Part Three

Vic - in her old armor, the helmet in her left hand - got out of her Corolla wagon at the scene of another "super drive-by" attack. This time, what was apparently the same black SUV from which the energy blast had been directed at the theater crowd days earlier, had made a different type of attack. Vic found it odd that even though there had been several more-traditional drive-by shootings lately in Detroit during that same period, the energy blast attack - and now this one - were "the" drive-bys on the minds of most police and civilians alike.

There were multiple, deep gouges on the brick wall backing the crime scene, all well above head height. One of the gouges still had a shiny, metal disk embedded in it.

Vic identified herself at the plastic tape barrier and was let onto the scene. Her badge was becoming largely superfluous when she was in her armor, which definitely helped speed things. She zeroed in on the Detective in charge, a man she had worked with before.

"Detachable hubcaps, huh?" she said, to break the pause after a terse exchange of greetings.

"Yeah," said the Detective. He began explaining what had happened, using his hands to indicate locations and motions. "The SUV drove down this way first, briefly aimed at the crowd to launch the two spinners on that side. Then it straightened out and sped off. Fortunately, the rolling blades of death - as one reporter is already calling them - hit the curb and bounced into the air. You can definitely see the damage where the curb was hit. People were still hurt when the first two glanced off the wall and dropped back to the sidewalk."

He stepped closer to the street, Vic following, and gestured down the block.

"Maybe because those missed, the SUV made a U-turn in the intersection - you can see the tire marks from here - and headed back. They launched the other two spinners and left in a hurry. Both of those also hit the curb, bounced up and hit the wall, one of them sticking. Again, the one which bounced off hurt people.

"We have nineteen in the hospital. Most of the injuries are minor, fortunately. Three people are in intensive care, but all are expected to make a full recovery."

"This definitely seems like mad inventor work," said Vic. She looked around and sighed. "The mechanics of spinning up the detachable hubcaps and launching them all seem to have worked perfectly. The driver even aimed well. They just didn't think about the effects a concrete curb would have on the discs' trajectory. Right now, whoever built those is probably having a good rant, blaming everyone and everything but themselves for the failure.

"Oh, what was the crowd here for, anyway?

"Charity concert," said the Detective. "To raise funds for low-income people who want to buy a newly-refurbished home but can't afford the down payment. Part of a cooperative effort between the city and several companies to try and help revitalize the city."

"I read about that," said Vic, nodding. Then she frowned. "The idea was that the developer bought some abandoned houses from the city, refurbished them and planned to use the funds which selling them raised to repeat the process. Only not enough people who would want those homes could afford them."

"Yeah, that's it," said the Detective, nodding. He gave a heavy sigh. "The concert promoters say they're going to continue with the event, and most of those waiting in line have said they still plan to attend."

"Now I'm wondering if this attack was to keep more abandoned properties from being refurbished," said Vic, frowning in thought. "Maybe... maybe the people responsible for these attacks are squatting in one of the abandoned homes."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. I'm going to check whether anyone at the previous incident - in the crowd or involved in organizing the event - is also involved in that project. Problem is, even if we're right, there's a lot of abandoned homes - even entire neighborhoods - in this town."

"You local police are better equipped to check that than the Bureau is."

Vic spent the better part of an hour on site, asking questions, taking photos of the actual "rolling blades of death" and the damage to the wall and arranging to get copies of the police reports. Since powers had apparently been used in both of the black SUV attacks, the Bureau of Special Resources was taking an official interest in the SUV and its occupants. Which was why Vic was again out well after her usual workday.

"Still no license plate for the SUV," she said, with a sigh, to the Detective as she wrapped up her part. "No description of those inside the vehicle; not even a reliable number of occupants. I bet there won't be fingerprints or DNA on the spinners, either."

"No bet," said the Detective.

* * *

Vic had tried the new armor on that first night, and quickly formed her opinion. Just to be fair, though - as well as to present the image of being diligent in evaluating it - she tried it a few more times, including during a couple of workouts, and didn't bring the case back to the office until the end of the week.

The next Monday, even before Vic could get to her desk, she was called to Drake's office. She felt irritated when she saw that Travers was also there. He didn't look happy.

"I didn't even file my report, yet," said Vic, once the terse greetings were over.

"I'm afraid it's my fault he's here," said Drake. "I told him Friday afternoon the armor was ready for pickup. When he got here, he wanted to know why you weren't keeping it and I told him you hadn't liked it."

"What's wrong with it?" said Travers, the image of barely controlled offense.

"Let's start with the undergarment. It has toes."

"Uh..." said Travers, uncertainly. This was obviously not the sort of objection he had prepared to defend against.

"Okay, those aren't that bad of an idea, and in an elastic garment they work okay. However, they make that undergarment much slower to put on than the one I currently use, and there are times when I have to get into the armor quickly."

"You'll get better with practice," he said, confidently.

"This isn't about me," said Vic, tightly. "This is about something which protects me and helps me do my job. No matter how much I practice - and I do practice putting my armor on - yours is slower with such a needlessly detailed bodystocking underneath. Even though it does fit very well. How did your people get my measurements, by the way?

"Then there's the fact that there are too many pieces which have to be put on individually. My existing armor has been refined so that I can leave most of the pieces connected, meaning that I only have to put on three sets of armor pieces and adjust six straps. Those straps, by the way, fasten with Velcro, so that..."

"Velcro wears out!" the man snapped. "Buckles last forever!"

"Velcro can be replaced as it wears," said Vic, angrily. "Buckles also take approximately forever to adjust!"

"You just haven't been taught the right way to adjust the buckles on this suit," said the man, scornfully. Obviously meaning that he didn't think Vic knew how to adjust buckles, possibly because she appeared to be so young.

"Even if they were more durable, the buckles mean there are more steps to donning and - just as important - doffing the armor. Finally - and I admit this is another minor point - the color is too dark. I need high visibility a lot more often than I need stealth, and the pearlescent finish on the current armor gives that. It's also more reflective for light-based attacks, adding to the protection."

"Stop making excuses! This is your issued equipment and you will wear it!"

"Like Hell I will," said Vic, mildly. "My old armor was developed over a period of several years with help from specialists at the Bureau. It's not perfect, but overall it's much better than what you brought. Oh, and I didn't see any of their names on the list of people who developed the new armor. Which means that whoever made this started from scratch. Needlessly. I don't know the people who made this, I had no input into developing it, it doesn't work nearly as well as the current armor. I'm not wearing it."

"It offers twelve percent better protection!"

"By whose measurement? Even if it were much tougher than what I have, it hampers my mobility so much that I'd get hit far more often, meaning that I'd actually be in more danger. No. I'm not wearing it."

"Yes. You. Are. Or you'll suffer the consequences!"

"Did you just threaten a federal agent?" said Vic's boss, his tone deceptively mild.

"You're damn right I did! I know all about your prima donna super, and how she needs a firm hand. You've obviously been going far too easy on her, letting her get away with things just because she's a super. Well, that ends now!"

"Indeed it does," said Drake, standing. "Get out of my office."

"What?" said Travers. He had the nerve to look surprised.

"The Bureau of Special Resources fulfilled the request from the Office of Scientific Investigation to have Vic evaluate your armor. You are in no position to change her evaluation, and certainly can't make her wear the armor. Her evaluation will be sent in printed form to your superiors when it's done. For now, you're done. You can go."

"Now see here!"

"You're already getting a complaint for your attitude, from me directly to your boss," said Drake, loudly. "I suggest you leave before I have you arrested for interfering with the operations of a federal law enforcement agency and threatening my best agent. Oh, and take that case with you."

The man grabbed the case and left in an angry hurry. He even slammed Drake's office door on the way out.

"So petty," said Vic, with a tired sigh.

"Well, hopefully, once you send your report - which I want on my desk before close of business today - that will be the last of our involvement in that matter," said Drake. "Oh, and in another matter, we now have a name - though it's still tentative - for that nutty female super you had the encounter with. Turns out she calls herself Dare."

"Well, that fits," said Vic. She grimaced. "Especially considering the way she dresses."

"Anyway, the Monday morning briefing will be at the usual time. So, you go get ready and I'll do the same."

* * *

Chief of Police Soviren and the Mayor Minot were having a news conference. They weren't doing very well. In fact, it was more like the news conference had them.

"Why can't you stop these attacks?" shouted one reporter.

"If you know where and when the next one will be, please tell me," said Soviren, pointedly. "They seem to be random in both scheduling and location. As well as what the exact nature of the attack will be!"

"Keep in mind that there have only been two of these attacks with no deaths involved," said the Mayor. "During that same interval there have been four conventional drive-by shootings, with three dead and nearly two dozen in the hospital. We are therefore giving those precedence."

"How many of those traditional drive-by shooters have you caught?" shouted another reporter.

"Uhm, none," said the Mayor obviously uncomfortable making that revelation. "We are still working on those events."

"That's not surprising," shouted someone else. "Detroit's murder solution rate is only fourteen percent!"

"We are considering multiple options to help improve the safety of the public overall," said Chief Soviren, heatedly. "Especially in regard to these super drive-bys. I can't go into details just now, though."

The briefing was ended soon after this.

* * *

Vic finished a run on the treadmill and began her cool down. Michelle had already started supper. Vic's excellent sense of smell was providing multiple temptations, but she still put in her time. After finally stopping, she took a quick shower and headed to the apartment's kitchen. The meal wasn't quite ready, yet, but Vic figured she should help. She might also be able to sneak a carrot or two.

The meal itself was spent in small talk. This was an unwritten rule, something Vic had picked up while interning with Tricorne: Don't talk business during a meal. Afterwards, though, as they settled into their individual pursuits - Michelle reading beauty business magazines to stay informed about fashion and the connected technology, and Vic catching up on e-mail - they both felt free to talk about work. As usual, Michelle was more interested in what Vic did than vice versa. Vic soon brought up something connected indirectly to her job with the Bureau.

"Because of these bizarre super drive-bys and some other matters, the city has decided to hire a metro," said Vic, sourly.

"A which?" said Michelle.

"A mercenary super, hired by a city. As a combined figurehead and super crime fighter."

"Is that even legal?!"

"If they're properly vetted, trained and deputized," said Vic. "Doesn't mean it's a smart thing to do. Though I have to admit they often do good work."

"I don't see why they'd bring in outside help they have to pay for, when they get your services for free."

"Hon, as highly as you think of me, I can only be in one place at a time," said Vic, grinning, and leaning back in the computer chair a bit to meet her love's gaze. "Seriously, though, while the city can ask for my help, where I go and what cases I work on come down from my boss. Who has different priorities than the Mayor does. Or even the police chief."

"Do you know who the city has picked, yet?"

"No. They don't seem to have made their choice, yet. Last word I have is that after two rounds of eliminations they still had six finalists in consideration."

"I have to tell you, a lot of people are scared of that black SUV," said Michelle, seriously. "I know it's silly - the Mayor even pointed out how much more common other crimes are - but half my clients are worried that the 'demon van' is coming for them next."

"Hey, the population is under a million," said Vic, tongue in cheek. "The odds aren't great, but they're there."

"Not helping," said Michelle, rolling her eyes.

"Ooh, here's something interesting," said Vic, partly to change the mood. "The UN has bought an island off the coast of southwest Africa to use for a T.O.W.E.R. base, as part of their post-war expansion. Makes you wonder where they got the budget..."

"I told you about that almost two months ago," said Michelle, rolling her eyes. "It used to be a private resort for some dictator and his friends. A sort of imitation Riviera off the African coast. Only he was deposed a few years after it opened, and the island was abandoned, because it never came close to breaking even."

"Yeah, but what's new is the problems the UN is having repurposing the buildings there," said Vic, triumphantly. "The dictator vanished, and now they're saying either that he's living there in hiding and sabotaging things, or that his ghost is haunting the island."

"Okay, I hadn't heard that," said Michelle, a bit grudgingly. She shivered. "Weird."