Hutchins Field,

10 km from the City of Metroville

'Nick, get the last bag off of the crate and put it on this trolley.' Chris shouted back to his son who was struggling with a large suitcase.

'Righto, pater… and you aren't helping because..?'

'Knees's still giving me jip.'

'Riiight…'

Chris lit a cigar and looked up to see a rather attractive lady jogging up to him.

'Helen Parr, deputy station controller… well, at the weekends.' She shook his hand.

'Chris E. Worthy, aeronautics engineer.'

'Ah, another member of the scientific community, and with an impressive accent, too.'

Chris' chest swelled, but he feigned irritation. 'Yes, it might have something to do with the fact I'm British… you'll find my son sounds much the same.'

Helen smiled warmly. 'Sorry, I didn't mean any offence.'

'None taken.'

Nick dumped the last bag onto the trolley and extended a hand to Helen. Though only sixteen, he was slightly taller than her. 'A pleasure, I'm Nick, uh, Chris' partner in crime.'

Helen took his hand and winked at him, noting the gloves. 'Nice to meet you, I see you indulge in a bit of hero worship as well. My son is dreadful for it, all the costumes…'

Nick blushed, but Chris intervened before he could say anything. 'Um, yeah… he's into the comics, but he really loves the old news reports. Where did they all go? Ha, ha… ha.'

They stood in silence for a moment before Chris looked at his watch and started towards a waiting hire car.

'Sorry, Helen, but we must be off… got a new house to inhabit. Ordered the car in advance, too, so we're going to see the sights. Thanks for the warm welcome.'

'No problem, you must come to dinner at ours some time!'

'OK, we know where to find you!'

Helen waved them off as they drove along the dirt track leading to the paved road into town.

'Nobody gets it…' Said Nick, suddenly grave.

'Gets what?'

'My gloves… I'm always a fanboy or a cripple… or some kind of freak…'

Chris just shook his head, not knowing what to say. Partially mesmerised, Nick took off his right glove and stared at his hand. Arcs or electricity jumped from fingertip to fingertip. He didn't notice the car's dashboard, which was going berserk, lights flashing and dials spinning randomly. Chris noticed, and he also noticed the car's steering going awry.

'By Jove, Nick! Put your glove back on! Are you trying to get us killed?'

'Sorry…' Said Nick, before slumping into his seat, arms folded.

Atomic Parks Suburban Housing,

Metroville,

USA, 7/12/1975, 12:34 pm

'That's the last crate.' Stated Chris with relief, dropping the metal container onto the floor of his and his son's new, sizeable cellar.

Chris was an excellent scientist but in many wayshis son surpassed his own technical knowledge; as such, Nick was tasked with setting up their super-gear as fast as Chris could bring it back from the docks. The cellar already looked less like a basement and more like a headquarters. Two glass tubes held their battered, moth-eaten uniforms, banks of electronic components lined the walls and Chris noted that Nick had already assembled the mechanical workstation. He was tinkering with his grapple-deployer, his pride and joy. It allowed him to follow his father to most places, but Stuntman's gift of flight often took him high above the tops of skyscrapers.

Chris stretched his back and collapsed into one of the teams comfy chairs. 'I like what you've done with the place, son.'

Nick smiled and exhaled sharply has he did when working. 'Yeah, we have more space here than we did back home.' He finished tightening a screw and placed the grapple into a desk draw before getting up and opening the last crate. 'Oh, groovy,' he beamed, 'the sensor and view-screen equipment. Uh, I'd best leave this, I'll need to rig up some aerials on the roof.' He indicated "up" with his thumb.

'Goodo.' Chris squinted at his uniform. 'Um, where's my cape?'

Nick rolled his eyes. 'Please, that made you look extremely unfashionable – not to mention it's dangerous!'

'Hey, remember I'm the aeronautics tech! I know full well what a turbo-jet is capable of… besides, if I got sucked in the bird would come off worse.' Chris was referring to his secondary power. Being super, he wastougher than normal people,but he also had the ability to strengthen his body tissues to withstand immense punishment – titanium-skin he called it. Nick called it bones of endo-steel, muscles of reinforced diamond monofilament, and an epidermis of cubic boron nitride. Unfortunately, years of taking advantage of this power made him susceptible to aches and pains.

Chris got to his feet and moved towards his uniform.

'What are you doing?' Nick asked without even looking up.

'I was thinking of going for a little spin-'

'Well, you aren't!' His son cut him off, scowling. 'I don't want you going anywhere until I have the tracker set up. Oh yeah, that reminds me…' He pulled a chewed 2H pencil from behind his ear and jotted some notes down. 'As I was saying, remember the last time you went for a little spin? "Twice around Scotland" you said. Came back two days later and told me Reykjavik was lovely that time of year…'

Realising that he hadn't been paying attention, Nick whipped his head round and saw the empty uniform case. 'Daaaaaaad!' He yelled, then heard the front door slam.

'You git, you git, you git…' He chanted while sprinting upstairs. Running out onto the front lawn just in time for the sonic boom as his father disappeared over the horizon, he looked into the sky with his hand shielding his eyes. 'AH, YOU RUDDY GIMP!' He shouted at the top of his lungs, then hung his head. Before going inside he noticed something on the pavement. Looking up he found a small kid on a tricycle sucking a lollypop.

Nick scratched the back of his head. 'Yup, US air force always testing new planes… yup…'

The kid looking incredulous, well, as far as a six year old could.

Nick whistled. 'OK, how much chocolate will it take to keep you quiet?'

Gazer-Beam Memorial Falls,

Metroville State Park,

USA, 7/12/1975, 1:45 pm

A scream resonated above the roaring waterfall, splitting the air and drawing the attention of the tourists on the observation deck.

'Help! Please!'

A young girl was clinging for dear life to a fallen tree, but the fast moving current was dragging it, and her, slowly away from the safety of the riverbank. Every second passing brought her closer to the edge.

'Won't anybody do something?' Shouted the onlookers, though none of them was willing to go in, knowing it was fruitless.

'I'll get her, I'm a good swimmer!' Hollered a deep voice. The man was removing his jacket and the next moment had flung himself into the water, arms swinging wildly. His bravery was misplaced, however, and although he fought valiantly, he was swept backwards.

Suddenly, there was a flash of orange, and the man was no longer in the water. He was being carried high into the air by what appeared to by a flaming dart, which swiftly doubled back and dropped the foolish man onto the observation platform. Now the blur stopped moving, becoming a begoggled person hovering several feet above the water's surface.

The figure scanned the river and spotted the girl. She had tired and released her grip on the tree trunk, and was now being careening over the rapids towards the flying hero.

With a whistling howl, the figure plunged towards the girl, scooping her up in a flurry of water droplets. Again turning around, the hero landed softly onto the deck and placed the girl in the recovery position backed by the cheers of the crowd.

'Who is it?'

'Never seen him before…'

'The government didn't repeal the law… did they?'

'Whoever it is, hooray for him!'

The hero whispered into the girls' ear whilst her mother pushed through the crowd. 'Sweetheart… wake up…' He rested his head on her chest and listened intently. 'H'm, she's still alive…'

The mother collapsed at her side and started crying. 'Oh my baby… so cold.' She looked at the hero. 'Thank you so much, thank you…'

'She needs to get to a hospital. I'll get her there quickly. Phone a taxi and get to Metroville General.'

The man picked the girl up and got ready to leap off into the abyss.

'Wait! What's your name, before you go?'

In response, the man jumped, disappearing from view. The crowd gasped but then applauded again as the flying man shrieked up and over them, yelling: 'My name – is Stuntman!'

A visored figure in white stared at the proceedings from an overlooking hill. He touched his ear and spoke in a rich afro-american accent. 'Breaker-breaker… this is Iceman to Big Daddy. Rescue stolen, repeat, stolen by a NEW super. Never seen him before.'

"Iceman" waited for a response and was alarmed when the brush separated behind him revealing a literal ten-ton truck of a man in red spandex.

'Frozone, why use the radio? I was right there.'

'Man, Incredible, don't scare me like that! So, you saw?'

'I did… I don't know who that guy is, but I want to find out. You know, I saw him a while back, on assignment across the pond. I'll put Vi onto the case – she'll keep a hidden eye on him.'

Frozone got to his feet. 'When are you going to tell her that she's got a new assignment?'

'I'll draw up a plan of action over the week and brief her onFriday night. I'm not looking forward to it... she hates recon duty.'