Post by Midnight on May 28, 2017 18:16:39 GMT -5
The First Public Appearance of Virago II
By P.Michael Hodge
Vanguard City University, 1993
The mid-September sun beat down on the quad at Vanguard City University but the heat and humidity did little to dampen the enthusiasm of the crowd of nearly three thousand students that had turned out for the “Elect Jon Tweed” rally. With the emergency elections called to replace Mayor Rupert Burton who died suddenly from a long-standing heart condition during his 13th year in office, the youth of Vanguard City had rallied to Jon Tweed’s campaign as the first opportunity for “new blood” in over a decade. The excited milling of the crowd and the deafening roars as the students cheered Tweed’s speech made Morgan Lane anxious. Crowds and loud noises always made Morgan anxious. When she was a child, everyone thought that she was just a shy and nervous girl but six years ago it became clear that her reactions were more of a physical than psychological reaction to her surroundings.
Morgan had a secret that was known to few others; Morgan was the granddaughter of Guardsman and Virago, two of Vanguard City’s most famous heroes from World War II. One of the abilities she inherited from her Grandfather was an innate sensitivity to ambient Kinetic Energy in her immediate vicinity. Even before she was aware of the abilities she inherited from both of her grandparents, she always felt “anxious” in large crowds as she could literally “feel” everyone moving around her and loud noises added an extra background “pressure” that only she could feel. She tried to explain this many times as a child but, unaware of her abilities, child psychologists merely labeled her as mildly Agoraphobic and prescribed her anti-anxiety drugs.
Once she exhibited her other abilities in her teens, her grandmother recognized Morgan’s Agoraphobia symptoms as signs of the one Guardsman’s abilities and ordered Morgan’s parents to take Morgan off her medication and began training Morgan to control her awakening powers. “If you don’t learn to control them,” Grammy would say, “then they’ll end up controlling you.” Even after six years of training, however, Morgan couldn’t help but feel a little anxious in a crowd of this size. Of course that may have something to do with the fact that Grandmother’s training was usually slanted towards focusing on being aware of her surroundings, and not blocking them out.
So today, amongst a sea of people and with the cheers of support ringing in her ears, Morgan couldn’t help but feel a bit edgy. As Jon Tweed in his rolled-up shirtsleeves incited the crowds to new levels of excitement, the crowd became more raucous and Morgan became more edgy. She’d jumped more than once when someone almost bumped into her. Without her enhanced senses and superhuman reflexes, she would have been bumped or jostled a dozen times over but, thanks to her abilities, she found herself constantly edging away from people, first one way and then the other until she found herself skirting the edges of the crowd, yards from where she originally stood at the beginning of the rally before finally getting her frayed nerves under control. She was fighting so hard to keep her nerves under control that, at first, she almost missed out on the flash of intuition that she had practiced so hard to develop under grandmother’s tutelage in the ways of the Virago.
She’d tried explaining to others the quasi-mystical feeling that she got from her grandmother’s heritage, but nothing she’d said ever managed to say seemed to convey the way that her intuition made her feel. Heck, when her grandmother first tried to explain it to her, she hadn’t understood it either. After six years of training she still wasn’t quite sure she understood it, but there was no denying the tell-tales signs that her intuition was telling her that something right now, at this moment, wasn’t quite right.
Scanning the crowd, she tried to remember all the training that Grandmother had given her in facial expressions and body language trying to spot something, anything that looked out of place. When she noticed what was out of place, she realized that she needn’t have tried so hard as it was so obvious, it practically slapped her in the face. In the midst of the pressing mob, in the middle of an unseasonable September heat wave, there were six – no seven – men wearing jackets, all making their way towards the front of the crowd.
Nothing illegal about wearing jackets in the middle of a heat wave. Weird as heck, yes, but nothing illegal. She had to be sure before doing something. If she did something now, she’d be making her first public appearance and, if she screwed up, it wouldn’t bode well for the rest of her “career”. She had to be sure. Steeling her nerves against the rush of information about to assail her, she stopped trying to block out her Kinetic senses and, instead, opened herself up to the flood of sensory input and tried to focus on the men that had attracted her attention. It wasn’t easy taking something that works omnidirectional and focus on just a handful of targets in a crowd of thousands but, as was mentioned earlier, Grandmother’s training had been all about focus on Margo managed to single out a couple of the men and could pick up on the tell-tale impression of dinstinctive bulges under their armpits. Hard, metallic bulges.
Guns in shoulder holsters. No doubt about it. Margo had no clue what was going to happen or when it was going to start but she wanted to make sure that she was ready for whatever it was, whenever it started. She began looking around for some place she could change in a hurry. Most of the major building entrances and staircases were jammed with people watching Tweed as he orated from the temporary stage set up on the north side of the campus quad.
Realizing the futility of finding any place in the quad, Morgan began making her way to the edge of the building on the West side of the quad and then ducked around the side where she broke into a sprint to find a secluded spot to change. Coming upon a groundskeeper’s shed, she grabbed the padlock in one hand and, with a twist, broke it off and tossed it aside in one smooth move. Ducking inside, she opened up the false bottom in her Adidas bag and pulled out the parts of her costume that couldn’t be concealed under her street clothes. If only the art of quick-change had been amongst Grammy’s tutorials but this was something that wasn’t in her bag of tricks. You ever wonder why the TV shows do cut scenes or magical costume changes in a flash of light? Probably because there’s nothing glamorous about hopping on one foot while trying to pull on your boot or trying to untangle your cape when it gets caught up in the tines of a rake hanging on the wall.
Eventually, feeling that her look was “complete”, Margo stuffed her bag behind a stack of fertilizer sacks and, quickly checking to make sure no one was around, stepped out of the shed and looked to the sky. Centering upon herself, she felt the ripples of Kinetic force coruscating through her body and, directing them downward, felt herself lift off the ground and soar towards the heavens. One of the best gifts she’d inherited from her grandparents was the gift of flight and something she’d only managed to master in the last year. It would be so easy to lose herself in the freedom of flight but she had a mission and she wasn’t going to screw it up her first day on the job.
Remembering her grandmother’s training, she soared high over the crowd positioning herself above the crowd and hide herself in the glare of the mid-afternoon sun. The trick was to be low enough to still follow what was happening on the ground which still staying high enough so as not to cast an obvious shadow on the crowd below.
Hovering there, she waited until something overt happened that would justify her swooping down to save the day. It took everything she had to refrain from jumping in right away but, until they did something illegal, she couldn’t just drop in and start pummeling them. She had to wait and, as so many have said before, the waiting was the hardest part.
It seemed like an eternity, with her attention constantly shifting from one suspect to the next, but eventually she saw one of the men reach inside his coat and pull out what looked like a machine pistol of some sort. With a smirk starting in the corner of her mouth, she let gravity do its job and let herself drop. If she pulled this off, this move would give her the ultimate debut moment that would be replayed on the news a few times at least. Accelerating towards the ground, Morgan aimed herself not at the gunman but, instead, at the ground between the stage and the crowd. Hitting the gunman would disarm one man, if she did this right, she’d disarm several of them in one blow.
If she did it right.
Just before striking the ground, Morgan channelled all of her kinetic energy into her fist, fuelling what she hoped would come to be called her Kinetic Punch. Hitting the ground, she released all of her built-up energy into a force wave that was absorbed into the ground. The ground absorbed most of the energy but the excess force rippled out from the point of impact, knocking the first few rows of the crowd off their feet including six of the seven men she’d identified, causing four of them to drop their weapons in the confusion. Without missing a beat she stepped on the arm of one of the still-armed men, shattering both his radius and ulna instantaneously while catapulting herself across the crowd to take down the seventh gunman with one blow.
Righting herself she pivoted around to face the last of the still-armed gunman she was surprised that he had already managed to get himself into an upright firing position. This was no simple thug. This guy was a trained, professional hit man. Still, she almost smiled as he trained his machine pistol on her, knowing that his bullets would bounce harmlessly off her kinetic shield. Almost, until she realized she was standing in front of a crowd of panicked students; some of them her fellow classmates. As she saw him squeeze the trigger, she instinctively shifted mental gears and forced her innate Kinetic Shield outwards to protect now only herself, but also everyone else around and behind her. It only had a fraction of the strength of her personal shield but she hoped it would be enough.
As the bullets hit the shield, they lost the majority of their kinetic energy and fell harmlessly to the ground a few feet in from the edge of her shield. The gunman kept his finger on the trigger until his magazine was spent, all for naught as not a single bullet manage to hit his target. Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Morgan finally allowed herself the luxury of that smile as she calmly walked over the stunned gunman and with a back-handed slap knocked him flying, landing on the ground four feet away out cold.
Although bubbling over with excitement at her first major success, Morgan maintained her composure and made it a point to look serious as she reached into her belt and pulled out a handful of nylon Ty-Raps and calmly began securing the hands of the gunmen behind their backs. As she was just finishing up the last of them, she looked up to see the campus police making their way through the crowd toward her. As she looked up, however, she noticed a glint of light coming from the campus bell tower. Her heart went cold as all of her grandmother’s training brought her to one single conclusion: Sniper!
Reacting on instinct, she snatched up a nearby bench and, pulling the bolts right up out of the concrete, threw the bench hurtling unerringly towards the bell tower. As she let the bench loose, however, she heard the shot and knew that she was too late. Too late and too far away to shield Tweed, Morgan leaped towards the podium and reached out in a vain attempt to reach him before the bullet reached him. As she reached for him, she felt the kinetic energy flow through her fingers, out from her body and erupt towards Tweed. She had just enough time to ask herself “What the heck was that?!?” as she saw Tweed go flying backwards from the stage.
Rushing to Tweed’s side, Morgan was in a blind panic as all she could she was Tweed flat on his back with blood slowly seeping out from a bullet hole in the shoulder of his shirt.
“Oh my god! Mr. Tweed! Are you okay? I’m so, so sorry! Mr. Tweed?!? Are you okay? Say something!”
“Ow. “ Pause. “Yep, definitely ow!
Morgan almost broke into tears of relief as she realized that Tweed was okay. Remembering her First-Aid training, Morgan tore strips out of her own cape and used it to bandage Tweed’s shoulder. After all, what kind of a nursing student would she be if she let her very first patient bleed out in front of her. As she worked on his shoulder she kept reminding herself to breath.
“Shouldn’t I…ouch…be the one who should be worried about breathing?”
“Oh my gosh,” sputtered a blushing Morgan, “did I say that out loud? I’m sorry. I don’t know if you could tell, but I’m a little bit nervous.”
“No. Really? “ Tweed said, winking, “I couldn’t tell at all.”
Morgan couldn’t help but laugh at that as she gratefully saw the crew piling out of the ambulance that had pulled up beside them. Stepping aside, she let the professionals do their work and took several deep breaths to try and regain her composure.
As the television news crews approached her general direction she felt a sudden pang of fear in the pit of her stomach. Her hands were shaking and her knees felt like they were about to collapse under her. It was all too much for her first public appearance. She wasn’t ready to face the media. Not yet. And with that she summoned her strength under her and launched herself into the sky, soaring off into the sun.
The Following Night
Jonathan Tweed sat up in his hospital bed, yelling into his phone.
“I don’t care what it takes, I want you to find that girl.”
Not waiting for an answer, Tweed slams the receiver down on the bedside phone. Immediately regretting it as his cracked rib reminded him why he was in the hospital in the first place. Grimacing in pain, Tweed looked up as he heard a rapping at his hospital room window. Tweed looked on in surprise as hovering outside his window, three stories up, was the woman he was trying to find. It took him several seconds to gather his wits about him and motion for the woman to let herself in.
Although Saint Michael’s Hospital was old enough to still have windows that actually opened, they had long ago been painted shut. That didn’t seem deter the young woman as she opened the windows as easily as if they’d been installed yesterday, albeit accompanied by the sounds of tearing paint and cracking wood.
“Uh, sorry about the window. In fact I’m here to say sorry for a lot of things.”
“Oh, don’t worry about the window. They’ll probably just tack it on to my hospital bill,” Tweed said with his patented lopsided grin, “but I’m curious as to what else you have to be sorry about.”
“Well, for starters, I’m sorry that you got shot. But I’m also sorry that I blasted you – I’m still not quite sure how that happened – and that other people were hurt during my…uh…’Battle’ ”.
“Young lady, I have it from the very competent staff her at Saint Michaels that if you hadn’t moved me at the last minute, that shot would have gone through my chest instead of my shoulder and I probably wouldn’t be here to complain about a mild concussion and a few cracked ribs.”
Morgan winced at that.
“What I’m trying to say, is that a few bumps and bruises are far preferable to being shot to death. Trust me, being shot hurts bad enough. I can only imagine what being shot to death feels like.”
Morgan caught herself before she actually laughed at that comment.
“I’m sure those other people, with their bruises and sprains, would probably agree with that. You know, the ones who were in the sights of those armed killers just before you showed up.”
“But,” countered Morgan, “if I had done my job right, no one would have been injured.”
“Maybe. But, then again, maybe not. As far as I’m concerned, you did your best. And because of your best, lives were saved. Mine included. In my book, you’ve got nothing to apologize for.”
Morgan looked at him with tears glistening in her eyes and a faint blushing of red on her cheeks.
“Of course the University may hit you with a bill for a new bell tower.”
And, with that, Morgan actually burst out laughing.
After the laughter stopped, Tweed held out his hand out to Morgan. “I’d like to officially thank you for saving my life,” said Tweed, “but I don’t know what to call you.”
“Virago,” said Morgan, taking his hand.
Tweed’s eyebrow raised up an Inch.
“Really, you’re not worried about being sued for copyright infringement or some such thing?”
“Ummmm…well…technically, I suppose, it’s Virago II but I’ve been given…uh…special dispensation enabling me to use the name.”
“It’s a big name to live up to.”
“Yeah, it is. In more ways than you know.”
“I suppose that’s true, but I’d say you’re off to a pretty good start.”
Morgan smiled at this.
“Have you gone public yet, with the press.”
“No. I don’t know if you’re aware but public sentiment isn’t exactly with the superheroes these days. And that goes double for City Hall.”
“Don’t I know it,” said Tweed, “that’s one of the things I want to change. Tell you what, if you can wait a couple of weeks until after the election, I’ve got a proposition for you.”
Morgan looked at him skeptically, “A proposition?”
“If I get elected,” said Tweed, handing her a business card, “give me a call at this number. If I lose, out yourself to the press any way you like. Just wait and see, is all I ask.”
Two Weeks Later
The crowd went wild outside Tweed’s campaign office as the final polls came in, confirming his win. No one was sure why Tweed had set up a podium and live television feeds outside in the street instead of inside the building, but the important thing was that Tweed would soon be Mayor of Vanguard City.
Mayor-Elect Jonathan Tweed waved to the cheering crowds and the local television crews in the crisp autumn air of this October evening. As the crowd died down, Tweed began his acceptance speech.
“My supporters; my friends; my fellow citizens of Vanguard City. Thank you. Thank you for showing your faith in me and allowing me the chance to serve our fair city as it’s Mayor. I know it’s been a long day for everyone so I’ll try not to keep you here too long with a boring long-winded speech.
The faith you have shown in me is truly overwhelming. The responsibility of living up to this faith you have in me is intimidating to say the least.
If I was like every other politician, this is where I would tell you how great our city is, and what a great place it is to live.
But it’s not.”
Surprised rumblings start to spread throughout the crowd.
“It should come as no surprise to you that our city has problems. People don’t feel comfortable or safe walking the streets at night. Our police precincts may as well have revolving doors with the number of “suspected criminals” released on “technicalities”. Our infrastructure is collapsing around us as construction contracts are awarded to companies that use substandard materials. Again and again.
We all know this. The media used to report on this before they were all “encouraged” to play ball supporting City Hall. We all know that Vanguard City is a tarnished lady. But no one seems to be prepared to do anything about it.
Well I intend to do something about it.
I have faith in this city. Not faith in what it is, but faith in what it COULD BE.”
The rumblings in the crowd slowly turn to muttered words of agreement.
“When I was campaigning for election, I could have cited the corruption and the graft that plagued City Hall but then it would have looked like a smear campaign to get myself elected.
Well I AM elected now and I don’t have anything to prove about my opposition or the previous administration. I’ve already got the job. I’m just letting you all know now, just WHAT that job is.
I’m here to clean up City Hall.
I’m here to take back out city and put in the hands of you, my fellow citizens, who are the rightful owners of Vanguard City.
The elected officials need to be reminded that you don’t work for them, THEY work for YOU!”
The crowds once again start cheering Mayor-Elect Tweed.
“But it won’t be easy. We’ve got decades worth of corruption to weed out and the attitudes of an entire city to turn around.
So I’m going to need help.
I’m going to need the help and support of the few good men who still sit on our city council.
I’m going to need the help and support of local Unions, Emergency Services and Law Enforcement.
I’m going to need the help and support of our city’s Business Leaders.
I’m going to need the help and support of our local media.
And, most importantly, I’m going to need the help and support of you, the people of Vanguard City!”
The crowd starts cheering and applauding louder than ever. Tweed waits until the applause dies down.
“But even with your help, it’s till not going to be easy.
That’s why I’ve called in someone to be our Ace In The Hole.”
Tweed gives a hand gesture towards a lighting technician at the back of the crowd. A spotlight goes on illuminating the building behind the podium several stories up. Centered in the spotlight is a stunning young woman in a blue, gold and white costume slowing descending from above; her long white cape billowing out behind her.
Rumblings of awe and confusion pass throughout the crowd. As she carefully alights upon the stage, Tweed resumes his speech.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of Vanguard City, may I present to you Vanguard City’s newest hero and the woman who a few short weeks ago saved my life, the amazing Virago!”
The crowd applauds but, to Virago’s disappointment, it wasn’t the overwhelming reception she was hoping for.
“The name Virago may be known to some of you out there today. She was one of America’s greatest heroes during World War II and it was with great pride that I remind everyone that Virago chose to make Vanguard City her home after the war.
Virago exemplified the strength of body, mind and character that once made Vanguard City great.
This new Virago has been trained by the original Virago to be her replacement, her legacy to the people of Vanguard City.”
Morgan looks to Tweed with a momentary look of surprise and shock thinking, “I never told him any of that,” but quickly recovers her composure as she sees the reaction of the crowd to this news.
“As the original Virago represented all that is best about Vanguard City, this new Virago represents all that is best about what Vanguard City can be once more.”
The crowd unanimously cheers at this.
“Furthermore, this new Virago has promised to cooperate fully with the new administration of Vanguard City and, as a gesture of good faith, tomorrow I intend to order the Chief Of Police to cooperate fully with Virago in all areas of law enforcement and protecting the public welfare. With Virago on our side, we finally have a chance a winning the war on crime!
With Virago on our side, we can finally be proud to call Vanguard City our home!”
With that, Mayor-Elect Tweed raises both of his arms up and, grabbing Virago’s right hand in his left, he lifts her arm up in a show of solidarity and expectant victory.
And the crowd goes wild.
As Morgan stands there stunned by the sheer amount of public adulation, Tweed leans over to whisper in her ear, “Well kid, welcome to the big leagues.”
By P.Michael Hodge
Vanguard City University, 1993
The mid-September sun beat down on the quad at Vanguard City University but the heat and humidity did little to dampen the enthusiasm of the crowd of nearly three thousand students that had turned out for the “Elect Jon Tweed” rally. With the emergency elections called to replace Mayor Rupert Burton who died suddenly from a long-standing heart condition during his 13th year in office, the youth of Vanguard City had rallied to Jon Tweed’s campaign as the first opportunity for “new blood” in over a decade. The excited milling of the crowd and the deafening roars as the students cheered Tweed’s speech made Morgan Lane anxious. Crowds and loud noises always made Morgan anxious. When she was a child, everyone thought that she was just a shy and nervous girl but six years ago it became clear that her reactions were more of a physical than psychological reaction to her surroundings.
Morgan had a secret that was known to few others; Morgan was the granddaughter of Guardsman and Virago, two of Vanguard City’s most famous heroes from World War II. One of the abilities she inherited from her Grandfather was an innate sensitivity to ambient Kinetic Energy in her immediate vicinity. Even before she was aware of the abilities she inherited from both of her grandparents, she always felt “anxious” in large crowds as she could literally “feel” everyone moving around her and loud noises added an extra background “pressure” that only she could feel. She tried to explain this many times as a child but, unaware of her abilities, child psychologists merely labeled her as mildly Agoraphobic and prescribed her anti-anxiety drugs.
Once she exhibited her other abilities in her teens, her grandmother recognized Morgan’s Agoraphobia symptoms as signs of the one Guardsman’s abilities and ordered Morgan’s parents to take Morgan off her medication and began training Morgan to control her awakening powers. “If you don’t learn to control them,” Grammy would say, “then they’ll end up controlling you.” Even after six years of training, however, Morgan couldn’t help but feel a little anxious in a crowd of this size. Of course that may have something to do with the fact that Grandmother’s training was usually slanted towards focusing on being aware of her surroundings, and not blocking them out.
So today, amongst a sea of people and with the cheers of support ringing in her ears, Morgan couldn’t help but feel a bit edgy. As Jon Tweed in his rolled-up shirtsleeves incited the crowds to new levels of excitement, the crowd became more raucous and Morgan became more edgy. She’d jumped more than once when someone almost bumped into her. Without her enhanced senses and superhuman reflexes, she would have been bumped or jostled a dozen times over but, thanks to her abilities, she found herself constantly edging away from people, first one way and then the other until she found herself skirting the edges of the crowd, yards from where she originally stood at the beginning of the rally before finally getting her frayed nerves under control. She was fighting so hard to keep her nerves under control that, at first, she almost missed out on the flash of intuition that she had practiced so hard to develop under grandmother’s tutelage in the ways of the Virago.
She’d tried explaining to others the quasi-mystical feeling that she got from her grandmother’s heritage, but nothing she’d said ever managed to say seemed to convey the way that her intuition made her feel. Heck, when her grandmother first tried to explain it to her, she hadn’t understood it either. After six years of training she still wasn’t quite sure she understood it, but there was no denying the tell-tales signs that her intuition was telling her that something right now, at this moment, wasn’t quite right.
Scanning the crowd, she tried to remember all the training that Grandmother had given her in facial expressions and body language trying to spot something, anything that looked out of place. When she noticed what was out of place, she realized that she needn’t have tried so hard as it was so obvious, it practically slapped her in the face. In the midst of the pressing mob, in the middle of an unseasonable September heat wave, there were six – no seven – men wearing jackets, all making their way towards the front of the crowd.
Nothing illegal about wearing jackets in the middle of a heat wave. Weird as heck, yes, but nothing illegal. She had to be sure before doing something. If she did something now, she’d be making her first public appearance and, if she screwed up, it wouldn’t bode well for the rest of her “career”. She had to be sure. Steeling her nerves against the rush of information about to assail her, she stopped trying to block out her Kinetic senses and, instead, opened herself up to the flood of sensory input and tried to focus on the men that had attracted her attention. It wasn’t easy taking something that works omnidirectional and focus on just a handful of targets in a crowd of thousands but, as was mentioned earlier, Grandmother’s training had been all about focus on Margo managed to single out a couple of the men and could pick up on the tell-tale impression of dinstinctive bulges under their armpits. Hard, metallic bulges.
Guns in shoulder holsters. No doubt about it. Margo had no clue what was going to happen or when it was going to start but she wanted to make sure that she was ready for whatever it was, whenever it started. She began looking around for some place she could change in a hurry. Most of the major building entrances and staircases were jammed with people watching Tweed as he orated from the temporary stage set up on the north side of the campus quad.
Realizing the futility of finding any place in the quad, Morgan began making her way to the edge of the building on the West side of the quad and then ducked around the side where she broke into a sprint to find a secluded spot to change. Coming upon a groundskeeper’s shed, she grabbed the padlock in one hand and, with a twist, broke it off and tossed it aside in one smooth move. Ducking inside, she opened up the false bottom in her Adidas bag and pulled out the parts of her costume that couldn’t be concealed under her street clothes. If only the art of quick-change had been amongst Grammy’s tutorials but this was something that wasn’t in her bag of tricks. You ever wonder why the TV shows do cut scenes or magical costume changes in a flash of light? Probably because there’s nothing glamorous about hopping on one foot while trying to pull on your boot or trying to untangle your cape when it gets caught up in the tines of a rake hanging on the wall.
Eventually, feeling that her look was “complete”, Margo stuffed her bag behind a stack of fertilizer sacks and, quickly checking to make sure no one was around, stepped out of the shed and looked to the sky. Centering upon herself, she felt the ripples of Kinetic force coruscating through her body and, directing them downward, felt herself lift off the ground and soar towards the heavens. One of the best gifts she’d inherited from her grandparents was the gift of flight and something she’d only managed to master in the last year. It would be so easy to lose herself in the freedom of flight but she had a mission and she wasn’t going to screw it up her first day on the job.
Remembering her grandmother’s training, she soared high over the crowd positioning herself above the crowd and hide herself in the glare of the mid-afternoon sun. The trick was to be low enough to still follow what was happening on the ground which still staying high enough so as not to cast an obvious shadow on the crowd below.
Hovering there, she waited until something overt happened that would justify her swooping down to save the day. It took everything she had to refrain from jumping in right away but, until they did something illegal, she couldn’t just drop in and start pummeling them. She had to wait and, as so many have said before, the waiting was the hardest part.
It seemed like an eternity, with her attention constantly shifting from one suspect to the next, but eventually she saw one of the men reach inside his coat and pull out what looked like a machine pistol of some sort. With a smirk starting in the corner of her mouth, she let gravity do its job and let herself drop. If she pulled this off, this move would give her the ultimate debut moment that would be replayed on the news a few times at least. Accelerating towards the ground, Morgan aimed herself not at the gunman but, instead, at the ground between the stage and the crowd. Hitting the gunman would disarm one man, if she did this right, she’d disarm several of them in one blow.
If she did it right.
Just before striking the ground, Morgan channelled all of her kinetic energy into her fist, fuelling what she hoped would come to be called her Kinetic Punch. Hitting the ground, she released all of her built-up energy into a force wave that was absorbed into the ground. The ground absorbed most of the energy but the excess force rippled out from the point of impact, knocking the first few rows of the crowd off their feet including six of the seven men she’d identified, causing four of them to drop their weapons in the confusion. Without missing a beat she stepped on the arm of one of the still-armed men, shattering both his radius and ulna instantaneously while catapulting herself across the crowd to take down the seventh gunman with one blow.
Righting herself she pivoted around to face the last of the still-armed gunman she was surprised that he had already managed to get himself into an upright firing position. This was no simple thug. This guy was a trained, professional hit man. Still, she almost smiled as he trained his machine pistol on her, knowing that his bullets would bounce harmlessly off her kinetic shield. Almost, until she realized she was standing in front of a crowd of panicked students; some of them her fellow classmates. As she saw him squeeze the trigger, she instinctively shifted mental gears and forced her innate Kinetic Shield outwards to protect now only herself, but also everyone else around and behind her. It only had a fraction of the strength of her personal shield but she hoped it would be enough.
As the bullets hit the shield, they lost the majority of their kinetic energy and fell harmlessly to the ground a few feet in from the edge of her shield. The gunman kept his finger on the trigger until his magazine was spent, all for naught as not a single bullet manage to hit his target. Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Morgan finally allowed herself the luxury of that smile as she calmly walked over the stunned gunman and with a back-handed slap knocked him flying, landing on the ground four feet away out cold.
Although bubbling over with excitement at her first major success, Morgan maintained her composure and made it a point to look serious as she reached into her belt and pulled out a handful of nylon Ty-Raps and calmly began securing the hands of the gunmen behind their backs. As she was just finishing up the last of them, she looked up to see the campus police making their way through the crowd toward her. As she looked up, however, she noticed a glint of light coming from the campus bell tower. Her heart went cold as all of her grandmother’s training brought her to one single conclusion: Sniper!
Reacting on instinct, she snatched up a nearby bench and, pulling the bolts right up out of the concrete, threw the bench hurtling unerringly towards the bell tower. As she let the bench loose, however, she heard the shot and knew that she was too late. Too late and too far away to shield Tweed, Morgan leaped towards the podium and reached out in a vain attempt to reach him before the bullet reached him. As she reached for him, she felt the kinetic energy flow through her fingers, out from her body and erupt towards Tweed. She had just enough time to ask herself “What the heck was that?!?” as she saw Tweed go flying backwards from the stage.
Rushing to Tweed’s side, Morgan was in a blind panic as all she could she was Tweed flat on his back with blood slowly seeping out from a bullet hole in the shoulder of his shirt.
“Oh my god! Mr. Tweed! Are you okay? I’m so, so sorry! Mr. Tweed?!? Are you okay? Say something!”
“Ow. “ Pause. “Yep, definitely ow!
Morgan almost broke into tears of relief as she realized that Tweed was okay. Remembering her First-Aid training, Morgan tore strips out of her own cape and used it to bandage Tweed’s shoulder. After all, what kind of a nursing student would she be if she let her very first patient bleed out in front of her. As she worked on his shoulder she kept reminding herself to breath.
“Shouldn’t I…ouch…be the one who should be worried about breathing?”
“Oh my gosh,” sputtered a blushing Morgan, “did I say that out loud? I’m sorry. I don’t know if you could tell, but I’m a little bit nervous.”
“No. Really? “ Tweed said, winking, “I couldn’t tell at all.”
Morgan couldn’t help but laugh at that as she gratefully saw the crew piling out of the ambulance that had pulled up beside them. Stepping aside, she let the professionals do their work and took several deep breaths to try and regain her composure.
As the television news crews approached her general direction she felt a sudden pang of fear in the pit of her stomach. Her hands were shaking and her knees felt like they were about to collapse under her. It was all too much for her first public appearance. She wasn’t ready to face the media. Not yet. And with that she summoned her strength under her and launched herself into the sky, soaring off into the sun.
The Following Night
Jonathan Tweed sat up in his hospital bed, yelling into his phone.
“I don’t care what it takes, I want you to find that girl.”
Not waiting for an answer, Tweed slams the receiver down on the bedside phone. Immediately regretting it as his cracked rib reminded him why he was in the hospital in the first place. Grimacing in pain, Tweed looked up as he heard a rapping at his hospital room window. Tweed looked on in surprise as hovering outside his window, three stories up, was the woman he was trying to find. It took him several seconds to gather his wits about him and motion for the woman to let herself in.
Although Saint Michael’s Hospital was old enough to still have windows that actually opened, they had long ago been painted shut. That didn’t seem deter the young woman as she opened the windows as easily as if they’d been installed yesterday, albeit accompanied by the sounds of tearing paint and cracking wood.
“Uh, sorry about the window. In fact I’m here to say sorry for a lot of things.”
“Oh, don’t worry about the window. They’ll probably just tack it on to my hospital bill,” Tweed said with his patented lopsided grin, “but I’m curious as to what else you have to be sorry about.”
“Well, for starters, I’m sorry that you got shot. But I’m also sorry that I blasted you – I’m still not quite sure how that happened – and that other people were hurt during my…uh…’Battle’ ”.
“Young lady, I have it from the very competent staff her at Saint Michaels that if you hadn’t moved me at the last minute, that shot would have gone through my chest instead of my shoulder and I probably wouldn’t be here to complain about a mild concussion and a few cracked ribs.”
Morgan winced at that.
“What I’m trying to say, is that a few bumps and bruises are far preferable to being shot to death. Trust me, being shot hurts bad enough. I can only imagine what being shot to death feels like.”
Morgan caught herself before she actually laughed at that comment.
“I’m sure those other people, with their bruises and sprains, would probably agree with that. You know, the ones who were in the sights of those armed killers just before you showed up.”
“But,” countered Morgan, “if I had done my job right, no one would have been injured.”
“Maybe. But, then again, maybe not. As far as I’m concerned, you did your best. And because of your best, lives were saved. Mine included. In my book, you’ve got nothing to apologize for.”
Morgan looked at him with tears glistening in her eyes and a faint blushing of red on her cheeks.
“Of course the University may hit you with a bill for a new bell tower.”
And, with that, Morgan actually burst out laughing.
After the laughter stopped, Tweed held out his hand out to Morgan. “I’d like to officially thank you for saving my life,” said Tweed, “but I don’t know what to call you.”
“Virago,” said Morgan, taking his hand.
Tweed’s eyebrow raised up an Inch.
“Really, you’re not worried about being sued for copyright infringement or some such thing?”
“Ummmm…well…technically, I suppose, it’s Virago II but I’ve been given…uh…special dispensation enabling me to use the name.”
“It’s a big name to live up to.”
“Yeah, it is. In more ways than you know.”
“I suppose that’s true, but I’d say you’re off to a pretty good start.”
Morgan smiled at this.
“Have you gone public yet, with the press.”
“No. I don’t know if you’re aware but public sentiment isn’t exactly with the superheroes these days. And that goes double for City Hall.”
“Don’t I know it,” said Tweed, “that’s one of the things I want to change. Tell you what, if you can wait a couple of weeks until after the election, I’ve got a proposition for you.”
Morgan looked at him skeptically, “A proposition?”
“If I get elected,” said Tweed, handing her a business card, “give me a call at this number. If I lose, out yourself to the press any way you like. Just wait and see, is all I ask.”
Two Weeks Later
The crowd went wild outside Tweed’s campaign office as the final polls came in, confirming his win. No one was sure why Tweed had set up a podium and live television feeds outside in the street instead of inside the building, but the important thing was that Tweed would soon be Mayor of Vanguard City.
Mayor-Elect Jonathan Tweed waved to the cheering crowds and the local television crews in the crisp autumn air of this October evening. As the crowd died down, Tweed began his acceptance speech.
“My supporters; my friends; my fellow citizens of Vanguard City. Thank you. Thank you for showing your faith in me and allowing me the chance to serve our fair city as it’s Mayor. I know it’s been a long day for everyone so I’ll try not to keep you here too long with a boring long-winded speech.
The faith you have shown in me is truly overwhelming. The responsibility of living up to this faith you have in me is intimidating to say the least.
If I was like every other politician, this is where I would tell you how great our city is, and what a great place it is to live.
But it’s not.”
Surprised rumblings start to spread throughout the crowd.
“It should come as no surprise to you that our city has problems. People don’t feel comfortable or safe walking the streets at night. Our police precincts may as well have revolving doors with the number of “suspected criminals” released on “technicalities”. Our infrastructure is collapsing around us as construction contracts are awarded to companies that use substandard materials. Again and again.
We all know this. The media used to report on this before they were all “encouraged” to play ball supporting City Hall. We all know that Vanguard City is a tarnished lady. But no one seems to be prepared to do anything about it.
Well I intend to do something about it.
I have faith in this city. Not faith in what it is, but faith in what it COULD BE.”
The rumblings in the crowd slowly turn to muttered words of agreement.
“When I was campaigning for election, I could have cited the corruption and the graft that plagued City Hall but then it would have looked like a smear campaign to get myself elected.
Well I AM elected now and I don’t have anything to prove about my opposition or the previous administration. I’ve already got the job. I’m just letting you all know now, just WHAT that job is.
I’m here to clean up City Hall.
I’m here to take back out city and put in the hands of you, my fellow citizens, who are the rightful owners of Vanguard City.
The elected officials need to be reminded that you don’t work for them, THEY work for YOU!”
The crowds once again start cheering Mayor-Elect Tweed.
“But it won’t be easy. We’ve got decades worth of corruption to weed out and the attitudes of an entire city to turn around.
So I’m going to need help.
I’m going to need the help and support of the few good men who still sit on our city council.
I’m going to need the help and support of local Unions, Emergency Services and Law Enforcement.
I’m going to need the help and support of our city’s Business Leaders.
I’m going to need the help and support of our local media.
And, most importantly, I’m going to need the help and support of you, the people of Vanguard City!”
The crowd starts cheering and applauding louder than ever. Tweed waits until the applause dies down.
“But even with your help, it’s till not going to be easy.
That’s why I’ve called in someone to be our Ace In The Hole.”
Tweed gives a hand gesture towards a lighting technician at the back of the crowd. A spotlight goes on illuminating the building behind the podium several stories up. Centered in the spotlight is a stunning young woman in a blue, gold and white costume slowing descending from above; her long white cape billowing out behind her.
Rumblings of awe and confusion pass throughout the crowd. As she carefully alights upon the stage, Tweed resumes his speech.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of Vanguard City, may I present to you Vanguard City’s newest hero and the woman who a few short weeks ago saved my life, the amazing Virago!”
The crowd applauds but, to Virago’s disappointment, it wasn’t the overwhelming reception she was hoping for.
“The name Virago may be known to some of you out there today. She was one of America’s greatest heroes during World War II and it was with great pride that I remind everyone that Virago chose to make Vanguard City her home after the war.
Virago exemplified the strength of body, mind and character that once made Vanguard City great.
This new Virago has been trained by the original Virago to be her replacement, her legacy to the people of Vanguard City.”
Morgan looks to Tweed with a momentary look of surprise and shock thinking, “I never told him any of that,” but quickly recovers her composure as she sees the reaction of the crowd to this news.
“As the original Virago represented all that is best about Vanguard City, this new Virago represents all that is best about what Vanguard City can be once more.”
The crowd unanimously cheers at this.
“Furthermore, this new Virago has promised to cooperate fully with the new administration of Vanguard City and, as a gesture of good faith, tomorrow I intend to order the Chief Of Police to cooperate fully with Virago in all areas of law enforcement and protecting the public welfare. With Virago on our side, we finally have a chance a winning the war on crime!
With Virago on our side, we can finally be proud to call Vanguard City our home!”
With that, Mayor-Elect Tweed raises both of his arms up and, grabbing Virago’s right hand in his left, he lifts her arm up in a show of solidarity and expectant victory.
And the crowd goes wild.
As Morgan stands there stunned by the sheer amount of public adulation, Tweed leans over to whisper in her ear, “Well kid, welcome to the big leagues.”