Off The Pages

The news got onto the ordeal almost immediately.

“Medical records have shown,” a news anchor said, “these people experienced a genuine healing event. Mary Withers, for example, had a missing hand from an electrical accident several years ago, and after the sermon yesterday, now has her hand back. Religious leaders…”

Jericho turned off the TV. He turned to Jennifer. “This is going to hell really quickly,” he stated.

Jennifer cleared her throat. “It’s bullshit,” she replied. “They’re already riots in several places. I had to deal with a bunch of religious freaks in Arizona going from house to house burning people alive if they seemed non-Christian.”

He looked at his phone. “There’s a guy in England who’s threatening a local Jewish group,” Jericho pointed out. “He’s got electrical powers. Why don’t you go deal with that, and I’ll take care of some business of my own?”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said, nodding.

I.

Jericho watched as she stepped outside the cabin and took off. He changed into a pair of loose jeans and a t-shirt, slipping his cell phone into the pants pocket after placing a barrier around it. Before he stepped out, he turned to the woman preparing food for her children. “I won’t be gone for too long,” he said.

Her expression told him she had it as together as she could get. “I’m going to feed them and then I’ll be off to bed,” she said. “I…this isn’t right for me to say, but you guys are going to have to kill my husband, aren’t you?”

A sigh escaped his lips. “I would like not to,” he said. “I really would. But it’s not looking good. He just made it a life-and-death issue.”

She tended the pan. “I know,” she replied. “It’s just not fair.”

“No,” Jericho agreed. “It’s not. In a fair world, none of this would happen.”

He stepped outside and took to the air. It probably wouldn’t have taken long to teleport there, but he wanted to feel the wind against him. A wave of calmness passed over him as the air brushed past his body. In a few minutes, he arrived at a small panel house, on the outskirts of a small town, just off a dirt road. He knocked on the door.

A panel slid open and eyes regarded him. “Come in,” an older man’s voice cried.

“It was a good idea to keep this off the map,” Davis Wilson said, sitting in a chair off to the side.

“I kept this place to meet with informants in secret,” Sam Louis remarked, shutting the door and locking it twice, “not to meet with people likely to become public enemy number one.”

Jericho took a seat at the small wooden table. The house had that late seventies yellowish décor, with faded light blue tiles in the kitchen and ancient linoleum, complete with barred, translucent windows. The outside wore lower class decrepit paneling. All in all, he considered it a perfect fit with the abandoned homes from the 2008 crisis. “So,” he asked, “you agree that he’s going to target Jennifer and I specifically?”

Sam nodded. “Yup,” he said. “And what’s worse is, we expect this to happen soon.”

“Not that I doubt you,” Jericho argued, “but why’s that?”

“Logically,” Davis cut in, “you’re the most powerful ones. And let’s face it, we expect that this figure is very powerful. Maybe as powerful as or more powerful than Jennifer.” Davis saw the worry building on the man’s face. “Let me introduce you to someone.” He gestured.

A third man, seated at the table, had been quietly waiting for his turn. Jericho had seen the mid-forties person, red t-shirt with collar, and black jeans, unassuming build, and wondered. Still, he hadn’t said anything because he wanted to hear what the FBI agents had to say first. The man had a scholarly look about him, his green eyes and vaguely English features, round chin and close together soft eyes, and a look on his face of intrigue. “You’re Jericho Torvalds,” he introduced, “Sam and Dave here have told me all about you. My name’s Raymond Weiss.” A short cut, right parted head of wet soil colored hair adorned his head, with small threads of bangs touching his forehead.

The billionaire open mouth smiled and extended a hand. “I’ve been wanting to get in touch with you!” he exclaimed. “You’re the physics professor from UC Berkley!”

“Believe it or not,” the man replied, “I’ve been wanting to meet you too, because I think this whole thing has gotten out of hand, and you guys are going to need my help.” He shook the man’s hand. “I think it’s best if I show you what’s been going on with me.”

At the University of California, Berkley, in a physics lab, Doctor Raymond Weiss sat staring at a series of equations on a board. For the better part of two months, he’d been pouring over data sent to him. All of the equations had proven solvable except these. The math had evaded every attempt to figure it out, and his effort was so focused he didn’t notice the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Doctor Weiss?” a young voice asked.

“Oh!” Raymond said, startled. “Sorry, I’m just…too focused, I guess.” He extended a hand. “You are?”

“Ah, I’m Alan Jordan,” he replied, “I was transferred here from Caltech to work with you on this project?”

“Ah, yes, Mister Jordan,” Raymond said. “Working on your doctorate. I read your hypothesis, and I must say, it’s intriguing.”

Alan nodded. “Thank you.” He looked at the equations. “Is that the latest results?”

“Yeah,” Raymond explained. “They repeated the experiment three times, and these are the equations they came up with to explain the results.” He rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “I hope we can solve this because otherwise it means they’re on the wrong track.” He laughed. “Hell, at this point, I hope anyone can solve this, but I’d like it to be me.”

Alan laughed. “Hey, I thought the money in physics was proving people wrong!”

Raymond returned a chuckle. “Maybe,” he agreed, “but on this issue, I want them to be right.” His smile soured. “Otherwise, it’s five years wasted in the wrong direction.”

“I’ll, uh, get to work in a minute,” Alan replied. “Do you want me to do anything right now?”

Raymond snapped his fingers. “Yes, actually!” he cheered. He reached into his pocket and produced a five-dollar bill. “Go upstairs and get me a Diet Doctor Pepper from the machine and get yourself something.”

“Sure thing,” Alan said, exiting.

Raymond sat at the computer on the instructor’s desk and went over the video of the experiment again. Since the evening sun was setting, and all his classes were over for the day, he wanted to work some more before going home. No students had come during office hours, so he often came back to this lab because it felt like home to him. He’d worked here as a student during his undergraduate days, some years ago, and it brought him back. Color patterns began moving across the screen. He paused the video and the colors continued. It took a moment to register it didn’t come from the screen.

He turned his head around to see the cause.

“What in the…”

His words died out mid-sentence. At some point, he found himself having stood up and strolling towards the outside, himself not realizing it at first.

He pushed past the lab door and from the hallway, he saw out through the window to the side corridor, up at the sky. Lights shot through the sky like disco ball refractions strapped to missiles. A frantic hand fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone, and he almost dropped it as he made a mad dash for the courtyard outside the building.

Out the door, he mashed the record button and made it five steps before slipping on a wet patch and meeting the grass face first. An instant later, before pain could register, he slammed a palm down and shoved himself to standing.

With the phone held up, his mouth hung open in disbelief, and his eyes taking in the impossible sight, his mind raced a billion miles per hour. From single white points in the sky, balls of color shot out in various directions and speeds, leaving trails of colored light behind them, and each one varied in motion. A green ball of light moved in a zigzag pattern, while a similar shade of green went in a different direction and a swirling motion. After a few seconds, more than thirty people still on campus stood outside staring up at the event that would later become known as The Lights.

After minutes, a final flash of light shot out and the sky returned to normal.

As Raymond walked back to his lab, he stared at the video he’d just recorded, as it played on his phone. None of it made logical sense. A thousand different possibilities emerged, but his mind didn’t feel like settling on any of them. A cursory search of the internet showed every message board and social media feed positively erupting with videos, photos, and every statement ranging from biblical to conspiratorial and all in between. The evidence showed that thousands of places across the globe each experienced the Lights, meaning the whole world had seen these things at roughly the same time.

He slid into the instructor’s chair behind the computer.

“Did you see that!”

Alan’s shout as he practically threw the door open broke Raymond out of his staring. He looked up. “Yeah,” he said. “I did.”

“What’d you think that was?” Alan almost yelled.

“I don’t have a clue,” he said. “Optics aren’t really my thing.” He glanced between the board and the assistant he’d just acquired. “Well, it’s clear we’re not getting any of this done tonight. You can go home.”

Alan pondered. “Yeah,” he concluded, “you’re probably right. This isn’t my thing, either.” He folded his arms. “Are you going to be okay?”

Raymond shrugged. “That depends on what we find out about this…” He stared at the screen, scrolling through the Facebook feeds. “Whatever the hell this turns out to be.”

Alan let out a breath. “Oh man, this is going to be huge,” he exclaimed.

“It sure as hell will be,” Raymond replied, nodding.

“I’m going to go home then,” Alan said, a bit of a laugh in his voice, “because I’m going to be useless at figuring this out.”

“Don’t worry,” Raymond advised. “We’ll get back on track as soon as possible. I promise.”

“Don’t leave me hanging,” Alan joked. “Bye.”

Raymond waved. “Goodbye.” He set the phone down and closed the web browser. This ordeal had gone Twilight Zone right away. Whatever this genuinely turned out to be, the scientist in him refused to believe this was a legitimate paranormal event, because that would mean there could be no explanation. He felt there had to be an explanation, even if it didn’t come in his lifetime.

Then he noticed it.

He took a breath, closed his eyes, and released.

Unobtrusive, not getting in the way, it was, but it was still there.

There was…something…in the back of his mind. He struggled to describe it to himself. It wasn’t physically located anywhere in his brain meat. It occupied an incorporeal mental space in the back of his mind, and even that struck him as somehow the wrong explanation. What was it, a twinge, he wondered? Closing his eyes, he focused on it, and the image came to his mind. A glowing ball of light, a dark shade of yellow, sat in what he somehow knew—but couldn’t explain how he knew—was the “off” position.

He blinked, and let a nervous snort escape his nose. You’re going crazy, Ray, he thought to himself.

Still, if this was nuts, he wanted to see how nuts, so he focused some effort on it and pulled the “trigger.” The ball of light popped upward, turned a brighter shade, and latched itself into the “on” position. Nothing felt different. He let out a defeated sigh and rubbed his eyelids. “God, this is just insanity,” he uttered. He shook his head.

Then he looked up and saw the familiar whiteboard.

His eyes went speed addict wide.

Within moments of seeing the board, he knew the answer.

“Oh my God,” he muttered. “Months of work.”

His fingers started scrawling the incomplete parts of the equation in the spots where they should be. Almost before he realized it, his hands wrote the final answer next to the bottom line of the last equation. Standing back and staring at it, he realized he didn’t need to re-check his work; his mind had done that several times just by looking at it. He took a picture with his cell phone.

A number got dialed by fingers almost too frantic to type. He held the device to his face. “Yes!” he shouted. “Doctor Weatherford!”

“Do you…”

“No!” he shouted, interrupting the old man. “I don’t give a shit what time it is over there! I’m texting you something. Take a look at it.” He texted the photo of the whiteboard. Almost at once he had to hold the phone at arm’s length because of the volume of the screaming on the other end.

Several hours later, he stood in a lecture hall at Oxford in London, surrounded by dozens of the most brilliant scientists, some of which, he hadn’t met. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I think it’s safe to say I’ve gotten smarter. The million-dollar question is, why? I think it’s related to the Lights, but I don’t know anything anyone else doesn’t know.”

An elderly scientist stepped forward. “Let me tell you something,” he began, “I showed these results of yours and some others to a colleague, and he had to be hospitalized after fainting and hitting his head on his sink. This is…” he trailed off into a short chuckle, “this is a fucking magic trick.”

Another colleague went over a dozen different photographs of Raymond’s recent work. “That’s putting it mildly,” he added. “Doctor, I hate to sound pessimistic, but most of the people I talked to said they didn’t expect these problems to be solved for over a century, and,” he fished for the words, “one said it would possibly take sci-fi level artificial intelligence to even figure it out.” He looked up. “His words, not mine.”

“Your hypothesis,” Doctor Weatherford interjected, “is selective alterations to the laws of physics.”

“Yeah!” Raymond said. “Look, I know it sounds crazy, but hundreds of people have reported seeing impossible things. The guy who could catch fire at will and not be harmed. How is his biochemistry still possible under those kinds of temperatures? What is his fuel source? How does he breathe? The only way this makes sense is if he is altering the laws of physics regarding his body. So, it acts like fire but allows his body to still function as his body. I do not believe this is impossible to explain, and I do not believe this is a religious event.”

“You’ve single-handedly moved at least eight fields of science ahead a century,” Doctor Weatherford replied, “otherwise we wouldn’t even be talking to you here. Do you realize this could be a mass hallucination?”

“Yes,” Raymond admitted. “As a scientist, I must admit the possibility that this is not happening, and everyone has somehow had a mass hallucination.” He reached behind the instructor’s desk and turned on the television. The news reported several new events. A man in India got run over by a train and had healed by the time it moved past him. A woman in Mexico could turn herself to solid stone, and yet her body still functioned like normal. “But think: if this is a mass hallucination, this is the most complex, most dramatic mass hysteria in history!”

“Seems unlikely,” one colleague replied.

“Also,” Raymond added, “think about this. That means for most of my life, I’ve been smart, yes, but not anywhere close to this smart, then all of a sudden, in one night, I demonstrate intelligence to easily put me on par with Newton and Einstein?”

“Difficult to imagine,” Doctor Weatherford shot back, “but not impossible.”

“I’ll admit it could be false,” Raymond responded. “As a scientist, I must admit the possibility. But you, Charlie!” he pointed to his Canadian colleague. “You’re the optics expert. You tell me what the Lights were.”

Charlie pondered. “I don’t know,” he commented, “but you’re talking about magic.”

Raymond gestured. “It could be physics from a different universe or universes,” he thought out loud, “but in any case, it behaves like a science. This guy doesn’t get a random effect each time, he bursts into flame every time. You go to start your car, and as long as it’s working and has gas, it starts. I don’t think this is paranormal, because if it were, why is there a pattern at all?”

“Alright,” Doctor Weatherford said, “you’ve made a good point. What do you recommend?”

“Take anything that isn’t of the utmost urgency right now,” Raymond advised, “and start studying this. Powers. The Lights, all of it. This, gentlemen, has to be priority one.”

They pondered it. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea,” Doctor Weatherford said.

Over the next several weeks, he traveled to various corners of the globe, interviewing scores of people who had developed powers, and testing on them equipment he invented. Interviewing particle physicists at CERN and elsewhere revealed that new particles were being discovered, and most of them, to their surprise, had interactions with ordinary particles. This bothered them, because all of the particles relevant to the daily life of people had been discovered; the rest should be either too weak to interact or too short-lived to interact. These displayed bizarre effects not seen before in the Standard Model. So, he had to put his newfound intellect to the test and develop his own equipment.

“So, Doctor Weiss,” Alan said, going over the latest report, “anything new?”

“It turns out that there’s a dozen or so differences between the same power expressed by two different people,” he explained. “The problem is, we can’t seem to find a clear answer as to why.”

“So, you think there’s a hierarchy of powers?” Alan asked.

Raymond nodded. “I think there has to be,” he explained, “because we’ve seen powers express in different ways. A woman in Chicago defended her house against a break-in, a powered individual shot her with a projectile, and the wound healed before she got to the hospital. A guy with regeneration in Ireland got into a bar fight with a pyrokinetic, and his burn didn’t heal for a day.”

“There could be other variables in play,” the assistant suggested.

“Yeah, probably,” Raymond said, “but it seems to me that not all of the powers, even the same powers, are at the same level.”

“Doctor Weiss!” a voice cried.

They turned to see a man rush in. “Something new?” Raymond asked.

“You’ve studied barrier makers extensively,” he explained, “and you said you wanted to study one that could produce more than just a local effect?”

“Yeah?” the professor asked, intrigued.

“We found one for you,” the man said. “Lives in a South American rainforest, middle of nowhere, has a little corner of the forest sectioned off by forcefields almost a kilometer in diameter.”

“Tell me you got in touch with him,” Raymond implored.

“You two have got a flight in three hours to Rio,” the man said, “and then you’re off to meet him. He trades with locals. He wouldn’t tell us his name beyond just ‘Ricardo.’” He handed some plane tickets over. “Get all the equipment together.”

“Awesome!” Alan cried. “This’ll be the best test yet to prove your hierarchy hypothesis.”

The next day, they trekked through the jungle. About thirty minutes into their hike, with multiple guides helping clear a trail, they both realized why physicists almost never went into a rainforest. With aching feet and every kind of mosquito chemical smeared on their flesh, they cut and shoved their way through foliage and over fallen brush of every kind.

Until, that is, the terrain cleared out, and they came to an opening. The opening had a transparent wall only visible through slight distortions on light passing through it. Raymond stepped forward and placed a hand against the firm forcefield, pressing against it. It held. “Are you the ones I spoke to?” a Hispanic voice asked with accented English.

“Uh, yeah,” Raymond introduced. “Doctor Ray Weiss, University of California, Berkley, I’m studying superpowers and how they interact with the real world.”

An inward semi-spherical protrusion stuck inward. They slowly stepped into it, at which point it pinched off the outer wall and let them into the enclosure. They marveled at what they saw. The ground had been levelled by forcefield. A circle of rainforest a kilometer in diameter created the floor of a dome that stretched upward for about a third of a kilometer. Raymond looked up, and even saw the forcefield formed into a fine mesh to keep bugs out and let air circulate in parts. It was the most complex use of the power he’d yet seen. In the center of the area, a house reminiscent of suburban America rather than Amazon jungle. It had a familiar aluminum siding body, complete with windows, a slanted roof, and a front porch. There stood several nearby sheds containing battery arrays connected to huge solar panels arranged around the house for power. What this ‘Ricardo’ did for water and sewage, he didn’t know, but everything else looked modern.

They knocked on the door, and it opened. A mid-fifties man in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt greeted them, beer in hand. “Hey!” he cried. “It is nice to see people every once in a while.” He gestured. “Come on in.”

Alan and Raymond began setting up equipment in the living room. Everything looked like your average abode in midwestern suburban America. “Don’t worry,” Alan said, “we brought our own power supply.”

“So,” Ricardo cut in, “you want to study my forcefields?”

“Yeah,” Raymond explained. “We’ve studied about six different people who can generate forcefields, but none come anywhere close to how complex yours are.”

“I guess that makes me special then, huh?” He took a swig of beer. “Man, I ain’t never seen stuff like that.”

The professor looked at the scanners he pointed at. “Yeah, makes sense,” Raymond answered. “I had to invent this whole cloth.”

“Neat,” Ricardo said.

“I’ve been studying how these superpowers interact with the local laws of physics,” Raymond explained. “And I think we’re awash in new interactions we’ve never seen before in our universe.”

Ricardo chuckled. “Dumb person speak, please,” he joked.

“Well,” Raymond stated, “before the Lights, if you wanted a new particle to do something, like bend a spoon with your mind, you couldn’t have it, because we would have seen it already. Sure, there are new particles out there, but they aren’t relevant to daily life. These new…things…clearly are relevant to daily life.”

“Plus,” Alan interjected, “these things, whatever they are, are interacting selectively with the laws of reality. That’s how someone can regenerate a wound far faster than normal biology should allow.”

Raymond pointed. “Oh, if you could,” he told Ricardo, “now would be a great time to form a bubble around you. Please create some indentations for these to stick in.”

“Gotcha,” Ricardo agreed.

A spherical shield formed around him, and the two stuck the bread loaf-sized scanners into each slot in the bubble and attached them by cable to a large box connected to a laptop. A buzzing sound echoed through the room, and Alan changed some settings on a turn dial while Raymond typed some details into the laptop.

“Look at this,” Alan said, pointing to a light on the large box. “There’s a slight deviation here.”

Raymond looked over. “That’s great,” he commented. “That’s something we want to see.” He inserted a few more details into the program. A loud buzzing echoed. “Alright, just a little more.”

The box emitted a loud beep and the buzzing stopped. “Did you get it?” Alan asked.

The professor pumped his fist. “Great!” he shouted. “We got it!”

Alan looked at the list of results. “They’re all the same…” he scrolled down with his finger, “…except that one!”

Raymond snapped his fingers. “We’ve got a potential candidate for judging a hierarchy of powers!” he cheered.

“You guys get what you’re looking for?” Ricardo asked.

“Definitely,” Raymond replied. “It was most definitely worth it.”

They disassembled the equipment and packed it away in their cases. Afterward, they backed up the data on several USB drives, and placed it in the computer case. Alan pulled out a cassette recorder. “Didn’t you want to record a conversation?” he asked.

“Oh!” the professor realized. “I did. Is that okay with you?”

“No problem,” Ricardo said.

They had a chat. After the Lights, the Mexico native discovered he could create forcefields of all shapes and sizes, even ones with sharp edges. So, disgruntled with his job of teaching English at local schools and other odd tasks, he used his newfound powers to extract resources from hard to reach places and used the money to travel into the rainforest and set up a house away from everyone. When he needed resources the jungle couldn’t provide, he traded with locals.

“Fascinating,” Alan said. “You really don’t miss the urban life?”

“Sometimes,” Ricardo admitted. “Honestly, it’s nice and quiet out here. The forcefields stay up even when I’m asleep, and as long as I keep the air circulating, everything’s okay. I’m perfectly safe here, and I have some of the best sights in the world.”

“And besides,” Raymond noted, “when you go exploring, you can take your power with you.”

“Right,” Ricardo said, pointing. “I can have as many as I want, and it’s great.”

Raymond off-handedly looked at his watch. “Oh, geez,” he said, “sorry. We’ve got to go.”

“If you want,” Ricardo said, “I can give you an easy way out of the jungle.” He pointed. “You came in from the northeast, right?”

The two guests looked at each other in confusion. “How’d you know?” Alan asked.

“My shields can pick up sights and sounds,” Ricardo explained. “I saw and heard you coming.”

Raymond shook his head. “Amazing,” he said.

Once they stepped outside, they saw, just outside the dome, a staircase leading up over the forest canopy. “Nice talking to you,” their host said as they left.

“Pleasure was all ours,” Raymond said.

As they climbed, they saw the walkway had handrails on each side made out of light to keep them from falling off. It was the oddest experience the group had ever had up to that point. They walked over the jungle, with one hell of a sight below them, and without having to trek through brush. On the other end, there was a staircase leading down. As the last person stepped off carrying a huge case, the whole thing vanished.

“Hey, is there a Raymond Weiss here?” a grizzled, old voice cried out.

The whole group turned to see a Jeep pull up, and out of the passenger side, stepped a man in a dress shirt, tie, and khakis, exactly the wrong kind of attire for this climate. The professor approached, apprehension high, arms folded. “That’s me,” he introduced.

“Sam Louis,” Sam introduced, “FBI. I’ve got a situation and you have a person who really wants to meet you, and I think both our problems have the same solution.”

Raymond tilted his head a bit in confusion. “Okay,” he replied, “I’m all ears.”

“How’d you like to meet Jericho Torvalds?”

The scientist perked up at Sam’s question. “I’d love to,” he admitted. “Copying powers? That’s one hell of an opportunity to study.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam replied, “you help us, we help you, that sort of thing.”

“So, you hit the ground running,” Jericho commented, after the vision ended. Going into the man’s memories enabled him to get a better grasp on the science. He also copied the man’s intelligence power, so he made a mental note to set him up financially in payment. “I have to thank you, you’ve really done me a huge favor already.”

“That’s what I thought,” Raymond said. He cleared his throat. “I figured we could work better together. Are you working with the Capacitor?”

“So they’re just naming her after the character, now?” Jericho mused out loud. He sighed. Copyright law be damned, he figured. “Yes, I am, and she’s been great to work with.” He coughed. “Regardless, please tell me the mad reverend and his false messiah are as powerful as Jennifer.”

The physicist collected his thoughts. “Honestly, I knew both Jennifer and you were heavy hitters because I’ve built a long-range scanner and a short-range scanner,” he explained. “The short-range scanner gives me great results, useful results, but if I just want to find out where the powers are, I can detect a higher concentration of these ‘new interactions’ with the long range.”

“Like a radar for supers?” Davis asked.

Raymond did a seesaw gesture. “Eh, kinda.” He paused to gather the right words. “I can’t tell the difference in power between Jennifer and Jack Hurst long-range, but I definitely can tell they’re at least on par.”

“What about me?” Jericho asked, hand on chin, worried.

“You’re high-up,” Raymond explained, “but I suspect that when you copy a power, you don’t upgrade that power in terms of hierarchy.”

“Which is why the fake Jesus could turn the powers off.” Jericho sighed and leaned forward, clasping his hands together in contemplation.

“And if he is that powerful,” Davis reminded, “that means when he says, ‘we’re at war,’ he means it.”

“So,” Raymond asked, “what do we do now?”

Jericho sat in contemplation for a whole minute. They watched him. Davis and his boss looked at each other. “We’re going to go back to the office,” Sam offered, “and see what we can do before everything goes to hell.”

“Good idea,” Jericho stated. “I’m going to go get my family and make sure they’re safe, and then we’re going to meet up with the main group to discuss tactics.”

II.

Jennifer took to the sky and, having seen the synagogue under attack, arrived on the scene in moments. The innocents were tied and gagged. The attacker, a man in a brown trench coat, had electricity arc off his hands. One man lay on the ground, twitching but still barely alive. “You made a huge mistake,” she warned. She took off running before the sneer could fully form on her face. Reality froze around her, and she drew her fist back for a knockout blow to his chest, just enough to knock the wind out of him.

A man appeared before him and drove vibrating fists into her chest and face. The blows jolted her back and the shockwaves zoomed through her body and disoriented her. She came up for a swing, but her arm sailed through empty air as he delivered a storm of jabs to her gut and dashed behind and got her dozens of times in the back of the head. Her world went spinning and she collapsed to one knee. It took every ounce of effort not to drop out of both super speed powers by reflex. He arrived in front of her and went for a knee to the face.

The knee collided with her temple at impossible velocity, jolting her head backward and sending a sharp needle of pain. Upon its collision, she sent a surge through him. The speedster’s entire nervous system went haywire with random jolts of current causing him to collapse to the ground in a seizing agony. As soon as it began, he dropped out of super speed and went frozen along with the background. Now with plenty of time to breathe, she stood there and caught her breath.

A quick scan of the surroundings revealed it had been a trap. A camera hung high above in the rafters, and a position a few miles away revealed where someone could sit and watch. As soon as she arrived, he waited for her to move and then pounced. Damn, she figured, this guy was fast. He outpaced her quite easily.

She grabbed the electrical attacker and zoomed him outside, into the range of police gunmen. As soon as time returned to normal for him, he surrendered once he saw no chance to defeat twenty rifles pointed at him.

Upon returning to where the speedster lay, she had an idea.

The fast man found his body return to normal. The first thing he recognized was that the scenery had suddenly changed. The dark sky hovered above him. The would-be hero woman held him by the waist with her hands. This was absurd, where was he? He went to vibrate out of her grip.

“No,” she scolded him. “Look where you are. Look down.”

He looked down, and almost went catatonic. Miles of sky and the Earth stood below them. “What…WHAT THE…!” he shrieked.

“We’re in the upper stratosphere,” Jennifer stated. “At this altitude, you’d freeze to death in less than a second. The reason you don’t is me. Up here, you wouldn’t be able to breathe. Again, that’s me.” She grinned. “If I let go of you, you simply die.”

He shook his head. “No!” he begged. “Please don’t kill me!”

“I won’t kill you,” she explained, “if you give me all the answers I want.”

He began to laugh. “I’ll tell you everything,” he said. “It won’t do you much good.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because the Lord cannot be beaten,” the speedster explained. “Those who will not bend the knee to the Lord are the enemy. We knew a person who uses his powers and does not serve the Lord has loved ones that attend this place of worship. You might have stopped us from finding him out, but no matter. The Lord will prevail against him.”

She shook her head. “So, you buy into this ‘holy war’ crap?”

He shrugged. “It’s only ‘crap’ to you because you are seduced by evil,” he stated. “Besides, you know the cops aren’t going to be able to keep me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah, I get it.”

Another zap and he passed out. He woke up in police custody. Sure, she expected him to escape, but right now, she had other work to do. Religious cults in Asia were on the move. She flew down into Russia, where several people were held up in a church.

A scan of the building showed a group of forty Muslims surrounded by supers. Less than a heartbeat later, she exploded through the sealed doors, launching both brutes into the aisle, knocking down cultists like bowling pins. Shouts and shrieks reverberated through the ancient stone and wood structure. Amidst a crowd of Russian, she heard the word “Capacitor,” and a ball of lightning streaked past her head and exploded a hole in the front door wall. A huge sphere of ball lightning streaked straight for her. She held up her left forearm, and the electricity danced around her body until she pointed at a cultist standing over a family of Muslims. An enormous bolt streaked across the room and struck him dead on in the chest causing him to ricochet off the stone wall and land in a crumpled heap, moaning. She moved forward.

“Bitch!” the super shouted in Russian as he flung another enormous sphere of lightning at her, this one twice as large as the last.

She caught it in her right hand, and it vanished into her. A smile appeared on the super’s face. A pair of huge hands touched her shoulders.

After rocketing backward, she smashed through a series of vehicles and through the wall of an abandoned factory. A critical beam support stopped her ride, and the building collapsed on top of her. She blasted out of the rubble, flying upward, as the two brutes came down, fists extended towards her. An impact like missiles colliding jolted through her as she reached out to catch them and their fists smashed into her. A jerk of her arm released one of them midair, where her foot crashed into his enormous chest, hurtling him into the debris, which erupted like a grenade. She then threw the other slightly above her and clamped both hands on his huge head.

His scream pierced the air as she sent the stored lightning through his head. His body went limp, and careened downward, an eight-foot elephant-sized projectile that crashed through a wrecked car, leaving a sizeable crater. She saw he had a nasty concussion.

The assailants shouted at each other in Russian and one man gave a single command. The gunmen opened fire on the innocents…only there was no gunfire. One second, they had their fingers on the trigger, ready to go, and next, their guns could be seen outside, piled up. The woman stood in the line between the pews. They hadn’t seen anything move. The last super they had leapt across the room at her. A left-handed palm strike sent him into the wall. He chose not to get up.

The hired mercenaries decided to flee, leaving six remaining cultists to be led out as a group, tied with rope pilfered from a nearby hardware store.

After this endeavor, she flew over the middle east and dealt with several acts of sectarian violence, stopping rockets and other projectiles from hitting civilian targets.

She found a series of powered women travelling around Iran and freeing victims of trafficking from their hiding places. Wanting to avoid an international incident, she merely identified for them their targets, and then flew away.

As she returned to the hideout, she reflected on the ordeal that played out. A few moments later, Jericho arrived, a dark-haired younger man in a Depeche Mode t-shirt next to him. On the other side, stood a scholarly looking middle aged man.

“Who’s this?” she asked.

“The latest addition to our team,” he replied, gesturing at the man. “My brother, Luther.” He stood aside, pointing to his other compatriot. “This guy is going to help us out with the science of powers.”

“Hi,” Raymond said, “I’m Ray Weiss.”

“I just need to get the stuff,” Jericho said, disappearing and reappearing a few moments later. In the room stood a series of black plastic cases of varying sizes, and a huge box. “This all of it?”

“Looks like it,” Raymond replied. “You see, what I want to do is help us figure out whether or not we can outperform Jack Hurst, if we have a power that’s above his.”

Jennifer tilted her head. “What do you mean, ‘above his?’” she asked.

“That’s a funny story,” he explained. “Uh, Jericho? Why don’t you do your thing, and that way, she’ll understand.”

“Oh!” Jericho realized. “Right. Gotcha.” He touched her, and she got the memories of the conversation and of Raymond’s ordeal.

He spent the next fifteen minutes setting up the equipment. She stripped down to her undergarments, and he stuck small box-like objects to her torso, abdomen, and legs, with one on her forehead. “Pardon the mess,” Raymond apologized, “but you can’t exactly put these in midair like the last guy could with his forcefield.”

“It’s alright,” she lied.

“This should hopefully only take a few minutes.” Raymond tapped away at the computer.

“Didn’t you have a lab assistant?”

He looked up from the screen at her question. “Alan Jordan?” he asked. “No, he decided to go into hiding. I don’t blame him.”

At this point, Edward, Annie, and John came in from the other room. “Is there anything for us to do right now?” Annie asked.

Jericho turned to Jennifer. “What’s your idea?”

Jennifer gave his question serious thought. “I suspect my power is going to be crucial to the coming battle,” she explained. “You’ve already demonstrated that a person can have more than one ability, and so I think we should give my friends Ray’s enhanced intellect and have them think about characters before you give them my ability.” She turned to her friends. “How does that sound?”

“I mean,” Edward cut in, “it sounds fine, but how does your power work?”

“Honestly,” Jennifer stated, “Capacitor was my favorite character. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love all sorts of stuff, but, I dunno, something about it just clicked with me.” She gestured. “I mean, I’ve tried other characters, but honestly, I think once the power noticed I had a specific choice, it locked that in.”

Raymond stepped forward. “I think that’s interesting,” he mused.

“In what way?” Jennifer asked.

“Um, honestly,” he said, “I think what had to have happened is that your power ‘chose’ your transformed state based on what you emotionally decided was your favorite.” He looked at the billionaire. “It’s why I think Jericho couldn’t use it. He doesn’t have a favorite character.”

“Yeah,” the rich man said, rolling his eyes, “remind me of my personality issues again.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” John cut in, “you’ve made a hell of a change.”

“No,” Raymond added, “I don’t mean that. It’s that you don’t have a strong connection, emotionally speaking, to any fictional character. On the other hand, I think if we give my enhanced intelligence power to these guys, it’ll help them make a more informed emotional decision. That could tip the balance.”

Jericho motioned, and the three stood up. “Form a line,” he advised. “I’m going to give you a series of memories and the power in question, and you’ll have a day to think about it. Then, I’ll give you Jennifer’s power and you’ll make your decision. Make sense?”

“Hey, I’m down,” Annie said.

“We should probably go for variety,” Edward advised.

John looked over at him. “Oh,” he said, “It’s a bad idea to all have the same powerset? That’s what you meant, right?”

Raymond nodded. “I don’t know much about comics,” he admitted, “but that sounds like a bad idea.”

“Right!” John said. “Got it.”

“No problem,” Annie added.

Jennifer nodded. “Jericho,” she said, “I think we should keep track of Jack Hurst.”

“You’re right,” he stated. “We’ve got to keep a close eye on him.”

Just then his phone rang. He picked up. “Dave,” he said, “What do you have for me?”

Davis Wilson paused the video playing on his computer screen. “Get to New York,” he advised. “Jack Hurst and his monster are in Times Square and there’s a lot of people there.”

“Shit!” Jericho swore, clicking the conversation off.

Jennifer’s eyes lowered into a frustrated expression. “Let me guess,” she uttered.

He sighed. “You don’t have to.”