The Sound of Variance

The music died. Ann Rumbelowe ran an exasperated hand through her short, bright orange hair, newly gelled into a spiky punk style. 'I don't believe this,' she muttered. Turning to the guitarist on her left, Jeremy Griggs, she complained, 'I thought you'd fixed it.'

'So did I,' Jeremy said. 'Don't blame me, I expect it's knackered. We'll have to ship in a new one.'

'Don't be ridiculous, Jeremy - there isn't time! We should have called in a professional to fix it in the first place instead of leaving it to an amateur like you.'

They glared at one another.

'Give it a rest, you two,' Rodney Sutton, the drummer, grumbled. 'It doesn't matter who's to blame for this. What matters is we're on in less than three hours and our amplifier doesn't work.'

'Too right,' added Des Bainbridge, the keyboard player. 'Especially since that bloke from the record company is going to be in the audience. Unless we can get it fixed we lose our best chance of a recording deal - so stop arguing about whose fault it is and find someone who can fix it.'

Ann closed her eyes and massaged her temples. Her skull felt as though it was about to explode, and her throat felt as if she'd swallowed barbed wire. It could all simply be nerves, but the fear she might be catching a cold, or some even worse malady of the throat, scratched at the back of her mind. She poured herself another glass of water. The cool liquid soothed her throat a little.

'I'd better look at it again,' Jeremy said, taking a step towards the amplifier.

'Oh no,' Ann retorted, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. 'You will not. Give me a phone and the Yellow Pages. I'm going to make sure it gets done properly.'

She flicked through the lemon coloured volume. She had no idea who the best sound engineer was in this town. In the absence of any recommendations, she was in danger of calling in someone who knew even less about these things than Jeremy did. She wished she knew enough about electronics to fix it herself; but the best she could do was find someone who could. She had to do it quickly and confidently, or risk Jeremy's sneers and taunts, and Des and Rodney putting the blame for their lack of a recording contract on her.

Her eyes fell on an ad proclaiming, 'If you can plug it in, Brent Electrix can fix it.' She dialled the number.

'Would your firm be able to fix a sound system for a rock concert?' Ann asked the woman who answered the telephone.

'Certainly,' came the reply. 'What seems to be the problem?'

Ann explained as best she could.

'Oh yes, I see,' the woman said. 'I think I know what the problem is. Happens a lot with those systems.'

Ann relaxed. It sounded as if Brent Electrix had dealt with sound systems before. They must know what they were doing. 'Could you send someone right away?' she asked. 'The concert is due to start at seven-thirty.'

She steeled herself to hear the woman say they had no-one available until tomorrow, and prepared to beg and plead for her to free someone up; but to Ann's relief, she said, 'Where are you? Fine, that's just up the road from here. Be there in a jiffy.'

Ten minutes later, a tall, red-haired woman carrying a bag of tools strode purposefully into the hall asking for Ann. She showed a metallic blue card with 'Brent Electrix' printed on it in bold, black lettering. Ann was slightly taken aback that the engineer was female. The rest of the band were horrified.

'A woman?' Jeremy sneered. 'What does a woman know about electrics?'

The red-haired woman shot him a look which told Ann she'd heard it all before. 'Move aside and I'll show you,' she said.

'You heard her,' Ann said. 'Get out of her way. We won't get that record deal if you don't let her do her job.' If Brent Electrix failed to get the system working, she'd never hear the end of it, particularly as they'd sent a woman to do it.

Any prejudice quickly melted away when Judith Brent got to work. She knew exactly what she was doing. Ann had feared Jeremy might be right, and they'd have to throw the thing out and get a new one; but by seven o'clock the system was in perfect working order.

Ann slipped four complimentary tickets into Judith's hand along with the payment. 'You can't possibly know how grateful we are for this. We thought we were going to have to cancel the gig, which would have been a disaster - someone from Pogo Records is coming tonight. The least I can do is let you and some of your mates come to the show for free.'

'That's really kind of you,' Judith said. 'I'll call my housemates. They'll love it. We were only complaining that we had nothing to do tonight when you called.'

**

Backstage, Ann couldn't stay still. She paced up and down, chewed her lip, fidgeted with her hair, clothes and jewellery. She was ten times more nervous than usual. A lot depended on this gig. If tonight went well it could result in a recording contract. If not, the Basement Bop Squad might fade into obscurity.

A couple of aspirins had taken care of her headache, but had done nothing for her throat at all. She sipped on a honey and lemon drink, praying her performance wouldn't be affected. Not tonight, of all nights. If she had to rest her voice for a few days after this it wouldn't matter, but tonight, she had to give it her all. She downed the drink in one as the knock came on her dressing room door, signalling it was time for the concert to begin.

The lights went up; the band bounded onto the stage. For the first few numbers, everything went perfectly. Ann sang as well as she ever had. By the second song, people were on their feet dancing to the sound of her strong, rich voice and the hypnotic beat.

It was during the seventh song that things started to go wrong. Ann's blood ran cold as she realised her voice wasn't doing what she wanted it to do; she couldn't seem to control it. In spite of all her efforts, she was slipping badly off key; squeaking and croaking.

Those few minutes could have been lifted from Ann's worst recurring nightmare. As she tried to sing, the sounds which came out of her mouth no longer even sounded human. The rest of the band and the audience held their ears and grimaced as if they were in pain. A girl in the front row fainted.

Further back in the hall, Mike whispered to Judith, 'What did you do to their sound system, Jude?'

'There's nothing the matter with the system. I made quite sure of that. It's her. There's something weird happening to her voice!'

'You can say that again,' Claire said. 'It's hurting my ears. I mean, my ears actually hurt - it's as if I'm on a plane coming in to land.'

'That noise is making me feel funny,' Lizzie said, sitting down and holding her head. 'What could be wrong with her?'

'I don't know,' Judith said, 'but I'd certainly like to find out. Perhaps she's one of us.'

On stage, Ann sank to her knees in a clammy sweat, coughing, trying in vain to clear her throat, but it wouldn't stop burning. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. Her career was ruined. The band was finished. They'd be furious; Rodney and Des would yell at her. She wouldn't put it past Jeremy to physically attack her. Her voice was gone; she'd ruined everything, for the boys as well as herself.

She stumbled to her feet and off the stage. She shut herself in her dressing room and wept bitterly.

When someone knocked, she didn't answer. She couldn't face the rest of the band. Not now.

'It's me, Judith,' came the voice through the door. 'I want to help you.'

'You can fix human beings as well as sound systems?' Ann croaked back through her tears.

'No, but we can drive you to the hospital. They'll be able to help.'

Ann opened the door. Although the fear that a doctor might say she could never sing again lurked in the back of her mind, something was very wrong, and only a doctor could fix it.

**

At Darrowburn Hospital, Dr. Long, an expert diagnostician, was completely baffled for the second time in his career. There was a lot more to Ann Rumbelowe's condition than simple voice strain, that was clear. Yet her symptoms didn't fit any disease he'd ever heard of. He admitted her for observation and when he finally clocked off, found himself lying awake and thinking back to the other occasion when he'd been stumped, hoping to find a clue somewhere in his memory.

The patient on that occasion had presented with a totally different set of symptoms, and, although she'd apparently recovered, the true nature of her ailment had never been fully explained. Dr. Long had a hunch there a connection between this patient and that one, if only he could get his head round it.

Eventually, he pulled out Judith Brent's notes to try and find the answer. He found it in a letter he'd received some years after he'd seen the teenager, from a doctor in Birmingham, who'd seen her subsequently.

Dr. Wilson Warner appeared to specialise in strange medical phenomena, or genetic variance, as he called it. It occurred to Dr. Long that perhaps genetic variance was indicated in this case also, but he knew little or nothing about this unusual field of medicine. He reached for a big red volume entitled 'Medical Directory, L-Z.' He thumbed through the W section until he found Warner's contact details; he was now a GP in London; picked up some hospital notepaper, and began to write.

**

'There's someone here to see you,' the nurse said.

'I don't want to see anyone,' Ann replied sulkily from beneath the blankets.

'Come along, Ann, it will do you good to have a visitor. You can't go on hiding from the world forever. Besides, he's quite insistent.'

Ann emerged reluctantly. 'Oh, all right. I'll see him.'

She didn't recognise him. He was strikingly handsome, and trendily dressed. 'Hi,' he said. 'I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss Rumbelowe, but I feel now is the time to make you a very desirable offer. ' He spoke with an American accent. Ann was strongly reminded of the worst type of door-to-door salesman. 'I'm Dale Castle. You won't have heard of me, but I can assure you. I'm about to hit the big time over here. I'm also the founder of an exclusive organisation for performers called the Greenroom Society. I'm here to offer you membership of that society.'

Ann looked at him blankly. Why was he trying to sell her membership of any kind of performers' society when her career was so obviously in ruins? 'I don't really want to discuss it now,' she said hoarsely. 'I can hardly talk, let alone sing. I think I may have to retire; but you can leave me some bumph if you like and I'll read it through and think about it if I get my voice back.'

'I'm afraid we have no 'bumph' as you call it. Membership of the Greenroom Society is by invitation only - we're very exclusive, so we don't advertise. However, I suspect the benefits to you as a member would be immeasurable, even if you are no longer performing.'

Ann looked at him. She didn't like him, or trust him, either. 'I'm very sorry, Mr. Castle,' she said, 'but I'm not interested. I don't want to join anything if I can't get my solicitor to check the small print first. If there's nothing in writing, then the answer's no. Now, if you don't mind, I'm very tired and my voice is going.'

'You will regret turning us down,' Dale Castle said, quietly, but with such menace that it made shivers run up Ann's spine. He got up and walked away. If there had been any doubt in her mind that her visitor was not to be trusted, it disappeared as she saw him greet Jeremy Griggs by the door, and walk away with him, whispering in his ear.

Ann lay back on her pillows and closed her eyes.

'Ann?' A woman's voice said, by her ear, a little while later. She opened her eyes to see the woman from Brent Electrix, standing by her bed holding a bunch of flowers. 'These are for you, from me and the friends I brought to the concert. We're sorry about what happened to you.'

'Why, thank you, they're lovely.'

'Do you mind if I talk to you for a little while?'

'I suppose not.' She was certainly preferable to Dale Castle.

'How are you feeling?'

'Fine in myself, though my throat's still sore, and I shudder when I think about what happened to me on stage. I used to have nightmares about something like that happening. At least I wasn't naked as well like I was in those dreams. Even so, I was mortified.'

Judith smiled. 'I can imagine. Do they know what's wrong?'

'They haven't a clue. If they don't know what it is, they won't know how to treat it, so it looks like my singing career's over.'

'I'm sorry. What will you do?'

'Go back to college, I suppose.'

'I know this will sound like a stupid question, but was the concert being taped?'

'Of course. We always tape them.'

'Would it be at all possible to have a copy of the tape? I only want to borrow it for an evening, I'd let you have it right back.'

'You can keep the bloody thing,' Ann muttered. 'It's no use to me, or to the rest of the band. I've ruined their careers, too. I'll get it sent over to you.'

**

'It's hurting my ears already,' Peter Mayfield, the leader of the team of genetic variants, said, as the first number erupted from the speakers.

'I hate to have to tell you this, Peter,' his friend Rosemary Ellis, his deputy, also known as Shadow, said, 'but your age is showing.'

'Sshh! Listen, it's coming up now!' Claire hissed. They all winced as they heard Ann's voice fail to reach the correct notes. Then they cringed as the inhuman, painful frequencies started.

'You mean that girl's voice was making those sounds?' Peter was astonished.

'Well, I know for a fact it wasn't their sound system,' Judith said. 'Of course, the tape doesn't really do justice to how bad it really sounded. It was literally painful to listen to. A couple of people in the audience actually passed out. It isn't normal, is it?'

'You're quite right,' Rosemary said. 'You say she's in the hospital? Perhaps I can arrange to talk to her. She's going to need a lot of support to come to terms with this, especially if she has to give up her career because of it. I don't think the doctors will object, and I might be able to test whether she's one of us or not.'

**

Wilson Warner was intrigued to receive a letter with a Darrowburn postmark. The only person he knew of who lived there was Judith, and he couldn't imagine she'd write to him. It turned out to be a letter asking him to see a patient with a throat problem. Why should this be, he wondered at first, when he wasn't, and had never pretended to be, an ENT surgeon? He read on. The phrases 'impossible frequencies' and 'inhuman sounds' leapt out of the page at him. He noted the signature. Dr. A. Long. He remembered that name. That was the doctor he'd written to all those years ago about Judith, sure the other doctor would appreciate knowing what had caused her problem. He'd obviously not wasted his time. He reached for the telephone.

Wil arrived in Darrowburn the following day. He'd briefly toyed with the idea of contacting Judith on the pretext of asking her advice on places to stay; but thought better of it. He didn't have an address for her, and even if he managed to trace her, he expected he'd get a frosty reception anyway. They hadn't parted on the best of terms. He'd have to find his own way around the city.

It took him longer than he expected to locate the hospital.

Dr. Long waited for him in reception, a worried look on his face. 'I do appreciate your coming to see my patient, Dr. Warner. Only I'm afraid there is a bit of a problem. She's gone.'

'Gone? You don't mean...?'

'Heavens, no. Nor has she discharged herself. She was most co-operative when I suggested to her that she see you. She's been abducted, I'm sure of it. One of her band came to visit her earlier, with an American. There was an argument. Sister told me they dragged her out of the ward - under duress.'

Wil nodded gravely. He wasn't surprised. A public event like a pop concert would be witnessed by many people, including, no doubt, some people Wil knew would be all too eager to snap up anyone emerging as a genetic variant with potentially useful powers. 'One of them dropped this.' Dr. Long handed him a card. It was green, and proclaimed that the holder was a member of The Greenroom Society. On the back, someone had scrawled a Darrowburn address.

Wil read and re-read the card. The Greenroom Society. The name was all too familiar. They were dangerous. If they had Ann, he needed to get her out before they persuaded her, or forced her, to join their nefarious organisation. He didn't know Darrowburn at all, and didn't have a clue how to go about finding the place. Perhaps he should have tried to get in touch with Judith after all. She wouldn't refuse to help a fellow genetic variant in distress - would she?

'Excuse me.' The speaker was a trim woman, in her late thirties, Wil guessed. She had on an immaculately tailored grey suit. 'I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with Dr. Long about Ann Rumbelowe. Perhaps I can help.'

'Do you know this place by any chance?' Wil showed her the card. 'Could you give me directions? I think this is where she's been taken; she needs my help, but I don't know this town.'

The woman read the card, and said, 'Yes, I know this place. Do you have a car, or shall we take mine?'

Wil looked at her appraisingly. He came to the conclusion this elegant specimen couldn't possibly have any inkling about what was happening to Ann Rumbelowe. She certainly didn't look like someone who could handle a run in with a bunch of super-powered villains.

'Thanks for the offer, but I really just need to know how to get there. There's more to this than meets the eye, and I don't think...'

'You don't think I could cope with the potentially violent situation we'd be letting ourselves in for,' she finished for him. 'I quite understand your reasoning, but I can assure you, there is a lot more to me than meets the eye, too. I'm also conversant with the one way system in the centre of Darrowburn, which I think will be invaluable to you if you need to make a quick getaway.'

Wil had to admit she was right about that, and she'd demonstrated she had much more insight into what could be going on than Wil would ever have credited her for. He looked at her more closely. He saw a poised, elegant woman, with a subtle determination in her features. She was no shrinking violet. She seemed mildly amused at Wil's assumption she wouldn't be up to the task, and awaited his response with a raised eyebrow and a twinkle in her eye.

Wil wondered who she was, and why she was interested in Ann Rumbelowe. His danger sense was silent, telling him she wasn't a threat; so the best way to find out was to let her tag along. 'All right, you win. We'll take my car. Follow me.'

Her directions were concise and efficient, and in no time at all they drew up outside a derelict office block. 'This is it,' she said. They parked the car and cautiously went inside. There was no sign of life, at least not near the entrance. 'Would you excuse me for a moment?' she whispered. 'Only I need to powder my nose.' She disappeared through a door marked 'ladies'. Wil found himself doubting the wisdom of bringing her along. A woman who had to powder her nose every other minute was bound to be a liability. Still, it gave him the opportunity to exchange his suit for attire more suited to the job in hand, away from female eyes.

She emerged a couple of minutes later, and Wil noticed that she, too, had changed. Gone were the tailored suit, sheer stockings and smart shoes. Now, she wore a loose shirt, slacks and trainers. She showed no sign of surprise at Wil's transformation into Superwil, the superhero. 'I thought as much,' she said, looking him up and down with a knowing smile. 'I'm Shadow, of the G-Men. That's G for Gravity, after Ultra-Grav, our leader, and his power. I don't think we've met.'

'Superwil, leader of the Ultra-League,' he replied, trying to recall whether he'd heard anything about the G-Men before. He hadn't, but the ID Shadow showed him incorporated the little 'Ultraheroes' hologram devised by Unicorn leader of the Freedom League. That told him the G-Men must be part of the network Unicorn was aware of. She was on his side. He could trust her.

'Let's go,' he said.

**

Ann lay on a mattress, her wrists and ankles securely tied. Her face was tear-stained, but now there were no tears left in her. Two burly men lounged nearby, guarding her. Shadow and Superwil peered cautiously into the room, summing up the situation. Wil concluded he could deal with the guards easily enough, but only one at a time.

His acute eyesight spotted the alarm button beside them, which would be pressed by whichever one he didn't engage first. That could bring any number of heavies running, possibly with superpowers to boot. They both had to be taken down together.

Wil had no idea what Shadow's powers might be, but it was a reasonable guess that superhuman strength wasn't one of them. Still, one never knew in this business. He turned to ask her what her power was so he could come up with a plan - only she had vanished. His hypersenses told him, however, that she was still standing beside him; he simply couldn't see her.

So that's it, Wil thought. Invisibility. Very handy.

'Wait here,' she whispered. Although he could no longer see her, Wil could track her with his hypersenses as she crept past the guards towards Ann. Wil saw the girl start as she heard a disembodied voice in her ear.

'Don't be afraid, Ann,' Shadow whispered. 'I'm here to help you. Don't make a sound, and don't move until I tell you to. I'm going to untie you, but I want you to pretend for the moment that you're still tied up.'

Wil watched as Ann's bonds appeared to undo themselves. The guards didn't notice. One of them had brought out a pack of playing cards and was dealing a hand.

Ann froze. She wasn't sure which she was most afraid of, her captors, who she could see, or this invisible rescuer. Shadow completed her task and moved swiftly away, knowing her state could change at any moment. Her power was random, and she couldn't control whether she was invisible, intangible or able to fly. She'd been lucky so far. She'd been in her invisible mode when she'd removed the wristbands which stabilised her condition and allowed her to live a normal life. She never assumed her luck would last. She was usually right. She was right, today. She became visible before she could reach the door.

'Hey! What do you think you're doing?' one of the guards shouted, and lunged at the woman who'd appeared from nowhere. Shadow knew she'd shifted into her flight mode. That meant if he hit her, it would hurt. However, it gave her a means of escape. She launched herself into the air, just out of his reach. The second guard was taller, however, and the ceiling was low. The taller guard seized her by the foot. With a powerful tug, he thrust her to the ground with a sickening thud. Wil didn't hesitate. He sprang into action, stunning the man with a well-aimed energy blast. The second rapidly met the same fate, but not before he'd pressed the button to sound the alarm.

'Are you all right, Shadow?' Wil asked.

'Sure,' she said, breathlessly. 'I'll be fine as soon as I get my breath back.'

Wil helped her to her feet, but as he did, a massive force knocked him to the ground. He felt as though both the burly guards had woken up and were sitting on him. Through the corner of his eye he could see they were both still out for the count, but several people had appeared in the doorway. Four of them had on the same uniforms as the unconscious guards, and had the same unintelligent demeanour.

The rest were more diverse. There were two men and two women; Wil's experienced eye told him they were a team, like his own, prepared for a fight. Behind them stood a huge figure which looked for all the world like a man-shaped hunk of granite. Wil detected that it was a living being. The area around the door had an aura of danger around it; but Wil could have guessed as much without using his special sense at all. At worst, he and Shadow had nine bad guys to battle.

Shadow gestured wildly at one of the men, the older of the two, who was distinguished-looking, with a moustache. 'No!' she cried urgently. 'Not him! He's on our side! It's them you want!' She pointed to the four guards. As she spoke, the force which had been holding Wil down vanished as quickly as it had appeared. As he got to his feet, he heard a thud behind him as one of the four guards succumbed to the same power. G for gravity, our leader's power. These must be the rest of the G-Men. Shadow must have managed to summon them at some point. The odds were much better, now.

A blinding flash of light dazzled the other three; as they stumbled about blindly, the G-Men piled in. One was caught up by the man-mountain, who threw him effortlessly across the room, where he landed, stunned, at Wil's feet.

Ann watched with a bemused look on her face. Shadow went over to her, took her by the hand, and said, 'Now. Come with me. Run!' Ann needed little prompting.

Wil summed up the situation in a fraction of a second. The G-Men, looked more than capable of dealing with the guards; he guessed he'd be of most use following Ann and Shadow, to make sure they got safely off the premises. There could be even more dangerous fighters between them and safety. He would no doubt have a chance to find out more about the G-Men later.

He knew he'd made the right decision when a figure appeared around a corner and stood in their path. He was tall and stocky, wearing a black jumpsuit with a silver guitar motif emblazoned on the front. He brandished what looked like an electric guitar. Wil's danger sense told him it was actually something much more sinister. 'Look out! The guitar!' he yelled. An energy bolt discharged from the neck of the instrument. Shadow reacted fast, pulling Ann out of its range.

'There's nowhere to run to, Rumbelowe!' the man growled. 'I'll give you one last chance. Join us, and I'll let your mates go. Otherwise, I'll kill the lot of you.'

'You're a bastard, Jeremy.' Ann hissed. 'I always knew it, and now I know just how big a bastard you are.' The last thing she wanted to do was go with him, but she didn't want to be responsible for the deaths of all these people, who, strange as they were, had tried to help her. She let go of Shadow's hand.

Shadow caught her arm and held her back. 'It's not over yet,' she said. 'Hold on to me.' She put her arm around Ann's waist and leapt off the landing. Ann clung to her for dear life as she descended. Jeremy took aim, ready to shoot them down. Wil flew at him and kicked the weapon, deflecting the shot. Shadow, holding Ann, drifted slowly down towards the ground, ten floors below.

Shadow disappeared. Wil heard her swear and saw Ann fall. Ann screamed. The sound that came out of her was inhuman, yet barely audible, even to Wil's enhanced hearing. Inexplicably, she stopped falling, and actually began to float upwards. Whenever she stopped screaming, she began to fall again. 'Keep screaming!' a disembodied voice urged. Wil recognised it as belonging to Shadow. 'You're holding us up!' The tables had turned. Ann, by regulating her voice, managed to lower them both safely to the ground, even if the process wasn't as smooth and polished as it would have been with Shadow in control. Once they were safely on the ground, Shadow gave Ann a quick hug, and said, 'Well done! But we're not out of the woods yet. Come on!'

Jeremy slipped away from Wil and gave chase. He ran down the stairs, with Wil hot on his trail. Shadow and Ann fled from the building, only to find the gate, which had been open, was now closed. The alarm had triggered a lockdown situation.

'Like I said, Rumbelowe, there's nowhere to run,' Jeremy swaggered out into the courtyard and aimed his guitar-gun at them. At the last instant, he turned to fire at Wil, instead. Taken by surprise, Wil barely managed to dodge. He lost his balance and stumbled. There was nothing he could do as Jeremy aimed at Shadow and Ann again.

The vivid flash of blue light seemed to come from the first floor of the building. It knocked the weapon from Jeremy's hands, sending it skidding into some bushes, where it lay, sparking ominously. Wil was willing to bet it was well and truly out of action, now. He'd seen lightning flashes like that many times.

Jeremy swore loudly. He was defenceless now, and surrounded.

Wil glanced up to where the lighting bolt came from. Of its source there was no sign, but he didn't need his enhanced senses to work out what, or rather, who, it had been.

He should have guessed that Judith would be mixed up with the G-Men somehow. She was here, all right. She wasn't about to reveal herself, though. So be it, he thought. I don't have the time to go looking for her. There are more pressing things to attend to.

He caught up with Shadow and Ann, who, now the crisis was over, was sobbing, her mascara running, making her resemble a bedraggled panda. 'This isn't happening!' she cried. 'It's all so weird!'

'I know, I know,' Shadow said, soothingly, 'but you're safe now.'

'Can I drive you folks anywhere?' Wil asked.

'Back to my house, I think,' Peter Mayfield said, emerging from the building. 'This young lady deserves to be told exactly what's happening to her, and what she can do about it.'

On the way, Peter explained to Ann that he strongly suspected this whole thing with her voice was what he called a genetic variance. 'You need to know exactly what you are capable of,' Peter explained as he drove up the gravel road to his impressive home. 'You never know when you could find yourself in a situation when you might need to use your powers, like today. You were lucky, but you can't go on relying on mere luck.'

'I suppose if those people know about me, something like this could easily happen again.'

'I'm afraid it's highly likely, yes; but you're not alone. We can help. The people you met today, myself, Shadow, and the rest - we're all variants, too. We've all been through something like this. If you want to, you can stay here with us until you decide exactly what you want to do.'

'Thank you. I may well accept that offer - after all, I can't sing any more - I have to replace it with something.'

Wil followed in his car, with Shadow, who was visible now she'd put her wristbands back on. 'Where are you based, Wil?' she asked.

'London, right now. Before that I was with the Freedom League in Birmingham.'

'Aha. So you must know Unicorn.'

'Absolutely. I've got a lot to thank him for, persuading me not to jack in my medical studies to become a full-time superhero like I wanted to in the beginning. I think I've done more good as a doctor than I ever could have as a pure fighter. So you know Unicorn, too?'

'Why, yes, Peter and I started out with the Freedom League ourselves - many years ago, mind you! It's funny, but I used to really look up to Unicorn and Neutraliser. They seemed to know such a lot, and it was all so new to me! Now look at me, a senior member of this team. I sometimes wonder if the younger ones think of us the same way we used to think of Unicorn and Neutraliser. Perhaps Ann, even though it seems strange to her now, will be running her own team in twenty years or so, with a lot of youngsters, who aren't even born yet thinking she must know just about everything.'

'One thing I can be sure of,' Wil said with a smile, 'is none of us will ever know everything.'

'You probably know Judith Brent, then, Wil, she came to us from the Freedom League, too.'

'Sure, I know her. I can't imagine she'll be too pleased to see me, though. I can't say we parted the best of friends.'

They pulled up outside the mansion, followed an instant later by the rest of the team, in Judith's car. They piled out and went inside as Judith locked her car.

'Jude.' Wil called, as she went to follow the rest of them into the house. 'Wait a minute.'

'Hello, Wil,' she replied. They looked at each other, unsure what to say next. Judith hadn't expected, or indeed wanted, ever to see him again. 'How's Brum?' she asked, eventually, to break the awkward silence.

'I don't really know. I'm in London now, you see. Got my own little team. We're called the Ultra League.'

'Oh. How's Frish?'

'Fine, still pining for her boyfriend in Russia. She dreams of the day when he'll be able to join her.'

'They're still together? After all this time?'

'Sure. There was never anything between Frish and me, there never could be, only you didn't believe it, did you? You didn't trust me. That hurt, you know.'

'What you said to me hurt, but I admit now, that was mostly because it was true. I had to face a part of myself I didn't really like.'

'We're older and wiser now, aren't we? I mean, I don't think we should keep that old quarrel alive. I'm not saying we should get it together like before, I'm not sure it's practical, anymore, but we could at least be friends. Heaven knows, we variants have enemies enough without falling out with each other. Forgive and forget, eh?'

'OK. Forgive and forget.' She held out her hand and he shook it.

'Good,' he smiled. 'Shall we go in?'


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