Fallen Idols part one

I opened the door to my fifth floor "penhouse" apartment in Queen City, glad for the break from the classes at Angel Falls. A slight musty smell greeted me, but for all I could tell the place had been undisturbed since I'd moved in June.

I was tired from the six hour drive, and all I really wanted to do was run a hot bath and get into bed. But as I headed up the stairs to my loft bedroom, the telephone rang. I shook my head, since the phone had been disconnected when I left. So I reached for the handset. "Hello?" I said hesitatingly.

"Athena! Oh thank God, I was hoping I could get through to you." The young voice of Julie Allen spoke into my ear. But something seemed wrong--her normally effevescent self seemd strained--cracking...

"Julie? How did you manage to make a dead telephone ring? And what's wrong?"

"Athena, he's dead! My grandpa is dead!" The shock in her voice jolted the weariness from my bones and I was at full alertness.

"Oh Julie, I'm so sorry!" I began. "When did...how?" My words failed me.

"He died Sunday morning in his sleep. Mom came back from the women's shelter and found him in his chair. He looked so peaceful. I think it was just old age finally catching up to him."

That made sense. Nathaniel West had fought in World War II, made the landings at D Day and had been in the thick of things at the Battle of the Bulge. But he'd also been one of America's first Mystery Men--Freedom's Ring. His sonic powers had been key to assisting with the liberation of Paris and Brussels His powers had been passed genetically to both his daughter Rebecca and his grand daughter Julie.

"He was eighty eight, Athena," she said. "That's old for a veteran, and positively ancient for a superhero."

"Hey careful Julie, I'm not sure this is a secure line." I heard a giggle.

"Of COURSE its secure. Who bugs a dead phone?"

I had to admit, she was probably right about that. "WEll that's a neat trick, Julie."

"Its the last thing Grandpa taught me--how to send my energy back down the line to reactivate a phone." I heard a stifled sob.

"Do you need me to come over, Julie?" I asked.

"No, the family is here. Grandpa's funeral was today and the Legion did full military honors for him. It was beautiful. But I want you to be there on Saturday if you can. At Idlewood Cemetery in Washington."

"I thought you said the funeral was today?"

"It was; for Nathaniel West. But Freedom's Ring died too. And for security reasons, we still have to maintain the double identity. And I knew your identity--the government didn't. So I had the job of notifying you."

I nodded, jotting down the address and time. "I'll be there Julie, as your friend."

"Thank you Athena, I knew I could count on you." The phone line went dead and I frowned. I'd brought the Whtie Owl uniform, but the more I thought, the more I felt I needed the formal costume again. I picked up the cell phone, and called Mr Wickersham. The understanding tailor said he wasn't going anywhere for the holiday, and told me to stop by his shop on Friday.
*****
Saturday morning I 'ported to the DC tube and flew to the cemetery. It was an unusual feeling, because a blue Nu Silk cape was fluttering behind me. I also had added a grey silk skirt at the urging of the Crimson Dynamo. Both added a little drag to the flight profile and I felt sluggish as I flew along. But I knew I shouldn't be complaining. Father Timothy would tell me I should be grateful for the gift of flight.

Idlewood Cemetery was the final resting place of America's superheroes and mystery men. Captain Thunder, American Ace, Deep Six, Blaze, Hurricane and Quiver were among the luninaries buried here--or at least marked with memorials. Despite the aura of valor here, the cemetery seemed well used and slighty worn down. I landed outside, near a line of vehicles and made my way inside.

I was dismayed by the low turnout. Julie and her mother were both there, along with some elderly men who I assumed were the remainder of the Liberty Guard, the loose team Freedom's Ring had been a part of. Along with the old men, I saw a stunning blonde woman.

I straightened my skirt, and sat behind Patriette and Liberty Girl, my two friends from Queen City. The memorial was brief; a couple fo the Liberty Guard told some slightly off color stories about Freedom's Ring and Webel, a German villainess who made fog. Julie squirmed uncomfortably, as did Patriette. Nacht and Webel had made things difficult in their family for three generations at least.

But the funeral ended, and we went to a small brownstone building in Capitol Heights. I ascended the stairs and felt my heart beating faster. This HAD to be the fabled headquarters of the Guard. A door opened, and a spry old man motioned us in. We passed a room filled with costumes, gaudy and reflective of the forties and fifties. The Spotlight's Chestbeam sat alone in a cabinet, the glass shattered with bulletholes. Behind that, in a full length case was Blaze's bright yellow asbestos suit. I stood in awe of my predecessors, then followed quietly into a large dining area.

Rebecca seemed to be doing well, and I guess Julie was too; but then these men had been visitors in her house for a long time. I excused myself to get more coffee and as I turned from the urn, I ran headlong into the blonde. My coffee sloshed, spilling over my pristine costume and staining it a dark brown.

"AHHHH" I shouted...then calmed down because the coffee wasn't really scalding and the NuSilk seemed to be keeping most of it away.

"Oh GOLLY! How clumsy of me," she said. "Let me take care of that for you. She stared at my costume and her face screwed up in concentration. A moment later--the moisture in the NuSilk misted and evaporated into the air.

"That's amazing!" I began, but she held up a finger.

A gentle breath blew across the front of my costume, chilling me to the bone. A moment later, the blonde flicked away the residue of the stain as little freeze dried crystals.

"Ta Da!!!" she warbled cheerfully. "Sixty years of filthy costumes and villain's lairs have taught me something about being clean. I'm American Dream." She smiled broadly and the world became brighter.

I gazed at her. She had a beauty that transcended glamour. Whichever goddess was responsible for drop dead gorgeous looks had lingered overly long on her. She was tall, blonde, well packed in all the right spots and looked better than any woman almost eighty years old should look. Except maybe Tania.

"And you are...?" she prompted.

"Staring...I am so sorry," I said. Then regaining some level of composure I said, "I'm White Owl. I knew Freedom's Ring through Patriette and Liberty Girl."

She nodded. "I was a frequent visitor at that house for some time. Actually until Major Allen married Rebecca. Then Nate stopped heroing and I...well I wouldn't give it up. Still haven't, in fact."

I nodded. "But I haven't seen anything about you in years," I said.

"And you won't. I work covert now for the government. That doesn't mean I don't get down time now and then though. And I very seldom get a chance to train with and talk to the new generations. Are you free anytime soon?"

"Well, I have a break coming for three weeks in December," I said. "I might be able to make some time then."

"Oh please do," she gushed. "I would love to talk, and get to know you better." She pushed a card at me.

"This is my private line. I'll always answer. Just give me a call when you want to visit. Ta ta!!" She turned and shouted across the room, "Dauntless! Where have you been hiding, you old geezer?"

I watched her cross the room to an old man in a wheelchair. His eyes gleamed as American Dream began to cross with him and in my minds eye I caught a vision of a powerful man in a bright red costume; broken as he stopped a bus singlehandedly. that stunt had prevented terrorists from overthowing Monteverde, but it had ruined Dauntless for life. I was surprised as I walked back to Julie and Becca.

"Thanks for coming White Owl, it really means a lot," said Patriette. "Dad really thought the world of you, I don't know if you knew that."

I felt my face warming. "Aww, thanks. I had similar feelings about him. He knew what it meant to be a hero and role model."

"Yes, and he wondered about living so long," said Julie.

"What?" I asked.

"It's true, Athena, most people in our profession don't die in bed of old age like Gran'pa."

I nodded and thought about that--then I looked at Rebecca. "Hey Patriette, what can you tell me about American Dream?" I told her of my chance meeting and the invitation.

"Only that you're never good enough for her White Owl. She's a perfectionist. And with all the years she's been doing it, she has it down to a science. Still she's a good one to have in your corner. And no one understands the woman in the hero mold better.

"I'd say, pick your friends carefully; but being an avatar of wisdom, you know how to do that. I imagine she's lonely, and it can't hurt to go talk."

I thanked them both, expressing my condolences again, and stepped into the waning daylight. With a wistful look at the brownstone, I flew back to the teleport tube and travelled back to Queen City. (to be continued)