Companion Chronicles [Jumpchain/Multicross SI] [Currently visiting: INTERMISSION]

Chapter 17: Reaction
Chapter 17: Reaction

Taylor and I took a long, looping route back to the loft, partially out of paranoia and partially because we just wanted to roam, so by the time we arrived the party was in full swing. Even Brian and Rachel had made it back before us, which was impressive, since they'd had to ride all the way up to the docks to stash the stolen goods before making their way back. On the other hand, they'd had the dogs.

Several boxes of pizza were spread out on the tables behind the home theatre couches, along with stacks of napkins and paper plates. Alec and Brian were sitting on one of the couches, talking animatedly about the fight. Lisa seemed to be nursing a headache on the other couch, a laptop open but forgotten on the table in front of her. Rachel wasn't around. "We're home!" I called as we stepped into the loft. "What's the score?"

"Sixty eight grand, plus whatever we get for the information," Lisa said. Times three, divided by six—the math worked out to be really easy.

"So we're making about thirty four grand each?" I asked, walking over to stand behind Lisa's couch. That was more than half as much as a straight cash purchase.

"Minimum." She grimaced. "Assuming the boss pays up." Aw, what's wrong, Coil? Things not going to plan?

"Wait, 'assuming'?" Taylor asked. "Why are we working for him if we can't trust him to pay?"

"He'll pay. Sorry, I got off the phone with him less than an hour ago and he wasn't happy."

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "Did we steal too much? If we went over his budget—"

"No, that's not the problem. He's happy with our work. He just has other problems going on." Lisa glanced up at me when she said this, and I nodded. Her eyes widened slightly. I wasn't sure exactly what I had just communicated, but I don't think it had been anything that wasn't in some way true. "You guys should help yourselves to the food. Soda's in the kitchen."

"Thanks," I said, leaving Taylor to the food as I stepped into the bathroom and shut the door. I tried to open the door to the Warehouse. It didn't work. I closed the door again, actually used the bathroom, and then tried one more time, but it still didn't work. I'd been planning to ask Jenn if she'd brewed any anti-thinker-headache potions, but it seemed there would be no miracle headache cures today.

I tried to ignore the resentment I felt over being rejected by the cosmic judge of property. For all that Lisa had told us this was our space, the Warehouse didn't agree. Maybe not having a room was the problem… or maybe it wasn't really any of ours. I couldn't help but look over my shoulder as I exited the bathroom, wondering if Coil had cameras set up inside. He seemed the type. Maybe it was a good thing I hadn't been able to open a door.

I headed back to the fridge, saw that there was no root beer, and poured myself a glass of water from the tap instead. On the way back, I pulled a massive wedge of pizza slices onto a paper plate, then joined Lisa and Taylor on the couch perpendicular to the television. "…right into a parked car!" Alec said. "I long for the skill to pull something like that off on purpose."

"Hey boys, ladies. What did I miss?" I shoved a piece of pizza into my mouth. Mmm, salt and grease.

"Alec was just describing Gallant's… misfortune," Taylor said. My mouth was full of pizza, so I had to ask for details by raising my eyebrows as high as they'd go.

"Okay, so, there's a bunch of setup for this." Alec said eagerly. "I got Kid Win to drop one of his pistols early on, since he was holding one in each hand. I grabbed it and tried to figure out how to use it, but before I could Browbeat crushed it. Nearly got my fingers too. I didn't have my taser out, since I was messing with the pistol, so I faked running into Grue's cloud, then doubled back while he got himself turned around.

"Then I had to deal with Gallant, who kept smacking me with these stupid orbs that felt like someone hitting you with blasts of air from a leaf-blower. I made him stumble, and he almost caught himself… but he stepped on the smashed gun! Slipped on it like a banana peel and went ass-over-teakettle right into a parked car. Got his helmet stuck in the grill! I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe." I had to cover my mouth to make sure I didn't spit any food out; maybe it was the euphoria of our first job, but I could barely stop laughing long enough to chew my food.

"That sounds like something you would do," Taylor told me.

I shook my head, finally managing to swallow the mass of pizza I'd bitten off. "I'd have used an actual banana peel."

"Oh, that reminds me." Brian said. "Lisa, show Kasey that pic you showed us." Lisa groaned and pulled the laptop towards us. She poked at the touchpad to wake the computer up and revealed the webpage for one of Brockton Bay's local newspapers. "WARDS ROUTED", read the headline, over a picture of Kid Win as I'd last seen him: standing upright with a lamppost wrapped around him like a rubber hose, looking thoroughly dejected. Brian grinned at me from the boy's couch. "That was your doing, right?"

I snickered. "Yeah. I wanted something humiliating but mostly harmless. What do you think?"

"It was probably damn uncomfortable," Lisa said, "but you didn't wrap the pole tight enough to hurt him. As for the humiliation, I think the headline speaks for itself." She had her eyes closed, face pinched in pain.

"All's good, then." I smiled at the picture, trying to ignore the niggling feeling of shame for doing that to the kid. "How did they get him out?"

"I don't know and I don't care enough to figure it out."

"Are you all right, Lisa?" Taylor asked.

She shot another veiled look at me before answering. "Yeah, just tired. Used my power too much in the bank and now I'm paying the price."

"What do you mean?"

"Kasey can explain," Lisa said. I rolled my eyes.

"Right, since I'm Miss Exposition around here…" I took another bite of pizza, small enough that I could chew it in a reasonable amount of time. "Thinkers often suffer headaches when they use their powers too much," I told Taylor. "They're often called 'Thinker headaches'—imaginative, right? Depending on the degree of overuse, it can be anything from a dull pain to a full-blown cluster headache."

"What's a cluster headache?"

"The Alexandria of migraines." Lisa barked out a short laugh, then shot me a withering glare before closing her eyes again. I don't know what she was upset about; I wasn't making fun of her.

"And that only happens to Thinkers?" Taylor asked.

"It's associated with Thinkers to the point that if non-Thinkers start getting them, they're given a Thinker rating for it," I said. Taylor narrowed her eyes at me, probably trying to decide how much I was bullshitting. "And since I suspect your next question is going to be 'Why?': no one knows. Maybe it's like overworking a muscle. Maybe the brain is working hard interpreting data from a super-normal source, and too much takes a toll. Maybe it's a balance decision." I don't think it was ever confirmed to be the last one, but given Shards, I wouldn't be surprised.

"A what?"

"A game thing," Alec said. "Like how…" he stopped, probably to think of a game that Taylor would have played. "Like how in Monopoly, the more expensive properties also earn more money, to make them worth buying."

"How does that make any sense?" she asked.

"Well, if they paid the same as the cheaper squares—" Taylor threw her scrunched-up napkin at him.

"She's bullshitting you," Brian said.

"I was up-front with the whole 'no one knows' thing!" I protested. "My guesses are as good as anyone's!"

"I think she actually believes that," Taylor told Brian. His face split into a wide grin at her joke, which had Taylor looking downright bashful.

I took advantage of the lull in the conversation to look over the group as I worked my way through my pizza. "Alec, are you okay? You took a bad hit at the end there."

"She just winded me," he said.

"You were flying through the air," I pointed out dubiously

"Because she used the opportunity to pick me up like a sack of potatoes and throw me across the room," he groused. "I could have been really hurt if you hadn't caught me."

"You're welcome."

"Aw, Kasey rescued a damsel," Brian said, which earned him a punch from the damsel in question. I grinned, warmth spreading through my chest at the good-natured roughhousing.

"Were any hostages hurt?" Taylor asked.

Lisa was still playing dead on the end of the couch, so I pulled the laptop over and scanned through the article. "Three people were treated for minor bruising and released," I read out, then winced; there was a good chance those had been people I'd been knocked into during the fight in the street. "Those might be my fault. Well, Glory Girl's, but I'm sure they won't admit that. Let's see what the cesspool has to say." I scrolled down to the comments and read out, "Clark says, 'Remind me why we have heroes at all?' Memsie says in response, 'The villains had two new heavy hitters no one had seen before, give them a break.' Polly responds, 'The heroes work hard to keep us safe, Clark!' 'butts' responds, 'I feel safer around the villains.'"

"PHO is probably better," Brian said.

"Lisa, do you mind?"

"Whatever," she mumbled, so I clicked on the PHO bookmark on the top bar. Lisa didn't leave herself logged in, which was probably smart, all things considered. Personally, I still needed a verified cape account.

After about ten minutes of browsing, I sighed and closed the window. "This is less fun than I was expecting."

"Reading about yourself?" Taylor asked.

"Yeah. I mean… I don't know. I like the fact that people are shitting on Glory Girl for that stupid column thing, but…" I trailed off. I didn't know what I'd hoped for. Fans? Praise? I'd gotten some of each. I also had creeps. That was a thing.

I scowled at the last page of my thread, scoured by the cleansing fire of moderation. It's not like the internet being a bunch of pervs was a shock or anything, but it was still gross.

I got some hate, too. That hurt more than I'd expected. I really should've been prepared for that—I'm a villain, people are supposed to root against me—but it was what it was.

"Kasey?" Brian asked.

I glanced up from the computer. "Yeah?"

"How did you pull off that trick at the end?"

"Huh?"

"You lined Glory Girl up for a perfect hole-in-one through a wall!" He grinned as he pantomimed a punch.

I smiled, pushing the strange niggling feeling away. "It was mostly luck. I mean, I had a rough mental image of where the vault door was, but I couldn't believe I actually hit it! Throwing Glory Girl through the wall was the easy part! She's so predictable…"

———X==X==X———​

I'd gotten a text from Diane which simply read "Left something for you at your base," so I swung by my lair after leaving the loft for the day. The package contained a homemade DVD with 'Interlude' written on it in sharpie. I popped it into the DVD player and hit play.

The video started with the Wards filing out of a PRT transport towards the large gray monolith of the PRT building. Aegis led the way, followed by the rest of his team in a disorganized clump behind him. They were a sorry sight. Gallant was wearing a PRT trooper helmet instead of his normal shining silver one. Clockblocker was disheveled, sporting a large number of rips in his dirt-stained while costume. Vista and Browbeat had escaped visible injury, but they were visibly beaten down, and Vista was clearly favoring her right shoulder. I noticed Kid Win wasn't there; he might have still been tied up. Shadow Stalker was also absent.

A heavy-set woman in a navy blue suit with an extremely unflattering blonde bob cut was waiting for them inside. Aegis saluted, his arms acting distinctly rubbery. "Director," he greeted her.

"Aegis," Director Piggot said."What happened to your arms?"

"Flux wrapped me in a car," he said. "I think I broke them about a hundred times pulling myself out."

"I see." They didn't say anything more until they'd left the lobby and entered a large meeting room. Piggot walked stiffly to one side of the room, while the Wards formed a group facing her. Aegis was in the front, as the leader, with Clockblocker, Gallant, Browbeat, and Vista behind him. The director took a moment to give the entire group a long, baleful look.

"This was a disaster," she said.

"We lost," Gallant admitted.

"Sometimes heroes lose," Piggot responded. "What makes this a disaster is how you lost. You lost to a group of villains who were treating you with kid gloves—"

"Kid gloves?" Clockblocker interrupted.

"Kid gloves," she repeated. "Hellhound didn't deploy any of her dogs. Flux went out of her way to avoid injuring anyone even though she can punch Glory Girl through solid rock. And despite living in a city full of black widows and brown recluse spiders, none of you were bitten by anything nastier than a yellow jacket. Kid. Gloves.

"As I was saying: the bank is wrecked. It's going to cost more money to repair the damage from the fight than the villains managed to steal! People nearly died—would have died, if not for the villains showing more care for human life than the so-called heroes!" She paused, letting her words sink in to the assembled heroes. "Gallant. You invited Glory Girl along—"

"No, ma'am," Gallant interrupted her. His voice echoed oddly in the poorly-fitting PRT helmet.

"No?"

"Glory Girl received a message from her sister, who was in the bank. She arrived separately and refused to leave; I told her that she would be allowed to participate only if she followed the instructions of the Wards leader." He nodded towards Aegis. "She agreed at the time, only to engage on her own once the fight started."

"You shouldn't have permitted her to participate at all!"

Aegis cleared his throat. "Respectfully, ma'am: how would we have stopped her?"

"You didn't need to stop her," Piggot said. "You just needed to forbid her. Then, when she ignored the orders of law enforcement—as we all know she would have—we could throw her under the bus without dragging you all down with her. Instead, you're all going to be painted with the same brush. I assume you heard about Mister Douglas?"

The Wards exchanged glances; as the leader, it fell to Aegis to respond. "We haven't been allowed to access the internet since the operation."

"And you obeyed that?" Piggot asked with a raised eyebrow. They nodded. "Will wonders never cease, you can follow instructions. Cory Douglas is a freshman at the University who was almost crushed by the column Glory Girl knocked over, only to be saved by a villain. Obviously, it's the thing the public cares most about." She gave the entire room another glare. "That is exactly the sort of thing that turns a loss into a disaster. Not only did you lose, you looked bad doing it, and your performance reflects poorly on the entire PRT and Protectorate organizations."

"Director—again, respectfully—we were in a very difficult situation," Aegis said. "We were in a hostage situation against a team we had very little information on, who turned out to have two unknown heavies we had no information on at all—"

"Then you haven't been reading the reports we've been handing you," Piggot said harshly. "When Armsmaster brought Lung in, he was suffering from an abnormal number of insect bites, and had carved up the street in a manner that suggested a Brute-on-Brute fight. We knew these people were in the city."

"But we had no way to know they were in the bank," Aegis protested. Clockblocker and Browbeat nodded eagerly behind him.

"You weren't ready to be surprised," Piggot said. "That isn't an excuse." The Wards exchanged glances, but no one argued. "Let's move on to your individual performances." She looked at Vista, who cringed. "Aegis, why was Vista alone, with no support on standby?"

"Vista suggested that she could tie the entire area around the bank into a loop to prevent them from escaping. It was our best counter to Grue's darkness; otherwise, they might have run past us and lost us in the city."

He glanced at Vista, who picked up the explanation. "Affecting an area that large is hard, especially when it's on both sides of a building I wasn't going to modify—I didn't want to let them know I had the area wrapped up. I needed to circle around the whole bank to make sure I had everything right."

"And you were alone because?" Piggot demanded.

"I wasn't supposed to be alone! Shadow Stalker should have been watching my back!" Vista whined. "But she charged into the bank instead, so I didn't have any help when that bitch jumped me! Yell at her, not me!"

"Shadow Stalker has more than paid for her mistake, I assure you. However, it was Aegis' failure that got you hurt, because he assigned someone he knew was unreliable to protect you." Piggot focused her glare back on Aegis. "If you ever want to lead a real team, you need to learn who you can trust to stay on task, and who you can only ever use as a wildcard. If you'd had Browbeat looking after her, or done it yourself, she likely wouldn't have been injured."

"I wanted to be sure we had the brutes on standby for the dogs—" Aegis began

"Which they did not even need to use," Piggot reminded him. "Speaking of Browbeat," she said, turning her eyes to the team's other Brute, "what, exactly, did you accomplish today?"

Browbeat swallowed. "I, um, I was able to disarm Regent when he stole one of Kid Win's pistols?" Gallant shifted slightly beside him. "Then I attempted to pursue him into the cloud, and got… turned around."

"'Turned around' indeed. You contributed nothing to the fight, and may have been responsible for stepping on one of the hostages." Piggot left it at that. "Gallant. Your helmet footage is embarrassing." He didn't argue, so she moved on. "Clockblocker. What happened?"

"She put ants in my nose!"

"You are forbidden from mentioning that to the press." She gave the entire group one last glare, then stated, "Dismissed," and left the room.

The video cut directly to the Wards already filing into the common room downstairs. Kid Win was already there, out of his armor and wearing only a temporary mask. "—the best start to your new career, huh?" Clockblocker asked Browbeat as the group made their way over to a bunch of folding chairs leaning against one wall. The two took off their masks as they walked, and I instinctively looked away before remembering that I already knew the Wards' identities.

"I wouldn't mind so much if I knew what happened," he said. "I went after the first person I saw, and then suddenly I couldn't find my way back, even though I shouldn't have been more than a few feet from the edge. It was like I'd fallen into an abyss."

"That might have been my fault," Vista said, doffing her visor. "I, uh, I was still trying to hold the loop together, even with my shoulder all fucked up, but I know I screwed it up. Sorry."

"No hard feelings," Browbeat assured her. "Would've been tased either way." He chuckled ruefully. "Should have paid more attention to the briefing. I would have stayed clear if I'd known he had a stun-gun."

"I don't think that was in the briefing, actually," Aegis said. "We went in without enough people or information, and we paid the price." He tried to pick a chair, knocked it over instead, and grumbled, "Damn it, I should have just waited for them to get me free rather than forcing it." Browbeat stepped past him and started moving the chairs into a semicircle facing the wall without being asked.

"You probably wouldn't be saying that if you had Image using you as a whipping boy," Kid Win said. He slouched into one of the chairs and pulled off his own mask. "I don't get it. I knew something was weird when they had me post that pic of myself being loaded onto a truck like an i-beam. Usually it's all, 'You must be professional,' and 'You can't let people catch you goofing off,' but now that I got humiliated in public they want to turn me into a meme. I had to give one of the PR people permission to manage my PHO account for the next few days before they'd let me head down here, and I regret looking at what they've been doing with it."

"Okay, now I have to see it," Clockblocker said, but he was interrupted by Gallant returning with a pair of whiteboards. He was also unmasked, though he was still wearing his armor.

"Ready, Aegis?" Gallant asked.

Aegis shook his head. "Arm's are all messed up. I can't write. Clock?"

"Don't suppose you want to do it?" Clockblocker asked Gallant. Gallant shrugged and grabbed a whiteboard marker.

"You still want to lead, Aegis?"

"Probably easier if you do it, since you can go at your own speed," Aegis said, sitting down in the center-most chair and struggling to take off his own mask; his dexterity was really hampered by not having bones in his arms. Clockblocker sat down next to him, with Vista on his other side; Kid Win was already seated on one end of the line, and Browbeat took the other.

"Take it away, team leader," the team leader said with exaggerated seriousness.

Gallant grinned at Aegis. "Right, then. As your leader, I want to stay by saying that no matter what Piggot may say, I'm proud of you guys. We were handed an incredibly difficult situation, and we still managed a win." He waited a moment as the Wards processed that. "Yes, a win. These 'Undersiders' have flown under the radar for a while, always slipping away before we can respond. This time, we got in their way, and that means we finally have some information on the group." He wrote Grue, Tattletale and Regent on one board, then drew lines between the names to form columns. He wrote Hellhound on the other, then stopped. "Do we know the other two?"

"Skitter and Flux," Kid Win said. "Eyewitnesses overheard some of their discussion before the fight kicked off."

"The girl who wrapped you up named herself 'Flex'?" Clockblocker asked. "How unimaginative can you get?"

"Flux, with a 'u'," Kid Win said.

"That's what I said—"

"Ahem!" Gallant said. He tapped the whiteboard, where he'd written Flux next to Skitter and Hellhound. "So. This is the part where we try to learn everything we can, to make sure we can win next time. What do we know?"

"Grue's power isn't just darkness," Browbeat said. "It messes with your hearing, pushes against you like you're underwater. If you're not prepared for it, it can really confuse you."

"Good." Gallant listed 'blind' 'deaf' 'resistance' 'confusion' in Grue's column. "What else?"

"He can manipulate it remotely, or at least get rid of it that way," Aegis said. "He cleared a landing spot for Flux when she grabbed me."

"That implies that Flux can't see through it either," Kid Win added.

"Excellent points," Gallant said, and 'remote clear' 'affects allies' joined Grue's column. "Anything on the others?"

"According to the hostages, Skitter claimed she could sense things through her bugs, at least enough to know if they started trying to move," Vista said.

"She also has some really fine control over them," Browbeat added. "Apparently she was showing off with some weird bug streams while they were emptying the vault, making sure everyone knew just how much control she had."

"The swarm interferes with my power, since it's alive," Vista said. "One of the reasons I couldn't get away when the purple bitch jumped me."

"Right, good. What else?" Under Skitter, Gallant wrote 'senses' 'fine control' 'vista manton limit'. When no one responded, he added, "It can be about any of them, we're not doing this in order."

"Regent's muscle spasms hurt," Kid Win said. Regent's column gained the words 'muscle spasms' 'painful'.

Gallant paused, then added a question mark after the word 'painful'. "They didn't hurt me," he said. "Well, not directly."

"Me either," Browbeat said.

"You're a brute, though," Kid Win responded.

"I'm not immune to pain."

"Let's stay on track," Gallant reminded them. "I think his muscle spasms got stronger when he used them on me multiple times." When no one commented, he wrote 'stronger with use'. "Anything on Tattletale? Vista?"

"She had a foot and forty pounds on me and I still wasn't that badly outmatched," Vista replied. "Whatever her power is, it isn't hand-to-hand." Tattletale's column gained the words 'normal strength'.

"It's a long shot," Browbeat said, "but I bet there are normals crazy enough to go caping if they can find a team that would have them."

"The long shot is finding a team that would take a normal as a fake cape," Gallant replied. "We didn't see much of Hellhound either. Kid, can you grab the eyewitness reports?"

"Sure," Kid Win said. He stood up and walked off camera, returning quickly with a laptop. "What do you want me to look for?"

"Start with Tattletale, since we know the least about her." Kid Win nodded and started clicking through the reports. "Now, what about Flux?"

"She's strong," Vista said. Gallant wrote 'brute'.

"Strong enough to 'punch Glory Girl through solid rock', according to the director," Aegis quoted. Gallant underlined 'brute'

"What else?"

"She did something weird when she got knocked into the police cars," Aegis said. "She treated one of the vehicles like a springboard." He waved one of his arms wigglingly, prompting looks of disquiet from the other kids. Gallant frowned, then wrote 'weird movement'.

"You think that was the same thing she did to the streetlight?" Clockblocker asked. "Made it rubbery, then left it in place?" Gallant erased 'weird movement' and wrote 'rubbery striker'.

"Oh, god damnit!" Kid Win said. "It was a pun!"

"What?" several of the others asked.

"When she wrapped me up in the streetlight, she said 'no hard feelings'. She'd done something weird to me when I fell off my board," Kid Win said. "I was high enough and fast enough that I should have hurt myself, but she grabbed me and did… something. When we hit the ground, my… my propio-whatsit…"

"Proprioception?" Gallant suggested.

"Yeah, that got all messed up when we hit. It felt like I wasn't in the right shape for a moment. Whatever it was, my armor didn't even get scuffed from the fall."

"Sounds like she likes you," Clockblocker teased.

"Then she put me in a joint lock and threatened to break my arm if I kept struggling."

"Sometimes girls hit the boys they like."

"Clock, this isn't the time," Aegis told him. "Save it for after the debrief."

Gallant hadn't written anything down for this point yet. "So what would you call that?"

"I dunno." Kid Win frowned when the rest of the Wards looked at him. "What? I was in midair at the time. Didn't really have a lot of time to analyze it."

"It could be the same thing she did to the streetlights, just defensive," Aegis said.

"Striker invulnerability?" Browbeat asked. Vista hummed. Gallant wrote it down.

"Okay, this is good stuff. How do we deal with her?"

"Clockblocker," Aegis said immediately. "Striker versus striker, he wins every time." Gallant wrote down 'Clockblocker wins' in my column, which I had to admit was fair, assuming I was dumb enough to let him touch me.

"Good, good. What interfered with Clockblocker most, today?"

"The fucking bugs!" Clockblocker yelled. "They were all over me! Ripping my costume, crawling through the holes, even in my nose and mouth—" he stopped and gave a full-body shudder.

"I can ask Beacon for advice on designing something to deal with that," Kid Win said. "Some kind of bug repelling field."

"I would love you forever."

"Then put a ring on it," he answered, to general laughter. "Skitter had a baton, but she didn't do anything other than menace a couple hostages with it."

"I think she hit me with it," Clockblocker complained. "Someone smacked me in the knees while I was blind."

Gallant wrote 'baton' 'tinkertech solutions?' in Skitter's column, then doubled back and wrote 'taser' in Regent's. "What other equipment have they used?"

"Who had the pepper spray?" Aegis asked. The other Wards shrugged.

"Tattletale threatened Panacea with a gun," Vista said. The word 'gun' became the second item in her column. "Flux hit her with a flyswatter, too."

"Why?" Clockblocker asked. No one offered an answer. Gallant wrote 'flyswatter?' in my column.

"Speaking of Flux: you hit her, right, Aegis?" Kid Win asked. "Before she tied me up?"

"Yeah, why?"

"'Normal' hard, or 'trying to subdue a brute' hard?"

"I just saw her throw Glory Girl like a frisbee," Aegis said. "I didn't pull my punch."

"She didn't seem injured at all when she was manhandling me, so she took a full-strength hit without a scratch."

"Or she's good at hiding injuries," Browbeat offered.

Gallant underlined 'brute' again.

"Let's see… oh, I think Regent needs to be able to see you. He didn't start messing with me until he emerged from the cloud," Kid Win said, and 'line of sight' went under his column.

"You find anything in the reports, Kid?" Gallant asked.

"On Tattletale? Not much. She was pretty brief in her conversations with the hostages, and we can't really trust eyewitnesses for details."

"Her name definitely sounds like a Thinker name," Vista said.

"Do we know how they got the vault open?" Gallant asked. When no one replied, he wrote 'cracked vault?' under Tattletale's column. "Anything else in there, Kid?"

Kid kept poking at the touchpad. "Hellhound was whistling and pointing to direct the dogs. Trained, rather than controlled?" Gallant wrote 'trained dogs' 'whistles/points' under Bitch's column. "Skitter's the opposite; no outward signs she was doing anything at all." Gallant added the words 'direct/mind' to her column, with an arrow towards 'fine control'. "If we assume those dogs have the same density as normal dogs, each of Hellhound's dogs would weigh about four thousand pounds. That's as much as a car." 'Dogs = car sized' went onto the board. "Oh, people agree that Skitter was the one with the pepper spray."

Gallant wrote 'pepper spray' next to 'baton'. "She took Stalker down hard," he said.

"No shit," Clockblocker said. He looked over at Vista.

"What?" she asked. "Stalker's a bitch, but I'm not gonna celebrate some freak kicking her ass hard enough to land her in the hospital. She's still one of us."

"Very forgiving of you," he said.

Vista sighed. "The director had a point. Stalker got herself hurt a lot worse than I was."

"Do we know how bad?" Gallant asked.

Aegis shook his head. "Just that she needed urgent care and is still in the hospital."

"That's pretty bad."

What was it Panacea had said? 'She's not getting up anytime soon'? How badly had the pepper spray messed her up?

"Do you think bug spray would work to counter Skitter?" Browbeat asked.

Gallant started to write 'pesticide', but Aegis shook his head. "Not in a hostage situation," he said. "Not unless we have some sort of Tinkertech spray that doesn't harm people."

"What about fire?" Clockblocker asked.

"How is that any better?"

I got up and made myself a bowl of popcorn, and by the time I got back they'd moved on to the backs of the whiteboards. "Oh, wait!" Vista yelled suddenly. "I know what I was thinking of!"

"What?" Gallant asked.

"Flux's Striker invulnerability. Wasn't the Siberian also a Brute/Striker with the ability to make others invulnerable?"

The Wards exchanged glances. "Now I'm not an expert in class S threats," Clockblocker said, "but I am fairly certain that there are zero circumstances in which the Siberian quits the Nine to become a hammy villain in Brockton fucking Bay, of all places!"

"Cool it, Clock!" Gallant snapped.

"Sorry, but—"

"Don't apologize to me," he said, thrusting his chin towards Vista, who was pouting fiercely.

Clockblocker took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Vista," he said. She gave him the cold shoulder with a huff.

"What's with the attitude, man?" Kid Win asked.

"I dunno, maybe I got spooked by someone suggesting we just fought the Siberian?"

"That's not what she said," Gallant and Kid Win said together.

"I know, I know, no need to jump down my throat!" Clockblocker threw his hands up. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Is it really that crazy?" Aegis asked the silence that followed. "I mean, if she's a total psychopath, it's not like she would have had any attachment to the Nine as people. Maybe she just tossed the identity aside and picked a completely different one." I munched on my popcorn as the conversation grew steadily more divorced from reality.

"I don't think psychopaths work like that," Gallant said.

Vista ignored his objection. "You think she just chose a completely new personality and hopped in with the first team she found?"

"Did you get a look at her?" Kid Win asked Gallant. He shook his head.

Aegis was still talking to Vista. "It's unlikely, but I don't think it's impossible."

"Flux is a bit under six feet, right?" Kid Win asked. He tapped away at the laptop for a few moments. "Siberian was between five eight and five ten. That's dead on."

"Flux's costume has heels, though," Aegis pointed out.

"Almost dead on."

"Why were you looking at Flux's shoes?" Vista asked Aegis.

"She buried me up to my neck in the street. What else was I going to look at?"

"You're giving me nightmares, dude," Clockblocker complained to Kid Win.

"Relax," Gallant told him. "GUARD claimed the bounty on the Siberian. Flux isn't her."

"The director said Flux was probably the one who beat Lung," Kid Win reminded them.

"The flesh tone around her mouth could just be makeup," Vista added, relishing Clockblocker's discomfort.

"Decouple Theory," Browbeat said. The other Wards stopped arguing and turned to him in surprise.

"What-now theory?" Kid Win asked.

"There were a bunch of cases of parahumans triggering with a power that was unusually similar to another parahuman who had recently died," Browbeat explained. "For a while, it was held up as the big exception to the 'all powers are unique' rule."

Clockblocker asked, "And it's called 'Decouple Theory' because…?"

"Well, the theory was that powers existed independent of the parahuman, and that when the owner died, the power just sorta 'came loose' and sat around waiting to be picked up." Browbeat shrugged. "It's been widely discredited, mostly because there are a lot of capes running around now with powers that would have been considered evidence of the theory if they weren't concurrent, but it's an interesting thought."

Kid Win had been tapping away at the laptop again. "If we do assume a 'Decouple', that would mean Flux triggered sometime in February, right? The Slaughterdome was on the twelfth."

"Thirteenth to the sixteenth—twenty four to ninety six hours." Browbeat held up a hand to forestall interruption. "That's not a hard limit—and, again, discredited—but all the best studied cases were in that timeframe."

"Valentine's day heartbreak?" Clockblocker quipped.

"Use your goddamn head, Clock," Vista snapped. "There are a lot worse things that can happen to a girl on Valentine's day than a breakup." Clockblocker gulped and wisely kept his mouth shut.

"You think that makes sense, with her observed powers?" Kid Win asked her.

"Sorry guys, but I'm gonna have to ask you to save this for later," Gallant said. "It's gossip and speculation, and we still need to finish this up."

"We're not done yet?" Clockblocker asked. "How much of those boards do we need to fill?"

"This isn't a school essay, man," Kid Win said. "It's not about 'filling space', it's—" he was cut off by a loud, grating noise issuing from the front door. The Wards scrambled around putting on temporary domino masks, all arguments forgotten. Aegis tried and failed to affix his three times before Gallant grabbed it and fixed it in place a few seconds before the doors opened.

Armsmaster was the first one into the room. His blue and silver armor was polished to a mirror finish, halberd folded and clipped into place on his back. Next to him was Miss Militia, dressed in camo fatigues that were far more flattering than actual military wear, accentuated with American-Flag-patterened scarf and sash around her face and waist, respectively. She also had a rocket launcher draped across both shoulders.

"Hello sir, ma'am," Aegis said, giving another of his noodle-arm salutes. "How's Stalker?"

"Aegis," Armsmaster said with a nod. "She's… stable." Gallant and Browbeat exchanged a look at the pause in his words. "How are your arms?"

"Mostly useless, I'm afraid," Aegis admitted. "They'll heal, though."

"Indeed they will," he stated. "We brought a guest." The two adult heroes moved aside to reveal Panacea, clad in her white and red healer's robes. An ID card displaying her picture next to the word GUEST in large blue letters hung from a lanyard around her neck.

"I wanted to thank you for coming to my rescue," she said, forcing a smile. "I know you had a hard time out there."

"You and Victoria are okay?" Gallant asked.

"Yeah. Vicky's pride was hurt worse than anything else, and they didn't hurt me. I think they were actually afraid of hurting me." Panacea's smile slipped. "Even the villains treat me like I'm made of glass," she mumbled, too quietly for anyone in the room to hear, before forcing the smile back on her face. "Aegis, may I fix your arms?"

"Vista first," Aegis said. Vista opened her mouth to protest, but he insisted, "You're not used to hand to hand fighting, and the paramedics were overworked. I want to make sure nothing was missed."

"Fine," Vista said grudgingly, before turning to Panacea with a smile. "You can heal me any time, Panacea." Panacea took Vista's hand, and the younger girl immediately relaxed as the lingering pain in her shoulder disappeared. She moved to Aegis next, and his arms twitched freakishly as the bone fragments lined back up and fused together.

"Was anyone bitten?" she asked. Just about everyone raised their hands, and she did them one after the other in quick succession.

Armsmaster had moved over to inspect the whiteboards, flipping them back and forth between their front and back. "These are good points," he told the group. "I think you may be relying on Clockblocker too much, however. You've got him marked down as the answer for three different villains."

Gallant defended his work. "Possible answer. His power is good against targets without clear weaknesses."

Armsmaster hummed in agreement. "That's fair. This is a problem, though." He tapped the Tattletale column, which didn't reach even halfway down one side of the board. "Panacea, you interacted with her, didn't you?"

"Not really? I mean, she waved a gun at me and took my phone—which she never gave back, by the way—but mostly she sat at a computer and glared at me whenever I thought about trying to escape."

"Thought about?" Miss Militia repeated ominously.

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Armsmaster said. "There are numerous other explanations: pre-cog, for just one example."

"Intent-based precog?" Aegis suggested.

"It fits the name," Browbeat agreed. Aegis grabbed a marker and jotted down 'precog?' 'intent-based?' in the empty space. Even with working arms, his handwriting sucked.

"Did you interact with any of the others?" Armsmaster asked Panacea.

"Flux was weird. She kept trying to be all friendly with me, like she thought she could make me like her even though she was robbing a bank."

"Definitely not the Siberian," Gallant said.

Miss Militia raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

Aegis explained, "Vista pointed out that Flux's ability to apply invulnerability as a Striker effect was similar to the Siberian's power, since she was also a Brute/Striker who could protect other people with her invulnerability."

"Clock overreacted," Kid Win added, "so we started giving him shit about it."

Aegis nodded. "Browbeat mentioned the Detachment Theory—"

"Decouple Theory," Armsmaster corrected him. "And that theory has been widely discredited, to the point that it's unlikely to offer any useful information."

"It would put her likely trigger event on Valentines Day," Aegis pointed out.

Miss Militia and Armsmaster exchanged a long glance that contained an entire conversation. "I can spend some time digging through the police reports for February," she said. "It's a long shot, but we might get a hit."

"We can't use her civilian identity against her," Browbeat said. "Right? We wouldn't do that."

Armsmaster looked to Miss Militia to field the question. "Of course we wouldn't arrest her in her civilian identity," she explained, "but there are other options. If we can offer her help in seeking justice against her… attacker, we might be able to flip her. She's already shown heroic tendencies."

"She robbed a bank," Panacea said. "You'd just, what, ignore that? 'Let bygones be bygones'?"

"If it gets a villain off the street and a new hero on the beat, then yes," Miss Militia said. "The Protectorate has forgiven worse. In the long term, turning villains into heroes is the best possible result of any confrontation, because it's a self-perpetuating process."

"You heroism sound like a virus," Panacea muttered. In her normal voice, she asked, "What about Stalker?"

Miss Militia frowned. "Stalker's injury is… tragic, of course, but…" she trailed off, thinking. "We would ensure justice is done," she finished, with forced confidence.

"And what do you do the next time they decide they don't want to play by the rules?"

"You're not in a position to criticize, here," Armsmaster said sharply. Miss Militia jabbed him in the side with her elbow. "No, Militia, this needs to be said. Glory Girl nearly killed a hostage today because she was unwilling or unable to follow instructions."

"I could have—"

"Healed him?" Armsmaster interrupted. "Possibly. If you'd gotten to him in time, if he hadn't been hit in the head. Being able to undo your sister's mistake does not give her a free pass to make those mistakes, not when they could get people killed. What if it had been you who'd been under that rock?"

Panacea cringed under the onslaught. "She wouldn't hurt me," she said weakly.

"Armsmaster, this is not the time," Miss Militia said. "Save it for the meeting with Brandish. Panacea, this has been a very stressful day, and the media circus hasn't been helping." She jabbed Armsmaster with her elbow again.

"I'm sorry," he said. "This entire situation has been incredibly stressful. That is not an excuse; just context for my poor behavior. I hope you can forgive my outburst."

"S'fine," Panacea mumbled. "Can I go now?"

"Yes," Miss Militia said. "Thank you for you time, Panacea."

"Actually, can I talk to you for a moment?" Gallant asked. When everyone turned to look at him, he coughed and mumbled, "I just have a question, that's all."

"Whatever." He nodded and lead her over to his alcove in the private section of the base. Gallant sat down on a chair, while she took a seat on the bed, lowering her hood with a scowl. "What's this about?" she asked.

"Armsmaster mentioned undoing mistakes," he said simply.

Panacea swallowed. "And?"

"And your emotions—then and now—make me thing you've actually been undoing her mistakes." When she didn't respond, he took off his own mask and rubbed a hand over his brow. "How many times?" he asked. Panacea didn't answer. "Once? Twice? Five times? More?"

"…more," she admitted.

"Christ!" he yelled. She quailed, and he held up his hands in front of himself. "Sorry. I'm not angry at you, Amy. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted. It's just… god damn it, she should know better than this!" He stood up and started pacing back and forth. "Damn, damn, damn. Has this come up before? Was she ever—stupid question, every hero is accused of unnecessary force by one asshole or another. God, I bet your mom is having a complete fit."

"Home has been… tense."

"I bet. Does your mom know about this? That you've helped…" he stumbled over the words, "…cover up her 'mistakes'?"

"No."

"You need to tell her." When she shook her head, he insisted, "Someone needs to tell her. It doesn't have to be you; if you give me permission, I can call her instead."

"No!" Panacea blurted out. "Please, don't. Don't you dare! She'll… she'll hate me."

"Amy, she needs to know. Not because it's 'right' or 'the truth', but because she needs to be prepared to deal with this when it comes out. Because it will come out. If public opinion is against Vicky, anyone she's ever 'mistake-d' is going to have a platform on every paper and news channel in the city to start making accusations."

"I can't tell her," Amy said. "I… I know it was wrong, but it's so hard to say no to Vicky. She needed my help. What would have happened if I said no? She could have gone to jail."

"I know you were just trying to help. But by helping, you let her keep doing more damage." He stopped pacing in front of Amy, crouching down to put himself on her eye level. "Whatever you're afraid your mom's reaction is going to be, it's going to be far worse if she's surprised."

She shook her head. "I can't. She'll blame me."

"Shouldn't she? You're both responsible for what you've been doing." Amy recoiled, and I made a note to punch 'Gallant' a little harder than normal next time we met. "You can tell her yourself, or let me do it, but you can't hide this forever. Not after today."

"Fine!" she growled. "Call her. If you can't stay out of my life, you might as well start speaking for me, too!" She yanked her hood back over her face and stormed back out into the common area, brushing past the Wards and heading for the elevators without a backwards glance. Gallant watched her go with a pained expression on his face, then pulled a phone out of a drawer and started to dial. The camera cut away to an exterior shot of a random suburban home before he finished punching in the number.

Huh.

For a moment, I thought this might have been a mistake—a video left on the disk that hadn't been overwritten, or something—but then one of the second floor windows opened up and a child climbed out and dropped into the bushes below. The camera followed her as she fought free of the bushes and ran down the street, before cutting into a neighbor's yard seconds before two black vans screeched to a half in the middle of the road and disgorged a dozen heavily-armed military-looking men. This would be Coil making a play for Dinah, then.

A picture-in-picture in the bottom right of the screen tracked the Undersider's progress through the bank along with an old faux-digital watch face, since the camera cut ahead several times rather than capturing the full ten-and-a-bit minutes of flight. Dinah managed time and time again to slip through the tightening net with only a second to spare, but eventually her luck ran out. The fight at the bank was in full swing when she didn't quite get through the tightening net in time and was literally stuffed into a sack. She was either too tired to resist, or had her predictions telling her it would be alright, since she was just dead weight as the men dragged her down the block and threw her into the back of one of the vans.

I took a deep breath, frowning at the screen. Lisa had said Coil was having problems, so I'd assumed we'd gotten Dinah away, but this didn't look promising. Surely Diane wouldn't have just recorded the whole thing if they'd actually managed to kidnap her, right? Had we swapped her out for a decoy? Damn it, I should have actually helped make the plan rather than just asking for help and running off.

The other van sped off in the opposite direction, out of town, while the van with Dinah turned back towards the city center. The mercs stopped to change vehicles twice, once into an unmarked white van, then again less than a mile later into a work van with a paint job advertising a roofing repair company. The camera cut again to a wide-angle news-helicopter-style view as the picture-in-picture—currently showing a tide of darkness sweeping across town—expanded to fill the other half of the screen. I realized what was about to happen only a few seconds before the two pictures merged and Coil's mercs screeched to a halt, completely blind.

The driver spent a few seconds cursing violently before managing to find the light switch on the van's ceiling; the cabin had been sealed, so he could still see once he had a source of light. He grabbed his radio and called in, "Boss, we ran into the fuckin' Undersiders. We're fuckin' blind 'till this shit fades!"

Too bad for him the darkness blocked radio—or so I thought; the response was a few seconds in coming, but it did come. "Get out of the van and find a manhole cover—it should be in front of you. Climb down, then head eight hundred feet south-east; another van will be waiting there." I suppose it made sense that Coil would find a way to overcome Grue's power, probably with some sort of tinkertech. Where did Coil get this stuff, and why was it all so… pedestrian?

"You got it, boss," he said, before releasing the radio and yelling, "Fuckin' hell! He wants us to fuckin' walk through this shit?" He punched the dash in frustration. "You, cable yourself up and find that fuckin' manhole!" The passenger flipped him the bird before clipping a retractable spool of polymer wire on his rig to the inside of the van and hopping out the door. The first merc, who I nicknamed Driver, had to lean over and pull the door shut before too much darkness managed to creep in.

The clock in lower corner skipped ahead about ten minutes as the camera cut to the interior of the storm drain system. A few wisps of darkness drifted down as the mercs descended the latter one by one, the first one down swearing profusely as he steadied the bag containing their captive on his shoulder with one hand. One by one, all seven mercs descended the ladder, each one clicking on a flashlight as they reached the bottom. The last one down stopped to reset the manhole cover before descending the rest of the way.

The final merc—I recognized him as Driver by his voice—clicked his radio on again. "We're in the drains, boss, heading north now." The response was clipped and distorted. "Didn't hear a fuckin' thing you just said, but roger." He pulled his hand off the radio and spat. "Fuckin' piece of garbage. 'Works anywhere' my ass. Right. It's pretty roomy down here—" as if to contradict himself, he turned his flashlight to illuminate a pipe that would only barely fit a crawling man. "Aw, fuck this! We're not carrying the kid a quarter mile through that. Unwrap her." The merc who had been carrying Dinah dumped her out of the sack, and Driver loomed over her, shining the flashlight directly in her eyes. "Listen, kid. This is how this is gonna work: you ever want to see your fuckin' family again, you're going to come with us and not make a fuckin' fuss. Understand?"

Dinah winced at the question, then carefully enunciated, "Ninety nine point eight four percent chance you are all dead within the next thirty seconds."

"The fuck is up with this kid?" one of the mercs in the back asked, then died messily as Zero chopped his head apart with a zweihander. Barely ten seconds later, she and Dinah were the only two living people in the tunnel, both absolutely drenched in blood. Well, my 'help' sucked. Fucking hell, poor kid's probably traumatized as shit now!

Zero sauntered up to Dinah and said, "Right, I'm not supposed to ask you questions, so I'm gonna say things and you're gonna agree and disagree. You understand how this is going to work."

"Agree."

"You have questions."

"Disagree."

"Huh. Alright. You probably don't want me to touch you."

"Disagree."

"As you wish, kid." Zero picked Dinah up and let her wrap her arms around her neck, supporting the girl with the hand that wasn't wielding the blood-drenched greatsword. She headed off away from the island of light cast by the dead men's flashlights, and a few seconds later, the two disappeared into the gloom.
 
Chapter 18: Visits
Chapter 18: Visits


I shut the TV off and opened a door into the Warehouse to ask Zero what the fuck she'd been thinking, only to be immediately waylaid by a tweenage missile.

"THANK YOU!" Dinah yelled as she hugged me around the waist. I looked down at her in surprise, then up at Diane and Jenn, who were smirking at us from a nearby bench.

"She determined you'd be coming through here," Jenn said, by way of explanation.

"Sorry we abducted you," I told her, then replaced my next question with a statement. "You seem to be doing okay."

"You can ask how I'm doing!" Dinah yelled, raising her head to beam up at me. "It's fine! My head feels great!"

"What did you give her?" I asked Diane.

"I put a weak seal on her power. She has to focus to use it, now."

"I can use it as much or as little as I want!" Dinah said. "That's how I figured out how to find you!"

"That's great," I told her, ruffling her hair. "How's she holding up?"

"She's doing well," Diane said. "With her permission, I have partially repressed her memories of the abduction. She still remembers today, but only the events, stripped of emotional context."

"Wow. Remind me to ask you about that later." I looked back down at Dinah, who finally released me and stepped back. "I'm glad you're doing okay. I'm really sorry we abducted you again—"

"I don't mind!" she interrupted me. "I mean, it wasn't an abduction, really. I would have gone anyway, if I'd had time to think about it."

"Still," I insisted. "I could have done more. I'm sorry those people got as close as they did—"

"Thirty four point five one percent chance I would have died within a year anyway, even if you stopped them at their source," Dinah rattled off, then paled slightly at her own words. Yikes. "I mean, um, this is way better than just trying to protect me and my family. Even if you stopped everyone coming for me, I would still be lying awake at home, in pain. Point zero zero two seven one eight percent chance I would have found a way to control my power this well if you hadn't pulled me out of the world."

"Out of the world?" I repeated, with a questioning glance at the bench.

"Zero percent chance we're still in Earth Bet, or in a pocket dimension within Earth Bet," she recited. "My power doesn't do zeros, or hundreds, so don't try to lie! You guys have something really weird going on, here."

That was quite the understatement.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," I said.

"Some. I know you're good guys. You're keeping me safe."

I glanced at Diane, who nodded. "We've made sure Coil will believe she died along with the rest of his team, and no one else has any reason to suspect she would be in the drains in the first place, but we need to keep her hidden to sell that story."

So that's why you let Zero carve a bunch of people into chunky salsa right in front of her? I thought irritably. Sure, Diane might have undone the damage, but that couldn't have been—

«Yes,» Diane's voice said right into my head. «It may seem callous, but the harm was temporary. What makes a memory traumatic is the intense psychological response associated with it. Without that, it affects her less than something she might have seen on TV—»

What the fuck.

"Sorry!" Diane said quickly. "I'm not actively looking through your head! That thought was so loud I thought it was intentional; something you didn't want to say out loud."

"Rude," Dinah chastised… her? Me? Hard to tell.

I sighed. "It's…" Okay? Forgivable? Good to know I can broadcast? "…whatever. Back on topic: what does her family think?"

"They know she's missing, obviously, but nothing else. If she's going to be in here long-term, we can figure out a way to let her parents know she's okay without tipping Coil off. Any idea how long she'll be staying?"

I hadn't really been thinking much about Operation: Murder Coil. It wasn't that he didn't have it coming, it was that, for the most part, I'd been content to let things play out more or less as they had in canon. Well, now I had a time limit. "Hopefully not too long," I hedged. "Depends on whether L—Tattletale," I corrected myself, "is going to take over like—" I cut myself off again, before I could mention 'canon'.

"Eighteen point two zero percent chance it's less than one week. Sixty four point seven seven percent chance it's less than a month. Ow." Dinah rubbed her head.

I frowned, both at the numbers and her straining herself. "Take it easy, there."

"M'okay," she said stubbornly. I couldn't resist ruffling her hair again, which earned me an S-class pout and temporary abandonment. Dinah ran back to the bench, where she hopped up next to Jenn, kicking her feet happily. It was funny: they looked about the same age, despite Jenn being chronologically older than a human lifespan—probably, I'd never gotten an exact answer about that. "Hey, you should join us for dinner!"

I opened my mouth to decline, but she was just so earnest. "Sure," I said. "Let's eat."

———X==X==X———​

It wasn't quite dinner time yet (according to Dinah), so I had some time to kill. Alec had suggested during our celebratory party that I have some fun winding people up online. "Plenty of capes troll their own threads for shits and giggles," he'd said. "It's even more fun when villains do it, because people always freak out. It's like they think we're not allowed on the internet." I probably shouldn't have, but since I was feeling pretty good about how things had gone, I decided I was feeling mischievous today.

I changed back into my costume and used a plain concrete wall in the Warehouse as a backdrop to snap a few photos on my phone; it amused me to imagine thinkers trying to identify the platonic ideal of generic backgrounds. Then it was a simple matter of heading over to the Warehouse's internet cafe, registering a new PHO account—turns out 'Flux' had been reserved following my debut—and seeing how much consternation my mere presence would cause.



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♦ Private message to @MODERATION:

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♦ Topic: Flux
In: Boards ► Villains ► North America ► New England
hospex (Original Poster)
Posted On Apr 14th 2011:
Flux: Brute/Striker. Snazzy jacket. Crazy hair. Ham and Cheese personality.

Discuss

(Showing page 7 of 7)

►Redscarecrow
Replied On Apr 14th 2011:
What exactly is the pattern on Flux's costume, anyway?

►Supersonic Eagle
Replied On Apr 14th 2011:
@Redscarecrow some sort of line pattern? I don't think its anything specific

►Flux_VERIFYME
Replied On Apr 14th 2011:
Hey guys! The wiki image is a nice action pic, but it's kinda blurry. How about using this selfie I just took, instead?
End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 5, 6, 7
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I counted to ten and hit refresh.



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♦ Topic: Flux
In: Boards ► Villains ► North America ► New England
hospex (Original Poster)
Posted On Apr 14th 2011:
Flux: Brute/Striker. Snazzy jacket. Crazy hair. Ham and Cheese personality.

Discuss

(Showing page 7 of 10)

►Redscarecrow
Replied On Apr 14th 2011:
What exactly is the pattern on Flux's costume, anyway?

►Supersonic Eagle
Replied On Apr 14th 2011:
@Redscarecrow some sort of line pattern? I don't think its anything specific

►Flux (Verified Cape)
Replied On Apr 14th 2011:
Hey guys! The wiki image is a nice action pic, but it's kinda blurry. How about using this selfie I just took, instead?

►LunaR
Replied On Apr 14th 2011:
OMG

►argo279
Replied On Apr 14th 2011:
omg flux

►hospex
Replied On Apr 14th 2011:
First! Edit: FUCKING HOW

►kurokosi
Replied On Apr 14th 2011:
FLUUUUUUUX <3 <3 <3 <3

►Supersonic Eagle
Replied On Apr 14th 2011:
OMG is that really @Flux
Edit: Verified AAAAAAAAAAH YEEEEEAH

►TheGrizzzz
Replied On Apr 14th 2011:
Yall are gullible as hell
EDIT: Eating my words! HI FLUX!!!

►TheBigFreeze
Replied On Apr 14th 2011:
Not partying until it's verified.
EDIT PARTIES ON GUYS
End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10
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Once it became apparent that I was A) actually Flux (the Verified tag helped) and B) sticking around to chat, the questions started. I answered a few of the more harmless ones honestly—as best I could; they wanted me to choose one favorite ice cream flavor!—and snarked through the rest. It seemed to make a good impression, judging by the mood in the thread when I finally signed off and headed off to the Palace.

It was just as well I'd gotten my share of talking done online, because Dinah dominated the conversation over dinner. She seemed excited by her near brush with slavery; I guess with the trauma treated, it was nothing more than a particularly exciting story. The degree of satisfaction with which she described the mercenaries' deaths was… slightly concerning, but not unjustified. I also heard about her favorite food, dessert, color, school subject, book, movie, and sport, although they were listed in such rapid order than I didn't manage to actually learn any of them. She seemed to be making up for weeks of headaches with energy not even Jenn could match.

———X==X==X———​

I'd mentioned needing to talk to Erin during dinner, and Diane told me she was in tonight, so I went looking for her rather than calling her again. After finding the lounge empty, I headed over to the games room; she wasn't there either, but to my surprise, Emily was. She sitting at a table in the corner playing cards with James, Sonoshee, and a red-headed woman I hadn't been introduced to yet.

"Hey," I said. "What'cha playing?"

"Bridge," Emily said. "Oh, have you met Rita?"

"We haven't met," Rita said.

"In that case: Rita, Cass. Cass, Rita." The name didn't help me place her; only one Rita came to mind, and I didn't think Skeeter was the sort of person Homura would hang out with.

"Nice to meet you," she said. "So, you're paired up with Akemi this jump?"

"Likewise, and, well, not so much 'paired up with' as 'being looked after by'."

Rita chuckled politely at my joke. "Need to borrow my Bridge partner for bit, then?"

"Nah," I said. "I'm actually looking for Erin. Have you seen her around?"

"She was in the lounge earlier, but you probably already checked there."

"Zero was looking for someone to play pool with," Sonoshee said. "She might have gotten roped in to a game."

"Thanks." I said my goodbyes and headed over the arcade, where Erin was indeed playing pool with Zero. "Hey, Erin?"

"Sup?" She looked up at me as she answered, then returned to concentrating on her current shot.

"I was wondering if you'd spoken to Panacea after the bank."

"Ah. Yeah, I did." The ball bounced off the lip of the pocket and drifted back into the middle of the table. "Bah!"

"How's she doing?" I asked.

"As well as can be expected. She's upset about the robbery, obviously, and more than a little confused."

"Confused?"

"You really got under her skin. Not in a bad way!" she corrected herself. "More in a… not-according-to-expectations way. She'd never actually spoken to an avowed villain before, and you were nothing like she imagined." Erin grabbed a cube of chalk and applied it to her cue while she spoke. "Tattletale and Grue were more or less how she'd though villains would be; you know, serious and menacing. Then you walked up and started talking to her like a normal person, and she didn't know what to do."

"That's… good?"

"Well, it's not bad, at least."

Zero sunk one of her balls, but the cue ball immediately followed. She cursed and fished the balls out of the pocket. "No super-pool skills, huh?" I asked.

"Table's enchanted to get rid of them." Zero said. "Takes the fun out of it." Erin attempted the same shot she'd missed earlier and missed again. "It's mostly something to do while we talk, you know?"

"Makes sense to me. Back to Panacea, though," I said, turning back to Erin. "What about the whole… sister issue?"

"I'm working on it," Erin said. "I'm trying to get her to see me as a parental stand-in. Hopefully, she'll be willing to confide in me sooner rather than later, and then I'll actually be able to address it directly. I'm hoping we won't have to use a sledgehammer instead of a scalpel and try to undo the damage manually; it's hard to get permission for that in a world where the only recognized telepath is the damn Simurgh."

Zero sank a ball, then spun her pool cue around herself in victory. "Parental, huh?" she asked.

"Yeah. Kid's spent ten years in an emotionally abusive household. She needs an out, and I'm trying to be there."

"I'm glad," I said.

"It hasn't worked yet." Erin sighed. "I'm trying, I really am, but I'm not sure it's going to be enough."

"I'd help if I could, but I don't think she'd appreciate it."

"Probably not," she agreed. Zero missed her next shot, so Erin took hers again, and accidentally sunk the eight-ball. "Wow."

Zero tapped the table, and the balls reset themselves into a triangle. "You break."

We'd more or less covered the Amy Dallon issue, so I asked, "How's the Protectorate?"

"It's going well, mostly. I'm stuck in an office love triangle, which is always fun." Erin shot the cue ball at the wedge, knocking the balls every which way. The cue ball was hit by reflected balls twice before ending up in a side pocket. "Are you serious?" she mumbled.

"Love triangle?"

"Either she's the naturally jealous type, or my fixation on Colin made Dragon develop her crush early." We watched Zero sink two balls of opposite 'colors' in the same shot, to her dismay. "It doesn't help that we have almost the same specialty; I got meta-tinker from my random roll."

"Oh, wow. That's, uh, awkward?"

Erin laughed. "Maaajor understatement. And of course Colin has absolutely zero clue, to top it off." She took another shot and missed.

"Ouch," I said. "You went to Brockton to meet him specifically, right?"

"Yeah. I always thought he got dealt a rough hand in canon." She took a moment to watch Zero miss another shot. "I mean, sure, he played it well enough, and he caused of a lot of his own problems, but that just makes him human. And for all his flaws, it's not his fault the Queen of Escalation happened to trigger in his city."

"I suppose not." I'd never been a fan of Armsmaster, but I could understand why she was. "How is he, as a person?"

"Intense. Focused. Smart. Tactless, sometimes, but sensitive in his own way. Good looking—he's fit under all that armor."

Zero nodded approvingly. "Nice."

"You're really pursuing him, then?" I asked.

"Eh. I like him, but I'm not sure I'd Stay for him. If we have a fling that sets him up with Dragon, that might be the best case scenario for everyone." Erin stepped up to the table and knocked the cue ball into the three, into the fourteen, into the eight, which slid happily into the corner pocket. "For fuck's sake! How do I still suck this much after hundreds of years?"

"Beats me," Zero said. "Practice?"

———X==X==X———​

It was a quarter past seven by the time I actually got home, and there was a message waiting for me on the answering machine. "Hey, it's me," Sophia rasped. "Would'a called your cell but I don't have my phone. I'm at Brockton General. Can you swing by?" That was the entire message. Curious, I hopped into the sedan and headed off to Brockton Bay General Hospital.

I paused on my way to the reception desk when I realized I had no idea how to actually get to Sophia. She'd have been admitted under her cape identity, and I doubted they'd just let anyone who asked see an injured hero. I was saved from my conundrum when a young man in plainclothes bearing the tell-tale bulge of a shoulder holster approached me and whispered, "Miss Hudson?" as he compared me to a photo he was carrying—a copy of my driver's license photo, unless I missed my guess.

"Yes? I mean, uh, that's me."

"You're expected. Put this on." He handed me a disposable mask—a white, papery thing with an elastic headband that covered my cheeks, eyes, and forehead—then lead me past the desk, up two flights of stairs, and down a series of hallways. It was obvious when we'd arrived by the way the door had two more plainclothes agents standing in the hall, casually not guarding it. He rapped on the door twice, then stuck his head through for a moment before telling me, "You may enter." I did.

The hospital room was pretty nice, as such things went. It was large enough to be a serviceable bedroom, and had a door leading off one side that was probably a bathroom. The wall opposite the door was dominated by a large window, obscured by heavy canvas curtains. The right wall had a television and a clock near the ceiling, as well as a somewhat childish mural of sea life. The bed was between the door and the window, the head against the middle of the left wall; it was one of those mechanical folding beds, with a large tray near the head bearing a cup and pitcher. The linens were white with an anemic floral pattern, and underneath those was Shadow Stalker.

Sophia was propped up in a sea of pillows, blankets drawn up to her waist, another disposable mask over her face. When I entered, she was watching a bunch of talking heads rehash today's events. She stiffened when she saw me, then fumbled the remote off her lap and turned the television off. "Hudson," she said in greeting. She sounded better than she had on the phone, at least, but there was still something off about her voice, and her facial expression was flat to the point of being limp.

"He—err, what should I call you?"

"Whatever. Room's soundproofed." Her P's sounded more like W's. She grabbed her cup with both hands and took a drink from the straw. It clattered when she put it back down on the tray. "Surprised you're willing to come see me like this."

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked. There were a couple cheap plastic orange chairs in one corner of the room, so I pulled one over besides the bed and sat down.

"Emma didn't." She didn't sound mad, or even sad. She sounded resigned. "I'm done."

"What!?" I couldn't believe a single loss could have possibly broken her that badly. "You're going to quit?"

She had a coughing fit that might have been laughter. "I mean I'm done," she repeated. "You know. Damaged goods. Broken."

"Panacea can't help?"

"I got maced in the brain, Hudson!" she snapped. "Docs can't fix it. Panacea can't fix it. How am I supposed to fight like this?" She held her arms out in front of her, showing me the tremors. Brain damage. The flat affect and weird voice were because she was having trouble moving her face. "I can't be a hero like this; I can't even properly wash myself. I'm a fucking invalid!"

Christ. I felt tears prick at the corner of my eyes, and wiped them away quickly; the only thing that would piss Sophia off more than crying in front of her would be crying for her. "There… there have got to be other options, right?" I knew we had something that would help; brain damage was child's play to some of the medical wonder-fixes Max had picked up over the years, surely. "Tinkertech, or physical therapy, or something."

"Maybe. Don't care." Sophia turned her head out the window, away from me. "My life's all fucked up. 'Sophia' is sick with the flu, but sooner or later I'll have to go back to ordinary life, and I'll still be a fucking cripple."

"But there are ways to fix it!"

"I. Don't. Care." She nearly spat the words. "Everything's wrong, anyway. I thought I had it all figured out, you know? Life. Survivors and victims. That whole spiel." She reached out for her cup again and dropped it, spilling water on the linoleum floor and splashing my shoes. "Fuck."

"I got it!" I grabbed the cup, refilled it from the pitcher, and fit the lid back on, then held the straw to her lips. "Gotta squeeze it," she said, and I did. "Where was I?"

"Uh, your 'whole spiel'."

"Right. I thought, you know, as long as I kept fighting, I'd never be one of the victims. Never be weak." She let out a huff. "Look where that got me. Hebert's kicking ass and taking names, and I'm in a hospital bed, ready for hospice care." For a moment, I thought she'd managed to connect Taylor to Skitter, until I remembered that Taylor had kicked her in the head only yesterday.

"I thought I was invincible, you know? Untouchable. But I think I get it, now, what you and Hebert were on about. Sometimes, fighting just gives someone an excuse to ruin you. Water?" I held the cup out again and gave her another sip. "It's ironic, right? I was so used to my power keeping me safe, and it's what ended up destroying me."

"You're not destroyed—"

"I am. I'm through, Hudson, and you're not going to make me feel better by sugarcoating it." She shook her head jerkily, as if trying to shake off her mask. "I'm lucky I'm still alive. If Panacea hadn't literally been twenty feet away, I would have died. There's no way the paramedics could have gotten the swelling down."

Holy shit. I mean, that's a bad power interaction through and through, but still! Taylor nearly killed someone today, and then kicked her while she was down just for the hell of it. My mind flashed, unbidden, to the conversation I'd had with Panacea only minutes before the fight. Did this world still run on narrative logic? Had I fucking foreshadowed this by accident?

"Don't fucking look at me like that," Sophia said. "Please." I schooled my face back to neutral, wondering what I'd looked like. "I wonder what they're going to tell my family. Gonna need a good excuse for ending up like this."

"They don't know you're a cape? I thought—"

"Mom does. Trevor doesn't. That was our deal, Mom and me. I keep it to myself, and she doesn't ask where I go at night." Sophia paused, leaving a silence disturbed only by the ticking of the clock next to the TV. "Well, I'm not going anywhere now," she said sadly. "Maybe a mugging gone wrong? Someone punching me in the head?" What—oh, the excuse for her disability. "Hit and run? Heatstroke?"

"In this weather?" I asked.

"Not heatstroke, then," she said, poking at her blanket with clumsy fingers. I let her think in peace, wondering where her mind was going. "Are you religious?"

"Uh, no, not really." It was hard to be, when I moved in the same circles as the closest thing to capital-g God I'd ever meet—and they were an asshole. "Why?"

"Mom was. Tried to raise me right, but I never listened. Thought all that 'turn the other cheek' stuff was bullshit, right? That telling people all their problems were part of God's plan was a way to make them shut up and stop whining." She stopped and took a deep breath before pressing on, "I think… maybe this is. Part of God's plan, I mean. A chance to stop being such a fucking bitch and fix my life."

"That's the clearest sign of brain damage you've shown so far," I said without thinking. I immediately clapped my hands over my mouth in shock, but she just started laughing. It looked and sounded damn weird, since her breathing wasn't quite right and her face wasn't responding properly, but it was sincere.

Her last peal of laughter faded into a sigh. "Thanks, Hudson. I needed that."

"Thank me when I figure out a way to actually help."

"Don't bother." Sophia sat up, and I helped adjust her pillows. "I'm serious. I think I needed this, you know? It's like… fuck, this is gonna sound cocky as hell, but everyone's the hero of their own story, right?"

"Sure."

"Right. Well, sometimes, in movies and shit, the hero only gets better because they get worse."

I think I understood what she was getting at, but I wanted to hear her out, so I said, "That doesn't make any sense."

"I know. Look… say you have a hero who's a total badass, like a boxer, loose-cannon cop, a cowboy, whatever, but he's… he's angry, his marriage is a mess, people hate him, all that shit. Then he fucking loses a hand or some shit like that and suddenly he stops being such a fucking dick, makes up with his wife, gains people's respect, et cetera. Whatever feel-good bullshit the movie decides is supposed to make up for losing a fucking arm." She raised one of her arms and tried to form a fist, the fingers not quite curling all the way closed. "Sure, his career's over, but in the end we're supposed to feel like it's all good. Happy. Like he got something better."

I really wanted to see what the Journal had to say about Sophia's current mental state, but I didn't want to have to explain it to her. "So what happens to Shadow Stalker?"

"She sticks around, I guess. Shows up at press events, scowls at babies. The usual. Show everyone that the heroes may lose, but they're never beaten—even if I am. They're not going to let me fight like this, and I'd only hurt myself if I tried. Water." I held the cup out again. "I was never willing to ask for help," she said once she'd taken her drink. "I had to do everything myself, because I wanted to be everything Mom wasn't. Independent. Strong. Unforgiving. All this shit, it's… it fucking sucks. I'm not okay with you fucking baby-bottling me, or needing a nurse to feed me. But I guess that's the point, if this is supposed to make me a better person. Somehow."

"You know, sometimes, the hero gets better once he's learned his lesson," I said weakly.

"And sometimes Frodo has to go West. Yeah, I fucking read, what of it?" I'd chuckled at the unexpected reference, and Sophia's frustrated glare only made me laugh harder. "At least you're still a bitch, Hudson."

"Sorry!" I tried and failed to stifle my laughter.

"No you're not. See? Still fucking laughing at the cripple." Sophia was close to laughing herself, which made not laughing even harder.

"Should I let her recover her strength in peace, then?"

"Yes, please." The good mood broke as Sophia sighed and turned away to stare at the wall in front of her. "Fuck, it's almost eight. You didn't miss dinner to come to my pity party, did you?"

"You don't need to worry about me," I reassured her. "You're going to be okay?"

"Yeah. Hudson… thanks. For hearing me out." Sophia struggled for a moment before managing something pretty close to a smile. "I really needed to get that off my chest, and I don't know who else I'd talk to, these days."

"I'll stop by again tomorrow—"

"Nah, you did enough. I'll be okay. Although if you want to punch Skitter in the face for me, that'd be pretty cool."

"Uh…" I stuttered, having momentarily forgotten she knew I was a cape. She raised an eyebrow, and I stumbled into an explanation. "You're my friend, and I'd do a lot for my friends… but I'm arachnophobic."

"Seriously?" she asked. I nodded. "Fucking ay, stay the hell away from her, then. Now scram." I said goodbye and headed for the door. Some instinct caused me to pause with my hand on the doorknob, until she added, "Kasey?"

"Yes?" I asked, wondering why she'd suddenly gone back to my first name.

"Would you…" she hesitated. "Would you tell Taylor? About… this? What we talked about? And that…" her face twisted oddly, not quite managing the right expression, whatever the right expression was in this instance. "…that I was wrong. About everything."

"Sure," I said, before I'd finished thinking about all the reasons why I shouldn't. Well, I've given my word, now. "Good—no. See you later, Stalker."

She couldn't quite grin, but her voice still had that tone. "Later, nerd."

———X==X==X———​

__________________________ COMPLETED QUESTS

► [X]_ A Shoulder to Fly On _______________________________ (COMPLETE)
Befriend Taylor
__ I get flies with a little help from my friends.

► [X]_ Eye of the Tiger ___________________________________ (COMPLETE)
Train Taylor
__ Float like a butterfly...

► [X]_ Membership Benefits ________________________________ (COMPLETE)
Join the Undersiders
__ Breaking bad.

► [X]_ Bio Hazard _________________________________________ (COMPLETE)
Stop Panacea from going off the deep end
__ Crisis averted… You expected a 'for now' here, perhaps? Relax.

► [X]_ Heat _______________________________________________ (COMPLETE)
Rob Brockton Bay Central Bank.
__ Don't you love it when everything goes according to plan?


___________________________ ACTIVE QUESTS

▼ [ ]_ Not a Messiah
Redeem the Schoolyard Bullies __________________________________ [1/2]
__ ▼ [X]_ Sophia:
_____ ▼ [X]_ Befriend Sophia
_________ [X] Impress Sophia with your fighting prowess
_______________ –OR–
_________ [ ] Ingratiate yourself with Emma by bullying Taylor
_____ ♦ [X]_ Discover Sophia's past
_____ ▼ [X]_ Convince Sophia to reconsider her world view
________ ♦ [ ]_ Have Taylor defeat Sophia in a spar
_______________ –OR–
________ ♦ [ ]_ Convince Taylor to unmask to Sophia
_______________ –OR–
________ ♦ [X]_ Weaken or cripple Sophia
_____ ♦ [X]_ Convince Sophia to change

Well, that's one way to make an impression.​
__ ▼ [ ]_ Emma:
_____[ ]_ Befriend Emma
_________________________________ (FAILED)
_____ ♦ [ ]_ ??? (Undiscovered)

▼ [ ]_ Snake Eyes
Eliminate Coil
__ ♦ [ ]_ Tell Emily to kill Coil
_________ That's literally all you have to do
__ ♦ [ ]+ Get paid for the bank job (optional)
__ ♦ [ ]+ Take over the organization (optional)
__ ♦ [ ]+ ??? (optional)
———X==X==X———​
 
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Character List
A complete list of all Jumping characters, their 'original' identity, and known aliases. Updated as identities are discovered, either in-story or by readers. May contain spoilers for posted chapters.

Last updated for Chapter 60: "Portraits".

Characters
AliasesNameFromID'd
Max
'Aspect'
MaxReality(?)Prologue
Cass
Kasey Hudson
Cassandra Rhodes
Cassandra Rolins(*?)Unspecified Western AnimationCH 1
Homura
Emily
Akemi HomuraPuella Magi Madoka MagicaCH 1
ZeroZeroDrakengard IIICH 1
GarrusGarrus VakarianMass EffectCH 1
Bob
Robert 'Reinhardt' Bastille
Robert BaratheonA Song of Ice and FireZeushobbit
DarknessDarknessKonosubaCH 1
KarlKarl TagonSchlock MercenaryCH 2
AceArnold 'Ace' RimmerRed DwarfCH 2
Jennifer
Jenn
Jennifer*Author's badly distorted memories of two books
DavidSolid SnakeMetal GearCH 6
Kara
Kathrine 'Kaleidoscope' Tanner
Kara "Starbuck" ThraceBattlestar Galactica(2003)CH 3
MaeveMaeve, Lady of WinterDresden FilesCH 4
Erin
Ellen 'Beacon' North
Erin*Generic Police Procedural
Diane
'Tattletale' (Tales)
Deanna TroiStar Trek: The Next GenerationCH 60
JamesJames 'Sweet JP' PunkheadRedlineParagon_4376
SonosheeSonoshee McLarenRedlineParagon_4376
Rita
'Testimate'
Rita VrataskiAll You Need Is KillParagon_4376
MordyMordin SolusMass EffectCH 37
Hoss
Harry
Horace HarknessHonor HarringtonDomino
ArtArthur MorganRed Dead Redemption SeriesMr MacGuffin
SiriusSirius BlackHarry Potter
DragonDragonWormCH 50
Tess
Theresa Richter
DragonWormCH 54
DinahDinah AlcottWormCH 50
ScionScionWormCH 50
...

How many characters can you figure out before Cass discovers their identity on her own?

Note: Companions marked with * are OCs.
 
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Shout-outs, Easter Eggs, and more...
A list of hidden references, shout-outs, trivia, and Easter Eggs.

Chapter 2
  • In the manner of 'infinite monkeys on infinite typewriters', immortal wargamers will eventually play out every possible scenario. In this case, Cass, Bob, and Karl have inadvertently played out the climactic battle of Book 2 of A World of Bloody Evolution by @RedrumSprinkles.
Chapter 8
  • ???
Chapter 10
  • ???
  • ???
Chapter 13
  • ???
Chapter 14
  • ???
Chapter 17Chapter 18
  • ???
 
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Chapter 19: Stroll
Chapter 19: Stroll


We made the paper, all right. Front page, eclipsing the amber alert for Dinah that had been moved below the fold. There were four separate articles: one covering 'just the facts', one focusing on the actions (and failings) of the Wards and law enforcement in particular—with special care given to Glory Girl's unforced error—an opinion piece pointing fingers at various officials for the debacle, and a short fluff piece on the Undersiders themselves that took two thousand words to say 'we don't know shit'. I got about halfway through the first article before the sheer number of inaccuracies made me give up and just skim the rest; it was downright shocking how bad the eyewitness testimony was. The opinion piece was the most interesting of the four, because it focused on the consequences, and let me know who people were angry at—besides us, obviously. The bank was frantically trying to downplay the severity of the theft; they'd listed a loss of only thirty thousand dollars and hadn't mentioned the documents at all, although 'sources' had leaked that the actual number was much higher.

None of the articles mentioned Shadow Stalker at all.

School on Friday was a blur. Up to now, I had at least been giving classes my full attention—mostly because there was nothing else to do, if I was going to attend—but I was too trying to ignore the sick feeling churning in my gut. Sophia was absent, obviously, and I didn't see Taylor at lunch either, which made me question why I even bothered to attend.

After school, I stopped by the Warehouse to grab a couple potions I'd asked for from Jenn and said hi to Dinah, then headed to the loft, cozily bundled up in a jacket better suited for skiing than hanging around the city streets. There weren't many bus stops deep in the Docks, so getting to the loft was a couple mile's walk through nearly-abandoned streets, past shuttered buildings and other evidence of general destitution. The sidewalks were cracked, weeds shooting up wherever they could find purchase, and the roads hadn't been repaved since the Graveyard sunk. Shops and apartments alike had bars over the windows, even up to the fourth story; I blamed the existence of capes for that. What few people were out during the day in a place like this were only here because they had nowhere else to be; homeless people squatting in alleys, and elderly folks sitting on the stoop, watching the former with suspicion. As I walked, people grew less and less frequent, until I could go a block or two without seeing anyone at all.

I tried not to dwell on the general state of the docks; it was just too depressing. What I was actually thinking about was what I was going to do when I got to the loft. Since Taylor hadn't been in school, she was probably there, which meant I needed to figure out how to talk to her about Sophia. And how to get her out of the loft for that conversation, since I suspected Coil had eyes and ears inside. And speaking of secure… I pulled out my phone and dialed.

The greeting I got was short and businesslike. "Emily."

"Hi Emily, it's Kasey."

"What can I do for you?"

"Two things. First, about tonight—"

"Bakuda's dead," she said.

"So—"

"You'll be fine. I'll be on overwatch."

"Right. Second, uh…" I didn't want to talk about Coil while walking down the street. "We need to talk to in person, lat—" Someone grabbed my arm, and I pulled out of their grip, falling into a stance before I recognized Homura. "Woah. That was… not what I meant."

"Sorry," she said.

"No, it's fine, you just startled me." I glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention to us, and stared. The entire world had been desaturated; the sounds of the city had vanished, and the resulting silence seemed swallow to any sound we made, leaving everything blank and still. I looked back at Homura and noticed she had her shield on her arm, whirring so softly I could barely hear it over my own heartbeat. "Woah. This is time-stop, huh?"

"Yes. I figured if you wanted to talk securely, this would be best."

"No kidding." I took another look around, fascinated. "You don't have to be touching me to keep me stopped?"

"Not if you're within about five meters," she said.

"Handy." That wasn't how her power had worked in the show. Was it a slightly different ability, or a perk she'd—focus, Kasey. "Uh, I was thinking about Coil. I know that you can kill him without issue," I waved an arm at the gray-scaled cityscape, "but I'm worried that if we get unlucky, I'll only end up giving the signal in one timeline, and that would give the game away."

"That's easily solved. Add a delay longer than his typical split. Twenty-four hours should be more than enough."

"I guess that would work." I stuck my hands in the pockets of my jacket and kicked a rock down the road, watching as it snapped to a halt in midair a few feet away. "Coil is such a pain in the ass to plan around because I can't be sure what he's doing in his throwaway timelines. If he decides to spend an afternoon trying to kill me just to take my measure, what kinds of things would he learn about me? Even if you kill him with no warning the moment he tries, that gives up information that we have some kind of counter to his power, and that's going to make him a lot more cautious."

"There's no reason to wait," Homura said. "You don't need his resources."

"I… I guess I don't, do I? I just—gah, I don't know. It feels cheap. Like… like I'm taking something away from her, if I just up and murder him without her."

"Do you think she'd mind?" she asked.

I had to stop and think about that. If I walked up and outright asked, "Hey Lisa, want me to kill Coil today?" the only hesitation would be in figuring out if I could actually follow through. But what would Lisa do, without Coil? Had the Undersiders been together long enough that they would stay together without Coil's machinations, or had they not been forged into an enduring team yet? I had a sinking suspicion that, even if they'd been together for a year or more by this point, it was the crises—Leviathan and the Nine—that really brought them together. Taylor was doing better than I think she ever had in canon, at least as far as the Journal seemed to measure things, so it wasn't like Lisa had a 'project' teammate. Coil dies, and she's in the wind.

She deserved to have that choice, even if I didn't like the outcome.

Homura had been patiently waiting for me to finish stewing in my own thoughts, standing there without fidgeting—or even blinking, as far as I could tell. "We'll deal with Coil sooner, rather than later," I told her. "It's really up to Lisa. Whatever she wants."

She nodded. "Okay. I'll be ready. Anything else?"

"What else have you been doing?" I asked, trying to make some sort of conversation.

"We took care of Saint last night. Erin took some time off sick so she could look over the code with David and Garrus. That was the last major thing I had planned, so I'll be home a lot more."

"That's… that's nice." I had to resist cringing from my own awkwardness; the silence just made it worse. Emily and I were sisters, except only by memory imprint. My jump-self wanted to treat her like family, but Homura didn't want to form attachments, and seemed to prefer interacting with people as acquaintances. I couldn't figure out how I was supposed to act between those two extremes. "So, what do you do when you're not busy?"

"Explore." Most people would have shrugged, or smiled, but Homura continued to speak as though she was reciting lines. "Brockton Bay is a tourist destination, so there are things to do. I'll know if you or your friends are in danger, and I can stop time to arrive instantly, so I don't have to be close."

I had been half afraid she had taken to shadowing me all day. "You can sense danger to others? Who have you included in that?"

"You and Taylor, of course. I got the rest of the Undersiders from time-stop yesterday. Taylor's father. Dinah, since you've gotten her involved. Her parents as well. Grue's sister." After a moment's thought, she said, "I think that's everyone."

"Cool." Great response. Awesome. Fuck it, I needed to air this. "Homura… Emily. I… I don't want to put pressure on you. I respect that you want to keep yourself apart. But…" I licked my lips, trying to put my thoughts in order. "It's weird, the way things are. Homura," I emphasized her name, "I really like and respect you, I think you're really cool as a person, I think you're one of the most loyal friends anyone could ever have. Even if you weren't also my sister this jump, I would want to make sure you were okay, which just makes it harder to separate that concern from sisterly concern. If it's even worth separating… that's not the point. What I'm saying is that, well, I'm worried that you're just… suffering alone.

"I'm not asking you to do anything, or to change, I just… I want to express how I feel, because I'm confused and it keeps feeling like I'm doing the wrong thing by not being closer to you. I don't know if that's the jump memories going 'big sister!' or me projecting loneliness onto you when you prefer solitude or it actually being the wrong thing because you need a friend. So what I'm asking is if you're happy with… this." I gestured between us.

"It's… different," she said. "I usually don't insert into a family; when I do, it's something like our 'Mother' here. A family that 'exists', but doesn't 'matter'. Having to blend in when I know I'm just going to be leaving in a decade anyway is a burden. Having to adopt a personality and fake a connection isn't pleasant."

"Is that what you want?" I asked. "To stay distant?"

"I meant what I said: I can't get attached."

I stopped myself from asking 'So you can't make friends at all?' because that would be putting pressure on her. Some part of the question must have shown on my face, because she added, "I mean, I guess Rita and I are close… coworkers."

But not friends. The comparison slammed into me like a freight train. "You weren't watching me when I made a fool of myself at the bus stop on Wednesday, were you?"

"No."

"You said… you said you made your first friend, right? The first time, when you got to school, and met…" I didn't say the name: it felt wrong, like it wasn't for me to say.

"I did."

"You and Taylor…" I laughed bitterly. "You have the same problem; or maybe the exact opposite problem, but in a 'two sides of the coin' way." I gave her a chance to object, or just ask what I meant, but she didn't; she just stood there, patiently waiting for me to continue.

"Taylor… she was worried, when I started hanging out with Lisa. She said that people just 'move on' from their friends when they meet someone cooler. She was probably thinking of Emma when she said that." Homura nodded. "You… you take it to the other extreme. That friends are forever, unchangingly perfect and idealized. The whole chain probably didn't help with that at all, since it seems to promote that… dynamic.

"But those are both wrong. People can have more than one friend, without replacing anyone. And people can gain and lose friends, fall in and out of love, whatever. People move away, or their interests change, and sometimes you find yourself saying goodbye and meaning it forever. And that's okay, because the fact that you were friends at all is better than being alone."

Homura did not look convinced. "You sound like a Disney movie mentor."

"It's a good lesson." I took a step closer to her, and felt encouraged when she didn't glower or take a step back. "You can be sorta friends with people. You can be good friends with people. You can be best friends with people. And your friendships can change, from sorta to best and back again. I… I'm making friends, here, friends who probably aren't going to follow me. Chances are I'll be leaving everyone I meet behind at the end of the decade. But that just means that I have to be ready to say goodbye, when the moment comes." She didn't say anything. "Homura, again, I don't want to put pressure on you to change for my sake. But you seemed happy, back in January, and I don't see any of that anymore."

"I…" Homura stopped, then spun away as her facade cracked. "Damnit, Kasey," she mumbled. Color and noise rushed back into the world and then vanished just as quickly, putting me back in time-stop with Homura perfectly composed in front of me. "This was a mistake," she said. "I thought… I thought it would be a simple way to stick together. I didn't realize there would be side effects. Expectations—"

"I'm not asking you to do anything for me!" I interrupted her. "I'm concerned about you."

"I've been living this way for longer than you've been alive," she said flatly. Oof. "I'm sorry, Kasey. That was uncalled for." I nodded, having run out of things to say. She turned away slightly so as not to just stare at me while she though. "There are certain expectations in place though. Of familiarity, if not action. Would you have approached me like this if we weren't 'sisters'?"

"I mean… part of the reason I spoke up at all was because of how you'd changed. I know you said the memories were stronger when they were fresh, but not enough to completely change your personality, right?" My lives, at least, had lined up enough that I hadn't found a disconnect between them—or at least I hadn't noticed anything like that. If hers had, and the initial memories were that strong, then I'd misstepped badly; I'd been assuming that Emily was unguarded!Homura, not someone completely different. If I'd been wrong, I owed her an apology, and myself another existential crisis.

"They are significant, especially early. I haven't been adopting the personality, now that the first… impression has worn off." Fuck. "But," she said slowly, "I suppose it couldn't hurt to at least act the part. If you don't mind."

"Not at all!" I said quickly. "Only if you're comfortable with it, of course!"

"I… I am. You were right: I was happier, when I let myself fall into the role." That was quite an admission. "It's different, since I don't have to hide anything from you, and… even if the first impression has worn off, I do still see you as a sister. I don't think I would have reacted this strongly, if I didn't."

I opened my arms, and Emily rolled her eyes and stepped into the hug. "You're going to be around this weekend, right?" I asked.

"I will." She pushed me away with a smirk so slight I might have imagined it. "I'll see you tomorrow. Don't worry about tonight; I'll be watching out for you."

"Thanks, Emily," I said.

"No problem, lil' sis'."

"By twenty minutes!"

———X==X==X———​

I ran into Lisa on my way to the stairs up to the loft—might have physically ran into her, if not for the stray beams of light shining through the gaps in the boarded-up windows. She'd just descended, dressed in concealing but poorly-insulated layers that suggested she had her costume on underneath. "Hey, Kasey—huh. Good news?"

"Nothing special." She raised an eyebrow, but kept quiet. I'd been damn sure there was nothing to suggest I'd just had an emotionally fraught conversation a few blocks away, but either I'd missed something or her power was just bullshit. I fought the urge to turn the anti-thinker dial back to 'obnoxious soundtrack'. "I assume Taylor's upstairs?"

"Yeah, we just got back. You need to talk to her?"

"Yeah—and you, actually." If she was on her way out of the loft, this was a great time to try and talk where Coil wouldn't hear. "I can walk with you, if you're busy. Where're you off to?"

"Around," Lisa said, deliberately not answering the question. "This isn't a great time. I have to make sure all our ducks are in a row for tonight. Catch you later?"

"Sure." One day's delay wouldn't matter in the long term. "Wait, hold on, I got something for you." I pulled two bottles out of my jacket pocket. "These—" I held up the mana potions Jenn had found affected parahuman powers, each labeled with an 'w' to mark that they'd work in Worm, "—will completely remove a Thinker headache and leave you feeling like you haven't used your power for weeks."

"Normally, I'd call bullshit, but you don't joke around with this stuff. Removes the headache—no, completely refreshes powers? Where the hell do you get these things?" Lisa took the small glass phials reverently, turning them over in her hands. "Omega?" she asked.

"Double-u," I corrected a bit too harshly. Damn, that's unfortunate. It hadn't occurred to me that 'ω' and 'w' looked more or less the same in Jenn's loopy handwriting.

"Right." She gave me a searching look. "Someday, you're going to have to explain why you have these. There's no reason you'd have taken them for yourself."

"After we have that talk," I said.

"That just means you won't tell me before then," Lisa pointed out with a pout. I grinned at her, amused that she'd noticed that loophole. She tucked the vials into her purse. "Sorry, can't keep bantering—I do actually have to go. Thank you, though. Really, sincerely, thank you." I let her go, and headed up the stairs and into the loft.

The place was already a mess. The pizza boxes and soda cans from yesterday were piled up under the table, alongside a garbage bag that hadn't been taken out to wherever the Undersiders foisted their trash on the city sanitation services. Books, DVD cases, and other knicknacks had been pulled off the shelves and left where they came to rest, and papers from the robbery planning session were scattered about the floor. I didn't see Taylor, so I walked over past the tables towards the rooms; she must have sensed me coming, because she met me halfway. "Where were you all day?" I asked. "I thought we were going back to school, to try and pretend everything was normal."

"I know," she said, steering me back towards the couches. "I got all the way to the bus stop by the school, but… I didn't want to see Sophia." She moved to sit down, but I caught her arm. I assumed Coil knew the Wards' identities, but I didn't want him to know I knew, which meant I wanted to be somewhere he didn't control.

"Let's walk while we talk," I told her.

"You just got here—"

"And I want to walk while we have this conversation."

"Even though it's secret?" she asked, stressing the word.

"Because it's secret." Taylor scowled, but grabbed her own jacket without further protest. I headed back down the stairs and out of the dilapidated old building with her at my heels. We turned north and west, heading deeper into the docks and farther from people. The loft was already on the border between the bad part of town and out-and-out urban desolation, and there was no one around as we wandered up towards the old trainyards north of the city.

"Why are we out here, Kasey?" she asked.

"The loft isn't secure," I said simply.

"What do you mean?"

"You know the Undersiders have a boss, right?"

Taylor looked askance at me. "Yeah?"

"He provided the hideout."

"So you don't trust it," she said simply.

Well, that was one way to put it.

She burst into laughter.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing, I just… I was just thinking about the lives of the 'shadow plumbers'—" she made quotes with her fingers, "—who put sinks and stuff in villain lairs."

"Heh," I chuckled. It was a funny image. "Shadow plumbers, shadow electricians… hah, shadow electricians."

"You don't get shadows without light fixtures," she pointed out.

"True. Then it's just dark."

We shared a laugh.

It didn't last. The world around us intruded, and our mirth faded away into a quiet discomfort.

"So…" Taylor said.

"So." I hesitated, and then bit the bullet and dove in. "I went and saw Sophia last night."

"You went to visit her?" she asked. "Why? I know you said we could be friends even if we were on different sides, but why bother visiting? She'd be at school."

"She wasn't at school today—"

"Huh," Taylor grunted.

"—because she's still in the hospital."

"Seriously? Hah." She let out a single chuckle. "Guess she can't take what she dishes out—"

"This isn't funny!" I snapped, stopping and tugging on her arm to get her to face me. "She has brain damage!" I hissed. "Permanent, crippling brain damage. Her career is over!"

Taylor's face did a marathon through confusion, alarm, and shock before setting on horror. "What? How? I didn't…?"

"The pepper spray got into her brain and nervous tissue when she phased back."

"I…" The horror on her face redoubled, then gave way to anger. "That was your idea!" she growled as she stepped forward and jabbed a finger into my chest. I'd been scared of Taylor before, and that had been when she was still a mild-mannered wallflower who walked with a slouch to make herself smaller. This Taylor was almost my height and held herself like a trained fighter; it was significantly worse. "Did you seriously drag me out here to give me a lecture for using the technique you suggested?"

I'd been trying to ignore the fact that it had been my idea; that was probably one of the reasons I was so unwilling to let Sophia just accept that she'd been crippled. I'd been content to just sort of follow along with the way things were 'supposed' to go, but now I'd changed something, completely by accident. Sophia wouldn't end up in jail come May; she had a life sentence of an entirely different sort awaiting her.

"It's not a lecture!" I said defensively. "If I was going to give you a lecture, it would be about the fact that you started kicking her after she fell over!"

Taylor opened her mouth, thought better of it, and backed down. "I… yeah. I kept going. Even after she was down." She turned and resumed our walk, and I had to hurry to keep pace. "I… it was like the representation of all the bullshit, the unfairness I'd had to deal with, was right there in front of me. I kicked her when she was down. I kept spraying her, too. I didn't even really think about there being a person under the costume to feel it. I just wanted to attack, and keep attacking."

"I didn't come out here to lecture you on that," I said. "Really. I might not have mentioned it at all, because I don't blame you for it." And because I'd expected Taylor to react poorly to the news, although not quite as aggressively as she had. "We didn't know that would happen." As far as I'd recalled, Stalker being trapped in an object was extremely painful, but not harmful; I'd expected the spray would simply burn like hell as it passed through her.

Taylor didn't respond, so I continued, "The only reason I brought it up is because she asked me to tell you what we talked about, and I promised her I would."

"Sophia asked?" Taylor asked. "Why would she want me to know she was…"

"Crippled?" She winced. "Because she… she's been rethinking her life. Nearly dying can do that to a person."

"Nearly?" Taylor repeated. "How nearly?"

"She said if Panacea hadn't been there, she would have died before the paramedics could control the swelling in her brain."

Taylor stopped, and after a few steps I did as well, turning back to look at her. "I nearly killed her," she said. "I nearly killed her, and you weren't going to mention this?"

"Would it have helped?" I asked. "I'm not just doing this to rake you over the coals. I almost didn't tell you anyway, but… I'd promised, so… here we are."

"Here we are," Taylor agree. She resumed walking again, face in her Frown of Deep Thought. "Help? Probably not, but I think I deserve to know. Heh. In every sense of the word." I let her think for a while, putting my own thoughts in order. Sophia's request had been… vague wasn't quite the right word. Nebulous? That was closer. She'd said 'what we talked about', which covered quite a bit, but a few points stood out.

"She was upset," I said, "of course, but also… accepting? She was angry, but not at—not at Skitter. At herself, I think." It was a guess, but that seemed right. "And at the same time, she accepted that it had happened. She said…" I tried to remember if Taylor was religious, and remembered that we'd had half a conversation about it, in the distant past of one month ago. "You asked me if I was religious, back in March, remember?"

"Yeah?" Taylor seemed confused by the sudden tangent.

"Sophia asked me the same thing. Her mom is, I guess; she talked about how she'd never bought into any of it. Until now. She said…" I don't think I was any more comfortable with religion than Taylor was, and her assumption that I was religious—justified, based on my own slip of the tongue—would make any conversation about it even more awkward, so I decided to try and sidestep the entire issue. "…well, she put it in different terms, but she seemed to accept that she had it coming. She's taking it as a second chance, a sign she needed to stop and turn over a new leaf. She wanted me to tell you that, and that she was wrong. It was almost an apology."

"That sounds like the brain damage talking," Taylor grumbled, and I laughed. "It's not funny, damn it!"

"It is," I insisted, "because I said the same thing!"

"To her face!?"

"I wasn't thinking! It was just banter. I didn't stop myself in time."

She cringed. "What did she do?"

"She started laughing. Said she 'needed that'. The laugh, I guess."

"Huh," Taylor said. We kept walking, heading deeper into the north slums. "Kasey?"

"Yeah?"

"You… you have all sorts of crazy shit. Pocket dimensions, tinker drugs, crazy hi-tech maps, all sorts of crazy things you just sort of pull out of nowhere." Taylor was walking with her hands in her pockets and her head down, not looking at me as she spoke. I knew where she was going with these questions, because I'd gone there myself. "Can you… do you have some miracle cure up your sleeve? Something that would undo what I did to her?"

I did. Even if I couldn't find something (or someone) I could bring to her, the Warehouse medical pod was fiat guaranteed to cure anything short of True Death. I could knock her out, drop her in there, and she'd be good as new in… I actually had no idea how long it took to work, but it would work. It would also irrevocably tip our hand that someone had some sort of, well, 'miracle cure' was as good a word for it as any. Doing it anonymously would only drive the PRT crazier, because something they don't understand messing with a Ward's brain—even in an unquestionably beneficial fashion—would be Defcon One for obvious reasons.

If I'd stopped and thought about what Panacea had said—no, no 'what if's'. I hadn't. I'd assumed Stalker was merely incapacitated with pain rather than literally seizing from brain damage, and now she'd been examined by (presumably) dozens of doctors, nurses, paramedics, and Panacea herself. Her injuries had likely been studied and documented in detail, so any recovery would be noticed and questioned.

Taylor was still waiting for an answer. "If I did, what would you have me do?" I asked.

"Heal her, obviously!" she said, in disbelief that I'd even ask such a thing.

"I'm a little surprised you'd go out of your way for her, to be honest."

Taylor sighed, eyes on the ground in front of her feet. "I… god knows I used to wish all this and more on the whole lot of them. But… I don't know. I don't think I'd even care, to be honest, if it hadn't been me that did it. I might even have been… satisfied. But I did this, and… and I regret that." She kicked at one of the weeds poking through the cracked sidewalk absentmindedly.

"It wasn't just you. I suggested you use the spray. I blame myself, too." I'd thought that in the privacy of my own head, but saying it out loud stung. "I have a lot of resources, it's true. And more than a few contacts… what about the consequences? Her injuries have been examined in detail, I'm sure; say what you want about the PRT, but they know how important it is that the Wards not get hurt on their watch. If I do anything, even if it only fixes a hundredth of the damage, they'll ask questions."

"So? Let them ask. I'm sure they'll come up with an explanation, even if it's total nonsense."

I had to admit, that was a wonderfully simple solution to the problem. "What about Sophia herself?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… it's weird, but she seemed… not happy, obviously, but… peaceful, maybe? Calm. Resigned, but still stubborn enough to keep going." I chucked. "You know what she said? She said… hold on, let me make sure I'm getting this right. She said that everyone is their own hero—in the story sense, not the cape sense—and that sometimes, the hero only gets better because they get worse."

Taylor nodded. "Sometimes it takes losing something of themselves to make them grow in the long run. It's only once they can't do what they want that they start to do what they need."

"I couldn't have said it better myself. But that's exactly why I asked. If she sees her injury as an opportunity for personal growth, does that affect your decision at all?"

"Why is it my decision?" Taylor asked. "Why is it our decision? You have the wonder cure. Hypothetically." The amount of venom she managed to fit into that one word was impressive.

I averted my eyes, suddenly fascinated by the broken and boarded windows of the buildings we were walking past. "Because I don't know what to do," I said. "I don't know what the right answer is. I'm not a good authority on anything; just someone with more power than I should be trusted with."

She chuckled darkly. "The fact that you realize that makes you a better fit for that power than any hero in the city." We walked another block while she thought. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand that, not really. I've never had power, not in the sense of, of…"

"Agency?" I suggested.

"Yeah, exactly. I can control bugs. That's good for scaring and hurting people, and you've shown me it can be good for scouting and intelligence work, but it's not the kind of thing that commands respect. So when you talk about not being able to trust yourself with power, I just… I don't get it. It's like hearing about someone drowning while I'm dying of thirst."

"That's pretty morbid. Poetic, but morbid." Taylor shrugged helplessly. "I… I guess I can understand where you're coming from. I got to hear a bit of what happened around Glory Girl's fuck-up in the bank, and something that stuck with me was that being able to fix mistakes doesn't mean it's okay to make mistakes, not when lives are on the line." Oh god I was quoting Armsmaster at Taylor, how did it come to this.

"Why not?" she asked. "I mean, obviously there's pain and suffering in the time it takes you to fix your fuck-up, but to play Devil's Advocate, why is it so bad to make mistakes? Nobody's perfect, and trying to be tends to look like not trying at all."

"Yeah, perfectionism does that. And, well, everybody makes mistakes, but you have to treat them like mistakes. Ask what went wrong, how you can do better, and above all try not to make the same mistake twice. If you treat mistakes as something that's just 'okay, no big deal', you'll get sloppier and sloppier until you do something you can't fix."

"Like dropping hundreds of pounds of marble on a hostage you're trying to rescue."

"That is the example de jour, isn't it?" I asked rhetorically.

"So, you're scared that if you undo my… our mistake, here, that we won't learn from it?"

I shook my head. "When it say it like that, it sounds stupid."

"A little, yeah." Taylor sighed. "I think I get it. But we're not the ones suffering from our mistake, are we?" I grimaced; her words brought to mind something Sophia herself had said, what felt like ages ago.

"Lucky you," she snarked. "Normally when I don't think things through, I'm the one who gets hurt."

"I'll see what I can do." I knew we had something, because Max had a lot of crap and brain damage wasn't exactly rare, but I'd need to find it first. Taylor had a point; it was damned selfish to worry about how this would affect us. "If I managed to find something, would we give it to her ourselves?"

"You mean like, from us?" she asked. "How would we explain where we got it?"

"Maybe we bought it with our share of the bank haul."

She laughed. When I didn't, she asked, "Wait, you're serious?" then laughed harder. "No way. Why the fuck would we unmask to her?"

"She unmasked to you, and you said yourself you wouldn't care if you hadn't been the one to injure her."

Taylor's mood soured immediately. "Is that a requirement for your help? That we have to do it like that?"

"Of course not. But I think it's worth thinking about the fact that we want to help her, but aren't willing to come clean on why." I stopped for a moment to take that thought to the logical conclusion. "Maybe that's the key; we have to accept responsibility for our mistakes even if we can fix them later."

Taylor was shaking her head. "You're not just asking me to confess to one thing, though. If I unmask, she gets to link me to everything Skitter does. And that goes for you, too. Do you trust her not to go straight to the Protectorate with our identities?"

That, and her point about linking us to our cape identities for everything, were both valid objections. "You've got a point," I admitted. "Would you do it as Skitter, then?"

She went back to Frowning Thinking Face. "We show up at her hospital room in costume? That's going to cause a mess."

"Yeah." I sighed. "There's not a lot of good options, are there?"

"No," she agreed. "There aren't."

The conversation lapsed for a while; the two of us walking alone, side by side.

"I keep thinking about the money," Taylor said.

I raised an eyebrow at the change of topic. "What about it?"

"Just… the amount. And we're getting more than that." She huffed. "It's a crazy amount for a single day. I don't know if you realize it, but that's enough money to change my life."

Was that a dig at me being rich?

"You know what you want to use it on?" I asked.

Taylor laughed. "No. I don't even know how I'm going to use it—like, the actual process of spending it. I've never had spending money before; I can't suddenly start buying things or someone will notice. A bank gets robbed and a poor kid immediately buys a car? That's going to get attention." She paused, then added, "You probably don't have that problem, right?"

That was definitely a comment on me being rich. "Taylor, do you have a problem with my family being well off?"

"Sorry," she said.

"No, I want to hear it. Clear the air." I took a deep breath and blew it out in a long, drawn-out sigh. "Is this going to be a problem? Because I want to be friends, and if this is an issue, I want to talk about it."

"It's not about you." She made a face. "We're not even 'poor', not really. It's just that I've always been aware of all these things that having money to spare would solve. And now that I finally have a lot of money, I realize that I can't use it, because using it is one of those things that having money to spare would solve. It's like a bad joke."

"Catch-22" I said.

"Yeah. Uh," Taylor paused, then decided to ask, "What's it like?"

"Being rich?" I asked. "I mean… it's weird, for me, because I have money that's just sort of… there? I mean, it's not really my money, or anything, right? But my Mom's paid fantastically well, so we always have nice cars and food and… I don't know. It doesn't even register, a lot of the time. Like, I wouldn't say we were spoiled…" I hesitated. "…but I'm probably wrong. I'm not really an objective observer, am I?

"I guess the point I was going for was that money was never something we worried about. There was never a question about whether we could afford… whatever. We never had to wait to next month to get something fixed. We went on holidays that I only realized years later were fantastically expensive. And growing up in a small, relatively well-off town, I never saw… this." I waved my hand at the veritable slum we were wandering through. "It took me until high school—you know, the age you start watching the news?—to realize just how privileged we've been. It's fucked up." I stuck my hands in my pockets, slouching forward to hide in my jacket. I'd passed homeless people on the street walking up to the loft, while Emily and I were practically megacorp heiresses by virtue of magic reality-warping bullshit.

Was this how I would have felt, before I got here?

How could I be sure?

"Is that why you did the bank job?" Taylor asked, interrupting my musings. "So you'd have money yourself? Something that was yours?"

It really wasn't; I'd been worried about my teammates first and Panacea second, and spending dirty money felt worse than skimming off the 'chain's arguably-well-earned war chest. "Maybe," I said instead. "But what am I going to buy? I don't need it."

Taylor laughed again. "Some villains we are. One too poor to spend the loot, the other too rich."

I scowled; maybe Taylor thought it was funny, but apparently I was the one who had a problem with the rich/poor thing. She must have noticed my mood, because she stopped laughing quickly, and we went back to walking along in silence.

Our route had been a meandering one, but we'd still wandered pretty far into the worse part of the bad part of town by now. The buildings lay abandoned and left to rot, windows not even boarded against the elements. They loomed around us like empty concrete skeletons, several missing parts of their roofs. "We should probably head back," I said.

"Yeah." We didn't retrace our steps, instead taking a slightly more direct route back to the old Redmond Welding building.

"So," I said. "We never really got to talk about, uh, villainy."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you know." I sighed. "How do you feel about the bank? Ignoring the whole… Shadow Stalker thing."

Taylor frowned. "Ignoring that… I don't know. It was… intense?" I gave her more time to think rather than jumping in. "I feel bad about it, but not as much as I should. I feel worse about not feeling bad. Does that make sense?"

"I know the feeling. The thing I feel worst about is that I enjoyed it."

"What part?"

"All of it. The showmanship. The fighting. Especially the fighting." I fidgeted with one of my bangles through the sleeve of my jacket. "I don't mean, 'I feel kinda bad for letting myself have fun.' I mean I felt awesome. It was like… my power is such a good defense, I felt invincible. On top of the world."

"Like it was a game?" she asked.

"Yeah, I guess."

Exactly like a game. Just a string of contests I wanted to win, without worrying about what happened to the other person. Kid Win had gotten off lightly, silly memes aside; I'd broken Glory Girl's wrist, and Aegis hadn't had arm bones left after he struggled out of the hole I'd planted him it.

"That's how I felt, too," Taylor said. "Using my bugs like you said, to create a map, I was the only person out there who could see everything going on. Even Grue doesn't have eyes in the back of his head, but I saw everything. I could just stroll right through the chaos, and no one could do anything to me. I felt… untouchable." She turned her head to look directly at me. "I said, earlier, that I didn't understand why Emma does anything she does."

"Yeah?"

"I think I get it, now."

"Oh."

"Like," Taylor said, "I had to threaten the hostages." She sighed again.

"Yeah?" I prompted.

"People were crying, cowering. Away from me. It felt horrible… but they were listening. I was actually in control for once. And even though it felt horrible… it also felt good." She bowed her head, staring at the ground in front of her feet.

"I think I'd do it again," she muttered.

I hated to admit it, but so would I. I was ashamed of what I'd done, and willing—maybe even eager—to do it again.

What was it I'd told Sophia? That there were people who exploited the weak and people who helped them? I'd always wanted to believe that I was the latter.

But there was a saying that power, not hardship, is the true test of character. A test I seemed to have failed.

"As soon as I was in the moment, I just stopped worrying about what I was doing to people," I admitted, once the silence had stretched longer than was comfortable. "It's like as soon as we rolled up to the bank, I stopped caring. About people, bystanders, right and wrong."

Taylor looked up at me. "Because you started having fun?"

"Maybe—actually, no, other way around. I only really got into it once I'd ditched my conscience."

She raised an eyebrow. "That's an interesting way to phrase it."

"That's what it seems like, in hindsight. Like I just left my morality at the door."

And now is a really terrible time to find it again.

"You were really gung-ho about being a villain before," Taylor said. She turned her head away from me, staring at out the decaying buildings around us. "What changed?"

"Actually doing it." I swallowed. "I mean… Sophia, obviously. But even ignoring that, I guess I'd been pretending that it wasn't…"

"Evil?"

"That's harsh," I said with a frown, "but… accurate, I guess. I was pretending it wasn't evil. You know, ignoring the harm, the consequences. Treating it like a game, like you said." I paused for thought, and added, "When I was daydreaming of villainy, I never stopped and imagined the people who'd be hurt. I just sort of… forgot they were real."

Taylor nodded glumly. "I just wanted to lash out. I didn't really care why or how. I just wanted to attack something about the… the system. The bullshit that let her do that to me for months. I wasn't thinking about the people, either."

The next block passed in silence. We turned the corner, revealing the battered old brick building across the street, waiting for us. Welcoming, despite the facade that let us blend into the urban decay.

"You were right about one thing," Taylor said as we looked up at the building. "I like the team.

"I don't want to leave."

———X==X==X———​
 
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Chapter 20: Deposit
Chapter 20: Deposit


Brian arrived at the loft about an hour before sunset to find Taylor watching Alec and I tear through some mind-numbing beat-em-up game in coop mode. I didn't notice he'd come in until we cleared the current stage and I glanced up to find him standing next to Taylor. "Uh, hi?"

"Hi," he said. "Is this a bad time to remind you that we have work to do?"

"Yes," Alec said.

"No," I said, putting the controller down. "I was just killing time." Turning my brain off. "Where is everyone?" In the original timeline, Bitch had been ambushed by Uber, Leet, and Bakuda, who'd then set a trap for the rest of the Undersiders. Was Bakuda's death enough to derail that entirely, or would we still have to fight the lamest pair of villains in the Bay? Hopefully Emily's 'overwatch' would avert that particular mess. And if not, at least I'd get some guilt-free violence out of the deal.

"Lisa's on her way. I don't know where Rachel is—I'll call her if she's not back in the next twenty minutes." He sighed and rubbed a hand over his cornrows. "I always worry when she's out. Having your identity out is a huge liability, and she's nowhere near subtle enough to deal with it."

"She's done well enough thus far, right?" I asked, reassuring myself as much as the others. "Taylor, why don't you get changed first, then I can borrow your room?"

"Sure. I'll be right back." Taylor headed off to change. Brian grabbed a box from one of the shelves and headed into the bathroom, while Alec headed off to his own room. I shut the game and television off, since he hadn't bothered, then pulled my costume out of the old-fashioned camera roll canister I'd stuffed it in and made sure it hadn't picked up any higher-dimensional wrinkles. I really needed a spare costume; carrying my entire Flux get-up on my person was a risk I could do without.

Grue emerged first, stopping to retrieve his skull-shaped helmet from its place on a mannequin head he'd fixed to a shelf as a makeshift armor stand. "I really need to upgrade my costume," he said as he looked over the helmet for damage. "Where did you guys get yours? They're really well-done."

"Well, I'm… let's call me 'independently wealthy'. And a bit of a weirdo. My stuff's all custom; that's why I only have one. I really need another; I hate having to carry it between here and home." The item entry had promised that I would 'know how to make more', and I did, but that just meant I knew the steps I had to take to create a custom suit of quasi-Tinker-fabric armor from scratch. If the Warehouse didn't have some sort of bullshit material printer, it was going to be a weeks-long project.

"You could just leave it here. You don't go caping without us, right?"

"I could, but… it doesn't feel right." For some reason, I didn't feel comfortable leaving my suit lying around the loft. Maybe it was the fact that the Warehouse continued to reject my 'claim' here. "Sorry, I don't mean I don't like it here, it's just…"

"I understand. Costumes can be like a part of you. You made this yourself?" Grue picked up the bodysuit and pinched the material between his gloved fingers, then rapped on the armor panels. "How long did this take you to make?"

"Don't ask." Because it popped into existence according to the rules of a strange, extra-dimensional game-show. "If you're thinking of asking for one, I'm afraid the answer will disappoint you." My answer might change once I learned exactly how hard it would be to reproduce, but for now, there was no point offering.

"I'm done," Skitter announced as she stepped out of her room. She still had her mask off, which I appreciated from a purely 'not a creepy humanoid bug' perspective. I retrieved my bodysuit from Brian, grabbed my boots, and headed off into Skitter's room. There was a single, massive cockroach on the wall opposite the door—probably just to annoy me—which I studiously ignored as I stripped down to my underwear and pulled on the padded underlayer, then added the bodysuit, boots, gloves, jacket, and mask. I kept the goggles off, for now.

"Three thousand," Skitter said as I emerged from her room.

"Three thousand?" Grue asked. "No discount for a teammate?"

"That is the discount. It's probably worth twice that."

"Fuck." He held her mask up to the light, giving it much the same treatment he'd given my suit earlier. "I can't even say you're wrong. That's not going to leave me anything to customize it, though."

"Oh, that's with customization. Dye, detailing," she took the mask back and pointed to the mandibles along the jaw. "If you just want an undersuit, I could probably go down to two."

"Costuming?" I asked as I walked up behind them. Grue jumped at my question, while Skitter didn't even turn around.

"Yeah," he said. "The detailing is that much?"

Skitter nodded. "Even if I just change how the threads are weaved for one bit, create contrast at the seam where the weave changes direction, I have to be paying a lot more attention to what I'm doing." She pointed to the mandibles again. "Of course, I also make sections thicker to really emphasize them, but that's too wasteful to do for anything but the most important bits, like the mask."

In the time it took for Grue to think the offer over, Regent emerged from his room, holding his mask, scepter, and coronet. "What are we all looking at?"

"Grue wants a new costume," I said. "I think they're haggling right now."

"Haggling over what?"

"The costume," Skitter said, the 'obviously' going unspoken.

"Bro, you know that's not going to fit you, right?" Regent asked, plucking the mask from Grue's hands and inspecting it himself.

"Very funny," Grue grumbled. "Did you know she made her suit herself?"

"Wait, she stitched that together herself?"

"I wove it myself," Skitter said. "It's spider silk reinforced with insect chitin."

"No shit?" Regent squinted at the mask, then tossed it back to her. "Is it wrong that I find you a lot creepier now that I know that?"

"Yes," they said, at the same time I said, "No." Skitter elbowed me.

"Tattletale's on her way?" I asked.

"She's—"

"Arriving," Lisa said, cutting Grue off as she emerged from the stairs into the loft. "Everything's looking good for us, by the way."

He smiled. "Great. Suit up; the sooner we do this the better."

"Hold your horses. I just got back." Lisa pulled off her jacket and tossed it onto the back of the couch, then wandered into the kitchen and returned with a can of Diet Coke.

"Rachel?" I asked again.

Grue looked at the clock on the wall. "I was going to give her five more minutes, but since the rest of us are already here…" He pulled a burner phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed. I held my breath as he waiting for Rachel to answer. "Hello? Yeah, we're almost ready. What, why? Just get over here. No. Yes. Great." He ended the call and pocketed the phone. "She'll be here in ten."

"Great." That was good. With luck, we'd avoided that entire encounter.

Lisa turned to me. "Flux, how paranoid are you feeling today?"

"Uh, two?" My 'predictions' about the bank job must have attracted her suspicion.

"Two what? Two problems? Two out of ten?"

"Out of ten." Although if Uber and Leet did show up, that would be two problems. Is that how prophecies work? Classic numerology: pick a number, notice every time it comes up, then claim that proves something. I probably would have said 'ten' if Rachel hadn't picked up her phone, which would have been harder to work with.

Lisa got changed while the rest of us sat around in tense silence for the remaining nine minutes it took Rachel to show up with one of her dogs—I still didn't know which was which, other than that Angelica was the one with a missing eye, and this wasn't her. She had a bag of some sort of jerky in hand, and was gnawing on a strip sticking out the side of her mouth. I grinned at her, and she growled back as she passed me on the way to her room. Whoops. Don't show your teeth, dumbass. "Good to see you too, Tae-chan," I muttered at her back.

Bitch didn't take long; her 'costume change' consisted of grabbing her mask and the other two dogs. As one, we slipped our various head-pieces on; it would have made quite the moment on TV, I'm sure. 'Avengers, assemble!' and all that. No, on second thought, Mal's 'Let's be bad guys,' was far more appropriate; I was definitely going to reference that at some point. Wait, he'd been about to break into a bank vault when he'd said that! I'd missed my perfect opportunity! Tattletale shot me a look as I glowered at nothing on the way out of the building.

The sky was a brilliant orange, the clouds from yesterday's rain reflecting the ruddy light of the setting sun down onto the city as we left the building. "We're changing riding partners." Grue announced as he lead the way down the empty street. Rachel's dogs were off their leashes, quickly increasing in size as we put a good, deniable distance between ourselves and the Redmond building. "We can't always do the same partners, so we need to practice riding with other people. We'll do—"

"You and Skitter," Tattletale interrupted him. "Bitch and Regent. Flux and I. Bitch should choose the dogs." I raised an eyebrow behind my goggles; I didn't doubt for a second that Tattletale had ulterior motives for those assignments, but I wasn't sure what they were.

"You two: Brutus. You two: Judas." Bitch pointed to the dogs as she named them, which was a great help, since they were even less recognizable after she'd powered them up. She and Regent got on Angelica, and Tattletale and I ended up on Brutus. I think Tattletale tried to ask me questions while we rode, but I was far to busy trying not to be sick to pay any attention to her.

The storage locker place we'd chosen was a maze, which was probably half the reason it made such a good hiding spot. I would have thought that as long as we knew the locker number, we could just head straight to the right one, but for some ungodly reason the numbering followed no rhyme or reason whatsoever. If Bitch hadn't been the one to stash the money, we probably would have had problems finding the right locker, but she'd led us right to it without showing any uncertainty at all. I wondered if her dogs were able to recognize the place by smell.

Grue fiddled with the lock for a moment, then hauled the door open to reveal a large space, a single broken bulb, and the bags full of money. I sat and stared, relieved to see it still there, until he reminded me to do my damn job. "You're going to load that up for us, right, Flux?"

"Oh, right, sorry. Actually… I know we can strap all this stuff on the dogs, but I have an easier idea." I pulled out the film tube I'd stored my costume in and started stuffing the bags in one after the other, until the locker was empty again. I popped the cap back on and spun around to present it to the group, who were standing in the open locker door staring at me. "Ta-da!"

Every single one of them facepalmed—except Bitch, who just kept glaring. "You better be able to get it all back," she said.

"It's all in there," Tattletale assured her. "Just… small?"

"Pretty much." It involved altering the way the atoms interacted with each other, writing off the staple physical rule that two objects couldn't be in the same place by exploiting—nevermind, it didn't matter. The important part was that it was safe, entirely reversible, and wouldn't wear off as long as it was in my pocket.

"Why didn't you do that at the bank?" Regent asked.

"It wouldn't have saved any time, and I'd have to ride all the way to the end to unpack it again or it would spill everywhere." I shrugged. "Besides, Tats seemed really proud of the harnesses."

"Uh, right." Grue's spooky cape voice sounded really funny when he was awkward or uncertain. He stepped back and motioned me out of the locker. "Let's just hop back on the dogs, then."

"Can I… not?" The trip up here had been more dog-riding then I ever wanted to do again. "I can fly, sorta… tell me where the drop is and I'll meet you there." I'd probably beat them there, but it wasn't a race.

"No," Bitch said, moving to the side slightly to block the space Grue had opened.

"I have to agree," Grue rumbled. "I can't let you fly off with the entire haul."

That was the problem? I tossed Grue the canister, which he caught frantically, like he was worried it would explosively decompress if he dropped it. "Problem solved?"

"Is this…" he held the tube at arms length, clearly distrustful of my weird power hijinks, "…safe? Tats?"

"I don't know. My ability to read her is suspect at the best of times." Tattletale scowled, then grabbed the tube and tossed it back to me. "How about this: Flux carries the tube, and I go with her. I was trying to have a conversation with her, anyway." Yeah, yeah, cry me a river. I was trying not to vomit.

"No," Bitch said again. "I don't trust her either."

Tattletale folded her arms as she kicked back against the door frame. "Look, the way the math works out, if we were to run off with the cash and split it between the two of us, we'd make less money than if we delivered it to the boss with you guys."

"I don't trust her math, either," Bitch said.

"I still don't like it," Grue said. "Not because I don't trust you two," he said hurriedly, before Tattletale could protest, "but because flying is bad for villains. Do you really think the Protectorate doesn't have a radar dish pointed over the city looking for this kind of thing?"

Tattletale rolled her eyes vigorously enough to move her entire head, then began ticking off points on her fingers. "Okay, first, you're now out-paranoia-ing Flux, which is all kinds of worrying." Hey! "Second, even if they did—and they might, I'll grant you that much—they'd have to eliminate every independent actor in the city before they could narrow it down to being a villain in the first place—and that's assuming it can reliably tell a cape apart from a flock of seagulls. Third, there are other, better-known flying villains in the city, so suspicion would fall on them first. Forth, we are more visible on the dogs to any such hypothetical system—"

"Fine, fine!" Grue said, throwing up his hands and stalking back to the dogs. "I get the point. You steer Flux to the drop-off point and we'll meet you there." Bitch growled something under her breath before following him, with Skitter and Regent filing after them without protest.

I walked over to Tattletale and offered her my arm. "Fair warning: just because I like this better doesn't mean it's going to be more pleasant for you." Skitter had not liked the experience one bit, although apparently her car ride had been worse.

"I've got a pretty strong stomach for motion," she said as she slipped her arm in mine. "Just like this?"

"Yeah. We're heading towards Downtown, right?"

"Sort of. The meet's at the North Ferry Terminal."

"Great, easy to spot from the air. Here we go!" I twisted our gravity 180 degrees, then back ninety to send us out over the city. Aside from a single squeak as we took off, Tattletale handled the ride pretty well, barely stumbling when I set us down several blocks from our objective. In the opposite direction, just on the off chance Coil might have set up watchers on the obvious approach. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Whoooo!" She actually whooped and threw up her arms. "Disorienting as hell when you change directions, but what a rush! It's like skydiving sideways! We are definitely doing this again."

"Sure, no problem." My 'flight' wasn't quite what I'd dreamed of, but seeing someone else enjoy gave me one hell of a warm feeling: the outside view made me appreciate what I had. I gave Tattletale a minute to get over her excitement, then headed off towards the ferry terminal. I was used to roof-hopping, so just walking down a sidewalk in full costume felt really weird; like police or heroes should be waiting to jump out at us from around any corner. "You wanted to talk?"

"Yeah." If Tattletale found anything weird about wandering around in our proverbial Sunday best, she didn't show it. "I was wondering about your… resources. You offered to forfeit your share of the rewards. You're wealthy—I looked you up—but you're not that wealthy, not enough to turn down that sort of income on a whim. Certainly not as a kid, not unless your mom handed you her credit card. Unless you have something else that's not on the books.

"But that's just the start. Your costume is seriously high quality; that's not beginner's gear, and it's custom. One of a kind, I'd bet, which means you either had the personal connection—or the money to buy that connection—before you even got to the bargaining table, and you wouldn't get those through your family's wealth unless they're in on it. And my power tells me they're not." She grinned like she'd skewered me, but I wasn't feeling it.

"Are you going to ask a question, or just lecture me about myself?" I joked.

Tattletale rolled her eyes. "Fine, be coy." She paused and licked her lips nervously before she asked-slash-said, "You have friends with some serious pull."

No point lying about that. "Yeah."

"That's where you got your costume. You've been going to them to get those vials."

Vials brought entirely the wrong thing to mind, but she couldn't know that. "Yeah."

"Whoever they are, your relationship lets you give that stuff away for free. The first bottle made a good impression, but you were already on the team when you gave me the last two. There was nothing in it for you."

"Except a functioning Thinker," I pointed out. She wasn't convinced. "Fine. After I saw how badly you were suffering yesterday, I felt bad that you were in pain. Alec got sucker punched by Glory Girl and even he was able to enjoy the party. I wish I'd gotten them to you soon enough to help."

"You did," she assured me. "I hide it, but bad headaches don't fade overnight. I still had a nasty one this morning; been crushing it with O-T-C meds all day. Bolted one of your shots the moment I'd gotten out of sight, and it felt wonderful." She'd hidden it well, then; I'd thought she'd been back to a hundred percent when I'd run into her earlier. "You're a lifesaver, seriously. Which is why this is all so weird." I raised an eyebrow. "I mean, look at it from my perspective. You've got some really powerful, mysterious contacts up your sleeve that I can't make heads nor tails of, but you don't even try to deny it."

"Why bother?" It wasn't like she was getting at the really sensitive stuff, and as far as I was aware that was all fiat-protected anyway.

Tattletale took a moment to search my face for any sign of what I was actually hiding, but came up blank. "In that case, why sign up on another team, for a shadowy backer who, as far as I can tell, has significantly fewer resources on offer than whoever you already have access to?"

That made a pretty good segue into what I'd wanted to talk to her about earlier. "Are we alone? Unobserved, I mean?"

Tattletale took a long look around. The North Terminal was pretty close to the boardwalk, so the area around it was in pretty good shape compared to the Docks. The buildings were being maintained, although they weren't pristine by any stretch, and the streets and sidewalks had been seen to enough that the pot-holes were shallow and the cracks mere blemishes. "Yeah," she said. "The boss isn't too worried about us conspiring against him in the middle of a job."

"Just in the loft?" I asked. She turned her head towards me like she was about to say something, then reconsidered and went back to looking forward. She nodded, mouth twisted in distaste. "So, the elephant in the room. What I wanted to talk about earlier, actually. Coil." She nodded again. I'd decided she deserved to make the choice, so I asked her straight out, "Do you want him dead as soon as possible, or after you have enough hooks in his organization to take over?"

Tattletale stumbled, nearly faceplanting on the flat, even concrete. The look she gave me once she'd recovered was one of pure incredulity. "I knew your St. Patrick's Day thing was an offer of help, but… just like that?"

"I could have him dead by sundown tomorrow, if I needed to." I watched her carefully, trying to figure out what she was thinking. Mostly, it seemed like she was trying to decide if my confidence was justified, or insane.

"Flux… can you turn whatever bullshit anti-thinker thing you have off? Like, all the way off, just for this conversation?" I almost said no, because I was used to having that barrier up, but given the position I was putting Tattletale in right now, I relented and turned the dial to 'Off'. "Okay," she said. "Now start over."

"Coil," I repeated. "Do you want him dead as soon as possible, or only once you're ready to take over? Do you want to be a part of it, or just have him disappear?"

"If I said 'disappear, as soon as possible', how soon would that be?"

"Well, I was serious about 'sundown tomorrow'. I'm tempted to wait for the money from this job to clear, but it doesn't really matter." I pulled the tube out of my jacket and fiddled with it as I spoke. "Even if you're not gonna step in and replace him, I'd probably be able to keep the team afloat. Assuming there's still a team without you." I wasn't sure how well the Undersiders could survive without their best operational asset. We'd probably struggle on, but the undefeated streak wouldn't last.

"Without—no, nevermind." She sounded exasperated. "You sound confident I could just take over his identity."

"I mean, you probably could, since no one knows anything about him. I meant more that you could take over his organization. His men follow his money; seize his accounts and they're your men, now. You could keep the team running. Hell, you could run it however you want. Mercenaries, independent heroes, whatever."

"So could you," she pointed out. "Why haven't you offed him already?"

"To be honest, one of the reasons I haven't is because I thought you might want to be the one to pull the trigger."

"Seriously?" Tattletale boggled at me. "That's what's stopping you?"

"…yes?"

"Wow. I… I don't know what to say to that." She shook her head. "You are fucking crazy, you know that?"

"Yeah."

We walked in silence for a moment before she said, "Just like that. I say 'Yes, please,' and he's dead."

"Just like that."

"Damn." She didn't seem to know what else to say to that, and neither of us spoke for a few moments.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked.

"A lot of things. Starting with how much I actually want to know." Tattletale glanced at me for a moment before returning her gaze to the street ahead. "You seem awfully sure I'm going to leave."

"Aren't you?" I'd remembered to check the Journal profiles, and they hadn't indicated much of a connection between the four Undersiders beyond their professional relationship. Granted, they were still incomplete, but usually the last bits were just details and the actual meters for various relationships and moods.

She didn't answer.

We continued in silence until we'd almost reached the ferry terminal. "See the van?" she asked suddenly. I followed her gaze to a battered old black van with tinted windows lingering in the most remote corner of the terminal parking lot, under a fitfully flickering light. "It's beat up enough to be mistaken for an abandoned vehicle, but the rubber on the tires is new."

"Trouble?" I asked.

"Nah, that's our contact. Sloppy, though. We'll wait here." She ducked into the gap between the buildings across the street and kicked back against one wall of the narrow alley. I took the other, trying to control my fidgeting.

"If you were just offering to kill Coil," Tattletale said, picking up the conversation without warning, "I would have said yes without hesitation. As it is, I don't think I'd leave."

That was interesting. I wondered if she'd connected enough with her teammates that she'd want to stay close, or if there were other reasons. Like, for example… "Are you just sticking around to bum drugs off me?"

"No! Well, not only for that." I laughed at her correction, and after a moment she joined in. "I have grown fond of the team," she said, "at least enough to stay in touch. But it's mostly that you're offering me the keys to the kingdom."

As encouraging as that was, I wasn't willing to consider her converted. "I sense a 'but' coming."

"Yeah. The flip side is that being a leader means I'm locked in. Less freedom than just heading into the sunset, in a lot of ways."

"If you need some time to think about it…"

"I want it," she said. "I don't need to think about that. The thing holding me back is that it's not a coup anymore. It's a gift."

I guess on some level she does want to do it herself.

She clicked her tongue. "It's not about earning it. It's the fact that gifts leave debts. If you can just remove Coil on a whim, you can do it to me, if I ever go against you. I want it, I'm just trying to figure out if it's worth the sword of Damocles."

"Is… you betraying me a likely problem?"

"I don't know! I don't know you, and you sure as hell don't know me, not half as well as you think. For starters, you haven't once wondered if I'm manipulating you."

I hadn't. "Are you?"

"Always," she said, turning away to look out at the street. "It's not even a malicious thing, I just know people too well. I can't have a normal, fair, non-manipulative conversation when I have all this extra information about them. Yeah, even you. I don't get any of your real secrets, but I know a thousand little things to do and not do to make you more comfortable, topics to mention or avoid, ways to phrase arguments. And it's not something I can't do, because any conscious decision I make is going to be manipulation one way or the other."

I stopped. That is… uncomfortably relevant. How much of the way I'd presented myself to Taylor, Emma, and Sophia had been that sort of manipulation? A lot of it, especially to the latter two; hell, that had been premeditated. I'd called it theatre. Tattletale apparently called it manipulation. And it was.

She laughed. "I guess you never really thought about it like that, did you? You're not a thinker, but you haven't exactly been the best at hiding how much you know. Taylor just takes it in stride because you're crazy."

That was the second time she'd said that, and I wasn't going to deny it. "I am, aren't I?"

"Yeah. I thought it was just your stupid anti-thinker crap, but even without it, you're hard to read." She clicked her tongue. "You don't make sense. You react based on information you don't have. Your priorities are weird. You're weird. Seriously, it's a little freaky." She took a breath and let it out in a huff. "Did you know sometimes my power reads you as a total sociopath?"

"What?"

"Relax," she said. I didn't. "Sometimes, I said. It's rare, but occasionally your reactions to things are… off, compared to normal people. I can't describe it any better than that." Tattletale grumbled something under her breath. "Bleh. That's the kind of thing I should avoid mentioning."

"Are there a lot of those?" I asked tersely.

Tattletale nodded.

"Like Shadow Stalker?"

She nodded again. "The moment Panacea said she wasn't getting back up, I knew it was bad. Aerosol irritant delivered through her head… it wasn't hard to connect the dots."

"What happened there?" I asked. "Shouldn't her power have protected her from that?"

"It prevents her from phasing back into something and killing herself. She must have some way to deal with pollutants and crap, since city air isn't exactly clean, but there must be a threshold or something before it just can't get rid of them fast enough. Let's see… Stalker was solid when Skitter sprayed her, and phased out to avoid it, but that didn't stop the crap that was already in her face from burning like hell. She was flailing, rather than thinking, so she phased back, and that made it much, much worse, because now she'd absorbed some of that stuff right into her eyes and brain. The swelling from that caused the seizure, and every time she flickered, more and more of the pepper spray got into her head. You really weren't kidding about the vulnerability."

I closed my eyes and took a moment to breathe. What a clusterfuck. I really hadn't needed the reminder that it had been my idea, either. I should have… what? Checked? Taken her out myself and avoided the Skitter/Stalker match entirely?

Not robbed a bank?

I'd wanted to play villain. Newsflash, Kasey: villains hurt people.

Worst of all, I'd felt good about it. I'd been riding high on victory the whole day, blissfully ignorant of the consequences.

When I opened my eyes again, I found Tattletale watching me intensely. "I didn't say anything because it didn't matter," she said, not quite guessing my thoughts correctly. "What were we going to do? I let Penny do her thing and focused on the job, same as you." She met my eyes a moment longer before turning back towards the bay. "You're angry."

I shook my head. "I'm not angry. Upset, certainly, but I get it. Telling us then would only have made things worse, and afterwards…" I'd been reluctant to tell Skitter the news, as well. I really didn't have any place throwing stones here.

"What if next time, you don't agree with me?" she asked. "If you feel played, or betrayed, or used? What then?"

"Then we'd have a problem," I said. "But you seem to have missed something."

"Yeah?"

"I like you. All you guys. If you… 'go against me'… I may not like it, I may even do something about it, but I'm going to talk to you about it long before I resort to violence. Holding you accountable doesn't mean having a gun to your head, for chrissake."

"And Coil?" she asked.

"An unrepentantly sadistic narcissist obsessed with controlling people. A quick death is better than he deserves."

Tattletale looked back towards me, eyebrow raised. "Irredeemable?"

"I mean, if he had the barest excuse for anything he did, I might want to try." That was an understatement; I felt worse about Bonesaw's death. "He enjoys power for its own sake, and exercising that power through… disgusting means."

She stared at me for a moment, then looked back towards the ferry terminal. "A week or two, then. Depending on how much help you can provide, and how carefully I need to move."

"Right."

I kicked at the rough asphalt surface of the alleyway with the toe of my boot.

"It's been a long time since I had someone in my corner," Tattletale said. "This team was never my idea, obviously, and I never had any illusions about where their loyalties would lie, if it came down to it." She glanced at me out of the corner of her eyes, still facing out the mouth of the alley. "So, uh, thanks."

I was tempted to make a joke about her manipulating me, but I held back.

It wouldn't be a joke.

Then again, I didn't have any right to throw stones there, either, so I just said, "You're welcome."

"I'm not used to interacting with people who aren't looking to take advantage of me, is what I'm saying," she continued. "I can't just stop manipulating you, because that's not how that works, but I can promise you I'm not out to use you." She chuckled. "You're a good enough friend that I won't need to, because you'll be there if I ask anyway."

"Count on it."

"I am. Oh, the rest of the team is almost here." Tattletale pulled a compact mirror out of a pocket and checked her hair. She chuckled at my raised eyebrow. "Sorry, nervous habit; sometimes I pick up leaves and crap."

"In the middle of the city?" Brockton Bay was not what I would consider a 'natural vista' sort of place.

"We're not always in the middle of the city, smart-ass." She finished fussing and pocketed the mirror. "Here they come." I set the Obfuscation power back to around eighty percent and turned to watch the show.

I'd only seen the dogs enter a scene once before, and I'd been justifiably focused on Lung at the time. They made a hell of an entrance, dropping out of the sky one after the other into the street. Despite shaking the ground with the impact, the actual landing was surprisingly quiet—meaning it wasn't 'explosion' loud. It was not stealthy.

Tattletale and I stepped out into the relative light of the nearly-full moon, waving to the others as we all headed towards the van. It was a sliding side-door model rather than the rear-door model we'd borrowed for the bank job, and the door opened as we approached to reveal a small, weedy-looking man wearing dark sunglasses. I had to assume he didn't drive with them on; the flickering streetlight overhead was likely the only reason he could see us at all. Even normals want their masks, I guess. "Where's the stuff?" he asked. I pulled the tube back out of my pocket and dumped the contents onto the ground in front of us, to his visible dismay. "You couldn't have just done that in the van?"

I would have offered to help him load up, but Grue spoke first. "Our job was delivery. It's your problem now." I took the cue to step back, flanking him with the rest of the Undersiders like a good lackey.

"Figures," the man grumbled, not trying to hide his annoyance. He walked over, tried to lift one of the bags with one hand, and failed. The man stood back up and frowned at Grue. "Look, this stuff isn't 'delivered' until it's loaded, so you might as well help, because you aren't going anywhere until I'm done." He bent back down and, with some effort, managed to get the bag off the ground and start lugging it back to the van.

"Flux." At Grue's prompting, I scooped up three of the bags and loaded them into the van like they were full of packing peanuts. Coil's man earned my respect by continuing to huff and puff single bags even as I rendered him entirely redundant; he even looked moderately thankful when I grabbed the last bag out of his hands. "We counted it, so don't go dipping your hand in," Grue warned him as he slid the door shut. I suspected he was bluffing.

The guy wasn't impressed. "I get paid well enough, thank you," he said calmly, before opening the passenger door and climbing over into the driver's seat. The engine turned over, and the van pulled out of the parking lot slowly, only turning its lights on once it was out on the road. We watched it go in silence until it took a corner and disappeared from sight.

"So that's it? Everything went okay?" Skitter asked. Grue looked at Tattletale.

"Copacetic," she said happily. We all relaxed slightly at her word. "You guys mind if I ride with Flux again?"

"Not done with your chat?" Regent asked.

"Nah, I just like flying. No offense, Bitch."

Bitch wasn't bothered one bit. "I don't like you guys anyway."

———X==X==X———​
 
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Chapter 21: Errands
Chapter 21: Errands


I woke up to the smell of pancakes again on Saturday. Emily had decided the best way to kick off our new 'sisterhood' was a callback to our first day on Bet, and I had no complaints. We spent the rest of the morning just kicking back and chatting. I talked about my life growing up on Mostly Normal Earth; she described her experiences in the settings I was familiar with.

"Is it wrong that I'm kinda sad that I missed the Warframe jump?" I asked as she finished showing off her collection of Prime handguns to a suitably appreciative audience. (Me. The audience was me. God, they were shiny.)

We were sitting on the couches in the family room, Emily's absurd firearm collection spread out over the coffee table. She began stuffing the guns back into hammerspace as she spoke. "Yes," she said, spearing my rhetorical question like a grape. "It's a dark, depressing place."

"I mean, I know that. I guess I just… I dunno. It's the same thing I feel about Dark Souls. I have enough enthusiasm for the setting that I'd have at least wanted to see it in person, once."

"I can understand the tourism aspect," she admitted. "It's a horrible place to live, though."

"Most interesting places are. This certainly is. Hell, every nerd who's ever wanted to be a Jedi oughta be reminded that Star Wars has a galaxy-spanning war every generation or two. It's basically World War II on a regular schedule." I paused while she slid the last gun home. "The loot was pretty good, though, right?" Emily rolled her eyes, which I thought was pretty hypocritical given that we'd both just spent half an hour admiring that loot. "Did you get to take any Warframes with you?"

"Yeah. Max and the others in GUARD have been using them as proxies in Europe and Asia, since no one's likely to connect the dots between 'American Cape Team' and 'Freaky European Biomechs'. I don't like using mine, though. Transference doesn't interact well with my…" she hesitated, eyes darting to the ring on her finger. "State."

That was awkward, so I quickly changed the topic, and the conversation wandered on from there. We talked about happier places and more pleasant memories, until we eventually arrived at the current jump.

"So how's high school?"

"I want to get my GED," I said. Emily laughed. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure it's hilarious, miss skipped-a-year."

"Let me enjoy my schadenfreude," she said. "Okay, I'm done. Do you care about actually taking the test, or should I just bribe the proctor to pass you?"

The question caught me off guard. "That's an option?"

"They're teachers, they're extremely affordable to bribe." Ouch. "The obvious way to do it is by cheating with a gifted power or something, but we might as well cut out the middleman."

"Or cut in the middleman."

"Or that. I'll get you in soon: next week should be doable." The conversation lapsed for a moment, before Emily said, "So I saw you stuffed Dinah in the Warehouse."

"That wasn't my idea!" I protested. "I asked Zero if she could help, and she told me she'd take care of it. Now, I fully admit I should have asked how she planned to take care of it, but I had other things to worry about!"

"Oh, it's not a problem. Just make sure you remember to let her out before we leave, or we'll have another stowaway on our hands."

"Ace said something about that, earlier," I said, trying to remember the conversation. "He mentioned Maeve and Darkness, I think."

"Darkness doesn't really count; she invited herself along, but at least she asked." Emily tapped her fingers on the arm of the couch as she thought. "Jennifer's another borderline case; Max could have kicked her out, but didn't. Garrus was an accidental pickup; he took a bullet to the head and needed Warehouse-grade medical care, but Max tripped the Scenario End flag before he was up and walking again, and Management decided to fuck with us rather than being polite and letting us discharge him before the transfer. I think Max is happy he's along all the same, but it wasn't exactly a conventional recruitment. Who else… Kara got into the Warehouse somehow—Management denies knowledge of how, which I don't believe simply because they should be really, really worried if they actually don't know—and refused to leave until Max 'fixed things'. Max called her bluff, and now she's stuck with us."

Emily was rattling off names faster than I could keep track, and I had to resort to counting on my fingers. "That's… five different people? Across how many jumps?"

"Sixty or seventy, I think?" Emily shrugged. "I've been here for fifty six, though I didn't insert in all of them."

"You got in early, then."

"I suppose I did. I…" She paused, then sighed. "I try not to resent it, because it's not something any of us could control, and Management's goals are… alien… but I can't help but think things would have gone better if she'd come to Earth—my Earth—with a bit more firepower."

"Yeah," I said lamely. I was tempted to ask more about exactly how that had gone, but I doubted she wanted to talk about it, so instead, I asked, "How many times have you inserted?"

"Forty four," she said without hesitation.

"Then if Max visited you around jump ten, you're probably about four times as strong as she was then, right? Maybe five times, if you were really early."

Emily shrugged. "It's hard to judge. The slot restrictions are supposed to slow things down and level the playing field, I think, but they just reward seniority even harder in the long run. It's frustrating; we only get about half as much 'space' as we get new things. It's like a treadmill; I almost look forward to jumps with no good perks on offer, because I get a chance to catch up to all the powers I have sitting around waiting to be slotted."

That was actually kind of insidious, when she described it like that; it reminded me a bit of the various tricks freemium games would use to keep players coming back. Like it was tailor made to make you think, Just one more jump.

I kept those thoughts to myself.

There wasn't anything else to add to that conversation, and stories about the various stowaways had reminded me of something I'd been meaning to ask anyway. "You mentioned Garrus needing 'Warehouse-grade medical care'. I assume the Warehouse can treat brain damage?"

"The medical center can heal anything short of death." Emily gave me an appraising look. "You're thinking about Shadow Stalker?"

"Yeah. That's my fault; I suggested that she'd be vulnerable to pepper spray. I had no idea how vulnerable she'd be."

"There are easier options. I'm sure Jenn can brew a healing potion strong enough to help."

"That's a relief." That solved the question of how to heal her. I'd still need to figure out how to get her to take the potion… and if she even wanted it. Things I really wanted to worry about later. "On another topic entirely: do you know if the Warehouse has a manufactory or something? Because I want to make myself another costume."

Emily nodded. "You want the Workshop. Here, I'll show you." She led me into the Warehouse, to one of the buildings along the side of the park rather than in the town. From the outside, it looked like a cross between a fantasy-world smithy and an industrial plant. The inside had a similarly mismatched look, hand-pumped bellows sitting side by side with motorized conveyor belts, power tools both hand-held and floor-mounted, and a number of bizarre mash-ups of crafting benches from different works; the walls were completely covered with cabinets full of raw materials, from iron and copper through silk, kevlar, and weirder materials like 'armorweave' and 'ceramalloy'. I couldn't fully automate the process, but with her help I was able to produce a new costume in just under two hours, plus a spare jacket for each, just in case I had to shuck one to escape a grapple—unlikely, given my powers, but proper preparation prevents poor performance. I decided to exercise my ability to vary the costume, changing the colors a bit and going crazy with the wig.

"Cosplaying?" Emily asked when I tried the hairpiece on.

I pouted. "I have the show on the brain, okay?"

"That's not a denial…" She caught the wrench I threw at her head easily.

———X==X==X———​

Since I was in the Warehouse anyway, it only made sense to run a couple errands while I was here. The first was a visit to Jenn, who was in the game room building a deck for some trading card game I wasn't familiar with. I ran through the problem as succinctly as I could.

"Emily—uh, that is, Homura—said that you could probably help, so, uh, here I am," I concluded awkwardly.

"I can definitely help," Jenn said proudly. "It won't be easy, though. I'll need to brew a 'brain revitalizing' potion specifically, since anything more conceptual is going to run afoul of the O-C-P depower."

"You have a recipe for that?"

"Nope! I'll need a week for research, maybe two if the first approach doesn't pan out. She's not getting any worse, right?"

"I don't think so," I said.

"Great, then time's not an issue. I'll let you know when I have a better estimate. The actual brewing should only take a few hours unless I need to get into really exotic techniques, so as soon as I have a recipe, I can make it whenever you want."

"Thank you," I said earnestly. "What can I do to pay you back?"

"Don't worry about it!" she said. "It's my hobby, anyway, and knowing someone is going to use them just makes it more fun. Why do you think we have so many potions stockpiled?"

"Emergencies?" I guessed.

Jenn laughed. "I wouldn't call me being bored an emergency!"

"Still, I owe you. If you need anything—a favor, a hand, a loan, company, whatever—don't hesitate to ask."

"I won't." She thought about for a few seconds, then added, "Say, I was thinking about doing a side jump if the next world was another crapsack. Would you like to come?"

"Sure!"

"You don't have to!" she insisted. "Just, you know, if there's nothing good on offer, we could go on an adventure together."

I smiled. "That sounds great. If Management throws us at Pact, or something, we're gone."

Having a plan of action lightened my spirits quite a bit, but there was another concern I had to deal with, so I tracked down Diane to discuss Dinah's… I wanted to call it 'accommodations', but couldn't help but think of it as 'captivity'. I probably wouldn't have been able to find her if Jenn hadn't pointed me in the right direction; she was in a greenhouse off the side of the park, rather than one of the buildings in town. Well, Jenn called it a greenhouse, but that was a bit of a misnomer; despite looking like a plain modern brick building from the outside, the door seemed to lead out of a large country house into a massive garden, a simple picket fence marking the boundary of the false space. Diane was kneeling in the dirt just off the flagstone path, tying young stalks to stakes.

"Hello, Diane," I said. "Gardening?"

"Gardening," she agreed. "These are tomatoes." She finished tying off the stalk and moved onto the next as she spoke. "We don't need to grow our own food, obviously, but I find caring for plants to be comforting."

"Makes sense to me."

"I assume you didn't come over here to watch me garden, though," she said. "How can I help you?"

"I was wondering how Dinah's doing. Zero seems to have handed her off to you."

"I volunteered," Diane said. "She's been enjoying herself immensely. Having her power under control has been a huge relief for her."

"Good. She's not bored, or homesick?"

"No." She looked up from the vines with a smile. "She's been treating this as a wonderful adventure."

"That's…" It took me a moment to figure out a proper adjective for that sort of attitude. "…resilient of her?"

"She's still at the age where Narnia feels like something that could happen to her," Diane said. "Do you know how long her 'adventure' is going to last?"

"The current estimate is one to two weeks."

"That long?" she asked. I flinched. "That's not a judgment, I just expected you to be more… direct."

"I'm giving Tattletale a chance to set up," I explained. "I 'offered her the keys to the kingdom', to use her words, and she accepted."

"Ah." She nodded in understanding, practiced fingers working on the vines without her needing to look. "You know, if you want to be thorough, I can skim through his mind for you."

"That's… generous. And creepy."

Diane frowned slightly as she turned back to her work. "If you've already decided to kill him, reading his mind isn't really a concern, is it?"

"I… I don't know. I guess I'm used to thinking as violating a mind as worse than murder?"

"It's not violating a mind. It's barely worse than reading his mail."

"Stealing mail is a federal offense," I pointed out.

Diane let out an exasperated chuckle. "You're polluting the metaphor, dear."

"I know, I know… sorry, still not comfortable with some stuff, you know?"

"You don't need to apologize. You've got it twice over; your home timeline didn't have any of this, and now you're in a world where telepathy is pretty much anathema due to the Simurgh."

"Damn," I muttered. "I hadn't even thought of that."

"Cultural bias is very real. That's not the reason I didn't insert, this Jump, but in hindsight, not having to deal with that is a plus."

"You couldn't just… not slot it?" I regretted the question as soon as I said it, since I immediately realized how insensitive it sounded—you wouldn't gouge out your eyes to visit a world that shuns sight, would you?—but the response wasn't what I'd expected.

"I'm a natural telepath. It's not a perk."

"Oh." And that's yet another way it could be insensitive. At least she seemed to find my question amusing, rather than insulting.

Diane finished with the line of tomato plants and stood up, dusting her hands clean with two short pats. "It's up to you whether you want my help. If you want to do this yourselves, I'm not going to tell you otherwise."

"I mean…" I looked away awkwardly. "I'm not sure how I'd pitch the offer to Tattletale, and it sounds like Dinah wouldn't mind the delay, but her parents must be worried sick."

"I can deal with that," Diane said. "It's likely Coil isn't paying any attention at all to her parents, now that she's off the board. If they agree to keep it quiet, I can set up some phone calls, maybe even let them see her."

"Good. Uh, thank you." I laughed awkwardly. "I should probably have said that earlier. And to Zero, too."

"Better late than never." She stepped forward and moved me gently towards the door, shooing me out of the garden. "Zero's in the arcade again," she told me. "Off you go."

———X==X==X———​

With my errands (and thanks) complete, I stepped out of the Warehouse back into my living room, then headed over to the Undersider's loft to drop off one of my costumes. Taylor wasn't there, which was a little surprising. Alec was playing videogames, which wasn't. "Hey, nerd," I said in greeting.

"Hey, toon."

"Hi, Kasey," Lisa called from her room.

"Hi!" I left Alec to his amusements and headed back to the rooms and stuck my head around the door to Lisa's cubby. The space was a mess, the floor covered in clothes and papers; the clearest surface was, ironically, the desk pushed into one corner. Lisa herself was lying on her back on a mattress in the middle of the floor, tapping away at her laptop from atop a pile of messy sheets and laundry. "How's your day going?" I asked.

"Fine. Great, actually," she said, glancing up at me before returning to whatever she was doing on the computer. "Slept like a baby last night. I'd forgotten what it felt like to not have at least a minor headache." I raised an eyebrow. "I haven't had a chance to fully let my power reset in a long time, that's all. How about you?"

"Good. Productive. Actually, I want your opinion on something, one moment." I ducked into the bathroom and changed into the new costume. I'd brightened up the accents a bit to contrast the black and dark blue base, orange and gold replacing the light blue and white. The wig was the largest change; rather than a short, spiky frost-colored arrangement, I now had a massive mane of blonde hair streaked through with other, wackier colors pulled into a high pony-tail. I knocked on Lisa's (open) door when I'd finished changing. "What do you think?"

She took a moment to look over the changes. "It's… fine, I guess? No better or worse than your first suit. Most capes stick to the same look, but it's not like there's a rule that says you can't change it up. You've still got the same basic pattern and silhouette, crazy hair aside, so you're going to be recognizable." Lisa paused, and I could see her eyes following the wig down my back. "You know, if you were anyone else, I'd tell you off for having a giant 'grab me' sign on your head."

"My power would make them regret trying." I'd tested it before going whole-hog on the hairpiece, and I had a couple options for screwing with anyone who grabbed my hair. I could just make the wig too slick to hold, or turn up the tensile strength, mass, and friction to the point it would be like sticking a hand into a whirling mass of piano wire. "Besides," I added with a look at her own mop of hair, "I really don't think you're in any position to throw stones, there."

"I'm not a hand-to-hand fighter," she said with a grin. "Did you spend all morning getting that ready?"

"Yeah." I pulled the mask-wig back off. "I wanted to have a spare costume to leave here. Which do you think I should leave?"

"Hmm. It's not a huge change, so I don't think it matters too much. Probably whichever one you like better; you can leave the other at home as a spare."

"That's the plan. What I need help with is picking which one that is." If I'd had a clear preference, I wouldn't have needed to ask for help.

"This one, then," Lisa said. "You like it better, you're just hesitant about making a change, and…" she squinted at me, "…embarrassed about the hair? Then why—about where you got the idea? Where?"

"I'm changing back now." I closed her door on her out of pettiness, which meant I felt obligated to knock after I'd finished changing.

"I didn't suddenly get naked in the five minutes it took you to change, weirdo," Lisa called through the door. I took a second to stop imagining her naked, then opened the door to see her grinning at me like she knew exactly what she'd done. "You can use the chair by the desk if you don't want to just stand in the doorway. Any idea what Taylor's doing today?"

I picked my way across the room, trying to step on as little of her laundry as I could. "No, haven't heard from her today. I figured she'd be here, to be honest." I grabbed the folding chair and turned it towards her before sitting down. "You know anything about that?"

"She's hiding from me," she said.

It sounded like a joke, but I still had to ask, "What did you do~?"

"I'm not serious. I took her shopping yesterday while you were at school, stuffed her into some clothes that would actually show off her figure. She's really self-conscious about not having 'curves', but 'thin' is a look, and she's got it."

Ah, right, that had been a thing. I'd forgotten about that; it was lucky Lisa was picking up the slack on the socially-rehabilitate-Taylor front. "You didn't have to do that." Come to think of it, I wasn't sure why she had. Taylor wasn't anywhere near as close to the edge as she would have been without me; I had both my own impression and the Journal to confirm that.

"I don't have to do a lot of things." Lisa closed the laptop and set it aside, giving me her full attention. "Taylor needs friends, plural." Funny that I'd said something similar to Taylor the day we'd met the team. "I can see what you see in her. That said, I recognize a project case when I see one. You're really set on saving her, aren't you?"

The observation caught me off guard. "I… that's…" I shut up and thought, rather than stuttering foolishly. Was that really what I was doing?

"That's not a criticism," Lisa reassured me. "I can understand it, sympathize, even. I want to help her, too, and if I'm helping you at the same time, then maybe I'm paying you back a little."

"…thanks," I said, for lack of anything better to say. "Sorry, it's just that 'save' is a loaded term. It implies…" something, although I couldn't put my finger on exactly what the problem was.

"It implies that the person being saved is helpless," she said, following my thoughts to their end conclusion. "That's the difference between 'helping' and 'saving': whether or not the person in trouble is able to contribute to their own rescue."

"Agency." Another thing that had come up in conversation between Taylor and I.

"Exactly. Taylor's gotten used to having no power, no agency, no way to improve her situation. She doesn't have any faith in her ability to accomplish anything. She would be a hero, if she did." That was… extremely harsh. Was she really saying that Taylor had only followed me onto the team because she felt useless alone? "I'm sorry, Kasey, but it's true. She chose you over her own goals, because she needed a friend more than she cared about anything else, even her sense of right and wrong."

What about Sophia? I almost asked, but Lisa didn't know that story. From a certain point of view, that was my fault, anyway. "Fuck," I cursed. "What kind of friend am I if I'd lead her into this kind of life against her own moral compass?"

"Leading and being followed are different," she said. "You didn't tell her to come with you, did you?"

"No, I didn't. I made sure to tell her we'd stay friends no matter what she chose."

"Well, then at least you know it was her choice, even if you influenced it. It's not like you forced her into a life of crime. She wanted to stay close to you, and she made choices to make that happen." Thanks for still making it sound like my fault. "Ugh, I'm not good at helping people with my power. It tends to point out things they don't want to hear."

"No, really?" I asked, voice thick with sarcasm. Lisa huffed and pouted. "I've probably not been the best friend to her, really," I admitted, as much to myself as to her. "Hell, half of the time we've spent 'together' has been helping her learn to fight." It was probably close to two thirds of the time, even including lunch hour and 'extracurriculars'.

"Who's idea was that?"

When was the last time I'd stopped to ask her? I'd asked on Tuesday, and she'd gone straight back to training. "Hers…"

"Then stop blaming yourself, you sad-sack. If she's more comfortable sparring than 'friend-ing' with you, keep being her trainer, and I'll work on drawing her farther out of her comfort zone. Deal?"

"I reserve the right to join you on your socializing expeditions."

"Of course," Lisa said immediately. "I'll call you next time. We can try to schedule it around school, if you're too straight to skip."

I shook my head. "Gonna get my GED soon. Sick of sitting through lessons I already know." Oops, that might have been too much information; Lisa didn't comment on it, though. "I appreciate you reaching out to Taylor."

"I'm not doing it for you," she said, not unkindly. "She was pretty close to the edge, not too long ago, wasn't she?"

I nodded. "Yeah." For all the good I tried to do, Taylor's scars ran deep. "Do you think I'm actually helping her?"

"Of course!" Lisa said, surprised. "What did you think you were doing?"

"Saving her?"

"Ah. Hmm." She stared off into space for a minute. "I don't know. Maybe. Does it matter?"

That was a good question. "I don't know."

"Then just keep doing what you're doing. It can't be bad for her, either way. Same for me, right?"

"I guess." I'd just keep doing what I could to help, and so would Lisa. Wait, that wasn't what she meant, was it? I glanced back at her, and she winked at me. Clever wordplay, Lisa. Very clever. "You know how long it's going to take for the money to come through?"

"A week, thereabouts. Boss has to move it carefully, and he's still evaluating the documents. That'll probably add about fifty grand to the total payout. Call it an extra eight grand each. Pretty good, right?"

I didn't remember it taking that long. Then again, I think Taylor had a concussion for a week from the bombing. "We really cleaned them out, huh?" I asked with forced cheer.

"Yeah. Central's still trying to downplay the actual theft, but it'll have to come out eventually when they file their insurance claims. They're hoping the public will have forgotten the whole thing by the time they have to admit how much we took."

"How long do they have?"

"Not sure. Don't really care. Does it matter?"

"Not really. Just wondering how likely it was to work. Say, speaking of the money, what are you going to spend your payout on?"

"Knowing my life, coffee and tylenol. You?"

"Dunno. Maybe some of that black market stuff you mentioned?" I wasn't eager to spend it in the first place, not after learning what it had cost. "Seriously, you're not going to spend thirty grand on painkillers and caffeine, not if you plan to live through the end of the year."

"Try me." I stuck my tongue out at her. "Fine, fine. I actually live off this stuff, so it'll be going into rent payments. Boring, right?"

"Truly. I guess Brian will be doing the same, since he doesn't live here, obviously. And Alec is probably going to buy more games."

"Assembling dossiers on us, Kasey?" Lisa's grin widened. "Such devious intelligence gathering."

"But of course. Without any clues as to your shadowy boss, it behooves me to gather what little scraps I can manage." I'm sure my own grin was as shit-eating as hers, by now. "Of course, I still need nicknames for the rest of you. Maybe Alec should be Jayne." I glanced in the direction I knew Alec's room was, with its crown-painted door. "Man walks around in a hat like that, you know he ain't afraid of anything."

She shook her head. "I really don't get your references at all."

"That's a damn shame, Nancy Dee," I drawled. "A damn shame."

She threw a sock at my head. "I got that one, you jerk!"

———X==X==X———​

I tried to visit Sophia again that evening, but an hour of loitering in the visitor's center of the hospital failed to conjure up another plainclothes officer. She wasn't answering her texts either; she probably still didn't have her phone. The only thing I could do was leave a coded message on her home phone, in which I told Mrs. Hess that I'd 'heard Sophia had an accident' from 'a mutual friend' and asked her to have Sophia call me when she got home.

I hoped she was doing okay.

Sunday, I spent the morning with Emily again. It was a nice, quiet, domestic morning watching TV and just… living. Which was spoiled when Emily's phone chimed and she immediately stopped play-acting at enjoying the experience. She disappeared into timestop on some errand or another, and I grabbed a coat and stormed off into the city, the familial illusion shattered.

I rode the busses for a while, heading towards the loft without a conscious decision, but I realized I didn't really want to talk to any of the Undersiders. It wasn't like I could explain why I was unhappy. I skipped the normal stop and got off a few stops later, no destination in mind. I was deep in the docks, at this point; it was inhabited, unlike the desolation around the loft, but it was a neighborhood where the police response time would be 'after the gunfire stops.' In hindsight I wonder if I wasn't subconsciously hoping for a mugger to take out some frustration on.

What I got was a freak encounter with the pavement when I turned a corner and tripped over the leads of four different dogs. "Gyah!" I yelled as my face bounced harmlessly off the sidewalk. "Fuck, sorry ma—Rachel?"

"Watch where you're going," Rachel snapped. "You could have hurt them."

"Sorry," I repeated. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Obviously." She turned and continued on her way.

I really hadn't spent any time with Rachel at all. I had a school friendship with Taylor, a conspiracy with Lisa, and a leisure-ship with Alec. Brian and Rachel, though, I'd neglected.

"Hey, Rachel?" I called.

"What?" she called back crossly, not pausing at all.

"Can I walk with you?"

"No."

"Please?" I asked.

Now she stopped, turning around to look at me. "Why?"

"Because I haven't spent any time with you at all and I want to get to know everyone."

"Don't need to know me," she said.

"I want to," I repeated.

We stared at each other for a few moments. I could only vaguely remember what Taylor had done to—fuck, was this manipulation again? Was it better, more honest, that I couldn't remember more than 'helped with dogs'?

I wasn't lying. I wanted to get to know her better than just the weird, fragmented outline of a person I had in my head. Intent matters! "Look, I can just… I'll just walk. You can talk if you want to. Or not."

"Fine." She turned and resumed her walk, and I hurried to catch up. We walked through the docks, heading in the vague direction of downtown and stopping every so often when one of the dogs did something that Rachel needed to correct. It was a very different experience than I'd ever had walking a dog. I had no doubt that Rachel knew exactly what the dogs were thinking, what they wanted, and what they should do. The way she managed them with only a look or gesture was downright shocking compared to how I was used to people training their dogs—which is to say, not training their dogs.

The city changed slowly around us as we went, people growing more frequent, shops . Rachel seemed to relax as we went, probably because I was keeping my promise to shut up. She tensed up the first few times she noticed me trailing along, but after a couple blocks she seemed content with the arrangement. For my part, I was just hoping she'd break the silence.

Eventually, after about a mile, she did. "You ever have a dog?" she asked.

"Not me, no. Friends and family did."

"They treat them right?"

"They tried," I hedged. "They weren't as good as you, but they cared. They made sure they were fed and healthy, tried to keep them happy, you know?"

"What'd they do wrong?" she asked.

"Training, mostly. None of the dogs I knew back home were trained well."

Rachel harrumphed, but didn't say more than that. A block or so later, she asked, "Did you want a dog?"

"No."

She looked at me like I was crazy. "Why not?"

"I'm not good with animals. I mean, I'm not bad with handling animals, but I wouldn't want to take care of one. I'd mess it up."

"You want me to teach you how to care for a dog?" she asked suspiciously. It wasn't an offer.

"No, that's not why I'm here. I just wanted to spend some time with you."

"Why?"

"You said you didn't like me, yesterday," I said. "I want to change that."

"You come out here looking for me?"

"No, I didn't know you were out here at all." Meeting Rachel had actually been successful at distracting me from my original problem—at least, until she asked about it. "I… I just needed to be away from home for a bit. I don't want to talk about it."

"You get in a fight with your parents or something?"

"I may as well not have parents," I grumbled. "My mom's off in San Francisco or Honolulu or Anchorage or whatever, doing… whatever business stuff she does. And my dad…" I didn't finish the thought. It was still a sore subject.

I wasn't sure if having a parent in the picture would make things with Emily better or worse. On the one hand, maybe having some sort of normalcy would help. On the other, I worried I'd have ended up constantly comparing them to my 'real' family, and I didn't think Emily would be willing to open up at all around a 'family member' she knew she'd be leaving.

"You eat enough?"

The question caught me off-guard. "What?"

"You eat enough?" Rachel repeated.

"Yeah…?"

"Good."

Where had that come from? Was she… I think she was. She was worried about me, wondering if not having parents around meant I didn't have food.

Huh.

I studied Rachel as we walked. Her body language was… a completely invalid source of information, since I didn't know which of her mannerisms were normal human gestures and which were more canine. It seemed to be able the same as when we'd started, for whatever that was worth. I couldn't remember Rachel's history beyond the most basic points. Her trigger event involved her mother trying to drown her puppy, if I remembered correctly. What had happened after that? She'd have had to run, live on the streets… shit, my whining was probably poking at some trauma.

Given how much life had shit on Rachel 'Bitch' Lindt, everything was probably poking at one trauma or another.

Still, the fact that's cared enough to ask was encouraging, so I decided to take a bit of initiative.

"Your dogs are amazingly well trained," I said.

"Not amazing," she said. "They learn what I teach them. People just suck at teaching their dogs."

"Fair enough."

"Most people shouldn't own dogs. They don't want dogs. They want toys, or dolls."

"Yeah."

"They don't understand what their dog needs, and they get angry when their dog tries to get it, and then they throw the dog away." She pointed to one of the dogs she was walking, a gray… dog. I didn't know shit about dog breeds. "That one's Oscar. His breed needs space to run. Family had him in a small flat, and he knocked over all the furniture because he didn't have enough space. They gave him up."

I looked at Oscar, trotting along at the end of his leash. He'd been pulling, earlier, and Rachel had needed to stop and correct him a couple times before he'd settled down to her pace, but he was doing well now. I was starting to wonder if her power did give her some level of control over dogs, even if it was just some sort of communication thing, because I wasn't sure anyone else could have that kind of effect that fast.

Then again, I knew exactly jack shit about dogs. Maybe she was just a mundane-level dog whisperer.

"I imagine a lot of dogs have stories like that," I said.

"Too many. Idiots don't ask the right questions."

"Have you ever met someone you thought should own a dog?"

She shot a glare at me. "What are you saying?"

"I'm just wondering if there are people who can care for dogs properly. You know, to your standards."

"My standards?" Rachel repeated angrily.

"You're really good with dogs! I mean, really, really, good. Obviously. I was just… have you met anyone who you thought, 'Yeah, this is okay'? Or do people just always suck?"

Rachel glowered into the distance, considering the question.

"Some people are better than others," she allowed, "but everyone gets something wrong. They don't understand their dogs."

I nodded. "That's why I didn't want a dog. I know I wouldn't understand it. I wouldn't know if I was doing something wrong."

"'Least you know enough not to get a dog," Rachel said.

"Yeah. I looked after a friend's dog, once, and I was always stressed that I hadn't given him enough food, or too much food, or that he needed a longer walk than I had time for, or—"

"You're dumb," she said.

"What?"

"You're dumb. I get it. You don't have to go on and on about it."

"That wasn't what I was saying," I grumbled.

"Sounded like it. If the dog's hungry, give him food. If he's not hungry, don't give him more. It's not fucking hard."

"I can't tell whether or not a dog's hungry. That's what I meant. I don't speak dog. I don't understand what they're thinking."

"How do you not understand?" she asked.

"Well… okay, this might make you angry, but I'm going to say it anyway." If she wanted to hit me, that was fine; it'd bounce off. "I don't understand dogs the same way you don't understand people."

Rachel didn't get angry about that, to my surprise. "Dogs make sense," she said. "They aren't hiding a ton of bullshit with words and shit. They're honest."

"I don't think people hide as much as you might think. They just assume you get it."

"That's dumb," she said. "Why not just say what they mean?"

"Well, they do, they just… they say it in ways you don't get. Eye contact, movements. Like… you can tell a lot about what a dog thinks by it's ears and tail, right?"

"Duh."

"Well… humans don't have dog ears or tails. They use other signals. Sometimes they use the same signals, but they mean totally different things, like showing teeth." I kept an eye on her, trying to gauge if she was getting upset, but she looked… thoughtful. Or maybe doubtful. "I don't think I've ever met anyone who can work with dogs the way you do, but it's pretty clear you're not really, uh, comfortable around people."

"Doesn't matter," she said. "I have my dogs. I don't need people."

"Okay." I wasn't going to start an argument with her now. "If you do need something, like if you need to move a couple hundred pounds of dog food or whatever, you can call me."

"I don't need help."

"If you want help, then."

Rachel turned her head away and yawned into the back of her hand, and I shut up. I wasn't sure exactly what that meant beyond the obvious interpretation of 'you're boring me', but it wasn't a stretch to think she wanted the conversation to end. Neither of us said anything for another couple of blocks.

She whistled as we arrived at a street corner, and Brutus and Judas stopped walking. The other two dogs continued for half a step before they noticed, at which point they quickly hurried back into position. Rachel watched this impassively, then turned to face me. "I'm going home now," she said. "Goodbye."

That, at least, was easy to interpret. "Goodbye," I said. "Maybe we can do this again?"

Rachel ignored my offer.

———X==X==X———​

I skipped class all day Monday, since I'd be testing out this week, but still turned up for lunch. After all, I had news.

"Hey, Kasey," Taylor said as I sat down next to her. I'd brought another sandwich; she had a cold chicken breast and a cup of potato salad.

"Hi."

I gave us both a few minutes to eat before I started talking. "I think I have an answer," I said. "For… you know."

Taylor's eyes widened slightly. "How soon?"

"A week, maybe two."

"Good," Taylor said. "That's, uh, that's good."

"Yeah." I rested my chin in my hands, staring out across the cafeteria. "I still don't know how we're actually going to give it to her."

"Well… uh, what is it?"

"It's a drink."

"Another one of those dr—those drinks," Taylor said. "Special order?"

"Something like that," I said. I surreptitiously glanced over towards Emma's posse, but she was firmly planted in her circle of sycophants, and showed no interest in us at all.

"Not something that can be disguised?"

"No." I drummed the fingers of my free hand on the table as I thought. No sudden wisdom appeared. "The only thing I can think of is just… walking up to her house and telling her, 'Hey, drink this, it'll cure you. Honest.'"

"Then do that."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" Taylor asked. "It's not like it's 'from' me, not really. Uh…" She glanced around, then whispered, "How much is this going to cost you, exactly?"

"Favors," I replied. Taylor looked concerned, so I added, "It's not going to be anything dire. We're on good terms."

"If you need any help, or your friend asks for something I can handle, I'll do it. Just ask."

"Thanks." I was pretty sure it wouldn't come up, but if Jenn wanted a spider-silk costume for some reason I guess I could pass the request along. "What I really need is a plan. Or an excuse, or… an explanation."

Taylor hummed her agreement.

"So you don't want to be involved at all?"

"Don't see why I should," she said. "She's not my friend."

"That's true…" I thought for a moment, then added, "It is your responsibility, though, just as much as mine."

"You said you weren't going to make an issue out of it."

"I said I wasn't going to make a demand. I'm asking you because I think you should be involved."

"Me being there won't mean anything unless I… you know."

"Unless we have an explanation," I said.

"Yeah."

I glanced at Emma again, and found no change there. "How's school been? Still hell?"

"Better, surprisingly," she said. "Punching Julia actually helped. People are scared of me, now."

"That's… good?"

"It works," she said. "I'm… trying not to enjoy it. You know, the way I did at the, uh, park."

"Right."

"Mostly," she continued, "it means that no one is willing to approach me alone, and groups are easy to avoid. Madison still gives me trouble in class sometimes, so, I, uh, pranked her."

"What did you do, exactly?"

"She likes to steal my homework, so I drew a little spider on the page." Taylor looked around, then leaned in and whispered, "Then I put a big, fat spider on the paper when she reached for it, and hid it when she screamed, so it looked like she was freaking out over a crappy little dot with eight lines."

I couldn't stop myself from laughing, because it was a good trick, but… "That's a pretty harsh prank."

She cocked her head. "Come on, Kasey, it's just a little scare."

"It's gaslighting."

Taylor grimaced. "Fuck, it is, isn't it? I guess I can't keep doing that."

"How many times did you do it?"

"Only once," she said, "but I was planning to do it again if she tried to steal more of my stuff." Taylor chewed on her lip for a moment. "Having them tiptoe around me is nice, but they're going to try again sooner or later. I promised Dad I wouldn't get in another fight. What?" she demanded as I stifled a laugh.

"The last 'fight' you were in was at the 'park'," I pointed out, fingers in full air-quote mode.

"That doesn't count!"

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't know it was me!" she said.

I couldn't argue with that logic.

———X==X==X———​

I didn't bother going to school at all on Tuesday, since I couldn't be there to meet Taylor for lunch; around noon, I drove up to Concord for the GED, administered in a spare room of one of the city's community colleges. The proctor asked me for my identification, confiscated my purse, and handed me two booklets: one was the test, and the other was for my answers. I wasn't actually sure what Emily had arranged until I sat down and opened the test book to find myself looking at the answer key. It felt like I spent a week numbly copying answers from the booklet into the response notebook.

The fact that I could probably have done fine without cheating helped ease the shame a little, but not completely. I don't think borrowing a perfect memory or intelligence perk would have given me the same degree of guilt, even if it was just as much a cheat as what I was doing; maybe the fact that I was doing something that real, not-Jumpchain people could do made it worse. My wonderful skill of compartmentalization let me ignore the question once I'd finished.

When I finally got my purse back, I pulled out my phone to message Emily that I was heading back, only to see that I had a message from her waiting for me, along with a half-dozen others from Taylor, Lisa, and Sophia, both voicemails and texts.

The Teeth were back in Brockton Bay.

———X==X==X———​
 
Chapter 22: Blitz
Chapter 22: Blitz


I sent Emily a quick acknowledgment, then dialed Taylor first. She picked up quickly. "Hello?"

"Taylor! Are you okay?"

"Who—Kasey! Did you see the news?"

"I got your message." And Lisa's. And Sophia's. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Sitting in the loft watching TV. Where are you?"

"Up in Concord."

"What?" she asked. "Why?"

"Testing out of school."

"Lucky," Taylor said enviously. "When do you find out if you pass?"

"I don't know." Not officially, anyway. "You sure you're okay? Safe?"

"Yeah, of course. It's nowhere near us."

"Good. Stay there. What about your dad?"

"His office is up near the coast. He'll be fine."

"Glad to hear it. Sorry, I have to return a lot of messages, I'll call back when I'm back in Brockton." I hung up and dialed Lisa. The phone didn't even ring once before she picked up.

"Hi Kasey!" It sounded a bit like she was trying not to laugh.

"Hey. I got your message," I said. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine. The action was way down south."

Oh, that's what was so funny. "Is this going to get bad?"

"Yeah. The Teeth think they can take the city by force now that Lung's out of the picture. It's going to be a full on war."

Shit. "I'm on my way back now. We can talk when I'm back in the Bay."

"See you soon."

Sophia's phone went to voicemail. "Hey, Sophia, it's Kasey. I just got your message. Call me when you get this." She was probably fine; it wasn't like she was going anywhere, right? I stuck my phone back into my purse, hopped in the car, and drove back to Brockton with a lead foot on the pedal.

My phone rang when I was halfway back, and I answered immediately. "Kasey. Who's this?"

"Sophia. I guess you heard?"

"Yeah, everyone texted me. You safe?"

She laughed bitterly. "Yeah, I'm safe. They were all set to discharge me today or tomorrow, but now they want to make sure I'm not going to do something stupid—as though I could. They just finished moving me to the Wards HQ. Poor Vista's stuck playing nursemaid—say Hi, Vista!" There was a pause. "She says hi," Sophia said. I think a rude gesture was probably more likely.

"Well, I was gonna offer to visit again, but I guess that's not happening."

"Fishing for a VIP tour?" she joked.

"You guys are going to be busy."

"Hey, I'd give you one if I could. Can't really tour guide from a bed though." She paused. "Are you?"

"What?"

"Gonna 'be busy'. You know, you never told me your cape name."

"You never told me yours," I shot back. "I had to guess."

"You didn't tell me she was a cape!" Vista said from somewhere else in the room. "What sort? Why didn't you tell us about her?"

"Hah. Fair enough. Hold on." I could hear from her voice that she'd turned away from the speakerphone. "You never asked, breaker, you never asked." She turned back. "Still, though. You going to get involved?"

"I don't know." It depended on the Undersiders. "Probably. Hi, Vista."

"Hi," Vista said.

"She says hi for you," Sophia grumbled.

"What's your cape name?" Vista asked.

No way was I going to tell them who I was. "No offense, but you already know my civilian name, so…"

"Oh. I guess that makes sense…"

"Do you even have a cape name yet?" Sophia asked.

"Of course I do!" I said, implying the opposite by acting as defensive as possible. "I'm driving back to Brockton Bay now—"

"While talking on a cell phone?" Vista interrupted.

"Hands-free, relax." Man, heroes were obnoxiously Lawful, sometimes. "I'm about twenty minutes away, and then I have to make some more calls, check up on people, but I'll be around. If you get out of a high-security area, call me and I'll swing by, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. They're can't keep me here for long. Vista'll smother me in my sleep if they make her babysit me much longer." The lack of protest from Vista was a little worrying.

"See you later, Stalker."

"Later, nerd."

———X==X==X———​

I headed straight over to the loft. Taylor was using a laptop on the couch and didn't look up as I walked in, so I headed back to where Tattletale was pouring over a map of the city on one of the tables next to an open Risk box. "What's the situation?" I asked as I looked over her shoulder.

"Teeth had a big confrontation with the merchants here," she said, pointing to a bunch of red and yellow boardgame pieces lying on their sides. "Yellow is Teeth, red is Empire, green is ABB, black is merchants, blue is PRT and Protectorate. Knights are capes, soldiers are normals." I looked over the city, with the pieces spread out across it. It looked a lot like a normal game of Risk, to be honest.

"How accurate is this?" I asked, pointing to the ABB forces spread out across the docks.

"It's a measure of area, not force movements," she said. "Most gang members have lives outside the gang, even if it's just a shitty job stocking shelves in a convenience store. They don't exist as 'troops' until they're called to arms."

"I know how mustering works. It just seems like a lot of work to set up, if you're just marking areas."

"Well, the areas are going to start changing, fast." She grabbed a bunch of yellow soldiers and started putting them onto the map at the south edge of the city. "Currently, the ABB are barely hanging onto the docks, the Empire's based in the less slummy areas south and west, the Protectorate patrol the nicest areas, and the Merchants just sort of squat wherever they can." Indeed, there were clear groupings of red, blue, and green pieces, with occasional lonely black soldiers filling space between them. I pulled out a chair and sat down while she finished arranging the new pieces.

"The Teeth are coming up from the south, so they hit the Empire. The first big brawl was at the southeast edge of downtown, here." She pointed at the cluster of fallen game pieces again. "Purity was definitely involved. Reports are five dead, although none to her: gunshot wounds and a stabbing. Then, while you were on your way back, there was another fight here." She pointed to another group of pieces, four 'dead' soldiers with a single knight of each color looking on. "Purity wasn't in this one, but Kaiser was; there were blades all over the place. Another half dozen goons dead, split roughly along gang lines, and Kaiser retreated. I think he ran into the Butcher; not many capes can get him to back off."

The Butcher would give anyone pause. "What about these guys, here?" I asked, pointing to some more Teeth soldiers at the north end of the map, near the trainyards.

"They're just taking territory for territory's sake. The Merchants can't actually hold their ground, so the Teeth are grabbing it for their own use. Stashes, safehouses, that sort of thing. The Merchants aren't even fighting for it; they need their capes, and their capes are still sleeping off their last high.

"Now, the Teeth don't really stick around in one spot, but they like having territory to return to, when they move shop. There are areas in New York, Boston, and Philly that are 'Teeth Territory' because the 'fair-weather' members maintain it, and anyone who muscles in on it is going to be in a world of pain when the Butcher gets back." She tapped her finger on the map near where I'd pointed. "The Teeth are raiding, but they're also consolidating, trying to set up a permanent 'cell', if you will; safehouses and stashes that will stay loyal and secure while they're roaming. A lot of people don't want that to happen, for obvious reasons, which is why the Empire is fighting so hard for every scrap."

"And we're… here?" I asked, pointing to a spot between a bunch of green (ABB), black (Merchants), and yellow (Teeth) pieces.

"Yeah. It looks worse than it is. We may have to be more careful about moving into and out of the loft for a while, but we're pretty well camouflaged."

I watched in silence as she placed a few more Teeth on the board, then moved two blue knights from the middle of the bay onto the Boardwalk. "So, what have you learned from all this?"

"The map scale is off by half a percent, the boardgame is missing six pieces, and I have nothing better to do with my time than shuffle plastic soldiers around a map." Lisa sat back with a sigh. "I wasn't actually accomplishing anything with all this. Alec left the game out and I needed something to do while I wait for Brian to get here. He's trying to find his sister, make sure she's okay."

"Is she?"

"Probably. She shouldn't have been anywhere near the fights; they weren't exactly in 'lively' areas. Run down white trash neighborhood and a shitty, half-empty strip-mall."

"Well, that's good, I guess." I frowned at the map. "Are we going to get involved?"

"Dunno." She shrugged. "I'm not sure who we want to win. On the one hand, a more divided city means everyone else is weaker. On the other hand, I don't want to share a city with the Butcher."

"No one wants to share a city with the Butcher," I said. "What's the Protectorate response look like?"

"Likely nothing. They'll stick to the safe areas and bunker down, wait to see how the war plays out."

"Really?"

"Sad, but true." Lisa waved her arm at the map. "The city's more or less lost the war on crime ever since Lung and Kaiser came onto the scene. I mean, I'll give the local PRT some credit: the city hasn't burned down despite having two diametrically opposed, high-power parahuman gangs competing for territory. They're doing something right, but it's not 'law and order'.

"The cops and heroes will respond to the violence as best they can, but they're reactive; they'll clean up after a mess is made and not much more. The 'Law' doesn't have the tools to deal with the Teeth infrastructure anyway, not in the short term. If the Teeth are going to be sent packing, it's going to be the ABB and Empire who hit the Teeth bases, the safehouses and goods, the foundations; you know, really dig out the roots and carve away the rot. The competing rot, I mean."

"What about us?"

"Boss might hire us for some jobs, but otherwise, nothing." She raised an eyebrow. "Not happy with that?"

"No. We can help."

"We're escape artists, Kasey," Lisa reminded me. "The bank was a fluke."

Don't remind me of the bank. It was both a tempting and painful memory, and I had to stop and push it aside before I could focus again. "So, what, we sit and wait for a 'job offer'?"

She shrugged. "More or less. Are you that eager for more action?"

"Ye—n—hmm. I dunno." I stuck my elbows on the table and rested my chin on my hands. "I just… I don't want to sit back and watch the city go to shit."

I looked over the map again.

"Further to shit," I corrected.

———X==X==X———​

I finally got a call from Sophia on Friday afternoon. She'd been sent home, so I stopped by, as promised. It was a cozy little suburban home in a neighborhood not too different from Taylor's: maybe a little less well-kept, the lawns and hedges a bit wilder and the street pockmarked with shallow potholes, but otherwise much the same. I knocked on the door, then let myself in, as she'd instructed. The sound of a TV news program cut off as I shut the door

Her family had set up a rental folding-hospital bed in the living room, giving her easy access to the television. To my surprise, Vista was sitting on the old gray couch in front of the TV in full costume. "So this is the mysterious Kasey," she said as I walked in.

"I'm not that mysterious," I said. "I mean, uh, hello? I didn't expect to see you here."

"Well, I am," Vista said, smirking at my stumble.

"Still babysitting," Sophia added dryly.

"I wouldn't say 'still babysitting', because that makes it sound like I've been doing it all week," Vista said. To my surprise, she didn't sound unhappy about the situation. "You go to school together?" she asked me.

"Yeah."

"Huh." She looked me over. "You're a cape?"

I hesitated. "Yeah…"

"Right, sorry, just curious." Vista stood up. "I'll leave you two alone for a bit. It was nice to meet you, Kasey."

"Same," I said earnestly. She flashed me a smile as she shook my hand, then let herself out the back door.

I waited until Vista had left, then sat down on the couch she'd just abandoned. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," she shot back.

"How are you doing?"

"Fine, I guess." She shrugged, still watching TV. It was tuned to CNN; the sound was off, but the title bar at the bottom of the screen gave me context for the video, a villain-on-villain cape-fight in So-Cal last Wednesday. I twitched slightly as one of the capes sent another through a line of police cars far too similarly to how I'd thrown Glory Girl last week. "You came back."

"There's a reason I didn't say 'goodbye'," I said.

"I knew you would. I'm just still pissed at Emma. Some fucking friend I had there, right?"

"She didn't even call or anything?"

"Not a word," she grumbled. When I didn't have anything to add, Sophia picked up the remote and—after a short struggle—unmuted the TV.

I watched with her for a minute, but when the anchor began to introduce the familiar, grainy video I'd seen too many times, I grabbed the remote and turned it off.

"I was watching that," Sophia complained.

"I saw. I'm also pretty sure that's a form of self-harm."

Sophia shot me a look, before returning to staring at the blank TV screen. "You know I've seen that video anyway, right?"

"That's not the point," I said. "Why watch it again?"

"I'm trying to remember what I was thinking," Sophia said. "Then."

"During the robbery?" I asked.

"Yeah. God. Such a stupid thing to do." She barked a single, pained laugh. "I had a plan. I knew the team, you know? Bitch who never talks, another bitch who talks too much, some pretty-boy with a stun-gun and super-clumsiness and fucking Grue. Not a problem for me, right? Avoid the taser, don't trip over my own feet, ignore the dogs and whatever the fuck the purple bitch does, and nail that bastard before someone else gets him. Second shot into the pretty-boy to neutralize the stun-gun and I'm home free.

"I could have waited. Could have followed instructions. But then someone else might have gotten Grue. Because that matters, right? Couldn't let anyone else get my nemesis."

She turned to face me, finally, as her story ran its course. "'Course, as soon as I drop in I realize I fucked up, because it's a goddamn bug-pocalypse in there. I still took a shot—because what the fuck else was I gonna do?—and then I started running. Bugs don't let me run, though; I did not want to know what going through a swarm of bugs felt like. But that just lets bug-bitch funnel me right to her, and then, bam."

I winced. Bam indeed.

What was I supposed to say to that?

"You saw it, right?" she asked. "The video?"

"Yeah."

"You see the way she kicks me when I'm down?"

I saw it the first time. "…yeah."

"It makes me wonder," Sophia said. "You know, what I did to make her do that. Because that was personal, you know? Not just hero versus villain shit. That wasn't just a fight, it was a beating. So I wonder: what's her story? Did I beat up her brother 'cause he was a gangster? Or did I fail to save someone she knew when she needed me? Who did I hurt?

"I never stopped to think about that shit, you know? I didn't care. Gotta fight, gotta be strong, gotta be the best. Won't take shit from anyone. Won't take orders from anyone."

"I… I know the feeling," I said. "Getting carried away with… whatever. Then… I don't know. You wake up, or something."

"I guess, maybe something like that?" Sophia glanced at the back door. "Vista used to drive me nuts, you know? Like a little kid trying to fake being older and cooler to hang out with the big girls. I was nasty to her. I missed the point, you know? Someone like that wants to be cooler 'cause they respect you.

"When I got into the base on Wednesday and apologized, she thought I was high on painkillers."

I snickered. "It was a pretty sudden change."

"Outwardly, sure, but I think I was coming around anyway. You had a point, and you made it. Taylor made it. I wish I'd had another chance to fight her; I think she'd have dragged me the distance." Sophia reached over and grabbed a cup, managing to lift it to her lips herself. "I can actually drink from a straw like a normal person," she told me, then did so. "God, I love every little thing I manage to do, now. What was I saying?"

"Taylor."

"Right. I… probably timed by reveal badly. Should have given her time to cool off. She broke my fucking nose!"

"I could tell," I said. "You looked like a blood bag exploded in your face."

"Thanks." She took another drink, then replaced the cup. "Did you do what I asked?"

"What did—oh. Taylor?"

"Yeah. Did you tell her?"

"I did," I said.

"What did she say?"

A lot of things that I couldn't repeat. "Well, she said your apology sounded like the brain damage talking."

Sophia huffed. "I'm going to fucking hear that from everyone, aren't I?"

"Looks that way."

"What else?"

"That she used to wish this kinda shit on you, and feels bad about that now that it happened."

"Well, she doesn't have to wish anymore." She grinned at her quip; I tried to grin back, but it was strained.

"What else?" I asked myself. "We talked a bit about what you said, about a hero only improving because an injury forced them to."

"And?"

I shrugged. "And nothing. I told her. She wasn't happy."

"Huh," Sophia said. "Figured she'd be over the moon."

"I guess she's just not that spiteful." Sophia shrugged. "So you said they've been rotating Wards around you?" I asked, looking for another topic.

"Yeah. Guard duty. The clusterfuck going on out there has the PRT going crazy, and someone got it into their head that I might be at risk from… something. Like, I guess there's some risk something might have leaked between Shadow Stalker being admitted to the hospital, then moved back to the PRT building, then I'm smuggled back to the hospital and released home, but honestly, who's going to come after some dumb kid in a sickbed?" Sophia bounced her arm on the bed for emphasis. "Like Taylor said; this is the kind of thing you wish on an enemy. They don't need to do much else."

She leaned forward conspiratorially, and I leaned towards her in turn. "I think someone might just be trying to stick Vista somewhere she can't get hurt," she whispered.

"Is there much risk of that?"

"Probably not, the way they keep us in 'safe' areas, but the city's looking a lot less safe these days. Can I have the remote back yet?" Sophia held out a hand, and I surrendered it without further fuss, but she didn't turn the TV back on immediately.

"How are you doing?" I asked again.

"Fine," she insisted. "Panacea took care of all the physical problems, but the docs spent all week running all these tests and crap, scans and brain maps and whatnot, over and over. Try to figure out what's healing and what's not."

"And?" I asked hopefully.

"Prognosis is 'promising'. Doc thinks I'll be able to walk again. Said my brain had a lot of neoplasticity—"

"Neuroplasticity," I corrected automatically.

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes. "Point is, I'll get better. I'm getting better. I'm getting things back, slowly. Like being able to drink, getting better at hitting the right buttons on the TV remote. Still can't get food in my mouth every time, but I'm getting there." She gave me a slightly-lopsided smile. "It's like having to learn how to live all over again. Gonna have to learn how to walk. How to tie my shoes. It's a drag, but it's meaningful. Like, if you're gonna be reborn, you gotta grow up again, too."

"That's…" I stopped. It wasn't good, not good enough. "Uh…" I hesitated. "You know I'm a cape."

"Obviously."

"I… I don't want things to end up like this." I waved at the bed. "I called a friend—"

"Don't bother," she cut me off.

"It's not a bother!" I snapped. "I want to help!"

"Well maybe I don't want your help!" she snapped back.

That brought me up short. "Why not?"

"Because I… look… ugh, fuck this." Sophia paused. "Did you know that brain damage is sometimes associated with religious experiences?"

"Who told you that?"

"Trevor. My brother. I don't think you've met?" I shook my head. "I think he was making fun of me. Or maybe he was actually concerned, I dunno. Anyway, I wouldn't describe this as a religious experience. I hope this isn't what a religious experience feels like, or those folk are crazier than I thought. It's more like… like I'm making it spiritual and shit, because if I'm gonna suffer, I might as well suffer meaningfully. And… hah, you said it yourself. It's a pretty big change from how I used to act, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Well, if I'm going to change so much, I might as well find a higher power while I'm at it. Like… I know I said I was coming around, but who knows if I would have actually learned anything in the end. Who's to say this wasn't some divine 'get the fuck over yourself' signal, right?"

I frowned. "If God told me he did this to help make you a better person, I'd probably throw my drink in his face and tell him to fix it."

"You'd mouth off to God on my behalf, but you're scared of spiders?" she asked. "You have a very strange sense of self-preservation."

"I'm not scared of being hurt by spiders. I'm scared of the very concept of spiders."

"But not the concept of God."

"No…" I admitted. My 'concept of God' was a creepy, self-satisfied voice on a telephone who could probably use a punch in the face.

"Strange sense of self-preservation," Sophia repeated, having proved her point.

———X==X==X———​

Gang wars are a terrible spectator sport.

There was a lot of fighting. The Merchants—or rather, their capes—had decided to contest the trainyards, and lost. Meanwhile, the Empire was fighting a long, bloody battle to keep the Teeth from establishing a foothold in the southern areas of the city that Lisa had called the 'white trash neighborhoods': trailer parks and low-incoming housing intermingled with empty lots, liquor stores, pawn shops, and pay-day loan services. The area was both housing for the Empire's less discerning base and a large market for illegal pharmaceuticals, particularly oxy and amphetamines. The Empire didn't seem to care that their drugs would inevitably lead their customers to Merchant heroin and meth; then again, I shouldn't expect much long-term vision from neonazis in the first place.

Brian, Taylor, and I spent a lot of time in the loft, watching the violence grow steadily worse on the news. Lisa was busy elsewhere, but she kept updating her little Risk board, even redoing the entire thing when Alec accidentally threw his coat on it. Either she'd undersold its value, or she really needed the distraction.

The PRT and Protectorate were trying, I'd give them that much, but Lisa had been right. They were stuck reacting, arriving too late to do more than count the bodies and tally the damage. The closest the Protectorate came to being useful this week was when the Butcher cut off one of Battery's hands and turned Assault into a pincushion, because that was the first time the heroes actually managed to engage the Teeth parahumans at all. They were lucky to be serving in the same city as Panacea, or the wounds the Butcher's power left would have been career-ending; possibly life-ending.

After that, Lisa's prediction came true. They buckled down, doubled their patrols around the Boardwalk and upper Downtown, and left the slums and ghettos to the wolves. The gang war only got worse from there; it wasn't World War One in the streets, but every night, a dozen gang members from various sides ended up in the morgue. The first cape death had come Friday night, on the Teeth's side: someone named Gnashty. He'd been a brute, apparently, but that unfortunate level of brute where he was too tough for normal measures but not so tough that he could tank the A-level shit. In this case, he hadn't been brute enough to take one of Purity's beams, and ended up missing most of his important bits; specifically, his torso.

The reprisal involved firebombing a trailer park and killed eighteen people. It also put Armsmaster and Velocity in the hospital, which was the point at which the government had enough and declared a state of emergency. The mayor went on TV asking for the national guard and an enforced curfew; it hadn't happened yet, but at this rate it was only a matter of time. The entire city was slowly but surely grinding to a halt, choking on the growing violence. Businesses were being forced to shut their doors as their employees cashed in their vacation time all at once. People weren't outright fleeing Brockton Bay yet, but it was getting to that point. The debate over deploying the national guard became statewide news, and even national networks began to take notice of the increasingly terrible state of the city.

———X==X==X———​

"There are definitely fewer people than normal," Taylor said. She, Lisa, and I were spending Saturday on the Boardwalk, wandering around looking at shops and stalls. Downtown was still under the shrinking aegis of the Protectorate, the Boardwalk most of all, but the news coverage wasn't doing anything good for the Bay's already-fading tourism industry.

"People are staying indoors. Not all of them, obviously," Lisa added as we ducked around a large crowd of college-age kids, "but enough to be noticeable."

"Yeah." Taylor paused in front of a bookstore; at my encouraging nod, she grinned and headed inside.

Lisa pulled me aside before I could follow. "You know, I think we might need to delay our project."

I didn't need to ask what she meant. "Having trouble?"

"No, I was more thinking that we should… leave resources available."

Translation: Coil's power would help against the Teeth. "I'll follow your lead."

Lisa nodded, and we followed Taylor into the store. Taylor ended up buying a novel and a book on dog behaviors; I guess she was already starting to look into Rachel. Lisa bought a cookbook.

"Thanks," Lisa said as I added the new loot to the load of purchases I was already carrying. "You sure are handy to have around."

"I try," I said with a smirk. "I'm a right bundle of tricks, right, Taylor?"

"Sure, I guess."

You have all sorts of crazy shit.

I cleared my throat nervously. "So, uh… about… you know."

"Problem?" Taylor asked.

"No, it's still coming along, but… I don't think she wants it."

She raised an eyebrow. "At all?"

"Yeah. I visited her again, and when I brought it up, she told me not to bother. Said she didn't want my help."

Taylor frowned. "You think she'd say the same thing if she had it in front of her?"

"I don't know." I sighed. "Speaking of… them… did you ever tell your dad what's been going on? Does he still think you and Emma are friends?"

"Maybe not anymore," Taylor said. "He finally noticed that I haven't had Emma over in more than a year. I said we haven't been speaking to each other. Which is… mostly true."

I snorted. "Why haven't you told him the rest?"

She looked down at the sidewalk. "I'm worried he'd do something stupid. He has a temper."

"So the punching-people-in-the-face is a hereditary thing?" I joked. She drew back her fist threateningly, and I pretended to cower under her glare until she stood down. "Seriously, though. You really think he'd attack a school-girl?"

"Of course not!" she said. "But he's been friends with Mr. Barnes since before me and Emma were born. I don't want to ruin that."

"That's his problem. It's not like her dad's involved in the bullying, right?"

"No…"

"Then maybe he can get her dad to knock some damn sense into her. Get her some therapy or something." Taylor didn't respond. "Wishful thinking, maybe. I dunno."

"I'm getting hungry," Lisa said, changing the topic. "There's a pizza place I want to try. Sound good?" Neither Taylor nor I had any objection, so Lisa pulled ahead to lead the way. I'd expected a by-the-slice take-out place, but it was actually a sit down restaurant, with menus and everything. I piled the purchases into the chair next to me; there was enough there to imitate a fourth person. The pizzas ranged from typical options like 'combination' or 'meat-lovers' to more exotic options like 'Thai Peanut Chicken'. Taylor and I hedged our bets with the simple stuff, while Lisa opted for something with hot peppers and honey on it.

"So, what have you guys been doing?" Taylor asked once we'd ordered our food.

"Watching the news," I said. "Trolling PHO sometimes. Playing games when Alec's asleep or needs a second player. What about you, Lisa?"

"Aside from Risk? I managed to figure out what that quote about Alec's hat was from." I offered her a high-five, which she callously ignored. "Why you insist on making such obscure references is beyond me."

"Firefly is obscure?"

"Maybe not for nerds," Taylor said.

I put my hand over my heart in mock pain. "You are at least as nerdy as I am."

"I read books, that makes me cultured. Why where you quoting an old Aleph show?"

"I trying to come up with nicknames for you guys, and I quoted the bit about Jayne's hat."

"Do I have a nickname?" she asked.

"Izoni."

"I'm going to look that up when we get home, you know," she warned me. "What the other ones?"

"Well I called Brian 'Bob' back we first met. Rachel is… I have a nickname for her, but it's not very flattering."

"The name she uses isn't very flattering either," Lisa pointed out.

"Yeah, that's true, but I'm not here to be rude—"

"Explain my nickname, then!"

"That's not rude at all!"

"What is it?" Taylor demanded.

"Don't you dare," Lisa warned me.

"She can tell me," Taylor said, "or I can guess."

"Or you could not," Lisa said. "Anyway, I got Alec's. You want to give me a hint on the other ones?"

I wasn't sure I could help her with Taylor's nickname, but I could give her a clue for Brian's. "Bob's a purely visual reference."

"Dresden Files."

That was fast. "You cheated."

"Obviously. Mostly by asking, 'What sort of books and shows would Kasey like?' and going from there."

I laughed. "I didn't realize you'd care that much."

"Of course I care. Not knowing things drives me nuts." And that is why you are so easy to tease. She sighed. "I don't read much; it doesn't take much to spoil the whole plot, and that's not much fun."

"At least I'm giving you some culture?"

"Dresden Files is not culture!"

———X==X==X———​

The moon had been nearly full when we'd moved the money; tonight, it was a half-disk partially obscured by the thin clouds covering the sky. A good night to sneak out. I helped Skitter climb down from her bedroom window, and we slipped away to meet the rest of the Undersiders a few blocks away, where they were waiting in another black van. Or maybe the same one I'd loaded the money into, with its dents buffed out and paint redone; the same man was driving. I was relieved to see he wasn't wearing sunglasses, this time, and yet also slightly disappointed for some reason I couldn't identify. I didn't pay much attention as Grue filled Skitter in on what to expect once we arrived; I already knew the drill. To be honest, I was kind of looking forward to it.

It was too bad I wasn't going to have a speaking part, but such was life.

———X==X==X———​
 
Chapter 23: Negotiations
Chapter 23: Negotiations


Every day since the Teeth's arrival had been violent, whether it was unpowered members shooting each other in the streets or capes wrecking havoc and smashing buildings. Despite being the clear power in the Bay, the Empire had been the focus of the Teeth offensive; it seemed the Butcher wanted to make it clear that she wasn't after low hanging fruit. That didn't mean that the rest of us could rest easy, though, because the entire city was suffering from the fighting, and the violence didn't stay in neat little arenas. After nearly a week, the local villains had had enough, and set a meet.

Everyone had their own reasons to attend. The Empire was reeling, and Kaiser was worried that the other players might sit back and watch his Empire lose everything they'd gained in the weeks since Lung's capture and then some. The ABB didn't want the Teeth to set up shop in the Bay any more than the Empire did, but they needed assurances that no one would take advantage of any gaps in their defenses before they could get involved; even with two new capes, they were at risk of being raided by the Merchants if they left their home turf to fight. Independents like us just wanted to make sure the Teeth didn't get a foothold and turn the Bay into an even bigger clusterfuck, because gang wars like this were bad for business. And, of course, Coil wanted to make sure everyone else took as much damage as possible from the coming conflict.

Well, everyone except us, if I understood his incentives correctly. Tattletale had been confident that keeping him around would be better for us in the short term, and I trusted her judgment. She had more reasons than anyone else to want him gone.

Somer's Rock was, from the outside, far less run down than I'd expected. Well, it was far less everything than I expected, 'remarkable' first and foremost. It certainly looked disreputable, but only as much as the other hole-in-the-wall business on the block, sandwiched as it was between a place offering psychic readings and crystal healing, and a pawn shop that practically screamed 'fence'. It had iron bars over the windows, but so did most of the storefronts on the block. The sign was faded, the paint was peeling, the curtains were drawn tight; but in the neighborhood we were in, those were the rules, rather than the exceptions. Only the psychic shop broke the pattern, windows unbarred and curtains open—probably because even criminals were smart enough not to steal literal rocks.

On the inside, however, the pub was a dump. I'm pretty sure a power washer would have changed the entire color scheme, if the gray counter, gray floor and walls, and gray-green curtains could be called a color scheme in the first place. The lights overhead were sickly and yellow, bright enough for vision but not bright enough for illumination; it was only barely brighter inside than the night outside. And of course, my power let me know exactly how thick the layer of grime was on everything I touched.

All the free-standing tables in the place had been pushed together into a single off-kilter line in the center of the room, surrounded by a dozen or so chairs, leaving only the booths around the outside wall free for those who weren't invited to the Big Table. Grue led us to a circular bench in the back corner that had room for all of us, where he made sure he was on the outside, so he could get up and attend the real meeting once more people started to show up.

We were the first ones to arrive; the only people present when we walked in were the staff. The deaf waitress walked over to our table and put her notepad down on the table. Tattletale took it first and wrote her drink order before passing it along. I didn't bother getting a drink.

We'd just been given our drinks when the door to the pub opened again. The Empire were the second group to arrive, after us, and the first of the major players. Kaiser was coated in metal like the Black Knight, one of the Valkyrie Twins on each arm. It was probably supposed to look impressive or dashing, but to me he looked like a twat in a tin can posing with a couple of playboy bunnies. Purity, Krieg, Hookwolf, and Stormtiger filed in after him.

The anti-glare filter on my visor let me see straight through Purity's blinding halo of light, which was most of her costume; underneath, she had a simple white leotard and no mask. I couldn't actually see her face as anything other than a silhouette, but that was probably a lot more clarity than most people would get. She was putting out an order of magnitude more light than the entirety of the piss-poor lighting in the pub, which gave me a better look at the rest of Kaiser's coterie. Hookwolf and Stormtiger were a pair of walking neonazi stereotypes; shirtless, tattooed, and hairy, with masks of their chosen animal to hide their faces. Krieg, meanwhile, looked like he'd wandered off the set of a World War Two film where he was playing a concentration camp guard with a gas mask fetish.

Kaiser claimed the head of the table, farthest from the door, with his followers taking the benches directly behind him. "Seven," Tattletale muttered, squinting against the glare as she stared at the table of Nazis. I wondered what she was learning from who he'd chosen to bring.

Faultline and her crew were the next major players to arrive. She was wearing a smaller, half-face mask this time, allowing me to see her mouth twist in distaste when she spotted me sitting at the Undersiders' table. Her backup was the pair of Case 53's in her employ, commonly (and derogatorily) known as 'monstrous capes.' One of them was a boy about my age who looked mostly normal, except for being bright orange and having a prehensile tail almost as long as he was tall. The other was even more visibly abnormal, a heavy-set, sluglike man with snail-shell growths on his skin, and flesh that was translucent enough to reveal his bones and organs. Newter and Gregor.

The group took the long way around the room to their bench, giving Faultline a chance to stop and address me. "Flux. Seems you decided to find a team after all."

I shrugged. "They made a good offer."

"More's the pity." She sneered at Tattletale. "I suppose every dog has her day." Bitch growled, missing the subtext entirely. Faultline ignored her and head back the way she'd come, showing her team to a booth before setting herself down halfway along the table where she could shoot dirty looks at us.

"Faultline make you an offer?" Regent asked me.

"Not as such. Why?"

"Tattletale's been feuding with her. Not sure why Faultline hates Tattle, but Tats hates it when people are smarter than her, like Faultline is. Ow!" He grunted as Tattletale kicked him under the tale. "Anyway, she poached Spitfire from us when our recruitment went bad. I guess now we've turned the tables, since we got you out from under whatever she was planning."

The door opened again to admit Circus, dressed in their red and yellow Jester motley, who headed for the center table before thinking better of it and sitting down in an empty booth instead.

"That's Circus," Tattletale said to Skitter. "Independent thief. Grab bag cape: super-acrobat with a pocket dimension and pyrokinesis."

"Odd to see her here," I muttered, defaulting to female pronouns for the female-dressed genderfluid cape. "She mostly avoids fights. Prefers to hit and run."

"Not that surprising. If we don't push the Teeth out hard and fast, we're going to see a lot more fights in the future."

"Who invited her, though?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Who knows? It's not like we have a guest list."

The ABB delegation came next. Their new leader was a woman who called herself Shinigami. Maybe I should have called her a girl; she was probably only fourteen or so, and how she'd arrived at the head of the organization was anyone's guess. She wore a lacy black dress, her long hair falling free over parts of her face like a ghost from a Japanese horror movie. Her 'mask' was a black blindfold over empty eye sockets. Rumors were that she'd triggered after a couple of Empire thugs had decided to 'get rid of her squint' with a knife. I recognized Oni Lee, but the man on her other side wearing a Noh mask was a complete unknown. The trio paused in the doorway for a moment before Shinigami led them purposefully towards the table.

"She's not blind," Tattletale said. "Well, she is, she's got no eyes, but she can still see. Power-based. Wider than a normal field of view but not omnidirectional. Her primary power is a blaster effect that originates from her eyes. Hard to control; the blindfold helps. Psychosomatic. Easier to hold the power back when she's got something physically touching her face."

"The rumors?" Grue asked.

"True, or close enough. This is going to be tense." Shinigami walked up to the end of the table and took the seat at the opposite head. Unlike the Empire and Faultline's crew, both of her lieutenants took seats, one on either side. Oni Lee was on the opposite side, facing me, but I could only see the back of the other one's head. "Oni Lee, you know. The other one hasn't given a name yet. People called him Samurai because he had a sword the first time he went out, but he never used it, and hasn't had it since. Hasn't shown any powers—"

"Shh," Grue hissed. Shinigami was speaking.

"Emperor. You must be truly desperate, to sit at my table." Definitely young—fourteen was probably the high estimate. The way she spoke was completely at odds with her youth; she sounded focused, controlled, and perfectly collected. Regal, in a word, with a Japanese accent that was noticeable without quite being 'strong'. Her tone was soft in a way that demanded attention, forced people to stop what they were doing to hear her, and the scorn with which she addressed Kaiser was unmistakable.

"Shinigami. Your situation must have vastly improved, if you believe this is your table," Kaiser rumbled from inside his helmet, meeting scorn with contempt.

"Improved? Hardly. Consider our positions." She swept an arm out in a grand gesture that encompassed the whole room, and seemingly the entire city beyond it. "When all are threatened, it is the weakest among us who benefit most from coming together." There was slight scraping of metal against metal as Kaiser's fists tightened in his gauntlets. Beside me, Tattletale made a choked sound and covered her mouth with her fist to help resist resist the urge to start talking over the girl.

The conversation was interrupted by Coil's arrival, anyway. He came alone, tall and thin like a scarecrow, his black bodysuit and snake motif only accentuating the off-season halloween theme. He paused when he saw that both ends of the table were taken, then walked over and sat down across from Faultline.

Grue waited to see if the conversation at the main table would pick up, but the ABB and Empire representatives remained locked in silent stalemate. "I need to grab a seat before the table fills up. What have you learned, Tattletale?"

"Shinigami's taking cues from the mystery guy, somehow. He's support, not a puppet-master; she's using him to write her speeches, but the authority is all hers." That was interesting; it would have been less surprising if she was just a figurehead. "Theatre kid, gifted, probably used to leading roles but not improv—"

"Focus, Tats," Grue whispered. "What about the guy?"

She huffed in annoyance. "Right. Him. That bit she said to Kaiser, he planned that—including Kaiser's response and Shinigami's reply. They came late on purpose, to make sure there would be an audience for that bit. He's good; his plan worked perfectly. By admitting weakness, she's basically set herself as the leader of this entire meeting. If Kaiser tries to argue, he's either implying that the ABB aren't as weak as she says, or that the Empire needs the ABB more than the ABB needs the Empire. Either one would make him look bad, and his ego can't take that hit."

"How's he communicating?" Grue asked.

Tattletale furrowed her brow, eyes darting back and forth between Shinigami and the mystery cape. "I think he might be an illusionist, creating cue cards for her in her head. He may actually be how she can see; she didn't move from the door until he'd looked around the room. I think that's it; he's creating an illusionary room for her to navigate and updating it in real time. She can see anything he sees, but nothing he doesn't. She's communicating back somehow, too, but I'm not sure how."

"That's interesting, but not very useful for negotiating," he said. "Do you have any advice for me before I go?"

"Sit between Coil and the ABB cape. You shouldn't have too much trouble." She started ticking people off on her fingers. "Shinigami's got a lot of political cleverness at her back, and she needs this, so she's going to be agreeable. Kaiser knows anyone who walks away is one less body between the Empire and the Teeth, and he doesn't have anything personal against us. Faultline hates me, but she's too much of a professional to take it out on you. And Coil's a chessmaster; if he thinks he can use you, he'll act like your best friend. Long story short, everyone will at least fake wanting you here. You remember what I told you about when and how to speak?"

"Yeah, I got it. Thanks." Grue got up and headed to the seat Tattletale had pointed out.

"That's a hell of an ability," I said as Grue walked off. "God, fighting illusionists is the worst. If you can't find a way to reliably figure out what's real, you've already lost. Is it visual only?"

"I don't know. I'm grasping at straws to get that much. I don't know if he can affect multiple targets, either; if not, he can't do anything without leaving Shinigami blind."

"What exactly is her power, anyway?" Skitter asked.

"It's a line-of-sight blaster attack—no pun intended, sorry. Indiscriminate, hard to control, and extremely lethal. If she takes off the blindfold, run. Run and don't look back."

"Shit," I muttered. "Heavy hitter?"

"Very heavy. Too heavy; she doesn't have a non-lethal setting. Her power is supposed to work through her eyes, but the fact that she doesn't have eyes fucked it up."

"But what does it do?" Skitter insisted.

"Some sort of matter-rearrangement effect. She can do it to anyone with line of sight to her eye sockets, and has trouble not doing it to everyone in line of sight to her eye sockets without her blindfold. Thin materials like clothes aren't enough to block the effects; that's how I knew the cloth was psychosomatic."

"Define 'matter-rearrangement effect', captain technobabble," Regent said.

"Turns people inside out. She left the thugs who'd just carved out her eyes as steaming piles of gore," Tattletale said flatly. "Manton-limited to living beings and whatever they have on them, but it'll kill anyone it hits. Shinigami can be translated as 'God of Death', and she deserves the title."

"Fuck," he said.

"Fuck," I agreed.

"How many people has she killed?" Skitter asked.

"Only three that I'm sure." Tattletale said. "The two thugs and Alabaster."

"Wait, Alabaster's dead?" I asked.

"Yeah. He hasn't been seen since Thursday despite the Empire and Teeth still going blow for blow down south, and the people Kaiser showed up with confirmed it for me." Tattletale grinned as she answered the question I was about to ask. "She's never been seen outside of ABB territory, so he must have tried to assassinate her or something and gotten… inverted."

"Who's he?" Skitter asked. I turned to follow her gaze; another cape had joined Circus at her booth. I'd been so focused on Tattletale's exposition I hadn't noticed him come in. He had a dark gray suit with an orange lightning bolt across the front and back, and a cape to match. His skin color made him look Latino; a rarity in Brockton.

"Hertz." Tattletale told us. "Low-grade electrokinetic striker. Treat him like a normal guy with a stun gun."

"How much juice can he put out?"

"Not sure. Probably not much; he's small fry. An out-of-towner, came through a few days ago and decided to stick around for the meeting. Wanted to see if anyone would pay him to get involved." An opportunist, then; or, from another point of view, a wandering fighter looking for quests in a bar. Hertz pulled a penny out of his pocket and started flipping it and catching it with one hand, to Circus' visible annoyance.

The door opened again to reveal the least popular villains in the Bay. Not the Merchants; they at least had customers. Uber and Leet walked into the room, took a look around, and then headed for the center table. They were dressed as Mario and Luigi, which was surprising only in how little imagination it showed. Kaiser cleared his throat loudly as the pair pulled out the chairs between him and Faultline.

"I will tolerate one of you idiots at this table," he said. The pair exchanged a glance; Uber gave his partner a meaningful nod, and Leet sighed and headed off to an equally frosty reception from Circus and Hertz at what was now the independent booth. He found his own booth instead. "Aren't you the wrong one?" Kaiser snarked at the Luigi impersonator, showing a hitherto unrevealed knowledge of popular culture.

Uber didn't get a chance to respond before the door opened again, and this time it was the Merchants: Skidmark, Mush, and Squealer. Uber and Leet might be unpopular, but they still weren't as despicable as these three. I didn't believe the rumors about the Merchants forcibly addicting people—because they wouldn't need to give away drugs in a shithole city like this—but they were still utterly contemptible all the same. I don't think they had a full set of teeth between them. Skidmark had a mask—more of a rag, really—across his upper face with crudely cut holes for eyes. Squealer had a pair of heavy goggles and a bandana across her dirty blonde hair—dirty in this case meaning filthy and unwashed. Mush looked like someone had photoshopped a caucasian skin tone onto Gollum from the Lord of the Rings movies, and wasn't even wearing a mask at all.

Skidmark headed straight for the center table, but his hand was still reaching out for the chair when Kaiser kicked it aside, knocking it over and sending it sliding across the grimy wooden floor. "The fuck was that?" Skidmark yelled.

"Take a booth," Kaiser said.

"Fuck off, tin man. This 'cause I'm black, right? That your deal?"

"You can sit in a booth because you and your gang are pathetic, diseased scum who were only invited to this meeting out of the basic courtesy you all lack," Kaiser said slowly, like he was speaking to a dimwitted child. "I don't like the other people at this table—I don't even necessarily respect them—" he nodded his helmet slightly towards Uber as he said this, "—but I can accept that they are worth my… tolerance. You are not."

"Fuck you!" He looked over the other capes sitting at the table. "I don't know half of these motherfuckers. You, blind girl. You gonna let the walkin' can speak for you?"

Shinigami wrinkled her nose in disgust. "He is right about this much: you were invited to this meeting as a courtesy, nothing more. If you wish to attend, find a booth."

"Cunt. What about you, asshole?" he asked Grue. "I ain't never seen you before. The fuck you do to earn a seat, huh?"

"He and his crew knocked over the Brockton Central Bank two weeks ago," Faultline said. "It's a demonstration of competence, although perhaps a poor use of their time. What have you done?"

"We hold territory—"

"You hold nothing," Grue said. "You have the areas too poor and worthless for others to take from you. Find. A. Booth."

"Bull-fucking-shit." Skidmark pointed a badly stained finger at Uber. "You let this cocksucker at the table!"

"He has enough manners to string together a paragraph without embarrassing himself," Kaiser said. "And I can't smell him, unlike you. Find a booth or get out."

"Mother fuckers," Skidmark growled. "Motherfucking shitstained, puckered assholes, every last one of you." He turned and stormed out the door, Squealer hot on his heels. Mush didn't seem to notice his boss's departure, and took a seat at the booth closest to the entrance.

"Does Faultline really believe we only made off with twenty grand, or was she just being obnoxious?" I asked Tattletale.

"Does it matter?" she asked in response. "The meeting should be starting now. No, wait, they're waiting for one more." I frowned. GUARD should have intercepted the Travelers back in Boston; either something had gone wrong, or there was another party in play.

My question was answered when the door opened again, revealing, yes, Trickster and the Travelers, all in matching red and black costumes. Trickster wore a suit like a stage magician, complete with a top hat, with a red mask covering most of his face. Sundancer was to his left, sun motif clearly displayed, while to his right was a man I assumed was Ballistic, tall and gawky, with broken red lines running across his costume and a mask that left his eyes visible. The last member in was Genesis, currently in the form of a massive, six-limbed semi-bipedal lizard with an angular, draconic face. "I think I'll be taking a seat," Trickster announced, drawing the rest of the room's attention.

"The Travelers, yes?" Coil asked. He seemed to be trying to turn the table ninety degrees, making himself the center of the discussion and relegating the ethnic gang leaders at the supposed 'heads' of the table to the outskirts. I got distracted imagining a version of The Last Supper with him as Christ, Undersiders and Travelers around him, Tattletale in place of Judas, and missed most of Coil's back-and-forth with Trickster.

"Please, continue as if I'm not here," Trickster said as he picked up the chair Kaiser had kicked over and brought it back to the table. His teammates took the booth between us and Faultline's Crew; there were only two booths left, now, and one space at the table. At Kaiser's gesture, Purity got up and sat down on his right, filling the final spot.

"I believe that is everyone," Coil said. He paused for a moment to allow people to object. No one did. "I trust we are all aware of the subject of tonight's meeting?"

"The Teeth," Kaiser said.

"Indeed," Shinigami said, preempting Coil's response. "While we all have our grievances with other members of this meeting, we can settle our issues among ourselves once the crisis has passed. The Teeth are invaders, and they must be cast out."

"I'm glad we see eye to eye," Kaiser said.

Shinigami wasn't quite able to hide the flash of anger that crossed her face before she schooled it into a patronizing smile. "Such petty barbs. Perhaps you have not put aside our feud after all?"

"The Teeth are our targets, here," Coil said, cutting across the byplay. "I believe we should start by reviewing what we know of their members. Faultline, you've had some contact with them in your excursions out of the city, correct?"

"Correct."

"If you would?"

"Why Faultline?" Grue asked. "Surely the Empire would know more, having spent more than a week fighting them?"

"It has not been a fight," Kaiser growled. "Their capes hide behind the Butcher's power like children. If we don't kill the bitch, she's free to do as she wishes; if we were to kill the bitch, we lose one of ours to her possession, and we're right back where we started with a stronger Butcher." He glared around the table. "That is why we're here: to deal with the Butcher. None of us can handle her alone."

"Nevertheless, it would behoove us to review the members we will be fighting," Coil said. "Faultline?"

Faultline cleared her throat. "You've probably all heard of the Butcher, but for the sake of thoroughness: the first Butcher had a weak brute power, the ability to inflict pain to anyone he could see, and the ability to transfer his consciousness into the mind of whoever killed him. The second Butcher was the first victim of that ability, and gained the first Butcher's powers, including that one. Every time one Butcher dies, the new Butcher inherits a portion of the old Butcher's powers. This is the fourteenth Butcher.

"Now, for the rest of the capes…" Faultline proceeded to run through the Teeth's current roster. Animos, a changer with a bestial form that gives him a scream that disables nearby powers. Hemorrhagia, a hemokinetic striker capable of controlling her own blood, forming armor and cutting implements. Pile, another changer, who gained increasing strength and toughness as well as temporary adaptations to enemy attacks. Spree, a master who creates a large volume of rapidly decaying clones, as many as four or five per second. Vex, a shaker who can fill an area with razor-sharp force-fields. Xerxes, another master, who created soldiers out of solid material near him.

Coil interrupted twice, when she began to describe a member who was no longer with the gang. Faultline leaned back in her chair once she was done. "That's current as of the new year, but I'm obviously out of date," she griped. I didn't blame her for the inaccuracies; the Teeth had a lot of turnover.

"Thank you," Coil said.

Shinigami cut him off before he could continue. "As Kaiser has admitted, none of us can oust the Teeth alone. At the very least, we need to establish a truce; an agreement that we will not further divide ourselves until the threat is removed." 'Admitted' was an interesting choice of words; even with talk of a truce, the verbal sparring continued.

"Not just a truce between us," Coil added, leaping in before she could further undermine his position as chairman. "A truce between us and the law. The Protectorate don't want the Teeth here any more than we do. The war is crippling the city. They need this war to end, sooner rather than later, and that puts us in a position to negotiate."

"Foolish," Shinigami said, at the same time Kaiser barked, "Don't be stupid." The two leaders faced off along the length of the table; despite neither having their eyes visible, I was sure they were both glaring as hard as they could.

"They have a point. The enemy of my enemy is not always a friend," Uber said. Listening to him speak, it was easy to forget he had a reputation on par with a unbagged dog turd; he'd tapped into a skill that gave him the charm of a consummate statesman. The Luigi costume lessened the effect a bit, though. "The Protectorate will lock us up just as surely as they do the Teeth. Assuming they can; they've done a terrible job of stopping gang violence thus far."

"I am willing to reach out to the PRT. We agree to limit our illegal activities to the minimum required for our business and avoid violence between us, in exchange for them focusing their attention on the Teeth in our… future engagements. Is that fair?"

"You believe they would agree?" Shinigami asked. "What would they gain?"

"Nothing," Uber answered. "The weaker we are, the better for them. If they kick the Teeth out while leaving us alone, it just lets the current powers dig in." He gestured between the two heads of the table as he spoke, acknowledging who the 'current powers' were.

"Don't mistake their public mission for their private interests," Coil said smoothly. "The status quo always benefits those in power, because it doesn't endanger that power. Politicians are always reluctant to change, for worse or better."

"We are not politicians," Kaiser spat. "Nor are we fighting them. The Protectorate will continue their ineffective meddling whatever you offer them. Unless you have access to the Director or her staff, you're all talk." He tilted his head. "Do you have that sort of pull?"

"The nature of my resources is not the concern, here," Coil said testily. "Are we willing to offer a truce to the law? This is not a question of whether or not you think they will accept," he growled as Uber opened his mouth to argue. "Are you willing to offer such a truce?"

Uber shrugged. "You're welcome to try."

"We are," Shinigami said. "Anything which resolves the situation more quickly should be pursued."

"We don't have any day-to-day operations to interrupt," Grue said.

"Our 'day-to-day operations' are not the sort the PRT are concerned with," Faultline agreed.

"Ridiculous, all of you," Kaiser grumbled. "You want us to shut down our operations for aid from the very people who should have put a stop to this the moment it began. A toothless, decaying organization rotting in the bay with the rest of the ships."

"You're forgetting what they have to offer," Coil argued. "We are villains; when we fight, the winner walks away, and the loser limps home or dies. The Protectorate has the means to contain people like Lung. Like the Butcher." Kaiser didn't rebut, although his tin-can suit made it impossible to tell whether he'd accepted the argument or given up trying to make the others see reason.

"Then it is decided," Shinigami said, wresting control of the meeting back from Coil. "Coil will reach out to the law. We lose nothing if they refuse.

"Now, onto the matter of strategy. The Butcher is their strongest asset, someone we have no counter for, but she is only one person. No matter how fast she moves, she is still limited to one fight at a time. The answer is clear."

"Multiple simultaneous deep strikes," I mumbled. Tattletale kicked me under the table.

"We hit them all at once," Uber said, spotting the plan. "We hit them everywhere. We target their supplies, their muscle, their capes, their hideouts, all at once."

Grue picked up the thread. "The Butcher can defend one target, but the others fall."

"Then we do it again," Shinigami agreed. "Night after night, until there is nothing left for them here."

"That will suffice for strategy," Coil said. "Now, for the actual plan—"

"Different teams have different strengths," Uber said. "Leet is the only tinker here, so whatever you may feel about us, we'll be providing the miracles."

Grue chimed in. "We have the mobility to serve as scouts, and one of the few Thinkers in the Bay. We can find them, wherever they hide." He turned to look at Faultline.

"Let me be up front about this," she said. "We're not getting involved unless it's on contract. That's the only way to run this sort of business. We don't take sides, ideological or geographical. Even if that means working for the Teeth."

"Unfortunate, but perhaps we can work something out. That goes for our freelancers, as well," Coil added with a nod towards Circus and Hertz. "Many of us have a stake in the outcome of this war, I'm sure."

"It is unfortunate that my power is ill suited for civilized conflict." Shinigami said. "It is… difficult to control, and does not offer any finesse. The mere threat has sufficed in the past; it may do so again. And if it does not…" She let the thought hang in the air.

"I will be coordinating the strikes," Coil said. "My men will accompany each group and provide intelligence and support. I am willing to devote the majority of my available men to the task, as I have no other capes to offer."

"Then the alliance is sealed," Shinigami said. She leaned forward and offered a hand to Coil. He shook it, then shook Kaiser's hand as well. All along the table, each of the seated leaders shook every other's hands, with the exception of Kaiser and Shinigami. The fact that they hadn't stood out like a sore thumb, as did the fact that no one was willing to comment on it.

"Funny," Tattletale said. "They're already planning how stab each other in the back. Even Uber is looking for his angle."

With the pact sealed, such as it was, Coil managed to bring the meeting around to planning, suffering the occasional interruption by Uber. Kaiser and Shinigami remained locked in silent stalemate as the meeting turned to the various approaches to safehouses and stashes, how Coil would be running communications, and what to do when the Butcher appeared. The answer to the last one was 'withdraw until she leaves, then go back to attacking'. Coil made sure to emphasize communication again, stressing the importance of tracking the Butcher and making himself indispensable in the coming war.

"A sound plan," Kaiser admitted, once the planning stage had wound down. "What guarantee do we have that you will all follow through?" He made up for his face-concealing helmet by sneering vocally. "We have been alone in our fight until now; I want to make sure we'll be able to tell the difference."

"Simple," Coil said immediately. "We shuffle our teams, making sure every team has members from as many organizations as possible. That way, we all have a stake in every team's success, and anyone who betrays us leaves their teammates surrounded by enemies." He turned to address Kaiser directly. "This would naturally result in the Empire having more capes in each group than the other gangs."

"Leaving the Empire with the heaviest commitment of force," Kaiser said. "Don't try to make it sound like a concession. You are placing the burden on us."

"Perhaps someone needs to remind the Emperor of his noblesse oblige," Shinigami responded airily.

"I didn't realize the ABB was French—"

"We will all be deploying our full force," Coil interjected. "The situation is simply that—"

"—but that certainly explains why we rolled over you—!"

"—the Empire has more to offer—"

"—only thing you scum share with the Wehrmacht is—!"

The door slammed open, silencing the argument as everyone turned to stare at the new arrivals. The Butcher strode into the room, dressed in her weird blend of tribal/headhunter/samurai armor, holding a massive bow taller than she was like a staff. The rest of the Teeth filed in after her, five men and two women. Animos, Hemorrhagia, Pile, Spree, Vex, Xerxes—I didn't know which was which—plus another we hadn't heard of.

Butcher stopped a few feet away from the table and threw something onto the surface. Even Kaiser flinched slightly as Skidmark and Squealer's heads rolled to a stop in the center of the meeting table, dribbling blood. The sickening, wet sounds of the heads coming to rest left dead quiet in their wake.

Coil broke the silence. "You were not invited," he said simply. Butcher's face twitched and spasmed as the voices in her head argued about how to respond.

She settled on, "So?"

"Rude, not to invite us," one of the other Teeth said. He had more bones on his costume than most, and was leaning on the haft of a crudely-made battleaxe. The floor of the pub seemed to be suffering from its mere touch. "We're as much a part of this city as you are."

"Reaver," Tattletale whispered. "Entropy striker, works through weapons."

"You are no part of any city," the nameless ABB cape said, his voice soft and effeminate. "You are vagrants, homele—" He squawked and toppled off his chair as the Butcher scowled at him.

The air in the room grew even colder at the display of power. Butcher smirked, daring anyone to make an issue of it.

Shinigami pushed her chair back from the table and stood with deliberate slowness. "That was poorly done," she said. "This is neutral ground. The use of powers is forbidden here."

There was another pause as the Butcher reached consensus. "So?" she asked again.

"I suggest you leave. Now."

"Because everyone gangs up on rule breakers, right?" Reaver asked. "Like you were gonna do anyway? Scary."

"Because it invites reprisal," Shinigami said, raising her hands to the knot in her blindfold. At the other end of the table, Purity flared brighter and floated off her seat into the air. I couldn't tell whether she was getting ready to support Shinigami or swat her down.

"She's bluffing," Tattletale mouthed. You could have heard a pin drop in the silence as Shinigami slowly, carefully worked the knot out. She's gotta be bluffing. The knot came undone. Fuck, fuck. She's not bluffing. The capes in the various booths in her field of view averted their eyes, as though the power required eye contact. I was very, very glad we were looking at her back. The blindfold fell away.

Nothing happened.

"This is your last warning," Shinigami said. "Leave."

"Or what?" Reaver asked. He hefted his axe onto his shoulder and took half a step forward before he imploded, a chunky mass of ropey gore and warped bones spraying backwards and painting the booth behind him with blood and viscera. Leet had just enough warning to duck under the table and avoid being covered in dead cape or joining him as wallpaper. The Teeth woman to Reaver's left screamed as her arm blew apart from spilled-over power; the blood gushing forth twisted and flowed back onto her arm, covered the stump like a massive scab. Hemorrhagia. Reaver's axe head buried itself into the wooden floor with a thunk, rotting the wood around it at its touch. The haft had been reduced to splinters.

Butcher twitched madly as she continued her staredown with Shinigami. "You can't kill me," she said. "I win. Always."

"If you wish to rule a mound of corpses," Shinigami replied. At some unseen signal, she barked, "Don't," causing one of the other Teeth to recoil like he'd been slapped.

"You die," Butcher said. "All of you. Die." She turned and walked out the door. Hemorrhagia was next, still cradling the stump of her right arm. The rest of the Teeth followed.

The last member of the Teeth to leave stopped in the doorway and turned back around to address Shinigami. "I'm going to kill you slowly, you who—!" Only his head exploded, leaving his headless body to topple into the street. The door slammed shut of its own accord.

Purity returned to her seat, dimming down to her normal glow. Shinigami remained motionless, staring at the door, until Oni Lee stood and retrieved her blindfold from the floor, tying it back in place with practiced ease. No sooner had he fastened it over her eyes than the young girl toppled backwards, fainting into his arms. Kaiser held his tongue as the ninja bridal-carried her back to the table, where the Noh-masked man was still getting to his feet. Leet poked his head out from under the table, quivering in fear; he was coated in blood and missing his hat.

"I believe this meeting is adjourned," Coil said, his unflappable demeanor badly strained by the showdown. Kaiser and the Empire got up headed out the front door. One of the Nazi capes stopped to talk to Coil for a moment, but I couldn't tell who it was or what was said in the general milling about.

Tattletale lead us out of the booth towards Grue, who was lingering to listen to the discussion between Coil and Faultline. "She broke the truce," Coil was saying in the manner of someone repeating a point. "You are obligated to respond, just by virtue of having attended the meeting at all."

"The problem was resolved," Faultline argued. "Thoroughly." Her eyes flicked to the smear that had been Reaver, then back to the severed heads that were still on the table. "You may rest assured that we will not be cooperating with the Teeth, at least. Not after that display."

"What the hell happened there?" I asked no one in particular.

"Skidmark was pissed enough to go tell the Teeth about the meeting," Tattletale said. "I really didn't think he'd be stupid enough to march up to the Butcher and tell her that he was invited to a conspiracy against her, but… he was."

"We're heading out the back," Grue said, leaving the two villains to their discussion. Trickster and the Travelers were already heading that way. "Hold up," he called. "I'll check if it's clear."

"Many thanks," Trickster said, tipping his hat. "Wouldn't do to be ambushed now, of all times." Grue filled the last few feet of corridor with darkness, then stepped into it. A moment later, the cloud vanished, and we headed out into the alley. Trickster pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offered it around. When no one accepted his offer, he put the pack back and held his out to Genesis, who lit it with a tongue of flame from her mouth. "Ah," he sighed, puffing away through the mouth-hole in his mask. "That was certainly more interesting than I'd expected."

"That's one way to put it," I said. I took a moment to check on the other Undersiders; Grue was arguing with Bitch about something, Tattletale was lost in thought, Regent seemed bored, and Skitter was completely fascinated by Genesis.

"You're a cape?" she asked. Genesis nodded. "Oh." Skitter seemed disappointed, which made Sundancer laugh.

"She wants to touch you," she told Genesis. Genesis chuffed and stepped forward, lowering her head so Skitter could run her hand over the scales. Sundancer grinned. "See? She doesn't mind."

"This is so cool."

I turned back to Trickster and Ballistic, who had stuck near me. "We haven't been introduced. I'm Flux."

"Trickster, of the Travelers," Trickster said as we shook hands.

"Perdition, of the same," the man I'd assumed was Ballistic said. "We've heard of you; I believe we have some friends in common. Helped someone we know get back on her feet, so to speak." His eyes flicked over to Genesis for a moment as he spoke.

Ah. So that was how things had played out. "Always good to have friends," I said with a smile.

———X==X==X———​
 
Chapter 24: Hook
Chapter 24: Hook


"Feel better?" Diane asked.

"Not really."

Sunday. The day after the meeting saw Emily, Diane, and I sitting in our yard in the bright morning sun. I was trying very hard to come to terms with last night.

"It was just… boom. He's there and then he's gone. Just fucking gone."

It wasn't that he'd died. I'd seen people die before. I'd been responsible for it. I'd had a year to acclimate to combat; lewd combat, for much of it, and all the more disturbing for it.

It wasn't the mess, although that hadn't helped. Dead bodies are one thing; seeing a live person reduced to giblets was another. That wasn't the part that had stuck me with, though.

It was the fact that she could do that to me and my entire team, and there is nothing I could do to stop it. My power wasn't going to block that. It was a save-or-die effect without the save.

The PRT listed Shinigami as a blaster 9+, with a notice not to approach under any circumstances. Ace said the Directors were currently arguing about what to do if she demanded Lung's release, with the options breaking down into 'give up and release Lung' and 'kill her before she kills us all'. The optimists hoped that she wouldn't want the old boss back. Piggot had the paperwork requesting a kill order written up already, waiting only for her signature and submission.

The fact that she was closer to Dinah's age than mine had made me forget that she was the most dangerous cape in the Bay, including Lung. Man, what was it with the ABB and getting single, ludicrous capes?

"Unfortunately, I can't help much," Diane said. "It's fiat related, so I can't affect it directly." How the hell was being terrified by seeing someone get blown away by a monstrously strong blaster fiat related'? "It's hitting your trigger trauma," she explained. "The idea that people can just be… ended, without warning—it's similar to what happened to you. Well, local you. You're imagining losing your team, the way you lost your old friends."

I groaned; her explanation had only made the feeling more noticeable. "I'll be all right," I said, trying to convince myself. "I have to be. We start tomorrow." Coil was probably going to try to keep us alive, anyway.

"You will be alright," Emily repeated. "I'm not going to let you die. Any of you. Trust me."

"I do." A lot more than I trusted Coil, certainly. Still…

Boom.

———X==X==X———​

Thinking about Coil reminded me that I still had close to forty grand sitting in a shady account somewhere, and I decided to use it. After a thorough background check—by which I mean a quick call to Max and the use of his various thinker-type perks—I rang up the Number Man and had the entire account donated to a charity offering aid to victims of parahuman violence. God knows there was a lot of that going around, lately.

And since my mind was in free-association mode, I followed that train of thought to Jenn and the potion I'd asked for. Karl directed me to the library, a building that I'd woefully neglected thus far. It had—if I remembered Max's tour correctly—more or less every bit of media from every world he'd ever visited. Come to think of it, I should really ask when he started Jumping. For all I knew, he could have left from his version of 1990 and watched my show in reruns sometime in the 2030s on another jump entirely. I was going to end up blowing my own mind at this rate, so I pushed my speculation aside and refocused on my actual goal.

Now that I was paying attention again: the library was huge. Stupidly huge. The ceiling was probably a hundred feet overhead, and the heavy oak shelves stood twenty feet apart to fit the ladders that let you climb that high. It would have been exceedingly inconvenient if not for the fact that most people around here probably had some method of flight handy. Other than the extravagant scale, the library was pretty plain. The floor was the sort of no-actual-pattern fuzz carpeting I associated with airports, offices, and other uncomfortably shared spaces; and the shelves were polished but otherwise free of decoration besides the books they bore.

I wandered through the aisles for a while, torn between admiring the scale of the place and quietly doubting that anyone could ever find anything, before I found a severely dressed 20-something Chinese woman pouring over three massive tomes. "Excuse me," I said, "have you seen Jenn?"

The woman looked at me in confusion for a moment, then laughed and disappeared, revealing Jenn as I knew her. "Hiya, Kasey!" she said.

"Hi," I said, baffled. "I didn't recognize you."

"I saw!" She grinned. "I usually stick to forms my age, but it's easier to carry larger books when I'm bigger. Leverage, you know?"

I was only sort of listening to the end of her explanation. "Your age?" I repeated.

She shrugged. "I'm only as old as I feel."

"Right." Immortality apparently did weird things to people, but I could roll with that. "I was wondering how the potion was going."

"It's going," Jenn said. "I was right about one thing: my first idea was a dead end. So was the second. I'm currently on my third." She rapped her knuckles on the page she'd been reading from. "I'm pretty sure this will work, though. It's got just enough science to it that the power-down drawback shouldn't cripple it once I work out the kinks. Another week, probably."

"Great. Thanks again, really. I can't thank you enough."

"Don't worry about it," she said. "This was a great puzzle. I'm a little curious why you didn't just use the medical pod, though."

"Ah." I shifted uncomfortably, scratching the back of my neck with one hand. "I, uh, figured this would be easier to explain. You know, tinker-tech drug, or whatever."

"Makes sense to me," Jenn said happily. "Don't worry about me, Cass. Go have fun."

"See you later," I said, trying to ignore the way her parting words had my stomach in a knot.

———X==X==X———​

I burned off my nervous energy running more combat sims. I was seriously tempted to bring a gun to the fight tomorrow, no matter how ill-mannered it may be. The Bank Job had been child's play; Shadow Stalker's tragic injury aside, the stakes had been as low as they got in the cape business.

Four capes had died last night.

The jump in difficulty after finishing the intermediate courses was hitting me like a brick, which wasn't helping my mood. I was attempting 'Action Hero, Advanced, Elimination, Scenario 01' for the eighth or ninth time when my phone buzzed. Meet at hq. I sent a confirmation and ended the course.

Back in Brockton Bay, the sun was setting. The streets were even more abandoned than normal for this time of night; it wasn't safe to be out after dark with the gangs in a full-blown war. The Undersiders were sitting on the couches: Rachel, Brian, and Lisa on one, Alec claiming the entirety of the other. I glared at him until he made room. "Where's Taylor?"

"At home," Lisa said. "Her dad's still awake, so she couldn't sneak out."

Brian cleared his throat. "I got a call from Coil," he said. "We—the, uh, 'home team', I guess—are forming five teams. There was a bunch of backroom dealing after the meeting broke up, but the upshot is that 'organizations' like us get to pair their members. There are six of us, so we'll only be on three of the teams.

"We don't get to choose which teams we're on," he continued, "and we don't know who we'll be working with, but we do get to stick with a teammate we work well with. So, the question is: who's going with who?"

"You have some thoughts already," Lisa said.

"Yeah. First, our heaviest hitters are Kasey, Rachel, and Taylor. We're sending people to three teams, so the obvious choice is to split them up. Sorry, Kasey," he added. "I know you two are a pair, but it makes the most sense."

"I understand," I said.

"Good. Second, our best escape avenues are Rachel, Kasey, and myself—you girls for speed, myself for concealment. Splitting those up means I pair with Taylor."

"You two have synergy, as well," Lisa said. "She can use her bugs in your darkness just fine."

"I'm sure you'll be making tons of synergy when you get home, right?" Alec asked. "Ow! Hey!"

I'd jabbed him with my elbow. "I'm going to have to deal with this idiot, aren't I?"

Brian shook his head. "Rachel and Lisa don't get along. It's better to split them up."

"So that pairs me with Lisa." Convenient; there were exactly enough constraints to leave one valid answer, like a logic puzzle.

"Yeah," he said, then paused and looked over at Lisa. "Those are the pairs you had us ride in last Friday."

"It's the most logical way to spread us out," Lisa said. "Maximizes redundancy and makes sure than any pair can take care of themselves if they're separated."

"Always a step ahead, aren't you?" he asked. She smirked. "Right. No objections?" There were none. "Then I think that's settled. I'll call Coil, see how we're getting placed." Brian stood up and walked to the back of the loft, where some quirk of the building improved cell reception. Rachel got up and walked to her room rather than share a couch with Lisa without a buffer between them, giving me a chance to switch couches. Alec immediately sprawled back out on his couch as he pulled his phone from his pocket, so it wasn't like I would have a seat to go back to if I got up anyway.

"So," I said, "Jayne and Tae-chan, Bob and Izoni, and us?"

"Who?" Alec asked.

Lisa sighed. "Kasey has been handing out nicknames," she said. "Don't bother asking her to explain them."

"I will not stop memeing and you cannot make me."

"You are off in the head, you know that, right?" Alec said. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"You doing okay, Kasey?" Lisa asked.

"Yeah, of course." I could tell she didn't believe me. "I'll be okay." The more I say it, the more likely it is to be true. "I've seen people die before, in messier ways."

Lisa studied me. "You have," she said uncertainly. "It doesn't make it better, though, does it?"

"It hit close to home. The suddenness of it." I shrugged. "It's not going to slow me down. Don't worry."

"Are you going to be okay if it happens again? Now that both sides have used lethal force, it's not going to deescalate."

"I'll manage."

"Don't get too enthusiastic," Alec said, not even glancing up from the game he was playing. "We don't take murderers, you know."

"Don't bullshit me, dude," I snapped. "Not like your family's going to come knocking." I regretted it as soon as I'd said it. Way to keep your knowledge to yourself, dumbass.

Alec started slightly; he stared at me, then looked at Lisa. "What are you looking at me for?" she asked. "I told you she knew too much about us. It was the first thing I said when we met her!"

He looked back at me, then shrugged and returned his attention to his phone. "Eh, she's cool. Whatever."

Brian came back into the living area. "All right. Rachel and Alec are on team Aleph. Me and Taylor are on Bet. Lisa and Kasey are on Dalet."

"What are we doing?" I asked.

"No idea. 'Operational Security'. All I know is the meeting locations." He rattled off a series of street intersections.

"We're hitting two safehouses and a drug stash," Lisa said. "Bet's the stash."

"What are the other two teams doing?" I asked.

"One team is hitting their motor pool. The last is assaulting one of the Teeth's drug dens—not a stash or a business, more a space for them to sleep off whatever they've taken," she told us. "It's like a barracks for them, where most of their manpower is when they aren't actually doing anything."

"Sounds like a clusterfuck," Alec said.

"Yeah. We got lucky dodging that." Or Coil's arranging things to keep us out of the meatgrinder. I wasn't regretting giving him the extra time… yet.

"No kidding," Brian said. "Kasey, you mind swinging by Taylor's house tomorrow, letting her know the deal? She'll need to make her own way to the meeting point."

"I can. Why not just text her? She'll get it when she checks the burner."

"I want to make sure I—well, you—can answer questions before we go. And…" he rubbed his neck awkwardly. "I was hoping you could check on her, make sure she's doing okay after last night. That wasn't supposed to happen."

I really should have thought of that myself, but I'd been self-centered, as always. "You're right, that's a good idea. I'll head over after school."

"Great. We're done, then, unless there's anything else?" I shook my head, as did Lisa. "Right. I'll see you tomorrow, after we're done. Be careful out there."

———X==X==X———​

Rather than visiting her at her home and having to tip-toe around her father, I decided to dodge the problem entirely by waiting for Taylor outside Winslow. "Kasey?" she asked when I waved her down. "What's up?"

"Couple things," I said. We were still in a crowd, so I didn't elaborate yet. Taylor took the hint; she hitched her bag and started walking down the street, and I followed. Most of the students headed straight to the parking lot or the bus stop, so the crowd thinned out pretty quickly as we walked away from the school.

"So. The whole… plan." I took a moment to check that we weren't going to be overheard before I continued. "We'll be pairing off for assignments. Lisa and I, you and Brian, and Alec and Rachel."

"Three teams?" she asked.

"We're being sent to three teams, out of five. Paired off, like I said."

"Where are we meeting?"

"I didn't memorized the other meeting points. Brian will text you the address. You'll have to make your own way there."

"Great. I can do that." Taylor nodded.

"You're okay working with Brian?"

"Yeah, sure, I guess. You guys probably put more thought into it than I have." She paused. "How'd you come up with the teams?"

"Brian made most of the decisions. He laid out all the constraints and why there was exactly one 'solution'."

"I'll ask him, them."

"It's not that complicated," I said, then stopped. It was easy enough to explain why the team's powers worked well like that… but we were out on the street in our civvies. "Uh, nevermind. You can ask him if you're curious."

Taylor snorted at my misstep. "I'll do that," she said.

That left one more topic on the agenda. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I mean, you know…" I took a deep breath. "After last night."

"Ah." It was a moment before she continued. "I think I'm okay," she said. "The heads hit me worse than the… other thing. That was gross, but it looked more like bad special effects than a real person dying."

"That's fair." I'd felt the opposite. Shinigami blowing someone apart had been far more disturbing to me. Then again, I hadn't gotten a good look at the heads; who know what Taylor had managed to sense. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." Taylor met my eyes. "Really."

"Really? Because I wasn't."

"I'm fine," she insisted. "And so are you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." I wasn't sure I was fine at all. "Do you have any questions? About tonight?"

"I've got it. Really. Did Lisa put you up to this?"

"Brian, actually," I said casually. "He wanted to make sure you were doing okay."

Taylor ducked her head. "I'll be fine." Was she blushing? "We fought Lung, remember? This isn't my first rodeo."

"As I looked out over the flaming ruins of my second rodeo," I quoted."I realized I may have overstated my experience."

Taylor rolled her eyes and punched me in the shoulder.

———X==X==X———​

Before I knew it, it was Monday night. The first day of the War Against the Teeth. Just like the moments leading up to the bank, once it came time to start, my nerves just… faded away. This was the "Strong Heart" perk in action, making sure I was ready to act in the crisis I was about to instigate. I could tell the moment it happened, now that I was looking for it, and it was… weird.

It felt a bit like Xanax, actually.

Tattletale and I arrived twenty minutes before eleven o'clock. Five minutes early; better than being told off for being late. I was wearing my old costume; ironically, leaving the new one in the loft meant it was still sitting in a box, unused, because we hadn't staged anything from there since I'd dropped it off.

We flew in, of course. I set us down in the center of the vacant lot we were using as a meeting place and took a look around. Trickster and the actual Ballistic were lingering in one corner of the lot, surrounded by a cloud of cigarette smoke.

I knew both their powers already. Trickster could swap two objects he could see; the size and shape mattered more than the mass, but I wasn't sure how much. The PRT listed him as a mover, but he fought like a shaker, confusing the battlefield by moving people and objects around erratically. Ballistic was a blaster; he could accelerate objects he touched to supersonic velocities. Unfortunately, he couldn't dial down the speed, which made it hard to use carefully.

"Hail, the Travelers!" I called.

"Hail, the Undersiders!" Trickster responded, ashing his cigarette in the weeds underfoot. They stood up as we approached, and we met halfway, exchanging greetings and handshakes. "You know the plan?"

"Not in detail," I said. "What's the plan?"

"We weren't told either," he said. "Hopefully whoever we're waiting for knows."

"The Empire," Tattletale said. "They're the only group on every team. We'll have… three members. Probably the fliers."

We were near the north end of the city. The Teeth had primarily set up shop in the Trainyards and the west docks, places the Merchants had used but not 'held'. With only Mush and Trainwreck left in the organization, it wasn't clear whether there would still be a Merchants gang by the time this was over. If the Teeth managed to stake their claim, they'd likely take over the low-end drug market. If they were defeated, the ABB would likely turn north. The fact that Trainwreck was secretly in Coil's pocket only complicated matters further.

Back to the present: the buildings here were low, squat structures, none more than two stories tall. They were also empty; the Teeth would have pushed out any homeless squatters who weren't willing to fly the colors. All in all, it was a good environment for close air support.

The Empire had three fliers of varying mobility; in descending order, they were Purity, who had straight-up flight; Rune, who could telekinetically lift objects and ride them; and Crusader, whose projections could fly and lift people, including himself. We'd likely have at least one; probably Rune, to give Ballistic a nice, high vantage point, although Purity had enough firepower to just flatten the stash-house by herself.

"You ready for this?" I asked Tattletale. "I'm a little surprised you're out in the field, to be perfectly honest."

"Didn't have much choice," she said. "It would reflect badly on the team if I wasn't out here. The only people sitting this out are the ones who aren't stable, like Labyrinth."

"And Coil," I added. "You see his people anywhere, Tats?"

"Not yet. They're around, though." We can't speak freely, was the message I got. Was Coil paranoid enough to bug the future meeting sites? Probably.

"Since we have some time, we should practice a bit," Trickster said. "I may have to swap you guys around, so you may as well get used to it now. You two are pretty close in height, so this won't be too hard." I was suddenly a few feet to the left. My balance wasn't affected, but having the scenery snap like that was disorienting, to say the least. He did it twice more. "There you go. Not so bad, right?"

"It's all right," I allowed. "I'm going to try not to need it all the same, no offense."

"None taken."

"The Empire's here," Tattletale said, pointing up into the sky.

I followed her finger, then did a double-take. "You've got to be kidding me." For reasons I could only guess, the Empire had decided to arrive on a flying sofa. They were literally couch-surfing. The Nazi love-seat landed in the middle of the lot, allowing Rune, Krieg, and Crusader to step off.

Rune was a telekinetic striker, capable of 'inscribing' objects that she was then able to lift and throw with her mind—she'd been piloting the sofa. She had a somewhat 'wizardly' costume, long robes and a cowl over her masked face. Crusader was one of the… four? five? masters in the Bay, who formed projections of himself that could fly and phase through walls; his costume was little more than homemade armor with red and black stylings. Krieg, I knew the least about, other than he was extremely hard to kill—another variant of telekinesis or aerokinesis, if I remembered correctly, a defense almost like Accelerator's vector field. He still had the same Hollywood-concentration-camp-guard uniform, although he'd traded his gas mask for a pair of aviator goggles that hid the top half of his face and left the bottom free, probably so he could be heard properly when he spoke.

"Listen up," Krieg said without preamble. "We will be hitting the safehouse in fifteen minutes." He said it like, 'Vee vill be hitting zee safe-haus…'—it had to be one of 'zee' worst German accents I'd ever heard. Probably very effective at disguising his voice, though, I'd give him that. "Our first goal is the destruction of the supplies they have stockpiled there. Our second goal is to incapacitate as many of the degenerates as possible for the eventual police response. At first, the defenses will be only normal thugs, but they will be well armed, so don't hesitate to use lethal force." Easy for the Nazi to say, I thought bitterly.

"We will be able to counter any cape they bring except the Butcher. If the Butcher does show up, we must retreat immediately, in good order. It is essential that we keep track of the Butcher. If she is here, our comrades elsewhere will have free reign. Because I do not trust that you have properly prepared, I will list her powers once. They are: brute strength and toughness, seeing people through walls, a danger sense, causing excruciating pain, leaving festering wounds, teleportation with an explosion at the target location, reshaping homogeneous matter, causing rage, immunity to pain, and perfect accuracy." He cleared his throat. "The Empire will be offering healing if you should suffer a festering wound," Krieg ground out, clearly unhappy with the concession.

"The specifics: Rune will provide a platform for the Travelers to view the battlefield. Flux and myself will enter alongside the phantoms, with the blaster providing air support. Coil's men will disable and capture any gangsters we flush out of the building. Flux, you are bulletproof, ja?" I nodded. "Excellent. Any questions?"

"Can I hitch a ride on the flying carpet?" Tattletale asked.

"Who are you again?" Krieg asked.

"Tattletale? Robbed a bank?" She was clearly unhappy to have been forgotten.

"What is your power? No, nevermind, it doesn't matter. Do as you wish."

"Are we all going to fit on the sofa?" Trickster asked.

Krieg snorted. "What? No. That was a matter of subtlety." He turned to Rune. "If you would, please."

Rune smiled, and a chunk of asphalt a dozen feet in diameter pulled itself free of the already badly potholed street behind her, surface glowing with strange, pseudo-Nordic runes. "Good enough?" she asked mockingly.

Trickster whistled appreciatively. "I'll say." He moved towards the floating platform, but I caught his arm before he could board.

"I know I complained about the teleporting, but if anyone falls, you can swap me for them," I told him. "I can take it."

"Good to know. We'll try to stay on all the same." I nodded and released him, and everyone but Krieg and I boarded the flying platform.

"Any idea why they put so many long range supports on the same team?" I asked as Krieg led Crusader's phantoms and I down the street.

"My idea. The platform makes for an ideal vantage point for them. We get the most value out of its use like this. I also requested another brute; that is you." He pronounced it 'veequested', which I wasn't sure was right for any accent. "Ah. Here we are." He pointed to a building much like the others we'd passed, a low, two-story commercial building of some sort, then started walking towards the nearest door, only for it to open of its own accord.

A man in ragged, spike-studded clothing emerged and fired a submachine gun at Krieg and I. The bullets whizzed harmlessly around him and mushroomed against me with equally little effect. Then the gun jerked out of his hands as another, much louder gunshot sounded from somewhere behind us: one of Coil's men, no doubt. The Teeth man stared at his empty hands for several seconds, then screamed as a second shot went through his ankle.

That was the end of the silence. Crusader's phantoms flew forward, though the walls, and a hail of gunfire emerged from deeper inside, punctuated by the loud snap-boom of Ballistic's power punching holes in the building. Krieg walked with the slow, unflinching pace of a terminator, and I followed suit.

The ground floor was a madhouse. Numerous holes had already been punched through the ceiling by Ballistic's power, and blood covered the floor. Several Teeth were clutching mangled hands, courtesy of Crusader, and at least two others were already dead. The ones who were still mobile were running around in a panic. No one challenged us as we walked forward.

Another hole opened up overhead as one of Ballistic's shots punched through the floor above, narrowly missing one of the surviving gangsters. "Fuck!" I yelled, flinching as bits of old roofing material showered down in front of us.

"Relax. You would survive a hit, ja?" Krieg stopped, looking around the poorly-lit remnants of what had once been some sort of department store. "Ah. Here we are." He walked around a low dividing wall, and I followed. Half a dozen large wooden crates sat lined up on the other side, each roughly a four-foot cube. "Flux. If you would?" I pulled a crate open, revealing guns. A lot of guns. Krieg pulled out a large tin out of his coat pocket and dumped some sort of powder into the crate; thermite, if I had to guess.

"We're destroying the stuff, not stealing it?"

"Nein. If we steal something, we must divide it among the teams. Too complicated, too likely to cause problems. Please, continue." I pulled another crate open, and he repeated the process, going down the line until every crate had been sabotaged. Then he pulled out a book of matches, lit one, and threw it into the middle crate.

Nothing happened.

"Ah, forgot the fuse." He pulled out a strand of magnesium wire and lit it with another match. "It is not every day that I have an excuse to do this, you see," he said as he threw the burning wire into the crate. That set off the thermite, and the spray of hot iron quickly spread the reaction to the other crates. "Come. There will be more supplies." He pointed to another stash of crates, and I followed him through the shop, the merrily burning thermite sizzling in the background.

I popped the top off to reveal what was probably close to a metric ton of canned beans. "We have to destroy this stuff, too?"

"Not worth the thermite. Check the others." I pulled off more lids, revealing more canned goods, dry cereal, and a massive quantity of rice. Krieg ignored the lot, so I stuffed a crate into my pocket while he wasn't looking.

The gunfire upstairs had already died down, as had the sonic booms and impacts of our airborne blaster. "I am feeling decidedly redundant," I complained as we approached another stock of crates.

Krieg laughed. "You will get your chance when the capes come. There is no point sending you to chase down individual scum, ja?"

"Ja," I repeated mockingly as I cracked another box. These crates were full of medical supplies. "I don't suppose we can spare this stuff?"

He pulled out another thermite tin. "Nien." I scowled, but didn't argue.

In the end, I never got the chance Krieg spoke of. The Teeth soldiers went down, the supplies burned, and the capes never came. We met back up with the rest of our team just outside the front door.

"I think that's it," Tricker said as he hopped off the platform. "That was… underwhelming."

"Yeah." I had managed to be bored during what I'd expected to be a life-or-death fight. "What was it like up in the air?"

"Your partner spotted for Ballistic, and he put holes in walls. I swapped guns for rubble and dropped men outside for Coil's men to tie up. They did most of the fighting."

"Don't forget Crusader's phantoms," Tattletale added. "There was a lot of friendly fire when they entered. Probably a few dead from that."

"Serves them right," Rune said haughtily. "Idiots."

"Do not dwell on it," Krieg told us. "It was their own stupidity that killed them. Now, is there any other business we must address before the PRT gets here? They will be arriving shortly."

"Too late to do anything, as always," Ballistic grumbled.

Krieg shook his head. "Exactly on time to deal with the trash." He kicked a Teeth member lying on the ground next to him, drawing a yelp of pain. "Coil was able to arrange a manner of cooperation after all. We do the fighting, and they will pretend it is just good fortune that so many criminals are lying around, clutching mysterious wounds. Lucky for them, ja?"

"Convenient," Trickster agreed. "Well, I don't suppose we could catch a ride back home with you?"

"Not a chance," Rune said. "You made your way here, make your way back."

"Ah, well, it was worth a shot. See you later, amigos." Trickster waved a hand over his shoulder as they walked away. A moment later, they were replaced by a broken phone booth and a newspaper dispenser. The Nazis left the asphalt slab behind, heading back towards their couch, and once they were out of sight, we took to the air as well.

———X==X==X———​

Tattletale and I were the second team back to the loft. Alec was on the couch, playing a Zelda game I didn't recognize. "Where's Tae-chan, Jayne?" I asked as I sat down next to him.

"She already left," he said, not even bothering to comment on my nicknaming. "How was your night?"

"No capes. You?"

"Same. Maybe two dozen normals with guns. It was pathetic."

"We overestimated their communications," Lisa said as she returned from the kitchen. She'd already finished changing into a pair of loose pajamas with the Protectorate logo all over them. "By the time they got their asses in gear, we were already done."

I frowned. "So what do we do next?"

"The same thing," she said, as if it was obvious. "The strategy is working better than expected." She tossed me a can of soda and sat down on the other couch, opening her own can.

"Oh." I looked at the soda—ginger ale?—and tossed it back to her. "I gotta admit, the Nazi's were more… cooperative than I expected."

"They were in charge. It was up to us and the Travelers if we were going to make an issue of it, and we didn't, so things went smoothly." She took a sip from her coke while weighing the ginger ale in her other hand. "I'm gonna figure out your drink of choice one of these days."

"I could just tell you."

"Don't ruin my fun, Kasey."

Skitter and Grue got back around two in the morning. "Ah, I'm gonna feel this tomorrow," Skitter complained as she headed back to her room. "It's too damn late to still be awake."

"Did you see any capes?" I asked Grue.

"Yeah. Hemorrhagia was there, but she ran the moment the action started." He took his helmet off and stuck it on the shelf, then grabbed a cardboard box and headed into the bathroom to change. Taylor finished first and said a quick goodnight before heading out the door. Lisa retired to her room as well, and I called goodnight to Brian through the bathroom door before heading home myself. We'd be doing this again tomorrow night, so we all needed all the rest we could get.

I scattered the looted beans across a half-dozen food donation bins on my way home.

———X==X==X———​
 
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