Ch. 2: Day One

He had traveled hundreds of miles and yet Lawrence could still hear his mother’s shrieks in his ears as he pulled his pickup into one of the underground parking decks at the University Noir. His mother was furious that he had turned down Purdue for a second-rate state school, more furious that he wouldn’t tell her why.

He wished he knew. The letter from the League of Heroes had been such a shock--not even his parents were aware of his telekinesis. He wasn’t even aware of it until he hit puberty at fourteen and objects started flying around the room during his…alone time. Somehow he got through high school without anyone finding out. He was enough of a freak without super-powers.

His first instinct was to ignore the letter, but in the end he knew that this might just be the direction he was lacking. It wasn’t as though he had other plans. It was right there under his yearbook picture: Undecided.

Lawrence picked up the ski mask from the seat and pulled it on, hiding his medium-length brown hair and fine facial features. At least no one will be able to tell I look like a wimp, he thought with a glance in the rear view mirror. If he became a super hero he could wear a mask--no one would ever call him ‘baby-face’ again.

*****

Glory was still floored by her good luck, and ever so grateful for her best friend, Lola. Lola’s mother was loaded, a famous author (though Glory had never read any of her books). As a result, she paid for a two-bedroom apartment in downtown Acropolis for Lola to live in. Lola decided to give the second bedroom to Glory.

They moved in at the beginning of August and had settled in immediately, feeling the freedom of living on their own. It was a beautiful apartment taking up the second floor of a large Victorian house a few miles from campus. It even had a fireplace. Glory grew up in the house she had just left and it was wonderful to live in a place that hadn’t collected twenty years of clutter.

Setting the apartment to order had kept both her and Lola properly occupied, but it was the fifteenth, and it was the evening of her first meeting with the League of Heroes. She exited her room wearing a new pink Jackie O suit complete with hat. She had a half-mask in matching pink (with sparkles) and snapped it into place. “What do you think?” she asked Lola, who sat, not dressed, in front of the television with a bowl of popcorn.

“You look very nice,” Lola assured, pushing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses up on her face and stretching her long bare legs out in front of her. She could be so dowdy and plain in private Glory had noted, a far cry from her school appearance, which was always smooth and polished and even slightly sexy in a dark, bookish way. “Have you decided what to call yourself?”

“America the Beautiful,” Glory answered. Lola, to her credit, did not laugh. “I wanted something that would both convey my patriotism as well as my natural Glory,” she continued. “It’s not fair that I’m not allowed to use my real name.” This was the only part she was not thrilled with—she had not come onto her name the way most people had, and it made it all the more important to her.

“There is a reason for secret identities,” Lola told Glory. “You know you shouldn’t have told me about this.”

“I couldn’t help myself!” Glory exclaimed. “Lola, nothing good has ever happened to me, and you know it. Not all of us were blessed with your perfect life.” Lola rolled her eyes, and Glory couldn’t understand why she couldn’t be excited for her. She was Cinderella going to the ball. “And now, this is it. I’m going to be the super hero Mom and Dad always hoped I would be.”

Both of her parents had nominal talents, but had never done anything with them. Her mother’s heat vision couldn’t do more than boil a pan of water and her father had the poor luck of being born with super-digestion, which meant he could eat a bicycle and never got food poisoning--but he couldn’t fight crime with his stomach lining of steel. At the age of five Glory demonstrated her super-speed. Her parents were so happy they changed her name from Rachel to Glory, and named their other children appropriately as they came. Glory had some vague memories of being Rachel, but they weren’t important to her. Glory was her name, and she had every intention of living up to it.

“Good luck,” Lola told her. “I hope you do well, I really do.” She could tell the words were forced, but Glory was willing to accept them. Lola was trying, and she had been so good to her.

“Thanks Lola--you’re the best friend a girl could ever hope for.”

“Go, or you’ll be late.”

*****

Lola let out a sigh of relief when Glory left. She loved her friend, really she did, but it was exhausting living with someone so blond and perky. She hoped that once school started and Glory found out that being a super hero was actual work, she would calm down.

She was glad that Glory’s talents had been recognized. She was disappointed that they were now secret enemies, and the guilt of this knowledge led to asking Glory to live with her. It might have been a mistake, but she didn’t care. Despite their differences they had been best friends since the second grade. She couldn’t throw that away.

For a few weeks after Glory got her letter Lola watched the mailbox for one for herself, not because she wanted in but because the invite would have been nice--but nothing came. She couldn’t believe that the League didn’t want her--her talents were much more impressive than running really fast. But maybe they didn't know—she had taken more pains than most to hide what she really was.

As soon as she was sure Glory was gone from the building she got up and went to her room. She opened her hope chest and took out her lycra jump suit and mask, changing out of the boxers and beat up t-shirt she had been lounging in. She’d done her best to diet over the summer, truly she did, but the suit didn’t fit her any better, though after much consideration she decided that while her legs and ass were indeed plus-sized, they didn’t look too bad. If only she could say the same about her stomach and breasts (her mother was right--her bra spoiled the lines of the suit terribly).

She was off to do what any good super-villain would. Size up the competition.

*****

Lawrence found room 116 of Memorial Hall easily enough. It was a conference room with a large oval table taking up most of the space. He was one of the first ones there--the others being a blue girl in a blue dress with matching mask and a guy wearing a black suit and tie with dark glasses. The blue girl really was blue--she had African-American features but her hair was indigo, her skin a vivid cerulean. He couldn’t tell if it was her natural coloring or makeup.

Almost immediately Lawrence felt like an under-dressed country bumpkin, which he was. Most of the people filing into the room were either in some sort of costume or had come dressed to impress. No one else was wearing jeans, and everyone (aside from the guy in the glasses) had proper masks--not a ski mask.

Lawrence found himself sitting next to a stunning blond girl in a pink suit and pillbox hat. Her mask was decorated with glitter. “Hi,” she said, her voice all eagerness and bounce. “I’m Gl--America the Beautiful.”

“The Kinetic Professor,” he said, feeling slightly silly, but not so much. After all, anything was an improvement to Lawrence Lawrence.

“Can I call you KP? I really need to get used to this whole name thing,” she continued on before he could answer her question. “I don’t see why secret identities are so vital anymore--it’s not like the world doesn’t know super powers exist.”

“It’s tradition,” the guy sitting to America’s right said. He was dressed in some sort of gold body armor and had a masked helmet. “A proud and honorable one,” he added. “My father is Captain Honor. I am Captain Righteous.”

Lawrence tried not to laugh, but America found this fascinating. “Really? That’s exciting. Both of my parents have super-powers too.”

“Who are they?” Captain Righteous asked.

“They’re--um, nobody.” America flushed under her mask.

“It’s okay,” Lawrence told her, patting her hand. “My parents don’t even have any powers.” She beamed at him and the Captain, not finding them of any interest at all, turned his attention to the person on the other side of him.

At exactly six the door opened and two people stepped into the room. They needed no introduction--Lawrence recognized them immediately as Valkyrie and Stone. They were famous heroes and always on TV. Valkyrie looked like a Norse warrior queen in armor and white fur. She had the ability to turn any liquid into ice and her weapon of choice was a special sword that froze as it cut. Stone had skin the consistency of granite and could not be easily injured. His fists were like hammers, his chest a brick wall. Stone could not pass as a normal human being. His skin was a mottled grey color, and his abnormally tall height would stick out in any crowd.

“Welcome new recruits,” Valkyrie said, her voice warmer than one would expect. “I want to start by saying how happy we are to see you here, and we hope that over the course of the next four years you all will find a place within the League.”

“That being said,” Stone continued. “This is not something to be taken lightly. The purpose of this meeting is to help you to decide if you even want to become a super hero. Of course we hope that you do, but we understand that the League is not a place for everyone. It’s a dangerous lifestyle, and not always rewarding.” He did not smile like Valkyrie. His gravelly voice was grim and matter-of-fact. Lawrence glanced at America—she was still beaming.

His partner did her best to smile and step forward. “Let’s all start by introducing ourselves and sharing our abilities. Remember to use your super hero identity, not your real name.”

America’s hand shot up in the air. “Please Ms. Valkyrie, but why do we have to keep our identities secret?”

“Like Stone said--it’s dangerous. Nearly all of you will end up with a nemesis at some point in your lives. Do you really want your loved ones--your parents, grandparents, significant others, even your children--killed because of who you are?” America and several others looked sufficiently cowed. “That’s what I thought. Secrecy is key. I know some of you have already broken the rules and told people that you are being considered for the League. You have put them and yourselves in danger. Over the next four years you will learn many secrets. Secrets that people will want to torture and kill you over. Stone and I don’t even know who you really are. Only the head of the Acropolis branch of the League, Ms. X, knows the truth. Now,” she continued, as bright as ever, “Let’s start on the left side and work our way around.”

“I’m La Blue Girl,” the blue girl said. “I am a universal translator, which means I can speak and understand any language. I also have atypical pigment.” So the blue skin was real. The Chameleon had, like La Blue Girl, atypical pigment, but she was able to change her coloring at will and demonstrated by blending into the wall behind her. Captain Righteous bragged that he possessed both super-strength and super-speed, leaving poor America a little depressed when she admitted that she only had super-speed.

“We should race them,” The Chameleon said, and everyone laughed. Lawrence would put his money on America any day--Righteous was an ass.

Even Captain Righteous was impressed with Cloud—she could fly. In fact, it took some amount of energy to just stay in her chair, and through the evening Lawrence would notice that she was hovering instead of sitting. Second-to-last in the group was Torch. Lawrence immediately knew something was wrong. Torch was small and pale, his eyes huge and wide behind his mask. They were eyes that had seen terrible things. “I’m t-t-Torch,” he stuttered, seeming to shrink into himself. “I’ve been diagnosed as com-combustible.”

“What do you blow up?” Righteous asked and Torch jumped in his seat. In the corner of the room a fake potted plant burst into flames.

“E-everything.” Torch said, staring at the plant. “I d-don’t like to be surprised.”

Righteous scoffed at this, but said no more. The last member of the group disappeared into the hall and returned a moment later with a fire extinguisher and calmly put out the fire. He set the extinguisher down but remained standing. “I’m The Man in Black,” he said. He was the guy in the suit and glasses Lawrence noticed when he came in.

“And what do you do?” America asked.

“That’s classified.”

Valkyrie and Stone looked at each other. “Classified?” Stone asked.

“Ms. X will explain,” The Man in Black said. “You may all call me Black for short.”

There were eight of them all together, and among them Lawrence felt like he had one of the more useful talents, which made him feel pretty good about the situation. Super hero. It was an odd choice in majors (though technically the classes they would be taking did not give them college credit or affect their transcripts) but an intriguing one. As a super hero he could be someone, instead of blending in with all the other doctors or scientists or teachers…

America caught up with him as they left the building a few hours later. “So do you think you’ll join the program?” she asked him, and it registered that a beautiful blond had been talking to him all night. That never happened at home and, he was shamed to admit, gave the super hero thing points.

“For the first year I think,” he said. They were allowed to back out anytime during the first year. It was basically designed, Lawrence knew, to weed out the weak. He hoped he didn’t turn out to be one of them.

“I’m going all the way,” America said. “This has been my parents’ dream for me since I was a little girl.”

“But is it yours?”

She cocked her head at him, as if she didn’t understand the question. “Of course.”

*****

Lola watched the super-recruits exit the building, noting that Glory left with a skinny guy in a ski mask. She was a little put off by the guy in the gold armor, intrigued by the blue girl. Atypical pigment tended to crop up when there were several generations of talent on both sides of the family--Lola wondered what it was she did. As a whole the group didn’t seem especially threatening--after all, she had the power of mind control on her side.

She turned around and hurried home, needing to get back before Glory noticed she was out. She knew she didn’t need to sneak around--all she had to do was look Glory in the eye and tell her any lie, and it would be real. But she wasn’t like her mother. She didn’t want to control her best friend. It sort of defeated the purpose of having one. Once school started she would round up a couple of minions to do her bidding (whether they wanted to or not).

The sun was setting and downtown all of the shoppers were hurrying to their cars to beat the darkness. Lola walked past a woman leading a little boy by the hand and the woman snatched up the child and hurried in the opposite direction. Lola couldn’t help but smile. Even in her ill-fitting costume she was striking fear into the hearts of normal people.

Crime was rampant in Acropolis. Decent people did not go out after dark, because they were never sure what they would encounter. It was the perfect place for a beginning villain like Lola, but it was a good place for Glory too. There was plenty of crime to practice on.

Lola ducked into the parking deck where she had left her car and started the engine. She didn’t want to be connected to the BMW while she was in costume, especially near the university. She needed a new car as much as she needed minions. Driving, she passed Glory taking fast but even steps in the towering heels she was wearing, and Lola had to laugh. Super-speed was worthless in the wrong footwear. She pulled up behind the house and took the back stairs to the apartment. By the time Glory came in she was pulling her t-shirt back over her head and kicking the costume under the bed.

Glory barged into her bedroom. “I have so much to tell you!” she exclaimed, and went on to describe all of her classmates and teachers. Maybe rooming with a super hero wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

*****

A/N:
I can't wait to get into the guts of this story. Of my three characters, I'm not sure who I love more. I also love Captain Righteous. He's part Capt. Hammer, part Capt. Hero, with a dash of right-wing BS thrown in for good measure. If there is a print version of this La Blue Girl's name will be changed to La Fille Bleu because there already is a La Blue Girl, but I couldn't resist adding the reference. If you don't get it, its probably for the best. :)

If anyone has a project wonderful account you might consider sticking an ad up on that box on top of the screen, if only to fill up the white space. I doubt it'll ever cost more than 2 cents a day, if that. :) Right now the ads are linked to Thistledown too since I don't have enough content to get ads on this site yet.