Post by dans on Jan 19, 2023 17:24:09 GMT
continued from: The Gravity Girl of Smallville, the story of what might have happened if Superboy hadn't destroyed Lana Lang's Gravity Belt...
Over the next few weeks, Lana spent her every free minute following up on the comprehensive training plan Bouncing Boy and Triplicate Girl had provided her, as well as testing out the capabilities of the biologic holographic image inducer she’d received from Chameleon Boy and the virtually indestructible costume she’d received from Invisible Kid.
A great feature of the costume was that by pressing a secret button on the costume’s insignia, a ‘hood/helmet’ that covered her whole head would be exuded from the cape around her head. This helmet provided her head with the same protection the costume provided her body – with the additional benefit that the hood-mask also provided a breathable atmosphere which could support her in outer space, underwater, and in poisonous atmospheres. The image inducer projected an image which only affected her head and could only be ‘tuned’ to a single image at a time – tuning it to display another image was possible but required several minutes of concentration and a clear visualization of the desired new image in order to change – though the new image could be ‘turned off’ and the default image (Susan Heart, the ‘Beach Bunny’ Hollywood actress) restored with only a single thought. She experimented and discovered that the image projector would hide the helmet, so she _could_ wear her hood/helmet under the image if she desired. But there might be some social disadvantages to that, so she decided she was only going to wear the helmet in special circumstances.
During those weeks she had a number of independent adventures:
***
In a valley in the hills around Smallville, a valley she hoped no one else ever visited, Lana Lang was seated at a desk in a well-constructed small shack, a shack she had built and furnished herself as Gravity Girl. She was sipping a Smallville Soda™ cola while intently studying the ‘Get to Know Your Powers’ training guide prepared for her by Bouncing Boy and Triplicate Girl, absently humming along while her latest favorite song, ‘The Babes on the Beach’, a ballad by the Coastal Chaps, was playing on the local station KSMV. Suddenly the song was interrupted by an emergency news flash. “A major shipwreck has been reported in the Falkland Islands. The cruise ship Santa Lenora has been hulled, apparently by a left-over World War II mine, and is sinking with all crew and passengers aboard. The Falkland Navy has asked the US for immediate assistance, and Superboy has been notified. Stay tuned for future bulletins!”
‘I’ve always thought that news flashes like that are irresponsible,’ she thought sternly. ‘Why not tell every crook in Smallville that Superboy is out of town? Well, now they have Gravity Girl to worry about!”
With that, she floated out of her cabin headquarters, then zoomed away towards Smallville. She figured the Boy of Steel would be out of town for a minimum of several hours, and apparently some local crooks figured the same thing; about an hour into her patrol the radio in her Gravity Belt (using advanced tech circuitry adapted from the ancient alien technology by Brainiac 5 to capture ‘primitive’ mid-20s radio signals) brought her a report of a robbery at the First National Bank of Smallville.
She wasn’t as fast as Superboy; the crooks were already on the way out the door and piling into their getaway car when she arrived. She flashed down to street level and zoomed around the car, using a forefinger to poke holes in each of the tires, then flashed in front of the car, which ground to a screeching halt as it collapsed onto the frame before it could reach her. She then raced to the passenger doors and tore them off the hinges, and pulled out the woozy robbers, one from the front seat and one from the back, and knocked them out before either could fire a shot. She moved around to the driver door, but he already had both hands on his head in surrender. She pulled his door off anyway.
“Geez Louise!” he swore at the top of his lungs. “Boss Drick said this would be easy with Superbrat outta town! Nobody said nuthin’ about some super duper bimbo!”
She grabbed the front of his shirt in a fist and easily lifted him off the ground. “Better show a little respect, punk – I could crush you like an insect! All of you crooks are going to have to learn that there’s a new super girl in town, now – that would be ME!” A Smallville patrol car skidded to a halt, and two cops jumped out. “They’re all yours, boys, courtesy of Gravity Girl!”
***
The Smallville High School science club was touring the Smallville Soda Bottling Works after normal school/work hours when the fire alarm went off. The PA system began blaring an announcement. “All employees, please evacuate the plant immediately following Escape Plan A! This is not a drill! Avoid the Carbonation Room where a fire has broken out and evacuate through the nearest emergency exit. Repeat, this is NOT a drill. Follow Escape Plan A and exit the building immediately through the nearest emergency exit!”
The tour had just left the Carbonation Room after an extensive lecture on what happened there. This was where the carbonated water used in the production of the locally-produced Smallville Sodas were given their fizz, by infusing plain old water with carbon dioxide. In the next room, before they could begin responding to the alarm and locate the nearest emergency exits, the Science Club and their guide were knocked from their collective feet by a massive explosion in the Carbonation Room.
‘This looks like a job for… Gravity Girl!’ Lana Lang thought as she rolled under a massive lab table and pulled her Gravity Belt from her bulky purse, then wrapped it around her waist. Already she could hear the roar of flames from the next room. She had her costume on under her clothes and as she stripped them off, she pressed the button to exude the helmet as well. The impervious 30th century fabric would give her some protection from the flames and heat, but if there was another explosion, she might still be injured. She was going to have to fight this fire with her brains, as well as her powers. But she had been paying attention to the guide, and as a Science Club member, she had a good idea of what to do.
‘A fire needs oxygen to burn and can’t burn if it is smothered in carbon dioxide. I should be able to fill the Carbonization Room with CO2 and choke that fire to death. Lucky place for a fire, actually!’
She wriggled out from under the table and crawled back to the door to the Carbonation Room, counting on their rush to the exit to shield her from the notice of her friends, then zoomed around the vat room, looking for victims. Luckily for everyone involved, the day shift had already gone home and the night shift consisted of only a small team of maintenance workers – who had been summarily banished by the guide (the plant manager) for other parts of the plant when the tour had entered that big room. She found no one. Then she zoomed up to the scaffolding in the ceiling for a better look at the fire. Most of the vats had hoods over them, which connected to exhaust fans, but several were being cleaned right now and the hoods had been removed – and whatever had been left behind in those vats was now burning, intensely hot!
‘What are they putting in our soft drinks that burn like THAT?’ Gravity Girl asked herself in horror. ‘Something to worry about later, I guess!’ She flew to a workstation – a big metal desk where the tour had stopped earlier, and picked up the desk. ‘Not nearly as heavy as that super compressed steel ball Superboy tried to trick me with!’ she thought crossly, ‘But it should be enough to do the trick!’
Carbon Dioxide gas was piped into this room in pipes strung through the scaffolding, from high pressure tanks housed in a separate annex building. From the rat's nest of pipes threaded through the scaffolding that held up the sheet metal ceiling, pipes labeled 'Danger: High Pressure" dropped to the base of each vat, and when a vat was full of fresh water, CO2 gas under high pressure bubbled up from the base of the vat through the water for several hours, until the proper carbonation level was reached. Carrying the desk, Gravity Girl flew toward the CO2 pipes nearest the fire, and when she couldn’t get any closer because of the heat, she threw the heavy desk. It smashed through several of the high-pressure CO2 lines, and the gas started to blast out of the ends of the broken pipes and settle over the fire. Lana circled the vast room at her top speed, making sure all the doors were closed. By the time she was finished, the fire was already out, but the room was still dangerous for anyone not in a spacesuit, filled with CO2. She went out the exit and greeted Superboy, who was just arriving.
“Superboy, glad you are here! I put out the fire, but the big room is still filling with CO2. Can you take over for me? I have to hurry home – one of my family members is in the hospital and I need to go see her!” It wasn’t quite a lie; one of her cats, an elderly Siamese named Bandit, had suffered a stroke yesterday, and she needed an excuse to leave right now in order to protect her identity. The Boy of Steel turned to the plant, and Gravity Girl took to the sky. One of the first things Superboy did after talking to the crowd standing outside the plant was search it; Mr. B, the advisor to the Science Club, was frantic when he realized Lana was missing! Superboy quickly found her in the office unconscious under a desk where she’d been thrown by the explosion…
***
For her Social Studies class with Mr. Hoover (and Mrs. Hoover was her English teacher…), Lana was doing her Term Paper on ‘The Decline of the American Railroad Industry’. She’d done a lot of reading, even gone to the city to use the larger library there, and also interviewed several of the local Mid-West and Central executives, the major rail company servicing Smallville. One of the executives had mentioned something interesting, then clammed up when she’d tried to follow up.
“There have been a number of recent incidents of railroad sabotage, Mr. Breen,” she’d mentioned. “Are these incidents contributing to the decline in rail business?”
“That &*%%@#^ed ‘Track Troll’!” he’d snapped in anger, then… “Pardon my language, Miss Lang!”
Lana chuckled. “I’ve heard worse, believe me!” Then she turned serious as she followed up. “But who is this ‘Track Troll’? Does he have anything to do with the sabotage?”
“Some villain who claims to be responsible for all the sabotage incidents, and then he goes to the railroad companies and demands protection money against future disasters…” he swore again, using stronger words, apparently reassured by Lana’s blasé acceptance of his earlier language.
“I see. It’s funny the general public hasn’t heard about the Track Troll before?” she made it a question.
“As you’ve noted, Miss Lang, the revenue of the railroad business has been in decline since the end of World War II. It could be very bad for business if the general public knew more about this saboteur.” He sounded very unhappy to have to say this.
“It could be deadly for the people on any train, NOT to know more!” she snapped back. “You are putting people’s lives at risk by keeping this a secret!” His face flushed and he turned away. She had a stunning thought. “SAY! Has MWCentral received any threats? Why don’t you call in Superboy or Gravity Girl?”
“Umm…” Breen was clearly uncomfortable. “Company private information, Miss Lang. I apologize, but it is above my pay grade to discuss it.” He was wringing his hands together. “But I assure you, if I knew that the Track Troll was threatening our trains anywhere, but especially in the Smallville area, I would insist that my superiors notify Superboy!”
‘What about Gravity Girl?’ she thought in annoyance, but didn’t say. Though she asked further questions, he refused to discuss the sabotage any further – and when she changed the subject, he was still reluctant to talk. Finally she gave up. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Breen. I hope you have a wonderful day.” Her chilly voice belied the sentiment she expressed…
And a half hour later, Gravity Girl was flying above the rail line that serviced Smallville. And where the line passed through a wooded copse a few miles east of town, she discovered… a small truck, parked on the rails. It was far from any crossings; as she got closer she could see that it was a dual-mode truck which had two sets of wheels, normal and train, which allowed it to run on roads or train tracks. In the middle of the copse there was a track switch that led to the long unused siding for the abandoned World War II munitions plant. A man in a bulky armored costume was laboring over the switch, using some kind of power tool to force it to divert the next westbound train onto the siding.
“The Track Troll! Well, I’ll put a stop to HIM!” She zoomed down out of the sky and slammed into him with both fists outstretched. He was battered backwards through the air and smashed through several trees before he fell to the ground, but then he jumped instantly to his feet. He aimed both arms at the fast-following Gravity Girl and she slammed into something invisible that threw her backwards, and she was barely able to stop herself before SHE smashed into a tree. She righted herself and zoomed forward and picked up his truck and threw it at him with all the force she could muster and once again he was knocked backward and the truck landed on top of him. Whatever force he was using knocked the truck aside, but by now Gravity Girl was right next to him.
“Can you fly in that outfit?” she asked him. “You’re going to need to!” She grabbed him and zoomed straight up into the air as fast as she could, and by the time he could react they were already a quarter mile up. “OK, surrender, or I drop you!” She used her power to cancel gravity under him, just in case, and released her grip with one hand just to prove she wasn’t bluffing.
“You wouldn’t DARE! You heroes have a code against killing!” he snarled back – or tried to snarl, but it came out more like a choke.
“And who told you THAT?” she asked. “I’m not Superboy, obviously.” She dropped him deliberately, then flew downward, pacing him and staying close enough to use her gravity power to keep his gravity partially nullified and he wouldn’t fall quite as fast as normal… and then he screamed:
“I SURRENDER! DON’T DROP ME!”
“Where’s the power supply for your weapons?” she asked.
“There’s a battery on either side of my belt…” he stammered in reply, apparently bewildered.
“Better be telling the truth or I won’t catch you the next time!” She pulled first one, then the other, of the bulky batteries loose from his belt and noted with satisfaction that sparks leaped from the ripped out wires – and then his body stiffened and he stopped moving.
“No power to exoskeleton… can’t move… can’t breath…” he gasped. “Take off my… helmet… clasp at back… of neck…” She could barely hear him; she made sure his gravity was cancelled again and spun him around – and found the recessed latch for the helmet, released it, pulled it off – and where he could see, she used her hands to scrunch the tough metal of the helmet into a crumpled ball of scrap.
“Be a good boy, or that could happen to you. Now tell me what you were doing!” The track to the munitions station was a couple miles long – even if the incoming 4:10 Westbound was diverted to the siding, it would have time to stop safely. Making a train late hardly seemed like a deadly sabotage threat.
“Wrecked the siding track a little ways in – close enough that the train can’t stop in time…” he gasped out. “Just put the switch back and everything will be alright…”
“You’d better be right!” The Track Troll seemed to be locked into his now-rigid armor and couldn’t move; she placed him on the ground next to the wrecked truck and examined the switch. The Track Troll had been using some kind of hydraulic pressor tool to force it closed after probably a decade of disuse; it required all of her great strength to force it back to the open position. It looked safe but she wasn’t a track expert; she decided to make sure. She zoomed off to the east along the track; it was about 3:50 so the 4:10 Westbound was not far away. She zoomed up to the locomotive, tapped on the window to make sure the engine crew knew she was there, then landed on the platform and knocked on the door. It took some convincing but a flying girl was a pretty compelling argument and eventually the train crew agreed to stop the train short of the switch.
To her chagrin, the Track Troll had managed to open his armor and escape – but the engineer and brakeman agreed that it would be safe to proceed across the abused switch and into town – though they opined that the switch really ought to be replaced with a normal track as soon as possible. They clearly still didn’t want to believe Gravity Girl’s story, but the abandoned armor and hydraulic tool and the wrecked truck were once again, pretty compelling arguments.
The 4:10 was a little late that day, and the Track Troll had escaped, but everyone was safe. A welding crew welded the switch into the open position, the best MWCentral could do with their declining revenue, and Gravity Girl made the paper again!
A great feature of the costume was that by pressing a secret button on the costume’s insignia, a ‘hood/helmet’ that covered her whole head would be exuded from the cape around her head. This helmet provided her head with the same protection the costume provided her body – with the additional benefit that the hood-mask also provided a breathable atmosphere which could support her in outer space, underwater, and in poisonous atmospheres. The image inducer projected an image which only affected her head and could only be ‘tuned’ to a single image at a time – tuning it to display another image was possible but required several minutes of concentration and a clear visualization of the desired new image in order to change – though the new image could be ‘turned off’ and the default image (Susan Heart, the ‘Beach Bunny’ Hollywood actress) restored with only a single thought. She experimented and discovered that the image projector would hide the helmet, so she _could_ wear her hood/helmet under the image if she desired. But there might be some social disadvantages to that, so she decided she was only going to wear the helmet in special circumstances.
During those weeks she had a number of independent adventures:
***
In a valley in the hills around Smallville, a valley she hoped no one else ever visited, Lana Lang was seated at a desk in a well-constructed small shack, a shack she had built and furnished herself as Gravity Girl. She was sipping a Smallville Soda™ cola while intently studying the ‘Get to Know Your Powers’ training guide prepared for her by Bouncing Boy and Triplicate Girl, absently humming along while her latest favorite song, ‘The Babes on the Beach’, a ballad by the Coastal Chaps, was playing on the local station KSMV. Suddenly the song was interrupted by an emergency news flash. “A major shipwreck has been reported in the Falkland Islands. The cruise ship Santa Lenora has been hulled, apparently by a left-over World War II mine, and is sinking with all crew and passengers aboard. The Falkland Navy has asked the US for immediate assistance, and Superboy has been notified. Stay tuned for future bulletins!”
‘I’ve always thought that news flashes like that are irresponsible,’ she thought sternly. ‘Why not tell every crook in Smallville that Superboy is out of town? Well, now they have Gravity Girl to worry about!”
With that, she floated out of her cabin headquarters, then zoomed away towards Smallville. She figured the Boy of Steel would be out of town for a minimum of several hours, and apparently some local crooks figured the same thing; about an hour into her patrol the radio in her Gravity Belt (using advanced tech circuitry adapted from the ancient alien technology by Brainiac 5 to capture ‘primitive’ mid-20s radio signals) brought her a report of a robbery at the First National Bank of Smallville.
She wasn’t as fast as Superboy; the crooks were already on the way out the door and piling into their getaway car when she arrived. She flashed down to street level and zoomed around the car, using a forefinger to poke holes in each of the tires, then flashed in front of the car, which ground to a screeching halt as it collapsed onto the frame before it could reach her. She then raced to the passenger doors and tore them off the hinges, and pulled out the woozy robbers, one from the front seat and one from the back, and knocked them out before either could fire a shot. She moved around to the driver door, but he already had both hands on his head in surrender. She pulled his door off anyway.
“Geez Louise!” he swore at the top of his lungs. “Boss Drick said this would be easy with Superbrat outta town! Nobody said nuthin’ about some super duper bimbo!”
She grabbed the front of his shirt in a fist and easily lifted him off the ground. “Better show a little respect, punk – I could crush you like an insect! All of you crooks are going to have to learn that there’s a new super girl in town, now – that would be ME!” A Smallville patrol car skidded to a halt, and two cops jumped out. “They’re all yours, boys, courtesy of Gravity Girl!”
***
The Smallville High School science club was touring the Smallville Soda Bottling Works after normal school/work hours when the fire alarm went off. The PA system began blaring an announcement. “All employees, please evacuate the plant immediately following Escape Plan A! This is not a drill! Avoid the Carbonation Room where a fire has broken out and evacuate through the nearest emergency exit. Repeat, this is NOT a drill. Follow Escape Plan A and exit the building immediately through the nearest emergency exit!”
The tour had just left the Carbonation Room after an extensive lecture on what happened there. This was where the carbonated water used in the production of the locally-produced Smallville Sodas were given their fizz, by infusing plain old water with carbon dioxide. In the next room, before they could begin responding to the alarm and locate the nearest emergency exits, the Science Club and their guide were knocked from their collective feet by a massive explosion in the Carbonation Room.
‘This looks like a job for… Gravity Girl!’ Lana Lang thought as she rolled under a massive lab table and pulled her Gravity Belt from her bulky purse, then wrapped it around her waist. Already she could hear the roar of flames from the next room. She had her costume on under her clothes and as she stripped them off, she pressed the button to exude the helmet as well. The impervious 30th century fabric would give her some protection from the flames and heat, but if there was another explosion, she might still be injured. She was going to have to fight this fire with her brains, as well as her powers. But she had been paying attention to the guide, and as a Science Club member, she had a good idea of what to do.
‘A fire needs oxygen to burn and can’t burn if it is smothered in carbon dioxide. I should be able to fill the Carbonization Room with CO2 and choke that fire to death. Lucky place for a fire, actually!’
She wriggled out from under the table and crawled back to the door to the Carbonation Room, counting on their rush to the exit to shield her from the notice of her friends, then zoomed around the vat room, looking for victims. Luckily for everyone involved, the day shift had already gone home and the night shift consisted of only a small team of maintenance workers – who had been summarily banished by the guide (the plant manager) for other parts of the plant when the tour had entered that big room. She found no one. Then she zoomed up to the scaffolding in the ceiling for a better look at the fire. Most of the vats had hoods over them, which connected to exhaust fans, but several were being cleaned right now and the hoods had been removed – and whatever had been left behind in those vats was now burning, intensely hot!
‘What are they putting in our soft drinks that burn like THAT?’ Gravity Girl asked herself in horror. ‘Something to worry about later, I guess!’ She flew to a workstation – a big metal desk where the tour had stopped earlier, and picked up the desk. ‘Not nearly as heavy as that super compressed steel ball Superboy tried to trick me with!’ she thought crossly, ‘But it should be enough to do the trick!’
Carbon Dioxide gas was piped into this room in pipes strung through the scaffolding, from high pressure tanks housed in a separate annex building. From the rat's nest of pipes threaded through the scaffolding that held up the sheet metal ceiling, pipes labeled 'Danger: High Pressure" dropped to the base of each vat, and when a vat was full of fresh water, CO2 gas under high pressure bubbled up from the base of the vat through the water for several hours, until the proper carbonation level was reached. Carrying the desk, Gravity Girl flew toward the CO2 pipes nearest the fire, and when she couldn’t get any closer because of the heat, she threw the heavy desk. It smashed through several of the high-pressure CO2 lines, and the gas started to blast out of the ends of the broken pipes and settle over the fire. Lana circled the vast room at her top speed, making sure all the doors were closed. By the time she was finished, the fire was already out, but the room was still dangerous for anyone not in a spacesuit, filled with CO2. She went out the exit and greeted Superboy, who was just arriving.
“Superboy, glad you are here! I put out the fire, but the big room is still filling with CO2. Can you take over for me? I have to hurry home – one of my family members is in the hospital and I need to go see her!” It wasn’t quite a lie; one of her cats, an elderly Siamese named Bandit, had suffered a stroke yesterday, and she needed an excuse to leave right now in order to protect her identity. The Boy of Steel turned to the plant, and Gravity Girl took to the sky. One of the first things Superboy did after talking to the crowd standing outside the plant was search it; Mr. B, the advisor to the Science Club, was frantic when he realized Lana was missing! Superboy quickly found her in the office unconscious under a desk where she’d been thrown by the explosion…
***
For her Social Studies class with Mr. Hoover (and Mrs. Hoover was her English teacher…), Lana was doing her Term Paper on ‘The Decline of the American Railroad Industry’. She’d done a lot of reading, even gone to the city to use the larger library there, and also interviewed several of the local Mid-West and Central executives, the major rail company servicing Smallville. One of the executives had mentioned something interesting, then clammed up when she’d tried to follow up.
“There have been a number of recent incidents of railroad sabotage, Mr. Breen,” she’d mentioned. “Are these incidents contributing to the decline in rail business?”
“That &*%%@#^ed ‘Track Troll’!” he’d snapped in anger, then… “Pardon my language, Miss Lang!”
Lana chuckled. “I’ve heard worse, believe me!” Then she turned serious as she followed up. “But who is this ‘Track Troll’? Does he have anything to do with the sabotage?”
“Some villain who claims to be responsible for all the sabotage incidents, and then he goes to the railroad companies and demands protection money against future disasters…” he swore again, using stronger words, apparently reassured by Lana’s blasé acceptance of his earlier language.
“I see. It’s funny the general public hasn’t heard about the Track Troll before?” she made it a question.
“As you’ve noted, Miss Lang, the revenue of the railroad business has been in decline since the end of World War II. It could be very bad for business if the general public knew more about this saboteur.” He sounded very unhappy to have to say this.
“It could be deadly for the people on any train, NOT to know more!” she snapped back. “You are putting people’s lives at risk by keeping this a secret!” His face flushed and he turned away. She had a stunning thought. “SAY! Has MWCentral received any threats? Why don’t you call in Superboy or Gravity Girl?”
“Umm…” Breen was clearly uncomfortable. “Company private information, Miss Lang. I apologize, but it is above my pay grade to discuss it.” He was wringing his hands together. “But I assure you, if I knew that the Track Troll was threatening our trains anywhere, but especially in the Smallville area, I would insist that my superiors notify Superboy!”
‘What about Gravity Girl?’ she thought in annoyance, but didn’t say. Though she asked further questions, he refused to discuss the sabotage any further – and when she changed the subject, he was still reluctant to talk. Finally she gave up. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Breen. I hope you have a wonderful day.” Her chilly voice belied the sentiment she expressed…
And a half hour later, Gravity Girl was flying above the rail line that serviced Smallville. And where the line passed through a wooded copse a few miles east of town, she discovered… a small truck, parked on the rails. It was far from any crossings; as she got closer she could see that it was a dual-mode truck which had two sets of wheels, normal and train, which allowed it to run on roads or train tracks. In the middle of the copse there was a track switch that led to the long unused siding for the abandoned World War II munitions plant. A man in a bulky armored costume was laboring over the switch, using some kind of power tool to force it to divert the next westbound train onto the siding.
“The Track Troll! Well, I’ll put a stop to HIM!” She zoomed down out of the sky and slammed into him with both fists outstretched. He was battered backwards through the air and smashed through several trees before he fell to the ground, but then he jumped instantly to his feet. He aimed both arms at the fast-following Gravity Girl and she slammed into something invisible that threw her backwards, and she was barely able to stop herself before SHE smashed into a tree. She righted herself and zoomed forward and picked up his truck and threw it at him with all the force she could muster and once again he was knocked backward and the truck landed on top of him. Whatever force he was using knocked the truck aside, but by now Gravity Girl was right next to him.
“Can you fly in that outfit?” she asked him. “You’re going to need to!” She grabbed him and zoomed straight up into the air as fast as she could, and by the time he could react they were already a quarter mile up. “OK, surrender, or I drop you!” She used her power to cancel gravity under him, just in case, and released her grip with one hand just to prove she wasn’t bluffing.
“You wouldn’t DARE! You heroes have a code against killing!” he snarled back – or tried to snarl, but it came out more like a choke.
“And who told you THAT?” she asked. “I’m not Superboy, obviously.” She dropped him deliberately, then flew downward, pacing him and staying close enough to use her gravity power to keep his gravity partially nullified and he wouldn’t fall quite as fast as normal… and then he screamed:
“I SURRENDER! DON’T DROP ME!”
“Where’s the power supply for your weapons?” she asked.
“There’s a battery on either side of my belt…” he stammered in reply, apparently bewildered.
“Better be telling the truth or I won’t catch you the next time!” She pulled first one, then the other, of the bulky batteries loose from his belt and noted with satisfaction that sparks leaped from the ripped out wires – and then his body stiffened and he stopped moving.
“No power to exoskeleton… can’t move… can’t breath…” he gasped. “Take off my… helmet… clasp at back… of neck…” She could barely hear him; she made sure his gravity was cancelled again and spun him around – and found the recessed latch for the helmet, released it, pulled it off – and where he could see, she used her hands to scrunch the tough metal of the helmet into a crumpled ball of scrap.
“Be a good boy, or that could happen to you. Now tell me what you were doing!” The track to the munitions station was a couple miles long – even if the incoming 4:10 Westbound was diverted to the siding, it would have time to stop safely. Making a train late hardly seemed like a deadly sabotage threat.
“Wrecked the siding track a little ways in – close enough that the train can’t stop in time…” he gasped out. “Just put the switch back and everything will be alright…”
“You’d better be right!” The Track Troll seemed to be locked into his now-rigid armor and couldn’t move; she placed him on the ground next to the wrecked truck and examined the switch. The Track Troll had been using some kind of hydraulic pressor tool to force it closed after probably a decade of disuse; it required all of her great strength to force it back to the open position. It looked safe but she wasn’t a track expert; she decided to make sure. She zoomed off to the east along the track; it was about 3:50 so the 4:10 Westbound was not far away. She zoomed up to the locomotive, tapped on the window to make sure the engine crew knew she was there, then landed on the platform and knocked on the door. It took some convincing but a flying girl was a pretty compelling argument and eventually the train crew agreed to stop the train short of the switch.
To her chagrin, the Track Troll had managed to open his armor and escape – but the engineer and brakeman agreed that it would be safe to proceed across the abused switch and into town – though they opined that the switch really ought to be replaced with a normal track as soon as possible. They clearly still didn’t want to believe Gravity Girl’s story, but the abandoned armor and hydraulic tool and the wrecked truck were once again, pretty compelling arguments.
The 4:10 was a little late that day, and the Track Troll had escaped, but everyone was safe. A welding crew welded the switch into the open position, the best MWCentral could do with their declining revenue, and Gravity Girl made the paper again!
