Friday, 22th April 2011 – Brockton Bay, Downtown
The cop in costume that went with the PRT troopers pulled ahead on his motorcycle.
Unlike the van of the troopers he was not hindered by traffic nearly as much.
He weaved through it with years of practice and parahuman skill.
Reading his thoughts I found they already suspected this was me. Which didn't explain the Ward in the van.
Director Piggot was already primed for the inevitable mess, as she called it, a new parahuman or two would cause. Since Keiko hadn't demonstrated a power when we visited Legend there was some doubt, though Legend was too polite to get confirmation from us that day.
One of the things she would get an answer for today, or so she'd believe. We had never said she gained powers that day and we never would say that.
The best lies were the ones others convinced themselves of.
More interesting was the trouble Armsmaster was in.
Skitter had talked.
The PRT knew that he had grabbed Lung from the street already defeated now, which they didn't much care about.
But him not telling them that Skitter had joined up with the Undersiders?
Director Piggot was furious about that.
He let the Wards run into her without any warning. So that was deserved.
She was furious enough to see him demoted for it, likely paired with a transfer. Though nothing was finalized yet.
Resentment boiled in him. The vast majority of it was reserved for Skitter, but a lesser amount was aimed at myself.
Prick. He made his bed, he can lie in it. No one forced him to claim credit that wasn't his.
Underneath the resentment I saw desperation as well though.
"Let's get ready to greet Armsmaster," I told BiriBiri, "he is closing in fast."
We didn't leave the alley. I positioned my temporary minions in front of us with their hands behind their heads.
The alley was too small for the vans, not that it gave Armsmaster any hesitation at all.
He simply took note of it, and went in anyway.
He came to a spot with elegant simplicity and swung himself of his bike with his halberd in hand.
He briefly glanced at my acrocycle and our costumes before he shoved the stream of ideas aside with long practice.
"Hello Armsmaster, I have presents for you," I forced a smile on my face for the hero in blue power armor. He reminded me of a color-swapped Iron Man.
"I am glad these ones arrive in the correct city," he frowned behind his well cared for beard.
Oh, they were pissed at me for the delivery of Bakuda to New York.
They took it as me deciding they couldn't do their job.
They got that much right. They did their job poorly.
I absolutely would have given them to New York if Trainwreck hadn't trashed the vans.
I decided to be more diplomatic instead.
"Your headquarters was literally on fire that day," I reminded him, but promised nothing.
"You haven't kept a single Nazi in prison the last decade," BiriBiri scoffed, "be glad you're getting any chance at all."
He gripped his halberd harder as his anger rose.
"We are all that stands between the gangs and a massacre," he bristled, "you are cheerfully playing with matches right next to a powder keg."
This was a man used to anger and used to dismissing that anger in others.
I could've accused him of setting off the powder keg himself when he arrested Lung without accounting for Bakuda.
It'd sting him, for truth did. But it might also cause him to double down and merely get angry himself.
"Your stalemate is killing us," I sighed instead. I made sure to keep any anger out of my voice. It left only my frustration and disappointment.
Where anger had bounced off him genuine frustration hit harder. Especially with his lie detector confirming the sincerity to him.
I heard the van's tires squealing as they came to a stop.
"But we are out of time," I told him to his confusion.
There were many things I could've chosen, but with the spies the Empire had in the PRT they'd learn what I told them.
This made the decision for me.
I pointed my remote at Krieg. "Tell him the names of your spies in the PRT."
"Arthur Sanders, technician. Zoe Baker, law clerk. Steven King, Strike team grunt. Crystal Johnson, PR. Brian Brown, nurse. Stephanie Daniels, Forensics," he recited dutifully.
I felt him flinch at every single name. Disbelief, quickly squashed. Followed by anger at the betrayal.
"I will take care of that," he promised through gritted teeth. Angry, but not at us. He paused, thinking. "Damn it, one of them is among the team in the van."
Just standing here, not talking might as well advertise we had something to hide. Like a room suddenly gone silent when a new person enters. They'd know something was going on.
We needed a-
"So, can your PR department decide that on their own," BiriBiri needled him, "or did you sign off on Armsmaster-brand girl's panties? I've always wanted to know."
Gallant missed a step on his approach.
As for Armsmaster. I've never seen a train of thought derail that hard before. As he sputtered he recalled merely skimming a form from PR instead of giving it the attention it deserved.
He never repeated that mistake.
"Those got recalled before they entered sale," he got out.
"Some still made it to fans," I couldn't help but feed the fire in amusement. The dockworkers got the contract to deliver those crates, some went missing instead of making their way to garbage disposal.
"I'm sure they'll feel well-protected," Gallant chuckled.
Another Tinker. He wore silver and gunmetal colored power armor styled after a medieval knight.
It was a lie.
A short read of his thoughts made that more than clear. He did not have the intruding ideas that Armsmaster kept pushing aside. He was no Tinker. His armor must've been made by one of his colleagues.
He saw emotions as color and could inflict them on others with the concussive blasts he could fire.
He was a Master.
More importantly he was a Thinker. They wanted his assessment of us.
He didn't have any trouble more than usual reading me or Keiko. Whatever mechanism his power used, it wasn't the same as mine.
It was also vastly inferior. He merely got emotions, no thoughts, no memories, no direct control either.
"Just get the prisoners loaded up, please," Armsmaster groaned.
We got them stuffed into the van in no time, this time tranquilized by Armsmaster and cuffed down.
Mr. King stood back next to the van, behaving just like any other trooper. But he kept his ears open.
Not that he was likely to get to do much, Armsmaster already had subtly contacted Dragon. He simply sent her the recording of me ordering Krieg around. The PRT was a paramilitary institution. Their employees didn't have all the usual rights to privacy.
He was optimistic Dragon would find something.
"I am glad to see them off the street," Gallant congratulated us, "that's a good thing for the city."
"Best of luck holding onto them," BiriBiri told him.
"Our work is easier in a team, so I'd like to invite you on a patrol with our Wards," Gallant offered. "Just an opportunity to get to know each other better." He turned towards BiriBiri. "Kid Win would love to talk with a fellow Tinker."
"I am not a Tinker," BiriBiri smiled. Then she let a few sparks fly between her fingers.
They stared at her, then turned towards me.
"I am multi-talented, it seems," I shrugged.
Armsmaster's thoughts were already racing with horror stories about cluster triggers. About capes suddenly becoming massively hostile to each other or partially bleeding their personality to each other.
I wasn't a cluster. No one triggered at the same time as I did. I'd know if they had.
It wasn't like I could tell them that, especially with Keiko pretending without a word to have gained her powers the same night.
Just great.
"We could do a patrol through the docks, I think," I turned towards Keiko in question.
"Sounds fine to me," she agreed.
"Sorry, Wards don't do patrols in the docks," Gallant grimaced.
"Why not?" I asked knowing exactly why.
"Wards are restricted to the Boardwalk and downtown," Armsmaster stated.
We let the silence stand for a moment, just in case he wanted to add anything.
"That isn't an explanation," BiriBiri pressed.
Armsmaster sighed. "The Wards program is expected to keep Wards safe, to an extent. There is some leeway, especially for older Wards which the Brockton Bay department does make use of. But we still try to keep them to the safer areas while we free up Protectorate capes to patrol the less safe areas instead."
"Huh. The docks unsafe? It's safe enough for children to live there," I stated facetiously.
That earned me a glare. "You know exactly what I meant," Armsmaster grumbled.
I hummed, unimpressed.
It was obvious to anyone who took the effort to look instead of accepting their PR statements as gospel where most of their effort went.
It wasn't the docks.
"I'll shake a Protectorate cape loose, so you can have your patrol in the docks," he gave in.
Huh. They wanted more information on me rather desperately.
"Is Sunday afternoon fine?" I asked. I had plans for Saturday.
A quick round of acknowledgments settled the date. I was simply to call their number to arrange the meet up.
"One last thing," Armsmaster stated. "Unless you want the press to give you a name, we need one for our announcement. You made too much of a splash today for it to be otherwise."
"I'll go with BiriBiri," she announced.
"Do you have any idea how hard heroic names for mind controllers are?" I sighed.
"Just go with Sparkles," BiriBiri joked half-seriously.
"Definitely not," I refused, "Mental Out. It'll have to do."
"Bold, to put your Master powers front and center," Armsmaster commented.
Gallant did his best to hide his awkwardness. It was just impossible with someone reading ones mind.
"People should be judged for what they do, not what they are," I imparted Mr. Kimura's wisdom.
We parted on that rather amiably.
We were gonna get an earful on the Sunday patrol.
I knew when and where the next ingredient transport for their drugs went from Medhall to their drug labs.
They wouldn't be happy about me throwing that connection into the open without warning them.
A/N:
If anyone has suggestions for a different cape name, I'll hear them.