Two go in...

It wasn't supposed to be a Death Match!

Just maybe a fun way for Vic and friends to raise money for charity.

Did anyone make sure Invicta got the memo?

Masks XXV: A Conflict of Expectations

by

Rodford Edmiston

Part One

"You feeling all right?" said Mesa, noticing his team leader working her shoulder, as the third - and junior - member of their group watched silently.

"Just pulled something in my workout this morning," said Steel Lace, with a wince which he could see through her armored veil.

He nodded, and said nothing, but kept watching her. She was only a few years older than him, but he was a physical super, and had to be in good shape. As a gadgeteer, Steel Lace had less need for physical proficiency. Though there was still a need.

"Oh, put away your paramedic training until it's needed," said Steel Lace, trying to make her statement a good-natured grouse, and almost succeeding. "It's nothing."

"If you say so," said Mesa. "I'm just saying that regeneration tanks are a lot more common, these days. As well as faster and safer than they used to be."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Steel Lace, dryly. "I think the main problem with our current situation is that there's just not much room to move in this minivan."

That was an understatement. Though there were only three people currently in the vehicle, two were quite large and the third was in powered armor. Even with Steel Lace keeping her flexible outfit in "body hugging" mode things were tight in the van. However, that was currently part of the job. They were on stakeout, watching a building connected with the mysterious disappearance of several low-level supers. It might just be what it claimed to be; an employment opportunity center which bragged about including supers among its clientele. However, there had been multiple reports of people with powers who used the service simply dropping out of sight. Including out of contact with friends and family.

"I just don't understand why we're out here in the middle of the night," said Cong, the trio's newest and youngest member, frowning as he eyed the building. "All the info we have implies that if there is something underhanded going on, it's at wherever people are sent to, or on the way. Not here."

"Except we don't show where that is," said Steel Lace, patiently. "It could even be several different locations. If there is something underhanded going on, as you put it, there's a good chance the people responsible will come back after everyone else is gone to deal with any evidence of illegal activities. Since the people reporting the problem claim that some of the people whom we know came here and then vanished weren't even clients, at the very least they're incinerating or otherwise disposing of any paperwork showing that those people were actually here; probably at night. If the people behind the disappearances have for whatever reason to keep records of their illegal activities, that material is likewise probably moved somewhere offsite when there's no-one else around to notice."

Unfortunately, despite the Bay Area Guardians covering the business in shifts from closing to opening the next morning, nothing illegal was observed beyond a few incidents of jaywalking and someone parking in a handicapped only spot without the proper certificate. All of this at times of little vehicular or even foot traffic.

As so often happened in law enforcement work - of all types - nothing significant happened. That night. There were plenty more nights to come.

* * *

"Nervous?" said Vic, grinning, as she pulled the Corolla wagon into a parking space near the Ramsey Technical College gym.

"Only a little," said Michelle, as her wife shut off the ignition. "This isn't my first test, you know."

"A few hours after passing my black belt test I was in a car accident which triggered my powers," said Vic, dramatically.

"I doubt history will repeat itself in just that way," said Michelle, with a laugh. "Oh! There's my parents' car! I'm glad they made it."

That vehicle was far from the only one already in the parking lot. Coach Jude Trujillo had obtained permission to run a regular martial arts school at Ramsey after hours. This was when he taught and tested those who wished to learn self defense but weren't students at the college. That included former Ramsey students, such as Vic, and many others.

Vic wasn't up for a new belt at this time, but Michelle was testing for her Shodan, or First Degree Black Belt. Vic and Trujillo had both emphasized that this was a major step, and that it was actually the beginning of true martial arts learning. That in fact the rank was often translated as "beginning degree." Considering what she had already learned, Michelle found the idea that she was just beginning her martial arts education a bit intimidating. Of course, considering what she had seen both Vic and Coach - or Soke in this setting - Trujillo do she could understand that attitude.

Inside people - students and observers - milled around a bit, the former with their shoes off. Then Trujillo called the class to order. The observers went to the bleachers and the students to the mat. He led a brief warmup, then had the students sit on the floor beyond the mat. After fiddling a bit with some papers he called the board to join him. Vic gave Michelle a grin and a friendly pat on the shoulder, then rose and went to sit on the board.

The tests were given in rank order, and there were many of them before Michelle's. She watched the earlier tests with keen attention, sitting beyond the far edge of the mat from the board, with the other students. In part she was so attentive because she was being retested on a few things which she had barely done well enough on her previous test, the one for her Ikkyu (First Rank Brown Belt). In part because she wanted to learn from what those before her got right... and what they got wrong. In part this was to keep herself occupied, since Vic - as a senior student and black belt - was not with her and she didn't feel like exchanging whispers with other students.

This whole test was a serious matter. There was very little talking after it began except from Soke Trujillo, or in answer to something he said.

Several times a member of the board came out to act as uke for their student. Even Trujillo would uke for a student of his who was testing in something unusual of if their usual uke couldn't be there. Always, uke and tori who were about to be tested were sent aside early enough to warm up and stretch but a bit more. Partly because of this, partly due to the mats and partly due to the school's policy of safe practice, there were no injuries, despite some mistakes and some advanced techniques being evaluated.

Finally, Vic got the nod to go to one side and warm up with Michelle. They didn't talk much, though Michelle occasionally caught her wife grinning at her. Which she found irritating. Though that did take her mind off the test. Which may have been the intent. Or maybe Vic was just proud of her.

Michelle was called out, and her test began. Three times she was asked to repeat a technique - getting no help from Vic at all in advice as to what she might have done wrong, though Trujillo in one case asked her to think about something before doing it again - but for the most part her test went quickly and smoothly. For her weapon katas Michelle used an ordinary, crook-topped cane which had belonged to her maternal grandmother. Finally, she and Vic bowed off. Michelle went back to sitting with the other students of her current rank, and Vic went back to her seat on the board. Michelle was tired, but felt that she had done well.

Several more black belt candidates tested, then several who already had one tested for higher degrees. Finally, the tests over, Trujillo had everyone stand, and the board went into his office to score the participants.

Now those left behind could talk. The students - both those who had tested and their non-board partners - milled around, along with the families and friends of those testing. Michelle took advantage to talk for a bit with her parents and the one sibling - her older brother - who had come to watch. She later didn't remember much of what any of them said, despite the board being adjourned for nearly half an hour. Though she had a vague memory of her father talking about how they had done things differently when he had been in martial arts.

Finally, the board members filed back out into the gym. Everyone quickly resumed their seats and got quiet.

Each person who had tested was now called up in the same order they were tested. Their test was critiqued and they were told what they needed to work on, then they were told whether they had passed. Nearly everyone did. Including Michelle. Who had a hard time maintaining the proper demeanor when told.

Then came the ceremonial tying on of the new belt for those who had passed. Michelle was surprised to discover that Vic had obtained a custom black belt for her, with her name and new rank embroidered on the appropriate ends in white. The last part of the test was Soke Trujillo formally lining all the students up and bowing them off.

Afterwards there was celebration and socializing. However, while this was just getting underway, Trujillo asked Vic to come into his office. Michelle wondered what was going on.

* * *

Trujillo sat behind his desk, and motioned for Vic to sit in one of the chairs in front of it.

"First, I have a question about one of Michelle's techniques which I forgot to ask about during the scoring. Was that Ouchigari as hard as it looked?"

"Well... she almost put me through the mat," said Vic, a bit reluctantly.

"That's what I thought. I'll work with her on being easier on her uke." He laughed. "She's gotten too used to working with you. You're so good at slapping out of a throw I doubt you usually notice."

"I have told her a few times to go easier," said Vic, nodding.

"Now, there's another matter I want to talk with you about," said Trujillo.

He sighed, and looked tired.

"A friend of mine from my own time wearing a mask contacted me three days ago," said Coach Trujillo. "These days he calls himself Satchel. After a satchel charge. He used to be called Torpedo. Says he got suckered into a racket involving cage fights between supers, and the only way he could get out was by playing dead."

"Uh..." said Vic.

"Yeah, he's not very bright and not very coherent. However, from what I could get out of him - and after that one call I haven't been able to contact him again - it was a really bad scene. This was for a group called The Super Battle Federation. He says he was a prisoner, and wasn't the only person held there against his will, either. Though where 'there' was he wasn't too sure about. I think it's something the feds should investigate. Especially since it involves supers."

"Yeah, that sounds... important," said Vic, nodding.

"Anyway, I'm not even sure this guy deliberately played dead. He has regeneration, but if he gets injured past a certain level his metabolism goes anaerobic. No respiration, no heartbeat until his body makes basic repairs. He says that when he woke up he was in clothes that weren't his, lying on the ground, in some woods. That there were several other bodies in the area, in varying stages of decomposition. Just lying there."

"That sounds suspiciously like a body farm," said Vic, who had been given a rather unsettling tour of one as part of a college course in crime investigation.

"That was my guess." Trujillo pulled out two sheets of paper; a map and a written description. "I think I found where he was. I printed out a map of the area where he said he found himself and a transcript of what he said, as best I could remember."

"Thanks," said Vic, nodding as she accepted the two stapled sheets. "I'll definitely check into this. Hopefully, if it was a legitimate body farm they'll have noticed when one of their subjects wandered off. There have been scattered reports the past few months of masks going missing. This could help us find some of them."

"One last thing," said Trujillo, as Vic folded the papers and tucked them into her gi top. "Have you noticed Michelle demonstrating any mystical martial arts abilities?"

"Not noticed, no," said Vic, surprised. "I supposed I should start paying attention to that."

"Yes, you should. Now, let's get back to the celebration."

As the final part of that, everyone was invited to a celebratory dinner at a nearby Chinese restaurant. Most - including the families and friends there to observe the tests - went.

* * *

"It's a social instinct," I muttered, after reading an article online.

"What is?" said Sally.

I was in my office, reading my online clipping service for the morning. Sally was on the opposite side of the room, making use of my Ethernet for her own mysterious purposes. I suspected those purposes included porn, but was in no position to be critical about that.

"Helping people. It triggers endorphin release, something programmed into most people by our evolution as a social species. For some people it can become habit-forming. Even compulsive."

"I hear the voice of experience speaking," she said, clearly amused.

"Oh, it's not universal. It's also not the only motivation or even the only dubious motivation. Some supers are in it for the praise, the adoration of the masses or some other social benefit. Or a practical one, such as leniency from a government, or even cash rewards. Some people just like to solve problems. Most masks are in it for a mixture of reasons, including frustration over the perception that no-one else is doing something about a particular problem they see. However, the 'makes me feel good' motivation is definitely in there."

"That's not always chemical, you know," she said, a bit sternly.

"I did say that some people like solving problems," I playfully countered.

"I meant that there are people who are altruistic just because they want to help."

She sounded rather determined, so I decided that cowardice was the better part of domestic peace.

"I never said there weren't. Just that most people get a bit of a lift from playing the hero."

She muttered something I didn't catch and turned back to her computer.

"What I'm worried about," she said, a few minutes later, startling me, "is that US Senator in California..."

"Kraighearn? Members of his family keep getting elected, have been for over a century, despite attitudes like his. They look - and act - so much alike some people say they're all the same immortal politician."

"Yeah. Him. Anyway, he's introduced a bill to keep people with powers from voting. He says they - we - have different concerns from those of ordinary humans and therefore superhumans can't make informed votes which represent normal human attitudes."

"Despite that willingness to look at problems from new directions being something which supports the need to listen to supers," I said, sighing. "That's also almost exactly what that Louisiana gubernatorial candidate is saying. Even though he's in the other party, and they are pretty much at opposite ends of the political spectrum on just about everything else. What's not explicit in anything they are saying or writing for public consumption but is definitely implicit is that if they have their way every person will have to be tested for powers - probably a genetic test - and prove they're 'normal' before they can be allowed to vote."

"That's crazy!"

"That's politics."

Part Two

"I'm glad you told me about that guy who woke up on the body farm and walked away," said Special Agent in Charge Drake, when Vic entered his office in response to a summons late that morning. "I just had a talk with the director there and she was very glad - if a bit startled - to hear the explanation for what happened. They were thinking someone had stolen one of their subjects."

He laughed.

"Of course, having one of their bodies get up and walk away is also pretty unnerving. I think they're glad no-one saw it happen! They might just have another body on their hands, from that event frightening a worker."

"Okay, so that's one mystery solved," said Vic, grinning, as she took a seat. "At least for them. What about that super fight racket? The Super Battle Federation?"

"There has been lots of activity on that front the past few years, including reports of illegal activities. Most of these reports seem to be due to a misunderstanding of charity fundraiser bouts between supers. The whole idea is to have a nonprofit group which is using those fights to raise money for disadvantaged supers - including those injured during the Shilmek War - by staging a series of unlimited super fighting events. Even if they weren't voluntary and for a good cause, those are being held outside the US. Which means that even if there's something illegal going on it's outside our jurisdiction. Unless the government of the nation where they're held specifically asks the US for your kind of help."

"Huh. Well, from what my source told me, the guy the report came from could have misunderstood what he was getting into, or simply could have altered a story to avoid making himself look bad."

"I have still passed your report on. It's possible we'll be involved if the head office finds there's something actionable, but that seems unlikely."

* * *

"Okay, folks, I need your attention for a few more minutes," said Steel Lace. The Bay Area Guardians - well, a large percentage of them - were assembled for their morning briefing. The material she covered today was mostly commonplace; recent crimes and criminals to watch out for, including the suspicious activities at that employment agency. However, the last item she presented today was something unusual even for a superhero team. "A fisherman in North Cascades National Park was on Silver Lake - well, one of them - when a sudden storm forced him to take shelter on one of the small islands there."

"Why does that sound familiar?" said Mesa, frowning. "Something about an island in Silver Lake, I mean."

"Yeah..." said NightMist, also frowning. "Something from the Thirties? I think I heard my Grandma talk about it."

Most likely, the grandmother she meant was the original Mist, younger half-sister of the original Night Master.

"Anyway, he found an old home, long abandoned," said Steel Lace. "Through a hole in the floor he saw what he described as mad science equipment. He says he also saw lots of ice."

"Now I remember!" said NightMist, suddenly sitting straight upright. "Back in the Twenties some mad scientist experimenting with human hibernation built a vacation home there, to use as a cover for his work! Something about making use of natural ice, under the ground. Though I wonder if this is the same Silver Lake. There are a lot of them."

"Yeah, I remember it, too, now," said Mesa, nodding again, but this time much more assuredly. "The mad scientist and some others got trapped there when they were accidentally exposed to an anesthetic gas. They were thawed out about a decade later. None of them lived long after that, though. The chemicals protected them from the cell-ruptures that normally go with freezing, but contained toxins which soon led to organ failure. Wonder if modern dialysis would correct that..."

"Close enough," said Steel Lace, cutting off his medical musing. "That history is why the fisherman's report is being taken seriously. It's also why - since that entire area is now federal property - the US government put the call out for help in investigating that island, through the National Park Service and the Forestry Service."

"Isn't that a job for the Bureau of Special Resources?" said Lungfish.

"Yes, but despite recent improvements they are still very underfunded and understaffed," said Steel Lace. "Right now, they can't even spare anyone to go with us. None of the few teams in Washington State are suitable. Most of them can't even legally operate outside of their counties. At least, not as teams. The lone-wolf supers up there are too hard to contact."

"Why us, specifically?" said Cumulous, obviously irritated.

"We currently have several members available who are appropriate to such an investigation," said Steel Lace. "Those members have a good mix of abilities and skills which could be useful in this investigation. So, they go in - and I'm hoping you, Lungfish, will be one of them, since this is an island in a lake and there could be flooding of lower levels of that house and old lab - and take a quick look around. Based on that we - and the Park Service and the Bureau of Special Resources - decide whether anything more is needed."

"Do you have any idea how cold that water would be?" said Lungfish, in mock alarm.

He sat back and grinned, his iridescent full-body costume of two-tone dark greens shimmering a bit in the light from the ceiling glow panels of the briefing room. A black, domino-style mask and a utility belt disguised as a weight belt completed his outfit.

"Anyway, the team would be you, Mesa, Andrea and Cumulous."

"So..." said Mesa, leaning back, putting his hands behind his head, lacing his fingers together and staring thoughtfully at the glowing ceiling. "Someone with an air affinity. Someone with a water affinity. Someone sort-of with an earth affinity; that's me. Plus an android, who presumably has a machine affinity."

His currently customary outfit of corduroy pants, work boots and short-sleeved work shirt was all in earth tones. Mesa grinned at the Bay Area Guardians' mystic, who was also present.

"Those affinities you cited are rather... marginal," said Aura, smugly. "Also, I doubt this expedition will need my services."

"Yeah, you're pretty much useless where mad tech is involved," said Mesa, tongue-in-cheek. "Or any tech, for that matter. Which is why Andrea is along."

He gave Andrea Kenniman a grin, which she responded to with a Vulcan-style bland expression. This contrasted wildly with her current "masked naughty cheerleader" costume.

"Hmph," said Aura, sitting back and folding her arms over her chest in irritation. Some of her irritation perhaps being due to the fact that most buxom female present was, in a very literal sense, artificial.

"Anyway," said Steel Lace, in conclusion, "There's no place nearby to land a hopper, and it's almost too close for one, anyway. You'll need to go out to our boat shed and get a floatplane."

* * *

Another reason for the Bay Area Guardians to be involved was their motorpool. They had a large combined boathouse and hangar on San Francisco Bay which contained a couple of submersibles, several conventional surface boats, a couple of hovercraft and a hydrofoil, plus three amphibious aircraft.

"Good afternoon, folks," said the older man who greeted them, as the quartet left the dedicated pneumatic subway which ran between the headquarters building and the enclosed wharf he managed. "Steel Lace called ahead, and said you'd be needin' a plane."

"Thank you, Charlie," said Mesa. "Yeah, we've got to make a trip to northern Washington State."

"Well, the Viking is all fueled and ready to go. She'll hold all of ya' and with the auxiliary tanks has enough JP for the round trip."

"Thanks," said Mesa, smiling and nodding. "Cumulous, you're checked out on that, aren't you?"

"As Steel Lace well knows," said the aeronautical super, who besides being able to fly on his own was the best pilot on this investigation team.

"Excellent. Well, we better get on our way."

"Where is it we're heading, again?" said Cumulous. "I definitely want to file a flight plan."

His costume was a full-body sort, very snug and streamlined, all in shades of pale blue, with goggles over his eyes.

"The old Kravaal property. It's on a small island in Silver Lake, the one in the North Cascades National Park near the Canadian border in Washington State. Today that whole area is in the Park, but that island used to be private property."

The plane they took was the only one available to the Bay Area Guardians which could carry enough people, had enough range and could land on water. Fortunately, the custom modified plane was also the fastest of the three amphibious aircraft available.

The aircraft was a modern, light twin turboprop, equipped with retractable floats. The floats could not pull fully into the hull, like standard retractable landing gear, but they did pull flush with it, to reduce drag. The ride was therefore quick for a plane which could land on water. The trip was still a long one.

As Cumulous intended, they were on a filed flight plan. However, there was no air traffic control for the actual lake area. He found the specific island with no problem, and flew back and forth over it and the surrounding water.

"Trees have grown so high I can't make out any structures on the ground," he reported, as they pulled up after another pass. "Though I do see a dock on the south shore. Anyone else see anything?"

"I am sensing a great deal of incongruous metal and some other out of place materials," said Andrea. "I can't actually see a house or anything else constructed, except that dock you mentioned."

"I guess that's our target, then."

He flew a short distance away from the island, extended the floats and eased the plane down. Given his powers, the conditions for landing were perfect. Given his skill with that specific plane, so was the actual landing. Cumulous taxied the plane up to the old dock and shut off the engines.

"I don't think this thing is safe," said Mesa, from the door of the plane, as he looked out at the rotting wooden structure. "Not to walk on or even to tie the plane to."

"Break out the paddles and get us to the beach, then," said Cumulous. "It's not far, and there's a clear area directly ahead. We can tie up to a tree there."

Partly by paddling, partly by Mesa pushing - carefully - on the decrepit dock with his paddle, he and Lungfish got the plane beached. The latter then jumped out and pulled the plane firmly aground.

"There!" he announced, after tying a proper nautical knot in the line running from plane to sturdy tree. "At least our ride won't blow away, now. Unless it takes the tree with it!"

"I don't think this is where that fisherman came onto the island," said Andrea, looking around as she clambered ashore across the top of one of the floats. "There's the traces of an old path over there, going from the dock inland, but it's very overgrown and the growth is intact. In fact, there are no signs anyone has forced a way through the vegetation anywhere around here."

"Well, he said he went into the house seeking shelter, and that's where he saw whatever he saw," said Mesa. "So, that's where we need to go, however we get there. Presumably, that's where the path leads. Guess I'll play human bulldozer."

"Better you than me," said Andrea. "My skin is harder to repair."

"You do have beautiful, café au lait skin," said Cumulous, who had a bit of a crush on Andrea.

"Thank you," she said, favoring him with a smile. "I selected the color myself."

Actually, she had selected her entire appearance, including apparent gender, once her parents - the Kennimans - decided she was old enough to make such choices. Mesa - covering a snicker over that exchange - first went diagonally from the beach to the old path, then along that trail. The only difference Mesa could tell between off the path and on was the age of the growth. Apparently, the path had originally been paved in some manner not now apparent, which had slowed the vegetative takeover. However, soon they could, indeed, see a structure ahead.

"I think I can make out other buildings on the island," said Mesa, the tallest of the group, as he forced his way through the thick growth on the old, overgrown path. "Cumulous, could you take a look?"

There was just enough room between the upper part of the undergrowth and the lower branches of the mature trees for their flyer to thread his way cautiously around, through the air. The others soon reached the large, stone porch at the front double-door of the main building, thanks to Mesa's path clearing. They waited there for Cumulous, who landed beside them.

"There's some outbuildings, but they're all in worse shape than this. This also seems to be the only thing which fits the description of 'house.' By the way, it's larger than I thought. More like a Summer home than a fishing cottage. I could see at least two other entrances."

Mesa rattled the door.

"It's also a lot more solid than it looks."

"You!" someone yelled. "What are you doing?! Stop that!"

"Uh... what?" said Mesa looking towards the sound of the voice. He seemed confused.

"Get away from there! In fact, you people get off this island! This is private property! All of it!"

There was a disturbance in some of the weeds grown up around the house, and the source of the voice finally became visible. The man who appeared was tall and lean bordering on gaunt, and dressed for the outdoors. He stopped at one end of the porch, to glare up at the quartet from the Bay Area Guardians. He seemed completely unfazed to be confronting several people in colorful costumes. Even though Mesa, alone, was several times his weight.

"This is a national park," said Andrea, eyeing her companions, who all seemed stunned speechless, with concern. "We're here to investigate..."

"This is private property!"

"This island - the lake and the land around and on it - are part of the Park," said Andrea, firmly.

"The Park was created in 1968," said the man, angrily. "My great-grandfather build a vacation home for the family here long before that, and we still keep it up. This whole island is our property, no matter what the feds say! So go away! Don't come back!"

Without a word, the quartet turned and walked calmly back to the plane. Andrea was not affected by whatever was controlling her teammates, but went along with them out of uncertainty.

Part Three

"They're still doing an inventory on that body farm," said Drake, once he and Vic were comfortably settled. "So far everyone who is still there - and I don't mean the employees - is supposed to be there. However, they - by which I do mean the employees - have discovered that some of the bodies don't match the descriptions in the documents. The management isn't sure yet if legitimate donations were replaced by the ones who don't match - and, if that is the case, what happened to the ones which were supposed to be there - or if they're somehow extra, or some combination."

He had asked Vic to come to his office near the end of the regular workday, as a supplement to the usual whole-office briefing in the conference room that morning. One particularly welcome announcement today had been that the office had been recently approved to acquire another employee. So far, Drake hadn't found anyone, but he assured them he was working on that.

"You gotta admit that's a clever way to dispose of a body without attracting attention," said Vic. "If you have someone on the inside to handle the paperwork, I mean. If one of the subjects hadn't literally gotten up and walked away..."

"They have a suspicion as to who might have doctored the paperwork," said Drake. "They won't tell me, but they're working with their local FBI office. I've also contacted medical schools in the area and every other institution I could think of which might accept bodies for legitimate reasons. Including morgues and teaching hospitals."

"I hadn't even thought of that," said Vic, startled. "Yeah, if that place is killing enough supers with their fights, they might need to use other venues. Just to spread the bodies around. If they are killing at lot of supers, though, how come nobody's heard of it?"

"So far, no-one in those other places has found anything worse than an occasional clerical error, so there's not likely many dying," said Drake, who was well aware that Vic still had a lot to learn about investigation, and that part of his job was her continuing education in that area. "I've routed all these inquiries through local FBI offices, asking that they check for extraneous or replaced bodies, without mentioning the super charity fights or The Super Battle Federation. Even at the body farm. Just that we have reason to believe someone might be using this or that facility to hide a body. So far, no-one seems to have twigged about the origin of the suspicious bodies."

"This could mean that whoever was charged by the SBF to handle bodies is now having to stockpile them somehow," said Vic, thoughtfully. "That might lead to a break, especially if someone gets desperate to get rid of them."

"Even disposal at sea is tricky these days, given shipping traffic and environmental monitoring," said Drake. "Anyway, there is one more matter I need to discuss with you before we both head home."

* * *

"What's wrong?" Michelle asked, when Vic welcomed her to their apartment with a firm hug later that afternoon. Not only was Vic looking upset, Michelle could tell that her spouse had been cleaning and straightening. A sure sign she was bothered by something.

"Because of Lady Green and the Detroit office getting an additional non-super employee, they're talking about reassigning me," said Vic, sourly. "Oh, it's currently just talk, among some of the upper level administrators. If there is a change it will be months from now, the way the bureaucracy works. I just want you to be aware that it might be coming."

"That's not good. I have a good position at the place where I work, with a loyal clientele!"

"Like I said, so far it's just talk," said Vic, giving her distressed wife another, briefer hug. "I think the problem is that things have been quiet on the super crime front in this area, lately. With Lady Green handling the non-super work I used to do with local cops I'm mostly just hanging around the office right now. I suspect the lull will be over soon, though."

* * *

At the Bay Area Guardians base the next day there was considerable confusion and irritation. The island team had returned after usual business hours, and except for Andrea had - unusually - all gone straight to bed, in their quarters at the Bay Area Guardians base. The android member had left a brief report of their misadventure for Steel Lace to read when she arrived in the morning, then gone to her cubicle for recharging and memory organization. A process not unlike human dreaming.

Eventually, the uncharacteristically subdued and chastened island team members met with their leader, early the next morning. There, the humans sheepishly related what had happened. They all clearly remembered their experience with the strange man, right down to all the organics obeying him without question.

"I suspect it was some sort of psionic effect, perhaps artificially generated," said Andrea, blandly. "My synthetic brain operates on a different frequency from typical organic brains."

"It definitely left us in an altered state of consciousness," said Cumulous, with a sigh. "I pretty much flew back and landed on personal autopilot. If Andrea hadn't been there to guide us in the right direction we might have just kept flying until the fuel ran out."

"Even after we docked," added Mesa, "she had to get us out of the plane and shepherd us onto the pneumatic subway. I do remember that Charlie was pretty confused at how we were acting."

"Yeah," said Cumulous, nodding. He sighed. "We should probably make a trip out there to explain what was going on."

"I was so out of it when we got in the boathouse I was about to crash in the emergency quarters there," said Lungfish, emphatically.

"Whatever it was, it was persistent," said Steel Lace, nodding herself at their comments. "Fortunately, after a good night's sleep all of you who were affected seem back to normal."

She smirked.

"Well, as normal as some of you get."

"Very funny," said Mesa. He made an aggravated sound, and slowly shook his head. "It was... weird. I never had any inkling that I should even question what I was doing."

The others affected had similar evaluations of their mental states.

"Well, we definitely need to send another group up there," said Steel Lace, with a tired sigh. "People who are natural resistors. Maybe with some of you also along, though equipped with some sort of blocking device. Oh, and definitely Andrea."

"As soon as possible," said Mesa, firmly. "Given how quickly that guy appeared they must have noticed that fisherman landing there and had someone waiting to send unwanted visitors away. They could be covering an ongoing illegal activity... or just buying time to remove evidence."

"I'll get right on it," said Steel Lace, just as firmly.

* * *

On the other side of the United States, in their mountain base not far from the East Coast, another super team was having another meeting, a bit later in their day and more routine but just as serious.

The base had been used by two teams before the Assembly took it over. Both of which had possessed at least twice as many members as the Assembly throughout their existences. Which meant that some of the function rooms - such as main meeting room, where the entire team now was gathered - were oversized for the group. This actually suited all the members quite well. Especially Maciste, who was larger than most humans.

Lucille Gorgeous was in charge of the Assembly, and she - as usual - conducted the meeting in a businesslike manner. Finally, though, after covering the more mundane matters (well, things mundane for the consideration of an active superhero team) were covered, she broached a different sort of topic.

"There is a group which is using Champion's name and likeness without permission," she said, flashing a photo of the offending costumed person on the main display. "Champion and I have already spoken about this. The Super Battle Federation is a non-profit group, and they do good work raising money for disadvantaged supers, but that does not exempt them from the law or proper manners. They are also using the names and images of several other supers not involved in their work, but those people aren't members of our team and haven't asked us for help, so we'll focus on the misuse of Champion's name and image. You can see that the actual character is dressed more like a professional wrestler, uses the stage name of Invicta, and claims she is the champion of the Super Combat Federation, which is a union for super fighters. However, the posters..."

Another image appeared on the screen, apparently artwork from some sort of advertisement. The character portrayed thereon had the previous person's lower face, but she was shown wearing a more risqué version of Champion's current outfit, including the mask, and the woman was portrayed as distinctly more curvaceous than either the real woman in the previous image or the real Champion. The text proclaimed that the matches featured "The Famous Champion, In Our Cubed Circle!"

"That reference to a 'cubed circle' means that these are cage matches," said Dr. Gorgeous. "Said cages being proper cubes, with all six sides heavily reinforced with structural integrity fields - technology which is not supposed to be in private hands, yet - and has metaloglass on the outside for added protection of the audience. Including from sonic and gas attacks. Both of which have apparently been used in these matches."

"Wow..." said Maciste, stunned. Then he frowned. "Y'know, that woman looked familiar..."

"She bears a strong resemblance to Vic," said Champion, speaking for the first time on this matter. "Not so much the physiognomy as the general physiology. That is, not in the face, but the body."

"We had our attorneys send cease and desist orders to the organization's official address, but their reply said that the office we sent the notices to was just for promotional purposes in the US. Their official response was that such notices needed to be sent to their corporate headquarters... only they won't say where those are, except that they were outside the country. We were eventually able to obtain an address in Canada, but inquiries sent there tell us to contact the US address, that they are just for promotional purposes in Canada. The actual fights are at a facility outside both countries. Even though most of the supers touted as participating are from the United States. However, they are all supposedly members of The Super Combat Federation. Though the union is not officially associated with The Super Battle Federation. To clarify, that is the actual business which organizes the fights and distributes the money they earn - after subtracting expenses - to super-specific charities."

"Which country are they actually in?" said Champion, who seemed less irritated than Dr. Gorgeous about the matter. "I mean, aren't such fights basically illegal anywhere supers are legally considered people?"

"The place is, in a sense, nonexistent," said Dr. Gorgeous, looking even more irritated. Which meant that the usually calm and self-contained super genius was irate bordering on angry. "Our legal staff investigated, and discovered that the island advertised as the location of the fights was not actually claimed by any nation."

"Somewhere in the remote Pacific, then?" said Thunderer.

"No. It's in a disputed border area between the US and Canada."

"Uh..." said Thunderer, voicing what the others hearing this were thinking.

"Just tell us," said Maciste, tiredly. He glanced over at Sharma and was irritated by her bland smile.

"The island is in the Straight of Georgia, right on the US/Canada border," said Dr. Gorgeous. The main display now showed a map of a portion of western North America, zoomed in to portions of Washington State and Vancouver and some of the Pacific Ocean. "Neither nation claims it currently, due to an agreement to leave it unclaimed until a dispute over where the border actually runs - it zig-zags pretty wildly through there - is settled. Part of the motivation for ignoring it is probably that it has been used as a base for smugglers - in both directions, depending on the era and product - for centuries. There is therefore a long tradition for no nation to want anything to do with it. As well as for some influential citizens in several nations to have good reasons for keeping it unclaimed."

"Huh," said Maciste. "So... are we legal there?"

"I don't know," said Dr. Gorgeous, looking uncomfortable. "I asked the US State Department. They told us to ask the Canadian Government. Who told me to ask the US State Department."

"Typical," said Thunderer.

"So what can we do?" said Champion.

"I have our legal department working on several possible approaches. We have made certain that the US promotional office for the organization knows the adds we are protesting are a violation of international Copyright and Trademark. We have also notified other supers whose images are being used of that fact. We are attempting to contact the organizers of the matches directly. We are informing the media of the inaccuracies involved. Not yet calling it a deliberate deception."

"Why do I have the feeling that we're gonna have to go up there and bust some asses?" said Maciste, actually looking eager.

"Because you always feel we're going to have to go somewhere and bust some asses," said Champion, with a laugh. She sobered. "Unfortunately, you're usually right. By the time things are bad enough for us to go in, it's usually beyond the point of negotiation."

* * *

"Thank you for inviting us over," said Steel Lace, before taking the first sip of her tea.

The old, downtown San Francisco loft had seen many strange visitors during the more than a century it had been the primary home of the building's owner. There had been circus acrobats, stage magicians, real magicians, artists and inventors of many types, explorers, pilots and scientific adventurers. Arguably, however, none of those were quite as strange as the owner, herself. She was small of stature, huge of presence, and obviously not human, at least in the details. Doctor Fenrisa Freysdottir, aka Runner, was a member of one of the other sapient species currently inhabiting the Earth alongside Homo sapiens sapiens. Most of the members of that last species were not even aware of the current existence of the others. The Bluegrass Elves were descended from a New World primate, and as a separate species was actually a bit older than Homo sapiens sapiens. However, even for one of the Bluegrass Elves Runner was... unusual. They rarely had any body hair, except on the tops of their feet, and had flat faces similar to those of humans. Runner was covered in thick fur and had a blunt but definite muzzle, with claws on her fingers and toes. The latter being obvious just now, since she was, as usual when in her home, barefoot. As well, despite being a bit short compared to a typical, adult human, she was a bit tall for one of her species.

"Oh, my pleasure," said Dr. Freysdottir, with a toothy smile which revealed impressive canines. "When Tiger mentioned that island and Dr. Kravaal I realized I knew some things about that situation which might not be in any records."

"Please, continue," said Steel Lace. For some reason, perhaps because of their host's own accent, whenever the leader of the Bay Area Guardians was speaking with Dr. Freysdottir her own Alabama accent came out. As well as her southern manners.

"You actually should have checked before you went there," said Dr. Freysdottir, her tone mildly critical. "That place was involved in some odd medical experiments in the Twenties and Thirties, and there were rumors of other suspicious activities there at several distinct intervals since. The whole family is one, long string of mad scientists. Right up to the current Mordecai Kravaal."

"We did check," said Mesa, somehow managing one of the delicate-looking teacups with his very large hands. "We knew about the previous Dr. Kravaal's experiments. However, the only current information available to us about that specific location is that it was an island on a lake in a national park. Officially, it was supposed to have been long abandoned and the structures there derelict."

"Huh. Well, the lake was carved out by glaciers during the ice ages - before my time, by the way - and the islands are where glaciers left mounds of debris. With that particular one there's a large chunk of glacier which was somehow buried, covered and insulated by the sediment which piled up to make the island. Dig down and you've got a natural deep freeze. Which is why one of the family members used it for research into low temperature treatment of malignant diseases, and another for research into cryogenic suspension.

"Leon Kravaal is the man who originally claimed the island and had the first structures built there. The Kravaals, with the Özils and a few other lines, are descendants of famous mad scientist Antoine Pratt. The current claimant to the property is a collateral descendant of Leon Kravaal, a man named Unduly Özil. However, there have been several others among the kin of Leon who have claimed or tried to claim what's there. Some have just moved in and started work, without getting permission. In recent decades, though, the family has agreed to leave the island alone while they collectively try to get it back from the federal government. It's a sort-of sour grapes arrangement."

"There's few enemies more bitter than family you've gotten on the bad side of," said Mesa, feelingly. Perhaps speaking from personal experience. "All that makes me think that the guy who chased us off was telling the truth. At least, as he knew it. He considers the island to be his family's property and doesn't want anybody fooling with it."

"A lot of that we already knew, including the current claimant's name, but some of it is new to us," said Steel Lace. "Can you provide contact information for him? We did find a blurry image of Özil. That showed enough that I don't think the guy who ordered our people off the island is him. That was probably a flunky."

"Unduly," said Mesa, with a slight smile and a shake of his head. "The things parents name their children. It's bound to cause problems during their childhoods. No wonder so many masterminds and mads have strange names."

"Uhm..." said Dr. Freysdottir, frowning in thought. "I don't know of any current contact information, unfortunately. Can the Park Service help?"

"No. They say all that was settled when the lake was made a national park in the Sixties. They also said that the island is definitely federal land, now, with no chance of any of the previous owners getting any of it back. They have no current contact information on the family. Neither do they know anything about any legal attempts by the descendants of the former owners to reclaim their property."

"Let me guess," said Runner, her frown replaced with a scowl. "They not only know of no claims on the island but state flatly there's no activity there now."

"Exactly. That's why they wanted someone to check out that fisherman's report. Oh, and ours, now that we told them about what happened and asked for additional information. Their attitude is that since they asked us, and our people were mind controlled, that makes it even more our problem."

"Typical."

Part Four

"What in the Hell are you watching?" said Michelle, as she came into their apartment's living room after some post-dinner cleanup in the kitchen.

"Hot Box Office Special Program," said Vic, grinning. "It's featuring the famous X-Rated comedienne, Cherry Crosby."

"Is she the one who performs in the nude while pretending to masturbate?" said Michelle, sounding dubious.

"That was one time, for a stage play," said Vic, mock seriously.

"Think I'll pass."

"Oh, it's another X-rated performance artist who does that," said Vic, straight-faced. "He's on later."

"EWW! ICK!! NO!!!"

"Okay, okay," said Vic, laughing. "I was actually about to change channels, anyway. "

"Sure you were," said Michelle, grinning, as she dropped onto the couch beside Vic and gave her a hug. "How about watching that new classic western DVD we just got?"

"Works for me."

* * *

Once more, a group of the Bay Area Guardians prepared to fly to Silver Lake.

"This time we take Tiger with us," said Mesa, glancing at Steel Lace to see her nod in agreement.

"Yeah. He's a talented engineer who is familiar with mask tech, old as well as new. Which on top of his resistance to mind control and psionic influence means he'd be very handy investigating an old, mad science lab and dealing with possible interference from that strange man. So it's him, Andrea, and you with a psi damper."

"Those two might be able to handle me if I get controlled," said Mesa, smugly.

* * *

The trio took the same plane, this time with Tiger piloting.

"I am quite capable of controlling this aircraft," said Andrea. Despite maintaining her usual mild demeanor, the others could tell she was irritated. Especially Tiger, with his empathy. He remembered how surprised he and others had been to learn this worked on the android.

"Sure," said Tiger, amiably, "but I need the flying hours."

Andrea allowed herself to be mollified. The three superhumans settled in for a long, quiet trip. Until...

"I spy with my little eye..." said Mesa.

"Oh, please," said Tiger, looking back from the controls and rolling his eyes.

"Don't. Start." said Andrea.

Mesa sighed and muttered something unintelligible under his breath, but otherwise remained quiet for the rest of the trip.

Without Cumulous along the landing was not quite as smooth this time; there was a wind raising a bit of chop. However, they made it safely to the shore, where they again beached their plane and tied up, to the different tree but with a similar knot. This was actually at a different part of the island's shore than they had beached on previously. They now had better information about where the fisherman had landed, and used the path he described as having taken. One which appeared to be both well worn and recently traversed.

"These are animal tracks," said Tiger, after briefly squatting to examine something. "Moose, mostly. Be careful. They're big and can be aggressive."

"How did one of those get here?!" said Mesa.

"They're good swimmers. Maybe there's something on this island they like to eat."

They proceeded until they could see the house, and paused.

"All's quiet," said Mesa, in a low voice.

"Let's hope it stays that way," said Tiger. "Look, there's the side door the fisherman said he used."

"There does appear to have been recent activity there," said Andrea. "By which I don't mean moose browsing."

"What did Cumulous say about the condition of the roof?" said Tiger, as they reached the steps.

"Uhm, I don't recall him saying anything specific about that," said Mesa, staying on the ground as Andrea climbed onto the small porch and examined the door. "Just that this building was in better shape than the others."

"The fisherman said he went only into this particular structure?" said Andrea, examining the door.

"Yeah," said Mesa, nodding.

"This door has been replaced recently," said Andrea. "It has been made to look old and weathered, but it is a modern, steel clad door with an exterior veneer which resembles long exposed wood. The period lock installed in it does not actually engage the socket in the frame. Instead, the door is barred from the inside."

"Okay," said Tiger, after moving beside her and closing his eyes for a few seconds to use his sense of perception to double-check what Andrea had discovered. "Let's see if we can get inside some way which will be less noticeable than busting in here."

"I think I better wait somewhere out of sight," said Mesa, with a sigh. "I'm just not built for stealth."

"He does have a point," said Andrea. "He can keep watch from beside this entrance, out of easy sight in the bushes here, to spot anyone looking around for intruders. Meanwhile, we look for a way to intrude as unnoticeably as possible."

"Works for me," said Tiger. He glanced at Mesa. "You got your ear bud in? Okay, call out of you need to, and we'll do the same."

The pair were nearly around to the main entrance of the building when Andrea touched Tiger on the arm. Seeing she had his attention, she pointed to a window just above them.

"It appears to be unlatched," she said, quietly.

"Any alarms?"

"None that I can detect."

Tiger boosted Andrea closer, with her eventually standing casually balanced on his upraised hand. After a bit more examination she slid the bottom part of the window carefully up. This obviously had not been opened in many years, and even with her care made some noise, but not much. The android climbed inside and stepped to one side. The supernaturally strong and agile Tiger then jumped through, rolled deftly to his feet to avoid making noise and grinned at Andrea. Who had already turned to close the window. Tiger scowled briefly at being ignored, then sighed in resignation.

"There's the hole in the floor the fisherman saw," said Tiger, quietly. He looked around. "Most of this side of the house is one big room. There's the front door, to our left, and the door we just tried, to our right."

"Copy," said Mesa. "All still quiet out here."

"Looks like a simple bar across the door. We'll let you in."

Soon the three were back together, the side door closed and barred behind them. Getting out, even through a wall, would not be a problem for any of them.

"That's some hole," said Mesa, impressed and keeping his distance. He looked up. "I'd say the roof leaked some time in the past - probably decades ago - and it was repaired, but the floor was left open because they weren't actually using this room. Looks like all they did was remove the rotten wood."

"Could be," said Tiger. "Let's try to find some way down besides jumping. I can't see a lot through that hole, but there is definitely ice down there."

"The floor has actually been reinforced, all the way to the edge," said Andrea. "I am also sensing clues which indicate there were extensive renovations below. Perhaps the hole was left to allow large pieces of equipment to be brought in. The front entrance is a double door."

"Interesting," said Tiger, paying attention to what she said but distracted by his search. "The only piece of furniture in here is that old clock. Okay, playing a hunch, here. Maybe whoever remodeled the place was a Batman fan."

"What?" said Mesa, as Tiger approached a long-case clock on one wall.

"Batman," said Andrea, after a quick search of her internal popular culture database. "Fictional costumed adventurer. The connection with here and now being that an early portrayal of the entrance to the cave under his mansion had it being accessed through a grandfather clock."

"There's definitely something behind this," said Tiger, frowning in concentration as he felt around the old clock. "Here's some sort of latch. Hang on, it's pretty corroded. Fortunately, the case is substantial."

The clock turned out to be hinged to the wall on one side. Tiger managed to carefully pull the heavy piece of archaic timekeeping equipment around far enough to reveal a narrow flight of stairs beyond.

"Looks like this runs inside the wall between rooms," said Tiger, nodding, as he pushed the case the rest of the way open. "Okay, flashlights on for those who need them."

"Which is just me," said Mesa, with a sigh, as he pulled a powerful, compact light from one of his large pockets. He held it high above his head, to light they way for Tiger. "Lead on, MacDuff."

The air upstairs had been cool. As the three supers descended it grew positively frigid. Fortunately, none of the trio were susceptible to these temperatures. Once they were at the bottom of the stairs they spread out a bit on the icy floor and simply stood and looked.

"No power," said Andrea, scanning. "Everything in here is at ambient temperature, and has been for decades."

"I see several bodies on the floor. Some of them straight ahead, at the base of that big, vertical tube in front of the main console," said Mesa. He shook his head in frustration. "Everything is covered in rime. Can't really see more from here."

"This place is filled with repurposed war and post-war military tech," said Tiger, sounding impressed. "Much of it radio gear. A lot of what's here is obviously custom built, though. Like that tube Mesa noted and the row of other vertical tubes to the left. Each of which is more than large enough to hold a person."

"One of the Kravaals experimented with cryogenic suspension," said Mesa, his voice quiet. "Could there still be anyone alive in those tubes?"

"Possibly," said Andrea. "However, the bodies on the floor have obvious freezing damage."

"One of the problems with freezing someone is that ice crystals - like crystals in general - tend to grow and consolidate, the smallest losing to the largest," said Tiger. "That disrupts the tissues, usually fatally, in living things which aren't prepared for hibernation. A good cryopreservative can prevent that, as can a rapid enough freezing, which creates vitrification, followed by keeping the body at true cryogenic temperatures. Those... bodies on the floor show damage typical of people who have simply been frozen. Though I don't think that was the cause of death."

"I agree," said Andrea. "Though there is perceptible damage, I am not detecting anything which might be the actual cause of death."

Tiger began carefully walking across the slippery floor towards the bodies.

"Wonder what their power source was..."

"Cumulous said one of the outbuildings probably had generators in it," said Mesa.

"Ah. Yeah, that sort of arrangement is typical of isolated installations from when this place was built. Even those not on islands."

He reached one of the bodies, crouched and stared. In the dim light he used his sense of perception far more than his eyes.

"Interesting."

Andrea moved gracefully past him to the single tube in this section of the lab. She stopped, startled, and looked down at the base of the tube.

"There is a child, here. A female, most likely in her late pre-teens."

"Damn," said Mesa, still quietly.

Andrea placed her hands on the tube - being careful to avoid the bodies on the floor - and cleared a patch of frost. Tiger rose and moved beside her.

"There is a costumed woman inside," said Andrea. "Floating in some sort of thick liquid. I believe it is a liquid fluorocarbon. Which explains why it is not frozen."

She carefully removed the frost from more of the tube.

"That woman in the costume... she looks like the original Radio Star," said Tiger, frowning, as the contents of the tube were better revealed.

"According to my sensors," said Andrea, "she's a kindred spirit. An artificial human. What is commonly known as an android. Though a very primitive one."

Was there a bit of smugness, there? Never mind...

"I thought that guy looked familiar," said Tiger, suddenly snapping his fingers, and glancing down at one of the frozen bodies. "That's the original Mordecai! He disappeared about the same time as Radio Star, too. After a brief career of causing problems with his artificial people."

"He and his son and grandson are all infamous for making androids," said Mesa, nodding.

"Indeed. It was studying the work of the current Mordecai which led to my parents experimenting with androids. That eventually led to me."

Tiger crouched again, to better examine the frosty body on the floor. However, his attention soon turned to the oversized glasses laying near the fallen man's head.

"Those aren't just glasses," he said, after a moment. "Whatever vision correction service they provided, the lenses are also multi-layered. Probably served as some sort of display. There's even a fold-down, telescoping antenna. I'm also sensing circuitry in those huge frames, especially in the ear pieces. I'd have to check in a proper lab, but I bet they're TCI equipment."

"The which?" said Mesa, who had extremely good dexterity, but - given his size and weight - was not about to risk walking on the icy floor. A slip by him could easily result in damage to something which wasn't him.

"Trans-cranial induction," said Andrea. "A way to put information directly into the brain. Supposedly not developed until decades after this lab was last in use."

She looked around for a moment, then pointed.

"There appears to be a jack at the end of a cable, over there, suspended on some sort of hook to keep it handy. It would be a perfect fit for the socket on the left side of the frames."

"Yeah," said Tiger, nodding slowly, as he looked at the console she indicated. "Probably used radio - whatever encoding format he invented back then - when the data rate was low or he needed the mobility. Then plugged in when he needed a higher data rate."

"What was all of this for?" said Mesa, plaintively.

"We may never know," said Tiger, with a shrug. "However, I see a couple of reel-to-reel recorders over there. Whether they were used for voice or data or a combination, they could tell us."

"They are cold enough for the cellulose acetate substrate used back then to be very, very brittle," said Andrea, cautiously.

"Yeah. I think we need to get a full forensic team in here. Warm this place - carefully - and find out just what we've got."

"And what the Hell happened," said Mesa, slowly.

Part Five

Back in San Francisco, the trio made their report. Steel Lace was both fascinated and irritated.

"I need to contact the Park Service about this, soonest," she said, after the exploration team finished. "This will probably be a multi-agency project. At the very least, the FBI needs to send a forensics team there to figure out just what the Hell happened."

"The Park Service probably won't like that," said Tiger, with a smirk.

"They asked us for our help and advice," said Steel Lace. "I'll advise them this is what they need to do. Very firmly. While also telling them I've already sent copies of the report to the FBI and the Bureau of Special Resources. As well as that they - the Park Service - need to keep people away from that island until the FBI - or whoever - can investigate it."

"I bet we still wind up helping with this, though," said Mesa, actually seeming a bit eager. "Which is fine with me. I want to solve this mystery!"

* * *

"Well, I'm going to be on detached service for a while," said Vic, when Michelle got home from her job a few days later. "I've been assigned to help the FBI with yet another old, underground mad scientist base!"

"This isn't that transfer you were talking about."

"No. Just a temporary reassignment." Vic said, reassuringly. "Frankly, I don't know why they're sending me. They already have a bunch of FBI agents on scene investigating. If they need super help, Tricorne are the ones with most of the recent experience exploring old supervillain bases. When I called them to check, though, they hadn't heard anything about it! Anyway, my boss told me to pack for a week in an isolated area. They'll cycle in someone else by then."

"I better help you pack," said Michelle, pragmatically. "You're bound to forget something. For example, your period is due to start in about a week and a half."

"Don't remind me," said Vic, rolling her eyes.

"See?" said Michelle, smirking briefly. "You don't even like to think about that. Well, who does... Anyway, it can come early, you know, or you could be there longer than they expect. So, better to be prepared."

"I wish you could come with me," said Vic, quietly, almost shyly.

"Maybe next time," said Michelle, also quietly.

* * *

Vic's arrival at the island two days later was very different from that experienced by either of the two teams of Bay Area Guardians. Which expeditions she had only learned about at her final briefing for this mission.

"We tore out the old, rotting dock," said the Park Service ranger who was piloting the boat taking Vic and a load of supplies to the island. "Put in a floating dock and then cleared the brush on the path from the shore to the house. All stuff we in the Park Service are good at. We even have experience with murder investigations. Mad science stuff, not so much."

He deftly brought the boat up to the new fixture, cut the motor them tied them to the modern dock, fore and aft. Vic noted that the floating dock showed signs of use and figured it was something they kept on hand for just such emergencies. The ranger gestured at a pile of boxes in the boat, covered with a tarp.

"Can you help me with these supplies?"

"Sure," said Vic, moving to start hefting boxes onto the dock. "Have there been any more appearances by the mysterious influencer?"

"Nobody here but us chickens," said a new voice. "Oh, and the occasional moose."

Vic and the ranger looked up, startled, to see a man in regular - though rugged - clothing, standing on the doc.

"Tiger!" said Vic. She had never met the man, but knew a great deal about him. She certainly recognized her fellow super martial artist from images.

"I can help with those. I'm going to be using a lot of it, so that's only fair."

"Oh, hey," said the ranger, who had apparently met Tiger before, grinning. "The more the merrier."

Vic had hoped her first meeting with the other martial arts super would be more social, but both were immediately put to work moving the boxes to the camp.

Between the three of them - Tiger carrying the biggest part of the load by a considerable measure, with Vic a distant second and the ranger a meager third - they soon had the supplies delivered. At least with Tiger's help they only needed one trip. Their destination was the small camp which had been built in a cleared area near the front door of the house. There were four full tents, and a large canopy over what seemed to be a common area, which included the kitchen and eating tables. With Vic and the supplies delivered, the ranger said his goodbye and left.

"Did you get all your luggage off the boat?" said Tiger, once Vic had put her load of supplies away. He grinned at Vic's affirmation. "Good thing; I already told the ranger to leave. Anyway, I'm glad to see that you brought a backpack. Is that case your armor?"

"Yeah," said Vic. "Don't know how much use it'll be here, but I have it if I need it."

"At least both your pieces are reasonable," said Tiger, smirking. "We've actually had people arrive with wheeled luggage, who then complained that the wheels weren't much use on the rough ground. As if that were the fault of the people already here. Okay, you're in this tent, here. You're sharing with two other women. There's a camp toilet and a camp shower out beyond the canopy, both clearly labeled and widely separated. The house is not fit for living in - too much mold - and we are also considering the whole thing a potential crime scene. If you want to leave your unpacking until later I can show you the work site now."

"Let's go!" said Vic dumping her large pack and case beside her assigned cot and symbolically dusting her hands together.

* * *

"Brrrr..." said Vic, as they entered the frigid basement laboratory. She looked at Tiger. "Aren't you cold?"

The place was lit with portable glow panels on stands; lights which produced almost no heat. In fact, that those working here were making an effort to keep the overall temperature below freezing was obvious. Though the room was cold, most of the ice and frost had been carefully removed from equipment and paths across the concrete floor. The bodies were gone, as well. The human bodies.

"No," said Tiger absently. "Except for the basement, the house was emptied of all belongings, right down to the furniture. That one clock, upstairs, was left, which is why I thought it might conceal something. Okay this is agent Folgert; he's in charge. Philo, this is Vic Peltior, from the Bureau of Special Resources, out of Detroit."

"I'm very pleased to meet you," said agent Folgert, offering his hand. "Especially since you're an experienced federal LEO. Most of my team are lab-only people."

"I did have some crime scene investigation classes in college, and learned a lot more related to that on the job. However, I'm not actually qualified to do anything down here except provide another pair of hands. Though the main reason they gave me for being here is to protect you folks if that guy who chased off the first team of Bay Area Guardians returns, or he has friends."

"I'm sort'a doing both jobs so far, being a resister and rather strong," said Tiger, minimally. "Unfortunately, I'm needed back at the Bay Area Guardians base, soon."

"Let me show you around and introduce you," said Folgert, gesturing towards the nearest group of investigators.

Their first stop was straight ahead from the bottom of the stairs: The lone tube in the middle of the room.

"She's so lifelike," said Vic, as she stared at the costumed woman floating in the tube. "Excuse me for being morbid, but she looks like a fresh drowning victim, still underwater."

Vic shivered a bit at the events which were responsible for this memory. Folgert nodded in sympathy, then gestured at the tube.

"We still don't know if there was a human - well, superhuman - Radio Star and Mordecai was planning to replace her with this, or this was the one and only. If the latter, well, why?"

"Did you recover those tapes?" said Vic, noting that the recording gear built into the nearby elaborate - and typical mastermind/mad inventor tech - control panel had no reels.

"Yes. We're still working on reading them. They had a proprietary format which Mordecai must have developed for his own use. All we know so far is that each tape has multiple channels, with one of those apparently reserved for voice. Only the voice isn't plain analog, but encoded or scrambled, somehow. Fortunately, we also found several lab notebooks in plain - if technical - English, which have been a big help."

Folgert sighed, and looked tired.

"Yeah," said Vic, nodding in her turn. "Masterminds, gadgeteers and mad inventors all tend to be paranoid. They're always afraid someone will steal their ideas. That's why so few of them sell their stuff commercially. Well, that and the problem that most people can barely use their complicated controls, even with the inventor instructing them. I bet those notebooks have a bunch of unconventional usage of words and terms, if only because no-one else had done what he was doing then, so he made up his own."

"You win the bet," said Tiger, grinning.

"We still aren't even sure what killed the actual people we found here," said Folgert. "They all had signs of major cerebral hemorrhage, but what caused that?! A group of half a dozen people don't all just bleed into the brain at once by coincidence! A typical cerebral hemorrhage wouldn't kill everyone who got it so quickly they wouldn't show signs of reaction, either! However, you'll find no signs in the bodies or the scene that they had any time to react."

"There is a history of people here being overcome by a cryoprotective gas, but even they showed some reaction," said Tiger, shrugging. "One of them actually managed to get out of the small room where the exposure occurred before being overcome."

The tour next covered some of the equipment in the room - though only briefly, since the techs were still figuring out what much of it did - then went to the far end of the row of tubes along the left wall. Much of the floor was still coated in ice, but several paths had been cleared. All of the storage units - which is what the tubes had turned out to be - had had enough frost removed for the contents to be seen. Unlike "Radio Star" these androids were all naked.

"You can see the progression," said agent Barrow, pointing to the large figure in the furthest tube, back in a poorly lit corner. "That earliest construct was patterned on a very large and muscular man. It is basically a light alloy frame with control systems and actuators and a rubber covering. Not very convincing, though it might pass for human at a distance. It was more like a realistic, motorized mannikin than something intended to imitate a human in detail; like one of the early animatronic units at those theme parks."

"I'm starting to understand why I'm the one the Bureau sent here," said Vic, wryly. "I suspect my experience with animatronics and robots was likely a significant factor. Even though that was actually pretty limited."

"As you go along the line the constructs become more and more lifelike," said Barrow, indicating the tubes with a sweeping gesture. "Including getting smaller, though the last in this row was still a bit above average human size."

"Even Radio Star was tall and broad-shouldered for a woman," said Folgert.

"There's something else," said agent Tombe, whose immediate ancestors were from Haiti, pointedly. "Yes, as they got smaller they became equally male and female. However, they are all White."

"Well, that first Mordecai was known to be racist," said Tiger, sourly. "He probably saw White as the only skin color worthy of being simulated. Even though under the skin everyone is typically the same. I understand he even rejected blood transfusions, because he heard they mixed blood from different 'races.'"

Vic noted that Folgert and Barrow looked a bit embarrassed. Fortunately, one of the techs working on a shorter tube - actually more of a tub - at the end of the row near the stairs called out just then.

"Hey, over here! This is... weird."

"Weird even for this place?" said Folgert, as he and the others hurried to join the tech.

The tech had managed to get the lid off the tank. Floating inside were...

"Hands?!" said Folgert, backing away a bit in reflex.

"An assortment of different sizes and shapes," said the tech, nodding.

Tiger began humming something. Vic needed a moment to recognize the tune as "Worms." She smirked, briefly, then very deliberately became serious. At least, on the outside.

"Why have hands separate?" said Barrow, outraged at this added complication. "Why have so many, especially when all the bodies in the tubes already have hands?"

"Maybe to have different fingerprints," said Tiger, shrugging, and interrupting his humming. "Maybe because hands are difficult and he needed multiple tries to get something satisfactory. These could all be rejects, considered unsuitable for some reason. In which case we'll probably find a bin of ears around here, somewhere."

Vic shuddered, briefly.

* * *

"Okay, while we still have had no direct contact," said Dr. Gorgeous, towards the end of another meeting of the Assembly, "we have more information on that island in the Strait of Georgia where The Super Battle Federation holds those super fights. While some parts of the enterprise seem to be slightly shady and others very difficult to learn about, the actual bouts are apparently legitimate and earn a great deal of money for super-related charities. Patrons can watch on a pay channel, or pay more and go to the island and sit in the actual arena. Only, many of the supers who have told someone they were going there have not appeared online or in the known cage matches. Also there have been a few supers who supposedly went there later turning up dead in civilian clothes and under other names at that body farm, with no clue as to how they got there. Bizarrely, some of the deceased supers are also apparently still competing in the matches! The suspicion is that if someone who died was popular enough, that after they died someone of similar build and abilities was given their costume to continue the matches."

"Do we have permission to go there, yet?" said Maciste.

"No. However, since both countries are refusing to accept responsibility for what happens there, we could probably just go. Something to keep in mind. The Bay Area Guardians are working to acquire current maps of the facility. For now all we have are the diagrams in their publicity documents, satellite photos, and some old information from the Sixties and earlier. Though keep in mind that any action against this institution could cause a cessation of the donation of funds they are currently giving to several worthy causes."

There was some general dissatisfied muttering at this.

"We are working with the Bay Area Guardians and some others on acquiring more info. They have already made a connection between The Super Battle Federation, which hosts the fights, and a local employment office in San Francisco which has been connected with some suspicious activities. Many of the clients of that business are supers who are known be members of the union the Super Combat Federation. They alerted the Bay Area Guardians to the disappearances of some of their members, which started the investigation. The Bay Area Guardians effort includes trying to locate supers known to have used this agency who actually have subsequently appeared in the fights. However, it seems it's very hard to verify they're all there of their own choice. Even those participating in the openly broadcast fights are difficult to contact."

"It's coming together," said Champion, with a sigh. "Slowly, but it's coming together."

Part Six

Bless modern technology, thought Vic, as her brilliant phone found a useable cell tower and connected, in spite of being on an island in a lake in a large park. The only place she had found to get a signal was standing on the front porch of the old house. Something the FBI agents had told her about. As she waited for someone to answer, she watched the sun moving slowly towards the mountain to the west. She hadn't thought to call her office until late in the working day for the office in Detroit. Partly because there was still plenty of daylight here.

"Special Agent in Charge Drake," said Vic's boss, once the federal building's receptionist had directed the call.

"This is agent Peltior," said Vic, remembering that their office didn't have caller ID for some technical reason, even though the receptionist did. She wished their office could get a direct line, but supposedly there were also technical reasons why that hadn't happened. Something about how few employees were in their office. At least after hours or for emergencies she could justify calling her boss' personal cell. "Got a quick update."

She gave him the digest version of what she had learned that first day on the island.

"Anything else?" said Drake.

"Not from here," she said. "Well, except for having to avoid some of the wildlife on the island, which seems to have little wariness of humans. A couple of people have even been chased by moose, and they sometimes come into our camp. Anyway, I'll let you know more when I do. However, if your FBI contacts can let you know anything, please pass it along. I have a good cell connection, surprisingly."

"Will do."

* * *

"We have an update on the identities of two of the people found frozen in that lab," said Folgert, the next day, in a briefing at the tables in the general-purpose area under the canopy. "The man with the glasses was definitely the first Mordecai Kravaal, who was only in his mid-thirties when he disappeared, after a strong start in the mastermind business. The girl was Catherine Brandt."

"Wait..." said Vic, startled. "Is she one of the German Brandts? The mentalist family?"

"She's from a less-famous American branch," said Folgert, nodding. "Many of the members of that group also have mental powers. Which may explain all those cerebral hemorrhages."

"So how did she end up with Mordecai?" said Barrow, throwing his hands wide in frustration. "I mean, we studied her case at Quantico! It was a classic mystery, never solved. There was no hint that Mordecai was involved!"

"She was, indeed, the subject of a famous missing person case," said Folgert, nodding. "It was thought that her family's fame was the reason she was targeted, much as with the earlier Lindberg baby case and the later Bono daughter case. Catherine and her parents had an act in which they demonstrated various powers. She was known for her ability with distance viewing."

"She was kidnapped and the crime was never solved," said Barrow, frowning as he thought about the situation. "A few weeks later saw the first appearance of Radio Star. Now we have Catherine Brandt's body, as well as what was apparently the original Radio Star - who turns out to be an android - and the body of android-maker Mordecai, all found together."

"Y'know, some amateur radio people claimed they detected faint interference of an unknown type whenever Radio Star was near," said Folgert, remembering a bit of super trivia. "That was chalked up to being just part of her powers."

"One of the things we've uncovered about Mordecai's work here from the lab journals was that he had problems with effective range of control for his androids," said Barrow, still thinking things through. "If they went out of range, his androids weren't sophisticated enough to do more than head back to where they last had contact. Standard radio was only good for a few kilometers, and was very noticeable. Spread spectrum could work for a bit further and was much less noticeable. In spite of all that, beyond a fairly short distance control could be intermittent, especially inside structures."

"Radio Star operated over most of the US, often covering huge distances in a short time," said Tombe, thoughtfully. "There had to be more than ordinary radio at work."

"Telepresence!" said Folgert, in sudden revelation. "Psionic distance viewing, at least!"

"That's..." said Vic. She gave her head a vigorous shake. "Sorry. As someone who was a target of a mastermind who wanted to make use of my abilities - more than once, actually - the implications..."

"Yeah," said Tombe, quietly.

"He kidnapped a young girl just to use her to pilot a drone," said Barrow, obviously stunned. Now he shook his head. "He didn't just pick a random young girl from a rich family for the ransom money, either, but targeted someone specifically because he thought she would be useful to his project. Catherine was a real prodigy, too. Besides having mental powers fairly early she was a master musician and composer, and had already published a full symphony. She was working on another one when she disappeared."

"Not all masterminds are... so focused on their own interests and consider the desires or even rights of others to be irrelevant," said Vic, quietly. "Even those that are can usually be taught better, sometimes with the help of medication. That's the usual state of affairs today. Because they're so smart, though, they can often avoid attempts to help them. Which they see as interference. They really need to be caught early for a good hope of successful treatment. At the time whatever happened in that lab happened, this was just beginning to be learned."

"So what actually happened in that lab, all those years ago?" said Tombe, even more quietly than before.

* * *

Vic spent most of her first two days on the island doing grunt work and getting to know her tent mates. These were agents Tombe and Grimsby. Tombe was about Vic's age - though since Vic looked younger than that Tombe appeared older than her. Grimsby was middle-aged and grey. In hair and manner. Neither seemed to know that Vic had once been male, though both knew she was actually in her mid-twenties.

Tiger was already gone as the second day proceeded. When she inquired, Vic learned that the eccentric super had taken the daily supply boat back to the mainland early the morning of the day after her arrival, though he had helped unload it, first. Vic had also helped with that, but had somehow completely missed that Tiger had then loaded his own meager selection of belongings and boarded the boat. Apparently he felt that with Vic present, he could head back to the Bay Area Guardians. Vic wasn't so sure. She wasn't even certain she counted as a resister, despite her experience with the Balance Blades and a few other instances. However, even before coming here she had been informed that Folgert was a resister. What some people called a leadhead. Hopefully, that and Vic's training would be enough if there was a reappearance of the mysterious man.

At the start of her third day, Vic was back at the dock. She was again working at unloading another Park Service boat's load of supplies when she heard raised voices from near the cabin. At first she thought there might be another moose intrusion underway, but soon...

"Be quiet and keep your ears open," she cautioned the ranger who was in charge of the boat, in a low voice. This was actually the same man who had brought her to the island. He nodded, saying nothing.

Vic cat footed her way quickly up the path until she could see Folgert through the cleared trail. He was standing on the large front porch, arguing with someone on the ground, whom she couldn't see. Behind the FBI man were two of the techs, and they definitely looked out of it.

"I told you," said a voice which was new to Vic, from out of sight in the weeds to her left, the man speaking slowly and firmly, "order your people to pack up and get off this island."

"This is an FBI crime scene," said Folgert, staring at the unseen man. "This entire island. Who owns it is currently irrelevant. Now, who are you and on whose authority are you speaking?"

While the FBI man was talking Vic moved quickly but quietly through the undergrowth towards where the strange voice had come from, using her ears rather than her sense of perception. She literally almost ran into a man in a costume, who was standing near the speaking stranger. Another costumed figure - a woman - was on the far side of of the plainly clothed, slim man.

Though Vic wasn't expecting to encounter anyone but the one man speaking, she was still less surprised than the man in the costume. Who, like the techs, seemed less than all there. She hit him in the solar plexus with a ridgehand, and was very happy when that actually worked. He went down, focused on trying to inhale. Vic sensed movement and looked up to see the woman racing towards her at high speed, only slightly hampered by the heavy growth of weeds. Vic barely had time to spin out of the way, though she did also manage as part of that motion to grab the woman's arm and redirect her towards a young tree. The impact with the trunk momentarily stunned her, and definitely shook the tree, causing a distinct, sharp rustling.

The plainly-dressed man stared at Vic for a moment, then turned and bolted. Vic wanted to grab him, but both her opponents were already showing signs of recovery. Fortunately, Folgert vaulted the still-sturdy wrought iron railing around the porch and gave chase after the fleeing man. Vic instead stayed where she was and used super restraints to bind the woman's hands behind her, then also put a pair around her ankles. The costumed man was flipped over and his hands restrained behind his back. Folgert returned just as Vic finished binding the second costumed supers with the fiber-reinforced, polymer zip-tie. The FBI agent's expression was sour.

"Lost him. He obviously knows the area a lot better than I do. He's also very fast."

"I can't leave these two," said Vic, gesturing at the downed masks. "Unless you want to keep watch on a pair of supers while I try to find that guy?"

"Argh. We better call your Bureau and ask them to send someone out to pick them up. Oh, and to set up an island-wide alarm system," said Folgert, reluctantly. "We should have done that already, but there just wasn't justification for the expense before this."

"Are we sure that there's no currently active bugs anywhere here?" said Vic, looking worried as the thought occurred to her that someone associated with the stranger might be keeping tabs on the FBI operation.

"Yeah," said agent Folgert. "That's part of why we didn't have an alarm, already. We actually had a couple of gadgeteers - one on retainer for the FBI and the other a freelancer - come in and look the place over, besides using our own bug detectors. They didn't find anything."

He grinned.

"Now, whether Mordecai had any bugs too primitive for us to detect is another matter."

"Yeah, you folks were here for a while before he showed this time," said Vic, nodding. "It's more likely that guy is just checking the island for intruders every few days. Oh; on the way to make that call you also need to send someone to the dock to tell the ranger what happened, and have them bring the stuff he brought to our camp."

* * *

As it turned out, the Bay Area Guardians sent a hopper to perform both of the tasks agent Folgert requested assistance for. Tiger, who had just arrived back at the Bay Area Guardians base, was recalled to the scene to help with the work. So he would also be on the hopper.

The hopper was not amphibious, but one of the things Tiger had done during his brief but hyperactive stay on the island was to clear a landing area. It was small, so the hopper had to make a precision vertical descent, but a good pilot could safely land. This one was definitely good.

Vic was nearby with the two still somewhat confused stranger supers. She had made the big guy carry the speedy woman over his shoulders, something neither was happy about. The two of them were starting to slowly come out of whatever control they had been under, and identified themselves as Bull-Rush (the big guy) and Freepa (the speedster). Though a bit dazed, they were able to answer questions. They both said the last thing they remembered was training for an upcoming match for The Super Battle Federation. They didn't understand where they were or how they had come to be there or why they were under arrest. They weren't even certain where they had been while training. Unfortunately, just as they were becoming more talkative, any further replies had to be postponed until after the very noisy landing of the hopper.

"Here, they'll explain it to you," said Vic, straightfaced, as Cumulous and Steel Lace emerged from the vehicle.

"We'll what?" said Steel Lace, startled, as she and Cumulous approached to take charge of the prisoners. Beyond them, Tiger was ushering the techs off the suborbital craft.

This was the first time Vic had met either member of the Bay Area Guardians (Tiger being staff rather than an official team member) but she knew a lot about them and had spoken with them both by phone and in video conferences. She felt familiar enough with the pair to joke with them a bit. Though only a bit.

"They don't know where they are or how they got here," said Vic. "Apparently, they were mind controlled. Like your people were."

"Well, I almost didn't recognize you without the armor," said Steel Lace, smiling. "It's a good thing Tiger warned us."

"Yeah, it's comfortable, but I just can't wear it all the time," said Vic, with a shrug. "Anyway, can you folks take charge of these two? Also, can Tiger go see if he can hunt down the mind controller? He lost the person who went after him and I've been too busy with these two to try and find him."

"We saw a boat moving away from the island as we were landing," said Steel Lace, looking a bit embarrassed. "We didn't take any special notice of it. Anyway, we brought some techs who are going to set up the detectors Folgert requested, and Tiger needs to supervise them."

"That's great. If Cumulous will watch these two, I'll take you, Tiger and the techs over to Agent Folgert."

"I can even help with the setup," said Steel Lace, perhaps a bit smugly. Vic remembered that she had invented the unique powered armor she wore.

They left Cumulous with the captives. While Vic was introducing Steel Lace and the techs to Folgert, Tiger, indeed, tried to find the mind-controller. He returned quickly.

"I can't even follow his scent," muttered Tiger, irritated, to Vic. "I got it, there beside the porch, but after a short distance it vanished. There's no sign of him at all. I don't like that."

After helping Steel Lace and the techs get started on the alarm system, Vic and a couple of the FBI men tried to aid Tiger in again searching for the strange man's trail. However, again they lost his trail, about where Folgert and Tiger alone had. Apparently, the mysterious mind controller was an expert woodsman and good at covering his tracks.

"Did he leave the island?" said Folgert, after their report of failure. "If so, how? Boat? Submarine?"

"Steel Lace said they saw a boat leaving as they were landing," said Vic. "We even went even down to the shore, near where they saw the boat. No sign of any sort of access."

"Well, that's at least one person of interest gone," said Folgert, with a tired sigh.

"I'll go help Cumulous guard the prisoners," said Tiger. "There's a small chance the mind controller might try to get those two back."

"I'll go with you," said Vic

However, by the time they got back to the hopper the techs were finished and ready to leave. With Steel Lace, Cumulous, the prisoners and Tiger the hopper was actually a bit crowded.

"If I don't ride back back with them I'll have to start all over at the airport," Tiger said, with a wry smile. "Have I mentioned that I hate waiting at airports?"

"I know the feeling," said Vic, nodding.

"Well, finding that guy right now is probably not important," said Steel Lace. "The techs and I checked with the sensor net after we got it working, and there's nobody here that's not accounted for. Though we had to eliminate a lot of false signals from animals."

"I guess it's all right then," said Vic, though she still had a nagging thought that they needed to find the guy. She dismissed that as a bit of OCD. She turned to Tiger. "Okay, then, get going. Hopefully, we'll have a better opportunity to talk later."

"I'm actually looking forward to that," said Tiger.

Soon, with Vic back among the trees at a safe distance, the hopper made its noisy departure.

Part Seven

Well into the early days of the Thirties, "masked adventurers" sharing information was a rare thing. Even non-masked supers with an adventurous bent tended to share "secrets" with only a few, select groups of people. However, by the time Europe entered another war many of them had not only discovered kindred spirits who might have useful information, but some had even taken on apprentices. Among the earliest such partnerships, the original Night Master teamed up with the original Dragon's Hand in the mid-Thirties to deal with some Japanese spies they were both after. She quickly proved herself very useful in some ways, but he found himself teaching her the basics of his craft - as he had learned it from Mack Risk and a great deal of experience - in part so she wouldn't interfere with some of his other efforts. He soon made their arrangement formal, even hiring her as an assistant in their civilian identities. She was not only a talented pupil, well justifying his time and effort, but useful in those additional endeavors outside the scope of their original partnership, as well. She also helped the Night Master understand that a large part of the attraction of wearing the mask was not keeping their identity secret - though that was definitely a component - but creating an alternate persona. "You can be whoever and whatever you want to be. Even something more than human."

When Double Dutch and his own mentor, Dr. Freysdottir, asked for help with a matter all four had an interest in, the Night Master was therefore open to a partnership. Together they formed the first recognized superhero team, the Shepherds, actually named by a newspaper reporter who became involved with some of their adventures. Interestingly, while half of the original Shepherds had open IDs, the Night Master and the Dragon's hand kept their true identities secret for several years after that.

The informal but very useful network of information exchange they and those like them created grew with time, as more individuals and more groups began sharing more information. The very existence of this network was kept a secret, that fact shared only between those considered trustworthy and useful. The actual information shared was kept even more secure. In large part this secrecy was due to the efforts of people such as J. Edgar Hoover, who wanted to control the supers, or even rid the world of their problematic existence. The only contribution of some of the super minds who participated was helping organize this information, but that often proved vital. Some masterminds and inventors worked to improve the speed, security and reliability of the communications network, both physical and organizational. Part of this group effort involved the creation - and continual improvement - of electronic means of communication and information sharing.

With the creation of the Bureau of Special Resources early in the Twenty-First Century a new dimension was added to this process. Since the head of the Bureau was a veteran mask, the associated improvement to information quality and quantity for hero groups surprised none of the supers of the world... except for the most paranoid of masterminds on both sides of the law. Who simply didn't believe anyone would freely share anything useful. Still, information is only shared if someone shares it. Once shared, it is only examined if the people receiving it have the time and inclination to do so. With so much information around...

Between the Bureau's efforts on Kravaal Island and their knowledge of the work the FBI was doing there, many supers on many teams were aware of this new aspect which had been grafted to an old puzzle. Some were even able to add useful information of their own to help organize the pieces. However, all offers of volunteer or contractor help in the investigation of the lab were politely turned down. Truthfully, the FBI had plenty of properly trained people on scene and more working in off-site labs to analyze what those on the island recovered. The work in piecing together the puzzle this mystery presented was slow and painstaking, like so much of law enforcement work.

The follow-up of the body farm matter, and what the Assembly and the Bay Area Guardians were uncovering about possible shady dealings by the organization behind the super charity fund raising fights, was attracting much attention and speculation but currently little action. Unfortunately, that progress was too slow for some.

"So," said Cong, sounding determined, "we now have proof of a connection between the illegal activities on that island in the Strait of Georgia and the Super Fighting Federation."

"Super Battle Federation," said Steel Lace, patiently. "Except that while it's obvious there's some connection, there's no proof that the actual charity is involved. Since it does a lot of good work we want to proceed carefully. Neither is there strong evidence the local employment center we've been keeping an eye on has done anything wrong. Except for possibly being sloppy in their paperwork."

"Can we at least do something about that other island, the one with the frozen people?! I mean, it's in the US and we've already sent people there!"

"We already have the two supers who were with the man who was using psionic influence, and they're probably innocent dupes. Government agents - including Vic Peltior of the Bureau of Special Resources - are on the island, working on analyzing what's in the lab. We're still looking for that man. The only illegal activities that we know of on Kravaal Island aside from those acts he committed all occurred decades ago."

"There's no statute of limitation on kidnapping and murder!" shouted Cong.

"The two people we're holding for the FBI were both born well after those events," said Steel Lace, with exaggerated calm. "Likely the man with the mind control was, too. So far we don't actually have anything on Freepa and Bull-Rush; they were obviously mind controlled and are just being held for questioning. The only charges we have against the mind control guy is two incidents of improperly influencing and trying to influence people. Which he will be charged with if we ever find him."

"What more do you need to... do something?!"

"Something solid to base an intervention on!" said Steel Lace, just as loudly and firmly. "This isn't the Thirties! We can't just bull our way in some place, start beating information out of people and damn the consequences. We're not even certain where to intervene. Where are the bouts for The Super Battle Federation events even held? On that island in the Strait of Georgia? Probably, but even if the legal fights are there, where are the illegal ones held? Are there actually crimes being committed? Just what are those crimes?"

"That's not..."

"Look, there's plenty to do here, in this area, around San Francisco. Just two nights ago we broke up that drug distribution ring," said Steel Lace. "You were involved with that. You helped guard the warehouse until law enforcement could arrive and properly catalog and transport all the drugs."

"We can raid that local employment center! During the day! We have people on this team who can tell when someone is telling the truth. We just keep asking until we find someone who knows what's going on and we make them talk!"

"How many innocent people are you willing to go through before you find someone who knows something?" said Steel Lace, angrily. "How many civil rights are you willing to violate? Remember, the primary reason for those is to protect the innocent from the overzealous or corrupt. What if nobody there knows anything significant? Do we just mumble 'Sorry...' and leave?! No! We do not do those things in the first place! If we can't get something done using proper procedure then we don't do it! That's final!"

* * *

Mesa found Cong in the game room, at the pool table. This was not unusual; the younger strongman often found the concentration needed to clear the table in a controlled fashion to be calming. Except for one other young Bay Area Guardian team member playing an old console game, the place was empty.

"You need to learn to pick your battles," said Mesa, after watching Cong sink the colored balls for a bit. "Steel Lace is a stickler for procedure. She also sees challenges of procedure as challenges to her authority."

"Well, if that's the way she runs things someone should challenge her authority!"

"Cong... she's right. The rules are there for a reason. In fact, for several very good reasons. Yeah, there are times to break them, but those are few and far between and if we do break them we are knowingly prepared to face the consequences."

Cong leaned on the table, stick held loosely and forgotten in his left hand, his shoulders slumped, his head down.

"It's just... I can do all this stuff, and I want to do it!"

"I remember a kid I knew in high school," said Mesa, quietly. "He wanted to join the Hell's Angels, 'cause he thought they could do whatever they wanted. Only, they have their own rules, and they're hard on members who don't follow them. He got hurt pretty bad before he left them. I wish that had straightened him out, but it didn't. He eventually got fatally knifed in jail."

"So what are you telling me?" said Cong, hotly, suddenly turning to face the older super. The cue stick snapped in his hand. "Follow your rules or you'll kill me? Well, fuck you!"

"What?!" said Mesa, confused, as the other muscle man threw down the broken stick, turned and stormed out. "No! Cong! That's not...!"

His pleas were ignored.

* * *

"We're getting more and more information indicating that the Super Battle Federation gets most of its money from illegal fights," said Drake, the first day Vic was back at work in Detroit. "These are staged under the cover of being 'training bouts.' They're closed to the public... but open to people who can pay enough."

Vic had been replaced by two supers - a man and a woman - from the Cincinnati office. Polymer Pam and MagneStar were less experienced at federal law enforcement work than Vic but both were competent. Polymer Pam had even been an auxiliary member of the Planetary Guardians for a while, and was a resister. Between the two of them they should be able to easily handle the job Vic had been tasked to do alone.

"I thought the Federation was audited," said Vic, frowning. "They were actually commended for donating nearly all their income to recognized charities."

"All their legal income," said Drake, scowling. He waved some papers from his desk. "One of the things attracting attention is that they have occasionally given a bit more than what their public matches have earned, yet have had no problems meeting their expenses! If these reports are right - and checking that is still in the works - then they use the same facilities to host illegal matches for pure profit."

"So... what do we do about it?"

"The word from our bosses is to investigate, but not to intervene without specific orders," said Drake, all business. "There are international complications involved. Especially if that island in the Strait of Georgia is where the crimes are being committed. Worse, there are a lot of people - many whom are businessmen or diplomats, including some from other countries besides the US and Canada - who attend these matches. Meanwhile, so far at least, we don't even have the names of those who are in charge. Just those they hired to front the charity."

"Another island," muttered Vic, after a moment. "Ever notice how things run in trends?"

"If you ever want to make a statistician uncomfortable," said Drake, sagely, "ask about clustering."

* * *

"They have found more deceased people who shouldn't be there on that body farm," said Steel Lace. "Most of them have turned out to be missing supers, from all over the US and Canada and a few other nations. Who are not only there under false identities, but who are not designated in the facility's records as supers. Which means the data from the studies being done on them may be invalid for use with normal humans."

"You mean that if they're physically super they may not, well, decay the way non-supers would," said Mesa, nodding. "You'd think they'd welcome the opportunity to study a minority subset of the population who wind up the victims of revenge schemes far more often than most groups."

"Now that they know, yes," said Steel Lace, dryly. "The problem - well, apart from the big one of those individuals being placed there illegally - is that the extraneous bodies were being studied as normal humans, which was skewing the results. All that data has to be reevaluated. Most of the victims have no next of kin, so they stay on the farm. Of course, now the employees at the farm have to help the appropriate law enforcement agencies figure out how those bodies got there and who was involved. As well as checking to make sure all the bodies there were acquired legitimately. Which I imagine is going be both gruesome and difficult, if they can't find a cutoff point before which they don't need to check. Bizarrely, some of the identified deceased supers - most likely someone wearing their costumes - have been seen participating in live charity matches after what we now know was the date of their deaths."

"I hope that will finally provide enough evidence for us - or someone - to go after whoever is behind those super disappearances," said Cong, angrily.

"Oh, it will," promised Steel Lace, firmly. "We just have to be patient. Meanwhile, several missing persons cases involving supers have been solved thanks to this information. The fact that most had no known next of kin was probably a factor involved with their disappearance in the first place. However, at least a few families or friends of missing suppers have had closure because of this investigation. Since this illegal placement of bodies has been going on for at least three years, it has also seen a few cold cases reopened."

"We still need to do something about the missing supers!"

"We're working on that," said Steel Lace, flatly. She sighed, and looked thoughtful. "I'm wondering if these cases of missing supers are connected to the 'You're Arrested' murders. Those have tapered off hugely, but there's a legitimate concern they're only part of something larger, and may restart."

"That's something else we should have done something about," said Cong, voice low and ominous. "We can't just sit around and wait for these things to go away on their own!"

"We aren't," said Steel Lace. "Now, if there's nothing else, this meeting is over."

* * *

Unfortunately, while the meeting was over the matter was not settled.

A short time later Tiger and Steel Lace were in the Bay Area Guardians' administrator's office, discussing a budget matter. Just as the phone rang, Cong came storming in. Outside, the receptionist was holding her phone handset to her ear, waving desperately at Steel Lace through the briefly opened doorway, looking flustered.

"There's a proper way to..."

"I need to talk with you," said Cong.

"I'm in a meeting."

"Oh, my stuff can wait," said the socially uncaring Tiger, affably.

Steel Lace glared at him, but only briefly, because Cong immediately launched a rant about her inactivity.

"People are dying!" shouted Cong, as he finished.

"People are dying all over the world," said Tiger, with a shrug, before Steel Lace could speak. "Including in and around the Bay Area. Are our abilities better applied helping people here, or by going out to that unclaimed island? If we're going to act illegally - to deliberately break the law - would our efforts be better spent stopping an illegal fight racket or instead toppling a regime in South America which is aiding in the destruction of the Amazon?"

"You aren't helping," said Steel Lace, wryly, to Tiger. She turned back to Cong. "While it's not as straightforward as Tiger is putting it he does have a point. Besides, we're already working on stopping the local 'recruitment office' and there are others working on other aspects of the situation. However, we aren't the most appropriate group to handle problems like those. Except for the occasional disappearance of a super - and sometimes even for those - those are actually things more suited to the local police. I think our best bet - for now - in regard to this matter is to share information with them and other super teams and the Bureau of Special Resources and maybe brainstorm solutions. All of which we are already doing."

"Look, this doesn't mean I approve of what the bad guys behind those super fights are doing," said Tiger, reasonably. "You need to remember that we have to be careful to follow the laws. Sometimes that can hamper us in the short term, but in the long term doing that helps us to help others! We have to balance those factors."

"I'll show you balance!" snapped Cong.

He stormed out of the office.

"I hope he's not going to do anything rash," said Steel Lace, obviously concerned.

"I'd bet on it," said Tiger, with a sigh. "We better keep an eye on him."

Part Eight

As it turned out, they were too late. Even as they were trying to arrange for a watch on Cong, an alert came in from the base hangar that the strongman had taken a hopper with no explanation. He launched at full throttle, too, bringing noise complaints from several fronts.

"We better get after him," said Mesa, with a tired sigh, when Steel Lace used their personal coms to tell him about this.

"He didn't file a flight plan, but I don't think there's any doubt where he's going."

"Well, we have other hoppers."

Steel Lace selected herself, Mesa, Andrea, Lungfish, Cumulous and Tiger (semi-blaming him for Cong going AWOL) to go on the trip. That was about all the hopper she selected could comfortably carry.

They made a less noisy takeoff, using the fanjets on high-bypass mode and moderate throttle. Once high and fast enough they switched to the rockets for the suborbital hop. With the later and more conservative start they were behind Cong, but not by a huge amount. The distance was not all that far or nor the time long for a hopper trip.

As they traveled, however, Steel Lace began making calls. One of those was to Brade at the Bureau of Special Resources. Each call was terse, as there was not a huge amount of time available. Several of those called promised help, but it would be a while arriving.

* * *

Vic was rather surprised when Drake hurried into the combined office of her and the other two employees. The usual procedure was for him to call her to his.

"We have an emergency," he said, a bit unnecessarily. He gave a digest version of the problem with Cong. "Brade says she's calling Tricorne. If they agree to help, they'll stop here to give you a lift to the island. Note that the official reason for sending anyone there is to stop Cong from creating an international incident. However, if, in the process, you find anything suspicious..."

"I get it," said Vic, nodding. "I better get my armor on, then."

She grabbed the case from the shelf behind her desk and hurried to the women's restroom.

* * *

"I am very glad you folks could give me a lift," said Vic, in her armor, as Tricorne's large apergy pod climbed past the von Kármán Line. "I'm also glad to have people I know along for this. There could be dozens of potentially hostile supers on that island, plus who knows how many security guards."

"I'm just glad some folks from the Bay Area Guardians will get there before us," said Energia. "Having to face that many supers - even if most are supposed to be low level - is not going to be fun."

"There's a lot more heading there besides us and some of the Bay Area Guardians," said Blue Impact. "Like the Planetary Guardians, some may beat us there. I just wish we were all going to come in at once. It would be more intimidating that way. Intimidation could be important in this matter."

* * *

Steel Lace and those with her watched their destination grow rapidly larger through the front windscreen. Reentry over, they had a clear view, in part because any dirt or smudges on the outside of the transparent ceramic had been burned off.

"I'm getting the airport beacon, but no response to calls," said Andrea, who was in the copilot's seat.

"They're probably busy," said Steel Lace, with a sigh. "So, it's see and be seen."

The Super Battle Federation facility actually occupied one medium-sized island and several smaller ones. Multiple structures could be seen on the largest island of the group. There even appeared to be a network of roads. Several of the smaller islands also had one or more structures, with trails, some of which might have been paved. One island even had what appeared to be a small, though dormant, volcano. Many of the buildings were obviously new construction, but some were older. A few appeared to be much older.

"I can already see the hopper Cong stole," said Andrea, as they dove for the facility's airport. "There's still no response from the local air traffic control."

"Okay, Cumulous, get ready," said Steel Lace.

"Roger," he replied, unbuckling his harness.

He moved deftly to the small airlock and shut the inner door, then began equalizing pressure. This wasn't his first such bailout; he got the pressure to ambient just as they passed two thousand meters, as planned. He shut the valves and cracked the outer door. Steel Lace, seeing this on her instruments, momentarily pulled up to bring their airspeed close to zero. Cumulous exited, made sure the outer door was closed and latched, then flew up and away from the hopper. Steel Lace dropped the nose and resumed the descent.

"There!" shouted Andrea, just before they would have flared for a conventional wheeled touchdown. "I see Cong! He's down, and there are supers and guards all around him!"

"Then we forget a roll-out landing!" yelled Steel Lace.

She pulled the nose of the hopper up, used the fanjets in VTOL mode to completely kill their forward speed and dropped straight down. At the last moment she did a brief, full-throttle burn of the belly rockets and stuck a hard but bounceless landing.

"Everybody out!" she yelled, taking just enough time to flip enough switches to make the hopper safe.

Because of this she missed the next part of the excitement.

* * *

The sudden change to a vertical drop by the hopper threw off Cumulous' personal descent schedule. Because of that, the flying super was still in the air with a good view of the landing area when he saw not only the precipitous touchdown, but also what happened next. He watched the hopper stop - tarmac half-molten and smoking under it - and the first of the occupants exit. He saw them convulse after traveling only a short distance and drop as if being attacked by something unseen. He also saw a three-man team on the catwalk of the control tower manipulating an odd device with a mesh, dish antenna. Said dish being pointed at the hopper.

Mesa, Lungfish and Andrea piled out of the hopper even before the turbofan engines shut down. The trio hit the pavement and began running towards the group around Cong. They didn't get far. The two male humans showed signs of distress, both of them staggering and collapsing. Mesa managed to rise back to his knees before vomiting and dropping again, this time staying down. Andrea, the fastest and in the lead, simply quit running and dropped, rolling to a messy stop.

Tiger popped out next, with Steel Lace right behind him. Tiger immediately staggered, and veered to one side. Steel Lace appeared unaffected, and hurried past him to check on the closest of her fallen comrades, Mesa.

The men at the control tower who were pointing the device at the arriving supers were startled when a strong gust of wind shoved them down. They were very startled when a man in a colorful costume landed beside the device and heaved it over the balcony railing. The were even more startled when he then began subduing them with great vigor and enthusiasm.

"What... hit me?" said Mesa, as Steel Lace knelt beside him.

"What did you feel?"

Mesa still felt horrible, but his EMT training kicked in.

"Severe headache, nausea, blurred vision, ringing in the ears and loss of balance," he said, succinctly.

"According to my sensors, we got hit by a pulsed, directed microwave beam," said Steel Lace. She looked up as Tiger - already mostly recovered - moved past them to check on Lungfish. "It came from the direction of the airfield control tower. Cumulous destroyed the device generating the effect. My armor protected me, Tiger was hardly affected, and you and Lungfish are already coming around. I'm worried about Andrea, though."

"We have a more immediate worry," said Tiger, leaving the already reviving Lungfish, and moving past Andrea towards the guards and supers headed their way.

With Mesa now capable of sitting up and Lungfish actually standing, Steel Lace moved quickly to Andrea and plugged a shielded communication cable from her armor into the port behind the android's left ear.

"She should be alright in a bit," said Steel Lace, after a moment. She looked at Mesa as she unplugged. "You watch her while she's rebooting. Call me if she takes more than another few seconds. I'm going to help Tiger."

Steel Lace was not normally a brawler, preferring to stand back and use ranged weapons. However, with Tiger already intimately involved with the hostiles her options were limited. She fired a few bursts from her stun guns, laid down an arc of smoke just beyond those already caught up in the melee to hamper reinforcements, then charged in.

Tiger was "only" staff at the Bay Area Guardians, but long before he took the position of chief engineer with them he was an experienced combatant. Moreover, his fighting style was so flexible that he'd had opponents complain that he kept changing how he fought. A few had even accused him of having multiple personalities. Still, having Steel Lace move smoothly in behind him so they could protect each others' backs was a definite help.

Meanwhile, Cumulous finished restraining the men he had engaged and entered the control tower. Inside he glared through his goggles at the personnel running the equipment.

"Why did you attack us?" he demanded.

The three men on duty in the control center looked briefly at each other, then as one bolted for the stairs. Cumulous tried to cut them off, but they all made it through. He decided not to chase after them, but instead barred the door with a chair. That done, he sat at one of the consoles and began monitoring the radar and radio. There was a surprising amount of air traffic approaching the island group. Hopefully, at least some of that was help.

* * *

"Hey, that's Cumulous!" said Blue Impact, after her third attempt to contact the control tower was finally successful. "He says some of the Bay Area Guardians are already there, that they were attacked on landing with some sort of mad science gadget, and we should consider everyone on the island hostile. Oh, and to land at the airport, near the two hoppers! The team is already in the process of securing that area, but could definitely use some help."

"Well, that's one concern out of they way," said Vic, sourly, "and a whole bunch more now active!"

She accessed the brilliant phone function in her armor's helmet and notified her boss. After a few moments Vic sighed and ended the connection.

"He says he'll notify Brade. For the rest, we should use our judgement."

"I've already done that," said Energia, putting down the earphone and microphone set she had donned while Vic was making her call. "Contacted Brade, I mean. Word is already spreading that it's become a super-involved event. She says that our primary mission is still to keep Cong from causing an international incident, but that beyond that we should use out own judgement. So I guess it's confirmed."

"From what Cumulous is saying, there's already a full-blown super battle going on, and they started it," said Blue Impact, firmly. "So, we go in hot and ready. If they want a fight, we need to be generous and give them more than they want."

There was unanimous support of that plan among those in the pod.

* * *

By this time Mesa and Lungfish were mostly recovered and Andrea was fully operational. They moved in and quickly helped Steel Lace and Tiger finish subduing the costumed supers and security personnel whom they had engaged.

"Ow," said Tiger, mildly. "Those stun batons hurt! On the other hand, I didn't even need to use my claws."

"This was much easier than it should have been," said Andrea. "The security guards were as much trouble as the costumed supers!"

"You better believe it, sister!" one of the guards shouted, from where he was hogtied face down on the tarmac. "There's more on the way, too! You're not getting away with this!"

She didn't bother asking what he thought they were getting away with. She'd learned long before that arguing with people who had such attitudes was pointless.

"The supers were all low level, and probably mind controlled," said Tiger, as he put the high-strength polymer, fiber-reinforced restraints on another of the defeated costumed figures. "Their hearts weren't really in the fight, either. Or maybe their brains."

"Why hasn't Cong revived, yet?" said Steel Lace, turning to Mesa. "Nothing they used on us should have had that long an effect on him!"

"I'm checking," said Mesa, obviously concerned. "Okay, from the pressurized injector syringe with the armor-piercing needle on the ground beside him, it looks like they dosed him with something while he was out from that beam. It's not labelled, either, so I don't know what they gave him, but he seems stable."

Further discussion of Cong's state was interrupted as Tricorne's apergy pod plopped expertly down between the two hoppers. Energia, who had bailed out at altitude much as Cumulous had before her, hovered over the far side of the Bay Area Guardians from the pod, keeping watch for more hostiles.

"Welcome to the party!" Mesa called out as three of the new quartet hurried over to join them.

"I'm glad to see that you're in your armor this time," said Steel Lace, to Vic. "You will probably need it, unfortunately."

"What's the brief?" Blue Impact asked Steel Lace.

The leader of the Bay Area Guardians had just begun to relate the events since their arrival, when they were informed by Cumulous of another hopper about to land. An Assembly vehicle arrived soon after that notification.

Their hopper also made an expert, vertical landing. Moments later, five people in familiar costumes exited and joined the throng. The largest members of the Bay Area Guardians and the Assembly greeted each other warmly.

"Hey, Hiram!" said Maciste, arms spread wide.

"Hello, Milo!" said Mesa, likewise postured.

The two entered a brief embrace which would have flattened a small car if one had been caught between them.

"You two know each other?" said Steel Lace, as they parted.

"You didn't know we're cousins?" said Mesa, as Maciste smirked. Mesa's expression quickly soured. "Unfortunately, so is Cong."

"I knew he was related to you." Steel Lace frowned as she walked around the pair of strongmen. "Well, there is the obvious resemblance, that being your size, muscularity and powers. Otherwise... you're different colorings, have differently shaped faces..."

"Cong looks different from either of us," said Mesa, with a careless shrug. "Anyway, right now we need to focus on business."

He turned to his cousin.

"So, we have nearly half of the active Bay Area Guardians field team with us plus Tiger, and Tricorne and Vic Peltior, with some of the Planetary Guardians on the way. Who do you have?"

"The entire Assembly field team, with Dr. Gorgeous left at headquarters to coordinate," said Maciste. "I think everyone here who is on the side of the angels knows all the others on that side. By sight, if not from meeting them."

"So who is in charge?" said Steel Lace. "We don't need another Chicago incident. Right now we're too vulnerable to an area attack, so the sooner we start dispersing the better."

"You're the first team leader on scene, so it's you," said Champion, flatly, with Blue Impact nodding in emphatic agreement. "We'll set our earbuds to your frequency. Which I guess we better spread the word about."

"Please do. Or, rather, I'll have Cumulous spread the word, and continue doing it for new arrivals. Meanwhile, I'll try and figure out what we're all going to do while we're here."

"I just hope everyone brought plenty of super-rated restraints," said Vic. "Oh, and I don't have time to deputize all those who might need it, so if someone needs arresting call me."

Part Nine

Good troops just need to be given a goal. Thanks to the preparatory work by Steel Lace and her people those masks responding to her call for help already had an idea of the organization and layout on the island. She assigned one team, made up of all the members from the Assembly who were present, to locate and escort to the airport all the civilian guests of the island administration, regardless of whether they were here for the legal bouts or the illegal ones, and regardless of whether they wanted to be rescued. Another team - made up of Blue Impact, Gadgetive and Vic - was to head for the offices and try to arrest any management types they could find. A third group, which was most of the Bay Area Guardians on site, were to find the barracks of the combatants and tell everyone there to stand down and not interfere with the operation. Then make that stick.

Everyone the teams found at their assigned targets except the supers in the barracks were to be brought to the airport hangar, and kept from leaving. Mesa and Maciste were to clear the hangar, then move Cong and those already captured into that structure and secure it. They were then to remain there on guard, of the prisoners, the vehicles and the control tower. Meanwhile, certified paramedic Mesa was to see what he could do for Cong and any other injured. With those two titans in place - especially if they could rouse Cong to add a third - and so many island supers and security personnel already defeated, the intimidation factor should be quite high. Cumulous was told to stay in the airport control tower. He was to have subsequent arrivals split into teams of two or three and go on scouting missions. Energia, as the only flyer on any of the teams so far except for the otherwise occupied Cumulous, was put on high cover lookout. She was to watch for and hopefully intercept anyone trying to escape by air, whether under their own power or in a vehicle. She would also warn those on the ground of any defending forces approaching any of the teams.

The large group of supers immediately divided and dispersed as directed. Not mentioned was that all of them except Tiger and Sharma had active anti-neutralizer devices. They, as supernaturals, didn't need those. Likewise, everyone except Tiger and a few others had something to help them resist mind control.

* * *

Blue Impact, Gadgetive and Vic took a direct route from the airport to the offices of the Super Battle Federation. Making this easy, the island possessed a proper network of paved roads, though all the vehicles they saw were various types of electrics. There were also large, plainly written signs in English giving directions, including to the administration building. The trio kept seeing people - some in costume - in the distance. Those gave the hurrying trio brief, mildly curious looks, but otherwise kept on as they were.

"Looks like word hasn't spread, yet," said Gadgetive.

"Don't count on that being true in the administrative building," said Blue Impact. "Somebody sent those people after Cong."

However, as they neared the target building a costumed man hailed them and hurried into formation with the trio.

"Hey! I'm on your side! I'm currently going by Bombardier and wearing a different costume, but am usually called Satchel!"

"Yeah, I recognize you," said Vic, not mentioning that this was due to her sense perception making his mask irrelevant. Things like that tended to make masked supers very nervous.

"Yeah, I thought you were one of Wol... I mean, Trujillo's students. Great! So, you guys need any help?"

Blue Impact and Gadgetive, getting the high sign from Vic, moved on as she and "Bombardier" stopped.

"Look, I appreciate the offer, and the willingness to help, and am aware of your history as a mask, but..." Vic waved her hands. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm investigating," he said, smugly. "Figured I'd come back in disguise and learn more about what was going on. Then either wreck their plans myself, or call in the cavalry."

Vic did not say "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Instead, she told "Bombardier" to head to the airport.

"I'll let them know you're coming. Right now there's only two people guarding a lot of prisoners. I'm sure they'd appreciate the help."

"Gotcha'a!" said "Bombardier," grinning. He hurried off. Fortunately, in the correct direction.

After he left, Vic told Cumulous, Mesa and Maciste that he was coming, with a description, and that he was a friendly, there to help. Then she hurried to catch up to Blue Impact and Gadgetive.

As it turned out, she was just in time.

At the front entrance to the administration building - which like many of the structures here was clearly, even proudly labeled - Blue Impact and Gadgetive were beset by half a dozen guards.

Like those at the airport, these men were armed with several weapons, including stun batons, and wearing body armor, which included heavy gloves and helmets with face shields. Two of them were already down, but three of the remaining four were after Blue Impact. Though they were unempowered humans they were armed, protected and very well trained.

Gadgetive was far from helpless in a fight, but this sort of melee was not her strong suit. However, her own body armor was for the moment keeping her from harm. On the other hand, Vic could tell that two of the men on Blue Impact were trying to hit her neutralizer counter unit with their batons. This told Vic that they knew what it was, and that they had neutralizers at the ready. She broke into a run, and covered the last of the distance to one of those two men in a leap.

People were often surprised at how well Vic could jump in her armor. It was light, provided little hinderance to her movement, and she was strong and fast. The man's expression just before Vic's flying side kick connected with his face shield was priceless.

Vic and Blue Impact made quick work of the other two men fighting the leader of Tricorne. Seeing this, the man on Gadgetive broke and ran. Only to find Vic cutting him off.

"Vic Peltior, Bureau of Special Resources," she announced, holding up her badge. "You're under arrest for unprovoked assault, illegal imprisonment and other charges to be named later. Now, where are your bosses?"

"You're not a cop! They warned us about you!"

"I am a federal law enforcement officer with arrest powers. Where. Are. Your. Bosses?"

He refused to cooperate, continuing to deny that Vic was a law enforcement officer. Not that she didn't have jurisdiction on this disputed island, but stating flatly that she had no arrest powers anywhere, because she was only a pretend cop.

"Great," muttered Vic, who was tired of being labelled what one of her co-workers jokingly called a pseudo-fed. "Okay, Gadgetive, kill his radio and let's disarm him and fasten him so something secure until someone can pick him up."

That was quickly done, and they finally were able to reach the doors. Which were locked. They could see more people - including more-conventional security guards - watching them from inside.

"Wow," said Blue Impact, after unsuccessfully trying to force one of the deceptively normal-looking doors. "These are stout. Gadge?"

"I could burn through them," said their gadgeteer, as she set to work, "or use a shaped charge. However, the easiest thing is to short the control system for the lock. It should be designed to fail safe, which means it will then unlock."

There was a loud, bright spark from the device she was holding to the frame. Then came a comparatively muffled but still distinct click. Gadgetive smirked as she pulled the door open. Beyond, the additional security guards - these not armored and carrying only sidearms - and a panicked-looking receptionist awaited them.

"The cops are on the way!" said the woman, in what was almost a shriek.

Vic again presented her badge.

"I am a cop. A US federal law enforcement officer. You are all culpable for the offenses we have already seen here. If you don't want to be arrested, stand down."

"She's not a cop!" screamed the woman. "Just look at her! She can't be a cop! Kill her!"

Gadgetive popped a grenade which foamed the feet and legs of her and about half the guards, gluing them securely to the floor. Blue Impact and Vic quickly dealt with the rest.

"Elevators are out," said Gadgetive after examining the control panel for the devices. "Locked out, I mean. Looks like we'll have to take the stairs."

"That's probably safer, anyway," said Blue Impact. "This building isn't all that tall. Won't even be much of a workout."

* * *

The team at the barracks was having a much easier time. The doors had been secured from the outside. Once the handful of guards were taken care of - two of them actually ran before the fight started - and the doors opened the team from the Assembly saw that beyond was one large room full of cots. Most were occupied. There was also a fitness section, where several people were working out. All those inside seemed... listless. As if even the physically active ones doing their training were just going through the motions.

"You are ordered to stand down!" said Champion in a loud, clear voice. "There is a law enforcement raid underway on the offices of this facility. Do not interfere!"

Most of those present looked over at her, then back to what they were doing. Or not doing. Only a few took more notice, and they just appeared confused.

"Yeah, these guys have definitely been in zombie mode for quite a while," said Thunderer, with distaste. "I bet they're kept under like this to reduce the chance of causing trouble, and only brought out of it when they're supposed to fight. What's the mechanism, though? Drugs?"

"That doesn't mean there aren't some supers with security who are fully alert," said Champion. "Remember those at the airport?"

"Tiger said the supers there were a bit out of it, as well. I don't recall him saying anything about the guards."

"I believe I could rouse them, with a spell," said Sharma, helpfully.

"Not a good idea, at least not right now," said Champion, after a moment of thought. "Let's take a quick look around, then resecure the doors and get those guards to the airport. I'll bet those main doors are the only way in or out, too."

* * *

"Hey, Vic, Blue Impact and Gadgetive," said Mesa, over their coms. "We've been talking to that guy you sent here. Bombardier. He's a gold mine of information about this place. Unfortunately, most of the news he has is bad. They have a bunch of super mercenaries - about three times as many as were at the airport, and they're all alert and competent - and one of their priorities is guarding the brass here."

"Roger," said Blue Impact. "We're climbing the stairs, almost to the top floor of the admin building. So far, no supers. Just guards and secretaries."

"What?! No! The admin building was evacuated except for some guards and the receptionist. The top brass aren't there, anyway! They're on a different island. That place is just for administration. If Bombardier is right, they've set a trap. Not necessarily for you, but anybody who gets to the top of the admin building. Whole place is rigged to blow."

"That should have been the first thing you told us!" said Blue Impact, startled.

Vic was about to put her hand on the handle of the door at the top of the stairs. She stopped, and looked at the others.

"Well, Vic?" said Blue Impact. "Just how reliable is this guy?"

"He's trustworthy," she replied. "Reliable is... iffy."

"Move back and let me do a scan," said Gadgetive.

"Oh," said Mesa, resuming when he heard this. "He also says the trap will trigger if there's any sort of electromagnetic disturbance. Says he seduced a female tech who was one of those who did the work and she was very proud of what they did. She bragged about all the elaborations."

"Shit," said Gadgetive. She looked at her team leader. "What do we do?"

"I am sensing... something attached to the handle on the other side," said Vic, worried. "Can't tell for sure what it is, but it doesn't seem to be a normal part of a door."

"There's an easy way to test this."

Part Ten

Setting things up to test the trap took more time than any of them were comfortable with, but given the risks that had to be done right. While Gadgetive worked, Blue Impact and Vic moved all the personnel they had captured to the airport, using "liberated" electric vehicles. They even helped with the people the Bay Area Guardians contingent discovered in the VIP quarters. Those individuals - mostly wealthy men, some with younger female "escorts" - were being entertained in fine style and didn't want to leave. They didn't seem to understand that they were being held pending arrest and some had to be literally picked up and carried. (More than once Tiger was heard to mutter "The entitlement is strong in this one.") Once in the hangar the prisoners were hopefully out of danger, as well as out of the way and out of sight. Meanwhile Gadgetive worked with a technology which was far different from what she was used to, though the material involved was familiar to her. Finally, she came backing carefully out the front door of the administration building, unwinding a thread behind her.

She made her way diagonally across the street, moving slowly, until she rounded the corner to where the two who had entered the administration building with her waited. The rest of the "angels" as Maciste had put it were at the airport with the recently arrived Planetary Guardians contingent, keeping watch on the plethora of prisoners.

"That's it. The other end is tied to the door handle. The line is then carefully threaded over the handrail, down the stairwell, under the handrail, out the ground floor stairway door then across to here. All the surfaces it passes over are hardened steel and low friction. Just give it a tug."

"You sure that's strong enough?" said Vic, eying the thin thread as Gadgetive carefully handed the spool to Blue Impact.

"It's braided buckytubes," said the gadgeteer, glaring at her. She turned to her team leader. "Be sure to only pull on the spool. This stuff would cut even you."

"Okay," said Blue Impact. She took up the slack. "In three, two, one, go."

The magnitude of the resulting explosion took all the heroes by surprise, and not just those at the admin building. As the dust began to clear, the trio closest to the blast could see that most of the building was gone. As were large parts of the upper portions of all the surrounding buildings.

"Holy shit," squeaked Gadgetive.

"You folks still with us?" said Steel Lace, over their coms.

"Uh, yeah," said Blue Impact, shaking her head. "Thank Bombardier for the warning. Now, does anyone see any reaction?"

"Not yet. However, Energia says the building where the VIPs were housed also went up."

"Whoah," said Mesa, startled. "Someone must have wanted any attackers blamed for all those deaths. I'm surprised the fighters' barracks didn't go up, too."

"They could be blamed for the destruction," said Steel Lace, dryly. "Why get rid of them?"

Bombardier hadn't known which other island the top bosses were on. He did know that aside from the cameras in the cage match area, the only security cameras were inside the barracks and the VIP quarters. Presumably the last was more for blackmail use than maintaining security. The hope was that there would be some response from the facility's masters after the explosions supposedly took out at least some of any attacking force.

"Oh, yeah," said Energia, still on high cover. "Several helicopters being accompanied by a few flying types are on the way from the island southwest of here. The one with the little volcano."

"Good. You stay out of this fight. Fly high over that island and keep watch."

"Roger."

She sounded disappointed, but knew her role was important.

"Okay, time for everybody to play dead until the bad guys get here. Then we ambush them."

* * *

The arriving helicopters and flying supers headed for the airport. Did they know that was where the VIP prisoners and the captured supers and security guards were? Or were they headed there simply because it was the best place for their force to land?

The flying supers landed first, and looked around. The heroes held back, keeping quiet and still. Seeing nothing immediately threatening, the newly arrived supers called the helicopters down.

Bombardier jumped the gun, though fortunately not by much. He charged out of the hangar screaming what might have been his idea of a Rebel yell. He leapt for one of the just-landed helicopters. Given that its blades were still turning at a good clip it was probably fortunate for him that one of the mercenary flyers intercepted him, swatting Bombardier to the ground. However, by that time multiple hero masks were swarming out of the hangar.

The subsequent battle was a confused mess. Later, even with testimony from many parties - including Cumulous, who was still in the tower, watching it all from above - a detailed recreation was impossible. It lasted long enough that Blue Impact, Gadgetive and Vic were not only able to arrive before it ended, but all three were able to make contributions to the conflict. Fortunately, though the battle was hard fought, the "angels" won.

A few of the mercenary supers managed to flee. Most were caught later, during the clean-up of the island, and the rest had warrants put out on them. All five of the helicopters were damaged beyond repair.

"Whew!" said Mesa, as they began the task of putting restraints on the defeated supers. "That was some fight."

He was, very unusually for someone as tough as him, bleeding from his nose and mouth. His outfit was also in serious need of repair. He was far from the only one on either side experiencing those conditions.

Vic was about to say something, but they were all half-deafened by Cumulous yelling over their coms.

"Monsters! Monsters from the east!"

That cry was unexpected enough and vague enough that some of those on the ground were left confused instead of being warned. However, several of the heroes - especially those on the east side of the battlefield - saw what was coming.

"Badgerbears!"

"Oh, yeah," said Bombardier, coming around but still a bit groggy. "Some of the illegal cage fights are against monsters. Even whole packs of badgerbears."

"Badgerbears run in packs?!" said Gadgetive, who wasn't the only one alarmed to hear this.

"Unfortunately," said Tiger. "It's just that most people can't afford - or survive - more than one."

As large as brown bears and with physical and behavioral characteristics of both those and badgers, the massive creatures had long been a bane to many people, including supers.

"Ahhhh!" said one of the captured super mercenaries. He began struggling against his bonds. "Get me out of here! Those things are dangerous!"

"No kidding," muttered Vic.

"Heavyweights to the east!" Steel Lace called out. "Hurry! Those with ranged attacks get behind them and start firing! Cumulous, keep watch in other directions!"

There wasn't enough time. The line of heavies was still forming and only a few ranged shots were made before the nearly two dozen badgerbears were on them. The fight quickly became another messy melee. While the arcing line of defenders - which included Blue Impact - intercepted most of the animals, a few got through. These were left to people like America's Guardsman and Andrea. More injuries occurred to the heroes, as well as a couple of the most recent set of prisoners, but for the most part the creatures were dispatched quickly.

Even while this was happening, Steel Lace was directing others to defend the rest of the perimeter, all around the the landing area and the nearby hangar. Fortunately, by now they had plenty of heroes for the task. Cumulous called out a few more hostile creatures approaching, mostly individual mad biology creations, and they were intercepted before reaching the airport. None of these were natural animals, inclined to avoid obviously superior opponents even if they were potential food. These were all creatures designed for aggression without regard to their own safety. In a way this was fortunate; they were all sent by the unseen masters of this island against the heroes, and they were all destroyed in short order. Which meant there was little worry of surviving creatures wandering around the island, menacing staff or lone heroes.

"Was that a sharoction I saw Tiger and Mesa fighting?" said Blue Impact, once the monster part of the battle was over and they were again in cleanup mode. "These people are crazy!"

The group had just finished packing the defeated and captured airborne attackers - super and agent - into the hangar when Cumulous sent word of more arrivals. These, it turned out, were helicopters from the US and Canadian Coast Guards, on a joint mission. Fortunately, in support of the heroes.

"Get the landing area cleared!" Steel Lace ordered, quickly. "Shove the debris and animal bodies well clear! I don't care if something is still burning, move it out of the way!"

Several clearly marked helicopters soon approached. There was some worry expressed about hidden antiaircraft defenses which might be deployed against these craft, which were much more conventional than those the masks had used and therefore more vulnerable to such measures. However, they landed without incident. The troops on board quickly fanned out, and high-ranking officers - one each Canadian and US - debarked. They asked for and were quickly directed to the person in charge. Steel Lace met them at the landing area, with America's Guardsman and several other respected heroes in support.

"Ma'am," said Rear-admiral LaSalle, the ranking officer of the combined task force and a French Canadian, after a quick salute. "What can you tell us about what happened here?"

"One of the members of the Bay Area Guardians stole a hopper and came here for his own reasons," said Steel Lace. "I formed a small team and took another hopper to stop him. I didn't want an international incident. However, as we approached the island we could not get any acknowledgement from the control tower. As we drew closer we saw that the rogue team member was on the ground, surrounded by obvious hostiles. With no contact, we landed and exited our vehicle and were immediately attacked. One of our team destroyed a mad science device used to attack us - that's it, on the ground over there, at the base of the control tower - and as we recovered we saw the hostiles advancing on us. We were engaged by them, and things escalated from there.

"I want to emphasize that we - the team as a whole - were waiting for a go-ahead from the US and Canadian governments when all this started. Our intent in coming here was to stop a rogue member. However, the locals were hostile and attacked without determining our intent or regard for our intent. We were forced to defend ourselves."

"Understood," said the Vice-admiral, nodding. "Ironically, our joint task force was already on its way here. The justification being that the island's waste treatment plant is producing effluent well below the standards required by both the United States and Canada and releasing it into the ocean."

That he realized this was simply a justification for the "investigation in force" the two governments had planned was obvious.

"I see you have, well, many prisoners," said Rear Admiral Lower Half Harney, senior officer present from the US Coast Guard. "Did you capture those in charge here?"

"No. Our information is that they're on another island," said Steel Lace, pointing. "However, even in the short time we've been here we have found strong evidence of multiple illegal activities."

"We are prepared to take the prisoners off your hands," said LaSalle. "Some of our ships are already approaching the docks for this island. There are both portable neutralizers on board, and brigs with neutralizers installed. If you could show us the prisoners?"

"They're in the hangar," said Steel Lace.

The captured people had been separated into four groups. These were the costumed mercenaries, the uniformed guards, the civilian workers, and the VIP guests. The latter group had raised the biggest fuss; still were, in fact. They saw the combined Coast Guard forces and thought those personnel were there to rescue them from this assault by American supers. Ignoring them for the moment, Steel Lace went to the closest group first; the costumed mercenaries.

"Let's see..." said Steel Lace. "I recognize Daisy Eta... Kart Bizak... Titania... Altan... Wait, isn't Altan supposed to be dead?!"

"That's an android," said Tiger. He looked around. "I think several of these are androids."

"I can verify that," said Andrea.

"Androids?!" said Steel Lace. "Hold on."

"That complicates things," said LaSalle, as the super thought. "Any artificial life forms will need to be verified as sapient, before they can be held responsible for their actions. If not, they can simply be deactivated for later examination."

"I can help with that," said Andrea, definitely smugly. Whether the members of the combined military task force would take her seriously - since she was still in her "cheerleader" phase - was another matter.

"All right, quick check!" said Steel Lace, loudly. "How many of these are androids?"

The answer was: All those previously thought to be dead, plus a few more. That is, about a third of the costumed defenders of the island. Which was apparently a surprise to both the other costumed defenders and the uniformed security guards.

"I'm surprised some of the VIP guests weren't duplicated," said Tiger, scowling. "That's something we need to check on for former guests, if we ever get the records of who they were."

"We thought the imposters were just other supers with similar powers," said Steel Lace. She shook her head. "We have a lot of rethinking..."

She froze. Then turned to look at Tiger.

"That island you went to, with the basement lab. It was the first Mordecai's."

"Yeah," said Tiger, nodding slowly. "We know at least someone is still paying attention to that place, too. It could very well be the current Mordecai. Though a lot of other people are into androids these days. There's also the mind control guy who appeared there, and the signs we've seen here of mind control. It fits..."

"We should have guessed!" said Steel Lace, suddenly angry. "We should have known that the costumed substitutes for the dead supers we learned about were androids!"

"We didn't know there was a connection between the two islands," said Mesa, with a scowl. "That's still not certain. It's hundreds of kilometers away! I'm willing to bet, though, now that we know about this, that the mind-controlling man on the island in Silver Lake is an android."

"No," said Tiger, flatly. "That was a human. He had a definite human scent, and that's one of the things even Andrea can't fake."

"Which I am very glad of," said Andrea, again smugly. "Who wants to be stinky?"

"Well, regardless, we have more Coast Guard personnel on the way," said LaSalle. "We will remove the prisoners, secure this island, then move on to the other islands. That could take a while, though. With the complications of determining which if any of the androids are legally sapient, the process will of necessity be slow. Moving on to the other islands probably will not occur until tomorrow. For now, I need your forces to scout and get us more information about the situation on this island. There might be more of those monsters around, as well as other costumed mercenaries. Your people are far better suited to dealing with both those than mine are."

"Right," said Steel Lace.

"Meanwhile, we'll set up a camp, here at the airport. We will feed and house your people and those of us who are staying ashore for the night."

"Excellent," said Tiger, grinning and looking hungry. Which made him more than a bit frightening.

With the two sets of Coast Guard vessels now monitoring the air traffic, Energia was finally allowed to land. Cumulous was also relieved of his tower duties, as properly trained military personnel took over for him.

"I love flying, but hovering or making slow circuits over the same group of islands for hours at a time is not my idea of fun," she said, when she was finally debriefed by Steel Lace.

"You go rest and recharge," said the leader of the super contingent. "We'll let you know if we need you."

Once the prisoners were gone, the combined Coast Guard task force set up a full camp inside the hangar. This had sleeping quarters and a kitchen, which enough capacity to handle those supers left after the prisoners - including the still-dazed combatants, who were finally removed from their barracks - were taken to various ships. The food prepared at the small airport was all US B-rations, but those working were too hungry to care about the lack of fresh ingredients. Active duty soldiers of any stripe - whether land, sea or air - were among the few groups of people who had nutrition needs similar to those of masked heroes, so the cooks had a good idea of what needed to be done to satisfy the appetites they would soon face. Meanwhile, the heroes were busy with cleanup. Steel Lace quickly organized people in pairs to head out in commandeered vehicles to do a quick search of the parts of the island the supers hadn't been to yet. They would start just by taking quick turns around the buildings and beach, warning those who may not have found out yet about what was going on to take cover, while also looking for suspicious activities.

Part Eleven

Vic found herself paired with Andrea. She was actually a bit nervous about this, since she'd never worked with an android before. However, they were both too busy with their assigned tasks to have much social interaction. They were looking for (and occasionally shouting a warning to) those still free on the island who were out and about, oblivious to the occupation. Also, the pair did occasionally have to depart their golf-cart-like vehicle to check something. Sometimes this was to respond to a request relayed over their coms. After having someone run from them once when they were ordered to stop, the duo worked out a plan for preventing such fleeing persons from getting away. For the most part, this worked well. Though not always...

"I think I saw someone sneaking down that alley," said Vic, quietly, looking away and pretending not to have noticed them. The visor on her helmet helped with that, since it made difficult the act of someone at a distance telling exactly where she was looking. Andrea stopped the quiet vehicle a little past the opening, where it could not be seen by anyone in the alley. Vic climbed out. "You head around the block to the other end. I'll wait until I get your signal and head in. I'll either find them or flush them out."

"Roger," said Andrea, also quietly.

However, as soon as the electric cart was around the corner, someone surprised Vic by stepping out of the alley.

The woman wore powder blue snug leggings with cloud patterns and a medium-blue sport top, going for the bare midriff look. She definitely had the body for it, being both curvy and very athletic. Though she was athletic like a body builder at a competition, with almost no body fat, except in specific places. Vic could tell all that was really her, with no padding beyond a sport bra, though as usual she felt a bit embarrassed at using her sense of perception to essentially look at a someone's body under their clothing. Vic had to know if the stranger had anything concealed, and if that was what she really looked like. Despite doing her best to keep her mind on business, Vic could definitely appreciate that the other woman was a legitimate C-cup - with a slight augmentation from the sport bra - and a very well-shaped one.

In this case, Vic was also quickly able to identify the woman by regular sight: Invicta. The "Super Battle Federation Champion."

"You," said Invicta, in a very hostile tone. "You're the one."

Vic already had a good idea that this woman was one of Stone's transformation subjects. That accusation pretty much confirmed her hunch.

"I was also one of Abraham Stone's victims," said Vic, quickly. "He drugged me, kidnapped me, imp..."

"I don't want to hear your excuses!" the woman screamed at Vic. "You ruined my life! Nobody accepts me as who I was, not even my family! I had to turn tricks to live! Until I found this place! Now... I'm the champion! My DNA was optimized, and I'm perfect!"

Yeah, she's lost it, thought Vic, sadly.

"What was that?" said Andrea

Before Vic could tell her partner what was going on, Invicta launched herself at Vic, in a charge. Vic stayed light on her feet, and at the last moment spun out of the way. However, Invicta gave a hop, and as she went by lashed out with a flying roundhouse kick which Vic was barely able to parry. Even with that, Vic was still almost knocked down.

Vic didn't want to fight Invicta, whom she saw as a victim of this place, and of Stone before that; Vic was there to carry out a search for people who needed to be rescued or arrested. The consensus among the invading heroes was that this did not include most of the participants in the fights. Still, the other woman wanted a fight, so Vic decided to follow Blue Impact's dictum about people who wanted to fight. However, she well understood that applying aggression would be a matter of timing. As Invicta again moved in - more cautiously this time - Vic pulled back, repeatedly switching leads as she stepped. However, Invicta not only followed, she closed. Which was what Vic wanted. When the other woman was close enough, Vic lashed out with a lead left roundhouse kick to the other woman's right hip.

Invicta danced back, smacking Vic's foot down with her left hand. She then threw a left lunging jab which Vic just parried. They quickly moved apart again, the other woman smiling grimly.

She hasn't had the same training as me, thought Vic, now a bit worried, but she's definitely had training.

Invicta's smile broadened a bit, and she suddenly launched a flurry of attacks. Vic was still primarily playing defense, and managed to dodge, block and parry all of them.

"In position," said Andrea, over Vic's com. "Note that this end of the alley is already blocked."

"Busy!" shouted Vic, glad she had her com set to VOX.

Invicta lunged in again. Vic used a rising side kick to her attacker's stomach to stop her advance. Invicta spun away, barely dodging, so there was only a glancing blow by Vic. As she went by, though, Vic managed to turn the rising side kick into a hook kick and got a mild strike to Invicta's right lower ribs.

Most throws or grappling techniques wouldn't work on Invicta; her costume was too snug and slick. Vic bet that both features were deliberate. Worse, Invicta had training and experience; obviously, a lot of both. However, it wasn't the self-defense and combat training and experience Vic had, but unlimited super fighting training for cage matches. Also, while her costume was good at hindering many techniques which required getting a grip on her, it offered no protection against strikes, as Vic's armor did. Invicta was fast and lithe and good at handling herself in both refereed bouts and the unlimited matches. Vic tried a few throws and takedowns with poor results. However, once she seriously started punching and kicking, Invicta was definitely outmatched. She also had no way to get through Vic's armor except brute force.

As Invicta threw a hard, right, roundhouse punch, stepping forward with it to put a lot of power behind it. Vic jammed this with an X-block, pushing her body against Invicta's. Vic slid her left hand down to Invicta's elbow and pulled her on around, spinning left to bring her right side towards Invicta. As Invicta came around, Vic threw a quick combination. She whipped into a right hammerfist to Invicta's solar plexus, and followed that by jerking her arm upwards, to hit the other woman in the chin with a rising elbow strike. Invicta's head snapped back, but her body was still moving with her punch and Vic's pull. Vic caught her behind the head with her right hand and used a variation on Kouchigari (minor inner reaping) to continue to spin Invicta around and drop her onto her back.

Vic, deciding to take no chances, then choked her out.

Andrea came wheeling back around the corner just in time to see the final set of strikes, and Vic's finishing move.

"Ah. Good work."

Vic wasn't sure, but she thought the android was impressed. However...

"I see a flaw in our plan," said Vic, a bit breathlessly, as she put restraints on Invicta, at the wrists and ankles. "Her tactic makes me think she saw what we were doing or perhaps even heard us planning."

"Regardless, she's currently under control but dangerous enough that we need to get her back to the hanger now. We can finish the patrol later."

"Agreed."

* * *

With the two Coast Guard forces working together to intercept any boats or planes (escape using both of those types of vehicle were tried by some of the occupants of the islands, and neither was successful; submarines were watched for but none were seen) and thereby prevent any unapproved departures from the islands, the supers continued their cleanup.

The Coast Guards took charge of the prisoners, though LaSalle reported to Steel Lace that their brigs were a bit crowded, even with the mind controlled participants from the cage matches placed in sick bays. Cong, who was finally showing signs of reviving, was also in one of the sick bays. The costumed heroes on shore were fed well in the camp kitchen. As dusk approached a few of the masks actually departed, but most decided to spend the night. However, that was still a ways off. The days were long during the Summers this far north.

One person from the island who was not in a brig or sick bay was Bombardier. He had made a favorable enough impression on enough people - mostly with his inside information on how things on the island functioned - that he was being considered one of the rescuers. Vic, after bringing the restrained and still-unconscious Invicta to the airport for transport to a neutralizer-equipped brig, finally found time to talk with the "man on the inside" as Bombardier had labelled himself.

"How did you manage to avoid the mind control this time?" Vic asked him, once the greetings were out of the way.

"I know a gadgeteer. He put shielding in my cowl."

He may be smarter than I thought.

They spoke for a while, mostly about what had happened at the body farm after "Bombardier" left. Soon, though, Vic needed to get back with Andrea and finish their patrol.

As that activity wound down, the leaders of the super and Coast Guard contingents were comparing notes. They agreed that the work on the main island was done. Soon, the team leaders dispersed to spread what they had learned and planned.

"We think we have all the buildings on the main island searched and cleared," said Steel Lace, in a report to her team after she had briefed the leaders of other teams. "Oh; the medium of exchange here is a record of credit based on a unit of value assigned by the The Super Battle Federation. Which is why the fact that they were charging participants in the fights for room and board didn't show on any of their reports. They also set all prices and payments in a way which ensured that once here none of the employees would ever get out of debt."

"Wow," said Tiger, in revelation. "A real company town."

"There's something else," said Champion in another area, to her team. "None of you know this, yet, but checking the tech and the people who worked here, they had a mad inventor or maybe a mastermind who was responsible for the advanced gadgets and the enhancements received by some of the combatants. The gadgets included artificial mind control to keep not only the fighters but the staff and guests from causing problems. The man doing all this went by Rasputnik and matches the description of the man on Kravaal Island."

"Grigori Yefimovich had the same tall, thin frame, lean, ascetic face and burning eyes, and supposedly a strong hypnotic ability as the descriptions of the mind controller on Kravaal Island," said Tiger, frowning and perhaps even speaking from personal experience, after Steel Lace told her group of Bay Area Guardians this. "That... fits. The mad monk was known both to have followers and many illegitimate children. Some by the Tsarina's own maids. He was also very slippery, as well as being notoriously difficult to kill."

He looked worried as he glanced around at the other members of the other members of their team.

"He was also claimed to be a master of black magic by his enemies. So... be very careful. This guy... He could be worse than Abraham Stone, at least in terms of being hard to capture."

* * *

Ships from both Coast Guards spent the night cruising around the island the helicopters and flying supers had come from, using loudspeakers to advise those there to surrender. The loud, recorded voices echoed across the water, and could be clearly heard on the main island. However, given the level of activity they had experienced during the day, few of the supers bedding down at the airport for the night had trouble sleeping. Fortunately for the crews on the ships, they worked in rotation. Drones showed buildings, but no activity. Interrogation of those captured revealed that while there were boats at the dock, the helicopters which had been used to assault the heroes at the airport were the only aircraft on that island.

The next morning, the two Coast Guard commanders and the heads of the various super teams prepared a combined operation. Cumulous and Energia were both free to fly high cover for this.

After a hearty breakfast and a half hour to make ready, the invasion got underway.

"There's nobody here!" said Tiger, as the combined force of over two dozen supers and more than a hundred Coast Guard personnel swept first the dock area, then the offices ringing them. "Worse, they've taken all their computers and files!"

That was not quite true. In many of the buildings they found still-smoldering fires which had obviously been used to destroy both papers and hard drives. This was very deliberate; the fire sprinklers had been turned off to allow this to proceed. Fortunately, none of those fires had spread, thanks to the modern construction of these buildings. There was also obviously far more missing than could be accounted for by those combustive disposal efforts.

"So where are they?" said Steel Lace, who was among those left on the main island, over their coms. "Holed up in the homes we can see around the base of that hill? Or, since we haven't seen any activity there, in deep bunkers?"

"I have a sneaking feeling they somehow evacuated," said Tiger, scowling. "Remember, they had a mastermind or gadgeteer working here for at least three years. He could have easily devised some way to get everyone off the island tracelessly."

The Coast Guard personnel were doubtful that anyone or anything had made it through their cordon without being detected. However, Tiger and several of the other supers present had enough experience with the aftermath of "nobody could have escaped that" events to be doubtful.

"Energia, do you sense any activity the drones might be missing?" said Steel Lace.

"Not down near sea level," said the general energy/force manipulator. "However, I can tell you that mountain definitely is just full of things like worked metal. Not ordinary steel, either."

"Have you taken a look inside that crater?"

"Not since yesterday," Energia admitted. She gained altitude. "I'll check again."

However, as she flew towards the rim a call from the ground searchers caught her attention.

"Hey, I just saw Unduly Özil heading north from an outbuilding near the management complex in some sort of ATV," said Tiger. He sounded breathless. "It's a lot faster than I am."

"Who we got on high cover who can get there quickly?" said Steel Lace.

"Just me, right now," said Energia, again changing course, and also gaining speed. "I see him, though."

"For now, follow, but don't confront," said Steel Lace. "Stay out of sight if you can. We want to see where he's going."

"Gotcha'a," said Energia. "Wow, he's really moving. That thing's more like an offroad rally car than an ATV."

"Can you keep up?" said Steel Lace.

"Oh, yeah," said Energia, managing not to scoff. "Even if he were going straight, instead of weaving around things."

Moments later, though, things - and the ATV - took an odd turn.

"Now he's heading straight up the hill," said Energia. "There's no road, but there is a heavily used path."

"Which hill?" said Mesa, who was on the same island but still down by the docks.

"There's only one on this island," said Energia. "The one that looks like a volcano but isn't. He's on a rough trail which heads to what looks like the boarded-up entrance to an old mine. Okay, he just stopped, got out of his vehicle and went into the mine. Which is odd. The mine, I mean. You don't usually have mines in volcanos. Of course, that's definitely not a volcano. From what I saw yesterday, the crater looks like it's lined with something which isn't your usual rock, or even metal. It's more like concrete. Though, as noted before, I am also sensing a lot of metal inside the hill."

"One moment," said Andrea. "While there area volcanos in nearby chains, this mountain is not listed as one."

"I think I just said it wasn't one," said Energia, distracted.

"So, it's probably some sort of mastermind underground fortress," said Mesa, sounding worried. "Watch out. He could launch an escape rocket from that crater. Or a huge death ray."

"Don't go to the mine entrance yet," said Steel Lace. "Staying close to the ground, peek over the lip of the crater."

"Roger," said Energia, who was already almost to that. "Not much I didn't see before, although there's something at the bottom. Can't see it clearly."

"Stay out of the crater," said Steel Lace. "What do.."

"Whoah!" said Energia, quickly ducking below the rim. "That is hot!"

"What's wrong?" said Steel Lace, reflexively looking toward the crater, from where she was standing at the docks on the main island. Was it just her imagination, or was there a faintly glowing cone reaching from crater rim into space?

"Wow," said Tiger, whose senses were almost as keen as her sensors, and fed directly into his brain. "Wonder that that'll look like at night!"

Well, that answered that...

"Keep everyone back!" Energia called out over their coms. "There's an uncontrolled fission chain reaction in that pit!"

"I can confirm a huge amount of ionizing radiation - particulate and electromagnetic - blasting upwards from the crater," said Steel Lace, now that she had her sensors engaged. "Lost of X-ray, gamma and neutrons, with traces of other things."

Several masks on both islands as well as many Coast Guard personnel reported that there was now an eerie glow radiating upwards from the crater.

Part Twelve

"This... is completely outside our mandate," said Rear-admiral LaSalle, from where he stood on the dock beside Steel Lace, staring in shock at the smaller island. "We were sent here to clean up an illegal fight racket involving supers. Not deal with a full-blown mad science event!"

"Well, it's a good thing we're here, then," said Steel Lace, straight-faced.

"What are we gonna do about the crater?" said Energia, over the coms. "It's like another Chernobyl!"

"Actually, no," said Steel Lace, rechecking her suit's instruments. "There's lot of radiation, but almost no fallout. Whatever is causing the ionization, it's not accompanied by much smoke or vapor. There's just lots and lots of ionizing radiation. Probably to deter intruders."

"What if we collapse the crater rim in on it to smother the reaction?" said Maciste.

"You'd create a lot of fallout," said Tiger. "Listen, right now nearly all of the damaging stuff is ionizing radiation heading straight up. Just notify space control of the hazard, and wait for it to burn out. Intense reactions like that usually don't last long, and this is in a refractory pit well above the water table."

"I want everyone on the management island to pull back," said Steel Lace. "At least until we can get people with radiation counters to check where is safe. Rear-admiral LaSalle agrees with me and is ordering his people back, too. Energia, can you get close enough to the mine entrance you saw to check it? I probably don't need to tell you to watch for traps."

"On it. It wouldn't be safe here for most people, but it's not a problem for me. I could even go inside the crater, though not close to the source."

"Just check out the entrance, please," said Steel Lace.

"I'm thinking... both islands might have indirect access to the old SubTerran tunnels," said Tiger, thoughtfully rubbing his chin as he stood with the vehicle shed Özil had left from between himself and the crater. "Just one of my hunches.

"Which are right an unnerving part of the time," said Steel Lace. "Go on."

"Most of those facilities have been mapped, by now, though there are still some branches which haven't been entered in millennia. The SubTerrans usually avoided volcanoes, but in some places they went shallow - well, for their tunnels - and wove their way around magma chambers at a safe distance. Of course, all those were built tens of thousands of years ago, and many volcanoes have gone dormant or have formed from scratch since then. Even the continents have moved a significant amount, on the scale of constructs built across faults. Which is why some sections are isolated."

"Yes, but volcanism in the Cascades began tens of millions of years ago, and the youngest volcanoes in the range began forming well over a hundred thousand years ago," said Andrea, after accessing her onboard databases.

"So this could have been a SubTerran tunnel entrance or not," said Energia, as her boots touched gently to the soil on the path leading to the boarded-up entrance. "Okay, I just landed at the 'mine.' Radiation here is barely above background, thanks to the crater rim. I'm pulling out my camera. Gadgetive should be able to get you hooked up to my video feed."

"We're getting it," said Steel Lace, who was actually looking over Gadgetive's shoulder.

"The outer part looks like human construction," said Energia, "but all made of old, weathered wood. Maybe several centuries old."

"That could easily be faked," said Tiger, remembering the door to the house on Kravaal Island. Another similarity.

"We have people - including from both Coast Guards - sending drones," said Steel Lace. "However, they can't get too close to the crater. So, for now, you're on you own. Keep talking, and keep showing us what you're seeing."

"Okay, I'm sensing a lot of metal - modern armor steel by the feel of it - beyond the old, boarded-up entrance. I think this outer part is actually hinged to swing aside. The armored door I'm not sure about."

"Watch for traps!" said Gadgetive.

"Yes, Mother," said Energia, rolling her eyes.

She did do a thorough scan. She didn't find traps, but she did learn quite a bit about what lay beyond the wood.

"You remember the armored outside door at that concealed Nazi factory?"

"Yes," said Gadgetive.

"Yes," said Blue Impact.

"This makes that look like plywood. I don't have enough juice to burn a hole through it, and it's too thick for me to work the latches from this side."

"Well, when you can, try to see what's happening in the crater," said Steel Lace. "The activity there seems to be dying down."

"Roger."

Energia took off again and lifted cautiously to the rim of the crater.

"Yeah, it's a lot less active, now. I'm going over the edge to get a better look inside. Should be able to recharge while I'm doing it, too. Putting the camera away. It probably wouldn't work in there, anyway."

"Be careful!" said Blue Impact.

"Whoah!" said Energia, again, obviously still impressed. Her voice was less distinct, thanks to the intervening rock and metal, plus the ambient radiation, but it was still understandable. "Looks like the whole bottom of the crater melted down into the ground a ways. The bottom looks larger, now, too, and is all molten."

"I bet they activated whatever it was to seal off their escape route," said Tiger, sounding angry even over their coms.

"According to what my people have been able to piece together from the documentation which was left unburned," said LaSalle, "someone using the island many years ago found an underground garage of late SubTerran construction equipment under that fake volcano. Which they - the SubTerrans - originally used for ventilation, back when it was just a hill with an exhaust vent at the top. For some reason - maybe because the original finders were smugglers - this was never reported. The people behind the fight club had their mastermind - Rasputnik - supervise using the equipment to remodel the hill to look like a volcano. No reason has been found for this, yet. All this was among the oldest records our people have found here. Apparently those burning the evidence started with the newest material and didn't have time to get to the oldest. Ironically, that meant that what we were looking for right now was easy to find."

"That's another crime we can add to the list," said Tiger, now definitely angry. "Not only producing a superfund nuclear cleanup site, not only damaging a previously unknown old SubTerran tunnel, but destroying their machines. They aren't making those any more!"

"Hold on," said Energia. "The radiation is dying down a bit more. I can see... That's not a reactor! It's a person! Floating on the molten... whatever it is."

"Don't go down there unless you are sure you can handle it!" said Steel Lace, sternly.

"No problem. I know my limits. I'm not in a hurry, either. That place should be cool enough - in both senses - soon."

"We have some drones over the crater, now," said LaSalle. "A couple of them have zoom lenses on their cameras. We can verify there is a figure there. Looks like a naked man. Trying to identify."

Energia, her store now nearly full, rose back above the crater rim.

"Yeah, it's going to be a while before I can get much closer than I already did," she said, her voice again clearer. "There's also a lot of fumes, too, and not much wind gets down there. I'll probably have to use my respirator. Anything else you need me to look at right now?"

"My people think they've identified the person in the crater," said LaSalle, sounding shocked. "They think that's Afterglow, the Ground Zero Man!"

"He is thought to have died decades ago!" said Tiger, now also shocked.

"I'm... not familiar with him," said Energia, still flying slowly around the rim of the crater.

"Basically, he was a someone killed and animated by a huge dose of radiation," said Tiger, who might have had personal knowledge. "No metabolism, but still able to move and think. He slowly went crazy from the combined effects of the ionizing radiation messing with his nervous system, and the social isolation. Few dared to get physically close to him. He is thought to have sacrificed himself absorbing the energy of a mad science device on an island in the South Pacific, thereby saving a huge swath of the planet from a doomsday device which could have eventually irradiated the entire planet. He channelled the radiation from that into space, shutting down the chain reaction driving things in the process. Only, when he was done, he was gone. Experts said he had expended all his substance in the effort. That was close to forty years ago. If that is him, this is the first sign of him - to public knowledge - since then."

"Yet another complication," said LaSalle, with a tired sigh.

* * *

As they waited for the radiation to die away, with little else they could do meanwhile, the heroes began digesting what they had recently learned.

"If there actually is a connection between events between here and Silver Lake that might be the reason security and lower management here were warned I'm not a real cop," said Vic, frowning. "If the mind-controller I faced on Kravaal Island decided to check on me, it would have been easy to find out who I was. As well as find images of me in and out of the armor."

She sighed and shook her head.

"Sometimes I envy you folks with secret IDs."

"They do come in handy," said Blue Impact. "Though they have their own disadvantages, as I'm sure you are aware of. From working with Tricorne, if not your job. That also wouldn't have prevented him from getting images of you in armor if what you hypothesize is what actually happened."

"Now I'm thinking we should warn the Park Service at Silver Lake to be on the lookout for a bunch of management types and office workers making their way out of the park."

"Oooh, not a bad idea," said Blue Impact. She rose, and hurried off to find Steel Lace and LaSalle, as she went speaking over her shoulder. "I just hope somebody thought of this sooner."

As it happened, someone had. Several people, in fact, had pointed out that possible scenario to both Steel Lace and the head of the Coast Guard operation, not long after the presence of SubTerran workings were suspected. So far, there was no response from Silver Lake. However, Both Tiger and Vic called FBI Special Agent Folgert on Kravaal Island to pass along the warning. They actually got together physically and made it a conference call. This was done directly, through cell phones, by both. Tiger and Vic were assured the alarm system had not reported any unexpected arrivals. However, the people working there would be on alert.

* * *

"Well, I called my boss and he asked the FBI to put out notices on the few people we have enough ID for to make that worth doing," said Vic, to the members of Tricorne, once they were back together. "Turns out Unduly Özil and several of the others were already wanted, for multiple felonies. However, they've been wanted for at least a decade each. It doesn't seem likely they'll be caught any time soon. There are several people going by the name Rasputnik who are listed on national or international warrants, some of them going back nearly a century. So, they aren't likely to be caught, either. At least, not any time soon."

"Well, that's unsatisfying," muttered Gadgetive, looking irritated.

"Unfortunately, that's the sort of thing I deal with in my job," said Vic, with a heartfelt sigh. "Law enforcement - as opposed to mask hero work - far more often involves cold cases which are never solved."

She settled down to wait with the others. Soon, though, her brilliant phone rang. The ID was for Special Agent Folgert.

"Yes. Whoah, no kidding. Yeah, not sure how long it'll take, but I'll get there as soon as I can."

She hung up and looked at the others.

"They're asking that Tiger and I return to Kravaal Island as soon as we can. Their alarm system showed someone coming onto the island, and they think it's the mind controller. I don't suppose you can give the two of us a ride?"

"Why are they asking for you two, specifically?" said Blue Impact.

"We've both worked with them before."

"Energia has to stay here," said Blue Impact, quickly overriding the youngest member of Tricorne. "She's one of the few who can enter that crater without danger, and probably the only one who wouldn't need decontamination afterwards. Gadgetive should probably stay, too. However, I can pilot the pod and give you and Tiger a lift."

"Excellent! I'll go tell him."

Part Thirteen

As the Blue Impact, Vic and Tiger were approaching Tricorne's large apergy pod, Mesa hurried to intercept them.

"Steel Lace just got a flash from the Park Service at North Cascades National Park," he told them, as they walked quickly along. "They intercepted a bunch of people crowded into a few dusty electric vans on the way out of the park. Thanks to our warning, the rangers were on the lookout for them. They were suspicious because not only did their vehicles look like they had been parked somewhere inside for a long time, and not only were they coming from a part of the Park which is off limits to visitors, and not only did no-one remember them coming into the park, but none of them were dressed for the area or the weather."

"Now that is some good news," said Tiger. "I don't supposed that Unduly Özil and Rasputnik were among them."

"None of the people they caught were listed by name," said Mesa, as they reached the pod. He shrugged. "Oh, well; you will soon be in the Park, yourselves, and can check on things."

"When all the rest of this is settled," said Blue Impact, firmly, "we really need to find where the SubTerran tunnel entrance is in that area."

"Definitely," said Tiger, nodding. "I know there are mines in that area, going back well over a century, but don't recall if there are any volcanos."

* * *

They soon discovered that what the rangers who had caught the escapees from the island complex meant by "not dressed for the weather."

"That is some solid cloud cover," said Blue Impact, as the pod descended. "Local weather report says there's intermittent heavy rain and high winds. However, right now it's just overcast over the lake. We'll have to make our approach with radar, but the bottoms of the clouds are well above water level, so I can land visually."

That she did. There were a few nervous moments as they passed blindly through the clouds, but guided by radar as they were they emerged from the heavy layer safely above an empty section of lake. Soon they were approaching the island.

"I think," said Tiger, to their pilot, as the apergy pod squeezed into the small area cleared one one side of the house, beside the FBI camp, "that you should stay here. Vic and I have both been after this guy before, and she's at least somewhat resistant to domination. Special Agent Folgert is a known resister, but he's physically a normal human. That way, if Rasputnik or someone using one of his devices comes to the house you and Folgert working together should be able to stop them easily. Even if he has a low-level super or two for reinforcements, like he did once before."

"Okay," said Blue Impact, not happy at missing the hunt but seeing the wisdom of Tiger's words.

The entire FBI staff on the island was there to greet them, which led to the three heroes being on alert. Had someone already dominated them, and directed them to attack the trio? Fortunately, they were just glad to see the reinforcements.

"We got an alert just a few minutes ago on our security perimeter of a boat grounding on the beach, and some people getting out," said agent Folgert. "Not far from the location where that fisherman who started all this did, actually. Since then we've watched on the monitors as two people move inland, very slowly and cautiously. I don't know if they're looking for something or just trying to sneak up on us. Their progress has not been directly towards our camp and the house, but they have come gradually closer."

"They might just be fishermen seeking refuge from the storms," said Tiger, scowling. "I wouldn't bet on that, though."

"Or someone who heard about what that first fisherman found, and deciding to take a look," said Vic. "Though, yeah, that's not the way to bet."

Folgert held up a device about the size and shape of a pad. Vic reached for it, but the head of the local FBI contingent was already handing it to Tiger. Vic fumed a bit, but kept her peace.

"This is one of the portable displays for the detection system. We - including you three, now - are each marked with a green X. The unknowns are each a red X. Moving things smaller than humans are marked with a minus. Those bigger are designated with an O, since a plus might be confused for an X. You can see there are several moose on the island, so you need to watch for them, too."

"One of the people we're looking for is a mastermind," said Vic, looking at Tiger. "Just how good is this security system? How easy would it be for him to find it and spoof it?"

"Uhm, in detail, unknown," said Tiger, who was a bit distracted by the display unit. "I do know that this system was put together and installed by our own gadgeteers, so it's pretty secure. I also know that the techs and Steel Lace said they did a good job of installing the perimeter units where they'd be hard to spot."

"So, for now, trust them," said Vic, nodding, "but keep in mind that Rasputnik might be leading us around by our noses."

"Pretty much," said Tiger, nodding.

"Wait," said Folgert, holding up a hand. "Rasputnik?"

"He was probably the mind controller who kept coming here," said Tiger. "Not sure why, though he apparently knows Unduly Özil. We've verified that both were involved with the people who set up the super fights. Most likely, highly involved."

"Wow. I've heard of him. Or them. We probably got off lightly, then, if half of what I've heard is accurate."

* * *

"Okay," said Tiger, staring at the portable security display as they tramped along a game trail which led generally in the right direction, "if this is accurate, the boat is still on the beach, with at least one person still in or close by it. Two or three - this thing can't seem to make up its mind - are wandering around the island."

"Okay, we need to clarify something," said Vic, firmly. "You've got the pad, but I've got the arrest powers. Which means if we do find and capture the intruders I get to take them into custody."

"Huh? Oh, okay," said Tiger, with a careless shrug.

Vic remember that he had little of the sort of social motivations which might have led others to try and upstage her. He literally didn't care about that sort of thing.

"Good," said Vic, a bit lamely. "Just wanted that to be clear."

Vic wondered if she might be unconsciously influenced by such factors, herself. Well, that sort of introspection would have to wait for later. Right now, they had dangerous criminals to stalk. As well as potentially dangerous animals they needed to avoid being stalked by.

"I'm starting to think that they're not heading for the house," said Tiger, frowning at the display. "It almost looks like they're hunting for something on a different part of the island. Problem is, something might also be hunting them. I don't mean us, either."

"What do you mean?"

"There's been that one, particularly aggressive moose which you and I and the FBI people had to keep chasing off. It was a really big bull, and the rest of the moose - Meece? - on the island are all cows."

"Huh. A private harem."

"If so, that would definitely explain why he's so protective. Only I don't think moose maintain herds, the way horses do. I think the males are only interested in females during the breeding season. Except I don't know when that is!"

He gave Vic a sloppy grin.

"Too bad Andrea isn't here. She could look that up in a few microseconds."

With the security system to guide them, they soon closed on the intruders. However, as Tiger had feared, so had the bull moose. Moments later, they could hear some sort of disturbance from the direction where the pad showed the moose and the two or three human signals were converging.

They put on some speed, ignoring the trails which might lead in the general direction they wanted. Tiger simply plowed ahead, the pad held behind him to protect it from the brush. Vic's armor protected her.

"There's that moose again," said Tiger, slowing suddenly.

"Looks like it's in a hurry," said Vic.

"It is also very angry."

Indeed, they soon heard a distinctly human scream. Hurrying to the scene they saw the moose aggressively trampling something very bloody and messy.

Tiger's aura flickered, and solidified into the translucent image of a tiger, surrounding him.

"Git!"

Under that baleful presence, Vic almost "got" herself, even though it was not directed at her. The moose rolled its eyes, spun around with surprising agility, and ran off.

"Uhm," said Tiger, moving a bit closer. "Not a lot left. Rasputnik's scent leads to here, but it's then covered by... well, other scents."

Indeed, the thoroughly trampled remains were too mangled to be easily identified. The pair of supers made a circuit around the site, and found no tracks leading away, except for those left by the panicked moose.

"Do you really think that was the end of Rasputnik?" said Vic.

"I'd bet against it. The remains are too torn up to resemble anyone. Besides, there should have been at least one other person involved. We're not seeing that. Someone disguised the tracks, in and out. That someone was probably Rasputnik."

He checked the pad.

"Now it's showing one or two humans heading back to the beach. From there they'll presumably head to the boat. I think we should make haste in that direction."

The set off, Tiger again in the lead, heading straight for the beached boat. Vic called Folgert and gave him the digest version of what had happened.

"The FBI will secure the remains," said Vic, a bit breathlessly, after ending the call. "They'll do a DNA analysis, but that'll just tell us who the trampled person is. Not whether they're Rasputnik; there's no reliable DNA for anyone using that name. I think he and Özil both got away."

"Probably," said Tiger, with an aggravated sigh. He glanced at the pad. "Argh. They are already back at the beach, almost to the boat. I don't think we're going to make it before they leave."

Another quick call to the FBI to tell them about the boat, and asking them to have the Park Service intercept it. The boat definitely seemed to be in a hurry as it pulled away from Kravaal Island. Vic called Blue Impact and arranged a pickup for herself and Tiger at the beach. The duo changed course to the shortest path to the lake.

"With luck we might be able to catch up to the boat in the pod," Vic said, after the older super confirmed. "Though we need to hurry. I see rain coming towards us across the lake."

However, once they were airborne they could find no sign of a boat speeding directly away from the island; not even on radar. There were, indeed, several boats on the lake, but all were either obviously fishing boats heading for shelter, or were one of the three Park Service boats speeding toward the island.

"Did they have some sort of stealth device in that thing?" said Tiger, obviously irritated.

"I'm not seeing anything," said Blue Impact. "Not visually, not on IR, not on radar."

"For some reason, I'm not surprised," said Vic, with a tired sigh.

* * *

By the time Vic and Blue Impact returned to the scene of the moose attack, the FBI team - after girding their stomachs - had started their evidence gathering. Tiger had gone with some other FBI agents and park rangers to where the boat had beached, to see if they could find any evidence there.

"No problem finding where the boat was," said Tiger, when everyone got together under the canopy at the FBI camp to compare notes, "even in the rain. However, there's no scents. Not even of aluminum or gasoline. Don't ask me how they did that. Maybe through magic. There hadn't been enough rain at that time to completely remove scents."

The rain was, indeed, currently pounding down. The FBI forensics team had barely gathered their evidence before it was obliterated. Now, with the excitement apparently over at least for the moment, the sound on the awning over them was relaxing. Vic found herself fighting a bit not to zone out. Some of the FBI people had already failed at this.

"Well, for now our part looks like it's over," said Vic. She gave another huge sigh. "I bet this whole episode was arranged so Rasputnik and Özil and maybe some others could leave whoever the moose victim as a red herring. Or maybe so they could dispose of someone for falling down on the job. Possibly both."

"No bet," said Tiger. "Well, let's get back to the pod and back to the cleanup on the tournament island."

* * *

Once back on Smuggler's Island - which turned out to be the collective name for all the islands in the group, even though that name was not on any official map - the trio had little catching up to do.

"About the only major development is that Canada and the US are each trying to get the other to deal with whoever - or whatever - was the radiation source," said Steel Lace. "This may actually get the two governments to decide who owns these islands."

"I just hope they decide quickly," said Energia. "I mean, that guy, whoever he is, is just lying there."

"Well, if that is Afterglow, he's been clinically dead for nearly half a century," said Tiger. "He's just too radioactive to decay."

"In other news," aid Steel Lace, "Many of the people we arrested, either here on the islands or in that park, are foreign nationals; not from Canada or the US. That includes most of those who were paying guests. Some are international businessmen. Some are even diplomats, who are already claiming immunity, and demanding they be released immediately. They were all technically aiding and abetting multiple crimes, or course."

"There's going to be a huge international row about this," said Tiger, grinning. "I'm actually looking forward to helping ruin some careers."

"Well, if that's true," said Vic, "I'll do what I can to make sure that what they're getting immunity from in this case becomes public knowledge."

"My biggest concern," said Steel Lace, tiredly, "is that several pro-super charities have lost a significant part of their donations. We're already getting complaints about that."

Part Fourteen: Epilog

Days later, Cong was finally released from US Coast Guard custody for discipline by the Bay Area Guardians. Since the islands had been unclaimed at the time of his one-man invasion, both the US and Canadian governments had decided not to press charges. (Whether someone representing the island's management would was another matter.) In a very deliberate decision, the governments of the two nations left his punishment to his peers. He was picked up by Mesa, Andrea and Lungfish and brought back to San Francisco. Fortunately for all involved, he behaved himself.

The hearing did not go well for Cong. Partly because he refused representation, announcing he would defend himself. As it turned out, his only defense against accusations of some serious violations of both US law and the charter of the Bay Area Guardians was to repeatedly and insistently say he had done the right thing. He didn't even try the tactic of nullification, admitting he broke the law but that in this case the law was wrong, as an attorney might have. In the end he was, of course, off the team. As well as blacklisted.

"I still think it was worth it," said Cong, defiantly, once judgement was announced. "My career as a super hero may be over, but I got that whole place cleaned out and the fight racket shut down. I consider that an equitable trade."

"You did nothing but force our hand!" said Steel Lace, furious that he still didn't see what he had done wrong. As team leader she was prohibited from being the judge, that role going to the senior attorney on retainer for the Bay Area Guardians. However, she was the one who formally announced the penalty. "We had plans in the works for a unified operation, which would have been a lot safer for all concerned. On top of that, the Coast Guards of both nations were already on the way! We were just lucky that having to jump the gun like that didn't result in fatalities. Or failure!"

Still refusing to accept blame, he glared at Steel Lace.

"If not for me, you would still be sitting on your ass, ignoring the situation!"

"We weren't ignoring it," said Steel Lace, acidly. "We were working with the feds and three Canadian super teams - including the Toronto Team - on a legal takedown of those behind the racket. You got us involved in a situation where the charges may not stick, some of the organizers got away, with a huge increase in risk to everyone involved, just because you thought your impatience was more important than proper procedure."

"I'm still glad I did it. No telling how many supers would have suffered or even died while you folks did your paperwork."

"Well, to reiterate, you're off the team," said Steel Lace, deciding to give it up as a lot cause. "If you had shown any sign that you had learned anything from your mistakes we'd work with you. As it is, you're getting your two-weeks notice. You'll probably even face indictment, once the civilian governments catch up!"

"I don't care. I did what was right."

* * *

After he left, Steel Lace sought out Tiger in his Base Engineer's office and briefed him on the matter. She paced while doing this, then dropped into his guest chair when she finished.

"Was I right?" she asked after a long moment of silence. "I mean, I was just as concerned as he was about what was happening, but felt that going through proper procedure was more important that immediate action."

"Yeah," said Tiger, nodding. "In this case, definitely yeah. Oh, we could have sent a covert team in to demolish the place if there was some immediate need, but this had been going on for years and wasn't getting worse while we gathered data and went through channels. It took patience and cooperation to dig out the roots of that institution. I just hope we got 'em all."

"Even if we did," said Steel Lace, tiredly, "we now have a moral obligation to find a replacement for the money this cost some charities."

* * *

At roughly this same time, Vic was having a private briefing from her boss.

"The figure in the crater turned out to be a dummy," said Drake. "An android, actually. The radiation source was a block of unenriched uranium under it - in an armor ceramic, high-pressure container - activated by three concealed neutron beams from devices around the inside of the crater. Why they wanted us to think a long-gone hero was the source is unknown."

"Typical mastermind flourish," said Vic, spreading her hands in a shrug. "Creating confusion among 'lessers' is the sort of thing which amuses them."

"On a related matter, we have an ID on Invicta," said Drake. "We now have her birth name - Emilia Bradford - and background. Her history isn't what she claimed. While her family could have been more supportive after Stone changed her, it was her idea to abandon them. She tried working in professional wrestling, but got thrown out. We're still trying to figure how she wound up with the Super Combat Federation."

"So was she just spinning a story for sympathy?" said Vic, thoughtfully. "Or was she delusional? Or was she given that story by Rasputnik? Maybe some combination?"

"That will probably take a while to determine," said Drake. "Meanwhile, the DNA tests on the moose-trampled corpse identified the victim as petty criminal known for his ability with cooking the books for boss criminals. So not either Unduly Özil or Rasputnik. How he came to be there and mangled is something else we'll have to work out later.

"Which reminds, me, are you sure that moose wasn't some sort of android? With all the human androids involved and that moose behaving unusually..."

"We actually thought of that," said Vic, nodding. "Tiger said it was a real moose, and his senses are a lot keener than mine; though neither of us got close enough to use our sense of perception on it. Whether Rasputnik's mind control extends to animals is another matter."

* * *

Vic definitely got some compensatory leave for the time involved with her work on the islands. Something both she and Michelle greatly appreciated. Especially since Michelle also had some leave time accrued. The romantic duo were able to arrange for substitutes at their respective jobs for the same days off. Much of this vacation time was spent visiting family.

Back in Detroit, on the second-last night before they were scheduled to return to work, the couple were enjoying themselves at Wok on the Wild Side. They picked this particular night because the place was set up for the weekly karaoke event. Better, this week's theme was "Nostalgia." Vic and Michelle did a duet of "Piano Roll Blues" to mild acclaim, then sat down to enjoy the rest of the performances. After a short while, though, there was a pause in those.

"Looks like they ran out of volunteers early tonight," said Vic. "Oh! Did I tell you that Drake called me this afternoon with some good news? The Detroit office of the Bureau of Special Resources got the new employee we've been needing. A woman named Dela True."

"Sounds like a character from the Perry Mason show," said Michelle, who liked old TV programs. She grinned. "I wondered who was calling, and why you seemed happy afterwards. I figured you'd tell me eventually. Which you did."

Vic was about to coyly suggest heading back to their apartment, when the parking lot door opened.

A man came in, wearing what looked like motorcyclist's leathers, with an electric guitar slung across his back. A custom Gibson. He appeared young and slim, but possessed a gravitas which only comes with great age, much experience or some combination. Casually, he walked towards the karaoke stage, calmly looking around, attracting little attention. Some people did notice, though, and fell silent. Vic, who was one of those, thought he looked familiar. He turned towards her, smiled and put his finger to his lips; and she knew.

The man stepped onto the empty stage, plugged his guitar in with it still on his back, and took the mike. Without him doing anything else, music began playing. Mostly electric piano, with bass, drum and cymbal backing, in a deceptively mild tune.

He took a deep breath, and began a rapid-fire chanting.

"B. B. Bumble and the Stingers, Mott the Hoople, Ray Charles Singers,

"Lonnie Mack and Twangin' Eddy, here's my ring we're goin' steady."

He kept going for an impressively long time, and when he finally stopped to breathe the chorus came in.

"Life is a rock but the radio rolled me."

When the song finished he bowed to a standing ovation. Then, as calmly and casually as he had entered, he unplugged his apparently unused guitar and left the restaurant. As unhurriedly as he had arrived.

"Who was that?" said Michelle, stunned, as they finally resumed their seats.

"The god of rock," whispered Vic.

* * *

"Well, that's one training ground ruined," said the woman, sourly, after the preliminary reports were presented. She looked over at the aide in charge of cleanup. "You sure you got rid of anything which could connect us with the Super Battle Federation?"

There were fewer than a dozen people present in the meeting room. However, through their cascading ranks of underlings they decided policy and for and actions of thousands. Together, they would fix the world.

"Yeah," said the man, nodding. "Even that guy Özil didn't know that the guards he was using were our plants, there to train to take out supers."

The man laughed.

"He just kept griping that the fatality rate was too high."

"Good work," said the leader, now also nodding. She looked around the table. "We should keep a low profile for a while, but probably not too long. Our overall plans remain unaffected. We'll soon have an army of normal humans who can effectively kill supers."