Direwolf: Point of Arrival part 2
by Glen Mitchell (Direwolf)

Continued from Part One

As he got closer to the registration desk, Jason made a distressing discovery. It was closed. The lights were out, the single desk empty. He stopped by the counter and spotted the small sign that said the hours were from eight to eight. A quick glace to the large clock on the Terminal showed him the time was a quarter after eight.

“Drat, now what,” he growled, eyeing the uncomfortable looking benches around the terminal walls.

“Can I help you, young man?” Someone asked from inside the booth.

Jason looked back. A small door in the office had opened and an elderly woman stood silhouetted in the soft light from what looked like a small storeroom. She wore a powder blue pants suit and low, sensible shoes. Her silver hair was pulled into a neat bun atop her head, held in place by two long silver pins. A pair of rhinestone-decked glasses perched on her nose, held with a chain looped over her neck. She smiled at him and Jason realized she looked a lot like Miss Medford, his old sixth grade English teacher.

“Uh, I’m sorry ma’am; I didn’t realize you were closed. You see, I can’t really use a watch, the shock waves sort of break them.” He set down his duffle bag and was about to show her his bare wrist when he realized he still had an unconscious man over his shoulder. “Oh! This isn’t what it looks like!”

She looked at him quizzically, and then her face spread into a wide, friendly smile. “Well, dear, it looks like you’re here to register as a Champion under the Provisional Authority Charter but it got later than you expected. And on your way, you managed to make a citizen’s arrest of a local Hellion… Excuse me, Hellion-wannabe, his vest is off, they use different symbols. What part of that did I get wrong?”

Jason blushed in embarrassment and grinned sheepishly. “Nothing, you got it all right, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Doris, everyone does. Well, I think I can make an exception of the rules and register you now, not like we get too many Champions coming by the Terminal.” She switched on the lights and computer behind the counter. “Just set him down, I’ll call security over.”

As the computer spun up, Doris crossed to the counter and adjusted her glasses. They magnified her dark blue eyes, making them seem impossibly large and young.

“Well, dear, first things first. I need you to show me what you can do.”

“Excuse me?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Doesn’t have to be anything huge, you don’t have to leap a tall building in a single bound, explode a car with your eyes, or do jumping jacks for an hour, just something to show that you do have abilities that qualify you to join the warranted Champions here. Since you brought in that thug, I’m sure you’ll have no problems but I need to make sure. Liability you know.”

“Is that really needed?”

She laughed. “Listen, dear, I can’t tell you how many nut jobs we get who claim they are Champion material just because they have a baseball bat, a bullet proof vest, and can whistle TV tunes out their nose. If we took in all the loonies out there, we’d run out of morgue space PDQ. So, let’s see what you got. If, for some reason, you would rather demonstrate you skills or abilities in front of a discreet panel of experts, you have the right to request such a panel be convened, but that will take a while.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Jason looked over the counter and spotted an old coffee mug marked with the emblem for the Paragon City Hockey Team. He pointed to the mug. “You need that?”

Doris shook her head. He picked up the mug. “Can I have a wastebasket?”

He set the metal wastebasket on the counter, and then stripped off his gloves. He took the mug in both hands and put them in the basket, then squeezed down slightly. The cup exploded with the sound of a rifle shot, shards clattered off the metal. Jason dusted off his hands, showed her they were unmarked, then put on his gloves.

“With proper leverage, I can lift something in excess of a ton and half. I’ve also discovered I’m very resistant to physical trauma. My senses are all hyper-acute, for example, I can read the label on the bottle of syrup that the woman at the coffee stand back there just poured from—it’s almond. And the batteries in your calculator are corroded, I can smell ’em. I heal at a phenomenal rate and can jump about eight feet straight up from a standing start. How’s that?”

Doris laughed and looked at the bits of broken ceramic. “That will do! Now, for the real challenge, filling in the forms!”

She sat down at the computer and called up a screen. “Let’s start with your name.”

“Jason Cross.”

“No, dear, your Champion name. What you want to see in the newspapers when they write glowing things about your crime fighting.”

“Oh, right. That would be Direwolf.”

“Spell it please.”

Doris quickly filled in the data Jason provided; none of it was information that might be used to trace his identity. The Provisional Authority respected the privacy of its agents. He was required to place his thumb on a scanner pad and have his picture taken with an electronic camera. Then she stood up and looked him square in the eye.

“Now, repeat after me,” she instructed as her face took on a far-away expression and a sense of gravity descended on her. “I, Direwolf, do hereby swear to abide by all the requirements of my office as a duly deputized agent of the Paragon City Provisional Authority, authorized under emergency Senate Bill zero three forty seven, as presented in the Field Guide to Deputy protocols dated May first, two thousand and four. I agree to accept all the rights, responsibilities and codes of this office, as detailed in said manual and agree to hold the Provisional Authority, the government of Paragon City and all duly authorized agents and representatives exempt from any legal action stemming from my voluntary enrollment in the Deputy program, including but not limited to suits and or claims possibly filed on the event of my death or grievous bodily injury.”

Jason had a quick memory of trying to read the several hundred-page thick government manual that was the Field Guide on the transcontinental bus trip. It had proved a fine cure for insomnia. He promised himself he would read it later. It couldn’t be much worse than fighting through an advanced geochemistry test. He recited the oath without faltering.

Doris beamed at him. “I’ll be amazed if you actually read the darned thing, dear. No one I know can make it much past chapter five, where it talks about what constitutes probable cause. Not to worry, there isn’t a test or anything.”

A box-like object the size of a photocopier made a soft chiming note and something the size of a passport slid out into a tray on the side. Doris took the object and handed it to Direwolf. It was a quarter-inch think slice of some light gray metal with an iridescent sheen. It was deeply incised with a summary of the information he had provided. His picture sat in the upper right corner and his thumbprint was etched into the back.

“It’s your official warrant encoded with all your information. It will track your security clearance and allow access to secure zones in the city once you are cleared. You can slot it in any information terminal to access the Provisional Authority database to request information and file reports. It will also allow you to access your stipend account. They are made out of stress formed titanium and laser etched so they are pretty durable. And you will need this—”

She passed him a silvery gray patch about the size of a squared quarter, no thicker then a bandage. “That’s your medical transponder. This is very important, so don’t lose it. Keep it on your person; preferably away from any point that is apt to be a target. They are durable but can be destroyed. It’s calibrated to your life signs and if they sink below a certain level, the medical monitoring system should be able to pull you out. Think of it as a parachute, but like a parachute, they can fail.”

She looked at him intently. “It’s dangerous out there, Direwolf, more so than you can imagine. This city needs you, but be careful. I don’t want to read that you have gone missing in action, then find out you were parted up by Doctor Vahzilok for one of his mad experiments!”

When Jason saw the deep concern written on Doris’ face, the glib answer he’d been ready to offer died unspoken. She was deeply concerned for him, which was both heartening and sobering at the same time. He was suddenly struck by the enormity of what he was undertaking. He had walked away from all his friends, his family, his entire life to cross the county and begin a struggle against overwhelming odds. It was a struggle that he knew would be fraught with danger, fear and pain. Part of him wanted to turn away; to use the open-ended bus ticket marking his place in the field manual that was tucked in his duffle bag and head home. That was the safe course, not this madness.

But the memory of the teeth sinking into his arm and the sensation of cold wind as he hunted remained. He knew that the answers to what really happened when the direwolf skeleton vanished, seemingly to fuse with his own body, and why, would be found here. Jason Cross had always been the sort to solve puzzles.

“Thank you, Doris. That means a lot and I’ll take your advice to heart.” He took the transponder and shoved it into his ponytail, making sure it was held firmly in his hair. “I’ll make sure you don’t regret staying open a little late to help me find my way.”

She smiled back luminously. “I hope you are right, Direwolf.”

He picked up his duffle bag and looked around. “Uh, how do I get into the city?”

Doris’ laughter was filled with honest humor, with out a trace of derision. “I’ll give you a lift, dear. I’m off work anyway.”

It took her only a few minutes to shut everything down and collect her purse. The two of them walked out of the terminal into the parking lot. The lights were long since out so the only illumination leaked from the Terminal itself. The parking lot was a maze of thick shadows that Doris managed to navigate with ease. She headed for a late model compact car parked a few isles away.

“It gets less sun over there,” Doris explained as her shoes clicked on the worn pavement. “Makes the upholstery last longer and it’s worth a little longer walk. At my age the exercise feels good.”

Direwolf grinned and shook his head. It would be very hard not to like Doris. She was the perfect matronly aunt who never seemed to understand that you had graduated from grammar school, but was a lot of fun nonetheless. He circled around towards the trunk of the car to stow his duffle bag.

The sounds of running feet and a strangled gasp seemed impossibly loud. He leapt over the car, landing in a crouch, his eyes narrowed. The moon had just crested over the bulk of the Transit Terminal. Knife-edge swaths of pale light carved the shadows into a mosaic. It took him a few moments to make out just what was going on. Four young men dressed very much like the would-be mugger were clustered around Doris. One of them leveled a shotgun at Direwolf, while two others held chromed pistols. The last held Doris from behind, a long knife pressed to her throat.

“Easy hero, ‘less you want a literal blood bath,” the knife wielder snapped.

Direwolf stood up and held his arms out to the side, making sure the men knew he wasn’t a threat. His mind whirled and all of the pieces snapped into place. Doris said the man who attacked him had been a Hellion wannabe. Most likely, the attack in the bathroom had been some sort of initiation to prove he had what it took to join the gang. These four had been there to watch and access the potential recruit’s skill and nerve. They must have watched through one of the broken windows and saw what happened. Now they were looking for a little payback.

He wavered, trying to decide what to do. Any action was apt to leave Doris mortally wounded. But if he didn’t act, it was likely the Hellions would kill her anyway.

Doris looked at him, the knife pressed firmly against her neck.

“Direwolf, catch,” she whispered in a voice too low for even the man holding her to hear.

To Jason’s hyper-acute ears, the words were quite clear. He had a moment to center himself.

In a flowing movement that was almost too fast for Direwolf to see, Doris reached up, grabbed the arm holding the knife and twisted it away from her body. The Hellion squawked in pain and alarm. Doris wasn’t done; she ducked out of his grip and then, still holding the man’s arm, spun in place, throwing him over her hip. Right to Direwolf. Jason caught the hurtling ganger and decided to use the improvised weapon. He tossed the man at the shotgun-wielding thug and both of them crashed to the ground.

Direwolf charged the two gunmen still on their feet. The pistols made sharp, ugly cracks as they fired, the muzzle flashes brilliant in the near darkness. One bullet flew wide, the other caught Direwolf in the chest.

“Urgh!” he grunted as the lead slug flattened on his inhumanly hard skin. He felt it leave a smear of hot metal as it grazed off. “That’s another shirt you losers owe me!”

His fist caught one of the Hellions in the pit of the stomach. Air exploded out of the man’s mouth as he flipped up over a parked car, hit the ground and didn’t get up.

The last of the four had seen enough. He took off at a dead run. Jason was about to go after him when he remembered the first two. He had to make sure. As he turned back, they were both getting to their feet. He saw the muzzle of the shotgun tracking towards Doris.

With another fluid movement, the woman plucked the silver pins from her hair and threw them like darts. One struck each of the two Hellions who toppled to the ground. Doris stood up, breathing deeply and favoring her left side.

“I am just too old for this,” she announced. Her hair was falling in a silver gray wave nearly to her waist. The moonlight glittered in her eyes and Jason was sure he saw a look of feral amusement there. She had enjoyed the fight.

“You…them…how?” he stammered.

“Oh, sorry about that surprise, dear.” She retrieved her hairpins for the two fallen Hellions and cleaned them on their vests before pinning up her hair in a smooth twist. “You see, back in my day, I took to the rooftops as the Silver Shade. I did well enough though never made a big name for myself and was retired from crime fighting and into civil service by the time of the war. Still, I keep a few of the old toys around as mementos.”

She patted her hair where the pins protruded innocently. “They are coated with a fast acting anesthetic. Handy for dealing with troublesome hooligans or even insistent salesmen.”

She took a phone from her purse and snapped it open. “Hey, Rudy. It’s Doris again. Yes, I know. I’m here a little late. Had a project to finish up.”

She winked at Direwolf. “Listen, there are three Hellions out cold over where I park. Can you collect them and take care of the paperwork for me? Thank you, dear.”

Doris reached in to her car and pulled a lever, unlocking the truck. As he stowed his bag, Direwolf saw a compact silver submachine gun clipped to the sidewall. He made sure his bag as well away from the gun, then shut the truck then squeezing into the front seat alongside Doris. He noticed a floral air freshener hanging from the mirror. For a moment, he thought the flower shaped object was a shuriken.

“Buckle up, dear,” Doris insisted.” Safety counts.”

Deftly avoiding the three unconscious Hellions, Doris pulled out of her parking space and headed into Paragon City. Bemused, Direwolf watched the city roll by.

“Well, if you don’t have any plans right now, there was a call for help from an old friend of mine, Officer Flint.” Doris offered. “Something about a dangerous new drug. If you’d like, I could drop you off with Officer Flint.”

“Sure,” Jason agreed as he watched the curtains of light shimmer in the sky while the moon climbed higher, “that seems the proper welcome for Paragon City!”

Doris laughed and patted his knee. “Direwolf, I think you are going to fit right in.”

The End