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Walking With Strangers

csyphrett

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csyphrett Grand Master

csyphrett

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1

Staff Sergeant Blue Baloo knew he was going to die. He paused on the brink of a precipice, a cold Minnesota wind whipping his Air Force uniform around his bear-like body. Gray hair sprouted from his skull like short porcupine quills.

 

He glanced over a massive shoulder. Somewhere in the forest behind him, a group of professional hunters was closing in on where he stood. He couldn't outrun them. That had been the plan at first. Now he knew it was hopeless.

 

His keen mind boiled everything down to two choices. He could wait for the hirelings to catch up with him. That would put him at the mercy of the men hunting him. They hadn't shown much of that quality so far.

 

Or he could jump into the raging water far below where he stood and take his chances. If he lived, the roaring stream would take him to the small dam that made Lake Marlowe possible. Then he could find a phone to call for help. The big hitch in that plan was living through the ride.

 

"Hold, varlet." The booming voice made up Baloo's mind. "I wish to bandy words with you."

 

Baloo glanced at the furry bulk of the berserker known as Fenris Ulf, wrapped in fur, and horned helmet. The gleaming two bladed axe looked like a child's toy in his fist, but was actually almost as long as the sergeant's arm. Gleaming blackness burned from the eyes in the wolf face he wore.

 

Baloo jumped off the edge of the cliff. He had time to hope he didn't hit a rock when he did hit. Then he struck the water and went under.

 

The giant bounded to the water, prepared to throw his terrible axe with a mighty swing of his arm. He paused. There was no sign of the sergeant. He let the axe drop down to his side.

 

"Where is he?" Mr. Wolf arrived in his neatly pressed, black BDUs, and polished boots, rifle held in his hands. Sunglasses covered his weathered face. His hair dropped back from his wide forehead. "We were supposed to bring him back."

 

"Verily, friend Wolf, he jumped into the water rather than face me in a manly manner." The Viking tucked his axe in his belt. "I had hoped to render him senseless with the flat of my axe."

 

"I'll let you explain to Mr. R." Mr. Wolf pulled out a cigarette case and took a Marlboro out to light after slinging his rifle. "Let's gather the others so we can finish the job before we have more bad luck."

 

"Lead on." Fenris Ulf looked down at the boiling water. "I doubt the coward will survive his foolish act."

 

"I would rather be sure." Mr. Wolf led the way into the watching trees. He smoked his cigarette as he glided through the foliage.

 

Fenris Ulf tore his gaze away from the stream. He crashed through the brush, a challenge to any who heard him.

 

Anyone he encountered at that point would have a cleaved skull for their trouble.

 

The subject of the big hunter's ire swam down river with powerful strokes, riding the swift current instead of trying to fight it. He wanted distance. Trying to fight for shore wouldn't give him that.

 

Baloo surfaced in time to push off a boulder in his way, then slipped over a small waterfall. Above and behind him, he expected bullets or energy beams from his pursuers. He swam around a whirlpool and grasped another boulder near the opposite shore by chance. His big hands held on as the water battered him.

 

He had to get out of the water and get moving before he froze to death. If he could get to Lake Marlowe before nightfall he might have a chance. Otherwise he could expect to freeze in the small woods outside the small city.

 

Baloo pulled on the top of the boulder. He got half his body out of the water. He yanked again. His legs came free of the punching liquid. His lungs fought for air so he laid on top of the boulder until he could feel his heart slowing down, his breath slowing to normal.

 

Then the sergeant got to his feet. He turned to face the direction the lake and its city should be in. Then he started jogging. He had to make it somewhere to change clothes and warm up before the sun went down.

 

And he needed to check in with someone who could try and stop what was going on at the base hidden in the woods. He felt like both of his objectives were out of reach. He had nothing to lose by trying.

 

His footsteps crunched as the water dripped from his freezing skin. At least the exertion was warming him enough to keep him going. He could easily see someone finding his frozen skeleton years in the future and asking who could this be.

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csyphrett Grand Master

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Re: Walking With Strangers

 

2

 

Quin Martin wondered how he had been talked into the situation he was about to deal with as the Question Man. How had he become a hero in the first place? He should be doing research now instead of thinking about the meeting he was about to go into.

 

He decided to blame Odd Dorfman. He was the man who had started all this. Odd had met someone in trouble, and had volunteered Quin to help him out. Then he had asked Quin to at least talk to the man about his problem. Oz Mike Michaelson had urged him to follow up and go to the meeting.

 

Quin decided that Oz Mike shared the blame for this situation.

 

Quin pulled his mask on. Odd had pulled it out of his hat when the group that had saved Marlowe had decided to stay together. It was a clear sheet that would protect his face while rendering it featureless.

 

The rest of his disguise was a simple suit and hat. The long coat necessary for Minnesota weather made his body almost as featureless as his face. Anonymity would help him in the long run.

 

The person he was meeting stood out in the small bar crowd. He had gotten a seat at a booth at the back of the place. He carried weight that could have been okay if he was forty years younger. His face spoke of bulldog tenacity. His glasses said he was well on his way to being blind.

 

Quin made his way to the booth, pushing through the young crowd trying to have a drink after work. He kept his collar up to cover the mask so no one would freak out at the faceless man. He settled into the booth. The other man looked up, smiled at the disguise.

 

"You must be Odd's friend." The older man extended a hand. "I'm Darby. Frank Darby."

 

"I'm the Question Man." Quin shook the hand, not needing his special power to know the man was a former policeman. "What can I do for you, Mr. Darby?"

 

"I hope you can help me solve an old murder." Darby sat back, waving a waitress over to take an order for a beer. Quin blocked his face with a hand until she had left.

 

"Why don't you start at the beginning?" Quin blocked his face again when the waitress returned with the beverage while the old man arranged notes on the table in front of him.

 

"It started almost forty years ago." Darby looked his notes over through his thick eyeglasses. "I walked a beat then. I found the body while walking my patrol."

 

"Hold on." Quin held out his gloved hand. He took the notes and scanned them, memorizing each fact with a glance. "Let's go. You can show me what you're talking about."

 

Quin handed the notes back before standing and heading for the door. Of course Odd had wanted him to get involved. Who else could solve a mysterious crime than a man with all the answers? All that was needed was the right questions.

 

Quin waited on the sidewalk, hat pulled low. Darby walked out of the saloon, parka wrapped around his big body. He walked over, looking puzzled.

 

"What do you think?" Darby frowned. "Can you help me?"

 

"I think it has been a long time to try to find out what happened, and yes, I can help you, if you have the right questions." Quin looked down at the sidewalk. "Why don't you walk me through your report at the scene?"

 

"You think I'm crazy." Darby's frown deepened.

 

"Anything we come up with won't be admissible." Quin started walking. "Are you sure you want to delve into this?"

 

"I have to know." Darby shrugged, walking along, keeping pace easily. "This is the only one I couldn't crack. I have to know who and why."

 

"Let's walk then." Quin knew the city had changed in the last forty years, new companies exchanging services and products across the border had caused a bubble boom that had been replaced with several strong companies that helped keep employment up for the expanding population.

 

"I thought you knew everything." Darby glanced at the new buildings as they walked, already walking back in time as they went.

 

"I know answers to questions but what's the point if I don't know what I'm telling you." Quin paused, checking his mental map. "What do you remember about that night?"

 

"It was cold as anything." Darby looked back, not even checking his notes. He had already read them hundreds of time before this. He knew what they said by heart. "It was as dark as the pit, and we were asked to look for vagrants that might have frozen in the alleys and culverts."

 

"Show me where you found the body." No wonder Odd had wanted Quin to help out with this.

 

"Right." Darby smiled then. "It's a few blocks over. That's why I picked Kerr's as a meeting place."

 

Quin nodded, glad that his guess had been confirmed.

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Mr. R Veteran

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Re: Walking With Strangers

 

1

 

 

"I'll let you explain to Mr. R." Mr. Wolf pulled out a cigarette case and took a Marlboro out to light after slinging his rifle. "Let's gather the others so we can finish the job before we have more bad luck."

 

.

 

Yes! Please explain. And leave NOTHING out. I insist.

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csyphrett Grand Master

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Re: Walking With Strangers

 

3

Oz Mike Michaelson liked walking around the town of Marlowe. It was a new environment for him to learn. He didn't know how long this feeling would last, but it wasn't like he could go back to his chosen profession.

 

Superhumans weren't allowed to compete against normal humans, and his power allowed him to surf water itself.

 

His savings weren't going to last forever. He needed a job, a place to stay, and a new hobby that didn't involve water.

 

After the thing with the Lake Marlowe giant, he had been offered a job as a superhero. They all had been. So far the only one that seemed enthusiastic about that was Super Squirrel. Mike couldn't blame him for that. It meant an end to his wandering life.

 

It also meant the same thing to Oz Mike. He had surfed all over the world, chased every wave he could find, won big prizes and small. Until he had started wanting a break from it all, he had probably clocked more time in the air than an astronaut. Now he was at loose ends.

 

He definitely didn't feel like a hero.

 

Sirens woke him from his reverie. A yellow and white fire truck pushed its way through evening traffic. Someone probably had set a fire in the burned areas still left over from the rampage. If it burned out of control, it could still reach undamaged houses outside the ravaged areas.

 

Mike ran after the truck. Maybe he could help out with his talent. Firefighting seemed a natural for what he could do. He needed some water to speed up the pace.

 

Oz Mike looked around as he ran. Marlowe had some fountains to enhance the park land feel of the small city, but none were near. He couldn't open any of the nearby hydrants he saw. What did that leave?

 

Mike looked around, seeking some inspiration. All he saw were small restaurants, businesses, and places looking for renters. The fire truck left only its warning wail to lead him on. There was no way to catch up now.

 

Mike paused. He stared at place on the corner. He realized it had all the water he needed. He could almost kick himself.

 

Mike ran into a taco stand, pulling on the goggles and scarf he used as a disguise. He pushed into the bathroom, checked the toilet, then turned the sink on full blast. He needed water, and now he had it.

 

Oz Mike went to the door as the water leaped under his feet. Suddenly he floated in the middle of the restaurant. Everyone had a blank face as he hovered in front of them.

 

"Don't let anybody go into the bathroom, please." Mike waved before heading out the door on his stretching line of power.

 

The surfer decided he needed altitude so he could figure out which direction to go. He forced his liquid horse to climb into the air. A few blocks over he could see the flash of emergency lights and the smoke from a burning building. He nodded to himself.

 

Time to see if he really was the hero Enforcer wanted him to be.

 

Oz Mike soared through the air, riding his wave across the sky. People looked up, alerted by water splashing on them as he passed. He dropped down above the street where the fire fighting crew unrolled hoses to go in the burning building. His stream held him next to the fire chief as he looked at the seven story inferno.

 

"Need a hand, Chief?" Mike had seen the craggy faced Olson during the monster attack even if they hadn't really stopped to talk to each other.

 

"We're getting set up." Olson turned grim blue eyes on the newcomer. "What can you do?"

 

"Give me some more water and I can go in and search the place before your guys have to go in." Oz Mike looked around. "I can be pretty fast."

 

"This is Fire One." Olson held his walkie talkie to his lips. "Open a third hydrant."

 

Mike spotted a crewman running to a hydrant out of reach of the trucks and their hoses. The man popped the front off. Water spilled out in the street.

 

"Thanks, Chief." Mike waved a hand as he directed his suddenly weaker stream over to where the hydrant poured its resources away. Someone must have went in and closed the sink taps off. That was okay. He didn't need that source anymore with a closer reserve to draw upon.

 

Mike gathered the water under him, shaping it in a slide reaching up into the top window of the building. He smashed the glass aside with a shoulder as the slope carried him forward. He was glad he had covered his face as the smoke billowed out of the office he was in. He had promised a search without thinking. Now he had to carry it out.

 

Oz Mike plunged into the inferno, letting his slide enter before him. The water soaked the rooms down as he passed. Sprinklers poured down ineffectually, and he added them to his engine to increase his speed. He did the same for any bathrooms he passed. Soon he was a roar, knocking down doors, cascading down steps, extinguishing small blazes with just his passing.

 

Oz Mike smiled. So far everything was going okay, and he hadn't seen anyone who needed him. Maybe the building had been empty when it caught fire. There was no telling until the blaze was put out and the source was found. He just had to make sure that no one waited for rescuers in the smoke.

 

Oz Mike heard coughing when he was halfway down the structure. He looked around, spinning in place on his extending platform. Steam shot up as the loose water flew in droplets around him. A hand appeared from behind a desk, clawing for support.

 

Oz Mike flew over, grabbing the arm attached to the hand. A middle-aged woman coughed weakly in her hand. The surfer slung her over his shoulder. He headed downstairs as fast as possible.

 

He hoped any others trapped inside could hang on until he could come back inside and find them.

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csyphrett Grand Master

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Re: Walking With Strangers

 

4

Odd Dorfman sat in his bookstore, counting the minutes until he could close. He had discovered a screen out of his hat when he was walking in that morning. It showed him the town as he watched it on his counter top. A few odd customers wandered the aisles but they were minding their own businesses at the moment.

 

Odd had found the odd bowler he wore constantly. It had been in a thrift shop when he had still been in his teen years, looking for a means to rebel against the establishment. He had accidentally discovered the talent it gave him.

 

Odd had liked to drink to excess when he was younger. He had gotten plastered at a party. He had fell on his hat, sticking his hand in the mouth of it. He pulled out something that instantly sobered him up with its too many tentacles and eyes. He shoved it back in before anyone else knew what had happened and decided to walk his shattered buzz off.

 

Anyone else would have thrown the hat away before it did something worse. Odd kept it, experimented when he was alone. He learned two things. The hat gave him a random item based on where he was standing. It also gave him a knowledge where that item could be found once he started to look for it.

 

He had helped save the town but he knew he had been in the rear while everyone else had did all the hard work. He had just reached in his hat and pulled out a show stopper. If one of the GMs for his role-playing games had done that, he would have shook his head at the dues ex machina.

 

Still he was on the team at least as back up. The government agent they had met through Enforcer had said as much. Childhood dream fulfilled like that.

 

Why wasn't he happy?

 

The bell rang by the door. Odd looked up and smiled. His lovely wife stood there with a smile on her face. She carried a plastic bag from the crafts store with the handles wrapped around her wrist.

 

"How's your day been, Hon?" Kitty took his breath away every time he saw her. Her golden hair, periwinkle eyes, voluptuous frame could net her anyone but she had chosen him.

 

He still couldn't figure out why even after all the years they had been together.

 

"Slow." Odd leaned back in his chair. All of his worries vanished with Kitty's arrival. "How's things gone with you?"

 

"I sold a couple of things with a few more orders to be filled." Kitty pulled out several folded sheets of material to give him a peek. "The Black Five Regiment has ordered new standards for their reenactments of the Dunsinane Burning."

 

"That's the one with a big black five on a yellow background?" Odd thought it resembled the air cav symbol he had seen in the movies.

 

"I thought you were asleep when I was laying it out." Kitty looked at the ceiling, remembering that night. "You were sick and on the couch."

 

"That's the only thing I do remember from that whole weekend." Odd shrugged. Customers still wandered the shop. He looked at the clock on the wall. Time to get rid of them so he could have dinner with his stunning wife. He put the screen he had pulled from his hat under the counter. "Last call everyone. We're closing for the night."

 

The small crowd came up to the register slowly. Some wanted to keep roaming the stacks but Odd just pointed at the time. He waved them out one by one, then locked the doors. The last thing he had to do was count the day's receipts and make his deposit. He could lock the money in the safe to take to the bank in the morning.

 

"Despite seeming to be slow, we had a fair day at the book store." Odd wrote out a receipt and placed it and the money in a deposit bag. He sealed the bag and put it in the drop drawer of the safe behind the counter. "We'll be able to pay the rent and utilities for sure."

 

"What about this government offer?" Kitty went to the alarm next to the front door. Their quarters were in the back of the store, sealed away by a locked door. "Are you going to take it?"

 

"I think so." Odd lowered a metal grill over the glass frontage. He tucked the screen under his arm. "I just wish I could do more than be back up."

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csyphrett Grand Master

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Re: Walking With Strangers

 

Right now I have a partial list of handles. Sooner or later, I will come up with an idea, then write a small bullet list, then start writing. Right now I am just writing this story in this series, so I don't know what I will think of when I do sit down to write one with your handle. And sometimes I can't make the initial idea work so I have to change it.

CES

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csyphrett Grand Master

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Re: Walking With Strangers

 

5

Tim Bucket threw an orange tennis ball against the wall of his school. He did it to practice accuracy. He had power to spare, but his part-time career needed him to be able to hit a dime in the air at a moment's notice.

 

He had hated giving up pitching for the baseball team. He didn't hate it, but he couldn't cheat and there were other things than sports. He just needed to get good enough at them that his father left him alone about having to quit.

 

At least Coach Reilly understood and was reasonable about losing his best pitcher. He had actually been nice about it. That had surprised Tim at the time. He couldn't remember a time the coach had been nice about anything.

 

"Leave me alone." A girl walked away from the school. A car of thugs slowed traffic to keep pace with her as she moved along the sidewalk. The car and the group inside looked like someone had used a baseball bat on them. "I don't want anything to do with you."

 

Tim went to the bag he had dropped near the wall. His first thought was to call the police on his cell phone. Let them deal with the problem. He decided they wouldn't answer the call unless it was some kind of emergency. By then, things would have gotten out of hand.

 

He reached in the bag and pulled out a face mask. He slid the straps on, pulled his baseball hat on over it. He dropped catcher's padding over his shirt. It had a yellow T in a yellow circle in the center of it. He grabbed his arsenal of baseballs last.

 

Tim hoped his disguise would keep trouble away from his home. His dad would want to move from Marlowe if things got too bad. He grabbed his bag, sealing it. An underhand throw dropped it on the breezeway where students lined up to wait for the bus.

 

No one seemed to have noticed what he was doing.

 

Tim followed behind the slow moving car. The girl was crying at some of the things the guys were saying to her. He frowned underneath the face mask. What would the Enforcer do?

 

He would drop one of those energy blasts on the skirt chasers.

 

Tim grabbed one of his baseballs. He jogged to catch up, tossing the ball up and down in his hand. Maybe if he just said he was watching they would move on to some other girl where he wasn't getting in the way. At least he had tried to be reasonable if he did that.

 

"I'm not asking you." The guy in the back with the broken nose stuck his hand out of the back driver's side window. He grabbed the girl's arm. "I'm telling you to get in."

 

Tim threw the ball. He had seen enough.

 

The baseball left his hand with the speed of a bullet, a blur of motion before it crossed the two foot mark. It hit the guy reaching out the window in the arm. Snap went the arm. The girl pulled out of the slack grasp with a jerk. She jumped back from the car, hands up for the limited protection they gave her.

 

Tim reached into his bag, grabbing another baseball. He heard someone scream someone was shooting at them. His eyes narrowed on the passenger who was reaching for something. He couldn't allow a gun to be used this close to the school. The former pitcher cranked back his arm.

 

The baseball blasted through the back windshield. It hit the headrest of the passenger seat. The headrest came off as the sphere started to ricochet inside the car. More shouts filled the air. The driver hit the gas, burning rubber to get away from whatever was shooting at them.

 

Tim grabbed a third ball, wondering if they were coming back. He waited, eyes searching the streets. He dropped the ball when he decided they were gone to take care of the wounds he had inflicted.

 

"Why did you do that?" The girl looked at Tim. She looked scared to the Trebuchet. "They'll just come back and hurt me the next time."

 

"Call the cops and file a report." Tim turned to go. He was already starting to attract too much attention in his mask and catcher's pad. "That'll get things moving so you won't have to see them until you put them in jail."

 

"I can't do that." The girl looked down at her book bag and purse. She had retained her grip on them throughout the excitement. "What about my family?"

 

"You have to stand up for yourself sometime." Tim headed for the breezeway where he had stowed his civilian clothes. "The cops won't believe me. I'm wearing a mask."

 

Tim glanced over his shoulder. The girl followed him. He couldn't just let her see his real face. The next thing he knew, everyone would know who the masked kid on campus was. His dad would be less than pleased.

 

Tim had to get rid of her.

 

"Go call the police and file a report." Tim grabbed hold of a breezeway support. "They'll get those guys and put them in jail."

 

"I can't do it on my own." The girl looked at Tim, holding out one hand. "What about my family?"

 

"If you really think the police can't help, call Odd's Books and leave a message." Tim yanked on the metal column. He flew up to the concrete awning. "Maybe he knows someone who can help you."

 

"Maybe he knows someone?"

 

"Maybe." Tim grabbed his bag, stuffing mask and makeshift armor in it. The baseballs went in next. He headed down the awning, making sure to stay out of sight from the ground as much as possible.

 

Tim hid his Trebuchet disguise on the roof of the school with a quick toss. He looked around. No one could see him as far as he could tell. He braced himself with his arm, and gently tossed himself to the ground.

 

Time to walk off before anyone could catch up to him.

 

How did Spiderman get by the way he did?

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csyphrett Grand Master

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6

 

Billy Keys headed down to the basement of the building he maintained. He often wandered the premises to look for problems before they developed. The basement might be the start of something he needed to fix.

 

Several things pointed to something growing down there. First there was a smell. It drifted up to the apartments. Several of his renters complained about it. Tracking the smell had led him down the steps to the bottom of the building.

 

Then there were the holes in the walls he had found. He had plugged all he could find but figured that more would keep coming as long as the source was still out there.

 

Experience pointed to a problem he had seen before in other buildings. He didn't like the thought of it. So he had to go down in the basement and look for himself. Then he could figure out what to do about it.

 

Rats were the bane of a healthy building.

 

Billy pulled a flashlight from his pocket and flicked it on. If he had turned the overhead on, the rats would have run like cockroaches. He wanted them to think that he was friendly. That way he could figure out the source of them and plug it.

 

Billy ran the light over the concrete room. He didn't like the way green dots flickered back as the light moved back and forth.

 

He went to the light switch and turned the overheads on. Two bulbs in descending lamps from the ceiling flashed on. A brown carpet stood at attention, blinking in the sudden light. He frowned when they didn't run from the exposure.

 

That wasn't ordinary. Billy examined the room, nodded at the hole in the bottom of the wall on the other side of the room. That must have been the entrance. How could he get them to go out that way?

 

As Billy pondered what to do, the rats took off through the hole. They formed an orderly line and moved single file through the hole and out in the alley beyond. The super moved closer, playing the light on the wall.

 

That was something you didn't see every day.

 

Billy moved closer, light still shining in front of him. The rear guard hissed at him, exposing sharp teeth. That wasn't usual either.

 

Billy took a step back. There was more to this than met the eye. Rats usually didn't form up in packs like this. Maybe someone was in charge, someone who could control rats.

 

Billy knew it was possible. Super Squirrel did the same thing with squirrels. The super ran up the stairs. He needed to find out what was going on. He reached the basement door and stepped outside with a thought.

 

Billy looked around. He spotted the line of rats forming into a marching band a few feet to his right. He didn't expect that. The rodents turned and started marching away from him at full speed.

 

Billy scratched his head. He should follow them and find out what was going on. He also needed to repair the hole in his wall before they came back. He shook in place, trying to decide what was more important.

 

Finally he put the flashlight in his pocket after turning it off and walked after the marching army.

 

He could always get some concrete for patching the wall from the hardware store later. This might be his only chance to follow the rats back to their boss.

 

The procession worked its way across Marlowe to the forest at the edge of town. The rats broke up and ran in different directions, acting more like normal rats than they had so far. Billy lost sight of them in the underbrush.

 

Billy scratched his head. He still didn't know what was going on but at least the rats were gone for now. He would just have to keep an eye out for more problems from them. That meant constant vigilance.

 

He was already doing that, so a little more wouldn't be that much of a big deal.

 

He pulled out his pad and wrote down what he needed to make repairs. It would take some time but eventually he would have all the holes filled, everything back in order. Passing the word on seemed to be advisable. Maybe the others had run across something like this before.

 

He had helped save the city but that wasn't what he liked to do. It had been an extension of keeping his building safe. A giant monster would have destroyed that with a flick of its paws. Save the city equaled saving his building seemed an easy equation in his mind.

 

Billy headed back to his building, reaching for his phone. He had Odd's number. The book seller knew where everyone was. He could alert the others.

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csyphrett Grand Master

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7

Chad Reilly walked the football field at the back of the school. He had a lot of thinking to do about his future, and pacing helped him with that. The football area was big enough that he could walk around it while he thought without being bothered.

 

The first thing was his baseball team. Tim Bucket was his star pitcher. His other pitchers just couldn't throw the ball as hard as Tim. On the other hand, he couldn't keep Tim on the team since he could throw a car through the air. That was bound to result in calls of cheating.

 

Tim made the hard decision to quit on his own. His scholarship hungry father must hate it, but the boy's future would be marred if his secret was ever found out. People would forget any good he had done as Trebuchet, and concentrate on the fact he had an unequaled advantage as a pitcher and used it.

 

Then there was this deal as a training officer with this group of would be heroes. That had dropped in his lap, even though he was retired from the Project, and his powers were slowly fading away. He didn't have much longer as a hero. It didn't feel right to try to get back in harness.

 

He might get one of his new comrades killed if his powers faded at the wrong moment.

 

Reilly also had a load of work as a teacher when the baseball season wasn't going on. He had tons of work to grade and clear for his students. Usually he did that after practice. His new responsibility would cut into that unless he could set up a schedule to work with the new team and cover all his bases.

 

Basically it was looking like he was going to be busy juggling a mess that used to be a well ordered life. He would just have to take steps to improve things. That's what they had taught him in the service, and the Project.

 

Reilly paused on the field, realized he had walked in a circle for almost an hour. He wasn't getting anything done pacing. He better start by making some phone calls and checking in with the others. He could work on his papers after that. Tomorrow he would start working the relief pitchers and figure out what they could do.

 

Reilly wondered when he had stopped worrying about the future. It seemed to have slipped away from the way he did things. He knew he had avoided as much risk as possible when he had started out. Now risk was a thing on a checklist to be marked off.

 

Reilly talked with Odd Dorfman. The Question Man was out helping someone, the rest hadn't checked in yet. They were probably still deciding on if they wanted to be a team and help others.

 

Reilly pulled up some tiling under his desk. His costume sat in the metal box he kept it in if he ever needed it. He pulled it out. Maybe he could do some low flying around town, get some practice in.

 

Hopefully his body would keep on letting him get away with minor things as long as he didn't do anything major like he had against the lake monster. Blasting its mouth had nearly sent him down for the count, even though he had put a professional face on it.

 

Reilly took the gray suit, hood, boots and gloves, out of the container. He covered the chest up with the tiles, tamping them down with his thumbs. He changed in his office. He made sure to keep the blinds closed so he could preserve his identity as much as possible. Once ready, the Enforcer floated into the gym to the skylight in the ceiling. He opened the window up and drifted on the roof.

 

Reilly didn't have enough for the fast flying he had possessed in his youth. On the other hand, he could jump really far with an assist. That would give him distance and speed without taxing his body beyond its limits.

 

The gray clad Enforcer leaped from building to building in quick arcs. The thought that he must look like a giant bunny crossed his mind. He smiled under his hood as he sized up his next landing zone and jumped again. He would be at the book store in a few minutes at this rate.

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