1: A Superlative Return

Or, Hawkins Catches Up

If you’re new to Edison City, catch up with the Edison City Index! For events immediately preceding this one, see A Whole New World! And finally, if you like this story or others in this ‘Stack, don’t forget to comment, like, subscribe, etc.!

And now, on with the story!

Someone had brought in donuts. Hawkins didn’t know who, and he didn’t ask why; he was in a relatively good mood for once, so he snatched a glazed and a jelly-filled to take back to his desk. Bundling the donuts in a napkin, he was on his way out of the break room when he passed Cindy on her way in. “Morning,” she said. “Hey, I’m doing a brief on the Candystriper situation at ten, you want in?”

“The Candystriper situation?” Hawkins said, pausing.

“What, you haven’t seen the morning update? It’s all over the civilian news anyway. I’m surprised you didn’t hear; we had to lock down the hospital to hold off the looky-loos.”

Hawkins nearly dropped the donuts. He said something in acknowledgment to Cindy, he would never remember what, and dashed back to his office. The one time he’d broken his morning routine and something had happened: he couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t even had the chance to check in on the tracking he’d set up for John Cute. If that had gone wrong…

As the morning update scrolled across his screen, followed by a torrent of highest-urgency emails and messages all screaming basically the same thing, Hawkins’ phone chirped.

“Yes, Director, yes I under- no, I just- yes, I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and took a breath. He’d never been to the office of the Director of the D.E.R.P. before. This wasn’t going to be good.

---

“Let me summarize the situation, Mr. Hawkins, just so you understand fully what we’re dealing with. We have a cape, Mr. Superlative, who’s gone missing, presumed kidnapped or murdered by Professor Irreconcilable Differences or the Scarlet Shapeshifter; we suspect they’re working together. Mr. Superlative’s son, Sam Superlative Jr., is missing too, and we have no idea where. Let me rephrase that,” the Director said, “We have no data. We’ve had more than one cape assist us with this, and our best scientists, and they can’t find anything. We believe he was fired upon with the Kaboominator, but even if the blast killed him, there should be some remains, traces, residual energy. Nothing. My people tell me this is scientifically impossible, but there it is. Or isn’t, I suppose. The Kaboominator’s locked up again so maybe this time we can study it and figure out what it does.”

The Director made a very small shrug. “Moving on. The Professor herself is in St. Cupertino and hasn’t regained consciousness yet to explain what happened, meanwhile the Scarlet Shapeshifter’s gone to ground. She could be anyone at this point. I assume you did the full identity check on the way in?”

Hawkins nodded, wincing at the memory. “Good.” the Director said, “It’ll have to be standard protocol now. Anyway, not only is the Professor in the hospital we’ve got the Malevolent Med-Student’s primary known associate Candystriper in there and she’s even worse off; needless to say she hasn’t regained consciousness either. The Malevolent Med-Student is there but he won’t talk to us, and for some reason I can’t understand he’s being protected by Captain Happily Married and his family. They’re in the waiting room with him and they won’t let our people approach. Nobody wants to take on Meg Atomic, not to mention the rest of them, so we’re at an impasse. I would send John Cute to talk to them but he’s gone AWOL and no one seems to know why, and further I understand that you tasked agency resources to track the Malevolent Med-Student at his request so maybe you want to explain all this? Or any of it?”

“Well-” Hawkins began, and then he was interrupted as an agent burst into the Director’s office. “We’ve got something! Readings on the warehouse site, off the scale, massive energy spike!”

“Change of plan!” the Director barked. “You can explain on the way, Mr. Hawkins!”

By the time they got there, the energy spike, which had started out as random flashes and pops of light, had sorted itself out and gone into a swirling green and gold pinwheel formation. Several of the D.E.R.P. agents on site looked away while others pulled out sunglasses; Hawkins was more interested in the faint shadowy figure he thought he had glimpsed in the heart of the spinning energy blur. All of a sudden there was a pop and a fwoosh of light, and there, standing before them in familiar red boots, was someone who looked almost but not quite like Sam Superlative.

Hawkins hadn’t served in the deep-cover First Contact unit of the D.E.R.P., but he knew a few of the protocols. Besides which, he knew, or at least he thought he knew, the kid. “Hey,” he said, giving the Director beside him a start, “Hey, kid! Sam!”

The figure in the red boots turned towards him. He held up a hand and tapped a few buttons on a small squarish device buckled to his side. It beeped. Words echoed across the site. “Apologies. Calibrating xenocon filter now. Please hold.”

Hawkins blinked. That sounded like it’d been in his head. He’d talked to telepaths before, if “talking” was really the right word: this had been like that, but kicked up a notch. Then the device beeped again. When Sam, or whoever it was that looked like Sam, spoke, the words that came out of his mouth didn’t quite sync up to his mouth’s movements, like watching an old DVD that skipped. It made Hawkins feel more than a bit jumpy.

“My apologies,” the kid said. “Difficulties of initial translation, especially if you aren’t equipped with one of your own. Shame about that. Anyway. I understand it’s your custom to do introductions, so I’ll begin, shall I?”

He made a punctiliously formal bow. “Samuel Superlative the Third, at your service.”

Before Hawkins could respond to that one, or even try to make sense of it, he heard another small pop and several more people materialized out of nowhere. This time he did know who they were, a freelance team of sorts who operated in and around the city and occasionally its suburbs. “Hi there,” said a scruffy man in a dirt-brown uniform who looked to be the leader. “I’m the Wombat, that’s Gaseous Girl, the Green Moth, and Ron Raven. I hear you’ve got a time thing.”

The Director said something vile in a low tone of voice. Hawkins’ stomach clenched. It was going to be a long day.

Read the Next Episode.