Part Three

A small hatch opened in the large, heavy door. Someone barely seen peered out.

"Are you one of Chuck's Children?" asked the low, gravelly voice.

"Rock and roll never forgets," proclaimed Vic, boldly.

"Enter," said the voice, as the door slowly opened with an ominous creak.

Vic and Michelle entered the darkened hallway. They passed through double swinging doors and the muffled sounds that they had heard all the way out in the parking lot became louder and more identifiable. Then they passed through another pair of doors, and were in the main room, surrounded by amplified music from a live band. This chamber was deep, wide and tall, with a bar to the left and tables all around a central dance floor. The stage on which the band played was at the far end. It was also very noisy.

"You weren't even born when that song came out," said Michelle, grinning and speaking loudly as they moved towards the bar.

"Neither were you!"

Soon they had a pair of beers and were looking for a table.

There was a house band, which was already playing when the pair arrived. Soon, though, those performers took a break, and a set of several songs was played by a local guest band. Then the house band came back. Then another guest band. The genres of the music varied with the group playing, but nearly all the pieces were from the past thirty years. Most of it was from the previous decade.

"I like my boss," said Vic, grinning as she spoke loudly to Michelle. Even between sets, the background noise rose enough to make casual conversation difficult, "but his idea of popular music is 'The Little Blue Man.'"

Naturally, she had to look that up on her phone. Maybe it was the alcohol, but what Michelle read gave her the giggles.

They drank, they snacked, they danced, they simply enjoyed the music. Until, a bit reluctantly, they headed home. Though only after waiting long enough for Vic's regeneration to remove the alcohol from her system.

* * *

Energia was flying. That was not unusual; she loved to fly. Even the location and time were not unusual. Though Energia wasn't so much on patrol as simply out flying. After all, she could fly, so why wouldn't she? She was careful to avoid airspace assigned to commercial or military air traffic, as well as prohibited zones. Her earbud would warn her if she accidentally approached one of those volumes. Energia frequently patrolled the air in this region during the day, when Tricorn wasn't busy. However, she did not let the familiarity of the situation make her complacent. She had enemies, and even without those she had to watch for low-flying aircraft. Ordinary birds and insects could also pose problems, despite the lenses in her mask protecting her eyes. She was also careful to follow the "see and be seen" mandate. For her, being seen was not difficult, since she was in full, colorful costume, cape and all. There wasn't much private air traffic in this volume, but she still kept an eye out for it.

She was just starting to enjoy herself when she caught sight of a flash, in the distance and well to the left of her line of flight. That direction was towards New York, and given the altitude and location of the fireball the source could easily be an airliner. Immediately, Energia switched her earbud to the emergency channel. She caught the tail end of a Mayday call which cut off abruptly. Immediately, an air traffic controller came on. The woman repeatedly called a commercial airliner - a heavy, likely with hundreds of people on board - asking for details of their abbreviated emergency call, with no reply. Energia was already accelerating and climbing when the ATC began calling for super help. Energia quickly realized that her evaluation was correct, and soon had additional details. An airliner had exploded shortly after takeoff from Idlewild Airport.

As she flew, Energia heard further information about the situation. The accident had occurred well above Energia's safe altitude limit. There was no time to go to Tricorne headquarters and get her pressure suit. There was no time to look for some sort of supplemental oxygen supply. Even at this distance Energia could see that the aircraft had broken into at least three large sections and several smaller ones. Worse, the main part of fuselage was engulfed in flames, with additional pieces coming off it.

Energia could feel her ears pop as she gained altitude. Fortunately, the plane had still been climbing after takeoff, so it wasn't much above the altitude to which she could safely fly. Also, flying this high meant she could go faster.

The accident turned out to be further away than Energia first thought. By the time she got there most of the wreckage had fallen far enough that the parts were low enough for her powers to reach. Energia headed for the largest piece, which was most of the fuselage.

However, once she actually started working on the debris Energia discovered another problem. The plane was largely constructed of modern composites, which her magnetism had trouble interacting with. She had to use direct force, which reduced Energia's fine control. She could see people inside, some of them obviously hurt, but just now there was little flame. Nearly all the fuel storage for this model was in the wings.

Those were also falling, of course, streaming fire, and had flaming bits were separating from the wings as they fell. For now Energia ignored them, as they seemed to be heading for the ocean. Besides, she was having enough trouble getting control of just this part of the fuselage. She was the first super on scene, though she could see others flying in and hear, over her earbud, more people promising to be there soon. Energia focused on controlling the largest piece of fuselage, leaving the other parts to the new arrivals.

Now, where to put this?

"This is Energia. I have the largest part of the wreckage. Where can I set this down?" she asked, over the emergency frequency.

"Go straight west," one authoritative voice replied above the resulting clamor; she sounded like the ATC who had first called on the emergency channel. "We have you on radar. There's a park with a baseball field. That should be empty right now, and there's good road access for emergency vehicles."

Energia began herding the fuselage down and towards an open area of land she could see, off to the west, hoping that was the park the air traffic controller had mentioned. The flames on this part of the airliner, fortunately, were already out, but Energia could see that some of the people inside were obviously hurt; none were moving. As she descended she could tell that there were subdivisions in the area, but she also saw major roads. Knowing that she needed to get the aid to the people in the fuselage as quickly as she could, she found the baseball field the voice on her earbud had recommended and headed quickly for it.

The load was heavy, and required delicate handling, but Energia was able to ease the still smoldering section of airliner down onto the baseball field. This success was partly due to last minute help from Kestrel, who arrived for the end of the descent. He was one of the more cocky masks Energia knew, but he was also capable and competent, a flying light brick, like Doro, and at least in this emergency he kept his mouth shut and his mind on business.

That done, Energia, Kestrel and a few other fliers then corralled most of the still falling debris. This unfortunately included several the bodies. They put everything in the park, where both civilians and non-flying supers were already putting out the fires and helping the injured. Energia could hear sirens in the distance, heading rapidly towards the scene.

There were, unfortunately, very few survivors, though without super help none would have made it and likely many on the ground and ocean would have been injured or killed.

* * *

The rest of the flying heroes, many of them already exhausted, landed in the park beside the biggest part of the fuselage. They joined the supers and civilians working on the ground, and began helping evacuate the few passengers and crew not seriously injured. Those rescuers with appropriate skills treated inside the plane sections the victims too hurt to be moved. Energia saw the first ambulance approaching. It simply bashed through the locked gate blocking the access road. She could also see a gathering crowd of watchers. Many of the onlookers were recording the unfolding event on their phones. Well, there were already enough people working on the problem; as long as the watchers didn't get in the way Energia didn't care.

Cleanup took over three hours. Sometime during that period Energia called Blue Impact to explain what was going on. The leader of Tricorne and Gadgetive arrived in the team's large apergy flyer, though this was only after all the work was over.

"We couldn't get here in time to help with the rescue," said Blue Impact, apologetically, as the canopy opened. "Too many other things going on just now. However, I figured you could use a ride home."

"Definitely," said Energia, tiredly blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. With a bit of help from Blue Impact, Energia climbed over the sill and into the front cabin of the flyer. She groaned with relief as she sank into her usual seat. "It's not so much that I'm physically tired, as that this was a very emotionally draining situation. Though, yes, I am definitely tired."

"If you're like me, you are probably having flashbacks to the war," said Blue Impact, sympathetically. "Come on; we'll head back to the lair and get you a good, hot meal."

"That sounds wonderful. Though only after a quick shower."

* * *

"I am really glad you've decided to go to that island to help me teach the T.O.W.E.R. folks martial arts," said Vic, later that same day, obviously happy. "I wanted to go, but not without you!"

"I can tell you're excited about this," said Michelle, carefully straightfaced. "Your high-beams are on."

"Huh?" said Vic. She followed Michelle's gaze down to her chest.

"You need to wear a bra if you want to keep those from showing," said Michelle, smirking. "Even if you don't need the support."

"Oh... Well, better two small bumps than an erection," muttered Vic, shifting uncomfortably.

"You'd know more about that than I do."

"I just don't... I wonder if the ease with which I get aroused is due to my regeneration perpetually keeping me physically in my late teens," muttered Vic, doing relaxation breathing to try and get her rebellious anatomy under control.

"Face it, dear," said Michelle, still smirking, "you're in your mid-teens. Which is one of the things I like about you."

"Hold on," said Vic, doing some smirking of her own. Her "high beams" were now even more prominent. "Are you saying you have a... thing for younger women?"

"Dear, you're about the same age I am."

"You know what I mean."

"Well I do appreciate your... youthful stamina."

The rest of the evening was spent with both of them enjoying that stamina.

* * *

"So you identify as female," said the psychologist, one Doctor Henry Graves.

"Well, yeah," said Vic, indicating her form with a vague, inclusive gesture. "No real choice, there, but I do consider myself a woman."

"So, no gender dysphoria at all?"

This interview was something Vic had actually been looking forward to, though not necessarily for any potential therapeutic benefits. A recent policy implementation at the Congressional level meant that Vic needed the man's approval to leave the country. The psychologist had recently been put on retainer for all of the Detroit federal law enforcement agents. Which, of course, included Vic. Because she would likely be leaving soon for her detached assignment, Vic was being given priority in the combination evaluation and therapy sessions. She saw it as one of the last steps in getting approved to leave the country. So far, though, this session was not going as Vic had imagined it would.

"I feel quite comfortable with my body."

"There are many people born female - genetically, and not only those wrongly assigned due to being intersexed - who don't."

"I know," said Vic, nodding. "The doctors and other researchers who examined me say my transformation even altered the structure of my brain, so that the part involved in gender identity matches my body and genes."

She shrugged.

"I'm only male in my memories. Though some people who don't want to admit that there's natural variation might say my former gender is also reflected in my tastes for partners. Uhm, sexual partners."

"So you haven't even considered hormones and surgery," said Dr. Graves.

"Wouldn't work. I have regeneration."

"They know of ways to repress that, now. Not unlike the treatments used for traditional transplant patients."

"I didn't know about that," said Vic, surprised. She considered for a moment. "Nah. I don't think that's an option. Leaving the practical considerations aside - I need the regeneration for my job - I am comfortable being a woman."