New Olympus Saga (Book 1): Armageddon Girl (7 page)

The Freedom Legion

Atlantic Headquarters, March 13, 2013

Olivia O’Brien traded the burnished metal
armor of Artemis for business-casual attire. Her office had a changing room
with a closet whose space was filled by a combination of colorful costumes and austere
business suits. That in a nutshell defined life in the Legion: a combination of
circus performing, being a firefighter or soldier, and working as an executive
at a large corporation. She came out of the changing room and smiled towards
her assistant. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Cecilia Ramirez was supposed to be a
normal human, but her attention to detail, skill in maneuvering through
bureaucratic mazes, and uncanny ability to gather and remember information from
a myriad of sources bordered on the superhuman. She had been Olivia’s executive
assistant for eight years, and she was invaluable as an aide – and as a friend.
The petite Bolivian-American woman glanced at her E-tablet before starting.
“The meeting with BC Multimedia to discuss next year’s new licensing projects
has been confirmed for 2 to 3 p.m. They mostly want to talk about a new lineup
for the
Legion Unlimited
MMO.”

Once upon a time, Buck Comics had been a
small New York company best known for its
Action Tales
comic book series.
In 1938 that comic book started to chronicle (and embellish rather radically)
Ultimate’s adventures, and the rest was history. Now BC Multimedia owned
multiple movie studios, publishing houses and software companies, and it
lavishly marketed everything related to the Freedom Legion. The relationship
had been mutually beneficial for the most part; licensing fees funded a
significant percentage of the Legion’s budget. Most of the licensing process
was left to the many civilian managers working for the organization, but BC’s
people always wanted some face time with actual Legion members.

Olivia checked the appointment on her
tablet’s calendar. “An hour sounds good, and don’t let me go over it, please.”
BC’s people tended to ramble on if left unchecked. Better to give them a tight
deadline. She enjoyed talking to them for the most part – even after becoming a
large corporation, BC’s management was still dominated by actual fans of the
Legion – but she only had a limited amount of time to give them. She reminded
herself to change into her costume for that meeting, just to make them happy.

“Of course. Your presence has been
requested a 3:30 pm at the Gymnasium. General sparring with the advanced
students. .”

“Good, I could use the workout.” Even
better, she could keep the costume for the sparring session.

The sparring session would be both an
outlet to release some pent-up energy and an opportunity to watch some
potential Legionnaires. There were several promising new students she wanted to
see in action before considering their candidacy to the Legion. In addition to
serving as the Legion’s headquarters on the Western Hemisphere, the island also
hosted the Freedom Institute. The Institute was the premiere Neolympian
training school, where young parahumans from all around the world could learn
to control and refine their abilities, as well as study the ethics and
responsibilities involved in being one of those select few. Most students
blessedly took their lessons to heart and became useful and productive members
of society. A large percentage of them ended up becoming full-time or reserve
members of the Legion.

Thinking about the Institute reminded
Olivia of the press conference that morning and the accusations Fowler had
leveled towards the legion. ‘Sensitivity training’ indeed! She didn’t know what
kind of game that little bastard Fowler was playing. The comment about Linda
leaving John had been particularly malicious. Yes, there had been a brief
separation, but Linda Lamar had never been afraid of her husband. If anything
Ultimate – John – had been the one in fear, always worried about keeping his
wife safe. The accusation had been deliberately provocative. It was almost as
if Fowler had wanted Ultimate to attack him.

What worried Olivia was that during
Fowler’s diatribe she had actually thought John was going to react violently.
She had known her friend long enough to read his body language and to see the
minute tension in his shoulders and face that indicated he was about to do
something. If she hadn’t intervened and shut Fowler up, she didn’t know what
might have happened. A man who had spent the better part of a century learning
to control his powers and his temper couldn’t be so easily provoked, could he? When
you added that morning’s incident to all the strangeness of the previous month,
it was clear that something was very wrong.

Olivia realized Cecilia was waiting for
her to stop woolgathering – her assistant was quite adept at sensing what was
going through Olivia’s mind. “Sorry,” Olivia said. “I’m a bit worried about the
incident with Ultimate this morning.”

“Yes, the whole thing smells like a skunk
to me,” Cecilia said; she’d clearly been giving the matter some thought as
well. “I took the liberty of doing some research on the skunk in question, as a
matter of fact. Fowler’s blog was just picked by GNN, in a fairly lucrative
deal for Fowler.”

“That explains what the man was doing on
the island. It might even explain the slant of the questions,” Olivia said
ruefully. The Global News Network and its founder Thaddeus Twist were not fans
of Neolympians in general and the Freedom Legion in particular. Twist’s media
empire never missed an opportunity to point out the real, potential and
imaginary problems the world’s population of parahumans represented. Twist was
an otherwise principled and progressive person, but his obsession with the evil
Neos did or could do was a constant annoyance, not least because the man’s
paranoia was not wholly unfounded. “Fowler has become part of the vast anti-Neo
conspiracy, then,” Olivia said.

Cecilia’s eyes twinkled with amusement.
‘Vast Neo Conspiracy’ had become a common catchphrase among certain circles.
The fact that some Neos did engage in all manner of Byzantine plots did not
help, of course. “Aren’t conspiracies supposed to be secret?” her assistant
replied. “Twist doesn’t really try to hide his misgivings about parahumanity.”

“No, he doesn’t. The sad thing is, I
agree with many of his concerns,” Olivia admitted. “That’s one of the reasons
we established the Freedom Institute, to help people with powers become
responsible citizens.”

“You don’t have to convince me, Olivia,”
Cecilia said with a smile before continuing in a more serious tone. “It was
fortunate that Fowler picked on Ultimate instead of one of our more… volatile
members. I shudder to think how Berserker would have reacted if provoked in
that manner.”

“Yes,” Olivia said blandly. Cecilia
didn’t know Ultimate very well. Olivia, on the other hand, knew how angry her
friend and mentor had been. It worried her a great deal.

She had known John Clarke for her entire
adult life. The first time she saw him she had been plain Olivia O’Brien, high
school senior from Baltimore, in the long-gone year 1963. Her parents had taken
her to attend the March on Washington that celebrated the passage of the Civil
Rights Act earlier that year. As the child of a mixed couple, Olivia knew the
racial issues dividing the country all too well. Even on the train to D.C. she
had seen the ugly stares her parents attracted everywhere they went. That day
she hadn’t been particularly upset by the sidelong looks, however. For one, she
and her parents were not alone; she had never seen so many people of color
together on a train before. More importantly, she felt like part of history in
the making.

Reverend King had given his immortal
speech that day. Janus also had been there, in his colorful Navy blue and gold costume,
his half-mask doing little to conceal his race. His own speech had been cool
and dispassionate, and Olivia had forgotten most of what he said, but she and
the crowd around her had cheered him wildly nonetheless. Everybody knew Janus
had quietly convinced several Southern leaders to change some long-standing
policies in their localities. Rumor was some of the more radical white
supremacists had disappeared without a trace at around the same time. Olivia
didn’t think Janus would stoop to that kind of direct action, but she wasn’t
sure. She cheered him enthusiastically nonetheless. Janus had been the first
black superhero, the man who had won the war in the Pacific and who had forced
the likes of MacArthur and Halsey to dance to his tune by the sheer force of
his personality as much as by his raw power. His speech lacked Reverend King’s
stirring power, but his presence at the march had meant a great deal.

A hush came over the crowd as Janus
finished his speech and people noticed Ultimate flying over the gathering. The
silver and red costume was unmistakable. Ultimate’s deeds in the European front
had been glorified far more than Janus’ actions in the Pacific; there were rumors
that the two Legionnaires were rivals. Would the Invincible Man try to suppress
or intimidate the marcher’s gathering? The hero had eschewed politics since the
Freedom Legion had become an international organization, but his presence over
the gathered crowd seemed ominous.

Ultimate had landed next to Reverend King
and shaken his hand, and embraced Janus in a brotherly display of affection. He
had remained with King and Janus the rest of the day, saying nothing,
respectfully standing behind the speakers of the day, but making clear where
his sympathies lay. Plenty of people had bemoaned Ultimate’s appearance, her
parents’ included. They had felt it had been a patronizing gesture, and Olivia
could see their point. The teenager she had been only saw the world’s greatest
hero standing up for what was right, however.

Olivia had never been so proud to be an
American.

Things had changed quickly after that
day, and not for the better. The Chinese Empire had started a war the next year,
only weeks after President Kennedy finalized a major troop withdrawal from the
Republic of China with the claim that it was ‘time to glean the dividends of
peace.‘ As the US and the UN rushed troops back into Asia, that dumb blonde
movie star had gone public with the story of her affair with the President.
There were accusations that both the war and the scandal were payback for
Kennedy’s support for the Civil Rights Act and its equally controversial
counterpart, the Parahuman Registration Act. Southerners and Neolympians had
allegedly joined forces to destroy the President.

Amidst the controversy, on a cloudy day
in May of 1964, Olivia had been seized by convulsions on her way home from
school and had collapsed unconscious. When she awoke she realized she had grown
three inches in height and become a superhuman being. Her parents’ support for
the Parahuman Registration Act had wavered when it was time for them to send
their darling daughter off to a government facility to have her powers tested
and recorded, but in the end Olivia herself had decided to do the right thing.

It was there that she had met Ultimate
for the second time, or the first if you discounted that glimpse of him
floating down from the sky. He had been one of her teachers, a kind and gentle
man who had shown her how to control her powers, and more importantly how to
accept who and what she was. Over the decades, as their roles changed from
teacher and pupil to friends and equals, they had become close. They had stood
side by side through battles and wars, weddings and funerals. He had cried on
her shoulder the day his wife died. For a while, Olivia had feared grief would
do to him what no weapon or parahuman power had, but John had recovered and
moved on. Or so she had thought.

Olivia looked at Cecilia. She knew she
could trust her friend implicitly, and she needed to tell somebody. She wished
she could tell Larry, but confiding in her husband was no longer a possibility.
“I first started noticing something wrong with John about a year ago,” she finally
said. “It started out with little things. Absent-mindedness. Aloofness and
coldness. Memory lapses.” She could not bring herself to mention the time a few
weeks ago when he had called her by his dead wife’s name. It had been
heart-breaking, embarrassing and disturbing at the same time. “In the last few
weeks they’ve gotten a lot worse.”

“You are saying that Ultimate may be
having some sort of breakdown.” Cecilia said, looking concerned.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Olivia
admitted.

‘Neo Psychosis’ was a pop psychology
term, a catch-all phrase that covered a multitude of problems. The fact
remained that Neolympians had a higher incidence of psychological problems than
normal humans. Some were the obvious result of being granted superhuman
abilities, of course. The mere realization one had become an immortal being
with godlike powers could unhinge many minds. Other problems were more subtle
and included a variety of personality disorders: an addiction to dangerous
thrills, sociopathic and narcissistic tendencies, or even megalomania. For the
better part of a century, Ultimate’s presence had acted as a counterexample,
showing the world a compassionate and steady person who retained those
qualities despite being one of the most powerful beings on the planet. If he
fell, what hope was there for the rest of parahumanity?

A slight tremor shook the building just
as she was about to tell Cecilia more about her worries. In the distance,
Olivia heard the unmistakable sound of explosions. What was going on?