West Pacific Supers: Rising Tide (17 page)

“One, but I ended up
getting her sent to the clinic.”

“You made quite a
first impression today!”

“Yes, unfortunately
I did.”

1:13 p.m.,
Friday, April 5th, 2013

Press Room,
WPS HQ

West
Pacific, CA

“Different
opponents have different styles. They can, they will, come at you when you
least expect it. My job is to prepare you to face anyone at any time and still
come out the victor.” The young woman at the podium looked sharp in her
well-cut suit and spiked heels but Blue Star couldn’t help snorting.

“Opponents? We’re
talking about the press here, right?”

Gabrielle Fox scowled
down at him. “We’re talking about the superazzi and they are the most devious,
the most relentless opponents you will ever face. Moreover, you are totally
unprepared to face them. We don’t need to teach you how to track criminals,
thwart supervillains, or use your powers – you’ve got decades of experience
handling that. But the modern superazzi will eat you up and fling you back to
Portland unless you’re up to speed and prepared for their tricks.”

Blue Star had been
reluctant to agree to this PR remedial, though he had to admit that Gabrielle
was the hottest woman on staff. She was wound tight though and the definition
of melodrama. “Seriously,” he said. “I’ve been handling the superazzi since
before Robin Traverse got a TV show. Hell, I
dated
Robin Traverse before she got a TV show.”

Gabrielle flashed a
scary smile. “Well, that’s not exactly a mark of distinction, is it?” She
grabbed a remote and activated the overhead projector to show a magnified view
of the team website. She clicked rapidly over to the West Pacific Supers fan
forums, then scrolled down to highlight most active threads.

“Ah ha!” she cried
triumphantly. “
Blue Star
Love Train
. Look at that - 117 posts since yesterday, including -
oh yeah, photos!”

Blue Star leaned
forward in surprise as Gabrielle clicked gleefully on a series of links: Blue
Star in his Paragon costume standing next to Lady Titan, Blue Star in his
Infinity Team costume doing a flying pose with
Skyfire
,
Blue Star with a really bad haircut up on stage with Lady Liberty wearing some
star-spangled ensemble, Blue Star standing next to a crashed Vanghel starship
with Aurora in a sealskin dress, Blue Star at the gym working out half-naked… .

“What the hell?” He
practically jumped out of his seat. “Where did they get that shot?!”

“Computer
composite.” Gabrielle smirked at his reaction. “I doubt you exercise with your
shirt off while wearing the torso of Hot Shot of the High Rollers.” She
gestured with a laser pointer. “See, right here the skin tone doesn’t quite
match. Not bad for a fan job, though quite frankly there’s no way at your age
that you’ve got those abs.”

Blue Star sat back
down, frowning. “I’m not that old. You’ll take those down, right?”

“Take it down!”
Gabrielle cried in mock dismay. “Why no, no, no, my overly amorous senior
citizen. We like that kind of publicity. It’s harmless, fan-driven fun that
brings people to the site and sells WPS merchandise. Maybe we can get the boys
down in marketing to whip up a new line:
Blue
Star: Putting Criminals and Crushes on Ice.
Don’t like it? Don’t
worry - advertising isn’t my thing. Whatever marketing comes up with will be
twice as corny and sell like the second coming of Lady Liberty. No, what we
don’t want is what we have over here,” she continued, clicking more buttons and
flipping through web pages so fast that Blue Star’s head spun. He should have
brought his glasses; these new contacts made his eyes strain.

“
Supervillains Gear Up for Easy
Pickings in West Pacific,
” she read. “
Keystone weighs his options as West Pacific Supers still
reeling from losses, reveals team insider.
See, this is the sort of
thing that superazzi love.” Her voice changed to a sing-song: “Let’s hijack
your perfectly planned press conference, Gabrielle, with our endless questions
about how the team is imploding due to deaths, petty jealousies, and endless
contract negotiations.” She sighed. “My entire focus as Public Affairs Director
is to keep the team on message. And that message is that we are a happy shiny
family who may have our little disagreements and challenges, but who, at the
end of the day, will all pull together to save the city from the bad guys.
That’s the message to get us to #1 in the West Coast Conference.”

It was Blue Star’s
turn to smirk. “Well, then, I guess you’ve got your work cut out for you,
because we’re #6 and there’s no way we’ll knock out Golden Gate, Firebirds, or
High Rollers at the top of the Conference. I tell you what: I’ll focus on
getting the team up to speed on the heroics and you spin the superazzi to get
us to #4. Sound good?” He started to get up.

“Where do you think
you’re going?” Gabrielle glowered at him. “Damn straight, I’ve got my work cut
out for me, and unlike you I’m not willing to settle for fourth place, which is
why I need 200 percent from every member I’ve got in the game. And leadership
starts at the top. Unless the team leader is taking public relations seriously,
no one else is going to. If you and Dr. Sterling can force the team through
hours of drills, you can sure as hell give me 30 minutes of mock press time. So
are you with me?”

“Fine,” said Blue
Star, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Have at it, I’m
listening.”

“Listening my ass,”
said Gabrielle, switching off the projector and walking off the stage. She had
good legs and she moved gracefully; a woman had to get used to heels that high,
Blue Star thought. “Being a superhero isn’t about listening,” she continued.
“It’s about doing. Up you go.”

“Up where?” said
Blue Star, trying to focus on what she was saying rather than what she was
wearing.

“Up where?” mocked
Gabrielle. “I don’t know how you Portland Legends handle press conferences, but
we do ours from behind a podium.” He narrowed his eyes at her and didn’t move.
She made a shooing gesture at him. “Go, go!”

He got up reluctantly
and headed for the stage, feeling strangely exposed. He hated press
conferences. The Legends didn’t have press conferences; they did one-on-one
interviews with reporters, a more intimate arrangement, especially with Susan,
than this full-court-press approach. Not to mention that Gabrielle’s melodrama
was seriously starting to grate on his nerves.

“Behind the podium!”
she called out from the second row, where she had taken a seat, her legs
crossed with a legal pad balanced on one tan knee.

Blue Star stood
awkwardly, having flashbacks to his first press conference with the Paragons,
years ago. It had started fine, and then for reasons he’d never been able to
figure out, it had spiraled out of control. He still suspected it was a
supervillain, a psychic or wizard probably, manipulating the situation. No one
had ever been responsible for a brawl in the press room before. He had been
suspended from PR work for three months.

“Hey, old guy, down
here!” yelled Gabrielle. Apparently she had been talking and he’d missed
something. He looked out and saw that Gabrielle had raised one hand, as if
seeking permission to speak. He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Yeah, you got a
question?” snapped Blue Star.

Gabrielle scowled.
“Okay, I know you don’t like the press, but at least try to be civil. Our job
is to make a connection on our terms. You’re got to make an effort. Try again.
If you can’t sound nice, just point this time; yes, I know your parents taught
you not to point at people but these aren’t people out here, they’re reporters.
Come on.”

She raised her hand
again and he pointed at her.

“Wow, okay, hi, I’m
like
Frannie
Fanatic and I just wanted to say that we
are so excited to have you here in West Pacific! My mom is like your biggest
fan!” Gabrielle squealed. The Valley Girl accent was so perfect it was hard to
believe she was the same person. “I didn’t know you were still alive and then
here you are in person! So what can you tell us about yourself? Any hobbies?
Are you looking for a fourth wife?”

Blue Star frowned.
“Enough with the age cracks, alright? No reporters ask questions like that.”

“The age of
reporters is coming to an end,” Gabrielle responded. “Bloggers are the present
and the future, and that means dealing with Joe Public and Susie Clueless, both
of whom have more devoted readers than the
New
York Times
. So yes, you do need to be prepared to answer questions
like that.”

“I don’t have
conversations with idiots,” Blue Star said, preparing to leave the stage.

“Damn it, Blue
Star!” yelled Gabrielle, standing and walking back up towards him. “I know what
I’m doing here! Either you let me do my job and learn something in the process,
or I’m quitting as PR director!”

Blue Star shook his
head. He hated threats almost as much as he hated dealing with the media.
“You’re not going to quit, so cut the bullshit. This sort of mock press stunt
may work with the kids, but I’ve been in the business for over 40 years, as you
like to point out, so either give me the respect I deserve or shut up.”

Gabrielle took a
deep breath and shivered. Blue Star realized that when he’d gotten angry he’d
probably dropped the temperature in the room; it was an old habit that he’d
never been able to break.

“Look,” she said,
“this isn’t going well and it’s probably my fault. But I’m really trying to
help you here. If you can’t keep it together in a mock press conference in a
room with just the two of us, God only know what will happen if you ever get
seriously accosted by the superazzi. You aren’t in Portland anymore. West
Pacific loves its superheroes and that means that the media will get in your
face.”

“Believe me, if
anyone gets in my face, I know how to handle it.”

Gabrielle groaned.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about! I don’t expect you to do witty banter like
Cosmic Kid, but you’ve at least got to be able to converse politely and
disengage peacefully. And that’s at a minimum. Honestly, as team leader you’re
going to be dealing with the public a lot. Mr. Awesome is a tough act to follow
in that regard, because he was beloved in the city and he knew how to handle
both fans and critics. The media is not going to be easy on you.”

Blue Star sighed.
She had a point. “I’ve always had a rough time with the press,” he told her.
“I’ve tried lots of different techniques, but now I just try to be myself.
Either they like it, or they don’t, but I try not to worry about it either
way.”

“I can help you, if
you’ll let me,” Gabrielle said.

“If I need help,
I’ll ask.” Blue Star nodded curtly and headed out of the press room. He had a
lot more important things to worry about.

4:09 p.m.,
Friday, April 5th, 2013

Dynamic
Solutions Center

Cosmopolis
, IA

Dr.
Brandeis was quite excited: he was taking part in a super heist. The focus of
the heist was the quantum harmonic resonance array, or QHRA, which Dynamic
Solutions and Consolidated Technologies were producing for the United Nations
Space
Defence
Corps as part of AEGIS, a proposed
orbital defense network to fend off alien and astronomical threats to Earth. It
was a massive boondoggle. The QHRA was an attempt to reverse-engineer one of
the most powerful Vanghel weapons that had been used in the Invasion. It could
disrupt and agitate molecular structures on a grand scale. The city of Rome had
been obliterated by such a weapon and unlike nuclear weapons, there was very
little radiation left over as an aftereffect. If the QHRA functioned properly,
and initial tests had been positive, it would make the Plan viable. Of course,
there was the power problem, but they were making progress on salvaging a
Vanghel reactor to power it. The only reason they had a shot at stealing the
QHRA was that Ian was chairman of the board of directors of Dynamic Solutions.
The beauty of the plan was that the government, specifically UNSDC, was footing
the bill for building it. The problem was that Ian actually had to steal the
device from his own company in order to use it for the Plan. It was a
topsy-turvy world.

Dr. Brandeis had
only recently realized that maybe Ian was planning on using the QHRA as a
weapon, but that really wasn’t much of a worry for him. More concerning was
that if he was caught it would not only end his career, but send him to prison
for at least five to ten years. Thus he had an added incentive to make sure the
heist was successful.

They were in
Cosmopolis
, Iowa. It was considered the center of high-tech
research for the nation, but it was just as famous for its movie studios and
the ruins of the Vanghel city that the aliens built here back during the
Invasion. The QHRA was currently housed in Dynamic Solutions’ research center
in the suburb of Crystal Heights and security was tight. Yes, the team had the
layout, codes, and full access to the facility, but if they used that
information then the subsequent investigation would know it was an inside job.
So what they had to do was pretend they didn’t have that information in
planning the operation. It sort of made Dr. Brandeis’ head spin thinking about
it.

Erica was planning
everything, but they had had to hire some outside ‘muscle’. There was some
gun-toting moron named Cliff, a techno-path mutant named Gregory who could
control machines mentally, a psychotically quiet mutant named Yuri, who was
some former Russian super soldier, and Kill
O’Watts
,
a supervillain with electrical powers and an incredibly stupid name. Then there
was Larry, who was some old drug-addled actor who would be pretending to be Dr.
Wraith, the notorious supervillain who was the one they were going to blame for
the whole thing. Dr. Brandeis was posing as Dr. Wraith’s assistant. He hadn’t
wanted to come, but the sad truth was that he knew the QHRA better than anyone
and thus had to be a part of the heist team in case something developed that
needed his expertise.

They had also hired
a criminal team known as Bad Luck; they were a nasty bunch of mercenaries with
some deadly powers. They didn’t know about the Plan or the mission to steal the
QHRA; they were hired to bring down the power to the Dynamic Solutions complex
and to perform industrial sabotage of a major research project, something to do
with a self-recharging generator powered by gravity or something. That project
had actually proven quite the failure and Ian figured he might as well use the
attack to recoup some of the project’s funding through insurance. Bad Luck
would provide a much-needed distraction and hopefully cause enough damage to
occupy both the compound’s security as well as the
Cosmopolis
Police Department and the Ultimate League, the city’s superhero team.

The QHRA weighed 7.8
tons and that made removing it difficult. It was however already loaded on a
special tractor-trailer that was to take it down to New Orleans, where it would
be put on a freighter to be taken to Antarctica for testing. It would be moving
in three days. They couldn’t target it while it was in transit, because the
security arrangements were actually tighter then. There would be Dynamic
Solutions and Consolidated Technologies security forces and also members of the
Space
Defence
Corps, chimeras – the animal/human
genetic monstrosities that defended the Earth. In that situation, it was pretty
likely the QHRA would be damaged; chimeras were supposedly quite trigger-happy.

The plan
was simple. The team would waltz in, secure the QHRA, and then drive out of the
complex. A few blocks away they would transfer the QHRA to another truck and
drive it to a small airport outside of
Cosmopolis
where it would be loaded on a cargo plane and flown to West Pacific and then
shipped out by barge to
Avalon
One
. The complexity was infiltrating the compound, hacking the
security system, reaching the loading area, and then driving the
tractor-trailer with the QHRA out of the compound. There were dozens of
complications that had to be mapped and memorized along with their solutions.
He considered himself pretty intelligent, but lately it seemed he was
forgetting stuff more and more. Dr. Brandeis had even forgotten his and Pam’s
anniversary last week. She had been quite upset, though he felt that was a
little unfair. He was coordinating the Plan and planning a super heist. Pam was
always wrapped up in her own little world and problems.

“I don’t think the
diversion is a good idea,” said Dr. Brandeis as he and Erica went through the
whole plan again.

“Why?” asked Erica
with a raised eyebrow.

“Well…it will sort
of put security on alert and might lead to the
Cosmopolis
Police Department and maybe even the Ultimate League coming on the scene
earlier than we hoped.”

Erica smiled.
“You’re learning very well, Noah, you have the mind for this sort of thing.
What do you think of Bad Luck’s odds of being discovered?”

“Well, we gave them
a good plan, but I bet they’ll decide to modify it. They’re more destructive
than cunning, so…I don’t see them being able to do it. All that will happen is
that they’ll start shooting up the place. Worse, we get caught in a crossfire
between them and the cops.”

“Exactly, they’ll
run up against security and cause a ruckus. They will likely flee the premises.
Security will give pursuit as will CPD and maybe the Ultimate League,” said
Erica. “In fact, we won’t make our move until they are fleeing. They’ll draw
off the pursuit which we would otherwise encounter. They’re a loud and
obnoxious group of supers, but they’ll give the CPD and Ultimate League a heck
of a fight.”

“Okay, but what if they
succeed?” asked Dr. Brandeis. “They could quietly plant the explosives and get
out. We won’t have the distraction we need to get the tractor-trailer out of
the compound.”

“You’re right that
it would make our exit more difficult. Of course, they won’t succeed.”

“They might. I mean
they’re idiots, but they might still pull it off.”

“No, they won’t. Now
tell me why,” said Erica with her mischievous smile.

“Because… because,”
Dr. Brandeis racked his brain for WWED, What Would Erica Do, and then it came
to him. “You’ll alert security to them!”

“Very good, Noah,
very good. Remember – the first rule is to leave nothing to chance.”

“But we met with
them – if they’re caught, they could identify us!”

“No, they aren’t
talkers. That’s why we hired them,” said Erica.

“But they’ll go to
prison! They would sell us out to avoid prison. I mean, I would sell everyone
out to avoid prison.”

Erica smiled. “Yes,
I know.” Dr. Brandeis realized he probably had spoken too freely and once again
remembered that Erica was psychotic. “Relax, Noah, your honesty is refreshing,”
she told him. “Yes, you would sell us out, because you’re afraid of prison. Bad
Luck will be paid regardless and if they’re smart and don’t kill anyone,
they’ll be out of prison in 4 to 12 years. With a good lawyer, they might not
go to prison at all, even if they do kill some people. The money they’ll be
paid is more than you would make in a lifetime working in academia.”

“I know that, but is
there really honor among thieves?” asked Dr. Brandeis skeptically.

“No, but there is
fear. There is no cruel and unusual clause for thieves dealing with snitches,”
said Erica.

“So you wouldn’t
tell me if you were behind the Boardwalk attack?” Dr. Brandeis figured that
Erica had arranged the explosion to get vengeance on Mr. Awesome.

“No I wouldn’t, but
it wasn’t us.”

“Was it the
Governor?” he asked.

“No, beyond her
limited skill set. Superhero teams have lots of enemies.”

Dr. Brandeis
considered this. “So…is it really necessary for me to go on the mission? I
mean, I could wait at the truck transfer for the QHRA,” he suggested.

“You just said you
would betray us if you needed to, which I can respect, but I need to keep you
close so you aren’t given that opportunity, Noah,” said Erica with her evil
smile. “Anyway, it happens tonight, so take some sleeping pills and get some
sleep this afternoon so you’re as fresh as possible.”

“Right,” said Dr.
Brandeis as he headed off to his hotel suite. He wasn’t going to use sleeping
pills; they’d just make him groggy during the mission.

They
were staying at the
Cosmopolis
Hilton, which seemed a
little odd. He thought they would be staying in some flea-ridden hotel in a
slummy part of town. As it was, besides planning the heist, he had plenty of
time to sightsee. Pam thought he was attending a conference, which was sort of
true, but he did feel a little guilty visiting the sites of
Cosmopolis
;
Pam loved the city. If it wasn’t for the fact it was in Iowa, they probably
would move here. Even more exciting was that yesterday he had gotten to be an
extra for a movie. It was some action adventure movie. He really wasn’t sure
what it was about, but he got $50 to run around like everything was in chaos.
It had actually been quite therapeutic.

Erica had even
arranged for him to have an escort visit him last night to ‘calm his nerves’.
Mostly he just talked with her. Candy was a much better listener than Pam.
Fortunately, he hadn’t let slip any of his nefarious dealings. They mostly
talked about his relationship with Pam. Candy was pretty understanding and also
surprisingly insightful.

She told him, more
or less, that he loved Pam, but was bored with her. The two had grown apart,
which meant two things: either they tried to rediscover each other or they went
their separate ways. Candy suggested they do something completely different,
like go dancing, ice skating, or hiking – something to shake things up. After
talking it over with Candy, he decided that maybe a cruise would be the way to
go. They hadn’t been on a cruise for years and there were ones leaving West
Pacific every day. If this heist went well, then he would get a week’s vacation
from Ian; he really needed a break. Heck, if Pam didn’t want to go, he could
always fly out Candy to go with him. She said that would be fine with her. Like
Erica said: ‘never leave anything to chance.’

“You
know, it doesn’t smell as bad down here as I thought it would,” said Dr.
Brandeis as he walked down the underground corridor that housed the countless
pipes used by the various
Cosmopolis
utilities to
handle power, water, and sewage for the city.

“It’s a modern
sewer, not something out of
Les
Mis
,” chided Gregory, who was covered
with electrodes sticking out of his body, including out of his head. The skin
that you could see had a sickly looking tint. He was the definition of a freak,
but Dr. Brandeis kind of liked him – he was surprisingly personable. “The
Cosmopolis
utility network was actually laid out by the
Vanghel and they did a pretty bang-up job with it.”

“At least we got
something from the bastards,” said Cliff as he checked his
sidearms
for the hundredth time and squinted into the darkness ahead.

“Well, actually,
thanks to salvaged Vanghel hardware we advanced decades in science and
technology - and the Vanghel who were resettled in Australia have really
contributed in areas of science and medicine,” said Gregory.

Cliff snorted. “We
should have executed them all.”

“It might have
sparked an interstellar incident, though since we are already blockaded by the
interstellar community, I guess it wouldn’t have mattered much,” said Gregory.

“She comes back,”
said Yuri in his thick Russian accent. Although he was behind all of them, he
was the first to sense Erica’s return.

“Yes, I’m here,” said
Erica crisply. “The way is mostly clear; Dynamic Solutions doesn’t have any
monitors down here.”

Dr. Brandeis smiled.
He already knew that, but they had to pretend for the rest of the group.
“Alright, let’s move into position!” He was sort of enjoying being in charge,
he could see the appeal of being Ian and calling the shots.