Tom

Okay, I promised at least a paragraph every day if I could so... well, I hammered a bit against ye olde wall of creative uncertainty and this is what finally came out. 
 
 
Lady Obsidian turned to me, "Well, that was the Marine Institute with their data.  Between them, Greenpeace, and the local navy base, we now have more information about the migration patterns and locations of whale schools than I ever wanted to know. Between that and some of the toys I've prepared, you're going to have a better chance than anyone alive to find the most likely target whales off the California coast for corruption and recruitment."
 
"Thanks," I said, tapping the wrist band she'd given me, "I know it may feel silly having the team focus on whale watching, but…" I shrugged, "It makes sense to me."
 
"I agree with you, believe it or not," She assured me, "But …before you swim off, bear with me a moment. I want to ask you to go over your story again. This time," She frowned, "I want you to focus on Valorous."
 
I paused, "Valorous? He was helpful in the fire, but other than that… mostly he just came along as we found the other Independents. I'm trying not to take the fact he wants my spot on the team personally… he seems nice," I hedged realizing I couldn't fully mask my dislike.
 
"Does he?" Lady Obsidian said, "What did he do when Arctic Fox and you arrived on the scene in the first place?"
 
"Took bad pictures of her," I shrugged.
 
"I know Fox, she's one of those lucky women who tends to be very photogenic. Bad how?"
 
I wondered where she was getting with this, "Way too close to her face…" And I told her what I could recall, about the eyeball shot, his comments throughout the Independent Hunt, reactions, and more. She raised a brow when I mentioned, sheepishly, his defense of Partials.
 
"You do know that I am not even a Partial, right?" One could almost hear an eyebrow raise.
 
"That's…different," I said, "You're Lady Obsidian," I blushed a bit, "Okay, I am already feeling guilty for coming across as an elitist snob, but honestly if you keep pursuing this I'm going to go fanboy mode and talk about how awesome you are and your genius is a superpower all its own."
 
"Best you don't," She did let gentle amusement leak through her tone letting me know she wasn't too mad, "Flattery makes me suspicious."
 
"You mean like how Valorous is always… " I paused, "yeah, I'm starting to see why you don't trust him."
 
"I've learned to heed my instincts, and with what you've told me? Some of my distrust is now on extremely high alert."
 
"What did I say to make you feel that way?" I asked.
 
"You don't trust him either," She reminded but I notice she didn't answer the question.
 
"Yeah, but you seem to know better why, I haven't gotten past 'somethings wrong with this jerk'," I informed her.
 
"We could chalk it up that super power of genius," She said using the term I'd picked before, "But in this case, let's attribute it to experience," Lady Obsidian tilted her head thoughtfully, "As it is, I still hope I'm wrong. Time will tell."
 
I frowned, "It seems like you have me spying on a fellow superhero, and I have to tell you, I'm not…comfortable with that."
 
"Oh, young man," She said with a tone of sympathy, "You think everyone who calls themselves a superhero is part of one large brotherhood of justice. No, Eel, not everyone who claims to act in justice's name really serves her. People do the most treacherous things in the name of the highest ideals. And not all masks are made of cloth metal or glass."
 
I frowned, "I know that, but…"
 
"Don't think of it as spying on him then," She said, "Think of it as protecting Arctic Fox when she is utterly helpless and can't see it coming."
 
 
I didn't like the idea of any team mate being used, and if Valorous wasn't on the up and up, then no doubt Fox would be devastated, and if he tried it I'd … I paused, "Ma'am, it feels like you're manipulating me."
 
 
"Yes," She nodded, "Yes I am. And if you ever end up leading this team or any other, you'll learn to do the same. Just, be honest with yourself and others on your team as much as you can while you do it. They won't thank you for it, mind. But it helps you know when you're crossing the lines you drew as a youth and reminds you they're people, not pawns."
 
 
"What's the point of having lines drawn if you're only going to cross them?" I stiffened, feeling, oddly disappointed in her, and maybe it showed, "There's right, and there's wrong, and the difference shouldn't be that hard to tell."  Part of me wondered if I had any right to take this attitude with her. She'd saved the nation more than once, maybe the world.
 
 
"I can't speak for others," She says, "But for me? After I've crossed them is when I need them most of all. If I'm going to kill an ideal I thought sacred, I need to be able to see when it fell, and find out why; pay the price for It, and be able to ask myself: If the situation were the same, would I do it again? We all cross a line sometime, as life goes on, Eel. If only to keep from crossing an even more important one. I hope your first time doesn't come too soon. It's never pleasant. But never assume a sign of your failure, even a crossed line, serves no purpose. I wish you gentle lessons but in this line of work, that's the last thing they're likely to be."
 
 
I frowned, and got the oddest idea I'd just been dismissed. I didn't care for the cargo I had been handed as I left.

Last year, I read Daniel Moynihan's Pandaemonium, based on a series of lectures he gave on the subject of ethnicity in politics. He had a fairly extensive discussion of the mischief Woodrow Wilson helped unleash with his phrase, "the right of national self-determination." Like many truly bad ideas, it sounds simple and laudable -- until you consider the details of who, exactly, constitutes a "nation" and how they can obtain "self-determination" without stepping on other people's rights. Particularly in places like the Balkans, where populations are so fragmented and mixed.
 
Nationalism -- the political doctrine that the legal institution of the state should coincide with, as closely as possible, the cultural territory of a nation, is also a particularly bad idea for the United States of America, because "American" is not a nationality in the sense of a group of people who share a language, cultural identity, common descent and a territory they have inhabited since time immemorial. The Japanese are a nation. The Welsh are a nation. The Navajo are a nation, Americans aren't. It's all backwards: The legalities come first, and the cultural identity grows from adherence to the ideas behind them. You have to be born Japanese, but you become American through the legal process of citizenship.
 
It isn't a nation-state; it's a philosophical state. But unfortunately, many people are not philosophers.
 
Here endeth the ranting digression.
 
 
Dean Shomshak

I have to say this makes me want to blow the dust off superhero PI detective story based in New Orleans I've been kicking around for years - and I haven't taken a serious stab at fan fic writing for well over a decade. 
 
It too has a fish guy of sorts, funnily enough but... well...
 
 
 
Eel he ain't.
 
(and Hermit I ain't.  Just wanted to post a little excerpt of something that he inspired me to turn from a bullet point from years ago to part of a scene - so to Hermit a big   )

We have guests today so I didn't get as far as I'd like, but hopefully it's not too anticlimatic a resolution to yesterday's cliff hanger.
 
 
 
Blood trailed from my shoulder into the water behind me. I've been cut before. There's a reason terms like invulnerable or invincible come with qualifiers in the super biz; qualifiers like 'nigh' 'relatively' 'virtually' or my personal favorite 'close enough for government work'. Certain lasers had sliced me when they'd have severed someone else entirely in half. There are metals, rather expensive ones, that can cut through anything, even yours truly. And damn it if Bloodwatch wasn't right that a titanium bullet at point blank in my eye would be a severe downer on my day.    But I was surprised, the spear didn't exactly seem high tech. Wait, what was it from the dream? The spears were 'blessed' by the Eldest One. Crud, I hate mysticism.   "Head towards the shore," I ordered Ariana, "Now."   Floating under the water as we were, I got to talk, she didn't. She did shoot me a briefly defiant look before breaking through the surface, stepping up onto the water as if it were solid, and running towards the shore! She could walk on water?   Later, no doubt when I had time to think on it, my carnal desire for the girl I was dating would conflict strongly and uncomfortably with my religious upbringing.   Right now, I had a fight on my hands!   The fanged behemoth they were riding and I closed. It's maw opened and I felt the pull of water rushing in threatening to drag me in like an undertow. I resisted the pull, and managed to avoid getting swallowed. The creature clamped down with a thunderclap of a snap on empty water ! Its red eyes blazed with hate.  This thing hated me, or maybe it just hated. It hated with an almost human capacity for the emotion. And that was spooky as hell.   Instead of in its mouth, I landed on the top of it where its riders awaited me.   The golden skinned fellow with catfish like bristles on his skin was the one who had thrown his spear at me was drawing a knife. I didn't know if that could hurt me, instead I focused on the spears that I pretty sure could. I moved to the side as the next fellow, a blue-green guy with something like a gladiator movie set for armor attempted to stab me. I grabbed the incoming spear while it was extended, and then yanked it as hard as I could.   He tried to out-muscle me.   Big mistake. The soldier was strong, probably stronger than the average human athlete, but he wasn't in the super range.  For him, it had to be like playing tug of war over a rope with a speedboat. That's called water skiing.   His grip came loose and he shot behind me like a piece of luggage falling off the back of a truck.  For a moment, I was terrified that the behemoth was going to devour the new target right in front of it's ugly face.   Thank god, it didn't. Two spear-less, three to...   I managed to block a third spear with the one I had just taken mister aqua marine there, but here's where the trained soldier has an advantage over the insanely gifted. They coordinate, they work together and know moves like flanking. So while I did a pretty impressive block of magic spear number three, the fourth guy had circled and got me in the side with his own.    I cried out in pain as three inches of the weapon head drove into my flesh. Judging by the look on the attacker's face, he was surprised  it hadn't gone deeper, but if he'd gotten an inch and a half lower, that would have been plenty to skewer a kidney!   I swung the spear I had just blocked with at the warrior who got the hit on me. I did not think to pull my blow! This guy had more armor than some of the others, and it was a good thing because I broke it open and probably a rib as well with the staff part of the weapon in my hand.    What was the shaft made of anyway? It wasn't like your typical sources of wood abounded in the ocean, at least not in plain old tree form!   A knife hit the side of my neck as the guy who had thrown the first spear rejoined the fight with the weapon he had. I guess it wasn't 'blessed' because it fractured without so much as raising a welt. I kicked him hard end over end in the water where he lay still and moved no more.   Served him right, I thought mercilessly eager for the next... "What the hell?" I said out loud.   How did I get from shielding gangbangers and pulling punches on supervillains until I knew their limits to cutting loose on soldiers who, except for magic spears and water breathing, didn't seem much tougher than your average trained goon?   That's not me!   The tail slap from the behemoth caught me as flat footed as one can get while under water. That's the problem with moments of desperate introspection, the folks trying to kill you do not respect them as legitimate timeouts.   Even in the buffer of the sea I found myself tumbling end over end until I actually found myself breaking the surface of the ocean and facing open sky. That sea-beast had really run my bell. I'm sure, but I think it hit harder than I did.   I wanted to kill it.   I wanted to hurt them all.   I glanced at the spear still in my hand. Why was it still in my hand after a surprise slap like that? If anything, I  figured I should have lost my hold on it. Instead I'd tightened my grip subconsciously. I found myself almost missing the straight forward and relatively clumsy mind whammy Magic Word had laid on me at the bank.   This thing wasn't blessed, it was cursed.   And I didn't want anything to do with it.   I dodged the next spear from a pale warrior who... I'd almost forgotten about Mayo! I mean, maybe it wasn't him. Maybe it was another albino like merguy. Yet if I had good money, yeah, it was him.   "Mayo, it's Caleb..." I wanted to keep my eyes on him, at the same time I knew any second the sea monster and other warriors would be joining us. I did something a superhero isn't supposed to do in a fight. I took my mask off, goggles and all.   In the dream I had been wearing some kind of headgear, but my face was visible. If I remembered the dream, maybe he would too?   "Caleb!" His eyes blinked, and I realized the light up here must be near blinding to him, but he clearly made me out. He gritted his needle like teeth as if ... as if he were trying to block out pain and hate.   "Yeah, I feel it too, and I've been holding onto this for just a few seconds," I suddenly had a lot of respect for Mayo.   Mayo knew my name, but the rest was a babble of a language I felt like I knew once but had forgotten, like that Middle school French class you let deteriorate until you're pretty much back to square one.   His inhuman face lit up with determination, and then as if he was trying to exert every inch of might in his body... he let the spear fall from his finger tips and fall down into the depths below.   The expression of conflict from his face eased and I swore for a moment he was about to cry with relief. And a scream of outrage, some word I didn't understand, came not from him, but one of his peers riding the back of that sea beast. And they weren't gunning for me. They were going after Mayo!    It's mouth opened and Mayo began to be drawn towards the gaping maw as I was, but Mayo wasn't as strong as I am.    Without even thinking about it,  I threw the spear I had been carrying (Or had it been carrying me?). Once again I blessed being a family that was so old fashioned that chucking rocks for distance was part of the ritual for passage into manhood. I'm no Payton Manning, but I had a big target, a magic spear stronger than steel, and a whole lot of upper arm strength!   The spear drove deep into the left eye of sea monster! It thrashed and twisted in a fashion more suited to a beheaded snake than a marine mammal! It's rider was thrown clear off! And given the reaction of the sea-beast, that was probably a good thing for him because I wasn't sure he'd survive the same blow that had taken the breath out of me.   Speaking of Breathing, Mayo had submerged! Of course, maybe I was amphibious, but these guys couldn't stay topside long.    It was time to change tactics. I'd gotten spoiled by my durability. I had neglected my speed. I plunged in after Mayo and shot past him. The remaining warriors were wisely staying away from the rampaging sea monster, but each had recovered a spear. I shot towards them, and they braced, probably expecting to take me down like a united phalanx of pikemen handling a mounted knight of old.   Sorry guys, no joust today.    I twisted just out of the range of a spear lunge and circled them, faster, and faster, the force of it building around them as I created a localized whirlpool.   I'd like to say this was old hat, a trick I'd pulled off dozens of times and had mastered but that would be a lie. I was a whirlpool virgin.   Okay, that sounded wrong. I'm going to leave that phrasing out of my future autobiography.   Imprecise and imperfect as my first attempt was, it was enough to send the remaining soldiers battering against each other helplessly  until they were out cold. I glanced up to see the Behemoth finally slowing in it's thrashing. It lay very still... and changed.   The fangs receded. The eyes were were no longer glowing with hellish red light, and the blights along its skin cleared.   It was a dead humpback whale.   I guess whatever magic had transformed it in life had let it go in death. I moved towards the embedded spear in its socket, and steeling my resolve pulled it out.   It was there again, unreasoning rage, unthinking hatred, it was like my soul was rolling in an oil spill. All those destructive urges I had ever suppressed, some I didn't even know I'd had, were bubbling up to my consciousness. I hadn't realized how much I hated that supervillain team back home that had humiliated me. I wanted them dead. Some part of me had enjoyed the idea I might have broken Magic Word's shoulder. He deserved worse, didn't he? And if I ever ran into that reporter for news 3....   I glanced down at the spear, "The one ring," I told it, "You ain't."    And I snapped it over my knee!   There was a flash of hellish reds and venomous greens that filled my vision.   I thought I had known hate and anger a moment ago?    I knew nothing of either.   I was an insect moving soil and calling it civilization. I was a flea on the back of greater beasts I couldn't even begin to comprehend and congratulating myself for discovering this particular square inch. I was a speck; an irritation pretending at person hood.    The entirely of my worth was defined only in that something real had noticed me, something far more ancient than I could ever fathom and more powerful than I could grasp. Science had not yet made measurements that could quantify the disparity to how little I mattered compared to the being that had graced this spear.   I was nothing, less than nothing.   Compared to the Eldest.   A pair of pale hands grabbed me, and  began to carry me away towards the shore as I clung into a fetal position trying to feel my body, and I couldn't. I couldn't feel anything but how little I mattered.   I had lied to Ariana earlier. It turns out there was something in the ocean I very much could not handle.   And it knew me now.

Yeah.  Clearly he needs another talk. I have a couple of options to see who will drive a few lessons home. Fish Guy is soft hearted and hard headed.
 
 
 
Pushing to get it done period is kind of my goal (Which is why so many of you are suffering through vlonks, typos, and terrible grammar) . But don't worry. If need be you guys will peek in and see a paragraph like this:
 
I struggled with the choice, biting my bottom lip and tensing. Who would live, who would die? And could I live with the ramifications of knowing I had left one behind to their confinement favoring another soul over them? Their expressions were filled with hope. Hope I was destined to dash in one of them even as I gave light to it with the other. The burden of this decision was heavier than that post office building had ever been.
 
I shot a pleading look to Dr. Vernon, surely she'd understand, "Can't we rescue both?"
 
Her voice lowered so none could hear, "No. It's a base, not a petting zoo. Now either get the Lab Mix or that Poodle Corgi thing, but we are not taking both. And stop looking at me that way, it's no-kill shelter."

Okay, at first I thought this would be a smaller post then... suddenly it gruesome
 
Lady Obsidian took center seat at the big table. The crescent shaped piece of furniture was at high shine, and each of the other New Samaritans took their own seats.  The seats weren't marked visibly, but people, even superheroes, are creatures of habit and territory. One could read a lot into the arrangement I suppose. Pinprick was at Lady Obsidian's right hand. Tornado at her left. Right of Pinprick was Arctic Fox. Did she just like Pinprick more than Tornado, or just enjoy more room? Not that chairs were packed next to each other. Maybe she used to sit closer to Lady O herself, but the tension over her boyfriend not getting on the team had driven a literal distance between them as well a social one?
 
Maybe I was over thinking this?
 
There was that brief awkward moment of trying to figure out where I would sit, but given a choice between the ice queen and the fun-loving speedster, well, it was pretty easy. Besides, being on the other side of Tornado would balance the table out. I slid into the chair.
 
"Leather upholstery?" I said as I eased into the chair, "This is a nicely funded team."
 
A hovering tray brought me an iced tea, just like mom used to make, "Very nicely funded, and very hospitable," I added, "Thank you, Mabel."
 
"You're most welcome, Romeo," Mabel chuckled.
 
For a moment, I wondered if …aw crud. Unlike the bathrooms or bedrooms, the pool area wasn't off limits to visual. In fact, leaving that much water open without supervision when kids like Glen visited would be downright negligent. I had showed off to impress Ariana, but Mabel had seen it too.
 
Oh, AI or not, she and I were going to have to talk.
 
"Some of the team's funding comes from my patents," Lady Obsidian said with amusement "And Arctic Fox's family knows investments, but I'd say the bulk of credit goes to Pinprick," She inclined her head to him, "He provided a lot of the initial funding for us to invest and capitalize on in the first place."
 
"You're the rich one?" I couldn't hide my surprise as I looked at Pinprick.
 
"What? The little guy can't make money?" Pinprick said.
 
"Yeah! I hear six-inch-tall guys are great at stockmarkets," Tornado said and gave that 'wait for it grin' before letting it drop, "They're masters of the short sell."
"I will end you like a bad novel," Pinprick warned him before turning to me, "There may have been a bag of gold involved in my origin story. Memories were hazy, but I had quite a lot of coins on me when I came to."
 
My facial expression must have shown how much I didn't trust this story, because Lady Obsidian threw in, "He's not kidding. He had this bag of gold coins, bigger than he is. We invested it for him. And it's worked pretty well."
 
"Glen doesn't know it," Pinprick smiled, "But eventually his ass is going Ivy League."
 
"Yes," Lady Obsidian nodded, "College is very important," And she tilted her head my way, "Very."
 
I squirmed a bit, "So, you had news for us from your mystic friend to share with us?"
 
"There's trouble," Lady Obsidian admitted.
 
"Of course, there's trouble," Pinprick threw up his hands, "Has any mystic ever shown up and delivered good news? It's never 'I have seen the signs, and you know, the crops will be good and your sports teams will be victorious'. It's always 'The portents bode ill, something ancient has awakened, and it hungers' oooooo" He made spooky sounds.
 
"Quit being so dramatic, Pinprick," Arctic Fox rolled her eyes at the archer before turning her gaze back to Lady Obsidian, "So what did she say."
The armored woman paused uncomfortably before saying, "She's read the signs. There's a very old magic that is stirring, and there's a sense of very dark ambition. We should be alert, and concerned."
 
"Called it!" Pinprick declared triumphantly.
 
"Tell me she had more details than that?" I raised a brow, "I mean, mystics give me the creeps sure, but there's got to be more than that."
 
"There is," Lady Obsidian answered, "A few nights ago was a sending, a powerful one, one that engulfed the world."
 
"What's a sending?" Arctic Fox inquired. I was glad she did, because I wasn't sure myself.
 
"Well, understand that when it comes to the occult I'm quite the layman myself," Lady Obsidian explained, "But essentially it's a message cast on the frequency of the spiritual. It can often be a vision so powerful it's immersive. Subjects of a sending may think they're hallucinating, day dreaming or what have you."
"And this one went all over the world?" Tornado inquired, "How come everyone all over the world is clueless about it? I mean, at the very least you'd think hundreds of psychics would be doing the head clutch, phone calls to 911 would be pouring in about what folks saw…so on?"
 
"It depends on the contingencies and requirements wired into the spell according to my good friend Doctor Salem," Lady Obsidian answered, "She says that one can put limitations on who is allowed to key in on the Sending. They don't have to be psychic or mystical… though those might sense something is going on, brushing past them, like she did. The requirements can be things like 'Born under the sign of Leo' or 'Only those with blue eyes', or a mix. Unfortunately, she can't know who it was intended for or the contingencies in place. She only knows what she managed to divine. I gather it's like checking for residue at a crime scene for her, but that's mere speculation on that part."
 
"I always wondered," Tornado said absently, "Why she's Doctor Salem, but you're the one with the multiple degrees and you go by Lady Obsidian. I mean, you're both smart women who deserve titles of respect, but why are you the Lady in the duo?"
 
"Because when she and I were younger, I was the one who wore a slip while super-heroing," The older woman said without missing a beat, "Focus, people. Doctor Salem cast some separate divinations of her own, and she believes there is someone or something important here that might give us insight into who is behind this powerful sending and to what purpose they are working. I know this is a bit outside our bailiwick, but she wouldn't have come to me for help if she thought it would be a waste of time. Something big is brewing."
 
Something was bothering me about this, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. You know that feeling you get when you know you're missing something but can't pin it down but you're sure you'll be kicking yourself hours later? I was having one of those moments.
 
"I can ask Valorous if he knows anything related to this," Arctic Fox suggested, "If it's a really big problem brewing, we might need more muscle."
"We need brains more than muscle," Pinprick said, "At least when it comes to solving mysteries."
 
"He has a brain," Arctic Fox said defensively, "He's knows police procedures and he notices everything."
 
Lady Obsidian was quiet for a second then, "Tell him about this if you like. If it's as grave a threat as Doctor Salem suggests, then it won't do any good leaving him unprepared. One or two non-team members knowing won't hurt. Just have him keep it from the public. We don't want a panic when conspiracy theorists try to pencil in their own narratives on this admittedly blank sheet we've got."
 
Arctic Fox was pleased, "Good, right after this then. Is there anything else?" clearly she was eager to get going.
 
"Ahem, it's your turn to patrol with the N-E-W-B-I-E," Pinprick reminded her.
 
"The Newbie can S-P-E-L-L," I shot a look at him.
 
Arctic Fox shot me a look like she was being asked to wipe the nose of an obnoxious kid brother, "I don't suppose one of you would…"
 
"No can do," Tornado said, "I have a public relations event to get to."
 
"The Swedish twins?" Pinprick grinned.
 
I grumbled, at must as the injustice off it all as anything.
 
"Yes," He admitted with a smile, "Obviously in case of emergency I'll head right out to help whoever."
 
"Pinprick?" Arctic Fox looked at him hopefully.
 
"Haahahahaha…." The little man laughed then, "no."
 
"Oh, come on," She said exasperated, "Tornado is not the only one who might hope for a little romantic time. Surely one of you can take the newb on."
"Feeling a little hurt here," I admitted. I was a big guy.  I wasn't being used to being treated like the nerd at dodgeball team selection, "You guys know I did fight crime and superhero and everything before I met you, right? The city's new to me, but the duty isn't."
 
"You have a point," Lady Obsidian said, "Though the escorts were not meant to hold your hand so much as letting you get used to how each team member worked. The better you know us, the better we coordinate.  Still, as others seem to have something to do, and I need to get some lab time in… sure, keep your ear bug in, and don't be afraid to call me. Okay?"
 
"Sounds good," I smiled, "Any suggestions on where to patrol?"
 
Pinprick considered my question seriously, "Try the north pier near Stern market," He suggested, "Two street gangs, the Northside Leones and the Wardawgs are meeting. Believe it or not, to bury the hatchet… if rumors are right. That's over all good news, but it's also possible someone's itchy trigger finger and bad blood over old scraps might have them decide they just prefer to kill each other. You don't strike me as stealthy, but it is near water so…."
"I'll spy on it and make sure it doesn't go south," I said with a nod.
 
"Good news is, they're nothing you couldn't take in a fight, Fish Guy," He assured me, "switchblades and bullets not exactly a threat to you."
"I'm on it," I looked at Lady Obsidian.
 
"I think we're done for the night," She nodded, "Just everyone, remember to keep your ears open for talk of what might be that sending. It's not a lot to go on, but sometimes we get lucky."
 
Costa Sagrado had some beautiful shores, glorious blue waters beyond them, and was surprisingly clean. Mind you, the pier area was less so but it wasn't so filthy as to make me cringe going through it. There is little worse than breathing water and find out you're sucking down sewage masquerading as a harbor. To this day, I will not discuss New York Harbor. Thank god, this city was different.
 
I came near the meeting sight, and peeked my head out. I have incredible night vision. Light only goes down so far into the ocean and my powers are built for it. So, the two gangs gathering together at this late hour might as well having been having their chat by noon.
 
The Northside Leones had mostly denim jackets with Leonine designs either on the jackets themselves or tattooed on their bodies. They wore a lot of blue and gold. They were a predominantly Mexican American group, but they took any angry young Latino boy into their ranks. Strength in numbers and all that. The Wardawgs were the older gang, at least in this city. They'd been around in one incarnation or another since the 80s. Mostly consisting of equally angry young black poor, they had originally formed for mutual defense against what they saw as a racist local police force and a biased economy. Any halo either gang ever had though had been pretty badly tarnished by their own acts of theft, violence, and drug dealing.
 
They weren't breaking any laws now though. And some of them looked weary to the bone tired as they gazed upon their opposites.
 
"You keep crossing down into Mignola boulevard," the leader of the Wardawgs said, "Yet at the same time you say you want peace."
 
"Some of our gang, we got family of the East part of the street," The leader of the Northside Leones answered after conferring with some in his gang who I assumed were either advisers or the ones with the relatives, "You can't ask us to desert family. You know?"
 
"Yeah, I hear your mother is a pretty tight fit" One Wardawg further back gave a jab.
 
The Northsiders began to curse, some reaching for guns or knives, only to have their leader shout at them in Spanish to chill the hell out. The Wardawg leader turned around to the joker in their crew, "You talking or am I talking? Shut your ass up."
The situation de-escalated, and I took a deep relieved breath.
 
I wasn't alone. Neither one of these gangs wanted a fight now, despite enmity. Kids this young should not be acting like burned out war vets.
"Okay, how about you get East side, we keep the rest," The Wardawg leader said, "Just the East."
 
Some mutters, but grudging nods, "Sounds good."
 
"In exchange, we want use of St. Thomas Bridge without being hassled and…"
 
Even with night vision, I almost missed it. There was a movement above from a rooftop. I had been so busy making sure neither gang started a fight with the other that I hadn't considered a third party! There was no fancy flip and three point landing this time. I jumped out of the water yelling "Look out!" and tried to cover the incoming fire.
 
It was not a single shot.
 
A spray of gunfire came from the rooftop came down on my back and the area around me in a hard steel rain! It didn't so much as scratch my skin, but despite my best efforts, I wasn’t' the only one who got hit. One Wardawg cried out and dropped down as his knee was pierced by the resulting spray. On my other side, the Northside Leone Leader himself cursed as his left arm was tagged.
 
I wondered who the #### was doing this?
 
But it was one of the gangers that knew… "Christ, it's Bloodwatch!"
 
And they panicked. I guess I couldn't blame them. They were not bullet proof, I was. Yet the sheer terror in their eyes as it settled in who was after them startled me. They easily had the man out numbered twenty to one, though he did have the high ground.
 
Instead of organized retreat or counter attack, members of both gangs freaked and each did their own thing. A few tried to use me for cover. Several drew their own weapons and fired at the figure on the roof, but their hand guns didn't have good accuracy at that range and again. Besides, I swear some of them had their hands shaking. Others just plan ran.
 
Now, I've only hunted a few times, but honestly, this had all the marks of a turkeyshoot in the making, and the gangbangers would be playing the part of the feathered ones. Bloodwatch shot on the run, and worse, he shot with accuracy even then, a scarlet blur that fired another burst clipping three more who were trying to get to the end of the pier. They were too far away for me to help!
 
I couldn't shield them all! And for a moment my utter inability to defend them directly almost overwhelmed me. I needed to buy the others time to run.
My eyes spotted a speedboat near the pier. No engine…but for what I had in mind, it wouldn't need one, "Go now!" I said to the gangers, bent down to grab the boat, and threw it at Bloodwatch with such force I sheared a bit off the ledge of the roof as it smashed towards him!
 
Dark vigilante he might be, but that one caught him off guard. A spray of broken boat clipped him and I heard a groan. The gangers came out of their right long enough to realize this was their one chance. Those that could run, ran! Others limped or crawled, and a few, wounded (Or possibly dead already!) lay there.  
 
"Help your friends," I ordered, and to my surprise some gang members already where.
 
"This is Eel at the Pier" I announced to the ear bug, "Bloodwatch is trying to kill them all! Kids have been shot! I need ambulances, please!"
Even as I was doing that, I launched myself up to follow where the boat had been.
 
The beartrap caught my foot. Had I been non-powered, it would have mangled it beyond recognition if it didn't just flat out cut it off.
 
I twisted to get a better look at Bloodwatch. Like you'd expect, his outfit was blood red with black highlights. Color aside, there was a rather military look to what he had on. And where a regular soldier might have a patch showing rank on the shoulders, he instead had Justice's Scales with an Eyeball over them. I could see dark skin under his red tinted visor.
 
"You son of a ##### murderous psycho," I snarled at him, "If you're hoping to hurt me you'll have to do better than this." I wanted his focus on me, not the gang members. I raised my foot up ready to lift the trap and shatter it to prove a point to him.
 
"I believe you," Blood watch said, hand dropping from his gun and to his belt. There was a click!
 
And electricity coursed through my body as if I were golfing in a thunderstorm! There were two sounds besides the zzzzzark of the juice. One was a popping fizz burst sound in my ear where the communicator was. The other was some guy screaming bloody murder in pain.
 
Then I realized the 'some guy' was me!
 
Forcing myself to work through the pain, I shattered the trap and broke the circuit in more ways than one and staggered towards Bloodwatch.
 
"Why are you protecting them?" He spat, "They're murderers, poisoners, and thieves! You save them, you will be responsible when they kill others, you understand that right?"
 
Another burst round caught me square in the chest. Something was different about them? Wait, were these rubber bullets? Odd… he's trying to fry me and then spare me? Maybe he's trying to gauge my limits while at the same time not killing me.
 
Still, since he was feeling chatty, I obliged as I moved through, "It's not our place," I said, "You don't get to decide who is irredeemable and who isn't.  We stop them, we don't kill them!" I tried to grab him.
 
He grabbed my wrist instead and flipped me off the damn roof using my own momentum against me.
 
"Who does then? Some judge who goes 'ooh this one isn't eighteen yet, surely he didn't know what he was doing when he put a bullet to an innocent man's head and pulled the trigger?' Or maybe God? You a believer maybe? Think the skyfairy will sort it all out."
 
I caught myself on the ledge of one window, "As a matter of fact, yeah, I'm a believer more or less. Raised that way at least. I have doubts, but sure, how about we got with letting God decide who lives or dies."
 
I yanked hard and launched myself up to find he already crossed to the other side of the roof ready to shoot some of the downed gangers and make sure he had gotten them.
 
He turned when he saw me and scowled.
 
"Oh, I might believe there's a God. But even if there is," He said, reaching for a grenade and lobbing it at me, "He's not very good at his job. No, I believe in Justice, real justice where the weak don't have to hide from the vicious and strong! I believe that if you see a monster, you don't wait until after it's ravaged a village. You put it down before it can disturb the hair of one innocent child's head!"
 
The grenade exploded in my face, not with force or heat… but with light! I couldn't see! My own eyewear might have dimmed it a bit, but not by much and I was completely blind!
 
"You and your friends make me sick, Eel," Bloodwatch said with contempt, "You save the day but feed the revolving door that let some punk kill someone else the next week. You throw these animals in cages, so they become wilder, more dangerous animals, and then seem surprised they come back stronger and kill or poison even more efficiently. You don't train rabid dogs, Eel. You put them the #### down. Until you learn to do that, you are a placebo fighting a cancer! Me? I'm the scalpel!"
 
I swiped empty air, trying to find out where he was speaking from.
 
"I won't kill you, I don't want to kill you, blind as you are more ways than one," Blood watch said, "I've got a titanium bullet, a one shot. I could put it through your eye and I bet that would take even you out. But if I have hope at all, it's that you'll wake up and realize I'm right. I won't kill you. I Kill the guilty, not the stupid. I am going to finish I started before those ambulances closing can help… and if you don't like the sounds of the shots and screams. Cover your ears, because that's all you can do right now."
 
Nothing! Nothing was clearing!  I still couldn't see! At this rate by the time my eyes did clear he'd have killed off the gunshot victims on the pier.
 
"Screw your hateful zero tolerance bullcrap," I seethed, "Screw your arrogant dismissal of everyone who ever tried to help others reform while you spout off about your own twisted brand of despair you pretend is hope… " I raised both hands, "But mostly? SCREW YOU!"
 
I broke the roof.
 
I hadn't tried the shockwave before now because I knew it would just put a hole in this weak roof. Well, now the target was the roof, and I didn't give a damn!
I heard stone and wood alike break under me and felt myself plummeting as the edges caved in. I heard the clatter and thump of something, or possibly some one, falling nearby. I heard cursing from Bloodwatch. You know what I didn't hear?
 
Gunshots. I didn't hear gunshots.
 
I knew my eyesight had come back when the debris was lifted off me by shimmering fields of energy. Lady Obsidian scooped me out of that mess like I was a batch of vanilla ice cream.
 
"I'm okay," I told her, "I just see so I was worried if I punched I might…."
 
"Knock the debris into an innocent," She nodded, "Don't worry, the only thing hurt was a condemned building and any squatters were gone as soon as the heard of two dangerous gang meetings."
 
"Bloodwatch…" I said sitting up, "he…"
 
"Got away," She said, "Won't be the first time he's slipped one of us, Eel."
 
"And the gang members?" I asked, "Did any of them…"I swallowed, "I think I saw one get shot in the chest."
 
"You got the request for ambulances out before your com was fried," She assured me, "As for if any died? That's…yet to be determined. There are four in critical condition. Four more in Serious. If not for you? They wouldn't that well off. It's out of our hands now but you did well."
 
"It doesn't feel like it," I said, "Not with … he got away, some could die anyway. I should have…"
 
"Weight of the world," She said and I realized she was carrying me in the field away from the scene, and towards the base whether I liked it or not, "I told you that you cannot carry it alone. For such a bright young man, you do not always listen."
 
"Yeah, mom says that's why she went prematurely gray," I muttered.
 
"You should send that poor woman flowers more often," Lady Obsidian observed.
 
She was, of course, right on that one, "If this is just an attempt to take my mind off those guys in the hospital," I chuckled, "You may have to try another tact because it's only partially working."
 
There was a pause as we made our way towards the mall.
 
Finally…
"You know, Eel. There are a lot of good and reputable colleges that offer online courses…"
 
I groaned and thumped my head against the inside of the force bubble.

Not a lot happened in this one. I guess it's more of a bridge to other stuff..
 
"I'm sorry," I said to the landlord, "How much for the closet errr apartment again?"  
 
The apartment before me was, well, it wasn't falling down, but I think the department of corrections board would disapprove of it as being too small for their prisoners, especially as I was sure I'd be sharing with some local insect life. It had a window, one the size of a postage stamp. And the price that had been asked for it was astronomical.
 
Well, by North Carolina standards. And perhaps I was exaggerating the lack of space, but not by much.
 
The landlord didn't find me amusing, "That's a normal price for a prime location like this," He snorted.
 
"The location being facing over a back alley?" I said looking through that postage stamp window.
 
"The location being in the city, redneck," This from a potbellied guy wearing a wife-beater shirt with a beer in his hand. Apparently, my accent topped his wardrobe, at least in his eyes.
 
As much as I hated to admit it, the guy had a point. The hows and whys have of why ninety percent of all villain attacks are in Urban areas as opposed to Suburban and Rural zones have been debated and analyzed for decades by people far smarter and more educated on the subject than me. But the prevailing theory on why cities are the places besieged by super criminals is "because that's where the money is".
 
It's not universal. The small town of Pluck, Kentucky once became besieged by some supervillains for weeks before a group of heroes from Nashville (the Music City Militia) took a road trip to the rescue and put an end to and saved the day. From what I hear, one of the locals even stole a villain's power source. Now she defends Pluck all by herself.  
 
I'm not one for theft, but… good on her.
 
But if I wanted to be close to the action, any action, my best bet was an apartment in the city. Preferably ocean side to play to my strengths, and prices, even blocks away from the ocean,  were outrageous. Same for being down town or uptown; frankly I wasn't sure how folks managed to afford to live in this city at all unless they came into it already middle class or up.
 
That said, this was a bad deal all around, and I didn't like my potential land lord.
 
"Pass," I finally said to the guy, "This is nothing like what you put on your website."
 
"Fine," He snorted, "You know the way out."
 
"yeah, I'll be sure to tip the three-headed dog out front," I shot back and opened the door to leave. A little old lady stared up at me. She had large lensed glasses of round shape that made her look like an owl.
 
"Oh, pardon, ma'am," I said politely.
 
"Is Mr. Bateman in there?" She asked for the Landlord by name.
 
"Yes, yes, it is," I said, "He was just showing me the room. You're welcome to it."
 
"Ha, got one of my own already," She shook her head, "And the door still won't close half the time," She said to the land lord as I moved to the side, "You told me you'd fix it four days ago."
 
"The bum of a handy man quit," The landlord shrugged, "You want to move, Mitzhim? I get paid for the next two months either way. Hope you're not late for tomorrow's rent by the way"
 
"That's Mrs Mitzhim to you, God rest my husband's soul, and what if I get robbed?' She said with a sprinkling of heat.
.
"I'm not responsible for what scumballs do," He snorted.
 
"Actually," I coughed into my hand, "You are. And she doesn't owe you this month's rent."
 
"What's this?" Mrs. Mitzhim asked.
 
"Or any month's rent until the problem is fixed," I continued.
 
"Bullcrap!" He snorted.
 
"No, law crap," I countered, "I may hate this city's prices, but it's got a lot protections, on the books, for tenants and their rights. Until he fixes that, you're off the hook."
 
"Get the hell out of here," Mr Bateman snarled!
 
I grinned and started to slide out only to be caught by Mrs. Mitzhim.
 
"Yes, ma'am?" I inquired, surprised at her action.
 
"You're a nice boy, too nice for this place. I have a grandson. His last roommate sucked…I'd move in with him but the building has no elevator and it's four floors up. It would kill my knees. You interested?"
 
Was I interested? I glanced at the hole this guy told me I should be begging for, "Yes, yes, ma'am, I am."
 
Aaron Mitzhim's apartment was not huge by any stretch. Heck, I could fit both bedrooms in this apartment easily into the room I would have at the base.  But the price was better than anything I could pay on my own, the location was close to the ocean, and I didn't see any roaches.
 
"I can't thank you enough for actually letting me jump the line on this one," I admitted, "This is nice."
 
"No," Aaron said, "It's decent. You've just seen so many run down closets that it looks nice in comparision, but thanks. And don't worry about it, my grandmother vouches for you? That's enough in my book."
 
Aaron was not what I was expecting. The mohawk, nose ring, and vulgar tee shirt just didn't click 'sweet grandson' with me, but you know? That was my hang up.
 
"All I did was point out a few of her legal rights," I shrugged, "And as much to bust that jerk landlord's chops as anything. I didn't like him."
 
"Yeah, I'm getting her out of there one day," His eyes narrowed, "Get enough cash to find her a real home. I'm probably the only punk musician in this town who openly admits to wanting to sell out."
 
Yeah, I was liking Aaron. He as a no BS kind of guy, "I can think of worse reasons for doing so. And no, I don't mind the smaller room. The skylight more than makes up for it," I considered, "I take it you are not going to be a quiet room mate? Musicians have to practice."
 
"I never play in here after midnight," Aaron said as if that was a major concession, "But yeah, I am not going to win any Mr. Popularity votes from the dregs below us. You okay with that?"
 
"I sure am, as long as you're used to incredibly weird hours and abrupt departures with little to no explanation," I said trying to cover the superhero angles, "I value my privacy even if it's not a quiet privacy."
 
"Pay your share on time, respect my privacy in return, and never ever play Vanilla Ice or Justin Beiber near me because I don't want to go to jail," He advised.
 
"I'd snort guano before I'd play either one of them," I crossed my heart in front of him.
 
"Yeah, we'll get along fine," He nodded and offered his hand, "Welcome to your new home, Caleb."
 
We shook on it.
 
"Thanks," I was curious, "What's then name of the band you're in?"
 
"Kennedy Can't Duck," He answered.
 
"Righteous," I said with an utterly straight face. Sure, I had the base, but if I wasn't going to live there then I needed this place. I had lucked out and I knew it. Hell, if he told me the band's name was 'How was the play, Mrs. Lincoln? I would have acted like it was in perfectly good taste.
 
And I didn't mention a little detail like my room-mate's band name to the only member of our team who was old enough to remember JFK when I updated her later that night, "So I took your advice. Thanks for the spare costumes by the way."
 
"Just one would get awfully torn up or smelly after a time," She smiled at me, but something hung in the air, and I began to realize what it was.
"Speaking of costumes, I best get my own on and go patrolling," A chance of getting pummeled by bad guys sounded a lot better than the lecture I had the feeling she had been waiting to deliver. I turned to go do just that.
 
"Caleb Lambert," She said using my full name in that way older people do when they want to bring you up short. Worse thing is it works. What a horrible world we live in where one's name is akin to being grabbed by the scruff off the neck.
 
"Yes, ma'am?" I winced. I hadn't even taken a step, so I really had no choice but to turn at meet her gaze, "Something amiss?"
 
"You know exactly what's amiss," Dr. Vernon frowned, "I told you to leave the building after all the innocents were out.You stubbornly decided your own health and safety were less valuable than a post office and disobeyed me."
 
"Yes, but…"
 
She held up a slim finger, not done yet, "When I invited you onto the team, one thing we agreed on was that I was team leader. Now I understand heroes will be heroes, but we are supposed to risk our lives for the citizenry, not things. You ignored me. Now are you willing to accept my commands or not?"
 
"Yes, doctor," I said with a sigh, "But…"
 
She nodded, a sign to continue and that she was listening.
 
"Honestly, even if I had known it was just a post office I still would have done it," I said, "I think lives might have been lost in the long run if their  mission had been seen as any part of as a success."
 
Dr. Vernon's left I, well, I couldn't be sure, but I think It twitched, "You remind me of Hercules."
 
"The Greek God?" My eyes widened, "You've met him?"
 
An amused look crossed her still lovely face, "I mean the myth. Because you are so eager to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders, someone is going to use that against you one day to get out of something and there you'll be stuck there."
 
"I don't follow how my saving the building relates to …" I guess I trailed off, because she went on.
 
"What we do, what we are, is hard enough without trying to measure every possible outcome of what we do and don't do and trying to social engineer it all. It is one thing to be a role model, it is another to take everything on yourself. People who hate will find an excuse to justify the unjustifiable. Your denying them one avenue just means they'll find another. Yes symbols are powerful things, but you are more valuable than a photo op for justice, and I did not want you on this team to be a martyr for the intangible and as yet non-existent. It is too damn easy in this business to go from "I'd give my life for theirs" to "I'd give my life hoping I can keep the world nice". We are superheroes, not gods. And we have to respect each person's responsibility to rise above or wallow," She had a good voice for speech giving, darn it.
 
I frowned, conceding some points in my head, "You seem …awfully insistent on this whole respecting the common man thing. Not that I disagree, but did you ever…"
 
"Make a mistake when I took my job as role model to mean I knew better than others what they needed," A sad look crossed her face, "Oh honey, I thought you read my book."
 
"Yeah, but your son wasn't your…" I started to say.
 
The woman's neck stiffened at that, as if she was experiencing a stabbing pain. And I supposed she had.
 
"I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't realize it would still hurt after all this time," I said apologetically.
 
 
"That's because you've never been a parent," Dr. Vernon rubbed her eyes, stress, no doubt, "Go switch into your costume. We've got a team meeting about what an old friend told me."
 
"Right," I started to go again.
 
"And Caleb? I may not like that you put bricks and mortar over your own safety, but you did a fine job leveraging the weight until I got there. You are a very smart young man in a lot of ways."
 
Maybe it was just the pinch of sugar after a cup of castor oil, but I smiled at her praise anyway.
 
"Thank you," I said as I continued towards my room in the base, "Not bad for a guy who dropped out of college."
 
I thought I heard her say "Wait, you what now???"
 
But if that's all she said, it was no big deal.

OK, I got on a bit of a riff today, and it turned out I wrote more than usual in one day. I'm gonna split it up a bit. In this segment, we meet Ted. And honestly, I'm not sure why that feels like it might be of cosmic import.
 
"Enjoy your breakfast?" Tornado inquired after I had adjusted to the communicator going in my ear. The vertigo sensation was quicker this time.
 
"Mabel's a pretty darn good cook," I answered, "I had a breakfast burrito."
 
"That's the great thing about California, my friend, you can get real Mexican here," He said with such casualness I guess I didn't bother to hide my bemused expression, "What?"
 
"We have real Mexican food in North Carolina too, and real Thai, and real Moroccan Cuisine," I pointed out, "Usually with actual people of those heritages running the restaurants, but when I was in New York City for two weeks everyone there thought that it must all be grits and pig's feet and that only they had the secret of real culinary diversity."
 
"Bah, New Yorker's have no imagination," Tornado sniffed and I could tell an old rivalry was at play here, then added, "But I get your point. Pardon, my state pride may have turned into regionalism." To his credit, he looked chagrinned.
 
"It's okay," I assured him, "I know that there are going to be some fusion foods I've never tried here before, though we experiment with that in the South too. I love me a good bacon Blini…"
 
"A bacon bilini?" he said, "You took a Jewish food and…"
 
"It's not always Jewish," I said.
 
"Clearly not, not once you put bacon in it, no," He followed me to the hovercar.
 
 Pinprick wasn't with us, and for once, even if Mabel was going to driving it, I wanted in the Driver's seat.
 
"Now, a good Southern Style BBQ quesadilla deep fried? Mmm mmm…" I kissed my fingertips as if recalling a fantastic meal from grandmother's plate, "hard to beat that. Goes great with hog jowls."
 
"You're yanking my chain, man" He got in the other side of the vehicle.
 
"About the jowls? Yeah…" I smiled, and off we went.
 
The car shot up through the still opening roof, and hit the Costa Sagrado sky. This time, there was no emergency to fly to, so I got the second easy kind of looping tour I had once before. The sun was shining, and the weather was perfect. My own regional pride aside, I must give the edge to Californians there. Mediterranean climates are wonderful.
 
"Let's hit the residential areas," He said, "After the bulk of people start their nines to fives, there's a brief spike in everything from full on break ins to jerks taking packages off doorsteps."
 
"Boldly protecting your e-shipment from Big Online Company number three," I muttered shaking my head.
 
"The ballads will be epic," the local hero nodded sagely.
 
The residential area he had chosen first was a mix of repetitive far too close properties and surprisingly bright colors. I guess when your houses resemble each other, you start painting doors, trim, shutters and roofs in as many bright colors as possible. From above, it was quite lovely. Even the roofs that had faded mixed in with the brighter ones to make a kaleidoscope of hues. At least where I was from, most new houses embraced more neutral colors like gray or beige, and while sometimes stately, that could also be a bit drab.
 
"Okay, Mabel, we'll take it from here," Tornado assured her, then looked at me, "Jump out anytime."
 
"We'd cross more terrain in the car," I said, feeling a bit dumb for stating the obvious. This also brought up one of my short comings as a superhero. Like I had demonstrated before, I can jump amazingly far, but I always feel silly bounding around. There's very little dignity in squatting, launching, landing with a thud, and then starting it all over again. Also, it can be hard on the terrain if you're not careful. I don't run at superhuman speeds, and a standard walk or even jog in costume invites… social commentary. I'm a swimmer, but as everyone knows, that requires a liquid medium.
 
"Hey man, think of the criminals who might be out there," Tornado raised a brow, "They see a cop car just breeze by fast… you think they're that discouraged? Nope. They figure those cops are gone one minute after they're seen and won't be back anytime soon. Now, if cops get out of their car and move around on foot…  suddenly the would-be crime culprits got better places to be."
 
"Point," I said, and leaped over the side. Another twenty foot drop or so, another painless landing.
 
Tornado had a more casual glide out of the vehicle, and the car rose up and out, ready to return when we called Mabel on the com.
Speaking of which…
 
"Test Test, just making sure the ear piece is working," I smiled and added, "over."
 
"Roger that, mi amigo," Tornado's chuckle came in loud in clear through the ear-piece, "There we go. I'll take high ground, you take the low."
 
"And I'll get to Scotland before you," I answered without thinking about it. Oh well, what the heck, I had ridden in a bus in costume, I could stand walking around in one… in broad daylight, in a neighborhood of folks who didn't know me.
 
Man, I missed bank robberies already.
 
For Tornado, it was easy.  I was pretty much redundant, as he moved so quickly, and unrestrainedly so, that he could have scoped the whole neighborhood in the time it took me to walk a half block. He shot through the air like a peregrine falcon, fast and agile. Only his circling back to keep me in his sights now and then restrained him at all.
 
Okay, for the first five minutes, I felt a bit silly. Then? Well, I met Ted.
 
Staggering out of his house in a pair of pajama bottoms and a ratty T-shirt, Ted blinked twice as the great golden orb above as if it should have at least warned him, then shielded his eyes and saw me. His T-shirt had a cartoon pony on it, and a slogan saying 'It's Brony at the top'.  He was too far gone, facial hair wise for five o'clock shadow, but I couldn't quite call it a beard. His age was hard to place, could have been as young as twenty five or as old as thirty two.
 
"Hey, Brah," He waved, "I'm Ted."
 
"Uhm, Hi Ted," I said, "I'm Eel. How you doing?" This was kind of odd, but I was raised that when folks said hello, you at least said hello back, and yes, even if you don't care, you are polite enough to ask them how things are with them, their family, etc. Southern hospitality is based a lot on smiling and nodding and waiting for whoever to please walk away.
 
"Not to bring you down, Eel, but I'm in a bit of a panic," He said in a voice so laid back, I'm not sure we agreed on what the term 'panic' meant.  He didn't elaborate.
 
Okay, I thought, I'll bite, "What's got you panicked, Ted?"
 
"Well, first… if you're a supervillain, my life could be in danger," He said with an easygoing matter of fact combo that was kind of endearing. I mean, I suspected he might be stoned out of his mind, but after my talk of regional stereotypes I didn't want to presume that about just any Californian I met.
 
"I'm a superhero," I reassured him, that is, if he really needed reassurance. If he was fearing for his life, he really wasn't putting much energy into the terror, "I'm a member of the New Samaritans."
 
"Bitchin," He gave a thumb's up, "The Sammies are tight. Good folk," He paused, then looked left, and looked right, "Respecting her agency and all? I would totally do Fox."
 
It was the second time that day I had nearly swallowed my own face trying to contain a laugh, "I see. Thank you for entrusting me with this knowledge."
 
"It's cool man, you seem alright," Ted said, "now that I know you're not a villain."
 
"The other reason you're in a panic?" I coughed into my hand.
 
"What's going on?" A voice popped in my ear, "Everything okay?"
 
"I'm not sure," I responded tilting my head to the side and muttering trusting the mandible action to transmit sound like they told me it would for these things, "I have a gent here in a panic, but that panic appears to be the only thing keeping him from slipping into a coma. Also, is our team nick named the Sammies?"
 
"Yup," Tornado sounded amused, "So, yes, you are Fish Guy of the Sammies."
 
"My life is now complete," I said, then noticed that Ted was staring at me, "Sorry, Ted. I didn't mean to be rude. Team mate buzzing in my ear, I'm still getting used to how the com works. You were saying?"
 
"It's cool, now a days half the conversations I see are folks talking to mid air," Ted said, "And they don't lock us up for it like they would have decades ago. Brave New world…" He yawned, "Pardon. I was saying Emperor Norton is missing."
 
"Do his subjects know?" I said, feeling clueless.
 
Ted actually laughed, well, it was more like a 'heh' sound, but it was sincere, and his smile showed great mirth, "Oh right. You might know… the first Emperor Norton was this awesome historical guy… Emperor of the United States, Protector of All Mexico. Fantastic dude who lived in San Francisco. You should totally look him up. The Emperor Norton I'm looking for Is my cat, well, more like I'm his human, but I'm a bit worried, you know?"
 
I winced. It wasn't exactly a cat in the tree thing, but it could easily lead to that. I mean, I don't want to cop an attitude, but there are real crimes going on out there. There are actual human beings who are lost and at risk. Cat lost and found is really a bit…well, it's not very superheroic.
 
"He's like, a silver tabby and …" Ted began to describe the feline in highly needless detail, including Norton's preference for tuna over salmon.
Please don't ask me to help find him, I chanted in my head, trying to will the universe to give me a pass here, please don't ask me to help you find him….
"…and that's why I suspect he and I get along despite our political differences," Ted finished his description, and then tilted his head at my with those big ultra- relaxed eyes with just a hint of concern in them, "Could you help me find him?"
 
Oh, sweet mother of god…
 
I wanted to say, but kept it to my head as I plastered on a smile and said, "Sure, Ted. Let's…look around."
 
I touched my ear, "Hey, Tornado, we're looking for a silver tabby and… stop chuckling man, I can hear you. Anyway, with your speed…"
 
"Sorry, man, I'm already helping someone else, " Tornado assured me, "The Borlyn sisters are having trouble moving a washing machine."
 
"The Borlyn sisters better be sweet old ladies with blue and or gray hair," I muttered.
 
He spoke back in an offended tone, "Sir, we help people of all ages when called, even attractive young twins of Swedish descent, shame on you for your limited criteria of who and who does not deserve our aid. Now go find that cat, rookie."
 
As I glanced down the street where Tornado was indeed talking it up with two well-built blondes that could have been swimsuit models, swim suit models with sexy accents no doubt, I realized that, friendly as my team was to me, I was still, in their view, on the bottom of the totem pole.  And yeah, given a choice of chores, I was going to be the one cat wrangling, at least for the first month.
 
"Maybe if you got some of that tuna and brought it out here?" I suggested to Ted and resigned myself to Kitty retrieval.
 
"An hour and a half," I grumbled, "I searched for Emperor Norton for an hour and a half while you were being cooed at by Heidi and Inga," I shot a look at Tornado.
"Jealous?" He asked.
 
"Yes," I nodded vigorously, "And how."
 
"I really did have to help them move a washing machine," Tornado explained.
 
"I have superstrength and heightened stamina.I'm built for heavy lifting!"
 
"Don't yell," Tornado said but as that smile was still on his face, I figured he was more amused by my agitation than offended, "The important thing is, you found the cat, and both of us made friends. You with Ted, and I with the Borlyn sisters."
 
"Trade ya," I said without hesitation.
 
"You're too young to be such a bitter man, my friend," Tornado sighed, "Now, patrolling is almost done, we're in a grateful neighborhood, the sun is still shining. The birds are singing ...the stoners are petting their cats."
 
"So much hate," I muttered.

Which is certainly a major reason any number of people didn't vote for him.
 
Unfortunately, sufficient people either thought he'd become 'presidential' or that he'd surround himself with professionals who'd keep him from doing anything too damaging or whatever reason they had for preferring him to an alternative.

(From Jesse McLaren's twitter)
 
PEPSI: Check out this PR disaster.
 
UNITED: That's amateur hour. Watch -this-!
 
SEAN SPICER: Hold my beer.

You'll probably want to start with coming up with a logo which makes the 'i' really obvious or they'll think you're selling houses.

Which is certainly a major reason any number of people didn't vote for him.
 
Unfortunately, sufficient people either thought he'd become 'presidential' or that he'd surround himself with professionals who'd keep him from doing anything too damaging or whatever reason they had for preferring him to an alternative.

Today's bit addition continues... in a way I didn't quite expect at first. Let's hope it works.
 
It turned out the Mall, strike that, the base had a pool. A pretty big one! I don't know which of the big stores had been gutted to make it. I don't know what sort of comment that makes on superhero priorities when we're given a chance to spoil ourselves. All I know is I was grateful. I was way too pissed to just lay in a tub undoing the burns I'd gotten from Body Suit's attacks. Communicator or not, I didn't want to stray too far from the base either at this early stage so I didn't need to hit the ocean. Otherwise, I might just keep going.
 
In our world, it's easy to for the literal and the metaphorical to blur. If someone says I hit the water like a torpedo, well, you know they might be right on the money with that. The Sailfish can swim at roughly 68 miles per hour. Can I beat that? Oh yes. I double it, with effort, though I cant keep that speed up forever.. 200 meters swims in 10 seconds or less? Done and without a sweat.
 
Moving through the water, if you're doing it right, is about smooth movement. Less disruption equals less resistance equals more zip! So for me, the phrase "Don't make waves" is good advice both metaphorically, and yep, literally. 
 
That said, i was busting the water hard! I had the pool to myself, and I didn't just pick up speed, I was slamming when I reversed to send waves of water up and out of the pool! Like I said, I was in a bad mood.
 
I got all about of fifteen seconds to repeatedly say my handle was Eel to those reporters before they moved on for other parts of the story, and it wasn't hard to guess what they'd do with that footage. They'd cut it, slice it, and ignore it. Because my preferences weren't a story, but 'Fish Guy' would be hilarious and be sure to get all the hits they'd ever want. So, Arctic Fox wanted me gone. Valorous had played me after convincing me he was a great guy. And the new media, social media, would have a field day. My burns had healed but my ego was bruised.
 
I let another fifteen foot wave crest over the edge.
 
"What the..." I lost track of exactly what expletives followed after that. There was a lot of sputtering mixed in. I didn't realize someone had come in. 
 
I leaped up easily out of the pool and onto the ledge to see who had joined me, and make sure they were okay. 
 
"Hey, Genius," Pinprick's gripe answered the question, "You want to keep some of the water in the pool?"
 
The action figure sized archer was knocked on his ass and soaked from tiny head to really tiny toes. He was a six inch tall man sitting in two inches of water, and yeah, I felt a little petty.
 
"Serves you right," I muttered.
 
"You got a beef with me, Eel?" He rose up.
 
"Oh, now it's Eel," I snorted, "You started the Fish Guy gag. And now its all over the news."
 
He nodded, "I see what you're saying," he glanced up at me after seeming to mull it over, "And it's bullcrap."
 
I scowled but he went on.
 
"I didn't tell a reporter jack about you, that was Valorous and you know it. And you know damn well your power set invites certain slang. Tell me that was the first time you've been called Fish Guy. Tell me I ever called you that in front of someone that wasn't in the business?"
 
"Fine, sorry I lost my temper. I just... " I shook my head. He was right, "It's just, going to be all over the news."
 
"Most likely," He answered flatly.
 
"I'm going to be a joke on the internet," I realized I was whining, "some 'ha ha funny' meme."
 
"On parts of it, yeah," He nodded, "Probably do one of those little auto tune mash ups and make a musical out of it. You know, some of those clowns are really inventive."
 
"That's for the sympathy, asshat," My dander was rising up again.
 
"Let's get it over with," Pinprick sighed, and shot me.
 
Yeah, shot me. In one smooth motion he drew an arrow and fired. I would have thought the bow string would be too wet to use, but I guess magic bows don't work like that. There was a stabbing sensation and then the world engulfed me.  One moment I was on the edge of the pool, the next I might as well been near a chasm overlooking a lake. 
 
I strode up to him, "What the hell, man? What, are we really having the superhero fight thing? Because that's the most juvenile idea you could possibly have. I'm angry, but I'm not socially dysfunctional!"
 
To my surprise, he put the bow away, "Nah. I mean, if you want to, we can go a round or two. Won't lie, when I shrink folks, they usually diminish in strength and in other ways too. My option, and hey, you wouldn't be the first guy in tights to want to take a swing at a team mate so yeah. I hedged my bet."
 
I stared at him for a moment, "Then why? Is it funny for you? or..." 
 
"Look around," He gestured, "At everything."
 
And I did. If the pool looked huge before, now it was indeed a veritable lake. The chairs in the place were out of reach . The exit out of the room made me feel like a Dwarf out of the Lord of the Rings exploring his old homeland. 
 
"Geez, how do you even get anywhere at this size?" The sense of scale was really settling in.
 
"I got arrows of other types too, all magical, but multi-purpose," Pinprick told me, "Arrows that that send gossamer threads I can use like swinglines. Arrows that put people to sleep. I even have an arrow that can cause someone to be smitten ala cupid, but that's got a whole 'roofie' vibe to it and it makes me uncomfortable so  I only use it when I have to. Superhero archers are really pretty awesome," He shrugged, " Also I climb onto shoulders or the like and hitch rides."
 
"Look, if you want an apology for my snapping at you unfairly, you've got it," I said putting my hand behind my neck and trying to rub my tension out, "You're right. It was Valorous, but you were here and I guess I tried to take it out on you."
 
"I don't want your apology," Pinprick said, "I want you to think on what things are like at this height. How do you think folks will treat you?"
 
"I probably look pretty damn silly right now," I admitted.
 
"And how do you think most folks would respond to you at this size, not Eel, not Fish guy... just regular you out of costume and in your civvies but shrunk."
 
"I guess they'd freak out a little," I said, "I mean, it be like running into a leprechaun for real or something."
 
"And after they were done freaking out?" The little man pressed.
 
"I guess they'd point and laugh. Like I said, silly, and .." Something began to dawn on me, "You're saying as hard as I think I have it, you've got it worse," I frowned.
 
Pinprick sighed and put a hand on my shoulder, "No, dummy. this isn't the 'Everyone has someone else worse off than them' speech. This is the 'Why do you care what the petty hearted and narrow minded of the world think of you?' speech. Christ on a crutch, you piss me off a little, you know that?"
 
"I piss you off?" I said taken aback.
 
"Yeah, you do," He answered, "Do you really think so gawdamn little of us even after such a short time that you think we're going to kick you out because it might embarrass us that you got a crappy nick name? You know, if you want to trash me, I'm down with that because I really am a jerk sometimes. But you're getting close to talking trash about Lady O, and if you cross that line we really will have that superhero on superhero fight .Then she'll give me that lecture on how she can take care of her own damn self, and how I should know better. And I'll nod , quip a little, and do it again if need be. It's a system that works. But that's not the only reason you're pissing me off here."
 
"You really respect the hell out of her," I said, "Not that I'm surprised, she's a heck of a lady."
 
"You have no idea," Pinprick said, "You really think other teams were putting out fliers  for permanently shrunken super heroes with gag arrows? Do you really think most were willing to give me a chance? Lady O has more class in her belly button than most people have in their whole body, and she doesn't care that I look ridiculous. She doesn't care...much, that I cop an attitude. You know what she cares about?"
"True, Justice, and the African American way?" I tried to lighten the mood, this was getting kind of tense.
 
"Funny," He said in a tone that indicated otherwise, "She cares that I care. She cares that I use my gifts to save the asses of complete strangers, even ones that treat my condition like a punch-line. She cares, not only that I can get the job done, but that I actually want the job at all. Guy, we saw what you did today in your first fight. You took hits rather than unleashed your full power because it might have hurt innocents. Someone shot flames, which obviously do not agree with you, and you stood in the fire like the a crappy MMORPG player to make sure no one else got burned. You saved lives, beat the bad guys, and worked with us. And you think Lady O, I, and the rest of the team actually give two CRAPS about what folks call you?"
 
My mouth opened but words escaped me.
 
"You're a good kid, Fish Guy," He told me, "But you need to grow up," he snapped his fingers, and I did. Grow up that is. There was a sudden lurch and I was right sized again.
 
It took me a moment to re-orient, and when I did I saw him walking towards the door, "And if some reporters start calling after you by anything but Eel, ignore their asses. You're not a dog- you don't have to come when called the right name, let along the wrong one. They're reporters. They want interviews. They want your attention. They need you, you don't need them. Come on," He motioned, "Let's go watch the news...it'll be brutal, but you might find there might be things more important going on than you having a funny nickname."
 
And he turned the corner.
 
What just happened? I wondered. I mean, I knew what just happened, but still, what just happened? I shook my head. Whatever just happened, I think I needed to hear it, "Coming." 
 
And I followed. 

Hmmm, if you give the dragons more money they don't destroy your village, eat your livestock, and demand your maidens conveniently delivered in chains.
 
However, they expect a continual stream of wealth which will force you to exploit ever more of your village's resources -- which results in an increased demand for labor.
 
In the short term.
 
Eventually you begin to deplete your exploitable resources, which in no way changes the dragons expectations, forcing you to find ways of cutting your costs (labor being a favored target) to continue meeting the dragons demands.
 
The question becomes whether you run out of resources or your labor pool collapses.
 
On the plus side, by this time you're too scrawny to bother eating -- unless the dragons insist on maximizing their resource utilization before moving on to fresher territory.

Hmmm, if you give the dragons more money they don't destroy your village, eat your livestock, and demand your maidens conveniently delivered in chains.
 
However, they expect a continual stream of wealth which will force you to exploit ever more of your village's resources -- which results in an increased demand for labor.
 
In the short term.
 
Eventually you begin to deplete your exploitable resources, which in no way changes the dragons expectations, forcing you to find ways of cutting your costs (labor being a favored target) to continue meeting the dragons demands.
 
The question becomes whether you run out of resources or your labor pool collapses.
 
On the plus side, by this time you're too scrawny to bother eating -- unless the dragons insist on maximizing their resource utilization before moving on to fresher territory.

Hmmm, if you give the dragons more money they don't destroy your village, eat your livestock, and demand your maidens conveniently delivered in chains.
 
However, they expect a continual stream of wealth which will force you to exploit ever more of your village's resources -- which results in an increased demand for labor.
 
In the short term.
 
Eventually you begin to deplete your exploitable resources, which in no way changes the dragons expectations, forcing you to find ways of cutting your costs (labor being a favored target) to continue meeting the dragons demands.
 
The question becomes whether you run out of resources or your labor pool collapses.
 
On the plus side, by this time you're too scrawny to bother eating -- unless the dragons insist on maximizing their resource utilization before moving on to fresher territory.

Last I read it looked like he was agreeing with the idea that he was actually referencing a recent Fox News piece that was attempting to tie an increase in crime/violence to immigrants and misspoke.
 
(The scarier idea here being that he's still apparently taking his 'real' security briefings from whatever he watches on cable tv rather than the Country's security/intelligence agencies.)

My 'worst' case scenario with Trump used to be his starting a war with an errant tweet during one of his 3am rants.
 
Now I'm considering the possibility of his actually starting a war with a direct military action.  Probably due to an ill-considered or poorly thought-out order, but still...
 
As a rule, my 'worst' case scenarios usually don't come to pass but I still strongly suspect I will be quite relieved when Trump's presidency is referred to in the past-tense.  (How I feel about POTUS46 is yet to be determined).
 
(Note: 'worst' is used to denote scenarios which do not indulge in letting my inner-GM loose to create situations which only the PCs are capable of thwarting in an epic session involving lots of dice.)

http://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-38787241
 
Trump puts Bannon on security council, dropping joint chiefs
 
Trump is certainly entitled to appoint his advisors wherever he feels they will do him the most good, but I'm having a hard time seeing how the DNI or the Joint Chiefs aren't considered necessary high-level participants in National security discussions.

http://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-38787241
 
Trump puts Bannon on security council, dropping joint chiefs
 
Trump is certainly entitled to appoint his advisors wherever he feels they will do him the most good, but I'm having a hard time seeing how the DNI or the Joint Chiefs aren't considered necessary high-level participants in National security discussions.

THough to be fair, that is pretty much a requirement to get a gig in politics.

Her power set apparently includes "Alternative Facts": 2d6 Mind Control, incantations throughout, only to convince of truth for obvious falsehoods, Side effect (2d6 PRE drain if does not achieve +20).

True, but their statutes are often found to be unconstitutional and subsequently struck down.

My sister Mary is a Lutheran pastor with three teenage children. I actually asked about this very thing a year ago when the campaign started and before Trumpism was a thing. I expressed my fear of what my generation was leaving my nieces and nephew. Part of her response was a quote by mystery writer and Anglican apologist Dorothy Sayer, written during World War II (a pretty dark time to be British:):
 
:  "A man told me the other day:  'I have a little boy of a year old.  When the war broke out, I was very much distressed about him because I found I was taking it for granted that life ought to be better and easier for him than it had been for my generation.  Then I realized that I had no right to take this for granted at all--that the fight between good and evil must be the same for him as it had always been, and then I ceased to feel so much distressed.'"

when a Monster (or Supervillian) really NEEDS to be shot...  
 
http://www.thefirearmblog.com/blog/2016/12/06/truvelo-cms-20x42mm-anti-materiel-rifle/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+TheFirearmBlog+%28The+Firearm+Blog%29
 
 
great weapon for the low level brick...