switched to a live report from the observation deck
of the World Trade Center. The fact that the live report also showed several
people in colorful costumes flying through the air in the best comic book
tradition was only icing on the crazy cake.
Explanation Four: She was in a different
world, where superheroes were real and Keanu Reeves wasn’t, where John Travolta
was named Joseph, and people wore their cell phones on their wrists like people
used to do with watches. Where Faceless Vigilantes could be literally faceless.
Among God only knew how many other different things.
Face-Off and Father Aleksander watched
the news intently until they went to a commercial break. For Pan Am Airlines.
Which Christine only recognized from a short-lived TV show about an airline
that no longer existed. In her world. No longer existed in her world. She had
the sickening realization she was going to be using those words a lot. Her
world. She wasn’t in her world anymore.
“Guys?” They turned to her. “My brain is
about to explode. I don’t normally do this before noon. Or at all. But could I
have something alcoholic in a glass? Or an IV bag, I’m not picky. Pretty
please?”
Chapter Five
The Freedom Legion
Atlantic Headquarters, March 13, 2013
Kenneth Slaughter rushed towards the
sound of the guns.
Off to his left, both the Freedom Tower
and the Freedom Building were collapsing under multiple missile impacts. Up
ahead, dozens of aerial platforms moved in a precise death dance, firing
missiles from external launchers and maneuvering off to let following waves
move into position for their own strikes. The swarm of projectiles reached out
towards the still-standing buildings or targeted some of the running or flying
individuals trying to defend the island. The attack was all beautifully
coordinated, human ingenuity used for efficient death dealing.
The paradox had never been lost on
Kenneth. He had become intimately aware of it in 1917, when he had been a
terrified young man forcing himself to climb up a trench wall and charge
towards massed machine guns and artillery, exquisitely crafted tools designed
for the single purpose of ending life.
Even worse, he had learned he himself was
quite capable of murder.
One night Kenneth had been in a trench
raid that ended disastrously, flares dispelling the darkness, machine guns
mowing down the rest of his squad. He had found himself alone and surrounded by
enemies. He tried to surrender but an angry and terrified soldier, no older
than he was, had stabbed him with a bayonet. The sudden agony and the outraged
sense of betrayal had overwhelmed Kenneth. The world had dissolved into a red
haze. When he regained his senses, he was the only living thing in the trench,
surrounded by the bloody remains of twenty-three men he had slaughtered in his
frenzied state. The incident had terrified him. He had resolved to forever bury
his inner beast under a rational, emotionless façade. More importantly, he had
devoted his life to seeking some form of redemption.
Over the ensuing decades, Kenneth had
applied his superhuman talents toward finding a way to bring true peace to
humanity. He had finally accepted that killing was an inherent part of the
human condition, impossible to remove without destroying humanity itself. Since
then, he had done his best to minimize the evil that men would invariably do.
The attack had found him in his
underground lab, where he had been performing a routine review of the sixteen
projects he was currently overseeing. Like all Genius-Type Neolympians, Kenneth
was given to flashes of intuition that allowed him to envision amazing
breakthroughs in a variety of scientific fields. His projects ran the gamut from
high-energy physics to biotechnology. The development process was the main
obstacle for Neolympians, who all tended to suffer from the scientific
equivalent of short attention spans. Kenneth had long learned to pass on his
ideas to teams of normal but
of the World Trade Center. The fact that the live report also showed several
people in colorful costumes flying through the air in the best comic book
tradition was only icing on the crazy cake.
Explanation Four: She was in a different
world, where superheroes were real and Keanu Reeves wasn’t, where John Travolta
was named Joseph, and people wore their cell phones on their wrists like people
used to do with watches. Where Faceless Vigilantes could be literally faceless.
Among God only knew how many other different things.
Face-Off and Father Aleksander watched
the news intently until they went to a commercial break. For Pan Am Airlines.
Which Christine only recognized from a short-lived TV show about an airline
that no longer existed. In her world. No longer existed in her world. She had
the sickening realization she was going to be using those words a lot. Her
world. She wasn’t in her world anymore.
“Guys?” They turned to her. “My brain is
about to explode. I don’t normally do this before noon. Or at all. But could I
have something alcoholic in a glass? Or an IV bag, I’m not picky. Pretty
please?”
Chapter Five
The Freedom Legion
Atlantic Headquarters, March 13, 2013
Kenneth Slaughter rushed towards the
sound of the guns.
Off to his left, both the Freedom Tower
and the Freedom Building were collapsing under multiple missile impacts. Up
ahead, dozens of aerial platforms moved in a precise death dance, firing
missiles from external launchers and maneuvering off to let following waves
move into position for their own strikes. The swarm of projectiles reached out
towards the still-standing buildings or targeted some of the running or flying
individuals trying to defend the island. The attack was all beautifully
coordinated, human ingenuity used for efficient death dealing.
The paradox had never been lost on
Kenneth. He had become intimately aware of it in 1917, when he had been a
terrified young man forcing himself to climb up a trench wall and charge
towards massed machine guns and artillery, exquisitely crafted tools designed
for the single purpose of ending life.
Even worse, he had learned he himself was
quite capable of murder.
One night Kenneth had been in a trench
raid that ended disastrously, flares dispelling the darkness, machine guns
mowing down the rest of his squad. He had found himself alone and surrounded by
enemies. He tried to surrender but an angry and terrified soldier, no older
than he was, had stabbed him with a bayonet. The sudden agony and the outraged
sense of betrayal had overwhelmed Kenneth. The world had dissolved into a red
haze. When he regained his senses, he was the only living thing in the trench,
surrounded by the bloody remains of twenty-three men he had slaughtered in his
frenzied state. The incident had terrified him. He had resolved to forever bury
his inner beast under a rational, emotionless façade. More importantly, he had
devoted his life to seeking some form of redemption.
Over the ensuing decades, Kenneth had
applied his superhuman talents toward finding a way to bring true peace to
humanity. He had finally accepted that killing was an inherent part of the
human condition, impossible to remove without destroying humanity itself. Since
then, he had done his best to minimize the evil that men would invariably do.
The attack had found him in his
underground lab, where he had been performing a routine review of the sixteen
projects he was currently overseeing. Like all Genius-Type Neolympians, Kenneth
was given to flashes of intuition that allowed him to envision amazing
breakthroughs in a variety of scientific fields. His projects ran the gamut from
high-energy physics to biotechnology. The development process was the main
obstacle for Neolympians, who all tended to suffer from the scientific
equivalent of short attention spans. Kenneth had long learned to pass on his
ideas to teams of normal but
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