Part Seven

The second of the protest rallies was held just four days later, starting late the next Tuesday afternoon. This one promised to be significantly larger than the first. Part of the reason for the size increase was the success of the first as an event. Part of the reason was the failure of anyone in political power to give even a believable appearance of doing something useful to address the problems the first rally had pointed out. Again, Vic and her boss and some of the FBI agents were present. This time, unfortunately, the Bureau of Special Resources supers from Chicago were not available. Which may have had something to do with that happened about an hour and a half along, once night was fully underway.

Vic was walking around the periphery of the large group of citizens, barely listening to the current speaker, not really paying attention to what was happening on the stage. She was bored to the point of lethargy. Not because there weren't good points being made, but because it was all being phrased as political jargon. She had almost reached Drake - he was standing in the well-lit area where local law enforcement had their on-scene command center - when there was some sort of disturbance at the makeshift stage where the speakers stood to address the crowd.

"Hey!" a woman shouted over the PA. "If you idiots want to feel safe, well... You're not!"

Vic thought the voice sounded familiar. However, the source was a mystery. Looking at the stage, she saw that those standing there - including the man at the mic - were as confused as she was.

"You're all a bunch of sheep, just waiting to be sheared! Or slaughtered for a nice rack of lamb!"

"Oh, no..." said Vic, aloud, as she finally placed the voice. "Dare!"

The woman's voice continued, mocking those participating in the demonstration, the police, the city's administration, even the super drive-by black SUV attackers who were ostensibly the reason for the rally. Meanwhile, Vic found her boss and informed him of her suspicion.

"Yeah, I'd come to the same conclusion," said Drake, almost snarling.

He was with Captain Markle, who was in charge of security here. The Captain had a similar reaction. He spoke to several of his aides.

"That's about the last thing we need, is her stirring things around. Find her and arrest her for creating a disturbance!"

Vic then joined the other feds and some of the city police providing security for the event in a frantic search for whoever it was who had usurped the PA system.

They found her - or, rather, she revealed her location - when a couple of technicians decided to check the wiring under the stage. There was a sudden interruption of Dare's rant. Then both techs came flying out, hurled by a superhuman force. Realizing the jig was up, Dare burst through the flooring of the platform.

"Hello!" she shouted, grinning manically as she jumped onto the stage, knocking several people down as her bizarre, snugly fitting thin leather costume threatened to slip out of place but somehow didn't. "Goodbye!"

She leapt for the horizontal bar of a traffic signal, obviously intending to use that to swing further down the street. This intent was interrupted by a thrown hanbo, which struck across the backs of her hands just as she reached for the bar. With her hands momentarily stunned, she dropped - rather gracelessly but landing on her feet - to the pavement. Vic was already running towards her.

"Sorry, kid," said Dare, still smiling, "I've got an appointment elsewhere."

She blurred to one side and grabbed a manhole cover. This she then flipped towards an ambulance, which was surrounded by paramedics, police officers and civilians.

Vic frantically lunged in front of the massive, cast iron disc, hoping her armor would protect her. It did, mostly, though both it and Vic took some damage. Fortunately, the worst of the damage to Vic consisted of having the wind knocked out or her. By the time she was recovered enough to sit up, there were already three paramedics working on her.

"I'm not badly hurt, and I have regeneration," she said, pushing them away. "Did anyone see which way Dare went?"

Several people had. Unfortunately, they all gave different directions for her escape into the night. Vic sighed, and rather gingerly got to her feet. By that time her boss was there.

"Here's your stick," he said, handing it to her.

"Hanbo," said Vic, reflexively. She put the "stick" away and stretched, gingerly. "I'm really glad I'm wearing this instead of that stuff whatsisname tried to foist off on me. It might have offered a little more protection - or not - but I wouldn't have been able intercept that cover wearing that stiffer rig."

"You sure you're not seriously injured?" said Drake, concerned. "Your armor looks like shit."

"Yeah. It did its job, though. I'm also glad I have spares for all this, thanks to the Bureau."

"I think the excitement is over for the day," said Drake, looking around and noting that the demonstrators were leaving. "Let's get back to headquarters and find those spare parts. I have a feeling you'll be needing them."

"Probably not tonight," said Vic, with a sigh. "Though, yeah, eventually. Soon, most likely. Might as well be ready."

* * *

Vic called Michelle even as she and Drake were walking to his car. As he had for the previous demonstration, Drake had given Vic a ride to save parking spaces. Also, he was using a marked federal government car, which tended to get more respect than Vic's unmarked wagon. Even when it was recognized.

On the way, Vic made a phone call, feeling relieved that her Bureau-issue brilliant phone was undamaged.

"Are you sure you're all right?" said Michelle, concerned, after her wife's initial assurances and some exchange of basic information. "The TV didn't show anything useful, or even change view, after Dare left the stage."

Vic remembered that a local public access channel had been set aside to cover the protests. Apparently, the volunteers running the cameras had abandoned their jobs when Dare burst through the stage. Which she felt was understandable.

"Yeah, a bit banged up but nothing serious. The good news is that the protest is breaking up early because of this disturbance so I'll be home a bit earlier than expected."

"I'll make sure of that," said Drake, loudly enough for Michelle to hear. "I'll also make sure she gets hazard pay for this entire day. She probably saved a bunch of lives."

"I'm just glad you're all right," said Michelle. "Love you!"

"Love you," said Vic. She put her phone away and looked at her boss. "Do I have official permission to call in some favors tomorrow, and see who I can get here in time for the next demonstration?"

"Definitely."

"Good. I think I can get at least Tricorne, and maybe some or all of the Assembly."

"Go for it. I'll clear it with the city."

* * *

The next day Drake had a pair of visitors at his office. They obviously didn't like each other, which was understandable, since one was from the Mayor's office and the other was one of the organizers of the demonstrations. However, they were united in one thing: They didn't want any federal agents at the next demonstration.

"All you did was provoke her!" snapped the organizer.

"Dare almost certainly didn't know we were there before my agent acted," said Drake, patiently. "We were keeping a very low profile."

"Doesn't matter," said the suit from the city. "She pulled a harmless prank and was leaving when your pet super tried to stop her. If he had just let the woman go it would all be over. Instead, Dare almost killed dozens."

"Dare assaulted two technicians," said Drake, pointedly, absently noting the pronoun error in regard to Vic. "One of whom will be in the hospital for weeks, then require months of physical therapy. My agent was trying to arrest her for that. To state it plainly: Dare committed a pair of felonies before my agent intervened."

He had the distinct impression that the injuries to the sound techs were news to both men. Or perhaps had simply escaped their notice. After all, none of their people had been hurt. Both remained adamant in their demands that Drake and his people (they apparently thought he was also head of the local FBI) stay away from the next protest. Fortunately, the person representing the demonstrators had no authority to back his demands, and the city suit refused to place the city's demands on the record.

Drake told them that unless he was so informed by his own boss - Brade - or the Chief of Police or someone officially speaking for him or the city government, that the federal presence at the protests would continue.

"If only so that we won't be accused later of ignoring the situation."

The two men left, both unhappy. Not that Drake was in a much better mood than either of them. Still, he felt his duty required him to have people at the demonstrations.

* * *

That same day, there were people in other places who were also unhappy. One of them was Randal Devon. He was sitting in his home office, scowling at his computer display, when his wife came in to check on him.

"What's wrong, now?" said Karen, a bit tired of her husband's traditional pre-school histrionics.

"The Island administration has a request to accept a new problem student," said Randy, sounding very tired. "This isn't your usual case of a rogue super kid who is in trouble with the law. Not that this guy isn't. No, he's... like an extreme version of the typical gadgeteer or maybe mastermind. No social awareness whatsoever and a complete unwillingness to consider the effects of his projects on other people or property. Even after the fact. His parents are facing bankruptcy because their insurance refuses to cover the boy any longer and they - both the parents and the insurance companies - keep getting sued over his 'experiments.' He's had multiple charges against him, which keep getting thrown out because the boy is demonstrably not, well, socially competent. So there are also court costs - including settlements with people and businesses he's harmed - and bills for therapy, which hasn't helped him much, and a lot more. Part of the problem is that he's so smart - if incapable of self-restraint - that he's almost impossible to control."

"What's he done that's so bad?" said Karen, starting to share he husband's alarm.

"For one of his 'experiments' he dumped an entire box of various sized super-hard, super-bouncy rubber balls at the top of a staircase in the second tallest building in his city."

There was a moment of silence. Then Karen burst out laughing.

"Yeah, it sounds funny," said Randy, who couldn't help grinning despite his words. "However, by the time the balls got a few floors down they already had enough energy to cause damage. Lights were broken, doors dented, people injured. One of the emergency sprinklers was actuated, which caused a fire alarm. Guess what happened to the people who tried to evacuate down that stairway?"

"S...stop..." gasped Karen, leaning weakly on the edge of Randy's desk. "Oh, God..."

"Anyway, the parents can't find an appropriate facility to take care of him, and probably couldn't afford it if they could. So they worked out a deal. If the island accepts him the federal government and the family's city will pay most of the costs. On the surface this seems ideal, since we have a school for supers - which is used to handling gadgeteers and masterminds - and the super hospital, which may be able to find effective treatments for him, and the super care center, if they can't."

"Only, he's such an extreme liability..." said Karen, sobering and nodding.

"Yeah..."

Randy heaved a great sigh.

"Yeah, I think I'm going to recommend we take this kid. Maybe we can help him."

"I hope so, honey," said Karen. She looked at her husband. "This does tend to put Roy's actions into better perspective."

"That it does."

* * *

Special Agent in Charge Drake smiled in satisfaction as he saw Tricorne and over half of the Assembly arrive in their respective flyers early Thursday afternoon. Vic had informed him of the latter team's recent acquisition of an apergy flyer similar to those used by Tricorne for the past few years. Drake was a bit surprised at how different in appearance - overall shape as well as size - the two silent vehicles were. Both, however, were alike in the way they settled gracefully into the spaces provided.

"I wonder when we can get one of those," Drake said, wistfully.

"Problem is," said Vic, "they are not commercially available yet. Maybe in a few years. For now, each one is built from scratch. Very expensive scratch, at that. Keep in mind that super teams had hypersonic and suborbital vehicles decades before even most militaries did."

Drake greeted the eight costumed supers, Vic close behind him. He took a moment to note how different the costumes were, not just in result but in the intent behind them. Drake had just started telling them the plan for their deployment, when a uniformed city police officer came hurrying up and handed him a message. He read it and scowled.

"Vic, can you finish the briefing? I need to go talk to the local police."

"Sure, boss," said the martial artist, grinning. She turned towards the other supers. "Okay, we're all here strictly to observe and show the mask; or helmet, in my case. Hopefully to intimidate any troublemakers into reconsidering..."

* * *

Drake's scowl deepened as he left the briefing in Vic's capable hands. Even before he could deploy his super assets, he was being summoned to the presence of the police captain in charge of security for the event. Drake knew Markle to normally be a reasonable man. Which gave the head of the local branch of the Bureau of Special Resources good reason to suspect that the trouble was actually coming down from the city administration.

"People with masks must either unmask or leave," said Captain Markle, without preamble, when Drake arrived. That the Captain didn't like delivering this message was obvious. "Your people are driving our facial recognition software crazy!"

"You do know that's the entire point of them wearing masks, right?" said Drake, dryly, to the Captain. "They don't want the government knowing who they are."

"Sorry," said the Captain, who was well aware of the spuriousness of the reason being presented. "Orders. Direct from the Chief."

Special Agent in Charge Bruno Drake sighed, and pulled out his Bureau-issue brilliant phone. He needed several minutes to actually connect with Soviren. Very much not to his surprise, the Chief was currently in the elaborate police "War Room" he had been instrumental in establishing a few months before. He was currently there to monitor the situation at the demonstration. Finally, Drake got through.

"There was no problem with you agreeing to my suggestion to bring in supers to help with security ahead of time," he said, after explaining the reason for the call. "Why now?"

"You didn't tell me they'd be hiding their true identities!"

"That's bullshit," said Drake, trying to stay calm. "What else is a mask - and costume, for that matter - for? For that matter, your system has also been flagging my Special Agent Vic Peltior, who doesn't wear a mask."

"He must be doing something to confuse the computer! It keeps identifying him as a woman!"

"Vic Peltior is female," said Drake, tiredly. He realized that Vic had only been flagged when she had her helmet off. Protective helmets with visors were so common for motorcyclists and others - including riot police - that the software had been told to ignore them.

"Hold on... Yeah, he - I mean she - has been identified as present at multiple crime scenes."

"She works in law enforcement!" said Drake, with exaggerated patience. "The computer would probably make the same association for any of your plainclothes detectives or crime scene investigators!"

"I don't have time for this," said the Chief, angrily. "Tell them to unmask."

"They won't do that."

"Then they can just leave! This is straight from me and the Mayor! We won't have 'secret,' masked people on our streets! The citizens need to trust us!"

"The city and the state both have specific exemptions in the disguise laws to allow recognized super crime fighters to wear masks," said Drake.

"Well, our computer doesn't recognize them! Now get those masks off or get them out of there!"

"What makes you think that even without masks any of them would be recognized by your system?" said Drake.

The contact was interrupted from the Chief's end. Drake sighed and put his phone away. He walked slowly back to where the two teams and Vic were waiting.

"Sorry to have made you folks come all the way here just to tell you to leave," said Drake, sourly. "After approving the arrangement ahead of time, the Chief of Police has changed his mind and said you have to either take off your masks or get out of town."

"That's crazy!" said Energia, angrily.

"I doubt it would stand up in court, but in the short term what he says goes," said Drake. "It's either do what he says or get arrested for aggravating the protest by confusing their facial recognition system."

"Which doesn't make sense," snarled Energia, cutting off several other members of the two teams. "I mean, my costumed identity is far more likely to already be in their system than my civilian ID is!"

Since Energia was accurately voicing their own concerns, none of the other supers in the two groups felt like adding anything. There was a great deal of grumbling and discussion among them, but the costumed supers eventually decided to comply with the bizarre order by leaving. They began, in no hurry, to walk back to their respective apergy craft. Except for Energia, the only flyer among them, who just took off under her own power.

"I hope she's not going to do something stupid," said Thunderer, looking at the receding figure.

"She's not stupid," said Blue Impact, firmly. She then sighed and amended her statement. "Though she can be impulsive."

"You can stay," said Drake to Vic, as the other supers left. "However, keep your helmet on. For some reason they find your face objectionable."

"Say what?!"

Drake gave her a humorless smile and explained.

"To echo Energia, that's crazy," said Vic, though more tiredly than angrily. She put her helmet on. "Ah, well. I'm just glad I spent so much effort making this whole outfit comfortable for long-term wear."

"That's the spirit. Now, go. Mingle. Look as intimidating as you can."

Vic mock-saluted and wandered off.