A Darker Path [Worm Fanfic]

A Darker Path

Part Eighty-Three: Lesson Learned

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



San Diego Wards Base

Gully

The portal reopened fourteen minutes and fifty-five seconds after Scapegoat had vanished into it. Gully knew this, because she'd been watching the clock. By mutual unspoken agreement, she and Spire were avoiding the corner where it had been, while speculating about where Atropos and Ashley Stillons had taken him to.

Spire had looked up the name on the PRT database, and to their mutual surprise had gotten a hit; the file photos of Damsel of Distress showed someone who was skinnier and somewhat more unkempt, but the white hair was unmistakeable. Skimming Atropos' PHO entries had brought up Damsel's attempted entry to Brockton Bay and rebuff by Atropos, which only raised more questions. After that, they'd tried to play a little pool, but their inability to concentrate made it a ridiculous parody of the game; half the time, Gully missed the cue ball altogether. Nobody came even close to sinking a ball.

When the portal opened, Gully and Spire abandoned the game and paid full attention to the shadowy doorway. First through was Atropos, followed closely by Damsel of Distress. Scapegoat came last, stumbling as though he wasn't quite sure where he was.

"Hi there!" announced Atropos brightly. "One Scapegoat, in perfect working order, returned as promised. Ashley and I are going to hang around for a few minutes until you're sure he's okay, then we'll be moving along." She glanced at Ashley then gestured toward the table. "How about a game while we're waiting?"

"Sure." Ashley raised an eyebrow as she looked at the table. "I've never played, though. You're gonna have to show me how it goes."

"Well, the idea is to use the white ball to sink all the coloured balls," Atropos explained succinctly, then looked at Spire. "Borrow your cue? Thanks." She accepted it as he handed it to her.

"Triangle's over there." Gully pointed helpfully to where it was hanging on the wall.

"Appreciate it, but we won't be needing one." Leaning over the table, Atropos briefly lined up on three different balls in quick succession, sending each of them bouncing off their fellows in a staccato series of crisp clicks.

With what she'd already seen of Atropos' exploits, Gully fully expected every ball to be sunk within seconds, but that wasn't what happened. Instead, like Brownian motion run in reverse, the coloured balls coalesced into a triangular formation at one end of the table, bunching around the eight-ball. At the far end, the cue-ball rolled sedately to a halt precisely on the spot at the centre of the break line.

Gully stared; the balls couldn't have been better placed with the use of the triangle and a micrometer. She'd thought she was aware of Atropos' level of pure bullshit, but this just set the bar even higher. From the way Spire's jaw dropped, he was of much the same mind.

"Okay, that was impressive, but what now?" asked Ashley.

"Now I show you how to play. Gully, loan her your cue? Thanks." Atropos strolled around to the end of the table where the cue-ball awaited. "Now, unlike what I just did, you're only supposed to hit the cue-ball with your cue …"

Spire dragged his attention away from the table and approached Scapegoat. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah." Scapegoat nodded, a little jerkily. "Better than okay. I'm fantastic. I'm amazing."

Gully frowned. This was more upbeat than she'd seen him … basically, ever. "Where did you go? What did you do?"

For an answer, Scapegoat held out his phone. On the screen was a photo of … "Wait a minute," Spire said. "You went to England? To London?"

Gully leaned in to look at the image. Despite the misty rain that gave the lights little rainbow haloes, it was impossible to mistake the photo, and the ones that followed, for anything but what they were. "Damn. What did you even do there?"

Scapegoat drew a deep breath. "Did you know it's possible to pull someone out of the Birdcage? Because I saw Atropos pull someone out of the Birdcage."

"You are going to have to give us more detail than that," Spire insisted. "Who got pulled out? How did she do it? What happened?"

Bit by bit, the story unfolded, as Atropos coached Damsel of Distress in how to play pool behind them. By the end of it, Gully was considerably more informed regarding the events that had taken place over the last fifteen minutes, but was still very much in the dark concerning the how and the why of it all. A tiny yip of triumph heralded Damsel's first success in sinking a ball, but neither Gully nor Spire bothered to look around.

"So, did she say anything else about why she's doing all this?" asked Spire, once Scapegoat had run dry. "Why she needed your power and Damsel's power to be improved?"

Scapegoat hesitated. "I think she wanted Ms Stillons to be on top of her game, mentally and power-wise. I'm just a fortunate side-effect in the grand scheme of things, and Teacher's a casualty. All that crap out of Ms Stillons' head and mine had to go somewhere, and who better than the guy who's screwed with so many other people's lives?" He shrugged. "I know it's not exactly heroic, but who says no to Atropos?"

"And Teacher fixed it so you don't have to take things on yourself anymore?" Gully found this to be particularly interesting. Scapegoat's power seemed to be designed to mess with the kid, but the worst aspects of it had just been … taken away. "You just … pass it along?"

"Easy as handing someone a pencil," Scapegoat confirmed. "Doesn't even touch me. It's like this is the way my power was supposed to be, but it got screwed up on delivery, y'know?"

Gully rolled her eyes. "Trust me, I hear you on that."


PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Atropos

From: Dragon

Subject: Teacher is now psychotic

What the hell did you do to him? Up until now, I've had to expend twice as many resources than I have to on anyone else just to keep an eye on what he was up to, but now he's done a total one-eighty. Literal supervillain rants that expose all his plans, and he's already been beaten up twice in the last hour for trying to force his 'teachings' on capes who weren't interested. His life expectancy is dropping by the minute.


PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Dragon

From: Atropos

Subject: Re: Teacher is now psychotic

We are talking about the same Teacher, yeah? The one who's a total waste of oxygen and food by any reasonable metric?

I'm just wondering why you're so concerned with his welfare.


PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Atropos

From: Dragon

Subject: Re: Re: Teacher is now psychotic

You said you wouldn't hurt him if he cooperated.


PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Dragon

From: Atropos

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Teacher is now psychotic

I said I wouldn't kill him, and I didn't. He didn't pull anything stupid, so I didn't need to teach him about kneecap privileges. As for the rest of it, I made no other promises.

He's already got one warning and if he ever sets foot outside the Birdcage, I'll be dropping a second one on him, just on general principles. Long story short, my care factor about his physical *or* mental well-being is going further into the negatives by the second.


PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Atropos

From: Dragon

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Teacher is now psychotic

Okay, so he was always going to be screwed up mentally by this. Got it.
*sigh*
Just out of morbid curiosity, could you please tell me what you did to him?
Please tell me you didn't just straight-up End his sanity?
… can you actually do that?


PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Dragon

From: Atropos

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Teacher is now psychotic

… kinda. I got him to give them a power upgrade. As part of it, he hit them with a mental effect, essentially making them addicted to his power (you know, like Saint was). So, I told Scapegoat to give it straight back, along with all their various issues (Ashley had more than a few). Short-term result: Scapegoat and Ashley now have improved powersets, and are as mentally healthy as it's possible to be, while Teacher's still an asshole villain, only more so (besides, he started it). Long-term result: one step closer to saving the world.


PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Atropos

From: Dragon

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Teacher is now psychotic

Okay, thank you for the clarification. I still can't help feeling that there's something supremely unethical about all this.


PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Dragon

From: Atropos

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Teacher is now psychotic

Pretty sure I left ethics behind when I took up shooting supervillains in the face. These days, I'm extremely results-oriented. And I'm totally fine with these results.


PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Atropos

From: Dragon

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Teacher is now psychotic

There's absolutely nothing in that statement that I can point to as being incorrect.
PS: *wow*. You couldn't have fucked him up harder if you tried. He just got beaten up again.
Even knowing what he's done, and despising everything that he stands for, I still can't help feeling just a little sorry for him.
Actually, one question. When he uses his power on someone, is the mental influence an automatic thing, or can he choose not to apply it?


PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Dragon

From: Atropos

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Teacher is now psychotic

He can choose the level. He always chooses 'totally indebted to me'.

He's screwed with many heads and ruined many lives.

I wouldn't have done this to him just for karma, but I've got no problem with inflicting it as a side effect.

Plus, he was plotting against me, so fuck him.

Toodles!


Damsel

Ashley stepped out of the portal into the familiar surroundings of her apartment. Oddly enough, it still felt different to when she'd left, even though everything was still where it had been less than half an hour ago. The difference, she realised without much in the way of difficulty, was all in her own head.

"What did Scapegoat do?" she asked, walking over to the window and looking out. The city looked fresh and clean and hopeful, full of promise and optimism. For the first time, she felt as though she belonged, rather than needing to make an effort just to fit in. "I feel like I've been walking on air since we got back from England. That game of pool helped me get used to it, but right now I feel really weird and I don't know why."

Atropos moved up to stand beside her. She wasn't being threatening or pushy or aggressive, she was just … there. And Ashley found that she was fine with that. There was no longer a sense of impending doom if she put even one foot wrong. "Weird good or weird bad?"

"Um." Ashley had to stop and think about that. Her entire life was weird these days, so categorising new experiences wasn't as easy as it had once been. Once upon a time, it had been mainly divided between 'sucky' and 'less sucky' but now she had a whole new category called 'holy shit is this my life now' which was getting bigger all the time. "Good, I think? I feel like I should be going over it with a fine-tooth comb to find the catch, but at the same time I'm pretty sure there is no catch. I mean, there's a lot of stuff that I used to dwell on a ton, that's just … not there anymore. Or it's there, but it's not as important to me as it used to be. Does that even make sense?"

"It does." Atropos turned to look at her. "Cards on the table. All that stuff you've been going to therapy over, and getting medication for, it's been starting to show through again. Like with the stunt you pulled with Genesis. Arrogance, aggression, the driving need to prove you're better than everyone else no matter what, that sort of thing. Basically, the monkey in your head that kept bashing the rage button every time things didn't go the way you wanted, back before we got to know each other. With me so far?"

Ashley did her best to raise an eyebrow. "I wouldn't go as far as calling it a 'monkey bashing a rage button', but …" She paused, recalling a couple of incidents where things had gotten way out of hand. "Okay, yeah, maybe I would. Of course, once you got my hands fixed, things were less likely to go wrong, and I knew you'd come down on me if I acted out anyway, so that kept me under control. But now, I feel like even that's not necessary. There's no part of me that I've got to keep an eye on. What did you do?" An epiphany burst on her. "Holy shit! It's part of what Scapegoat did, isn't it?"

"It is." Atropos nodded once. "Basically, he found the potential version of you somewhere in the hypothetical multiverse who had no mental problems, made a template of that, and swapped it out for everything that was going on with you."

"Everything? Like, everything that ever made me hurt anyone?" Ashley found her armchair and dropped into it, mainly because her legs didn't feel like holding her up any longer. "All that's just … gone? What did he do with it? Is the poor bitch that he got the good template from now as fucked up as I was?"

"Well, no. She doesn't actually exist. Like I said, she's a potential version. It's a powers thing. No, he passed it all on to Teacher." Atropos actually sounded amused at that.

"Who's now back in the Birdcage and is as fucked in the head as I used to be." Ashley shook her head in disbelief. "Wow, I know he's a colossal dick and all, but that's seriously harsh."

"Well, it had to go somewhere," Atropos pointed out reasonably. "The whole point of this exercise was to get it out of your head. Scapegoat can't just discard it. It would be supremely unfair to load him down with every single dysfunction he takes away from people. You absolutely don't want me to have it."

Ashley startled herself with a laugh. "No, fuck that idea with a rusty shovel. Bad idea all around." Then she nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, yeah. Teacher was the only other option, and he has kind of earned it. But are you going to keep an eye on him?"

Confirming her suspicion that Atropos already knew the answer to the question, the black-clad killer chuckled. "Dragon's been blowing up my phone about that. Apparently, he's gone full ham megalomaniac. He's literally doing supervillain monologues about his plans, and he's already been beaten up three times. Couldn't happen to a nicer asshole."

"So, he's going to die in there." Ashley could easily recall how she'd been pushed by her issues to either do something villainous or rant about how she was going to do something. "You knew that when you started this whole thing. You basically sentenced him to death."

"No." Atropos' tone was less playful now. "He earned his death sentence a long time ago. Up until now he's been skating on the consequences of his actions, because his capabilities are useful in the Birdcage. I just made him more annoying than he is useful. But in all honesty, I don't care about what happens to him, just that he never gets in my way. I needed certain things to get done, and they got done. Over and above that? Zero fucks given."

"So, what am I?" Ashley wasn't quite sure where this was coming from. She was damn sure she normally wouldn't have challenged Atropos like this, no matter what reason she had for doing it. "Your wind-up toy? Your chess piece? You needed me to be sane and powerful, to do what you need me to do?"

"No, Ending just needs you powerful." Atropos must have caught the flicker of confusion on Ashley's face. "That's what my power's called. I talk to him occasionally, and we hash out how we're going to do stuff. He's literally all about Ending anything and everything. Now, I don't really care about the sanctity of human life as an abstract concept, but there are some people I do care about, and I will End anyone who makes a move to hurt them. Outside of those people, yeah, there are some who are potentially useful to us. I figure it's easier to arrange a better quality of life for you guys so that when the time comes to call on you, you're more likely to say yes without needing any coercion. It took a while to explain the concept of 'willing cooperation' to Ending, just saying."

Ashley stared at her. This was the most Atropos had explained to her about what was going on behind the scenes … ever. It also explained so very much. "'Ending'? That's what your power's called? What about mine? Does it have a name?"

"Yeah. 'Demesnes-Keeper'." Atropos shrugged. "Don't look at me, I didn't name 'em. Those aren't really the names anyway. They're basically a whole encyclopaedia's worth of nuance and meaning, condensed down to a single word or phrase. Anyway, you're getting more out of this than a cool job, a nice place to live, and a chill outlook on life. When was the last time you were actually concerned about someone else's well-being, like you were with Teacher?"

"… huh." Ashley blinked. "I didn't even realise. When did that happen?"

"When Scapegoat took all that crap out of your head." Atropos tapped the side of her own head. "He gave you free rein to experience empathy again. Which you're gonna need tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Ashley frowned. "Why am I going to need it tomorrow?"


The Next Day

Danny

All was quiet on the worksite; the assembled ranks of the people working for the Betterment Committee were silently watching two people. Rumours had spread thick and fast about the confrontation between Ash and Gary the day before, from the believable (Gary had fired Ash) to the also-believable (Ash had threatened his life).

Danny hoped that this public spectacle would quell all the rumours. There were times to keep such things behind closed doors, and times to blow the doors clean off. Taylor had told him that this was one of the latter.

Standing beside the work vehicle, in which Danny had fetched her from her apartment building, Ms Stillons glanced at Danny. He gave her a brief nod of encouragement. Turning, she approached Gary where he stood before the assembled workers.

He watched her approach; Danny could see the stiffness in his back and the muscle pulsing in his jaw. Oddly enough, this was missing in Ms Stillons. Yesterday, she'd been dead set against accepting any level of culpability for what had nearly happened. Today … was yet to be seen.

She stopped a couple of yards from Gary, then paused for a moment before opening her mouth. Danny couldn't blame her for thinking her words over; what she said next would go a long way toward deciding the eventual outcome.

Finally, she spoke. "I'm sorry."

Danny blinked; either she'd picked up some serious acting chops overnight, or she was being totally sincere. He wasn't quite sure which of the two explanations was more believable.

While she was a reasonably intelligent young woman, it took more than brains to put heart and soul into a role like that. Moreover, the Ashley Stillons he'd seen on the job site even yesterday would've chosen to carve her own spleen out with a rusty spork before deliberately admitting fault in such an unreserved fashion.

Taylor had said the problem would be fixed by Friday morning, but she hadn't said how. Now it was actually happening, and he still couldn't see how the trick was being pulled off.

Ms Stillons stood tall and straight as she offered the apology. Not a hint of sarcasm or deception came across in her words. "You were right to be angry, yesterday. I thought I knew what I was doing, but I ignored every safety precaution in the book. People could've been hurt, or worse. I understand that, and I won't do it again."

Gary didn't reject her words, but he did frown as he looked at her. "Okay, I hear what you're saying and I'm taking it into account, but how do we know it won't happen again if you get another wild hair up your butt about how slow we're doing things?"

"That's fair," she allowed. "I'd be worried about me, too. But what you didn't know is that Atropos came to my place last night and we had a long talk about being responsible on the worksite, along with other subjects."

A visible stir went through the assembled workers at that; the accompanying murmur might well have been something like oh, shit.

Everyone there knew of Atropos, by definition. She was literally the reason the Committee even existed, and why there was so much money going into everything. The word 'respect' entirely failed to encompass the amount of regard in which the workers—unpowered, capes, and Eagletons alike—held her, by several levels of magnitude.

But nobody wanted her to knock on their door for a chat about how they'd been irresponsible on the worksite. That was very much on no bucket list ever. The fact that Ms Stillons had experienced such a visit (he doubted anyone even considered that she might be lying about it, because ha ha ha fuck that) and was showing up for work anyway bespoke a level of intestinal fortitude accorded to few.

"Well … uh … okay." It was Gary's turn to blink as he absorbed the new information. "You're going to need to re-sit the tests on safety regulations, but once you pass that, you'll be back on the worksite." He drew a deep breath. "Also, I'm sorry I yelled at you and called you a moron. That was unprofessional of me." He held out his hand. "All good?"

"All good." Ms Stillons shook his hand. "Thanks for giving me another chance."

"It wasn't really my call," Gary admitted, glancing at Danny. "But after talking to you, I understand his decision."

"Good to hear." Danny clapped his hands once and raised his voice. "Okay, you layabouts. Show's over. Time to get back to earning your exorbitant salaries. Gary, I'll expect your written report on the entire incident, including the resolution, on my desk by day's end."

As the workers began to disperse, he opened the door of his work vehicle. He still had no idea how Taylor had pulled it off. And whether he'd understand the explanation, if she gave him one.

But if it fixed the problem, he decided, he could live without the explanation.



End of Part Eighty-Three

A Darker Path

Part Eighty-Four: Double Date

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


On the Boardwalk, Friday Evening

Glory Girl

Vicky suspected she was enjoying the situation far more than she really should be, but she didn't care. Wearing jeans and a stylish blouse (because it was totally possible to be a knockout even when dressing casual), she leaned her butt up against the railing, while watching Amy work herself into a nervous wreck for no good reason. This was, she decided, the perfect revenge for all the snark Amy had aimed at her over the years for her own romantic mishaps.

"Where is she?" Amy fretted, trying not to pace back and forth, and failing. "She's decided not to come, hasn't she? She's called it all off."

"Ames." Vicky spoke in her best 'you're being a doofus' voice, the one she usually aimed at Eric when he was being his brattiest. "What's the time? Check your phone."

Amy fumbled the phone out of her pocket and looked at it. "It says ten minutes to seven. Why?"

"What time did she say she'd meet you here?"

"Um … seven?"

"So, she's still got ten minutes to get here." Now Vicky was emulating the professor in the Parahuman Powers class she attended at the College: calm, dry, no-nonsense. "To be honest, I'm still not sure why you had me bring you here so early."

"So we wouldn't be late, duh!" Amy spread her hands. "Anything could've happened!"

"Why, yes." Vicky knew she was being sarcastic, but she rarely got to do that these days, especially with all the villains either dead, reformed and helping rebuild the city, or long since decamped. (Or, in one very special case, funding the rebuilding effort, but nobody called Atropos a villain anymore. Not out loud, anyway.) "The four other fliers in this city could have had a massive mid-air pileup, thus preventing us from getting here on time." She wasn't counting Kid Win in that number, because anyone who built tech to fly was cheating.

"Yeah, but …" Amy clearly wanted to keep arguing, but she was distracted by an approaching teenage girl. Tall, fit, and Asian, the newcomer was looking from Vicky to Amy and back again with a hopeful expression on her face.

"Hi," Vicky said, straightening up. "Can we help you?"

"Oh, uh, yes." The girl glanced at Amy again, then focused on Vicky. "You're Glory Girl and Panacea, right? Vicky and Amy Dallon?"

Vicky nodded. "Sure, that's us. But we don't do autographs when we're out of costume." She gestured at her own jeans and blouse, and Amy's dress. "Sorry, but if you check our website we generally put upcoming public appearances on there."

"Oh! Oh, no, no, I'm not here for that." She looked at Amy. "I'm here for the date. Emily said we were meeting up here at seven?"

"What?" Vicky did a double blink of surprise. "You're Parian?" Only at the last minute did she remember to lower her voice so she didn't out the girl in front of everyone. There were no golden curls to be seen, but the ceramic mask could've easily had an attached wig. "Damn, you're good. I never would've made you."

"No, she's not Parian." Amy spoke just a little ahead of the girl, then stopped herself and made a hand gesture for her to go ahead. "Sorry, after you."

"She's right, I'm not." The girl chuckled a little nervously, then lowered her voice and glanced around. "I'm Flechette, but you can call me Lily."

"Huh, I thought you looked familiar," Amy said, a grin breaking out across her face. "The Damsel caper last week, remember?"

"God, how could I forget?" Lily rolled her eyes expressively. "That was … I mean, I've done stuff for Atropos before, but that was intense. I was seriously impressed by how well you and Miss Medic were holding up."

"Ah, yeah, that's not as surprising as it might be." Amy shrugged modestly. "We've both worked with her before as well. I've, uh, helped rehabilitate a few capes with wonky powers, and Miss Medic did some other stuff for her. I actually met Mrs Yamada through Atropos, too. She's really nice."

"Yeah, I got that impression." Lily nodded thoughtfully, before noticing Vicky's expression. "What?"

"The hell is this?" Vicky was more amused than upset, but she put on a good show anyway. "I'm supposed to be the wild and crazy part of this team. How the heck do you get to go on adventures with her?"

Amy smirked. "You're just salty because she baited you into attacking her, then clowned on you until I agreed to owe her a favour. She needed access to our powers more than she needed yours. Simple as that."

Lily's eyes lit with combined curiosity and amusement. "I've never heard this bit before. Deets, I need them."

"No, no, you don't." Vicky shook her head adamantly. "I did something really stupid, that could've gotten me killed. If I never hear about it again, I'll be happy." Casting about for a way to change the subject, she brightened. "Hey, did I ever tell you about how I met Damsel? She'd just joined the Betterment Committee, and we saved a guy's life together."

"Only about a dozen times," Amy reminded her dryly. "And the bit of concrete she blew away gets bigger every time you tell the story."

"Well, I haven't heard this one either." Lily's interest was obvious. "What bit of concrete?"

Vicky cleared her throat, loftily choosing to ignore Amy's snark. "So, I was at school—Arcadia, if you know it—and I got a phone call from Atropos." She paused, looking past Lily as two more girls approached them, looking at her and Amy curiously. "Sorry, can we help you?"

"Ah, yes," said the petite Middle Eastern woman, who was maybe nineteen or twenty. Her companion was taller but looked to be around Vicky's age, and had curly brown hair and even more freckles than Amy got when she'd been out in the sun. "Panacea … Amy … right?"

Amy's eyes opened wide. "Sabah? That's you? Wow! You look amazing! I never would've guessed!"

The young woman smiled shyly. "Yes, it's me. You look nice, too."

Vicky's brain struggled to catch up, as though it were a car on the freeway that had been suddenly knocked into neutral. "Wait … you're, uh, Sabah?" Just in time, she managed to avoid blurting out Parian's cape name. "Wow, that costume really hides a lot, doesn't it?" Amy gave her a Look, and she belatedly realised how insensitive she'd just sounded. "Uh, I don't mean that in a bad way. Your, uh, wig really threw me off, is all."

Sabah loftily ignored the fact that both her companion and Lily were trying to avoid laughing out loud. "Don't feel bad. That's exactly what it's designed to do. I want people to think that of me, at least in costume, until I'm truly successful as a rogue. Once that happens, I intend to unmask and challenge everyone's preconceptions."

"That, ah, might have been a tricky proposition if the Empire Eighty-Eight had still been in town, just saying," the Asian girl observed. "Hi, I'm Lily. I was at the fundraiser, chasing Atropos around the stage with Mouse Protector." She looked past Sabah as the latter moved toward Amy. "So, you're Emily? I like your freckles."

"Thanks." Emily came over to stand in front of Lily. "Well, you know I was in the dragon costume, so I didn't see much of the show first-hand. It's comfortable, but it doesn't give me a huge amount of peripheral vision." She looked at Lily, and tilted her head slightly. "Somehow, I thought you'd be taller. Do you wear lifts in costume?"

"Heh. No. My boots have thick soles, but mainly it's the posture lessons from Image. Nobody likes them, but they have a way of sticking in the mind. Head up, back straight, be assertive without being aggressive." Lily rolled her eyes again. "They should maybe tone it down a bit if they want to get away from the 'child soldiers' rep that Youth Guard keeps trying to nail the Wards with."

"Not just the Wards." The conversation had finally gotten around to a point where Vicky felt comfortable with jumping in again. "They've taken a few runs at New Wave ever since us kids got powers and started going out with the adults. Never quite stepping over the line by making up false reports, but the reports they handed in definitely had a bias to them. I remember one time, Crystal and Eric had to stand down from hero stuff until their grades came up to an acceptable level or something. They were pissed."

"Uh, this might be an unpopular opinion," Sabah ventured, "but isn't getting good grades a worthwhile idea in general? I know it's a strain sometimes to keep mine up, and I'm just a rogue. I can't imagine how it would be as a hero. And sooner or later, those grades are going to matter."

"She's actually serious," Emily informed the others. "Now that we're all situated properly and starting to make money, she's got me and Bastet and Salvage doing online educational courses. Oracle's already going to school, so she's got her own thing."

"Oracle, that's the one who looks like she wants to be Atropos when she grows up, right?" asked Lily. "I personally wouldn't want to mess with her when she's older."

Emily shook her head. "Messing with her is a bad idea all around. We've all got her back, especially since she helped a couple of us get good jobs. And yes, she can see trouble coming."

"Well, enough talking about people who aren't even here," Amy decided, linking her arm through Sabah's, to the latter's pleased surprise. "How about we talk about ourselves? Let's start with what sort of place we want to go and eat at."

"And on that note, it's time I bowed out and left you guys to it." Vicky lofted into the air. "Have a good date, Ames. Call me if you need a lift."

"Will do." Amy waved with her free hand, then returned her attention to Sabah.

Vicky smiled to herself as she flew away. The temptation was there to hover (figuratively if not literally) and make sure Amy was okay, given that this was her sister's first voluntary date ever. However, she also knew it was the wrong thing to do on several levels.

Amy was out with no fewer than three other people, all of whom were capes that Vicky knew by reputation if not personally. From what she'd seen, this was their first time meeting without masks to get in the way. But it looked like it had started off well all the same (a lot better than some of Vicky's dates, to be sure) and she'd given her sister all the advice she could think of for the situation. It was now up to Amy to make the most of the evening.

Well, I'm not going on a date myself any time soon, thanks to Dean being a dick. But it doesn't mean I can't be sociable anyway.


Ashley

Nibbling on a hot pocket she'd just heated up in the microwave for a snack, Ashley reclined in her armchair (possibly the first piece of furniture she'd ever owned from new, and of which she was inordinately proud) and clicked the remote to wake up the TV. She'd stolen bigger ones from warehouses, but this one was hers.

The first channel she happened onto (there were a lot of them, and she was still exploring) had a comedy show playing. She'd never really gotten her head around comedians; it wasn't that she didn't have a sense of humour, but they were just so boring. Life was way too serious to spend time laughing at stupid jokes, anyway.

But it was Friday night, and she had a little time before she needed to check on the oven (the cookbook she'd picked up was liberally bookmarked, and she was trying out pork cutlets) so she figured she might as well see what this one was like. So, she put the remote down and settled back to watch the show.

Twenty minutes later, when the oven alarm went off, she staggered out of the chair, weeping with laughter. She had no idea why the guy's routine was so funny when everything else she'd ever tried to watch had fallen flatter than a stomped-on lead pancake, but it was. The only thing she could think of was how Scapegoat had taken all that shit out of her head, and Atropos had told her she was now capable of empathy.

Holy shit, has all this been going over my head because I just couldn't see the funny side of anything? It was a stunning thought, not least because she was able to recognise the thought as being stunning. Exactly how fucked in the head was I, before?

There was no good way to answer that question. Fortunately for her peace of mind, she was distracted by the phone ringing as she headed for the kitchen. Scooping it up, she was unsurprised to see Mr Hebert's name on the caller ID.

Something's up on the worksite, and they need to call me in. Mentally, she sighed regretfully for her pork cutlets, but that could be dealt with. "Hey, Mr Hebert. What's up? I can be ready to go in three minutes."

"Actually, it's not a job site issue," he said reassuringly. "I just got a call from Glory Girl, asking if you're okay with her knowing your address."

Ashley blinked a couple of times. "Did she say why?"

"She didn't give me a definitive answer. Something about dropping by for a social visit. I personally didn't get a problematic vibe out of it. But it's your privacy, so I'm checking with you first."

"Huh." It was true that they'd worked together a couple of times, but that had been mainly her cutting off chunks of concrete for Glory Girl to ferry away. They hadn't exchanged ten words the whole time they were on the worksite together. Ashley had kept her distance, physically and verbally, but now Glory Girl wanted to reach out in some way? On the other hand, she trusted Mr Hebert's judgement. "I guess, sure."

"Thank you, I'll pass that on. Have a good night."

"Night, boss." She ended the call and dropped the phone on the counter beside the stove so she could check on the cutlets. They were simmering nicely but they looked like they needed to go for a little longer, so she set the alarm again. Then she headed back toward her armchair, thinking deeply about the phone call. I wonder what she wants with me?

A moment later, the intercom pinged, signalling that someone was at the front doors of the building. Grumping about people who had no sense of timing, she headed to the door and pressed the button to answer. "Who is it?"

The small screen on the intercom lit up, showing Glory Girl's face. "Hi, it's me. Can I come in?"

Wary instincts kicked in almost immediately. "Why?"

A plastic shopping bag holding something rectangular and bulky was lifted into view. "Housewarming present?"

"Um …" That made even less sense. While she was vaguely aware what a housewarming gift was, she'd never gotten one before. "Okay, come on in." She hit the button to unlock the doors.

The knock on the door came an impressively short time later. Heading back over to the door, she didn't bother setting the chain when she unlocked it. The chain—impressively sturdy as it was—was better suited for people who couldn't zorch a hole clear through potential home invaders with their fingertips.

Opening the door, she looked Glory Girl up and down. The teen hero was dressed in clothing that was nice but not overly fancy. "Can I help you?" Ashley asked, for want of a better question.

Glory Girl looked more than a little self-conscious, which paradoxically helped steady Ashley down. "Um, yeah, I was out and about with a few hours to kill, and we've worked together a couple of times for the Committee, so I figured that kind of made us colleagues, you know?"

"I guess." Ashley relaxed a little more, then focused on the bag she'd seen before. "Did you really bring me a housewarming gift?"

"Um, yeah." Glory Girl shrugged awkwardly. "I heard you'd just moved into a new place, so I thought I'd get you something, but I wasn't sure what. Mr Hebert knew your address, so I got this from a Seven-Eleven, and brought it over." She handed over the bag; taking it, Ashley saw that it contained a six-pack of glass bottles. "It's cider, non-alcoholic. Do you, um, do you drink cider?"

"I wouldn't know," Ashley confessed. "I've never tried it." She looked at the contents of the bag, then at Glory Girl. "Did you just … is this really ... I'm sorry, I've never been in this position before. I have no idea how to respond."

Glory Girl half-shrugged and grinned. "Well, people usually say thank you, but you don't have to if it makes you feel—oof!"

Since getting her powers, Ashley had never hugged anyone just to hug them. She had a good reason for holding off, because doing so up until very recently would have threatened to destroy whoever or whatever she was hugging. The only two people she'd had any real connection to following her upgrade were Atropos and Mr Hebert; she didn't feel as though Atropos was into spontaneous displays of affection, and hugging Mr Hebert out of the blue would be just plain inappropriate. But right now, Glory Girl had earned Ashley's first post-improvement hug.

"Wow, okay." Glory Girl's arms snuck around Ashley's waist and gave her a squeeze in return. "That's definitely a thank-you I'll take."

"Huh, yeah." Ashley let her go and shook her head. "I don't normally do that, like, ever. But you brought me a gift after I basically ignored you at work. It's really nice, and I appreciate it. I just … it's not what I'm used to." She looked up and down the corridor. Nobody was leaning out their doors to watch them, but the impression of being under scrutiny was still there. "Umm … did you want to come in?" Stepping back, she pulled the door open.

"That'd be great!" Glory Girl smiled broadly as she stepped in through the doorway. "Ooh, this place is nice."

"Pfft, yeah, right." Ashley didn't want to sound snarky to a guest, but this was something she felt she had to address as she shut the door. "You're Glory Girl. You're part of a famous cape team, and your mom's a lawyer. I bet your bedroom's bigger than this whole apartment."

"It really isn't. And it'd be nice if you could call me Vicky, when we're out of costume and off duty and stuff." Glory Girl—no, Vicky—gestured around at the apartment. "When I move out of home, this is the sort of place I want to live in. Where it doesn't feel like Mom's going to be leaning over my shoulder at any minute."

"You're moving out of home?" Ashley frowned. "Why? You're already part of a team. Your house is basically your home base. Why would you ever want to give that up?"

Vicky pulled out one of the chairs from around the small table, and sat down. "Can I tell you something, just between you and me?"

"Uh …" Ashley could count the number of times a hero had shared a secret with her. It was somewhere between zero and one, and the first guess didn't count. "Sure, I guess." Opening the bag, she put the six-pack of cider on the table then pulled out another chair and sat down. "Shoot."

Vicky took a deep breath. "Well, Panacea and I are talking about leaving New Wave altogether." She gestured at the window, and presumably at the city beyond. "You've seen what Brockton Bay is like, these days. There's no call for big teams here anymore. We're down to yelling at jaywalkers. The supervillains who had low enough self-preservation instincts that they actually came here after she cleared the rest out either died or got sent packing." She paused and cleared her throat, looking embarrassed. "Ah, sorry. Didn't mean to bring up painful memories."

Ashley surprised herself by chuckling and shaking her head. "Not painful, unless you count embarrassment as pain. I honestly can't believe how moronic I was, thinking I could take Atropos on. She could've killed me outright, and I wouldn't have stood a chance. And then she got your sister and some others to fix my hands, so my blasts didn't go off any old time, and invited me right back." She rolled her eyes. "And then, as an encore, she pulled the bullshittiest bullshit I've ever seen, and fixed all the problems that were rolling around inside my head. So basically, when she booted me out of Brockton Bay, that was her putting me on a shelf until she could deal with my problems for me."

Vicky tilted her head thoughtfully, then grinned. "I bet I can beat you with an embarrassing bullshit Atropos story, with a side dish of me being an absolute moron."

"Oh, you're on." Ashley tore the cardboard off the six-pack. "Want one? You said they were non-alcoholic, right?" She'd had booze before, but she wasn't really in favour of it. There'd been enough demons running around inside her head already.

"I did, and thanks." Vicky accepted the bottle and twisted the cap off. "Okay, so I'd never met Atropos before, but I'd been making noise on PHO every time she murdered someone, asking why someone didn't just fucking arrest her and get it over with."

Ashley opened her own bottle and took a drink. It was dry and tart, but not bad. "I'm guessing this was early days, then. Before everyone decided that she was way too fucking scary to cross."

"Pretty early, yeah. Just before she went through the Nine like a combine harvester on crack." Vicky drank from her bottle, then shuddered. "Eugh. Wow. It certainly has character, doesn't it?" Belying her words, she took another drink. "So, there I was with Ames, feeding the ducks in the park. What I didn't know was that Atropos was meeting her number-one fan for selfies at the other end of that very same park, and that she had a quarter in her pocket."

As the story unrolled, Ashley found herself laughing just as hard as she had with the comedian on TV. It was refreshing to find out that she wasn't the only one who'd been casually slapped down by Atropos, as part of another plan the black-clad killer had running in the background. The cider was nice, too, as was the company.

"So, I'm pretty sure she even set Ames up with her date tonight, somehow," Vicky concluded. "Because making my sister happy is apparently one of her hidden objectives, I guess? I dunno. But anyway, I dropped Ames off, and that's when I thought of coming over and giving you a housewarming present. I hope you liked it."

"I did. I do." There were still two bottles of the cider left, but Ashley would definitely be buying more. She took a deep breath before she spoke the next words. "So, I've made pork cutlets. I can't promise they'll be all that great, but would you like to stay for dinner instead?"

"Are you kidding? I was wondering what that amazing smell was." Vicky wasn't quite drooling, but the suggestion was there. "Are you sure?"

Ashley smiled, an expression that was coming more and more easily to her, these days. "Positive."


End of Part Eighty-Four

A Darker Path

Part Eighty-Five: Adapting to Circumstances

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


Relevant Side Story

Saturday, March 11, 2011

Glory Girl

"Hey, wait up!"

Some two hundred yards ahead, Crystal looked back over her shoulder. Vicky was too far back to tell if a look of exasperation had crossed her cousin's face, but Crystal slowed in her flight anyway. "What?" she asked as Vicky caught up.

"Nothing." Vicky grinned at the irritation that was definitely showing on her cousin's face now. "I just didn't want to have to trail behind you all the way, while you pretended not to be going where you're going, and I pretended not to be following you."

Crystal slowed to a hover and folded her arms. "So where do you think I'm going, smartass?"

"Where you told Aunt Sarah you were going. Palanquin." Vicky emulated Crystal's pose, because it was funny. "Aunt Sarah called Mom, and Mom told me to go along with you and make sure nothing weird happened this time." She smirked and waggled her eyebrows. "Because apparently I'm the responsible one of the family, these days."

"You?" An entire universe's worth of disbelief was packed into that one word. "Since when?"

Vicky unfolded her arms so she could buff her nails, then study them critically. "Since I'm not the one who managed to make PHO's list of top ten walks of shame so far this year."

"What—you—" Crystal gaped at her. "You—I—seriously, wow! That's so not fair! Would you like an annotated list of all the things you've managed to bust? Or should I just give you the link to the YouTube channel Collateral Damage Barbie's Greatest Hits?"

Just hearing the name of the last one made Vicky wince a little inside. Still, she managed to rally. "I'm doing better, these days. Ever since I got my wake-up call, I've been a lot more careful about not jumping in feet first. So yeah, I'm responsible."

"Wake-up call?" Crystal tilted her head to one side. "What wake-up call?"

"I'm shocked Ames hasn't already told you." Vicky had more or less assumed this would be the case.

"Let me fix that right now." Crystal pulled out her phone.

"No, no, don't." Vicky waved for her to put it away again. "She had an amazing date last night, and I don't want you bothering her with my mess." She sighed. "It was when I first met Atropos. I went for her, but she took me down like it was an afterthought. Then she collapsed my force field and held her shears this far from my eye while she explained the facts of life to me."

Crystal eyed the tiny gap between her finger and thumb and shuddered. "The facts of life?"

"Yeah, basically it boiled down to 'I can kill you any time I feel like it, so don't make me feel like it' and 'if someone tells you to back the fuck off, it's time to back the fuck off'." Vicky drew a long breath, the recollection of the fear she'd felt at the time still strong in her mind. "Then she killed off the Nine and posted the footage online. Any doubts I'd had went out the window after that. Ever since then, I've been a lot more careful."

"Yeah, no shit. That got everyone's attention." Crystal shook her head. "So, Miss Responsible Two Thousand Eleven, do Aunt Carol and Uncle Mark know about how you showed up at Damsel of Distress' place last night with drinks?"

Vicky stared at her, astonishment flushing through her system. "What … how the fuck did you know that?"

"Hah, so it was you." Crystal smirked. "Someone from her apartment building posted on PHO that they'd seen someone who looked a lot like you, carrying a shopping bag with what looked like booze inside it, getting all touchy-feely with Damsel before she let you inside." It was her turn to waggle her eyebrows. "So remind me again, how did you get to be the responsible one?"

"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me." Vicky gritted her teeth. "Okay, fine. Ashley and me both work for the Committee, sometimes on the same worksite. She had a big blowup with one of the site foremen on Thursday, so I decided to try to cheer her up last night by taking over a pack of cider as a housewarming gift." She glared at Crystal. "Non-alcoholic cider, just to make it absolutely clear. Unlike some people, I don't drink underage."

"Doesn't explain the touchy-feely bit," Crystal teased her.

Vicky shrugged, on firmer ground now. "It's the first time she's ever had a housewarming gift, so she hugged me then invited me in for dinner. Afterward, we watched that new cape comedy on TV, then I went home. The end."

"Oh, To Mask or Not to Mask? I've heard it's pretty funny." Crystal looked vaguely disappointed that she had nothing to tease Vicky over. "Well, it was nice of you to be so neighbourly for her."

"Oh, for sure. She's a lot of fun once she relaxes a bit." Vicky caught the look of disbelief on Crystal's face. "She is. She told me about how she didn't used to be, but Atropos pulled some bullshit on Thursday afternoon and helped her get rid of all her mental problems. And now she's learning how to be a person again. She's got an awesome sense of humour. We both nearly peed ourselves laughing when Hawkwing faceplanted that haystack."

"Whoa, whoa, spoilers!" Crystal scissored her hands together. "I wanna watch that sometime, too!"

"Okay, sorry, sorry." Vicky grinned. "So, did you want to go meet your girlfriend?"

Crystal wrinkled her nose. "She's not my girlfriend. They're not my girlfriends."

"Methinks the lady doth protest overmuch." Now that she'd managed to steer the conversation back to Crystal's indiscretions, Vicky grinned. "Whatever you are to each other, it doesn't matter to me. But if Faultline's not your girlfriend, why were you going there, anyway?"

Crystal gave Vicky a brief, measured glance. "Because Atropos is going to be there, duh. One or more members of the Crew have problematic powers, so Melanie's asked if the powers can be killed. I've been invited to be there for it, basically as a witness, I guess."

Atropos. Vicky still held her in absolute respect, and she was of course aware that Atropos could kill powers. Like everyone else on PHO, she wasn't exactly certain how this was accomplished, except for a vague 'she wants the power gone, it's gone'. Because, as far as she could tell, that was exactly how it happened. And in all truth, she really didn't feel like pressing the issue, for several reasons; the main one being, 'what if she does it to me?'.

"Okay, then." She thought about it for a moment. "Do you think Faultline will have a problem with me coming along? Or will Atropos?"

Crystal chuckled and shook her head. "I'll ask Melanie. But with Atropos, you're on your own." She took out her phone and called up a number. "Hi, yeah, it's me. I'm only a few minutes away. Listen, uh, Glory Girl's been assigned as my chaperone, sort of thing, and I need to know if it's okay for her to come in with me." A few seconds later, she nodded. "Uh huh, okay, yeah. Thanks, I'll tell her."

From the tone of the last few words, Vicky thought she knew what had been said, but she still looked at her cousin curiously as Crystal put the phone away. "So, is that a yea or a nay?"

Crystal shrugged. "She said it's fine with her, but if Atropos has a problem with it …" The sentence trailed off meaningfully.

"Haha nope, if Atropos has a problem, I'm outta there." That was a no-brainer in every sense of the phrase. However, she didn't think it would turn out that way. Given how prescient Atropos had been during every encounter they'd had, the black-clad killer no doubt knew she was coming along and had accounted for it. And while Atropos was whimsical, snarky, brutal, and thoughtful by turns, she was never actually petty.

Except for her love of doing jump-scares. Which Vicky couldn't really blame her for, having done exactly the same thing herself more than once. She's just better at it.

"Good. Well, they're waiting on us." Turning in midair, Crystal set off again toward the distant bulk of the Palanquin building.

Vicky followed along, simultaneously aware that while she wasn't really sure that she wanted to be there, she also wouldn't miss it for the world.


Laserdream

They landed on the roof of the Palanquin building, just next to the roof entrance. The door was open, with a large bald man wearing pants and an open coat standing in the doorway. Crystal recognised him as Gregor the Snail; the translucent skin with the shell-like growths here and there were kind of a giveaway.

"Welcome to Palanquin," he said, in a kind of parody of formality. "Please come in, ladies." He had a slight accent, one that Crystal couldn't place. Maybe northern European?

"Hi," Crystal said, then stopped. There was nothing she could think of to say about Melanie that didn't hold the possibility of severe embarrassment if it came out wrong. "I'm, uh, I'm pleased to meet you." She held out her hand. "Crystal."

He shook it blandly, as though this sort of thing happened to him every day. To her relief, his skin didn't feel as weird as it looked, and he didn't go for the hyper-masculine hand-crunch. "It is good to meet you, Crystal. Call me Gregor." His expression was frankly curious, as though he was wondering exactly what his boss saw in her.

"And I'm Vicky, but you knew that." Stepping up alongside Crystal, Vicky stuck her hand out too.

This had the possibly-deliberate effect of defusing the awkward moment as Gregor shifted his attention to her cousin. "I did, yes. You are aware that we have been invited back in by Atropos and that we will no longer be working illegally?" As he asked the question, he took her hand and shook it as well.

"Yeah, I'd heard something like that." Vicky chuckled. "You guys are way too smart to come back uninvited, and nobody second-guesses Atropos. Between the ex-villains and the Eagletons working on the reconstruction, we're getting stuff done amazingly fast."

"Eagletons—oh, the robots." Gregor allowed the door to close, then turned and began to lead the way downstairs. "So they are working out, then?"

"Heck, yeah." Vicky sounded downright pleased. "There's enough work for everyone, and they've been slotted in where they can do the most good. According to them, they really appreciate the chance to show that they've been reformed without needing to be reformatted."

For a second, Crystal thought she was being serious, then she caught the sidelong grin and the way Vicky had emphasised the words, and she facepalmed. "Oh, God. Robot jokes? Really?"

"Hey, don't blame me." Vicky smirked. "Joe Eagleton told me that one himself."

Crystal shook her head. "Why does that not surprise me? Gregor, back me up here. That was a terrible joke, and Vicky's a terrible person for repeating it."

"It is not as bad as some I have heard from Newter." Although she couldn't see his face, he sounded like he was smiling.

She decided to roll with it. "Hey, wait," she protested with a faux scowl. "You're supposed to be on my side, not hers!"

"Where is that written down?" He definitely sounded like he was enjoying himself. "I am sure you would not wish me to be prejudiced toward your opinion simply because you are friends with Faultline."

"Hell, yes," she countered. "That's the first rule for dealing with friends of your boss, even before the Unwritten ones. Look it up."

"Ah, but Faultline disapproves strongly of nepotism." He glanced back over his shoulder slyly. "I doubt she would give the okay for you to be shown any kind of undue favouritism, especially as you are a member of a totally different team." He opened a door from the stairwell and led them down a corridor.

Crystal wasn't done yet. "It's not nepotism if you just agree with me. That's merely showing good judgement. Anyway, showing me favouritism isn't undue. It's totally my due. Just ask me."

"We shall see." Gregor stopped at a large office door, opened it, and made an ushering motion. "Here we are."

As she entered, Crystal saw that in the room was the entire lineup of Faultline's Crew, as well as Anne Barnes. Anne sat to one side, with Newter and Labyrinth on the other. Newter looked around Vicky's age, with orange skin, red-blond hair, and a five-foot-long tail; Labyrinth was in her early twenties, with platinum blonde hair and a dark green robe with a maze pattern on it. More oddly, a trellis with roses growing on it had erected itself over Labyrinth, and vines were climbing the wall. Melanie sat behind her desk, wearing her costume but with her welding-mask face covering lying in front of her.

"Crystal," she said warmly, standing up from behind her desk. "Good to see you again. Glory Girl, it's nice to see you too. I presume you know the score?"

"Yeah, Crystal and Gregor filled me in." Vicky looked around the room with undisguised curiosity, including the large window overlooking the currently-deserted main floor of the nightclub. "Wow, this is not a place I ever expected to find myself." She frowned as she looked at the other two ex-villains. "Newter, right? And … Labyrinth?" The last name was spoken uncertainly.

"That's correct." Melanie came around the desk and gave Crystal a hug and a kiss, and if both lingered a little longer than normal, that was their business and nobody else's. Then she turned to address Vicky. "I understand you've had dealings with Atropos before."

"Oh, yeah." Vicky nodded. "She's absolutely a hardass if you try to screw her around, but play it straight and you haven't got a worry in the world."

Crystal approached Anne. "When did you get here? I could've picked you up, you know."

Anne snorted with amusement. "What, and get everyone all excited over us two flying to Faultline's place? I drove my car here, and parked out back. Newter was nice enough to let me in, about two minutes before you got here." Anne gave Crystal another hug and kiss, which she returned.

"Well, the gang's all here," Vicky announced. "And Atropos is undoubtedly about to make her usual dramatic entrance, right, Atropos?"

The shadowy doorway appeared in the middle of the room, and Atropos stepped out of it. "What, were you expecting another jump scare? That's only funny a couple of times."

Vicky rolled her eyes. "You certainly seemed to enjoy making me jump."

"Some people are easier to startle than others." Atropos gestured toward Melanie. "Faultline, here? The first time I showed up in the passenger seat of her car, she jumped. But I bet she wouldn't twitch an eyelash if I popped up in front of her from now on." She tilted her head slightly, then went on in tones of fond recollection. "Ex-director Wilkins, on the other hand? I showed up in front of her and she literally fell out of her office chair."

Newter was still sitting in his chair, though he'd visibly started when Atropos appeared. "I never met the woman, but I knew her by reputation. I'd have paid money to see that."

"Check your emails. There's a link to the security footage in your inbox." Ignoring his sudden scrabbling for his phone, Atropos turned to Melanie. "So, is it just Labyrinth who wants to lose her powers, or do any other members of your Crew want to get rid of them as well? I can make it a package deal."

"Ah, good point. I will certainly be keeping my powers. Gregor, Newter?" Melanie looked at the two named subordinates. "What's your choice in this matter?"

"I believe I will be keeping mine," Gregor decided stolidly. "I am used to them. Also, I suspect they may be useful if I find work with the Committee."

"They absolutely will be," Atropos agreed. "I understand incoming capes get to talk to the Chairman, a Mr Hebert. He's apparently got a talent for placing people where their talents can shine."

Newter looked up from his phone and nodded. "Yeah, sure, I'll keep mine too. Not sure what use they'd be, except for keeping out of the way of trouble, but I'll join up if they'll have me."

"I suspect he might sub you onto the medical staff. Your sweat has no deleterious side effects, and would act as a potent painkiller if someone's been injured." Atropos nodded to him, then turned to Labyrinth. "Alright then. Let's do this. Elle, do you know who I am?"

For a long moment, Crystal thought the young woman wouldn't respond to the softly-voiced question. Labyrinth—Elle—had that disassociated air that she'd seen in people with autism and other neuro-divergent conditions. If they went off into their own little worlds—and from what she'd seen in this room, it wasn't just a turn of phrase for Labyrinth—they were often very hard to bring back.

But something about Atropos' tone or question triggered a response. Elle blinked, looking up at her. "Yes. You're the monster that hunts other monsters in the dark."

Atropos may have smiled; Crystal couldn't tell. "That's a fair description," she allowed. "Do you want me to End your powers for you, so you don't see all those other worlds?"

Long seconds ticked by while Elle considered that, or perhaps she was estimating the thread count in Atropos' morph mask. "I won't wake up in the jagged room anymore?" she asked eventually.

"Not even once." Atropos' voice was firm.

"There are many worlds, and some are very pretty." Elle's tone was contemplative. "But others are bad. And when I feel bad, I wake up in bad places." She gave Atropos a direct look. "Yes."

"Jeeesus," muttered Newter. "That's the most she's spoken to anyone who wasn't us in, like, ever."

"Alright then." Atropos gestured, and there was suddenly a small plastic capsule in her hand. "There's a grape in there. Eat it."

Elle took the capsule. It opened easily enough. "Like Alice?"

"Exactly like Alice. But don't expect a March Hare to come hopping through." Atropos seemed to be enjoying a private joke. Crystal suspected she knew what that was about, but she'd have to ask to be sure.

Taking the grape out—it was a green seedless type—Elle popped it into her mouth, chewed and swallowed. Crystal found herself holding her breath. Atropos raised her hand; one finger seemed to be tapping the air like a timer. "… and done," she declared, snapping her fingers for emphasis.

"What, that's it?" asked Newter. "No offense, but …"

"None taken." Atropos pointed at the wall, where the vines had started to creep across the ceiling. As Crystal watched, they retreated, pulling back down the wall to the trellis. The roses closed, the buds shrank into the vines, and the whole assemblage gradually deconstructed itself back into the wall.

"Elle?" asked Melanie, stepping closer and taking the young woman's hands in hers. "How do you feel?"

"Um, wow?" Elle said uncertainly. "I feel like I've just had the world's biggest jolt of caffeine. It's as if I've just woken up properly for the first time since I got powers."

"Do I want to know what the jagged room was?" Vicky asked of the room. Crystal had wanted to know that too, but hadn't been sure how to ask.

Gregor fielded that one. "Elle had many unpleasant memories of the asylum, seen through the filter of her powers. Sometimes she would wake up and her room had a solid metal door with spikes on it. Razor-edged rusty blades hanging from the ceiling. Any incautious movement would draw blood. The longer she stayed in that room, in that mental state, the farther the influence would spread through the building."

"Hey, Elle," Newter offered. "Do you remember me?"

"Sure," she replied, far more animated than she had been before ingesting the grape. "I know who you all are, and I truly appreciate everything you've done for me." Standing up, she hugged a startled Melanie. "You took me in, and took care of me, and helped me get control of my powers so I didn't get lost in my own head so much. Thank you so much."

"Your vocabulary's impressive for someone who's been stuck with power complications for ten years," Melanie observed, but she didn't pull free of the hug.

"Well, duh." Elle chuckled. "While I've been hanging out with you guys, I've heard everything you said. My brain made sense of everything that came in, but outgoing communication was locked down hard. Until now, of course." She turned a beaming smile on Atropos. "And thank you, too."

"You're entirely welcome." Atropos nodded to Melanie, then to Crystal and Anne and Vicky. "My work here is done. Toodles." Raising her hand, she snapped her fingers and vanished.

"Um … okay, then." Crystal shook her head. "That definitely happened." And, if she was being honest with herself, it had been way more painless than she'd expected.

"So you're back with us for good, then." Newter grinned broadly. "Awesome."

"You are just saying that because it means no more babysitting duty," Gregor said, so blandly that Crystal was almost taken in by his words.

"Dude!" Newter had apparently fallen for it. "Not cool!"

Elle broke away from Melanie. "Gregor, that was mean. Newter, it's fine. You were a great babysitter."

Crystal, Vicky, and Anne approached Melanie. "So, uh, what are your plans now?" asked Crystal. "I thought you were selling this place."

"The sale still hasn't gone all the way through. It'll cost me a fee to reverse it, but I can eat that cost." Melanie gestured at the window, and the club beyond. "Assholes were lowballing me because I wanted to get out fast, so I wouldn't have got as much as I wanted. Anyway, I was thinking about rebranding. If we set up to cater for Committee workers, maybe put in pool tables and suchlike, we'd be good for as long as the reconstruction lasted. Beyond that, if most of them stayed."

Anne nodded. "In my non-expert opinion, I think that could work. Have a non-alcoholic section for the Committee workers who aren't twenty-one yet, and make sure never the twain shall meet, and you might have a winner there."

"Yeah." Vicky snorted in amusement. "I'm pretty sure you couldn't get away with that a second time, even on the campus."

Melanie grinned and flipped her off. "So, noted. Now, all I have to do is figure out how to cater to the Eagletons. I'm sure they'd come to the club along with their buddies, but how do you serve alcohol to a robot in a way that makes sense?" At that moment, her phone pinged audibly. "Hang on, this could be the real-estate guys now."

As Melanie pulled out her phone to check it, Crystal felt Anne's hand bump into hers, and she twined her fingers with the other girl's in a way that felt totally natural. She could tell that Vicky, on her other side, was pretending to ignore the surreptitious hand-holding, but she didn't care.

Melanie huffed out an exasperated sigh. "Okay, now she's just yanking my chain on purpose." She tapped the screen, then flicked it to swipe across.

"Who's yanking your chain, and how?" asked Anne. Crystal suspected she knew the who, if not the how.

Melanie cleared her throat. "I just got emailed a bunch of technical diagrams and specs. 'How to Safely Emulate the Effects of Alcohol in Robots'. Author name: A. Tropos."

Crystal found herself giggling uncontrollably, and Anne joined in a moment later. That was so totally Atropos. All four of them ended up laughing at the shared joke, while the other three stared at them oddly. This only made Crystal laugh harder.

It wasn't just the tongue-in-cheek author name, though that was part of it. Most of her mirth stemmed from the release of tension; she hadn't known what was going to happen at Palanquin, even with Vicky along, and the ease and smoothness of the whole process had left her on the back foot.

"Well, damn," Vicky observed after they'd sobered a little. "Looks like you're gonna be running the first robot nightclub in the world. How cool's that?"

Crystal nodded and squeezed Anne's hand. "Pretty damn cool."



End of Part Eighty-Five

A Darker Path

Part Eighty-Six: Same Day, Different Date

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



Stanley Partridge considered himself to be smarter than average. Ever since he was old enough to understand his options, he'd always made the choice that benefited Stanley Partridge. Everything else came second.

Why study, he'd reasoned as far back as middle school, if what they're testing you for won't ever apply in real life? He had better things to do with his time. So he'd befriended the hardest workers in his grade and persuaded (or coerced) them into 'helping' him with his schoolwork.

Going into high school, he didn't always have the option of getting someone to do his work for him, so he learned to cheat in other ways. Whether it was teasing open the lock of the teacher's desk to get an advance look at the next test paper, or bribing someone from a higher grade to help him out, he was always one step ahead of the administration.

It occurred to him once when he was sneaking into the school in the dead of night that if he applied that kind of effort to actually studying, he could come by the marks honestly, but he dismissed the thought. If he started playing the game by their rules now, it would mean they'd won, that their way was better than his.

It would mean they were smarter than him.

And that just wasn't true. He was smarter than them. He was smarter than everyone.

At the end of tenth grade, he dropped out of school. This was a calculated move: on the one hand, he'd heard that it was a lot harder to fake doing the work in eleventh and twelfth grade. The teachers were a lot sharper (though they still weren't on his level), and might pick up on copied work. Also, bribing someone of a higher grade to help wouldn't work once he hit twelfth grade anyway.

On the other hand, he already knew everything he needed to about life. He was sixteen, but husky enough to pass for eighteen. There was no doubt in his mind that he could get any job he wanted, and learn to do whatever it was better than anyone.

And that was when he hit his first snag.

Up until then, he'd always been able to wriggle his way though the cracks presented by people who didn't care enough to pay real attention to his words and deeds, and those who were venal enough or scared enough to give him what he needed. But now, presenting a good front wasn't enough. It didn't matter that he was a quicker thinker than the people he was seeking to get a job from; they had vastly more experience in the world, and in the type of bullshit he was trying to peddle, than he did.

For the first time in his life, he hit a brick wall. Unlike the teachers he'd left behind, his prospective employers actually wanted to see ability, demonstrated in front of them. If he couldn't perform, they had no incentive to give him a pass and move him on to where he wanted to be. There was no option for persuading or wheedling, and no second chances. They simply said 'no' and turned him away. A couple even said, "Go back to school."

He didn't go back to school. Going back to school would be an admission that he'd made the wrong move, that he wasn't as smart as he knew he was. Instead, he persuaded himself that he didn't really want to become a wage-slave for The Man. That way was for idiots and morons.

But he still needed money. There was no work going, even for casual labour, because Brockton Bay wasn't exactly an economic powerhouse. However, there were still ways to get ahead for someone who had their ear to the ground and an eye out for the main chance. Long story short, his best bet was to join a gang.

His choices in this regard were somewhat more limited than he'd initially thought. Drugs were not his entertainment of choice (except maybe for a bit of weed every now and again), so Skidmark's almost-gang wasn't even a possibility. He wasn't Asian, so the ABB were off the table. The name Coil had cropped up, but the guy didn't recruit from inside Brockton Bay.

Which left the Empire Eighty-Eight.

While this would've been problematic with someone of a more ethical bent, it didn't bother Stanley overmuch. He didn't hate minorities, but he didn't love them either. If kicking someone's ribs in was what it took to get a place in the gang, then ribs would be kicked. He was smart enough to know that his own welfare came first.

So he took his place in the Empire Eighty-Eight, and life was good. Some got tattoos as a way of showing their loyalty to the gang, but anyone with an ounce of savvy knew that such permanent markings had a way of coming back to bite people in later life, so he always had an excuse why he wasn't going to get one quite yet. Getting a buzz-cut was almost as good, and hair could always grow back.

Months passed, then years. He wasn't stupid enough to put himself forward when it was something that could get him killed, because he was just using the Empire Eighty-Eight as cover. But when someone else did, he had no problem with moving up in the ranks.

Then Atropos came to Brockton Bay, and everything went tits-up and sideways, all at once.

Kaiser got taken out on the second day, before Stanley even thought it was time to get concerned. As a direct result, every cape in the Empire Eighty-Eight either left town or (in the case of Hookwolf) died. The gang itself began haemorrhaging members, of whom Stanley was one, because hanging on past its use-by date was not what he considered the best move in the world. He didn't have to worry about the ABB, because Lung died twenty-four hours after Kaiser did, and Skidmark bit the dust one day after that.

There was definitely a trend going on here. Criminal capes were on Atropos' radar, so Stanley did the smart thing and kept his head down. Even if the Nine came to town, he decided, he wouldn't try to sign up with them. (And then they did try, and died, which only proved he'd been right all along).

But once again, even as villains and their minions were dying all over the place in numbers that could've been avoided if they'd just stayed away, he needed an income stream. There still wasn't much work going around, so he decided to keep doing what he had been before, but go freelance with it. If he didn't kill anyone, and didn't hurt people unless they did something really stupid, he was pretty sure Atropos would have a lot of other people to go through before she got to him.

Plus, she always gave two warnings. He paid attention to things like that. One would be enough for him.

By the time the Betterment Committee kicked over (and he got his stimulus card) he'd gathered to himself a bunch of like-minded guys, who listened to what he said about not getting the attention of the scary girl in black. He could've quit crime at that point and applied for employment on the rebuilding, but that sounded too much like work to him, and he'd already made the decision once before that working for The Man was a fool's game. So, while some of his people went to become wage-slaves like the rest of the sheep, he stayed independent, because he knew better than them that the work wouldn't last. It never did.

And so, there he was one fine Saturday night, lurking with his boys in a side-street just off the Boardwalk. There was more money about these days, so pickings were definitely better than when he'd first gone freelance. It only proved what he'd already known; you just had to be smart about who you picked to rob.


Boardwalk, Saturday Evening, March 11

Anne Barnes

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" asked Crystal, lounging against the rail and looking amazing in a blouse and slacks of magenta and white; while ruby earrings, a purse, and a hairband of the same colour made up the rest of her ensemble. "Did we have anything in mind, or were we just going to wing it?"

Melanie had chosen a severe black theme, with a dress that had been cut to be flattering to her form (not that it needed to work very hard). Her shoulder-bag, bigger than most, also came in black. She'd gone with makeup and jewellery in various muted shades of colour, which made her look dark and mysterious and cool. "I was thinking we could start with a meal at Drinks on the Bay, followed by a stroll to take in the sights of the Boardwalk then a movie. Sounds good?"

Anne nodded. With an idea of how Crystal and Melanie would dress, she'd opted for ocean and beach colours to draw out her eyes and hair, and she thought she looked okay, but nowhere near as good as they did. "Sure. Dad took Mom out to dinner there after the reopening, a couple of weeks ago. They came home raving about the seafood platter."

"I do like seafood," Crystal agreed. "If it's that good, I'll have to tell my folks about it too." Linking her arm through Anne's, she tilted her head in the direction of the restaurant.

Melanie smiled. "I have read good reviews about it. And of course, having members of New Wave dining there can't hurt its reputation in the slightest." She came in on Anne's other side, so that Anne had a cape on either arm. Together, they started off along the Boardwalk.

"If we're trying to keep whatever we've got on the down-low until we figure out what it is, maybe we shouldn't make a big deal about who Crystal is once we get there," Anne suggested. She gave Crystal an apologetic shrug. "Not trying to tear you down or anything, but PHO can be pretty unforgiving. And all it takes is one person posting a photo online, especially without context."

"Or even with context," Crystal agreed with a smile. "Trust me, Aunt Carol's waxed lyrical on the subject. All us kids had it explained to us multiple times that we always had to assume there was a camera pointed at us whenever we were in public, and that we were never, ever off the record." The smile became almost a grimace. "I would've expected Eric to be the one to slip up on that, but Vicky was the one who stepped in it more often than not."

"Oh, the Collateral Damage Barbie stuff?" Anne had watched a few clips from that channel. Most were funny, but a few were just cringe-inducing. "Has she gotten better—wait. Is that who I think it is?"

Because both arms were occupied, she nodded toward the quartet of girls up ahead; two had been on the Boardwalk already, and were greeting the other two who had just gotten off at the bus stop. It might just have been the fact that she had Crystal on her arm, but one of the girls looked remarkably familiar, despite being dressed up to the nines. The frizzy hair, normally hidden under a hood, had been brushed to a gleam and was neatly tied back, but her face was still recognisable.

"Huh, you're right," Crystal confirmed. "It is Amy. I'd heard she had a girlfriend. Good for her."

Melanie chuckled as they drew closer. "It does seem to be getting around, doesn't it?"

Something Anne's sociology professor had once said came back to her. "It's more that the societal pressure against same-sex romance in Brockton Bay has eased all the way off, so people are feeling more free to express it. It's coming out now because it was here all along but suppressed, not because it's something new." The more she thought about it, the more that seemed to apply to her own situation as well. Colour me surprised. He had a point.

A moment later, one of the girls looked around and said something to Panacea, who turned in their direction. Anne would've bet a large amount of money that it was something along the lines of, 'hey, isn't that your cousin?'. Instead of ducking away—as Anne half-expected her to do—Amy smiled broadly and led the way toward them.

"Hi, Amy," Crystal greeted her as they got close enough to talk. "Vicky said you went out on a date last night. It must've gone really well if you're going out again tonight."

"Oh, yeah, we had a ball." Amy gestured toward the Asian girl who was part of the other couple in her foursome. "But Lily's only in town until Monday morning, so we're making the most of it. Um, so this is Sabah, and that's Emily, and of course this is Lily. Everyone, meet my cousin Crystal, and Anne Barnes, and … I'm sorry, I don't think we've met?"

Melanie smiled and introduced herself, and there was a round of nice-to-meet-you and how-are-you-doing as was usual for this sort of thing. In the middle of it, Anne caught Melanie exchanging a brief nod with Amy and realised that the healer had pretended ignorance of the former's identity, despite almost certainly having been briefed by her parents about what had happened. If she was reading the signs right, Amy was doing her own little bit to keep the potential three-way relationship under wraps until it became unavoidably public.

"So where were you going to, anyway?" asked Crystal. "We've all heard good things about Drinks on the Bay, so we were going to start our night there."

Amy's date, the shy young woman called Sabah, took a step closer to Melanie. "Excuse me, but where do you get your dresses done? The cut is very nice."

"Sabah's a fashion student at the College," Amy explained briefly, then refocused on Crystal. "We hadn't really decided, to be honest. I think we were just going to head along the Boardwalk until the growling of our stomachs got too loud to hear ourselves talk, and get something to eat wherever we were."

Anne tilted her head. "Actually, now you come to mention it, I think I have seen you around the campus. Huh. Small world."

"I've, uh, had to tailor my own clothing from time to time," Melanie explained. "I bought this one off the rack, but since then I've altered it here and there to fit me better." She looked at Amy's group. "You know what? It's been a really good day for me, so I'm going to do something nice to celebrate. How would all four of you like to come to the restaurant with us? My treat."

Anne met Crystal's eyes briefly; they both knew exactly what she was referring to, and Anne personally agreed that it was grounds for celebration. From the look on Crystal's face, she thought so too.

"Only if you're sure," Amy said uncertainly. "I mean, so long as it's not just because you and Crystal are friends."

Melanie chuckled warmly. "Well, I'd be lying if I said that wasn't part of it, but it's more than just that. A good friend of mine had a huge problem Ended today, and it's a massive weight off everyone's mind. So, this is me paying it forward."

From the flicker of recognition in Amy's eye, she'd possibly picked up on Melanie's tone, but again she didn't call attention to it. "Well, okay then. Thank you so much. Guys, the decision has been made. We're going to the restaurant."

"Wow, thank you!" the girl called Emily gushed. "That's so amazing!"

Sabah nodded in agreement. "We really appreciate it. I've heard it's a nice place."

"Yeah, what they said," Lily added. "This is all kinds of awesome."

"So, which way is it again?" asked Crystal.

Amy pointed. "Down this way, I think."


Stanley

"Heads up!" hissed Fedor, the lookout. "Seven chicks, no guys!"

That was exactly what Stanley wanted to hear. Guys in a situation like this sometimes got a rush of testosterone to the brain and did something stupid. He preferred it when everyone understood how this sort of thing went and cooperated. And if they were tourists, they could even go home with a story about how they got mugged in Brockton Bay. Looked at in the correct light, it was almost a rite of passage.

"Places!" he ordered, keeping his voice down as he ducked into his chosen hiding spot.

It was the kind of narrow side-street that could be found throughout Brockton Bay, allowing one-way transit between the Boardwalk (and the businesses that fronted onto it) and Lord Street proper. Perfect for his purposes, it was wide enough not to be an actual alleyway (which nobody with half a brain walked down in Brockton Bay, for obvious reasons) but still narrow enough that people could be trapped in it and made to give up their worldly goods without too much of a fuss. The dumpsters that lined it took up most of both sidewalks, forcing any pedestrians to walk on the road itself, and incidentally providing ample hiding places for people like his little gang.

He hadn't named the gang. This was because he wasn't a fucking idiot. Only people who wanted official attention gave themselves grandiose names.

The group of seven—young women and teenage girls—walked casually down the street, chatting as they came. Peering through a gap between dumpsters, Stanley could see two of the women glancing around, but the rest were cheerfully oblivious. He resolved to keep an extra careful eye on the tallish black-haired one, who walked like she knew how to handle herself, and the blonde chick, who looked kind of familiar.

At the right moment, he threw a rock across the street, to hit the dumpster on the far side. At that signal, everyone jumped up out of cover and moved across to block the road; four in front, four behind. The soon-to-be-mugging-victims had paused at the sound, which broke their momentum, just as he'd planned. Now they were stalled in the middle of the street, with his men surrounding them.

"Ladies," he said, because opening with politeness often made women feel that they had to respond in kind, even if you were robbing them. "You can't run away, and I'd advise you not to try to fight us. All we want are your valuables, and then you can go on your way. So hand them over, and this doesn't have to get unpleasant."

The red-headed chick gave him what was probably supposed to be a withering stare. He'd had worse. "You really have no idea how big a mistake you just made, do you?"

Great. A feisty one. Some men claimed to like chicks with 'verve' or 'spunk' or whatever the term was these days. Stanley didn't, because if one decided to put up a fight, then the others might join in, and then shit would get messy. "Honey, I'm not the one who just walked down a dark street, right into the middle of a bunch of muggers. Now, start getting your valuables out, because if my guys have to go and get them, I can't answer for the consequences."

"Yeah, actually, you can." He couldn't believe it. She was literally answering him back? "My Dad's a lawyer, and he says if you commit a crime, you're responsible for everything that happens as a result."

His temper was at breaking point. "I honestly don't give a fuck. Now, shut your mouth before I shut it for you."

She turned to the tall black-haired woman beside her, one of the pair who'd been looking around earlier. "He's being mean to me. Make him stop."

The woman she'd addressed—who, now Stanley was paying attention to her, looked fit as fuck—gave him a once up-and-down, leaving him feeling like he was a slab of beef that had been found wanting. "Go ahead," she said in a tone that was anything but inviting. "Come over here and try to shut her mouth."

"Okay!" the blonde chick snapped, and fucking levitated six feet straight up. "Enough's enough. I'm Laserdream of New Wave, and you're all under arrest. Put down any weapons you've got, and we're all gonna wait for the cops."

"Nuh-uh." Stanley could see the odds were still solidly in favour of his guys. "What we've got is you plus six hostages. Power down now, and nobody gets hurt. Or fly away; I don't care." He knew she couldn't just open fire with her lasers, because him and his guys were normals, not capes, and killing muggers wasn't a good look for anyone, much less New Wave.

The frizzy-haired girl raised her hand. "Panacea of New Wave, here. Do you really want to fuck with capes? Because this is not going to go the way you expect it to."

While a couple of his guys looked nervous, Stanley kept his head. He did a quick scan of the rest of the women, looking for more New Wave members. No guys, so that left out Flashbang and Manpower. Nobody else was blonde, so that settled it. "You're not a front-line cape. And last I heard, you can't even heal yourself, so I'd keep your opinions to yourself if I were you."

"This guy is really pissing me off," remarked the Asian chick. "Can we please do something about this?"

Stanley had had enough. "Shut up!" he yelled, pulling out his folding knife and clicking it open. "Get their stuff!"

"Don't cut anyone!" Panacea shouted as he started to close in with his guys. "I don't want to get blood on this dress!"

"That's not—" Stanley's retort was cut short as the tall black-haired chick cut out of the group like a shark through minnows, heading straight for him.

He waved his blade at her, but she tapped it with a fingertip; to his astonishment, it fell apart in a burst of reddish energy. Then her fist came in, hard and fast. She had moves, but he was okay with being hit. It wouldn't be the first time, or the last.

The punch nearly took his head off, or felt like it. Pain exploded across his jaw as he felt teeth come loose, and he spun around, losing his balance. The asphalt came up to meet his face, then he rolled onto his back.

Off to the side, he saw the Asian chick dancing between two of his guys, handing out elbows and palm strikes like they were on Christmas special, knocking them on their asses. A couple more of his guys had tripped and fallen before they even got close. Two more were facing off against the chick with curly brown hair, right before she spewed a line of fire that set a garbage can alight and forced them to reconsider the idea.

Fedor came in after the chick who'd dropped Stanley, but he fared no better. When she kicked him between the legs, there must've been something extra behind the kick, because the big Russian émigré went down like a busted folding chair. And then it was all over. Eight in, eight down, and the women were barely breathing hard.

"Like I said," Laserdream told him, coming in for a landing beside him. "You're all under arrest. Being a mugger in Brockton Bay, these days? Not a smart career move at all."


Hebert Household

Taylor

I relaxed slightly on the sofa. Amy and Lily were no longer in any danger (not that they'd been in much peril to begin with) and Parian and Spitfire were okay as well. Between them, Laserdream and Faultline were mopping up the casualties. I figured they'd be irritated that they'd have to wait for the police, but I'd already made an anonymous call two minutes before, and the BBPD response time was vastly improved from even a month ago.

The fight had been impressively handled. Between Parian literally tying together the shoelaces of some of the muggers and Faultline's surreptitiously donned knuckledusters (and the concealed steel toes in her stylish looking boots), Laserdream hadn't even had to intervene, aside from putting a protective force field over Amy, Anne and Parian. It just went to show that I wasn't needed to sort out every last detail of cleaning up the city.

"All good?" asked Cherie, beside me, without looking up from her new book; this one was called Rabbit Hill. I'd enjoyed it, once upon a time.

She was turning out to be quite the bookworm, once encouraged to start. I found it endearing.

"Yeah." I stretched without getting up. "They handled it just fine."

"Cool."

The house phone rang, and Dad got up to answer it. I picked up the remote and muted the TV so he'd be able to hear whoever was on the other end. Hopefully, it wasn't some aspect of Committee business that would drag him back to the offices at this late hour. Nothing was pinging on my radar, anyway.

"You've reached the Hebert household, Danny speaking." He paused, his eyes staring into nothing. "Chief Director Costa-Brown? How can I help you?"

Sitting up, I pointed to myself, then yanked my mask out of my pocket—I'd had no idea why I needed it, but that was Ending all over, the troll—and pulled it on over my head. I was standing all the way up by the time it was on all the way, and heading toward where Dad was.

"No need for me to contact her," he answered whatever she said. "She's right here. Betterment Committee business. I'm giving the phone to her now."

Taking the receiver, I put it to my ear. "Atropos speaking," I reported. "What's the situation?" Because I was damn sure Costa-Brown wouldn't be trying to contact me for a casual chat. I also knew that she'd trained her hearing well enough to tell if I was talking through cloth or not; thus, the mask.

"Are you aware of the Sleeper situation?" Her tone was clipped but deferential. "If you're already dealing with it, I'll leave you to it."

A lightning-swift survey of my threatscape showed no indication of Sleeper aggressing on me or the people I saw as being important. "Assume I'm not. Brief me."

"He's on the move from eastern Russia, heading for Alaska. Our best analysis of the situation is that he's bound for the White Rock portal."

"Earth Shin," I filled in, to show I knew what she was talking about.

"Precisely. As you're probably aware, trade is beginning to take place through the portal, under careful scrutiny from both sides. But if he gets there, he'll just blow through all the safeguards and step on through. They don't have anything capable of stopping him on that side, and they'll kill themselves trying."

"And as far as they'll be aware, it'll have been an unprovoked attack from our side," I concluded.

"Yes. Also, the death toll in Shin itself will be unprecedented, outstripping even the worst excesses of Goddess' reign." She didn't try to appeal to my better side, probably because she was aware that as far as she was concerned, it didn't exist. It was blunt facts, all the way down the line.

"Understood. Thanks for filling me in." I hung up the phone and pulled off my mask as I stood there, thinking about what I'd just learned.

While Sleeper invading Earth Shin wasn't going to have any specific effect on the ongoing improvements to Brockton Bay, there were extraneous details I had to consider.

Earth Bet, as Costa-Brown had reminded me, was now officially trading with Shin. The more ongoing trade we had with them, the more prosperity there would be on both sides. Over and above that, I'd personally told the people of Shin that they had nothing more to fear from Bet, and that they were free to remake their society from the dictatorship of Goddess into something more democratic and manageable.

If Sleeper burst through the portal, he'd fuck that whole process up with slightly less delicacy and tact than a red-hot poker being forcibly jammed where the sun didn't shine, thus (among other things) making me into a liar. My brand, as far as the natives of Shin were concerned, would be well and truly tarnished.

That shit was not going to fly.

"Welp," I said, heading back into the living room. "That's my weekend shot all to hell."

"Why?" asked Cherie, looking up from where she'd been pretending to read her book. "What's going on?"

I huffed a sigh of irritation. "Sleeper's being a dick, so guess who's got to do something about him?"

"Well, shit."

"Yup."



End of Part Eighty-Six

A Darker Path

Part Eighty-Seven: Back in the Saddle Again

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



Sunday Afternoon

Cherie

"The problem with Ending Sleeper isn't the physical act of killing him," Taylor explained as she donned what Cherie privately thought of as her 'working clothes'. Costumes tended to be flashy and occasionally impractical; the Atropos outfit was dramatic without being flashy, and it was totally practical. "He can totally die, and Ending's given me four or five ways to make that happen."

Which was four or five more ways than Cherie had figured out so far. "Okay, so if you can gank his sorry ass, where's the problem?"

Taylor grinned as she knotted the tie with finger movements so rapid it put Cherie in mind of a stage magician practicing sleight of hand. "I bet you never would've thought of using that phrasing about him before you met me."

Cherie blinked. Taylor had been totally on point with that observation. "Haha, no, not a chance." Insofar as she'd ever even thought about Sleeper, she'd just been glad that he was all the way over in Russia. At the time, he'd belonged to the category of cape labelled 'nope'. As far as she was concerned, he still did.

"Didn't think so. But to answer your question, killing him's the easy part. The hard part is delivering the warning. Just like everyone else, he gets twenty-four hours. The trouble is, he's not on PHO, or any social media, or even anywhere he can get email or text messages. So I can't deliver a private warning, or even a public one, via the internet." With the tie done up and tucked into her vest, Taylor shrugged into the long-coat. "I'm going to have to do it the way process servers do it: from my hand to his. Though I'll forego the signed receipt, just this once."

"Wait, wait, hold on a second." Cherie stood up from where she'd been sitting on the bed and made a 'time-out' gesture with her hands. "Last I heard, Sleeper's an S-class threat. I don't even know what the fuck his powers are, except that people just don't go up against him. The Endbringers didn't get that level of respect, when they were still around. I guess what I'm asking is, why does he rate a warning?"

"Because that's how I've said I'm going to do it from now on, so that's how I do it." With the mask in her hand, Taylor gave Cherie a serious look. "People thought giving Ellisburg and Eagleton their warnings was a fool's errand. Nilbog didn't surrender, but we got two hundred plus loyal citizens out of Eagleton. Pastor surrendered after a warning, and the capes in Gary and Gallup walked out without a fight. If they can listen to reason, then so can Sleeper, so he gets a warning."

"Okay, so if you know four or five ways of killing him, why's just delivering the warning, even by hand, such a problem?" Cherie spread her hands. "I've seen you fight. Hell, the first time we met, you kicked the shit out of me. Nobody and nothing can lay a hand on you if you don't feel like it."

"It's a problem because his powerset is seriously bullshit." Pulling out her computer chair, Taylor sat down and grabbed a notepad. As Cherie raised a finger, she added, "And before you say what you're thinking: yes, this is from the point of view of being me."

Grumpy at having her line defused, Cherie sat back down. "Okay, what are his powers, and how are they so bullshit that they even give you problems?"

Taylor took up a pen and started writing, then turned her head to face Cherie while the pen kept moving across the page. "First off, they're wide-ranging. We're talking a radius of several miles. Second, they involve effects that alter the body directly, alter the laws of physics in ways that can be made permanent, or affect you through your mind. Specifically, if you happen to have powers that let you keep your body intact and ignore alterations of physics, his power gets in through your mind and negates your other protections so you're vulnerable to him anyway."

Thinking this over, Cherie frowned. "So, what's the point of having a power like that? You told me once that powers want conflict so they can process the data. If he's so powerful that everyone he faces either dies instantly or runs away, where's the conflict? Where's the data?"

Taylor finished writing and put the pen down. Turning the chair around, she leaned back in it and crossed one immaculately booted ankle over the other. "Ending says some powers are set up for others to bounce off. Ash Beast, Nilbog, Sleeper and so forth. They're not there to gather data, but to cause conflict wherever they go. Kind of like the Endbringers, but passive rather than active, and too much trouble to actually gang up on and kill." She grinned. "Usually, anyway."

"Well, yeah." Cherie grinned back. As Atropos, Taylor had been remarkably effective at dealing with previously insurmountable problems like Nilbog and the Endbringers. "So, you think he'll play ball, or are you going to have to kill him anyway?"

When Taylor wrinkled her nose, Cherie had her answer. "Ending isn't saying how it's gonna play out, one way or the other."

Cherie nodded to show she understood. "Okay. So, what kind of pun on 'sleep' were you thinking of using to End him if he doesn't stand down?"

"There's a lot of options to choose from," Taylor admitted. "Sleeper hold, overdosing on sleeping pills, beating him to death with a club marked SLEEP, and so on and so forth. But Ending and I have been working on another idea. It doesn't exactly involve a pun, but it's ironic as fuck anyway."

"Irony is better than puns, sure." Cherie sat forward expectantly. "Hit me."

Taylor's grin was so sharp-edged that the average ravenous school of piranha would've backed away nervously. "Well, I'm going to have to talk to Riley, but I'm fairly sure she'll be okay with it …"


Brockton Bay Betterment Committee Offices

Faultline

As the elevator doors opened, Melanie stepped out into the corridor and turned to the right. "Down this way. Chairman's office."

"Is it just me," asked Newter, "or does anyone else find it weird that we get to be interviewed by the head honcho of the whole show? I mean, wouldn't he be busy?"

Gregor shrugged massively. For the occasion, he was wearing an ironed shirt and a tie. "He doesn't seem to think he's too busy to talk to us."

"What do you know of him, Melanie?" asked Elle. "From what I recall, you had your finger on the pulse all the time."

"Hebert?" Melanie frowned. "He had serious influence in the Dockworkers, and they never had any corruption scandals that I heard of." That could just mean that he was gifted at concealing such misdeeds, she knew, but she strongly suspected Atropos wouldn't have permitted a grifter into the top spot of the committee tasked with disbursing her bounty funds.

They paused before the dread portal, then Melanie steeled herself and rapped on the door: one, two-three. It wasn't like her to be nervous about meeting a non-cape about a job, but this was a guy who almost certainly had Atropos' ear, and who routinely handled sums that made her Crew's takings at the top of their game look like chicken feed. She considered herself incorruptible; Hebert, from all indications, lived it.

"Come in," she heard from inside, and she opened the door. Within was a desk with four chairs set out before it: behind the desk, a mild-featured bespectacled man, tall and skinny, just rising to his feet. "Good afternoon," he said. "I'm Danny Hebert."

"Thank you for seeing us." Melanie entered the office, the others trooping after her. "I'm Melanie Fitts, but I assume you knew that already."

"I did, yes." He stepped around the desk and offered his hand. Interestingly enough, he was wearing a glove on that hand only. "Pleased to meet you. Feel free to sit."

"Thank you," she replied, shaking his hand then taking one of the two chairs in the middle. Elle shook his hand and sat next to her, then Gregor and Newter shook it as well, then sat flanking them. "If you don't mind me asking, you're surely a busy man. Why do we get your personal attention?"

"And what if we'd come to kill you instead of join up?" added Newter before she could stop him. "I mean, you just invited us into your office."

Melanie froze, mentally promising the worst punishment detail she could think of for Newter if he'd just queered the whole deal for them. The glare she gave him must have made some sort of impression, because he shrank back into his seat. When she looked back at Hebert, he was sitting down without even a flinch, for which she gave him major props.

"To answer Newter's question first: if you'd come to kill me, Atropos would be meeting you in this office, not me." He smiled thinly as he peeled the glove off with care. "She has a sixth sense about things like that. And as for your query, Ms Fitts, I've got more experience with capes than the vast majority of our personnel. You've got more to offer the Committee in terms of sheer capability, so I prefer to meet you personally and see where you'd fit in rather than rely on dry reports."

This cut a little too closely to things Melanie had heard from prior employers, and she felt duty-bound to speak up. "I trust you understand, Mr Hebert, that we are more than just our powers."

"Oh, I'm aware. You, for instance, have a stellar track record for taking people from disparate backgrounds and bringing out the best in them. As such, I'll be giving you a probationary period as a leading hand. If you prove yourself there, you'll be stepping up into the next available foreman slot. Newter, per Atropos' recommendation, I'd like you to work with the on-site medical teams if and when needed. The training you've already taken in advanced first aid would be useful if you accepted that position. Gregor, you'll be eligible for special safety officer pay if you want it: firefighting duties, wound mitigation and so forth."

Silence fell in the office, as he sat with his hands lightly clasped over a manila envelope. Melanie was more than a little stunned; she'd been fully expecting to be relegated to the position of grunt, where she'd have to fight and shove for what she wanted. To be recognised from the outset for what she could do, and be given the chance to show it, was far more than she'd dared hope for.

"And what about me?" asked Elle. "I mean, I know I'm not a cape anymore, but I guess I can still drive a machine or something."

"You could," Hebert agreed. "However, I've been informed by Atropos that your powers have left you with a particular aptitude toward visualising things in three dimensions. If you're interested, we can second you to the reconstruction division, while paying for you to attend a college course for urban planning."

"Wait—paying for?" blurted Newter. "You'd pay for her college course?" To his credit, he sounded incredulous, not jealous.

"Well, yes." Hebert opened the manila envelope. "There are funds in the budget for educational purposes such as this. The last thing we want to do is pay you, then take your money away from you again so that you're struggling to make ends meet while trying to become more effective in your job. That's self-defeating. And talking about money …" Tilting the envelope, he allowed four smaller envelopes to fall out onto the desk. "These would be yours."

Melanie saw the faces and names printed on the smaller envelopes as Hebert stood up and leaned forward to pass them over to her. She accepted them, and passed them out, then opened hers to find a card with her name embossed on it. "Hold on a second. Are these …" She'd heard about the stimulus cards from the contacts she still maintained in Brockton Bay. What she hadn't expected was to have one handed to her.

"Yes, they are. You'll be prompted for a PIN on the first use. Your pay will go into the account as well. And yes, your associates are in the system as of today."

Gregor shook his head in apparent disbelief. "You are banking a lot on us accepting your terms. Is all this contingent on us working for you?"

"Only the college course," Hebert said imperturbably. "The stimulus cards are yours no matter what. If you have any queries or second-guesses about working for the Committee, I'm here to address them."

Newter looked at Melanie and Gregor and Elle, then huffed a sigh. "Okay, I'll say it. Me and Gregor are kinda funny-looking. How are people going to take that?"

"Hmm." Hebert frowned theatrically. "You raise a good point. Let me get a second opinion." He pressed a button on his intercom. "Winston, can you come to my office, please? I'd like to ask you something."

"Yes, Mr Hebert."

Melanie had no idea what was going on at that point, save for a vague suspicion that Hebert was pulling some kind of stunt. What it was, she couldn't imagine, but he seemed content to simply sit there at his desk until Winston arrived. With glances to either side, she communicated to her Crew that it would be best to wait and see what was going on.

Moments later, the office door opened. Melanie half-turned her head to glance at the newcomer, then did a double-take that nearly sprained her neck when a gleaming metal humanoid figure entered the room and moved past them to stand beside the desk.

It had two legs, two arms, and something that passed for a head, on which groups of red and green LEDs seemed to indicate its left and right eyes. In no other way did it look remotely human. There was also a nametag, apparently magnetically attached to the front of its torso, which read, 'Hi, I'm W1NST0N. How can I help you today?'

"Everyone, this is Winston," Hebert said breezily. "Winston, these are our newest potential recruits. Can you see any problem with them working for us?"

"Hmmm." The robot calling itself W1nst0n tilted its head, its LED-eyes altering their pattern of illumination so that they seemed to narrow thoughtfully. Its voice was metallic, though there were still tonal variations. "The orange guy might need protection for his tail, and we might not have many high-vis vests in the big guy's size. Need to check on that one. Can't see any other problems."

"Thank you, Winston. That's all I needed."

"Not a problem, boss." The metallic humanoid nodded to Melanie and the others. "Welcome to the Committee. Best damn job I ever had." Then it turned and exited the office, as smoothly as it had come.

Melanie blinked as the door clicked shut behind it. "That … that was an Eagleton. I'd heard about them, but …" But being in the same room as one was far different to just seeing pictures.

Hebert nodded, as though he'd read her thoughts clear out of her head. "We already have a significant cape contingent, as well as Winston and the other Eagletons. Nobody is going to treat you differently just because you have a different skin colour or body plan. That shit, excuse my French, left town with the Empire Eighty-Eight. On the jobsite, you'll be just another Committee worker."

That was as good an answer as Melanie figured they'd get. "I see. So, what are the working conditions like? Sick leave, time off, et cetera?"

Hebert smiled. "I thought you'd never ask." Opening a desk drawer, he pulled out four forms. "Read them over. I believe you will find the working conditions to be adequate."

As she accepted them and handed them out, Melanie belatedly recalled that Hebert had also been the union rep for the Dockworkers' Association.

'Adequate', she suspected, would be an understatement.


Sleeper

I rest.

It is easy to rest. Rest is sleep. Sleep is stillness. Stillness is no noise.

No noise is best. Except own noise. Sometimes I speak, just to hear own voice.

No other voices. They do not exist. Just own voice.

Bubble is not trap. Bubble is restful. Sometimes head hurts and bright light stings eyes. No bright lights in bubble. I tell myself bubble is whole world. There is nothing outside bubble. Just me, inside.

Sometimes I remember why head hurts, and sometimes I do not. Fragments in brain, play tunes like dead fingers on broken piano.

Rest is broken by noise from outside-that-should-not-be. Before I shut noise away, voices that do not exist say two words.

I try to rest. Brain twitches. I forget disturbance, words.

I sleep.

I drift. I have forgotten noise. I have forgotten that there were words. It never happened. How could it? The entire world is here inside bubble with me. There is nothing outside but ghosts.

A long dream later, I wake. I want to hear voice, so I find book. I have read it, but dead fingers have played over the memory of the story, so I begin reading out loud to myself.

Halfway through the book, my brain twitches. Vision doubles, I see fragments of the ghost world outside. Pain spikes head like just before I got powers, when I was shot.

Outside of head is healed. Inside will never be.

I remember words. Two words. I say words in my voice, so they will become my words. "Simurgh. Dead."

Simurgh. Dead.

I know Simurgh.

I know dead.

Simurgh was in world I knew before powers, before bubble. Powerful, dangerous.

Many times, Simurgh attack, kill. Others, in time before bubble, attack Simurgh. Always lives.

Now dead.

Simurgh dead.

I think on that until brain twitches and I forget.

I read book, speaking words carefully. Story is good. It speaks of world that is not. Many strange words about many strange things.

I have almost finished book when brain twitches again. Words come back to me. Simurgh dead.

I know bubble is prison, is trap. I know is because I kill, like Simurgh.

In the ghost world outside bubble, Simurgh is dead.

Simurgh was killed.

Are others dead? Endbringers dead?

Are ghost worlders killing things like Simurgh?

Like me?

Am I next?

I wake up, more than before. I have been good. I have not burst bubble.

I remember, shot in head, falling. Bullet fragments in brain. Lying on icy pavement. Thoughts leaking from hole in head. Powers coming in to plug gap.

Will ghost worlders come, to shoot me in head? Make me dead?

I do not want that.

Power does twisty thing to space, but cannot hide me. Still in bubble. Still in prison. Still in trap.

Far away, I hear/smell/see it. Powers tell me. Hole. Escape from ghost world. Another world, all mine.

Must leave bubble. Must go into ghost world.

I do not want to.

I want to rest.

To sleep.

But I cannot.

So I flex powers, just a little. Push against bubble. Stretch against trap.

Alarms loud, noisy, make head hurt.

I stretch powers more, shut off alarms.

Bubble breaks.

I am no longer only thing in world.

Bigger world now, and I am very small in it.

I become power and move toward hole.

Very far away. Cannot move fast. Still better than walking.

Moving this way tires me.

Will need rest.

Bright light of outside hurts eyes.

Noises hurt head.

Must go on.

Not safe.

Nowhere is safe until I reach hole.

I go on.


Aisha

"Hey, bro?"

"Yeah, Aish?"

"This math thing, how's it go again?"

"Let me have a look." Brian left the saucepan he'd been stirring and came into the dining area where Aisha was working out some problems from her math book. When he saw what she was doing, he frowned slightly. "I thought you had your homework done."

"I did. I do. I'm just looking ahead a bit, to make sure I know the new stuff before they show us how to do it." The way she saw it, getting a leg-up on the opposition was always a good idea.

"Huh." He patted her on the shoulder. "That's really forward-thinking of you. I'm proud of you."

"Yeah, well, now I actually know how to do this shit, might as well get good at it." She tried not to show the warmth she felt in her chest at his praise. He and Riley were the only close family she had—she just couldn't connect with her dad, and Celia wasn't even remotely her mother—and getting his approval like that meant more to her than she'd expected it would. "So, how's this bit work? How do they get that answer?"

"One sec. Hey, Riley?"

"Yeah?" called their youngest sibling from the bedroom.

"If you're not busy, could you check the saucepan and give it a stir, please?"

"I'll be right there." And she would be. Riley was dependable like that.

"Okay," Brian said. "Let's see what we've got here." He focused on the book, then nodded and tapped the page with his finger. "See that? That number carries there, then adds to that."

That little click behind her eyes when the light came on and she understood something for the first time would never get old for her. "Right, so if I do this …" She scribbled some numbers, then ran it through the process he'd described. "It should come out like this?"

"Yup, that looks about right." He squeezed her shoulder. "You're getting good at this."

"Damn right I am." She felt that glow of pride again. This was something she could get used to.

In the kitchen, Riley's phone chirped. A moment later, she leaned around the dividing pillar. "Uh, Brian, when you've got a moment?"

"Aisha?" he asked.

"Go. I got this." Aisha reapplied herself to the problem. Okay, so if I take that, and do this, it should turn out like … hah! Gotcha, you slippery little bastard!

"So, what's up?" she heard Brian asking.

"Atropos just texted me," Riley replied, and with that Aisha decided she had better things to think about than math.

"Ookay." Brian didn't sound totally enthusiastic, but he was only a little bit wary. "What did she want?"

"To talk to me about making a new thing for her."

Brian sighed, then nodded. "Alright, let her know it's fine. Let's see what she wants."

Aisha figured that she knew Atropos better than most, so the very moment Brian said that, she started looking around. The smoky doorway appeared right on cue and Atropos stepped out of it, just out of Brian's line of sight. As Aisha's grin broadened, Atropos lifted one finger in front of where her lips would be. She hadn't needed to; there was no way Aisha was going to miss this.

Waiting until Brian turned his head slightly, Atropos stepped up behind him. "Hi."

"Jeez!" yelped Brian, jumping about three feet sideways. "Do you have to do that?"

Atropos gestured to where Aisha was in danger of falling off her chair, and Riley was suffering a fit of the giggles. "According to them, yes." Then she cleared her throat. "Thanks for saying yes. I do appreciate it."

By the time Atropos and Riley came back into the living room, Aisha had more or less recovered from her laughter. She got up and went over to give Atropos a hug, which was returned with interest. "Hey," she said. "Good to see you again."

"Great to see you too." Atropos let her go and ruffled her hair. "I hope you've been behaving?"

"Well, mostly." Aisha didn't want to get a rep for being a goody two-shoes, after all.

The front door clicked open, and Riley looked around. "Theo's home!" By the time the door opened all the way, Riley had made it across the living room to give him a hug.

"Oof," he said, good-naturedly. "Hi, Riley." Then he looked up and clearly saw Atropos for the first time. "Oh, um, were you waiting for me?"

"No, just here to see Riley, but how are you doing anyway?"

Theo chuckled. "Pretty good, actually. It's amazing how useful some weapons can be on a demolition site. They really put me through my paces, though. I hurt in places I didn't know I could hurt." Despite his worn-down appearance, he seemed fairly upbeat.

"Good to hear," she said warmly. "So, Riley. Got another favour to ask."

Riley nodded. "Totally."

"Ah … you haven't even heard it yet." Atropos patted the air between them. "You might not want to, and that'll be fine if you don't."

"Fair enough. Tell me what it is."

So Atropos started talking.



End of Part Eighty-Seven