Flamma Argentea

by

Rodford Edmiston

One of the things I want to explore with this story is the logical progression of character power advancement as it would occur in a long-running role-playing game. Argent will go through power upgrades, some gradual, some discontinuous. They will all follow the rules for the Aberrant game, as I run it. (See here: http://www.dcr.net/~stickmak/Gaming/SinCity.htm )Argent will start out as a fairly typical Nova, but through hard training, hard-earned experience and a Major Plot Device will roughly double her abilities by 2000. All using rules from the game books and my house rules. As a result, Argent will become very powerful by the end of the story, over a period of about a decade. (Most RPGs seem to implicitly assume short character life.)

The character will not only change physically and in her powers, but in her role in this world, as she becomes more powerful and more important.

Part Eighteen

03/23/1998

When Argent entered his office just after lunch, Johnson stood, moved to meet her and gave her a warm handshake. He then stepped back and gave her the once-over. He nodded.

"You are looking very good."

"I'm feeling very good," she replied, smiling. "Symmetrical again, less obscenely muscular now in this form, and only looking a bit buff as Sarah."

"I was very glad to get your call this morning," he told her, as he showed her to a chair. "Not just because I was relieved to hear you are better, either. Turns out my optimism about dealing with the new Novas was mistaken. So, we've missed you. On multiple levels."

"I missed Christmas and New Years," said Argent, with a sigh. "Hell, I missed three months! This is scarier than my eruption."

"Only because it's new," said Johnson, reassuringly. "Now that you know what to do, if you need to do it again the process should be easier and quicker."

"You don't know what happened," said Argent, seriously. "Once it started, I didn't move for the whole time. And I mean the entire three months. It was like a form of suspended animation. I was dimly aware of the world around me, and knew a lot of time was passing, but didn't want to do anything but continue to... I don't have a name for it, yet."

"That's... Yes, that is worrying," said Johnson, considering this information. "Even alarming. To be alone and vulnerable that whole time..."

"Once I came out of it, yesterday morning, I had a raging thirst and a ravening hunger," said Argent. "I could barely make myself wait long enough to flush the stale water from the pipes before drinking. Then I cleaned out my little office refrigerator. Drank a few gallons more. Peed for several minutes straight. Then raided the kitchen. I ate just about everything I had in the pantry. Which shouldn't even be physically possible."

"Unlike everything else you can do," said Johnson, with a smirk. "Look, it's understandable that this would disturb you. But it worked."

"Yeah," said Argent, reluctantly. She gave a short, sharp laugh. "Strangely, after all that I started feeling sleepy while watching the news. Slept for ten hours. Then woke at dawn, showered and went out for breakfast. A big one, but normal Nova big. Got back home, called in, and you know the rest."

"You do appear to have found a way to deal with Taint," said Johnson, pointedly.

"Yeah, but it's very time-consuming, and I doubt many Novas would have the temperament to follow my method. It's..." She gave an embarrassed laugh. "Well, it's too New-Age for most folks."

She gave him an impish grin.

"On the other hand, I can actually fly, now," she said, with a satisfied smile.

She lifted with apparent ease from her chair, hovered a moment, then gracefully returned to her seat.

"Still learning the ropes, but, boy, am I glad to be able to do it!"

"That is very impressive," said Johnson, smiling. "It might be moreso if one of the new recruits hadn't already demonstrated that faculty. But, yes, that will be very useful."

"When do I get to meet the newbies?"

"I'll make a formal announcement about your return later," said Johnson. "I'll introduce you to the new Novas after that. Even before that, though, I want you to get right to work on catching up. There's a pile of reports on your desk, and I'm sure Steve will be eager to help. However, there are a few things I want to go over with you first."

"I'm actually looking forward to working with other Novas," said Argent. "I'm also looking forward to testing myself in my gym. I definitely feel stronger."

"Uhm, there have been some changes with that," said Johnson. "Mostly repairs. The newbies got a bit enthusiastic. Still, all the basics are there. We even made some improvements, and added some new equipment. The first priority, though is this."

He pulled a manila folder from a drawer on his desk, opened it, looked at the first page, nodded, then pulled out the sheaf and began reading through it.

"Remember The Baron?"

"How could I forget?" said Argent, with a groan.

"He set himself up as ruler of a region of northwest Africa, in the Atlas mountains. Some Team Tomorrow Novas went after him, about a month after you left. Got their asses handed to them. He tore them to pieces. One gal almost died. Two others were so badly hurt they may be retired from active service. The Baron was also injured, enough that he hasn't been seen since. That was about a month and a half ago."

"I feel sorry for them," said Argent. She frowned. "Didn't they know he was dangerous, though, from the report about my encounter?"

"Well..." said Johnson, looking a bit uncomfortable. "From what I gather, they either didn't read your report or dismissed it. There was no actual mention of you in the news releases, or in the official action report released by Project Utopia. So far they haven't found the Baron. They've sent aid teams in to help the folks he was 'ruling' to recover."

He flipped to the next page.

"The Y2K Bug didn't cause nearly as much trouble as expected, in large part due to last minute efforts by Project Utopia to organize countermeasures. Or that's what the UN is claiming."

Another page went by. For the next hour and a half Johnson covered the high points of recent Nova-related history. Then he moved on to the new recruits. He pulled out another folder, and handed it to Argent. She opened it, and stared in surprise at the photo in front.

"That is Margaret Nagy, from Cleveland, who calls herself Bangle," said Johnson. "She has modest physical enhancements, can fly, and has sonic powers."

"Why in the world is she dressed like that?!" said Argent, scandalized.

"She also has exhibitionist tendencies," said Johnson, sourly. "Or maybe just likes to show off her new body. She was a middle-aged housewife when she Erupted. As you can see, she definitely does not currently look like a middle-aged housewife. Or a middle-aged anything else. I don't know if it counts as a power, but she is definitely more attractive, now. Her husband had her arrested for assault shortly after she got her powers. It appears to have been an accident which happened when she was testing her sound powers. He agreed to reduce the charges if she agreed to a divorce - his idea, but she accepted eagerly. She pled guilty, and was sentenced to community service. She is the one who actually suggested working with law enforcement for her sentence."

Argent sighed, shook her head and flipped to the next set of paperclipped pages.

"Another costume?!"

"That's Paul Harker, from Ashland, Kentucky. Calls himself Verdigris. He was a talented archer - won several competitions. He can now shoot - literally - the wings off a fly in flight at a hundred meters. He somehow automatically compensates for any irregularity in the bow or arrow, and even the slightest breath of wind. He got drunk one night and was showing off at a bar and caused several thousand dollars of property damage before anyone could stop him."

"I don't know what image he was aiming for, but he definitely missed that," said Argent, archly. "What's with these people and their weird outfits?"

"I thought you knew. The official reason is so that there will be no chance of anyone mistaking them for actual federal agents. In addition to that, there's a huge motivation to match or out-do Team Tomorrow."

"Wait. You mean they'll be dressed like this when they're working for us?!"

"We do have some say in how they dress, of course. Those costumes were designed for them by the same company which makes that special underwear you are so fond of. They got them in return for product endorsements. What they wear while with us will be similar, but much more... sedate. Unfortunately, what they wear in their off time..."

* * *

Argent was walking to the assembly when the division's "disguise expert" caught up with her.

"Babe, where have you been?" said Brian, joking on the surface but obviously also concerned. "Boss said you were on vacation, but you were gone for months!"

"Party. Laughing gas. Don't want to talk about it."

"Heading to meet the newbies, eh?" said Brian, realizing he wasn't going to get anything out of her just now. "They're a pair, all right. Much too full of themselves. Hope you can help reel them in."

"That's the general idea," said Argent, seriously.

Steve, Special Agent Johnson and the two newcomers were already there. As she entered the room Argent was reminded that she was still getting used to the improvements her hibernation had wrought. The effect was similar to the revelations she had experienced the first few days after her Eruption. She would look at something she had seen many times before, and now see much more in it. Previously, looking at something, she would get a good idea of its characteristics and history. Now she not only did this more quickly and accurately, but she saw things even her previous level of intellect would have missed without detailed study.

Just now, she was learning things about the two recruits. As Johnson introduced her, Argent remained quiet, barely saying anything. Her demeanor was not friendly; in fact, it was very serious. When Special Agent Johnson finished, she stood in front of the pair for several long seconds, making them increasingly uneasy.

"There are approximately thirteen hundred known Novas in the world today," said Argent, without preamble. "The number is expected to increase. How far it will increase is unknown."

The pair looked back and forth between each other, uncertainly. Johnson and Steve were also looking a bit confused. Brian was carefully straight-faced.

"A certain percentage of those Novas will be criminals," said Argent, after a short pause. "The best weapon against a Nova is another Nova. That is what you are here for."

Steve, followed shortly by Johnson, had a sudden look of revelation. Steve, to one side of and a bit behind the two new Novas, mouthed the words "Yes, Sergeant!" Brian, still blank of expression, nodded just a bit.

"You volunteered for this. If you think this will be easy or safe, you are sadly mistaken. I, personally, have been injured several times - some of them requiring hospitalization - over the past two years, and I am far tougher than both of you put together. I will do my best to give you training to help you in this task, but you should understand that you will almost certainly be put in actual, physical danger if you continue with this. If you want to reconsider, there is still time for you to choose another punishment."

They were looking stunned. Verdigris actually visibly swallowed. Neither said anything.

"Very good. I expect you to be at the gym tomorrow morning at ten. I've read what you can do, but I want to see it for myself, and test you in ways that others may not have thought of. Wear practical clothes. Dismissed!"

Verdigris actually almost saluted.

After they had left - rather quickly - Brian burst out laughing.

"I didn't know you were in the Marines!"

"Marines, Hell, try being a police cadet," said Argent, with a smirk.

"That might very well be the best tack to take with them," said Johnson, nodding.

"Could save their lives," said Steve, "you getting them to take things more seriously, right from the start."

* * *

Argent had told them ten AM so she could have a chance to get there before them. She wanted to see what had been done to the place while she was "out" as well as test herself.

Wearing her training gear, and with her hands taped, she did some warm-up exercises, then moved to her favorite piece of equipment: her heavy bag.

Argent readied herself, and gave the "punching boiler" a hard right jab. Then gaped at the hole it made in the far wall.

"Oh, shit!" she yelped, running after it.

The lead-filled boiler was still moving, rolling and skipping across the rough lot outside. Argent ran ahead of it and stopped it before it reached the property line. Fortunately, there had been nothing but a few weeds in the path of the juggernaut.

The thing was ruined. The old boiler - a cylinder roughly the size and shape of a small home water heater, but from the inside of an old residential steam heat system - had both bent and split. The split was not at a seam. The lead inside showed a deep dent, with knuckle prints in it.

Argent looked down at her hand. The tape had burst. Her skin wasn't even red.

"I'm going to need a better bag," she said, faintly.

Part Nineteen

He was resting, but alert. He of course sensed them approaching his hideout, his stronghold, his castle. They had no concept of his powers, of how he was aware of all that transpired within this, his place of power. He bestirred himself, preparing to discipline them for their ignorance and presumption. When they bothered to knock, though, he sat up, puzzled. While they had much material with them, neither was armed. As if they knew better than to apply mundane weapons against him. The Baron bade the doors open and lit the path to his lounge.

"Good afternoon," said one of the men. "We have a mutual enemy we would appreciate your help against, and we can help you against her."

"And who might this be?" said the Baron, appreciating that they got straight to the point.

"Argent," said the other man, in a tone which indeed spoke enmity.

"She is not my enemy," said the Baron. "She is merely a tool for one of my enemies."

"But a very potent tool," said the first man.

"I have no interest in petty vengeance," said the Baron.

"It's an opportunity for removing a tool of one of your enemies, then," said the second man. "We can provide inside information, set up the situation, so you can confront her."

The Baron considered. He was not yet fully recovered, but would not admit this. He also by no means wanted to give the impression he was reluctant to confront this woman again. So, how to turn them down gracefully? A moment of thought, and he had it.

"I am not interested," he said. "However, I can recommend someone - an acquaintance of mine - who has a much more mercenary personality. She is rather formidable and can be quite violent when she desires."

The two men glanced at each other, then nodded.

"Yes, please. That would be very helpful."

* * *

"The Dow just keeps climbing," said Steve, shaking his head as he read his daily paper. "It's gotta stop sometime."

"We're about due for another readjustment," said Sarah. "Twenty-two year cycle and all that. Probably probably not for five to ten years, though. Just keep an eye out and when things start to go weird, cash in while you can. Besides my own investments, I've been managing Andy's money, and a lot of it is with a very good broker."

"That's right," said Steve, nodding. "You have his power of attorney. As Sarah, I mean."

"Well, I probably helped trigger his Eruption," said Sarah, a bit uncomfortably. "He doesn't have any close relatives in this area. Or at all, except for his father. Since my own investments are doing so well, the Kaders asked me to help with the money from his mother's insurance and property sales. They've even started using the same broker."

"He got room for another?" said Steve, folding his paper as they approached their destination. "All that financial stuff confuses me."

Argent - or Sarah - still drove when they went somewhere together, even though she had long graduated from rookie status. With her reflexes, that was a given. This time, though, they were in Steve's own car, and off duty for the weekend.

They stopped outside Andy's foster home. These people were not adopting him; unable to have children of their own and both from large families, they had instead fostered more than a dozen boys and girls over the course of two decades. In the past eight years they had started specializing in "problem" and "difficult" children. Andy, unfortunately, fit in both categories.

"Thank you for coming with me," said Sarah, looking over at her partner. "I really appreciate it. I always feel awkward coming here by myself, and Andy likes you."

"Hey, I like him. Besides, it's a free meal. And a Sunday lunch, at that. With Carol out of town, I was tired of eating out and afraid to cook anything more complicated than a bowl of cold cereal."

Mr. and Mrs. Kader had actually found Andy Sullivan to be a big help. While there were problems with his size and strength - and his propensity for going weeks without sleep - he was a good boy and well-mannered, and often helped with those who were neither. Argent had visited here several times before her "big sleep" and found the household warm and welcoming. She'd even had Thanksgiving dinner with them, not long before her hibernation.

"Nice," said Steve, looking around appreciatively as Mrs. Kader escorted them inside.

Andy was waiting for them. Despite the obvious affection between them and the boy's eagerness, his greeting of Sarah was sedate. Comparatively. The hug he gave her would have warped an engine block.

"Mrs. Kader, I think Andy and I are going outside to have a talk," said Sarah.

"I think that's a very good idea."

There was a wooded area not far away. Perfect for talking. Andy started before they were even halfway there.

"You didn't come around for months!" the boy whined.

"Andy, I'm very sorry, but I couldn't help it," said Sarah, giving him another - one-armed this time - hug as they walked. "Something happened. I've told you that my job sometimes means me being away. I missed a lot of other things, too. I'll tell you about what happened with me later, but for now I still need to catch up. Why don't you tell me what's been happening, to you and the world?"

This was mostly to give him something besides her absence to talk about... and think about. Still, he knew things which she didn't, and not just personal things. Andy had embraced the Internet, where he could interact with people as a thirteen year old boy and not a superhuman Nova.

* * *

"You can't help but wonder what it's like," said Mr. Kader, peering over his half glasses at Steve as they set the large table. "Being able to bend steel in your bare hands."

"Oh, I wonder, all right," said Steve. He smirked. "Argent - I mean Sarah - tells me it's like bending a piece of lead, only noisier."

"She's good for him," said Mrs. Kader, bringing in the next load of plates and silverware. "It's good for him to have an adult with similar abilities, so he doesn't feel so alone. There's a real mother-son connection, there."

Steve gave her a discrete look as she put the items on the table. He'd noticed that, himself, but not said anything. He wasn't surprised these two had noticed.

"Did you know that there's no verified case of anyone fathering or giving birth to a child since they Erupted?" said Steve.

"I'd heard that," said Mrs. Kader. She looked up at Steve, and smiled in a cunning way. "You don't have to father a child or give birth to be a parent. Trust me on this."

* * *

Lunch was long over. Most of the children were busy with homework. Andy was sitting with the adults in the den, while Sarah described her "vacation."

"That's pretty much it," said Sarah, finally. She looked at Andy. "You remember how Dr. Mazarin told us about his work with meditative techniques to help Novas control dangerous powers."

"Yeah," said Andy, nodding thoughtfully. "I use some of 'em to help me not break things."

"Well, after coming out of my trance I called him and told him what I just told you folks. He was very interested, and planned to test my method for dealing with Taint on some other Novas."

"Do you think it could help me with... this?" said Andy, indicating his form.

"Hon, I don't know. I told you - and the Kaders - about this so you could try it if you want."

"Thanks," said Andy, quietly.

Sarah started to say something, but both her and Steve's cell phones picked that moment to start clamoring for attention.

Sarah gave hers a quick glance and grimaced.

"Sorry. It's work."

The two FBI agents answered their phones, and listened for several minutes, occasionally acknowledging something. Then they hung up.

"Andy, I'm really sorry, but there's an emergency. Some Nova is causing trouble at Kings Island. A lot of people could get hurt if we don't get there quick."

"Sure," said Andy, nodding and smiling. "Just don't stay away so long this time."

"Promise," said Sarah, smiling and briefly taking his hand.

* * *

Due to the urgency and the distance, Sarah shifted to Argent and flew straight there while Steve drove his car. To help her navigate while flying, Johnson had sprung for a new gadget, a compact GPS unit. Functional and rugged, it fit neatly in a jacket pocket. Argent's sustained top speed wasn't much faster than a car traveling Code 3, but she could head straight there. She just hoped she got there before either of the newbies. Even after months of training, she didn't think they were ready for a major confrontation. Of course, few Nova problems weren't major.

One of the things Argent had learned to look for when approaching a Nova call scene was smoke. Well, some sort of pall; it might be smoke, it might be dust, it might be fog, it had once been a direct power effect, some sort of wide-area force field. As she approached the theme park, Argent saw a lot of smoke. There were several small plumes, and one big one. That last appeared to be coming from concession stands around the base of the Eiffel Tower replica.

Park security and State Police were already on the scene, but holding back. Argent found what looked to be an impromptu command center and headed down. She made sure her badge was out and visible. In spite of that precaution several of the spooked men and women in the area started tracking her with guns. Argent didn't blame them. They couldn't see her clearly, or her badge at all, until she was almost on the ground.

"Argent, FBI," she said, loudly and clearly, as she touched down.

"Over here!" someone called, from the back of a van, gesturing to her.

Argent walked quickly to the rear doors of the vehicle, conscious that every eye was on her. She was relieved to climb inside.

"Captain Wooten, Ohio Highway Patrol," said the man who had beckoned her over, offering his hand.

"What's the situation?" said Argent, as they briefly shook.

The van turned out to be full of TV monitors and computers, all dedicated to monitoring the park. Argent could see a woman in an odd, white costume, walking around the base of the tower, occasionally raising a hand to hurl a bolt of flame at something.

"She just stepped into the middle of a street, struck a dramatic pose, burned her clothes off to reveal that costume, and started destroying things. The security folks here had the good sense to focus on getting people out of the area and keeping tabs on her, instead of confronting her. No injuries, so far."

"No demands, no speeches?"

"She's hardly said a word," said Wooten. "Mostly told people to get out before they got hurt."

"So she's after property damage, not hurting people," said Argent, frowning. "If it were personal she'd have been spouting off about why. Someone is paying her. Only not just to damage property, or she would have already finished and left."

"That's pretty much what we thought."

"Well, we can figure out why later," said Argent, with a determined expression. "The thing to do now is stop her."

"What do you want us to do?"

"If you have heavy weapons, get them ready," said Argent. "I'll go in and try to get her to surrender. If she gets away from me you need to stop her. Oh, I have teammates on the way. If they show up give them a briefing."

With Wooten escorting her, Argent exited the wagon and headed to the barricades. These had wisely been placed well back from where the woman was roaming. Wooten had the people there open the barricade, and Argent continued forward alone. Walking along the quiet, empty park street was an eerie experience, made more surreal by the flashing lights the emergency vehicles behind her cast on the building walls. She smelled smoke, and hot metal, and could hear fires crackling in the distance.

Argent entered the open area around the base of the tower, and was quickly spotted by the woman. Her expression wasn't one of surprise, or wariness, but of satisfaction. She shifted into a more aggressive stance, suddenly purposeful.

She was expecting me, Argent realized. No, she's here for me!

The woman literally burst into flame; she raised her hands, and a blast of blue-white fire rocketed towards the FBI agent. Argent, alerted, swatted the Quantum bolt aside and charged forward at full speed.

That, at least, surprised her. Argent, realizing now that this woman intended to kill her, punched with full strength. The woman dodged, but not completely. Argent's fist struck the fiery shell around her a glancing blow, knocking her off balance. The woman staggered, desperately trying to get her feet back under her as Argent lunged in pursuit, swinging again.

The woman had obviously not expected this level of aggression, or this level of power. She was Mega-fast and -agile, but not a match for Argent. For several seconds she fought a desperately defensive battle, before finally getting enough room to abruptly leap into the air.

She flew high enough to be able to dodge if Argent leapt at her, then hovered, looking for her target.

"You might as well come out," she said, in good English but with a heavy Italian accent. "I am Fuoco. My family has been in the business of killing for centuries, and we are very good at it."

Nothing. Fuoco shifted position, slowly, looking for her target. Her voice took on a taunting tone.

"Do you really think this cowardice is becoming? I have no concern against destroying this entire playground."

Something moved, to her right. She whipped around and blasted. She realized, just as the bolt left her hand, that her target was a decorative wooden wheel off a concession wagon, rolling down the street. Fuoco snarled at the smoking hole her bolt had left in the pavement. Then spun in the air as she heard something. There! Argent, leaping towards her!

She flew unhurriedly aside from the other woman's ballistic path, raised her arms and fired... and gaped as Argent dodged. The FBI agent curved back towards the hitwoman. Fuoco was tackled in mid-air, momentarily stunned.

Argent smiled, even though contact with that heat shield was burning away her clothing and giving her blisters. The woman hadn't known she could fly! Argent forced her down towards an empty, paved area. She could hear the ammunition in her gun going off, and the batteries in her cell phone and GPS unit. Then they hit.

Argent had expected the impact. She hadn't expected an accompanying explosion. She lost her grip and was blown away from the landing site. She recovered in the air and dropped to the pavement nearby in a crouch. Had something in the ground blown up? Or was that part of Fuoco's power? She waited for a few seconds, but heard nothing. Had she knocked the assassin out? Perhaps even killed her?

Warily, Argent stood. She could see most of the hole, now. Enough to see that it went into some sort of tunnel. Swearing, Argent moved closer, and listened. There was a faint sound of splashing, from the east.

Argent dashed down the street in that direction until she found a manhole. She put her ear against the small hole in the cover and listened. When she felt that Fuoco was directly under her she abruptly yanked the cover off and dove down the hole.

Part Twenty

The security personnel and LEOs hadn't known what to expect when Argent confronted the strange woman. The suddenness and extremity of the attack against Argent, her abrupt response, the quickness of the following fight, and the combatants disappearing underground, had all taken them by surprise. The radio waves were filled with alarmed - even panicked - calls.

"We got massive explosions!" one cop yelled over his radio. "Fire coming out of manholes all up and down the street!"

The battle actually registered on several seismographs. Fuoco had made a mistake, going into the tunnel. She was a much better flyer than the FBI agent, and could have simply outflown her, whereas Argent's parkour training allowed her to bounce around inside the concrete tunnel like some demented ball. Fuoco countered by generating more of those radial explosions, but in the confines of the tunnel those hurt her more than they did Argent. Argent's attacks hurt her more than that. Additionally, Argent's heightened perceptions were resistant to such overloads, and gave her an advantage in the dark tunnel.

Only a few seconds passed, but for two combatants who both had more than human speed that meant a great deal of damage was done. Fortunately, the tunnel was for park personnel to discretely move around, and not utilities. After those few seconds were over, there were a few more of intense silence. Then Fuoco was tossed limply out of a manhole onto the pavement, Argent climbing out after her. The FBI agent wavered a bit, which didn't surprise the onlookers. Not only was all her clothing burned away, except for a few wires of her sport bra, but her skin was also an angry red over most of her body. Her hair was nearly all gone, as well.

State troopers moved in, followed by park security. Then came the emergency services personnel. Some to put out the fires raging in various buildings, many of them newly ignited by that last, furious exchange. Some to tend the injured. Those included Fuoco and Argent. An ambulance screeched to a stop near the pair of Novas. Two men jumped out, one for each woman.

"Naked, again," said Argent, disgusted, more upset by that than her wounds. She glanced down at her prisoner. "What's her costume made of, anyway? It's not only not burned, it's hardly damaged!"

"I think you're in shock," said the somewhat cowed EMT who was checking Argent. "Please, come over here and sit down. I've got a blanket for you."

That finally reached her. She walked over to the back of the ambulance and sat. He put a blanket around her and continued working.

"Yeah, you're going to the hospital," he said. "It's almost entirely first degree burns, but they're all over. You need more than Bactine."

"Sure," said Argent, amiably. "How's she?"

"Forget about her," said the EMT. "You worry about yourself. We've got more ambulances coming in. You're ready to go now. Climb in here and as soon as someone can take over for Paul we'll get going."

* * *

"Unbelievable," said the first man, as he skimmed through the report. "From our tests, I was certain Fuoco would at least hold her own. To lose in under a minute..."

"What's a minute to someone like them?" said the second man. "According to our tests, she was at least three times as fast as a human. Argent must be close to that."

"There are no details on her condition," said their supervisor. "What are the odds she'll die of her injuries?"

"Not good," said the second man.

"Do you know how many Novas who have survived to reach a hospital have then died of the injuries which sent them there?" said the first man. "None."

"Fuoco survived, too," said the second. "Given the way Novas heal, they'll both be back in action in weeks at the most."

"So," said their supervisor, sourly. He sighed. "We need to rethink our strategy. Not just for Argent, but all Novas. This... they're appearing far faster than we could eliminate them in even our most favorable projections. No. We need another way besides direct assault."

"I repeat my recommendation of involving as many as possible in military actions," said the second man. "Very few Novas can withstand something like an RPG. We know of none who have survived a direct hit from even a small mortar round."

"Your recommendation has been previously noted," said their supervisor, frostily. "We are pursuing that course, but it is also too slow. No, we need something else."

"For overt actions, I suggest arranging for attacks on Novas through several known hate groups," said the first man. "The KKK, some southern old-boy networks, some of the more extreme political conservatives. Religious conservatives, too, especially Moslem ones."

"Not bad," said the supervisor, nodding. "We can work that angle either through subtle encouragement or in their name without their knowledge. No, we use both, in parallel. I like it."

"We could work the same scam from the other direction," said the second man, excitedly. "We know there are Novas - individuals and small groups - who would like to take action against certain politicians or organizations."

"Excellent! Yes, this is more like it! We should definitely pursue both options. I'll put it before the board, but you two go ahead and start planning operations. Just don't actually do anything until we get clearance."

* * *

"Ugh. Remind me of this hospital stay if I ever start feeling invincible," said Argent. "I admit I was more than a bit cocky with my increase in power after my trance. This has definitely knocked the smug out of me."

Steve found her swathed in bandages. What little skin was visible was greasy with ointment. Despite all that, the most striking thing about her appearance was the complete lack of hair. Still, she didn't look very hurt.

"The good news is you're healing so fast they expect to discharge you in another day or two. The bad news is that when you punched that flame bolt - How did you do that, anyway? - you almost hit a news helicopter. The studio is threatening to sue."

"Bastards," Argent muttered, as Steve pulled a chair around and sat. "Policy is to clear the air when there's a flying Nova criminal in the area. They ignored the order, nearly got hurt, and are blaming us."

"Anyway, turns out no-one else heard what that woman said to you," said Steve, grinning. "So it's a good thing you survived to tell us. Otherwise, we wouldn't have known her life history."

"It's bad enough they cause trouble and then fight us when we go to stop them," said Argent, sourly. "Why do they have to tell us their life stories in the process?"

"The best explanation that I've heard," said Steve, straightfaced, "is that Novas generate exposition particles."

Argent had to laugh at that.

"Seriously, though, how did you punch a bolt of flame?"

"Seriously? I'm not sure. It was a spur of the moment thing, and I was surprised afterwards that it worked."

"Her costume turned out to be made of woven ceramic fiber fabric," said Steve. "Stuff is normally used for things like aircraft firewalls."

"Huh. Never heard of that before."

"Oh!" said Steve. "Almost forgot. Just before I left the office to come here Johnson told me that Project Utopia is express shipping some of that new drug - adrenalin-something - here to help keep your prisoner under control."

"Adrenocilin," said Argent, nodding. "I've read about that. Doesn't dampen powers but in large doses makes them harder to access. Good. What happened at the park after I left?"

"I got there about the same time Bangle did," said Steve. "Which was about half an hour after you were already gone. We got stuck with cleanup and public relations. Turns out that Bangle is very good with the Press. Poor Verdigris never made it. Bangle couldn't carry him, and Johnson said that given how long it would take to get him there by road he should stay in Cincinnati in case something else happened."

"If we're going to be regional, we need better transport," said Argent, with a sigh.

"Or wider dispersion."

"What?" said Argent, reading something in his voice, his posture.

"The word has come down. As soon as the FBI gets some more Novas I'll be transferred to the Cleveland office and put in charge of another Nova unit there. As preparation for that, I'm going to be working with Verdigris and Bangle, while you will get a new partner."

"How does Carol feel about moving to Cleveland?"

"How do you feel about working with another partner?"

"I asked you first," said Argent, raising an eyebrow.

"She's from Cleveland. Left during some of the worst of the stupidity. Things are better today, so she's okay with it. Your turn."

"Well, I'll miss working with you, but you will still be in the Cincinnati office for a while so even with a new partner we'll most likely still work with each other a few times before you leave."

"The courts have finally decided that the time spent in training also counts against the community service," said Steve. "Which means the brass is pressuring us to get some use out of Bangle and Verdigris soon."

"After what happened to me this time, I bet they're not as anxious as they were to get their hands dirty," said Argent, with a wry smile.

* * *

George Shevinski was younger than Steve, but he still had over ten years with the Bureau.

Junior partner again, thought Argent, as Johnson made the announcement.

"This change comes at a busy time for us," the Special Agent continued. "It's not in the news, yet, but in just over three weeks we will be participating in providing security for presidential candidate Robert Schroer, who will be holding a rally here in Cincinnati."

That caused a stir among the assembled FBI agents. Johnson waited for the buzz to die down.

"Naturally, you are not to tell anyone about this before the news is released through public channels. Meanwhile, I expect everyone to participate in the additional training needed to prepare for this."

"Isn't that a job for the Secret Service?" said Argent, later, when she, Steve, George and the rest of the Nova team got together to discuss the details with Special Agent Johnson.

"They will handle primary security," said Johnson, "but we, along with the state police and local law enforcement, are helping."

Argent nodded, and glanced over at Bangle, Verdigris and Brian. She scowled at the other woman.

"Must be cold in here," Argent muttered, looking pointedly at Bangle's chest.

"Yes, Bangle," said Johnson, "about your outfit..."

"Like it? I had it custom designed."

"You can't wear it on the job. I let you folks have some leeway, but that..."

"Hey, she gets to flaunt her bare bod, and she's got nothin' on me!" said Bangle, jabbing a finger towards Argent and Oomph!ing her own shoulders back.

"Rule of perversity," said George, with a grin. "The modest one keeps getting her clothes blown off. The exhibitionist doesn't."

"I am not an exhibitionist! Listen, I spent fifty-six years as a mousy little nobody! Don't begrudge me a chance to show off now that I've got somethin' to show off!"

"You can show it off... just not when you're on the clock." Johnson thumped the bottom edges of the manilla folders he was holding on the top of his desk for emphasis. "Wear something more respectable on duty or leave."

"Wait... You mean you'd kick me out just for wearing this?!"

"While strictly speaking you're not a member of the FBI you will be closely associated with us on this job. Government employees have some pretty strict rules about proper attire."

"Verdigris shows more skin than I do!"

"At least my nipples are covered!" said Verdigris.

"My nipples are covered!"

"With makeup!"

"My God," groaned Argent. "Don't either of you have any sense of professionalism?! You sound like twelve year olds."

"Enough!! Part of the reason for this meeting is to discuss appropriate dress. Verdigris is next on the list."

Johnson did a good job of laying down the law, not only on dress but training. There was some objection from the two newer Novas, since both were eager to show what they could do on an actual mission and not use up all their time on practice they didn't think they needed. Johnson - supported by the other FBI personnel in the room - was firm.

"Look at me," said Argent, gesturing at her head. "I'm still growing back my hair. Trust me, the more training you get the better for all of us. Specifically, we have to act as a team while on the job."

"Here are the general assignments for the security assignemnt," said Johnson, handing out folders. "Brian - excuse me, Morphologist - you will be on standby at the site in case we need someone to look like someone else. For example, to draw out a sniper we can't find, you could change Argent long enough. Bangle, because you can use your sonic shield to protect others, you'll be on the ground near the candidate and his staff. You will be backstage when he is actually speaking. Verdigris, you'll be at a high vantage whenever Schroer is in public. You will be acting as sharpshooter. You will not shoot unless and until ordered! We will have professional observers and both FBI and CIA sharpshooters working with you. Argent will be held in reserve in case of problems from a physically resistant Nova, as well as other scenarios."

"What besides a Nova would we need her for?" said George.

"Non-Novas in heavy body armor," said Johnson. "Like those North Hollywood bank robbers, three years ago."

"Ow. Yeah."

"You Novas will work with both Argent and your supervisors to develop the appropriate tactics and practice them until you have them down pat."

"Yes, sir!" said Argent, Steve and George, the others following just a bit after.

Part Twenty-One

Sarah mingled. She was enjoying herself, but the situation felt a bit unreal. Here she was, on the job, but in her original form. Also, the job involved schmoozing with political bigwigs, their aids, and hangers-on at an upscale party which was part of a political rally, while helping with security. With the clothes Johnson had sprung for, the blond, stacked Sarah was definitely getting invited places FBI agent Argent wouldn't have been. She hadn't flirted and flaunted at a party so much since college. Even then she hadn't done it often, afraid of catering to the ditzy blond stereotype. Here she was playing to it, to lull suspicions.

Though Noon was only a couple of hours past, there were people here who were already drunk. The rich, the powerful and the influential apparently felt little concern for propriety at what was essentially a giant closed party. The Press was here, yes, but they were part of it, indulging as much as the politicians. From what Sarah gathered there was an unspoken agreement that unless some unstated but specific line was crossed all escapades would be glossed over. She had been quietly but firmly told by the Secret Service liaison with the FBI not to report anyone trying to solicit her. That grated, but she could see the reason.

Sarah did discretely rescue a couple of distressed female interns mistaken for part of the "entertainment" by some middle-aged "gentlemen." For one of these situations she'd had to actually get rough with the man, attracting the ire of a thug who turned out to be his bodyguard. Sarah had dropped her "party girl" attitude and pulled her badge on the muscle, who had reversed course so quickly he'd left heel marks on the polished tile floor.

Nasty business, of course, but nothing out of the ordinary for any large gathering of people wheeling and dealing. No sign of anything Nova related. So far. However, she was feeling rather disillusioned about the political process.

Sarah wandered out of the back rooms and into the main hall for a breath of fresh air and some food. The rally wouldn't start for hours, yet, but many guests were welcome early. There were even other Novas here. At a heavily-laden table she encountered a couple in costumes.

The man - who went by Hot Shoe - was a secondary member of Team Tomorrow. The woman was Meltdown, a hired superhero for Denver, what the Press had dubbed a Municipal Defender. Typical of Novas - especially around free food - they were preparing to chow down. Sarah felt the slight buzz of their Quantum, and noticed the woman give her a puzzled look. Sarah just smiled, greeted the pair pleasantly, and began loading a plate the same way they were.

Plate in hand, she wandered around as she ate. She noticed the two she had met at the buffet heading for a table with several other costumed figures. Sarah stiffened when she saw that one of them was Bangle... then relaxed when she realized that Schroer was at the next table, and that Bangle was positioned to keep a discrete eye on him. It was a circumstance where she could do her job of guarding him while attracting little attention to herself, and that would be on her as a Nova guest, and not someone in a colorful costume hanging around the candidate.

Maybe she's competent, after all, thought Sarah. More likely, someone suggested it to her.

Bangle looked around and noticed Sarah. Who started to respond, then remembered that Bangle only knew Argent. Sarah gave her a vapid smile and walked on, leaving Bangle looking a bit puzzled. At least she was paying attention, including to her Quantum sense. That someone could detect Sarah's presence - and status as a Nova - in that way made her a bit uneasy, but so far it was an ability only possessed by Novas, and not all of them. Sarah dropped her empty plate in a trash can, feeling comfortably full.

I could get used to this. Free food, rich, handsome men looking for a hookup - and some women, too - and I get to look pretty. I can definitely see why some Novas go the bodyguard route.

She was also learning stuff about the world, and the way it worked. At least, the way these people thought it worked. Additionally, Sarah was getting a chance to learn directly how someone she might vote for talked to people whose support he wanted. Part of her job was to keep an eye on Schroer, but she also was interested in trying to hear what he had to say about various things. Especially away from reporters. Sarah moved in a seemingly random pattern around the convention hall floor. A pattern which brought her back in proximity with the candidate every few minutes. Without appearing to pay him any particular attention, she was able to overhear snatches of conversation. Most were pretty innocuous, but one caught her attention.

"With Castro dead Cuba should open up to the world," said Schroer. "That will leave only China as a Communist nation. They are eagerly learning the benefits of capitalism."

"Now that would be a good opportunity," said a man perhaps in his mid-thirties. He seemed eager, and greedy. "Offer aid to Cuba, but let whoever winds up in charge know it will only come if they let..."

"No, no, no!" said an older man Sarah recognized as one of Schroer's advisors. He was obviously aggravated. "That's how we lost Cuba in the first place. You know they'd just tell the Press about the strings. No. We offer aid, no strings. Tailor it to benefit the general population as much as possible. The more money the people have, the more influence they'll have, and the more they'll want our goods."

The younger man scowled, but Schroer nodded.

"We could be on the verge of a new golden age," he said, eyes distant and voice so low Sarah could only hear him thanks to her keen hearing. "We're not going to screw this up."

Maybe I will vote for him, thought Sarah.

* * *

As sundown - and the beginning of the actual rally - approached, Sarah took a break in a room reserved for feds. She had to show her badge three times to get in, which she figured was about right. Once in the lounge she dropped into a chair with an exaggerated sigh and gratefully pulled her shoes off.

"Thought you were invulnerable," said Brian, sitting beside her.

"Oh, no, you discovered my secret weakness!" said Sarah, grinning. "How are things going? I can't wear an earpiece out there."

"Pretty good. There have been a few minor incidents - I believe you were involved in some of them - but folks who have worked these soirées before tell me things are going unusually well."

"At least you won't be asked to work the whole convention," said Sarah. "Me, I slept just two days ago, so I'll be here the whole time."

"I thought it was over at eleven," said Brian, puzzled.

"The official events. Start-up and tear-down take another day on either side of that. Tonight... there are parties."

"Ow," said Brian, though he matched her grin. "Well, you have my sympathy. As for me, I'll be happily in bed around one."

Sarah noticed nearly everyone in the room go tense, some reaching reflexively to their earpieces. Her purse was discretely vibrating. Given her reflexes she got her radio out in time to hear most of the alert. She shifted to Argent as she put the radio to her ear.

"...ova apparently drunk and insisting on talking to Schroer. Not offering violence but pushing past security and not stopping."

Argent switched frequencies to the one reserved for Nova Operations.

"This is Argent. Is Bangle still near Schroer?"

"Yes," said Johnson. "But out of sight."

"Have her move into sight, between him and the Nova. I'll be there in seconds."

"Good idea."

"Just how much did he have to drink to affect a Nova?" said Brian, as Argent jumped up.

She didn't answer. She didn't need to, really. He knew as well as she did that while nearly all Novas had heightened metabolisms that unless they had Mega-Stamina or some other power which made them resistant to drugs they could still get drunk. That took more effort for a Nova than most Baselines, but with all the free booze being plied...

As soon as she was back in the main hall Argent jumped to get a good start, then flew to where Schroer was gladhanding potential backers. She winced as her clothing threatened to slide off Argent's less curvy frame - despite the fact that her clothes changed to fit whichever form she was in - and frantically tugged things back into place. Bangle had moved into position as instructed, and was definitely attracting the Nova's attention. Schroer had noticed the situation, but wasn't letting it distract him as he worked his trade.

Argent recognized the Nova causing the problem. He went by Gorod, the name of a Slavic town where one of his grandparents had been born. He was a celebrity type, famous for socializing as a Nova and not much else. He wasn't looking very drunk. Security was trailing behind him at a safe distance, not trying to stop him. As Argent looked for a place to land she saw him spot Bangle. He did a literal double-take, and changed course slightly, also picking up speed.

Argent dropped down on the other side of a planter full of everything from moss to small palm trees. She disturbed a couple making out, but didn't care. She shifted back to Sarah as she came around the end of the planter, barely getting her top in place before coming into view. Bangle was trying to act tough and authoritative with the guy, which was the wrong approach. He was simply growing more belligerent. No surprise; he wanted either to talk to Schroer or flirt with Bangle, and she was preventing both.

"There you are!" said Sarah, cheerfully, as she sidled up to Gorod and took his arm. She could smell the alcohol on him, and this close could tell he was definitely tipsy. "You left before I could introduce you."

"Huh?" said the Nova.

"Come on! You don't want to keep them waiting!"

Bangle was gaping in pure befuddlement, but several of the other security people took her cue. They discretely followed the odd pair - the cheerfully gabbing buxom blond and the towering, confused Nova - and helped Sarah steer the man from place to place in the hall, keeping him away from alcohol for the twenty minutes or so his Nova metabolism needed to sober him a bit. He spent most of the time looking down Sarah's cleavage. His hands also went places where they weren't invited.

The things I do for this job, thought Sarah. Though if this hadn't been in the line of duty she might have enjoyed the situation. It had been a long time...

Sarah left him sitting in a quiet corner with a heaping plate of food, looking confused. Several of the plainclothes feds remained, discretely watching him.

Fortunately, that was the only time that night there was any Nova-related trouble. Schroer's speech - indeed, the entire rally - went smoothly. Cleanup the next day was also peaceful, and the candidate was seen safely off to his next stop.

* * *

The debriefing on the day following Schroer's departure was in two phases: General in the morning, with all FBI participants from the operation there, then Nova-related after lunch, with only the division's special team and Johnson present. The first one was pretty routine, with some minor problems pointed out and a few people specifically commended, and a "well done" for all. After lunch was a different matter, and much less formal.

"Naturally, the one time I go jumping around in a dress it's in a place where thousands of people can look up at me."

"That was you?!" said Bangle. "You looked different!"

"Nobody was looking up," said Steve, following Argent's lead in ignoring Bangle's revelation. "Those who weren't focused on that guy heading for Schroer were busy doing business or making passes or trying to get away from people making passes."

"You used me as a distraction!" said Bangle.

"And you did an excellent job," said Argent.

"I could have taken him!"

Argent just stared at her.

"Bangle," said Johnson, realizing she didn't get it, "you weren't there to 'take' anyone. Your job was to protect Schroer. Avoiding a confrontation was far better than having a fight - especially a Nova fight - right there with the man you were supposed to protect."

She actually pouted.

"Hey, you got more action than I did," said Verdigris. "I didn't even get the free food. Liked to starve..."

"I actually got to do some stuff," said Brian, happily. "Changed three people to double for someone, for various reasons."

"Overall, I am both pleased with and proud of my little group," said Johnson, smiling. "None of you know everything which went on, but all of you contributed to keeping things quiet and safe. Thank you."

They preened a bit, but Argent wasn't the only one anticipating a "However."

"However... Bangle, except for the way you confronted Gorod you behaved in a very professional manner. You didn't do anything wrong, and you avoided starting a fight, you just didn't handle the situation as well as you could have. That wasn't really your fault. You haven't been trained for this type of operation. I don't know if you will ever be; your sentence should be up in another month and a bit.

"Which leads to the next order of business. I have been told that Novas who complete their LEO community service in a satisfactory manner may apply for permanent employment after that ends and a board reviews their performance."

"Hoo!" said Verdigris, actually raising his arms.

"Great," said Bangle, grinning. "Maybe I'll get some action yet."

Johnson's phone rang; he excused himself to answer it. The conversation was short and serious. When it was over, he looked grim, almost sick.

"There have been attacks on three of the Novas who were guests at the rally. Gorod is dead - along with several others - from a bomb. Meltdown and Hot Shoe are both injured - Meltdown critically. There are over a dozen bystanders dead from the attack on them. A group calling itself Human Politics for Humans Only is taking credit."

Part Twenty-Two

A few days after the rally, orders came down to split up the four Novas, putting them in separate teams. That made sense for Argent and even the Morphologist. He didn't have any superhuman powers beyond his shapechanging, but could use that to mimic other powers. However, Verdigris and Bangle were not only being sent out without Nova supervision, but under supervision of partners who also had little experience with Nova operations. Without either Steve or George, the two non-Nova FBI agents who had the most experience working with Novas, they could cause - or get into - serious trouble. Argent wondered if some manager type thought all members of the group were Novas...

"Sorry, folks, but my hands are tied," said Johnson, tiredly. "This is from not only from the top of the Bureau, but from the President, himself. He doesn't want any opportunity for accusations that his administration isn't going all out to find the killers."

"I find it a little odd that all three of those Novas just happened to decide to stay in Cincinnati an extra day," said Argent. "Especially since they appear to have been the only ones targeted. No-one who left has had any troubles, and no-one who stayed who wasn't a Nova got hurt, except for the few who were with Gorod, Meltdown and Hot Shoe."

"No coincidence involved," said Johnson. "All three received phone calls purportedly from the Mayor's office asking them to stay. Each invitation was tailored to the particular Nova. Gorod was told there was a large party of horse farm owners who wanted him to attend. Hot Shoe was told the mayor wanted to talk to him about a law enforcement matter. Meltdown received a job offer."

"Someone is targeting Novas," said Steve, nodding.

"Not just any Novas. Those three in particular, because of their attendance at the rally."

"But... No." Argent scowled in thought. "Even if their attendance wasn't politically motivated - and I'm pretty sure it was - this group would see it as being so. I'm surprised Bangle wasn't targeted, as well. She's known to be working with the FBI."

"Yeah, but that's the first time I've been in public in my costume," she pointed out. "My real name didn't make the papers. Whoever did this doesn't even know who I am."

"We'll be spreading our forces thin," said Johnson. "So I want you all to be extra careful. If this is a plot by an anti-Nova group, they could be prepared to kill Novas."

That, finally, seemed to get through to Bangle, who actually stopped grinning.

"All right. You have your assignments. Get to work."

* * *

The next few days were frantic and often dangerous. Working with several other federal, state and local LEOs the Cincinnati FBI Nova team members participated in raids, hunted down clues and captured dozens of known hate-group members. All denied any knowledge of the attacks. No evidence connecting them to those acts was found.

Human Politics for Humans Only had a history, but a minor, almost trivial one. Their activities had been confined to threatening letters and phone calls. Analysts had previously pegged them as a very small group, perhaps even a lone individual. The bombings, though, would have required at least half a dozen people working in the field, and probably twice that.

One good thing about this affair; they were rounding up people who desperately needed to be in jail. A number of suspects - including several involved in the GBLT bombing several months earlier - had been allowed to remain free due to ongoing investigations. This despite evidence they were continuing to plot and plan and even take actions to hurt people. Now, they were being arrested in droves. People working numerous cases were screaming about having their work ruined, and they had a point. Some of these people might go free, the charges against them thrown out due to these impromptu arrests. For now, though, they were all where they couldn't hurt anyone.

Argent was distressed by just how many evil people were running around loose. She had long disagreed with policies which saw non-violent criminals put in prison for drug offenses while people who were known to have killed, raped and maimed were given a lower priority. At least here and for a while, things were reversed. The crime rate was already dropping.

Argent was so busy during all this that she didn't see any other members of the Nova task force for almost a week. Then it was just Bangle. Who looked tired. As well as a bit daunted. Argent ran into her in the break room of the FBI's offices while grabbing a snack after a debriefing.

"I hear you finally got some 'action,'" said Argent, watching the other Nova.

"Yeah," said Bangle, quietly, her posture, tone and expression speaking volumes. "I almost killed a guy. He was shooting at me and I zapped him harder than I should have."

She looked as if she was about to say something more, then decided against it. Argent suspected that the realities of law enforcement work were proving more harrowing than Bangle had expected. However, as they continued to talk, some of her accustomed impishness resurfaced. They chatted about random things for a few minutes.

"The bombings and what Schroer has said and done about them have increased his support," said Argent, at one point. "Especially among Novas. As usual, the opposite result from what the terrorists intended to happen."

"He's gay, by the way," said Bangle.

"Who's gay? Schroer?!"

"Yeah."

"What makes you think so?"

"It was the case of the eye that didn't wander," she replied, smirking.

"Just because he didn't stare at your chest doesn't mean he's gay," said Argent. She frowned, as other bits and pieces fell into place. "Though..."

"See? I knew that super brain of yours would figure it out. So, how are you doing in all this rush?"

"I just wish some people weren't so in love with the sound of their own voice," said Argent, rolling her eyes. "How can someone reach a high position in law enforcement without learning to be professional in mission briefings? The guy in charge of the group of local police I'm working with the most will talk on and on, with emphatic speech patterns and dramatic gestures about things peripheral to the job. Then, when he finally gets to the reason we're there, he drones in a low monotone, often leaving important information out."

Argent's cell phone beeped. She made a sound of annoyance and answered it.

"They've moved up the schedule on a raid," she told Bangle. "Gotta go. Sorry."

"No problem. All in the line of duty, right?"

* * *

Things took a turn for the worse that evening. Argent was pulled off the mission she'd been called to and told to get to another location as fast as she could. That meant flying, at dusk, through unfamiliar territory. Her GPS took her to the general area, and her eyes told her the specific location. She could see multiple fires glowing in the gathering dark. The isolated homestead - reminding her of Sullivan's farm - looked like the target of a recent airstrike. Dozens of LEO vehicles surrounded the home, but at a distance. There were several destroyed cars and vans nearer the property, as well as several bodies. Some of them in uniform.

Argent used her cell to call the man in charge while hovering well above the scene. She was given careful instructions on where to land. With all that carnage, she could understand the need for caution.

"They have military grade weapons," said Captain Herbert, after Argent landed and introduced herself. "That includes rocket launchers and assault rifles. And I mean real, full-auto assault rifles."

"Good God," said Argent, shocked. "How many did you lose?"

"Fifteen men and women dead; another twenty wounded, some seriously. We can't even get to the bodies. There could be more injured out there, unconscious or laying low. The worst part is, they won't talk to us. We can't negotiate. Every attempt has been met with incoherent ranting and gunfire. They were not only warned we were coming, but seem to believe we're here to kill them all."

"I honestly am not sure what I can do, here," said Argent, frowning. "About the only way I could be effective is to just charge in and try to disable or kill anyone with a weapon."

"It may come to that," said Herbert, grimly. "We can't take the chance of any of them getting away. There's about a hundred homes within a mile of here, and a small town just over that way a couple of miles. Lots of families. Lots of children."

"Who is in the house?"

"Sixteen that we know of. All adults. Five women, but they're as dedicated and fanatical as the men... maybe moreso. All of them have criminal records, most of them including violence against minorities."

They spoke for several minutes, evaluating options. The plan they decided on was for Argent to fly high over the house and wait. Herbert would use a bullhorn to give those inside a final chance to surrender. If they refused - which they likely would - she would crash down through the roof. If necessary, Argent would bring the whole house down.

I just hope I don't find out the hard way I can't take a hit from an RPG.

Argent flew into position and called Herbert to let him know. He lifted the bullhorn and pressed the button. The house exploded.

The blast left Argent stunned, tumbling through the air. She had almost recovered when she came down in a field not far away. Argent needed a moment to gather her senses. When she stood, she could see fiery debris still raining down. She tried calling Herbert, but had landed on her radio. Deeply concerned about the police officers stationed around the house, she leapt into the air and hurtled back at full speed.

The place looked like one of Dante's levels of Hell. Compounding problems, nearly everyone had been deafened by the blast. There was much confused shouting because of this. Argent quickly began checking for injuries. She found some, mostly bleeding ears and cuts and scrapes. One policewoman had hit her head when knocked down by the blast and was only semi-conscious.

Fortunately, the ambulances were far enough back to have been much less affected. Argent guided paramedics to the worst injured, then began working to put out fires.

As she flew around the area, looking for something she could do, she noticed a strangely regular shape in a dense patch of brush. Dropping down to hang over the location, she realized she was looking at a hatch at the far end of an escape tunnel. She made a quick search of the area, but spotted no-one. She tried to follow whoever had escaped through the tunnel, but her tracking skills were insufficient. With a deep sigh, she found Captain Herbert and gave him the news. His response was fulminously profane.

* * *

"They had bugged the whole place," said Argent, as she filled Johnson in the next morning. "Microphones in bushes and trees all around the property. A full alarm system, too. No-wonder they ambushed the first group. One of their microphones was close by where Captain Herbert and I were planning what to do. The house was armored, too; some of the damage was from concrete which had been poured into the walls. We only found a few bodies... pieces of bodies. The medical examiners are still trying to figure out who they belong to. We're not even sure how many were still inside."

"My God," said Johnson, looking sick. He shook his head.

"They had equipment we didn't know about," said Argent. "Stuff they shouldn't have had. And I don't just mean that it is illegal for civilians. Some of that stuff was new issue. Some of it wasn't even issue. It was special equipment for espionage. That included radio scanners and descramblers. This wasn't just some neo-Nazi hate group. They had backing. Government backing. Most likely federal."

"Well, the hunt for the bombers is winding down," said Johnson. "In large part that's due to this fiasco. But... Can you talk to Bangle before you leave? She's... not taking something well. During one raid the team she was with came under fire, and she leveled the house. Only two out of five inside survived. One of those killed was a pre-teen boy."

Argent found her in a storeroom. Bangle had obviously had a good cry, and was still dabbing her eyes. Argent moved in slowly, sat down on the box beside Bangle and carefully put her arm around her.

"Hon, I heard about what happened..."

Sobbing, Bangle tore off her mask.

"I just can't do this any more! The fighting, the fear, the mistakes...!"

"Was destroying that house a mistake? I mean, you were under fire... not just you, but the people with you."

No response.

"Have you heard what happened to me?" said Argent, more gently. "You're not the only one who..."

"They told me it was okay to blast that house," she said, in a hoarse, tired voice. "They told me there were dangerous people inside. There were children inside!"

Argent thought about reassuring her that the deaths weren't her fault. Instead, she just hugged the woman, rocking her gently.

Part Twenty-Three

I've already been skipping over stretches of time. I'm going to be doing more of that, for longer intervals. The framework for this series comes from an RPG I ran, combining events from the rule books and real life with events I set up for the game and things which the players did or caused to happen. In these stories we're only up to late 2000 and there are occurrences I want to get to in this story which won't happen for years, yet. I don't want to write that much filler, and doubt any of you would want to read it. :-)

The Baron was at full strength when the two men returned. This meant he was more willing to be forbearing; the only reason he allowed them into his presence.

"Yes?" he said, voice dripping scorn.

"You know that she won," said the first man, deferentially.

"Of course."

"We are concerned that she will be able to track back to us... and you."

The Baron didn't bother to deny this. The thought had already occurred to him and brought concern.

"She is a law enforcement officer of the Unites States government. She will not simply hunt me down."

"Her government has decided that Fuoco's attack was an assassination attempt on one of their most valuable assets," said the second man. "If we could find you, they could find you."

"So what do you propose?"

"We want to get rid of her. We have a way which will create a false trail, away from you and us. But we need your help to make it work properly."

* * *

"We've put Bangle on office duty for now," said Johnson. "Actually, I'm surprised this took so long to show."

"What about a replacement for the program?" said Steve. "They're still planning for us to put people in Cleveland."

"I have several candidates. I want you two - as the most experienced - to interview them." The Special Agent handed them folders. "Steve, here's yours; a male Nova who was showing off at a party and boiled someone's swimming pool dry, causing a lot of property damage. Argent, yours is a different situation."

"So what's he in for?"

"He walked into the headquarters of the National Tobacco Corporation, went into their secure document vault, and left with records proving they had conspired to deceive the government and the public about the dangers of tobacco."

"Oh, a political activist," said Argent, with a smirk.

"Depending on his particular stand on various issues, he may or may not want to participate. It's your job to determine whether he will. Regardless of what he says he will do."

"Gotcha."

* * *

His was in a cell with a single bunk. The prison authorities had been concerned about what he might do - casually or even accidentally - to a roommate. Given his personality and behavior, they hadn't bothered to reinforce the cell, despite his demonstrated strength level. He had put the extra room to good use. Well before she reached the cell Argent detected the scents of linseed oil, turpentine and pigments, chalk, and a few other things.

The cell was full of color and light, from framed paintings and works in progress. Apex knew she was there, as she knew he was aware of her. He turned to smile and nod a greeting, as much for the sake of manners as the benefit of the guard.

Argent had met others with Mega-Intellects twice before. Both times there had been this same rapport. It was almost like that old comedy routine, where two people kept answering each other's unfinished questions.

Now, though, the process impeded her effort. The recursive awareness made discerning truth from lie difficult, since each could echo the other. Fortunately, Apex was willing to be straightforward and open. Since he wasn't deliberately obfuscating the situation communications weren't nearly as bad as they could have been.

To the guard, the pair of Novas simply looked at each other for a couple of seconds, before Argent stepped forward, hand extended.

"I'm FBI Agent Argent."

"Apex," he responded, transferring the brush to his left hand shaking her right with his.

"You know about our program. Are you interested in participating?"

"Yes. There are complications."

Argent had already noticed that. She decided to respond by asking about something which was probably connected.

"Why are you still here?"

"Do you have any idea how long we will live?"

"A vague one. So you're saying that the eighteen month sentence is trivial compared to your expected lifespan... but there's more to it, right?"

He finally put the brush and pallet down and gave her a long, evaluating look. His gaze was penetrating without being intimidating.

"If we truly are superior, we should also demonstrate superior morality. I knowingly violated the law to achieve a goal I considered worthwhile. If I escaped it could be seen as me not believing that what I did was worthwhile."

Argent nodded, thoughtfully.

"So you're concerned that accepting our offer might give the impression that you are taking an easy out. Well, we can tailor the press releases to mitigate that."

"That would help," he said, nodding.

She began quizzing him about his qualifications, experience and attitudes. Argent was becoming more and more convinced that he would be close to ideal for the program. She was also becoming more and more strongly attracted to him.

This was not due to some power, as had been the case with Desiree. It wasn't even due to extreme physical beauty, as with Bangle. He was, quite simply, a gorgeous hunk of man, her physical and mental equal. The first such she had encountered since her Eruption.

Argent could tell that Apex was also attracted to her. However, they were both staying strictly to business. That was another point in his favor; his intellect ruled his passions. He wasn't likely to fly off the handle at some annoying criminal or civilian and use excessive force.

"So, we're agreed, then?" said Argent, as they finished covering all the required points.

"I have no place to stay. Since I have few possessions and rarely sleep I normally just wander around when places I am interested in are closed. When I need to, I shower at the YMCA."

"We'll put you up in an apartment until you can find something," said Argent. "It's part of a block we lease in case we have to house someone - witnesses we're protecting, visiting agents, et cetera."

He gestured around the cell.

"This is the first time I've settled down in one place long enough to try painting since my Eruption."

"We'd rather you have a fixed address while working with us," said Argent, dryly.

He laughed at that.

He laughs at my jokes, thought Argent. But...

Something told her that while he might be a good friend and a valuable ally, and maybe even an occasional fuckbuddy, there was no long-term relationship in store for them. Which was actually a bit of a relief. They were already finishing each other's sentences. What would they be like after even a few weeks of living together?

"If you're willing, I brought the papers with me."

"Where's the dotted line?"

* * *

Besides the art gear, Apex's possessions were sparse bordering on meager. A tough nylon backpack held hygiene materials, changes of clothing and a very well protected portable hard drive. Once he had them, they walked out of the prison to the agency car Argent had checked out. With most of the art materials in the trunk and the rest in the rear seat with the backpack, they drove towards Cincinnati.

"According to your records, you earn a good living hiring yourself out to businesses and government agencies with problems they can't crack."

"I'm cheap and I'm willing to travel," he said, shrugging. He grinned. "It doesn't hurt that I can sit down with a few appropriate textbooks overnight, then ask intelligent questions the next morning."

"I know the feeling," said Argent, nodding. "I'd love to hear your thoughts on Novas in general. I've spoken with Dr. Mazarin - he's currently doing research at the University of Kentucky, just a couple of hours from where I'm based - and he's worked with several Mega-Intellects trying to unravel just what causes us and how we work. The results have been disappointing."

"We're playing - in many cases literally - with the fundamental forces of existence."

The statement wasn't a direct answer to her question, but instead addressed a much deeper one.

"No-one had documented time..." said Argent.

"True. And causality..."

"Still, the likelihood..."

"Agreed. It is a legitimate concern. I'm hoping someone is already taking steps..."

"I haven't seen any indications, but..."

Except for one short break, during a stop for provisions, they went on like this until the car stopped in the parking lot of the innocuous small apartment building. They moved Apex's gear into his assigned quarters with little conversation. There was some furniture, as well as towels for the kitchen and bath and bed clothes. The food they had purchased at the nearby minimart was put away. Then they moved on to the bedroom.

They made the bed together. Then they kissed, and undressed each other, exploring and giving and taking pleasure as they went. There was no need for words.

* * *

"Thank you," said Apex, eventually. He bent his neck a bit to kiss her cheek. "I really needed that."

"You weren't the only one," purred Argent, curling more snugly against him.

His hand slid up to her breast and began gently fondling. Argent slid her leg off his thigh, silently signaling that she was content with this level of play for now. Apex briefly nuzzled her neck indicating acquiescence. Five times in a bit over an hour had worn out even them. Especially with both of them deliberately stretching their pleasure as much as their superhuman wills allowed the last two times.

"Yes, well, perhaps it's narrow-minded of me but I did not feel like responding to the advances of some of the other inmates."

Argent laughed, partly because she would have had less of a problem with that if their situations were reversed.

"So why no animals with powers?" said Apex, resuming their previous conversation as they cuddled. "Not even great apes."

The advantage of their complimentary powers was that they immediately picked up on any cue not deliberately masked. Neither had needed to tell the other what they liked. Or get verbal permission to try something different. In short, this had been the sex of a lifetime for both of them.

"Maybe using powers requires a conscious, sentient mind."

Argent shivered delicately as he moved his hand to her other breast, while keeping his forearm on the first one, continuing to provide it with some stimulation while he focused on the other.

"But there are Novas who had immediate physical changes before they used their powers! Since no such alterations have been found in other animals, this... strongly implies that it only affects humans."

"Which strongly implies some deliberate cause," said Argent, nodding. "Believe me, I've considered that. But if this was planned, where's the planner?"

"Dead, with all the others on board the Galatea?" said Apex, with a shrug. "Or perhaps that was an effect, unconnected with the true cause. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, this could be the result of something started decades, centuries or millennia ago."

"Aliens?" said Argent, teasingly, as she shifted slightly. This took pressure off his returning erection before it could become uncomfortable. By way of thanks, he gently pinched and rolled her nipple.

"Or secret Nazi super science which spread all over the world before something triggered it. Not that I believe either of those scenarios."

They both laughed. Then rolled apart, to look at each other as the conversation turned more serious.

"So, what, then? I've thought about this, but you seem to have thought more."

"I think someone made a discovery," said Apex, slowly and carefully, "perhaps from studying those accounts of pre-Nova superhuman feats. They devised a method to deliberately trigger powers. Then either didn't want credit or died before being able to take credit."

"One person, in the right place," said Argent, chewing her lower lip. "Perhaps on board the Galatea. Perhaps in the reactor design team, down here."

"Of course," said Apex, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling, "this is all just speculation."

"So let's take our minds off of it," said Argent, straddling him and putting her hands on his chest.

* * *

"No-one seems to know where Argent is," said Chaos Commando.

"Then we draw her out," said the Baron, scowling. "The boy, I'd say."

"Not sure I like beating up on a kid," said CC.

"This is a kid who can bench-press a Buick," said Dama Rojo.

"We do not 'beat up on' him unless we need to," said the Baron. "His main function is bait. Argent is our target."

* * *

The next morning they finally emerged from their passions - both physical and intellectual - sufficiently to again take notice of their surroundings. As she looked around the bedroom after finishing her morning ablutions in the bathroom, Argent burst out laughing.

"Man of steel. Woman of steel. Bed of Kleenex."

"I think we lost the deposit," said Apex.

"Department issue furniture," she said, shrugging. "Don't worry. I'll handle the paperwork."

After a breakfast which was sizable even for Novas, Argent called in to the office to explain that she was just finishing getting Apex settled in to his new quarters. Then helped him clean up. Argent had keys to the whole floor, so they brought a replacement bed in from a storeroom. They also installed a computer setup for Apex to use while he was here. Cable TV and Internet connections were already active.

They finished with the last few details, and surveyed their work.

"I think this might just do," said Apex, with a smile and a nod. "I can put my art stuff over..."

Argent's cell called for her attention. She answered... and froze.

"No..." said Argent, feeling the blood drain from her face.

"What's wrong?" said Apex, concerned.

"My... a young boy I'm responsible for is in trouble, and I'm at least ten minutes away!"

"Go!" yelled Apex, actually running ahead of her and opening the door.

Part Twenty-Four

"This is weird," said Dama Rojo, as she examined her altered reflection. Her voice contrasted with her currently male appearance. "Couldn't they find any women we could be?!"

"Keep in mind that this is only an illusion," said the Baron, also looking very different from his usual self while sounding as bombastic as always. "A true change of form would have been difficult to perform for all three of us at the same time, and might not have lasted long enough to complete our task. These are the likenesses of three known neo-Nazis connected with numerous anti-social acts, including a bombing of the local headquarters for a gay rights group. All three are still at large and are known associates, which is why these individuals were chosen."

"I could care less about what they did to a bunch of queers," muttered Chaos Commando. "Those same guys, though... Well, Connie, you're Hispanic, I'm Mediterranean, and the Baron is whatever the fuck he is. We're all dark enough they'd target us, too. Suits me just fine for them to get the blame for this."

"Enough jabbering," said the Baron, irritated. "Just remember, I'm Jake, you're Lou, and 'he' is Gordon."

"Got it, 'Jake.'"

* * *

Andy worked at his custom keyboard. Not only was it oversized and over-rugged, it was silent, allowing him to work during those long nights when he wasn't sleeping but others in the house were. Just now, he was taking time before heading to school to help someone. He was blogging as BigKid in a group supposedly entirely made of teen Novas. "Supposedly" because despite some pretty strict security, there were a more people on here than there were known teen Novas in the world. The service was sponsored by the Aeon Society. Andy knew many Novas - including Argent - didn't think much of that group, due to their being the primary driving force behind the creation of Project Utopia and Team Tomorrow, but they did a lot to help Novas besides their work with those institutions.

Right now, Andy was helping a kid who had just Erupted, complete with extreme physical changes.

"One thing no-one else has mentioned," Andy typed, "is the bullying. It doesn't matter that you can juggle anvils. They'll still pick on you. I've been teased, insulted, even spit on. And you can't do anything to make them stop. You have to just grit your teeth and try to ignore them. Then report what they did as soon as you can."

Someone immediately jumped in to say that reporting would just make things worse, but was virtually shouted down by others.

Andy was about to send some general encouragement to the newcomer, when he was distracted by some odd noises outside. He looked up from the screen, frowning, puzzled. He heard the sounds again, and realized they were gunshots. Not just gunshots, but automatic weapons fire. He could hear others in the house talking about the disturbance. He felt a sudden pang of fear. Not for him, but for others, especially those in the house.

Andy was no Mega-intellect, but he was far from stupid. He also had Argent and several others looking after him. They knew there was a chance of someone trying to get at Argent through him, even though his official connection was to Sarah. They had taken precautions, of several different types. Among them, drilling him on ways of avoiding attackers. Andy had no desire to get into a fight. That didn't mean he was going to hide from trouble. It did mean that he knew to be careful.

There were several options available to him. He picked one which would allow him to check and make sure there really was trouble, but send the alarm automatically if he didn't come back. The gadget was battery powered and worked through a built-in cell phone, so even if someone cut the wires to the house the message would get out.

Andy started the device.

"This is a recorded message which will be sent in five minutes if I don't stop it," he said.

Andy gave his name and location, and explained that he was a Nova. He next reported the shots - which were still continuing sporadically in the distance - and that he was going to investigate. He hit Stop and Hold, watched to make sure the counter was going down, and stood. When the timer hit zero, the gadget would call 911, the local FBI office and Argent's cell phone, delivering its message to each as they answered.

He wasn't supposed to go outside if he suspected trouble. However, he was well aware that the kind of trouble which could be directed against a Nova could hurt everyone around. If someone was after him, he wanted any confrontation to be outside, away from his friends.

Andy opened his window and climbed out. Dropping to the ground from his second-story room was trivial for him. Tracking the noise was more difficult, and took longer than he expected. The source seemed to be moving around. He finally located two men shooting assault rifles at parked cars as they walked around the neighborhood. They seemed to be having fun. Andy, scowling, started towards them. Those guns couldn't hurt him unless they hit him in a soft spot. He wasn't going to give them the chance.

Just as they noticed him, he jumped forward, landing in front of the two men. He grabbed the guns by the barrels and yanked upwards, pulling them out of the men's hands. He then stepped back, twisted the barrels together, and tossed the ruined guns at the men's feet, smiling.

The two men looked at each other. Then together lunged forward, swinging.

Andy reflexively ducked one and blocked the other. His surprise at being attacked was compounded by the realization that they were both superhumanly strong. He jumped back... but both of them jumped after him!

Andy swung at the man on his left and connected, actually staggering him. The man on his right threw a kick, but Andy pivoted away and punched back. The man swore - sounding oddly like a woman - as he barely dodged. The first man rejoined the fight.

For several frantic seconds Andy managed to hold his own, a couple of times landing solid punches which would have ended the fight if there had been only one opponent. Andy was obviously stronger and tougher than either of them. Unfortunately, they worked as a team, and gradually wore him down. Finally, one of them landed a hard blow, staggering the boy. They both then pounded on Andy until he finally collapsed.

"It's about time," said the other man, breathlessly, speaking for the first time and actually sounding like a man. "Kid's tougher than we were told."

They picked up the dazed young Nova - one taking the feet, the other the hands - and carried him to an empty lot. There a third man waited.

"You were a big help," said the man with a woman's voice, sounding irritated.

"My powers are too identifiable," said the third man, sounding very different in tone and accent from the others. "Lift him up."

Andy was already starting to recover, but the pair knew what they were doing. The got him on his feet and held him in a way which meant they could control him. If he were fresh he might have been able to break away, but in his current condition was too groggy. He didn't bother struggling, hoping they would get careless while he recovered.

"How do we contact Argent?" said the third man, moving in close and speaking in a low voice.

Andy responded with some of the profanity he had learned from the people yelling insults at him. The man stared at him impassively for a moment, then made a flicking gesture gesture. Andy let out a huge, startled grunt as something struck him in the stomach.

"You are not our target. Tell us how to draw her here, and you will be left alone."

"No way am I leading her into a trap," said Andy. He hoped that was true. Since they wouldn't know she was coming, due to his automated call, presumably any trap would not be ready when she got here. He just had to keep them busy until then. Which wasn't going to be easy.

Another flick, this time snapping his head back as an invisible blow broke his nose.

"How do we bring Argent here?" The odd thing was that he didn't seem to be angry. Just determined. Very calmly but very seriously determined.

This went on for an interminable period. Long enough that Andy's superhuman physique was actually starting to heal the earliest insults. They didn't seem to care. They weren't interested in hurting him, just getting him to call Argent.

Suddenly, something slammed into the man on Andy's left, hard enough not only to spin Andy and the man on his right around, but break them apart. Andy tumbled to the ground. He looked up at the third man.

"You... can't hurt me any more," said Andy, smiling up at his tormenter through bloody lips. "Momma's here."

* * *

Despite the urgency of the situation, when Argent arrived in the neighborhood and saw the figures in the large lawn beside the church she didn't simply dive in. She recognized the three who had Andy, and knew they were quite desperate and dangerous. Though how they had managed to capture the young Nova was unknown. Also, something just wasn't right about this. She took perhaps a second and a half to examine the situation.

One thing she noticed was four Quantum signatures. Well, that explained how they had captured Andy, but it also increased her uncertainty about what was going on. The boy's was the most familiar by far, of course, and the second strongest. Two were complete strangers. But the fourth and strongest... Well, she couldn't wait any longer; she'd figure it out as she went.

She dove to help gain speed, leveled off just above the ground and rammed one of the men in the back with her shoulder. Argent simply crashed Dama Rojo - whom she had not yet seen the true form of - into a tree, knowing she could take the hit and figuring her opponent probably couldn't. She was right; Dama Rojo was out of the fight, maybe out of this life, while Argent was barely shaken. Argent kicked into the air and arced over, heading for Chaos Commando. Who turned and ran. Letting him go to focus on the sole remaining threat, Argent changed course for the fourth man, accelerating as she dove.

The Baron extended his hand and shot a bolt of something at Argent... which she swatted aside. A nearby stand of saplings changed into a plot of bamboo. Argent now realized whom she faced, and her attitude changed to one of take no prisoners. She rammed into him. The impact alone nearly collapsed his protections, and drove him into the ground. Argent started pounding.

The Baron frantically began his Cheshire Cat effect. Argent took her extra action and grabbed him.

"Not this time, bastard!"

They vanished.

* * *

"Holy crap!" the copilot yelped.

"What the Hell is wrong with you?"

"Look!" he shouted, pointing.

The pilot looked, then gaped, then grabbed the controls.

"Get on the horn! Tell the... I don't know, the Coast Guard? Tell them there's a major Nova fight in the middle of the Atlantic!"

The Baron was disoriented, fighting defensively. Argent's presence had thrown off his teleportation and his equilibrium. He didn't even know where they were. However, Argent couldn't pummel him as effectively while holding him. He hastily reinforced his protections, feeling them strain with each blow. He shoved his hands at her face. She ducked as a bolt visible from orbit shot through the sky, fortunately dissipating before hitting anything except air.

Argent had let go to dodge. The Baron dropped away, turning to try and shoot her again. Argent had a flash of realization as she noticed an airliner nearby. They were well above the ocean, location unknown. However, their altitude was high enough that a normal human would need supplemental oxygen to remain conscious... as would most Novas. Did the Baron realize this?

She dove under him, then flew upwards. The Baron turned to face her, but wasn't quick enough. Her two-fisted ram drove him even higher. Argent knew she could remain active under these conditions for perhaps as much as a minute. A Baseline human - or a Nova with no physical enhancements - would be unconscious in a far shorter time. She worked to keep him busy, distracted, as well as not letting him go lower.

Her strategy worked. On her third pass she noticed that his eyes seemed glazed. As she came around again she saw him go limp. Argent was also starting to feel the altitude by this time. She had spots in her vision, and could tell her thoughts were sluggish. She grabbed the Baron and dove.

She almost blacked out before finally getting low enough that she could begin to recover. She checked the Baron's vital signs. Weak, but getting stronger. Now, what to do with him?

For the first time, Argent realized she might not be anywhere near land. She pulled out her GPS unit.

Not good, but not nearly as bad as it could have been.

She was over an hour's flight from land, well off the Georgia coast. Keeping the Baron out without killing him on the long trip to the nearest facility where she could even call for help was not going to be easy.

With a sigh, Argent headed west.

Part Twenty-Five

"I'm surprised to hear that Chaos Commando surrendered, rather than fighting it out," said Argent. Two days later, and they were still cleaning up after the attack on Andy.

"He saw what you did to Dama Rojo, and had no idea what you did to the Baron," said Johnson. "He also didn't like the way the local cops were treating him."

"The good news is that since all three have international warrants against them - including multiple charges by the federal government - we're holding them," said Johnson. "I don't know if you heard, but since Dama Rojo and Chaos Commando were arrested by local police in the community where the foster home is, they were claiming jurisdiction."

"Even though kidnapping was involved," said George, astounded. "Leaving aside how they were going to hold them."

"Well, most law enforcement agencies in the US these days have capture equipment for Novas with their level of physical ability," said Johnson. He looked at Argent. "So far, all they will say is that they were hired by Ortgies."

"That doesn't make sense," said Argent, frowning. "It doesn't fit his profile. He likes to keep himself separated from his criminal activities. Even the bank robberies were done by remote control. He would have at the very least used a false name, and more likely worked through an intermediary."

"They're sticking with their story. I'm trying to get a telepath here to check them, but so far no luck."

"I bet the Baron told the others Ortgies hired them," said George.

"For now, all we can do is hold them and question them in the normal manner," said Johnson. "Argent, would you stay for a minute."

"Sure," she said, sitting back down as George finished rising and then left.

"You're very quiet today. Is there something wrong?"

"When I went after those three I was... angry at myself for not being there when Andy needed me," said Argent, guiltily. "I took it out on the Baron."

"Unless there's something not in your report, I don't see anything improper in your actions," said Johnson.

"That's the only thing. I was... more ruthless than I might have been, I..."

"That's a judgement call," said Johnson. "If you feel you might have done something wrong, talk to one of the counselors."

"I might just do that," said Argent, sighing.

"In other news," said Johnson, with a bit of a smile, "Apex has started his training and is doing very well. My superiors have decided that once you take him on a couple of missions and he checks out, he'll go to Cleveland."

"Poor guy," said Argent, with sympathy. "Well, I'm glad to be back home, anyway."

She had flown for several hours to reach first the shore, then a city with a significant FBI presence. Fortunately, her GPS was programmed with the location of all FBI offices, so she was able to go directly to a place which could take the Baron.

"Not sure if they can hold him," said Argent, with a sigh and a shrug. "I mean, how do you imprison a teleporter?"

"The Bureau has a special task force working on problems just like that," said Johnson. "It includes several Mega-geniuses. So far, the best they've been able to come up with is a combination of Adrenocilin and tranquilizers."

* * *

"It's been two weeks and I still can't believe Schroer actually won," said George, as he and Argent walked to Johnson's office. "When he and his supporters split off from the GOP, everyone assumed Bush would win. Then he and Gore got into that contest, each trying to prove he was more extreme than the other, so that Schroer was seen as a moderate."

"He is a moderate," said Argent. She shook her head and laughed. "My God, that I would live see the day when the US has a gay President..."

"What?!" said George, scandalized. "Robert Schroer is not gay!"

"Good morning," said Johnson, as they walked in. "Have a seat. I have an upcoming event I want you two to work."

"The Project Utopia 'Get to know us! You'll be glad you did!' rally?" said Argent, with a smirk.

"Yes. Well. They are indeed having a combination recruitment drive and promotion event the day after the Inauguration. You two, plus the Cleveland team, will be working security. Need I remind you what happened the last time we had outside Novas at a political event in Cincinnati?"

"No-one has heard a word from Human Politics for Humans Only since the crackdown," said Argent. "They were probably a front, completely fictitious, set up solely to give phantoms the blame for the crimes committed in their name."

"That means whoever did the setting-up is still out there," said Johnson. "Be. Careful."

* * *

Argent had to admit that the Project Utopia people had done a good job. The costumes were both impressive and practical, and those wearing them carefully trained to work the public. One could almost believe that McFate and Twilight, especially, were more than human. That is, not merely people with powers, but demigods. Even the non-Nova PU people with them were carefully schooled, demonstrating an air of respect approaching reverence towards the Novas, while not being obsequious. Argent found the carefully choreographed display both convincing and disturbing.

If the second-stringers are treated like this, she thought, The first team must think they're gods...

On the other end of the spectrum were the wannabes who had come here, many of them wearing costumes. Most of whom did not actually have powers, or at least Quantum signatures. From what she overheard, some of them expected Project Utopia to give them powers!

Her train of thought was interrupted as one of the demigods approached her, smiling and extending his hand.

"I'm Vargen," the blond man said. "Swedish for wolf. Get it from my maternal grandparents."

"Argent," she said, shaking hands.

"I could feel your Quantum vibe thirty feet away," he said, obviously impressed. "So, you here to sign up?"

"I'm working Security," she said, pointing to her ID.

"Yeah, but you could earn a lot more working for Project Utopia."

"I earn a lot more than my salary playing the stock market," said Argent. "I like my job."

"But you could do so much more with us! You could be worldwide!"

"I'm already national," said Argent. "Though so far I've only worked regional. That's enough for me."

He wasn't easy to dissuade, but Argent finally got rid of him by pretending to hear a call on her radio. Naturally, right after he left she did hear a call on her radio. Someone had slipped through security into the area around the stage, where Project Utopia personnel were giving their spiel for the cause. It was the way he had slipped through which was raising alarms; when someone spotted him, he left them standing, dazed but apparently unharmed, using what seemed to be some sort of sound power.

Argent didn't want to cause a stir by flying or leaping to the scene. Fortunately, she was close enough to one of the security checkpoints around the stage to reach it quickly. Unfortunately, the convention security guard who checked her ID was extra-diligent. Argent couldn't blame her, but that gave the intruder time to actually reach the stage.

The spiel faltered as the well-dressed young man strode boldly forward. Twilight and Aremac just stood there, staring. Obviously, they were having trouble adapting to this event, which had interrupted their carefully planned script. Just as the security guard waved Argent through, he reached the microphone and began talking.

"I am Michael Witness," he said, ominously. "I bring the Noise."

Argent was actually in the air, leaping towards him when a loud, bell-like sound pealed forth. People all around were stunned, some of them literally collapsing. Argent was shaken but, gritting her teeth, flew into him. They hit hard, and slid across the stage, fetching up against a support for the curtain backdrop. Witness had hit hard and was obviously disoriented. Argent had her fist raised to strike, but hesitated, wondering if that would be necessary. Then she heard the shot.

Swinging around, she saw Aremac falling. There was a frozen moment, as Argent took things in. He'd been hit by at least one bullet, probably in the chest. Everyone else was still trying to figure out what was going on.

As he clutched his chest and fell, Argent followed the probable ballistic path and spotted the shooter. He was an innocuous-looking white guy, using a tricked-out AR-15 variant, complete with high-powered scope. Amateur sniper. How he'd gotten that thing inside the convention center was a matter to leave for another time. Right now, he was shifting his aim. Towards Twilight.

She just stood there and screamed, looking down at her collapsing teammate, unaware of her own danger. Argent jumped in the way. She took several hits as the man fired a short burst. They hurt. A lot. The burst ended, and Argent blurred forward, flying over the just-staring-to-panic crowd to grab the hot barrel in both hands. She bent it double between her hands so quickly the metal broke on the outside of the bend, though the rest held. She then smacked the gunman with a careful backhand.

Argent looked around and saw another shooter taking aim at Twilight. Same type of guy, same type of gun. Argent's tackle broke both his arms and some ribs. And over there was another gunman! Argent threw the second AR-15 at him, not only breaking his arms but nearly tearing one off below the elbow.

Now, back to Witness. He was already on his feet and trying to orient himself. Argent jumped up, flew above him, and dropped straight down, faster than gravity would allow. She crashed through the stage behind Witness, taking him down below it with her.

"I give!" he screamed, as she yanked him around, right fist drawn back. "I just wanted to get back at them for not hiring me! I just wanted to show them how good I am; I didn't want to hurt anyone!"

"So you hired those gunmen to make you look good?" snapped Argent.

"No! I never saw them before! I don't know anything about them!"

Argent hesitated, but decided to accept that. She quickly bound him with cuffs around the wrists and tie-strips above the elbows, adding a blindfold and ear plugs. This was the best in restraint methodologies they'd been able to come up with which could actually be carried concealed, and so far it had proven largely successful against Novas. The psychological burden of having their senses blocked in this way tended to discourage them from causing trouble, at least until they could be put in something more secure.

With all the confusion from the Nova's actions and the shootings, Argent needed several minutes before she could get Witness to someone who could hold him. Then, finally, she could deal with her injuries.

In a private spot, Argent removed her jacket and unbuttoned her blouse. Her chest and stomach were covered with angry-looking red welts, some of them bleeding a bit. One of those on her belly had something sticking out of it. With a wince, Argent pulled the object loose. It was a bullet with a black nose.

"Armor piercing rounds," she said, astonished.

She had wondered how a known physical superhuman like Aremac had fallen so easily. Now she knew, and that knowledge frightened her. This could have very easily been lethal to her.

"Someone is hunting Novas."

Part Twenty-Six

"I've read your debriefing," said Mr. Simons. "I want you to go into detail about this Argent person."

"My God," breathed Twilight. She shivered, took a deep breath, then recited the events at the rally, starting just before the interruption began. "By the time I realized we were in trouble she had already taken out Witness. Then, Aremac went down, and... Before I could react, she had two of the gunmen down. I saw Witness starting to move, and raised my hands, and suddenly she crashed down on him from above and took him out of the fight. I've never seen anyone move like that! Not even Mr. Zip! It wasn't just speed - Mr. Zip is probably faster - but the way she moved! Like the whole world was one of those inflatable playgrounds and she was just bouncing around."

"And none of you tried to recruit her?!" said Mr. Thorvald, the other Project Utopia auditor in the room.

"Three people did," she said. "Vargen before, and Strong-Arm and McFate after. She wasn't interested."

* * *

As the two men got in their UN issue car they didn't discuss the situation - didn't even think about it beyond the basic facts - until they were well away from the Project Utopia installation. Then they did a bug sweep, and changed course, driving quickly to a wooded area randomly selected. Leaving as much of their belongings behind as they were comfortable with, they walked through the woods, several times changing direction before beginning their conversation.

"One dead," said Thorvald, sourly. "Not much of a trial exercise."

"We didn't know the local FBI office would have such effective personnel. More than this Argent, it seems."

"How did Proteus miss someone so potent?"

"We will determine that with careful study," said Simons, "not hysteria. I think you're fixated on her and ignoring the larger situation."

He gave the other man a stern look.

"We are just getting started with this phase of the project. As long as we are careful - as long as no-one outside Proteus even knows it exists - we will succeed!"

"Still... To have the best chance at keeping her under control until she can be handled, we need to recruit her."

"Agreed. I'll suggest to Thetis that we approach the new President, perhaps indirectly. He has already expressed an interest in both increasing the use of Novas in US government service and participating more officially in Utopia."

* * *

Argent was working her new "heavy bag" when she heard the scream of jet engines, getting closer. Alarmed, she hurried outside. Instead of a crash or emergency landing, she saw one of the Project Utopia VTOL planes descending, gear extended, onto the large field beside the training building. Scowling, she walked towards the vehicle.

Her expression shifted to surprise when she saw who got out of the jet. First came Caestus Pax himself, his gold, silver and blue costume glinting in the afternoon sun, clinging to his magnificently sculpted body. Then came Lightning, younger and brasher but just as impressive. Next was Ragnarockette, the striking Icelandic beauty. Finally came the Apollo Kid, glowing softly even in the brightness of the day.

"Argent?" said Pax, smiling a bit, as he approached her and extended his hand. "I'm Caestus Pax."

He then proceeded - quite unnecessarily - to introduce the others.

She had to admit, they were impressive. With their colorful costumes, their carefully trained presences, the superhuman charisma some of them possessed, they seemed larger than life, more than real. She had thought the members of the auxiliary team she had recently met to be striking. These four - core members of Team Tomorrow - appeared as demigods even to her. Argent felt a bit underdressed, standing there in her workout clothes. However, she was not going to let them see any of this.

"You know, this is federal property," she said, raising an eyebrow, "and I'm pretty certain it's not zoned for aircraft landings. We haven't even been able to get permission for a helicopter landing pad."

That was not the reaction Pax was expecting. However, he recovered quickly.

"You impressed several people whose opinions we respect," said Pax, ignoring her points. "We could use someone like you in Team Tomorrow."

"I'm not interested," she said, politely but firmly.

"Could you at least let us come inside and hear us out?" said Pax, persuasively.

"Of course," said Argent, realizing that as much as she personally had no interest in joining Project Utopia or Team Tomorrow, maintaining good relations with both was important. "I'm off duty the rest of the day, unless some emergency comes up."

She led them into the building, postponing the recruitment spiel by explaining the equipment.

"This is impressive," said Pax, examining the heavy bag. "I can see from the dents that you punch it, but... What is it?"

"A bundle of railcar axles, squeezed tight by steel straps and wrapped in several layers of stainless steel repair tape," said Argent.

Pax tentatively punched it a few times, but seemed reluctant to try hard, especially when it started swinging. Ragnarockette, however, after a few tests, spent nearly a minute enthusiastically punching and kicking the thing. Almost like she was showing off.

Argent couldn't delay the spiel forever. She waited, patiently and politely, while Pax delivered his pitch. There was some support from the others, but mostly he did all the talking. Argent asked a few questions, and promised to think things through. She actually did that right then and there, and renewed her decision not to quit her job and join up. She was pretty sure that at least Apollo realized this. Pax went into "socializing" mode, talking about the people he worked with and the things they had done. Again, Argent remained polite and noncommittal. Finally, he wound down, and allowed her to speak with the other members of the recruitment team.

While she found Pax to be a stuffed costume - someone whose motivation for being here was more about building himself up by improving his team than actually helping people - and Lightning to be a brash kid, she established an immediate rapport with Apollo, due to the "handshake" effect she had encountered before with Mega-intellects. She soon realized she was establishing a different sort of rapport with Ragnarockette.

"Please, call be Guggie," said the T2M Nova, almost gushing, as they flirted. "It's the closest most Americans can come to pronouncing either of my names."

I wonder if Pax knows, thought Argent, realizing that Apollo certainly did, but didn't mind - in fact found it kinky - while Lightning was oblivious.

On second thought, the leader of the band was so self-absorbed he most likely thought any libido besides his or a potential partner's to be inconsequential.

They finally wound down and Pax announced they needed to get back to New York. Argent was actually a bit sad to see Apollo and Guggie leave. With Bangle out of the program and Verdigris and Apex reassigned to Cleveland, she occasionally felt lonely, being the only Nova working for the FBI here in Cincinnati. This thought gave her pause; were the guests working some subtle Nova influence on her? After a moment of introspection she decided that was not the case.

Argent actually waved goodbye as their pilot lifted the VTOL craft into the air.

* * *

"Did you notice her musculature?" said Ragnarockette, eliciting a smirk from Apollo.

"Yeah, she's buff, Guggie," said Lightning. "So what?"

"Think about it, Tony," said the Apollo Kid. "Most super-strong Novas have a fairly normal build, since their strength doesn't come from their muscles. Most of those who don't, have a very exaggerated build, including the women. Like extreme body builders. Most of the rest of the heavily muscled Mega-strength Novas are absurd to obscene. She looks like an athlete at the top of her form."

"What are you getting at?" said Pax.

"Shelby, the only other Novas I know of like that are either in Project Utopia already, performers of some sort who have to look good for their job... or among the deadliest and most effective combatants on the planet," said Ragnarockette, her expression clouding. "Elites."

"All the more reason to recruit her," said Pax, nodding in a self-assured manner.

"There's something else," said Apollo. He caught Pax's eye, to make sure he had the leader's attention. "Her Quantum signature was nearly as strong as yours."

"Are you sure?" said Pax, startled. "She didn't seem that powerful, either in person or the reports we've had."

"Well, this is always an approximation, but it's close. I think she just hasn't been in a situation where she's had to go all out since very early in her career," said Apollo. "If the reports are right, she's not as strong, fast or tough as you and has no energy projection abilities, but is more developed in other areas. That fight where she simply swatted a Quantum bolt aside... She may have something like your teek but which works with energy. It's a pretty good bet she also has combat skills none of us in this plane have. Remember, she was in law enforcement before her Eruption. We were all civilians before we joined Team Tomorrow."

"She has also been fighting alone against powerful Novas for years," said Ragnarockette. "Sometimes more than one at a time. As far as we can tell, she has never done worse than driving her opponent away."

"Whose side are you on?" said Pax, in a barely audible mutter. He shrugged. "Everything you're telling me reinforces that we need to have her on our team. Whatever it takes to do that."

Part Twenty-Seven

Brian Allen found Argent - or, rather, Sarah - in what had for years been a movie theater, and for years after lain empty, but now was being renovated into a restaurant with bar. While the restaurant part of the business upstairs was open, the rest was still being worked on.

"Hey," he called out, waving, as he dodged around two guys cutting panelling over a pair of sawhorses. "They told me upstairs you were down here."

Sarah waved him over to where she sat at the makeshift bar.

"Good afternoon," she said, as he dropped onto the stool besides hers. "What brings you here?"

"Those Project Utopia jerks came around again," he said, scowling. "They just don't know how to accept a polite 'no.' I know Schroer is being pressured from several directions to allow them to recruit from among federal Novas, but they seem to think that means we have to join up. It's getting really annoying."

"Why do you think I'm here? The boss has been helping me avoid them."

"Yeah, but without you around, they've been targeting me," said Brian, plaintively.

"So have some Nitro," said Sarah.

"Say what?"

"Amber! Two Nitros, on my tab!"

Amber turned out to be a gorgeous, stacked blond in her early thirties. Except for being rather taller than Sarah, and with a round face instead of an oval one, she and Sarah might have been sisters. She plunked down in front of each of them an old-fashioned glass bottle containing a thick, oily, yellowish liquid.

"You gonna do his, too?" said Amber, holding up a bottle opener linked to her apron by a string.

"Need the practice."

Brian watched, puzzled, as Sarah slid her bottle into position, looking up. He also looked up, and stared. Someone had fastened a piece of scrap foam insulation board to the bare beams over the bar; there was a painted a target on it. He could just make out several bottle caps embedded in the foam.

Brian looked back down just in time to see Sarah flick her finger at the cap on the bottle in front of her. There was a mixture of sounds - a glassy plink, a metallic tink, a pop, and the muffled thunk of the cap hitting the board. Looking up, he saw that there was now another cap there, just a bit off-center.

"Fuck! Chipped the lip."

"I'll add the fine to your bill," said Amber, with a mischievous grin.

"Every time I think I'm over being impressed by what physical Novas can do..." said Brian.

Sarah switched bottles.

"Mind the chink," she said, as she aligned the second bottle.

This time it was a clean hit, but the cap was right on edge of the black circle.

"Just can't seem to hit the bullseye and also miss the glass," Sarah muttered, as she took a swig from her bottle.

Brian read the ingredients on his, shrugged, and took a cautious sip. It wasn't bad, so he took another, bolder one.

"I guess you come here often," he said, gesturing upwards with his bottle.

"Oh, they had that there before I found this place," said Sarah. "Amber's partner, Cecilia, is in a Nova group for Mega geniuses, which is how I found out about it. But I wasn't even the second one to find them."

"Yeah," said Amber, sighing in an exasperated fashion, "we read about Sarah - I mean, Argent - and then other Novas in the local FBI office and figured this would be a Nova friendly city. Then we got here and..."

Brian grimaced. A city councilman had recently begun a campaign to "register" all Novas residing in Cincinnati, claiming their potential for causing harm justified this.

"Given the race relations problems they've been having here the past few years, and the fact that Cecilia had Mega-Intelligence, you'd think those two should have known better," said Sarah. "Well, I can tell you from personal experience that even superhuman intellects can make mistakes."

"Hey, it takes one to know one," said Amber, with a sweet grin. "As a non-Nova genius, I cherish the occasional times I can correct her."

"You're not a Nova," said Brian, startled. "Looking the way you do, I just assumed that you had to be."

"Oooh, flatterer," said Amber, with a giggle.

"She tries too hard sometimes to fulfill the dumb blond stereotype," said Sarah. She scowled. "As someone who has had that applied to them I don't understand why."

"Because it's so much fun pulling IQ rank on people who judge by appearance," said Amber, with a wicked grin.

"Some of us didn't have that option," said Sarah. "My IQ was good but well below genius before I Erupted."

"Hey, Cecilia!" a deep male voice called. "Where do you want this?"

Brian turned to see one of the biggest, most heavily muscled men he had ever encountered in person standing nearby, a large load of lumber over one shoulder. He was speaking with a small, elfin woman (she actually had pointed ears) wearing large glasses, her long hair gathered in a braid down her back.

"Over by the plywood," she said, in a high, clear voice.

"That's my gal," said Amber, sighing as she gazed fondly at the small woman. "Of course, Tim's not hard on the eyes, either."

"He's a bit too exaggerated for my tastes," said Sarah, with memories of her taint making her shiver a bit.

"He's a Nova?" said Brian. "I guess he'd have to be. Not just from his size, but the fact that he can carry all that casually."

"Oh, yeah," said Amber. "We deliberately advertised for Nova help. Oh, and he's straight, to get that out of the way. And actually kinda shy, which is a shame."

"Since Cecilia is a Nova, they plan to make this place attractive to Novas," said Sarah. "The city council is already trying to shut them down."

"Besides the restaurant upstairs and the bar down here we will have a bandstand on the stage where the screen used to be, with a dance floor in front of it," said Amber, enthusiastically. "We're going to build terraces on the sloping floor and put in tables, too!"

"This is your project," said Brian, examining her.

"Is it that obvious?" she said, with a laugh. "Yeah. Cecilia gets part of the upstairs - the balcony will be her office - for her business. Which is a sort of Nova employment agency. She's particularly good at pattern matching, connecting people with jobs they'd be good at."

"I like it," said Brian, smiling and nodding.

"Tinker! Damnit! I told you, no elaborations!"

This time Brian turned to see Cecilia yelling at a somewhat haggard looking man, who was holding a large, light-colored panel.

"But this new electroluminescent panel is far more efficient than fluorescents!"

"I don't care! We already have the city inspector breathing down our necks."

The man looked crestfallen.

"Look, after this place is open, the next time a light needs replacing you can sneak one of those in. Meanwhile, though, we stick to code."

He sighed and nodded.

"Poor Tinker," said Amber. "He's a Mega-genius inventor but has no common sense. People joke he has the world's most dangerous basement."

“I heard Cecilia say that when it comes to the laws of physics, he's a wanted man!” said Sarah, laughing.

"Anyway, we already have a Nova entertainer booked, as soon as we can get this place open," said Amber, with a sigh. "Hopefully, that won't be much longer. We couldn't put the new walls and ceiling in 'till we got the wiring and plumbing fixed, and we can't put the terraces in until the walls and ceiling are in, and we can't..."

"I get the idea," said Brian. "Well, you've got my promise to give this place a try."

"Our beverage and alcohol licenses are already operational, thanks to the restaurant upstairs," said Amber. "Novas who promise to stay out of the way are welcome to sneak down here when the doors are open."

"Thanks," said Brian, smiling. "I think I'll do that."

Part Twenty-Eight

"'Tunnel bullets'?" said George, as he went through the day's briefing notes. "That doesn't make sense."

"You're right," said Argent, "it doesn't. It's just another mass media term to raise hysteria and sell news. Like 'cop killer bullets' or 'Saturday night special.' For most of those you can't even find a consistent definition. In this case, though, tunnel bullets are supposed to be a submunitions package driven forward by a small explosive charge which goes off on impact. Wouldn't actually work, mind you. Not enough volume for an effective amount of explosive."

"Yet we have a directive from the Bureau to be on the lookout for them," said Johnson, with a sigh. "With no formal description or definition. Things like this are often used as justification to search and/or hold people we know are bad but can't normally touch. 'Suspicion of possession of explosive handgun bullets' could help corral several illegal arms dealers and drug dealers."

"I don't like it," said Argent, scowling. "It's dishonest."

"You don't have to like it," said Johnson, sympathetically. "You don't have to do it. In fact, watch out for Agents and cops who are misusing it. Just be aware that you can take advantage of these orders if you have to."

There was a knock, and an older Agent Argent had occasionally worked with opened the door and stuck his head into the room.

"Did you folks hear about that shooting last night? City cop shot a black guy in the back as he was running away. Whole city's up in arms, especially the black neighborhoods."

"Oh, God," groaned George.

"Remember me saying, a couple months back, that 2001 looked to be a good year?" said Argent. "I take it back. Here it is, only April, and we've already got this, on top of other problems."

"To quote Billy Joel, 'We didn't start the fire,'" said Johnson.

"But we may have to put it out," said George.

* * *

For the next several days Argent and George were busy dealing with the side-effects of the riots which resulted from the shooting. Fortunately, in addition to presenting problems the situation also presented opportunities. They and other FBI agents were able to take several wanteds and suspects into custody and get solid leads on others. However, they still had other work coming in.

"We have an Amber Alert," said Special Agent Johnson, at the morning briefing a few days after the riots. "Fouad Abdul Hamad AlGaid kidnapped his nine year old daughter, Aamina, from the home of her mother, Carol, in Dayton last night, seriously injuring the woman in the process. There was already a court order keeping him away from the pair. He is a Saudi citizen; his wife and daughter have dual Saudi and US citizenship. He is almost certainly trying to get back to Saudi Arabia. The Greater Cincinnati Airport is already under close watch, with the help of the Kentucky State Police."

Johnson went on to show photos of the man and child, and describe the car he had last been seen driving.

"AlGaid should be considered dangerous, and possibly armed. Watch out for him."

* * *

Later that day, Argent and George were catching up on paperwork resulting from the burst of recent arrests when Johnson called them into his office.

"We have a problem. They found AlGaid, and he's a Nova, which makes him our problem. He used some sort of compulsion to make the police officer who stopped his car for speeding shoot himself. Fortunately, in the vest."

"God," said George, sourly. "How do we deal with someone like that?"

"Forewarned is forearmed," said Argent. "Hopefully..."

"We also have further information. His wife says they split up over him arranging a marriage between the daughter and the scion of a wealthy Saudi family. So he's definitely headed back home, and if he gets there will probably be immune to extradition."

"I have an idea," said Argent, thoughtfully. "I need to go talk with someone. George, I think I better fly there. You okay with waiting here for either me to get back or word to come in that they've found him again?"

"Go, I'm good," her partner said, nodding.

* * *

Argent walked into the Plexus through the rear entrance. The place was open, now; had been for a few days. Business was picking up. Another week, maybe two, and the downstairs would join the upstairs in being full of customers.

"Hi," Argent called to Amber. "Where's Cecilia? I need to talk to her."

"You mean in your official capacity?" said the other woman, frowning. She looked up at her partner's office. "Well, she was on the balcony just a moment ago. I don't know where she is now."

"I need to talk to her."

"You're welcome to wait. You're even more welcome to buy something." She grinned and leaned in close. "Your Nova coworker was in here a couple of days ago. Brian."

Amber shivered delicately, eyes half closed.

"If I had a friend who could change shapes - his and someone else's - I'd make a determined effort to be more than just friends," she said, in a low, breathy voice.

"Like you said, he's a coworker. While relationships aren't forbidden, they're discouraged."

"I'm just sayin'..."

Before either of them could say anything else Cecilia walked through the right stairwell door at the rear of the auditorium. Amber waved her over.

"What are your powers?" said Argent, without preamble.

For some reason, Argent had never established the "Mega-mind" rapport with Cecilia she did with most mentally augmented Novas. Oh, they communicated more efficiently than a pair of Baselines, but never had the Vaudeville routine effect going. Argent suspected this was because Cecilia wanted Amber to be able to keep up.

"Mostly Mega mental and perceptive abilities, with some minor physical enhancement," said Cecilia. "I also have telepathy, telekinesis, flight and can make myself unnoticeable. Why?"

Argent explained the situation with AlGaid.

"You want me to help stop this guy?" said Cecilia, looking uncertain. "I don't know..."

"Ceese!" said Amber, outraged. "It's a little girl!"

"You'd have to keep my name out of it," said Cecilia, reluctantly. "I don't want this guy's relatives and friends coming after me. I also don't want any press, because I don't want people thinking I'm some sort of super hero who'll help them out of the goodness of my heart."

"Agreed," said Argent, nodding. She looked thoughtfully at her for a moment. "You must have had some bad experiences already."

"I feel like I'm the first human, and all the apes can think of using my brain for is getting more and tenderer leaves," Cecilia said, tiredly.

"Don't sell leaves short," said Argent. "Even most Novas still need to eat."

* * *

The three of them spoke for a while, quietly discussing the situation. However, after only a few minutes Argent's cell phone buzzed in her pocket.

"They've found him," she told Cecilia and Amber. "He's driving along the river, west of Cincinnati. Probably trying to find a way to the airport."

"He'll have a long way to go for that," said Amber.

"My partner will be here in a few minutes to give us a ride. The state police have two unmarked cars following him at a considerable distance. He doesn't seem to have noticed them. The plan is to wait until he's in an isolated area, no others cars nearby, then stop him."

"All right," said Cecilia, with a sigh. "Let's go."

* * *

Cecilia couldn't fly as fast as a car with lights and siren could drive in a straight line, so even though the trip would have been more direct through the air it was quicker by road. Especially with Argent behind the wheel.

"Good God," said Cecilia, securely belted to the back seat and hanging on for dear life. "My reflexes are good enough that I'm just starting to realize we're doomed at the time you get us out of it."

"I've learned to just hang on and pray," said George.

Once on the appropriate road Argent really opened it up.

"Most people going this direction cross the river and use I-71 south of the river, instead of paralleling it to the north on this road," she explained. "Not a lot of traffic through here."

A call came in on their radio. Contact had been lost with both the unmarked cars following the kidnapper. A state police helicopter was being called in to look for the officers' vehicles and the suspect's car.

"Damn," said George. "Hope those guys are all right."

The cop cars were seen on the road, stopped. No sign of activity. A few moments later the helicopter pilot reported spotting the suspect's car.

"He's on a little lane-and-a-half road which dead ends at the river. Don't think he knows where he's going."

George called the 'copter and reported that they were ten minutes away.

"There's the unmarked cars," said Argent, slowing to just above the speed limit. "They look all right; just sitting there."

"You aren't stopping?" said Cecilia, as the gas pedal went back down.

"The little girl comes first," said George. "Besides, backup and paramedics are already on the way."

The helicopter reported the suspect's car turning around just as they saw the side road ahead. Argent slowed, turned down the road, then stopped. She parked the car diagonally at a place where going around would be very difficult.

"George, get the AR-15 out of the trunk and stay here," said Argent, as they got out. "Cecilia and I will walk down the road until we see him, and we'll see if she can stop him or defend me while I stop him."

She looked at the smaller woman, who chewed her lip nervously but nodded.

"Don't worry. I'll be in front. We'll pick a place where you'll have some cover, if we can."

"Better move," said George, with an ear to the radio. "He's already started back this way."

The two women lifted into the air. There were trees growing close on both sides of the narrow country road, their canopies often blocking their sight of the pavement. Ahead, they could see an expensive sedan heading at high speed back towards the main road.

"We better make our stand there," said Argent, pointing. "That curve up ahead would block George's view."

"I should have worn slacks," Cecilia muttered, holding her skirt as they began their descent.

They landed on the road. Hearing the car approaching, Argent tried to urge Cecilia towards the bushes but she refused.

"I'm tougher than I look."

"This is no time to be brave!" said Argent.

"There's no time to argue. Here he comes."

The sedan came roaring around the curve, hit the straightaway and started to accelerate. Argent pulled her gun and badge out, and aimed at the driver. He braked hard, stopping about fifty meters away and got out, looking furious. He shouted at them in Arabic.

"'Women?!'" Cecilia translated. "'They sent women after me?! How many insults must I bear?! No more will I show mercy! You whores will die, as a warning to your masters!'"

AlGaid looked startled, then sneered.

"Your Arabic is as flawed as your gender," he said, in English.

He made a dramatic gesture. Argent felt an odd pressure, and her senses fuzzed. She shook her head, but the feeling grew worse. Realizing she might not be able to resist him, she tossed her gun away. Hopefully he would have no idea she was more effective with just her hands, until too late.

AlGaid looked startled. Argent noticed that he was staring at Cecilia. She took advantage of this and jumped towards him, covering the distance in a single leap. He looked even more startled, and Argent felt the pressure on her mind return, doubled. She blacked out for a moment, but was on a ballistic path. She vaguely felt an impact, and suddenly the world came rushing back in. She was sprawled on the pavement, the man under her. He appeared to be unconscious. Cecilia ran up.

"He started to dodge but didn't make it!" she shouted. She slid to a stop, panting. "Hope you don't mind, but I was monitoring your thoughts, just in case. Didn't tell you 'cause I didn't want him to know."

"Is he out?" said Argent, quickly standing.

"Really out. His head hit pretty hard."

She turned and waved to George, who waved back and got in the FBI car. As he drove up Argent turned towards AlGaid's car.

"You watch him, while I check the girl."

Young Aamina was asleep in the back seat. She stirred and murmured when Argent tried to rouse her.

"Cecilia? Let's switch. I want to see if you can wake Aamina."

"Okay," said the elfin woman.

George pulled to a stop on the shoulder as Argent checked the suspect.

"He's really out," she told George, as he approached. She turned her head a bit, listening. "I hear sirens in the distance."

"Okay," Cecilia called to them, from inside the sedan. "I've removed the command he had in place to keep her asleep. She should be fine."

"Keep her in the car until the paramedics get her father," said George.

"Sorry!" Cecilia called back. "Should have thought of that."

The two FBI agents stepped away from AlGaid as the ambulance pulled up. The paramedics quickly set to work. From their actions and words, Argent got the impression that the man was in bad shape, and felt a pang of guilt.

Of course, she told herself, he's the one who mentally attacked me instead of dodging.

She and George moved back to help Cecilia distract the child. After the man was carried off Argent, George and Cecilia escorted the girl back to their car. They had to wait a bit for more FBI and State Police cars to arrive. Then they drove back to Cincinnati, to put the girl in safe hands until transport back to her mother could be arranged.

Part Twenty-Nine

"Hello," said Cecilia, her tone welcoming but noncommittal. "How are you this morning?"

She was on her way to the door to the stairs when Argent caught up to her. The FBI Agent hadn't even needed to call out to here; a wave was enough to get her to stop and wait. She was apparently genuinely curious.

"On suspension. AlGaid died. Mother and daughter are doing fine, though."

"Can't say I'll miss him," said Cecilia. "Despite what some people are saying, he wasn't crazy. Just ruthless, greedy, egotistical and from a culture with different priorities than ours. Very different priorities. Anyway, I only have a few minutes. I'm interviewing a new comic. He calls himself The Offender, and is an insult comic who pretends to be a Nova, complete with gaudy costume."

"I just wanted to warn you that you may be in for some unwanted attention from the FBI," said Argent, apologetically. "I should bear the brunt, though."

"What's the trouble?"

"I'm being criticized for bringing a civilian into a dangerous situation, even though that's allowed under certain circumstances. There's... also been some accusations that you did something to him to make sure he received a fatal injury. That part shouldn't be a problem, though. That's only from a couple of anti-Nova people in the upper ranks. If there's any repercussions I'll take the blame."

"His death wasn't your fault," said Cecilia, flatly. "Or mine. I was there, and not only saw what happened, I felt both your minds. He attacked you mentally instead of dodging. The result was typical of what happens when Novas without physical augments engage physically super Novas."

"Which may not matter to the people causing the trouble. Well, we'll see. The overall problem is that this isn't the first time - or the second - someone I've gone after has died or been seriously hurt. Even if I weren't so high profile in the Bureau for being its first Nova this would be closely looked at."

Cecilia gave Argent a long, evaluating look. The FBI agent was very familiar with the phenomenon, having done it herself, and even had it done to her by others previous to this. That didn't make the experience any more comfortable.

"I don't think you realize how influential you are," said the small woman, after a moment. "Among certain circles, that is. You don't notice mainly because most social phenomena don't interest you."

She pointed a finger at Argent's chest.

"You are the reason there are so many Novas in Cincinnati."

"So this is all my fault?" said Argent, joking.

"Yes. Because you came here and became a success - a low-profile one, but one noticed by Novas and people interested in Novas - you caused the city to appear attractive to other, low-profile Novas. As well as, unfortunately, some not so low-profile Novas. This would have happened anywhere you went, as long as you were successful in your employment. Which, being you, you almost certainly would have been."

"And your point?" said Argent, irritated that she couldn't see that without explanation.

"You have an obligation to those of us who came here because of you. As well as to other Novas trying to live lives as close to normal as they can. That obligation includes defending yourself vigorously and competently against these accusations."

"Oh," said Argent. She shrugged. "Already planning to."

"Good. If you need it, I can recommend legal help."

"Probably won't."

"Just keep the offer in mind."

"At least I'm getting to spend a lot more time with Andy," said Argent, with a smile.

"Hey, guys!" Amber called out to them, excitedly. "Come look at this new Nova singer, Florence!"

They moved over to join the small crowd watching the projection TV behind the bar. There was a news item about the female pop singer, who had Erupted when hit by lightning onstage during a thunder storm. She could now manipulate sound and light and had enough bouncy superhuman charisma to induce drooling. Just now, she was literally sparkling as she was interviewed.

"She. Is. Gorgeous!" said Argent, immediately smitten.

"Yeah," sighed Amber. "Too bad she's straight."

"Someone that gorgeous shouldn't be allowed to restrict herself to one gender for partners," said Cecilia, fervently. "And before you say anything, I'm not that gorgeous."

* * *

"Restricted to office work pending further investigation," muttered Argent, sourly, a few days later. "I'm a field agent!"

"Don't yell at me," said George, mildly. "I want you in the field. I sure don't want to have to take on the next walking tank by myself."

"I am not yelling," said Argent, tightly. "I'm..."

"Just talking in a very loud and angry voice," said Steve, as he walked into the pair's office. "Hey, folks."

"Steve!" said Argent, hurrying over to greet him with a rib-creaking hug.

"Hey, what about me?" said Verdigris, grinning as he followed his partner into the room.

He received a somewhat less vigorous greeting, but one which still left him literally breathless.

"What brings you reprobates here?" said George. "Cleveland get too boring?"

"We're tracking a pair of Nova thieves on a spree," said Steve, sobering quickly. "Stoner and Faith, real names unknown. Stoner can control solid substances, such as granite and concrete. Faith..."

"Let me say it!" said Verdigris, quickly, a big grin on his face.

"All right," said Steve, sighing and rolling his eyes.

"Faith can move mountains," said the Nova archer, deadly serious. "She's a big girl."

There was a moment of shock. Then a chorus of groans. Then Argent chased him out of the room.

"So, she increases her size?" said Argent, returning and acting as if nothing had happened. There was no sign of Verdigris.

"Yeah. We have security camera recordings, and fingerprints the size of that desk top."

"Wow," said Argent, doing the math.

"You think they're coming here."

"We're pretty sure of it. That diamond exposition next week is just the kind of high-yield target they go after. Also, they've been getting bolder and bolder. Last Friday they ripped off - literally - a major gold and silver dealership in Dayton. By which I mean Faith tore the roof off and used it to block the access road, then Stoner made the concrete in the walls of the safe liquify and flow away. Faith then simply parted the reinforcing bars and they were in."

"So she can't affect metal," said Argent, nodding. "Interesting."

"Or flesh, apparently. Not even trees."

"They make a good pair," said Verdigris. "Faith for the really big stuff; Stoner for the medium and fine stuff."

"Where are they fencing all this?" said George. "And how are they transporting it?"

"The fencing we don't know about, yet. As for the transport, we think Faith can shrink things with her."

"That could make recovery dicey," said Argent. "If they stay shrunk..."

"Yeah," said Verdigris. "We've been tracking them, hoping to find their full-size stash somewhere, but they never go to the same place twice. Our best guess is that Faith is simply carrying it around with her."

"So we need to capture her full-size," said Steve.

"I don't know if I'm going to be off restriction in time to help," said Argent.

"You better be," said Steve, seriously. "If we do ambush them, I doubt they'll let us use anti-tank weapons in the convention center."

* * *

"Welcome to my world," said Brian, grinning at Argent as he half leaned, half sat on her desk and folded his arms. "Stuck inside while everyone else is outside doing the interesting work."

"There's plenty of interesting work inside," said Argent, gesturing at a pile of folders on her desk, which had varying levels of age upon them. "I've already solved seven cold cases this week and it's only Wednesday."

"You know what I mean. I know it's worse for you. You were trained for field work."

"Speaking of different worlds," said Argent, smirking and changing the subject, "I have a couple of friends - well, acquaintances - who heard about you and let me know in no uncertain terms that they would love to get to know you... in the biblical sense."

"I'm not surprised," said Brian, with a deep sigh.

"Oh, come on," she said, teasing him. "Are you telling me you wouldn't enjoy sport sex with a Nova and her Baseline but gorgeous partner??"

"Wait... You mean there's a pair of lesbians who want..."

"I'm talking about Cecilia and Amber."

"Okay, I can believe they're open minded and the fact that I'm normally male wouldn't bother them, and I'd definitely be interested both in sex with those two and being taught the ropes, so to speak, but..."

Argent gave him a long, evaluating look, making him wince.

"I hate it when you do that. That X-Ray Mind bit."

"Are you telling me," said Argent, slowly and carefully, "that with all the time you've had your powers you haven't had sex as a woman yet?"

"Well, no," said Brian, shifting in place uncomfortably. "I'm kinda... shy."

"Well, I am, too. Although in my case it's more gun shy. When you're short, blond, cute and stacked it's easy to get a reputation, and having people constantly hit on you tends to be off putting."

"Oh," said Brian, looking thoughtful. "I can see that. I guess I just assumed that you'd have all the lovers you wanted. As Sarah because of the way you look, and as Argent because..."

"Because?" she said, raising an eyebrow when he hesitated.

"Because guys could then brag about conquering you," said Brian, with a tired sigh.

"Trust me," said Argent, sourly, "they'd brag about conquering Sarah, too. Women as well as men."

"No, I mean... You're such a badass that being able to get you - Argent - in the sack would rack up - pun not intended - major points on the macho meter."

"Huh," she said, startled. "I hadn't thought of that. It would explain much of the flirting and advances by men - and women - since my eruption whom I wouldn't have expected it from."

She grinned up at him.

"I still can't believe you've never taken advantage of the opportunity to have sex as a woman."

"Does by myself count?" he asked, smirking.

"No. It's much more fun with a partner. Besides, if you didn't grow up as a girl with girls you're more likely to hurt yourself than get off the first few times."

"Yes, of course," he said, wincing and rolling his eyes. "I'm not a virgin. I've just never had sex as a woman. By the way, I am very glad George isn't here just now."

"I could fix you up with someone," said Argent, teasing again. "I'm not sure Cecilia and Amber would be a good first date, though. Especially since they know you can change others as well as yourself. Among other things, I have a feeling Amber would definitely like being a man, and Cecilia would not agree to being her first victim. Probably too much for you to take your first time. But I know some lesbians and bi gals who are tamer while still being willing to try new things."

"Like I said, I'm kinda shy," said Brian, firmly. "I want to know someone before I have sex with them."

Argent, looking thoughtful, was about to say something, when George entered. He did not look happy.

"Got our next assignment. You're going to love this."

"And that's my cue to leave," said Brian, heading for the door.

Part Thirty

"Whoa, momma," said Argent, under her breath, as the woman walked by.

"Wow," said Andy. "That girl has really big bazooms."

"I'll say," was Argent's smirking response. She started, as she realized something. "Uh, no, Andy, bad boy. You're just getting to the age where remarks like that stop being cute and start being offensive."

"Okay," he said, mildly.

He still presented an odd mixture of maturity and childishness. Argent had long realized the latter was compensation for his abrupt physical development. He missed being a child and so often acted younger than he was. Looking the way he did, that led people to think he was an adult with the mind of a child. Argent and the Kaders were working with a therapist on this, so far with little result.

"Well, I'm afraid it's time to head back," said Argent. "George and I are on special duty tomorrow, and I want to try and sleep tonight."

"Fly me?" said Andy, eagerly.

"All right," said Argent, yielding to his incongruous puppy-dog expression with good-natured laughter.

She grabbed his hand. They jumped into the air together, with Argent then using her flight to keep them going. They left the small, green park behind as they soared into the air.

* * *

"Oh, joy," said George, with mock enthusiasm. "Exploring the bowels of Cincinnati."

The FBI agents had been warned to wear old, sturdy clothes and rubber boots, and bring flashlights and hardhats. Most of the tunnel sections were dry, but just now they were sloshing through water almost ankle deep.

"Need to report this," said Sam, the Utilities employee who had the job of escorting them. "It's just rain water and condensation but the drains are supposed to handle this. How is it you two got this duty, anyway?"

"The city formally requested the FBI's Cincinnati Nova Operations to check for illegal Nova activity down here*," said Argent, sourly. "I think they just want someone to scare the indigents away."

And since I'm still being punished, she added silently,- though they don't call it that - we get the duty.

"Oh, the drug addicts and homeless won't be here," said Sam, confidently. "They mostly stay in the old fallout shelter."

"There are a lot of very nasty video games which start out like this," said Steve, actually sounding worried.

"Well, Central Parkway is just overhead, so these tunnels have to be kept maintained," said Sam, "and they also need to be able to check that big water main pipe. That's why we have lights and ventilation available at the throw of a switch, at least in this section. Just wished the radios worked."

"It's interesting to see how the project just... stopped," said Argent, shining her light into a shadow. "They have wooden crossties bolted to the floor, but no rails have ever touched them."

There was actually only one tunnel, but a concrete wall down the middle divided this into two sections. A single track had been planned to run in each side, one for northbound traffic, one for southbound. Frequent openings in the wall between the two sides made cross-access easy.

"Here's the next box," said Sam, pulling out a huge bundle of keys and walking to a switchbox on the wall.

He opened the padlock and threw the switch. Lights came on ahead of them.

"See? Only a few bulbs out. And no monsters."

George muttered under his breath, and Argent grinned.

The next hour and a half passed uneventfully. With Sam giving a guided tour they took their time walking down the tunnel. Despite his grousing, even George found the history of the old dig interesting. However, they eventually came across something more interesting than they were expecting.

"Oh, that's not good," said Sam, stopping as his light swept over fresh dirt and broken concrete. "This isn't a collapse! It was dug!"

"What's in this area?" said Argent, suddenly both alert and suspicious.

Sam fumbled with his map, George finally taking his flashlight so the older man could use both hands.

"OK, I see," said Argent, looking over Sam's shoulder. She pointed. "Look. The Convention Center is that way, only about a block."

"I don't..." said Sam.

"We got a notice a few days ago about a couple of Novas who might be in the area," said George. "One of 'em can manipulate rock and concrete."

"There's a large precious metal, jewelry and gem exhibit in the Convention Center this weekend," said Argent.

She straightened and looked around.

"Where's the nearest exit?"

"Well, there's one we just passed a little ways back," said Sam, "but it's closed at the top with a heavy steel plate."

"Even if it's welded in place, I can open it," said Argent, confidently.

As soon as they were back out in the open, Sam radioed his bosses, and George his and Argent's.

"Cops are rolling."

"We're closer, both physically and chronologically," said Argent, taking off at a run deliberately slowed to Baseline range.

"Great," said George, setting off after her.

One reason George had been assigned as Argent's partner was his high level of physical fitness. He caught her and kept even with her all the way to the nearest entrance to the Convention Center. He then caught his breath while Argent looked and listened through the door.

"Nothing," she said, scowling.

"So do we wait, or are we sure enough..."

He was interrupted by a call on their radios that security guards inside weren't responding to their own radios.

"That answers that," said Argent, yanking the locked door open. "Alarms are off, too."

They hurried in, but with proper procedure, guns out and ready. As they entered a large, open area Argent abruptly stopped, raising her hand. She gestured for George to move right, while she went left. Her choice was deliberate; she could tell there was some activity in her direction. If they were up against two Novas, she wanted George at a distance.

She soon came across a pair of costumed women dragging a large sack down a hall, towards an exit.

"Stop right there! FBI!"

They looked up at her, both momentarily startled into immobility. Then the one on the left - in the mostly grey catsuit with a full-face mask - made a sweeping gesture with her hands.

The floor - just the actual concrete, with the tile falling away and the reinforcing steel staying behind - rose up in a wave, which raced towards Argent. The FBI agent jumped over the wave, only to be caught a glancing blow by another, bigger one just behind it. She fell, her gun spinning away. Ignoring it, she shoved herself back into the air.

"She's a Nova!" yelled Faith. She was the one wearing the lime green and lemon yellow Spandex outfit, obviously with nothing underneath. Her domino mask did little to actually conceal her features. She began growing, but not much, constrained by the hallway.

"I've got her! You get the loot to the hideout and I'll meet you there later!"

"'Loot'?! 'Hideout'?!" said Argent, as she swooped at Stoner. "Do you practice your banter by watching old movies?"

Another wave, taller, rose up towards her. Argent climbed over it, swung around to Stoner's right, feinted a punch with her right hand, then caught the woman with her left. Argent had no idea how tough Stoner was, so this was barely harder than a Baseline could throw, and to her lower ribs.

Stoner grunted and staggered a bit, barely noticing.

Okay, I can cut loose, then, thought Argent, smiling.

She noticed that Faith - about double normal size - was squeezing through a double doorway to the outside, dragging the bag - still normal size - after her.

Argent lunged forward and swung, but Stoner was paying attention. She quickly stepped back and made a sweeping gesture with her right hand. The floor moved up in a wave to catch the strike. Argent's fist crashed through, showering the woman with bits of concrete, surprising her. Unfortunately, even with that the wave had enough momentum to toss Argent across the room, then bury her. By the time she had freed herself from the concrete the other woman had recovered.

Argent stood, making a dramatic pose as chunks of concrete fell away from her. Stoner raised her hands... and was tasered from behind by George.

"Handcuff her to those stair rails," said Argent, pointing. "She can't affect metal and hopefully will need time to free herself with concrete."

George was too slow; Argent quickly hauled Stoner into place while her partner got out a pair of special Nova-use cuffs.

"Now we have to catch Faith," said Argent, turning and hurrying off.

"You can't be too worried if you're going slow enough for me to keep up," George panted.

"You can't be having too much trouble keeping up if you can talk," said Argent. "She won't be hard to find. She's practically Day-Glo^TM."

They had no trouble finding Faith. Because she was currently taller than some of the buildings around her. The large bag of "loot" was tucked into her belt, hardly noticeable.

"Oh my gaaaaaahhhhhdd..." said George, stupefied. "They're gonna have to make a new ZIP Code just for her."

She'd had the bad fortune to exit just as Cincinnati police cars were pulling up. Instead of ducking back inside or trying to hide, she'd gone upscale. The cops were shooting at her. Faith was grinning, ignoring the sting of the tiny bullets - which couldn't even penetrate her skin - and stomping on their cars. None of the police were hurt, yet, but not because she was being careful.

One of the uniforms saw Argent and Steve, and pointed, yelling. The police began a full-speed retreat, on foot, abandoning their cars... and the FBI agents. Faith turned, looked, saw Argent, scowled, and changed course.

"Oh, fuck me," said George, staring up at the giant, descending foot.

"Move!" yelled Argent, tackling him out of the way.

They hit hard. Then the foot hit harder. Fortunately, well to one side of their new location. Still, the debris the impact kicked up showered them, painfully in George's case.

Faith turned back to her original course and strode away, apparently believing them dead.

"Let's get after her," said Argent, standing.

"Can't," said George, pale and gasping.

"What's wrong?"

"When you threw yourself on top of me you broke my left leg."

"Oh, God, George... I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's better than getting squashed." He shivered, turning even paler. "Go. Stop her before she kills anyone else."

"You're going into shock."

"So elevate my good leg, cover me with something warm and get after her."

The break appeared to be a simple fracture of the thighbone. Argent worried, because of how quickly he was going into shock, that he might have other injuries, perhaps even that the broken bone had nicked an artery, but had no way to tell. As George firmly told her, though, he was a cop, and there were civilians in danger. She did what she could for him and then, reluctantly, leapt after Faith.

Argent had no qualms about attacking someone from behind. Especially when that someone was endangering people. Faith was a clear and present danger to all in the area, carelessly crushing anything under her feet, each of which was larger - and much heavier - than a city bus. She was also causing huge amounts of damage to the pavement. Argent made her first strike a good one. She leapt hard and landed a solid kick low on the back of Faith's head, staggering the giantess, then kept pounding until she not only went down but stopped moving.

Panting, sweating, Argent stood on Faith's back for a few seconds. She was finally spurred to move when the titanic Nova started shrinking. Within a few moments, she was normal size again, the bag beside her. Only then did Argent realize the former giantess had fallen on a couple of vehicles.

Argent quickly peeled the car and the SUV open. Fortunately, the people inside had suffered only minor injuries. Faith had been heavy when she landed on them, but her weight had been spread over a large area. Argent started treatment, then stayed with them until paramedics arrived. By the time she got back to George he was already being loaded into an ambulance.

* Cincinnati has the largest abandoned subway tunnel in the US: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/CincinnatiSubway

Part Thirty-One

Fortunately, in spite of how quickly George had gone into shock, his injuries weren't life threatening. Still, he was going to be in the hospital for a while, then off duty for a while longer, and stuck in the office for longer yet. Special Agent Johnson would have to assign Argent a stand-in partner, but that could wait. For the moment there were more urgent problems to deal with.

"You're talking about a metric fuckton of bad shit coming down on us because of this!" said Steve.

"Why on us?" said Verdigris. "This wasn't even our case. It just happened that two FBI agents were in the area of the robbery and were able to stop it."

"Yeah, but the local cops don't like that the Bureau is cleaning up for them with their race relation problems," said Steve. "Or that we made them look bad - never mind that they were the ones caught running on security cameras when Faith took her little walk - in this arrest. They're leaking rumors to the press, which are apparently made up purely to make the FBI look bad. For instance, they're saying that Faith was an FBI prisoner being transported to a federal facility and escaped due to the incompetence of the agents responsible for her."

"That explains some of the weird calls I've had from the press," said Johnson, looking concerned. "Well, now that I know this is going on I can be proactive and cut this off before it goes any farther."

"I certainly hope so," said Argent, grimacing. "There will be enough valid repercussions from the people injured when Faith fell on their vehicles. We certainly don't need trouble from baseless rumors."

"Meanwhile, I have a request to pass on to you," said Johnson, handing a manilla envelope to Argent.

She opened the flap, took out the thin sheaf of stapled papers inside and read through them.

"Interesting." She looked at Johnson. "In addition to the purely scientific benefit, this also serves the purpose of getting me out of the city for a few days."

"Purely coincidental," said Johnson, with a slight smile.

"I notice participation is voluntary. Well, I am definitely interested. If you have no objections?"

"Please, go ahead. You can be back here in a few hours - even under your own power - if there is an emergency."

* * *

"Do you have to be such a cold fish?" said Verdigris, sourly, as the two of them left the meeting. "I realize you dykes have a reputation for..."

"Wait, what?!"

"You're a lesbian, right? Now..."

"For the record, I'm bi, but I prefer guys."

"Riiiight," said Verdigris, with a smirk. "You've never even given me a second look."

"I should have said I prefer men," said Argent, raising an eyebrow.

"Ow! Zinger! Maybe there's hope for you yet."

"My sexual alignment has nothing to do with my detachment," said Argent. "That comes from my Mega-Intelligence."

"So you're saying smart people can't be passionate."

"I'm saying smart people know when to be passionate."

* * *

The third and final day of Argent's participation in the study was more instructive to her than the examiners. This was not by accident; she had struck a rapport with several of them, and found that they were eager to share what they had learned. Also, as one of the first known Novas and an experienced LEO, she was respected by them.

"There is definitely a psychological component guiding some Eruptions," said Dr. Hertsfeld.

"There definitely was in mine," said Argent. "I was wishing that I was more impressive and capable, so the Good Ol' Boys couldn't dismiss me so easily."

"Secret wishes, not-so-secret wishes, personality traits, all can be seen to influence how a Nova's powers develop in some cases," said Dr. Hertsfeld. "For others, though, we can find no such link."

"So does it only apply to some people, or to all but not clearly for some?"

"I have no idea," said Hertsfeld, with a laugh, spreading his hands. "Anyway, getting around to your evaluation, finally, you gave us some interesting results."

"Oh?" said Argent, feigning mild surprise.

"There are Novas known to be stronger or faster or tougher or smarter than you," said Hertsfeld. "None of them exceed you in all categories. Very few exceed you in even three of those. You have no inbuilt ranged attack, while many Novas - roughly a bit more than half - do. However, you are the only Nova we are aware of who has that odd parrying ability. Also, you are the only one we know of who gained the ability to fly significantly after her Eruption. That odd hibernation of yours... We are at a loss as to what to make of it."

"I've been training my ward in the same techniques, in the hope that he can also learn to get rid of Taint," said Argent. "So far he hasn't even been able to perceive his taint. Of course, he may simply not have a significant amount. His change of form could be completely independent. Taint tends to occur when Novas push past their normal limits, and I doubt he's ever done that. He simply hasn't needed to."

* * *

"That was one productive trip," said Argent, obviously satisfied, as she spoke with her boss on her first day back. "I hope things went half as well here. Are you still having trouble with the city?"

"Don't worry," said Johnson, with a tight smile. "Steve and I had a 'come to Jesus' meeting with the Mayor and he's agreed to stop the nonsense."

"Good news."

"Meanwhile, I have a bulletin about a local Nova criminal who calls himself Dragon. He's mostly bluff and bluster so far, with a record of misdemeanors and petty crimes. Our profiler thinks it's only a matter of time before he gets ambitious or angry enough to go further."

Argent reached for the folder, and did her once-through speed read.

"Okay. I'll keep him in mind."

* * *

"I'm very concerned about Argent," said Thorvald, scowling. "The report from the evaluation group confirms what we already knew and expands on it in a worrying fashion. She's powerful, she's effective, and she's uncontrolled."

Simons nodded slowly, thinking, as he leaned back in his chair and rocked slightly.

No more walks in the woods for them. They now had secure offices for their plotting and scheming. Very nice secure offices. There were certain advantages of getting in on the ground floor of a major enterprise.

"Influencing people to attack her hasn't worked, largely because that restricts the selection," said Simons, still thoughtful. "Trying to ruin her reputation hasn't worked, because she's low-profile; public opinion doesn't matter to her, and those who know her - including her boss - won't believe the lies."

"Time for a different approach, then," said Thorvald, nodding. "We use several stages of intermediaries to hire an elite. A major, world-class, serious threat, elite."

"I have a list," said Simons, sitting up and reaching for his keyboard.

* * *

The Mega-Chat Room was buzzing. This had been set up as a think tank by a Mega-intelligence Nova with an affinity for computers. Anyone who could find out about it and figure a way in was welcome. Unfortunately, high intelligence by itself didn't guarantee polite, productive conversation. The organizer had quickly set up several rooms for specific topics or private groups. Not only did this reduce conflict, but the smaller sizes of participants made both brainstorming and detailed discussion easier.

Argent was frequently reminded in these chats that there were many people - a few of them even Baseline - in the world who were smarter than her.

Hammersmith: I hate to sound like a conspiracy theorist, but there is clear evidence of deliberate efforts to kill Novas.

Silversmith: No argument. No surprise, either. Novas scare people. I have personal knowledge of several unexpected deaths, some known to be caused deliberately. These could all be accounted for by individual bigots or small hate groups. No conspiracy needed.

They often filled the buffers during these heated discussions, despite the best efforts of several gadgeteers. To people with faster than human thought processes the waits could be aggravating.

Firelover: I repeat my argument for sphinxes. People who are riddles even to Meg-Int Novas. Too many coincidences, too much evidence of a fortuitous word here or nudge there.

CursedPanda: Evidence is not proof. I'm not disagreeing with your findings, just needing more to be convinced.

Firelover: Not claiming one group is behind all anti-Nova operations. Just that there is a particular subset which fits a pattern of central coordination.

CursedPanda: Again, agree with you about the evidence, but not seeing anything conclusive.

Hammersmith: Agreed. Suggest (again) we pool data.

Previous attempts at this had been rejected by the majority. There was general agreement that sharing data too early could result in cross-contamination. Also, people convincingly arguing in support of their findings could result in other findings being wrongly rejected. Now, though...

Silversmith: We've had months to independently investigate and gather information.

Firelover: I agree, reluctantly. However, we should poll all members of this forum. If for no other reason, to make sure no-one feels left out.

They all agreed to that, and started sending out messages. Within half an hour all but two had replied. All felt that the time had come to share what they knew.

The process made use of a protocol set up by users of the chat room, who included the founder of the site. Whom they made sure to notify of what was being done. They decided not to tell anyone not a member of this forum.

The data came pouring in. There was no agreed format; it came as plain text files, fancy proprietary document format files, spreadsheet files, audio and video files, and more than one was pure binary. Everything was heavily encrypted, beyond the general measures used for the chat room. Even those in this group needed time to decipher, peruse and correlate. They stayed logged in, though, if only to ask clarifying questions.

Finally, they all had the information in formats they could understand. There was a long silence.

Hammersmith: Better. Much better. All but conclusive that some small, influential group is acting against Novas. Still no information on who or why.

Firelover: Agreed. They hide behind too many layers.

CursedPanda: I am impressed by the redundancy. Confirmation from multiple sources.

Silversmith: To find out who, we may need to know why.

Hammersmith: Knew you were a cop. :-)

The discussion continued for hours, some members logging off for various reasons and others logging on. Argent reluctantly had to drop out as dawn approached.

Silversmith: Duty calls. Let me know if you reach any hard conclusions. If we haven't all been nuked before then.

SuperSnooper: Don't say that. Even in jest. Too scared it might come true.

Part Thirty-Two

While George was laid up Argent had been assigned Martin Adams as a temporary partner. He was her first partner younger than her, and was training to be a super liaison for the FBI in another city. He was eager and competent, and had a few years of field experience. None of it with Novas.

"Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored," said Adams, sourly.

"Bored is good," said George, sitting with his foot on a low stool. The cast was bulky enough he couldn't fit it under his desk, so he had to sit canted. "Bored means no-one is shooting at you. Or throwing lightning bolts."

While he was on office duty George had been appointed Johnson's special assistant in charge of Nova coordination. Just now, that meant Argent and the Morphologist. This wasn't make-work. George was expected to comb through reports and find evidence of Nova activity.

"Look, I'm not a rookie, I know better than to wish for excitement. The problem is, my promotion depends on me seeing super action and learning how to operate in this theater."

"There's a lead I was planning to check on later in the week," said Argent. "We could go check it now. If they need us they can call us."

"That sounds great," said Adams, flashing her a boyish grin. "Even routine police work will help, if it's Nova related."

* * *

Three hours later, his tune had changed.

"You didn't tell me we were going to a biker bar," said Adams, accusingly. "I know you weren't in any danger, but I'm not super-human!"

"You've got to learn to trust your partner," said Argent, firmly. "Working with Novas doesn't just mean learning how to deal with Nova criminals, but what sort of support a Nova partner can give you. The big problem there is that every Nova has different capabilities, so you have to understand and keep in mind what the abilities of the person you're partnered with are."

"Okay, point taken," said Adams, nodding. He laughed. "I had no idea you could be so intimidating. You didn't even have to show your powers."

"The big secret is not to act tough, but just to be tough," said Argent. "Be calm, unfazed, confident but not challenging. If you don't challenge them and don't respond to their challenges, they usually don't start anything. Of course, it helps the confidence part if you are superhuman, or have a superhuman partner."

He nodded again. They rode in silence for a while - Argent, as usual, driving - when her phone started buzzing.

"I would be uneasy with anyone else talking on a cell while driving in heavy traffic," said Adams, grinning.

The caller was George.

"There's a Nova tearing up your favorite junk yard," he said. "I'm calling you instead of using the radio because we don't want to alert whoever it is that you're on the way."

"Gotcha!" said Argent, spinning the wheel around. "Any idea how serious this is?"

"No. Security guard called and said an unknown Nova was bending and breaking things and throwing stuff around. Probably somebody who just Erupted. He didn't want to go near them so called us instead, knowing we had a special Nova unit."

"Probably wise. We'll be there in a few. Call you when I have anything."

The junk yard was over half an hour away from their location at the time of the call. Argent, not feeling pressured, drove only a bit over the speed limit. They pulled into the junk yard to find the gates open, no-one present, and all still. They were alert as they slowly got out of their car, looking and listening. This was on a Sunday, when the yard was closed, but there should have been at least one security guard. They began walking slowly towards the office building, Adams with his coat pushed back too uncover his holster but leaving the gun in it.

One reason Argent liked shopping here was that they didn't just handle cars and appliances. A significant part of their business involved scrapping railroad equipment. She also felt a bit of an obligation, since she had caused some damage testing herself here shortly after her own Eruption. There were piles of massive pieces of scrap steel, as well as entire rail cars waiting for disassembly.

Adams jumped as a security guard rounded the building to their right, gun out and pointed at them. Argent analyzed the situation, noted Adams' response, decided the guard was probably legit but nervous and was glad Adams didn't go for his gun despite the surprise. He had good judgement.

"Put your hands up! Now!" the security guard yelled.

"I'd like to point out that our badges are in plain sight," said Argent.

"Hands! Up!"

Argent sighed and raised her hands. After a moment of hesitation Adams did the same. The hourly uniform moved in, carefully, and handcuffed and patted down first Adams then Argent. He took their guns and badges, then stepped back and used his radio, covering them the whole time.

"This is McHenry. I got two fake FBI agents."

"Fake?!" said Adams, outraged. "Do those badges look fake to you?!"

"Yeah, they do," said McHenry. They could actually hear the sneer in his voice. "What kind of name is Argent?"

"That's her na..."

"You shut up!" yelled the guard, smacking Adams on the back of the head.

"Okay, this has gone far enough," said Argent, realizing something was very wrong here.

She snapped the cuffs and took McHenry's gun away from him. She also recovered her and Adams' guns and badges. The guard gaped at her, not sure what had just happened.

"If you ever watched or read the news, you'd know the local FBI office has had a Nova agent for several years, now."

Other security guards were running in, guns drawn and yelling warnings. Argent had a sudden dread feeling a shootout was about to start. She was moving towards Adams, prepared to protect him from flying bullets. However, someone else was at least as aggravated as her over the situation and less forbearing. As well as more callous.

The body of a wrecked flatcar landed on the newcomers, killing them instantly and very gorily. McHenry spun around at the crash, saw the carnage, and screamed. Argent lunged forward and swatted aside the railcar axle headed for him. She looked up at the figure standing on top of a skinned diesel-electric locomotive. He stared back, coldly, calmly, evaluating her.

Despite the surprise of the attack, Argent recognized the man. A French elite who called himself Tueur. Which meant killer or butcher.

"You two get under cover!" she yelled, as the attacker turned and leapt away. "That's a powerful physical Nova, and he's a killer. Call in all the backup you can."

Argent didn't bother looking to see if they complied. She knew Adams would, and would try to help the security guard. Argent darted left, around the pile of shredded scrap the man had gone over. She was hit in the chest by another axle.

She was caught flat-footed. The guy had guessed which way she would go, and been waiting for her. The impact sent her flying backwards, through the body of a wheel-less box car and into a pile of rusty wheels, scattering them with multiple, almost musical ringing sounds.

Argent was badly bruised and more than a little stunned, but not seriously hurt. As she stood and tried to shake some sense back into her head, she found herself wondering if Tueur were related to Fuoco. Realizing she was dazed and thinking in random associations instead of focusing on the fight, Argent shook her head again, took a deep breath, and straightened. She could hear Tueur moving around, flanking her on the left. He was moving quietly, but not super-quietly, perhaps unaware of her enhanced hearing. She decided to set a trap of her own.

Argent hadn't been very good at track and field in college, but she had been pretty good at Frisbee. She grabbed one of the heavy steel wheels and, as Tueur rounded the end of the pile of wire to her left, flipped it at her attacker. Then followed with a baker's dozen more. Tueur was definitely off balance, now. Only two of her projectiles had actually connected and those only in a grazing fashion, but he was so busy dodging that Argent was able to gain the initiative. As the final wheel was hurling towards him she took her extra action and blurred in. She hopped the last bit of distance, planted her feet, and delivered the hardest reverse punch she had ever thrown.

Tueur flew backwards too fast for the human eye to follow. He impacted the decrepit switching locomotive the junkyard used so hard he not only went through the sheet metal side but struck the actual engine beyond with enough force to rock the massive vehicle onto its far wheels. The locomotive hesitated a moment, then tipped back, slamming down hard enough to break the suspension, shove the rail completely off the trackbed and send ballast flying. Tueur wound up sprawled face down on the ground.

"Dude!" said Adams to Argent, as he came running towards her. "You punched out a train!"

"Question is," said Argent, panting and holding her ribs, "did I punch him out?"

She hadn't. As she warily approached, Tueur suddenly lunged upwards. He started an uppercut from ground level, and in spite of Argent being alert missed so narrowly that the sonic boom his fist made hurt her ears. The momentum of his strike carried him into the air... and Argent realized he couldn't fly.

"Stay back!" she yelled at Adams, as she leapt after him.

Argent tried to play the same game she had with the Baron, striking from below to keep him in the air. Unfortunately, he was watching. Each attempt he countered with a kick or punch. Argent realized she was being hurt as much as he was by these exchanges. Worse, when he finally came down they were no longer in the junk yard, but a large, empty lot where several houses had been demolished. Nothing here to throw.

They stood for a bit, catching their breaths. Then Argent straightened, surging with determination... and glowing silver. Tueur stared, startled. Argent blurred in.

She caught him not completely by surprise, but close enough that he was only able to block the kick she landed, and not dodge it. The blow sent him sliding and tumbling across the empty lot. He was just getting back to his feet when Argent came at him again. He managed to drop his shoulder and catch her in the gut, the jolt of their collision driving him backwards, feet digging deep furrows in the weedy dirt.

Argent staggered away, then barely covered as he counterattacked.

They went back and forth several times, neither able to hold the initiative. They were both straining, pushing themselves as hard as they could. Then Tueur push himself harder than he could.

He screamed, and flared.

Argent backed away, alarmed.

"Stop! You're overloading! You'll die!"

If he heard her, it was too late. Or maybe he didn't care. He staggered towards her, glowing like a magnesium flare as he threw a clumsy punch. Argent leapt towards him and delivered a hard right cross, decking the elite. Recoil drove her backwards. She landed, stumbled, regained her footing. The glow seemed to be fading. Cautiously, Argent lowered her arms, realizing that the whole front of her body was blistered, her clothing burned away.

Where Tueur had stood there was a glowing hole in the ground. Just beyond it, he lay, still smoking, badly burned but still alive. Argent, despite her hurts, was satisfied.

That's one that didn't die on me.

Part Thirty-Three

This segment is a major departure from my usual writing. In keeping with the idea that Flamma Argentea is more "real world" than my Masks stories I am including her world's version of the events of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and subsequent developments. This is not any sort of political statement, but an attempt to explore how the world might be different if superhumans had recently entered it.

"He was supposed to only target Argent!" said Thorvald, kicking a trashcan into the far wall.

"Don't mess up my office!" said Simons, though he also felt like kicking something. "He was told to avoid civilian casualties. He probably thought the security guards didn't count as civilians. Anyway, he's beyond our reach, now."

"Any idea how she does this? This is the second or third Nova she's caused to overheat like that."

"In her reports she states that all she does is fight them until they push themselves too far. Obvious nonsense, of course."

Thorvald gave a sour laugh.

"Maybe we should leave her alone, and just let her keep eliminating Novas for us!"

"Which brings up another question," said Simons. "Do we eliminate Tueur?"

Thorvald thought for a moment, then shook his head.

"He's still potentially useful. Wait until he's stable, then arrange his transfer to one of our secure facilities."

* * *

"This was a set-up," said Johnson. "A man and a woman waving FBI badges and resembling Argent and Adams showed up, told the security guards to leave due to a Nova problem. Turns out one of the guards - it's a contract service, employed by the junk yard as well as several other businesses in the area - is a retired FBI agent, and he called here to confirm. This was actually before Steve called Argent. The security guard was told our Nova unit was on the other side of the city. The guard notified his boss, who called in as many guards as were available and came back to capture the fake FBI agents. Meanwhile, some unknown person at the junkyard called here to report a Nova problem. By the time anyone noticed the conflicting phone calls your fight was over."

"Someone was targeting me, and wanted to avoid collateral damage," said Argent, as impressed as she was angry. "They even knew I had a different partner just now. Pretty clever. The fact that the one guard twigged didn't change the outcome for me or Tueur, but unfortunately did get several people killed. Just bad luck on the part of an alert and dedicated employee."

Argent was lying in a hospital bed, again. Her injuries weren't serious, but extensive enough to keep her overnight for observation.

"Someone was deliberately trying to kill you," said Adams, with rapidly rising outrage.

"That's hardly a surprise, considering how many people I've pissed off in the past few years. It's not even the first time."

"I don't see how you can take this so calmly."

"Because this attempt is over. Oh, I'll be careful, in case they think I'm more hurt than I am, but from previous experience I figure they'll wait at least a few months before trying again."

"I've assigned agents to keep guard," said Johnson. "The hospital has also agreed to increase security while you're here. So, rest, get well, and get back on the job as soon as you can."

* * *

Argent was severely bored. She was lying in the hospital again, with nothing to do but watch television. Worse, she had slept recently and so had barely managed a doze during the night. Now here she was, nothing to do, unable to sleep, waiting for the doctors to clear her for release.

She was idly flipping from channel to channel, watching various morning programs, when something made her stop. And watch. Her blood going cold

An airliner had hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center in New York. Argent sighed and shook her head. Despite all the safeguards in modern aircraft, they still crashed. This one had, unfortunately, hit a very heavily occupied target. She hoped the Novas in the area could get the survivors out before the fires spread. All that jet fuel, and office paper...

Over the next fifteen minutes there was, indeed, coverage of both baseline and Nova efforts to handle the crisis. Then came news that another airliner had been seen flying low over the city, headed for the South Tower.

Argent knew, now, that this was no accident. It was an act of war. No, it was a murder of innocents by cowards who knew they could not win a war against the US. She sat up, reaching for the bedside phone.

"What?!" said Johnson. "Hold on."

There were several minutes of background sounds, both of multiple voices and activities. Meanwhile, the news revealed that several Novas working together had managed to divert the plane from the South Tower at the last moment, but it came apart in flight. Only a few passengers were saved. In spite of their heroic efforts, the Novas were unable to prevent aircraft debris - much of it on fire - from raining down over a widely scattered area, adding to the property damage, injuries and deaths.

Argent was shaken out of her frozen mental state by her boss picking his phone back up.

"Stay where you are," said Johnson.

"I... wasn't planning to go anywhere."

"I know you. You were thinking about it. You're staying here. Besides being injured, this may be wider spread than we've seen so far. I want you here in case something local happens."

"Yes, sir," said Argent, unable to keep a trace of protest out of her voice.

Forty minutes later news spread that yet another airliner had crashed into the Pentagon. A few Novas already on their way to New York diverted there. After a bit of dithering, the military let them help.

Through incredible work by both Novas and baselines, the fire in the North Tower was extinguished. Emergency structural reinforcement barely prevented the tower from collapsing. Similar efforts at the Pentagon were less significant, but Nova efforts still helped reduce the death toll and damage.

News now began coming in that a fourth airliner had been highjacked, but landed safely on a Pennsylvania Interstate through the efforts of the passengers, one of them a Nova. Those on board had already heard of the other highjackings and the resulting crashes, so when the terrorists diverted the flight the crew and passengers took action. Three passengers - one of them the Nova - and the pilot were killed, and twenty others were injured, but the plane was saved, as well as the majority of passengers and crew, plus the target, which may have been the White House. None of the highjackers survived. One unusual aspect of this part of the terrorist attack was that much of it was reported over cell phones as it happened. Those who took the plane back from the terrorists were already being hailed as heroes, both the lone Nova and the Baselines.

When a count was finally taken, over 1500 were dead and nearly that many seriously injured. Many of those were firefighters and police officers. At least three of the dead were Novas. Estimates were that twice that many might have died without Nova efforts.

* * *

"This is insane!" shouted Thorvald, waving his arms as he stalked around his office. "How can this happen! There was no warning, no cause..."

"Our contacts say the CIA had information which could have stopped the attacks," said Simons, "but didn't tell the President because they don't like him. There was an investigation by FBI agents which uncovered suspicious activity but they were told by their bosses not to pursue what they had found so as not to make the administration look bad this early."

"Insanity!" Thorvald insisted. "These incompetents have threatened everything we've worked for!"

"They don't even know we exist," said Simons, firmly. "This was all... just an accident."

"'Accidents' like this were the reason we started our work! Are you certain there were no Novas among the hijackers?"

"Most fundamentalists - whatever their stripe - reject Novas. No Novas were known to be involved in the attacks at any level, and anyone who knows about Moslem fundamentalists will discount even the idea."

"We could spread rumors that mentalist Novas arranged all this, making it look like Moslems fanatics were responsible."

"That's all they would be. Rumors. The few who would believe such fabrications would be of little use to us."

"This is very bad," said Thorvald, dropping into his chair. "Not only do Novas save the day, Team Tomorrow was caught sitting on their thumbs. They didn't even mobilize until the worst was over, then tried to take credit for saving the day. Some of the press went along, but most are either minimizing TT's participation, or even criticizing them. It was all independents, just jumping in without supervision, who did the real work, and everyone knows it. It's a disaster on multiple levels."

"Especially the personal one," said Simons, pointedly.

* * *

Due to the emergency, the doctors evaluated Argent's condition early, and as expected cleared her for duty. For once, the press was paying attention to her. They swarmed around as she was wheeled out to the car, where Adams was holding the door open for her. She still looked parboiled, her skin red and blistered and most of her hair gone. She made certain to move a little less briskly, a little less confidently than usual.

"Argent!" shouted one of the drones shoving microphones in her face. "How do you feel, knowing you were lying in a hospital bed here while all this tragedy was occurring in New York?"

"How do you think I feel?" said Argent, sourly. "I joined the FBI because I wanted to help the innocent and punish the criminals. I've never felt so helpless in my life."

"Are you planning to go to New York to help with the search and rescue efforts?" another shouted.

"No. The administration is worried there may be other attacks, so I'm staying here in case something happens in this part of the country."

"But what if you can't get there in time?"

"Keep in mind that I'm not the only resource the federal government has in this area. Besides the FBI there's the Federal Marshall's Service and several other agencies, some of whom have their own Nova help. There are also state and local law enforcement agencies who are giving top priority to finding and stopping any further attacks. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work."

* * *

The next few days were hectic for the Cincinnati FBI office. Unfortunately, that frantic activity led to little actual progress in the World Trade Center attacks. Argent and her coworkers made almost no contribution to the search for the parties responsible for those, but did find themselves investigating and arresting many who were inspired by them or assumed they could take advantage of the situation for their own ends. However, someone was on the job, and doing it well.

Within days the Administration revealed that the plotters were members of a terrorist group previously unknown to most Americans. They were tracked to Afghanistan, where they were apparently allied with the Islamic extremists who ruled that troubled nation.

Demands from all quarters were made for the US to invade Afghanistan. The goals of these quarters varied greatly, from simply finding those responsible and arresting them, to turning the country into a US possession. The Schroer administration was keeping quiet about its plans, but the whole world knew the armed forces of the United States - and many other entities, including the UN - were being prepared for action.

On November fourteenth flaming letters spelling out "You shall not kill" in elegant, archaic Arabic script appeared in the sky over Kabul, Afghanistan. Taliban leaders interpreted this as Allah's approval of their actions against the American infidels.

Shortly after they announced this, Novas from all over the world began staging raids on Afghanistan, with varying degrees of effectiveness and amounts of collateral damage. Pleas from the UN and multiple governments to stop went mostly unheeded. Many gifts of documents and records taken from Taliban facilities - most of them worthless but a few providing valuable information - made their way to various agencies. A number of known terrorists were dropped (often literally) off at the UN, the CIA or other places. Unfortunately, so were many apparently innocent men and women. Most of these people were dead; none were healthy. Announcements of Novas being killed in such raids were repeatedly made by the government of Afghanistan, but only a few bodies in colorful costumes were shown and none of these were verifiable as recognized Novas.

Cries from Afghanistan to Muslim Novas for help in resisting these attackers were generally either answered with venomous rhetoric that Novas are not part of Islam, or silence. Given the Taliban's previous actions and words against Novas the second answer was not surprising.

By the time the United States formally declared war, there was little fight left in the Taliban and its Afghanistani puppet government. Though several top Taliban leaders escaped, the country was soon in US - and then UN - hands. Some praised the actions of the Novas who softened up Afghanistan’s defenses. Others claimed those same Novas were far out of line and actually hampered legitimate military and intelligence efforts, and demanded that those who participated be found and prosecuted. Some even claimed that civilian casualties and collateral damage would have been less with modern, precision-guided weapons, but they were generally derided.

In spite of all of this, Osama Bin Ladin remained at large. Rumors abounded that he was a Nova.

Part Thirty-Four

As the year staggered to an end, Argent's most recent fight had the usual regulatory repercussions, as well as some new criticisms.

"We've had static from several sources," said Johnson. "Not that Tueur was so severely injured, but the way he was injured. The suspicion is that you can somehow cause a Nova's powers to short circuit. Given what happened with Hugo, I think the suspicion is justifiable."

"As far as I know it's just coincidence," said Argent, though she looked concerned. "Remember, that time with Hugo I'd only had my powers a few months."

"What about Andy? You're convinced you caused his Eruption."

"That's actually not uncommon," said Argent. "Exposure to the Quantum of another Nova is about the fourth most common trigger known for Eruptions, and there were two of us there, fighting. I've even found other cases of someone driving their powers too hard and burning out."

"You're not hiding anything from me," said Johnson, looking her in the eye.

"Many things, but they're personal and shouldn't impact my work." Argent sighed, looking tired and uncomfortable. "It's... vaguely possible I'm somehow manipulating Quantum to interfere with the way my opponents use it. If so, it's completely unconscious. I've read about some Novas who can affect the powers of other Novas, but none of them can do anything like that."

"Then I'll put in my report that you don't believe you are responsible for these flare-ups."

* * *

"Did you hear?" said George, later that day. "Project Utopia has announced it will move from New York to Venice. The official reasons are lack of cooperation from the US government and the need for more extensive, purpose-built facilities. People are already saying the real reason is embarrassment at their slow response to the terrorist attacks of 9/11, that they are afraid of becoming targets of further attacks, that they are hiding complicity in the attacks, and so on."

"They were very slow off the mark," said Argent, sourly. "They had quick response plans for pretty much the whole world and every conceivable scenario, except a major terrorist attack in New York."

"At least things are winding down in Afghanistan. We captured most of the people responsible for the attacks, freed a country from dictatorship, and all in short order with surprisingly few casualties."

"Yeah, but now President Schroer is saying that Iraq is harboring Taliban refugees from Afghanistan and some of their terrorist allies," said Adams.

Argent heaved a great sigh.

"I have a feeling things are only gonna get worse as we move into the new year."

"You doing anything for New Year's?"

"That's still a ways off," said Argent, grinning at her partner. "You looking forward to the celebration - and the alcohol - already?"

"Yes," said George, flatly, making both Adams and Argent laugh.

"Mine will be a double-header," said Argent. "Dinner with the

Kaders, then on the Plexus."

"Family," said Adams rolling his eyes in a way which made the others laugh.

* * *

"What do you think about this announcement that Team Tomorrow intends to split into two teams, T2M Europe and T2M Americas?" said Adams, on a sunny but cold February day when little was happening.

"It's about time. Having all their resources in one place was both risky and made mobilizing slow for many parts of the world. I expect that as they recruit more Novas they'll build even more franchises."

* * *

"How goes it?" said Argent, as George came limping in.

"Eh?"

"You left early yesterday to get your leg evaluated."

"Oh! The doctors say I should be out of this cast soon," said George.

"That's good news. Adams is champing at the bit for a transfer so he can get an assignment closer to where he's from."

"Speak of the devil," said George, as the youngest member of their team came in.

"Well, you were right," said Adams, to Argent. He appeared both serious and a bit breathless.

"Naturally," said Argent, grinning. "About what?"

"CNN just broke a gay sex scandal story involving President Schroer. I stayed to watch that, which is why I was almost late."

"Fuck," said Argent, angrily.

She was angry on several grounds, the main one being that Schroer had been stupid enough to get caught. That would make everyone not strictly heterosexual look bad.

"Looks like you were also right that this is going to be a Hell of a year," said George. "Just three months along and look at what's already happened."

"Well, I didn't directly predict that Project Utopia would have a major recruitment program, but I'm not surprised. They have two teams, now, and obviously plan more, once they get Novas and train them. Especially with the attack on Iraq."

"The which on what?" said George, startled.

"Well, it's obvious. Aside from the more noble reasons, they need to boost their public image after that 9/11 debacle."

"Nobody is saying a word, officially," said Adams, cautiously.

"Exactly," said Argent, with a smug expression.

* * *

"Well, President Schroer declared war on Iraq," said Adams, sourly, as he came in last to the office again a few weeks later. "If it were earlier in the month I'd think that was an April Fool joke."

"Why?" said George. "He claims to have justification, and even though the UN is officially against military action, many of our allies are in favor."

"Yeah, but commentators and rival politicians are already claiming he is doing this as a demonstration of manhood in response to the scandal."

George was out of his cast but was working with a new Nova, Ligature, while Adams continued to work with Argent for at least a few more weeks. Everyone but Adams knew he needed more experience.

"How is Ligature coming?" Argent asked George.

"Not bad."

"Just what are her powers, anyway?" said Adams.

"General physical enhancements, plus an ability to 'bind.'"

"Bind?"

"That's the best short description for it. She can produce energy cords which fly where she wants and wrap around whatever they hit. Squeeze pretty tight, too."

"Hence the name," said Argent, nodding. "At least her costume is something approaching standard FBI wear."

* * *

"Oh, God..." said Ligature, as she examined her reflection in the restroom mirror. "I look like I've been dating Mike Tyson."

She had laid her custom designed and tailored jacket on the counter before leaning in close to the mirror, her tie dangling.

"Just be glad Novas heal fast," said Argent.

The other Nova was in her early twenties. She had been through the basic FBI training before getting an assignment with Johnson's Nova team for her super training. She struck Argent as enthusiastic but not naive, confident but not overly so. Though that last evaluation might need revision.

"I feel so stupid," said the novice Nova LEO, sighing. "I mean, the guy was a baseline, so I let my guard down. Then he hit me with brass knuckles."

"Most people would have broken bones or even a concussion from that hit," said Argent. "You got a split lip and a black eye."

She peered at the other woman.

"You sure you don't want to go to the infirmary?"

"Yeah," said Ligature, nodding and turning away from the mirror towards Argent. "The bleeding had already stopped by the time George had the guy in the car. I was just left sitting there, on the wall, looking stupid, one of those cold packs on my face."

"Be glad you had this learning experience with a norm," said Argent, wryly. "My first real Nova fight was against Hugo."

"I read about that," said Ligature, looking impressed. "It's required at the Academy, now."

"I did not know that," said Argent, flattered. "What do they say about the fight?"

"That you were both clever and lucky."

"That's pretty much what happened," said Argent, with a humorless laugh.

* * *

Over the next several weeks forces were gathered in preparation for a major military strike against Iraq. However, the first attack came from a force of nearly a hundred Novas, many of them members of Team Tomorrow. President Schroer struck a secret deal with the UN, which had previously been opposed to military action against Iraq.

Important lessons had been learned in Afghanistan. Especially in regard to the employment of Novas in military actions. The Novas surgically disabled all important military facilities in under two days, occasionally aided by US air strikes. They located and captured Saddam Hussein and most of his high level government officials within a week and turned them over to the UN.

A multinational military force - which included many Novas - then occupied the country. With the help of the Novas and what they uncovered, evidence of horrible atrocities was made public, partially swaying those previously opposed to the invasion. While no terrorist camps or weapons of mass destruction - and only a few Taliban members - were found, enough components and plans were retrieved to unnerve those in the know. The UN and the US settled in to bring democracy to the country. They soon found themselves bogged down with insurgent attacks and civil unrest.

* * *

"Wow," said Adams, as he watched the special report finish.

"Why so surprised? We did almost that well in the first Gulf War, before Novas even existed."

"You're right," said George, nodding at Argent's words. "Though the Novas definitely made this one easier."

* * *

"I remember when I complained because of a lack of attention from the press and the public," said Argent, sourly, as she sorted through messages.

"What's the problem?" said Adams.

"Groupies," said Argent, with a sigh, lifting a spread of notes and letting them drop onto her desk. "Not just groupies, but people who actually seem to think I have some sort of divine power. Some of these requests... One woman wants me to make her fertile!"

"Yeah, I read that article in the July issue of _The Economist_ about 'The India Syndrome,'" said Ligature. "About the tendency for the uneducated or simply gullible to see Novas as literal gods."

"It's not that bad here, fortunately," said Argent.

"Yet," said George.

* * *

"I wish the Bureau would spring for some Eufiber for me," said Argent. "I am sick of losing my clothes. Even when I'm not actually left naked."

"You're rich from the Market," said Adams. "Buy your own."

"Private individuals have to wait longer than government agencies," said Argent, sounding a bit aggravated. "If I can't officially say it's for FBI use, I'd have to wait months."

The latest incident had involved caustic chemicals thrown on her by a meth lab worker. Argent hadn't been hurt, but some of the fabrics and other materials in her clothing had been damaged beyond repair.

"No Eufiber," said Johnson, "but all of you in the Nova unit are being issued new handguns. Full-powered ten millimeter automatics."

"Overkill for most humans," said George, wryly, "underkill for most Novas. Perfect compromise."

* * *

"I have to admit," said Brian, cautiously, "when it comes to... physical attractiveness, I prefer you this way. Though if the opportunity ever came, I'd love to bang Argent, just for the challenge."

"'Challenge'?" said Sarah, smirking. "You mean of breaking the dyke?"

"No!" he said, ignoring the pun. "Look, Argent is physically intimidating. It's like being able to say - if only to yourself - that you broke the baddest bronk. Even if it did cost you some ribs."

They had a table to themselves at the Plexus, in a dark, quiet corner. They had worked their way up to this - the first outing which could actually be considered a formal date - gradually. Both were nervous, but still making a good go of having a good time.

"I'm not sure whether to be flattered or offended," said Sarah, with a mischievous smile. "I think I'll pick both."

"Well, I can see how it's offensive. I'm just being honest."

Sarah contemplated him for a moment. Then smiled, and shifted to Argent.

"The baddest bronk, eh?"

"I meant that with all due affection," said Brian, quickly.

Argent laughed, lifted him up by the shoulders, gave him a quick peck on the lips, and let go. Then shifted back before any of the other patrons noticed.

"Did Amber set this up just so we could have some privacy?" said Brian, looking at the convenient arrangement of potted plants, a high-backed booth and a decorative screen which largely hid them from view.

"Not just for us. She has several little nooks like this around the nightclub."

"Very thoughtful," said Brian, smiling at Sarah. "Very thoughtful, indeed."

End Segment Two