3.2
Mornings were the worst, in Emily Piggot's opinion. Especially mornings where she had to read reports about yet another dismissal by an increasingly irritating thorn in her side.
Taylor Hebert had encountered Dauntless while he was responding to reports of ABB activity, rebuffing the hero before she departed and leaving him to deal with three incapacitated gang members. Of course, it was nothing that Dauntless couldn't handle, but at this point, she didn't know what irritated her more. The girl's continued refusal, her increasing capacity with her powers, or the fact that she couldn't curb the girl without causing potentially irreversible damage to the Wards program.
In the end, questioning of the three gangers had painted an unsettling picture, and her gut feeling told her something wasn't lining up. Setting down her coffee and the paperwork, she leaned back in her chair to think. The option to forcibly rein in the girl was looking better all the time. But until the girl misstepped, she couldn't. Her hands were tied. A situation she was never fond of encountering.
The girl's father, at least, hadn't made things any worse in the past few weeks. She had tasked an agent to discreetly check in on him at regular intervals, and sent the legal department to try and handle things on that end. Though he seemed withdrawn and defeated, she had not received any indication that he was going to do anything that would further exacerbate the situation.
What he's already done is enough, she thought as her chair tilted forward. She had been occupied with a particularly harsh treatment session when he came and filled out the paperwork before turning it in. It had been an unpleasant surprise to come out of the infirmary to find that someone had chosen that day to be particularly efficient.
Harsh questioning after Armsmaster's discovery had alleviated the worry. Whoever had filed the papers and sent them to legal was merely being overly helpful. It was whoever tampered with the computer system that irked her, even if they probably wouldn't be able to do it again, though much of Armsmaster's explanation on that front had gone over her head. More concerning was the fact they had no one responsible, leaving her empty-handed on all accounts. She had no Ward, no culprit, and no clue as to why it happened.
Consideration of the current issues before her dominated her thoughts as she stared into her coffee mug. The Hebert issue had to bide for now, though she knew the Wards in particular were displeased with their current orders. She would fill in the missing details in time but right now, she had a leak to plug. Or worse, a mole. The fact they had interfered with the due process of bringing in a Ward was secondary to the fact that they were actually able to in the first place.
When she was sure her house was in order again, then she would make her move. But right now, she would tend her unexpected black eye and prepare for the time when they knew who was responsible for this debacle so she had an outlet for her frustrations.
Picking up the papers again, she skimmed through the recent reports from the Wards with a practiced eye, absorbing the details that they offered regarding the Hebert girl's behavior. '
A few more pieces to my puzzle,' she mused as new notes were added and she once again rearranged the schedule of who would be required to approach her and when. The girl was recalcitrant, true, but Emily could afford to be patient a bit longer. It wasn't a problem she was unused to, merely one that rarely had an easy answer.
Her eyes turned from that schedule once the adjustments were done to the one from the Protectorate. A similar survey was done of recent Protectorate reports and she made similar suggestions to their assignments. Armsmaster was the final say there in day-to-day operations, but Hebert was under her purview and how she was handled was up to her.
A knock on the door drew her attention away from that task just as it finished. "Come in."
Miss Militia entered seconds later, looking preoccupied with something. "Good morning, Director."
"Such as it is," she responded blandly, centering her focus on the Protectorate's second in command. "What can I do for you, Miss Militia?"
She displayed a new folder, bearing the seal of the Brockton Protectorate. "Reports, from Armsmaster," she said before settling into a chair opposite the Director, handing her the folder. "We've gone through the backgrounds on everyone employed locally with the Protectorate, starting with those who have access to the computer systems on the Rig. Unfortunately, with no clear idea of when the PRT systems were compromised, we have no way of knowing if it's localized in the PRT or if we've been compromised as well. Armsmaster has been turning over our computers just to be sure. But for the moment, we're clean."
Emily Piggot grimaced, taking the folder and flipping it open as she shifted to make herself more comfortable. "So, three weeks have passed and we have nothing further on who might be responsible?"
Miss Militia shook her head. "Armsmaster is still checking both our systems, but the last update on that is a no. Our only clue still is that whoever it is logged in with an unnamed and untracked Admin account, something that shouldn't be possible. Not without accessing the mainframe here."
Releasing a displeased sigh, the Director busied herself with the task of straightening the papers on her desk and adding the new file to them to keep herself busy. "And it won't happen again?"
It was Miss Militia's turn to look frustrated. "Armsmaster says no, but since something like this shouldn't have happened to begin with as far as we can tell, I hesitate to apply certainty to anything."
The Director paused in thought, before nodding. "I see. I suppose for now, that will have to do. Once we ensure that the immediate leak is plugged, we can move on to finding out who it was. Anyone that can infiltrate us here has a chance to do so elsewhere." She reached over to one pile of paperwork, and pulled out a file. "In the meantime, have you heard anything promising from the others in the Protectorate regarding the Hebert girl?"
"Assault and Battery seem to be the ones who receive the most positive responses from her," Miss Militia said after a moment. "Due in no small part to Assault's habit of playing the fool, I expect."
"Mm," Emily responded noncommittally. "Perhaps. Would you suggest shifting them to be the primary contacts from the Protectorate to her?"
"It might work best. I assume you've picked out some Wards?"
"Vista and Flechette appear to have the most positive responses, based on their reports," she said, then paused to stare at the Protectorate second-in-command. "You obviously have concerns. Out with them."
"Is this truly necessary?" Miss Militia said after a long moment. "Why not simply approach her directly?"
The Director sighed. "We both know that right now, Ms. Hebert doesn't hold us in the highest of graces. Understandably, she blames us for what's happened with her personal life. Anyone in a direct position of authority is going to receive more direct scorn than the dismissals she has given those who have approached her."
She steepled her fingers before her face, watching the other woman over top of them. "Had I another option, I would pursue it. But at the moment, our only course of action is to talk. But before then, we have to find someone she'll talk to. Her father is no longer an option, since she has for all intents and purposes cut ties with him. We've attempted to approach New Wave about Glory Girl's apparent camaraderie with her, but they're stonewalling us."
"It feels wrong, though," Miss Militia said. "I mean, she has no wish to be a member of the Wards."
Emily sighed once more before nodding in agreement. "Unfortunately, that is an option closed to us. I was displeased that the forms submitted by her father were turned over to legal while I was preoccupied, but I cannot fault someone for doing their job, much as I loathe the headache the act has created. The papers are beyond my ability to have them be lost or misplaced, so unless we have probable reason to have her declared unfit to be a Ward or her father retracts her from the program, we have no choice but to continue."
Miss Militia's eyes narrowed. "There's someone else taking an interest then?"
"The reports on her powers have drawn someone's attention. As well as her situation. I do not know what goes through that man's mind, but he clearly believes he can salvage the situation in some manner and there were several
recommendations made to me on how to handle the situation."
"Recommendations?" Miss Militia asked with a raised eyebrow. "Why does that sound like anything but?"
"For now, he has only offered suggestions. But he has made clear that he feels the situation warrants attention on a deeper level from PR. While Armsmaster's efforts were well-intentioned, everyone involved believes that in his search for the still-unclassified Parahuman, he misstepped in approaching Miss Hebert."
"Odd that they would task Mr. Chambers on something like this."
The Director snorted. "I believe it's to have a grasp of the potential media circus this could turn into when it goes public. It will do so at the worst time, I am certain. By taking an interest early, he believes that with his own methods he can rectify this situation."
"You don't believe he can?"
"I am skeptical, given how little progress we've made ourselves. I will admit he has experience in the matter, but I'm worried that he may be too forward in his own way and will sour the progress we've made."
"You've voiced that concern, I take it?"
She nodded curtly. "I have. He has apprised the Chief Director of the situation, and she is in agreement with him, so his directives will be followed once he has familiarized himself with the situation more, if we fail to resolve it ourselves."
Miss Militia stood. "I have a meeting with Armsmaster shortly, so I'll leave you to your work now."
The Director nodded absently, her attention already focusing on the financial reports she had to deal with since the end of the month was fast approaching. These, at least, possessed none of the stubbornness of a teenage girl, for all that they could be similarly frustrating.
~~~~~~~~
I was busy eyeing the fabric hanging in the air, moving it to and fro with only my thoughts and making adjustments to it. Needle and thread moved at my direction, creating a row of neatly arranged stitches. It had taken a bit of practice to become as precise as a machine, but the results seemed to be well worth it.
While I worked on the replacement costume, I had two mops on the other side of the kitchen cleaning up. Surprisingly enough, even one person seemed to make a mess of things and the whole building or at least the parts I used needed to be cleaned every few days.
The table was covered with papers and other items. The sum total of my current funds sat there as well, and it amounted to another week of food and whatever else I needed at the moment. Two if I was cheap about things. I finished the sewing and sat the mostly finished costume, focusing on my monetary issues.
I could continue to use my precognition to exploit the scratch cards, but I had started wondering if that was still the most effective means of supporting myself. I could start depriving the criminals I took down of their money or belongings, but that had me worrying if I was taking stolen goods that could be returned to someone. Or, as the Wards contract pointed out, have other consequences.
"It would be just my luck to help myself to their money and accidentally take evidence, or be accused of theft," I muttered, considering also that I wasn't sure how comfortable I was with taking from criminals, looting rights or not. I pushed the thought aside for the now, beginning to sort through my sketches while the mops squeezed themselves of excess water and the buckets lifted up in order to be emptied.
Everything else was laid out on the table as well. My sketchbook, from which I was creating a new iteration to my costume – hopefully one that actually hid who I was this time – and the books Vicky got for me. From the library..
Just like that, my thoughts turned to that surreal moment from weeks ago when I had been attacked… but wasn't. Nothing similar had happened since that I had noticed, but I couldn't help but be on guard. It was like chills went down my spine, and I found myself second-guessing if what was happening was real or another event.
I had pushed it mostly from my mind. I had no explanations for it and it hadn't happened again, but I couldn't separate completely from the unease it had brought. Vicky had picked the books up for me because it bothered me to go to the library.
One of the books floated over to me and opened, flipping to the page I had bookmarked. The book moved with me as I wandered to a nearby couch, settling down on it while I divided my attention between the book and preparing something to eat. A sandwich floated over to me on a plate a few minutes later and I sat it down on the nearby table, the book commanding most of my attention.
I finished the chapter and closed the book, turning my attention to dinner. The sandwich went quickly and I stretched out on the couch, considering again what I was going to do for a more permanent solution for money. My mind raced and eventually, I sighed, standing up and adjusting the hem of my shirt where it had bunched up, exposing some of my stomach.
Having no one else around meant I had gotten a lot more lax about what I wore in private. I had almost squealed in surprise when Vicky showed up the other day unannounced while I wasn't wearing any pants. She had laughed at my frantic rush to find pants, but said nothing about it then. All the same, my cheeks burned just thinking about it as I had been in the middle of cleaning when she came in to the sight of me, bent over with no pants on.
Vicky trotted that moment out often to tease me now, apparently enjoying how easily flustered I was. The thought made me grimace as I made my way to the bathroom. I hadn't figured out the best way to get back at her for that yet, but I would. I was sure of it. I brushed my teeth and crawled into one of the beds, switching the lights off with a thought and settling beneath the sheets.
Sleep rushed up as I made my head comfortable on the pillow, claiming me before I had finished.
White. That was all that I saw as I fell. And yet, it was not all. Amid the white, there was a city, the structures shimmering and unfamiliar. Towers of the same burning, pearly white reached into a phantasmal sky and stretched onwards forever in all directions.
Where was I? My descent slowed and I found myself standing on solid ground. I studied the towers, and knew what they were. But at the same time, I didn't. I could only feel that the towers weren't meant for me. They belonged to someone else, someone different. My purpose here was different, and laid elsewhere.
My eyes drifted to the blazing star that crowned the endless expanse of sky. It was white as well, but I knew where it was even if I couldn't see it. Gradually, I turned my eyes from the sky to the path before me. I passed buildings, but saw no one. Moments passed and I found myself turning, catching the briefest of glimpses of people. A child running in between buildings, or an elderly couple crossing the street,
But those were glimpses only and when I looked, there was nothing. I moved onward and though I knew the distance was further than I could imagine, there was no time before I found myself before a door.
My fingers curled around the ornate handle, but I hesitated. What was this place?
Home. That was the answer. This was the heart. All things started and ended here. And so did I.
How had I come here?
It was natural to always return. Why wouldn't I come here?
Who was I?
Everything. And only one thing.
I pulled the door open, knowing that answers lay beyond the barrier it represented.
Roaring flames leapt pass me from the open door, and an echoing cry filled my head.
I…..AM!
I clutched at my head as that voice pierced my mind, fighting not to scream. My eyes squeezed shut, then flared open to the sight of the earth, hanging like a jewel in the sky before fire filled my vision, beginning to take shape. The voice rang out again and this time, my own voice joined it….
I...AM… FIRE…!
A shrill, mechanical sound broke me from sleep and I woke up coughing on the smell of smoke. I coughed again, my eyes opening to the sight of the covers and bed I was laying in wreathed in flames. Panic seized me and I swung my arms at the flames, scrambling on instinct to get away from them before I was burned.
I almost screamed when I saw the flames move with me, tracing the motions of my arms as I flailed and tumbled to the floor. The floor was cold and tiled, a fact that I was grateful for after I landed in a loose tangle of limbs. The fire ate away at the bed and I drew in a shuddering breath, raising an arm that was still wreathed in fire to stare at it dumbly.
It didn't hurt.
My arm moved and the flames moved with it lazily, their motion almost a caress as they coursed across my skin. But there was no pain. A sense of warmth, yes, but my skin didn't blacken or blister.
"What…" I said, my voice raw from coughing as I tried to make sense of this. But then the flickering light of my burning bed drew my attention again. Then I realized,
my bed was on fire.
Panic seized me and I drew on my powers, trying to calm the fire, to put it out. Instead, it blazed higher and I swore as the screeching of the smoke alarm intruded on my mind again.
"Shut up!" I screamed, crushing the nearest one with a thought and quelling the sound at least partially. A deep breath, then another as I blinked tears from the smoke that was continuing to fill the room and reached out. I could do this. If I could make things burn, I could put them out, right? Just have to make the fire do what I want, that's all.
Turning my mind on the blaze seemed to excite it as the flames burnt higher, faster, and hotter. I could feel as they hungrily consumed what was left of my bedding and began to sink fiery teeth into the wooden frame. Just had….just had to stop it. Had to make it not burn.
Another breath, then a fourth. I could do this. Calm down, Taylor. You can control fire, you can make it stop. But calm down first. Breath in… and out…
My eyes watched as the flames rose, then dipped, then rose again before dropping.
In time with my breathing? I took another breath and watched the flames shift raggedly in time with my suddenly uneven breathing. I watched the flames move in time and I took one last breath, then closed the hand I had been holding out into a fist.
The same moment, I squeezed my eyes shut, preferring not to see the flames roar higher if this didn't work. After a moment, when I didn't feel the warmth on my skin, I cracked one eye open. Smoke hung in the air still, but the fire was gone. Even the flames that had surrounded me were gone.
I let a shuddering breath out and took in my surroundings. Distantly, another fire alarm was still going off somewhere in the building while I sat on the floor, outlines of my hands scorched into the floorboards as I stared at the smoldering ashes that were once a bed. I was unharmed, but unsettled. I took a moment, then another before pushing myself upright, finding that the edges of my sleeping clothes had flaked to ash as well.
I grimaced, but couldn't find it in me to be embarrassed as I went in search of the other fire alarm to shut it off. Hopefully, none of these were connected to an alert system. The last thing I needed was an actual fire response at where I was living. I skimmed ahead, checking to see if I was going to need to pack up and find someplace else to stay.
A breath I hadn't been aware I was holding was released when I found no signs of anyone coming to investigate. I frowned for a moment as I shut off the other fire alarm, wondering once more about this place before I watched some of the ash flake away from my skin. These were ruined, for sure and I would have to do a lot of cleaning up. I started toward the bathroom for a shower to take care of that first. My mind raced, thoughts whirling as I considered how to prevent something like this from happening again.
A city, cast in white.
I froze with my hand on the hot water dial, thinking of that dream, or nightmare, or whatever it had been… I couldn't remember anything like that before… It had felt… more than a dream? I could feel the details in my mind, remember them. But they flitted about. Abstract, ghostly. Each time I tried to settle on one to bring it into focus it darted away and I was left with vague impressions.
My hand closed around the dial and turned. Hot water cascaded down and I thought. I had to. Thinking, that was what I needed. I needed to
think, to make sense of everything that had happened recently. Instead, I twisted the dial again, then plunged under the stream of water.
* * *
"Oh my god, what the hell did you do in here?" Vicky's voice intruded on my thoughts as I scrubbed at the floor where the bed had been. The smell still lingered, but I had managed to open a window to air out the worst of the smoke. I glanced up at her, half-smiling at the face she was making.
"Oh, you know me. Troublesome child, just thought I'd play with fire. It didn't go so well," I murmured, tossing the rag into a bucket and settling back. "How're you?"
"You know," Vicky said, looking between the scorched floorboards and me. "Trying to burn down a fire station has to rank up there on the irony scale or something. A fire in a firehouse? It's odd."
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, lifting myself into a standing position before staring at my soot-stained fingers. "What's up?"
Vicky twirled a finger in the air. "Oh, I got a visit from Piggy's people the other night, wanting to ask me about Sirin. I blew them off as usual, but… I was running around with Crystal then and she tattled to her mom, who told my mom. And now she's riding me about why the PRT is bothering me about some random cape. She doesn't like it."
"It isn't getting you in trouble, is it?" I asked, frowning.
Vicky waved a hand. "Not yet, but mom can get into moods over the stupidest things sometimes. She hates when the PRT pokes us and she doesn't like not knowing why."
"I don't want to cause trouble for you with your family…" I began, falling silent as she eyed me with a fierce look.
"You aren't," she said, still staring at me in a way that said she wasn't going to back down. "The PRT can get stuffed. Now come on." She stepped up, brushed me off and took me around the shoulder. "Let's go get something for breakfast. I already looked in your fridge and you've got squat."
"I was planning to go shopping today," I protested as she directed me toward the stairwell. "I need to get my shopping list and money and stuff!"
"You can come back for it. Let this place air out a bit. Hopefully no one will wonder why you smell like you've been in a fire."
"I kind of was," I muttered, shaking my head. "Know some place I can practice with my fire that won't be noticed?"
Vicky released my shoulder and crossed her arms. "Taylor, what did you do?"
I shrugged. "I was dreaming, I guess… and when I woke up, I was on fire. It didn't hurt me, but...well, the bed didn't share my apparent immunity."
Vicky arched an eyebrow. "Now you're immune to fire? What, were you hanging around with Lung?"
"If your theory were true, I imagine I'd get more than immunity to fire from him," I replied, rolling my eyes. "I don't know what the hell was going on. I woke from a dream and there was fire."
"Dreaming, huh?" Vicky asked, the teasing lilt unmistakable. "What were you dreaming about that got you so hot, then?"
I snorted. "Oh, put a sock in it. It wasn't anything like that, at all."
"Sure it wa –"
"At all," I repeated, glaring at her and she chuckled, holding her hands up to show she was giving up.
"Okay, okay, no risque dreams causing you to overheat, got it," she said and I merely groaned mentally, deciding to ignore her prodding. "What were they about, then?"
I walked past her to find where I had put my shoes, then changed directions so that I could get some fresh clothes first. "I don't know. There was a city…and everything was white. Then I saw the earth the same way we see the moon… and fire. Lots of fire."
The last thing I saw before stepping out of sight to change was Vicky blinking, then her voice called out. "Fire? You're saying you dreamed about a white city and fire then woke up to find your bed on fire with you in it, right?"
My arms caught in the sleeves for a second and I answered once I had pulled my head through the top of the shirt. "That's more or less it, yeah."
"First world cape problems," she said with a snort and I couldn't help but laugh.
"Anyway, I've been practicing with everything else but my pyrokinesis," I continued. "I'm worried that since I haven't used it since that time at the Boat Graveyard, not seriously, it might need to be used… or it'll just build up and up…"
"Until it bursts all over you and you set another bed on fire," Vicky interrupted and I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, we should make sure you get a handle on this and soon, before you run out of beds."
"You," I said, leaning around the door to be sure she could see my glare, "have a dirty mind."
"I'm not the one having dreams so heated that I set my bed on fire," Vicky fired back as I went for some socks and floated my shoes over. A moment later and I stepped out, glancing to where Vicky now stood, looking pleased with herself.
"Yes, yes." I waved a hand. "Go ahead and get the remarks out of your system. I'm sure you've thought of plenty already." I glanced around and then hooked an arm through a reusable grocery bag.
"I'll save them for later," Vicky said. "More fun to wait till there's people around. Then you do that thing you do, where yo –"
"Right! Let's go!" I interrupted, hating the way my voice squeaked as I shouldered past her and headed for the stairs, her laughter trailing after me.
* * *
The marketplace I had been doing most of my shopping at was a few blocks away. It sat near the edges of ABB turf. For all that I knew, it might've been owned or operated by them. But I hadn't been turned away yet for the lack of colors worn or otherwise, and the shops were friendly and the stuff cheap. Both factors made it good in my book. I'd been coming here for three weeks, and so far I hadn't left unhappy .
"How's things with you and Dean?" I asked. I picked out a bag of rice, dropped it into my basket and started looking over the selection of veggies. Vicky blinked and turned her head in my direction, forcing a smile.
"Oh, up and down." She shrugged. "Something's bothering him and he doesn't want to talk about it. Always seems so moody lately. It makes hanging around him a bore."
"That sucks," I said, dropping a green pepper and some carrots into my basket. Just a few more things and I could manage a stir fry, I was sure. "Any idea what it is?"
Vicky shook her head. "A bit, but it's a thing with his friends, like when he ran off that night we were shopping? Private club stuff."
"And you can't… erm, convince him to tell?" I asked, disbelief mingled with embarrassment at what I was implying.
She laughed. "Usually, yes, but he's been so moody it puts me off. He's no fun when he gets like this." She brightened. "But enough about that. Get what you need so we can go get breakfast. I've got a place you haven't tried yet that I think you'll love."
I smiled a bit. "Alright, just have to get a few more things and I'm done. Need to stop by the deli section for some meat and then I'm good to go."
"Looking for some beef, huh?" Vicky asked, grinning at me. I processed it for a moment, before the playful tone hit then I flushed and quickened my pace to get away. I didn't even look closely at what I was getting, simply grabbing something and tossing it in my basket before starting toward the front till. Vicky caught up with me once I was there.
I waited as the clerk started ringing my purchases up and I made room for them in my backpack, my eyes tracking the total cost and doing math in my head.
"Taylor?" Vicky asked, glancing at me with a grin. "You okay?"
I sighed. "As long as someone isn't making every other thing she says an innuendo, sure." I paid for the food and murmured thanks to the old woman before heading for the door.
"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not," Vicky said, still grinning. "That was just too easy." I shook my head, but found myself returning the grin in spite of myself. "You seriously need to socialize more so you don't leave yourself open like that."
I honestly didn't know how to respond to that. I just shook my head and hefted my grocery bags, looking around the shopping lot. "Right. Where's this place you found for breakfast?" I asked, changing the subject as we stepped out onto the sidewalk. I looked around, nodding to the few shopkeepers out hanging signs or such that I recognized from previous visits.
Something moved from the corner of my eye and my precog kicked in. Hissing, I grabbed Vicky and pulled her down as I ducked. She made a protesting squawk as more than half of a car ripped through the air where our heads had been, slamming into and bouncing off the wall before and rolling down the sidewalk, sending screaming people scattering.
"What the hell!" she said, glancing in the same direction I was, at the mass of blades shaped vaguely like part of his namesake. Hookwolf. The metallic figure spun into a mind-twisting mess, faster than something that large should move, and another car was torn apart with a discordant screech as it hit the living mass of whirling metal.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," she snarled, shifting and preparing to lunge. I caught her sleeve and she turned her head, an irritated look in her eyes. "What?"
"He's not alone," I hissed, jerking my head in his direction and she saw the other two. One, bare chested and wearing a tiger's mask, swiping his arms wide and shopfronts shattering under invisible forces. Near him, moving impossibly gracefully, was a blonde woman with two bladed weapons. She wore some sort of cage fastened around her head, I saw and whipped her weapons around, striking people with the blunt edges when someone got too close.
Cricket, Stormtiger
and Hookwolf. But why were they here?
"What do we do?" I asked as we ducked behind the wrecked car that had flown over our heads. "You can just go try and stop them, but… I don't have my costume and it'll take me a few minutes to go back and get it…"
I glanced around, watching as they continued to tear up storefronts and destroy cars. They didn't seem to be targeting people in particular, but while I wanted to keep my identity a secret, I didn't want to leave Vicky alone to fight them while I ran off to get my costume.
"Can't you just swat them without anyone noticing? Your telekinesis doesn't leave any signs, does it?" Vicky asked, shifting and I knew that she was going to rush into the fray within the next two minutes.
"That might work for Stormtiger and Cricket, but I don't know about Hookwolf," I said, then grabbed her out of the way as something ripped past us, punching through the windows of the car we had been using as cover. Air?
"And what do we have here?" Stormtiger growled, his attention on us. Rather, on Vicky. "Someone wanting a fight?"
"Damn straight," Vicky snarled and she shot off just like I had seen her do with my precognition. Stormtiger recoiled for no reason that I could see, then swung his arm at her. Whatever he was doing had no effect, as expected, but an instant after, Cricket swung into her path. Vicky's arm came back to punch her and the Empire 88 member redirected her momentum somehow, sending her crashing to the road, carving a furrow as she did.
Hookwolf was moving as well while Vicky took flight once again, a fierce scowl on her face. None of them gave me any attention and I frowned, ducking towards a half broken storefront and peering around the damaged window. Was it some part of her powers? I knew she had an aura, but I'd never felt it myself. Maybe that was keeping their attention on her?
I could use that. I hoped. I didn't want to run off for my costume but I was sure I could help her without giving myself away.
Vicky, however, had other ideas and slammed into Hookwolf with the force of a train, sending him tumbling away and into the street. She weaved mid-air, dodging an attack from Stormtiger that carried past and sent part of a storefront collapsing inwards, driving several people who had not yet fled to the ground as Cricket strode back into the fight.
"I've got these three," Vicky yelled, sounding supremely confident. "Everyone get out of here!"
I swore at that, trying to figure out what to do. I couldn't assume they were stupid and knowing my luck, if I took off and got my costume, Stormtiger would put two and two together after seeing us together. I didn't want to take that chance after he had seen me with Vicky. Only an idiot would fail to connect dark haired girl with dark haired cape.
Vicky swooped down toward Cricket. The Empire Eighty-Eight member cartwheeled out of the way at the last second, drawing a frustrated growl from her. I watched as people began rushing from the area, some helping those who had been hurt to get away while others ran off, ignoring the fallen.
I have to do something. But what? I ducked to another section of storefront that had gotten broken, nudging a piece of debris flying toward me just enough that it missed. My first instinct was to look ahead, to see how the fight would go. Vicky was experienced. Would she need my direct help?
Maybe I could help indirectly… Throw the three of them off-balance the way I had done against those three gang members the night before… My focus shifted away from my thoughts as Vicky dove towards Cricket, who avoided her again and made it seem carelessly easy.
Only this time, Stormtiger's attack hit her head on. Vicky went flying in a careless tumble, but was airborne quickly, narrowly avoiding Cricket's lunging strike. I glanced toward where Hookwolf was and saw that he was continuing to tear up the area, seemingly confident that his partners had Vicky at bay. They weren't hurting her, but they worked together so fluidly that she couldn't land a hit.
Vicky… Worry filled my thoughts as I weighed my options. As long as they were keeping her busy, she couldn't counter Hookwolf and any time she tried to gain height and get around them, they found a way to bring her down and keep the fight more or less at their level.
My precognition flipped on and I watched as they began herding her once again. Her irritation and anger as they bounced in and out was working against her. They couldn't hurt her, but she wasn't going to be able to stop them. And Hookwolf….
I flinched as the metallic neo-nazi cornered a storekeeper in the future, and that set things in stone for me. I wasn't in costume, but I would have to help. I wasn't going to let them hurt any more people. I glanced around quickly, seeing that most of the people around were running away and not looking back. Then, taking a deep breath, I tracked Glory Girl's movement as she dove for another strike that would, as the others had, fail if I did nothing.
Cricket moved in a way that would carry her past Vicky harmlessly and leave her open to one of Stormtiger's attacks. This time, though, I caught Vicky's arm with my telekinesis and pulled it to the side, turning Cricket's dodge into a tumble as she inadvertently smashed herself into Vicky's fist and went sprawling.
There, I broke the pattern. Vicky looked confused for a moment, then glanced in my direction for a second before she focused on Stormtiger. That would give her some breathing room from being the mouse to their cats and I could focus on Hookwolf, who was moving toward the shop that I had seen him at.
Hopefully, I could keep him away from causing more harm without drawing too much attention to myself...
