47
Dinah chattered happily the entire ride back to the wealthy neighborhoods she called home, trying to fill him in on all the details and gossip surrounding a school play she was looking forward to. Escorting the girl by car, even if she insisted on walking the last block, made it easier to ascertain her safety. Oni Lee had carefully vetted the drivers selected for the task, and instructed them to never take the same route twice in a row, as well as had a few lookouts stationed near the Alcott home to watch for suspicious activity. The villain Coil may have been arrested, but complacency was the bedrock of failure. Sooner or later, someone would come for the girl's power; such was the reality of a world of parahumans. Oni Lee would be ready for them.
The girl Dinah kept talking, oblivious to the thoughts of the demon sitting next to her. Even if he could have gotten a word in edgewise, it was unlikely that he would have done so. Perhaps understandably, she seemed happier to share her thoughts as they came to her rather than answer questions. If she needed someone to listen to her as well as watch for knives in the dark, well, Oni Lee could do that too. It was not an onerous task.
Though, Dinah's presence and attention and endless conversation did, on occasion, set Oni Lee's thoughts to drift. He wondered: had Kiyoko been like Dinah, a bright and lively girl? Or had she been more reserved, more gentled by books and quiet reflection, like the Miko? Perhaps she had been both, at times. Or neither.
Sometimes, even more rarely, his thoughts drifted further: what had he been like? In truth, Oni Lee did not think he would ever know. That man, whoever he had been, was gone. It was up to Oni Lee, now, to act, to value, to live, and eventually, to die and leave memories of him behind with those who still lived. But maybe--maybe--the memories Kiyoko had left with that man might still be found: through watching the shadow of a girl with a ribbon in her hair, through the touch of her small hand in his as he walked her home. So he would watch, and wait, and guard. Even if it took years, he would wait.
No matter what he had been once, Oni Lee was a patient man.
Dinah tugged him up the short steps to her front door and knocked twice, as she had every day, and Mrs Alcott answered, her posture tense and expression rigid. And as she had every day, Dinah grinned and said, "Hi mom! I got lost and Mr Oni Lee brought me home. Can he stay for dinner?"
The routine was broken when Mrs Alcott exhaled slowly instead of grabbing for Dinah's other hand. "Yes, Dinah. He can stay for dinner. Go wash up, now."
Dinah's eyes widened, and behind his mask, Oni Lee's did the same. The girl gave an excited 'whoop!' and ducked around her mother to run inside. Oni Lee stayed on the porch, and watched Mrs Alcott. The woman visibly steeled herself before speaking. "Are you going to make trouble?"
"No. I will not insult your hospitality." That assurance did rest on whether or not the Alcotts acted in good faith as well, of course. Though, with their daughter present, he rather doubted they would do anything foolish. Besides; he had every confidence that Dinah would find a new means of subverting her parents' wishes if he declined, and by now he was certain the Alcotts knew that as well.
Mrs Alcott didn't move from the doorway. "I don't allow weapons at dinner."
That was… a bit more troubling. Not for lessening his ability to defend himself, but if that proved necessary it would make retrieving his gear afterwards rather inconvenient. It was a reasonable request, despite his misgivings. "Understood. Is there somewhere set aside that I may leave my gear?"
The woman nodded and finally stepped aside, giving him permission to enter her household. She stayed several steps ahead of him as she led the way into the foyer of the large home, then gestured to a low table set against one of the walls. Oni Lee inferred that this was where she meant for him to disarm, so he began the process of removing the various implements strapped to his person. The bandolier across his chest, complete with four fragmentation and two flash grenades was first, followed by six knives in a variety of sizes (including the one hidden in his boot), and finally his short blade, once he managed to disentangle it from its place at his belt. The ojime had been easier to adjust, but the beaded cord had been offered up to the Ōkami months ago.
Satisfied with his compliance, Mrs Alcott pursed her lips and said, "The dining room is just through there. Please seat yourself, I am going to call my husband and Dinah to--"
Prematurely summoned by the sound of her name, Dinah raced down the nearby flight of stairs, now without her backpack and, presumably, now with clean hands. She zipped across the foyer and towards the wide archway that Mrs Alcott had indicated was the entrance to the dining room. Rather than enter, she stopped at the threshold, and Oni Lee felt a thrill of alarm start to creep down his spine. The girl frowned, pursed her lips in determination just like her mother, then turned and walked towards where Mrs Alcott and Oni Lee still stood. The girl reached for his wrist and tugged. "C'mon, Mr Oni Lee. You can sit by me."
She kept hold of his wrist and marched back to the dining room, her steps quick enough that Oni Lee was forced to follow behind, rather than beside. Once they reached the entryway, and Oni Lee saw the sea of white costumes arranged around the long dining table, he understood several things at once:
First, that the Alcotts were indeed foolish enough to invite the entirety of New Wave to this affair and still request that he not cause trouble;
Second, that if Dinah's power operated how he thought it did, then the girl considered the risk of going ahead with this to be within acceptable limits;
Third, that the sentries he had posted were either captured, or were not doing their jobs. For their sake, it had better be the former, because if it was the latter then Oni Lee was going to personally express his disappointment in them. Afterward, he would graciously allow them to offer an apology to Lung.
Assuming he survived dinner, of course.
* * *
Calculated risk was not a dynamic that Oni Lee was accustomed to needing to consider. There was nothing lost when destroying one of his clones, so for his own sake at least it was not a worry. But now? Right now, any potential move had consequences, lasting ones, and the enormity of the task before him left Oni Lee feeling numb from indecision. If he escaped now, what would that mean for Dinah? If he stayed, and was attacked, would the New Wave parahumans shield her in time? They had a member dedicated to protective fields, appropriately named Shielder, who was at present seated next to the team's medic; a sound tactical choice, putting the defensive cape next to the weakest link. Furthermore, if a fight broke out, would his teleportation be faster than the combined means of destruction that New Wave possessed? In quarters this close, he doubted it.
Multiple options, none of them good. None of them familiar, either. What was the closest equivalent to this situation, something that he could emulate? There was only one answer in recent memory:
Tea time is courtesy time. This table was not set for tea, but it was close enough. Oni Lee sat down where Dinah directed him to, then--under the watchful glares of eight costumed superheroes--reached for the straps that held his mask in place and undid them. For lack of a better place to put it, Oni Lee hung the leering demon mask over the back of his chair, and turned back to face a number of raised eyebrows and suspicious expressions. One of the youngest of the New Wave heroes, the girl with the lasers, was incredulous. "You're just gonna take that off?"
"No one else is wearing a mask, here. It would be discourteous to refuse to do the same," he answered after a moment.
"And you're not worried about losing your secret identity?"
Losing his identity? Oni Lee nearly laughed. In response, he asked, "New Wave cooperates with the Protectorate. Do you have any records of me? Do you know my name?"
Lady Photon's face was like stone-- if she lied, Oni Lee had no idea. "No."
"...that is a shame," he said after a moment. "Neither do I."
Conversation stalled to nothing as the meal was actually served, the Alcotts having employed a caterer for the night-- one that very swiftly left as soon as their task was complete. Mr Alcott and his wife remained, though they were tight-lipped and white-knuckled. Dinah was the only one to start eating immediately, which made a poisoning seem less likely. Eventually, everyone followed suit, though it was a tense affair all around. Brandish, one of the hero group's two matriarchs, was the first to break the silence.
"So," she began, her voice clipped and eyes sharp, "Oni Lee. What made you suddenly start following the mayor's niece?"
"Mercenaries belonging to Coil attempted to abduct Dinah from the Pawprint Shrine. I dealt with them. I then escorted her home." He would have thought that New Wave would already known that. Perhaps the question was just a formality. "I have instructed the… Local 433 union to consider her safety a priority."
("I told you they were after me," Dinah muttered towards her parents.)
("Dinah, shush.")
"You've got goons following her?!" A ripple of anger accompanied Glory Girl's exclamation. She looked ready to pound the table to splinters with her fists.
"For her protection, yes."
"You're a serial murderer," Brandish ground out between her teeth. "What she needs is to be protected from you."
"I have no reason to harm Dinah."
"And we're supposed to… what? Take you at your word?" One of the men scoffed; the lightning bolt emblem on his costume helped to identify him as Manpower. "The last time I saw you this close, you blew off my leg with a grenade."
Oni Lee considered as he chewed. "I remember that encounter. I believe that was just before your Flashbang filled the area with explosives." The other New Wave husband looked a bit uncomfortable at the reminder. The anecdote was not a true answer to the question, however, and Oni Lee took advantage of the lull to try and organize his thoughts a bit better.
"I suspect that you do not regret your methods; therefore, I will not regret mine. I can expect no mercy, and as such, can offer none. This is the life that parahumans have chosen." As a whole, the members of New Wave stared at him, their faced filled with anger-- and confusion. "My sister did not choose this, but others chose for her. Dinah has not chosen this. Others have attempted to choose for her. I do not agree with their presumption; that is why I do this."
* * *
Emma sat at her vanity, the intricate table and mirror a remnant of her younger days. She'd long since stripped away the trappings of innocence that had once adorned it: colorful stickers, a pretty bookmark, pictures of her and Taylor making funny faces. She'd replaced her glitter and costume jewelry with satin matte gloss and press-on nails. Emma had grown up, in the past couple years. She'd really gotten a good look at how the world worked, not how a naive person hoped it did.
Sophia had explained it to her, in that alleyway, where every shadow was a lurking reminder of her childishness being excised by a knife. There were really only two kinds of people in the world, she'd said: those who fought, and those who surrendered. Winners, and losers. Strong people and weak people. Predators and prey. It was a dog-eat-dog world, after all. If someone was stronger than you, they'd step on you to get ahead, no questions asked. Emma had been attacked because she'd looked weak, but she'd survived because she was strong. She'd been willing to fight back, even without a hope of really winning.
Emma was willing to fight. Ready to put anyone down that she could, to raise herself a little higher. That's how the world worked; if she didn't take advantage of other people's weakness, someone else would. And if she couldn't bring someone down, then it was imperative to not show that weakness, because they'd do the same to her in a heartbeat. Fake it until you make it, in other words.
It hadn't… really gone as planned. At all.
It was supposed to be a clean break, her and Taylor. Emma chose to end their lifelong friendship in favor of keeping Sophia, her rescuer; like a rite of passage, she'd left her childhood behind. Except Taylor wouldn't go away, wouldn't let years of sisterhood be shoved aside, wouldn't accept that Emma didn't need her anymore. She'd tried everything to sever that tie, and even when she and Sophia got serious about it, Taylor wouldn't even bite back and give Emma the justification she needed. She was supposed to win, but that required someone else to lose, and Taylor had refused to play at all.
It was supposed to be a solid alliance, her and Sophia. She handled the physical challenges, Emma took the social ones. They watched each other's backs so nobody could put them down. Except Emma had failed her part, she hadn't been able to protect Sophia from questions and investigations. And once Sophia was taken away, Emma was left without the power to back up her claims. The carefully-cultivated circles and cliques of friendship and influence at school had broken apart and reformed without her in them. She was supposed to be in control, but a rule through fear vanished as soon as the threat was gone.
It was supposed to be a new start, her and Karen. She'd prove that she wouldn't be swept aside, that she wasn't at the bottom because there'd be others underneath her heels. Emma had jumped at the chance to redeem herself, to use the skills she swore she had to manipulate, and extort, and raise herself high enough that she wouldn't look like an easy target. Make herself look tough enough that she wouldn't have to be afraid all the time. She was supposed to be the one pulling the strings-- and look at how that had ended up.
Emma had failed at every step. 'Karen' had made that clear. She was supposed to be able to protect herself, and she couldn't. She was supposed to be able to stand on her own, and she couldn't. And since she was helpless, she was supposed to be devoured.
Yuuta was supposed to abandon her. He hadn't.
Emma stared at her vanity mirror, with its frame empty and barren of photographs, bookmarks, or stickers, and thought that this wasn't what it was supposed to look like. Nothing was how it was supposed to be. So, what was Emma supposed to do now-- and what was she going to do?
