When the call came in the front desk was being manned by The Grip. Gladys Householder, born in Hackensack in 1920, was a teenage beauty whose mutation was among the first really dramatic ones not to take the life of the mutated. Less than five feet tall but just as wide, puffed up with leathery skin thick and tough enough to stop bullets and with a bald head one third of her body, she was horrifying by most definitions but a sweetheart demeanor made her one of the best-loved members of the Nine as well as one of the founders.
At ninety-two she was effectively retired, horrified by her last big combat in the field, but still sharp and not sure what else to do, she instead became a security guard. Her second job as a “Reserve Auxiliary” member meant she did little aside from defend the building now. In the past decade nothing had been big enough to change that but, if a threat big enough came along, she’d have to fight. She didn’t look forward to it but if needed, she knew she’d accept the call.
Since nobody was ever dumb enough to attack the Zorman building Gladys tended to drift off around this time in the evening. The phone ringing almost didn’t work but, on ring eight, she finally snapped to. “Zorman Building, Gladys speaking.”
“Is this the office for the New York Nine?” came a masculine voice.
“Well, sir, this is the front desk for their building. People don’t tend to make phone calls directly to the Nine, y’know. What’s your business?”
“This is Captain Staley of the New York State Highway Patrol. One of our patrolmen has hooked up with a … well, an unaffiliated member of your social class, I suppose.”
“A solo hero?”
“Yes. Two of them I should say. It was a traffic stop, they were speeding in a modified Winnebago, one of the big jobbies, with … tentacles coming out the bottom?”
“Tentacles?”
“Yes, giant, golden tentacles that seemed like they glowed in the dim evening light. They were keeping the RV from tipping over at extreme high speed.”
“Okay.” Gladys’ deep base voice rumbled as she considered her words. “So you need help with these two? You think they might be unlicensed? Dangerous?”
“I honestly don’t know. Our boy on the scene, Officer Logan, has been keeping sporadic radio contact. Apparently a big-time supervillain is falling from space and they’re moving to intercept.”
Long pause. Gladys really didn’t know what to make of theat. “Hello?” the police Captain asked, thinking perhaps they’d lost contact.
“Yes, I’m still here. So you’re concerned about this villain?”
“You have no idea. There is, I guess, a high level of confidence that he’s going to survive the fall from space. These two boys have, apparently, lost their third man and our Officer doesn’t see them as necessarily being able to handle anything tough enough to fall to Earth and bounce on impact if you catch my drift.”
With almost perfect timing two members of the Nine entered the lobby. The Solar Scion and their newest member, Amazon, were in civilian clothes and seemingly on their way out of the building. “I do.” Snapping the fingers of her massive right hand she got their attention. Speaking louder now, indicating that they should listen, Gladys grabbed a notepad. “So we have a high-level threat falling from space where exactly?” Listening, she scribbled down “East of Holcomb Pond” before taking down the coordinates, Latitude and Longitude. “Okay, I’ll have our best man out to make sure that threat is dealt with. Thank you. Yes, goodbye.” Gingerly, holding the phone receiver by the special two-finger handle that let her use it, Gladys hung up.
“For the love of Christ, now? Nothing all day and now?” grumbled the Scion in his civilian guise of Stanley Stickle. “What is it?” Looking at Stanley frustrated Gladys. They were the same age, within a year, but he got to keep his looks. All that power. Worse; he liked them young. Amazon, whose name escaped Gladys still, was in her twenties. The bottle-blonde crossed her arms and shook her head impatiently.
“Maybe something. Maybe nothing.” Grip said. “We’ve got a guy dropping out of orbit, not sure how he got there, but he’s in freefall after an unsuccessful orbit and we have it on authority from someone in the know that he’s gonna survive it. A supervillain.”
“Oh yeah, sure, a supervillain. Because we get so many of those. Sure as hell we only ever deal with them once, maybe twice, before they wind up in jail under disruption lights. Besides, if Simon wanted me to go why isn’t he telling me over the earpiece.”
“It’s not him, Stan. It was a phonecall from the police.”
Tucking his chin, eyebrows shooting up, Scion showed obvious surprise. “What are you saying? Simon doesn’t know?”
“Well,” Gladys considered, “Simon tends to know everything. But I’m not sure.”
“Give me that.” Snatching up the tiny notepad Stan scrutinized the writing. “I will never understand how you write so small.” Pausing, nodding, Stan muttered. “Mm-hm. So campgrounds, wilderness, wetlands. Eh, what the hell? I hit the upper atmosphere I can be there in thirty.”
“There are apparently a few, potentially, rookie heroes on-site, accompanying the Officer in the field.”
“Really? Anybody we know?”
“No name given. I don’t think the police know.”
“Sloppy. Probably means unlicensed though. Vigilantes.”
“Let’s not be too hard on anyone trying to make a difference now.”
“Oh shut it, Gladys. Christ. I’ll be the judge of what they’re trying to do, okay? You retired from field work, remember?” Gladys gave no reply but Amazon giggled, falling silent only when Gladys’ grim glare struck her.
“Anyway, these are the coordinates, huh? You want in on this?” he asked Amazon, his tone making clear he’d forgotten her real name.
“Lucy! My name is Lucy, remember? Lucy Phair.”
“Right … forgot it sounded like a joke.”
“What was that?” Growled Lucy, apprehensively. She was, apparently, a hothead.
“Nothing. Just remembering your name before joining the Nine and how it was a pun on your real name.”
“I still prefer Devil Girl. Any time you wanna change it back I’ll do it.”
“No for so many reasons. No, because of all the low-level guys who died when you went ham on them. No because it pissed off the Christians. No because ‘The Amazon’ is the name on your contract.”
“Well then, no, I don’t want to go. Sit around all day like a stupid fireman. Try to go out for some fun and–” with that Lucy was out the front door, still grumbling angrily.
“She seems lovely.” Chuckled Gladys.
“Yes yes. Don’t worry, Gladys. I was just taking her out to show her how much better New York is than that podunk she came from in Virginia. These are the coordinates then?”
“On the note page? Yeah.”
“If the Stateys are involved, with something coming down from space. There are sure to be cameras everywhere so I guess I’d better get on it.”
—
He enjoyed this; just dropping in on civilians who didn’t know that he was coming. Sometimes being the Scion, seen by many as being like a god, could be overwhelming, but dropping in where he wasn’t expected, especially where the press would be, made him feel like the one in control.
The crater was easy to see, even from the upper atmosphere. From his perspective the clouds seemed to part and he could see everything. This was about the height from which the alleged supervillain fell and the thought that anybody was tough enough to survive such a fall was a little unsettling but if there were police on the scene that meant he was no theat at all.
Rocketing down he came to a near halt at about fifteen hundred feet, descending slowly and dramatically, feet first, arms out, his short mantle fluttering, he was ready to put on a show.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Landing, the awe was apparent in those present. Unfortunately those present were the three wannabe heroes and a single police officer. He remembered it was a pair, separated from their third, according to the Captain that had contacted the Nine directly. In any event they weren’t the focus; they needed something from him and couldn't help him one bit. The cop, on the other hand.
“Hello, officer. Glad to see our boys in blue have things well in hand.” he preened. “Tell me about our man here.”
“Oh, yes sir! This is truly an honor. Though … honestly, I don’t know too much. This fella here is Tyrone Heathrow. AKA the ‘Big Original Gangster.’”
“That’s gang-sta, you mealy-mouthed … pig. Ugh…”
Peering down at the semi-conscious crimelord things started to turn over in the Scion’s head. “Yeah… I think I may have tangled with this guy back in the 80’s. Man … you got fat.”
“Oh, actually sir,” Officer Logan spoke up “he changes. Tried to shift over after we got here when I told him I knew who he was. He got all ripply then fell back down and fat, crying about broken bones.”
Muttering from his shallow pool B.O.G. shook his head as well he could. “Cryin’? Trade places with me, pig, you’d be beggin’ for death. I’m comin’ back from this, mark my words…”
“Huh. Talkative. Okay, so he’s a brick and, if I recall correctly, something of a giant, right? Same outfit but over seven feet.”
Logan shrugged. “If you say so, sir. These gentlemen over here are the ones who’ve fought the guy. I guess the luchadore is the one who threw him down here so he couldn’t mess up … what was it? Hackensack?”
“Asbury Park! Hey there, boss, they call me The Bouncer. Big fan.” Harvey stepped up, hand outstretched and the Scion regarded him with cold passivity. “Really … big fan…”
“I sincerely doubt that anybody calls you anything, son. But … that’s okay. Even three-on-one this’ll go a long way with the PD to getting you a license.”
“And maybe a spot in the Nine?” asked Harvey hopefully. The Scion only glared.
“Let’s not jump the shark, okay? All I know for sure right now is that you can take down a single brick I’ve personally beat up a few time in a three-on-one situation. I should say you caught him, as beating him never was that tall an order.”
“Man, fuck you…” muttered the Big one, laughing, then struggling to touch a loose tooth.
“Keep it up, ‘Tyrone’, and you’ll be in the pokey long enough to test the longevity we Altered people all seem to have.”
“Pokey? Corny-ass bitch…”
In the distance not one helicopter but two could be heard. “Hrm. Life Flight?” asked the Scion, getting a nod from the Patrolman. “Second set of rotors. Probably channel 2. Well, before this becomes a circus we may as well get the rest of this meet-and-greet out of the way. So the man in the rubber suit is the Bouncer. What about you, longhair?” Scion gestured towards Carroll.
“Uh, I, well, it’s Mandusa, sir.”
“Excuse me?”
“Mandusa?”
“Oh I heard you the first time, Mary, it just doesn’t make a damned bit of sense why a man, even one as effete as you would let themselves be named after a snake lady.”
Carroll’s blood pressure spiked but he dared not show his annoyance. “That’s Madusa.” he corrected.
“Say what now?”
“Mandusa. Like Medusa but a man.”
Choking up, the Scion stifled a laugh. “Well, that’s certainly …creative? And your Mexican friend. What does he go by?”
Twitching, Johnny didn’t reply immediately, leaving Harvey to jump in. “He’s, ah, the Progenitor. Our heavy.” he stammered, knowing the two Omni’s history.
“Progenitor? I’ve heard that name before. Where have I heard it?”
“He’s pretty new so I don’t think–” Harvey started.
“Enough out of you, normie. Don’t think I can’t see you. Altered energy patterns throw off a light outside the visible spectrum. I can tell you’re just some guy in a fancy suit. I’m talking to .. my man here.” Glancing down, noting Johnny’s feet not touching the earth, he realized what he was dealing with. “Oh, of course. You’re the one who put the big dumb guy in orbit. Bully for you.”
“Oh, wow, thanks dude!” blurted out Johnny, unable to hold back his nature for one second longer. Flinching, the Scion narrowed his gaze, peering into Johnny.
“Say that again.” he demanded.
“Uh, I–”
“Sir, his English really isn’t that good.” Harvey began, finding the Solar Scion’s steely hand at his neck.
“I am not talking to you, youngster.” he smiled disingenuously. Dangerously. “Your new friend has a voice that is very familiar to me. Okay? We’re just going to talk for a moment.”
From the side Carroll spoke up. “Mister Scion, sir? Please let him go. Like you said; he’s not like us.”
“Us? Son, there’s no us. Christ, your generation.” Pushing off, the Scion sent Harvey skidding, first on his feet, then his butt, skipping over the mud.
Sliding by the Big Original Gangsta he heard the giant cackling. “Oh, you fucked now!” said Big as the Life Flight came down, seconds from landing.
His trenchcoat shredding on stones in the mud Harvey’s armor was exposed. Rather than charge back in he chose to play dead, switching to internal audio only. “Johnny! If what you told me is true you can’t let on who you are! Twenty years has obviously not made the Scion like you more. Carroll, don’t do shit, man. Bad as the fight went with Big, Scion will cook you or send you into space and that’s a crater I don’t want to investigate.”
Meanwhile the Scion circled Johnny, breathing hard. “Cat got your tongue, son? Y’know it’s not every day that someone escapes from our lockup. Our cells are specifically designed to sap your powers and get you ready for transport to prison. Prison where you wear a collar that keeps you a mundane, sad little man. Care to tell me how you got out?”
Turning away, averting his gaze, Johnny refused to engage. Scion’s breath rattled terrifyingly, foaming spit escaping every time he made a noise.
“Fine! Don’t tell me! Just … just show me I’m right. Take off that stupid, dime store mask and show me that … ridiculous babyface of yours.”
“Keep it together.” muttered Harvey, watching as Channel 2’s chopper 2 landed, an attractive reporter staggering as she stepped out, heels in mud just as quickly removed and tossed back in the whirly bird. “Carroll. Carroll, show me you can hear me.”
But Carroll heard very little. He was shellshocked. The man he worshipped as a child, the hero of heroes, the Son of the Sun glowed more and more in a frightening display of power. Johnny, understanding the dynamic, knowing this was a hero, not wanting to fight was doing everything he could to avoid confrontation.
“Carroll!”
And he snapped to, glancing at Harvey momentarily, long enough to give a small, stiff nod.
“Civilians. What happens to civilians if these two fight?” And Carroll felt a near panic; nobody in the crater would survive a pier six brawl between two Omnis.
“Sir? Sir!” Carroll shouted, to no avail.
Shouting yet again, for the sixth time, the Scion was in a near frenzy. “Show me your face!” he screamed, drawing out the word “face” like a lunatic.
“Scion!” shouted Carroll, and those rage-filled eyes fell on him. He swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “There are civilians present. Perhaps now is not the time?”
Switching gears, Scion realized how his behavior might be perceived and walked over to Carroll, Johnny in tow. “Well done, boy. I’ll let it go, for now, but if you ever had any designs on joining the New York Nine, know that your damned dreams are dead. Take your idiot friend in the armor and leave the way you came.”
“But … the Gangsta, he’s our apprehension.” sputtered Carroll.
“Yeah, yeah, you and the police know that. Keep it to yourself while I talk up the press and maybe, maybe I don’t make some calls and get you blackballed. Shut your mouth and you get to play hero, legally, just close enough to the sun to know there’s something better. Something you can’t have. In fact … I think I like that.”
“Y-yes, sir.” stuttered Carroll. This man’s presence was overwhelming. Nudging both he and Johnny away from both helicopters, towards Harvey, he went back to check on the situation. Abruptly heavy drops of rain began to fall.
“It’s okay. This is step one.” said Harvey, getting to his feet. He turned external audio back on as his friends neared him, flying and spider climbing his way at great speed. “We’ll get our licenses based on Logan’s statement, then it’s just a matter of making ourselves known.”
“But … but everyone will think he did it.” muttered Carroll, crestfallen.
“Eh, actually, I think I’ve seen this before, in the media. Vague language. A lot of people are fooled but he never claims directly that he took down the bad guy. Plenty of people will be fooled, sure, but our side will be police record and, with a rumor campaign, I doubt we’ll miss a step.”
“But … the Nine?” Johnny whined.
“Don’t worry about the Nine.”
“This doesn’t feel like a win, Harv.”
Looking up into the sky as the clouds overhead cast down a furious tempest, Harvey shrugged. “Just another storm to weather, Carroll. C’mon, let’s get the RV and find a spot to park her. We can wake up in nature tomorrow and make our way back downstate after breakfast.”