6.m
Mimi
Consequences.
Stupid. Of
course she knew about consequences.
Consequences was when
someone else punished you for
things you had NO CONTROL OVER.
... it struck her, suddenly, that she was losing. That made her
mad, she was going to burn Shatterbird, cook her until she
screamed she was so angry-
-but doubling down didn't help. It just made Shatterbird
laugh at her.
Which meant her power was
winning, she was going to die and she'd never see Elle again, never get to apologize and make up for the burns anD sHe's SO fuCkInG
MaD hEr PoWEr doESn'T
GET to WIN it DOEsn'T
With that cold, bitter,
angry thought in her mind, Mimi dropped like a stone when Shatterbird hurled a wave of blades at her. As she fell she caught a glimpse, she was sure, of Shatterbird looking disconcerted through her glass helmet, which confirmed her suspicion: Shatterbird had still been playing with her, intending the glass shards to do superficial damage. It's what Shatterbird
did, Mimi knew that after these weeks. Mimi took a cold satisfaction in tricking Shatterbird into thinking she'd failed to control her power properly; so much of Shattebird's identity was tied up in her power and using it Mimi couldn't imagine what would hurt her worse.
Inside a burning, slowly collapsing skyscraper, an office of some kind that smelled of burning human flesh, Mimi laid there, staring at the ceiling and angrily
foRCinG herself to
hoLd STiLL. Play dead. She's mad at Shatterbird, and playing dead
hurts her worse than any fire will. Her power is
AlWAys WINNing and she
refuseS to let it keep winning.
It was hard. The cuts may have been minor, but she was
covered in them. The fire didn't bother her, but the ashes still stung, the air movement still stung, the blood spreading and hardening was uncomfortable, she felt restless just sitting there doing nothing, and the whole thing reminded her of when the therapists tried putting her in a room full of fire and asking her to
meditate of all things. That all irritated and angered her but then her thoughts would wrap back to her
PoWer WinnnnnnING and she
refused. She wouldn't give it the satisfaction, and she didn't care that it's irrational to treat her power like it's a
person who is
deliberately TorMenTing hEr,
it doesn't get to wiN.
She wasn't sure how long she stayed still, listening dispassionately to the sounds of battle raging outside.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Eventually, the building's collapsing state was too much. The fighting was still ongoing, she could hear it, but it was more distant, and somewhere in between obsessively hating her power and refusing to play along because she'd die and that would mean she'd never get to apologize to Elle and that was unacceptable... it crossed her mind she should find the idiot again.
She was an idiot, but somehow what she said helped. Not a lot. It was so much
effort to fight hate with
harsher hate, to refuse to chase down Shatterbird because even though she was mad at Shatterbird she'd be even madder at the
wORld and
herself if she never made up with Elle because she stupidly got herself killed.
But it was working.
The therapists tried meditation. They asked her how she'd
feel if someone died and it was her fault, and when fire burned her feelings away the answer was
nothing no matter how much they asked. They tried drugs, and that just gave her headaches, or even
worsened her mood, made it so she slipped all the more readily. One tried a
shock collar, tried to train her with pain, but when she was on fire pain just made her mad, it didn't
discourage her. They tried so many things, and none of them worked, and the idiot's words somehow,
someway, got her thinking and it was working.
She needed more of that.
So she stepped to the edges of the building, remaining out of sight as best she could. It had been long enough it wasn't so hard to strangle her anger and hate with worse -Shatterbird being Shatterbird was fading back to memory, a distant background truth instead of something she felt an urge to
act on. She didn't know how to be
sneaky (The other Nine had handled most of that, and once she'd let Bonesaw temporarily alter her face so she could walk unrecognized in the open), but surely standing in shadows was a good idea?
She looked around, careful and watchful. How would she even
find the idiot? The idiot didn't have powers, nothing distinctive to track. She didn't know where the idiot went. The idiot was distinctive-looking, a red streak on blonde hair and a beautiful face that would probably have left Mimi self-consciously touching her own if it weren't for all the fire. She didn't get mad about her looks. There was nothing to get mad about. She'd done it to herself, for her own reasons. There was only anger when people judged her over it. So thinking about how the other girl was so much prettier than her elicited nothing, not now. Later, almost certainly, but not now.
That line of thought was really a distraction, an attempt to avoid getting frustrated. To avoid even
thinking about possibly getting frustrated, the whole thing a self-fulfilling cycle and it was failing now she that couldn't think of an answer for how to find the girl she wasn't a tracker-
-
something zipped down below, eye-catching and baffling, and for just a moment Mimi saw a red stripe in blonde hair.
No, it can't be that easy.
The girl waved drunkenly in her direction before the bizarre shape vanished around a corner.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Following a trail proved surprisingly easy. She'd learned
something from Jack's lessons on tracking, and honestly only an idiot wouldn't be able to track what she saw -a trail of marks in the concrete, like someone had tried to jam a knife through and given up just after making a bit of an indentation. Over and over, an uneven scattering down the streets.
The hard part was following the trail without being seen, particularly by Protectorate capes, mostly by jumping ahead into fires -mostly fires she didn't remember making.
Which became problematic as she got further out, into the less-effected parts of town.
Eventually, though, she caught up to them, standing up against a truck whose bed was loaded down, the contents hidden under a tarp. The idiot was standing awkwardly, like she wasn't sure what to do with herself and was tired and hurting but couldn't quite sit down.
Then she spotted Bonesaw, brown hair or no, and she saw
WHITE and-
The idiot slammed into her. "Ohmygod you're
alive I thought I'd gotten you killed! I- I thought I was
hallucinating you! Have I mentioned I have a head injury?" the idiot babbled.
It took Mimi a moment to realize she was being hugged by a complete stranger.
An unfamiliar voice from an unfamiliar face asked entirely too calmly, "What is Burnscar doing here? Why are you hugging her, P- Ch- friend?"
The unnamed idiot sniffled against Mimi's neck, and it was only because there was no fire in the area Mimi hadn't already started torching the stranger. She
hates her cape name, only put up with it from the Nine because she never accomplished anything when she attacked over it...
...
consequences...
... but before she could explore
that thought or say anything angry, the unnamed idiot pulled back in a drunken lurch and declared, "Boss, say hello to Mimi, who has problems
quite a lot like yours. Mimi, say hello to Taylor."
Reflexive politeness ground into her by her parents and reinforced at the asylum drove Mimi to unthinkingly deliver a completely empty, "Hello."
Taylor didn't respond in kind, simply staring at her, one arm occupied with clutching at Bonesaw
and why is she here? Did the idiot join the Nine? Instead, Taylor's outline distorted and stretched for a moment before rippling back to normal. "She doesn't turn into a monster. She's a pyrokinetic."
The idiot made a hiss of frustration, clutching protectively at Mimi's arm and Mimi was struck abruptly by the warmth. She can't remember the last time someone held her. The closest was hugging Elle, and
that didn't last. It was so distracting she only half-heard the idiot's response. The warm, soft idiot. "No I mean the thing! With the feelings! Fucking hell, don't you remember me psych profiling the Nine?"
What? The statement was so confusing Mimi couldn't even think of a starting point for
defining her confusion. "She can't feel
shit except anger when there's fire around! Like you and guilt and whatever!"
Taylor's gaze shifted slowly,
eerily toward Mimi's. Mimi was sufficiently discombobulated, sufficiently far from
fire, she shrank away from the gaze, struggling to remember why she wanted to be here -
a warm touch. No, no, that wasn't it. Was it? Taylor spoke up, voice still flat, but with a tiny bit of doubt lingering in her voice now. "Do you regret your actions?"
Bonesaw made a dismissive noise while Mimi's own face crumpled now that she'd been forced to directly confront her recent memory. Yes.
Yes, I regret it all. Fuck, she just attacked a city with the Nine.
Again. She burned Elle before, by accident. Burned a
lot of people, sometimes
intentionally. Never looking back on it and feeling they deserved it, always regretting it, always so depressed and- the idiot whispered into her ear. "Actually
say it, the boss is even loopier than you she won't get it from just your face, or well she won't
believe it."
Mimi wiped at forming tears with the arm not held by the idiot, who she really needed to learn the name of, and choked out a sobbing confession. "
Yes."
Through tears she could see Bonesaw rolling her eyes, which merited a glare from Taylor before she returned her attention to Mimi. "Do you intend to
stop, if at all possible?"
Mimi nodded furiously, still rubbing at tears, still struggling to remember what chain of thought led her here. What was she even
thinking when under the fire? It made so much sense at the time and now it was all just a white noise of hate and anger she could barely
imagine someone else experiencing. Something about the idiot. Why was she calling her an idiot? Aside not knowing her actual name.
Taylor stared a moment before speaking again. "There's something wrong with me. It's wrong with you, too. Maybe we can
fix-" Mimi wasn't quite sure what to make of the emphasis on the word
fix, the breathy-manic fervor behind it, too much was happening too fast what was even going on who were these people? "-ourselves
together while stopping Nilbog's plague."
Mimi blinked at that. Glanced at Bonesaw. Got that particular
look back, the one Shatterbird and Bonesaw both used anytime they didn't feel like sharing with her because she was the newbie, bottom of the totem pole, worthless. Mimi took it to mean Bonesaw knew about this plague and just didn't tell her.
Which raised the question... "Who are you people and why are you working with Bonesaw?"
"
Fixing my mistake."
You don't look like Nilbog to me.
And then she got distracted by the idiot squeezing her arm supportively, got further distracted by everyone piling into the truck, got
further distracted by sitting in Taylor's lap, held tight and warm by someone she didn't know-
It wasn't until the next morning she remembered to ask the idiot -Cherie, her name turned out to be- about
consequences.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Myrrdin
Myrrdin watched from his perch atop a roof as he fought to put out one of Burnscar's fires, Monster rushing down city streets with a teenage girl on her back and a young girl clinging to her front. "And you're
sure she killed... that many of the Nine?"
"Sure as sure, dude," Haunt shot back.
Myrrdin gave her a Look. It had taken a lot of practice to convey that in costume, but he'd mastered that particular skill years ago.
Haunt folded up her arms in response, defensive. "You know I only lied that one time to protect a kid." Myrrdin pointedly did not look at the child Monster was carrying. Haunt rolled her eyes behind her bandanna-mask. "Girl wasn't there when I came by, I dunno who she is. Probably Monster is returning her to her mommy or something."
Woosh. One burning building handled, Myrrdin floated over to another rooftop and started on the next. This was where the majority of Burnscar and Shatterbird's infighting had occurred, and a surprising amount of glass had been left behind, buried up to the metaphorical hilt in cubicle walls and other relatively soft barriers. Myrrdin winced at seeing the damage the CNA Center's upper floors had suffered. Were
still suffering as the fire caused further damage. When Haunt followed, he took a moment to gather his thoughts, not to mention make his preparations for putting out the fire. "Fine. I'll deal with the worst of the fires now that Burnscar is indisposed of, and then see if I can contribute against Crawler." Even though the
sensible thing to do would be to chase down Monster. He had no reason to suspect he'd do anything significant to Crawler, and for the moment the monstrosity of a man was contained by Di Fu Ling's gang, as well as Tidal. And Black Bishop had indicated a willingness to test how her Trump effect interacted with his regeneration, which was
far more likely to produce a decisive effect than anything
he could do.
Monster, meanwhile, had caused tremendous havoc by killing Nilbog, and while the details remained murky even these months later she'd proven...
dubiously cooperative with the authorities, possibly deliberately violated the
rules, was partnered up with an individual the Thinkertank was returning 86% odds was an escaped Vasil kid -and the psych profiles on the
captured ones made that a worrying prospect- and in general was at
least reckless, if not outright a potential
willing Nine recruit...
... but while Haunt was not Protectorate material, Myrrdin trusted her word.
... mostly...
... enough to unofficially let Monster off the hook for the moment.
Officially, he was making a judgment call that was well within his authority to make, prioritizing getting Crawler killed, contained, or driven out of his city.
I better not regret this, Haunt.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mouse Protector
"So whose butts are still around to kick?" She asked the instant she was off the PRT plane, rubbing her hands together gleefully.
Myrrdin's costume didn't let you see his face, but she
knew he was wincing under there. They only kinda-sorta-not-really knew each other from a couple Endbringer battles, but she'd rubbed him wrong right from the get-go. Serious dude trying to play off his powers as arcane sorcery, a learned and serious art used by blah blah blah? Of course she was gonna bug him.
Admittedly, the fact that she was doing it in the wake of a Slaughterhouse Nine attack was
maybe part of his issue...
But hey, whatevs. If he was really that bothered, he would've rejected her when she volunteered to help stop-gap things. It's not like he didn't know what he was getting when he okayed the paperwork -
so glad to be done with that, she would never stop being glad, being indie was
best- and taking a pragmatic perspective for a moment humiliating local villains was probably a good way to get them to back off for a bit. And any grudges they bore would be unlikely to pay off when she went home! Win-win.
Myrrdin
eventually answered. He was professional, she had to give him that: the only reason she could hear his dislike for her was because he was also clearly
exhausted. Probably hadn't slept enough in days, poor thing. "The Folk, mostly. They're taking advantage of the crisis to spread out, establish new holdings outside their historic range. The other villains are licking their wounds." After a moment, one shoulder went up in a tired shrug. "We even had a couple turn new leaves. I'm glad
something good came of this."
MP gave the thumbs-up while they both quietly ignored that a Ward had managed to die, Crawler had gotten away even though Black Bishop
had proven able to meaningfully interfere with his regeneration -she was one of the new leaves, if MP was following the scuttlebutt right, gotten pardoned for her crimes and a shiny Protectorate position so long as she helped finally
kill Crawler- and of course the whole 'city still stinks of fire and death and blah a week later'
thing. Tons of buildings waiting on replacement windows or makeshift solutions before it was possible for people to use them without freezing to death. Burned-out hulks that would probably be demolished. Ever-present police sirens because people were looting, except some of those people were actually trying to get out of town with their own stuff, and then there were the looters
pretending it was actually their stuff.
You know, the usual for a post-Nine attack.
"And hey, Jack's dead! Weirdly charismatic head of the Nine and all!" MP gave a wink. She'd very specifically gone for a mask that made it easy to see her eyes. Windows of the soul and all that jazz, right? Can't wink, roll your eyes, or otherwise express yo' self if people aren't going to
see anything.
Myrrdin was studiously silent, which probably meant he was worried the 'Wild Hunt' (snrk) was possibly worse than Jack's Nine. Mouse Protector took the opportunity to roll her eyes at him before faux-overly-politely requesting a location to go handle.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
MP decided Tidal was actually a pretty cool gal. They'd wrangled a couple of probable new triggers together, busted up a few looter groups, and most importantly Tidal had
cracked jokes back.
From Myrrdin's description she'd been expecting a no-nonsense sort. She'd been prepping all her 'annoy the moody sorts' routines she normally used on the villains who took themselves
waaaaay too seriously, and when she saw the girl it just reinforced the impression. She was wearing a kevlar vest with nothing adorning it, fer chrissakes! Like yeah that was
over an actual costume with little waves etched into it and all, but the costume had that stiffness you only got when there was some armor to it too. This was a girl who was treating the fighting seriously.
Turned out the kevlar vest was an impromptu addition. Normally the girl caught bullets with water, but with how many looters were taking a 'shoot first, run second, ask questions never' approach she'd wanted protection that didn't require she be constantly on alert, and a fan had been kind enough to donate their own vest for the time being. (MP considered asking if
she should get a vest, was Chicago really that shooty, and then decided it would hurt her image too much) Tidal
totally had flair. She'd even done up her dreadlocks into looking like an anemone! It was
amazing.
Of course, that was like two hours ago and MP kept conjuring up those memories because right
now she was busy working with a couple of no-nonsense PRT grunts to dig through corpses in a mall. Whole thing was a 'parahuman crime scene' -like any part of the city wasn't, pfff- fer whatever reason, which is to say the cops hadn't been let in -god, she'd forgotten how
annoying the jurisdiction jockeying was- and the non-PRT normies hadn't been let in and the PRT hadn't gotten around to it until just now. MP was here because of what she was half-suspecting was a bullshit regulation Myrrdin had
totally made up so he could justify a punishment detail for her. All her times being mildly annoying catching up to her, apparently.
Not only was wading through corpses harshing her mood, which was probably
exactly why he'd done it, but since she didn't have the relevant qualifications to do anything Sherlock Holmes-y she was
bored. She'd been occupying herself mostly by sweeping the area for any looters dumb enough to ignore the PRT caution tape. You know, the caution tape warning that the PRT was not responsible if you got your dumb self killed on forgotten tinkertech or delayed power effects. So far, nobody had been that dumb. Every once in a while she'd be called in by the grunts to ferry something back to the nearer PRT HQ for whatever reason.
The only good part of the whole thing was getting to see Jack's corpse herself. Which was kinda a mixed blessing there. She'd tried asking why the PRT grunts were so convinced it
was Jack's corpse rather than a completely unrelated gruesome cybernetic wreck, and they'd shrugged and said that's what they'd been told before going back to trying to ID bodies, figure out the basic shape of what happened
here in particular, and otherwise tried very futilely to organize a very messy situation.
Learning some 'Lucky Lou' fellow was dead was outright a disappointment. He sounded like a
fun villain to play off of! The grunts seemed to find it a relief, but whatever.
Ugh, so boring.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
More interesting was doing villain outreach or whatever it's called. It'd been a few years, she'd been cleaning out her ears when Myrrdin was explaining it, whatevs, name didn't matter.
Whatever it was called, it was a largely-pointless thing of going and poking the hornet's nest, asking if any of the hornets had decided they'd like to stop being hornets, and getting out when they inevitably went to sting. You know, fun!
Though Di Fu Ling had actually been just a little bit creepy. Kept snapping her neck to teleport-follow MP until MP had had enough and just blipped right back to HQ. She really needed better material for somebody like Di Fu Ling. Repeating variations on 'wouldn't be caught dead' had gotten real old real fast, and it probably woulda even if Di Fu Ling had actually been
reacting to any of it.
Bulgae had been amusing before Di Fu Ling had shown up, thankfully. She'd stuttered, stammered, blushed bright red, and tried to politely decline the very generous offer to turn herself in for a reduced sentence before going on to the glorious Protectorate without giving any offense. It brought a cackle up out of MP's throat to remember how the girl had reacted when MP had suggested she was very flattered but that this wasn't a good time for dates.
No surprise Watch hadn't bit. His rap sheet was long enough and horrible enough he'd be behind bars for probably the rest of his life
with a reduced sentence.
Also, he was an asshole. Like, seriously, an
asshole, not just a guy with superpowers doing crime.
Fun to poke at once she stopped doing the Bearer Of Good Protectorate News bit, at least. He was
soooo wanting to be taken seriously, it was
hilarious.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Getting the story about what
specifically happened with Crawler was like pulling
teeth, which sucked. Closest anyone had come in like a year to maybe-possibly killing him, and nobody involved wanted to talk about it! It had to have been
amazing.
Or at least to her, admittedly. Di Fu Ling's little gang were all very reluctant to let her talk to them, with Di Fu Ling in particular being aggressively spooky. Though at least she'd managed to startle a laugh out of the lady this time with the bit about the corpse and the doctor!
Still, when she
did manage to pull out some pieces, it turned out it was a pretty cool story of badassery, close calls, Black Bishop coughing up blood but powering on through, and Crawler beating a tactical retreat after sniffing the air. Also, he still regenerated, but he didn't regenerate anything that
countered Black Bishop and his regeneration stopped locally for a few minutes after a hit from her teleport thing. Good news all-around, if not as good as it
could be.
And then she got distracted by an
enormous zeppelin bursting out of a cloud in slow motion, beelining straight for one of the Protectorate HQs. The one MP had been dropped off at.
Whu-oh.
She teleported back.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Disappointingly, it was
not a supervillain here to try to conquer Chicago in the wake of the Nine's attack while twirling his evil mustache and stroking his evil goatee. Instead, it was some Boston newbie delivering supplies, food, clothes, blah blah blah, and MP had gotten roped into doing a meet'n'greet. Probably mostly because Myrrdin wanted to be left alone, really, though there were perfectly good security reasons to have a rapid response teleporter on-site to confirm the vehicle wasn't hijacked before any PRT personnel got up on the roof to start offloading the supplies. But really, mostly Myrrdin was a poor sport, typical of the snooty Protectorate leadership. Absolutely a factor in MP going indie, if less of one than the paperwork and red tape and blah blah blah.
Though really opting out of therapy was probably
the big reason she'd gone indie, if MP was honest. Which she was.
Always. Getting asked probing questions about whether she was 'deflecting' or 'repressing' or 'shemabilizing' (Look, MP didn't have a PHD in psych-crap) when she made jokes in life-or-death situations got soooo old soooo fast.
Though, again, getting to ignore regs was nice. If she were an
actual Protectorate Hero still, she'd have to do some half-remembered rigmarole involving a salute and fancy words when the zeppelin's captain came stepping down the very large ramp and/or gangplank -seriously, it was large enough to drive two trucks side-by-side up it. Anyway, as-
was, MP instead snapped off a lazy, ironic salute, and called out, "Yo."
Then she made a show of eyeing the other girl up and down, attention paid particularly to whatever seemed most likely to provoke a response. In this case, this mostly meant staring at the cleavage on display. As a proper Protectorate gal, it was no plunging neckline, but it was still fairly conspicuous, especially since the lady was otherwise dressed up somewhere between a military officer -no medals, of course, even
obviously fake medals were a no-go, disrespectful of military history or somethin'- and a ye olde aviator with the heavy clothing for not freezing to death back when planes didn't have air conditioning or whatever WWII fighter pilots had to deal with. MP really dug the goggles, which were the kind of shiny red the Protectorate usually vetoed as overly-villainous but in this case managed to give the whole ensemble a little something extra, an indicator the girl was a
tinker instead of a lowly non-parahuman captain in drab grays and browns.
The other girl did not in any obvious way react, possibly because her goggles were huge and hid a
ton of her expression. If she was quirking an eyebrow or something under there, it was lost on MP. Instead, she put one hand out, said, "How do you do, Mouse Protector?" in an overly-casual tone MP
knew like she knew the back of her hands -wait no better than that she wore gloves so actually she didn't see her hands much at all. The tone that meant she'd found someone who
also didn't really enjoy the Protectorate's crock of rules an' yadda, and who enjoyed every opportunity to fight against them even if it meant
looking like you were Part Of The Machine.
So MP shook hands, half-expecting a buzzer or, well, tinker so probably something a bit more exotic, but no she just got a firm handshake from a hand a wee bit bigger than her own. MP wondered briefly if that was inconvenient when tinkering, then remembered she didn't care. So maybe something a bit subtler?... MP mentally shrugged. "Enjoying myself except when I'm not. You, cape-I-don't-know?"
The other girl snorted to herself. "You mean they didn't tell you my
name as part of Master/Stranger protocols or anything?"
MP shrugged with her body this time. "I may have been thinking about more important things at the time. Tacos, for example."
"Well, you can call me Major Zeppelins, then."
MP double-taked, then gave a very
pointed look at the cleavage again. "
Really."
The other girl laughed a little. "Really."
MP remained skeptical if a bit hopeful. "How did you get
that past Branding?"
A shrug. "They were focused on rebranding me and I was already a quarter of the way through the baby behind me. I think they were focused on the military aspect of the name? They kept talking about emphasizing honor and duty and stuff."
MP grinned. "Well, a proper hello to you too then, Major Zeppelins."
Then she disappeared back inside the building with a teleport to let the PRT personnel on standby know that the security could go do other stuff and the non-combat personnel could go start offloading supplies, and promptly reappeared beside Major Zeppelins having tagged her when they shook hands. It was so
lovely how people would just politely shake hands with her without a second thought.
Major Zeppelins made an unimpressed noise, but MP brightly asked her, "So why
did you make an airborne dreadnought, anyway?" before MZ could get a word in edgewise.
This was a tinker. Getting them to talk about their work was
easy, and a perfect distraction from any faux pas one committed. Deliberate or otherwise. MZ stepped aside as PRT personnel trooped out the building with trolleys 'n whatnot to get stuff from the blimp, and forced-casually (Like any Tinker trying to not let on how
much they actually wanted to talk about their work) replied, "Oh, you know, I wanted to be able to work on projects inside it."
MP blinked at that non-answer. Tilted her head consideringly as the lightbulb went off over her head. (She still wanted a Mouse Protector cartoon. Biggest disappointment of going indie; cartoons were way harder to get started) "Ya gotta quirk to how you tinker, don't you." It was not a question.
MZ started cracking her knuckles and stretching. "Bigger projects are easier for me. If I double my scale, it takes maybe 50% longer and the result
works better. So I needed a
really big zeppelin if I wanted my comfortable lower end to be doable at all."
MP considered that. "Huh. I can see why the Protectorate would want you badly enough to put up with rebranding." Then she grinned mischievously. "So what were you
before rebranding? And how long, anyway?"
MZ went quiet in a way that MP recognized as 'ya dun fucked up'. She didn't grimace, but it was a near thing -just 'cause she liked messing with people didn't mean she enjoyed pushing people to tears, and parahuman sore points tended to be...
sore. MP was trying to pick out a good apology when MZ quietly murmured, "Villainous underling to a man I loved. He died. I didn't."
MP shuffled uncomfortably. "Sucks."
Then MZ caught her off guard by waving it off. "Naaaah.
Hurts, but it doesn't suck. Hindsight is 20/20 and I've been talking to a therapist-" MP suppressed her grimace.
Shrinks. "-and looking back he was kinda shit as boyfriend material goes. Liked me for my body and power, but
me was only worthwhile if I was degrading myself. I miss the
feelings, I kinda miss
him sometimes, but I wouldn't go back."
MP took that in, eyeing MZ with new respect. "That's a really healthy attitude. Gotta hand it to Yamada, she does good work!"
"Who?" MZ replied blankly.
MP grimaced openly this time. "Never mind, never mind, just making dumb assumptions." Then she grinned. "Hey, you gonna be coming with to crack some skulls for great justice?"
MZ turned her head, apparently looking at the offloading process. MP was pretty sure she was seeing batteries in this batch. There was an awkward silence, and then- "I'd been
planning on tinkering some more, but... it would be nice to do something a bit more... you know."
MP nodded sagaciously. Even tinkers liked getting into the fray. It was like some cosmic truism or something. Or maybe just human nature, MP had gotten into enough fights before she ever triggered and beating people up for fun wasn't exactly the exclusive domain of parahumans. Just look at Brockton Bay's infamous underground blood sports.
Headed by parahumans, yeah, but audience and participants? Regular joes, not even all of them that local supremacist gang MP could never remember the name of. It sounded like a robot's ID, it was on the tip of her tongue...
Oh, never mind.
It took five minutes for MZ to obtain permission to do some patrols locally, which MP would've found alarming if this weren't a post-Nine disaster zone. Five minutes was crazy-fast, but in an actual emergency it was totally protocol that you sought forgiveness rather than permission. This gray zone encouraged speed.
Which, hey, was part of why MP had volunteered here.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
MZ had ended up deploying in one of her smaller blimp-things. 'Smaller' in this case meant 'comparable to an eighteen-wheeler, but in the sky.' MP had figured she'd take the land route, but MZ had insisted on sharing the space with her. Once she saw inside, MP had an idea why -it wasn't nearly as cramped as she was expecting.
Maybe halfway through patrol she also had a Sensitive And Insightful Mouse Protector Moment: maaaaybe that dead villain boyfriend had been prone to riding with MZ, and having a ride-along was comfortable and familiar.
MP grimaced at the thought. Gawd, she was thinking like a
therapist. Bad brain, stop that.
In any event they broke up some looting, MZ cleared some rubble from where the Crawler brawler had been especially violent (And like any good tinker kept it for herself -she explained the concrete was of little interest to her, but the rebar was nice. MP nodded along like she cared, and then made gagging motions behind MZ's back), and MZ had actually brought along some supplies, which the two of them distributed to some of the needier-looking families. MP was particularly glad to have helped the one family that was trapped on the top floor of their building. They'd refused to
move, 'cause the collapsed stairs were protecting them from looters and whatnot, but they'd been running out of supplies and were worried. The kids had been cute and sweet. The kind of kids MP had gone indie for.
As was MP's wont, she'd filled the silence with chatter, and MZ had been totally chill. Not super-chatty herself, but not complaining either.
During one lull, MP had randomly picked at the latest local gossip, not really expecting MZ to be interested. She'd been wrong.
"Se the PRT called that new little gang the Wild Hunt, right? I hear they're behind a good chunk of the Nine deaths that happened this go-'round, but there's talk they're just the Nine continuing to Nine it up and a little birdy told me through the grapevine that rumor says the PRT only renamed them because the Nine running around for like two decades has been this PR nightmare."
MZ visibly perked up, attention pulled partially away from the overly-complicated array of controls in front of her. MP really,
really wanted to pull the giant red lever labeled DO NOT PULL. It was probably a self-destruct or something cool like that... "You mean Monster's group?"
MP frowned at that. "Uuuuuuh maybe? It's not like I really dug into them. Main thing I recall is Burnscar has maybe been sighted with them, hence part of the Nine still Nineing thing?"
MZ made a vague hand motion. "Dresses in black, turns into a giant spider or something?"
Oh! Yes, MP knew that one. "Right, yeah."
...
Hold on. "Wait, is that
their name for themselves or is it a Protectorate name?" 'cause seriously who calls themselves
Monster? Actually, for that matter what kind of cape would get the
Protectorate to call them Monster?
MZ shrugged. "I dunno. I only checked her file once, and she didn't tell me when we met."
MP started bouncing in her seat, only partially exaggerating her excitement. "Ooooh,
you met this girl? How's she fight, anyway?" Because MP genuinely enjoyed hearing this stuff and because it was possible Monster might go kicking around in her territory at some point. Business
and pleasure.
MZ shrugged again. "I didn't fight her. Or see her fight. She found me when I was dying and turned me in to the PRT."
MP stared at MZ. "Wait hold up, this girl some pundits are trying to say is just going to be the next Jack Slash...
saved you from death?"
MZ nodded. "And from the villain lifestyle while she was at it, kinda. She's
not a pleasant person, she had her buddy use her power to, I think, basically torture me? I honestly don't remember the encounter that well, I was bleeding out, I had the beginnings of a serious infection, and I was still mourning my guy so mostly I remember bitterness and anger. But she could've just finished me off with room to argue it was a mercy killing, and she didn't."
MP leaned back into her chair, pensive for the moment. "Huh." Then she promptly bounced back. "So what
do you know about her?"
MZ fiddled with a doohickey for the fiftieth time, still with no apparent effect. MP was beginning to suspect that particular doohickey was so MZ had something to do with her hands, rather than for controlling anything. "Well, the Protectorate doesn't like her. She signed up as an indie hero, turned in a minor villain and supposedly accidentally killed the partner though now there's doubts it was actually accidental, stalked the local Wards school and freaked people out, killed an unknown parahuman when they were in plainclothes, and there's some redacted bits that I kinda suspect tie into the
real reason the Protectorate doesn't like her. So far she's not even got three strikes on record, and I'd say she's at least trying to
pass for someone trying to do good, which is more than I can say for a couple of the Protectorate capes I've met."
MP nodded solemnly at that. The bad apples the Protectorate helped cover up the misdeeds of was one more in her litany of reasons for going indie. She thought the Protectorate did good
overall, but still...
MZ was still talking, though. "So from what I got trained in during rebranding, my gut tells me the Protectorate
should be trying to emphasize that we don't know a lot about her motives and situation, try to present it like she might've been raised by wolves and it's our duty to determine that and straighten her out if it's true. Instead they're mostly letting the news stations pick the narrative, and that narrative is..."
MP finished for her. "... Jack Slash's heir, hooray for feminism."
MZ snorted at the second bit. "I haven't heard
that spin on it."
MP gave an exaggerated shrug back. "Your loss." Then she went back to relatively serious. "So are you thinking redacted like 'she found out Armsmaster likes sniffing people's underwear, how scandalous' or redacted like 'we don't even want to admit there's aliens in Area 51 let alone explain that she ate them and announced her plans to conquer the world with their superior genetic material'?"
MZ was clearly struggling not to laugh, and not particularly winning. Eventually she calmed down enough to actually speak. "I really don't know. She didn't strike me as
villainous when I briefly met her, but she didn't strike me as particularly heroic either. I try to imagine her threatening to reveal unpleasant heroic secrets because hiding them is wrong and I just can't picture it."
MP stroked her chin faux-thoughtfully. "So basically all we've got is empty gossip and newscaster opinions."
MZ actually
grinned at that. "Just like back in high school."
That startled a laugh out of MP, and she decided that, yes, she
liked MZ.
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Of course, Major Zeppelins' patrol had to end eventually so she could go back to Boston. They actually bothered to exchange email addresses, with MZ (faux?)solemnly promising to help MP refine her 'drive the villain to a frothing rage while staying child-friendly' dialogue.
The rest of MP's time in Chicago was comparatively boring. Crawler didn't crawl back. Jack Slash didn't pop out of a grave and say, "What, you
really thought I died so easily?" The Teeth
did send a couple parahuman lieutenants with twenty or so normies to try to get a foothold but MP captured one and the other went screaming back home to Mommy Butcher, leaving the normies in the awkward position of either continuing to play at being Teeth and end up locked up for illegal possession of firearms, assault, robbery, squatting, yadda yadda, or give up on the whole thing before the cops came down on them with SWAT gear. So that was like a whole twenty minutes of excitement. Myrrdin continued to find excuses to put MP on dull-as-dishwater assignments.
In the end, MP found herself going home with not a
single cool adventure to lord over Ravager when she got back.
So disappointing.