WE HAD A GOOD THING

The flashing lights of the police cars were reflected in the wet streets, prompting Andrea out of her reverie. She looked up, and saw several police cars and a crowd gathered at the mouth of an alley. Curious, she crossed the street and looked in.

She saw a red boot and her heart almost stopped. Desperate, she fought to get to the front of the crowd to get a better look. Finally, unable to shove or slip past, she used her telekinetic powers and made people move aside. She half-ran up to the mouth of the alley, and what she saw confirmed her fears.

The body of American Eagle lay in the alley. He had been shot in the head; the messy remains scattered over a wide area. His costume, which was the source of his powers, was discharging into a puddle where he lay. Andrea stood, transfixed and horrified by what she saw.

"All right miss," said a police officer, walking up to her, "Move back. Let the police do their jobs."

She looked up, tears streaking down her face. "No. I knew him."

The policeman grimaced and took her arm. "Yeah, you and everyone else. Move back."

"No. I know who he really was."

The cop’s eyes widened. He directed her over to a squad car, opened the door, and set her down in the back seat. "Stay here, please." With that, he went back to the alley and the dead body. Andrea buried her face in her hands.

A few minutes later, a detective came over with the cop. "Excuse me, but can I have your name?"

She swallowed. "Andrea. Andrea Davis."

The detective scribbled a few notes. "And you know who the deceased really is?"

She nodded. American Eagle was actually Robert Harcourt, an industrialist, inventor, and patriot. Using his money and his inventive genius, he had developed a form of body armor, which not only protected the wearer, but anyone whom he touched or who came in contact with it was shocked with a powerful electrical charge. Dubbing himself the American Eagle, he had become a costumed crimefighter, or super-hero, eventually joining the ranks of a former superhero team, the Super Squadron.

While she was telling the detective about him, the coroner showed up. Eventually, one of the workers came over and said, "excuse us, but we’re having trouble wit the body. Each time we try and touch it, we get shocked."

Andrea had to smile. Trust Robert’s invention to outlive him. "I can help there."

The worker took her to the body. Steeling herself, she knelt down and quickly pressed a button on his belt. The electrical field went away. She bent her head and whispered, "Peace, my friend, we will find out who did this." With that, she got up and left.

In the next couple of days, she ducked some tabloid news crews, and called the former members of the Super Squad. A television special was made and aired, and five very unusual guests attended the funeral, all of them in their costumes.

During the ceremony, Andrea thought about their history. The Super Squadron had been one of the superhero teams in the area. She, as the Gypsy Moth, along with Solarr, their leader, the Aristocrat, Hologram, Plasto, and American Eagle had been the core of the team. It all started to go bad about three years ago.

To begin with, Plasto had been charged with sexual assault by a woman he had known. While he had eventually been cleared, his reputation had been destroyed, and with all the hate mail he had gotten, he had little choice but to retire.

Then, the Aristocrat, who had originally hailed from England, got something he had never thought he would – an inheritance. A country estate in Sussex, however, he would have to return to England to claim it, and stay there, according to the will. He and Solarr had had many heated arguments about him leaving.

Finally, the group’s arch nemesis, a team of super-villains called the Killer’s Guild, struck. First, their headquarters were demolished, and then the group was attacked. In an effort to bring down the Guild Master, Hologram had overstretched her powers, and she also had to leave, now more a living ghost than ever.

The remaining members just sort of split up then. The Aristocrat went to England, American Eagle became a solo crimefighter, and Solarr tried to recruit some new people, but eventually gave up and pretty much dropped out of sight. Gypsy Moth also retired, when Andrea decided to finish college and start working on a new life.

After the service, the former team members headed back to their former headquarters. Everyone was very surprised to see how well-maintained and up-to-date their facilities were.

Everyone seemed different. Plasto was drunk. Andrea had heard rumors that his life was in a shambles. Hologram seemed again able to control her powers, to the extent that while most of the time she was insubstantial, she could make herself solid for a short time. The Aristocrat seemed content, but there was an edginess to his manner, which seemed to be from doing something he had given up a long time ago.

Time had changed the group’s leader the least. He still had his silken blond hair, magnificent physique, and incredibly irritating manner. His passive-aggressive demeanor managed to get on Andrea’s nerves, even in the context of a friend’s funeral.

Solarr passed around a plate with drinks on it. Once everyone had one, he raised the glass and said, "To our friend, and teammate, may you live forever in history."

"Amen", they all said, and drank.

Once they had finished, Solarr passed out a number of folders. "Now, I’m sure we all want to see justice done for our friend. I’ve done some preliminary investigations, and his murderer could very well be either of those two super-villains who hunted him. Moonfire and the Electric Scorpion are both at large."

"Now wait a bloody minute!" Exclaimed the Aristocrat. "I didn’t get myself all the way here just to do this super-hero business again! I have obligations in England!"

"Wait a minute, my friends." Said Hologram. "We owe it to him. It is a matter of honor. He would be one of the first to avenge any of us getting killed."

Solarr smiled. "Thank you, Hologram. I suggest we split up. Aristocrat, you and Gypsy Moth can take care of Moonfire, while Plasto and Hologram can investigate The Electric Scorpion. I’m going to use my connections at the police station and see if there are any other clues we can follow up on.

They all got up and began to file out.

As she passed Plasto, Andrea took him aside. "Thanks for coming Plasto. I know it couldn’t have been easy."

Plasto smiled. "Hey, no problem. I liked the stiff." He grimaced. "Sorry, bad joke. Anyway, Solarr arranged it for me really fast. I got a call from him not more than an hour after you called me. He paid for the ticket and everything." He quickly turned around and began to follow Hologram. "Hey, ghost-lady, wait up."

* * * * *

Some time later, Gypsy Moth and The Aristocrat were flying above the Hollywood Hills, in a helicopter, looking for telltale signs of Moonfire’s lair. The woman, a rich dilettante with power over light, had developed a "fatal attraction" type of relationship with the American Eagle, and was in the business of committing crimes both for kicks and to get his attention.

Gypsy Moth tried to concentrate on the task at hand, but something about what Plasto had said was bugging her. She almost overlooked the stretch of dirt road, but noticed it in time, and motioned to The Aristocrat, who was piloting the copter. They followed it to a spacious but well-concealed house. After circling, she spotted a very unusual vehicle parked nearby – odds on it was Moonfire’s infamous moonbuggy. "Land this thing – I’m going in for a closer look." She said, and then opened the door and jumped out.

Using her powers of telekinesis, Gypsy Moth soared silently in for a closer look. Everything looked quiet, and with the noise of the helicopter fading away, she heard nothing. If it weren’t for the vehicle, she might think the place empty.

She waited near the front door for The Aristocrat to land the copter and join her. When he did, they approached.

By silent agreement, she made the first move. She used her powers and ripped the front door off, flinging it far away.

The Aristocrat rushed in, his magic cane at the ready. "Moonfire!" He yelled out. Gypsy Moth joined him.

The dark of the foyer brightened. A woman, dressed in a light robe, carrying a bottle, walked into view. "What the hell?" She exclaimed, noticing first her front door, then them. "Oh, its you. I should have guessed you’d come around." She took another swig from the bottle.

They didn’t expect this. "What do you know about the American Eagle’s death, woman?" The Aristocrat finally said.

Moonfire’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. "Probably about as much as you do. I didn’t kill him." She took another drink. "Talk to that nutcase the Electric Scorpion or your ex-leader, if you want a motive."

The pair looked at each other, then at her. "What? What are you saying about him?"

Moonfire gave a brief laugh. "Solarr? He came to me a while ago. Wanted me to cook up some "grand scheme" to get the lot of you back together. Even promised me money and a guarantee I wouldn’t be caught. I turned him down." She shook her head. "That kind of grief I don’t need."

Gypsy Moth was stunned by Moonfire’s words. "Solarr….actually asked you to do that sort of thing?"

She nodded. "Give the lady a gold star. Now get out. I’m trying to mourn here."

Confused, the pair left. Moonfire wandered back deeper in to her house.

When they got back to the helicopter, Gypsy Moth said, "Call Hologram and Plasto and tell them to meet us at Bob’s office. We need to speak to his secretary, and I need to make some calls."

Sylvia Walters looked a little taken aback by the presence of four superheroes in the office of her late employer, but she quickly regained her composure and did as they asked.

Ms. Walters was very accommodating. She booted up the computer while Gypsy Moth and Plasto made some phone calls on their cell phones. The answers they got weren’t helpful.

Gypsy Moth went through the email that came from the American Eagle website. American Eagle had had the website made not long after he split from the team, for both use by the general public and for his image. She knew Bob enough to know that he always kept a record of any communication he got, especially after the mess with Enron last year. She paged through several email letters about requests for aid, public appearances and endorsement offers, until she found something unusual: a communication, dated the day he had been shot. When she saw the return address, she put her hand over her mouth and got up. The others looked at her, and then at the screen. She didn’t want to believe it; it was like someone had told her a friend was sick. Silently, she led the team back to their headquarters.

* * * * *

Solarr was happy. He’d had some trouble, but it seemed like soon he would be back in a place where everything worked. When he led a superhero team, things in his life worked out. Soon that team would be back together. Whistling, he re-entered the conference room – and stopped short.

The rest of the team was waiting for him. The looks on their faces ranged from disgust to horror. "Say, guys, what’s going on?"

"You tell us, chap." Stated the Aristocrat. "We met with Moonfire. She had an interesting story to tell. You asked her to commit a crime."

He let out a laugh. "You’d believe some criminal over me, someone you’ve known for years?"

"That’s not all." Said Plasto, "When were you planning on telling us about the arrests…and your stint in the mental institution?"

He went from bemused to angry. "I was having some trouble. I got over it."

"And last but not least, dear leader." Said Gypsy Moth, her anger just as hot as his, "You emailed him the very day he was shot. YOU KILLED HIM!"

"You have no proof."

"Fact: You wanted us back together, you were willing to resort to criminal activity, you have an arrest record, and you were in contact with him that day. Lastly, he was shot. I know, I saw the body. Why would either Moonfire or the Electric Scorpion use a gun? You did it. You shot him."

He shook his head. Over and over, he said, "No, you don’t understand." He was getting agitated. His bracers, the source of his powers, began to glow.

"He wouldn’t listen. All he did was threaten me. I wouldn’t let him stop my dream. I won’t let you do it, either!" With that, an aura of light erupted around him, and he rose off the floor. He fixed on the four of them. "You will do this!" With that, a beam of energy erupted from his bracers.

Plasto yelled, "Scatter!" The four dived in separate directions. The beam gouged a smoking hole in the conference table.

Everyone went into action. Gypsy Moth took to the air. Hologram walked through a wall. Plasto’s body stretched and thinned, becoming a barrier, which the Aristocrat ducked behind.

It was obvious that Solarr had lost it. "No! No! No!" He yelled, "This is not going to happen again!" He started firing randomly, burning holes in the things around the room, all the time screaming "No!".

Gypsy Moth spiraled around the room. She tried to make herself the most obvious target. Sure enough, her ruse worked and she drew his fire away from Plasto and the Aristocrat. With the pressure off, Plasto snaked an arm along the floor until it was under Solarr. The Aristocrat pointed his cane at Solarr.

Magic coursed though the cane, and a ray of light struck Solarr. In an instant, his weight was increased exponentially. Gradually, unable to support himself at his increased weight, he began to sink to the floor.

He looked down, and saw Plasto’s arm there. "No!" He screamed again, and fired at Plasto and the Aristocrat. The Aristocrat ducked, his cane’s magic broken, Plasto was struck full on. He let out a yelp, and collapsed in a heap.

Gypsy Moth was ready. She grabbed him telekinetically, and threw him into a wall. He slid down the wall, dazed. Before he could get his bearings, Hologram appeared. She reached out, and phased his bracers, pulling them off.

Solarr collapsed. He was babbling like a child, and half-curled into a fetal position. Gypsy Moth came over, grabbed his head, turned his face to her, and asked, "Why Solarr? For the love of God, why?"

His face had the look of utter desolation. "You don’t understand. We had a good thing going…" the rest of what he said was lost as he fainted.

Gypsy Moth stood up. "C’mon. Let’s call the police…and an ambulance."

* * * * *

Everyone was still in shock after the ambulance left. "What now?"

The Aristocrat spoke. "Well, maybe something good can come of this."

"Huh?"

"I mean, Solarr can get the help he needs, and we can do something with this property. I say, we erect a monument to the good we did. This team and us as heroes may not exist, but the good we did still does."

Hologram and Plasto smiled. Gypsy Moth said, "I like that. Let’s do it."

They left the building, finally able to feel better.