:
THE MAID OF STEEL

Those in Leesburg Elementary School's foyer entrance froze where they were. In the front doors were six teenagers, dressed all in black. Their leader, standing in front of the other five, had shouted moments ago that "the killings" would now begin.

The principal raced out of his office after hearing the threat (as well as seeing the six intruders on his security-cam monitor). He had time to shout out "What are you doing-" before Brandon Wells officially began the Psycho Men's reign of terror.

Dr. Phillip Southern had been in education for thirty-five years. Twenty of those years were spent at Leesburg Elementary School as its principal. He had seen it all in his years as an administrator in elementary education, but never anything like this. As Brandon Wells pulled the trigger of one of his shotguns, Phillip Southern had a brief second to think of his wife and their children in college, as well as experience a flash of concern over his young charges. Then the deadly spray of hot metal ripped into him, tearing his life violently away.

Before Southern's body could hit the floor, Brandon ejected the spent shells from his weapon and reloaded. As he saw teachers and students running in terror through the light fog of smoke, he shouted above the ringing in his ears "Kill them all! GO, GO!!"

Hearing their leader's command, the other five sprinted in different directions as they began firing their own weapons. Brandon took a moment to stand over the body of Phillip Southern, experiencing a strange nostalgia as he remembered the tall black man's discipline and teaching from his own time in this school. Crouching down, Brandon looked into the unseeing eyes of his first human victim.

Through the acrid smell of cordite and the coppery smell of human blood, Brandon searched Southern's face. Searching for something and finding nothing, the young man stood abruptly. He angrily kicked the dead man's head before raising his shotgun and searching out new prey.

Cutter Sharp had settled into his chair, lulled by the rhythmic intonations of the teacher's assistant as she read to the kids. He was suddenly jolted by a loud noise that seemed to come from the next building up from their wing. The children had heard it too, as had the assistant.

Giving a slight shake of his head, Cutter stood up. The assistant nodded imperceptibly, then began to read again. Her eyes cut nervously to the closed door as Cutter walked calmly toward it.

Before he reached the door, they all jumped as the sound of gunfire resounded from just up the hall. Someone was in the school and they had a gun! The children looked confused and many began to cry at the repetitive loud noise.

Cutter looked around the room. Seeing the ancient metal trashcan, he had an idea. He hefted the solid can and hurled it at the outside window. The glass shattered and Cutter ran to the window to clear the jagged edges out of the way.

Turning to the assistant, he shouted "Herd them over this way – I'll help them out the window so they can escape!" The assistant nodded and began moving children toward Cutter like a shepherd herding sheep.

Cutter was soothing the children as best he could, telling them to be brave and to run to the playground when they were outside. He prayed that they'd be safe there…

Linda Lee and Dick Malverne were sitting in Dick's shop finishing off the coffee Linda had brought. They had been laughing over the over-the-top guests on the "Jackson Springs Show", poking fun at the outrageous comments and appearances of what was surely a modern-age freak show.

"…did you see that lady? I thought her outfit was gonna fall off any second! What normal person would be caught dead wearing that?" Dick asked Linda as he wiped his eye.

She shook her head. "I don't know, but what does it say about us if we're getting our laughs watching it?"

They both stopped laughing for a moment and looked at each other. At the same time, they both said "On the next 'Jackson Springs Show'…" Surprised, they both fell into another laughing fit.

"W-We're terrible! >snort!<" Dick managed to get out.

Linda doubled up with laughter. "Oh no! Now you're snorting!"

Suddenly the local news station cut in on the broadcast. Wiping their eyes, they watched the screen as horrible reality intruded upon their light-hearted morning.

"This is Bob Parsley at WLSB-TV with a breaking news story…" The handsome man looked pale and shaken as he faced the camera and delivered the news. "…apparently six gunmen have entered Leesburg Elementary School. The Leesburg Police have arrived on the scene and are attempting to enter the school, but are currently being held at a distance by sniper fire…"

Horrified, Linda stood. "I-I've got to go, Dick. I-I…" She ran out of the shop before she could finish her sentence.

"Linda, wait! Where are you…?" His words died as he stepped out the door. Linda was nowhere to be seen. Scratching his head, he said to nobody in particular "She sure can get away quick when the notion takes her…"

Supergirl flew as fast as she could. Her heart was in her throat as she zoomed toward her destination. How could something like this happen? Especially in an elementary school? "Please, God, let them be all right…" she whispered as she flew.

Within seconds, she had arrived. She knocked hard and long on the door of the house, desperately seeking its occupant. She shouted at the top of her lungs "Andy! Andy, are you in there?!?"

The door swung open angrily and Andy Jones stood groggily in the doorway in her pajamas. "Okay, SG, what's the #%*& deal? Is this payback for that little 'incident' on the Jackson Springs Show? Well you'd better just…"

Supergirl brushed past her into the house. "I don't have time for this, Andy. You've got to change into Comet and help me!"

"What the-? Why? What's so important that you need Comet?" Andy folded her arms across her chest.

Turning on the television Supergirl pointed to footage of Leesburg Elementary. "This. Help me? Please?" Her eyes were pleading.

Her face ashen as the information on the screen sunk in, Andy nodded gravely. "J-Just give me two seconds to change…"

Jordan Blaine moved down the hallway, firing into each classroom he came upon. He was grinning madly as he used box after box of shells, spraying the rooms with hot metal. Sweat poured out of him, the heavy overcoat and black clothing warm as he exerted himself.

He didn't have many confirmed kills, but Brandon had been very specific about that part of their plan. He wanted the Psycho-Men to hit each room hard and fast, firing on the occupants; if they got many kills, so be it. If they got maiming, that was fine as well. The whole point was to leave Brandon's message of chaos and death in as large a way as possible.

Pausing between rooms for a moment, he heard the echoes of gunfire in the hall running parallel to his. He smiled, knowing his lifelong friend Doug was having just as much fun as he was. They had embraced briefly before entering this wing, promising to meet each other at the end of the building.

Bringing himself back to the here and now, Jordan finished reloading and kicked in the next door. He cursed as he saw a bald man in a tacky suit helping kids out the window. With a shout, he fired the first blast into the ceiling, causing the orderly row of children to panic and begin crying and moving away from the window.

Cutter saw what Jordan had done and silently cursed. He began frantically grabbing children and tossing them out the window, shouting for them to run to safety.

Jordan was more displeased, and leveled his shotgun at Cutter, who was too busy saving children to notice he was in mortal danger.

Wendy Purvis had been a teacher's assistant for eight years. She loved children, and her heart filled with joy every morning as she came to work. The minor behavioral problems that Second Graders posed were inconsequential to her – it was the moments when she made a connection with them that mattered. When they listened intently as she read a book, when they caught on to how to count money, when they learned to tie their own shoes – these were the moments that filled the memory book in her mind and heart.

She had never married, never finding someone who shared her enthusiasm over children and helping introduce them to concepts that would stay with them for life. She had finally decided that the right man would come if he would, and pushed it into the back of her mind. She focused herself on her job, and began work on an education degree at the nearby college.

She had always known somewhere inside that her job was to protect these children while they were here at Leesburg Elementary, but she had never really consciously thought about it. When she saw Jordan Blaine take aim not only at Cutter, but also one of the children he was desperately trying to move out to safety, her instincts took over.

She moved with speed she herself was surprised to find, knocking both Cutter and the child onto the floor. Just in time to receive the shotgun blast intended for them. Right before the deadly spray took her life, she had time to be satisfied: she had saved one of her charges.

Cutter had grabbed the boy scrambled for the teacher's desk while their assailant was reloading. As he shoved the boy underneath, he said a quick "thank you" for the school board's unwillingness to modernize – the desk had more metal than his car, and the "modesty panel" in front went all the way to the floor.

"The kid ought to be safe under here," he thought, "while I go get…" Cutter stopped mid-thought as he saw Wendy, dead and bleeding on the classroom floor. He was just about to storm angrily out to confront their attacker when a blast tore apart the child's desk next to their shelter.

"Gonna kill you, man! Gonna blow that bald head apart! You are so dead…!" Jordan chanted as he began firing over and over at the teacher's desk.

Cutter saw that the desk was beginning to wear under the assault. A hole here and there had opened up. He looked frantically around as Jordan came closer, still firing…

Susan Treadwell and Mutt Piro had gone down a corridor when the Psycho-Men split up. Mutt had followed at Brandon's request; their leader seemed to think Susan might have a problem going through with the plan.

Initially, Susan performed according to plan, spraying the rooms after Mutt had kicked in the door. After the third room, hearing the agonized cries of seriously wounded and dying children began to sicken her. She thought frantically, trying to figure out a way to keep from having to continue. As she was reloading, she had an idea.

Mutt kicked in the door and she leapt into the doorway, lifting her shotgun. Expecting the now-familiar roar of gunfire, Mutt was confused when he heard silence.

"What're you doin' Suze? Why ain'tcha shootin' em?" He asked as he cautiously stepped into the doorway with his own weapon raised.

She turned to him, struggling with her shotgun. "I think I accidentally loaded these wrong. The gun's jammed…" She looked from him to the frightened, rabbit-like children huddled around their teachers.

Mutt relaxed, his latest dose of "medication" in full effect now. "S'okay Suze. I'lll do the honors here…" He worked the pump action on his shotgun and was preparing to fire on the children when Susan's weapon swung up and knocked his blast into the ceiling.

"NO! This is wrong, Mutt – I won't do this anymore!" Before he could gather his wits, Susan kicked him hard in the chin, knocking him out cold. "I won't do it…" Susan said to her unconscious companion.

She turned to the class, who looked on with fear still etched in their eyes. "Go! Get out of here as fast and as safely as you can – I'm going to stop this horror…"

Rebecca Scotti was still in the foyer of the school. Her job was to lay down fire, preventing the police from storming the building. The Russian AK-47 in her hands burped hot death as she swept the parking lot, tearing large chunks of asphalt with each impact. She would hold the front line, even if the price was death – because it was what Brandon asked of her…


Supergirl and Comet landed behind the shelter of the barricades the Leesburg Police Department had brought in. A captain made his way over to the two heroes.

"God, I'm glad you two are here! What can you do to help us get in there?" the frantic officer asked, sweating in his helmet and body armor.

Supergirl's face was grim. "I'm going to run interference for Comet. While I'm taking fire, he'll fly over the school and try to enter from behind. Once I hear from him that he's in, I'll take out the sniper at the entrance." She glanced briefly over at her father, among the policemen gathered, then looked back at the captain. "I don't want any of your officers going in until I've determined it's safe. I don't want to add to the casualties…understood?"

The captain nodded. "Clear as crystal. Good luck…"

Supergirl nodded, looked at Comet and flew into the line of sniper fire…

Cutter was still looking for a way out as Jordan moved closer to the desk. Every time he looked around, he saw the body of Wendy Purvis and grew angrier. On his last sweep of his field of vision, he saw the oak desktop from the student desk that Jordan had destroyed. The wooden plank was inside his field of reach and he took it, hefting it to judge its weight. Satisfied, he leaned in and put his mouth next to the boy's ear.

"I want you to stay right here," he said just loud enough to make sure the boy heard. "When he stops to put more bullets in, I'm going to try and get him. Don't move until you hear me say that it's okay. When I do, I want you to run for the window and get out. Understand?" The boy nodded. "Good, I'm expecting a break any time now…"

Sure enough, the firing stopped as Jordan ejected his spent shells and quickly began reloading. Gripping the oak desktop tightly, Cutter threw a quick glance to Wendy Purvis again. The rage welled up inside him, and as he came up from below the desk, it rose from deep inside to a roar.

Jordan Blaine paused when he saw it. Cutter springing from his shelter, raising the desktop like a batter would a baseball bat. He caught himself and began fumbling with the shells, dropping them on the floor.

Cutter came around the desk, arms cocked as his rage roared out: "nnnnnnNNNNNNAAAARRRGGH!" Cutter swung with all the hurt and anger inside, and Jordan never had a chance. The oak plank caught him in the side of the head with a sickening hollow THUNK, and he crumpled onto the floor. Cutter, still in the throes of rage, began kicking the boy, crying and screaming out his emotion.

After couple of seconds, Cutter realized that he had hurt the boy. His chest heaving, he wiped the tears from his cheeks and checked Jordan's pupils. The boy's eyes were dilated, and blood was trickling from his ear. Cutter, shaken, remembered his young charge hiding under the desk.

Forcing himself to speak, he said shakily: "It's okay. Go! Get to safety!" The young boy scrambled from his hiding place and ran frantically for the window, clambering over and out. Cutter knelt beside Jordan, trying desperately to remember the CPR class he'd taken years ago while cursing himself for letting his rage take over…

Comet had made it safely behind the school. He found the children that Cutter had freed on the playground, huddling together. They cheered when he landed and rushed over to him. The children were sobbing with relief, crushing against him desperately.

Comet, overwhelmed with the sight, shushed the children. He looked to the school, torn between getting inside and getting the children to safety. Looking back at the frightened kids, he knew what his choice had to be.

Grabbing an armful of kids, he flew around the school and back behind the police barricade. As he dropped off the grateful children, he paused to use the small radio the police had given Supergirl and him before they started out.

"Supergirl? I've found some children who escaped to safety behind the school. I'm going to get them all safely to the police before I try to enter the school. Do you copy?"

In the school's parking lot, Supergirl was racing back and forth, catching the fire from the sniper's automatic weapon. She turned and waved and Comet heard her crackling reply in the affirmative before she turned back around to face the bullets again.

Nodding his head, Comet went back to get his next load of children.

Doug Johnstone had heard Cutter yelling and screaming while he was reloading. Concerned, he jogged toward the source of the noise.

As Doug stepped into the doorway, he was looking into the barrels of a shotgun. Cutter's bald head peered over the sight on the weapon and he said coldly "Drop your weapon or I'll hurt you too…"

Doug's eyes shifted to Jordan lying on the floor. His eyes widened in horror and he let the shotgun fall to the floor. He looked to Cutter, tears welling in his eyes. "Wh-what did you do to him? You son-of-a…"

Cutter swung his weapon to the side and fired a blast into the chalkboard. "What did I do? Look what you've done! I should kill you…" He leveled the weapon, aiming for Doug's chest.

Cutter looked at his prisoner, now crying hard as he looked at his friend with concern. Cutter lowered the gun. "Go to him. I've tried to help, but I think it's too bad for him to survive. I don't think he's going to live much longer…" Cutter hung his head as Doug knelt beside Jordan and cradled his head, sobbing loudly. "I'm sorry…" Cutter said as he began to cry again himself.

Brandon was uneasy. He hadn't heard any fire except Rebecca's for the last few minutes. She was tiring, trying to get shots past Supergirl. He frowned, wondering what was going on in the other parts of the school.

Laying a hand on Rebecca's shoulder, he leaned in and spoke in her ear. "I'm going to check on the others. Keep it up – you're a perfect sniper!" Rebecca paused for a second to flash a delighted smile to Brandon before resuming her efforts.

Brandon smiled to himself. She was like a dog, loyal to the end…

As he made his way down the hall Susan and Mutt had gone down, he looked into the classrooms. There were dead and dying in the first five, but after that, they were all empty.

His anger rose when he saw Mutt unconscious and tied to a cabinet. Unable to untie Mutt's bonds, Brandon began to curse loudly. Frustrated, he remembered their plan and calmed himself. He took aim and shot Mutt, killing him instantly. None of his loyal Psycho-Men would be taken to prison…

He headed toward the end of the wing and saw children filing out quickly into the schoolyard, with Susan ushering them out. Enraged, he fired on the group. Several teachers and children were initially hit, but the rest scrambled either up the hall or out the door to safety.

Cursing, he kept firing until his weapon jammed. He threw it down in disgust, and when he looked up, Susan was pointing her weapon at him. "It's over, Brandon. I'm sorry, but it's over. I can't do this…"

His lip curling in a snarl, he spat at her. "I thought you'd be the weak link. You know I never loved you, don't you? I used you – you were a warm body to come and kill for me. How does that make you feel?" He smiled cruelly.

Susan whipped the barrel of her weapon, striking Brandon in the face. He fell to the floor, wiping blood from the cut in his cheek. "Perhaps you did learn something from me, Susan. I never expected that…" He spat at her again.

"Don't make me…" Susan's words were cut off as a shot rang out. She fell to the floor, an angry wound in her back.

Brandon looked up to see Rebecca rushing up to him. "Are you all right, Brandon? Did she hurt you?" She knelt, tending to the cut on his cheek.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you for saving me, Rebecca." He smiled at her. "Why did you come after me?"

She looked angrily at the prone form of Susan. "I knew that witch would betray you. I'd never let anything happen to you…" She paused. "…I-I love you…"

Brandon smiled again. "I know, Rebecca. I've known all along. Thank you for stopping her from ruining our plans." He stroked her cheek, causing her to shudder. "But what about Supergirl? Won't she come inside now?" He looked into Rebecca's eyes.

She looked adoringly at Brandon. "I thought of that. I left the AK on a stand, set on automatic. Before I came after you, I also rigged the front door to blow when she comes through…" There was a loud BOOOM from the school entrance, making Rebecca smile. "I know it won't kill her, but it will slow her down."

"Very good thinking Rebecca. You've really flowered in the heat of combat, haven't you? Yes, I think you're positively radiant!" He smiled warmly at her, about to suggest they hunt down the children that had retreated up the hall, when they were pushed against the wall.

Supergirl, her costume torn in several places, stood menacingly over the two teenagers. "You're both going to prison for a long time. How dare you do this-this…horror you've committed?"

Rebecca leapt to her feet and fired her 9-mm pistol at Supergirl. The Maid of Steel caught the bullets, dropping them in a steaming pile at her feet. "I don't suggest you try that again, young lady…"

Brandon shook his head. "She's right, you stupid cow. You'll never hurt her with a gun. You're just a lovesick fool!"

Rebecca recoiled as if slapped. "B-but you – we – I don't understand. I love you, Brandon…" Tears formed in her eyes.

"Yes you 'love' me, Rebecca. And I knew it all along and used that for my own purposes. And now that I've gotten what I want…" As if from nowhere, a gun was in his hand and he shot her, point-blank in the chest. Disbelief washed over her face as she slumped to the ground, dying with tears spilling down her cheeks.

Horrified, Supergirl shoved him, hard, into the wall. She checked Rebecca for signs of life, but the girl was already dead. Turning to Brandon, Supergirl was ready to tear him apart. She stopped in her tracks.

Brandon was holding his gun to his head. "Don't want me to do it, do you? I know you super-types, you all want to 'bring em back alive', don't you? Well, it's not going to happen, Supergirl. I'm not going to have a trial or anything. I'm not leaving this school."

Supergirl had frozen in place. "Why? What's the point of it all? Why?"

Brandon smiled cruelly. "Because I understand. There's no point – life, love, emotions, death – it's all just a load of crap, and I wanted to prove it. I've just attained immortality, Supergirl. From now on, Brandon Wells will be known for making history at Leesburg Elementary." A single tear slid down his cheek. "Ignore this, Mom and Dad…" He pulled the trigger.

"NOOOOO!!!" Supergirl grabbed him, but he was already dead. She knelt beside him, looking on in disbelief. "Why, Brandon? Why?"

"Because he could, I suppose." A voice behind her made her jump. Looking back, she was shocked to see Wally Johnson – the boy who claimed to be God – looking mournfully at Brandon's lifeless body.

"Wally!? What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Well, Linda, I am supposed to be everywhere, right?" He shook his head, still looking at Brandon.

She grabbed him, holding him at eye level and shaking him. "You mean you were here and didn't stop this? Why? Damn you, tell me WHY!"

Wally reached up and slapped her hard on the cheek. She dropped him and staggered backwards with the force of the blow.

His face was red and he pointed his finger at her. "Don't, Linda. You'll only regret anything you say in anger…"

She spit at him. "NO! I want answers! Why does 'God' stand by and let these maniacs murder innocent children? CHILDREN!" Her chest heaved as she caught her breath.

Wally hung his head. "Don't you understand? I gave you, humanity, a great gift. I gave you the freedom to make choices." He paced back and forth as he spoke. "I set up the rules so that you could be free, and freedom always comes with a price. Sure, I could just step in every time somebody's going to be hurt or an injustice is performed. But where's the freedom in that? If I kept humanity from choosing evil over good, your lives would be nothing more than a game of 'celestial chess'. I could step in, but I won't. I'm sorry…" He stopped and hung his head once more.

Supergirl shook her head. "That's not good enough for me! I don't accept that God would let innocent children die! Your 'freedom' sounds like a load of crap to me – you sit around and 'allow' us the freedom to live and die, without ever getting your hands dirty. You make me sick…"

Wally grabbed her arm, gripping her hard enough to make her cry out and fall to her knees. Spinning her around, he looked into her eyes, tears welling up in his own. "You don't get it, do you? I was there. I was there when each and every one of the dead here died. I was there when Principal Southern was cut down as he left his office. I was there when Wendy Purvis sacrificed herself to save Cutter and a little boy. I was there when Brandon killed Mutt and Rebecca. I was there when Jordan Blaine died from head trauma..." His body shook as he sobbed. "…and I was there when Brandon killed himself. And I'll be there when his parents get the news and wail and mourn; when all the parents and loved ones of the dead mourn. Don't you see!? I'm there, I have to experience every single death! That's the price for being God… So don't think I get off scot-free." He continued sobbing as he walked away.

Supergirl hung her head, giving herself a moment to mourn for the dead. Then she called in the police, letting them know it was safe to enter the building. There was going to be a lot to do after this…and lots of questions left unanswered. She shook her head.

"Is freedom really worth the price?" The question echoed off the hall walls. There was no reply.

END

NEXT ISSUE: Mongul attacks Earth and Supergirl's in the thick of things!

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Hello again. Lots to discuss here this issue, so I'll dive right in…

It's now almost two months since the killings at Columbine High School. In that time, several other kids have either successfully copied their peers in Littleton Colorado or they have plotted/attempted such an act. The mind boggles.

As well as these "copycat" acts there has been the usual call for gun control bills, and there's been some debate over prayer/religion and school. For several weeks running, Time magazine featured cover stories on Columbine. One such carried the title "How to Spot a Troubled Kid"…

Now, I don't have any real answers as to why these things happen. I know a couple of things I don't think make them happen:

Music. Even though I mentioned a heavy metal band (Black Sabbath) last issue, I'm positive that they aren't the cause. Do disturbed people read murderous urges into song lyrics? Yes, I'm sure of that. We all hear music differently, colored by our own life experiences, beliefs, etc. It's not a huge reach to think that someone who has problems can "hear" a song telling them to kill, rape, whatever. Just don't tell me the music causes those responses, because I think that's crap.

Social cliques. I know that there are classes and groups of folks in high schools. I know that I never fit into any of them when I was in high school but I didn't go get a gun. There will always be smaller groups within larger groups, especially wherever teenagers are concerned. No, unless those cliques are street gangs, who form specifically for whatever crimes thugs think they need help with, they are just groups who think they're different from someone else. Not the cause of violence, in my opinion.

Can we ever really "solve" this problem? Maybe yes, maybe no. What matters isn't "solving" the problem, it's how we deal with it. Now, I'm a religious person. I'm active in a church, I have a deep faith in God. That being said, I have no clue why innocents have to suffer or bad things happen to good people, as a rabbi once said in a book title. I really don't know why God doesn't step in and solve/prevent them from happening, but my "explanation" by Wally gives me a tiny degree more of personal comfort. If you happen to disagree, well, that's your business. I can only write what makes sense to me, and let you work it out for yourself on your own.

Okay, enough heavy discussion; time for a bit of business. This issue of Supergirl will be the last one I collaborate on. Due to some time constraints I have, as well as some problems with writer's block, I'm cutting back on some of my fanfic commitments. Something had to go, and since this is what I'm most marginally involved with, well…you get the picture.

Thanks for reading. Hope you've not been too disappointed with what I had rattling around in my head. If you don't mind, let me know what you thought of this story. I'm interested to know your opinions. My address is barchettaboy@yahoo.com.

Kell Carpenter
6/18/99