Part Six

"Be wary of any politician who supports a position by claiming it's a matter of 'common sense,'" said Drake, wryly.

He and Vic were in his office at the Detroit Federal Building. He had called her in without explanation, and opened with that after she was seated.

"Is that appropriate to anything in particular or just a general bit of shared wisdom?" said Vic.

"Well, it's appropriate to your situation with that rich super kid you helped arrest," said Drake. "His parents got a tame state senator to say at a press conference that people should only be arrested by their peers."

"Which the kid was, since we're both supers," said Vic, knowing that wasn't what the senator - or her boss - meant.

"Yes, but to their minds being wealthy is more important and significant."

"Ow," said Vic, wincing. "The preliminary hearing is when? About two more weeks?"

"They keep filing for extensions, but I think they've run the judge out of patience," said Drake. "Anyway, just be aware that they may try to pressure you, in any of several different ways, having tried all legal maneuvers. So, for that and other reasons, I want you to be sure to keep yourself at the ready for the new line of storms which are supposed to be moving in. Not only may you need to help people, but the family may arrange for extra press coverage of any operation you are involved in."

"Just what I need during a weather emergency," muttered Vic.

* * *

As the situation developed, while the weather problems were bad they were manageable without Vic's help. She and Michelle monitored the situation in Detroit and the surrounding area on local TV and through radio and cell phone bulletins.

"It just keeps raining! Hard!" bemoaned one TV news droid.

Yet there were no traffic delays reported. Mainly because - being forewarned - most people were staying home. It didn't hurt that the rain hit late in the day, so in general those who had to travel had already done so. Lady Greene was also on patrol, helping motorists and pedestrians, which definitely didn't hurt. In the videos of her in action she seemed to be enjoying herself.

Fortunately, the rain had stopped by the time Michelle and Vic headed to work the next morning. However, the legacy of the storms lasted well beyond the several hours of heavy rain. In the process of taking Michelle to Curl Up and Dye, Vic had to make a couple of detours to avoid flooded intersections or streets with low spots full of water. Then she headed for her own workplace.

"Looks like its going to be a wet Winter," Vic muttered, as she cranked the wheel of her Corolla wagon to make the turn onto another detour.

When she finally got to the federal building, Vic saw that about half of her coworkers were even later into the office than her. She also found a note to see Drake already on her desk. Sometimes she wondered if he slept in his office. This time, on the note there was a brief mention of a mission to help rescue someone trapped in their car amid rising water. Vic hurried to Drake's office.

"First responders have already been called to the scene, so I don't think there's a rush," said Vic's boss. "Otherwise I would have called you."

"So where did the report come from?"

"The old Packard plant."

"That place is _huge_!"

"Yes, but only a few areas actually flood enough to trap a car. Between knowing where those are and other clues from the call the Detroit police have the search area narrowed down."

"Not that I don't want to help, but why are we involved in this?"

"There was a confused mention - actually, the whole call was confused, which I guess is understandable - that someone with powers had moved the car with the driver in it, jammed the doors, then blocked the way out. Then the call cut."

"This hypothetical super person may have done this to draw in first responders," Vic pointed out. "Or even me. In fact, there may not even be a car and trapped driver."

"Or they just really want the person they trapped to suffer," said Drake. "Anyway, get out there. Even if it's a hoax, having you respond to a call about a potential rogue super is standard procedure."

Vic donned her armor, minus the helmet, in the small women's restroom on the Bureau's office floor of the federal building before she set out. This meant she had to adjust the seat of her Corolla wagon to fit, but also meant that once on the scene she only had to put on the helmet and take the martial arts weapons out of the back and stow them properly on her armor to be ready. At least, that was the idea.

The old but spotless Corolla now had a proper siren and blue lights behind the reinforced grill, and Vic used them. She got strange looks from the civilians she passed, but had no trouble from the cops. Not only were Vic and her car known to the local LEOs, but Drake had called to let them know she was on the way. The dispatcher had even announced this over the general channel. The route Vic took wasn't the shortest, but this time of day - especially with the flooded intersection detours - it was the quickest. After all, there was at least one life at stake. Supposedly. The call seemed like a setup to her, and even Drake seemed to have his suspicions, so she called her police contacts on the way. There were multiple local cops on the scene, both uniform and plainclothes, as well as other emergency workers. Vic was given direct contact information. All the first responders at the site were looking for the supposedly stuck and flooded car. Just before Vic arrived at the gate to the old plant there came reports of someone shooting at those already on the scene.

Vic made her careful way along connecting factory streets to where the first responders were clustered. Though much of the Packard manufacturing facility had been demolished, much still stood. This left a maze of structures. Vic quickly found the police cars, ambulances and fire trucks. She parked her Corolla with them, then exited and identified herself to the senior cop present. He was not happy. Fortunately for Vic, his state of mind had nothing to do with her arrival.

"We came under fire within minutes of arriving at the most likely location," said the officer in charge. "Don't know yet where it's coming from but we put a sharpshooter in a high vantage, to keep watch and maybe get lucky. Most of us pulled back to here, under cover, to plan. However, we also have scouts out, and they should be able to spot the perp or perps."

"Where is he or she? Your sharpshooter, I mean," said Vic. The officer described the man's perch and how to get there. "Okay, let your people know I'm on my way to that position. I may be able to spot the sniper with my helmet's sensors, and if I can see where they are I may be able to get to them."

Despite Vic's request about notification, the Detroit police sharpshooter - one Officer Magrum - started when he noticed her approaching.

"Damn, you're fast," he commented, as Vic came at a running crouch around the rooftop box which held the top of the stairs. "Quiet, too."

Keeping low the whole way, Vic moved beside him.

"Any luck?"

"Nope. Guy is keeping his head down."

The sharpshooter was using a police-issue, presumably accurized M-16 with a heavy barrel and a scope. However, Vic noticed something else.

"You have your thumb on the forward assist," she warned.

"That's the sniper button," said Magrum, impatiently.

"If you hold that down, you'll cause your gun to jam."

"No, that's a myth. It actually turns it into a bolt-action rifle."

"You can't change the type of weapon by pushing a button," said Vic. "The forward assist is to..."

"Yeah, if you don't know anything about guns don't pretend," said the officer, smugly. "You'll just look stupid."

"Excuse me? Who here is a veteran of the Shilmek War? Who here is a decorated combat hero? Also, I have to qualify with an M-16 for my current job. My instructor was very strict about not pressing on the forward assist unless you needed to seat a cartridge in a dirty chamber. Otherwise, you can damage the gun."

"You believed him," said Magrum, sneering. "Just like a girl. You believe anything a man tells you."

"They why don't I believe you?"

Vic moved away while he was trying to parse that.

* * *

In that brief period Vic had already spotted the location of the person who had fired on the police, thanks to her helmet. Unfortunately, that person was in high vantage position in an open area with a good view all around. Unless there was some underground way in...

"Not that I know of," said the newly-arrived Captain Markel, a competent man Vic had worked with several times before on local super problems. "We may just have to wait him out."

"Where's Lady Green when we need her?" asked one of the uniforms waiting with them.

"Helping with a high-rise fire downtown," said Captain Markel. He sighed. "That's likely to take a while. Flooded streets have delayed the fire trucks. So, we sit tight."

He looked at Vic.

"Unless you have a better idea."

"I think I can get up there without being seen," said Vic, sounding confident.

* * *

She climbed to the top of the tower after coming in a back way and moving cautiously from cover to cover. No shots were fired at her during this approach. Given Vic's agility - even in the armor - and martial arts abilities the climb was difficult but doable.

She pulled herself quietly over the edge of the roof, then moved slowly towards the prone figure. A figure which remained motionless even when Vic stood over it, her shadow on the "face."

"It's a setup," said Vic, quickly, over her helmet's radio. "The 'sniper' is a dummy with a 'rifle' made of pipe and wood."

"Get out of there!" yelled Markel.

Vic immediately understood. If this...

Even as she turned away, to leave the way she had come, something slammed into the left side of her head. The stereo speakers in her helmet gave a strange squawk and the visor flashed. Then the speakers went silent and the visor blank. Vic, barely conscious, reflexively yielded to the blow, actually going into a diving right shoulder roll. She came to her feet running. She learned later that more shots rang out, but with the audio function of the helmet dead and her dazed from that first impact she didn't hear them. The dead visor was trans parent, but Vic was depending more on her sense of perception just then.

Vic didn't go to the fire escape stairs or her own entry point, but to the side of the building away from the direction of the impact on her helmet. She didn't stop at the edge, either, but dove a bit clumsily over the railing. She trailed her hands down the side of the tower as she dropped, which pulled her upright and slowed her fall. When she hit the roof of the lower building on that side, Vic rolled with the impact and popped up, turning in the air and landing running. There was a sharp crack behind her, and a deep rumbling. Whoever had set this trap had blown the tower, but was either late on the switch or simply had not realized that Vic was already on another roof. Vic by reflex kept running to the fire ladder on the far edge. She slid down its stages Navy style until she was on the ground. Even then, she immediately resumed running, and didn't stop until she was several buildings away. Then she collapsed.

* * *

"I got him!" yelled Magrum, over the coms. "Don't know why he as so hard to hit. Took me a lot of shots, which it shouldn't have, even though he was running! I got him, though!"

"We were just talking," said one of the other uniforms, "and none of us could remember hearing a bolt action rifle go full auto before."

"Oh, shut up," snarled Magrum. "I got him, didn't I? Now you guys get to go grab him. I did my part."

He gave directions to where the sniper lay.

* * *

Meanwhile, said sniper had crawled under cover, leaving his heavy rifle behind. On his own radio, he reported his situation.

"How did he hit you?!" came the demand over the radio. "You're wearing an image displacer!"

"He just sprayed wildly in full auto until he hit me!" the sniper gasped. "I almost got to cover, too, but one of his last shots hit me in the left leg. Damn, that hurts..."

"We can't get to you. There's too many local cops in the way, with a bunch of 'em heading for your position. If you can't get to us, let them capture you. We'll come to the hospital and get you. Just get rid of the displacer and all other tech. Including the rifle!"

"Roger," the sniper said, not bothering to inform his controller that the weapon was currently out of his reach. He began emptying his pockets and unhooking gear from his harness.

* * *

Finding Vic without a signal from her took time. Getting the armor off her unconscious form took longer, especially with the damage to the helmet.

"We couldn't tell how badly she was hurt until then," one of the paramedics later reported. "We put a cervical collar on her before starting work on her, just in case. When we finally got that helmet off there was a lot of blood. Fortunately, the bullet had barely penetrated the armor in her helmet. She was almost hurt as much from whiplash as from the actual bullet penetrating and hitting her scalp. They said at the hospital that she definitely had a concussion; though that was already healing by then. Don't know how she made it so far before she collapsed."

Meanwhile, the shooter - or at least someone in fatigues with no ID who resembled the man Magrum described an in the appropriate location - was discovered. He was taken into custody, and treated by another pair of paramedics. However, he had to wait on transport until Vic was loaded into an ambulance.

"You're arrested!" the man screamed, when he saw the stretcher carrying the super. How he recognized her was uncertain, since Vic had already been taken out of her armor. Perhaps he went by the bulky head bandage, assuming that the only other casualty was the person he had shot.

* * *

Vic woke to pain and distorted vision. That did not keep her from realizing that Michelle was sitting close by her hospital bed, holding her hand. She turned her head - with difficulty - and managed to focus her eyes. The hairdresser appeared to have been crying.

"Hello," said Michelle, smiling and looking very relieved. "They told me you'd be coming around, soon."

"How long was I out?"

"A few hours. You had quite the head wound, but the helmet stopped most of it. The actual damage to you was superficial."

"Doesn't feel superficial," muttered Vic. "Ow. First headache I've had since my powers activated. Damn, I'm hungry."

"Well, they got they guy who shot you. He's in another room, under heavy guard. He's not hurt nearly as bad as you, but given your regeneration you'll be healed sooner than him. They don't even know who he is, yet, but they took his fingerprints and DNA. I'll sneak you in a cheeseburger later."

* * *

"Not that, again," said Drake, sounding very tired, when told of the sniper's shout at Vic.

"This is the first 'you're arrested' murder or attempted murder in months," said Cal. "Is this guy part of the original movement? Or a copycat?"

"Either way, it's trouble," said Drake, firmly. "They almost got Vic. There was no stranded motorist, of course."

"Yeah. Police say the rifle he used was a literal elephant gun, in .458 Winchester Magnum. That actually exceeds the rating of the helmet."

"Good thing she has a hard head."

"Not funny, boss," said Cal. He sighed and shook his head. "If it weren't for all the fancy electronics they added in the last upgrade, she might be dead. They soaked up a lot of the damage."

The phone on Drake's desk rang. He answered. He kept a poker face while listening and occasionally making a neutral comment. Then he hung up and looked at Cal.

"The shooter is dead. Somebody slipped something into his IV."