neither of them really wanted to be heroes. You and me, we were the ones who’d been doing it for a while. Not to say we really knew what we were doing back then either.” “Yeah,” Bobby laughed, sentimentally, remembering. “I counted on you then. And I kept counting on you and I still count on you. I’ve had partners before all this, yeah, but the things you and I have done and seen… The things we’ve been through… It turns out I never really understood what partners meant until I put on the armor. You’ve saved my life, Bobby. Many times. I’ve always known you’ve had my back. I’ve never had to question it. We’ve done good, good things. For the city, for the world. And we’ve done it together. And I know I couldn’t have done any of it without you there.” Bobby swallowed hard, very literally speechless. “And if you feel you have to do this, and if you feel it’s the right thing… Then I’m happy for you. And I’m proud of you. I’ve watched you turn from rookie to pro, right along with the rest of us, but I’m very serious when I say you definitely ended up the best of us. They have no idea—yet—how lucky they just got getting you.” Still unable to move, Bobby swallowed again, and felt a tear leak from the corner of one eye. “But God damnit, kid,” Jared said, grinning sadly. “I’m gonna miss you.” Jared stretched out his arm and offered his hand to Bobby. Bobby clasped it in their usual manly football-buddy fashion. Then Jared stood up, Bobby joined him, and the manly shake was followed by a not-so-usual manly hug. “Dad!” Gabriel shouted from below. “I’m in the mother ship!” Laughing quietly in his usual through-the-nose manner, Jared patted Bobby’s shoulders heavily, signaling the end of the hug, and Bobby did the same. As Bobby stepped back, he had to wipe his nose and eyes. “We’ll be down in a minute, kiddo,” Jared called down. Bobby took and blew out a deep breath and sniffed hard, collecting himself. “Anybody else know?” Jared asked. “You’re the first. I actually didn’t decide until like an hour ago.” “Team meeting? I could call Sam, she could grab everybody. We could order pizza and get piss drunk.” “Nah,” Bobby said, shaking his head. “It’s late. Maybe tomorrow? It’s just gonna be hard, and I want to think of what I’m gonna say, and I still have a lot to work out in my head…” “Hey, whatever you need. I’ll keep a lid on it. You just tell me when. We’ll make it happen.” “How about sometime next year?” Bobby laughed painfully. “You wouldn’t hear me complaining,” Jared grinned back. “And hey, if there’s anything I can do to help. With that, with any of the arrangements, whatever. I’m here. You know that, right?” “I always know that,” Bobby said quietly, breaking unconsciously into his winning smile. Jared smiled back and clapped his soon-to-be-former partner’s shoulder again. “You want to go watch my kid kick the shit of the known universe?” “Yeah,” Bobby nodded. “Yeah, I do.” They headed back down to the salon and watched a masterful Gabriel wage an epic battle against the forces of galactic evil. With a couple of restarts after unfortunate demises. That was fine. As far as Bobby knew, there was no rule written anywhere that said heroes shouldn’t get a chance to start over.
Mark Spires sat in his bed, shirtless and wearing worn pajama pants, with a couple of pillows propped behind his back and a Louis L’Amour paperback in his hands. He’d developed a keen interest in the writer ever since his own time-travel journey back to the old west as Anvil. He was currently working his way through “Under the Sweetwater Rim”, and found himself, again, mentally correcting small details as he read. L’Amour was good, no doubt, but the man hadn’t actually BEEN there. Mark had, and perhaps the pleasure in that insider superiority was one of the reasons he enjoyed these novels so much. It was closing on nine-thirty p.m. on another hot Ohio summer night, and next to him in their king-sized bed, his wife, Erin O’Day-Spires, private detective and stunning redhead, was sitting cross-legged, wearing a Notre Dame tee shirt and resting her laptop on her bare legs. She had files spread all over the bed around her, and was deeply engaged in whatever was on her screen, piped in through their wireless network. “Oh no,” she suddenly said with a gasp. “What?” Mark asked, peering over. She turned her head to him and gave him the wry smile he loved so much. “I think this man might be cheating on his wife.” “No!” Mark said, comically flabbergasted, giving a grunt of shocked disbelief. She smiled mischievously at him and went back to her computer. “I swear, someone has released a chemical in the water supply that makes husbands dumber.” “Me…no…understand…” he said in a caveman monotone, going back to his book. “Present company excluded, of course,” she was kind of enough to add with a grin. He grinned, too, turning a page and continuing to shadow the exploits of Lt. Tenadore Brian and his quest to find the hijacked wagon and the kidnapped Major’s daughter (not to mention the sixty thousand dollars in gold). Erin went back to her web business. Soon, though, Mark realized his mind was not actually 200 miles west of Fort Laramie. He found himself having to go back and re-read paragraphs that he’d managed to just gloss right over, reading without actually reading. He finally realized it was going nowhere. Not for the first time lately, his mind was heavily occupied with something else. “Hey, honey?” he said, still pretending to be focused on his book. “Mmm hmm?” she responded through the pen that was clutched between her teeth. “Say, you remember those trips we used to take to San Francisco? You know, back at the start?” “Uh huh,” she smiled (having removed the pen), still looking at her screen. “I certainly do.” “Those were nice, weren’t they?” “Those were VERY nice,” she said, and her smile grew wider, though she kept her eyes on her computer. “Yeah, I thought so, too,” he said, nodding and turning a page. After nothing further came from him, she said, “Okay…” and went back to typing. He shifted a little, still trying to keep up the reading guise. Finally he said, “It’s a really nice city, isn’t it? San Francisco.” “Yeah,” she agreed. “Wonderful place.” “Lots of…you know. Just, a lot going on there. Lots to do.” “This is true,” she said, making a confused and slightly suspicious face. “But, you like it, right?” he asked. “Yes,” she said, growing more suspicious. “I think it’s a fine city. And why do you ask?” “No reason,” he said, completely chickening out right on the precipice. He tried to sound casual. “Just wondering.” He turned another page, not thinking that it was much to soon since the last turn to be believable. She turned her head to him and narrowed her green eyes, studying him. He pretended not to notice her in his peripheral vision and, crappy secret agent that he was, turned another page. “Mark?” she said, using her wife voice that gave him a nervous tingle up his spine. “Hmm?” he said, nonchalantly, fake-reading away. Erin closed her laptop, set it down on the bed in front of her, reached over, grabbed his paperback from him and flung it over her shoulder. Its spine hit the wall with a sharp thud and it dropped to the carpet. Mark looked down at his empty hands, blinking, then looked past her toward the fallen novel, a bit forlornly, realizing he had no idea what page number he’d been on. Even before he started faking. “Mark,” she said again, leveling her eyes on his. “What’s going on?” He thought about clinging to ignorance, but realized that she was both his wife AND a detective, which was really unfair on many levels. And her look told him any further attempts would not make for a happy evening. He sighed, straightened himself out, and turned onto his side, bending his elbow and resting his head on his hand. Falling into cue, Erin quickly moved a couple of files just out of the way, laid down on her own side, close to him, and watched his face, waiting. “So,” he began, feeling the nervous tension suddenly pulling his shoulders toward the center of his back, “you remember how I told you Sydney stopped by while you were out of town…?”
“Gooood morning, Mousketeers.” Harry Sullivan walked into the conference room of the executive offices of Nightwatch Solutions (a company she happened to be the C.E.O. and owner of), dressed in dark slacks and a wide-collared button-down blouse. The stylish jacket that went with the ensemble was still hanging on the rack in her spacious office with the amazing river view, as it was summer in Chicago. No clients would be dropping in today to necessitate donning the extra threads. Just her and the peanut gallery today. A group that hadn’t seen each other in a week. “Hey, welcome home,” the devilishly handsome Peter Delles, with his short-cropped hair and sculpted stubble (and his disarming boyish charm), said, looking at his watch. “Look who’s right on ‘I’m-the-boss-so-what-are-they-gonna-do-fire-me’ time.” “And you can commence biting me…” Harry said, walking past his spot at the table and looking at her own watch. She raised a finger, kept looking at her watch for three more seconds, and said, “…Now.” “I could stage a hostile takeover, you know,” he grinned. “Ooh,” Nina Alden, seated across from him said, “so the bookies are going to be giving your money BACK, then?” Nina was a drop-dead adorable blonde with loads of curly locks, hired largely in part because of her being a brilliant young woman who played the harmless dumb blonde to perfection. That, and many other unique skills. Peter twisted his mouth. “Can I get a touché?” “Touché,” Derek Coombs, the mid-30s black man with stylishly wild hair, seated next to Nina, said helpfully, not looking up from his laptop. Harry took her seat at the head of the table. “No Toby?” “Toby’s A.D.D. kicked in,” Tabitha Procter, the brown-haired British woman, somewhere in her thirties (no one knew exactly…except Harry) with a penchant for black clothing and David Bowie collectibles via eBay, said, sipping her coffee she'd purchased from the stand downstairs. “He’s back in his cave.” Harry rolled her eyes and reached for the Nextel that sat on its charger in front of her. Using the walkie-talkie feature, she held down the send button and said, “Oh, Toby? Will you be joining us?” “Oh, I’m sorry,” a very sarcastic voice answered back. “Are we actually STARTING now?” “And you can shut your Canadian pie-hole and get your ass in here…” Again, she checked her watch appraisingly, waited four seconds this time, and said, sweetly, “…Now.” With that, she put the phone back in its cradle. “Good week with long nights I hope?” Nina asked her boss with a couple of jumps of her eyebrows. “All business related, sad to say,” Harry grinned. “Had to wine and dine Mr. Hironaka and entourage in L.A.” “Young and pretty entourage?” Nina asked. “Old and balding entourage,” Harry answered. “Sorry.” “Hope you used the gold card,” Derek said, still not looking up from the Excel file he was viewing. “Even got you a valet parking receipt, Derek.” “You’re learning.” “I knew you’d be pleased,” she smiled in a pleasantly patronizing way. “More importantly,” Peter said, looking at Derek with some distaste, “and how could anything NOT be…how did it play? Are we gonna be big in Japan?” “Looking that way. I think I impressed.” “Yes!” Peter said, making a fist and jerking back with his elbow. “Summer in Tokyo.” “More like Halloweenish in Tokyo,” she said. “Who cares? It’s Tokyo. Been WAY too long.” “Think maybe that price on your head has expired by now?” Nina asked him. Peter eyed her thoughtfully. “You’re SAUCY this morning.” “I’m saucy EVERY morning,” she smiled, seductively. “Not that you’ll ever find out.” “Hey,” he said, pointing at her and looking at Harry. “Doesn’t that count as sexual harassment?” “It’s not sexual harassment if you’re told you’re never GETTING the sex,” Tabitha said. “So I imagine you’ve been non-harassed quite a bit in your life.” Toby Wincott walked into the room at his usual (and perpetual) quick pace. Unlike the otherwise stylish and visually pleasing employees of Nightwatch, Toby bordered close to the definition of ‘frumpy’. Nearing forty, slightly receding, and needing to lose maybe just five or ten pounds at any given time, Toby made up for his lack of model-quality with his equal lack of social skills. “Toby,” Peter asked. “Isn’t it sexual harassment to tease someone with sex they’re not gonna get?” “I’m glad I rushed over,” Toby said, looking at Harry with his usual air of annoyance and taking a seat next to Peter. “I can see we’re in the middle of one of our deep, meaningful meetings.” “Hey, speaking of meetings,” Harry said, leaning forward. “Now that Toby’s here, what do you say we go ahead and have one?” “I’ve got nowhere else to be,” Peter shrugged. “Definitely not somewhere having any sex, that’s been made clear.” “Welcome back from our little time apart, one and all,” the boss said. “I hope everyone had a pleasant and productive week. We will get to that shortly. “So as I began saying, Tokyo is looking good for the fall. Hironaka International is branching into all kinds of new, expensive and proprietary goodies, and that’s putting them on the big rob-me radar. If I hear back from them with a thumbs-up, which I think I will, then we’ll be robbing them blind in time for trick-or-treats. And billing them handsomely for it.” “Hear, hear,” Derek nodded. “What kind of goodies?” Toby asked, sitting up in his chair and suddenly not so rushed to leave the meeting. “Down, boy,” Tabitha said. Toby was their resident tech and science expert, not-so-boyish genius and all-around nerd. “I’m just saying, do we know what we’re going in for? When you say branching, are they stepping away from tech and getting into bio? Are we talking government contracts, are there—” “Full details will be forthcoming,” Harry said, holding up her hand to him. “But,” she said, looking at Derek, “it never hurts to get a little ahead of the game. Feeling like giving their network a test-run on the low-low, Mr. Coombs? See what’s on the horizon in the rising sun?” Derek nodded. “I’ll get on that.” “Look for new acquisitions, look for new departments recently green-lit,” Toby said quickly to Derek. “Check into off-site research expenditures, overtures toward any new patents—” “Hey, hey, kid-on-Christmas-morning guy,” Peter interrupted. “Take your meds. You know we have to give back the stuff we steal, right?” “Of COURSE I know that,” Toby said back to him, with attitude. “But if we’re going to be lifting any new-end tech, it just makes sense to learn as much about it as possible before we go in, and if we get our hands on it for a while…” His cleared his throat and his tone calmed. “…that doesn’t mean we can’t…take it apart. Study it. Clone it.” “Yes, that would be good for business,” Nina sighed. “We lay hands on the Hironaka Wonder Widget, and just before it hits the market, the remarkably similar TobyCorp Wonder Widget shows up on store shelves.” “That’s not,” he grunted, making a very adolescent face at her, “what I’m talking about, NINA. I’m talking about seeing what’s beneath, what’s behind the designs, the art in the engineering. Products come and go, but it’s the innovation and the interconnected ideas behind them that change the world.” “You want to change the world now?” she asked him, amused. “And here I thought you just wanted to rip it off.” “That is NOT accurate,” he said hotly, pointing at her, “and NOT fair, Nina.” Peter shook his head and tisked. “Looks like no sex for you either. You HAD it man. There was a vibe going. And you lost your cool and just threw it away…” “Hey. Little Rascals,” Harry said. “Can we get back on the boat that’s actually going somewhere?” “Fine with me,” Toby huffed, throwing up a hand. Nina just grinned. The girl knew buttons. And Toby’s was his criminal past. Not that they all didn’t have one. But Toby’s was the one that had ended spectacularly and comically, ended him up in BRAND custody and staring at a very long prison stretch. Before Harry had used her connection with a certain head of BRAND to get him on her team. “Let’s table Japan until we know we’re going there, and until Derek peeks in their underwear drawer. I’m more interested in something a little more Middle Eastern.” “Oh, yes,” Peter said. “By all means. Let’s spend our summer in Jordan. Very nice weather there this time of year. If you’re SATAN.” “Where are we at?” she said, ignoring Peter, and starting with Nina. “Well, as Scepter Ventures was nice enough to trust their security to our friends at Chevalier…” “Ah, those wacky French,” Peter said. “…I spent my week in Paris.” “You were in Paris?” Peter asked, dumbfounded. “Yes.” “In this past week? Paris?” “Yes. If I can continue? “So I tracked down one of their new VPs, Gerard Bontecou. Young up-and-comer, ruggedly handsome, wealthy family, miserable marriage. Dines alone at Ambassade D'Auvergne every Friday night, where he looks for female company.” “And you learned all this…?” Peter asked. “Please,” Nina snorted, then went on. “So knowing his taste for young girls, I showed up as a Swedish student, lonely in the city of lights on her first night there. He was more than willing to show me all the sights, give me the big romantic tour, while I was all wide-eyed and overcome with the grandeur.” “Tell me there was no sex,” Peter winced. “Tell me the French did not get the sex.” “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased cruelly. “When you took your bra off, did he immediately throw up his hands and surrender?” Peter grinned. “Oh PLEASE find the track again,” Harry sighed. Nina shook her head at Peter and continued. “So got him talking about his business, acted all fascinated because, naturally, my major was international business. I managed to talk him into showing me where he works.” “Nice,” Tabitha nodded, sipping coffee. “We had drinks in his office, which impressed me to no end, as Swedish business students are very aroused by men of corporate power. Unfortunately, an untimely wine spill on my dress interrupted the moment and made me have to find the little femme de carrieres’ room. Which is a surprisingly short crawl though the electrical accessway to the CEO’s office.” “How did you keep from sooting up your dress?” Tabitha asked. “Had to leave the dress behind.” “Ah.” “Wait,” Derek said, glancing over at her. “You were in your underwear when you called me?” “You called HIM?” Peter asked, offended. “I needed Derek to help me crack the intranet, get into the high-end files. And we had to do it fast, too, as you can only put off a horny VP for so long with the bathroom excuse.” “See?” Peter said to Derek. “That’s why your first question to any woman on the phone should always be ‘what are you wearing?’. That way, you never have to wonder.” “And you cracked it okay?” Harry asked. “No sweat,” Nina smiled, rubbing Derek’s shoulder proudly. “Got everything I needed downloaded to a flash drive, scampered back up into the ceiling, made it back just as he started knocking.” “And how did you ditch Mr. French?” Peter asked. “Or did you?” he added sleazily. Nina shook her head sadly. “Unfortunately, just when things were getting interesting, I spotted the picture of his wife on his desk. I was devastated. I’m a very traditional Swedish girl, you know. I was tempted, because I’d never met a man quite like him…” She started replaying her tearful reaction for them, which was flawless, complete with accent. “But I just couldn’t go through with it. I just broke down. An emotional—how do you say?—basket case. He finally had to drive me back to my hotel. If only we’d met in a different life.” “Well,” Peter said. “You’ll always have Paris.” “Nice work,” Harry smiled. “Thank you,” Nina smiled back. “Got the whole Scepter file, uploaded it to Derek. It was too easy. I spent the rest of the week in Rome. Had a great time.” She looked back to Peter and said in a near-whisper, “LOTS of sex.” Peter answered her with a low growl and a theatrical icy glare. “And what did we get, Derek?” Harry asked, turning to her master hacker and administrator. “Complete schematics, invoices, equipment specs, designer notes…basically everything but a welcome mat.” “Beautiful,” Harry said, smiling widely. “But, there was a catch.” “Uh, oh,” she said, her smile waning. “Yeah. There were some off-site files attached to all this. And when I say high-level encryption, I’m not properly describing what we’re talking about. I mean highest level. Sack-retracting kind of scary.” Harry’s eyes got wide. “The plot thickens,” she said, unapologetically intrigued. “It’s worse than you think. After some careful checking? This is SHIELD encryption.” Her jaw dropped. “Oh, shit.” “That’s the word.” “What is a French security firm working for a Jordanian company doing partnering with SHIELD?” “Well,” Derek said. “’Partnering’ is maybe not the right word.” “No…” “Further checking got me fingerprints. This was a hack. One of the baddest I’ve ever seen. The plans were stolen.” “They ripped off SHIELD?” Peter laughed. “Man, I just got a whole new respect for the French. Or, you know, finally GOT some, since I didn’t have any to start with.” “Do we have any idea what they got?” Harry asked. Derek grimaced. “Yeah.” “Oh, you didn’t.” He shrugged. “It’s what I do.” Harry covered her eyes with her hand. “You hacked the SHIELD mainframe?” “Wish I could say it was the first time.” “Oh, God,” she moaned. “You can DO that?” Peter asked. “I have a friend in SHIELD.” “Really?” “Well. He doesn’t actually KNOW he’s my friend…” “Just…” Harry said, helplessly. “What did you find?” “That somebody at Chevalier got in and got the plans for a wide-band multi-scan DNA I.D. tagger to complete their Scepter package. Same kind used on the SHIELD helicarrier. Nails your DNA without ever having to touch you. It’s all vibrational and virtually undetectable.” “Why would someone take that kind of chance?” “Could be a number of things. Maybe Chevalier just wanted the technology to augment their services. Maybe they particularly wanted the Scepter job and felt they needed to impress them that much more. Or maybe it’s a direct request from Scepter, in which case…” “It makes you wonder what exactly they’re trying this hard to protect,” Tabitha finished. Harry whistled. “So they got the plans. Do we know if they built the thing?” “From what I can get from the requisition files? Yeah, looks like.” They were all silent as Harry sat there and took it all in. “So,” Peter finally said, turning to Derek, “you basically spent your week off sitting at home on your computer. I don’t feel so bad now.” “Not the whole week,” Derek said, matter-of-factly. “Just the first five days. Then on the weekend I got a call from a flight attendant I met on that Costa Rica flight. She was at O’Hare and had a couple of days off. “LOTS of sex,” he added. Peter turned his middle finger up to Derek. “Can you count this high? Know what this is? That’s the loneliest number that you’ll ever do, baby. Right here.” “Toby?” Harry asked. “Hm? Yes?” Toby said suddenly, seeming to have been distracted or something. He had kind of a guilty aura around him. “What can you tell us about this scanner?” “Ummm,” he said, scratching his head. “Quite a bit, actually.” “I e-mailed him all the stuff as I got it,” Derek added. “Wanted him to be able to check it out as it came.” “And?” she asked Toby. “And…it’s genius. The principles behind thing are supposed to only be theoretical. A group at M.I.T. has been making inroads, STAR Labs has a piece of the puzzle, a think tank in Russia has probably gotten the closest. But someone did it. They crossed over and made it all work. And like most groundbreaking work, it was probably snatched up and compartmentalized by SHIELD. You know, being the greedy fascist types that they are.” “But now somebody else has built one,” Harry said. “Chevalier, presumably. How complicated would that have been?” “Tremendously. The amount of time and resources involved would be pretty staggering. If they built one, they’ve been at it for a while.” “Which tracks with the dates on the fingerprints I found,” Derek said. “Just out of curiosity,” Harry asked, “is it something YOU could build?” “Well, sure,” he said, seeming offended at the implication that he could not. “Given, as I said, the right amount of time and access to materials that are very, very hard to come by. I certainly could.” “So it’s not plausible that we could…conceivably…build ourselves a working model to figure out and practice on for this increasingly frightening job?” “No,” he said, shaking his head dismissively. “Yes, I could do it, of course. But not in the time frame we would need. Couldn’t happen.” “That’s…both a relief and unfortunate,” Harry said. And she took notice as Toby cleared his throat again. He may have been brilliant, but he really sucked at poker, and she knew this. “Toby?” “Hmm?” he responded, innocently. “Why do I feel about I’m about to get struck in the head by the other shoe?” He tried to look confused for a moment, but even he knew he was lousy at lying. “Well, as I said, I COULD build one, but…” “Toby…” “But time is so short, and this is like the major x-factor in this caper, the big deal-breaker. And we…I… “I…got one.” “You ‘got’ one.” “Mm hm,” he nodded, and slid a finger under his shirt collar and tugged at it. “I thought no one else but SHIELD and Chevalier had one.” “Yes, that’s…that’s true.” “Did you ‘get’ one from Chevalier?” “No. No, I’m pretty sure they’ve only got the one, and it’s in Jordan.” “Toby?!” Harry exploded. “Did you fucking rip off SHIELD?!” “No!” he assured her, holding up his hands and leaning back a little from her wrath, though she was nearly at the other end of the table. “No, not at all! I just… Well… Technically, I…ripped off RONIN.” Harry made an incomprehensible sound of disbelief. “And…technically… I…didn’t.” “I did,” Tabitha said. They all turned and looked at her. The woman didn’t really smile all that often, but when she did, it was usually a smile that bordered on evil and, like now, was kind of creepy. “You…what?” “I’ve already been big in Japan,” she grinned. “I…found out,” Toby said, and hopefully as reasonably as he intended, “that there are very few places that SHIELD stores their really, really serious toys. And I did some cross-checking, and pulled in some favors, and made some assumptions on areas of political stability where hard storage would be safest for them in these…troubled times… And, yeah. I figured out that they probably had them stored in the sub-sub-basement of RONIN headquarters in Tokyo.” “And Mr. Wincott rang ME,” Tabitha, the world-renowned master thief, said, finishing her coffee and enjoying the tense silence. “WE ripped off SHIELD!” Peter shouted triumphantly, raising his arms above him. “Screw the French! U-S-A! U-S-A!” “My GOD, girl,” Nina laughed, holding up her fist toward Tabitha, who touched it with her own, radiating self-satisfaction. “You are the SHIT!” “I truly am,” she said with absolutely no humility. “Of COURSE he called you,” Nina said. “Like he was going to do it himself? If Toby tried it he’d be back making Canadian license plates already.” “Should we really be taking her with us to Jordan?” Toby asked Harry, hotly. “Isn’t there some danger of her breasts melting in that kind of heat?” “Ho!” Peter exclaimed, clapping three times and lightly punching Toby on the shoulder. “NICE one, bro. Score one for the prison bitch!” “Do you people just…get together and write up this material before you get to work or something?” Toby asked Peter angrily. “Say,” Peter asked him back, calmly, “what’s Canadian prison like, anyway? Is it all, like…” He dropped his chin and switched to a low, gruff voice. “Hey. You’re gonna be my woman now, eh?” “People!” Harry shouted, drawing everyone’s attention back to her. Once she got it, she turned to Tabitha. “You’re serious?” Tabitha set her empty coffee cup down, reached down next to her chair and got into her always-bulging bag, pulled an item out and slid it casually over to Harry. “I got you a pretty,” she smiled. Harry looked down at it, speechless. It was a desktop nameplate. This one read ‘Tiger Tanaka, Supreme Commander, RONIN’, in both English and Japanese. Harry looked nauseous. “Oh, my God,” she moaned. “We’re all going back to jail.” “Hey, I’m sure that works fine for Toby here,” Peter said, leaning over and putting his arm around Toby and rocking him back and forth. “Bet there’s a few old friends he’s DYING to look up again. True love waits, you know…” Toby shook Peter’s arm off violently and addressed Harry. “No one’s going to jail, okay? This is not the first time we’ve done a borrow. Tabitha can just…when we’re done…go…put the scanner back.” “Put it BACK?” Harry blurted. “How the hell did you get it in the FIRST place?” “You’re probably better off not knowing the fine detail,” Tabitha said, scrunching her face. “Let’s just say I was cunning, and brilliant, and, yes, not a little lucky, and finally able to pull a snatch worthy of your exploits. Can’t say that wasn’t a fair portion of my motivation. It’s very tiresome always being number two.” “You’re not even Japanese!” Harry said. “Yes,” Tabitha agreed, musing. “That comprised much of the ‘lucky’ part.” “The…SHIT,” Nina repeated proudly, which got her a wink from Tabitha. “So you got it,” Harry sighed. “Guilty as charged.” “Where is it?” Tabitha turned her glance to Toby, and, in turn, so did Harry. Toby swallowed. “Toby?” “Let’s just say,” he said, carefully, “it wouldn’t be a good thing for the feds to search the building this week.” “I can’t believe you,” she said, shaking her head at Toby. “Me? She’s the one who broke into SHIELD’s Tokyo clubhouse.” “You DARED me,” Tabitha countered at him, indignantly. “You KNOW that’s like fucking heroin to me…” “Hold up, hold up,” Derek interrupted (before more spatting ensued). “Let’s focus on the big picture here.” “The big picture isn’t all of us in a SHIELD prison three hundred feet below Antarctica?” Harry asked. “The big picture,” Derek said calmly, in his typical near-slow-motion voice, “is what is Scepter doing, and what are they hiding?” “Ahem,” Peter coughed. Everyone turned their attention to him. “Does anyone want to know what I’VE been doing all week?” he smiled. Harry sighed tiredly and ran her hands through her hair. “The answer’s probably going to end up ‘no’, but go ahead.” “Thank you,” he grinned, scooting up to the table. “While you’ve all been globe-hopping and frolicking and having all your sex…and,” he added, acknowledging Tabitha with a nod, “pulling off a MASTERFUL heist…” She nodded back her thanks, magnanimously. “…I’ve been hanging around our nation’s capitol. I figured since we’re going to be invading Jordan, and dealing with Scepter, we might need some background on what’s going on with both. I did my research as far as I could locally, but thought we could use a little more up-to-date intel. And all roads led me to a certain Senator Hugh Bailey, Republican, Vermont, current member of the Commerce, Science and Transportation Committee.” “I don’t like this movie already,” Harry groaned, “and we’re not even past the trivia and previews yet.” “A committee,” Peter went on, undaunted, “that just happens to be working on some complicated Jordanian negotiations right now. Of which Scepter Ventures plays a big part. “So, working my not-unimpressive mojo, I got myself a couple of invites to the Bolivian Embassy dinner that a certain Senator was going to be attending.” “You take Connie?” Derek asked. “Naturally.” “I thought she hated you,” Toby said, remembering. “She does. Not the point. So I attended as a Mr. Roth Fairbourne, young and dashing industrialist on the rise.” “Why do all your aliases sound like porn star names?” Tabitha asked. “It’s from all the porn,” Nina explained. Tabitha nodded, satisfied. “Mr. Fairbourne was, I don’t mind telling you, an undisputed hit. No socks left on anyone. I charmed them all off. And his beautiful escort was all the rage as well.” “At least her breasts were,” Nina said dryly. “Those ones she was born with? Yes, those,” Peter said. He stretched his open palm over to Toby, who, in turn, slapped it with a smug grin at Nina…who, in turn, made a retarded face at the both of them. “We worked the room until I finally got an introduction to Senator Bailey, who was my best bud in no time at all. Seeing as how we coincidentally had all the same interests. Deep-sea fishing, classic cars, golf, money. Before I knew it, I had a golf date set for two days later at the Congressional Country Club. Always wanted to play that course.” “And how did you do?” Derek asked. “Just good enough to not beat Bailey, of course. Had a smashing time. Had the old boy eating out of my hand. It was dinner at the country club after, then drinks and cigars at his house after that.” “Because conning a U.S. Senator won’t add to our troubles at all,” Harry said. “Relax,” Peter assured. “I was flawless. Got to talking with him about my imaginary company—” “How do you throw an imaginary company at a member of the Commerce Committee?” Harry asked. “Easy. You use a fake company already set up by MI-5 as a front for their domestic surveillance activities.” “I asked,” she nodded to herself with personal disappointment. “So I’m going on about my attempts to set up a branch in Jordan, and my helpful and liquored new pal is more than happy to start yapping about the current political and financial climate there and their upcoming relations with the U.S. Cocktails and state secrets. A magical combination.” “YOUR government,” Tabitha reminded everyone. “NOT mine.” Toby raised his hands and grunted at her. “Or Toby’s,” she amended. “Thank you,” Toby said. “And the honorable Senator from Vermont,” Peter went on, “was a TROVE of info.” “Such as?” Harry asked, hoping he was getting to the point. “Such as,” he said, drawing out the second word, “how the government there has their hands in all industry and is gumming up free market flow, and how politics and commerce are too closely intermixed, despite their membership in the WTO since 2000 and their free trade agreements with the U.S. and the E.U. They’re still playing favorites for political favor over financial gain.” “My ass is going to sleep,” Harry pointed out. “So far just the left side.” “And being one of their new industrial powerhouses, Scepter is at the forefront of that. Rumor has it their trade deals and expansion may be under direct command of—or at least pressure from—the monarchy. Or at least a coalition of the governorates. And since MY pretend British spy company has a particular interest in working with Scepter, that was of particular interest to me. So old Hugh took me in his confidence—because I have that effect on people—and warned me off Scepter because of some forthcoming diplomatic issues. Scepter has been secretly wooing a certain world leader in what appears to be an effort to establish a trade agreement with him, and his country.” “What country? What leader?” “The country,” Peter said, suddenly and uncharacteristically serious, “is Khanistan.” There was a silence that had weight in the room. “And the leader is the Voyevode of Khanistan. Viktor Sheremetev. “Imperator.” Imperator. The former Russian super-villain that took over the small nation of Khanistan and became its dictator, and who brought it, despite international sanctions and protests, back into stability. The same man who later moved in and took over the warring, genocidal African nation of Rwanda, and restored, with a similar iron fist, order and an end to the bloody civil war there. Khanistan. Secundus’s home country, Harry knew. The country he and his father, like so many others lucky enough to get out, had fled. “Yep,” Derek said, finally. “That IS the word.” “Scepter’s in bed with Sheremetev?” Nina asked, quietly. “Looking that way,” Peter said. “Scepter or the monarchy itself, hard to say. I got what I could from Bailey, but even I’m not charming enough to get him to start whipping out intelligence briefs for me.” “And we’re in bed with Scepter,” Tabitha said. “How very torrid.” “No,” Harry said, shaking her head a great deal. “We are not. We have one contract with them, one that we can break. We’re not a part of this.” “The HELL we’re not,” Toby said, suddenly, and with a little more gusto than most of them were used to. “We have knowledge, Harry. We may be the only ones. This just confirms what I was already suspecting. Why take the chance stealing SHIELD tech? You asked that. Well, the answer may be right in front of us. When you need THAT kind of protection for something you’re building, it’s something BIG. Something you want no one, I mean NO one, to find out about. What if they’re already working with Sheremetev? What if what they’re building is something specifically for him?” The others looked at each other, and Harry. “What if they’re building a goddamned doomsday weapon for a whack-job of a super-villain dictator, right under the world’s collective nose?” “That’s…a leap,” Harry said, raising one of her hands cautiously. “Is it? Does anyone else think Imperator’s planning to stop at taking over TWO countries? Has anyone noticed both his countries are in the middle of highly unstable regions? He’s proven he’s smart, and he’s patient. Maybe this is all part of his master plan. And maybe we just stepped right in the middle of it.” Harry, without question, needed a drink. It was ten a.m. in Chicago, but it was happy hour somewhere. “And yes,” Toby said, “I ego-stroked Tabitha into breaking into a SHIELD division’s headquarters and stealing highly classified tech.” Tabitha looked like she was about to protest, then turned her eyes upward and thought about it, then had to nod her reluctant agreement of the assessment. “So WHAT?” he went on. “We just got sucked into something with ramifications I’m only starting to work out, and yes, it scares the hell out of me. But it’s looking like there might be a whole LOT at stake here, and not just for us. What about the nations around his? What about the world economy or political global stability or whatever else he might be planning to mess with, which would be VERY in character for him? Given that, if we have to bend—” “Break,” Peter coughed into his fist. “—a few international laws to find out what’s really going on, then so be it. And YES, Nina,” he said loudly in her direction, “I DO want to change the world. Or at least do my part to hold it together. I know you think I’m just some two-bit thief geek who doesn’t care about anything else, but I DO. It’s my world, I have to live in it, and I care what happens to it. And maybe, just maybe, we have a chance here to make a difference for a change instead of just make money, and I for one don’t think we should throw that away because we’re worried about covering our asses.” Nina seemed unusually at a loss for words, maybe a little guilty, and just maybe looked at Toby with a little newfound respect. Maybe. After a period of silence following Toby’s outburst, Derek spoke. “Isn’t this a little over our heads? I’m sorry, but somebody’s got to say it. Shouldn’t we be telling someone else about this?” “Yes, because the powers-that-be listen to ex-cons with GREAT interest and respect,” Peter said. “Our boss used to be a super-hero,” Derek said, looking to Harry. “I mean, didn’t saving the world used to be your thing?” Harry stared across the room silently, not looking at him. Yes. It used to be. “You still know all those people. Maybe they could do something. That’s what heroes do, right? Fight the good fight? Help the helpless?” Harry didn’t answer. “We still don’t know anything for dead certain,” Tabitha said. “Just supposition, just mostly unconnected dots. We can’t go to anyone with something this feeble.” “It’s NOT feeble,” Toby said. “It’s thin, precious,” she said back to him. “If anyone’s going to listen to the likes of us, we have to have a lot more in the kitty. We don’t exactly radiate trust.” “We could go to UNCLE,” Nina offered. “The star-spangled offspring of the people we just hacked and pinched?” Tabitha asked her. “Do you see that ending well?” “Harry’s in with them, too,” Nina said. “Or she used to be. They’d listen to her.” “Maybe back then they would have,” Tabitha said. “But she’s not exactly donning the tighties any longer. No slight intended, Harry, just stating the obvious. You’re one of us civvies now. And you’ve surrounded yourself with, to put it kindly, disreputable civvies at that.” “Well we have to do SOMETHING,” Toby insisted. “That’s what you do when you’re in the position to do the right thing, right?” Harry kept staring as she felt an almost physical stab in her chest. Her mind went back to all the sleepless nights she’d had since Sydney’s visit, no matter how much she kept trying to put the subject out of her mind and tell herself she’d made the right choice, the smart choice, and she could live with it fine. And now it was as if her subconscious was writing scripts for her people. Her people that were now all looking at her and waiting. She looked back at each of them. God damn you, Sydney. “We do the job,” she said. “We go forward as if everything’s normal and proceed as planned.” “Yes,” Toby said, hungrily. “But we go black. We do this with extreme caution. We have to assume they’ll be watching us. If I didn’t know Toby’s security measures better, I’d assume they’re listening in right now. We do whatever it takes. We get the info we need, and we do the job. And see where it takes us.” She turned to Derek. “I want deep background on everyone who matters at Scepter. And at Chevalier. Dig until you smell egg rolls. And get your hand as far up Scepter’s online skirt as you can.” “I’m on it,” he nodded. “Nina, I want you to find out who’s currently doing business with Scepter in Europe and see if there are any other players. Seduce with extreme prejudice. Just get me trails to sniff.” “Not a problem,” she said, and not light-heartedly. “Tabitha.” “Yes?” “There’s a Khanistani Embassy in D.C. and there are hard files to be had there. You’re going in and getting us whatever you can. And we may need you in Khanistan as well. But only as a last resort.” “That shouldn’t be a problem on either count.” “I know an insider who can help us with that. He and I will talk. “Peter. You’ve milked the Senator as far as that will go. Don’t push that. I want you on Jordanian nationals. Businessmen and diplomats. We need to feel out the landscape and see how true this all rings, and if pieces are in play.” “If you need me on Queen Rania, just let me know. Because, if you’ve seen pictures of her… Damn.” “I’ll let you know.” “And…I think it’s only fair that someone should mention this,” he said. “If what we think is going on IS going on? And if they’re hiding something this big? And if they’re hiring us to try and steal it to test their security, knowing that we might find out what it is? Has anyone else considered that once we’ve done our job they may just be planning to…you know…shoot us all in the back of the head?” That brought a whole new kind of uncomfortable silence. “That’s a chance we’re going to take,” Harry said. “We are?” Peter blinked. “Yes.” “Okay,” he shrugged. “Just checking.” “Toby,” she said. “I want a demo on your little stolen gadget, right away.” “Just give me ten minutes to put it back together,” he nodded, geared-up. “And you got it.” She rubbed the back of her neck and glanced at them all in turn. “With all that said,” she said, “is there anyone here who feels this is a bad idea? Anyone who doesn’t want a part of this? There are a lot of risks here, if we’re not just being paranoid, and I hope to God that we are. If anyone wants to walk away, now is the time. I’m serious. This isn’t a dictatorship. I will understand completely. And there will be a handsome severance package. This is a personal choice. I just need to know now who’s on board.” Everyone looked around at each other, silently. Harry waited. “Hey, Tabitha,” Peter said. Tabitha looked across the table at him. “I DARE you to stop a crazy dictator’s evil plans and maybe destabilize whole regions of the globe and possibly start World War III ,” he grinned. She grinned back at him, devilishly. “Well, that sinks it then. I haven’t a choice now. I suppose I’m in.” “Me, too,” Nina said. “Yeah, me too,” Derek sighed. “After that dare, Tabby’ll think I’m a total pussy if I back out now,” Peter smiled. “Guess I’m stuck.” “I…made my position clear already, right?” Toby asked, looking around. “I don’t have to vote again, do I? I mean, am I missing some kind of bonding thing if I don’t—” “No,” Harry said. “I think we’re all clear.” “Then let’s get to work,” Peter said. Toby was the first one to stand. “Just a minute,” Harry said, quickly, and somehow painfully. Toby looked at her and sat back down. Peter, too, had started to rise, and took his seat again. The five Little Rascals collectively waited for her to speak. “There’s one more item of business before we close the meeting.” She folded her hands in front of her, on the table, and stared at them, taking a couple of breaths, feeling a palpable weight on her. “Boss?” Peter finally asked. After another moment studying her knuckles, she unlaced her fingers, looked up, and manufactured a not-too-convincing chipper smile. “So,” she told them. “We’re moving the office to San Francisco.” Her hand-picked collection of thieves, con artists and geniuses stared back at her mutely.
Stephen Strange hurried across the first floor of his home, not exactly running, but with a pace that matched the tinge of worry growing in his chest. He followed the sound of the shout, the one that had been in his wife’s voice, to its source, to her cluttered home office. There, stepping quickly in, he found Sydney standing behind her desk, her telephone sitting in the center of the desk in front of her, now with its handset replaced in the cradle. Her arms were stretched high above her, ending in clenched fists, and her face was frozen in a not-quite readable smile. “Sydney?” he asked, cautiously. As she looked at him, and as her smile grew, he finally noticed there were tears brimming in her eyes. Understanding, finally, the man who loved her began to smile back.
Bree Rader stared quietly at her father, Mark Spires, as they sat on the enclosed patio of his house on a summer Ohio evening. Mark, meanwhile, nervously tried to interpret her silence, studying her face. Her eyes narrowed and darkened. And Bree stood up and stormed back into the house. “Honey—?” he said, startled, and jumped quickly to his feet. The porch door was already slamming shut behind her. He quickly pushed it back open and followed her in. This was NOT what he had been hoping for. “Bree!” he called, watching her back head toward the front door. “Come on, just wait—” “Wait for what?” she called back. “Apparently you don’t need ME to make your decisions. No reason I should have to be here.” “Sweetheart,” he said, jumping into a quick jog and getting between her and the door and holding his hands up. “Please, can we just sit down and talk about this some more?” She stood and crossed her arms and glared at him. For just a brief moment, he thought it might be a good idea to switch to his armored form. For his own safety. “Talk about what?” she finally said, venomously. “How you’re leaving? About how you didn’t even think to tell me?” “I just told you!” he exclaimed desperately. “That’s not what I mean and you KNOW it!” she yelled. With that, she turned her back to him and stormed up the stairs. Mark growled a frustrated noise and stomped up after her. “I know you’re upset,” he said, a few steps behind her as she walked quickly down the hall toward the bedroom that was always hers to stay in when she was over, even though she shared an apartment with one of her friends downtown. “It’s kind of hard to miss that. Okay. And that’s fine. Just talk to me about it.” “Go talk to your wife,” she spat back, and he didn’t like at all the way she used that last word. “She’s the one that gets all the details, right? Guess I’m just the daughter.” She disappeared into her room, but thankfully, didn’t slam the door. He got to the opening and stood there, leaning on the jamb with his arm. She was sitting at her desk with her back to him. “I’m sorry,” he said, tiredly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. If it helps, I didn’t tell Erin at first either. I had to think it over for a while. I wanted to make sure it was really going to happen before I told you.” “And now it’s really going to happen,” she said, not turning around. He closed his eyes. “Yes,” he said. She said nothing. He stepped into the room and slowly sat down on her bed. “Please let me explain my reasons for doing this. Please.” She didn’t turn around. “Bree.” Slowly, she turned herself in the swivel chair and faced him. She wasn’t radiating rage, but she still had her walls up. He’d known her long enough to be able to feel them. “I want you to understand this. This is the last thing I wanted to do either. When Sydney came here and asked me, the only reason I didn’t tell her no right then was because she’s my friend, and I could see how much it meant to her, and I didn’t want to hurt her. I had no intention of making any changes to my life. I like it just the way it is. I like Cincinnati. I like my job. I have a good marriage. And I’m close to my daughter, which is the most important thing in the world to me. I know no matter how wrapped up you are in your own life, I’m just a short drive away, and you can drop by and have dinner and watch movies hang out with your old man whenever you have time. I can be here if you need me. I can be here if you don’t. I spent too many years away from you, and getting back into your life is the best thing that ever happened to me, and the reason for every decision I’ve made in the last decade.” She looked at her feet and rubbed them together. “Except this one,” she said, not looking up. “Yeah,” he had to admit. “Except this one. This one’s about something else.” He slid to the foot of the bed, closer to her, and leaned over with his elbows on his knees, watching her as he spoke. “I left all that behind,” he said, softly. “That whole crazy life. The costumes and the lame-ass villains and the danger. I left it for a lot of reasons, but the main one was you. When your mother passed, nothing else mattered to me but taking care of you. Being there for you. Trying to give you a normal life somehow. A home. We had a lot of things stacked against us, kid. That was a tough time. But I think we did okay.” Her eyes stayed on her feet. “At least give me that,” he said with a little smile. “We did okay,” she said quietly. “And I never missed it. I hear some of us do. They get used to the rush, to the feeling of doing all the good we do. The spotlight, I don’t know. But I never did. I missed the people I worked with. That was it. I was completely happy to step away with no regrets and get on with my real life, with you. And with Erin.” She finally looked up. He suspected she felt guilty for the way she’d just spoken about her stepmother, and that was enough to at least get him a face-to-face, it seemed. That was enough. “I don’t miss it,” he said, looking into her eyes. “But there is guilt. Guilt for being able to do what I can do and then not doing it.” “That’s stupid,” she said, sounding mad at some other intangible, and not at him, which was good. “You did all that for years. You saved the world. Like, multiple times. You don’t owe anybody anything.” “I know,” he nodded. “I agree. In my head, I agree. In here,” he said, tapping his chest, “is a different story. I listened to what Sydney’s going through there in San Francisco. She’s drowning, Bree. She and Kyle are doing it all alone, and it’s not enough. And now this UNCLE agent just died. Did you read about that?” She nodded. “He died, Bree, because he was doing the job that people like me are supposed to be doing. He shouldn’t have had to.” “It’s not your fault he died, Dad,” she said, sounding again angry at some mysterious other. “You can’t think that.” “I don’t,” he said. “I mean it. My ego’s not that big. But it made me really think about what Sydney was trying to tell me. Someone has to take that city back, or it’s going to get worse, and more people are going to die.” “But why does it have to be YOU?” she asked. “Well,” he sighed. “Syd had a whole list of reasons for that. Not all of them I’m sure I agree with. She wants my experience. And needs someone who can back her up as a team leader. But what it really comes down to is that THEY need me. The people there. Heroes are in short supply. Most are busy on their own teams. Or raising families if they’ve retired. And I already raised my family. I got to watch my little girl grow up into a wonderful, amazing independent woman—” She rolled her eyes, which made him grin. “And I’m fresh out of excuses. My reasons are now selfish ones. They’re about me. About me wanting a normal life, me not wanting to face all that again, to work with people I care about who might get hurt. To just be Mark Spires. But right now? San Francisco doesn’t need Mark Spires. They need Anvil. I have this…God, I hate to call it a gift. I can do things other people can’t. Help people in ways that very few of us are lucky enough to be able to. And with all that, I’m sitting on my ass and going to the office and pretending I’m just some guy. I want to be just some guy. More than anything. But I’m not. And that’s been one of the hardest things I’ve had to face during all this.” “You deserve to be happy, Dad,” she said, softening. “A lot of people do. I’ve worked with a lot of people who just wanted to find a quiet corner of the world and grow old and find peace. Nathaniel was one.” She found her feet again at the mention of his name. “People have a choice. They don’t have to choose the hard path. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, hanging around with real heroes as much as I have? The real ones don’t think they HAVE a choice. They do it because it’s what they have to do. Because they think other people and making the world a better place for them is more important than their own happiness. I don’t know if I’m up there with THOSE guys? But I understand why they do it. Some things are worth fighting for, no matter what the cost. “It’s time for me to start fighting again.” He watched her for a couple of moments, with her still looking down, and he took her hand. “Bree, I want you to come with us.” She looked up, surprised. “What?” “I want you to move to California with us. If I do this, I don’t want be away from you. Not again. I know, I know, you’ve got all your friends here and your own life. And I know you’re twenty-five and you’re going to be twenty-six in less than a month and you’re not going to be hanging around with your Dad forever. I’ll understand if you want to stay. I really will. But I really, really want you to go. You don’t have to live with us. I’ll help you get into a place to start with. And you’re still thinking about grad school. There are lots of great schools out there. And if you want to go further with your music, I mean, you talk about your cities to be in for—” “Dad,” she said, her face tightening. “What?” he asked, trying to figure out what was going on in her head, and what he might have said wrong. “Dad, it’s not…that’s not…” “Honey, what? If you don’t want, to, I told you—” “That’s not what this is about!” she yelled at him, and suddenly broke into tears. “Honey,” he said, panicked, taking both of her hands now. “What—” She pulled her hands away and used them to wipe her face while he sat there, lost and waiting. “Do you know why I’m sitting here at twenty-five acting like I’m a fourteen-year old?” she asked, her jaw quivering. “You’re not acting—” he started to lie. “Because I was fourteen when I watched you DIE, Dad,” she yelled, crying more. That hit him like a steel spike right through the heart. “Bree—” “That was the day I found out my Dad was as super-hero. I found out you were a super-hero and you DIED.” “I didn’t die,” he said, trying to calm her. “Well, yeah, I did, but only for a minute. I’m still here.” “Do you know what it’s like,” she wept miserably, “to see that happen to your father? And because he’s trying to save your life? And the only reason he had to is because you were stupid enough to become friends with ANOTHER super-hero?” Bree’s secret friendship with Thunderbolt—the daughter of Superman and Mary Marvel, sister of Captain Thunder and defender of Minneapolis—did, in fact, make her a pawn for Dr. Gabriel Freeman, and Mindwarp—the woman Mark had hated most in the world before Nathaniel put a bullet in her head—to draw Thunderbolt out so they could kill the half-alien heroine. And it had just so happened that Mark was on sabbatical from Forte spending time with his daughter, and that was the only reason he had been there to save both her and Thunderbolt, a fact that he had always counted as good luck. Apparently, Bree thought otherwise. “I was fourteen, Dad. Fourteen and watched my Dad die in front of me, and because of me. And yeah, you came back. And then what? Then you ran right back to Forte, and I had to watch the news and read the papers and hear about all the big Earth-saving battles you were in. Knowing that in every one of them there was a chance I’d never see you again.” He had no idea where to start saying all the things he wanted to say. Bree didn’t give him the chance. “And then Mom died. And yeah, I was young and stupid to hate Thunderbolt for not being there to save her, but I did. And I hated you for it, too.” Another spike, right down the center. And something like a black hole igniting in his stomach and sucking matter and light right into it. “Yeah. Because you were off being a hero somewhere when you could have been around to use your powers to stop that truck. Yes, I know, like I said, I was young. And my whole world was falling apart. I’m just trying to tell you— “And a super-villain sent people to hunt down and kill me and Erin. And then just when I thought everything was getting normal again, Nathaniel died. He got killed right on TV, with my Dad right next to him. I had to watch you go through that. To watch you hold your best friend while he died right in front of you.” I wasn’t the memory of that that made Mark start tearing up. It was the pain in his daughter’s voice. “And then Uncle Jack gets poisoned by some crazy-ass terrorist…alien…WHATEVER people and you’re all out trying to find the cure while he’s dying on a table at UNCLE HQ and I’m trying to watch over his poor little girls and tell them their daddy’s going to be okay when I’m thinking no, he’s NOT going to be okay, because he’s a fucking super-hero and no matter what he does someone’s always going to be trying to kill him! “I HATE super-heroes!!!” She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Mark leapt up and took a knee next to her and wrapped her arms tightly around her. After a couple of moments she put her arms around his back and desperately returned the hug. “Bree, I’m so sorry,” he said, thickly, suddenly never wanting to let go of her. “I’m so sorry I didn’t…properly understand how…” “I know,” she said, her voice muffled in his chest and choked with tears. “It’s okay.” “It’s not okay,” he said, painfully, stroking her hair. “I had no idea…I had some I idea. I just didn’t know you were going through all that. I tried so hard to shield you from all that. But…I guess I couldn’t. I’m so, so sorry.” She didn’t answer him but just kept clinging to him. He rocked her gently. “I’m sorry, too,” she finally said. “I was never going to tell you all that.” “I’m GLAD you told me that,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You shouldn’t have had to keep all that inside all this time.” “Yeah, I should have,” she said, sniffling. “You don’t deserve that kind of guilt, Dad. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m proud of what you’ve done. I don’t tell you that enough. You’re not just everybody else’s hero. You’re my hero, too.” He closed his eyes tightly, and tears leaked out of them. “Neither of us asked for all this,” she said. “And we just have to deal with it. I’m not the first daughter of a super-hero. I’m just being a big baby.” “You’re not,” he said. “I am,” she sighed. “You just caught me off guard with this. I wasn’t expecting to deal with this tonight. I just short-circuited.” “Sorry,” he said again. “It’s okay,” she said again. “I’m sorry I went mental on you. I know this all must be really hard on you. I didn’t mean to make it worse.” “No,” he said. “Don’t ever think you can’t talk to me about what you’re feeling. You’re the most important thing in my life, Bree.” “And YOU are in MINE, Dad,” she said. “I love you, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. I can’t lose you.” “You won’t,” he whispered. “You know you can’t promise that,” she whispered back. “You know how many of your teammates are gone. And you know the minute you put yourself out there again you’re taking that risk.” He didn’t have any answer for that. Bree had been past Santa Claus age before he ever came back into her life. She released her hug and he let her sit up. She wiped at the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hands and sniffed more. He saw to his own with his fingertips. “But you’re gonna do it anyway,” she stated more than said. He looked into her eyes, and his next word ranked right up there with the hardest ones he’d ever had to say. Right up there with ‘Will you marry me?’ and ‘We’ll take the Montrachet Mahogany casket, she would have like that one’ and ‘Yes, Vanguard, you were completely right’. “Yes.” She spilled a couple more tears and nodded. He went ahead and wiped them himself. She put her hand over his as he did. “I understand,” she said. “I really do. I don’t have to like it. And I think it’s pretty clear that I don’t.” She tried a laugh with that line, and he smiled sadly in reaction. “But I know you’re doing what you feel you have to. I’ll just have to deal with my issues. You’re going to have enough to worry about without worrying about me.” “Too late,” he said, holding her hand and smiling. “I already am.” “Well then knock it off,” she grinned, and she leaned forward and hugged him again and stayed there. He put his arms around her and squeezed and felt a huge relief now that the storm seemed to have passed. “Any minute now I’m going to remember I’m a big girl and I can deal with this just fine. Well…that I can deal with it. Guess we’ll both have to.” “I love you,” he told her. “I love you, too, Dad,” she told him back. After a bit, she asked, “Are you scared?” “Hell, yes,” he laughed. “I’m sadly out of practice and I’m way too old to be starting this crap again.” “You’re not old,” she laughed back into his neck. “Knock it off.” “I AM old,” he said. “This is young man’s game, sweetheart. I’m REALLY going to feel old running around the streets of San Francisco with Max. Next to him, I’m like—” She had been rubbing his back, but he suddenly noticed she stopped moving. And stopped talking. He slipped out of the hug and looked at her face. And he couldn’t quite figure out what he was seeing there. “What?” he asked her, confused. Bree absently brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. And when she spoke, her voice was a little sheepish. “So,” she said, “Um… Max is…gonna be there?”
Shannon looked around the emptiness of what was now no longer her small apartment in Southie. All that remained in it that was hers was the backpack that waited at her feet. She had cleared, she had cleaned, and was fairly sure she was going to get her whole deposit back. Being an artist, and a young one at that, that kind of money meant a lot. She looked around, first, because she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was forgetting something, though she knew she wasn’t. There were a thousand details to picking up and moving your whole life, and she kept running through her mental checklist, sure that one of the items had been overlooked. So far, none had. But second, she looked around because she was leaving her first apartment behind. Her home. That place that was all hers and no one else’s. It had been a milestone, as it was to any girl her age. But to her, it had meant more. She’d felt safe here. Maybe for the first time in her life. And now she was standing there on the swept wooden floor, staring at the scrubbed old countertops of what was now going to be someone else’s kitchen, saying good-bye. And she had to ask herself, as dumb as it sounded, if she would ever feel safe again. “What the hell is this?” an unkind and animated voice said behind her. And there ended her peaceful reverie, and her last quality time with her home. She turned around, not having to wonder for a moment who the voice belonged to. Sean stood there in the door, glaring at her, his body language demanding an explanation. He wore jeans and a tee shirt with the sleeves cut off, showcasing his many tattoos, and the muscles she knew so well. His head was shaved nearly bald, and his nose was pierced, something she had a weakness for that she’d never been able to explain to herself. Just like her weakness for guys like him. He pulled his cell phone off his belt and held it up. “What the hell was that text message?” “Well,” she said, picking up her backpack, “I know the first two words were a little tricky, so I thought you might have trouble with them. ‘I’m leaving’ means I’m going away and you’re never going to see me again. But I thought even you could figure out the next two on your own—” “What do you mean you’re leaving?” he asked, brimming with the always-present rage she’d come to know. “I mean, Sean, that I’m leaving this room, I’m leaving this town, and, yes, I’m leaving you.” “Just like that?” “Pretty much,” she said. “If you’d like to stand there and watch, you can witness the whole spectacle for yourself.” She threw her backpack over her shoulder and started for the door. Not surprisingly, he stepped in front of it and blocked her way. She didn’t think she had ever been dumb enough to sleep with a guy who had so few surprises in him. “And that’s all the explanation I get?” he said, shrugging over-dramatically, seeming to her, all of a sudden, a thirteen-year old who’d had some kind of unnatural growth spurt. “After all we’ve been though.” Oh, SO the wrong thing to say… “What WE’VE been through?” she asked him, and her own rage started simmering. “I think the point here is what I’VE been through, you big clueless DICK. We broke up, remember? This is already over. The only reason I sent you a note was to make it official.” That wasn’t entirely true. She’d actually done it just to piss him off. And mission accomplished. “No, YOU broke up—” “Oh my GOD,” she said in angry disbelief. “Don’t even START that shit with me. I’m serious. It’s over, I’m gone, deal with it and get on with your pathetic life.” She started to storm past him. He stepped in her way again. She immediately grabbed his shirt and bodily shoved him into the open door, loudly, and walked out. His hand started to grab at her arm, and she viciously struck it and kept going. Theirs had been a physical relationship on more than one level. She stomped down the old wooden stairs, and Sean followed. “What do you mean what YOU went through?” he yelled, and she answered him, with her back to him, with a guttural, indignant outcry. “How ‘bout you cheating on me?” she yelled. “How ‘bout you knocking the shit out of me? How ‘bout your stupid fucking pet python?” “How ‘bout your screaming bullshit?” he yelled, still following her down the next flight, oblivious to anyone who might be hearing. “How ‘bout you disappearing for hours and never telling me where you’ve been? How ‘bout you waking up screaming every other night? How ‘bout you bursting into tears in the middle of us fucking? Yeah, THAT’s a turn-on. How ‘bout you never telling me where you’re from or anything about your life?” “As if you GAVE a shit!” she yelled, hitting the second floor. “How ‘bout you being a fucking nutcase?” he continued yelling. “I put up with all that. Not a lot of guys would have.” “Aren’t you a saint?” she spat back. “How will I EVER find another love so true?” He reached her at the bottom floor and made another grab for her arm, and with frightening speed she grabbed and twisted his arm behind him and shoved him into pealing paint of the wall. Pinning him there, though he struggled, with his face pressed against the wall, she whispered harshly into his ear. “It’s OVER. This is good-bye. Make your peace with it. ASShole.” She shoved him a few steps away from her and turned and threw the outer door open. She stalked out, immediately seeing his big jacked-up 4x4 truck with its band stickers on the back window and its monster stereo that his friend Len, the car thief, had cobbled together for him. She hated that truck. Mostly because she had loved that truck. And (no surprise) he was right out the door behind her. “Where are you going?” he shouted. “As if I’d tell you,” she shouted back, heading toward her U-Haul truck. She had already sold her Honda, not thinking it would survive a cross-country drive anyway. She figured they probably had Hondas in San Francisco, too. He ran up and reached her and did get her arm this time. He gripped it violently and spun her around to him. She looked down, purposefully, at his hand, and then back up at him, her face getting redder. “You’re gonna want to remove that.” “Not until you stand here and talk to me,” he said through his teeth. The only reason she stood there and left his hand where it was was because she suddenly felt the fire kindling inside her. It wasn’t just physical. It fed her emotions. And it whispered to her things she could do to him, ways she could make him suffer. And the fear of that kept her still. Thinking he had the upper hand, he kept his grip strong and asked, “Why are you doing this?” “Because I’m done, Sean,” she said, hatefully, and hating herself for that part of her that was turned on by this side of him, a part of her that had nothing to do with her fire. “I’m done with you, and I’m done with men like you. I have a chance to start over and not make the same mistakes all over again. And I’m taking it. I’m starting clean. And you, and every part of my life that’s like you, are all just going to be a bad memory.” He made an arrogant noise with his throat. “I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.” “My last yeast infection,” she growled, “was the best thing that ever happened to me compared to you. I knew what I was getting into. And you turned out to be everything I thought I deserved. So I blame myself for ever getting involved with you. But I’m fixing that mistake. And I’m leaving. For good.” “You’re a head case, Shannon,” he said, returning her hate. “You’re a psycho crazy bitch freak and picking up and moving somewhere else isn’t gonna change that. Nothing about you’s gonna change. You CAN’T change. You’re still gonna be the same pathetic whiner screaming about her daddy in her sleep. He was probably just as fucking nuts as you. And you’re probably going to end up just like him, wherever the fuck he is.” She glared at him hard and didn’t move. Her nostrils pulsed. And the fire started to whisper to her again. He cracked a satisfied, cruel smile, seeing that he’d pushed the right button. “Got anything to say about that? Psycho?” “Your truck’s on fire,” she said, calmly. He looked at her face for a second, then reflexively did a glance over his shoulder. And then did a double-take a let her arm go. The cab of his precious truck was engulfed in flames. “My truck!” he screamed, and turned and started running toward it. Remaining calm, she reached down and picked up her backpack, which had fallen when he’d spun her around. She lifted it to her shoulder, and as she did, looked down at the black mystical tattoos that now ran up and down her arms, the ones that only appeared when she used her powers. The ones he’d have noticed if he didn’t love his truck like it was his second dick. She walked to her U-Haul and climbed in, listening to his panicked and helpless shouts, and could imagine him running aimlessly around his truck trying to figure out what to do. She could hear other voices, too, neighbors having rushed out at all the commotion, but she didn’t look back. The truck wasn’t parked close enough to the building to do any damage to it. The truck, and the last of her emotional ties to Boston, were the only things going up in flames. She started the U-Haul and carefully pulled it out onto Stoughton Street, turning right and heading for Columbia Road. As she did, she took long, controlled breaths, closing her eyes at regular intervals. Slowly, the tattoos began to fade, and then vanished all together. Shannon Dwyer smiled. She was not her father. She had it under control. She was a good person, a fact that she had to keep telling herself over and over, and forcing herself to believe Father McKie. She would not become him. In fact, she would become something so much better than him. She had that chance now. Had it, and was now on her way, with a truckload of everything she owned, to take it. California, she thought as she turned onto Columbia, and as the fire truck with its wailing siren screamed past her, back toward the life she’d just left behind. Here I come.
Bobby sat behind the wheel of Jared’s borrowed SUV in the dark, parked across the street from the house. He’d been sitting there for maybe a half-hour, maybe more. He wasn’t sure. But he also knew his time was short, and he was wasting it. Actually, that was probably exactly what he was trying to do. He finally took a few deep breaths and told himself it was now or never. Five minutes later he told himself that again, and this time actually got out of the truck. He crossed the empty suburban street, stepped onto the sidewalk, went up the cement walk that crossed the lawn, and climbed the three steps to the porch. He stood at the door, feeling paralyzed all over again, but finally, with great difficulty, pressed the doorbell. He heard light footsteps from the other side of the door, and felt like time slowed and drew out the span between their falling and the door opening. An eternity later, it swung open. “Bobby,” a pleasantly surprised Lillian O’Banion laughed, and her bright smile pained him deeply. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call first?” “Hi,” he said, lamely. “I’m sorry. I should have. I just—” “Don’t worry about it,” she smiled again. The girl was right about Bobby’s age, had long brown hair, and he’d always thought—even from the first day, his freshman year in high school—that she was one of the prettiest things he’d ever seen. “Come on in,” she said, swinging the door wide for him. “Actually,” he said, quickly, and even found himself taking a small step back, “I can’t. I can’t stay.” She looked at him, still smiling, but doing a small shake of her head in confusion. “Okay,” she laughed. “What’s up?” “I just needed to talk to you for a sec.” “And you don’t want to come in and talk?” she grinned at him, as though he was acting quite silly. “I can’t. I have to be—I have to go.” “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, doing that amused head-shake again and studying him. “Why are you acting spastic?” “I just needed to tell you something,” he said, having trouble holding eye contact with her, but forcing himself to. “Okay. Tell me what?” It had taken much less time to hit that wall than he’d hoped. He did drop his eyes, finally. “Bobby?” she said, now less amused and starting to get concerned. “What is it?” He looked back up again, and she looked back, impatiently. He shuffled though the list of pre-arranged speeches in his head, looking for just the right one. And just like with Holly in a shoe store (one trip to the mall with her had been enough for him to start avoiding the invitations from then on in), he couldn’t seem to find one that quite fit. “I’m leaving,” he heard himself saying. “You’re leaving?” she asked back, shaking her head more. “What do you mean you’re leaving? Leaving what?” “Leaving Seattle. Tonight.” That smile he’d adored from afar all through high school—and beyond—was definitely gone now. “What?” she asked, looking a bit shell-shocked, and maybe trying to figure out if she’d heard him wrong. “I’m leaving, Lill.” “Bobby,” she said loudly, and kind of desperately, stepping through the door and out onto her porch in front of him. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?” “It’s a really long story,” he sighed, shifting on his feet and looking away from her gaze. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” she asked, still trying to figure it all out, and she stepped closer to him. He fought the urge to back away. “No, no, nothing like that,” he assured her. “I’m moving to San Francisco.” “What?” she asked again, even louder. “I have a job there. I have an apartment. Actually, my stuff’s already moved. And my car’s there. I’ve already said good-bye to my parents. But now I have to finally go, and—” The nauseous look on her face made him feel terrible and horribly guilty. And the anger that followed didn’t please him much either. “What the hell are you talking about?” she yelled. “Bobby, what is this? This is crazy! You’re LEAVING? Why are you leaving?” “Like I said, it’s a long—” “I don’t care!” she shouted. “Explain it! Tell me how this all makes sense!” This was one of those times, one of many over the past five years, that he wished he’d been able to tell her the truth about who he was. That he was Max. That he was in Forte. That all his unexplained disappearances and broken promises had perfectly justifiable reasons behind them. “I made a promise to a friend—” “WHAT friend?” she yelled, and there was a growing tinge of panic in her voice. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that there’s this opportunity that I felt I had to take. It happened kind of suddenly. And it happened at the right time. And I have to do it. So I have to go.” “Tonight,” she said, the word laced in accusation. “The opportunity just happened tonight and now you’re moving to California.” “No, I’ve known for a little while.” “Oh, I know,” she said with caustic sarcasm. “You’ve already got a place. You’re already moved in. And now when you’re about to take off forever you decide to finally tell your best FRIEND about it.” “I wanted to tell you,” he said, weakly. “I just didn’t—” She turned suddenly and took a couple of steps back toward her door. Then she stopped and turned again, toward him. Her body seemed to be miming her brain’s state of confusion. “How can you be leaving?” she asked, still angry. “How can…Bobby, I don’t understand this. Why are you doing this?” “Because I have to.” “What’s the big freaking opportunity that you just HAVE to—” “It’s not just that. Okay? There are a lot of reasons. But what it comes down to is that it’s time for me to move on. Finally. Get out on my own.” “You ARE out on your own!” she yelled. “That’s not what I mean. I’ve never left Seattle, Lill. I’ve never lived anywhere else. And I just need…to try something else. Start over. On my own terms.” She just huffed open-mouthed breaths at him for a moment, staring at him. Finally, she threw up her hands and dropped them again. “I don’t know how to deal with this,” she said. “What am I supposed to say here? How do you think this makes me feel?” “I didn’t want to hurt you—” “Well you DID,” she yelled. She turned on him again, like she might, again, go back in the house, but she stopped next to the door and put her back to the wall and watched him, her thoughts racing. “Bobby, this can’t be happening. We’ve known each other since we were fifteen. We’re friends. We’ve been MORE than friends a couple of times. You’ve always been there for me and now you’re telling me you’re just packing up and leaving me? Just like that?” “It wasn’t an easy choice,” he said, quietly. A tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it with her hand, quickly. “Why couldn’t you have talked me about it first?” “Because I didn’t want you to talk me out of it. You’re good at that.” He meant to say that with a grin, but the grin never came. “You could have given me the chance to try. This affects me too. This isn’t just about you. It’s about us, too.” “I know it is,” he said, and swallowed. “And that’s one of the reasons I’m leaving.” She looked like someone had just slapped her. “What does that mean?” “I can’t do this anymore, Lillian.” “Do what?” “Us.” She honestly had no idea what he was talking about, and just stood watching him, stunned. “I can’t keep this up. I can’t keep feeling what I feel and keep it locked up inside. I can’t do this on-and-off thing with you and keep hoping that something’s going to change if I give it more time. I’ve given it nine years. Nothing’s going to change.” Her anger was gone, and she was the one to swallow this time. She looked guilty, scared, hurt, and a handful of other things, none of which translated into any words. “I’m in love with you, Lillian,” he said, and it came out a lot easier than he ever thought it would. “Bobby…” she whispered. “And I know,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, “that you don’t love me. Not like that. And I don’t think that’s ever going to change. And if I keep telling myself that it might, then I’m never going to move on. And I need to move on. I need to be happy.” Her tears started trailing out freely. “And you ARE my best friend,” he said, choking on his words. “And I think you’re one of the most amazing people I’ve ever known. And I care so much about you. And I don’t want you out of my life. But you have a lot of things you have to figure out. You’ve never been able to really figure out what you want. That’s something I can’t do for you. And I can’t wait around anymore for it to happen. It’s time to let go. “So I have to leave.” She sniffed hard and her face was finally lost completely in the crying. She leapt forward and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly and desperately as she wept. Bobby squeezed her back, squeezed her with the bitter and greedy longing of knowing it might be the last time. “You can’t go,” she said in a small, wet voice. “I wish I didn’t have to,” he said, never really thinking her words in return were going to be any last-minute proclamation of love for him. But a tiny part of him had held out hope, and he now felt foolish for it. “Who’s gonna take care of me?” “I think you’re going to have to do that yourself,” he said, holding her. “And I think you’re going to find out that’s going to make you feel really good. You’re a lot stronger than you think, Lillian. You always have been. You’re going to be okay.” “I don’t want to be okay,” she whimpered. “I want you to stay.” If he wasn’t crying himself, he might have laughed at the irony of that sentence. “I love you, Bobby.” As much as he wished he could kid himself, he knew exactly what she meant by that. “I love you, too, Lill,” he whispered. “And I’ll miss you. I’ll miss you SO much.” He slid a little away from her and looked into her face. They both had tears running, and looked into each other’s watery eyes. He leaned forward and pressed his lips into hers. She kissed him back, without hesitation and with growing intensity as the seconds passed. As if by that alone she could somehow make him stay, and make everything like it was again. He finally pulled his mouth from hers, and pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. She worked her fingers through the back of his hair and kept her eyes tightly shut as well. Together, they breathed. Finally, Bobby raised his head and looked into her eyes again. He tried a weak smile, and she tried to return it, but it came back painfully sad. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, and hugged her one last time. She clung to him almost childishly. “If you ever need me,” he said. “I’ll be there.” “I need you now,” she whispered. He let her go and touched her face, taking one last good look at it. He kissed her lips once more, then turned and walked down her stairs, thinking about how his feet had barely touched them when he’d left that house for the first time, a kid, not believing that a girl so beautiful had invited him over to study. She stood on the porch, her arms crossed, and watched him as he crossed the street, got into the Ford Expedition, started it, and drove away. Bobby McMillan never looked back.
The sound of genuine, pure laughter echoed throughout the secret warehouse that had once been the design and maintenance base for the Mariner submersible jet. Five and a half years ago, the Tether Corp facility that only a handful of people knew about was given, on permanent loan, to a new group of super-heroes that had single-handedly saved Seattle from an other-dimensional invasion. That group had ended up taking—with the blessing of its original owners—the name of Forte. And it was that group, five and half years later, and with the addition of four new heroes since, that laughed together now. The eight of them sat together in the base’s rec room, on couches and chairs that surrounded a wide coffee table. They were not in costume, but in civilian dress. There were no secrets between them. They were friends. They were family. Two bottles of expensive champagne sat empty on the table, and each of the gathered protectors of Seattle had a glass, either in hand or sitting on the table before them. Bobby sat in the center of the main sofa, with Lucy—Tinker—on one side of him, and Samantha—Nightsable—on the other. Holly (Dyna Girl), Davis (Rainier) and Paul (Vortex) sat on the couch opposite, and Jared (Seahawk) and James (Moonspider) were in the plush, worn chairs at the head and foot of the table. Everyone was in high spirits as they spoke of memories. Of embarrassing moments, of ridiculous villains, of faces and stories forgotten. Between them, they had many to share. “And Bobby and I are grabbing onto this big robot’s arms,” Holly was laughing as she told her tale, “dragging our feet, trying desperately to keep it out of the Starbucks where James is screwing around with Kingfisher—” “Screwing around, was it?” James asked, grinning. “—While Lucy’s on the radio screaming ‘the green wire! The green wire!’ As if we had a hand free to do anything about the freaking green wire.” Samantha laughed painfully, her arm around Bobby’s, her head on his shoulder. “And then Paul comes shooting up in a blur and starts speed-punching the force field over the thing’s chest hatch. This is after, mind you, Paul had to sneak out of a faculty meeting by telling his fellow educators that he had to take a wicked piss.” More laughter. “And I’m watching all this on live TV,” Lucy laughed, explaining to Jared, one of two of them that weren’t involved that day, “with Davis, and we’re yelling at the TV like we’re watching a horror movie! ‘The green wire! And get out of the house! Freddy Krueger’s in the house!’” Holly went on as Jared laughed. “And Paul FINALLY gets through the force field and yanks the wire. And the crazy robot stops where he is and stands straight up. Bobby and I are still hanging on, and we’re looking up at it wondering what the hell’s about to happen. And Paul looks at us and says ‘she did say the GREEN wire, right?’” Fresh laughter exploded all around. “And then the robot starts saying something about ‘target abandoned’ and goes to sleep. Just goes to sleep standing up like a statue.” “Turns out,” Paul said, raising his glass to Lucy, “it WAS the green wire.” “As IF there was doubt,” Lucy said, faking offense. “Well, I didn’t know you that well then,” Paul said. “I’ve learned my lesson since. Lady knows her robots.” “And that’s when Holly here,” James said, “decided to announce to the TV crew that Paul and I were now part of bloody Forte. And I haven’t had a full night’s sleep since.” “You KNOW you wanted to be asked,” Holly teased at him. “And she was nice enough to include us in the decision,” Davis said, nudging her. “Apparently we’re a representative democracy, and someone elected her the prime minister.” “I think she made a pretty good choice,” Bobby smiled. “The new guys worked out…okay, I guess.” “Very magnanimous of you, Robert,” James said. “Considering you were one of the founders and you just stood there next to her with that slack-jawed look of consternation you’re so famous for.” Bobby grabbed a breadstick and threw it at James, and the martial master easily batted it away with a chuckle. “And so officially began the new era of the new era of Forte,” Lucy sighed. “With a crazy robot and one of the biggest dumb-asses of a villain this town has seen.” “Hey,” James said. “That’s my client you’re maligning there. Tread lightly.” “So what was the moment the FIRST new era of Forte began?” Paul asked. “If you had to choose one.” Bobby, Davis, Jared and Lucy all looked at each other, thoughtfully. “That’s…open to debate,” Jared mused. “Far as the world thinks, of course, it was the fight with Lord Raze downtown. But some might say it was when Lucy and I met when Sanction was chasing her down.” “Or probably the next day,” Lucy said, “when we went to UNCLE and Bobby happened to be there and we all met and started comparing notes.” “Or,” Davis said, “when Captain Compass found me—” “On a boat he hired from a smuggler and ranting like a madman about little blue men under the sea,” Jared said, snickering through his nose. “—which as it turned out I was completely RIGHT about, thank you very much. And he called you guys and you flew out there, and that was officially the first time the four of us were together. Sounds like a proper official beginning, right?” “I would disagree,” Samantha said. “Oh, the late-comer has it figured out,” Lucy grinned. “Please, enlighten us.” “Well, even though I wasn’t part of your PRECIOUS Forte back then,” Sam said, rubbing Bobby’s arm, “*I* think it officially started with me and Bobby.” “And how does THAT math work?” Holly wanted to know. “Easy,” she smiled. “Before any of you ever met, Bobby and I teamed up to stop that bombing at ChemaCo.” “Stop it?” Jared said, raising his eyebrows. “The bomb went OFF, Sam. That’s not stopping, that’s witnessing.” She stuck her tongue out at him and went on. “The fire—that turned out to be the diversion—started while the city’s new dashing young heartthrob Max—” Bobby rolled his eyes and blushed. “—was at that charity thing with the mayor and Chief Galisky, and he flew away from his adoring teen girl fans and went in and started saving people. I heard about it on the radio and teleported in just when he found the bomb, which was about to go off.” “And her timing was perfect,” Bobby added. “Since it DID go off, but she was able to open up a portal and get the last few people out to the parking lot before it did.” “A portal which Bobby knocked me through and saved my life,” she also added, hugging him. Which made him blush more. “So,” she concluded, “since I would later join Forte, that made it the first official new Forte team-up. So I say it all started with Bobby.” “A little retroactive,” Holly smiled. “But okay.” “Then to Bobby,” Davis said, raising his champagne glass. “Father of the new Forte.” “To Bobby,” they all agreed, out of unison, standing up briefly and leaning in to toast with him. Bobby just grinned shyly, and after they all drank, they all sat back down. “If that’s how it all started,” Lucy said, “then I guess tonight officially ends the era.” She hadn’t intended it, but her words brought the mood back down, and reminded them all that they weren’t all having one of their normal Saturday night hang-out sessions. This was the last one, at least with the whole of them. This was good-bye. A period of reflective silence ensued. “You know it’s still not too late to bitch out and stay,” Holly said, only half-jokingly. “I’m sure Syd would forgive you if you did. In like five or ten years.” Bobby smiled, sadly. “I wish I could. This…isn’t easy. Leaving you guys. Leaving the team. I’ve been with you guys almost the whole time I’ve been Max. There’s no way anything could be…like this.” “It won’t be like this,” Lucy said, taking his hand. “Not without you. Nothing’s ever going to be the same.” “Last time I’ll ask,” Jared said to Bobby. “This really what you want to do?” Bobby swallowed, looked down, and nodded. Lucy squeezed his hand. “We’re all so proud of you, Bobby,” she said. “For doing this. You’re doing a good thing. You’re doing the right thing, like you always do. We’re going to miss you SO much, but we’re very proud of you. And we love you. And that’s never going to change, okay?” He nodded, unable to speak any words. Jared got to his feet in the moment of quiet that followed. “I think now’s a good time,” he said, walking over to the cabinets that held all manner of items, including the old board games that had come with the adopted base. Bobby watched him, confused. The others didn’t seem confused at all. Jared pulled out a gift-wrapped box with a bow on it. “You guys,” Bobby said as Jared started walking back over, and as the others sat forward in their seats expectantly. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” “Don’t worry,” Holly smiled. “We didn’t spend much.” “At all,” James added, setting his glass on the table. “I voted for the lap dance.” Jared set the box on Bobby’s lap. “Bobby,” he said. “You helped us start this thing. You’ve been with us from the beginning. You’ve been a teammate, you’ve been a friend, you’ve been a brother. We all owe our lives to you, one way or the other. You’re one of greatest heroes this city has ever known. And one of the best friends any of us could ever hope for.” Bobby’s eyes started misting up, and all his teammates watched him with warm, sentimental smiles. “And while there’s no way we can ever repay you for everything you’ve done for us, and what you mean to us, we wanted to get you a little something to let you know how we feel, and so that you’ll always remember us and what we’ve been through together.” He stared down at the box, feeling the tears start to come. “Open it,” Samantha said, quietly and with a dazzling smile, hugging his arm. Slowly, he got his hands to work, and the tore the bright paper from the flat white cardboard box. He worked his fingers into it and cracked the tape that held it shut. While everyone watched, he took the top off the box, and pulled the tissue paper in it aside. He looked down at what was there, a little confused through his watery eyes. He picked the item up and unfolded it before him. It was a green tee shirt. Extra-large. On it was cheap, iron-on lettering, the kind of thing you bought at one of the tacky shops at Pike Place Market. Which is exactly where they’d gotten it. The raised letters read: I saved the world Bobby broke down and wept. Samantha threw her arms around him and held him. Lucy did the same. One by one, all of his teammates came over and joined in. An eight-person group hug was not an easy thing to manage. As always, Forte managed to find a way.
Jared hugged him forcefully. “You give ‘em Hell, kid. Show ‘em how to do it the Forte way, okay?” Hugging back and clenching his eyes tight, Bobby nodded and said, “I will.” Jared stepped back, and Davis was next. He embraced Bobby and patted his back. “You know we’ll always be here,” he said. “We’re just a teleport away. If you need us. Or if we need you, right?” “Right,” Bobby laughed. They separated and shook hands, and stared for a moment into each other’s faces, two friends who had been through so much together. And survived it all, somehow. Nearby, both Holly and Sam were wiping continual tears. Paul stepped in, shook Bobby’s hand, then followed with a hug. “Thanks for everything, Bobby,” he said. “You’re gonna do great, man. I mean it.” “Thanks,” Bobby said. “For everything, too.” Paul grinned at that, patted Bobby’s shoulder, and stepped back. James stepped up and shook Bobby’s hand. “Avoid Broadway,” he told Bobby. “Those girls with the flyers come on like they love you, but all they want to romance is your wallet. Got that?” “I got it,” Bobby laughed. Grinning, James came in for his hug. “Don’t forget where you came from,” James said. “Do us proud, mate.” “I’ll try,” Bobby told him as they parted. Samantha, draining tears like a fountain, stepped up and put her arms around him. Bobby wrapped his arms around and her held her as she cried. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered. “I’ll miss you, too, Sam.” She held the hug for a long time, then finally pulled her face back from his neck. She wiped her tears and smiled at him, and Bobby smiled back. She looked at his face, and his eyes, and suddenly put her hands on his cheeks. She leaned in and touched his lips with hers. His eyes jolted open for a moment in surprise, and then he closed them. The kiss was soft, and lasted for a good ten seconds. Jared and Paul glanced at each other, and both had to grin. She let his lips go and drew back slowly. Bobby was beet red and swallowed hard. Samantha smiled, warmly, and ran her hand down his left cheek. She took his hand as she backed away, and held it until she was too far back to continue, and let it go. Lucy walked up, choking on tears, and looked at him affectionately and sadly. He returned her look, thinking of their early days, the time spent playing Rummy in her hanger, all the advice she’d given him on life and love (which never stopped being funny considering her luck with the latter), the time he’d carried her, with him screaming like a lunatic, into the emergency room, thinking he’d lost her. Her face suddenly contorted with a final sadness, and she let out a sob, and she threw herself into him and started kissing him. The kiss went on longer than Sam’s. Davis’ eyes widened, silently. He glanced over at James, who could only shrug. Jared could only give one his confused and thoughtful faces as they all waited. Lucy finally pulled her lips from his with a smack, and Bobby took a deep breath through his nose. Swallowing hard, she ran her fingers through his hair and forced a smile and sniffed at her tears. Still in shock, Bobby managed to smile back. Her reddened eyes sparkled as she brushed his chin with her thumb, didn’t even attempt the words that weren’t going to come, and stepped back. Holly, also crying, stepped up. She gazed at him and put her hands on his neck. Bobby put his hands behind her back to hug her. “Hell with it,” she said, suddenly, grabbed the back of his head, flung herself into him, knocking him back into pool table, and kissed him ferociously. Bobby made a helpless noise through his nose. Paul creased his eyes and watched this, blinking. Jared and Davis looked at each other, not grinning. It was possible there was an air of adolescent resentment going on here. Holly continued to kiss Bobby passionately, and he was lost in it and oblivious to anything else in the room. After a bit, James actually looked at his watch. She finally stopped, exhaling hard, and Bobby actually panted. She pressed her nose against his and breathed heavily with her eyes closed. Bobby looked completely lost, and might have actually forgotten where he was. She opened her eyes and looked into his, still huffing, and her lips angled into a grin. “You come back real soon, okay?” she told him. Bobby could only jerk a couple of nods. “I have an announcement to make,” James said, dryly. “I’m leaving, too. Right away. French Foreign Legion. Plane’s already on the tarmac.” Holly hugged the bewildered Bobby, then finally let him stand back up. He cleared his throat and pulled his bag back onto his shoulder. His teammates parted and let him through, touching his shoulders as he passed. “You ready?” Sam asked, smiling bravely. Bobby stood there for a moment, then turned around and faced his friends. He looked at them all, the people he’d done the impossible with, the people he’d fought alongside, more times than he could count, the people he trusted with his life. It occurred to him that he’d never known a better group of people in his life, and knew that he never would. He loved every last one of them. They looked back at him, smiling, and no words were needed to know that the feeling was mutual. He smiled at them. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I am.” Sam moved her fingers, and a shining portal of energy irised open behind him. He looked over his shoulder at it. Barely visible through the shimmering light, he could make out the living room of his new apartment on Bush Street and Jones, in the Nob Hill district of San Francisco. He looked back at them one last time and smiled widely. He raised his hand in a weak wave. They each raised their hands in return. With that, Bobby McMillan turned around, took a deep breath, and stepped into his new life.
“—Think it’s fantastic,” Robert Jacob James Smythe, known best to the world as the previous Forte’s Vanguard, was saying into the phone in Sydney’s ear. “Long overdue. I’ve been saying that for some time.” “Uh huh,” Sydney said, curled up in the one comfy chair in her home office, leaning her head back and tense with dread. “I’ve got endless ideas for you.” “I knew that you would,” she said, pleasantly, closing her eyes tightly. “There are a lot of things to take into account. Zoning, for one. You have to break your city down into zones for maximum effectiveness. I did that for Angel Flight. They had no idea what they were doing, really. At least not the right way to do it. I helped them streamline it all in no time flat.” And I’m sure they were oh-so-grateful, she thought. “And there’s patrol scheduling. Not as easy as you’d think, pairing your people up. Luckily, you know most of your team already, but still, it’s a whole new dynamic. There are countless factors to take into consideration.” Oh, PLEASE count them. I can’t stress the ‘please’ enough. “And your database. Crucial. Information is your first and most important weapon. You can’t just go running out there uninformed. A good psych profile reviewed ahead of time can make all the difference.” “Really?” she said, again, pleasantly. She glanced over at her desk. Her sidearm was resting there. With just three quick steps, she figured, she could lay hands on it and put it up against her head. “And you’ve got to worry about a training regimen. Most of your people are veterans, so they’ll resent it, but it has to be done. Some of them are out of practice. They’ll need to be reminded of that. And those that aren’t can always stand to learn something new. Again, I went through this with Angel Flight. They weren’t thrilled—” She threw her hand over her mouth and kicked the her heel against the hardwood floor, hoping the sharp pain would help stop the laugh that wanted to burst out of her. “—but they came to appreciate it. We’ll need to look at your assets and figure out the best way to whip them into shape. Look at their offensive arsenal and their non-com skills and start mapping out team strategies. They need to learn as a unit if they’re going to function as a unit. And Sydney, you know if I hadn’t retired, I’d be putting on the mask and joining you in a heartbeat, right?” “I…never had a doubt,” she said, carefully. “But at least I can offer my experience and accumulated knowledge. We need to start putting a training manual together, and a team syllabus. And there are marketing considerations to be looked at. That comes later, of course, but still, it’s—” “Robert?” she interrupted, steeling herself. “Yes?” “I really can’t stress enough how much I appreciate all this.” “Of course. It’s not a problem in the least.” “’Cause I know you’re the master at this sort of thing—” “Well, ‘master’ is a bit strong—” “—and you’ve been doing this for a long time. And you’ve always been amazing at it.” “Thank you.” “It’s just…um…as much as, as I said, I really really appreciate all of it…” “Yes?” She closed her eyes and winced. “I think I’ve got it.” There was silence on the other end of the line. Sydney held her breath and curled her toes, waiting. He finally spoke. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” Despite her age, and the rareness of her doing so, Sydney giggled. “Kinda, yeah.” “I’m sorry.” “No,” she said, quickly, laughing. “No, no, Robert, I mean it. This means a lot. I really want your input. It’s just that this is something that’s very personal to me, and something I feel I really have to do on my own.” “And this is why you waited until now to tell me.” “Kinda.” He laughed, humbly. “I get enthusiastic.” “It’s one of your more endearing traits, sweetheart,” she said, smiling. “And maybe retirement has made me a little batty. I guess the idea of getting my hands in again got me a little carried away.” “It’s okay. Really.” “You DO have it, Sydney. I mean that sincerely. You don’t need me or anyone else to tell you how to run a team. You’re not only an experienced hero, you’ve been running one of the most challenging UNCLE branches for years. I can’t think of another better suited. You’re going to be wonderful.” “Thank you, Robert,” she said, genuinely touched. “That really means a lot coming from you. A LOT.” “It’s well-deserved. I’m very proud of you.” “Thanks,” she smiled, pulling her feet up onto the chair and hugging her knees. “I hope I can live up to that.” “Not a doubt in my mind. California’s not going to know what hit it.” “Yeah, that’s been said about earthquakes, too, my friend,” she said, wryly. “Yes, but it needs your kind of shaking up.” “I love you, you big stiff,” she grinned. “And your love is returned. Always.” She smiled some more. “Sydney?” “Uh, huh?” He paused, and when he spoke she could hear the grin in his voice. “Can I at least come out and play with your vehicles?” “It’s funny you should mention that…” she said back, grinning herself.
“How did it go?” he asked. She made an exhausted noise and set the phone down on the small maple table beside her. “Better than expected. He doesn’t hate me.” “Excellent,” he said. He crossed to her and joined her in the wide chair, and she happily slid over to make him room. She put her arms around his neck, and he placed his hand on her hip. “So,” he, looking into her eyes. “That’s the last of it. It’s done.” “Yep,” she agreed. “Now the real nightmare begins.” He smiled and touched her face. “Are you ready?” She had to think about that. “I think so. As ready as I can be.” “Are you as confident as you really should be?” “Not even close,” she smiled, nuzzling his ear with her nose. “That will come. You’ve really done it, Sydney.” “I guess I have,” she said, kind of surprised now that she thought about it. “How about that?” He turned his head and touched his nose to hers. “I believe in you,” he said. Something about that made her start to cry a little. “Thank you,” she told him. She kissed her husband, held him tightly, and started to feel something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Hope.
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