It wasn't until they'd been driving in the van for half an hour that Chris got up the nerve to stop staring out the window and ask the women who they were.

"Haven't we been over this?" asked the one in leather.

"No. I mean - what are you names?"

The one in leather and the one with the clipboard shared a glance. The one in the bandana snorted, and kept driving.

"What?" asked Justin.

"It's for your own safety," Clipboard said.

"Our safety," said Lance.

"Plus, it amuses the hell out of us," said Leather.

"Um?" said Joey.

"Yes?" asked Bandana.

"I. I have a daughter, and." He stopped in confusion as they started laughing.

"Oh lord," said Clipboard. "Don't worry about that. You can see Brianna in a couple weeks. Month, tops."

Lance narrowed his eyes. "How did you know her name?"

"It's what we do," said Leather.

"Fuck!" said Bandana, and leaned on the horn. "Fucking seventy-year-old drivers! You had to live in fucking Florida, didn't you?"

Chris started staring at the scenery again. He wasn't positive, but he thought they were heading North.

"No, seriously," said Justin, "we have to call you something."

Bandana girl picked up a radio unit, and started whispering furiously into it. A few static-filled seconds later, and she nodded at Clipboard.

"Right. You can call me Amy," said Clipboard.

"I'm Karen," said Bandana.

There was a moment of silence, as Leather girl cleared wrestled with her demonic sense of fun. Then she sighed, and said, "I'm Calliope."

Chris nearly burst out laughing, but he managed to turn it into a cough when Calliope glared at him.

All of a sudden JC, who had been silent the entire trip, turned to the group and asked, "Can I wear tights and a cape?"

Seven voices chorused, "*No!*"

***

They arrived at their destination six hours later. Chris leapt out of the van and looked around. They were in some kind of concrete bunker area.

"Come on," said Karen, when they stood gawking. "This is only the garage."

As they left, Chris swore he could hear Calliope murmur, "Amateurs," but he wasn't sure.

The garage led to a maze of hallways. Chris tried to keep their path fixed in his head, but he'd slowly lost his sense of direction after being driven everywhere for five years. After a few minutes, he knew he was hopelessly lost. He also noticed Justin dropped to the back of the group, and casually started to fade out. Chris pinched him.

"Ow! What the fuck, Chris?" Justin whispered furiously.

"How will you find us if we get separated?" Chris said.

"I wouldn't worry, Kirkpatrick," said Karen. "We have infra-red goggles."

Justin glared and rubbed his arm, but Chris noticed he didn't try to disappear again.

"Don't worry," he whispered to Justin, "if they try anything, JC'll freeze 'em and sneak us out."

"I'm not worried," Justin shot back. "They only found out about the accident, tracked us, learned all about us, and convinced us to get in a car and be driven someplace we've never been before."

Chris rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Don't be embarrassed," said Calliope. "My superpower is sex appeal."

They stopped dead, staring at her. She let them stand for almost a full sixty seconds before saying, "In your dreams. You're just easily duped."

It shouldn't, Chris mused, have made him feel better to be called an idiot. He supposed it was some kind of commentary on the times, but he just didn't have it in him to throw up his arms and moan, "O tempora! O mores!" so he kept his mouth shut and followed them to the barracks.

***

After dinner, they were taken to their suite. There was a big common room, with books, a TV, VCR, Playstation, a couple of computers and many comfy chairs and couches. Five doors led out of the common area, presumably to five separate bedrooms.

"Bed-time for Bonsai," said Amy, making Chris smile. Then he noticed his band-mates looked confused, and felt old.

"Have a good night," said Karen, and started to shut the door. Just before she closed it completely, Calliope told them, "Wake-up is at 7:00. Be dressed and ready to go." Then the door closed with a bang.

"Well," said JC, and started towards a door.

"Hold on," said Lance.

"Man, I'm tired."

"Yeah, you're always tired, C. But we need a plan."

"Don't you think it's a little late?" asked Chris.

Lance sighed. "Of course it is. But we should plan anyway."

"I'm too tired to plan," said JC petulantly. "Besides, Justin's gone to bed."

They looked around. Justin had indeed disappeared, and when Chris peeked around the farthest door on the right, he heard snoring coming from the general vicinity of the bed. Lance threw his hands in the air, and stalked into the bedroom farthest on the left. JC took the room next to him and Joey slept in the middle, leaving Chris the bedroom next to Justin's.

As he lay in bed, trying to sleep, Chris thought back over the events of the day. He was happy that JC had a superpower, not just for JC's sake, but because it kept the five of them in it together. All for one, and one for all.

Chris fell asleep, and dreamt of Lance bending swords in half while he flew over the heads of soldiers. In a nearby tavern, Joey kept looking at serving-girls while JC froze people and stole their purses. Justin was nowhere to be found, but Chris knew, in the back of his mind, that he was there somewhere, invisible, watching over his brothers.

***

The wake-up call came far too early. Groaning, they were herded out of bed and shown to a locker room. Calliope tossed them five sets of sweatpants.

"Training room. 5 minutes. Don't make me come get you."

Chris dressed in some trepidation, and followed the others into a weight room.

"Right," said Karen. "Joey, Justin, Chris, JC, these are your weights. Start on your regular workout schedule. Lance, these are for you." She led Lance to a few machines in the far corner, where, Joey claimed, the smallest weight setting was 700lbs.

"Why do we have to work out?" asked Joey, who hated exercise even more than Chris did.

"Don't start with me, Fatone," said Calliope.

"It's a valid question," Lance said from his corner. Karen smacked him, and Lance continued bench-pressing.

"You have to keep in shape," said Amy, as she flipped through her clipboard. "If for no other reason, because you have to tour next year."

"So we get to keep singing?" said Justin's voice near a set of dumbbells that were lifting themselves.

Calliope started banging her head against the wall.

"You need a cover," said Amy.

"Cool!" said Joey. "We're Clark Kent!"

This time, Chris felt like banging his head. He sat on a rowing machine instead, and started working.

"What's your cover?" asked Justin.

"None of your business," said Karen. "And you can stop pouting at me. I'm immune to boyband cuteness."

"We're not a boyband," muttered Chris.

"You're not, anyway," said Justin. "You're almost 30."

When Calliope smacked him upside the head, Chris didn't feel the slightest bit of empathy.

***

After working out, they were herded back into the locker room, and told to shower and change. This time, they were given twenty minutes, as well as clean sweats. Then they were offered coffee and donuts, and herded into a small classroom. Somehow the desks felt a lot smaller than they had when Chris was in school.

"Right," said Amy. "Orientation time. Tomorrow you'll spend this time working on your skills, but we won't get to that until this afternoon."

"It's about time they let us know what's going on," Justin muttered. No one said anything when Joey smacked him.

"We are part of Division III of the United States Supernatural Forces. You, once you are trained, will be Task Force Seventeen," said Calliope.

Lance raised his hand.

"Yes?" Karen said.

"How many divisions are there?"

"Five," Amy said, "but we'll get to that later."

"What do they do?" asked Chris.

"What part of 'later' do you not understand?" asked Calliope.

"The part where you haul us out of our homes in the middle of the night, drive us to God knows where, and expect us to do everything you ask without explaining."

"We're going to explain," said Amy.

Calliope added, "later."

Chris sighed, and looked out the window.

Karen said, "Division III deals with what we like to call the Superheroes. People with extraordinary abilities, outside the normal scope of human behavior."

"People like us," said Joey.

"Yes."

"How many of us are there?" asked Lance, who was taking notes.

Calliope sighed. "Each Task Force has at least four people. Do the math."

Lance started scribbling furiously.

JC leaned over and whispered, "Sixteen times four is Sixty-four. Plus the five of us is Sixty-nine."

"See," said Justin, "I knew you were the Rainman."

"When do we learn about the arch-villains?" asked Joey.

Calliope walked out the door. Karen sighed, and followed, closing it softly behind her. Chris could hear them muttering furiously, but Amy had started talking, so he turned to her.

"There aren't arch-villains, Joey. Not like you mean - no evil humans bent on taking over the world."

"Then what's the point?"

"The point is to teach you how to use your powers wisely. Justin needs to learn how to focus a part of his brain all the time, so he doesn't randomly disappear on people. You need to learn how to turn your vision off and on, so that you don't walk into doors. JC needs to learn how to control freezing the world. Chris needs to be able to jump up and down like a normal person, without flying through the roof. Lance needs to be able to give some one a handshake without breaking bones. You understand?"

Lance raised his hand again.

"Yes?"

"I get that we need that kind of training. But what's the Task Force for?"

"Your unit is your family. The other people who know what you are, and how to take care of you. The people who come to your rescue, if something goes wrong. Joey, stop pouting."

"I could so take on Lex Luther."

"Lex Luther doesn't exist, Joey. Of course you could take him on."

Before Joey could say anything else, Karen and Calliope returned.

"You have to understand how serious this is," Karen said. If people find out we exist, it'll be the end of all of us. he government lets us be as long as there's no mass hysteria. But the minute the public finds out, we're dead."

"We could take them, too," Joey muttered.

"That," said Calliope, "is the whole idea."

"So we're Lex Luthor?" asked Justin.

"No," said Amy, "but we use this training period in case Uncle Sam decides to become him, one day down the road."

After that, Chris stopped staring out the window.

***

After lunch, they all split up. JC and Justin went off with Karen, Joey and Lance with Calliope, and he himself followed Amy to a padded room. He spent hours practicing take offs and landings. He learned how to pretend to fall, and how to let go of flying when he got close enough to the ground to fall without really hurting himself. He learned how not to leap into the air when frightened. He practiced breathing in thin atmosphere, so that if he ever had to fly during daylight he could use cloud cover not to be spotted. He learned how to jump normally, and hop, and flip. He was utterly exhausted. He decided that when he saw Wade again, he would bow down and kiss his feet for being so kind in rehearsals.

"I know it sucks," Amy said halfway through the afternoon, "but you have to learn."

Chris kept doing jumping jacks, but he couldn't help muttering, "I don't see you flying."

"That's because I can't," she replied.

Chris stopped in mid-air, shocked at her answer. "What?"

"Get down from there!" she snapped. "God! Haven't you learned anything this afternoon?"

Chris landed, but still demanded an answer. "If you don't fly, why are you training me?"

"Because I have similar skills," she said. "We matched each of you up with the closest trainer. Each of you needs to combine mental concentration with certain physical acts. Karen can change appearance, and learned how to change just a little bit of her at a time. Calliope can move things with her mind. Me, I melt through physical barriers."

Chris stared at her.

"Here," she said, "I'll show you." And she promptly walked through Chris.

After that, he shut up and continued practicing. He didn't want to do anything that would lead to a repeat demonstration.

***

The days in the compounds flew by quickly. Chris was mentally and physically exhausted, and he knew the others felt the same. They woke up in silence, dressed, worked out, ate, practiced... every day was the same. At night, they learned about the operations of the Supernatural Forces. It turned out that a lot of what Chris had thought fictional existed. Immortals, demons, aliens... if he weren't so tired, he would have freaked out. As it was, he woke up each morning with an invisible head pressed against his chest, and his arms around an invisible body.

Before they left the compound, they were given an emergency number.

"If there's ever a problem, find the nearest payphone and call us," Karen warned them.

"Don't forget," said Amy, "if you see this number on your beeper, you need to report in ASAP."

"Let anything slip," said Calliope, "and you're all dead meat."

Chris was happy to go.

When they returned to the outside world, he realized that he didn't want to leave them. They were his security blanket, keeping him safe, but more than that he wanted to keep them safe. He felt responsible. The band had been his idea, after all. In a small way, this whole thing was his fault. He couldn't help worrying. So he was still awake when someone pounded at his door at two in the morning.

He opened the door to discover Justin standing outside, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"I couldn't sleep."

Wordlessly, Chris stood aside and let Justin in. He led him back to his bedroom. When Justin hesitated, Chris pulled him into a tight hug.

"It's gonna be okay, Jup. Whatever happens, we got each other."

Justin nodded, but couldn't stop crying. Chris ran a gentle hand up and down his back, and muttered soothing noises. They lay on the bed together, Justin shaking silently against his chest. Finally Justin buried his face in Chris' neck, and fell asleep. When Chris woke in the morning, he still felt Justin's body curled in his arms, and he smiled. At least he knew that one would be safe.

While Chris and Justin were eating breakfast, JC, Lance, and Joey showed up on the doorstep.

"We just," said Lance. "Safety in numbers, you know?"

Chris nodded. "One for all, and all for one."

"The five Mouseketeers," said JC.

"Hey!" Joey said, "you and Juppy may be mice, but there's no way I am."

As his band-mates broke into their old argument, Chris smiled. Suddenly, life seemed livable again.
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