Epilogue
Midnight, West parking garage of Maimon Medical Center, Cavelier, IL.
Chelsea brings herself in haltingly for a landing as the helipad signal lights flash in the skies about the center. She finds Lucretcia waiting there for her.
Chelsea is wearing a black leather top replete with buckles and a pink sash over her eyes. Her hair is pulled to the opposite side of her head as it was before, covering the shaved section and giving her a quite different appearance.
She sets foot lightly on the roof of the parking garage, before carefully allowing her full weight to drop onto her feet.
Grant had gone back to his place of work to wait out the next few hours, already making headway on the boatload of claims filing in from today's massacre. He had little doubt that the next few days here would be beyond busy. But while he was working overtime, He tried to poke around the local news feeds to see just what people were saying...
When the scheduled time approached, he arrived at the medical center's parking garage. His body felt the pain of overworked muscles when his abilities faded, leaving him wheelchair bound.
He could see his doctor and the young asian girl as he rolled up. "Hope you have some theories, Dr. Santori..."
Hypotheses to doctor corrects, And not as of yet, other than that the gas had something to do with it. I'd like to run some tests, see if there's genetic markers common amongst us, but that will take time.
She fidgets with her jacket, unsure about how to proceed with what's on her mind next. Grant, why are you back in mobility assistance? she decides to deflect with.
The older man rolls his eyes, "Same damn thing. If you want to run some tests, I'm all for it. Whatever it was that happened to me earlier... I can't even begin to explain it myself. About that last part though, I can't say. Some of the survivors displaying... oddities, seemed to loose theirs shortly after as well. From waht I could see at least. But..."
He holds clenches his hand in front of him, concentrating. Lucy can clearly see how his veins suddenly start to bulge out in strange, disgusting ways, before quickly shooting up the rest of his arm. Once they fade back to seeming normal, he carefully grips the edges of his chair, stepping free.
"It's not gone forever. I can call on it again for a short time. I kept it up for at least an hour earlier before it started to fade again. But it always goes away eventually, leaving me back in that chair."
Grant... tried to poke around the local news feeds to see just what people were saying...
Grant determines that there was some sort of attack at the airforce base, and that it was heavily damaged and most if not all of the personnel were killed. It makes sense, considering the bright flash everyone saw to the east.
The gas is being played off as some sort of terrorist chemical weapons attack; there is no mention of aliens.
There is mention of a number of fatalities, somewhere near 150 people, but it doesn't go into detail and states that most people seem to have recovered from the gas without complication.
Chelsea seems distant, something bothering her, but she doesn't appear to want to discuss it.
After a few minutes, she says "Things are a mess out east. Cops and emergency services all over down by Willis AFB. I could hardly get home."
"I don't doubt it. Seems that's where things all went down first. Everyone seems to think that gas was part of it, some sort of chemical weapon. Nothing about the creatures though, or.... people like us."
"Oh, good, I'm not the only one who still has this whole thing." Alexander walked up and nodded. He's wearing a casual shirt and pants, because why not? "I keep expecting someone to wake me up and explain it was all just a dream. Maybe one of those injections the army gave me finally did something horrifying to me." He looked at the others. "But, apparently, not."
Looking at his phone, he adds, "Did I hear mention of tests?" Alexander considered. "I mean...how are we doing this? Are we keeping this amongst us, with the good doctor doing what she can to look into it, or are we talking about going to see the Government? Because I must admit, I'd prefer to hold off on that second option."
As would I. I don't quite trust the government to handle something like this with delicacy, Lucretcia says, half murmuring. I think the real question is... what do we DO with this? Other than try to run tests to see how or why, what should we do about this? Or with this, more to the point. Seems rather dull to go back to mundane life knowing we are so much more.
"There's nary a doubt in my mind that the government has at least some inkling about what went down tonight. It all started at the base in the first place afterall, and you can bet your ass at least one or two of the soldiers there got dropped into the oddity lottery if our small area of the city was any indication.
"I can't say I don't trust the government- I still love this damn country after all, in spite of the recent events. But... We do need to be cautious, even and perhaps even especially, if they knew about what went wrong. Hide ourselves somehow."
He let's out a dry laugh, "Hell, put on a mask and don a cape and we could just do the way of comics. Aliens, demons, genetics, maybe even god himself... we didn't get what we've got for just no reason. We have an obligation here. Not everyone's gonna turn out to be upstanding citizens with their oddities for one, and there's always something going wrong around here one way or another.
"...We could be heroes."
Chelsea, who has already "costumed up", effectively, with her pink eye mask and change of hairstyle, nods.
"My thoughts exactly," she says, holding a finger up to her mask. "We're not the first ones. There was that guy Ajax, when I was a kid. All he could do was throw dirt clods with his mind. And there was a guy in China in the 80s who could fly or something. But we're...way more amped up than those guys."
"I can throw minds with my mind, so yes, we seem to be a little more...impressive." Alexander shrugged. "There are also four of us. Numbers count in this sort of things." Considering, he added, "But while I hate to say it...I suspect hiding our identity would be a wise idea, if we're really going to try Operation: Superhero. I also immediately veto any suggestion of coloured spandex."
Grant snorts, "And here I was just about to break out identical leotards for everyone. Look, I'm just an office worker, I don't know anything about what it takes to make a costume or whatever. And no offense, but I'm definitely not wearing something like that." He finished, looking pointedly at Chelsea.
"Just regular masks would only make us look like criminals as well, and that'd be pretty damn counter productive."
"I have a friend who's a designer. I bet he could whip us up something a little more modern," Chelsea offers. "Well," she admits, "He's my friend's dad, but still..."
"If he can keep a secret and doesn't try and put me in yellow, then it sounds like a plan." It wasn't like they would be able to trust everyone...but a few would be required.
"Are you certain this dad of your friend could handle a secret as big as... Well, the fact that the natural laws of our world have seemingly ceased to apply to us."
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"I can check that, if needs be." Alexander shrugged. "Or at least, I can read his mind and see if he intends to do so." The archaeologist looked up, considering. "Statements you did not think you'd be making when you woke up today..."
"Well, if you'd like, I can take your measurements and take them to him myself. That way, at least he only knows I'm involved, and doesn't know your identities. And Mr. Brain there," she says pointing at Alex, "Can do his thing from nearby to see if telling him was bad idea."
Alexander smiled. "As Superheroic as 'Mr Brain' is, my actual name is Alexander. Alexander Prost. Eventually Doctor, if I ever bother finishing it. Archaeology, not medicine."
"Chelsea Nguyen." she says, holding out her hand.
"Grant Philips." He reaches to exchange a handshake of his own, but quickly pulls it back. Crushing their hands wouldn't really be a great way to begin this... Partnership, or whatever they were going to call it.
"Numbers, we should exchange those so we can actually keep in touch."
Alexander took Chelsea's hand and kissed the tips. "Charmed," he added with a small smile. Well, he was technically speaking both a gentleman and officer. It was the kind of thing you did.
Nodding at Grant's suggestion, he pulled out his phone and tapped at it a fews times. Sighed. Shook it once of twice. "Miracles of technology, with the vast and infinite sum of human knowledge, and will the bloody touch screen work half the time? Will it hell." After a moment it seemed to obey, and he read the number out.
It was a shame he couldn't read his own mind. Maybe then he'd able to recall the number.
"Hey, doc," Chelsea addresses Lucretcia, "You said something about tests. You want us to go to a lab or something," she says, gesturing at the medical center,"So you can take our blood and have us pee in a cup?"
Lucretcia knows that the labs in Maimon Medical Center are more than capable of running some basic tests that would, potentially, at least give them something to go on. From there, the heroes might look into more detailed tests at a more advanced facility sometime down the road.
"If we need to be more subtle, I can borrow some of the machinery at the museum." Alexander grinned. "You would be surprised what you can justify grabbing. And it's probably not as closely watched as the hospital's.
Older models, second hand stuff...but it all works. Most of the time." He glared at the hone again. Tech.
Not wanting to break his expensive smartphone, it was a birthday gift afterall, he merely recites his number from memory while committing theirs to his.
"I'm not sure I'd be much for you 'burrowing' museum or however you'd justify it, but it just might be the safer option overall iffin we wanna learn more about our conditions. That is, unless the good doctor here thinks she can get some for of permission?"
Well, it'll be easy enough justify the tests for Grant, Lucretcia says with her arms crossed, lost in her own mind for a bit, the rest of us should probably use pseudonyms, but I think it'd be easy enough to justify with the recent events. I think pseudonyms would probably be the best, just for the inevitable follow up tests we'll have to do.
She breaks out of her trance to look at Alexander, I... appreciate your offer, but uh... the facilities here will be sufficient, she informs him, clearly holding back from saying more on the subject.
A few days later...
Dr. Santori was able to run an entire battery of analyses on the four heroes. She found that each person had certain physiological changes related to their individual powers, except for she herself.
Grant, for example, when "amped," gains muscle density and many of his other bodily features become more resilient. . Chelsea's metabolism in generally is accelerated, and becomes much more so when she fires her energy blast. And Alexander's brain pattern becomes much more active when he uses his powers, and is higher than average activity even when not using them.
But the biggest news is that there seems to be a genetic similarity between all four of the heroes including Lucretcia. The sequence is not found in any of the individuals who've been tested after having passed out.
Chelsea was able to check with her friend's dad, David Meyers, on the idea of designing some sort of uniforms for the team. Alexander was nearby reading Meyers' surface thoughts during the encounter. David was enthusiastic about the potential; it seems he was a fan of the parahuman phenomena, and while surprised, was not totally taken aback that such people might be among them.
Issue 2
The four have convened once again to discuss their findings, and the future. In an unused section of Commerce Tower 1, downtown, the heroes sit at a conference room table. It's early evening, Tuesday November 1st, 1 week before the US Elections.
Grant sat in similar quiet to everyone else, nursing his coffee and a growing headache. It was black, of course, exactly how he liked it. There was a lot of big important things they needed to discuss today,
and he wasn't at all eager to begin. But it had to be done, so he fibally put his cup down and looked around the room.
" We should at least have a few hours here to ourselves," He started simply. "This space still hasn't been bought up from when the company here moved accross town last month. But I don't expect it to stay that way."
"We may need to find ourselves a bat-cave. Personally, I would suggest an old factory. So many old factories." Alexander takes a bite of a fajita wrap and chews thoughtfully. "Not as nice, I admit, but then I tend to think of 'nice' as four permanent walls."
"Aaaanyway," Chelsea says, "here they are. The uniforms David designed for us. Or, at least, the prototypes. He's waiting to start work on the final versions until everyone picks out at color pallet. Although, I rather like the black."
Alexander held up the suit. "Not too bad. Now I just need to acquire an Inverness coat and an authentic piece of Ozark folk art. That shall truly complete the look."
"Whatevs...Hey, we should do code names, right? Like Ajax did! Or them guys in the movies. I was thinking of Blayze, you know, with a 'Y'.
"I'm going to veto that out of decency and respect. for the English language. This is interesting... Would take some getting used to. But I can work with it. Hah... Look at us. Near complete strangers bound together by some freak event."
Alexander looked slightly sad that none had gotten the reference, and shrugged. "Anything will do, one assumes, so long as we don't drop our real names in public." He shrugged. "You could always use Blasan or Byrne if you want to keep to English." True, they were...a little out of date, but they meant the same thing.
As the heroes discuss names, costumes, and the details of regular meet-ups and the like, a noise like a low-flying plane passes overhead, literally shaking the building. Then, a sound as if a bomb has gone off, followed by every window in the room cracking and the floor jumping at least a foot before it returns to its normal position.
Alexander looked up, and raised an eyebrow. "Why do I feel as though we're about to get the chance to try these out?" Looking around the carpark, he sighed. "A certain lack of changing facilities...given the fact something went boom, I think turning our backs and trusting each other not to peek will have to suffice. Unless someone brought a van."
The doctor scoffs at the idea of a van, As if I would drive around in a van like some soccer mom... as she turns around to get changed into her... uniform. She doesn't seem to care terribly much about her own or the rest of the group's modesty, perhaps a side effect of her profession.
She turns around as soon as she is dressed, looking clearly uncomfortable about her attire as she tugs on diffetent parts on her arms and legs. Do they have to be so tight? she inquires with a frown on her face.
Grant blanched once she starts to dress right in front of the whole world. "Honestly! There are bathrooms and empty rooms just down the hall, and you just- Ah, nevermind. Damnit... Need to pump up before I can do anything..."
He takes the outfit the young girl provided him, and wheels out of the room to get himself changed.
It hardly seems like we have time for modesty, Gra- Lucretcia starts before she realizes he's left the room. She shrugs, a gesture which elicits another grimace from her as she tugs on the shoulders of the suit. Honestly, I think I'm changing to robes given the first opportunity. Letting you run with whatever on the design was not my brightest moment, she grumbles with a significant look at Chelsea. Not sure why I thought letting a teenager design ANYTHING for me was a good idea...
Grant returns a short time later, sans chair, looking dressed to impress. He adjuat his tie slightly as he walks in through the door, before holding out his hands to emphasize the gear. "What do you think? Business tactical suits? Hah... I was weary at first, but I think I like it. Your guy does good work Chelsea."
The team having changed and assembled, they take to the streets. One of the windows on this level is broken out, allowing grant to leap, Chelsea to fly, and Alexander to teleport himself and Lucretcia to the street below. Smoke rises from the sky, and it turns out to be coming from just a couple blocks away at the UBI Bank Building...
There, a small airbus jet seems to have crashed into the building, with half of it teetering precariously out the side overlooking Miller Street (East-West on the North side of the building) over light traffic. The front half is inside the building, and flames are rising...
Alexander frowned behind the mask he wore, and used his ability to detect thoughts, trying to see if there were people alive in both the plane and building. They would be priority one.
Priority two would be making sure a plane's worth of jetfuel and fumes didn't catch fire. In theory, it would just burn - that was what it was meant to do, after all, and the Holywood exploding fuel tank was very unusual - but even that much heat could set fire to half a block.
And fire spread.
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Grant slams into the ground undteadily, still unused to these new abilities. Yet all that comes of it is a light streak of rubber on the concrete below. He assesses the situation, and decides first priority is to deal with the traffic.
Essentially, Alexander notes about 15 people living in the rear portion of the plane, only three people in the building above the crash site, and 40+ below the crash site who are already starting to pour out of the exits.
Grant steps into the street; there are some people who are angry, obviously not knowing what's happening above, and more than a few rubber-neckers basically parked in the middle of the road looking up. further up the road where people can see what's going on, they're mostly re-routing themselves.
Chelsea/Blayze flies up to the crash site and inspects the area visually.
Preception:
She swoops back down to hover above the ground high enough to communicate to the others easily.
"The flames are pretty bad up there, but it didn't feel too hot to me. I think I might protected against fire. I might be able to fly in and try to get some people out."