Hutchins Airfield,

Metroville,

USA, 9/12/1975, 10:06 am

Nick watched from out of his window as his father signalled to Mrs. Parr. She shouted something down to him and sprinted back into the control tower. Chris started walking forward again, reaching the ground floor door just as it was opened for him.

He looked over his shoulder and saw Violet. She was sitting bolt upright as far way from him as she could get in such an enclosed space, with her shoulders hunched defensively.

'Don't do that, Vi. It's not helping your burn.'

She relaxed her shoulders but didn't sit back, instead staring at the car-floor. 'I'm really sorry about earlier, in your room…'

'Why, what happened?' Nick asked earnestly, trying to alleviate Violet's discomfort.

She winced. 'I didn't really know what I was doing.'

You knew what you doing, thought Nick, but he again said something to ease the tension. 'Don't worry. The shock must have scrambled your circuits.' He leant over and tapped her on the head. 'My fault.'

Violet smiled. 'Yeah, must've been something like that.'

The car door opened suddenly, and the torso of Helen Parr jammed itself into the vehicle. She squeezed Violet tightly producing a small yelp from her daughter. 'Honey, oh my you're hurt!'

'No, mom, well, only a little…' Violet lowered her voice and growled into Helen's ear. 'Embarrassing…'

Helen frowned at her daughter and hugged her again, this time not so tightly. 'I was worried when you weren't here on time… you're usually so punctual.'

'So I ran into some difficulty... I was well looked after, mom.' Violet tried to wriggle free of her mother's grip.

Helen looked first at Nick, then over her shoulder at Chris. 'I think we should all go inside and talk about this over coffee.' She helped Violet out of the car and Nick slid across the back seat, getting out afterwards. 'I have a lot of questions for you two.' She said to Nick and his dad in an inquisitive tone.

'And we have many for you.' Replied Chris.

It had been over an hour since the Worthy's had returned Violet to her rightful place after the previous "excitement". Despite her earlier trepidation towards Chris and Nick, Helen Parr had warmed to them after getting over the worry for her eldest child. Violet had just gone to get changed into something more suitable, and had returned from the staff restroom dressed in worn blue jeans and a pale pink shirt. They fitted far better than Nick's loaners.

'Here, thanks Nick.' She said, handing over a black bin bag with the stand-in clothes inside. 'It feels better to be in something that doesn't require twine to keep on.'

'It would seem you look good whatever you wear, Vi.' Nick replied in a deliberately harmless fashion. Violet still blushed slightly.

Helen pulled out a chair at the old card table and Violet sat down in it with a sigh. 'But, Chris.' She began. 'I still don't quite understand why you came over to the states in the first place.'

'I had to move because of my job.' Chris replied.

'Aeronautics?' Helen prompted.

'Aye.' Chris took a sip of his black coffee and went on. 'I used to work for a firm in Manchester called Blazer Air-Systems. Eventually, however, the Mirage Industries juggernaught encroached upon Blazer's territory, and I was laid off in the impending budget cuts to try and stay afloat.' He rubbed his stubble thoughtfully. 'And so, I took some of my designs and "started batting for the other team", so to speak. It took them a while to bite, but when they did the folks at Mirage were very keen to develop my research, and I was put in control of a facility in eastern England.'

Helen nodded. 'So we come back to that engine you designed?'

'Yes, yes we do. I spent a lot of company money developing the VASIMR drive, and after seeing the results of the first tests, Mirage herself displayed an interest in getting the engine, and myself, over the pond for "further development". Anyway, as I said, I believe it was at the final test, when the plane went out of control, that Mirage pegged me for a super.'

'My husband probably helped her come to that conclusion.' Said Helen with a tinge of guilt.

Chris laughed. 'It's no problem, in fact, I think that Mirage is trying to encourage me and Nick in heroic pursuits.'

'How so?'

'Well, the suits made for us and our powers… then there's-'

'Then there's the car.' Nick cut in.

'Yes, thanks lad. The Jaguar outside, I've never seen anything like it… Never mind how we got hold of it, from what I learnt at Fernton only one corporation on Earth has the technological advantage to be able to put something like that together.'

Nick peered at Violet, and then adjusted his gaze to focus on Helen. 'But you say you've had dealings with her before now?'

'Yes. She was Syndrome's right hand gal while the culling was happening, a year back now.' Helen grimaced, disturbed at how closely her family came to destruction. 'But with mine and my husbands testimony at the trials, she was cut a deal by the government. And so…'

'She took over Syndrome's business, so to speak?'

'Yeah, got it.' Helen got up and took the empty coffee cups away to the canteen.

'Government…' Began Nick, his mind whirring with thought. 'Syndrome was a complete nutcase, and she was deep into the culling idea with him. I'm willing to bet that your information was only a small part of what started Mirage Industries. US army's been getting some slick new tech, if the BBC's reporting is accurate…h'm…' He started scribing the table with his index finger. 'So, your government gets new presents, not to mention a close partner to call on in time of need. But then there's the super angle.'

'What super angle?' Asked Violet before Helen could comment.

'Well, after the culling, there were precious few superheroes left in the states. Your family, maybe a couple of others. For a while now, the papers back in Blighty have been bringing in news that supers across Europe have moved to the US… Europe has always been a safer part of the globe, I guess.' Nick raised his eyebrows and scanned each face at the table. 'You can all put two and two together.'

'So.' Said Helen. 'The white house calls in support from overseas, utilising Mirage's extensive intelligence network, as well as their own of course. When they get here, Mirage assists again, providing uniforms, transport, gadgetry, whatever the supers need.'

'Bingo.' Whispered Nick, his father shook his head.

'Clever sods… very clever.'

Violet was fiddling with a business card on the table, but then opened her eyes a slight amount wider, looking at Nick. 'Hey, what was that thing Dekker gave you in physics yesterday?'

'The card…' Nick gasped, then fumbled in his trouser pocket. 'Clockstopper… now I get it.'

'Get what..? is this for me?' Chris asked, taking the card.

'Yeah. Sorry dad, I forgot to give it to you… wow, that was really stupid of me.'

Chris scratched his head whilst looking at the embossed writing. 'Clockstopper, that name rings a bell.'

'It should.' Nick chuckled. 'He's that "super" from merry Deutschland.' Helen caught the inflection in his voice, which told her they were not talking about an innately gifted hero.

Chris clicked his fingers. 'Yes! I know what you mean, the guy with the robotic suit. He is really cool... when he stopped that rebel cell in Munich, that coverage was the best. With the jet-pack, and the machine guns under the arm!' His voice had accelerated, and at this last comment he extended a fist over the table and started jerking it in time with cannon noises. Chris saw the others giving him odd glances, and calmed down, looking at Nick with an impressed grin. 'Robo-guy's your physics teacher?'

Nick nodded but before he could reply Violet spoke up again. 'Wait a second...' She drawled, moving her eyes up from where she was studying the plastic veneer and looking each super searchingly in the eyes. 'I know we like to think that détente is bringing an end to this stalemate with the Rooskies, but with all the supers gone from Europe, what'll happen if the red bear decides to roll over the border into the West?'

Nick sighed. 'Open conflict, nuclear warfare, the end of the world as we know it…' He spread his arms wide and puffed up his cheeks. 'Kaboom!'

Chris hit him. 'Stop encouraging Vi, it'll never come to that. Brezhnev's no fool, he knows what provoking the West will bring.'

Nick shrugged. 'He's not going to be in power for ever…'

Helen was about to add her thoughts on the matter, which mostly involved denial of any Cold War in the first place, but a phone started to ring from upstairs. 'Ah, excuse me. I've got a good idea of who that is.'

She got up and jogged up the small flight of steps onto the next floor. Chris was staring at the card again, and Nick looked over at Violet with a smile.

'Hey, Vi. Good call, I'd never have thought of it myself.'

She blushed again, and mumbled back. 'I just like to cover all the angles, thanks.'

The phone stopped ringing and each ear tuned into Helen's end of the conversation. 'Bob, honey … yes, she's back … there was a small problem bu- … oh no, no she's OK…' Helen laughed at something. 'Always on the ball, honey … no, she's got us more than that … oh, you just wait. She brought them back!' She stopped and mumbled something inaudible. 'I agree completely … so that's fine, then? … Excellent, I'll tell them … love you, too.'

Helen came running back downstairs with a huge grin. 'Chris, Nick, you are both invited to dine with us tonight at ours! My husband will be cooking for us, a Christmas barbeque.'

Nick licked his lips, but Chris remained impassive. 'Oh no, we couldn't possibly impose ourselves… we barely know you, and-'

'Nonsense.' Helen sat back down. 'You both look after my daughter after her accident, not to mention the fact that both of you are clearly well skilled supers. It would be our pleasure.'

'Well, in that case.' Chuckled Chris. 'We reluctantly accept!'

Kiev class "Prokhorovka",

In dock, Archangelsk,

Northwest USSR, 9/12/1975, 11:15 am

Alexei Adamov stood just outside the bridge of his mammoth aircraft carrier, scanning the steel waters below him. Since the ship was commissioned in June of this same year, he had been tasked with putting her through her paces. Now he was her commander, and it pained him to see such a fine vessel waiting in port for orders that would likely never come. He finished his cigarette and tossed it away, preparing to light another before a voice called him from the hatch.

'Comrade Captain?' It was his first officer, Androtzhsky. 'You have a telephone call waiting for you in your ready-room, Captain. The gentleman said he was from the Naval Office, and had to speak with you right away.'

Alexei sighed, his breath tearing away in white rags. 'Very well, Androtzhsky, I am coming.'

He stepped inside his tiny ready-room and wound up his phone, placing the receiver to a chilled ear. The harsh voice on the other end of the line, one that he never thought he would hear again, almost made him drop the device.

'It has been arranged, Alexei.' The voice said. 'You leave the day after tomorrow, on the eleventh.'

Alexei slumped into his leather chair. 'Mr. Rasputin… how did you accomplish such a feat?'

'I have my contacts in the Navy, Captain. After a bit of gentle, persuasion, they were extremely happy to see you out of dock and into action.'

Alexei scratched behind the collar of his greatcoat, where the heat of inside was making it itch. 'And what action would this be?'

Rasputin dropped his tone to a growl. 'Do not stall for time, my friend. You are playing with fire, and if you are reluctant to undertake your mission for me, there are dozens of other young, idealistic, and frustrated naval officers willing to take your place.' Rasputin paused. 'Do not think that you are indispensable to me.'

Alexei swallowed hard, his mouth dry. 'I am prepared to do this for the Motherland, Rasputin, I am faithful.'

'I know.' The evil voice cackled. 'If we are agreed, I would encourage to begin preparations for departure. My associate,or perhaps"political officer", will arrive in town tomorrow with the final details of the mission. Do not let me down, Alexei, and I will see to it that you are rewarded. Disobey me, and…'

'Do not worry, sir. I understand... Goodbye, Comrade.' Alexei let the receiver drop from his hand into it's holder, and he shakily poured himself a shot of vodka. He downed it, and felt warm ignorance spreading in his belly. Getting up, he opened his door onto the bridge and addressed his men.

'Comrades, we have new orders. We leave on the eleventh!' The bridge crew cheered for joy, glad to be back on campaign. 'Begin preparing the vessel – I want supplies, aircraft, crew, etcetera… everything ready by tomorrow. Our political officer will be here by then with our official orders, and I want us to make a good impression. Get to work, Comrades.' His men snapped into action, transmitting orders to all parts of the mighty Prokhorovka. At the bow, Alexei noticed the hammer and sickle being hoisted into position. He sighed and pointed at his second in command. 'Mr. Androtzhsky, get me the flight deck. I wish to talk to Podpolkovnik Adamov at once.'

Androtzhsky drew nearer to his captain. 'Sir, with all respect, your son will be busy readying his planes... his pilots…'

'He can spare a few minutes – get him. That is an order.'