25

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

AN: Changed the name of Taylor's new group from the League of Defense to the Human Defense Initiative. Thanks for all of the feedback from everyone on the name.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Sherrel reread the treatise in her hands one more time. Unfortunately, it didn't make any of the words on any of the pages change even one little bit. Slowly, she let the document fall to the floor in a fluttering of paper. Momentarily, she reached out her hand to pick it up, then stopped. It didn't matter any more. Nothing mattered anymore.

Sherrel wasn't stupid, contrary to what a lot of so-called heroes believed. Because her vehicles often struggled, and probably because she was high as a kite while operating them, she'd gotten the reputation as a bit of an idiot savant. The crack-whore Tinker of Brockton Bay was how one would be vigilante had once described her, although he'd probably changed his mind by the time she and Skids had beaten the ever living shit out of him.

No, she wasn't bitter, Sherrel thought in dry amusement. Although, maybe she was a bit stupid for allowing Skidmark to get her hooked and believing that he loved her. Looking back now, her mind clear and processing information better than it had in years, if ever, Sherrel knew the bastard had only cared about himself and his next high. She was a convenience. A useful convenience, but still that was likely all she'd ever meant to him.

That Skidmark hadn't come after her to rescue her was one indication. Then again, he might be sharing a cell just down the hallway from Sherrel. Somehow, she didn't think so, but it was possible. However, the way she'd been healed and then fed this information told her that it was likely only herself that was being held captive.

Because, in the end, Sherrel wasn't stupid. She had a mind and she'd applied a great deal of thought to her current situation. After all, she had the time for it. What she'd concluded was that someone was trying to recruit her.

First, they'd captured her. Next, they'd cleaned her up and healed her. They'd also given her just enough modern conveniences to show her that she had value to them. At the same time, they'd cut her off from the outside world, clearly not wanting her to know what was going on out there.

At first, Sherrel thought whoever had her just wanted her to design things for them. But no one had ever collected the various designs she'd drawn out. Designs, that in hindsight, were crude compared to the technology that her captors had already shown just in the repair drones that occasionally kept her company. So, maybe they didn't want her designs after all.

Then there was The Document, as she was already thinking of it. Sherrel shivered as she remembered the dry, passionless facts laid out in the treatise. She couldn't dispute anything there. And even though she'd spent the last couple of years higher than a kite a lot of the time, she was grimly certain that the things written there were true. Something which meant trouble with a capital T for the human race.

Finally, Sherrel had concluded that whoever had her wanted her willing cooperation, not just a captive Tinker. It was a novel idea, but one that she simply couldn't dispute based upon the evidence around her. Of course, she could be wrong. Time to test her little hypothesis.

Staring up at the ceiling, having long ago figured out that whoever was imprisoning her had her under surveillance, Sherrel announced, ″Okay, I get it. Let me talk to someone who can give me the 411.″

Not thirty seconds after Sherrel spoke, her door unlocked itself and slowly swung open. Staring at the open door, she briefly wondered if it was a trap, then dismissed the thought as idiotic. Whoever had her didn't need to trap her. She was already a prisoner. Sherrel got up from where she was sitting and walked through the door.

Facing her was another drone. But this time one wasn't the small repair drones, this was the same kind as the one that had destroyed her last truck. Remembering how easily the most powerful vehicle she'd ever built had been ganked, Sherrel instinctively tensed.

That was when the drone spoke in a cultured, British voice, ″Miss Bailey, I'm here to guide you to your meeting with my Principal. Please follow the security drone.″

Sherrel's brows rose. Was this guy for real? His principal? And he knew her civilian identity? What the fuck! She somehow managed to mask her derision, well mostly, as she spoke, ″Lead on, Jeeves.″

″Actually, Miss Bailey, my name is JARVIS.″

″Your mother name you that? She must have been one mean bitch to call you that.″

There was a slight edge to the other's tone as JARVIS riposted, ″No more than your own mother, Miranda Bailey was.″

Sherrel almost started screaming at the smug fucker on the other end of the com line. He'd touched a nerve, mentioning her mother. Miranda Bailey was the only person who had ever truly cared about Sherrel. The one person who she could absolutely depend upon. She wouldn't let some mid-level bureaucrat get away with dissing her. But she needed to be careful right now as her captors held all of the cards. So aloud, all Sherrel said was, ″Don't talk about my mother.″

JARVIS' tone was surprisingly kind as he said, ″I won't. She was an admirable woman, after all. I was just making a point. If you're civil to me, I'll be civil in return. Do we have an agreement?″

What the fuck? Sherrel's head swam. She knew she was being manipulated, but she didn't have a snap answer ready to go. Instead, she just nodded her agreement. ″Fine.″

″Then come this way, Miss Bailey. Before your next meeting, I have a great deal to show you.″

Sherrel slowly followed the hovering drone, feeling for just a moment like one of those brats in that kid's story, the Pied-whatever-the-fuck. From her vague memories, things hadn't worked out all that well for them.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

There are things that challenge the limits of man's understanding of the universe. While others go far past it. Then there are the things that so blow your mind that you feel like a watermelon dropped off the Empire State Building.

That was how Sherrel's mind felt at that exact moment as she stared at the technological marvel that was the laboratory in front of her. There were tools that could make anything she had ever dreamed of. All of them automated so that you just push a button and the action was carried out. There were tools to make other tools.

There were even tools that Sherrel didn't have the faintest idea what they did, but if she had to guess, she knew it would be awesome. Everything here, from the holographic design suite to the microlaser welders, were made to be used. Hell, she thought belligerently, they wanted to be used. To be used to build fantastic vehicles whose actual purpose momentarily escaped Sherrel at just that moment, but she knew they had one.

All around Sherrel, half-finished objects littered the lab's tables, some of them so esoteric she didn't understand them in the slightest. Others, her Tinker sense understood at a fundamental level. Walking around the room, staring at all of the wonders before her, more than anything in the world, Sherrel wanted to jump in and work on them. But she didn't.

Because, while Sherrel did understand how some of the tech in front of her worked, it wasn't made the way she would have made it. For example, that energy rifle that rested upon the lab table nearest to her, why had they made the design so clean and simple? If you added just a few more twists and turns, it would be that much more elegant and beautiful. Of course, it might not work quite as well, but those were the sacrifices you made if you wanted the best.

Sherrel felt her head swim as what made sense to her from a logical standpoint warred with what her ability told her was the best way to do something. Slowly, she forced her Tinker sense back down, taking several deep breaths. No, the things in front of her were beautiful without any additional complications.

It took an effort to find her voice. ″What is this place?″

JARVIS' cultured voice answered immediately, ″My Principal's main laboratory. A number of prototypes are currently under construction, some to be produced here, others to be sold for mass production elsewhere.″

Sherrel immediately spotted the flaw in that statement. ″Tinkertech can't be mass produced. Pull the other one, Jeeves.″

JARVIS' voice was adamant as he stated, ″What you see before you is not Tinkertech, Miss Bailey. My Principal is building these devices using basic science, albeit slightly more advanced than what is currently available to the general public. Then again, my Principal is slightly more advanced than the norm.″

One person was building everything that Sherrel saw before her? One? And everything was mass producible? Any and all of those statements were insane. But the certainty in the other's voice shook the bedrock of Sherrel's views. Who had she fallen in with?

Sherrel breathed, ″Who are you guys?″

″We're the good guys.″

The voice behind her made Sherrel spin around to find herself facing a girl wearing a dark purple leotard with a slash of a lighter lavender crossing over it diagonally. There was an outline of an eye in white in the middle of the girl's chest. A domino mask covered part of the other's face, leaving her long, blonde hair visible, loosely hanging around her shoulders. The vulpine grin that the girl wore like a badge completed the ensemble.

Sherrel rudely asked, ″Who the hell are you? Are you the fucker that kidnapped me?″

The girl's grin, if anything, grew wider as she took in Sherrel's tone. ″I'm Tattletale. And no, I didn't kidnap you. That would be him.″ With that, she pointed at the drone above Sherrel's head.

Confused, Sherrel asked, ″Him who? Jeeves? You're shitting me!″

Tattletale held up her hand and solemnly stated, ″I shit you not. So what do you think of the set up here?″

Sherrel stared at the girl. To tell the truth, she was a little let down by the idea that this was the person who had created this incredible lab. She had expected so much more than Smart-ass Barbie. Grudgingly, she said, ″It's okay.″

Tattletale's grin widened. ″So you don't want one like it, then?″

″W-what?″ Sherrel stuttered, aware that she was making a fool of herself, but unable to stop. ″T-this could be mine?″

Tattletale shrugged. ″Well, not this one. It's belongs to-″

JARVIS interrupted her, ″I do not believe it would be prudent to reveal our Principal's name just yet, Tattletale.″

Tattletale rolled her eyes. ″I wasn't going to tell her that. Sheesh, JARVIS, how about a little credit?″

So this wasn't the person who'd built the place? Sherrel felt a sense of relief as she watched the other girl, her eyes occasionally darting to the drone and then back. ″So you didn't build this?″

Tattletale shook her head. ″Nope. I have other... talents, shall we say.″

Sherrel eyed the girl in a calculating manner. What power could this girl possess? She acted like she knew everything and her name seemed to imply a difficulty in keeping secrets. To test her hypothesis, Sherrel asked, ″What talent is that?″

Tattletale's mocking grin grew faintly cruel. Grandly, she announced, ″I can read minds. Right now, you're thinking about my power. How I act like I know everything and can't keep secrets. Earlier, you thought this was my lab and that it should be someone a lot more impressive who'd built and used it. Earlier still, you were freaking out over how simple and clean the design for that energy rifle was. Want me to go on?″

Sherrel could feel horror crawling through her guts as she stared at the other girl. Her mind flashed to the Simurgh and all of her rumored abilities that the PRT didn't want you to know about. If anything Tattletale's smile grew as if she had just plucked that little tidbit from Sherrel's mind.

There was a weariness to JARVIS' tone as he admonished the blonde, ″Tattletale, must you again pretend to be a mind reader? You know how people feel about it.″

JARVIS' snide tone seemed not to affect the other girl as she shrugged. ″If by people, you mean Danny, then of course I know. But you have to admit it's funny. Uh oh, she's about to get mad.″

Mad? Sherrel was furious. The other girl had played her! Dirty, stinking bitch! She would-

The blonde spoke in a diffident tone, interrupting Sherrel's train of thought, ″You know, if I can't really read minds, but somehow figured out what you were thinking some other way, it might not be the best idea to mess with me. Know what I mean?″

Tattletale's words were like a bucket of cold water for Sherrel, turning the fires of her anger into soggy ash. She stared at the other girl, now certain that she'd figured out her power. The bitch was some kind of Thinker. Or maybe a precog. Yeah, that was possible.

″Besides, it should be JARVIS you're mad at, not me.″

That actually made sense to Sherrel. She started to open her mouth, then stopped. With a feeling of shock, she realized the other girl had just manipulated her. Again.

By this time, Tattletale had approached to within arm's length of her. Sherrel thought about just popping the blonde a good one right on the mouth. After all, you didn't work on big trucks like hers without gaining some serious muscle, but the drone still hanging above her head dissuaded her. Still, she was shocked when Tattletale casually hooked Sherrel's arm one of hers like they were friends.

Equally shocking were Tattletale's words. ″I can see that we're going to be great friends, Sherrel.″

Somehow, Sherrel found her voice, ″Why the fuck do the two of you keep calling me that? I'm not her anymore. I'm Squealer now.″

Tattletale slowly led Sherrel towards a door on the far end of the lab. In a clinical tone, she said, ″I disagree. Squealer's the name of a drug-using loser, who can't do jack shit right. She's hooked up with another loser who fucked her, beat her occasionally, didn't give a rat's ass about her. All in all, Squealer is a complete fucking waste of space.″

Sherrel tried to pull her arm from the other's suddenly steely grip. Tattletale continued, ″On the other hand, Sherrel Bailey is a completely different person. She's someone who tried to do the best she could with a bad hand. Someone who, despite everything that's happened to her, didn't managed to become a monster. Someone who, just maybe, deserves another chance.″

Sherrel felt her eyes sting. What the fuck was wrong with these people? Why wouldn't this bitch leave her alone. And that Jeeves...

Somehow, she found her voice, ″Another chance for what? To make something of myself again? Fuck that. I am what I am.″

Tattletale solemnly shook her head. This close, Sherrel could see the little flecks in her eyes that made them look completely green from a distance. ″To make something of yourself? Hardly. I agree that you are what you are. I'm talking about a chance to help us save the world.″

Just like that, every last bit of bravado drained out of Sherrel as she finally knew what these people wanted from her. They wanted her to die for them. To sacrifice herself to an altar of false belief that there was anything anyone could do to save humanity. Her tone was accusing as Sherrel said, ″You're crazy!″

Tattletale laughed. She fucking laughed. Then she pushed Sherrel into the room on the other side of the door, one that was an exact replica of the one she'd been residing in the past few days. Her vulpine grin was visible from the doorway as she said, ″Oh, Sherrel, you haven't met Crazy yet. Like you, I'm just along for the ride. But don't worry. Crazy will be back in a day or two at most. Then you'll finally get your eyes opened. In the meantime, those are for you. Our 'principal,'″ Sherrel could almost hear the eye roll that accompanied that term, ″wanted you to have something to occupy yourself with. Later.″

Just like that, the other girl left, locking the door behind her.

Sherrel stared at the door a moment, opened her mouth to go on another rant, then slowly closed it again. She was suddenly more tired than she could bear. Sherrel rubbed her fingers across the bridge of her nose, surprised she didn't have a headache to accompany her exhaustion. Then again, headaches seemed to be another of those things that she hadn't experienced since that day she woke up feeling well.

Sherrel walked over to sit upon her bed with the idea of taking a nap. She glanced at the papers sitting on her dining table as she walked by. Then Sherrel stopped, slowly and carefully retracing her steps.

Picking up the first of what looked like a set of partially completed blueprints, Sherrel could feel her eyes get wider and wider. For a couple of moments, she actually forgot to breath, a fact that nature painfully reminded her with as her lungs suddenly screamed for air after some undetermined length of time.

Sherrel carefully sat at the table as if she no longer trusted her legs to support her. Spreading out the plans in front of her with trembling fingers, her eyes devoured every specification, every drawn line. She completely lost track of time.

By the time she finally came up for air, hours had passed. A quick glance to her left told her that one of the drones had delivered her dinner at some point. Although truthfully, Sherrel wasn't hungry. At that moment, she felt more full than if she'd gorged herself on three dinners.

Sherrel stared off into space, her mind going a million miles an hour. Those plans... those plans completely blew her mind. An unfamiliar sensation began to grow within her chest, the sensation almost painful as it filled her. For the first time she actually questioned whether whoever held her captive could actually accomplish the grandiose claim that Tattletale had made to her.

Finally, after sitting in the chair for several minutes in contemplation, Sherrel put a name to the sensation growing inside of her. It was something that she hadn't felt in so long she'd almost forgotten the sensation of it. Warm, inviting, comforting. These were all descriptive adjectives for the intense pressure filling her almost to bursting. But none came so close to describing it as the name itself. For the first time in what truly felt like a million forevers, Sherrel Bailey felt hope.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Adamant stared up at the sky, his visor scanning for the person he hoped to see. Next to him, Feral gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, much to the amusement of the others.

″Oy mate, she your cook now?″ Faust asked, his grin visible beneath his mask.

Adamant shook his head. ″Don't be a dag. Feral's a mate.″

A new cape, Kangaroo Jack, who hadn't been with them in Canberra, whistled. ″She might be a mate, but if so, she's a matey mate.″

Feral gave the cape, who had a cocky look visible on the exposed portion of his face, a hard look. ″Think you're a dunny rat, do ya? Keep it up and I'll see you right stonkered. Maybe you want to dance in one of my fields?″

Kangaroo Jack just shrugged. ″Just having a bit o' fun. No need to chuck a wobbly.″ To Adamant, he said, ″Mate, when's the boss get here again?″

″Yeah, I wouldn't mind knowing that myself,″ Faust stated, his trademark cape floating around his slim shoulders. You could just see the glitter of his eyes behind the thick goggles he wore, while the visible portion of his face wore an expression of impatience.

Adamant wondered just how the other managed the cape trick, then decided it wasn't important. What was important was keeping these people vegged out until Iron Man got here. He wished he'd gone ahead and gotten a slab, but it was too late now. Besides, if he had run out earlier to make a beer run, he'd have missed that thing that Feral did with her tongue. Taking a quick look at his new missus, Adamant made himself focus on the situation at hand.

″Iron Man will be here in a bit. He's a Yank, but it's London to a brick that he'll show.″

From behind them, a voice said, ″I think I can see him.″

Adamant glanced at the speaker, Billabong, who was staring up at the sky. A dark speck rapidly grew until it looked like it was going to hit right in the middle of their group. Adamant had to stop himself from flinching as his armor registered Iron Man going from roughly twelve thousand kilometers per hour to rest almost instantaneously. That and the lack of any form of sonic boom really demonstrated just how advanced the other's armor really was.

Adamant took a couple of steps towards the black and silver armored hero and caught himself right before he saluted. He cringed at the thought of what Faust or Kangaroo Jack would have said to him about that later, then again, they also looked more than a little intimidated by the American cape's spectacular arrival.

Iron Man waved his hand at their group. ″Hello, everyone. As most of you know, I'm Iron Man, an American. Adamant, it's good to see you again.″

Adamant shook the hand offered to him with a sigh of relief. Thank God he hadn't embarrassed himself with someone who he truly admired. ″The same here, Iron Man. You know everyone here, I think, except Kangaroo Jack, Boomerang, and Megalan.″

There was amusement audible in the armored cape's voice even with its synthesized nature. ″Kangaroo Jack?″

The rogue sniffed. ″Yeah. I jump and squash people under my feet. What'd you expect me to call myself, the Toad?″

Iron Man's voice was urbane as he answered, ″Not at all. I like the name actually. It's got moxie. It's nice to meet you all. Boomerang, would you mind revealing your ability?″

The short powerful looking cape, who wore a simple suit of bright red motorcycle leathers and a red helmet, shrugged. His voice was full of bravado as he stated, ″I can return energy-based attacks back to the source, see? So someone hits me with a laser beam or a tazer, I can reflect it back. Or off to one side, but what's the fun in that? I also can store a bit o' energy as well and use it later.″

Iron Man nodded. ″Limitations?″

Boomerang nodded. ″You know it. Attacks too much for me, I get hit with what I didn't reflect or absorb. Not much good against Behemoth or any of those Endbringer sods, if you know what I mean?″

″We'll have to see what we can do about that. Megalan, what's your ability?″

The tall, thin man, dressed all in umber with a simple domino mask, nodded a greeting and said, ″I have my claws that can cut through most things. I'm also fast, strong, and agile. Plus I spit a compound that can put most folks down for a few hours in la la land.″

″You don't sound Australian.″

Megalan shook his head. ″I'm from elsewhere. Now I'm here.″

Adamant stepped forward. ″I vouch for him, Iron Man.″

The armored cape nodded. ″That's fine, Adamant. I trust your judgment. I did ask you to get whoever you could, after all. Is this everyone?″

Adamant couldn't help feeling defensive as he said, ″Unfortunately, yes. There were a couple who couldn't make it because of an emergency. There's another dozen who said maybe. But they won't commit right away. They want to see how it goes.″

Iron Man nodded briskly. ″I would have liked to have more to start. But that's okay. We'll just have to figure out something extra special for the founding members of the team. Maybe a signing bonus or a monument.″

Iron Man took a moment to walk around and greet everyone else. Adamant envied the other his easy manner as he shook hands with a grinning Faust, who was touchy at the best of times. Then Iron Man actually got a hug from Feral, who had expressed her admiration to him on more than one occasion to the point he actually wondered if he needed to be jealous of the other armored cape.

Ronin's nervous manner smoothed out under Iron Man's charm, while the usually serious Billabong joked with him as if he were an old friend. It was a textbook show of setting people at ease and Adamant tried to take mental notes, even as sour notes of jealousy churned in his gut.

Finally, though, Iron Man was back in front of him. ″How did those adjustments we figured out for your power systems work out? See any improvements?″

And just like that, Adamant felt his jealousy melt away. Excitement took its place as he blurted out, ″Fair dinkum it did! Now I can actually hit like a footy with those lasers I installed. I was guarding the divvy van last week and fair gobsmacked this bushranger that tried to jack it.″

″Excellent. I thought that would help you. Is everybody ready for the meeting?″

There was a chorus of aye's and yeah's, and a moment later, Iron Man began talking. A moment later still, Adamant was considering the name the other armored cape had just tossed out and beginning to frown. He slowly raised his hand.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor stared around at the huge crowd surrounding her. Canberra Stadium held approximately forty thousand people according to its website, but there was clearly at least ten thousand more than that in the stadium's crowd. Not to mention at least three times that number in the crowd surrounding the stadium. Far too many to be able to hear her.

But they had planned for just such an eventuality, her, Trish, and JARVIS. Even now, over a hundred drones were in the air, ready to relay Taylor's, as well as the various other dignitaries', words to the crowd inside and outside the stadium, as well as project their images, using powerful holographic projectors. Everyone who had come here would be able to see her live, while the rest of the country and the world watched on television.

To Taylor's left stood the Governor-General of Australia, while to her right stood the Prime Minister. Seated across the stage were various other dignitaries from around the world, including Great Britain's Prime Minister as well as well as the President of the United States. It was a huge outpouring of support for Australia, then again, it was the first time the Simurgh had been stopped without the city she was attacking being quarantined afterward.

Taylor realized that she should be intimidated by all of the statesmen around her, but then again, Tony Stark had met with groups like this on a regular basis, often after saving the world. Other times, he'd had meetings like this to set in place plans that most world leaders had just gone along with simply because of who he was. It was a heady feeling and one that Taylor found herself enjoying probably far too much if she was trying to differentiate herself from the billionaire playboy.

Peter Wallis, Australia's Prime Minister, was wrapping up his speech with the awards phase. ″Iron Man, please accept our thanks for not only saving our capital city, but also because of all of the lives you saved. Many of the people right here owe you their very lives and existences. In recognition of all that you accomplished that day, my countrymen and I want to award you the Cross of Valor, Australia's highest award for courage. You fought the Simurgh face to face and drove her off, for the first time saving the target of her attack. I say thank you, Iron Man. From the bottom of my heart, thank you so very much.″

With that, the diminutive Prime Minister reached up and carefully placed the award around Taylor's neck. She carefully shook his hand, and then the hand of the Governor-General, Jerrold Wilson. All around them, cheers from the huge crowd rang out. It took a few minutes for all of it to subside, but it did, at least until someone else spoke. Then Taylor waited for Governor-General Wilson to speak as well.

″Iron Man, I, too, want to thank you for your willingness to risk yourself for my country. Your courage and actions are an inspiration to us all. In recognition of those actions, my country wishes to make you an honorary citizen of Australia.″ The man paused a moment for effect, the cheers of the crowd rising, then subsiding as he continued, ″Don't worry, I've already cleared it with your own President. From here on out, you'll be a citizen of both of our countries.″

Taylor again shook the hands of both the Prime Minister and Governor-General to the laughs and cheers of the crowd. But they weren't finished just yet. Peter Wallis once again stepped up to the microphone and spoke, ″I have one more duty today. It's a glad one. As many of you know, it is the habit to create a memorial to those fallen during the battles against Endbringers. However, on February 24, 2011, there were no casualties among the heroes who defended us against the Simurgh. That left us in a bit of a quandary as to how to commemorate this date, the first time an Endbringer was driven away without casualties.″

The Prime Minister paused as the crowd around them grew deathly silent. Finally, he continued, emotion audible in his voice, ″Instead of building some statue here in Canberra honoring the hero who saved us, my colleagues and I came up with a different solution. Now all of Australia can honor Iron Man every year from here forward. Today, I announce that henceforth, February 24 will be known as The Day of Iron. It is the day Iron Man saved our capital city and aided Australia in our hour of need.″

Peter Wallis spoke a few more words, but Taylor would need JARVIS to playback to her what he'd said later, as the ringing cheers of the crowd completely drowned out his words. After a moment, the Prime Minister stepped back from the microphone with a rueful smile. Again Taylor shook his hand and that of the Governor-General as the entire stadium and the surrounding area shook with the cheers.

Taylor turned to Peter Wallis and gestured at the microphone stand. The other nodded his understanding and she stepped in front of it to address the crowd. She deliberately waved her hands in an upwards motion, one that Tony's memories had drilled into her a thousand times. The cheers of the crowd redoubled as Taylor held one armored gauntlet next to her head, pretending to be listening for a reaction. After a few moments, Taylor held up her arms, palms forward and allowed silence to descend upon the crowd.

Taylor stood silent a moment, then finally spoke, ″I am honored.″

She had to wait a moment as the renewed cheers rose before subsiding again. ″I am honored by the reaction of the people of this great nation to my actions. I am honored to receive the Cross of Valor. I am honored to be made a citizen of Australia, a great nation of independent and forthright people. And I am humbled that you would name a holiday after me.″

There was silence still as Taylor paused for effect. After a moment, she continued, ″I came here to help. To aid you against foes so terrifying that we gave them names that hearken back to the elder days when gods and demons strode the world and mankind cowered from them, attempting to appease them through sacrifices and worship. As a group, we call them Endbringers, as in beings who will end our race, annihilate us, end us, leave us forgotten upon that great dust heap that we call history. To this, I say nay.″

There were murmurs from all around Taylor as well as from the crowd before her, clearly audible as she paused momentarily. Her voice filled with emotion, which JARVIS allowed to permeate the usually emotionless synthesized tones she projected, ″TO THIS, I SAY NAY! I say we will not go gentle into that good night! Rage, rage, against the dying of the light! I will never surrender to those who are trying to destroy us. Instead, I pledge my life, my future, my existence to their destruction. Today, in front of all of you who have shown me such support I announce this: I am creating weapons that I will use to oppose the Endbringers and any other enemies of Mankind, who believe that we will go gentle into that good night. That we will surrender our lives to their will. To them all, I say this: I will not rest until the day you are dead and buried and humanity is safe again!″ Accompanying her final words, Taylor held her fist up in a gesture of defiance.

The murmurers had fallen silent as Taylor spoke, as if their voices had frozen. Then there was a slow growling sound that escalated, rising louder and louder, until the very stage shook beneath her feet. Men, women, and children were screaming their defiance all around her. Even many of the occupants of the stage behind Taylor were screaming and shaking their fists.

It took nearly fifteen minutes for the pandemonium to die down. Taylor finally held up her hands asking for silence, which eventually arrived. She continued with, ″In aid of that goal, I am announcing a worldwide initiative. A group of heroes whose only goal is the defense of mankind. A group that I am calling the Human Defense Initiative.″

There was a resounding silence from all around Taylor as if the crowd had once again grown uncertain. She grinned inside her helmet, then continued, ″The Human Defense Initiative. Not a catchy title, but one that is needed to show that we are one group in the end. So the local group will officially be called the Human Defense Initiative Canberra. However, it was pointed out to me that name was a bit dry by one of the new members of this league. So, in honor of that, each local group gets to pick its own nickname. Let me present to you, Canberra's very own Southern Stars!″

With that, the curtains at the back of the stage parted and the group that Taylor had been speaking to earlier strode out, walking past the chairs of the dignitaries and forming a loose semi-circle behind her. Each stood in a heroic pose, most with their hands resting upon their hips and their chests out.

There was a slow but steadily growing cheer as they surrounding audience took in the world's newest superhero team. Taylor gave it time to grow, then begin to die off again. ″I want to introduce each member of the Southern Stars, beginning with Boomerang!″

As Taylor said each name, that person would step forward and wave, before stepping back into line. Cheers rang out as the initial, more familiar names were called.

″Ronin!″

″Billabong!″

″The Summoner!″

″Free Fall!″

″Kangeroo Jack!″

″Megalan!″

″And the leader of the Southern Stars, Adamant!″

Again, the crowd was cheering and waving their hands as they recognized the youthful Tinker. Taylor could see smiles on the faces of every member of the new team, even the ever dour, and newly renamed, Summoner. Taylor allowed the cheers to slowly die away again before speaking, ″The Southern Stars are going to be funded by the Human Defense Initiative, not the Australian government. However, Prime Minister Wallis has generously donated the remains of the Australian Academy of Science's Shine Dome to be the headquarters of the Southern Stars. We will rebuild it as closely to the original as possible since it is a part of Canberra's history. Thank you, Prime Minister Wallis!″

The cheers rose again, sounding genuine as apparently a great many Canberrans hadn't like losing the unique building. Taylor finished with, ″I'll be staying for a few days to help with the rebuilding and also to help equip the Southern Stars with my latest technology so as to better allow them to protect you. Thank you, everyone. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.″

Taylor turned and walked back to stand alongside the Southern Stars while several other politicians spoke, including both the President of the United States and the Prime Minister of Great Britain. She probably shouldn't feel so smug that neither got anywhere near the cheers and applause that she had, nor were their speeches a quarter as hard-hitting.

When the Australian Prime Minister finally wrapped things up, Taylor was more than a little relieved. Now she had just had get through a couple of hours of hobnobbing and then she could finally get down to brass tacks with her new team regarding their equipment and training.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Jack Walker, a Republican from the great state of Virginia, who also happened to be the President of the United States, was fairly bored, something that seemed to happen more and more these days. When he'd first become President, every day had seemed fresh and interesting. The international nature of the parties and various meetings he attended on a regular basis had been fascinating.

Now, though, Jack found it all rather humdrum. After all, he knew pretty much every single person worth knowing that was currently attending this affair. He'd also already spoken to most of them and exchanged concerns regarding this new cape venture being sponsored by Iron Man and the Australian government.

Now there was an interesting person, he thought in faint amusement. Iron Man seemed to be everywhere these days, from Jack's daily defense briefing to his briefing on the state of the economy. His clear edge in high tech weaponry was a huge concern to the military, almost equaling how they viewed the Triumvirate, while his 'water engine' had big oil in a major tizzy.

Jack considered most of that hogwash. After all, big oil wasn't so big anymore. And he rather doubted, despite the armored cape's rather dramatic speech, that the Triumvirate had to worry about being eclipsed power-wise anytime soon.

Speaking of the devil, he could see Iron Man being stopped by his security detail while they checked with him to see if he wanted to speak with the armored cape. Despite the fact that four members of the Secret Service present were Parahumans, he rather doubted they'd be able to stop Iron Man if he really wanted to talk to him. So Jack just nodded his agreement for a quick meeting. A moment later, the black and silver armored figure stood in front of him.

″Thank you for seeing me, Mr President.″

Jack's brow went up a bit at the synthesized sound of the other's voice. Acerbically, he asked, ″Do you always drop bombshells of that nature on the international stage, Iron Man?″

Iron Man shrugged, his armor surprisingly articulated and easily getting the gesture across. ″I apologize, Mr President. I did go over this with the Australian Prime Minister and Governor-General before announcing it.″

″Including the fact that a couple of those folks were wanted criminals up until five minutes before your little speech?″

Jack could hear amusement in the other's voice, despite its artificial nature, as Iron Man responded, ″Actually, Mr President, their pardons were signed more than two hours before the ceremony.″

Jack frowned. ″Don't be flip. You're causing a great deal of instability on an international level and I admit to being a bit concerned myself. Your speech was all fire and brimstone, but I noticed that you didn't go into any specifics as to how you plan to deal with the Endbringers. Do you even have a workable plan to back up your grandiose claims or are you going to just wing it?″

″Yes, Mr President, I do. I would say that I'm sorry about worrying you, but the things I'm doing are necessary if we are to defeat the various threats to the human race.″

″Are you planning to share those plans with this administration?″

″No, Mr President. That is need to know information.″

Jack almost admired the other's chutzpah as he registered Iron Man's words. Apparently, he didn't need to know, something he found ironic. There was an equal amount of irony in his own tone as he said, ″You have a lot of nerve coming over to talk with me then. I take it that you want something.″

Iron Man shook his head. ″Not really, Mr President. Rather, I want to help you.″

Coolly, Jack questioned, ″Me as in myself? Or me as in the American government?″

″Perhaps both, Mr President.″

Jack's eyes narrowed in suspicion. ″Exactly what help do you think you would be?″

″To begin, how about equipping a division or two of the Army and Marines with armor that would allow them to outclass the average Parahuman by a factor of four?″

Jack somehow kept the surprise out of his face. Glancing around, he noted that no one else was close enough to listen to their conversation. Still, he suggested, ″Maybe we should take this discussion somewhere private?″

″Actually, Mr President, we are private. I activated an anti-listening device that prevents all forms of electronic and psionic eavesdropping. It even prevents someone from reading our lips. So you don't have to worry about anyone overhearing us. Not even your own security detail.″

Jack had wondered at the stoic expressions on the faces of the Secret Service agents around him. He wouldn't have thought them to be that good at keeping something this big from showing, despite their training and experience, but now he understood. ″How serious are you about equipping our troops? And how much is it going to cost?″

″Deadly serious. The cost per unit is right around two and a half million dollars, Mr President.″

Jack stared at the glowing eye slits of Iron Man's armor, wishing he could see the other's eyes. ″And that will get us suits like the one you're wearing?″

″No, Mr President. I suspect that you would rather not equip the average soldier with a suit of armor that could level an entire city. The ones that I would equip your soldiers with would be just a little less powerful than the one I wore when I fought the Simurgh.″

Just how powerful then was the suit Iron Man was wearing right now, Jack wondered, if he was willing to equip Marines with suits that were 'almost as powerful' as what he'd used to attack the Simurgh. Maybe the analysts were right to classify him in the same terms as the Triumvirate. Aloud, he said, ″And these suits, they'll be capable of being maintained by regular motor pool grunts?″

Iron Man nodded. ″Their pilots can maintain them easily. They won't need a lot of maintenance, but there's a manual of exactly what needs to be done each day and after extended combat tours. I take it this is something that you're interested in, Mr President?″

″Yes.″ The word was out of Jack's mouth before he even stopped to think. After all, who wouldn't want an unstoppable Iron Legion supporting them? Especially when some of the beings on the other side were among the most terrifying on Earth.

″I'll have two suits and a team ready to meet with the Joint Chiefs at their convenience. You can supply the pilots for the demonstration. Regular army 'grunts' preferred.″

Jack started to say that meeting with the Joint Chiefs for a military procurement was a bit out of order, but then again, he knew enough of those old war horses to realize that they would all want to be present.

Parahumans had made the military of most nations almost superfluous. That the CUI used their Parahumans as a military strike force was not lost on the Pentagon. But there had never been a successful attempt to create a Parahuman strike team within the US military. The handful of attempts had all been flops.

However, having regular men and women who had entered the military to serve their countries man armored suits was an entirely different animal. Still, Jack was more than a little bit curious about why Iron Man was making this offer. Deciding he lost nothing by asking, he said, ″Why are you doing this? Why sell us your technology?″

There was an intensity to Iron Man's voice that had not been present before, except during his speech, as he said, ″Mr President, let's just say I believe that government of the people, by the people, for the people, should not perish from the earth. I want us to take back our country from the Parahumans who would try to terrorize us. For the rule of law to once again become the most significant force in our country, not the rule of might.″

To say Jack was surprised was an understatement. Of course, he recognized the quote that Iron Man paraphrased. The Gettysburg Address was one of the greatest speeches by an American President in US history. Once again, Jack wished he could see Iron Man's face, judge his expression face to face, because God help him, he believed that the other was actually completely serious.

And if Iron Man was serious, the can of worms that he was about to open made an Endbringer attack seem almost tame. No longer even remotely bored, Jack slowly nodded. ″All right, then. I'll arrange for the meeting between your team and the Joint Chiefs. I take it you already have a manufacturer arranged for these suits you're selling us?″

Iron Man nodded. ″HTech, headquartered in Brockton Bay, Mr President.″

Jack nodded in acknowledgment. He recognized the name of the US Military's newest and quite possible most important supplier. Those Psionic Dampeners had taken the country by storm, with even Jack wearing one under his tailored suit sleeve. That first shipment has also supplied most of Congress as well.

Of course, the PRT was taking credit for the device's proliferation. However, after talking to Iron Man, Jack didn't have the slightest doubt that the other was far more responsible for their dissemination than the PRT.

Jack quietly nodded his agreement. ″That should be fine. I believe they've already been fast-tracked into the system. By the way, just how many of those Psionic things do you have under order currently?″

″Just under four and a half million, Mr President. That's the US sales. There's a slightly larger order internationally, but of course, America takes priority.″

Spoken like a patriot, Jack thought. Most of the suspicions he'd harbored were gone, although he would continue to be cautious and guard the interests of his constituents. ″And you'll be able to meet demands for the armored units? Especially if we decide to pour a significant percentage of the military's annual budget into purchases?″

″I will be able to make any and all deadlines, Mr President. On that, you have my word.″

Slowly, Jack held out a cautious hand, only for it to be taken into a firm, but not crushing grip. ″Sounds like a good deal to me, Iron Man. Sounds like a very good deal to me.″

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Australian slang:

Missus: Girlfriend or wife

Cook: Girlfriend or wife

Dag: Funny person, nerd, goof

Mate: Friend

Dunny rat: Very cunning being

Stonkered: Beaten, defeated, cornered, perplexed

Feral (n.): Hippie

Chuck a wobbly: Excitable behavior

Vegged out: Relaxed in front of the TV

Slab: Case of beer (24 cans)

London to a brick: Absolute certainty

Fair dinkum: True, genuine

Footy: Australian Rules football

Divvy van: Police vehicle used for transporting criminals

Gobsmacked: Surprised, astounded

Bushranger: Highwayman, outlaw

~~~Memories of Iron~~