DVANDOM _____ ______ _____ _______ THE CENTURY PACT PART 10 of 12 [ ]__ [ ] [] [ ]__)) [ ] ` [ ]__ #82 - "Born To Be Run Outta Town" [ ] [ ] [] [ ] \\ [ ] [ ] copyright 1997 Dave Van Domelen [_] [_]__[] [_] \\ [_]___/ [_]____ -------]==+ <*> +==[------- [cover shows Macroman, his head hung low in sorrow, slowly walking past the "You Are Entering Keystroke City" sign on his way out of town. In the background, a billboard proclaiming "Keystroke City, Home Of Macroman" is being painted over.] CONTINUITY NOTE: I don't normally do these, but given what's going to happen in the next few issues, and the fact it may take a few weeks for me to finish them all, I figure it's a good idea to make a statement up front on continuity. The events of #82-84 (and possibly 85) take place over the course of less than two weeks in late spring. If you don't want to bother writing about how they affect your characters, you can simply skip over a couple of weeks or have your characters be out of touch for that period of time. }-> "Is he done?" Kat asked. "I think so," Squidman answered. "Good. It's hard to sneak around with hairy great continuity notices blaring out all around you," Kat frowned. "Don't worry. Anyone around this time of night is likely to be an extra, they can't hear authorial comments like that." "I hope you're right. I've broken into places with security that makes NORAD look like a treehouse, it'd be awfully embarrassing to be caught trying to break into a trucking company office," Kat noted, picking the lock on the door so fast that a casual observer would have thought it was unlocked in the first place. "After you, there's no sensors," she added. The pair walked carefully down the hall, pausing occasionally before entering the field of view of a security camera so that Kat could set up a jamming field that would make them invisible to the monitors. "We might still show up on the tapes, I had to work fast with primitive materials, no offense," Kat added. "None taken. And as long as we don't give them reason to think someone broke in, the tapes won't be checked before they get taped over. Here's the office," he whispered, motioning Kat forward to break in. While no slouch in the B&E department himself, Squidman recognized that she had a lifetime of experience in this field. With a soft click, they gained access to the managerial office of Hunter Red's executive secretary. Hunter Red himself had no office that they could get information about publicly, nor did they think it likely that searching his office would yield much anyway. All signs pointed to "Hunter Red" being Jack Hunter, aka Orion of the Constellation Gang. He was the front man, he wasn't a businessman. The secretary would have the real lowdown on how the business was run. "You take the computers, I'll take the hardcopy," Squidman motioned to the IDM terminal [Infernal Damnable Machines - Ed.] on the desk while he picked the lock on the first filing cabinet with a tool hidden in his cowl. Now, in real life, skill at an advanced input device doesn't automatically confer skill at a more primitive input device. After all, most of you readers are pretty good with the keyboard, but would be utterly lost using punchcards. But thanks to the Star Trek IV Principle, those used to voice or even cybernetic interface with computers are automatically gifted with 200wpm typing ability, error-free. Kat put this stupid plot device to good use, quickly gaining access to the deepest levels of Hunter Red Trucking's computer systems. "Hmmm," she hmmmed. "Anything interesting?" Squidman asked, looking up from a file marked "DO NOT READ IF A COP OR NET.HERO." "Well, depends on what you mean by interesting. If we wanted to nail Hunter Red on racketeering charges, there's enough here to send a lot of people to jail for a very long time, presuming any of it was admissible in court," Kat noted, her fingers continuing to fly over the keyboard. "But it all stops at Coppermane's old lieutenants. Nothing even connects to him, much less a larger organization of that type which must be behind this all. Anything yet at your end?" "Same story. If the DA ever got into this room legally, he'd faint from the sheer joy of it all," Squidman remarked, holding up a pistol in a plastic wrapper, obviously a murder weapon in some case. "But none of it's admissible, and with the groundswell of public opinion both against net.heroes and for Hunter Red as savior of Sig.ago, I don't think it would be worth it to try and use any of this," he swept his arm over the piles of damning but mundane evidence. "It probably wouldn't stick, we'd have tipped our hand, and everyone would probably hate us more." "Blast," Kat muttered, staring at the screen. "What?" "This is an isolated system, all information transfer is by diskette. I was hoping to leave a Trojan Horse behind to let me know if anything interesting did turn up, but that won't work. Not without installing new hardware, which I think they'd get a little suspicious of." "He probably uses a laptop for email and network, and took that home with him," Squidman deduced. "Yeah. Well, if you haven't found anything, let's finish up before this turns into the Adventures of Computer Systems Co-Worker," Kat remarked, backing out of the system and erasing all traces. Squidman stepped over to the phone and pried it open, placing an electronic device inside before closing it up. "This is a decoy, in case we do something or did something to tip them off and they search for bugs. This," he added, placing a small plastic blob onto the side of the currently- jammed security camera, "is not a decoy. We should be able to tap into their security camera system later if we need to." "Passive, right?" "Right. Won't be detectable until we activate it remotely, unless they think to frisk the cameras." After a quick check to make sure nothing was out of place, they headed back for the garage in back, where they'd broken in through. Street entrances usually have more sensitive and harder to fool security on them, because they don't have to survive the rumbling of trucks passing by all day. "Someone's spotted us," Kat whispered. "You sure?" Squidman asked. "Hold it right there!" shouted a voice echoing across the half-full garage. They turned to face the owner of the voice. It was John Q. Smith, the man they knew as Shane Boxer, rebel from the future who swapped his mind with that of a no-name extra from the present in an attempt to prevent DeFacto V from coming to exist [see Dvandom Force #46-48 - Ed.]. His face was set in a stern mask of anger at his turf being invaded by strangers, but briefly faded into a "play along" expression before hardening again. Kat and Squidman exchanged glances, realizing that their cloaking jammer was useless now, and that it was best to go along with it. "Sorry, citizen, but your employer's a crook and a murderer, we're collecting evidence to bring him to justice," Squidman said in his best "righteous hero" voice. "Oh, and you're NOT criminals?" Smith mocked. "Last I checked, breaking and entering without a warrant was illegal. You net.heroes seem to think you're above the law, but you're not. I'm putting you under citizen's arrest!" Smith walked over until he was practically nose-to-mask with Squidman. "Now, do you come quietly, or do I have to rough you up?" Kat was glad for the mask that covered her smirking expression as she stifled a giggle. "Sir, please don't interfere in the process of justOOOF!" Squidman finished less than heroically as Smith plowed into him, smashing both against the cinderblock wall. Squidman felt Smith's hand slip something into his utility belt and mentally nodded. Time to make this look convincing. "HAI!" Squidman shouted, throwing Smith off and towards a nearby truck. "Should we drop you off downtown with the evidence, sir? As an accomplice?" Regaining his footing, Smith replied, "The only one dropping here is you!" Then, pounding his fist against his chest, he triggered the blinding flare of light that signaled his change. Silvery metal flowed out of his pores and coated him head to toe, and gold accents coalesced on his wrists, calves and chest. Charging, Smith narrowly missed Squidman and put a deep dent in the cinderblock. Kat swiped at him with her forcefield claws, but the small rents they made in his silvery skin sealed almost instantly. He swatted at her, her costume going rigid at the point of impact as it redistributed the energy. Kat staggered back, making a big show of being more hurt than she was. Too late, Smith realized why she had been putting on the show, as a ten-tentacled Squidrang fastened itself to his face, blinding him. Had he need of breath in this form, he would also have been choking. "Come on, he's not as important as what we found, let's get out of here," Squidman hissed, and the two fled out through an easily-opened door before Smith could pull the sticky projectile off his metal skin. Smith ran out after them, but they were long gone into the night.... -------]==+ <*> +==[------- [This entire scene depicts a segment on C-SPIN (Congressional Self Promotion Internet Network). The camera focuses on Rep. John V. BASICh, R-Ohio, as he addresses Congress.] "The bill before us is one of the most important this body has considered since the Republican Revolution was derailed by malicious attacks by the press," the congressman said while slight guffawing could be heard from off-camera. "More important even than dealing with flood relief for the Oh.io Valley and the upper Midwest, because it concerns a threat potentially greater than any hundred-year-flood." The bluespace in the margin of the screen reads: H.R. 452 - The Federal Net.Hero Regulation Act. Sponsors - Rep John V. BASICh (R-Oh), Rep Bart E. Hack (D-VA). "You all know how several of the states and municipalities of this nation have already passed similar laws to protect themselves. Let me be clear that this is NOT a law intended to be used for rounding up net.heroes and putting them into concentration camps lorded over by giant robots which will eventually decide they can rule the world better than we can and will put everyone in the camps. That's the bill working its way through the Senate, but I'm confident that when the committee is done, the final bill will be more like the one we're voting on here today." The crawl changes to read: S. 103 - The Giant Robots To Round Up All Net.Heroes Act. Sponsor - Sen Robert X. Kelly (R-RACMX). [Note: Readers may wonder why the story's taking a somewhat goofy tone now. Such readers are directed to watch C-SPAN for a few hours...this scene will look pretty serious by comparison. - Ed.] The crawl reads: Also under consideration today, H.R. 459 - The Federal Footnote Regulation Act. [Hey! - Ed.] BASICh looked earnestly into the camera in his best "Senate Run In 2000" face. "Yes, net.heroes have saved us time and time again. But they have also endangered us time and time again. When one of their own goes rogue, he inevitably wreaks great havoc on the surroundings before being brought to his senses or brought down. Those of you with access to information that national security doesn't allow me to broadcast on the air will know of several examples of rogue net.heroes. And you all know what happened when Fan.Boy went mad with power...." Silence. The crawl reads: You got me, folks. "He blew up the Net.ropolis power plant..." BASICh prodded. "Doesn't anybody remember?" An aide leaned over and whispered in the Congressman's ear. "D'oh!" he exclaimed. "I keep forgetting that Crossover Queen's kept most people from knowing about that incident. Well, suffice to say, we need to keep a closer rein on these ultra-powerful individuals, if only to have enough advance warning to get to the bomb shelters before another one turns on us. And that's what this bill will do. It will assign liasons to all active net.hero teams, require the teams get clearance before going out on missions...a formality most of the time, of course...and submit to regular psychological screening for signs of Darkening, mind control, clone-replacement or other preliminaries to a possible rampage." The crawl now reads: States having already passed similar measures - Connect.icut, Mi.sig.an, Net.Hampshire. Cities having passed such measures - Keystroke City, Housto.net, Onyx City. States debating similar measures - All remaining except Net.York and Net.Jersey, plus whatever state Net.ropolis is in at the moment. "I urge all of you to pass this bill as it is currently written, and not accept the rider proposed by the distinguished gentleman from Net.ropolis, exempting his state and all net.heroes residing therein from the law. To allow this rider would be to pull the teeth of the bill, as the vast majority of our net.heroes already operate out of Net.ropolis." [Rep. BASICh leaves the podium. Dissolve into chaotic debate over the "Net.ropolis Problem."] -------]==+ <*> +==[------- Stanley King III, the former Cheeez Arrow and owner of the mansion serving as Dvandom Force's headquarters, muted the television. "Whattamaroon," Stan sighed. "Blasted political opportunist, whipping people up into a frenzy against net.heroes to get himself on the evening news." Sidewinder did a doubletake. "Uh, no, Stan...if anything, BASICh's hedging his bets, trying to ride the tiger as carefully as he can. The sentiment's already there, yeah. And he's an opportunist, sure...he wouldn't be his party's golden boy if he wasn't. But compared to his usual froth, that was pretty tame. It almost looked like he was afraid of what he was doing, and all things considered, that's saying something." "Oh, come on," Stan replied. "No, I think he's right," Anna interjected before Sidewinder could explain further. "Vox Populi, Vox Dei...the voice of the people is the voice of God. But as the quote continues, what if the people are mad? Sure, Washington.gov is full of demagogues skilled at whipping people into a frenzy, but this isn't a frenzy of their making. And that has them more than a little worried, I'd think." "You think it's tied in with that guy who was controlling dreams, Mark Dante?" Stan asked. "I'm not sure. We never really got anything out of him, he may have been a cause, or just a symptom, using his dream powers to pick up on the prevailing fears and amplify them. People fear what they don't understand...it's an old saw, but it's true enough to have lasted this long. Most people have enough trouble understanding why their spouse doesn't seem to love them anymore, or why the car had to choose *today* to break down, or even why hot dogs come in packs of ten and buns in packs of eight. They can't even begin to understand us net.ahumans...." "Ahem," Stan interjected. "...or even normal people who decide for some insane reason to dress in a costume and hang out with net.heroes," Lynk amended. "Now, most things which people don't understand, they can't really do anything about, so there's this big ball of frustration sitting behind the eyes of your average person," Anna tapped her forehead. "A lot of this gets bled off through dreams, which is why so many of them deal with either wish-fulfillment or frustration and embarrassment. But not everything is dealt with, and when it looks like people can actually do something about one of their fears, they target it with everything they've got. It's how witch-hunts get started... one valid target for fear and misunderstanding gets all the energy built up from a dozen other untouchable targets. Life confusing you, things don't seem quite right anymore? Blame a scapegoat." "That doesn't solve anything, though," Sidewinder said, gamely trying to get back into the discussion. "Yes it does, actually. Oh, it doesn't fix the problems, of course, but it releases all that pent up frustration in here," Anna tapped her forehead again, "and *that* solves a lot of problems for the person doing the witch-hunting." "Kills the witch, though," Stan noted. "Yep. Toss in a good dose of the apocalyptic Year 2000 predictions, and you've got a public just looking for a good scapegoat," Anna nodded. "Still, I wish we knew for sure why Dante was messing with our heads." "Have you tried spying on his dreams?" Sidewinder suggested. After a guilty pause, Anna nodded. "Nothing. He must have burned out or something, he's constantly in a dream state now, but I can't begin to penetrate it. It's like he's focusing all his raw and untrained dream power on shutting himself off from everything." "I guess we'll never know," Stan sighed. There was a pause. "I said, I guess we'll never know," Stan sighed again, with some urgency. A moment later, Squidman and Kat came hurrying into the room. "Sorry, caught a headwind," Squidman apologized. "But you're right in setting up an ironic establishing line, because we do, in fact, now know. I have here a list of names," Squidman held up a 3.5" disc. "People involved with various 'grass roots' political movements that have sprung up over the last few months. Some of these are anti-hero groups, others work from a law and order platform, a few are technocrats, there's several Get-Out-The-Vote groups and general civic-minded organizations. At first glance, they almost seem like a random sample of all new politically-oriented groups to be founded in the last six months, and even a deep search wouldn't show anything more concrete than that." "So, the search at Hunter Red turned up paydirt?" Stan asked, attempting to cut to the chase. "Yes and no," Kat replied. "The office was a bust. Lots of incriminating evidence, but only penny-ante criminal stuff. No links to any of those political groups." "But we ran into an old friend," Squidman continued. "Shane Boxer, or John Smith as his adopted body is known." Squidman risked a glance at Stan, knowing Boxer was a reminder of an episode neither of them was terribly proud of [Dvandom Force #48, to be specific - Ed.]. "We put on a show for the security cameras, and he slipped me this disc during the fight. He's managed to infiltrate the organization high enough to know who's at the top." There was a dramatic pause. "DeFacto's lieutenants, Darkheart and Steelwind," Squidman finished. "Boxer wasn't able to get much, but once he confirmed his suspicions about who was behind this, he was able to find out that behind every single one of these new organizations, either as a leader, founder or backer, was someone who could easily be one of the pair in a shapeshifted disguise. They hardly even bothered disguising their names, possibly to avoid slipping and forgetting their 'real names.' Dirk Hart, D.H. King...as in Cobra...Darwin Cartier, Daniel Coeur, and so forth...Darkheart was the more inventive of the pair. Steelwind was almost always Joe Steel, or Joe Stihl, Joe Stahl, and so forth. Because they're not always in the same positions in the organiations, it's hard to find the connections unless you know they're there to look for." Kat took over the exposition, "Apparently, they realized that there was no way they could make an all-or-nothing powerhouse takeover work if DeFacto V failed, so they decided to go for the slow and steady route. And from what I understand about this universe, spending more than six months without going public is a VERY slow plot. They're playing it safe, trying to defeat us all with public opinion before they even fire a shot." "And it gets worse, because the longer they operate freely, no only do they sink their hooks deeper into public thought, they also build their army of superhuman agents. Like Mark Dante," Squidman said. "I was wondering when this would connect up," Anna smirked. "So, they gave Dante his powers, and presumably Boxer as well. How many more?" Squidman shook his head. "Boxer's not trusted enough to get into the inner circle. But based on what little he did see, he guesses they may already have dozens, if not hundreds of these agents." "Uh-oh..." was Stan's less than witty reply. -------]==+ <*> +==[------- Keystroke City, Net.braska. Doug had lived there during the late 1980s and early to mid 1990s before joining the LNH, then lived there and in C|Net.ral City in the late 1970s after leaving the LNH for Dvandom Force. Due to the headache-inducing effects of time travel [Dvandom Force #71-72 - Ed.], most of his recent memories of the city were as it stood nearly two decades ago. It still felt funny returning there to visit his aunt Glory, seeing how everthing had changed "overnight." They say you can't go home again, because either you've changed or home has changed or both. But in Doug's case, it was truer than it was for most people. Case in point. Once again, he'd forgotten that the North River Bridge had been torn down in 1989, meaning that to cross from C|Net.ral City into Keystroke he'd have to zip a mile to the south and use the newer bridge which replaced it...in the order of his memories, that bridge had been replaced by the North River Bridge, not the other way around. And because he had forgotten about this, he was having to run on "manual" rather than follow a pre-programmed path, so he was going a lot more slowly than usual. Turns out, it was a good thing he'd slowed down, because even with his accelerated perception, he would have missed the new sign on the bridge if he were going full speed. "KEYSTROKE CITY - A NET.AHUMAN-FREE ZONE" Macroman nearly tripped from the doubletake this caused. He jogged back to the sign at normal human speed, having overshot it, and checked again. "What the Hell(TM)?" he said to himself. "I have DEFINITELY not been paying enough attention to the news," he muttered. "And I know just the person to fill me in on that." Looking around to make sure there weren't any giant net.hero-hunting robots zeroing in on him or anything (as if the city could afford those in the first place), Doug tapped out the code for the macro which would carry him to Glory's house quickly enough that no one would spot him. In a fla...in a gust of wind, he was inside, away from prying eyes. "Aunt Glory, you in?" he called out, more to let her know he was there than anything else. The half-finished glass of iced tea sweating on the kitchen table told him she was in, or at most had just stepped outside for a minute. "Oh, hello Doug," she said, walking in from the hall and motioning for him to sit as she went to the fridge. "Ice tea?" "Thanks, but no. What's going on?" Glory frowned. "I take it you *haven't* been keeping up with current events like I tried to teach you to do. But I think it's safe to presume you know by now you shouldn't be here...the ordinance forbids net.heroes entrance to city limits unless specifically invited in by the mayor or city council to deal with a specific threat." "I can't believe people let this happen...!" Doug started, before being cut off. "Then you're even more out of touch than I thought," was the swift rebuke. "No, no...I know there's rumblings around the country, heck, around the world, about net.heroes. But HERE? I've saved half the people in this city from one disaster or another, how could they turn so fast and so hard?" Glory sat down and looked into her tea. "Doug, that was twenty years ago. Yes, most of those people still live here, but you're pushing it to expect gratitude to last twenty days, let alone twenty YEARS. Not to mention, while the 'original' Macroman is still a hero to the city, only a few people know you're him. Still, that memory *is* why C|Net.ral City still hasn't banned net.heroes, you were closer to their hearts, after all. No, I don't like the ordinance, I think it's a stupid, short-sighted measure and have said so in my editorials. But the mayor says he's only bowing to pressure from the citizens, trying to do what's right for the city, and I think he really believes that." "I think I'll go ask him myself," Doug snarled, standing. "Wait..." Glory started, but Doug was already gone. "Sigh...sometimes I forget that he's still more Doug than Alan, more the kid than the adult, for all he's been through." She took her tea out to the TV room and sat back to watch the fireworks, if any. -------]==+ <*> +==[------- The sign on the door read "Mayor Julian Wade," and Doug just barely caught a glimpse of it before time-popping past it. The mayor looked up from his computer to see Macroman standing in front of his desk. "Ah!" he exclaimed, sitting back rapidly, which caused his thin blond hair to go into disarray and his glasses to slide forwards on his nose. "Given the current...climate...I felt it would be best if no one saw me come in here," Doug said, barely restraining himself from snarling. Mayor Wade pushed his glasses back up and composed himself. "I had begun to think you wouldn't come at all," he admitted, "since you didn't show up in the first few days after the ordinance was passed. We left in a rider that would let you come and go until such time as you were officially notified of the law, as a consideration to your past help and that of your mentor, Kid Macro." "I'm going by Macroman now," Doug corrected him. "Of course," the mayor said, straightening his hair. "This is your official notice, by the way," he handed Macroman a stapled booklet. "The text of the ordinance, so you can be sure not to violate it by accident...." His voice petered out as Macroman made no move to take the proffered item. "Why?" Doug asked. "Which why? There's a lot of questions you *could* have about this, and I'd rather not defend an angle you weren't going to attack," the mayor gave his public grin. "Why forbid net.heroes from entering the city? It's not like this is a mecca for net.heroes...in fact, I'm the only one who even visits regularly, and I'm not even around much." "Because it's easier to keep the water out of the boat than to try and bail while you're sinking," the mayor replied. "We don't WANT to become another 'mecca' as you put it. Look, I know you come here for personal reasons, to visit your aunt. But she works across the river, you can always meet her after work before she goes home, it's not like you're being terribly inconvenienced." "And I'm sure the Jews weren't terribly inconvenienced to wear those stars, were they?" Doug snarled. A fire lit in Wade's eyes. "I was hoping to keep this on a polite level, but I see you're not interested in that. Fine, I'll be very frank. All things being equal, this law would never have been proposed, let alone passed...but people demanded it, and we DO serve the people, not the other way around. But I'm perfectly satisfied with the law. I no more want net.heroes regularly patrolling the city streets than I want the National Guard doing the same. There are already much stricter laws about the use of military forces in our own cities than this ordinance," he rapped the sheaf of paper on his desk, "and the military frankly has a better track record for leaving cities the way they find them. Net.ropolis has been under a sort of de facto martial law ever since the Legion of Net.Heroes moved in," the mayor finished, not knowing what serious mistaken-identity trouble he'd have been in for his phrasing if Doug had only waited a little longer to leave and been at the base when Squidman got back. But that's neither here nor there. As it was, Doug blinked at the use of the term "de facto," but mentally shrugged it off. "The LNH is there to help," Doug protested. "The argument that they cause villain attacks is...." "Don't put words in my mouth. That's not the point I'm trying to make. Stationing Army units on Main Street doesn't provoke foreign armies to attack either, but that's not the problem. This is a democracy, more or less, not a police state. That means we have a right to keep our protectors, both military and otherwise, at arm's length when they aren't actively needed. Look, we're not saying net.heroes can never come into Keystroke City, just that, like the National Guard, they should only come when invited. We have the police for day to day protection, and if you wanted to join them...AND be bound by their rules and procedures...the law wouldn't apply to you. I hear some of the other cities with ordinances like this have already brought some of the newer net.ahumans into their police departments to deal with the chance of net.villains seeing them as open ports. Now please," he turned back to his computer, "I have work to get done, and you obviously need to cool down and actually read the text of the ordinance before you can argue this meaningfully. Good day." Without a word, Doug snatched up the papers, stuffed them into his buttpack, and left in a whirl of wind. ============================================================================= NEXT ISSUE: An attack on the Century Pact! A shocking revelation! Be here for the penultimate chapter of the Century Pact, "Face of the Enemy"! ============================================================================= Author's Notes: In case anyone missed it, Julian Wade is a mangling of the names of the Flash writing team, Augustyn and Waid. Given how my own plot was going, I found the current "Flash Kicked Out Of Keystone" plot too close to avoid a parallel, hence the last scenes of this issue. And don't assume that this situation will end when the arc ends.... The reason hot dogs and buns come in different numbers is that meat packers prefer units of pounds and half pounds and bakers like square things. With normal sized hot dogs, the usual number of dogs (10) will give you a half pound of meat, while four hot dog buns fit neatly in a square tray, stack to to get eight in a bag. The weight of tradition kept things moving that way even after it became easy enough to pack them in different numbers, although you'll see jumbo franks in packs of eight to the half pound. This information comes from The Straight Dope, by Cecil Adams.