Silver Streak’s safehouse, Riccapoor
October 12, 2008, 9:15 a.m.

London sat at the elderly woman’s bedside as she started to stir. He could actually hear the creak in her bones as she turned towards him, her eyes still closed. This could be me, he thought. If it wasn’t for this crazy time jump, I would be nearly as old as she is right now.

Her eyes open and her lips curled in a slight grin. “I know you. You’re Flag Man’s boy… Ricky, isn’t it?”

“Rusty actually. And you’re Mary Lee, Lady Fairplay.”

“I suppose I am,” she said.

She looked down at her wrinkled hand. She turned it back and forth as if seeing it for the first time. “What happened to me?” London scratched the back of his head. He didn’t quite know how to say the words. With a sigh, he finally decided a direct approach would be best despite her frail condition.

“You got old.”

“Old? What are you talking about?”

“The year is 2008, Mary. It seems you were in that tank for over seventy years.”

Mary’s eyes narrowed as her body started to shake. “Seventy years, no… No, this can’t have happened!” “I’m sorry.”

“But you’re still barely a slip of a man! You can’t be over twenty.”

London could only take in the wild look in her eyes for several moments. Finally, he found the wherewithal to answer her. “Sometime after you were captured, a handful of mystery men, myself included, were transported to the future. We’ve been here for only about six months ourselves. I… I really am sorry.”

Mary only looked at her wrinkled fingers. “I lost seventy years of my life and all you can say is sorry?”

“If I could take it back, I would. Believe me, I would.”

“Why didn’t any of you help me? Why didn’t somebody rescue me?”

London looked away. “We didn’t know you were missing.”

“Didn’t know? Was I that important that my disappearance wasn’t even noticed?”

“We didn’t know. We thought you went bad. There was a woman named Lady Foulplay. She looked just like you except for a change in colors. We thought she was you. We couldn’t have guessed that you disappeared like this. That someone did this to you.”

“It was Amazo. Anton Amazo. He gave me these powers. He unleashed my energetic abilities… that’s his words for them, not mine. But he didn’t like that I decided to use them to fight crime. He wanted to study them, replicate them. Sell the secrets of how he made them work to the highest bidder. He tried to replicate them in other subjects, but he could never make it work. And I was too busy with my life as a teacher and crime to let him poke and prod me too much. It made him angry, so angry.”

She continued to stare intently at her hand as she bent her fingers in to a fist. “The last I heard of him, he had defected. People said he was in Japan. Or Germany. Whatever the case, clearly he wanted the powers back. So he took it.”

London nodded. “And I’m guessing he was never able to make them work. That’s why he needed you in cold storage. He could siphon your powers off and give him to all the Lady Foulplays he made.”

“All the Foulplays?”

“We brought one with us in to the present; the one we thought was you. She’s in custody now, and I suppose that’s just another mystery that will need to be solved. But the Claw also had a small army of young brainwashed Ricapoorian girls. He made them in to an army of Lady Foulplays.”

“The Claw? Oh dear lord. What happened while I was under?”

“I don’t really know,” London said. “But I would guess you were passed around after Amazo died. How Claw ended up with you… that I couldn’t even begin to guess.”

“I see. What happened to that nice local girl that saved me? Where is she now?”

“This is her place. She’s the only one of our merry band that had a place in Riccapoor outside of the Claw’s dungeons. So we all met here. She’s out with the Coward patrolling the area. Atoman and Black Owl are already on their way back to Singapore.”

“So where does that leave me?”

“I don’t know. You have your life back. I suppose you just have to decide what to do with it.”

“I have to be…” She paused in thought. “Eighty-eight years old now. What can a decrepit old woman do to help?”

London shook his head. “I don’t have all the answers. All I know is that I’m glad we could rescue you before you got any older. It’s up to you to figure out what to do with your remaining time.”

She slowly sat upright. “I suppose you’re right, son.”

Mary climbed to her feet and looked around the room. London gave her a concerned look, but she just shook her head.

“I’m not getting any younger. It’s time I lived life to its fullest, and that starts right now, right here. Now where can I find some clothes?”

London could only smile.

*****

The Chateau, Boston, Massachusetts
October 12, 2008

Dominique sat at the end of her dining hall in a large raised chair she used to greet guests. From here she could look down on her visitors like a queen overseeing her kingdom. She wore a spandex bodysuit, translucent red except for small patches of crimson over her crotch and at the tip of each breast. She lounged sideways across the chair, her legs spread lewdly as her visitor walked in to the room.

“Good day, Charles. To what do I owe this visit?”

Charles Chandler stood nearly six and a half feet tall. Despite being nearly eighty, he looked to be only in his mid-fifties, a very healthy mid-fifties. His frame was thick, but still rippled with muscle. His formerly dark hair was now completely gray as was the bushy moustache on his upper lip. His brown suit hung perfectly on his body.

“I’ve heard word about a special project related to the powers research.” “I am responsible for all research and development, Charles. The Council agreed that it needed to be focused in one area.”

“I understand that, but we also presented strict guidelines about what you can and cannot do.”

Dominique smirked. “I am well aware of the guidelines governing my activities. I have lived under them for over sixty years.”

“Then why in the hell are you kidnapping and experimenting on children! No one approved your actions! No one would ever approve them! You could expose everything!”

Dominique shifted her body and placed her feet on the floor. She leaned forward just enough to make sure her cleavage was well displayed. “No one will ever find out, Charles. No one will ever know what happened to them.”

“You’re sick! You experiment on children and treat them like guinea pigs! This is not what our research is about!”

“Don’t be so naïve, Charles. It does little to help your demeanor. And I’m sure your heart doesn’t need the stress you are putting it under. You should relax, let those of us close to the work handle it.”

“I won’t let this project become a Gestapo! I fought to end one set of Nazis, and I damned well will not be party with another!”

“You’re being irrational, Charles. Please, have a drink with me, let me—”

“Stop it! Stop your games! I knew I should never have capitulated and let you on to this project. I remember your history Dominique. I remember your behavior before the war. How you would subjugate entire cities, force them to slay their own people, and then raise the dead as your loyal soldiers. I know exactly where you stand, what you are capable of doing.”

Dominique shook her head. “You have no idea. You think that I would have reached this level of experimentation without approval from the others? You’re a damn fool, Charles. An out of touch old man still blinded by his glory days. You were never able to understand the true meaning of what we’re doing here. You can’t take the extra step and suffer the consequences all to see the world become something better. You’re just a typical American capitalist, ready to tear everything down that stands in your way, but never willing to build anything that will change the world for the better.”

“You’re blinded by power! I swear I will not let you do this, Dominique!”

Dominique stood up. She slinked towards Charles, and stopped inches before his face. She reached up and ran one hand across his cheek and trailed it across his lips.

“It’s too bad, Charles. I used to like you. Back in your younger days, you were one of my favorite conquests. So much energy and spirit. It’s a shame that I have to dispose of you.”

Charles felt his stomach suddenly twist in to a knot. His breath caught in his throat as he felt his windpipe swell tight. “What—?”

“You’ve been breathing one of my experiments, Charles. A weaponized version of our new strain of metavirus. It sits inert in the air, completely harmless until you come in contact with the catalyst agent.” She raised her hand, the same hand that a moment before touched his face, and casually waved. “Fortunately for me, I already have an active metagene. Not so fortunate for you.”

Charles coughed one last time before his windpipe closed up completely. His hands went for Dominique’s throat, but it was already too late. His strength faded and his muscles betrayed him. His knees buckled and he fell forward on his hands and knees.

“I always wanted you to bow before me, Charles, but never quite like this. I suppose a refined woman such as myself will take what she can get.”

Charles could only stare in to her shit-eating grin as the world flickered in and out of his vision. His entire body contorted as every muscle in his body stretched and moved beneath his skin.

After interminable minutes of blistering pain, all watched with an air of delight by Dominique, Charles closed his eyes and felt no more.

*****

Massachusetts General Hospital, Boston
October 12, 2008, 10:22 a.m.

It felt like she had been sitting in this room for hours. Cold and alone except for a flimsy gown, she had long ago lost count of the number of nurses, doctors, orderlies, and students that passed in and out of the room since Robert brought her here hours before. The doctor insisted that Robert wait outside. He readily agreed and she found herself alone again.

She didn’t like to be alone.

Isobel Blake stared at the ceiling. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come.

What’s wrong with me? Every time something finally goes right, something like this happens and ruins everything. Is it me? Is there something in me that makes even the most right thing go horribly wrong?

Another knock on the door, and a short Asian man in scrubs entered the room. Though she couldn’t remember his name, she recognized him from earlier as the on call gynecologist.

“Ms. Blake, I suppose congratulations are in order.”

Isobel stared blankly at the doctor. “I come in here, feeling like I’m dying, and you congratulate me.”

The doctor shook his head. “I’m sorry if I come off as rude, but you are a healthy young woman. I suspect the pain came simply from your stress in your current condition.”

“What condition? What are you talking about?”

“The lab results my nurse took came back positive. You are pregnant, Ms. Blake. I would guess from my exam earlier about two months or so now. Maybe two and a half. We can clear up the exact timing after you schedule an appointment with your personal gynecologist.”

“No, that’s not possible. I can’t be pregnant. I definitely can’t be two months pregnant. I did have… relations… just over a day ago, but that was the first time in a very, very long time.”

The doctor studied the charts. “I must disagree, Ms. Blake. I’ve studied the chart more than once. You are most definitely pregnant and much farther along than a few days. Two months at a minimum. Please think back. Perhaps you were at a bar, drinking?”

“No! I know my body, I know what I did, and I’m telling you it can’t be true.”

“Please.” The doctor gently touched his hand to her arm. “In your current state, you can’t get too worked up. Stress negatively affects both you and the child and can lead to complications.”

“I’m already stressed, what difference—”

Another shot of pain coursed through her midsection. She grasped at her belly as she gasped for oxygen.

“Okay, I’ll try to stay calm. Okay.” She sat back on the bed and tried to take long, slow breathes. It did nothing to calm her rattled nerves.

The doctor patted her on the shoulder before he left the room.

*****

Leila’s condo, Singapore
October 12, 2008, 8:14 p.m.

Though it was just as awkward covering the expanse of ocean in Atoman’s arms as it was on their trip to Riccapoor, this time Black Owl didn’t find he minded all that much. He would soon be reunited with Terri, and discomfort on the trip be damned.

With one final turn, Atoman came off of the ocean and whisked up and over metropolitan Singapore. His speed was almost blinding, and it took all of Black Owl’s concentration to keep breathing.

“What—?”

They swooped down towards Leila’s penthouse, but Black Owl already knew something was wrong.

The hole in the wall still smoked from exposed electrical cables. Wind whipped in to the penthouse and sent everything from papers to home furnishings skirting around the room.

Leila sat on her sofa in the middle of the living room. She looked down at the scarred hard wood floor at her feet.

“What happened here?” Black Owl said. “Where is my wife? Who did this?”

Leila looked up. Anger burned in her eyes. “Look! Look what they did to my damn apartment! Do you know how much this stuff costs?”

Black Owl stormed across the room and yanked her from the sofa. “Where is my wife?”

In less than a blink, Atoman was at his side. Black Owl felt Atoman’s grip around his throat.

“Let her go.”

Black Owl released his grip.

Leila sneered at him. She gestured towards the kitchen. “They left a note.”

Black Owl started across the room, but Atoman was there before he could even take his first step.

“They have your wife and Cindy. It’s the damned American Crusader; he must be working for that fool Wallace.”

Black Owl joined Atoman by the note. He ripped it from the wall before he read it, but his question had little to do with the note’s contents. “Wallace? What does he have to do with this?”

“I suspect he is after me. I’m not quite sure what he wants, but he already sent Flag Man to do his dirty work. I tried to keep away from him, from everyone, but they wouldn’t let me go. And whatever they gave him to use against me, it killed him.”

“So you ran away from the government and now they’ve kidnapped my wife?”

Atoman said nothing.

“Damn it! If anything happens to my wife, I will hunt you down. I don’t care how damn powerful you are.”

Atoman met Black Owl’s burning gaze, but he still did not speak.

“The note says two weeks from now, in Portland. We need to get back to America and start planning.”

Leila jumped from the couch and ran to Atoman. “No! You can’t go! Please, you have to stay with me. Don’t go back… You know what happened when you were in America the last time.”

Atoman slowly pried Leila away from him. “I have no choice. I owe it to Black Owl, and I owe it to Cindy.”

“No, please! I can’t do this without you.”

Atoman turned back to Black Owl. “Book a flight for yourself, Owl. I will meet you in forty-eight hours in front of Pittock Mansion. Do you know it?”

“I can find it.”

Atoman nodded. “I will meet you there, but for now I need some time to think.”

Black Owl could only see a faint blur of read before Atoman was gone. He turned to Leila. “If I learn you had anything to do with this—”

“Get out! Just get out!”

Black Owl was more than happy to do just that.

Leila waited a full thirty minutes to ensure they were gone. She walked over to the cell phone at the end of the couch, picked it up, and quickly typed in a text.

FOOLS ON THE WAY, it said. IT’S ALL UP TO YOU NOW.