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June 19, 2014 

Waterfront, Freedom City

 

The evening patrol for the three young heroes had gone well - very well indeed. They were all on the rooftop of a closed fish market, watching down below as a small group of gangsters smoked cigarettes, cursed, and waited for their rendezvous. Word on the street was that a big player, maybe even a Crime League member, was going to arrive on the docks tonight to meet with the triad leaders below to discuss an upcoming deal - that meant that a savvy trio of young crime fighters could potentially catch some big fish tonight. Of course, that assumed everyone was going to show up. 

 

It was a warm evening, at least by the standards of a New Jersey summer, with a warm breeze blowing in from the sea that made the air humid and slick against spandex uniforms. In their suits and ties below, the triad men didn't seem very happy either - one older man with a short white beard kept looking at his watch, while another with a shaved head was reassuring the others in a voice loud enough to carry up to the roof that "He'll be on time, don't worry, don't worry!", something that he seemed to find quite amusing. It wasn't a normal patrol, that was for sure; the air seemed pregnant with anticipation as dark clouds billowed in the eastern sky, as if a real storm was coming. Of course, if that happened their targets just might get back in their sports cars and head home. 

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Thoughtspeed normally wasn't one for stakeouts, but having heard that his quiet friend Errant would be on this case, he figured that he could provide his buddy some backup. Cho being present meant that he was somehow the "middle man"; more experienced than the new student, but not quite as thoroughly skilled and experienced as the quiet psychic next to him. 

 

He'd cleared it with the two of them beforehand to use at least some minimal psychic communication during the stakeout. It was a valuable asset, being able to speak without making noise. 

 

--At the rate Baldy is going down there, we could be eating popcorn up here and none of them would hear us.--

 

He paused, his faceless helmet looking between his two companions.

 

--Am I the only one who kind of hopes this just fizzles out? Crime League members are pretty big-time. If there's just one, we could probably take care of it...but it still makes me jittery. Errant, you've still got that emergency signal, right? The one Headmaster Summers gave you?--

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Errant was... Errant.  As nonplussed as normal.  Or at least he was showing such that much.  The grey hoodie he had over his uniform was an effort to mask the bright colors of the Claremont uniform.  The boots he wore were because he hated overly stiff and slippery soled ones that came with the uniform.  Well in his estimation at least.

 

'Yes.  Though I can reach his mind as well if need be.'  As usual Errants mind was closed despite the communication, moreso than his body language.  But then if people asked he would explain it was to prevent tele-empathic feedback to the people around him.  That was likely a lie, but it was an okay lie, and people don't push it too hard about it.  Of course he wasn't boasting about breaching Summer's mental defenses, more he could talk to people at the school.

 

'This is... wrong... these aren't very experienced Triad members.  Too fidgety.'  Not that he was an expect, however... there was something off, something he didn't like from the feel of of them..

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'Ihatethissuitstillnotusedtoit' was what crossed Cho's mind for a moment. Seems her mind was just about as half-nervous half-energetic as her mannerism and speech. She hadn't had much of a chance to get used to the spandex uniform and presumably this only made her more awkward than usual. Not that she hated the idea the idea of wearing a costume, but the thing had a way of making her slightly uncomfortable. At least it wasn't one of the yellow costumes but something darker; trading the yellow for black and the bright blue for a darker, more muted navy blue. Sure, that looked bright and heroic but it wasn't a good idea to wear one of those in a mission requiring stealth.

 

Speaking of 'fidgety', Cho certainly was, as the waiting game clearly wasn't her strong suit at all. It likely didn't help she was the only one in the group to lack telepathic abilities to ease communication. "Okay." she whispered. "There's just plain something wrong here." She paused for a moment, hoping the guy hadn't heard. "Honestly, I wouldn't feel bad leaving that one to somebody else if the crime league is involved because I don't think we could take them in a fight. I mean, I want to. I just...it's just maybe a bit more than I can chew."

Edited by RobRX
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The heroes were expecting trouble, but what arrived still came as a surprise just because it came so fast. With a clatter on the dock below, a black blur erupted upwards from the surface of the water to greet the fidgety mobsters, the blur resolving itself as it slowed to the Crime League's personal speedster - Downtime. "Hey hey hey!" the costumed thief said with a tone of mild amusement, "put those down! It's all good!" The triad members, many of whom had drawn down on the arriving figure, relaxed and put their guns away. "Hey, Sloppy Joe! My man!" He put his arm around the bald triad member's shoulders affectionately, then just as fast zipped away until he was directly facing down the mobsters again. "Listen, boys, we got your message, and I gotta tell you a bigger cut's not gonna work. Boss says we all need to play our part in the orchestra, and right now you guys are...I dunno, what do you call those fiddly harps? That's you guys. Don't blame me, though, I'm just the messenger!"

 

"What!" The older triad leader's eyes narrowed and he flexed his muscles - behind his back, where Downtime couldn't see but the heroes on the roof could, a light glowed in a semi-circular shape like a rising sun. "You may cut us out, but you know who our master is! The Doctor has taken enough of your insolence, you jumped-up punk! You are nothing but a thief wearing another man's genius!"

 

Suddenly, a third figure appeared with a puff of displaced air - this one all in black as well, but a more uniform cut than Downtime's flashy costume, like a ninja costume or a stagehand's. The teleporter arrived just behind the triad leader who had spoken up, his hand directly over that glowing light. "Well, I am a genius, bèn dàn. If your master thinks he can win a war against the Crime League, he is welcome to try." The guns were out now, half-pointed at the teleporter, half at the speedster. "As I recall, he couldn't even win a war against his own daughter!" The ninja-suited man laughed, loud and long and clear. 

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Will narrowed his eyes at the new arrivals. A speedster and a teleporter? Not the easiest prey, but it could definitely be worse.

 

--Okay, these guys, I think we can take. I'm going to head for Downtime. You two try to snag Mister Teleport. Failing that, take down the Triads. Then we can shake them down for info. If things start to go south we bug out and call for backup. But I think we got this.--

 

The other two could feel Will's confidence rising, and sense the smile on his face, helmet or no. He seemed to wait just a moment....

 

And then suddenly he was a blur of motion down the side of the building, twin blades of energy in his hands leaving a glowing trail of motes of kinetic energy in his wake! He was quickly right up on Downtime, holding the swords at ready in a stance he'd learned from his Grandma Cline, inserting as much menace as he could into what he said.

 

"Man, you're still running with the League? Pfft. How's your speed these days, old man?"

Edited by KnightDisciple
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Errant about sword as Thoughtspeed burst down there in a flurry of motion.

 

'Try to remember that not all of can cover the ground you can.  And that it would have been preferred if they had fought among each other.  Just a little bit'

 

While it might be reproachful to others, from Errant it was just as dry and neutral as ever.  He glanced to Cho from behind his full face mask, and shrugged, as he made his way towards the fire escape.  

 

'Cho thoughts move at the same speed, so do not worry about cramming.  We're committed, if need be I will buy us an escape, but not we need to make sure Thoughtspeed doesn't get doubleteamed'

 

He held in his private reservations, because adding them at the moment would not help anyone.  Especially his teammates.  He didn't like the odds.  He had run against heavies before, but in most cases he needed to perceive them to get them, and a speedster and teleporter meant that the proposition of such just got trickier.  Still, he was more thinking about the men with guns.  He had only tried to stop bullets a few times, and he wasn't sure he could pull the timing needed to do that with more than one gun.  Well... always had to test oneself.

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"Allright..." said Cho, breathing in, before smirking and slamming her right fist into her left palm. Grabbing the collar of her suit, she pulled it down on her face, making mask to hide her face, safe for her mouth. "Since he can teleport, it just mean I have to get him without him seeing me coming."

 

Walking back to the other edge of the building, the girl crouched into position position, before quickly spriting, causing the roof of the building to crack as she lept into the air. With this burst of speed and the extra height, Cho turned into a meteor of sort as she fell down at full speed, foot first and fully outstretched, ready to deliver a powerful kick right in the face of the teleporter before he'd ever even have the idea of zapping himself away to safety. "Hiyaaah!"

 

With the full force of the blow, Cho and the teleporter crashed into the ground, creating a big hole in the pavement.

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Cho tucked her body at the last minute so she didn't pulp the man she'd struck against the asphalt, leaving her straddling his midsection as he looked up at her. Cho couldn't see him (and it definitely was a he), but he evidently could see her through black patches on his nearly featureless masked that were evidently eyeholes.  "Schiesse! You!" There was recognition in that voice, and pain from what had to be at least one cracked rib, even if he was no one she had ever seen before in her life. Suddenly he was gone, teleporting out of the crater and out next to Downtime, cradling his ribs in obvious pain. For his part, Downtime was facing down Thoughtspeed with an aura of annoyance. 

 

"Oh, for pity's sake, kid, are you really calling out the fastest man alive?" Hopping from foot to foot, Downtime zipped over next to Cho and raised a fist. "Well, after I kick your friend's ass, we'll see if you can keep up with-what the hell!" He'd left a long trail of glowing energy behind him, one that crackled from Thoughtspeed to Downtime like two points of a Jacob's Ladder. "What the hell, kid, did you take a showerrrrrr innnnnnn" his words were stretching out as the lightning crackled out again, this time reaching his still unnamed partner, before bouncing back to Downtime, forming a triangle that neatly enclosed the three superheroes as Errant came down off the fire escape. "chrrrrrroooooooooonnnnnnoooooo...." 

 

And then there was another flash of light, and a sound like thunder - and the three heroes were elsewhere. 

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June 19, 1981

Capetown, South Africa

 

Devil's Peak 

 

Thoughtspeed awoke face-down in the dirt, only his helmet saving him from a mouthful of earth as he sat up. He was in the middle of a small burned patch in the center of what had once been a pretty field of pink flowers, overlooking a coastal city he had never seen before in his life. It was daytime and a bright daytime at that, but downright chilly as a cool breeze came rolling in off that vast, blue ocean. As far as he could tell, he was alone, but there were a few hikers he could see elsewhere on this mountain, and they all seemed to be pointing towards where he was. He had plenty of time, given his speed, but they were coming this way. 

 

Lion's Head 

 

Errant heard the thoughts before the words.

 

<Ah, look at him. He's John's age> 

 

He opened his eyes to see a man bending over him, a dignified figure in his late sixties in a brown suit with a broad red fez on his head, his copper-colored skin showing the marks of much sun on his face. "Kid, you speak English? Afrikaaner? Melayu? We've got to get you out of here before the damn kêrels show up. They see you passed out in the cemetery, they'll think you're drunk and throw you in the hoosegow - or maybe think you had the bomb, eh?" Sitting up, Errant found that he was indeed in a cemetery, and an old one at that, the tombstones engraved with Malay interspersed with English, the stones long since worn smooth. "Come on, I'll get you in the rectory." 

 

Zonnebloem 

 

"It's some bloody colored girl." The kick to her ribs roused Cho as she opened her eyes - she was lying on her back in a vacant lot, looking up at a blue sky and the scowling face of a police officer in an unfamiliar uniform. "Hey, China doll, get up!" Sitting up, she could see there were two officers, both of them wearing heavy mirrorshades and glowering down at her. She was in an unfamiliar neighborhood on a cool, albeit bright day, in a vacant lot that looked to be wedged between two recently demolished buildings. "What'd you do, blow up your still?" the first officer who'd spoken sneered. "Where's your papers, girl?" 

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Cho blinked. So bright. Since when was it so bright. Grunting, she used one arm to raise her torso up, reaching out touch the mask. "Of course, first time I use one it gets torn apart." she muttered. She didn't have much time to think about that as everything else dawned up on her.

 

Truth be told, Cho had always had it relatively easy, despite being the child of a mixed marriage. Yes, she had to deal with a few stupid people but things weren't really all that bad in the long run. Her mixed heritage had never really been something that made her feel like an outsider. However, all that was new. Those were new words, althought she knew exactly what they meant. Normally, she would have ignored those but in the confusion of the current events she really wasn't in the mood for it. Not one bit. Standing up to her full height, fists clenched, face twisted in anger, she glared at the first officer. "What did you call me?"

Edited by RobRX
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"I called you a bloody China doll, you stupid git," said the younger of the two officers, his accented voice hard as nails as he glared at her. "You know what? I don't give a damn about your papers. We're taking you down to the bloody station." He pulled out a big, heavy billy club - a heavy metal baton that looked nothing like the non-lethal instruments carried by Freedom City cops. (Come to think of it, these guys didn't seem to have belt radios either.) He advanced on Cho, the look on his face one of a man expecting trouble with gleeful anticipation.

 

The other officer, a little older, was not friendlier as such, but a little more cautious. "Don't get your broekies in a knot, Hendrick. I think she's a Yank..." 

But his partner didn't look ready to back down. "Yank or not, it's against the bloody law to get drunk in the middle of the street! Not to mention blow up a bloody bomb. Bet she's one of those bloody Reds comes over and helps out the blacks. Come on, girl, get down and put up your hands!" He hit her with the club, and not gently. 

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If not for the fact she actually saw the club hit her, Cho wouldn't have even registered that blow. As the officer raised his hand for another blow, Cho readied herself. When the second strike came down, she grabbed the stick with her hand. "I don't know who you are, or where I am..." Said Cho, in a low, tense and menacing tone as red crackles began to appear around her hand and arm.

 

"...but you're an officer. You keep the peace. You protect the innocents. You don't start the fights, you end them. You don't call people slurs. You DON'T hit people who can't defend themselves. Because, unfortunately for you..." With a crackling noise, the metal baton was either reduced to nothing or vaporized and scattered in the air. "I can defend myself."

Edited by RobRX
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Errant never handled something like this well.  If it was a sudden shift in positions.  Fortunately it was not, this time.  So he wasn't throwing up.

 

He rolled to his knees, pausing as his web remapped the area around him, before he rose to his feet.  "English."  His voice thick, so was his tongue, as he pushed himself up.  Blinking a moment, as he adjusted to the light, before he grasped his mask and pulled it off.  Having the scruff of a teenager who hadn't shaved in a few days on his face, his head shaved.  More or less. 

 

Feeling out, tentatively, for Cho and Thoughtspeed, and they were out of his line of sight, and even further out of the reach of his mind.

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It took Will several moments to get even close to getting his bearings. He had...really, he had no idea where, or when, he was. He remembered what Downtime had said; he suspected something about his own father's powers being used all the time in the house (and thus likely leaving him covered in trace amounts of chronal particles or some such), combined with his own kinetic energy manipulation, combined with Downtime's powers, and topped off with that other guy's powers, threw them through space and time. Because that was just how Cline luck ran.

 

The plus side was he was sometime recent enough that people hiked for fun and not survival. And still on Earth. So that was a thing.

 

But he didn't really know more than that. So rather than risk some sort of really nasty encounter, he stood up, took a couple of wobbling steps, got his land legs back, and ran away in a blur of motion. He kept running until he was in a spot secluded from view of anyone else, at which point he stopped and retracted his helmet, taking in a few deep breaths. 

 

Then he felt Errant reaching out, and managed to respond along the same "channel".

 

--Errant! I think we did a time-space wobbly travely thingy. Ow, my brain. Ugh. Right. I...I have no clue where I am. Except "on Earth" and "on a mountain with pretty flowers". We can't be super-far apart, but...yeesh. What's going on on your end? I'm safe for the moment.--

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He nodded at the man's words, "Yes, I need to sit down somewhere."  It wasn't a lie, but he was trying to work out what was...  Afrikaaners?  He frowned a little bit, for a moment, his bright eyes working as he looked at the man before him.  Errant was incongruous looking, certainly not a from around her, and his accent certainly indeterminable, especially with his deep voice.  Those eyes swept over the surroundings of the graveyard, his brows knitting together in concentration.  

 

'South Africa, near Capetown.  Something happened.  Explosion or the something.  Authorities out.  If you can get out of your uniform.  And be discreet.'

 

The young psionic looked around himself, moving a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing at it slowly, digging his fingers against his skin, as his lips pursed together.

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Errant found himself sitting inside a building that was obviously a religious shrine, even if he didn't recognize the faith immediately. His host, who introduced himself as "Abdul Sultani, imam," sat him down on a simple wooden chair and brought him a glass of water. "You're lucky. Two years ago, I'd have had to send you back to work the pump, heh-heh-heh." Poverty in the outside world was something Errant had seen some of during his time at Claremont, but Abdul's shrine didn't look poor, just...empty of things Errant had come to expect from places outside of Earth-Prime. Outside, Errant could hear sirens, and Abdul sighed softly as he glanced out the window. Looking up, Errant could see a police car that had stopped outside, with "Capetown Police" on the side, and two officers stepping out. "Listen...what's your name, my son?" asked Abdul. "We may not see the Jet Patrol here much, but I know what it means when you show up here in a costume and with flashes of light. You with those Yanks down in the city?" It was a serious question. 

 

 

The mountainside proved to be steep and wet, slowing Thoughtspeed nearly to that of a speeding racecar. It was abundantly clear he was nowhere near Freedom City; there shouldn't have been any mountains this big closer than the Applachians - or maybe the Rockies! He was still able to get away from prying eyes, finding himself in a ravine labeled "Dark Gorge" that was free of hikers - for the moment, anyway. There were big rocks scattered among scrub bushes on the steep slope, enough that this was probably slow glowing for tourists. He could hear distant sirens from the direction he'd come, perhaps police cars that had come up an access road. He could hear the rush of a distant waterfall over the siren, and the noise of birds in the air; and see an unfamiliar animal like a big mountain goat munching contentedly on a nearby bush. 

 

 

The officers went for their guns, but suddenly time slowed to a crawl as Cho felt something brush her arm. At first Cho thought it was just the effects of adrenaline, but then she realized things really had slowed down all around her. And she wasn't alone! Standing between the two officers was a tall, glamorous woman in what looked at first like Renaissance Faire garb; until Cho looked closer and saw the tight-fitting, modern spandex costume under the furred cape and the jewels - adorned with a gold-printed clockface set at 10 and 2. The golden circlet on her head, crowned with a ticking clock of its own, was adorned with shiny jewels that glittered in the sunlight; the swords she wore under her cape at her sides just visible. 

 

"Well, well, well," said her rescuer with a curious look, glancing around at the two officers. "It looks like pigs get wound up over a girl on her own wherever you go," she said before reaching down, taking the two officer's guns, and pointing them, moving their arms like posing animatronic dolls at each other's crotches. "Now, let's talk, shall we, honey? The clock is ticking." She smiled, practically bubbling with enthusiasm, and zipped around just out of arm's reach of Cho; a moment before her voice suddenly snapped back to an almost maternal concern. "Did those Dutch pigs take your mask? Bastards. I've got a spare if you need one." She reached into her pocket and produced a black domino mask. "It's my boy's, but he's about your size. What are you doing in Capetown, crashing the party?"  

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His eyes narrowed a bit, while not the interdimensional traveler that his other classmates had been.  But unlike them, he had been around the world, and in the course of keeping him hidden from his father, his mother had taken him to some of the more deplorable corners of human civilization.  His web told him about the men before they stepped out, and he looked to the imam, "My name is Elias.  I am not with them.  But the police wont believe me.  I have two... friends here.  We are here by accident.  If helping me with cause you harm, I can get away without making things worse for you."

 

The telepath made his words fierce, as anger welled unbidden, pressing out.  Even as he was trying to leash it desperately.  'Jackbooted bastards.'  His anger was such that it broadcasted to Will without Errant noticing.  It would be unsurprising that the New Freedonian had a hatred for dictators and abusers of power.

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After catching his breath, Will took a moment to close his eyes and mask his visual presence, light bending around his body. He was frowning deeply.

 

--South Africa? Crap, that's...not ideal.--

 

And then he heard the comment about jackboots, and while he wasn't a historian, he'd heard some stories from his folks.

 

--Oh double crap. We're back before institutional racism was broken. In South Africa. Oh man oh man oh man. We gotta try to find Cho. None of us are mighty whiteys and these guys loved...love...whatever, beating down folks that weren't like them. We gotta stay low...--

 

He barely remembered half the stuff his parents had mentioned about South Africa "back in the day", but absolutely none of it was anything he wanted to deal with. Between Errant's broadcasted emotions and his own nerves, it was probably good Thoughtspeed was invisible to the naked eye, or he'd probably end up having navigation trouble.

 

As it stood, he took fairly short sprints down the ravine, working to stay out of sight and sound as best as he could.

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Cho then turned to the new arrival, the strangely-dressed woman. Granted, it occured to her that she was also strangely dressed too, when she thought about it. Superhero costumes can be so strange, sometimes, after all. Notas stranges as stopping or slowing time, however. That was strange even after all the weird things she had seen. "Look, thanks but um...I'm a bit lost right now. I could have handled them just fine. I didn't catch your name, who did you say you are?"

 

(Post edited due to mistake.)

Edited by RobRX
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"I'm Clock Queen, the fastest woman alive," said Clock Queen with great firmness, giving Cho a suspicious look that softened quickly into maternal softness. "Man, maybe one of those guys clocked you on the head...listen, honey, I like a little smashing of the pigs too, but South Africa's not like America." She looked around with a sour look on her face. "Their 'heroes' are a bunch of racist thugs who we wouldn't let into the Crime League on a good day, and they'll beat you down into the pavement if they see you walking around on the street. If we didn't have friends in their government, we wouldn't be anywhere near this two-bit operation." She was zipping around as she talked, as if even in the middle of maternal concern she couldn't hold still "At least let me take you back to the hotel and get you something to eat and a shower," she offered, extending a hand Cho's way. "Those flashes of light, were those your friends? Somebody's teleport get screwed up?" She smiled. "C'mon, we'll pick them up on the way. I'll introduce you to my boy." 

 

 

"I've seen what the police do to coloured boys they pick up on the street," said the imam. "If you haven't killed anyone, or hurt a woman, then I will talk to them while you do what you need to do." He gave him a serious look. "But no fighting in my neighborhood, super or otherwise. Remember what the Christians say - a soft answer turneth away wrath." And with that, he headed outside to speak to the police, who met him on the lawn of his sanctuary. Errant could just pick out the words and watched as Abdul seemed to fall into a set 'character', greeting the police with 'sahib!' and smiling too broadly, like an ethnic stereotype made flesh. Just the thing to make racists happy. 

 

Just then, a voice broke into his head - a cheery, feminine one that he had never heard before. 

 

<Hello - I couldn't help but notice your psi-transmission. Don't worry; I'm on your side! Just tell me where you are, and someone can be out there to help you in a few minutes.> 

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While Errant and Cho were busy trying to stay low, or getting help from supercriminals, or possibly both, Thoughtspeed was...well, he was at least sort of laying low.

 

He'd used his speed to get himself closer to town. If he'd had a bag or something he'd have changed, but as it stood, that was a definite no-go. So he just opted to stay invisible, and move in short bursts to try and be less noticeable.

 

Finally, he'd gotten to the edge of the city below, and a few more furtive minutes got him near an open-air newsstand.

 

Now, he was a respectable young man who had been raised NOT to be a criminal (usually). But this was a trying time, and all he wanted was something to get his bearings.

 

So it was only with just a little bit of guilt that he snagged a couple of newspapers and zoomed off to a quiet corner alley, where he pulled back his helmet to read.

 

He knew sort of where he was, but maybe this could confirm it. And more importantly, confirm when it was....

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June 1981, Capetown, South Africa. 

 

The year struck Will like a slap of cold water across the face. In the fall of 1981, about four months from 'now', Clock Queen and Tempus Fugit are due to be busted by Evening, the Eye of Justice, and about fifty Freedom City cops. Clock Queen will go away for twenty years, hard time she did because of the testimony that got her son sentenced as a juvenile rather than an adult. Tempus Fugit, just barely still seventeen at the time of his arrest, will go to jail for three years. When he comes out, he'll hook up with a psychic from a bad family and they'll start calling themselves Fast-Forward and Hologram. 

 

The date, come to think of it, reminded him of something too. 

 

 

This one time, back in '81, right before the big bust came, your nana took me to this really boring villain meet-up in Capetown. The only thing on my mind was seeing your mom there, and maybe we had a good time with our friends, but do you know what happened? The damn city burned down, and over a hundred people died, all because the Crime League decided to have a little party with the Jet Patrol. Crime may look cool, and awesome, and feel totally gnarly when you're doing it, but the price for the people around you is too damn high.

 
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Will reads the date about 10 times, to make absolutely sure he read it correctly. 

 

Yep, correct. 

 

Which meant that he, Errant, and Cho were stuck in Capetown, facing down what was sure to be one of the bloodier chapters of post-WW2 metahuman history.

 

Oh, and he was also going to risk messing up time so bad he might never be born. Or something.

 

The swearing that commenced was so fast and intense that regular listeners, were there any, would only perceive a sound like a swarm of angry hummingbirds on some terrible drug. Certainly nothing that could be perceived as words.

 

Across the barriers of time and space, though, Paige Cline knew with absolute certainty that her son would need a talking-to about his language when she saw him next.

 

When he'd finished his tirade, a still-invisible Thoughtspeed ran out of the alley, leaving the papers haphazardly stacked back at the stand. His mind reached out along the half-open channel Errant had created, panic oozing out of his mental "voice".

 

--Dude we gotta leave. Gotta leave. Now now now! Gotta find Cho and gogogogogogogogoggogo. This is gonna get bad so bad super bad super soon we gotta leave man gotta leave now goleaveusfindhermeetupwhereareyoumustleavenowgoingoinggonenothereanywherebuthereandnowweneedtoLEAVE!--

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"I'm Clock Queen, the fastest woman alive," said Clock Queen with great firmness, giving Cho a suspicious look that softened quickly into maternal softness. "Man, maybe one of those guys clocked you on the head...listen, honey, I like a little smashing of the pigs too, but South Africa's not like America."

 

"Um..." The girl blinked, quite lost. "Wait what, S-s-south Africa? What? How did I get here?! Wait hold on that's not right it's -"

 

 

She looked around with a sour look on her face. "Their 'heroes' are a bunch of racist thugs who we wouldn't let into the Crime League on a good day, and they'll beat you down into the pavement if they see you walking around on the street. If we didn't have friends in their government, we wouldn't be anywhere near this two-bit operation." She was zipping around as she talked, as if even in the middle of maternal concern she couldn't hold still.

 

"Wait, hold on please just a moment please how is that even possible? I thought *that* was over and how am I even in South Africa, that's on another continent! No wait plea-" It seems the Clock Queen wasn't slowing down at all as she kept zipping around at high speed, which reminded Cho quite a lot of Thoughtspeed. Only even more annoying and confusing.

 

 

"At least let me take you back to the hotel and get you something to eat and a shower," she offered, extending a hand Cho's way. "Those flashes of light, were those your friends? Somebody's teleport get screwed up?" She smiled. "C'mon, we'll pick them up on the way. I'll introduce you to my boy."

 

"No, um, I...don't think it was a teleport." Cho rubbed her forehead for a moment. "I hope I'm wrong here, I really hope so but given the racist cops and what they said, I have to ask; what year is it?"

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