-------------
Chapter 22
-------------

The news was in a frenzy that following morning. In a city full of heroes, and “promising” villains, something like an explosion at a major skyscraper did not go unnoticed. It had been a moment, at least for Judy, where her heart pounded and she thought everything slowed to a crawl. In that space where time hadn’t flowed for her, she thought her heroic life had ended in the worst way possible. Yet it hadn’t, even though one bomb had gone off.

Nine unconscious bodies belonging to the Arachne Regime, and a second bomb—one that had been diffused but still approached with care—had been discovered, throwing the home insurance company into a scandal and investigation.

A CEO assured the public that he was just as surprised and outraged.

But the next couple of weeks raged on. The bomb that had gone off did damage to the company handling claims that involved volcanic lairs, so the westernmost continental states, Hawaii, and Alaska were all on edge throughout the winter holidays.

Doctor Crescent—teleported away from the scene by Princess Undercut—was in need of time and recovery before she could talk to anyone, but she also needed to be hidden away somewhere that the Arachne Regime couldn’t find her. Walter pulled some strings with the mental hospital she worked for. They were understanding of their doctor’s plight, and let her have the time she needed off for an extended sabbatical. Wyatt suggested his “hippy brother’s place” in Maine, and it was there the doctor was sent to recuperate.

New Year’s Day, 2009, had arrived. The majority of the League was in attendance around the parade in Paragon City. The parade route ran through three major districts from the south side of Shiva Bay to the middle of Steel Canyon to the north.

“Where’s Jeffers?”

“He said something about needing sleep for once,” Walter said.

Pixeletta perched on top of a convenience store in Steel Canyon, along with Psi Wizard and Princess Undercut. None of them were talking about the night inside that tower, because they wanted to enjoy themselves as much as possible while technically on duty.

From what Pixeletta had been told, War Lagoon had knocked down the few Arachne agents who attacked him, and then flew out the window before Princess Undercut teleported herself and the doctor out of the building, taking bits of the bomb’s wiring with them. The blast was minimal, and no one was seriously injured by it.

The mayor had tried to tell off Walter, but Walter told the man that if he had confided every detail about the case from the beginning, including the level of secrecy around Harvey Stone, they could have prevented the damage taken. Walter was saved only by the news about the Arachne Regime scandal airing on every television or radio the next moment.

Again, no one wanted to think about that night or its following morning.

A float passed by that reminded Pixeletta that is was indeed winter. She had managed to not think about the cold weather up to that point. Pixeletta was wearing a long coat and a pair of earmuffs that matched one color from her costume, and leggings that used two of the colors.

Thanks again, Aunt Takako.

Another marching band passed, and it was followed shortly by a float playing a song styled after swing music from either the 40s or 50s.

Pixeletta recognized it as one of the songs Mortar Mage and Adamast Cross sang when they participated in the interrogation program at a police station recently, as well as the one that had played in the base so many weeks ago.

When Princess Undercut barked a laugh, Psi Wizard quoted the song and danced with her on the roof while doing so:

“Your style has a past as checkered in square, but boy, can you tell me why I should pay your fare?”

Pixeletta giggled.

Looking down, she saw that the “performers” dressed up in outfits from more than half a century ago were actually sitting along the edges of the float. They only swayed to the side and waved to the crowd, looking exhausted just from doing that alone.

Disappointing, but at least no one was being belligerent towards them.

The next marching band barely crossed into view when Pixeletta heard some cheers and laughter. Something was rushing through the band. The band, however, split away from whatever it was while a few people fell with their heavy instruments.

What emerged was a large man in a sort of costume that made words like “elaborate” or “excessive” look like a fig leaf on a stick figure.

His massive, white wings had more wings sprouting out of them. Much of his main outfit was gold and glittery, leaving a midriff in the front. The mask not only covered everything on his face, aside from the mouth and chin, but it had a horn coming out of it forehead, and the horn lit up with several colors of lights at once.

The whole costume looked thick, possibly armored, and too heavy to be truly functional. As he got closer, Pixeletta could see the numerous straps or belts in places that made no sense, as they held nothing and served solely as an aesthetic.

“Fear me,” shouted the man, “for I am the Final Vice!”

“Some part of the show, do you think?” asked Psi Wizard.

Princess Undercut said, “It’s gotta be. Who’s going to take that outfit seriously?”

Walter said, “If you’re referring to the gentleman in the extravagantly ornate attire, I’m not so sure. I’m asking a parade director right now.”

However, a police officer was walking up to Final Vice. The costumed man charged and swiped at the officer, knocking him across the street and into the bleachers where some bystanders were sitting.

“Time to go to work,” said Princess Undercut. She put a hand on Pixeletta’s shoulder. “Ladies first.”

They teleported together to the street below. The marketplace they were on wasn’t tall by any means, but this was still quicker and safer than leaping off of the building.

Princess Undercut teleported back up without her. Her body faded quickly, and the afterimage broke off into white sparkles nearly half as big as Pixeletta’s hands. They too vanished before Princess Undercut returned with Psi Wizard.

By this time, the first hero had intervened. They weren’t strong, but they were fast enough to try and block Final Vice’s most basic attack so far. The first hero flew backward from the sheer force of the villain’s strike.

“Mortar,” said Pixeletta, “do you have that karaoke mix on you, and can you fix the parade’s sound system real fast?”

He said, “I can. Why do you ask?”

“I think it’s a good time if we had a little fun taking this guy down, don’t you? I’m on my way to the main booth. Good luck, guys, not that you need it.”

She darted through the crowds of people, many of them screaming and most of them scattering away from the apparent villain. Pixeletta ran up the bleachers to get into the main booth where the media hosts were sitting.

“Excuse me,” she said, “I’m going to need to borrow one of these.”

“Hey!”

Pixeletta grabbed a microphone. She adjusted her earmuffs and domino mask to make sure they were still in place while she waited. In seconds, Mortar gave her the all-clear followed immediately by some music playing. The song Mortar chose nearly made her laugh, but she decided it was perfect.

It was the same music as what the last float she saw was playing.

Meanwhile, Princess Undercut went to confront Final Vice while Psi Wizard tended to the fallen officer’s injuries.

And Pixeletta sang, thinking to point at the villain when she could remember.

Final Vice noticed her singing about him. He managed to knock away Princess Undercut with some sort of energy attack—she was unhurt of course—and was taking a couple steps toward Pixeletta.

Another man jumped into the fight. He was dressed like some sort of hunter, and his weapon of choice was staff-based. There was no telling how long he was going to last, but Adamast Cross was on the way, encased in his ice armor.

Out the corner of her eye, Pixeletta could see the mayor with his hand over his face.

Adamast Cross was forced to slide back across the pavement as he blocked another attack.

Now Final Vice was charging a ball of energy, and he was facing Pixeletta. She was trying to think how to get everyone out of the booth if the ball came her way, but a hero jumped in the way.

It was Marten, or whatever he was going by, and he wasted no time generating a field of his own that was curved around the ball of energy. Final Vice threw his ball, and it ricocheted right back at him, exploding with a great forced that Marten managed to contain.
Someone else was flying in from a distance, Pixeletta saw. She also knew the song was almost over once the blast cleared and the villain could be seen trying to climb out of the big sinkhole in the ground.

“Get going,” she whispered to the people in the booth, shooing them towards safety. Final Vice was coming again, and she had more to sing while the heroes all kept him busy.

“Hit it, War!” she shouted into the mic while pointing one last time.

Behind Final Vice, War Lagoon landed and positioned himself. He used the shadows from the sinkhole to construct an arm and a fist, which immediately clobbered the villain in one shot. The villain was sent flying further than everyone else Final Vice had knocked around that morning, probably combined.

He was out cold, but the police on the scene still tackled and dog-piled him.

Adamast Cross, Princess Undercut, and Mortar Mage gathered in the middle of the street close to the booth where Pixeletta was. The first held a makeshift sign reading a 9, the next a 10, and the third hesitated a second before doing the same with a 7.4.

Upon seeing Mortar holding up the smaller number, Pixeletta held out her hands. “What?”

Then the trio laughed.

Pixeletta said into the mic, “Sorry for the disturbance everyone. Enjoy the rest of the show, have a happy New Year, and . . . Viva la Dallevan!”

Everyone in the League cheered while she got down, as did Marten she saw. The eight of them gathered along with the staff-wielding hunter.

“Good to see you, War Lagoon,” said Walter.

War Lagoon said, “Yeah. I woke up sooner than I wanted and tried to watch the TV on silent until I passed out again.”

“Did you?”

“I knew I had to come when I saw a certain someone singing. Good to know it wasn’t a sign of her going supervillain on us.”

“Not yet,” Pixeletta chimed playfully. She stuck her tongue out at War Lagoon, who smiled and shook his head at her.

“Who are you people?” asked the hunter.

Walter said, “We’re the Dallevan League. Perhaps you’ve heard of us. And you are?”

“I’m known as Dissarap back on the West Coast. I can’t say for sure that I’ve heard about you all. Maybe a name, if that.”

“Yes. Well, you seem like a man who likes to test his foes before he strikes, but you also seem like a fine chap if you ever want to look us up and do hero things together.”

“I’ll think on it. I actually have to get going for now.”

Dissarap left without another word or even a wave.

While the group walked, eyes turned to Marten. He looked like he wanted to say something, but wasn’t able to even open his mouth.

“Thanks for your help, Marten,” said War Lagoon.

Marten said, “Whoa, hey. It’s Rampart now. Don’t be giving away people’s names like that, man. That isn’t cool.”

“Cool, huh?”

“Walter Dallevan, stop right there!” came a voice from behind the group. It had to have been the mayor.

Walter said, “Dear, oh dear. Hello, Mayor Oldman, so good to see you weren’t harmed.”

“Harmed? If there wasn’t someone on standby at this point to fix the property damages around this city, I’d be blowing a gasket right now, and I’d have you to blame.”

“You’re always happy to express your feelings every time we do our job. And why shouldn’t you be?”

“Enough! If you do not cease your outlandish actions at once I will be forced to disband your task force and give the investigation to someone else.”

“Forced by whom, exactly? And investigate what, how? It’s perfectly clear that you know more than you’re letting on, so you can either tell us everything we need to know about Stone, or you can forget we even exist.”

The mayor scowled. He looked like he might cross the line and attack someone before he stormed off. Pixeletta was glad that she was out of his immediate reach, because the memory of the first angry man charging her was still fresh in her mind.

Pixeletta’s powers were stronger now, and the mayor was slimmer compared to Leon Penne. In her fluster of giving a performance she never thought she’d ever give—and it was only now setting in what exactly she had done in front of a wide audience across the whole country—the shock might cook the man if she hit him in self-defense.

“Do I even want to know?” asked Rampart.

Walter took a good look at the still sleepy-eyed War Lagoon, and said, “That depends. It’s sort of a long story, and you’re welcome to join us, Rampart. War, how’s breakfast sound?”

War Lagoon said, “As long as they can keep the coffee running I can sleep later, I guess.”

“Splendid. Now, let’s go find us a big table at the nearest UHOW. We have a story to tell.”