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Freedom City 

 

With one last effort that seemed to take everything from her, Beth Walton-Wright pushed - and heard Cassandra's exclamation of joy a moment after her own cry of ultimate exertion wracked the air. "It's a girl!" But as another contraction came, Beth bore down again, knowing her job wasn't over! 

 

 

Southern Belle lay discarded on the grass - even the heroes with no magical gifts could see her fading, the colors and costume created by the spiritual possession beginning to transform back into their original forms. For the more spiritually inclined in the group, the face of the former Confederate heroine was visible - aging by the minute, it was as if all the years were catching up to the phantom's soul at once. 

 

"She's gone," croaked Mary Hammer, with what might well be her last breath. "She's gone, and she didn't take me with her..." She looked up at Temperance and asked, "What's going to happen to me?" 

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She was looking at her.

This woman was the embodiment of an entire regime that had viewed Temperance, and everyone like her, like chattel. She had to remember that. She believed in a world where it was fine to split up families for profit, where teaching people to read was a luxury, where black people should not look a white woman in the eye and a lash was a great deterrent for that. All she had to do was keep her mouth shut.

She was looking at her.

Spirits died all the time. Or at least, did the closest thing they could to dying. Ideas, movements, empires, all had their time to recede into the shadows. Some changed with death - Disco had turned into so many things right now it was hard to see the ghost of what it had once been. Death was natural for a thing of spirit...

She was looking at her... and pleading.

Temperance knew she was going to hate herself in the morning for this.

"You'll find what you're looking for," she said, trying to be as comforting as possible. "It may be the pearly gates. It may be your beloved. It may be a place where you can serve as a symbol of your home." Technically speaking, those were all true. Then again, so was oblivion. She didn't know what happened to people whose very souls were wedded to conceptual spirits. Could they become spirits of their own? "But you will be free."

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"And they call me a liesmith," Set piped up from behind Temperance's shoulder, the sun at his back as he loomed over the weakened spirit and her unwilling host in shadow. Crouching down, the godling looked Southern Belle directly in the eyes. "Temperance tis a good soul, you see. You and I, though, we recognize our own kind, aye? So a word of advice, Miss Mary Mary Quite Contrary, one sin without the sense to pass into history to another." Leaning forward so that his mouth was near her ear, Set lowered his voice so that only the fading shade and the water elementalist could hear him. "You've cheated death for a terrible long while and been thoroughly unpleasant for even longer. I doubt you'll fade away; too many things would very much like a piece of one such as yourself. So, when you get where you're going... run. Run and don't stop."

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The spirit gasped, eyes wide - and then, as the magical heroes watched, went to the place where ghosts go when they die. For his part, Caradoc had missed most of the exchange between the heroes and the spectre, occupied as he was with looking over Miss Americana to make sure her pilot was all right. Secrets had to be kept here - a look, a glance, a nod behind his armor; and for all that they hardly exchanged a word he knew she was well enough. He approached just as the startled policewoman, a uniformed officer with short black hair and bright blue eyes, sat up as if she'd been poked by a cattleprod. "Jesus Mary and Joseph!" she exclaimed, "it was like...good God, what happened?" she asked, looking up at all the heroes. "Did I hurt anybody?" 

 

Caradoc looked around at the scene, where some considerable property damage had been done to the park, and said, "No. Only things - and that is small." 

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"Good god...?" Set asked with exaggerated consideration, sliding smoothly out of his bright red blazer as he stood and draping it around the disoriented public servant's shoulder. "Tis none matching that description here, officer!" With a broad wink and a sloppy salute, the godling favoured her with an ear-to-ear smile but all of the affectations of good cheer slipped from his face like water over wax paper the moment his back was turned. "Pray ensure Temperance's throat bares no great injury from her mistreatment, oh Patron of Physicians," he called over his shoulder before sauntering over to the square's statue of Wendall Phillips. Glancing at the inscription on the monument behind it, Set made a flat sound in the back of his throat and stepped into its shadow as though stepping off a tiled edge into the deep end of a pool, disappearing from view.

Sekhmet rolled her eyes as she released Miss Americana from her unyielding grip. "He shall not be far. Apologies for thy rough handling, champion," she told the patriotic paragon with a slight bow of her head. "Thy form be formidable even with another at the helm." A disc of golden sunlight sprang into being behind the goddess' head, a halo of divinity that matched the light radiating from her raised hands. "Thy injuries, too, shall be healed."

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Miss Americana backed hastily away from Sekhmet, still smiling even as she raised her hands to stave off the goddess' attentions. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm fine," she assured the glowing deity. "I'm just going to take a moment to get my bearings. I'm sure there are other injured people who need the attention far more." Matching words to actions, she found her way over to the nearest bench and sat down, still looking slightly dazed, but mostly unharmed. Her eyes followed Caradoc for a moment, as though she'd get up and go to him, but instead she pulled out a cell phone and began making calls. Early spin was vital in public relations messes like this. 

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Terrifica looked at the policewoman, her expression unreadable. “Now she is free, and thus doomed.†She took in a breath and let it out in a slight sigh. “The idea of a final punishment, to be meted out for the rest of eternity…such a thing is anathema to me. There comes a point where further punishment ceases to resemble justice and instead resembles vengeance. Vengeance is the refuge of the ignorant and the foolish. Deities of any stripe are supposed to know better. To be better.†She turned back around, her expression remaining unreadable. “Unfortunately, most of them are as flawed as the humans who worship them.†Her voice hardened. “One day I will stand before the gods that have perpetuated this…travesty in the name of good and right, and we will have words.â€Her voice softened again. “Are you unharmed, Officer? That was something of a fight.†She leaned down slightly and offered her hand. “Can you stand?â€

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With a speed that belied his bulk, the shining knight Caradoc interposed himself between Sekhmet and Terrifica - not incidentally also providing another layer between Sekhmet's magic and Miss Americana. "You are not the god behind that woman's fate. And your vengeance is not hers." It occurred to Steve that he had met few gods in his time on Earth-Prime, and had few ideas of what powers they had - would this one, with her familiar face, smell the stink of burning linen on his soul? Hear the screams of the dead as they did yet die again beneath the soul-searing fires of an Omegadrone's powerpike? Why not? He did often enough. He went on, his croaking, metallic voice inside the armor firm without the heat of anger behind it. "Save your godly wrath for the soul that sought to bind another to her will. And the dead world that made her. It was her fate to be what she was." 

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Temperance breathed a sigh once Southern Belle had passed on to... well, wherever she was going. She couldn't tell if the sigh was out of frustration, or relief. On some level, she felt a little angry that she had tried to comfort the dying woman, only for Set to give her both barrels of the truth. On the other hand... Set had said everything she had wanted to say, even if it wasn't what she should have said.

I wonder how many times that's won over the girls.

But still, she knew Set - even if he thought she knew him better than she actually did - and the god wasn't exactly one to slink away from the site of a hard-fought victory, especially when it might end up trending on Twitter. She nodded to the others and said, "I'll be back shortly; I just wish to make sure that fight didn't stir anything up in the realms invisible." She took to the air, scanning the area. Eventually, she found Set on the edge of the Boston Harbor Hotel, a grand, stately arch looking out over the waterfront. She landed next to him, parking the ice sled somewhere where it would melt less quickly. For once, to her utter shock, the god looked somewhat glum.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

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With neither Miss Americana nor Temperance keen to receive the benefits of her healing abilities, Sekhmet allowed her sun disk to fade away, not coincidentally allowing her less benevolent aspects to rise to the fore at Terrifica's pontificating. Only Caradoc's timely intervention stopped her from delivering a wordless but emphatic rebuttal to the immodest scholar's disrespect, instead giving the Mistress of Dread a moment to let out a hissing breath and grind her pronounced canines against her lower teeth. "...very well, armored one. An Eye of Ra may practice patience as easily as decisiveness. Thee, mortal," she added, the one golden eye visible behind her raven black hair glaring at Terrifica like a magnifying glass above an anthill, "speak as one of the betrayer's faceless electric flock, thinking never to truly face the targets of thy invective in the flesh. Know that a goddess of vengeance stands ready when thee would 'have thy words'." The snarl as she turned away made it clear that she intended to let her claws do most of the talking.

* * * * *

One knee under his chin while his other leg hung over the side of the building, Set glanced over at Temperance with a weak attempt at a smirk when she spoke. The godling's grey eyes seemed tinged slightly with red, though his face was dry and he looked away soon enough, speaking unusually quietly. "My elder self, you know, he could truly brood. Mastered the slouching atop a throne look, riveting stuff." Without warning, one of his arms blurred into motion, punching the rooftop next to him hard enough that one his knuckles left a trickle of blood in its wake. Overhead, thunder rumbled. "Tis more of a tantrum, though, aye? Hardly becoming. I blame hormones." With a bitter little laugh, Set got to his feet, barefoot now with his toes sticking out over the edge of the roof as he looked downward, wind tossing his brick red dreadlocks about. He paused for a few moments before continuing. "His petty temper, though, oh, that I received. All the bubbling blackness, so truly deserving of a second chance."

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Terrifica had a great many things to say in response to Sekhmet. Things would only enrage the lioness further. Things that would greatly please that dark voice in the back of Terrifica’s mind that told her she was the smartest, rightest, bestest person who had ever lived and anyone who couldn’t acknowledge that should die. Preferably immediately. She wanted to say all of them. She stood up and opened her mouth to say them. Then, in her mind’s eye, she saw Stan. Her husband. Voice of reason, paradoxically enough. He wasn’t the whole reason she stifled that portion of herself, but he helped when her own self restraint failed. She sighed.

“No. My quarrel is not with you, lioness. I am…many things, but a coward who hides behind her words is not among them. I meant exactly what I said. One day I will stand face to face with Ra, Odin, Zeus, and all the rest, and they will explain to me why all of the pain and suffering that they have allowed, enabled, or directly caused is necessary. I will not accept-I will NEVER accept-that there are things beyond my limited mortal understanding. I am the most intelligent human being who has ever lived. There is NOTHING I cannot understand, given time. Until that day, I will continue to believe that there are better ways to solve problems other than the direct application of force. If wanting to understand why gods, who should know better, can cause the very same suffering that human do is a mortal sin then I am indeed a sinner. If questioning why the gods do what they do is heresy, then I am a heretic.â€

Her hands had curled into tight fists at her sides and she abruptly shut up. She visibly shook with the effort of restraining that line of thought. “I am a woman of peace. I solve my problems with my mind and my words. I do not see a bank robber and immediately think I need to punch him in the face for his offense. Note how I only struck one blow today, yet spoke many more times. And that one blow was to save the ice wielder from having her throat crushed.†She paused. “I do apologize for offending you, lioness. My words came out harsher in my anger than I intended. And I apologize to you as well, Caradoc, for having to intervene. You have my thanks.†She turned and started walking away, before her mouth-the traitorous thing-said anything else.

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On her bench nearby, Miss Americana hung up her phone and scoffed quietly at Terrifica's assertions of unparalleled intelligence. True, some people did have hidden depths, but she'd be very surprised if the excitable heroine were the most intelligent person in Boston this afternoon, much less ever on Earth. But her internal servos were finally done coming back online and self-checking, so Miss A had other important things to attend to. Like getting home for a lot of security upgrades. 

 

Rising from her seat, she rolled her neck and cracked her knuckles to make sure everything was working, then walked over to where Caradoc, Sekhmet and Terrifica were standing. "Thank you, all of you, for your timely intervention," she told them. "I'm not sure exactly what happened, but it was... overwhelming. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't been there to curb my impulses." She looked at the threesome. "Does anyone know how Lady Liberty is doing?"

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"Oh my god..." Leaning against her husband, babies in her arms, Elizabeth Walton-Wright felt a feeling of perfect joy that was every bit as wonderful as the surprise double-birth had been painful. "Look at you, my little surprises!" She smiled down at her daughters, their faces wrinkly and heads pointed like the newborn natural-born children, big baby blue eyes staring up at nothing in particular. "Who would have thought that with the best super-science doctors in the world, there was a second one of you hiding in there the whole time?" At least those same doctors had gotten the preliminaries out of the way fast, cutting both cords and washing the babies off of bathwater and other fluids alike - letting the new family get close together as they should. 

 

She beamed at Trevor, tears in her eyes reflected in her husband's. Surprise child or not, their age or not, this was everything they'd wanted for so very long. Everyone had cleared out for a moment, giving them time for skin-to-skin contact as a family. "We don't even have two names!" 

 

"I think we should still call this one Madison," he finally said towards their first-born, who had a head of soft black baby hair that looked like it might one day resemble her mother's. "It's a good name. And this one?" He pointed to the other, a red-faced little girl with a bald head who began wailing in that high-pitched, inhuman shriek only little babies have. 

 

"Oh, little one, are you hungry? Poor baby..." As she soothed her youngest daughter, whose little legs were kicking up a storm inside her blanket, Elizabeth said, "Let's call her...let's call her Mary." 

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"She has not been at her classes at the, uh, ye FLSCH," croaked Caradoc. He had figured out what spirit this must have been from all the conversation - and only now realized the danger that America's other star-spangled champion might have been in. "She is very great with child." He stepped away to try and call the League on the cellphone Gina had implanted in a functioning patch of flesh near his right ear - one of the few organic places on his body that remained intact while his armor was deployed. It had the advantage of allowing him to speak normally, even while disguised as Caradoc, or for that matter when wearing his armor at all. 

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It felt silly that Temperance should have to remember that Set was so old. But he was ancient - not just in the sense of "had existed before the Internet," but of the realms of myth and legend. "All the way upstairs," as the spirits referred to it. And with that existence - both in the time of myth and the time before the Internet - came all the deeds people associated with him, a good deal of them foul. She could imagine what he might feel like, giving into those deeds just once.

"None of us are saints," she said, "god or mortal. What you said to her... was what I wanted to say. We all want to do these things at times. There's that thing inside us that speaks up, though. Tells us to think about what's greater, what's best, what doesn't hurt others so much. The problem is, sometimes it speaks up a little too late. And all we can do is try to clean up."

She realized that this was going in the hopeful direction she wanted it to... but there was a point here, damnit. "What I'm trying to say is... your old self. Odds are he probably would've told Southern Belle to start running and never stop, because all the foul deeds behind her would try to catch up. The question is... would he regret it? Because, your brooding may be teenager-grade, but if you ask me, it's a lot more authentic. And it may hurt you to realize that... whatever the old Set did, there may be some of that still there. But that hurt? That shows there's something else, too. Something that can make you keep up the good work."

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Set barked a laugh in spite of himself, nose crinkling in amusement as he turned back around to face the hydrokinetic, still perilously close to the edge of the roof. "Should I ever get around to canonizing any saints, oh masked marvel, you shall be at the fore of the list. You've the walking on water bit down cold already!" The godling looked skyward, clearing his throat and suddenly reluctant to meet Temperance's eyes. "Mayhap you mistake me, however. Tis not my words to the shade of Mary Hammer which vex me. Running tis good advice, as I well know. There lies the trouble, hm?" His shoulders slumped very slightly for a moment before he very consciously squared them again, the jocularity in his voice ringing a little false for once. "The pale shadow of a monster who left kin slain and spent lives like coin, clinging desperately, pathetically to delayed judgement. Sounds a bit familiar, aye? Truly, I ought to sue, but intellectual property law can be so fickle."

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Ah. So that was it. That made somewhat more sense than where she'd been going; she couldn't believe she hadn't seen it. Temperance sat down on the ledge next to Set, looking out over the Boston Harbor. "When she came back," she said, "she seemed... committed to the old ways. Quite committed. There was the sense she'd done something wrong, but... I don't think she felt truly sorry about it until it was impressed upon her. Even then, there was defiance.

"You came into this world repentant, didn't you? You knew, on some level, that what you had done was wrong. You knew that times had changed, and that you would change with them. Mary clung to this idea of a Confederacy that treated people as chattel - it was wedded to her power, and she had trouble relinquishing that. You know what you shouldn't be anymore. There may be those that disagree with that, that think you're the same person you always were. But, if it helps... I don't think you are."

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Set opened his mouth to rebut some point but stopped mid-breath and pressed his lips closed into a thin line. After a beat he raised a pointing finger to accompany his second attempt before hesitating and stopping short again, instead placing his hands on his hips. "You know," he said finally, "tis customarily the deity who helps the mortal with the existential crisis of self-worth, as opposed to the other way around. Not that I'm complaining." Running fingers through his dreadlocks just above the scalp the godling sighed and took a seat on the edge of the rooftop. "The entire day began falling apart when I decided to wear pants," he confided huffily with a gesture to his bright crimson trousers. "I had a strappy little black number all picked out but nay, give the pants a chance, I thought. What could go wrong, I thought."

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Temperance considered it a victory that Set's thoughts had turned away from grim existentialism towards sensible fashion. Of course, she knew that this might not be the end of it. Set considered themselves to be of a kind - and, as much as it seemed unlikely a few months ago, she was starting to consider him a friend. There might be other days like this, other glimpses of roads that he'd rather not walk down. But hopefully, he might count on her to stop him from straying too far down the path.

"You can try the strappy number on the next stop on the world tour," she said. She looked back to the heart of the city. "We may want to get back towards the Aquarium, just to see if any more chaos has broken out. Or at least see the sea lions."

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"Well! Any time you desire I show a little more leg, oh well-formed wizardess, you have merely to command!" Set promised, trying a little too obviously to be amusing after the weighty subject matter of the conversation, thought the spirit of the offer was genuine. Following Temperance's gaze out into the city, tracing the scene of their battle, the godling pursed his lips. "Ought not leave Sekhmet unsupervised for too long, aye. You know she thinks she keeps me out of trouble? Tis adorable." Rising to his feet, he stretched his arms high over his head with a soft grunt before offering the masked heroine a hand and admitting, "I've never seen a sea lion, in fact."

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As Set and Temperance returned, Caradoc finished sharing his news with the others, gleaned from the cellphone game of 'tag' that had finally ended with him getting through to one of the League's emergency contact operators. "...she is delivered of two healthy girls. What a marvel." Unaccountably, the happy news seemed to be making the shining knight tense, his gleaming armored form frozen with suppressed energies as he carefully stood in place, thick metal-shod arms folded behind his back where one hand gripped the other tightly. "Perhaps childbirth was what forced the spirit free. I have little experience with yon world of the supernatural," he confessed, tilting his head towards the now-recovered Miss Americana. "Are you well, my lady?" 

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"As well as could be expected, I imagine," Miss A replied calmly, though her eyes when she looked at Caradoc were not quite so serene. She wore the same look of suppressed anxiety that he saw in Gina every time he pushed her to take a walk around the block or go on a midnight fast-food run, the one that said that all she wanted was to be home and possibly under her bed as quickly as humanly possible. "Hopefully the Spirit of Liberty has gone back to Lady Liberty, or at least found a more suitable host. I don't think it agreed with me at all. I think I will probably have a checkup from one of the doctors at ArcheTech, just to be on the safe side. Caradoc, would you mind escorting me back?" 

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"With pleasure, my lady." Caradoc reached over and touched Miss Americana's arm; all the physical contact that he knew Gina would tolerate before all these people. Later there would come more; once he had flown back to Freedom City (probably atop the robot itself) - but not yet. "Set, Sekhmet, Temperance, Terrifica, thank you for your help today. We will meet again." And that, with all those words, was more than he might ever have said beneath his own face; and certainly more than he would have with the armor of an Omegadrone visible. Perhaps there were advantages to these false faces after all - an unsettling thought that he put away to continue this conversation with the others.They had done far more for Steve, and for Gina, than they could ever let them know.

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Terrifica had only strode a few feet away. She smiled at Caradoc. “I look forward to it, Caradoc. I’m finding that it’s always interesting working with you.†She resisted the urge to take a shot at Sekhmet. That is not a constructive comment and you WILL keep it to yourself. “Look me up if you’re ever in town again. I’ll show you around the local underworld lairs.†That…could be misconstrued. “The rest of you are just as welcome to stop by, of course.†She took a few steps away from the group, then turned. “Set, if you really are that Set…I would very much appreciate getting to speak frankly with you.†Mostly about how one restrains the inevitable immense impatience with this world of ignorant idiots. I swear, if I have to deal with one more so called hero with more muscles than brains or heart I don’t know what I’ll do. She collapsed her staff and returned it to her belt. “Farewell for now.†She walked to the street and a motorcycle. I don’t know how you did it, but thank you, Stan She got on, started it up, and rode away.

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