Wyvern - Worm AU fanfic

[TypoNinja]

While probationary Ward status seems to stand on different legal foundation

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It probably wouldn't be legal outside of shithole settings like Worm.

The PRT has sole jurisdiction over parahuman crime. You're a parahuman who committed a crime, join us and we'll decline to send our case against you to the prosecutors office.

That setup pretty much starts with 'conflict of interest' and goes downhill from there. its got separation of powers issues, unintended consequences that undermine the purpose of the organization by encouraging a law enforcement department to not prosecute criminals, puts the arrest and prosecution powers into one agency, and a bunch of other little things just begging for corruption and abuse of power. You pretty much need Cauldron level bullshit conspiracy shenanigans to have this setup, no Senate in this history of ever would consolidate this much power in one place.

It even fails basic contract law. You can't be held to the terms of a contract signed under duress, and you can also escape a one sided contract by arguing that one side had all the bargaining power, basically it has to be an actual negotiation and not blackmail. And even general Bad Faith issues. While the cops are allowed to lie to you during an investigation, lying about the circumstances of a business dealing is a big no no, and the probationary Wards set up is an employment contract, so lying about circumstances to get somebody to agree to join is a legal landmine. So the whole "Trump up charges we can make go away if you sign here" thing would make any lawyer flee as their self preservation instincts kick in, because the conflict in law here means yet another crime 'under color of law' is the add on for any crime committed while acting as a member of a law enforcement agency or other government official. Basically its extra illegal to do illegal things on the job if you work for the government and deal with the public. And that's to say nothing of the liberal use of NDA we see in most fics that also don't fly in the slightest.

An actual lawyer could probably poke even more holes in it, but really its clusterfuck central already.

 

[Crazael]

The PRT has sole jurisdiction over parahuman crime. You're a parahuman who committed a crime, join us and we'll decline to send our case against you to the prosecutors office.

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I think it's, at least usually, more like "You're a parahuman who committed a crime. You can either agree to work for us for a period of time as community service, or you can choose to go to prison for X years."

 

[TypoNinja]

I think it's, at least usually, more like "You're a parahuman who committed a crime. You can either agree to work for us for a period of time as community service, or you can choose to go to prison for X years."

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We've seen both.

Hess seems to have a more traditional probation, while Taylors drafting into the wards generally doesn't see a courtroom or a plea deal entered.

 

[SlickRCBD]

We've seen both.

Hess seems to have a more traditional probation, while Taylors drafting into the wards generally doesn't see a courtroom or a plea deal entered.

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Yes, but Hess' is canon, fics like Implacable are fanon.
Do we have any evidence of people being drafted in canon and being given a choice of "Join the army Protectorate/Wards or go to jail." without going through the courts and a plea bargain?

The whole thing was debated to death in "Implacable"

 

[Spectral Waltz]

The whole thing was debated to death in "Implacable"

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And it was a frankly vicious and idiotic debate there. We don't need to bring it here too.

 

[TypoNinja]

The whole thing was debated to death in "Implacable"

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While I did enjoy the story (And its ungodly legion of bonus content, holy shit), it did have one giant bit of SoD that I just can't get over.

A union negotiator got bum rushed into a signing a contract on short notice without going over it, and without a lawyer?

AHAHAHAHA. No.

This man could be dying of a stroke and he'd still stop and read the terms on his out of network co pay before signing for the life saving surgery.

Even while basically a zombie with grief from his wifes death, he still managed to be the driving force holding his union together and getting work for them in a city with an economy circling the drain.

He will be dead and in the coffin and still be negotiating the terms of his burial plot.

Danny Hebert is the least likely person in the city for that tactic to work on.

 

[Gindjurra]

Nonlethal ammunition.
She is (as far as they know) following strict guidelines and rules on where and when to patrol.
She is experiencing a positive social environment with her peers. (That she refuses to engage with it is irrelevant.)
She is not as liable to accidentally start a gangwar or get herself killed.
She is a shining example of how beneficial it is to join up instead of being a vigilante because she is also highly effective at stopping crimes.

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None of these things are true.

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All of those things are true from the perspective of Emily Piggot, all the other PRT Directors, and the rest of the federal government. They're only obviously untrue to you because you have the nigh-omniscient viewpoint of someone reading a story.

You might as well complain that the police didn't stop a movie bank robbery by reading ahead in the script and being in the lobby ready to rock & roll when the robbers ran in.

Criminal parole terms can be (read, generally are) extremely invasive. While probationary Ward status seems to stand on different legal foundation (since it doesn't seem to be court-imposed at all) there's no reason it couldn't and little reason to think it wouldn't authorize the PRT to climb into every bit of the Ward's personal affairs.

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That would give them access to Sophia's records, which are of the walk-on-water variety. They wouldn't include allegations of wrongdoing that are dropped into a shredder as soon as they are filed. Sophia's parole doesn't give the PRT access to Taylor's records, which is where unfounded allegations would be found (as proof of being a habitual liar) if they were documented at all.

And that's to say nothing of the liberal use of NDA we see in most fics that also don't fly in the slightest.

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This especially. The USA does not and cannot have anything resembling an Official Secrets Act. Any attempt to create one would require repealing our most highly regarded human rights protection laws, or it would fail. The only legal consequence of refusing to sign an NDA is that the government says pretty please on their next request, and maybe throws in some incentives to sign (money, special privileges, etc).

There are no criminal penalties for revealing information covered by an NDA you didn't sign, unless you broke the law somehow in acquiring those secrets - and even then, only if the lawbreaking directly pertained to the secrets. Nobody is going to wind up in jail over an NDA refusal because they jaywalked in order to see the unmasked hero or whatever. Even our Espionage Act - the closest we come to an Official Secrets Act - requires things like breaking & entry to a secure site or deliberately publishing something you've signed an NDA about.

It's also worth noting that one of the main things that makes someone a minor is the inability to sign a binding legal contract. A minor's signature on a contract - including an NDA - might well signal intent to comply with the contract terms, but the contract will be null and void when it comes to enforcing it. Anyone who can sign a contract and be bound by it is, by definition, a full adult!

This man could be dying of a stroke and he'd still stop and read the terms on his out of network co pay before signing for the life saving surgery.

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Danny Hebert is the least likely person in the city for that tactic to work on.

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So much this. The only ways that could happen is if he had been Mastered, or if Victor had stolen his contract law knowledge that morning.

 

[Aineko]

That would give them access to Sophia's records, which are of the walk-on-water variety. They wouldn't include allegations of wrongdoing that are dropped into a shredder as soon as they are filed. Sophia's parole doesn't give the PRT access to Taylor's records, which is where unfounded allegations would be found (as proof of being a habitual liar) if they were documented at all.

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Records aren't the only thing the PRT can look at. They could literally follow Sophia around. They could require detailed testimony about her activities and then check it against witnesses. They could certainly demand monitors on all her electronic communications.

All of those things are both laborious to do and obviously going to create friction with their Ward so they certainly might not. But that isn't the same as could not.

This especially. The USA does not and cannot have anything resembling an Official Secrets Act. Any attempt to create one would require repealing our most highly regarded human rights protection laws, or it would fail. The only legal consequence of refusing to sign an NDA is that the government says pretty please on their next request, and maybe throws in some incentives to sign (money, special privileges, etc).

There are no criminal penalties for revealing information covered by an NDA you didn't sign, unless you broke the law somehow in acquiring those secrets - and even then, only if the lawbreaking directly pertained to the secrets. Nobody is going to wind up in jail over an NDA refusal because they jaywalked in order to see the unmasked hero or whatever. Even our Espionage Act - the closest we come to an Official Secrets Act - requires things like breaking & entry to a secure site or deliberately publishing something you've signed an NDA about.

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I think if you look at the text you'll find it isn't so restrained. But it might be hard to convince a judge that the kind of secrets being protected in Implacable (or are there other notable NDA situations people are referring to?) are matters of national security.

 

[Gindjurra]

I think if you look at the text you'll find it isn't so restrained. But it might be hard to convince a judge that the kind of secrets being protected in Implacable (or are there other notable NDA situations people are referring to?) are matters of national security.

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It doesn't take much to invoke that bit about aiding foreign enemies with the violated NDA - the Yangban exist on Earth Bet.

 

[TypoNinja]

But it might be hard to convince a judge that the kind of secrets being protected in Implacable

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The entire point of Implacable was abuse of power.

NDA's absolutely don't work that way, even in Worm. But since it was the Director herself abusing her authority...

That's why the shenanigans to get third parties involved, as soon as any outside oversight noticed all hell broke loose.

 

[Aineko]

It doesn't take much to invoke that bit about aiding foreign enemies with the violated NDA - the Yangban exist on Earth Bet.

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You can argue anything in court, but it isn't necessarily a good idea. That one doesn't sound like a good idea unless the judge is already in your pocket and just needs you to say something they'll be able to agree with with a straight face.

 

[Gindjurra]

You can argue anything in court, but it isn't necessarily a good idea. That one doesn't sound like a good idea unless the judge is already in your pocket and just needs you to say something they'll be able to agree with with a straight face.

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Well, that's the logic behind why Edward Snowden is a fugitive - he's charged with espionage for violating an NDA by telling US news media about crimes being committed by the government. If it can happen in our world, it can certainly happen in a grimderp version of it, even if it's not supposed to.

 

[Hestia&theCourt]

You can argue anything in court, but it isn't necessarily a good idea. That one doesn't sound like a good idea unless the judge is already in your pocket and just needs you to say something they'll be able to agree with with a straight face.

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Kinda depends on how scared the US populace is of China in Earth-Bet, honestly. Like, in IRL's present political climate, you're right that this would be unlikely to fly, but back in the Cold War days, all it really took was an accusation of being communist to ruin somebody's life, and back in the immediate aftermath of 9/11, people would have and did agree to just about anything to regain their sense of being safe.

 

[Aineko]

Kinda depends on how scared the US populace is of China in Earth-Bet, honestly. Like, in IRL's present political climate, you're right that this would be unlikely to fly, but back in the Cold War days, all it really took was an accusation of being communist to ruin somebody's life, and back in the immediate aftermath of 9/11, people would have and did agree to just about anything to regain their sense of being safe.

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Based on my somewhat distant recollection of Worm, it hardly seems like the Yangban has any significant foothold in the public consciousness. There's too much threatening closer to home for them to make a big impression. Also "the Yangban will steal Shadow Stalker if her identity is exposed" might be a hard sell when in the same city there's New Wave just sitting out there, with one of the world's most valuable parahumans even, not being kidnapped to China.

Well, that's the logic behind why Edward Snowden is a fugitive - he's charged with espionage for violating an NDA by telling US news media about crimes being committed by the government. If it can happen in our world, it can certainly happen in a grimderp version of it, even if it's not supposed to.

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Which is pretty non-analogous since Snowden did sign the NDAs, accordingly received classified national security information, and then explicitly leaked it. (Also technically Snowden has not been convicted on those charges as far as we know, on account of staying well away from the courts where it would be tried.) As opposed to Taylor having sensitive information try to punch her.

Espionage Act prosecutions, as I understand it, have to face weighing against all the ways that the Espionage Act treads on constitutional rights. The more ways the prosecutor can address that the better their chances.

 

[Gindjurra]

Which is pretty non-analogous since Snowden did sign the NDAs, accordingly received classified national security information, and then explicitly leaked it. (Also technically Snowden has not been convicted on those charges as far as we know, on account of staying well away from the courts where it would be tried.)

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It absolutely is analogous. That's why he ran. His only possible defense is the whistleblower law, which is explicitly not allowed to be raised against an espionage charge - much like how the courts won't allow someone to enter a self-defense plea against a first degree murder charge. If he were charged with breaking the law he actually broke - the same law then-Secrerary Clinton's private email server broke, FYI - he'd have a high chance of acquittal.

 

[Aineko]

It absolutely is analogous. That's why he ran. His only possible defense is the whistleblower law, which is explicitly not allowed to be raised against an espionage charge - much like how the courts won't allow someone to enter a self-defense plea against a first degree murder charge. If he were charged with breaking the law he actually broke - the same law then-Secrerary Clinton's private email server broke, FYI - he'd have a high chance of acquittal.

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You say 'it's analogous', but you aren't saying anything about Taylor at all...

 

[Ack]

Wyvern

Part Nineteen: The Dreaded Slaughterhouse Arc (1) – Our Day in Court

[A/N 1: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

[A/N 2: I am not an expert on law courts. Please let me know of any glaring errors.]



Jacob

"Okay, just so you know, we're going to be doing things slightly differently this time."

Jack Slash did like the sound of his own voice; but that was fine, because he was an excellent speaker. He knew it, and so did everyone else. The Nine practically hung on his every word.

"Is this 'cos of the dragon, Mr. Jack?"

That was Bonesaw, his favourite little poppet. Since he'd taken her under his wing, she'd blossomed into quite the murder-munchkin. In another seven or eight years, he predicted, she'd be stealing hearts (as well as livers, kidneys and other sundry vital organs) right across the country.

"It is indeed because of the dragon," he confirmed, beaming at her. "Having done some research into her, I have concluded that she would be an extremely valuable addition to the team. Of course, she's very much into the hero schtick right now, which means she's going to have to be taught that heroes rarely win around us."

"So what does that actually mean?" asked Shatterbird. "Bait her into a fight and just when she thinks she's about to win, I scream and devastate the city anyway?"

Jack restrained the urge to sigh and rub his forehead with finger and thumb. Shatterbird was so fixated on using her power for mass slaughter that she had trouble thinking any other way. And while he had no real problem with creating a large body count, he preferred that it be artistic.

Anyone could murder hundreds, after all. It really wasn't very hard. But to do it in such a way people could see the point in it, even when they didn't want to? That was what he called a win.

"Yes, you will be screaming and devastating the city," he said. "Just not … immediately. We will give them time to wonder, to worry. Is it really the Nine, or perhaps just a hoax? And while they are wondering, we will be taking their newest and brightest, and forging her into a weapon against them."

"And what about the rest of us?" asked Burnscar, forming an image of a flying dragon over her palm. "While you're doing that, do we just stand back and award points for style?"

"Hardly." Jack looked at each member of the group in turn. "We're down to seven members, thanks to Cherish murdering both Hatchet Face and Mannequin for a place in our ranks after we'd already lost Winter. Wyvern is my pick for a new member. Once I've either got her under my thumb or disposed of, you may each approach your chosen recruits. But, and I mean this, only after you've helped me bring Wyvern around."

Cherish pouted, probably because he'd singled her out. "I keep telling you, Hatchet Face was planning to come after me … oh, just forget it. So how are we supposed to help you?"

Wasn't it obvious? He supposed it wasn't. "We'll take hostages to keep her honest. Basically, her friends and family. You will each engage her, and take her down to the point where you could have killed her, maybe even injuring her a little, then I will step in and give her a reprieve. From what I've seen, she regenerates damage between Changes, so you'll be able to tag-team her more or less nonstop. And then you, Cherish, will finish her off—so to speak—by inducing crushing despair, alleviated by me coming to the rescue once more."

"By which time she should basically be eating out of your hand." Shatterbird raised her eyebrows. "And then the Prisoner's Dilemma?"

"Precisely." Jack enjoyed it when they figured out his plans. It showed they were paying attention. "Once it's been established that she can't beat us, and she'll die if she tries …"

"You give her a choice," Crawler said. "Her, or the hostages."

"Of course." Jack grinned. "She'll choose to live, of course. They always do. And with her background? Once she murders the people nearest and dearest to her, she'll be mine, whether she knows it or not. Afterward, poppet, you can ride her dragon-form all you like while she scours the streets free of heroes."

"Yay!" Bonesaw clapped her hands with glee. "I can't wait!"

Jack ruffled her hair fondly. Even if she hadn't said anything, he probably would've taken the Nine to Brockton Bay eventually anyway. A potential recruit like Wyvern was too promising to just let go by the wayside.

<><>​

Taylor

Two Weeks Later

"Emma, your father has boasted about how he can make or break a divorce case on recordings that were taken without the other partner's knowledge. So, don't tell me about breaking the law. Now, as I said, I'm going to the cafeteria. You can follow along if you like, but whatever you say to me will be recorded."

Listening to my recorded voice was always weird. Dad had warned me from the beginning; only those who did that sort of thing for a living were used to it. It didn't seem anyone else in the courtroom had a problem with recognising my voice, though.

"Illegal recording is a felony." Emma's voice came across the speakers loud and clear. "If Taylor's committing a felony, we can perform a citizen's arrest and confiscate it."

The judge raised his hand. "Stop the playback."

Obediently, the sound technician clicked the mouse on his computer, and the Decoy recording ceased.

Turning to look at where Emma, her dad and their lawyer sat—Mr. Barnes had at least been smart enough to hire a lawyer—the judge frowned slightly. "Mr. Barnes, your specialty in law is divorce cases, I believe. Is that so?"

I was pretty sure I knew where this was going, and so did Mr. Barnes. I also figured I was going to enjoy it more than he did. He cleared his throat. "Yes, your honour. It is."

The judge nodded. "In your understanding, when a recording is made in this state, in a place where there is no expectation of privacy, when all parties have been made aware of the situation, is it illegal? Refresh my memory of that aspect of law, if you will."

There was only one applicable answer. "It is legal, your honour."

"Thank you. Now, given that Ms. Hebert was carrying around this monstrosity," the judge picked up the Decoy and showed it to Mr. Barnes, then put it back on his desk, "and was verbally informing everyone within earshot that they were being recorded, was she fulfilling the expectations of the law?"

I could almost swear I heard Mr. Barnes grinding his teeth together. Or perhaps it was Emma, sitting beside him. The one person it would not have been was Madison, who was sitting with her parents away from the other two; she'd withdrawn so far into herself that she was damn hear invisible. Though I was pretty sure it wasn't Sophia either, mainly because she was still confined to a hospital bed with a video link to a screen currently being maintained by a PRT officer wearing a police uniform. He was under orders to ensure she saw and heard everything, but only let her direct queries through the lawyer that Alan Barnes had retained.

For some reason, I'd thought the revelation of Sophia being a Ward would've put her out of reach of ordinary law enforcement. But to my surprise and delight, the decision had been made to try her for her civilian crimes in her civilian identity and for her cape crimes in her cape identity. No matter which way things went, once she got out of the hospital, she was headed for the iron bar hotel.

I didn't want to gloat. Gloating was something Emma and her friends did, so I really didn't want to do it.

But it was very tempting to give in and do it anyway.

"Yes, your honour." The answer may as well have been dragged out of Mr. Barnes, though they would've needed a decently powered winch and a high-tensile cable to do it.

"Hmm. So you would agree with me that Ms. Hebert was not actually committing a felony or any other type of crime by carrying that device, and that your daughter was entirely mistaken in saying she was?"

"Yes, your honour. That is correct." That one sounded like he'd had to cough up a vital organ as part of his admission.

"Thank you. We are in agreement that Ms. Hebert had not committed a crime, despite your daughter's misapprehension in this matter. Continue the playback."

The sound tech clicked his mouse again.

"No, it's—" My recorded voice was cut off by a grunt of pain, followed by a brief scuffle.

"Stop the playback." This time, the judge turned to me. "Ms. Hebert, what happened to cause the sounds we just heard on the tape?"

"Sophia Hess punched me in the stomach, your honour," I said clearly. "And then all three of them wrestled the Decoy away from me. Emma Barnes and Madison Clements held my arms while Sophia pulled on it. Uh, your honour."

I saw Emma open her mouth to make her habitual claim, probably something along the lines of, "She's lying," but her father grabbed her arm and shut her up before she could speak, then turned and whispered to his lawyer, a Mr. Richardson.

"Your honour," Richardson said. "May I make an observation?"

The judge turned to him. "The counsel for the defense may address the court."

Mr. Richardson took a deep breath. "We're listening to an audio file. Those sounds could mean anything."

"Counsel, have you or your clients ever done any boxing?" The judge's voice was calm and measured.

The lawyer blinked, then looked at Mr. Barnes and Mr. Clements. Both of them shook their heads. "Uh, no, your honour."

"Well, I have." The judge squared his shoulders. "In my youth, I went into the ring a few times. I know the sound of someone taking a body blow. Continue playback."

"What's that, Taylor? Can't think of what to say? Oh, well, you're a boring conversationalist anyway." It was Emma's voice again. I remembered the pain as her nails dug into my wrists. Those photos had already been entered into evidence, so I said nothing. There was a thud over the speakers—I'd been pushed against the wall—then Emma spoke. "You deserve to lose this. You deserve to lose everything."

Laughter sounded out of the speakers, along with their footsteps in the echoing corridor. I'd heard this all before—Carol Dallon had played it back for me and Dad—but I was good with listening to it anew.

"Is it just me, or is Hebert just too fucking stupid for words?" That was Sophia. "I mean, what did she think was gonna happen? We were just gonna stand around like stuffed dummies when she waved this stupid fucking tape recorder at us like a magic fucking wand?"

"Yeah, well, first things first," said Emma briskly. "Let's turn it off so we can listen to what it's recorded already, then record over that. My dad always says if there's not a recording of it, it never happened."

Mr. Barnes twitched. It couldn't be a good feeling to be the subject of this much pure irony.

"Sure, okay." Madison also twitched when her voice came on. There was a repeated clicking noise. "Oh, come on. I'm hitting the stop button, but the tape's still rolling."

"Here, give it to me." Sophia's voice was impatient. "You're probably doing it all wrong." More clicking noises ensued. "Oh, what the fuck?"

"Told you." Madison sounded quietly pleased.

"Jesus fuck, Hebert must've bought the shittiest tape recorder in the whole fucking world." From her tone, Sophia was not in the slightest bit happy. "It won't stop, it won't rewind, it won't eject, it won't fast-forward, it won't play, it won't do a fucking thing. Except record."

"That's if it is recording." Madison's voice was vaguely optimistic.

"Always assume there's a recording. Dad says that, too." Emma sounded pessimistic enough for the both of them. "Okay, we've got to figure out a way to stop this thing running and pop it open to get that tape out."

"Bathroom," suggested Madison. "Run water over it. Once the water gets inside, it'll short circuit and stop recording. Then we can lever it open at our leisure."

"Yeah, good idea." Sophia's tone was more upbeat now they had a plan. "Third floor. Nobody goes there."

Well, I had gone there more than once to sit in privacy and eat my lunch, but they didn't have to know that.

They didn't speak for a few moments, then as they were climbing the stairs, Sophia spoke up again. "Hey, Ems, is it just me or does that disgusting little queef Hebert just not know how to take a hint?"

Emma's reply was slower than normal, probably more due to the stair climbing than the question itself. "I'm actually surprised she came back to school at all after the locker thing. So yeah, I guess. What's on your mind?"

Sophia's tone was vicious. "I'm thinking she needs a real lesson in life. Tommy and Joe and a couple of the other guys have been making noises about asking me out. What if I gave 'em a roll of duct tape after school and told 'em whoever brought me the most impressive pictures of Hebert could ask me out?"

"Uh—" began Madison, between panting breaths. It seemed she didn't have much cardio under her belt.

"That's—" Emma said, almost at the same time, then stopped. "Mads, what's on your mind?"

Madison's tone was almost apologetic. "I'm all for putting Hebert in her place, don't think I'm not. But a bunch of guys chasing someone like her down after school, with nobody there to tell 'em not to go too far? Guys, she could get seriously hurt." She stopped talking to catch her breath.

Somebody made a rude noise; it turned out to be Sophia. I could almost hear her rolling her eyes. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Madison. Don't be a whiny little bitch all your life. What happens to Hebert happens because she was too fuck-stupid to get out of the way and go back where she belongs, crawling in the fucking dirt."

"Yeah, yeah, sorry." Now Madison sounded actually apologetic. "Forget I said anything. Fuck her."

"Damn right. Ems, you had something to say?"

"Well, not that, that's for damn sure." Emma chuckled. "No, I just wanted to say to be careful about exactly what you say to these guys. If they get caught—"

"They're track team, Ems," Sophia interrupted. "Even if they get caught, who's gonna say a damn word? Slap on the wrist at worst, and out of detention by the time the next track meet comes around."

"No, this is to protect us," Emma insisted. "I mean, sure, go ahead with it. I'd love to see those photos. But I can help you word it so if they tell anyone else what you said, it doesn't come across as you specifically asking them to chase Taylor down with duct tape. Dad says that's how guys like Al Capone got away with most of their shit. Saying 'It would be great if' rather than 'I want you to go and do this'. Get the idea?"

This time, I didn't miss the poisonous glare Alan Barnes shot at Emma, or the way she wilted under it.

"Yeah, I'll think about it." Sophia didn't sound as though she would. There came the noise of a door being opened. "Here, hide the fuckin' thing. Okay, everyone in here, fuck off. Yeah, you and you too. Get the fuck out."

There were a few voiced protests, but none too loud; nobody, it seemed, wanted to mess with Sophia and Emma. We all listened to the footsteps exiting the echoing bathroom, then there was the distinct sound of a faucet being turned on and water running.

"Okay," said Madison. "Hold it under here." A moment later, the sound of running water overwhelmed everything else.

"Stop the playback," ordered the judge. But instead of unleashing more comments toward Emma or Sophia, he turned to our side of the courtroom. "Mrs. Dallon."

"Yes, your honour?" Carol Dallon was every inch the professional lawyer.

"I was led to understand that the accused had dye on their hands which showed up under ultraviolet light, as did this device itself. Yet they ran water over it. Wouldn't that have washed it off?"

Mrs. Dallon smiled. "No, your honour. I used an oil-based dye. It requires soap, water and a certain amount of scrubbing to remove."

"I see." The judge turned to the sound tech. "Continue playback."

The water continued gurgling in the foreground, while I could hear the buttons clicking again. I got the impression they were trying to make the water get into the mechanism that way. Eventually, they turned the faucet off.

"Fuck!" snapped Sophia. "Jesus fucking Christ on a Tinkertech pogo stick! What does it take to stop this fucking thing recording? Stand back."

BANG

"Whoa, watch where you're swinging that thing!" Emma yelped.

BANG

BANG

BANG

BANG

Each impact echoed through the courtroom. I looked up at the Decoy, sitting on the judge's desk, with new respect. From the sound of it, Sophia had been smashing it into either the wall or the wash-basin bench with all her strength. The heavy plastic was chipped here and there, but that was all.

The bell signalling the commencement of next class was clearly audible over the echoes in the bathroom. There was a pause in the banging, then Sophia swore. "Motherfucker! It's still fuckin' recording!"

"We've got to get to class," Emma reminded her.

"Well, we can't just leave this lying anywhere. Someone might find it and give it back to Hebert." Sophia's tone was scornful.

"Here, scrape the stickers off with this." That was Madison. There was a distinct click.

"Wow, Mads, that's a nice knife. Where'd you get it from?" That was Sophia.

Madison sounded embarrassed. "Picked it up after a gang fight. Kept it."

There was the sound of hurried scraping, then Emma spoke up. "It's not working. It'll take too long to get them all off. We've got to go now."

"Where are we going to put it where nobody'll find it?" asked Madison nervously.

"Don't worry about it," Sophia replied in a confident tone. "I got a place nobody would ever look."

The recording ended, and the sound tech looked up. "That's all I've got."

The judge nodded in acknowledgement. "I believe that is plenty for the moment. I've already viewed the statements from the police department indicating that they found this device stashed in a hole in the wall behind Ms. Hess' locker, and this recording neatly ties a bow on that." He turned to the prosecutor, a Ms. Castle. "Does the counsel for the prosecution have anything else to say about this matter at this time?"

"Two things, your honour." Ms. Castle stood up. She had more self-control than I ever did. Personally, I would've been beaming all over her face at how thoroughly the other girls had sunk themselves by talking in front of the Decoy, but her mien was strictly by the book. "I have no doubt you will have taken note of the repeated indications of depraved indifference to the victim's well-being as expressed in the conversation between the accused girls, as well as their explicit attempts to destroy this very evidence."

The judge's voice was grave and measured in return. "I have indeed taken note of those things, but thank you for doing your duty and pointing them out to me." He then turned his head to address the lawyer Alan Barnes had retained. "Does the counsel for the defense have anything to add to this matter before I adjourn court for the day?"

Mr. Richardson didn't look thrilled at being put on the spot like that, especially after the damning recording he'd been listening to. What went through the minds of lawyers anyway, when they realised their clients were guilty as sin? Did they keep fighting, knowing they were propping up a lie?

"My client has grave doubts about the authenticity of this audio recording," he began. Even I could tell he didn't believe a word he was saying, but I figured it was his job to do his best for Emma and the rest. "It could easily have been pieced together from illegally-garnered recordings over the course of the year—"

Ms. Castle stood up. "Your honour, the counsel for the defence is reaching, and he knows it," she cut in smoothly. "As the affidavit I have already submitted will attest, this sound file has been thoroughly analysed by experts in the field and found to be entirely genuine."

"The counsel for the prosecution will kindly sit down." Without even looking at her, the judge kept his attention on the other lawyer. "Mr. Richardson, I have viewed the affidavit that the counsel for the prosecution has alluded to. It states, among other things, that the sound file could only have been faked with the explicit cooperation of each of the people whose voices appear on it. Kindly do not attempt to denigrate my intelligence in this way. Now, did you have anything else you would like to add?"

"No, your honour. I do not." Mr. Richardson sat down again.

"Very well. We will convene again tomorrow at nine sharp. Court is adjourned." He took up the gavel and banged it once.

Dad and I got up then and headed out of the courtroom. Mrs. Dallon joined us a minute or so later, looking pleased with herself. Dad went to say something, but she shushed him until we were past some people carrying press passes.

"So, when you said we don't talk to reporters," I said in an undertone, "you meant we don't talk to them at all?"

"Only under specific circumstances," she replied, just as quietly. "And we try to cultivate friendly ones, because even the most innocuous story can become a horror-show if the reporter doesn't like you and doesn't care about taking soundbites out of context. If they specifically approach us, let me do the talking, but otherwise we're just a bunch of people walking out of the courthouse."

"Wow." I was learning so much about how court cases went, and I was pretty sure this was just one tenth of what was going on.

"Yes, wow." Carol smiled at me. "But I will say, you comported yourself well in there today. You said what you needed to say, then stopped. Far too many people don't do that."

"Good." Dad heaved a sigh. "Almost over. Is it going as well as I think it is?"

Carol essayed a cautious nod. "It seems to be, but it's never over until the fat lady sings. We'll find out tomorrow. Did you want a lift, Taylor? I understand you're going out on patrol with the children tonight."

I nodded. "Yeah, thanks. It was Vicky's idea."

"Don't be out too late," Dad warned. "We've got to be back here before nine in the morning, remember."

I wrinkled my nose. "As if I could forget. Crystal says we'll throw in the towel at ten."

"That's good enough for me." Dad opened his arms for a hug.

I gave him one, of course. It was weird; we'd started reconnecting as father and daughter only after I got the ability to turn into a fire-breathing wyvern. Life was strange sometimes. "See you tonight."

"See you then, kiddo." He watched as I got into Carol's car and fastened my seatbelt. "Be safe."

"Always." I closed the door and Carol started the car. We pulled out into traffic, and I relaxed into the seat. Unless something went really sideways between now and tomorrow, the judge would bring the hammer down on Emma and Madison, and Sophia would have yet another set of offenses against her name.

End result: they'd never bother me again.

Plus, I was definitely gaining fame (the good type) as a member of New Wave.

Life was definitely looking up.

<><>​

Danny Hebert

Tyres crunched on gravel then whispered on grass as Danny pulled the car off the driveway and in alongside the house. He turned off the engine and sat for a moment with his eyes closed, letting the tensions of the day drain away. It had been a rollercoaster ride from the moment Taylor had shown up at the Dallon household as a dragon—

Wyvern, he corrected himself. She prefers to be called a wyvern.

—but since then life had been more up than down. New Wave was a great team with lots of support, and Taylor herself was doing well as a hero.

With a grunt more for effect than actually required, he climbed out of the car and popped the trunk, then closed the door and locked it. Going to the back of the car, he opened the trunk and took out several shopping bags—court cases came and went, but life was a constant—then slammed the lid shut.

He didn't want to deal with that front step right now, so he walked around to the back, juggling the keys as he went. His thoughts were elsewhere so that he had the key in the lock and was turning it before he realised the lock wasn't engaged and that the door was opening freely.

Shit! Someone's broken in!

Even as that understanding flashed across his brain and he went to pause, there was an irresistible shove from behind him. Stumbling into the kitchen, then across into the living room, he became aware that his favourite chair had been moved to face the door and was sitting directly under the glare of his reading lamp. People were standing around the room in the shadows, but his attention was drawn—deliberately, he knew—to the man seated in his chair, playing with a stiletto.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hebert," said Jack Slash. "Come on in. Sit down." Light reflected off the blade as he spun it in his hand. "Let's talk about your daughter."

<><>​

Jacob

Over the years, Jack Slash had confronted a great many people with the fact of their own mortality (and introduced a majority of these to the concept first-hand, as it were) so he considered himself somewhat of an expert in how people reacted when they first realised they were in life-threatening danger.

Flight was the most common reaction, and some had even succeeded (though far fewer since he'd brought the Siberian into the Nine).

While fight was less common, some still tried it, on the bloody-minded sentiment of 'taking you with me'. Nobody had quite succeeded, though some had come close.

Freeze was another that cropped up more often than he would've thought; unfortunately for those people, he had excellent eyesight.

Once in a blue moon, he got a fawn reaction, which still confused him. He was there for victims, not groupies; when would people learn this?

Flop, on the other hand, was one he kind of understood. When faced with overwhelming danger, their brains just ... checked out. Lights were on, nobody home. They still died, of course, but it was less satisfying.

Danny Hebert wasn't a cape, which cut down the chances of a fight response (not totally; some people had surprised him in the past). He wasn't freezing or flopping, and after one swift glance backward into the merciless eyes of the Siberian it was clear flight was not a viable option. Slowly, Hebert took one more step into the room, put down the shopping bags, and folded his arms. From his attitude, 'fawn' was off the table too.

So what was he doing? What did he hope to gain from this pointless show of defiance?

"What about my daughter?" Hebert asked.

Ah, of course. He thinks he's protecting her.

Jack Slash smiled. "You know, you might've almost had me fooled, there. Union man, right? You don't give away anything you don't have to. The trouble is, in this situation, you've got nothing. No leverage. There's nothing you've got that I want. I already know Taylor is the cape known as Wyvern. She turns into a fire-breathing dragon, and she's joined that pack of idiots that call themselves New Wave."

Hebert might have let out a tiny sigh, but his shoulders didn't slump with the despair Jack knew he had to be feeling. "You're lying. You want something from me, or we wouldn't be talking like this."

"Well, true," Jack conceded. "But I'm not lying, either. What I want from you is the look on your face just before she murders you and joins the Nine, and I'm reasonably certain you're not going to give that to me of your own free will." He gestured, and Bonesaw released one of her little cyber-spiders; it scuttled across the carpet then scrambled up Hebert's pants leg. "Don't try to brush it off," he warned. "Even I don't know what sort of pathogen Bonesaw loads those things with, but they're all very quickly and very painfully lethal."

Hebert held still, which told Jack that the man wanted to live. That, at least, gave him some leverage to work with. It was the ones who'd decided they had nothing left to live for that caused the most trouble.

"Good," Hebert said as the spider settled down at the base of his neck. "Now I know what I'll be shoving up your ass, first chance I get."

Jack sighed, suddenly tiring of the pissing contest. "Spare me the pointless bravado, if you will. I've met a hundred men who promised they'd show me a 'real fight' if it were just me and them. I gave them the chance. They're all dead, and I'm still here."

Hebert shook his head and snorted. "Yeah, right. Like you'd give anyone a fair fight."

The blade in Jack's hand snapped around to point at the taller man. "I'm trying to be polite here, but you're not making it easy. Got anything to back that up?"

"Yeah." Hebert's voice was quiet but firm. "About ten or eleven years ago, I was working in the office at the Dockworkers Association when in walks Marquis, bold as brass. Comes up to the counter and asks to see the man in charge. That would've been old Doug Smythe, at the time. Marquis made the offer to sell protection to the Association, in return for a cut of the profits. Doug turned him down flat. His precise words were, We're not interested. Marquis nodded and walked out. About a month later, Doug was working back late and some guys broke in to look for money. He got shot in the shoulder and ended up in the hospital."

"Serves him right," Jack said. "He should've taken the protection. I presume Marquis was in the next day with an offer at double the cost?"

"Well, no," Danny said. "I never believed Marquis set it up. I'm pretty sure Doug didn't think so either. A month after, Doug was back in the office with his arm in a sling, and Marquis walked in again. Doug looked him in the eye and said, I believe I said we weren't interested. Marquis nodded and walked back out. Two months later, he was captured by the Brockton Bay Brigade."

"A pretty story," Jack sneered. "What's your point?"

"Thing with Marquis was, he didn't screw around. He didn't have to posture or bother with strongarm tactics. Everyone knew if you crossed him, you were toast. But he was dependable. I have no doubt in my mind, if we'd taken his protection, we'd have gotten value for money." Hebert lifted his chin and stared at Jack. "But the word on the street is, you rewrite the rules anytime you feel like it. That's why Marquis kicked you out of Brockton Bay. And even nine versus one, you were scared of going into a fair fight against him. If we paid you for protection, you'd be just as likely to turn around and rob us for the fun of it. And that's how I know your 'fair fights' were anything but."

Jack fumed, but he couldn't actually point at anything Hebert had said that was specifically untrue. Yes, he'd taken the remains of the Nine and left Brockton Bay; not specifically because Marquis wanted him gone, but it had made the decision much easier. And yes, he was a free spirit, unbound by societal norms. The Nine did not bow and scrape to anyone, even if there was money involved. If someone was stupid enough to pay them to do a job, they'd do it, then they'd show those people that the Nine couldn't be bought.

But the way Hebert had described it made him and the Nine sound downright grubby, and that couldn't be right. It was just biased reporting, that was all.

"Bring him," he said, getting up out of the chair. "We've got places to be."

Shatterbird snapped shackles of glass onto Hebert as she moved past him. "Come on, you." Lifted and moved by the solid bands of crystalline material, he had no choice but to follow along. Almost as an afterthought, another one closed over his mouth as a gag.

Jack glanced around the house once more as he reached the back door, then smiled cruelly. "Burnscar, do your thing."

Talk back to me, will he?

As they reached the RV, parked some distance down the street (where Crawler was waiting more than a little impatiently) the flames were already climbing into the evening sky.

<><>​

Shielder

"Halt, evildoers!" Vicky flared her aura and dropped down into the alley like an avenging angel. Two of the muggers left their victim and bolted, while the third one pulled a Saturday Night Special and shakily aimed it at her.

"Back off!" he shouted. "I'll shoot!"

Up on top of the roof to the left, Eric mouthed, Halt, evildoers? to his sister. At the same time, he stealthily put a transparent shield around the mugging victim, who was shakily getting to his feet.

Crystal, standing across the alley from him, shrugged. "Maybe she just likes saying it?"

That was actually a pretty good reason, but Vicky wasn't the one they were there to keep an eye on. Eric turned his head to check on Wyvern, just as she dropped into position at the end of the alleyway. With her wings spread and her mouth open to show all the teeth, she was plenty intimidating. The tiny fireball she spat which exploded about six feet in front of the muggers and set a trash can on fire absolutely sold it, so much so that they backpedalled and fell on their asses.

"Okay," Eric said about two minutes later as they finished securing the muggers for police pickup. "Just saying, we need to start bringing cameras along on patrols like this. Wyvern could have her own Youtube channel. That was amazing."

Wyvern sheepishly looked at the trash can, but Crystal put a hand on her wing. "Hey, something like that's nothing. Eric put it out in ten seconds with a field to cut off its air. Now, if Vicky could stop breaking their hands, that would be great."

"What?" Vicky held her hands out, palm up. "He wouldn't drop the gun or stop shooting at me. Ricochets are a thing. I thought I'd bat it out of his hand. It's not my fault he's got brittle hand bones or something."

"Compared to you, everyone's got … wait." Crystal put her hand to her ear, where her radio earpiece was. "What's that, Mom? A fire? Well, we're kind of good against fires. Where … what did you say?"

"What?" asked Eric. "Where's the fire, and why's it so important they'd call us in? People trapped inside?"

Crystal's eyes focused again, and she looked at Wyvern. "It's … it's your dad's house. Mom said the fire brigade's been called."

Immediately, Wyvern let out a panicked screech and took to the air, wings beating strongly.

"Shit." Eric and Crystal said it at the same time and took off after her.

Before they caught up, however, Vicky arrowed past the both of them. "Wyvern!" she called as she got close to the frantically flying dragon. There was no response, so she got closer and lowered her voice a touch. "Taylor!"

This time Wyvern glanced at her but continued to fly strongly onward. She let out a screech which managed to get her sense of urgency across just fine, despite the lack of words. I have to make sure Dad's okay.

"I'll carry you, like I did the last time," Vicky said, then looked around. "Eric, can you give us an aerodynamic force field?"

"Sure as hell can," Eric said, flying up alongside Vicky. Divining his intention—there were some benefits to having worked with each other for years, the downside being having Crystal as a sister—Crystal flew up on her other side. Concentrating his power, Eric formed a spearhead around them, sharp point forward.

At the same time, Wyvern furled her wings, and Vicky wrapped her arms around the red-and-gold pinions and body. "Hang on," she said grimly, and accelerated hard.



End of Part Nineteen

 

[Ack]

Wyvern

Part Twenty: The Dreaded Slaughterhouse Arc (2) – Farewell, Seven of Nine

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]



Taylor

The trip across town was the fastest I'd ever made it, and it was still far too slow. As soon as we were over my house, Eric dissipated the force field and Vicky let me go. We flew down toward the inferno that had once been my home, while I anxiously scanned the gathered crowd for Dad.

He wasn't there. Even the ambulance crews were just standing around waiting for business while the fire crew directed streams of water into the house.

As the rest of us landed in an unoccupied section of lawn, Vicky took point. She flew over to one of the guys directing matters and touched down in front of him. "Hi, we thought we'd come and help out," she said. "Everyone make it out?"

The fire chief (at least, that's who I thought it was) shook his head. "Nobody got out before we got here, and by then it was too far gone to go in."

No! Dad! I stared at the flames leaping from the windows and took a deep breath. Fire didn't hurt me, and Dad might be in there somewhere, hoping for rescue.

Then Eric whipped past me, force field flaring into life around him. He punched clear through the still-closed front door and vanished. I went to follow him in, but Vicky stepped in front of me and put her arms around my neck. I could feel her strength preventing me from moving forward.

"Easy, easy. They're trained in clearing houses," she said in an undertone meant only for my ears. "Eric will be able to find your dad and get him out." If he's still alive, she meant.

It didn't stop me from desperately wishing I could try to save him anyway. I watched with ever-mounting despair, my clawed feet tearing up the grass and soil that I was standing on.

"Easy," Vicky murmured again. "Easy."

My head came up as I heard a grinding creak that seemed to resonate through my very bones. "It's going!" shouted one of the fire responders.

"Shit, Eric's still in there," muttered Crystal. She began to power up her forcefield. "If it comes down with him inside—"

Two things happened at once. Eric shot out of the roaring furnace in a dramatic shower of sparks, cradling something in his arms. Literally seconds later, the entire structure went down like a house of cards in a stray breeze, only faster. The fire chief shouted orders to turn the hoses on the surrounding houses, to ensure no secondary blazes started, as Eric landed in front of Vicky and me.

I felt a puff of hot air as he dropped his force field. He was sweating like crazy and holding something wrapped in a blanket. Illogically, I felt a wild hope, even though I could see it was far too small to be Dad. Vicky let me go and I let out an enquiring chirp as I nodded toward the bundle.

"Searched the basement and the upstairs bedrooms and bathroom," he said in answer to my unspoken query. "He wasn't anywhere inside, under the beds, in the closets, anywhere. Only thing that wasn't on fire was this." Folding back a corner of the scorched blanket, he showed me the photo album Dad had kept in his bedroom, the one that held all the photos of Mom. "Figured you might want it."

Stepping forward, I wrapped my wings around him in my best approximation of a hug. My chirp this time meant Thank you, but worry still plagued my mind. Where's Dad? What's happened to him?

"You're welcome," he said awkwardly. "We'll, uh, we'll just hold on to this."

"So if her dad isn't in there," said Vicky, "where is he? He should've been home by now."

"I saw what might've been grocery bags on the floor in the living room," Eric offered. "And the back door was swinging open, with keys in the lock. So he got home, then something … happened."

"Yeah, but what?" asked Crystal. "And how did the house catch fire?"

"And if the back door was open, why didn't he get out?" added Vicky.

"Well, he clearly did, but where did he go then?" That was Eric.

Crystal shook her head. "And without his car?" She pointed at Dad's car; some brave soul had smashed the driver's side window and let off the handbrake, and they'd pushed it partway out onto the street to get it away from the burning house. "The keys were right there. Why didn't he take it?"

I shook my head. Nonverbal as I was, I couldn't contribute to the discussion, and worry was clouding my mind too much for me to think ahead and make coherent conclusions. There were too many questions, with no answers forthcoming. Worse, I had a weird buzz in my ears that made it hard to concentrate.

That was when something tapped me on the ankle.

Twisting my neck around, I looked down. There was a shifting, liquid pool of glass on the ground next to my clawed foot, and as I watched, it extended a pseudopod and tapped me again. This wasn't the weirdest thing I'd ever seen, but it was definitely up there. Lowering my head to peer at it more closely, I let out an enquiring chirp.

As if triggered by the sound, the glass started forming words.

WE HAVE YOUR FATHER. TELL NOBODY.

It paused then, awaiting my reply.

I looked up and around, then over at the others. They were busily discussing the matter of my father's disappearance among themselves. Looking back toward the blob of glass, I nodded and chirped again, trying to keep control of the rising tide of anger within me. Whoever 'we' are, you're going to regret this.

It seemed the glass controller could see my movements and maybe hear my voice but could not register my emotions. The blob changed again, showing more words. And now that I was paying attention, the buzz changed tone very slightly.

COME TO CAPTAINS HILL ALONE OR YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY DIE.

Well, that was absolutely clear-cut and impossible to mistake for anything other than a threat. My anger mounted until the flame danced in the back of my throat. It was a distinct effort to hold back from deluging fire over the glass letters on the ground.

Lifting my head, I looked around again. As I did so, I concentrated on the almost subliminal buzzing. I could almost feel it shifting in frequency as my head turned one way then the other.

I had to do this. I had to go. Dad and whoever else they had were depending on me.

But that didn't mean I had to play into this asshole's hostage fantasy.

Correction: this dead asshole.

I was sick and tired of people thinking they could get leverage over me by threatening my father.

This ends tonight.

<><>​

Glory Girl

The first thing Vicky knew of something else going wrong was when Wyvern detonated one of her explosive fireballs on the ground directly under herself, launching her into the air in what seemed like a deliberate move. Fortunately, nobody had been close enough to take harm from the explosion, though the grass had been scorched to ash in a wide circle. That wasn't her biggest concern, though.

The biggest concern was that Taylor was flying away at a high rate of knots, leaving the rest of them behind.

"Where's she going?" shouted Crystal, as they scrambled into the air to catch up with her.

"I dunno," Vicky replied, forging ahead. "Soon as I grab her, I'll be sure to ask."

"Just be careful," Eric supplied, gamely trying to keep up. "She looks pissed."

"Pfft, what's she gonna do?" asked Vicky. "She knows she can't hurt me."

Half a second later, a fireball exploded in her face.

The heat and kinetic force didn't so much as muss her hair, but the blinding flash surprised the fuck out of her, dazzling her and sending her tumbling through the air. "What the shit?" she blurted, trying to rub the dancing spots out of her eyes. When she could see again, Wyvern was no longer in view. "Oh, that's just not fair."

As she hovered there in mid-air, Crystal and Eric caught up with her. "She let off half a dozen in a row," Crystal explained. She pointed out where clouds of smoke, underlit by the city glow, were wafting away under a gentle breeze. "While we were eyes-off, she must have either dived for surface clutter or gone for altitude. And unless she gets between us and the moon, we're never gonna see her either way."

"Okay, just what the fuck is going on here?" Vicky flung her arms out. "Why'd she even do this? We're her friends! Her teammates! Why would she fly off the handle like this?"

"Uh … maybe she just wanted to be left alone?" Eric shrugged. "I mean, right now she's gotta be under some serious stress."

"Yeah, but where's she gonna go?" Crystal raked her hands through her hair. "Vicky, what'd she do the last time she was this upset?"

"Uh …" Vicky tried to think. "Told Armsmaster to fuck off and then went and hid in our garage?"

Crystal nodded firmly. "Okay, you go check there. Eric and me will go back to her house and make sure nobody got hurt."

"Okay, right." Vicky grimaced and tapped the phone in its pouch on her belt. "Let me know if anything turns up."

"Sure thing, and same to you. Come on, Eric." Crystal turned in midair and started back toward the fading glow in the sky that signalled the demise of the Hebert house.

Vicky looked around to get her bearings then started off toward home, almost certain she was missing a trick but not sure what it was.

Taylor, what's going on?

<><>​

Jacob

Waiting atop the pretentiously named Captain's Hill, Jack Slash smiled in smug satisfaction as Shatterbird flew into view and landed alongside him. "She took the bait?" He already knew the answer, but he liked it when other people admitted how smart he was.

"Hook, line and sinker," she confirmed. "The New Wave kids tried to catch up with her, but she used those explosive fireballs like flashbangs and evaded them cleanly. For a rookie, it was actually pretty impressive."

"Good, so there's no chance she worked out some scheme with them before coming?" Again, he was certain he knew the answer, but it was always satisfying when a plan came together.

"Well, she's nonverbal, and she didn't even get their attention before she took off, so I'd say that's a solid no." She tilted her head. "Pretty sure that's her now."

"Excellent." For some reason, he felt the urge to steeple his fingers and leer over them, but it passed. "Let the event commence. Burnscar, if you will?"

<><>​

Taylor

There were definitely people on top of Captain's Hill, clustered around the statue of Captain Lord, but my improved night-sight (I refused to call it 'dragonsight') couldn't distinguish between them, until a row of torches burst into flame one after the other. Then I saw what was going on.

Dad was there, kneeling on the rough gravel, with Kurt and Lacey next to him. Beside Lacey was Alan Barnes, and then Emma. Kurt's face was bruised, like he'd been roughed up a little, and Emma's features were blotchy, like she'd been crying. Lacey just looked pissed. I could just barely see something crouching on their necks, long mechanical legs clutching their shoulders and extending down their arms and over their heads.

"Good evening, Wyvern," announced an altogether too-familiar figure as he stepped out of the shadows and into the torchlight. I'd known he was there, but not who he was. Now I knew that, too. "Or should I say, Taylor Hebert. Oh, yes. I know who you are. I know a great deal about you." Jack Slash smiled predatorially, his too-white teeth gleaming in counterpoint to the blade that flickered through his fingers in the firelight.

I came to a hover, my rage almost boiling over. How dare this little man threaten my father and his friends, all because he had a bunch of supervillains to hide behind! Just barely, I managed to force myself to voice an enquiring chirp.

"Ah, yes. Non-verbal." He hmphed and lifted his chin. "I do so like it when they beg for all to hear. Oh well, no bother. I will translate. What do you want from me, I believe you asked. Well, it's simple. You, in the Nine. I believe you will make an absolutely marvellous part of the group."

Still hovering, I shook my head and voiced a defiant squawk. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.

Jack Slash raised his eyebrows, sounding quite amused. "Language, language. If my Bonesaw could understand that, she would be quite miffed with you. No, you see, it's quite simple. You see before you five hostages. I will be—"

That was it. I couldn't take it any longer. My anger burst forth, and I let out a roaring torrent of flame at him. Threaten my dad, will you!

A shield of glass interposed itself between myself and the gang leader, splashing the flame harmlessly in all directions. I switched up, flying forward with an explosive fireball leading the way, aiming to smash through the shield and get to Jack Slash before anyone else could interfere. With him in my jaws, I'd have the Nine at my mercy, and I could get them to release Dad and the others.

It wasn't the most intricate of plans, or the most well thought out, but I wasn't exactly thinking straight right at that moment.

So, of course, nothing could go wrong.

<><>​

Emma Barnes

The latest member of New Wave had made the news weeks before, so Emma knew all about it. She'd admired the dragon (or wyvern, as New Wave insisted on calling it) for its power and strength, and giggled over the footage showing it cursing out Armsmaster. But now it was facing the Nine, all alone, almost incandescent in its frustrated rage … and that was Taylor.

Emma didn't know whether to be more scared of the Nine right then, or of her one-time friend. They would kill her if Taylor acted up … but Taylor might kill her afterwards anyway. She didn't often admit to making mistakes—that sort of thing happened to other people—but right now, she was beginning to consider the idea that shoving Taylor into the locker and then continuing to tease her afterward might have been a possible error in judgement.

As Jack Slash continued with his smug monologue, Taylor—no, Wyvern—lost her temper and shot flame at him. Emma tensed, expecting to see him immolated, but Shatterbird sent a sheet of glass up to protect him. When her first attack didn't work, she flew forward with another burst of flame; it hit the glass sheet and exploded, but that was just a decoy. Demonstrating some of the agility she'd shown on the news, Wyvern twisted and flew up and over the disintegrating shield.

Which promptly reformed and locked around her body and wings. Emma winced as she felt the impact Wyvern's dragon body made when it hit the rocky ground, down the slope a little way. Jack Slash tried to say something, but Wyvern's outraged screech drowned him out. Shedding shards of glass and at least twice as large as before, Wyvern came flapping up out of the darkness, eyes blazing and teeth bared in fury.

There was a rumble of heavy footsteps, then Crawler launched himself out of the darkness, smashing into Wyvern's body like a battering ram. They hit the rocky slope again, tumbling over and over in the darkness. Emma could hear Wyvern screeching and Crawler roaring in several tones at once.

The last rock slid to a halt. Silence fell. Emma waited for Wyvern to emerge from the darkness once more, like a phoenix triumphant. But instead, heavy plodding footsteps came up the side of the hill, until Wyvern's battered body was tossed unceremoniously into the pool of firelight.

She was a little larger than before, but her glorious red and gold scales had been badly seared by acid, which had also burned large holes in her wing membranes. She was still alive, still conscious, still trying to move and attack despite a missing eye, a broken jaw and several other clearly broken bones, some of which were protruding through her skin.

A delicately built girl with long dark hair bearing a single red streak stepped forward. "Come on," she said softly. "Go to sleep, little dragon. Go to sleep."

Although Wyvern clearly didn't want to, her one good eye drifted shut. She shrank, the scales fading away and her hair returning, until Taylor Hebert lay face down on the gravel of the parking lot. And then her eyes (both of them) snapped open, she looked around, and just like that, Wyvern was back, fully healed and the smaller size again. One second a scrawny girl, the next a red and gold scaled dragon. If Emma had blinked, she would've missed it.

Crawler shifted his position, putting one foot in the middle of Wyvern's back and the other on her muzzle, almost certainly to prevent her from breathing fire. Then, and only then, did Jack Slash step forward again.

"Well, that was both impressive and educational," the bearded man mused, strolling up to where Crawler held Wyvern pinned to the ground. "Let's try that again, shall we? Cage that beast a little, girl, or you will lose someone you care for."

<><>​

Taylor

I stared up at Jack Slash, wishing I could do more than growl past the heavy foot holding my mouth closed. If I were free … but I wasn't. And so, I couldn't afford to let the wyvern take full control like that again. I blinked at him twice, then twice again, trying to convey 'yes'.

Not that I intended to cooperate with him in the slightest. But I had to play this to my strengths, not his.

"Good," he said smoothly. "Now, shall we continue? As I was saying, we have five hostages here, two of whom you'd probably rather see dead. This is how it's going to go. Shatterbird, Crawler, Burnscar and Cherish have all expressed an interest in turning you into a quivering wreck. Bonesaw holds the lives of your hostages in her hand, and Siberian is here to ensure that you don't turn yours truly into a charcoal briquette. Are you understanding the situation so far?"

I gave him another series of blinks.

"Good. So, we'll go round by round. For each round, you either dispose of one of our hostages or my charming friends beat you to a pulp and I take something from you. Perhaps a finger, perhaps an eye. But I've decided to be nice and give you a couple of freebies for the first two rounds. It'll be no hardship at all for you to finally put these two out of your misery, will it?"

His gesture encompassed Alan and Emma Barnes, and I had to admire the evil genius of the man. Just for a moment, I was indeed tempted to murder them and blame it on Jack Slash. He knew me, knew what I wanted.

But he didn't own me, and never would. I was better than him. I was better than them. And more importantly, I knew something he didn't. But I didn't dare even think about it, because he'd shown an uncanny level of understanding of my thought processes so far, and I didn't wish to lose out to a scumbag like him at this point in the game.

I shook my head as best I could, and swung my eyes toward where I could see Shatterbird at the edge of the torchlight. To make my point, I sent a thin stream of flame out of my nostril toward her.

"Well, then." Jack clapped his hands together cheerfully. "If you want to do this the hard way, we can do it the hard way." He stepped back toward where the Siberian waited with Bonesaw. As she laid her hand on him, his colouration went from normal to black and white. He was protected, I knew.

Crawler took his feet off me and stepped back, allowing me to get to my feet and shake out my wings. I had one chance to get this right, or people would die. Rather; the wrong people would die. So from here on in, I could not lose.

Shatterbird took to the air, shards of glass orbiting her, while her wings spread wide, firelight twinkling off them. She had her weapons with her, ready to use on me. I'd seen how fast she was, how effective. I knew I could be beaten by her, and that was my advantage.

She didn't know she could be beaten by me, so she didn't know how to plan against it.

With a screech of defiance, I took off straight up, my wings undoubtedly sending a billow of dust everywhere. But I wasn't concentrating on that. I was reaching into the depths of my being to where the wyvern resided, and pushing it hard to respond to the perceived threat. At my normal size, I couldn't beat Shatterbird; she could immobilise my wings and bring me down at any time.

I breathed deeply, inhaling the chilly night air, feeling my ribcage expand … and expand … and expand. By the time Shatterbird realised something was wrong, I was halfway to her and more than twice my normal size. And then, just as her glass started toward me, I backwinged and pulled the same trick I had on Vicky that one time. A little bit of flame and a huge volume of smoke erupted from my nostrils, engulfing her altogether.

Coughing, she tried to fly out of the plume of smoke and evade me, but the buzzing in my ears led me straight to her. Her eyes widened and she threw up a glass shield against my flame. I didn't care. My head was the size of a small car by then, and when I closed my jaws around her the glass crunched like candy. She didn't crunch so much as squish.

Then I breathed fire, through my half-closed mouth. She didn't even have time to scream.

Spitting out the charred body and the bits of glass, I wheeled tightly on one wingtip and dived. One down, still winning.

A feeling of lethargy invaded my thoughts, as it had done before. The little tiny bit of me that just didn't want to fight was blown out of all proportion, almost forcing me to Change again. I felt myself reducing in size, and tried to push back, but Cherish's power was too strong for me to fight against.

So I didn't. I surrendered to her, and gave the wyvern full control over our shared body. Before, it had been an instinctive action; now, it was a winning strategy. As I watched, uncaring and wanting to just let the world go away, the wyvern spat out a single actinic stream of cutting flame. It had served to slice Inago's wing clear off his body. Here, it removed Cherish's head from her body, by way of vaporising it. As the headless corpse collapsed, the suppression of my natural anger vanished, and I surged back into the driver's seat. Thanks, I'll take it from here.

<><>​

Jacob

With Shatterbird down, and Cherish removed from the field mere seconds later, Jack stared up at the descending dragon. All his instincts were shouting that she wouldn't be stopped by mere threats this time. "Burnscar!"

"On it!" Hand flaring with flame, Burnscar stepped out in front of the hostages. Jack watched her call the torch flames to her, swirling them in a complex pattern. "Hey, Wyvern!" she shouted. "Back off!"

Wyvern kept coming, mouth opening and teeth showing. Jack began to wonder if she was even capable of comprehending human speech anymore. Burnscar took the initiative, directing the flames down at Danny Hebert's left hand. In an instant, it was seared to the bone. He screamed, loud and long.

With a great gust of wind that would've put out the torches if Burnscar's power had not kept them alight, Wyvern backwinged to a halt in mid-air. "DAD!" she bellowed, in a deep and gravelly voice. "LEAVE HIM ALONE, YOU BITCH!"

"Language!" chided Bonesaw. "Mr. Jack, tell her not to swear!"

Burnscar cupped Hebert's head in her hands. He couldn't do anything about this, as he was still locked into the glass shackles Shatterbird had formed onto him. "Come down here and Change back, or I boil his brain in his skull!"

Still the dragon hovered there, great wings thrashing the air, anguish clear even on its inhuman muzzle. "Three!" shouted Burnscar. "Two!"

Wyvern shimmered, changing not so much size as shape. When her form stabilised, she was longer, leaner, and her colouration had changed utterly. Where before she'd been covered in red and gold scales, now she was ice-blue with black highlights. "One," she purred in a thunderous hissing whisper that was totally unlike her previous fifty-packs-a-day rasp, and inhaled.

Every flame went out, all pouring across the gap to where Wyvern hovered and disappearing into her flared nostrils. The temperature in the air dropped precipitously, frost forming on every surface. Her mouth opened, and she seemed to cough; ice shards shot out in a spray.

Burnscar yelped with terror and leaped away from Danny Hebert, forming a burst of flame with one hand and shooting another high into the air. She dived into the one before her and vanished. Far above, another one was formed, the fleeing form of Burnscar jumping from one to the other.

Wyvern turned her head fractionally, tracking, then spat out a burst of something that would've been flame, except that it was blue and sucked heat out of the air as it rocketed upward. There was another flare of fire above, and another … and then the blue bolt hit. The fire ceased to be.

Jack stared at Wyvern. I did not see that coming. "Poppet, since when can she breathe cold?"

"Uh, Mr. Jack," ventured Bonesaw. "I think I know what's happening, and it's a bad thing."

We've just lost three of our members. No shit it's a bad thing. "Yes?"

"Her, uh, power? Each time she's under stress when she's using her powers, it … uh, it puts her through a mini-Trigger. And I think she gets to keep all the previous iterations."

Jack blinked. "Powers don't work like that. Do powers work like that?"

Bonesaw shrugged. "Hers does?"

There was a crash and a shattering sound as Burnscar landed, her frozen corpse smashing like a Ming vase on a concrete floor. Wyvern turned her burning blue gaze on him. "I am going to—"

"Woo hoo!" Crawler bolted out of the darkness again and launched himself at her. "Round two, beeyatch! Come to papa!"

Jack breathed out again as they disappeared into the darkness. "Okay, once he breaks her down to size, I'm just going to have him kill her," he decided. "She's unmanageable. Too many variables." He waved his hand at where the hostages were. "Go ahead, kill the hostages. We don't need them anymore."

"Uh … Mr. Jack …"

He was beginning to detest that tone in her. "What?"

"The spiders I had on them are all dead. She killed them."

"What? When?" She hadn't even gotten close to the hostages.

"I don't know, Mr. Jack." Bonesaw sounded worried, and he didn't blame her. "Want me to send another spider to kill them now?"

"Yes. Do that." No matter what else, Wyvern would not win.

There was a scuttling sound in the darkness. Bonesaw cleared her throat. "Uh … the hostages … they're not there?"

"What?"

<><>​

Danny Hebert

"Come on, while they're distracted." Danny's left hand felt like one huge lump of ice, but it was better than the alternative.

He'd already wrenched off the cyber-spider that had been attached to the back of his neck, after it went limp. The cause of its demise was obvious; a high-velocity shard of ice had punched through its outer carapace, killing it instantly. Another had struck the glass bonds that were holding him prisoner, shattering them.

Each of the other hostages had been freed in a similar fashion, which made him wonder exactly how accurate Taylor was with those things. Also, where had that form even come from?

Escape now, power analysis later. "Come on," he whispered again as they sneaked down the road.

"You okay, man?" Kurt's voice rumbled quietly in the darkness.

"Better than Burnscar."

"Ain't that the truth."

And then the light flared in front of them.

<><>​

Taylor

Fighting Crawler was no picnic at the best of times. The first go-around, I'd already had my ass kicked by Shatterbird, and I was on the back foot. This time, I knew what I was facing. I found I could neutralise his acid with my cold-breath, and in fact I could break chunks off him by freezing them first.

But that tactic worked less and less, and soon he was using my cold-breath against me. Not that it did much, but it got annoying. Worse, he was beginning to overpower me, now that I couldn't simply destroy parts of his body. We hit an outcrop and smashed it, but it knocked the wind out of my body. He loomed over me, drooling yet more acid. This stuff was resistant to being frozen, and actually stung quite a bit.

I rolled over, managing to throw him off. Too late, I saw a small van in an out of the way parking spot, halfway up the hill. For a moment, I thought it might be abandoned, but then I spotted a face watching us through the windshield. "Watch out!" I bellowed. But it was too late. Crawler landed square on it, crushing it flat. God damn it, I groaned. I'd face the music for that later.

Crawler smashed me across the face with one of his front legs, and my head hit another rock. The world blurred; when it came back, I was looking down at him. My night sight (okay, fine, dragonvision) was much better now, and I saw my colouration had gone back to red and gold. "Come on!" he roared, launching himself at me, despite being somewhat smaller than me.

Opening my jaws wide—he was about the same size as my head—I caught him up in my mouth and bit down, hard. My teeth sheared into his flesh, and he let out an insane cackle. "Yeah! Yeah!"

He was already changing, adapting, to what I was doing to him. I felt myself shifting and changing in response; going with the wyvern's instincts, I tilted my head back and opened my gullet wide. He scrabbled briefly as he went down my throat, then I swallowed. It was painful at first, but then my body shimmered again and it wasn't.

But even that wasn't the end of it.

Crawler fought back, trying his best to tear his way out of me in a bizarre parody of that movie about the aliens. My stomach moved and bulged oddly, and I had the horrible feeling that I wouldn't be able to Change back until I had this sorted. The wyvern heard me, and I Changed again. This time, Crawler was weaker. It took two more Changes before he was totally quiescent. Whatever passed for stomach acids in this version of me had finally dealt with the unkillable cape.

Unfurling my wings—and by now they were huge—I flew up and landed at the top of Captain's Hill again. Jack and Bonesaw were just boarding the RV they'd come here in. I stomped on the front end of the vehicle, crushing it flat. "Going somewhere?"

Yeah, I was that big.

Jack Slash stared up at me. "What are you?" he demanded. "What did you do with Crawler?"

I didn't have an answer for the first question, but I definitely had one for the second one. Opening my jaws, I let out a deep, rolling thunderous belch that echoed across Brockton Bay. "He was delicious." It was a lie, but it was a badass lie.

"Rude," complained Bonesaw. "Gross."

"Okay, just going to say, you can't touch me or my little poppet, because Siberian will fillet you if you try." Jack hooked his thumb over his shoulder as he spoke. Except that … both he and the girl should have been currently coloured in shades of gray. They weren't.

I breathed in through my nostrils, taking up their scents, wondering exactly where the Siberian was. Jack's scent was … interesting. He'd been cocky and confident earlier. Now … he was terrified, but putting up a good front. The Siberian must've decided to cut her losses and leave him hanging out to dry.

"Who?" I grinned, each of my teeth longer than he was tall.

"I'm full of pathogens," Bonesaw said defiantly. "Kill me and they'll spread far and wide. You'll kill America."

"Funny thing, that," I mused. "It took a lot to kill Crawler. I'm pretty sure that right now, my internals negate matter on a subatomic level. I wonder how that would go against your pathogens. Made of matter, aren't they?"

"Wait, wait," Jack said, holding his hands up. "Don't I get any last words?"

"No." I was sick of his face, sick of his voice and sick of his smug condescension. It took just one breath to disintegrate the back half of the RV, Bonesaw and her pathogens and Jack Slash himself. Also, about fifty cubic yards of parking lot in a shallow crater. I was going to have to work on my precision.

And then light sprang into existence beside me. I looked over and down, to see Lady Photon hovering in mid-air, holding her hand up like a floodlight. "Taylor?" she asked. I wasn't totally surprised at how doubtful she sounded. My head was now twice the size of a city bus.

"Yeah. I think so. I see you found my message." When I'd used the explosive fireball to launch myself skyward, it had also ashed all the grass and dirt directly under it … except the bits covered by the glass, forming words. When they finally got around to examining the scene, they would've found a signpost telling them exactly where I'd gone; also, why.

"Yes, we did. Sorry it took us so long. Did you just … finish the Nine?"

"They started it. What about Dad and the others?"

"We've got them. Amelia is healing your father's hand as we speak. How … how did you get so big?"

"Lots of Crawler in my diet, I guess."

She choked out a laugh. "Uh, how do you feel about that?"

"There was quite a bit of heartburn involved, but I got over it." I looked down at myself. "Pretty sure I can't fit in the garage anymore."

This time, her laughter was more genuine. "What about the Siberian? How did you deal with her?"

I shrugged, not unlike the movement of tectonic plates. "No idea. I suspect when she saw them losing, she dumped the team and ran."

"Right." She flew around in front of me and held up what I recognised as the extravagantly fluffy bathrobe that Vicky had more or less gifted me with after the Armsmaster incident. "Well, when you feel like downsizing, I'll be right here for you."

"Thanks." I silently consulted the wyvern. It felt kind of tired. "I figure it won't be long before I'm human again. Anyway, I've got court in the morning."

She nodded. "Think the Barneses might want to change their plea after this?"

I chuckled; already, I could feel the size Change coming on. "Maybe."

Personally, I was ready for bed. It had been a long, long night.



End of Part Twenty

 

[Iceflame55]

Ok, I have to say it. I suspect there's going to be ALOT of Capes taking a good HARD look at Taylor and going, "Ok, I get the message. The correct response when dealing with Taylor will be to be very, VERY polite, and remember that she DON'T need ketchup to spice her meals up. You piss her off enough she decides it's dinnertime, good luck getting anyone to do more than hand you a Darwin's Award before leaving stage left at a very fast walk....

 

[Ack]

Ok, I have to say it. I suspect there's going to be ALOT of Capes taking a good HARD look at Taylor and going, "Ok, I get the message. The correct response when dealing with Taylor will be to be very, VERY polite, and remember that she DON'T need ketchup to spice her meals up. You piss her off enough she decides it's dinnertime, good luck getting anyone to do more than hand you a Darwin's Award before leaving stage left at a very fast walk....

Click to shrink...

Let's just say, when she let out that belch, Battery elbowed Assault on the Protectorate HQ, and told him to quit it.

 

[VirtualFox]

Eidolon: "I can take…"

Rest of the Triumvirate: "Noooooooo!!!!"

 

[Commedia]

Was it a bit contrived, especially Manton's death? Maybe.
Do I care? Nope.
Was it satisfying? Oh.... Yes.

Well at least Taylor has the silver lining of a nice fat paycheck from the government bounty division for her troubles with the psychopath brigade. I also assume they're going to want to pay out quickly, because one does not get between a Dragon and her Horde. That and i imagine they are realize how finger-food sized they are.

Spoiler: That, And she probably looks like this right now

I can only imagine the news bits. "Slaughterhouse 9 kidnaps family and friends of local hero for Nefarious purposes! Local Hero turns into a frickin' Dragon and eats them. The PRT has declined to offer an official statement at this time, but vociferously denies they are hiding in fear under their desks. "

 

[LostArchivist]

Well done, and the ignominy of Manton's squishing was delightful. It's nice when a S9 arc ends quickly, since it is the exact opposite of what Jack would have wanted.

Although her being able to change into multiple forms is a bit of an ass-pull, I think I like the end result. Ice breath is quite cool, if you pardon the pun.

 

[Ack]

Was it a bit contrived, especially Manton's death? Maybe.
Do I care? Nope.
Was it satisfying? Oh.... Yes.

Well at least Taylor has the silver lining of a nice fat paycheck from the government bounty division for her troubles with the psychopath brigade. I also assume they're going to want to pay out quickly, because one does not get between a Dragon and her Horde. That and i imagine they are realize how finger-food sized they are.

Spoiler: That, And she probably looks like this right now

I can only imagine the news bits. "Slaughterhouse 9 kidnaps family and friends of local hero for Nefarious purposes! Local Hero turns into a frickin' Dragon and eats them. The PRT has declined to offer an official statement at this time, but vociferously denies they are hiding in fear under their desks. "

Click to shrink...

She does look basically like that, yes.

Also, Manton shouldn't have hung around too close to a cape battle.

Well done, and the ignominy of Manton's squishing was delightful. It's nice when a S9 arc ends quickly, since it is the exact opposite of what Jack would have wanted.

Although her being able to change into multiple forms is a bit of an ass-pull, I think I like the end result. Ice breath is quite cool, if you pardon the pun.

Click to shrink...

Same shape, different capabilities. I've been hinting at it for some time.

 

[VirtualFox]

She's always 'evolved' to counter the threat in front of her, this time she had seven threats to face in short order