West Pacific Supers: Rising Tide
Read West Pacific Supers: Rising Tide Online
Authors: K.M. Johnson-Weider
W
EST
P
ACIFIC
S
UPERS
:
Rising Tide
by K.M.
Johnson-Weider
Copyright © 2011
Blue Moon Aurora, LLC
Cover
art by Eric J. Carter, © 2011 Blue Moon Aurora, LLC
Published by Blue
Moon Aurora, LLC
First
published July 2011
All
rights reserved.
eISBN
: 09837984-0-8
eISBN-13:
978-0-9837984-0-8
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A special thanks to everyone who
provided early reader feedback (Darcie Chan, Waylon Jennings, Gene Johnson, and
Ron Johnson) and an extra special thanks to Terry Johnson for her unremitting
enthusiasm for reading every draft and providing much-appreciated encouragement
and feedback throughout the process. Finally, we must thank the core group of
players whose enthusiasm for the West Pacific Supers setting over the years
gave us the confidence to write this book: Alton,
crazy_monkey
,
hippokrene
,
Lightknight
,
Shylocke
, and wordartist179
.
West
Pacific Supers
takes place in a
world very similar to ours. While many of the locations and business names may
be familiar, this is entirely a work of fiction and real products, corporate
names, and locations are used solely as a literary device. Names, characters,
places, and incidents either are products of the authors’ imagination or are
used fictitiously. The actions depicted are not real and are not based on real
events.
Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For
more information about West Pacific Supers and future releases:
Any fool can handle a crisis; it’s the day-to-day living
that gets you down.
—
Anton Chekov
11:22 p.m.,
Thursday, March 21st, 2013
1050
Progress Street, Industrial Island
West
Pacific, CA
“I
really need to retire,” said Mr. Awesome as he did a quick sprint from the dark
alley and jumped over the security fence. It was a textbook landing on the
other side, not surprising as it was a maneuver he must have done hundreds of
times before. However, a sharp pain stabbed his left knee as he landed; his
knee had never healed properly from that fight with Dr. Duality three years
ago. He tried to ignore the pain as he moved quickly across the empty parking
lot to the nearest building; twenty years ago he could outrun any car on the
highway, but nowadays it had to be rush hour for him to catch a speeding
vehicle. Still, he was fast enough to close small distances quickly and escape
detection, especially at night.
“Mr. A, you’ve got
at least five more years before you’re too old for fieldwork,” said Dr. Annie
Sterling, West Pacific Super’s operations director, in his earpiece. She was
monitoring the situation from headquarters miles away across the bay in West
Pacific proper.
“Tell that to my
knee,” said Mr. Awesome as he stopped to catch his breath while remaining
hidden along the wall beside a dumpster.
“I asked about your
knee during last Thursday’s training session,” said Dr. Sterling crossly.
“It was fine then,”
lied Mr. Awesome.
“Liar. Tomorrow
you’ll need a full physical and x-rays, and right now we abort the mission –
turn around and get out of there,” said Dr. Sterling with an exasperated sigh.
“You know better than to hide injuries, the last thing we need is you on
Injured Reserve at the start of the Season.”
“Annie, I’m fine and
this is the only night I have open for the next two weeks, so we can’t
reschedule,” said Mr. Awesome who began looking around for a way into the
factory. It was a rather sprawling building, three stories high, and all the
windows and doors looked fairly secure. The only good news was that the lack of
lights gave plenty of darkness to hide in, though it could also be hiding
surprises and Mr. Awesome didn’t like surprises.
“Fine, but you’re
too old for this if you don’t pay attention to your body. You need to pace
yourself and you know that,” chided Dr. Sterling.
“Is the lecture done
so we can continue the mission?” asked Mr. Awesome.
“Yes, the lecture is
done. Anyway, this factory was built in ‘81 just after Industrial Island was
constructed. It produced heavy machinery for offshore mining operations until
the company that built it went out of business in ‘85. It was leased and
partially used by Abracadabra Toys as an assembly warehouse till ‘97 when they
moved to their new factory on the mainland. For the last 16 years this place
has been traded back and forth between real estate developers while rusting and
collecting dust.”
“Who owns it now?”
“Prime Properties
Consolidated, a local development group, but not one I have any information
on,” said Dr. Sterling. “Remember – it may look abandoned but there were five
cars in the north parking lot, which means at least five people and maybe a lot
more if they’re environmentally conscious or cheap and car pool.”
“Yeah, I know,
stealth, stealth, stealth. Alright, I’m going to take the ladder on the south
wall and head up to the roof,” said Mr. Awesome as he jogged a short distance
to the ladder. As he climbed, he mentally reviewed the situation.
He was on Industrial
Island, an artificial island off the coast of West Pacific City that had been
built to house experimental technology research in the ‘80s. The goal was to
reverse engineer various alien technologies scavenged after the Vanghel
Invasion in 1973, but three decades later there really wasn’t much to show for
it. Of course, the government had pulled out funding in the ‘90s. Since then
the properties on the island had been leased to various corporations to serve
as factories, research facilities, and warehouses, and there was even a small
amusement park on the north end. All that was left of the glory days was the
tidal power generators in the Pacific, hundreds of high-tech watermills that
produced power by the ebb and flow of the tides, and the integrated
desalinization/fission power plant, which probably should be closed down but
still provided most of the power to West Pacific. Nowadays, Industrial Island
was a shadow of its former self, a graveyard of broken dreams and lost
fortunes, like this abandoned factory.
The team had gotten
a vague anonymous tip on its hotline that there was unusual activity here
connected to the recent theft of
penta
-,
pente
-, panda-,
guacamolezene
or
something that was some experimental explosive developed by West Pacific
Laboratories. The formula and prototype compounds had been stolen in a very
slick operation. The anonymous tip was their first real lead on the theft, but
that in itself was a warning sign. There were three possibilities with
anonymous tips. First, someone involved had developed a conscience. Second, it
was a tip from a citizen, possibly a vigilante who had stumbled upon the clue.
Third, it was a setup. Considering how slick the theft had been, the odds were
on option three.
It was said that
superheroes don’t break the law, but right now he was trespassing and preparing
to break and enter. It was risky. He was team leader and if he was caught then
it would be all over the headlines and embarrass the team. Of course, he had
been caught before in similar situations and like all things it eventually
would blow over. All it took was one real crisis where you saved the day and
the public would forgive past transgressions, but until the real crisis came,
there would be a media firestorm. He still remembered the time he had been
caught breaking into the mayor’s office. And then there had been Polarity’s DUI
fiasco. The superazzi were bad enough without handing them some stupid mistake
to exploit.
Unfortunately, an
anonymous tip with no corroboration would never convince a magistrate to issue
a warrant and pursuing a warrant might tip off those involved if they were well
connected. The
pandaguacomolezene
was dangerous, very
volatile and in the wrong hands disastrous, so every lead had to be tracked
down. So he had to do it like the vigilantes did, which meant sneaking into
this abandoned factory and snooping around. He could have asked Seawolf or
Starfish to check it out as the factory was on the coast, but both of them were
in poor moods at the moment. It was the pre-Season and that meant excessive
publicity events, including the dreaded annual Costume Launch, and the Super
Draft. White Knight was even busier; Meltdown didn’t have a stealthy bone in
his radioactive body, and the glory hound Keystone was sitting out over
contract renegotiations. Everyone was tied up at the moment, except for the old
man, but if he got caught or messed up then it would be bad, very bad, for the
team. This was why he was dressed in an all-black jumpsuit instead of the
team’s red and blue costume. He looked more like a ninja than a superhero,
though a ninja with a paunch he thought ruefully.
“You know,” Mr.
Awesome panted as he reached the roof, “the team really needs a flier.”
“There aren’t any
good fliers in the Super Draft this year,” said Dr. Sterling. “Speaking of
which, have you made a final decision on the team’s Draft pick?”
“I know Seawolf
really wants Danny Chase, and Hodges did sort of tell her she could choose, but
we don’t need another water-orientated super – we’re becoming West Pacific
Swimmers,” Mr. Awesome said. “We
definitely
don’t need a wizard no matter what Meltdown thinks. The moment you add magic to
a team you start drawing in more magical crises. Remember how things were with
Circe on the team?”
“Preaching to the
choir, Mr. A. Alright, there should be a few skylights and ventilation ports
that can either give you ingress or a view inside. But who do you want from the
Super Draft?”
“I just want a kid
who doesn’t have a DUI on their record and can handle breaking and entering so
I can focus on my golf game,” chuckled Mr. Awesome as he moved to one of the
skylights and looked in.
“You don’t play
golf, but I like Cosmic Kid – he’s like a young version of you, just smarter
and better looking,” said Dr. Sterling.
“Yeah, but the word
is that he hasn’t rebounded from that scuffle with Seneschal X and we don’t
want to recruit a kid who is going to be in therapy more than in the field,”
said Mr. Awesome examining the skylight. “I’m seeing nothing here; the window
is painted over.”
“Then it’s probably
going to be dark in there,” said Dr. Sterling. “Did you bring the MOSED?”
“The what?” asked
Mr. Awesome, struggling to find the powered screwdriver on his utility belt.
“The multi-spectrum
optical enhancement device!”
“Oh, you mean the
night goggles,” said Mr. Awesome. “No, they make me nauseous.”
“They aren’t night
goggles,” said Dr. Sterling indignantly. “That’s like calling a HoloBerry a
phone.”
Mr. Awesome grunted;
he was holding a flashlight in his mouth to free his hands to work the
screwdriver on the bolts holding the skylight window in place.
“If Cosmic Kid
hadn’t suffered some trauma after his fight with Seneschal X, I would be more
worried about him,” said Dr. Sterling. “He’s done very well with Teen Ultimate
and I think he should be at the top of our list.”
“Sure, but Tampa Bay
is picking him at #3 so we don’t even have a chance at him, do we?” asked Mr.
Awesome, stashing the flashlight and unscrewing the remaining bolts as quietly
as possible.
“Well, maybe Tampa
Bay will get cold feet and go with Flash Freeze,” said Dr. Sterling.
“Annie, is there
anything I should know about?” asked Mr. Awesome as he paused from opening the
skylight.
“Nope,” said Dr.
Sterling quietly.
“Liar, what did you
do?” snapped Mr. Awesome.
“Let’s say,” said
Dr. Sterling cautiously, “hypothetically of course, that someone started a
petition and made sure it gained a lot of signatures, and even generated emails
from concerned citizens in Tampa Bay, about Cosmic Kid being an atheist,
vigilante-hating, homosexual who was severely traumatized from his recent
skirmish with Seneschal X.”
“Annie, that’s
horrible!”
“Yes, but not
illegal,” said Dr. Sterling.
“It’s libel. Libel
is illegal.”
“He is an atheist
and has criticized vigilantes, he could be gay, and he likely is traumatized
from his encounter with Seneschal X,” said Dr. Sterling. “So it is true, more
or less.”
“Annie, that’s
harsh. He’s only 19 and that’s poor form in regards to Tampa Bay. You shouldn’t
manipulate fellow superhero teams, even ones with pompous morons like Corsair
in charge.”
“If Tampa Bay takes
online petitions and emails seriously they deserve to be manipulated. Honestly,
within a week I could have a million signatures condemning the breathing of
oxygen. Any moron with a modem can click on a petition, but Tampa Bay has
idiots in PR who honestly are freaking out about this.”
“How do you know
that?”
“I hacked their
email system. They aren’t going to pick Cosmic Kid,” said Dr. Sterling.
“Damn it, Annie,
that is illegal, really illegal!” snapped Mr. Awesome.
“Hey, quiet down
there Mr. A! Breaking and entering is illegal as well and look what we’re doing
tonight. It’s all relative, shades of grey and all that.”
He sighed. It was
pointless to argue with her. “Annie, no more manipulation of Cosmic Kid or
Tampa Bay.”
“Fine, the wheels
are already turning anyway. We can have whoever we want in the Super Draft.”
“You need to stop doing
this stuff; one of these days you’ll get caught.”
“Okay, Mr. A., I’ll
be a good girl from now on.”
“Liar. Let’s get
this mission done,” he said as he lifted the skylight. “I’m entering the
building.”
He lowered himself
through the tight opening, swung, and dropped awkwardly down 15 feet onto a
metal walkway, making a loud clank as he hit. He pulled himself up and sprinted
across the walkway to an area of deeper darkness.
“Damn, Mr. A. you’re
making a lot of noise,” said Dr. Sterling. “I told you to use the stealth
suit.”
“The stealth suit is
uncomfortable as hell,” muttered Mr. Awesome.
She sighed but
didn’t press the point. “Okay, you’re moving towards the administrative
offices, but let’s check the secondary assembly area first. Go down to the main
floor.”
Mr. Awesome paused
to listen for anyone in the vicinity, before heading down a nearby metal
staircase as quietly as possible. His left knee was acting up again and he
grimaced from the pain. He shook it off and looked around a largely empty room
that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. “Nothing here.”
“Alright, there
should be doors to the north and a hallway that will lead to the main assembly
area,” said Dr. Sterling.
