Work Book 2

Back at the PRT building, we'd filed the after action reports. I know they're necessary, and important information for later, but at the same time they were annoying. I was fairly sure villains didn't have to make out reports like this.

Well, if you worked for Lex, maybe you did. He wouldn't be dumb enough to have a paper trail about it, though.

Now I was giving a briefing about what I knew, which was actually pretty annoying. I didn't know more than anybody else back home about technology, but as I was the only person on this Earth with any familiarity at all, I guess I would have to do.

So in front of Director Travers and the other members of my team, I was giving yet another briefing just because that was my lot in life.

Well, still better than being a barista.

I gestured to the phones on the table in front of me like a saleswoman from the 1950's. "LexCorp smartphones. They're the best on the market, they make Swiss Army Knives look like quaint little single-use tools. They can take photos, make theatre-quality movies with their cameras, you can watch movies, they can be pocket calculators, use the LexCorp satellites to tell you exactly where you are on the world map, play games, and a thousand more possible functions. Quite a few applications are preloaded, and more can be bought on the LexNet store for anywhere as low as a dollar to two grand, depending on the application. For best quality, you get a LexCorp phone. WayneTech is almost as good, lets you tinker with it a bit more and they actually let you fix their phones, but LexCorp's the best."

Travers spoke, his voice filled with curiosity. "They're not Tinkertech? How did they block out radio transmissions? I have a hard time believing that any company would be allowed to block police or military frequency bands, or any band like that."

I nodded. "LexCorp is actually a military supplier. It's one of the reasons Lex Luthor, the founder and CEO, is so stupidly rich. They can't block military frequencies back home because military frequencies are different there. These phones aren't even able to by default, but someone rather cleverly overclocked the 'FindMe' application. It's supposed to broadcast on a wide band to tell any device in range that there's a lost or injured hiker, but with no apps or infrastructure on the other side of the program, it just interfered with our comms. It probably wouldn't last long, drains the battery pretty fast and the jamming range wouldn't be very good... for one phone, anyway. That's probably why they had four. Boosted the jamming range. With certain unlocked apps, they could scan for and jam bugs, but those aren't standard. Good for corporate privacy. They can't go up against dedicated hardware, or more powerful equipment, but LexCorp sells those too. With a twenty year tech advantage, the civilian stuff beat our radios. They wouldn't have to manage a complete jam either. Just play enough static over our frequencies to keep the convoy from calling for help. These probably didn't manage on their own, even with that advantage."

Armsmaster nodded slowly, the chair beneath him creaking under the weight of his power armor. "We thought it was the pass itself, but with the added interference from these devices, it was enough. The more pressing concern is they definitely managed to get information from us. Our route, our schedule, who would be on duty. Geist launched his diversion at the same moment we were ambushed."

Challenger snorted. "That's easy. One of ours told Allfather. Only explanation."

I nodded with a grimace. "If this was back home and networks were more of a thing, I'd say they'd definitely have a bug in our computer systems, but most of our stuff is on paper. The internet's barely a thing. While there are emails and such, it's not as prevalent as back home. So someone's leaking info. We're going to have to go over everyone with a fine-toothed comb. At least one person in this building doesn't like having a black boss, and where there's one Nazi there's probably three more."

Here I am unable to manifest a Lasso of Truth. It'd have made things so much easier.

Velocity spoke, his voice thoughtful. "My question is if this is tech from Sunstorm's universe, how did the Empire get their hands on it?"

Armsmaster nodded. "Too many possibilities. We still don't know how Sunstorm got here. Most likely is Professor Haywire stole them and brought them over, but that doesn't explain the time differential. Everything we ever seized from Haywire was either from the current year or earlier. Though it's hard to get anything from him, he's one of the most elusive villains ever since Scion showed up."

I nodded. "These are models from 2019."

"How'd you know that?" Miss Milita spoke, her voice filled with curiosity.

"It's stamped on the case." I flipped one phone over, showing the tiny print.

Travers folded his arms. "How dangerous would these be, out there? Could they be used to coordinate off the known grid? Could they interfere with known infrastructure, or break encryption codes?"

I waggled my hand back and forth. "They've got the processing power, but without the SD cards telling the cell towers who owns the phone, or the infrastructure to take those signals, they're a lot more limited. Sending out a general radio signal is pretty easy, and they might be able to tie up an emergency line, but the other half of the stuff can't be done without the internet infrastructure to hook into. Think of it like a lock and key. These things are keys, but the locks don't exist here, they haven't been invented yet. Even without that, though, they can do a lot, though honestly I don't know how destructive they can be. If a Tinker gets their hands on them, or an interested layman for that matter, they'll have access to hard drives with around a hundred twenty gigabytes, fast processors, and software optimized for these things."

A moment passed, then Challenger lifted her hand. "Translation for the non-nerds?"

Armsmaster had a slight smile on his lips. "One of these has about the same amount of information storage as fifteen top of the line current computers. Tinkers have made comparable works, but they're one-offs. They can't be mass-produced, and non-Tinkertech computers with that kind of space and flexibility are used in NASA."

Another moment passed, then Challenger spoke again. "Can you dumb it down a shade?"

I laughed softly. "The phones themselves aren't that dangerous. Jamming signals is probably the best that a gang can do with them. The big concern is if a villain Tinker can get their hands on them. If they do, we might get something way beyond expected technology."

Travers nodded slowly. "More importantly is whether these are simply salvage or whether someone in Sunstorm's world is deliberately providing material aid. LexCorp is the manufacturer, would its head supply the Empire?"

I shook my head. "Lex Luthor wouldn't supply Nazis. If anything he'd happily supply them rockets and bombs by launching them at said Nazis. He might use them, but they'd probably end up dead at the end of whatever mission they go on. Nazis are bad for business, they don't hold up their ends of the deal, and sooner or later they go off and do something stupid which throws all the plans out the window. If he is supplying someone here, it'd probably be..."

"Marquis." Both I and Travers said in unison.

Challenger's eye was narrow. "We never did find out what was in that pallet back at the civic center, did we?"

"Sorry, I'm still stuck on how these things got here in the first place." Velocity said. "A Haywire portal? Being smuggled by Haywire? This 'Luthor' guy having a portal in his basement? Another however-the-whatever that got you here, Sunstorm?"

I sighed. "No freaking idea. It's not easy looking around where I landed, being the goddamned North Pole. I have ideas, but I'm not expert on multiversal physics and I don't know what to look for. There's a lot of possibilities when it comes to this kind of thing, but in this I'm a grunt. I know a fair bit more about genetic codes, but that's on the theory level rather than practical."

"That's above our paygrade." Travers said. "In the meantime, we'll interrogate our captures. Armsmaster, I'll want you to analyse the phones as much as you can."

Judging from how he grinned, Armsmaster looked like a kid who just got a second Christmas right after the first.

I cleared my throat. "Just one thing. LexCorp phones tend to wipe or brick themselves if they detect hardware tampering. They'd be physically fine, but if you want the software, you're going to have to be careful. I can't give you more info than that because I had a WayneTech phone. Had being the operative word."

He nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

----------

The next morning found me in the HQ's gym. Technically speaking it was my day off, but I still had nowhere to live, so staying on base was about my only option. I was still browsing for land to purchase, my options for building a house. The money from the bounties would certainly give me more options, there. More helpfully, now that we were past Christmas, I could actually go to the bank and deposit those checks.

Still, I had to work off a bit of stress, try and push myself a bit, and prepare for whatever might come next.

No, I wasn't lifting weights. That was rather pointless. I lifted a million pounds yesterday, and it wasn't even that hard. Now granted, I'd lifted that kind of mass before, and actually it was a lot harder when someone was trying to pound my face in at the time.

No, what I was working on was finesse.

On the gym mat, I faced off against an imaginary opponent. My right fist back, held low. Left hand up, palm open, toward the enemy. Knees bent, feet ready to move. It was a useful opening stance. Ready to defend, to slap a blow aside and counter.

Step to the side. Turn, palm out. Kick down, break the opponent's knee. Chop across the neck. Step an...goddamn it. I twisted in the air to regain my balance, my feet landing on the gym mat. If that happened in a real fight, most likely I'd get hit, slammed to the ground, and had my face pounded in.

It was fucking frustrating. I went through the motions, the katas I was familiar with, but they were just a bit off.

I threw punches to the air. Wild haymakers, no finesse or grace, just sheer raw strength. The air rippled with the force of the blows, my fists warming as the shockwaves from the displaced air made the punching bags on the other side of the room jerk and shudder on their chains. One was pushed far enough that it fell off its hook and hit the ground with a thud.

"'With every step, an earthquake.' No shit, Big Blue." I muttered.

I took a deep breath and started again from the top. Opening stance. Step aside, turn, block the incoming blow...

It was probably about fifteen minutes into my exercise the gym door swung open. Challenger walked in with a pair of boxing gloves under her arm, wearing gray pants and a black sports bra. Her eyepatch was slightly askew, and her hair was sticking up in every direction. She rather blearily went over to the punching bags, stopped for a moment as she noticed one on the floor, then turned and looked at me. I was still going through my katas, occasionally stumbling in the motions.

"Taking some frustration out on the bags? I'm surprised one hasn't exploded." She chuckled.

I spoke, not stopping as I kept trying to remaster my body. "Knocked it off the spot from over here. If I did hit it with my fist, it probably would."

She nodded. "Considering you're a Brute on the level of Alexandria, I wouldn't be surprised." Challenger then strapped her gloves on and started pounding the closest bag, the bag swinging back and forth on its chain.

"Didn't see you at the canteen." Challenger said conversationally.

"Didn't sleep much." I said, huffing as I tried to keep up my concentration.

"Bad dreams?"

I sighed. "A little. It's not the first time I saw someone die. In one way I'm glad it's not an easy thing. I'm a lot more responsible for the deaths of the Slaughterhouse, and that bugged me a bit. It's just..."

I stumbled a little as one of my motions put me off balance again. I huffed, retried it, trying to push through that moment of balance. Over-extending, under-extending, argh. I balled up a fist and smashed it into my palm, the sound echoing in the room. It sounded just a bit less loud than a gunshot.

Challenger had stopped hitting the punching bag and was looking at me with concern.

I sighed as I shifted back to my opening stance, then started again, trying to keep my movements under control. "When I first got my powers, a lot of us were trained and mentored by Superman. He taught us how to handle our powers, as at least some of us would get abilities like his own. How to be aware in combat, how to fight, how not to fight, how to resolve conflicts. Even how to talk down a crowd... I never managed that part very well. People are usually too afraid of me for de-escalation."

"If it helps, I'm not afraid of you." Challenger said, her voice gentle.

I smiled slightly, moving through the stances. "I appreciate that. Anyway, Superman's kind of... everyone looks up to him. I try to follow in his example, but I'm just not able to do everything he does. I get that he's still got more experience than I do, and he's got more... well, rather different abilities than me. He'd have been able to see through Purity's light, for example. He'd have been able to see she was injured and done something about it."

She nodded, unstrapping her gloves, then put them over her shoulder. "Feel bad about her dying?"

I sighed. "A little. Don't get me wrong, better that she go than you, or Armsmaster, or Stevens, or any one of ours. It's... look, the heroes back home have a standard. We try not to kill, limit collateral damage as much as possible. There are exceptions, and there are times when a Kill Order is necessary, but that is very rare. We've got powers far beyond those of ordinary police, or military, and so we try our best to hold to a higher standard. I've seen a world where the most powerful beings on Earth acted as the villains, and it's a terrifying place."

Step left, strike, turn, duck, turn, ki-fuck. I took a moment to reset my balance, then kept talking as I kept going through the motions. "I'm a bit more annoyed at my current state, really. If I'd been in the best shape I remember, I'd have been able to take out Purity more cleanly. Even kept the Empire grunts from being killed. Hell, I'd have been able to just tank that hit back when..." I sighed. "Before you lost your eye."

A ghost of a smile lifted on her lips. "I don't blame you for that."

I sighed, while taking a moment to roll my shoulders. "Yeah. But I do. I know it's not rational, I've been doing the best I could, and it rankles that I have been better than I am right now. I managed to capture a bunch of maniacal murderers without killing any of them, but failed to capture one panicking Blaster. Among the League I'm a midlister, but compared to the kinds of heroes and powers... before," Challenger nodded in understanding at what I was saying at that word. "I'm closer to the upper end of things than the lower. I'm not upset that a neo-Nazi died, I'm upset that I wasn't good enough to stop things before that point. I should be able to capture a bunch of normals with guns, no problem. They should have the chance to stand trial, even if I know what kind of sentence they're going to get. Only time I ever lost it on someone unpowered was..."

Challenger's lips parted, clearly hesitant to ask the question.

The smell of burned flesh filled my nostrils. A Nazi flag fluttered from the top of the castle, the edges torn by stray bullets and explosions. The Allies were storming the building, digging through its ancient halls and uncovering horrors that I would read in the history books some fifty years from now.

It was so very different to see and smell it all in person. To see a pile of corpses, hastily burned, the slaves the regime had murdered as they saw our approach.

Hippolyta came up next to me, the cloak around her shoulders providing her scant protection from the winter's chill. Even now it was so odd to see her in such a similar red, blue and gold outfit I so associated with her daughter. "Such horrors these men commit."

"Such horrors other men fight to end, too." I replied.

Her lip quirked slightly, though there was no humor in it.

I shook my head. "It's complicated. Time travel. Let's just say the 1940s was especially shitty. It was an age of classic heroes, but seeing it firsthand was horrific."

"Can't imagine it was much better here." Challenger said dryly. "On another note, I can see you're having some issues with your... actually I don't recognize the style, but I can tell it's more martial arts than boxing. Mind if I give you a few pointers?"

"Sure. Can't piss me off any more than I already am." I went back to my initial stance, sucking in a breath.

She nodded. "It looks like your motions are just a bit... off. Like you're expecting some of your blows to go a bit further than they do. Or your kick earlier. There's a bit of wasted motion and it threw you off balance."

I sighed. "Yeah. It's something I'm trying to work on. I think I got fried by the whatever-the-fuck sent me here. It's one of the things I'm trying to get back up to snuff. I'm strong, but there are things stronger than me back home, and my skills are how I closed the gap. I'm just... screwing up my stances, my blows."

Challenger nodded again, a slight look of amusement in her eye. "Yes. I think I see what's going on, though. Did you augment your style with your flight?"

I dropped my hands. "Fuck."

Of course it was that. The Exobyte guided my motions, not control but... it must have acted as an assist to my blows, my dodging, my balance. It was unconscious, natural even... only now I had to concentrate to fly. It was getting easier every day, but it wasn't like flipping a switch as it was previously. I must have been using my flight to make some of the movements work they way they should and never realized, even over the last ten years, because it was just normal.

I sighed. "How'd you guess that?"

Challenger grinned. "I see faster. Sorta. I can read a book really fast, or motions in a fight. For me it looks like everything's in slow motion when I want it to. So I read you. Kinda."

I nodded. "I get it. Well, knowing the problem and fixing the problem are two different things. I still need to work on it."

"Mind if I help? I still need to work up a sweat before breakfast."

I smiled. "Yeah. I think I'd like that."

The Empire was laying low, licking its wounds. With Alabaster in custody, and both Magni and Modi held in a Brute-level detention facility, the rest of the lineup was going to have to be careful. Their other concern was that neo-Nazi gang members tended to be rather cowardly. They talk a good game but only a few were willing to actually get into a fight without overwhelming firepower on their side.

If we wanted a chance at removing their influence from Brockton Bay, we'd have to take out Allfather. I'd say we'd also have to take out Kaiser, so the heir couldn't step in, but apparently Marquis had beaten us to the punch. Makes sense, as he'd apparently been murdered not long before I arrived in the city. Still, even if we did a clean sweep of the Nazis in one night, we'd still have Marquis and the Teeth to deal with.

Still, things were relatively quiet as everyone tried to figure out their next move. That left me with a bit of time to work with. It also meant I could finally get some business out of the way.

The first thing I did on the bright and cheerless Tuesday, December 28th, was open a bank account at Brockton Central Bank.

"No I'm not here to rob the place." "Yes, the horns are real." "Yes, I am a Protectorate member." "Yes, really." "Yes, this check is real." "Yes it is fifteen million dollars." "No, I am not shitting you." "I'm aware this may be the only time I ever have to walk in here in person."

I wish I could say that was an uncommon conversation, but it was rather normal even back home. At least Raven didn't always look like a demon, but here I am...

No, no. Stop. No sense in dwelling on it. Deal with the things I can change, and don't dwell on the things I can't.

The second place I went this day was the Docks District. With the Albert blocking the main access to the harbor, most of the shipping industry here had died off. While civilian boats still went in and out, and there were ships that entered to supply the city, most of the larger industry had shifted their focus elsewhere. Instead of a thriving industrial city both taking in and shipping things out, Brockton had gone mostly into technology and online jobs.

Hopefully today that would start changing.

Landing at the front offices for the Dockworker's Union, I found it to be a converted warehouse. Sea salt had somewhat rusted the exterior, though it wasn't in too terrible a shape. There weren't any holes large enough for people to walk through, at least. If things didn't improve in Brockton, though, I could easily see it becoming a miniature Gotham.

I was powerful, but I wasn't a fool. I couldn't turn things around on my lonesome. It was necessary to fight at times, but it was even more necessary to build. All I could do here was open up possibilities that were otherwise out of reach.

I found a news van, a limo and a Porsche sitting out in front of the office, looking a bit out of place compared to the pickup trucks and more rough-looking cars belonging to the working class. I felt a little nostalgic on looking at the Porsche, actually. I had wanted one when I was fifteen. Then I got the ability to fly and the point was rather moot.

Stepping into the office, I found seven people waiting for me, chatting among themselves with good cheer. Mayor Roy Christner was speaking with an older blond man, the latter's hair turned more gray with age. The third man was thin, but with wiry muscles, looking like an accountant who put in occasional time at the physical side of things. There was also one blonde woman leaning on a cane, one adorable little girl, and two more in costume, a man and woman, their suits having an obvious lightning bolt motif.

"Ah, the woman of the hour!" Mayor Christner said, full of cheer.

I nodded with a smile. "Mayor Christner, good to meet you in person."

He held out his hand, and I gently shook it.

"Glad to be here today." Christner said. "If you can pull this off, it'll give our city a great deal of attention and a possibility at the recovery of the city's economy. I hope you don't mind if this is recorded?"

I shook my head. "Not at all. I just hope this works as easily as I want it to."

The seeming-accountant nodded. "I'm not going to say it's going to be sunshine right after, but it'll be easier. We'd still have to attract business." He gave me a smile and offered his hand. "Danny Hebert, head of hiring for the Dockworker's Union."

I shook his hand gently. "I'm Sunstorm. It's a pleasure."

Then suddenly I was ambushed by a four year old glomping onto my leg. I blinked and looked down, seeing very clear little blue eyes looking up at me. The adults in the room either tittered in amusement or had repressed smiles.

"Hi!" She chirped.

"Why hello." I grinned and gently ruffled her hair. "And you are?"

"I'm Julie! Thank you!"

I chuckled. "You're quite welcome, though I'm not sure what you're thanking me for."

The blonde with the cane stepped forward, and now that I was looking I could see her foot was covered in a boot-cast. "When Danny let slip that you were coming down, Julia insisted on meeting you." She held out her hand, a small smile on her lips. "Maria Tanner. You saved our lives on Flight 197."

Oh. Right. I nodded with understanding, and shook her hand. "It's good to meet you. I was just doing what I could. Thankfully it was good enough."

"I certainly share that sentiment." The older blond man spoke with a genial smile. "You also saved my life on that flight." He held out his hand. "Richard Anders, of Medhall."

I shook his hand, taking a moment to think. "Pharma company, right? I'm still trying to familiarize myself with everything around here."

His smile widened, and he nodded. "Yes, our headquarters are here in Brockton Bay. Mostly white-collar work, but I'm still interested in seeing how things might change if you pull this off. It opens, or rather reopens, a lot of opportunities. Ever since the strike this city's been rotting. This might help staunch that, help in rebuilding." Then he gave me a respectful nod. "Also I did want to thank you for saving my life, personally. Work does keep me busy, but things opened up enough that I decided to take the opportunity."

I nodded with a smile. "I'm glad it worked. Believe it or not, it's the first time I had to catch a plane. At least from underneath."

He laughed at that. "Well, I'm glad you're a fast learner! Things could have been rather ugly otherwise."

Christner chuckled. "Quite. In any case, we asked Lady Photon and Manpower here to give you some backup on this." He gestured to the costumed pair.

"Hell of a thing if you can move that monster." Lady Photon said, holding out her hand. Her face and hair was hidden behind a white mask, her eyes hidden by goggles, though her lips were visible. "You've been making a pretty big wave here in Brockton. It's good to see."

I shook her hand in return, smiling. "Part of the job."

"We're here to help back you up." Manpower said, nodding his head. His own mask was similar enough to his partner's, enough to conceal while being approachable. "It's not often we get asked to do something other than fighting villains, so it'll be a good change of pace."

Danny spoke, pushing his glasses up as they slipped down his nose. "We've had some of our guys go over the Albert. She's pretty rusty in places, but below the waterline the main damage is the hole blasted into the side when she was scuttled. It's not going to be easy to move. The ship itself weighs in at 150,000 tons, and the water filling it is going to make that a whole lot harder. If you can move the entire thing, that'll be great, but we've marked the best sections to tear it apart by if you have to do it. There's some oil and engine byproducts we don't want leaking out of the engine compartment. It can be dealt with, but not if it gets into the harbor."

I nodded. "We still can't leave it. Sooner or later it'd get out anyway. And this city needs something, some event to help show that a better tomorrow's possible. One day I won't be here. Something's going to call me away, or something else will happen. I might as well do what I can to get this done before it happens."

Anders lifted his head in consideration. "You plan on participating in the next Endbringer battle?"

I nodded again, letting out a sigh. "Among other things, yes."

Julie's voice piped up from my currently captive leg. "You can do it! I bet you can just punch Bemleth in the face!"

I looked down at her with a grin. "That is the plan."

Maria laughed softly. "All right sweetie. I'm pretty sure Sunstorm is going to need her leg to get this done."

"Awww."

Everyone looked at me.

I shrugged. "What? She's adorable. But yes, I really do need my leg."

----------

The Albert was... well, it wasn't the biggest ship I'd ever seen, but it certainly came in around the top five. Then again, I never was that big of a ship fan. Before I got powers I'd never put thought into how stuff got around the world. After I did I was more concerned with getting myself around the world. A big-ass ship like this could absolutely move a stupid amount of stuff... and currently it was half-sunk at the harbor entrance, preventing anything even half its size from getting to the docks. It was the death knell of blue-collar work for this city. The arrival of Leviathan on the world stage didn't help, as investing in removing the ship might be rather pointless when an angry Kaiju might come along and trash the hard work again.

More than seven hundred feet long. Rusted and damaged from constant exposure to sea salt and no maintenance. It looked like a corpse of a once-proud ship, and despite the fact I knew very little about ships at all, I felt somewhat sad, standing on its deck.

From here I could see the spot I was expected to drop off the ship, whether intact or in pieces. It was only five hundred feet away, in the middle of the Boat Graveyard. Without the heavy equipment and political will, it may as well have been on the far side of the moon.

The Channel Six news van was parked some distance away from the dropoff point, and the crew was set up. A red-headed reporter was saying something toward the camera pointed at him, though I couldn't hear a word from here.

"So what's your part in the plan?" I spoke to Lady Photon, floating beside me.

She chuckled. "Give you some backup if you really can lift this entire ship, stop leaks if they appear. I can do forcefields and lasers, so if we need to cut it up I can handle that part. Manpower will follow on the ground, and also keep an lookout for anything that might come up. He's pretty strong himself, though nowhere near enough for this kind of thing. If nothing else, he'd sink into the ground if he lifted the ship, and I'm too fond of him to risk seeing him crushed underneath it."

I tilted my head, my tone teasing. "What, and you don't mind if I get crushed underneath?"

Her voice was equally teasing. "Well, we just met. You'd have to buy me a coffee before I'd start worrying about that kind of thing."

"Good to know all it takes to be cared about is a coffee." I said dryly. Lifting my feet off the deck, I flew behind the ship and dived below the deckline, hovering just above the water.

Now this was going to be a problem. I could handle cold temperatures, at least to a point. The water wasn't colder than the Arctic, after all. The problem was the water, despite being warmer than the air way up north, was still going to steal away my heat if I went below the surface. It would also prevent me from using my pyrokinesis. If something hit me, I'd be... well, not vulnerable, but more vulnerable than otherwise.

A while back there was a big problem with a civil war in Atlantis, and I wasn't able to help with that at all. I ran radio support while Blackwing and Bitterleaf had their adventures down there. Blackwing in a stupidly-reinforced diving combat suit, and Bitterleaf just telling the ocean to 'fuck off, I'm now a shark-woman.'

During the summer I wouldn't feel too concerned with diving below the waterline and lifting the ship up, but with the water being at or below freezing temperatures, it wouldn't end well.

So just above the waterline, I dug my hands into the rusted metal and secured my grip. Very, very carefully, I started pushing up and forward, my wings flapping madly.

The ship didn't budge.

Lady Photon came up beside me, hovering effortlessly. "You really think that'll work? I mean you're at the back, even if you do manage to move it from here you'll probably just crumple the metal or tear it off."

I grunted with exertion. "I lifted a plane without breaking it, despite that. Things work weird around superheroes back home." I stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"It's all right, Sunstorm." Superman's gentle voice spoke from behind me. "It takes time to learn."

I looked on the crumpled rock in front of me in frustration. It was about the size of a car, and the strength-testing back on the Watchtower said I was more than strong enough to lift it. But despite that, when I did try to grab it all I did was take off chunks from the surface.

Superman stepped forward, grabbing the boulder from the top. He dug his fingers in, then lifted it without a single sign of trouble. "It's not just strength. We can do impossible things." He gestured with his free hand at the boulder. "Physics says this should break apart, like it did on yours. Yet it's holding together."

I sighed as I dusted off my hands. "Yeah, but you're you."

"Last time I checked." He said with some humor.

I chuckled and shook my head. "I'm not sure I can do it, Big Blue."

He gave me an encouraging smile, even as he set the boulder back down on the ground. "I bet you can. You've managed to display a good number of my powers. A lot of the Exobyte-empowered can, too. They've had issues as well, but most manage it. How do you think you fly?"

"I... just do."

He shook his head. "I mean your wings aren't big enough to let you fly. They flap and move, help you cut through the air, but if you were flying the way a bird or bat does, they'd have to be much bigger. They'd need more muscle. You can also fly in the upper atmosphere, where the air is thin. I bet you can fly in vacuum, too. You're already breaking physics, in at least a few ways. I'm sure you can break it here too."

I huffed, clenching my hands as I stepped forward to grasp the boulder again.

"Think of it as a whole." Superman advised. "There might be weight, there might be mass, but it's a whole. One piece. Mind over matter. With powers like ours, what's important is that we have the will to change things. Rocks don't."

"Mind over matter." I muttered.

It didn't matter what the tensile strength of steel was. It didn't matter how heavy this ship was. What mattered was it was dead material, with no will of its own. I had will and I wanted it to move.

So move.

Move.

You will fucking move because you're a stupid hunk of metal that got dug out of the ground one day, we tricked you into floating, and I'm going to trick you into flying you goddamn stupid hunk of rust!

Behind the lenses of her mask, I could see Lady Photon's eyes widen as the metal of the Albert's hull started groaning. The ship shifted forward an inch, a cloud of silt and dirt boiling up under the water. The smell of salt and rust grew stronger.

My muscles trembled, my fingers hurt, my wings started to hurt.

But the Albert, all 150,000 tons of it, started to move for the first time in years. Inches at a time, my every muscle trembling at the work, the hull groaning in protest. Slowly, ponderously, achingly, against all the laws of physics, leverage, and logic, the ship slowly began moving up out of the water as I hauled its protesting stupid metal mass up. It was a rock humans had tricked into floating once, and I just had to do it again for a few minutes.

Lady Photon pulled back, muttering something under her breath. I didn't really notice, as my head throbbed with the effort of what I was doing. Along with everything else. Still, the ship rose. One foot. Ten feet. Twenty. Thirty. Finally the hole in the hull came clear of the waterline, and the water within started flowing out in a roar. I gasped with a breath of relief as the sheer weight became a bit easier, but it sure as shit wasn't easy.

I grit my teeth, hard enough for them to crack. Metal groaned threateningly, though it lessened as the water kept pouring out. The burden became somewhat easier with every passing second. I could taste blood in my mouth, however. It wasn't a pleasant taste.

"That's it Sunstorm." Manpower's voice crackled in my ear. "Just move it forward. You're above the beach, you're coming up on the spot. Nice and slow, no sudden movements."

Easy for you to say.

Every muscle shook. My head throbbed. I could feel blood trickling down my lips. I just had to concentrate. Move it gently, don't drop it. Don't sneeze.

Of course my nose started itching right now.

"Alright, you're over it. Now bring it down, nice and easy."

Oh thank fucking God.

Very slowly, I let gravity take over some of the burden. The ship's bow dropped downward, the rocky beach beneath it letting out a crunch of protest. The ship sank into the beach, displacing sand and rock through its sheer weight. Metal groaned. I groaned. I swear I could hear my bones groaning.

Finally, I let go, and the Albert rested on the rocky beach next to the other ships in the Graveyard. Now, however, it was accessible. That was the most important part. Now people with saws and equipment could actually take it apart.

The sound of applause, cheering, whistling, shouts of celebration reached me. I tiredly turned to see the Mayor, Hebert, the news crew, and ten or so dockworkers clapping for me, broad smiles on their faces. I could see cameras focused on me, so I took a moment to wipe my mouth and give them a smile. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed right now, though.

Anders wasn't clapping. He had his hands behind his back, his eyes were wide, his face pale. He looked like he wanted to say something. Finally, he shook his head, and joined in on the applause. Even so, despite the smile on his lips, I could see a look of deep-rooted fear in his eyes.

The next few days were fairly uneventful. Patrols went smoothly, nothing that needed our specific attention to come up. It seemed my demonstration had the desired effect. Nobody wanted to be on the bad side of someone who moved something as heavy as a skyscraper around.

So after my shifts, I was filing through the upcoming bit of paperwork, now that I had both bank account and identification. A permanent address. While living on-base was no doubt wonderful for the bank account that I just got, I already had more than fifteen million in it. If I was careful, I wouldn't have to work another day in my life. Put it in the right accounts, and investments, I could live off the interest until the 31st century and be even richer than I started.

If I was still around then, of course. Considering what the Byte had done to me, I might be ageless, or I might keel over the second I turned thirty. I doubted that, and I truly hoped not, as I would turn thirty pretty soon. At least on my own personal timeline. Still, it was the principle of the thing. The future was uncertain.

At least, as far as financials go. According to the projections I'd managed to dig up while researching, assuming just the two Endbringers kept attacking cities every six months on average, society would collapse within eighty years. It just took too much to rebuild. That was also assuming the Trigger rate kept going upward, as well. Even without the Endbringers a lot of nations would eventually collapse due to unstable people doing damage. Eventually things would stabilize, but at best there would be fiefdoms being ruled by the strongest parahumans in an area. It'd be an apocalypse with the only real workable government being feudal. Not bad if you have an enlightened ruler, really goddamned terrible if you didn't.

Around here I qualified much closer to the top of the ranks than I was used to, but I wasn't under any illusion that I could change that trend on my own. Strong as my hands were, they couldn't change the world on their own. All I can do is give it a chance. Try to help be an example to others, like Kal did. Only problem is, well, it's harder for me to be that example when people are just plain afraid of what I looked like.

Still, he inspired me. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for him. Least I could do is the best I could while following in his footsteps.

But, all of this was tomorrow's problem. Today's problem was finding a place to rest my head. Staying on base was workable, but it wasn't mine. I wanted my very own personal junk mail to incinerate! My own lawn to shoo those annoying kids away from! My own Jehovah's Witnesses to send running screaming a-... actually that kind of happened no matter what I did. It's not like I could or should live in a cave, or something.

Though living in a cave did have a certain primitive appeal. Pretty sure I could pull off a very flattering fur bikini. It'd be useless in a fight but might be fun if I found a special someone.

So I was rifling through things, looking for a section of rural land to buy. Since I could fly, I had no worries about a daily commute, and I wasn't looking to buy a mansion or anything like that. I'd be happy with a little homestead. A nice fireplace, somewhere to chop wood, maybe play fetch with a dog.

So after marking off a few possibilities outside of Brockton Bay itself, I set the papers into my desk drawer and went to the common room. Might as well join everyone for New Year's.

----------

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

"Happy New Year!" We chorused, raising our glasses, taking a drink. Challenger and I were drinking champagne. Armsmaster had a glass of something called 'Bailey's.' Miss Militia was sitting back on a couch, a hot cocoa in hand.

More importantly, both Nighthawk and Trevor were standing together. Trevor wasn't smiling, but the two were talking back and forth, and the poor kid seemed to be somewhat more relaxed and less fragile than he had been. Maybe it was just because he was in a group of people he wasn't so afraid of. Maybe it was simply that he wasn't alone.

Challenger gave me a little nudge to my ribs, a smirk on her lips. "Any resolutions?"

I chuckled. "Yeah. Make 2000 a better year for me this time around."

She furrowed her brow for a moment, then shook her head. "Right. Time travel. At least maybe time travel. You know, Sun, the funniest part about all of this is every time I learn a bit more about you, the more insane yet somehow fitting it sounds."

I snorted, giving a shake of my head. "Not like all of this is any less insane to me. Last time I saw the year 2000, I was six for most of it, and my biggest problem was dealing with Jason Blum, who kept pulling on my hair and ripped my doll's head off."

Challenger grinned. "Sounds like a little shit."

"Yeah, but in fairness, he was six."

"Still a little shit."

We shared a laugh.

"So what's your plan?" I asked, taking another drink from my glass.

She smiled, her eye going distant. "Find myself a bitchin' new axe. Push my limits a bit. Take up a hobby. Maybe pottery. Can't be fighting all the time."

I nodded with a smile. "I get it. Got to do something to stay sane. Non-stop combat grates on anyone."

Challenger nodded, a smirk on her lips. "It is a thrill, better than anything else. But yeah, it's important to rest now and again. Also important to be fighting for more than a paycheck."

"There a story there?" I asked gently. "Don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I get that it can be a pretty sensitive topic."

She took a moment to gather her thoughts, then let out a sigh. "I appreciate that. After... well, you know, after." I nodded in comprehension. "Things were pretty shitty. Ricochet was still a member of the Protectorate here... There was also a street gang calling themselves the Raiders. They... I'm going to skip most of the details, but they and I had some bad blood. Ricochet figured out I had powers and brought me in before I killed anyone. Left quite a few broken bones, though."

I nodded. "What happened to the Raiders?"

Challenger shrugged indifferently. "They pissed off the Butcher. Butcher put them into shallow graves." Her face twisted into a grimace. "Ricochet got the Butcher after that... though at the time we didn't know anything about how the Butcher worked. We thought Two was a legacy cape, just taking the name of the first. So Ricochet became Three."

"Damn. I'm sorry." I sighed.

She shrugged again. "It's been a while. Five years. Still miss that dumb lug, but no helping it. He only lasted a few days before he threw himself at the Teeth."

"Still doesn't make me feel any better."

Challenger gave me a wry grin. "It's okay. It's an old scar, now. How about you? Got a mopey story for me?"

I nodded. "Only fair." I tapped my left horn. "After I got these, my roommate signed up for the Justice League. She got her powers at the same time. I... well, everything was going to shit for me at once. Got kicked out my dorm for being a fire hazard. Which, you know, fair. I did set my bed on fire that first night."

"Talk about nocturnal issues." Challenger snickered.

I nodded with a chuckle. "Things were collapsing around me, so I tried to go home. Only my father called me a spawn of Satan and shut the door in my face. Things were... really, really bad. I thought I had no friends... but my roomie managed to get ahold of Superman. I'm not sure how she did it, pulled strings for things to go that fast, but he showed up and kept me from doing something deliberately stupid."

I could see she got it, with the way her eye widened. "Well shit. Glad that didn't happen."

"Yeah." I nodded. "Me too. I owe them both a lot." I finished off my glass, then spoke with false cheer. "Wanna go watch some fireworks?"

She grinned. "Fuck yeah."

----------

The fireworks were nice. We all stayed up too late, at least those of us who didn't have patrol in the morning. I had spotted Trevor and Nighthawk having their own time to themselves, though as a Ward the latter couldn't stay up too late. I myself hit the hay around two in the morning.

I was roused by my comm beeping on the stand next to my bed. Blearily I opened an eye, looked at it, then the clock. I'd been asleep for about six hours. Still, I did feel marginally better, so I got up and put my comm in my ear and clicked it on.

"Sunstorm."

"It's Armsmaster." The Tinker's rough voice spoke into my ear. "I have something, and I'd like your input. Can you come down to the lab?"

I checked my clock one more time, sighed, then nodded to myself. "Give me twenty minutes."

----------

I was busy drinking a hot coffee, wincing as I could feel it running over my cracked teeth. It would take a bit for new ones to grow in, which was annoying, but better than having them be permanently busted.

Currently Armsmaster was dressed in a blue bodysuit, his eyes hidden behind a visor. He had one of the LexCorp phones disassembled, examining the parts intently, manipulating them with tweezers. Another was set off to the side, so-far intact.

He looked up as I cleared my throat, and he had a slight smile on his lips. "Sunstorm, welcome. Thank you for the warning on the phones. The first one I opened did wipe its memory, but I managed to prevent the second one from clearing itself." He waved me over to his computer, where I could see he'd wired up a crude interface to connect another disassembled phone to the computer tower.

I smiled. "I'm surprised you managed to get them talking to each other."

He tilted his head, a slight smile on his lips. "Took a bit, but a computer science major would have been able to manage. Probably not without tripping the safeguards, however." His tone turned more businesslike as he shook the mouse, getting his computer out of screensaver mode. "The phones are mostly clean of data, so they weren't used much. They did carry a log of interesting information, however."

I frowned. "How did you get in so easily? Wasn't there a passcode to unlock it?"

Armsmaster sounded amused. "I figured out the codes on all of them in about twenty minutes. It was-"

"Wait, let me guess. 1488?"

His smile broadened. "Exactly. How did you know?"

I shrugged. "They had to give them to Nazi grunts, and Nazi grunts think they're really clever when they're really stupid. The 'Fourteen Words' rant, and 'Heil Hitler' is something they'd think we'd never guess at for a code. I wouldn't count on the leadership being that stupid, but the grunts? They need something simple they won't forget, and all of them are going to come up with the same stupid idea because smart ones aren't allowed in that crowd."

Armsmaster just chuckled under his breath. "Sounds like you've got some experience."

I shook my head. "Met the original Nazis. They were slightly smarter, but still the same stupidities ran rampant." I gestured to the computer. "So what's the information?"

He nodded, taking a moment to clear his throat. "You mentioned GPS before, and the phones logged where they had been. My first thought was to find where the base is, where they were just before they were sent out to ambush us. However, these are lacking the protocols to link up with our satellites. But they did log where they were as of three weeks ago, stored in memory."

He brought up the map, showing the phones as their last known location at Brockton... no, wait. The coastline isn't right. Last known location was Gotham. Specifically in the Diamond District, so named because it was a high-scale shopping center that got its start by selling jewels and diamond rings.

Armsmaster spoke softly. "I didn't recognize the city shown, but I did get the coordinates. Assuming that our maps are in synch, despite the different geography, we can find where they were before they arrived on Earth Bet, and thus have an idea of where the portal is. On our coordinate map, it lines up with Downtown, on the southern end of the city. I've got it down to a few feet. Do you happen to recognize the area?"

I nodded. "Gotham City. It's even more screwed up than Brockton Bay, at least in some ways. It does have a fair bit of help, though. That area's a shopping district, though I couldn't tell you what store. Though if a bunch of phones went all at once, probably a LexTouch. So probably not dangerous on the other side directly, but we don't know how dangerous these events are."

I wanted nothing more than to bolt out of the room and go look, but I was aware that this world needed to secure the portal if there was something permanently open there.

Armsmaster's lip twitched in consideration. "I've got some Geiger counters. That's the most important concern. Microwaves we'd notice at a dangerous concentration without them, but x-rays and gamma rays would be much more concerning. Best to prepare just in case."

So I nodded. "Right. Sounds like we've got to roll out, take a nice thorough look. We're going to need some backup to secure the location if the portal is still there."

He gave me a nod. "I'll need thirty minutes. It'll take twenty for a PRT team to assemble, in any case."

"Better get started, then." I sucked in a breath. "I'm not hopeful, but this could be a big deal."

Ian Maxwell, also known as Heimdal, looked around the office, taking a moment to push a stray blond hair our of his eyes. Richard Anders had over the decades gained a great deal of memorabilia. Ivory carvings made to resemble Greek statues. An iron modern art sculpture near the door, looking vaguely like a number of worlds sitting on the branches of some great tree. Though if Heimdal tilted his head, it also looked a bit like a Christmas tree.

Richard himself was standing at the window, hands behind his back. On occasion, the office would fill with multicolored light as the fireworks went off over Captain's Hill park. He stood as still as a statue, obviously deep in thought.

After a moment, Richard spoke. "Anything?"

Ian took another look around, allowing for his power to shift how he perceived the world. Radio spectrum was filled with emissions, washing over everything, but nothing unexpected. Microwaves did broadcast by cellular phones, and from the microwave itself in the kitchen downstairs. It would probably have to be replaced. Infrared was awash in heat, but no unexpected sources. The sky became transparent as he looked through the x-ray and gamma-ray spectrums, the last gasps of exploding stars becoming prominent in his view. Nothing else unexpected. He took one last look toward the Protectorate HQ, and saw nothing amiss, the heroes enjoying their New Year's party.

"We seem to be clear, sir." Ian said, folding his fingers together in front of him.

"Mm." Richard murmured.

Silence dominated the room, before Ian hesitantly spoke. "Sir, the board is waiting for an update on our yearly goals." The Empire wants to know what your orders are.

Richard stayed silent.

Swallowing, Ian tried again. "Sir?"

Richard let out a sigh, his voice filled with anger. "The board wants to know what the yearly goals are. The board..." Richard took a moment to compose himself, his voice turning deathly quiet. "The board needs to know that things on the ground have changed. The city is rife with new opportunities since the 28th. We need to take some calm and considered measures before we have a workable plan for the future."

Ian swallowed. "The board is concerned about the losses of some of our assets. We're attempting to track down the thefts, but we need to know about things going forward." What are we going to do about the captures of Magni, Modi, Alabaster and the death of Purity?

Richard just watched the fireworks for a moment. Ian didn't dare speak as the Empire's leader gathered his thoughts.

Finally, Richard spoke softly. "Tell the board that our focus has to change. Become more reserved. We will invest in recovering lost assets if possible, however it is more important to ensure we don't throw good money after bad. I understand the board's concerns. I am concerned that a hasty course of action could cost us far more than we'd gain in the process."

Ian nodded slowly. "They're not going to like waiting, sir."

Richard turned around slowly, allowing Ian to see his face fully. It was clear that Richard hadn't been sleeping well, dark circles under his eyes, a slight tremor on his lips. "They will simply have to. Sunstorm moved a ship as heavy as this very building before my eyes. That was a demonstration to the... less civilized portions of this city. Things on the ground will change, and we need to change with it. Business as usual is not an option. If we make the wrong investments, we're going to have much worse outcomes than we will if we act in haste. There are certain elements in this city that are going to have a very difficult time with things changing on the ground. We are going to invest in a more long-term strategy. I think.... in four to six months, we'll be able to re-examine the issue."

Four to six months. What would change in four to six... oh.

Bowing his head, Ian smiled. "Understood sir. I'll pass the message on to the board."

Richard smiled slightly. "Thank you, Ian. How are the wife and kids?"

----------

Cairo, Egypt

Had anyone been looking in the middle of the street at the time, they'd have seen a rather curious sight.

The air distorted, rippled, as if heatwaves spontaneously formed themselves into a sphere. Then a white, shimmering curtain of energy sheathed the sphere. It consumed a section of nearby wall, leaving a red-hot section of it carved away into nothingness. The authorities would, no doubt, consider it an act of parahuman vandalism. If they cared about such things. Usually they had greater concerns, with Egypt trying valiantly to not fall under the open dominion of warlords.

Abruptly, the phenomena faded away, though not before depositing its cargo. A man dropped to the ground, letting out a groan of pain as his face kissed the sidewalk.

He immediately let out another yelp of pain as he rolled off the hot surface, flesh burning at the contact. Taking a moment to roll his knees and injured skin on the cooler surface next to his deposit point, he very gingerly got to his feet and looked around.

His hair was white, with either age or stress. The right side of his face was burned over and healed, leaving it with a waxy look. His right eye had been seared shut, likely by the same event. His right arm was missing its forearm, though his left arm was in extraordinary shape, and it was plain to see he had worked very hard to stay in shape. The gray armor on his torso had been damaged in large sections, showing skin that was covered with scars.

His legs were covered with the remnants of scarred gray armor, and all he had on his left hand was a tattered glove. He took a moment to look over himself, take stock of his current health. Then at his surroundings, heavily breathing the cooler night air.

He made his way into the nearest alley, his armored feet not making a single sound.

Through the streets he made his way, familiarizing himself with the lay of the land. When he heard a scream of fright, he paused for only a brief moment, long-honed experience telling him which way it came from. Moving quickly, he arrived at the next alleyway, seeing the reason.

Two men, Middle-Eastern in features. One wearing a tan jacket, the other a white and gray set, suitable for the desert sun. They were dragging a woman out of her home. The pair were laughing, the taller of the pair holding a knife, while his more burly companion was tearing the pajamas off their victim.

"Come lady. Your husband needs to pay his debts." The one with the knife spoke in Arabic. "Cooperate, and you'll return home only mildly damaged. If not..." His smile widened as he gestured with the knife. "Life may be hard as a blind woman."

She froze in the other man's arms, making it easier for his companion to rip at her clothing. He strode forward with the knife, the sharp blade snaking downward- only for the knife-wielder to be intercepted. He left out a scream as the scarred man moved to grab the knife-wielding hand, yank him off balance, then break the forearm with a swift kick. As he was staggering in pain and sudden shock, his feet was swept out from under him, and a powerful punch to the chest left the knife-wielder gasping for breath.

The takedown had taken less than two seconds.

The scarred man got back to his feet, his single eye focusing on the burly one. He had frozen in the sudden attack against his friend, and had wrapped his hand around the woman's neck.

"Back off!" He yelled. "I will break her neck!"

The scarred man was silent.

"I'll do it!" Spittle and flecks of foam came from his lips.

She whined in fear, her brown eyes wide as she faced her would-be rescuer.

Five feet apart. It was far enough that the hostage-taker could twist her neck before most people could respond.

Fingers flexed around her neck. A tensing of the muscles. The burly one's eyes had closed for a brief moment in anticipation. Then the scarred man had moved, so quickly it was almost a blur.

The burly one was screaming. His arm bent the wrong way. The hostage fell to her knees, looking at the pair in fear.

The scarred man nodded to the open door. She took the hint and scrambled inside, closing it.

"Fucking bastard!" The burly man shrieked, his face pale with pain. He tried to get some distance, but the scarred man grabbed him by his shirt and threw him to the ground with seeming ease.

"Where am I?" The scarred man spoke in English.

"Tell you nothing! You understand only barbarian language, anyway!" The burly man spoke in Arabic.

With a slight smile on his damaged face, the scarred man leaned in. "I do understand." He spoke in Arabic. "And you will tell me everything I want to know."

----------

Thirty minutes later, the scarred man was driving out of Cairo. He was wearing a tan jacket, and the car had belonged to the knife-wielder, Mehmed. They would be found in the morning, severely beaten and damaged, but alive.

More importantly, afraid.