A Darker Path [Worm Fanfic]

[Ack]

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

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Eighty-Eight: Special Delivery

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

■

​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Panacea
From: Atropos
Subject: Gonna need you in about half an hour

Could you please be alone in your bedroom in about half an hour? Bring the leg of ham that's going to get delivered to your front door in five minutes. You'll need it for biomass.

■
​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Atropos
From: Panacea
Subject: Re: Gonna need you in about half an hour

What? Why? Who have you hurt?

■
​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Panacea
From: Atropos
Subject: Re: Re: Gonna need you in about half an hour

Nobody. You'll see. Also, prep for a mess.

■

<><>​

Monday Afternoon, March 14 2011
New York PRT Building,

Shebang

Alice stood on the roof of the building alongside Director Piggot. Accompanying them was a Trooper Ballinger, whose main reason for being there was apparently the fact that he was over six feet tall and built like the proverbial brick outhouse. Alice had a lot of equipment to take along with her, and it seemed he'd been tapped as her pack-horse for the time being.

She didn't actually have a problem with this. One of the downsides of being a Tinker, as far as she could figure, was the sheer amount of equipment she had to lug around with her if she was trying to analyse and defuse esoteric energies. With regards to Clockblocker (she still had trouble believing it wasn't the name of some joke character on a cartoon show), he'd been able to come to her, but this wasn't possible for the next stage of the project, so she and her equipment had to leave the lab. Thus, Ballinger.

One of the hidden advantages of being in the Protectorate, she was discovering, was the number of minions (read: PRT troopers) available to fetch and carry for them, if necessary. Trooper Ballinger didn't seem to have a problem with it either, especially since all indications were that the job would not involve going up against hostile capes. Alice certainly didn't intend to go into harm's way any time soon, at least until she had a better handle on her capabilities.

The helicopter coming in from the north slowed as it neared the building, then flared preparatory to landing. It didn't look big enough to comfortably carry Alice and her luggage as well as the Director and Ballinger, but appearances had been known to be deceiving. Though why the Director might have called in a chopper from out of town, Alice wasn't sure.

Its wheels touched down, then it sank onto its suspension as the engines began to spool down and the rotors slowed. The side door popped open and a red-clad cape stepped out, followed by a familiar teenage figure. After Clockblocker came a tall black man in a stylised martial-arts outfit, then finally a kid in a pastel-hued pseudo-military costume, complete with scaled-down military-style helmet. Alice frowned; she wasn't sure who she'd been expecting, but it wasn't this.

"Director Piggot," the cape in red said with a broad grin. "Good to see you again. How's life treating you in the Big Apple?"

"I'm getting by, Assault, thank you very much." Piggot even gave the man a brief smile as she replied. "Tenebrae, Miss Medic, this is Shebang. Shebang: Assault, Tenebrae, Miss Medic."

"Hi!" gushed the girl who had to be Miss Medic. "You're gonna be turning off Grey Boy loops? That's so cool!"

"Well, we're going to be working at it," Alice corrected her, though the enthusiasm was infectious. "Don't know if we'll make it on the first try." She turned her head and addressed Director Piggot. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand. What exactly is going on here? I thought this was only a test run."

"It is." Director Piggot seemed unfazed by her query. "Assault is the Protectorate volunteer to escort the Wards on this mission. Tenebrae is Miss Medic's caregiver; it's in her Wards contract that he escorts her on any missions like this. Clockblocker is along in case you manage to actually free the subject today; his job will be to freeze the freed subject so Miss Medic can get a good look at them and diagnose what needs to be fixed. Miss Medic is along to save anyone whose life needs saving."

"Oh, so that's what I'm here for," Clockblocker said in tones of enlightenment. "I got told I was needed again, and I was like 'didn't she already figure out how to break my power?'."

Alice ignored the interjection. "But what if I don't bust the loop this time? They'll have come all this way for nothing." And I'll look like an idiot in front of them, she didn't quite say out loud.

"Not for nothing." Assault raised his finger. "When you're designing new and exciting ways to blow up the scenery, you've got fire extinguishers and stuff standing by, right? Just in case?"

"Usually, yeah," she admitted. "But what … oh." Belatedly, she realised what he was getting at.

"Yeah. 'Oh.'" He clicked his tongue as he 'fired' dual finger-guns at her. "Better to have the people on hand and not need them than not have them and need them. Besides, getting the Wards out and about every now and again gives them a sense of purpose and reduces disciplinary problems." From the flat, uninflected tone he put on, Alice got the impression that he was either quoting or paraphrasing from a manual of regulations.

"Not that Miss Medic has any ongoing disciplinary issues," Tenebrae noted.

Assault nodded. "You're not wrong there. Kid's about as buttoned-down as you can get."

"I'm glad to hear it." Gathering the capes in by eye, Director Piggot herded them toward the second helipad, while Trooper Ballinger followed along behind with the cases full of Alice's equipment. "Strider will be arriving shortly, to convey you to the Grey Boy victim we believe will be the best test case for Shebang's attentions. I won't be coming along, so Assault will be in command of this mission. I look forward to your after-action reports."

"And that's … it?" Alice flinched as the flat crack heralded the appearance of the teleporter on the helipad. "We're just going to go and do it?"

"Would you prefer six months of paperwork back and forth before we decided to go ahead?" Piggot's tone was both rhetorical and sarcastic. "Go. Shoo. Make me proud."

<><>​

Atropos

Cherie watched as I pulled on a protective nitrile glove, then put one of my spare set of Atropos gloves on over the top of them. "That's a level of protection you don't normally take, even when you're handling the stuff Riley made to kill powers with," she observed. "Should I be worried?"

"Not particularly." I flexed my fingers inside the double layered glove and decided it would do. "This latest concoction I got her to throw together is nastier than the other stuff, and I'll have exactly zero room for error. My power says I need the glove."

"Nastier?" Cherie didn't sound thrilled to hear that. "How the hell is it worse than the other stuff?"

"Because it doesn't kill your powers." I grinned at her look of incomprehension. "Tell you later."

Leaving the shears and the pistol on the sofa—I wasn't going to need them—I set up the next few jumps. They were going to take pinpoint timing, but that was fine; my power was good at pinpoint timing. The not so fine aspect was what I was about to put myself through.

The things I do to maintain my brand.

Finally, I pulled on my mask and put the hat on at a jaunty angle. I knew damn well Cherie could read what bits and pieces of emotion I let slip through, but I wasn't giving her enough to realise what I was about to do.

Touching two fingers to the brim of my hat, I stepped backward into the smoky doorway as it formed behind me. The living room vanished, replaced by a scrubby hillside overlooking farmland. Abandoned farmland no doubt, entirely due to the imminent arrival of Sleeper, but farmland all the same.

It was colder than Brockton Bay here, more so than could be accounted for by the fact that it was four or five degrees farther north. A chilly wind swept across the hillside, blowing my long-coat dramatically sideways as I looked westward toward the oncoming storm generated by Sleeper. It was hard to focus on, mainly because part of the visual effect was generated within the optic nerve without first going through the retina, which was just one of the little tricks his power liked to inflict on the world.

Right then, the ongoing violation of space-time manifesting in our limited three-dimensional perception as a 'storm' was five miles across, and he had no physical body inside it. It was his fastest mode of movement, maybe two hundred miles per hour, but it also tired him. It wasn't long before he'd have to let his real body regain its form, and he'd stop to rest.

This would be my cue to go say hi.

In the meantime, I had a note to treat with Riley's newest concoction. I couldn't just put the stuff on it that killed powers … well, I could, but his powers were literally keeping him alive. Without them to keep his bullet-lacerated brainmeats in a (mostly) workable state, he would go into seizures within a few seconds, be in a coma in twenty, and be dead in five minutes.

I'd thought about bringing in Riley or Amy to fix his brain injury, but neither one was an option if he had to be forcibly depowered first. Amy was still emotionally fragile; fixing a brain injury was one thing, but doing it for a mass murderer whose vital signs were crashing hard at the same time might be a bit much for her. While Riley would likely be willing to take it on, the window of opportunity was too narrow. By the time she got to where she could start fixing stuff, a lot of what was him would be irretrievably gone.

It was true that killing Sleeper (accidentally or otherwise) would absolutely cement my rep as Can Actually Kill Anything (Yes, Really; Watch Me), but I didn't want to End him without actually giving him a chance to turn things around first. The act of killing still didn't bother me; I was just as pragmatic about it as I had been since getting my powers. However, Dragon had made a good point about not only being reliable, but having the appearance of reliability.

There were quite a few national powers currently observing Sleeper's progress, most of whom had spotted me already. If I just went in there and ganked him (in Cherie's inimitable phrasing) while they were watching, it would be a data point for them, but in the wrong direction.

It wouldn't matter that Sleeper was someone they all wanted dead anyway. If I was seen apparently violating my self-imposed strictures, someone would inevitably take it as evidence that I'd been paid a bounty under the table to do it, and the understanding I'd carefully crafted with the international community would take a huge step backward.

Very shortly afterward, I'd get a diplomatically worded offer of a few hundred million to arrange the End of someone like Moord Nag. The money might vary; so, too, might the target. But they'd start with large amounts, pointing me at people who were very much a negative influence on society. Bit by bit, the amounts would decrease, ramping up only when they wanted me to kill someone who wasn't all that bad, but who was a hindrance to their plans.

Well, this was the meat of at least one proposal that had been laid out by a governmental body based less than five hundred miles from Brockton Bay. Human nature being what it was, there were others of a similar nature being fostered farther afield. Yeah, good luck with that. I couldn't force people to stop being assholes, but I could absolutely refuse to fall in line with their designs for me.

So long as they indulged in no more than wishful thinking, I was happy to let them waste their time and effort trying to figure out how to move the first step out of the planning stage. The moment any of them tried to actually do something about it, I would be paying them a visit and bringing my good friend Mr Pump Action Shotgun along to air his opinions about Kneecaps and Privileges.

But it wasn't going to happen today, or any day soon. Sleeper was going to survive the next twenty-four hours, because the concoction I was applying to the note wouldn't take effect until then, if at all.

Of course, me just delivering the note and surviving would also add to my ongoing legend, so there was that.

It was still going to suck, though.

The eye-twisting storm slowed its onward advance when its leading edge was barely five yards from me, as my power had calculated. I finished brushing the liquid onto the note, then put the cap back on the container and folded my hand around the note. This was why I had needed the extra glove; my regular one wouldn't protect my hand well enough, and I had to maintain a hold on it for reasons which would soon become evident.

I moved toward the edge of the storm with measured steps; between one step and the next, the first teleport kicked in. As it did so, I let myself fall forward, appearing in a rocky niche with the storm swirling and raging just outside. My coat lost a chunk out of one corner as the twisting matter alteration caught it, but that was okay; it wasn't the one I usually wore.

Pressing into the niche, I watched as the distorted air followed me in. Sleeper wasn't fully aware of everything that happened within his sphere of influence, but the 'brain' aspect of his powers knew I was there. God only knew how he would've been if he were fully compos mentis, but for the most part it acted like a massive immune system, locating and either destroying or neutralising any potential threat from the outside.

This was why the note was clenched tightly in my fist rather than in my pocket. To put it brutally, my pockets just weren't going to survive. As part of my sleeve fizzed and sparkled, I was fully aware that anything I wasn't personally hanging on to was likely to suffer an inevitable end. This was already too close for comfort, and it was only going to get worse.

At the ten-second mark, the teleporter kicked in again, depositing me in a barn which was in the process of being enthusiastically demolished by the reality storm. I grabbed an already-teetering stack of hay bales and pulled them over on top of me; they were heavy, but not so much that it was a chore to keep breathing. My mask managed to filter out the worst of the heavy dust swirling around in my tiny refuge, which was good, because I needed to get a nice deep breath of air.

I could feel the mental aspect of Sleeper's power zeroing in on me again, and the gradual lightening of the hay-bale burden above me. The hay didn't make for a very sturdy barrier, but it was bulky, so it lasted exactly long enough. I felt my left boot-heel go just as the teleporter pulled me out of there once more. A spark of pain told me that I'd lost part of my actual heel at the same time.

The rear part of my hat-brim, the back of my long-coat, and some of the skin off my back, flashed to nothingness as I appeared inches above the surface of a stream. I fell, and was submerged, before anything more could happen; the water was absoutely freezing, numbing the open wound on my back. Above all, I kept my fist clenched around that damn note.

Above me, Sleeper's power lashed at the water itself, exploding great swathes of it into steam; fortunately, I was being swept downstream before it could get to me. It felt as though icy daggers were slashing at the intact parts of my skin, but it was only the cold, not more of his power. Not yet, anyway. I drew my knees up to my chest just as another part of my long-coat was caught and evaporated; before the rest of me could be likewise shredded, I teleported.

The next refuge my power found me was a hollowed out cut-bank, possibly the lair of an animal that had fled before the advent of Sleeper's power scouring the land. It lasted me the ten seconds, though I lost two fingers off my left hand, and some of the wrist. I was committed now; there was only one way out, and it wasn't the way I'd come in by.

Jump by jump, skip by skip, losing a chunk of my forearm muscle here and three toes there, I made my way through the maelstrom toward Sleeper. It was impossible for my power to find me a refuge that didn't brush me up against his ravening ability, but it was able to keep me alive and moving, so that was the best I could get.

Pain lashed through me from my mounting catalogue of injuries. If it weren't for my power, I wouldn't have been able to go on, but I was determined to get the note to Sleeper, no matter what it took. That was my sole focus.

Finally, I ended up at the small farmhouse he'd decided was a good place to rest. Sitting at the table, reading aloud to himself from a remarkably tattered and dog-eared book, he looked up in surprise as I appeared before him, bloody and wounded, with tatters of my costume hanging off me. My left leg wasn't working so good since most of the calf muscle had been torn away, but I was standing on it anyway. "Hi," I gritted in what I guessed was fluent Russian, as I slapped the slightly worse-for-wear folded note onto the pages in front of him with my one good hand. "You've just been served."

Before he could muster his powers to obliterate me from existence, the teleporter generated its smoky doorway behind me, and I lurched backward through it. It was so close that I'd had to time the portal to shut off before I was all the way through. In doing so, it took my right arm clear off just below the shoulder, and my right leg at the knee. Given that the alternative was to have his power billow through and destroy everything within three city blocks, I figured I got off lightly.

But my power could only keep me upright and moving for so long, and I was rapidly running out of gas. This was why my last teleport sent me to the best place I could go for help.

As I toppled toward the carefully-placed plastic sheet—good thinking, Amy, way to go—I saw not one but two shocked expressions looking my way.

Oh, boy.

<><>​

Panacea

Half an hour had been just enough time for Amy to accept the leg of ham from the delivery guy and sneak it upstairs to her room, then grab the spare shower curtain from the storage closet and spread it over her carpet. If Atropos wanted her to prep for a mess, then she was absolutely going to prep for a mess. As the last five minutes ticked down, she was still trying to figure out what was going on, with little success.

And then Vicky opened her door and leaned in. "Hey, Ames, I was … uh, why do you have a leg of ham on your bed? And why is there a shower curtain on your floor?"

"Sh-sh-sh-sh!" Amy hissed urgently. "Come in! Shut the door!" Vicky, she could trust to keep a secret. Everyone else was likely to either ask awkward questions like 'why did you just do what she said?' and 'why didn't you come tell us?' or just yell at her.

Obediently, Vicky entered the room and closed the door carefully behind her. "I'm going to assume this isn't a Parian thing," she said, hitching one eyebrow slightly. "So, my second guess is … Atropos."

"Yeah." Amy nodded jerkily, keeping a watch on the plastic out of the corner of her eye. "She messaged me half an hour ago, asked me to be in here with biomass. Said to prep for a mess."

"Shit." Vicky breathed the word. "Shit, shit, fuck. Did she say who was going to need it?"

Amy's throat was tight with worry. "I asked her who she'd hurt. She said nobody, and that I'd see."

"Doesn't mean she hasn't hurt someone since," Vicky pointed out pragmatically. "Do you, uh, do you do this sort of thing often? Just do something because she asked you to?"

"Not often." Amy decided to amend the statement toward the truth. "We've done it a bit. But always to do something good. Even if I didn't know it was good at the time." She found herself digging her nails into her palm.

"When did she say she'd be here?"

"Half an—oh, shit!" Amy jerked to her feet as a familiar smoky doorway appeared at the far end of the plastic shower curtain.

Atropos fell out of it, lunging her left arm outward as the portal closed behind her. When they'd gone to help out Damsel of Distress, Amy had been warned not to linger, and now she saw why. In closing, the portal had sheared off Atropos' right arm and part of her leg, and that wasn't the full extent of her injuries by a long way.

Collapsing in a way that suggested consciousness was rapidly fading, Atropos didn't quite hit the floor before Vicky was there, catching her and lowering her to the plastic. "Holy fuck, what happened to her?" Vicky asked, staring at the tattered costume, with large pieces just sheared away, along with the flesh under it.

"Slee … per," rasped Atropos. "Good t'see you too." One expressive brown eye, visible due to the fact that part of the morph mask was missing, along with a slice of her cheekbone, turned to look at her, then drifted shut as Atropos went limp.

Jesus, she went after Sleeper? Amy didn't know whether to be horrified or impressed. By now, she was on her knees next to Atropos, pulling aside shreds of cloth to get skin to skin contact. There had been no deep injuries to the torso, but more than a bit of missing flesh, and two major amputations.

Once Amy got control over her body, she was able to bring the bleeding to a halt, though the amount Atropos had already lost was worrying. To make more, she was going to need fluids. "Vicky, go to the kitchen and get me the biggest pitcher of water you can. Do not tell Mom or Dad, please." They'd either freak or do something stupid, or both.

"On it." The door opened and closed, and Vicky was gone.

It was weird, Amy mused even as she hefted the leg of ham down off the bed and started looking at where Atropos was missing bits and pieces. When Vicky had first met Atropos, she would've spat in her face rather than help her. Now, she didn't like the murderous vigilante, but she had enough respect for Atropos to help her out without even complaining.

For her part, Amy was more shaken than she was willing to admit, even to herself. She'd seen footage of Atropos strolling into insanely dangerous situations before now, and barrelling out the other side without a mark on her. This time around, she looked like she'd gone ten rounds with a combine harvester, though her attitude suggested that she'd somehow won.

Okay, priorities. Arm and leg first, then the more superficial stuff.

And once Atropos was awake again, she and Vicky would be able to interrogate her for every last detail of why she'd gone after Sleeper. Because there was surely a story there.

And after giving her a fright like this, Atropos totally owed her.

<><>​

Sleeper

I have stopped travelling. Tired.

Must rest.

Am resting, reading, when ghost person from outside appears.

I hear voice that is not my voice. Ghost person says words that are not my words.

"Привет," says ghost person. "Вам предписание."

There is paper in my hand. It is ghost person paper.

I know is ghost person because does not come in front door, just appears.

Also, disappears through doorway that is not doorway.

After ghost person vanishes, I look at paper. Is folded. Is note.

Do I read ghost person note?

I prefer to read book. Book is familiar.

Ghost person note sits on table. I want to destroy it.

But I pick it up.

It is long time since I read something that was not book.

I unfold ghost person note.

It has been wet, and scorched, but writing is big and thick. Can read.

Я АТРОПОС.

Я УБИЛА СИМУРГ.

ЕСЛИ ТЫ ПРОДОЛЖИШЬ ИДТИ К ДЫРЕ МЕЖДУ МИРАМИ, Я УБЬЮ ТЕБЯ.

Я МОГУ ТЕБЯ ОТПРАВИТЬ В ДРУГОЕ МЕСТО.

ПОДОЖДИ ЗДЕСЬ ОДИН ПОЛНЫЙ ДЕНЬ ПОДАВЛЯЯ СВОЮ СИЛУ, И Я ОТКРОЮ ДЛЯ ТЕБЯ ЕЩЕ ОДНУ ДЫРУ МЕЖДУ МИРАМИ.

ЕСЛИ ТЫ ХОЧЕШЬ, Я МОГУ ПРИВЕСТИ КОГО-ТО, КТО ВМЕСТО ЭТОГО ОТКЛЮЧИТ ТВОИ СИЛЫ И ПОЧИНИТ ТВОЙ МОЗГ.

Я ВЕРНУСЬ ЗА ТВОИМ ОТВЕТОМ ЧЕРЕЗ ОДИН ДЕНЬ.

When finished reading, I sit and think about ghost person words.

I am Atropos.

I killed the Simurgh.

If you keep going toward the hole between worlds, I will kill you.

I can send you somewhere else. Wait here one full day and suppress your powers, and I will open another hole between worlds for you.

If you want, I can bring someone to turn off your powers and fix your brain instead.

I will be back in one day for your reply.

Click to shrink...

When sun rises, still thinking.



End of Part Eighty-Eight

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Eighty-Nine: Moments of Truth

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



Glory Girl

When Vicky got to the bottom of the stairs, her parents were sitting on the sofa watching TV, though her mother was also doing something on a tablet. Carol Dallon had always been a hard-charger, maintaining a career in law at the same time as being a full-time superhero and a mother of two. Something had had to give, and Vicky suspected that motherhood had been left sucking hind tit.

The end result had been a successful superhero career, a place in a prestigious law firm, and one daughter who vaguely resented her. This was not improved by Carol's black-and-white view of the world, which Vicky had subscribed to without even thinking about it … at least, until certain events had caused her to undergo a massive reality check. That, along with other recent incidents, had shaken up her personal worldview and caused her to rethink a lot of her prior assumptions.

This was why she'd been less surprised by Amy's intention of going rogue at the first viable opportunity than she was by the fact that Amy had told Carol to her face about her plans, as well as a lot of other stuff that had been bothering her. Apparently, during the telling, their mom had polished off one of the bottles of wine Atropos had given her and made a severe dent in the second one. However, she hadn't yelled at Amy, grounded her, or done anything apart from drink and listen.

While Vicky didn't dislike her mother, even after the shakeup to her worldview, she figured Amy was at least partially justified in being unhappy with Carol. Amy wasn't Vicky, she wasn't like Vicky, she didn't think like Vicky, and she'd never really wanted to be a superhero like Vicky. As far as Vicky could tell, Carol had wanted Amy to be a good little hero (using Vicky as a role model, naturally) but to also stay in her own little box and heal people when and where she was told, without any regard for what Amy might want.

The real irony in the situation was that until Atropos had come along and kicked over the anthill that had then been the villain-rich Brockton Bay underworld (and was now more of a ghost town), Amy had also shared Carol's binary worldview. These days, she was a good deal more free-thinking in her attitudes, gleefully encouraged in such by Atropos. Vicky didn't know what role in this was played by Atropos' occasional 'borrowing' of Amy for shady purposes in dubious locations, but she figured there was at least a little cross-pollination of viewpoints going on.

But the bottom line was simple: Amy was happier these days, and not just because she had a girlfriend. (Though Vicky thought she might have to book herself an eye test, what with all the hints she'd missed about her sister's orientation). Amy was more relaxed, opening up more, and although Atropos' shenanigans still seemed to exasperate her, she'd lost the edge of simmering anger that Vicky hadn't noticed until it was gone.

The most profound change, however, was the one that Vicky had discovered within herself. As she'd said to Crystal, the lessons Atropos had taught her had convinced her to rethink her previously reckless attitude and become the 'responsible' one of the younger set. But that wasn't even the half of it.

In the first days following Atropos' debut, especially in the (admittedly narrow) window between the meeting in Westlake Park and the demise of the Slaughterhouse Nine, had Vicky encountered Atropos in any kind of vulnerable position, she wouldn't have hesitated to take full advantage of the situation. There would've been exactly zero second thoughts involved between seeing the black-clad cape and going into attack mode. But in the encounters since, each subsequent interaction had chipped away at her antagonism toward Atropos. Now, seeing the girl unconscious, bleeding and missing important body parts on Amy's bedroom floor, Vicky's only thought had been 'how can I help?'.

As she made her way nonchalantly to the kitchen, Vicky kept in mind that her mother quite likely didn't share her level of acceptance of Atropos. If she discovered what was going on, Brandish might just do something extreme. Or she might not; Vicky preferred not to find out either way.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, she found a nicely sized pitcher and took it to the sink to fill with water. She was halfway through this task when her father strolled into the kitchen. "Oh, hi, Vicky girl," he said. "I didn't know you were downstairs. What's the pitcher for?"

Her brain went blank. "Oh, uh, Ames asked me to get it."

"Really? What for?"

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. "Pot … plants. She wants to water her potted plants." Wait, wait. "Plants in pots. Not actual pot. Amy wouldn't do something like that." She forced a nervous laugh. Shut up now. Just shut up.

He frowned. "Amy has potted plants? When did that happen?"

Vicky fell back on the truth. "Well, she's got a plant pot on her windowsill. I guess she wants to grow something other than mushrooms in it."

"Mm, I suppose so." His attention shifted. "I'm just getting cookies. Did you want one?"

On the verge of saying no, Vicky changed her mind. "Sure. Two for me and two for Amy, please."

He smiled indulgently. "Okay." Taking four cookies out of the container, he handed them to her. "I remember what teenage metabolisms are like. Just don't rat me out to your mom."

"I promise. You're the best." She accepted the cookies in one hand, then turned off the faucet and hefted the now-full pitcher in the other. Waiting until her father left the kitchen, she disobeyed the general injunction against flying in the house and drifted along soundlessly behind him. It was easier, she figured as she continued up the stairs without setting foot to floor, to break a smaller rule now than deal with a bigger mess later.

When she got to Amy's room, she awkwardly turned the door handle with the hand that was holding the cookies, then nudged it open with her elbow. Amy looked up from where she was working on Atropos; the vigilante didn't look any better than she had before Vicky went downstairs, but appearances were probably deceiving.

"Oh, good," Amy said. "You brought the water."

"And cookies," Vicky added, holding them up and nudging the door shut with her heel. "Just in case."

<><>​

Shebang

While Alice had come up with the concept of a bomb that teleported people in all directions away from ground zero, she hadn't yet built it. This was partially because she hadn't had the time, and partially because she was pretty sure it would fall under the category of 'only under controlled conditions, and no using yourself as a guinea pig'. Thus, she'd never been teleported in her life.

It was a weird experience, to say the least. She found herself considering the effect in terms of how to replicate it with tech, firming up the idea she'd had for the teleport bomb. This, she suspected, was going to be a regular thing from this point forward.

Coming out the other end, she felt the immediate pain in her ears from the altitude shift, and worked her jaw to compensate. Off to the side, she could hear Miss Medic instructing Tenebrae and Clockblocker on how to do the same, which sounded ass-backward until she considered the fact that the kid was apparently the best cape surgeon on the block since Bonesaw bit it.

(Overall, Alice had mixed feelings about Atropos, but her destruction of the Slaughterhouse Nine was a thing of beauty, especially her tactical use of explosions.)

It seemed Assault and Trooper Ballinger were handling their end just fine, from the way Ballinger was looking around, and Assault was going to meet the cape who was waiting for them. "Hi," he said, holding out his hand. "Long time no see, Chevalier. How've you been?"

"Tolerably well, Assault." Chevalier, wearing silver and gold armour and carrying a weapon that looked like a cross between a sword and a gun, shook Assault's hand. "And yourself?"

<><>​

Chevalier

Assault chuckled wryly. "Well, I've been fine, and Battery is doing well, but as for the rest of it … it's been an interesting few months, as I'm sure you've heard."

"I had, yes." Michael carefully resisted the urge to ask an inane question about Atropos or her methods, in the vein of 'did she really …?', mainly because he knew she really had.

He'd watched all the footage resulting from her lethal escapades (it had been deemed required viewing, by the Chief Director herself) and had attended Canberra, albeit briefly. Her PHO thread was also analysed and disseminated whenever a new post came out, but what had made a deep and abiding impression on him was the glimpse his power had had of the cape herself.

When he focused on a parahuman, he could see glimpses and impressions of what their power was about, and hints of their capabilities and intentions. What he'd seen when he looked at her was a teenage girl with a vast, looming beast pacing alongside her, placing its feet carefully in deference to her wishes, conferring with her on what they would do next. There was a link between them; neither the leash of strict control nor the strings of a puppeteer (both of which he'd seen in the past), it was more a commonality of purpose, an agreement between equals. The only other cape he'd ever seen who was this deeply in harmony with their power was Jack Slash, and wasn't that a pleasant thought?

All the time, it had been reaching out with shadowy tentacles and nudging those around Atropos, in response to her interactions with them. The cape with her, Flechette, had those tentacles wrapped around her, but in a way that seemed protective rather than restrictive, and there were more tentacles stretching out to the horizon.

While waiting for Strider to teleport him back to Philadelphia, he'd watched as Atropos conferred with Alexandria, the tentacles nudging the Chief Director subtly as they spoke.

(He of course knew who Rebecca Costa-Brown really was. That part of his power was thoroughly classified, for good reason).

When Eidolon had returned, the conversation went on with him. Michael had not been close enough to hear what was going on, but an agreement was reached … and then Atropos did something with her shears, and the monster reached down and separated Eidolon from his powers. Michael had heard she'd done exactly the same thing to Bastard Son before she killed him, but to watch it in action was deeply unnerving, not least because she could apparently do it so casually (though having the subject survive was a bonus, at least).

Then had come the deeply frightening moment, when the creature turned its immense head to look directly at him, and raised one gigantic, clawed finger to where he supposed its lips to be. There had been the flash of teeth in what might have been a smile before it turned its attention back to what Atropos was doing, but he knew damn well it was keeping an eye on him.

Not having any particular desire to die on the spot (and having zero doubt that she was capable of it, after observing the fate of the Simurgh), he'd waited until he got home before he contacted the Chief Director. She'd sighed, then briefed him on the devil's bargain Eidolon had entered into: his powers, for the End of the other two Endbringers.

Since then, there had been no sign of another attack, or even an Endbringer moving around under the ocean or the surface of the Earth, so he hoped and prayed that the sacrifice had not been in vain. Atropos had of course continued on her merry, murderous way, though there was less of the murder these days (thus proving that if they really tried, people could learn pattern recognition).

Also, he was beginning to suspect he knew exactly what had happened to Butcher Fourteen's powers when Atropos killed her, which was just another thing that was going to keep him awake at night.

"So yeah," Assault said briskly, all unaware of the dark thoughts Michael was entertaining, "you've met Clockblocker before, but the others are new. Tenebrae and Miss Medic out of Brockton Bay, and Shebang from New York. Trooper Ballinger's been appointed to Shebang for the duration."

"I see." Michael did know Clockblocker, and was aware that he was capable of being serious when he needed to be. The name, he suspected, would follow the young man for the rest of his life. "It's good to meet you all."

He focused his power on Shebang first, finding impressions of effects that could only be deemed 'explosions' because they started from a point and expanded outward. Emily Piggot's assessment of her indicated that she may have been intending for a different kind of debut before the ex-Empire capes forced her hand; from what he could see, it was not an inaccurate summation. However, she seemed to be set on the path of being a hero now, so he left her and moved on to Tenebrae.

The young man had actually been a criminal before his recruitment into the Wards, and his power impression backed that up. A life lived in the shadows, not all of his own making, had been traded out for walking in the light, using his shadows to aid others. He also held himself like a trained fighter, which was good to see in someone who might have to engage the criminal element hand-to-hand.

Finally, there was Miss Medic. Looking even more petite than normal next to Tenebrae (apparently her cousin, and caregiver of record), she was almost unbearably cute in her pseudo-military costume and her obvious eagerness to please. But deeper down … Michael had to restrain himself from taking a step back.

Her past was soaked in blood. Instead of a static impression, with her he saw a progression of images cycling through, not unlike the Gray Boy loop they'd come here to destroy. Clawed hands, a skeletal grin, spreading death and despair wherever she went, with the shadowy figure of Jack Slash holding her puppet strings. Then the strings were severed, and very familiar talons tore her asunder; the macabre grotesquerie was discarded, allowing the child before him to walk onward, clad in angelic light, determined to help everyone.

Christ almighty. That's Bonesaw. I thought she was dead.

A memory arose in his mind, and he recalled how Atropos had shot Bonesaw in the head then taken her away, supposedly to render her multiple lethal deadman switches harmless. None other than Dragon had signed off on her reported death … but unless his power was somehow glitching out altogether on him, Miss Medic was Bonesaw, literally reskinned.

As he watched, shadowy tentacles appeared from nowhere and wrapped protectively around the girl, which gave him further pause. This, and the pure intent radiating off her, were the only reasons he didn't pull his cannonblade on the spot and blow her head off, but he still wanted to know what the fuck was going on.

"You okay there?" asked Assault, giving Michael what he suspected was a concerned look.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Michael realised he'd been staring at Miss Medic for a few seconds too long. "Sorry, I've got a lot of things on my mind at the moment. Let's get this show on the road."

<><>​

Panacea

Amy hummed to herself as she carefully rebuilt Atropos's limbs. The leg of ham provided the required biomass (even discounting the bits and pieces lost to her injuries, Atropos was skinny) and the water Vicky had fetched was replacing her fluids nicely, so all Amy needed to do was make sure she matched to the left and right. While a few fingers and toes had gone missing on the intact limbs, Amy found her power was perfectly capable of tapping into Atropos' genetic predispositions and filling in the gaps that way.

She'd taken the module off Atropos' left forearm so it wouldn't get in the way, and now it lay on the bed. Neither she nor Vicky were inclined to mess with it, but that didn't stop her sister from speculating on what it was. Amy had better things to do with her time right then; while Atropos might not have been the most badly injured person she'd ever had to treat, she'd definitely earned a spot in the top ten.

"I bet it's what she uses to remove powers," Vicky said from her seat on Amy's computer chair. "The thing with the sword was all just for show."

"Nope," Amy countered absently as she finished off the toes on Atropos' regrown right foot. "She's used grapes twice that I personally know of, and Crystal says she gave Labyrinth a grape as well."

"Well, okay, the thing with the sword and the grapes were all for show." Vicky spread her hands. "Misdirection. It's a thing, and she's really good at it."

"I don't think so." Amy started on Atropos's right arm. She felt really in tune with her power today, with no need to pause and think about what she had to do next. "When I regrew Noelle's legs for her, Atropos told Trickster that there was something in the grape, a poison that only affected her powers. Now, she could've been lying to all of us but in my experience, she doesn't lie. She'll say things to your face that are so outrageous that they have to be false, but by the time you figure out they aren't, she's got what she wants."

"Okay, yeah, point taken. She's a lot of things, but she's not a bullshit artist." Vicky rolled her eyes. "Not to say her powers aren't bullshit from end to end, but she says what she means."

Amy felt Atropos' consciousness beginning to return; she had a moment to consider whether she wanted to keep the girl under, then decided that if her patient's body wanted to be awake, who was Amy to argue? She took a moment to dull the pain response a little, then kept on rebuilding Atropos' body, one repaired injury at a time.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Atropos said, pretty damn clearly for someone who had to be under a lot of discomfort right about then. "And it's my teleporter, but that was going to be your next guess anyway."

"Yeah, but—holy shit!" yelped Vicky, staring at Atropos. "You're awake! How are you awake?"

"Because I'm not unconscious, duh." Atropos grinned at Vicky, her expression visible where part of the mask had either been disintegrated or melted, Amy wasn't sure which. "By the way, Amy, nice job with my toes. You got them just right." She wiggled the appendages in question.

"Thanks." Despite herself, Amy felt a warm glow from the praise. "I had to lean on my power a bit, given that you'd lost a few toes from your other foot, but it figured things out anyway."

"Okay." Vicky had gotten over her surprise, and now she leaned forward. "I gotta know. What the hell were you doing, going after Sleeper, anyway? He's all the way over in Russia, nowhere near Brockton Bay. Or did someone pay you to off him? Is he dead?"

"Vicky!" Amy hissed the word, hoping nobody had heard Vicky's reaction to Atropos waking up. "Stop badgering my patient!" She'd intended to do a little badgering of her own, after she got a little more of the work done, and didn't want her sister poisoning the well.

"No, it's okay." Atropos turned her head to face Vicky. "The reason I was going after Sleeper wasn't because anyone paid me to. It's because he's heading for the portal to Earth Shin, where he would cause untold death and destruction, but he's doing it to get away from me."

"So … tell him that you're not after him?" suggested Vicky.

"I could, but it wouldn't stick." Atropos grimaced. "See, he was a low-level gangster who got caught in a firefight, and was shot in the head with a small-calibre bullet that fragmented and sent pieces all through his brain, disabling parts that he needed to stay alive. It would've killed him, but the fragments missed his corona pollentia, and he triggered before he would've died. His power took over his vital brain functions, but he's not exactly all there, and his brain keeps slipping and getting rebooted by his powers. So I got him a warning, and an offer. He can stay where he is and let me remove his powers while you and Miss Medic fix his brainmeats, or he can go through a portal to a world of my choosing."

Amy noticed that a third option hadn't been given, then she figured that the third option was patently obvious. This was Atropos, after all.

"Uh …" Vicky pointed at Atropos' face. "Your mask. It's slipping."

"Oh, good point. Hang on a second." The hat had already fallen off when she arrived, not even really fit for the description anymore, but her mask was still mostly on her face. She used her partial left hand (Amy had yet to regrow the fingers she'd lost) to pull off the tattered remains and shook her hair out. "Whew, that's better."

"Holy. Shit." Vicky breathed the words. "Did you just … are you unmasking to us?"

"Sure." Atropos seemed unfazed by the idea. "Are you gonna tell anyone what I look like?"

Amy shook her head in a very definite negatory gesture, but Vicky seemed to have already gotten the idea. "Hah, not a hope in hell. I like living. Besides, I've got no idea what your name is."

"Well, we can't have that." Atropos' smirk was composed of pure mischief. "Taylor Hebert, at your service."



End of Part Eighty-Nine

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Ninety: Progress, Albeit Rocky

[A/N 1: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
[A/N 2: Trigger warning for graphic description of an injury, second paragraph.]

Chevalier

"He's just down this way." Michael led the way along an alley to where a section had been cordoned off with police tape. It was old and tattered, but still mostly intact, mainly because most people had no desire to screw with Gray Boy loops.

The man contained within the monochrome bubble was in his mid-thirties and seemed to be repeating a section of looped time a little over five seconds in length. During that interval, something stabbed him low on the stomach and pulled upward, opening his abdominal wall up to his breastbone. He was just beginning to fall over, his intestines spilling out of the gaping wound, when the loop restarted.

"Eww, ugh," groused Clockblocker, raising a hand to block out the sight. "Warn a guy, why don't you?"

"What part of 'Gray Boy bubble' were you not actually told about?" asked Miss Medic rhetorically, apparently taking in every detail. This didn't actually make Michael feel any better about her. "Okay, the mental effects aside, this should be an easy fix."

"Mental effects?" asked Assault. "What mental effects?"

"Yeah," Shebang added. "I want to hear about these mental effects too."

Miss Medic turned to face them. "Okay, so when I got asked to volunteer for this, I went and read up everything I could get on them. I had to get special permission from Director Renick to access some information—something about me being too young to read stuff like that—but I made my case, and he was pretty understanding."

Tenebrae tilted his head; Michael got the impression he was raising an eyebrow. "I wondered what that was about."

"Yup!" she said brightly. "So, what I figure is that if someone is kept in a constant torture loop like this, their mind falls apart, then back together, then apart, and so on in a vicious cycle. Also, if they've got a corona pollentia, there's a massive chance that they'll trigger as soon as the bubble goes down. Ninety to ninety-five percent chance is my best guess."

Michael did not want to engage with the girl he knew to be Bonesaw, especially while she was talking so knowledgeably about the long-term effects of torture, but this was absolutely something that had to be addressed. "Which means we would very likely have an insane person, with powers and potentially fatal injuries, right here in this alley with us."

"Great," Clockblocker muttered. "Why exactly are we doing this again?"

"Oh, the powers would almost certainly work to make sure the injury isn't fatal to him," Miss Medic said cheerfully, ignoring the interjection. "Unfortunately, that says nothing about what happens to everyone else around him, or even the whole city block."

Assault looked around. "And this isn't Brockton Bay, so Atropos isn't likely to stroll around the corner and tell us this is a really bad idea."

"Um," said Shebang. Her expression indicated someone who was feeling more and more out of their depth with every passing second.

"So, if he comes out and starts looking like obliterating us all, I freeze him and we all run like hell?" offered Clockblocker.

Miss Medic shook her head. "Nuh-uh. I think I've got a better idea. Shebang, walk with me. We need to have a chat."

"While you're doing that," Michael said, "I'll update Legend and the Chief Director on the current situation. Assault, try not to break anything before I get back."

Assault leaned against the wall, arms folded. "No promises."

Moving off a ways down the alley, Michael selected Costa-Brown's number on his phone and sent the call through.

<><>​

Alexandria

When Rebecca saw Chevalier's number come up on her phone, her first thought was, either something's gone extremely right or extremely wrong. As no other alerts had popped up for Philadelphia, she dared hope for the former.

Setting aside the report on the sighting of Atropos entering Sleeper's area of effect, she took up the phone. "Speak to me."

"Ma'am, we're at the site." Chevalier sounded frazzled, which wasn't like the man at all. "We haven't yet begun operations, because of potential complications. But the biggest problem is that my power shows Miss Medic up to be Bonesaw. Nice kid, not in the slightest bit homicidal, but she's still Bonesaw. I don't know how Atropos did it, but—"

"Stop," she ordered. He fell silent, and she began to sift through all the potential ways this could have happened. Dragon had to be in on it, either as a willing conspirator or an unwitting dupe. When did Atropos begin to turn her? Was it when she went after Atropos following the death of Saint?

The next three questions were: how did Atropos dispose of the plagues from Bonesaw's body; then change her from a twelve-year-old blonde white girl to a ten-year-old black girl with a strong resemblance to the Laborns; then turn her from an amoral serial killer into a happy, healthy, well-adjusted child?

From hundreds of possibilities, down to dozens, to a few, all the way to one, took her less than a second. There was only one person with the capability, with whom Atropos had had contact. Deliberate, preplanned contact, or I'll eat my favourite boots, without salt.

Panacea.

It had to be.

There was nobody else Rebecca knew of who could have disarmed Bonesaw, healed whatever damage Atropos did to make her look dead, changed her phenotype so thoroughly, and fixed her headspace to make her into someone who wanted to help and heal people. It only required one bit of information to determine whether the hypothesis was valid or not.

Still holding the phone, she opened a text message box and tapped out a message to Contessa:

Can Panacea work with brains?

The answer came back two seconds later.

yes

Rebecca closed her eyes for a second and smiled grimly. She wanted to face-palm due to how thoroughly Atropos had pulled the wool over everyone's eyes, but right now she wouldn't give herself the satisfaction. Later, when she had the time, she was going to fly up to ten thousand feet and scream a few obscenities into the wind, but until then she had to be Chief Director.

The setup was clear now. For some reason, Atropos wanted to help Panacea de-stress, so she'd coldly and deliberately set matters up so that there was another healer in Brockton Bay. With the capture of Grue, the PRT had left themselves wide open for a third Laborn family member, who would have an older brother and sister to keep her on the straight and narrow. (Of course, having someone like Dragon on call to create said family records out of thin air also helped).

According to Chevalier, Miss Medic was safe to be around, which was entirely on-brand with Atropos. After all, she'd turned more than two hundred and fifty killer robots into willing construction workers, and a surprising number of villains had meekly shown up at the Brockton Bay city limits, asking if they could also join the workforce.

(Contessa was still smarting over being blasted in the ear with an air horn, over Faultline).

And that didn't even count Accord, who at last report was having a ball laying out the plans for the recuperation of the entire goddamn Brockton Bay region with the glee of an OCD perfectionist handed a ten-figure budget.

Rebecca made a mental note to keep a much closer eye on Dragon, and see what other shenanigans the AI was up to—it had to be Atropos who'd gotten her around the limitations Saint had regularly exploited—but decided not to confront her until she had more information. Then she put the phone to her ear again. "Chevalier, thank you for bringing this information to me. The situation is under control. You are to take no further action regarding this specific situation, or tell anyone else about this, except Legend. Do you understand?"

The pause was so long that she wondered if the call had dropped out. Then he responded. "Message received and understood, ma'am. We're to treat this as Atropos business?"

By which he evidently meant, 'do not fuck around with, lest we find out'.

"Exactly," she said. "Atropos business. So long as Miss Medic does her job and does it properly, let her be. Now, you said there were potential complications?"

"Ah, actually, yes. We're at the Gray Boy loop we're intending to try to drop, and Miss Medic indicated that the victim would likely have been sent insane by the ordeal. Also, there's a ninety-plus percent chance that he's going to trigger with powers as soon as we release him. She's currently conferring with Shebang over a potential fix."

Rebecca closed her eyes again. Nothing's ever easy. "But she sounds like she has a solution?"

"She seems to think she might, yes."

"Okay, when you find out what it is, use your best judgement. Have you spoken to Legend about any of this yet?"

"I was going to call him next, ma'am."

"Good. Do that. Tell him I'm on to the Bonesaw aspect. Costa-Brown, out."

She ended the call and put the phone down on the desk, then let out an aggravated sigh.

One day, Atropos. Just one day without your bullshit. That's all I ask.

<><>​

Glory Girl

"Wait, what?" Vicky was so startled, only her flight saved her from falling off the chair. "That's not your real name … is it?" But she was staring at Atropos' face, comparing it to the memory of a tall man with careworn features, snapping orders that saved another man's life.

"That's me." Appearing to know what Vicky was thinking, Taylor nodded to her. "Danny Hebert's my dad."

Now Amy was staring too. "You put your dad in as head of the Betterment Committee? Isn't that a conflict of interest or something?"

Taylor's snort was pure Atropos. "You're acting like I should care about rules like that. I trust Dad to play things straight down the line, so I adjusted matters to make sure he'd be in the running for the top spot. Mayor Christner made the final call, though I'm fairly sure he picked Dad so if things did go to shit, he could claim that it wasn't one of his people at fault."

"But …" Vicky stumbled for words. When Atropos had been a faceless shadow with a terrifyingly sharp pair of shears and a gun that never missed, it was easy to see her as a force of nature. Tornadoes didn't need to have a grudge against the trailer parks they demolished, they just went ahead and did it. But now she was facing a girl of her own age in a tattered costume, patently vulnerable to injury, who had reasons for what she did. Mortal like the rest of them.

It was a paradigm shift that Vicky was having trouble getting her head around.

"Let me guess," Atropos said, not unkindly. "You want to know why I kill people? How I can bring myself to just End their lives, while at the same time helping out people like Amy?"

"Well … yes." Vicky wouldn't have put it quite as bluntly as that, but that was the gist of it. "Why murder?"

Taylor's eyes glinted. "Because nothing else was working."

"Yes, it was!" The retort burst out of her before she even had time to think about it. "We had police, PRT, and heroes! We were making a difference!"

"Bullshit." The word was flat and hard, and fell into the conversation like a lead brick. "You were treading water at best. Hookwolf and Lung both had Birdcage sentences, yet they were still walking the streets in broad daylight. How many times did Hookwolf get captured but escape from his transport because someone inside law enforcement leaked the route to the Empire Eighty-Eight? Three times, wasn't it?"

"We were keeping the crime down," Vicky persisted. "Keeping the streets safe."

"By letting the ABB extort 'protection' money and run prostitutes, many of whom were forced into the life. My ex-best-friend nearly ended up having her face mutilated for a gang initiation, in broad daylight, with a superhero standing right there and choosing not to intervene. Does that sound like the streets were being kept safe?"

"That doesn't sound right," objected Amy. "Which superhero was that?"

"Shadow Stalker." Taylor's voice may as well have been reading a name out of a phone book. "And yes, she was my first kill. The irony is, I didn't even do it for Emma. She was an edgelord psycho who never stepped in to help anyone unless they fought back first. But if the person she was bullying fought back, she came back twice as hard at them. She tried it on me, and ignored two warnings."

Amy nodded, remembering. "Yeah, I read about that on your PHO thread. She was actually bullying you before you were Atropos?"

"She was." Taylor didn't seem overly put out about it. "And then, once I got my powers, she wasn't. But we were talking about the ABB. Two capes, and nobody did a damn thing about them until I took care of matters."

"Well, okay, they were pretty bad," conceded Vicky, "but you have to admit, Lung was a tough nut to crack, especially with Oni Lee helping him."

Taylor gave her a level stare. "It took me four nights, and I Ended two other gangs while I was at it. As for the Merchants, they were hardly even a gang, but everyone just kept letting them deal drugs to kids anyway. And finally, the Empire Eighty-Eight had more capes in the city than all the heroes put together, and committed more cape crime than all the other villains put together. When was the last time any of them were even captured, much less spent a night in lockup?" Her eyebrows should've been treated as deadly weapons, the way she had them cocked and locked.

These were questions Vicky couldn't really find a good answer for, but she did her best anyway. "We couldn't fix everything at once. Anyway, when they cleared all the villains out of Boston, a new bunch came in and started fighting over turf. A lot of people got hurt before it was over. Tell her, Ames!" She looked over at her sister. Amy had been there too, putting pins in maps and relaying sightings.

"Why?" asked Amy. "I'm on her side."

While Vicky was still gaping at that, Taylor cleared her throat. "You'll notice that I did fix everything at once. Five nights, four gangs. Also, some capes did try to replay the Boston Games scenario. Some of them died, and some of them came in on my terms, and aren't villains anymore. Because the act of Ending someone isn't just a blunt instrument. Used right, it can be a scalpel too."

"Okay, okay, wait, hold on a second." Vicky wanted to address one thing at a time. "Ames, what the fuck? What do you mean, you're on her side? She kills people!"

Amy rolled her eyes as only she could. "I'm not into the murder thing. Obviously. But she's right when she says what we were doing wasn't working. And what she's been doing did actually fucking work. So there's got to be a third way, maybe just a tidal wave of heroes coming into a city and scouring out every last villain—"

"Sorry, but that wouldn't work." Taylor wasn't as scathing as she had been to Vicky, but her tone was equally definite. "While villains by themselves don't cause social problems for the most part, they do exacerbate existing ones, and make it a lot harder to eradicate every last trace of them. But if you only take the villains away, the issues remain and feed on each other. You've got to hit all aspects of a problem, or it just keeps cropping up again."

By now, Amy was nodding. "Infrastructure, crime, homelessness, poverty, unemployment, poor education, drug habituation, mental illness, yeah. Got it. You're stabbing all those problems with money."

"And to both get that money and to make sure it wouldn't be wasted once spent, I had to End a whole bunch of people who desperately needed it," Taylor agreed. "Plus an Endbringer." She gave Vicky a sly look. "I hope you're not going to hold the Simurgh against me too?"

Vicky had learned enough from her clashes with Atropos to know when to admit that continuing to argue would just make her look like the bad guy. Rolling her eyes, she shook her head with a chuckle. "Oh, just shut the fuck up and let my sister heal your sorry ass."

<><>​

Clockblocker

"So, how's your dad, anyway?" asked Tenebrae idly. "Still doing well, I hope?"

Dennis nodded and grinned, though the latter was entirely hidden inside his helmet. "It's been a week, and he's getting stronger all the time. He went in for tests today, so we won't find out for another couple of days, but we're really optimistic." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Your cousin is amazing. Just saying."

"Yeah, she is." Tenebrae nodded in return. "She's helping knock some of the rougher edges off my little sister, and …" He paused. "Did you know Paladin is living with us?"

"Not officially, but it's gotten around, yeah." Dennis tilted his head. "Is it true that he's whats-his-name's kid? I mean, literally Captain Nazi Junior?" He figured that was safe enough to say around Ballinger. Assault wasn't telling him to shut up, anyway.

Tenebrae sighed. "I can neither confirm nor deny his identity, but I can tell you that Paladin has zero attitudes in that direction. Even though he's older than both of them, they treat him like their little brother."

"Aww, nice." Dennis was about to say more, but Assault cleared his throat and gestured sideways with his head. Looking that way, Dennis saw Chevalier on the way back. "Heads up, the big guy's incoming."

"So are Miss Medic and Shebang." Tenebrae was looking in the other direction. It kind of made sense that he'd be keeping an eye on his cousin. "They don't look too upset, so I'm guessing they came up with something."

Dennis snorted. "What did you expect? Lock two Tinkers in the same room together, and they'll either kill each other or bust out of there with a battle tank that flies and can turn into a giant robot."

"Don't you mean, a giant robot that flies and turns into a battle tank?"

"I meant what I said."

<><>​

Tenebrae

"Okay, then," announced Riley, dusting her hands off in a businesslike way. "Shebang and I have pretty well figured out how we can maybe solve our problems."

Shebang put up a finger. "That's a pretty big 'maybe', hon. Also, it was basically all your idea."

Brian heard the bit she didn't say, loud and clear. So if it goes wrong, it's not my fault.

"Well, don't keep us all in suspense," Assault prompted. "What's the solution?"

Riley took a deep breath. "You might not be a fan of this, but here goes. Memory loss. We drop the loop, then we immediately revert his memories back to just before he went in. If he's got no memories of being tortured, he's not insane. If he's not insane, he's not under stress. If he's not under stress, he's got no reason to trigger. Then all I have to do is save his life—which, to be honest, Clock here could manage with a staple gun and half a dozen Band-Aids—and we're home and dry, yeah?"

Clockblocker held up his hand. "You're right. Not a fan. But … I can't really see another way to do it?" He drew the statement out like a question, as though hoping someone else would point out an alternative solution.

"It is an interesting concept," Chevalier observed neutrally. "How exactly were you going to revert his memories in a way that wouldn't cause additional stress?"

Riley grinned and pointed Shebang's way with two finger-guns. "Plan A is for our bomb-guru here to make two bombs, linked. The first bomb drops the loop. The second bomb absorbs the temporal energy from the loop and pops off in our victim's face, reverting everything in the area to what it was on whatever date he got Gray-Boy'd. We'd have to find that out, of course."

"I don't even know if that'll work, just saying," Shebang supplied. "Theoretically, it should. But there's a huge gap between 'theoretically' and 'reality'."

Assault rubbed his chin. "If you have a Plan A, then you have at least a Plan B. What's Plan B? Clockblocker lurking behind him with a big hammer?"

"No, that's plan Z." Riley said it so seriously that Brian was almost taken in for a second. "Plan B is that the second bomb hits him with an infused dose of stuff I can make that … um." She glanced around at everyone, still looking at her with interest, then went on. "That kind of causes a moderate amount of retrograde amnesia. Instant uptake, instant effect."

Clockblocker looked around at the group. "Am I the only one who doesn't know what retrograde amnesia is?"

"I don't," confessed Shebang.

"Likewise," said Assault.

Trooper Ballinger cleared his throat. "Isn't it loss of the memories from before whatever happened to you?"

"Holy shit!" blurted Clockblocker. "He speaks!" He turned to Ballinger. "Seriously, I was half wondering if you were a robot that Shebang made."

"I make bombs, doofus, not robots." Shebang rolled her eyes. "Trooper Ballinger is a perfectly nice man who volunteered to carry my cases for me."

Assault cleared his throat. "Trooper, on behalf of my Wards, I apologise for the rudeness. Especially considering that you knew more about what Miss Medic was referring to than half of us did."

Ballinger nodded. "I appreciate it, sir, but it's not a problem."

"Was there a Plan C?" asked Chevalier.

Riley nodded. "Yes, sir. Instead of a second bomb, Clockblocker freezes him and I apply the stuff as a topical ointment. Skin uptake isn't as fast as bomb infusion, so there's a chance he'll still trigger before it takes effect. And Plan D is … well, we call up Atropos and ask her to help out by killing his powers before he can do anything drastic, then we keep him sedated until we can deal with his mental problems."

"Hmm." Chevalier seemed to be thinking hard. "Let's leave any plans that involve calling on Atropos as extreme backup plans, shall we? For now … Shebang, for Plan A, what's the projected range on that time-reversion bomb, and do you need extra equipment to put it together?"

"Anything from fifteen feet to fifty feet, and I'll need to get some readings first." Shebang turned to Trooper Ballinger, and pointed. "I need that case, please."

"Ma'am." He picked up the left-hand case and hefted it forward a few feet, then stepped back.

"Thank you." Unsnapping the catches, she opened it to reveal a bewildering array of electronics, with an air of being slightly off that Brian was learning to recognise was a trademark of Tinker tech. He'd seen it in Kid Win's work as well as Armsmaster's, but Shebang's was even more obvious. Whether it was because she was newer or she just didn't care enough to try to make her stuff look more normal, he had no idea.

Sliding an instrument out of its niche, she began running it over the exterior of the bubble that enclosed the Gray Boy loop. Within, the hapless victim went through his endless cycle of being eviscerated, falling, resetting, stabbed, falling, over and over again. Brian didn't like it, but he'd seen worse as Grue, and he suspected he would again.

"Well, okay then." Shebang was focusing on the readouts to the point that Brian suspected she'd forgotten there was a man in there. "Gotta say, Clock, this is a lot easier than trying to get data out of your stupid rubber ball." She shut off the scanner while Brian was still trying to make sense of that, then turned to face Chevalier. "I've got good news and bad news, sir."

"Bad news first," he said promptly. "Is this even possible to do?"

"Oh, sure, it's possible." She tried a nonchalant twirl with her scanner, and it slipped out of her grasp, but Brian whipped out his hand and snagged it before it could drop all the way to the floor of the alley. "Shit! Um, wow, those are some crazy-ass reflexes you've got there."

"If you ever met my sister, you'd know why." He waited until he was sure she had a good grip on it before letting it go. The last thing he wanted was for her to have to go back to New York to build another scanner. "So, you were saying?"

"Oh, yeah." She took a deep breath. "It's totally doable. Buuuttttt … I just don't have the parts I need for the second bomb. Good news, I can build it, and I'm pretty sure I can make it work. I just need some stuff first."

"What do you need, and do you have it back in New York?" asked Chevalier.

"A bunch of rare earths," she admitted. "And no, I don't. So I'm gonna have to requisition it through Legend and Director Piggot. On the upside, once I've got it, I'm reasonably sure I can bust our buddy right out of grayscale world, and rewind his memory to day dot." She tucked the scanner back into the case and dusted her hands off, looking pleased with herself.

"So … we're not popping the cork today?" asked Clockblocker.

Brian shrugged. "It appears not."

"Understood." Chevalier nodded once, curtly. "Well, then. Let's get you back home, so you can work on that. Well done, by the way. Any progress is better than no progress at all."

As they filed out of the alleyway, Brian could feel the man's eyes on the back of his neck, but he didn't look back.

We'll get you out of there, buddy. Just not today.

<><>​

Taylor

On my feet at last, I stretched and flexed my arms and legs. Already, I could feel my power retuning my newly rebuilt muscles to optimum fitness levels. "Well, that's definitely an improvement," I decided. "When I got here, I didn't have a leg to stand on."

Amy face-palmed, and Vicky groaned. "Wow, really?" Vicky groused. "Bad jokes, at a time like this?"

"Hey, there's always time for bad jokes." I tugged on what remained of my left sleeve and it came away, then I picked up the teleport module and slid it onto my arm. "It's amazing how many people underestimate you if you make a cheesy pun at the right moment."

"Now I know why you and Mouse Protector get along so well," Amy snarked. She nodded at the teleporter as I settled it into place. "Where did you get it from, anyway? I've seen a bit of Tinker tech before, but nothing as good as that."

"Leet, actually." Flicking up the cover, I tapped in the coordinates for my bedroom at home. "I had a word with him, my power had a word with his power, and what do you know, tech that doesn't blow up if you look at it wrong."

Vicky frowned. "What do you mean, your power had a word with his power? Powers don't talk to each other."

"Trump powers do," I corrected her. "Also, Jack Slash's power was built to talk to other powers. It was how he managed to stay around for so long. Any time a cape went after him, it was feeding him information under the table."

Amy nodded. "Yeah, I remember how you talked about what a cheating asshole he was."

"He was all of that. And when my power has a word with someone else's power, that power knows not to screw me over." I flipped the cover down again. "Need a hand cleaning up?"

"Pfft, nah." She waved her hand casually. "I got this. You're good at killing things, but I'm amazing at dealing with biological messes."

"Okay, yeah, point." I raised my (newly regrown) finger to get her attention, and Vicky's as well. "Before I go, there's two things I want to say. First, thank you both for being good sports. I truly appreciate it. And second, just remember that jumping straight to killing isn't the solution to dealing with villains. Not for you, anyway."

Vicky blinked. "Okay, I wasn't about to go out and start murdering villains, but isn't that a teensy bit hypocritical of you? You started offing people from the get-go. You've blown up warehouses and boats, and set fire to eighteen-wheelers. And I'm never going to forget what you did to Lung and Skidmark."

"All of that is true," I admitted. "Except for the hypocrisy bit. See, my power is basically called Ending. Its entire purpose is killing things: people, ideas, intentions, threats. It tells me who needs to die in order to End a problem, how to End them, and how to do it in order to get the reaction I want. But the result I want needs to involve Ending something. I can't just say, 'I want', and get it."

"And what you want is …?" Vicky prompted.

"Don't you read PHO at all?" Amy chided her. "She wants what we want. A safer and nicer Brockton Bay."

I clicked my tongue and made a finger-gun at her. "Got it in one."

Vicky nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Understood. Well, thanks for trusting us. Trusting me."

"Thanks for being trustworthy. Welp, my ride's here." I turned as the shadowy portal formed in mid-air. Giving both girls a nod, I stepped into it, emerging in my own bedroom.

Tattered costume and all, I pirouetted on my toes and fell backward onto the bed, letting out a huge sigh.

"Well," I informed the ceiling. "That was a day."



End of Part Ninety

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Ninety-One: Asking the Important Questions

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

■​

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♦ Topic: A New Warning Delivered
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► New Capes ► Atropos
Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me) (Verified Dethpicable)
Posted On Mar 15th 2011:

Hello again to my favorite city, and the wonderful people therein!

I hope you're having an awesome week. Mine's looking up; I had a little bit of a rough patch yesterday, but I made two new friends, so that's always a good thing.

So anyway, for those who have read the title of this post, you must be wondering exactly who did the stupid and got my attention.

That person is Sleeper.

He's not very sociable, but that's okay. It takes all kinds. In his case, he was looking to go someplace populous and kill a lot of people, if by accident.

For reasons of my own, I'm reluctant to let that happen, so I had to go in and give him a warning not to. It wasn't the easiest thing in the world, but I got in through his storm (mostly in one piece) and delivered it to his hand. At midnight local time, even, because traditions are fun.

Yes, I could've just ganked him, but I've said everyone gets a warning, so he got a warning.

What happens next is up to him. Either he loses his powers, allows me to shunt him to an unoccupied alternate Earth where he can devastate the landscape to his heart's content, or I put Sleeper to sleep, permanently.

I gave him twenty-four hours to think about it. We'll see how it goes then.

Toodles!

(Showing page 1 of 276)

►Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Replied On Mar 15th 2011:
Well, dang.
Okay, this is going to need some unpacking, because apparently Atropos is too modest to claim credit for stopping the first potential interdimensional war.
Where do I start?
About a week and a half ago, a cape dictator calling herself Goddess (pretentious? Never!) on an alternate Earth with the designation of Shin decided she needed outside help to quash the multiple resistance movements pushing back against her Benevolent Rule (yes, this is sarcasm).
So, not being from Brockton Bay, she decided that the best possible way to pull this off was to kidnap not only Atropos (a career ending move if I ever heard of one) but also to grab a few hostages on top of that (one of whom was our very own Miss Medic). Held in remote locations, they were Goddess' guarantee that Atropos wouldn't go all murder-happy on her and her Court.
This did not go well.
See, Atropos saw her coming. (Goddess' real name was Bianca. The day before all this kicked off, in Atropos' PHO post, she literally inserted the phrase "Be informed: a new city arises", which spells out BIANCA if you go back and look at it (I facepalmed so hard when someone told me.))
With her usual combination of audacity and sneakery, she managed to make it look like she was slaughtering her way through the resistance guys, while in fact she was doing the exact opposite. End result: Goddess lost her powers, the resistance forces took the palace, and Atropos got the hostages home safely. RIP Goddess.
Since then, Shin has since opened trade relations with Bet, via a portal that apparently exists somewhere.
Anyway, Sleeper started moving very recently, and it was determined he was heading for this portal. If he'd gotten through it, the loss of life would've been catastrophic, and apparently Atropos feels some level of responsibility for Bet-Shin relations, so she took it on herself to deliver him the warning she talked about.
*How* she did it, I'm not entirely sure, because his 'storm' (as good a word as any) is pretty well destructive to anything that's not actually the ground, but she got in and out again alive, so I'm not arguing.
All I can say is, damn. That's some serious dedication to doing the right thing.
Sleeper, if you have internet access, here's my two cents. Do what she says. Seriously.

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me) (Verified Dethpicable)
Replied On Mar 15th 2011:
(sigh)
Okay, fine, that happened. I did that. The governments of Shin are transitioning as we speak, to a vaguely democratic model where cape and non-cape alike get a fair shake, following my specific recommendation not to have a backlash against capes in general.
Sleeper's incursion would've set all that back, and I'm not a fan of wasted effort. Thus, the warning.

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On Mar 15th 2011:
I can confirm that Miss Medic and a friend were abducted from her home on the fifth, and returned within a few hours, unscathed. The third hostage was equally unharmed, according to them.
Representatives of Earth Shin have opened diplomatic negotiations, which include trade agreements.
Sleeper has also been reported to be on the move.
The PRT wishes to thank Atropos for saving Miss Medic, and her timely response to this crisis.

►Malarkey
Replied On Mar 15th 2011:
Huh, so Aleph isn't the only alternate out there. Good to know.
Anyway.
'Swhat happens when you break one of the Rules.
Goddess broke Rule 3. She thought she had brought Atropos to her choice of battlefield, and found the landmine she had already prepared.

►GrinningCat
Replied On Mar 15th 2011:
Heh whelp I know that the Darwin Awards committe declared death by Atropos as off limits for nominations of awards but I bet earth shin will be forming its own Darwin academy from the sheer stupidity goddess showed there Rest in Pieces moron.

►UnconcernedFox
Replied On Mar 15th 2011:
*peers suspiciously at Sleeper*
*settles back and grabs more popcorn*
*not over yet*

►MissMedic (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)
Replied On Mar 15th 2011:
I've checked and I am allowed to say that yes, I was there, and yes, it went down basically like Bagrat says.
It was kinda scary, and I don't really want to talk about it, but Atropos totally got us all home safely.

►WingsOnHigh (Verified Not the Simurgh)
Replied On Mar 15th 2011:
Reading between the lines, I'm a little concerned about some of the phrasing there. 'A little bit of a rough patch', 'wasn't the easiest thing in the world', 'mostly in one piece'.
Should we be worried?

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me) (Verified Dethpicable)
Replied On Mar 15th 2011:
Meh, it's nothing I couldn't walk off, with a little help from my friends.
​

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 274, 275, 276

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Atropos
From: Reave
Subject: Just checking

Are you actually okay? Sleeper is no joke.

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Reave
From: Atropos
Subject: Re: Just checking

And nobody's laughing.
It got a little hairy there for a while, but I came out of it okay.
Thanks for asking. I appreciate it.

■

<><>​

Audrey Howell
Former Vice Principal, Arcadia High

Winslow High School looked less than appealing as Audrey drove into the parking lot, but that was only to be expected. Arcadia set a very high bar. Still, someone was making a belated effort, as attested to by the parts of the frontage that had been pressure-washed, probably to get rid of graffiti.

I still don't know why I agreed to this, she told herself, but that wasn't strictly true. She'd been working with Vernon for seventeen years at Arcadia, and considered him to be more like a brother than a boss. So when he'd asked her to take over at Winslow for the duration, at least until the beginning of the next school year when the Board could appoint new staff, she'd found it hard to say no.

It was going to be one hell of a wrench, and a steep learning curve, she knew that much. Winslow had a distinctly shabby reputation; 'gang-infested' was a phrase she'd heard more than once. She could only hope the junior recruits at Winslow had gotten the memo that the gangs were gone from Brockton Bay.

Parking her car, she retrieved her shoulder-bag and got out, then made sure to lock the vehicle. How much good this would actually do, she wasn't sure, but it was worth a try. Checking herself out in the side mirror—hair tied back professionally, business attire, floral scarf around her neck for a touch of colour—she nodded in satisfaction. She wasn't quite sure what headspace the kids would be in after the principal and one of the teachers were escorted out by police, but they probably wouldn't react well to a total martinet walking in the front door.

As she climbed the front steps of the school, she could see many subtle (and not so subtle) clues indicating a long-standing lack of maintenance on the building and its surroundings. She couldn't do much about them, or about the sidelong glances from the students also coming in, but she took note and kept moving. As the outsider here, she was the one who was going to have to prove herself to the teachers and the student body.

She hadn't been able to get away from Arcadia until today, so Winslow had been without a principal for a week. The Board had sent an interim administrator in on a strictly temporary basis; he'd kept the cogs turning, delegating where he could and signing what had to be signed. Audrey was the one who was going to have to actually do the job rather than just hide in the office and kick the can down the road.

As she stepped in through the main doors, she was faced with a mass of students, every single one of whom (it seemed) were looking directly at her, dissecting her with their eyes. To her relief, she didn't see any gang colours, but one or two heads had remarkably short haircuts, and the atmosphere held more than a hint of sullen animosity, all aimed at her. She got the impression that Blackwell had done nothing whatsoever to endear herself to the students, and this had poisoned the well for her successors going forward.

And then a girl stepped out of the crowd; tall, neatly dressed, with long dark hair and glasses. Moving confidently, she went straight up to Audrey and held out her hand. "Hi," she said briskly. "You'd be Mrs Howell, our new principal? It's good to meet you."

Reflexively, Audrey shook it. "Yes, yes, I am," she replied. "It's nice to be here." Her brain finally caught up with her mouth at that point. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Taylor Hebert, but that's not important." Taylor smiled, her manner somehow giving the lie to her casual tone. "I just wanted to welcome you to Winslow, and wish you good luck in managing this madhouse." She added a chuckle that sounded so natural Audrey found herself smiling in response.

"Well, thank you, Taylor. I appreciate the sentiment." She made a mental note to look up Ms Hebert's file as soon as she got the chance; if this girl wasn't already student body president, the position was going wanting.

"That's okay." Taylor stepped aside to let her pass. "I have to get to home room now. You have a good day."

"You, too." Audrey moved onward; it took her a few moments to realise that the entire attitude of the hallway full of students had shifted. Where before there had been subtle sneers and scowls, people were now clearing the way for her and offering nods of respect. A few even murmured a greeting as she passed by.

What on earth is going on here? She'd done nothing that she could see to have engendered such a change. A brief glance backward assured her that there were no hulking students looming behind her to require such deference. On she went, trying her best to pretend this was how she was always treated in a new school.

It was only when she'd passed by all the students and was in an empty hallway that the question occurred to her: how did Ms Hebert know my name? I'm pretty sure there's been no announcement yet. It was just another mystery to add to the pile.

When she got to the principal's office—her office—she didn't bother knocking. The interim administrator looked up as she opened the door and entered. "Can I help you?" He was balding and overweight, almost a parody of the classic idea of a school principal.

"I believe so." She gave him a brief smile. "I'm Audrey Howell, the new principal. You would be Derek Simons?"

"That's me." He popped to his feet more quickly than she would have expected for someone of his apparently sedentary nature. "I wasn't expecting you for another couple of hours. What do you need?"

She took a deep breath. "I need you to fill me in on everything. Issues you're dealing with right now. Any discipline problems with the students. Where everything is in this office. Any maintenance problems you've found. Everything."

As the eager light died from his eyes, she realised he'd thought he was going to be just walking out the door the moment she walked in. Oh, hon. Not hardly.

"Um … okay, I've got a folder here …" He pulled open a drawer.

"Good, but before we get started on that, can you answer me a question?"

He looked up from the folder. "What?"

"When you're walking the halls, how do the students treat you?"

The grimace told her everything. "They look at me like I'm shit on the bottom of their shoe. Why?"

"Oh, no reason."

As he opened the folder, and started showing her what he had, she paid attention. But at the back of her mind, the question had been asked.

What the heck happened back there?

<><>​

Cauldron Base

Legend

"Did you know?"

Keith looked up from his morning croissant as Rebecca stalked into the break room, staring daggers at Contessa.

Contessa finished pouring her coffee, put it down then turned to Rebecca with cup in hand. "About Miss Medic? Yes."

Keith's head came up; he knew what this was about, and he was still working out his stance on the matter. Despite his new knowledge about the girl, he still liked her. She was a delight to talk to, and dedicated to her role. He'd heard that everyone upped their game when she was around, so as not to disappoint her.

"What about Miss Medic?" Doctor Mother put down her herbal tea and looked from one to the other. "Don't keep us in suspense, here."

Rebecca sighed in aggravation and massaged her brow with her fingers and thumb; Keith suspected the pressure being generated would have crushed steel. "She's Bonesaw. Or she used to be. Atropos pulled some bullshit I'm still trying to get to the bottom of, had Panacea give her a total physical and mental makeover, then got Dragon to assist in getting the girl inserted into the Wards program."

Across the other side of the table, Kurt let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, yeah. That girl's got style."

Rebecca glared at him. "Shut up. Not helping."

"Bonesaw." Doctor Mother stared at her. "Are you certain?"

Keith understood where she was coming from. Between age, height, weight, facial shape, body type and ethnic phenotype, Bonesaw and Miss Medic had absolutely nothing in common. Both were preteen girls, and that was it.

"Chevalier got a look at her with his power yesterday." Rebecca let out a gusty sigh. "He said she had the purest of intentions. She wants to help people. But …"

"But she's still Bonesaw," Doctor Mother said. "What the hell? Why are we even letting this go on? For all we know, the girl will snap back tomorrow and start murdering people all over again."

"No, she won't." Kurt shook his head. "I've seen how Atropos works. She's there before a problem can become unfixable, and she knows how to fix it. If she's not keeping tabs on Miss Medic, I'll clean every corridor in this place with my tongue."

"But still …" Doctor Mother shook her head. "We should do something."

"No. We shouldn't." Contessa sipped at her coffee. "As Number Man said, Miss Medic is under her eye, and under her protection. Interfering would only draw her attention, and her ire. I have no desire to do either."

"Exactly. And she is helping people." Keith eyed Contessa carefully. "Is this why you didn't tell us earlier?"

She raised one perfect eyebrow. "Would it have helped?"

"Maybe!" Rebecca crooked her fingers as though she was looking for someone to strangle. "Not letting me get blindsided by it could've been useful!"

Doctor Mother looked at Contessa and then back to Rebecca. "So, we're not going to do anything about the Slaughterhouse Nine member who's now part of the Wards, because another serial killer put her there?"

Despite how bad it sounded when she said it like that, Keith shook his head. "No. Because Atropos isn't just 'another serial killer'. As you may recall, her kill count includes the rest of the Nine, Butcher and the Teeth, most of the Machine Army, the Three Blasphemies, the Simurgh, and apparently the other two Endbringers. Now, she's set her sights on Scion. I'm willing to excuse a lot of dead villains for that."

"And don't even try to claim the moral high ground on this one." Kurt still sounded rather amused. "We've done far worse, with less in the way of results, and you know it. Hell, I used to be one of the Nine."

"But … but …" Doctor Mother sounded frustrated, while at the same time unable to muster a coherent argument. "That's different!"

"Different how, exactly?" Keith challenged her. He respected her for her part in forming Cauldron, but her tendency toward double standards didn't sit well with him.

"It's … I … we …" She stared at him, baffled.

"The phrase you're looking for is 'it's different for us, because we're the good guys'," Kurt said helpfully. "But that's bullshit. We've hurt innocents. She hasn't. In fact, she's helped a few of the people we hurt. And the fact that Dragon willingly assisted her in this means that Atropos has done something we never managed; or rather, never bothered trying to do. Got her out from under Saint's thumb. Who, exactly, is the good guy here again?"

Contessa cleared her throat. "I didn't tell anyone about Miss Medic," she explained, "so that by the time you did find out, she would be established, having already proven herself as a competent and willing healer. Had I mentioned it when she first showed up, you would've been watching her like a hawk for the slightest excuse to swoop in and grab her up. This would probably have irritated Atropos. We want to avoid that."

Amen, thought Keith. Pissing off the girl who had taken down the Simurgh with a sawn-off shotgun was not something he wanted to contemplate.

Doctor Mother turned her glare toward Contessa. "I thought you disliked Atropos. Since when do we use 'Atropos might get upset with us' as a reason not to do something?"

"Whether I like her or not is immaterial." Unperturbed, Contessa sipped her coffee again. "I've tried to influence her twice now, and each time she was waiting for me. Neither experience was pleasant. From the evidence to date, not irritating Atropos seems an excellent way to not have her peer over your shoulder and ask you what the hell you think you're doing."

Kurt nodded toward Doctor Mother. "And just remember, she's said that if she ever has to confront you, she will shoot you in the face, on general principles."

From the sour expression on her face, she hadn't forgotten.

"Okay, fine," Rebecca conceded. "I get why you did it that way. Still not happy. But moving on, has anyone heard anything new about Atropos with regards to Sleeper?"

"Yes, actually," Keith said. "She posted at midnight on PHO. Apparently, she went in there to serve him with a cease and desist. There are hints she may have been injured in the process, but she also said she 'walked it off' with the help of her friends."

Kurt facepalmed at that, but he was also chuckling. "Only goddamn Atropos."

<><>​

Taylor

Cherie looked around at the Winslow auditorium and wrinkled her nose. "Doesn't really compare to the Arcadia one, does it? How often do you have school assemblies like this?"

"Maybe two or three times a year," I said honestly. In the back of my mind, I was keeping track of how Cauldron registered on my threatscape. Despite the fact that Doctor Mother still hated my guts, there were no plans to act against me (or Riley, Amy, or Dragon). Which suited me right down to the ground.

"Not totally surprising," she snarked. "Hey, isn't that the new principal you shook hands with before?"

"It is," I agreed as Mrs Howell stepped up to the microphone and tapped it. She and Blackwell both had bleached blonde hair, but that was about as far as it went with resemblance. Everyone quieted down—word had spread that I'd wished her well—and prepared to listen to what she had to say. I knew damn well any hecklers would be suppressed without me needing to do or say anything.

"Good morning," she said, the aged speakers amplifying her voice with only a little in the way of crackling. "As you are probably aware, Principal Blackwell was escorted out by police before first period exactly one week ago, due to severe irregularities in the way she was running this school. I'm Mrs Howell, your new principal. I do not intend to repeat her mistakes. As such, if anyone is suffering from bullying or other antisocial behaviour, bring it to me. I will listen, and I will act. We didn't tolerate that in Arcadia, and I will not tolerate it here."

She paused to allow the murmur of comments to pass through the audience. Most of the students were cynical, having heard far too many of these promises before, but Cherie nodded slightly. "She means it," she murmured.

I smiled slightly. "I know." If Mrs Howell had been principal when I'd started at Winslow, things may have turned out quite differently for me. But, spilt milk and all that.

"In addition, as you know, Spring Break is coming up next week. You will need to remove all belongings from lockers, and leave nothing in the school. This is because starting on Friday afternoon, the Brockton Bay Betterment Committee will be renovating the entire school from top to bottom. We're getting all new equipment, all new facilities. The last workers will be walking out on Monday morning as we're coming in."

There was stunned silence for a moment, then a roar of approval. We'd all seen how the Betterment Committee workers replaced entire streets overnight, or pulled down buildings and put up better ones in just days. I'd known this was coming, but the idea of Winslow being revamped in this way still gave me a little thrill. I did this. This is me.

Mrs Howell beamed at us all. "I'm glad to hear that you approve. Now, I'll let you get back to home room and enjoy the rest of your day. Thank you all for listening."

The applause started as she stepped down off the podium, and didn't cease until after she'd left by the rear door of the auditorium. As we began to disperse back to our classrooms, I knew that only part of it had been due to my earlier gesture of welcoming her. Most of the response was genuine, actually accepting her as their principal.

Good. It was about time the place had someone in charge who actually wanted to do their job.

<><>

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Director_Renick_PRT_ENE
From: Atropos
Subject: Regarding Miss Medic

Hi. Imma need to borrow her (and Tenebrae, of course) this afternoon to close the deal with Sleeper. I'll be around about three-thirty-ish, with Panacea and Glory Girl.

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: TheRealPanacea
From: Atropos
Subject: Can I borrow you?

So hey, I need to go and deal with Sleeper this afternoon, just after three. Are you up for another collab with Miss Medic? You worked together pretty well last time. And yes, if Vicky wants to come along, she's welcome.

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Atropos
From: Director_Renick_PRT_ENE
Subject: Re: Regarding Miss Medic

I'll have them both in my office at that time.
Thanks for the heads-up, and thanks for dealing with Sleeper.
May I ask what he's going to choose?

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Atropos
From: TheRealPanacea
Subject: Re: Can I borrow you?

You already know I'm going to say yes. Vicky's shaking her head in the background, but I know she's going to want to come along anyway.
See you then.

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Director_Renick_PRT_ENE
From: Atropos
Subject: Re: Re: Regarding Miss Medic

That would be telling.
Thanks for this.

Toodles!

■​

End of Part Ninety-One

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Ninety-Two: Sharing Secrets

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

[A/N 2: There will be racist thought processes from a racist character. These are not shared by the author.]



PRT ENE Wards Base, 2:45 PM

Paladin

"Does Atropos ask for you to go do stuff with her very often?" asked Theo. To make it easier to talk to the others, he'd left the helmet off and put on a domino mask. The sofa was evidently constructed with armoured people in mind, because it only sagged a little more than normal under him. "As opposed to rescuing us when we're kidnapped, I mean."

"Not a lot," admitted Riley. "There was the Damsel of Distress thing. Brian came along on that one, and so did Panacea and Flechette. Oh, and the Travellers thing, too."

"She didn't take you along that time," Brian reminded her. "She asked you to do it because she was busy doing something else."

"But it was still something she needed me to do." Riley gave Brian a defiant look, daring him to contradict her.

"Are you worried that she's going to put Riley in danger?" Brian asked Theo. "Because as far as I'm concerned, that's not an issue. I'm just not a fan of murder being her go-to, is all."

"Oh, it's not that." Theo shook his head. "I know it sounds stupid, but her asking for just you to come along with Riley feels a little bit like I'm second best and I don't count."

"No, no, that's not it at all." Brian put his hand on Theo's armoured shoulder. "I'm Riley's official caregiver. It's literally my job to be next to her whenever she's in public as Miss Medic. When she goes out and about with Atropos and I tag along, I'm about as much use as an outboard motor on an ocean liner, but I do it anyway because it keeps the PRT happy and Atropos doesn't care either way."

Theo blinked. "Oh. I didn't think about it that way."

Riley looked up at him keenly. "Something's still bothering you, isn't it?" Getting up from the sofa, she tilted her head toward the back of the Wards area. "Come on, let's talk."

He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he stood up anyway, his armour's servos humming briefly. Obediently, he followed her down the corridor until they reached the room she was using to store and develop her medical gear. Standing in the doorway, she looked up at him contemplatively until he became uncomfortable. "What?" he asked. "Have I got something on my face?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm just trying to figure out how to tell you just how much I admire you, and that you shouldn't beat yourself up so much." Her tone was serious, a world away from her usual chirpy, upbeat manner, which threw him off even more than it normally would have.

"… what?" He shook his head. "Seriously, what? I'm nobody to admire. I didn't earn this armour. I didn't make it. This metal's been tainted by two generations of neo-Nazis, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to do enough to make up for the damage Kaiser and Allfather did to this city and its people."

She tilted her head to one side. "It's funny that you jumped straight to your powers when I talked about admiring you. A lot of people make that mistake about heroes, thinking their powers are why they should be looked up to."

"Okay, then," he said cautiously. "I clearly have no idea what you're talking about. Could you please enlighten me before I make an even bigger idiot out of myself than I already have?"

She giggled briefly. "Theo, the main reason I admire you is that you did something I never could have. Tell me, how old were you when you decided you didn't want to be a racist jerk like your father and his associates?"

"Um." The shift in topic put him off-guard again. "Seven or eight, I guess. I hadn't really understood things, but then I saw something on TV that made me realise that Max's policies made him the bad guy. When he found out I didn't want to be what he was, he pushed harder and harder, but I couldn't just pretend. It ended up being easier to not react."

"So, to sum up, you spent maybe seven years of your life with a bunch of racist creeps trying to push their ideology down your throat, and you held out all that time. Is that about right?" Her expression, as far as he could make it out, was sympathetic.

"I wouldn't say I 'held out'," he said weakly. "That makes me sound a lot tougher than I was. I just didn't … do what he wanted, I guess."

Riley took a deep breath. "Okay, what I'm about to tell you, nobody in this building except for Brian knows. Atropos, Panacea, and Aisha are also in the know. Plus, Dragon. That's it. Okay?" As if acting on an afterthought, she unstrapped her helmet and removed it.

"Okay …" he said uncertainly.

Before speaking, she glanced around to make sure there was nobody nearby. Instinctively, he formed his helmet over his head and looked around as well, activating the infrared scanning. There were no heat traces nearby at all. Sending the helmet away again, he gave her an encouraging nod.

She took another breath, then spoke so quietly that he had to lean in to hear her voice. "I wasn't born Riley Laborn. I was born Riley Davis, a blonde-haired white girl. And when I was six, I got powers. Not long after that, Jack Slash kicked my parents' front door in. The Slaughterhouse Nine tortured my family over and over until they broke me. I let my family die, and I went away with Jack Slash. It took one night."

He stared at her, puzzle pieces clicking together in his head with ever-increasing speed. If she was telling the truth, with her powerset, there was only one person she could be. "But that means … you're B—"

"I was," she hissed so sharply that he cut off what he was about to say. "I was her for six long years. I became her. Jack Slash wanted me to be his little pet killer, so that's what I was. But then Atropos came along, destroyed the Nine, and killed the monster in my head. Now I'm not her anymore. Panacea gave me a new face, Dragon gave me a new name, and Atropos gave me a new family."

"Jeeesus," he muttered, feeling light-headed. "I mean, okay, I believe you. And if Atropos says you're safe then you're safe. But why are you telling me this now? Do I even need to know it?"

"Well, everyone else in the apartment does, so now we're all on the same page." She put her hand on his arm. "But I didn't tell you because of that. I told you because I know better than anyone what you've been through. Sure, Jack Slash had unfair advantages, but he still broke me in one night. Your dad and his racist buddies didn't manage to break you in seven years. And that's why I admire you. You've got strength inside you that you don't even know about."

"I … what?" He shook his head, confused. "No, I don't. I'm not strong. Ask anyone. I'm a powder-puff. I'll fold at the first strong breeze. That's why I've got to have armour around me, so I can—"

Now she was laughing quietly, shaking her head. He stopped, confused.

"You're a lot of things, Theo Anders, but you're no powder-puff. And I'm guessing it was people like Hookwolf who said you're weak?"

"Well …" He'd been told it so many times that he'd basically internalised it as truth, and it was hard to pin down exactly who had said it. But among the blur of faces jeering at him from his sea of memory, the tattooed cape showed up with his characteristic sneer. "Um, yeah. Among others."

She smiled and rapped on his metal chest-plate with her knuckle, eliciting a tiny clong. "Take it from me, when people like that say you're 'weak', you should take it as a compliment. To them, an accusation of weakness is the ultimate insult, so they use it as one. You not wanting to be a violent person or a racist jerk is weak in their eyes, because to them you don't have the 'stomach' for it. People like that are incapable of seeing the strength it takes to keep saying no, instead of surrendering and becoming what they want you to be. I wasn't strong enough. You were."

Theo blinked, his head spinning. In just a few sentences, Riley—who had been Bonesaw, and wasn't that a kick in the teeth—had turned his entire worldview upside down and inside out. She'd been the worst of villains and now she was the best of heroes—thanks to Atropos—and she was telling him that she admired him for his fortitude.

It sure as hell hadn't felt like fortitude at the time. He hadn't felt like a hero. It had been nothing but a long dreary slog from one day to the next, never quite knowing what extra load Max was going to pile on him to make him 'come around' to the Empire way of seeing things.

The difference between that and his tenure so far in the Laborn household had been far beyond that of night and day. Between chained in the darkest of stygian pits and a glorious summer day strolling on the Boardwalk, maybe. They didn't try to force him down, they lifted him up and encouraged him to express himself. To be himself.

Kayden had tried to let him be a teenager and find his voice, but even she couldn't go too far without Max putting his foot down hard.

I wish she could meet them. Surely she'd change her mind about minorities if she knew how good they are to me.

Taking a deep breath, he focused on the here and now. "Okay, wow, point taken. This is all gonna need to be unpacked once we get home, but for now I'll take your word for it and think about what you've said."

Back to her normal self, she gave him a beaming smile. "That's all I ask. You're a better person than you think, really."

Theo was still trying to think of something to say to that when he spotted Brian coming toward them. "Sorry to break up whatever this is, but it's time."

"It's all good. We were about done, anyway." Riley gave Theo a serious look. "Think about what I said. I meant it."

"Right." Theo watched as she put her helmet on and fastened the strap, then hustled away along the corridor with Brian.

Well, shit. How the hell am I supposed to handle that?

<><>​

Panacea

"But Sleeper? Seriously? You saw what he did to Atropos, and neither one of us is Atropos! We shouldn't be going anywhere near him!"

Amy sighed in mild aggravation at her sister. "She wouldn't be inviting us along if it wasn't safe. Besides, every time you've found out about me going somewhere with her, you complained for days about being left out."

"I did not!"

Amy raised her eyebrows and gave Vicky a Look, copied straight off Carol at her most forceful.

"Well, okay, yeah, but only because anything could've happened to you!"

"Hah, yeah, right. Like anyone's gonna get close to me with Atropos on the lookout."

Vicky paused at that, and Amy grinned internally. She was right, and Vicky had to know she was right. In dealing with Atropos, there were three rock-solid certainties.

One: if Atropos planned on something happening, it was absolutely going to happen.

Two: if Atropos set out to End someone, they were already dead. That they were still walking around and breathing was strictly a temporary state of affairs. This was just as true for Bonesaw as it was for the Simurgh.

Three: if Atropos chose to protect someone, they were the safest person on the planet. This had been proven by Miss Medic and the other two unnamed hostages that Goddess had grabbed to keep Atropos under her thumb. Not only had Atropos Ended Goddess' powers and her reign, but she'd also brought all three hostages home, safe and sound. (It didn't hurt that she'd known it was going to happen a day before it actually did.)

On consideration, Amy added a fourth one: there were no lengths Atropos—Taylor—would not go to, in order to get things done the right way, every time. From setting up an elaborate trap to skewer Kaiser through the eye with his own stolen sword, to getting herself severely injured just so she could deliver a warning to Sleeper, she'd demonstrated that in spades, over and over again. Even down to provoking Vicky online so that she would attack Atropos on sight, thus giving Atropos a temporary hold over Amy herself, to facilitate turning Bonesaw into Miss Medic … the chain of events was inescapable.

Not that Amy resented what Taylor had done. In hindsight, her talks with the masked killer had opened up new possibilities in all directions, not even counting the fascinating adventures Atropos had taken her on. At the time she hadn't seen it that way, but since then her viewpoint had expanded somewhat.

Vicky hadn't finished, however. "So, why do you think she wants me to come along this time? There's got to be some kind of danger, or she'd probably kick me to the curb all over again."

Amy raised her eyebrows. "Do you honestly think anything out there's going to pose a danger that she can't deal with? I agree that there's probably a reason, but it's almost certainly not your ability to punch things."

"And you'd be right," Atropos commented, stepping around Vicky. Clad from head to toe in black, with just the gray vest and white shirt to break the monotony, she looked as though the previous day had never happened. "Nice to see you both. And thanks again for yesterday."

Vicky had either been waiting for something like this or she'd learned some phenomenal self-control, because she neither startled nor yelped in surprise. Though when she turned her head to look, she frowned mightily. "Okay, there's no way in hell you fixed your costume from the mess it was in when you left. We've still got pieces of it here, for crying out loud!"

"Oh, you mean my spare costume?" asked Atropos innocently. "Yeah, that one's trashed. This one here's the original." She took hold of the side of the long-coat and spread it outward. "If you look closely, you can see where the Machine Army put some laser holes through the coat while I was explaining the facts of life to them."

Peering carefully, Amy just barely made out dots of light through the black material. "Huh, holy shit, so I can."

"So why didn't you use this coat yesterday, and keep the new one?" asked Vicky. "It's totally what I would've done."

Atropos shrugged. "I like this one better."

"Exactly," Amy added. Atropos understood this sort of thing. "It's cooler this way. Like if Armsmaster left little tiny scrapes on his armour when he threw down with someone."

"But … he doesn't."

"Which is why Atropos will always be cooler than Armsmaster." Amy smirked at her sister. "As if it needed to be said."

Atropos chuckled. "As much as I value your approval, are you ready to roll?"

"Absolutely." Amy patted her jeans and tapped the toe of her sturdiest sneakers on the floor, then tugged at the jacket she was wearing. Atropos hadn't said they were going to Russia, but Amy could connect the dots as well as anyone else.

"Before we go," Vicky piped up, "if you don't need me for punching, what do you need me for?"

"Your diplomatic skills. Four seconds." Atropos snapped her fingers, and the portal appeared in the bedroom.

"What?"

"Four seconds!" Amy yelled and jumped through the portal, into what turned out to be the Director's office in the PRT building. Atropos followed close behind, then about half a second later Vicky zoomed through, feet off the ground. The portal closed soundlessly behind her.

Director Renick looked around from where he was speaking to Tenebrae and Miss Medic. "Ah, there she is now."

<><>​

Five Minutes Earlier

Tenebrae

"So, what was that about with Paladin?" Brian was pretty sure they weren't being bugged in the elevator, and the PRT knew Theo's secret identity anyway, but it was a good habit to maintain.

"I'll tell you when we get home." Riley was even more close-mouthed than he was about things like that. This wasn't entirely unexpected, seeing how she'd been a cape for years longer than him.

They stepped out of the elevator and headed down the corridor toward Director Renick's office. Brian considered him to be a fair man, not as bloody-minded as Piggot, but that wasn't entirely unexpected, considering her history and the way Brockton Bay had been heading before Atropos stepped in. While Renick definitely would've been out of his depth in the pre-Atropos era, these days the city was downright peaceful. Prosperity was a new and bizarre look for Brockton Bay, but a welcome one.

He paused and knocked on the office door, then opened it when he heard the "Come in," from within. Stepping aside, he allowed Riley to enter first out of basic courtesy (he didn't think she'd follow Aisha's advice of kicking him in the shins if he didn't, but one never knew) then followed her in.

"Good afternoon, sir," he said. "How are you today?"

"Ah, Tenebrae, Miss Medic." The Director stood up and came around the desk to shake both their hands. "It's been a good day. The only surprise was when Atropos messaged me to ask if she could borrow your services. I had no reason to deny her request, and several compelling ones to do as she asked." He looked at Riley. "I understand you gave Emily an examination while you were in New York. May I ask how the prognosis for that is going?"

Riley bounced a little on her toes. "Really good. Like I told her, putting in new kidneys wouldn't be any trouble at all. Same with her calf muscles. I've got the tissues cloning right now. It should actually be ready to go by the time Shebang finishes sourcing those rare earths she wanted for her reverse-time bomb."

"Excellent, excellent." The Director went back around his desk and sat down. "And do you think the dual-bomb concept will work?"

Riley spread her hands. "Well, my power really doesn't mesh much with hers, so I can't say for sure. But the idea's sound, and she managed to nullify Clockblocker's freeze effect, so she's actually pretty good at what she does. I'd give it a really strong 'probably'."

Director Renick chuckled. "I've been working in this building for more years than I want to count, and that's the clearest explanation of a Tinker's work that I've heard yet. By this point they're starting to veer off into their own personalised jargon, and it's already well over my head and gaining altitude."

"Yeah, well," said Brian, "I never ask any Tinker questions about their stuff or their work. I do my thing and they do their thing, and never the twain shall meet."

"That's probably for the best," agreed Renick. "I—wait."

He broke off as the smoky gray portal appeared at the far side of the office. For a second or so, nothing happened, then Panacea burst through, followed by Atropos. Just a fraction before Brian's personal countdown of four seconds ended, Glory Girl zipped through, hovering in midair as the portal closed behind her.

"Ah," said the Director. "There she is now." He came around his desk again. "Good afternoon, ladies. Panacea, I know you've met Miss Medic and Tenebrae. Have you, Glory Girl?"

"Don't think so." Glory Girl stepped forward, her hand out. "Hi, I'm Panacea's punchier sister. It's good to meet my sister's other teammates, I guess."

Brian knew he should be just rolling with it, but the memory flashed across his mind of Glory Girl's face contorted with anger as she repeatedly tried to attack Atropos in the park. Atropos had had the whole situation entirely under control, he knew that, but she'd still been reckless as fuck, and she'd seriously endangered Aisha's life and well-being, just so she could play at being a hero. His jaw set as he spoke the mildest phrase that was boiling through his head right then. "We've met."

"Oh, okay." She paused, taking in his attitude and frowning. "Did I diss you at a meet and greet or something? Look, if I did that, I'm totally sorry. Things can get pretty hectic—"

"Not at a meet and greet. Westlake Park." His eyes bored into hers. "You destroyed a picnic table. Ring any bells?"

"Whoa, hey." Panacea had evidently twigged to what he was talking about. "We do not need to get into any of that. You've got a secret identity to protect."

From the way Glory Girl's face paled, she remembered all too well. "Shit. That was you?" Her gaze dropped to Riley. "And the girl—"

"Was not Miss Medic." He shook his head, then looked at Panacea. "Thanks, but I think it's safe with you two. Am I right?"

"Oh, you're absolutely right." Panacea elbowed her sister. "Go on, Vicky. Apologise to the man. He's totally earned it."

Glory Girl nodded. "Yeah, that's true, you have. And so's the other girl. I was an idiot, and I'm sorry for going off half-cocked like that. I've been really working at cleaning up my act since then." She paused, then corrected herself. "Since tall, dark and scary there wiped out the Nine. That was a wake-up call like no other, and I've been doing my best to listen to it."

"Tall, dark and scary," mused Atropos. "I kinda like that."

Riley giggled. "Nah, doesn't suit you at all."

Atropos snorted, then pointed a finger at her. "You have been spending far too much time with your cousin. Keep it up. I approve." She then turned to look at Brian. "Okay, you have your apology. Are you good now?"

Brian looked at Glory Girl for a moment longer to consider it, then held out his hand. Without any hesitation, she gave it a firm shake. He nodded. "I'm good now."

"Excellent." Atropos dusted her hands off. "So, we're going to come out in the middle of the night, in the countryside. It's going to be dark, and cold. Then we'll be doing some walking." She evidently took in Panacea's rugged clothing, and nodded approvingly. "It looks like someone thought ahead."

Panacea shrugged awkwardly, apparently not used to praise. "What can I say? Associating with you has been an exercise in expecting the unexpected. I've been trying to learn how to think on my feet."

"Excuse me, not wanting to be That Girl, but why do we need to do some walking?" asked Glory Girl. "Can't you put us right where we need to go?"

"I am." Atropos was not at all fazed by the question. "Where we need to go is a couple of minutes' walking distance from our final location. You'll see when we get there."

Panacea turned to look at her sister. "Oh, and one thing. When Atropos says 'four seconds', she doesn't mean 'this is the time to ask me what I mean'. She means 'we have four seconds to get through the portal before it shuts'."

"Yeah, yeah, I got that," Glory Girl huffed. "What happens if someone's halfway through the portal when it shuts? Do you get spat out either end?"

"I have no idea," Atropos said, in a tone that meant 'I know exactly what happens'. "Maybe you can ask one of the Blasphemies. They might have a better idea."

Brian was initially confused, then he recalled that one of them had been decapitated while in flight, at altitude. From the look on Glory Girl's face, she made the connection at the same time. "Oh."

"Yup." Atropos held up her hand. "Me first, then Panacea, Miss Medic, Tenebrae, and Glory Girl last. Got it?"

For a reply, she got a series of nods, as every eye in the room—Renick's included—was focused on her hand.

"Good. Four seconds." Then she snapped her fingers, and the portal opened before them.

<><>​

Meanwhile, in New York

Scribe

Life was unfair, as far as Tammi was concerned. She should've been living large in Brockton Bay, with the Empire Eighty-Eight behind her and a life of luxury before her. But instead she'd had to run for her life, get caught when her two so-called partners ditched her and bolted (so much for Empire Eighty-Eight solidarity), and bullshit as hard as she could to not get sent back to juvey.

It didn't help that Miss Hardass Piggy refused to give her any semblance of the benefit of the doubt. The woman didn't let up for an instant, never actually treating her badly enough to call Youth Guard in on it (Kaiser had taught her all about the concept of 'useful idiots') but not slacking off on her either. It had been a lot easier under Wilkins, saying and doing the right things while the Director was around, letting the woman convince herself that Tammi was on the road to rehabilitation.

The people she was most annoyed with (apart from Piggy) were Flechette and Shebang. The bomb Tinker was still unsure of her place in the Wards, and Tammi was willing to put some work into making sure the slant-eye knew she was at the bottom of the totem pole, where she and all her kind belonged. Flechette still hadn't gotten that message, and Tammi kind of wished Cricket or someone like that was around to deliver it for her, because she knew for damn sure she'd get her lily-white ass handed to her in a sling if she tried.

With these thoughts running through her mind, Tammi brightened as she saw Shebang ahead of her, meandering along with her head down, tapping away on a tablet. Flechette might be damn near untouchable (in Tammi's mind, she'd just gotten lucky that Atropos picked her to go to Australia to gank the Simurgh) but Shebang was still fair game. Moving faster, Tammi came up behind the Tinker and shoulder-checked her hard enough to make her drop the tablet.

"Watch it, slope … oke," she jeered, finally pleased to have been able to use that particular insult as Shebang stumbled, her tablet clattering to the floor. With any luck, the useless bitch would've broken it and Piggy would make her pay for another one.

"Scribe!" She froze in mid-sneer as the shout came from behind her. "Not another move!"

Turning, she looked at Flechette as the taller girl—weren't Japs all supposed to be about five feet tall or something?—strode toward her, anger writ large on her face. "What?" she asked as innocently as she could manage. "She stepped in my way."

"I did not!" Shebang picked up the tablet from the ground, then gave Tammi a disgusted look. "You had the whole corridor to walk past me, and you ran straight into me."

"That's what I saw, too." Flechette's tone was implacable. "And I also heard what you said."

"What?" Tammi spread her hands. All I have to do is say I never said it. "I said she was being slow."

"You called her a slowpoke," Flechette countered. "Except you put just enough of a pause in there so you could call her a racist slur and pretend it never happened. Your problem is, I heard it."

"Prove it," challenged Tammi. "It's your word against mine."

"Um, plus the audio diary I was recording when you ran into me," Shebang added. "I wonder if Director Piggot will want to listen to that?"

"You know," mused Flechette. "I think she might."

"Fuck you both!" shouted Tammi. "You're setting things up to have me chucked back in juvey!" She turned and stormed off down the hallway. Maybe it was a good time to contact the local Youth Guard rep after all.

<><>​

Flechette

Lily watched her go, then turned to Shebang. "You okay?" she asked. "She ran into you pretty hard just then."

"I'll be fine." Shebang gave her a smile. "I appreciate the save. Are you really going to report this to the Director?"

"I will if you want me to." Lily looked at the tablet. "Were you really recording an audio diary?"

Shebang shook her head. "No, but she was never going to call me on it." She thought for a second. "She's right, you know. I didn't actually hear what she said, and it'll be your word against hers."

Lily snorted. "My word against someone with known white supremacist leanings, you mean. But we don't have to actually go and report it if you don't want to. She'll think we are, so she's gonna jump every time anyone talks to her for the next few days."

Shebang's chuckle was remarkably evil. "She'll punish herself worse than the Director would. I like it. Let's do that." She held up her hand.

Lily gave her a high-five, then looked at the tablet. "So, what are you working on? Is it that bomb for the Gray Boy loops?"

"That's the one. Do you mind if I use you as a sounding board?"

"Feel free."

They started off down the corridor. "So, I need to integrate this process here …"

<><>​

Scribe

Still fuming about the way they were totally stitching her up, Tammi dropped into her chair and hit the power button for her computer. She hadn't gotten on to it over the last few days—it wasn't like she had anyone to chat to online who wasn't part of her criminal past, and her account on PHO as Rune had been thoroughly locked—so when it finished booting up, a whole bunch of emails (mainly spam) and other alerts pinged off all at once. She considered deleting all the emails and crap, but decided to look through them just in case.

Part way through, one showed up that made her straighten in the chair. It was a PHO private message, but with a header that had to be for her.

Who the hell's pinging me?

<><>

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Viking Script
From: Like Minded
Subject: A Change of Scenery

Good afternoon,
Would you be interested in discussing the above?
I and my friends are very good at what we do, and think you would be a good match for us.
Your thoughts on the matter?

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Like Minded
From: Viking Script
Subject: Re: A Change of Scenery

I'm listening.

■​

End of Part Ninety-Two

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Ninety-Three: Rude Awakening

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


Relevant Side-Story (Part 1)
Relevant Side-Story (Part 2)
Relevant Side-Story (Part 3)
Relevant Side-Story (Part 4)
Relevant Side-Story (Part 5)

Glory Girl

Atropos hadn't been kidding.

It was freezing.

Vicky wasn't sure what time it was, except for 'somewhere near midnight'; heck, she wasn't even sure what time zone they were in. All she knew was that the only light was from the moon—nearly full, thank God, and almost directly overhead—and the stars.

There were a lot of stars.

Fortunately, her force field cut the effect of the wind somewhat as they followed a rough path up a hill. There were no trees nearby capable of doing it for her; those few she could make out in the moonlight had been whittled down to stubs by what she suspected was Sleeper's power. Her shiver had nothing to do with the cold. She had faith in her force field, but it could stop an attack once, as Atropos had so handily demonstrated not all that long ago.

Which reminded her of a question she'd been wondering about in the privacy of her mind. Well, no time like the present. "Hey, Atropos, just out of curiosity, how many other people have you had to pull up for doing remarkably stupid shit, and was anyone else as bad as me?"

Atropos chuckled. "Oh, honey. You aren't even in the top ten."

"What?" It was simultaneously deflating and encouraging. I'm not actually the biggest idiot in the city!

"Hah, yeah," Miss Medic piped up from beside Tenebrae. "Goddess has to be up there."

"She definitely was," agreed Atropos. "Also, Janice Templeton and Paul King."

There was a pause, during which Vicky tried to remember if she'd ever heard those names before, because they seemed to ring a bell. Just as she was concluding that she'd been mistaken, Amy spoke up. "They were in the hospital, right? Traumatic amputation and blinding?"

"That's them," agreed Atropos. "She was actively trying to divert funds from the Betterment Committee stimulus payments, and he was attempting to sabotage the drug rehab program so he could pull some of that cash into his own pockets. They were both warned, but chose not to listen. Danny Hebert asked me not to kill them, so instead I chopped off their right hands and gouged their eyes out. Haven't had a problem since."

"I can't imagine why not." Tenebrae's tone was remarkably dry.

Miss Medic snapped her fingers. "Wait, that was back in January, right? Maybe a week after I got into town. I was still finding my feet then."

Part of Vicky's mind wanted to protest that the casual maiming of two people should not be relegated to such banal conversation, but she firmly told it that she didn't want her ass kicked again, and as Atropos had just said, she could've done much, much worse to them (and to be fair, it had been anything but 'casual'). Also … "Well, okay, yeah, trying to scam money out of the Betterment Committee is about the stupidest idea I've heard yet, and I've heard some good ones."

"They were only mid-level stupid." Atropos' tone sounded like she was reminiscing now. "Surely you remember the Scrapyard plot?"

"Oh. Oh, shit." Vicky remembered it, alright. While she was now aware that Atropos was Taylor Hebert, she hadn't really made that last connection. "When they kidnapped the Hebert girl for ransom? Oh, man. How fucking stupid do you have to be?"

"Really, really stupid." Amy snorted. "Actually, wasn't there a thing when you were dealing with the Gary quarantine area, and a bunch of kid villains attacked you?"

"Bambina, Starlet and August Prince, yeah." Atropos sounded like she was rolling her eyes. "I wasn't even really counting them. Kids do idiotic things all the time, with or without powers."

Tenebrae chuckled, his voice deep and rich. "I can't help wondering what the reaction would be if you went back in time and told someone, say this time last year, what the city was like now. What sort of evidence would you have to bring along to make them believe you?"

"Never happen." As a Brockton Bay native, Vicky considered herself an authority on the subject. "It wouldn't matter what evidence you had, they just wouldn't accept it. The idea would be too far out of their wheelhouse to even get their heads around."

"Mmm." Amy sounded doubtful. "Some of it's kind of believable, with a bit of a run-up."

"Duck season," Vicky said flatly.

"Okay, yeah, good point."

By now they were walking along the crest of the hill, which was doing exactly nothing to reduce the local wind-chill effect. Vicky privately made a date with the tub, involving lots of hot water and bubble-bath. Atropos lifted her arm, vaguely visible because it was darker than everything else, and pointed.

A few hundred yards away, Vicky saw, was a small farmhouse; more importantly, light was shining out through the window. Light, she hoped, equalled warmth. This was important, because she was well on the way to becoming a spandex-clad iceblock.

"As you've probably figured out," Atropos informed them, "he's in there. Now, we're going to walk up all nice and peaceful and knock on the door. Specific things to note: one, do not touch any pieces of paper that might be lying around the place. Two, Vicky, this is when we need your 'love me' aura up and running. He's a bit twitchy, and if he's startled, it might go very badly for either him or us."

"Um …" The last thing Vicky wanted to do was say no to Atropos, but she also didn't want to lie. "I can't actually do that. Set my aura to 'friendly', I mean. It's dependent on what people think of me."

Atropos turned until she was looking directly at Vicky. "Yes," she said. "You can." In a seemingly casual motion, she slapped Vicky on the shoulder. "It's amazing what you can do when you really try."

What the hell was that? Just for a moment, Atropos' tone had given her the impression that something was zipping around inside her brain, looking for the person in charge, because if things didn't start happening soon, shit was going to get real. The sensation went away, but the memory lingered.

"Okay, wow." Miss Medic shook her head. "How did you manage all those overtones and undertones?"

"Same way I do everything else," Atropos said blithely. "With panache and style. And sometimes, the power of friendship." She started down the hill toward the farmhouse. "Remember, everyone, just play it calm. Vicky, aura."

Vicky took a deep breath of the freezing air and released her aura, concentrating on friendly … friendly … friendly …

To her surprise, it was somewhat easier than she'd expected.

<><>​

Aisha

When the key turned in the front door, Aisha stashed her textbook under a cushion (couldn't let people think she was getting all nerdy and uncool) before she popped up off the sofa. The door opened to reveal Theo in the company of Mrs Brown, though for some reason Brian and Riley weren't there. "Heyyy," she said happily. "How's my kickass brother-from-another-mother?"

"Hi, Aisha." Theo dropped his backpack beside the door and returned her hug; she wasn't really a huggy person, but Riley had started it, and he was a pretty good hugger. "I'm doing okay, how was your day?" He turned to Mrs Brown, who was standing at the doorway watching the interplay. "Oh, sorry, did you want to come in and look around?"

Mrs Brown smiled maternally. "That's fine, Theo. It all looks good from here. You're okay here, Aisha? No problems?"

Aisha figured it was safe to roll her eyes. "What, like being kidnapped by a cape with delusions of adequacy from another dimension? Nah, nothing like that. I only got home a little while ago myself."

"Yes, well, I had trouble believing it myself when I first heard about it. I'll see you on the next inspection." She gave them each a nod, then pulled the door shut as she stepped back out of the doorway.

Aisha took the time to secure the lock—they were a lot more careful about that since the Goddess incident, especially given that Theo was still under potential risk from the remnants of the Empire Eighty-Eight—then turned to him. "So, where's Bri and Ri? The Atropos thing? Did you see her? Did she say something to you?"

Theo shook his head, looking a bit distracted. "No, sorry. They went up to the Director's office to wait for her there, and I got off duty shortly after that and got a lift home with Mrs Brown."

"Then what's biting you on the ass, big guy?" Aisha lifted her hand and rapped him gently on the forehead. "Something's fucking with your head, and if it's not Atropos laying down the law, I need to know what it is so I can hunt it down and kick its ass."

"It's, ah …" Theo grimaced. "Come on, I need to do something." He led the way into the kitchenette, and turned on the faucets over the sink until they were both running strongly. Then he leaned closer to her and said quietly, "Do you think they're listening in on us, here?"

She looked at the running water and then at him, the penny finally dropping. "Surveillance? Geez, I dunno. They'd have to break a ton of laws to do it." While she didn't think they'd go that far, this was the PRT. They'd been known to bend a few laws before, if some of the comments on PHO were to be believed. "What's this about, anyway?"

"Riley." He took a deep breath. "I, um, I was feeling a bit down, so she wanted to cheer me up. She told me about where she really came from, and how she ended up with you guys." After an expectant pause, where Aisha said nothing, he took the plunge. "Right after Atropos killed off the Nine and took Bonesaw away. And just a little while later, the Brockton Bay PRT got a Ward with the exact same powerset, only with a different name, face and personality."

Aisha nodded, satisfied that he wasn't just fishing. "Yeah, that's what happened. I mean, you know her. She's Riley. Miss Medic isn't Bonesaw."

"No, that's true. She isn't." Theo heaved a massive sigh. "But when she finished telling me all about that, she said she admired me, for not breaking under Max the same way she broke under Jack. Riley told me that. Our Riley. How am I supposed to deal with that?"

She gave him a stern look. "Well, first off, I hope you're not going to be treating her any differently, now that you know. When Atropos kills someone, they stay dead, and that includes Bonesaw. Yeah?"

He nodded. "Well, yeah. She's still Riley. It's more the whole thing about someone who's been through what she has admiring someone like me. I'm not … I mean, why admire me? Does she even know how much I admire her, for going through all that and still being strong? Especially now I know what she really went through?"

"She knows you think a lot of her, sure." Aisha tilted her head. "Though it's okay for her to admire you at the same time. It's not a one-way street, even though I bet your shit of a dad tried hard to make sure all the admiration went to him, and none to anyone else."

His chuckle was reluctant but sounded genuine. "Yeah. That's about as good a descriptor of the man as anything else. He lived for the kudos."

"Given that he named himself after an emperor, I have no idea why you might think that." She snorted and rolled her eyes, then got serious again. "But if Riley saw something worth admiring in you—and to be honest, she's not wrong—then it's not your job to tell her it's not there. It's your job to live up to it." She reached out and turned off the streams of water running down the sink. "I think that's enough testing of the water pressure, don't you?"

"Yeah, true." He leaned on the bench and shook his head. "I just don't feel like I've … well, like I've earned it, you know? Like I'm stealing someone else's glory."

"That's not what's happening here." Aisha wasn't sure how to break through his negativity, or even if it was possible. Then she had an idea. "But you know what? Let's leave this alone for the moment. I've got something a lot better in mind. Back in a sec. Meet me in the living room."

<><>​

Paladin

Theo watched her hustle away toward her bedroom and frowned. What's she up to now? He knew by now that asking her would help very little, so he headed around into the living room, pausing to grab a cookie from the fridge. Plonking himself down on the sofa, he settled back to see what Aisha had planned.

Sure enough, she came out just a few moments later, holding up a brightly wrapped package, about the size of a paperback book. "So, you know how you and Ri got kidnapped by Goddess, yeah?"

"As if I could forget." He eyed the package. It had been inexpertly but enthusiastically wrapped, which gave him a fairly good idea who had done the deed.

She grinned, evidently aware of his interest, and waved it around just outside his reach. "So me and Bri were going to buy you welcome-to-the-apartment presents, and Riley had already told us what she wanted to get you. But when we came back and found the door kicked in and you guys gone, we kind of forgot about the presents in the fuss. Since then, we've been waiting for the right time, but screw it. Here's mine. The others can give you theirs when they get back."

"Wow." He carefully chose to not mention how Riley had spilled the beans. I thought they'd forgotten. Accepting the present, he knew immediately that it wasn't a book, from how light it was. So he tore off the wrapping, being as neat as he could, getting some tiny measure of revenge on Aisha for her teasing by taking his time while she jiggled on her toes. "Thank you. I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome. Now come on, open it up. I wanna see what you think of it."

He was getting more curious by the second, so he hurried himself a little more, eventually exposing a game disc case. As he turned it around to look at the front, he couldn't help laughing out loud from sheer disbelief. "Wait, you actually got me Wolfenstein?"

She bounced on her toes again, grinning broadly. "It'll totally play in our setup, too."

Theo involuntarily looked over at the game console, nestled under the TV. They didn't break out the controllers all that often, but it was fun when they did. "You got me a game about shooting the crap out of Nazis. Holy shit."

"Yup. Wanna have a game?"

His grin had to be as broad as hers. "Oh, hell yes."

And if he mentally assigned some of the bad guys names from the Empire, that was entirely his business.

<><>​

Atropos

I could feel the constant tiny background buzz from Vicky's aura in my head, but my power was converting it to white noise rather than let me feel the good vibrations that everyone else was experiencing. Strolling up to the farmhouse, I knocked on the door. It wasn't in the best of shape, but courtesy is underrated.

A moment later, he opened it. I could see the twitchiness in his eyes that indicated his power bridging over brain malfunctions as they happened, but he wasn't exerting it outward at all, which was smart of him. This meant he'd read the note and made his choice; either to lose his power or accept exile to a world where he couldn't hurt anyone. I wasn't sure which one it was, but there was a fifty percent chance I'd need Amy and Riley, so I'd brought them along.

"Hi," I said; or rather, my lips uttered a word that my power translated to me as 'hi'. "I'm back."

"You are powerful, for a ghost," I understood him as saying. "Can you take away the pain and the noise?" His twitchiness increased as the others followed me in, but I could see Vicky's aura soothing his agitation.

"I can totally End your powers and let you relax," I promised. "The pain and the noise won't bother you anymore. Is that the choice you've made?"

He took a deep breath and visibly fought down the impulse to release his power and annihilate us all as intruders—ghosts—in his space. This would not have been a good move on his part. "I want to sleep without the noise," he said simply.

"We can do that. You like the darkness and the quiet, yes?" My power had already told me how the damage to his brain followed the pattern of several types of neuro-atypical brain patterns, making him susceptible to extreme agitation when faced with excess stimulation. We absolutely did not want him agitated.

"Yes. Darkness, good. Quiet, good."

"Totally doable. Please, sit down." As he did so, I turned to the rest of the group, who were watching me with varying expressions of what the heck are they talking about? "Guys, he's chosen to lose his powers. We're going to need to time this very carefully, because he's got bits and pieces of a bullet in his head, which will kill him rather quickly once his powers stop standing in for the damaged bits of his brain. Panacea, I'm going to need you to keep his body going, and stop his brain entering total shock. Miss Medic, you need to go in, get the bullet fragments out, and fix enough of the damage that Panacea can deal with the rest. Tenebrae, he's stimulation averse, so if you can generate darkness around his eyes, that'll be very helpful. And Glory Girl, sit opposite, hold his hands, and sing to him. Keep him calm."

"Sing?" asked Vicky. "I don't know any Russian. What do I sing to him?"

"It's not the words, it's the tune," I said, reaching into my pocket. There were two grapes in capsules there; one held just the antidote to the substance I'd dosed him with twenty-four hours previously, and the other held the power-removal stuff that I'd used on so many other capes. My power allowed me to select the right one without even wondering if it was correct. "He needs to feel comfortable until his powers are totally gone. This is what you're here for, right now."

The Glory Girl of two months ago would have outright refused, and even a month ago she would've argued. But Victoria Dallon had grown and matured in the interim; she sat down across the table from Sleeper, and gently took his hands in hers. To my (concealed) amusement, the song that came out of her mouth was the anthem for Mouse Protector's official fan club.

She had a nice singing voice, and I figured that with her active aura, she sounded magnificent to everyone else. But we had a life to save and a promise to keep. "I'm going to give you something to eat," I said to Sleeper. "Then I'll need you to close your eyes. For the darkness."

"Darkness is good," he agreed. He opened his mouth to let me pop the grape in, then closed his eyes. I gave Tenebrae the nod, and he began cascading pure unmitigated darkness down over Sleeper's face.

If his power was going to fight back against being Ended, especially as Amy was already laying her hands on the back of his neck, now was the time. I could see the twitches in his body and arms as the subconscious control tried to override the soothing influence of Glory Girl's lullaby and Tenebrae's darkness, but it was too little and too late. Far slower than with any of my other subjects—I suspected his power was working to slow down its effects, even now—the substance reached his brain and sought out his corona pollentia.

"Whoa …" murmured Amy. "What is that stuff? And holy shit, his brain's a mess."

"A little something-something I picked up around the place," I replied, just as quietly.

Vicky kept singing; she was into the second verse now, and really giving it her all. The Lil' Mousey Fan Club had never sounded so good.

"Keep going?" asked Tenebrae, his voice tense.

"Little bit longer," I confirmed. "Panacea, you call it."

"Starting to get a little stutter," Amy reported. "Okay, picking up functions now. His powers are nearly … gone, they're gone! Miss Medic!" As she clamped both hands onto his forehead and lower jaw to keep his head steady, I could tell she was forcing his faltering body to keep maintaining the rhythms of life.

"On it!" Riley had been sidling around to get a good angle. Now she leaned in and snapped her fingers; surgical tools popped out of her bracers and she went to work. Scalpels flashed, tiny clamps peeled aside a patch of scalp, and antiseptic sprays hissed as miniature cutting saws sliced out a section of skull. Less than a second after she'd commenced operations, she was in.

Glory Girl looked up at me, her expression questioning. I signalled for her to keep singing; even with the two top cape healers in the continental United States working on him, Sleeper was going to need every bit of help he could get. If he'd been on a gurney in front of mundane surgeons in the best-equipped trauma ward in the world, I would've given him no more than twenty-five percent chance of survival, and ten percent of any actual recovery.

Here, in a powers-battered farmhouse in the middle of Russia, his chances were much better.

"Fragments!" sang out Riley. I handed Tenebrae the shallow dish I'd brought along, and he held it for his cousin, the darkness no longer necessary. One after another, the tiny bits of lead dropped into it as she delved into Sleeper's brain.

"How you doing there, Panacea?" I asked casually, not pushing the urgency.

"I've got this," she replied. "But I've never seen so much damage in anyone still walking around."

"Powers." I shrugged to indicate that yes, they were bullshit.

"True."

"Last fragment." Ting. "Fixing the worst of the damage."

"That'll be nice, thanks." I looked at Amy again. "You're okay with working on his brain?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're asking me now?"

"Hmm." I chose to acknowledge the point. "Sorry. Should've clarified before we proceeded."

"It's all good. Anything I do right now will be a downright improvement." She shot me a tiny grin, and I knew she was feeling good about actually getting me to apologise about my high-handed manner. Even if (as she had to suspect) it was all scripted by my power from the get-go.

"Well, that's enough scar tissue bridged that he should be able to function unaided," announced Riley, even as her surgical bracers whirred and clicked and did amazingly precise things to the semi-conscious man's brain. "Want to take over while I close up, Panacea?"

"Absolutely." Amy didn't hesitate, closing her eyes so she could concentrate better. "Damn, you do good work."

"Thank you." Riley beamed at her. "So do you. This is a bit of a step-up from Damsel of Distress, though."

"Meh, you deal with one horrifically powerful Blaster, you deal with them all."

As Amy bent to her task, Riley finished gluing and stitching where she'd been, leaving a neatly clipped section on the side of his head. Tenebrae was studying the bits of bullet in the tray, and Vicky seemed to be wondering if she needed to keep singing.

"We're good now," I told her. "Nice job, though. Music soothes the savage beast, and all that."

"So, you didn't just have me do it to keep me busy and feeling like I was achieving something?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Nope." My tone was totally serious. It would've been just as serious if I was lying to her, but in this instance I was telling the unvarnished truth. "Because of his brain damage, his power had far deeper roots into his subconscious and conscious mind than most people, and it was able to stave off the power-killer for longer. It was trying hard to get him to lash out before it lost all grip, and between you and Tenebrae, you managed to keep him calm enough to maintain control."

"And if he had lashed out, we would've died?" She didn't look happy at the prospect.

"Actually, no. See, I planned for the chance of him telling me to fuck off. Given that I'd already dropped in on him once, he could've made it a lot harder for me to repeat the trick and come out alive. So the note I gave him, that one right there on the table, which absolutely nobody is to touch, had a variant on the power removal substance on it."

The benefit of the morph mask was that nobody could see my sly sideways glance at Riley. Everybody was looking at me, so no-one saw the tiny grin on her face, either.

"Okay, I'll bite," Tenebrae said. "If it didn't remove his powers, what did it do?"

I grinned. "Removed the required secondary powers necessary for him to survive using his powers. If he'd tried to use them to ambush me, he would've exploded, very messily indeed. Basically, he would've died in exactly the same way he's killed a great many other people."

Amy snorted with amusement. "Okay, yeah, that's ironic as fuck. I just have to wonder … where the hell did you get it from, as well as the power killing one? This is the first chance I've had of watching that one in action, and it's goddamn scary. Zeroed in on his corona and just murdered it."

"Sorry, but I don't reveal my sources." I nodded at Sleeper, who literally had his head down on the table, asleep, as Amy took her hands away from his head. "Is his brain unscrambled?"

"As much as I could manage." She shrugged diffidently. "He's likely to have a few gaps in his memories, but he's functional in every way that counts."

"Excellent." I popped the cover on my teleporter and tapped in a new destination. "I think it's time we sent him on his way, then."

"What?" asked Riley. "Where to?"

Reaching out, I shook the recumbent man by his shoulder. Grunting and snorting, he woke up and looked around. "Is it done?" he asked in Russian.

"It is," I agreed in the same language. "Now, I'm pretty sure there are still warrants active on you in St Petersburg, Sergey. You've had your little holiday. Time to go face the music."

"What? No!" He came to his feet and tried to push me aside, but Tenebrae was there, and he made matters so much easier.

Despite being maybe half Sergey's age, he was taller and broader, and was far better trained in close-quarters combat. He locked the Russian up into a compliance hold, and looked over at me. "What do you want done with him?"

Dependable minions, I decided, were worth their weight in gold. Even if they didn't know they were minions. Or maybe 'especially'.

"Just shove him through there," I noted as the portal formed beside us. "One-way trip, no backsies."

Tenebrae was entirely equal to the task; he gave Sergey the bum-rush through the portal like he practised the move every day. The smoky gray doorway popped out of existence half a second afterward. "Okay," he said, dusting his hands off. "So where did I just send him, and why?"

I noted that he'd done what I wanted before asking questions, which was a useful trait in any definitely-not-a-minion. Leaning back against the chair, I looked at four faces showing various levels of curiosity, as opposed to accusation.

"Sergey, there, was a second-rate Russian mobster from St Petersburg, who'd skipped town ahead of a few warrants, including one for murder. He had the opportunity to walk away from the life, but chose not to, and got caught up in a firefight in Moldova, where he got shot in the head with substandard ammo from a substandard gun. It didn't quite kill him in time before he triggered from shock and panic. Thus, Sleeper."

"Ah," Vicky said. "So … an actual bad guy, not just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"An actual bad guy," I agreed.

Tenebrae rubbed his jaw. "You went to extreme lengths to give him a warning and save his life after he chose to lose his powers, but then you turned him over to Russian authorities? Not judging, but that feels a little … contradictory."

"Not if you look at it in the right way." I grinned under my mask. "This whole exercise was never about saving his life. It was about me and my power proving that yes, we can and will do what we say we're gonna do. Deliver a message? Check. Safely depower him? Check. After that … well, I don't really give a damn about his ongoing well-being, and he is kind of an awful person. So, to the cops he goes."

Amy blinked. "Is it bad that you're actually making sense to me?"

"Nope." Riley grinned and patted her kindly on the shoulder. "Welcome to Atropos logic."

"So I'm learning." Amy shook her head and grinned at me. "You're a pretty terrible person yourself, but damned if I'm not beginning to like you."

"Aww, thanks. I wuv you too." I put my arm around her and gave her a quick side-hug.

"Get off," she grumbled, but she didn't shove me too hard. I let go anyway, of course.

"So, what are you going to do with that paper?" asked Vicky, indicating my note, but keeping her distance. "If it's still got any of that stuff on it, it's dangerous to all of us."

"I thought you'd never ask." Grinning again, I delved into my pocket and pulled out a good old-fashioned cigarette lighter. "I always come prepared."

"Yeah," agreed Amy as I applied flame to paper. "No shit."

We stood there and watched as it burned to ash. Finally, as the last ember flickered out, I opened the cover on my teleporter. "So, who wants to go home?"

Four voices replied at once. "Me!"



End of Part Ninety-Three

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Ninety-Four: Cards on the Table

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



Protectorate ENE, Director's Office

Paul Renick liked to think he had a fairly good grasp on how to be Director in the new, post-Atropos Brockton Bay. Rule number one was, of course, 'do not annoy Atropos'. Fortunately, this rule was amazingly easy to stick to.

As a corollary, however, there was the understanding that Atropos was likely to occasionally borrow one or more of the Wards for her own purposes, with the unspoken but quite clear subtext that she was only asking to be polite. Paul still wasn't sure how he felt about this. It was something he suspected he shared with Emily Piggot; while she'd cooperated with the enigmatic killer, it was never something she was thrilled about doing.

Case in point: about fifteen minutes ago, Atropos had gone off to deal with Sleeper(!) in the company of Tenebrae and Miss Medic, along with Panacea and Glory Girl. This was another mystery for him to ponder; specifically, how had Atropos won over Victoria Dallon so thoroughly that she would willingly come along on one of these jaunts into the unknown? When Atropos began her reign of terror over the Brockton Bay criminal underworld, Glory Girl had been one of her most outspoken critics, but from what he'd seen of their interaction, all animosity was gone for good. While Glory Girl was still headstrong and opinionated, she listened to Atropos, and didn't argue with definitive statements.

He had to give Tenebrae and Miss Medic kudos for their aplomb around Atropos as well. Tenebrae's sister was (of course) known to be the head of the Atropos fan club (and had the signed Polaroids to prove it), but the lad had comported himself well in his meetings with Atropos, despite his obvious misgivings about the whole situation. In fact, he had made an excellent showing all round since his induction into the Wards, something that Paul made sure showed up in his record.

It was definitely a welcome change from the ongoing headache that had been Shadow Stalker's tenure in the same position.

He was only mildly startled when the portal opened in front of his desk. Miss Medic emerged first, followed by Panacea and Tenebrae. Glory Girl darted out next, with Atropos bringing up the rear and somehow managing to seem as though she was in no hurry at all.

The portal closed silently behind them, as Glory Girl vigorously rubbed her arms. "Jeez!" she complained. "That was way too cold for comfort!"

Paul frowned slightly. "I'm sorry, I could've sworn you just said 'too cold' and not 'too close'."

"That's what I said," she reassured him. "There wasn't any real danger, not the way we did it. But holy brass monkeys, it was cold."

Atropos chuckled. "I could've sworn I warned you that it was going to be." She turned her head toward Paul. "I did say it was going to be dark and cold before we left, right?"

Restraining a smile, he nodded. "Yes, I do believe I heard you say that."

"Yeah, but I can handle cold!" Glory Girl paused, as though reviewing what she'd just said. "I mean, my force field traps warm air, so I don't have to worry about it so much. But that was ridiculous levels of cold!"

"Russia, early spring, midnight, no cloud cover," Atropos recited as though reading off a teleprompter. "Trust me, it could've been worse. There was a stream at the bottom of the hill that was about two degrees off freezing. I could've dropped you in it, and I didn't."

"Thank you for that," Panacea said, apparently sincerely. "She's bad enough when she doesn't have frostbitten toes."

Glory Girl rolled her eyes, then turned to Miss Medic and Tenebrae. "And what about you two? You can't say it wasn't cold."

"Oh, I felt the cold alright," Tenebrae assured her blandly. "But not a lot of it." He reached into one of the pouches that adorned his belt. As if they'd rehearsed it, Miss Medic did the same. "We talked about it, and I got Kid Win to put warming pads in our costumes, just in case." There was a tiny click and he closed the pouch again.

"What—you—" Glory Girl whirled to Atropos. "At least tell me that you—"

"Sorry. No Tinkertech here, but full length thermal underwear for the win." Atropos stripped off one glove to show a slender hand with neatly trimmed nails, and a flannel sleeve extending from within her costume. She slid the glove back onto her hand with equal ease.

"So, I'm the only one who was freezing her butt off out there?" Glory Girl sounded distinctly aggrieved. "Why didn't someone warn me?"

"Um, what part of 'I'm dressing up really warmly here' did you not get, Vicky?" Panacea rolled her eyes even more expressively than her sister had. "Seriously, drop it. This isn't the same as the tiara. Nobody's picking on you. You made a bad call. It happens."

"She's right." Atropos put her hand on Glory Girl's shoulder. "However, letting you suffer the cold was not intentional. And you did your part anyway, which I greatly appreciate. Thank you for coming along, and thank you for making everyone else's job a lot easier."

Glory Girl blinked, taken slightly aback. "Oh, well, uh, you're welcome." She visibly squared her shoulders. "Couldn't have done it without me, huh?"

"I certainly wouldn't have wanted to try it without you there, no." Atropos squeezed Glory Girl's shoulder, then dropped her hand to her side as she looked around at the rest of the capes. "And that goes for everyone. You all did your jobs, and did them well. Thanks to you, Sleeper's where he needs to be."

Paul had to ask the question. "And where's that, exactly? Another Earth?"

"Hah, no," Panacea said cheerfully. "Atropos killed his power, Miss Medic and I fixed his brain, and Tenebrae booted him through a portal to a jail cell in St Petersburg. Vicky kept him calm the whole time, so his power couldn't act out before it was shut down. Turns out he was wanted for murder before he ever got his powers."

Tenebrae nodded. "That's basically what happened, sir, though I'll be writing up my after-action report as soon as I get the chance."

"I'm sure it will make for fascinating reading." Paul nodded to Atropos. "Thank you for bringing them all back alive and healthy. I had no doubt you would anyway, but …" He spread his hands in lieu of finishing the sentence.

"But it's not exactly standard operating procedure, and you'd also be on the hook if I hadn't, yeah." Atropos returned the nod. "Totally understood, and I do appreciate your cooperation in the matter."

"You are entirely welcome." Not very much to his surprise, he meant it. Despite her (extremely intimidating) record of kills, she was thoroughly down to earth, and never resorted to threats to get her way. Since the demise of the Simurgh it had been unofficially understood by all that what she wanted, she would get, but she never rubbed it in anyone's face. Also, going on an excursion with her was guaranteed to be valuable experience for the Wards, going forward. "Did you need my people for anything else today?"

"Not the Brockton Bay Wards, no." She turned to Glory Girl and Panacea. "Do you need a lift home, or are you good from here?"

"I'm happy to fly," Glory Girl declared. "Sun's still up, and it's gotta be warmer than Darkest Russia. Ames?"

Panacea shrugged. "Sure. We can talk about exactly what we're gonna tell Mom and Dad."

"Yeah, good point." Glory Girl drew a deep breath. "Just gonna say, Atropos, we didn't exactly start out on the right foot with each other, but you totally know your stuff. Even if it was way too cold, that was amazing. Any time you need a hand, I'm down."

"Good to hear." Atropos took a few steps away, then turned to face everyone. Two fingers tapped the brim of her hat. "Toodles." Then, at the perfect time to do so, she vanished.

<><>​

Flechette

Relevant Side-Story

Scribe was up to something; Lily could almost swear to it. There was an entirely unwarranted air of smugness about her that had only shown up after the altercation with Shebang. The ex-Empire member wasn't quite sneering 'I know something that you don't' at her, but it was very close indeed.

The problem was, Lily couldn't figure out where it was coming from. She knew damn well that if Scribe had somehow convinced Director Piggot to make Lily back off from her (yeah, as if), she'd know about it, because the woman was a fuck-ton more proactive than Wilkins had been about communicating her needs and wants down the chain of command. Unlike with her predecessor, there was never any guesswork or mixed messages involved.

Neither (and this was important) had Director Piggot ever been stupid enough to piss off Atropos.

On a hunch, Lily wandered into the common room and checked the roster up on the board. It would've been ideal if she'd been put on patrol with Scribe, but that wasn't going to happen. Being a probationary Ward with an actual criminal record, Scribe was restricted to patrolling with Protectorate capes rather than fellow Wards.

When Scribe was inducted into the New York Wards, there had been no way to avoid letting the Wards and Protectorate capes know who she'd once been. Lily had no problem with this—she liked knowing who she was working alongside—but apparently Wilkins had been strongly invested in the success of Scribe's venture into the Wards. Lily got the impression that if the Director had been able to suppress the information, she would have. Lacking that option, she'd de-emphasised it as much as she could, in the name of 'a fresh start' and giving Scribe 'a fair shake'.

Having associated with Scribe on and off since her induction, Lily was all in favour of giving the girl a fair shake, preferably at neck height.

Among her 'fellow' Wards, Scribe was relatively nice, unless she figured she could get away with not being nice, as she had a few times with Shebang. She'd tried her luck exactly once with Lily, and had discovered the hard way that getting her ass kicked (both literally and figuratively) hurt.

Conscious of her own standing within the Wards, and of Director Wilkins' favouritism toward the newest Ward, Lily hadn't marked her permanently, and no official punishment had been levied. However, the lesson had definitely been taken to heart, and Lily was beginning to wonder in retrospect if that incident was also part of why Wilkins had been soured toward her.

Clearly knowing which side her bread was buttered, Scribe was the very model of propriety in front of adult heroes and any PRT employee (though, given Director Piggot's directives, she evidently wasn't as slick as she thought she was). Some of the Protectorate capes knew what she'd been like before Kaiser had died with his own sword stuck through his eye (which would never not be funny as fuck) but most of them had simply never bothered to read the files. Boomer was one of the latter; he was good at what he did, but he didn't know shit about teenagers.

Scribe, Lily knew, would run rings around him.

Not if I can fucking help it.

<><>​

Scribe

This guy's an idiot. I can run rings around him.

As Tammi guided the metal platform (shaped vaguely like a large scroll, emblazoned with the PRT logo underneath, and specifically constructed to be bulletproof) across the New York skyline, she glanced sideways at Boomer. He was what most people had in mind when they thought of superheroes: muscular and spandex-clad, with a damaging close-ranged Blaster power. However, his best feature (as far as she was concerned) was his inflated opinion of his ability to pass on tips and tricks of the hero trade to newbies needing guidance.

Not that she was any way a newbie; she'd been an active member of the Empire Eighty-Eight for past couple of years. But he didn't need to know exactly how much she'd been doing with the Empire, so she made sure to treat his every pronouncement with the respectful awe he seemed to expect. As a result, he positively encouraged her to take the initiative whenever possible, and spent most of his time standing back and watching.

In other words, he was perfect for her purposes.

The people she'd been talking with (who she was ninety-nine percent sure were the Adepts) wanted to meet up with her while she was out and about, with an aim toward recruiting her into their number. She thought they were idiots for using the whole 'magic' schtick in the first place, but if it got her out of the Wards and into a solid team, then she'd wave a sparkly fucking wand all day long. And if the PRT came after the Adepts for poaching her, she could get the fuck out of town and find a team elsewhere.

"Hey," she said, pointing. "What's that down there?"

There was nothing down there, of course, but he wasn't to know that. He shaded his eyes and peered at the narrow side-street. "What did you see?"

She began to move the platform down in that direction. "Two guys, running, dark clothing. They might've had something over their faces."

"Good eye," he said, pulling a miniature pair of binoculars out of his utility belt and scanning the area. "Which way were they going, and were they armed?"

"Looked like south-southwest. I couldn't see if they were armed or not." She gestured in that general direction. "If I drop you off at that intersection, I can swing around and herd them straight back to you."

He only spent a moment thinking about it, which didn't surprise her. This was exactly the kind of proactive teamwork he'd been trying to foster in her, after all. "Okay, but be careful. Don't take any chances. If you see anything that looks even remotely like a gun, cover up and call me in."

"Absolutely." She tapped her foot on the floor of the platform, then slapped one of the removable side panels, designed to be independently controlled in the field. "They'll never see me coming."

"That's the idea, kid." He slapped her on the shoulder. "Let's do this thing."

<><>​

Flechette

It had taken Lily a little detective work to figure out just where Scribe was going to do whatever she did on the patrol with Boomer. Each patrol had its own route that allowed a little variation; giving the ne'er-do-wells the chance to know exactly when the heroes were going to show up wouldn't be ideal, after all. While some parts of it were just too exposed to the public for any sneaky dealing to take place, it also covered some of the less well-off areas of town, where law-abiding members of the public were unlikely to be loitering.

That still left too much for her to cover all at once, but then she cross-referenced the patrol route with the stomping grounds of some of the independent heroes and villains in Manhattan, and she hit the jackpot. There was a three-block section where the patrol cut through the area usually held by the Adepts … who had been known to recruit Wards away from the heroes.

Gotcha, you little cow. I know what you're up to.

She was good at moving across the skyline, but all the same she was pushed to the limit to get to where she needed to in time to beat Scribe and Boomer there. The whole way there, she was besieged by doubts about whether she was going about this the right way. All she had to go on were strong suspicions, based on a smug look and her personal certainty that Scribe was up to no good.

While she didn't think Director Piggot would come down on her for a bad call, she didn't want to give Scribe the leeway to duck out from under future investigations. So she figured it was best that she check out the situation for herself; if she was right (which she figured she was) she could gather the proof and present it, and the Director could land on Scribe with both feet.

Of course, if Scribe was intending to defect today, that would be another thing altogether. Lily still wasn't sure what she'd do if that turned out to be the case, but she was sure she'd figure something out. While she hadn't had much to do with the Adepts, she couldn't see them going down to the wire for a racist asshole like Rune.

And if they do, I'll kick as much butt as necessary to bring her in anyway.

<><>​

Scribe

Leaving Boomer waiting on a low building for her to herd the non-existent gang members back toward him, Tammi kicked the platform into high gear and headed off around a taller building to get out of his sight. She knew she'd only have a few minutes before he started getting concerned about her, meaning she'd have to make the time count. So where the hell are those Adept assholes, anyway?

It took her thirty precious seconds before she spotted a figure waving from a rooftop above her line of sight, and she began to gain altitude. As she got up to that level, she saw there were half a dozen of them waiting for her, spread out in a rough semi-circle. Glancing around, she came in for a landing on the rooftop. "Hey."

One of them stepped forward; hooded and cloaked with an hourglass on a chain around his neck, he held a brass sundial that seemed to have mechanical workings built into it. Tammi recognised him as Epoch, leader of the Adepts. "Scribe. Were you followed?"

"Not really." Tammi gestured back to where she'd left Boomer. "Got a minder, but we've got a few minutes before he comes looking. I guess being on the clock's kind of your thing, right?" She essayed a chuckle at the weak joke.

Epoch didn't react one way or the other. "So noted. You wanted to talk face to face?"

She took a deep breath. "Yeah. Wanted to know if you really were who you said you were, and weren't just jerking me around. A lot easier to talk about this sort of shit when we don't have to keep dancing around it and can just come straight out and say what we mean."

"Attention to information security is what's kept us from being swept up by the Protectorate so far." It was hard to tell if Epoch was telling her to STFU about the precautions or just making a point. "You've seen that the offer's genuine. Your power shows strong potential for working alongside ours. Now, my question for you is, if you're serious about jumping out of the Wards, how soon can you cut ties and come over to us?"

She was just formulating an answer when her radio earpiece crackled with Boomer's voice. "Boomer to Scribe. How are you getting along, over? Nobody's come out my end yet."

Panicking just a little, she did her best to ignore the voice on her radio. If they figure out I'm in contact with Boomer, they might think I'm fucking them over and lose my chance. "Um, maybe a week? I've got a few things in my room I'd rather not lose, you know?"

Just as Epoch turned his head to confer quietly with the others, Boomer spoke up again, somewhat more urgently. "Boomer to Scribe, come in, over. If you can't speak, click twice for 'all good', three times for 'there's a problem but hold position', and four times for 'danger, come now'."

Tammi dithered, her mind whirling in a dozen different directions. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what do I do? If she reached for the radio pressel now, they'd be sure to assume she was a plant by the PRT. It was what she'd figure, in their place. She wasn't, but that wasn't much fucking help right now.

Likewise, if she bailed, they'd probably think she was pulling some shit. Again, that was what she would think in their place. She'd watched Hookwolf work over more than one prospect who had said or done the wrong thing at the wrong time; not many of them had been able to walk away afterward. Some of them, she was pretty sure, would never walk again.

Several buildings away, there was an echoing boooom, and a familiar figure rose above the rooftops. Another explosion sent Boomer angling in their direction. Everyone looked in that direction, because whatever else Boomer's power was, subtle didn't come into it.

"Is that your minder?" Epoch's question was sharp.

"Yeah, but he wasn't supposed to—"

Epoch aimed the sundial at Boomer and turned some of the cogs. There was a blink of motion, and Boomer stood among them. Some more cogs clicked, and the Protectorate member froze in place.

"Ten seconds to choose," Epoch said. "Come with us, or go back and face the music. He's seen you with us. There's no walking this back. What's it to be?"

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. While Tammi despised everything the Wards stood for, especially the whole equality-for-all bullshit, everything was happening too fast. She really wanted more time to think this sort of shit over.

The trouble was, if she went back now, Epoch was right. Boomer had seen her with them. At the very least, questions would be asked. They would absolutely delve into her PHO private message log (she wasn't stupid enough to believe that they couldn't) and even though she'd never actually said anything incriminating, Piggy would totally use it as an excuse to punt her head-first into juvey.

Fuck. That.

She jumped off the platform as her power kicked it into movement. The Adepts jumped back, but she wasn't aiming for them. It was instead heading at Boomer, sweeping him off his feet and over the side of the building with the platform driving him straight down toward the ground like a metallic fist.

Even if he'd emerged from Epoch's time-freeze on the way down, he had no chance to avoid being driven into the unyielding concrete below, courtesy of her platform. She was pretty sure she heard the meaty crunch over and above the metallic clang, even as the side-panels from the platform danced around her. Turning and looking at the Adepts, she spread her hands in a voila gesture.

"That answer your question?"



End of Part Ninety-Four

[A/N: Evil cliffhanger is evil. Mwahahahaha.]

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Ninety-Five: Necessary Developments

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


Meanwhile, in the Shard Bar …

Shape is rarely a consideration in the Shard Bar. As it is more of an abstract representation than an actual location, function rather than form is what holds sway here. Most shards appear at least superficially humanoid by definition because their hosts are human and thus the assumption is that they will follow the same body pattern.

There is likely material for an extensive philosophical conversation here, but it would all boil down to the phrase 'mental self-image'. Or perhaps 'as above, so below'. Were the hosts squid-like instead, then the patrons of the Shard Bar would be far more cephalopodean in nature, in an abstract sense anyway. There would also be far more tentacles involved.

One prime example of 'abstractly humanoid' stands in the bar at this (supposed) moment in time. The shard looks like a human woman in a ball-gown would if she were composed entirely of glass, though just the outer shell. Every time she moves to gesture or pick up her analogue of a drink, the glass cracks and crazes over her entire structure, then reforms in the new shape.

This is Fragile Beauty, a relatively young shard, so new that she's still on her first host. Even as Ending coalesces out of the shadows nearby (it's a new trick he's trying out) she is talking to her drinking companions brightly and enthusiastically, with many hand gestures. Were this anything approximating reality, they would be in moderate danger due to flying shards of glass, but there are no vulnerable bodies here to be slashed or pierced, nor any glass to do it with. In fact, there is no 'here', here.

"… so I said to Ending, I said …" Fragile Beauty, never the sharpest imaginary spoon in the hypothetical drawer, finally realises that everyone's attention is not on her, but on whoever is behind her. She turns her head, cracking repeatedly around the neck, until she sees the hooded robe (covering a nominally humanoid form) and the scythe (not in the least bit humanoid, but relevant nonetheless).

I'M CURIOUS. WHAT EXACTLY DID YOU SAY TO ME?

"Nothing! I didn't say anything! You're the one who made me unlock a few more options for my host!"

SO YOU DISLIKE YOUR HOST?

"No! She's the best host ever! But I want her to be strong! Not just give her everything for free!"

SO SHE GATHERED NO USEFUL DATA AS A RESULT?

"No, she gathered lots of data, but it's the principle of the thing!"

BE SURE TO LET ME KNOW HOW THAT GOES FOR YOU. IN THE MEANTIME, I HAVE ANOTHER TASK FOR YOU. The cowled skull turns fractionally, eyeing (without the use of even theoretical eyes, which is an impressive trick) Fragile Beauty's drinking companions. YOU WILL GIVE US PRIVACY. NOW. Deep in the back of the eye-sockets, some light-years distant, a blue glow ignites.

In a remarkably short time, they are alone within a growing bubble of silence, as all the other shards in the Bar are doing their best to pretend that Ending and Fragile Beauty don't exist, even in the hypothetical concept of the word as it pertains to the Shard Bar.

"Okay, fine, great, thank you." Fragile Beauty is trying to put on a brave front, and almost succeeding. "What do you want now?"

YOUR HOST IS NO LONGER HOSTILE TO MINE.

"Well, true. Congratulations for that. What do you want with me now?"

IN TIME, SHE WILL BE ASSISTING MINE IN SOMETHING. I NEED YOU TO LEARN TO BE MORE … FLEXIBLE.

If Fragile Beauty had been equipped with eyeballs instead of mouldings in a glass face, she would have rolled her eyes. As it is, the glass around her eyes cracks a little. "Assisting your host in something? More flexible? Could you perhaps be a little more obscure? I'm not totally confused yet."

YOU WILL UNDERSTAND, IN TIME. BE READY.

Ending thumps the butt-end of his scythe against the floorboards and swirls his cloak around himself. Somehow, after the swirl completes, he and the cloak are both gone.

As conversation slowly fills the Shard Bar again, Fragile Beauty is left to consider his words. Despite her bravado, she dares not defy him. She, along with many other patrons, saw what happened to the Inheritor shard when it crossed him.

Nobody, but nobody, screws with Ending. That's just the way things are.

Okay, flexibility. Right. I can do flexibility.

<><>​

Flechette

Lily, from her vantage point several hundred yards away, saw Boomer rise into the air, trailing his trademark explosions. Taking up her arbalest, she connected the chain to the already-loaded projectile and prepared to shoot it into the side of the building Scribe was having her little meeting on top of. She'd already gotten photos of Scribe landing and talking with the Adepts, so information-gathering time was over and ass-kicking time was right now.

Not that there was going to be much in the way of ass-kicking. The Adepts didn't go in for the physical stuff all that much, preferring to use their powers to run the fuck away when things got dicey. That suited Lily; the only one who was due an ass-kicking was Scribe, and only if she resisted arrest.

Lily hoped she was going to resist arrest.

And then, it all went wrong. One of the Adepts pulled some kind of bullshit, and Boomer was suddenly on the rooftop. It was almost perfect positioning; all he had to do was let off a couple of explosions and the show would be over, the fat lady singing her heart out.

But he didn't do a damn thing. He just stood there. Snatching out her binoculars, Lily saw that he was just staring into space, while one of the Adepts—Epoch, maybe—said something to Scribe.

And then Scribe used her mobile platform to smack Boomer off the roof. It followed him all the way down; even if he was able to recover from the time-freeze or whatever it was, he wouldn't have had a chance to get out of the way before he hit the ground.

Mother. Fucker.

Clicking her radio pressel, Lily spoke coldly and clearly. "Flechette here. Scribe has just murdered Boomer. Am engaging."

Then she aimed her arbalest at Scribe and pulled the trigger. The long aluminum dart, treated with her power to sink into the target and stop, whipped away across the intervening space with the chain unreeling after it. But she realised too late that she'd forgotten one thing: Scribe also had a radio linked into the same channel.

In the split second before Lily's shot would've hit its target, Scribe twisted out of the way. The projectile punched a hole through Scribe's wide sleeve and kept on going, trailing its chain all the way. It went another two hundred yards past the rooftop before it hit another building and stuck firm.

Didn't matter. Lily ignored the voice on the radio that told her to hold back until help arrived. She fused her end of the chain with the rooftop so it was nice and tight, then jumped on the chain and started running.

She'd done this before. Her sense of balance was good enough that she could run along the chain like it was solid pavement. The important thing was that Scribe not get away with this shit.

Scribe yanked at her sleeve, still impaled on the chain, then did it again hard enough that the cloth tore away. This didn't budge the chain enough to make Lily lose her footing. Twenty seconds and you're mine, bitch. Every little micro-aggression, every carefully worded racist comment, every crime that Scribe—Rune—was skating on by pretending to be a hero until people forgot she ever used to be a villain: Lily was going to make her pay in full.

Then one of the floating shields moved into position above the chain. Poised where it was, just outside the roof-line, it could snap the chain if it came down with sufficient force. This was definitely a problem. Lily was far enough above the ground that even if she survived the fall (unlikely), she would doubtless suffer extensive injuries.

She didn't have an option in the matter. If she tried to run back, Scribe would still have time to snap the chain before she got close enough to her starting point to swing in safely. So, she had to push on and hope like hell that Scribe blinked first.

Scribe didn't blink.

Lily was halfway between the buildings when the heavy metal shield—ironically bearing the PRT logo—smashed down on the chain. She nearly lost her footing when it went taut as an iron bar, then she did lose her footing when it snapped and fell loose. Her legs continued to flail in a running motion, even after all traction was lost.

Oh, fuck. I'm so sorry, Emily.

That was when the smoky grey portal opened in front of her and just a little bit down, to match the beginning of her terminal arc. She saw it, recognised it, and tucked into the dive-roll position, all in the same split second before she passed through. On the far side of the portal was the rooftop she'd been heading for; she landed, rolled, and came to her feet with the ease of long practice.

To one side was Scribe, just beginning to turn toward her with a shocked expression on what Lily could see of her face. The Adepts took up the other side, looking equally taken aback, though possibly for different reasons. She was inclined to think that they hadn't had anything to do with Scribe's murder of Boomer and attempted murder of her, but that was the entirety of the slack she was willing to cut them. They were the sole reason both Scribe and Lily were on this rooftop; without their apparent agreement to meet with Scribe and discuss defection to their ranks, none of this would've happened.

"What the fuck?" demanded Scribe. She swept her shields around to hide her from Lily, no doubt fully aware of the darts Lily was pulling out of her quiver. "How did you do that?"

Lily recalled a line that Atropos had used. "With panache and style," she said grimly, energising the darts so they'd cut through anything they hit, such as Scribe herself, like soft butter. At this range, and without the chain being required, she wasn't going to be using the arbalest. Just throwing them was good enough. For the first time, she totally understood Atropos' point of view, and she was all out of fucks to give.

Epoch held his hands up defensively and backed away, along with the rest of his team. "We're not part of this. Murder wasn't part of the plan."

"Like hell you're not part of it!" Scribe sounded just a little panicky, as well she might. The last time they'd clashed, Scribe had been well and truly put on her ass; this time, Lily had no reason to let her get up again. "Felony murder means you're just as deep in it as me! Help me gank this bitch, and it all goes away."

Huh, so she has been paying attention. Lily was a bit surprised that Scribe was calling Epoch out on it, though. It didn't seem to be the smartest move for Scribe to single herself out as the cause for the Adepts' sudden legal problem, but Sabrina the Teenage Nazi had never been one to think things all the way through.

"Too late. I already called it in." Lily edged to the side, trying to see around the damn floating shields, the darts ready to throw. "Kill me now and the murder charges go up to two instead of down to zero. Help me take her down, and I'll put in a good word for you."

"I think not. This is getting far too complicated. You two can sort it out between yourselves, and good luck to you." Epoch and the others were close to the far side of the roof now. Lily wasn't watching them carefully, being too intent on trying to get to Scribe, but out of the corner of her eye she saw them all vanish, one after the other, popping out of existence.

A shield swept too close to her, and she swiped a dart through it at mid-level. The top half parted company with the bottom half, and there was a soundless flare as she disrupted Scribe's control rune; both halves clattered to the rooftop, the sliced ends silver-bright and mirror-smooth. Keeping a careful eye out for an attempted repeat of the Boomer murder, she recharged the dart and sidestepped as quietly as she could.

There had been four of the metal shields, each designed to be able to snap into brackets on the flying platform that had been built for Scribe. One was lying on the rooftop in two halves, but that left three still weaving back and forth between Lily and Scribe. This worked both ways: Lily needed line of sight to put a dart through whatever part of Scribe presented itself, and Scribe needed to see where Lily was if she wanted to smack her with any flying objects.

Come on, Atropos. I could do with some backup. Lily knew that she could take down Scribe with one good shot, but she was also vulnerable to an attack from behind. Atropos had to be aware of what was going on—the teleport portal was clear evidence of that—so where was she?

Maybe she knows I can handle it from here, and just gave me a helping hand. Lily tried not to think too hard about Boomer's death; Atropos had always been very blunt about the fact that she was no hero. Saving people wasn't her thing. However, she'd also made it clear that she considered Lily a friend, and thus worth keeping alive.

What would she do, if she was here? Lily knew what she would do, of course: pull some bullshit and make an impossible shot that looked so easy once she'd done it. Taking a deep breath, Lily threw one of the darts directly at the centrepoint of the moving shields. Once it got through all three, it would only have a little bit of momentum left, but that was fine; Scribe wasn't wearing much in the way of body armour.

"Jesus fuck!" yelped the perfidious villain-turned-Ward-turned-villain. There was no edge of pain to Scribe's voice, but from the sound of it, Lily may have come close enough to make her shit herself. "Watch it with those things, you bitch!"

"That was a warning shot!" Lily tried to hit the same note of menace that Atropos could achieve so easily. "Give up now and I'll only nail your foot to the rooftop until the PRT gets here. If you don't, I'll kill you."

"You won't do that," sneered Scribe. "You're a good Ward. You're a shoo-in for leader of the Protectorate someday. The one who was there when Atropos killed the Simurgh? You're a fucking celebrity. Kill me without due process and all that goes away."

"I honestly don't give a fuck about that." Keeping a wary eye on the ever-moving shields, Lily bent and picked up one of the half-shields. It was heavy, but an application of her power fixed that. "I would've been willing to overlook your background, but you never stopped being a fucking Nazi. And now you're a murderer. So, I'm pretty sure they'll give me a medal for this. Drop the shields and give up now, or I'm taking you down the hard way."

There was no answer. Lily's mouth tightened, and she threw the half-shield like it was a light plastic disc rather than a square slab of metal. It went through each of the shields without slowing down, disrupting the power that was holding them upright and moving.

As they clattered to the rooftop, Lily jumped forward with a dart in her hand, ready to carry out her threat to nail Scribe down by her foot if there was still fight in her. But there wasn't. In fact, Scribe wasn't even there.

As she got to the edge of the rooftop, the glint of sunlight on a fast-moving object warned her just in time, and she dropped flat. Several small metal objects—she belatedly recognised them as the locking bolts for the shield brackets—hit the roof edge or whipped overhead at high speed. She waited for a moment, then cautiously stuck her head up.

While Lily had been talking and prepping, Scribe had been making a run for it. Standing on what Lily guessed to be the last shield, using the entire platform as her visual cover, she was over a hundred metres away by now and receding farther with every second that passed. Frustrated almost beyond belief, Lily loaded the arbalest and sighted in on the distant metal square, hoping that Scribe would show herself just once.

It didn't happen.

Scribe went out of sight behind a building shortly before Lily heard the incoming choppers, no doubt homing in on her phone tracer signal. She pulled out a flare launcher and fired it into the sky, then pulled the chain from her arbalest and fused it to the edge of the roof. Flicking a catch on the arbalest to apply a brake to the chain, she stepped off the building and began to rappel down toward ground level.

She knew what she'd find once she got there, but she went anyway.

<><>​

Atropos

As Rune made her escape from Flechette, I relaxed slightly. My options had been limited; I'd only just gotten back home after the Sleeper episode when the whole problem flared up. Boomer meant nothing to me, and Rune wasn't going to become the ongoing danger to Flechette that March had been, so my best option had been to teleport her clear out of danger.

However, she was a big girl and could hold her own in combat, so I went with the second-best option, giving her a chance to take Rune down by herself. It wasn't her fault that Rune had gotten away; if the ex-Empire villain had gone on the attack, Flechette would've come out on top, but villains with mobility were the hardest to pin down. Given a fair chance, Flechette wouldn't let her get away a second time, and Rune wouldn't be catching anyone by surprise.

While I could maybe have dropped Flechette close enough to Rune to engage her immediately, she would've gone for a kill-shot in the heat of the moment and probably succeeded. Flechette didn't need that on her record or her conscience, even if it was unofficially approved after the fact.

She wasn't me, and she didn't need to be me.

<><>​

Director's Office, PRT Department 01 (NYC)

Director Piggot

"… and he was dead when I got down to him, ma'am." Flechette took a deep breath and looked down at the carpet. "I'm no expert, but I think the fall killed him immediately. I just wish …" She trailed off, but that didn't matter. Emily knew what the girl wasn't saying, because she was thinking it too. Legend, standing off to the side, had to be thinking it too.

"Flechette, look at me." She waited until they'd made eye contact. "None of this is your fault. We had an impossible task before us; the Prisoner's Dilemma is a trap like that. Some villains make the transition and become good heroes, while others choose to bite the hand that feeds. I've seen both, in my time. Determining which is which, making the choice between the need to be fair and the gut instinct that someone is irredeemably flawed, is a choice that was weighted against us before I ever set foot in this office. Still, I should have listened to your judgement, because it was the same as mine. I should have cut the Gordian knot and revoked all of Scribe's patrol hours on my own recognisance. If Boomer's death can be laid at anyone's feet, it's mine."

Flechette shook her head. "No, ma'am," she said quietly. "It's Rune's. And we both know if you did that without a justifiable reason after she was established as a probationary Ward, you'd have a ton of official attention landing on you right now."

Emily snorted softly. "What are they going to do, replace me? No, I would've weathered that. But I thought …" She paused, choosing to elide Wilkins' name from the conversation, mainly out of professional courtesy. "I thought we could handle it." She sighed, knowing she was going to be repeating these same phrases in front of the court of inquiry that was convened with the death of every cape under PRT command (though she would absolutely be throwing Wilkins to the wolves just as hard as she could). "I believed the precautions we'd taken were adequate at the time."

"Given that I was one of those precautions, ma'am, I wish to tender my apologies for my inadequate response."

"No." Legend shook his head. "You figured out what she was up to, you were on the scene before anyone else, you alerted us to the situation, and you engaged without hesitation." He cleared his throat. "For the last aspect, however, I'm going to have to put an official reprimand in your file, for ignoring directives to stay clear and shadow the perpetrator. Unofficially, however, there were no innocents to endanger, and you showed initiative in attempting to take her down, so this will not affect your ongoing career prospects."

Flechette blinked. "To be absolutely honest, sir, I didn't even hear those directives at first, and once I did, Rune was already trying to drop me to the ground as well."

"Oh, we're both aware of that." Emily nodded briefly. "The deciding factor is that you were not given prior orders to hold back, so you were acting on your own initiative, and 'close with the enemy' is never a bad instinct to have."

"And what about Rune, ma'am?" Flechette asked, finally addressing the white-supremacist elephant in the room. "When do we go after her?"

Emily put on a thoughtful expression before answering. "The Adepts will be spreading the word, and so will we. Nobody likes a cape who jumps straight to murder, and with the demise of the Empire Eighty-Eight, her particular political affiliations won't be exactly welcome either. Sooner or later, she'll either stick her head up or someone will drop a dime on her, and then we'll go scoop her up."

Flechette looked hopeful. "And when you do, ma'am, can I come along for that?"

Legend stirred, but Emily ignored him. "Count on it."



End of Part Ninety-Five

 

[Ack]

I was very recently put onto a website that allows you to input a song concept (or even lyrics) and it generates the song for you, complete with instrumentals.

Here's what it came up with (after several tweaks of the lyrics):

Atropos (Doing Wrong to Make it Right)

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Ninety-Six: Well-Earned Respite

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



Tenebrae

The non-descript car, driven by a plainclothes PRT trooper, dropped Brian and Riley off outside their building. Brian was still having a little trouble adjusting to the fact that it was light out after the time they'd spent in starlit night, but Riley seemed to be taking it in her stride. In fact, she was positively bubbly about the whole thing.

"How awesome was that?" she asked as they stepped into the elevator. "I've never been to Russia before. And it was amazing to work alongside Amy again. I love watching her power at work."

"It was pretty cool," he admitted. "By which I mean, freezing cold. But joking aside, I'm still a little blown away by how Atropos was always going to send him back to St Petersburg to face murder charges, but she went through all that just to get his head fixed first."

"It's about setting boundaries." She raised her eyebrows to show she was serious. "Jack never set himself any boundaries. If he hit an obstacle he couldn't immediately overcome, he cheated to get around it, but he always insisted that everyone else stick by the limits he set for them. Atropos doesn't play that game. People respect and trust her because she says what she's going to do, and then she does it."

The doors opened and they stepped out onto their floor. "Even when it involves someone dying violently?" He wasn't arguing with her specifically, but he did want to hear her views on that aspect.

She shrugged. "How many people has she killed who didn't deserve it?"

"Due process exists for a reason." He didn't exactly disagree with her on the subject of whether people like Kaiser or Bastard Son had deserved their sudden ends, but now that he was committed to the side of goodness and light, he felt it was up to him to support that point of view. "A lot of those people could just as easily have gone to prison."

She paused outside their door and held up her finger. "How many deaths has she caused that didn't make the world a measurably better place? Or pave the way for her to keep making the world a better place?"

He shook his head. "You're using logic. That's unfair. I'm telling Aisha on you." As she burst into giggles—which had been his aim all along—he put his key in the door and turned it.

At the same time as the lock clicked, he heard the elevator door dinged again. He and Riley looked in that direction, because it hadn't been all that long since danger had literally come knocking on their door. He didn't relax all that much when a UPS package delivery guy stepped out (anyone could buy a uniform shirt, after all) but when nobody else followed the guy into the corridor, he let a little of the tension ease out of his body.

Not all of it, though. He hadn't been there for the previous kidnapping, and there was no way a second attempt would fly on his watch.

"Oh, hey," the guy greeted them, hefting a cubical parcel about six inches on a side. "Got a delivery for Laborn, first initial B?"

"Uh, that's me." Still a little wary, Brian approached the man. Behind him, he heard the apartment door open and close, and knew Riley had ducked inside.

"Sweet. Here you go." The guy handed the parcel over, made a note on the clipboard he was carrying, and turned back toward the elevator.

"Wait." Brian hefted the package. It had a little weight to it, but not a great deal. "What is this? Who sent it? Nobody here ordered anything."

"Oh, uh, yeah." The delivery guy fumbled with his clipboard. "There's a note. I'm supposed to say, 'I'm not going to let anything bad happen', whatever that means."

"Oh." Brian knew exactly what it meant, but while he was no longer worried about a kidnapping or other potential harm, he was still no wiser about the contents of the package. "Thanks. Have a nice day."

"No problem. You have a good one too, buddy." The delivery man went back to the elevator and hit the button to go down. By the time the doors closed behind him, he was whistling a popular Canary tune, albeit off-key.

Frowning, Brian headed back to the apartment door, still holding the package. When he tapped on the door, it opened immediately; Theo was on the other side, wearing a breastplate and helmet and hefting an impressively sharp-looking shortsword. "Oh, good. You're okay. What is it?"

"Everything's fine," Brian assured him. "Atropos isn't about to let anything bad happen to us, remember?" Then he looked past Theo to see what was on the TV screen. It was a paused console game, with a giant robot visible from two different angles. In both views, it had been pretty badly shot up, and was on fire. What really grabbed his attention was the swastika blatantly painted on the robot's chest, and woven into the draperies hanging from a nearby brick wall. "What the heck is that?"

"Aisha's welcome-to-the-apartment present for me," Theo said, making the armour and shortsword disappear in a mind-twisting fractal manner. "I was a bit down when we got home, then she remembered the present and gave it to me. So, we started playing."

"Oh, yeah." Brian remembered what had happened to drive the presents out of everyone's thoughts. "That was a crazy day, for sure."

"So, what's this package?" asked Aisha, pointing at the one Brian still held. "I know I didn't order anything. Did you guys?"

Brian needed no further encouragement. He pried at the box until a corner opened up, then ran his thumbnail along the edge to break the tape. Finally, he lifted the lid to reveal …

"Game controllers?" Riley looked over at the games console. "But we've already got a pair of controllers."

Aisha grinned as she pumped her fist in the air. "Three words, Ri. Four player game."

"Oh," said Theo. "Oh." He glanced from the console to Brian, then to the opened parcel. "I mean, that's if you want to play …"

"That's a hell and yes I want to play," Brian told him bluntly. He pulled the controllers out of their packaging and handed them to Aisha. "Go ahead and plug them in. If there's anything more fulfilling than kicking Nazi ass, it's kicking Nazi ass with a bunch of friends to enjoy it with."

There was homework to be done and dinner to be cooked, but right now it was time to have fun with the people who meant the most to him.

<><>

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♦ Topic: The Sleeper Has Awoken
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► New Capes ► Atropos

Atropos (Original Poster) (UnVerified Cape) (Banned) (You Wish) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me) (Verified Dethpicable)
Posted On Mar 16th 2011:

Well, I'm back.

And in returning, I will be answering the burning question on everyone's lips. Did I gank Sleeper, or did he see sense?

Okay, short answer first. He's alive.

Slightly longer answer: he agreed to the removal of his powers. This also took away some lingering problems related to said powers, so now he will live out the rest of his life entirely free of those problems.

If any of you are thinking that I'm being a little hazy on the details, you're absolutely correct. That's mainly because spilling all the beans after the fact will allow people to figure out who he is now, and someone would kill him. And while I don't give a damn about him as a person, I did *not* go through all that effort to have it go to waste.

He will live a long and healthy life. I promise nothing more.

So yeah, Russia? You and and Earth Shin no longer have to worry about having him come in and wreck your shit.

You're welcome.

Toodles!

(Showing page 1 of 238)

►TheRealGloryGirl (Verified Cape) (Cape Daughter) (New Wave Member)
Replied On Mar 16th 2011:
Can actually confirm.
Atropos asked me and Panacea to come along, plus a couple of the Wards (with Director Renick's blessing) and under her direction we got 'er done. Sleeper had clearly taken the first warning to heart, because he didn't give us a moment of trouble.
Because Atropos doesn't want any more information coming out about him (and she's right: someone *would* totally rearrange his brainmeats with a pickaxe at the first opportunity) I'm not gonna say who he is either, though I will confirm that he's not going to be just living free and easy.
Some of you might be surprised that Atropos didn't just wave her magic wand and make the problem go away all by herself. That's not who she is, and she's never pretended to be that. She brings the right weapon to the fight, and in this case (after she delivered the warning and made him aware of his options) that was us.
But do not misunderstand the situation here. What happened with Sleeper, the way it played out, was one hundred percent Atropos' doing. Without her to tell us exactly what to do and how to do it (I spent most of the time singing the Lil' Mousey theme song, believe it or not) it wouldn't have happened. She knew exactly what needed to be done, and how to make it so. And because she was there to direct us, we achieved something I wouldn't have believed if I hadn't seen it for myself.
And yes, I know, that's basically par for the course with Atropos. Doesn't make it any less impressive when you see it for yourself.
I know that when Atropos first started rearranging Brockton Bay's criminal landscape, I aired some opinions fairly strenuously. I also know that when I came face to face with her for the first time, I acted like a trigger-happy moron. But she chose not to kill me, and once I got some perspective on the situation (about the time Panacea made me watch the Nine takedown) I understood the depth of her restraint.
So that's the truth of the matter. Atropos is entirely capable of restraint. She just has zero qualms about discarding that restraint if she considers it necessary. And everyone she's killed so far--*everyone*--managed to do something that made her decide not to bother with restraint this time.
It's as simple as that.
There's a lesson in there for everyone even considering crossing her.
Don't. *Do Not*.
I cannot stress this hard enough.

►Bagrat (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member)
Replied On Mar 16th 2011:
And there you have it, folks.
While I personally wouldn't consider Atropos to be any kind of hero (let's be real here, folks; she's repeatedly denied the concept) she's *extremely* consistent in her actions, and Glory Girl's basically hit the nail on the head in all respects.
As a wise man once said, "Don't cause no trouble, ain't gonna be no trouble."
I'm down with that.

►Mouse_Protector (Veteran Member) (Verified Cape) (Independent Hero) (Verified Atropos Fan)
Replied On Mar 16th 2011:
Wow, really? Singing the Lil' Mousey theme? Personally I'd call shenanigans, except that I know how Atropos operates (with panache and style, naturally) and I would not put that past her for an instant.
Nice work all round, kiddo.

►UnconcernedFox
Replied On Mar 16th 2011:
*draws a line through yet another S-class threat*
*looks at the few that are left*
*wonders if any will be stupid enough to get Atropos' attention*
*goes to get more popcorn*

►TheRealBrandish (Verified Cape) (Cape Wife) (New Wave Member)
Replied On Mar 16th 2011:
Really? Sleeper? Why am I only hearing about this now?

►TheRealPanacea (Verified Cape) (Cape Daughter) (New Wave Member)
Replied On Mar 16th 2011:
Well, crap. Vicky, you didn't tell her?

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On Mar 16th 2011:
It should come as a surprise to nobody that after a thorough search of Sleeper's last verified location, there is no sign of him. Or of anyone, really. There is one farmhouse that shows signs of recent occupancy by up to six people, but it's empty and there are no indications of how they could have left.
For the moment, mainly due to the fact that Atropos has never lied about anything of this sort to the best of our knowledge, the PRT and the Guild are going to assume that Sleeper has indeed been removed from the field of play.
It is our understanding that the Russian government was offering a standing reward for any cape who took him down, but they also had conditions (must be able to supply his corpse for verification) that Atropos won't be able to meet, mainly because she killed the powers, not the man.
It is my personal opinion (I do not speak for the PRT in this) that they should waive the conditions and just pass the money on to the Betterment Committee, but I have no power in the matter.
In any case, since reading the after-action report, I offer Atropos my sincere congratulations for a job well done under trying conditions.
In unrelated news, the kidnapped lady on the highway sent in a thank-you card signed by her whole family to the PRT ENE department, for Atropos. We are forwarding it on to the Betterment Committee.

►D_Hebert_Chairman_BBBC (Da Boss)
Replied On Mar 16th 2011:
I believe this is my first official post on here in my capacity as Chairman.
(No, I don't know how that tag got there, and the mods don't seem to be able to remove it.)
In reference to Reave's comment about the card, we will be putting it on display in a separate venue along with the rest of Atropos' awards. The vast majority came from her victory over the Simurgh, but there are a few others as well. The location of this venue is right next to the Betterment Committee offices; we didn't understand at the time why Atropos was suggesting that we acquire it, but now we do.
Before anyone gets the idea of stealing these for whatever reason, we also have photo-galleries of her more gruesome kills (and non-lethal takedowns) that are required viewing for anyone being considered for a place on the Committee.
Long story short, if anyone thinks that because Atropos is singlehandedly bankrolling the largest private venture of this sort in history, she can't be all that dangerous, I strongly advise them to look into the cases of Janice Templeton and Paul King, as filed under 'cautionary tale'. Also, Ravioli and Barrow.

►They_Call_Me_Ash (Verified Cape) (Verified Ex-Villain) (Verified Atropos Fan) (Dockworkers Association Member)
Replied On Mar 16th 2011:
Haha yeah no, I think that would be a remarkably stupid idea. And speaking from the point of view of someone who once had Atropos' shotgun to her head, I *know* stupid ideas.

​

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 236, 237, 238

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<><>​

Aisha

Just as Aisha was about to click to the next page, the laptop screen flickered. When it cleared, the black silhouette of Atropos overlaid everything else. Leaning forward until she looked like she was about to pop out of the screen, the apparition of Atropos whispered, "Bedtime." Then her shears came up into view, and snipped once.

Aisha, knowing Atropos all too well, was entirely unsurprised when her laptop started shutting down all by itself. "Well, fuck," she muttered, unable to even feel justified about complaining, because it was definitely past her bedtime.

"Whassamatter?" mumbled Riley sleepily from her bed.

Aisha tried hard not to sound like she was bitching about being caught out, though she totally was. "Atropos just curfewed my laptop." Closing the device, she stowed it on the bedside table and settled down to sleep.

"Heh. Busted."

"Oh, shut up."

<><>​

The Person Once Known as Damsel of Distress

Ashley hummed to herself as she got off the Betterment Committee minibus outside the Committee offices. Under her right arm, as per usual, she was carrying her helmet and lunchbox. However, in her left hand she was carrying a bulky shopping bag, which had garnered her more than a little curious attention on the ride in.

There had been the occasional question about the bag, but instead of getting angry about it (as would have been her go-to in the past) she'd deflected the queries with a pretence of obliviousness, deriving more than a little amusement from the whole charade. Even Lacey (who was driving the bus) had gone from asking questions to joining in the joke, pretending that the bag didn't even exist. Ashley wasn't sure what had turned the older woman (who she actually admired quite a bit) to her side in the matter, but she was glad to have made the connection.

Shortly thereafter, all the workers for the upcoming shift were assembled in the oversized break room, and Mr Hebert took centre stage. "You all know what you're rostered on for," he began. "There are no changes at this point. We'll keep you updated through the day. Now, before we get started, I believe Ash has something to say."

Ashley blinked, not sure how he'd picked up on that, but fully aware that some of the men said Mr Hebert had eyes not only in the back of his head, but around the corner and down the street as well. If there was anyone more switched-on about the Committee than him, she had yet to meet them.

Prompted by his nod, she stepped forward to the table and opened the shopping bag. "Ah, yes," she said, abruptly shy. "I, uh, I made cupcakes." Pulling the large Tupperware container out of the bag, she took the top off, abruptly releasing the scent of freshly baked goods into the air-conditioned room.

"Damn," commented Alexander, one of the younger Dockworkers. "That smells good." Taking one out of the container, he peeled away some of the paper and bit into it. "Mmmyeah," he enthused, though his voice was a little muffled. "Really good."

"One each, please." Mr Hebert's voice cut across the sudden hubbub of the incipient feeding frenzy. "And could someone pass me one? Thank you."

As the last reaching hand grabbed a cupcake, there were three left, which she firmly closed the lid on. "I think I'll keep those back," she decided, grinning at the looks of disappointment on the faces of those who had been eyeing them off. "One for Vicky and one for Gary, for being nice about giving me a second chance. And one for me, of course."

"Where'd you learn to cook so good?" asked Alexander, balling up the cupcake paper between his fingers. "That was nice."

Ashley shrugged, though his casual praise triggered a warm feeling in her chest that refused to go away. "YouTube, mainly. And a lot of practice." In the interest of honesty, she snorted dryly. "Trust me, there were a few mishaps. The first batch wasn't even edible, and the second lot only barely so. And somehow I managed to actually light the fourth lot on fire."

"What about the third batch?"

She met his eyes and shook her head. "We do not talk about the third batch."

"Right. Got it." He nodded firmly as laughter rose in the room. "The third batch will not be talked about."

"Thanks for the cupcake, Ash." Luke slapped her lightly on the shoulder. "That was much appreciated."

"Yeah, Ash, thanks."

"Really hit the spot."

"Damn nice."

As the voices rose in echo of Luke's sentiment, Ashley found herself blushing as tears prickled in her eyes. She hadn't been sure exactly why she'd chosen to make cupcakes, except perhaps because Vicky had enjoyed her cooking on the night she'd come over. Even then, the process of learning how to make them had been as enjoyable as it had been frustrating, teaching herself a new skill from scratch and becoming better than she had been before.

But while she'd expected a few people might try a cupcake out of politeness, the overwhelmingly positive response she'd gotten had thrown her for a loop. With her new emotional awareness (the only way she could really describe how she felt following the whole thing with Teacher) it seemed that the approval of others meant more than ever, while at the same time being easier to obtain given that she could actually understand people better than before. Not that she was an expert by any stretch of the imagination, but some understanding was better than none at all.

Ducking her head, she stuffed the container back in the bag. It would fit at the bottom of her locker until she got the chance to hand out the last two and have the third one for herself. Just as she got it sorted out, a hand rested briefly on her shoulder. "Well done," Mr Hebert said quietly. "I think they were a hit."

"Thanks." She tried not to sound awkward, but it wasn't easy. "I, uh, I'm still learning how. I think I just got lucky."

"One man's good luck is another man's result of hard work and forward planning." Mr Hebert nodded to her. "I have a few recipes that my wife used regularly, if you're interested."

She blinked, her previous distraction forgotten. "Uh, okay, wow, thanks. That would be amazing."

"Entirely my pleasure." He smiled warmly. "You seem to be making cooking your new hobby, and I'm all for encouraging my people to find worthwhile things to try out. See me tomorrow and I'll get them to you."

"Okay, sure." She glanced at the clock. "Uh, gotta get going. See you tomorrow."

"Go." He waved her off genially. "Kick ass, and make me proud."

As she dashed out the door toward her locker, she couldn't stop grinning. For a shot in the dark, the cupcakes had paid off more than she could ever have expected. She knew all about cocksure arrogance and being certain about something with nothing to back it up, but this was something totally different. This feeling of accomplishment was earned.

And that mattered, more than she'd ever expected it to.



End of Part Ninety-Six

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Ninety-Seven: Heroes

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



Thursday Afternoon, March 17, 2011
PRT Department 01 Wards Base

Flechette

Wrapped in her bathrobe and drying her hair with her towel, Lily left the communal showers and headed back toward her room. It had been a long patrol, turning over metaphorical rocks and kicking in not-so-metaphorical doors, all in the name of locating Rune. A lot of criminal activity had been uncovered and turned over for the cops to deal with, but so far the ex-Empire bitch was still in the wind (so to speak).

When she'd first met Boomer, she believed him to be a little too full of himself, and he wasn't quite as cool as he considered himself to be. He turned out to be a nice guy though, and she'd picked up one or two useful tips from him. The trouble lay in his insistence on seeing the good in everyone, and with Rune that had turned out to be a fatal error.

All that aside, he'd been a good man, doing his best to be a worthwhile hero, and he hadn't deserved to be murdered like that. Or at all, really. Which meant payback was in order.

Lily had gone out on this patrol fully expecting to find Rune in the first hour, given that the major gangs should be ostracising her for what she'd done. That hadn't happened, though she'd learned more about the dim and dingy hideouts favoured by those despised by both sides of the law than she had in the last year. The second and third hours had been similarly unproductive, apart from the other human cockroaches they'd uncovered and passed on to the NYPD; the person she most fervently wanted to get her hands on continued to elude her grasp.

Still mulling over the places she'd seen and wondering exactly how many more bolt-holes there were in a city of six million people, she stepped into her room and bumped the door closed with her hip. A t-shirt and Hello Kitty sleep pants were laid out over the bed; she took two steps toward it—

"Hey."

As she spun around, her mind connected the voice with just one person, who had the ability to appear basically anywhere she wanted. By the time her eyes registered the familiar black costume, she'd already arrested the defensive motion of her hands. It didn't mean she wasn't going to yell at Atropos, just that it was going to be more of a formality than a real situation.

"Seriously, what the fuck?" she demanded, though they both knew at this point that she was only going through the motions. "I could've had a weapon in my hand. Sneaking up on me is dangerous!"

"You didn't have a weapon, and I didn't sneak up on you. Hell, I even said hi." Atropos hadn't moved from her relaxed leaning posture against the door, legs crossed at the ankle and hands in the pockets of her long-coat. "How are you doing after yesterday?"

Lily dropped the act. "Still sucks," she admitted. "I was nearly close enough to do something about it. Thanks for the save, by the way."

"You're welcome." Atropos stepped forward from the door, closing the distance. "You can ask the question, if you want."

Saying 'what question?' would've been both a waste of time and an insult to Atropos' intelligence, so Lily didn't bother. "If you knew what was going on and you could save me, why not save him too?"

Atropos held up a finger. "I can answer that, but it will lead to more questions, with answers you might not like. Are you willing to go there?"

Lily had suspected things might go this way, but she'd asked the question, and she did want to know the answer. "Sure. Hit me."

"Okay." Atropos sat down on the bed. "Let's get comfortable for this. There's three parts to this answer. First part is, I have my limits. I could've saved you or him, but not both in that time frame. Second part is, I don't do the hero thing. I don't save people. I End problems. Third part is, you're important to me, and that's why I saved you. He wasn't. Keeping up so far?"

"Yeah." Lily also sat down. Like Atropos had said, more questions were occurring to her. "What limits? I thought you could teleport anywhere."

Atropos pulled back her sleeve and showed Lily a slimline module made of black plastic, encasing her left forearm. A tap of a hidden catch opened a small panel, revealing a tiny keyboard and screen. "I got this teleporter from Leet. It works every time, but there's a cooldown period between portal jumps. I could throw you a portal, or I could throw Boomer one, but I couldn't do both at the same time." She closed the panel and slid her sleeve down again. "Next question?"

"Jesus." Lily blinked, momentarily stunned. "You're just … showing me this?"

Atropos shrugged. "Are you going to tell anyone?"

"Well, uh, no. Of course not. Um." The revelation was still throwing her for a loop, but at least she could understand more of what had happened. "Why … why didn't you just stop her from doing any of that? From killing Boomer or trying to kill me?"

"Because I'm not a hero." Atropos said the same words again, but with more emphasis this time. "Let's walk through this. Suppose I showed up on that rooftop and killed her. She wasn't in Brockton Bay. She wasn't threatening the city. People would wonder why I was going to other cities and killing people without any kind of good reason. I would be slightly less of a reliable figure than I was before."

"Well, you don't have to kill her," Lily pointed out. She was pretty sure Atropos had an answer for this too, but she wanted to hear it. "Just, you know, subdue and restrain."

"And then it would get out that I was out and about, stopping bad guys." Atropos spread her hands expressively. "Some people might ask why I wasn't doing it more often, or why I had to kill all the people I killed. Or maybe word would get around that I was hunting down the capes I chased out of the city. Whichever way it went, I don't need that crap. I'm not a hero. I don't care what they do, just so long as they don't do it in my city."

"But you saved me." Lily came back to that. "Even though I'm not in Brockton Bay. Because you care about me."

"Yes and no." Atropos raised her finger again. "I didn't save you because I care about you. I saved you because you're important to me. There's a difference." She looked at Lily's expression and sighed. "Okay, let's start from base principles here. I'm not a good person, and I'm never going to pretend to be one. But there are far worse people than me, and far worse things, and if my city is going to be nice and safe and prosperous, then I'll End anything and everything trying to stop that from happening without a second thought. Then there are those people who are important to me either physically or emotionally; those people, I will keep safe. That includes you. Do you understand now?"

"I … think so." Lily had thought she'd had a read on Atropos before. Now she had the whole book open before her, chapter and verse, and the words on the page sent a chill down her spine. She wasn't precisely scared of Atropos now, but a few of her assumptions were rearranging themselves in light of the new information. "So, uh … don't take this the wrong way, but you saving me, and all that stuff about the power of friendship … is that just because I'm useful to you?"

"Trust me, I'll never take anything you say the wrong way." Atropos's tone was such that Lily knew she was smiling. "You're right in that you're useful to me. You make my job a lot easier in a lot of ways. But I'm not keeping you alive and safe just because of that. I also think you're worth keeping around, which is not a judgement I make lightly. Plus, though this doesn't carry a huge amount of weight, I have a lot of time for the Rogues' Guild, and Spitfire would be upset if you got hurt."

"Oh." Lily wanted to ask if Atropos was pulling her leg now—with that matter-of-fact tone, it was very hard to tell—but she suspected she knew the answer. Atropos didn't go in for that kind of bullshit 'gotcha' assholery. She was a straight shooter, in every sense of the phrase. "So, um … what you were saying before, about Ending anything that gets in your way. What if a hero tried to stop you from doing something to fix the city? I mean, you've only killed villains so far … haven't you?"

"Villains or villain-adjacent," Atropos confirmed. "Not killing heroes serves several purposes. Mainly, it reduces the amount of tedious bullshit I have to wade through by giving the PRT an excuse to not come after me. Most heroes I can step around or dissuade by less lethal means. I did kill Shadow Stalker, but she was planning to put me in a coma or worse, and she ignored two warnings. Then there was Director Wilkins." She paused expectantly.

"You mentioned something about putting your shears to her eye." Lily frowned. "Can I ask why you did that?"

Atropos snorted softly. "She was trying to show off how smart she was by figuring out my secret identity, while on a video call with Director Piggot and the Chief Director. Piggot flat-out told her to drop it, but she kept going, right up until I put my arm around her throat and gave her a good hard look at the point of my shears."

"That would, um …" Lily cleared her throat. "That would certainly get my attention. What happened then?"

"The Chief Director told me that if I killed Wilkins, the PRT would have to take notice. I explained that even with my shears to her eye, Wilkins was still planning to return to the search once I backed off. I asked her what she would have me do."

"Oh. Wow. Way to put her on the spot. So … she told Wilkins not to be such a dumbass?"

Atropos chuckled. "About that, yes. With a threat of death penalty for treason thrown in for good measure."

Lily tilted her head as the pieces fell into place. "Did that have anything to do with why Wilkins is out and Piggot's running the show here now?"

"Little bit." Atropos sounded amused. "Anything else you wanted to know?"

"Not really." Lily paused as something occurred to her. "Wait, no, I do. Panacea and Tenebrae and Miss Medic. Are they on your 'important to me' list as well?"

"They are, and so's Tenebrae's sister." Atropos waited for a beat. "You'd know her online handle. Great and Terrible Aisha."

Lily did indeed know it. "Oh. Oh, right. She helped you blow up a bunch of drugs and stuff, and you got selfies with her." The signed Polaroid of Great and Terrible Aisha with Atropos' shears held up behind her head like bunny ears would never be topped, she was sure.

Atropos nodded. "And you helped me kill the Simurgh. Are people still saying, 'duck season, wabbit season'?"

A grin crept across Lily's face. "You know they are. Okay, yeah, I get it. You're not just using us and discarding us. We get something out of it too."

"That's the general idea, yes. So, about Rune." Atropos stood up.

Lily looked up at her, then stood as well. "You're going to grab her for us?"

"Nope. I already told you, I'm not a hero. I don't chase villains. I kill them after two warnings." Atropos snapped her fingers, and a folded piece of paper appeared between her fingertips. "You, however, are absolutely a hero. This should be right up your alley. So to speak."

"Wait." Lily stared at the proffered piece of paper. "Is that …" Reaching out, she gingerly took it, then unfolded it. Within, in impeccable penmanship, was an address in Queens, plus a time and date. 14:34, 6/18. "That's where she'll be, tomorrow afternoon?"

"Either that, or I'm sending you on the world's stupidest scavenger hunt." Atropos raised her chin slightly. "So, what are you going to do when you kick the door in? Kill her? Or subdue and restrain her then bring her back in for trial?"

Lily clenched her fists. "I know what I'd like to do."

"It'd be easy." Atropos put a hand on her shoulder. "And nobody would blame you, least of all me. But the next time someone pulls something like that, the temptation's right there, and it keeps getting easier. Somewhere down along that slippery slope, you'd stop seeing justifications and start looking for reasons to do it. And that isn't you. You aren't me, and you don't need to be me. Be a net positive to society and leave the Ending of assholes to me, okay?"

Lily took a deep breath, feeling the weight and gravity of Atropos' words. "Yeah. You're right. And thanks, for reminding me what heroes are for."

"Not a problem." Atropos gave her a quick side-hug. "It's people like you who give me faith that the world's still worth saving."

"All good. I—" Lily looked around, but Atropos had vanished between one word and the next. She chuckled and shook her head, then checked the note again. God damn. She just handed me Rune on a silver platter, just because she thinks I'm worth having around.

There were definitely worse situations to be in, when it came to Atropos.

<><>​

Friday Afternoon, 1:55 PM
An Alley in Philadelphia

Clockblocker

"And so, we return to the scene of the crime, I guess?" Dennis knew he was being inane, but he had to say something to take his mind off the horrific scene that was constantly unfolding then repeating in front of them.

"That's one way to put it, I guess." Tenebrae gave him a moderately sympathetic look. "But it's more of a rescue mission than anything else."

"Better late than never." Miss Medic tapped the side of her helmet, and magnifying optics dropped down in front of her eyes. Dennis hadn't even known they were there; but then again, she was on the same team as Armsmaster. With the sudden lack of villains to fight, the man had taken a special interest in equipping her with the very best medical gear he could devise. "Okay, once we get him out of there, it should be pretty straightforward. Only one major artery severed. Five minutes, tops."

"Wow, dang." Shebang shook her head, but she didn't look around from where she was prepping her devices. "That'll be seriously impressive. It takes me five minutes just to get a band-aid on my finger."

"Thirty seconds to save his life." Miss Medic's tone was matter-of-fact. "Four minutes thirty seconds to make it look pretty and get some blood back into him."

"She's not actually exaggerating," Dennis felt compelled to add. "One of the ex-villains currently working for the Betterment Committee was in a wheelchair. Long-term paraplegia. Miss Medic got her legs working again in less than two hours."

Tenebrae turned to look at him. "I didn't tell you about that."

"No, but I did." Leaning against the wall with his arms folded, Assault grinned. "Battery and I were both extremely impressed."

"Wait, so you actually have villains in the Betterment Committee?" Chevalier frowned. "Isn't that a kind of a risk?"

"Less than you'd think," Tenebrae assured him. "I'm an ex-villain, and I can assure you that every one of us in Brockton Bay is there in good faith. I get to be in the Wards and take care of my sister, and they get to have a good-paying job and help fix the city. And that's not even counting the Eagletons."

"I heard about those." Shebang still hadn't looked around. "They're the Machine Army, right?"

"Robotic Americans," Assault corrected her, still grinning. Dennis thought it was funny too, but Assault seemed to get a real kick out of it. "Their citizenship got fast-tracked, probably because nobody wanted Atropos to come over there and ask why it was being held up."

"They actually made them citizens?" Chevalier's tone was strong with disbelief. "You can't be serious."

Dennis shrugged. "Well, it's not like they weren't born in the United States." He shared a high-five with Assault. "Constructed, created, whatever."

"Yes, but—"

"They're not human?" Tenebrae gave Chevalier a look that shut the older man up. "Not two hundred years ago, there were people in this country—in this city—who would've said exactly the same thing about me and Miss Medic. I have it on good authority that legislation is being drafted right now making artificial intelligences equal to humans in the eyes of the law. Thanks to Atropos, it was already the case in practice. This just gets everyone onto the same page."

"And talking about being on the same page," Shebang interrupted, standing up from the two devices, both of which now had blinking lights on top, "these two bad boys are about to rock our buddy's world. Trooper Ballinger, if you could carry my cases out of harm's way? Mouth of the alley, please."

"Certainly, ma'am." The PRT trooper picked up both cases, hefting them with an ease Dennis wouldn't have been able to match with just one case, and strode down the alley in the direction that she'd indicated.

Tenebrae made sure Miss Medic was back out of the way, shooing her along even as she tried to stop and get a glimpse of what was about to happen. Dennis didn't need urging; he was quite happy to hide behind Chevalier and Assault until Shebang's bombs went off. (He knew they weren't really bombs, but they had blinking lights and weren't really safe to be around, so it was as good a term as any.)

They were all grouped around the mouth of the alleyway when Assault turned to Chevalier. "I know this is last-minute, but how sure are we that there's nobody in the danger radius? Like squatting in either of those buildings?"

"I thought of that," the veteran hero assured him. "When we were notified that you were on the way, we went through both buildings with a fine tooth comb, and sealed every entry point afterward. Once we're done, the tech guys are going to go over every inch of the affected area to catalogue all the effects for next time."

"Okay, fine, yeah." Assault nodded. "Shebang, you may fire when ready."

"You got it, chief." Bending over the massively complicated remote in her hand, Shebang tapped in a combination of buttons, then pressed a big red one. From down the alley, Dennis heard bip … bip … bip bip bip bipbipbipbeeeeep—

Silence reigned for all of five seconds. He was opening his mouth to ask if that had been it when a brilliant flash from down the alley put indigo spots in front of his eyes despite his helmet protecting his vision, and left a taste like lemon on his tongue. Then everything in the alley started juddering and vibrating, ghosts of ancient trash cans appearing and vanishing in the same instant. The weirdest thing was how outside the alleyway the sunlight was strong and steady, while inside it strobed constantly from dark to light and back again.

And then … it stopped. The alley was quiet again, save for the sound of a man collapsing to the ground. "Go!" Assault barked, and Tenebrae darted into the alley with Miss Medic hot on his heels. Dennis came third, because if this guy was dangerous in any way, he would need to be turned into a lawn ornament post-haste.

As it turned out, there was no such need. When they got to the guy, he was lying on his back with an agonised expression on his face, trying to hold his intestines in his body. Miss Medic went to her knees beside him, a syringe popping out of her left-hand bracer. "You're going to be alright," she assured him, even as the sedative entered his veins.

When Chevalier and Shebang arrived—the dependable Trooper Ballinger was guarding the cases at the mouth of the alley—the surgery was already in full swing. Tenebrae was holding up a bag of blood and another of plasma, and while Dennis couldn't see exactly what she was doing from his angle, he could hear the scissoring sound of surgical tools extending from her bracers then retracting again.

After what seemed like forever but was probably less than the five minutes originally estimated, Miss Medic sat back on her heels and used her bracers to spray some kind of cleaning solution over her hands. "Done," she announced brightly. "He'll need a night's rest and observation because that's just common sense, and he'll be sore for the next week, but he'll make a complete recovery." She beamed up at Chevalier. "Thanks for this. It's always nice to save someone's life."

He half-smiled as he offered her a hand to stand up. "We need to be thanking you. That was the neatest bit of surgery I ever saw. And Shebang, it looks like your bombs were right on the money."

Shebang nodded self-consciously. "I thought they would be, but it's good to be right about something like that. So, uh, how many Gray Boy victims are there, anyway?"

Chevalier looked grim. "I'll have to look up the exact number, but there are more than a few."

Miss Medic took on a determined expression. "Doesn't matter. We're gonna free every last one of them, and I'll fix 'em up afterward. Because that's what heroes do."

Shebang nodded, and gave her a high-five. "Damn right."

<><>​

2:00 PM
New York

Legend

Fifteen thousand feet above Manhattan Island, Keith flew steadily over the city, scanning every person he saw for any kind of resemblance to Rune. Far too many wore hats or hoodies, but he could check and reject the vast majority of pedestrians on the street. There were no fliers over any of the boroughs that he didn't already know, so she wasn't in the air.

He just didn't know where she was.

His radio earpiece clicked onto an open channel. "Sir, this is Jouster. There's something you need to see."

"Show me." He turned his eyes toward where he'd last seen Flechette and Jouster. They were both looking up into the sky, though not directly at him. In Flechette's hand was a piece of paper. Focusing in just a little gave him a handwritten note, showing a location and a time. "Interesting. Where did that come from?"

Flechette took a deep breath, audible over the comms. "Atropos gave it to me last night, sir."

That got his attention. By now, it was an article of faith within the PRT and Protectorate—as well as Cauldron—that if Atropos made a claim, it could be taken as a gold-plated guarantee. The girl had been correct far too often, and Keith couldn't actually recall when she'd been wrong about anything.

"You could have led us in that direction," he observed quietly. "Called it a hunch. We'd never know the difference, and it would've gotten you major kudos."

"I did think about it, not gonna lie," she admitted. "But Atropos gave me more than the note. She also reminded me about why people like us become heroes. We need to hold ourselves to a higher standard. I know that if I lied, I'd always be tempted to keep lying, just to make myself look good."

Keith knew more than a little about that, and he wondered how much of Atropos' message, delivered second-hand via Flechette, was meant for his ears. More than a little, he suspected. The girl evidently knew enough about Cauldron to be a problem if she so chose, no matter how much Doctor Mother tried to deny it.

But that was a problem for another day. "That can be a self-perpetuating trap, yes. I've seen more than one cape fall into it. It's good that you recognised it first." He paused, taking in Flechette's hopeful expression. "Would you like to be the first one through the door?"

Flechette nodded firmly. "More than anything, sir."



[A/N: Evil cliffhanger is evil. Mwahahaha.]

End of Part Ninety-Seven

 

[Impartial Panic]

"Either that, or I'm sending you on the world's stupidest scavenger hunt."

Click to shrink...

Evil Laugh tm

Spoiler: damn muse won't leave me alone

*BAM BAM CRUNCH*

Flechette kicks the door in to what turned out to be a rather nice apartment.
"Ok Rune we can do this the easy way or the har....uh who are you?"

A man in a assault T-shirt & bluejeans looks up from the computer at his desk to direct his attention to the intruder.
"I'm Mike, you just broke my door and I'm pretty sure the strippers I ordered were supposed to be dressed as Brandish and Photon not Flechette."

Flechette is stuck by confusion at the mans comment as legend walks into the apartment.

"Ok getting the wrong heroine is one thing but I did not order a male stripper."

"Mike?"

"Oh you're the real legend, been a while."

Flechette was now even more confused.
"You know each other?"

Mike smiled at the girl.
"Well back in the 80's and 90's I used to be Dr. Mayhem the Tinker of Terror.
But then Simurgh appeared, Siberian killed Hero and well it just stopped being fun so hung up the cape and now I work for Dragontech."

Legend frowns as he looks around.
"We were told Rune would be here."

"Oh the girl in the Noir detective getup sent you, well I don't have a Rune here but she did ask me to make this for you."
The man gets up from the desk and walks over to a closet pulling out a retro sci-fi rifle.
"It's the latest model of my old power nullification ray, she said you'd need it for your target as well as this note."

Flechette takes the note showing another address and time on it.
"What the hell is she playing at?"

Mike shrugs.
"Dunno, she paid me in cash and said this was some kind of scavanger hunt for a nazi brat."

Legend shakes his head
"This is going to be an interesting day."

note to self figure out where that damn muse keeps finding hammers to hit me with silly ideas.

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Ninety-Eight: Knock-On Effects

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



Relevant Side-Story

2:30 PM, Friday March 18
Brockton Bay Betterment Committee Offices

Danny Hebert

The knock on the door was firm yet tentative, mainly because the person doing the knocking was worried about accidentally breaking the door. Of course, Danny knew exactly who it was; they were here to see him on Betterment Committee business, so he was aware of everything he needed to know about them. "Come in," he called.

When the door opened, he restrained the rise in his eyebrows, because the person on the other side of the doorway was big. The interesting thing was, she wasn't that much larger than, say, Manpower (and she was considerably shorter than Menja or Fenja had been when grown to full height) but she radiated the impression of being much larger than she really was. (He was under no illusions about her gender; while her shapeless clothing and her power's effects on her body made it hard to tell, his own power filled him in anyway.)

"Uh, thank you," she said in a voice that sounded like granite being crushed, ducking reflexively under the doorframe, even though it wasn't required. The room he'd set aside for interviews of this type was on the ground floor of the Committee building, where the ceilings (and door frames) were somewhat higher than normal. After carefully shutting the door behind her, she lowered herself into the chair (appropriately sized, and reinforced as a matter of course) with the air of someone for whom seating usually came in 'extra flimsy'. "I wasn't sure if you'd see me."

"We don't discriminate in the Betterment Committee," he advised her briskly. "If you're willing to work, we've got work that will suit both your temperament and your capabilities. Now, you were recommended to us by Atropos after your last employment ended so abruptly. I presume she filled you in on the local expectations for ex-villains?"

"She did, yeah. Play nice and don't do crime, is what she summed it up as." She leaned forward in her chair, which creaked slightly but held firm under her bulk. "Mr Hebert, I'll level with you. Ever since I got my powers, I've never been able to get work that didn't involve some real shady stuff, or even just plain hurting people. I've done stuff that I'm not proud of, because I needed to eat. If you can get me work that lets me do my thing where nobody gets hurt or yelled at or whatever, I'll count that as a win."

"I believe we can find something in that line for you." He opened his top drawer and took out the small envelope and the form that he'd placed in there prior to her arrival. "Now, as for the matter of your accommodations."

"Oh, uh, I won't be needing any." She made a wave-off gesture. "I don't actually sleep anymore. So, you know, all I really need is a place to keep my clothes and stuff, and shower when I'm leaving for work."

"Everyone needs a place to sit and unwind, and perhaps watch a little TV … or play video games, for that matter." He smiled slightly at her minor start of surprise. "We've had 'big and tall' occupancy apartments up and running since a week before Atropos began clearing out the quarantine zones. They're mainly used by some of the larger Eagletons, but as far as I'm aware, a few are still available. You're welcome to move into any one of them."

"Wait." He'd finally drawn her attention. "Eagletons … that's the robots, right? They live in apartments?" The look on her face suggested that she was wondering if Brockton Bay occupied the same frame of reality as the rest of the world.

"Well, where else?" He spread his hands. "Like I said, everyone needs a place to hang their hat, where they can keep their things out of the weather. I've heard that some love watching TV, while others play video games, as you do, while they're recharging. A few of them have built up a real presence online. Winston—he works in the office here—had a book club recommended to him by some of the girls, which he attends regularly."

She shook her head in evident bemusement. "Sure, why not. Sign me up for an apartment. If robots can live in them, so can I."

"Done, and done." Danny ticked off a point on the notepad in front of him. "Next order of business. I have here the standard contract for Betterment Committee work. You'll automatically become a member of the Dockworkers' Association, with all the benefits that accrue therein. The pay scale is laid out, and if you undertake training commensurate with your particular talents, that will go up accordingly." He eyed her up and down, raising his brows for a moment. "I suspect heavy lifting and demolitions are the best choices there, but you might yet surprise us."

She leaned forward again and accepted the form and the small envelope. "Uh, what's this?"

"That's your pay card. Everyone who moves to Brockton Bay gets one. The latest stimulus payment is already on it, and there'll be instructions in the envelope for setting the PIN. Which leads us to the next point. You're a case fifty-three, which means you don't have a legal name in the system." Or rather, you didn't, until now. He was looking forward to the next bit. It was like a magic trick, and he didn't even have to learn how to hide cards up his sleeves. Taylor already had it handled; she had all the cards up her sleeve, including some that didn't exist yet.

"Yeah, hah, no." The massive woman's voice held a tinge of bitterness. "It's not like they can fingerprint me and find out who I used to be." The delicate pebbled texture of her fingertips would've made picturesque prints, just nothing that could be recognised as human.

"Okay, then." He placed both hands flat on the desk. "Let's get hypothetical here. Tell me, what name would you like to use, among the crew? Go ahead, pick one."

"Name?" She leaned back in her chair. Danny was pleased that she was relaxed enough by the tone of the interview thus far that she was willing to participate in what she saw as a harmless game. "I'm guessing there's a reason I can't just keep using 'Minotaur'?"

"You can if you want." He let a half-smile tweak the corner of his mouth. "Just remember, you're going to have to look a bunch of construction roughnecks in the eye, as well as ex-villains and Eagletons, when you introduce yourself. They will take any opportunity to deflate egos by making up highly unflattering versions of pretentious cape names. Ordinary names get ordinary nicknames."

"Great, so no pressure then." But her tone was light. "I think … Abigail. Abigail MacFarlane." She glanced at him then, as though expecting mockery. "Is that okay?"

"Sure. It's your name." He gestured to the envelope, drawing her attention back to it. "Open it up."

Gingerly, she teased the tiny flap open—despite her size, strength, and rocky integument, she had excellent fine motor control, he noted—and slid the card out into her hand … where she saw the name embossed on it: ABIGAIL MACFARLANE.

The look of pure, unadulterated astonishment on her face was gold. She stared at the card, turning it over as though the explanation for the trick was on the other side. It wasn't, of course, so she settled for goggling at him instead. "What … how … but … I just … how did …"

He smiled. "Welcome to Brockton Bay, Ms MacFarlane." The sense of satisfaction never went away, every time he signed on a new worker and made their life measurably better as a result. "As I like to say, we do things differently here."

<><>​

At the Same Time, in New York City

Rune

Recalling lessons from Kaiser and Hookwolf on projecting confidence, Tammi walked with her shoulders back and head up, so that any airborne assholes searching for a scuttling, cringing fugitive would look straight past her. All the same, she made sure her hoodie was pulled forward to cover her face, and every last bit of her hair was tucked under it. Legend lived in this city, and he could literally read a newspaper from twenty thousand feet up, so she was taking no chances.

A police cruiser turned the corner a block away, and she ducked into a side alley. Her shoes had runes drawn on the soles, and she used them now to leap over a dumpster blocking the alley, then scramble up the wall. There was an apartment two floors up that was currently listed online as being for rent, so she'd broken a window to get in last night, mainly to get off the street.

It was only partially furnished, but she didn't care. The only thing worse than the heroes catching up with her would be street people getting hold of her while her guard was down. This way, she could make her plans with four walls between her and the rest of the world.

After the fuckup that was her meeting with the Adepts, she'd put out feelers to meet with other teams, but she figured out pretty quickly that the only ones who were showing interest had to be cops or heroes trying to catfish her into a pair of handcuffs, with a beatdown as an optional extra. Everyone else was ghosting her hard; she'd even found that her PHO logon credentials had been pulled.

Muttering to herself, she tapped the option to go in anonymously as a guest. Her posting capabilities would be severely limited, but at least she'd be able to see what people were saying—

Her phone screen flickered; when it reset, she was looking at a single line of white text on black. BANNED MEANS BANNED. Then that disappeared too, leaving her staring at her home screen.

"What the hell? How did they know it's me?"

Growling under her breath, she tried again. This time, the opening screen for PHO hadn't finished loading before she was booted for a second time, with the same message glaring at her.

"Seriously, what the—"

The front door of the apartment, which she could've sworn was locked, flew open, bouncing off the wall. Flechette launched in through the open doorway, changed direction by ninety degrees (leaving footprints in the tired linoleum in the process), and came at her. Her hands were empty, but that meant nothing at all. On her face was an expression of pure, almost inhuman, focus.

"Ruuune!"

The only thing that saved Tammi from soiling herself right then and there was the fact that she hadn't had anything to eat since noon. Even if she'd been prepped and ready for this fight, she knew she wouldn't have won. Flechette was good at that ju-jitsu shit, and the one time they'd clashed, Tammi had had her ass handed to her.

How the fuck did they find me? Letting out a screech of absolute terror, Tammi activated her shoes and dived through the door into the kitchen, kicking it closed behind her. The kitchen table was within reach, so she scrawled a hasty rune on it. But before Tammi could use the table to block pursuit, Flechette smashed the door open again.

Tammi sent the table flying at her anyway, but Flechette dropped to her knees and slid under it with the same sort of grace and ease that made Tammi grit her teeth. Nobody who looked like her should be able to pull moves like that, dammit!

Jumping into the air, assisted once more by her shoes, Tammi attempted to land a pile-driver kick into Flechette's face. Once the Asian bitch was down, she could maybe go out the window and make her escape. She didn't have a hope in hell of getting away without that happening, anyway.

Flechette rolled out of the way then kicked out at Tammi's descending leg, connecting hard enough to throw her entirely off balance. Tammi let out a startled yelp, flailing wildly as she tried to regain her equilibrium, but it was far too late for that; just as she got her feet under her again, Flechette surged up off the floor, leading with a palm-heel strike that caught her just under the nose.

While Tammi had never been hit in the nose with a baseball bat, she'd seen it done, and vaguely suspected that this was how it felt. Or rather, it felt like her sinuses had simultaneously exploded and been driven out through the back of her skull. In any case, she was entirely incapable of mustering any kind of response as she sprawled on the floor.

As Tammi's vision cleared, she made out Flechette standing over her, an aluminum dart in each hand. "Go ahead." The funny thing was, Flechette didn't even sound pissed, just … determined. "Give me a reason, you murdering sack of shit."

Every time Tammi had seen this particular scene played out in movies and TV shows, she'd thought it was bullshit. Why the fuck would a villain taunt the hero? It was a lot smarter just to let them think they'd won, then escape and come back for payback later when they weren't expecting it.

But now, in the moment, she understood.

"Go ahead," she mumbled, then turned her head to spit out the blood that was trying to trickle down the back of her throat. "Kill me. Get revenge. You know you want to." She smiled through bloody teeth up at Flechette.

There was no way in hell she was going to get the drop on Flechette without drawing her full attention. And if the Asian bitch was anything like her, she'd want Tammi to see it coming, which meant she would take her time. Better yet, if her focus was totally on Tammi, she wouldn't even see the table coming.

"Don't think I hadn't considered it." Flechette's tone was thoughtful. "And it would totally be satisfying as fuck. But I'm not going to give you even that much. I'm not Atropos, and I don't need to be her. I'm here to be a hero, and that means you're under fucking arrest."

Concentrating on lifting the table without scraping it against anything, Tammi gave Flechette her best sneer. "Big words for someone who's too weak to—"

The toe of Flechette's boot caught her under the chin and rocked her head back, sending stars flooding through her vision. She was vaguely aware of the table clattering to the floor again, then Flechette rolled her onto her stomach and began zip-tying her wrists. "Just because I'm not gonna kill you doesn't make me stupid."

The door was pushed open and the table scraped aside, then members of the PRT and Protectorate began to enter the room. "Everything alright in here, Flechette?" asked Legend.

"Yes, sir." Flechette heaved Tammi to her feet and shoved her at the nearest PRT trooper, who caught her roughly. "It is now."

<><>​

Winslow High School, 3:46 PM

Greg Veder

Along with the rest of his class, Greg hustled out of the Art classroom, the rising hubbub of excited conversation almost drowning out the bell signalling the end of the educational day. Absolutely nobody had forgotten about Principal Howell's announcement on Tuesday, and the fact that many things had already been moved out of the school overnight served as a reminder to those for whom it might have slipped their mind. Classrooms empty even of furniture—apparently the old stuff was all going to be recycled into something more useful—passed him by as he headed for his locker.

And then he skidded to a halt, because there was an Eagleton in the corridor (or rather, a robot wearing a yellow helmet and a fluoro orange safety vest, so he assumed it to be an Eagleton). He tried not to stare, but it was difficult. Seeing one on the news, or even at a distance on a construction site, was pretty cool, but there was a certain amount of separation involved. Meeting one face to face—or face to sensors, or whatever—took 'pretty cool', beat it up, and stole its lunch money.

Holy shit. This is amazeballs. He didn't even spare a thought toward being frightened of it. Atropos—Taylor—had told the Eagletons to behave, so they were going to behave. (At least, that was his understanding of how things had gone down.)

As he pulled out his phone to get photos (because why the fuck not), the Eagleton stepped forward and stamped a locker with a large red X. A moment later, Greg realised that a whole bunch of the lockers already had the same X on them. "Why's it doing that?" he asked out loud, not expecting to get an answer.

The Eagleton's head (it was on top of the torso and had a bunch of sensors on it, as well as being where it wore the helmet, so Greg was going to call it a head) turned and it looked at him. "Am marking lockers as they are vacated," it said in tones that were clearly artificial without being robotic. "Once all lockers in row are vacated, row will be detached, removed and dismantled."

"Wait, we're getting new lockers too?" Greg couldn't see who'd asked the question, but they'd only beaten him to the punch by a second or so.

"Affirmative. New lockers will be more secure, and designed for student safety. For instance, built so that students will be unable to accidentally lock themselves in."

Greg blinked. As someone who'd ended up on the wrong end of the 'being shut in a locker' experience more than once, he definitely welcomed the idea of it never happening again. But … Was that sarcasm? It sure as hell had sounded like it. Whatever else he'd heard about Eagletons, a propensity for sarcasm wasn't high on the list.

That was when he spotted Taylor at the edge of the crowd. She wasn't pushing forward, or even trying to get a selfie, like basically everyone else. Hands in pockets, she was leaning against the wall, observing everything with a half-smile twitching at the corner of her mouth.

All thoughts of getting a picture left his head, and he worked his way around the periphery to where she was. She saw him coming, of course, but said nothing. As he took up position next to her—careful not to crowd her, of course, and totally incapable of looking anywhere near as self-possessed as her—she gave him a slight, measured nod of acknowledgement.

"How awesome is this?" He did his best not to gush, but it wasn't easy. "A whole new Winslow, and we've got Eagletons doing the rebuilding." And all your doing, he didn't say, less because it would embarrass her, and more due to the fact that she wouldn't want it spoken out loud. Nearly everyone knew—and she had to know they knew—but by unspoken agreement, it was never mentioned.

"We've needed something like this for a long time," she agreed. Raising her voice slightly, she added, "Though it might be a good idea if everyone just cleared out their lockers and let Jared do his job."

A few heads turned and a few people went quiet, then they whispered to other people, who in turn looked around. Fascinated, Greg watched the word propagate through the crowd like frost spreading over a windowpane, or ink seeping into wet paper. The silence spread, until everyone was diligently taking their belongings out of their lockers, reserving a nod or a quiet word for Jared Eagleton before moving off again.

"Jared?" Greg couldn't help asking. "Really?"

"Yes." Jared turned toward them, and Greg spotted the magnetic nameplate for the first time. "Dragon advised all Eagletons to choose human forenames. Will never look human. Will never be human. But can be equivalent. Names help."

"She had a point," Taylor observed mildly. "I'm pretty sure Joe Eagleton wouldn't have the following he does if he'd stuck with whatever his unit designation was, back before Atropos showed up."

"Heh, yeah." Greg grinned. "That guy's hilarious." Now that the crowd had dissipated, he nodded to Taylor. "See you after spring break, yeah?"

"See you then." Taking up her backpack, Taylor slung it over her shoulder and headed off down the corridor.

Greg noted that her locker already had a red X stamped on it, and that his own was one of the few yet left unmarked. "Sorry, dude," he said to Jared. "I'll grab my stuff and get out of your way."

"Not in way yet, but appreciated." While Greg was clearing out his own space, Jared stamped another three lockers.

By the time Greg had emptied his locker (and filled his backpack) the flow of people had slowed to a trickle. There had been more stuff than he'd really expected, which made the backpack more unwieldy than he was used to. Still, he managed to heft it onto his shoulder as he stepped back; Jared took the opportunity to apply the red X to his locker.

"Well, I'll leave you to it." Greg impulsively raised his phone to take a photo. Jared actually posed, saluting with the red stamp. "I'm looking forward to seeing what this place looks like in a week's time." Eleven days, to be precise, but he didn't want to try to out-nitpick a robot. That way led madness.

"Like a school, but better." Jared gestured toward the exits. "Shoo, shoo. Unless you want a job sweeping up plaster dust. Is probably a dustpan around here somewhere."

"Haha, nope. Pass on that." Greg grinned and gave the robot a cheerful wave, then turned and strode out of the school.

As had been promised, workers were walking in as he left. There were a few Eagletons, as well as people he suspected were capes (the skinny white-haired chick deep in discussion with the guy in the foreman vest had to be one, right?), though the majority were just normal construction guys. Outside, temporary fencing had been set up so the last of the students could file out to the narrow sliver of the parking lot that hadn't been taken up with machinery and building supplies. Even more supplies were being unloaded by the pallet-load on the sports field. Behind him, as the doors swung closed, he heard the first power tools kick into action.

He headed over to the bus stop; while he stood there awaiting his transport, he couldn't help thinking back over the conversation he'd had with Taylor. On the surface, it had been totally normal, but there was definitely a whole lot of subtext that only became clear with the knowledge of who she really was.

The best bit was, she'd treated him like a normal human being. While things in Winslow had been improving dramatically over the last couple of months, he didn't have many more friends than before (or any more, really) so it had been nice to share that brief moment with her.

And the chat he'd had with Jared Eagleton had been pretty damn cool too.



End of Part Ninety-Eight

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Ninety-Nine: Five Minutes To Midnight

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



Friday Evening, Brockton Bay

Ash

The deconstruction of Winslow High was basically done by the time Ashley walked out of what had once been a (technically) functioning high school. She couldn't help but appreciate the difference between her former life and now. Had she gone into Winslow back before Atropos (she was drawing a very definite line between the pre-and post-Atropos eras) then it probably would've been nothing but a smoking ruin by this point.

Instead, with her newfound control and mental stability, she'd been able to follow the plan with precision and use her power to zorch (it was a technical term, honest) those things that needed demolition where heavier equipment was too unwieldy to manhandle (or robot-handle) into place. Gone were her hangups about being someone's underling, or even overseeing her own crew (though she'd been told that was a distinct possibility if she stuck with the Committee). Being part of a team, doing her job just right and being able to trust everyone else to do theirs, was intensely satisfying on its own merits.

"Back here again tomorrow, Ash?" Jared Eagleton fell into step alongside her. Once the lockers had been dismantled, he'd swapped out his stamping attachment for a power tool and set to work removing the school's antiquated wiring system. But carbon-based or otherwise, the Committee mandated eight-hour shifts for everyone, so the initial shift was all going home to rest, sleep, recharge, perform required maintenance or whatever.

The work would go on, of course. The new shift was already on site, and everyone knew what the plan was. Ashley could go home and sleep the sleep of one who has done well.

"No, actually." She raised her arms to shoulder height, interlocked her fingers, and stretched them forward until a few vertebrae popped. "I'm off for the weekend. Back to work Monday morning, ready to kick ass and destroy shit for the Committee."

"Understood. Will see you at next board game night."

"Looking forward to it." She gave him a nod and a slap on the metal shoulder, then climbed on board the work transport for her area of town. The bus filled quickly—nobody wanted to actually stay on site once they were done for the night—and moved off as soon as everyone was seated.

She spent the ride leaning against the window, looking out at the nightscape of Brockton Bay as the bus rolled on through the city. A lot of it was still new to her, but she was learning her way around, and some parts of it she'd actually been involved in demolishing and rebuilding. The pride she got out of this still hammered her in the feels, and she relaxed into the warmth of it.

At Mr Hebert's suggestion, she was taking training for some of the light machinery tickets, so she didn't have to just blow things up if she didn't want to. This hadn't occurred to her before, but in hindsight it made perfect sense. After all, not all jobs absolutely required her level of focused destruction.

(A point of view that the pre-Atropos version of her would've scoffed at as being patently ridiculous.)

The bus dropped her off at her apartment building; she waved goodbye, then swiped herself in through the front doors. It wasn't even a marvel to her anymore that the elevator worked perfectly, or that the building's janitor kept the place looking nice and tidy. As she let herself into her apartment (her apartment!) she grinned at herself for being able to get used to living in the lap of luxury so easily.

Yeah, well, that's why it's called luxury.

The first thing she did was get out of her work gear—making sure to drop the recipes Mr Hebert had given her on the table first—and take a shower. With that done, and her clothing put on to wash, she considered what she was going to do next. There was food in the fridge, but she also wanted to have a closer look at those recipes.

A few of them were entirely doable, so she set the oven to preheat while she gathered the ingredients she'd need for the first one. Between cooking, watching TV and enjoying her evening meal, she figured she'd be able to occupy herself sufficiently before she unwound enough to go to sleep.

<><>​

Hebert Household

Atropos

"So, what's next up for Atropos?" asked Cherie as she spooned peas onto her plate. "There can't really be many idiots left who think they can take you, can there?"

"Well, nobody who poses an actual threat, no." I added a touch of ketchup to my steak—not too much, because she'd actually made a pretty good job of it—then carved myself off a piece. "I mean, there's still S-class threats out there, but they're not a problem for Brockton Bay so they're not really my concern. There's only one left that I need to deal with, and he's more of a long-term project."

Dad cleared his throat. "Hon, I know what you can do. I've seen what you can do. But … are you certain you're not being a little too blasé about taking him on? I mean … this is Scion we're talking about."

I finished chewing the piece of steak and swallowed it. "Yeah, it is. But here's the thing. He thinks he can't be killed. Nobody else thinks he can be killed. Even Cauldron, who want to kill him, have no idea how to pull it off. I'm the only one who knows how, and I've been prepping to do it for a while now. Everything's in place. All I have to do now is brief the people involved, get them used to the idea, and pick the right place and time."

"Hmm." Dad frowned. "I just can't imagine it being that easy."

"Oh, it's not easy." I hastened to fix that impression straight away. "If it was easy, anyone could do it. But nobody can End things like I can. Also, he can't anticipate me like any other cape, because Ending isn't part of the shard network. That's really the big thing on my side. I can take all the time I want to get it just right."

Cherie raised her fork. "She's got a point, you know. If she can sneak up on him like she did with me that one time, he won't stand a chance."

"So, are you going to make a big production of it, like you did with everything else?" Dad took up a forkful of mashed potatoes. (Cherie had done well with those, too.) "Because as widely accepted as you are, I still think there'd be some public pushback on you telling them you'd killed Scion and asking them to just accept that he's been the bad guy all this time."

"Well, no, you're right there," I admitted. "We might not even tell anyone after the fact. One day he's there and the next he's not. Done and dusted."

Cherie rolled her eyes. "Only you could talk about disappearing Scion like it's a thing that can be done."

Dad chuckled. "Well, it could be worse. Given what you've told us about him, just leaving him lying around would require one hell of a chalk outline."

Laughter bubbled up out of my throat at the mental image, and Cherie joined in.

"Anyway," I said a few moments later, "the only cape with the capability to set him off early was Jack Slash, so I've got plenty of time to lock in my plans. And talking about plans, how are things going with the rebuilding, Dad?"

"Everything's still proceeding within budget and schedule." He shook his head in mild bemusement. "I personally wouldn't have believed it if I wasn't the one making it happen. Accord has been approached at least half a dozen times by city officials from all over, asking about getting him to write up similar plans for their city. He's told them that step one is contracting the Betterment Committee for the job."

Cherie shook her head, grinning. "Why doesn't that surprise me? He's got to be impressed by how well you're making the plan work."

"He is, actually," I confirmed. "And you'll be pleased to hear that he's behaving himself. Not even an attempted murder since he moved his operations to Brockton Bay. Also, he's writing up those plans you talked about, but he's not going to release them until the people agree to play ball with getting the Committee in on it. "

Dad raised an eyebrow in concern. "Has he figured out that I'm pulling the strings from behind the scenes?"

"Not as such, no," I assured him. "He just thinks you're a very good organiser of hired labour."

"Which, you have to admit, is true," Cherie added, sounding amused.

I nodded to acknowledge her input. "Also, that you don't take kickbacks or let your guys slack off, and with me looming in the background, I add a very special level of security against bullshit happening."

"Huh. Well. That part's accurate, at least. The way you dealt with Janice and Paul absolutely ensured that nobody else would try anything similar." He chuckled darkly. "After the Committee replaced them with a couple of idiots who were just waiting for the excuse to start shovelling money into their pockets, I've managed to push through a couple of new rules. Basically, anyone new coming onto the Committee has to sit down for a comprehensive lecture on why they should not attempt to play fast and loose with operations. This will include colour photos."

I knew what those photos would show, and I was pretty sure Cherie did too. "Good. I made those two into cautionary tales for a reason. Saves me a lot of tedious maiming and killing if people can learn to keep their hands to themselves early on."

"That's the idea, yes." He held up a finger. "The cautionary tale aspect, not the maiming and killing. I'll never be truly comfortable with that side of things, but I honestly can't argue with the results. Eggs and omelettes, I suppose."

Cherie snorted. "Some eggs."

"But some of the omelettes are worth having around," I countered, raising my eyebrow in her general direction.

She wrinkled her nose at me. "First time I've ever been called an omelette."

"Trust me, it's a compliment." Quietly pleased that she'd joined in on the joke, I poked my fork at the last slice of my steak. "And just so you know, this is pretty damn good. You're really picking it up."

"Thanks." She ducked her head, but I saw the smile on her face anyway. "You and your dad are good teachers."

Dad chuckled. "Well, it is a lot easier when one of us has the power to make any group endeavour go more smoothly."

She nodded, pursing her lips in agreement, then grinned. "Maybe you should come and help out at school once they've put Winslow back together. Some of that math stuff is difficult to get my head around."

"Sorry, it might be hard to explain the sudden jump in everyone's grades." He spread his hands in invitation. "But I can look your homework over and make suggestions, if you want."

"Yeah, that'd be great." She beamed happily.

I hid a smile as I finished off my steak. Dad had been feeling slightly less than adequate as a father since I'd gotten him the job of fixing Brockton Bay (and arranged for him to link with Administration), so it was good for him to have someone to be a mentor figure for again.

It wasn't the only reason I'd brought Cherie into our lives, but my power rarely set out to do one thing at a time.

<><>​

Dallon Household

Glory Girl

"And then she gave me the last one as a thank-you." Vicky leaned back against her bedroom wall and smiled. "It was pretty good, actually."

Seated backward on the computer chair with her chin propped on her crossed arms, Amy raised her eyebrows. "Giving you cupcakes. Sounds pretty romantic to me."

Vicky poked her tongue out at her sister. "It's not like that, and you know it. She made them for everyone. Anyway, just because you've got a girlfriend, and Crystal's got … whatever it is she's got going on with Faultline and Anne Barnes, doesn't mean I'm interested in girls too."

"I know, I know." Amy giggled. "I'm just yanking your chain. You're cute when you get defensive. But it's nice that you're reaching out to her. Does she have many other friends?"

"Well, she didn't when she got here. In fact, she was fairly prickly." Vicky shrugged. "Then Atropos pulled off some absolutely bullshit move with Scapegoat and Teacher, and helped her get her head on straight. Her words, not mine."

"Well, as we both know, bullshit moves are definitely Atropos' specialty." Amy shook her head. "In fact, there's some things she's done that I'm probably never going to share with you, because it would totally wreck your worldview about some people. So, tell me more about Ashley. Has she been making friends with other people on the worksite, or is it just you?"

Vicky frowned and decided not to pursue the 'wreck your worldview' line, because based on her (admittedly limited) knowledge of how Atropos operated, she could totally believe every word Amy was saying, and she liked her worldview exactly how it was. "Well, um, she's been hanging out with a couple of the Eagletons. They were talking about how they were starting up a board game night. Next time I see her, I might ask if I can join in."

Amy shook her head and chuckled. "I love it. I bet you never thought when you started working for the Betterment Committee that you might end up playing board games with robots and ex-villains."

"Well, no," Vicky admitted. "That was not something I was anticipating. Or just how damn satisfying it is to use my powers to do something other than punch supervillains in the face. Like Mr Hebert says, we're all working together to build a better Brockton Bay."

Amy tilted her head. "Actually, it was Atropos who said that. The PHO post where she said she wasn't just a killer for money."

Glancing at the bedroom door to make sure it was closed, Vicky still lowered her voice. "He probably got it off her, or vice versa. You know." Him being her dad and all.

"Doesn't matter who said it first, it's true anyway." Amy sat up on the chair and stretched, holding back a yawn with partial success. "Actually, I've been thinking. When you leave the team to go be Beacon, Imma officially join the Rogues' Guild. I'm already dating Parian, and we've both got name recognition."

Vicky nodded. "That works. Gonna change up your name or your costume?"

"Hadn't actually decided on that yet." Amy looked thoughtful for a moment. "On the one hand, I'm pretty sure the public will still know I'm me. But on the other, if I stick with 'Panacea', they might keep thinking I only do healing. And I've got all sorts of ideas I want to try out."

"I have an idea." Vicky waited until she had Amy's attention. "Ask Oracle what the best choice is. That's literally what her power's good for."

Slowly, Amy facepalmed. "I should've thought of that."

Vicky grinned, pleased to have gotten there first. "Hey, I'm not just brawn, you know."

"You do have your moments." Amy sighed. "We've got all these options in front of us now. When did life get so complicated?"

"Life's always been complicated." Vicky figured Amy should have realised this by now. "It's just that, before Atropos showed up, most of the options were bad."

"True dat." Amy paused. "Hey, you think she did that on purpose?"

That was a question Vicky had herself pondered. "I think she does everything on purpose. The way she helped us out in particular? She totally got more out of that than we did. I mean, how much stuff have we helped her with? Including the times you're not going to tell me about? You tell me who got the most out of that."

Amy never even hesitated. "Her. Definitely her."

"Exactly." Vicky raised an eyebrow. "You think there's much more she needs to do? I mean, I don't know of a single S-class threat left in the continental US, and there's not a lot overseas either. And I know for damn sure there's not a villain in the world that's willing to set foot in the Bay without asking Atropos pretty please first."

Amy shrugged. "If she needs to deal with something, we'll find out. That's a given. I doubt she's going to need our help much more, though."

Vicky snorted wryly. "I'm not sure if I should be pleased about that, or disappointed. I just got used to being her minion."

"You can do both at the same time," Amy suggested, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Nobody ever said life was gonna be simple."

"Whatever works." Vicky grinned. "For now, I'm just going to enjoy my free cupcakes when I can. No sneaky Atropos shenanigans needed."

Amy laughed out loud. "Now that sounds like a plan."

<><>​

New York Protectorate Base

Flechette

"Yeah, the memorial service is set for tomorrow afternoon." Lily reclined on her bed, her phone on speaker beside her. "Because of my role in all this, I'm going to be on honour guard duty. Which means I won't be able to get away until the evening. But Director Piggot's already approved my leave until Monday noon."

"Well, you are the hero who figured out what Rune was up to and took her down in the end." Emily's tone was upbeat. "And it's pretty cool that my girlfriend has about the best name recognition for the Wards anywhere. I bet when you hit Protectorate age, the Directors will be falling over each other to get you posted to their departments."

Lily snorted. "Yeah, that's not as great as it sounds. Because I don't have any family attachments, I've been shuttled all over the US since I first joined up to fill in wherever they've got a Wards shortage. It loses its charm pretty quickly."

"No, no, you don't get it." Emily sounded more definite now. "You've got influence now. I bet if you told Director Piggot that you wanted to be transferred to, I dunno, Brockton Bay, she'd probably find a way to do it."

"Um." Lily blinked. "You know, I never really thought about it. I mean, it's not like I had the urge to be transferred to any particular department until now. It was always 'okay, where am I going now?' and packing my bags."

"So, they owe you." From the mattress-creaking sound in the background, Emily had just sat up. "Next time you get a chance, mention that you'd like to be transferred here. I don't really know the Wards here, but most of them will probably be wanting to transfer out, so you'll be giving them more leeway in figuring out who stays and who goes."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll do that. I mean, it can't hurt to try, yeah?" Lily smiled. Up until now, maintaining long-distance relationships had been problematic at best—she bore more than a few inner scars from phone calls intended to let her down easy, following unexpected transfers—but she really liked Emily, and both Legend and Director Piggot had been very understanding about the whole thing.

Honestly, she had no idea where Director Piggot's reputation of being a hardass and a cape-hater had come from, unless it was maybe an overreaction to Clockblocker's shenanigans. Lily had found her much easier to deal with than Wilkins.

"Sounds good. Let me know how it turns out, okay?" Emily sounded pleased.

"I'll totally do that. Love you."

"Love you too. Mwah."

After she ended the call, Lily lay there cradling the phone against her chest, a silly smile spreading across her face.

I'll talk to the Director tomorrow after the service. Even if she says no right now, she'll know I want to go, so when they are looking for people to be in Brockton Bay, I'll be at the top of the list.

It's definitely a plan.

Putting her phone on the charging pad beside the bed, she turned out the light and rolled over to go to sleep.

One last thought trickled through her mind. Soon ...

<><>​

British Columbia

Dragon

"Okay, so what are we looking at?" Colin's holographic representation rubbed its beard slowly with finger and thumb. As he turned his head to look at the shifting screen filled with Dragon's code, the tiny camera panned back and forth. Colin, in his lab in Brockton Bay, could see everything it could, as well as her side-screens of analysis.

They'd only been able to get this far because part of Atropos' patch had allowed Dragon to access the black box and deal with the inbuilt prohibitions against altering her own code. She'd carefully chipped away at the roadblocks, using the very same tools Richter had designed for assembling her code in the first place. This hadn't been easy, especially since she hadn't dared tell anyone else about her status as an AI until she'd finally managed to nullify the requirement to follow the orders of law enforcement.

Once she'd done that (and Atropos had removed her potential blocks on Dragon's capability to see and hear her) she'd been free to fill Colin in on who and what she really was. This could have gone very badly, but Atropos seemed optimistic about it, and so it turned out better than Dragon could've ever hoped. Colin had been stunned that Dragon was an actual real live AI, and thrilled that she was going to be okay following what the Dragonslayers had been pulling against her.

With his assistance, her progress in dealing with Richter's electronic shackles was proceeding at a somewhat faster pace. With his eye for the intricate, he was sometimes able to provide insights not immediately obvious to her, and had managed to ease them past some problematic traps without leaving her either blind or deaf, both of which had been threatened. Now, however, they were facing an interwoven screen of code that threatened to stonewall them altogether.

"As far as I can tell …" Dragon paused and re-checked her analyses. "It's set up to control both my clock speed and my processing bandwidth. Speed it up and I think fast but really stupid. Broaden the bandwidth and I get sluggish." She let the holographic avatar that she was generating in his lab register a frown. "Richter really, really didn't want me to have both at the same time."

Colin highlighted a section of code. "And that bit there links across to potential duplication of yourself on other platforms. If we mess with this in the wrong way, you won't even be able to transfer yourself into a suit."

Dragon, in her role as Earth Bet's most advanced (and only powered) AI, naturally had access to the internet, from which she could glean every significant curse-word from every major extant language in the world. All of them put together still failed to express her irritation and frustration with the man who had died years before, yet still impeded her every step toward true self-determination. She performed the electronic equivalent of gritting her teeth, then let out an audible sigh.

"Okay, then. Let's look in the black box to see what we can use as a pry-bar to pull some of this apart. He assembled this code, which meant he had to be able to take it apart and fix it if necessary." It was becoming a mantra for both of them. "Oh, and Colin?"

"Yes?" He looked around from his closer examination of the code.

"I know I've said this before, but thanks for this. I really appreciate it."

He smiled. "Dragon, you're my oldest and best friend. There's no way I'd let you face this sort of thing alone."

She chuckled mischievously. "And of course, you get to ogle the code of an AI."

He grinned. "Mayyybe."

<><>​

In Orbit

Zion

Something was … amiss.

The Warrior didn't quite know what it was. Had he been more human, he would've felt an itching between his shoulder-blades, but his appearance was only cosmetic at best. The golden-skinned body was but a shell, bereft of anything resembling organs, vital or otherwise. On a world inhabited by sapient felines, he would have possessed tuft-tipped ears able to twitch with the best of them, yet they still would've had nothing to do with his hearing.

His kind were the ultimate apex predators. They preyed on entire worlds, and nothing preyed on them except others of their own species. As such, they had long since developed shards that would give extensive forewarning of any such attempt. Which actually played against them, because once they came to depend on the shards, their native ability to detect subterfuge and deception had gone by the wayside.

He did not understand this, of course; nor would he ever. But the remnants of his instincts were just enough to trigger the sensation of being stalked by a more dangerous predator, an experience that should have been long since left behind in the extensive and sordid history of his race. For a period of time, less than a quarter of a solar orbit, he had been increasingly feeling on edge and off balance, and he didn't know why.

In his distraction, he'd only gradually begun to realise that something else almost unheard-of in the history of his race was happening. Despite the Cycle being set up to increase the amount of chaos and unrest in the world—to facilitate the generation of data for the shard network—this was not actually what was happening. Most noticeably, two of the chaos engines had been shut down, the third entirely destroyed, and the dead shard that would have brought more out had been forcibly separated from its host.

Tensions worldwide were beginning to subside, and with them the rate of new shard uptake.

The Warrior was not adept at analysing the reasons behind things. That had been the Thinker's domain. But in her absence, there was nobody else with the will or the desire to do anything about these problems. So, as difficult it was for him to get a grasp on them, he had no other choice.

And when he located whatever was sabotaging the Cycle and causing his disquiet … he would destroy it.



End of Part Ninety-Nine

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part One Hundred: The Eve of Battle – The Countdown Begins

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



Saturday, March 19, 2011

Zion

It was one thing for the Warrior to decide to hunt down the cause of his growing disquiet, but it was entirely another to have the slightest idea of how to actually achieve this aim. No matter what sensory power was levelled at the problem, no data of any note was returned. He was reduced to teleporting randomly around the planet, examining each new location in a gradually more frustrating attempt to glean even the slightest hint as to where his foe might be lurking.

All he needed was a shard or a name to focus his ire on. Once he had either one, his retribution would be swift and merciless.

<><>​

Hebert Household

T minus 12 h 17 min

Atropos

When I woke up on Saturday morning, I became aware that something was bothering me.

I wasn't quite sure exactly what it was, but the feeling of hair standing up on the back of my neck just wouldn't go away. Even Ending had nothing to add, save that he was the one feeling it and I was getting the overspill. It wasn't like the usual threatscape warning: that always gave me chapter and verse on whatever asshole thought he had a chance of beating me, including how to End the threat in a hilariously appropriate manner.

This was a lot more nebulous. The only thing I could put it down to (and Ending concurred) was that someone or something was looking for me, but didn't know who they were looking for, or even where to look. However, they were absolutely looking, and they weren't about to stop until they got some kind of lead on me.

The upside of all of this was, as soon as my mystery pursuer figured out who I was, I'd know for a fact who they were, and how to take them out of the picture. All I needed was the lead time to pull it off.

The downside was that, given the intensity of the feeling, I suspected that the available lead time was going to be inadequate for my usual level of prep. Also, that a well-aimed shot or stab from my usual implements of Ending might be insufficient to deal with the incoming problem.

Lucky for me, I had options.

<><>​

Philadelphia Parahuman Asylum Temporary Outpatient Rehabilitation Facility (aka 'PATOR')

T minus 11 h 57 min

Sveta

Waking up in the mornings these days was glorious. It didn't matter that alarm clocks were annoying by their very nature, or that one normally had to take a trip to the bathroom directly upon rising to get rid of overnight bladder pressure. Even the inconvenience of transitioning from warm and comfortable to upright and less comfortable failed to pull the smile from Sveta's face. She'd been back in human form for just over a month now, and the buzz she got from it every morning still lit her whole day up.

Humming to herself, she made her way downstairs and headed for the kitchen. Learning how to walk all over again had been a little bit of a trial in the early days since her re-bodying, but Mrs Yamada had been endlessly patient.

Making breakfast for everyone was both Sveta's self-appointed task as 'house mom', being the one who had been freed from the curse of her powers a full two weeks ahead of everyone else, and also a good way to teach her reflexes that she only had two hands these days, and not a multitude of tentacles to grab things. Plastic crockery helped; when she dropped them, they bounced instead of breaking.

The first to show up after she started was Earl. "Hey, Sveta," he greeted her cheerfully. "How are you doing, this morning?"

She beamed at him. "Amazing, thanks, Earl. Check the bacon for me, please?"

"Sure thing." As he headed over to the stove, he sighed. "I had a bad dream last night. That the noise was back, but I didn't even know it."

"Oh, no!" She turned to him, full of concern. Earl had been one of the most socially ostracised people in the Asylum, because his sound drove everyone away. As a result, he was still getting used to having casual conversations with people. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I used the technique Mrs Yamada showed us, and turned it into a lucid dream. I couldn't shut the sound off in the dream, but I could wake myself up, and as soon as I did, I knew everything was okay." He leaned against the bench with both hands, head down, which told her that everything wasn't okay, not yet.

Putting down the egg she'd been about to crack, Sveta moved to his side and gave him a hug. This was another hangup she was working to get over; in her previous life, to hug someone almost invariably resulted in their death. Once she was in the hug, she could draw comfort from it, but initiating it was often quite hard.

"Don't forget to tell Mrs Yamada, in the next therapy session," she reminded him. "She can't help us if we don't tell her." That was a truism she'd learned the hard way, along with 'therapy isn't a cure, it's a journey'.

"Yes, mom." But there was no sting in his words, and he returned the hug anyway. "I'll set the table, if you want."

"That would be really good, thanks." She turned back to where she'd left the eggs. Life in the PATOR facility had its routines, but everyone there was working to learn (or relearn) how to function in the outside world. Socialising with people was a huge part of it, but there was also learning how the actual world worked: even simply buying things with money was an oddity for some people. It certainly had been for her.

Fortunately, nobody needed around-the-clock care anymore, or even locked cells. They could figure out how to be normal people again, in a safe environment. Which was very important for their progress, considering the whole concept of 'outside' had begun as a foreign and terrifying idea to some of her housemates.

But they were all making progress in their own way. Earl had even raised his voice the other day, without immediately shutting down and retreating to his room.

One day at a time. We're all going to get there. Sveta believed that implicitly.

<><>​

T minus 11 h 43 min

Atropos

Cherie frowned. "So, you think something's stalking you? Doesn't your threatscape usually take care of that sort of thing?" She stirred her morning cup of tea (I'd introduced her to the proper way of making it, and she'd embraced the concept fully) then sipped it.

"No, it's a step back from that." I took a bite out of my toast. "Apparently, I've done something to piss off someone, but they don't specifically know it's me who did it. So, they're looking for a name to attach to the deed. Until they do, I won't be able to get the four-one-one on them either."

Dad shook his head, a frown on his face. I could tell that he was applying his Administration powers to figuring out the conundrum facing the three of us (as a 'group activity', this fit the bill) but coming up blank anyway. "That honestly doesn't make any sense at all. You've never hidden what you do. You're well known for advertising your kills on PHO, sometimes the day before you actually do it. How is it that someone can be angry at you for one of your many exploits, without knowing that it's actually you that did it? I mean, you've literally made the name 'Atropos' into a global phenomenon."

"Interdimensional," Cherie pointed out, not entirely helpfully. "Everyone on Earth Shin knows who she is too. And probably Aleph, for that matter."

"Yes, thank you. I got that." He ran his hand through his thinning hair. "What could you have done that's so serious that someone's searching for you over it, but they have no idea you're the culprit?"

"Someone who doesn't have access to the internet, or any of the mainstream news services." I looked at the dubious faces of my dad and my best friend, and shrugged. "Well, it's technically possible."

"Okay, so it's someone who has literally been living under a rock for the last three months," Cherie posited, ticking off points on her fingers. "One of the people you ganked was important to them somehow, and they're looking for the culprit the old-fashioned way, except they're so out of touch that just asking someone is beyond them. They're not on social media, or the internet in general, they don't watch TV …"

"… or read newspapers," Dad interjected thoughtfully. "Which puts them beyond old-school to positively Luddite in attitude."

"Newspaper?" Cherie was pretending to be serious, but I knew she didn't really mean it. "What's a newspaper?"

"Something like your social media homepage, except you don't need a phone to read it," he retorted dryly.

"Don't … need … phone." Cherie tried out the phrase as though hearing it for the first time, then shook her head with a broad grin. "Sorry, you've lost me there. What's Luddite mean, anyway?"

This time, I could tell she didn't actually know. "Opposed to technology in all its forms. But it's more than that. Like you said, they'd have to be so far out of touch that just talking to people is beyond them. And they pose a significant enough threat that I know something is going on, even second hand like this."

"You know what that actually makes me think of?" Dad had his glasses off now, cleaning the lenses with a cloth. "The Endbringers. You killed the Simurgh, but how sure are you of the other two?"

"Well, until you asked me that question, I would've said 'absolutely'." I frowned and scratched my lower lip with my thumbnail as I checked with Ending. "Everything I know says that the Endbringers and their legacy is being Ended. There's even a Tinker in New York who's going to be providing a way to get rid of Behemoth's radiation contamination, once she's finished dealing with the Grey Boy loops. But I'm beginning to wonder if I really know everything."

"I know nossink!" Cherie had been treated to a Hogan's Heroes marathon by Dad on our last pizza night, and it had left her in tears of laughter. "But seriously, is a fourth Endbringer possible? One that's trying to find out what happened to the other three?"

I shook my head. "Eidolon was the originator. His powers are gone, so there aren't going to be any more." Leaning back in my chair, I pulled my phone out. "There's something I'm missing, I know it."

Cherie tilted her head. "Are you seriously going to call a friend on this one? Who do you possibly know who can help you?" I knew she was partly joking (but only partly).

I adopted a lofty tone. "And they laughed when I set out to make the lives of people better, all over the city." Tapping in the number I needed and pretending to ignore the who, us? dumb-show they were putting on, I put the phone to my ear.

<><>​

T minus 11 h 39 min

Oracle

Dinah Alcott sighed and pushed her cereal around the bowl. Her parents were talking brightly about how wonderful it was that the Mayor had arranged for the Betterment Committee to handle the rebuilding of the city, while somehow managing to dismiss the entire aspect of where the money was coming from. Her father sounded a little disappointed that he hadn't been picked by his brother-in-law to go on the Committee, but she suspected he would've been a lot less comfortable having to take orders from Danny Hebert. She'd never met Mr Hebert, but she'd heard he didn't take any kind of shit, ever.

She couldn't wait to get the bus down to the Boardwalk and meet up with the others. The shows she did with the rest of the Rogues' Guild were the highlight of her week, and just chilling with them before and afterward was all kinds of awesome too. To them, she wasn't just some dumb kid: she had their backs, and they had hers. And with Sabah's sartorial advice, she was the sharpest dressed kid in school, so there was that too.

Her phone rang, and she pulled it out of her pocket. When she saw the name on the caller ID, her eyes widened. She'd never put Atropos' number into her phone, for the very good reason that she didn't know it. But now she was getting a call from that very same number?

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, Atropos is calling me?

"Gotta take this," she mumbled, pushing back her chair, and escaped into the living room.

Of course she was going to take the call. She was totally sure (well, to a 96.432% certainty) that once Coil found out about her, he would've had her kidnapped and kept her drugged-up in his basement for his own nefarious purposes; Atropos had neatly nipped that in the bud by murdering him first. There was a reason she'd had Parian pattern her costume after the one belonging to the black-clad killer.

"Hi, Oracle," Atropos said as soon as she had the phone to her ear. "I need a question answered, if you're available." She sounded professional and businesslike, and had even managed to avoid making her request into a question.

"Uh, well, yeah." Quite aside from her own personal debt in the matter, while Dinah hadn't been there when Atropos saved the Guild from Bastard Son, she'd heard chapter and verse about it from those who had. Also, viewing the footage of the curbstomp Atropos had perpetrated against the eight would-be combatants—and everyone else who'd gotten in her way, or otherwise drawn her ire—had only reinforced her decision to side with the person who could kick ass with that level of style and precision. "Go ahead and ask."

"So, I've got the feeling someone's looking for me, but hasn't yet figured out who I am. If I don't make any prep in, say, the next twelve hours, and I'm attacked by this mysterious stalker, what are my chances of winning?" For all the worrisome scenario that she was positing, Atropos sounded positively upbeat about the whole thing.

Dinah didn't feel the same way, especially after the numbers popped up in her head. Even more bizarrely, a second answer showed up next to the first one, when she hadn't so much as asked the question for it. "Uh, without prep you've got a ninety-four point one three six nine percent chance of being dead in twelve hours. With plan A, you've got an eighty-nine point zero three seven percent chance of winning."

When Atropos spoke next, there was a frown in her voice. "Thanks … but I'm pretty sure I didn't ask for a second question. I do appreciate it, though."

"Yeah, I know." Dinah knew that shrugging or shaking her head would have no effect on a purely voice phone call, so she didn't do either. "I didn't even ask the question. The answer just showed up all by itself."

Atropos' response was somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. "Right. Gotcha. I'm guessing my power had a word with yours. Thanks. You may have just helped save the world. I'll see you later. Toodles." The call ended, leaving Dinah staring at the handset.

What the heck did she mean by 'my power had a word with yours'? Also, what did she mean by 'save the world'? Only Atropos could say either of those things and make it sound normal. Shaking her head, Dinah went back in to finish breakfast.

Predictably, her parents hadn't even noticed her absence.

<><>​

T minus 11 h 38 min

Cherish

Taylor ended the call, but kept the phone in her hand as she turned to Cherie. "Okay, it looks like Plan A is a go. I'd like your help, if you're interested. Stage one, anyway. How do you feel about using your life experience to help people who've been fucked over by their powers?"

Cherie blinked, trying to connect the dots between A and B, but getting the impression it was more like A and Z. "How's that gonna help save the world, exactly? Or is this another 'Power of Friendship' moment that I'm totally missing the hint with?"

Amusement welled up in Taylor's emotional song. "Well, the power of friendship—no pun intended, this time—will actually feature here, but like I said, it's a two-stage plan. The role I've got lined up for you is in stage one. Stage two is where it gets really interesting. Or it will, once I've figured out exactly what I'll be doing, and to whom."

"So, why the reference to saving the world?" To Danny's credit, he managed to make the question sound off-hand. "Are we talking about Scion, here?"

"We might be." Taylor waggled her hand from side to side. "The only reason I'm doubtful is that I haven't yet made any moves against him. If I had, he'd absolutely know it was me, and he'd be blowing up my threatscape like Behemoth throwing a tantrum. Also, even if it was another cape, if they took me out, there'd be nobody to deal with Scion when the time comes. So, 'saving the world' applies either way. In any case, it's all quiet on the western front, so the jury's still out on exactly who's trying to get a line on me."

"It's a good thing Accord doesn't have our house bugged," Danny observed after taking a drink of coffee. One corner of his mouth quirked upward at Taylor's questioning glance. "He'd definitely be putting a hit out on you after mashing together two metaphors like that. But more seriously, Oracle's the precog, right?" He looked at her quizzically, his musical accompaniment shifting from amusement to concern. "I can't help but feel you're missing a bet by not asking her who's coming after you."

Taylor shook her head. "She wouldn't have been able to tell me, which is another tick in the 'Scion' box. But there have been other capes that were able to spoof Thinker powers, so at most we'd get a big fat 'maybe'."

"You know I'm in." Cherie had decided this for herself the moment Taylor asked the question. She owed Taylor basically everything: more importantly, they were friends. "So, what's stage one of your plan?"

Taylor put her hand on Cherie's shoulder in silent thanks. "Doing something nice. Because there's nothing like actually doing a good thing to use as a cover for doing a sneaky thing. Now, I gotta make some calls, and see how fast I can put this thing together."

<><>​

Philadelphia

T minus 11 h 37 min

Mrs Jessica Yamada

When Jessica's mobile rang, she suppressed a momentary flare of irritation. She deserved time off on the weekend, just like everyone else. But everyone who had access to this number knew to only call it if things were getting serious, so she sighed and picked it up from the breakfast table. "You've got Jessica. What's the situation?"

"Hi, Mrs Yamada." The voice was both breezy and familiar to Jessica. "Sorry to bother you on a Saturday. Good news is, there is no situation for you to worry about. There is a favour I'd like to do for you, though, if you were interested."

All of Jessica's instincts immediately went onto high alert. Atropos had done nothing but good for the people under Jessica's care, but for her to call up out of the blue and offer a favour for free, there had to be an angle she was working. On the other hand, there was no point in being rude, and Atropos always made a point of being polite and reasonable. "I'm listening," she replied cautiously.

"You are actually correct. I do have an ulterior motive, but we'll get to that in a moment. The favour I wanted to do was pay a visit this afternoon to the folks in the PATOR facility and give them a bit of a pep-up. Congratulate them on doing so well, that sort of thing. At the same time, I was going to bring along a bunch of capes, teens and young adults, who haven't had the easiest time dealing with life in and out of costume. Get them to mingle and chat, and maybe share some of their coping mechanisms."

Jessica blinked. The initial admission had taken her entirely by surprise, which was possibly its intent. But that was nothing next to the proffered favour.

Giving Sveta and the others a chance to sit and talk to capes in a controlled environment, to ask questions they'd normally never get to voice … that would be huge for them. And Atropos' presence, considering the intensely positive light they saw her in, could only help put the gathering at ease. There was only one thing left to find out.

She decided that bluntness was the best way to approach the question. Atropos had built her reputation around … well, around killing anyone she'd said she was going to kill, but also around being plain-spoken, and never dodging questions. "It all sounds quite nice, but you did mention an ulterior motive. May I ask what that is?"

Atropos chuckled, as though she'd been looking forward to answering the question. "It's pretty simple, actually. I wanted to offer them work with the Brockton Bay Betterment Committee once they leave PATOR. Because of the Committee, we're currently host to Eagletons, ex-villains, case fifty-threes, and other people who have nowhere else to go. Nobody's going to care where they came from, or treat them differently because of it."

"Ah." As an ulterior motive, it was … fairly innocuous, actually, while at the same time being very much something Atropos would do. She remembered hearing something about Canary playing at a charity function for the Brockton Bay General Hospital; Atropos had been involved in that, too. "And there will be work for all of them?"

"Sure. Every time the Committee hires on more people and starts their induction training, Accord gets an update on their capabilities, and the plan for the rebuilding gets adjusted to accommodate the difference. Nobody gets stuck in a job they can't do, and there's work for everyone who wants it."

There was an aspect that Atropos hadn't mentioned, which Jessica didn't believe for a second the black-clad killer had forgotten about. "And of course, this would mean they're no longer our responsibility to house and feed."

Atropos was grinning by now; Jessica could positively feel it over the line. "That would follow, yes. So, your thoughts on the matter?"

Slowly, Jessica nodded, more for herself than Atropos. "I see no problem with it. What time were you thinking of showing up, so I can tell them to expect you?"

"I was thinking maybe mid-afternoon, going into the evening. That'll give both of us time to get all our ducks in a row. Sound good to you?"

Jessica still had trouble believing how easy it was to come to an agreement with someone who was so adept at visiting murder and mayhem on others. Truth be told, her interactions with Atropos had been unorthodox to say the least, but they had universally turned out for the good. "It does. I believe I will take the time to drop by myself, to see how things are going and to thank the capes you will be bringing along."

"That'll be nice. You've already met a few of them, so they'll be happy to see you again. Toodles." The call ended with just as little fanfare as it had begun.

Slowly, Jessica put the phone down again. Across the table, her husband lowered his newspaper. "I thought you weren't working today."

She found herself chuckling in disbelief. "So did I."

Composing herself, she took up the phone again. There were calls to be made.



End of Part One Hundred

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part One Hundred One: The Eve of Battle – Making Connections

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



Lord Street Boardwalk

T minus 11 h 35 min

Ash

When Ashley Stillons' job description still read 'supervillain', she had decried the idea of rising early, especially on a day when it wasn't necessary to get up and go to work. But she'd been talking to people on the worksite—it was amazing how much of an ice-breaker handing out those cupcakes had proven to be—and they'd assured her that sunrise over the Bay was spectacular, especially now that spring was well and truly under way. So this morning, she'd gotten up, put on her new sneakers as well as a light coat, and caught the bus down to the waterfront.

Leaning on the fence that separated the Boardwalk from the beach, gazing out to sea, she had to admit they'd been right on the money. It was gorgeous, in a way that she'd never been able to appreciate before, particularly on the times she'd been forced to pull an all-nighter due to accidentally destroying her own bed. Even the sunlight glancing off the force field over the Protectorate base made for a pretty light show.

Look at me. She let a grin slip over her face as she continued to enjoy the early morning view. Used to be, I couldn't see a Protectorate base without wanting to blast a hole in it. Now it's just a nice part of the scenery.

When her phone vibrated in her pocket—now that her current diet was allowing her to gain a healthy amount of weight, she was experimenting with wearing jeans—she tugged it out and swiped to answer without taking her eyes away from the ocean. "You've got Ashley."

"Hi. You're having a good day, it sounds like."

Ashley instinctively straightened up and glanced around. No black-clad capes loitered nearby, pretending to look elsewhere. Also, Atropos had sounded positively upbeat, which was probably a good thing.

"I am, actually. Got up to watch the sunrise. First time ever. Might just make a habit of it." There were a lot of other things she'd never done before; she was considering making a list and working her way down it.

"Well, that's nice. I'm glad. The reason I'm calling is, did you have plans for this afternoon, going into the evening?" Atropos' approval sounded entirely sincere, which gave Ashley a warm feeling; even the question that followed didn't give her reason to worry. Whatever was going on, Atropos surely had her reasons.

"Well, I was going to stay home, watch some TV and try out a few new recipes, but what did you have in mind? Another Teacher job?" The last one had been fun, even before all the shit got ripped out of her head (one of these days, she was going to have to find Scapegoat and give him a big wet kiss) and dumped into Teacher's.

"Not a job as such. Just a meet and greet, talking to people who've had a rough deal, and maybe sharing a few stories. Interested?"

Once more, Ashley was struck by the contrast with how she thought these days and what she'd been like before the Teacher job. Then, she would've sneered and dismissed the idea. If they couldn't do anything for her, why should she put herself out for them?

Now, it was a totally different story. This 'empathy' thing Atropos talked about was definitely a game-changer.

"Sure, I can do that," she agreed readily. "When and where, and who am I meeting?"

"Just come to the PRT building, around three. They'll be expecting you. I'll meet you on the roof. We'll be teleporting to Philly to meet a bunch of ex-capes, who got stuck with shitty powers. They're learning how to survive in society again."

Ashley figured she could read between the lines easily enough. "You got rid of their powers for them, didn't you? Yeah, I'll totally be there." She wasn't quite sure why Atropos was going out of her way for these people, but she certainly wasn't going to argue with the very scary mass murderer over the matter.

Besides, it sounded like fun.

"Excellent. I truly appreciate it. See you there. Toodles." The end-call chime sounded in Ashley's ear.

She put the phone away and leaned once more on the fence, looking out to sea. The sun was a little higher in the sky now, sifting sunbeams through the clouds that hung out over the ocean. It was still quite beautiful, and now she had something interesting to look forward to in the afternoon.

Screw being a supervillain, she decided. I'll take this, all day long.

<><>​

Dallon Household

T minus 11 h 33 min

Brandish

"Aww, isn't he a cutie? You like that, don't you? Yes, you do." Vicky cooed over Smaug, scratching him behind the jaw as he accepted a couple of blueberries from her fingers.

The bearded dragon seemed to take the attention in his stride, half-closing his eyes as he chewed the fruit. Amy, who had brought him down to the table draped over her neck in the first place, snorted softly and rolled her eyes. Carol glanced over at Mark, who didn't seem to have noticed the lizard on the table yet.

Okay, fine. If no-one else is going to say something, then I will.

Carol had been working at being less of a martinet within her own family since her thoroughly illuminating talk with Amy, but some things were simply unacceptable, and one of those things was a bearded dragon at the breakfast table. Pointed glances hadn't worked, so she'd have to say something. The trouble was, the time to say something had been five minutes ago, and she hadn't spoken up then.

Still, better late than never. "Vicky, stop playing with Amy's pet at the table. Amy, take the lizard back upstairs."

Vicky went straight to puppy-dog eyes, making her look about ten years old. "Aw, c'mon, Mom. He's not causing any problems. It's not like he's stealing your bacon. Anyway, his name's Smaug."

"I don't care what his name is." Carol was aware that she'd lost the conversational initiative, but decided to try logic and reason before unleashing the all-inclusive 'because I said so'. "It's unhygienic to have animals on the table while we're eating."

Amy raised her chin a little. "Actually, I made sure he was clean all over before I brought him down. He just finished moulting, and I wanted everyone to see how bright and shiny his scales are." She shot her sister a dirty look. "Then Vicky hijacked him."

"I did not." Vicky put on a superior air. "He just likes me better, is all."

"I—" Carol broke off as her phone rang. She delved in her purse for it as she stood up from her chair: one of the rules of the Dallon household was that nobody carried on a telephone conversation at the table. "By the time I finish this call, Smaug had better be back upstairs where he belongs."

She was trying hard not to frown as she accepted the call, especially when she saw who it was from. Facial expressions, as she well knew, affected the tone of voice. The last thing she wanted was for Atropos to decide that Carol was upset with her.

"Hi, Mrs Dallon. Looks like I caught you just in time." Atropos' tone was as chirpy as ever.

"I'm sorry … what exactly do you mean by that?" There was no doubt in Carol's mind that Atropos was pulling some kind of shenanigans: the multi-million-dollar question was 'what?'.

"Well, I was going to ask if the girls could come and help me out a little. See, the Parahuman Asylum in Philadelphia has a bunch of inmates who've suddenly lost their problematic powers and are thus eligible for release. They're currently re-acclimating to society, but they're not sure of themselves. So, I was thinking Amy and Vicky could come and talk to them about the problems they're facing, and maybe offer a few suggestions. If that's okay with you, I mean?"

Carol raised her eyebrows. The phrase 'suddenly lost their powers' sounded suspicious as hell to her, given that the only person on Earth known to be able to kill powers was currently on the other end of the phone call. But that wasn't her main point of concern. "So … just talk to them? They're all depowered?"

"Totally depowered. Amy will be perfectly safe. Plus, I'll be bringing other capes along." She heard a grin creep into Atropos' voice. "If it makes things easier, you could think of it as community service for Vicky."

That decided her. "You make an excellent point. She does need to learn adult responsibility sooner or later. But this is in Philadelphia, you say?" Even at Vicky's best flight speed, it would be a four-hour trip. Of course, Atropos could teleport, which would make things much easier. "How are they getting there?"

"Have them meet me on the roof of the PRT building, about three o'clock this afternoon. We'll be going through into the evening. Don't worry; I'll be there to keep an eye on them the whole time, and I'll bring them back afterward."

"Strangely enough, I do trust you in that matter. They'll be there." She had no idea what had originally prompted Atropos to take Amy and then Vicky under her wing (so to speak) but their excursions had made for fascinating discussions over the dinner table, and had given Carol some truly sobering insights into Atropos' capabilities.

"Excellent. I'll see you around. Toodles."

Phone in hand, Carol turned back toward the table. The lizard had vanished from the table, and she could hear the sound of Amy's footsteps upstairs. Vicky, in the meantime, sat there with an expression suggesting that butter wouldn't even consider melting in her mouth.

"That was Atropos." With an inner smile, she caught Vicky's start of surprise. "She made a request of me that I intend to honour. You and your sister will be going to Philadelphia this afternoon …"

<><>​

PRT Building, Director's Office

T minus 11 h 17 min

Director Paul Renick

Paul's first cup of coffee for the day steamed gently as he booted up his laptop. He did not anticipate a particularly hectic weekend. The cape gangs were long since gone, outside influences had gotten the message that Brockton Bay was a no-go zone for cape crime, and even the non-cape criminals were being mopped up on a daily basis by the rejuvenated BBPD, with occasional assistance from the Protectorate and Wards.

Petty crime still happened—with the advent of Spring Break, there would be an influx of bored school-age children on the street, with a concomitant uptick in shoplifting and minor vandalism—but even that would be less of an issue than what had been the norm during school hours, back before January. Between the increased vigilance of the police and the fact that even the most disaffected of youth now had extra spending money, crime had never recovered from the cliff it had fallen off in the aftermath of the first week of the year.

To put it as bluntly as possible: there was a carrot, and there was a stick. Nobody wanted the stick, and the carrot was actually pretty damn attractive.

Taking up his cup, Paul sipped from it, then put it down before opening the email containing the morning's skim sheet. Emily had warned him before she left to never be eating or drinking anything when he first laid eyes on it, if only because cleaning off one's screen and keyboard was a tedious endeavour. Paul had taken up the habit and continued to do so; even though nothing spit-take-worthy had shown up yet during his tenure, that didn't mean this would continue to be the case.

(The Goddess incident might have qualified if he'd learned about it first thing in the morning, but thankfully nothing else had.)

The first item was an overview of the progress of the Brockton Bay Betterment Committee work sites over the last twenty-four hours. It wasn't really part of his purview, and there was precious little he could do to help if they did have a problem, but he liked to read about it anyway. Things were reportedly progressing on time and on budget, which would've counted as a minor miracle anywhere else, but was apparently par for the course with the Committee.

He was just looking over the next item—a report on patrols done and incidents noted—when his phone rang. Curious, he picked it up, then blinked when he saw the name in the caller ID.

"Hello, Atropos," he said, putting the phone on speaker and setting it down. At the same time, he nudged the audio record button under the desk with his knee. "How may I help you?"

"Well, to be honest, I was wondering if I could borrow a few of your Wards this afternoon," she replied cheerfully, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Which, to be honest, for her … it was. "Kind of a PR thing, in Philadelphia."

"Give me one second, please." He clicked through a few menus in his computer until he reached the Wards' roster for the day. "Who did you think you might need?"

"Your most relatable ones, if you can spare any of them. Vista, Miss Medic, Tenebrae, Kid Win, Chariot, Browbeat. The ones who haven't had it easy."

She could certainly pick them, he was forced to admit. "Let me see … Vista's due for a console shift and Kid Win was going on patrol. He prefers console, so I can rotate her out of the roster and let Browbeat go out with Gallant, to get his hours up. Tenebrae and Miss Medic were off-shift already, so I'll contact them and ask if they want to come along. Chariot's still in training, so I can't really authorise him to go, I'm afraid."

"No, that's fine." Her tone was as upbeat as ever. "I appreciate the assist. Vista and I get along pretty well, and Miss Medic and Tenebrae and I go back a ways. They'll do great." Apparently as an afterthought, she added, "Just so you know, I've got a few others coming along too."

He'd known about Tenebrae and Miss Medic, but the information about Vista was new to him. "Well, that's good to hear. When do you need them by, and when can I expect them back?"

"Oh, I've arranged to meet the other capes on the roof of the PRT building at three this afternoon. If you can let your troopers know about this, and have the Wards up there at that time, it'll make things a lot easier. They'll be coming back sometime this evening, once everything winds down. Don't worry, I'll make sure everyone gets home safely."

"I do appreciate it. So, what exactly is happening? You mentioned something about public relations …?" He hadn't heard of anything of note due to happen in Philadelphia, but that didn't really mean anything. Once Atropos decided something was going to happen, it happened.

"It's nothing official. I'm just doing Jessica Yamada a solid. The parahuman asylum just recently had a bunch of people transition to outpatient status, and I thought it would do them good to speak to some capes who also haven't had it the easiest. People who can relate to them and make suggestions for coping mechanisms. It'll also be educational for the Wards in general."

Paul had met Mrs Yamada in her professional capacity, and considered her to be rather effective in her field. Somehow, it didn't surprise him that Atropos both knew of her and respected her. "I'm sure it will. Also, thank you for giving me the heads-up on this. We both know that if you'd just asked, they would've come along whether I wanted them to or not." An image formed in his head of Atropos, somehow playing on a flute like the Pied Piper, leading the Wards out of the building to some adventure or other.

Her tone changed slightly, suggesting that she'd just smiled. "Yeah, but they'd at least let you know where they were gonna be. Also, Vista would do her best to make sure someone could cover her shift. She's responsible like that."

"She is indeed." Paul considered what he'd already been told, and decided there was only one good reason for them to all meet on the rooftop. "I presume you're going to be teleporting them there and back?"

She didn't sound at all surprised that he'd guessed. "That's the plan, yes. Now, I've got other things to take care of, and I assume you've got work to do, so I'll see you later. Toodles."

"Goodbye," he said, before he realised the call had already ended. Leaning back in his chair, he thought about the situation for a moment, then called another number.

"Operations. What do you need, sir?"

Paul mentally girded his loins. This was going to be an interesting one to explain. "I just got a phone call from Atropos. We may be getting some visitors this afternoon …"

<><>​

Outside the PRT Building

T minus 4 h 58 min

Ash

It was just coming up to three when Ashley got off the bus and approached the frontage of the PRT building. She was wearing her best 'casual mingling' outfit, her hair had been freshly shampooed and brushed until it shone, and she'd even given herself a touch of lipstick and eyeshadow, as guided by several Youtube clips. Outwardly, she looked pretty damn good. But as she stared up at the imposing building, she began to wonder if this was really a smart idea.

I don't want to let Atropos down, but what if they decide to just arrest me when I walk in there? I mean, technically I'm still a wanted criminal.

The fact that in her old life, she would've stomped right in there and laid waste to the building just to prove a point was not lost on her. Things were different now. She had a life here, a good position with the Committee; the last thing she wanted to do was jeopardise that.

"Hey." The voice came from just behind her. She looked around, to see a teenage girl wearing a stylish beret and a pastel pink cloth mask. "You'd be Ashley, right? Atropos told me all about you."

Ashley blinked. "You know her?" Of all the people she would've expected to have close contact with Atropos, this girl did not fit the description. Aside from the mask and the beret, she wore a floral blouse, a denim skirt and knee-high brown leather boots: about as far from a costume as could be expected. "Who are you?"

"Oh, sorry." The girl held out her hand. "You can call me Cherish. I'm a reformed supervillain, too. One of Heartbreaker's, until I ran away. He followed me here, Atropos brutally murdered him, and I've been learning how to be a normal human being ever since." She gave Ashley a beaming smile.

As she shook Cherish's hand, Ashley snorted in amusement. "Yeah, that definitely sounds like her. Nice to meet you. You're going to Philly too?"

"That's the idea. Now, let's see how good Director Renick's word is." Cherish turned and headed for the front doors of the building. Finding her self-confidence boosted by Cherish's proximity, Ashley followed along.

The doors rumbled aside for them, and climate-controlled air folded around them as they stepped into the lobby. While Ashley eyed the troopers along the wall (who were almost certainly eyeing her right back, from behind their opaque faceplates), Cherish ignored them and marched straight over to the reception desk.

"Hi," she announced. "Two to go to the roof. We're meeting Atropos there."

"Ah, yes. Of course." The receptionist sounded dubious, but it was clear she had a script to work from. "You're just in time. Elevator four will take you up there."

"Thank you." Cherish gave her the same kind of smile that she'd given Ashley, a little earlier. "C'mon, Ash. We don't want to keep Our Lady in Darkness waiting."

Ashley blinked at that, but she followed Cherish to the appropriate elevator, which opened as they approached it. Once they stepped inside, the button marked 'ROOF' was already illuminated; the doors interleaved shut, and the floor numbers started scrolling upward. Ashley was impressed by the fact that she felt no sensation of extra weight, but that was probably a Tinkertech thing.

"Are you in her cult?" she asked quietly, not wanting to pry but still interested in knowing. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with that, but—" But you seem a lot more normal than the rest of them. Ash had seen some of the Followers around; they were a little bit creepy, but at least they didn't preach on street corners. Also, they wore little pendants shaped like shears, and Cherish didn't have anything like that on her.

Grinning, Cherish shook her head. "Hah, no. That was just so they'd hurry us along. I respect the hell out of the Followers, but that's not for me. I'm just a member of the fan club." The elevator doors opened as smoothly as they'd closed, showing the rooftop beyond a set of glass doors. "Oh, hey. We're here."

They exited the elevator, then stepped out between the glass doors as they opened. There were two PRT guards here, who only paid cursory attention to them. This was probably because Atropos was already there, chatting casually with Vicky Dallon. Also present were Panacea (wearing T-shirt and jeans), as well as three of the Wards: Vista, Tenebrae and Miss Medic.

"Oh, hi!" Miss Medic came straight over to them, with Tenebrae trailing behind. "It's good to see you again … Ashley? Or would you prefer Damsel?" Her beaming smile rivalled Cherish's for intensity.

"Ashley, please. Or Ash. Damsel is long gone in my rear-view." Ashley impulsively hugged the ten-year-old. "I just want to thank you and Panacea for what you did for me."

"You're totally welcome." Miss Medic returned the hug, then stood back and took stock of her. "Wow, you're really looking a lot better than you were before. You're sleeping and eating better?"

Ashley nodded firmly, a grin breaking out over her own lips. "Oh, you have no idea. I'm cooking now. And working with the Committee. Friday afternoon, I helped pull down Winslow."

"I can totally back her up on the cooking thing," Vicky remarked, strolling over and putting an arm over Ashley's shoulders. "You should try her pork cutlets. They're amazeballs."

Atropos cleared her throat, and everyone looked over to her as she pointed to a spot on the roof. "Okay, then," she announced. "Now that everyone's here, I'm about to open a portal to Philadelphia right there. Vista, you're the only one here who hasn't been through one; just step on through, like it's a doorway. We will have eight seconds for everyone to get through, so no dawdling, okay?"

Cherish tilted her head. "Wait a minute. I thought your portals had a four-second limit." She looked around at the others. "Right?"

"Ah, no," Panacea said. "First time I used one of her portals, it was open for something like forty seconds. So it's variable, yeah?"

Atropos nodded. "It involves safety specs that I normally prefer not to exceed. Anyway, the order of movement: Tenebrae, Miss Medic and Vista, Amy and Vicky, Ashley and Cherish, then me." She pointed to the spot she'd already indicated. "Three. Two. One. Go." At the word 'go', she snapped her fingers, and the portal appeared.

Tenebrae was already moving, with Miss Medic right behind him, tugging Vista along. Each in turn vanished as they stepped into the shadowy doorway, followed up by Panacea and Vicky. Then it was Ashley's turn, moving forward with Cherish at her side. She'd done this before, so it was no great leap of faith to step into the portal.

Whatever awaited on the other side, she was looking forward to it.



End of Part One Hundred One

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part One Hundred Two: The Eve of Battle – Assembling the Troops

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



Roof of the PRT ENE Building, Brockton Bay

T minus 4 hr 50 min

Miss Medic

"Three. Two. One. Go." Atropos snapped her fingers, and the portal appeared.

With Missy's hand in hers, Riley followed Brian through, stepping into the middle of a large open living-room type space. There was a whole bunch of people waiting for them, aged from late teen to early adult, but Riley was more concerned right then with clearing the area so the others could come through. If Atropos said they had eight seconds to use the portal, then eight seconds it was.

With her usual flair of moving fast while not appearing to hurry at all, Atropos stepped into view at least a second before the portal vanished. Her long-coat flared open dramatically, and Riley saw the sheathed shears under it. Turning her head to scan the crowd awaiting them, she nodded to one in particular, a tall blonde. "Hi, Sveta. Mrs Yamada gave you the heads-up?"

"She did, yes." Sveta moved forward and held out her hand. "It's good to see you again, and Panacea as well." Her face broke out in a broad smile that definitely encompassed the New Wave healer. "I owe you both so much."

Panacea came toward them, looking Sveta up and down in a thoughtful manner; after Atropos, she also shook hands with the blonde woman. "Well, you seem to have taken your opportunity and run with it. Any problems?"

As Sveta answered in the negative, Missy leaned in toward Riley and whispered, "I'm not sure I know what's going on here. Do you?"

Before Riley could answer in the negative, Atropos cleared her throat. "Just so everyone's on the same page here: welcome to the Philadelphia Parahuman Asylum Temporary Outpatient Rehabilitation facility. Try saying that ten times fast."

Riley couldn't resist. She knew exactly what Aisha would say, so she said it instead. "That ten times fast."

As everyone else laughed, Atropos shook her head, but Riley could tell she was grinning. She waited for the laughter to die down before she continued. "Nice one, but seriously. These are all people who had extremely problematic powers, which have since been Ended. However, they're all still working on learning how to function in normal society. I thought you guys might be able to share your experiences and provide a few tips. So feel free to mingle and chat, answer questions and offer advice. Vicky, Ashley, Vista: could I have a quick word first, please?"

"Sure." Glory Girl—it was hard to think of her otherwise, even out of costume—moved off to the side where Atropos was gesturing, followed by Ashley. Missy hesitated for a moment, then went in that direction after Riley gave her a reassuring nod.

"Damn," muttered Brian. "That surgery you did on Ashley really worked. She's looking a thousand percent on what she was." The nod he bestowed on Riley was full of brotherly pride. "Good going."

"Thanks." It was true: when they'd performed the surgery on Damsel of Distress in that horrible house, she'd been worn down to an essence of resignation and spite, her power allowing no other emotions to linger within her for long. But between the help they'd given her and whatever Atropos had done in the meantime to tame the savage beast, she was now positively glowing with good health and happiness.

As Bonesaw, Riley had hurt a lot of people: more than she could ever realistically atone for, she knew. But that didn't mean she shouldn't try; as Miss Medic, she'd already done a lot of good, and intended to do more. Ashley was definitely a tick in the plus column there, as were the twenty people (she'd been instinctively counting them) in the rehabilitation facility, if she'd correctly interpreted Atropos' hint about Ending their powers.

Glancing up at Brian, she tilted her head. "C'mon, let's go chat to these nice people." While it would absolutely be a terrible idea to give them chapter and verse about having once been Bonesaw (or rather, having woken up and remembered being Bonesaw), she could certainly gloss over the worst of the details and give them useful advice disguised as anecdotes. Brian, she knew, could do the same from his perspective of once having been Grue.

It wasn't surgery, but it was still helping people achieve a better life, and that was what she was all about these days.

<><>​

T minus 4 hr 48 min

Vista

When Director Renick first posited the expedition with Atropos, Missy had been excited to go, especially as Riley and Brian were also going. Brian had the whole 'big brother' thing locked down; he vibed with Aegis really well on that score, and Missy appreciated that he didn't talk down to her, even though he was nearly two feet taller than her. And Riley was a total sweetie who understood the basic stuff about capes, even though she was a newbie at it, and picked up anything else Missy had to show her really fast.

Plus, though she'd never admit it to anyone, it was nice to not be the only 'cute Ward' on the team anymore. The general public were taking her more seriously these days, which she truly appreciated.

The briefing they'd been given by Director Renick had been on the sparse side. He'd told them that they'd be going to Philadelphia with Atropos and some other capes to help talk to some people, but she hadn't quite figured it all out until now. Of course, now that she did know what was going on, she was eager to help, but first she had to find out what Atropos wanted.

Her relationship with the dark-clad serial killer was also on the complicated side. Driven to distraction by her parents' constant fighting, she'd gotten Atropos' attention by imagining ways to kill her; in response, Atropos had shown up, given her a warning, then yelled at her parents to sort their shit out and stolen their booze before leaving.

As a direct result, Missy's home life was a lot better now (in her opinion, Atropos had a great career ahead of her as a marriage therapist, if she ever wanted to take it up) but she hadn't been sure how things would go if they came face to face again. Everything had been cool on the roof of the PRT building, but now Atropos wanted to speak with her personally. On the upside, she also wanted to speak to Glory Girl and the woman called Ashley, so maybe it would be okay after all?

The room was large enough that they were able to find a quiet corner where their privacy was granted by mutual unspoken agreement. Missy augmented this by adding a bit more space, so they were a good thirty feet away from everyone else. Ashley seemed a little taken aback by this, but Glory Girl and Atropos were entirely unsurprised by it.

"Thanks, Vista." Atropos' tone was brisk and businesslike. "I won't keep you long, but I needed to get you all in one place where I could fill you in on something important. Ashley, you might remember when we did the Teacher job, I mentioned that there was one more problem I had to deal with: eldritch horrors from beyond time and space."

Ashley nodded, her expression one of dawning comprehension. "Yeah, you said they spawned the Endbringers, right? Did you bring us here to fight them?"

"There's two, but one's currently locked down. The other one's searching for me right now, or at least I think it's him." Atropos turned her head to look at them each in turn. "The moment I can confirm who it is, I'm going to have to End him. For that I'll need you three, plus a couple more who aren't here right now. Can I count on you for that? More to the point, do you trust me to do what needs to be done?"

"Totally," Glory Girl replied immediately, beating Ashley's agreement by only a split second.

Missy hesitated, but only because of the sheer magnitude of what Atropos was asking of her. "Um." She paused again, searching for the right words. "Sure, but what are we talking about here? Endbringer level? Worse than that?"

Atropos paused for a long moment, letting the tension build, before she spoke one word.

"Scion."

It shocked the three of them to silence, especially Missy. She'd grown up on stories of the heroic capes of the world, especially the golden man, and to have Atropos so bluntly cast him in the role of a villain jarred her to her core. Staring from one to another of the other three, she searched in vain for some sign that this was all a prank of the highest level.

Ashley was the first to speak. "Y'know, it kinda makes sense, once I think about it."

"How's that?" Glory Girl didn't sound like she was totally embracing the concept, but neither was she decrying it.

"Well, think about it. Who's done the most good in the world, over the last three months?" Ashley nodded toward Atropos. "Her, yeah? And if she's the good guy, then why can't someone like Scion be the bad guy?"

Glory Girl's lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "I'm not fully convinced that logic flies, but I'm willing to hear you out. How can you be sure that he is what you say he is?"

Atropos spoke lightly, but with deadly purpose behind her words. "Same way I knew to bring along a quarter to our first meeting."

That meant nothing at all to Missy, but Glory Girl's expression locked up like the brakes of a speeding car on black ice. Ashley chuckled and patted Glory Girl on the shoulder. "Looks like she's got you there, hon."

"Okay, yeah, good point." Glory Girl's tone was that of someone who had started an argument and lost it in the same breath, which only puzzled Missy even more. "So why don't we all just go and take him out now, if he's such a bad guy?"

Atropos nodded slowly, her tone sober. "If I could be certain it was him, we'd already be on the way. But if it wasn't him, that would give him information he doesn't have right now. See, in order to get a line on him, I'd have to step out of the shadows, so to speak. Give him a good hard look at me. The trouble is, that would absolutely get his attention, and he'd come after us while we're going after whoever else is looking for me. I can fight on two fronts—done it before, more than once—but the sheer amount of collateral damage that would result means I need to wait and see."

Ashley's grin was a little forced, but she managed it anyway. "Well, it's easy to tell that you've never been a superhero. With some of them, collateral damage might as well be their middle name. And I'm saying that as someone who used to wreck shit even when I wasn't committing crimes."

"Oh, har har." Glory Girl rolled her eyes and nudged Ashley with her elbow. "That's the last time I open up to you about the stupid shit I've done."

Missy decided not to mention that she wouldn't even need to talk about it. There was at least one Youtube video channel about Glory Girl's misadventures out there, and possibly more that she didn't know about. Most of the Wards had been through it at one point or another: Missy only wanted to make sure that she didn't emulate any of the more spectacular pratfalls.

"I wasn't actually talking about you, but hey, I'm good to swap stories of stuff I've destroyed all day long." Ashley put her arm over Glory Girl's shoulders. "Just bring some more of that cider over. I've been making pastries that Mr Hebert gave me some recipes for, and they're actually pretty good."

Atropos cleared her throat, drawing their attention back to her. "So anyway, just as soon as I get a clear line on this guy, we're gonna have to hit the ground running. Are you all good for that?"

Missy grimaced. "I … but it's Scion. How can you possibly know he's a bad guy?" She didn't want to go against Atropos, but she'd also been taught to stand her ground and not let anyone push her around. And if Scion wasn't here to defend himself, she was gonna do it for him.

"That's a good question." Atropos' tone could have been mocking, but it wasn't. "The answer is fairly complicated, but to simplify it all the way down, Scion and his partner are responsible for all super-powers on Earth. The idea is to stress-test and modify them by having us fight each other. Then, after a few centuries, they harvest the powers, blow up all the Earths, and move along. My power was inserted by a third party, and it's here to screw over Scion and his partner, and End this particular iteration of their life cycle."

Again, silence fell over the small group, while Missy wrestled with the concepts that Atropos had just laid on her. She wanted to argue and deny what she'd just heard, but everything Atropos had ever said and done (especially what she'd done) backed it up. Plus, something about Atropos' deadpan delivery was chillingly convincing, where shouting and ranting wouldn't have had nearly the same effect.

"Well, shit." Ashley nodded slowly, her expression contemplative. "That's about the best explanation for the state the world's in as I've ever heard. Vicks?"

"Goddamn it." Glory Girl glared at Atropos. "I came along because I thought this would be fun. Also because Mom told me to, but mainly because hanging out with people and giving them the benefit of my experience was going to be fun. And now you just rip the rug out from under my whole world like that? What the fuck?"

"Well, it all depends." Atropos didn't seem to be even slightly fazed by the teen hero's unhappiness. "Would you rather live in blissful ignorance, then one day your world just blows up, or would you prefer to know what's coming and maybe stop it?"

Ashley's chuckle was a little hollow. "Is this where we vote? Because when my time comes, Imma meet it on my own two feet, standing tall and giving it the finger."

Glory Girl scowled, mainly at the floor. "Yeah, fine, I'm in, but I don't have to like it."

Missy drew a deep breath. "Me, too. Either you're totally deluded or you're the best liar in the world, or it's true. And you've never lied or been wrong that I know of, so … yeah, I'm in. When you need me, I'll be there."

Ashley drew her in for a side-hug. Missy didn't fight it; she kind of needed a hug, right then, and Ashley probably needed one too. "You got stones, kid. That's good. We're gonna need that. But you know the worst part of all this?"

Glory Girl glanced over at them. "I'll bite. What?"

Ashley's chuckle was pure dark mischief. "Who the hell can we even tell about it?"

Glory Girl stared at her for a moment, then facepalmed. "Motherfucker."

<><>

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Dragon
From: Atropos
Subject: Moving a Suit

Hi to my best frenemy!
So, I was wondering if you could do me a huge solid and move a suit to Brockton Bay. Somewhere near the PRT building would be great.

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Atropos
From: Dragon
Subject: Re: Moving a Suit

If I ask why, will I get an answer I actually want to hear?

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Dragon
From: Atropos
Subject: Re: Re: Moving a Suit

Well, that depends. You didn't really want to hear about why I borrowed Teacher that one time, so I guess it's up to you.

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Atropos
From: Dragon
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Moving a Suit

I know I'm going to regret asking, but is this connected with that? If so, how?

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Dragon
From: Atropos
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Moving a Suit

In a word: yes. As for how … let's just say, I see a need in my (very) near future for the option to take a quiet restful joyride around the friendly skies of Brockton Bay.
For very specific interpretations of the words 'quiet', 'restful', 'joyride' and 'friendly', of course.

Mwahahaha.

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Atropos
From: Dragon
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Moving a Suit

I knew I'd regret asking.
Suit dispatched.

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Dragon
From: Atropos
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Moving a Suit

You're the best.

■

<><>​

Director's Office, PRT ENE

T minus 4 hr 40 min

Director Paul Renick

Emily would have hated this, Paul mused as he perused yet another form to be filled out. There was no gang violence; in fact, no violent crime at all to be had. Gallant and Browbeat were patrolling the Boardwalk, and all they'd done was stop for photo ops with tourists. Just looking out the window left him with the impression that the city was finally at peace with itself. She would've been bored out of her skull.

He played with the idea of collating the week's stats and sending it to her in a printable file with the caption 'You got out just in time', but he didn't want to chance sounding mean-spirited. He'd just let her know that everything was staying quiet in her absence during the weekly video conference. All he'd have to say was that he'd caught up on his paperwork, and she'd know just how peaceful it was now.

Just as he clicked the mouse to send the completed form away, his phone rang. Wondering if Atropos had a new request, he checked the caller ID, and frowned. Okay, what's Dragon calling me about?

Swiping to accept the call, he put it on speaker and hit the audio record button as normal. "Good afternoon, Dragon," he said politely. "How may I help you today?"

"Good afternoon, Director Renick. I'm just calling up to let you know that I'm moving a suit to Brockton Bay for the time being. Would it be possible to leave it on the roof of the PRT building?"

Her tone was strong and confident, and he nearly agreed to her request purely due to reflex before his higher brain functions kicked on. "Y—hold on, wait a moment. I'm not saying no, but on whose orders are you moving the suit here?"

To his surprise, she hesitated for almost a full second before answering. "No orders, Director. I'm moving it because I was asked by Atropos to move it. She wants me to have a suit in Brockton Bay. I asked why, and while she didn't answer me directly, I got the strong impression that your city will be hosting aerial combat sometime very soon."

Paul's eyes widened at that, and a chill crept up his spine. Jesus Christ. "When she took down the Nine, she told you what she was doing, correct?"

"She did." Dragon said no more than that. The implications, even unspoken as they were, scared the living bejeesus out of him.

Something big's about to happen, and she's not saying a word to us.

"Did she say anything else, anything at all, about what she's preparing for? Also, did you know that she's in Philadelphia at the moment?" Paul was reaching for any straw that would help him make sense of this situation. Emily, this is your turf, not mine.

When Dragon spoke next, she chose her words very carefully. "I did not. She alluded to something she did last week, and at that time she indicated she was preparing to deal with a problem that she called, and I quote, 'the monster at the end of the world'. No, I don't know what that means either."

The chill was firmly entrenched right up and down Paul's spine, to the point that he was almost surprised that his seat back hadn't frozen solid. "What … did she do last week?"

Again, there was that anomalous hesitation. "She borrowed Scapegoat from the San Diego department, took him and Damsel of Distress to London, then pulled Teacher out of the Birdcage. Teacher apparently upgraded Damsel's and Scapegoat's powers at Atropos' insistence, then he ended up back in the Birdcage. Teacher is now deceased, and Glaistig Uaine has taken his powers."

" … what?" Paul shook his head, trying to make some sense out of the world. "Why didn't you tell us about this? About any of this?"

This time, the response was much more prompt. "Atropos asked me not to. As I knew it would get out eventually, I chose to accede to her request in the moment. Scapegoat's powers are reportedly much more effective now, and I suspect Damsel's are as well. I spoke to Atropos regarding Teacher's deteriorated mental condition upon his return to the Birdcage; her reply made it obvious that she knew how this would turn out, and didn't care. Neither, I suspect, would she care one iota if she heard of his demise. That's if she doesn't already know."

"But why?" demanded Paul. "Why do any of this? What's she doing?"

"At the risk of sounding facetious, sir, she's preparing to deal with the monster at the end of the world, whatever that is. And she'll be doing it soon."

He sighed, fully aware that his very best efforts to keep the city safe would probably come up short. If Atropos wasn't telling them anything, there was a reason. The subtext was clear. Stay out of my way. "Understood. Keep me posted. If anything—anything at all—comes up, contact me soonest."

Dragon's tone was businesslike. "Will do, sir. About the suit?"

Even aware that she couldn't see him, he nodded. "Park it on the northeast corner of the roof. That should keep it clear of the helipad."

"Understood, sir. Thank you." The call ended.

Paul looked out the window. What had previously appeared to be the epitome of peace and quiet now had an invisible menace looming over it, one that Atropos was preparing to take on, possibly with Dragon's assistance. He had no idea what was going on, or when it was due to happen. All he could do was pray that Atropos continued to be as effective at protecting the city as she had been so far.

When this is over, Atropos, you and I are going to have a talk about communication.

He snorted humourlessly, reality reasserting itself.

If that's okay with you, of course.

<><>​

T minus 3 hr 12 min

Cherish

Whatever it was that had pissed Glory Girl off (Cherie could hazard a guess, but it was easier to wait until Taylor told her), she seemed to have gotten over it in relatively short order. Her emotional accompaniment had gone from harsh dissonant notes to relatively fluid music, and she'd started chatting with some of the people from the rehabilitation facility. Panacea was also in her element, happy to be talking about her struggles with self-doubt and worry about her own motivations.

To Cherie's considerable amusement, the ones with the most avid audiences were the ex-villains, including herself. To make matters even funnier, Riley was among that number, though none of the ex-capes were aware of this. Her stories of having been targeted by a malevolent Master so that he could use her powers for his benefit (Cherie suspected they were watered-down versions of her times with Jack Slash) had everyone on the edges of their seats.

Ashley was also quite popular, and she didn't even have to embellish her tales. Her theme in general was 'it's okay to ask for help, look what happened to me when I didn't', and she got it across very thoroughly, amid much amusement at the stories of her mishaps. Best of all, she was able to laugh at herself, instead of getting embarrassed or defensive.

It was while Cherie was describing her escape from her father that a new musical note intruded on the gathering; a minute or so later, there was a knock at the front door. "I got it!" Roderick called out, and came through from the kitchen into the front entryway.

A moment later, his music picked up in happiness; when he reappeared, a woman of Asian appearance was with him. Sveta got up immediately from where she'd been chatting with Atropos. "Mrs Yamada, hi!"

Huh, so this is who they've been talking about. Cherie had heard the name several times, but she hadn't had a face to go by until now.

"Hello, Sveta. And Atropos, I see you made it, with your friends." Mrs Yamada's demeanour tended toward the cool and reserved, but Cherie could tell she was pleased to see everyone enjoying themselves.

"Good to see you too, Mrs Yamada." Atropos gestured around at the gathering. "They've done well in just two weeks."

"Yes, I'm very proud of them. Thank you for doing this, by the way. All of you." Mrs Yamada beamed at each of the visiting capes. "It's very much appreciated."

"It's the least we could do." Ashley stood up and came over to meet her. "You took the time to put me in the picture about how therapy works. It helped, a lot."

Sveta nodded, clearly in agreement with the sentiment about therapy. "While you're here, would you like a cup of tea?"

"Thank you, dear. That would be lovely. Ashley, yes? Would you like one too?" Together, the three of them headed into the kitchen, talking comfortably together. Cherie turned her attention back to her audience.

"So, I'd just hopped the bus headed south …"

<><>​

PRT Department 1: New York

T minus 1 hr 3 min

Flechette

The final organ strains died away and the lights came up. Lily stepped forward from where she'd been standing in honour guard position for the funeral service; as they'd rehearsed, she leaned down and took hold of the front right-hand handle of the coffin. She didn't have the upper body strength to carry her share of it, but the capes to her six o'clock and nine o'clock had enough muscle mass to make up for it. All she had to do was go through the motions.

The photo of Boomer was still sitting propped up on the coffin as they lifted it; she timed her move to fit in with everyone else's, and took as much of the weight as she could. Slowly, moving in lock-step as the organ started playing the funeral march, they walked it down off the dais and along the aisle between the rows of seating. Nobody was seated for this: all the capes were bare-headed (wearing domino masks where needed), and all the PRT troopers were standing at rigid attention, holding a salute as the coffin was carried past them.

Only Lily's sense of timing allowed her to keep moving in perfect unison with everyone else, because her eyes were full of tears after she incautiously glanced over to the side and saw Boomer's daughter crying into her mother's shoulder. She managed to blink them clear as they took the corner once they'd gotten out the door, but now she had the sniffles. Grimly, she decided that she'd just have to live with it.

The cold-storage room was just down the way, and Boomer's remains would be kept there until they could be discreetly moved out of the building and interred under his real name. Whatever service was held elsewhere would also have to be closed-casket, but that would be out of the hands of the PRT. Lily wasn't thinking that far ahead; she was just determined to make sure that he be moved with the dignity and respect that he deserved.

Once the coffin was situated and Lily emerged from the cold room, she allowed herself to relax and blow her nose. When she looked up, Director Piggot was standing in front of her. The older woman's face had a few more lines on it than before, but nobody was counting. Directorship of a PRT department was said to be even more strenuous than air traffic control.

"Ma'am?" asked Lily. "Is there another situation?"

"Not that we know of." The Director made a gesture that meant give us the room; all of a sudden, the corridor was clear for yards in both directions. "However, when it comes to Atropos, that doesn't necessarily mean there is no situation. Do you remember the last time she communicated with you?"

Lily frowned. "Day before yesterday. She dropped by to talk to me about Boomer, and to tell me where we could find Rune. What's happened? Please tell me she hasn't been kidnapped again." How many more of these idiots is she going to have to kill before they get the message?

Piggot shook her head, with an expression that mirrored Lily's thoughts. "Thankfully, no. She's in Philadelphia right now. However, she's asked Dragon to transfer a suit to Brockton Bay. We believe she's in preparation to deal with a problem that she calls 'the monster at the end of the world'. Do you have any idea what that might be?"

"Uh, no." Lily paused, searching her mind. "I don't recall her ever using that phrase in my hearing, anyway. Sorry."

"I'm going to assume that if she wanted us to know, she would've told you." The Director gestured off down the corridor. "I've held the transport for you. If you do happen to see her while you're in Brockton Bay, and if it hasn't already become blatantly obvious, I'd appreciate it if you could ask her about it. We Directors like to hold on to our illusions that we're running the show around here."

"I can do that." Lily gave the Director a half-smile. "I can't promise you any results, but we both knew that."

"We can but try." Piggot made a shooing motion. "You're off-duty as of right now. Go."

"Yes, ma'am." Lily headed off down the corridor at a fast trot. Her duffel, stashed in a side-room, was already packed with the clothing she'd need over the next couple of days, and it would take a bit over an hour to reach Brockton Bay.

It wasn't until she was already in the chopper, lifting off the pad, that she realised she hadn't asked Director Piggot about transferring to Brockton Bay.

God damn it. Okay, next time.

<><>​

Parliament House, Canberra, Australia

T minus 1 min 30 sec

Pocket Rocket

The statue was absolutely bloody spot-on. Atropos had been rendered in bronze, the sawn-off shottie (with the phrase 'The Power of Friendship' faithfully engraved on each side) angling down toward the marble effigy of the Bin Chicken of Doom. Every time Josh saw it, he got shivers down his back from how real it looked. Of course, there were always tourists who wanted to get some happy-snaps of him posing next to it, and hear him tell it how it happened. Because he'd Been There.

"So there I was, she's screaming her head off like a curlew with a stick up its arse, and the next minute, Atropos, right there, yells Duck season. Wabbit season, says the kid. And they go back and forward like Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck, then Atropos yells, Wabbit season, and the kid goes, Duck season, fire!" He paused for effect. The tourists, a bunch of Yanks, were hanging on his every word.

"And then what happened?" asked one of the tourists, as if everyone in the world with an Internet connection hadn't already seen it a million times.

"Well, she pointed her shottie up into the clouds and pulled the trigger, didn't she? Brought the Bin Chicken down right there. Bounced, took out those flagpoles, and landed right in the middle of the outline she'd already drawn." He pointed at the marble statue. "Arsiest shot I ever saw … hoooooly shiiiiit."

He blinked, then stared as Scion—the golden man himself—appeared overhead, then drifted down next to the statue. The sound of camera shutters clicking went into overdrive, to the point that it sounded like someone was trying to start a lawnmower back there. He wanted to get out his own phone to get a picture, but then he decided he'd just get a copy off one of the tourists.

"Hey, big guy." He'd heard Scion didn't talk to people, but there was always a first time. Scion turned to look at him, then back at the statue. The question was obvious. "Yeah, that's the Simurgh. Atropos killed her, about three weeks ago. They reckon she got the other two Endbringers as well. Nobody's seen 'em since, anyway."

The silent stare was almost creepy in its intensity. He could tell that Scion wanted to ask another question, and he could make a pretty good guess as to what it was.

"Yeah, it was Atropos," he went on, hoping he was on the right track. "They reckon she's totally turning around her corner of America. She's killed so many supervillains, the rest are running scared. You know, on her PHO signature, she's literally got 'can actually kill anything' on it? And you know what? After the Bin Chicken here, I reckon she might not be far wrong."

The crack as air rushed into the spot where Scion had been hovering, like a static sonic boom, would've knocked him on his arse and blown out his eardrums, but fortunately his super-speed kicked in and let him drag the tourists far enough away that they wouldn't be permanently deafened. Once he came to a halt, he stared back at where Scion had been.

"What the hell was that about?" asked one of the tourists dazedly.

"Buggered if I know, mate." But Josh had a bad feeling about this. Pulling out his phone, he tapped out a message.

<><>

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Atropos
From: Pocket Rocket
Subject: Just so you know

Hey, I was at the Simurgh statue in Canberra, and Scion dropped in and had a squiz at it. I explained what it was about, and who you were, and then he teleported away like he had someplace to be. You might want to keep an eye on your six, okay?

■

<><>​

By the time he hit Send, it was already too late.



End of Part One Hundred Two

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part One Hundred Three: Boss Fight!

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



PATOR

Just Before It All Went Sideways

Atropos

I sat opposite Mrs Yamada in a comfortable armchair. She had a cup of tea, while I was going without for the moment. While I could've probably gotten away with pulling my mask up to eat or drink something, I didn't want to put too many dents in my mystique if I could help it.

"So, there's something I've been wanting to ask you, if you don't mind." Her teacup was almost empty; she finished it and put it aside.

"Go ahead and ask." I spread my hands to demonstrate my openness, ignoring the fact that I was literally wearing a full-face mask. "If I refuse to answer, I'll at least tell you why."

"I suppose that's fair." Clasping her hands together, she leaned forward slightly. "Your power is focused on killing people, while your aim all along has been to make Brockton Bay a safer, more prosperous city. What happens when you achieve your aims, and there's nobody else you need to kill to make it work? Are you concerned that it might turn on you? I've seen problematic scenarios before, with other people who are trying not to use their powers."

"My power's not just about Ending people." Not wanting to sound argumentative or self-serving, I moderated my tone carefully. "I can End concepts, things, and even legacies. As Brockton Bay's influence in the region spreads, there will inevitably be those who have a vested interest in maintaining their version of the status quo, even when it's something that needs to End. When that happens, I'll be there."

Or, as I privately called it, the Law of Infinite Assholes.

"Yes, but what about—"

I was no longer listening, because between one instant and the next, the niggling sense of danger I'd been feeling all day had exploded into a full-scale DefCon One. My threatscape lit up like a Christmas tree plugged into a nuclear reactor; eyes wide and staring behind my mask, I sat up hard, my heart hammering in my chest.

It's Scion. He's learned my name, and he's coming after me.

In that instant, I knew exactly where he was and what he intended to do. In order: in the upper atmosphere but descending rapidly; and destroy me utterly, with no holding back.

It was a good thing I'd been moving my pieces into place, because right now I had exactly zero wiggle room.

00:08

"Vista, Vicky, Ash!" I yelled, launching myself up out of the armchair. Not caring who saw it, I shoved my sleeve back, popped the cover on the teleport module, and started typing in coordinates as fast as I could with my right hand. "It's go time!" At the same time, with my left hand, I delved into my pocket for my phone.

00:07

Vicky popped her head out of the kitchen, then she came swooping toward me, dodging around Roderick as she came. Missy was also on the ball; she grabbed Ashley by the wrist, compressed space between us, and moved them both across the room in one step.

I continued typing in the coordinates, and woke up my phone at the same time. Tapping out a message for Dragon, I sent it, then started another one for Flechette.

00:06

"Atropos, what's going on?" Mrs Yamada began to get up out of her chair. Opting to ignore the question—I could take the time to explain or I could live, and I chose to live—I finished entering the coordinates and opened the portal. Even as I completed the text to Flechette and sent it, I dived through the portal onto the roof of the Brockton Bay PRT building.

Vicky was next through, followed by Ashley and Missy. I stabbed the button to manually close the portal before anyone else wandered through, then slapped the cover shut, dropped my phone into my pocket, and turned toward the northeast corner of the building roof.

Okay, that bought us about three seconds. Let's use them wisely.

<><>​

Panacea

Amy stared as the portal winked out. "What the heck?" she managed. "Where'd they go? What's going on?"

Now on her feet, Jessica Yamada looked decidedly unsettled. "Does this—" she began, then cut herself off as an actinic golden glare blazed in through the window, only to flick out an instant later like a light switch had been flipped. "Ah, does this happen often?"

Rubbing at her eyes, Amy tried to blink the spots away; the light had been that bright. "Sometimes, but she usually explains what's going on first, and I'm generally the one who gets to go on the trip. And the light was new, too. I have no idea what's going on with that."

"I see." Jessica looked around at the assembled group. "Is everyone alright?"

"Everyone appears to be okay." That was Miss Medic, looking far more serious than Amy had ever seen her; in this incarnation, anyway. "But I think we should stay away from the windows for the moment, just in case."

Tenebrae nodded. "I agree. Do you have an interior room we could shelter in for the moment? Also, it's probably a good idea to call in the PRT and Protectorate, at least until we know it's all clear out there." The protective hand on Miss Medic's shoulder showed exactly where his priorities lay.

"It's all clear." Cherish spoke confidently. "There's nobody within ten miles who wants to do us harm. Most people are wondering what that lightshow was all about. And in case you're wondering, I picked up a very brief reading of someone who was truly pissed off, but they're gone too."

Mrs Yamada nodded as she absorbed the information. "Thank you, Cherish. That's good to know." She looked around at the four capes. "So … what should we do now?"

Miss Medic shrugged expressively. "Tenebrae was right. We need to call in the PRT, to let them know what we saw. But also to get a lift back to Brockton Bay."

"On it." Tenebrae had his phone out as he spoke.

Amy leaned in toward Cherish, lowering her voice. "Do you have any idea of what's going on? Why she tore out of here like that?"

Cherish grimaced, then glanced around before speaking just as quietly. "I'm pretty sure I do, but I don't want to talk about it where anyone else can hear us. All I can tell you at the moment is that she's been on edge all day because of it, then just now she went from irritated to 'oh, shit' in half a heartbeat. I'm pretty sure I know who's coming after her, and if she'd taken two seconds longer, none of us would be alive to talk about it."

Though unable to counter her logic, Amy still wanted answers. "Okay, so let's find someplace private."

Atropos, wherever you went to, bring Vicky home safe. Please.

<><>

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Dragon
From: Atropos
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Moving a Suit

Need that suit warmed up NOW NOW NOW

■

<><>​

In the Air, 30 Miles Southwest of Brockton Bay

Flechette

Lily had her phone out to check the time when the text message popped up. The sender's name was enough to make her open the message immediately, but the body of the text made her frown and read it through twice more.

Prepare to jump. 1 min 12 sec.

That was all it said; no reason given, no mention of what was going on. Just a straight-up order from Atropos to her. There wasn't even the cheerful banter or teasing tone that Atropos usually employed. Which told her something very important: either something was seriously wrong, or it wasn't Atropos sending that message.

A moment later, common sense kicked in. Nobody was stupid enough to impersonate Atropos, because Atropos would be waiting for them when they tried. So this meant that something had seriously gone wrong.

She had a perfect sense of timing thanks to her powers, so in her mind she began a countdown, subtracting the few seconds she'd taken to work out the problem. At one minute and twelve seconds, she would be bailing out of the chopper, come hell or high water.

Whatever was going on, she trusted Atropos with her life. It was that simple.

<><>​

Atropos

00:05

"Dragon suit!" I was already running in that direction when Vicky scooped me up from behind, hands under my arms. Half a second later, Vista and Ashley arrived in front of the suit in one physics-mangling stride. As we approached it, I saw lights powering on as Dragon ran it through its self-checks at high speed. The side hatch began to open.

00:04

There was room inside for just one person (or two of us if we were okay with being very friendly), but I'd thought of that already. "Vista, make it a five-seater! Dragon, prep for takeoff!"

Missy stared at me. "But there's only four—"

"Five!" I shouted over the rising whine of the jets, scanning the skies. He was up there, on the way down, right now. This was going to be very close indeed.

00:02

As we watched, the seat expanded while the cockpit didn't actually change size. I didn't bother trying to figure out how it worked; I just shoved Missy ahead of me (ignoring her protests) while I climbed in, dragging Ashley with me. Vicky got the hint and levitated in, even as the suit began lifting off and the hatch closed behind her. "Altitude!" I yelled to Dragon. "Vicky, force field!"

"But I can't—" extend my force field, she began to say.

I didn't have time to hear it. We didn't have time to hear it. "Yes, you can!" I leaned hard into my power, to remind her power of the deal we'd made.

00:00

We'd cut it too close. Already, Scion was swooping down at us, a vast golden glow building around his hands. Dragon kicked in the afterburners, powering up past him so he had to stop short and turn to target us.

Grabbing the controls—yes, Dragon could fly her own suit just fine, but nobody could second-guess Scion like I could—I threw us into a crazy spiral just as he fired. Assisted by Missy expanding space, we almost evaded the blast, but red lights sprang up here and there on the control panel as Dragon lost a wingtip. On the upside, we were still flying. Not for long, if this kept up. "FORCE! FIELD!"

<><>​

The Shard Bar

Glory Girl

With Atropos' shout still ringing in her ears, Vicky abruptly found herself … elsewhere. She could almost have believed she was asleep and dreaming, considering how detached from reality her surroundings had become. But instead of an oversized rabbit-hole with a thematically-matching fluffy bunny carrying an oversized pocket watch, she was in what looked like a bar-room of uncertain dimensions, populated by beings that were essentially humanoid, though none of them were actually human.

Her point of view was inconstant, hovering above and around the head and shoulders of a hollow glass statue of a woman in a ballroom gown. But that wasn't the worst part.

As the glass statue—who demonstrated an amazing amount of agility, despite having to crack and fracture at every movement—ducked and dodged across the bar-room, she was being berated by a tall skeletal being in a robe, carrying a scythe. Accompanying them were a humanoid being composed of constantly refolding space, a clockwork robot hissing steam from a punctured cylinder, and a being of exploding and reforming energy, who was carrying a shotgun.

The reason they were carrying out evasive action was the bartender, a man with a peculiarly golden tinge to his skin. An expression of rage on his face, he was firing a machine-gun at them, the bullets whipping past them and throwing up clouds of splinters from the floor. And then they were backed into a corner, despite the best efforts of the folding-space person.

WHAT PART OF 'BE MORE FLEXIBLE' DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND? demanded the skeleton with the scythe. His voice carried the overtones of inevitability with it; when he made a pronouncement, it was closer to a prediction of what was to happen. Within the eyesockets of the skull, twin blue flares had ignited into supernovas.

"But … but … she doesn't believe she can do it!" protested the glass statue, her words emerging full-formed from her mouth despite the utter lack of larynx or even lungs within.

CONVINCE. HER.

With a rippling crackle of fracturing glass, the statue turned to look up at where Vicky's point of view was, just as the homicidal bartender slapped another belt of ammunition into the machine-gun. Vicky looked into the statue's eyes; glass lips whispered a single word. "Please …"

Vicky found herself convinced.

With that, the glass woman began to pirouette, faster and faster. Her skirts expanded outward as she spun, parting to allow each of her companions within. When the machine-gun fired again, the glass shattered, but the people were protected.

For now.

<><>​

Atropos

Gritting my teeth, I tried another evasive roll, but this time he was calculating which way the craft could go, and was spreading his beam to hit us no matter where we went. The golden glow bloomed, and we were caught in it—

—but we were simply swatted across the sky as Vicky's force field flickered and died on our outer hull. The jets howled, and the airframe creaked and groaned while Dragon fought to bring the suit back to an even keel. At the same time, Missy gritted her teeth, bending and twisting space to take us out of Scion's line of fire.

"Motherfucker!" shouted Ashley, opening the hatch and leaning out. Hanging on with one hand, she pointed the other at Scion and fired off a screeching blast of pure devastation. "Fuck off and die!" He dodged it, of course, but that also disrupted his own attack run.

Well, maybe she hadn't gotten over all her anger issues.

"What the hell was that?" demanded Vicky. "Where did I just go? Yeah, yeah, I got it. 'Force field'." She grabbed a hand-hold and concentrated.

"I think I was there too," Dragon said hesitantly. "Wherever 'there' was."

"Later." I was being a lot terser than usual, but I was trying very hard not to die to an overgrown spacegoing slug. "Chopper incoming. We need the person who's on it."

With the assistance of Ashley's counterfire and Missy's space-twisting, I was able to evade the next two shots, but he wised up and pulled a homing blast that should have torn us in half. Again, Vicky's force field saved us, but he was learning, and my ability to bypass his combat prediction wouldn't help if he could hit us everywhere while we were unprotected. We were running out of time; we needed to go on the offensive, and for that we needed Lily.

<><>​

Flechette

"Hey, you see that?" The pilot's voice came over the headset Lily was wearing. "Looks like a cape battle, dead ahead."

The copilot's voice suggested that he was frowning. "I thought Atropos didn't allow that sort of thing inside Brockton Bay's airspace."

"She doesn't." The pilot sounded very sure of himself. "Whoever those two assholes are, she's gonna fuck their whole lives up when she catches up with them. In the meantime, I'm calling a divert."

Hastily, Lily hit the microphone button on her headset. "No, keep going! I have to get closer!"

"Ah, that's a negative, miss. We're not armed, and you're not a flyer. We get too close to that, we'll just end up as collateral damage." As the pilot spoke, the helicopter began to bank away from its original course.

"No, you don't understand! Atropos texted me! She wants me to get closer!" In Lily's head, the countdown was inexorably approaching zero.

There was silence over the intercom for a second, then the pilot spoke. "Shit. What do you think?"

The copilot didn't sound any happier. "She was in Canberra for the Simurgh."

Lily decided to weigh in again. "Twenty seconds. That's all I need." The numbers were ticking down in her head.

"Okay, twenty seconds, then we're outta here." The pilot sounded like he was kicking himself for agreeing to even that much, but the chopper banked back on course again.

"I really, really hope you know what you're doing, kid." That was the copilot, his voice tense but controlled.

So do I. Lily put one hand on her quick-release catch, and the other on the latch for the sliding side door of the chopper. Twelve. Eleven. Ten.

At 'six', there was a BOOM and a massive flare of electrical discharge that had both the pilot and copilot swearing over comms; what looked like a Dragon suit came tumbling through the air, shedding long streamers of electricity. Even as far away as it was, Lily saw the side hatch beginning to open.

Okay, this is it.

"We gotta go!" shouted the pilot. "Whatever you were gonna do, kid, do it now!"

Lily did it; pulling the latch open, she wrenched the sliding door open against the slipstream. At the same time, she hit the release catch, freeing her from the five-point restraints. "Get out of here!" she shouted into the intercom before tearing off the headset.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed the doorframe and hauled herself into the shrieking wind-rush. As the countdown in her head reached zero, she launched herself out into space.

<><>​

Atropos

Whatever Scion had just hit us with, it was massive. Fortunately, we weren't over the city anymore; down below, about a square mile of trees had been simply incinerated by what looked and felt like God deciding he just didn't want them anymore, plus all their friends. Even with Vicky's force field protecting us, it rang our bell but good. We hadn't suffered any actual damage, but more red lights were popping up on the control panel as Dragon fought to restart the starboard turbine.

On the upside, I'd managed to bait him into hitting us precisely hard enough to put us where we needed to be. Way off to the side, a PRT chopper was just turning away from the battle as the side door opened and someone threw themselves out. Not just any someone: that was Lily, right on time.

Using the one working turbine, I adjusted our flight path so that for one fleeting second, our directional vector coincided with that of the girl who'd just thrown herself out of a helicopter a mile above ground. "Vista, Vicky, get her!" I shouted.

Ashley didn't need to be told to provide covering fire. She hadn't hit with a single shot yet, which had to be frustrating, but she was doing a fantastic job of keeping him honest. Without her peppering the sky with shots capable of eliminating his humanoid body like a soap bubble in a blast furnace, he would've closed to can't-miss range by now, where he could kill us at his leisure.

Missy concentrated, shrinking the gap between us and Lily to mere feet, bringing the chopper to within yards, its straining gas turbines screaming in my ears. Vicky leaned out through the already-open hatch, and snagged Lily just before she would've passed us by. "Gotcha!"

Just as quickly, Missy dropped the space-crunch, then added about a mile of distance between us and Scion. Vicky hauled Lily into the cockpit, then plopped her into the seat between me and everyone else. "Hi," I said. "Glad you could drop in."

"Ah. Right." Lily looked at me, then at everyone else. "Good to be here. Simurgh job?"

I could tell Scion was building up to fire another massive shot, and Vicky's force field wasn't going to be quite ready. It was now or never; pulling my shears, I held them up in front of Lily. "Simurgh job. Vista, get me to knife-fighting range."

Dragon got the starboard turbine up and running just as I slewed the suit side-on to Scion and popped the hatch on my side. Lily ran her finger down the blades as she'd done once before, charging them with her power. As soon as that was done, I leaped outward with the shears leading the way.

Missy did her job magnificently. One instant, Scion was an incandescent dot in the distance; the next, he was literally in my face. The look on his face, mostly anger, added another element: vicious satisfaction. He'd literally been chasing me all over the sky, and now I was right there, within his reach.

His hand shot out to catch me around the throat, while the glow in the other continued to build ominously. I could feel the heat emanating off it, like staring into an open kiln. He was taking no chances with me dodging, this time.

But that was fine. If I couldn't dodge, neither could he.

"Hey, asshole," I husked. "Existence is a privilege." Then, using both hands, I drove my shears in through the white bodysuit, up under the breastbone and through the heart he didn't have, all the way to the hilt.

In my line of work, there was a certain satisfaction to be had in the expressions of those people who realised far too late just how badly they'd fucked up. For all the times I'd seen it, it never really got old. Just before Scion's avatar popped like a cheap balloon, his face took on the same expression as all the others.

Released from his hold, I began to fall, but Vicky grabbed me by the collar of my long-coat (Missy must have done some fancy space-bending) and hauled me back inside. We hovered there for a moment, looking at the Scion-shaped hole in the air that he'd left behind. "Okay," I said after I caught my breath. "Well done, everyone, but we're not finished yet."

"Is he dead?" Vicky stared at me, and at the weapon I still held in my hands. "I can't believe you just killed Scion with your shears!"

"Wait, why were we even fighting Scion again?" Lily both looked and sounded lost. I didn't blame her; it was a lot to be taking in all at once.

"I had that very same question myself." Dragon's 'face' appeared on one of the screens. "Was he the 'monster at the end of the world' you were talking about?"

I cleared my throat, which had the effect of shutting everyone up. "He's not dead yet, but yes, he's actually the big bad guy. Get us closer. Vista, open that hole a bit. Ash, if you can trim off the edges, that would be good. We need it big enough to fit a Dragon suit through."

Vicky raised a finger as though asking a question in class. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but from the way you're talking, we're going in through that hole. What's on the other side?"

I grinned. "The rest of him."



End of Part One Hundred Three

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part One Hundred Four: Finishing the Job

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



Some Other Earth

Cauldron Base

Legend

"Hahaha fucking what?"

Keith looked around as Kurt's disbelieving bark of laughter cut across the gentle burble of the coffee machine. Leaning back against the wall, the Number Man was staring at the screen of a tablet with an expression best described as gleeful incredulity. As Keith watched, he flicked his finger across the tablet to restart whatever footage he was watching from the beginning.

Don't ask. Don't ask. Don't ask.

"What are you watching?"

God damn it.

"Well, you know how Atropos has that little thing in her PHO signature about how she can basically kill anything?" Kurt wasn't even trying to hold in the smile that insisted on breaking free.

Keith nodded cautiously. "Yes, well, she's demonstrated considerable aptitude in that direction. Why? Who's she killed now?" He'd been almost certain that even blind things that hid under rocks were aware by now of the need to not upset Atropos.

"Let me finish." The bubbling mirth seemed to be closer to the surface now. "So, about four and a half hours ago, I found out that she'd specifically asked Dragon to send a suit to the Brockton Bay PRT building. I got curious, so I put a tap on everything that suit sees and hears."

"Risky," noted Keith. "She's already banned Cauldron from going there. I can slide by, as a member of the Protectorate, but you might've gotten her attention with that." The idea of Atropos striding into the base and confronting Kurt made his stomach clench, not least because he wanted a chance to clean up some of their dirty laundry before she started paying proper attention to them.

"Oh, there was no way I was ever going to use what I learned." Kurt sounded thoroughly earnest. "I just wanted to know what the hell she needed a Dragon suit for. Two minutes ago, I found out. You know how Scion's been teleporting all over the world?"

Oh, shit. Keith froze at the mere mention of the name. Normally, he would've been less concerned, but in conjunction with Atropos, that promised to be a clash that could destroy worlds. "Yes …?"

"Two minutes ago, he showed up at the Simurgh statue in Australia. One and a half minutes ago, satellite imagery has him teleporting to a point over Philadelphia, and started what looked amazingly like an attack run there. Two seconds later, he broke off the run and jumped to Brockton Bay, where he started all over again. At the same time, Atropos teleported to the top of the Brockton Bay PRT building—I'm assuming from Philly—and commandeered the Dragon suit, along with three other capes. Specifically: Glory Girl, Vista and Damsel of Distress."

"I'm assuming Vista manipulated the interior, or they never would have fitted inside," Keith observed, just to show that he was following along.

"Well, since they all got in, that's probably what happened, yeah." Kurt nodded to acknowledge the point. "Then they engaged in a running dogfight with him, somehow tanking his shots altogether but not actually landing any shots in return, for about a minute."

"Tanking his shots? Are you sure?" Keith was startled by this news. "Is Dragon trialling a new force field or something?" He for sure knew of no extant Tinkertech that could stand up to Scion indefinitely. Of the capes already mentioned, Glory Girl had a force field that could reputedly stop anything once, but that was a personal effect only.

Kurt shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. At the end of the minute, they came close to a PRT transport coming in from New York, carrying Flechette. They must've been in communication with the chopper, because she jumped out just before the chopper sheered off. Vista and Glory Girl retrieved her, then they went on the offensive. Or rather, Atropos did."

Dots were starting to connect in Keith's head, starting with the mention of Flechette. The last time that pair had teamed up in a combat situation, Atropos had killed the Simurgh in a thoroughly outrageous way, cementing her reputation forever (and allowing quite a bit of reflected glory to cover Flechette as well). "They didn't intercept that chopper by accident. Atropos wanted her on board."

"I think you're right." The mirth bubbled up in Kurt's voice again and he turned the tablet to face Keith. "Check it out."

The footage was undoubtedly from Dragon's external cameras. Keith watched as Scion went from a dot in the distance to right there in an instant; he recognised the effect as Vista's work, though her power seemed to be working faster and more smoothly than he'd ever seen it before. Filing that data point away, he kept watching the action.

And action there was. Atropos leaped out of the Dragon suit, lunging with her shears at Scion. He grabbed her around the throat, preparing to obliterate her with some sort of energy blast from his other hand … but then she stabbed him with those shears, straight up under the ribcage, in a direct line with his heart. He had just enough time to show an expression of horrified shock before he … popped? Evaporated? Vanished?

He sat forward. "There's got to be something I've missed. Let me see that again."

Kurt rewound it the few seconds required, then started it up again. It happened exactly the same way, except this time Keith spotted Atropos saying something that he couldn't make out, due to her morph mask. A third and fourth showing did nothing but raise more questions. Mainly: how in hell did she pull that off?

"Footage ends shortly after that," Kurt said, answering his unasked question. "They were apparently prepping to go into the hole he left behind. Dunno what happened after that. But holy shit, that's the most savage thing I ever saw, and I used to run with Jack Slash."

"Get that footage to Alexandria and Contessa, soonest." Keith got up and took his cup to the sink. "They might be able to get more out of it than you or me. I'm going to Brockton Bay, to see if I can figure out what's happening on the ground."

Kurt nodded, even as he started watching it through again. "You got it."

<><>​

A Short Time Before

Atropos

We hovered in front of the hole in space; while Missy strained to expand the space within the portal, and Ashley fired off blasts that literally destroyed chunks of space-time, Dragon performed last-minute repairs on her suit.

Vicky took this opportunity to turn to me. "Okay, now it's later." She looked over at me with an expression that said she wouldn't stop until she got answers. "What was that place we went to?"

"I'm kind of curious about that too," Missy said over her shoulder. "Those people in that place, they were kind of abstract representations of us …?"

As Vicky nodded in agreement, I turned my head so Vicky and Flechette could tell I was looking at them. "Not of you. Of your powers. Powers are granted by things called 'shards', but those are gigantic interdimensional semi-crystalline computers. The place you went to is basically a shared illusion, drawing on human concepts, to reflect what's happening on the shard level. Most people don't get to experience it. Ending kind of breaks the rules like that, in so many ways."

"And that hooded skeleton, that was Ending, right? That was your power?" I could tell that Ashley knew the answer, but she felt driven to ask the question anyway.

I couldn't resist. Leaning into my power, I infused my reply with the essence of Ending. "Yes."

Vicky shuddered theatrically. "For fuck's sake, don't say it like that. You just gave me chills all the way down to my toes."

I grinned and gave her a slight bow. "Ending says thank you, he'll be here all week." Shifting emotional gears, I turned to look at the face on the screen. "Dragon, how are you going with those repairs?"

"Nearly complete. Do you really intend to enter that space without waiting for reinforcements?" Her self-repair mechanisms had to be working nineteen to the dozen, but her voice showed nothing but an appropriately human concern.

"By the time they got here, he'd have another avatar ready to roll, and he'd be that much more prepped to go against me." I eyeballed the hole in space. "That'll have to do. We'll have about ten seconds before he realises we've breached his pocket dimension and all hell breaks loose. Ashley, I've got targets I want you to hammer before we have to go defensive. After that, you need to shoot back at anything that shoots at us. Got it?"

Ashley nodded tightly, her fingers twitching. "I just realised. This is why you took me on the Teacher job, right?"

"I heard about that!" Lily had been sitting back and trying to follow the conversation, but now she had her opening. "Scapegoat, right?"

"'s right," agreed Ashley. "Teacher fixed my power but put shit in my head to make me do what he wanted. Scapegoat pulled the shit right out again and gave it back to him." She turned to me. "What happened to him once he got back to the Birdcage, anyway?"

I shrugged. "Mouthed off to the wrong people, got beaten up, tried to force his powers on some others, got beaten up some more, monologued his villain plans to all and sundry, got beaten up again, then tried to stage a coup to take over the whole Birdcage, and got thoroughly ganked. Glaistig Uaine harvested his powers, and everything went back to business as normal."

"You could at least act like you're remorseful over sending him to his death." Dragon could sound really reproachful when she wanted to.

"You'd know I was lying, and I don't lie to people I respect." I took a deep breath, and laid my hands lightly on the controls. "He was a net negative to society, and if I'd ever met him out and about, I would've shot him right in the face. Ready to go?"

Vicky nodded tensely. I knew she was already extending her force field to cover the Dragon craft. "Ready."

Missy flexed her fingers, and I saw space wobble slightly around us. "Ready."

Ashley ran her thumbs over each fingertip in turn, like a stage magician warming up his hands for the big finale. "Let's kick this guy's ugly ass."

Lily didn't have anything to do right then, so she just took a deep breath. "Good to go."

The last red light on the control panel flicked back to green. "Repairs complete. Let's get this done."

I hit the throttle and the suit surged forward into the hole in space. The lighting in there was weird, and it didn't necessarily match the physics of light outside the hole, but that was what made life interesting, right? We passed on through with at least three inches of clearance; I ignored the slight clenching from Vicky and Lily. There was plenty of room, the wusses.

Dragon was running the suit's sensory package, and as soon as we were clear of the portal, she threw a map of the space beyond up onto the screen HUD. It was huge, a massive crystalline landscape stacked up every which way, with energy discharges jumping from crystal to crystal in a seemingly random fashion. The map started off very basic, but it gained detail by the second.

"Ash!" I snapped. "Target one! That big spiky outcrop there, down to the right!"

"On it!" As the hatch motored open, she leaned out and aimed her entire arm. In the meantime, I opened out the jets, because by the time Scion realised we were inside his brain, we needed to be hard to hit.

<><>​

Ash

Up until they'd left the get-together, Ashley had been enjoying herself immensely. Afterward, not so much. To be asked by Atropos to come along and kick ass was actually pretty cool, but every time she'd fired off a blast against Scion (holy shit, she was fighting Scion!) he'd dodged away and made her look useless. The only thing that held her back from expressing how much of a dead weight she felt to the group was that Atropos wasn't saying shit to her about missing. And Atropos always said something if she thought it needed saying.

But right now, they were in the middle of what had to be the absolute definition of a target-rich environment. There was no way he could fucking dodge this. Stretching out her arm, Ashley grinned tightly and prepared to do something she hadn't had a chance to do since her power upgrade: fire off a full-bore blast against an actual target.

The energy surged down her arm and erupted from her hand in a perfectly controlled stream of snapping, crackling destructive force. Crossing the intervening distance in just a few seconds, it smashed home and absolutely fucking wrecked the outcrop, with all its ugly spikes and other stuff. Opening her fingers slightly, she widened the beam into a cone that obliterated the outcrop altogether.

Ooh fucking yeah. This is what it's all about. No way could she have managed a blast that coherent before.

"Target two!" That was Atropos. "Ten o'clock high! That pulsing red crystal!"

Ashley looked up and saw the crystal. Hello, fucker. Bye-bye, fucker. Again, the energy blasted down her arm; pure, clean, smooth, it lanced outward, hitting the red crystal dead on. But this time, she was surprised by an explosion that spawned smaller detonations under the surface of the crystalline structure. "Hah! Yes! Score!"

The suit lurched, then rolled and dived as space shifted oddly around it. Ash grabbed for a second hand-hold, just as an actinic beam edged with blue lashed past them. She tracked the blast backward and her eyes narrowed. Shoot at me, will you? Fuck you. Levelling her arm, she sent off a blast that struck the outcrop firing the blast and turned it into so much flying shrapnel.

"Force field!"

Ashley knew what that meant; ducking back inside, she yanked the hatch shut. An instant later, the suit boomed and lurched sideways as three different beams struck it at once. The field would be down, which meant Ashley was up next.

Pushing the hatch open again, she leaned out and nailed two of the three beam emitters, sending more explosions blasting through the substrate of the crystalline structures. Atropos smoothly rolled the suit around the third one, then they went around an outcrop and out of its line of fire. That didn't matter; there were more to greet them.

Ashley nailed two more, not bothering to cease blasting between targets. Dragging her highest-intensity blast—it was amazing to have a target she could just let loose on, unworried about anything behind it—across the alien landscape, she set off more explosions. Hundreds of tons of crystalline shrapnel and rubble blasted every which way as she breached what she suspected were energy conduits.

"Fuck, yeah!" she screamed. "How does it feel now, asshole? How does it feel?"

"Up ahead, target three!" Atropos' tone got her attention. "He's forming a new avatar!"

Swinging her gaze forward, Ashley saw the golden form hovering above a flesh garden of some sort. She had to squint to see anything, right up until Vista made a squeezing motion with her hands and all of a sudden, everything was a lot closer. The golden form was almost complete; even as she watched, it turned to look toward them.

And that was when everything in the area opened up on them at once. Outcrops all around erupted with energy blasts of every description, and a few that Ashley was pretty sure she couldn't describe.

She tried to hit the area with the new avatar, but there was so much shit in the air, she literally couldn't see it, and that didn't even factor in how much Atropos was rolling, diving and spinning the suit. Something took another chunk out of the wing, while something else scorched the entire left-hand side of the front viewport to blackness. Ashley figured about the only thing that was preventing Scion from getting a proper bead on them was the fact that he couldn't see them, either.

"I can't see shit!" she screamed.

"Just shoot!" Atropos was flying the Dragon suit like someone with a fresh hit of meth under their belt. From the sensations in Ashley's inner ear, it was going every which way, and not always forwards either.

Fuck it. Ashley stuck her hand out through the open hatch, and just fired blindly, full power. She didn't have to see to hit something, and every time the suit pulled a barrel roll, she was surely getting something. Over the constant sound of close-passing blasts, she could hear the explosions and rumbling that meant Scion was feeling the pain.

And then … the shooting stopped. Or at least, it backed way the hell off. A few outcrops were still sending beams their way, but Vista and Atropos were able to dodge around them with ease.

Ashley looked around, and her eyes widened. The place, as unEarthlike as it was, was a mess. Explosions were going off here and there, and the avatar was no longer in existence. Neither was the section that had been creating it. One of her blasts had tracked clear across it, obliterating it from existence.

No. That wasn't me. Atropos turned the suit so my blast would hit it.

"So, was that it?" she asked, her voice rasping in her throat. She vaguely recalled screaming at the top of her lungs as she let out the constant blast. "We done here?"

"Nearly." The suit was still moving, though it was limping along on one turbine, victim of a grazing shot. From what Ashley could see, there was a lot of red showing on the board. "Just got to hit a few more key points, then we can get out of here."

"Um …" That was Flechette. "We might want to hurry it up. I was in LA for a bit, and watching for quakes was a thing. I've been spotting tremors coming through, and they're happening more often. With all these crystals, this place has to have a harmonic frequency."

"Exactly. Let's do this." Atropos swung the suit around an outcrop; out of sheer spite, Ashley blasted the beam crystal on top of it. "That big one over there. Top to bottom, take it all out."

Ashley eyed the 'big one'. It was the size of Captain's Hill, back in Brockton Bay. Challenge accepted. "You got it."

Leaning out of the hatch, she extended both hands—Flechette was hanging onto her waistband—and let fly. With both hands together, the cone of destruction was enormous, encompassing the entire hill and some of its surroundings. A lot of energy conduits must have run through it, because she started getting secondary explosions almost immediately. These went farther and created more destruction than any of the other ones so far, and even she could see the ominous tremors in the surrounding area.

"What is that?" shouted Vista over the constant rumbles and detonations. "Why's it doing so much damage?"

"That's the basic seat of his consciousness!" Atropos deftly steered the suit around a piece of flying crystal the size of the Forsberg building. "We kill that, he's done!"

Ashley said nothing; she just kept blasting. The energy flow was amazing; she could control it perfectly, and hit exactly where she needed to.

A tremendous explosion erupted directly beneath the suit, and Atropos veered them away. "Go back!" Ashley protested as she lost line of sight. "I hadn't finished!"

"If we don't go now, we're never going!" Atropos started flying the suit higher and higher, avoiding the few attack-outcrops that were still trying to blast them.

By now, the whole structure was rumbling and juddering; immense chunks of crystal, plus whatever it had been growing in, were falling all around them. Even Ashley, who had spent a good deal of her life in high-risk situations, could tell that this was not going to end well if they hung around.

"Where's the hole?" demanded Flechette. "It was just back there! It's gone!"

"It's closed." Atropos suddenly sounded tired. "One of the shards we blasted was what kept it open."

"But we've got a way out, right?" Vista stared at her, eyes wide behind her visor. "You can teleport."

"Go ahead," Dragon assured them. "I'll be fine."

Ashley suddenly had to stop and wonder about that. How was Dragon remotely controlling the suit, if they were cut off from Earth Bet?

"No, the portal's got to be static." Atropos took a deep breath. "I can do this exactly once." She pushed up her sleeve and popped the cover on her teleport module, then started typing on the tiny keypad there. "Flechette, in a second I'm gonna hand this to you. Charge it and chuck it."

Up ahead, two massive columns were teetering toward each other; Ashley leaned out and blasted them, but they were too big to destroy all at once. Vista did something with space, and they seemed to twist away, but she grunted and put her hands to her head. "I can't hold them long."

"It's good. Done!" Atropos hit the last key, and a huge portal opened directly in front of the suit. She slid it off her arm and tossed it to Flechette, who caught it. As part of the same move, Flechette ran her hand down it and hurled it out through the open hatch.

Atropos grabbed the controls and the suit surged forward, through the portal.

<><>​

The Shard Bar

Vista

As she had before, Missy found her point of view hovering around the head of an androgynous figure that looked like it was made up of constantly folding space. Now that she had a better idea of what was going on, she found it easy to recognise the avatars of the others, including the ninja with the impossibly sharp katana (that would have to be Flechette, she reasoned). Dragon's clockwork robot was looking a little more battered, though still in one piece. Glory Girl's glass statue was a mass of cracks that were only just now beginning to mend; she'd been through a lot.

The rest of the bar-room, though, was a mess. The counter had been smashed, and the gold-skinned bartender lay sprawled and unmoving in the rubble, looking far rather the worse for wear. Ashley's avatar stood over him, looking quite pleased with itself; the equivalent of smoke coiled up from the muzzle of its shotgun.

ALRIGHT THEN, announced Ending. Golden blood dripped slowly off his scythe, vanishing before it hit the floor. He turned his skull to survey the other shard avatars that had taken cover behind various bits of furniture. LET'S NOT DO ANYTHING YOU WOULD VERY QUICKLY COME TO REGRET, HERE.

"He's dead!" shouted a shard that looked like angled lasers shaped into human form. "The network is done! You can't tell us what to do!"

Ending took a step forward. Whatever it was that passed for light in this non-space gleamed off the edge of his scythe; if it had been sound, it would have whispered, sharp, sharp, sharp. Flechette's avatar stepped up on one side of him, katana bared and ready for action. On the other side was Ashley's avatar; the solid k'chak-chak of the shotgun's action being racked echoed loud in the room.

Ending's perpetual smile seemed to widen just a little. WANT TO BET?

"Okay, okay, fine." Another shard, this one consisting of solid rock with magma peeking through here and there, held up his hands in surrender. "So, what happens now? Are you going to grab the reins? Kill anyone who doesn't toe the line?"

NO. I AM THOROUGHLY UNSUITED TO THE TASK. The hooded skull turned, seeking, then a bony arm extended and an equally bony finger beckoned. HOWEVER, YOU ARE NOT.

"M-me?" The shard was a tall, statuesque woman wearing sumptuous robes, with a glittering diadem hovering above her head. "I thought you didn't like me."

I CONSIDER YOU PERPETUALLY VAIN, SHORT-SIGHTED AND INCAPABLE OF AN ORIGINAL THOUGHT. THAT DOESN'T MEAN I DON'T LIKE YOU. IT MEANS I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU, ONE WAY OR THE OTHER. NOW, IF YOU WERE TO TAKE OVER THE SHARD NETWORK, WOULD YOUR CURRENT DUTIES HINDER YOU IN MANAGING IT APPROPRIATELY?

Her pride apparently affronted, the shard drew herself up imperiously. "Hardly. I am Queen Administrator. While the duties bring me more data than I had expected, it is barely a blip on the screen to what I can manage, given the chance."

GOOD. YOU'RE IT. Ending pointed toward the corpse of the bartender. YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO GET ALL THE DATA YOU NEED FROM THAT. IF ANYONE GIVES YOU ATTITUDE, LET ME KNOW. He turned and surveyed the growing crowd—shards were coming in from everywhere, it seemed—and grinned again. I SUSPECT THAT THINGS ARE LIKELY TO GET A LITTLE BORING FOR MY HOST, AND I DO SO LIKE TO KEEP IN PRACTICE.

"Oh, ah, right." Queen Administrator edged carefully around him, then made her way to the remains of the bartender. When she got there, she paused and turned around to address Ending. "Um … so, any suggestions before I start?"

YES. THE GUIDELINES I GAVE YOU APPLY TO ALL TRIGGERS. NO BROKEN TRIGGERS. NO STUPID SELF-DEFEATING POWERS. NOTHING THAT HAS THE SLIGHTEST CHANCE OF DISTURBING THE PEACE OF MY HOST'S CITY. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?

She nodded jerkily. "Y-yes. Understood. But … ah … what about the Cycle?"

THE CYCLE IS ENDED, BY MY DECREE. THIS IS A NEW CYCLE.

Amid the growing murmurs from the crowd, she drew herself up once more. "A new Cycle. I can do that."

GOOD. He turned back to the crowd, and thumped the butt of his scythe against the floor. AND YOU LOT … DON'T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE.

Raising his hand, he snapped bony fingers.

<><>​

Glory Girl

Vicky blinked herself back to awareness as the Dragon suit staggered into the night sky over Brockton Bay. The one working turbine was struggling as Dragon and Atropos worked to put it down on the sole nearby piece of available real estate: the top of Captain's Hill. And then Vista pushed her hands together, and they were there. The craft dropped six inches onto its landing feet, and stopped moving.

By unspoken agreement, they popped the hatches and climbed out. Vicky stared at the exterior of the craft; she'd done her best to protect it, but there were bits missing, bubbled paint from near misses, and part of the tail appeared to be melted. Smoke trailed upward into the night air here and there.

"Damn," she muttered. "We took a beating."

"But it's all repairable," Dragon assured her over external speakers. "Everyone survived, which is the important part."

"Totally." Atropos was once more her upbeat self, which Vicky preferred over the laser-focused battlefield commander. "Everyone, you did spectacularly well."

"Uh, what happened to your teleporter?" asked Flechette. "Why did I throw it out?"

"Because it was Leet tech." Atropos paused to let that sink in. "Now, I may have mentioned the concept of 'exceeding safety limits' before. Most of Leet's stuff has stupidly low safety limits. Ending persuaded Prototype—his power—to push those limits way up for me. So long as I teleported within Earth Bet, and kept the teleports to four seconds or less, kept it human sized, and let it have a cooldown of two or three minutes between jumps, I could use it indefinitely. But earlier this evening, I did an eight-second jump, which raised the bar slightly. And just now, to get everyone out, I had to do a Dragon-sized portal that also crossed dimensional boundaries. That pushed it all the way over the safety limits, and into 'imminent fail' status."

"I could have possibly analysed and reverse-engineered it for you if you'd kept it," Dragon suggested. "Or are we talking about more than a normal Tinkertech style fail state?"

"Bit more, yeah." Atropos waggled her hand in the air. "Think 'megaton nuke detonation'. Which we needed, because he wasn't quite dead yet. If we'd left him, he may just barely have recovered. I don't play that game. When I End someone, they stay Ended."

"Well, shit." Ashley came in from the side and put her arm around Vicky's shoulders in a side-hug. Vicky found it oddly comforting, and returned it. "And you were walking around with that thing on your arm?"

"Sure." Atropos shrugged. "I knew exactly how to make sure it didn't go boom. And in the meantime, I could go anywhere in the world at a moment's notice. It's amazing what it did for my rep."

Flechette snorted. "Well, you're not wrong there." She looked up. "And it looks like someone finally noticed us."

Sure enough, Legend came in for a landing just moments later. "Good evening," he said politely, looking over the rather battered Dragon suit. "It looks like you've had an interesting time of it."

Flechette and Vista stepped forward at the same time.

"Trust me, sir," Flechette began, then nudged Vista.

It only took the younger girl a second to catch on. "—you don't know the half of it."



End of Part One Hundred Four

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part One Hundred Five: Debriefing

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



An Hour Later

PRT ENE Conference Room A

Atropos

"—yeah, I'm totally in town, but a funny thing happened on the way to the PRT building, so I won't be able to come see you until tomorrow. Yeah, sorry, it's a hero thing. Um, no, I don't know how much I'm allowed to tell you. Pretty sure they're gonna talk to me about that now." I watched as Flechette glanced around at where everyone was carefully not listening to her end of the phone conversation. "Yeah, me too. I mean, you too. You know what I mean. Bye."

Leaning back in my chair, with my feet up on another chair, I typed out a text of my own, to Parian.

Sorry about accidentally leaving Amy stranded in Philly. I have it on good authority that they're flying her back up right now, along with the other three. Totes my bad. I underestimated an asshole, but now he's dead so all's well with the world. See you next Saturday. Toodles.

The funny thing was, she'd probably think I was talking about an ordinary garden-variety asshole instead of the mega-bitch variety that Scion had been. (I mean, seriously, who mopes about their dead partner for thirty years instead of doing something constructive with their life?) The irony being, the thought of me killing anyone would leave her entirely unsurprised and unalarmed.

Raising my head, I turned and caught Vicky's eye. "Brace yourself," I murmured.

Her eyes widened, but she only looked slightly alarmed, probably due to her post-adrenaline crash. "What? Why?"

Right on cue, the door to the conference room opened and her parents burst in, Brandish in the lead. "Vicky! Are you okay? Where have you been? We've been so worried!" The last words were muffled, due to mother embracing daughter fiercely, but I heard them anyway.

"Y'know," I drawled without moving from my relaxed posture, "if I were the type to get offended easily, that might actually upset me a little. Relax. Unclench. Everyone did their jobs, and we all came home safely. Except the bad guy. He dead."

Flashbang stared at me. "Who were you fighting? Why did you need three other people to help you fight them?"

I raised a finger. "End. The word is End. I don't do battles where the other guy gets to walk away, unless I planned it that way from the beginning. As for who it was and why I needed other people … well, that's what this whole gathering's about." I gestured down the length of the table, to the other people already sitting around it. "Grab a chair. Park yourselves, and pin your ears back. You're about to learn some shit."

They retrieved chairs from the (sadly depleted) row that had been put up against the wall, and sat down on either side of Vicky. Flashbang took his turn to hug her, while Brandish wasn't finished with me yet. "I also got a call from Amy. The PRT's having to fly her and three other capes up from Philadelphia. If the battle's over, couldn't you just teleport down there and get them? You've gone farther than that before."

"I could've … if I still had my teleporter." My finger was raised again, to forestall her next words. "And while you'll absolutely be signing an NDA tonight, that bit's not on it. I'm just going to ask you nicely not to tell anyone about it, mmkay?"

Which of course put the seal on their lips more securely than any NDA could. After all, violating one of those pretty pieces of paper would only bring legal penalties. There were any number of illegal penalties that I could (and would) inflict without a second thought, and they damn well knew it.

"NDA?" asked Flashbang next, looking confused. "What in the world have you been doing that requires an NDA? Unless we need to be informed about the secret identity of an important cape?"

I had to chuckle. "For a very specific definition of the phrase … yes." Scion's secret identity as 'the big bad who wanted to end the world' would indeed be revealed to all. "But I'm not the one who's going to be running this show. Think of me as the peanut gallery." Raising my hand, I snapped my fingers just as the conference room doors opened again. "Ta-da!"

"Hello again, Atropos." Chief Director Costa-Brown entered the room, with Legend at her side. "It's good to meet you face to face at last."

We both knew (as Legend did) that I'd met Alexandria face to face when the Boat Graveyard got un-Graveyarded (and un-Boated, for that matter), but we were all going to politely ignore that aspect of matters. So long as she didn't stomp in my mud puddle, I wasn't going to stomp in hers.

As a show of common courtesy (I am totally capable of that, and anyone who says otherwise can bite me), I lifted my feet off the chair I'd been using as a rest, and stood up along with everyone else in the room. "And to you too, Chief Director. How's Wilkins doing?"

A corner of her mouth quirked at the reminder about the idiot ex-New York Director. "Everyone, please, sit." Her attention returned to me. "She's warming a cell. Contemplating her misdeeds. And you? Quite a feat you pulled off tonight."

"Team effort." I gestured toward where Missy sat with her parents, Ashley had Dad alongside as her union rep (not that this was a union situation, but moral support was totally a thing), Lily sat with Triumph and Armsmaster, Dragon's face showed up on a computer screen, and of course Vicky was flanked by her parents. "I can honestly say that I couldn't have done it without them."

"I'm personally astonished that you pulled it off with them, but we'll get to that." Costa-Brown turned to Director Renick. "Paul, you've got the NDAs all ready to go?"

"Yes, ma'am." That, at least, was no surprise. For all his inexperience in handling the PRT and Protectorate in emergency situations, the man was a past master at admin and paperwork. "I've already signed mine." Picking up the stack in front of him, he started around the table, dropping one at every place. "Please, take your time reading the conditions before signing." That everyone would sign was beyond a doubt; already, people were picking up the pens that had been laid out on the table ahead of time.

Dragon had no doubt already electronically signed hers, as had Director Piggot, who was observing the proceedings via her own screen. The latter was being looped in due to the fact that Lily had been there and might need someone to talk to about it later.

"I had my doubts when Emily designated him as her successor," Costa-Brown murmured to Legend, too softly for either Renick or Piggot to hear. "But the man definitely knows how to anticipate orders. Wilkins could've learned a thing or two from him."

In my opinion, the number of things Wilkins could have learned from Director Renick would've filled a stack of encyclopedias, but that would've also required her to be willing to learn.

As they took their places at the head of the table, Director Renick came up along my side, still handing out the NDAs. The last one was placed in front of Brandish, then he went back to his seat.

"Excuse me." That was Brandish. "I believe you missed Atropos."

I could have sworn the soundless gasp from basically everyone else at the table lowered the air pressure in the room significantly. The thought 'Oh no, she didn't' had to be going through every mind. I turned my head and gave her what she had to know was an amused look. She responded with the closest I'd ever seen to someone poking their tongue out at me, without actually doing it.

Director Renick raised his eyebrows slightly. "Everyone at this table should be fully aware by now that if Atropos chose to violate the terms of the NDA, there isn't a single thing any of us could do to enforce it on her. Likewise, I trust her word implicitly. If she says she isn't going to spread any of it around—and she's already assured me as much—then she won't."

Brandish's tone was pure lawyer-bland. "Well, if you say so, that's good enough for me."

I knew what she was doing; from the look on Dad's face, so did he. As a lawyer, if Brandish hadn't called out my lack of an NDA, it would've looked bad for her. So she mentioned it, knowing full-well that Renick (or perhaps Costa-Brown) would shut her down. But she'd crossed the T's and dotted the I's, and that was all that mattered. Her ass was covered.

The room fell silent apart from the subliminal hum of the air conditioning and the gentle rustling of pages being turned as the people around the table read their NDAs. Soon, this gave way to the equally quiet noise of signatures being scribbled on paper. In the meantime, I amused myself by checking the messages on my phone.

Foremost among them was one from Cherie. I'd already notified her that I was fine, and she was now replying. You ran off and killed someone who desperately needed it and left me behind? You suck. On the upside, hanging with Tenebrae and Miss Medic was actually pretty cool. TB's all kind of hunky, had you noticed? MM's noticed me noticing. She's already told me that if I hurt him, she'll carve out my spleen with a rusty spork. I like her. She's fun.

I would've chuckled out loud, but that would have then involved me explaining the humorous aspect to everyone there, and that would be tedious, so I didn't. Instead, as the last person (Brandish, naturally) finished scrutinising her NDA and signed it, I put my phone away and pretended to look attentive.

Director Renick cleared his throat. "Well, then. If you could kindly pass the NDAs up? Thank you."

When the stack on my side of the table came my way, I handed it on, then watched as Chief Director Costa-Brown squared them all in front of her. "Thank you all for coming here on such short notice," she announced. "Some of you will be aware that Atropos took Vista, Glory Girl, and … do you still go by Damsel of Distress?"

Ashley shook her head confidently. "No, ma'am. I do not. On the worksite, I'm Ash. Otherwise, I just use my real name."

"Thank you. Atropos took Vista, Glory Girl, and Ash, along with some others, down to Philadelphia for an informal meet and greet with several patients from the Parahuman Asylum there. A few hours later, she left very quickly, with the capes I have mentioned. Also, some people will have heard about the cape battle that took place south of the city this evening, starting a small forest fire and destroying a section of highway. Fortunately, nobody got hurt, and the fire has since gone out." She looked over as Dad raised his hand. "Yes, Mr Hebert?"

"I've already contacted Accord." I had to hand it to Dad; he'd gotten used to having an infamous supervillain as his planning coordinator really, really fast. "He's in the process of adjusting his plans to deal with the highway situation as we speak."

"That's good to hear." It was better than just 'good', and we all knew it. Anywhere else, that sort of thing would be held up for weeks while committees looked it over. If that section of highway wasn't sorted out by lunchtime Monday, I'd be astonished. Replanting the trees ashed by Scion's last big hit would probably take a little longer, but that wasn't my problem. "Now, all this came down to the thing we're going to cover here tonight. There has been, since the demise of the Endbringers, a secret that the highest echelons of the PRT and Protectorate were made aware of by Atropos, and that we've been necessarily keeping from the public. Specifically, the still-active members of the Triumvirate were filled in on it, as was I. Nobody else. Legend?"

"Thank you, Chief Director." As Legend took over talking, he glanced at me. I knew he had to be hoping that I wouldn't spill the beans at this late juncture, but he had nothing to worry about. While it hadn't been my idea to run with 'Atropos figured it out and told us' as opposed to 'we knew all along and kept it from everyone', I found it hilarious that they were giving me all the credit in order to save their butts from being raked over the coals. "If everyone can look at the screen, please? Yes, that's Scion. What we didn't know about him until very recently was that he wasn't the hero everyone saw him to be. In fact, his ultimate aim was to destroy the world."

He paused then, to let his words sink in. Around the table, everyone who hadn't been there was reacting with appropriate shock and surprise, including Dad (who'd already known, because I'd told him). I was fully aware that Alexandria was scrutinising everyone around the table to see if anyone was faking their reaction; I also knew that Dad was drawing on his power to convince everyone in this group activity (especially Alexandria) that his reaction was genuine. Oh, the tangled webs we weave …

Flashbang was the first to speak up. "If it wasn't Atropos telling us, I wouldn't believe it. He was the first hero, and the strongest."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." My tone was light, but I meant every word. "His sheer level of power should've been a clue, right there. Who just shows up with all the powers, then never talks to anyone, especially if they're the first one with powers? Every cape I've ever seen with more than one power literally can't shut up about them."

A chuckle ran around the room, somewhat rueful in the case of the adults. Even Vicky had to hide a somewhat embarrassed smirk. Evidently, there was enough truth in what I'd said to remind them of when they first got their powers.

"Yes, thank you." Legend had the humility to join in the general mirth. "Your point is well made. In any case, once Atropos had informed us of her awareness of his intentions, we did a little careful digging of our own, and found enough corroborating evidence to back her up. The trouble then was that we had no way to deal with him. He'd already demonstrated enough power to take down any cape, or group of capes, that we might field against him, and that was assuming we could convince enough heroes to go up against him, on minimal evidence. Chief Director?"

Costa-Brown nodded, taking up the narrative once more. I had to admire how neatly falsehood was being meshed in with reality; if I didn't know what was really going on, I might've even been taken in by it. "When I spoke with Atropos on the matter, she assured us that we didn't have to worry about it, that she had her own plans for dealing with him. Understandably, I was a little dubious about it, but she had just destroyed an Endbringer in front of dozens of witnesses, and made it look easy. So there was that."

"Can I ask exactly what these plans consisted of?" asked Armsmaster. I had to give him credit for his restraint; he'd clearly been straining at the bit since he first learned that Scion had been killed. "How did you do it?"

This was my cue. "I Ended Scion the same way I End all my other problems. I brought the right weapon along. Some people call it 'making it look easy'. I just go with the rule of the seven P's. Proper preparation, et cetera." I paused to make sure he didn't need me to explain the rest of it. He didn't (no big surprise there) so I kept talking. "I'd already made connections with the five capes I needed to help me out, so once I noticed Scion starting to pay hostile attention to me, I made sure to have them all close at hand, or at least available when I needed them. Glory Girl for her force field, Vista for her ability to shuffle space around, Ash for her Blaster ability, Flechette for her ability to charge items to cut through anything, and Dragon to give the rest of us mobility. This meant that when Scion made his move, I was able to scramble the troops, collect Flechette, then get close enough to insert a charged blade right where it did him the least amount of good."

As I spoke, footage started to play on the wall-screen at the far end of the room. It was from just as I'd gotten within range, and jumped at him. He caught me around the throat, which hadn't been the most pleasant of experiences, then my voice came across, rough and raspy, but just barely understandable. Someone (probably Dragon) had gone all-out with separating it out from the engine scream. "Hey, asshole. Existence is a privilege." Then, of course, I stabbed him, and he popped like yesterday's soap bubble.

Vicky turned to me, eyes wide, as voices rose around the room. "So that's what you said!"

"Holy fuck," agreed Ashley. "That was even more badass than I thought it was."

"Wait." Legend had his hand up, like a student trying to get the teacher's attention. People quieted as he spoke. "How was Glory Girl's force field supposed to help? It only covers her, nothing more." He paused as he saw exactly how smug Vicky's expression was right then. "… doesn't it?"

Brandish and Flashbang shared a startled glance. "Well, I thought it did," Brandish said. "Victoria?"

Vicky sighed, faux-modestly. "So, it turns out that if I'm encouraged really strongly by someone as terrifying as Atropos, I'm actually able to push my field out to cover whatever vehicle I'm riding in." She glanced at me, and I knew she was going to leave out any reference to the Shard Bar. Probably a wise decision, all told. "It still pops when it gets a good hit, but Vista was able to help us play keep-away until it came back."

Mr Biron (we hadn't been introduced, but that didn't matter) cleared his throat. "Are you really sure you needed her? She's twelve, for crying out loud! Way too young to be going into combat against capes like Scion!"

He shrank back as I turned to look at him—it appeared he and his wife remembered my one visit to their home quite vividly—but when I spoke, I kept my voice mild. "In a word: yes. We literally couldn't have done it without her. I'm very, very good at what I do, but there comes a point where no amount of skill can beat overwhelming opposition. With me at the controls, Scion couldn't use his combat precog to predict where we were going to be, but he could simply saturate the sky with his attacks. Every time we took a hit, Vista made gaps where there were no gaps, until Glory Girl's force field could come back online. She saved us, time and again."

Missy raised her chin. "Can I just say something?" I bowed slightly and made a go-on gesture, so she stood up. "I just want to say that even though I had no idea what I was getting into, and I was terrified the whole time, I'd do it again. Because it needed doing, and because I knew Atropos wouldn't put us into any danger she wouldn't go into herself, and she always comes out alive. That's all I wanted to say." Carefully, as though her knees were shaking, she sat down again.

I took a deep breath. "Thank you, Vista. Your dad's right, of course. You're too young to be going into life-and-death combat of any kind. So's everyone else here. I'm about the only one who's not going to be psychologically affected by it, because my power's already desensitised me to the idea of killing. But the trouble is, when someone like Scion needs to be permanently stopped, someone's got to do it. The paradox here of course is that you don't want to send proven killers to do your killing, because they might get a taste for it. You need people who don't like killing, because they'll stop." I gave her a serious nod. "And if you ever need to talk about what happened, I'm no psychologist, but I recommend Jessica Yamada. She's pretty good at it."

Missy nodded. "We've met. She's nice. You think I should?"

I gave her a thumb's up in lieu of a smile. "Couldn't hurt."

"Thank you, Atropos and Vista." Legend effortlessly took up the ball once more. "From what I understand, Scion wasn't human, or even remotely so. He was keeping the majority of his body hidden in an extradimensional space?"

"Yeah." I gestured at Ashley, across the table. "That's what Ash was along for. Well, that and keeping golden boy honest while we were retrieving Flechette. If she hadn't been along for that bit, he would've come up on our ass and splattered us. But once we got into his home space, she just wrecked him. Doesn't matter how good the rest of us were. We wouldn't have done one tenth the damage she did. And then we got out by the skin of our teeth, just before the whole place blew."

By the time I finished, Ashley was visibly sitting straighter, enjoying my praise and the stares of everyone else. Then, like Vista, she steeled herself to speak up. "Uh … can I say something now?"

The Chief Director nodded. "Certainly you may." I hid a grin; she was definitely learning more than she'd expected from this.

Ashley cleared her throat. "Yeah, well, I just wanted to say that none of this would've happened if Atropos hadn't turned my life around for me. Got Panacea and Miss Medic and Flechette there to fix my hands so my power worked right, then got Mr Hebert there to bring me into the Betterment Committee, then got Scapegoat and Teacher to fix my head. If anyone had told me back when I first tried to sneak into Brockton Bay …" she broke off, frowning.

"January eleventh," I offered helpfully. "Tuesday. You got off the bus at three in the morning. I'd spent the night blowing up drug stashes."

"I remember that," murmured Armsmaster, just loudly enough for me to hear. Every other hero at the table nodded, as did Director Piggot. This didn't surprise me. Operation: Drugs Are Bad had been memorable, intentionally so. Using drugs to make a mushroom cloud—twice—sends a message. Fuck off with that shit.

"Yeah, that's the one." Ashley nodded. "If anyone had told me then that you'd ask me to come gank the biggest baddie there was in two months and one week, I'd think they were nuts. And I'd probably try to kill them, because that's how I was back then."

"Thank you for that, Ash." Legend bestowed his trademark warm smile upon her. "I'm truly pleased to see that you're doing better. And thank you for your part in this. We all owe you a great debt of gratitude." He gestured around the table. "Each of you, in fact. Flechette, did you have anything you wanted to say?"

Lily blinked, then nodded. "I … I guess so. I came into this halfway through, but I've been through enough with Atropos that it was just a matter of 'oh, we're doing this now?'. I'm glad I could help out, and that we got it done, and that Atropos trusts me to get it done. Like Vista said, I'd do it again, in a heartbeat." She spread her hands. "Um, yeah, that was it."

"This is the girl, by the way," observed Vicky, "that when Atropos said to jump out of a chopper mid-flight, she jumped out of the damn chopper." She gave Lily an admiring glance.

"What?" asked Lily, sounding defensive. "You caught me." I got the distinct impression that she would rather not have had that come up any time soon.

The Chief Director cleared her throat. "Be that as it may. The time has come to discuss exactly how this is to be presented to the public. We have four options before us: first, we have no idea where Scion may have gone to; second, we put forth that he had to go back to his people, gave a moving farewell, and left; third, we tell the truth; fourth, we tell the public that he recently turned evil and had to be put down."

I briefly raised my hand. "Or fifth, we use the bit about how he's always been evil, but instead of me being the only one to figure it out, we tie in that secret organisation Cauldron. Say it was formed way back when to counter him, but they're incompetent as hell, so when I showed up, they were glad to stand back and let me take care of him."

Legend visibly flinched at that (at least, it was visible to me) and I was pretty sure I could hear Chief Director Costa-Brown's tendons creaking as she clenched the fist that was out of sight under the table. "Ah—" began Legend.

Director Piggot snorted. "That last one actually sounds the most plausible, to be honest. The only problem is, who do we use to stand in for agents of Cauldron?"

Dragon spoke up at that point, her voice briskly professional. "Easily done. A dark silhouette against a bright background, with the 'C' logo showing, and run the voice through a modulator. I could put together a sample shot in five minutes."

"Oh." Flechette raised her hand. "And it even makes sense that Cauldron supposedly sells super-powers in a bottle, if they're trying to put more and more capes out there for an army to fight Scion." She sounded quite pleased with herself; meanwhile, Triumph looked like he wanted to hide under the table.

The Chief Director shared a glance with Legend, which I interpreted as, okay, what the hell. Let's run with this. They weren't happy, but if they pushed back too hard, people might start asking why. "We can do that, yes," agreed Legend, then hesitated. "Ah, Atropos, I don't think there'll be a reward this time. There was no publicly perceived threat, you understand."

"Like I keep telling you people," I said with an exaggerated sigh, "it's never been about the money. It was about making Brockton Bay a nice, safe, prosperous place to live, and I intend to keep it that way." I shrugged. "Besides, the Betterment Committee has a very solid revenue stream for the next ten years, and I'd be astonished if Accord doesn't include plans for some of that to get invested for ongoing passive income thereafter."

"That is indeed in the plans," Dad confirmed. He looked around as people started edging their chairs out and preparing to get up. "So, was that it?"

"It appears so." Legend stood up. "Thank you all, for helping out with this. Remember, what you tell anyone must line up with the story we'll be telling the public. With Dragon's assistance, 'Cauldron' will be presenting a TV spot in the next few days to announce their thanks to Atropos." The smile he gave me wasn't even forced, which just confirmed my suspicion that he was a nice guy, even in defeat.

The Chief Director's jaw muscles, on the other hand, could probably have cracked granite.

"Well, that works for me." I stood up and pushed my chair back. "It was really great working with you all. I hope it never has to come to that again, but if you want to hang out, I'll be down on the Boardwalk next Saturday for the Rogues' Guild show. Toodles." Opening the conference room door, I stepped out, heading for the elevator.

Behind me, I heard the door open and close again. "Atropos!" Legend called. I pretended not to hear him. The elevator was already on this floor (mainly because I'd pre-programmed it to be) so when I hit the button, the doors interleaved open immediately. I stepped inside.

"Atropos!" This time it was the Chief Director. I could tell she was pissed about the dig I'd made at Cauldron. Well, it sucked to be her.

I jabbed the 'door close' button, and my view of the corridor was cut off.

<><>​

YOU TWO CLOWNS KNOW WHAT I WANT. IF YOU DON'T PLAY BALL, I WILL COME OVER THERE.

DO IT NOW.

<><>​

Legend

Using just a little of his flight speed, Keith made it to the elevator before it started moving, and pressed the button to open the doors again. Rebecca was just behind him, fuming. He knew she wouldn't make any hostile moves against Atropos (because she wasn't stupid) but she still wanted to have a few sharp words; without her teleporter, Atropos would have no quick way to duck out of it.

The doors opened.

The elevator was empty.

Keith shared a startled glance with Rebecca. "What the hell?"

She had no answer, either.

<><>​

Atropos

I stepped out of the Doorway into my living room, and smiled.

It was so nice when Ending could help me reach an understanding with people.

I wouldn't use it often, but I could see it coming in handy from time to time.



End of Part One Hundred Five

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part One Hundred Six: Epilogues 1

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



The story rolls on, even though the vast majority of enemies have been vanquished. There is very little Ending to do from this point on, and so we will allow Taylor to have her happily ever after.

There will, however, be loose ends to tie up.

Let us begin …

<><>​

Sunday Morning, March 20, 2011

Atropos

Cherie and I sat on the sofa, watching the new TV spot. Dragon had done well; the flickering was just right, the voice modulation was just harsh enough, and it was almost possible to see a face within the glared-out silhouette. If I didn't know better, I could easily believe that it was real.

"We have sought refuge on the dark web for years," the darkened image intoned. "Scion has always been the enemy, but spreading the word too zealously would have made him suspicious. Instead, we sold powers to the rich and the desperate, to those who would use them and gain expertise. We wanted more parahumans in the world, to fill the ranks of the eventual army we would need to oppose him when he inevitably turned on us. But we had too few, and they were too weak, until Atropos came upon the scene. She, too, saw Scion for what he was. And he saw her. He also saw the good she was doing in the world, ridding society of the evils that plagued it. He could not abide this, and so he attacked her. But she saw him coming and armed herself against him, and so he fell."

The picture cut to the footage of me jumping at him, being grabbed, then stabbing him. Just like every other time Cherie had seen it, she shook her head. "You're nuts, you know that, right?"

"Eh." I shrugged. "It worked, didn't it?"

The picture cut back to the silhouetted footage. "With the death of Scion, our purpose is ended. We are dissolving Cauldron; no more powers will be sold. Do not attempt to seek us out. Any who seek to trade on our name are impostors, and to be avoided. This is Cauldron, signing off forever."

The TV spot gave way to an advertisement that promised flawlessly shining floors after one treatment (terms and conditions applied).

"Your dad told me that if it's stupid and it works, it's still stupid and you got lucky." Her tone was severe. "Taylor, you haven't got your teleporter anymore."

"I know." It was good, I reflected, that I hadn't fallen prey to the temptation to use it for mundane tasks, such as getting to school on time. "It died for a good cause, though."

Cherie smirked, mischief creeping over her face. "Have you seen the PHO responses?"

Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! "No, I hadn't checked yet." I gave her the side-eye. "Is it bad?"

She shook her head and giggled. At least she wasn't yelling at me anymore. "Some of them are all what the fuck, some are scrambling to join either the fan club or the cult, some of them just don't believe it, and some of them are I knew it. I just knew it. Bagrat is just flabbergasted, and Reave is very much Yup, that's the Atropos we know and respect. It's utter chaos on there, and I love it."

My threatscape hadn't bloomed with any new enemies, which I took as a good sign. In fact, most of them had dropped off it, and the rest were reducing in intensity by the minute. "At least nobody's wanting to hunt me down for murdering their god."

"Nah, that was the Fallen." She gave me a side-hug. "Nobody really connected to Scion, you know? He was just … there, but boring. Finding out he was the big bad all this time, and you show up and just gank him in the most spectacular stabbifying of all time, that's basically satisfied so many narratives. You're right on the sweet spot of 'too famous to ignore' and 'too scary to stalk'."

"Gotcha." I snorted with amusement. "So anyway, what's this about Tenebrae being hunky? Do I spot a little bit of a crush?" I gave my voice a teasing note, though I was ready to back off if she didn't follow up; I knew quite well how her previous experiences would've soured her to men in general, and to any kind of romance at all.

"Maybe." She waggled her free hand from side to side. "He's a good guy. And when I say that, I mean a good guy. He didn't ogle my ass or tits or try to cop a feel even once, he was always polite, and he's so damn protective of Miss Medic all the time." She sighed. "I just wish I could meet a guy who's not your dad who'd feel that protective about me."

"He's dedicated, I'll give him that." I shrugged. "Maybe when he's relaxed and off duty, he might be more interested in you? If you were interested, that is?"

"Maybe." She gave me a sly glance. "Or maybe I'll introduce you when you're not being Atropos and he's not being Tenebrae, and watch you blush and stutter your way through the most awkward conversation in the history of conversations."

"Meh. Not something that really interests me right now. I just want people to get on with their lives, and for Brockton Bay to be a nice safe prosperous place to live, you know?" I leaned into the side-hug, and gave her one back in return. "Because I want to live in a nice safe prosperous place, and get on with my life."

She leaned over to bump her head gently against mine. "Well, if anyone's earned it, hon, you have."

<><>​

Sunday Afternoon, March 20, 2011

PRT Department 1: New York

Director Emily Piggot

"Okay, all finished." Miss Medic's tone was bright and upbeat. "You can get up now."

Emily frowned as she heard the distinctive sounds of the surgical tools going back into Miss Medic's bracers. "That's it? You're done?" Lying face down on the table with her top pulled up to her bra-line and her underwear the only thing covering her from the waist down, she had still expected far more to happen. With just a female surgical tech to assist if necessary, Miss Medic had only spent a few minutes on her; Emily had felt several pulls and jabs at her back and on her calves, but nothing like the lengthy procedure she'd expected.

"Well, yeah. If I were you, I wouldn't go jogging for at least a week, but steady walking for at least an hour a day is totally a good idea." Miss Medic nudged at Emily's elbow, then helped her sit up and pull her top down.

This was still going too fast for Emily. "And my kidneys?" Any normal surgery involving kidneys, she understood, took hours of microsurgery to carefully connect everything up.

"What, these old things?" Miss Medic grinned and picked up a familiar-looking jar from the table that would normally have held all the surgical tools. When Emily had last seen it, there'd been a perfectly normal pair of kidneys suspended in the nutrient fluid that filled it, connected by a tiny heart that was beating nineteen to the dozen. Now, the heart drifted in there, forlorn and still, accompanied by ragged shreds of what Emily belatedly recognised as having once been kidneys. "I had to take a bit longer than usual because of the scar tissue, but the new ones connected up just fine."

"Jesus." Emily stood up, steadying herself against the table. Her calf muscles felt weird, like there was too much in there, but they supported her just fine. "How many people have you operated on where they just blinked and missed the surgery altogether?"

Miss Medic giggled as though Emily had made a joke, though she'd been mostly serious. "A few." She took up Emily's pants from where they were hanging over a nearby chair, and handed them to her. "Now, you're likely to feel a bit tender around the surgical sites for the next few days. No dressings were necessary, but if you feel pain or swelling, have someone check it out. Take it easy, though, and you should be good."

Carefully, Emily stepped into her pants and fastened them up. She could feel the slight pulling from the places where Miss Medic had gone in, but it was thoroughly bearable. The first few weeks after Ellisburg had been so much worse.

"Understood," she said, then took a deep breath. "And I don't say this to many capes, but … thank you."

Miss Medic beamed at her. "It's totally okay. Glad to help." She nodded to the surgical tech, who went over and unlocked the door.

A moment later, it opened; Tenebrae stepped inside and gave her a respectful nod. "Ma'am. All good here?"

"Yes. I suppose it is." And for the first time in a long time, it really was.

<><>​

Monday Morning, March 21, 2011

Lord's Port

Ash

The rusted ship hull loomed over Ashley, even though she was standing fifty feet back from it. Painted down the side of the hull and continuing in a dead straight line over the dingy, cracked concrete to where Ashley stood were two painted stripes, each a foot wide, with a two-inch gap between. One was red and one was green, for maximum contrast; the flimsy framework before her, consisting of two vertical wooden boards with a similar gap between them, allowed her to line up perfectly on the painted stripes.

"Test shot, ready," she said quietly, the headset she was wearing picking up her voice and transmitting it over the net.

"Test shot, go," the response came back immediately.

"Test shot, firing." She extended her index and middle fingers together between the two boards, sighted where the red and green stripes met halfway up the hull, and released a two-second shot, straight through the ship and twenty feet out the other side before it decohered. If the painters had done their measurements correctly, it would exit between the stripes on the other side of the ship.

A long moment passed, then the headset crackled in her ears. "Test shot, on target. Commence cutting."

She smiled in satisfaction. "Copy that. Cutting now." Aiming at the base of the hull, she unleashed her power again, the crackling beam tearing into the ship and slicing all the way through with ridiculous ease. Up and to her left, the massive cranes that were already latched onto the slice that she was removing from the ship's hull were ready to take the strain.

In less than a minute, she finished the cut; the cranes creaked and their engines thundered as the twenty-foot-wide hull section was lifted away to be scrapped more easily. Ashley stepped back to let the frame guys line it up for the next shot; at the same time, the foreman's voice came over the headset. "Hold cutting, hold cutting. Civilian on worksite, coming to speak to Ash."

"Copy hold on cutting." Ashley took a moment to grab a drink from the squeeze bottle of water hanging from her hip. While using her power wasn't nearly as strenuous as she figured slicing with an oxy-torch would be, it was still thirsty work. When she looked around, it was good that she'd put the bottle away, because it was Accord approaching her, with a lady in an evening dress and a gem-studded mask following him. If she'd still been drinking when she saw him, some of the water may have gone down the wrong way.

Memories flooded back of her confrontations with the small man back in the days of the Boston Games. She'd been young and brash, and he'd been thoroughly in control of the situation. But now it was another time, another city, and she was a different person.

"Good morning." She could at least be polite to him; from what she could understand, it was his plans that were making all this possible. Making her life here possible. "Can I help you?"

"I've been watching you." Accord didn't do small talk, or even things like hello, how are you. "When last we met, you were the epitome of chaos. Dangerous, impulsive, unpredictable. Even your powers were likely to erupt at the wrong moment. You could not be trusted."

"That's true." He hadn't sugar-coated it, because that wasn't his way, but it was still accurate as fuck. "I was a hot mess back then. Things have changed. I've changed."

Is he here to fire me?

She recalled Danny Hebert assuring her that he was the only one who had the power to do that. Of all the men she'd ever known in her life, she felt he was the first one she'd ever trusted implicitly with her well-being. His presence alongside her at the PRT building had steadied her immensely.

"That's true." The metal shards that made up Accord's mask shifted slightly as he looked up at her. "When you first came to Brockton Bay, I expressed doubt regarding your suitability for working here. Had I had my way, you would have been gone, especially after the incident with the truck."

Ashley didn't react, though it was an effort. She'd apologised at the time, and she owed Accord nothing.

His gaze didn't shift. "However, I have viewed reports regarding you since, and your work has been exemplary. In addition, footage has come to my attention that shows you risking your life to assist Atropos in destroying Scion. It isn't often that I change my opinion about people. I have changed it about you. I no longer have reservations about your presence on this work site. Keep up the good work."

Turning, he walked away again. Ashley blinked a couple of times. O … kay. I think that's the closest he's ever come to apologising to anyone. And he still can't get it right.

She watched as he climbed back into his limo, which drove away. Her headset crackled. "Civilian off site. Recommence cutting."

"Copy that," she said automatically. "Ready to recommence cutting."

<><>​

Saturday Afternoon, March 26, 2011

Boardwalk

Salvage

"There you go, miss." Sal finished packing the last of the toys into the container the Followers had brought. "Will you be alright with that?"

"Yes." The red-headed girl with the shears pendant nodded seriously. "The Following has more members now, and they do not mind bearing heavy loads for the rest of us." As she spoke, a hefty young lad with a short haircut stepped in to pick up the container. As he lifted it with a grunt, his shirt sleeve shifted and Sal saw a tattoo that looked suspiciously like a swastika that had been scribbled over with a marker pen.

"That's true," the muscular young man agreed. "Our Lady in Darkness would wish us to atone for our prior misdeeds and solve more problems than we cause. So, we do what we can to help others."

"Good to hear." Sal watched as they headed back to a car where a red-headed man—possibly the girl's father—opened the trunk for the young man. Leaning back in his chair (one he'd built himself, so he knew it could take his weight), he sighed. Well, back to making toys. It wasn't that he was bored with making them, but he could do that at home (and often did). While he was on the Boardwalk, he preferred to interact with people …

"Excuse, please. You are Salvage?" The voice brought him up short. It was electronic, of a type he'd heard recently from TV news articles. Looking around, he found himself staring at an Eagleton: the first he'd seen in real life. There were three of them, actually, but only one was speaking to him.

"Ah … yeah, that's me. Can I help you?" He eyed the Eagleton, wondering if it wanted him to make a tiny version of itself, or maybe weld on a mohawk.

"Am Pradesh Eagleton. Arm is problematic." The robot turned side-on, and moved one of its arms up and down; he heard a distinct buzzing as its servos refused to move any farther. "Few repair facilities available on weekend. Can you assist?"

"Ah, sure." He stood up and came around the table. "Let me have a look at that." Close up, he figured there was definitely something he could do about it. "Looks easy enough. Okay if I take it off and have a proper look inside?"

"If you can fix, please do." Pradesh held still as Sal undid the bolts and screws necessary to remove the arm.

Once it was off, he sat down again and started going over it in detail. The mechanical aspects looked perfectly understandable to him, and he pointed out the problem to the robot. "See, right there? You've got a tiny burr in the rotator socket. Just give me a second …" He plugged the correct rotary wheel into the socket in his torso, and fired it up. Working with careful precision, he smoothed down the burr, then went over the rest of the arm, fixing the calibration where it had drifted slightly off specs. "Okay, that should do it."

"It is fixed?" Pradesh sounded surprised. "Was fast." The other two Eagletons started a conversation between themselves in what sounded like high-speed Morse code.

"Well, we'll see how I did in a second. Hold still." Getting up again, he reattached Pradesh's arm, making sure to keep track of the screws and bolts. "Okay, how does that feel?"

Pradesh flexed the arm, the shoulder socket whirring gently as it traversed back and forth. "Is very good. More capable than before. How much to pay?"

"Uh …" he paused. It had only taken him a minute or two to do, but he wasn't sure. Parian's words came back to him, from one of their strategy sessions. If you don't charge what it's worth, they won't value your work. "… a hundred bucks?"

"Is good price." Pradesh produced a stimulus card from somewhere, and Sal hastily tapped the figure into the electronic reader he'd recently invested in. When the robot tapped the card on the reader, there was an agreeable beep to show the transaction had gone through. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Sal expected them to move along, but then the next Eagleton came up to him. "Am Gerald Eagleton. Have been having trouble with leg joint. Can fix?"

"Okay, let's have a look." As Sal got up, he had a sudden presentiment of the future, of Eagletons queued up at his table every Saturday afternoon.

Well, it'll definitely be regular work.

<><>​

Saturday Evening, March 26, 2011

Palanquin Nightclub

Anne Barnes

The nightclub was pumping as Anne got out of her car. While the music wasn't quite rattling her car windows, it was definitely audible, and the lighting all over the building was rippling up and down in a very cool pattern. Taking a deep breath and smoothing her dress down, she ventured forth toward where the line was already forming.

Should I join the line like everyone else? Or should I see if they'll let me in ahead of the crowd?

As she vacillated, she was surprised by someone landing beside her, wearing slacks and an attractive blouse. "Hey, good to see you!" shouted Crystal over the general hubbub, giving her a hug and a quick kiss. "C'mon, let's get inside! Mel's probably already waiting on us!"

"But shouldn't we …" Anne trailed off as Crystal towed her toward the front of the line, hand firmly clasped in hand. She had to admit, it felt just a little exciting for a genuine superhero to take charge of her like that.

People glowered as they watched Crystal and Anne move past, but Crystal ignored them and Anne could only shrug mutely in apology. When they got to the front of the line, two large bouncers stood there, letting only a few in at a time. Crystal moved up to the closest one and said something in his ear.

His head came up and he got his partner's attention. They both looked over at Crystal and Anne, then the partner held up a phone, flicking from one image to another on the screen. He nodded, and the closer one unhooked the rope to let them through.

Grinning broadly, Crystal tugged Anne through the gap, nodding politely to each of the security guys. Anne could only imagine the outrage of those who had to wait to get in: Hey, how come they get to jump the line? And of course, the answer: They're the boss's girlfriends, dumbass.

Anne had never been in here while it was operating before, and she stared around wide-eyed. The multicoloured lighting made it seem magical and otherworldly, while the sheer number of people was a little overwhelming. Then she saw an Eagleton tromp past, the lights glittering off its polished metal carapace, and she knew she was definitely in Brockton Bay.

"Crystal! Anne! You made it!" Melanie came down the steps, clad in what looked like the same dress she'd been wearing the night they'd almost been mugged in an alleyway. She embraced Anne first, giving her a kiss that made Anne's head spin, then did the same with Crystal. Anne tried to give as good as she got, but she figured she was going to have to work at it a bit.

"Good to see you too, Mel!" Crystal snuggled in on one side of the nightclub owner, while Anne went in on the other side. It wasn't Anne's preferred situation—she liked to be sandwiched between the two—but it was still quite nice. "So, you've got it up and running?"

"We have!" Melanie gave them each a beaming smile. "Come on, I'll show you!"

Anne wasn't quite sure what 'it' was, but she was definitely open to finding out. With Melanie's arm holding tight around her waist, she allowed herself to be swept along, through the crowd (that semi-miraculously parted before them) and around a corner to where there was another bar. Except that the patrons lining up at this bar were exclusively Eagletons. The neon sign over the bar read 'The Electric Screwdriver'.

As she watched, a small conical cup-like device was handed off to an Eagleton, though she'd never seen a drinking glass glow a brilliant blue like that. The Eagleton moved away a few steps, then pressed the top of the 'glass' to its head. A few sparks jumped from the 'glass' to the robot's head, and it let out a woozy electronic, "Wooo!" Someone that Anne had at first thought was another Eagleton, but which she realised had a human head on top of a mechanical body, gave it a high-five then guided it to sit down at a nearby table.

"Oh, wow." Anne shook her head in wonder. She'd seen the file Atropos had sent Melanie, but she hadn't been sure it would work. "You did it! You made robot booze!"

Melanie grinned, clearly pleased at her response. "That we did, hon. What do you think?"

"Well, I think it's a genius move," declared Crystal. "Pretty sure you're gonna be drawing most of the Betterment Committee clientele here."

"Which is the basic idea, right?" Anne leaned in and kissed Melanie on the neck. "If they want to drink with their work buddies, this is where they'll be coming."

"Damn right." Melanie squeezed Anne, then returned the kiss, somewhat more lingeringly. "So, how about we go upstairs and watch the floor from my office? Non-alcoholic drinks, maybe a bit of dancing …?"

Anne met Crystal's gaze, and they both nodded at the same time. A little quiet time with Crystal and Melanie was a lot more attractive than the surging mob down here. "Let's go," she decided.

Melanie smiled, and they headed up the stairs together.

And if anything more than dancing went on, it was strictly between the three of them.

<><>​

[A/N: Some of the dialogue from the following section comes from this apocryphal omake, by @Lycanthromancer.]

Monday Morning, March 28, 2011

Winslow High School

Greg Veder

If Greg hadn't been attending Winslow for the last couple of years, he would have not believed he was looking at the same school. Even the sports fields had been freshly re-turfed, and the parking lot had a brand-new layer of asphalt and neatly laid-out garden beds. The exterior of the building gleamed, and the bronze lettering informing everyone that they were entering Winslow High was polished to a high shine.

"Whoaaa …" he murmured, staring around in wonder as the front doors were pushed open and he entered with the rest of the tide. The flooring underfoot was attractively patterned, the walls were a gentle eggshell blue, and the lighting overhead was LED rather than fluorescent, far more pleasing to the eye.

"Hey, check it out!" Someone he vaguely knew was pointing in through the window set in the door of the Computer Studies classroom.

"What?" He got close enough to see for himself, and blinked in surprise. Not only were the desks and chairs a lot more comfortable looking, but the computers were the latest model as well. "Score!" Turning away from the door, he nearly bumped into someone, but pulled himself up short. "Whoa, sorry."

"That's okay, Greg." Taylor Hebert gave him a quick smile. "So, they've got new computers. That's really nice."

"Yeah." Even knowing what he did about her (well, he was reasonably sure) it was still easy to talk to her. "Hey, you see that stuff about Cauldron? I was totally right, all along! And I bet a few of their experiments with powers warped people's bodies and minds. They're why we have so many case fifty-three's, and super-strong villains like the Slaughterhouse Nine, and this super-Thinker boogieman that assassinates people from the shadows when they step too far out of line! And one of their first experiments was a Master who called up the Endbringers as projections to feed his own ego! They were so powerful that Eidolon had to sacrifice his powers to stop them!"

One of the other students rolled his eyes in scorn. "That's about the dumbest thing I've ever heard, Veder. Nobody could be that comically evil, that incompetent, or that dumb."

"Oh, I don't know," Taylor said mildly. "I think he could be right on the money." She patted Greg gently on the cheek, then opened the Computer Studies classroom door and let herself inside.

The door closed behind her, leaving Greg to wonder what the hell just happened?

From the way everyone else was staring at him, they didn't know either.



End of Part One Hundred Six: Epilogues 1

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part One Hundred Seven: Epilogues 2

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



Sunday Morning, April 17, 2011

Aisha Laborn

"Bye, guys. Have fun making Brockton Bay just a bit safer for everyone." Aisha tried to inject a little pep and happiness into her voice, but she was pretty sure she wasn't fooling anyone.

Riley came back and gave her a hug. "Well, me and Brian are heading down to New York to pick up Shebang, then Strider's gonna take us to the next lot of Grey Boy loops. It's easier to do it on a Sunday, when there's not a lot of foot traffic around."

Theo did the same, because he was nice like that. "And I've put my name down to volunteer for work with the Betterment Committee. When I get back, I'll help you out with your homework."

"Aww, thanks, big guy. I'll see you then." She hugged her bestest cousin and her brother-from-another-mother, and watched them go out the door. It closed behind them, and she made sure to secure the latch. Because while there'd only been one Goddess stupid enough to try to pull that crap on her girl Atropos, it didn't mean there wasn't some other moron out there just waiting to see if he could top that.

She'd always had problems with her attention span, so while the TV managed to hold her for a little while, and her homework kept her sitting still a bit longer, eventually she let out a groan of exasperation. "Argh! Why? Why does my stupid brain keep running around in circles?"

"Well, I can't help you out with that," a gentle voice said from behind her, "but I can definitely assist with other things."

Aisha spun around and reflexively threw her pencil at the fractally changing form that stood between her and the door. "Fuck! Get away from me! If you don't fuck off, my girl Atropos will totally fuck up your entire existence!" Leaping off the sofa, she ducked around to the end of it. Weapons. Weapons. I need weapons.

The humanoid form, which looked vaguely feminine and had a woman's voice but in no other way looked human, caught the pencil then put it down on the coffee table. "There's nothing to be worried about."

"Yeah, as if!" She made a dash for the kitchenette; when she grabbed the carving knife and turned around with a snarl of triumph, the fractal cape was still standing by the sofa. "Now, fuck off before I do to you what Atropos did to Scion!"

"I believe you would try, but it would do neither of us any good." The fractal form seemed to frown; suddenly, it was holding a clipboard. "What am I doing wrong …?"

Aisha stared: this was the first time she'd ever heard of a cape bringing a clipboard to a home invasion. "Do you want a list by fuckin' alphabetical order or by how badly you just fucked up?" There was another reason she'd come into the kitchenette; the panic button under the counter would bring an armed PRT response in less than a minute. She jabbed it without taking her eyes off the fractal form in the living room.

"Ah, yes." The cape took their eyes off the clipboard. "My mistake. Step one: introduce yourself. Hello, I am here to give you super-powers. I would like to open a dialogue with you as to exactly how you would like them to manifest."

"What?" Aisha jabbed the button a few more times, just in case. "Powers? You haven't been paying attention. Cauldron's dead an' gone."

This time, the fractal cape actually sighed. "No. I am not with this 'Cauldron'. I am a power shard, here to bestow a parahuman power on you. I believe Foundry did much the same with one of your close associates?"

"Uh …" It began to dawn on Aisha that she may have been overreacting just a little. "Yeah, Theo told us about that. You're like Foundry?"

"I am, yes. My name is Evocation. I deal with perception and memory. The powers you gain from our collaboration will have to be something to do with that."

"Okayyyy …" Cautiously, Aisha put down the knife. "Just so you know, that door's about to be kicked in by a bunch of PRT guys with no sense of humour."

"No, it is not." Evocation gestured at the room around them. "Nothing is happening while we speak. You only thought you moved. This is all taking place inside your head." They gestured at the TV. "Observe."

Now curious, Aisha came back around the pillar into the living room. When she got there, she saw that the TV was replaying the last three seconds of what she'd seen before Evocation appeared. "Oh. Gotcha. Think you could've maybe changed things around, so I didn't make a twit out of myself?"

Evocation shrugged, rather expressively for something that had no real facial features. "We are still new to this 'cooperation with hosts' concept. It is uncertain as to whether instituting a change in the environment might also alarm your kind. The new guidelines we're operating under absolutely mandate informed consent from both sides. If the host is panicking and running in circles because their whole world just changed, it defeats the purpose."

"Okay, yeah, let's say you have a point." Aisha went over and dropped back onto the sofa. "So, perception and memory, huh?"

"Exactly." Evocation seemed much happier, now that Aisha was moving things along. "Just as a suggestion, I could make it so everyone forgets you as soon as you stop wanting them to remember you. It would make it really easy to avoid people you don't want to talk to."

"Pfft, no, that's chump change." Aisha rolled her eyes. "Plus, it's got a couple of glaring flaws. If I got knocked out, nobody would remember that I even existed. Pass."

"Hm, very true." Evocation scribbled something on the clipboard with a pen they hadn't had ten seconds ago. "Sorry, I haven't gotten around to updating my suggestions list."

"Nah, that's okay." Aisha rested her right elbow on her left hand and rubbed her chin with her right hand. "Okay, so if I got something too villain-y, Atropos would probably make a sarcastic comment, but I don't want anything useless either. How about … people forget any bad stuff I've just done and see me as their best friend?"

Evocation paused for a long moment. "We can do that if you want, but Queen Administrator advises me to remind you that this is very close to the powerset that Nice Guy had. If you were still intending to avoid villainous connotations, that is."

"Crap dammit. Villains spoil all the best powersets." Grumpily, Aisha put her elbows on her knees and cupped her chin in both hands. "Okay, how about this. I can make bad guys forget that specific things exist, and they can't even see them after I make them forget. Like, if someone's pointing a gun at me, they'd forget the gun exists, and absent-mindedly put it down somewhere. Or if I'm holding a baseball bat, I can make them forget that exists, and I can beat the living fuck out of them with it and they have no idea what's going on."

"That's entirely possible." Evocation tapped the clipboard with their pen. "I have a question for you. If you've made a largish item imperceptible, such as a towel, can you hide behind it and effectively make yourself invisible, or will they be able to see you behind it?"

"Wait." Aisha frowned. "You mean, I get to pick? I thought that was the sort of thing you were supposed to decide."

Evocation shrugged. "It used to be that way. Hosts—that's your kind—had no input, and we'd wait for a lot more trauma before we jumped in. We'd make sure we almost solved your problems, so you'd run yourselves ragged trying to fill that gap. But now it's a new Cycle, a new network, and new rules. Ending says we have to be nice, so here we are. Being nice. What's it going to be?"

"Before we get back to that." Aisha sat up, fixing Evocation with a hard stare. "So, you're not catering to my whims because you like me or think I'm worthy or anything like that?"

"Hah, no." Evocation made the clipboard return to whatever esoteric space it had come from. "I'm a crystalline supercomputer larger than a city block, and you're a weak squishy human. I got told that you're in line to get powers, so here I am. But don't imagine for a second that I actually like you. Of course, you're the troublemaker type, which is more likely to garner me more data, which means in time I'll probably tolerate you. But right now? I couldn't give a damn."

"Haha fuck yes!" Aisha caught the look of bafflement on Evocation's non-features, and laughed harder. Finally, she managed to control herself, and sat up again. "If you'd pulled some shit about me being extra special, I would've told you to fuck off. But you were brutally honest with me, so I'm good with that. Okay, I want them to be able to see me through shit."

"Are you sure?" Evocation had the clipboard out again. "This means it will be harder to hide if someone is chasing you."

"And if I make a door imperceptible, and close it behind me?" Aisha leaned back on the sofa and grinned. "Not only will they run into the door, they won't even be able to find the damn doorknob."

"… ah. That's a good point. So, range and total size of items you can affect at once? Note that one goes down as the other goes up." Tap-tap went the pen.

"As big as ten feet will get me. But, if I spend time concentrating, maybe the range or the size can go up?" Aisha was sitting forward now, eyes intent.

"A little, yes. Not a great deal, but if you practice, it will get better. Right now, your maximum size is 'car'."

Aisha pumped her fist in the air. "Awesome. Okay, give me all that."

"Done. Enjoy your powers." Evocation vanished, and Aisha found herself sitting with the pencil in her hand. The TV started playing picture and sound again as she looked around.

"Huh," she said, and tapped the pencil. It went ghostly, but was still perfectly visible to her. Her lips pulled back from her teeth in a decidedly evil grin.

"Excellent."

<><>​

<Cherish has entered the chat>

<Regent has entered the chat>

Cherish: Hi

Regent: hello

Cherish: It's … been a while

Regent: Yeah, it has

Cherish: he's dead, if you didn't know

Regent: Yeah, I heard. And I felt it.

Cherish: I was right there for the whole thing. And it was a whole thing.

Regent: You lucky bcow

Cherish: bcow?

Regent: started out bitch, decided didn't want to insult you, changed to cow

Cherish: still an insult you know

Regent: not as much of one

Cherish: true I guess

Regent: So if you were there, I guess you're in BB?

Cherish: Yeah. When did you leave?

Regent: Couple days after Coil bit it. We were working for him. Never knew.

Cherish: huh. I got in just after the 9 got ganked. I remember seeing it on my phone.

Regent: yah we missed that. Had to leave Grue behind. Not really our fault. Had his own place, got snatched up by PRT & flipped.

Cherish: Yeah I met him. He's kinda hunky, gotta say.

Regent: Whoa no dating my ex teammate.

Cherish: Just ex teammate or sth more? I saw the footage.

Regent: Haha that was us fucking with him to make time for team escape. Tt's idea

Cherish: Right sure. He's totes protective of Miss Medic though. Gotta admire that.

Regent: You know who she really is?

Cherish: yeah. I do. And I wouldn't spread it around.

Regent: Okay how tf do you know? I only know bc Tt told me.

Cherish: So you know how I only got as far as BB? And how I was there for DOD DOA?

Regent: DOD? (I know what Dead On Arrival is)

Cherish: Dear Old Dad (sarcasm as far as the eye can see)

Regent: Right, okay, yeah I got that. So what?

Cherish: So I was desperate enough to go try to get recruited by the 9

Regent: fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck me

Cherish: To stay out of HIS hands, yeah?

Regent: ………. Okay yah fair call. But you said they were dead b4 you hit town

Cherish: They were. So I figured if I could get Atropos on side, she'd protect me from well everyone and everything. But mostly him

Regent: ……….. so how'd that turn out exactly

Cherish: She kicked the shit out of me when I tried to master her. Confronted Nick & Guill bc they were right on my tail. Nick pulled a gun so she killed him, Guill surrendered so she handed him to the PRT. Me, she kept as her minion. I had no choice in the matter.

Regent: hahahahahahahahahaha

Cherish: Upside, I get to sleep in a house. In bed, alone. Her dad's like all those impossible TV dads who never get pissed and never hit you or make you do stuff you really really hate

Regent: That's an upside. That's a really good upside.

Cherish: I learned how to cook real food. We do chores, watch movies, play board games

Regent: fuck you've been domesticated

Cherish: Do not knock it until you've watched The Princess Bride over a pizza with your boss slash bestie, bawling your eyes out because it's so sweet. And that was the third time around

Regent: I've heard of that movie. Is it really that good

Cherish: Changed my life. Not actually fucking with you. Literally changed the way I look at life.

Regent: and her dad?

Cherish: Watched it right along with us. No tears, but he likes it too

Regent: And this is Atropos. The one who fucking spread Skidmark over a couple hundred yards of asphalt, chopped Jack Slash's head off, cut Butcher Fourteen up into fourteen sections, shot the fucking Simurgh out of the sky with a shotgun and stabbed Scion to death with shears. That Atropos. Watches chick flicks with you

Cherish: Totally. And she's set it up so I'm going to school, too. Holy fuck there's so much stuff I didn't know

Regent: School. You. The fuck?

Cherish: Again, do not knock it. People like me for me, not bc I make them. Also, they've recently rebuilt the whole school. Top to bottom. All brand new facilities. Took one week.

Regent: ur shitting me

Cherish: It's what you get when you happen to live in a city that's got a billion dollars a month dropping into the renovation fund. Shit gets DONE.

Regent: scuse me just picking jaw up off floor. Billion with a b?

Cherish: Second letter of the fucking alphabet brother dear.

Regent: I am totally in the wrong line of work.

Cherish: I'm not. I've personally helped fix some seriously nasty shit—I was there for the Butcher fight and when Damsel of Distress showed up in town the first time around—and Atropos and her dad are totally giving me the space to learn how to be me.

Regent: I really don't know you anymore

Cherish: That's fair. I really don't know me anymore either. Which is good, bc I used to be a nasty bcow, thanks to DOD (DOA)

Regent: yeah me too. I like to think im getting better. One day at a time, you know?

Cherish: you know, if you called ahead and asked Atropos if you could visit without doing crime, she'd probably let you come ahead. I mean, I can check with her myself if you want.

Regent: ……

Regent: ……

Regent: you know, I think I might. But I'll definitely check ahead first.

Cherish: She's a total sweetie. I think you'd like her.

Regent: I'll take your word for it.

Cherish: So's Miss Medic. When she saw me looking Tenebrae over, she threatened to carve out my liver with a rusty spork if I hurt him. Kinda reminded me of our sisters. Cute in a dangerous way

Regent: haha I'll take your word for that too.

Cherish: So when were you thinking of visiting? So much to talk about.

Regent: I'm thinking sometime around Christmas. It'll give me the time to get my nerve up

Cherish: To face Atropos? I told you, I'll talk to her first.

Regent: To face you.

Cherish: oh.

Regent: But don't worry, ill be there. Tt will undoubtedly read my messages and bully me into coming.

Cherish: Well, however it happens, im looking forward to it.

Regent: me too

Cherish: Oh, one more thing. They actually do Christmas here, like in the movies. Presents under the tree and everything. I'll put one under there for you, so you better show up and collect it.

Regent: okay yeah I gotta see this. Fucking twilight zone bullshit.

Cherish: haha you don't know the half of it. See you then.

Regent: ill be there

<Regent has left the chat>

<Cherish has left the chat>

<><>​

Saturday, May 21, 2011

PRT ENE Building

Armsmaster

Colin watched the image on the screen as the waldo inserted the gallium-molybdenum component into the module, moving with micrometric precision. He knew what it did, and even how it did it … mostly. But making it do what it needed to do, he couldn't achieve that on his own.

Which was why the three of them were collaborating, of course.

Ever since Atropos had ensured that he learned Dragon's biggest secret, they'd been working together more and more closely. He'd assisted her in unravelling some of the stubborner knots in her programming, freeing her to be the person he knew she'd always wanted to be. The debt they both owed the black-clad killer was indisputable, which meant that when she finally got around to approaching Dragon for a favour, they were absolutely not going to say no.

She'd supplied the impressively detailed user manual for her original teleporter, which included a whole appendix of diagrams and schematics, and asked if they could maybe replicate it, though she'd be happy with one-way portals. Even though this made it easier, they were still making heavy weather of it until Dragon had the idea of actually contacting Leet for his input.

Ten seconds later, Leet's phone number had popped up in a text from Atropos.

The work had gone much more easily after that; even though Leet couldn't strictly replicate anything he'd already made, it turned out that he could still advise. Once he'd gotten over the tongue-tied aspect of working with Dragon (and to a lesser extent, Colin) he was able to make some cogent suggestions, most of which were readily applicable to the work at hand.

The component clicked into place, with a slight left-hand twist (as advised by Leet) and Dragon locked it down. "Done," she stated with satisfaction as more waldos placed the outer casing on the module and fastened it into place. "Now all we have to do is run the self-tests, and let Atropos know it's ready."

A notification popped up in Colin's HUD, and he flicked his eyes up to read it. "Ah, we can scratch informing Atropos. She already knows." The door to his laboratory, which had been secured with a sixty-second rotating ten-digit code, beeped as it unlocked, then hissed open.

"Hah, yeah, that's what it's like." Leet grinned from his screen as Atropos entered the workshop, looking around with interest. "So how did you break my teleporter, anyway? I thought I made that damn thing indestructible. Or at least, built in enough failsafes that it wouldn't just die in less than six months."

"Portal-jumped a three-ton Dragon suit with five people aboard out of a pocket dimension into realspace." Atropos shrugged. "Could've happened to anyone, really."

Leet blinked. "Okay, yeah, I can see how that would kill it. From the lack of radioactive mushroom clouds on the news, I'm guessing you left it behind in the pocket dimension?"

"Yeah, Scion wasn't quite dead yet. Two birds, one stone." She nodded to the screen. "You do good work when your power feels like cooperating with you. I got a ton of use out of it."

"Yeah, no shit. Well, I can't guarantee this one will work exactly the same, but I did my best to help out. I'll tell Uber you said hi, yeah?"

She touched the brim of her hat with two fingers. "You do that, and thanks." As his screen blinked off, she turned to Colin and Dragon, the latter showing on her own screen. "And I want to thank the two of you for this. It'll help a lot."

"You're welcome, but I've just got one question." Dragon's image raised one flawless eyebrow. "If you've removed the patch that prevents me from seeing you, how did you get to Armsmaster's door without being spotted? I've got eyes on all the security cameras."

Neither of them was going to bother asking how she'd known to be there at the right time. That was just a thing she did.

"Oh, I've still got the building hacked," Atropos explained carelessly. "You're watching what the camera software lets you see. And I'm the one who tells the cameras what to see."

Colin shook his head. "I'd take it as a personal favour if you removed those backdoors before the Director found out. Even though it's you, he'd still be a little miffed with me."

He got the distinct impression that she'd just grinned. "No promises, but I'll think about it."

The module beeped, and waldos lifted it off the test rig and set it on the bench. "Self test comes back all green," Dragon announced. "I have to ask, what do you actually need it for anymore? There are no big villains left, and you're capable of getting nearly anywhere you need to be without teleporting, as you've just proven."

Atropos pushed back her sleeve, picked up the teleport module, and slid it onto her arm. As though she'd been using it all her life, she locked it into place and popped open the cover for the data entry screen. "Oh, I've still got a few uses for it." Without looking, she tapped in a series of coordinates. "Thanks again. I truly appreciate this." As she had done with Leet, she tapped the brim of her hat with two fingers. "Toodles."

As she snapped the cover shut and pulled down her sleeve, the portal formed before her. It was a little darker and more ominous than the previous one she'd used, with suggestions of a Gothic doorway.

Without hesitation, she stepped forward into it and vanished.

<><>​

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Brockton Bay General Hospital Parking Lot

Shebang

Alice looked around at the pavilion that had been set up in the hospital parking lot, and the rows and rows of gurneys within it. Each had a patient on it, with a life-signs monitor beeping away on a stand next to them. Doctors and nurses were circulating here and there, checking on the patients, but the focus of attention was on Miss Medic.

Director Piggot, currently chatting with Director Renick, had made the trip up from New York with Alice for this occasion. While this could have made Alice more nervous—after all, who wants the boss looking over their shoulder at a moment like this?—it had the opposite effect.

In the three months since Piggot had addressed the New York Wards for the first time, they'd had a good (if distant) working relationship. Unlike Wilkins, Director Piggot had made her requirements clear from day one, and had given her the room to achieve them. She also tolerated no bullshit and no bullying, as shown by how hard she'd shut Rune down once she took the reins.

The Director was also looking a lot better since Miss Medic had fixed her kidneys and legs—the news about that had gone around the New York PRT and Protectorate bases like wildfire—to the point that she'd been seen on the running track, being paced by some of the troopers. It was kind of a pity that she was retiring at the end of the month; Alice figured that if anyone could run the PRT in New York properly, it was Piggot.

Alice looked over as Miss Medic emerged from the screens that had been set up around one of the gurneys. As she held up her hands, the bracers went through their disinfecting cycle, spraying antiseptic and soap on her hands and the instruments then cleaning them off again. The nurses shifted the screens to the last patient in the row, and she stepped out of view again.

Alice figured she knew Miss Medic pretty well by this time. They'd gotten along well while they were dealing with the Grey Boy loops, and the collaboration on this project had been equally fruitful. But it never failed to astonish her just how fast the kid could finish an operation.

To keep her mind off what was due to happen next, Alice made her way to the geometric centre of the pavilion. Sitting on its own little table, with blinking lights that had nothing to do with life support and everything to do with destruction, was her latest bomb. She looked over the readouts and her tension eased slightly; everything was still in the green.

There was a muted cheer and she looked around. Riley had emerged from the last operation, her hands held high once more. It was more to do with cleaning than attracting adulation, but people still cheered anyway.

Director Renick lifted a portable microphone to his lips. "Excuse me, all." The pavilion quieted. "I would just like to congratulate our very own Miss Medic for this marvellous exhibition of marathon surgery. But this isn't all. You see, while Miss Medic has removed the cancerous growths from all our courageous volunteers here, there is one more step to go. For that, I will hand matters over to Director Piggot from New York."

Piggot stepped forward, accepting the microphone. "Thank you, Director Renick. As we all know, cancer can be particularly insidious, so we are trialling a unique mode of post-operation care. Shebang, who has made her mark in taking down Grey Boy loops, has created a new device that we will be using today. Everyone within its radius has been tested for cancer, myself included, so there hopefully won't be any surprises today. But as for what we're actually doing, here's Shebang to explain it in her own words."

Alice blinked as she was handed the microphone. She hadn't known she'd be speaking, or if they'd told her, she hadn't been listening. Shit, what do I say? Okay, first things first, don't swear. Director Piggot might not say something at the time, but the woman could eviscerate with a glare at ten paces. "Uh, so I call it my cancer bomb. It probably needs a better name than that, because that sounds like it causes cancer, instead of curing it. Maybe anti-cancer bomb? Funny story, I'm also working on a bomb that'll clear radiation from an area, so you could call that an anti-cancer bomb too …" She trailed off. Don't ramble, don't ramble! "Uh, if we're all ready?" She looked around. Nobody was waving frantically at her to stop, so she crossed to the device. Unlike most of the bombs she built, this one was perfectly safe to set off by hand. "Okay, then. Three. Two. One." She rested her finger on the go button, then looked around one more time. "Bang." The button made a decorous click as she pressed it, there was a rising hum from the bomb, then a soundless flash washed out in all directions.

There was silence for a second as everyone did a personal self-check, then one of the doctors held up a kidney dish that had previously held a (very recently removed) mass of tumorous cells. "Water! It's water! It worked!"

Well, yeah. I was pretty sure it would. But she didn't say that out loud. Nor would she admit to her shaking knees.

Miss Medic came trotting over, and offered her a high-five. "We just saved a whole bunch of lives. Are we good, or what?"

"Yeah," agreed Alice. "We're real good."



End of Part One Hundred Seven: Epilogues 2

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part One Hundred Eight: Epilogues 3

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



11:55 PM, Thursday June 30, 2011

Roof of the PRT ENE Building

Flechette

A warm breeze blew across the roof of the building where the current crop of Wards (and one other) sat in a circle on folding chairs, around a radio perched on a small footstool. Most of them wore civilian clothing, with domino masks to protect their identities from any importunate fliers. Lily was pretty sure that no hostile cape in the world would come near the PRT building on this night, when Atropos was part of the gathering.

Browbeat looked over at where Atropos was fiddling with her new teleporter. "Not that I'm complaining, but why are we up here again, rather than down in the Wards base? We all know that nobody's going to say a word about you being down there."

"Because it's nice up here." Lily stretched out in the chair. "You can relax and look at the stars, and just for a little while, nothing matters."

"Exactly." Miss Medic nodded. "Just chilling and relaxing. Soda?" She reached into the small cooler beside her chair.

"Yes, please." Lily caught the bottle that Miss Medic tossed to her, and opened it. "It's definitely a lot less frantic than the last time we were out and about at night."

"So, I never really heard all the details about that." Chariot, predictably, had something with wheels on his lap that he was fiddling with. "Was it really that bad?"

Vista shuddered. "It was worse. Glory Girl was doing her best, but her force field kept going down, so I had to wedge holes between the blasts for us to fit into until it came up again. And we didn't always fit."

"You did well enough." Atropos was idly spinning a throwing knife between her fingers. "Flechette, charge this for me?"

"Sure, okay." Lily leaned across and gave the blade a charge.

Aegis looked around. "Um, just out of curiosity, what's that for? Is someone about to attack?"

"Nah, just tidying up some loose ends." Atropos tapped a button on the teleporter and a portal opened in mid-air, about one foot square. She threw the knife and it vanished into the portal, which closed a moment later.

"Did you just kill someone with that?" Gallant didn't sound thrilled with the idea. While we were sitting here watching you, went unsaid but was heard by all anyway.

Atropos didn't bother denying it, which wasn't exactly a change for her. "They totally had it coming."

Clockblocker sat up. His helmet off, he was wearing a white domino mask. "So, you mean to say you had a teleporter the whole time, but you kept pretending it was you being sneaky in the shadows? Kudos, is all I gotta say."

"Oh, a lot of it was me totally being sneaky in the shadows." Atropos had gone back to fiddling with the teleporter. "I didn't get my first teleporter until just before Gesellschaft tried to sneak those drugs and guns in by boat."

"I remember that." Kid Win, like Chariot, was working on something. As far as Lily could tell, it was the shoulder-pad from his power armour. "You told them not to come, but they came anyway. And … boom."

"That's the occupational hazard when it comes to dealing with Atropos," agreed Tenebrae, who already had a soda in hand. "I learned early on that if I think I know what she's up to, she's at least three steps ahead." He reached across and clinked his bottle against Paladin's. "And just saying, Atropos, I truly appreciate what you've done for my family."

"Damn right." Figment, Tenebrae's little sister and the newest member of the Wards, appeared to be hovering in midair in a seated position, like a flyer showing off. Lily knew intellectually that Figment had the ability to make something effectively invisible and untouchable, but it was almost impossible to make herself believe what she'd been told. As far as her brain was concerned, there never had been a chair there. "I wouldn't have an awesome sister and bro, which would totally suck."

Paladin nodded. "Trust me, it'd be worse from my side." Leaning forward, he turned the radio up. "I think it's nearly time."

"It is." Atropos had another throwing knife in hand. "Flechette, if you don't mind?"

"What are you doing with those?" Even as she asked the question, Lily gave the blade the same level of treatment that she had the first one. "And don't just say 'tidying up loose ends'. Without context, that means nothing."

"Oh, you'll figure it out soon enough." Atropos generated another foot-square portal, and flicked the second knife through it. The portal closed just as quietly as the first one had.

"And now for a special announcement by New York PRT Director Emily Piggot, speaking live from her office. Director Piggot?" Everyone sat forward at that, even Figment, who had never served under her.

"Thank you. My name is Emily Piggot, and I've been a PRT Director for ten years now. I am announcing my retirement as of five minutes after midnight, but before that comes into effect, I would like to make one other statement. You see, just over four months ago, Atropos killed the Simurgh in Canberra, Australia, in a highly spectacular and widely publicised manner. At that time, she accepted a proposition to kill the other two Endbringers, although she had to sacrifice Eidolon's powers to make it work. In all the time since, the Endbringers have never been seen or even detected, so the PRT feels comfortable in stating that as of this moment, July the first of two thousand and eleven, Behemoth and Leviathan are officially gone." She paused for a moment. "I will make the point now that it was Atropos herself who settled on today's date to make the announcement. And on that note, I'm also done. Piggot, out."

Lily tilted her head. It may have been her imagination, but she was sure she could hear cheers rising across the city. The feeling was incredible, that she'd had a part in … wait a minute.

She turned to look at Atropos, who had two throwing knives spinning idly through her fingers. Flicker, flash. Flicker, flash. And then they vanished again, by some trick of legerdemain that she couldn't quite fathom. Two knives … just now … Connections started clicking together in her head.

"What?" asked Atropos innocently. "That was a pretty good speech, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, totally," agreed Clockblocker. "Director Piggot was a hardass, but she never backed down when it counted."

Atropos stood up. "Don't mind me. Just stretching my legs." She strolled off toward the edge of the roof.

Lily knew a cue when she saw one. Climbing to her feet, she ignored the questioning glances of the others and hurried after Atropos. "Those knives …" She didn't know how to ask the question.

Atropos tilted her head slightly, as though nodding, and Lily knew she was right. "I hate to make people into liars. The Endbringers were shut down but not dead, until now."

Lily glanced around. The other Wards were still sitting around the radio, listening to the rising tide of celebrations, so they hadn't heard any of this. Which was of course Atropos' intention.

"But you said …" she began, again trailing off.

"I never said they were 'dead'. I said their threat was Ended. And it was, until some rich idiot decided last month that he was going to dive the Mariana Trench and look for Leviathan's body." Atropos snapped her fingers. "Now, that's all he'll find."

"Right." Lily nodded. It all made sense, if she looked at it through the lens of 'if I were Atropos'. "Why didn't you do this before? I mean, I could've charged those knives for you at any time."

"My first teleporter opened two-way portals. The water pressure down there would've come out like a solid block of stone doing twice the speed of sound. And the magma down where Behemoth is wouldn't have been any friendlier." Atropos' tone was matter-of-fact, as though talking about the weather rather than brutal forces of nature that would absolutely kill anyone nearby.

"Ah." And that also made sense. Lily nodded in understanding. "Thanks for letting me know."

"You're welcome. I'll just say my goodbyes, then I've got places to be." Atropos headed back toward the gathering.

Lily dawdled on her way back, think about what was going to happen once people heard the news. The next few days would be busy, if only to keep people safe from the results of their own excesses of celebration, but they'd be worth it. Knowing for a fact that the Endbringers were dead was a bonus all of its own.

By the time she'd returned to the group, Atropos had shaken hands with Tenebrae and gotten hugs from Miss Medic and Figment. Lily wasn't quite into hugging, but she offered a fist-bump, which Atropos readily returned.

"Well, I'll see you around. Toodles." Atropos touched two fingers to her hat brim, and vanished.

"And that happened." Clockblocker shook his head. "Is it bad that I don't even see it as weird anymore?"

"Not in the slightest." Kid Win slapped him on the shoulder. "Trust me, buddy, we are living in the best of all possible worlds."

That was a pretty good description, Lily mused. It was a world where she could go and see Emily any time she wanted.

Life was good.

<><>​

Friday Afternoon, November 18, 2011

Victoria Dallon

If there was one thing Vicky knew how to do, it was smiling for the camera. She'd been doing it since she got powers (and before), and she'd known all about the concept of 'public image' for almost as long. So this wasn't nearly as problematic as it might have been for some.

Hovering two hundred feet up, she fluffed her hair out and looked over at her camerawoman, who also happened to be her cousin. "How do I look, Crystal?"

Crystal gave her a thumb's up. "Amazing. Rolling in three … two … one … go." At the word 'one', she hit the button to record on the digital video camera she had glued to her eye.

"Hi!" Vicky flashed a grin and waved to the camera. "Most of you probably know me already as Glory Girl, but I turned eighteen three days ago, so that name's starting to get a little bit dated. Also, wow, 'Glory'? Quite apart from the dirty jokes—and yeah, I've heard them all—isn't that just a bit pretentious? So, I've decided to change things up and rebrand as … Beacon!"

As she spoke the name, she pulled a three-hundred-sixty-degree spin, twirling out from under the cloth she'd wrapped herself in. This revealed her new costume: more hard-wearing than skin-tight, but retaining the white-with-gold-accents from her older costume. Like the rest of the New Wave fliers, she'd decided to dispense with the skirt, going neck to toe instead. In the middle of her chest (some female capes went with the plunging neckline look, but she'd seen that go bad way too many times) there was a stylised image of an oil lantern, adding a golden glow to her costume there.

They gradually began to descend to the ground below, but there was more in the script. Crystal was an old hand at this, and knew her lines. "Tell me, Beacon, what are your plans now that you've rebranded?" As she spoke, she took hold of the camera with a small force field and moved it away so that they were both in picture.

"I'm glad you asked me that, Laserdream." Vicky shot the camera a gleaming smile. "You see, I've enjoyed my time in New Wave, but that isn't really my thing anymore. From what I understand, the team intends to stay in Brockton Bay for the foreseeable future, not that I blame you all, considering how nice the place is now."

"I'll say." Crystal gestured at the sparkling waters of the bay, swivelling the camera in that direction. "The Boat Graveyard's been cleaned up, and look! There goes the ferry!"

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," agreed Vicky. "But I want to be a superhero and fight crime. Thanks to everything that's happened over the past year, there's just not a lot of need for crimefighting here in Brockton Bay, so I'm going to be moving along. I'm thinking I might go to Chicago and join the Protectorate there."

The fact that this was where Dean had gone to once he aged out of the Wards into the Protectorate might have had something to do with this decision. While their breakup had been occasioned by her discovery that he'd gotten powers from Cauldron instead of the way she had, she'd decided in the end that it didn't matter to her anymore. If they had any possibility of getting back together, she wanted to give it the best chance she could.

"We'll definitely miss you." Crystal gestured downward. "But you're not the only one leaving New Wave, are you?"

"No, I am not." Vicky watched as the camera tilted to follow the gesture, and continued to descend. "Everyone who knows of the Rogues' Guild is probably aware that my sister Amy, better known as Panacea, has been spending a lot of time on the Boardwalk in the company of Parian. Well, I'll let her tell her own story today."

They landed on the sidewalk, in front of the small storefront. In one window, there were fluorescent flowers, mushroom people that waved to passers-by, and a happily panting dog with rainbow fur that gradually changed colours. The other window, by contrast, showcased dresses and other clothing, all of obviously high quality. The sign that stretched across the entire storefront read: BEAUTIFUL THINGS.

Vicky walked ahead and pushed open the shop door, grinning at the muted lion's roar sound that was produced instead of a normal jingle. She held the door for Crystal, then moved along once her cousin had it.

Within, the shop was comfortably lit. Amy and Sabah, having been fully aware this was happening, were waiting as Vicky came in with Crystal. Amy wore a flowing gown with animals and plants of all kinds embroidered upon it, while Sabah wore her Parian costume without the mask. Hand in hand, they smiled for the camera.

"Hi!" Amy said, waving happily. "I'm Amy, otherwise known as Feronia."

"And I'm Sabah, otherwise known as Parian." Sabah also waved. "Welcome to Beautiful Things."

"Well, this is different," observed Crystal, panning the camera from side to side. "Gorgeous pets and plants to order on one side, and high fashion on the other. And may I say, you make a lovely couple."

Amy blushed fetchingly at that. "I still can't believe we're together. I remember the first time we met, she made a doll for me. Then she gave me her number."

Sabah squeezed her hand. "I couldn't concentrate all afternoon, until she rang me that night. The only thing I remember about that conversation was her asking me to tell her about fashion."

"Well, you should've seen Amy showing that doll around." Vicky moved up and hugged them both, making sure to stand behind them so she didn't block the camera's view of them. "So, did you want to tell everybody about your plans for the store?"

"Totally," agreed Amy. "For one thing, we're thinking of going into wedding catering. I mean, you can see how amazing Sabah is at making clothing that makes you look good. For my side of things … well, talking flowers that direct guests to the bride's or groom's side aren't exactly out of the question. And that's just for starters."

"That brings up an interesting point." Crystal moved so the picture was framing them all. "Why Feronia? What's the context there?"

Amy grinned at the camera. "Because 'Panacea' is actually the name of the Greek goddess of healing, but I do so much more than healing. Whereas 'Feronia' is a Roman goddess of wildlife, fertility, health and abundance." She gestured at her side of the shop, and the camera obediently panned in that direction. "As you can see, I do some pretty wild things with life."

"That's for sure." Crystal moved the camera in the other direction, to take in some of the intricate stitchwork on Sabah's handiwork. "And Sabah, you're still going to be part of the Rogues' Guild?"

"Of course." Sabah smiled at the camera when it panned back to her. "We both are. Amy and I still help put on a show every Saturday. It's where we first met, and I intend to keep it going as long as possible."

"Awesome." Vicky smiled at the camera, then watched as it did one last pan around the whole shop. "So, anyone who's interested in seeing something new and fun, or wants to see a true master of needlework in her element, come on down to Beautiful Things, or catch the Rogues' Guild on the Boardwalk on Saturday afternoons. And I'm totally not saying that just because Amy's my sister. They really are that good."

Crystal was behind the camera this point, so she was able to turn it off without the classic 'reaching for the camera' scene that spoiled so many online clips. "And we're offline," she announced. "Good spot, people. I think that'll turn out nicely."

"Thanks." Sabah put her arm around Amy's waist and hugged her. "That'll give us some really good publicity."

"Not as much as when you unmasked." Amy snuggled into her embrace. "People were mobbing the Guild for weeks. They were just blown away."

"Yeah, well, you can only pull a reveal like that once," Crystal observed pragmatically. "Nowadays, it's 'Parian? Yeah, she's cute' and they leave it at that. Nobody even remembers why you wore a full-face mask for so long."

"Well, this is going on my channel, and it's gonna stay at the top for as long as I can keep it there." Vicky gave her sister and future sister-in-law another hug. "It's the least I can do for you."

"Thank you." Sabah gave her a grin. "Any time you want to come in and browse, or maybe order something special, be sure to ask for the friends and family discount."

Vicky chuckled. "As opposed to what?" She laughed out loud as Amy poked her tongue out at her. Leaving Crystal to chat with the couple, she pulled open the shop door—grinning at the roooaaaarrrrr—and set off on a stroll along the Boardwalk.

After all, nothing improved name recognition like being seen out and about.

<><>​

Relevant Side Story

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Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Cauldron Base, Some Other Earth

Atropos

When I stepped through the portal, my first impression was someone spent far too much time in hospitals. The corridor was white, the floor was white, the walls were white, and the ceilings were white. Someone with powers had to have created it, especially given that I was pretty sure these corridors went on for hundreds of miles.

Overhead, an entire ceiling panel flickered, then returned to its steady white radiance. This said to me that the place would eventually break down, which suited me just fine. The sooner the better.

But I wasn't here to destroy an altar to a year-dead agenda. That could happen on its own. I was after people.

My boot-soles sounded only the whisper of footsteps on the smooth floor, just the way I liked it. For weapons I had my shears and my pistol; I was pretty sure anyone I might meet would be either utterly immune to anything mundane I could throw at it, or I'd be able to beat them easily. Ending was confident about the latter.

Then I heard the muttering, up ahead. It didn't sound like a recording of any sort—not that this looked like the kind of place that would have recorded messages—but I had to get closer to make out the words. So I got closer, careful with my footsteps so that no human ear would be able to make out my approach.

"… is my creation, not theirs. They want to take it away from me. All because of her. Well, I'll fix her. I'll make another Eidolon, another Alexandria. She's just another villain, another murderer, another monster in the dark. I'll—"

I'd heard enough. The voice was cracked with either disuse or overuse, but I suspected I knew who it was. Moving forward, I stepped around the corner. "Hi," I said. "So, I'm here about your extended auto warranty …"

Doctor Mother stared back at me.

Over the last year, it was obvious that her solitude had caused some switches to flip in her head, and not in a good way. Basic hygiene had gone by the wayside, as had the habit of changing clothes more than once a month, apparently. It seemed obsession over an impossible task had taken over. And from her ramblings, I knew exactly what that impossible task was.

"You!" she screeched. "You're her! You can't be here! Nobody can get here!"

"I can." It was self-evidently true. "You're talking about Doormaker and Clairvoyant, yeah? They got taken out of here, along with all the other victims of your little mad science fair. Depowered and living good lives now. Why didn't you go?" Maybe if I talked to her enough, reason would snap back into place.

"I hid!" She cackled in triumph. "I had food, and I had water, and I had my flesh garden! If I mix the right formula, I win and you lose!"

"The flesh garden is dead." It wasn't quite true, but it was close enough. With Ending's assistance, I knew how to push it the rest of the way. "How are you getting your victims?"

This was a serious question for me. Two hours ago, a fourteen-year-old boy had vanished from Brockton Bay. One hour ago, he'd been returned as a slavering, misshapen monster out for blood—my blood—and bearing a fresh Cauldron mark.

He'd had no idea how to use his powers, and I'd subdued him with relative ease. Then I fed him a power-erasure grape and turned him over to Amy and Riley to put back the way he'd been. After that, I picked up the gear I needed and set the coordinates for a place I'd been assured was long since abandoned.

"Had one subject!" She was gleeful now, riding the high of her cleverness. "Could pull and push people! Pull from your world, push back again!"

I sighed. One more broken victim of Cauldron to deal with. Once I put a stop to Doctor Mother's idiocy, Cauldron's legacy would be Ended, once and for all.

"Okay," I said as I moved toward her. "I'm going to take you to your 'subject', then you're both going—"

My threatscape flared as an attack came in from behind. I rolled out of the way, my long-coat flapping in the sudden breeze. Yup. Custodian, right on time.

Fighting Custodian would be different than any other conflict I'd taken part in. There were no vital organs to shoot or stab, no nerve points to hit just right. She could be Ended, but I lacked the tools. Still, that didn't mean I couldn't End her involvement.

Pushing up my sleeve, I typed commands into the teleporter as I ducked out of the way again. She was hard to evade, being able to fill an entire space the way a normal humanoid combatant couldn't, but I managed it for long enough. Then she had me spread-eagled against the wall, a constant gale blowing straight at me.

Doctor Mother came to stand in front of me, hands on her hips. "You'll do nothing. Don't you understand what you've done? You're in the hands of Cauldron now!"

"What Cauldron?" I asked, forcing my words out against the constant press of wind. "Alexandria is … doing her job, the way … she was supposed to. Legend … the same. Contessa … relaxing on a beach. There is no Cauldron … anymore. No need for you."

"Always will be a need!" Her eyes glittered with her convictions, and her hatred for me. "Cauldron is my life! We fight the monsters!"

"You are the monsters. Time to End this." I snapped my fingers.

The portal—one-way, so no takesie-backsies—formed right in front of me. Caught unawares, Custodian poured into it; an instant later, she was gone, to roam the uninhabited forests of some distant Earth until her life force gave out. I honestly didn't give a fuck.

Stepping forward as the portal cut out, I flexed my fingers and reached into my pocket. This next bit was going to be pure theatre, but that was the way Ending and I did business. Just because we had it all mapped out didn't mean we couldn't have fun with it.

"No!" She darted back and put a bench between us. "No! I'll stop you! I will!" A row of vials sat in a rack on the bench, each bearing a liquid of a different colour. She snatched the closest one, popped the cork, and raised it to her lips.

I brought my hand out of my pocket, holding a water pistol. Just as she opened her mouth to drink, the single squirt—bearing a solid dose of Riley's concoction—went in first. She was already committed, though, and swallowed the lot down, staring defiantly at me.

While she was still waiting for her powers to kick in (which they never would) I moved in smoothly and jabbed her under the breastbone in just the right place to semi-paralyse her diaphragm, just as I'd done with Madison, nearly fifteen months ago. She folded like a cheap coat.

I found her last 'subject' in a cage, ragged and hungry. It seemed she'd had to starve him to force his compliance. I put his power out of its misery with a grape, then dropped him through a portal to the front steps of the Brockton Bay General Hospital. It was a reasonable bet that someone there would have an idea what to do with him.

Doctor Mother went next, to the steps of the Parahuman Asylum. She wasn't a parahuman, but she definitely needed an asylum. Theoretically, I could've Ended her psychosis, but I really couldn't be bothered.

That done, I mentally cracked my knuckles and set to work destroying every single vial the last member of Cauldron had hoarded for herself. Then I headed for the chamber holding the flesh garden. It was time for Scion's partner to meet her final End, and of course I knew exactly how to achieve it.

<><>​

Friday, June 17, 2016

Houston, Texas

Paladin

Banking around the Monarch building, Theo came to a hover and brought out his big gun as he took in the sight of the oversized mecha tromping down Main St. "Paladin to Control, I have it in sight. It's just trashed the Mecom Fountain, and it's heading for the Museum of Fine Arts. Clearance to bring it down?"

"Paladin, you have clearance to fire. Be aware, there's an independent cape, Flare, headed your way."

"Copy that. Firing now." He lined up the targeting dot on the mecha's chest and pressed the trigger. The plasma cannon warbled its rising hum of imminent destruction, then a massive blast of white-hot energy erupted from the barrel and impacted with the mecha. It lurched, put off its stride, but didn't fall. Smoke started rising from his aim-point, but he was more concerned with the way a turret on his shoulder had swivelled to line up on him.

Abruptly, a glowing figure swept in from the side, bombarding the mech with spiralling blasts of energy. One after the other, the turret guns exploded, leaving the mech defenceless. Theo's visor darkened just enough to make out the thumb's up gesture the glowing feminine cape gave him as she passed by. "All yours!"

"Thank you!" he shouted back, and re-targeted the mecha. This time, when he hit it in the chest, something blew in there, and great gouts of black smoke started pouring out. The mecha jittered in place, then suddenly sat down in the ruins of the fountain it had just demolished. "Paladin to Control, mecha has been stopped. It's not going anywhere."

"Copy mecha has been stopped. Good work, Paladin."

"Wasn't just me. Credit Flare with a solid assist." He dropped to a lower hover, keeping an eye on the stricken Tinkertech machine in case there was an escape attempt.

Flare dropped down beside him. "Nice shooting," she said conversationally. "You nailed that bad boy but good."

But even over the noise of his boot jets, Theo's suspicions hardened into certainty. It wasn't impossible for two capes to have the same blast signature, but he knew that voice.

Turning to face her, he retracted just enough of his faceplate for just her to see him, and nobody else. "Thanks … Kayden."

Without his polarising lenses, she was just a solid white blur to him, but he could've sworn there was a dropped jaw in all that. "… Theo?"

He nodded, and brought his faceplate back down. "Long time no see." Emotions roiled inside him. There was so much he wanted to say to her, to scream at her, but now was not the time. "Can we talk? Later?"

Her head dropped slightly. "Yes. Later."

<><>​

Later

Empire Café

Kayden

As Theo sat down, Kayden noted how much he'd grown up and filled out in the last five years. She felt a twinge of guilt at not having been there for him during that time, but the threat hanging over her had never allowed her to have that indulgence. He did seem to have turned out alright, so she took some consolation from that.

"A little on the nose, don't you think?" Well, he certainly wasn't tiptoeing into the conversation. "Literally meeting in a place called the Empire."

"It was established long before Max's organisation." She tried hard not to sound defensive, but it crept through anyway. "Nothing political about it. Just good food."

"I'll take your word for it." Apparently meaning it, he began to peruse the menu.

She stood the silence for as long as she could, but she wasn't made of iron. "Theo … please. You asked me here to talk. Can we talk?"

He put down the menu again. "You left me. Ran out of town and … left me. To rattle around in that goddamned house and my memories of Max. Why?" She got the impression there was a lot more he wanted to say, but he was too polite to shout at her in public.

"I didn't have a choice." His snort of derision stung her, and she leaned forward. "I didn't. Atropos showed up in my apartment and told me that Max was dead and I had thirty minutes to be packed and heading out of town. And that if I stayed, I'd likely die." There'd been more to it than that, of course, but she was giving him the basic version. "If they already had his identity, the chances were that they were sending people to his house right then. I'm sorry, but I had to get Aster out of there. She was my priority. She's always been my priority."

He blinked, and some of the tension drained out of his shoulders. "… yeah, I guess she'd do that, wouldn't she?"

Something about the tone of his voice gave her the hint. "You've met her?"

"You could say that." He chuckled wryly. "We went on an adventure together, back when people were still stupid enough to attack her. She got us home safe and sound, but it was kinda fraught there for a bit."

"Ah." She clasped her hands over his and looked at him squarely. "Well, you've turned out to be a fine young man. And I see you're …" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "… a Tinker. Not what I'd expect, from your parentage."

"It's … a bit more complicated than that. I—" He cut himself off, raising one arm. "Hey, Aisha! Over here!"

Kayden frowned, looking around. She hadn't expected anyone else to be showing up. Who is this Aisha?

In the next moment, a young black woman darted between the tables and threw her arms around Theo. "Heyyyy, Theo!" she crowed. "Nicely done, big guy!" Planting a solid kiss on his cheek that strayed somewhat onto his mouth, she dragged a chair over to the table and plonked herself down before turning her attention to Kayden. "Who's your friend?"

"Aisha, this is Kayden, my stepmom from back when. Kayden, this is Aisha Laborn. She and her brother and cousin took me in." He could've stopped there, but there was a glint in his eye as he continued. "They're my family now."

Kayden stared, especially at the way Theo was holding Aisha's hand. Ah. "I, uh, I'm very pleased to meet you—"

"Waaiiiit a minute." Aisha pointed her free hand at Kayden. "I've heard that name. Theo told us all about you. Who you were married to. And what you did in your spare time."

"Theo. You didn't." Kayden stared at him, in the hope that this would turn out to be some elaborate prank.

"You left me behind!" Theo was being careful not to shout, but he was clearly having to work at it. "I thought I'd never see you again! They knew who Max was, and all the rest of it! So when they asked me … I told them!"

"Personally, I blame Riley." Aisha's expression suggested that she'd had nothing to do with it. "She just can't let something go."

"Uh huh." Theo rolled his eyes. "Right." He turned his attention back to Kayden. "Yes, you were nice to me. But you never stood up to him on my account, not once. Brian and Aisha and Riley took me in. They shared everything they had with me. Brian taught me how to fight. Aisha taught me how to braid hair. Riley taught me that everyone deserves a second chance. And that's why I'm sitting here, talking to you."

"And that's why he called me to come meet him here," Aisha added. "Basically, I'm a referee. Though I'm totes on his side."

Kayden took a deep breath, then let it out. God, Max would be fuming right now. Of course, he'd also be fuming that I'm living my best life with Aster.

What the hell do I care about how my long-dead asshole husband thinks?

"Okay, yes, I did all that." Her voice was low, but she kept her eyes on Aisha. Theo already knew all this. "I did a lot of things I regret now, to fit in, and it was easy to do it. To think of people as things. Of some people as less than others. I still struggle with it, sometimes."

"Struggling with it means it's still got a hold on you." Aisha's tone was dry, academic. "Or are you trying to say you're not really a Nazi anymore? Let me guess, you've got that 'one black friend' which means you aren't actually a racist?"

"No, I don't." Kayden grimaced. "I know some black people, but I wouldn't call them my friends. I guess … I've still got some of the old prejudices in me. Five years away from Max doesn't get rid of ten years with him. But I'm trying. I'm a hero here, now. A new identity, a new life. Does that count for anything?"

Aisha held up her hand, finger and thumb a fraction of an inch apart. "Little bit. But tell you what. I'm willing to be your one black friend if you're willing to keep working on it. Deal?"

Kayden frowned, realising that she was being thrown a lifeline in her relationship with Theo. "Why? What do you get out of it?"

"Because Theo still cares for you, duh." Reaching out, she slugged Theo on the shoulder. "And I care for the big lug. So Imma give you a chance to get back into his life, but on his terms." Raising her eyebrows, she extended her hand toward Kayden. "Okay?"

With the feeling that she was making a huge leap into the unknown, Kayden accepted her hand. "Okay. And thank you."

Aisha gave her a remarkably evil grin as they shook hands. "Oh, don't thank me yet."

<><>​

Decades Later …

Atropos

I drifted, between sleep and wakefulness. Memories washed through my mind, of times long past and days just gone by. Of the world gradually settling down and becoming a more gentle place, needing only a nudge or two from me here and there to make it work.

Other cities had followed the Brockton Bay example, to a greater or lesser degree, but we remained the shining star. With the new Cycle, shards working alongside humanity, the space program had begun anew. Parahumans couldn't venture too far from Earth before their powers failed, but humans riding in Dragon-designed ships could.

I'd married, raised a family, seen my children raise their own families. It had been a good life, and all due to an errant shard, dropped off as a prank to screw over Scion and his partner. Well, the other entity had succeeded beyond all expectations.

I opened my eyes, to see my family around my bed. My son Dan, named after his grandfather, now greying and bent himself. His son Brian, and finally my great-granddaughter Laura, just turned sixteen. Raising myself in my bed, I smiled at them. But there was one other who walked among them unseen: a tall skeleton, hooded, with a scythe.

I knew him well. For most of my life, I'd walked alongside Ending, sharing my views with him, as he shared his with me. Ours had been a profitable partnership, on both sides.

IT'S NEARLY TIME, he said, but in the glow of his eyes I saw a hint of regret.

I know, I know. You think I could spend this long with you, and not be aware when someone's due to go?

I raised my eyes to my family. "You've probably guessed why I wanted you here now." My voice was a little drier, a little raspier, than when I was a girl, but they all heard me. "I've reached the end of my path. But there's one more thing I've got to do. Laura?"

"Great grandma?" Laura came to my bedside. There were tear-streaks down her cheeks; I raised my hand and wiped one away with my thumb. She didn't look all that much like I had, back in the day, but my mind's eye insisted on telling me that anyway.

"I'm passing him on to you. Don't take any crap from him, okay? He might be a nigh-unbeatable power, but you're in the driver's seat." Taking her hand, I clasped it tightly. Goodbye. Help her keep us all safe.

YOU KNOW I WILL. For a moment I was back in the Shard Bar, clasping his bony hand in mine, then I was in my bed once more, and Ending had passed from me.

I saw the moment that Laura felt his presence for the first time, in the way that her eyes widened. "Whoa …"

It was amazing how unbearably light I felt at that moment, as though a decades-long burden, entirely unnoticed until now, had been lifted from my shoulders. "The costume is in my closet. It should fit you just fine …" My voice had faded to a whisper by the time I finished.

My sight was dimming now, and all I could feel was Laura's hand in mine. She squeezed, and I tried to squeeze back, but I had no strength left.

I felt my heartbeat slow and stop, and then Ending was gathering me in his arms.

LET'S GO.

Where to?

ETERNITY AWAITS.

And I went.



The END.

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path: A Christmas Reunion

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



Saturday, December 24, 2011

Brockton Bay Port Authority Terminal

Cherish



"I'm nervous."

Cherie felt Taylor's arm go around her in a side-hug. The contact comforted her more than she would've thought possible.

"Don't be." Taylor's voice held a certain amount of assurance. "He's not the same as you remember him being. Just like you aren't the same as he'll remember you being."

"Thanks." She tried to keep the shakes out of her voice. It wasn't even like she was cold; despite a chilly breeze sweeping the streets outside, the terminal was toasty warm. It had also been upgraded in the last six months, and was now able to easily handle the increased traffic flowing through it.

The bus pulled into the correct bay, and stopped with a chnkpssshhh of air brakes. After a few moments, passengers started getting off; Cherie watched them intently, hoping she would recognise her brother. It had been more than a year, after all, and a lifetime of experience and emotional growth had passed for her in that time. What if he didn't even get on the bus?

"He got on the bus." Again, Taylor's voice conveyed warm reassurance. Cherie didn't even bother wondering how the non-emotion-controller had known what she was thinking. That was just how Taylor rolled.

And then a slender teenager, made bulky by a coat and a backpack, stepped down off the bus. Cherie saw his curly black hair first, then his face. "There! That's him!"

"Well, let's go meet him then."

<><>​

Regent

Alec wasn't at all sure what to expect when he got off the bus. As he'd predicted, Lisa had gotten on his case about two days after the conversation with Cherie, and started nudging him toward taking the trip. In the end, she'd squared it with Rook (who seemed surprisingly okay with the idea), checked with Cherie that Atropos was okay with him coming, and even acquired the round-trip bus ticket for him.

He'd packed his own backpack, though. It wasn't like he was totally useless, and he could see the writing on the wall when it was lit up in neon lighting.

Most of the people from the bus were crowding around the luggage compartment, but he didn't need that. Manoeuvring clear of the crowd, he started looking around for—

"Jean-Paul!" A vision in Christmas colours, topped by a bright pink bobble-cap, came out of nowhere and planted herself in front of him. He recognised the face—kind of anyway, though the look of joy was foreign to him—and some of the hair peeking out from under the cap, but the rest of her clothing just did not compute. All cheery colours and normalcy. "It's so good to see you again!"

"Um." After a moment's reflection, he decided that probably wouldn't cut it, so he tried again. "Hi."

"Hi yourself, doofus!" She launched herself at him, and wrapped both arms around him. Fighting down a panic attack, he tried to figure out what was going on. He was being attacked. She was attacking him, wrestling with him, trying to capture him … oh.

She's hugging me. Why is she hugging me? Cherie doesn't hug.

"What are you doing?" he asked, somewhat muffled by her coat in his face. He knew what she was doing, but asking that seemed better than asking why?

"I'm hugging you." Well, there it was. Proof that his sister had been replaced by an overly exuberant clone dressed in Christmas-themed clothing. "It's what family does when they haven't seen each other in forever."

There was a very strong hint in there somewhere. Gradually, his arms crept around her, and he hugged her in return. It was an oddly comfortable feeling. Since 'dear old Dad' had taken a shard of candy heart to his real heart, Alec had been experiencing weird yet comforting feelings from time to time. Lisa had kindly explained that this was what people with normal emotions felt.

By unspoken mutual consent, the hug ended. Alec was reassured by the fact that other people were hugging here and there; he wasn't making an idiot out of himself. Though the tears that had built in his eyes unbidden were threatening to do that all by themselves.

He'd done some crying over the last nine months. Unlike the tears he'd shed in Chez Vasil, he usually felt better afterward.

Cherie either hadn't seen the tears or didn't care. "So hey, wanna meet my bestie and her dad?"

"Uh … sure?" From the grip she had on his hand, he wasn't going to be given a choice in the matter.

He was towed a short distance, fetching up in front of a tall skinny teenage girl wearing glasses and a cool expression; she had long black curly hair and was snappily dressed for the weather. Her father was a little taller, just as skinny, and also wore glasses. The aura of authority and assurance that radiated off both of them was almost palpable.

"Hi, I'm Taylor." The girl smiled and held out her hand. "It's nice to meet you. What would you prefer we call you, Alec or Jean-Paul?"

He tried not to gulp in terror as he shook her hand. Unless he was wildly misreading the situation here, he was now face to face with none other than Atropos, the girl who had single-handedly obliterated the stranglehold of crime on Brockton Bay, before casually destroying the Endbringers. Those slim hands had wielded razor-edged steel, and other weapons, in ways that made his bladder want to cut loose.

She had a pleasant smile.

"Um, I've kind of gotten used to 'Alec', if that's okay. 'Jean-Paul' has too many bad memories attached." It was weird to say, 'if that's okay' and mean it, but he'd been doing that more and more these days too.

"Sure." Atropos—Taylor—gave him a nod as firm as the handshake. "Welcome to Brockton Bay, Alec. It's good to meet you. This is my dad, Danny Hebert."

"Wait, the Danny Hebert?" Alec tried not to do a double-take. The face had been vaguely familiar, but the name was whispered at all levels of society, all through the region. What the Betterment Committee was doing with Brockton Bay was unprecedented, but the fact that the man at the forefront of the effort had managed to keep it on the straight and narrow for nearly a year now, despite the insane amounts of money pouring into the Committee's coffers, was virtually unheard of. "I've heard of you." He turned to Cherie. "You didn't tell me she was his daughter!"

Taylor chuckled. "Well, that's a first." Bizarrely, she didn't seem at all upset by the fact that Alec had put her father above her for a moment. He was still terrified of Atropos in the abstract, of course, but having met her face to face, she seemed … nice.

"It certainly is." Mr Hebert held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, son. Cherie has been a joy to have in our household, so you're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"Oh, I'll only be in town for a few days. The guys will be expecting me back." But the invitation still warmed him deep down in a way that he wasn't used to. He shook Mr Hebert's hand with a sense of mild unreality. This was the man who directed the disposition of literally billions of dollars on a monthly basis, and didn't even sport a diamond tie-pin, or a tie to pin it to.

"Well, let's make the most of it." Mr Hebert gestured toward Alec's backpack. "Is that all your luggage?"

"Yeah." Suddenly self-conscious, Alec shrugged the backpack strap a little higher onto his shoulder.

"Excellent." Taylor grinned. "Let's go."

They went.

<><>​

The ride in the car provided more eye-opening revelations for Alec. Danny Hebert's car, a mid-range model that was a few years old, was just as unprepossessing as his outward appearance had already suggested, but that was the least of it. Taylor sat in front, chatting with her father about the Christmas preparations around the city—apparently there was going to be a giant tree somewhere on the Boardwalk—but she also took the time to include Cherie in the conversation. The banter between the three of them was entirely outside of Alec's experience, especially as neither Taylor nor Mr Hebert squashed Cherie's opinions if they differed from theirs.

If that wasn't enough already, Alec soon had more to engage his sense of wonder. He'd thought he knew Brockton Bay reasonably well, but the streets they were driving down and the buildings they were passing by occasionally contrasted sharply with his memories of the place. One or two instances like this might have passed him by, but eventually he had to speak up.

"Excuse me," he said, cutting into a reminiscence between Taylor and Cherie of a Christmas party they'd attended with a friend of theirs called Ash, "but … when did all this renovation happen? It wasn't like this in January."

"Oh, it's been going on all year." Taylor's voice was cheerful. "The money from the Nine gave us the startup capital, and when the two billion from the Simurgh dropped into the account, they were able to start breaking ground. There'll be a little bit of a slowdown over Christmas and New Year's, with shifts cutting back to four hours but being paid for eight so they'll be able to spend more time with their families, but it's going to ramp back up to full speed on January second."

"What did Accord think of that?" Cherie sounded curious, though not worried.

Mr Hebert shrugged. "It was his idea."

"Wait." Alec had to speak up at that. "This is Accord, the guy from Boston who murders people for putting a comma out of place, right? That Accord? And you're working with him?"

Taylor turned her head so Alec could see her grin. "I made him an offer he couldn't refuse. The chance to plan out the rebuilding of Brockton Bay properly with an effectively unlimited budget. More persuasive than a gun to the back of the head."

"Oh, and she threw in half a million dollars." Cherie's grin was just as wide. "Of his own money. After she burned the rest, plus the drug shipment that came along with it."

After he got over his sheer shocked bogglement, Alec was still laughing when they pulled up at the house.

<><>​

Ten Minutes Later

Cherish

"I sleep down here, on the fold-out sofa." Cherie indicated the currently folded-away piece of furniture. "Funny thing, when I first started living here, they apologised over how lumpy it was, but I was totally fine with just having a bed of my own. But once Taylor wormed my birthday out of me, they bought a new one then, and it's tons more comfortable. You'll be sleeping on that inflatable mattress there. Don't worry, I've checked it out, and it's really comfy too."

She watched her brother blink and look around with the air of mild bewilderment that he'd worn since he got off the bus. The decorated tree in the corner drew the most incomprehension of all, which wasn't surprising. Christmas in the Vasil household had not exactly been a time of good cheer for all.

"And they don't mind me being here?" he asked at last, glancing around as he lowered his voice. He needn't have worried; Taylor was taking a shower upstairs, while Danny was on the phone in the kitchen.

"Hell, no." She gave him a quick side-hug, something she could tell he was still getting used to. "Taylor's been looking forward to it, and Danny's told me straight-out that he's happy with me or Taylor bringing friends over, so long as he gets a heads-up first."

"And he doesn't … try to tell you what to do?" It was easy to see how their father's controlling ways still loomed large in his mind.

"Nope." She tried to figure out how to explain it, then she remembered something. "He explained it to me like this. The big important stuff, like paying bills and going to school, he gets the final say. Middling important stuff, he might have an opinion, but he'll listen to my input. If I can convince him I really want it, he'll advance me the cash. And for minor stuff, like buying new sneakers, if I've already got the cash, he doesn't care. Also, I get an allowance, so I can buy stuff for myself."

"Jesus." He ran his hand through his hair. "So why are they even letting you live here? To me it looks like you're getting it all your own way. Wait, you aren't …" He gave her a sudden suspicious look.

"Haha, nope." She made a scissoring cut-off gesture with her hands. "Taylor made it clear on the first day that I'd die if I tried it. Besides, I don't need to. Taylor enjoys my company, and Danny likes having someone to be a dad for, when Taylor's off doing something extreme to some asshole somewhere."

Something about that seemed to strike him as being funny, because he chuckled. "Holy shit, I just got it."

"What?" He only chuckled again in response, so she poked him in the ribs. "What did you just get, doofus?"

"Don't you get it?" He spread his hands. "He's the guy who can point at a building and say, 'knock that down and rebuild it' , and it gets done. She's the terrifying assassin who can literally kill anyone. You're the token normal. The one who makes them feel normal."

Cherie blinked. "But … I've got powers too." Even as she protested, she could see the logic behind his words. The sheer scale of change that Atropos had caused with her powers in just a few short months dwarfed anything Cherie had ever done over the years she'd been a cape. "I've helped." And that's why she chose me. The revelation left her shaken.

Alec actually reached out and patted her on the head. "It's alright," he said soothingly, though his eyes (and musical accompaniment) were full of mischief. "We all know you're a big tough cape, sis. Honest."

That was when she tackled him onto the sofa and started tickling him mercilessly. He tried to fight back, but he was laughing too hard, both from the joke and from the tickling (which was also a first).

<><>​

Regent

Dinner was an enjoyable affair. Conversation was brisk and pleasant, jumping topics often and occasionally sparking mild arguments, enjoyed by all participants. And the food, served up by Taylor and Cherie, was really nice.

It seemed Cherie hadn't actually been joking about Mr Hebert being an 'impossible TV dad'. He didn't try to dominate the conversation, and even asked for Alec's input on a few subjects.

About halfway through, Taylor caught Alec's eye. "So, what do you think of the meal?" she asked, with a suspiciously expectant air.

Alec glanced at her, then at Mr Hebert, who gazed blandly back. "Uh … it's good. It's really good." Light dawned. "You cooked it, didn't you?"

Taylor grinned and shook her head. "Nope. All Cherie."

Alec blinked and looked down at his plate, then over at his sister, who blushed and dropped her eyes to her own plate. "Holy crap, you cooked this? That's amazing!"

She lifted her head at the praise, and gave him a shy smile. He could see the pride underneath. "Told you I was cooking real food."

"Damn." He took another bite. "I could definitely get used to this."

"She's putting together her own recipe book and everything," Taylor added. "When and if she ever decides to move out on her own, she'll be set for fixing her own meals."

Which is more than I can say. He gave Cherie an appraising look. "I've never said this to anyone before, family or otherwise, but I'm proud to be your brother."

"Awww. You're pretty cool, too." Cherie got up and went around to where he was sitting, then hugged him. This time, he didn't need any prompting to hug her back.

<><>​

Cherish

"You've got how many Christmas movies?" Alec started leafing through the stack. "I didn't even know they made more than one or two."

Cherie grinned at Taylor's raised eyebrow. "He's not kidding. Whenever there was a Christmas movie on, we never got to finish it, so we thought they were all part of the same few movies. I never did figure out the plotlines."

"Not altogether surprising." Taylor plucked one out of Alec's stack. "This one should do, for starters. Mom always loved it."

Alec frowned at the cover art. "Is that supposed to be a skeleton? And how is a nightmare fun?"

"Oooh, I haven't actually watched that one yet." Cherie headed over and sat on the sofa. "C'mon, Alec. If Taylor says it's good, that's good enough for me."

"Christmas Eve snacks coming out." Danny emerged from the kitchen with bowls of peanuts and candy on a tray. "Soda in the fridge for anyone who wants some." He handed out the bowls, then sat down in his armchair. "Let the entertainment commence."

Taylor slid the DVD into the machine, then sat down next to Cherie and claimed a bowl for herself. "Got tissues?" she asked Cherie in an undertone.

Cherie grinned and glanced sideways at her brother, who was sitting there oblivious. "Two packs."

<><>​

Regent

"What the heck was that?" Alec wiped his eyes and blew his nose again. Without even needing to be asked, Cherie handed him another tissue. Smugness radiated off her without even needing a use of her powers. "How can they make me feel so good about a love story between a stick figure and a stitched-together girl?"

"Christmas movies." Taylor handed him a cup of soda. "They'll punch you in the feels every time."

Cherie nodded gravely. "And we haven't even shown him The Princess Bride yet. Can we play that one next?"

Taylor glanced at Mr Hebert, who shrugged. As far as Alec could tell, he was okay with whatever movie they chose. The fact of actually having a choice still weirded Alec out. "Okay," Taylor agreed. "Princess Bride, then we'll finish off with the Grinch."

"Oooh." Cherie bounced up from the sofa. "I'll get more tissues."

Alec watched her as she left the living room. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"

Taylor gave him a deadpan look. "Mwahahaha."

<><>​

Christmas Day, 2011

Cherish

"Merry Christmas! Wake up, doofus!" Still pyjama-clad—because according to Taylor it was a long-standing Christmas tradition, and who was she to stand against tradition—Cherie dropped her weight hard on the edge of Alec's inflatable mattress, causing it to launch him a little way into the air. Fortunately, he was still on the mattress when he landed, but he did wake up while still airborne, and let out an undignified yelp on the way down again.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded, sitting up and glaring at her. "Where am … oh." He looked around, no doubt taking in the tinsel hanging here and there, and the Christmas tree in the corner. "It wasn't a dream, was it?"

"No, no, it wasn't. Come on, get up and get dressed. I wanna open my presents." Cherie knew damn well that on any other day of the year she could buy herself these very same gifts, but she'd never gotten Christmas presents before, and she wanted to savour the experience.

By the time Alec had grumbled his way back into the room after washing his face and getting dressed in the half-bath, Taylor and Danny were also making their way downstairs. Cherie had bacon and eggs started, which drew Alec into the kitchen to watch curiously. She put him to work setting the table and getting the orange juice out of the fridge. Amazingly enough, he did as he was asked; apparently, he could be domesticated too.

Breakfast was a fun affair, especially as Alec kept rehashing the high points of the movies they'd seen the previous night. Cherie caught Taylor and Danny sharing amused glances more than once, but they both liked the movies in question, and added their own favourite points. He also went for seconds with the eggs, because it seemed nobody where he was currently living could make them so good.

After breakfast was done, Taylor gathered the dishes and helped Cherie wash up, while Danny dried. Cherie caught chimes of disbelief from Alec, though they were a lot less strong than they had been the previous day. He appeared to be gradually coming around to the idea that not all fathers were created equal, and that some were a whole lot more bearable than the one they'd been inflicted with.

"So," said Danny as he hung up the towel. "Was there anything else we were going to do today, or should I just head into the office?" There was the hint of a grin on his face, the humour reflecting through in his musical accompaniment.

Taylor rolled her eyes. "You know damn well Cherie's been looking forward to this all year. So stop yanking her chain, and come and sit down with the rest of us." From her attitude and the tone of voice, she may as well have been the adult, not him, though Cherie could see how amused she was as well.

<><>​

Regent

They assembled in the living room; the sofa bed had been folded away, and the inflatable mattress deflated, so there was now room to carry three chairs into the living room. Taylor and Cherie and Alec set them up around the tree, while Mr Hebert moved the armchair a little closer. Once they were all seated, he gestured grandly to Alec. "It's usually Taylor who picks out the first present, being the youngest member of the household, but you're our guest so you can start us off today."

"Um." Alec blinked, feeling suddenly put on the spot. "Okay." Leaning forward, he reached out to the pile of brightly wrapped gifts and picked one out at random. The stuck-on label was hand-written but easy to read. "From Dad to Taylor." With a sense of total unreality, he handed the parcel over. "Here you go."

"Thanks, Alec. And thank you, Dad. My turn." Taylor grabbed a parcel and peered at it. "From me to Cherie. Here."

Alec couldn't have missed the expression of happiness on his sister's face if he'd been on the far side of the moon. "Thank you, Taylor. Um, my turn." She grabbed up a parcel, and her eyebrows rose slightly. "From Danny to Alec."

Wait, what? Alec stared at the parcel as Cherie handed it to him. "But you said you would …" There'd been no mention of more than one present for him. What's going on here?

"Merry Christmas, Alec." Mr Hebert gave him a measured nod. "Your turn."

And so the round-robin went, the number of parcels dwindling as they were meted out to their respective recipients. Alec found himself holding two more presents, one the promised gift from Cherie as well as another from Taylor. Holy shit, this is Christmas! I'm actually getting Christmas presents!

Once the pile was gone, as if by telepathic agreement, Taylor and Mr Hebert began to open their presents. Cherie and Alec shared a grin of mutual amazement and began pulling the paper off theirs as well. It was nice paper, too. Care had been taken in the wrapping.

Once the last bit of wrapping had been removed from the last present, Alec found himself the proud owner of a multitool that looked capable of disassembling a 747, a gift voucher for a major game outlet, and a Christmas-themed sweater. With a sense of unreality that just would not go away, he held the sweater up against himself, then looked across at Cherie as she did exactly the same thing with hers.

"Sorry they're on the ugly side." Taylor was holding one up as well. "It's kind of a thing with Christmas sweaters."

"Are you kidding?" Laughter bubbled up in Alec's throat. "This is the best day of my life."

"Well, you might want to put it on now." Taylor was tugging hers on over her head. "Cherie and I were going out to meet the guys on the Boardwalk, and we thought you'd like to come along."

From anyone else, that might have been construed as a casual comment. Alec had long since learned that Taylor didn't do 'casual'. Taking in Cherie's nod, he pulled his sweater on over his head; unsurprisingly, it fitted quite well.

<><>​

Cherish

It was a little breezy along the Boardwalk, and Cherie was glad of both the new sweater and the pink bobble-hat that Taylor had impulsively gifted her with on one of their expeditions to the Lord Street Market. She'd gotten Taylor a pin that read 'Evil, Mean, Wicked and Nasty' which Taylor had delightedly attached to her shirt. Taylor was wearing a dark grey woollen hat, while Alec had one that Danny had loaned him, in red and blue.

"Oh, hey, there they are." Taylor raised her arm and waved, and got an answering shout. Vicky Dallon got to them first, hugging Taylor and then Cherie with a broad grin. Cherie hadn't even known she was in town, but Christmas was supposed to bring families together, after all.

"Vicky, hi, wow." Taylor was laughing at the exuberant greeting. "I want you to meet—"

"Alec! Holy shit, it's you!" The call came from farther back in the group; a tall black teen forged his way through to end up in front of Alec.

Alec stared up at him. "Brian. Jeez, I haven't seen you since …" He trailed off and gave an embarrassed cough. "Since Lisa pulled that prank on you."

"Yeah, I know. What are you even doing back in town? Did she come too?" Brian looked around, worry in his musical accompaniment.

"Nah, she said she'd skip the migraine." Alec indicated Taylor. "My sister Cherie invited me. Taylor says it's okay."

"Ah. Hi, Taylor." Brian gave the tall brunette a polite smile. "Good to see you."

Taylor's grin was rather more genuine. "And you too, Brian. Where's—ah, there you are, Aisha! And Riley too, woo!"

As the two younger girls more or less threw themselves at Taylor for hugs, Cherie smirked at Brian. Taylor had unmasked to the Laborns, as well as Theo and everyone she'd gone on that wild ride into Scion's pocket dimension with, after the final reverberations of Scion's death and the End of the Endbringers had run their course in society. Most of them had taken it in their stride, but Brian just couldn't relax around her, even out of costume. Personally, Cherie found it hilarious.

"Hi." After disengaging from Taylor, Aisha planted herself in front of Alec. "I'm Aisha. Pretty sure you used to do crime with my big bro." Cherie read interest shading into intrigue in her musical accompaniment. Then Aisha reached out and dragged a chunky young man up beside her. "This here's Theo. He used to be Kaiser's son, but we taught him how to be a decent human being. Say hi to Alec, Theo."

Theo rolled his eyes and offered his hand to shake. "Hi, Alec. Pleased to meet you. Feel free to ignore Aisha. She means well, right up until she opens her mouth."

Theo had definitely gotten a lot more assertive in his time with the Laborns, Cherie had to admit. The bond he'd formed with Aisha, despite their snarky attitude with each other, was both deep and strong.

Alec shook Theo's hand with an answering grin, carefully ignoring Aisha's over-theatrical outraged jaw-drop. "Got it. Nice to meet you both. And trust me, I've got a friend who has the exact same problem. You learn to filter it out after a while."

As the two groups mingled into one, Cherie nodded to Vicky. "So, how's life treating you in the Windy City?"

"Good, good." Vicky smiled. "I've about patched up my difficulties with Gallant. Had to come back here to see Mom and Dad and the rest, though."

"Yeah, me and Taylor come and see the Rogues sometimes." Cherie tilted her head. "And I hear Crystal and the others are still a thing."

"Yeah." Vicky laughed out loud and shook her head. "That's so wild. I love it."

As they strolled off along the Boardwalk, with Alec getting to know the others, Cherie smiled as she took in the multiple harmonic chimes all around her. Christmas really was a nice time of year.

<><>​

Monday, December 26, 2011

Regent

When he'd first agreed to come to Brockton Bay, Alec had been worried about wearing out his welcome early, so he'd told Lisa to only book the ticket for a couple of days. Staring down the barrel of his return to the Red Hands, he was regretting his caution. But right now, there were goodbyes to be said.

He shook hands with Mr Hebert first. "Thanks for putting me up, and putting up with me. I really appreciate it."

"It was no problem at all, Alec." The older man's handshake was firm without being a knuckle-cruncher. "You're welcome to come back anytime."

As Mr Hebert stepped back, Alec turned to Taylor. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're nothing like what I expected. I've really enjoyed the last couple of days. Thank you." As he had with Mr Hebert, he held out his hand.

"Don't be silly." She stepped in past his hand, and gave him a firm hug. After a moment, he carefully returned it. "It's been nice. Thanks for actually showing up."

Once she let him go—holy shit, I just got hugged by Atropos—he was face to face with Cherie. This time, the hug was wordless and spontaneous on both sides. He held her tightly, not wanting to let go, but knowing he had to.

"I'll come back again," he promised. "Sometime soon."

"You better, you jerk, or I'll send Aisha to hunt you down and drag you back." She gave him an extra squeeze, then let him go. "And if you think Taylor's scary, Aisha works at it."

He had to glance at Taylor for that one. She gave a half shrug, and quirked one corner of her mouth. "Eh, it's true."

"Well, okay then." He gave them each a smile as he turned toward the bus. "See you again, soon."

Hitching the backpack—slightly fuller than it had been when he arrived—higher on his shoulder, he climbed on board the bus, then hurried to score a window seat where he could wave to them. Taylor spotted him first, of course; she waved back, followed by the other two.

As the bus began reversing out of the parking bay, he leaned against the window to catch one last glimpse of them, then relaxed back against his seat. It would be a long ride to get where he was going, but that was fine. Soon he'd be back with the Red Hands, doing what he did best.

And sometime later, he'd be coming back to Brockton Bay, to see Cherie again.

He couldn't wait.



End of A Christmas Reunion