Cogito Ergo Lung
I think, therefore I am dragon
This would be very tricky.
<Glad I'm not you.>
Hush.
---===---
Jin watched with a wary eye as the leader of the ABB -his leader- stopped, and took a breath.
He was changing again.
It was always so startling to see it in action, he'd seen the man do it many a time and yet, he could never predict it. Never guess at the end result. It was always different.
His leader's posture shifted, his breathing shifted, a thousand little things inside him shifted, and suddenly there wasn't a looming force a hair's breadth from erupting into booming roars and violence standing by his van.
There was a man, a powerful man yes, a Parahuman yes, Lung, but not
the Lung.
Not the dragon.
He'd faced it briefly when his old gang and their territory Lung claimed for his own.
He'd seen it when he'd watched the Parahuman stride through gunfire and the men behind the guns all to lay down his terms.
Claiming gang after gang after gang. There was a reason why they followed. What each man saw...
You are mine now.
He feared the Lung, all men did, but the man behind the Lung, that was who he served.
Power and possibility, all without showing a hint of flame, of fang, of scale.
Change complete, Lung rolled his shoulders and with a gesture, Jin and everyone present was dismissed. Lung's point at the sturdy desk phone was all Jin needed to know.
Expect another call.
---===---
As Jin and the men left, I fought the urge to let my nervousness show.
Confidence was not just an emotion, it was a posture, a pose.
Panacea was one half of the key to end what was coming.
Taylor Hebert was the other half, but each was useless without the other.
And each was not yet ready.
Taylor had been forged by her life, her hardships, and her suffering. And they were many.
Panacea had not, she had festered until June, erupted, and had been forged in the Birdcage.
They were both so brittle right now, so sharp and jagged.
So Fragile.
Therefore a mistake here and the world ends.
<No pressure.>
Well, the world was
already going to end, but there was varying degrees of how bad it could be.
Instead of with grim hope and escape from a single crumbling world, it could be in a beam of golden light and sadness to many worlds.
<Every world.>
Therefore there could be no missteps, no mistakes, no flaw.
My Powers better not mess this up.
<I'll try to keep it in line.>
This close to the door, I could hear her heartbeat, wild and erratic, even as I heard her thrash in her metal folding chair.
Further away, I heard Lee's familiar quiet breath, his near silent footsteps, his steady and strong heartbeat, the crinkle of garbage bags and the turning of a page.
The moment to walk on stage would come when he picked up the knife.
And there it was. Good, I wasn't too late.
Carefully, as only a Brute had to be, I opened the door to the room and took in the scene.
---===---
The room was dark, with only a single source of light, a small night-light. The gloom did not bother me with my enhanced senses, as for Lee, he had lived in the gloom under the stage almost as much as he had been in school.
Soft shadows leading unto nothing, this was home for both of us.
Lee was in his regular costume, though with the careful addition of large and thick rubber gloves and a black garbage bag draped over everything like a hobo's hospital gown.
Panacea faced a dull gray concrete wall, hands tied behind her back in rough brown rope as was tradition, her white robe was covered by her own black garbage bag that Lee had stuffed her in, her head poking out of a hole cut for her. She had a cloth gag made from a gentleman's handkerchief muffling her.
Everything was as it should be, Lee had followed all the steps I had written, literally to the letter.
A classic American kidnapping, with the amendments of the plastic bags to help protect Lee from harm, and the metal folding chair as they were on sale at the time.
<Seriously?>
In theory, a proper kidnapping chair would be a metal or wood straight backed chair, as armrests invite people to try to wriggle a nail out and pop the side off. But there hadn't been any kidnappings in the last couple years and, as I said, it was a pretty good sale.
<Right...>
Look, I go through chairs rather briskly.
The room itself was the only one I could find that had the right dimensions to match the stage of the Kabuki-za, all others too large or had walls too riddled with wiring or windows. For Lee to do any complicated sequences now without me, the instructions had to be for the stage, and thus the room had to be just right, or he'd make mistakes and eventually stop.
<Is he really that far gone?>
Yes. His efforts at the school were pushing what he could do, and that was using the intercom, typing at a computer, and guiding a girl to the Principal's office.
<I remember, you told him to type something until She-I- showed up...>
And that is exactly what he did. He typed '
something' over and over until she arrived. I'm actually impressed that he managed to get her to the office on his own.
In the gloom by the tiny night-light I saw his mask raise from reading to stare at me.
My being here was not a step written in the book.
He hesitated, and I did as I had always done. I stepped in and gave him direction.
Four gestures, ones could be seen and understood even in the dark.
Perform. Support. Light. Seating.
He nodded and then he looked at the knife in his hand.
Did I want it? Could I cut her gag without hurting her? Probably not. I could cut the bonds, but there weren't any spare gloves. My hand might touch her.
I shook my head and gestured for him to proceed.
Her gag was cut with a feather light touch of the blade. Lee's sharpening routine was something I may have overdone with him, but at least he wouldn't have a dull weapon by his side when I was gone.
I owed him that.
I watched as Panacea shook her head and spat out the handkerchief.
And then it was time to perform.
---===---
In the ten minutes she had been here, possibly longer thanks to what had smelled like Ether, she had gone over every step she had been taught multiple times. Carol had been very thorough in that regard.
- Appraise your surroundings.
Concrete walls, bare, no windows, no sounds of activity. Concrete floor too if her boots tapping had been correct. Warehouse?
- Appraise your situation.
Kidnapped, with no idea of her location. No idea how long she had been gone. No idea when or if help was coming.
- Appraise your assailants.
Unknown. Probably a man given the size of the one who had grabbed her. But there had been no sound, no sound at all. No warning. And not a hint of Biology from her powers. A professional. Numbers unknown, reason unknown, purpose unknown.
- If information is insufficient, try to gather more.
"Who are you? Why have you taken me? What do you want?"
There was only the sound of a metal door creaking open, and shut.
And then footsteps. Approaching her. Not the silent one from before, a different man. She knew, even without seeing him, she knew this one was bigger, stronger, more dangerous. Vicky had those footsteps when she was angry enough to forget to fly, it murdered carpet.
He stopped a few feet behind her, and try as she might, in the gloom all she saw from the corner of her eye thanks to her hood was a large man leaning back, maybe with his arms crossed, looking at her.
There was silence and his breathing, quiet, but audible, lower than Marks, lower than Armsmasters the few times she'd had to heal him.
"Those are all valid questions."
That voice.
Did people, human beings, did they ever have voices that low, without using some sort of audio software to make it that low?
He sounded like a monster, or something that ate them.
The man waited a moment, two, clearly expecting something.
"
You do not recognize my voice." Was that mild surprise? Surprise and a Californian accent. A really
really deep Californian accent.
"Should I?" While she wasn't on the front lines, she did know most of the voices from the Empire88, another effort from Carol. This sure as hell wasn't Hookwolf, or Kaiser, or Victor, and he wasn't swearing or sounding like a "Hooked on Ebonics" CD, so Skidmark was probably out...
"
Apparently not." Amusement now. "
It does make some things easier, and other parts harder. So, let us get started."
"Started?" She kept her voice calm, steady, efficient, like she had practiced. For cameras, for interviews, for the hospital, for nearly all of her life. "If you intend to ransom me, you should know, the PRT -the heroes- they will be looking for me and will pull the city apart to find me. You won't win."
Wait, was this even Brockton Bay? Had she given up some of her power by flubbing it?
"
Panacea please, please assess your situation." The man's voice had changed, still impossibly low in pitch, but softer now, calmer. "
Look at your environment. For now you are merely... captive, sitting tied to a chair." This man's voice was like Carols, one where politeness was a currency to be spent.
And then it shifted again, cold, arrogant. "
If we wanted you killed to publicly destabilize the PRT and destroy their capability to take the risks they do in this city, we would have done it without even letting you leave your house. And arranged it to look like it had been done by the Empire88." The precision of his words was like a general she'd met one time, to treat his cancers. A voice that had -and would- order terrible things done.
"
I have simply invited you here to talk." Dreadful things.
She shivered, and he said nothing, letting her feel the facts of her situation that he had laid bare.
He waited, and it was only when the door creaked open once more that she drew up the strength to speak further.
"Who are you?" She didn't stammer with her request, something that surprised her.
Something wooden was being placed down in the corers of the room, and the man, her captor, was content to wait until whoever it was had finished.
"
Yes, your first question. Perhaps a little illumination will do."
With her neck craned over her shoulder so, she didn't hear the folding chair get placed squarely in front of her until it was far too late, when she looked the quiet man who had placed it was gone.
The footsteps began. She looked in the gloom and saw bare feet and sturdy jeans. Big feet. Could she tip the chair over in time to get her mouth on his foot? It didn't need to be her hands like everyone thought...
As if hearing her thoughts the man smoothly swiveled and circled her out of range. Shit.
He strode to the chair in the gloom and sat in it oddly, gingerly, like he was worried that the sturdy metal wouldn't hold, even though it had taken everything she had tried in her struggles without so much as a rattle of a screw.
Vicky did that sometimes. Was he a Brute as well?
It was even darker where he was sitting, though she could roughly trace the outline of his head, separate it from the blackness.
Did he have horns? A Cape 53? Or was this just his mask? And what was that sound coming from behind him, like metal slowly rubbing against metal?
In the gloom she watched him raise his hand and with an incredibly loud snap of his fingers -definitely a Brute as Vicky did that as well- the darkness fled.
---===---
"Lung?!?"
And there it was.
The look, the posture, the smell of fear.
Oddly faint though.
"
It makes sense that you wouldn't recognize my voice," I began with some amusement. "
I've never actually fought any of New Wave as our territories do not overlap."
She didn't respond, still coming to grips of the situation she was in. I'd give her some time to process.
"
Still, let's not let such trifling things like lack of violence get in the way of our conversation."
More silence, and even I was getting a trifle put out over it.
"
If you are trying to remember if your sister has harmed any of my men, and thus earned my ire, she has not." I said, watching her evasive gaze. "
Nor has New Wave."
All right, something was wrong. People have checked out mentally when I was directly in front of them, usually when I was angry, but not like this. Thus I needed to know; Was she broken even this far back?
<I hope not.>
Nor I.
There's a little trick to destroying your chair as you burst forward roaring and emitting flame, it requires you holding onto the frontmost legs of the chair with your toes as you kick off into a lunge. Done right it looks spectacular, done wrong and you fall on your ass or stumble.
I had the practice, And it was only ten steps.
I didn't need flame or roars this time, just the fire behind my eyes was enough as I stopped inches from her face, my mask gleaming in the torchlight.
I breathed on her, hot, just shy of scalding, a cloud of steam as it often was.
She flinched.
But not away from me.
She lurched towards me trying to touch her forehead to mine just above the mask.
I stepped back a half-step.
This was bad.
<What is it?>
"
Interesting." I rumbled, our faces were close enough that she could see partly in my mask. I made sure she saw my grin, fake as it was. "
You are so much like Lee right now."
<I don't understand.>
She was like a cloth worn too thin, showing what lay beneath it. A treat for those who want to use her...
<Without the cringey metaphors please.>
Honestly Taylor, did you think only Tinkers and Thinkers had their minds messed with?
Did you think Lee was unique? His is a more obvious example of Powers affecting minds, but hardly the only one.
Did you think it was bravery that drove you to face me a lifetime ago? Altruism? Heroism?
All you needed was an excuse.
"
Let us begin our business." I gestured for Lee to bring two more chairs. "
It is a school night after all. You need to be home soon."
---===---
By the time Lee had brought the chairs, and been told to sit in his with a gesture, Panacea had regained her composure, but I was still wary.
If this what was Brandish -Carol- had to deal with, I could understand the short leash she kept this girl on. The routines and habits she tried to drill into this girl.
Before having Taylor shoved in my head, I always wondered why at least half the Parahumans I met, myself included, had to fight the urge to relax, let go, and be.
That was before, now I knew, though it didn't do the slightest to help in my case or Lee's. But it did mean I had the perspective to see a different approach.
"
Your question to me: Who are you? Funny you should ask that." I began, watching her carefully. "
I was going to ask the same."
She watched as I reached for my mask. She flinched as I took it off in front of her.
A Taboo, even amongst New Wave.
"
My name is Kenta. What's yours?"
Another bout of silence.
"
Honestly," I scoffed. "
New Wave doesn't rely upon masks, don't hide their names, and yet here when I offer mine, you act like all the rest."
There was a reason, a very potent one.
<What do you mean?>
Another facet of disassociation, of separating what's human from what's not. It's something I noticed only due to my many roles on the stage. Powers, the idea of a secret identity, it was another facet of their control.
<How so?>
Would Taylor Hebert confront Lung? No. Never.
But Skitter would.
Weaver would.
Khepri would.
<And with each name...>
The further in you went. The further you stepped away from little weak Taylor. From being human.
Lost in the role.
"
Answer me." I was done waiting. "
Your name is?"
"P-Panacea." She was rattled, good. It would prevent her from hiding things.
"
Incorrect. That's what you are. Try again."
"Amy." She paused to swallow nervously. "Amy Dallon.
"
Wrong." My voice was louder now. "
Try again."
"It is!" Her voice was shrill, panicked. "I am Amy Dallon!"
"
No." I said with the finest cruelty my voice could produce. "
No it is not. And deep down you know it."
"I am Vicky's sister!"
I gestured to Lee to unmask, and he did, with the calmness that only an empty man, a man who had no real identity anchoring him, could perform.
"
So that we are all on the same page here, let me tell you who we all are." My voice made this a true command.
"
I am Kenta, He is Lee, and you..." I paused for just long enough to make the words sink in like blades. "
You are Amelia Claire Lavere, Daughter of Marquis the Supervillain."
I gestured and Lee held open the folder, and let her see the adoption papers, and the photo of the man paperclipped to the top.
---===---
Always know the downfall of those you stride past, lest you join them in the sand as nothing more than a step for the next.
My father taught me that, and many other things, back when he was alive and my home was above the waves.
I had spent considerable effort and money in figuring out how Marquis had been beaten. The man was like me, a sole force of contention, and like me he reveled in being a Super-Villain. In my case it was because I had so little else left to be, in his case even though he had an anchor, a daughter, he couldn't give it up. He was enamored with being the Marquis not the man.
Lost in the role.
How then did a man who never left the role, had faced many, how had the then named Brockton Bay Brigade defeated him?
Money had to change hands for me to get access to the police reports, what they were permitted to know.
And what they knew and had photos of, and much more importantly what was missing told ever so much.
That human weakness, his daughter was in the crossfire, even if it was covered up.
Hardly Heroic.
Anyone with working eyes could tell that Panacea wasn't a Dallon by genetics, though no one said a word. No one dared.
More money had to be spent to find out just where the girl had suddenly sprung from. Which adoption agency, existing in paper only, told me that she wasn't the first, nor likely the last.
Anyone with a decent photograph of Marquis could see the same hair, the same lips.
Watching the man get sent to the Birdcage, his face on television as proof that the Heroes had been triumphant, that had been easy.
If just finding the paperwork of the adoption was terribly hard, the conclusion was a nightmare. It had been buried by someone with vast skill in bureaucracy. But money helped, as did a knife to the throat of an office worker here and there.
When I was just Lung, I knew what I was seeing with New Wave. Indoctrination, enforced conformity, exploitation of assets, accumulation of favors. Like a crude mini-Yangban, and a pattern I'd seen repeated across Japan, China and America.
It never changed. Use the humanity of the person behind the power until neither person or power was useful any more. And when the humanity was worn away, dispose of it.
At the time I had accepted it, and when I had faced the Empire 88 forces one time, in my idle thoughts I had built a simple scheme around it to help Lee if I ever fell. Though apparently with Bakuda turning all my men and especially my lieutenants into living bombs, it seems no one had seen fit to actually give my plan to Lee. Thus his end at the Slaughterhouse.
In fact, given what I know, I could use this.
---===---
I listened to her near silent sobs, heard the tears drip onto her robe.
"
Interesting, isn't it?" I rumbled contentedly, keeping my nervousness from my voice with steady practice. "
How so much clicks into place because of what I have just said and what you have just seen. The looks Brandish gives you, how your powers differ so much from the rest, how you are used and exploited."
This was for the best, like an old bandage, it had to be yanked off cleanly, not picked at and left to gather filth underneath to fester. Lisa had been wrong in her approach. It was fine for an attack, but without actually killing Panacea, it festered, and courted disaster.
<Fucking Thinkers.>
Indeed. Including us, technically.
"
You see, originally I was going to wait and use this information on you as a bartering chip." I leaned back carefully, this was a decent chair, but they had limits if I wasn't careful. "
I would wait, watching for a prime moment of despair from you, and then bring you here and show you that photograph of the man, then show you the copy of the paperwork of your adoption. I'd trade the information of your identity in exchange for helping Lee."
She sniffled, still tied to the chair.
"
I would use you, and then discard you."
And I would have, the moment I thought it best. At the time though I knew like everyone that "Panacea didn't do brains", Heroes had died in her care at times because of it, so I had no reason to doubt the fact. So it had remained a final attempt when all others had failed. A 'hail mary' play as they say.
But I knew differently now. Not only in what she could do, but would end up doing. End up being.
Prisoner 612.
And the second piece of victory.
All I had to do was give in and follow the script...
"
But now I won't."
---===---
I waited. Waited for the sobs to stop, waited for the lanced boil inside her soul to drain. I'm good at timing these things.
"
Instead, I'm going to give you everything you've ever wanted, and watch it destroy you." I felt the dark viscous glee from deep within me bubble up. Taylor felt it too, I could feel her try to stop me.
INTERESTING.
But I was Lung.
And I would not stop.
"
And then you will be mine."
---===---
"
Lee, some drinks. Though with our guest here and the time, it'd be best if it didn't have any sugar. Fetch the filtered water from the back."
Lee couldn't be trusted to go to the store any more. Too many steps to process, sometimes he'd forget to pay, or forget to take the items, and it was getting ever the smaller how many steps he could do now. The kidnapping of Panacea, alone, without any of the Lieutenants to assist him, was beyond what I thought he was capable of any more.
But he could fetch things if he knew where they were. Still kidnap a person, drug them, and put them in a van. He could even drive if he was told where to go.
He stood up and left, leaving me alone with Amelia.
Panacea.
The Supervillain.
With the emptiness of built up pain leaving, the catharsis turned to anger. Rage. Hate.
At the man in front of her. Lung the Parahuman. Lung the Monster.
Not my fault, but I was the target nonetheless.
I often was.
I saw it all in her eyes, her posture, her breath. I had seen it many times on many people, often before I killed them. That this person could end the world with literal biblical plagues didn't matter.
For I was Lung.
"What do you want?" Her voice was tight with anger. Controlled though, like it should be with a Villain.
"
Your third question, yes. But first let's deal with your second. 'Why have you taken me?' The answer to that will lead to the third."
"Which is?"
"I need your help." Four little words, how they hurt to admit.
"Funny way of asking for it." She was trying to goad me now. My admission had given her the power in our meeting, now, and she used it only like a petulant teenager would. "Make an appointment like all the rest."
"And end up like Clockblocker's father?" I shook my head, amused. "No thank you."
"What do you mean?" This wasn't how she was expecting this to go, and it showed.
"He triggered because of his father's collapse, likely the desire to extend his time with the ill man. The illness you could fix with a touch, and yet you have not."
"He's in my queue." She protested. "I'll get to him."
"You won't. I've checked. They won't let you."
She didn't understand.
"If you heal him, they get his loyalty yes, but they don't want that. They have plans for him." My voice hardened. "And for him to perform like they want they need a leash he can't escape. You."
"Plans? What plans?"
"They intend to use him to stop the Leviathan. Literally in his case."
---===---
"You see child, they want to
kill the Endbringers, not just survive them or repel them, but destroy them utterly." It was obvious when you were a very intelligent twenty foot tall monster and had Lee operate the mouse for you. "And so every time a new Ward or Hero or Rogue appears with an interesting power, the Thinkers in the back rooms get to work. Theories are produced, tested. After that, all they need is consent."
I should know, I was one of those. How much leeway I had thanks to a tussle with an Endbringer, though to be fair, I was the only human being alive who had done so solo.
"As soon as the warning signs of one of them are found, three core forces are swiftly made: Yours, Panacea, is healing, defense, mitigation. The second is called offense, but is really buying time until Scion arrives. The third... is the real attempts to kill the Endbringers."
She had been at many battles herself, she'd seen the forces allayed against them.
"Small, discrete teams are tried, a Tinkered weapon here, a pairing of powers there, just to see if it can work, and with Clockblocker it is no exception. They want to see if he can stop the Leviathan, buy them the time needed to deploy the really devastating things they have. If he can stop the Endbringer, worst case, they reduce the damage the Leviathan causes, best case, they may hold him still long enough for Scion to drift over and have a clear shot."
So many things had been tried against the Endbringers, and where nuclear weapons failed, and thus the ultimate might of a non-powered individual, Scion and by extension Parahumans had been at the very least successful in injuring and driving them away.
"But he is both a Ward and underage, so consent is needed. And what is an entire city to one teenage boy and one father?" I shrugged, knowing they'd done far more for far less. "They'd quietly give him the offer: Save the world, save your father, just do one little thing; Reach out with your finger."
Her expression was thoughtful now.
"So no," I concluded, "No appointment for me."
---===---
Lee had returned with the water, and I had to ask him to get a straw for Panacea. Untying her hands and giving her something she could splash me with was just begging for a disaster.
I preferred my water filtered thoroughly, with my enhanced sense of taste most local tap water was unpleasant. Except Japan's, but even then with my home under the sea, I'd never taste anything quite like it again.
"
And now, the third question. 'What do I want?'"
"I think I can figure it out." She said around the straw. Lee was carefully holding the bottle of water in his thick rubber elbow length glove. "You already said to help Lee." She looked up at his face. "Since I haven't touched him, what's wrong? Cancer? Leukemia? AIDS?"
"
It's his brain, And don't," I held up a finger to forestall her, "
Don't tell me you can't do brains. I know you can."
"And how would you know that?" She wasn't surprised, not really. The PHO was filled with debates and conspiracies after all. "We've been very careful. I've..." She trailed off.
"
Let people die." I finished. "
I know."
She flinched at that.
"
And to ensure I would get your help, in light of that fact, I took steps to guarantee it."
"What steps di-" was all she got out before I continued.
"
Dean and Vicky, sitting in a tree," My voice was simply terrible for songs, even childish ones like this. "
K-i-s-s-i-n-g."
It was so bad it even made Lee twitch. Just a little.
"
What? Dean's name isn't enough? Fine then. Carlos, Dennis, Missy, Sophia, Chris, Rory..." My voiced hardened. "
Do you want more?"
"How-"
"
When you healed them all, did you fix the scar on Missy?" I pressed. "
The one she told no one about? Ever?"
She was silent.
"
I have more. Names, addresses, dates, times, secrets."
My eyes gleamed. "
So many secrets."
---===---
Did I know?
That's what was written on her face, in her body language, in the surging tang of her fear.
Did I know?
"
You lust for your sister. But do you know why?"
I certainly did.
"How-" She managed to get out awkwardly. More than the last one, as a matter of fact...
"
Please. Let's save ourselves the time and you the pain of being tied to the chair longer than you have to."
Something was mixing with her sweat and her fear, and I could hear the ropes slowly being dissolved, some sort of acid from the bacteria she'd changed. A fungus perhaps?
I sniffed loudly, no matter. "
Assuming you haven't finished dissolving the ropes yourself and I have to get Lee to fetch some steel wire or chains to rebind you in."
I dragged my chair closer, letting the screech of the metal on the cold concrete reverberate around the room.
We were close now, My chair pulled up, all so my tail could discretely loop around and touch her ankle.
Ah, that is why she was so quiet. That last sip of water, mixing with her saliva, pooled under her tongue, mixing with the bacteria in her mouth. Hard to enunciate with that.
She was making something. I couldn't tell what, not from a simple touch, but I could tell she was up to something. And with me there was no chance it was anything good.
THREAT
My body was reacting, I could feel the itch of scales, she could see them slowly creep out of my skin, creep up my face.
But she wasn't worried. In fact, I saw what had to be anticipation flicker under her hood.
She wanted the scales, but why?
Oh, I see...
TOXIN
I'd need the opposite of heat then.
Taylor, tell it to pull all the warmth in, like I was going to use the claws again. Make me very cold. No heat.
<I'll tell it.>
I knew that look.
INTERESTING.
I was barely ready in time when she leaned forward and spat in my face.
---===---
It was acid, it was disease, it was some sort of nerve agent, and it targeted the two things that everyone knows Lung has in abundance. Metal scales and heat.
I only gave it the one.
With the immense cold, it stuck to the scales on my face, froze solid, and failed to react.
Do not pull the scales in, instead I thought very carefully to shed them. I had done it before, though it wasn't precisely me who had done it.
Panacea watched as her attack on me did nothing, watched as I shook my head with a snap and suddenly the scales were gone, clattering to the floor, exposing my human face once more.
<That was close!>
Indeed, but they must never know that. Instead I let out a long, cold, misty sigh.
"Lee, fetch the dustpan and brush in the corner. Sweep the scales up, put them in a tupperware container, and put the container in the freezer." The orders had to have little room for error, and I'd watch him do most of it, as the freezer was in the warehouse's break room. "Then come back when you finish."
<Why did she do that? Why is she like this?>
Didn't you see her twitch when I said the word 'secrets'? Hear her now muttered sub-vocal words, she knows I know, and she was willing to die to keep that secret from coming out. Suicide by Cape. Suicide by Lung.
<She wasn't this bad with me, even after Lisa...>
I do bring out the worst in people.
"So, have you got all that out of your system Amelia?" I couldn't help but smirk slightly at my subtle pun. "It's good to see you aren't too far gone, that attack would only affect me, yes?" I didn't wait for her confirmation. "Then you are still sane enough to bargain."
She actually mouthed the word 'bargain', clutched at it, and from my tail I noticed she finally stopped trying to make something that could get around her own Manton limitation for self-harm.
"Lee needs help. His powers..." I hesitated, trying to word it correctly. "It's grinding him away. There is so little left of him."
I turned and watched him sweep for a moment, my words didn't bother him. So little did now.
"And, you can in fact do brains." I wasn't looking at Panacea, I didn't dare. This close, without my mask, my scales, my flame, Lung would be vulnerable, and she would see it in my eyes.
"I understand." Her voice was calm. Too calm. My gaze swept over to hers, weakness be damned.
"No. No you do not." I said firmly. "But that doesn't matter now, does it?"
"I help him, and I get... what?" She studied me. "My secrets kept?" An eyebrow raised. "Until you need something else?"
"No. As you could easily counter with time-delayed obesity or weaponized Alzheimer's." She didn't look surprised, or sheepish, that I knew she could do that. "In exchange for a secret, an answer, and a promise."
She didn't like my smile, or my words.
"The secret, of who you are and where you came from, has already been given."
"The promise I've already told you; I'm going to give you everything you've ever wanted, and watch it destroy you."
My eyes burned, I didn't even deliberately do it this time, but I could feel it all the same.
"
All that remains is the answer."
---===---
There is debate over how many angels can dance upon the head of a pin. Let them ponder.
There is no debate over how many devils can dance upon the point. Only one. A single victorious devil on top of an impaled loser who provides the dance floor.
This was the only way.
Rather, the only way without her entering the Birdcage.
I had to be her crucible.
---===---
"
Lee, touch her face with your bare hand."
It didn't take long, even with her still mostly tied to the chair. Lee took off the garbage bag and thick rubber gloves, then without a word offered his hand.
Thanks to my tail touching her boot, I watched but didn't understand. Unlike Taylor's power, it wasn't one she had had, nor was I connected directly to her nerves like I had been with Assault, Vista, or Miss Militia.
I was wary of trying that with a biokinetic, as connecting your biology to theirs just smacks of a bad idea.
I knew she was doing something in his mind, but I couldn't comprehend it. She adjusted telomeres, tweaked protein sheaths, shifted dendrites, and destroyed and rebuilt oligodendrocytes, yes, but what did that mean?
And then she was done, though I wasn't supposed to know that, and I waited for her powers to let go.
"All done?" I asked quietly.
"Yes." I was impressed at how much distrust she generated with a single word. She'll have to work on that.
"Then let us see the results." I looked from her to my friend. "Lee, how do you feel."
Slowly he stood. "I feel...
different."
Damnit Lee, could you be any more vague? And no, Lung will not say 'Good different or bad different?', I will not give Panacea the satisfaction.
Instead I leaned back in my chair carefully and crossed my arms.
"Allow me." Panacea really had to work on her innocent act, it was abysmal. "Lee, you feel better right?"
He nodded. "I do."
His gaze was riveted on her.
"Good. Then be a dear and kill Lung for me."
