Brockton Bay
The morning tranquility at U&L studios was interrupted by someone knocking at the door.
"I got it," Uber called out while checking his watch. "It's probably your ten AM appointment." There was another knock at the door before he could open it to reveal Danny Hebert. "Good morning, Mr. Hebert. My partner will be with you shortly."
"Thank you, Uber," Danny said as he walked into the rather sparse waiting area they had, consisting of a couple of chairs by the door and a table made out of a recycled cable spool.
"Can I get you anything?" Uber, at least, knew how to run an office very well and be a good host. He was often the more public face of the duo, and had applied his Power into being able to do that skillfully.
"Some coffee if you have it, please."
Within thirty seconds, a cup of very good coffee, pleasantly warm, was placed in Danny's hand. "I'll go see what is keeping–" There was a rumble from somewhere in the building, and the sound of something breaking. Uber sighed. "It's too early in the morning for this," he grumbled.
"I'm OK!" Leet could be heard to cry out from wherever he was in the building. Then something crashed to the floor with a lot of noise.
"Less OK!" came Leet's voice.
Danny politely stifled a laugh. "You better go see what happened to him," he said. "I can wait for a bit."
Uber shook his head. "I better go see what happened
this time," he muttered. "Shouldn't be too long."
Indeed, the wait was quite short. Uber returned, nearly dragging a freshly scrubbed Leet with him. "Hi, Mr. Hebert," Leet said, shaking Danny's hand. The three of them walked over to the small office they maintained just off the entryway. Sitting down in much more comfortable chairs than they had in the waiting area, Leet wasted no time. "So, you wanted to see if Welshie and her group can be chartered for the DWU's annual fishing expedition?"
Danny nodded. "Taylor made the suggestion, and the seafood that Hermione gave to the Union a month ago was very good. So I'd thought I'd ask."
"Hold on," Leet said, picking up a phone. He rapidly sent a text message. His phone made an odd sound, and he read the return message. "Anytime after the Fleet Week event," he read. "They've got obligations from the Royal Navy for that. She'll be around to your office tomorrow with Hermione to discuss particulars. Um, do you think anybody would object to them bringing a couple of guests on the trip?"
- - - - - - - - - -
"Do I hafta do this?" Aisha whined as they approached the PRT building.
"Yes, you both do," Jordan Laborn, Aisha and Brian's father said.
"I still think this is a bad idea," Brian groused.
His father was not a small man. A bit out of shape, perhaps, like those used to perform heavy labor but no longer do. The issues he'd had with Aisha were solely related to a man who liked things calm and uniform dealing with a being of seemingly primordial chaos even before she Triggered. He was also a survivor, living in Brockton Bay through the days of the Teeth, March, and Allfather's Eighty-eight. His glare alone was enough to make Brian think he shouldn't have disagreed with his father.
"I understand that you have reservations about the PRT," Mr. Laborn explained. "So do I. I understand that both of you have gotten into some trouble." He fixed Aisha's unrepentant face with a stern glare. "I'm not asking you to sign up for the Protectorate or Wards. I'm asking you to go in and get tested."
Brian nodded. "Yes, sir," he answered respectfully. He nudged his sister.
"Ow! Yeah, OK, I'll do it," Aisha griped.
"That didn't hurt, and you know it," Brian answered, rubbing his elbow. "What are you made of now, anyway?"
Mr. Laborn sighed. "Will you two knock off the comedy routine?"
"Yes, Dad," Brian and Aisha said in unison, before giggling.
"Why me?" Mr. Laborn muttered half-heartedly. "Come on, let's go in."
- - - - - - - - - -
The afternoon found Taylor, Vicky and Amy all sitting around a table at an ice cream parlor, each enjoying their own favorite flavor of hand scooped goodness.
"Fortunately, I avoided having summer classes," admitted Taylor, "but only
barely. Had I not gotten my classwork caught up when I did, I'd still be in school."
"Yeah, Winslow did you no favors," added Vicky. "Still, that's over and done now. And if you can catch up like that, think how much better you'll do next year. So, since you're free, what've you got planned for the summer?"
"I think we're doing something up at Mistlands," Amy said. "Should be pretty soon."
"Sounds more like summer camp," Taylor added. "Natalie's told me she wants to invite all of you out there at some point." She licked some more of her death-by-chocolate cone. "It'll be interesting."
"Don't curse it," Amy stated. "The universe hates certain words and phrases, 'interesting' being one of them."
Vicky got a devious look on her face. "How about 'Cape fiction'?"
"I try to stay away from PHO's Cape Fiction pages," Taylor noted with a shudder. "HereBeDragon's fiction library is much better, though it doesn't have nearly as many modern stories."
"No one knew that there were any dragons still around," Amy added. "So most of the stories were set in earlier time periods or outright fantasy worlds. Or that Pern place. That's starting to change with the newer stuff, though."
"Still gotta be careful. Some writers get – strange. Like that Cape lizard thing. Funny at times, but very weird. And they're cross-posting it to HereBeDragons."
"There are a couple of authors who are good, and who have the decency to not use
real Capes in their stories. Phi_Listener's stuff is good – his main story is a doorstop – and some of Blargle's stuff is hilarious." The other two girls turned to look at Vicky like she'd grown a couple of extra heads. "However," she said with great seriousness, "never read Dennis' stories. His snippets are awesome, his attempts at anything longer than a page are pure suffering."
- - - - - - - - - -
Dennis sneezed while he was helping his dad with the yardwork. He stopped for a moment, looking around.
"Why'd you stop?" his father yelled from the garage.
"Couldn't tell ya," Dennis yelled back to his father. "Had to sneeze, though."
"Someone talking trash about you?" his father responded before laughing.
"Wasn't me!" Hailey called from the house, where she was helping Dennis' mother with something.
A calculating look crossed Dennis' face before he engaged the drive on the walk-behind mower and continued cutting the grass.
- - - - - - - - - -
Ice cream deliciously dealt with, the trio of girls soon made their way to the Boardwalk. As they were doing some window shopping, Taylor noticed the man mentioned in one of their security briefings looking at them.
Nonchalantly, he tipped an imaginary hat to them, and kept walking.
Amy noticed the man as well, and frowned slightly.
"Keep walking," Taylor whispered. "Suddenly, and I may soon regret my words, I think I need a new swimsuit." With that, she entered the boutique with a grumbling Amy and a smiling Vicky behind her. They were soon browsing the clothing racks of stylish women's swimsuits.
"Not that I'm complaining," Vicky said in a quiet voice, "but why did we duck in here?"
"There is someone who is out to cause trouble for a certain Ward," Taylor quietly explained. "That was him."
"Bastard Son of the Elite," Amy explained. "I've healed him after one Endbringer fight, though it was under protest. The man's a nutcase," she finished. "I think this one will look good on you." She'd pulled out a rather nice looking red-and-gold two-piece suit.
- - - - - - - - - -
Well, well, well, Boyce thought to himself as he watched the girls retreat into a store.
The information our moles had been able to get out of the PRT's system was accurate. Amy Dallon was known to most Capes, as was the penalty for doing her harm. That started with getting punched very hard by her sister, Victoria Dallon. Aka Glory Girl, or if you were being rude, Glory Hole. Things went downhill from there quickly, usually ending with Eidolon or Legend getting the rather final say in the matter.
Bastard Son, somewhere in the back of his under utilized brain, realized that if he went after
that dragon masquerading as a teenager at her home, he'd be dogpiled by every Cape in the city. And there were a lot of Capes in Brockton Bay. However, the need for things like caution and common sense were offset by his complete lack of concern for anyone else and the desire to have several unique trophies to rub in everyone's face.
He continued his walk down the Boardwalk.
From a nearby alleyway, a set of inhuman eyes looked at the copy of a picture they were carrying, before disappearing into the darkness with a sinister sounding hissing laugh.
Boyce Sanford, aka Bastard Son, felt a millipede with blocks of dry ice attached to every foot make its way down his spine.
)
