Part Eight

Ike Kenniman was hosting a holographic conference among supers. Since many people were involved, teams had only their current leader - in most cases a chairperson - displayed. The participants were all established super teams - among them Tricorne and the Assembly - and a few individuals.

"The people behind the fake Afterglow and Nukula made a mistake," said Ike, once everyone invited was logged in and settled. "There are multiple satellites in orbit around the Earth which look for unusual radiation from the surface of our planet. Perhaps they heard that the Shilmek had destroyed those satellites in orbit at the time of the attack and didn't know that the most important of those had already been replaced."

"Get to the point, Doc," said Rapscallion, from out of range of the Intrepids video pickup. To those who knew the Black Mask well enough to read him, he seemed to share his teammate's impatience through the cloud of darkness which seemed to cover his features.

"I had to use a lot of my influence in the intelligence community, but I got records from those satellites of what they detected during both Afterglow's activity and Nukula's. The latter included her returning to base."

"We got 'em!" said Tiger, from out of range of the pickup at the Bay Area Guardians's base. Steel Lace, the only member of that team in view, didn't react.

"Another island?!" said Dr. Gorgeous.

"No, there's no islands at that location and the base is moving. I'd say it's a ship. Currently in international waters in the Atlantic. Backtracking, I found the same ship off western Canada during our raid on the Super Battle Federation island."

"Don't they have radiation detectors on the Panama Canal?" This was from off-camera Gadgetive.

"Yes. Which is probably why they went the long way around."

"If it's in international waters," said Blue Impact, thoughtfully, "it is out of the immediate jurisdiction of most US law enforcement."

"So even if we can get enough evidence to prove that's where the android came from there's nothing anyone can do," said Mesa, also off-camera at the Bay Area Guardians' headquarters.

"Well, I'm not an authority on international law," said Ike, "but if we report this ship to the UN or INTERPOL and keep tabs on it they can at the very least detain it when it goes into port."

"They can literally arrest the ship," said Blue Impact.

"Not good enough," said the Black Mask, leaning forward a bit. "We need to be proactive in this matter."

"Which is why I called this conference," said Ike.

They began planning.

* * *

Vic was going over the case of the loss of Lightning Wire's aircraft with her coworker Cindy Larsen. Though Cindy was not officially an investigator, she had an analytical mind and loved to solve puzzles. Actually, the entire office was working on the crash, since Vic had been involved in the arrests of the band and crew and they had sued both her and the Bureau, as well as Lady Green and the Detroit and Michigan police.

"Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way," said Cindy. "What if this wasn't a deliberate act, by someone trying to hurt Lightning Wire?"

"You mean, what if it was just an accident?" said Vic.

"Maybe a fan with powers was trying to see them up close," said Cindy, with a shrug. "Only, they got too close."

"Well, we can't go checking every flying super for bruises," said Vic, sourly. "If only there had been something on radar besides the plane!"

"It might even have been a stealth drone of some type," said Cal Pavolin, whose desk was next to Cindy's. "There's several military bases in this region. A drone could've gotten away from the handler and hit the band's plane. Maybe they'll find it - or Cindy's flying super - when they finish dragging the lake."

"If not, we'll probably never figure out what actually hit them," said Vic, with a tired sigh. "Or what they hit."

* * *

One bit of good news: The two cops who had almost gotten the regenerator killed were finally on administrative leave, pending the results of an investigation into their behavior. In that case and several others.

"You don't seem very happy that these men are off the street and facing indictment," said Drake, after delivering the news to Vic.

"I just feel like I should have been able to stop them sooner!" said Vic, with a mixture of anger and aggravation. "Not only did they cause direct harm, their bad behavior was influencing other local cops. Like with that roofied girls case. Instead, I expected someone else to handle the problem. Well, someone finally did, but several people had to die to get there."

* * *

There was no such thing as a routine day - or week or month or even year - for the employees of the Bureau of Special Resources. Given that most masks were howling individualists, and that the people who objected to them did so in part on the grounds that they weren't like "normal" people, this wasn't surprising.

Still, Vic had a reasonable expectation of being on light duty for the first few days after being shot. Unfortunately, she was both completely healed and considered ready for duty, and very much needed, only a few days after leaving the hospital.

A call came in from the Detroit police just two days after the press conference. An officer was reporting an encounter with a rogue super; a man who was causing trouble in a subdivision. The officer on scene had - wisely, considering the apparent potency of the super - decided not to engage. Instead, he called for backup. Unfortunately, that was Vic. The Detroit neutralizer team would be half an hour longer arriving.

Vic got to the scene and quickly found the officer and his damaged car.

"What happened to your unit?" asked Vic, startled. The last she had heard was that the officer was keeping his distance.

"Well, I rammed him," said the officer, a bit embarrassed. "I saw him lifting an SUV - he'd already thrown a couple - so I hit him with my car. He didn't seem to notice. Though he did put down the SUV and wander off that way."

"That way" was a straight path which ran diagonally through several yards. The perp had simply walked through anything in his path. Fortunately, that had not included houses. So far.

Vic suddenly realized that this was the same neighborhood as where the FBI agents had shot Lancelot Kubiac. She felt a dread certainty that the suspect was that man's missing brother. The one who was supposed to be far more formidable than Lance.

Sure enough, when Vic chased the suspect down - he wasn't moving very quickly - she found a man who strongly resembled photos of both Lancelot Kubiac and his father. Only he was as massive as both of them combined! This guy made the Godsfather look like a punk.

"Okay, stop right there!" shouted Vic, glad that this older helmet at least included the PA function. She was also very aware that it offered less protection than the ruined one. As well as being glad her voice was steady.

The big man turned slowly to face Vic. He seemed mildly surprised to see her, but that quickly faded.

"They killed my baby brother," said the huge, and hugely muscled, man.

"You're the older brother of Lance Kubiac," said Vic, nodding as her guess was confirmed.

"I'm Daryl Kubiac." He laughed. "The black sheep of a black sheep family."

At least he seemed coherent. Maybe he could be reasoned with.

"I'm trying to find evidence to use against the men who did the deed."

"You killed him."

The words were said in a calm, neutral tone, but they gave Vic chills. She was trying to talk this guy down, not give him reason to fight her. With an effort, she kept her own voice calm and even.

"No, I didn't kill him. I didn't know anything about the case until well after it happened."

"You're helping them, though."

"Like I said, I'm..."

"You deserve what's gonna happen to you."

Vic was now officially worried. The guy sounded medicated. However, if he had even just the same level of power as his brother, he could be a medicated powerhouse.

"It's time to let the Stranger out," said the man, in an ominous voice. He seemed to become even larger, straining his previously oversized clothes.

Vic was instantly on the alert. The Stranger hadn't been seen in decades, but in his last rampage he had destroyed a large section of northeastern New York city. She hadn't known that Daryl Kubiac was the Stranger until just then; the records had been sealed under a plea agreement, since the Stranger had been obviously mentally impaired, even if Daryl wasn't.

In a sudden burst of speed, the big man lunged at Vic, swinging a fist the size of a full-grown turkey in a punch which was meant to pulp her. Vic barely dodged, caught by surprise as she was. He didn't give her a chance to catch up, but quickly threw several more powerful strikes. This guy was an experienced brawler and knew what he was doing. Vic managed to avoid getting hit, but couldn't get away from him. With one miss he smashed the pavement of the driveway they were then in, casually cratering it and pulverizing the concrete with no apparent harm to his fist. Another time he demolished an apartment building's stand of mail boxes, sending aluminum and steel flying, trailing fluttering envelopes. Both strikes were past his point of focus, but did huge damage, anyway. Which demonstrated how much strength was behind those blows.

Forget about not hurting this guy, thought Vic, as she frantically avoided getting hit. I need to put him down, NOW!

Vic went for eyes, throat and groin in rapid succession. None of those strikes was successful. That is, she hit where she intended, but the Stranger barely seemed to notice. Realizing that this guy was too tough for even unaugmented eye strikes like the Twin Dragon to harm, Vic quickly applied the Purple Art. That did hurt him. Unfortunately, it also made him angry.

"I'm gonna get you!" he screamed, shrilly. "It's all there on the vinyl!"

Vic didn't try to figure out what he was talking about. She was too busy trying to evade him while also drawing him away from houses. They were in a circle at the end of a street when he threw a punch she was able to redirect into a toide maneuver, using his own strength to slam him into the ground.

That seemed, at the least, to confuse him. Vic quickly backed away.

"Oh, wow..." said a child's voice, from distressingly nearby.

Vic, startled, turned to see a young boy staring at her and the Stranger.

"Get out of here!" yelled Vic.

The boy ignored her.

"Hate kids!" yelled the big man, scowling as he rolled to his feet and advanced on the child.

The little boy shrieked in distress, eyes wide, but still didn't move. The Stranger cocked his fist.

Vic jumped between them. There was no time for anything fancy. If she simply used ki to resist the strike she would be knocked back and likely still hit the boy, injuring and possibly killing him. She took a rooted stance, putting everything she had into it, and did a rising block as the massive fist came in. Trying desperately to divert that intense energy upwards, away from her.

The blow was shifted upwards, barely enough to avoid hitting her. There was a thunderclap of sound and fury as forearm met forearm... there was a frozen moment... and the Stranger howled in pain, falling back and shaking his injured arm. Meanwhile, Vic simply collapsed. The boy went silent and turned and ran. Finally accepting that simply crying, screaming and whining wasn't going to get him what he wanted in this case.

More angry than ever, the Stranger reached for the fallen Vic with his other hand. Perhaps planning to rip her apart.

Fortunately, the Detroit police officer who had called Vic in now acted. His rifle gunfire distracted the Stranger, but didn't hurt him. Kubiac turned away from Vic and towards the officer.

His movements were unhurried. Which gave Vic a few moments to recover.

I can do this, she thought, as she painfully got to her feet. I have to do this!

Vic took several deep breaths, gathering her ki. Then she quickly moved in behind the giant and hit him with a side kick over the left kidney, putting all her might behind it.

Kubiac grunted mightily and staggered forward, caught his balance, half turned towards his attacker, paused to shake his head... then, finally, fell. Vic stepped back - limping a bit - and held a guarded stance for a moment. The giant didn't move.

"Whew," said Vic, finally, sagging. The police officer also relaxed a bit, lowering his rifle.

Kubiac stirred. Vic and the policeman instantly became alert. Fortunately, the stirring was the giant shrinking. He seemed to be semi-conscious, but very stunned, moaning in pain. The pitch of the moan slid from base to baritone as he became smaller. He went past the size he had been when Vic first saw him, finally stopping when he was merely large.

"I was using armor-piercing ammo, too," said the officer, nearly as stunned as Kubiac. "Had to change magazines. That's what took me so long to get here!"

"It's fine," said Vic. She was exhausted, and her foot was throbbing, but that and Kubiac's bruised kidney seemed to be the only injuries in this rampage. "Call in that we need an ambulance and a portable neutralizer."

"Already on the way," said the officer. "Both of those. Called them in even before you arrived."

Vic turned up the audio gain on her helmet and could, indeed, hear sirens in the distance.

"Just to be sure," she told the officer, well aware that such details could be overlooked in the aftermath of such a battle, "update your call, with our current location."

"Oh. Right. They need to know where to go."

* * *

"That was good work," said Drake, speaking with Vic in his office later that day. "Even his mother is praising you - and us - for stopping Daryl Kubiac without seriously injuring him. Though the mother of the boy is claiming you endangered him."

"Just to be clear," said Vic, "if I could have killed him with that strike, I would have. He was an immediate danger to everyone around him."

"If you had, I'd still be congratulating you." He gave Vic a sour smile. "Though I doubt his mother would have been. Now, you go home. Take the rest of the day off and don't worry about being on time tomorrow. We'll get your armor repaired."

To her surprise, both feet of Vic's armor had been seriously damaged by her last strike. Both the one she had hit the Stranger with, and the one she had been standing on. She had also damaged the pavement under her left foot. Nodding, she rose and left her boss' office. She went briefly back to her desk, told the others she was going home, and left.

* * *

"One of the local TV stations covered the fight shortly after you called," said Michelle, who was waiting for Vic at their apartment.

They kissed and hugged, briefly. Without saying anything, Vic dropped onto their couch. Michelle sat beside her.

"I'm glad you called before I saw that, on the TV down at Curl Up and Dye. They told it a lot more scary, with images of the property damage and interviews of the people there. Including little Bobby."

"Umf," said Vic, from where she sprawled, eyes half closed, on the couch. Michelle took Vic's hand.

"The only problem was that the witnesses seemed to think you were a member of the Denver police department." Realizing that she was on the verge of babbling, Michelle took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She hugged her wife again. "Where was Lady Greene during all this?"

"Busy with a bank robbery. For what it's worth, I don't think she'd have been much help in this fight. Guy was just too powerful."

"So, do you feel like celebrating at Wok on the Wild Side?" said Michelle, perhaps too enthusiastically. Reaction was setting in. Vic had said she was all right, and appeared to be physically fine, but obviously needed tending. "Because I certainly don't feel like cooking."

"Let's try that new place," said Vic, rousing herself and feeling bold after her victory. She sat up straighter. "Curryosity. Just let me get cleaned up."

"I'll help," said Michelle, grinning as they both rose from the couch.

* * *

Meanwhile, others were definitely not happy with Vic's performance in that fight.

"She not only survived getting shot in the head with an elephant gun," said the man at the end of the conference table, sounding outraged, "she took down the Stranger! So much for her powers being 'low level.'"

"If she's that potent, we need to back off and focus on something else," said another of those gathered to discuss the matter.

"So, we do a complete reevaluation of her," said his boss, who was sitting at the other end of the table they were gathered around. "Meanwhile, the people behind the 'Your Arrested' killings are the focus of the investigation, including the elimination of that failure, Jacobs, at the hospital. He should have held fire until that freak showed her armored face. Then made sure of his shot; the faceplate. Anyway, as long as we keep a low profile for the next few weeks we're golden. With Jacobs gone there's no connection with the group. That was good work, Carver."

"Me?" said Carver. "It was Collings who arranged that."

"No, it wasn't," said Collings, sounding angry. "You know I think that sort of thing is bad for morale."

"Regardless, we're already planning to shift our focus to Chicago," said their boss, unconcerned. "We'll let Detroit lie fallow for a few months. That gives us time to plan."

* * *

The weekly office briefing the next Monday was unusual and interesting. The workers were alerted by Drake's manner even before he started speaking that he had news other than the routine.

"Thanks to cooperation between us, the FBI and the archivists studying the Operators' lair, we have been able to recover some interesting DNA evidence from their souvenirs," said Drake, after briefly covering the usual matters.

"Do tell," said Cal Pavolin, sitting up straighter in his chair.

"Recall that one of the current senior local crime bosses is also named Conrad Kostinos. We've managed to obtain DNA evidence which show multiple points of congruence between him and the Operators' nemesis, John Mark, who was likely the Conrad Kostinos adopted by Hercules Kubiac. Unfortunately, all those older samples were degraded, thanks to their age, so they aren't much use in court. Still, there was enough similarity to prove that Conrad Kostinos is related to John Mark."

"Wait," said Vic, holding up a hand. "Is the current Conrad Kostinos a descendant of the guy - alias John Mark - the Operators fought, maybe a grandson named after the original, or... could this be the same guy?"

"We will find out," said Drake, firmly.