Price of Blood
Part Eleven: Upsides, Downsides and Underside(r)s
[A/N: this chapter commissioned by @GW_Yoda and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
Barnes Household
Thursday, February 3, 2011
0815 AM
"Honey, you'd better get ready for school."
Emma, still clad in pyjamas and holding a bowl of cereal on her lap, turned her head to look over the back of the sofa at her mother. "Don't have to go to school today. They're shut down because of the Swarm." She gestured at the TV with the hand holding her spoon. "See?" Part of her was a little disappointed because she wouldn't see Taylor's face after spreading the rumour that she was the Swarmbringer—
as if!—but the majority of her was quite happy to chill at home. Or on the Boardwalk, with Sophia and Madison.
She supposed that she should feel bad about all those people who died in the Swarm, but worse things happened every few months when the Endbringers attacked. People died. It was a thing. She wasn't one of them, and she hadn't lost anyone she knew (as far as she was aware) so it was like Sophia said: If you didn't move on and become stronger from your ordeal, the world would steamroll over the top of you.
"I suppose." Zoe Barnes sighed. "I wish you wouldn't eat cereal on the sofa. Can't you eat it at the table, like a civilised person?" Her tone was long-suffering, but Emma could tell she didn't really mean it.
"If I eat at the table, it means I can't watch TV," Emma pointed out logically. After all, watching TV was a God-given right shared by every red-blooded American teenager. She was sure she'd read that somewhere. "Anyway, I'm being careful." Beside her, her phone buzzed. Putting the spoon in the bowl and balancing the latter on her legs, she picked up the phone and tapped in the code to open it. The text wasn't from Sophia, which was a little puzzling. The last message she'd gotten from the Ward was "GTG, busy" and Sophia hadn't texted back since.
I'll wait till I know she's off duty, then I'll message her. Though it was probably against some rule or other, Sophia usually shared her duty roster with Emma, so that the redhead knew when to contact her and when to stay off the line.
The text was from Madison, but that wasn't the weird bit. Normally the petite girl was on point with her messages, and sometimes she had some funny shit to share. But this one simply consisted of 'Get o'. What ever 'o' was.
Maybe she got a phone call while she was texting, and accidentally sent it? Emma had done that herself before. With a grin on her lips, she texted back, 'Get o yourself, munchkin'. Dropping the phone on the sofa, she was about to resume eating her cereal when the doorbell rang.
"Emma, can you get that?" her mother called out from the kitchen.
Yeah, as if. "Mom, I'm eating cereal in my p-j's," Emma called back. "What'll that look like if I answer the door?"
After a moment, during which time the doorbell rang again, Zoe emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "Well, if you got dressed at a civilised hour and ate cereal at the table like a normal person, there wouldn't
be a problem, would there?" Her tone held a certain amount of asperity, but not so severe that Emma thought she might be in trouble.
"Uh huh, yeah, you're totally right." Her objective achieved—not having to get up to answer the door—Emma tuned her mother out and turned her attention back to the TV.
Maybe I'll have some toast, after. But she'd have to be careful with it; her mother was even more unreasonable about toast crumbs on the sofa than she was about milk spills.
If it wipes off, what's the big deal?
She resumed eating cereal, losing herself in the blissful nirvana of being a teenage girl whose biggest question was what she was going to wear to the Boardwalk later. Another TV spot came up about the Swarm, but it showed nothing new. She'd seen the grainy picture of Taylor before, of course. A smile crept across her lips as she imagined accusing Taylor of being the Swarmbringer and scoffing at her panicked denials.
"Emma." Zoe's voice, much more serious than normal, cut into her daydream. Emma looked up with innocence written all over her face, ready to promise to wash the dishes or take the trash out … later. Much later. Maybe tomorrow. Or next week.
When she saw the two police officers, one male and one female, her heart skipped a beat. Having cops in your house, looking sternly at you, was never a good situation. "Uh, Mom?" She swallowed, her throat having unaccountably gone dry. The spoon in her hand still held a load of cereal on its way to her mouth. "What's going on?"
The male cop, about the same size and heft as her father, had a notebook in his hand. "Miss Emma Barnes?" When she nodded mutely, he went on. "I'm Sergeant Pauling, and this is Trooper Jameson. We need to ask you questions about your relationship with Taylor Hebert, Sophia Hess and Madison Clements."
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. "I'm … uh, I'm not sure what you're talking about," she bluffed weakly.
The big cop shook his head slightly. "Trooper Jameson, does it seem to you that Miss Barnes is being uncooperative?"
His partner, who was shorter with blonde hair bunched tightly at the base of her neck, nodded. "It does seem that way, Sergeant."
"I'm glad we agree." He nodded to the piece of paper that Zoe was holding. "Miss Barnes, that's a warrant for your arrest on suspicion of multiple cases of verbal, emotional and physical assault against Taylor Hebert, as well as theft and false imprisonment. You'll be coming down to the station with us. Mrs Barnes, we need you to come along as well, unless you'd like to have someone else representing her instead?"
Emma stared. "Wait,
what? But—but Taylor's a
liar! She's been telling tales about this all year! How can you believe her over me? Ask anyone! Ask Sophia! Ask Madis …." She trailed off, recalling too late the text that Madison had sent to her. 'Get o'.
Get out.
"Oh, we will be asking Miss Clements exactly what she has to say," Trooper Jameson said with some satisfaction. She produced a laminated card from her belt and began to read in an almost bored monotone. "You are now under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to talk to a lawyer and have him present with you while you are being questioned. If you cannot hire a lawyer, one will be appointed to represent you before any questioning if you wish. You can decide at any time to exercise these rights and not answer any questions or make any statements." Pausing, she looked up from the card. "Miss Barnes, do you understand each of these rights as I've explained them to you?" She waited expectantly.
Emma knew her rights, of course. Growing up with a father for a lawyer—even a divorce lawyer—it was almost impossible not to. She also knew it wasn't a bright idea to pretend that she didn't understand them, especially with her mother right there. "Yeah," she said sullenly. "I understand them."
"Good." The trooper gave her a bright smile. "Having these rights in mind, do you wish to talk to us right now?"
Her father had also explained carefully that no matter how friendly the police officer, it was
never a good idea to talk to one without a lawyer present. "Nope. Shutting up now. I want my Dad."
The cops traded a glance. "That's your right," the policewoman said. "Up you get, miss. As the sergeant just told you, we're going down to the station and processing you in."
For a moment, Emma considered just staying on the sofa. Common sense intruded; Trooper Jameson didn't look exactly puny, and Emma had no doubt that she'd be dragged to the car if necessary. Or carried, for that matter. Putting the bowl of cereal to one side, she reluctantly stood up. "Can I at least get changed?"
"Certainly." That was the sergeant. "Trooper Jameson will accompany you at all times." His voice brooked no disagreement.
"No!" The word was jerked out of Emma's throat. "I'm not letting her see me with my clothes off!" She looked wildly to her mother. "Mom, tell them they can't do that!"
"Miss Barnes." Trooper Jameson didn't sound so friendly any more. "I will remind you
once that you're under arrest. We haven't handcuffed you, but that's just a courtesy. Yes, I
will be accompanying you into your bedroom. Besides, I used to work in a women's prison. You've got
nothing I haven't seen before. Now, did you want to change or go as you are?"
Emma blinked. Her mother was looking helplessly from her to the policewoman and back. She obviously wanted to object, but didn't seem to know what to say. "Mom?"
Zoe grimaced. "Emma, do as they say. I'm going to be calling your father to meet us at the station. Don't answer
any questions." She turned to the male cop. "I'll be coming with you."
"Certainly." He nodded politely to her, then pointed at the couch. "Is that your daughter's phone?"
Oh, shit. All of a sudden, Emma became very aware of exactly how many incriminating texts there were on her phone.
Say no, Mom. Say no.
Telepathy was obviously not Emma's forte, because her mother nodded. "Yes, that's her phone. Do you need it as well?" She picked it up from the sofa.
"
Mom!" Emma knew that speaking up was probably a bad idea, but the words came out before she could stop them. "That's my
personal, private property! Don't just—just
hand it over to them!"
"Actually, we will be requiring that, yes." The sergeant held up another piece of paper. "As it happens, we do have a search warrant for the phone belonging to Emma Barnes."
"But what if that's not my only phone?" demanded Emma, looking desperately for any loophole. "You can't just grab any of them."
"Very true," agreed the sergeant. He passed the warrant to Zoe and pulled out his own phone. "According to our files, the phone we are looking for has this number." He tapped at his screen. A moment later, the phone in Zoe's hand began to ring. "And that's the phone we're after." He shut off the call. Putting his own phone away, he accepted Emma's phone from her mother and carefully placed it in a ziplock bag. "If our findings are correct, this holds potential evidence of conspiracy to commit a crime."
Jameson patted Emma on the shoulder. "Thanks for letting us know it was important, by the way." She tilted her head toward the stairs. "Let's go, Miss Barnes. Time to get dressed."
Emma was out of options. Slowly, draggingly, she made her way upstairs, with the policewoman at her heels. For the life of her, she had no idea how this was even happening.
Or how to get out of it.
<><>
Outside the PRT ENE Building
"Mom, I can't believe you
did that!"
Carol felt a creeping doubt that she'd handled the situation as well as possible, but done was done. "Victoria, she attacked me from behind. You
saw it. That's unacceptable behaviour."
"Yeah, but you heard Director Piggot. If you'd kept going the way you were, you coulda got in real trouble." Victoria pulled out her cell-phone and started dialling.
"Are you calling your sister?" Carol took a step toward her. "Stop that this moment."
"No." Glory Girl lifted into the air, holding the phone out of her mother's reach. "I'm calling
your sister."
"What? No!" Carol didn't know how Sarah would take this, but she wanted to have the time to break it to her carefully, not just have it blurted out by her teenage daughter.
Unfortunately, Vicky was out of reach by now. "Hi, Aunt Sarah? Yeah, it's me. Guess what. Mom just disowned Ames and kicked her off the team. Talk sense into her, will you?"
Even from several yards away, Carol heard the
"WHAT?" that made the phone vibrate in her daughter's hand. Then
"Give her the phone, NOW!"
Victoria drifted to the ground again, and held out the phone to Carol. "It's for you."
Carol accepted it with all the eagerness of someone peeling a week-old dead skunk off the asphalt. Reluctantly, she held it to her ear. "Hello?"
"
Carol." Sarah's voice was low and controlled. Carol didn't let this fool her into thinking that her sister wasn't angry.
"Please tell me that Victoria's playing some kind of elaborate prank on me. Or that you're playing one on her."
Carol sighed. "No, it's not a prank, but it's not what you think -"
Before she got any farther, Sarah interrupted.
"Okay, if it's not what I think, what is it about? Have you really kicked Amy off the team? If so, why?"
Before she could lose her nerve, Carol said, "Yes, I have." She shot a glance at Victoria, who was standing there with arms folded. "The reasons why are … complicated."
"Oh, bullshit!" her daughter shouted. "Mom, put her on speaker.
I'll tell her." She moved toward Carol, her hand held out. "Or give me the phone and I'll put it on speaker myself."
"No!" Carol stabbed her finger at the phone, muting the call. "Victoria,
listen to me." She took a step back, holding the phone away from her daughter. Distantly, Sarah's voice echoed from the phone, though Carol couldn't quite make out the words.
Victoria scowled, and her next step cracked the asphalt. "Mom, give me the damn phone. You can't hide what you've done from Aunt Sarah forever."
"No." For the first time, Carol felt the fear from her daughter's aura that had terrified criminals for the last three years. "You can't tell her. Not without breaking the NDA that you signed."
And violating the Vikare Act. While she hadn't actually thought this through all the way before objecting, the more she thought about it, the more it worked for her.
Victoria stopped her advance and, as the aura dropped away abruptly, Carol became aware of cold sweat sheening her forehead. "Aw,
fuck." She grimaced, running her fingers through her hair. "Okay, I won't tell her about that. But Ames
does deserve a fair hearing. And you're not about to give her one, are you?"
"I -" Carol hesitated, caught between honesty and expediency. "Victoria, hitting me from behind like that proves she
can't be trusted, don't you understand? It means she's just like her father. And we can't have someone like that in the team." Watching the look on her daughter's face, she cursed the slip about Amy's father. But without that, Victoria wouldn't have the context.
Damned if I do, damned if I don't.
Victoria took a deep breath, then her eyes narrowed. "Her father … you're not talking about Dad, are you? You're talking about whoever you adopted her from." Well, Carol had always known she wasn't
stupid.
Carol grimaced. "No, not Mark. Amy's father was … dangerous. Not someone you need to know about right now."
Not ever, if I had my way. "But yes, just to confirm that look in your eyes, he was a villain. Which means that whatever genetic predisposition drove him to crime, she's got it too."
Worse, if anything. Marquis never actually stabbed anyone in the back.
"What the
actual fuck do you mean, Mom?" Victoria's voice rose to a shout, uncaring of the curious stares of passers-by. "There's no such
thing as 'genetic predisposition' toward crime! That kind of bullshit belongs with the fucking eugenics crap of the nineteen
fucking thirties! You've distrusted Ames for the last ten years because of a … a fucking
eighty year old bullshit concept that's been debunked fifty ways from Sunday? That's the kind of thing Kaiser and the Empire Eighty-Eight like to wave around!
Fuuuck!" She threw her hands in the air in frustration.
"I …" Carol paused. She couldn't remember where she'd actually read the phrase 'genetic predisposition toward crime', but it had stuck with her at the time. And it'd made
so much sense to lump Amy in with her father, because they … because
Marquis had been a danger to the city who needed to be taken
down, goddammit. She'd never
wanted to take Amy in, to see those accusing eyes that mirrored Marquis' so closely, every day since.
Why did I even agree … A phone rang, making her jump.
For a moment, she looked at Victoria's phone, still clutched in her hand, temporarily forgotten in their argument … still on mute. Except that it wasn't; the screen indicated that the call had ended. Which meant that it was
Carol's phone that was ringing.
Of course. Sarah got pissed that I put her on hold. Don't really blame her, to be honest.
"Here," she muttered, handing Victoria's phone back to her. "I've got to take this." Digging her own phone out, she swiped to answer it. As she'd surmised, it was her sister. She spoke fast, trying to get in first. "Sarah, don't get mad. I had to -"
"
Carol, seriously, what the hell? What's going on? Why did you put me on mute?" Carol absently noted that
now her sister actually sounded pissed.
She rubbed at her eyes, thinking rapidly.
How do I put this … "Look, Sarah. It's complicated, but … there's a cape identity involved. I was … about to do something unwise, and she attacked me from behind. Rendered me unconscious. I … I can't say that what she did was entirely unwarranted, but … I can't trust her any more. Not if she's going to do something like that."
There was silence from Sarah's end, and Carol checked the phone to see if she'd hung up. No such luck. At about the time Carol put the phone back to her ear, Sarah began speaking again. Now she sounded a little weary.
"So where exactly were you when you disowned her and kicked her off the team?"
"In the PRT building." Carol closed her eyes to weather the blast that was coming. "She's in good hands. Why?"
"
Oh, for fuck's sake. Of all the stupid fucking bone-headed stunts you've ever pulled, Carol, this one tops them all with a fucking cherry on top." Sarah's voice was even more scathing than Carol had anticipated, making her wince away from the phone.
"Do you have any fucking idea what you've just done?"
"Well, I didn't drop her off in ABB territory or something," Carol said defensively. "The PRT -"
"
Will snap her up in a hot Brockton Bay minute," Sarah snapped.
"If I know you, you just rejected her in no uncertain terms, leaving her in no doubt that she's off the team. So she's standing in a building that's already housing a teenage superhero team. What do you think they'll do, just as soon as they finish thanking every fucking lucky star they own?"
The inference was unavoidable. "Recruit her," Carol filled in. It made a lot of sense. "But … why did you ask?"
"
Because if you'd dropped her off anywhere but there, I would've been there as soon as I could. I'm team leader, not you. You don't get to kick people off the team unilaterally. I would've adopted her myself before I let her go." Sarah's voice was savage.
"Meanwhile, after your little performance, she's probably accepted she's off the team by now. Well done, sis. You just cost us one of our most valuable members."
Carol felt her knees weaken, and she sat down on the edge of a garden bed. "But I couldn't … I can't …"
Trust her, she wanted to say.
Work with her.
"You know what? Fuck this." It was Victoria's voice. As Carol turned to look, her daughter was just tucking her phone away again. "Mom? You know how you kicked Ames off the team? She just texted me. They're offering her a probationary Wards membership. She's thinking about accepting. And you know something? I'm gonna join her."
"Victoria, no!" Carol came to her feet in a rush. "Don't rush into this. We can sit down, talk about it like adults -" She held out her hand to stop her daughter.
"What, like you did with Ames?" Victoria gave her a single scathing look, then turned to walk back into the building.
Smarting from the rebuke—from her own daughter, no less!—Carol went to follow, but was distracted by Sarah's voice in her ear.
"Carol? What the hell just happened? Was that what I thought it was? Did Vicky just quit New Wave?"
"I'll talk to her," Carol promised. "Change her mind." She hurried toward the doors, which had just closed behind Victoria.
"
No." Sarah's voice held iron in that single word.
"Don't do a damned thing. You've done enough damage already."
Bewildered, Carol stared at the frontage of the PRT building. "But …"
"
I'm coming down to the PRT building right now to talk to Amy and Vicky, and see if I can't talk them around." Her voice became a little echoey, which probably meant she had the phone on speaker while she costumed up.
"I … I can help. Provide moral support." Carol hated the tone in her voice. It made her feel that she was clutching at any straw to prove she wasn't totally screwing everything up.
"
No. As leader, I'm suspending you from the team until I get this hot mess sorted out. Go home. Be with Mark. Think about what you've done here." Sarah hung up the call, leaving Carol staring at the phone.
Well, fuck. She sat down on the edge of the garden bed again.
Now what do I do?
<><>
Taylor
PRT ENE Infirmary
Sitting up in bed, I looked at Dad, then at Panacea and the Director. There was a doctor in the room as well, but he was keeping to the background. I wasn't altogether surprised; the only people who didn't outrank him or have powers were me and Dad. "So, um," I said, a little surprised by how well I seemed to be taking everything—apart from my initial breakdown, of course—"Where do we go from here?"
Director Piggot put her phone away and addressed me. "When you reminded me of your so-called friend and her associate, I made a call to find out the status of the action against them. Emma Barnes and Madison Clements are in custody at this moment. Even if you
were returning to Winslow, they would no longer be an issue for you." She smiled briefly and without much in the way of humour. "You see, the PRT
is actually invested in your well-being."
"Even though you haven't got Sophia yet." I still wasn't willing to let that one go quite yet. "I can't believe you had her
here, in the building, and she still got away." My tone made her grimace.
"Not for want of trying. And we
will catch her." She looked me over. "Are you feeling better?"
Obvious change of subject is obvious. Okay, I'll bite. "A little, yes. Now that I know Emma and Madison have been arrested. Though how much of what they've done is actually gonna stick?"
"I wouldn't begin to hazard a guess." A glint came into her eye. "Though I understand the charges against them are quite extensive. Your journal supplies quite a damning amount of supporting evidence; I'll personally be astonished if they don't end up in juvenile detention, at least for a while."
"
Good." Dad's fists were clenched, though he didn't look as angry as he'd been before. "I've known Emma for years, but if she's going to backstab Taylor like this, I've got no time whatsoever for her." His gaze softened as he looked at me. "It's my fault. If I'd been paying more attention -"
"No, Mr Hebert." The Director's voice was firm. "It was
their fault.
They chose to bully your daughter. She's not at fault for not reporting it, and you're not at fault for not seeing it. Ms Barnes was your daughter's friend, and Ms Hess was supposed to be a
superhero. Whatever their reasons, they have
not one excuse for their actions." She drew herself up to her not inconsiderable height. "I was a field officer before I was invalided out of regular duties into this job. For the longest time, I blamed myself for not being strong enough or fast enough to win. To avoid being injured. But then I realised the truth. What happened to me, happened because someone
chose to do it. And now it's my job to help maintain peace and order in this city. To try to make sure that nobody else gets away with making the choice to oppress and abuse others with ill-gotten power."
"I've seen the state of the city." Dad's voice was almost mild. "Two major gangs and several smaller ones, all waging a cold war over territory. Muggings and killings are almost a nightly occurrence in the Docks. What was that, exactly, about maintaining peace and order?" Once more, there was a certain amount of challenge in his voice.
The glint was back in the Director's eye. "Trust me, when I stepped into this role, the city was about two bad days away from open warfare. Now, I'd give it a week. How long do
you think law and order would last if the PRT and Protectorate were pulled from Brockton Bay?" Taking a deep breath, she stepped away from him then turned to me. "And on that note, Taylor, I would like to extend an invitation for you to join the Wards. You and your powers could be a great asset for us. To help others. To save lives. To make sure that fewer people are victimised as you were."
The breath caught in my throat. The
Director of the PRT wanted me to join the Wards.
The local Director, I amended in my head. Still, it was …
holy shit. What do I say? I stared at her, wanting to say yes. After the words she'd just spoken, it felt like disloyalty to deny what she was saying. But … I couldn't. After everything I'd been through, to give someone
else power over me felt … wrong.
But it's for a good cause. I tried to convince myself of that, but it just didn't work. The more I tried to force it, the harder it was to breathe. It was almost like I was back in the alley, my nose broken and swelling, struggling to draw air into my lungs. A buzzing rose in my ears.
"Taylor? Taylor, look at me." Panacea's voice was soft but insistent. Her hand was warm in mine. "Taylor, it's
all right. You don't have to."
It was like an epiphany. She was right, of course. I didn't have to do
anything that Director Piggot said. Even if she meant well, I still didn't have to let her trap me into a velvet prison.
I don't have to. As the realisation flooded through me, I took a deep breath of life-giving air, then another. I sat there in bed, just breathing, as my thudding heart began to slow down. The buzzing wasn't there any more, which made me wonder if I'd even heard it, or just imagined it.
"You okay now?" asked Panacea, but of course she knew. The question was for my benefit. I felt a rush of gratitude toward her for merely asking.
"Taylor, what just happened?" Dad said broke in. "You went really pale there for a moment. Are you all right?" He looked at Panacea. "Is she all right?" At that moment, he looked haggard and frightened. Almost as frightened as I'd felt at the idea of being trapped in the coils of yet another unfeeling bureaucracy, unable to escape or even call for help when something went wrong.
"She'll be fine," Panacea assured him. "It was just a panic attack. A minor one," she hastened to add, as he opened his mouth once more. "But she got past it. Right, Taylor?" she prompted.
"Y-yeah," I said, giving her a smile. "I'm good now, thanks." I turned toward Director Piggot. "I'm sorry," I said, though I wasn't quite as sorry as I tried to sound. "I can't do it. Not the Wards." Pausing, I tried to make sense of my disordered thoughts. "You had Sophia in the Wards for months, and she did what she did. I'd always be looking over my shoulder, in case whoever you brought in to replace her was the same. Or worse."
The Director's face creased in an expression that looked almost like pain, then she shot Panacea a glance that I couldn't interpret. "We do have options," she said. "I was going to make an offer for you to transfer to Los Angeles, to train under Alexandria. In fact, that was going to be my original offer. After all, I don't know that the people of Brockton Bay would take too well to a bug-controller in the Wards at the moment. The people of LA, however, will never make the connection." She gave me a look of guarded hopefulness.
"No." I shook my head again. "The Wards are the Wards. I mean, Alexandria's about the coolest hero ever -"
"Hey!" Panacea protested mock-indignantly. "Where do
I rate?"
"- present company not included," I amended, then stuck my tongue out at her. She rolled her eyes as I continued. "But she's got other things she's got to do. All she has to do is turn her back for one second, and someone in the Wards, just like Sophia, figures out who I am, then decides to make my life hell for it.
Again." I was surprised at the bitter tone in my voice. "And then all this shit starts all over again. Are they more popular than me? Will they be believed more than me? I can't
do this shit again."
Director Piggot sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, her face screwed up in what looked like pain. "Miss Hebert, I'm not trying to coerce you into joining the Wards. I assure you, that is in no way my intention. But you
did state that you wanted to be a hero. If being in the Wards is off the table, what
do you want?"
"Before you say anything more," Panacea interrupted, "just so you know, I'm actually joining the Wards myself. More of a support basis than a patrol basis, but … yeah, I'm kinda not in New Wave any more." She offered me a small smile and squeezed my hand. "Just in case, you know, that helps tip the balance."
I blinked. Panacea was leaving New Wave and joining the
Wards? "When did
that happen?" I asked.
Was this on my account? I nearly snorted at the ridiculous idea. Whatever it was about, it wasn't about
me.
"Oh, it's been coming for a little while," Panacea said, a little sadly. "But matters came to a head today, so here I am." She tilted her head. "The current lineup's nice, if a bit boy-heavy. The only other girl's gonna be Vista and she's about twelve, I think. Wanna come with? We can be the edgy ones who sit in the corner and snark at everyone else."
It was tempting. I'd been pushed down for so long, I wasn't good at socialising. It seemed to me that Panacea had the opposite problem; she didn't
like social situations, but she'd probably had them inflicted on her. I thought about taking her up on the offer. Somehow, I suspected there was a lot of snark hidden under her deceptively demure surface. But when I began to seriously consider it, I got that tightness in my throat again. Panacea must've been reading my body, because she grimaced at the same time that I did.
"I'm sorry," I said truthfully. "I really am. But I just don't … I just can't … there's too much …" I fluttered my free hand at my throat. "Every time I start thinking about it, I feel trapped. Like I can't breathe."
Panacea chuckled ruefully. "Oh, trust me. I know
exactly how that feels. But for me, joining the Wards gets me
out of the trap." She paused, and glanced at me. "Please don't repeat that to anyone, ever. Okay?"
It felt weird to be casually discussing things like this with Panacea. The world-famous healer. She could cure
cancer, for crying out loud. But here she was, a normal teenage girl with problems not entirely unlike mine from the sound of it, sitting on my bed and holding my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. In the same way that I'd held hands with Emma a thousand times before. Like we were … friends.
"Sure, okay," I assured her with a shrug. "Thanks for being understanding about it." Then I raised my head as something occurred to me. "Um, quick question. Can you, you know, fix my panic attacks or something?"
She shook her head hastily. "No." Her voice was so sharp that I realised I'd struck a nerve. She looked down and away from me.
"Oh, uh, sorry." I felt about one inch tall. "I'm such an idiot. You're healing people all the time. Here we are just chatting, and I just impose on you like that. I'm sorry, I mean -"
"It's not that." Director Piggot's voice was uncharacteristically soft. "Panacea can't affect brains."
I glanced up at her, startled at the interruption, before looking back at the healer. "Really? Wow. Shit. I'm sorry." Pulling my hand free of hers, I enfolded her in a hug. "I didn't mean to bring that up."
She mumbled something that sounded like, "S'alright." I kept up the hug and a little after that, her arms crept out to hug me in return. It felt
nice.
"Hey, forgive me?" I murmured in her ear. "I'm just an idiot who asks stupid questions, but I promise to do better."
Her head came up at that. "I'm not
pissed at you or anything," she said, resting her chin on my shoulder. "It just … hurts a bit, when someone reminds me of that."
"Yeah, I get that." We eased out of the hug, and I took hold of her hand again. "So, still friends?"
It was her turn to look a little startled. "Friends?" Her face lit up in a smile. "Sure. Why not. It's not like I've got all that many, right now."
The Director had pulled Dad away from the bed and was speaking to him quietly. I wondered what they were talking about, then shrugged; when I needed to know, Dad would fill me in. "Yeah, tell me about it," I agreed. Then the incongruity of what she'd just said registered on me. "Wait,
what?"
"What?" she asked, staring at me oddly.
"You're
Panacea," I said blankly. "You're about the most accomplished healer
ever. You grew that one President a new arm after the last one got shot off. You can cure
cancer. How do you
not have more friends than, well, everyone?"
She chuckled darkly. "Here's the thing. Sure, people are grateful. But as soon as they're used to being okay, it's 'so what've you done for me
today?'." She rolled her eyes. "And as for social situations, when anyone meets me and Vicky, they're not looking at
me." A gusty sigh escaped her. "If anyone ever tells you that powers are worth the hassle, tell 'em from me that's
bullshit."
I could certainly agree with the last sentiment. And I had a certain amount of experience with being overshadowed in the looks department. "Well I can tell you that I'm grateful not just for the healing, but for just being here. So what if you can't fix brains? I don't
care. You're helping me cope just by sitting there, you know?"
"On that note," the Director said, breaking from the huddle she'd been in with Dad. "Ms Dallon, you're still interested in joining the Wards, yes?" Her voice held its normal intensity.
"Well, uh, yeah." Panacea nodded. "Why? Is there a problem?" She grimaced. "Is it Carol?"
Director Piggot shook her head. "No. I understand that both Glory Girl and Lady Photon are in the building, wishing to speak with you. But if you
are still interested in joining the Wards, I've just arranged off-base housing for you, so you don't have to live here all the time."
Panacea and I shared a surprised glance, then we looked at the Director and my dad. "What?" I asked. "What's going on here?"
Dad cleared his throat in the way I interpreted as
bracing for trouble. "Taylor, Director Piggot's asked me if we could put Panacea up at home. You two seem to get along well, so …"
"I … what?" I stared at the brunette again. "Um … what do you think?" Just for an instant, a shaft of joy shot through me.
I've got a new friend and I can take her home now!
She raised her eyebrows. "I dunno. Do you snore?"
I considered that. "Not that I know of. You?"
"Not really." She shook her head. "Vicky used to. Sounded like a bandsaw hitting an iron spike in a tree trunk." She held up her hand with thumb and forefinger held a fraction of an inch apart. "Until I fixed it."
She cures snoring too. Damn. "My turn," I said. "Three hour showers?"
"Hah, nope," she replied. "Now,
Vicky's the reason we've got more than one shower in the house, but I never take longer than ten minutes. You?"
I shrugged. "Five minutes. Unless I'm washing my hair. Then maybe another ten."
She ran a few strands through her fingers. "Well, you've got nicer hair than me so that's fair, I guess. Um, do I have to worry about boyfriends? Or girlfriends?" When I raised my eyebrows, she coloured slightly. "Hey, it's a thing."
I shook my head. "Not dating, not looking. Besides, what part of 'high school outcast' didn't you really understand?" I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
"Oh. Yeah. Whoops." She squeezed my hand, and I felt better almost immediately. "Sorry, my bad. In case you're wondering, no action on this side either. I mean, Vicky sets me up on blind dates but I'm just not that
interested, you know?"
I grinned at her. "Yeah, that's something you don't have to worry about from me." The more I talked to Panacea, the more I found in common with her.
"Oh, good." Pursing her lips, she frowned. "Favourite pizza topping?"
"Mushroom and olive," I said at once.
"You
have to be kidding," she said with what sounded like genuine disgust. "Ham and pineapple all the way."
"Pineapple? On
pizza?" I pretended to recoil from her. "Philistine."
She wrinkled her nose. "Barbarian."
I decided to pull out the big guns.
"Nekulturny."
She blinked. "What the hell's
that?"
I giggled. "It's Russian for 'uncultured'. Only it means a hell of a lot more than that." It was something I'd picked up from reading some of Mom's books.
"Huh. Learn something new every day." Her expression was intrigued.
I turned to Dad. "We've made our decision. She can sleep in the hall closet."
"Hell
nope." Panacea nudged me with her shoulder. "You can sleep in the closet. I'm taking your bed."
"How about
nobody sleeps in the hall closet," Dad suggested, a long-suffering tone to his voice. "I'll drag the camp bed out of storage and Panacea can sleep in your room until we can get the spare room set up as a bedroom again."
I nodded. "Sounds good." I gave Panacea a mock glare. "I better not catch you wearing my clothes."
She stuck her tongue out at me. "As if I'd fit into them." She tilted her head. "You do realise that Vicky's gonna be coming by. And she'll probably drag us both out shopping. For clothes." I now knew what pure evil looked like. Specifically, her grin.
"I'm safe, then," I said cheerfully. "My allowance doesn't cover clothes shopping." Of course, I wouldn't have objected to a higher allowance, but it was a good excuse.
Dad cleared his throat again. "Uh, the Director tells me that there's a stipend for any household that puts up a Ward. For the inconvenience, you see. Your, uh, your allowance just went up."
I stared at Panacea. "Did you know about this?" If it turned out that she had, I'd be … well, mildly miffed.
"How could I?" she demanded. "I've always lived at home." She grinned. "Cool. So how much is my cut?"
"Enough to cover school supplies and costume needs," the Director said, as if quoting from a list. "Over and above the monthly paycheck and trust fund." She looked at me. "Now, if you chose to join the Wards, you and your father would
also get a stipend, just not as large as if you were living away from home. You would, of course, get your paycheck and a regular payment into a trust fund." Her tone was blunt, but I appreciated the way she was laying the facts out.
I took a deep breath. "It's a generous offer, but I … I really can't." Even just
thinking about it brought a tightness to my chest. I squeezed Panacea's hand. "But I've got no problem with
you doing it."
"Which brings us back to the problem at hand." Director Piggot frowned. "Being a member of the Wards, either here or in another city, would make you feel trapped. But you do want to be a hero. Does that about sum it up?"
"Yeah." I could see her problem, but I wasn't sure how to fix it. "I mean, I know that bug control is gonna be a no-no power in Brockton Bay for about the next year, but …" I trailed off helplessly.
"I have a suggestion." The Director checked her watch. "I'm going to be needed back at my desk shortly, but how about this. Mr Hebert, take Taylor and Panacea home and sort out their living arrangements. Taylor, consider your options. Panacea, you've got experience in this field, so feel free to make any suggestions that occur to you. In the meantime, I'll talk to my people. Between us, we'll see if we can't come up with a mutually acceptable solution."
Dad nodded. "Sure thing. Taylor, I brought some clothes over, so you can get changed before we go. Panacea, do you need to pick anything up?"
The healer shook her head. "No, this is all I've got. I'll get Vicky to bring my stuff over from the house as soon as we get settled in. And one more thing?" She looked at Dad and me, and raised her eyebrows. "If we're gonna be living in the same house, I'm Amy. Panacea's for when I'm in costume." She held out her hand to him. "Okay?"
He shook it. "Okay." Then he ruffled my hair fondly. "I'll be outside when you're ready to go."
Panacea—Amy—watched the door close behind them, then turned to me. "Ready to get dressed, Taylor?"
I nodded and smiled. "Sure thing … Amy." Something Director Piggot had said earlier came back to me. "What about your sister and aunt? What are you going to say to them?"
She shrugged. "Like I said, this has been a long time coming. If I'm gonna go, it's best to make a clean break. Come on, let's get you dressed." She helped me out of bed.
"Hey, I'm not a
total invalid, you know." I grabbed a pillow and swatted her with it.
"Hey!" She retaliated with a pillow of her own. We thwacked away at each other a few more times, then burst into giggles.
For a day that had started so shittily, it was certainly looking up.
<><>
Sophia
At the Undersiders' Base
She sat on one end of the couch, with Regent on the other end. Tattletale sat on one of the armchairs, sneaking a peek at her every now and again, and giggling uncontrollably. This was really pissing her off, even more than the way Grue was giving her the stink-eye, and Hellhound's dogs kept growling at her.
"This
wasn't my fuckin' idea," she protested, for about the tenth time. "The boss just told me to come here. I didn't even know it was you guys. I just needed a place to stay."
Regent played idly with his sceptre. Sophia knew it was more than just a fancy stick; he'd shocked her with it once, some time ago. Now, she wasn't getting too close to him. "And what if we decide we don't want you around?" He wriggled his little finger, and her knee jerked.
She glared at him. "Fuckin' quit that, asshole! I said, it's
not my fuckin' choice. Complain to the boss, not me!"
"Well, that's the thing," Grue stated, his lip curling. "None of us know how to contact the boss, except Tattletale here. In fact, none of us but her knows
who he is. Care to enlighten us?"
Sophia glanced at Tattletale, who shook her head slightly.
Yeah, not a good idea. If it gets back to him—and it will—he'll probably kick me to the curb. Calvert pulls me back in, and the whole thing's for nothing. "Nah," Sophia said with more bravado than she was feeling. "If he doesn't feel like telling you, then why the fuck should I?" The fact that she knew something that three of the others didn't know meant she had a certain amount of power. What it could do for her, she wasn't sure, but she wasn't gonna waste it over nothing. Standing up, she stretched. "Where's the bathroom? Gotta go."
Grue hooked his thumb down the hallway that led to the kitchen area. "Second on the left." He didn't say any more, but his intense glare followed her as she ventured down the short hallway and opened the door with the male and female silhouettes on it.
She entered, to find a shower cubicle and toilet commode, both remarkably similar to the setup that she'd had in her temporary quarters in Coil's base. It may even have been identical, although she'd have to check the photos to make sure. Closing the door behind her, she flicked the lock and glanced around for any easy way to spy on her. She didn't really
think there would be; after all, they hadn't even known it was going to be her. But it was always a good idea to check.
She saw no obvious spy-holes or cameras though the walls stopped at only eight feet up, well short of the underside of the roof, or even the metal girders holding it up.
Well, it's the best I'm gonna get. She really did need to go, so she removed the cloak and made the necessary adjustments to her clothing. Taking the phone from its hiding place, she checked the battery percentage. It wasn't as high as she would've liked it, but there had been phone charge cords in the living area; if she could 'borrow' one of those, she'd be set. At least until she could acquire one of her own.
Carefully, she double-checked that the phone alerts were all on silent and that even the vibration was turned off; while it was technically 'silent', she didn't need the insistent buzz that came along with it. Then she put the earpiece in and hit the button to dial Calvert's number.
It rang three times before he answered it.
"Yes?"
"I'm in, kind of," she said hastily. "But there's one huge problem."
She heard the tension ratchet up in his voice even as he answered.
"What's the problem? Do you need to be pulled out?"
She grimaced. "The problem is that Coil's placed me with the fucking
Undersiders. Did you know that they were working for him? Because I didn't."
"
No. No, I did not." He actually sounded impressed.
"This is good intel. You're doing well. Now, what's the problem? Have they made you?"
She resisted the impulse to shake her head. "No, actually. Tattletale seems to think I'm on the level. It seems that she isn't as good as she thinks." A hint of derision crept into her voice.
"
Careful." His sharp tone pulled her up.
"Underestimating your enemy is the first step to losing. You've got to assume that they're looking for mistakes every step of the way. You've got to pretend to be who you say you are, every step of the way."
"Right, got it." She took a deep breath. "So what sort of information do you want? I figure I can get their secret identities. I can definitely give you the location of their hideout."
"
Their secret identities would be very useful." He sounded pleased, now.
"And I'm pulling the location of their hideout off your GPS right now. Just remember, for them to treat you as one of them, you've got to act like one of them."
"Right, right." A thought occurred to her. "So … what happens if they go to commit a crime? Do I bust them then?"
"
No. You're undercover, so if they go to commit a crime, you go along with them. You're covered; they aren't. Do whatever you need to, in order to convince them that you've really gone off the reservation."
"Uh huh." He'd explained this all to her before. But now that she was here, it felt a lot more real. "So … we
are gonna be busting 'em, right?"
"
Of course." His voice was firm.
"But you're our best chance to do it. So I'm going to need you to play it cool until we've got all the information we need to sweep the whole operation up in one go. Do this right and they'll be pinning medals on you."
Sophia nodded. "Okay … yeah, I can do this. It's for a good cause, after all." If she were being totally honest with herself, she might have even admitted that she was kind of looking forward to breaking the law, just a bit.
"
Good. Just remember, if you need to be pulled out, let me know and I'll arrange it."
"Right, sure. Got it."
Nah, I got this.
"
Good. I'll talk to you later." The line went dead.
Sophia shut the phone down and stored it back in her top, then finished her business on the toilet. By the time she'd washed her hands and put her cloak back on, her heart rate was back down to normal.
I can do this. All I've gotta do is think like one of them.
Unlocking the door, she stepped out to join the Undersiders.
<><>
Coil's Base
"Good. I'll talk to you later."
Thomas Calvert shut down the phone. Leaning back in his chair, he allowed himself a few seconds of self-satisfied gloating. It had taken some careful juggling of timelines, but it sounded like Shadow Stalker was coming along nicely.
Still, there was no sense in being too complacent.
Time to put her through her paces. Taking up his phone, he sent a text to his Tattletale. 'Arrange a jewellery store heist. Give me details. Usual insurance.'. Her acknowledgement came back almost immediately, which told him she'd been waiting for the message.
Good.
He turned his attention to other matters. The loss of Reed was irritating, but he had other assets on site, people whom Reed didn't know of and could not identify.
Reed doesn't know who I am, so that's a dead end. Pulling the number of one of his men up, he split time then typed in a short message. 'Send me all you have on location & situation of Taylor Hebert.'
The splitting of time had been a basic precaution; if his man answered normally, he'd drop the other timeline. It was only common sense.
No answer came back immediately, but he didn't expect one.
In the meantime … sitting forward, he clicked the mouse on his computer, then opened up the encrypted and totally illegal gateway between his base and his PRT computer. From there, he tunnelled his way into the PRT phone servers and erased the record of the text message he'd just sent.
No sense in leaving tracks.
With just as much care, he retreated the way he'd come, shutting down first the connection into the server and then into the PRT itself. Closing the computer down, he got up from his office chair.
Time to go inspect the base. After all, what use was owning an honest-to-goodness underground supervillain base if one wasn't allowed to admire it once in a while?
<><>
PRT ENE
Director Piggot's Office
Emily Piggot's email inbox dinged. She clicked the mouse to check on the latest arrival. When she read the header, her eyebrows rose. Then a smile spread across her face, somewhat akin to what a shark would wear when closing in on an unwary swimmer.
I've got you now, you bastard.
End of Part Eleven
Part Twelve
