Just Cause: Revised & Expanded Edition (11 page)

“So what happened?”

“The Steel Soldier finally arrived.”

Sally recalled the Steel Soldier had been a highly advanced android. The robotic being had successfully won a legal battle in the Supreme Court to be recognized as a sentient being. “The Soldier succeeded where the others failed?”

“In a manner of speaking. He used his cannon to punch through Destroyer’s fuselage, holing the fuel tank and leaving the suit unable to move. But before the Soldier could tear open the armor, Destroyer caught him in a burst from his bolt guns and chewed the Soldier’s torso to shreds.”

“That must have been scary.”

“It was, without question. Destroyer’s spilled fuel caught fire from the brief fight with the Soldier. Only Imp was small enough to get inside the armor quickly enough. That was when she discovered her brother, nearly overcome by the heat and smoke, was driving the suit. She shrank him down and pulled him to safety.”

“And then you all had him arrested?”

Stone bowed his head. “No, not immediately. He claimed he could repair the damage he’d done to the Soldier if we could get his sentence reduced. May God have mercy on our souls… we accepted his deal.”

“You
what?
” Sally couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “You made a deal with him? With Destroyer?”

Stone sat back down at his desk, heavy and despondent. “The Soldier was dead, or at least nonfunctional. He was our companion, our teammate. Harlan had already proven he was a genius of engineering. Javelin watched him closely while he repaired the damage to the Soldier and reactivated him.”

“You let him work on one of the most highly advanced machines ever built.” Sally’s tone grew accusatory. “Did any of you even think for a second that he might learn something?”

Stone shook his head. “Not until it was far too late. I believe our actions gave him the tools and knowledge to build his next battlesuit… the one he used when he attacked us at Tornado’s funeral.”

“God,” Sally struggled to find the right words to say. “It must have felt like… I don’t know what it must be like,” she finished, unable to complete the thought.

“It’s a terrible feeling,” said Stone. “I try not to feel guilty about it. His actions are not due to mine. I didn’t kill all my friends and teammates in ’85. He did. But some days I feel like I might as well have been the one hurling that plane down upon them.” A tear rolled down his angular nose to drip from the end.

Sally reached across the desk and touched Stone’s rocky hand with her own. “Don’t blame yourself, Mr. Stone. He’s devious and scary smart. He would have figured out the tech sooner or later anyway.”

Stone wiped his eyes with his thick, granite fingers. “It was because of him that I chose this career after my retirement. I swore on the graves of those he killed I would take it upon myself to teach other heroes, to train them to fight evil more effectively than we ever did in our day.”

“Well, you’ve certainly done that. Look at what you have done here with the Academy. I’d never be where I am today without you.”

A ghost of Stone’s prior jovial demeanor danced across his face. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you, Sally. You were one of the best students ever to pass through this school. You’re a real credit to your mother, who was always a very good friend during and after our time together in Just Cause.”

“Oh stop.” Sally felt herself blush. “So what happened after Harlan Washington was arrested?”

Stone glanced over Sally’s head at the clock on the wall. “I’m afraid we’ll have to take this conversation back up later, Sally. I have a class to teach.”

Sally’s face fell. “Really? Okay. What class?”

“Parahuman History,” said Stone. “I’d be honored if you’d sit in. After all, you’re very much a part of that history with your lineage.”

“I guess I could do that,” said Sally. “How come you’re teaching it instead of Griego?”

Stone smiled. “I’m just subbing. Mr. Griego is out sick.”

Sally glanced around, just in case anybody else might be listening in, and then said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Good. I think he’s a lousy teacher.”

Stone dropped his own voice low. “So do I.”

Chapter Nine

I declare to you, brothers, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed—in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: ‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’ ‘Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?’

-
1 Corinthians 15: 50-55
 

January, 2004

Denver, Colorado

Sally spent an enjoyable hour in a class of seniors at the Hero Academy with kids who were only a year behind her, but seemed frighteningly young and inexperienced. John Stone set aside the syllabus for the afternoon and instead led the students through a question-and-answer session with Sally, who answered everything she could. As the kids asked their questions, they seemed respectful and subdued, as if they had a real live hero in their midst instead of someone who graduated only six months ago.

“I’m nothing special, really,” Sally said as kids fawned over her. “I got the same education you all are now. I just happened to get an internship with Just Cause.”

“But you already got to deploy. You stopped the Antimatter Woman from blowing up the planet!” said a sharp-faced boy.

“They’ve already named her? I don’t think it was quite as exciting as that,” said Sally. She wondered who of the current class would make it onto Just Cause next. Certainly the organization would have to start taking more interns as the pool of available talent grew. Maybe more than one of these kids would be on the team with her next year.

Mr. Stone ended the class and reminded the students they had assignments due at the end of the week and that Mr. Griego would be back tomorrow. Collective groans issued from the kids as they filed out of the room to head back to the dorm.

“Thank you so much, Sally,” said Stone. “The class really enjoyed having you stop in. I hope you will again.”

“Of course, Mr. Stone. I mean John.”

“Now then, you wish to continue our discussion about Destroyer?”

“Yes, please.” Sally fumbled for her notebook and pen.

“Perhaps you wouldn’t mind if someone else joined us? I normally have dinner with Mrs. Echevarria on Wednesdays.”

Estella Echevarria was the Principal of the Academy. Like Stone, she had also been a long-time member of Just Cause. She’d certainly had experience with Destroyer, but Sally wasn’t sure how much she’d want to talk about him. Destroyer had killed her sister in his sneak attack in ’85. “If you think it’s okay,” Sally hedged. She didn’t want to definitively say yes or no.

“It’s fine. She’ll be happy to have you join us. If you don’t have dinner plans already, that is.”

“No, I don’t have anything.”

Stone retrieved his briefcase and hat—a fedora he’d worn for forty years—and led Sally across the campus to his bungalow. “They said I didn’t have to live on campus,” he said, “but I’d rather be closer to the students in case something comes up. Besides, there aren’t many places elsewhere I can safely go with my weight. I’ll crack a normal sidewalk just walking down it, and leave footprints in asphalt.”

“I never thought about that.”

“Quite all right. After forty years, I’m used to it. Now then…” Stone opened the door to his house and turned on the lights to ward off the early winter darkness. “Make yourself at home. I have plenty of furniture available for my softer guests.”

The bungalow wasn’t much larger than a studio apartment, but Stone had made it comfortable despite the overbuilt furnishings. Sally looked around at the pictures on the walls from his days as an active Just Cause member. One picture in particular caught her eye. It was undated, but there inside the frame stood her parents and Lionheart. They must have been in their early twenties, thought Sally. They all looked so young and vibrant. Her mother was laughing between the two men while her father mugged at the camera from one side and Lionheart snarled like he was about to roar in mock fury from the other.

Stone clattered around in the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind spaghetti and meatballs,” he called. “It’s what I planned to make anyway. Estella should be here in a few minutes. Can I get you something to drink?”

“No thank you.” Sally moved on to examine other pictures of the past. “I have to say, this is a little weird, Mr. Stone. I mean John. Nobody ever thinks about principals or vice-principals having a life outside of school.”

Stone broke into guffaws that shook his little house to the rooftop. He came out of the kitchen with a large stoneware tumbler. “Now then, where were we in the story of Destroyer?”

“He’d just been arrested after his rampage.” Sally checked her notes.

The doorbell rang. “That’ll be Estella. Come in!”

The principal of the Hero Academy strode into the bungalow. Formerly known as Sunstorm, she had led Just Cause for more than a decade. Her auburn hair, now shot with gray, was pulled back into a severe bun rather than the wildly flowing mass of her youth. The best skin care regimen could not hide all the wrinkles, but age hadn’t dulled her fiery temperament in the least, something misbehaving students were quick to learn. Her mind still burned as quick as dry kindling, much to the chagrin of those who would try to outsmart her.

“Hello, John,” she said in her soft contralto. She paused as she recognized Sally. “Miss Thompson. This is a surprise.”

“Hi, Ms. Echevarria.” Sally gave her best winning smile.

“Sally is here on official Just Cause business,” said Stone. “We’ve been discussing Destroyer. Perhaps you’d share some of your own insights with her.”

Color rose in Echevarria’s cheeks. “Insights? I’ll give you insights. The bastard murdered my friends and my sister, and he deserves to die for his crimes.”

Sally gasped at the woman’s sudden vitriol. The pain of her loss was evident in her voice, even eighteen years after the event.

“Easy, Estella,” said Stone. “It’s hard to discuss, I know. I lost friends as well that day.”

“I’m sorry, Salena,” said Echevarria. “It’s still like a fresh wound to me.”

Stone clattered some pans in the kitchen as he began to prepare the dinner. “We had just covered Washington’s first appearance in ’77. Despite all the evidence against him, the Judge wouldn’t permit him to be tried as an adult for his crimes. He was remanded to the custody of the state and sent to a juvenile detention facility, where he stayed for six months.”

“Only six months?” Sally gaped in astonishment. “For everything he did?”

Stone smiled sadly. “He cut his own sentence short. He escaped on his fourteenth birthday.”

Echevarria had brought a bottle of wine to share with Stone, and poured herself a glass. “We don’t have any specific information about Washington’s activities over the next seven years. He had no money, no home, and no surviving family. He was a zero, completely off the grid.” She sipped at the wine. “But I think I can fill in some of the blanks.”

“Well, he had to build the battlesuit he used in ’85,” said Sally. “And those materials had to come from somewhere.”

“As well as the tools to build it, a facility in which to work, and financing,” said Echevarria. “And he was just fourteen years old. I suspect he used his intellect to work his way into organized crime. One thing about those groups is they respect intelligence, and Washington always was a pretty large cut above most people in sheer brainpower. It wouldn’t have taken much for him to impress someone powerful, and then it would just be a matter of playing the system.”

“You think it was really that simple?” The smell of Stone’s dinner preparations made Sally’s stomach rumble in anticipation.

Echevarria shrugged. “This is all conjecture on my part. I couldn’t have done it, but you have to remember Washington is dangerously brilliant. He sees people as tools, nothing more. A means to an end. The crime families in the late ‘70s would have been the best resources he could find.”

“It makes sense to me,” said Stone from the kitchen. “Sally, do you want salad?”

“Yes, please,” she said. “Dinner smells really good.”

“Thank you.”

“What’s your interest in Destroyer?” Echevarria asked Sally. “Does this have something to do with you running across him in Chicago? Yes, I follow the news.” She held up a hand to forestall the inevitable question of how she knew about it.

Sally shrugged. “Kind of, but it also really is part of an official Just Cause investigation. As I was researching, I discovered most of his file was lost on 9/11, so I’m trying to recreate what I can of it.”

Echevarria raised an eyebrow. Sally was certain the woman didn’t buy her answer. “Very noble and professional of you.”

“Look, Ms. Echevarria, you lost your sister to him. I lost a father who I’ve only ever known through other people’s stories. I just want to know more about the man who took him away from me, that’s all.”

Echevarria sighed and drained her wine glass. “’85 was a very difficult year for us as a team,” she began. “Tornado, who was calling himself Stormcloud by then, had contracted full-blown AIDS and it ravaged him until there was almost nothing left of him by the end. He was always such a kind man, and a great hero. We never expected to lose one of our own that way. We’re supposed to be privileged to die with our boots on in combat, not wasting away to some incurable disease.” She made a small sphere of flame jump between her fingers. “How do we fight something like that?”

“We can’t.” Stone brought salads in from the kitchen. “He was a good friend. He loved baseball and rock music.”