Leon pulled up at the curb and hopped out of the car, a beautifully restored silver '68 Corvette Stingray. It wasn't his, not yet, but he hoped to own
it outright someday. And in the meantime, his gearhead buddy was willing to let him drive it "to impress the lay-dees", as the man had put it. Leon
glanced at his watch, nodded, and tossed the keys to the approaching valet. The young man slid behind the wheel and pulled away smoothly, leaving Leon on the
sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. He watched the car move away, sighed wistfully, then straightened his shoulders and looked around.
Two towers soared high into the sky on either side of a plaza, here in an upscale district of Talos Island. It was the hottest new restaurant in town, and
further, it was located just across the plaza from the hottest nightclub in town. They were one and the same, in fact.
As a result, the plaza was populated with a swarm of people decked out in their finest, all waiting for their tables to become available or for space in the
club, separated from the road by a long red velvet rope and regularly spaced, tuxedo-wearing, unfailingly polite, and very large men. Uniformed hostesses
moved throughout, offering light refreshments and snacks, and a swing band was set up on a small podium providing live entertainment. A long red carpet ran up
the center of the walk, terminating at the fountain where the maitre'd stood, taking reservations, greeting patrons, and coordinating the staff with the
air of a conductor at a grand symphony. And all this was -before- one got inside the doors.
All in all, Leon reflected ruefully, it looked like two or three month's pay just to set foot in the place. He chuckled to himself.
"Hi Leon!"
Leon turned and blinked, startled. Nene Romanova and someone else stood a few feet away on the sidewalk. Leon whistled to himself. He'd known Nene was
cute, but now the redhead was stunning. And her companion no less so. He gathered his wits and stepped forward.
"Nene! You're beautiful!" He bowed, lightly, then turned to Nene's friend. "And I don't believe we've been properly
introduced yet. I'm Leon McNichol." He made a split-second decision to trust his instincts and offered a handshake, rather than a more formal
gesture. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Nene's impish grin and fought back the urge to match it with one of his own.
So the little mynx wanted to surprise him, did she? He wasn't worried. After her puzzling last statement at the range, he'd done a little poking
around and had a pretty good idea of what she was trying to do. He didn't mind. Even if nothing came of it, a date with two women at once? Girlfriends,
at that? Leon, he told himself with a mental grin, you are The MAN.
The woman accepted his hand gracefully, though he felt the faintest of tremors in her hand. Nene spoke.
"Leon, this is Ifrit Barnes." A pause. "My girlfriend."
"Lovely to meet you, miss Barnes," Leon replied without a pause, and grinned to himself at the momentary flicker of a frown that crossed Nene's
face.
"Please, call me Ifrit," she replied, smiling. Leon nodded. She looked past him then, at the milling throng, and winced. "I had no idea it
would be so crowded."
"Oh, that's okay, I'm sure Leon made reservations. Right, Leon?"
Leon smiled at Nene. "Nope."
Her eyes widened. "Whaaat?!"
"Well, I tried," Leon admitted, shrugging, "but they're booked up three months in advance."
Nene's face fell. "Oh." More subdued: "I didn't think of that."
"We could go somewhere else," Ifrit offered.
"Nonsense!" Leon turned and indicated the carpet. "We came all the way here, after all. No harm in trying, right?"
"I suppose not..."
Leon smiled and nodded. "So, you lovely ladies go on in and enjoy yourselves, while I go see what I can do about a table. All right?" As he spoke
he gently steered them past the ropes, nodding in passing at the bouncer, who favored him with a quick wink as the large man unclipped the rope to let them
pass. "I'll be right back," he promised.
"This is not going at all to plan," Nene groused under her breath as soon as Leon was out of earshot. Ifrit grinned at her.
"Oh, I don't know," she remarked. "You're just grumpy because he saw through your little trick." She leaned forward and tapped
Nene lightly on the nose. "Cheer up. If nothing else, we still got to go out and have fun tonight."
"Welll... okay," Nene said, mollified. She accepted a canape from a passing hostess and nibbled at it thoughtfully. "Hey... these are pretty
good."
Ifrit sampled one of her own, a dark square with a blob of bright orange and yellow on top, and agreed. They watched Leon amble up the carpet to the
maitre'd's station and engage the older, dignified gentleman in conversation. It was impossible to tell from this distance, but the posturing
suggested outrage. Nene filled in the conversation in her head.
"Non! Eeet is not possible, sir! Non! I can do nothing without a reservation! You see how busy we are! Impossible!"
Leon left the podium and came back their way. He stopped in front of them.
"Bad news, huh?" Nene said. She sighed. "I'm sorry, Leon, I should've thought about that in advance." She turned to Ifrit.
"Where else did you want to go? We still have time...."
Leon coughed. "If you'd really rather go somewhere else, we can," he began. "But it seems a shame to waste a table on the rooftop
terrace." He grinned. "Those are really hard to get, usually. Need to be reserved months in advance."
Ifrit laughed. Nene's eyes bugged out of her head. "How?" she gasped.
"I'm the soul of charm and wit," Leon replied piously. "The old guy didn't stand a chance." He leaned forward, one hand behind
his back, and proffered his arm. "May I have the honor of escorting you, miss Barnes?"
Ifrit laughed again and settled her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Delighted, Mr. McNichol." Leon offered his other arm to Nene, who took it
numbly. The trio moved up the carpetway, to the maitre'd, who beamed at them as though they were visiting dignitaries and ushered them past, where a
smiling hostess waited to guide them to their table.
"Close your mouth, hon. You'll catch a fly." Ifrit's voice was low and carried a laugh with it, but her eyes remained straight ahead.
Leon grinned as Nene's mouth snapped shut with an audible 'clop'.
"So spill it, Leon," Nene said a little while later, as they toyed with the last remnants of the third dessert course. "You did something to
get us in here. Did you bribe him?" She leaned forward a little, eyes glinting. "Did you -threaten- him?"
Leon smiled slyly as he looked at Nene. "Trade secret," he proclaimed piously. Nene pouted at him.
Ifrit giggled.
Whatever Nene was planning to say next was cut off by a flash of light that lit the area bright as noonday sun momentarily, and a sustained, percussive rumble
that shook their wine glasses. Belatedly, the sound of air-raid sirens reached their ears.
"Oh, look," said Nene, deliberately putting a bored tone on it as she peered at the area where the War Walls were supposed to be. "Rikti."
"Nice," Leon quipped. "Dinner and a show."
The waiters responded promptly and efficiently, escorting panicked guests inside where the building itself would hopefully protect them. Leon glanced at Nene
and Ifrit and waved off the waiter heading their way. "PPD!" he said over the din, waving his badge. "They're with me."
Ifrit turned to Nene and smiled. "See you at the party, dear," she said, and rose. Not to her feet, but into the air. Flame burst and flared
around her momentarily, and when Nene's eyes recovered Ifrit was wearing her usual heroing outfit, her butterfly wings waving gently from her back. She
nodded brightly at Leon, swept down to kiss Nene in passing, and dived over the edge of the terrace.
"... that's hot," Leon said. Nene chuckled and shook her head.
"You have -no- idea."
Leon rose and went to the edge, peering down with a thoughtful frown on his face. He nodded and turned to Nene. "Okay, I'm going down there.
I've got my gear in my car, I just need to get to it. You stay up here and --"
"Can it, Leon," Nene said, pushing him aside and swinging a leg over the railing, followed by the other. "I'm PPD too, and if you think
I'm sitting this one out, you're dumber than you look."
Leon scowled at her. "And how do you expect to get down there?"
"Same way as you, dummy," Nene replied, and fiddled with her watch. The standard-issue jump pack shimmered into view and she slipped into it easily.
"You don't think you're the only PPD officer with a hero license, do you?" She favored him with a smirk and pushed off the railing.
Leon watched Nene fall towards the ground below for only a moment before shaking his head and getting a move on. "Crazy, both of them," he said
aloud as he called up and slipped into his own jump pack. He hit the jets and scorched the tiles as the flames boosted him up and over the rail.
It was a long way to the ground, but it only took a very short time to fall; Leon hit the pack one last time and touched down hard, only ten feet or so from
where Nene was cursing under her breath and stomping out flames on the hem of her evening dress.
"A month's pay," she snarled, before giving up on the stubborn fire and ripping the lower portion away entirely, leaving her clad in the
equivalent of a very short miniskirt with a slit up the side. Leon noted that Nene had very nice legs -- and clamped his mouth firmly shut. "Not a word,
McNichol!" she snapped upon noticing his arrival.
"Wasn't going to say a thing, ma'am," Leon replied piously as he tried to keep his eyes where they belonged. "Car's this way,"
he added, jerking his head towards the garage. Overhead, Ifrit whirled and soared, raining fire down upon the startled Rikti troops. There were only a few so
far, but those foreboding portals were beginning to open up across the landscape and it would only be a matter of seconds, he knew, before more invaders
arrived. The crowd of civilians swarmed the entrances to the building, far too many present to actually make it inside, and Leon winced, imagining the
injuries that must be resulting from the panicked mob.
They rounded the corner into the garage at a dead run -- Leon noted with some indignation that Nene was not only faster than he was, she kept glancing over her
shoulder at him and slowing down so he could keep up -- and pounded across the asphalt to the valet booth. It was vacant. Nene didn't waste time with
anything so civilized as picking the lock; as Leon skidded to a halt behind her, she wound up and punched the glass window, which obligingly shattered into a
glittering cloud that scattered across the inside of the booth.
Leon raised an eyebrow, which Nene ignored. "Which car?" she demanded, as Leon leaned through the now-empty windowframe to retrieve the keys. He
scanned the pegboard frantically, finally finding them.
"Slot sixty!" he called back, snagging the keys and dashing off to join Nene, who already stood beside the sleek silver 'vette.
"You drive a Stingray?" Nene asked incredulously. Something about her tone caused him to glance sharply at her, but aside from what looked
suspiciously like laughter hiding behind her eyes, her face was composed.
"For now," he replied, sliding behind the wheel and keying the doorlocks as he started the engine. Nene slipped in on the passenger side.
"Hang on!" he barked, and floored it.
Despite the gravity of the situation, Nene couldn't help but chuckle to herself at the oddity of the universe. Universes? Whatever.
Of -course- Leon would be driving a Stingray. How else could it possibly be?
They roared up out of the garage, completely ignoring the "NO EXIT" signs liberally placed along the walls on their path, and burst out into the
street. Leon spun the wheel and slammed a downshift; the Corvette responded with a snarl of power and the chirp of tires on asphalt as it lunged forward.
Well, that's something, Nene remarked to herself. Local duplicate or not, he still drove like the Leon she remembered.
She didn't have time to think about it further; they rounded the corner to the side of the building where the ruckus was, and Leon braked to a halt. He
killed the engine and lunged out, swapping keys in frantic haste, looking for the right one. She kicked in enough speed to beat him to the trunk, trusting in
his distraction with the fight to keep him from noticing.
It wasn't that she was worried that much about protecting her 'secret identity' as Net Sabre, second-in-command of the Sabres of Paragon and the
most publicly visible member of the group; it was that she knew all too well what Leon's assignment entailed... and until she discovered who was behind it
and what they were after, she couldn't afford to let him find out.
Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Leon shrugged into his familiar leather jacket, which, Nene noted, hung much too heavily to be regular leather. He had shifted into cop mode, and with a
muttered, "Stay here, behind the car," he jogged across the street to a better vantage point, where he joined in the growing fracas with well-placed
shots.
Which weren't doing a damn thing, Nene observed, and sighed. Leon was no dummy. If she vanished from the scene and Net Sabre showed up, he could hardly
fail to put two and two together and get four.
She poked through the trunk, not expecting to find anything. The first thing she came across was a large, imposing revolver; remembering the monster that
-her- Leon had carried, she wondered if it was a coincidence or if a liking for big guns was just part and parcel of any man named Leon McNichol.
The gun had room for, and was loaded with, five rounds. She didn't suppose five rounds would do much good, and moved on. Outside the battle raged.
Heroes were swarming the area, protecting civilians as they scurried to find cover and engaging Rikti forces head-to-head on the ground and in the skies over
Talos Island. Nene eyed the fight, ran the odds, and came back with an answer she didn't much like.
There were simply too many Rikti, and as fast as they were going down, more were showing up. Even as she watched, another wave poured through the open portals
by the Rikti communications officers, and her eyes narrowed.
Well, now, that's new, she thought. They're screening them. And it was true. The forward elements were holding their positions, acting as a shield
for the communications officers, who were bringing more Rikti to the battlefield as fast as they could.
Faster than the defense forces could keep up with. Nene fiddled with her watch, bringing up a datalink to the PPD city monitor, and groaned. City zones were
red all over; current orders were to hold out while Vanguard tried to coordinate hero activity. Which didn't seem to be going all that well. Nene, from
her spot 'in the field', could see why. Heroes were tackling Rikti wherever they spotted them... but the Rikti were teleporting reinforcements in at
every hotspot. The net result was that the heroes were getting isolated and overwhelmed, one small group at a time.
Nene scowled and was about to say 'fuck it' on the whole secret identity thing when an idea came to her. She reached into the trunk and retrieved the
screwdriver and Leatherman multitool from beside the spare tire, then raised her eyes to where the knot of Rikti portals was just disgorging another set of
troops.
Her eyes narrowed and she smiled.
"Ifrit, hon, how much do you love me?"
Ifrit blinked as her lover's voice came over the Riot frequency. She hurled a firebolt into a mass of Rikti and responded, "Tons!"
"Do you love me enough to tackle an insane PPD officer for me?"
Ifrit paused in calling down more fire long enough to raise an eyebrow. "... well, sure," she said dubiously, "but what will it do to my
reputation?"
"You're dating -me-," Nene replied pragmatically. "What reputation?"
Abandoning that line of banter, Ifrit flash-fried a squad of Rikti monkeys -- they looked like fire imps, dancing and screeching as the flames licked playfully
at them -- and instead asked: "Who would this insane cop be, and why do I think you'll be the cause of it?"
"It's Leon, of course," Nene replied, the sound of an engine starting in the background almost drowning her out. "And it's because
I'm about to destroy, at a guess, about five years of his pay."
Ifrit whirled in midair, ignoring the plasma bolts flying around her as the Rikti tried to bring her and the other flying heroes down, and her eyes went wide
in shock.
Leon scowled as he swapped out yet another magazine and began to unload it. So far the Rikti hadn't noticed him -- much -- but neither had he put a
significant dent in their forces. Hell, for all the good he was doing, he might as well have been throwing spitwads.
The sudden roar of a turbocharged engine redlining snapped his head around. He gaped in horror at the sight that met his eyes: Nene, clutching the wheel of
the borrowed Stingray with grim determination, leaving twin streaks on the asphalt as the tires hurled clouds of smoke skyward and the car began to -move-.
She shifted clumsily, but the finely-tuned machine took it, lurching only once before the tires chirped again and the whole thing lunged forward.
Straight towards the Rikti.
As Nene accelerated, her concentration was split; on one side, she was trying and mostly succeeding in remembering how to drive -- never mind that she'd
never learned stick and had to guess at what to do, or that the gas pedal was stuck to the floor by the Leatherman's blade. On the other side of her
consciousness, she was making use of an ability that she'd recently discovered was only -amplified- by her suit. Moment by moment, as she concentrated so
hard that sweat was breaking out on her brow, she was increasing the density of the machine that she rode in, hurtling down the street towards certain doom.
As the Corvette crested the curb -- instead of bouncing, it plowed -through- the concrete -- she used every ounce of her enhanced strength to ram the
screwdriver through the steering column, locking the car on course. Straight at the gathered knot of communications officers and portals still spewing more
Rikti troops.
Then, grateful for once that she was shorter than the average Sabre, she hurled herself head-first out the open window, and braced for impact.
"Request: I need that incident report on my desk by noon, Detective," HE-AT said, not unkindly but firmly.
Leon acknowledged the order listlessly, waving a hand in what he hoped she would translate as a "Sure, okay, I'll get it done," gesture, not
raising his head from where it rested on his arm, face-down on his desk.
He sighed. It had been a hell of an explosion, he had to admit. But the CAR! He'd deflected his pal once already, hinting broadly that he was a little
busy, could he get the car back to him later? But that wouldn't last, not long enough.
Oh, for cryin' out loud, it'll NEVER be long enough, McNichol! he told himself angrily. She TOTALED it!
His computer chimed at him. He raised his head and regarded it blearily.
"... the hell?" he said in complete bafflement a moment later. What in the world was a NEN-E-Mail, and why was it waving a cartoony arm at him from
his terminal screen? He contemplated it for a moment, then shrugged and whacked the 'Acknowledge' button.
"HIIIIII LEEEON-POOOH!" said an all-too-familiar voice. Leon physically recoiled from the screen with a startled curse as Nene's face popped
into view. "I just wanted to let you know that Ifrit and I had a -wonderful- time last night! Thanks for everything, it was a real -blast-!"
Leon growled and hit the 'Delete' button. It had entirely no effect, he noted.
"I wanted to tell you last night, but we got interrupted," Nene's video email went on in a slightly less perky tone. "I've been
promoted and we'll be seeing a LOT more of each other." She leaned forward into the camera, her voice taking on a sultry tone. "A -lot-
more." She sat back and winked. "Bye-bye!"
The image froze on her waving her fingers at him with a huge grin on her face, then crumpled itself into a wadded-up photo, which burst into flame and exploded
into a heart-shaped cloud of smoke before vanishing entirely.
Next up: Sabres, Scimitars, and spycraft, oh my!
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
it outright someday. And in the meantime, his gearhead buddy was willing to let him drive it "to impress the lay-dees", as the man had put it. Leon
glanced at his watch, nodded, and tossed the keys to the approaching valet. The young man slid behind the wheel and pulled away smoothly, leaving Leon on the
sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. He watched the car move away, sighed wistfully, then straightened his shoulders and looked around.
Two towers soared high into the sky on either side of a plaza, here in an upscale district of Talos Island. It was the hottest new restaurant in town, and
further, it was located just across the plaza from the hottest nightclub in town. They were one and the same, in fact.
As a result, the plaza was populated with a swarm of people decked out in their finest, all waiting for their tables to become available or for space in the
club, separated from the road by a long red velvet rope and regularly spaced, tuxedo-wearing, unfailingly polite, and very large men. Uniformed hostesses
moved throughout, offering light refreshments and snacks, and a swing band was set up on a small podium providing live entertainment. A long red carpet ran up
the center of the walk, terminating at the fountain where the maitre'd stood, taking reservations, greeting patrons, and coordinating the staff with the
air of a conductor at a grand symphony. And all this was -before- one got inside the doors.
All in all, Leon reflected ruefully, it looked like two or three month's pay just to set foot in the place. He chuckled to himself.
"Hi Leon!"
Leon turned and blinked, startled. Nene Romanova and someone else stood a few feet away on the sidewalk. Leon whistled to himself. He'd known Nene was
cute, but now the redhead was stunning. And her companion no less so. He gathered his wits and stepped forward.
"Nene! You're beautiful!" He bowed, lightly, then turned to Nene's friend. "And I don't believe we've been properly
introduced yet. I'm Leon McNichol." He made a split-second decision to trust his instincts and offered a handshake, rather than a more formal
gesture. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Nene's impish grin and fought back the urge to match it with one of his own.
So the little mynx wanted to surprise him, did she? He wasn't worried. After her puzzling last statement at the range, he'd done a little poking
around and had a pretty good idea of what she was trying to do. He didn't mind. Even if nothing came of it, a date with two women at once? Girlfriends,
at that? Leon, he told himself with a mental grin, you are The MAN.
The woman accepted his hand gracefully, though he felt the faintest of tremors in her hand. Nene spoke.
"Leon, this is Ifrit Barnes." A pause. "My girlfriend."
"Lovely to meet you, miss Barnes," Leon replied without a pause, and grinned to himself at the momentary flicker of a frown that crossed Nene's
face.
"Please, call me Ifrit," she replied, smiling. Leon nodded. She looked past him then, at the milling throng, and winced. "I had no idea it
would be so crowded."
"Oh, that's okay, I'm sure Leon made reservations. Right, Leon?"
Leon smiled at Nene. "Nope."
Her eyes widened. "Whaaat?!"
"Well, I tried," Leon admitted, shrugging, "but they're booked up three months in advance."
Nene's face fell. "Oh." More subdued: "I didn't think of that."
"We could go somewhere else," Ifrit offered.
"Nonsense!" Leon turned and indicated the carpet. "We came all the way here, after all. No harm in trying, right?"
"I suppose not..."
Leon smiled and nodded. "So, you lovely ladies go on in and enjoy yourselves, while I go see what I can do about a table. All right?" As he spoke
he gently steered them past the ropes, nodding in passing at the bouncer, who favored him with a quick wink as the large man unclipped the rope to let them
pass. "I'll be right back," he promised.
"This is not going at all to plan," Nene groused under her breath as soon as Leon was out of earshot. Ifrit grinned at her.
"Oh, I don't know," she remarked. "You're just grumpy because he saw through your little trick." She leaned forward and tapped
Nene lightly on the nose. "Cheer up. If nothing else, we still got to go out and have fun tonight."
"Welll... okay," Nene said, mollified. She accepted a canape from a passing hostess and nibbled at it thoughtfully. "Hey... these are pretty
good."
Ifrit sampled one of her own, a dark square with a blob of bright orange and yellow on top, and agreed. They watched Leon amble up the carpet to the
maitre'd's station and engage the older, dignified gentleman in conversation. It was impossible to tell from this distance, but the posturing
suggested outrage. Nene filled in the conversation in her head.
"Non! Eeet is not possible, sir! Non! I can do nothing without a reservation! You see how busy we are! Impossible!"
Leon left the podium and came back their way. He stopped in front of them.
"Bad news, huh?" Nene said. She sighed. "I'm sorry, Leon, I should've thought about that in advance." She turned to Ifrit.
"Where else did you want to go? We still have time...."
Leon coughed. "If you'd really rather go somewhere else, we can," he began. "But it seems a shame to waste a table on the rooftop
terrace." He grinned. "Those are really hard to get, usually. Need to be reserved months in advance."
Ifrit laughed. Nene's eyes bugged out of her head. "How?" she gasped.
"I'm the soul of charm and wit," Leon replied piously. "The old guy didn't stand a chance." He leaned forward, one hand behind
his back, and proffered his arm. "May I have the honor of escorting you, miss Barnes?"
Ifrit laughed again and settled her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Delighted, Mr. McNichol." Leon offered his other arm to Nene, who took it
numbly. The trio moved up the carpetway, to the maitre'd, who beamed at them as though they were visiting dignitaries and ushered them past, where a
smiling hostess waited to guide them to their table.
"Close your mouth, hon. You'll catch a fly." Ifrit's voice was low and carried a laugh with it, but her eyes remained straight ahead.
Leon grinned as Nene's mouth snapped shut with an audible 'clop'.
"So spill it, Leon," Nene said a little while later, as they toyed with the last remnants of the third dessert course. "You did something to
get us in here. Did you bribe him?" She leaned forward a little, eyes glinting. "Did you -threaten- him?"
Leon smiled slyly as he looked at Nene. "Trade secret," he proclaimed piously. Nene pouted at him.
Ifrit giggled.
Whatever Nene was planning to say next was cut off by a flash of light that lit the area bright as noonday sun momentarily, and a sustained, percussive rumble
that shook their wine glasses. Belatedly, the sound of air-raid sirens reached their ears.
"Oh, look," said Nene, deliberately putting a bored tone on it as she peered at the area where the War Walls were supposed to be. "Rikti."
"Nice," Leon quipped. "Dinner and a show."
The waiters responded promptly and efficiently, escorting panicked guests inside where the building itself would hopefully protect them. Leon glanced at Nene
and Ifrit and waved off the waiter heading their way. "PPD!" he said over the din, waving his badge. "They're with me."
Ifrit turned to Nene and smiled. "See you at the party, dear," she said, and rose. Not to her feet, but into the air. Flame burst and flared
around her momentarily, and when Nene's eyes recovered Ifrit was wearing her usual heroing outfit, her butterfly wings waving gently from her back. She
nodded brightly at Leon, swept down to kiss Nene in passing, and dived over the edge of the terrace.
"... that's hot," Leon said. Nene chuckled and shook her head.
"You have -no- idea."
Leon rose and went to the edge, peering down with a thoughtful frown on his face. He nodded and turned to Nene. "Okay, I'm going down there.
I've got my gear in my car, I just need to get to it. You stay up here and --"
"Can it, Leon," Nene said, pushing him aside and swinging a leg over the railing, followed by the other. "I'm PPD too, and if you think
I'm sitting this one out, you're dumber than you look."
Leon scowled at her. "And how do you expect to get down there?"
"Same way as you, dummy," Nene replied, and fiddled with her watch. The standard-issue jump pack shimmered into view and she slipped into it easily.
"You don't think you're the only PPD officer with a hero license, do you?" She favored him with a smirk and pushed off the railing.
Leon watched Nene fall towards the ground below for only a moment before shaking his head and getting a move on. "Crazy, both of them," he said
aloud as he called up and slipped into his own jump pack. He hit the jets and scorched the tiles as the flames boosted him up and over the rail.
It was a long way to the ground, but it only took a very short time to fall; Leon hit the pack one last time and touched down hard, only ten feet or so from
where Nene was cursing under her breath and stomping out flames on the hem of her evening dress.
"A month's pay," she snarled, before giving up on the stubborn fire and ripping the lower portion away entirely, leaving her clad in the
equivalent of a very short miniskirt with a slit up the side. Leon noted that Nene had very nice legs -- and clamped his mouth firmly shut. "Not a word,
McNichol!" she snapped upon noticing his arrival.
"Wasn't going to say a thing, ma'am," Leon replied piously as he tried to keep his eyes where they belonged. "Car's this way,"
he added, jerking his head towards the garage. Overhead, Ifrit whirled and soared, raining fire down upon the startled Rikti troops. There were only a few so
far, but those foreboding portals were beginning to open up across the landscape and it would only be a matter of seconds, he knew, before more invaders
arrived. The crowd of civilians swarmed the entrances to the building, far too many present to actually make it inside, and Leon winced, imagining the
injuries that must be resulting from the panicked mob.
They rounded the corner into the garage at a dead run -- Leon noted with some indignation that Nene was not only faster than he was, she kept glancing over her
shoulder at him and slowing down so he could keep up -- and pounded across the asphalt to the valet booth. It was vacant. Nene didn't waste time with
anything so civilized as picking the lock; as Leon skidded to a halt behind her, she wound up and punched the glass window, which obligingly shattered into a
glittering cloud that scattered across the inside of the booth.
Leon raised an eyebrow, which Nene ignored. "Which car?" she demanded, as Leon leaned through the now-empty windowframe to retrieve the keys. He
scanned the pegboard frantically, finally finding them.
"Slot sixty!" he called back, snagging the keys and dashing off to join Nene, who already stood beside the sleek silver 'vette.
"You drive a Stingray?" Nene asked incredulously. Something about her tone caused him to glance sharply at her, but aside from what looked
suspiciously like laughter hiding behind her eyes, her face was composed.
"For now," he replied, sliding behind the wheel and keying the doorlocks as he started the engine. Nene slipped in on the passenger side.
"Hang on!" he barked, and floored it.
Despite the gravity of the situation, Nene couldn't help but chuckle to herself at the oddity of the universe. Universes? Whatever.
Of -course- Leon would be driving a Stingray. How else could it possibly be?
They roared up out of the garage, completely ignoring the "NO EXIT" signs liberally placed along the walls on their path, and burst out into the
street. Leon spun the wheel and slammed a downshift; the Corvette responded with a snarl of power and the chirp of tires on asphalt as it lunged forward.
Well, that's something, Nene remarked to herself. Local duplicate or not, he still drove like the Leon she remembered.
She didn't have time to think about it further; they rounded the corner to the side of the building where the ruckus was, and Leon braked to a halt. He
killed the engine and lunged out, swapping keys in frantic haste, looking for the right one. She kicked in enough speed to beat him to the trunk, trusting in
his distraction with the fight to keep him from noticing.
It wasn't that she was worried that much about protecting her 'secret identity' as Net Sabre, second-in-command of the Sabres of Paragon and the
most publicly visible member of the group; it was that she knew all too well what Leon's assignment entailed... and until she discovered who was behind it
and what they were after, she couldn't afford to let him find out.
Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Leon shrugged into his familiar leather jacket, which, Nene noted, hung much too heavily to be regular leather. He had shifted into cop mode, and with a
muttered, "Stay here, behind the car," he jogged across the street to a better vantage point, where he joined in the growing fracas with well-placed
shots.
Which weren't doing a damn thing, Nene observed, and sighed. Leon was no dummy. If she vanished from the scene and Net Sabre showed up, he could hardly
fail to put two and two together and get four.
She poked through the trunk, not expecting to find anything. The first thing she came across was a large, imposing revolver; remembering the monster that
-her- Leon had carried, she wondered if it was a coincidence or if a liking for big guns was just part and parcel of any man named Leon McNichol.
The gun had room for, and was loaded with, five rounds. She didn't suppose five rounds would do much good, and moved on. Outside the battle raged.
Heroes were swarming the area, protecting civilians as they scurried to find cover and engaging Rikti forces head-to-head on the ground and in the skies over
Talos Island. Nene eyed the fight, ran the odds, and came back with an answer she didn't much like.
There were simply too many Rikti, and as fast as they were going down, more were showing up. Even as she watched, another wave poured through the open portals
by the Rikti communications officers, and her eyes narrowed.
Well, now, that's new, she thought. They're screening them. And it was true. The forward elements were holding their positions, acting as a shield
for the communications officers, who were bringing more Rikti to the battlefield as fast as they could.
Faster than the defense forces could keep up with. Nene fiddled with her watch, bringing up a datalink to the PPD city monitor, and groaned. City zones were
red all over; current orders were to hold out while Vanguard tried to coordinate hero activity. Which didn't seem to be going all that well. Nene, from
her spot 'in the field', could see why. Heroes were tackling Rikti wherever they spotted them... but the Rikti were teleporting reinforcements in at
every hotspot. The net result was that the heroes were getting isolated and overwhelmed, one small group at a time.
Nene scowled and was about to say 'fuck it' on the whole secret identity thing when an idea came to her. She reached into the trunk and retrieved the
screwdriver and Leatherman multitool from beside the spare tire, then raised her eyes to where the knot of Rikti portals was just disgorging another set of
troops.
Her eyes narrowed and she smiled.
"Ifrit, hon, how much do you love me?"
Ifrit blinked as her lover's voice came over the Riot frequency. She hurled a firebolt into a mass of Rikti and responded, "Tons!"
"Do you love me enough to tackle an insane PPD officer for me?"
Ifrit paused in calling down more fire long enough to raise an eyebrow. "... well, sure," she said dubiously, "but what will it do to my
reputation?"
"You're dating -me-," Nene replied pragmatically. "What reputation?"
Abandoning that line of banter, Ifrit flash-fried a squad of Rikti monkeys -- they looked like fire imps, dancing and screeching as the flames licked playfully
at them -- and instead asked: "Who would this insane cop be, and why do I think you'll be the cause of it?"
"It's Leon, of course," Nene replied, the sound of an engine starting in the background almost drowning her out. "And it's because
I'm about to destroy, at a guess, about five years of his pay."
Ifrit whirled in midair, ignoring the plasma bolts flying around her as the Rikti tried to bring her and the other flying heroes down, and her eyes went wide
in shock.
Leon scowled as he swapped out yet another magazine and began to unload it. So far the Rikti hadn't noticed him -- much -- but neither had he put a
significant dent in their forces. Hell, for all the good he was doing, he might as well have been throwing spitwads.
The sudden roar of a turbocharged engine redlining snapped his head around. He gaped in horror at the sight that met his eyes: Nene, clutching the wheel of
the borrowed Stingray with grim determination, leaving twin streaks on the asphalt as the tires hurled clouds of smoke skyward and the car began to -move-.
She shifted clumsily, but the finely-tuned machine took it, lurching only once before the tires chirped again and the whole thing lunged forward.
Straight towards the Rikti.
As Nene accelerated, her concentration was split; on one side, she was trying and mostly succeeding in remembering how to drive -- never mind that she'd
never learned stick and had to guess at what to do, or that the gas pedal was stuck to the floor by the Leatherman's blade. On the other side of her
consciousness, she was making use of an ability that she'd recently discovered was only -amplified- by her suit. Moment by moment, as she concentrated so
hard that sweat was breaking out on her brow, she was increasing the density of the machine that she rode in, hurtling down the street towards certain doom.
As the Corvette crested the curb -- instead of bouncing, it plowed -through- the concrete -- she used every ounce of her enhanced strength to ram the
screwdriver through the steering column, locking the car on course. Straight at the gathered knot of communications officers and portals still spewing more
Rikti troops.
Then, grateful for once that she was shorter than the average Sabre, she hurled herself head-first out the open window, and braced for impact.
"Request: I need that incident report on my desk by noon, Detective," HE-AT said, not unkindly but firmly.
Leon acknowledged the order listlessly, waving a hand in what he hoped she would translate as a "Sure, okay, I'll get it done," gesture, not
raising his head from where it rested on his arm, face-down on his desk.
He sighed. It had been a hell of an explosion, he had to admit. But the CAR! He'd deflected his pal once already, hinting broadly that he was a little
busy, could he get the car back to him later? But that wouldn't last, not long enough.
Oh, for cryin' out loud, it'll NEVER be long enough, McNichol! he told himself angrily. She TOTALED it!
His computer chimed at him. He raised his head and regarded it blearily.
"... the hell?" he said in complete bafflement a moment later. What in the world was a NEN-E-Mail, and why was it waving a cartoony arm at him from
his terminal screen? He contemplated it for a moment, then shrugged and whacked the 'Acknowledge' button.
"HIIIIII LEEEON-POOOH!" said an all-too-familiar voice. Leon physically recoiled from the screen with a startled curse as Nene's face popped
into view. "I just wanted to let you know that Ifrit and I had a -wonderful- time last night! Thanks for everything, it was a real -blast-!"
Leon growled and hit the 'Delete' button. It had entirely no effect, he noted.
"I wanted to tell you last night, but we got interrupted," Nene's video email went on in a slightly less perky tone. "I've been
promoted and we'll be seeing a LOT more of each other." She leaned forward into the camera, her voice taking on a sultry tone. "A -lot-
more." She sat back and winked. "Bye-bye!"
The image froze on her waving her fingers at him with a huge grin on her face, then crumpled itself into a wadded-up photo, which burst into flame and exploded
into a heart-shaped cloud of smoke before vanishing entirely.
Next up: Sabres, Scimitars, and spycraft, oh my!
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs