"Armsmaster" I waved with my left hand; my right currently occupied by holding a beam rifle steady, muzzle pointed right at Hookwolf's face.
"Skydancer. Glad to see you've chosen a name; it makes conversation awkward otherwise." Did he just try to smile? Man needs more practice at it. "I don't suppose you'd consider-"
"I will not stop recording." I interupted. "We both know why. So I suggest you consider what you say carefully; my stream currently has five hundred and ten viewers. Five twelve. Five sixty. ...I'm sure you get the point." I cocked my head slightly to one side. "Shall I assume that Dragon is telepresent as well?"
"You would be correct in that." He looked down at my captive. "Hookwolf-"
"Brad." I interrupted.
"Pardon me?"
"Brad Meadows. Convicted of premeditated murder in the first degree, multiple hate crimes, et cetera. Sentanced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. Escaped from PRT custody while being transfered to the Birdcage. Twice." I shook my head and bent over, pressing the muzzle of my cannon firmly to his chest as I removed the steel wolf mask. As I straightened back up, I looked Armsmaster straight in the visor and spoke aloud. "Aerial, please contact the United States Federal Marshal Service and inform them I have custody of an escaped convict. Ask them how soon they can pick up Mr. Meadows."
"The PRT can-" One of the troopers from the response team. I cut him off immediately.
"The PRT demonsterably
cannot. And it is, in fact, the mandate of the Federal Marshals to deal with precisely this sort of thing. Even by the standards of your own lassaie-faire subculture what this man has been convicted of doing is beyond the pale." I closed my fist, crumpling the stainless steel wolf mask, then tossed it aside. "A mask and a nickname don't allow you to sidestep a murder conviction."
Armsmaster visibly winced as I unmasked Hookwolf. "Skydancer; I don't believe you understand the nuances of what you're doing." He actually had the courtesy to sound slightly concerned. Possibly for my well being; more likely because I'd seen him without his helmet and knew his face.
"And I believe you don't quite get it either, Armsmaster. This is about public accountability. Showing the world what's really going on and letting them make informed decisions about how effective, or should I say ineffective, your organization really is. ...Huh, and we're now being hosted by Uber & Leet."
"The issues of parahuman gang politics are complex; I'm not sure you've got an adequate grasp on how carefully the PRT has to tread." Armsmaster tried lecture mode, it wasn't very effective.
"And that, right there, is the core of the problem. This is not politics, this is law enforcement. Lung is not a politician, The Empire is not an actual empire. These are american citizens who have violated the laws of this state and country. Treating the leaders of gangs as foreign powers is a fucking farce. Kaiser is not an emperor; he's a racist shithead who has commited crimes numerous and foul; given aid and comfort to escaped convicts, encouraged others to emulate his own misdeeds."
Armsmaster finally lost his temper. "We cannot engage in open warfare against the gangs in the streets. We don't have the corralation of forces needed to win; and the collateral damage would hurt thousands."
"You're right." I swear he did a double take. "You're also smart enough to know that attacking head on and openly would be the worst possible plan. Target infrastructure, reduce morale. Do you really think the Merchants would be as big a threat if we reduced poverty, offered free rehab, and made Brockton Bay a better place to live when you aren't high as a kite?"
"The Merchants are the least worry." Armsmaster glared at me.
"You're wrong there. The Empire is. Actually getting this city's economy back on its feet is going to be a nightmare. Dealing with a couple dozen nazi ringleaders is just a matter of paperwork." I poked my captive with the muzzle of my beam cannon again. "Quit squirming or I'll shoot you where it doesn't grow back." I looked right at Armsmaster. "There's a legal process for this. You try them in absentia; and if convicted, you start printing up posters. Wanted: Dead or Alive."
"And Lung?" One of the PRT troopers spoke up before Armsmaster could give him a glare. "I'm pretty sure he's made someone angry enough with him to try the 'high powered sniper rifle before he can ramp up' approach. He's still here."
"Dealing with Lung does present an interesting engineering challenge; but your own contact with Earth Aleph indicates that parallel realities are a real thing."
Armsmaster frowned. "Drop him on another Earth?"
I shook my head; knowing full well this was going out to over ten thousand people. "Lung had a choice, once. He was an unknown; a minor player... Then, Kyushu. The man stood up and fought an Endbringer to a standstill. Drove it off, single handedly. He could have been a hero on par with the Triumvirate. But he thought too small; could only see his own immediate gratification, his own comforts and desires. John Greenleaf Whittier put it better than I. 'For all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: It might have been'."
"That's not an answer to the question I asked."
"No, it isn't. But you might want to contact your dispatcher and let them know that I'm picking up a thermal bloom down by the docks consistent with a certain rage dragon getting furious at someone. You can be there in... twelve minutes from here; assuming your bike can handle the potholes. Stay off of tenth street south of Walsh avenue."
Armsmaster glared but went for his bike immediately, directing the PRT team to stay and keep an eye on my prisoner. "Oh, and Armsmaster? Tell the kid in black to pick their fights better. And don't forget; first impressions have consequences."
Aerial said:
Not going to tell him about your plans for Fold weaponry?
No Aerial; I'm not going to tell the public
about my plans for fold weaponry. At least, not until I've got at least one ordinance fabber up and a full combat load of MDWs. I'm idealistic, not stupid. I may not remember my mother; but I'm pretty sure she didn't raise the kind of fool who'd be Bond Villian Dumb enough to announce their plan to smear a dragon across twenty or thirty thousand parallel realities months before they were ready to actually do it.
A/N: Next up? Lung looses a fight, PHO looses its shit, Piggot looses her marbles.
