Points of Intersection - part 5: Convergent Series
by Direwolf & Glitch Girl

Conference Room 2, Freedom Fortress, 2004

"I wish you'd stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Volt asked distractedly.

"Pacing," said Interceptor.

The electric hero grunted a response and continued to stride back and forth across the floor as a small crackle of energy swam unheeded though his hair.

"Oh come on, man. Just sit down!" grumbled Interceptor. Every hair on his body was starting to stand on end from the static electricity flying around the room, and the smell of ozone was starting to make his nose itch.

Volt stopped moving for a moment, then begrudgingly flopped himself down on the nearest chair. "You'd think they'd at least tell us something," he muttered.

"I know."

"She is OUR teammate."

"Yup."

"I mean it's not like we haven't saved the world before or anything."

"Mm-hm."

"Why did Minuteman insist we talk with Mentor? He hardly asked us anything."

"Dunno."

"And what's with the time portal?"

"No idea."

Volt gave a frustrated sigh and stared at the wall. Next to him, Interceptor traced thin fiery patterns in the air with his finger to pass the time.

After a moment or two of oppressive silence Volt asked "How long have they kept us waiting?"

"A while," said Interceptor.

"I hate this."

"Mm-hm."

"I mean, how long-"

As ifs to answer the unfinished question, the door to the conference room opened and the two heroes looked up to see a very large, very imposing man looming in the doorway.

Volt and Interceptor recognized him instantly. They had met him before only briefly, but Direwolf was one of those people that were very hard to forget.

For one thing, this was a man who was very good at looming. He loomed like a professional, having had forty years with which to refine his looming technique to the point of looming perfection, a handy skill to have in his line of work. In reality, he didn't intend to loom constantly, but by now it was so second nature that it took conscious thought NOT to loom.

He was also, for lack of a better term, Glitch Girl's "sponsor". It was no secret among Electric Freedom that the dark vigilante had been the one to train her as a crime fighter that eventually lead her to join their team. The two were close, which was why it was surprising he didn't seem more upset about the current situation.

Unless he didn't know yet, in which case, there was a small chance he might blame them for his personal protegee's disappearance and decide to rip their arms off. Rumor was that he'd done that sort of thing before,

He gave them a brief nod as he entered and sat himself down at the round conference table. Then he turned to them and asked in a calm, unconcerned voice, "So when did it happen?"

Guess he does know about it, thought Volt. So why doesn't he seem worried?

"Yesterday, about one o'clock," Interceptor answered for them.

Direwolf nodded thoughtfully, apparently making a mental note of the day and time.

"Is there something IMPORTANT about that that we should know?" snapped Volt. "We only just happen to be on the same TEAM with her!"

Direwolf striped off one of his gloves and reached back to massage his own neck. Volt realized that behind his calm exterior, Direwolf was in fact taking the situation seriously, a small fact that made the electrically charged hero fell somewhat better, though not much.

"Yes, it is important and yes, you both should know what's going on. But it's complex and very weird," Direwolf said. "And I do mean really weird, ever for people like us who routinely deal with things like killer robots, alien invaders and megalomaniacs bent on world conquest... "

Before Direwolf could continue, the door opened again. Volt and Interceptor reflexively jumped to their feet as MinuteMan strode purposefully into the room, his silvery staff, Patriot in hand. He gave a small nod of acknowledgement to the two members of Electric Freedom and said "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long, but I needed to be sure the rest of our guests arrived."

He stepped aside and allowed a second "guest" to enter.

"Interceptor..." Volt whispered under his breath.

"I know," his fiery friend murmured back. It wasn't often they were in the presence of royalty, namely the alien known as Mentor, now the ruler of the Domain.

Direwolf slid smoothly from the table and met MinuteMan halfway to the door. The two shook hands in a firm double grip of old friends.

"Direwolf, good to see you!" MinuteMan exclaimed. "It's been far too long."

Direwolf nodded and smiled." Since Kraken decided to steal the Tower Bridge in London, in fact. Good thing you, Iron Ox, and Bullet were on hand or he would have pounded my back side good. So, I take it the circle is about to complete?"

"It would seem that way," Minuteman replied, though there was a note of uncertainty in his voice. "Please, have a seat, all of you."

The three men joined Volt and Interceptor by the dark wood table.

Minuteman set his titanium staff aside, then folded his hands solemnly on the table. "Unfortunately, it seems there's been an unforeseen problem," he said, directing his comments at Direwolf.

Direwolf's eyes narrowed and any good humor he had drained away. "What KIND of problem?" he asked coldly as he leaned forward.

"Before we go into that," Mentor cut in diplomatically, "I believe we owe Glitch Girl's teammates an explanation first."

There was the briefest pause as the three veteran heroes glanced at the duo still patiently waiting for an explanation. Then both Direwolf and Minuteman nodded in agreement.

Minuteman spoke first.

"Gentlemen," he said, "This is a bit complicated..."

Now...

Three days had passed since Direwolf dropped Glitch Girl off at the Freedom Fortress. Since City University was in the middle of the spring break, Jason had dedicated his time to looking for leads on Captain Kraken rather then working on his master's thesis. It was hard to concentrate on the morphology of Precambrian metamorphic strata when he kept wondering why Kraken wanted a sub capable of launching nuclear missiles. And right now, the only leads he had to go on where a few tenuous theories. Kraken was very good at hiding his tracks.

That was what brought Jason to a water front bar called the Blue Whale tonight.

Jason maneuvered his motorcycle through the streamers of fog creeping in from the East River. The bike was a heavily modified 1952 Vincent Shadow. Among the other improvements that Skip and Devon had made to the machine, it was coated with an electrostatic paint that allowed it to shift from the glossy black of Direwolf's much photographed bike to a dull primer gray that was far less noticeable. In addition, Jason wasn't wearing his Direwolf costume. Instead he had on worn pea coat, oil stained blue jeans, flannel shirt and knit cap, the unofficial uniform of the dockworkers along the eastern seaboard. He'd avoided shaving to further change his appearance.

"Not like it's a fake beard or anything," he muttered as he parked the bike in an alleyway across from the Blue Whale.

The dockside bar crouched like an exhausted animal beside Pier 16, the site of the final clash between Captain Kraken and Freedom Force. It was amazing the old building had survived both that battle and Kraken's escape. It had to be sturdier then it looked.

Jason pulled his hat down to just above his eyes, jammed his hands deep into the pockets of the worn woolen jacket and crossed the empty street. The tavern door opened with a squeal of protesting hinges, emitting a wave of stale smoke and the murmur of hushed conversation along with the scent of cheep beer. Jason figured the noisy hinges were intentional; it made it clear that someone was coming in.

The buzz of conversation died as every eye in the place swung towards the door. Jason slouched in, pointedly ignoring the guarded stares as he walked towards the bar. He figured he must have passed inspection since the conversations resumed.

"Beer," Jason said to he bartender, dropping a quarter on the bar.

A mug arrived and he sipped the sour beer it while he listened to everything going on around him. His enhanced hearing allowed him to tune into conversations one at a time, looking for one in particular.

"...ship in Tuesday is looking for hands..."

"...Forman is such a jerk..."

"...I'm telling you, we can lift a box from each pallet..."

"...the Dodgers don't stand a chance..."

"...in your dreams! Not near as good as Spilane..."

"...says he got quite a bundle from that weirdo with the two silver guns..."

Jason focused.

"...that's him, in the north corner with the bottle all by himself. Looks like Crazy Harold might have made a score. Bet we can role him on the way out..."

Jason took his beer and started towards a dark table near the back of the bar. There, a man sat hunched over a whisky bottle muttering to himself.

"You Harold?" Jason asked, settling into an empty chair.

Blood shot eyes regarded him from below a mat of tangled brown hair. "Who wants to know?"

"Just another wharf rat. Heard you made some cash selling a story and wanted to see if maybe I could sell my own to who ever bought yours."

"Haa, I doubt that, boy." The old man took a long swallow of whisky. He seemed surprised when Jason didn't leave. "Mine was a special tale."

"Mid sharing it seeing as you already sold it?"

Harold shrugged, "Why the hell not? Already got paid. Just need to wet my whistle."

There was a long pause while Harold downed more whisky.

"Ten years ago, the winter of fifty three, I was diesel mechanic in the US Navy, submarine service. That was when the Navy was changing, getting rid of diesel boats as fast as they could and going nuclear. But the Sculpin, she was still a diesel boat running out Charleston. In December we got orders to test a new weapons system, a new kind of torpedo."

He drank again. "Cold war was good and hot about then. A couple of big time Navy brass came on to brief the skipper while they were loading a pair of funny looking torpedoes. And two guys that just about had ‘spook' written on their foreheads came on board with a big box that said DOE, as in Department of Energy. The spooks stayed and we got under way. Six miles out, we stopped and spent two days getting ready to fire.

"Scuttlebutt was running hot on what this cloak-and-dagger stuff was all about. DOE plus Navy plus CIA meant one thing, nukes.

"The first test went as planned. Boat dove, went down about fifty fathoms and then tilted up at a thirty-degree angle. I was in the engineer room so all I know is what I heard. The fish swam, then it flew."

"That means..." Jason said.

Howard nodded. "Yup, forerunner to the Polaris missile. A sea launched torpedo that broke the surface, and triggered a rocket engine. Hell of a way to sneak in a warhead."

Howard knocked back another belt. "After that, things get a mite confused. By the radio chatter, I figured out the CIA guys took something out of the box and fitted it in the other fish. Then something bad happened. There were shots fired and I think the captain was killed. The Sculpin went down. A few of us made it to the life pods but not many. The Navy picked us up, then denied the event ever took place. We were all shuffled off and drummed out as soon as we could. As far as I know, the Sculpin just sort of vanished off the lists of ships, taking a lot of men with her."

"Wow. So, the guy who paid you for this story, what did he look like?"

"Tall guy with stone cold eyes, what used to be called gun fighter's eyes if you know what I mean. Weird clothing and he had a pair of chromed .45's."

"Thanks, that's what I needed to know." Jason started to stand up.

"No, there's one other thing I told him and I don't think I should have." Howard grabbed Jason's write in a shaky grip. "When they pulled me out of the life pod, I was nearly out of my head but I head one of the guy's who rescued me say, ‘check him for rads'. They wouldn't have said that unless there had been a live warhead on board. Before they drummed me out, I got a look at my file and snuck out a page that documented when I was rescued. No mention of the Sculpin, but it showed the latitude and longitude where I was found."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"So you can make it right. I knew telling him was a mistake but I wanted the money to keep drinking. But I wish I hadn't. You'll make it ok, won't you...please?" He took a much-folded piece of age-yellowed paper from his coat pocket and dropped it on the worn table.

Jason saw the deep desperation in the man's eyes and a fear that haunted him, filling him with torment. He took the paper. "I'll do what I can."

The ghost of a smile crossed Howard's lips. "That's all I ask. Safe voyage to you, lad."

Jason nodded and stood up, heading for the door. On the way, he spotted the three human predators who were planning on robbing the old man. There was no way Jason could just walk out.

He paused by the table and leaned down and whispered, "If you know what's good for you, you will leave him alone."

All three stared at him. The largest of the three, a big, black haired man with sea monsters tattooed on his forearms, took exception to Jason's advice. With out warning, he smashed a beer glass into the side of Jason's head. Glass shattered. Jason staggered back while the three men stood up, pulled knives and closed on him. The rest of the bar patrons watched.

"Fifty cents says they gut him in a minute," the bar tender said to a nearby patron.

The blow had surprised Jason. There was enough hostility in the bar that his danger sense had missed the sudden, specific threat. And the man hit him hard enough to daze him for a moment and nearly triggered a surge of rage. He held it in check as the three men came at him. The first stuck his knife into Jason's side where it grated off his hardened skin.

"Geez," the knife man said. The other two struck with no better results.

"Bad idea, boys," Jason growled.

His first blow lifted one of the men from his feet and hurled him across the room. That was enough. The bar patrons erupted with shouts and curses that announced the beginnings of a major bar room brawl. The bar tended ducked, abandoning his bet as the sounds of breaking wood and shattering glass filled the room.

"Just great," Jason muttered. A quick one two flatted the other two initial attacks. Now all he had to do was get to the door through the melee. Jason put his head down and started walking. Anyone who came at him was slapped away with enough force to make sure they didn't come back for more. Soon enough, Jason was clear though the sounds of battle continued behind him.

"Have fun, gentlemen," Jason said as he headed towards his motorcycle. He needed to head back to the Freedom Fortress. He was going to need some help following the trail.

John Miller, a.k.a: The Ant, was (pardon the pun) bugged.

It had been three days since the main computer at the Freedom Fortress had started acting oddly, and he was at a complete loss to explain why. He'd checked every tube, every wire, every connection, and even the more alien parts that Mentor had provided, and still he saw no reason for the machine's strange behavior. The upper level functions were working fine, but for some inexplicable reason, it would randomly activate other functions for no good reason. Lights flickered, doors opened and shut and the coffee pot would kick on with out warning. Not to mention that the computer kept bringing up some kind of card game John didn't even know they had that seemed vaguely unwinnable.

He crouched beside an open panel in the main control panel, examining the keyboard connections for a short. As he worked, one of his tools started to slide off the panel. Still deeply involved in his mission, he decided to let it clatter to the floor rather than try and lunge for it.

"You dropped this."

The Ant looked up; it was that strange girl Direwolf brought by, the one that had Mentor so worked up. She was holding the fallen screwdriver.

"Thanks," said John.

"What are you working on?"

He straightened up. "There's something wrong with our computer," he explained, "and I'm trying to- Oh no not again!"

The main console flickered with a result of a city wide scan for trees, a team roster alphabetized by the second letter of the last name, and another card game.

The Ant sighed heavily. "I don't understand it. I've tried everything and I still can't figure out what's causing it."

"Oh." said the girl. She stared at the screen a moment and then said quietly, "I better go."

"Don't worry, you're not in the way or anything-"

"No, really. I better go. Um... good luck."

Glitch Girl hurried out of the control room silently cursing herself. That was the problem with her powers - if she lost focus for too long, her powers tended to start going off at random, which meant everything electrical was a potential target. And right now, there was plenty of distraction to keep her unfocused, not the least of which was the fact that she was going stir-crazy being cooped up in the Freedom Fortress day after day.

There was only one thing she could think of to remedy the situation.

"Mentor?" she thought loudly "Can you hear me?"

"Yes Glitch Girl," the metal response sounded in her synapses, "I am here. Is there something wrong?"

"I have to go out."

"Out?"

"As in outside. Now."

"In forty years, I'll be sitting in the park, in this same spot, probably on this same bench, doing the exact same thing," Glitch Girl thought. "Some things never change."

The park was one of the few oasises of green in the huge city, which made it a good place to be by yourself and ponder things out. Back in her time, she'd come here when she needed to think or just get away from the Freedom Fortress for a while, she'd just pull on some street clothes and no one would be the wiser. After all, you can't be a superhero all the time...

Right now, she wasn't even that, and it was driving her crazy. She had never realized how much she had gotten used to being a hero until now.

She reached down, picked up a small stone and tossed into the lake to watch the ripples.

That was the problem, she thought, the whole "time ripple" thing? You're afraid of messing up how things are supposed to happen down the timeline, so you sit here and don't do anything and just wait for someone to come up with a way to rescue you but until then, you're just stuck.

She hadn't chosen to become a hero, it was more like hero-ness had been thrust upon her and while she hadn't said "no", she couldn't remember ever actually saying "yes". Direwolf had been very persuasive at the time...

Everything he said made sense now. Her Direwolf (she was starting to think of the one from her time as "Her Direwolf" as opposed to the near stranger she had met here) knew so much about her when they first met: her name, her powers, just about everything about her...

She remembered asking him "You seem to know a lot about me. Have we met?"

He'd replied "Not exactly... but I've met you."

Then he'd added "Don't worry, it'll all make sense someday."

Of course, at the time she never imagined that "someday" was going to be forty years in the past.

Another rock splashed into the lake.

She missed Her Direwolf. He smiled a lot more than this one, not to mention he was much more relaxed. She could talk to him a lot more easily than the one in this time line. This one was always on edge which tended to make her edgy as well. And the near overt hostility between him and MinuteMan seemed to keep him well away from the Freedom Fortress which is where she was stuck most of the time she'd been here. Physically they were almost identical, but their personalities were so different, it was like talking to a stranger wearing an image inducer.

Her Direwolf must be worried sick about her...

Or maybe he wasn't. After all, she thought, he probably remembers how this all turned out. He'd always been there, guiding her in her life as a superhero from the day he convinced her to give it a try. He was part teacher, part coach, part confidant... He'd helped train her, got her to focus herself to gain more and more control over her erratic powers, and somehow under his guidance, he'd convinced her she actually WANTED to be a superhero.

All because he KNEW what she could become, because he'd seen it himself.

But he never told her about this.

And the question remained... WHY didn't he tell her about this?

Probably because he couldn't, she realized. If she knew what was going to happen, she might do something to change events and everything and then something time-paradoxy might happen and the next thing you know a giant banana slug is president or something.

"Okay, maybe nothing that strange," she chuckled to herself, "but you never know."

A third rock sent more ripples dancing across the water's surface.

She never thought she'd admit it, but she wanted to be a superhero again. This waiting.. this doing nothing for three days straight, it was driving her crazy. She hated being helpless, and that's what she was right now, afraid to do anything and creating a cosmic-level screw up and thanks to all that worrying, her control on her Glitch Aura was starting to slip.

It wasn't fair, she just wanted to do SOMETHING besides wait to be rescued. IF she got rescued.

A thought occurred to her.

What if they never told her because-

"Afternoon Miss," a voice to her right said. "I'm here collecting for my favorite charity... Me. And I insist you make a donation."

Glitch Girl glanced up briefly. There was a man who practically had the word "thug" tattooed on his forehead standing nearby holding a very worn, well used looking bat.

"Go away, I'm broke," she muttered. She really didn't feel like dealing with a mugger at the moment, especially one that thought he was being witty.

"C'mon lady, hand over the purse, otherwise I'm gonna have to rough you up!" He beat the bat against his palm for emphasis.

To his surprise, she stood up, put her hands on her hips, looked him square in the eye and said, "No."

The mugger looked confused. "Hey, lady. Aren't you supposed to be uh... screamin' for help or somethin'?"

Glitch Girl rolled her eyes: one thing hadn't changed in forty years, the muggers were still stupid.

The deck of the freighter Houston Belle rolled under Direwolf's feet as he scanned the blue water around him. They were anchored off the cost of South Caroline as near to where Sculpin should rest as they could manage.

The Houston Belle was an independent freighter skippered by Robert Thornton, and old friend of Hank Waters. Thornton had agreed to help his friend and so the Freedom Flyer had brought Direwolf, Sea Urchin and Hank, who the world knew now as Man-O-War out to meet the ship here at sea. Now, they were looking for the wreck of the Sculpin.

A retching noise of unalloyed misery from the rail reminded Jason that there were two others who had come along. Skip and Devon where there as ‘advisors'. Since school was out of session, they two of them had lobbied for a chance to come along, arguing that since Jason as going to try deep sea diving, he might need their expertise. Jason had relented and agreed. The water really wasn't his element.

And Devon had discovered he lack ‘sea legs'. Skip stood beside his friend, making sure he didn't fall over. Both of them wore black masks more for the adventure then to protect their identities.

Direwolf watched the waves, looking for signs of life. The sea looked as empty as a desert wasteland. Then a pair of blue heads broke the water and moments latter, Sea Urchin and Man-O-War surged aboard.

"Well?" Direwolf asked impatiently.

"Ah lad, she's down there. On her side right where you contact said she'd be. No sign of what have put her on the bottom." Man-O-War ran his scaled hand over his face, whipping away the water. "No need for you to go down there, you know. We can search the ship far better then you, no offense."

"None taken, Man-O-War. I just feel that this is sort of my case and I should make the effort to look for myself, and this is a chance to see your world for myself."

"Yeah, come on Man-O-War, it'll be fun and I'm sure Direwolf can take care of himself. And we'll be there to help out.

By the way young Merry Mason smiled at him, Jason had the uncomfortable feeling that the thirteen-year-old girl was in danger of developing a crush of heroic proportions. He'd had to deal with the same sort of thing from undergrads at City University, but this was the first time someone so young had latched on to him. He resolved not to encourage her.

"It's not fun down there, lass. There's five hundred feet of water, it's colder then a winter's night of the Grand Banks and black as the inside of a pocket. Not a place for sight seeing!"

"Then it's a good thing I'm prepared for this. Let me gear up and let's go."

Devon recovered enough to come lend a hand. He and Skip helped Jason prepare for the dive while Sea Urchin got underfoot trying to help and Man-O-War scowled. The freighter crew stayed out of the way.

"Now remember, you are dealing with high pressure down there," Skip said. "Since your bones are solid, you shouldn't have trouble with internal squeezing except in your airway and we think your system can take it. But if you sense a growing pain in your chest or head, get up and out. You are breathing a mixture of helium and oxygen so we have planned for decompression. I'll post a time table down the line with decompression times once I know how long you have been down."

Jason had stripped to just his shorts and mask. He knew the latter wasn't really necessary but it just didn't feel right for Direwolf to go into action with out it.

"You're wet suite has chemical heaters," Devon said, still looking decidedly green. "Just slap the patches hard when you want them to turn on. I figure each should be good for about twenty minutes. The mask has been filled with an optical gel that you should be able to see though but won't compress like an air space. It'll feel weird on your face when you blink and don't try breathing in through your nose!

"Man-O-War was able to get us a rebreather that we have hooked in line to extend your bottom time and we'll send down spare tanks. For light, you got flares, each is good for about ten minutes. If you have to get up fast, pull the tab on the diving harness. That inflates your escape vest and up you come, but you are going have one wicked case of the bends."

Jason nodded in understanding while Skip and Devon finished fitting everything into place. The last part was the modified dive mask that Skip filled with the cool clear gel.

"You are right," Jason said, "It feels weird."

Skip and Devon smiled behind their hands. Sea Urchin laughed and Man-O-War cracked a smile that looked like it wanted to turn in to a full-blown guffaw.

"What" Direwolf asked.

"Your voice, lad," Man-O-War explained, "the helium makes you sound like that cartoon duck."

At that, Skip and Devon joined Sea Urchin in laughter.

"Very funny, now let's go!" Direwolf moved to the rail of the ship and jumped over.

"What did she say, Patrick?" the lady police officer asked her partner.

"Well," said the other officer, "the lady said he tried to mug her and that he threatened her with a weapon."

"The bat?"

"Yeah."

"So then what?"

"Well..She made sure he didn't," Patrick finished lamely.

The female officer chuckled as the two looked down at the unconscious mugger and the huge purple bruise around his eye, his bat lying serenely beside him in the grass. They recognized him as Bobby "the Bat" Maloney.

"Bobby the Bat, decked by a girl," said Patrick and gave a low whistle. "He'll never live this down."

His partner gave a small cough.

"No offense."

"Oh, I know what you meant," she said, her voice still tinged with mild annoyance.

"You know something Pam?"

"What?"

"I wonder if she was one of those Freedom Force people. In disguise, you know... a secret identity or something."

"What makes you think that?"

"She knocked down Bobby the Bat," said Officer Patrick, "and she doesn't look like a trained police woman or anything like that," he added quickly, "and when I was done getting her statement, she went off that way in a big hurry." He pointed off in the direction of gleaming white Freedom Fortress.

Pam thought about this for a moment. "I dunno Patrick..."

The both stared off at the shining white building that housed Patriot City's Heroes.

"Have to admit, it does make you wonder..."

To be continued...