Tjack

That ranks right up there with, "What could possibly go wrong?"

Superheroes lives abound in coincidence. I'm gonna embrace that
 
Mom talked my ear off when I called my folks the other night. I think it must have been twenty minutes on my aunts and uncles alone, before we moved on to her and dad. I was surprised to find mom and dad were using the internet to watch Costa Sagrado news!
 
No, I wasn't surprised they were interested. They're my parents. I was surprised they managed to do it without calling me. I like to joke that dad's favorite feature about his computer set up was the cupholder. Then again, I do have siblings. Maybe one of them is now tech support?
 
My mother had a few words about that lady on Channel 3, and were she not a woman of faith and propriety, she would have had more to say. It would seem the story of my saving a post office was in the newsfeed, and the mailman on mom and dad's street had commented on it positively. I wondered just how many folks in my old stomping ground were keeping track of me. I had been my hometown's only superhero, though I was hardly the only one in the state.
 
And yes, she wanted me to stay safe and had the routine questions. Did I have an apartment of my own yet? No, but I could stay at the base for a bit, and hoped to have one soon.  Would I go back to college? Probably not. Were the other heroes nice to me? Mostly. Had I made friends? Yeah. Had I found a nice girl? No, mom. You don't just dive in and fish one out of the water, not even in California.
 
Though if the really wanted to help their tourism industry that would be a hell of a marketing lure.
 
The next morning, I arose to find out I was off the hook, at least for now. Dr. Vernon had an old friend visiting the city, some mystic lady she knew from way back when. Frankly, mystics give me the creeps. I don't mean powered by or changed by magic like Pinprick claimed to be. I mean the guys who study it and harness what appear to be real spells. What are they calling on? What's with all the vanishing acts they pull at cryptic moments and that look like, 'they could tell you, but then they'd have to wipe your mind or seal your lips with enchantment'? And how is it they wear more bling than a 1970s-movie pimp, walk around in broad daylight, stop a demonic invasion, and 90% of the population doesn't remember a thing about them?  Hello?
 
Like I said, mystics give me the creeps.
 
One other thing I noticed this morning was that I was stiff, with an ache all over. Holding up federal buildings for nearly a full half hour taxed even my super stamina out and today I was paying the price. I considered a hot shower, probably the best thing for me. But immersion is better than soaking, and I wanted room to move. The last time I'd used the pool I had been in a bad mood. Today, today I was feeling pretty good, and I figured, why use a tub when I can have a real swim? I breathe water. It wasn't like I was going to hit a cramp and drown! I recovered better in immersion.
 
The other day, I hit the pool to make waves, today, I dove in from the ledge as smooth as silk, creating barely a ripple. That's probably why the girl walking on the bottom of the pool didn't see me. I hadn't seen her because, well, she was walking along the bottom of the deep end of the pool!
 
I didn't see leg weights, what I saw was a very pretty Hispanic woman, about my age, maybe a bit younger wearing a one-piece swim suit of cyan blue. While not as buxom as Arctic Fox, nor as tall, I still had to remind my eyes to behave themselves. Her dark hair wafted through the water in a crown of shadowy strands, and her eyes were dark chocolate under long lashes.  Her mouth opened in a little O as she saw me, a bubble of air came out, and then suddenly she was rising!
 
It was as if whatever held her down had decided to take a break. Her body regained buoyancy and she rose from the bottom of the pool with little visible effort, looking like an ascending angel with the way the lights on the ceiling caught her.
 
I heard her take in a sudden rush of air above me, and I realized I had startled her. Well, she had startled me too, but she was in the pool first. The right thing to do, I thought, was apologize.
 
An idea, boyish and immature entered my brain. It was a touch juvenile, a bit arrogant, and completely irresponsible.
 
I did it anyway.
 
I shot up from the pool floor with the speed of a sailfish, breached the surface like I was a dolphin, flipped myself end over end, a good twenty feet over her head letting the momentum carry me to the side of the pool where I twisted to land with one leg out to the side, the other underneath me, and a fist firmly planted to hold me up with the other hand out to the other side.
 
Why do superheroes do three point landings?
 
Because, done right, it is awesome!
 
"Wow," escaped the woman's mouth, one second too soon, she covered it, and a blush bronzed her cheeks further. Her legs were paddling now to keep her head up, and maybe it was me being hopeful, but I swore the toes of her feet were slightly curled right now. Immediately those gorgeous eyes narrowed but she couldn't quite mask her smile, "You always leave the pool that way?"
 
"Only for our most honored guests," I smiled back, and darn it, a slight blush creeped into me as well. I mean, I had just showed off for a girl I didn't even know, but darn if it hadn't been fun.
 
"Uh huh," She slid up to the pool's edge, "So you're the Fish Guy."
 
I groaned, and all the braggadocio just leaked right out of me as my ego was promptly deflated by that phrase, "It's Eel, actually."
 
A wicked bit of a smile escaped her this time, a brilliant flash of teeth for just a moment, and then she eased herself up and out of the pool gracefully, leaving her feet in it as she twisted her head to look over at me, "I know it is. Pinprick said he'd give me fifteen bucks if I called you that if I met you. I wasn't going to, but after that display, I think your pride will survive."
 
"Just trying to impress a pretty girl," I admitted, "Wait, he offered you fifteen bucks?"
"Uh huh," She nodded, "He's kind of a jerk like that sometimes."
 
I sat down next to her, "I noticed, good guy though."
 
"Yeah," She tilted her head still looking at me, "Nice costume."
 
"Yours too," I said gesturing to the lovely one piece.
 
She rolled her eyes, but could not banish her smiles, "You are not what I expected from my Uncle' Tino's description."
 
"Uncle?" I paused, "Wait, you mean you're Valentino's 'little niece'?"
 
"I'm not short," She raised a brow, "Five foot one is not short. I am… vertically petite."
 
I failed to contain my own smile this time, "Not what I mean, ah, it's just he doesn't seem much older than you."
 
"He's not," She shrugged and some loose wet hair behind her ear, "A hand full of years. I'm twenty. You?"
 
"Twenty-two," I said, "And as I'm pretty sure its rude of me to call you Valentino's niece or 'hey you' so…" I let the unformed question hang there.
 
"Ariana," She took my hand and shook it, "Nice to meet you, Eel."
 
"Very nice to meet you, Ariana" I said, "How's your uncle? Any change from last night?"
 
"Yeah, his mama asked if I'd stick around for the night. He's doing fine now, so I thought I'd hit the pool," She confessed then, "It's nice if you can get one this big to yourself."
 
I winced, "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't realize you wanted to be alone and…"
 
"Oh, no, no," She assured me, "that's so not what I meant. It's just the public ones are crowded and expensive, you know? And with college stressing me out, it's nice to have room to do a few laps. I don't mind being with people, but I'm not crazy about crowds. That's all."
 
"I can understand that," And I did, "One nice thing about the ocean, while you're never really alone with all the life and wonder out there, at the same time there is this amazing distance and sense of solitude. It's surreal really when you go out far enough."
 
Ariana looked wistful at that, "I'd like to see that sometime."
 
"I'll take you," I offered with a shrug, "if you want."
 
"You would?" She raised a brow.
 
"Yeah, wet suit and such would be need for you, and a tank, but I'm sure this base has something like that, and I swim really fast and carry you right out into the ocean, no problem. I need to get used to the Pacific anyway. I've only been in the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic," I could think of worse fates than playing tour guide to a lovely young woman and maybe checking out seals or coral together.
 
"I…" She rose slowly, "Would like that," And began to walk towards the exit, glancing back at me as she did, "Let me think about it? Sorry, I have to go. College project I can't put off forever, and the other thing."
 
"The other thing?" I couldn't help but ask.
 
She flashed a big smile at me, "I have to get fifteen dollars from Pinprick."
 
I touched my chest, wounded anew, "Ow."
 
She laughed lightly, "Sorry, couldn't help it," She made a few more steps, slipped out, then her head bobbed back into view, "You really don't mind taking me to the ocean and playing tour guide/body guard?"
 
"I really don't," I assured her confidently, "Don't worry, there's nothing in the Ocean I can't handle."

In which a team mate falls into a trap!
 
A dream like that is not the most pleasant way to wake up. The surreal images were still in my head, and were fading slower than I'd like. I tried not to make much of it. Clearly the combo of a shrimp dinner and all this Fish Guy/Atlantis talk had set my subconscious into creative overdrive. I suppose if I were a telepath or otherwise psychically sensitive, I'd be worried. That, however, is not one of my gifts, and frankly I'm glad. Too many  with mental powers end up with mental problems. If you can't filter things out, folks avoid you because you're constantly if involuntarily spying on them and you probably get access to some pretty ugly stuff that might destroy your faith in humanity. And if you filter it out, people still worry.
 
No thank you, I'll stick to bullet proof and super strong; that people understand. I hit the shower a few minutes, letting the cascade of water refresh and restore me. A thought occurred to me.
 
"Mabel?" I called out curiously.
 
"mmm my, what charming flanks on this particular bit of marine life," A voice purred in the bathroom.
 
"Mabel!" I said again, and grabbed my towel and wrapping it around my lower half hastily, "You're in here?"
 
"Eel, you did call me?" She reminded.
 
"Yes," I said, "Yes I did, I got curious," I blushed, "People are okay with you having access to the bathrooms?"
 
"Oh I get curious too. Very curious about the biological condition for example," There was a very throaty chuckle and then, "First. I don't hear you so much as you saying my name triggers a device in the bathrom that then allows me to interact. In case of emergency. Secondly,  to my disappointment, and perhaps your relief, shy thing; I don't have visual in there. I hear you, and that's all."
 
I was blushing furiously, which was ridiculous, "Oh," I centered myself, "And the bedroom?"
 
"Same thing, but I can beep or hit an alert to let you know to call out to me as they're probably news. I can scream from the hallways or send one of the cleaning bots to wham against your door until you finally pay attention to me," I could almost imagine a woman shrugging, "What girl likes being ignored?"
 
"I can't picture anybody ignoring you," I admitted.
 
"Awwww, that's sweet. Now, just for future reference, you'll see in almost every room at least one small panel, no bigger than a light switch with a tiny light on it? That's another way to contact me, but also gives you a code for what the status of the base is. Green means all is go, walk around without your mask if you want. Blue means we a non- team guest who is trusted by one of us, so you decide if you trust them too, page for more info etc. Yellow means we have a guest who is in but none of us fully trust, or a situation is arising that may go very badly. Be ready. And red...."
 
"It's hit the fan so get my costumed butt out there and get ready to save the day with the others?" It wasn't a hard guess.
 
"The sir is quick," She said pleased, "Anything else I can help you with while we're talking?"
 
Actually, a lot of questions rose to mind about Mabel. Don't get me wrong, I rather liked her voice, and I'd be lying if I didn't say the visuals I imagined of what body might go with a voice like that intrigued. But was she a true artificial intelligence or just incredibly advanced but actually unfeeling? Who made her? It really didn't seem like the sort of personality Lady O would program. So what was the story there?
 
I also had no idea how to bring up a questions like 'Are you a real person or just a model?' without sounding like a complete ass. So instead, I got dressed in my costume, because a blue light was on and asked, "Whose guest is here?"
 
"Pinprick," She answered, "His room is close to yours so you might meet his very special visitor." Mabel sounded amused by something.
 
"And I kind of crashed on night patrols last night, do we shifts or something?" Patrols are not really that effective at fighting crime directly if you're just randomly running around.  However, it has been known to reduce crime in area if superheroes are seen patrolling. That's why for every 'dark avenger of the night' who you never see, there are usually two garishly garbed heroes who fly over head trailing light or something. 
 
Now, for real comedy, one has to turn to the stories of those break and enter criminals who hammered their way into a house unaware it belonged a to a 'dark avenger of the night'. If said DAN has any detective skills at all, those poor jerks are in for the worst twenty four hours of their lives, I don't care if they only stole a TV set and that spare bag of pork rinds. Of course, it's also possible said dark avenger has wired the house with more traps along one door that Copperhead Road has along its entire length.
 
"Well, the doctor has a suggestion list of where and crimes peak in the city but each New Samaritan sets his or her own patrol path at their own discretion. You can access it directly from the network interfaces here, or just ask me and I'll give you the skinny," Mabel answered in her way, "After 3 AM even most of the scum are hitting the hay, but it builds again through out the day. As you're new, there will be someone playing tour guide to you on some of your first patrols still. How busy will you be today?"
 
"I need to hunt for an apartment and job, I guess," I sighed wistfully. This place would be so great, but if the grand dame of the city superheroes tells you not to lose your contact with the people of the city, she's probably right, "The job? Well, depends on what I can get. Maybe something flexible hourwise would be best. Less chance of getting fired for rushing off to save the day. I can postpone the hunt for either I suppose."
 
"Why don't you take a daytime patrol with Tornado after breakfast?" She suggested, "A nice young Southern gentleman like yourself should start with the easy stuff like bankrobbers and streetgangs before meeting the really scary threats."
 
"Like Californian supervillains?" I raised a brow about to remind her that with the Miscreants now under my belt, I'd done that.
 
"Like the cost of California rent," I could almost hear the smirk.
 
 
 
It turned out I was actually pretty close to Pinprick's room. I wasn't going to pry, but the door was slightly cracked open and I heard voices. One was Pinprick's, the other? 
 
"You have to save the girl," the young voice insisted, "It's what heroes do."
 
"I took out the bad guy," Pinprick responded, "She looks safe up there. So she waits awhile, big whoop."
 
Okay, after the worry about Mabel spying on me, I realized even as I did it what a total hypocrite I was being by peeking in but hey, I was a solo hero. What most call snooping, we call 'proactive patrol'. 
 
Within the room, I could see furniture had been co-opted, cushions from a couch were stacked like building blocks, and action figures were everywhere. Note, I said action figures, not dolls. No doubt the distinction would be very important to the boy who was moving them around and positioning them with dedication of a movie director of a high octane action thriller!  On the top of one cushion was a female action figure ,I didn't recognize the franchise. 
 
Below was an overly muscled blue action figure with a perpetual look of rage. He had a tiny arrow sticking in him, and was downed. It was clear he had been defeated by the mighty Pinprick, hero of Sofa City.
 
"Dad," the boy said with all the frustration of said director dealing with a prima donna star who wanted to change his lines willy nilly, "She could fall."
 
"Looks stable," He said after another glance, "As long as we don't knock it over."
 
"She might need to go to the bathroom," the sandy haired boy wheedled.
 
"She should have gone before she got kidnapped," Pinprick countered.
 
"Daaaaaad," The boy said in that tone of vexation.
 
"Fine, fine," An arrow was launched, and trailing to it was indeed a gossamer thread that caught the room light just so. As if by magic, which I guess it was, the strand seemed to almost float Pinprick to the couch cushion's highest point, "What now? I get her down she gives me a kiss or something?"
 
The boy made a face, "Don't be weird, dad."
 
It would appear this was not one of those action movies with tacked on romantic plot.
 
I snickered. I couldn't help myself. And Pinprick heard me. His eyes fixed on me, and he made a warning gesture, making a 'zip lips' motion, then follow it up with a quick thumb across his throat motion, finally followed by two fingers going to his eyes then pointing at mine.
 
I'm fairly bright. 'You tell anyone and you die, I'm watching you'  doesn't exactly require an understanding of American Sign Language.
 
However while he missed me, the boy did notice his father's gestures, "Dad, what are you...." He turned to see me, and looked at his action figures, and then back up at me, as if ready for whatever judgement I was about to bring down, "uhm, hi?"
 
"Hi," I observed from the door, "Cool set up. Is this really the end of the scene?"
 
The boy's eyes brightened, "Nah! See, that's when the hero gets tricked and it turns out it was all just a disguise to lure him here to his dooooom," He pulled out another figure, some sort of winged woman with a pretty evil look, then the boy confided, "He'd defeat her, but only after escaping from her death trap."
 
"Glen," Pinprick said his son's name with irritation, "The only reason I came up here was because you hounded me to do it."
 
"Yeah, but if this is real you would have done it," Glen countered, "Because you're a hero, and heroes do the right thing even if it gets them hurt. "
 
"What idiot told you that?" Pinprick snorted.
 
Glen blinked at him, "You did, the last time you got wounded."
 
I can take a blow from a crow bar wielded by a dock worker, and I still think I hurt myself a little holding my laughter in at the look on Pinprick's face.
 
"I don't remember that," He crossed his arms, and then, perhaps to change the subject, "Glen, this is our newest member, Eel. Eel, this is my son, Glen. I got him for the day so we were... hanging out."
 
"I saw on the TV," Glen grinned as I was introduced, "You're strong!"
 
"Thanks," I said, "A pretty common power."
 
"Yeah, but you also go into the ocean...." Glen said enthused, "And that means you must be super tough, I mean, you can go down really deep right?"
 
"Yeah," I said, surprised the kid was making the connection, "You learned about ocean depths in school?"
 
"Some," He agreed, "Oceans are cool. The pressure down below can buckle steel, and you can go down there? Awesome."
 
"It's not that awesome," Pinprick muttered.
 
"Come on, dad! You only protect 1/3rd of the planet, he protects two thirds of it because most of the world is ocean! That's why ocean heroes might even be cooler than archers."
 
"He protected North Carolina, then flew over here," Pinprick explained irritably, "And since when aren't archers your favorite?"
 
"Since Mrs. Mackabe told us about oceans," The boy said, "But I can like archers too."
 
"My tax dollars working against me," The Lilliputian archer muttered.
 
"To be fair, your dad has a point," I said, "I'm the Rookie here, and I haven't protected that large an area, but I'm working on it. With his help."
 
Did I imagine it or did Pinprick shoot me a surprised but grateful look?  I wasn't sure why. I hadn't done much.
 
"Cool," The boy said now beaming at his dad again, "Yeah, dad can show you the ropes."
 
"Well, I better let you get back to ambushing your father, "I told Glen, "It it was good to meet you."
 
"You too!" The boy said, and then turned back to his harpy whats it, saying in a overdone shriek of a woman's voice, "Foolish hero, you have fallen into my trap as I knew you would ! mwhahaha!" then Glen spoke normally again, "And then she knocks you out."
 
"Don't I get a saving throw or something?" Pinprick grumbled.
 
"What's a saving throw?" His son inquired.
 
"A term's that's making daddy feel very very old and far less cool than he wants to be the more he thinks about it..." was the last thing I heard as I slipped out of the room so I could finally chuckle safely.

Every world needs their evil organizations, so here's the next part where...well, you'll see.
 
 
"Tornado, Eel," Lady Obsidian's voice popped through the coms, "G.O.A.T. is on the loose near Claremont Park, everyone else, myself included, is…" I thought I heard the sound of thunder, "occupied. We can handle ours, but you two need to get to Claremont Park, now."
 
"No time to call the hover car then," Tornado observed then directed, "Spread your arms, we're about to get friendly."
 
"Like this?" I said spreading out into a sort of a T shape. As soon as I did so, Tornado hooked his arms under my own and lifted me into the air. I suppose I should be grateful. There are other, more undignified ways, to be hauled about. Frankly, this would be murder on the pits for another guy, but my physical limits can handle ocean depths and bullets. I can handle the under arm wedgie.
 
"Whoa…" I said as we streaked off. Despite this position being the opposite of aerodynamic, we were really moving! While super strength wasn't his power, Tornado was an athlete and a hand to hand fighter, and if he was straining to carry me about like this, I didn't hear a peep of complaint. Then again, there was very little worth joking about right now.
 
"I had heard GOAT was more organized here," I said glad for the com because as fast as we were going, I'm sure my voice was twenty feet behind me as soon as I said anything, "They're not so big in the North Carolina."
 
"You guys are lucky, here the Generous Obstacles to American Terrorism are thriving," he said their full name with disgust.
 
G.O.A.T. is one twisted organization. Yet more proof that bad people will take perfectly legitimate concerns to dark-dark places. No one knows who started it, but it's mission statement is that they wish to end American military and economic aggression abroad. That we are not supposed to be the world police and not only do we spread chaos to other nations in our attempts to do so, we cheat and starve our own as we neglect the many problems here and we need to look inward. Hardly the most offensive ideology I've heard even if, personally, I think it is simplistic.
 
The problem is their means. G.O.A.T. commits domestic terrorism hoping to force national and state governments to forget about other countries, and turn more military resources inward. Members of G.O.A.T. didn't just choose their name because it's a short easy to handle acronym. They see themselves as willing sacrifices. They will go to jail, or even die, in their efforts to make Uncle Sam pay attention to the problems within its own borders. Even if they must become the problem to make it happen.
 
Naturally, G.O.A.T. hates superheroes with a passion. When one superhero can take down a squad of their blaster carrying zealots, well, it means that we're both reducing the damage they hope to cause, and taking them on instead of police and militias. One member of G.O.A.T. declared superheroes to be "Traitors to American Peace."
 
Yes, he really said that, without any grasp of irony or hypocrisy.
 
We came upon Claremont Park, which had dozens of G.O.A.T. Troopers, blaster rifles in hand, and those helmets with a goat head charging in the colors of red, white, and blue. Remember, a lot of these whack jobs believe they're being cruel to be kind to America. While every member had his own reasons for doing what he did, the official stand by G.O.A.T. is that they're the only real patriots left in America.
 
Whoever was funding the organization did not skimp. SWAT uniforms are frailer than the gear handed out to the lowliest G.O.A.T. goon. It's not powered armor or exo-suits (Thank goodness) but the point is, they would have conventional law enforcement out geared and out gunned.
 
Speaking of guns…
 
"Is that a pulse cannon?" I blinked at the cutting edge siege weapon four of them were positioning. A huge blast shot from it, and a burst of energy released! We were too late!
 
Fortunately, they hadn't calibrated the angles right. What should have devastated a federal building instead grazed it, but even that caused a fissure along its side.
 
"Yeah, you say you're tough?" Tornado had also winced at the near destruction of the place, "Tough enough to smash through a pulse cannon?" His hands were shifting, grabbing one leg and  I realized what he was planning.
 
I stiffened, made fists, and braced, "It'll break before I do." I promised. Actually I wasn't sure of what this model was composed of, or if it had unseen energy field tech. It's possible it would break me even as I broke it, but given how many people were probably in that building it was already charging up for another blast at?
 
Well, in the hero game we call that an even trade.
 
"Via Con Dios," I thought I heard Tornado say as he picked up speed, and then released me before arcing up in a perfect right angle high into the sky!
 
My own motion wasn't going to be as pretty! The sheer velocity behind me meant I wasn't in danger of hitting ground first. Tornado knew his stuff. But the weapon before me, already the size of a pickup truck, expanded as it filled my vision. I had closed on it faster than you can say ….
 
Boom.
 
Metal shredded, wires popped and torn lose lashing at my skin! The impact rattled my teeth. It was like the belly buster from hell off a high dive, only with artillery sized death ray rather than a pool's surface to cause it. It was indeed tough, but I was tougher and my earlier boast proved not to be empty.
It broke. I didn't.
 
It took me a moment to clear my eyes; the groan came instantly. The mangled remnants of the Pulse Canon were fifteen feet away, and the scattered crew that had been manning it were out cold, though I didn't see any injuries. Their uniforms must have shielded them from the shrapnel.
 
In the meantime, Tornado was kicking ass! He wasn't the fastest speedster, I'd been told that. Well, a sports car isn't as fast as a plane, buy you still don't want one running into you. More than that, he was a skilled hand to hand fighter!  Flight gave him a lot of free reign to used circle and crescent kicks at angles folks weren't used to defending against, and he used them like Bruce Lee's Latino love child! Even the armor the G.O.A.T. goons were sporting only protected them so much.
Tornado dodged a burst of blaster fire from one guy, weaving between the individual rays of it, closed, and struck the visor of said gun man with an open palm, shattering the visor and knocking the guy into la la land. Another G.O.A.T lobbed a grenade at him, despite the fact his compatriot was right there only six or so feet below the heroes' feet.
 
"Tornado, grenade!" I called out.
 
I didn't know if he heard me or just noticed on his own but he whirled in a circle, caught the grenade in one hand as smoothly as you please, and then threw it high into the air where it exploded doing no harm to anyone.
 
I was not about to leave all the fun to him. Another squad of goons, realizing their pulse cannon was destroyed, decided to complete the mission without it and went charging towards the Federal building that was grazed earlier.
 
 I do not run at super speed, but I was faster than them. I snagged one by the scruff of his collar and body slammed him down hard. That was all it took and he was out of the fight. I looked at the other four, "My name's Eel. Throw your guns down, on your knees, hands behind your backs!"
 
No reasoning with fanatics, they all pointed their weapons at me, and one of them yelled, "For a Peaceful America!" And they blasted me!
 
I waded in, teeth gritting. I won't lie and say it didn't hurt. It stung like hell. There's weren't bullets I could just shrug off, this were concentrated weapons of force that hit with far more pressure, and despite their plans suddenly having two costumed monkey wrenches thrown into their works, the G.O.A.T. troopers were still fairly coordinated. They were aiming for what should be my vulnerable parts… eyes and head, joints… my groin.
 
So yes, it stung.
 
I grabbed one riffle and just broke it right in front of the guy, the steel of it warping under my grip. Out of the corner of I could see some of the Troopers had popped smoke hoping to get an edge on Tornado. He just did that swirly arm thing speedsters do and blew the smoke away, then raced by each one with multiple strikes that left each nutbar reeling.
 
"I hope we're not keeping score," I admitted in the com as I kicked a G.O.A.T. Trooper in his ass, launching him against a nearby tree, "Because if we are, I am way behind."
 
I could hear Tornado's grin over the line, "You're forgetting the four at the pulse cannon, Eel," He reminded as he redirected one charging agent into the path of another zealot causing the two to collide with a painful thunk.
 
"Oh yeah," I said, "Thanks, I feel better!" I brought an elbow against the chest of the one trying to climb my back and use some sort of high tech vibrating knife.
 
Who knows? It might have hurt me, but not with him having a possible broken rib and all. While he contemplated his life choices, I moved onto the last one.
 
"Oh course," Tornado continued, "Now that you mention keeping score…"  The blue blur that was Tornado shot up to my last foe, grabbed him in some sort of wrist lock, then whirled him around and around multiple times before sending him crashing into another guy a full fifteen feet away. Before I could even curse my surprise, Tornado followed that path himself, went over the unconscious duo, and found another set of two which he simultaneously clotheslined! They went down gasping.
 
"Oh come…" I started to protest even as he dodged another shot ducking under it, closed with yet another fellow, and disarmed the man before knocking him out with his own rifle…. "On." I finished lamely, "Save a few for me?"
 
Only one G.O.A.T. guy was left, running away without any rifle I could see, "You want him or shall I…" I figured it would take me longer but…
 
The normally playful Tornado's eyes widened, "He's not running away!"
 
Only then did I realize in looking for the rifle, I'd missed the grenade the G.O.A.T. was carrying! More than one actually, and he wasn't going to throw them, he'd already pulled the…
 
Tornado struck before the grenades did. One moment he was near me, the next he was a streak of motion veering to the G.O.A.T.'s side and knocking him away from the building… and more. He gave a  super speed SHOVE to the guy, and I realized not only was he trying to keep the grenades from exploding near the building, he was hoping to push the terrorist far enough on the other side to save the man from his own grenades.
 
It was not a complete success, the grenades exploded, the goon was about ten feet clear when they did and then got blow another fifteen. Tornado, not an idiot, had tried to peel back but was also thrown, carried by the explosive wave and smacked into the federal building!
 
I was running towards the scene as soon as I realized my oversight, but it all happened so fast I felt like I was moving in molasses.
 
In winter.
 
I know others come first, that superheroes look after even scum ball lives, and that any one of us knows we might die and we respect the others in this calling feel the same. But when I got there, it wasn't the G.O.A.T. trooper I went to. I bent down right over Tornado.
 
"Oh please, Jesus let him be alive," I was babbling, praying, something in between. I removed enough of his costume to check his pulse.
 
"Oh thank God," I said with relief. He was out, deep out, but he wasn't dead! "Okay, fine you win the contest, and you so earned the twins. Don't scare me like.."
That's when I heard the crack.
 
I looked over the building they'd been trying to destroy, "Oh no," I muttered.
 
The slight fissure from the earlier pulse cannon graze was not so slight anymore. While the worst of the explosion had made a crater in the street, enough of the blastwave had added to the minor damage to make it major! That building, was about to fall over.
 
I glanced at some nearby cars, immediately discounting some of the newer hybrid models. Steel. I need steel, preferably grade A Pittsburgh to Detroit piece of Americana that might…
 
"Yes!" I seized the SUV as soon as I found it and flattened it into a more column like shape with one or two good slams before shoving it against the building to slow the fall. Then I ripped out a street lamp pole, and positioned it as well. High and low, got em both.
 
Both would, eventually, bend, break, and that building might come tumbling down. I shot a look at the G.O.A.T. fanatic who had dropped the grenades. Despite what my darker angel told me, I hauled him up over my left shoulder before taking Tornado over my right. A quick leap, and they were clear.
 
"Please tell me you guys are done with whatever you're doing," I said on the Communication line as I turned back to the building and braced against it. I wasn't as well positioned as the car or pole, but I could handle more, a lot more! So  I braced, and held up the four story building with my  gloved hands as best I could!
 
"We've taken out G.O.A.T. but they've damaged a building… four stories, solid brick. It's going down if I can't hold it, and I'm not sure how long I can. There may be innocents in there, Torando is out cold. Please tell me you can hear me!"
 
"We hear you, Tiger… " Mabel assured me, "I'll send the car around to help speed transport of any innocents in the area."
 
"Thanks," I muttered. That was something at least.
 
"Eel, listen to me, I'm still busy, but you've got this," Lady Obsidian told me, "Now, how much do you know about engineering?"
 
"I played with legos as  a kid," I confesed, "And I'm using someone's SUV and a street light as  aids to brace."
 
"Describe the damage of the wall to me, and I will guide you…" She informed me,  "I'm on my way, but just do as I say, and you should be able to hold it long enough to make sure any innocents get out, and then you can let it fall."
 
"I can't let it fall," I said stubbornly.
 
"It's just a building, Eel," Lady Obsidian said, "Just a thing."
 
"It's not just a thing, I don't even know what this building is beyond the fact it's Federal, but it doesn't matter. It's a symbol now at least. They wanted it down, they wanted it broken. If I just give up on it…" I gritted my teeth, "If I let it fall, they win. If they win, they use it to inspire other nutbars.  I'm not walking away from this without trying to stop that from happening. This building's my baby now and you are not taking my baby away from me."
 
There was a pause, "Your baby? Really?"
 
I winced, "Okay, it sounded better in my head… I mean, I got going…good start, then I kind of meandered…. Point is I'm not gonna let It fall, ma'am."
"First things first, we make sure innocents get out and then I'll argue about it… Load bearing 101," she said with calm.
 
And I listened. I answered her questions about the nature of the crack. Had it broken outward or inward, and what the difference meant. Was it really brick, or was the merely the exterior appearance… etc. I answered, listened, and did what I was told to keep that building up.
 
It turned out a total of twenty seven people had been in that building. They had actually huddled in tight against walls when the noises and cracking went, figuring the building would be safe. Mabel got their number, called their office, and calmly explained that the building was trying to tilt over and spill into the street and could they please get out of there?
 
Anyone who says government workers don't know how to hustle did not see the same crew I did, I can tell you that!
 
"Is there anyone else?" I called out after what felt like an eternity of holding the building up, but I knew was only minutes. The light post had broken about two minutes ago, but that SUV remnant was holding in tough.
 
American Made! That's what I'm talking about.
 
I knew it was a silly thought, but those G.O.A.T. psychos had tried to co-opt my country and I'd be damned if I'd let them own patriotism entirely.
"Everyone's out," Mabel said, "You know, tiger, you can let it go now?"
 
"Nope," I said hoping I sounded fresh as a daisy though I suspected I was more akin to ragweed right now, "I'm good. SUV and I have got this. Just two good ole boys keeping it steady."
 
"Oh, Lady Obsidian is going to love this news," Mabel said. She had already picked up Tornado and taken him to the base for healing, well, a mail man had helped put the hero into it. Then again, he seemed as smitten with her voice as any fellow would be so he probably didn't mind at all, because she flirted outrageously with him.
 
Authorities were gathering up the G.O.A.T. members. Talk about Federal, these guys were a mix of military and men in black suits with earwigs, shades and no sense of humor. They gathered up every bit of tech they could find.
 
Reporters watched with their best cameras from a safe distance.
 
So really, the only life in danger was mine.
 
Nope. Not letting this building down, "If you can take it," I told the SUV, "I can take it"
 
That's when the SUV finally gave up the ghost and buckled forcing me to scramble to take on the extra weight.
 
"Oh, come on, man!" I told the SUV, "Represent!"
 
Quitter.
 
I wasn't sure I could handle this anymore. How long had I been holding this up? Were the others still in a fight? Where was Lady Obsidian and…
Suddenly the weight was gone, not reduced, just flat out gone. Something had shoved me away from the wall, but rather than having a building fall on top of me, I turned to find it not only being held by bands of force energy but actually shifted back into proper place.
 
Lady Obsidian had arrived! And she had arrived prepared. Her armor was used photonic energy and force field tech as weapons and tools all the time, but she was also carrying some odd staff with ends that looked a bit like tesla coils. I would find out later that it was a kind of extra battery so she wouldn't tap out of juice despite the huge project. She hadn't arrived alone either.
 
A construction team moved in unafraid.
 
"Are they going to be okay?"
 
"Oh yes, now that everything is in position again, they can replace what's damaged fast and brace it," Lady Obsidian said kindly, "Eel, are you okay? You look dead on your feet."
 
I probably did. I had never used my full strength for so long. Every muscle in my body ached, and it would be worse tomorrow, I could tell. I wiped the sweat from my brow, "I need some rest, but I'm good. Thanks."
 
"Good," And her voice snapped, "Get your stubborn white ass into the hovercar and get back to base. Right now, young man! We will talk later about you valuing a post office building more than you do your own health!"
 
I winced and fell into the back seat of the car so Mabel could take me off. I had saved a Post office?
 
Yay?
 
 
"A real friend wouldn't laugh," I said sourly to Tornado who was laying in the medbay bed.
 
Naturally, he broke out into laughter. It would seem his injuries were pretty minor, bruises really. While not supertough, he had managed to 'ride out' the explosion and smack far better than I thought he would, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he finally stopped, "It's just, we saved a Post office?"
 
"A fancy one," I said defensively, "The mailboxes and nice entrance were on the back side mostly, so it's only natural we didn't notice. Also, turns out that three months ago, it had been a military recruitment center before they found a better place and the city put it work for the mailmen instead."
 
"Ah, so G.O.A.T. may have either been targeting the post office, or more likely, still under the idea it was a symbol of the military," He nodded.
 
"Yeah," I said, "But boy, do I feel dumb. I mean, sure, I needed to hold it up until everyone got out, but after that…" I thought about what I was about to say, then realized it wouldn't be true, "Nope. I guess I still would have denied G.O.A.T. the satisfaction. It was worth it."
 
"Has Lady Obsidian lectured you on this yet?" Valentino inquired.
 
"Not yet, she's been too busy, I think I'm scheduled for it sometime tomorrow," I admitted.
 
"Oh, then you don't really know if it's worth it or not," The speedster countered.
 
I must have made a face, because he laughed again.
 
"Told you someone was slacking in here," Pinprick's voice came from the door at the laugh. I turned to see not just Pinprick, but Glen!
 
I was surprised the kid was still here, but it looked like he had his backpack and was actually ready to go and the boy himself confirmed that as he moved right to the unmasked speedster and said, "Valentino! I'm heading home now back to mom, but dad said I could come in and give you my get well soon card," Glen lowered his voice sotto, "I put it your secret ID name on it instead of your hero id name, so no one would know I knew a hero if it ever got discovered, but now that I think about it, it may now endanger your identity if someone breaks into the base… so if you need to, don't be afraid to burn it." The boy said sagely.
The card in question was a homemade thing, with bright colorful designs with the level of artistry you'd expect from a kid. Which is to say, not much, but with enthusiasm!
 
Valentino looked it with reverence, "Burn it? No way, I'm saving this like a collectible and cashing in years later when you're famous. Don't worry," His own stage whisper, "I'll keep it on lock down until then."
 
Glen looked left, looked right, and gave an exaggerated wink back.
 
"Okay okay, you gave your card, say your good byes and let's get you to your mothers and the Ralph," Pinprick said.
 
"Bye, Valentino, bye Eel! Great work today!" he assured us, "You guys must really like getting your mail on time."
 
"Come on, come on.." Pinprick shooed his son along while we waved to them both.
 
When they were gone I looked back at Valentino who actually was taking care with the card, "You and Pinprick's son seem to get along," I commented.
"Why not?" He grinned, "Great kid, and besides, Pinpirck tolerates my little niece."
 
I chuckled at the image of what some little girl might make of a six inch tall man who might resemble a living doll begging to be sat down for a tea party, "You got family?"
 
"FFfft, I'm Latino man, I don't got family, family's got me… and there's not get out jail free card for that," he assured me, "Heck, my niece will probably show up when my mom does tonight."
 
"Awww, " I grinned, "that's sweet. Sometimes I miss my folks."
 
"We got phones, Fish Guy," He reminded with a smile.
 
 "You're right," I nodded, maybe it was the near death experience I  had almost seen today, or the one I was worried about when Lady O had her own 'coming to Jesus' moment with me tomorrow, but suddenly getting in touch again with my own family sounded like a good idea, "Pardon me, I got a call to make."
 
Valentino waved as I headed out.

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.

This one took longer than I thought it would. I started in one direction, backtracked a bit, and went for another. 
 
  The battle with the Miscreants had thrown off "tour and orientation" they had planned for me, or so Dr. Vernon had told me. After the news, I learned that the food was pretty good. While the trays that shot out looked like something from an army messhall, It turned out Mabel could cook!   I guess she had tiny tractor beams to move things around in a kitchen area?  All I know is the tray shot out fully prepared and I had some of the best shrimp fried rice I'd had in months. I only then realized that I hadn't eaten all day. I tried not to shovel my food in and, I think, succeeded. As soon as I was done with that, Dr. Vernon showed me the room they'd picked for me.    Honestly, after the talk of considering living among the people I would protect, I felt it was a bit of a cheat to show me something far bigger for free than any apartment I could afford on my own but I kept my yap shut. The furniture was comfy if on the Spartan side. And I hit the bed hard.   That chanting was deafening and I didn't understand it. I looked to the guy floating in place next to me on my left and whispered, "Can you understand what they're saying?"   The man next to me shrugged, "Only a few of the educated and nobles speak the Deep Tongue, though if you want to progress in this army I am told your chances for promotion are better if you know it," The guy was about my age, maybe a bit younger. I guess I'd place him in at twenty one. The helmet he wore sported loose strands that moved in the current. He also had remarkably pale skin where his archaic armor let it show. It was almost albino like, but instead of pink, his eyes were dark with very little white around them, "Do not be troubled, soon the ritual will be complete and all will be able to understand each other and we'll hear the speech proper they use to give us a boost in morale. It's something about our inevitable victory, no doubt," He said it with a wry sort of 'don't they always' tone.   "No doubt," I answered and looked at the hundreds (or was it thousands?) of soldiers in the great stadium where we had been gathered in a ring. Many of the army looked a lot like the guy I had just spoken to; Pale with large dark eyes, Others however were more green, and some were blue. A few,   I swore, had gills! Some were almost metallic gold. And one segment of the gathered population had fish tails instead of legs like real mermaids and mer men of legend. All of them were dressed for war in various armor designs that looked like someone had ransacked a whole movie studio's inventory of period piece films from the middle ages and back. Weird, I thought.   "Do you hail from Tir Fo Thonin?" He asked, then noticed my look and mistook confusion for something else, "Sorry if I'm not pronouncing it right. You do not look like you are of  Yongwangguk, that is of certain.  This whole unifying the kingdoms  is really making me wish I chased females less and studied more."    "I thought chasing women was an education," I joked even as I wondered what the hell this guy was talking about. I fished for more information, "Do you think we can do it?"   "Drive the rebels under the banner for the great unification and then, once truly united, the great kingdoms of the sea will at last have their revenge on the surfacers for millennia of wrongs?" He lowered his voice as the chanting continued, "I have a spear in my hand that I'm told is blessed by the Eldest Deep. Frankly, it gives me nightmares. It's like a part of him inside it. I only pull it out when I have to. But the surfacers have progressed fast and far. Can it be done? Maybe. It will not be easy. And if it weren't for the fact it would hurt those in my village let alone have me slain on the spot for betrayal? I'd be just as happy to float on."   I nodded, "I'm scared too." I wasn't really scared, I was confused. What the hell was going on?  That chanting was getting louder and louder only I swore it was starting to make sense. However, the guy next to me grinned as I too admitted fear. His teeth were surprisingly needle like.   And how did I know what this guy was saying if some ritual was being cast for communication? That didn't make any sense.   Then the ritual finished and a figure in a cowled robe swam forward to the center of our great ring. The outfit was sinister enough, but the tendril like fingers at the end of his hand writhed as he greeted us in a voice that carried to every ear, bit it round, pointed, finned or nearly invisible.   "Denizens, citizens, inheritors of the depths... know then, the signs are marked. Know then, the Wheel is posed to be broken and remade. More and more of the rebels, traitors to the deep one and all,  are slain to feed him so the shackles maybe broken, and we may have what is promised! Those that do not abide in his wake are heathens, blasphemers who cling to their new gods. Only the Eldest can bring us victory. Only the Eldest can bring the lands above into their proper place as servants to the rightful lords of the deep! To the loyal! Conquest. To the heathen, their blood will drag along the currents as their souls feed his glory. To the surfacer? Chains that bind body and soul, and whips that break minds with every crack! PRAISE TO ELDEST!"   "Praise to the Eldest!" The hundreds chanted, but I noticed some chanting louder than others, and some who yelled loudly were yelling not because of loyalty, but because they did not want to be seen as disloyal.   This was an undersea pep rally from hell!   The guy next to me brought his spear down after the yelling ended and looked at me knowingly, "I know not if we are in the same sea or shall be fighting together in the war, so... it was good to meet you. I am Mayo. I hope we survive and that victory is gentle to us."  His eyes indicated the look of a man who feared success more than failure, and that? That surprised me.   "I am Caleb," I told him, breaking a cardinal rule of superheroing. Then again, I was in funky armor, not not my costume. Besides, I'd finally realized this was a dream, "Wait, what do you mean we're not in the same sea now?"    His dark eyes blinked, "How else are they to talk to all at once? Save in our sleep?"   I woke up in my bed. I was in the base, everything was fine and as it should be except for memories of the most bizarre dream I'd ever had in my life. And I could think was...what the hell was in that shrimp?"

In which our hero watches all the news that's fit to ..meh
 
  The others had gathered in what I guessed to be called the monitor area. As before, screen swapped and switched now and then to stress priority but this time with a focus on news. It had been over an hour  and a half since the fight with the Miscreants, and that was enough time for afternoon/early evening news to touch up copy, interview witnesses, and so on.   Some of us had changed out of our costumes, and frankly, that was pretty nice sign of trust. Like I said, Dr. Vernon had gotten her identity outed a while back, but  Tornado had just met  me and there he was wearing a lightweight blazer over a red shirt. His maskless face still had that easy going grin from earlier and he he sat down before the screen offering me a seat and a bowl of popcorn as I sat down.   "Hot date tonight," I indicated his outfit.   "Depends at how well I do at the club, mi amigo," He grinned, "And as there will be dancing, I do pretty well."   It occurred to me that super speed and hyper agility on the club floor probably did help with dancing even if he had to tamp down on it, "Women love dancing that much?"   "Not all women are the same," He conceded, "But in my experience? The more you make a woman feel like a heavenly body as you orbit her, the greater chance she will increasingly speculate on how delightful it might be to have your worlds collide. And I am very good at making women feel heavenly"   Arctic Fox had not changed out of her costume, perhaps she was patrolling later, maybe she was hoping to find Valorous again and patrol with him, she shook her head, "The Latin Lover lives," but it was said with resigned amusement, "You're so confident it might serve you right if you crashed a bit more often."   "I find I can face the positive stereotype of the Latin lover with great fortitude," he grinned.   "Good luck, Tornado," I smiled, glad from the distraction from the news that was about to start.   "Please, when I'm not wearing the mask, call me Valentino," He assured.   "You're kidding," I chuckled, "Valentino? Okay, That probably would help with some ladies I know."   "Thanks, man," He didn't ask for my secret identity in return. Maybe because I was still wearing my mask and it's a good habit to train yourself to associate the mask with one name, and the face with another. Being a solo hero I hadn't had much chance to put that in practice, but I resolved then and there to try.   "I give him hell every  February 14th," Pinprick spoke up happily. After escorting me here, he had co opted an arm rest and was now lounging on it.   "And this is different from other days of the year how?" Dr. Vernon inquired with amusement. She was out of her armor again, and to my surprise was wearing sweats and had a just showered look Somehow she wore even that with class.   "I'm more general in my distribution with the team the other days of the year," Pinprick answered in a 'you should know this tone'.   "Point," The team matriarch conceded then quieted as the news flickered up.   One Channel 3, a blonde woman with large blue eyes was talking, "Brandy Searlie with Costa Sagrado's own Super 3 newswatch!"   "Boo..."  Valentino threw a popcorn at the screen, "gonna be the only honest thing you say."   "What the ..." I glanced at him questioningly.   "Nah, let him roll, Fish Guy," Pinprick waved me off, "he's right. We're starting with the worst first. Channel 3 in this town is anti super to the extreme."   And Brandy was already talking, "Yet another dangerous superbattle in our fair city, this time the New Samaritans laid siege to the Miscreants in the middle of our financial district uptown with numerous lives on the line.  After the battle was done, damage was estimated to be in the thousands of dollars and no  less than fourteen people required medical oversight."   "Did I miss something? "Who got injured?" I asked the others worriedly, "Did the flames hit someone after all?"   "Eel," Vivian assured me, "She's using the term 'medical oversight' for everyone the EMT's looked over after the event. We're not talking broken arms, we're talking nerves being rattled and the like and making sure that anyone with heart conditions doesn't need oxygen or medication," And then the older woman shook her head, "And thousands of dollars worth of damage?That's a lot better than what it would have cost if he hadn't stopped them from really damaging the area. One place they hit with no superheroes to stop them  had property damage in the hundreds of thousands. This is sloppy reporting."   "No, Viv," Pinprick said, "it's a freaking hatchet job."   "Boo!" Valentino lobbed another thing of popcorn at the screen, and offered me the bowl.   This time I took some and threw it as well, "Hiss!" I joined in. it was kind of therapeutic. . Even Arctic Fox was joining in, "Someone should really tell bleach job that the 80s called and wants its hair back."   Unaware that she was the subject of righteous mockery, Brandy kept blathering on, "Perhaps part of the problem was the new  rookie on the team, referred to as Fish Guy."   I winced at that, and tried to focus on what Pinprick had said. I wasn't sure he was right about the reporters needing us though.  Some of them seemed content to go with what little they knew and build the story they wanted around it.   Case in point, her next comment, "We have footage of him clumsily falling into a flaming attack he could have easily avoided...." And indeed, footage taken from someone's cellphone showed a warbled clip of me getting Body Suit's flames and dropping but the angle didn't show ....    "That's not fair, there were at least three people that would have been hurt by that!" I said a bit louder than I needed to, "This isn't telling the whole story."   "She never does," Valentino said, flinging  more popcorn, "She's a lying liar what tells lies!"   "You tell 'em, Captain Thesaurus," Pinprick agreed, lobbing a popped piece with perfect accuracy right between her eyes on the screen. While shrunk, he had a strong arm.   "In the mean time, insults more suited to a school yard were shouted by our heroes," A clip of Fox's 'flat ass' comment, the one that bought me time to recover, was played, "And much chest beating abounded."   Another sound clip, it sounded like Pinprick? Yeah, that was his voice "King Kong ain't got nothing on me!"   Everyone turned to glance at Pinprick.   "Okay, that one I said, and there wasn't much call for it beyond gloating," Pinprick confessed, "In my defense I had watched a Denzel Washington marathon the other day. You're lucky I edited it."   Doctor Vernon chuckled at that throatily, "Pinprick, if you were Denzel Washington, I'd be keeping you in my cupboard all to myself."   Tornado/Valentino gave a look like that of a teen who just found his grandparents still got it on, Pinprick was saying "TMI Chief," And I guess my eyes must have bugged out a bit too.   Only Arctic Fox smiled.   Lady Obsidian glanced at our reaction, "I'm old, I'm not dead." she harrumphed, "Younger generation acts like you invented the bedroom boo..."   "Please, don't finish that sentence," Valentino pleaded with added melodrama, "I've lost so much already."   The answer to his comment  was Vivian lobbing one popcorn at him before turning back to her tea perhaps with another mutter about the fragility of the younger folk.   And somehow, a session of slander that should have gotten my blood boiling didn't feel that bad, for the moment. I mean, I'd still get upset no doubt, and it bothered me, but the popcorn throwing, the jokes about Brandy SearLIE , it took the edge off.   "Valorous was also reported on the scene having given at least some aid at the end, While an independent, it's clear the flying strong man continues to sniff after team membership and continues to be denied. What do the New Samaritans have against him? A better question might be, given their seemingly dubious standards, what is wrong with Valorous that disqualifies him?"   "#####" Arctic Fox's bared her teeth as she spoke the word then looked over at Lady O as if ready to ask a few questions of her own, but instead she clamped down and we resumed watching.   Channel 6 News had a rather sober looking middle aged man who was less speculative, and more brass tacks. I'll give him that. He wasn't exciting to watch. I don't remember his name, but he was fair and informative.   "Unfortunately, it is said that already millions are ready to go for the release and defense of the Miscreants thanks to funding channeled through Darknet websites and sponsors we cannot identify. Miscreant T-shirts, jackets and other fashion accessories continue to sell, some of them even seen on high schools and college campuses," The Newsman shook his head, "This reporter is paid for observation, but not opinion, but clearly there is a segment of society that idolizes the famous, or in this case infamous, and doesn't care how they gained it. We'll have a sociologist interview later this week on this disturbing trend, which maybe older than we think. In the mean time, due to conflicting reports, we can not be sure of the name of the New Samaritans' aquatic addition, but it is clear he was of great help in this particular clash."   And then, to back it up, they played a brief clip of an older woman after the battle. She looked vaguely familiar, then I realized  she was one of the people that almost got torched, "Well I don't know his name, but I know I would have died with out him, and not just me. That young man stopped that crazy tattooed harlot from roasting us alive..." She covered her mouth, "I'm sorry, can I say harlot on tv?" the reporter interviewing her assured her she could, and she went on, "So I just want to thank him and the other  Samaritans. My children might be missing a mother if not for them."   Valentino slapped me on the shoulder while Pinprick gave me an 'I told you so' look.   I beamed a bit goofily.   "It was well done, all," Lady Obsidian said a note of pride in her voice.   Channel 13 was as different from Channel 3 as could be. An excited trio of news folk rattled on about the fight as if it was a really awesome scene from a movie.    "Another amazing battle at the financial district..."   "Minimal property damage...."   "Arctic Fox continues to be in the top five most desirable  super heroines in California according to you, our viewers..."   "Most desirable super-heroines? I marched for feminism for this," Vivian sighed and sipped her tea.   "It is what it is," Arctic Fox shrugged, "The important thing is we get the job done."   Mabel's voice chuckled deeply, "So you weren't voting for yourself the other day?"   "Mabel," Arctic Fox blushed lightly, "Maybe you should run a self diagnostic, you're clearly miss-remembering things."   "My mistake," Mabel's sultry voice gave an amused sort of apology.   The Channel 13 guys went on, and mentioned me! By name! Well, my hero name!   "And the list for most desirable male superhero may have a new contender, behold Eel!  Footage from the fight earlier indicates someone who might give Tornado a run for his money."   "Oh, it's on," Valentino said. I think he was joking.   "Wait, is this news or a celebrity gossip show?" I inquired confused. I mean, I was thrilled they got the name right but what the heck? "Yes," Vivian said with a tone of sadness, "Yes it is."   "Wait, so this city's news options on TV are hateful slander, boring but researched, or a glorified fashion report?" I blinked.   "Welcome to the Fourth Estate!" Pinprick mimed raising a drink.

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. 

Today's effort....
 
Outcry didn't have an answer to my question, and truthfully, while I had a firm grip on him, I could see outside the corner of my eye another Miscreant, a woman with tattoos over a barely clad body, including a tattoo that served in place of a domino mask.  I understand that's not as rare as it used to be. Of course, what is rare is when those tattoos stretch from her body and attack things! Currently a tiger construct that had leaped from her flesh was menacing a crowd of three, while a tendril of black protruding from her skin cracked like a whip.
 
Yeah, no time to goof around with Outcry here. I brought my fist down with a blow that made  my earlier heavyweight punch look like a love tap. His eyes rolled in the back of his head right before they closed and I let him drop to the ground. I charged the tiger with my best tackle and, since it appeared to be some kind of freaky construct, didn't bother holding back. It shattered with a roar, and faded only to reappear, as its original tattoo I guess, on the woman's shoulder.
 
"Neat trick," I confessed, "You've got team mates down, on the floor hands behind your back!" Now it wasn't like I had a pair of handcuffs on me, but I had worked with the coast guard and it was the tone more than the methods I was copying here. I think some call it a  Voice of Authority. It does not work on everyone.
 
"Oh go @@@@ yourself," She said with a smirk. So, case in point, "Name's Body Suit. Who are you? Some sort of Fish Guy?" Her eyes went to my logo.
 
"Eel," I said, eyes narrowing. You know I may have to take some razing from team mates, but pass on the villain heckling, "Okay. I gave you a chance." 
 
Her response was a lightning quick lash of that ink tendril. It hit like a bullwhip, and I'm not going to lie, the speed and the loud CRACK sound took me off guard. Amateur mistake on my part, and I was embarrassed by it. Bullets flatten against me, so impressive as this was in display? It really didn't hurt me. I had weaved back after the fact anyway.
 
"Chicken of the sea," Body Suit snickered.
 
"If you don't mind," I said with some irritation, "I'll do the quips. I'm the hero," and I surged towards her to lay a punch on her, only to find a barrage of tattoos come to life swarming me, and shielding her. My blow went wide and she lashed again. This time  I didn't flinch, "You'll need more than that." I warned her.
 
Again I swung, and again I missed. She was agile, and that was...frustrating.
 
She wasn't completely on the defensive however, Body Suit's fingers slide to her belly where there was a tattoo of a coiled dragon. It's eye glowed, it's head lifted and then it breathed fire!
 
I did not scream. I wanted to, and almost did. I don't suppose it will come as a surprise to anyone that a guy whose body had adapted for aquatic enviroments might be a bit vulnerable to drying out. I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't have to dunk myself in a bathtub every 12 hours or I die  or anything, and I'm still far tougher than 90% of the folks on the planet when it comes to taking any kind of punishment, but going back to scales of one to ten? Whenever fire is involved, add two at least to how much I'm going to feel it.
 
But I didn't scream. I gasped in pain, grimaced visibly, and staggered, but I did not scream. Yay, machismo.  Macho pride aside, I was painfully aware I couldn't take too many more hits like that. And I hadn't laid a glove on her yet.
 
I raised my foot up to stomp hard, the shockwave would pop her into the air like a toy. I'd done it before and it was damn hard to dodge even for gymnastic types. Then I realized- I couldn't! Well, I could, but I'd toss and tumble some of the nearby innocents! My eyes fell on the three people she'd been terrorizing before. 
And Body Suit's gaze followed mine, "Oh wow, you're into that...hey hero, Catch!" 
 
The dragon head roared again, and once more flames belched out, not towards me, but the citizenry! I had heard the Miscreants weren't big on killing, but maybe they figured second and third degree burns didn't count? 
 
I don't create forcefields. I don't teleport crowds to safety. I did the only thing I could. I did another standing leap! This time, into the path of the flames! There were screams this time, the folks behind me yelling in panic, but none of them were touched- Thank the Lord.  As the flames scorched over my body, I crashed onto the ground with all the dignity of today's catch, if today's catch came pre-cooked. For a moment, I threatened to black out.
 
"Fish Fry!" Body Suit cackled. In a moment, I'd be up again. In a moment I'd get to try a clear shot at a shock wave move. It was a moment I didn't have. The Dragon head inhaled again.
 
"You poor thing," Another woman's voice spoke up cattily, "How bad was your original complexion that you had to bury it in those cheap tattoos like that?"  It was Arctic Fox, riding up above on an ice support that grew and moved to her will.
 
Below her was another Miscreant, some guy trapped and helpless up to his neck in a block of ice , teeth chattering. Body Suit's eyes didn't look at him, they glared at Fox, "Shut your mouth, whore."
 
Fox gave a disdainful shrug, "Hey, I'm not the one with a dollar sign over her flat ass."
 
Oh, I was forgotten and then some!  The stream of profanity from Body Suit at that  would have made sailors blush! One thing I knew,  now I had the time. The folks who were in danger had finally gotten clear. I brought both arms down on the street right behind Body Suit and sent a shockwave! 
 
I'm rather proud of myself. Twice burned and on my knees, and I still managed to pull it off. Body Suit was flung upward into the air, and landed onto the ground flat and helpless.
 
Fox clocked her hard with a cold blast, then looked down at me, "You okay?" As if showing concern for me cost her something.
 
"Never been rescued by a mean girl for justice before," I smiled getting up, "Thanks."
 
A smile escaped her at my comment, but she banished it with visible force of will, then she was off again.
 
The battle had started out seven against five in the Miscreants favor.  That, and the battle, was over. While I'd been dealing with Outcry and Body Suit, the other New Samaritans had each taken down at least one each. I could see a shrunken woman in a basetball sized force bubble that Lady Obsidian had created, bouncing against it like a bug in a jar.  The Matriarch of the team had done more than act as cage maker for Pinprick's oppoenent. Another Miscreant with powered armor had apparently tangled with her hoping his tech out matched hers. Clearly, it did not. The suit's power source was damaged, and he was now stuck like a turtle on it's back.
 
That was five, "Did any of them get away?"  I asked looking for the other two. 
 
"I think one may have, " Tornado said, dropping a cyborg with metal wings to the ground, "Robo-Raptor gave me more trouble than I thought and brought his team mate time to book it. "
 
"Robo-Raptor?" I winced , "Ouch."
 
Lady Obsidian said calmly, "Well, I won't lie. I was hoping for a clean sweep, but the important thing is no one was hurt and we've interrupted their little show. Their last member was a speedster, so she could be  anywhere by now."
 
"Or she could be right here," A new voice called out. The owner of the voice was an impressively built guy with a big V on his chest wearing red with gold highlights. He was flying, and frankly, I think it would have looked better with a cape. If I could fly? I would totally rock the cape. In his arms was an unconscious woman in a costume that looked like a cross between a punk rocker and a roller derby queen.  He set her down before Lady Obsidian, "Back Block was quick, but she wasn't expecting me so I took advantage of the element of surprise." He sounded almost apologetic about it.
 
"Thank you, Valorous," Lady Obsidian said, "This ties things up rather nicely."
 
"Val!" And suddenly there was Arctic Fox in Valorous' now available arms, laying one hell of a kiss on him, "You got her, thank you so much. I'm so glad to see you." She kissed him again.
 
"Not as glad as I am to see you," He gushed at her.
 
"Gonna puke now," Pinprick gave a whisper everyone could hear.
 
"Be nice," Lady Obsidian's voice came on the communicator, directed at the little archer in a way the non-member wouldn't hear.  However, her own tone was guarded.
 
The flying strong man and the snow queen gazed into each other's eyes as if we weren't there at all for a moment, then finally, Valorous looked about again, "Looks like catching Back Block by surprise was about the only thing left for me to do. Nice work here."
 
"De Nada," Tornado said with a smile and shrug, "These punks were more concerned with looking good for their show than team work."
 
"And who is this?" His eyes fell on me. I couldn't read him well but I could tell he was making a survey on my build, height, logo? Was this some sort of 'size up the other strong guy an wonder if you could take him?' thing, or was it as analytical as it seemed? 
 
"We got ourselves a Fish Guy," Pinprick said, "This is Eel. Newest member."
 
Arctic Fox shot Pinprick a glare of death at that bit. Clearly she had not given up her hopes of having her boyfriend take the spot instead.
 
"Ah," Valorous disentangled himself from his girl long enough to approach me and offer his hand, "Nice to meet you, Eel." I shook it, half way expecting some sort of macho bone crushing contest. Instead, it was firm, but no more.
 
"Nice to meet you, Valorous," I told him.
 
"You appear to be a bit burned, need medical attention?" He asked, actually sounding worried. Huh, maybe I was being unfair to the man just because I felt my position on the team threatened. That wasn't fair of me and I decided to give him a chance.
 
"Nothing a quick dip won't fix," I assured him. And it was true. I actually regenerate in water. Injuries that would linger for days fade in minutes if I'm submerged, "But thanks for the concern."
 
With this jabber going on, it might seem like we neglected the villain round up. Actually, Project Tank was on the job.  If your city doesn't have an outpost nearby it can take a dangerously long time for them to get to you, but this town as a regular stop over for them thanks to all the hero activity. Project Tank does transport of super powered felons to containment facilities specifically build to deal with their powers. It cost taxpayers a bundle, but not nearly as much as they'd end up paying if they couldn't hold their super-villains. The term "Throw them in the Tank" had taken on whole new meanings in the twenty years since they got up and running.
 
There was talk of a private industry to handle the job 'for cheaper', but that withered on the vine when the millionaire who had been lobbying for the right to do so along with every backer he had was found dead, each with a one hundred dollar bill shoved in their mouths. On each Benjamin was written "It's not as profitable as you think."
 
No one know what villain did it, or why they were okay with the fed doing it but not the private sector. All folks knew was suddenly no corporation wanted to touch the job of privatizing holding super-powered types.
 
Crazy world.
 
Men in gray uniforms were slapping power suppression cuffs and injecting medically approved knock out drugs into the Miscreants. No chances were taken. I winced a bit at the sight of titanium needles going into their bodies, but I suppose I couldn't blame them.
 
Crazy world.
 
"Regeneration," Valorous was saying, "Handy. That's one up on me. So are you from..."
"I'm not Atlantean," I said, perhaps a bit quickly.
 
"Oh," He said, making no more of it, perhaps because he turned to see that Project Tank was not alone on the scene. Reporters had begun to swarm in. In an age where everyone's phone was a high quality camera, they were no doubt desperate to play catch up.
 
I looked to Lady Obsidian for the signal to get the heck out of here, but she was filling the Project Tank guys in on the Miscreants' abilities and the like. Tornado was happily chatting with a female reporter and ... Pinprick, had vanished. 
 
I decided to follow his example, only to notice Valorous waving some reporters over. I wasn't prepared for this. Relief washed through me as it seemed they were focusing on him.
 
"Valorous, can you tell us about the situation?" "Do you think the Miscreants will have copy cat villain teams inspired by their social media fame seeking?" "Are you finally joining the New Samaritans?" came a barrage of questions at him.
 
"I only helped at the end," He said holding out a hand, "And I hope anyone considering emulating the Miscreants will realize where they're all ending up for their criminal behavior and that that will discourage them. Our youth need real role-models like Lady Obsidian and the New Samaritans, and lastly... because I'm being called away to aid another, no. I'm not a member though I'd be honored. Instead, they have chosen this fine hero: Fish Guy." He slapped me on the back like we were best friends, "And I know he'll learn much under their tutelage." 
 
"My name's Eel..." I started to blurt but cameras went off in my face and notes were being taken.. I shot one more glance up at the departing independent hero. He had just given the wrong name to the Press.  To add on top of that, his choice of words made me sound more like a sidekick than an equal member.
 
And I saw the briefest of smirks cross his features before that noble veneer returned, I came to one very strong conclusion.
 
The bastard had done it to me on purpose!

Okay, busy day today so I didn't get as far as I liked, but i did promise at least one paragraph so that's met at least. I do find it interesting, trying to balance power levels with introductory fights. Do I let him get slapped around first and risk making him look like a farce beyond the Fish Guy joke? Or do I make him powerful and competent in his first fight and risk accusations of Marty Stu ism? or at least making it too easy? Ah fun times.
 
  The finacial district of Costa Sagrado, would, at any other time, have struck me as grand if a bit sterile in style. I would have likely thought it nice enough, clearly someone tried to make it impressive, but if anything the over planning over the layout meant it was trying too hard to wow you. I don't know enough about city design to explain it but in normal situations, I would have gone through here, got whatever I needed to do done, and moved on to a part of the city with more spark.   But this wasn't an ordinary time for it. The Miscreants were terrorizing the place, and that was dangerous. Apparently the villain team wasn't know for killing, but that didn't mean deaths might not result from their reactions. They were trying to scare the living hell out of people, and it was working! When crowds panic, it's not unlike stampeding cattle. I know that's an insulting comparison, but what I'm trying to say is that if a mob gets running in enough numbers in one direction: Heaven help anyone in their way. Old men can get knocked down, little kids can be trampled.   It was like a Sale on Thanksgiving only without the promise of low low prices that made it seem okay to crush or be crushed by your fellow citizens. Cause in point, the hovercar had stopped over the southern side of the district, and now less than twenty feet below one crowd of twelve people were in a full run. One middle aged man tripped, and  the four closest to him were about to stomp all over him.   I readied to leap down and get to him fast. It was only twenty feet, I can handle a twenty foot drop without a bruise in my sleep, but Arctic Fox was faster, and apparently saw me tense, "I got this," She assured spreading her fingers and a there was a surge of cold from her I could feel even behind her. Suddenly every single one of those dozen people were covered in snow. No doubt they were feeling the chill, but they weren't harmed, and the soft yet abrupt imobolization stopped that particular part of the human stampede cold.   Yeah, I regreted that phrasing as soon as it entered my head.  Something small, no, make that someone,  jumped on my shoulder, and I heard Pinprick call out, "Keep  the engine running Mabel, "With an aside to me, "Take us down, Fish Guy."   And I did. I do not fly. I swim incredibly fast, I've got a pretty good walking time, and I run a little faster than your average fellow. I also leap. It's not just my arm muscles that are super strong after all. It's basically a standing jump, no room for a build up, I just jumped from the car to close the distance between myself and the nearest Miscreant.  I belive the record in sporting events for a non running jump is a little over twelve feet.    I went forward thirty, and then plummeted down twenty more. My feet smashed into the pavement and I didn't even feel a jolt. What can I say? I'm tough. It's to Pinprick's credit that he took it all in stride. I guess when you have team mates who can fly, going along for a leap like we just did isn't that impressive after all, or at least it isn't startling.  He just jumped off my shoulder to  join the fray elsewhere. The Miscreant I had landed near though was surprised.   And that was gratifying. The fellow before me had face make up with an exaggerated painted on tear under one eye. He was like a weird cross between a KISS fan, an Emo in cos play, an escaped circus clown. No big red shoes or funny spot patterns on the clothes mind. His costume was part Victorian gentleman's suit and part punk rocker. It wasn't hard to guess his powers: he'd been scattering people by screaming at them.   And geez he was loud. Four people covered their ears and looked ready passed out as he kept shrieking at them in a  voice that screeched like the whine of a plane taking off while out of tune electric guitars played accompaniment. His victims weren't bleeding out of their ears... yet, but the look of sadistic pleasure on his face made wanting to punch him almost instinctive.   I didn't know well he could take a hit, so I restrained myself to the level of force that an Olympic boxer might manage. That's no small potatoes by the way, those guys wear mouth guards for a reason but I wasn't likely to break a jaw with it.    I hadn't realized until the blow landed that the sound  waves he was putting out seemed to be shielding him all over even as they tormented those people. The Miscreant slammed to the ground, but it was as much from surprise as anything else.   His heavily made up eyes glanced up and his mouth turned into a grin, "Oh yeah! We got heroes! Sales of our action streams are going to go through the roof! No more holding back! YES!" Frankly, the fact he was on his ass and this happy about it felt wrong to me, and not to mention a little insulting, "Outcry T-shirts will be selling like hotcakes!"   His mouth opened and a piercing lance of sound hit me, shaking my insides. It stung, I admit it. The villain stood up smugly at first, but then his eyes narrowed in concern as he realized I wasn't even being pushed back, and the sound increased even as it lowered in tone, becoming more forceful. Outcry was trying to knock me away, to get some distance between him and the super strong guy. It good strategy in someways.   But against me? That honestly was a mistake. You see, I can stand in the middle of some pretty powerful waves and not move an inch. This? This wasn't budging me, and it actually hurt less than the higher pitches. I grabbed him by the jaw and yanked his head looking up, causing it to fire over me, and, more importantly, avoid the crowd.   Then I raised my free hand into a  fist and made sure he could see it out of the corner of his gaze, "On a scale of one to ten," I inquired, "One being tissue paper, and 10 being diamond hard, how tough would you say you are when that scream is going?"

Okay, today we don't quite get to the fight, but we're moving along
 
  "So how's this work?" I asked feeling a bit silly for asking. It was clear they had a system of some sort. And silly new guy that I was, I had not read the employee handbook.   Arctic Fox made another sniff sound.   I came this close to telling her she really needed to see a doctor about that if it persisted for more than 24 hours.    Fortunately, Pinprick was his usual helpful self, "Use your eyes, genius, this may have been a food court, but it's a lot more than that now." He gestured further back, and damn it, if he wasn't right.   I'd gotten so caught in meeting Arctic Fox and Tornado... no, strike that, Arctic Fox was trying to get rid of me, she didn't get top billling.... Tornado and Arctic Fox that I hadn't really looked at my surroundings. Yes, it still had a kitchen set up, tables and more so this was obviously the 'mess hall' for the team, but one area had, instead of ticky tacky tables for four or six people, a large crescent shaped table with several seats on the outter side of said crescent looking at a wall which had an array of very high tech looking screens.    On said screens were what I could only assume were different camera taps of the streets and buildings of Costa Sagrado.  It's not as shady as it sounds. Now a days, a lot of buildings have their cameras streaming onto the internet and anyone can see what's going on. Of course, others did look more like the views from street cameras only law enforcement was supposed to have access to, and a few may have been suspiciously akin to drone views.    On second thought, it was about as shady as it sounds. The superhero community has a bit of a beam in it's eye when it comes to privacy. We're very defensive our secret identies (And for darn good reason) but more than one hero or team has seen the advantage of putting others under surveillance. I can't say I was completely comfortable with it, but then I was the new guy here and it was a bit soon to make waves about it- no water related puns intended.   The images were not static, apparently they sorted and flipped to the center depending on how important it was in general. "A priority Algorhtym?" I inquired as I stared at the center scene. It was a group of supervillains, and for a moment my throat tightened at a memory.  But no, I didn't recogize any of them. Whew.   "Right you are, hon," Mabel's purring voice came from the table, "It looks like the Miscreants are at it again. Probably hoping for more hits."   "Mabel?" I said startled, "You're not just in the car?" I asked as I looked over the image studying these guys. The Miscreants (And what was with that name anyway?) seemed to consist of seven members that were currently robbing uptown, the financial district. What didn't make sense was they were mostly terrorizing the citizens outside on the streets, sure, some where being robbed, but others just ridiculed and tossed around, "You said something about hits?"   "The Miscreants live for social media hits to their website which goes up everytime authorities take it down, they consider themselves a supervillain reality TV show," Mabel explained, "And darling, I'm not the kind of girl to be tied down to anyone place. I'm just too generous."   "Fish Guy, if you're tagging along," Arctic Fox said as if I were some skinblemish she couldn't remove...yet, "Stop flirting with Mabel and get a move on. The Miscreants aren't killers but they don't exactly play soft."   I clamped down on my next comment because it might have been rude. Also, she was right. Response time was important and I wasn't exactly picking up the pace here.   "Someone give him a communicator," Pinprick suggested, "While Mabel strikes up the hovercar."   Tornado touched an impression in the table and a slim drawer opened, there were about 10 items that looked like hearing aids made of some kind of waxy plastic, "Take one, put it in your ear. It'll hook you up to the rest of us."   I grabbed one and slipped it in, "not a problem I..." then there was an odd sucking sound, and I swear the thing moved deeper in! The room spun for a second. "Gah," I said bracing myself as vertigo briefly engulfed me and that communicator slurped near my ear drum, "It's like it's trying to lick my brain."   "It'll pass, Fish Guy," Pinprick assured me.   Indeed, it already was, "You could have warned me," I grumbled and headed to the car.   "Where would be the fun in that?" Tornado chuckled, "I'll be flying side by side with Lady Obsidian."   Indeed, Lady Obsidian was standing outside the Hovercar with her armor now on and ready to go. The appearance off it was streamlined enough to let you know a woman was under there, one with scary looking gear. As her chosen handle indicated, the power armor appeared to be made of obsidian, all black and glassy, but I read somewhere it was actually high tech plastics coupled with forcefield engineering.   Pinprick leaped into the front seat of the hover car, while Arctic Fox slipped into the passenger side, leaving yours truly the back seat. The sky light opened, and with a whoosh, Tornado was just...gone! I mean, the skylight hadn't even finished and he shot through it and gone out of sight. Slower, but no less impressive, Lady Obsdian light up with a faint glow and followed.    "Test test test?" I muttered touching my ear where the communicator had gone as the hover car lifted up a distant third.   "Loud and Clear" Lady Obsidian's voice assured me despite the distance, and indeed she was. I could hear her perfectly well, which was good, because she had more to say, "Priorities for the New Samaratins: Lives of Innocents come first always. Try to keep the fight away from crowds. Don't get separated from the team if you can possibly help it. If you're not sure of the capabilities of who you are fighting, particularly defenses, best to go in soft and work your way up."   "Roger that," I said.   Arctic Fox rolled her eyes, "Roger that? God how Lame."   "I like it," Tornado chuckled, "Remember to check your six, over?"   "See what you started, Fish Guy?" Pinprick said irritably, "This gonna be a thing for at least a week with that. I can tell."   What could I say but... "Copy that."   Groans hit the comm, all save another chuckle from Tornado.

The very rough drafts put on here as it comes to my mind continues. Typos inevitable...vlonks will reign and rain...if you can continue to endure that, enjoy.
 
"Arctic Fox, Tornado," Dr. Vernon made introductions smoothly, perhaps trying to move things along from the resentful glare and cool tone I was receiving from the aptly named Arctic Fox, "This is Eel, our newest member," Arctic Fox sniffed a little at that, but the older heroine either didn't notice or acted like it and continued on, "Eel, this is Arctic Fox and Tornado." 
 
She pronounced Tornado in the Spanish way of "Tor NAH do" and I took in a better look at the fellow. There really was something familiar about his dark blue costume. with black touches. The mask covered the eyes and top part of his head and tied in the back leaving strands that dangled jauntily. The costume had a slightly open chest but with crosswork which reminded me of a pirate.... no, not a pirate exactly. Something else. Then I realized who he would look like, albeit in the wrong color, if he just had a hat and cloak.
 
"Tornado?" I said stressing the syllables as she had, "Like's Zorro's horse!" 
 
About two seconds after I said that, I regretted it. Had I just compared a new team mate to a horse? Oh geez.
 
To my surprise, Tornado's eyes lit right up, and he offered me his hand with a huge smile, "Hey, man, you're the first one to get it right first try! Yeah, I mean my power is flight and superspeed, I mix it with a little marital arts so I like to boast I move and hit like a human tornado.. I couldn't take Zorro, trademark stuff, and truthfully it didn't fit my powers, but you better believe I wanted to pay respect in my way to one of the first Latino Masked Adventurers in fiction."
 
Pinprick sighed, "Here we go."
 
Vivian smiled.
 
Arctic Fox hadn't lost her, dare I say it, frosty demeanor. 
 
I shook Tornado's hand warmly, he had a good grip, and there was nothing adversarial in it, "I know right? I mean, I've actually got the old TV series in its original black and white, the trade comic books, and of course the movies..."
 
"Man," He grinned as the handshake ended, "I got a Zorro movie that was never released to the public. Saved a studio and we can't take money, but when the guy found out I was a fan...."
 
I felt a sting of genuine geeky envy, "You're kidding right? You lucky dog. Is it any good?"
 
His smile widened, "Oh god man, it's terrible, I've seen Middle School productions with better acting but who cares right? It's a Zorro movie!"
 
"I hear you," I laughed, "Maybe sometime I could..."
 
"Sure, these clowns don't appreciate fine theater," Tornado lamented.
 
Arctic Fox sniffed, "Tornado, we just met Fish Guy. Don't you think it's a bit soon to arrange a date at the movies?"
 
"Hey," He shot A.F. a look, "Don't give the guy wrong ideas about me," And he turned back, "Though, if you're into fellows and feel I led you on, I have a cousin ....his mother doesn't know so you'd have to be discreet."
 
I tried not to choke, "Ah, no. I'm into women, I mean... I like women. Sometimes I wish they liked me more back..." 
 
Pinprick barked a laugh.  Lady Obsidian kept her amusement carefully confined to her eyes. Tornado chuckled, "I get you, man. Shame though. Diversity is  easy points with the public now a days."
 
"We've got a black woman leading us, a Latino guy, and me- a person who makes Peter Dinklage look huge, how much 'Diversity' does one team need?" Pinprick snorted.
 
"Don't forget," Arctic Fox added, perhaps to cut off Tornado who looked like had some opinions he'd be happy to debate with Pinprick, "We also now have an Atlantean American," She tried to make it a joke, but that cool dislike of me still slipped out. What had I done to piss this woman off?
 
"Actually, I'm not connected to Atlantis or any other Under Sea Kingdom in any way, shape or form," I said, and it felt like I'd been saying it a lot, so I info-dumped fast, "I don't 'talk to fish', telepathically or otherwise, and I wouldn't know an Atlantean from Shriner if it wasn't for the funny hats."
 
Arctic Fox's eyes shifted from that resentful look my way to something more positive, like she'd actually received good news, "Wait, he's not? Let me call Je....Valorous.  I'm sure he's still hoping to join on," She smiled, and darn it, it did light up the room, then she turned to me as if much was forgiven, "Thanks for dropping by, sorry it didn't work out."
 
"Fox," Dr. Vernon said in a soft tone.
 
"Didn't work out?" I replied startled at the gear shifts going on here.
 
She continued on, "Well the only reason we needed a Fish Guy was in case of Atlantis , it's complicated, but you aren't tied to it in anyway by your own admision, well, you understand you aren't what we're looking fo..."
 
"Young lady," Dr. Vernon said in a tone that one honed in certain jobs in education, or perhaps as a mother. That 'yank you up short by your waistband if I have to' voice of authority? You know the one.
 
Arctic Fox was not immune to it any more than I was,  "What?" She asked the woman, "The Fish Guy's a flop."
 
"Hey," Escaped my mouth before I could filter.
 
"Arctic Fox," There was a touch more snap into the voice this time, as Dr. Vernon went on, "You are being rude to a team mate. Eel is staying. An offer was made and accepted. The man has super strength, high durability, and can breathe under water. All very useful. He's also got a good record, and a recommendation from the Coast Guard. He stays."
 
"He swims? Big deal, Valorous is superstrong, nigh invulnerable, and he flies!" Arctic Fox said, "I don't know why you don't like him, and insist on shutting him out. He's a good man and a true hero, and..."
 
PInprick is hard to read. Facial expressions on a visage smaller than a quarter can be difficult to make out. Yet I swore I saw a scowl forming on his face, and I realized he was about to say something rude. Possibly in my defense, certainly in Dr. Vernon's defense.
 
So I'm not sure why I cut him off with a question of, "Anyone mind telling me who the hell this Valorous guy is?" I didn't add that solo adjectives for names had always struck me as kind of lame. Okay, you want to be Captain Fantastic fine. But just "i'm Fantastic!" by itself? It smacks of desperation really, either that or an ego the size of a glacier. Of course, some superheroes get their handles from the Press, so maybe it wasn't Valorous' fault he sounded like a battle ship.
 
"He's one of the independents  I was telling you about, Fish Guy," Pinprick reminded, "He's square jawed, boy scout do gooding type, pulls kittens from trees. Me? I just shrink the tree and laugh as the cat freaks out. He's also her boyfriend," The little man jerked a thumb at Arctic Fox.
 
I had been putting that together on my own, but it was nice to have it all click together with an extra push. I gave a look over at Arctic Fox, who was fighting very hard not to blush. Her neck had lifted in that way some women get when they are trying command their face not to change color. I may speak before I think sometimes, but I do notice things when I try.
 
"That's not why I want him on the team," She said calmly. The others did not look convinced, but she went on, "And I'm really confused why we are settling here."
 
I huffed a bit at that. Sorry, only human, and for some reason the shots being taken here were bothering me a lot more than the 'Fish Guy' comments Pinprick gave.
 
"Fox," Dr. Vernon said, "You are a good hearted young woman, so when it sinks into you exactly how rude you're being to this nice young man, don't come crying to..."
 
Whatever proverbial hammer the team Veteran was about to bring down was interrupted by a sudden ringing sound that reverberated through the base.
 
"What the hell was that?" I asked.
 
"That, my new fishy friend," Tornado answered, "was the trouble alert!" He took a rather dramatic step forward as he said this.
 
"Stop calling it that," Pinprick and Arctic Fox told Tornado in unison.
 
"Everyone grab your gear," Dr. Vernon said,  "If you don't already have it. Looks like Eel is getting some on the spot training in super teams," She strode in a direction, I assumed to get her armor on, "And Tornado? Stop it calling it the trouble alert."
 
"No one appreciates the classics," Tornado lamented.

And Lo, my anti-feetwing bigotry crushed any chances of my works ever becoming a best seller! Meh, we carry on.
 
 As I followed Doctor Vernon further along the mall turned base, I admit it. I rubbernecked something fiercely. You have to understand, to those of us new to the whole team set up, bases are a rare thing. Oh sure, we have homes, and maybe we squat in deserted buildings, but unless you're independently wealthy or have powers that allow you to whip something up - most of them are dumps. It's easy to turn some hole in the ground into your Hero Cave if you're a billionaire, or sculpt a fortress out of ice if you have fire eye powers and the ability to lift mountains. 
 
But for most solo heroes? A classy, well furnished lair is a pipe dream.
 
Teams are another matter, teams increase the odds you've got at least one member with a major piggy bank, or someone with enough technical knowhow or mystic might that they can just whip some place up for you all to crash at. Usually a mix of resources: The Tech guy (or gal) gets funding from Captain Moneybags and the others use super strength or speed or what not to save on labor costs. Most unions let it slide. Superheroes stay out of the construction business and we can make our own bases. It's all good.
 
So yeah, I was constantly looking to my left and right at the various once shops now being used as medbays, workshops, laboratories, and more.  Heck, they had an entire area for costume creation, design and repair! 
 
"Do you guys even need this much room?" I had to ask.
 
"Not really," Vivian admitted, "But I have some robots that help with the cleaning, and once we turned some of the rooms on the top area residential that took up some space."
 
"Whoa," I was surprised, "You guys live here?"
 
"For most of us they're backup rooms; after a long day of patrolling and a superbattle, some folks just want to hit pillow and so we arrange for them here when that comes up. A few of us," She paused, nodding to Pinprick who I had forgotten was there (Sorry, did I mention he was very small?) "have more trouble fitting in and their room here is a place they don't get harassed by the public."
 
"Appreciate it, Viv," Pinprick said without breaking stride, "It's a nice set up."
 
"Well, that's great!" I beamed, "I mean, do you have any idea how much I'll save in rent?"
 
The older woman frowned, just a little, but I noticed it.
 
"It's not great?" I paused.
 
"Young man, you are welcome here, and that includes a place to stay if you need it, but..." Her frown remained, "I've seen what happens to superheroes who never interact with the people they save. Its like what happens to some police men who only get out of their car to deal with a crime. If all you see is Humanity at its worse, then soon you start to think the worst of humanity. If you only see ordinary people as victims, soon you start to think of them as weak, or worse, sheep. You start rationalizing that you know what's best... and that can get dangerous. Not just to them, but to you. It blinds the spirit to how we're all in this together. Am I making sense?"
 
Yeah, she was making sense. Further more, she said it with such quiet dignity and resolve, some part of me felt like I should be writing this stuff down, preferably on stone tablets so I could carry it to the other rookies in the world, "Yes, Ma'am, and... thanks."
 
"It's just advice, it's cheap to give, hard to live, isn't that the way?" She motioned, "Set up a room here, then that'll buy you time to get the best apartment or house for you outside. Save up a little cash and all that. Come on."
 
We came to the area that must have once been the food court, and two figures came into view. 
 
One of them was a latino gent with a kind of swashbucker flare to him, one of those masks that tied in the back? He wasn't really my focus, I'm embarrassed to say.
 
Remember what I said about how not every superhero guy has the physique of a body builder? And not every superheroine is a runway model?  Well, that's true, but I will say that , on the typical 'visually pleasant' scale, more superheroines are in the upper reaches than is normal. Of course, tastes vary, and I honestly believe that every woman has something beautiful about her. Heck, the first girl I dated had a smile that lit up a room and she seemed completely unaware of it.
 
But the young lady we were approaching seemed to have blended the best elements of swimsuit model and dancer. Yes, she was stacked. I'm sorry, but she had that classic hour glass look that many of the XY type are drawn to. She was toned as well, and it showed off in strong shapely legs. She had eyes behind her own strip of a mask that were so light brown they appeared almost amber hued, and she wore an outfit of silver and off white that resembled a tasteful but form fitting one piece swim suit. Her costume had both boots and gloves of similar color. I suppose it should go without saying, but the boots were flat. If you see a superheroine with high heels, she's either really new to the game, or has some non walking power like flight or teleportation. Her medium length hair was brown with white streaks skillfully applied.
 
She turned those amber eyes on me ,and I could tell right away....
she really wished I would just go away. In fact, she looked at me with resentment, "So," She said coolly, "You're the Fish Guy."
 
I cast a look at Pinprick, but he shrugged, "Hey, don't look at me. She came up with that on her own."

Thanks for the encouragement, folks.
 
While Pinprick didn't go into details, it turns there are other Undersea Kingdoms. Somehow I had been hoping this whole 'Atlantis' bit was just some hazing ritual new guys went through, but while I wouldn't put it past Pinprick to 'give his team mates hell' as he'd said earlier; it was increasingly clear he was dead serious. This was a problem, if I had been selected for ties I didn't have to a kingdom I didn't even believe in, I might be getting a real quick heave ho. What was I going to do? Sue a super team? I mean, I could try. It had been done before, but usually for property damage or the like. Even that had changed. New York City was the first to write laws protecting superheroes from certain lawsuits as long as it could be proven they were saving lives in doing it or preventing greater damage. In 1973, a giant robot rose out of the Hudson and began to demolish some very expensive real estate in Manhattan.Well, the Vindicators, the Superteam in the area, who had been sued a year before for damage to a bridge (That they did break so a ship wouldn't smash against it) decided they'd save the people, but after evacuating them, let the robot have at the property of the very well to do. They explained to the authorities they could not take the legal risk for "mere property" especially with the city having sued them before. After the first penthouse crumbled, some say it was the fastest piece of legislation the city had ever signed. The team got around to trashing the robot, coincidentally finishing it off over the stately home of the guy who had sued them a year before. They swore it was just a fluke. Me? I think if some team has a name whose root word is 'vindictive' then you have no right to be surprised that they hold a grudge.
 
Incidentally, that's why New York City has more superhero teams than almost anywhere else in America today. It has the laws most forgiving to superheroic acts of destruction; be they the result of blunders or necessary firebreaks or what not. Many New Yorkers take pride in their superhero teams now, but in '73? I'm told the Vindicators got labelled everything from 'The X-tortion Men' to the 'Got us by the Short Hairs' Six. Even some superheroes at the time went on record saying they did not approve. But if not for them, and the laws in other states they inspired... who knows how many villains would have conquered a chunk of the nation all because the only ones who could hold them back were in prison or so in debt they couldn't afford a paper bag over their head let alone a mask? History has always interested me, but I'm a dabbler rather than a serious scholar.
 
Somehow it felt wrong to be even contemplating a lawsuit if I got thrown out, even if the New Samaritans and I did have an agreement of sorts. I glanced down below the city of Costa Sagrado. It wasn't like New York City (Which I did visit once for two weeks), and it sure as hell wasn't like any place in North Carolina. Costa Sagrado got its name from the mission some Spanish priests had set up here. Before them, some Native American tribes had fought each other and bleed over the place, until diseases from Europe came over and devastated them. Then Mexico, and then finally the United States became chief rent collectors of the place. Even in the 21st century, there were touches of history and change both. The shore was most prominent, it was the city's prize jewel, even from the car I could see figures racing along the sands in swimsuits and running into the spray. Further north of them was where the more industrial shipping went on. I had heard strong efforts had been made in the last fifteen years to keep the waters as clean as possible. Good thing, I would be swimming there. When you're the Fish Guy on a team, that's where your team mates expect you to patrol.
 
 Damn it, now I was doing it.
 
"Yeah, that's where you'll be working most like," Pinprick said noticing where my gaze had fallen. The car seat he was in had an arm rest he could hop up on and look out the window from. Mabel, it seemed, was doing all the driving.
 
Pinprick continued, "It's like any city.... you get your ethnic neighborhoods, your poor neighborhoods, which are often but not always the same. You got your gated communities where every place has a pool if not a freaking mansion. You've got a batch of sky scrappers down town and in the financial district but it flattens out fast outside of them.  A few parks of green, one you do not go out at night if you're a norm, the other quite nice 24/7. There's the college districts, a theater / cultural district, a few malls on shaky grounds, and some pretty decent restaurants scattered through out. We're the only Superteam in the city, but there are one or two independents. You may run into them. Watch out for Bloodwatch, he's a psychopath."
 
"Bloodwatch?" I blinked.
 
"Man does not know the 90s are over," Pinprick answered, "Vigilante type. Carries a big gun."
 
"He shoots people? " I blurted before I thought it through.
 
"No, genius, he caresses them, tenderly," Pinprick snorted, "Yes, what part of psychopath with gun don't you get? He's a wanted man for his bull#### judge jury and executioner crap.
 
I flushed a bit at the jibe , though I guess I couldn't blame him for it completely,  "Why haven't you guys caught him yet?"
 
"First, he doesn't exactly hang around. Second, we did ... more than once. He's escaped. He's a nutbar, but he is an extremely talented nutbar and there's a segment of the population that cheers him on," Pinprick frowned, "He makes it sound easy and clear cut; people like easy and clear cut. It means they don't have to think as much. Last time we think a prison guard helped him slip out. We can't prove it," His tone was frustrated.
 
I decided to change the subject, "So.. how did you get to be?" I brought one hand down closer to the other in a reducing motion.
 
"Part of the Smurf Village?" He raised a brow.
 
"Uhm, yeah," I answered, "Just curious."
 
"You're going to get really bored with origin stories around here after about the third one, trust me," Pinprick said, "But I'll give you the Reader's Digest version: Don't go drinking around mushroom rings if you ever take a vacation in certain parts of Europe."
 
"Fairies?" I sputtered.
 
"Yup. At least, I think it was. Mostly I remember waking up with a splitting hang over after a black out you wouldn't believe. I was wearing this get up, this magic bow and quiver which never seem to run out of arrows, and had a tune of hunting horns that I couldn't get out of my head for a week. I figure...fairies."
 
"But you don't really know because it's all a blur?" I clarified.
 
Pinprick pointed at me, "Hey kid, the amnesic tough guy is a staple of song and legend."
 
"But, from drinking? That's more a staple of frat parties."
 
"Sigma Pi, mother####er!" He mimed chugging a beer.
 
I guess I blinked and stared at him a bit too long because he followed it up with a shake of his head, "Relax, Fish Guy, I'm yanking your chain."
 
"Ah, so the fairy tale thing was made up..."
 
"Are you kidding? No that part's real, I think.... I was just never part of a frat. You know," He observed, "You're going to need to lighten up a little if we're going to work together."
 
"Sorry, still finding my feet and hoping I'm not going to get kicked out because I'm not an Atlantean on my mother's side or anything," I looked out the window again. Mabel had been giving us something of a guided tour, "Where's the headquarters for the New Samaritans anyway?"
 
"We're almost there, Tiger," Mabel purred, catching me off guard. I wasn't used to a flying car, let alone one that sounded like torch singer. We moved over a large parking area that had been sealed off and towards a ....
 
"Is that a mall?" I inquired  surprised. It sure looked like a mall, heck, there was even a faded sign.
 
"It was a mall," Pinprick clarified, "It closed. One of us bought it, converted it, and now it's a base with loads of room, plenty of safe space around it where nothing but parking spaces and lamp posts get hurt if some villain finds out where we are and attacks. And the inside looks so much better than the out. Trust me, you're going  to love it."
 
The heavily tinted skylight split open, and we lowered down into the base. You could tell it had been a mall, sure, the layout was the same. But the tiles and patterns had been shifted. It was like a mix between Byzantium styles and the interior of the Enterprise D;  and they managed to do it without being garish. Mabel opened the doors to let us out, and I stepped out onto the spiral designed floor and I couldn't help it.
 
"Wow," I said louder than I intended, and my voice echoed. Did you ever notice how when you really want a good word to express wonder, you're too caught up in the wonder to use it? Yeah, I have a vocabulary, I swear. It's just, at that moment, it had failed me. Guiding sci fi lights flickered between ancient designs. A half dozen drones, made of high tech plastic so they almost appeared to be glass, were paroling down the length of the floors. Now that the skylight was sealed, I glanced up to feel the light pour through in a prism like pattern. I guess somehow it was more tinted from the outside than the inside because the sun was gloriously bright if somewhat diffused as if going through a million clear rain drops.
 
"Glad you approve," The response was warm, older, genuinely pleased. I turned to pay my respects and was once again surprised. I wasn't surprised to see a woman in her sixties, or that she was African American. Lady Obsidian may have worn powered armor from the start, but she'd never hidden her sex or race from anyone. Indeed, she was quite the civil rights Icon to some though a few thought she should have done more. I was more startled at how classy, even down right attractive she still looked at her age. It wasn't a matter of looking that much younger, it's just she appeared to be one of those lucky women who had not only stayed in great shape, but time had decided to refine rather than wither. She wasn't wearing her namesake hued power armor but instead was layered in a shear indoor kind of jacket of light blues over a darker blue blouse. She had been outed some time ago, her secret Identity was Vivian Vernon (Yeah, more heroes were alliterative back then), Doctor Vernon actually, as she had more PHDs than any five cans of alphabet soup put together, but to many of us, she'd always be...
 
"Lady Obsidian," I gave a nod of respect, "Ma'am, it's nice to meet you. I'm a big fan."
 
Pinprick rolled his eyes at the 'ma'am' but at least he wasn't calling me a kiss ass, "Boss, Fish Guy. Fish Guy? Lady Obsidian aka Doctor Vernon."
 
"Please, call me Vivian, young man," she motioned me to start following, "Lady Obsidian: You know why I first took that title?"
 
"Civil Rights movement was strong in play," I answered, "Your armor was still in its early stages, but you wanted folks to know you were a woman and African American. Your autobiography also stated you had grown up listening to your father, a man you admired, getting called 'Boy' by people half his age. You decided you'd take a title that would include an element of respect."
 
"You read my autobiography?" She was surprised and perhaps a bit pleased.
 
"I like history," I started to explain, "You know, the stories from way back when are so rich and complex. I mean, supers in those days were the real pioneers and they were so often zeitgeists for their times. I..." It took me a moment to realize my mouth had run off, leaving some filter in my brain to chase after screaming 'wait, stop... it needs a rewrite'.
 
A slim brow rose on her still lovely face, "History...way back when? My time... mmmmm. Do go on."
 
I am not a complete idiot. My brain finally tackled my mouth to the ground, and it sank into me how what I said might have been taken. Finally, I managed, "I'm really not sure I should. Go on that is."
 
"How's that size 12 tasting, Fish Guy?" Pinprick stage whispered.
 
"Size ten actually," I shrugged.
 
"Well aren't we petite?" the six inch archer smirked.
 
A smile crawled across Dr. Vernon's face , perhaps in spite of herself, "Leave him alone, Pinprick. We need a little enthusiasm on this team. Poise? Poise will come later, won't it young man?"
 
"Yes, ma'am," I assured her, "Lots of poise."
 
"That said, you might want to get some tips from our public relations specialist before you start talking to the press," She advised leading me further on, "Especially if we have you being our spokesman to any unruly Atlanteans..."
 
I winced.
 
Pinprick coughed and then spoke up, "Boss? About that Atlantis thing...." and then he filled her in. Within moments, she was told that not only was I not Atlantean in any way, shape, or form, I had not even believed it was real until now and if they had taken me in because of that, well, they were in for a world of disappointment.
 
"Well," the older woman frowned, "I guess that's the problem with assumptions. It makes an ass out of you and me."
 
"I'm sorry," I explained, "I had no idea this was such a common expectation... I'm hoping you're not going to kick me out right away, I have stuff being mailed here as we speak and a hotel for a week that I can't cancel..."
 
She held up a hand, "Young man, don't be silly. You are welcome here, if you've got the stuff and you're willing to do the work, and the fault of this misunderstanding is more ours than yours. If you can do right by our rules and look out for us, we'll look out for you. You may not be the Fish Guy we expected, but you are the Fish Guy on our team, and the New Samaritans look after their own."
 
Relief filled me, "Thank you so much, I mean it I.." Another thought occurred, "But it's Eel, not Fish Guy?" With Pinprick I was more firm, maybe even snappy, but with an icon like her? I think I came across as more pleading, or maybe even wheedling.
 
"I'll try to remember that, though you know us relics... so forgetful," A quirk of her lip "Follow me, there are other team mates who will want to meet you."
 
I hung my head and followed. Oh yeah, this Fish Guy bit was not going away anywhere near soon enough.

This is an experiment to get my ass writing again. Whether I will ever actually use this in a published work or not remains to be seen, but I need to get myself motivated and I figure trying a bit of writing here might help. This will be the roughest of Rough Drafts. I Hope folks enjoy. I'll try to write at least a paragraph each day.
 
 
Let me tell you something about superhero costumes; they work best in certain situations. Most of us, superheroes that is, are in good physical shape. Even if your powers aren't physical in nature, you end up dodging, chasing (or fleeing), punching now and then, and generally working up a sweat just to get by. Some of us are blessed with super metabolisms and a natural physique we don't even have to work at, sure, but for most it's a matter of survival to get into shape. If you're wheezing within five minutes of a fight- you may die. And we've all heard stories of well intentioned wanna-bes who tried to pull someone from a burning building or other danger, only to find they didn't have the upper arm strength. We are not, contrary to what you might see in comic books, all runway models, ballet dancers, or power lifters in build, but we are fit.  And from the point of vanity? Thank goodness, or we might look even more ridiculous than we already do. Costumes are best in motion, or shadow. In motion, we are blurs of color coming to rescue you. We are brightly lit beacons of hope to stand against dark clad denizens of dastardly deeds yadda yadda. Motion can demonstrate power: it forces the observer's eye to grade by speed and grace rather than registering 'is that a grown man in tights'? Shadows keep you from looking garish, they dim the flaws in the stitching if you have any. There's an element of mystery. There's a reason candles are aids in romance; low lighting is a cheap beauty enhancement for the homeliest guy or gal.
 
Now, my outfit? I think it's pretty good. Essentially it's a glorified sleeveless wetsuit of green so dark it's nearly black with regular green highlights. Yes, I know I just made a comment about bright colors earlier, but dark colors are the refuge of the body conscious and that is not likely to change. Besides, the darker green background makes those lighter highlights really pop. Of course, there are added touches beyond that. Gloves and foot wear that adapt when I'm in water, a mask that is a mix of the same material as the wetsuit melded with some goggles, slightly tinted.  I keep my hair short, many swimmers do. And, of course, there's the Eel on my chest. It probably looks like a high school mascot logo to some, but it's definitely an Eel, and as Eel is my superhero handle, that's probably a good thing.
 
Why am I going on about my costume and costumes in general? Because I'm not in motion. I'm standing at a bus station feeling like a weirdo. And that's despite having sat next to some bearded guy in a fedora and a Hawaiian shirt who kept singing Saturday morning jingles the whole trip and then every five minutes muttering "No, you be quiet."
 
But no, it's me the crowds are looking at now that I've gotten off the bus and am waiting for my ride from my soon to be new team. One woman is pulling her little boy away from me slowly and shooing him behind her. Great. Two teen guys are snickering and making comments about what they believe to be my sexual orientation. Well, that's open minded. I thought things in the big city would be a bit more tolerant. Then again, the teenage years are that sweet period of time where, if there is a selfish gene, it's getting amped up to the proverbial eleven. Who wasn't a bit of a jerk at some time in their teen years?
 
"I'm a superhero," I explain to them, "My name's Eel. I'm be joining the New Samaritans. Happy to be here in Costa Sagrado"
 
The two teenagers exchanged looks, then snickered, "What ever, butt muncher," One, wearing a t-shirt with a rude gestured stuck his jaw out as if waiting for me to try something about it. I sighed and tried to ignore him, while the teen and his friend chalked it up to be a win in the 'how jerkass can we be without someone putting us in line' test that is their phase in life.
 
Really, what am I going to do?  Chuck them into into the sun? First, no can do. Second, that would be murder. Third, people already think superheroes handle every problem with violence and I'm not about to live down to their expectations. Don't get me wrong, I am super strong. I could certainly grab both, leap to the top of the second story building of the bus station and leave them there to contemplate some manners - all in one smooth motion. Hell, I can punch through steel. But, like the man said, with great power comes ...insert copyright infringement risk.
 
Superheroes need to be better than that. We need to understanding, tolerant, and polite. We should show that humility is not weakness and courtesy is not lost. We need....
 
"You the Fish Guy?" A voice piped up, "Sure as hell hope you're the Fish Guy. Because I'm late to pick him up," The voice was male, with an impatient tone. I searched the crowd searching for the source.
 
It took me a moment, mostly because I wasn't looking down.
 
About four feet away was a six inch tall man with a proportionally sized bow and quiver filled with tiny arrows. Of course, he had a costume, one of blue peasant shirt and green breaches but honestly, the detail I noticed was that he was six inches tall.
 
"I..." I blathered for a moment, I admit it, I'm not the most experienced superhero. Not counting a rather humiliating beat down from a villain team, I've fought just one supervillain, and really ruined a drug cartel's day, mostly I helped with rescue and recovery, "Yeah, that's me. You're with the New Samaritans?"
 
"Yep," He noticed my mouth was still open, "Careful, Fish Guy, someone's gonna put a hook in that. What's the matter? Never seen a costumed archer in this business? A third of the super teams in America have one, the other two thirds suck. My handle's Pinprick. Some folks only use half of that," he smirked.
 
"Well, yes I've seen... just never heard..." This was getting out of hand, "Sorry for staring. Oh, it's not Fish Guy, it's Eel."
 
"Whatever you think will fit on a cereal box, sport," The diminutive archer said, "Follow me, the vehicle is waiting to fly us to the base." He noticed the two teenagers. If they had been snickering at me, they were outright laughing at him. Jokes about him being just 'right sized' as a sex toy were crudely made. My brows knit. I guess I'm worried weird. Give me crap, and I guess I'll take it. Give someone else crap? And I get a bit guarded.
 
"Pardon me, please, you're blocking my way," I said politely to them.
 
"Your way to your boyfriend? " One snickered, "Does he fit up your..." before the comment could finish, Pinprick's tiny hands drew an arrow and fired in a motion so fast I almost didn't see it. The needle sized arrow stuck into the obnoxious teenager's shoulder. Right in front of my eyes, the teenager dwindled, collapsing shorter and shorter until he actually a bit smaller than Pinprick himself, and terrified looking.
 
Not that his friend wasn't freaked out too, "Victor!"
 
Pinprick drew another arrow and looked at the still unshrunken one, "Now, are you going to move or do I need to make is so Fish Guy can step over you too?"
 
"Jesus!" The still normal sized teenager retorted, moving to the side as if expecting a cobra bite. Victor, his now five and a half inch tall friend was running in circles in a panic.
 
I was appalled, "You can't do that to people."
 
"Just did, come on, it won't last forever," Pinprick said and began to walk away from the bus station, presumably towards whatever team vehicle awaited, "He'll be fine. I just cut him down to size- literally. If you want to get technical about it, they were making a public disturbance, nuisance, and loitering. Pick One. One the less legal mumbo jumbo side of things, nobody but me gives my team mates hell. C'mon Fish Guy, you're part of the asylum now."
 
I followed, calling back to the diminished Victor and his friend who had recovered enough to lift his friend up like an action figure, "He says it's temporary." but I kept going after, "I can take care of myself."
 
"If that was the case you wouldn't be doing the strength in numbers thing, relax, Fish Guy. Like I said, I got the timer set on ten," Pinprick shook his head, "Frankly, ocean front city or not, I'm not sure we needed a Fish Guy, but you have a great record in rescue , got the super strength bullet proof thing going, and we're short a muscle man. I can't tell you how much your connections with Atlantis are going to help us out if we do get some water guys invading."
 
"Ah," I paused, "I'm not from Atlantis."
 
"Yeah yeah, sure, you're from one of the Carolinas.." He shrugged as if they were interchangeable , "But I mean heritage. Mother or Father's side?"
 
"Neither side," I said, "I've got some Scott-Irish I can trace, my grandmother said her grand mother was Cherokee, but other than that I'm just your standard white guy," I tilted my head, "You're pulling my leg about Atlantis, right? It's not like that 's real?"
 
We had arrived at a hovercar. I knew it was a hover car because -look ma, no wheels. Any other time I'd have been more suitably amazed. But I was still hoping that I was getting a new guy hazing here.
 
"You don't know about Atlantis?" Pinprick winced, "Tell me you can at least talk to fish?"
 
"Yeah," I said nodding, "I can talk to fish... "
 
"Great, at least you can calm their battle beasts down if they... " He started to say
 
 "Like you can talk to your hamburger," I finished, "Does your hamburger talk back? Because my fillet never did."
 
Pinprick put his face in his palms, "But your resume said you were an aquatic hero."
 
"Yeah, I can breath underwater, go down to depths that would crush most people, see in lower light easily, a few other tricks.. but I don't talk to fish. That's... weird."
 
The door opened on the passenger side and Pinprick shook his head again, "Just.. just get in the car, Fish Guy."
 
"It's Eel," I said irritated, and also a bit worried that I was about to have my membership revoked pretty darn quick, "I'm not Fish Guy."
 
"Yeah, no kidding!" He said getting into the driver's seat, "Doesn't know about Atlantis or any of the other under sea kingdoms, doesn't talk to Fish... hell, you don't even carry a trident," Disgusted, Pinprick spoke to the car, "Take us home, Mabel."
 
A husky female voice emanated from the car, "Right away, Tiger... "
 
And the sultry voiced vehicle shot up into the sky vertically like an elevator on steroids.
 
About fifty feet up, I finally found the focus to ask, "Wait,  other undersea kingdoms?"
 
(To be continued?)

Poor Edwin Jarvis. Forty years of loyal comic-book service, then his job is cut due to automation.

To clarify, Thanos was created by Jim Starlin, who IIRC acknowledged he was inspired by Darkseid. Starlin's original conception of the Titans (i.e. the inhabitants of Saturn's moon Titan) was that they were an offshoot of the Olympian gods, A'lars/Mentor being a brother of Zeus.
 
Jack Kirby's run on the Eternals title never directly connected his creations to the greater Marvel Universe. When the subsequent editorial decision was made to bring them into the mainstream universe (IIRC first in the pages of Thor's comic), the Titans were retconned as being kin to the Eternals, with A'lars made the brother of the Prime Eternal, Zuras.

I don't know if this counts for this thread, but as long as we have the Lone Rangers Creed....
 
 
Doc Savage
 
Let me strive, every moment of my life to make myself better and better, to the best of my ability, that all may profit from it. “Let me think of the right, and lend my assistance to those who need it with no regard for anything but justice. “Let me take what comes with a smile, without loss of courage. “Let me be considerate of my country, of my fellow citizens, and my associates in everything I say and do. “Let me do right to all, and wrong no man.”
 
The Phantom
 
"I swear to devote my life to the destruction of piracy, greed, and cruelty, in all their forms, and my sons and their sons, shall follow me."

Truths for heroes of all ages, by one of the best ever--
 
The Lone Ranger Creed
 


 
I believe that to have a friend, a man must be one. That all men are created equal and that everyone has within himself the power to make this a better world. That God put the firewood there, but that every man must gather and light it himself. In being prepared physically, mentally, and morally to fight when necessary for that which is right. That a man should make the most of what equipment he has. That “this government, of the people, by the people, and for the people,” shall live always. That men should live by the rule of what is best for the greatest number. That sooner or later…somewhere…somehow…we must settle with the world and make payment for what we have taken. That all things change, but the truth, and the truth alone lives on forever. I believe in my Creator, my country, my fellow man.

"What happened after Androcles removed the thorn from the lion's paw?"
 
"The lion became his BFF, they hung out all the time."
 
"And then they got married...."
 
"No, they didn't!"

Friend: "Miss Cleo died the other day."
Me: "The psychic from TV in the 90s etc?"
Friend: "Yup."
Me: "Wow...sad...." *pause* "Do you think she saw it coming?"
Friend: *Laugh slips out, quickly replaced by tutorial glare*

Student: "I notice that you've been getting more sassy with our class. Is that because you're starting to feel more comfortable with us, or because you're just getting tired of our bullcrap?"
 
Me: "The two are not mutually exclusive."

https://imgur.com/gallery/Xd3Wf
 
Some Kevin Matchstick Cosplay, 2 more pics in Gallery

Alex Ross, doing what he does best--
 

Quotes (Part 1) from my Champions campaign, Stronghold Corrupted adventure:
 
The news for the week had an article about members of Just Cause going to Stronghold to observe and assist in the exorcism of Necroma, one of the Corrupted supervillain group.  (This was originally a group of a dozen missionaries in Nicaragua who had been kidnapped by cultists who then summoned evil spirits to possess the missionaries' bodies.  The heroes know this.)  I didn't actually run the exorcism before giving them the news sheets.
 
Malarky:  Did I miss something?
GM:  No, I'm going to start with the exorcism itself.
Malarky:  Well, at least we know up front that it worked.
 
Discussing travel plans:
 
GM:  (to Pops)  So, you're going to teleport everyone to Stronghold?
Malarky:  Even Maker?
Pops:  That's right.  She keeps messing with the teleport.
Maker:  What?  No, I'm not!  That was some villain doing it.
Pops:  No, I can tell it's coming from you.  You'll have to take a bus to New Mexico.
Malarky:  Yeah, you've got Teleport Herpes.
 
Since they have a few days beforehand, Pops and Maker decide to first try tracking down what is causing Maker to misdirect Pops' long distance teleport.  Maker builds a device to scan for energy effects that occur during teleportation, and they test it out.
 
GM:  How far are you teleporting?
Pops:  Just a few kilometers.
GM:  Okay.  (has Maker roll 3d6)  Pops, you end up where you targeted.  Maker, you have to kick on her flight so you don't fall into the Charles River.
 
Another test.
 
GM:  Again, Pops ends up where he targeted.  Maker finds herself inside a self-storage unit in Cambridge.
Shadowboxer:  The important question is, did you pay your monthly rental fee?
Maker:  It's not my storage unit!
Pops:  I think next time I'll try teleporting across the country, see which state she ends up in.
 
The particular energy signatures pinned down, Maker learns that not only is she kicking out this energy -- so is her costume, gadgets, even her entire lab.
 
Maker:  Is there anything I can do to get rid of this energy?
GM:  You can build something to remove the taint, as it were.  It'll take about five minutes to scrub you and your costume clean.  However, you notice that a little while after doing so, you begin accumulating that energy again, slow but sure.
Pops:  All I know is, when I leave her lab, I'm taking a long, hot shower.
 
After a few days fruitless searching (and some really bad skill rolls), Maker finally determines that the broadcast energy from the bots she stole liberated from VIPER is causing the energy taint.
 
Malarky:  Looks like someone got pissed that you keep stealing their stuff.
Maker:  What?  I only have two!
GM:  More like five.
Maker:  No, I have one old flyer bot, and one new one.  Remember, the other new flyer bot got trashed by DEMON agents at the mall.
GM:  And the flyer bot you sent to the Cross-Rip dimension that never came back.
Shadowboxer:  Plus the Johnny Five [roller bot].
GM:  And however many lab bots you took from that raid on the VIPER lab.
Maker:  (sulks)
 
After shutting down the broadcast energy and complete scrubbing, they try another teleport test.
 
GM:  (to Maker)  Okay, make another 3d6 roll.
Maker:  You've got to be kidding me!
GM:  Yep.  Just messing with you.  The teleport works fine.
 
The heroes travel to Stronghold, and I hand them some printed info about the superprison as well as maps copied from the Stronghold sourcebook.
 
Nexus:  (sarcastic)  Yeah, nothing's going to go wrong here. 
GM:  What?  The article says everything went fine!  (pause)  Should I pull out the hexmap of the area where they're doing the exorcism?
Nexus:  Did you make one?
GM:  Maaaaaybe.  (grins)  So, the deputy warden says that they'll either need to shut off the power negation systems there or do this on the rooftop, since they're not sure if the power suppression would interfere with the exorcism.
Malarky:  Shut off power negation throughout the prison?!
GM:  No, just on Level 6 of Main Security.
Malarky:  Well, that's okay then.
 
Circe's player wasn't there yesterday, so there's some discussion on what the team mentalist will be doing.
 
GM:  Would Circe be using telepathy on Necroma during the exorcism?  Y'know, to make sure the spirit really does leave her?
Malarky:  (heavy sarcasm)  Yeah, be mentally linked to the possessed person when the evil spirit is forced out of that body, with nowhere to go.  Can't see how that could go bad.
Shadowboxer:  That's the price you pay for not coming to the game.
 
Despite that, we decide she will only establish telepathy after the exorcism is done.  They're introduced to the priest, Father Joseph Bainbridge, who will perform the exorcism.
 
Maker:  Wait, Bainbridge?  Don't we know him?
GM:  If so, it's a complete coincidence, because when I typed my notes for the game earlier today I just opened this random name generator booklet you gave me and (closes eyes, opens booklet to a random page, jabs finger at the page, and opens eyes)  ...Joseph... (closes eyes again, jabs finger elsewhere on another page) ... Bainbridge!
 
Malarky watches the exorcism (ceremony?  ritual?  not sure what term to use) from the POV of the student of magic he is.
 
GM:  The exorcism itself takes about 20-30 minutes, lots of prayers and statements in Latin, use of holy water and blessed incense, what have you.    Malarky notes the various places throughout where he recognizes actual magical elements, with a fair amount of strictly religious elements that he's not sure are absolutely necessary.
Malarky:  Could I trim it down if necessary?
GM:  You could maybe do a short version in 3-4 minutes. 
Honey Badger:  (quoting from Spaceballs)  Right!  The short, SHORT version!  Do you?  Yes!  Do you?  Yes!  Good, you're married!  Kiss her!
 
Contrary to the players' paranoid expectations, the exorcism goes off without a hitch and is successful.  Circe telepathically confirms that the former missionary (Lydia Chavez) is free from possession.  However, all is not sunshine and roses...
Circe:  (through Mind Link to teammates)  That girl is seriously messed up.  All the things she was forced to witness and remembers doing while she was possessed...  she's extremely depressed, borderline suicidal.
Lydia:  (to Circe) Please, is there anything you can do, take away those memories?  I'd rather not remember any of that, ever.
Circe:  I'm sorry, dear, that's not in my wheelhouse.  Yet.
Pops:  But she's working on it.
 
The heroes are discussing finding the other items to allow them to exorcise the rest of the Corrupted, and the staff psychologist at Stronghold has a suggestion.
 
Dr. Crawford:  (to Circe) Is it possible Lydia could provide you information, from her memories of the time she was possessed, to tell you where the items were hidden?  Or failing that, info that could help you locate the cultists, so they can tell you where to find the items?  Having her actively helping free her fellow missionaries might help her get past the things she did while possessed.  And you could telepathically help her come to grips with things along the way.  (OOC)  This is the GM's heavy-handed way of having Circe not be a direct part of this adventure, but still helping move the plot along.
Pops:  Circe, going down to Nicaragua by herself?
GM:  Well, the two UNTIL agents that brought the tainted first aid kit needed for Necroma's exorcism will agree to accompany her.
Malarky:  Two random UNTIL agents? 
GM:  No, Lt. Truxillo and Sgt. Ishada.  [note:  these were GM-supplied characters played by Shadowboxer's and Maker's players the week before].
Malarky:  Oh, that's okay then.  They're good.
GM:  Plus, she'll maintain the Mind Link with the other Just Cause members.  If she gets into trouble, you can always "Pops" down there and lend a hand.
Pops:  If I'm not too busy with that cellular regeneration project.
 
After arriving in Nicaragua, Circe reports on her progress.
 
Circe:  We've located where the initial possession ritual was done.  (pause)  The Nicaraguan federales have a refreshingly accepting view of using mental powers on suspected cultists.
 
(to be continued)