Previously...

San Francisco had all but fallen to the super-villains, the mystic gangs, the cults, the neo-terrorists, and all the other threats that the city's UNCLE branch--led by the retired Forte heroine Mist (now just Commander Sydney Todd-Strange)--were stretched too thin to reign in. Looking for a radical solution to the seemingly hopeless situation, Sydney decided to suit up as The Mist once more and form a new American super-hero team to take the city back. With her former Forte teammate Secundus (already living in San Francisco) signing on, she set out to recruit other well-known Forte faces--like the retired Anvil and Nightshift, and the current Forte member Max--as well as a mysterious fire-powered girl named Heatspell, whom Sydney had a past with. None were easy sells on the idea, but finally, all were convinced to join up, for their own reasons. After some difficult and emotional breaks with their old lives, the out-of-state heroes made their way, one by one, to...

 

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San Francisco, California
August, 2005

 

“Will you guys hurry it UP in there?” Sydney called loudly. “We’re dying here!”

Sydney Todd-Strange, Kyle Von, and Shannon Dwyer—costumed up as Mist, Secundus and Heatspell—waited together in a tiled hall of what appeared to be an outdated—and abandoned—office building in a faltering neighborhood in downtown San Francisco. Sydney leaned on the old, dusty wooden table against the wall, with an equally dusty framed map of 1930s San Francisco behind her. Shannon sat on the table next to her, dangling her booted feet. Kyle simply stood next to it, arms behind him and hands intertwined, stoic and patient. All three faced and watched the closed restroom doors before them—both the ladies’ and the men’s rooms.

Yes, Sydney was costumed as Mist, but not quite as people were used to seeing her. The costume was new—familiar, but new. A variation on the black-and-white, low-cut bodysuit she’d worn so many years as a Forte founder and member was still there, but now she wore a short white leather jacket over it with an upturned collar, and a black choker around her neck. She also wore a loose belt that hung low on one side, one that looked very much like her original one—the one that had, at one time, given her her weather-controlling and desolidifying powers, until a freak mystic blast had internalized her abilities. She’d kept the belt anyway, thinking that still wearing it would keep bad guys thinking she still needed it to do what she did, which might occasionally give her an edge.

She’d worked out the basic new design herself, but had turned it—and other projects—over to an up-and-coming fashion designer she knew named Eryck Webb, who had the distinction of being a straight male clothing designer living in San Francisco. As she’d explained to her new group of partners not thirty minutes ago, when they’d all arrived at the location she’d given them and she’d been waiting in the new duds, she’d felt that a new team called for a new look…a visual representation of change and new ideas. And she’d also let them know that this concept was not limited to just her.

Which was why she, Heatspell and Secundus were all waiting expectantly (well, at least she and Shannon were. Kyle could probably have cared less) for Anvil, Max and Nightshift to hurry up and finish changing into their new costumes.

Kyle, she’d felt, didn’t need a new look. The Secundus costume he wore was already a new look, frankly, from his Forte days, one he’d changed to while living in San Francisco the past several years. He’d firmly established himself on the streets and as part of the city, and she thought it was important to keep with that identification. So there he stood in his familiar loose-fitting trousers, tucked into his boots, his cloth-wrapped waist below his lightly armored torso, his cloak (with its available hood currently hanging down behind him, letting his familiar solid face-plate-only mask—which some said made him look a little like Jason Vorhees—show fully, along with his blond hair and L-type sideburns), which covered his twin sheaths that held his battle staves, and his cloth-wrapped forearms in lieu of gloves, which left his upper arms bared, which in turn showed the controversial and confusing tattoo on his left shoulder—the Soviet hammer and sickle. His reasons for having it—and showing it during his post-Forte days—were reasons he and those whom he knew understood. That others understood its meaning to him didn’t seem to matter much to Kyle. Which was something Sydney was already working on dealing with.

Shannon hadn’t been Heatspell very long, so there was no need to jazz up her image. She wasn’t very well-known outside of Boston, the city she’d just left behind by accepting Sydney’s offer, and Sydney felt it was good to hold on to what limited recognition she had, so people would understand she was an established heroine. It didn’t help the confidence factor if people thought she was a complete rookie—which actually wasn’t too far from the truth, but the public at large didn’t need to know that (and Sydney hoped that Shannon wouldn’t SHOW that). So her look stayed the same. And besides, it was a look Sydney felt really worked with the younger demographic, a big one they were going to have to woo with the new team in this town. The girl wore a sleeveless half-jacket of red leather that bared her abdomen and was zipped up to its high collar. Her low-rise pants, red leather also, had yellow flames climbing up them, and ended in black, heeled boots that matched her fingerless black gloves and wide, low belt. Her very long red hair was usually pulled back in a lengthy tail, as it was now, and the round goggles that completed her look either covered her eyes or were pushed up to her forehead, depending on her mood. What was most striking about her—and again, probably most helpful with the younger crowd—were the black mystical symbols running the length of her bared arms, ones that appeared to be tattoos. These were not evident currently, as they only manifested when she was using, or close to using, her magical fire powers. They were certain to be a hit with a town so tattooed itself, but Sydney had to wonder if they Gen-Xers would be so pleased with them if they knew—like her—where the symbols actually came from.

Shannon’s look made her appear tough and independent, but that part of her personality definitely wasn’t showing today. Shannon was nervous as hell, and Sydney could tell…and understand. Today was day one, as far as Sydney was concerned, the first time all six of them had met together. The four that, unlike her and Kyle, didn’t live in town had been making their way to the Bay, one by one, as they transplanted their old lives. This was the first chance they’d had to finally do the big meet-and-greet and start things proper, a day she’d been preparing and planning for for some time. Shannon had gotten to meet them all, all of them seasoned Forte heroes known the world over. If she’d been uncertain of her place among them before, that feeling seemed to have been cemented as they all introduced themselves (and went so far as to give her their real names right away, something Shannon clearly hadn’t been expecting (nor Sydney that soon)). The normally talky (and mouthy) girl had been bordering on shyness, and had said little beyond polite and awkward responses. Sydney felt for her, for the obvious self-doubt that she was feeling and her inexperience in social situations that didn’t involve a dance club, but also thought it was a good thing. Anything that would take some of the cockiness out of her was a plus in Sydney’s book. She didn’t think that was going to last very long, but at least it was a good way to start. And, truth be told, she was feeling a little nervous about Shannon saying the wrong thing and embarrassing her in front of her old friends and teammates, since she was the one who’d brought the girl into this and vouched for her. So far, so good.

So Shannon sat quietly, looking a bit like a little girl, swinging her feet and glancing around the place nervously. Sydney did her best to engage her in conversation a little while they waited, to put her at ease, which seemed to help some. Maybe it was something about the little girl feel, but to Sydney, Shannon looked like she was in the office on her first day at a new school, waiting to be led to her classroom and face all the social terrors there, feeling immediately like the outsider. Sydney didn’t want her cocky, but it was also important to her that Shannon felt a part of the team from the start, so she made a mental note to work things that direction for the remainder of the day. And she felt that her old teammates would do their part to make this happen as well.

And speaking of her old teammates…

The ladies’ room door opened, and out walked Harry Sullivan—Nightshift—in her updated costume. She immediately struck a pose and grinned, and Sydney started clapping and hooting, and Shannon (a good sign) joined her.

Harry’s costume from her brief stint as a regular Forte member had always, to Sydney, lacked some pizzazz—something it looked as though Sydney and Mr. Webb had now given her. Her look had already changed from the old days when she cut her then-long hair and now had a very stylish shorter ‘do (short in back, long in front). Back then she’d worn an off-the-shoulder long-sleeved leotard and leggings that had dipping cutouts that bared her hips. Sydney—as was her notion with all the starting-over-heroes—wanted to keep enough of the old look for recognition but update it and snazzy it up. Nightshift now wore what amounted to a black halter-top, but one that went over her arms in straps that kept the old off-shoulder look. Added was a choker with a crescent moon pendent, and from that pendant trailed, on either side, twin ribbons of silver fabric that draped down over her bosom and over her arms, and joined in the middle of her back at a second, identical pendent on the back of her top. She had golden gloves, with boots that matched, and skin-fitting black pants that had reversed-triangular cutouts, which, like the old, showed off the bared skin of her hips.

In short? Sexy as Hell.

Sydney continued to cheer and whistle as Harry’s grin grew wider and she did a couple of pivots.

“Check my shit OUT,” Harry laughed as she turned back around and looked down at herself. “Syd, this is gorgeous!”

“Did I tell you?” Sydney smiled, completely pleased with herself. “Look at YOU, sexy thing!”

Harry bit her tongue and grinned, walking over. “Hey, if you got it…” she said, calling up the old her-and-Sydney joke and slapping her hip. Sydney laughed and clapped a couple more times.

“It looks great,” Shannon offered.

“Thanks,” Harry smiled, walking up to Secundus. “So, Kyle…your thoughts?”

Though his expression, as ever, was hidden behind his mask (probably one of the reasons, Sydney felt, he wore the mask), Kyle cleared his throat. “It looks a little…cold for this city.”

Harry looked at Sydney. “If he’s going to keep lavishing me with compliments like this all the time, I swear, I’m just going to be blushing from dawn to dusk.”

The one blushing was probably Kyle, at least it seemed so from his body language, and the typically shy man cleared his throat again. “I’m sorry. You look very nice, Harry.”

“Thank you, Kyle,” Harry grinned at him, never being able to resist messing with him, a holdover from their days as teammates. “And I don’t get chilly, remember? The whole power side-effect thing?”

“Ah,” he said. “Yes, I’d forgotten. It should work fine for you, then.”

She playfully slugged his shoulder and stepped over to Sydney. “Nice work, boss-lady. I totally approve.”

“Who knows your tastes, huh?” Sydney smiled. “I told you I’d set you up.”

“And you did.”

“That’s really cool,” Shannon added, trying to be a part of things. “Guys’ll go crazy for that.”

“A number of the women, too, I’m sure,” Kyle added casually.

The heroines in the room all fell silent and looked over at him.

Noticing the quiet, he looked back at them. After a moment he said, “I just…the city we’re in, it’s…a large part of the population…” He cleared his throat again and looked away, clearly embarrassed, and Sydney and Harry burst into laughter.

“God, I miss the things that fly out of his mouth,” Harry laughed. “Thank you, Kyle. I know that was meant to be a compliment. I’ll take it.”

Kyle apparently felt it was best to quit while he was ahead, because he said nothing further.

Sydney got her own laughter under control and said loudly, “Now if the BOYS WOULD JUST HURRY UP AND COME OUT…”

“Yeah, yeah,” came Anvil’s voice from behind the restroom door. “Keep your new pants on.”

After a moment, the door finally opened, and Anvil and Max stepped out into the hall. To the immediate cheers and catcalls of the ladies.

Max, who immediately seemed embarrassed by the reaction and attention, looked nothing short of dramatic. His new and improved costume, again one that incorporated parts of the old, had been intended to be unapologetically heroic. And mission accomplished.

His old colors of red and black were there, with gold liberally applied to replace and supplement the slight bit of yellow he used to wear. He still had a cape, but unlike to old black one, his new one was deep crimson on the outside and gold on the inner lining. The full helmet he’d worn was gone, replaced by a red mask that started just above his eyebrows (so his hair—red when he was powered up, as opposed to his usual blonde, a fact that the helmet had always hidden—now showed), left his nose and mouth exposed beneath a thin gold stylish visor (as opposed to the rectangular reflective one built into his old helmet) and became one piece with his costume’s shirt, the upper half of which stayed crimson like the mask and ended in a V. Across his chest was a stylized black “M”. Below the V, the shirt went black, and ending in a golden belt with another black “M” on it. The pants were half red (on the interior) and half black (on the outside), and had golden patches of padding down the legs, which gave a nod to the padding on his old costume, and were also on his red boots. Segments of the golden padding were also on his red high gloves, which we were worn over black sleeves. And the (overly, Sydney always felt) bulky shoulder pads he’d used to strap on were now replaced with armored, rounded gold epaulets that capped his shoulders. He didn’t just look heroic—he looked nearly regal, and Sydney practically oozed with pride.

Anvil looked (no surprise to Sydney) quietly unsure about the whole thing. His old look that was famous on every continent was actually pretty simple—which matched his whole feelings about being a super-hero, anyway. He’d never—when he first started up as Anvil—seen himself as a hero, see he didn’t get overly complicated when designing a look. Like Mark himself, the look had just been practical and unassuming. It had been a one-piece black spandex body suit, one that ended just below his shoulders on the arms and in mid-calf on the legs. Two white stripes had run straight down from the shoulders to the legs. And instead of heroic boots, the man had chosen to wear Chuck Taylor All-Stars on his feet, and continued to do so for the whole of his hero career. And that was all there had been to his costume. The rest of his famous look consisted of his shiny organic steel skin.

His new look built (again) on the old, with the black spandex again, this time sleeveless and more of a tank top above the waist. He had an extra-wide gray belt that resembled a weightlifter rig, and the old white stripes were replaced by padded gold strips that ran up to his shoulders, where they turned gray and extra-padded, furthering the weightlifter look. He wore extra-thick padded gloves, again gray but with strips of extra padding in gold on the outside. The short-pant look had been replaced with full black pants, with golden stripes that continued the padded ones from above, and ended in knee-high thick gray strapped boots. Two padded pouches were on the sides of his legs from his boots to mid-hip. His Chuck Taylor days, it seemed, were finally over.

The girls continued their hooting and clapping with great enthusiasm, and this time Shannon joined in without reservation. Anvil—Mark—rolled his eyes and continued to regard his new garb.

“Look at our hunky BOYS,” Harry laughed. “Owww!”

Max, in typical Max form, blushed.

“Guys, you look amazing!” Sydney smiled happily, pouring on a little extra due to Mark’s obvious lack of enthusiasm.

“Uh huh,” was all Mark said, pressing at the padding on his shoulders.

“Bobby,” Sydney said, giving up on Mark for the moment, “you look SO good.”

“VERY good,” Shannon said, and the sound of her voice made Sydney glance over at her. The girl was staring at him unabashedly, a cat-vs-canary smile on her face, her eyes practically twinkling. At least for the moment, her day’s shyness had vanished. Sydney both grinned to herself and made another mental note, this one warning herself impending trouble.

Bobby caught the comment from Shannon and seemed to blush a little deeper, then avoided the moment by turning his gaze to Sydney. “You think?” he asked.

Sydney walked up to him. “Oh, God, yes. Bobby, I don’t want you to take this wrong, but let’s face it. You came up with your old costume in high school. All that extra padding and armor that you didn’t even need? And the clunky helmet that hid your face from people? You really needed a change.”

“Oh,” he said, not apparently having ever realized that.

She smiled and looked him over. “This is what you need. This is classic heroic, and that’s what you are, Bobby. I wanted something awe-striking. I want people to get chills when you fly by. And they will. And I want bad guys to think twice and wonder what they’ve gotten themselves into when they see you land. You’re going to be our icon, kiddo. Our symbol of heroism and trust. You now look like the hero that you are.”

“Wow,” he said. “All that from a costume?”

“Well it depends on what’s under the costume, of course. And speaking of which, and I don’t want to embarrass you here? But with this face,” she said, touching his chin with her thumb, “and this body? And with you doing everything you could to cover them up all this time?”

Naturally, she did embarrass him, but there was no way around that with this guy.

“You need to show off the goods, pal,” she smiled. “Let the world see what you got. No more hiding your face under a helmet. You’ve got a smile people love and trust immediately, and we’re going to let people see it.”

She smiled at the look on his face and his lack of words, and decided to take the poor boy off the hook. She turned to her glance to Mark instead and sighed.

“Mark?”

“Yes?” he answered.

“Let’s have it.”

He scrunched his metallic face a little before answering. “I don’t know.”

“What?” she asked.

He ran his hands over his padded ‘suspenders’. “What’s with these?” he asked.

“They’re supposed to symbolize strength,” she explained, patiently.

“I look like I should be moving washing machines at the loading dock at Sears.”

“Mark,” she said, stepping over to him. “You just spent the last nearly fifteen years looking like you were on the way to an aerobics class. The Richard Simmons thing had to go.”

Harry cackled a laugh from the background and covered her mouth guiltily. “I’m sorry, Mark,” she said when he looked over at her with an eyebrow raised. “She’s kind of right.”

“The gloves,” Sydney went on, “are a symbol of restraint, and will help you not crack the skulls of the less durable bad guys out there.”

“Well, that part makes sense, I guess,” he capitulated, closing and straightening his fingers.

“Just give it some time, okay? That’s all I ask.”

He looked unsure, but nodded. “I will try,” he said with a sigh.

“Thank you,” she said, with a little relief.

She turned around and looked everyone over. “Well,” she said, smiling. “This almost looks like a super-hero team, doesn’t it?”

They all looked at one another, and understood the weight of her statement. Sydney had set out to build a new hero team. And sure enough, here one appeared to be. A group of heroes that were now, it seemed, going to be working together for a long time. The casual moment had suddenly started feeling more than a little historic, and they could all feel it. And as for Sydney, she felt no small measure of astonishment that she had actually pulled it off. Even Mark managed a smile in the moment of silence.

“Okay,” she said, clapping her hands together and breaking the moment, “I just need to check one last thing, and we can get the tour started. I’ll be right back.”

“We’ll be right here,” Mark said. “Unless someone needs me to load a refrigerator into their pickup.”

Ignoring him, she walked off and disappeared around the corner.

Mark turned to Kyle and shrugged. “Guy opinion, Kyle?” he asked, indicating his clothing.

“You look very nice, Mark,” Kyle answered. Harry laughed, and Anvil looked at both of them, realizing and accepting that he’d missed a joke (and likely just been the butt of one).

As they waited, Secundus started up a conversation with Heatspell, who politely participated, but kept stealing glances over at Bobby nearby, looking like he was the one she really wanted to be talking to. Mark walked over to where Harry stood.

“So,” she asked him, doing a spin and showing off her new look. “You like?”

“Hey,” he said, “you want to go out and fight crime with your ass hanging out, that’s your business.”

“At least mine doesn’t blind people when the sun hits it,” she answered, smacking his metal backside. She winced, pulled her hand back and shook it, having hurt her finger. “Ow.”

“Well,” he said, “to be honest, you could use a little time in the tanning bed. You’ve been in Chicago too long.”

“I’d smack you for that,” she answered, hopping up and sitting on the table, “if I hadn’t just remembered it hurts to.” He grinned in response. “So,” she said, perking up, “how’s everything with the move? How’s Erin taking it?”

“That’s right, Miss Last-Person-Showing-Up. You’re out of the loop.”

“Hey, I’ve got a business to run, chump. It’s not easy to up and move your corporate office across the country. I’ve been a little busy.”

“I know,” he grinned. “And she’s doing fine. She is the proverbial beaver right now. She’s setting up the house, setting up her new office, running around all over town. I think she sleeps three hours a night.”

“How’s Bree?” she asked, carefully, having found out through a phone conversation with him about his daughter’s rather explosive first response to the relocation idea and the whole return-to-heroing thing.

“Good,” he said, nodding.

“Oh, I’m glad.”

“Yeah, me too. We got over the rough part. I think she’s really excited about the whole thing now. Not this part, but the move thing. She’s staying with us at the house while she’s apartment hunting. She’s getting into the whole fresh start groove. Feeling the adventure. I think she’s going to get back on the music, too. She’s really excited by the cultural vibe here. Just a WEE bit more artistic here than Cincinnati, you know?”

“I know,” Harry laughed. “Good for her. I can’t wait to find some time to hang out with her and go exploring. Does she have the same cell number?”

“For now, yeah.”

“Cool. I’ll call her. When I get a free minute.”

“Speaking of which…how are your people dealing with the forced exodus?”

“They’re fine,” she sighed. “They whine, but they adapt. I kind of sprung this on them at a bad time. We have a lot going on. Bad time to transplant everything. But, duty calls.”

“Yeah,” he said, studying her, “and you actually TOOK the call. You never did tell me what made you change your mind.”

“Yeah,” she said, awkwardly. “And I was kind of hoping to leave that in the ‘long story’ bin for now, if that’s okay.”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “That’s fine. When you want to talk about it.”

“Thanks,” she smiled.

“But whatever it was?” he said, smiling back. “I’m glad it happened. It’s good to see you again, Harry. It’s going to be great to be working with you again.”

“Thanks,” she beamed, fairly touched.

“No matter how scared shitless we both are.”

She laughed and leaned back, putting her hands on the table behind her and looking up at the ceiling. “There is that,” she agreed, thoughtfully.

“Yeah, the old gang,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Kyle, who was still talking with Heatspell while Max stood nearby, looking around the room. Mark had been with various incarnations of Forte, but the one he’d shared with Harry had included Kyle, Tomarssuk, Moondancer and (what turned out to not be) Hologram. “With some twists.”

“Yeah,” she said, quietly, glancing over where his gaze was. “Do you know what the story is with the new girl?”

“No,” he answered, shaking his head. “Just that there’s a story. I don’t know if Syd’s gonna tell us or just let it come out.”

“I almost did a background check. But I didn’t want to piss Sydney off. I figure she knows what she’s doing. She seems to trust her.”

“Which is good enough for me.”

“I KNOW. You totally gave up the real name right away.”

Mark shrugged. “Going to be working with her. Seemed like a good way to start. She did the same. She seems okay. A little quiet, maybe.”

“Well, come on, Mark. Look what she just stepped into. Believe it or not, some people probably find us a little intimidating.”

“Yeah, if only they knew,” he grinned.

She leaned closer to his ear. “And have you noticed how she’s looking at Bobby like a big red-black-and-gold buffet table?”

“Huh?” he said.

She shook her head at him. “Typical.”

Sydney stepped back into view. “Okay,” she said to the room. “I think we’re all set. If you’ll all follow me, we can get started.”

And her five chosen heroes did.

 

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The mostly newly-costumed heroes walked together, with Sydney in the lead, their boots clacking and scraping on old linoleum. She guided them through a couple of turns until they came to a set of old elevators that looked like they were from the 1960s, like the rest of the building.

“Only the one on the left works,” she told them, stepping up to it. She reached for the button, but instead of pressing it, she slid the panel for it upward, which revealed a keypad and small sensor. She punched in several numbers and then removed her black glove and pressed her thumb against the flat white circle. There was a ding, and the elevator door slid open.

“We’ll do a reading on your thumbprints in a little while,” she said. “And I’ll get you the code.”

“I like how the secret elevator is cleverly disguised AS an elevator,” Mark commented. “That’ll really keep those intruders on their toes.”

Sydney stepped in, and the others filed in and filled the box.

“Press ‘one’ and ‘three’ together,” she explained, and did so herself, “and hold for two seconds.” After the two seconds passed, the elevator began to descend, even though there were no buttons indicating a basement. And they quickly dropped BELOW basement level.

“Oh,” Harry said. “We live downstairs. I didn’t think there was a downstairs.”

“We’re actually about four stories down,” Sydney explained as they continued downward.

“Cool,” Harry said. “So we REALLY have a secret base.”

“We do,” Sydney smiled, enjoying the fact that she’d kept them in the dark about so many things until her big unveiling. For all the work she’d done, she felt, she deserved to have a little fun with it.

The doors slid open after they stopped, revealing a fifty-foot long armored hall that did not at all match the upstairs décor. Sydney stepped right out, and the others followed, peering around.

“There are security measures,” she said. “You’re all on camera right now. There are defensive weapons hidden in the walls. Blast, electrical, gas. A little something for every bad guy. Though I did replace the more lethal stuff the previous tenants had in here.”

“Previous tenants?” Max asked.

She smiled coyly over her shoulder at him. “All in time, Robert.”

They followed her to the hall’s end, where an opaque rectangle was embedded in the armor beside a set of thick sliding steel doors, which looked as armored as the walls. Her glove still off, Sydney moved her palm toward it. “This one takes the whole hand,” she said.

They waited for her to press it, but she allowed herself a dramatic pause first.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “Welcome to your new base.”

She placed her palm on the panel, and after a moment’s scan, the doors slid apart with surprising silence. Sydney and her team stepped in.

“Ooooh,” Harry remarked.

“Wow,” Max mirrored.

They entered a circular chamber, and its walls were lined with video screens all around. On those screens at present was a 360-degree view of San Francisco. From the time of day evident in the sky, it seemed to be a live shot.

“This camera’s on top of the Transamerica building,” Sydney told them. “Not that anyone at Transamerica KNOWS that.”

“Nice view,” Mark nodded, impressed. The room made him think of a similar room at Disneyland, a place he had finally taken his daughter much later in her life than he should have. Shannon, standing beside him, was silently stunned. Unlike the others there, she wasn’t used to this kind of tech. Sydney thought that if the girl realized how wide-eyed she looked, she’d have knocked it off immediately.

“There are several in place,” Sydney went on. “More to be added. These are very high-res cameras, I should point out. Any of these can do a ridiculous zoom. Should come in handy.”

She walked to the center of the room as they all looked around at the curved screens, toward a round metallic table in the center. “If you’ll all have a seat,” she invited.

They joined her, and found six chairs around the table, and cardstock, folded placards with each of their hero names on them. At each setting was a flatscreen monitor folding up from the tabletop, a keyboard raised from a recessed panel, and a white cardboard box.

Mark grinned at the placards.

“Just for the first day,” Sydney said, noticing this, smiling with a little embarrassment. “I was short on time at the end. I printed them up at home.”

“I’m sure they would have looked at you funny at Kinko’s,” Mark said, taking his seat. The others did as well after finding their places. Shannon seemed—to Sydney and Harry, at least, the only ones who took notice—to be quite pleased to have been seated next to Bobby.

Sydney sat last, and picked up a small remote control from the table before her. Before using it, she paused and looked around at all of them.

“I know I’ve told each of you this in private,” she said, a little quietly, “but before we get started I just wanted to say thank you one more time. I can’t properly tell you how much this means. I needed you, and you all came through for me, and for no other reason than I asked you.”

“We’re happy to be here,” Bobby felt the need say. Kyle, sitting silently in his chair, nodded. Shannon looked a little unsure how to react to this sudden moment of emotion, and maybe at the fact these were all people with history together, one that she wasn’t privy to.

“We all are,” Harry smiled, maybe feeling a little lingering guilt at being the last one to say yes to Sydney’s proposal.

Sydney smiled at her, sentimentally, and at all of them. “I know you all gave up a lot to be here. A lot of big personal cost. You all upturned your lives to come here.”

“Kyle didn’t,” Mark pointed out.

Sydney looked at him.

“What?” he asked, innocently. “He didn’t. He was already here.”

“Okay, everyone but Kyle,” Sydney said with a patient laugh.

“Just don’t want the teacher’s pet stealing any of our thunder,” Mark said, looking over at Kyle with a grin. Kyle probably grinned back, but that would have to be left to assumption.

“But you’re all here,” Sydney said, getting serious again. “And you made this happen. And I’m never going to be able to say thank you enough. But I’m going to say it now anyway. Thank you. I love you guys.”

“We love you back,” Mark smiled.

“Hear, hear,” Harry said, softly.

Sydney smiled and looked at them all for another couple of moments, and Shannon started to look even more uncomfortable. Then Sydney took a breath, smiled widely one last time, and raised her remote.

“Okay, then,” she said. “So, without further ado…”

She pressed a button. Only a couple of them had noticed, distracted as they all were by the artificial vista, but beneath the big screen directly behind Sydney was console with a very tech-looking computer and monitoring system. The screen above it suddenly lost its video feed and went to a solid white background, one with five stylized blue-green letters splayed across it that made up a logo. It read, simply:

Forge.

“Finally!” Mark said. “We find out our name! I thought you were never going to spill it.”

They all looked at it and contemplated it, and Sydney watched them, a little nervously.

“Huh,” Harry said, not unpleasantly, staring at the word.

“I went through quite a few,” Sydney laughed. “But I liked this one. Obviously it’s a nod to Forte, where most of us got our start. Close, but different.”

“’Cause…there’s a ‘G’” Mark said, raising a finger to the screen. “I caught that.”

“I had Nightsable design the logo,” Sydney said, and at the mention of that Bobby smiled fondly. “I wanted something simple, but elegant…”

“So it’s fifty-percent like Nightsable’s father…” Mark said.

“…something a little stylish, a little modern. Something that fits the city.”

“I think it does,” Harry nodded.

“The name starts with Forte, but it’s something new. Like us. We’re forging something new. We’re forging ahead. Kind of a multiple meaning there.”

“I like it,” Bobby said, smiling. “It’s cool.”

“Me, too,” Shannon added, whether to make Sydney feel good, to be a part of things, or just to agree with Bobby, who knew.

“I think it’s perfect,” Kyle said.

“Aces, girl,” Harry grinned. “Nice work.”

“Thank you,” Sydney grinned back, looking relieved.

“So we have a name,” Mark said, seemingly making it unanimous. “Which is good, because it will keep bad guys from shouting ‘look out! Here comes…those guys!’”

“Well, I’m glad you all approve,” Sydney said, then laughed. “Because as you’re going to see in a little while, you’re kind of stuck with it either way.”

“Good thing she didn’t go with ‘The Village Super-People’, then,” Mark said, thoughtfully. He looked around at the table that seemed to have ignored him. “Oh, COME on. TOMMY had more of sense of humor than you guys. And he’s a polar bear.”

“Something new,” Sydney began, joining in the ignoring. “That’s what we’re doing here. Anyone who’s been on a hero team, or who knows anything about hero history, knows how most of these start. A big threat shows up. A group of heroes, who usually don’t even know each other, happen to be in the right place the right time and defeat it, together. And then they decide they worked pretty well together, and a team begins. That’s kind of how the original Forte started. Except there was no real big threat, and I showed up a few days later. Bobby’s Forte completely fit the blueprint. Four heroes—two of them not even heroes yet—four different investigations, all leading to a big hairy invasion from another dimension, which they very handily—”

“Very luckily,” Bobby interjected, only half-humorously.

“—thwarted. And, as per the blueprint, the rest is history.”

“You thwart like a MADman,” Harry commented to Bobby with a smile and a wink.

“And I think we can all agree,” Sydney continued, “that it worked out very well. As it usually does in the long run. The heroes band together, make the city their home, and they wait for any new threats to pop up, and face them. Over time they learn to work well together. They make mistakes along the way, but they learn from them. And eventually, they get it right.

“So the typical hero team—” She began ticking off with her fingers. “—Happens, they make mistakes, and they wait for new threats to show up. These are three areas where this team is already different.

“One, we’re not just ‘happening’.

“Two, we can’t AFFORD mistakes.

“And three,” she finished, looking around at them gravely, “we’re not waiting.”

It wasn’t just the mood in the room that got heavy. Even the recycled air around them seemed to.

Sydney picked her remote up again and tapped it, and the screen behind her changed.

“This is San Francisco, 2005,” she said, and behind her, a still photo of a frightening, mammoth villain with green skin in an armored suit filled the screen. His mouth was contorted in a bellow of murderous rage, and he was standing in the remains of a bank wall that he had obviously just destroyed. In the foreground, terrified people were running toward the camera, and away from him. “It is Beirut with dinner theater.”

She tapped her remote more, and more images followed. Another villain was hurling a cable car, and more citizens were running and screaming. A group of villains with coordinated costumes traded blasts with UNCLE agents. Some kind of werewolf held a woman to his chest as a weeping shield as police leveled their guns at him and shouted.

“At some point things started going bad, and the escalation to worse just never stopped. Every two-bit psychotic with a power or a suit decided that this was their personal Cancun. They’ve kept streaming in and made this city their playground. It’s Disneyland for demons. Without the deterrent of heroic intervention you find in places like Seattle, or the Midwest, or New York or L.A., they know that they have free reign.”

The photos kept coming, and the others watched them, silently, as they seemed to grow more violent and more frightening.

“There are the floaters,” Sydney went on, “but there is also organization. A big reason for the influx has been a villain-for-hire network that’s made us their home office. Somewhere in this city, someone has started a clearinghouse for mercenary villainy, and that means bad guys from around the nation and around the world come here looking for work. That work may be centered elsewhere, but we’re the Ramada. While they’re in town, like all good conventioneers, they like to step out on the town and party. Unlike Vegas, their idea of partying leaves a very different kind of cleanup behind.”

A photo of downtown came up, a scene of destruction. Cars overturned, buildings almost collapsed, and three bodies on the sidewalk with yellow tarps over them. Harry took in a sharp breath through her nose, and hoped no one noticed. Mark did, but pretended not to.

“There are villains. There are terrorist cells.” A photo of uniformed Mandate troops in a firefight on Alcatraz came up at Sydney’s command. “There are the gangs.” Another photo, this one of Chinese youth in wild, semi-similar clothing with glowing eyes and hands. “We have the mystic tongs. They’ve divided up parts of the city amongst themselves and now war over these divisions, with everyone else stuck in the crossfire. They’re not the only gangs with juice either. We’ve got plenty. And we’ve got the mob, too, and they’ve stepped up to more and more powered and new-tech activity in the past decade.” Several pictures illustrated this. “No more Uzis and brass knuckles. Wise guys are warming up to lasers and genetic augmentation. And like the gangs, they don’t much care about collateral damage.”

She switched gears again, to a new photo of men and women in black ceremonial robes being led away from a brownstone by police, with symbols in what appeared to be blood sketched on their foreheads.

“We have cults. We have covens. We have ancient secret societies.” A series of photos of said groups filed by, and of rooms filled with candles and alters and idols. “This is a city that prides itself on individual freedom and cultural and religious diversity. So this is to be expected. But not all of these groups limit their ways to chanting and incense.”

Three photos rolled by. One had another yellow tarp, this one covering a body on an alter in a dark room with torches, and the body’s arm dangled limply. Another had a group of young, terrified children in a rusty cage. A third showed some kind of toothy demon hissing at the camera with its worshipers seemingly protecting it as they surrounded it, brandishing swords and other bladed weapons.

Harry squirmed in her seat.

“You’ve all fought your share of villains,” Sydney said, and the photos went back to more of them. “Some of you haven’t for a while. These are not the villains you may remember. There is no code for today’s super-villain. The old unspoken rules don’t apply anymore. They’re not in it for the thrill, and it’s not a game to them. They’re young, they’re dangerous, they have no reservations about killing. They’re unbalanced sociopaths with devastating power and zero inhibitions about using it to get what they want. They are thieves, they are rapists, they are murderers. And they’ve come to believe that this town is their candy store, and that there’s no one that can stop them.”

A photo stayed on screen—one of a villain group brazenly walking across the Bay Bridge, looking arrogant and hungry—as Sydney looked from one of her teammates to the other.

“They have taken over this city,” she said. “And the six of us are going to take it back. Street by street, alley by alley, block by block if we have to. I’m not going to pretty this up for you. This is going to be dangerous, and ugly, and deadly. We will, together, be putting our asses, and our lives, on the line for what some already consider a lost cause. I don’t believe that it is. And we will prove it. The free reign of anarchy and terror is over, starting today. The people will know that, finally, there is hope. We are that hope. And we will not fail them.”

She let that thought linger in silence for a couple of moments.

“Anyone want to go home yet?” she asked, and wished it were a joke.

Mark pulled a small smile with no humor in it. Max’s eyes glanced around at everyone. Harry said nothing, and didn’t make eye contact with Sydney, which worried her.

“Hell, no,” Shannon said.

Sydney glanced at her. The girl was smiling, and her eyes held both cockiness and determination. And a kind of greedy hunger. One that gave Sydney a little chill. But she smiled back at Shannon nonetheless, a smile that managed to be proud, worried and guilty all at once. The others looked over at her, too, a little surprised at the break in her silence and the disappearance of the seeming meekness they’d known so far.

“I think that speaks for all of us,” Mark said, grinning to Shannon, who grinned back. Yet he found himself turning his head a bit toward Harry, without actually looking at her.

“We’re here, Syd,” Harry said, quietly, and it seemed like with a little difficulty. She did meet eyes with Sydney, finally, and Sydney nodded to her with some unspoken gratitude.

“We didn’t just happen,” Sydney said, back in speech mode, talking to everyone. “You’re not here by accident. You were all hand-picked, by me. For your skills, for your experience, for your abilities, for your character. First and foremost, you’re all people that I trust and believe in. That was priority one. I know I can count on you. But together, we’re also a complimentary mix of offensive and defensive ability. This is going to be a tight-knit unit, one that will focus on team tactics. This group was put together with that in mind from the start.

“And that doesn’t just count for powers. Everyone brings a wide variety of assets to the mix, and I wanted that variety. All of you have things to offer that we need and will rely on.

“Some of you haven’t been on the street in a while. And I mean dark alley kind of street. Kyle and Shannon have.”

Shannon lost a little cockiness and looked a little surprised at the mention of her name, and a bit of her new-kid nervousness seemed to creep back into her face.

“Kyle knows this city’s streets, specifically, inside and out. He’s been doing this for a long time here. He knows the people, the gangs, the invisible lines between neighborhoods, who to go to for what, where to find someone who doesn’t want to be found. And the streets know him right back. He’s made a name out there. There are plenty of people who won’t trust the police, or UNCLE, but will trust Kyle. He has connections and resources out there that we’ll be calling on. Plenty.

“Shannon’s been in the middle of a mob war for months in Boston,” she said, and Shannon was trying to hide the panic she was feeling at being singled out for having some kind of expertise. “She hasn’t been soaring above the city fighting alien invaders. She’s been down in it, getting dirty, learning the players and making a difference. She doesn’t know these alleys—yet—but we all know they’re pretty much the same wherever you go. She’ll have insight we’ll need, and use.

“Most of us have been on hero teams before, but most of us also haven’t been in a long time. Bobby has. He’s spent five years with the same team. More than any one of us right now, he understands the ins and outs of that, how to work as part of a unit, the tactics involved, what works and what doesn’t, how to handle the press and the public and their perceptions of you, all of it. We’ll be turning to him for guidance and insight as we start to form and grow, and let his Forte’s successes, as well as their mistakes, teach us.

“Most of us are used to slugging it out on the streets. That will be a big part of what we do, yes. But not all of our enemies or battles will be that obvious. Crime is big business. And some of it masquerades as legitimate business. There are companies that are fronts for illegal or subversive activity. There are also countless legitimate companies that are targets for the bad guys, both the costumed and less blatant kind. Harry is a part of the corporate world, and understands both the particulars and the players, in ways no one else can. She’ll be our guide. I should also add that most of us are used to domestic operations. Harry’s work takes her all over the world, and seeing how much of an international city this is, we’ll rely on her global knowledge. All that, plus the fact that she can break into just about anywhere, with or without her teleportation.

“Most of you have been involved in some pretty big things over the years. Compared to Mark? You really haven’t. When they write the history books down the road about the major events of the late twentieth century, the name ‘Anvil’ will be all over them. And that’s just the things the historians will know about. Most of the major apocalyptic threats that we’ve faced, as a planet, have had Mark somewhere in the middle of them, playing a major role. He’s been in space, helping defeat the Saoshyant, and later almost single-handedly destroyed the Almighty just before the sun exploded.”

“That’s a pretty big ‘almost’”, Mark felt the need to add. He felt kind of obligated to let Sydney make this point, one that they’d discussed in advance and for her reasons, but that didn’t mean he had to be comfortable with it.

“He’s traveled through time. He’s been to Hell. He’s stood at the Rock of Eternity and helped stop the end of all reality. He’s been in the middle of, and helped end, an interstellar war that could have cost billions of lives, just a couple of years ago. He’s saved the world, he’s saved the universe, and though there are a handful of human beings alive in history that can say they did either one once, he’s done so multiple times. He’s seen and done things few of us can imagine, or would want to. I can only hope things here never reach that kind of level, but if they do, we’ll need someone anchoring us who’s been there. He’s also been a team leader, and a very successful one. With my still keeping up with heading UNCLE, I won’t always be around to be this team’s field leader. You’ll be looking to Mark in those times. And you’ll be able to do so with confidence.”

She looked from him to all of them. “We’ve all got plenty to bring to the table, and we’ll be using all of it. Mark also brings his scientific knowledge. And a wife that’s a devilishly talented by P.I. that could definitely help us out from time to time, if she’s willing.”

“Emphasis on the ‘devil’ part,” Mark grinned. “And she and I have already talked about that.”

“Shannon brings her mystic experience and a fresh eye that we’ll really need. Many of us have been doing too this way too long and will welcome her perspective and some new ideas. Harry—” Sydney paused, just slightly, but had to bring up something she really didn’t want to. Because it had to be said. “—has had experience on the other side of the fence, and her knowledge of the criminal side, how it works and who the players are, will be incredibly helpful with what we’re going to be doing here. Plus,” she added quickly, “she has a company manned by a group of remarkable people who are masters at what they do, and I hope we can call on that in times of need.”

“Sure,” Harry said, trying to joke and get past the awkward I-was-kind-of-a-villain moment. “If they’re sober.”

“Bobby has burgeoning computer skills to offer, plus all the resources his years with Forte bring. He has much fresher favors to call on than the rest of us. And most of his contacts haven’t retired like a lot of ours have. Kyle is…part of something that we’ll have to get into later, and at his discretion. But this will be another big plus for the cause here.”

Mark cocked his head toward Kyle and looked at him curiously. “You become a Rotarian while I was away or something?” Kyle said nothing.

“And me,” Sydney said, “aside from more years than I like to think about doing the spandex thing, I bring the resources and backing of UNCLE. I’ve now spent more time as an UNCLE operative than I have as Mist, and what I’ve learned in this capacity—and what I have access to because of it—will give us an edge most other hero teams have never known. And in addition, I happen to be married to the Sorcerer Supreme of this realm, and Stephen’s already well aware that we’ll be counting on him a lot for his knowledge and skills.”

“Or if we need our flu shots,” Mark added.

“To my second point,” Sydney went on, changing gears. “We can’t afford mistakes. I’m not going to pretend there will be no learning curve for us as a team, but ours will be purposely short. It has to be. We don’t have time for trial and error, not with the way things are out there. Other hero teams have fumbled their way through and figured it out on the fly. Not us. We’re not going to have the super-hero social club atmosphere here. This is going to be a tight unit, and a well-trained unit. I mentioned my time with UNCLE. Much of that has been as an UNCLE commander. You’re going to learn that fact. The hard way. I’ll be running this team much like an UNCLE strike team. There will be intensive combat and tactical training. Drills. Strategy. For those of you who think you’re rusty, we’re going to knock the rust off, and fast. We’re also going to make sure you unlearn a lot of what you’re used to, especially if you’re used to working solo. We’ll be doing things my way. Granted, my way will encompass drawing on each of your strengths, experience and ideas. It’s not a complete dictatorship. But ultimately, you will listen to me. There will be discipline, and structure, and we will not be out there winging it. Get used to that idea now.”

She let that sink in as she reached for her remote again. She clicked it, and the screen behind her filled with a collage of super-villain mug shots from UNCLE files.

“And finally,” she said, “we’re not waiting. The enemy is not at our gates. They’re inside the walls. They already, in many ways, own this city. We’re taking it back. The tried-and-true hero standard of waiting for the next threat to appear and playing catch-up will not be our modus operandi. Yes, there will be a lot of that, just by the nature of the situation we’re now in. But we will be aggressively proactive. We will have planned operations. Our own investigations and UNCLE intel will guide us.

“And when I say UNCLE intel, I’m talking about complete access. UNCLE is extremely generous with their sharing of information with the hero community, but our needs will exceed their good will and the limits of their regulations. I have access to all of it, and therefore, WE have access to all of it. And yes, this will mean my breaking a number of very serious federal and international laws. Please note…I don’t care. I’ve had my own hands tied by bureaucracy and red tape for too long, at the cost of lives and property and far too much ground. That will not be the case with this team. We will use every means at our disposal, legal and otherwise, to get the job done and save this city. You need to know this up front. And I need to know now if this is going to be a problem.”

And there was the bombshell. Sydney let it hang there in the air, and looked at the others, and studied them in the silence that followed. The assembled heroes either looked at her, at each other, at the table, or stared at nothing in particular, lost in their thoughts. As she’d expected, Kyle didn’t seem to be bothered. And though she looked a bit uncomfortable, Sydney knew what Harry did for a living, and how she did it, and knew any protests from her would seem—to Harry herself—laughably empty. Shannon actually looked quietly, but excitedly, pleased. Which left, as she’d figured, Mark and Bobby, who both looked gravely thoughtful. She watched them in particular, and felt the urge to hold her breath.

“Conditionally,” Mark said, finally and slowly, “no. We all know the gray area of law that heroes get to work in. Hell, it’s why law enforcement puts up with us as much as they do. We can do things they can’t, which means they can count us to go where they can’t. But we also know that gray area gets smaller every year. And it gets smaller because people like us push it too far. If we abuse it too much, we give the lawyers and anti-mask politicians the ammunition they need to clamp down. And if we’re going to start going all vigilante and ruffling too many feathers, we’re not only going to be screwing ourselves and what we’re trying to accomplish, and sinking our own credibility, but jacking things up for all the other teams out there and those that’ll come down the road. There are reasons why the lines exist. Crossing them is self-defeating.”

The others watched him and listened in silence, and waited as he paused between thoughts.

“That being said,” he went on, finally, “I trust that you’ve already thought these things through. And that you know what you’re doing.”

“Yes on the first,” Sydney said, meeting his gaze. “Guess we’ll all have to find out on the second.”

Mark watched her and nodded. “Then conditionally, no. But I’m going to need more details as we go. And I think we’re all going to need to discuss them as they come up. Fair enough?”

She nodded back. “Fair enough.” And in that moment, she found out what having a second-in-command was going to be like. She found it was something she reluctantly welcomed.

She turned her eyes to Max. “Bobby?”

Looking a little squirmy, he hesitated before answering. “He…pretty much said what I was going to say. Probably better, too. I think we all know what’s at stake here. I think you know what you’re doing. So…we’ll see how it goes, I guess.”

She nodded to him, looked the rest of the team over, then hit her remote again. Yet another villain team appeared—this one with a swastika motif to their costumes—wreaking havoc and carnage in Chinatown.

“We’re going after them,” she said, gravely. “The villains. The terrorists. The gangs. The mob. We’re going to turn over every rock they’re hiding under and flush them out. And take them out. And put them away. And get them the hell out of San Francisco. With each success, we will send a message. And also make ourselves a lot of enemies. The bad guys will not go quietly. Once they realize we’re not going away, they will fight with everything they have to hold on to what they have. They won’t be fighting for bragging rights or street cred. They will be trying to eliminate us, to remove the threat permanently. Remember that old unspoken rule, where the villains—well, most of them—were afraid to kill a hero for fear of bringing the whole hero community down on them? Remember it fondly. You won’t see it here. Once we start this thing, we’re going to be fighting for our lives. I wish I didn’t mean that literally. But there it is.”

She tried not to notice Harry nervously rubbing her thumb, over and over, on the back of her other hand.

Again, Sydney touched her remote.

This time, a new set of images started flowing by, dissolving into one another as they went in a continual series. There were no villains in these. These were photos of people. People of all ages and races. Happy people. Families. Groups of friends. Groups meeting at events in the park. Runners doing the marathon. Policeman posing with grins with extravagantly-costumed revelers at the Pride parade. Giants fans celebrating in the stands at AT&T Park.

Sydney leaned forward, with her elbows on the table, and spoke to them as the pictures rolled along behind her. “But it’s not just our lives we’ll be fighting for. It’s theirs. The decent, hard-working people of San Francisco. People from all over the world. Families. Folks who’ve been here for generations, some who’ve just come here, looking for a fresh start. People who want, and deserve, to be happy, and safe, and pursue their dreams and live their lives without fear. We’re going to take that fear away, finally, and give them their city back.

“And,” she laughed, “I won’t lie to you about this, either. Not all of them will be grateful. The more we fight for them, the more a lot of them will start calling us thugs, and fascists, and…well, a lot of other things. That’s just another truth about this town. Another thing that makes it…unique. Be ready to work your asses off and get crucified in some of our wonderful daily papers. Comes with the job. Trust me, I speak from experience. But we’re not doing it for thanks. We’re doing it because they need us, whether they want to think they do or not. We’re doing it because it’s right, and because we’re the only ones who can. We will stand up for them. We will give them hope again. That’s why you’re all here. That’s what Forge will be about.”

The last still photos faded, and the screen once again became part of the panoramic view surrounding them. Everyone sat quietly, feeling the weight of what they were now a part of.

Sydney smiled at them. “Any questions?”

Harry raised her hand sheepishly, and Sydney turned her eyes toward her in response.

“Um,” Harry said, “kind of an embarrassing one. But…is there, like, a bathroom in here?”

Sydney laughed. “As luck would have it, yes. And I think now’s a good time for a quick break anyway. I have to check on something.” She pointed to a windowed door to Harry’s left. “Right through there and to your right, my dear. And anyone else who needs it.”

“Thanks,” Harry grinned, standing up and looking at everyone apologetically. “I’ll just be a sec.”

“It’s like living with a six-year old,” Mark said with a smirk, shaking his head. And around him, the tension in the room, with the big speech over, seemed to lift.

 

---

 

Sydney had disappeared through the same door as Harry (having gone left instead of right), which left Anvil, Max, Secundus and Heatspell alone in the conference room. Mark, just after the exit of the other ladies, had said aloud that he just HAD to go check out the computer bank that was behind Sydney’s chair, and he was doing so. Secundus had stayed at his seat and was checking out the keyboard and screen in front of him. Bobby and Shannon had stayed at their chairs as well, but the silence between them didn’t last long.

“Pretty exciting, huh?” Shannon asked, turning to Bobby, suddenly, with a dazzling smile.

“Huh?” Bobby said, coming out of the deep thought he was in and turning his head to her. “Oh, yeah,” he said, smiling back at her. “Big day.”

“I still can’t believe I’m here,” she said to him. “I mean, this is probably pretty normal stuff to you, but I’m still new to it, so…you know, wow.” She laughed.

“No, it’s pretty big for me, too,” he said, laughing with her. “I’m on a team, yeah…well, I WAS…but nothing like this. We were never really…this formal. At all. We kind of just hung out. Like Sydney said, we pretty much made it up as we went along. We were all really new when we started. This feels…major. Real.”

“Yeah, but you were in FORTE,” she said, resting her chin on her cupped hand and smiling at him. “That’s really cool.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he nodded. “It was…really great. It’s weird talking about it like it’s something that’s over, though. Still doesn’t feel like it.”

“I bet that was hard. Leaving all your friends.”

“Yeah. But, hey…this is important. Like Sydney said. So that made it easier. We’re really going to be doing something good here.”

He suddenly remembered the “special project” that Sydney had assigned him to when it came to this girl, back when she’d first pitched the invitation to him in Seattle, and felt an urgent need—with such an opportune moment—to address it. Here it was, the first day, and already he was behind on his homework.

“So listen,” he said, sitting up straight and getting into mentor mode. “Looks like we’re going to be working together here for a while. I thought maybe we could find some time to talk about—”

“Great!” she said, suddenly, enthusiastically, cutting him off. “You want to go get some coffee or something after we’re done here?”

“Uh…” he said, blinking, a little stonewalled at her reaction.

“Or how ‘bout dinner?” she asked. “We could go to my place. I’m a pretty good cook. And I haven’t got to have any company since I moved here. I’d love to break my new kitchen in proper.”

“Oh,” he said, still trying to play catch-up and still wondering where the other half of his pre-planned sentence went to. She watched him, smiling, undaunted by his tepid reaction. “Um…well, I don’t know what Sydney’s got planned for us today. I guess…we’d have to see…”

Kyle raised his masked head slightly, watching the two of them (and watching Bobby squirm). He almost imperceptibly shook his head and went back to exploring his seat’s computer.

 

---

 

Harry coughed and breathed hard, down on one knee in the stall, and held on to the white bowl. She kept her eyes closed for another couple of moments to get herself in control. When she was sure she was reasonably there, she reached up and flushed the toilet, trying to ignore the wave of shame and self-loathing that washed over her.

She wiped her mouth absently with the back of her hand and stood up, and opened the stall door and stepped out. She started immediately at the sight of Sydney standing there, quietly, with her back to the wall near the door.

“Jesus,” Harry breathed, letting the extra beats to her heart pass. “Don’t you ever use a door?”

She went to the sink, doing her best to avoid eye contact with Sydney, who continued to watch her. “You know, just because you CAN walk through walls doesn’t mean you HAVE to. You don’t see me teleporting into the john every time I have to take a leak.”

“You okay?” Sydney asked, quietly.

“I’m fine,” Harry shot back, defensively, with more bite than she’d intended. She turned her head and met Sydney’s gaze, then turned back to the sink and turned on the cold water. “I’m fine,” she repeated. “Okay? I’m just…getting up to speed. Don’t mother me.”

Sydney continued to watch her as she splashed water on her face and took some into her mouth, swishing it around and spitting. Harry quickly turned off the faucet and went to the paper towel dispenser.

“Don’t tell anybody,” Harry said, bitterly, yanking a couple of towels loose and wiping her face.

“Didn’t plan to,” Sydney said.

Harry sighed hard and wadded up the damp towels and threw them away. She put her hands on her hips for a moment and stood there, staring at the wall, and then ran her hands through her hair and took a seat on the counter, facing her former—and now current—teammate. She reached into her boot and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and her lighter, and pulled and lit one.

“Am I going to get detention for this?” Harry asked, waving her cigarette.

Sydney smiled mildly but didn’t answer that point. Instead, she finally said, “It’s a lot to take in. It was meant to be. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Harry answered, bringing her knees up and leaning back against the mirror, taking a long drag. “I’ll be fine. I meant what I said. I’m here. This is my choice. And I’m dealing with it.” She laughed cruelly. “By dealing with it, of course, I mean puking my guts up like a rookie.”

“You’re not a—”

Harry raised a hand to cut her off. Sydney let her.

Harry closed her eyes and leaned her head back. The two women stayed silent for a few moments before Harry spoke again.

“Don’t ask me if I can do this. I can.”

“I know,” Sydney said softly, and silently let her guilt embrace her.

Harry blew out a long breath, sat back up, and slipped off the counter. She forced a weak smile, and Sydney forced one back. Then, suddenly struck by a thought, Harry curiously looked at the trash bin she’d just used.

“We don’t have janitors, do we?”

“No,” Sydney grinned.

“So, in addition to all this, I’m going to be cleaning toilets and mopping and taking out the garbage.”

“When it’s your turn, yes.”

“God,” Harry sighed. “I’m a CEO, you know. Doesn’t that get me any special treatment?”

“At least there aren’t any windows to wash,” Sydney offered.

After she grinned, Harry said, “And on that subject…

“Where the hell ARE we, anyway?”

 

---

 

“You are currently sitting,” Sydney said to the reassembled group at the table around her, “in the former secret base of operations for the villain team known as the Dominators.”

The heroes all exchanged uncertain glances.

“Who?” Mark verbalized for them.

“Exactly,” Sydney nodded. “There’s a reason you haven’t heard of them. To call these guys a one-hit wonder would be overly kind. Their one hit didn’t exactly make the charts. At least not in the way they’d wanted. But they did have delusions of grandeur on an Ian Fleming scale, as you can see by the building around you.

“An armored would-be master villain named Nero—”

Harry raised her eyebrows.

“I’m not kidding,” Sydney said in response, then went on. “—Decided to put together his own team of bad guys. He recruited, and got a team of six together, and chose the wonderfully masculine name for their little band. He decided to make San Francisco their base of operations for their dreams of world domination. And with his group, he built this place. An underground lair packed with everything you’d expect from an evil genius who read too many comics as a kid. One that had handy secret exits around the city, one with Bay access, one with super-computers and labs and gadgets and nifty surveillance gear to keep an eye on his future kingdom.”

“And no one noticed all this construction?” Mark asked. “I assume they used the Scabs, right?”

“The Scabs?” Heatspell asked, shaking her head in confusion.

“Oh,” Mark said, turning to her. “Evil construction workers.”

“Pardon?” she asked, blinking, looking at him like he was kidding.

“There’s a network of contractors, mainly made up of cons, that do a lot of the building work for bad guys.”

“Are you joking?”

“Not at all,” he said, and as she turned her eyes to Sydney for a moment, Sydney nodded to her to confirm his words. “Somebody’s got to build all these secret bases, right? Villains got ‘em, guys like Mandate and Chess got ‘em. Your average bad guy is too full of himself to get his hands dirty. So over the years this secret society of…well, evil handymen came into being. Kind of the same method as recruiting henchmen. It’s all hush-hush. Word of mouth only. When someone needs some work done, the word goes out, and suddenly, these guys show up like migrant workers at a pre-arranged pick-up spot. They’re usually blindfolded in some way or drugged or mind-controlled so they don’t know where they’re going. And they do the job. The pay’s usually pretty spectacular, so it’s worth the risk that the bad guys might want to six you in case you ever want to spill their evil beans. Generally, they don’t, because if they started doing that, workers would stop hiring on, and then they’d have to hammer and spackle on their own. But the fear’s there enough that the workers aren’t dumb enough to talk much. So it works out for everyone. The really smart bad guys find a mentalist and do a mind-wipe.”

“UNCLE’s known about it for years,” Sydney added. “Most heroes, too. And we keep breaking it up. But we get one ringleader and shut things down, and then someone else picks up the slack in another city and starts it again. They came to be known as the Scabs.”

“I had no idea,” Shannon said, dumbfounded.

“But to answer your question, Mark, no. No Scabs. The Dominators had a speedster. One who happened to start his career in construction. And they had a tunneller, too. And Nero’s big brain to tell them exactly what to build, just the way he wanted.”

“Lucky bastards,” Mark said, enviously. “We always had to do it the old-fashioned way.”

“Well, on the sly,” Sydney went on with her tale, “they built their little clubhouse. And in it, they made their plans. Lots of them. A whole agenda. And their first one involved, for some reason, blowing up the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“Original,” Harry said with an eye-roll.

“Guess they wanted to announce their presence to the world in a big way. To their credit, if there’s credit due for such a thing, it was planned as a distraction for a bigger theft. But the whole operation sent up a few minor flares, and I started getting wind of it. Part of the trail led to Sacramento, so Captain Comet got involved. This was a couple of years back, by the way. I put on the costume, one of my rare times back then, and teamed up with Comet. Seemed easier to do as Mist. I was going to bring UNCLE in on it when we had more concrete intel, but things suddenly moved really fast, and he and I ended up on this ship in the Bay. With all six Dominators hidden inside. Them, and their bomb. There was a big speech from Nero. Five of them had us surrounded. But all of a sudden their energy guy, DNAeon, comes running up from below deck, screaming about a matrix breach or some such. The rest looked just frozen in panic, staring at him. Comet took the chance to grab me and fly us straight up. Fast. He’s called Comet for a reason. And then, well…”

“Oh, my God,” Mark laughed. “You’re talking about those assholes who blew themselves up in the Bay? THOSE guys?”

“Same assholes,” Sydney smiled. “Made the papers for a couple of days. I only leaked enough info in the UNCLE release to call them an unknown villain team. I suppose I owed them at least a mention of their name. You know, their last mortal act and all. But, they WERE trying to kill me. And blow up my bridge. So, I figured, screw ‘em.”

“I remember that,” Max said. “Wow, you were there?”

“Thankfully, not for TOO long,” Sydney grinned. “I still owe Comet for that save.”

“So we’re living in the home of a bunch of dead guys?” Harry realized. “Ewww.”

Sydney shrugged. “Wasn’t anybody else using it. And the rent’s cheap.”

Mark finished getting his chuckling under control. “So who knows about this place, then? It’s in the UNCLE files, I assume, right?”

“Well…” Sydney said, pulling a guilty face.

“Commander STRANGE,” Harry gasped, faking shock but actually pleasantly impressed.

“Comet and I tracked it down. And I was, of course, going to get an UNCLE crew down here to scour every inch of it. Maybe make some use of it as a hidden base of operations for us, if Command would approve it…which I doubt they would have. I’m sure they would have just commandeered it for a SHIELD hub. But…I don’t know. I just got to checking the place out. And I started thinking about all of us—the Forte us—and how many times we’ve been hunted, on the run, whatever. I’m not really sure what came over me, but I just…kept putting off telling anyone about it. I thought it might make a good safe house. Like if the Forte base every got compromised. Again. Like with Lucifer D’Arque that time. I thought this could be a place we could get all the kids to. And the non-super spouses. Family members, friends, whatever. And I thought, you know, not just Forte. The other teams, too. Kind of a super-hero safe haven.”

“Nice thought,” Mark said, meaning it.

“Just a little side project I had in mind. One that I got too busy to ever get back to. I was going to surprise everyone with it. Eventually. And then, all of a sudden, I got this wacky team idea, and…it all kind of fell into place.”

“Free base,” Mark nodded. “Compliments of the Dominators. May they rest in peace.”

“I like the symmetry,” Kyle said, and everyone tried not to be shocked that he actually spoke.

“Me, too,” Harry agreed. “Creepy though it may be. Out of the bad…”

“So how big is it?” Bobby asked.

“Big enough,” Sydney said. “There are sleeping quarters. Coincidentally six. With some less furnished spares. Guess they were planning on future recruiting. There’s a very big and nicely armored training and workout room that takes up a whole floor. There’s some labs, which I hope Mark will get some use out of. A very big kitchen, another bonus for Mark. Some holding cells for those special hostages they were probably planning on taking. There’s an actual swimming pool.”

“Wow,” Shannon said.

“Complete with spa and sauna. No point in being a master villain without the comforts, I suppose. Some other nice amenities, too, we’ll be getting to. Including one very big one that I’ll be showing you.”

“So when do we get the tour?” Mark asked.

“After,” Sydney smiled, “you open those boxes in front of you.”

“About time,” Harry said, grabbing hers. “I wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer.”

They all opened their boxes, with varying degrees of speed, and started pulling out and examining the contents.

“These are your tools,” Sydney said, watching them. “That,” she said, as Heatspell cautiously examined the small electronic rectangle in her palm, “is your specially-modified Forge-only Questpad. Compliments of Johnny. Everyone take a look.”

Everyone opened up the covers and looked at the small screens. Those who found the power buttons saw the Forge logo they’d seen earlier come up on it.

“WORK that brand,” Mark grinned, checking it out.

“This is the first power up. We’re going to get them DNA specific to you before the day is through. You, and your teammates, just in case, will be able to activate them, period. No one else. They’re tied right into the base computer. You’ll be able to access all the databases you’ll have available to you, which will be plenty. This will be an important tool for field intelligence. They’re also set up for video capture and broadcast. You’ll be able to get both video and photos and beam them right to the mainframe. This will help our information gathering. And communication, as you can beam video back and forth between them, so therefore between each other. There are a lot of other features we’ll go through in detail with an online tutorial Johnny put together for us.”

“MP3 player?” Harry asked.

“Naturally.”

“Sweet,” she smiled, fiddling with the menus.

“Wait,” Shannon said. “Johnny? You don’t mean Johnny Quest?”

“Yep,” Sydney said.

“THE Johnny Quest?”

“The one and only. Johnny’s a very old friend of Forte, Shannon. He’s pretty much part of the family. A lot of the tech you’ll see in here either comes from him or was checked out and spruced up by him. We owe him a lot of thanks here. Which I hope you’ll be able to do in person soon. I’ll be having him stop by again once we’re up and running.”

Shannon made a small, thoughtfully pleased sound (clearly impressed by the idea of being somehow involved in something that involved one of the most famous rich guys in the world) and went back to checking out her pad.

“So both Johnny AND Comet know where we live,” Mark said. “So conceivably they could team up and destroy us. I’ll be sleeping with one eye open every night now.”

“In case any of you are wondering,” Sydney continued, “what happens if you lose yours—which you WON’T—or if someone steals it off you while you’re taking a smack-nap? All the data, and the power, is broadcast only. Nothing stored inside. Even if they could power it up, they wouldn’t find anything in it. Automatic shut off happens if you lose contact with it. Only you can reactivate it. The tutorial will explain it all.”

Mark found the camera feature on his, and turned toward Secundus, holding his pad up near his face and looking at its display. “Big smile, Kyle,” he said.

The masked Secundus merely shook his head as Anvil snapped his photo.

“And these,” Sydney said, holding up a watch that had a tiny plastic baggie attached to it with an even tinier electronic device in it, “are you radios. These will be nothing new to Bobby. They’re the standard ones used by his Forte team. Their design works perfectly for our purposes. You’ll each have to get the receiver implanted in your ear. Except Bobby, who already has one. We’ll just be using a different frequency set, Bobby. You can still keep in touch with your pals. Plus, we’ll all be able to reach Forte if we need to as well. We just won’t be able to listen in on their frequencies without their activation, as I promised them that courtesy. Very simple. The ear implant broadcasts and receives. It’s always there so you can never accidentally leave yours at home. The watches open up—I hope I got everyone’s tastes right with your watch styles, by the way—and the controls inside let you do your dialing. Simple variation on our old Forte watches, so nothing too new to us old folks. Shannon, Bobby will walk you though it. And don’t worry…the implanting doesn’t hurt. Stephen will be doing it for us. You won’t even know it’s in there until you start hearing voices.”

“I know it sounds kind of weird,” Bobby told Shannon, who was looking at her watch with some trepidation, “but you get used to it. Honest. There’s a little tone that goes off in your ear before a call comes in. The first few times it kind of makes you jump, but it gets normal.”

“Okay,” Shannon overly smiled at him.

“And this?” Harry asked, holding up what looked like a pretty low-tech car key.

“That,” Sydney said, “is a smart key. Looks normal, but it’s going to be DNA-activated, too. No one but us will be able to use them.”

“And what exactly will we use them ON?” Harry asked.

Sydney smiled widely. “Maybe it’s best if I just show you.”

 

---

 

The elevator door opened on a large chamber, lit by rows of florescents above, one that took up the whole floor they’d just dropped to. Mark was the one to let out a surprised laugh.

“Everyone,” Sydney said, stepping out. “The garage.”

They all followed her, out into a room lined with numerous vehicles. Some were minivans. Some were sedans. There were a couple of sportier cars. And there was a line of very impressive-looking motorcycles. The two things all of them had in common was that they were white, and that they, somewhere on them, had the Forge logo.

“You see why I was relieved you all liked the logo,” Sydney grinned.

“Wow,” Bobby said, looking around.

“Good God, Syd,” Harry said. “How much did you have to spend on all this? I thought you said you did this on the cheap.”

“I did,” Sydney beamed. “Most of what you’re seeing here was bought with favors only. Mostly compliments of SHIELD. Well, of Nick Fury, specifically.”

“Nick gone into the used car business?” Mark asked, leaning down and looking through the window of a Ford Taurus. “I knew they had budget cuts going on, but this is a little sad.”

“Something like that,” Sydney said. “But as you’re going to see, there’s a bit more to these than meets the eye. But…I think I’d rather have someone else explain that to you all. We have a couple of special guests who are going to walk us through this part of our tour. Guests who have been working some long hours to get these all ready for us.

“Oh, guests?” she said loudly.

Everyone looked around, and saw a pair walk out of what looked like a storage room set into one wall. The man was plainly dressed in jeans and a black tee shirt, Hispanic with a mustache. The Chinese woman with him was immediately recognizable to (mostly) everyone in the room, was wearing coveralls, and was smiling from ear to ear.

“Well look who’s here!” Harry said happily in Tinker’s direction.

The two new arrivals walked toward the group. Tinker, herself, walked much faster, and was nearly doing a controlled skip as she headed straight for the shocked and smiling Max.

“Hey!” Bobby said to her as she came bounding up, and his happiness was laced with a kind of relief that seemed to drain away most of his tension (tension he hadn’t really realized he was carrying).

She reached him quickly and they made to hug, but both stopped awkwardly, as if they’d forgotten how the act worked. This was, after all, the first time the teammates had seen each other since his good-bye in Seattle—a good-bye that had ended with an unexpected and rather spectacular kiss. Tinker was the one who finally laughed at the silliness of the moment, rolled her eyes with a small blush and threw her arms around him.

“Hey, big guy,” she said as she squeezed him.

“Oh, man, it’s good to see you,” he said as he hugged her back.

For those who noticed, Shannon looked clearly displeased.

“Who DOESN’T know where we live?” Mark asked.

“Heatspell,” Sydney said as Tinker and Max completed their hug. “I’d like you to meet Tinker, who I’m sure you recognize from Forte.”

“Hi,” Tinker said brightly, extending her hand to the girl. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Hi,” Heatspell said back, a little stiffly, and with a frozen smile, shaking the other woman’s hand.

“And this,” Sydney said, turning to the man approaching, “is…um…our friend Rodrigo.”

Anvil looked at Rodrigo’s face, studied it oddly for a moment, and then rolled his eyes in an annoyed realization.

“Very nice to meet you,” Rodrigo said in an accent that was probably born in Spain, not Mexico.

“You, too,” Shannon said, politely but warily, not entirely sure why this average-looking man was in a gathering of people in costumes.

“Tinker and Rodrigo,” Sydney said, “have been here working hard on our new vehicles. I asked for their help once I was pretty sure I was going to pull off the deal. Rodrigo has been—”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Anvil sighed with unmasked exasperation. “It’s VANGUARD. Okay? It’s Vanguard without his mask. And he’s in disguise. So now she knows what Vanguard DOESN’T look like without his mask. Can we PLEASE do away with the Artemus Gordon?”

Rodrigo stared at Anvil quietly, without emotion. Everyone stayed silent for a moment.

Finally, Vanguard turned back to Heatspell and shook her hand, and spoke in his natural British accent. “Very nice to meet you.”

“You…too,” Shannon said.

Nightshift came up behind Vanguard and put her arms around his shoulders. “Good to see you, Big V. Even with the mustache.”

“Vanguard is retired,” Sydney explained to Heatspell as Tinker exchanged hugs with the heroes that she already knew. “But, luckily, he’s still the best mechanic I know and was willing to lend us a hand.”

“Ahem,” Tinker said loudly, turning her head from a hug with Anvil.

“One of the TWO best,” Sydney amended, to Tinker’s satisfaction. “Which is why I wanted them both here. They’ve both put in a lot of long hours and put their lives on hold for this project, so we officially owe them. Thanks again, both of you.”

“Yeah,” Bobby said, shaking Vanguard’s hand. “Thanks, guys. This is awesome.”

“Working on vehicles or chasing five kids around the house,” Vanguard deadpanned (as usual). “The decision was agonizing, but I managed.”

“Let’s see if we can define that ‘awesome’ a little more, shall we?” Sydney said, taking some backward steps further into the garage. “If you’ll follow me?”

They all began to, and Tinker did so with her arm around Bobby. Heatspell walked behind them, watching this silently. Vanguard fell into step next to Anvil.

“Tattletale,” Vanguard muttered.

“Cross-dresser,” Anvil muttered back with a smirk.

“As you can see,” Sydney said loudly, pointing around her like a flight attendant, “there are exit doors on three sides. One leads to a vehicle elevator. The other two lead to tunnels. One of these tunnels ends in another elevator several blocks away. The second goes even further, to a chamber out on the Bay. Kind of under the Bay, actually. But let’s focus on the first two.

“Both elevators raise up to buildings that we—by default—own. One’s a warehouse, one’s a closed-down auto shop. Both will let us take our vehicles out from here and get out into the city quick. There are security systems in these buildings that are tied into our base, so they’re safe. We can also, if need be, park our vehicles in the lot outside here and walk in the front door.”

“And the big logos on the side won’t be a little obvious?” Harry asked.

“Let’s let Vanguard talk about that,” Sydney said, as though expecting the question. “Vanguard, if you will?”

‘Rodrigo’ stepped up to one of the minivans. “What you’re seeing here look like average late-model vehicles,” he said. “With the exception of the logos. They aren’t average. All these cars are UNCLE surplus vehicles, ones that were out of use and that Sydney was able to talk Nick Fury out of. They all needed work, which is what Tinker and I have been toiling at.”

He opened the driver door and settled into the seat as the rest of the group stepped up and watched him.

“The idea behind these vehicles is that they will get you, as a team, around town without the need of self-transport. They will also let you do so in an uncostumed capacity, which will let you get to your destinations or do your investigations without drawing attention. And they will do so like this, to answer your question, Nightshift.”

He leaned forward and tapped a button on the dash. Suddenly, the white paint on the van’s body, and the Forge logo, melted away like an Etch-A-Sketch had just been shaken. Suddenly, the paint job became a factory blue, complete with spots of corrosion and chipping.

“Oooh,” Harry said.

“This is smart paint,” Vanguard explained. “Urban camouflage. When you’re undercover, you’ll look like an average citizen driving an average van. But when you’re on team business and costumed up…” He tapped the same button, and the white and logo reappeared. “You’re flying the colors. Citizens will know that their heroes are driving by.”

“Yeah,” Mark said, dubiously. “In an Aerostar. No offense, Syd, but are we really impressing the public if we’re showing up at a crime scene looking like a bunch of soccer moms?”

“Trust me,” Vanguard answered for her. “They’ll be impressed. If you’d all take three steps back, please?”

The group did as requested, all suddenly very curious.

Vanguard turned the key and started the engine up. He closed the door and rolled down the window. Then he hit another button, and a display folded down in front of him from the van’s ceiling and lit up. He pressed another button, and suddenly a loud whine filled the room as the engine seemed to rev higher.

And the van started to float.

“Holy shit!” Heatspell blurted out, looked momentarily embarrassed at having done so, but quickly realized that she was watching a van float above the floor so that probably wasn’t the highest priority on her list of things to be thinking about at the moment.

As they watched, the tires on the van started sliding outward, and began to turn upward as they lowered on segmented axel arms. Vanguard pressed another button, and jets ignited from the bottom of them (loudly, but not as loudly as might have been expected). The gawking heroes felt the warm blast of rushing air flap their pant legs. Secundus’ loose trousers billowed behind him like a waving flag, but, being the only one of them not surprised, he stood unmoving with his hands joined behind his back. The van rose further from the floor as the whine grew louder, and it, and Vanguard, hovered about ten feet off the deck.

Vanguard casually pulled a microphone with a coiled cable on it from another compartment in the ceiling and spoke into it.

“These are SHIELD standard issue flying cars,” his voice said, booming harshly through speakers in the van they couldn’t see. “Most of you probably haven’t seen one, as, like SHIELD, they really don’t see use within the U.S. borders. They’re mostly found in Europe and Asia, and in other countries where SHIELD doesn’t have to be quite so subtle about their presence. They’re very handy for getting somewhere in a hurry, for a quick getaway, or very useful for crowd control. In your case, they will get you around the city without the need for a wide landing area like my Forte had to have for the Silver Bullet, or Max’s Forte with the Mariner. You’ve either got ground transport, or highly compact air mobility.”

Working some controls on the steering wheel (only a couple of them noticed the center of the wheel had flipped over reveal a new panel when he’d started the jets), Vanguard brought the flying van slowly back down to Earth. As it neared the floor, the wheels rotated back once more and slid into place, and the vehicle touched down on the bottom of the tires once more. Vanguard then cut the engine and stepped out.

“I stand corrected,” Anvil said. “Flying soccer moms to the rescue.”

“If you noticed,” Vanguard said, “flight control systems deployed during transformation. You will each be trained on how to use these, and how to fly each of these vehicles. It’s much more intuitive and less complex than aircraft piloting, so learning will be easier than you think. But Tinker and I will be taking you all through it. Mostly for those of you without piloting experience, unlike Anvil.”

“That is so cool,” Max grinned excitedly.

“We’ll go through the additional features as well,” Vanguard said. “Polarizing windows, security systems, communications gear and the like. You’ll all be qualified in no time, just like SHIELD agents.”

“Nick GAVE you these?” Harry asked Sydney.

“Yep,” Sydney answered. “Like Vanguard said, they really needed work. There’s a reason they were out of service. But he and Tinker have gotten them all in tip-top shape. We’ll get a lot of use out of them. The nice part about the paint is that we can pull around a corner, hit the switch, and suddenly we’ll be in a totally average-looking car, and able to get back to base with less notice. Very handy. But the flight part will be key. It’ll be a very dramatic visual when we show up on scene. That’s what we’re looking for right now. To get people talking.”

“Yeah, that should do it,” Mark agreed.

“And speaking of Tinker,” Sydney smiled at the coveralled heroine. “Would you care to walk us through the next part of the car show?”

“I would,” Tinker grinned, walking backward through the parked cars and beckoning with her hands. “Students? If you’ll follow me? And no gum-chewing, please.”

The rest followed her toward the line of white motorcycles. Eight motorcycles, to be exact. All with the Forge logos on the gas tanks and fairings.

“Boys and girls,” she said, resting her hand proudly on one of the bikes. “Your Forgecicles.”

“Forge CYCLES,” Vanguard said, shaking his head.

“I like Forgecicles,” Tinker whispered to them loudly with her hand by her mouth. Quickly moving on, she said, “What you have here are heavily-modified 2005 Ducati 999Rs. I call these the 999F. They’re Supersport models base-comparable to Ducati’s competition bikes. Testastretta engines, 150 horsepower. Personally, I think 150 horsepower is for schoolgirls, so I did some rethinks and rebuilds on the engines from the case up, and some electronic work for increased fuel injection. Tweaked the chassis a bit, reworked the air ducts, overhauled the suspension. Adding a few more innovations that I REALLY must patent, what you’re left with is a BEAST. Horsepower…for…days. I don’t know if the word ‘badass’ is actually IN the dictionary, but if it is, they’re going to have to change the definition, and put a photo of one of these next to it. And one of me, of course.

“But there’s more than speed poured into these,” she continued, walking around the bike as she spoke to them. “Cockpit displays sport on-line GPS, communications, and automapping. All well and good. But big thing that really separates your bikes from other bikes on the street would have to be the security measures. If I may…”

She pulled a small remote from the pocket of her coveralls, held it up, and pressed a button. Suddenly, with eye-popping speed, panels of some kind of metal fed out from the front and cockpit fairings, quickly covering the bike, its wheels, everything, right down to the floor. What was left looked like an impressionist metal sculpture of a bike. The bike itself had disappeared.

“Damn,” Mark commented.

“Alloys rock,” Tinker grinned. “With your patented Tinker Turtleguard activated, you can leave your bike parked anywhere as you run off and throw down with the bad guys. It will not be stolen. It will not be tipped over. Why?”

She stepped back and kicked the side of it as hard as she could. The metal shield showed no mark, and the bike did not move a centimeter.

“What you got down there at the bottom is what we call a gravimetric seal. That means the bike is going nowhere. Period. Not until you release it. You can drive a Silverado 2500 quad-cab into it at sixty miles an hour, and the truck will LOSE. The bike will still be standing. So try to avoid parking it in the middle of the road. Or in front of a hydrant. Firemen won’t like you anymore. And please,” she added, holding up the remote, “try not to turn it on while you’re actually ON the bike, okay?”

“This will be your primary mode of transportation,” Sydney said, stepping up next to Tinker and giving the other woman a quick shoulder hug of appreciation. “Most of you can ride. Those who can’t will learn and learn FAST. Those who can, even experienced riders like Anvil, will still be trained by Tinker and Vanguard for THIS machine. Whatever you’re used to, it is nothing like this. It’s a very powerful bike, and we need to make sure you’re in control of it, not the other way around. Basic riding training will be supplemented with combat riding. You will not become proficient riders; you will become professionals.”

Max timidly raised his hand.

“Bobby?” Sydney said, acknowledging him.

“Umm,” he said, carefully. “I can…actually…fly.”

“Yes, Bobby,” Sydney said with a patient smile. “I KNOW that you can fly. As can half this team. However, what I DON’T want is a team of high and mighty super-heroes, soaring above the city in the clouds, looking down on the citizens below. I want you down WITH the people. Among them. We need to be a visible presence on the streets, and not just so the bad people know we’re there. I want us acces