Legion World Forums LEGION OUTPOST Bits o' Legionnaire Business 21st Century Legion (vol. 1): Remastered

As Val Looked up, he saw the others running towards him and he was soon surrounded.

"Who are you?"
"Great job! I've never seen anyone fight so well!"
"Irma, can you get anything from this guy's mind when he's out cold?"
"Thank you son."

That last came from RJ Brande who had just been able to reach the others in the group.

"That's twice in just a few days that a youngster has saved my life at this airport. I don't know who is trying to kill me, but they sure are persistent! Now, who might you be so I can thank you properly?"

"Sir, my name is Va..Val, Val Armor. Sensei said I should find you and give you this letter."

"Sensei! My dear friend sent you?" RJ gasped "By damn, it's been years since I heard from him!"

"Here you are sir," Val said as he extended the envelope. RJ took it, opened it, and pulled out the letter. He recognized Sensei's beautiful handwriting immediately and he quickly read through the missive. Folding it up, he slipped it into his coat pocket and looked back at Val.

"Sensei writes that he has trained you in all manner of combat and requested that I let you become a part of my Legion. Having seen your skill and courage with my own eyes, I would have made the offer myself. But Sensei asks for something more. He asks that I treat you as if you were my own child. That is a great request he has made of me. One that few would dare. Yet Sensei knows that were he to ask me for my life I would gladly give it to him. So he knows what my answer to this request would be."

"Welcome Val Armor, welcome to the Legion," RJ said as he clasped Val's shoulder. "And welcome, my son. Welcome to my family and your new home!"

"Sir, we should get you inside and out of the line of fire, now!" Leviathan offered. "No need to give anyone another shot at you."

"Yes, I sup-..." Brande started to say but Val interupted him.

"But it wasn't Mr. Brande the gunman was aiming at!"

"It wasn't?" RJ said at the same moment as Leviathan and Cos.

"No, he was aiming at her," Val said as he indicated someone else in their group. Everyone slowly turned to see that he was pointing at...

...Lorna!

McCauley looked down the table. None of the men sitting there had his respect. They were there only because it wasn't possible for him to run everything himself. He cursed his limits, that he had to endure these shams of board meetings.

He asked for an update on the Workforce project. Specifically, the public team.

The first of his subordinates spoke up. "Well, we have, between experimentation and *ahem* recruitment, 32 metahumans at present in our possession, none of which have yet been programmed. There are 8 surviving experiments, held in the cells in the basement of the complex. Of these only two - the fire girl and the boy who "reflects" attacks - still appear completely human. Another two are humanoid, and four are misshapen to various degrees. The recruits are kept in stasis tubes in the main laboratory, and presently number 24. All your instructions so far have been followed faithfully sir.

He sighed. It was going to be a long meeting.

"What thoughts have been given to publicity?"

His PR man spoke up. "We were thinking that the tall, blonde female - the one with the Superman-style powers - would make for an ideal front person. You know - have her open buildings, be the one at the front of the publicity shots, pose for a magazine, like FHM or Maxim..."

The lawyer interjected. "Pose for a shoot in a magazine like that? The girl's a minor!"

The tediousness of it. One of his underlings actually had the germ of a good idea for once and another attempted to shoot it down...

"I am to understand that this girl appears to be somewhat older than she is."
"Yes sir" (the PR man passed him a picture) - "I doubt anyone who saw her would realise her actual age unless they knew it already. It appears that her powers caused her to physically mature more quickly."
"And who does know?"
"From the information we have, she ran away from an orphanage, and hasn't had contact outside there in at least five years."
"Right, well arrange to have the fire girl adopted by the same orphanage. And have some people there to pick off any survivors and retrieve her. As for this 'Supergirl'..."

The lawyer at the table spoke up - "Ummm... sir... all the names that start with "Super" are trademarked. We can't use them."

"Have the PR people draw up a shortlist of names then, then empty your desk for interrupting me. As I was saying, as for this 'Supergirl', this magazine shot idea is expected to attract considerable attention to the Workforce project, correct? Put out some feelers to be ready to close a deal as soon as the Workforce team goes public. And play up the 'Supergirl' angle even if we can't call her that - it should attract more attention that way. Arrange new documentation for her with a slightly different name and an age of 19, and adjust her memory of her age with the rest of the programming if need be."

"Sir?" - yet another underling interrupted, holding his hand up like a frightened schoolboy.
"Yes?"
"Y-Y-you do realise that the more changes are made, the less likely they all are to hold up? A-and we're already making some fairly significant..."
"I was given to understand that provided the basic personality was left intact, then the mind could accept such things as a change of loyalties."
"I-it's not that sir, i-it's the way you've included a requirement for a subservience to y-you in all the programming. In most of the cases, t-that's s-s-signific-cant enough to significantly increase the risk of r-reject..."
"From point-1 of one percent to one percent, correct? That's low enough. If I may continue? Are there any other potential female candidates that would get significant publicity from a similar stunt? Either in support or separately?"
"Perhaps the winged girl? The controversy alone would keep the Workforce in the headlines for weeks."
"Possibly, but I'm given to understand that she doesn't quite fit the classical mould. And that she isn't even a Christian, which would lessen the impact enough that I'd rather hold her in reserve for a Phase 2, rather than put her in the initial lineup. If we find a girl to conform to the template more in the meantime, we'll go with her instead. Any others?"
"Most are fairly young unfortunately - the metagene appears to be a recent enough development that there are very few active holders above the age of 18. The vast majority of them look good & have potential, but they're too obviously young to add them to the list with this 'Supergirl.'"
"At present then, who do we have? I am given to understand that we have an inventory of 32 at present, and I asked for a shortlist of twelve for a team of 6-8."

He was handed a dossier containing twelve sheets of double-sided A4 paper, each with pictures, proposed costumes, power information, a brief biography and short personality analyses of each of the subjects. He read them leisurely, ignoring the men around the table. He'd already discounted the winged girl for now and confirmed the girl with the Superman-type powers. To them he added the boy with the more limited version of the same powers, the electro-girl and magneto boy (having the siblings of a pair of Legionnaires on the team could give a helpful psychological advantage if the teams ever came to blows), the insect (the team needed a mascot, and a teleporter could prove handy - it's political views would be no object once it's voicebox had been removed), the boy who could reverse attacks, the female telepath, and the magic-user. He directed that they should be taken for programming as soon as the meeting was over. Before adjourning, he made one final stipulation:

"And, once the Workforce is public, I want a concerted effort to recruit the Legionnaire who can split into three. By persuasion if possible, given her high profile, by force if you must."

He envied Lorna's ability to be in more than one place at one time. And he would have it.

At Metropolis University university students Randal Burroughs and John Drake-Nagale were putting the finishing touches on their experiment to recieve their degrees in Quantum Physics. Together they built a machine that was supposed to cheaply create antimatter and with the help of their supervisor Professor Vartan where able complete the machine and tonight were able to go test it.

"...and if this machine works there. Energy shortages will be a thing of the past. Is the machine ready?" Randal asked

John was performing the last minute checks, checking the shielding on the antimatter tank, "As ready as it'll ever be. Shall we start now?"

"The sooner we have some results, the better John."

"All righty then," John said flipping the switch that started the conversion that reverses the subatomic charge of the hyrodgen atoms turning them into anti-hydrogen, "All is going well matter/antimatter conversion at 1%... 5%... 10%"

"Yes! It's working, it's actually working."

"Matter/antimatter conversion at 15%"

The machine seemed to work perfectly until conversion was hovering aroun 18%. John saw this on the readouts.

"Randal, we have a problem."

"What is it?"

"We're losing matter/antimatter containment." John reported.

"Do something. Try the back up measures!" Randal told him.

"I am they seem to be failing, I told you we should've ran a simulation first."

Then the screen started to read "DANGER" as the power for containment failed. What what backups they had were going to going to fail in one minute maybe less. Thankfully for experiments as dangerous as this the walls were reinforced with interon.

"Secturity Systems Error..." the computer chirped

"We have to get out of here!" John told his partner getting up from his seat and running for the exits with Randal following him. As soon as they reached the door the blast door slammed down and the two where trapped in the lab.

"Backup containment fields failing. Matter/antimatter reaction immenient."

In approximately 15 seconds the machine lost containment and it exploded seemingly taking the lives of Randal Burroughs and John Drake-Nagale.

Ella awoke to find herself strapped down tightly to a metal table in the middle of a brightly-lit room, the brightest of these lights shining directly down on her. What had happened? The last thing she remembered was finishing her packing, and going out for one last look around the farm. Her parents had tried to discourage her, but she was firm - twins were meant to stick together, and she had to join up with Garth. And then... she remembered it felt like something had hit her, then darkness. Until now.

She tried to blast her way out of the straps, but couldn't generate any voltage. Worried, she twisted her head and saw two old guys in white coats talking to each other, while looking at a woman who looked a few years older than her and a boy a year or two younger, both of whom were standing like statues. Straining, she tried to hear what they were saying.

"...not meant to be zombies surely."
"No, the process is very traumatic to the mind, as you can imagine. It enters a sort of state of shock for a time, while assimilating the new data. One of the big mistakes in the early days was to try it on unconscious subjects - the idea being that it would lessen the trauma. Complete failures, every one - the subject needs to be conscious, or at best it won't stick, but more often than not their minds shut down completely, leaving them effictively brain-dead. No, they need to be kept conscious during the alterations, and they stay in this sort of trance-state while they recover, then their minds absorb the changes and they reemerge as their old selves, barring the intentional changes obviously. It's quite subtle you see..."

The guy who was talking took a step forward, to just out of earshot. This was bad, very bad. She looked around and saw dark-suited guards at every exit, with about four "spare" guards all looking directly at her. There was also a group of eight plastic armchairs, four of which held an unconscious person, and one a giant insect. She couldn't see any way out of this, and from what she'd overheard, this was a brainwashing clinic or something. She needed to find a way out of this, somehow. She knew the chances were near-zero, but still a «Garth, I know you can't hear me, but I hope you're on your way to help your sister» somehow ran through her head.

It wasn't to be though. One of the old doctors turned round and finally noticed she was awake. Ignoring her pleas for mercy, they took a new set of electrodes from a plastic bag, plugged them into a machine behind her head she couldn't see, then smeared electrolyte jelly on her temples before placing the electrodes on top of this surface and taping them in place. One last "no" escaped her lips before the large, overly-dramatic switch was pulled.

She screamed.

-----------

Tikhik awoke to find himself in what looked like a large operating theatre. A red haired girl was lying, strapped to the table, with electrodes attached to the side of her head, screaming in agony. Beyond, he saw a blond woman and a dark haired boy, standing, staring straight ahead, oddly passive. Several others were arranged beside him, unconscious.

So this was it - they'd started lobotomising them into perfect little soldiers. Well, he wasn't going to be part of it - he'd rather die first. Dampening field or no, he had to go - now.

He strained for several minutes - long enough that it would have been noticed that he was awake, but for Ella's protesting screams at the painful violation of her mind. He strained & he strained, but refused to give up hope - otherwise he was lost, doomed to suffer her fate. Then, a small green disk began to glow beneath him. This caused him to finally be noticed, but it was too late. Tikhik wasn't sure he could hold it long enough to make it through, but better death than that he thought, and twisted his short black body into the glowing gate, the tip of his tail barely making it through before it spluttered out. The guards looked at each other, oblivious to the diminishing sobs of the girl on the table. They were in big trouble.

----------

Ella Raines wasn't thinking of very much at all now. As she was led to join Laurel and Paul, the unconscious Jose was laid where she had been, about to recieve the same soul-shredding treatment as soon as he was stimulated into wakefulness.

Qwyzlyt was bored. The little imp was tired of everything the fifth dimension had to offer. He was also more than a little upset that he was so much smaller than all the rest of the kids his age there, measuring in at 2 inches in height! Not that any of them were much taller. Kids his age (roughly 16 in human terms) were normally only about three to four inches tall. When, oh when was his growth spurt going to finally kick in?

Because he was so small, all the guys made fun of him and said he would never amount to anything cool! Well he would show them! But how?

************

At dinner that night his parents were talking about mom's wayward brother, Mxyzptkl. Uncle Mxyz was always in the news because of his adventures in the human dimension. Of course, he was able to do that because he could use magic!

God, how Qwyzlyt wished he had been born with Uncle Mxyz's magic talent, but no! All he had gotten was his dad's talent...to a lesser degree of course...to be able to "jump" into other objects and animate or "drive" them as he liked to call it.

It was fun, no question, but compared to some of the magical skills some of his friends had developed he was starting to fear that he WOULD never amount to anything cool!

The only thing he was really good at was building things that worked. But what good was that when you could walk into just about any Magician's store and have him create whatever you wanted on the spot!

***************

"That's it!" he thought so loud that he woke himself up at 3:00 in the morning. He knew exactly what he was going to do! "What fun!" he thought as he snuggled back into his bed to dream sweet dreams about the adventures he was going to have. Let them make fun of him then!

****************

The little metal ship popped out of the dimesional vortex right above the city of Metropolis. It look something like a minature, comic book version of the Beatle's "Yellow Submarine" only it was a bright, shiny silver color. On it's side was written in tiny bright red letters "QUISLET" (which, of course, stood for "Quintuple Universal Interfacing Sentinent Long-Range Environmental Transporter")

Qwyzlyt had arrived!

What fun!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jazmin was not happy. "But I want to join the Legion!" She had said for the eighth time. And for the eighth time, that big jerk had rebuffed her.

"Calm down, girlie, and listen carefully. This is the Legion of Super Heroes. "Super" means that you have to have SUPER powers. The ability to slow someone down is NOT super enough for the Legion! Heck, bouncing boob and the triple girl over there are barely powerful enough as it is, but Mr. Brande won't let me thin the ranks. Still, at least I can prevent any other weaklings fro joining up."

"And I've told you, my power is way stronger than my brother's was! I can do things he never could do!"

"Yeah, right. Look, why don't you go on home and work on your powers first? Then when you can accomplish something better, you can-"

Leviathan stopped. Had he heard something cracking? Could it be the floor they were standing on? "What was tha- aaah!"

Gene yelled as the floor beneath him collapsed and he fell through into the storage area below. It was a pretty long fall, and he quickly grew- enough to minimize the chances of a serious injury but not enough to wreck the place. Suddenly, though, he felt his descent slow down. And then he saw an angry Jazmin hover in front of him, her hands glowing.

"Not strong enough, huh? How do you like this?"

Gene watched as the glow disappeared from her hands, and his fall speeded up once more. Then, at the last possible second, the glow reappeared and he slowed down yet again, falling gently to the ground like a feather. He scrambled up and turned to face her.

"So... I guess that was your doing?"

"Yeah, big man. As you can see, I can slow time down, like how I stopped your fall, speed it up, like how I aged the floor to make it collapse, and almost stop it entirely. Now what were you saying about my not being strong enough?"

"All right, all right... Repair that hole you made and I'll let you join."

He watched as Jazmin's expression quickly turned into one of worry. "Um... Can't we just get Zoe to do it?"

Gene sighed. "Okay, okay, fine. I owe you for not believing you. You're certainly stronger than your brother was. And I know you want to join in his honor... Jazmin Cullen, welcome to the Legion."

The storm was raging outside of Tatiana Mallor's house in northern England. Three women and one red-haired man were drinking tea in the living room, while a second man lied heavily injured upstairs. Outside, braving the storm, a humanoid being made out of rock stood looking towards the ocean, watching.

Monius Ellysius had been impressed by the 'golden boy', he certainly could put up a fight. But the sheer power of the two women fighting beside him had stunned him, he would have never thought that there could be women warriors this strong. The witch in white was particularly impressive, she was surely one of the most powerful sorcerers the world had ever seen. And the other woman, the princess, had actually managed to confuse the Eye! He hadn't thought that that was possible.

He himself had done very poorly. The Eye's awakening had forced him to leave the Zone of Phantoms in Iran, but he had not been cured, and although the long years of dormancy had allowed him to function for a little while, the effects of the lead poisoning had soon reappeared. He had been easily defeated by the Eye, and soon laid heavily injured on the floor, merely a spectator to the events unfolding.

The rocky entity had fallen soon after their arrival, it had been fighting on its own for quite some time. And so the princess, the white witch and the golden boy had had to deal with the Eye on their own. That they had managed to fight it to a draw was a statement to their power. After hours of incessant fighting (Monius Ellysius had lost consciousness by then), the Emerald Empress just stopped, saying that she had better things to do, and simply left. The other three, unable to stop her, could only stare in disbelief, amazed that they had actually managed to survive.

Events unfolded quickly afterwards. Proiectra buried her father and turned her back on her throne. Moldavians were ready for a republican government, she said, and since the only purpose of the Moldavian monarchy had been to contain the Romanescu clan, now that that mission had failed there was no purpose for the monarchy itself. Maizah tried to help Monius Ellysius, but not understanding what ailed him, she was not able to do much more than stabilize his condition. She had an even tougher time with the rocky entity, she understood nothing of his physiology (was it magical in origin? she didn't think so, it certainly seemed to have a consciousness of its own...). But the 'Blok', as they were now calling it, seemed to get better on its own. It still talked very little, though.

The 'golden boy' had decided to follow them; life as a model was boring, and he was ready for new experiences. Having witnessed his power, and aware that the fight against the Eye had just begun, Proiectra and Maizah were not adverse to letting him join them.

And then they left for England. The choice was obvious, Tatiana Mallor was the fourth member of Irma Ardeen's circle of telepathic friends, and bot Maizah and Proiectra had known her for years. Maizah had been concerned about having to transport Blok, but he said that he didn't need to fly, and then simply merged with the ground and reappeared in England.

He had done stupid things before. “Tagging” walls and assault and battery had landed him in juvy three times before his 13th birthday. He didn’t know why he did those things, and they certainly weren’t venting his rage like the “juvy” therapist had suggested. “Rage venting…” he chuckled to himself as he lay in the hospital bed. T-Rock knew better than to trust the words of a prison therapist, and a white one at that. Besides he felt just as angry after he did those things as he did before they happened. For it to have been “rage venting” the rage would have had to have left his body, he thought.

He picked up the remote and pointed it at the TV… (click) the set lit up the dark room. He immediately searched for the volume as the TV whined it’s “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” sound. “Damn sign-off screen”, he thought to himself. His eyes adjusted to the bright, static colors that illuminated the tv screen as well as his room. A quick glance at the hands of the clock showed that it was about a quarter ‘til four. (click) “…and that’s not all you get.” (click) He quickly changed the channel. After ten straight channels of informercials he could feel his anger starting to work on him.

(Click) He shut the TV off. Realizing that his legs were feeling very stiff, he sat up in his bed. “How long have I been here? I don’t remember being in the hospital.” He thought to himself. He could see light shining through the crack the door made with the floor. Just beyond he could see shadows rustling. “Nurse?” T-Rock shouted. His lips formed the word and his mind said it, but his ears heard nothing. He tried again, only louder and more determined. “Nurse!” Again his ears did not register the sound. Now he was not only angry, but this was down right confusing. He had heard the TV’s sound?

Rotating his body 90 degrees, he let his legs hang over the side of his bed. The floor was cold and smooth. T-Rock stood up and immediately wished that he hadn’t. The room started spinning without mercy. He hit the floor face first.

Maria Gambi put the last stitch in the pink and white costume. It had taken a bit of time, but all the costumes Brande Industries had ordered were now complete. Most had been easily made using a spandex blend. Others were simple cotton. But this last one was a special order. It seemed the young lady was allergic to almost all types of fabrics.

Maria folded the costume and put it in the shipping box. With a twinkle in her eye, she grabbed the marker and addressed the box "To: Irma Ardeen, the Satin Girl"

Gene Allen had just left RJ Brande’s office and he wasn’t in the best of moods. He had always heard what a tough man Brande was but he had only seen him as a cheery optimist…until now. And yet it was Brande’s cheery optimism that had caused him to experience the most effective, first class dressing down in his entire military career. There wasn’t a DI out there that could do it better than RJ without raising his voice, of that he was now convinced!

Well, if codenames is what RJ wanted for this wet behind the ears kids brigade, then codenames he would get! Gene still felt that name & rank should be sufficient in any paramilitary organization, but this was certainly like no military command he had ever served in. How had he ever let Zendack talk him into accepting this posting?

Settling down in his assigned office, Gene started listing each of the current members of the Legion. Then he tried to figure out some cute name for each of them. 45 minutes later he still had a column full of names with not one single codename listed after it…well there was one…Leviathan (his own!) Wasn’t that poetic justice!

Wandering out of the office in search of something to drink he spotted Lorna and Rex laughing about something across the open waiting area. His initial reaction was to call them to attention but he stopped himself. “Guess I have some attitude adjusting to do myself.” Instead he walked over to them and nodded to say hello.

“Hi Mr. Allen,” Lorna offered while Rex just nodded in response. “Guess I would be a little miffed if I had just had my outfit taken away from me also.”

“I was wondering if I could get the two of you to give me a hand with a little project Mr. Brande gave me. I’m having a hell of a time with it.”

Ten minutes later they were all seated around a conference table adjacent to Lorna’s office. Spread out on the table top were the files on each of the new Legionnaires. “Wow, Lorna, you’ve got most of it done already!” Gene commented as he began looking through them.

“I’ve been with RJ a long time now and I know how he thinks and what he wants. I figured he would be asking for this sooner or later so I’ve been putting it together from the start of his new “project” she explained.

“But, he must have known that you would do this. Why ask me for it?” Gene asked, a puzzled look on his face.

“Because you’re in charge of this group now,” Rex said. “It’s probably a good way for you to get to know everybody since you haven’t had the chance to work with any of us yet.”

“Rex, I believe I owe you a bit of an apology. You obviously are pretty sharp based on that observation and likely more than qualified to lead this group. I don’t think I showed you enough respect when we first met today. I’m sorry for that and I hope we can work together with no hard feelings.”

“That’s fine with me,” Rex replied. “I don’t begrudge you the position of leader. I know it wasn’t your decision any more than it was mine. And it does make sense. If we’re going to be an arm of the UN, we need to have a leader they can accept. Anyway, that’s over with, what do you say we get this job taken care of?”

Working together, the three of them began discussing the team members and their powers. Little by little the list started to come together until they finally had the formal list of codenames drawn up and ready to be posted. Some of the discussion had been light hearted and funny. Some of it serious. Each offered something and in the end they were all satisfied with the result, or as satisfied as a group can be with the results of a joint effort.

“You realize that Tela just won’t last as a codename for Irma, don’t you?” Lorna giggled. “As soon as the uniforms arrived and everyone saw what was written on her box, they all started calling her that!”

“Yeah, I know,” Gene grinned back at her. “But I can’t very well hand Mr. Brande a list of codenames that shows her as 'Satin Girl!' I'm sure the same thing will happen with some of the others…”

“Yep, some of the guys are already calling Quentin “Egghead,” or “Brainey,” Rex laughed. “But I guess “Doc” sounds a little better.

“Do me a favor Lorna, read through the list one more time. I want to be sure we didn’t miss anyone before we wrap this up,” Leviathan asked.

“Sure, Gene,” Lorna said. “Here goes…
~~~~~
Name ~ Codename
Rex Kline ~ Cosmic Boy
Garth Raines ~ Live Wire
Irma Ardeen ~ Tela (soon to be Satin Girl ~giggle!)
Lorna Durgo ~ Trinity
Tamara “Tina” Wazzo ~ Spirit
Quentin Docks ~ Doc
Reed Daggly ~ Shifter
Sally Digby ~ Shrinking Violet
Lyle Norga ~ Invisible Kid
Zoe Sanders ~ Kinetix
Jenni Ognats ~ Flash
Charles “Chuck” Tan ~ Rebound
Conan Doyle “Condo” Arlington ~ Catalyst
Nura bint Mordru bin Ahmad Al-Nayal ~ Dreamer
Brock Bannon ~ Blizzard
Val Armor ~ Valor (Val-iant Arm-or)
Jan Arrah ~ Element Lad
Gene Allen ~ Leviathan
Jazmin Cullen ~ Kid Quantum

“Okay, I think that does it,” Gene said.

HEY, YOU FORGOT ONE!

“Who said that?” Gene asked, looking around, first at Rex and Lorna, and then around the room to see if someone else had come in.

ME!!!! YOU FORGOT ME!!!! I WANT TO BE A LEGIONNAIRE TOO!!!


By now the three young people could see the little silver ship hovering up near the ceiling of the conference room. There was some sort of shimmering field barely visible behind it. Suddenly, a bright ray of light flashed down to the pen laying on the table and engulfed it in brilliant white light. As the light faded the pen stood up, walked to the paper and, in large flowing script, added something to the bottom of the list.

“Look! It wrote what looks like Q-W-Y-Z-L-Y-T’ under name and ‘Quislet’ under codename,” Rex gasped.

Gene buried his head in his arms on the table and sob “Oh god! Why me? This is just too much!” as Rex and Lorna laughed and Quislet (in the pen) did a passable imitation of a jig on the paper, adding a huge florish to the bottom of the paper.

WHAT FUN!!! the newest Legionnaire laughed.

"Excuse me, are you very busy right now?" Nura Al-Nayal was standing on the doorway. "I need to talk to you."

Gene and Rex stood up, staring at the platinum blonde at the doorway.

"Wow, you look stunning!" Lorna Durgo was smiling. "Did you choose this uniform yourself?" Nura certainly did not fit her stereotype of an Arab woman.

"Yes. I'm sorry, but can I talk to you all? It's quite urgent."

"Certainly!" Rex and Gene motioned to one of the chairs.

"I've just received a phone call from my sister. She says that she just survived a fight with the Emerald Eye of Akron. She's on her way to New York, together with four allies, one of which seems to be heavily injured. Do we have medical facilities to handle an invulnerable man from the past?"

"Oh, and by the way, you might just as well add all their names to that list you're doing. They all WILL join the Legion, you know."

Tatiana watched as the mysterious man from the past lay in his bed, growing sicker by the minute. He could barely speak anymore, and although his body looked chisseled and impressive, he was too weak to use the limbs he once labored so hard to strengthen. "Monius...Elysius..." he had whispered to her earlier, and she understood that it was his name. She and Maziah had taken to calling him "Mon-El" for short, since neither was sure if they were pronouncing it right.

Outside, Maziah talked to Projectra, as they tried to figure out what was going on. Jackie was terribly upset about the death of her father, but wasn't letting it show--she was being strong for the rest of them, while Maziah was trying to comfort her. The two women had their own reasons for being upset, but both showed a sublte and powerful inner-strength by focusing on the problems at hand. The Emerald Empress, as she now called herself, would have to be dealt with, although they had enough trouble of their own now.

They wondered about 'Blok', who stood outside with the model who possibly controlled the power of the sun itself, and what this creature was and was doing here. It had helped them though, and like the warrior who lay dying, deserved the benefit of the doubt.

Tatiana watched the young man and found herself strangely attracted to him. "Mon-El...it will be alright, we are trying to reach help..." she whispered, as she looked at his garb and wondered if it was truly Roman as they had guessed earlier. She was unsure what anything truly was right now...

"You do know who he is, don't you?"

Tatiana Mallor, sitting on her house's porch, was startled by the deep, creaky voice. Jacquie and Dirk were upstairs, sleeping, and Maizah was taking care of the injured man. His condition was deteriorating rapidly, they wouldn't be able to move him to New York, after all.

"You talk?" The rocky creature was standing beside her.

"Yes. I have been listening to the words of humans for a long time."

"You mean Mon-El? You know who he is?"

"Yes. I thought you did, too. You are the heir of the shadow wielders, aren't you?"

Tatiana Mallor looked at him, now completely perplexed. How did he know?

"Maybe you should call the Princess, this concerns her, too."

"You LOST the insect?!"

McCauley was beyond apoplectic. His face had turned a very unhealthy-looking shade of reddish-purple behind his large, thin-rimmed glasses, and the seven heavily-built guards cowered slightly at the rage of a man any of them could have killed on the spot. If he didn't drop dead of a heart attack first.

"NEED I remind you that this project is TOP SECRET? And that any revelation of the means of recruitment and control could FINISH ME?"

One of the braver guards spoke up, trying to say it wasn't their fault, that someone had underestimated the anaestetic needed for a body like Miraz's, but McCauley was having none of it. Glancing at some of the other guards around the room, he directed they take the disgraced guards to the experimentation chambers. IF they survived, they might prove useful again. Ignoring for a moment the heavy blow this would be if the insect talked - and was believed. He tried to calm himself for a second.

-------------

Earlier, Tikhik had tumbled roughly out of a portal, still within sight of the McCauley complex. Spent at the effort it had taken to override the dampening field, he had barely enough energy to crawl under a large rock and collapse.

Now, he was waking up, somewhat refreshed. Thinking things over, he realised that his first priority still had to be escape. He was too close to be assured that McCauley's thugs couldn't just grab him, he had to get as far away as possible. First though, he had to make sure of something. He tried to open a portal to within the large rock above him - and saw the exit portal appear just outside. He tried again and the same thing happened. Good, so he couldn't end up inside something solid. He opened another portal, to go as far as he could, and stepped into it.

Now, Gates had no real idea of how far he could teleport. It was fortunate for him therefore that he couldn't teleport outside of the gravity well he was in, as he would have ended up well into outer space had the teleport been purely line-of-sight. As it was, he teleported as far as he possibly could on the Earth and ended up homing in on something heavier than it should have been, given the mass it had...

--------------

Tom Kallor, bored again, kicked around the Sydney suburb he felt chained to. Because of something stupid that happened when he was a baby, he felt like he'd been wrapped in cotton wool his whole life - he broke curfew by 60 seconds, his parents were practically on the verge of calling the police. Doing anything actually exciting was out of the question.

And he was perfectly healthy - better than healthy. No-one could do the stuff he did, as he made himself heavier to shake the ground for the sake of it, scaring the birds in the process.

Just then, a little green hole opened in mid-air in front of him, and a giant black insect fell out. It just managed to mutter "Help, Помощь..." before collapsing into unconsciousness.

"What the hell...?"

The flames licked higher and higher. Whatever the firefighters did, the inferno only seemed to get worse. The orphanage was long lost.

In the conflagration's midst a few cries for help could still be heard. When the young girl thought she saw a fireman coming towards her, she managed to yell and wave. He came over, though the flames, and pointed the fire extinguisher in her general direction. She thought she was saved. The jet of flame which came from the "extinguisher" ended her hopes a few seconds before her lives.

Ten minutes later, only one survivor remained. As the naked blond girl - her clothes burned away - crouched in the inferno's heart, the flames licked at her skin without effect, as if it recognised it's mistress. She sobbed, cursing her lack of control over her fire, but the tears themselves were of fire rather than water. She didn't even notice the jet of flame from the "fireman" as it washed over her. Realising who it was, he radioed in.

"Sir, I've found the fire girl. She's naked and traumatised, but not physically damaged."
"Not unexpected. Tranq her and bring her back in."

He injected the tranquiliser into her skin, to almost no discernable effect on the already catatonic girl, then tossed the syringe away, watching as it quickly melted in the heat, then hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her to the statis pod in the nearby van, ready for transport straight back to the McCauley complex.

-------------

"Sir, we have news on the orphanage."
"Orphanage"
"Remember - the one you sent the fire girl to."
"Oh yes - did she do as expected?"
"Eliminated the whole building sir, and our 'firemen' picked off the few survivors. And picked her up again, ready for transport."
"Excellent,..." He smiled - a thin unpleasant grin - sometimes even subjects with little control had their uses "...and there is no-one left to associate the 'Supergirl' with her previous identity now?"
"We turned up one relative in the scan while the girl was having her memory altered yesterday - an 'Eltron Gander' - and we have a drive-by team on standby, awaiting your command."
"See to it." «Excellent,» he thought. By the time the Workforce was announced, there would be no-one left to associate the 19-year old Laurel Gand, as her documents now read, with her former (16-year old) Gander ID. Which meant that she would be able to be freely used in the planned publicity, without the restrictions a minor would have.
"And is there any news on whether the Workforce have accepted the mind-grafts?!
"I'm told they are beginning to come out of their trances now sir, but they'll need a good night's sleep before we can tell whether the alterations are going to stick or not."
"And the codename and symbol focus groups?"
"Due to finish up later today for a report tommorrow."
"Very well, keep me posted."

As his underling left the room, McCauley sat back in his chair and took his glasses off to clean them. Almost everything was going to plan. Damn that insect. And damn those guards for letting that insect escape. As things stood, that was the only cloud on the horizon, but it was a large and angry thundercloud. It had to be found. Fast.

He was so furious he could feel the veins on his head and at his temples pounding. His employees took one look at him and went scurrying out of the way, hoping to avoid his attention and its attendant ire. With most it worked.

"YOU! In my office now!"

"Get Sanders here right away! I don't care if he's dead I want him in my office in less than a minute!"

"Get Arlington on the phone!"

~~~~~~~~

The flurry of activity lasted well into the night. By ten o'clock, everyone was gone but everything he wanted done had been handled. Those who still had jobs (for the moment) went home breathing a huge sigh of relief, but one flavored with trepidation and uncertainty.

He sat in his penthouse apartment overlooking Metropolis through the wall to wall security glass windows, reams of paper and facsimile pages scattered on his desk and the surronding floor. Minutes passed and then hours as he contemplated his next move. Finally, around two in the morning, the first faint hint of a smile appeared on his lips.

"Yes, that's it," he thought to himself. "They didn't realize who they were going up against. Chu, Brande, McCauley, all of them will soon find out what happens when they decide to take on Lex Luthor!"

Circling his opponent, Hasim finally locked on the other man's fighting style. His "Nemesis" power kicked in, and he felt himself grow that much stronger, that much faster, that much better at anticipating moves. The other man was bigger, but that was no longer an asset.
Easily ducking a punch that would have connected moments ago, he moved in and hit the man square in the stomach. Doubled over, the man grunted in suprise; the kid hadn't seemed so tough before. A sharp blow to the nose brought the man's hands up again. Another hit to the stomach finished him.

The crowd roared their approval.

Maybe it was only a street fight in a back alley of Rome, but every fight gave Hasim more experience at using his nemesis power. He had fought his way across eastern Europe without losing a match. The crowd quickly dispersed as they always did, but the arranger stayed to pay Hasim his cut of the bets. He didn't need the money; father's insurance settlement had paid off well. And if he closed his eyes, he could still see the look on father's face as he...
But never mind, back to the task at hand.
Each fight helped him master his talents, and brought him that much closer to his goal.
They were a Legion, he an army of one.
He would perfect the powers granted him by Tisiphone and Nemesis, prove to the Legion what a valuable asset he could be, and join them.
United, he had no power against them, but one by one, eliminated from within...Hasim just smiled his dark, cruel smile and savored the thought.

"Ohhh... did anyone get the number of that lightning beast..."

Ella could only remember one other time she'd had a headache like this - when she came out of the fortnight-long coma the accident that turned out to have given her her powers had caused ("they'll recharge the batteries for us" - what the frell had she been thinking?). And that hadn't been so nice for other reasons - waking to find Mark had never been in a coma, had dropped her and Garth off at a hospital, then skiddadled off to who-knew-where, and Garth had been up & about for a couple of days - and on the verge of leaving too, to go after Mark. While she'd been stuck, she recalled bitterly.

She thought hard for something that may have caused this headache - her recent memories seemed blurry, and the last thing she could clearly remember was preparing to leave home, to follow Garth. But that felt like days ago, and time hadn't seemed to pass last time she was in a coma.

She opened her eyes - she was in bed, dressed in plain white cotton pyjamas that certainly weren't hers. She always wore an oversized T-shirt to bed. The room itself was nondescript - light poured in through the open window, edged with frilly white curtains, onto the cream-painted walls. Other than the bed, there was a plain wooden chest of drawers, with a vase of flowers on top of it, a chair, and a glass-topped bedside table. A digital clock, with red glowing numbers that read 06:46, and portable TV sat on top of this last item.

She didn't remember seeing this room before either, which didn't exactly help her feeling of unease.

Just then, the door opened, and a nurse, dark-haired in her early 30s, looked in. "Ah good - you're awake." She took out a small black object from her shirt pocket, pressed a button on it, said "Doctor, Ms. Raines is awake," into it and waited for the reply of "Acknowledged," which came in a male voice.

She backed into the room, pulling a trolley behind her. Coming over to the beside, she began to measure Ella's blood pressure.

"Excuse me - but why am I here? What is this place? What's going on?"

The nurse looked scandalised - "Don't you remember? These are your quarters. You joined the Workforce, remember? Dear me, that accident must have affected you worse than I thought."
"Huh? Accident?"
The nurse stopped taking her blood pressure and stood up. "Maybe you should get a more thorough examination from the Doctor. You might have a concussion."
"Really, I feel fine. What IS going on? WHAT accident?" Her eyes began to glow electric blue, leading the nurse to take a step back and reach for her pocket radio. Ella pointed one sparking finger at her - "Don't, not until you've answered my question. What IS going on?"
The nurse began to question her career choices, swallowed hard, and said, "I don't have all the details, all I know is there was a training accident and a few of the hospital wing staff were sent to the Workforce's quarters. That's all I know - honest!"
Ella powered down. The nurse sounded like she was telling the truth, and she supposed her splitting headache could have been caused by a training accident. The fact that she was supposed to have signed up for some "workforce" when she couldn't remember doing it didn't exactly help her confidence though. She looked at the nurse, who looked torn between finishing what she was meant to do, and ripping the door open and bolting for the hills. She held out her arm, which still bore the inflatable armband from the pressure-tester. "Go ahead," she sighed.

The nurse finished taking her blood pressure, temperature and a few other things as fast as was humanly possible, then hurried out the door, the instruments on her trolley jangling unhappily in the rush, leaving her alone again. For a few minutes, until the door opened again and a black doctor walked into the room. Ella thought for a moment of trying the intimidation routine again, but, oddly, she couldn't generate any current. The doctor noticed the look of puzclement on her face - "Inhibitor field," he smiled. "Nurse Choi mentioned your little routine, and I felt it best to take precautions. So what's wrong with you then - feeling disoriented? Dizzy? Headaches? Last few days not quite registering?" Ella nodded. "Not to worry - sounds like you may have a mild concussion." He sat on the edge of the bed, and took out a small optician's torch. "Which is to be expected, after the knock you all apparently took," he shined the little light into her right eye. "Yes, a bit of a delay there..." he did the same with her other eye "...and there. Nothing serious, and that a couple of days of bedrest shouldn't solve. What day is this - Wednesday? The team's not due to launch until Monday, so everything should be fine. Be sure to come to the hospital wing if you're not feeling better by Friday, 'kay?" He stood up, put the torch in the breast pocket of his labcoat and prepared to leave.

"Ummm... doctor?"
He turned around as he was walking out the door - "Yes."
Something else else made her change her mind, "Nothing."
He walked out and closed the door behind him.

She got unsteadily to her feet and walked over to the window. The desert sand that stretched into the distance whipped at her senses, and she looked down and to her sides, where a three-storey drop led down to what looked like the edge of some sort of complex of buildings, with a 10ft tall perimeter fence, topped with spikes and barbed wire, about five metres forward from her window.

Walking round, she looked in the chest of drawers, with four drawers labelled "Underwear, civilian tops, civilian pants/skirts, Uniforms" in vertical turn. The last was empty. The other three contained a mix of her own stuff, that she remembered packing, and brand new stuff she didn't recognise. She swapped the brand-new clothes she was wearing for familiar underwear and one of her favourite nightshirts, trying to see if it made her feel more comfortable, before collapsing back on the bed.

It was starting to come back to her now - she hadn't had the cash to follow Garth directly, and who knew if the Legion would accept her? - so when the Workforce men had come round offering her a place, she'd jumped at the chance. But even then, something didn't feel right about it, however right it seemed. And she couldn't think why...

"The results from the focus groups are in, sir." Crugg handed him a folder, containing seven sections, each with a detailed breakdown of the results of the codename groups. While he would never permit a decision on such a matter to be made without giving him results from similar excercises, he only occasionally actually read them. If he disagreed with the results, the breakdown didn't matter - another study would simply be commissioned to give the desired results. He sat the folder on his desk in front of him."

"Talk me through the preferred results then."

"The codename that came out best for the blond girl was 'Andromeda' - most people seemed to associate the name with stars, which is a helpful connotation to have. A few thought of the TV show, and, helpfully, very few knew of the mythological Andromeda."

"Ah yes, the chained princess..." McCauley smiled at the mild irony of the favoured name. "Any other names that did notably well?"

"Ultragirl also tested well, following on from your thoughts on the unavailable 'Supergirl' trademark, but the only name that tested consistantely well for the boy with similar powers was "Ultraboy," and it was felt that having both an "Ultragirl," and an "Ultraboy," was a bad idea for three reasons - it diminishes the possibility of trademarking, there was considered to be a risk of confusion amongst the general public, and you wanted this Laurel to be the "star" of the group (which testing has actually borne out as a wise move),"

"You sound surprised, Crugg."

"*ahem*... yes sir. Emmm.. continuing what I was saying - even these days, the automatic assumption of much of the public if you have such equivalent male and female names is to automatically assume that the male is in the lead. Which, again, works contrary to the planned strategy, which has the girl as the most prominent member of the group."

"Fine - so "Andromeda" and "Ultraboy" it is. Now what of the others?"

"Well, pictures of the redheaded girl was associated in tests with words like 'bright' and "spunky," so taking that stuff on board, together with the girl's electrical powers, we tried "Spark" among others, which tested far better for the girl than 'Lightning' and 'Thunder'. More in keeping with her apparent character."

She paused, waiting for a reaction from McCauley. When one wasn't forthcoming, she continued. "The mystic's spells are always accompanied by a dragon holographic display, so we thought to combine "Dragon" with some word meaning "magic user". We tried "Dragonwarlock," "Dragonwizard," "Dragonmagus," "Dragonmage" and a few others. It was considered by the panel that the four-syllable names were too clunky, so in the end, they settled on "Dragonmage."

Again no response. Crugg was beginning to get nervous. "Ummm.. for the telepath, we ran through many, many names, as there was considerable indecision on what may be a good name for her. "Esper" was discounted as she does more than mind-reading, and ESP is considered to be an outdated term anyway. "Tela" is the official codename of the Legion's telepath, although for some odd reason she's become more commonly known as 'Satin Girl'. She has no obvious markings or power signatures to use as a guide for a codename. Eventually, given her aggressive personality profile, we came up with "Enrapture," which tested well enough for use."

Again, silence. Her voice began to noticeably speed up. "For the magnetic kid, Polarity tested best, and for the boy who can make attacks rebound, a Legionnaire was already using Rebound, but "Reflecto," was a strong second. Anythingelsesir?"

He leaned forward, elbows on his desk, with the tip of each finger meeting it's counterpart on the other hand, speaking slowly and deliberately. "Andromeda, Spark, Enrapture, Polarity, Reflecto, Ultraboy and Dragonmage, correct?"

"Yessir." Crugg had annoyed him, it was blatant. She felt rooted to the spot, wanting nothing more than to run out screaming, but felt unable to move.

McCauley shut his eyes, deliberately prolonging her agony. He had already decided to accept the names, but while she was a capable enough P.A. that he didn't want to terminate her, he couldn't allow her to feel safe after that slip.

"Yes," he finally spoke after a delay of several minutes. "Those will do. And the symbols?"

She handed him another folder, also containing seven sections. Rather than asking her to talk her through them this time, he flicked to the summary pages, containing seven symbols, white on black to go with the dark blue with thick black neck to ankle vertical stripe uniforms the workforce would be wearing. He flicked through them slowly, occasionally making minor alterations to the symbols with a black or white ink pen. When he reached Ultraboy's unusual symbol, he stopped and read the sidebar. Apparently it had been something the youth himself had daubed on his surfboard and clothing after gaining his power, and had been included in the survey after no prior use anywhere could be found. It had no obvious meaning, however. He thought long and hard over allowing the use of such a symbol, but finally decided that, as long as McCauley Industries could trademark it, there was nothing particularly wrong with allowing it's use. And no-one of any ethnic origin on the panels had raised an actual objection, which was unprecedented... He waved it through, and handed the folder back to Crugg.

"Have the uniforms fabricated immediately, allowing for my alterations to the symbols."
"Yes sir." She lingered a moment too long.
"What are you waiting for? I'm not paying you to lounge around. MOVE!"

She almost ran from the room, but retained enough self-control to think better of it.
____________________________

The symbols BTW [codenames in brackets are the codenames from the comics, which won't be used here]:

Andromeda:


Dragonmage:


Enrapture:


Polarity:


Reflecto:


Spark:


Ultraboy:

Professor Vartan having witnessed the blast, found that the explosion transformed Randal Burroughs and John Drake-Hagale into a singular (and disembodied) energy being. Managing to create a somewhat crude containment suit for "Drake Burroughs".

Several weeks later Drake landed on the roof with Professor Vartan making some notes.

"It looks like the suit's thruster system works perfectly now."

"That's great," Drake replied, "Then we can work on getting me a body."

Vartan's face changed to a somber one, "We've been over this time and again Drake, with cutbacks at the university that'll be impossible. (Not that it wasn't already.) We'll have you turn somewhere else."

"You're the professor. You tell me where to go."

Vartan though for a moment, "You know RJ Brande's project? The Legion of Super-Heroes isn't it?"

Drake nodded, "Yeah."

"I'll make a call to Mr. Brande and see if he's interested in bringing you into the Legion. Besides if anyone can help you, it'll be the legion."

Eh? Pero, que paso? Donde estoy?...

When the young man came to, he was completely bewildered. He had no recollection of where he was or how he had gotten here. The last thing he remembered was that terrible explosion and the searing pain...excruciating pain! Surely he had died!

Dios mio!

No, he hadn't died, although he should have! He still remembered the feel of his skin bursting into flames as he was engulfed in a ball of fire from the explosion. It was horrible!

An yet, the more he thought about it the more he realized that it wasn't so much horrible as it was strange...fascinating, actually. Somehow, during the slow motion horror of the moment, it had felt right, as if a door had opened in his mind and he had finally achieved his destiny.

Lifting his head slightly and looking around, he realized that he was still lying in the jungle's underbrush at the perimeter of the LuthorCorp complex in Columbia. His charred remains had been ignored or overlooked by everyone in the mayhem following the explosion.

As his glance fell on his hand, he was shocked to see a patch of perfectly smooth skin at the base of what should have been his right thumb on his charred hand. As he moved his arm closer to take a look, his hand began flaking. Pieces of...charred cloth? or something began falling away, revealing his own unmarked skin underneath!

Que? Pero...como?

How could this be? He wasn't burned at all! It's as if his military fatigues had protected him from the flames! His gloves, shirt, pants, boots, even his facemask and helmet were burnt to a crisp! But he was fine! He was in pain, but the kind of pain one would expect from being hit by the force of a massive explosion but he was fine!

Gingerly climbing to his feet, Ramiro finished brushing the ashes and cinders off of his body. All that remained on him were his tee shirt and boxerbriefs. For some reason, those articles that fit snuggly against his skin had received the same protection as his body.

He needed to find some clothes and then he would be back to make these people pay! They were responsible for a great deal of suffering and damage in the area.

As his anger at the LuthorCorp facility workers burst forth, he was shocked to see a glowing aura instantly form around his hands. Suddenly the aura seemed to come into focus and......

Fuego!

Flames! He was shooting flames from his hands! The shock of this discovery ontop of everything else was just too much. As Ramiro keeled over in a faint, the flames went out of their own accord. His last conscious thought was that he was now like one of those idealistic cartoon characters he had so admired in the comic books he had read as a child: Superman, Batman, Astro Lad. He was now like them...he was Fire Lad!

No! No "FireLad"...."Fuego!"

Metropolis Mall, two weeks later. Kon and Douglas sat at a table in the food court, along two of his new Suicide Squad teammates, Jacques Foccart, his sister, Danielle Foccart, and Anne "Kono" Schlar. It was the day of their first mission, and they were all reviewing their parts before curtain call.

"Okay, team," asked Jacques, a strong, built man in his early twenties. "Everybody remember their part?"

"Yeah, yeah, we remember," said Anne, as she played with her light blue hair. Ah get you, Doug, and your sister inside Legion HQ, and she disables/hacks into the computer system while we search for useful info. Doug acts as security for Dani, and Kon is backup for when this whole thing blows up in our faces."

"Right, thank you, Anne. Any questions?" When nobody answered, he continued. "Code names?"

Kon: "Tetsuo"
Doug: "Ferro"
Anne: "Kono, like always."
Danielle: "Oracle."

"And I'm 'Fantomas' mission leader," finished Jacques. "Remember to always use them during the mission. We cannot afford to be caught." He paused for a second, and then continued. "Okay, people, the mission starts in two hours, so I suggest you get some rest and prepare yourselves. You're dismissed."

"Hey, Polarity!" It was the first training session since the "mass knockout," and the first one since they got their codenames, so it took him a few seconds to realise he was the one being called. "What is it Ella, emm, Spark?"

"Spark when in costume, remember." She smiled from her position of shelter in the irregularly shaped, multi-level training room. "Need a hand from mag-boy to get my target here."

He'd been told that the session was a "mixed" session - a mix of target-hitting and free-for-all. "What do you need?"

"If I go line-of-sight, it fires at me - but to blast it, I need to get line-of-sight. I thought you could redirect my blast for me, since electricity and magnets work together."

"Umm... sure."

"'Kay - it only fires at me, so get where you can see it and get ready." She moved back so that she was as close to seeing it as she could be without actually risking being fired at, and he, glancing repeatedly at where she stood, tried to take up position somewhere close by, at a good angle to pull the redirect.

"Ready?" He nodded in response to Spark's question. "Go!"

She let loose a blast, and a second or two later he activated his mag-field, intending to "push" the bright line in the right direction. Unfortunately, he got his charging the wrong way round and ended up "sucking" the blast in. While he didn't suffer any direct injury from the blast, since his system could process the electricity, it supercharged his field for the second or two it took Spark to power down, and several small metal objects hit him, one on the side of his head, knocking him to his knees.

Spark hesistated, her natural instinct to help him warring with the knowledge that going over to him would just get them fired at while he couldn't dodge. "Paul - you okay?"

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear the ringing in his ears, he called "yeah," then winced as he made his way gingerly to his feet. He looked over to her and tried to smile - "Hard head."

"It's okay - I'll find another way to get this."
"No - I'm okay," he said as there was a loud bang at the other end of the training room.
"Really? You should probably--"
"I'm fine. I know what I did wrong. Let's do this."

They took up position again. She glanced over to him, looking slightly concerned. He looked back, gave a slightly over-wide smile and nodded his head in the direction of the target. This time, the maneouver worked, and he pushed the crackling bolt of lightning onto the target, deactivating the weapons. She jogged over to him.

"Thanks - ow." He'd turned his head, and she saw the other side of it, black hair matted with red blood. "You should get that checked out."
"There's only 15 mins left - not worth the Wrath of McCauley..."
"Paul!" She spoke before realising she didn't really know why she'd objected.
"Sorry - I don't know why I said it like that."
"It's okay," in a tone that showed she meant it.
"Anyway - the bleeding's stopped, it's scabbed over, and it's not worth missing the last quarter of an hour. You'd better get the rest of your targets."
"Thanks - I owe you one." She smiled at him one last time, then moved on to get her next target as he watched her go. But his gaze hung on her a second or two too long, and he winced as Ultraboy used his inattention to slam into his back. Only the training-field that limited the force of the blow saved him from serious injury. As it was, he could still feel the bruise forming. "HEY - watch it!"

"Sorry m'man, but you know we're not s'pposed to hold back."

Muttering silently, Polarity began to pick himself up, when everything started glowing green, and he sank into the floor, which had suddenly become a sticky, molasses-like mass. Looking up, he saw a quick flash of red in the green. He was in one of 'Mage's dragon-shaped spell fields. What was this - "Kick Polarity Day"? He "felt" the steel beneath the goo, and, in repelling it, managed to push himself up and out of the spell-field. Unfortunately, annoyed as he was, he misjudged the force needed and was on course for another painful collision, this time with the wall. Luckily for him, Andromeda took pity on him and caught him before he connected.

"Ummm... thanks."
"Just watch yourself, and don't do that again," she said firmly, while aiming a blast of heat vision at Dragonmage, who conjured up a shield to deflect it.

She set him down, but within seconds he was on his ass again. Oddly though, it felt kinda good, and he couldn't quite muster the concentration to repel the attack. Enrapture smiled - actual telepaths aside, next to no-one guarded their pleasure centres. Give those a quick tap, and just about everyone's psi-shields vanished. And the fact that the good feeling made them less likely to defend in future, like a dog trained to do something unnatural for them by giving them treats, didn't hurt. She enjoyed making him quack like a duck for a minute, then got him to blast over her left shoulder, where she felt someone sneaking up. Unfortunately for her, she realised it was Reflecto after she'd had Paul let off the blast, and the attack bounced straight off him, knocking her to her knees and causing her to let Polarity go.

He smirked at the picture.

"Hey girlie, you want to bow down before me, you're facing the wrong way. Not that we couldn't get into something this way round, but..."

Angered at the indignity of her position more than the sexist remark, she mind-blasted him, knocking him on his ass - his powers only protected him from physical attacks. She would have kicked him for the remark, but remembered how his field was always on, whatever his mental state, in time. The "time up" hooter went a second later.

Andromeda helped Ultraboy up from the blow she'd delivered just before the time-up, and Spark went to help Polarity up - who was still recovering from the nightmare end to the session he'd had. Dragonmage spent a few moments in mediation, to recover his mental strength after a full hour of spell casting. And Enrapture headed straight for the exit, leaving Reflecto lying on his back to try and recover from the whammy she'd just hit him with.

"Right... thank you."

The last of the team had signed. The lawyer was surprised at quite how eager they all were - not one of them would have so much as glanced at the contracts had he not insisted they did - so HIS back was covered at least.

Did they really want to be part of this team so much that they were prepared to sign away five years of their lives to that weasel? It wasn't as if the contracts were especially generous - indeed, in what they demanded and permitted, they were über-restrictive - hell, it was the closest thing to them signing a piece of paper saying "my wish is your command" he'd ever seen.

«Ah well - they signed up of their own free will, let them take the hits,» he thought.
________________

He entered the room.

"It's done?" McCauley's face was almost impassive, but for the faintest glimmer of impatience in his eyes.

"It's done sir, but as I ment..."

"Your concerns are not mine. My copies please?"

The lawyer handed him half the stack of paper he carried, then as McCauley signalled him to go, he left the room, muttering "You bastard" under his breath.
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The petty concerns of a dead man walking made no difference to McCauley. Now he had the Workforce legally as well as psychologically bound to him, and the launch event set up and ready for two days time, he only had one real concern in the whole project. Unfortunately, it was a huge, black, gaping hole. The insect...

Search parties and even stolen satellite survellence had failed to find him, but testing suggested that his maximum range would leave him in the USA. To believe he had died in his escape attempt - perhaps by overextending himself - was tempting, but given that he was the only other person outside the complex who knew the about the experiments - and possibly even the Workforce's brainwashing - and was able to betray that knowledge could prove fatal. As he left the room, his temper betraying him, he wondered yet again where the hell it could be. He could only hope it was dead.
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Gates wondered for a second if he was dead, before deciding he hurt too much. Looking down in the half-light, he saw his claws and jumped. He still wasn't used to this ridiculous body McCauley's experiments had left him with. The fact that he could still breathe properly suggested he still had lungs & hence wasn't completely insectosoid - an insect his size would suffocate. He wondered how much of the real him was left.... Shutting his eyes, he let his mind wander to think how he ended up in this enclosed space. Had McCauley...? No.

He remembered that girl being tortured, and how he'd just managed to fight their dampeners enough to teleport out of the complex. Then how he'd teleported as far as he possibly could, farther than he'd thought possible, and collapsed at someone's feet. Someone wearing trainers. Then he'd passed out. He had no idea how he'd got from there to here, or where he'd been taken to. Some kind of militaristic complex? It would be typical to go from corporate torture to torture by some corrupt government, perhaps with designs on ruling the world. Well, this teleporter wasn't going to stand for it!

He tried to open a gate out, but only got as far as a pencil-sized opening before the pain he was already in got so intense that he winced and the portal collapsed. What was it? Some method of restraint? Or had he overtaxed himself in the teleport so much that... no.... "нет.... nyet....!!
________________

Tom hoped the insect-guy would shut up until his mum went out in five minutes. He didn't want to have to explain to her why he had a talking insect in his old toybox.
________________

McCauley needed to relax, so he went down to the sub-basement and stood before one specific cell he'd visited before. To know he had him chained and insensiate always reassured him. Although that was about to change....

"Hello again," he said, malice evident in his voice. "Thought I'd better let you know you're getting out tommorrow. And just so you know there's no hard feelings, I'll even give you a job, happy about that?" The sedated man made no response to the feeble taunting.

"And I'm sure you'll love working for me, it's what you've always wanted, isn't it?... Mano."

Zoe couldn't contain hern excitement as she checked her reflection in the mirror. Sure, she had missed her prom, but joining the Legion more than made up for that! All the girls back home would be green with envy, and all the boys would be dying to ask her out! She could just imagine it now, when the prom king himself would walk up to her, tapping her on the shoulder, and then, when she turned around, he would stare into her emerald green eyes and say, "Excuse-"

"me, Zoe, but could you help me with my costume?"

"Zoe whirled around to find Sally, her closest new friend, in the doorway, wearing her new costume. "The legs are too short; I was wondering if you could lengthen them?"

"But why? They show off your legs perfectly! I'd love to have an outfit like that! Although," she said, twirling her hair," this one is just perfect!"

"I'd rather not become such a center of attraction... I don't really care about clothes that much."

Zoe giggled. "I have a friend just like you back home! Her name was Sabrina, and she always had neat but kind of old-fashioned clothes. So did I, and the cheerleaders never let us forget it." She stopped giggling as the painful memories came flashing back. But only for a moment, then she brightened up again. "But at least now I can have all the beautiful clothes I want. And I'll make sure they know it."

"You still worry about what they think?" Sally asked, still in that same even, quiet tone of voice. "You're already beautiful, even without pretty clothes."

"But... beauty, intelligence, talent... none of them are really important unless the popular, powerful people like you, Sally." Zoe shook her head for emphasis. "I've learned that the hard way. Why, don't you want to be loved and accepted by everybody?"

"No..." Sally hung her head. "I've learned long ago not to care what others think."

"Yeah... well, I learned long ago that a little cheer can chase all your problems away. Come on, let's go and explore our new little clubhouse. Jenni told me that we have a virtual reality room! And our very own chef! Wana go grab some ice cream?"

"Sure! Think they have strawberry?" Sally said as they stood up, costume alterations all but forgotten.