There were very few news releases to edit that afternoon, so Ben Fowler clicked the Microsoft Word tab on the taskbar at the bottom of the screen, bringing it up. He casually looked around to see if anyone was watching him, but no one seemed interested in what he was doing. Tim Ito was on the phone with someone, probably some public relations person or other.

He reread the short paragraph that he'd written and thought for a moment before writing what came next. Whenever he tried to remember it, the events became ephemeral and slipped away, so he just had to let it come to him as he wrote. No concentration required. No self-editing, not until the story was done.

Ben began typing.



One day, at a U.S. government lab, two scientists in lab coats gape in wonder as a man wearing an odd, all-black, skintight uniform covering his entire body and head crashes through the wall.

"Great Scott!" says the first scientist. "That man is stealing our rare radioactive isotope."

The other scientist adds, "We need that isotope to complete our experiments! But who other than Metaman has the power to crash through reinforced titanium steel walls?"

Elsewhere, the world is baffled as similarly clad men with mighty powers steal experimental ballistic missiles, supplies of uranium, and many other treasures. The black-clad metahumans are seen in locations all around the globe, and no ordinary law enforcement agencies are able to stop them.

The President of the United States picks up a special phone. "Get me in touch with, err, uh... Metaman."

Bureaucrats and former metaheroes alike gather for a special meeting at the United Nations, where the U.N. Board of Metahumans, a non-governmental organization, is based.

Mister Sect, the current chairman of the Meta Board, convenes the meeting by saying, "Where is Metaman?"

Just then, three black-clad metahumans burst into the chamber, attacking all the ex-metaheroes sitting on the board. They leave them all injured but alive. Mister Sect, barely conscious, reaches an emergency button and pushes it. Before he lapses into unconsciousness, he breathes, "Metaman... we need you..."



"Are you joking?"

Ben jumps out of his seat as Tim spoke from behind him. "Stop doing that!" Ben said. "Do you always walk up behind someone and stand right there before saying a word? You startled me, man."

"Mm," Tim muttered. He was reading. "Mmm... Ben, Ben, this is... God... this is just plain awful."

Ben frowned. "What do you...?"

"This is so beneath you, Ben. I know you can write better than this. This is just trash, worse even than most fanfic. What were you thinking writing this?"

"It's just a first draft, Tim," Ben replied.

"Oh, God, I hope so," Tim laughed. "Because I haven't read anything this awful in a long time. It doesn't even qualify as stream of consciousness writing. Ben, what were you thinking?"

Ben looked up to see Tim chuckling at him. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Nah, it's a slow day. I'd rather pester you, buddy." Tim swung a mock punch and lightly cuffed Ben's chin. "So who's this 'Mister Sect' guy? And the 'Board of Metahumans'?"

"Just stuff I made up," Ben grumbled.

"Oh, so you're admitting it?" Tim said triumphantly. "Fanficcer."

"It's not fanfic! Why do you keep calling it that?"

"Hey, if the shoe fits... and... any other number of outdated cliches that apply."

"If you must know, Mister Sect was a Golden Age hero, too, one of the members of the Mysterymen Board Society, the MBS."

"Never heard of them."

"Of course you haven't. They were FDR's secret weapons during the war, in case the Nazis or the Japanese invaded."

Tim Ito chuckled. "I wonder if my grandfather met them sometime during the war. He was in the Imperial Japanese Army... but he was pretty much stationed in the Phillippines during of the war."

"Probably not. The MBS mostly operated within the continental United States. Anyway, Mister Sect and Metamen were both founding members of the MBS, along with Doc Quantum, Timmy Trust, and several others."

"Wait a minute," Tim said. "There was a metahero called 'Timmy Trust' during the war? What was his power -- causing people to trust him?" He laughed.

"No, Trust was an android."

"Robot?"

"No, an android. He had enhanced strength, some android abilities, and some largely undefined power over time. I don't know too much about him."

"It."

"Him," Ben corrected. "He was sentient, after all."

"Don't go throwing your Star Trek words at me, Trekkie fanficcer," Tim said condescendingly.

"Well, anyway, after the war Metaman helped set up a non-governmental board with the U.N. to monitor metahumans all around the world, pledging that they'd keep metas in check as long as the governments of the world don't outlaw them. Metaman agreed to be the first chairman of the Meta Board, but he had retired by 1958, when Mister Sect took over as chair."

"And what was Mister Sect's meta power -- the ability to cause religious dissention in the ranks?" Tim said, smirking.

"No, he was an outright vigilante at first who carried advanced weaponry from another world," said Ben. "I don't think he was an actual meta, but he could summon through a portal two female shapechangers as backup."

"I wish I had that power," Tim muttered. "Oh yeah, that would be sweet."

"What was that?" said Ben.

"Nothing. I'm, uh... I'll be in the washroom for a few minutes. I don't want to be disturbed."

"Whatever," Ben said, rolling his eyes.