Chapter Three
- Parahumans exhibit a common genetic marker.
- The presence of the genetic marker doesn’t guarantee active parahuman abilities.
- Parahuman abilities violate known physical laws.
To summarize: There’s far more that we don’t know than we do know about parahumans.
-“The Origin of Parapowers”, Dr. Matasuko Musashi, 1995
January, 2004
Denver, Colorado
Just Cause Headquarters
Sally sat in the oversized chair and tried not to squirm. She had only been in Juice’s office for a few minutes, but it felt like hours while he glanced through the pertinent parts of her file. She fumed with each slow and deliberate turn of a page.
Patience was a challenge for a speedster.
She’d debated whether to wear her costume, and even went so far as to discuss it with her mother, who suggested that business attire would be more professional. She wanted to make a good impression on the man whom she’d known as long as she could remember, but the mere idea of a blazer and skirt made her itch and chafe. Her mother even offered to go shopping with her and played the ultimate card of offering to pay for it, but Sally wouldn’t hear of it. She dug through the recesses of her closet and found a pair of slacks she could stand to wear and a silky white button-down shirt. She added a muted navy cardigan and figured she looked good enough for anything Juice could throw at her.
Juice had always looked big from afar when she’d seen him at various events attended by Just Cause. As a Just Cause alumnus, her mother often went and brought Sally along to introduce her to heroes past and present as my future Just Cause member. Now that she sat in front of him, he seemed gigantic. He was the kind of black man who looked stylish with his head shaved, and he dressed in Italian silk and leather. He’d gone to law school and been a part-time member of Just Cause in his early twenties. Her mom swore he was the smartest man she’d ever met.
He leaned his considerable frame back in an expensive chair as he turned the pages in Sally’s file. His build and demeanor gave no indication of his unique ability to absorb electricity and convert it into pure strength and resistance to physical damage. “Hmmm . . .” He looked over the edge of his reading glasses at her. “So you’d like to join the team?”
Sally swallowed and licked her lips, her mouth dry as the air in her hometown of Phoenix. She stammered “Y-yes sir,” and hated herself for it. In the Hero Academy, oral exams had always made her queasy. So did interviews, she was learning.
“Why?”
Sally had a thousand reasons to want to be a part of Just Cause: because her mother had been a member; because her father had been killed by Destroyer; because her grandmother was one of the first American superheroes; because she’d watched while members of Just Cause had lost their lives in the destruction of the World Trade Center and the Pentagon in 2001; because she wanted to be part of the greatest superhero team in the world. She opened her mouth to reply and all her pat answers flew away like dandelion seeds on a puff of prairie wind.
Juice smiled. “Tell you what, Sally. This office feels pretty formal. Let’s head down to the cafeteria. The coffee’s fair and the sandwiches are pretty good.” His chair creaked as he drew himself up to his full six foot ten. He held open his office door for her. Sally felt like a toddler next to him. “How is Arizona?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t get home much this fall.”
“Beautiful country down that way. If it wasn’t so hot, I’d enjoy it more. I’ve still got enough East Coast in me to prefer a more urbane setting. How do you like it here in Denver?”
“It’s nice,” she said. “Running’s easier up here.”
“Even though there’s less air to breathe?”
She shrugged. “You get used to it after awhile.”
They took the corridor from Juice’s office to the main lobby. A Native American woman with magnificent feathered wings had just checked in through Security and stepped away from the retinal scanner. She smiled at them with dazzling white teeth, which contrasted her flawless brown skin. The woman’s eyes had bright yellow irises and large pupils like those of a bird. Sally recognized her as Desert Eagle, although they’d never met before.
“Hi, James. Who’s your friend?” Sally felt very small; the winged woman was over six feet tall as well.
“Sondra, this is Salena Thompson, also known as Mustang Sally. Sally, Sondra Eagle, also known as Desert Eagle.”
“Pleased to meet you, Salena. Are you attending the Hero Academy?”
“I just graduated. And you can call me Sally. Nobody calls me Salena except my mom when I’m in trouble.”
“Are you going to do your internship with us?”
“I hope so,” Sally said with a sidelong glance at Juice, who beamed back at her.
“What’s your gig?” Sondra flexed her wings. Her broad and powerful shoulders filled out the custom overcoat she wore against the freezing wind outside.
“I’m a speedster.”
Sondra smiled. “I thought so. I’m sure you’ll do just fine. We need a speedster to fill out the ranks.” Sondra said farewell and headed off into the depths of the headquarters building.
The cafeteria was larger than Sally expected, but then she remembered it catered not only to the team, but also to Just Cause’s hundred-and-some civilian employees.
“Would you like some coffee?” Juice asked her as he poured a large cup of his own.
“Uh, not really. It makes me jittery at super-speed.” Sally had been prepared for a typical job interview, not Juice’s casual friendliness. She didn’t know how to play along with his game.
“Grab whatever you want, then come and sit down and we’ll finish.” He strolled over to a table and sat down.
She didn’t know what else to do so she took the first thing she saw—a bag of chips—and went over to him.
Juice had appropriated a large blueberry muffin and was spreading butter on it as Sally sat down. He smiled at her. “Did you always want to be a superhero?”
“Well, sure. I mean, my mom and grandma were, and I’m faster than both of them. What else could I do?”
“You could have a normal life. Go to college, get a job, meet the right guy. Ever think of doing that instead?”
“No, not really. I guess I always wanted to do this.”
“You got very high marks in combat training at the Academy. How was training alongside the Lucky Seven?”
“It was cool. I learned a lot from them.”
“Before the incident with Destroyer, had you ever been in a real combat situation before?”
Sally shook her head. She still had bad dreams about the giant blue battlesuit and her hatred of the man it contained.
“I’ve read the reports, of course, but I’d like to hear it in your own words. Tell me about what happened in Chicago.” Juice swallowed the last of his muffin and took a sip of his coffee.
“Destroyer took out Bullet with some kind of goopy stuff that wrapped him up. Then he used a portable electromagnetic pulse to ruin Spark’s equipment and Stratocaster’s guitar. He broke Carousel’s legs when we tried to take out his guns. He knocked out the others with a stun grenade.” She bowed her head. “I guess we didn’t give a very good accounting of ourselves.”
“What about you?” Juice finished his coffee and set the cup back on the table.
“He sprayed some kind of lubricant on the floor.” Sally felt her face grow hotter. “I hit it and slid across some broken glass. Tore up my costume some.”
“Were you hurt?”
“Not really. Just my pride.” Sally sighed. “I didn’t really accomplish much either. It’s hard discovering that you’re ineffective in a real battle after spending so many years in practice.”
Juice smiled. “Listen, Sally, Destroyer has taken down heroes far more experienced than you. You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. Quite the contrary, you should be proud you even fa
ced him at all.”
Sally couldn’t look at him. “Even though I didn’t do anything right?” She couldn’t believe herself. Worst. Interview. Ever.
“You survived your first real parahuman combat with nothing worse than a wounded pride. That is a lot better than how most heroes fare. They can teach you all the great theories and situational tactics they want at the Academy, but when you get right down to it, real life has very little to do with the classroom. Believe me, any fight you can run, walk, limp, or crawl away from is one in which you did well.”
Sally felt her admiration grow for him. As a lawyer, he’d learned to use language to great effect, and his words soothed her discomfort like aloe on a sunburn.
“How are the others in the Lucky Seven?”
“They’re okay. Mostly they were just stunned—minor bumps and bruises, that sort of thing. Carousel’s back on light duty. Her systems self-repair so long as she has access to power and raw materials.”
“Good. Now then . . .” He leaned back. “Sondra was absolutely right. We do need a speedster. Think you’re up to the task?”
Words jammed up Sally’s mouth so she could only nod in stunned silence. She’d known for years Just Cause was her destiny, but it surprised her to have the opportunity in front of her all the same.
Juice grinned back at her and pulled a phone from his pocket. He thumbed a switch on it. “Harris?” A voice responded in acknowledgement. “We’ve got a new intern. Can you please prepare her quarters and arrange for her paperwork and badge?”
“Yes, sir.”
Juice switched channels and spoke again. “Jason?”
“Yeah?” said a different voice from the phone.
“I’ve got a young lady here who is in need of a tour. I think you’re just the man to handle that job.”
“I’ll be right there, boss.”
“Give her about an hour to settle into her quarters.”
“Yes, sir. One hour, sir.”
Juice chuckled to himself, closed the phone and tucked it back into his jacket pocket. “Do you remember Jason Tibbets? He graduated from the Academy two years ago.”
“I’m not sure, uh, sir.” Despite throwing herself into her studies at the Academy, she couldn’t have forgotten the tall blonde boy who had been two years ahead of her even if she’d wanted to. All the girls in her dorm had spoken at length about his dreamy eyes and gentlemanly manners. She’d been enamored of him at first, although she found her studies to take far more of her time than she could spare for crushing on boys.
“Perhaps you’d know him as Mastiff,” said Juice. “And you can knock off the sir. Jason just does that to needle me. I’m not one for military formality and all that. Just make sure you follow orders when we’re out in the field and you’ll be fine calling me Juice, or James, or even Hey You! Just so long as I know it’s me.”
“I will, sir. I mean, Juice.”
The big man leaned his head back and laughed. “You’ll fit in just fine here, Mustang Sally. Welcome to Just Cause.”