Alea Iacta Est - a Worm AU Fanfic

[Ack]

This is an Alt!Power Taylor story. Canon diverges almost immediately ...

A/N: The title refers to Caesar's quote as he prepared to cross the Rubicon and enter Rome: "The die is cast".
A/N 2: 'Oracle' changed to 'Navigation Cluster' at suggestion of Biigoh

1) This story is set in the Wormverse, which is owned by Wildbow. Thanks for letting me use it.

2) I will follow canon as closely as I can. If I find something that canon does not cover, I will make stuff up. If canon then refutes me, I will revise. Do not bother me with fanon; corrections require citations.

3) I welcome criticism of my works, but if you tell me that something is wrong, I also expect an explanation of what is wrong, and a suggestion of how to fix it. Note that I do not promise to follow any given suggestion.


Index
Part One: Discovery
Part Two: Enlightenment
Part Three: Random Encounter Table
Part Four: Looking For Group
Part Five: Roll for Initiative
Part Six: The Plot Thickens
Part Seven: Sneak Attack
Part Eight: Boss Fight
Part Nine: Luck is in the Eye of the Beholder
Part Ten: New Pieces on the Board
Part Eleven: Critical Flail
Part Twelve: Cashing in a Diplomacy Check
Part Thirteen: Team Building Exercise
Part Fourteen: Turning the Tide
Part Fifteen: Initial Foray
Part Sixteen: Rolling High, Rolling Low
Part Seventeen: Speed Bump
Part Eighteen: Whack-a-Lung
Part Nineteen: Expanding the Team
Part Twenty: A Man With a Gun
Part Twenty-One: Backlash
Part Twenty-Two: Recruiting Assistance
Part 22.5: Extra Information
Part Twenty-Three: Juggling Chainsaws
Part Twenty-Four: Two-Pronged Defence
Part Twenty-Five: Preparations for Mayhem

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

A Worm AU Fanfic

The entity prepared the shards and sent them forth. The Administration shard would go to a leader of men, to be passed to a girl child near to him when the conflict around her became too much.

The Navigation Cluster shard also went to a man who gave other men orders. He also had a girl child close to him, surrounded by conflict, ripe for a trigger.

Thus seeded, they awaited final activation.


Part One: Discovery


"Merry Christmas, Taylor."

"Merry Christmas, Dad."

The rustle of tissue paper being unwrapped from gifts was loud in Taylor's ears; too loud. There was no other sound to compete; no happy chatter, no banter between ... between ...

Looking back, Taylor could mark the points when her family began to disintegrate. First was that terrible day, two and a half years before, when she learned that her mother was dead in a car accident. Emma had been her best friend then, as close as a sister. Her parents had taken Taylor in, until Danny had recovered enough to function. Taylor had still grieved, of course, sobbing into her pillow far into the night, but deep down there was the knowledge that Emma, her friend, her confidante, would always be there.

And then, she wasn't. Between one week and the next, while Taylor was at summer camp, Emma turned away from her. But the true nature of the betrayal only showed when they began high school; Emma joined forces with other girls to torment, to pester, to bully Taylor, until she didn't know which way to turn.

She lost the friend who was as close as a sister, then. A part of what she saw as her family, breaking away, distancing itself. And during school hours, returning to attack, to harass, to single her out and to hurt her with well-chosen barbs.

That first Christmas had been the worst, but at least Emma and her family had been there. On the next one, Alan Barnes had made excuses; the mutual Christmas get-together, tradition for so many years, vanished without a trace. Taylor had no doubt but that Emma had been behind it; perhaps she was uncomfortable with the idea, or perhaps she just wanted to deny Taylor even that level of happiness. Worse, Danny had barely noticed, caught up in his own troubles, when he wasn't remembering her mother, his wife. On what was supposed to be a day of jollity and togetherness, Taylor and Danny had been alone; the two of them certainly together, but still very much alone. Danny brooded, while Taylor was still trying to come to terms with what her best friend had become. Neither of them was in possession of the support, the emotional toolkit, that would have helped them accept it, assimilate it, put it behind them and move on.

And now it was Christmas once more, their second as just father and daughter, without wife and mother, without friends of whatever age. This year, they'd barely made the effort; a ratty tree in the corner, a couple of wrapped presents. Yes, it's Christmas, let's get it over with. No egg-nog, no Christmas carols. When the day was done, Danny would pack the tree up and store it back in the basement until next year; privately, Taylor doubted whether it would even make an appearance again.

She'd done her best to get him presents that she thought he'd like; a history of Brockton Bay and an antique-looking pocket watch. In return, she got a silver locket – while pretty, she couldn't wear it to school, or it would disappear, just as surely as her mother's flute had disappeared – and a detective novel that she'd already read. But she didn't want to hurt his feelings on this day of all days, so she put the locket on, and began to read the novel with every evidence of interest.

<><>​

"Remember how your mother used to decorate the house?"

Taylor looked up, a little confused; that had come out of nowhere. Danny was smiling a little sadly as he handled the pocket watch; perhaps it reminded him of quirky gifts from Christmases long gone. "Uh, I guess?"

He seemed to come to a conclusion. "This isn't the sort of Christmas we used to have, sitting around all gloomy. We can do better than this." Stowing the watch in his pocket, he stood up.

For a moment, she thought he was going to suggest decorating the house after all. This could be good, or it could be bad.

But he had something else in mind. "Want to get the photo albums down, look at the ghosts of our Christmases past?"

No. Say no. "Sure, Dad. That sounds like fun." Coward.

The next-but-last thing she wanted to do was trawl through the static, frozen memories, to recall moments painful in their emotional clarity. To happen across a candid shot of her mother – or worse, Emma – happy, smiling, laughing, unaware of the changed circumstances that three or four years would make.

But the very last thing she wanted to do was to hurt her father's feelings, and so she sat down with him, and they paged through the albums. Christmas decorations aplenty, a tree almost scraping the ceiling, weighed down with the tinsel that a younger Taylor, an Emma as yet innocent of betrayal, had competed to hang upon it. Silly expressions, funny hats, people wearing odd hand-knitted sweaters from obscure relatives; they all reminded her of days forever gone.

Tears welled in her eyes at the happiness that she had lost, that had been torn away or leached out of her life; not understanding, Danny put a comforting arm over her shoulders. "It's okay to cry, kiddo. I loved her too."

She couldn't explain; he wouldn't understand. Or worse; maybe he would. He might call Alan Barnes, demand retribution. She did not want this day to be spoiled even further with anger, recriminations. And besides, she's been easing up. Maybe she's lost interest.

<><>​

Later that night, she lay in bed, memories swirling around her. Memories of a mother who was gone, and a friend who may as well be; of a family torn apart by death and betrayal. She had trouble comprehending how thoroughly her life had gone downhill in less than three years.

If I knew then what I know now ... It was a familiar lament, but none the less true for it.

With that thought troubling her, she rolled over and sought elusive sleep. Eventually, she found it, or it found her.

Dreams came to her, dreams that she would never remember.

<><>​

Morning came, and with it, a strange obsession. She found herself flipping coins, silently calling the throws, getting it right, time after time. More; she needed more. "Dad, where are the board games?"

Danny looked up from where he was browsing the book that he had gotten her. "You want to play a board game?"

"No, I just want to get the dices."

An odd look. "It's 'dice'."

"Huh?"

"Singular is 'die', plural is 'dice'. What do you want them for?"

"It's hard to explain." It was more than that; it was literally impossible for her to say why she needed them; the explanation was on the tip of her tongue, but the words would not come to her. "I just need them."

A shrug, as he carefully marked his place in the book and put it down. "Let's go find them then."

She wanted to tell him why she needed the dice, but the words refused to form themselves, so instead she gestured back at the book. "You like it, Dad?"

He smiled and ruffled her hair. "It's pretty good, kiddo."

<><>​

The warm feeling from that lasted while they located the board games – some, rat-chewed, in the basement, while others resided in the closet in the spare room – and extracted the dice from those games that had them. The dice were of the standard type; six-sided, white with black dots. She weighed them in her hand, felt them moving around in her grasp.

Downstairs once more, Danny eyed the half-dozen dice she held. "So what are you going to do with those?"

She didn't answer, just threw them; they landed on the kitchen table. Every one turned up a single dot. Snake-eyes times three. Danny's jaw slowly dropped.

"How … how did you do that, kiddo?"

She shrugged, retrieving the dice. "I just do it."

"Can you do it again?"

"What would you like?"

"Uh … all sixes."

She threw; boxcars as far as the eye could see. She picked the dice up again.

"Okay, now from one to six."

Without apparent effort, she threw one more time. The dice were scattered on the table, but each one showed a different face. One through six. Danny pulled out a chair, sat down, staring at the dice. "Holy shit. You know what this means, kiddo?"

"That I could make a fortune at Vegas?"

He barked a short laugh. "Hah. No. They'd have people on the lookout for that exact thing. I doubt that you're the only person who's ever been able to influence the roll of a die. No, but this does mean that you're a parahuman. What you just did … that was virtually impossible. Three sets of six, each one called."

She drew out her own chair, sat down. The dice spilled from her hand, rolled into a circular formation. "Yeah, but I can't see being able to roll dice being a world-beating superpower. I can just see it; I go out in costume and challenge bad guys to best-of-three."

"Maybe it means that you're a telekinetic," he suggested. "Try it with something else."

A spoon lay near her hand; she concentrated on it. Nothing happened; she picked it up, dropped it. It bounced once, lay still.

Danny shrugged. "Something smaller?"

Toothpicks failed to bend to her will as well; as with dice, she could make them neither levitate from her hand nor move without her touching them. She could make them land wherever on the table she wanted, but that didn't promise to be very important.

They went back to the dice, ascertaining that she could indeed throw them, for whatever result she desired – to a point. They would land either showing the numbers she wanted or in the formation she wanted, but not both.

"Great," she declared at last. "I can totally cheat at Yahtzee. Wonderful." Morosely, she set a die to spinning on one corner.

Danny suddenly got up. "I'll be back in a second, kiddo."

"Okay." Taylor watched the die spin down. Six, she thought. It landed on a six.

Danny came thumping back downstairs with a cardboard box in his hands. "I haven't even looked at this stuff since your mother and I started going out, but you might be interested." Blowing the dust off of it, he lifted the lid.

Inside were pencils worn to a stub, three-by-five index cards with arcane scribblings on them, and folded sheets of paper. Underneath that, as Taylor lifted out the papers, were red books, softcover, with imaginative pictures of dragons on them. But she didn't have eyes for that; also scattered from one side of the box to the other were dice. Lots of dice. Dice of a sort that she had never seen before.

"Dad," she breathed. "What are they?"

<><>​

She sat with the odd-shaped polyhedrons before her in a row. The 'd-four' – Danny had explained the terminology to her – looked like a triangular pyramid while the d-six was the standard die, though these had numbers rather than pips. Then there was the d-eight, the d-ten, the d-twelve and the d-twenty. Each of them performed as readily the original dice she had gotten; the d-twenty rolled naturally off of her palm and ended up on whatever number she wanted.

But it was the d-tens that caught her attention. "Why do some of these have one number on each side, while others have two?"

So then he explained percentile dice to her; once she understood that zero-zero-zero equalled one hundred, while zero-zero-one equalled one, it all became clear. She rolled the percentiles, and each time, the number came out at whatever Danny called it.

And then she had a thought. "Dad, write the number down. Don't let me see it."

He did what she said; she rolled the dice. His number came up.

"Are you reading my mind?" His expression was a little concerned, not very much to her surprise. The only known 'real' telepath in the world was the Simurgh; to be associated with the angel-winged Endbringer in any significant way was a very bad thing. The upcoming trial of the parahuman singer known as Canary was proof positive of that.

"Not that I know of," she told him. "I was just thinking 'whatever number he wrote down'."

"You still could have read my mind and not consciously known it," he mused. "Okay, let's try something else." He tore out three pages from a notebook he found in the box. "Write a number on each of them, then fold them so I can't see. I'll mix them up so you don't know which one I've picked."

Duly, she wrote the numbers; 23, 54 and 71. Behind his back, Danny scrunched up each folded paper into a ball, then placed one on the table. Taylor rolled; the dice came up fifty-four. Carefully, Danny opened up the piece of paper. It was the one with 54 on it.

"Okay, that rules out telepathy," Danny noted with some relief. "So you're using clairvoyance?"

"I could still be using some sort of hyper-effective recognition," Taylor objected. "Really tiny patterns on the paper, even though I folded it and you crumpled it."

"Do you think you are?"

Taylor shrugged. "I don't know. It feels like I'm just throwing randomly; if I want the dice to roll one number or another, I get that number, but when I'm trying for an outside result, there's no actual answer in my mind until the dice land."

"Mm. Okay." Danny held out both hands, closed into fists. "What's in my right hand?"

She rolled the dice, and frowned at the result. "No, that's not right. I didn't write down a hundred."

Turning his hand over, Danny opened it; it was empty. "Not a hundred, kiddo," he pointed out. "Zero zero zero. The dice were telling you that there was nothing in my hand."

"Huh." Taylor eyed the dice. "They're smarter than they look."

"They certainly are." Danny handed her a third die, also a d-ten. "I'm going to try something. Roll the dice but don't let me see the result. I'm going to go and open that book you gave me at a random page."

She frowned. "How's that different from me writing the numbers down?"

"Just humour me, okay?"

"Okay." She picked up the dice. "Let me know when."

He entered the living room. "Okay!"

The dice clattered on the table; although they landed in a rough triangle, she had no trouble in reading the order; three two five. Covering them with her hand, she called out, "Okay, what did you get?"

He re-entered the kitchen with the book in his hands, unopened. As she watched, he closed his eyes, opened the book, riffled the pages, and put his finger on a page. Opening his eyes, he read off the page number. "Three hundred and twenty-five."

"Dad."

"Yes, Taylor?"

"You opened the book after I rolled."

He nodded. "Yes."

"The dice predicted what page you were going to open the book to."

This time, he shook his head. "No. You made the prediction. You just rolled the dice to get that number."

"But I didn't know what page number it was going to be, before I rolled!" she protested.

Reaching out, he tapped her on the top of the head, not hard. "You didn't. The part of you that knows how to roll dice to order ... that part did."

"That doesn't make sense," she complained.

"Legend can make lasers that go around corners and freeze water," he retorted. "Name one thing about super-powers that does make sense."

She stuck out her tongue at him.

<><>​

"Okay," he decided, some little time later. "Random page numbers are easily predictable by you. When I roll dice, you can roll exactly the same numbers before I roll. You're a precog, sure enough. But is that all you can predict?"

She frowned. "What are you getting at?"

"Simple." He gestured through the open door at the TV in the living room. "I'm going to go through there and turn on the weather channel. What's the temperature going to be?"

"I dunno," she responded, and rolled the dice. "Sixty-five." She frowned. "Does that sound right for you?"

"We'll see." He got up, and Taylor followed him into the living room, bringing the dice with her. Picking up the remote, he turned the TV on, then flicked it over to the appropriate channel.

"- and we've got a warm front moving up from the south, bringing the temperature up to a balmy sixty-five for today - "

On the screen, the weather announcer was gesturing to the state map, with '65' over the area of Brockton Bay. Danny switched the TV off again. "Well, looks like that works too."

Taylor stared at the dice in her palm. They looked so innocuous, so normal. But they allowed her to do things that she'd never been able to do before. And still, something was nudging at her.

"Percentiles."

"What?" Danny was looking at her.

"Percentiles. They can be used to determine the chance of something happening, right?"

"Uh, yes?" He blinked. "Holy crap, yes. Taylor, you're a genius."

"But how do we determine the actual percentage chance of something happening, so we can test this?" she asked practically.

He grinned. "By picking something we already know the percentage chance of first."

"And where can we find something like that?"

"You'll see." He led the way back into the kitchen. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a quarter. "Sit down and get ready to roll. Grab two more d-tens."

She did as she was told, cradling the four dice in her hand. "What am I predicting this time?"

"The chances of me getting heads every time if I flip this coin five times in a row." Taylor paused to try to calculate that in her head, and Danny clapped his hands. "Don't think, roll!"

Instinctively, she rolled the dice. Percentage chance of five heads in a row.

They tumbled across the table, and rolled to a halt. Three – she instinctively knew that there was a decimal point there – four five zero.

Danny was staring at the numbers. "Is that right?" she asked. "Is that what you expected?"

"No," he declared with a frown. "It's not. It should be three point one two five."

Taylor applied her mind to the math, and nodded. "Yeah," she agreed. "It should be … but … "

"But what?"

She pointed at the coin he was holding. "What if that coin wasn't absolutely true? It might have a marginal bias toward heads. That would throw things out, and give a higher number, right?"

He scratched his chin. "Huh. That could explain it. Okay. Percentage chance of getting heads on one flip of this coin."

She rolled the dice; they came up as fifty-one percent. "That look about right to you?"

"As close as we're going to get, I guess." He dropped the coin and picked up the d-twenty. "Odds of rolling this five times and getting evens every time."

Taylor rolled her dice. This time, they agreed with Danny's initial summation; three point one two five percent.

"Well, damn." Danny summed up their thoughts quite neatly. "You can predict the odds of something happening. To decimal point accuracy. That could be … "

"Scary." Taylor didn't even need to think about that. "Really scary."

Danny nodded. "We tell nobody."

Taylor agreed silently. It's not like I've got anyone to tell.

<><>​

That evening, Taylor sat cross-legged on her bed and stared at the innocuous-looking dice that lay in the palm of her hand. This is a lot of power, right here. Do I dare use it? What can I use it for?

Drawing a deep breath, she grabbed a magazine and laid it on her bed to make for a rolling surface. For a few moments she sat, eyes closed, as she tried to think of what questions to ask.

Will Emma ever be my friend again? Opening her eyes, she rolled the dice.

Five point one three four percent.

This time, the deep breath was more like a sigh. Well, it's not entirely unexpected.

She concentrated again. Chances that Emma and the others will leave me alone?

The dice left her hand, rolled on the magazine cover. One point zero one three percent.

And there's my answer for that.

She paused, eyes opening slightly as the possibilities finally clicked into focus. Wait a minute. Chances that they'll pull something on me before lunchtime.

The dice rolled across the magazine. Ninety-nine point nine six percent.

Shit. Fuck. Chances that it will happen before third period.

Ninety-nine point nine six percent.

Chances that it will happen before second period.

Ninety-nine point nine six percent.

She was starting to feel panicky. The same numbers kept cropping up on the dice.

Chances that it will happen before first period.

Ninety-nine point nine six percent.

Her heart was hammering now. How bad will the prank be, on a scale of one to one hundred?

This time, she rolled just the two dice. They came to a stop. Zero zero zero. One hundred. Fuck.

Leaving the dice where they were, she flopped back on the bed, letting her head fall on the pillow. Oh god. If I'm to believe this, they've got a prank set up to spring on me before first period on the third. And it'll be worse than everything else they've done.

What do I do?

Closing her eyes, she reviewed her school route. Bus. They don't ride on the bus with me. But they might. Or they could get someone else to. She opened her eyes and sat up. Chances that the prank will happen on the bus? She rolled the dice.

Zero point zero one zero percent chance.

Not the bus. Okay, at the school proper. Um … walking across the parking lot.

The dice rolled once more. Zero point one three nine percent chance.

Not the parking lot, then. She tried to think hard. Before first period … my locker?

She watched as the dice rolled off of her palm. For a moment she thought they were going to settle on to another low-probability number, but then they rolled into position.

Ninety-nine point nine six percent chance.

A chill settled around her heart. Fuck, they've done something to my locker.

Will this prank harm me? Surely not … But she rolled the dice anyway.

Forty-three point seven six percent chance.

Chances that there'll be something in my locker that I didn't put in there?

Ninety-nine point nine six percent.

<><>​

She picked up the dice and dropped the magazine on the floor, then lay back on the bed, thinking hard. Okay, they'll be putting something in my locker – or they've already done it – that's got a chance of harming me, and it'll be the worst prank that they've ever done to me. What the fuck do I do now? What can I do with this information?

Rolling over, she leaned over to look down at the floor. Chances that the prank will happen if I don't open my locker?

The dice rolled across the magazine. One point three zero four percent.

Okay, that would be good news if I didn't need my books.

Another point clicked into place. Chances that I can prove they did it?

Two point zero nine four percent.

She didn't like this next idea, but she had to know. Chances that I can prove they did it if I let them pull the prank on me?

Ten point six one percent.

Damn. Okay, good to know. No sacrificial play for me.

She thought about it for a moment. Chances of being transferred to Arcadia because of this?

The dice rolled to a stop. Seven point four nine three percent. Not great.

And then she had another thought, and she rolled the dice.

This time, she smiled when she saw the result.

Getting up, she put the dice carefully on her dresser, before switching off the light and climbing into bed.

I'm going to need to run some more numbers, but I think I can work this out.

<><>​

"Dad?"

Danny looked up from his perusal of an ancient yellowed set of rules. "Yeah?"

"I've been … using my power."

He put down the rules and looked at Taylor. They had decided to give one of the board games a whirl, now that they'd unearthed them – they'd picked a non dice based one, for obvious reasons – but Taylor's expression was more serious than normal. "And what did you find out?"

"Some pretty serious stuff." She took a deep breath. "I've been … getting bullied. At school. It's pretty bad. And it's going to get really bad when I go back."

"What?" He had trouble getting his head around this. "How? Kiddo, if you're having trouble, get Emma to back you up."

"I can't." Her expression was pained. "Emma's behind it."

The words didn't register for a moment, then he shook his head. "That can't be right. She's your best friend."

"Not since we started at Winslow, Dad." Her voice was dead level. "She's changed. She's a bitch, and she's been bullying me ever since."

"Fuck." It was starting to make sense; Taylor had been becoming more withdrawn, uncommunicative. Come to think of it, she hasn't been spending any time out of school with Emma …

Danny cursed himself for being a blind fool. "I'm going to call Alan right now and -"

But she was shaking her head. "No, Dad. That's got a less than nine percent chance of working."

"You've run the numbers?"

"I've run the numbers."

"So what can we do?"

She smiled.

<><>​

Principal Blackwell turned over the pages of the thick document, reading a line here and a line there. Finally, she put it down and looked at the man across the desk from her.

"Mr Hebert, this is potentially very serious."

He looked almost offended at the phrasing. "Potentially? Principal Blackwell, that, right there, is what has been happening to my daughter since September. And what she says has been happening to her for a year before that."

She cleared her throat. "What she says and what might have happened are two different things. I need proof to take action."

"Fine," he retorted; she could tell that he was less than thrilled, but he held his temper well. "What you've got there, does that constitute proof enough that she's being bullied?"

"It could," she allowed; in truth, it was dauntingly thick. "With an admission from one of the people named here, or eyewitness evidence from a third party, it could definitely be classed as such."

"So my daughter's word that she wrote down just what happened to her isn't enough?" he asked, allowing just an edge of sarcasm to colour his voice.

"Mr Hebert, bullying is a very serious matter," she replied. "As such, false accusations of bullying can get innocent people in deep trouble. And so we must investigate such allegations carefully before deciding punishment."

"What if Taylor didn't want the bullies punished?" he asked. "Just for her to be transferred to Arcadia?"

Carrie Blackwell was taken just a little aback. "I – there are procedures - "

"The Christmas break has just ended," he pointed out. "It won't interrupt her education."

"I'm not sure if I could support -"

" … or, you know, if it was proven that the staff of Winslow were criminally negligent in letting this go on, I think I could have the school sued pretty damn hard," he went on. "I have a friend in the media. We could get a guilty verdict before it ever gets to court."

She swallowed. "That's a serious threat."

"I'm serious about my daughter's safety." He met her eyes, and, weak chin or not, she flinched.

"I – we'd have to set up a meeting - "

He flicked a glance at his watch. She had noticed him doing this before, and had thought that he was anxious to get out of there. But he seemed in no hurry to end the meeting.

"Tell you what," he suggested easily. "Why don't you and me go and talk to Taylor? She should be getting in just about now. Maybe she can point out people to ask about whether this is all true."

Blackwell hesitated; his words, his actions, seemed almost rehearsed. But then, if it would get him out of her hair …

<><>​

Taylor swallowed and checked her watch. Almost go time. She climbed the front steps of Winslow and entered the main doors. Ahead lay the harsh fluorescent lighting, the classrooms, the bullies … her locker. Behind lay the parking lot, the bus stop … I could walk away now.

I can't. I need to make this work.

Resolutely, she moved forward. Her heightened state of awareness seemed to encompass everyone in the hallway. Moving, laughing, pushing, jostling. Ignoring her. Except for a select few. They didn't move as much as the others, and their attention was covertly on her. As she moved toward her locker, they moved as well, zeroing in on her through the crowd.

She pushed her hair back from her face, sneaking a glance at her watch. Almost …

Her locker was coming up; she let herself be jostled, losing a step. Moving around a couple of rowdy seniors, mumbling an apology that they never heard.

As she came closer to it, she could smell the reek; people were actually avoiding it. That it was her locker, she had no doubt. On a scale of one to a hundred … one hundred. Whatever the prank they were pulling was, it had to be horrendous to actually rate a forty percent chance of doing her harm.

What have they put in my locker? It had to be something pretty noxious; she hadn't been able to figure out how to narrow down the exact thing or substance. But just knowing it was bad was enough.

Out of the corner of her eye, only because she was looking, she could see Emma and Sophia. Madison was probably there as well. She paused at the edge of the empty area, took a deep breath of relatively clean air, held it. Stepped toward her locker. Bent over the combination lock, and fumbled with it. First number in place. Click. Second number in place. Click. Third number in place. Click. Fourth number. Click. The lock opened. She pulled the locker door open.

Reeking muck sludged out, on to her feet. She did not take a breath; even so, the smell assaulted her nostrils. It looked like … pads. Tampons. Used ones. Covered in bugs of all kinds. Crawling, buzzing, fluttering out.

Fuck, they went all-out.

She was expecting it, but even so, when the hand grasped her hair and shoved her toward the locker, the other hand in the small of her back, she was almost taken by surprise.

'Almost', however, was not enough.

Her arms were up, braced against the sides of the locker, and she shoved back, turned, turned her head, so that her assailant – Sophia Hess – was no longer pushing against her, but instead awkwardly pulling sideways. Sophia adjusted her balance, her teeth set, and shoved Taylor toward the locker again. Taylor, losing her footing due to the gunge on the floor, fought back, but it was a losing proposition -

- until the arm went around Sophia's neck from behind. The adult arm. Sophia was strong, for her age and size, but she had no chance against an angry father. Especially one with an unexpectedly strong arm locked around her throat from behind, lifting her off the ground. She was dragged back, the arm tight around her neck, unable to get her own footing. Taylor followed, left the suddenly increased radius of stench before she finally took a breath; even tainted, air never tasted so good.

"Mr Hebert, you can release Ms Hess now." Principal Blackwell had never looked so angry. She raised her voice in the sudden hush. "Ms Hess, Ms Barnes, Ms Clements, my office, immediately. Ms Hebert, you as well." Her eyes went to Taylor's feet. "Wash your shoes first, of course."

Taylor kicked her shoes off, then peeled off her tainted socks and left them there. The vinyl flooring was cold under her feet. "I think I'll just go barefoot."

"As you wish." She turned and started toward her office. Taylor followed, along with Danny; the other three girls trailed along behind. After a few paces, she took his hand; he squeezed it, hard.

Emma stepped past them, moved up alongside Principal Blackwell. "My father … "

"Will be contacted." Blackwell's voice was hard-edged. "And I will tell him exactly what I saw."

"But I didn't -"

"You were there," Blackwell snapped. "And you were watching. And you were not helping Ms Hebert. Now, be silent, or I will start handing out detentions."

Silence fell, until Danny cleared his throat.

"Yes, Mr Hebert?"

"When we get there, I would like you to call the police. This was a clear case of criminal assault."

"Surely we can keep this as a private matter … ?"

"No." Taylor's voice was firm. "If Dad thinks it can go to the cops, then by all means, call them. I'll testify against Sophia myself."

"I need to make a phone call." Taylor's head turned; it was Sophia speaking.

"No, you do not." Blackwell.

"Yes. I do."

What the hell? Taylor knew that she wouldn't talk to the principal like that, so why did Sophia think she could?

Blackwell stopped and turned. Held out her hand. "Your phone, Ms Hess. And yours, Ms Barnes. And yours too, Ms Clements. Now. I will make all the phone calls that I deem necessary."

"My social worker -" began Sophia.

"- will be contacted. As will your mother. And everyone's parents. And the police. And anyone else I need to call." Blackwell's voice was harsh. "Phones. Now."

Silently, the phones were handed over; Madison meekly, Emma hesitantly, and Sophia brimming with a rage that seemed only barely concealed.

They continued on to the office.

<><>​

"But surely we can reach some sort of arrangement -"

"Yes, we can, Mr Barnes. But not one that involves your daughter walking free and clear." Principal Blackwell's voice was adamant. "We won't be pressing criminal charges against her, not unless Ms Hess decides to name her as a co-conspirator, but she will be undergoing in-school detention until such time as we've either decided that she has been sufficiently punished for her indiscretions, or we decide that we no longer need her in this school." She gestured to where Madison sat silently, subdued, with her parents. "The same goes for Ms Clements."

Alan Barnes' hand came down hard on the conference room table; everyone jumped. "This is ridiculous! You're taking one girl's word against three?" He gestured to the stack of papers that sat before Blackwell. "That could have been concocted over the Christmas holidays. Taylor's been barely speaking to Emma recently. Maybe she decided to prank her. Maybe she decided that she was no longer Emma's friend."

"Shut up, Alan." Danny's head came up.

"Danny, keep out of this -"

Danny stood. "No, Alan. I won't. I wondered why you didn't want to spend Christmas with us. And the year before. But it was Emma, wasn't it? Didn't want to spend time with Taylor, her ex-best friend?"

"I, uh -" Alan's eyes cut to Emma, and he hesitated, for a fatal moment.

"Right." Danny's voice was cutting. He sat again. "Emma hasn't been associating with Taylor outside of school for more than a year. They used to sleep over all the time. Not since they started high school. Not since Emma met … that one." His voice was full of distaste as he looked toward Sophia.

Sophia returned the gaze venomously; she opened her mouth to retort, but the blonde social worker beside her murmured something, and she shut her mouth again.

"So this isn't just a one-time thing." Blackwell's voice was contemplative, as she looked down at the pages in front of her.

Alan Barnes tried again. "There's no way you can try and convict these girls on one person's say-so, and on the evidence of something that could be so easily faked."

"Mr Barnes." Blackwell's voice was hard-edged again. "The only trial and conviction will be of Sophia Hess. The police are on the way, to take her into custody. But as for these papers, I've checked Ms Hebert's email accounts; she's had seventeen of them filled up with horrific abuse since September of two thousand nine. This speaks to a protracted bullying campaign. These papers are not the primary evidence against your daughter and Ms Clements, but they are corroborative evidence; in short, they back up what Ms Hebert's been saying, and what I myself saw. That is, Sophia Hess trying her best to stuff Ms Hebert into her own locker, which was contaminated with toxic waste, and both Emma and Madison standing by, watching, with every evidence of enjoyment."

"But you can't prove that Emma had anything to do with -"

"No, I can't," Principal Blackwell replied. "Which is the only reason that she's not being charged as well. However." She tapped her finger beside the three phones that she had laid out on the table. "These will be handed in to the police as evidence. A court order should be able to get permission to open these phones for inspection, and any cross-talk referring to plans to bully Ms Hebert might just change matters." She leaned forward. "Mr Barnes, I suggest that you avail yourself of a good lawyer. You might just need one."

"I am a lawyer." His eyes locked with hers; the threat was implicit.

To her credit, she didn't blink. "Like I said, a good lawyer."

Her phone rang; not taking her eyes from Alan's, she answered it. "Yes?" A murmur. "All right. Send them in."

The door to the conference room opened, and two police officers entered, a man and a woman. Blackwell rose and rounded the table to meet them. "I'm Carrie Blackwell."

The male officer shook her hand. "Sergeant Lawrence. What's the exact situation here?"

Blackwell took a breath. "Well, you would have seen the mess in the hall?"

From the look on his face, Lawrence would have been happier not seeing it. "Yeah. We've got officers investigating it right now." His whole bearing suggested Better them than me.

"The locker belongs to that girl, Taylor Hebert. The mess was placed inside of it by a person or persons unknown. We have our suspicions, but no proof."

Lawrence nodded. "Understood. If that's the case, why have we been called in?"

Danny's voice was flat. "Because we caught that girl, Sophia Hess, trying to shove Taylor into the locker. Into the mess."

The female police officer spoke up. "They found a pair of shoes on the scene."

Taylor nodded. "Mine. I was that close to being pushed in, yes."

"And you're pressing charges against Sophia Hess?" Lawrence looked at Sophia.

"We are, yes, on behalf of the Heberts." Blackwell spoke firmly.

The female officer looked at Taylor. "You're willing to testify?"

"Oh god, yes." Taylor's voice was flat. "In a heartbeat."

"Good." The female officer moved over to where Sophia sat. "On your feet."

Reluctantly, Sophia stood.

"Your name is Sophia Hess?"

Even more reluctantly, she nodded.

"I'm going to take that as agreement. Sophia Hess, I'm placing you under arrest for aggravated assault, attempted deprivation of liberty, and suspicion of placing toxic waste in a public area." She pulled a card from her pocket. "You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right … "

<><>​

Taylor watched as Sophia was read her rights, and then led out the door. The social worker rose and followed; Sergeant Lawrence took the phones with him.

Blackwell turned to Alan Barnes. "Go. Take your daughter with you. She is suspended for the rest of the day, and begins in-school suspension tomorrow." She gestured toward Madison's family. "Her, too. Go. I just need to speak to the Heberts, now."

"This isn't over." Alan Barnes just had to have the last word.

"No, it isn't." Blackwell's tone was biting. "I may just have Emma charged as well."

Mrs Barnes – Zoe – tugged on Alan's arm, and they left, following the Clements', who had already gone. The door closed behind them.

Principal Blackwell turned to Danny. "Is that enough?"

"Not quite." Danny leaned forward. "I think this has proven that Winslow is an unsafe environment for my daughter."

"But Sophia is being charged – the other two are suspended - "

Danny nodded toward the pages before Blackwell. "I think you'll find that they were not the only ones. And being in in-school suspension means that they will have plenty of time to plan revenge. Taylor needs to leave Winslow."

"But – where will she go?"

Danny smiled grimly. "Arcadia, for preference."

"There's a waiting list -"

"I didn't want to do this," Danny told her quietly, "but when this hits the media, how would you like it spun? 'Beleaguered principal doing her best for her students'? Or 'Uncaring school administrator blind to the crimes of her students'? Because it can go either way."

Blackwell's expression was suddenly hunted. "This is extortion -"

"Let's put it this way," Taylor observed. "When Dad's media friend interviews me, I'll be able to give them some really good soundbites." She looked Principal Blackwell in the eye. "It's up to you how they go."

<><>​

"So you're going to Arcadia."

Taylor grinned. "I'm going to Arcadia."

"But first, we have to go to the precinct and give our statements."

"I'm fine with that."

Danny put his arm around his daughter's shoulders. "You worked all this out with your powers?"

"I did."

"Looks like they came in handy after all."

"Yeah." Taylor leaned against her father as they walked out through the corridors of Winslow. "They did."

I wonder what else I can do with them.


End of Part One

Part Two

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Two: Enlightenment

[A/N: Dinah's dialogue assisted by a friend of mine with teenage daughters.]

Dinah Alcott wished that her headache would go away. It lay across her brain like a malevolent kitten, digging in claws that felt like railroad spikes. Painkillers barely dented it; she could hardly eat, and she had to drag herself up the stairs to her room while the latest round of her parents' ongoing argument echoed from the living room.

Her parents had been fighting about stuff since Christmas, but she had only started getting the headaches since the yelling and slamming doors had begun happening. A couple of weeks ago, just after New Years', she had come downstairs to find her father sleeping – rather uncomfortably, it seemed – on the sofa. He had awakened at her startled gasp, and made a joke about 'camping out'. But she had gone to school terrified that when she got back, one of her parents would be gone forever.

I don't want that to happen.

The screaming downstairs was reaching a crescendo, and – wait for it – a door would be slammed, any moment SLAM now. She had heard these arguments so often that she could read the pattern, the flow, of them. It was as if she didn't even need to hear the words; she just knew what was coming next.

It's so stupid.

The thought bobbed up into her mind, and waited for her to notice it.

She frowned. Stupid how? Well, she knew it was stupid; she just didn't know how to fix it.

They're arguing about two different things, and they can't see it.

That revelation was enough to get her out of bed. Cautiously, she climbed out of bed and tottered out of her room, to the top of the stairs. Sitting down, she hugged the bannisters for support. Now, she could hear the words that were being shouted at each other.

She blinked; she could hear the words behind the words. The words that they weren't saying.

I know what's wrong.

I can fix this.

Carefully, she pulled herself to her feet, and stumbled downstairs. Her parents were in the living room, facing each other; they turned to look at her as she entered the room.

"Honey, what's up?" asked her mother. "Did we disturb you?"

"Of course you disturbed her, Anna," her father muttered gruffly. "Screeching like a banshee -"

"Mom," Dinah interrupted him. "Dad. I know why you're arguing. I know why you're mad at each other."

That brought a few seconds of pause, as the two adults looked at one another, then back at her.

"Sweetie, it's really complicated -" her father began.

"No, Dad, it's actually not," she interrupted him again. Looking at him, at her mother, she could see the network of what was going on. The stress patterns. The deep issues. The reasons. And she could see how to fix it. If only they would let her.

"Honey, it's late," decided her mother. "You should be in bed."

She stood her ground. "Why, so you two can keep arguing?" she asked, with a tremor in her voice. "Is this what you really want, that you get so mad that you can't stop?"

"We're pretty well there now," her father muttered.

Her mother shot him an angry look, then knelt down before her. "No, of course we don't, honey. We love each other, we really do. It's just that there are some things -"

"It's gonna be all over between you two if this keeps going," Dinah stated clearly. "You're not gonna be able to help yourselves. You'll start thinking about divorce. And that's the last thing I want."

Her mother hugged her; Dinah hugged her back. "Oh honey, we're not going to go that far."

"Oh, yes, you are," Dinah insisted. "But I know what's wrong, and if you're willing to listen to me, I can fix it."

Her father looked dubious, but said nothing. Her mother pulled back and looked at her carefully. "What do you mean, honey?"

"I mean that I can see what's happening to you," Dinah told her simply. "And excuse my French, but it's crap."

"You can ... see ... what's happening?"

Dinah nodded earnestly. "You think Dad's mad at you for spending your money, right?"

Anna Alcott nodded. "Well, that's part of it ... "

"Not even close." Dinah shook her head vigorously, her straight brown hair waving back and forth.

Her mother paused. "No?"

"Nope." Dinah pointed at her father. "He's mad because he thinks you like someone else."

Slowly, her mother turned to look at her father. " ... what?"

He shuffled his feet and looked a little embarrassed. "I don't really think that, but with all the new clothing you've been buying, and the new perfumes ..."

"You think I might be looking around?" Her mother's mouth opened in shock. "No. God, no. There's no-one but you. There's never been anyone but you."

"So why the new perfumes, the new hairstyles, the new clothes?"

She looked at him blankly, as if she were unable to figure out how he couldn't understand this.

Dinah went to her rescue. "For god's sake, it's for you, Dad. She wants to make herself look good for you."

"You look just fine as you are?" he ventured, frowning in puzzlement.

"So why haven't you been paying attention to me?" she burst out.

"What? Sure I've been paying attention." He looked almost indignant at that.

"No. You really haven't. You've been working late since mid December, and when you're home you're really distracted."

"No, I've been working extra hours to earn a bonus, so …" He trailed off.

His wife picked up on that immediately, of course. "So …?" she prompted.

Defeated, he slumped. "So I could take you away for a weekend on our anniversary."

"Which you missed," she snapped.

"Yeah." He sighed. "I got too caught up in stuff, and it happened before I was able to make arrangements. Sorry."

Her lips tightened. "That's not -" She stopped herself.

"That's not what?" he asked.

"Mom thinks that you're hiding something," Dinah supplied. "And she's not wrong, is she?"

They both looked at her, then at each other.

"Are you hiding something?" she asked.

"Sort of," he admitted. "But I didn't want it to come out like this."

"Like what?" When he didn't answer, she compressed her lips together. "I found a receipt in your pants pocket when I put it in the wash. It was from a jeweller's. What did you buy … and who was it for?"

"Why didn't you ask me when you found it?" he demanded.

"Because I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt!" she shouted.

"Mom! Dad!" Dinah's high voice rose over both of theirs. Again, they looked at her. "Dad, please, will you just shut up and give it to her?"

He took in a deep breath. "Right. Okay. One second." Turning, he vanished into his study. Moments later, he emerged with a box in his hand; a few inches wide by several inches long, it drew the attention by the fact that it lacked any sort of ostentation.

"I wanted to keep this for until we were doing better," he explained in a vague tone of apology. "Didn't want it to seem like a bribe to make you be happy." Running out of words, he handed the box over.

Carefully, she opened it; the first thing that came to her eye was a small card. Open, it read, To my dearest Anna. This is my apology for missing our anniversary. I promise that I'll do better next time.

Beneath it, glinting softly in the living room lights, was a necklace of intertwined gold and silver chains. Dinah's mother caught her breath as she stared at it. "Oh," she murmured. "Oh my."

He lifted it from the box. "Do you want me to put it on you?"

Her eyes lifted to his; they were soft, lacking the anger of moments before. Her lips slightly parted, she breathed, "Yes. Please."

As Anna turned her back to her husband, carefully sweeping her hair out of the way, Dinah backed out of the room and crept up the stairs. The rift between her parents was almost closed; the hurt would heal in time. They were willing to listen to each other now. They're willing to listen to each other. My job is done. Now, who should I send the bill to, and how many zeroes should I put on it?

As she settled back into bed, hugging her pillow and listening to the gentle murmur of her parents conversing downstairs, she realised that her headache was gone; it had vanished without a trace.

Mom and Dad are talking again, and I think I've got super-powers.

Best. Day. Ever.

She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

<><>​

"I want to do that!"

"Carly, you're doing the gluing."

"Because no-one else is gonna do it."

"Dinah, are you okay?"

Dinah opened her eyes at that; she realised that she'd been sitting back with her eyes closed and her fingers pressed into her temples. Blonde-haired Briony was looking at her with some concern. Behind Briony, she could see Xavier doodling on the corner of the piece of paper he was supposed to be cutting shapes out of, and Hank whispering something to Kayla to make her giggle. Carly, with a glue pot in one hand and a mutinous expression on her face, was staring daggers at Briony's back.

"Got a headache," she mumbled.

"Should I get Mrs Smith?"

Dinah shook her head. "Wouldn't help. But I think you might be doing it wrong."

"That's what I said!" Carly broke in. Dinah winced at her tone.

"You mean I don't know what I'm doing?" Briony retorted, her tone hurt.

"No, I mean that you've got the right idea, but there's a better way to do it." She waved her hand. "Everyone else is half done, and we're barely started."

"That's because me and Carly are the only ones who are doing anything," Briony retorted. "You've got a headache, Xavier's scribbling and Hank and Kayla are playing house over there."

Dinah took a deep breath. "Carly, I'll take over gluing, okay?"

"All right!" crowed Carly. "Scissors please!"

"No," Briony told her. "It's Xavier's job to do the cutting."

It was all so clear to Dinah now. "No, Carly's got smaller hands. She'll do a neater job. Xavier, you're good at drawing. Can you trace some shapes for Carly, then draw decorative designs on the bits you've already cut out?"

"Uh, sure," Xavier replied in surprise. "Briony?"

"Uh, yeah, that's a good idea," Briony belatedly agreed. She turned to Dinah and hissed, "I'm in charge of this project!"

"I know," Dinah told her at once. "My dad taught me about 'delegation'. It's how you get people to tell people to do stuff for you. You're just delegating me to do the job."

" … oh." Briony thought about that. "Delegation. Yeah, that sounds about right. So, how do we delegate Hank and Kayla to do stuff?"

"Well," Dinah replied, as if she hadn't already thought it through, "how about Kayla colours in the drawings that Xavier's making, and Hank sorts the pieces out, so that we know what goes where?"

Kayla had already perked up at the mention of colouring; Briony nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. So is there anything I can do?"

Dinah shrugged. "Uh … hold the pieces together so that I can glue it more easily?"

Briony smiled. "I can do that."

When Mrs Smith passed by their table a few moments later, everyone was busy; Carly was cutting out the shapes drawn for her by Xavier, who was busily decorating the pieces already cut out. Kayla was carefully shading in crayon work to enhance Xavier's line drawings of dragons and castles. Briony was helping Dinah attach the finished shapes, put in order by Hank, to each string in turn.

"Well, I am impressed, Briony," she murmured to the blonde. "I hadn't thought you were this organised before, but here you are."

"Thank you, ma'am," the girl replied. "It's all about delegation. Dinah told me about it."

"Well done, Dinah," praised Mrs Smith. "And you too, Briony. And the rest of you, too. It looks like you're really working together. I can't wait to see your finished piece."

As she walked off, Briony punched Dinah lightly on the shoulder; surprised, Dinah looked around to see the other girl grinning at her. "What?"

"She's right. We're all really working together. And it's all because you saw how we should do it."

Dinah ducked her head to hide a slight flush. "Dad says that a good boss knows when to delegate."

"Well, when I'm running the world, I know who I want working for me."

Dinah giggled. "Well, how about we finish making this mobile first?"

Briony rolled her eyes. "Details, details." But she picked up the next two pieces and held them together for Dinah to glue. "Say, isn't your headache bothering you?"

"Uh, no." Dinah blinked, a little surprised herself. "No, it's gone away."

"Good. I was wondering if you were faking it so you wouldn't have to play sports this afternoon."

"Faking it?" Dinah shook her head. "Uh, no. No, I'm fine."

"Good." Briony smiled. "I want you on my team. I like the way you think."

"Oh." Dinah looked at her, then nodded. "Okay."

And they went back to building the mobile.

<><>​

Briony was not happy, Dinah decided. It wasn't hard to figure out why; she had been counting on being picked as a team captain, but this hadn't happened. Instead, Samantha and Gretel had ended up as captains, and had commenced picking out their teams for the upcoming soccer game.

"Same team," murmured Briony from beside her. "Same team."

Dinah shrugged. "If I can," she agreed. It didn't really matter to her; she wasn't good at the game. Half the time, when she went to kick the ball, it just wasn't there.

Briony, being tall and reasonably athletic, was an early pick for Samantha's side. She trudged to her captain's group, and was handed the red cloth that she was supposed to tie around her arm to mark her as part of that team. Other girls were picked for each team; once she had the cloth tied properly, Briony began to talk insistently to Samantha, gesturing in Dinah's direction. Samantha, however, had other ideas, and picked out Kayla instead.

Gretel picked Carly, who grinned at Dinah as she departed for the team sporting the blue cloths.

Samantha picked Francine; Briony looked unhappy as Gretel cast her eye over the remainder of the girls. The ones who were actually good at sports had been taken; of the remainder, Jasmine was painfully thin and used an inhaler, Ingrid wore Coke-bottle glasses, Helen was more than a little overweight, and Dinah was … Dinah. Ordinary, average, everyday.

As Gretel opened her mouth, Dinah started coughing heavily, finishing off with a hawking sound that didn't actually bring anything up but sounded positively disgusting. Gretel closed her mouth and switched her gaze. "Helen," she called.

"Okay," Helen agreed, and trundled over. "I can't run much."

"That's all right," Gretel told her. "You can be the goalie."

"Okay."

Briony prodded Samantha and gestured toward Dinah again. Samantha looked her over dubiously; Dinah smiled slightly and nodded back. She needs to see confidence. After a long pause, Samantha called out, "Dinah."

Over she trotted; Briony slapped her on the shoulder, but she barely noticed. The team was standing around, some bored, some alert. She could, more than ever before, see the potential there. Each of them had strengths and weaknesses, some more obvious than others. She could see how to get them to work together, how to weld them into a cohesive whole.

If only they would let her.

<><>​

A few minutes before half-time, it wasn't going well. Jasmine and Ingrid, by general agreement, had been tapped to keep track of the score; Ms Hendricks was watching to ensure that the rules were adhered to, and that no fights broke out.

Samantha had a lot of enthusiasm, and was a fair soccer player herself, but she had trouble accepting that the others in her team lacked her skill and capabilities. Briony was good, and a few of the others also knew what they were doing, but for the most part, they seemed to be just blundering around the field, looking around for the ball.

Dinah's headache had returned in full force; as she watched the players run around the field, she could see how it could be made to work. Each player's capabilities were mapped out in full to her eye, both Samantha's side and Gretel's. She could see how Gretel was organising her players, the strengths and weaknesses in the opposing side's strategy. She knew how to break it; all she needed was the chance to do so. But each time she saw how it could be done, and didn't do anything about it, the pain increased yet again.

Talking to Samantha wouldn't help; she could see that. Their side was down four goals to nil already, and the bigger girl was not going to listen to guidance from her. Briony, however ...

"Briony," she gasped, finally catching up to the girl. "I can fix this. But I need your help."

Briony eyed her, then at where the ball was heading for their goal again. Samantha was urgently screaming and gesturing for her to intercept it. "Talk to Samantha," she told Dinah, then ran off. Dinah watched as she was body-blocked by two of Gretel's bigger players, allowing the ball to get past. By the time Dinah caught up with her, she was picking herself up off of the ground, and a yell from the opposing side signalled yet another goal. At the same time, Ms Hendricks blew her whistle to signal half-time.

"I can't," Dinah responded. "Samantha won't listen to me. But she'll listen to you."

"She didn't before," Briony stated flatly, as they started back toward their goal line.

"Try it now," Dinah urged her. "But say this to her ... "

She spoke, and Briony listened.

<><>​

"Okay, guys, we're being murdered out there," Samantha pointed out, pushing sweaty strands of hair back from her face. "Seriously, we need to stop slacking off and get into position, and kick the damn ball. Not just wave your feet in its general direction."

"We're doing our best," Francine protested. "Gretel's got her people all over us."

"Well, you're obviously not doing your best," Samantha shot back, "or we'd be winning."

"Uh, Samantha," Briony ventured before an argument could start. "I've been watching them, and I think I've got them figured out."

Samantha turned to her. "Okay, let's hear it. How do we beat them?"

"Okay, first off, we put Dinah in as goalie." Briony nodded to Dinah. "We all know she isn't that great out on the field."

Dinah shrugged. "It's true."

"Okay," Samantha agreed. "Dinah, you're goalie. It's not like you can do a worse job than Francine."

"Hey, I never asked to be goalie," Francine objected.

Dinah said nothing. To speak up now would do more harm than good, especially if she revealed that Francine had not tried at all to stop any of the goals. That Francine was deliberately letting the side down because of her friendship with some of the girls on Gretel's side. No-one would believe me. Better to just get her out of the goalie position, where she can do a lot less harm.

"So, you got any other ideas?" asked Samantha.

"Yeah, I got ideas for plays," Briony told her. She pointed at those girls who were best at handling the ball; this did not include Francine. "Come on, I'll fill you in."

"Hey, what do the rest of us do?" asked Francine.

"Get in the way of their players," Briony suggested.

"I'm still team captain," Samantha warned Briony as they walked off a little way with the picked players.

"Well, yeah," Briony agreed. "You're just delegating strategy to me."

Dinah waited with the others; she had explained it clearly enough to Briony that the other girl was able to impress on each of the others what her role was to be. It would be a rough and ready system, but she should be able to make a difference if she played it right.

"What's that all about?" complained Francine, gesturing to the group with Samantha and Briony. "What are they talking about?"

"Don't know, don't care," lied Dinah. She knew full well that if Francine was in that group, that she'd do her best to disrupt the instructions with questions and chatter. Which is why she's here, rather than there. She's a blue cloth in the red team. We're just gonna have to play around her.

All too soon, Ms Hendricks' whistle blew, and the team gathered together once more.

"Okay, team," Samantha addressed everyone. "You're clear on what we're gonna do?"

Serious nods greeted her; predictably, Francine spoke up. "What are you gonna do?"

Briony answered her, grinning broadly. "We're gonna win this game, that's what we're gonna do."

<><>​

With the kickoff, given that the blue team had scored the most recent goal, Samantha's team had the ball. She passed it immediately to Briony, then fell in before her, moving forward to prevent anyone from marking her. Just as a player slipped past Samantha toward Briony, the ball was passed sideways to where a flying wedge of three of the other players was waiting toward the edge of the field. They started moving fast up toward the blue goal, kicking the ball between them.

The players designated as cover started moving among the blue players, getting in their way and making it hard to get to the ones who had the ball. But Gretel saw what they were up to, and had a phalanx of her heftiest girls ready to come in hard.

Just as they were about to hit, one of the girls dropped back; Briony glanced back, Dinah gave her the hand signal, and Briony nodded to Samantha. Samantha called out, one of the girls kicked the ball backward just before they were overwhelmed by weight of numbers, and the third one out booted it sideways through the air. Samantha, waiting midfield, headed it forwards, to where Briony had run to; Briony trapped it, then kicked hard, lofting it into the blue team goal net, inches away from Helen's reaching fingers.

There was an instant of surprise, then shock, before the red team erupted with cheering. One goal to five wasn't a great score by any stretch, but it was a start. As the red team came walking back toward the midline, Gretel went over to her goalkeeper, and appeared to be having words with her. Briony sought out Dinah with her eyes and gave her a discreet thumbs-up.

Okay, they'll be looking for that one now. Let's hope the next one works as well as that did.

As the teams set up for the kick-off, Dinah read the blue team's intent, and figured out which play was best needed. When Briony looked around at her, she made a great show of scratching her right ear; Briony nodded, then turned to Samantha. Samantha gave orders, and some of the team members started fading backward toward the goal line.

The play worked almost perfectly, with red team players frustrating the blue team's attempts to come downfield. It would have worked perfectly, except that Francine, running right instead of left, 'accidentally' blundered in front of Samantha, just before the team captain would have booted the ball back upfield. Dinah pursed her lips as the ball got through the red defence at last and came blasting downfield, with the blue team thundering after it. Again, she read their intent, and figured out a play to beat it. Fortunately, it was one of a few simple patterns that she had communicated to Briony. She rubbed her nose vigorously as the ball came closer and closer; then, she had no time at all.

Gretel was coming in for the kick; it looked to be a smash into the slightly larger section of net to Dinah's right. But Dinah's power read the deception loud and clear; Gretel was going to double-step and kick with her other foot. She held until Gretel was committed, then moved left; the ball left the toe of the blue captain's boot, and flew straight into her hands. She threw it back again, over the heads of the closest blue players, to where Briony was waiting. Samantha, alerted by her friend, took it from there; between her and Briony, they shepherded it most of the way up the field before the blue team even caught up with them. Even without Dinah's direction, they pulled off a feint-and-kick that put another goal on the scoreboard for the red team. Dinah found herself yelling shrilly, pumping her fists in the air. They scored that time, and I didn't even have to help them!

<><>​

The red team were grinning like maniacs as they came back to the midline for the kickoff once more; Gretel's teammates were looking somewhat more grim. Two goals to five was a little more substantial than one goal to five. They still didn't consider that they were going to lose, but it looked like they were in for a fight.

This time, Gretel had a different strategy in mind, and Dinah alerted Briony accordingly. Samantha had severe words with Francine about getting in her way; the girl slunk off to her allotted place with more than one glare back at the red captain.

With the kickoff, Gretel's team came blasting through in a bull-rush, intended to overwhelm the defences of the red team. But Dinah had planned for that; she barely had to give Briony any direction at all, as she and Samantha coordinated a response that saw the ball taken away from the blue team when it was barely five yards from the red goal. Back upfield it went, back and forth between the red players, who were really starting to hit their stride now. It nearly fell prey to an interception near the blue goal, but Samantha bulled her way through and nailed another goal that bounced off the top bar and ended up in the rear net.

Back to the midline they went once more; as the blue team was assembling, and Dinah was studying them to figure out their next play, she was startled when Francine planted herself directly in front of the goal area. Directly in front of Dinah, to be more precise.

Dinah read her intent immediately; she wanted to block Dinah's view of where the ball was, under the pretext of 'covering the goal area'. Which also blocked her view of what was going to happen, so she couldn't clue Briony in on what play to use.

"Francine, get out of the way. I need to see what's going on."

"No, I'm good right here." Francine threw her a snarky grin. "Just think of me as a second goalie."

Dinah moved to the right; Francine moved that way as well. "Francine, I need to see."

"Give it a rest," Francine told her. "Just because you fluked a catch doesn't make you Goalie of the Year."

Dinah was getting desperate. The kickoff had gone, and the mob was stampeding toward the goal line, and she couldn't see, couldn't formulate a play. Taking a chance, she darted forward, past Francine and out of the goal area, so that she could see what was happening.

It was bad, but it wasn't totally lost. Gretel was being strategic, but Briony was thinking on her feet and coordinating with Samantha. The ball was getting close, but -

"For crap's sake, if you're gonna be the goalie, get in the goal area!" Francine grabbed Dinah and almost threw her backward; Dinah stumbled and caught herself on the rear net.

At that moment, Samantha yelled out, "Francine! Stop that ball!"

Francine looked around at the sound of her name, and Dinah lurched to the side; the ball was in free flight, heading for the goal area. Francine ran toward it, intending to kick it not away from the goal area, but into it. And kick it she did; right into Dinah's arms once more.

She threw it back out again, right to the point where Samantha's boot was ready and waiting. Briony barely needed the signal for the play, and the ball was heading up-field once more. Gretel's team was all out of place, and once again, the red team romped in a win. As they came back once more for the kickoff, Dinah took a chance; she pointed at Francine, who hadn't strayed much away from the goal line. Catching Briony's eye, she drew her finger briefly across her throat.

As the team got ready for the kickoff, Briony spoke to Samantha. Samantha listened, shook her head. Briony spoke again, more urgently. Eventually, Samantha nodded, and spoke to Francine. The girl wanted to argue, but Samantha pointed firmly at the side of the field. Reluctantly, Francine trudged off, and the underweight team prepared once more for the kickoff.

<><>​

Even down a player, the game result was no longer in doubt. Red team scored two more goals in style; a last-ditch effort by Gretel's team to force a tie was foiled at the last moment by a concerted play by both Samantha and Briony. Just as it looked like the blue team was going to try again, the whistle blew for full time.

"Well, that was some inspired play," Ms Hendricks announced as she strolled on to the field. "Samantha, your first half was pretty lacklustre, but you certainly pulled it together in the second. What changed?"

Samantha scratched her head. "I think it was Dinah," she announced. Dinah froze; she hadn't thought anyone had realised what she was doing, apart from Briony. She studied the girl; no, she didn't know either. So what does she mean?

"What do you mean? The way she saved those goals?" Ms Hendricks studied Dinah. "I have to admit, you were pretty good there."

"Well, it certainly helped," Samantha noted. "If she'd let them through, we'd still be behind."

"See, I told you she was good luck," Briony told her team captain, putting her arm around Dinah's shoulders and squeezing.

"Yeah well, I should've listened earlier," Samantha agreed. She put her hand on Dinah's shoulder. "You did good out there. Briony did the right thing, putting you in as goalie."

Dinah ducked her head and shrugged. "It was easier than it looked."

"Yeah well." Samantha mussed Dinah's hair playfully. "You can play on my team any time."

"Come on!" Briony grabbed Dinah's hand. "Race you to the showers!"

As they pounded up the path toward the school buildings, Dinah felt a warm glow of pride. My power helped win that game.

I wonder what else it can do?


End of Part Two

[A/N 2: Dinah has the QA shard. Once she has a goal in mind, she can assess the motivations and capabilities of people, as regards the goal at hand, and she knows how to integrate them into a team best suited for reaching that goal.]

Part Three

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Three: Random Encounter Table


"So, you ready for your first day at Arcadia, kiddo?"

"Eh," Taylor murmured. "It's no big deal." This was a blatant lie; she was trying to lean back casually in her chair, but one of her feet kept kicking the chair leg repeatedly. Danny noted that she'd hardly touched her breakfast.

"You do realise that it's still school." His tone was gently teasing.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Dad, I know. But it won't have Emma or Madison or Sophia there. I'll have half a chance to get my schoolwork done, and my homework finished on time."

"Do you foresee any problems?"

"Nope." Sitting up and digging into her inside jacket pocket, she produced a small cloth drawstring bag. She'd sat up for more than an hour, carefully hand-sewing it to a design she had found online. Pulling the drawstring open, she poured several dice out on to her hand. "I ran the numbers, and there's less than five percent chance of anything happening before lunch, and less than ten percent for the whole day."

"Were you going to take them to school with you?" he asked, amused, nodding toward the dice.

"Uh, sure?" she replied. "I mean, it's okay, isn't it?"

"Well, you don't want to lose them," he pointed out, "and in my day only gamer geeks took dice to school."

"What, like Über and L33t?" she asked, puzzled. "Why would they carry dice?"

He chuckled. "No, I mean gamers as in the roleplaying games that I had in the box. We used to bring our character sheets to school so we could play during recess."

"Huh. Okay. Well, I don't know anyone like that."

"Going to a new school, kiddo. There might actually be people who play the dice games there; you never know."

"I wonder if they'd let me sit in?" she mused.

He snorted. "Right up until you rolled your sixth natural twenty in a row, sure."

"But I wouldn't cheat like that!" She must have seen his amused expression, because hers became indignant. "Well, I wouldn't!"

"Kiddo, when you get right into a game, the morality of 'do I cheat or not' becomes more about 'can I roll high enough to hit that werebear or not'. There's people who would cheat straight off the bat without even thinking about it; I'm pleased that you're at least understanding how bad it is. But don't underestimate the temptation of rolling your dice just a little higher in the middle of a pitched battle."

She was frowning at him now. "Werebears? Really?"

"Yeah, you know how I found out what they were in the game?" Time for the oldest joke in the book.

"How?"

"Oh, well, we were walking along and we ran into a bunch of them. So we asked them what they were. And they said, 'we're bears'."

It took her a second or so to get it, then she rolled her eyes and groaned. "Dad. That's worse than your usual jokes."

"Trust me, you'll run into worse than that." He shrugged. "Mind you, there might not be anyone who plays those sorts of games at Arcadia. And they might not even allow that sort of thing at the school."

"Let's find out." She sorted the dice out, dropping most of them back into the bag. Three were left sitting on her palm, all ten-siders. "Okay, chances that I'll encounter someone there who plays these sorts of games." The dice rolled off of her palm, and clattered on to the table.

"Taylor, I really don't think -"

"And that's a seventy-eight point three percent chance."

He blinked. The dice were indeed showing a seven, an eight and a three. "You sure it's in that order?"

"When you get in the car, are you sure you know which is the brake and which is the accelerator?"

"I … okay, you're sure. But it might still be against the rules."

She scooped the dice up. "Chances that we'd get in trouble for playing games like that in school?"

Once more, the plastic polyhedrons rattled across the tabletop. One, seven and five.

"I can't even guess at that one," he admitted.

"Five point one seven percent chance," she clarified.

"Oh. Right. I'm guessing that's for if you keep playing once lunch break is over, or try to sneak in a bit of gaming in class."

"I'd never do that!" She managed to look even more shocked than at the suggestion that she might cheat.

He was inclined to believe her; after all, she was smart and conscientious. But he'd known others like that too. "Don't assume that the temptation wouldn't be there. Playing RPGs is fun, a lot of fun. You've got a whole peer group who's enjoying it along with you. And the temptation to push the boundaries just a little bit would indeed be there." He pointed at her dice-bag. "Just remember what you've got to lose. For anyone else, those are just dice. For you, they're quite a bit more."

Soberly, she nodded. "Okay, Dad. I'll remember."

"Good." He glanced at the clock. "It's just about time to go. I'll take you in today; once we've got the bus schedule worked out, you can go in yourself."

"Okay, thanks, Dad." She stood and slung her backpack over her shoulder. It was about half-full; most of the books she needed would be waiting for her when she got to Arcadia.

"Oh, and check the mailbox on the way out, will you? I'm waiting on some progress reports."

"Okay, Dad." She trotted out through the front door, pulling it closed behind her. Skipping over the rotten step, she headed down to the mailbox. A few letters, and a card from the post office. She was puzzling over the latter when she got into the car.

"What have you got there, kiddo?"

"Not sure." She handed it over. "Were we waiting on a parcel?"

"Oh, right." He looked it over, then tucked it into his pocket. "I know what this is. I'll pick it up this afternoon."

"So what is it?"

He grinned. "You'll see."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "You're no fun."

"Hey, even if you're able to tell the future with dice, there should still be some surprises left, right?"

"So it's something for me?"

He started the car and pulled it out of the driveway. "Mayyybe."

"It's something for me, isn't it?"

"Refer to previous answer." He was grinning broadly now.

"Come on, tell me."

"Mmmmnope."

"You're mean and horrible and I hate you."

"And I'm still not going to tell you."

"I'll use puppy-dog eyes on you."

"Those haven't worked since you were eight."

"I'll roll the dice and find out."

"Good luck with that." By now he was chuckling.

"I'll report you to my union rep."

He laughed so hard that he nearly missed the next turn.

<><>​

They bantered back and forth all the way to Arcadia; by the time they got there, she wasn't even really trying to find out any more. It was just a fun way to pass the time, which they were both rather enjoying. He pulled up outside the front gates of the school, and turned to her. "You okay to find your way home, kiddo?"

"I should be, Dad," she agreed. "Don't forget to pick up that parcel."

"Eh." He gestured carelessly. "I might leave it a few days. It can't be that important."

"Da-ad. Seriously?"

"Nope, not seriously." He chuckled. "But the look on your face."

She stuck out her tongue at him, and climbed out of the car. "See you this afternoon."

"See you then." She closed the door; he drove off. Re-settling her backpack on her shoulders, she turned and walked in through the gates of Arcadia.

It was a large school, for all that it held less students than Winslow. From the map she had gotten, it was shaped roughly like the letter 'H', with four wings extending from a central bar. She wasn't quite sure what was between the wings on the other end of the 'H', but on this end there were trees, lunch tables, a couple of basketball hoops and the staff parking lot. She recalled the administration area as being in the middle bar between the wings; hopefully if she went there, someone could tell her where she was supposed to be.

Other students were already wandering around, despite the fact that she was supposed to be early. Don't want to make a bad impression on my first day. She got the odd curious look, but there wasn't the hostility that she was used to; given that it was part way through the school year, a new face would be a source of interest rather than dislike. Also, Emma doesn't attend here. Which makes it a thousand percent better already.

"Hey, get that, would you?"

Jerked abruptly out of her reverie by the shout, she became aware that she had been walking past a group where several guys – plus a couple of girls – had been shooting hoops. They were all looking at her now, as their ball bounced in her direction. Instinctively, she caught it, and walked back toward the group with it. Bouncing it experimentally on the ground a few times, she got a feel for it.

"Hey," greeted one of the guys. "Thanks. You're new around here?" He was a little taller than her, with dark-blond tousled hair. Almost immediately, she picked him as a jock; he was wearing a singlet and shorts, which did little to disguise the sheen of sweat over his muscular torso.

"Uh, yeah," she replied after a moment, jerking her eyes away from his chest. A couple of the guys, and one of the girls, chuckled. Oh god, and here I was worried about making a bad impression. "Taylor. Taylor's my name. I'm new here." She bounced the ball on the ground again, just to draw attention from the blush that she could feel creeping over her cheeks.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Taylor," the guy replied cheerfully. He probably gets that all the time. "I'm Rob. That's Nick, Carlos, Kelly, Dean, Sasha and Bernice." He gestured at the ball. "You play much? You've got the height for it."

"No, uh, I've never been much for sports." Her face heated even more. Stop it! "I'm not all that fit."

"Well, you want to have a shot?" He pointed at the hoop. "If you want, you can come a bit closer."

I wonder. "I, uh, okay. But I've never done this before."

Hefting the ball, she threw it. It flew through the air on the arc that she had designated, bounced off the backboard, ran around the hoop once, then fell through. In the silence that followed, punctuated only by the sound of the ball bouncing on the ground, she fancied that she could hear jaws dropping in the entire group.

Rob was the first to speak. "Holy crap. That's the best case of beginner's luck I ever saw."

"Wow, that was pretty good."

"Good, hell, that was awesome!"

"Come on, see if you can do it again!"

The others were now crowding around her, offering their congratulations and patting her on the shoulders. She felt nervous; every other time she had been surrounded like this, it had turned out badly for her. "I, uh, I've got to get to the office. It's my first day."

"That's probably a good idea," Carlos noted; he was a solidly-built Hispanic boy. "So, Taylor, what year are you in? Junior?"

"Sophomore," she corrected him.

"Huh. You're tall for it. Well, nice meeting you." He offered his hand; she shook it.

"Thanks," she replied. "I'd stick around, but I've really got to get going."

"Feel free to join in any time we're shooting hoops," Kelly offered. "Even if that was beginner's luck, you've got an eye for it. I can tell."

"Yeah, okay, I'll think about it," she temporised, and made her escape. As she headed for the office, she heard the sound of the ball rebounding off of the backboard once more. An eye for it, hah. I've got a whole power for it.

But it had felt good, really good, to make the ball go where she wanted it. She had an idea what Dad had meant now, the temptation to make herself look just a little better in the eyes of others.

That she could shoot hoops with the best of them, she had no doubt now. She wasn't fit enough to play a full game yet, but she was pretty certain that she could put the ball through the hoop from anywhere she could reach it. Of course, she couldn't join a basketball team; she could imagine her father's reaction if she did that. They'd both know that every time she scored a hoop, she would be cheating with her power.

No. I'd better just pass it off as a fluke. Next time I do that, I need to miss.

<><>​

"Hello, Taylor," the principal greeted her. "It's always good to meet a new face. But can you tell me something?"

"Uh, what's that, sir?"

"I've seen your scholastic aptitude marks from middle school." He tilted his head slightly. "You were good enough to get a place here when you began your freshman year. What made you go to Winslow instead?"

Taylor ducked her head. "My best friend was going there, so I went there to be with her."

"Hmm. And she's not there any more?"

"She's not my best friend any more," Taylor replied. "She's friends with the girl who tried to shove me into the locker."

"Ah," he noted, in tones of enlightenment. "That. Well, I've been filled in on what was going on at Winslow, and I will repeat what I told your father; we do not condone that sort of thing at all here."

"Uh, thank you," she replied awkwardly. "I've already met some of the students here. They were nice."

"That's good, that's good," he told her heartily. "Now, is there anything you wanted to know? Any questions?"

"Not really. I just came here to get my final class schedule and my locker number, stuff like that."

"Ah, for that sort of thing, I'll have to pass you on to my overworked and under-appreciated vice principal." He stood up and offered his hand. "Very pleased to meet you, Taylor. I have a feeling you'll get along here."

She shook it. "Well, so far? It's looking pretty good."

He was still chuckling when she left his office.

<><>​

Vice Principal Howell wasn't all that impressive looking, but she was certainly competent. Taylor had her class schedule in one hand, and a map of the school with the pertinent classrooms shown in coloured marker in the other, as the vice principal led the way to the locker that she would be using.

"We've got half an hour before the bell rings for the first period," Ms Howell informed her briskly. "Bathrooms are marked out on your map. I've taken the liberty of placing the books we're supplying you with into your locker. Your locker combination, as well as your school email address and password, are on this piece of paper."

Taylor accepted it. "Uh, thank you, ma'am."

Howell, a mildly unattractive woman with bleached blonde hair, wearing a floral blouse and colourful scarf, offered an austere smile which seemed to pass for humour with her. "You're welcome, Miss Hebert. Now, I'll leave you to settle in."

Taylor watched her walk away, then turned to the locker. Entering the combination, she opened it up; it was of a different pattern to the Winslow model, with multiple shelves that would prevent anyone from being shoved into it. As the vice principal had indicated, a few of these shelves were already laden with books. She unloaded the books she already had, as well as her lunch box, placing the latter on a shelf on its own. Then, consulting her class schedule, she located the books for her first three classes and put those back into her bag, along with the papers she had been given. Finally, she pulled off her jacket and stuffed it into the bottom shelf, that being the only empty one left.

"Oh, hey," someone commented from beside her. "Just transferred?"

Looking around and up, she saw a red-haired girl eyeing her with a certain amount of curiosity. Her first impression was Emma? What's she doing here? But then she looked again, and saw that it wasn't Emma; the girl's features were pleasant rather than striking, and she wasn't nearly as well-developed as Taylor's ex-best friend.

"Uh, yeah," she agreed, standing up once more and pushing her locker closed. It didn't want to go, so she opened it, and saw that her dice-bag had fallen out of her jacket pocket and was getting in the way of the door. Bending down again, she retrieved it and closed the door properly this time. Turning to the redhead, she went on, "Is this place always so clean?"

The other girl looked around. "I guess. We have a roving janitor. He doesn't miss much. Where'd you come in from?" She leaned more closely, and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Are you a Ward?" Her eyes sparkled with mischief and interest.

Taylor had to smile. "Uh, sorry, no. Not a Ward. And I'm here from Winslow. It was a case of them transferring me, or suffering a massive lawsuit. Bullying."

"Well, that explains the cleanliness comment then," the redheaded girl observed. "I thought that there might be ninja cleaners, polishing the corridor behind me, and I never knew about it."

Taylor snorted. "Ninja cleaners? Really?"

"Well, it could happen. So, what's your first – ooh. Is that a dice bag?"

Taken aback, Taylor glanced down at the bag she still held. "I, uh, yes?"

"So what do you play? Do you have glitter dice? I love glitter dice. Do you prefer meat shields or rogue types? Or wait, I bet you prefer clerics. Back, foul creature!" she proclaimed, striking a stance. "Or hey, it's fine if you like casters instead. Casters are cool, too."

"Wow, no, I don't actually play, or rather, I've never played," Taylor protested, trying not to laugh at the other girl's rapid-fire delivery.

The redhead frowned. "So what are you doing with the dice?" Before Taylor could react, the girl had plucked the bag from her hand and poured out the contents into her own palm. "Yup, that's gaming dice, all right. And not brand new either. These babies have seen some use."

"Yeah, they're my dad's," Taylor admitted, retrieving the dice and putting them back into the bag. "He's showed me the games he used to play, but I have no idea how to play them. I just like carrying the dice around. It's fun to roll them."

The girl tilted her head. "Well, I have to admit, that's different. But hey, I've got a few different systems. They're not hard to learn. Would you be interested in playing? I'm trying to get a group together, and it's so hard to get people to commit. Say yes, please please please."

Taylor had to admit that she had a very effective line in puppy-dog eyes. "I … suppose," she agreed, somewhat dubiously.

"Yay!" Taylor found herself being spontaneously hugged. It wasn't something she was exactly prepared for. "This is so awesome!"

She was quite literally saved by the bell; at that moment, the chiming sounded through the halls of Arcadia, and the redhead let her go. "Aw darn."

Taylor took pity on her. "Look, I've got to get to home room, but I'll see you at lunch, right?"

"Sure thing." The other girl lit up all over again. "Say, what's your name, anyway?"

"Taylor. Taylor Hebert."

"Cool. I'm Annette Campbell. See you at lunch." And off she dashed, leaving Taylor to shake her head and pull out the map to find her home room.

Well, it's certainly not going to be boring around here.

<><>​

Sophia Hess leaned back in her chair at the Wards monitor station; part of her attention was on the screens before her, but mainly she was intent on her phone.

• can't believe they let us have our phones back. That was Madison.
• Yeah, I know, right? But whats with Emma?
• Dunno. She hasnt talked to me either.

Sophia frowned. Better clear your phone. Wipe all those texts about Hebert.

• Wipe everything? She thought she detected a tone of doubt in the letters on the screen.
• Fuck yes everything. If they get her phone but ours are clear, they cant prove shit. All we have to do is say we dont know anything about it.
• Crap. I got some good pics too.
• Wipe them as well. She shook her head. Dumbass, she thought but did not type. Everything.
• Okay ill do it now.

"Sophia."

The voice behind her was mild, but she still whirled around, screening her phone with her hand. "Christ, Aegis. Did you want to give me a heart attack?"

"Sorry." He didn't look sorry. He looked like he was secretly pleased with himself for making her jump. She suspected that he'd flown up behind her so as not to make any noise. "The Director wants to see you."

She made a rude noise. "What's Miss Piggy want now?"

He frowned. "You're on shaky ground as it is, Sophia. I wouldn't get in the habit of saying things like that. It's disrespectful to a woman who's put her all into leading the PRT here for the last ten years."

"Can't have been," she snarked. "If she'd put her all into it, the Empire Eighty-Eight and the ABB'd be all behind bars, and the Merchants would be selling souvenirs down on the Boardwalk."

"Sophia." There was a warning tone in his voice now. "I know you're going through a difficult time. That's why I asked you to not disparage Director Piggot. Now I'm telling you."

"Or what?" she challenged him. "You'll report me?"

He met her gaze steadily. "Yes. I will. If you keep going the way you are."

She glared back at him for a long moment. "Fine. What does Her Highness Madame Piggot the Director want from me?"

"For you to go to Conference Room Six, up on -"

"I know where ConSix is," she interrupted him. "I've been here six months, not six days."

<><>​

"Well, Corporal McKenzie's waiting outside to escort you there anyway," Aegis told her.

Predictably, she grimaced. "I just told you, I know my way around. I don't need a nursemaid. For fuck's sake, I was on my own for more than a year before I joined the Wards!"

"Not my call." He took refuge in bluntness. "But you are currently in the shit, so I'd suggest that you don't kick up too much trouble. Just let the corporal escort you to where you need to be, and make it at least look like you're cooperating. Okay?"

Again, she glared at him. "Fine." Turning back to the monitor console, she picked up her mask and put it on. "Someone better take over from me. Wouldn't want the console to be unmanned."

"I'll take care of it," Aegis assured her. He watched her head over to the doors and slap the contact panel. They hummed open, then shut solidly behind her.

"Wow, what's going on?" asked Vista; she was sitting at one of the tables, playing cards with Clockblocker.

"I'll explain on the way; you're coming with me." He headed for the doors.

"What?" exclaimed Clockblocker, as she got up from the table. "I had a killer hand, too."

"Which reminds me," Aegis noted, turning back toward Clockblocker. "You're on monitor duty till I get back."

"Aw, man," complained the white-clad teen. "I just got off monitor duty when Sophia got here." But he got up anyway and headed over to the console.

"I'll make it up to you," Aegis promised, slapping the contact panel. "Come on, Vista. We haven't got much time."

"But where are we going?"

He grinned. "You'll see."

<><>​

Corporal McKenzie seemed to be a typical stolid PRT guard; he escorted her into the lift then stood, watching the doors as it ascended. I haven't got much time. Behind his back, Sophia slid her phone out, and scrolled through the options until she reached 'factory reset'.

The lift came to a halt, and the corporal turned to her. "Shadow Stalker, down this way please."

"Coming, coming." She pressed the button to go ahead with the factory reset, then shut the phone down and replaced it in her belt pouch. Now read anything off of it.

With a lighter step – a weight taken off of her shoulders, if not a lighter conscience – she strode along the corridor, ignoring Corporal McKenzie's directions, until she came to the door in question. He went to open it for her; she darted forward and grabbed the handle first, turning it and pushing the door open.

Conference Room Six was on a corner of the building; floor to ceiling windows dominated two walls. She entered, then stopped short when she saw who was waiting for her. Behind her, Corporal McKenzie stopped at the door.

"What's going on here?" she demanded. "I've been on monitor duty for the last week, with no-one telling me nothing, and now this?" She turned to Director Piggot, sitting next to Deputy Director Renick at the head of the table. "You brought my mother in on this?"

"I contacted her, Shadow Stalker," Renick informed her firmly. "She chose to attend. Come in and sit down, please."

She didn't really have much of a choice; the guard behind her was blocking the doorway, and she was pretty sure that the repercussions would be a little more stringent than a week of monitor duty if she cut and ran, now. Bluff and deny. They can't prove anything really bad against me. And I just wiped my phone, so that's off my back as well.

"Fine." She walked down the length of the table, her mother watching her with worried eyes, past the PRT twit who was supposed to be her minder, past Triumph. There was a chair set up between her mother and the PRT drone, with her back to the windows, but she grabbed another one from where it sat against the wall, and pulled it into position at the far end of the table from Pig-oh. Pulling her cloak into position, she seated herself, then rested her elbows on the table and stared up its length at the Director. "So let's talk," she invited.

The Pigmeister looked as though she'd been sucking on a lemon, which didn't change matters very much, in Sophia's opinion. "Shadow Stalker," she began. "Last week, you were caught attempting to force a girl into her locker, said locker containing a significant amount of biohazard waste. Caught by the victim's father, and the principal. What do you say to that?"

"It was a prank," Sophia explained, her voice earnest. "You know, pranks? Funny stuff?" Sense of humour? Oh wait, you had yours surgically removed. To make way for all the fat.

"It was anything but a prank," Renick declared, tapping a sheaf of papers in front of him. "The material in her locker was tested, and found to be highly toxic. Had she gotten it into any cuts, there would have been a significant chance of infection. Serious infection."

Sophia gestured airily. "Hey. Not my problem what Hebert chooses to keep in her locker."

"So this is your contention, that the Hebert girl had somehow emptied the contents of no less than three biohazard containers into her locker, sometime over the Christmas break." This was Piggot again, putting her oar in.

"Well, how else would it have gotten in there?" asked Sophia. "And before you ask me why she would've done it, who knows? She's a loner weirdo freak."

"Well, here's the thing," Renick stated. "We have a large amount of material from Taylor Hebert, dating from before this incident, accusing you, one Emma Barnes, and a Madison Clements, of many more bullying activities. Now, we know that you have a connection with Ms Barnes through her father, and anecdotal evidence has you being friends with both girls at Winslow. Do you deny that you know both of them well?"

"Oh, I know 'em," Sophia agreed. "But any accusations are bullshit. She probably wrote that shit up over Christmas after filling her locker full of shit, just so that she could point the finger at us and say that we did it."

"True," Piggot agreed. "She could have. This is a valid point." She paused, just long enough for Sophia to begin to relax. "Shadow Stalker, please pass me your phone."

"What?"

"Your cell phone. You carry it in costume. Pass it to me. Now."

All of a sudden, Pig-oh didn't seem so useless and flabby any more. Her eyes bored into Sophia's. Sophia pulled out the work phone and skidded it down the table. "Here you go."

Piggot captured it with her hand without looking. "Now your other one."

"What?" Apprehension washed through Sophia, despite the fact that she'd just cleared it. Can't be seen to be giving up too easily. "No way. That's my private, personal phone. You can't touch that."

Piggot slapped a sheet of paper on to the table. "This outlines my duties and capabilities as Director of this branch of the PRT. You will find that I most certainly can confiscate and examine any item that you carry as part of your costume. If you have that phone on you right now, pass it down to me." Her voice took on a harsher note. "Or I can have you searched. Whichever you prefer."

Sophia's doubts that Piggot would do such a thing were rapidly fading. "Okay, fine."

Piggot didn't let up on her. "I will give you fair warning. We will be searching both phones for any evidence of bullying activity regarding the Hebert girl."

Carelessly, Sophia shrugged, as she got the phone out. "Won't find anything."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Piggot indicated Armsmaster and Kid Win. "Our resident Tinkers seem to think that they can dig out the most buried data on a phone, even information that's supposedly been wiped."

Oh shit. Chris is a dweeb, but he's a smart dweeb. And Armsmaster's been doing this as long as I've been alive. Fuck, I should have lost the phone. Destroyed it. At least removed the SIM.

She paused, juggling the phone as she thought rapidly. "Look, can I just -"

"No." The word was final. "You can't just anything. Interfere with that phone in any way, and I will be forced to presume that you are destroying evidence."

She tried to force an embarrassed expression; it didn't seem to be working. "Look, there's stuff I've got on there. Delicate stuff. Selfies and stuff like that. Pics of me pretending to make out with other girls. Stuff I don't want anyone seeing. I've just got to delete that stuff, all right?"

"No, it is not all right. Triumph, confiscate Shadow Stalker's phone and bring it to me. Immediately."

Rory got up and moved down toward her. "Sophia, hand it over. Don't make this hard on yourself."

Jumping up, Sophia backed off, her cell-phone behind her back. "Get away from me. They're trying to railroad me, can't you see that?"

"Sophia, I just want to sort this out." Triumph came closer, his hand out. "This doesn't have to get any worse. Give me the phone."

Sophia brought the phone around in front of her, made as if to hand it over, but pulled it back at the last moment. Triumph advanced on her; she jumped back, going to shadow for a moment, and reforming in the corner of the room, where two windows met.

"You realise, the more we dance around like this, the worse it looks for you," Triumph pointed out. "You really want Kid Win and Armsmaster looking at your selfies?"

"Well, fuck you, and fuck Kid Win," she spat. Turning to the window, she went to shadow and stuck her hand through the glass, then let the phone go. Pulling her hand back again, she resumed normal form. "Whoops, I accidentally dropped it. Sorry about that." It was a long way to the pavement; she wasn't quite sure if the phone would turn solid first, and shatter into a million pieces, or if it would carry on into the concrete and be lost forever. Either way, there's no way they'll find the SIM.

Triumph advanced on her, what little she could see of his face was set in grim lines. "Sophia, that was monumentally stupid. Hold out your arms. I want to check your pouches."

"Sure. Want me to bend and spread 'em, too?" She knew that she was still in trouble, but without the phone, they had no real evidence against her. I'll just have to keep my nose clean for a while …

"No. Just the pouches." He delved into each of the pouches, then turned to the Director. "She dropped it all right, ma'am."

"Very well," the Director responded. "Be seated, the both of you." She seemed remarkably calm, considering that Sophia had just put one over on her. "Shadow Stalker, you've just proven that you can't be trusted in this matter."

"So I texted Emma and Madison a few times. So what?" Sophia shrugged. "Doesn't mean we conspired against Hebert."

Renick leaned forward. "The information we've been given indicates otherwise."

"But it's her word against mine. Mine, Emma's and Madison's. Plus any number of other people. Or don't eyewitness accounts matter here?"

"Given that several people just saw you throw your phone away to avoid it being examined for evidence, I would say that they do," Piggot noted.

"There was nothing on that phone that was illegal, and you can't prove that there was," Sophia stated flatly. "Burden of proof is on you, not me."

"So, about that," Aegis announced, opening the door and entering. "One phone, in good condition, Director." He strolled over to where Piggot sat, and handed her a phone; Sophia identified it, to her growing consternation, as the one that she had just dropped out the window.

"Well done, Aegis," Renick praised him. "You had no trouble catching it?"

"A little," admitted the Ward. "Needed some tricky work by Vista to make sure it didn't fall through the pavement, but I managed to catch it without breaking it. Screen's cracked a little, but it seems to be working fine otherwise."

"What the fuck?" blurted Shadow Stalker. "What the actual fuck? You fucking set me up?"

"No, you set yourself up," Triumph snapped. "We just let you do it. If you'd handed your phone over to start with … "

"No!" screamed Sophia. "No fucking way! You don't beat me! I don't lose!" She launched herself forward along the length of the table, going to shadow, reaching for the phone …

… and the Director lifted a taser from under the table, and shot her with it, at point-blank range. The charge from the batteries grounded through her immaterial form, and she turned solid, juddering with the shock. Vaguely she was aware of being bundled from the table, and her arms being secured together.

<><>​

When she came back to herself, she was seated between her mother and the PRT twit. The PRT guard was standing behind her chair. Aegis was sitting where she had been. Her mother was looking at her with a mixture of pity and resignation on her face. Sophia hated that look. Her phone was still sitting on the table; Armsmaster and Kid Win were no longer in the room. Her wrists were fastened together in front of her, with high-tech cuffs; they were humming slightly. She didn't need to guess what they did.

"What …?" she mumbled, gesturing at the phone.

"Oh, are you wondering why we aren't opening up your phone and having a good look at all your dirty secrets?" asked the Director. "It's because we already have."

Sophia blinked. "... uh?"

Piggot sighed. "We looked into your phone, and the other two girls', when they were first confiscated, a week ago. We got all the text messages."

This wasn't adding up. "Madison -"

"- never got her phone back. We've had a police officer answering your texts. This has all been a sting with a single, solitary aim in mind."

Her head was clearing; when she spoke, her voice was bitter. "To entrap me."

"No." Renick's tone was firm. "To give you a chance to give yourself up. To see if you were salvageable. I talked the Director into it -"

" - against my better judgement, I must say," muttered Piggot.

"- but between us, we chose to allow you a week to come to your senses, to confess what you'd done, to accept your punishment."

Sophia shook her head. "So wait, you've sharpened the axe, and you were waiting on me to put my head under it? Fuck that."

"Well, it was either administrative punishment, if you had confessed before we faced you with it, or back to juvenile detention," Renick stated. "This little charade today was intended to make you jump, one way or the other." His tone was regretful. "It looks like you made your choice, sorry to say."

Director Piggot raised her head. "Wards do not act in this way, not on my watch. Your probation has been violated, and you will be going back to juvenile detention."

Sophia shook her head. "No."

Renick raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I think the word is 'yes'. Because we can."

"No," repeated Sophia. "I didn't do it as Shadow Stalker. I did it as Sophia Hess. You can't violate my probation on that."

"A legal fiction," Renick stated. "You did it; whether you did it as Shadow Stalker or as Sophia Hess is beyond the point."

"No, actually, there is a legal separation," the Director corrected him. "I wanted to be sure about this, so I looked it up. The only way we can prove that she did this as Shadow Stalker would be if she used her powers to do it. It's to do with the 'use of powers in the commission of a crime' clause."

"Well then, I didn't," Sophia declared. "Easy, done."

"Indeed?" queried Piggot. "So how exactly did you get all that toxic waste into her locker?"

Sophia saw the trap coming, and thought fast. "Opened her locker. Put the stuff in. Closed the locker."

"That would've been difficult at the best of times," Renick objected. "To leave nothing lying around … "

"We cleaned up, after. It's how we did it."

"So, you opened the locker. Not Ms Barnes, not Ms Clements. You." Piggot's voice was intent.

Sophia nodded. "Yeah. Me."

"Very well, what was the combination?"

"What?"

"It's a simple question. What was the combination?"

Sophia felt herself trapped. "I … uh, I don't remember."

"Well, you obviously went to the lengths to find it out, so that you could remember it at the time," Piggot pointed out, almost reasonably for her. "And now you're going to tell me that you've forgotten it in the meantime? If I had Ms Barnes or Ms Clements questioned over this, would they also say that you opened the locker, using the combination? Would they be likely to remember the combination that you used?" Her voice rose to a shout at the end. "Or would they simply state that you used your powers?"

She glared at Shadow Stalker. "Your life is going to be investigated. Every last bit of it. We will be prosecuting you. You will be going to juvenile detention." A gesture. "Take her away."

The last thing she saw as Corporal McKenzie lifted her from her chair and marched her from the room was her mother's look of pity.

She hated that.

<><>​

Lunch break at Arcadia was a more pleasant affair than at Winslow. Taylor had retrieved her box lunch, gotten a bottle of fruit juice from a vending machine, and met up with Annette. The redhead had promptly decided that they'd eat outside, so they found a free table. Despite the time of year, the sun was pleasantly warm. While Taylor started on her lunch, Annette began searching through her backpack.

"Annette's an interesting name," Taylor commented idly. "How did you end up with it?"

"Oh, that's simple," the redhead told her, still rummaging. "I got named after Mom's BFF in college. They were really close for years, then she got married and they drifted apart."

"What, your mom?"

"No, the bestie. Mom's a free spirit. She does what she wants. Marriage isn't her thing."

"Oh, uh … " Taylor felt awkward. "Sorry, I didn't mean -"

"Don't worry about it," Annette assured her. "I never do. Oh, hey, here we go." She plopped a stack of paper on the table between them. "Character sheets."

Taylor eyed them; they bore a certain amount of resemblance to the sheets that her father had stored in his 'gaming box' as he called it. These ones, however, hadn't been filled out. "They're all different."

"Because they're from different games, duh. I've got the rules for 'em all. We can play any one you like."

This was beginning to look daunting. "Uh, I don't know anything about any of them."

"Okay, we can work with that." Annette singled a sheet out. "This one's from Earth Aleph. It's pretty good. It's derived from this one, but they've sorted out some of the problems."

"Okay, if you say it's all right, we can do that one." Taylor picked up the sheet and looked at it. "What's a, uh, 'bab'?"

"That's an acronym. It stands for 'Base Attack Bonus'. It's basically how good you are at hitting things. Depending on what your character's class and level are, that sort of thing."

"Uh, class?" Taylor had a mental image of a fantasy warrior, complete with ridiculously oversized sword, hunched over a desk in a schoolroom, learning … what? How to fight dragons?

"Her occupation, that sort of thing. Fighter, paladin, ninja, whatever. Fighter types get a high BAB, while squishy classes like spellcasters get a lower BAB." She actually spelled it out, and Taylor felt a little silly for pronouncing it like a name.

"Oh." Taylor thought about that. "So if you're playing a Brute type class, you get a higher BAB, is that it?"

Annette considered that. "Yeah, pretty much. But this isn't about capes. Though I have to admit, some of the stuff they get up to in the higher levels is pretty cape-worthy."

"Okay, sounds interesting," Taylor conceded. "I'll want to read the rules, of course."

"All right." Annette pumped her fist in the air. "We'll have you kickin' ass and takin' names in no time."

Taylor had to grin; the redhead's enthusiasm was infectious. "We'll see."

<><>​

Annette's friends were just as geeky as she was, and just as fun. As soon as the redhead introduced her as "Taylor, who's interested in gaming," she was more or less instantly included in the group. A lot of the terminology went over her head, but her dice bag was mentioned, so she brought it out and the dice were examined carefully. She even got a few admiring comments when she admitted to making it herself.

They strolled out through the school gates, chattering animatedly; not only about gaming, but also about books, comics, TV shows and movies that they were interested in. Taylor could hold her own on the book side of things, and a few of the TV shows and movies were ones she'd seen, but by the time they got outside, she had a dozen or more titles that she 'just had' to see.

To her surprise, she saw her father waiting for her in the parking lot. "Oh, wow," she blurted.

"What? What's the matter?" asked Annette.

"Nothing. Just that Dad's here to pick me up," Taylor replied, waving to get his attention.

"Aww, I was looking forward to riding on the bus with you," the redhead replied with a mock pout.

"It's only for today," Taylor hastened to explain. "After this, I'll be using the bus."

"Excellent," Annette declared. "More gaming time for all."

"Well, I'll see you later, guys," Taylor told them.

"Yeah, I'll bring the rulebook tomorrow," Annette promised. "It's pretty solid. You'll be a couple of days reading it."

"My mom was an English professor," Taylor informed her. "Reading is not something I have a problem with."

"Sounds good. See you tomorrow." Annette surprised her with another hug; Taylor awkwardly hugged her back.

"See you then. Bye, guys."

In the midst of a chorus of 'bye, Taylor', she jogged over to where her father was waiting.

"Well," he commented. "It looks like you haven't wasted any time making new friends."

"It's more like I got ambushed," she confessed. "Annette – the redhead girl there – kind of grabbed me and wouldn't let me get away."

"Annette, huh?" Dad asked as she got into the car.

"Yeah, she's pretty hard to stop once she gets going. A lot of fun, though. She introduced me to all of her friends, and they're all a bit nerdy like me, so we've got stuff in common."

"Well, that sounds really nice." He started the car and began wending his way out of the parking lot. "School fees are going to be a little higher for Arcadia, but I think it'll be well worth it."

"Yeah, I've got a good bit of homework, but I think it'll be cool." Taylor leaned back and sighed. "Wow, it's been a tiring day. Tiring but good."

Dad's voice was teasing. "So, too tired to swing by the post office?"

She sat up immediately. "No, god no. Post office, now, please."

He grinned at her; she wrinkled her nose at him.

<><>​

"Hi."

Taylor opened her eyes and looked up from where she was leaning against the wall outside the post office. Dad had gone inside to pick up the parcel, but she had chosen to enjoy the sunlight some more. A girl of about twelve or thirteen was looking at her intently.

"Uh, hi?" she replied. "Can I help you?"

"Sure you can," the girl replied, then glanced around. "We can help each other. You've got super-powers, and so have I. I'm looking at forming a team; with our abilities, we can do a lot to help this city and the people in it. I'd like you on the team. Are you interested?"


End of Part Three

Part Four

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Four: Looking for Group


Taylor

I tried to control my reaction, but my eyes still widened in shock. "I – what?"

"You've got powers," the girl repeated, her voice steady. "So have I. I'm recruiting for a team. Are you interested?" Her expression matched her voice, calm and confident; a little unsettling on someone who didn't even look to be in high school yet.

Hastily, I shook my head. "No, I think you have the wrong person. I don't have powers." Who is this person? How did she find out?

Her voice was relentless. "One of my powers is to find the right person for the job. No matter what the job is. The 'job' I'm looking to recruit people for right now is to be a part of a superhero team. You pinged on my radar as soon as I saw you. Your power is to tell the future, by rolling dice or other random data generators. You would be a tremendous asset."

I blinked. She actually knows my power. Dammit, I only ran the numbers for during school hours. I didn't check for trouble after school. "What if I'm not interested in joining your little superhero club? What if your power's wrong?"

Her expression never changed. "I don't think it is. Are you willing to at least listen to what I have to say?"

God, I want to just roll the dice now, and see which way I should jump. "Uh, can I at least think about this?"

"Take as long as you like." She extended her hand; in it was a folded piece of paper. "Ring this number when you make up your mind."

Numbly, I took it, and unfolded it. In a neatly printed hand, it read:

'MANAGEMENT'

(I might change that if I think of a better name)

Click to shrink...

After that it had a phone number, and a final sentence: "Destroy this note."

I looked up from the slip of paper. "Uh, what if -"

But she was gone. In the few seconds I had spent perusing the note, she had slipped out of sight. Looking around, I couldn't see her at all.

"What if what, Taylor?"

It was Dad's voice; I turned to see him standing in the doorway of the post office.

"Uh, nothing, Dad," I replied, then thought better of the evasion. "Did you see a girl, about yea high? She was here just now."

"No, I don't think so," he responded, a puzzled tone to his voice. "Why, is there something wrong?"

I frowned. "Not sure. Can we go home now?"

"Sure thing." He led the way to the car and unlocked it for me.

I got in, then pulled the dice bag from my pocket. "I need a flat surface. I need to make a roll."

"What's the matter, Taylor?" he asked as he folded himself into the car. "What's happened?"

I took a breath, then related the incident as precisely as I could, handing him the piece of paper when I was finished.

He read it through, twice, carefully. "Well," he murmured. "That's kind of interesting."

"Interesting? It's terrifying." I held up my hands; they were shaking. "Dad, she knew my powers. Just from looking at me."

"Does she know who you are? Did she address you by name?"

Tentatively, I shook my head. "No. No, she didn't."

"Well, that's a start." He passed me the package that he'd gotten from the post office. "There's your flat surface. Roll away."

I opened the dice bag and pulled out the three d10s that I'd been using up till then. "Chances … " I began, trying to think it through. "Chances that I'll be better off if I call her back and accept her offer."

I rolled the dice. They came up with a three, a six and a seven.

"That … doesn't look too good," Dad observed.

"Better than you'd think," I disagreed. "That's seventy-three point six percent."

"Of you being better off for accepting her offer," he noted.

"Yeah." I shot him a worried glance as I gathered up the dice. "I still want to think about this for a bit."

"I don't blame you, Taylor," he agreed. "I don't blame you at all." He started the car. "Let's go home."

<><>​

Dinah

I watched the car pull out of the parking lot. The man and his daughter had sat talking for a few moments; they were most likely discussing me and my offer to her. I wasn't worried; her intent showed reluctant acceptance toward the idea. She would probably think about it for a while, then call me back.

Well, I think that went reasonably smoothly.

My disappearing act hadn't been much of a trick; as soon as her attention had been diverted by the note, I had ducked into the post office, just before her father had emerged. His attention had been focused on the package he was carrying, so I had escaped his notice. I hadn't wanted to be there when she spoke to him about me; besides, I figured that a slight air of mystery couldn't hurt.

Pulling out my notepad, I wrote "Dice Girl" and put a tick next to the name. Closing it again, I dropped it into my bag and headed for the bus stop; I had already wandered around the mini-mall and found no other candidates. My all-day bus pass and I were going to visit every major after-school hangout for teenagers before I was done.

Still, encountering the girl on my first stop had to be a good omen. I have a good feeling about this.

<><>​

Taylor

"I'm not so sure about this," Dad told me. "Who was that girl, anyway?"

"I have no idea," I admitted. "She never gave me her name. Just the note with 'Management' written on it."

"I have an idea how we can find out," he offered.

I looked at him, confused. "How?"

"Open the package," he advised me; reminded of it, I set to work pulling off the wrapping.

It came away to reveal a featureless cardboard box, which I opened. Inside … "What the heck are these?"

There were a dozen of them, each in its own little niche in the box. Each of them was a little over an inch in diameter, bulky plastic shapes. Almost like d20s except … "Dad, these things have letters on them."

"Well, fancy that," he observed blandly. "Will wonders never cease?"

Snorting at his dry tone, I plucked one from the box and examined it more closely. It had more than twenty sides; looking at it carefully, I counted thirty. All the letters from A to Z, plus an ampersand, a hyphen, a full stop and one blank side.

"Ooh," I murmured. "I can work with these."

"Well, I hope so," he replied with a grin. "Otherwise I might regret having ordered them in. Happy birthday, Taylor."

"My birthday isn't till June," I told him absently as I picked more dice from the box and rolled them in my hands.

"Then merry Christmas."

"That was last month."

"Very late Christmas," he amended. "Whatever. I hope you like them."

I smiled at him. "Thanks, Dad. I do. They're great."

"Good." He nodded toward them. "So, can they tell us the name of the mystery girl?"

"Oh, good point." I emptied the dice into my lap and pulled out the little dividers as well, then scooped up as many as I could fit into my hand. In the event, this was four of them. Taking a deep breath, I prepared to roll them inside the box. "What will I find out the name of this girl to be?"

The dice clattered into the box and came to a stop; I read them off as D-I-N-A.

"That's an odd name," I muttered.

"Maybe there's more to it," Dad offered.

"Oh. Yeah." I scooped up the dice and prepared to roll them again. "Uh, the rest of her name?"

Once more, the dice rolled on the cardboard. This time, I read them as H-blank-A-full stop.

"Okay, her name's Dinah then. Last name starts with A. Huh. I'm actually kind of surprised that worked."

"You're surprised," Dad observed. "I'm just plain impressed."

"Hmm." Replacing the divider,I put the dice away, and pulled out my standard dice bag again. Out came the three d10s. "Chances that we'll be able to help people and do some good if I join this team of Dinah's?"

The dice rolled across the box; to my practised eye, they came out as 83.2%.

"Okay," I mused. "And the chance that they'll be able to help people and do some good if I don't join?" Again, I rolled the dice, and stared at the result. Thirty-six point one percent. Crap.

Dad hadn't been watching the rolls, given that he was driving, but now he glanced across at my face. "I know that look, Taylor. That's the look that says, 'I'm going to do the right thing if it kills me'. I've seen it on your mom's face too often to mistake it."

I looked up at him, worried. "I don't think I've got a choice, Dad. If I join, it raises their overall chances of being a successful team by nearly fifty percent."

"You've always got a choice," he pointed out. "Always. If you don't want to do it, then you don't have to."

Okay, one more question. "If I don't join the team, what chance will I have of using my power to make a real, positive difference in the city?"

The dice rolled. The numbers came up. I grimaced and scooped the dice up.

"What did you get?" asked Dad.

"Nine point six three percent," I replied, putting them away. "So if I want to help people, and if I want to help Dinah's team help people … "

"You'll have to join," Dad agreed, as we pulled into our driveway.

"Ugh," I muttered. "I hate being forced into things."

"Well," he commented as he turned the engine off, "you know I'll support you in whatever you do. But I would like to meet this Dinah at some point. Just to make sure she knows what she's doing. Such as not planning to put you into danger."

"I'll second that," I agreed fervently. "I just got out of a dangerous environment." I paused, thoughtful. "Though you know … I could just check every day." I mimed rolling dice. "'Is there going to be a problem today?'"

"Huh." He rubbed his chin. "You could, at that."

I grinned at him and hefted the box of alphabet dice. "Okay, let's get inside so I can test these things out some more."

"Sounds like a plan."

<><>​

Dinah

If I find anyone else, it'll be in the Market.

I stepped off the bus, adjusted my backpack, and started off along the Boardwalk. The larger shopping malls had their attractions, but the cheaper prices of some of the shops within the Market were a definite draw. Add in the subtle air of almost-danger from the patrolling enforcers – they weren't quite security guards, and they weren't quite cops – and teens were almost guaranteed to flock to the place.

I personally didn't see the thrill in it, but I wasn't there for that. I was there to see if any of the thrill-seeking teens were parahumans; more specifically, parahumans who would fit into my paradigm for a superhero team. Spotting them would be no trick at all; my power would point them out to me, just as I had been guided to speak to the girl outside the post office. Talking to them was a bit more of a challenge, as my power only gave me broad hints as to which approach to take.

If I can find someone who's good at talking to people, my problems will be solved.

Casually, I strolled down the walkway between the shops, my hand in my pockets, obviously window-shopping to any casual observer. Which I was, in a way. But it wasn't bargains that I was shopping for.

And then my phone rang. Ah. I bet that's Dice Girl. I stopped to get the phone out of my backpack, then answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello, Dinah."

The voice was that of 'Dice Girl', but I was more than a little surprised to hear her address me by name. But then …

"Ah, hi. You've uh, checked me out, I see." After all, I had wanted to recruit her because of how useful her powers could be.

"You could say that. Your name is Dinah Alcott and you're the mayor's niece."

"Your dice told you that? I'm impressed."

"Nope. My Dad did. He knows your family, vaguely."

"Ah. Right. Still impressed. So, what's the verdict?"

"I ran the numbers. If I join the team, we could really make a difference together. Without me, you've got a less than forty percent chance to make it work."

I blinked. "That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. That bad. Worse, if I try to go it alone, I've got a less than ten percent chance of helping people and changing things for the better."

That sounded hopeful. "So … you'll be joining?"

"I will be, but the numbers tell me that I need to be more than just a member. I need to have a say in leadership."

"Wait, what? You've only just heard about this thing, and already you want to run it?"

"Have a say in how it's run. There's a difference. You say you can manage people; that's fine. But there's more to leading a team than managing people."

"Ah, right, now I see what you're getting at. Well, we can definitely talk about that."

"Good. Well, you're going to spot your next prospect really soon. But she'll be a tough sell."

"How do you know that?" If the girl told me that I was going to spot a prospect soon, then I would trust her in the matter; I began to look around.

"I ran the numbers. Five … four … three … two … one … now."

On 'now', my eyes fell on the prospect she was telling me about. Just walking out of a shop ahead of me. In fact, there were three prospects; a tall black guy, a shorter white guy with a pretty face and curly hair, and a blonde with her hair done up in a complicated braid. It was the blonde I was looking at; the other two only registered as vague prospects, given that they had loyalty elsewhere, and would be hard to break away. The blonde also had the outside loyalty, but with her it was a lot weaker; I was pretty sure there was resentment there. Forced into working for someone?

Not for the first time, I wished my power supplied me with names; not knowing who they were loyal to could be a problem. Wait. "Yeah, I see her," I replied into the phone. "She's with a couple of others. They look like a group. Maybe a team."

"Wait, you mean other parahumans?"

"That's what my power's telling me."

"I don't get it. I only came up with one prospect, a girl."

"Well, there's one girl and two guys. But they're all three powered, so I'm guessing they're a team of some sort. They've got a group loyalty, anyway."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Well, you know how you found out my name ..." I paused meaningfully.

She didn't take long to get it. "You want me to find out her name too?"

"If you can, as well as the team she's currently with." If I can look her up on PHO, that might be useful ...

"Okay, one second." There was a pause, and then a clatter of plastic on wood. "Okay, I'm reading her name as 'Lisa'."

"Okay, great, that's awesome. What's her team name?"

"Ow, dammit."

"What? What happened?"

"Got a cramp in my hand. Ow."

"What does that mean?"

"Not sure, but I think it means that I just tried to ask a question that my power can't answer. Or won't answer."

"What do you mean, your power can't or won't answer it?"

"I'm not sure. Sometimes I get this cramp. Maybe it's because I'm trying to ask a question that I normally couldn't get the answer of. Maybe when I use my power, it's checking stuff that I would've learned in the future without my power. And I'm not going to find that answer out without using my power, so I can't find the answer out."

"So you can't find out stuff that you wouldn't have found out normally?" This could make things difficult.

"I guess."

"Well, thanks for the name, anyway. Uh, by the way, talking about names; you know mine. What's yours?"

There was a muffled snort of amusement on the other end of the line. "What, you're only just asking me now?"

I felt my cheeks heating up. "I've had things on my mind, okay?"

"Heh. True. It's Taylor. Taylor Hebert."

"Okay, cool. Nice to meet you, Taylor."

"Likewise, I guess." I heard another clatter of plastic on wood. "Hm."

"What?"

"You'll probably find your pitch a lot easier if you talk to her away from the others."

I smiled dryly; I'd already figured that one out. "Yep, thanks. Anyway, I'll talk to you later."

"See you then."

I ended the call, and was just about to store Taylor's number on my phone when I realised that Lisa had increased her pace, and moved ahead of the other two. Shoving my phone in my pocket, I moved up and past them; they paid me no attention at all, which was perfect for me. Up ahead, there came the flicker of Lisa's blouse as she rounded a corner. When I lost line of sight on her, my power also lost track of her; all I caught was a certain intensity of purpose. She wanted to do something, but I wasn't sure what; my power only measured intent that specifically had to do with the job at hand.

Hurrying onward, I rounded the corner as well, but slowed when I realised that Lisa was nowhere to be seen. Darn, I've lost her. Moving along, I pulled my phone from my pocket again; if Taylor could tell me where she'd gone, maybe I could catch up -

- and then an access door opened, and Lisa yanked me inside. Closed the door. Slammed me up against the wall.

Oh crap oh crap oh crap.

<><>​

Taylor

I put the phone back in the cradle and went to sit on the sofa with Dad.

He looked at me as I sat down. "So what was that about? I heard you rolling dice on the kitchen table."

"Oh, that was Dinah," I replied. "She wanted me to give her some information." I shook my hand; the cramp was just about gone, thankfully.

"So she's looking for other recruits, huh?"

"I guess so," I agreed. "I hope she's careful about it."

"Yeah, me too." He paused. "That friend of yours from Arcadia. Andrea, was it?"

"No." I shook my head. "Annette. Her name's stuck in my head because of Mom, you know?"

"Yeah, that's the funny part," he mused.

"Funny how?" I asked.

He smiled reminiscently. "Back when I was just a bit older than you, I went to the college to see about signing up for summer classes. I kind of met this girl in line, and we struck up a conversation. Once we'd settled our business in admissions, we kept on talking."

"Wait," I interrupted. "Was this … Mom?"

"Yes, it was." Another smile. "We must have talked for an hour before she invited me to the Club for a meal and a drink. While I was there, she introduced me to a friend of hers called Andrea. Andrea Campbell. And she had red hair, just like your friend Annette."

"Wait a minute," I blurted. "Campbell. That name sounds familiar. I think it might be Annette's last name too."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," he observed. "Did you ask her about where she got her name from?"

"Um, yeah. She said that she was named after her mom's best friend, after the friend got married. And that her mom is kind of a free spirit. So I guess that means after Annette's mom got pregnant, she just had Annette and didn't bother getting married."

Dad snorted. "Free spirit. Yeah. That fits, all right. As far as I could tell, Andrea did exactly what Andrea wanted. She never hurt a soul, but she couldn't be bothered with things like shame, either."

There was a tone in his voice that I'd never heard before. "Wait a minute, Dad." I paused, not sure how to word this. "Did you and Andrea … were you and her -"

"Oh god no!" He burst out laughing. "No, she flirted with me, but she flirted with everyone. No, when we met, it was your mom she was involved with."

I blinked, as my worldview shifted. It was a very weird feeling. "Wait. You're saying that my mom and Annette's mom were -" I shut my mouth. That was not something I was going to say out loud.

Solemnly, he nodded. "Yeah. They were. I didn't even realise until after, of course. Your mom and I were an item, and Andrea just … accepted it. Smiled, and wished us the best of luck. Even had a hug and a kiss for me." He sighed, a little nostalgically. "She made our lives a lot more fun. And a lot weirder. We did a lot of stuff together, but she moved to Boston in Anne-Rose's last year. I wonder what happened to her."

"Well, I could ask Annette," I offered, still a little dazed at the revelations he had given me.

"I suppose you could," he agreed. "Just … you know … be tactful about it, okay? Just in case it's not the same person."

I smiled and opened the dice box. With three of the alphabet dice in my hand, I leaned forward. "Tomorrow, will I find out that Annette's mom is Dad's friend Andrea?"

"Wait -" Dad began, but it was too late; I had rolled the dice. He stared at the result as they clattered to a halt. With a Y, an E and an S, the answer was all too easy to make out.

<><>​

Lisa

In my years on the streets, I had learned to pay attention when my powers told me that I was being watched or followed. Admittedly, I hadn't been paying quite enough attention when Coil's goons got their hands on me, but then, those had been professionals, and I had been focused on stealing that one guy's phone. In retrospect, not my finest hour.

Since becoming a professional supervillain, of course, I'd had to up my game. Not only did I have to keep an eye out for people who I'd wronged in my private life, but there was always the chance of someone recognising us for who we were when we were out of costume. The chance of any sort of facial recognition was minimal for three of the four of us; Brian wore a helmet with a full-face visor, Alec had a mask that covered most of his face, and I'd carefully chosen a mask that hid my freckles and changed the shape of my face. I also took care to wear my hair differently and pick out clothes that didn't evoke the lavender and black of my costume; unwritten rules or no, there is such a thing as giving people too many clues.

Rachel, of course, was the one weak point in all of that. As a known face, a publicly wanted villain, we had to take care not to appear on camera with her too obviously in our civilian identities. She had that dog mask thing she wore when out as Bitch, but sometimes she forgot it, sometimes she pulled it off, and sometimes she just didn't care.

The fact also remained that her face and identity were known to the PRT and police; she could walk her dogs along the Boardwalk a dozen times without trouble, but on the thirteenth time a police cruiser might spot her, or she might see someone mistreating a dog, and then it would be on for one and all. Which was why she wasn't with us at the Market; she hadn't really wanted to come, and there was actually a fair chance that someone would recognise her and call it in. Or sic the enforcers on us; this would not turn out well, specifically for the enforcers, but we didn't need that sort of publicity, or the chance of having our faces becoming known as well.

But even with all the precautions, I was still keeping a certain level of awareness up, and shortly after we left the video game store, I started to get that feeling. Turning as if to listen to the good-natured argument between Brian and Alec as to the respective merits of their favourite games, I glanced behind us.

There she was; a girl, twelve years old, straight brown hair. She was talking on the phone, and pretending to look anywhere but at us -

Not looking at us. Looking at me.

Talking on the phone. Talking to someone who knows something about me. Getting information.

Not interested in the others. Just in me.

Doesn't know me, doesn't know much about me. Knows I have powers.

Interested in me because of my powers.

Knows I have powers because she has powers.

Has powers but isn't a current cape.

Wants to talk? to me.

I didn't have enough in the way of data to determine why she wanted to talk to me, but it wasn't hard to work out that she didn't want to talk to me in the company of the other two. Nor, I thought, did she mean me any harm.

For a moment, I considered cluing the other two in and grabbing the girl, but I decided not to go there. After all, there was her mystery confederate, the one who knew something about me. I'd be much better at handling an interrogation without the other two getting in the way, anyway.

So I hurried my pace, moving forward faster. She followed, as I knew she would.

Around the corner, with an access doorway just up ahead – rarely locked, try the handle, opens smoothly, duck on in – and then I waited counting seconds in my head. Footsteps approached the door, of the right weight and speed to be her. Flinging the door open, I grabbed her; she barely had time to yelp before I dragged her into the access corridor and closed the door again.

Inches shorter than me, she was pounds lighter. She wasn't any kind of fighter, which was good, because nor was I. Her hands weren't instinctively reaching for weapons; she wasn't armed. Good.

Pushing her up against the wall, I put my face close to hers.

"Okay, talk. Why were you following me?"


End of Part Four

Part Five

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Five: Roll for Initiative


Dinah

I looked up at her, trying to appear calmer than I was. Being yanked into a service corridor and shoved up against the wall was kind of a new experience, but I tried to roll with it. "Because I wanted to talk to you, Lisa," I replied. "Away from your friends, if possible."

She eyed me sharply, but showed less in the way of surprise than I might have expected from having me know her name. Well, duh. She's got Thinker powers, giving her high-end intuitive capabilities.

"You got my name from your friend on the phone," she stated flatly. "You weren't looking for me; you were looking for someone with powers. I fit the criteria." Her eyes narrowed. "You can tell that I've got powers, just from looking at me?"

From outside, I heard a voice, possibly from the older boy, "Okay, where did Lisa get to now?"

"Search me," the younger boy replied. "Off on one of her tangents, I guess."

Okay, so that's how I was going to learn it. "Yes, I can," I told her quietly. "I want to recruit you. My team needs someone like you, which is how -"

"- you know what powers I have," she finished for me. "It's an analytical Thinker power. Picking out powers is a secondary function. It seeks out people to fulfil a need, a goal. So if you're seeking parahumans, you find parahumans."

"You're right, of course," I confirmed. "Now, I know you're not totally free to join. You and those guys are with a pre-existing team, but you're not on it by choice. However, you're still unsure whether to take me up on it, or to walk away. Because …" I paused. "I don't know the because."

"Huh," she mused. "It's not often that I get analysed. The because is simple. I don't want to end up with a bullet in the head and I don't know if your team can protect me. Scratch that; I appreciate the soft sell, but I'm pretty sure your team – how many members so far? Three?" Her eyes searched mine. "Huh. Two. You and one other. Pretty sure your team can't protect me."

"You might be surprised," I retorted. I was getting a feel for her technique; she liked to push and prod and find weak spots, then exploit them for all she was worth. "I'm really good at organising people according to their strengths. I'm basically the Alexandria of team coaches."

"According to the task at hand, right," she finished for me. "So what's your friend do? Thinker as well?" I didn't react, or at least I didn't think I had, but she nodded anyway. "Right. Some sort of information gathering. You spot prospects and your friend gives you what information she …? … Right, she can about them."

"Exactly," I retorted, nettled. "And if you can give me any information about whoever's likely to shoot you in the head, I can work out a plan to get around that problem for you."

She stared at me. "Holy shit, you really think you can. No way, kiddo. It's not going to happen. This isn't just some ganger. We're talking about major Shaker or Thinker powers that you're going up against. Reality manipulation, at the very least. So walk away while you still can."

I shook my head. "I'm not just some kid. And this isn't some wannabe team. For instance, check this out." Pulling out my phone, I dialled Taylor's number.

"Hello?"

I cleared my throat. "It's me. Lisa isn't convinced. Tell me the random number she's about to guess."

Listening carefully to the phone, I could hear dice clattering, but Taylor didn't speak. I watched Lisa expectantly, then put the phone on speaker and mute. "Well?" I asked.

She crossed her arms and looked back at me. "Not gonna give you one," she stated.

"But you have to," I protested.

"Nope." She folded her arms. "I don't have to do anything. Let's see what your friend says about that."

"Wonderful." Sighing, I took the phone off of mute. "What've you got?"

"No number given. She's being a bitch." A grin spreading across my face, I watched as her expression changed. She pointed at the mute button, so I hit it again.

"Okay, so you've got a precognitive," she admitted. "Useful. How accurate is she?"

"Accurate enough to let me know that you were going to be a bitch," I pointed out.

"There is that." She rubbed her chin. "Okay, what makes you think you can go up against a guy who has dozens of well-trained minions with automatic weapons? Pretty certain that he's not gonna let someone just poach his best Thinker, not without some serious argument."

I frowned. "Who is this guy, anyway? It's not Lung, because you're not Asian. Could be Kaiser, but you haven't mentioned the obvious heavy-hitters and I don't know of anyone in that gang with probability manipulation. It's not Uber or L33t, unless they've had a total competency upgrade."

Lisa snorted. "No, it's not those two losers. Look, if I tell you who it is, will you walk away then? You seem like a nice kid and you've got some serious cojones, trying to poach me for your team, but I don't want to see you hurt."

"Maybe," I allowed. My phone chimed; I didn't look at it. "Depends who it is."

"That's fair." She nodded. "It's Coil. Satisfied?"

"Coil?" I frowned, then took the phone off of mute. "What do you have on -"

"Coil? He's supposed to be a mid-level crime boss. PHO rates him as not very high on the scale."

"Damn, that's got to be super useful." Lisa sounded mildly envious.

"Yeah." I raised my voice slightly. "Anything there about probability manipulation?"

"Nope. Says he's not a cape at all."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Well, duh. If you could alter the chance of something happening or not happening, would you broadcast the fact, or just let your enemies – of which he has more than a few, let me tell you – think that they're all suffering from shitty luck? All the time?"

I had to admit it, she had a really good point. "Okay, so Coil's got you in a really bad situation. And he's got guys with guns, not to mention those two guys I saw you with, working for him. What are they, your minders?"

"Huh? Oh, no. No. Those are my teammates. I'm in the Undersiders."

"Which is owned by Coil."

"None of which is on the page for his gang."

"Which is, as you say, owned by Coil." She pointed at my phone. "It won't say anything about it on PHO. He comes across as an unpowered gang leader, but he pays us to do stuff for him, stuff that he doesn't want connected to his operation."

"Ahh." Comprehension dawned. "So if he wanted to pull something against one of the other gangs, he'd use the Undersiders, leaving him in the clear."

"More or less, yeah." She eyed me. "So, you figured out yet that it's a good idea to walk away right now?"

I looked right back at her. "What if we could do it? Would you join? We could be helping people and there wouldn't be a gun to your head."

"You don't get it." She shook her head. "He'll always have a gun to my head."

"I mean, if Coil wasn't a factor. Would you join us then?"

She raised an eyebrow; there was a bemused look on her face. "Kid, I gotta hand it to you. You've got big brass ones. If and only if Coil's out of the picture, I'll join you. But it's a really, really bad idea to try to bring him down. Like I said, he's got probability manipulation or something really similar to it. I've never seen him caught short. It's like he can change events to suit his needs."

I nodded. "Got it. We're not going to do anything silly. But if I came to you with a plan of action, would you at least consider it?"

Lisa leaned up against the door leading out of the service corridor, peeking out. "Christ, you're persistent. Yeah, sure, I'd look at it. But I wouldn't commit to it unless I really thought it had a good chance of succeeding." She looked back around at me. "Because make no mistake, Coil doesn't play patty-cake. You cross him and lose, you either get a really sharp warning as to why you shouldn't – and I can't even pick out your chances of surviving that – or you end up with the same deal as me; work for him or eat a bullet."

"I understand, I really do." Holding up my phone, I continued, "So can I get your number so I can get back in contact with you?"

A smile quirked her mouth. "Okay, sure, kiddo." She recited her number and I entered it into my phone. "So, you got a name, or do I just call you 'kiddo'?"

I finished saving the number and looked back up at her. "Why don't I get back to you on that one." I need to check with Taylor on the wisdom of letting her know that. "For now, call me 'Management'."

Her smile widened; it was almost as if she'd read my mind. "Yeah, you got a point. I guess I'll see you around." Opening the door, she slipped out, closing it behind her. I leaned against it, realising for the first time that my heart was racing. Wow, that was just intense.

<><>​

Lisa

Brian looked around as I came up behind him. "Hey, where'd you get to? You just vanished."

I gave him my patented mischievous grin. "Sorry about that. I saw some stuff that I just had to check out. I knew you boys would be able to handle yourselves without me for just a few minutes."

"So what'd you steal?" That was Alec.

"Steal? I don't do that any more." I put on a carefully calculated look of wounded innocence. I wasn't very good at it, but that was all right; it wasn't supposed to convince them. "I can afford shit now."

"Yeah, but it's more fun to steal." I had to admit, Alec had a point.

"Which we don't want to be caught doing and maybe draw attention to ourselves." So did Brian. The party pooper. "Like you said, we can afford whatever we want. So no shoplifting."

"Even if it's for a really good cause?" I was just arguing for fun now.

"What cause would that be?" He wasn't.

"The cause of me proving I'm smarter than store security, duh."

"I think we've already proven that one." He'd figured out that I was teasing him; a reluctant smile was crossing his face now. "You don't need to rub it in."

"Fine. Be a spoilsport." Having successfully diverted attention from my disappearing act, I put the ball back in his court. "So what are we gonna do now? See a movie?"

The discussion moved on, but my thoughts were busy.

That 'Management' kid really thought she could cut me loose from Coil. If she can pull that off, I want to be in on that, but I'm not so sure that she can.

She seemed pretty sure of herself. And having a precog to back up your guesses has got to be useful. Actually, I wonder if Coil doesn't already have a precog he can call upon. It would make a lot of sense.

I'm just hoping that Management's plan is actually worth carrying out. Somehow, I think it might be. She doesn't strike me as someone who does things half-assed.

I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

<><>​

Taylor

"So, you all right?"

As I asked the question, I rolled the dice. Chances that Dinah has problems in the next half hour?

"Been better, been worse." Her voice came over the phone as the dice rolled to a stop. Seven point three four percent.

"That doesn't sound like a yes to me. Are you sure she's worth it?" I still remembered the massive cramp that had seized my hand and wrist when I went to roll the random number. So I had rolled the alphabet dice instead, with my other hand, ending up with the "she is being a bitch" message.

"Not a yes, not a no. You heard what she was saying about Coil, yeah? I'm gonna need you to run some numbers for me."

"Ready to roll."

"Okay then. What are the chances of retaliation from Coil if we just walk away right now?"

I rolled and checked the numbers. "Zero point four three one percent."

"Okay, she's not gonna tell him. Good. I didn't think so, but you never know." She took a breath. "Chances that we'll be successful in our chosen goals if Lisa joins us."

The dice rolled off of my hand. "Eighty-six point three percent."

"Right. Chances that we'll be successful if she doesn't join us?"

I regathered the dice and rolled them. "Sixty-one point nine percent."

"Shit. A twenty-five percent drop." She paused, I assumed, to think. "What are our chances of peacefully extracting Lisa from Coil's organisation?"

The dice clattered on the table. "Uh, four point one three percent."

"I was afraid of that. Chances of getting away with an extraction if we don't totally neutralise Coil in the process?"

I fixed the question in my mind as I rolled the dice. "Twenty-two point one percent."

"Dammit. Right. Chances of neutralising Coil and extracting Lisa with the resources we have at the moment?"

Now we were going down the rabbit hole. "Seventeen point five percent."

"Chances of being able to successfully neutralise Coil and recruit Lisa if we expand our operations?"

My hand cramped. "Uh, the dice won't roll on that one. Probably too many indeterminates."

"Okay, sorry. How about this one, then. Is Coil really a cape?"

For that one, I picked up three of the alphabet dice with my other hand. The clatter they made on the table was more definitive than the d10s. "Signs point to yes."

"Well, that's a start. Is Lisa correct in assuming that he's a probability manipulator?"

Clatter, clatter went the dice. I stared at the result. "Well, damn. I got a big fat NO here."

"Really?" I could hear the interest quicken in her voice. "Can you get a reading on what his powers really are?"

This one was gonna be a doozy. I picked up four alphabet dice, fully expecting to feel the paralysing pain of a cramp at any second. But the dice rolled off my hand smoothly and bounced on the table. I stared at the result, scribbled the letters down, then rolled again. Then I picked up the phone.

"Well, that's interesting. And by interesting, I mean terrifying."

"What? Why?"

"Direct quote from the dice. PRECOG."

"What, like you?"

"One second." I rolled the dice. "Uh, nope. Not like me."

"So he's got precognitive abilities that let him pretend to be a reality manipulator. That's really interesting. How would you pull something like that off?"

I thought about it. "Well, he's not omniscient. Otherwise he would already have warned us off. So maybe he's really good at asking 'what if' questions and seeing how scenarios play out. Then he does what he needs to do to make one particular scenario happen." Absently, I picked up the d10s again. Chances that I'm accurate with this guess? The dice clattered once more on the table. " … and that's eighty-one point six percent accurate."

"So mostly right, but with some factors that we don't know about yet."

"Yeah, basically."

"I have a question for you."

"What's that?"

"What are the chances of us taking down Coil and recruiting Lisa, now that we know more about his powers?"

"Ooh, interesting question." I recaptured the dice and rolled them. "Shit, they've gone up to thirty-one point three percent."

"Wow, they nearly doubled. Because now we know more about what his powers are."

"That's a huge jump. But still pretty low."

"Because we don't know anything else about him. How many men he's got, where his base is, anything like that. Plus, we don't have any heavy hitters. If we make just one mistake, we're dead."

"Okay, I've got a question."

"Shoot."

"Are we sticking with the original goal of 'recruit more members for the team' or focus on 'bringing down Coil so we can recruit Lisa'? Because it seems like we're aiming more for the latter, now."

She paused. " … that's a really good question. I'm gonna need to think about that. It's almost certain that we'll need to recruit more members before we're in the position of being able to take down Coil."

"Right. So it's a nested quest."

"Okay, you're going to have to explain that one."

"You get them in fantasy stories. Ann – a friend at school told me about them. Say you need a magical pendant to defeat the evil wizard. In order to get the blacksmith to create the magical pendant, you need to get the jewel that will go into the pendant from the giant that lives in the hills. In order to get the jewel from the giant, you need to deliver a flock of sheep for his afternoon meal. In order to get the sheep, you need to give the shepherd something. And so on."

"Oh, I get it. In order to get our eighty percent success rate, we need Lisa. In order to get Lisa, we need to take Coil out of the picture. In order to take Coil out of the picture, we need more recruits. Yeah?"

"Yeah, basically."

"Right. Okay, well, I'll keep looking."

"Keep me posted."

"Will do."

<><>​

The Next Day

"Okay, I never would have picked you as a rogue type," Annette observed. "Paladin, yeah. Fighter, maybe. Cleric, possibly. But rogue? That's kinda out of left field, isn't it?"

"Hey, she made a totally rockin' rogue," interjected Kay. I didn't comment; it felt weird talking about my character as a 'rogue' when I wanted to be a hero. But Kay was still talking. "I notice you went with point buy for your stats instead of rolling. How come? Most starting players prefer to roll."

I shrugged. "Oh, uh, it's something Annette told me about making a balanced character. This way I know I can place my numbers where I want them."

I was, of course, lying; as Dad had put it, the temptation of rolling whatever numbers I wanted for my character's attributes may have been too much. Until I knew I could keep it in check, I had decided to go with a less random system.

"Though I'm curious as to why you went with a half-elf instead of a halfling," Cameron noted as Kay slid my sheet back over the table to me. "Ever since Lord of the Rings came out, nearly everyone goes with halflings for rogues. It's kind of a trope."

"Oh, that's easy," I told him, trapping the sheet with my hand as an errant breeze threatened to blow it away. The tables outside were great for eating lunch, less so for leaving character sheets unattended. "If I'm going to be sneaking around in the dark and looking for stuff, I want that low-light vision thing as well as the perception bonus. Halflings don't get low-light vision. I checked."

"Really?" Kay frowned. "I was sure they did." She pointed at Cameron. "Your last halfling character did, I remember."

"No, no," Annette reminded her. "That was his dwarfling character in the Mountain Realms campaign. Remember?"

I frowned. "Dwarfling? I don't remember that race. Is that in a different book?"

"Hah, no." Annette grinned at me. "It was gonna be an all-dwarf game, but Cam wanted to play something different, so we let him make up a dwarf-halfling crossbreed."

"Yeah," Cameron supplied. "We've got the hybrid rules, so we worked out the stats. It was a kickass character."

I tried to envisage such a pairing. "It would be short, for sure," I ventured.

"Short and tough," agreed Annette. "But it got the job done." She nodded at my character sheet. "Well, we've got Krystara statted out and equipped. You understand what all the numbers mean?"

"Kind of, but not totally," I admitted.

"Ah, you'll be fine." Her grin was infectious. "Once we start play, you'll -"

At that moment, the bell went for the end of lunch break. A flash of motion overhead caught my eye, I looked upward. "What's that?"

Annette shaded her eyes against the sun. "Oh, that's Vicky and Amy. They probably went down to the Boardwalk for lunch or something." She made a rude noise, but sounded amused as she continued. "Showoffs."

"Wow," I commented as I carefully packed the character sheet away. I knew that she meant Victoria and Amy Dallon, otherwise known as Glory Girl and Panacea. Sisters, they were perhaps Arcadia's most famous attendees. "The Boardwalk isn't that close."

"Glory Girl can get up to seventy or eighty miles an hour, you know," Cameron informed me seriously. I detected the tone of a hardcore cape geek; it wasn't hard, because I was pretty much a cape geek myself.

"And just think, she doesn't have to worry about slowing down for corners or stopping at traffic lights," Annette added, just a little facetiously. "So yeah, she can cover distance pretty quickly if she has to."

"Huh." A thought struck me and I picked up my three d10s; we hadn't been rolling them seriously, but somehow they had found their way on to the table. Without saying a word, I rolled them.

"Hey, you want to get all that packed away," Kay advised me. "The teachers don't mind if we game down here, but if we linger after the bell, we're in trouble."

"Coming, coming," I told her, scooping up my dice and dropping them into the bag, then tightening the drawstring and stowing it in my backpack.

Chatting among themselves, the others headed back inside. I went with them, but didn't contribute much to the conversation; my thoughts were occupied with the roll I had just made. The question I had asked myself on the spur of the moment was, chances that Glory Girl or Panacea would be interested in joining our superhero team?

And the answer had been fifty-one point three percent.

That can't mean both of them, I decided. So one of them has to be interested in leaving New Wave. I wonder who.

<><>​

"Hey, wait up a second."

Annette looked around. "Taylor, hey." Her welcoming smile gave me the impression that I was the one person she'd been wanting to see. "You lost? Need a hand finding your way around?"

I gestured with the school map I was carrying in my hand. "No, I'm good. For the moment."

"So what's up?" She checked her watch. "You don't want to be late for class."

"No, I'll make this quick." I paused, trying to figure out how to say it. "You know how you were named after your mom's best friend?"

Annette nodded. "Yeah?"

I took a deep breath. "My mom's name was Annette. Annette Rose Hebert. Anne-Rose. I think she might've been your mom's friend."

Her eyes went wide. "Holy shit, that's awesome! Our moms were besties!"

"I'm not a hundred percent sure," I told her, "but … "

"No." She stared at me. "Is your dad's name Danny?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah." I nodded. "That's him."

"Oh. Oh, wow!" She grabbed me; I felt myself being squeezed tightly. "This is so awesome! I can't wait to tell Mom!"

"Uh, it might get a bit awkward," I cautioned her. "Just so you know."

"Awkward?" She let me go so she could see my face. "Why awkward?"

I shrugged, feeling more than a little awkward myself. "Uh … Dad says that when he met them, my mom and yours were … uh, kind of seeing each other."

"Hah, that's not awkward." She rolled her eyes. "Relationships are normal and natural. That's what Mom always says." She grinned. "You wait; she'll ask us if we're interested in each other."

I stared. "You're shitting me."

"I shit you not." Another flashing grin. "It's okay; I'll tell her we're not serious." Before I could even think of how to respond to that, she checked her watch again. "Whoops, gotta go. See you later." Off she dashed, leaving me with one thought uppermost in my mind.

What the fuck just happened?

<><>​

Dinah

"You have to be kidding." I held the phone tightly to my ear. "Panacea?"

"You heard me. I flipped a coin." Taylor's voice was definite; I could hear it through the phone line. "Glory Girl was heads, Panacea was tails, and I got tails."

"Wow, holy shit, Panacea is unhappy with where she was, enough to want to maybe leave her team?"

"That's what the dice said. Of course, they didn't tell me exactly why. Or at least, not yet. I mean, I only just got home, so I decided to call you."

"Well, fifty-one percent is pretty marginal." I gnawed on a fingernail. "It's nowhere near enough to make a good pitch and hope that she takes me up on it."

"I was thinking." Taylor's voice was contemplative. "Maybe the fifty-one percent is because New Wave is an established team and we don't have costumes, a name, anything. It's one thing to be recruited into a new team. It's another to step into a group that hasn't even thought of a name yet."

"That's – you're right. It's exactly right." In my mind, I changed the goal for the job at hand, from 'recruit new members' to 'recruiting Panacea'; one of the steps in the plan was now to get the team established, give us costumes, a team name, an air of legitimacy. "Doing that would make it a lot more likely that she'd come across."

"So how do we do that?"

"One thing at a time, Taylor. One thing at a time." I curbed my own excitement. "If we're going to recruit Panacea, we need Lisa on the team." That was the other thing my power had told me. "Her insights would be really useful to us, there. Give us an idea of how to approach her."

"Okay, so to get Panacea, we need Lisa. To get Lisa, we need … who?"

"Still working on that one." I paused. "Actually, what if you made a list of the parahumans in the Bay, and rolled off against each one, to see who'd be interested in joining?"

"Leaving out the ones we don't want in the team, I hope?" Her voice was slightly sarcastic.

"Yeah, leaving them out." I grimaced. Some people we just did not want in the team.

"I can do it. It'll take me a while."

"Don't push yourself too hard. It's only our second day."

A snort. "Yeah, yeah. I'll let you know what I come up with."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

After I ended the call, I got up and wandered into the kitchen to make myself a peanut butter sandwich. Taylor was not the only one working hard; I had a job to do myself.

After all, our budding superhero team wasn't just going to name itself.


End of Part Five

Part Six

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Six: The Plot Thickens


Kayden wanted to swear as she wrestled with the shopping cart on her way out of the supermarket. As opposed to the norm, where the cart had one wonky wheel, she had somehow managed to find one with four wheels, all of which insisted on trying to roll in different directions. On top of that, Aster was fussing and Kayden couldn't give her the full attention that she demanded, causing her to fuss all the more.

There was a mild slope in the parking lot and the cart, despite its previous inclination to not want to go anywhere without a great amount of shoving and determination, now decided that it wanted to roll downhill, away from Kayden's car and toward a very expensive-looking BMW. Three times she hauled it back and placed it in a different orientation and three times it managed to line up its wheels and make an escape attempt.

The temper and frustration building in Kayden matched and then surpassed Aster's own. Were it not for her secret identity, she was becoming more and more tempted to blast the shopping cart to very small pieces; groceries be damned. At the very least, she was definitely going to go out after she got Theo over, and find some ABB drug house to take out her irritation on. There won't be much more than a crater left …

"Excuse me, ma'am? Can I help?"

She looked around in surprise; a young girl, twelve or thirteen at best, was standing next to her cart, steadying it. At first, Kayden suspected a potential thief, but the girl was well dressed and her hands were holding the outside of the cart.

"Oh, if you could, that would be wonderful," Kayden told the girl. "Thank you so much."

"That's all right," the girl said with a smile. "I've seen my mom having trouble with these things as well. You end up needing about four extra arms and without powers, that's a little difficult." Her smile morphed into an infectious grin.

How little you know. "You have a very good point. Okay, Aster, come on." Kayden lifted the infant from the shopping cart. "If you could please hold it while I get her into the car?"

"No problems at all. My name's Dinah."

"Kayden." Leaning into the car, she put Aster into the baby seat. In the cool of the shade and with the comfortable surrounds of the seat, Aster began to settle down. Kayden smiled and kissed her gently on the forehead, eliciting a gurgle of happiness. At that moment, she wouldn't have cared if the girl had intended to make a run for it with the groceries; just being able to get this part sorted out was almost worth it.

But when she straightened up, Dinah was still patiently holding the cart. Maybe she really does just want to help.

"So are these going in the back seat or the trunk?"

"In the trunk, I think." Kayden reached into the front of the car to pop the trunk lid and then helped Dinah move the cart around to the back. "I really do appreciate the assistance."

"That's okay," Dinah said as she began to hand Kayden the bags. She even managed to do it in the order that Kayden preferred, without having to ask. "But to be honest, I do have an ulterior motive. There's something I'd like from you."

Kayden stopped and gave her a hard glare. So she does want something. "What?"

"Five minutes of your time, once we're done here." Dinah's expression was polite and open. "It's got nothing to do with money or anything illegal. You're under no obligation to say yes. And," she chuckled, "no, I'm not with Amway. Or anything like that. I just need to say something, then ask you a question. Fair enough?"

Kayden considered that. "And if I say right now that I'm going to say no, no matter what?"

"Then I keep helping you load groceries, then put the cart away and go my own way," Dinah replied imperturbably. "Like I said, no obligation."

She had to admit, Dinah had a good selling technique. No pressure, ready to back off at a moment's notice. It made her honestly curious about what the girl had to say.

"So it's not Girl Scout cookies then?" Her question was more to do with idle chat than actual information gathering.

"No. Although I am actually in the Scouts," Dinah answered readily enough. "It's way more important than that."

This only piqued Kayden's growing curiosity. She took the last few bags from Dinah and watched the girl trundle the cart away toward the collection area. How she managed to make it roll so smoothly, Kayden wasn't so sure; maybe it was because there was nothing in it.

"Okay," Kayden said once Dinah returned. "What's so important that you were willing to help me load groceries to talk to me about?"

Dinah glanced around. Nobody was really nearby, but she frowned anyway. "Can we sit in the car?" she asked. "More private that way."

Suspicions began to surface once more, but Kayden held her peace. If she thinks she can carjack me, she's in for a very rude surprise. "Okay, let's do that." It was, after all, a very small concession.

<><>​

Once in the car, with the windows wound up, Kayden turned to Dinah. "You have your privacy. Let's hear what you have to say."

"Thank you." Dinah nodded to her. "It's simple. I want to recruit you."

The words hung in the air for several beats while Kayden tried to puzzle them out. "I'm missing something here," she eventually admitted. "Recruit me for what? Who are you?"

"To answer your questions in reverse order," Dinah replied carefully, "I'm a parahuman. I'm forming a team and I would like you to be a part of it."

Kayden's thoughts raced. If she's asking me to be a part of her team, whatever that team is, it means that she knows who I am. As she tensed up, her voice went very quiet so as not to disturb Aster. "I think you'd better explain yourself very quickly. Leave nothing out. Including how you know what you know."

To her credit, Dinah did not show any sign of fear. "As I said, I'm a parahuman. Specifically, my power allows me to figure out the perfect person for a specific job and how the job can be done most efficiently. If I have a job in mind, my power will point out people and give me information about their capabilities, specifically to do with the job at hand."

"Including whether or not people have powers," Kayden filled in.

"If having powers would help with doing the job, yes," Dinah agreed.

"And you were looking for people who could do the job of being a member of your team."

"Well, specifically, I was looking for heavy hitters," came the surprising confession. "We've already got Thinkers and we're looking to get a healer type, but we're light on throw weight."

"And you just chose to walk up to the first flying Blaster you saw." Kayden raised her eyebrows. "Pretty ballsy. You're not even out of middle school, are you?" A thought struck her. "Please tell me you're not the oldest member of your team."

"No, the youngest. But I'm the best organiser by far." Dinah grinned at her. "I'm twelve. That's young, I know. But powers happen when powers happen."

"This is true," sighed Kayden, recalling her own trigger event. Even though it had happened more than ten years previously, it was still vivid in her mind. If her powers hadn't manifested, she would have died of thirst, trapped in her crashed car. "Okay, so how did you know that I wouldn't react badly?"

"Because my power tells me that you at least have the temperament to think about it. As for specifics, I have a friend who can give me a percentage chance that you'll hear me out and accept it."

"One of these other Thinkers you were talking about, right." Kayden rubbed her chin. "Okay, so you really didn't know who I was before you approached me."

"I knew your powerset, so I could guess fairly easily who you were, given that you're not Lady Photon," Dinah agreed. "But no, I didn't know your name."

"Okay," Kayden decided. "This is not me saying yes, but here's a hypothetical. If I joined, would I get to have my own agenda in the team or would you be deciding the team goals?"

"It would depend on that agenda," Dinah replied frankly. "We're aiming to be superheroes, so nothing illegal." She looked at Kayden questioningly. "What agenda are you referring to?"

"It's the ABB," Kayden said. "I've been trying to whittle them down for months, but every time I think I'm getting somewhere, more pop up." Despite her best efforts, the frustration showed in her voice. "I just don't know where I'm going wrong."

"Wow," Dinah exclaimed, softly so as to not wake Aster, who was dozing. "It sounds like you could do with the help of a Thinker or two, to figure out where to hit and to organise matters so you do it most efficiently. Now I wonder where you could find someone like that?"

Kayden blinked. "You could do that? You would do that?"

Dinah shrugged. "They're villains. We want to be heroes. And there's not much use in recruiting someone to be the heavy hitter if you're not happy in your work."

"So wait," Kayden stated, trying to keep the newfound note of excitement out of her voice, "you could define 'bringing down the ABB' as a task and let your power figure out how to best get it done? It's that easy?"

"Well, first I'd have to find and recruit the right people but … hmm." Dinah paused for a moment. "My power's saying that you're definitely one of the right people for the job. But I'd need more information about how they operate, where they operate and so on. On the upside, for this we'd need Thinkers; we already have one and we're looking to bring another on board." She gave Kayden a broad smile. "So yeah, we can really do this."

"And you'd have no problem with me going after Asians?" asked Kayden, probing the idea like a tongue would a loose tooth. "I'm trying to cut ties with the Empire Eighty-Eight, but people see me attacking the ABB and seem to think it's a racial thing."

Dinah gave her a frank, open look. "You were a member of a racist gang for ten years and that stuff sticks, whether you like it or not. People are gonna see what they want to see. Trust me, it's schoolyard politics all over again. The point is, these Asians are criminals so I don't see the problem. Just so long as you've got no problem with going after white crooks as well … ?" She let the question hang in the air.

"Oh, I've got no problem with that," Kayden assured her. "Though it might get a little awkward if we went up against members of the Empire."

"I can see that," Dinah agreed. "We'll do our best to avoid that, okay?"

"I like that idea," Kayden said, then paused. "So, about team leadership."

"I know what you're going to say," Dinah stated. "I'm young but you've got the experience. Well, we can work with that. I'm good at directing operations but I'm not a front-line fighter. How about I tell you what needs doing and I leave the actual how it gets done to you, with maybe a few suggestions from my power for more efficiency." She shrugged. "As far as I can tell, you already know how to use your powers, so I won't be telling you anything new."

Kayden blinked. One of the reasons she had split from the Empire was Kaiser's need to be in total control all the time. Dinah seemed aware of her own limitations and was willing to give her a free rein in how she did things. In return, she would have the chance to be a hero and take down the ABB in the process. Two birds, one stone. Do I really want to even think about saying no?

"I … well, I can't see a problem with the idea as it is," she confessed. "But can I think about it and get back to you?" She gestured with her head toward the back seat. "With Aster in the equation, I really have to think everything through first. Her needs come before mine, every time."

Dinah grinned. "Well, that's another benefit of joining the team. More potential babysitters."

And Theo could do with friends of his own age. "It's definitely sounding more and more attractive by the moment." Kayden took a breath. "But I still have to think it over. Do you have a -"

"- phone number? Sure." Dinah held out the card to her. On it was written "MANAGEMENT". Below the name was a number. "Take your time. We don't want to rush into this."

"Thanks. I appreciate this."

Dinah nodded. "And thanks for taking the time to listen to me." She opened the car door and began to get out. "I hope you take my offer up. We really do need you."

You already know I will, you little wiseass, Kayden thought with a mental smirk. This is just for appearances, and we both know it. "We'll see," she added out loud.

The car door closed. As Kayden watched the slim form walk away, the mental smile became a physical one. We'll talk again really soon, kid.

<><>​

Danny looked up at the knock on the door. "Taylor, were you expecting someone?"

"Uh, no." Taylor turned from where she'd been rolling dice at the kitchen table. She closed the exercise book where she'd been noting the information she was getting. "Not that I know of." Picking up the dice, she rolled. "Huh. It's Annette."

Danny froze in the act of getting off the sofa. "What, your friend from school? The one whose mom is -"

The knock came again. "Yeah, that's who it is," Taylor said. She headed into the front hall.

"Did you invite them over?" Danny felt as though events were going too fast for him. I'm not ready for this. "You could have warned me."

"Dad, come on. I'm sure it'll be fine." Reaching the door, Taylor opened it.

"Taylor!" A redheaded whirlwind blitzed in through the open door, wrapping Taylor in a spontaneous hug and spinning her around. "Wow, I love your house, it's so awesome. Hey, is this your dad? Hi, Mr Hebert! I've heard so much about you, it's good to meet you."

"Uh, hello, Annette," Danny replied cautiously. She looks so much like her mom. "Taylor's said a lot of good things about you. I'm pleased to meet you too. Uh, is your mother -"

"Right here, Danny." Andrea spoke from the doorway, causing his heart to freeze momentarily. Dear God, her voice hasn't changed a bit. Swallowing hard, he turned to face the door. The intervening years had quite failed to dim the sparkle in her green eyes or the life in her expression; Danny lapped up both without meaning to. But where to go from here?

She seemed to be having the same problem; her voice was almost tentative as she spoke. "Got a hug for an old friend?"

She was only about five feet tall; when she wrapped her arms around Danny, her head rested against his chest. He held her tightly, not knowing what to say, but it was too awkward to stand there in silence. Someone had to break the ice. "My God, Andrea … it's been so long. Where were you?" And where were you when I needed you, after Anne-Rose died?

Her grip around him tightened, as though she had read his mind. It wouldn't be the first time. She didn't meet his eyes as she spoke, which was unlike her. "I'm really sorry, Danny. I was working in Boston. I always meant to come back to Brockton Bay to see you and Anne-Rose again, and I should have. Sooner. A lot sooner." For the first time, she peeked up at him. "Forgive me?"

By way of answer, he grinned down at her. Of course I do. "You had a girl, I see." From the noises coming from upstairs, Taylor was taking Annette on a tour of the house. "She's very like you."

"Thank you, Danny," she said with a snort; she surreptitiously wiped one eye. "Taylor's a lot like you too." Pulling his head down to hers, she planted a quick kiss on his lips. "Yoink!"

Yyyup, that's Andrea all right. "Wow, okay, what was that for?"

"Oh, just something I promised myself I'd do when I saw you again." She tilted her head with the old familiar grin. "Well, I said I'd kiss Anne-Rose, but given the circumstances, you're the next best thing." They gravitated toward the sofa; he wasn't quite sure who was doing the leading. "So, you're killing me here. How's things going with you? Taylor seems to be a nice girl. She's certainly inherited your attitude toward sex. Annette says she's made a couple of passes and Taylor never even noticed. Did Anne-Rose actually get to talk to her about sex?"

Danny felt his brain seize up. "I, uh, no, that is, uh, Taylor, I, I mean -"

Andrea laughed, high and free and clear. "Oh god, you gave her the Talk, didn't you? Now, let me guess. It went along the lines of 'you can't have sex till I'm dead'. Or something like that, yeah?"

"No." Danny's face was red and getting redder by the second. She could always do this to him. "But I made sure that she knew to be careful -"

"Pfft. Careful, schmareful. Don't get pregnant, don't catch an STD. Those were my only rules. Well," she rolled her eyes toward the chattering going on from upstairs. "I kind of accidentally broke one of them. Fortunately, it was the one I got something good out of. So I named her after the other best thing that ever happened to me."

Reminded of Anne-Rose, Danny went silent. Andrea wrapped her arms around him. "Danny, I'm really sorry. I just didn't hear about it until really recently. It hit me really hard, so the first chance I got to request a transfer to Brockton Bay, I did. But then I didn't even know if you'd want to see me again. Until Annette came home talking about her new friend Taylor Hebert and how she thought I'd been sleeping with her mom. And then I told myself not to be such a fucking wimp and came on over."

"Wow." Danny shook his head. "I never thought you were scared of anything."

She leaned her head against his chest as a thundering herd descended the stairs then went along the front hall. From the sounds of it, they then headed down into the basement. "I just never let it show. And I was terrified of turning up on your doorstep and you not wanting to see me. That would have been too much to take."

His arms went around her in turn. "I'm always glad to see you, Andrea."

"Good." The impish look was back in her eye as she reached up and kissed him again. "And that one was for you. Because I still don't know why you never slept with me in all the time I knew you."

He felt himself flushing again. "Because I was married," he explained patiently. "To Anne-Rose. Your best friend. I wasn't going to do that to her."

"You do realise that you two never got married while I knew you, right? And that she slept with me at least three times before you two got really serious?" Andrea's eyes were bright with mischief. "If you had offered to sleep with me, she would have joined in. The only reason she didn't suggest a threesome herself is that I guess she thought you'd say no."

"I -" Danny stopped; he literally did not know how to go on from that. The revelation that Anne-Rose had slept with Andrea while they were dating was a surprise but not a huge one, knowing the both of them. What am I gonna do? Get mad, fifteen years after the fact? "That can't be right. Surely we were married -"

"Not while I knew you." She grinned at him. "Must've been around the same time you knocked her up with Taylor. Which was around the same time I, uh, left. So another excuse, please?"

Options flashed through his mind. I was kind of a prude and I didn't know how to get past that? I didn't know she wanted to as well? I was a total idiot? Finally, he settled on what seemed safest. "I don't know what I would have said." Probably no. Because I was an idiot.

Andrea rolled her eyes. "When you're faced with a situation like that, there's only one answer that's applicable. And it's not 'let me think about that and get back to you in twenty years'."

"I'm sorry. I was an idiot." The words popped out of his mouth before he had a chance to rethink them.

"Yeah, well, there's a lot of that going around." She smiled kindly and put her hand to his cheek. "I should have come back a lot sooner, but there was Annette and my job and I kind of let that get in the way of more important things. Like maintaining friendships."

He tilted his head. "You say that like Annette and your job had something to do with each other. I mean, Anne-Rose and I didn't even know you were pregnant. One day you just left town with barely any kind of explanation. What happened?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Met a guy while I was out and about one night. I liked the look of him, he liked the look of me, he bought me drinks, and we woke up at my place. He was only a kid, really, just out of high school and starting at his dad's company. I mean, I was happy to keep it casual, but he wasn't a 'casual' sort of guy. Very fixated on what he wanted and what he wanted was me. So when I got pregnant – and I'm not entirely sure he didn't do that on purpose – he pulled me in front of his dad and said he wanted to get married."

Danny blinked, fascinated. "What happened?"

She snorted. "His dad hit the roof. Read him the riot act, tore off a strip ten feet wide. Told me in no uncertain terms that no gold-digging hussy was gonna get a piece of his company. I yelled right back at him, told him I didn't want it. Made sure he knew it was his kid's idea and not mine. I would've been happy just going along as I was."

"I bet that went down well."

"Actually, it went kind of better than I expected," she said thoughtfully. "He sent his kid out of the room and asked me a few questions about my education, then moved me to Boston and put me into a job at a subsidiary firm that he owned, on the firm condition that I'd never make any claim to his kid, the company or the family name. With the unspoken but absolutely agreed-on kind of understanding that I wouldn't come back to Brockton Bay any time soon. Which I was an idiot to agree to, but he was kind of scary, you know? The sort of guy who's a legitimate businessman but you can tell there's more going on under the surface."

"Holy shit." Danny stared at her. "That actually happened? Who was this, anyway? Who was the guy who did this to you? And how come you're back?"

"Oh, the guy died years ago," Andrea said cheerfully. "By that time I was kind of settled in the job and had Annette to care for. But when I got the chance to come on back, especially once I heard what had happened to Anne-Rose, I came back." She paused. "As for who he was, like I said, he died years ago, but the kid's still around. Running his dad's company now, actually. He got married a few years ago, so I'm pretty sure I'm just one of those mildly embarrassing memories that you wish you could forget about your college years." She paused. "Well, you guys wish you could forget, anyway. Me, I relish them. Best time of my life."

"Yeah, I don't think I could forget that about you," Danny agreed ruefully. "But the kid's now in charge of the company?"

"Yeah," she said. "You probably know of him. He's kind of a big wheel. His name's Max, Max Anders. And I'm still working for him, in a roundabout way. So yeah, I was my boss' college fling. Yay me."

<><>​

"So what do you think they're talking about?" Taylor asked as Annette poked curiously about the old workbench in the basement.

"Don't know, don't care," was the casual answer. "Mom'll tell me if she thinks I need to know. Or if I ask. Think he'll start sleeping with her?"

"Annette!" Taylor stared at her friend, her cheeks heating. "What the hell sort of question is that?"

"Just a question," Annette said cheerfully. "I mean, does he have someone else?"

"No!" Taylor realised that she'd spoken too sharply. "I mean, sorry, no, he doesn't. Not since Mom died."

"So what's the problem? Him and Mom already know each other, so that's out of the way. They were pretty good friends back in the day. She likes him and I think he likes her, so why make it harder than it has to be?"

"God, you can't just come out with questions like that." Taylor's face felt as though it was going to catch on fire. Annette's questions, as innocent as they sounded, were not something she was ready for.

"Why not?" Annette grinned at her. "It saves all kinds of confusion if you can ask a straight question and get a straight answer. That's what Mom always says, anyway."

"But not about … about that." Taylor wanted to hide her face in her hands. Instead, she stared fixedly at the cover over the old coal chute. If I levered that off, maybe I could hide in there until she went away …

"But why not?" Annette's voice was persistent.

"Because you don't, that's all." Taylor knew that the answer was inadequate in the extreme, but she couldn't think of a better one.

"Okay, so here's another one. Did you know that I actually think you're kinda hot?"

It was right about then that Taylor's brain exploded. Dimly, over the roaring in her ears, she heard Annette ask, "Uh, Taylor?"

Suddenly able to move again, she swung back toward Annette. "What. No. You did not just say that." She was pretty sure that her blush was all the way down to her shoulders by now.

Annette seemed to be enjoying herself hugely. "Well, duh. Remember when I told you I'd tell Mom we were only casual? That was me giving you the chance to say something. And other times I've left it open for you to make a move on me. But you just aren't wired to notice that sort of thing, are you?"

"Annette." Taylor was very proud of her self-control. She would really rather be shouting or screaming or hiding under the workbench, but instead she spoke carefully and steadily.

"Yes?"

"Let's please not talk about this any more. Ever again. Okay?"

Annette's sigh was almost disappointed. "Okay, fine. But you know, all you had to say was no, you're not interested. I would've dropped it."

"No." Taylor forced the words out. "Not interested."

"But we can still be friends?"

Taking a long breath, Taylor nodded. "Yes. Still friends."

"Yay!" Happily, Annette hugged her.

Reluctantly, Taylor hugged her back, not wanting Annette to think that she was totally rejecting her. A thought struck her; she really didn't want to raise the topic, but if she didn't ask now, she knew she never would. Not that I'm certain that I want to know. "So …"

"So?" asked Annette brightly.

"Have you, uh, made moves on anyone else in the group?"

Annette raised an eyebrow cheerfully. "Sure you want to know?"

No. "Yes."

"Well, yeah, okay. I've gone out with Cam a few times. He's nice, but once he and Kay met, they've been more interested in each other than in branching out. Kay's got this whole rock-solid hetero vibe going on, so she's a non-starter."

"Oh." Well, that was about as frank as it gets. "Have you and Cam, uh …"

Annette grinned at her. "You don't really want to know that, do you?"

Abruptly, Taylor's nerve gave way. "No. No, I don't."

"Then nothing happened between us." Annette's voice was firm. Taylor didn't trust it for a moment.

However, it did give her a much-needed out from the hole she had dug for herself. "Good. Now let us never speak of this again."

Annette shrugged. "Okay."

"In fact, we didn't even talk about this at all."

Annette's expression said loud and clear that she thought Taylor was making too much of this, but she shrugged and agreed once more. "Okay."

"Good." While Annette watched with mild interest. Taylor took a deep breath, trying to regather her scattered composure. "So, uh, what do we talk about now?"

Annette's expression became impish. "Well, I guess a discussion of the literary merits of Fifty Shades of of Grey is off the table?"

This time, Taylor did cover her ears with her hands. "No. God no." Taking her hands away again, she stared at Annette. "Please tell me you haven't actually read that."

"Well, no, not seriously. But Mom did recommend it as a primer for how not to do bondage."

"Not even going to ask. Just nope." Taylor took a deep breath. "Okay, how about the second Star Wars movie? Gonna be going to see that when it comes out?"

"Sure. Wanna come with?"

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "Only if you don't discuss the potential sex lives of the characters on screen."

Annette rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine, we'll do it the boring way." She gave Taylor another spontaneous hug. "This'll be so much fun."

Taylor's voice was dry. "I think the fun for you is how much you can shock people."

Annette blinked and spread her hands, as if the point was obvious. "Well, duh."

<><>​

"Yeah, it has been a while, hasn't it? Last we saw each other, you had all your hair." Andrea's voice was teasing but the smile on her face was genuine. She raised her hand to his cheek; it lingered there a moment before smoothing back the thinning hair on his scalp.

"Lots of things have changed." His voice was unintentionally gruff. "A lot of water under the bridge. Taylor … Anne-Rose …"

"I am so sorry for not being here for you when that happened." Her voice was soft.

He gave a half-shrug, his eyes not quite meeting hers. "It happened. We survived. Mostly."

"So, are you seeing anyone?" she asked directly.

Danny hesitated. "I -"

"Well, of course not." She rolled her eyes. "Danny Hebert, I love you dearly but you're such a typical male. I bet you haven't even considered dating again, have you?"

Whether or not she intended for her tone to be quite that scathing, she certainly succeeded. "I, uh. I've been busy, and Taylor -"

"Taylor is a big girl," she informed him dryly. "She'll know you're not trying to replace Anne-Rose in your heart or hers. But we all need companionship and I'm sure she'd be thrilled to see you getting out and about, having fun instead of working yourself to a frazzle every day."

"I, uh, I've had no real time -"

"Then make time." Grabbing him as though he were a rag doll instead of an adult man, she shook him vigorously. "You need to go out, meet people, have sex. Getting laid at least once a week has amazing health bonuses. All those endorphins running around in your system. You'll sleep better, be more alert at work, and you'll feel a hell of a lot better too."

"I, uh -" He hesitated. "Are you trying to tell me you want to sleep with me?"

"Well finally the penny drops," she exclaimed, though the grin on her face took the sting out of the words. "I was just trying to make sure you didn't have something lined up with someone else. But apparently don't, so yes. I am telling you exactly that."

"What, here? Now?" Events were outrunning his brain again.

Her grin became downright suggestive. "Well, we could if you wanted to. But I've got places to be, so if you're not in the mood right now, we can stick a pin in that." Delving into her bag, she scribbled on a piece of paper. "My number. Call me up sometime, and Annette and I can come over for a sleepover."

He hesitated. "Won't she know -"

"That I'm coming over to have sex with you? Well, yes. Will she care? Not at all. Except maybe to give points for style if we're too noisy."

He hesitated. "If this is none of my business, please tell me right now, but is she -"

"Having sex?" Andrea paused. "To be honest, I make it my business not to know. I mean, she knows about sex. When I gave her the Talk, I gave her the Talk."

Danny shuddered to think about it. Knowing Andrea, the Talk probably involved instructive filmclips. Annette was almost certainly far more informed about sex than he had been at that age. "Yeah, I had figured that much," he agreed.

Andrea nodded. "So yeah, I filled her in on all the important details, then made sure she knew exactly what my rules were and why I had them. Then I arranged for birth control, and let her go her own way." She shrugged. "I presume she has, but if so, she's been discreet about it. No pregnancies, no medical visits for other reasons. So that seems to be working out."

"And that was far more information than I needed," he said. "A simple 'yes', 'no' or 'not sure' would have sufficed. Anyway. Will it be weird if she's made a pass and Taylor's turned her down?" He refused to think about the possibility of Annette making a pass and Taylor not turning her down. I'll cross that bridge if I come to it, and not a moment before.

"Shouldn't be," Andrea decided. "It never got weird between us, did it?"

"Well, no more than normal," he agreed.

"So you'll call me sometime?" she pressed, eyes bright.

Reluctantly, not knowing even why he was being reluctant, he nodded. "Yeah. I will."

"Yay!" She grabbed him and kissed him again. This time, he kissed her back.

<><>​

Danny set the stove on low and turned around. "Taylor?"

"Mmm?" She looked up from the exercise book and the dice.

"You look like you want to ask me a question. In fact, you've had that look on your face ever since they left."

"I … oh god." She took her glasses off and buried her face in her hands; her voice came out somewhat muffled. "I don't even know where to begin."

His was somewhat amused. "Not an uncommon reaction when dealing with Andrea Campbell, I've found."

"And Annette. Her too. Trust me." Moving her hands from over her face, she locked them together in the hair on top of her head, looking down at the table. "I don't even know how to begin to process what happened between us."

He pulled out a chair and sat down on the other side of the table. "So talk to me about it. Or did things happen that you aren't comfortable talking about?"

Looking up at him, she flushed slightly. "You mean, did she make a pass at me? Yeah, she did. Did anything more happen? Nope. I turned her down."

"And how did she take it?" His voice was as neutral as he could make it.

The slightest shrug. "She … took it really well, actually. Wanted to know if we were still friends. We talked about other stuff then. It didn't come up again."

"So are you still friends?" There was no judgement, no pressure in his tone.

She took a deep breath. "Yeah. I guess. There's no getting over the fact that this sort of thing does make things just a bit weird. I mean, your best friend telling you she -" She coughed, then steeled herself, "- she thinks you're hot? I mean, how do you even get past that?" Her eyes were on the table again.

"You just do." His tone was firm. "I learned to, years ago, with her mother."

That got a reaction; her eyes jerked upward to meet his. Without her glasses, they were still slightly unfocused, but she did it anyway. "What?"

He smiled wryly. "Andrea's always been that way. Very open, especially about who she was attracted to and, well, stuff like that."

"Uh, yeah, I saw that with Annette," she agreed. "Boy, did I see that."

The smile became a chuckle. "No, you saw the watered down version. Andrea in college was like the Andrea you met, only with the brakes off and full steam ahead."

She blinked a couple of times. "Holy shit."

"Yeah. That was kind of my reaction, many times."

She took a deep breath. "Annette seems to really enjoy shocking people. Is that …"

" … what Andrea does?" He shook his head. "She just doesn't care about other people's judgement of her actions. She does what she does. As far as she's concerned," he coughed, "uh, sleeping with people is just something that happens. It's what people do. There's no need for hangups or emotional scenes."

"Wow. And we left you alone with her." She gave him a searching look. "Can I ask what happened between you two? Or don't I want to know? You looked a bit shell-shocked when we got back upstairs."

He looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, yeah, it was a bit of a shock to the system to have all her attention on me for the first time in years. She's very direct. I'd kind of forgotten that."

"And?" The question was asked reluctantly.

He took a deep breath. "And, well, yes. I'll be seeing more of her. In fact, she might be coming over sometime, to, uh, stay the night. And bringing Annette for a sleepover. If that's okay?"

"Wait." Taylor's voice was flat. "Annette's mom is going to be staying the night. With you."

He cringed slightly. "I, uh, yes?" A long pause. "I mean, I did love your mother and all, I still do, but it has been more than two years, and Andrea kind of reminded me that I do have needs, and -"

"Ew. Okay. Please stop talking now." Taylor made a 'time-out' gesture. "I do not need to hear about your 'needs'."

"Okay. Sorry. Fine. But is it okay if …"

"... if Annette's mom comes over to spend the night?"

"If they both come over. Annette has a sleepover, and well they both do, I guess." His forced levity tried to make it into a joke, and failed.

"And you're asking my permission." She put her glasses on so that she could see him clearly. "Is that what you're doing?"

He looked more than a little hunted. "Uh … yes?"

She took a long moment to consider that. "Well. Um."

"Uh -"

"Sh. Still thinking about it."

She let him hang for a few moments longer, then spoke, carefully and considering every word. "Annette's my friend. It is gonna be a little bit weird between us, but she's still my friend. My best friend, really. She was the first one to help me out at Arcadia and she's been nothing but nice to me. Even if she is attracted to me. Which I'm still having a hard time processing."

Her father looked at her, waiting for her to go on. Finally, she nodded. "So yeah, I think having a sleepover might help. Let me come to terms with how things are. And if Annette can have a sleepover, then … well, everything you said is true. And I like her mom. She's really nice. So yeah." She gave him a warning look. "It's not gonna be any less weird for all of that, but I can accept that."

"Thank you. I appreciate it." He turned back toward the stove.

"Uh, Dad?"

He turned back. "Yeah?"

"One more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Is this likely to be a permanent thing? I mean, am I expected to call her 'mom'? Because I don't think I can do that."

Hastily, he shook his head. "No, no. Andrea doesn't do permanent. And she won't expect that. And I won't either."

She took a deep breath. "Good. Well, I can accept that." A pause. "When's this likely to happen?"

"When I finally get up the nerve to do it."

She chuckled. "Yeah, well, give me warning before you do. So I can get used to the idea too. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Thanks." She went back to the exercise book.

He sighed. "It'll be good having them in our lives, I think. Andrea was always fun for me and Anne-Rose to be around. And at least there won't be any awkward complications. Andrea's about the most uncomplicated person I know."

"Don't I know it," she agreed ruefully. "Annette's so straightforward you could use her as a ruler."

He tasted the stew. "Well, what with your superhero activities, it'll be good to have something uncomplicated to deal with around here."

She stuck out her tongue at him.

<><>​

Max Anders sat in his office, staring at his computer screen. On it, a name stared back at him, on a list of transfers between his subsidiary companies. It was a name he had almost forgotten, but one that brought back memories of a simpler time, a happier time. An infectious laugh, flashing green eyes and a riot of red curly hair. His first true love.

I always wondered how Father managed to make her disappear so completely. He hid her inside Medhall.

She had been the first thing, the first person, he had truly wanted. And his father had taken her away from him. She wasn't a member of the Empire, so she had been deemed to be not a suitable match for him.

Well, now I'm in charge.

And I want her back.


End of Part Six

Part Seven

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Seven: Sneak Attack

[A/N: The final conversation between Danny and Taylor in the previous chapter has been expanded.]

Max Anders paused when the alert popped up on his computer screen. Clicking the link led him to his email browser, where a new message awaited him. The title was deliberately banal; "Report on Requested Feedback Forms".

Of course, there were no feedback forms. There was only one thing that he had requested – or rather, ordered – recently that would require such a misleading title. He let a quiver of anticipation run down his spine; this was what he had been waiting for.

Opening the email revealed an attachment, somewhat on the large side. A .zip file, it was labelled in the same manner as the email. He downloaded the file, transferred it to a thumb-drive, then erased all evidence of the email and its contents from his computer. Flipping a switch manually turned off the wi-fi router servicing his office; for the next few minutes, his computer would be utterly unable to access the internet.

Pulling the .zip file from the thumb drive, he opened it; it requested a password, which he duly typed in. Then, and only then, did the contents reveal themselves to him.

The pictures came first. Images of a woman; petite, red-haired, vivacious. Her hair wasn't quite as vivid as he recalled it, nor her figure as slender, but she was definitely the woman he had fallen in love with all those years ago. His surveillance team had been thorough; picture after picture of her, at work, at the park, out shopping, trying on clothes with a teenage girl – wait, what?

He had been skimming through the pictures, drinking in the images, remembering exactly what she had meant to him, what she had been for him, when he ran into the image. A girl, maybe Theo's age, laughing at something Andrea said while they checked themselves out in front of a department store mirror in what were obviously new-bought outfits. Even without the red hair – not quite of Andrea's shade, but still very red, if not quite as curly – the familial resemblance was definitive.

Sister, perhaps? Cousin? But he knew somehow, deep down, that it was neither of those. This girl was Andrea's daughter.

Theo's age.

What his father had done still rankled, even after sixteen years. Tearing down his dreams of a life with Andrea, with just a few harsh words. Bundling her out of Brockton Bay, out of his life.

You don't need that red-haired hussy, Richard Anders had told him. She's not Empire. She's not one of us. The Empire has women in plenty for you to marry and father your children with. All you need to do is pick one. Or I'll pick one for you.

And so he had been introduced to Heith. She had been a little younger than him, a little more unsure of herself. While she was attractive enough, she was no Andrea, but Richard had made matters clear; he would take the cards he was dealt and play his hand.

Heith had made no objection to being matched with the heir apparent to the Empire Eighty-Eight. He would not have expected her to; marrying the second most powerful man in the organisation had its perks, after all. Neither was it a totally unpleasant situation for him; she was pliant to his wishes, the ever-dutiful wife. She fell pregnant almost immediately; their son, Theo, was born within the year.

But the Empire Eighty-Eight was embroiled in conflict, then and later. First Heith was killed and then Allfather himself, leaving Max, as Kaiser, fighting to consolidate the organisation before it fragmented altogether. There were pretenders to the throne, as there always are, but he dealt with them savagely enough that his position was soon secure.

By this time, Andrea Campbell was merely an occasional recollection in the back of his mind. He never quite forgot her, but nor did he think long about her when she did resurface in his thoughts. The truth was, he was simply just too busy to spend time on what-might-have-beens.

However, his fortunes were changing on the generational front. Theo was turning out less than satisfactory, despite all of Max's attempts to coax some personality out of him. Purity had split with him, taking their daughter with her. He knew that he could take Aster back at any time; Kayden knew it too, but he also knew that to play that card would change matters between them, perhaps forever. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Just when it seemed that he was out of options, here was something altogether new. Andrea Campbell, back in town … and she had a child. A girl, yes, less satisfactory than a son, but a child nonetheless. Her mother's strong personality was written all over her face; in the few pictures he had of her, she was laughing, smiling, full of life. Compared to the dull lump that Theo was becoming, this was compelling stuff indeed.

Just one question remained. Fingers rattling on the keyboard, he sent off a very specific set of orders. I need to know.

<><>​

One Week Later

Kayden picked up the phone, then paused. What she was about to do had a very final feel to it. Once I do this, I acknowledge that I'm going to be committing to this team. Drawing a deep breath, she dialled the number.

The phone at the other end rang several times, then the connection went through.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Dinah. This is Kayden. We spoke the other day."

Dinah's voice was bright and chirpy. "Oh, hi, Kayden! It's good to hear from you. How's the little munchkin?"

Smiling despite herself, Kayden turned to look down at Aster, who was currently playing with her toes. "As adorable as ever," she said. "Listen, I've been thinking about what we spoke about. I think I need to meet your other members before I make a final decision."

"That's fair," Dinah agreed. "So, when would you like to do that?"

"I know this is short notice," admitted Kayden, "but could it be this evening? I was thinking about what you said about offering babysitter duties and I need to go out to meet with a client. So maybe you and the others could come over and I could meet you all, before I go … ?"

There was a very brief pause. "Uh, there's only one other member, but she's kind of having a social night. But she could bring her friends over, if that's okay? They're pretty cool. They won't make a mess or break stuff."

Kayden pursed her lips. This was a little bit of a twist that she hadn't been prepared for. On the other hand … "How old are these people? Boys or girls?"

"One boy, two girls. The boy's seventeen, the girls are fifteen and sixteen. The other member of the team is a girl; she's fifteen too."

"What sort of a social night are we talking about here?"

"Playing a fantasy roleplaying game, actually."

"What, like, uh, Dungeons and Dragons?" Kayden had never played, but popular culture had made her at least aware of it. Then something else that Dinah had said nudged her. "Wait, you said you only had one other member? You gave me the impression you had more."

"Yeah, sorry. I did kind of fudge that a bit. But I wasn't lying when I said we were looking to recruit more. There are two others that we've got a good chance to recruit, especially if you come on board."

Kayden paused. "Wait … you need me to recruit them?"

"Yeah. One's gonna need some serious throw weight to protect her from the asshole who's currently got her under his thumb. The other's gonna need to see a solid team, not just some half-assed mix of no-hopers, before she'll agree to join. And for that, we're gonna need you."

The situation was rearranging itself in her head. "So you manipulated me."Anger was growing within her, although somewhat mitigated by the mention of the potential member currently under the thumb of some 'asshole', as Dinah had so eloquently described him. Still … I hate being manipulated.

"Yeah. Sorry. With you on board, we've got an eighty to ninety percent chance of fixing what's wrong with Brockton Bay. Without you? Forty to fifty."

She was still seething. "I should hang up right now."

"I wouldn't blame you if you did. But we're still willing to help you with the ABB."

" … wait. You meant that bit?"

"Hah, god, yes. Between you and me and our precog, we can make a real start on making the ABB all kinds of sorry. Once we get the other Thinker on board, we can step it up to the next level."

Kayden felt her anger ebbing. "So … you need me more than you made out, before. But the rest of it's on the level?"

"Absolutely and one hundred percent. Yeah, sure, the team's gonna need you for credibility as well as firepower. That shouldn't really come as a surprise. You'll be the only adult, plus the biggest hitter. But we'll all do our level best to back you up in whatever you do."

"Hmm." Kayden's mouth twisted. Is she still manipulating me? She thought about it, then shook her head. Max manipulated me for years. This doesn't feel like that. Besides … "This roleplaying game thing. It's a social situation, you say?"

Dinah adjusted quickly to the change in topic. "Sure. I don't play much, but I have fun when I do."

"Could other people do it, or is it already closed off?"

"Oh, uh, other people could join, sure. Why, are you thinking of trying it out?"

Kayden snorted. "No, I think I'm too old for that sort of thing. But I have a stepson who's around that age. He might be interested."

"Sure, the more the merrier. They're always willing to show a newbie how to play."

"They won't tease him for getting stuff wrong?" She had heard that some computer game cliques did that. Which reminded her. "Does he need his own computer?"

"Oh, no, no, no. This isn't a computer thing."

"What, really?"

"No, it's tabletop. Pencil, paper and dice."

"Oh." Kayden felt her heart sink slightly. "I don't think he's got any dice."

"Pfft, that's not a problem. Nor did Taylor when she joined. He'll get loaned some and then if he wants to keep playing, he can get his own."

"But you're sure he'll be welcome."

"I will personally make certain of it."

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"That's okay. When should we turn up?"

"As early as possible in the evening would be good. Does any of you have experience baby-sitting?"

The slightest pause. "Yeah, Kay's done it before. She's pretty good at it."

"And you won't get engrossed in the game and forget to keep an eye on Aster?"

"Hah, if I know these guys, they'll have her rolling dice by the end of the night."

The mental image made Kayden smile for just a moment. "Just don't let her put any in her mouth. She might choke on them."

"I'll set my power to the job of 'babysitting Aster' for the night. She's gonna be the most comprehensively cared for child in Brockton Bay."

"Oh. You can do that?"

"It's a job. My power can handle it."

"Oh. Well. I'll see you when you get here, then."

"See you then."

Kayden put the phone down, then paused. I never told her my address.

She sighed. Thinkers.

<><>​

"So hey, Taylor. Got Dinah's message. Why are we gaming here tonight?"

Taylor looked around at Cameron as she got out of the car. "Babysitting," she lied concisely. "Dinah got me the job, but tonight's game night so she asked if we could have the game over here instead."

"Plus, the lady's got a stepson," Dinah added, climbing out of the car after Taylor. "Apart from the one Taylor's gonna be babysitting. About you guys' age. She said he might like to join the game."

"Wait, so she's good with us gaming at her place, with her kid, while Taylor's babysitting her other kid?" Kay's expression was one of bemusement.

Dinah shrugged. "'S what she said."

"Well, this should be fun." Where anyone else's voice would have been resigned, Annette's was full of enthusiasm. "Wonder what he'll want to play?" She bounced on her toes.

Andrea gave her a fond look. "Well, why don't we just find out? Cameron, Kay, got your stuff?"

"Sure thing, Ms C," Cameron told her, hefting his backpack on to his shoulder. "And thanks again for the lift."

"Pfft, it's nothing." She gave him a grin. "Annette has fun at your games, so making sure you all get there on time is a good thing."

Danny cleared his throat. "So, where are we going from here?"

Dinah checked a piece of paper. "This way." She led the way toward a nearby apartment building.

<><>​

Theo had the TV turned down low so as not to disturb Aster; he had fed the baby while Kayden put the final touches on his dinner, a large pan of lasagne. While he appreciated it – he rather liked lasagne – he was beginning to wonder exactly how much she thought he needed to eat. I'm not that fat, am I?

He was still mulling on that when he heard the door buzzer go.

"Theo, get that, will you?" Kayden called from the kitchen.

"Okay," he agreed readily enough. Getting up from the sofa, he headed for the door and pressed the intercom button. "Who is it?" he asked.

"Hi, my name's Dinah. Could you tell your stepmom we're here?"

Theo frowned. The voice sounded like a girl. Not one he knew; he certainly didn't know anyone called Dinah. And who was 'we'?

"Hello? Theo, are you there?"

He blinked. She knows my name? How does she know my name? "Oh, uh, yeah. Okay, I'll tell her."

Puzzled, he headed into the kitchen. "Uh, it's someone called Dinah."

"Oh, good, she's here." Kayden smiled at his look of confusion. "It's okay. I've just arranged for some people your age to come over and help you babysit. They play one of those Dungeons and Dragons games. If you're interested, you could join in."

His confusion only increased. "What? I've never needed help baby-sitting before. What's going on here?"

Studying his expression, she sighed. "Okay. It's a cape thing. But I don't think most of them know about it. They're just here for the game, all right?"

At the phrase 'cape thing', he relaxed. Growing up in the Empire Eighty-Eight, he was aware from an early age that most of his close relatives were capes, and that sometimes things got a little confusing in the name of cape business. A bunch of kids coming over to help him babysit Aster and play some game or other didn't even trip the radar on his personal weird-shit-o-meter.

"Yeah, sure, okay, I can do that." He paused. "Dungeons and Dragons?"

"Apparently they play it." She shrugged. "Have you ever …?"

"Uh, no." He spread his hands. "I doubt my father would even allow something like that in the front door."

"You may just be right," she agreed. "Well, if you're interested, now's your chance to learn. But you might want to go let them in at some point."

"Oh. Right. Yeah." Hustling back to the door buzzer, he blurted, "Sorry about the wait," and pressed the button to open the door downstairs.

"They're on their way up," he called back to the kitchen, softly so as to not wake Aster.

"Good," she said. "Just remember, this is not a reflection on you as a baby-sitter. That's just the excuse."

"Thanks, Kayden." He meant it; his father had long had a habit of belittling any effort he made to assert himself; he had once referred to it in Theo's hearing as 'character building', but Theo personally wondered whose character was supposed to being built, here. Kayden, on the other hand, was nice to him. Considerate.

As her stepson, he didn't think she actually liked him all that much – to be constantly reminded of your ex-husband's previous wife could not be a good thing – but she had a maternal streak a mile wide and thus she could not help but care for him. For his part, he appreciated the baby-sitting job, giving him the opportunity to get out from under his father's thumb for the evening and sometimes the weekend. He wasn't sure if he'd ever see Kayden as his mother, but he liked her for herself. And Aster, of course, was just adorable.

When the knock came at the door, he opened it, then involuntarily stepped back. Five kids of varying age, as well as two adults, were crowded into the corridor; he felt a little panic rising. I'm not good with people, especially not this many.

"Hi!" the girl at the front greeted him brightly. She was younger than him by a few years, he estimated absently. Long straight dark hair framed a face that was cute now and would be pretty in a few years. "I'm Dinah. You must be Theo."

He blinked. "I, uh … hi?"

Kayden rescued him. "Come on in," she called out, bustling through from the kitchen. "Dinah, thank you for coming."

Oh, good, Kayden knows them. With a profound sense of relief, Theo stepped aside to let his stepmother deal with the visitors. Maybe I can hide in my room with a book …

"Well, someone had to show Taylor where your place was," Dinah was saying to Kayden. "Taylor, this is Mrs, uh …"

"Russell," Kayden put in. "Ms Russell."

Huh. I knew she had split with my father, but she's using her maiden name and all. It must be serious. Theo didn't know what to think about that.

"Ms Russell, okay. This is Taylor Hebert. She's gonna be doing the baby-sitting tonight. And we're gonna help," Dinah finished with a grin.

"Wow," remarked the red-haired girl who had entered with the rest of them. As she spoke, she looked around the apartment with a bright and interested eye; something about her struck Theo as being vaguely familiar, although he couldn't quite pick it out. "This kid's gonna be the most baby-sat rug-rat in Brockton Bay." Despite Theo's efforts to fade into the background, she stepped toward him. "Hi, I'm Annette. Theo, right?" She held out her hand.

"I, uh, yes," he agreed, shaking her hand. Her grip was firm; the attention she was giving him was almost daunting. It was as if she had decided that he was the most interesting person there. Which has never happened before, in a good way anyway. "How, uh, how are you?"

Her smile lit up the whole room. "I'm just great, Theo, thanks for asking." She pointed at the other teenagers. "That's Cam, Kay and the skinny one is Taylor."

Cam was tall, broad-shouldered and had dark blond hair; he looked to be a couple of years older than Theo. Kay was maybe sixteen, quietly pretty with long black hair held back in a scrunchie. Taylor was definitely skinny, possibly Theo's age, with round-lensed glasses, long curly dark hair and a wide smile.

Theo found himself once more on the back foot. He simply wasn't used to being the centre of attention among his peers, unless it was as the butt of some joke. But the expressions weren't cynical or malicious.

Behind Annette, the two adults had finished introducing themselves to Kayden; he hadn't heard either of their names, but he guessed he would find them out, sooner or later. "So yeah," Dinah said to Kayden. "Does Aster have any special needs that Taylor needs to know about?"

Despite his current distraction, Theo recognised that as cape code for you need to talk to Taylor in private. Apparently, Kayden got the message loud and clear; she nodded and turned to Taylor. "Come into the kitchen for a moment, please?"

"Sure thing, Ms Russell," Taylor agreed; she followed Kayden out of the room.

"Okay then," Dinah announced. "Theo, got a question for you. Have you ever played pencil and paper roleplaying games?"

Theo blinked as everyone turned to look at him again. He was well used to being silently judged by members of Empire Eighty-Eight, with the wordless commentary being along the lines of he'll never measure up to his old man, but this was a different kind of scrutiny; less condemnation, more curiosity. "I, uh … no …?"

"Okay, that's fine. Everyone's gotta learn sometime. Cam, you brought the books, right?"

"I did," the older boy declared, slapping his backpack. Despite himself, Theo perked up slightly. Books? I can relate to books.

"Excellent," Dinah told him. "Get 'em out. Kay, you're better at explaining things to people. Try and figure out what Theo would enjoy playing. Annette, you brought extra dice, right?"

"Well, duh," the red-haired girl said cheerfully. "Let me guess, get them out so I can explain the difference between two d-ten and percentile, right?"

"Exactly." Dinah grinned at her. "Just don't get the metal d-twenty out, okay? That tabletop looks like it could dent."

Annette rolled her eyes and grinned back. "Spoilsport. When I roll that die, everything gets out of the way."

"Including other dice, furniture and small household pets," Cam interjected, pulling books from his backpack. "So, Theo, have you ever read -"

"Shush, sweetie," Kay reproved him gently. "We both know I'm better at explaining things. You'll just confuse the poor guy."

"And you've got no idea about what's going on, do you?" Annette said. Her expression was sympathetic; he got the impression that she really did understand.

"Uh, yeah, nope," he agreed.

Dinah turned to the tall skinny man who had come in with the others. Balding, with glasses and a weak chin, he didn't look like much. Theo metaphorically shook himself. That's what my father would think of him. I am not my father.

"Uh, Mr Hebert, you're the old-school gamer here, right? How about you help out?"

"Right then," the man stated. "Come on, Theo, take a seat and I'll give you a quick run-down." He suited action to word while the petite red-headed woman – surely Annette's mother, given the resemblance – stood back, watching everything with a grin on her face.

Cautiously, Theo sat down beside him. "Okay, what am I looking at?"

"Right then." Mr Hebert cleared his throat. "This is an interactive game. Those rulebooks explain how to make up the character you're going to be playing in the setting. Cameron, you're the game master?"

"Usually," the tall blond boy replied. "Unless Annette takes a turn."

"And then the game takes a turn for the silly," Kay added. Annette stuck her tongue out at her. "Hey, nothing wrong with silly. I laughed so hard I fell out of my chair, the last time."

"Anyway," Mr Hebert went on. "You have the game master, who runs the game and describes the universe around you. He's got books that give him information on how to do it, but he'll be mainly running it out of his head. If he wants something to happen, that something will happen. With me so far?"

Theo was very familiar with this sort of concept. Like my father on a typical day. "Sure."

"What your character can do is put down on your character sheet," Kay added helpfully, holding up a piece of paper covered in arcane scribblings. "Your name, what he or she is in the game, what you can do and what you currently own."

Theo took it and looked at it. He frowned as he looked at the top line. "So your name in the game isn't the same as it is in real life?"

"Oh god no," Annette chuckled. "You can call yourself anything in-game."

"Within reason," Cameron amended.

"For instance, Princess Frilly-pants is right out," agreed Kay. "Isn't that right, Annette?"

"Still think you two are total spoilsports," Annette said, grinning broadly. "She was a princess and she did wear frilly pants."

"Yes," Cameron replied patiently, "but it might have helped if she didn't try to seduce every man she met."

Annette's grin turned into a smirk. "I still think you were unfair in not giving me more of a chance to succeed. I rolled awesomely against that high elf lord that one time."

Kay rolled her eyes. "She was a half-ogre, Annette."

"And?"

"You were in chains at the time. In his dungeon. About to be whipped for trying to steal his jewelled family crest."

Annette's eyes were dancing with mischief. "Hey, some guys are turned on by whips and chains. I figured I had half a chance."

"Moving right along," Danny interjected before Theo's brain could seize up altogether. "You've got the game master. You've got the rulebooks, which will incidentally help you make up your character. And you've got the dice."

On cue, Annette opened the drawstrings on a large velvet bag and upended it on the table. Multi-coloured polyhedrons bounced and clattered across the wooden surface. Theo stared at several of them as they came to rest before him. "I've heard of these things," he admitted. "They're not like normal dices."

"Nope," Annette agreed. "These are much cooler. Gamer dice. So much fun to play with." Expertly, she picked out several of different shapes and displayed them on her palm. "Okay, quick notes here. One die, several dice. But instead of saying 'six-sided die' we just say 'd'. Like 'd-six'. Okay?"

Theo blinked at her rapid-fire delivery. "Okay, sure. Die, dice. D-six. Got it."

Annette grinned at him. "Great. Doing well so far. We've got the d-four, the d-six – same shape as your ordinary mundane Monopoly dice, and in fact you can use those instead if you have to – the d-eight, the d-ten, d-twelve and d-twenty." By way of illustration, she rolled the last one, which seemed to have far too many sides. It bounced on the table, then came up showing the number 17. "Darn. I was hoping to get a natural twenty. That would have been awesome."

Theo eyed the d-twenty and picked it up. Turning it over, he inspected the numbers. "So how will I know what, uh, dice to roll at any time?"

"It'll be on your character sheet," Cameron advised him. "You'll figure it out pretty quickly."

"Now, there's one wrinkle with dice I'm gonna have to show you," Annette said, handing him a pair of them "See if you can tell me what's different about them."

Theo examined them carefully, turning the pieces of molded plastic over in his hand. The first thing he registered was that they were the same colour, a pale green with yellow flecks. Then he noted that they were a weird shape, not as regular as the others, with a distinct point on each end. Still, he was beginning to think that they were identical, until he noticed something odd about the numbering on them. "Hey, that one's got ten, twenty, thirty on it while this one's one, two, three. Why is that?"

"Well done. Because if you roll them together, you can generate a number from one to a hundred." Annette's expression was pleased, as though she was proud of him. It was an odd feeling. "Go ahead, roll them."

<><>​

Taylor watched Kayden – Ms Russell – as she closed the kitchen door then leaned up against the counter, arms folded. The petite woman – Taylor realised that she was actually taller than Aster's mother – eyed her for a long moment.

Obscurely aware that this was some sort of test, Taylor didn't fidget or blurt out the first thing that came to mind. Instead, she waited, only moving to hitch the backpack up on to her shoulder.

"So, you're the precog." Ms Russell may have been commenting on the weather. So, it might rain tomorrow.

Taylor jerked her head in what might have been a nod. "Uh, yes, ma'am."

Ms Russell eyed her. "Show me. Make a prediction."

"I, uh, need dice. Or something."

A frown. "What?"

Taylor cleared her throat. "I need to roll dice or flip a coin or something similar. It's how my power expresses. I can't just make the prediction."

There were several slow blinks as Ms Russell digested this, then she looked toward the door into the living room. "Meanwhile, out there, they're playing a game which involves specialised types of dice. Please explain this coincidence to me." Her expression had no give in it whatsoever. I guess she really wants to make sure we're serious and not trying to play her.

"I, uh, discovered my power just around Christmas." She took a deep breath, trying to order her thoughts. "Flipping coins, actually. But Dad used to play those games and he got out his old dice. I found out I could do some pretty good predictions with them. They even got me out of Winslow and into Arcadia when they predicted trouble for me."

"And what does this have to do with what's going on out there?" Ms Russell's tone had eased only slightly.

"Well, at Arcadia, I met Annette, who spotted my dice bag. She games, so she recognised it and introduced me to the other guys. We play regularly. Tonight's our game night."

Ms Russell rubbed her lower lip. "All right. Tell me how your power works."

Taylor shrugged. "I can roll dice or flip coins to answer questions. That's the really short version."

"A slightly longer version, please." Ms Russell's voice was sharp. "One that includes how Dinah knew things she shouldn't."

"Oh, uh, Dad got me alphabet dice. So I can ask for verbal answers instead of just percentile chances. And I can also make dice or other things land where I toss them, or make them land the way I want. But not both. Dad says it must be a power thing."

Ms Russell frowned. "Please demonstrate."

Taylor took the bag from her shoulder and unzipped it to get her dice-bag out, then shook out a couple of the dice into her hand; one six-sided, the other eight-sided. "Seven." She threw the d8. It landed, of course, on seven. The next die was a d6. "On top of the d8." Tossing it casually, she watched it land neatly on the other die.

"Impressive." Ms Russell picked up the dice and examined them, then rolled them experimentally. They came up three and eight. "You can do this with anything?"

"Anything I can toss," Taylor amended. "Lightly, with just enough force to get it there."

"How about weapons? Can you throw them to hit whatever part of the target you want?"

Taylor shook her head. "I can toss things lightly. We tried with darts. I'm no better than anyone else with those."

"But you could theoretically drop things on top of people."

"Well, yeah, but that would require a fairly specific set of circumstances," Taylor agreed.

"How about electronic random number generators?"

"Uh, no. I need to physically have contact with the thing I'm tossing. Some level of control."

Ms Russell nodded slowly. "Very well. How about an actual prediction now?"

"Sure." Taylor emptied the rest of the dice into her hand, then selected three d10s. "Think of a number between one and a thousand."

"Thinking of it."

Taylor tossed the dice on to the kitchen counter and then covered them with her hand. "What was the number?"

"Seven hundred and thirty-two."

Taylor lifted her hand; two of the dice read 'seven' and 'three'. The third was sitting on 'five', but the movement of her hand rolled it on to a two. "Seven three two, right there."

Ms Russell blinked. "I was going to go with seven thirty-five but I changed my mind. How did you do that?"

"My power handles the heavy lifting," Taylor said with a shrug. "I just make the rolls. I have no idea how it works."

"How much information can you get?" Ms Russell picked up one of the d10s and examined it carefully. "What are your limitations?"

"Well, I can't find out anything that I wouldn't have been able to learn without tossing the dice," Taylor told her frankly. "And whatever information comes up presumes that I'm not going to be tossing the dice again. Also, if the fact of my rolling changes the information I'm rolling to find out, I don't get a meaningful roll; my hand cramps up instead."

Ms Russell nodded. "So we don't let anyone know we have a precog on the team. That sounds like a relatively easy way to disable you."

"It goes away after a bit, but it still hurts when it happens," Taylor agreed. "But if it's information that's set in stone, or will be set in stone when it happens, and I'd find out some other way anyway, then yeah, I can pull it up for you. Down to the fractions of a percentile, if I feel like it. And if I ask the right questions, in the right order, then I can find out more information."

"That sounds … very useful. Very useful indeed." Ms Russell handed the d10 back to Taylor. "You mentioned alphabet dice. What are your limitations there?"

"Okay, give me a second." Taylor rummaged in the backpack, then came out with the box containing the alphabet dice. "I've been meaning to make a bag for these too, but I haven't had the time yet." She kept talking while putting the other dice back in the dicebag, which she left on the counter. "Dad got these for me online. They're fairly large, so I can't hold many at once."

Opening the box, she demonstrated, pulling out four of the dice and showing how they just barely fit into her hand.

"And with these you can garner verbal information rather than numerical?"

It wasn't really a question, but Taylor treated it as one anyway. "Yeah. My power abbreviates as much as it can, but I can understand it because, you know, it's me. But if I have to use more than eight or twelve letters, it tends to trail off. So I have to keep it short and sweet."

"Have you considered using something like Scrabble tiles?" asked Ms Russell. "Surely you could fit more of them into your hand."

"Yeah, but I can't guarantee on having the letters I need," Taylor said. "With alphabet dice, I can."

"So make me a prediction with them," Ms Russell proposed.

"Such as?"

Ms Russell considered. "Is there likely to be trouble with Kaiser?"

Taylor winced. "Yeah, that's a biggie. You want a yes or no answer, or percentile?"

"Yes or no answer." She indicated the alphabet dice. "I want to see how those go."

Taylor rolled; the dice clattered on the countertop. They came up YES.

"Oh shit." She looked at Ms Russell. "This could be bad."

"Not necessarily. I can talk to him, make sure he knows that we're not going to go head to head with the Empire." Ms Russell pointed at the dice bag. "Can you get a percentile chance of trouble between this team and the Empire Eighty-Eight if I do that?"

"I can try." Taylor dug out all five d10s and rolled them.

Ms Russell eyed the results askance. "I can't tell if it's good or bad."

Taylor, on the other hand, smiled. "It's good. Three point six one nine two percent chance that there will be trouble between the Empire Eighty-Eight and our team if you explain that to them."

"Less than four percent? Good. Excellent." Ms Russell breathed a slight sigh of relief. "Well, I think we dodged a bullet there."

"Yeah, wow. I'm so glad you thought to ask about that. I was under the impression that you and the Empire weren't even working together any more."

That earned her a grimace. "Trust me, once you're in Kaiser's ambit, if he decides that you're someone he wants to keep around, he'll go far beyond what's normally considered reasonable to keep hold of you. Even if it's not what you want. Ruthlessness is his stock in trade."

"And he still let you go?"

"Not too far." Ms Russell indicated the door, and the living room beyond, with a tilt of her head. "He's made sure that he can have Aster taken away from me with one phone call. And if I go too overtly against his wishes, he will. Which is why I'm treading very carefully indeed around this idea."

"Oh. Wow." Taylor considered that. "That could be really, really bad."

"To say the least." Ms Russell's mouth set in a hard line. "Aster is my life. I won't do anything that has even a remote chance of me losing her."

"Ah." Taylor raised a finger. "With our plans as they are right now, what are the chances of anything taking Aster away from you?" Before Ms Russell could comment, she rolled the dice. As they clattered to a halt, she watched, her heart in her mouth.

"Well?" The older woman's voice was almost hushed.

Taylor's smile was broad and heartfelt. "Two point one three eight four percent."

"And your predictions are exactly that accurate?"

A shrug. "Dad had me roll on the chances of a heads or tails for a series of coin flips. It was actually slightly off the fifty-fifty chance and my prediction showed that."

"Well, that's a huge relief." Ms Russell smiled for the first time since entering the kitchen. "I really have to go now, but I'm glad we spoke. I will admit that I had reservations about teaming up with, well, middle-schoolers, but you've impressed me. Both of you have."

"Good." Taylor tried not to heave a sigh of relief; she didn't point out that she wasn't actually in middle school. "I know that as kids, we're likely to have a credibility problem. Plus, I'm not in any way a front-line anything. Nor, truth be told, is Dinah."

"But you're aiming to get more members in?"

"Yeah." Taylor nodded. "If you join, that'll help our chances of recruiting the others considerably. I ran the numbers and there's no doubt about it."

"Well, just so long as your numbers can help me clean up the ABB from this town, I don't mind who you recruit," Ms Russell told her warmly. Opening the oven, releasing a waft of fragrant steam, she pulled out a large pan of lasagne. "Just by the way, I made this for you all. Do you and your friends like lasagne?"

Taylor grinned. "Signs point to yes."

<><>​

"Okay, so now you add your Dexterity bonus to that number for your Reflex save." Annette tapped her fingernail on the character sheet.

"Ah, right." Theo was already scribbling in the space provided. "I see how it works. And my, uh, Wisdom bonus to that number there for my Will saving throw, right?"

"Right, exactly." She ruffled his hair playfully. "You're a natural at this."

He flushed, ducking his head slightly. "It's all pretty easy to figure out."

Danny smiled tolerantly as he watched the byplay. "Still, some people never figure out even the basics. I remember one guy, we had to explain what THAC0 meant, every single game. He just never got it."

Kay frowned. "What's THAC0?"

"Wasn't it something like BAB, only different?" asked Cameron.

"Possibly," Danny hedged, only having the vaguest idea as to what BAB was. "It was a number that you calculated for your character, that you had to roll to hit Armour Class zero."

"That can't be right," objected Taylor. "Armour Class starts at ten and goes up from there, right?"

"Ah, we did it differently back in the day," Danny said. He opened his mouth to say more, but at that moment, the kitchen door opened, releasing the odours of freshly-cooked food into the room.

"Wow," Annette breathed. "That smells awesome."

"It does," Taylor agreed. "It really does."

"This is for you kids," Kayden stated as she placed the pan of lasagne in the centre of the table. "Theo knows where the plates and cutlery are. And it'll be nice if one of you can help him wash up after."

"Oh, I think we can manage that," Dinah remarked cheerfully; Taylor elbowed her surreptitiously.

"Good," Kayden said. "I've got to go now. Taylor, if you have any problems with Aster, ask Theo for help; he's done this all before."

"Okay, no worries," Taylor replied promptly.

"I suppose it would probably be a good idea for us to go too," Andrea prompted Danny. "After all, the idea of having a baby-sitter is so the adults can go do their thing."

Annette nodded; cheekily, she made a shooing motion toward her mother. "Yeah, go on, get out of here. We got this."

Danny glanced at Taylor and she nodded in agreement. "Trust me, Dad. We're good."

"Okay then," he said. "We'll be back in a few hours to pick you up."

As he closed the door behind himself and Annette – Kayden was already ahead of them – he heard Kay saying, "Right, now let's get your Armour Class sorted out …"

Together, they descended the stairs; the sun had set by the time they stepped out on to the street, with dusk spreading over the sky. Kayden gave them a wave as she got into her car; moments later, the engine started and she drove off.

"Well," Andrea observed brightly.

"Well," Danny repeated, for want of something better to say.

"They'll be at that for hours," she pointed out. "Till nine or ten, I think Kayden said."

"Uh, yeah, she did." He paused awkwardly. "Did you, uh, want to go and do something?"

"Why, Danny," she said, giving him a very arch look. "I'm surprised at you. Pleased, but surprised."

He felt his cheeks heating. "I, uh, meant a movie or something. Or coffee. Or a movie then coffee," he blurted. "Not that."

"Ah." Slowly, she sighed; for perhaps the first time, possibly due to a trick of the light, he saw her age on her face, along with a little sadness. "Maybe I came on too fast for you. You've had time to grow up, to mature. I gotta say, there's not that many guys that like me – and I know you like me – that have turned me down. But hey, I can read the writing on the wall. Let's leave sex out of the picture for the time being, okay?" She put her hand on his arm. "We can just talk. If you want. Start fresh."

Slowly, he nodded. "Yeah. Let's talk."

"My car or yours?" she asked.

"What?"

She shrugged. "Well, if we're both going to the same place, why waste gasoline?"

With the sense of someone stepping off a tall cliff, he nodded. Her logic was unassailable. "I'll drive."

She grinned, the usual animation back in her face. "Shotgun."

"Uh … you're the only one here. You get 'shotgun' automatically."

"And?"

He rolled his eyes as he dug out his keys. "You'll never change, will you?"

"Darn tootin'," she agreed.

<><>​

Max Anders sat at his ease in the darkened apartment, the two manila envelopes on the sofa beside him and the framed picture on his lap. There would not be long to wait; his sources had told him that she was already on the way back. However, she was not alone.

A minor irritation. Easily dealt with.

His pose was calculated, that of a man in complete control of the situation. He was a man who worked hard at being in control of every situation in which he found himself. Being the leader of the largest cape organisation in the city led to a certain tendency toward being proactive rather than reactive. A week of forward planning, he maintained, was far preferable to a month of scrambling to catch up.

The lock clicked and the front door opened. Andrea's laughing voice became audible; a little throatier than when he had first met her, but still so recognisable that it brought back old memories, one after the other. This was the one thing the surveillance didn't get me.

"- you'd better stand back. I have no idea how big this thing gets!"

"Oh god," a male voice interjected. "That was worse than my jokes. And Taylor complains about those."

A switch clicked and the apartment was flooded with light as Andrea entered. She was followed by a tall man, skinny, balding, wearing glasses. Recognition didn't take long; Max prided himself on knowing all of the political movers and shakers in the city. Danny Hebert wasn't much of a mover or shaker, but as a prominent member of the Dockworkers' Association, he had some little influence. Pity he's wasted it all trying to get the ferry up and running again. He's beating a dead horse there.

Andrea turned to face Danny. "Yeah, but it was funny. I saw you smile."

"Yeah, but I -" It was then that Danny noticed Max as he sat on the sofa. "What? Who the hell are you?" Max saw the frown on his face clear as recognition took over.

Puzzled, Andrea looked around. "Huh? What? Who -" She paused for a long moment. "Wait – Max? Is that you?"

Slowly, feeling the power and the control, Max stood. "Yes, Andrea," he said softly. "It's me."

She frowned. "What do you want? What are you doing in my apartment?"

"So sorry for the intrusion," he murmured, sketching a slight bow. "When I heard that you were back in town, I just had to see you. A slight gratuity to the building superintendent allows me to greet you in style." Gesturing to the side, he drew her attention to the vase holding a huge bunch of flowers.

"Oh. Oh wow," she gasped. "Max … really, you shouldn't have."

"But I really should," he said. "You can't deny that back when we were last together, we meant something to each other."

"Well, we had fun, sure," she admitted. "But I -"

"Then why waste another moment?" He reached into an inside pocket and drew out a set of keys with a label attached. "These are yours."

Slowly, as if they would bite, she stepped forward and took them. "What are they?"

"Keys to your new apartment," he explained. "Five minutes from your office."

"What? But I …" She paused, looking at the label. "Uh, no, it's not." She frowned. "And this address … I won't be able to afford the rent. Or anywhere near it."

"Oh, didn't I mention it?" He smiled winningly. "You've been promoted. You'll be working as my executive assistant from now on, in the main Medhall building. With a paycheck to match, of course."

She paused for a long moment. "But what about your previous assistant? I don't want anyone bumped on my account."

"Andrea, Andrea, Andrea, you're just as sweet and considerate as I recall," he said cheerfully. "Nobody's getting bumped anywhere. My current assistant is being moved to bigger and better things, a long overdue promotion. I've just been on the lookout for someone I can trust in his place. And that someone is you."

She stared at him. "Max," she implored. "Stop and think for a moment. You don't know me. Sixteen years ago we barely knew each other. You thought I was hot, I thought your pushiness was kinda cute, the spoiled rich kid trying hard to prove he wasn't a spoiled rich kid. But that's no basis for a business arrangement."

He blinked, then regained his place on the internal script. "That doesn't matter. You won't have to do any more than you're doing now. What matters is that we'll be back together. I wanted you to be a part of my life then. My father can't send you out of town this time. What do you say?"

"So wait, all this is to get back together with me?" She tilted her head. "Just so you can sleep with me again? Hell, asking me out for a date would have worked for that."

"Long term," he reminded her. "You and me." A flickering glance at Hebert. "Nobody else." And if I catch any other man sniffing around her …

"I … Max, no. I don't do long term." Andrea spread her hands. "I'm in it for the fun, not for commitment. If there's anything about me you should know, there's that."

"But …" He could not parse what she was saying. "The apartment. The money. I can send Annette to the most exclusive of private schools. If you want, I can pay for the apartment. All you have to do is say yes." He held out his hand to her, open, an invitation anyone would take. I win.

The look on her face was not one he had seen from anyone in a very long time; at least, not directed at him. It took him a moment to recognise it.

Pity.

"Max," she told him softly, stepping forward. "I'm sorry, but I don't go that way. What you're saying you want to do is buy me for sex. I don't have many lines, but that's one that I'll never cross. I'd be happy to see you socially, but I don't do exclusive. I never have."

Stunned, he watched her drop the keys back into his unresponsive hand. He stared at them and at her. For several long seconds, his brain fought to comprehend exactly what had just happened.

"So I guess I'll stay in my poky little apartment," she told him with a brave smile, "and do my lower-middle-management job and muddle along as best I can. Thanks for the offer, Max. But I'm going to have to say no."

He shook his head. "No."

"Uh, yeah, that's what I said," she agreed, looking a little confused. "No." She gestured toward the door. "Uh, I think it might be a good idea for you to leave."

A deep breath served to clear his head. The carrot's been thrown back at me. Time for the stick, it seems. "No. You misunderstand me. You don't have the option of saying no."

"Uh, yeah," Hebert put in. "She does. Free country and all." He pointed at the door, more forcefully. "And I believe that the lady asked you to leave."

Another deep breath centred him. "Allow me to ask you a question," he said, picking up the framed photo he had found on the coffee table. It showed a slightly younger Annette scoring a winning goal in a girls' hockey team. "Is she mine?"

She stared at the picture and then at him. The pause before she answered told him that she knew the truth. "No," she retorted. "She's mine. Now go, please."

A faint smile crossing his face, he shook his head. "Sorry, my apologies. That was a trick question." Picking up one of the envelopes from the sofa, he dropped it on to the table with a slap. "I've already had a DNA check done. I am the father of your child. There's no doubt about it."

Her jaw dropped. "Wait – what – how -"

His smile broadened. I love the reveal, when they realise just how screwed they are. "Janitorial staff are so very bribable. I blame the economy, myself. Suffice to say that I have had genetic samples procured and checked against my own, and she is indeed my progeny."

"Okay, so yeah," she admitted. "I'm still fairly sure that you messed with my pills to get me pregnant. Which, by the way, was a pretty shitty trick. Annette was born after I left Brockton Bay. You're the father. But it doesn't matter. Your dad made me sign all sorts of papers to ensure that I'd never make any claim on you for that sort of thing. You're not the father of record."

"Paperwork," he stated flatly, "can be undone with appropriate inducements. But that doesn't even matter. I am provably her natural father. I want my daughter back."

"Well, you can't have her."

His sigh was one of strained patience. "This wasn't a request, Andrea. Either you and Annette move into the apartment – or better yet, I have rooms spare at my home – or I take her anyway and we start negotiating visitation rights. For you."

"No!" she shouted. "You can't take Annette away from me! I'm her mother!"

The second envelope, somewhat thicker, joined the first with a solid thud. "The weight of evidence in here," he observed coldly, "could get you declared an unfit mother in any court I cared to name. In fact, one phone call from me is all that is needed to set that exact train of events into motion. Now, you can lose custody of our daughter or you can move in willingly with me. It's your choice."

"Now wait just a minute," Hebert began. He stepped forward, fists clenched. "You might be rich, Anders, but you leave Andrea alone or I'll -"

Max barely glanced at him. "Back off, Hebert. Better yet, get out. I never want to see you near Andrea again."

Goaded by the carefully chosen words and the sneering tone, Hebert stepped in and swung a punch. It wasn't a very expert one; despite his father's long-ago reputation on the docks as an all-in brawler, Danny Hebert had not apparently inherited the old man's prowess.

Max, on the other hand, had taken boxing lessons at his father's insistence; his experiences as Kaiser had merely honed his fighting skills. He blocked the clumsy punch and returned one to the point of Hebert's jaw. Danny Hebert went down like a felled tree, crashing to the carpet and sprawling limply on to his back. His glasses, jolted free of his face, skidded across the floor. He lay there, dazed and groaning, while Max looked dispassionately down upon him. Surreptitiously, he worked his hand; Hebert's jaw had been harder than it looked.

"Hebert," he stated coldly, "if you ever try that again, I will ensure that you lose your job, your house and everything you care about. I can do it. I will do it. Don't push me."

"Leave him alone, you bastard!" Andrea shouted, pushing him from the side. Surprised, he staggered, then recovered himself. She came at him again; he caught her wrists. She tried to knee him in the testicles; he interposed his thigh, just in time.

"Stop," he grated. Squeezing her wrists, he leaned his weight on her, forcing her to her knees. Pain twisted her face and she stopped struggling. "Better," he murmured, easing up on the pressure.

She stared at him, panting. "What do you want from me?" she demanded.

"I thought I'd made that clear," he replied, as urbanely as he could manage. "If I let you up, will you cease attempting to assault me?"
She took a deep breath. "Okay."

Slowly, wary of treachery, he let her up, releasing her wrists. She made no move against him, rubbing her wrists carefully. "Just go," she told him. "I won't call the police or anything. Just go."

He chuckled warmly. "Andrea, seriously. The police in this city are a joke. I'm a regular contributor to their benevolent fund, and I have an army of lawyers at my beck and call. In the very unlikely event that it actually went to court and you won, I could appeal you into bankruptcy, very quickly indeed. In addition, in very quick succession, you would lose your job, your apartment, custody of Annette, and Mr Hebert here would lose … well, everything." He shrugged, the very image of magnanimity. "I don't want to do it, but you've exhausted all the other avenues. So we can go down that road, but I do want you to be aware of the consequences."

"But I don't understand," she pleaded. "Why? Why this? Why me? You can have any woman you want. And why Annette?"

His lips thinned at the memory. "I had you. I wanted you. You were taken away from me. I want you back. And Annette is my daughter. My daughter. It's just that simple." Danny was groaning and beginning to sit up; Max glanced at him and decided that he was no threat. "Now are you going to come with me, or do matters have to get unpleasant?"

Andrea hesitated. "I -"

"Andrea." His voice was compassionate, warm, caring. "Please. I don't want to have to do any of this. But if you don't do as I ask, well, I'll have no choice." By way of illustration, he indicated the photo of Annette.

"So that's how it is," she retorted bitterly. "I do exactly as you say, or you destroy me and Danny both. That's not a choice at all."

"No," he agreed. "It's really not. So, do we have an agreement?"

He watched her expression change, saw the moment that she faced the truth of what was going on. Her grimace was pained as she drew a deep breath, then nodded. "Okay. I agree. I'll go with you. On one condition."

Impressed by her nerve, even now, he raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe I left any contingency for you to make conditions."

She looked him straight in the eye. "It's a really simple one. You leave Danny alone. You want me, you got me. But no matter what happens, Danny's out of this."

It wasn't exactly earth-shattering; he nodded. "Very well. Mr Hebert is out of this. Just as soon as you tell him, to his face, that you never want to see him again." His tone sharpened. "If he contacts you, or you contact him, your condition is null and void."

She went over to Hebert, picked up his glasses and handed them back to him. Slowly, clumsily, the skinny man climbed to his feet, with what assistance she could give him. "Andrea?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

Max saw her bite her lip. "Yeah. I'm fine, Danny," she choked out.

"Go ahead," Max prompted. "Tell him."

Andrea took a deep breath. "I – I want you to go, Danny. I don't want you to see me again, or contact me. It – it's better for both of us. You do understand, right?"

Hebert looked at her, then at Max. Comprehension crossed his face. "You bastard," he whispered.

"One more outburst like that and I will be taking measures on my own account," Max stated flatly. "You heard the lady. Get out."

For a long moment, Max thought Hebert was going to try something anyway. Then he turned toward the door.

"Danny." Andrea's voice stopped him. He turned back toward her.

"Andrea?"

There were tears in her eyes. "Danny. Please. Just remember that the sex we had was never serious. It was only ever fun. Just that. Fun."

"The sex?" Hebert looked confused. "But ..."

Andrea shook her head. "Go. Just go."

The door closed behind Max's rival. Triumph swelled in his chest. One down, one to go.


End of Part Seven

Part Eight

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Eight: Boss Fight

[A/N: the scene between Danny, Kaiser and Andrea at the end of the last chapter has been altered slightly.]

Danny

Danny stumbled out toward his car. It was overcast; a cool breeze lifted pieces of scrap paper from the gutter. His head was still ringing and his jaw aching from the punch, but that wasn't his main concern. Where his thoughts were focused was on the apartment he had just left.

The cool night air cleared his head a little, but it wasn't enough to temper his anger over what just happened. Max Anders had Andrea, and he would stop at nothing to get his hands on Annette. It pained him, knowing that he couldn't do a damn thing to help Andrea, but that didn't mean Annette would have to share her mother's fate. If he went to her right now and warned her, got her to stay with Kurt and Lacey or one of the other Dockworkers, it could buy them some time to sort this issue out.

As he got up to the car, he was struck by another thought, about what Andrea had told him. It puzzled him: he never had sex with her, so it made him wonder why she would say that. Was it to make Anders jealous? To make him reject her? The first reason didn't seem very 'Andrea' to him, and the second had been very clumsily handled, if that was her intent. Either way, Max had ignored her words.

He obviously knows she's had many sexual partners. He just doesn't intend for her to have anyone else apart from him, from now on.

He was just reaching into his pocket for his keys when it registered on him that the car was sitting a little lower than normal. Stepping back, he looked at the front driver's side tyre. It was flat.

"Crap," he groaned. "This, with everything else?"

What a lousy stroke of luck, he told himself as he went around to the trunk. But then, on the way, he glanced at the rear tyre. It was also flat. A quick circuit of the car told him that all four tyres were in the same condition. There was no way that this could be a coincidence.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He slumped against the side of the car, about ready to give up altogether. Max had my tyres slashed so I couldn't go for help. I can't go anywhere. I can't help Andrea. I'm fucking useless.

After a few moments, he became aware of a lump prodding him in the ribs. That's funny. I'm pretty sure I didn't put anything in my jacket pocket. Reaching into the pocket, he located the offending item. This turned out to be solid and rectangular; specifically, a cell-phone.

What the hell is a phone doing in my pocket?

It actually took several moments for the realisation to filter through to him. Andrea put it there, while she was helping me up. Thinking back, he could actually recall her brushing him down; it must have been then that she slipped her phone into his pocket. A line from one of Taylor's favourite Earth Aleph movies came to mind: Clever girl.

With a phone, he could call Annette and warn her. If her number was on there. And if the phone wasn't PIN-locked. He hit the power button. The screen powered up, then a message formed. Please enter your PIN.

His heart sank. What the heck would Andrea use for this? I used to know her, but it's been more than fifteen years. My life's changed and so has hers.

He shook his head. "She wouldn't have given it to me if I couldn't figure out the PIN for myself," he muttered. "Okay, think. What does she know about me that she's certain that I can work this out?"

There's only one thing I have in common with her, really. Taking a deep breath, he tapped in four digits. Anne-Rose's birthday. It has to be.

The phone beeped, rejecting the code. A polite message popped up. PIN error. You have 5 more attempts.

"Crap," he muttered. "Crap crap craaaap." Maybe I'm not supposed to even open the phone. Maybe I'm supposed to give it to Annette?

"No," he answered himself out loud. "That doesn't make any sense." He eyed the keypad. Letters decorated it as well as numbers. "Hm. What if ..."

Carefully, he pecked out 2-6-6-3. "A … N … N … E," he mumbled. Her daughter and her old girlfriend in one. Again, the phone beeped. PIN error. You have 4 more attempts.

Closing his eyes tightly, he jammed the heel of his hand against his forehead. I can get this. I have to get this. Arrgh. Maybe it's Annette's birthday? But I don't know that, and Andrea knows it. Maybe it's Andrea's birthday? With a sense of dwindling hope, he entered the four digits, hesitating on the last button. Eleventh or twelfth? I could never remember. Grimacing, he pressed '2'.

PIN error. You have 3 more attempts.

"Come on, come onnn," he told himself. Maybe it's the eleventh. Four more digits; this time, he ended with a '1'.

PIN error. You have 2 more attempts.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Fuck fuck fuuuuck. I suck at this." The phone continued to taunt him with its message.

Abruptly, he shoved it into his pocket and pulled out his keys. Opening the car door, he climbed in, trying to relax into the seat. Closing his eyes, he did his best to recall the conversation they'd had on the way over. Nothing jumped out, but he recalled the other thing that had puzzled him. Why did she say we'd had sex?

His eyes slammed open. "Wait a minute," he muttered, scrabbling for the phone. "Wait a son of a bitching minute." He eyed the keypad, thinking out loud. "Sex is a three letter word. You'd fill in the space with a zero. O-kay then." Taking a deep breath, he tapped in the code. 7-3-9-0. "S … E … X … zero."

Beep. PIN error. You have 1 more attempts.

"No," he growled. "No, no, no no. It's gotta be it. Okay, not sex-zero. Sex-one? Sexy one? Maybe 'sexy' is the PIN?" Almost, he tried that, then he restrained himself. "No, wait, I'm missing something. Sex-two? Sex-three? Sex-four? Sex-six? Sex-nine? No, nothing's better than any other one." Slumping back in the seat, he closed his eyes again. "If that's not it, why did she say it?"

The breeze blew past the open car door, cooling the interior somewhat. It smelled like rain. He breathed deeply of it, trying to relax, to remember her words. "She said … the times we had sex … it was just fun. Nothing but fun." His eyes opened. "Nothing but … fun. Only fun. Fun. Fun!"

The phone had gone dark while he sat there; he pressed the power button again. "Fuck, I'm dense. She told me the PIN. Right in front of Max. She told me exactly what it was."

With shaking fingers, he pressed the keys. 3-8-6. "F … U … N …"

For a long moment, he paused. If this was wrong, the phone was locked, and Andrea's plan was foiled. Am I certain about this?

No, but I can't think of anything better.

He pressed the zero button.

The phone lit up.

<><>​

Theo

"Okay then, Theo," Cameron announced. "This is just a practice battle to show you what your character can do. Karg the Destroyer – love the name, by the way – is third level, so I'm gonna put him up against a reasonable challenge. Just so you know, even if you lose, I'm not gonna kill off your character for real. Practice only, yeah?"

"Sure," replied Theo seriously. "So what do I do?"

Taylor leaned back in her chair and popped a handful of peanuts into her mouth. "Kick ass and take names," she mumbled indistinctly as she chewed on them.

"Pfft," Annette retorted. "You don't need to know their names."

Amid chuckles, Cameron nodded. "I'll present the challenge. You tell me what you're doing. Annette can coach you in basic player tactics, but you get the final say on your character's actions."

Annette grinned. "Arright then. Woo. Let's do this."

Cameron cleared his throat. "Karg is making his way through a winding series of caverns when -" He stopped as a phone went off, playing a risqué song currently popular on Youtube. One eyebrow raised. "Really?"

"Whoops, sorry, that's mine." Annette's face was almost as red as her hair as she dived into her bag. "Just … one … second … hi, Mom? What's – oh, Mr Hebert? What's the mat- uh, Taylor? She's right here. Sure, okay." She turned to Taylor, who had sat up at the mention of her name, and was brushing peanut crumbs from her shirt. "It's for you. Your dad."

"Oh, okay." Taylor accepted the phone and got up from the table. She wandered away toward the kitchen as she answered it. "Yeah, Dad? What's up?"

Cameron caught Theo's attention. "As we were saying, Karg's in a winding series of caverns. He turns a corner and is confronted by two orcs and a goblin."

"Uh, are these like Lord of the Rings orcs? Because I'm not sure Karg can take those," Theo confessed. "Those guys looked tough."

Annette shook her head, grinning. "Nope. These are their wimpier cousins. Orcs and goblins are the Über and L33t of the fantasy world. Dangerous in large numbers, but not so great one on one."

"Well, right now they're three on one," Theo pointed out. "What should I do?"

"Okay," Annette decided. "First thing you want to do is -" She broke off as Taylor returned to the table. "Wow, Taylor, you look like you've just heard the Endbringer sirens. What's the matter?"

"Tell you in a second," Taylor replied. "Dinah, I need to talk to you in the kitchen."

Theo blinked. He'd only met Taylor this evening, but up until now she'd been pleasant to talk to, if a little quiet. Now, she was focused, her expression serious. This was a whole new side to her.

Dinah didn't hesitate; she stood up from the table and followed Taylor into the kitchen. The door closed behind them.

"Whew," chuckled Kay, but it sounded a little forced. "That was kinda intense. Wonder what that's about?"

"Eh, someone probably took the last slice of pie or something," Annette said. She tilted her head. "Gotta say though, I've never seen Taylor like that before. All super serious and stuff."

Theo didn't comment. He'd seen that look before. When members of his extended family took on that expression, used that tone of voice, and held hurried conferences behind closed doors, it could only mean one thing; cape business.

Which means that Taylor and Dinah are the capes here, and the others aren't in on it. But Taylor's dad is. Is he a cape too? Wonder what the problem is? He made a private bet with himself that when they emerged, they'd make some excuse and leave.

Though it was kind of odd, now that he came to think about it, that Taylor's dad had called Annette on her mother's phone in order to contact Taylor. If they've got a cape thing going, then they really should have some way to keep in touch with each other.

"Theo? You still with us?" He looked around with a start; Annette was grinning at him. "Wow, you must've caught the super-serious bug. Right then, you looked like you should be brooding on a rooftop somewhere."

Yeah, right, me a hero. That's gonna happen. Right after Behemoth and Leviathan team up for a song and dance show, with the Simurgh playing honky-tonk on the piano. "Nah, just thinking about stuff," he temporised. "So, where were we?"

"Well, you're currently facing off two orcs and a goblin," Cameron reminded him. "Annette, you were just saying that he should do something. What was it?"

"Oh, uh, to make sure they don't flank him," Annette said. "Because if they do that -"

The kitchen door opened again. Everyone looked around. Here it comes, Theo decided. Wonder what the excuse is gonna be?

"Annette, Theo, could you come in here a moment please?" asked Dinah, the oddly formal speech sounding downright weird coming from a twelve year old. "We need to talk to you."

"Uh -" Theo glanced at Cameron.

The older boy raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Is this really that important?" he asked. "Trying to run an encounter, here."

Taylor nodded. "It's really that important, Cam. Sorry."

Cameron nodded and gestured to Theo; Annette was already half out of her seat. "Go. See what's the matter. We'll take five."

Okay, so what's going on here? Apprehension was beginning to overtake his curiosity as Theo got up and followed Annette into the kitchen. Why do they need me? A moment later, it clicked. Mom. This has some kind of connection to Mom. But why Annette then? Every time he thought he had the situation figured out, another factor threw him off again. Okay, I'll wait and see what's going on.

<><>​

Andrea

"Ah, we're here." Max's voice was satisfied, that of a man whose plans were working out to the last decimal place. "Andrea, would you prefer to wait in the car or come up with me?"

She gritted her teeth at his pretended consideration. He was persuasive, very much so. But it had been a very long time since a man was able to pull the wool over her eyes, and Annette was the single most important person in her life. "I'll come up." God, I hope Danny figured out what I was trying to tell him.

"Very well then." He climbed out of the car, then offered his hand to assist her out. She ignored it; after a moment, he stood back and waited for her. Overhead, clouds loomed low. Spots of rain hit the pavement here and there; thunder rolled far above.

As with the hand, she rebuffed his proffered arm. "Pretty sure I can walk on my own."

"As you wish." His eyes hooded, belying his light tone. "For now."

As they walked toward the front entrance to the apartment building, Andrea slowed her pace just a little. Max glanced across at her, lips thinning slightly. "If you wish, you can go back to the car. I won't be long, anyway."

"No, I'm coming along," she said stubbornly. I don't want him alone with Annette at any time, ever. But hopefully, Danny warned them in time and she managed to sneak out the back.

Max strode up to a couple of men who stood near the front door. "Report."

"She hasn't come out since we got here, sir," stated one of the men. "No teenagers, and definitely no redheads."

Andrea stared at him. "You've had the building watched?"

"Well, of course," he retorted. "I didn't want to run the risk of someone tipping her off. You didn't think I did all this on the spur of the moment, did you?"

"Well, no," she admitted. "But why?"

"Why Annette?" He spread his hands. "Because she is my daughter. She has the will and the drive to carry on my business interests. My only other two potential heirs are either too young or lack any sort of drive. I need to show her what sort of a life she can have with me as her father." He smiled thinly. "Also, because I desire you in my life once more, and what I want, I tend to get." Turning toward the front doors, he moved up the steps. "We have delayed long enough. I want to meet my daughter."

Hoping against hope that Annette had gotten the message, Andrea followed.

A few more spots of rain, heavier now, fell on to the pavement as she mounted the stairs.

<><>​

Theo

The kitchen wasn't all that roomy, especially with four people in it. Theo closed the door and leaned against it, while Annette hitched her butt on to the counter. "Okay, spill," she observed brightly. "What's all this super-top-secret stuff about? Are aliens invading?"

Taylor took a deep breath. "No. Annette, there's a big problem. It's your mom."

Theo watched the colour drain from the redhead's face until her freckles stood out in stark relief. "No," she protested. "What about Mom? Is she hurt? Is she in the hospital? What happened?"

Dinah shot Taylor a sharp glance and took over. "As far as we know, she's fine," she assured Annette. "But … it's a long story, but it turns out that Max Anders is your dad, and he's found out that you and your mom are in town, and he wants her back, and you with her."

The bottom fell out of Theo's world. The blood roared in his ears as he felt his knees beginning to give way. Annette is my sister? Holy shit. She's my sister. The tone of his thoughts changed. Oh god, she's my sister. I need to stop looking at her butt in those jeans.

Dimly, he became aware that he was sitting on the floor, and the other three were looking down at him with more than a little concern. "Theo?" asked Taylor. "You all right?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," he mumbled. "That was a bit of a shock, that's all." He couldn't stand up from where he was, so he rolled on to his knees and took hold of the counter to climb to his feet.

"Why is it a shock?" asked Dinah, looking at him carefully. "That Max Anders is her dad?"

Annette seemed to be recovering. "Uh, who's Max Anders, exactly, and why is it such a bad thing that he wants me and Mom back? I mean, she just tells him no, right?"

Theo shook his head. "No, that's not gonna work. Trust me on this."

"But why not?" Annette spread her hands. "Mom doesn't do the monogamy thing. Even if he's my dad, he should know that."

"Max Anders is a very rich man," Taylor supplied. "He's an influential businessman, and Dad says he's determined to make her stay with him. Even if he has to use blackmail." She looked at Annette. "Which is why Dad called up to warn us, so we could sneak you out of here, so Mr Anders can't get his hands on you."

"No, that's crazy," Annette protested. "Blackmail? Who does that?"

"Max Anders," Theo put in. "Trust me, I know."

Dinah frowned but said nothing. Taylor went to speak, but Dinah put a hand on her arm; she shut up again. "Okay, I'll bite," Annette said. "How do you know Max Anders?"

Theo half-smiled, though there was little humour in the situation. The next words, he knew, would change everything. "He's my father too."

Taylor stared. Dinah tilted her head slightly, looking at him in a calculating manner; oddly enough, she didn't seem overly surprised. I wonder why? Annette's eyes opened wide. "You're my brother?"

"Yeah," he agreed, not bothering to quibble about 'half'. "And Aster's your sister."

"Wait, wait, how's that work?" Annette looked confused. "I thought Ms Russel was your stepmom or something."

Theo took a deep breath. "Mom died when I was really young. Then he met Kayden, and married her. They had Aster. She divorced him a little while ago." He dragged his mind back to the current situation. "But if my father's on the way over like Taylor says, we don't have much time. We've gotta get you out of here."

"Uh …"

Everyone turned to look at Taylor, who was peering out the window.

"What?" asked Dinah sharply.

Taylor rolled a die on the counter; Theo hadn't even known she was holding one. Her lips thinned. "He just pulled up outside."

Theo was momentarily confused. How could she know … oh wait. Cape powers.

"You sure?" asked Annette.

"Absolutely certain," Taylor replied. "Dinah, what do we do?"

"Wait a second, wait a second," Theo told them urgently. "Something you need to know. Um, Annette, you might want to cover your ears for a bit."

Annette looked offended. "No way," she protested. "If they can stand to hear it, so can I."

There was no time to argue; Theo took a deep breath, then lowered his voice so that it couldn't be heard through the door. "Guys. Max Anders is Kaiser. Just so you know."

"Holy shit," Annette blurted. "You're Kaiser's kid? Wait. I'm Kaiser's kid? Wow. Crap."

Taylor was beginning to look apprehensive. "Dinah?"

Dinah nodded. "Theo. Call Ms Russel, right now. Tell her everything."

"Uh, what can she do?" ventured Annette.

"More than you'd think," Dinah said grimly. "Annette, you won't be able to get away. He'll have people around the building. I need you to hide. Theo, show her where to hide while you're talking to Ms Russel. Taylor, come out with me. We're gonna play dumb."

Theo found it bizarre that a girl not even out of middle school had so readily taken control of the situation. It must be her cape power or something. However, he wasn't inclined to argue; so long as someone had a plan of action, he was happy. Turning to Annette, he pulled his phone from his pocket. "Come on. We haven't got much time."

She wrinkled her nose. "It would've been a lot more fun playing hide and seek with you if you weren't my brother." But she came along anyway.

<><>​

Kayden

"You have a beautiful house, Mrs Meyer," Kayden commented. "I can tell that I'm going to have to work hard to improve on what you already have."

"Thank you," her client replied with a smile. "My dear Henry, God rest his soul, would be pleased to hear you say that. He -" She broke off at the sound of a ringing cell-phone.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Kayden said. She delved into her handbag. "My stepson is taking care of my baby daughter. Do you mind very much if I take this?"

"Oh. Indeed, indeed." Mrs Meyer gestured in the affirmative and moved off to the sideboard where she took out a glass decanter.

Kayden looked at the phone screen. It was Theo's number, so she hit the button to answer the call. "Theo?"

"Kayden, hi. I don't have much time, but it's really important." Theo's voice was rushed and breathless. In a more indistinct tone, she heard him say, "Through here."

"Theo, what's the matter? What's going on? Is it about Aster?"

"No, it's not." Her eyes widened as he went on to tell her exactly what was happening, about Annette's true parentage, and Max's intentions.

Oh, no, she decided. You don't get to ruin someone else's life as well. You don't get to crush that girl's spirit just like you did Theo's.

"Hold tight," she told Theo. "I'll be right over."

"Hurry," he replied. "Please."

Snapping the phone shut, she turned as Mrs Meyer returned from the sideboard. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I have to get home. Family emergency. Can we reschedule, please?"

Mrs Meyer frowned. "I'm not sure. I'm travelling overseas soon -"

"I'll call you," Kayden promised, and hurried toward the door.

Hold on, Theo. I'm coming.

<><>​

Taylor

When the knock came on the front door, the group was gathered once more in the dining room. Taylor had gotten the lasagne out of the oven and was busy slicing it. Theo was washing his hands in the bathroom. Dinah was setting the table.

"Coming!" Theo called from the bathroom, although he didn't appear immediately.

After a few moments, another knock resounded through the apartment. "Maybe one of us should get that?" Cameron asked.

"Nope," said Taylor, just as Theo emerged from the bathroom, wiping his hands on a hand towel. "Theo lives here, not us."

Dinah looked up. "Actually, Taylor, you answer it."

Taylor frowned. "Me? But -"

"I really think you should," Dinah interrupted. Taylor read the implicit message. This is a job for Taylor Hebert.

"Ah, right," she agreed. "Theo, take over? I'll get the door." She lowered her voice a little. "And if anyone asks, you haven't seen Annette for a while."

"But wasn't she just -" began Kay.

Dinah shook her head. "It's a parental custody thing. Her dad's a jerk. As far as we know, Annette's gone home or something."

Cameron and Kay glanced at each other. He shrugged; she nodded. "Okay," she agreed.

At that moment, the knock sounded a third time, loud and peremptory. Taylor handed the knife over to Theo, who tossed the hand towel back into the bathroom.

"Hold your horses," Taylor called out. "I'm coming." She went over to the door; carefully putting it on the chain, she unlocked it.

The door opened with a jerk, then hit the end of the chain and stopped dead. A man whom she had never met, but whose face looked vaguely familiar, glared through the gap. "Open this door at once."

Taylor tilted her head curiously. "I'm sorry. Who are you again?"

The man's features rearranged in an instant, once he seemed to realise that he wasn't looking at Theo. He beamed at Taylor with an abundance of charm. She didn't trust it for an instant. Emma had charm in buckets too. "My apologies. I'm Max Anders. Theo's father? He may have spoken of me?" He paused for a moment. "And may I ask who you are, young lady?"

"Oh, uh, I'm the babysitter," Taylor replied innocently. "Can I help you, Mr Anders?"

"Yes, actually," he said smoothly. "I'm just here to pick up my daughter Annette."

Taylor blinked, affecting surprise. "Wait, so you're Theo's father as well as Annette's?"

"So you do know her," he returned. "Yes, as it happens, I am."

"That's funny," she told him. He's probably been keeping tabs on her, so I wouldn't be surprised if he already knows my face and that I'm Annette's friend. "She's said nothing to me at all about you."

His smile had to be forced, but she was damned if she could pick it. For all that she knew he was on the back foot, he was acting like someone totally in charge of the situation. "Oh, that's understandable," he agreed. "Her mother and I were estranged for almost all of Annette's life. But now that's changed. She's going to be getting the best of everything from now on." He tilted his head. "Could you perhaps open the door so I can come in and get her?"

"I don't know," she hedged. "I mean, I've got no reason to disbelieve you, but Ms Russel would be really upset with me if I just opened the door to any stranger who happened to walk up with a good story. And I kind of need this job."

"Ah, well, that part's easy." Max Anders smiled and withdrew. "You've met Annette's mother, I presume?"

Andrea stepped up to the gap in the door. "Hello, Taylor," she murmured, eyes downcast. The contrast to when Taylor saw her last was shocking. Wow, this guy really did a number on her. Taylor's dislike for Anders grew exponentially.

"Ms Campbell," Taylor greeted her. "How are you?"

Andrea's bright green eyes flicked a moment back to Anders before she looked at Taylor for the first time. Taylor saw the pain in them. "I'm doing better than some," the woman allowed.

She's talking about Dad. He didn't say much about what happened. I wonder how badly Kaiser beat him. I really don't like that man.

Taylor heard Max Anders murmur something. Andrea flinched very slightly. "Taylor, sweetie, could you be a dear and open the door for us?" she asked; it was obvious that she didn't want to say the words.

He's good. I've got no real excuse to not open the door for Andrea.

"Um, okay," she agreed. "But Mr Anders should wait outside. I don't know him, after all. And Dad always told me that I shouldn't ever let strangers in."

"I'm Annette's father," Anders reiterated. "Besides, I'm Kayden's ex-husband and Theo's father as well. I'm the very opposite to a stranger."

"Has Annette even met you?" retorted Taylor. "Does she want you for her dad?" Outside of the line of sight from the door, she saw Dinah making negatory motions. Tone it down, tone it down.

"I'm sure that we'll get along well, once we get to know each other," Anders replied. "Now please open the door, as Andrea has asked you to do."

"Okay, but you don't come in. Only Ms Campbell comes in," stressed Taylor. "Because I'm the babysitter, and I'm in charge. And I don't know you, so you don't come in." Behind her, she heard Dinah whispering to the others, but she didn't turn her head.

"Very responsible," he praised her, and she almost believed his words, so smooth was his tone. "I understand."

Pushing the door closed, she took the chain off then stepped back. It was well that she did, for the door was pushed open almost immediately under the impetus of Max Anders' hand.

"Now then," he declared, taking a step into the apartment.

Taylor glanced over her shoulder then stepped to the side. "I told you that you weren't allowed in," she stated, raising her voice slightly. "Please leave."

"Once I have my daughter," he replied urbanely. "I -" He stopped as he looked past her. Cameron and Kay were standing by the table, facing him, with phones out and aimed at him. Dinah, seated at the end of the table, was doing the same. Only Theo didn't have a phone out. Given that he has to go back to his father at some point, probably a wise move.

"Are you recording me?" he asked, slightly disbelievingly.

"Currently, sir, we're recording trespass by someone who was asked not to enter," Cameron replied steadily. "This isn't going online yet, but that can happen."

"Don't threaten me, boy," Max said tightly. "Do you know who I am?"

Cameron nodded. "I know exactly who you are, sir. Do you know who I am?"

Max frowned. "I have no idea."

"Good." Cameron smiled briefly and tapped buttons on his phone. Beside him, Kay kept recording. "Video of Medhall CEO Max Anders performing a home invasion going online in five … four … three …"

On 'two', Anders stepped back over the threshold. "Get in there," Taylor heard him say.

Andrea stepped in through the doorway. Her gaze darted about the dining room of the apartment; after a moment, she relaxed ever so slightly. Taylor didn't need to have Dinah's powers to know what she was thinking. Oh good. She's not here.

She tried to close the door behind Andrea, but Anders was too quick and too strong. "Let go," she told him, grunting with the effort.

"I have to stay out here," he retorted. "I don't have to let you close the door. Andrea, get Annette and let's go."

"I'll just get her," Andrea promised, and went to step away from the door. However, Max closed his hand over her upper arm, stopping her from moving too far. "What? Max, let go."

"Call her," Max told her, not moving from his position. "Call her now."

"Mr Anders," Taylor told him, "I'm pretty sure that what you're doing right now is assault."

He shot a glare at her. "I'll take your assault charge and turn it into felony kidnapping on your part if my daughter doesn't come out right now. Andrea, call her."

"Annette," Andrea said, not raising her voice. "Come on. It's time to go."

Annette totally failed to appear.

Andrea shrugged. "She's not here."

"Call her on your phone," gritted Max.

After making a show of searching her pockets, Andrea shrugged again. "I don't have it. I must have dropped it, back in the apartment."

Taylor wanted to grin, but she kept a straight face. Yeah, when you slipped it to Dad.

Max sighed, aggravated. "Fine. I'll do it." With his left hand, he pulled a phone from his pocket.

"Wait, how do you have Annette's number?" protested Taylor.

"I'm her father," Max informed her. "It's my job to know things like that." One-handed, he called up a number and pressed the button to call it. A phone began to ring. All eyes turned to Theo. Slowly, the pudgy boy pulled Annette's phone from his pocket. It continued to ring loudly; from the sour look on Anders' face, he recognised the song.

"What?" asked Theo. "She asked me to take care of it for her."

Max shut off the call; after a moment, the song stopped playing on Annette's phone. "All right, this is getting serious," he stated. "Annette's mother has called out for her, and she hasn't appeared. Her phone is in someone else's pocket. I am choosing to believe that something untoward has happened to my daughter and that you five are covering it up. So unless you bring her out to us right now, I'm going to assume that her life is in immediate danger, and I'm coming in to look for her."

Crap.

<><>​

Kayden

Maybe I should have flown.

Kayden clung to the steering wheel as she negotiated Brockton Bay's night time traffic. It was still early in the evening, and there seemed to be far too many cars on the road. The rain didn't help, cutting visibility and making the road slippery. She pulled to a halt behind three cars at a red light. Come on, come on. Thunder boomed; the rain increased dramatically.

She would have flown, but her power made her flight extremely visible, especially at night, and she most assuredly did not want to quite literally draw a huge glowing arrow toward the apartment block where she lived. Besides, it was only a five minute drive. Well, ten minutes, given this traffic. Rain sheeted on her windshield, defying the wipers' best efforts to clear it once more. Maybe fifteen or twenty, the way this is going.

The car in front of her stopped; she pressed her brakes, skidded slightly, then stopped as well. All she could see were red tail-lights, dimly filtered through the rain. Christ, I'll never get there in time.

Making a snap decision, she turned the wheel, pulling into a parking spot. Getting out was like stepping into a cold shower at full blast, but she did it. Closing the door, she locked it, then sloshed through the ankle-deep water to the pavement. Well, that's it for those shoes.

Already, the rain was concealing her from anyone in a car, and there were no pedestrians. Just her, and the rain. Closing her eyes for a moment, she let the power flow through her. Light flooded the pavement, refracting through a million raindrops, as she took off straight up through the gathering storm.

<><>​

Taylor

Max Anders pushed his way past Andrea. He stopped in front of the table, eyeing the people standing around it. "One last chance," he told them. "I want to see my daughter, now." He was good at this; his every movement projected the image of a reasonable man put upon by circumstances beyond his control. Taylor had to fight to prevent a feeling of guilt from overcoming her. "Where is Annette?" Even the tone of his voice projected 'reasonable parental figure' rather than 'ruthless parahuman villain'. He's really, really good at this.

Taylor shrugged slightly, trying to ignore the butterflies rapidly multiplying in her stomach. "I'm sorry. I have no idea. I haven't seen her in a while." All of which was true. She had no idea where Theo might have helped her friend hide, and a minute or so was a 'while', wasn't it?

Max's eyes narrowed slightly; he met Taylor's gaze directly. She read his expression without any problem. So, we're going to play it that way, are we?

His attention moved on to Dinah. Probably because she's the youngest. He thinks she's the most likely to talk. "I'm sorry; I don't know if we've been introduced. I'm Max Anders. Perhaps you've heard of me?"

Dinah gave him the most utterly brainless smile that Taylor had ever seen on anyone over the age of six. "Oh, yes, Mr Anders! You're really rich and important! And I met you once before, at the 'gustus Country Club! My uncle's the mayor, you know! We had the shrimp! It's really good!"

Holy shit. Is this Dinah speaking? Wow. Surreptitiously, Taylor glanced at Anders. Is he even buying this?

It appeared that he was; either that, or he held a low opinion of the intelligence of preteen girls in general. In any case, he changed the tone of his voice to one which he obviously imagined was suitable for speaking to small children. "Yes, it really was good shrimp, wasn't it? But I need to ask you a question. Do you know where Annette is? The red-headed girl?"

Dinah pointed at Andrea, who was eyeing her in some bemusement. "She's got red hair! It's really pretty!"

Max sighed. "Yes. That's Annette's mom. I want to know where Annette is. Can you tell me that?"

"Um …" Dinah put her hand to her chin and tilted her head to one side. "She was here. But she's not here now."

The amount of patience in his voice was amazing. "Yes, I know that, dear. Did you see where she went?"

"I don't know!" Dinah replied brightly. "I was setting the table!" She held up a knife and fork, one in each hand. "I'm good at setting the table! Mommy taught me!"

Taylor had to bite the inside of her cheek to avoid laughing. Oh god, if I didn't know better …

<><>​

Max

Is Christner's niece a congenital idiot, or is she just playing me? Max had started out with the assumption that it was the former, but was beginning to wonder if the latter situation might be the case instead. If it was, she had a future with any PR firm he cared to name; the artless babble was almost enough to convince him that the girl really did know nothing at all. Even how to tie her own shoelaces.

Either way, he knew, he wasn't going to get anything useful out of her. Not allowing his irritation to show, he turned to the boy who was still holding his phone. "Young man. What's your name?"

"Cameron, sir." The boy lifted his chin slightly, but his tone was respectful. Well, that's a start.

"Good evening, Cameron." Max allowed a slight smile to cross his features. "Perhaps you can help me."

"No, sir," Cameron replied stolidly. "I don't believe that I can."

"Surely you can do better than that, Cameron." Max made his voice hearty, man-to-man. "This is my daughter we're talking about. My flesh and blood. I only want to give her a good home."

"I understand that you think so, sir." The boy was still respectful, even while denying him what he wanted. Why can't Theo be more like him? "But I still can't help you."

Max hardened his tone slightly. "Can't … or won't?"

Cameron shook his head. "Take your pick, sir. The result's the same either way."

Max switched his attention to the last person at the table, a teenage girl with her hair in a scrunchie. Before he could speak, she shook her head and pressed her lips together. Well, I won't be getting anything out of her. Time to play hardball.

"You all probably think that you're helping your friend," he stated flatly. "You couldn't be any further from the truth. The fact of the matter is that Annette is my daughter. Our daughter." He reached out and gathered Andrea to his side, ignoring the almost subliminal shudder that went through her. "We are her parents. Keeping her from us is kidnapping. Do you really want to go down that path?"

<><>​

Taylor

His words hung in the air for a long moment, then Taylor cleared her throat. "Actually, no. It doesn't work like that. We're minors. We can't be charged with kidnapping. And besides, she's here of her own free will." I finally got something out of knowing Emma and her father. Who knew?

His mouth twisted as though he had bitten into something sour. "Very well. I choose to believe otherwise. I am going to look for her. I suggest that none of you get in my way." He turned to Theo. "Where do you have her hidden?"

He's already figured out that Theo's the one who would have helped her hide, because he lives here. I'm not sure how long we're going to be able to pull the wool over his eyes.

Theo pressed his lips together and shook his head, not looking at his father. But nor was he looking at the bathroom doorway, which was where Taylor suspected that he had taken Annette to hide. Taylor's first thought was Where could she hide in there? Her second was more serious. Unless he's being really subtle, he's just told his father where she is. And I don't think he's that subtle.

Max Anders nodded. "Thank you," he said, even though Theo hadn't spoken a word. "You're not off the hook, though. Don't go anywhere."

Stepping into the bathroom, he opened the linen cupboard. It was stacked with folded sheets and towels, which Max began to pull out with careless abandon, strewing them on the bathroom floor. There were several shelves there, any one of which could have accommodated Annette; with sheets or towels stacked against her, she would have been invisible. That's probably what I would have done.

Theo's father obviously thought the same way, as he methodically removed every stack of towels and sheets from the cupboard, a slight sneer of triumph on his face. This sneer lasted until the last shelf was clear and it was obvious that Annette was not in there.

… Okay. So he didn't do the obvious. Where's she hidden, then?

<><>​

Max

She's not in the cupboard. Where is she?

He took a pace back and looked around the bathroom. It wasn't all that large and there really were not that many places to hide. The cupboard had been the most logical place, which made it the first place he would look, so Theo hadn't picked there. I may have underestimated my son.

Still, Theo's refusal to look at the bathroom had made it the most likely place for Annette's hiding place so where could the girl be?

There was a large tub alongside the washing machine; he really didn't think anyone could fit in the storage space beneath, but Anders considered himself a logical man, so he looked. Quite a few cobwebs, a few daddy-long-legs scuttling in a panic from the light, but no Annette.

The washing machine was right there; again, he did not consider it likely that she was crammed into the machine itself, but there was the faint chance, so he looked.

She wasn't there, either.

The dryer had an even smaller volume than the washing machine, so he almost didn't bend down to look through the window in the front. His daughter wasn't in there, but it did hold a load of clothing. Normally, he wouldn't have bothered, but there was a mystery here, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. So he opened the door, reached in, and pulled out the first item of clothing that presented itself; as it happened, this was a t-shirt.

Once he had it in his hand, he knew the trick of Annette's disappearance. More to the point, he knew exactly where she was. He didn't even need to sniff at the shirt to know that it hadn't been recently laundered. This shirt belongs in the hamper. Which means …

Dropping the shirt, he turned toward the laundry hamper, sitting innocently next to the door. The flicker of fear across Theo's face was all he needed to know that he was right. The boy had pulled out clothing from the hamper, she had gotten in and then been covered over again. Theo had stuffed the excess clothing in the dryer; he'd almost gotten away with it, too.

<><>​

Annette

When she heard the dryer door open, she figured that the jig was up. A rustle of cloth and a slight lessening of the weight of the laundry that Theo had piled on top of her warned her that Anders was indeed investigating the hamper. In another second or so, he'd be down to her level.

Tensing her legs, she came to her feet as fast as possible. Items of clothing flew in all directions. She flipped the fitted sheet in her arms over Anders' head, then tried to jump out of the hamper. Unfortunately, the cramped position had taken its toll and she wasn't as limber as she was used to. The hamper tipped over, taking her with it. Scrambling out of it, she pulled herself to her feet and took one step toward the door before a hand closed over her arm.

"Got you," Max Anders snapped, sounding more than a little aggravated. "Now, there'll be no more of -"

He got no further, as she grabbed his arm with her other hand, backed up hard into him, bent over forward, and pulled off the best approximation of a hip throw that she could in the cramped surroundings. He landed on his back; the impact was cushioned somewhat by the sheets and towels on the floor, but he still let go of her arm.

Leaping over him, she dashed out into the dining area. One plate had lasagne on it; with a silent apology to Kayden – it did smell delicious – she hefted the plate and spun around. Anders was just sitting up, his expression murderous. With all the strength she could manage, Annette let fly.

Her aim was impeccable; even as Anders clawed at the lasagne now decorating his face – the plate had fallen to the floor – she ran for the window. There was a fire escape outside; she figured that she could be down to the ground before he was even out the window. This plan lasted right up until she got on to the escape; the rain was coming down in buckets, but she was able to make out the shape of a man standing next to the fire escape, looking up. He's probably not waiting for the bus.

She also doubted that she'd be able to pull off a throw like that again, against an opponent ready and waiting for her. So she headed up the fire escape. Up the fire escape, into the roof access.

The roof access, she knew, would probably be locked, but she knew tricks around that.

Then I go down the stairs. There's gotta be some place I can hide inside the building.

Within seconds, she was soaked to the skin. Good. He will be too, if he follows me.

<><>​

Max

He wiped the last of the pasta dish off his face. Some distant part of his mind noted that it was delicious – Kayden hasn't lost her touch – but it was drowned out by the rage that encompassed most of his being. Nobody does that to me. I'm going to enjoy bringing her to heel.

For a moment, he considered going up the fire escape after her, but then he thought better of it. She wants me to pursue. She has a head start. Better to cut her off at the pass, so to speak.

He swept a glare over the people in the room. "Stay. Here." Shoving past Andrea, he wrenched the door open and dashed down the corridor to the stairwell. She'll be coming down the stairs. I'll be going up the stairs. It works for me.

There was nobody on the stairwell all the way up; as he got to the top, over the noise of the rain, he heard someone fumbling with the access door. He smiled grimly as he hit the bar to open the door. Checkmate.

The door opened; Annette was standing there, looking like a half-drowned cat in the heavy downpour. She took a step back as he moved forward.

"You didn't think you could get away that easily, did you?"

Max was angry, but that was by no means the only emotion he was feeling. Irritation at the girl was balanced by pride at the fight she was putting up – she's an Anders, all right – and satisfaction at having out-thought and out-manoeuvred her. She needs to know who's calling the shots, once and for all.

The rain was ruining his suit, he knew. But he didn't care; he had a dozen just like it. In any case, the stains from the lasagne would have already gone a long way toward achieving that end. He stepped forward, reaching for her; she moved backward again, avoiding his grasp.

"Maybe not," she retorted defiantly. "But you can't keep me locked up. And soon as I'm gone, Mom's gone too. You know it and I know it. So why don't you just go take a long walk off a short pier and save us all a lot of trouble?"

"Annette, you misunderstand the situation," Max replied, not letting her see his growing irritation. "I want to take care of you and your mother. You're my daughter; I wish to show you just where that can take you. All of your needs will be met."

"All the ones you think need to be met, anyway," she said, still backing away from him. "What about what I want to do? What if I want to go out with a boy? I can just tell you'd be the overbearing father type."

<><>​

Kayden

It took her a moment to recognise her apartment building in the pouring rain; she had to swoop low over the roof to even see it properly. As she did so, she saw two figures next to the roof access. While she couldn't make them out at all well, she had a good idea as to who they might be. Coming around in a sharp turn, she landed on the rooftop and shut down her powers.

"Kayden." Max's voice was not pleased. "What are you doing here?"

"Ms Russel? You're a cape? Wow! I never even guessed!" By contrast, Annette's voice held more than a little fangirl-squee in it.

Kayden stepped forward, planting herself between Max and the redheaded girl. "Max. This stops now."

Max shook his head. "No. This is none of your concern. Step aside."

Her entire being rebelled against defying Max, but she took a deep breath and stood firm. "No. I'm not going to let you do this."

He frowned; even with his hair plastered to his head, water running down his face and what looked like pasta stains on his suit, the expression was still enough to make her swallow. "Kayden, you don't know what's going on here. This is my daughter."

"I know exactly what's going on here," she retorted. Behind him, the roof access door opened. Theo stepped out into the pouring rain, followed by Andrea. The sight gave her strength. "You want to ruin that girl's life, just like you ruined Theo's. You want to get into her mother's head, just like you did mine." She paused. "What I don't understand is why you're being so bull-headed about this. This is remarkably clumsy, Max, especially for you."

He chuckled. "Blame Andrea for that. Unlike you, she doesn't think things through and come to a reasoned, logical answer. All too often, she acts far too much on impulse. I can't reason with her. I've never been able to."

Translation: I can't twist her head around to make her agree with me.

The answer was simple. "So let her go. Let them both go."

He shook his head. "Andrea is my one great love. Annette is my daughter. I can't let them go. Surely you can see that."

She didn't take her eyes off of Max, but from the corner of her eye, she could see Theo and Andrea moving off to the side, and Annette joining them. The red-haired woman wrapped her arms around her daughter.

"You're going to have to, Max," she replied steadily. "If you keep forcing them to accept this, you'll break them. They don't deserve this. I'm not going to let you do it."

Slowly, Max shook his head. "Kayden. Kayden, Kayden, Kayden. When are you going to learn? You can't stop me from doing anything. Nobody can, but most especially you. Or would you like a reminder of why this is?"

Aster. Kayden firmed her jaw. "No. You can't hold that over my head any more. I'll fight -"

"And lose." His voice cut across hers, hard and confident. "Like Annette, she's my daughter by blood. Financially, I'm far more capable of caring for her than you are. It might prove a little more tricky to show you up as an unfit mother, but -"

Kayden lit up like a flashbulb as her power activated. "No!" she shouted. Almost, she launched a blast at him. The last lingering shreds of his influence held her back; the power flared around her hand but she held it in check.

Max, on the other hand, had no such compunctions. The steel blade grew from his hand in an instant and he lunged forward; she felt the pain as the blade punched into her abdomen. It withdrew once more; she felt the light leave her body as she fell to her knees. Her hands clasped over the wound, red spilling between her fingers. "Max …" she whispered, the word drowned out by the rain.

<><>​

Theo

Oh no, no, no.

Horrified at what he was seeing, Theo opened his mouth to plead for Kayden's life. Even as he did so, Max stepped to her side.

"I can stand initiative." Max's voice was harsh. "I can stand defiance, at least for a while." He raised the blade as her head slumped forward. "But one thing I cannot countenance is betrayal."

Oh god, he's going to -

The sword was at its highest point when there was an ear-splitting crack and a violet flash of light so bright that Theo could not look at anything without spots crowding his vision. For what seemed like seconds, but had to have been less, Max convulsed on the spot, lightning grounding in the tip of the sword, crackling through his body.

Even as the lightning strike ended, the body of the former leader of the Empire Eighty-Eight slumped to the rooftop. His sword fell nearby, the red-hot tip raising steam from a puddle.

Holy shit. Did that just happen?

Overhead, as Theo dashed forward to see what he could do for Kayden, the rain began to ease off.


End of Part Eight

Part Nine

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est


Part Nine: Luck is in the Eye of the Beholder


[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal. Certain descriptive passages are entirely thanks to her.]


June 16, 2010
Off the Florida Keys

"Janet!"

She clung to the safety rail with both hands, hauling her way along it toward the stern. The Avalon pitched deeply into the oncoming waves, blue-green walls of water riding over the deck to smash into her, doing their best to wrench her free and send her flailing into the water. Given that she had neglected to don her lifejacket before venturing out on deck, this would almost certainly result in her death.

"Janet, come back! It's not safe!"

Harvey's voice was barely audible over the roar of the sea and the howl of the wind through the halyards. Of course it's not safe. None of this is safe. But she knew what she had to do. The mainsail had come free during the storm and was now fouling the rudder, making it hard to keep the bow into the wind. Worse, if it tangled the prop, their only means of making headway in these heavy seas would be gone. They would broach-to in moments, and capsize shortly after that.

On her belt was the heavy clasp-knife that her father had given to her when she first began going to sea; she knew that she could cut loose the errant sail, if only she could reach it. All she had to do was reach it.

Slitting her eyes against the howling wind and the abrasive spray, she reached the point where the twisted sail ran over the rail and into the heaving ocean below. Pausing to secure her safety line properly, she pulled the knife from its pouch and opened it with her teeth. The blade, more than four inches long and kept razor-sharp, would do the job. She began cutting, more and more of the tough fabric parting with each stroke.

When the mainstay gave way, she felt it more than heard it. Looking up, she saw the mast tilt and begin to fall. But it fell sideways, not backward. Even as it splashed into the chaotic swells, she felt the change in the yacht's movement.

The loss of the mast spelled the loss of the boat; she knew that in her bones. No matter what she did with the sail, the mast would act as a sea anchor, dragging Avalon around until she was beam-on to the driving rollers. The yacht wouldn't last long after that.

"Harvey!" she screamed. "Abandon ship! We're going down!"

Already, the boat was coming around. She couldn't wait to see what Harvey did, and she couldn't haul her way back to the cockpit in time. All she could do was save herself, and trust that he would do the same. A life-belt was attached to the rail; she grabbed it and slashed through the safety line that held her to the boat. In another moment, she was overboard, smashed into the ocean by the waves.

Salt water slapped her in the face, and she held her breath. Dragged under, into a cool world of green with bright bubbles, the waves a distant thunder overhead, she felt the pressure on her ears. The life-belt, tugging her toward the surface, began to slip from her grip. She had no choice; dropping the knife, she wound the line from the life-belt around her left forearm as tightly as she could.

But the surface seemed to be getting farther away, not closer. Pressure built in her ears. She kicked desperately, to no avail. Precious bubbles escaped her lips. She opened her mouth, desperate to breathe …

<><>​

Present Day
Brockton Bay, NH

Water filled her lungs and pressure surrounded her arms. No! Fight! Fight, dammit! Janet surged upright, her hands and feet striking out against the danger. She was up on her knees then her feet, whirling in tight circles with her hands flailing, until her knuckles crunched against the wall and the pain broke through her panic.

Alive. The word took a few seconds to sink in, and when it did, she fell to her knees with her head pressed into the mattress edge. Holy shit. Her heavy breathing against the sheets bounced back into her face, reminding her that she was on dry land. It wasn't real any more. She was alive. She was safe.

She finally reached a shaking hand out to the right and miraculously found the touch lamp she had bought a week earlier. Blessed light filled the room, confirming her safety. Somehow, she found enough strength to crawl back on to the bed and flop face first on to the pillow.

Long minutes later, she rolled over to check the display on the cheap digital clock residing on the motel nightstand. Her left forearm jolted against the edge of the stand, making her hiss with pain. Lifting it, she examined the end of the stump, just short of where the wrist would have been. She had made it to the surface, but the boat was gone, as was Harvey. With no life-jacket, no food, no water, she should have died.

For seven days and six nights she had drifted, at the mercy of the wind and the water. The life-belt which had saved her life had taken her hand; so tightly had she wound the rope around her forearm, she had cut off blood circulation, and by the time the Coast Guard cutter had picked her up, the hand was a dead loss. Six months on, and the stump was still tender.

"Christ," she muttered, still eyeing the clock. "This early?"

The numbers mocked her; it got dark early, this far north. She had thought that it was later than that. But already, despite the cool breeze sweeping through the window, she was covered in sweat. This wasn't due to the non-existent heat of the night, but to her own fears. The odour of incipient rain came to her nostrils. Fuck off, she told it silently.

For a long moment, she considered getting the bottle out of her duffel bag and using the contents to lull her to sleep. It would not be the first time she'd done that, nor would it be the last. But she had no desire to wake up in a strange town with a hangover, so instead she decided on a shower. I stink, anyway.

Rolling off the bed, she skinned out of the brief top and mid-length pants which served her as pyjamas. It only took a few steps for her to reach the motel bathroom, where she turned on the light and surveyed herself with disdain.

Her short-cut auburn hair was messier than it had any right to be and her face was still flushed with the aftermath of adrenaline. There were bags under her blue-green eyes, which she did her best to ignore. I need more sleep. I really do. An image of the bottle in the bag came to her once more; she gritted her teeth and shook her head.

Shorter than most, she stood five foot three on the cold tiles of the bathroom. Broad shoulders and a certain amount of muscular development robbed her of the 'petite' descriptor, although thanks to the lack of a hand, her left arm was losing its condition.

But that was only the beginning of her problems.

<><>​

Janet let the hot water wash over her back and shoulders, flushing away the stink of her terror. A shower she could handle, but not a tub. She didn't like any situation where she could be submerged and drown. Swimming pools gave Janet cold shivers, and she never went near large bodies of water if she could possibly help it. But even in a shower, she didn't like having water running over her face. Wetting a washcloth, Janet wiped it over her face and scalp, shuddering at the feeling of water trickling down her cheek.

Those cold, uncaring waters had swallowed the man she loved as well as the Avalon, and she could not help but feel that they wanted her as well; that she was living on borrowed time. And it was even worse when the water reached for her.

She clenched her eyes shut, trying to rein in her swirling emotions. Overhead, there was the mutter of thunder. Rain sounded on the roof, over the noise of her own shower. Stop it, she told it silently. No rain. No thunder. No lightning. No storm. Not today. Please.

By the time she finished the shower, the rain had passed. She was feeling calmer. With luck, it will settle down again. I have a good feeling about this city.

Briskly, she towelled herself dry – her left arm couldn't do much except pin the towel to her body, but at least it could do that much – then put on clean underwear. I think I'll watch some TV then go back to bed.

When she stepped out of the bathroom into the main area of the motel room, there was a stranger sitting in the room's only chair.

<><>​

"Who are you?" Janet retreated a step, fear burning in her guts. They found me. Oh god, they found me. "What do you want?"

The woman, whose fedora and belted trench-coat gave her a slightly dated appearance, looked up from her book. Janet registered it as The Lonely Sea; once one of her favourites, it was now a book she couldn't even pick up without shuddering. "Oh, there you are," the woman said. "Just in time."

"Just in time for what?" demanded Janet. "What are you doing in my motel room?"

"So that you could come with me and help save the world, of course," the woman explained. She stood up from the chair without a single wasted motion – a feat deserving of respect, Janet knew, after having nearly been permanently trapped by the thing – and slipped the book into her coat pocket.

Janet shook her head. "No. No way. Nope. You want me to use my powers. I'm not going there."

The woman raised one perfect eyebrow. "Are you so worried about losing control?"

Clenching her fist so strongly that her short-trimmed nails almost cut into her palm, Janet shook her head. "I've never had control," she snapped. "I get worried about something, it starts to drizzle. I wake up after a nightmare and it's raining. I walk past a swimming-pool and the water reaches for me." She took a deep breath. "I hate water!"

"Are you aware that your powers won't let you drown?" The woman's voice was quiet. "Or that they saved your life after the yacht went down? Did you honestly think the fact that you survived for a week drinking seawater with so few ill effects was a coincidence?"

Janet blinked. "My powers saved me?"

The woman smiled. "Yes. They saved you."

"Oh. Uh …" Janet frowned. "But I'm not going to use them. I know what'll happen to me as soon as people realise I've got the same powers as … as him."

"You could use your powers to mitigate the damage he does." Her tone was softly persuasive.

"No way. Uh-uh." Janet shook her head violently. "I'm not looking to fight anyone or anything with my powers. Least of all, Leviathan." Fear boiled up in her guts at the mere thought. "So you can go away. Now. Please." She was all the way back into the bathroom now, her butt pressed up against the washbasin.

The woman didn't move forward. "Nobody is chasing you. There's nothing to be worried about. They're not going to lock you up just for having water powers."

"Tell that to Canary!"

A grimace. "Canary is … a special case. Unfortunate, but necessary. You, on the other hand, haven't hurt anyone. Nobody really knows you even have these powers."

Janet took a deep breath, forcing down her fear. "And yet, you're here. Talking to me about them."

"Well, yes." The woman's smile was warm, conspiratorial. "I'm a special case, too."

"Why are you here?" Janet demanded again.

"I told you." The woman tilted her head slightly. "To help save the world. Or rather, to take one small step on the path toward saving the world. In this case, to help save a teenage girl from an emotionally abusive father." She paused. "And of course, there is the matter of money. You're short on it. I can pay you ten thousand dollars to do this, right here, right now."

Janet frowned. She could feel the initiative slipping away from her. "So … I don't have to fight Leviathan."

The woman chuckled. "Well, no. I would hardly ask you to do that, when you've barely got a grasp on your powers. All you have to do in this situation is make it rain." She reached into one of her trench-coat pockets and pulled out a thick wad of notes. "Ten thousand dollars, going once …"

<><>​

"I'm still not saying I'll do this." Janet awkwardly pulled the top over her head, slid her arms through the sleeves.

"I understand." The woman stepped out of the bathroom with Janet's toiletries in her hands. "You might need these."

Janet frowned. "I'm not coming back?"

The woman snorted. "Hardly. You can afford much better accommodation now."

There was no arguing with that. The ten thousand dollars – a hundred hundred-dollar bills – now rested securely inside her duffel bag. "So where are we going?" She tucked her top into her jeans, a little awkwardly.

"Not far, actually." The woman waited until she had hoisted the duffel on to her shoulder, then murmured something that sounded like 'doorway'.

That was when Janet knew for a fact that things would never be the same again, as a rectangular portal opened in midair. On the other side was … a rooftop. A very mundane rooftop, but still a rooftop where no such thing should be.

The woman gestured toward the impossible opening in space. "Shall we?"

Numbly, Janet stepped forward.

<><>​

Gravel crunched beneath her sneakers. She looked around; as far as she could tell, she was standing on the roof of an inner-city building, maybe five or ten storeys high. Shrugging her shoulder, she shifted the weight of the duffel slightly. "So what are we doing here?"

She wasn't quite sure where the woman had acquired the golf umbrella from, but there it was. The woman opened it expertly and held it up over the two of them. "You're making it rain. As hard as you can."

Janet blinked. "But … what if I can't make it stop?"

Her companion smiled. "Trust me on this. You can make it stop."

Ten thousand dollars. I can do this.

She took a deep breath and began to concentrate. Overhead, thunder rolled. The sky was already overcast; the clouds thickened as if by magic. Or by my power. She was already more than a little agitated; it wasn't hard to push it just a little more.

One by one, then harder and faster, the raindrops began to fall. They drummed on the umbrella. Thunder rolled again. The rain became a downpour.

<><>​

"How long do I keep it raining for?" She had to raise her voice to be heard over the tumult of rain on the roof access, much less the real thunder overhead. "And is it safe for us to be out like this?"

"It's safe." The woman's voice held absolute conviction. "Your power won't let the storm hurt us. And just a bit longer. How are you holding up?"

"I – I'm not sure." Janet felt that she should be repulsed by the water surrounding her on all sides. But at the same time as it made her skin crawl, it whispered to her. Let the power flow, it told her without words. Embrace it. Reach your full strength.

It was tempting. Oh, so tempting. But she couldn't. A stray droplet splashed on to her face and she shuddered, hastily wiping it off.

Then she heard a sound from the direction of the fire escape. The rain was hammering on it already, but this was different, as though someone was climbing up – or down – the metal steps. Up, she decided. It was getting louder.

She knew when whoever it was reached the top of the fire escape because the clanging noise stopped and a splashing began; the person was running across the rooftop. Toward the roof access. Toward her.

She stepped back; the woman holding the umbrella did the same thing. I don't want to be seen. Don't want to have to explain what I'm doing here. The rain was still very heavy, but if someone came close enough, she would be visible to them.

And then the roof access door opened. Whoever had been running across the roof stopped. Janet heard a man's voice, barely audible over the rain.

"You didn't think you could get away that easily, did you?"

"Maybe not," a girl's voice retorted defiantly. "But you can't keep me locked up. And soon as I'm gone, Mom's gone too. You know it and I know it. So why don't you just go take a long walk off a short pier and save us all a lot of trouble?"

<><>​

For one heart-stopping moment, when the curtains of water had parted to show her the man and the red-headed girl, she thought that the rain had stopped and that she was in full view. But the water continued to pound on the umbrella and neither one turned to look at her. The conversation, which she had been straining to hear, was now easily audible.

"Annette, you misunderstand the situation," the man said smoothly. Janet didn't trust him for a moment; at first, she thought he had blood on his shirt, but then she realised that he had been splattered with pasta, and it was just the sauce she was seeing. "I want to take care of you and your mother. You're my daughter; I wish to show you just where that can take you. All of your needs will be met."

"All the ones you think need to be met, anyway," she said, still backing away from him. "What about what I want to do? What if I want to go out with a boy? I can just tell you'd be the overbearing father type."

In the next moment, a bright light flashed past, the source indistinct through the pouring rain. It circled around, then came in for a landing on the roof; the light went out again, leaving Janet unsure as to what had just happened. She concentrated on seeing in that direction; as before, the concealing rain seemed to fade away, and she could see a woman standing there.

The newcomer was petite, with mousy brown hair that was even now plastered to her scalp by the downpour. She stepped forward, obviously coming within view of the man and the girl, to differing reactions.

"Kayden." The man's voice was not pleased. "What are you doing here?"

"Ms Russel? You're a cape? Wow! I never even guessed!" The girl's voice held more than a little fangirl-squee in it.

"What's going on?" murmured Janet to the woman who still held the umbrella. "What am I even doing here?"

The woman's voice was just as quiet. "You'll see, in just a moment."

Janet looked back at the standoff. The newcomer – Kayden – had put herself between the man and the girl. "Max. This stops now."

The man shook his head. "No. This is none of your concern. Step aside."

"No. I'm not going to let you do this."

"Kayden, you don't know what's going on here. This is my daughter."

"I know exactly what's going on here," she retorted. The roof access door opened again, but Janet couldn't see who was there.

Kayden was still talking. "You want to ruin that girl's life, just like you ruined Theo's. You want to get into her mother's head, just like you did mine." She paused. "What I don't understand is why you're being so bull-headed about this. This is remarkably clumsy, Max, especially for you."

The man might have chuckled. "Blame Andrea for that. Unlike you, she doesn't think things through and come to a reasoned, logical answer. All too often, she acts far too much on impulse. I can't reason with her. I've never been able to."

"So let her go." Kayden's voice was matter of fact. "Let them both go."

He shook his head. "Andrea is my one great love. Annette is my daughter. I can't let them go. Surely you can see that."

A pudgy boy and a petite redheaded woman, shorter even than Janet herself, moved away from the roof access and around to the side. The girl went to meet them; Janet presumed that she was the woman's daughter. Is this the 'Annette' and 'Andrea' that he just mentioned?

"You're going to have to, Max," said Kayden. "If you keep forcing them to accept this, you'll break them. They don't deserve this. I'm not going to let you do it."

Slowly, Max shook his head. "Kayden. Kayden, Kayden, Kayden. When are you going to learn? You can't stop me from doing anything. Nobody can, but most especially you. Or would you like a reminder of why this is?"

Janet didn't know what he meant, but Kayden obviously did. "No. You can't hold that over my head any more. I'll fight -"

"And lose." He cut her off. "Like Annette, she's my daughter by blood. Financially, I'm far more capable of caring for her than you are. It might prove a little more tricky to show you up as an unfit mother, but -"

Even after seeing Kayden fly in using powers – which had been a shock – it was still a surprise when she lit up once more, the glare lighting up the raindrops for yards around. "No!" shouted the glowing woman.

Holy crap, she's gonna -

But she did nothing. It was Max who stepped forward when she hesitated, Max who grew a steel blade from his hand in an instant. Oh shit, he's a cape too!

Janet, frozen to the spot, watched the blade flicker forth, ending its stroke in Kayden's stomach. The petite woman collapsed to her knees, holding the wound. It was a bad one; blood was already staining her dress.

"Max …" whispered Kayden. Only Janet heard it; for anyone else, it would have been too quiet to hear through the storm.

Numbly, she watched as he stepped to the side of the stricken woman. "I can stand initiative." His voice was harsh. "I can stand defiance, at least for a while." He raised the blade as her head slumped forward. "But the one thing I cannot countenance is betrayal."

The woman's voice was just a murmur in Janet's ear. "Are you going to just let him murder her?"

The horror Janet felt at the scene being played out before her crystallised in an instant, catalysed by those words. She took a deep breath. No.

The blade had just reached the limit of its upward arc when the streamer from the clouds above stretched down, seeking a conductor of electricity. It touched the tip of the sword that Max held; this was a very good conductor indeed. Over the next few fractions of a second, faster than Janet could perceive, the link strengthened.

Then the lightning surged upward from the ground, through the building, through Max and ultimately through the sword. With an ear-splitting crack and a blinding flash, it leaped skyward along the path that had been opened, discharging itself into the clouds above. In the process, it directed an infeasible amount of electricity through the body of the man holding what had turned out to be an excellent lightning-rod.

Max fell, the sword clattering from his hand to lie a short distance away; the tip of the blade, still glowing red, hissed as it lay in a puddle. Half-blinded by the flash, ears still ringing from the close-range thunderclap, Janet turned to ask the woman what do I do now? But somehow, it turned out that she was holding the umbrella. The woman was gone.

Without her conscious will behind it, the rain began to ease off. Oh shit, they're gonna see me! There was no way she was going to be climbing down any ladders one-handed, so her best bet was to hide. Turning to look for someplace to conceal herself, she felt her foot push something across the gravel; it was heavy and unyielding. She looked down, and saw a medical kit, the type that paramedics took into the field. Or the type that she'd taken on board the Avalon, once upon a time.

Where the hell did that come from?

A moment later, she realised just how stupid the question was; the woman in the trench-coat had procured it, in the same way that she had produced the golf umbrella. Probably using that damn doorway, or whatever she called it.

On a whim, she muttered 'doorway' herself, just to see what would happen.

Nothing did, of course. And I have no idea what I would've done if something had happened.

The rain had stopped altogether now; overhead, the clouds were melting away like snow in the sun. And kneeling on the roof was the woman. She had her hands pressed to her stomach, but blood was pumping out between her fingers. The red-headed woman knelt down beside her, talking urgently to her, her voice too low for Janet to hear what was being said.

Shit. I killed that guy to save her, but she'll die if I don't do something.

If I step forward now, they'll know that something's up. It's not like people just hang out on rooftops in rainstorms with medical kits, waiting for someone to get stabbed.

But if I don't, she'll die.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself. Time to own this shit and stop being a pussy about it. I've been running too long anyway.

Discarding the umbrella, she took up the case – it was heavy, but she could carry it one-handed – and stepped forward. Her feet crunched on the wet gravel, and the two teenagers looked around.

Before they could say or do anything, the roof access door opened again, and two more teenagers spilled out. One, a tall brunette, held a squalling baby; the other one looked about twelve.

"Theo, the thunder woke her up, and she won't -" began the older girl, before she took in the scene before her. "Holy shit! Ms Russel!"

"Who are you?" asked the pudgy boy, looking at Janet and ignoring the girl's exclamation. "What are you doing up here?"

The younger girl looked around and her expression just lit up. A smile spread across her face. "She's here to help," the girl chirped. "Taylor, give Aster to Theo and help this lady with her medical kit. Theo, take Aster downstairs and get her settled. Annette, go down and bring one of Kaiser's men up here. They need to know he's dead. Ms Campbell, call nine-one-one and tell them we've got a woman with a traumatic penetrating wound to the abdomen. They'll respond faster if it's an adult calling." She pulled a phone from her pocket and tossed it to Andrea. The red-headed woman stared at it as if she had no idea what it was.

Looking around at everyone, the girl stopped talking. Then she clapped her hands twice. "Well, come on! Ms Russel's not gonna save her own life, here!"

People started moving again; the tall brunette handed the baby to the pudgy boy, who hurried inside with her. Then she came over to Janet. "Uh, hi, I'm Taylor. What can I do?"

"I can always do with an extra hand or two," Janet said briefly. "Do what I tell you and she might just make it through this alive." She pointedly ignored the corpse of Kaiser lying not two yards from the woman he'd tried to murder. Not only could she not help him, but even if she could have, she would not.

The red-headed woman got out of her way, tapping numbers into the phone that the girl had given her. As Janet knelt beside Kayden, she heard Andrea say, "Ambulance, please. And police. And, uh, PRT, I guess."

Janet's nerve nearly failed her right then. The very last people she wanted to talk to were the PRT. I'm pretty sure that killing a cape, even defending someone else, is something they won't be happy about. It didn't help that her brain was just starting to make the connection; while she wasn't exactly clued-in to the cape scene in Brockton Bay, Kaiser was a name that she'd heard before. And I killed him. There's a lot of ways that this could go badly wrong.

But if I do nothing, she'll die anyway. "Taylor," she said urgently. "Help her lie down, on her back. We have to get pressure on the wound." But even if she did, she knew that Kayden could still die from lack of blood. I got my advanced first aid certificate before we went out on Avalon, but that was months ago.

Unfastening the lid on the kit, she opened it, and blinked. Who leaves bags of blood expander in a medical kit? But there they were, right where she needed them. Okay, we might just win this.

<><>​

Annette took the stairs two at a time, one hand on the rail to steady herself. Her head was buzzing with the events of the night, the adrenaline still pumping from the confrontation with … well, with Kaiser. Holy shit, my dad was a supervillain. And holy shit, he got struck by lightning, right in front of me. She wasn't sure how she felt about that; he was a dick, and a murderer, but she wasn't totally sure that he needed to die because of that. Okay, so he was gonna kill Ms Russel. She decided to shelve the ethical dilemma for later.

Pushing the doors open, she stepped out on to the front stairs of the building. Kaiser's car was there, with two men waiting next to it. Or if it wasn't Kaiser's car, then some other pretentious rich bastard had chosen to take up two car spaces with a stretch limo.

Both men looked around as she trotted down the steps, then stepped forward. "That's her," she heard one of them mutter to the other.

"Hey, which of you is Scooby Doo and which one's Shaggy?" she asked.

The one on the left, slightly taller and more muscle-bound, stared at her. "Fuckin' say what?"

"Thanks, Scoob," she retorted cheekily. "Just so you know, your boss is dead."

The two goons stared at each other, then back at Annette. "What the fuck are you talking about?" demanded the one that she'd christened 'Scooby'.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, apparently, he decided it was a good idea to wave a big metal spike around in a thunderstorm. One order of crispy fried Max Anders, to go."

"Fuck." That was Scooby.

"Think she's fucking with us?" Shaggy looked at her suspiciously.

"Well, there was that fucking great lightning strike."

"Wow, Scoob, you found the clue!" Annette clapped ironically. "You see how my hair's a bit frizzled? You hear me talking a bit loud? I was about as far away from him as you are from me when he got fuckin' struck by lightning. I mean, he coulda got more dead if he went and nutsacked Behemoth, but not much more, know what I mean?"

<><>​

Joseph Kellerman had never considered himself to be an overly intelligent man. But the way this kid – who, if he understood things right, was the boss's daughter – was talking, the boss was dead. He wasn't quite sure what the 'waving a metal spike' thing was all about, but there had been a big fuck-off lightning strike just before the rain stopped, so …

"What do we do?" asked Lars. He was the dumber of the two. They were both tough enough and ruthless enough to do what the boss said without worrying too much about who got hurt in the process. Unfortunately, smarts hadn't been on the criteria when they were being picked for the job, and with Lars it showed. Which meant that, with the boss not there and possibly dead, Joe was in charge. So he had to decide what to do next. What would Mr Anders do?

Joe made his decision. "Stay here," he ordered Lars. "If the kid or the woman comes out without me, stop 'em." He paused, then decided to make things absolutely clear. With Lars, you had to do this. A stupid, violent man, he tended to do things in stupid, violent ways unless he was given careful instructions. "Don't. Hurt. Them. Got me?"

Lars nodded. "If the kid or the woman come out, stop 'em. Don't hurt 'em. Got it."

"Good." Joe turned to the kid. "Okay, kid. Show me. But don't try anything funny. 'Cause the boss already told us that a few bruises were forgiveable if you tried to make a break for it."

"Wow, Scoob, it's almost like you don't believe me," she snarked. "Come on then."

He followed her into the building. "And don't call me Scooby."

"Fiiiine." Somehow, he just knew she was rolling her eyes. "You're Fred, he's Barney. Better?"

It was like she was trying to push his buttons. "Listen, you little shit -"

She stopped and whirled on him. Halfway up the first flight of stairs as they were, she was on the same eye-level as he was. The chirpiness had gone from her voice, replaced by a cold, deadly tone. "No, you fucking listen. Max Anders is my fucking father. If I know his type, he's already registered the paperwork to make it official. So I'm legally his daughter. Which means that as his oldest child, I'm in line for every fucking thing he owns and runs. Which includes the Empire fucking Eighty-Eight." She leaned closer. "So if and when I end up giving you your orders, how do you really want me to remember this conversation?"

Before he could answer, she turned and kept climbing the stairs. It was only because of his longer legs and because he spent so much time in the gym that he managed to keep up with her. Not that he had anything to say; in his mind, he was churning over the information that she'd given him. If she ends up as the boss …

Politeness, he decided, was the best course of action for now.

<><>​

He followed her out of the roof access, which had been propped open by a brick. It was amazingly dry up here, he decided. There was no water pooling anywhere, especially near where - "Fuck! Is that Mrs Anders?"

"Yeah, that's her," the kid said flatly. "Your boss stabbed her just before he got made into a Tater Tot. There he is, over there."

Joe didn't look where she was pointing, at first. It was Kayden Anders, sure enough. The boss's wife. She was lying on her back, covered in blood. A woman he didn't know was applying a bandage to her stomach, while a teenager with glasses taped it into place. Another kid, this one maybe ten years old, held an IV bag that fed into Mrs Anders' arm. Andrea Campbell, the one person in this group that he actually knew, was standing by, talking on the phone.

"Who are they?" he asked, pointing at the people working on his boss's wife.

The kid gave him an impatient look. "Do you want me to introduce them all to you, or do you want me to show you where your damn boss is?"

Oh, shit. Yeah. Joe looked around, and saw him. He was lying on his back, sightless eyes staring up at the sky. There was a red stain on his shirt that made him reach under his jacket. "I thought you said he got struck by lightning."

"He did." The scorn in her voice was evident even to him. "That's pasta sauce. I hit him in the face with a plate of lasagna."

It was evident to him that she was leaving a lot out, but then, he wasn't the cops. Why did you do that? and Why did he stab Mrs Anders? and What was he even doing on the rooftop? all paled before one important question. Is he really dead?

Max Anders' normally immaculate hair was all standing on end, but that didn't prove anything. Joe bent down and felt for a pulse; it was one of the few medical things he knew how to do. There was nothing, but as he got closer, he could smell a persistent odour of cooked meat. Oh, shit. I think that's him. Fighting down the urge to turn aside and throw up, he kept looking.

Near Mr Anders' outflung hand was indeed a long metal spike, though on closer inspection it seemed to be more like a blade. Where he'd gotten it from, Joe had no idea; he certainly hadn't been carrying it in the car. He must have found it up here.

There was a burn on the palm of Anders' hand, continuing around on to his fingers. About what someone would get if they were holding a metal rod that got struck by lightning, Joe figured. He took another look at the tip of the spike, where the first six inches were charred and blackened. "Is that where -"

"The lightning struck, yeah." She was looking away, breathing shallowly. "He was dead before he knew it."

Yeah, I can believe it. Straightening up, he looked down at his boss's body. Well, shit. What the fuck do I do now?

Taking a deep breath, he tried to steady his whirling thoughts. Okay, first things first. Pulling out his phone, he dialled Lars' number.

"Hello?"

"It's Joe."

"Oh. What's happening? Nobody's come out."

"No, they're both up here. So's Mr Anders."

"Oh. What's he say to do?"

"He's not … he's dead. Mr Anders is dead." He felt a hollow space in his chest at those words.

" … what."

"The kid was telling the truth. Mr Anders got struck by lightning. He's dead. I'm looking at his body right now."

"What the fuck do we do now?"

He wanted to answer Fucked if I know, but he knew that he couldn't. Lars was depending on him to know what to do. Taking a deep breath, he cast around for inspiration. "Uh, right, okay. We'll, uh, withdraw for the moment. Pull back. Call the other higher-ups, let them know about this. They'll have plans for this sort of thing." At least, I fuckin' hope they do.

"Do we grab the woman and the kid?"

Joe eyed the people on the rooftop. "No, not a good idea. Too many witnesses." And if the kid's gonna be my boss someday, I don't want to piss her off now.

"What about the boss? We just gonna leave him?"

He considered that. "Yeah, I think we're gonna have to. Pretty sure the cops have been told about this, so if the body just disappears, they'll be looking for us."

"So we're just going, then?"

"Yeah. I'll be down in a second. Call the other guys. Tell 'em we're pulling back." Truth be told, he wasn't a hundred percent sure that leaving the woman and the girl was the best idea, but the boss was dead now, and whatever plans he had for them would have to wait. Shutting down his phone, he knelt beside the boss's body and gently patted him down.

"What the hell are you doing?" That was the kid, almost standing over him. "He's dead, you freak!"

"Getting his phone," he said shortly, lifting up one side of Max Anders' jacket to reach inside.

"Hey, if I'm gonna be the boss, then that's my phone, so leave it."

Still kneeling, he looked up at her. "If you're gonna be the boss, then I'm taking it so the cops don't get their hands on it. You'll get it back. If you're not … then I'm taking it so the next boss gets it. Either way, I'm not leaving it here, kid."

"But …" She trailed off, probably trying to figure out a counter-argument. In the meantime, he felt his fingers close over the thing that he sought. Pulling it out of Anders' jacket, he slid it into his pants pocket.

"But nothing. Maybe you'll be my boss someday and maybe you won't." He stood up and brushed his knees off. "Either way, I'm protecting the Empire. See you around, kid."

He headed for the roof exit, leaving her staring at his back. The phone in his pocket seemed to burn a hole in his very skin; he couldn't wait to pass it on to someone higher up the line. I hope Mr Fleischer is answering his phone.

<><>​

Andrea looked down at Kayden's pale face, partially obscured by the breathing mask. "So, is she going to make it?"

The paramedic finished hooking the IV bag on to the tree in the ambulance. "Well, I don't like to make snap judgements, but her vitals are pretty good for someone who's just been stabbed. If you and your friends hadn't been here to patch her up and put fluids into her, she'd likely be dead by now."

"Yeah." She nodded, smiling wanly at the man. "I didn't do much helping. I just called you guys."

He chuckled as he double-checked the clamps holding the gurney in place. "Trust me, calling nine-one-one is one of the best things you can do in an emergency. Sometimes it's the only thing. And it's never a bad thing. You did all right."

"Thanks." She watched as he pulled the doors shut. A moment later, the ambulance started up and moved off down the street.

"She going to be okay, Mom?" That was Annette, beside her.

"I hope so, honey." Andrea put her arm around her daughter's shoulders, then pulled her into a full hug. Annette responded in kind; they shared a moment of closeness, reaffirming their strong bond. "You did good tonight. Just saying."

"I hope Taylor's dad's gonna be okay." Danny had shown up around the same time as the police, a bruise already forming on his jaw.

"He should be all right." She looked across at where Danny stood close to his daughter, talking quietly to her. "They should be all right."

"You like him a lot, don't you, Mom?" As always, Annette was very direct.

"Yeah, honey, I like him a lot." She sighed softly. "He tried to fight Max to help me. Even if Max put him down, he still tried. That means a lot to me."

"Me too." Annette looked around, first at where the police were still interviewing everyone they could find, then up at the apartment building itself. "So what's gonna happen now?"

Andrea smiled. "I don't know, but I think we're gonna have fun finding out."

<><>​

Emily Piggot gripped the phone a little more tightly. "Repeat that, please."

"We believe that Kaiser is dead, ma'am. We were called to an apartment complex with a dead man and a wounded woman on the roof. Witnesses at the scene positively identified the dead man, Max Anders, as Kaiser. There was a metal blade nearby, essentially identical to Kaiser's usual creations. The lab is currently testing it. Every indication shows that he died from being struck by lightning. Our current supposition is that the wounded woman is Purity. She has the right body type."

" … right. So were they fighting a lightning-generating cape? Do we even have one of those in Brockton Bay?" As far as Emily knew, there wasn't one, but that sort of thing could change at any moment.

The officer on the other end sounded positively apologetic. "Uh, no, ma'am. It seems like a legitimate lightning strike. From the thunderstorm we had earlier this evening."

"So how was Purity wounded? Was she struck by lightning as well?"

"No, ma'am. She's been stabbed. We're reasonably certain that Kaiser is the perpetrator, considering that there are traces of blood on the blade. This is also being tested for a match."

Piggot blinked for a long moment, then leaned back in her chair. "So what you're telling me is that Kaiser and Purity clashed on top of an apartment building. He stabbed her, then got struck by lightning."

"That's essentially it, yes, ma'am."

She sat forward again. "Well, I'm not buying it. Keep digging. Something like this just doesn't fall into our laps. There's more to it, and I want to know what it is."

His voice was resigned. She didn't care. "Yes, ma'am."

Piggot hung up the phone, and turned her chair to look out over Brockton Bay's nightscape. However it happened, Kaiser's dead. This is going to cause a lot of problems.

It might solve a few, she knew, especially now that the PRT was aware of Medhall's Empire ties, but more would crop up than be solved.

Such was the way of the world.

<><>​

Janet sat nervously on the sofa with her duffel on her lap, the medical kit on the floor in front of her. Danny Hebert sat in an armchair opposite her; Andrea perched on the arm of the chair.

"Okay, so we covered for you with the cops," Andrea said simply. "You didn't want to talk to them, which I can kind of understand. But we need to understand now. What's going on? What were you even doing on the roof?"

I've gotta trust someone, sometime. Taking a deep breath, Janet made a leap of faith. "I've got powers," she began.


End of Part Nine

Part Ten

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Ten: New Pieces on the Board



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



" … and when I looked around, she was gone," Janet concluded. "But then I saw the first-aid kit, so I brought it over." She paused to sip at the cup of tea that Andrea had made for her. "The rest, you know."

Silence fell, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the wall. Danny glanced up at Andrea, the movement making the bruise on his jaw more obvious. A silent communication passed between them, before Danny looked at Janet again. "Normally, I'd call bullshit on everything you've said," he said evenly. "But that approach falls down in the face of the overwhelming evidence. You showed up at exactly the right time, with exactly the right power to deal with Anders once and for all. In addition, you had a fully stocked first-aid kit, which is all that stood between Ms Russel living or dying."

"Which would've been impossible to carry up the fire-escape one-handed, I might add," Andrea added cheerfully. "So there's that too. Which leads us to the next problem."

"Next problem?" Janet asked, becoming suddenly wary. She didn't think that Danny and Andrea meant her actual harm, but the word 'problem' wasn't one she liked.

"Yeah." Danny didn't seem to have consulted with Andrea, but he picked right up on her train of thought. "The bit about saving the world by getting Annette loose from Max Anders. That's kind of … ominous."

"She did say 'one small step on the path'," Janet reminded him. "It's not the whole of the thing. From the sound of it, there's more that needs to be done."

"It's not that," Andrea said, sounding somewhat aggrieved. "I made a deal with Annette years ago. No destroying or saving the world before she's twenty-one, and to give me adequate warning before she does so. And there goes your mysterious woman in a fedora, just coming in from left field and ruining my entire schedule."

Janet stared at the petite redhead, then looked at Danny. "Is she serious?"

Danny shrugged and spread his hands helplessly. "This is the most I've seen of her in sixteen years, but from what I recall of her, it's something she'd do."

"What, you mean you haven't made a deal like that with Taylor?" Andrea gave Danny an extremely concerned look. "Seriously, you have to be kidding. You know how teenagers can get. If you don't get a promise like that out of them, the next thing you know they're beating the Simurgh at six-dimensional chess or inviting the Queen of Air and Darkness over for afternoon tea. And you know how she is about her light snacks." She glanced over at Janet, who was wondering just what the hell was going on. "If you offer her anything low-fat or gluten-free, she goes totally off the deep end. It's just not worth it."

Danny raised his eyebrows. "So, has Annette actually done any of that?" He sounded as though he wouldn't be surprised if she had.

"Well, not yet," conceded Andrea. "Like I said, I made a deal with her. Mind you, I forgot to ask her to warn me before introducing old not-quite-boyfriends back into my life, which was entirely my fault." She gave Janet a cheerful grin. "As for rain goddesses, well, that's not something I can really blame Annette for, so she's off the hook for that one."

"I'm not a rain goddess." It was about the one thing Janet was sure of in all of this. "I'm just a cape that controls water and weather." As uncomfortable as she was with doing either.

"And you're wound about as tight as the mainspring on Rip Van Winkle's alarm clock," Andrea decided. "When was the last time you had a good night's sleep? I mean, slept all the way through the night with no bad dreams?" The redhead was now looking at her intently.

Janet wondered if Andrea was a Thinker who could see into her head. "Uh, not recently."

"Translation: not since I got my powers." Andrea's voice was utterly certain. She slid off the arm of Danny's chair and strolled over to where Janet sat. "So, have you had sex since then?"

Janet blinked, her brain refusing to process the last question. " … what?" Is she coming on to me, or just asking a really intrusive question?

"Sex." Andrea's voice was patient. "Love. Lust. Screwing. Fucking. The beast with two backs. The horizontal mambo. Or, you know, standing, if that's your thing. Or are you into women?" Her wink was perhaps the single most salacious facial gesture that Janet had ever seen. "I mean, I'm more that way inclined myself, but I'm gonna be making an exception for Danny when we get the chance. Just saying."

"Uh. no." Janet managed to coax her brain into forming words, where it just wanted to run away and gibber in the corner. Well, I got my answer. Both. "Not into women."

"Oh, well. Pity." Andrea sighed. "Anyway, you haven't gotten laid once since you got your powers? Geez, no wonder you're all messed up in the head. That's what you need, I bet. Sex, and lots of it. Relaxes anyone."

"Andrea." Danny's voice was mild, but it held a note of censure. "Ease off on her. She's not used to you. Hasn't been immunised yet."

Andrea blew a raspberry at him. "No fair. You know how I get around women with muscles."

That got her an eye-roll. "Yeah. The same way you get around everyone else."

"Hey! I resemble that remark!" Andrea almost sounded angry, until Janet actually thought about what she'd just said. "Just because I'm open about what I like …"

"No." Danny's voice was patient. "Normal people are 'open'. You run a street fair with dancing girls, carrying placards that spell out your preferences in detail."

"Dancing girls in bikinis," Andrea said patiently. "Get it right."

Janet rubbed at her right temple with her fingertips. Her life had been getting more and more surreal since she walked out of the bathroom to see the woman in the trenchcoat and fedora, but since meeting the redhead, she felt as though it'd taken a sharp right into the Twilight Zone. I'm not sure who's worse, the mysteriously appearing and disappearing woman, or the red-headed sex maniac. On second thought, she deleted the word 'sex'. Andrea seemed to be intent on making Janet question her sanity in general; while the redhead's preoccupation with sex was a little unsettling, it wasn't the weirdest thing about her.

Danny sighed. "Andrea, come here, please." His voice was firm, but Janet was still somewhat surprised when the redhead obediently returned to her seat on the chair arm. His arm slid around her waist, but whether it was for closer contact or to make sure that Andrea didn't get up again, it wasn't entirely clear.

Either way, Andrea wasn't protesting; instead, she grinned and slid part-way off the chair arm so that she was half-sitting on Danny's lap, one arm behind his neck. "About damn time," she said, just loud enough for Janet to hear.

"I'm sorry about that," Danny said to Janet. "Andrea tends to act out when she's been having a shitty day. Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine." Janet felt that this was almost true, for a given definition of 'fine'. "Things are just moving really fast right now. Uh, thanks for not telling the cops about me."

"We wanted to keep the situation as simple as possible," Danny pointed out. "Bringing you into the mix, especially before we knew exactly what was going on with you, would have potentially made things very complicated." He paused. "Also, my daughter and her friend advised me strongly against it."

"Uh, I'm sorry," confessed Janet. "I don't know who was who up there. There was one girl who was ordering everyone around. Is that your daughter?"

"No, that was Dinah. My daughter's Taylor. The one who helped you save Ms Russel's life." Danny gave Janet an approving look. "She said you knew exactly what to do. You've done this sort of thing before?"

"No." Janet shook her head. "But I'm certified in advanced first aid. Your daughter was extremely helpful. I couldn't have done it alone." She tried to imagine applying the appropriate first aid without the assistance that Taylor had given her, and knew it couldn't be done.

Danny nodded in agreement. "I'll be sure to tell her. But in the meantime, we have other issues to deal with. First off, what are your plans right now? Are you looking to leave Brockton Bay, or are you going to hang around for a while?"

Janet examined the carpet as she considered the question. She didn't really have anywhere to go and, while being in a seaport wasn't exactly her first choice for where she wanted to be, this was the first place she'd encountered people who were willing to see past her powers to the person beneath. Not that she'd really given anyone else a chance to even do that much, but Canary's arrest and impending trial had a way of realising her worst fears. And then there was the bizarre woman who had dumped her into this situation without so much as a fare-thee-well. Janet could think of half a dozen ways that the Kaiser situation could have been resolved without her assistance, which meant that her part in this situation wasn't over yet. And I am so very tired of running …

She raised her eyes to meet Danny's. "Suppose I decided to hang around. What's the next step? Because I have a strong feeling that the 'other issues' which you just mentioned also involve me." Which, in its own way, was even more ominous than Andrea's daughter being essential to saving the world. She had to wonder what he wanted from her.

He tilted his head. "You're not wrong. The other issues I was talking about involve the formation of a new superhero team in Brockton Bay. And you joining it, if you're interested."

Janet's speculations came to an abrupt, screeching halt. Whatever she'd thought he wanted from her – admittedly, the list was extremely short – joining a superhero team was not exactly at the top of her expectations. In fact, it was hanging somewhere off the bottom. She shook her head, staring at him. "... Come again?"

Andrea's face creased with impish glee. "That's what he said!"

Danny rolled his eyes. "Okay, that joke is getting old. Janet, I've spoken to Taylor and Dinah about this, and they're good with you knowing it. They're both capes, and they want to form a team. With you as a member, if you're interested."

And the surprises just keep coming. "Wait." Janet made a masterful effort to keep up with current events. "Your daughter's a cape. And so is Dinah. The bossy one. And they want to form a team. With me."

"Not just you," Andrea interjected. "There are others, but that's the basic situation, yeah." The ditzy attitude wasn't gone, Janet noted. Just … in abeyance. "They're good kids. Smart."

"Hold on a second." Janet held up her hand, as if to prevent any more unwanted revelations from reaching her ears. "How can you be sure it's even safe telling me about this? I could be a total asshole, or worse. Sure, I've got powers. But that means jack." It wasn't that she had the slightest intention of unmasking either of the kids, but she needed to know that Danny wasn't prone to doing things half-assed. And just blurting all this out to her felt really half-assed.

Danny chuckled and shook his head in good humour. "You didn't ask what powers they had."

This didn't seem to be any sort of answer to the question she had just posed, but she bit anyway. "Okay, what are their powers?"

Andrea grinned. "Dinah's insanely good at figuring out the right people for any sort of job. Including people she's never met before."

Janet thought back to the confusion on the roof, and how the young girl had sliced through the chaos with a few well-chosen orders. They had gone from a disorganised mob to a functioning team within seconds. "Okay," she ventured. "I can kinda see that. And Taylor?"

"Taylor's a Thinker too," Danny replied. "More specifically, she's a precog. With an accuracy measurable in the fractions of a percentile. So when she predicted that you wouldn't betray our trust if we told you about them, we believed her. Were we wrong?" His eyes, enlarged by the glasses he wore, bored into hers.

Janet sighed. "No. You weren't wrong. I'd never out them." She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. "And Dinah's sure that I'd make the perfect addition to your brand-new superhero team?"

"Yup," Andrea said at once. "But if you're worried about being the only adult on the team, don't be." Her ever-present grin came to the surface again. "Because like the man said; 'but wait, there's more'."

"Please tell me you're not on it." Janet didn't dislike Andrea – the woman's heart seemed to be in the right place – but she wasn't sure if she could take the redhead in concentrated doses. At least she's stopped hitting on me.

Andrea blew a raspberry. "Me? Hah! Nope, I'm normal. Or as normal as this fabulous bod ever gets." She stretched as much as she could in the confined space, kicking her legs out in front of her. "But we've got other prospects. Prospects who kind of required a heavy hitter already on the team as a prerequisite for joining themselves."

Janet could connect the dots as well as anyone. "And I'm that heavy hitter." Oh, great. So if I say no, the whole team's gonna fall apart. Way to guilt trip me.

"Actually, no." Danny shifted Andrea so that she was fully on his lap. "Dinah was already talking to Purity. We're pretty sure that she was strongly considering joining. It's just that while she's in the hospital, she's unable to come out and be a hero."

Janet frowned. "Purity's the glowing one, that Kaiser stabbed, right? I thought she was a villain too." At least, that was her understanding from half-recalled TV spots.

"Well, yes and no." Danny tilted his head. "She was a member of the Empire Eighty-Eight for about ten years, but Dinah says she's been trying to break away from them in the last year or so. Maybe because of her baby."

"Baby?" Janet was startled. "What baby?" But then she recalled; when the teenagers had spilled on to the roof, one of them had been carrying a crying baby. Taylor, give Aster to Theo and help this lady with her medical kit. Theo, take Aster downstairs and get her settled. "Aster. Aster's her baby?"

"Ding!" Andrea held up her finger victoriously. "And the lady wins a prize. I can kind of understand her wanting to be a hero, too. Before I had Annette, I was all kinds of wild and crazy. Now, I've settled right down."

Janet blinked a few times. She tried to imagine Andrea being even more 'wild and crazy' than she'd been just a few minutes before. Good God. How is Brockton Bay still standing?

"That remains to be seen." Danny's voice was exceedingly dry. Oh, good. I'm not the only one who thinks that. "But be that as it may, it's still your choice whether or not to join the team, even if it's only until Purity's on her feet. If you wanted to move on tomorrow, I honestly wouldn't blame you; even by Brockton Bay's standards, tonight's been traumatic as hell. But if you wanted to stay, you'd be welcome."

Janet had to take a few moments to get her head around that. These people know what I can do. They accept it, and they want me to stay. They even kept my name away from the police. They don't know me from Adam, but they're putting themselves out for me.

Cynicism took that opportunity to rear its ugly head. Yeah, they just want me for what I can do for them. I'm just a set of powers for their new team.

For a long, frozen moment, she was on the verge of getting up and walking out. But something held her back. At first she wasn't sure what it was, but then she registered the expression in Danny Hebert's eyes. It wasn't calculation, or any sort of self-satisfaction. It took a second or so for her to recognise it, but her task was made easier by the fact that Andrea had the same look in her eyes. They were looking at her with hope and expectation.

"Suppose I joined," she began hesitantly, then stopped and thought about what she was saying. "I mean, I could leave at any time, right?"

"Well, duh," Andrea began, only to be shushed by Danny. "What?" she protested.

"We need to be serious about this," he told her, then switched his attention to Janet. "I'm hoping you'll join. I mean, Taylor's only fifteen. Dinah's only twelve. Every time I think about them out there going up against the worst that Brockton Bay has to offer, I get the cold shivers. But ultimately it'll be your decision, to join and to stay. Nothing less is fair to you."

She thought about his words, then nodded. "Not saying I'll join," she said. "But I'll think it over and give you my answer in the morning. You know a place I can get a room at this time of night? I mean, morning?"

"Sure," said Andrea promptly. "You can sleep here tonight. I'll be staying over at Kayden's, keeping an eye on Annette, Theo and Aster." She flicked a glance up at Danny, along with a gamine grin. "You can stay over too if you want."

Danny shook his head with what seemed more than a little reluctance. "No, I've got to get Taylor home and … damn it. My car." His face creased in annoyance, and Janet recalled that his tires had been slashed.

"Take my car," Andrea offered. "Bring it back in the morning." She fished out a set of keys and dangled them in front of his eyes.

"I can't take your car," he protested. "I mean … it's your car."

"Hey, I'm gonna be sleeping with you," she pointed out. "That means I already trust you. Take the damn keys."

The logic was weird, but Janet couldn't fault it. Though she had to be sure. "Uh, and you're willing to leave me overnight in your apartment because you already trust me?"

Andrea gave her a brilliant smile. "Got it in one. Plus, you got stuff you need to work through, without anyone waiting around for an answer. I'll show up tomorrow sometime, but I'll call the landline first so you can get dressed." She gave Janet that wink again. "Or undressed. Your choice."

Janet felt her cheeks heating. "Dressed. It'll definitely be dressed."

"Oh, well. Your loss." Andrea shrugged, then scrambled off of Danny's lap. "Lock up when we leave." She paused to give Janet an unusually serious look. "Also, if you're interested, I'm not bad at back and shoulder massages. Which don't always lead to sex!" She stuck her tongue out at Danny, even though he hadn't said a word.

He raised an eyebrow. "To hear Anne-Rose talk, that was the main reason you gave them." Danny stood up. "Though, to be fair, you were pretty good at them, from what I remember." He turned to Janet. "I'd actually recommend it. Just whack her on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper if she tries to hit on you again."

"Hey!" Andrea managed to put on an outraged tone. "She said no. I know what 'no' means."

"She had to say it twice." Danny's tone was mildly censorious.

"Sometimes people don't realise I'm making a move the first time," she pointed out. "Like you, for instance." She grinned at Janet. "I hit on him on a weekly basis while he was dating Taylor's mom, and he only just realised it now. Sixteen years later."

Janet stared at Danny. "You didn't realise? Okay, I get that guys can miss the signs when we're being subtle, but she's about as subtle as a brick through the windshield."

"Hey!" protested Andrea.

"Well, yeah, but when you've been exposed to her for a while, you kind of filter out the flirting," Danny explained, ignoring the outburst. "Sometimes I think she only does it to make sure we're paying attention."

"Which you weren't," Andrea said severely. "You didn't even get it the time I offered to give you a lap dance."

"When the hell did that happen?" demanded Danny. Janet was also curious; it took a certain amount of obliviousness to miss something like that.

"Oh, wait, no, that was Anne-Rose," Andrea recalled. "She took me up on it, too." Her face took on a beatific expression. "That was a fun night."

"I have no doubt," Danny said dryly. "But anyway, I really need to get home. Janet, you'll be okay here on your own?"

Janet nodded. While she still wasn't a hundred percent on board with crashing in Andrea's apartment, it was the best of a limited series of options. "I'll manage."

"Feel free to snack out of the fridge," Andrea said as she headed for the door. "Also, Annette's bed might be a little cosy, so you can use the master bedroom, through there." She pointed at one of the doors.

"Andrea, she's an adult," Danny chided the redhead, nudging her toward the door. "Let her be. We have to go."

The door closed behind them, leaving Janet alone in the apartment. Carefully, she put the duffel to one side, then got up. The first thing she did was lock the door and set the deadbolt; powers or no, she didn't want to tempt fate. Then she went in search of the bathroom. Despite her dislike of water, a long hot shower seemed ideal right at that moment.

As she readied for the shower, she mulled over the conversation. Danny seemed … reliable. Solid. Someone she would like to have on her side. Andrea, on the other hand was ditzy as hell, and seemed to thrive on saying whatever weird thing came to mind. The fact that the woman had hit on her twice was … she wasn't quite sure whether to class it as 'irritating' or 'flattering'. On the one hand, Janet was not into women. On the other, it was obviously something Andrea only did with people she considered to be completely trustworthy. So, kind of a weird back-handed compliment? Raising the stump of her left wrist, she contemplated it. She never mentioned this, except to mention how hard it would have been to carry the kit up the fire escape. No jokes about it. And she still found me attractive, even with it. Which was a weird thing to be pleased about, but there it was.

As she stepped under the torrent of water – this shower had about three times the power of the motel room ones she was used to – Janet nodded to herself. I think I'll stick around. Just to see what happens.

<><>​

The Next Day

Kayden lay in silent darkness. She wasn't quite sure what was going on. Her throat was dry, bringing back memories of the accident. Was she still trapped in the car? Were all those hazy memories just products of delirium? Had she only hallucinated getting powers? Am I going to die here? The fear that thought produced was overshadowed by a more visceral terror; Did I dream Aster? Am I going to wake up and find out that she never existed? If that was the case, she would welcome death.

"I think she's waking up. All her readings just jumped."

"Kayden? Kayden? Can you hear me?"

The voices were vague. She wasn't quite sure if she was imagining them or not.

"Kayden, can you open your eyes for us?"

Oh, that's right. She'd closed her eyes to keep out the burning sun. She didn't want to open them, not if it meant losing the dream where she'd had the most beautiful baby in the world. She scrunched her eyes more tightly shut, and turned over in bed to escape from the voice. There was a stab of pain from her midsection.

Wait a minute. I'm in a bed. I'm not in the car any more. And my stomach hurts. Why does my stomach hurt?

"Did you see that? She moved." The voice was closer now.

I have to find out where I am. Carefully, gradually, she opened her eyes. There was no dazzling; she hadn't had to blink her eyes to adjust to the light since … since I got my powers. I'm me. Everything I remember is real. So why can't I remember where I am? Why does my stomach hurt?

Slowly, she raised her eyes. She was indeed in a bed; unless she was badly mistaken, this was a hospital. A nurse stood next to the bed, looking down at her with a combination of personal concern and professional interest.

"How do you feel, Kayden?" asked the nurse. Even as she spoke, she took up Kayden's wrist and checked the watch hanging from the front of her uniform.

"Where am I? Where's Aster?" Kayden tried to ask, but all that came out was a husky rasp.

"Wait a moment," the nurse said briskly, then a water bottle came into view. The nurse fitted the nozzle between her lips and squirted a little lukewarm liquid into her mouth.

Kayden swallowed greedily, feeling it soaking into her parched throat. "Where am I?" she asked again. "Where's Aster?"

"You're in Brockton Bay General Hospital," the nurse said with a warm smile. "I was given a message to give to you. Andrea is taking care of Theo and Aster. Does that help?"

It did, somewhat. While Kayden wasn't quite sure of Andrea's maternal capabilities, Theo had already proven himself capable of caring for his sister. However, the last thing she could remember was trying to get home in the pouring rain, against heavy traffic. "Yes, thank you. What happened? Why does my stomach hurt?"

At that, the nurse's expression became a little guarded. "What do you remember?"

Kayden grabbed the nurse by the wrist. The sudden moment jolted her whole body, eliciting a jolt of pain from her stomach, but she didn't care. "Tell me. Now."

"You – you were stabbed," the nurse blurted, a little fear shading her voice. "By Kaiser, they said."

Kayden blinked, her grip going slack. She didn't have much strength as it was. "What … what happened then?" She thought she could recall the event, but it was hazy in the extreme. She said that Andrea was taking care of the children. I can't see Max leaving me alive or leaving Aster in someone else's hands. What happened?

"Let me answer that one." The curtain behind the nurse parted and Miss Militia stepped through. Kayden tensed up, even though this elicited another warning message from her stomach. She'd thought there was another voice in the room.

"What's this?" she demanded. "What's going on?" But she knew. It couldn't be anything else. The PRT knew exactly who she was. She was just surprised that she wasn't waking up in a PRT cell with containment foam covering her from head to toe.

"Take it easy, Ms Russel." Miss Militia stood there, hands curled loosely at her sides. Her famous weapon was currently in the shape of a cavalry sabre in a scabbard at her waist, but Kayden knew just how fast the PRT second in command could change it to something else, or just draw it and use it. As it was, crippled by her wound, she was essentially helpless. "I'm just here to make sure nothing … untoward … happens."

"What the hell does 'untoward' mean?" Kayden's eyes flickered from point to point, looking for anything that could give her an advantage if a fight started. "What are you talking about?"

Instead of answering immediately, Miss Militia gave her a long, speculative look. When she did speak, her question was nonsensical. "Do you know of anyone with lightning powers in Brockton Bay?"

"What?" Kayden stared at the hero. "Lightning powers?"

"I'll take that as a no, then." Without looking, Miss Militia hooked a chair over with her foot, and sat down in it. Her eyes never shifted from Kayden's, even as she made the entire action look casual. "I'm asking because Kaiser's dead. Just as he was about to finish you off, his blade was struck by lightning. From every indication, he died instantly."

Kayden blinked. It had been raining, but … "Yes, I see what you mean. Just a little coincidental. Still, waving a metal blade around in a storm is kind of asking for it." Behind her eyes, she was exulting. Max is dead! He can't take Aster away from me any more! Later, she knew, she would regret the passing of the man she had once loved, but for now all she could think of was her baby.

"That's one way to put it, yes." Miss Militia's tone was remarkably dry, though Kayden really couldn't see if she was smiling or not.

"Okay, so we've cleared the air." Kayden met the hero's gaze directly. "Why are you here, exactly? What does 'untoward' mean in this situation?"

"It means that we're in a difficult situation," the hero said, her tone candid. "Why did Kaiser stab you? Why were you even on that roof for him to stab you?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't recall exactly what happened," Kayden said, suddenly glad that this was the exact truth. "Except that I do happen to live there, so I've got any number of reasons to be on my roof. As for why … well, I can also think of several reasons, none of them really valid to anyone but Max Anders."

"So you knew that Kaiser was Max Anders?" Miss Militia sounded less than surprised.

"Well, duh," Kayden forced her tone to remain casual. "I was married to the man for eleven months. I also divorced him, just as soon as I discovered the side of him that I didn't like." Which is even kind of true. She spread her hands on the covers. "You'll find that's a matter of public record as well." She had a sinking feeling that her act wasn't fooling Miss Militia in the slightest, but the hero never showed a hint either way.

"Granted." Miss Militia leaned back in her chair. She knew all along. "So, back to possible reasons that Kaiser might have had for stabbing you?"

Kayden, thankful for the respite, responded promptly. "One: I knew his secret identity. I suspect I only survived the divorce because I never even hinted at a willingness to tell anyone."

"Given Kaiser's crimes, keeping quiet about his real identity and whereabouts could be seen as being an accessory," Miss Militia observed quietly. "By some people. Just so you know." Her manner made it clear that she wasn't one of 'those people'. In fact, she seemed to be uninterested in being aggressive or accusatory. Her attitude was more along the lines of a chat between old friends … or old enemies.

"I married the man, so those people can take their 'accessory' and shove it up their ass," Kayden retorted. "He fathered my daughter. I wasn't going to help him stay out of prison, but he'd earned that much from me, at least."

Miss Militia tilted her head thoughtfully, but she didn't argue. "And the other reasons?"

"The second reason would be that he wanted Aster to be raised in his image," Kayden said. "I wasn't going to allow that. He has an older boy, who's … flat. No real personality. Max ground him down. He tried to do the same to me, but I got out."

"Hm." Miss Militia straightened the scarf over her face minutely. "And the third?"

"Oh, the third?" Kayden rolled her eyes. "I'm just spitballing here, but if the Empire Eighty-Eight as a whole decided that I was a danger, they might've pressured Kaiser into killing me. Just to tie up loose ends. He'd have taken Aster, of course, because Max Anders always gets what he wants." She tried and failed to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"Whoever called down that lightning bolt would disagree," Miss Militia said, with a crease of the eyes that may have signalled a grin. "He'll never threaten you or your child again. He's in the PRT morgue, downtown."

Kayden didn't want to ask the next question, but she knew that if she didn't, it would look decidedly odd. Not to mention that she was curious about the answer herself. "So why are you here, anyway? I'm pretty sure that the PRT doesn't normally send capes to sit at the bedside of the exes of dead villains. And you never did explain what you meant by 'untoward'."

While the scarf hid a great deal of Miss Militia's expression, the woman still managed to look somewhat uncomfortable. "We're rarely in the position of having someone fall into our laps who's been indirectly implicated in the death of a major villain, and who are themselves suspected of being a parahuman. If you are who we think you are, then this would be an ideal time to take you into custody. However, if you're just a semi-innocent bystander, then there's a good chance that your life's in danger from the rest of the Empire." She held up her left hand and waggled it from side to side. "Two different potential outcomes, both of them fitting the definition of 'untoward'. You see our conundrum." Her tone never varied from the conversational. It was almost as though she didn't really mean what she was saying, and was reading from a script.

"Wait, what now?" Kayden knew she was reacting slowly to Miss Militia's casual statement, but she wasn't reacting quickly to anything at the moment. She wondered if that was due to the painkillers, and then she wondered how much of it was due to the painkillers. "Suspected of being a parahuman? Me? Since when?" Okay, they only suspect so far. Play the wounded innocent.

Miss Militia had the unmitigated gall to tilt her head slightly in appreciation of Kayden's acting skills before her eyes narrowed slightly over the flag-printed bandanna. "Well, you see, while no good photos have ever been taken of Kaiser's associate Purity due to her ability to glare out lenses with her power, we have managed to determine that she's got the same body type as you. There are also rumours that Purity was elevated to second-in-command of the Empire Eighty-Eight within days of your marriage to Max Anders. A little coincidental, don't you think?" Her tone said loud and clear coincidental, my flag-covered ass.

"What do I think?" Kayden glared at the hero with all the venom at her command. "I think that whatever I say here is inadmissible in court, because I'm under the influence of painkillers. I think that you're just fishing, because you'd love to slap the cuffs on me but you can't quite make your case add up. I think that if you had a real case, I would've woken up behind bars. I think that anyone can make up a good story by adding up any two coincidental dates and slapping on a healthy dose of conspiracy theory. And I think that Max Anders may well have had a type, and that type was petite women. Anything else you want to add?" She fell back against the pillow, panting a little; as slight an effort as her tirade had been, it still left her feeling as though she'd just run a marathon.

"Not at the moment," Miss Militia said, sounding entirely unsurprised by what Kayden had just said. She was probably expecting that. "Though we can offer you official PRT protection if you believe that your life is in danger from the Empire Eighty-Eight." She let the moment draw out, raising her eyebrows interrogatively. And, Kayden realised, this was the first time that she had put emphasis behind her words.

She knew from the start that I was lying through my teeth, but didn't want to push it, probably because they've got no actual proof. Probably trying to edge me into accepting a plea deal for informing on the rest of the Empire. Well, screw her.

Kayden looked her straight in the eye. "Even if I was, I wouldn't accept it from you." There. Let her wonder if I'm referring to her personally or the PRT. "Get out."

Miss Militia sighed and stood up. "If that's what you want. In case you change your mind, this is my card." She produced a rectangle of white pasteboard from her belt and placed it on the rolling tray table. "Have a good day … Ms Russel."

"Fuck you." Kayden clawed the card off the tray and threw it at the trash can. She wasn't even sure if the hero heard the words as the curtains closed behind her. Once she was gone, Kayden was left to ponder over exactly what the visit meant. They're on to us. All of us. Max's death has outed more than me. Every one of his associates is now under suspicion. All the PRT has to do is find one piece of proof, and they'll be watching us like hawks to slip and give them that proof. The conclusion was sobering. This could spell the end of the Empire.

The nurse slipped back in through the curtains. With her came a doctor, who eyed Kayden with concern. "Ms Russel," he said at once. "I'm sorry about that intrusion. I wasn't informed of it until just now. Are you feeling all right?"

For a moment, Kayden considered telling the doctor that she wanted to sue the Protectorate for harassment, but decided that it probably wouldn't be the best idea in the world. "I've been better," she said cautiously. "How bad was it?"

"It could have been much worse than it was," he said, his professional smile obviously intended to allay her fears. "While the injury was quite serious, the surgery to repair the damage went very smoothly and I expect you to make a full recovery."

She raised her chin, fully aware of what a snow job sounded like. "Define 'quite serious'." A broken leg was quite serious; she was reasonably sure that what Max had done to her surpassed that particular bar.

He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "The weapon pierced a blood vessel. You were bleeding quite badly. Fortunately, you were given excellent first aid on site, and the paramedics were able to keep you stable until we got you into theatre." He didn't so far as to say you could have died, but he didn't have to. She could connect the dots for herself.

"So how long till I get out of here?" Kayden didn't really believe that she was in danger from the Empire Eighty-Eight – they would be too busy scrambling to save their own skins to bother with her – but she knew that she'd feel much more secure standing on her own two feet and able to use her powers without knocking herself out.

"Well, that's not something I can make a firm estimate on," he said, and rubbed his chin. As he did so, the nurse stepped around him. She withdrew an electronic thermometer from her pocket and switched it on. With gestures, she indicated that Kayden was to open her mouth. The thermometer was cold at first, but the metal and plastic warmed almost immediately; a moment later, the device beeped and the nurse retrieved it.

"A simple stab wound would take about a week and a half to two weeks to heal," he pronounced, accepting the thermometer from the nurse and inspecting the readout. "Oh, that's good. Your temperature's down again. You did have us a little worried for a while there."

"A week and a half to two weeks to heal," Kayden prompted him.

"Oh, yes." He handed the thermometer back to the nurse. "With a wound of this severity, I would consider releasing you as an outpatient in about a month, plus or minus a week or so, depending on how well you respond to treatment. This would not mean that you are fully healed, of course. Just that you're able to go home and finish your recuperation there. With frequent checkups to make sure that nothing's going wrong."

In other words, forever and a day. Kayden hadn't known until now exactly how dependent she'd been on Othala to get her back to health after a battle had gone wrong. She didn't even know if the Trump and her husband would stay in Brockton Bay, much less the Empire; while they weren't publicly known to be close associates of Max Anders, the organisation itself was likely to undergo a considerable shakeup now that he was dead. I wonder if I can get a message to them for old times' sake …

"Mind you, it could be much worse," the doctor assured her. "There have been minimal signs of infection, and you're a healthy woman. I've seen patients in worse shape than you pull through with no trouble whatsoever." He gave her a professional smile. "Trust me, you're in good hands here." The nurse leaned over to him and murmured something, and he brightened. "Oh, and before I forget, you have visitors. Do you want to see them?"

Kayden frowned. More visitors, you mean. "That depends. Are they wearing masks or suits?" Protectorate or PRT, in other words.

He shook his head. "No, I believe not."

She allowed a tiny thread of hope to spring to life in her heart. "Sure, let them in." If it was someone else here to bother her, she could always send them away again.

The doctor and nurse both left; a moment later, the curtains parted, and Theo stood there, holding … "Aster!" she gasped, her eyes opening wide and her hands going up instinctively, reaching out for the most precious thing in her existence.

"Hi, Mom," Theo offered, apparently unoffended by her focus on his sister. He placed her baby in her arms, careful not to let the infant rest on her abdomen. The baby's eyes opened and she smiled; Kayden's heart melted on the spot. Inhaling her child's fresh scent, she listened to Aster's happy gurglings and felt at peace.

"How are you feeling?" Theo asked, watching her face.

"Better, now," she said with a matching smile. Then what he'd said registered on her. "'Mom'? Really?" Up until now, he'd called her 'Kayden'.

He shuffled his feet awkwardly. That's Theo, all right. "I, uh, got to thinking after you got hurt. If I lost you, I've got no parents at all. And I don't want that. So I'm just gonna call you 'Mom', if that's okay?"

She smiled again, this time at him. He was socially unadapted, a little on the chubby side, and had little to nothing of Max's good looks. But he was devoted to Aster, and had always shown her unfailing respect. I could do worse for a son. "That's okay, Theo. Family needs to stick together."

"So, that mean me too?" The new voice came from behind Theo, but Kayden recognised it immediately. Annette moved all the way around the bed to come up on Kayden's other side. "I mean, I've already got a mom, but I'm down with having two moms. Even if you aren't a couple."

Kayden choked a little on that one. "Uh, I hardly think that's going to happen." While she didn't think she was about to start looking for another man in her life – Max had poisoned that well for good and all – nor was she even remotely considering the concept of starting a relationship with a woman instead. While Kayden had never held strong views on the subject, apart from a general feeling of ewww, she knew that others in the Empire did.

"Wow, did I just get rejected before I even walked into the room? That's a first." Andrea slipped into the enclosure and grinned at her past Theo's shoulder. "Oh, well, your loss. Leaves more time for me and Danny."

Kayden blinked at her. "What? You and Danny? But you … didn't you just move back into town?" She was sure she'd heard something of that sort.

"Sure." Andrea beamed at her. "But hey, catching up on lost time and all that. He's a good guy, and Taylor's just a sweetie."

"They said to say hi, by the way," Annette chimed in. "Taylor said they'd be along a little later. Something about her dad getting the tires replaced on his car. And Dinah said to say she hopes you get well soon."

But they barely know me. Kayden felt her eyes start to prickle with the emotion she was feeling. She rested her cheek against Aster's head. "Tell them all … tell them, thank you," she managed.

The way ahead would be anything but smooth, she knew. Between the Protectorate and PRT prying into her affairs and the Empire fragmenting and possibly lashing out at Brockton Bay, there was a strong chance of trouble in the future. But she had … friends? Friends who didn't seem to care about her past, who were willing to give her a second chance. Even if some of them were a little on the weird side, like Andrea and her daughter. Who was also Max's daughter, which made her family, in the same way that Theo was family. Kayden was still coming to terms with that bombshell. When did life get so complicated?

She wasn't sure about the answer to that one, but she was certain about one thing.

She couldn't wait to see what happened next.



End of Part Ten

Part Eleven

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Eleven: Critical Flail



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

[A/N 2: Queries were raised over how the Empire would react. This is in answer to that.]



"So Kaiser's dead." The words hung in the air as Krieg leaned back in his chair, looking at each of the attending members of the Empire Eighty-Eight in turn. "What's our next move?"

They weren't in their usual meeting room; that room was within the Medhall building, which had been locked down by the PRT in the early hours of the morning. Fortunately, this move had been signalled by one of the contacts the Empire still maintained within various law-enforcement agencies, which had given them sufficient time to prepare. In the main, said preparation had involved evacuating essential personnel – those left behind were going to be rather surprised to find out who they'd been working for all these years – and relocating computer servers. Those would have been problematical, had the PRT gotten their hands on them. He had no doubt that the combination of Armsmaster and Dragon would have cracked even the strongest encryption like a walnut under a sledgehammer.

"What's our next move?" Hookwolf, his metal mask on the table before him, repeated the question mockingly. "Well, we can bleat to the world that it's not fair, or we can get back up and show 'em that we're not to be fucked with. And I'm all out of bleats."

Victor, a little way down the table, tilted his head slightly. "So what do you have in mind? Storm the PRT building and proclaim ownership of Brockton Bay?" His tone was just short of derisive and if Krieg was any judge, the skill-thief was doing it on purpose. Othala put her hand on her husband's arm and murmured something, causing him to subside. "Right now, a grand gesture could go very wrong indeed." He tapped the side of his head, as if anyone needed reminding that he was more politically astute than ninety percent of the people at the table.

Not that everyone was there. Menja and Fenja were both absent, as were Cricket and Rune. He could imagine the twins being guilt-stricken over Kaiser's death; even if Kaiser had ordered them to stay away while he confronted Purity, they would still feel responsible for not being there. Rune had had to go to school to keep up appearances, but he wasn't sure why Cricket chose not to attend. Perhaps she was assuaging her grief by beating up members of some convenient ethnic minority. Of course, she and Kaiser had never been close … nor, for that matter, did she ever require an excuse to do anything like that.

Hookwolf rolled his eyes. "Fuck grand gestures. We take care of the bitch who betrayed Kaiser! We send a message that nobody does that shit and lives!" His fist, thankfully not clad in metal at the time, crashed on to the table.

"Take care of …" Krieg narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about? Are you saying we should murder Purity? One of our own?" He had never believed that Purity had really split with the Empire. In fact, he was certain that in time, she would've seen the error of her ways and returned to the fold. Kaiser had always maintained this, and Krieg tended to trust his judgement. Well, had trusted his judgement.

"One of our own, like fuck." Meadows was distinctly uncouth, to say the least, but he could definitely put his point across. "She abandoned us. That was bad enough. But she kills Kaiser and you're saying we do nothing?"

"Wait." Alabaster didn't speak much, so that when he did, people looked around. "The report said he was struck by lightning. Was it wrong?"

"It wasn't wrong." Krieg made his voice firm. "Kellerman even confirmed that there had been a lightning strike."

"Well, obviously she didn't strike him with fuckin' lightning." Brad's tone was dismissive. "But it was raining hard as shit, and she got him up there. Deliberate, if you ask me. Bitch set him up."

"Hold on a minute." Victor was leaning back in his chair, elaborately casual. "You're saying that Purity deliberately set up Kaiser to be struck by lightning?" His entire attitude radiated disbelief. "Do you think she forced him to hold up a metal spike, too?"

The murmur that went around the table was not missed on Hookwolf, who shot Victor an ugly look. "It's fuckin' obvious what happened. She got him up there, and lit up, gettin' ready to zorch him. But she either choked, or he just beat her to the draw. One metal spike later, and he punched her ticket."

"And then he got struck by lightning," Victor reminded them all. "I mean, that's grade-school stuff. You don't stand around on buildings in a thunderstorm holding a metal spike over your head. I know that. You know that. Kaiser knew that. Except that, you know, he did it anyway."

"Which brings up another problem," Krieg added. "It's already hit the street. People already know that Kaiser got himself electrocuted by holding up a metal spike in a thunderstorm. It's not doing our credibility any good." Such an ignoble end, he knew, would haunt Kaiser's memory forever.

"So we get it back." Hookwolf hit the table again, and his mask juddered against the wood. "Purity was the reason Kaiser was on that roof. If we put her in the ground, it'll show our strength. Nobody'll want to fuck with us."

"Well, actually, no," Victor said. "When she was upright and healthy, Purity was a good target. Right now, she's in a goddamn hospital bed with a stab wound. If we take her out, we look like petty assholes. She's got a kid, for Chrissakes. Kaiser's kid. Two of 'em, if you count Theo."

"There's a third, actually," Krieg pointed out. "I've been over the police reports." There were exclamations of surprise around the table, but he didn't think it was over the fact that he had access to police reports. "And I've been looking at the paperwork Kaiser had with him when he died. He's got an heir who's neither Theo nor Aster. A girl, a few months older than Theo. She's actually why he was there in the first place."

"The fuck?" demanded Hookwolf. "When the fuck did this happen?" Metal shards slid out of his skin then retracted again.

"About seventeen years ago, while he was still in college, apparently," Krieg said. "The narrative, as far as I can determine, goes like this. Kaiser was seeing the girl's mother back then, and she fell pregnant to him. He also fell for her, hard. But Allfather disagreed, so he sent the woman away. Kaiser recently located her, and discovered she had a daughter. She works for Medhall, so he had her transferred back, along with her daughter. By some odd coincidence, the girl was at Purity's apartment with a group of friends when Kaiser showed up, seeking to take her away. The girl was unwilling, and hit him in the face with a plate of pasta before making a run for it."

He paused as chuckles made a round of the table. The mental image of the ever-immaculate Kaiser with pasta on his face was somewhat amusing.

"So she got up on to the roof," Victor said thoughtfully.

"Correct," Krieg agreed. "He followed. Purity had arrived home sometime around then – the details are sketchy on that point – and she confronted him. So he stabbed her. According to the witness statements, she didn't light up at all. Just stood there, between him and the girl. She went down and he was about to decapitate her when lightning struck the blade." He paused. "Oh, and there's also a police report about Kaiser showing up to the mother's apartment and assaulting the man she was with. Beating him quite badly, in fact."

Silence fell around the table, as each of the capes digested this. "Well, shit," Crusader remarked. "That kind of puts a different spin on things, doesn't it?"

"It does indeed," Krieg said. "It appears that Kaiser's judgement regarding this woman and her daughter was … flawed. In fact, I'm wondering if we shouldn't step back from this whole episode and distance ourselves from it."

"What?" Hookwolf stared from face to face around the table. "You're shitting me! This isn't how the Empire does business! We get fucked over, we go after whoever did the fucking, and we make a fucking example. We make sure nobody ever thinks to try that shit again!"

"There comes a point in business, as in everything else, when you have to step back and cut your losses," Krieg said, trying not to lose his patience with the shirtless man. "If we 'avenge' Kaiser, we then have to accept the rest of the narrative. The girl he was killed over has been named as his heir, his successor. Are you willing to have a sixteen year old girl as your boss? Because that's what the paperwork says."

Victor rubbed his chin. "What's the other option? We just … disavow Kaiser? Write him off?"

"It would've been far harder while he was alive," Krieg admitted. "And in fact, I wouldn't even be considering this course of action if he was. But look at the facts. He screwed up massively in more ways than one. He died because he forgot an elementary rule of safety. I have no doubt that the jokes are already circulating on the Internet."

"So what do we do?" Crusader asked the question for them all.

"We close ranks. Move on. Spread the word that Kaiser had become dangerously erratic, and paid the ultimate price for it. We might even spread the rumour that we dealt with him ourselves, so as to contain the damage for the good of the Empire. It's not even too far from how I suspect he took over from Allfather, back in the day." Krieg straightened his cuffs. "If we distance ourselves from him fast enough, all this stops being an Empire thing and starts being a Kaiser thing. Yes, we take a hit, but not as big as if we publicly accept Kaiser's stupidity as our own. We present strong leadership and we move on. We did it when Allfather died, and we can do it now."

"And the heir?" Victor asked the question, his eyes intent.

Krieg smiled coldly. "If we disavow him, we disavow her. It's doubtful that she'll try anything publicly. If she does try anything, we can ignore her or disappear her, whichever is more convenient. I'm certainly not going to be handing over the reins of this organisation to some teenager who hasn't the first idea of what the Empire is all about."

"And what about fuckin' Purity?" demanded Hookwolf. "She killed Kaiser!"

"Well, actually, she didn't," Victor pointed out. "He waved his blade around in a thunderstorm. After he chased a teenage girl on to the roof."

"She was there!" raged Hookwolf. "She was standing against him when he died! If she'd just stepped aside, he'd still be alive!"

Krieg frowned. "I find your logic tenuous at best. If she'd been actively opposing him, she could have blasted him into his component atoms before he ever laid a blade on her. She obviously didn't. And in fact, she didn't even light up."

"Bitch was married to him." Hookwolf's tone was as surly as his expression. "She knew not to fuck with him."

"That doesn't make his actions look any better." Victor shook his head. "In fact, it looks like him turning on her, rather than the other way around. Stabbing the mother of his child. That's not the image we want to embrace."

"Well, you can 'embrace' all the 'image' you want, but I still say she needs to die," Hookwolf stated stubbornly. "And since I figured you weren't gonna do shit, I already took care of it myself."

Krieg half-stood, foreboding spreading through his mind at the cage-fighter's triumphant expression. "What have you done?" He glanced around the table again. "Where's Cricket?"

Hookwolf leaned back in his chair and showed his teeth in a lazy grin. "Doing what you shoulda already done. Takin' care of business."

<><>​

At the Same Time

Cricket eased her way over the ceiling tiles, careful not to rest too much of her weight in any one area. Dust drifted down around her, but she refused to let herself sneeze. It hadn't been the easiest thing in the world to infiltrate the hospital, but she had managed it. She'd even pulled it off without killing more than one or two people, too. Not because she was concerned about killing people, but because dead bodies lying around could raise the alarm just as readily as live ones could.

She was fully aware of Hookwolf's ideas about the 'warrior code' and all that shit; she just didn't think that way herself. There was no guilt in her mind over the fat security guard who'd nearly gotten his hand on his radio before she silenced him, and if the nurse she'd choked out failed to recover, that wasn't her problem either. They were standing between her and a certain bitch who needed to die, so they suffered the consequences.

Carefully, she hooked the tip of her kama under the edge of one panel and levered it upward. Once she could get a grip with her fingertips, she lifted it farther and peered through the gap thus opened. The information she'd wrung out of the nurse was correct; if that wasn't Purity in the bed down below, she'd eat both her sickles without salt. Tucking the sickle away in her belt, she soundlessly lifted the panel out of its seating and slid it aside. She wouldn't be coming back this way, but there was no sense in alerting the target before time.

Purity was still lying in bed, eyes closed, by the time Cricket was ready to make her move. Some might consider that killing an injured enemy was somehow wrong. Hookwolf would've come in loud, depending on his durability to survive long enough to land a hit. Cricket didn't share his 'warrior culture' ideas, either. Her view was that the best time to kill someone was when they didn't expect it, especially if that someone was able to blast you into a fine mist. Pulling herself forward, she let her upper body fall forward through the gap, catching the edge of the hole at the last moment to bring her legs around. An instant later, she released her grip on the ceiling frame and dropped lightly on to her feet, five feet from the bed. The moment her feet hit the floor, she drew the right-hand sickle.

Purity was just starting to blink her way awake when Cricket lunged forward, kama raised. The weapon slashed down with all the force in her arm, razor-edged blade on target toward Purity's heart. Purity being awake was an extremely dangerous proposition for her. While the ex-Empire cape's blinding glow wouldn't work against Cricket's sonar, one blast would quite literally take her apart at the seams.

At what had to be the last possible instant, Purity rolled away from the strike. Already fully committed, Cricket felt the blade bury itself in the mattress. Before she could pull it out, Purity rolled back into place with a pepper-spray canister in her hand, her back pinning the kama into the mattress. Despite the unexpected development, Cricket reacted fast; even as the canister hissed and dispensed its load, she let go the kama and dropped to the floor, rolling under the bed.

Cricket didn't waste time castigating herself. Purity was awake and aware of the danger, which made the situation one of extreme peril. She wasn't sure exactly how badly the stab-wound inflicted by Kaiser was affecting Purity, but she knew just how powerful the petite woman's blasts could be. Basically, she had two options; kill Purity fast, or get the hell out. While 'get the hell out' was actually her preferred choice right at that second, she didn't rate her chances as being very high, so 'kill Purity fast' was going to have to be it.

With that in mind, she kept rolling, heading for the other side of the bed. Hiding wasn't going to cut it. When it came to Purity's blasts, buildings only counted as visual cover. So she had to get within arms' reach, preferably without a mattress between them. Fleetingly, she considered kicking the bed over, but she didn't quite think she could pull it off fast enough to disable Purity. Her second kama was already in her hand as she came up on the other side. Strike first, strike fast, keep hitting her till you know she's dead.

With that thought in mind, she came up on to her knees – right into a cloud of that damn spray. It felt like her eyeballs had caught fire; just in time, she remembered to let go her kama before clawing at her eyes through the metal cage. The hasty roll had depleted her air and she involuntarily sucked in a breath, searing her nasal passages and lungs with yet more of that shit. Some part of her demanded that she retrieve her weapons and finish the mission, but she didn't have the eyesight or the breath to do so.

Vaguely, she felt her wrists being cuffed behind her. She tried to fight, but the agony permeating every square inch of her mucous membranes was too great. As she was half-carried, half-dragged away, she was aware of two things. One, everything from the neck up was in flaming agony. Two, she had failed.

She wasn't sure which hurt more.

<><>​

Kayden

As the PRT goons finished bagging Cricket's weapons – the villain herself had already been dragged out – Kayden looked up at Miss Militia. "Yes?"

The hero sighed. "Now will you take the threat seriously? Cricket could've easily killed you if you weren't paying attention at the right time. The PRT can protect you." Either she was a good actor, or she actually cared about Kayden's well-being.

However, Kayden still wasn't buying it. "You did a great job this time. Oh, wait. You didn't. A supervillain waltzed straight past you and made a serious attempt on my life. I had to stop her with consumer-grade pepper spray." Which was the story she'd be telling everyone. After all, the only people who needed to know the truth were the ones who already knew it.

"The next time, you might not be so lucky." Miss Militia took a deep breath. "Please, accept PRT protection so that we can take you someplace more secure."

"I'm going nowhere with you," Kayden stated flatly. "Not while you're still accusing me of being a supervillain myself. Who knows, someone might get the idea to lock me up on suspicion. And if I can't get access to a lawyer, I can't prove my innocence." It's probably what I'd do, in her place.

From the way the hero's mouth twisted under the scarf, the implication had not gone unnoticed. "My other reason for wanting to move you is that Cricket killed a man getting in here, and hurt a nurse while questioning her about your whereabouts. While I can't force you to come with us, I'm reasonably certain the hospital administration will be along very shortly to ask you to vacate the premises, for the good of all. Where else will you go?"

Kayden shrugged; not an easy trick while lying down, but an effective one. "Anywhere but to the PRT."

"Fine. Just be aware, the PRT can't maintain a guard on the hospital for too long, and we can't maintain a guard on you anywhere else at all. We have other duties."

Kayden waved in the general direction of the door. "Take them away, already. I'll be fine." She held up the expended pepper-spray capsule. "You've got a prisoner. Go talk to her."

Miss Militia turned on her heel and stalked to the door. On the point of opening it, she turned back toward Kayden for a moment. "One more thing. Where did you get the pepper spray from?"

That was actually a very good question, but Kayden had no intention of answering it. "Oh, somewhere around about. A woman has to be aware of her own safety, you know."

"I see." Miss Militia's tone was sour. She stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her.

A long moment passed, then the door to the tiny bathroom opened. Janet emerged and crossed the room to Kayden's bed, walking quietly. She sat down in the chair that Miss Militia had vacated. "You all right?" she asked.

"No new stab wounds," Kayden assured her, trying to make a joke of it. "That's a very impressive power you have. How did you make the pepper spray move around like that?" It had been downright uncanny; moments from dispersing, the cloud of pepper spray had condensed back together and streamed back over Kayden without quite touching her, just in time to take Cricket in the face.

"It's carried in a mist of water droplets," Janet said tonelessly. "And that's my power, right there." She took a deep breath. "I could've locked her limbs and clonked her over the head with something, or even frozen her diaphragm and made her suffocate. But Taylor warned me that being too cute with my powers could lead to me being revealed too soon." Her right hand rubbed over the stump of her left wrist, a habit Kayden had noticed earlier. "So I decided to do it this way."

Kayden frowned. "Locked her limbs? The same way you moved me?" She paused. "Thanks for that, by the way. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to move fast enough."

"Got it in one," Janet agreed, acknowledging the thanks with a wan smile. "My range for that level of control isn't great, but you were both inside it. The human body's about sixty percent water, which gives me plenty of leverage." The way her expression changed, however, told another story.

"You didn't want to," Kayden guessed. "Is there a reason why? Did something bad happen when you got your powers?" This was more than a cliché; if the news was to be believed, it happened more often than not.

Janet shook her head. "I got my powers when something bad happened, not the other way around. But … I don't like using them. I never will enjoy it. And using it on someone's body … ugh." She shuddered feelingly. "Pass."

"But you did it with me … wait." Kayden frowned. "Sixty percent? Really? I thought it was more like seventy-five or eighty or something."

"That was to save your life. Anything short of that, not if I can help it." Janet shook her head. "And nope, it's only sixty. Blame the same people who keep spreading the ten-percent myth about the human brain."

"Right. Well, thank you for saving my life. Again." Kayden gave Janet a smile. "And I'm sorry you had to use your power if you dislike it so much, but on the other hand I'm grateful that you saved me with it."

Janet's return smile was tentative. "Well, if I'm going to be joining the team, I might as well make myself useful, right?" It was almost a joke.

Kayden decided to take her words at face value. "Well, that makes sense. And it's somewhat of a relief."

"A relief?" Janet tilted her head questioningly. "How so?"

Kayden rolled her eyes. "I was dreading being the only responsible adult in a team composed of teenagers. Wouldn't you be?"

"Oh." For a moment, Janet looked startled. "I hadn't thought of that." From the look on her face, she was now imagining it. She didn't seem to be enjoying the prospect. "Do me a favour? Get well soon?"

Kayden chuckled, then regretted it as a spasm of pain reminded her of the injury. "I'll do my best."

<><>​

Krieg

"You had no right!" bellowed Krieg, his face red with anger. He stood at his place, his chair forgotten behind him. Alongside him stood Victor and Othala. "That kind of unilateral action was rash and unnecessary!"

"I had every fuckin' right!" Hookwolf retorted, also on his feet. Steel plated most of his torso, and sharp points decorated the rest. Metal claws were already defacing the varnished wood before him. "Kaiser's death was her fault! She had to pay!"

"Oh, come on," Victor snapped. "Kaiser stabbed her, then waved his sword around in a thunderstorm! You can't honestly say she planned that through!"

"She confronted him on that roof," Stormtiger said, adding his voice to Hookwolf's. "The guilt is at least partly hers." He jerked his chin up. "And in any case, if you were really serious about saving her life, you would've already called the PRT."

"The cost would be too great." Krieg felt no shame in admitting this. "If it got out that the Empire had knowingly colluded with the enemy, our name would be reviled throughout Brockton Bay and beyond. The Empire would lose far too much face. Better we wait to see how it goes down, then act accordingly."

"Which might just involve a news story about Cricket being blasted through a skyscraper." Crusader's voice was thoughtful. "Are we ready for something like that?"

Krieg made his mind up. "If Cricket is captured or killed in an attempt to assassinate Purity, we will disavow her. Purity walked away from us once already; on balance, I suspect that she'll be willing to leave us alone if we do the same."

"The fuck?" Hookwolf gouged fresh holes in the table. "We're not gonna just drop Cricket like a hot potato! If she goes down, we go after whoever did it! If she gets captured, we break her out!"

"Well, let's hope it doesn't …" Krieg paused as his phone rang. With some small relief he pulled it out. This argument had been circling around the same points for the last ten minutes, and he despaired of ever convincing Hookwolf. "Hello?"

"Sir, this is Brooks on Intake. I just got word that they're bringing in Cricket."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Please say that again."

"They're bringing Cricket in. She tried to kill someone at the Brockton Bay General Hospital, and got taken down hard."

So he hadn't misheard. "Thank you. Keep me posted."

"Yes, sir. Uh, gotta go."

Krieg ended the call and placed the phone on the table. "Well, the time for what-ifs is over. It's time for the hard decisions."

"The fuck's that supposed to mean?" Hookwolf glared at him suspiciously. More metal slid out and covered his upper shoulders.

"Cricket just tried to kill Purity." Krieg took another deep breath. "She's now in PRT custody." Hookwolf began to speak, but Krieg raised his voice to speak over him. "I don't know if she succeeded, but I don't think so. Our big question here is this: do we own this, or do we step back and leave her to the consequences of her actions?" He already knew which way he was going.

"The fuck?" Hookwolf was already leaning forward over the table. "You're even asking that? We get her out! She's Empire!"

"But if we break her loose, we tell everyone we're okay with her trying to murder Purity," Victor pointed out. "Do we want that?"

Hookwolf stared at him, as if he were unable to understand what the skill-thief was saying. "I told her to fuckin' do it! Of course I'm okay with that!"

Krieg loosed a pulse of kinetic energy that jolted the room and made everyone turn toward him. "The last thing we need right now is divisiveness in the ranks. The Empire has to show a unified face to Brockton Bay. I will permit no more unilateral action until we've worked out where we're going with this. Is that clear?"

"No, it isn't fuckin' clear." Hookwolf jabbed his thumb at his chest. "I was Kaiser's second in command, just like you. You don't 'permit' shit around me." Turning away from the table, he knocked his chair over on his way to the door.

"Where are you going?" Krieg's voice cracked across the room like a whip.

"To do what needs to be done." Hookwolf didn't look around. "Bust Cricket out and fix up your fuckin' mess."

"If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back." Krieg knew the threat wasn't likely to work, but he had to try.

This time, Hookwolf did turn around. "Fuck you." He surveyed the rest of the Empire, still at the table. "Who's with me?"

Stormtiger reacted immediately, followed by Alabaster. Krieg had expected the first, but not the second. As they moved to join Hookwolf, he tried one more time. "Walk out that door and you're out of the Empire. This isn't something you can come back from."

Hookwolf was already out the door. As Stormtiger exited, Alabaster turned to look back at Krieg. "What the hell. It sounds like fun." Then he was gone, too.

There was a long moment of silence as their footsteps died away, then Crusader spoke. "Well, shit. That happened."

Looking at the remnants of the Empire Eighty-Eight, Krieg could only wonder what was going to happen next. Whatever it was, he wasn't looking forward to it.



End of Part Eleven

Part Twelve

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Twelve: Cashing in a Diplomacy Check

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



Weymouth Mall Food Court
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Amy Dallon

The churro was still warm from the oven, but they'd over-sugared it slightly. Amy wiped some of the sweet powder from the corner of her mouth, then spotted something that turned down her enjoyment of the day a little. "Don't look now, Vicky, but I think you've got fans incoming." Specifically, zeroing in on the Dallon sisters were two girls; one was almost certainly still in middle school, while the other was a couple of years older.

"Hey, can I help it if I'm a celebrity?" Vicky turned toward the two girls, displaying her most brilliant smile and quite literally turning on the charm. Amy felt the aura as it pushed out; not at full strength, thankfully. She didn't feel like having to bring around someone who'd fainted from sheer excitement at meeting their idol … again. Idol. Yeah, as if. She knew she could shock anyone who held Vicky on a pedestal with the news that Glory Girl was nowhere near perfect. But with all that, Amy still loved her helplessly. Shows what an idiot I am.

"Hi!" It was the redhead, taller than her friend, with brilliant green eyes and a personality almost as forceful as Vicky's own. "I'm new in town, and when Dinah here told me that the actual real Glory Girl was here, I just had to meet you. Seriously, I've got all your action figures and your pyjama line and every t-shirt they ever made. Oh my god, you're even prettier in person!"

Amy couldn't be certain, but she was pretty sure the girl had said all that without stopping for breath even once. Vicky was drinking up the adulation as always; while the younger girl wasn't quite as vocal—not to mention, she didn't really have the option of getting a word in edgewise—she was still quite attentive, holding out a notepad and pen. Autograph time again.

Vicky would be at this for quite a while. As her sister laughingly replied to the redhead with a question about where she was from, Amy wandered over to find someplace to sit and finish her churro. So much for a quiet day out with my sister. She would've thought that the Weymouth Mall—quiet if not totally deserted on a Sunday—was perfect for such an outing. This was apparently not the case. Not for the first time, she envied other capes their secret identities. Though, to be honest, she wasn't sure exactly how long Vicky would be able to maintain something like that. She loved the attention too much.

"Hi. Can we talk?" The question caught Amy by surprise, and she looked around to see that a girl of around her own age had sat down on the same bench, leaving a discreet spacing between them. Skinnier than most, she had long black curly hair and round-lensed glasses, which only intensified her serious expression. Her gaze was steady and unwavering, making Amy wonder briefly if there was something caught between her teeth. There was also something vaguely familiar about her, but Amy couldn't quite tell what.

"Uh, who are you?" Amy stared at the newcomer, then over at the other two, who were talking with Vicky; or rather, the redhead was chatting nineteen to the dozen, while the younger brunette was interjecting the occasional word here and there. By accident or design, they'd moved in such a way that Vicky was facing away from her, so she couldn't even get her sister's attention by waving. "What do you want?" Carefully, she reminded herself that if this girl was a creepy stalker fan, it would only take one touch to disable her.

"Relax." One corner of the slender girl's mouth crept upward in a brief half-smile. "This is nothing bad. I just want to talk to you about superhero matters, actually." She turned to face Amy, bringing one knee up on to the bench seat and resting her arm on the back of the seat. Amy, noting that this would make it harder for them to get closer, let a little of the tension out of her body.

"So talk to Vicky." She didn't try very hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "She's the Alexandria package." Everyone else in New Wave had a bright, flashy costume and powers to match. Panacea, on the other hand … could heal people. Well, she could do a lot more than that, but it was all about public perception. And while she did get a certain amount of recognition, it was all about being able to heal people. She couldn't, or rather didn't, do anything to people who weren't already injured or unwell. Vicky, on the other hand, could bench-press an SUV for an admiring crowd, and had done so on more than one occasion.

"Actually, we've already got a heavy hitter." To Amy's ear, the girl's voice held a certain amount of amusement. "We're interested in recruiting you, not Glory Girl. That's if you're interested, of course." She leaned back a little, as if to watch the effect her words had on Amy. Behind her glasses, her eyes hadn't lost any of their intense nature.

Amy blinked, then shook her head. "Wait, what again now?" She stared at the teenager in front of her. "You can't be seriously saying what I think you're saying. You want to poach me from New Wave?" A small part of her mind tried to figure out when she'd last been made an offer like that, and fell short. It had been a long time; maybe years? Certainly nothing recently, and definitely not by any of the Brockton Bay capes.

The closest that she could recall of anyone suggesting that she leave New Wave would've been the time Youth Guard had checked out the team. She'd been briefed, along with Vicky and Crystal and Eric, by Carol and Aunt Sarah; to say and do nothing that might give the activist group the slightest excuse to come down on them. Thereafter, she'd spoken to an oddly intense woman who (in Amy's opinion) talked down to her like a child. This hadn't endeared the interviewer to her, and her replies had been brief and very much to the point, despite attempts to draw her out. Much later, she'd realised that much of the questioning had been aimed at coaxing her into an admission that New Wave wasn't supplying her needs as a person. While Amy hadn't been entirely honest with the woman, she justified it by noting that she already lied to Vicky, the public and herself; what was one more? And if anyone was going to cut her ties with New Wave, it was going to be her, not some overly-officious busybody.

"I … guess so?" the girl replied, after apparently giving the matter a little thought. "Though 'poaching' sounds weird. I'm just asking if you'd like to be a part of our team at some point." Her tone was matter-of-fact, as if she were offering to share a sandwich with Amy. Want some of my lunch? Want to be a part of our team?

Amy glanced around, but there was nobody within listening distance. "Okay, so you're a cape," she said quietly. "And you're forming a team, and you want me on it." She glanced toward Vicky, then did a double-take. She had no idea where Vicky had gotten the marker pen from, but the red-headed girl had pulled up the back of her t-shirt, and Vicky was carefully autographing the girl's lower back. Shaking her head slightly, she turned back toward the brunette. "Are your friends capes too, or are they just the designated distraction? Is this whole thing just an excuse to get bragging rights for having me as a bestie? Because I don't do besties."

"One of them is, yes," the girl confirmed at once. "But this is a legitimate team we're forming. We don't have a name or even costumes yet, but one of us is a Thinker who specialises in … well, management. She's got a power that lets her pick out the very best people for a specific job, and advise them on how to do it most efficiently. And apparently 'being part of our team' is a job she can zero in on." She smiled and spread her hands. "Also, I'm a precog. My power gave us a better than fifty percent chance of recruiting you, but with a strong chance you won't say yes immediately, so this is more of a heads-up than a full recruitment pitch." She held out her hand. "And I just realised that I never introduced myself. I'm Taylor. It's nice to meet you."

Automatically, Amy shook the proffered hand, wondering if she should get up and go over to Vicky, or let Taylor keep talking. Glancing in that direction, she could tell that the redhead, her shirt back in place, was telling some sort of dirty joke. The younger girl—Dinah, if she recalled correctly—was blushing to the roots of her hair, and Vicky was of course laughing her head off. When she looked back at Taylor, the respite had allowed her to collect her thoughts; some less than pleasant notions were suggesting themselves to her. Her voice was a little more curt as she replied. "Yeah, hi. I'm guessing you already know who I am. One more question; did you pick my name out of a hat, or were you simply interested in getting a team healer for free? Because I don't do personal requests, and I don't join other teams out of the blue just because someone asks."

"Actually, neither." Taylor leaned forward, her expression earnest. "I wouldn't even be here if my power hadn't given the result that it did. We just got the impression that you'd do a good job with us, and you'd be happier and better off as a result. We've been letting our powers guide us to our potential recruits and as a result, we've got two definites and a maybe." The corner of her mouth quirked upward again. "I think you'll be kinda surprised when you learn who else is going to be on the team."

Amy began to wonder exactly who she might be referring to; there weren't all that many independent capes in Brockton Bay, after all. More to the point, who would the heavy hitter be? Even if they could convince someone from the Protectorate or Wards to join their group (yeah, as if), the honest truth was that nobody on either team was really in Vicky's league as far as being a 'heavy hitter' went. She rejected out of hand the notion that they might have recruited Lung or someone from the Empire (because hahahahanope), which left the pickings rather bare. This train of thought ended up in a logical conundrum; if Taylor was telling the truth, her team had managed to recruit a heavy hitter Amy had never heard of. But everyone had heard of the heavy hitters out there. It was kind of a factor in being a heavy hitter.

The trouble was, her handshake with Taylor had given Amy an insight into the shape of Taylor's thoughts, as well as other aspects. While she shied away from actually affecting peoples' brains, she had no problem looking at them and interpreting what was going on in there. As such, it was easy for her to determine that yes, Taylor had an active gemma. However, she was also exhibiting all the telltales of cautious honesty; while she wasn't lying, or even being directly deceptive, there were things she wasn't telling Amy yet. Which made Amy kind of curious; although she knew she should get up and walk away—the very idea of trying to recruit her was ridiculous—she didn't feel like it, quite yet. I'll listen to her spiel, then shoot her down before we go. Besides, Vicky seemed to be in the middle of telling one of her favourite cape stories, the one about Mouse Protector and the jello monster. It would be mean to make her go before she got to the punchline.

"Well, if you're gonna keep me in the dark, I'm never gonna know, am I?" Amy let some of her inner snark out with that line. She usually kept it leashed up, only to be inflicted on suitable targets, but none of the New Wave adults were around and Taylor had kind of asked for it. "And anyway, just a heads-up? Probably not the best idea to tell me your secret identity after revealing you're a cape." Taylor didn't have to know Amy could tell she was one just from touch, after all. "You're kind of new at this, aren't you?"

"Oh, you knew I was a cape as soon as you touched me," Taylor replied breezily. Ignoring the look of shock on Amy's face—the fuck? How did she know?—she went on as if discussing nothing more important than the weather. "And we go to the same school, so I doubt very much that a mask would help for very long. So I decided to come clean straight up. Anyway, I ran the numbers, and you've got a very low percentage chance of deciding to out me."

Amy stared at Taylor as a memory finally clicked into place. "That's where I've seen you before. You do go to Arcadia. I've seen you in the halls a few times. You transferred in just after the beginning of the semester, right? Someone said something about coming in from Winslow?" There'd been more than that; Amy had heard rumours about bullying and a locker, but she didn't know how much was true and she wasn't sure she wanted to pry.

"Something like that, yeah." Taylor cleared her throat then grimaced, looking more than a little uncomfortable. "Um, I know you just said you don't do private requests and I understand if you're not interested in joining us right now, but what's your view on healing people injured by parahumans, especially if by doing so you'd almost definitely save their life?" By the time she finished saying this, she was back to her intent look; this was obviously something that was important to her.

Wait, what now? "Uh, you know you could've led with that." Amy felt more than a little off balance. "This person is dying of their injuries, and you're wasting your time talking to me in a mall?" This didn't make sense; Taylor was altogether too calm for someone whose friend was in such a precarious state. When they'd made physical contact, she'd detected no real urgency in the skinny teen's mind.

"It's a little more complicated than that." The uncomfortable look came back, but only for a moment before switching out for a more measured expression, as if Taylor had changed her mind about what she was going to say at the last moment. "You know Kaiser's dead, right?"

"Well, yeah." If anyone in Brockton Bay hadn't heard, it was because they were living under a rock. An actual, literal rock. The PHO boards were full of reactions to the event, mainly hilarious; there was a whole thread dedicated to memes based around the fact that he'd apparently been struck by lightning in the middle of a thunderstorm while using his metal manipulation powers on a rooftop. Amy herself was curious about how he'd been killed; according to her high school physics textbook, the metal armour he habitually encased himself in should've conducted the electricity around him, especially if it was wet. Even if it cooked him a little, he should've survived the experience. But, for whatever reason, he obviously hadn't. Now the Empire Eighty-Eight was reportedly undergoing a certain level of chaos. "How is this connected to your friend?"

"She was on the rooftop, too. About ten seconds before he was struck by lightning, he stabbed her in the stomach," Taylor said in a totally matter-of-fact tone. "She's in good condition at the moment but there's already been one attempt on her life, and my power tells me Hookwolf and a couple of others are likely to try again. Meanwhile, she's flat on her back in a hospital bed, and there's only so much we can do to protect her."

This was too much. "Whoa, time out," protested Amy, even going so far as to form the 'T' with her hands. "Details. I need details. What was your friend doing on that rooftop? What was Kaiser doing there? Why did he stab her? Why is the Empire trying to kill her if she had nothing to do with how he died? What aren't you telling me?"

Taylor took a deep breath. "Yeah," she said unhappily. "This is the bit you aren't going to like. But I want you to do me the favour of hearing me out before you make a judgement, okay?" Her eyes probed Amy's carefully. "It's really important. Please?"

Amy bit her lip. She hated being blackmailed emotionally; Taylor wasn't Vicky, but she was still managing to pull it off somehow. "Okay, fine," she said grudgingly. "I'm listening." After all, what was the harm in finding out what Taylor wanted to tell her? If she didn't like it, all she had to do was say no. And from what Taylor had said, she wasn't going to like it. Still, she'd said she'd listen, so she was going to listen.

"Okay." Taylor paused for a moment. "I was going to open with how Kaiser was trying to kidnap a teenage girl, and the woman he stabbed was trying to stop him, but that's leaving out some very important details, and I don't want to make it look like I'm manipulating the narrative here, so this is the straight story." Ignoring Amy's double-blink at the phrase 'manipulating the narrative', she went on. "Our heavy hitter is Purity. She's Kaiser's ex-wife and the mother of one of his three children. She left the Empire when she divorced him, and she been trying to become recognised as a hero ever since. We recruited her earlier this month, and it all happened at her apartment building. The girl Kaiser was trying to kidnap is his teenage daughter by a woman he knew years ago, who didn't want to go with him. He wanted to have her in his power to force her mother to come back to him. But she—"

"Whoa!" Amy made the time-out gesture again. "Run that past me again, slowly. Purity is your heavy hitter? Empire Purity? And she's trying to go straight? How am I even supposed to believe that?" She stared at Taylor suspiciously. Was this some sort of con job to try to bring her into a villain team? Had Taylor even specified that she and her friends were heroes?

Taylor shrugged. "I believe her. She got right into his face to prevent him from kidnapping his other daughter, and he nearly killed her for it. In fact, he was just about to finish the job when he was struck by lightning." Which sounded frankly incredible, but something about the tale rang true. "Unfortunately, although my powers assured me the Empire wasn't going to cause trouble with Purity over this matter, it seems Hookwolf and a couple of his more violent friends have broken away from the organisation to take matters into their own hands. By killing Purity for 'betraying' Kaiser, as it happens. Cricket's already tried, and been brought into custody, but that was only the start. And in a hospital bed, Purity's kind of vulnerable."

Even though Amy had never encountered a precog with the level of precision Taylor seemed to be displaying before, it wasn't the first time she'd heard of Thinker powers being problematic with overly-specific answers. Asking the right questions, it seemed, was key to getting the right answers. Of course, knowing exactly what to ask was also very useful. In the meantime, this caused a useful query to occur to her. "So how come you haven't called in the PRT and Protectorate? If Purity honestly wants to go straight and needs protection at the same time, they should jump at this." She didn't know that she would—Carol's views on villainous capes were hard to scrub out of her brain—but it was obvious that they needed all the heroic capes they could muster.

"You'd think, but no." Taylor crossed her arms, looking irritated. "She's been telling them for a while that she wants to go straight, but they're refusing to let her just step over the fence. They want her to turn herself in and face trial for her crimes first. Meanwhile, she's got a little baby girl who'd go to Kaiser, or would have anyway. And of course, after she got out, she'd never get her baby back. Kaiser was an asshole like that. And even though she never unmasked to the PRT, they've figured out who she is in her secret identity, but they just can't prove it. So they're pressuring her while she's flat on her back, trying to get her to out herself. And once again, if she gave herself up, she'd lose her kid to Child Services." Taylor leaned closer and lowered her voice a little. "Just between you and me? If her baby ever got taken away, I think Purity would level a lot of Brockton Bay trying to get her back."

"Holy shit." Amy shook her head slowly, her head spinning from the rapid-fire revelations. It seemed that Taylor's up-and-coming team had indeed recruited a member of the Empire—or at least an ex-member, which was still kind of ballsy—who the PRT could've had on their side, if they'd just pulled their heads out of their asses. She'd seen this sort of thing happen before; it seemed to be a failing of the bureaucratic mind, or something like that. But back to the matter at hand. "So … Hookwolf wants to kill Purity for defying Kaiser and getting him killed? And you just want me to … what? Heal her so she can be on her feet and able to defend herself when he comes for her next?"

"It would be nice," Taylor allowed. "Especially given that she's our only combat cape at the moment. There's one other, but that one's …" She paused, obviously trying to think of a word. " … reluctant to fight," she finished at last. "It's a special situation." Her posture was more tense now that the elephant in the room had finally revealed itself. "Will you help? Please?"

Amy rubbed her chin. "So, let me get this straight. You want to recruit me, because your precognition apparently said I might be interested in joining your team at some point. But more importantly, you want me to heal your one combat-capable member—who happens to be an ex-supervillain wanted for serious crimes in the service of the Empire—so that when Hookwolf tries to execute her, she's not a sitting target. Is that about it?" It was, she had to admit, a fairly unique situation; definitely not one she'd ever encountered before. And to be honest, the idea of quitting New Wave held an unexpected appeal. The only thing holding her in the team at the moment was Vicky, and even that was based around her pseudo-incestuous attraction to her sister, which she was going to admit to nobody.

But if she moved teams, she'd no longer be near Vicky, and maybe she'd be able to attain some distance from that problem as well. She might even be able to move forward on her own. And given that at least two of the other members of the team were around her own age, she could have friends with whom she wasn't hopelessly in love. The idea of being on the same team as Purity was something she'd have to come to terms with, but if the woman wanted to be a hero, that was a good thing. Maybe she can give me tips on not giving in to bad impulses.

Taylor nodded seriously. "That's about the long and the short of it," she agreed. "I can take you to meet her and talk to her first, if you want. And, you know, meet the rest of us. Get to know us before you decide." It wasn't obvious whether she meant the decision to heal Purity or to join the team, or perhaps both. "It's just that Hookwolf isn't gonna wait forever."

"Yeah, I got that." "Amy rubbed her thumb over her lips, collecting the last of the sugar from the long-finished churro. She licked her thumb absently as she considered Taylor's words. "Give me your phone number," she said at last. "I'll think about it and call you back."

Wordlessly, Taylor handed her a card with a cell-phone number on it. The speed with which she produced it was almost suspicious. Like she knew what I was going to say before I said it. Frickin' precogs. Amy took it and tucked it away. "Nice talk," she said, and stood up.

"Thanks for listening," Taylor replied. Amy could see her wanting to reiterate her request, but she apparently had more self-control than that. "See you later?" Or maybe not.

Amy already knew what her decision was going to be. "I said I'd think about it." Raising her voice, she called out to Vicky. "Hey, if you're quite finished making out with your fans, Mom's expecting us home."

"Ames, geez, wow. Snarky much?" Vicky broke away from the other two, a broad grin on her face. "I'll call you guys, okay? We'll get together sometime."

As they walked from the mall, Amy could almost feel Taylor's gaze on the back of her neck as a palpable thing. She didn't turn around to confirm it, instead addressing her sister. "You were having a lot of fun there. Autographing another girl's butt? Is there something you need to tell me about?"

"It wasn't her butt," Vicky protested. "It was her back. And it was her idea, anyway. She said she was gonna get a photo taken, and get it tattooed on later. She was an absolute hoot. Dunno why you didn't come on over. I think you'd have liked her." She chuckled reminiscently. "And wow, she tells rougher jokes than Uncle Neil does when he's had a few. I thought Dinah's eyebrows were gonna catch on fire, she was blushing so hard."

Amy didn't reply. At first she'd thought the redhead's attention to Vicky was merely a ruse to get her attention, but thinking back … asking someone to autograph her butt, or near enough, was more a groupie thing than a fan thing. Of course, Vicky didn't see it at all. She'd thought they were just chatting and having fun.

Do I really want to get involved with these people, if that girl's got a thing for Vicky? What if Vicky decides she likes her back? She'd already told Taylor she'd think about it; of course, at that time her mind had been made up. But now, a tendril of jealousy was starting to worm its way into her certainty.

I really am going to have to think about this.

<><>​

Monday Night (2330 Hours), 31 January 2011
Outside Brockton Bay General Hospital
Alabaster

"Are you sure about this?" If it wasn't the fourth or fifth time Stormtiger had asked the question, it was probably the tenth or eleventh; Alabaster had lost count half an hour ago. He didn't have quite the same problems that the burly chain-wielding cage fighter did with waiting; for instance, he never suffered from cramps or loss of circulation. The boredom, on the other hand, was doing his head in. It only helped a little that he'd taken care to call shotgun in the van they'd 'liberated' for this job, given that the front seats were always more comfortable than the back. And of course, he could wind down the window for ventilation. That was really important, right now.

"Certain." Hookwolf didn't even seem to notice Stormtiger's irritation. Lounging in the driver's seat, he kept his eyes on the little-used side entrance to the hospital. "The receptionist I bribed told me for sure they were gonna be booting her before midnight. Cricket might not've gotten her, but she flushed the bitch out for us, all right. And once we take care of Purity, we see about busting Cricket out." He leaned to one side, and Alabaster winced as a sound not unlike ripping canvas echoed through the van.

The parking lot across the road from the hospital was deserted at this time of night, save for the van. Alabaster knew Hookwolf had picked the vehicle with that in mind; as a very common type of commercial vehicle, it would almost certainly go unnoticed parked overnight in a lot behind a series of shops. The location itself also offered an unparalleled view of the side entrance, which was the one good thing about it.

There were two serious problems with being on stakeout like this. The first, of course, was the boredom. Alabaster liked to be active, a trait he was sure he shared with the two men in the vehicle with him. They couldn't have the internal lights on to read or play cards, because it would make the vehicle stand out in the parking lot like a beacon. A few beers might've helped, but Hookwolf had vetoed that idea; of the three of them, only Alabaster could guarantee to be able to hold his booze. In addition to not wanting any of them to be affected by alcohol at the wrong time, Hookwolf had said he didn't want people having to climb out for a piss every ten minutes. Which was bullshit in Alabaster's mind; if Stormtiger and Hookwolf wanted to be pussies, that was up to them, but he wouldn't have minded a cold one about then.

They had brought along sandwiches and water, which was where the second problem had arisen. These was supposed to last them until the action started, but not being entirely on board with the idea of self-control—they were villains, after all—they'd eaten the lot in ten minutes. And he wasn't sure what Hookwolf had put in his, but the man had been farting on and off ever since. The hassle with having a body that renewed itself every four and a bit seconds was that Alabaster's sense of smell couldn't get desensitised to it. But as bad as he had it, Stormtiger had it worse; in the back, he was trapped with anything that wafted back there. No wonder he was bitching so much.

"Fuck it," Stormtiger said abruptly. "I'm getting out. I can't take—"

"Shit! There she is!" Hookwolf pointed out of his window. Boredom forgotten—though he was never spending more than ten minutes in a car with Hookwolf ever again—Alabaster leaned over and peered across the road. Sure enough, visible through the glass sliding doors was a petite figure slumped over in a wheelchair, being pushed by a nurse. In the street outside, a sedan was just pulling to a halt. Alabaster had no idea where she'd gotten a ride from, given that Night and Fog were still out of town, but he didn't care all that much. Purity was in no shape to fight, and Hookwolf wasn't going to give her the chance to get away.

Hookwolf turned the ignition key, but the engine refused to start. From the sound of it, the engine was turning over strongly, but none of the cylinders were firing. "Let it off and try it again," Alabaster advised; he wasn't a mechanic, but he'd picked a few things up here and there. Sometimes, all that was needed was to give the engine a chance to start fresh, or at least that was the way he thought of it.

It didn't work. The rhehr-rhehr-rhehr-rhehr of the van's engine fruitlessly turning over echoed from the rear of the shops, and Hookwolf cursed luridly. Alabaster saw his leg working and figured he was pumping the accelerator. Which sometimes worked, but sometimes made the problem worse.

"You've fuckin' flooded it," Stormtiger snapped from where he was sitting. "Ease off, you'll warn her." Standing up from his seat, he slid open the side door with a bang. "You'll never get this piece of shit running in time. Let's just go get her." Which was good advice, Alabaster decided, though he wondered how much of it was common sense thinking and how much was Stormtiger not wanting to share the back of the van with Hookwolf's flatulence any more.

Opening his own door, Alabaster got out and headed around the nose of the van to join Hookwolf, while Stormtiger caught up with them a moment later. Across the road, the fall of the ground outside the side door necessitated steps for ambulant pedestrians, which meant a wheelchair ramp consisting of four switchbacks. Purity, still being wheeled by the nurse, was about halfway down to the second switchback. Alabaster checked that his pistol was still in its shoulder holster and quickened his pace; while he had no intention to rob Hookwolf of his prey, nor did he intend for her to get away for want of trying.

They crossed the road at a brisk walk, with Hookwolf in the lead, Alabaster flanking him to the left and Stormtiger to the right. Stormtiger seemed to be breathing deeply of the night air, his chains clinking softly as he strode along. For his part, Alabaster wasn't sure about the sedan which was apparently there to pick up Purity. "What do we do about that?" he asked, indicating the car with a jerk of his head.

"Tell 'em to fuck off," Hookwolf said curtly. He didn't even look over at the car as he spoke, his attention fixed firmly on the figure slumped in the wheelchair. For a moment, Alabaster wondered if they were the victims of some hoax, until the light fell on her face and he recognised Kayden's features. She looked to be horrifically pale, worse than could be attributed to the harsh yellow glare of the street-lights, and her head lolled from side to side as the nurse rolled her along.

Obediently, Alabaster peeled off toward the sedan, which was still waiting with its lights on and engine running. As he came up, the driver's side door opened and a skinny balding guy started to get out. Alabaster pulled his pistol and showed it to the guy. "Fuck off and you get to live," he said bluntly. "Call the cops and you're a dead man." Not that he could carry the latter threat through any time soon, but it was occasionally useful.

The man scrambled back into the car and threw it into drive. Revving the engine, he powered it away from the curb, heading down the street. Alabaster watched it go, then looked back at Purity. The nurse pushing her had stopped on the last switchback and was watching them with a terrified expression on her face. She looked really young to be a nurse, and he wondered briefly if she was pre-med.

Alabaster joined Stormtiger as the latter waited at the side of the road. Alone, Hookwolf approached Purity's wheelchair. He said something to the nurse, and she let go of the handles and backed off. The chair rolled forward a little, until Hookwolf stopped it with his foot. "Purity!" Alabaster heard him say. "You killed Kaiser. This is why you're gonna die." There was no response from the woman in the chair. He shook the chair with his foot. "Purity!"

"Why doesn't he just kill her?" Alabaster asked in an undertone. He hadn't killed all that many people, but to him it didn't matter whether they were awake, asleep or drugged out of their brains.

"It's a thing with him," Stormtiger said, equally quietly. "He likes them to see it coming."

"Purity!" Hookwolf's voice was louder. "You're going to die now!" He shook the chair again, blades sliding from his hands until they were masses of metallic talons. More metal covered his body, building him up until he was a hulking monstrosity. "Can you hear me?"

And then Purity sat up in the chair. "I can hear you," she said clearly. In that instant, she lit up to flashbulb levels of brightness … and Hookwolf exploded. Or rather, Alabaster realised as he picked himself up from the ground and pulled a length of metal from his abdomen, he'd been made to explode. As the ringing died away from his ears and his vision cleared, he saw that the chair was empty, but the brilliant light circling overhead made it all too clear where Purity had gotten to. Also, that Hookwolf's assessment of her not being in any shape to fight was fatally out of date. Still, she wasn't bulletproof, and he was holding a pistol. Raising the weapon, he shaded his eyes and aimed the gun at the brightest point in the sky. A moment later, just as he was about to squeeze the trigger, his hand cramped up and twisted in on itself. Unable to maintain his grip on the pistol, he let it clatter to the ground. What the fuck is going on here?

Up above, Purity curved around and swooped in for an attack run. Alabaster was reasonably sure he'd survive anything but a direct hit. The trouble was, Purity's power wasn't exactly pinpoint, and he couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't get a direct hit on him, even if she was aiming at Stormtiger. That was why he turned and ran away from the tiger-masked man; without his pistol, he was of no use to anyone when it came to fighting the flying Blaster. It was not for nothing that she'd been the Empire's go-to big hitter for ten years.

He was looking over his shoulder at her when she cut loose at Stormtiger. For an instant, he thought she'd missed altogether, as the spiralling blast of energy smashed into the street at Stormtiger's feet. But then, he realised her strategy; chunks of asphalt and concrete, blasted free by her energy beam, were raining in at Stormtiger like particularly lethal hail. Stormtiger was able to deflect small projectiles such as the bits of Hookwolf with his aerokinesis, but this was too much for his power to deal with. As Purity flashed by overhead, Alabaster saw that Stormtiger was out cold in the street, partially buried by the woman's ad-hoc missile barrage.

This was getting weirder by the second. First, his hand just hadn't worked right when he tried to shoot at her—although it felt fine now—and then Purity showed more mercy than he'd known her to do before. What she'd done to Hookwolf was far more in line with the Purity he knew and feared.

He kept running. By now he was certain that he wanted no part of this; any thoughts of revenge were tempered with the rock-solid certainty that pulling this sort of crap would cause his power-instigated invulnerability to be given a severe workout. After all, he had no guarantees that whatever caused her to show mercy to Stormtiger also applied to him.

Actinic light blazed overhead, and then he was looking up into it. As Purity came down in front of him, he slowed and stopped. Shading his eyes, he stared at her, or tried to. "What the fuck do you want?" he demanded; if she was going to kill him, just as well make it quick. And if not, he might actually get answers.

"To be a hero." It wasn't the answer he expected. It was common knowledge among his fellow Empire capes that she'd left Max, but he basically figured she was still out and about, fighting the good fight on her own terms. He didn't much care if she went after the ABB under the Empire flag or not, so long as it got done. Of course, the situation following Kaiser's death had changed the game board somewhat. Belatedly, he realised she was talking again. "What do you want?"

"Not to die right now." It wasn't something he'd ever expected to need to say in all seriousness. Against almost anyone else, he had a good chance of resetting from whatever wounds they caused him. He wasn't so sure about surviving an attack from someone who could literally vaporise his body from the waist up and down. "I guess I surrender?"

"Yes. You do." There was a vague shifting in the intolerable brightness, and he guessed she was pointing back toward the hospital. "Get back there now, so you can wait for the authorities. Or I will hunt you down, and I will make you regret it, very briefly."

After what had transpired with Hookwolf, he had very little doubt that she'd do exactly what she threatened. It occurred to him that the threats weren't very much in line with her stated aim of becoming a hero, but he didn't really feel like pointing this out to her, in case it made her change her mind about letting him live. So he turned around and began trudging back toward the imposing building.

As they got closer, Alabaster saw a woman on the scene who hadn't been there before; wearing a baseball cap pulled low over her eyes and a simple bandanna to mask her lower face, she was kneeling beside Stormtiger. As Purity approached with her captive, the woman stood up. Her posture was a little awkward, as she kept one hand in her jacket pocket; Alabaster assumed as a matter of course that she had a weapon of some sort in there. "He'll live," she told Purity. "Probably has a severe concussion, and almost certainly several broken bones, but his vitals are strong. I figure he'll make a complete recovery, given adequate medical attention."

"Good," said Purity. "Got a zip-tie I can use?" She strolled over to the other woman, who reached into her jeans pocket and pulled some out, all without removing her other hand from her jacket. "Thanks." Taking the ties, Purity went back to Alabaster. "Now, I'm going to zip-tie you to this rail. You can cooperate, or I can blast you unconscious and do it anyway." By which she meant, Alabaster figured, blowing off enough body parts that he passed out.

"I'll cooperate," he said hastily, sticking his hand through the rail and putting his wrists together. After all, jailbreaks were a thing. And ironically enough, he'd probably be safer in jail than on the outside.

"Good," she replied curtly. A moment later, the zip-tie went over his wrists, then she pulled hard to tighten it. He winced as the plastic bit into his skin; she wasn't messing around. Then she put a second one on, and third.

"Hey, a bit tight, aren't they?" he complained, then swallowed as her head turned toward him. "Uh, never mind. I'm sure it'll be all right."

"Good." Purity addressed the masked woman. "You've called the PRT?"

"Just now. The first capes will be along at any moment." The woman tilted her head. "You coming?"

"In a moment." Purity's light died away and she leaned close to Alabaster. "Now, I'm sure they're going to ask all sorts of awkward questions about peoples' identities. What are you going to tell them?"

He looked into the soft brown eyes of the petite woman before him, and saw death looking back at him. "Nothing, nothing at all."

"Good boy." With a razor-edged smile, she patted him on the cheek, then turned and walked away. Together, she and the other woman strolled out of sight.

As the first sirens became audible in the distance, Alabaster was left alone to wonder exactly what the fuck had just happened.



End of Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est
Part Thirteen: Team Building Exercise


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


Tuesday Morning
February 1, 2011
PRT ENE HQ
Director Emily Piggot

In Emily Piggot's expert opinion, mornings existed for the sole purpose of taking bright and hopeful souls and showering them with toxic, radioactive explosive diarrhoea. Not that she had a soul that could be called either bright or hopeful. After surviving Ellisburg and Nilbog, and ten years of subsequently overseeing the seething mass of existential self-hatred collectively known as Brockton Bay, her soul was not in great shape. In order to safely collect it when her time came, whichever higher (or lower) power had been designated for the task would need to make use of a hazmat suit and a biohazard container. But still, mornings seemed determined to shit all over her anyway.

She took a sip of coffee, and her internal rhetoric dialled itself back down to a less scathing level. Picking up the photo before her, she eyed it unfavourably. "So Hookwolf's dead, and Stormtiger and Alabaster are in custody." The photo portrayed none of the three except perhaps Hookwolf, represented by several pieces of metal in the medium distance, but it was nice to be able to make the observation all the same. Closer to the camera, a large section of the street had been blasted away to the depth of a yard or more. Chunks of concrete with asphalt attached, some with dirt still clinging to them, lay haphazardly all over the field of view.

"They were on scene when we arrived," Armsmaster confirmed. "Stormtiger has a number of broken bones and a few internal injuries. I can't see him being up and around within at least two months, maybe three. Alabaster, of course, is perfectly healthy. Hookwolf was … as far as I can tell, they've collected enough pieces to determine that it was indeed Hookwolf, and he is indeed dead."

Emily wondered briefly which of the forensic pathologists had landed the unfortunate job of jigsawing the extremely deceased Hookwolf back together, in an attempt to determine exactly what had disassembled him so thoroughly. Of course, she knew what it was, as did Armsmaster. Or rather, they knew in the absolute sense but not in the legal sense. Which was where the feeling of being shat on from a great height came from.

Hookwolf's demise was something she felt capable of coming to terms with. Even if the man technically hadn't had a kill order up against his name (which made this murder), he was still a killer who had been sentenced to the Birdcage. His sentence, thanks to last night's events, had been abruptly and unexpectedly upgraded to death with no remission for good behaviour. Brockton Bay was measurably safer for his passing, especially for any ethnic minorities in Empire territory, not to mention stray dogs.

Likewise, Emily would shed no tears for Stormtiger's broken bones. The man had inflicted far worse on far more innocent people. He would even survive and recover, in time.

Alabaster was the one least deserving of sympathy, having come out of the experience with nothing but mussed clothing. Interestingly enough, though, he'd said exactly nothing to the PRT troopers who had carefully collected and transported him back to the headquarters. In her experience, villains who had been so thoroughly trounced (especially with a death) were the ones who sang the loudest about who had done this to them, as though outraged by the idea that they could be targeted with the same violence they were used to inflicting on others. So Alabaster's resolute silence on the matter should have been speaking volumes to her. She just had to find the decryption key.

"Are we sure it was Purity?" She asked the question out loud for the first time. This was what burned her the most. They'd had a member of the Empire—a powerful member of the Empire—in a weakened position. Or rather, they'd had someone they very strongly suspected in that position. The right push, to get her to give herself up to them, and they could have turned her. Even if she gave up nothing on the Empire—and to be honest, with Kaiser dead, the Empire seemed to be disintegrating anyway—there was a possibility they could have rebranded her into a hero. But on their terms, not on hers. In order for the higher-ups to be comfortable with such a situation, they had to have the leverage, not her.

"It fits her capabilities to within a few percentiles," Armsmaster noted. "There is one worrying discrepancy, though." One metal-clad finger pointed at the gouges in the street. "She could've ripped a hole clear down to bedrock if she'd wished. This was her using her powers with a very light hand, which should've been impossible with the drugs they were using to help manage the pain. So when she left the hospital, she was healthy enough to fly and deliberately smash Stormtiger with chunks of debris to bring him down."

"But Hookwolf walked right up to her, close enough that when she powered up, she blasted him across three city blocks," Emily agreed. "He had to know she was aware that he was planning to kill her. Why did he let her get so close? Why did he even give her a chance to get a shot off, if she was on her feet?" She didn't even posit the idea that Purity had been too weak to blast deeper into the street; the devastating power of the shot that had killed Hookwolf gave the lie to that idea.

"So who helped her, and where did she go?" Armsmaster wanted to know. "Even with those three out of the way, she still couldn't be certain that the rest of the Empire wasn't likewise gunning for her. Someone helped her out. Someone healed her. There's no word on the street about any new schisms in the Empire, so it probably wasn't Othala. So who was it, and where did they take her?"

Emily shrugged. The list of parahumans with healing powers wasn't very long. It was only by statistical coincidence that two of them resided in Brockton Bay. On the downside, one of them was a villain. She considered this to be compelling evidence that the universe had a sick sense of humour. The next most prominent cape whose power could technically be used for healing was Bonesaw, of the Slaughterhouse Nine; Emily's opinion of this fact was obscenely unprintable.

"I suppose we could ask Panacea if she knows anything about this?"

"We can try." Armsmaster's tone was doubtful. "She gets irritated when anyone asks who she's healed recently."

<><>​

Andrea Campbell's Apartment
Taylor

"Seriously, what the hell?"

The small apartment was somewhat crowded, made even more so by the fact that Panacea was pacing back and forth across it. Taylor and Annette sat on the sofa along with Kayden, while Danny took up the apartment's sole armchair, with Andrea lounging across his lap. Janet, wearing clothing donated by Andrea, stood just inside the kitchen nook as if unsure if she was supposed to be there.

"I still can't believe I agreed to do it. And I just lied to the PRT and said I didn't!" Panacea paced once more across the living room. On reaching the far wall, she turned and planted her back against the firm surface. "You were supposed to leave the hospital without anyone getting hurt once you were healed. But you killed Hookwolf! Why didn't you just fly away?" Arms folded, she glared at Kayden.

"Because he would never have stopped," Relaxing on the sofa, Kayden seemed unfazed by Panacea's anger. "If he hadn't seen me leave, he would've decimated the people in the hospital. Even if he did, he would've tortured a few to find out where I might've gone. People like him are very final about people they consider to have betrayed them. I would've always been looking over my shoulder."

"But you didn't betray him," Danny protested from where he sat. "Or even Kaiser. He came looking for a fight with you."

Andrea shrugged, then wriggled her shoulders under Danny's arm. "With Max, there was never much of a difference between saying no to him and betraying him."

Kayden shared a look of understanding with the redhead. "And Hookwolf was all about making sure nobody disrespected the Empire twice. Or even once, if he could manage it."

"Well, I'm glad you're alive," Taylor said, trying to lighten the mood. She looked across at where Janet lurked half-hidden in the kitchen nook. As per usual, the careworn blonde had her left wrist pushed into her jacket pocket. Taylor wondered briefly why Janet hadn't asked Panacea to grow the hand back for her, then decided it wasn't her business. "And I'm glad you were there to help out."

Janet shrugged briefly. "The kid was really persuasive." The ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You'd almost think it was her power, or something."

"She is good at finding the right person for the job," Taylor agreed with a smirk. "We wouldn't be where we are without her." She paused, unsure of how to continue. "I don't want to push, but …"

"After last night?" Janet grimaced. "You guys have got a lot of problems here in Brockton Bay. Confrontation's not my thing, but I don't think I could live with myself if I walked away now, then found out later you got killed because I wasn't here."

"That's a relief," Kayden gave Janet a genuine smile. "Actually, there's something I was wondering. I know you don't like using your powers, but how did you stop Alabaster from shooting at me? For a second there, I thought I was going to have to smear him across the street as well."

Janet held up her right hand and spread the fingers. "Same way I helped you out against Cricket. The human body's got water everywhere. Muscles need it to work right. I migrated water from his hand and wrist into his arm until all the muscles froze up."

"Wow, damn." Danny shook his head. "I'm just glad their van wouldn't start. It might've made things a lot messier."

This time, Janet smiled slightly. "I used to own a yacht with an auxiliary motor, and I know just about all the ways a little moisture in the wrong place can shut a diesel engine down almost instantly. Besides, it was a crappy motor. Almost didn't need my help at all."

"Okay, seriously? I'm even more impressed than I was before," Annette said. "So, could you migrate water inside people anywhere you like?"

"Technically, yes." Janet's smile was replaced by a frown. "I'm not about to kill anyone, though." She tucked her right hand under her left arm, possibly as a substitute for crossing her arms. "It's bad enough using my powers at all."

"No, no," Annette retorted with a wide grin. "Could you make someone want to pee, real bad?" Her grin morphed into her mother's trademark smirk. "Can you imagine the look on Armsmaster's face if he's giving you a hard time and you're just increasing the pressure a little at a time until he has to go? And then he's trying to make excuses, and you're like 'actually, I do have questions', and he's trying to get away without seeming like he's trying to get away."

Taylor shook her head. "Only you. Only you could think of using a power like that for a prank." It would be a mean and horrible thing to do to Armsmaster. Did it make her a bad person that she now wanted to see it happen?

Annette nodded proudly. She and her mother spoke up at the same time. "Darn tootin'!"

"I could probably do it," Janet said. "But it's a bad idea. If he got the idea I was messing with him—and from what I've heard of Armsmaster, his suit's probably lined with sensors that might detect something like that—then I'd be in ten times whatever trouble I was in before."

"Plus, he probably uses a catheter," Danny put in. "If I was going to be locked in a steel shell for eight to twelve hours a day, I'd certainly consider one."

Annette pouted. "Aw, you're no fun. I was enjoying the mental image of Armsmaster having to pour pee out of his boot."

"As amusing as that might be," Danny noted, "we do have a more important matter at hand." He nodded toward Panacea, who was still glowering at Janet, though not as intensely as before. "Miss Dallon, you've aired your complaint against Kayden. She's explained why she did what she did. Is there still an issue to address, or are you satisfied?"

Panacea huffed but her arms relaxed a little, moving own until her left hand clasped her right wrist. "I guess she's got a point. Dad and Mom always told me to never get too close to him. I'm a noncombatant, but that wouldn't necessarily stop someone like him."

Taylor got up from the sofa and went over to her. "I get it that you're upset someone died. I mean, you're a healer. It's kind of what you want to prevent. But if you were interested in joining, we'd have more options to go on with." She tilted her head. "Want me to roll the numbers for and against you joining?" Opening her hand, she showed Panacea the five ten-sided dice resting there.

"Wait, you use actual real dice?" Panacea stared at the plastic polyhedrons. "They look really weird. How does that even work?"

Taylor shrugged. "I ask a question about probabilities and roll the dice. They give me the percentage chance of what I'm asking about." She decided not to bring up the alphabet dice for the moment. There was no sense in overloading Panacea with information. "Like I told you when we met, I'm a precog, but it expresses through dice rolling and stuff." She grinned. "As a bonus, I can make dice do basically anything I want."

"Anything, huh?" Panacea's expression was still a little dubious, though it was thawing. "Show me."

"Sure." Taylor tossed all five dice over her shoulder, in the general direction of the table. She heard them hit, and saw the look of scepticism on Panacea's face dissolve into disbelief. Still sitting on the sofa, Annette audibly snickered.

"Oh, no fucking way." Panacea stepped past her and stared at the perfect stack of dice on the table; five dice, one on top of the other. "You weren't even looking."

"It's my power." Taylor scooped up the dice again. "Name a possible outcome of you joining."

Panacea frowned, but the expression was more contemplative than dubious. "Okay, what are the odds of me joining your team and not having it screw up things for New Wave?"

Taylor nodded. "Okay, rolling." The polyhedrons clattered on the faux-wood surface. She eyed the result. "Okay, eighty-seven point one nine four percent chance that they won't suffer from you leaving."

"That's what, a one in six, one in seven chance of problems? I'm not sure I like those odds." Panacea didn't look happy at that.

"Chance she'll be happier in the team than in New Wave," sang out Annette from the sofa.

Taylor picked up the dice. "I can do that. You good with that question?"

Reluctantly, Panacea nodded. "Go ahead."

Again, Taylor rolled. The dice came to a stop, and Taylor nodded. "That's … huh. Seventy-nine point one three one percent chance that you'll be happier in this team."

"How do you even know which one is which?" asked Panacea, pointing at the dice. "I mean, that could be eleven or thirty-one, or ninety-seven."

Taylor shrugged. "How do you know how to heal someone? I look at the roll, and I know how the numbers go." She picked up one of the dice and tossed it over her shoulder in the direction of where her father shared the armchair with Andrea. "Dad, think quick."

"Got it," her father reported. "What do you want me to do with it?"

"Pick a number and hold it up so Panacea can see it," Taylor said, still not looking. "Don't tell me what it is. I will then roll that number."

Panacea looked past Taylor at her father. "Okay, got it."

"Good." Taylor rolled the other four dice on the table. They came up showing different numbers.

When Panacea turned to look at them, she burst out laughing. "Uh, sorry to burst your bubble, but not one of these dice is what your dad showed me. They're not even in sequence! You've got a one, two twos and a three."

Taylor nodded. "I know. What's on the one he showed you?" She'd never tried this particular trick before, but she thought it should work.

"Eight," Panacea said triumphantly.

"Uh huh," said Taylor, and gestured at the dice on the table. "What do those add up to?"

Panacea looked at the dice again and her lips moved silently. Just as her expression changed, Annette burst out laughing, as did Andrea. "Fuck!" the healer spluttered, looking back at the die Danny was still holding. Taylor looked over too, to see the '8' still showing. Staring once again at the four dice, Panacea shook her head. "How the fuck?"

"I told you. Precog and total control of thrown dice." Taylor shrugged.

"Okay, got it." Panacea shook her head ruefully. "Just one more question. How do I know you aren't rigging the predictions to show what you want?"

Taylor took a deep breath, reminding herself how it must look from the outside. "I can't. If I call the roll for a prediction, intending to lie about it, I get hand cramps." She'd only tried it once, but if it got Panacea on board, she was willing to undergo it again. "Here." She held out her free hand.

Tentatively, Panacea took it. "Okay …"

Taylor gritted her teeth in anticipation. "This roll is to determine …" She cast about for something. "Tomorrow's weather on TV. The temperature." Two of the dice she put down, leaving two in her hand. "I intend to manipulate the roll and lie about it." Drawing back her hand, she went to throw the dice. In her mind, she told the dice to come up '99', which was basically impossible, even in Brockton Bay, on a winter morning. But, exactly as had happened when she tested this before, a painful cramp locked on to her hand, bending the wrist over and forcing the fingers into a claw. Involuntarily, her hand closed over the dice, preventing them from accidentally falling to the table. "Fuck, aaarrrgh!" Pulling her other hand free of Panacea's, she clutched at her spasming fingers.

"Jesus," blurted the healer. "I felt that. That was your power?"

"Taylor!" Danny started to his feet; Andrea twisted adroitly, managing to scoot her butt on to the chair arm instead of landing on the floor. Barely slower than him, Annette and Kayden also stood up. "Are you okay?"

Taylor held up one finger in a 'wait' motion and silently counted to ten. By 'twenty', she felt capable of coherent speech. "Yes," she gritted as an answer to both questions, her breath hissing between her teeth. "It really, really doesn't like me lying about the rolls I make." Slowly, she managed to prise her fingers apart to retrieve the dice. "It's not like a normal cramp. It's already easing off. Give me five or ten minutes and I should be good again. Maybe."

"Can I help?" asked Panacea, her tone and expression showing concern for the first time.

"If you can make it hurt a bit less, that'd be great," Taylor said. She held out her hand to Panacea, hoping the healer could actually do something about it.

Panacea put her hand on Taylor's cramped fingers and the pain eased right off. Taylor began to uncurl her hand. "Wow, that's—" The moment they lost contact with each other, the pain flared up to what it had been before Panacea tried to fix matter. Her fingers locked up again. "Ow. Ow, ow, owww." She cradled the clawed fingers with her other hand. "That was not a great idea."

"What the hell?" Panacea frowned. "I turned off the cramp and scavenged away the waste products that caused it. Can I look?"

"Uh huh." Taylor gingerly held out her hand again. "I think it'd be best to let it sort itself out."

"Don't worry, just looking." Panacea touched it once more. "Huh. Wow. It looks almost like it reversed everything I did for you."

"Told you." Taylor's breath hissed between her teeth as she massaged her hand. Gradually, it began to uncramp again. "It doesn't like me lying about rolls. I've heard of Thinker headaches but for me, it's my hands."

"Okay, I guess you're on the level," Panacea said slowly. "Still, I need to think about this. I don't want to rush into making a decision this far-reaching."

Taylor recalled the rolls which had informed her that Lisa would be required to induce Panacea into making the final decision. "That's fair," she agreed. "The last thing I want to do is push you outside your comfort zone."

Panacea nodded, looking just a little relieved. "Thanks. Even if I do join you guys, I have no idea how I'm gonna break it to Carol and Mark. Or Vicky." From the expression on her face, she wasn't anticipating that specific revelation with any particular joy.

"That's okay. You take your time." Moving over to put his hand on Taylor's shoulder, Danny gave Panacea a reassuring nod. "Whichever way you choose, we'll definitely owe you for healing Kayden. So don't ever feel that you're obligated to join."

"I appreciate that," said Panacea. She gave Kayden one last unreadable glance, then turned back to Danny. "Would I be able to get a lift home, please? I don't want my folks worrying, and I'm pretty sure you don't want them to know about you yet." Her lips twisted in wry amusement. "Because if you think I'm a hardass when it comes to villains, you ain't seen nothin' yet when it comes to Brandish."

Danny grimaced. "I haven't got my car back from the garage yet."

"That's okay," Andrea told him, standing up from the chair arm. Pulling her keys from her pocket, she spun them on her finger. "I can give you a lift." She shot Panacea a brilliant smile. "You okay with that?"

Her smile was infectious. Panacea shrugged and gave her a half-smile back. "Uh, sure, Ms Campbell. That would be nice."

"Ooh, can I come too?" asked Annette eagerly. "I didn't get to talk to Panacea the last time we met." She gave the healer a grin. "I think you're even cooler than your sister."

Taylor smirked inwardly at Panacea's double-blink. Annette's personality was almost as forceful as her mother's, and this was the first time the healer had been hit with the full brunt of it.

"Yeah, that's why you were talking to her and not me, before," Panacea retorted. "You got her to sign your butt!"

Annette rolled her eyes. "Lower back, lower back. Anyway, that was just to keep her occupied so Taylor could lay it out for you without any interruptions." She got up from the sofa. "Anyone can be cool with an Alexandria package and a short skirt—not the best choice for a flyer, just saying. But to have a behind-the-scenes power like yours and keep doing it, day after day, that takes serious dedication. So, can I come along? Pretty please with sugar on top?" She batted her eyelashes at Panacea in an almost cartoonish fashion.

The healer hesitated, looking bemused. "I … guess so?" she ventured.

"Cool, it's settled then." Andrea tossed the keys into the air and caught them again. "Let's go, kids." She headed for the door, with Panacea trailing behind. Andrea paused just long enough to give Taylor a wink, then followed on.

Taylor waited until the door closed, then snorted with amusement. Janet and Kayden looked at her, their expressions curious. On the other hand, Danny didn't seem at all surprised by this turn of events.

"Did I miss something?" asked Janet, sounding puzzled.

"I think Annette's got a crush," Danny explained. From the twinkle in his eye, he'd come to the same conclusion as Taylor; that there was more than a simple crush going on. Taylor wasn't sure if Annette would actually be hitting on Panacea on the car drive home or just flirting, or even if there was a difference when it came to the redhead.

"Hm." Janet's look of enlightenment morphed into amusement. "She's very … direct, isn't she?"

"Wait, she's gay? Does her mother know?" Kayden sounded concerned.

Taylor couldn't help it. She burst out laughing, half a second ahead of Danny.

"What?" Kayden frowned. "What's so funny?"

Shaking her head and still giggling, Taylor looked over at Kayden. "Annette's whatever she wants to be. And yeah, her mom knows."

"And she's okay with this?" Kayden looked at Danny. "You're okay with this?"

Danny sobered up almost immediately. "Yeah, I'm okay with it." He eyed Kayden sternly. "What's your problem with it?"

Kayden blinked at the intensity in his voice. Taylor flicked a look at Janet. The blonde was watching the interaction, her expression wary.

"Uh … it's not … usual?" ventured Kayden. Taylor got the impression that she'd been about to say something else, then changed her mind at the last moment.

Danny shook his head. "That's Kaiser talking, right there. Being gay isn't a crime, or even a sin. It's just another way people do things. Andrea's been interested in women as long as I've known her, and Annette seems to be much the same way herself. There's nothing wrong with it. If you believe otherwise, then there's less difference between you and the rest of the Empire than you seem to think."

Wow. Taylor was taken aback by the harsh tone in her father's voice. She hadn't heard him take a stance like this in … forever. But if she was startled, Kayden was astonished.

"What?" The petite brunette stared at Danny. "How can you even say that? I'm making an effort, here. That sort of thing is …" She paused. "Wait, Andrea's gay too? But … she was sitting on your lap!"

"Oh boy, yeah, she's definitely into women," said Janet unexpectedly. "She hit on me the other night. But once I made it clear I wasn't interested, she backed right off."

"But they're driving Panacea home," Kayden looked at Danny then Janet. "There's nobody else in the car with them. What if …"

"Do not finish that sentence," Danny growled. "Panacea's a cape, with the ability to put people to sleep at a touch. You think anyone could lay a hand on her without her permission?"

Kayden didn't seem convinced. "But what if …" Her voice trailed off again.

Now Danny looked more than a little pissed. He took a step closer to Kayden. "But what if what?"

"What if Annette makes a move and Panacea doesn't say no?" asked Kayden.

"Well, if that happens, it's between the two of them," Danny snapped. "None of my business, none of yours. Now, what's your problem with gays or lesbians?"

It took Kayden a moment to answer. "Uh …" She looked from Danny to Janet and back again. "I've got no problem with them as people, but … I just don't approve of that sort of thing."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Well, can you keep that attitude to yourself, or is this going to be a problem?"

"I don't know; is it?" Kayden met his gaze with a defiant stare. "We'll never be an effective team if Andrea keeps hitting on me—"

Janet snorted with amusement. "Yeah, that's gonna happen." When Kayden stared in her direction, she shook her head. "She's not gonna be hitting on you. You're not her type."

"Type?" Kayden shook her head. "That sort of person doesn't have a 'type'."

Danny raised a single finger, then turned and stomped to the front door. Opening it, he exited then slammed it behind him with enough force to rattle the pictures on the walls.

"Well, congratulations," Taylor observed dryly. "I've only ever seen him this mad once before in my life." She didn't explain exactly when that had been.

"What did I say?" Kayden looked puzzled.

"Did you even hear yourself just then?" asked Janet, moving out of the kitchen nook. "Everyone has a type. That's a fact. I've only known Andrea a couple days and even I can tell that. She likes people who are tall or muscular, or both. You're neither. Trust me, you've got nothing to worry about on that front."

Taylor tried not to stare at the blonde. This was the most that Janet had asserted herself since Taylor had met her. Up until this point, the one-handed woman had been diffident to the point of fading into the background. Making a firm statement about Andrea's preferences was a small step, but it was definitely a new look on her.

"What?" Kayden turned toward Janet. "How can you defend—"

"Knock it off!" Janet interrupted her with a horizontal chop of her good hand. "I'm not 'defending' her, because she's done nothing wrong. I'm telling you how things are."

"But she hit on you! You said so yourself!" protested Kayden.

"And so have hundreds of guys, and I turned them down just as flat too!" Taking a moment to calm down, Janet went on in a quieter voice. "Yeah, it threw me at the time. But once I made it clear I wasn't interested, at least she backed off. Can you say that about the men in your life? About Kaiser?"

Kayden opened her mouth. Taylor even saw her lips begin to form the word 'yes'. But then she closed her mouth as her brain caught up with her automatic reaction. She glanced at Taylor, who raised an eyebrow. Slowly, she took a deep breath.

"Well, no," she admitted reluctantly, letting her breath out in a long sigh.

In the long silence that followed, Taylor became aware that the front door had opened again. Danny was standing in the doorway silently. She wasn't sure how long he'd been watching and listening.

"Kayden," he said, drawing her attention. "You stood up for Annette, which we all appreciate. If Max had taken her, Andrea would've had an impossible task getting her out of his clutches. You stood in his way, and you nearly died for it. I get that you have no interest in women. Are you able to step back and allow Andrea and Annette their own preferences, or are you going to insist on trying to enforce your views on them?"

"God damn it," muttered Kayden. She scrubbed at her face with her hands. "It's really hard to separate what I think from what the Empire's been telling me to think for the past ten years." Lowering her hands, she looked up at Danny and Janet. "Part of me wants to condemn them for being like that. But I can hear what you're saying, and I get it that you think I'm wrong to think that way."

"So what are you going to do about it?" asked Janet. "Are you just going to let a bunch of Nazis keep dictating to you?"

Kayden's lips quirked sideways in ironic amusement. "Yeah, okay, I get it. They're Nazi assholes. Kaiser was a control freak of the highest order. I don't know if that was him being a Nazi or just him being an asshole. But I'm not going to let him keep controlling me after he's dead. So I'll do a deal with you. If I say or do something that's offensive to you, call me out on it. If I think you're justified, I'll stop doing it. Okay?"

Danny stepped into the apartment and closed the door, then glanced at Janet. "I think it's a good deal. What do you think?"

"What are you asking me for?" asked Janet, looking somewhat surprised. "I'm not in charge, here."

"You stepped up and made a few good points," Danny reminded her. "And you're the only other adult cape on the team. Your opinion counts."

"I was just saying what I thought needed to be said, but okay." Janet looked at Kayden. "I think it's a good deal. If you're willing to not let your past rule you, I'm willing to do the same with mine."

"Sounds like a plan." Danny held out his hand to Kayden. "We're good?"

"We're good," Kayden agreed. "Thanks for giving me this chance." She clasped Danny's hand.

"And me, too." Janet put her hand on top of theirs. "I've been hiding away from people for too long. I think it's time I stopped."

Taylor slapped her hand on top of Janet's. "Let our powers combine!" she proclaimed, raising her other hand up, fist clenched. All three adults looked at her in varying levels of surprise. "What, am I the only one who's watched Captain Planet?" she asked. "You were getting way too serious here, and I asked myself 'what would Annette do?'."

Her words broke the tension, and Kayden was overcome by a fit of giggles. Janet just looked bemused. Danny looked at Taylor and sighed. "Well, you certainly channelled Annette and her mom." He shook his head as Kayden dropped into the armchair, still giggling. "At least this team isn't going to be boring."

<><>​

Tuesday Afternoon
Tattletale

Strange things were happening in Brockton Bay. This wasn't odd in and of itself, given the city's standing population of parahumans, but in the last few days, things had gotten stranger than normal. Between being approached for recruitment by a middle-schooler, Kaiser being struck by lightning, and Hookwolf being literally blown to bits by Purity (or so Lisa's power told her), the 'weird-shit' quotient of life in Brockton Bay was way higher than normal. Worse, her power kept insisting that all three incidents were connected, but she didn't have enough data to fill in the gaps.

She was in the process of trawling through the tinfoil-hat sections of PHO in the hope that one of the lunatics on there might let slip something that was actually true when her phone rang. She picked it up; there was no name on her caller ID.

"Hello?" she asked cautiously, leaning back on the sofa.

"Hi. Can you speak freely?" It took her a moment to recognise the voice, then her power filled in the blanks.

It's the kid I met in the Market.

She's calling me about Coil.

She thinks she has a working plan to bring Coil down.

She's going to need me to give her information to do this.

She's got a major heavy-hitter on her side to do it with.

It's not just Purity.

She glanced around, trying to appear casual. Rachel was out, Alec was playing his computer game with headphones on, and Brian was off somewhere. She was reasonably sure her phone wasn't tapped at the moment. "I can," she replied cautiously. "How solid is your plan, and what do you need from me?"

The kid didn't miss a beat."Pretty solid. I just need some information. And a way of contacting the PRT so they can clean up the mess."

This call was becoming more and more surreal. "What information?" At that moment, her phone beeped, and she looked at it. Crap, it's Coil. "Hold on, I have another call." Her asshole boss got all kinds of testy if she failed to answer her calls in a timely fashion.

"Don't answer it. Coil wants you to come in, which will screw the whole plan up." The kid's voice was matter-of-fact. "Worse, you'll end up telling him about us."

"I wouldn't … would I?" Lisa had a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Is this your precog in action?"

"She spent a lot of time running the numbers over the last day or so," 'Management' confirmed. "Can you come meet us before he calls one of your teammates?"

Lisa gritted her teeth, fully aware that this was a tipping point for her. If she left the base right now, she was committing to Management's plan. Coil would quickly learn that she'd turned against him. Every previous effort she'd made to escape his grasp had fallen through. Did she dare try yet again?

The beeping continued.

<><>​

Boardwalk
Janet

"Coil's a precog for sure," Taylor decided. "There's no way he would've known to call Lisa like that." She gripped the rail and looked out to sea. "You doing okay?"

"Surviving." Janet concentrated on looking away from the ocean. The usual 'pull' wasn't there. It hadn't been for the last couple of days, ever since the thunderstorm and the death of Kaiser. She still didn't like being this close to a large body of water, but there was something different. Now she was aware of the actual presence of the water as it moved and surged. Even the tiny droplets in the air glittered in her mind's eye, as did the water within people. Before Kaiser, she wouldn't have been able to focus this clearly, because all of her concentration had been aimed at denying her power. Now that she'd used it in a major way, she was able to keep from using it in a major way. If she didn't know better, she would've described her power as being satisfied for the moment.

"Excellent." On Taylor's other side, Annette hung upside-down from the railing by her legs, supporting the rest of her weight on her hands. To Janet's relief, she was wearing cargo pants and a crop-top, both of which assisted in maintaining her modesty. "So what's Dinah's plan, again?"

"She doesn't have one, not really." Taylor turned around and leaned her back against the rail, rubbing it up and down, probably to scratch an itch. "She just knows that taking down Coil is going to require Janet and Kayden. Once we find out what we need to from Lisa, she can hopefully make a plan that works."

<><>​

Dinah

"You know I can hear you guys, right?" Dinah didn't look around, but she raised her voice just enough to be heard by Taylor and the other two, about twenty feet away from the bench she was sitting on. Her eyes never stopped scanning the passers-by on the Boardwalk. She was on the lookout for one particular person; with every second that passed, more and more unpleasant scenarios crowded through her mind.

Coil brought her in and she told him everything.

She went to Coil and told him everything.

She's going to show up with Coil's minions and act as bait to capture us.

She's not going to show.

He's precogged everything and is manipulating events from behind the scenes.

And then her eyes settled on a shock of messy blonde hair. Lisa was wearing sunglasses, but her eyes had to be darting all over the place, checking everything out. Dinah didn't blame the teenager for being cautious to the point of paranoia, especially after being forced to work for someone like Coil. She wondered what it would've been like for herself if she'd gotten a different power and ended up without the support base that Taylor and her dad offered. Probably not good.

"Here she comes," she warned them. "She'll probably know that you're with me, but don't do anything threatening. We want her cooperating willingly, not feeling like she has no choice."

"Got it," Taylor called back. Dinah didn't turn to look at them, because her attention was fixed on Lisa. If there was any nasty surprise in the offing, Janet would have to take care of it.

Lisa strolled up to the bench and sat down, as casually as if she'd done it every day. "I'm here." Tension vibrated in her voice, echoed in her posture. "What do you need from me, and why couldn't we have done this over the phone?"

"Because phones aren't secure enough for this sort of thing." Dinah looked pointedly at Lisa. "You've got yours turned off?"

"Pulled the card and dumped the handset in the trash, a hundred yards back," Lisa said. She tilted her head toward Taylor and the others. "Who're they?"

Dinah was almost certain that she hadn't made any motion that would've clued Lisa in on the others, but it apparently hadn't mattered. "Friends. Teammates. Here to keep this meeting honest." She turned her head properly and met Lisa's eyes. "So, the first bit of information I need. Director Piggot's direct office line."

Lisa's eyes opened wide and she let out a startled snort that turned into a chuckle. "Whew, you really don't play around, do you? What do you need … holy shit, you're going to call the PRT in to mop up Coil's guys once you're done with him? You're that certain this is going to work?"

Dinah let a grin expand across her face. "That depends on you, and how much you know about his base."

The answering grin on Lisa's face held a few more teeth. "Try me."

<><>​

Not Far From Coil's Base
Annette

Never in her wildest dreams had Annette Campbell thought that she might one day play any sort of role with a superhero team taking down a supervillain base. Of course, she also hadn't thought that her real dad might end up being a supervillain himself. That was comic-book thinking, and this was real life.

So yeah, her life was looking more and more like a comic book every day. Who was she to argue with that?

"Okay." Lisa pointed at the map that was spread over the hood of the car. Janet watched every motion of her finger carefully from one side, and Kayden from the other. "Main area of the base is right under … here. Exits are here and here, parking garage exit here, and Coil's escape tunnel is here." She looked at Kayden. "You'll probably be able to blast down to it but not collapse it. It was built using the same engineering as an Endbringer shelter."

Dinah perused the map carefully as well, her lips moving silently, then she looked up at Lisa. "Is he there right now?"

"She's right." Danny Hebert stood on the other side of the car hood, his arm around Annette's mom's waist. "If he gets away, he can start up again, and we'll never know until he comes after us."

"One way to find out. Once we do, we're on a timer." Lisa pulled a brand-new phone from her pocket. Annette had watched her put her old card in it, fascinated by how easy she made it look. "So be ready to roll."

Kayden nodded. Janet followed suit. Annette hefted her own phone.

Taking a deep breath, Lisa made the call. It was answered in short order. Even from a couple of yards away, Annette could hear the raised voice of someone whom she assumed to be Coil. "Hey, it's me," Lisa said. "I've been busy. What's up?" She paused, listening. "Right, right, right. I'll look into that straight away. Come in? Okay, gimme an hour. Okay, half an hour. Okay, see you as soon as I can." She shut the call down. "Okay, he's there. The echo patterns in that place are unique."

"Good." Dinah tapped the map. "That exit and that exit first. Then the escape tunnel. But first …" She nodded to Annette. "Make the call."

Annette grinned. "Oh, boy." She pressed the speed-dial on the phone.

It rang exactly twice, then was picked up on the other end. "Who is this?" asked a suspicious voice. "How did you get this number?"

"Director Piggot, hi," Annette said chattily. "I'm calling on behalf of the Girl Scouts. I'd be selling you cookies but we're all out, so I was thinking as a consolation prize we'd offer you one somewhat waterlogged supervillain. If you're interested, you can come and pick up Coil. Bring some friends, because it might get a little busy. I'll just email you the address, k-thanks-bye."

Hanging up the call, she switched to email and hit Send on the pre-prepared message, then looked up at the circle of faces looking at her. "What?"

"That was not exactly what we told you to say," Danny remarked. "In fact, that's entirely unlike what we told you to say."

"Bet it gets her out here even faster, though," Andrea said with a smirk.

"My power told me to nominate Annette for the job of notifying the Director," Dinah reminded Danny. "She did it the way she felt like doing it. I'm not going to second-guess her." She nodded to Kayden. "You're up."

The ex-Empire cape smiled grimly. "Time to cause some property damage." A glow built up around her body and she shot into the air. Within seconds, she was out of sight over the rooftops. But not out of earshot; it didn't take long before they they heard the not-so-distant sounds of her blast tearing into concrete and earth.

"Is it just me," Taylor observed, "or does she really enjoy her work?"

Andrea shook her head. "Nope. It isn't just you, hon."

It didn't take long for Kayden to finish her attack run. Lisa leaned into the car and turned up the radio scanner. It was no coincidence that the scanner was set to the PRT alert frequency. "The good guys are incoming," she pointed out, over the crackle of messages coming through. "I think it's time for Stage Three."

"Stage Three it is," Dinah decided. She turned to Janet. "You know where the base is?"

Janet nodded. "I can feel the people in it."

"And there's water nearby?"

"Yeah. Lots of it."

"You can make the water go where you want?"

"Easily."

"Good." Dinah grinned. "Go ahead. Fill her up."

Janet grinned back. Annette got the impression this was the first time the blonde had smiled in some time. "You got it."



End of Chapter Thirteen

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Fourteen: Turning the Tide


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


Water.

It is a substance rife with paradoxes.

A lack of it will kill within a week, while too much of it will kill in minutes.

Its life-giving properties (for both hygiene and imbibing) are well-known, and indeed it is the most abundant compound on the surface of Earth Bet (and in the universe at large). Yet, while the oceans support an unimaginable spectrum of life, that very water is unpalatable to humans until the salt and other impurities are filtered out of it.

On oceans and rivers and lakes, it supports watercraft of all types, ranging from the strictly business to the entirely frivolous; despite the more-than-trivial number of drownings per year, people swim and disport themselves in water wherever they find it.

Water is piped into cities and sprayed over farmlands, to allow life to flourish where it would normally wither. People dam off rivers so that it will collect there, to be used when they need it. Sometimes, they even make their dwellings downstream from the dam itself to make use of the water pressure thus garnered, despite knowing that if (when) water breaks free of its bonds (and its banks) it is a cruel monster with mercy for neither man nor beast.

Another oddity of water is that, despite being both transparent to light and entirely fluid, it is tremendously resistant to being compressed. This leads to the 'water hammer' phenomenon, which can be either extremely useful or extremely inconvenient, depending on the situation.

Once in a while, depending on perspective, it can be both at the same time.

<><>​

Coil

On the occasions that Thomas Calvert deliberately collapsed a timeline and opened a new one, he preferred to be in his base, on the principle that it was the safest place in Brockton Bay to do so. Everyone who could reach him here was by definition loyal to him; he paid their quite generous salaries to ensure this state of affairs. After he split the timeline, one instance of him would usually leave the base and go home to enjoy a good night's sleep, while the other would stay back and pull an all-nighter, gathering information from all over and seeing what there was to be seen.

On this particular instance, he intended to stay in for a while and do some information-gathering from his Tattletale. She liked to tweak him as much as she could get away with, and sometimes he enjoyed reeling her in and finding out what she really knew; a process that occasionally involved testing to destruction. Not that she was ever really aware that this was going on; throwaway timelines were useful like that.

To this end, he had already contacted her to come in. In one reality, they would sit and talk like employer and employee; she would update him on team needs and he would make any necessary arrangements. In the other, the questioning would be somewhat more stringent. Torture on its own was less useful for gaining crucial information than commonly supposed, but it was an invaluable resource when the subject could also be questioned without torture, and the answers compared in real time.

And besides, it was fun.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd coerced answers from her without her knowledge, and it certainly would not be the last. One day, he supposed, he would wring one final fact from her then dispose of her, not bothering to keep a timeline in which she would have survived unscathed. But that would be sometime in the future, once she had ceased to be useful to him. Not today, my Tattletale.

Frowning at the clock on his computer, he picked up his phone to call her yet again. The guards had not yet reported her entry into the base, and she should have arrived by now. If she was just tweaking him by dawdling, he would make the torture session extra painful and more drawn-out than usual. Not that this would teach the surviving version of her any kind of lesson, but it would make him feel better.

Just as his finger touched the button to call up her number, a tremendous crash and rumble shook the entire base. He was thrown from his chair by the shock-wave; his phone, dislodged from his hand, skittered across the floor and ended up in the corner. Looking around dazedly, he saw that the back corner of the room had collapsed entirely, throwing up a cloud of concrete dust.

"What in the name of …?" Old reflexes came to the fore, and he was on his feet with his pistol in his hand before he knew it. Earthquake? He very much doubted it; before he'd ever broken ground for his base, he'd checked the tectonic stability of the area. Besides, Endbringer shelters (which his base effectively was) were rated to handle up to a certain magnitude on the Richter scale. Behemoth had seen to that.

He got two steps toward the door to his office when another shockwave hammered through the base. This one was less intense, or perhaps a little farther away. He managed to avoid landing on his ass by the expedient of grabbing on to his desk, but it was a near thing. As it was, there was nothing hanging on his walls anymore; it had all ended up on the floor, including his computer monitor and a few more chunks of concrete.

The door to his office juddered open and he looked out into the main area. Alarms were screeching stridently, with red and yellow flashing lights everywhere. Here and there, he saw his men picking themselves up off the floor; the more alert of them were already checking their weapons and looking around for potential attackers. More concrete dust was in the air out here. Looking up, he saw new cracks radiating across the roof. Nothing serious, not yet. But if this were an Endbringer shelter, he'd be decommissioning it for assessment and repair.

He'd paused in the doorway for a reason; one shockwave had been a very nasty surprise and two even less pleasant. But with the second tremor, the chance of a third had become much more likely, and so he was braced when it actually came.

What it was about, he could only make the vaguest of guesses as he rode out the unpleasant sensation. The Endbringer sirens had not gone off, so it wasn't Behemoth seeking to bring the place down around his ears. But capes were almost certainly involved. The only one of the required power level in Brockton Bay was Purity, but why she'd be blasting the ground around his base, he had no idea.

Oh, crap. His eyes opened wide behind his mask as a disquieting thought occurred to him. The only cape in the city with the potential to take on Purity one-on-one was Lung; if they were engaged in a cape battle directly above his base, this could be very bad indeed. Both from the potential damage to the base itself, and the possibility of discovery by the authorities after the fact.

Thinking of Purity, something else occurred to him. Scuttlebutt had it that the Empire cape had been hospitalised after Kaiser's death; or at least, a woman suspected to be Purity had been stabbed by Max Anders, posthumously identified as Kaiser, and had ended up in Brockton Bay General. The word was that the PRT were making overtures to her, with a view toward potential recruitment and rebranding. How that was going, he wasn't certain; it wasn't something he was officially read in on. And it certainly didn't explain why the flying blaster was currently wrecking the landscape around his base. Maybe I should've tried recruiting her instead.

Putting the matter out of his mind, he stepped out on to the catwalk, grasping the rail tightly in case another quake came through. The alarms ceased shrieking, but the red and yellow lights continued to flash. "Guards to the entrances!" he shouted. "Damage reports! I want to know what happened, and I want to know yesterday!"

As he'd expected, the voice of command steadied his men; with defined duties to carry out, they headed off in various directions. Looking around, he could see that one length of catwalk had collapsed altogether. Fortunately, it didn't seem that anyone had been on it at the time.

Yet another rumble passed through the base; his grip tightened convulsively on the catwalk rail, but it didn't seem anywhere near as severe as the first three. In fact, even the sound of it was different, as was the feel. It was more like a jackhammer than a series of explosions. And it felt like it was coming up from below, rather than down from above.

A different alarm began to shrill. This was one he knew about, because he'd overseen its installation. Flooding alarm; an unfortunate necessity in a port city where the entire base was below the water table, and where Leviathan could not be ruled out from visiting. Fortunately, he'd also overseen the installation of a series of high-powered pumps that could be relied upon to shift a large amount of water from inside the base to outside the base in a very short time.

In another moment, he felt rather than heard the bone-deep reverberation as all ten pumps kicked in. Why the base was flooding—or rather, had been flooding—he wasn't at all certain. Yes, Purity was insanely powerful. But the idea that her blast had tunneled all the way down to the lower parts of the base and then breached the concrete was ridiculous. Not to mention that there was somehow enough water coming in to activate all ten pumps. The only place where there was enough water to do that was a high-pressure main, and he'd made certain to keep a certain distance away from the nearest one when laying out the construction of the base. The last thing he'd wanted to do was draw attention by interrupting city services.

Turning, he went back into his office and rescued his monitor. There was a crack across the screen now, but it seemed to be functional for the most part. It was a good thing Tattletale was coming in; he had questions for her.

<><>​

Danny

"Hm." Janet didn't say more than that; with her hand (and stump) in her jacket pockets, she seemed to be doing nothing more than staring into the middle distance.

"What's up?" Lisa didn't even try to shift the smirk she'd been wearing since Dinah gave the order. As Kayden landed beside them and turned her glow off, she gave the mousy-haired woman a high-five.

"I set up a resonance in the nearest high-pressure water main to burst out of the pipe and tunnel through the intervening rock and earth, using water hammer," Janet explained almost pedantically. "I even managed to break through into the base without much trouble. But it appears Coil is nobody's fool."

Lisa nodded sympathetically. "Let me guess. Pumps?"

"Pumps." Janet frowned. "Strong ones. I'm having trouble putting more water into the base than they're pumping out. Even with the water main."

"Don't try." For a moment, Danny wondered who'd spoken, then he realised it was himself. "You'll just wear yourself out." He looked to Dinah. "Ideas?"

Dinah grinned. "Just one."

<><>​

Coil

Calvert had barely settled down into the routine of checking damage reports when the flooding alarm went off again. With an irritated frown, he called up the pump status feed. If any of them had gone into default mode, he could start them up again.

But what he found was much more concerning. One pump had failed utterly, and from the fluctuations coming from the second one, it was on the way out as well. This was extremely problematic; he'd accounted for the possibility of pump failure, but never two at once, especially with this kind of flooding crisis. As he watched, the second pump's flow rate dropped to zero, and the green status light flipped to red.

And then a third pump started having difficulties.

<><>​

Taylor

"You can jam pumps with your water control?" Taylor shook her head. "That's just bullshit."

"I would've said the same thing, except that I'm actually doing it." Janet's distant expression had been replaced by bemusement. "Ever since I got my powers, I've been terrified of using them. Terrified of water in general. This—since I got to Brockton Bay—is the first time I've ever deliberately used them." She smiled tightly. "Four down, six to go."

"Coil's gonna be figuring out this whole thing's been an attack on his base any time now," Lisa observed. Right on cue, her phone rang. Hitting the button, she answered it. "Hey, boss," she said cheerfully. "Yeah, I'm nearby. No, I can see there's been some sort of attack. I can see the craters. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's Purity. I'm looking right at her." Grinning broadly, she gave Kayden a fingertip wave. The woman rolled her eyes and waved back. Taylor had to put her own hand over her mouth to prevent a giggle from escaping.

The ex-Undersider stopped speaking then, except to give brief noises of acknowledgement. Coil seemed to be quite upset about something; Taylor didn't have to be either Dinah or Lisa to figure out exactly what that was. Given Lisa's commentary about the man, she couldn't bring herself to feel much sympathy for him either.

"Yeah, sure, right, boss." Lisa seemed to be turning red in the face for some reason. "I'll see you soon. Right. Yeah. See you soon." She hit the button to end the call. "Enjoy your swim, you son of a bitch." Then she collapsed on her ass, howling with laughter. Both Andrea and Annette seemed to share her sense of humour, because they were laughing just as hard; Andrea leaning on Danny for support, and Annette on Taylor.

Trying hard not to let the giggles overtake her, Taylor looked around as the first sirens became audible.

<><>​

Armsmaster

Colin led the convoy of PRT vehicles toward the location they'd been given. It seemed to coincide with the epicentre of a series of explosions that had been reported in the area; dust was still rising in the air. Several buildings had been demolished and a parking garage utterly trashed, following no pattern he could see. How the chirpy message was related to this, he couldn't be sure, but the chance to bring in Coil was too good to ignore.

"Keep an eye out for threats," he said over his helmet microphone. "We can't assume that whoever did this damage is out of the area yet." Or that they're friendly, he added silently. This could yet be an elaborate trap for whoever responded to the call. If it was, they'd soon find they had bitten off more than they could chew.

"Copy." That was the officer in charge of the detachment, a man called Prendergast. Colin listened to the man rattling off orders as he stopped his bike and climbed off. The fence around the construction site was tall and sturdy-looking, but there was a gate, chained shut. A swipe of his halberd dealt with that, then he pushed open the gate and strode in.

Right where the email had indicated was an innocuous-looking hatch, set into a concrete seating and marked 'Drainage'. Logically enough, it was locked. He looked up and around at the unfinished high-rise building towering over him, checking to ensure the ground shocks hadn't destabilised the structure. While he wasn't an expert on the matter in the way that someone like the Chicago Wards leader Tecton would be, it all seemed to be holding together for the moment.

Prendergast moved up beside him as his men deployed. "So what do you think?"

Colin gestured toward the hatch. "I think if they're coming out, they're coming that way." But that was already blatantly obvious. "Though I'm curious about the 'waterlogged' aspect. If it's correct, how does the tipster know that there's water involved? And how is it involved? There are unanswered questions here."

"True, but if the tip's on the level, I don't care if they used Thinker powers, consulted a ouija board or got a personal text from God." Prendergast chuckled briefly. "I'm happy to field obscure messages all day long if we get results out of it."

He had a point, though Colin preferred things to be more cut and dried than that. There was also the question as to where Purity had gotten herself to; just as with Hookwolf's demise, the damage patterns in the local area were very familiar-looking. If there'd been a cape battle, who had Purity been fighting? Certainly not Lung; nothing was on fire. Were there members of the Empire Eighty-Eight lying in the rubble? Had the entire mention of Coil been a red herring to get them out here and capture Purity's victims? It didn't make sense; he would've come out for that, just as readily.

He forced himself to step back from the situation and look at it from the outside. An anonymous tip had been called in by what sounded like a teenage girl. The only teenage girl he knew of whom Purity would have been associated with was Rune. Had she made the call? There were too many variables there. He shook his head and moved on. Either just before or just after the call, Purity had attacked random buildings, then disappeared again. Were the two incidents connected?

Wait a moment …. He contacted his bike and had it send up a small drone, then called up an overlay map of the area. Once the drone was at sufficient altitude, he marked his own position, then used the visual feed to fill in the positions of the damaged buildings. The four marks formed a rough oblong shape, as if surrounding something.

She was cutting off escape routes. The conclusion was as inevitable as it was unexpected. And what's the best way of driving someone out of a no doubt heavily fortified underground base? You flush them out, with water. Water didn't care about bullets, or Brute strength. He didn't know how Purity had arranged for Coil's theoretical underground base to fill with water, but he would've bet his halberd he was right.

"Someone's coming up!" It was a soldier, crouching over the hatch, holding one of his sonophones to the metal. Something he'd come up with in a casual moment, they had proven useful in picking up the sound of people walking over hard surfaces.

"Positions." Prendergast spoke the order instead of barking it, but his men snapped to action all the same. Some crouched with rifles at the ready, others held containment foam sprayers, and three prepared grenades to be tossed if necessary. Colin recognised the munitions as flashbangs, which would be devastating to the senses if used in a confined space such as an escape tunnel.

The lock clicked, and the hatch began to raise.

<><>​

Coil

Calvert swore profusely and bitterly as three things impressed themselves upon him with ever-increasing clarity.

The first was that the pumps were somehow being sabotaged. One after another, they had failed, burning out their motors despite there being no good reason for this to happen. The water in his base was rising at a horrifically impressive rate. He had a backup base, but it was in no way as prepared as this one. Most of his supplies were still crated up, some of the crates beginning to float around on the lower levels. This was going to be a tremendous setback in both resources and planning. If he even got out, which wasn't necessarily a given; it wasn't as simple as that.

Because the second thing was that Tattletale had betrayed him. It was becoming more and more obvious that she had no intention of showing up to be questioned and/or tortured. Whether or not she was simply taking advantage of the situation or whether she was complicit in the attack had yet to be determined.

This was the third conclusion he had reluctantly reached. He—his base—was under attack. Purity's blasting run had neither been at random, nor was it part of a cape battle. The shockwaves had been the result of two of the main exits of the base being collapsed. The entrance to his escape tunnel had been in the corner of his office that had collapsed in the first attack. This was the tunnel that nobody was supposed to know about. Even the men who'd installed it without ever knowing what it was about had been disposed of in subtle and 'accidental' ways.

Only one exit had been left clear. With the rising water mere inches below the upper level catwalk, their options were rapidly vanishing. The trouble was, every instinct he had was screaming at him that this was a trap; if your enemy leaves you one safe way out, it's not a safe way out. Someone was waiting out there for his men; whether it was Purity, some other group or even the Protectorate, his men would be in a supremely vulnerable position as they emerged one at a time.

The one good thing was that this exit was being left to them. If the unnamed enemy wanted them dead, it would've been all too easy to close off the last exit and leave them to die as the water inexorably rose and they used the last of their trapped air pockets. Getting out alive meant capture and unmasking was a near-inevitability.

Of course, he had a backup plan. It hadn't been formulated with something as dire as this in mind, but when his back was to the wall, he had to use every available resource. In this instance, the resource was a man called Hocking. Hocking was unremarkable in every way; not overly bright, physically unimpressive, and possessed of a distinct overbite. But he was over six feet tall and almost as skinny as Calvert himself. On the occasions Calvert had required a body double, Hocking had been invaluable, which was why he'd already transmitted the order for the man to report to his office.

Water was just starting to swill gently over the floor of his office when Hocking showed up at his doorway. "You wanted me, sir?"

"I did. Come on in, Hocking." Calvert hit the control to close the door, then held out Hocking's copy of the costume he was wearing. This one had been made to the man's measurements; Calvert certainly wasn't going to be wearing something that someone else had sweated into and breathed through. "You know how I've always rewarded you heavily for standing in for me? This will be your command performance." Turning back to his computer—fortunately, none of the electrical connections were at floor level—he typed in a command, transferring two hundred thousand dollars to Hocking's personal account.

Hocking's eyes widened. "Sir, yes, sir!" he blurted. His boots splashing in the steadily-deepening water, he pulled off his balaclava and began to strip out of his uniform.

Calvert did the same with his own costume; this was no time for modesty. They swapped out clothing, Calvert donning the mercenary's gear with the ease of long practice. Hocking was less sure with the costume, taking several attempts to get it to zip up. This was somewhat hampered by the fact that the water was nearly ankle-deep by the time he got it right. As the zipper travelled down the seam, with Hocking concentrating on not jamming it, Calvert wandered around behind him, to where the rubble lay on the floor. Picking up a double-fist sized chunk, he waited until Hocking had tucked the tab away next to his ankle, then struck.

Hocking never saw it coming. The concrete had a hard edge, which made a meaty chunk sound as it contacted his temple; the man collapsed bonelessly into the rising water. Calvert dropped the concrete at his feet and turned Hocking face-down into the water. There were a few brief struggles as the semi-conscious man tried to avoid his fate, but then he went limp. Calvert checked for a pulse; there was none.

Turning back to the computer, he reversed the transaction—Hocking had been too dazzled by the number of zeroes to realise that he hadn't actually hit the final command to carry it through—then pulled up another screen altogether. This one connected to the base self-destruct mechanism. He told it to mute all warnings and alarms, and blow in fifteen minutes. Then he pressed the hard-shutdown button. Even if his computer survived the upcoming flooding event—which was unlikely—nobody who got to it could reverse the countdown, or would even know it was happening.

Slinging Hocking's rifle over his shoulder, he hit the control to open the door, then dragged Hocking out, carefully keeping his head above water this time. "Help!" he called out in his best imitation of Hocking's drawl. "Boss hit his head! Help!"

Mercenaries came running, two of the beefier ones taking over the burden of Hocking's body. One of them—Brooks—asked, "What happened?"

"Boss called me in ta gimme orders," Calvert said. "Bit o' concrete fell outta th' ceilin' an' beaned him. Figure we need ta git him ta medical help."

"Right." Brooks looked in through the door to Calvert's office and saw the pile of rubble. "Shit. Okay. We can't treat him here. Only one way out. If we can fight our way out, we do, otherwise we just surrender, okay? We're no good to the boss dead."

"Hell, we're no good to us dead," quipped the other mercenary, a South African called Holt. "Best we get outta here first, figure out what happens next after that, yeah?"

Calvert nodded. "Sounds good to me."

As Brooks and Holt sloshed off along the walkway—the water was well past ankle-deep now, with crates floating in the middle of the open area—he fell into line behind them. He'd done his best to make certain that nobody knew of Hocking's secondary role in the mercenary group, so nobody would be able to betray him, even by accident.

"Everyone, keep your rifles dry." Brooks seemed to be falling naturally into the leadership role. Calvert made a mental note to watch the man in future, if they both survived the situation. "They'll fire wet, but the lasers will have problems with water."

Under the balaclava, Calvert grimaced. It was really something he should've considered, but an attack on the base combining above-ground bombardment and underground flooding hadn't featured in the situations he'd anticipated. As it was, the lasers worked well even in humid conditions but if they actually got wet, they shorted out very rapidly indeed. With this in mind, as the water climbed toward his waist, he unslung his rifle and held it over his head. Several of the mercenaries around him mimicked the action.

<><>​

Taylor

"Lisa …" Janet was frowning again. "What does it mean when henchmen hold their hands up like this, when there's no enemies in sight?" She lifted her arms so that her good hand was above her head, with her elbows slightly bent.

"Weapons." Lisa's voice was firm. "Definitely weapons. They want to keep them dry."

Danny raised his eyebrows. "Wait, you can tell the posture of a person from this distance? Underground?"

"It's not as easy as it sounds, but when a lot of them are doing the same thing, it gets my attention." Janet chewed her lip. "Weapons, huh?"

Leaning against the hood of the car, Taylor steadied the small tray her father had made, and rolled a couple of dice. "That's interesting," she murmured. She rolled again, and the numbers unfolded in her head. "Really interesting."

"If you say 'interesting' one more time without explaining, I am going to punch you," Lisa said, mock-severely. "I'm supposed to be the one who makes obscure comments without including context. Get your own schtick."

Taylor smirked and gathered her dice up. "No, you won't. I don't even need to roll to figure that one out. Okay, guys? I just asked the dice if this will blow up in our faces if we walk away now. Seventy-three percent chance of that happening. Second roll was for the chance of Coil getting away even now. Seventy-eight percent."

"Oh, really." Janet put her hand—and stump—back in her pockets. "Let's see about that, then. If they want their weapons to stay dry, they're shit out of luck."

Lisa turned to Danny. "Can we get closer? I need eyes on the situation. Whatever Coil's planning, if I can't see it, I can't screw him over."

"That way." Dinah pointed. "And we're going to need the binoculars you keep in the trunk."

Danny blinked. "I'd totally forgotten about the binoculars. How did you know I had a pair?"

Dinah considered that, then shrugged. "My power told me your job was to supply Lisa with the binoculars she needs to carry out her job of surveilling Coil?"

"Total bullshit," muttered Lisa as she climbed into the back of Danny's car. "Other Thinkers suck."

"I guess you're used to being the smartest person in the room," observed Taylor as she got in as well. Dinah and Annette got into the back of Andrea's car, while Janet got in the front. Kayden climbed into the front of Danny's car. Personally, she thought Lisa was overreacting. "I'm just glad you're working with us on this one. I mean, would you rather Coil got away, to soothe your pride?"

Lisa stuck out her tongue at Taylor. Taylor giggled.

<><>​

Coil

Calvert currently had two timelines running; one where he was toward the back of the pack, and one where he was up near the front. In neither one was he actually helping carry the costumed body of their supposed leader; the last thing he wanted was for someone to see them next to each other and come to the right conclusion.

Neither placement helped very much when the next unexpected event occurred. Startled yells were all the warning anyone got, before a massive surge of water came along the tunnel from the base. He tried desperately to hold his rifle out of the inundation but it reached clear to the roof, drenching everyone in the tunnel as well as everything they were holding. And then he felt the push from behind. It wasn't just a wave, it was a current. A second later, he revised that estimate upward; it was a torrent. Lifted off the floor and spun around, he lost his grip altogether on the rifle, not to mention any idea of where up and down were.

Fuck. I'm going to drown in my own base.

<><>​

Armsmaster

The hatch clicked and began to rise. Every man took a pace forward, aiming their rifles and readying their other munitions. And then there was a sound from below, somewhere between a rumbling and a whooshing. The hatch flipped up and back to the accompaniment of startled yells from inside the tunnel. Colin had just enough time to register that it had been forced upward by a blast of high-pressure air … then the water arrived.

Erupting straight up in a square pillar shaped by the hatchway itself, the water formed a fountain ten feet high. He was drenched in a heartbeat, along with every soldier there, as men shot up out of the hatch one after the other, flailing wildly. They rained to the ground—along with the rain of water, of course—within the perimeter of soldiers, almost as if they'd been carefully placed there.

And then it was over. The vast majority of the water drained back into the hatch, though he could've sworn some of it had to run uphill to do so. Not all of it went, of course. The PRT soldiers' uniforms were still soaked, and there were droplets on his visor, but the tons of water that had gushed up out of the hatch were simply not present anymore. He decided to worry about it later. The involuntary exit had apparently knocked the fight out of Coil's men, but they would recover.

His main goal was to lay hands on Coil himself, and he smiled grimly to himself when he saw the costumed figure lying among the other men. "Secure them!" he called out, and headed for Coil himself. It was only when he got close that he realised Coil wasn't moving, and that there was red staining a white section of the part of his mask covering his head. Leaning down, he placed his hand on the skinny man's neck. Sensors in his gauntlet told the story; there was no heartbeat, no respiration.

Coil was dead. This wasn't a capture, with the kudos that would come along with it. It was just a matter of bagging and tagging a corpse. He grimaced, knowing that Piggot would be far less impressed with a dead supervillain than a live one.

"What happened here?" He grabbed the nearest one of Coil's men, and pointed at the deceased villain. "How did he die?"

"Rubble hit him on the head," the man mumbled dazedly. Pulling off his balaclava, he turned away and threw up water.

Colin's lips thinned. It looked like all of the other men had survived, though some were probably suffering from broken arms or legs. A clean sweep, marred only by Coil's death.

Which brought him back to the original query. Who did this? An outside agency had planned this entire situation, from the bombardment (Purity) to the phone call to Piggot (an unnamed teenage girl) to someone emulating Leviathan to drive Coil and his henchmen from their base. Their motives were probably pure but their actions had resulted in the death of Coil, a man who hadn't even earned a Birdcage sentence yet, much less a kill order. Even accidental, that made this death into a case of manslaughter, or perhaps negligent homicide.

That's the last thing we need in Brockton Bay. Another bunch of loose cannons.

A flash of light some distance away caught his attention, but when he looked there was nothing there. When it didn't recur, he sent the drone in that direction and went back to what he'd been doing.

<><>​

Tattletale

Kneeling on the roof of the building with her elbows resting on the parapet, Lisa steadied the binoculars. Behind her, she knew Kayden was trying to see what was happening as well, but they only had the one pair of binoculars.

She watched as they took the mercenaries into custody, disarming them and zip-tying their hands behind their backs. Coil himself lay unattended, arms and legs askew in a manner that would've been highly uncomfortable if he was still alive. But he was dead now, and with him went the most direct threat to Lisa's life.

The drone was the next thing she spotted; it was headed in their direction, and would get there in another couple of minutes. This, she knew, could be problematic for everyone, so she prepared to wrap up and get out of there. But as she performed her last sweep, something made her narrow her eyes and tighten her lips.

Tall mercenary next to Brooks, walk is familiar. Trying to disguise it, glancing up at the building under construction. Planning to make a run for it.

Walk is what Coil's would be if he was wearing armour and had his arms fastened behind his back. Scared of building collapsing on him.

Is Coil. Switched costumes with another mercenary. Murdered his body double to fake his death. Knows building will collapse. Arranged for building to collapse. Explosives. Explosives in base. Base is going to self-destruct. Intends to escape in the confusion.

"Shit," she muttered. "Shit, shit, shit." She scrabbled for her phone.

"What?" Kayden leaned down beside her. "Tattletale, what?"

Lisa paused, then eyed the unassuming-looking woman. "How precise can you be? With your blasts, I mean?"

"They tend to spread out, but I can usually keep them on track." Kayden frowned. "Why?"

Lisa grinned a tight grin, and told her why. Then she made a phone call.

<><>​

Coil

Calvert knew his internal countdown wasn't perfect, but it had to be getting close to time. While he'd been disarmed and zip-tied, he had ways and means of getting out of zip-ties. He didn't know which way the half-built construction would fall, but his power would help avoid that as well. And while all that was happening, if one of the mercenaries happened to slip away, would they try all that hard to find him?

For the fifteenth time since he'd been spat out of his base, he split time and made a run for it. This time, he was clotheslined by a soldier who stepped out from behind one of the vans and held out his arm. He dropped that timeline and split off another one.

"You." A hand fell on his shoulder. Gauntleted; Armsmaster's. "Come here."

Again, he made a bolt for it. Taser wires spiked into his back and he fell over, twitching uncontrollably.

In the other timeline, he nodded. "Uh, okay?" He stumbled a few steps in compliance, trying to slouch so that his height wasn't so immediately apparent. "What do you want? I can tell you all about what Coil did, stuff like that. Easy-peasy." While he was speaking, he refreshed his timeline.

Armsmaster seemed to be staring at him as if he were aware of the repeated attempts to escape. Then he reached out and yanked the balaclava off.

In one timeline, Calvert shoulder-charged Armsmaster in an attempt to push him off balance, while in the other he turned away, ducking his head to shield his face.

He was foamed before he made it two steps. As with all the other timelines where he'd been irrevocably captured, he started fresh. In the timeline where he'd tried to hide his face, Armsmaster gripped his shoulder again, servo-assisted fingers digging into his flesh. The hero's other hand forced Calvert's head up and around. There was a long moment, then Armsmaster's lips thinned. "Commander Thomas Calvert, I'm arresting you on suspicion of—"

That was the moment when the self-destruct went off. The ground rumbled and shook and water blasted up out of the hatchway again, this time in a column that reached over a hundred feet in the air. Fissures and cracks opened up here and there, more water fountaining up out of them.

Above them, ominous groans and creaks heralded the oncoming danger. Calvert looked up involuntarily, to see the half-constructed building beginning to sway back and forth in a most alarming fashion. "Run!" he yelled, entirely genuine fear in his voice. "It's coming down!"

Before Armsmaster could react, a brilliant-white streak came boring in from nowhere. Spiralling curls of energy lashed out from Purity's hands, striking the top of the building and smashing it backwards, away from the PRT contingent. She slowed to a halt and continued her assault, working her beam down the imperilled construction. With each floor that was shattered and blasted away, the swaying from the remainder became less and less pronounced.

When the last of the building collapsed, it did so more or less straight down, with barely any rubble making it to the freshly-drenched PRT soldiers. Purity hovered for a moment, as if looking over her handiwork, then turned and accelerated away. As she did so, the remains of some sort of drone fell to the ground nearby.

Despite being knocked around a little by the impromptu fountain, the PRT soldiers were still well in charge of the situation. Worst of all, Armsmaster had maintained his grip on Calvert's shoulder. If his fingers dug in any deeper, Calvert suspected that his shoulder joint would begin to separate. And while he'd kept in training with his CQC, he knew that fighting an armoured opponent (especially one as competent as Armsmaster) was a losing proposition.

"As I was saying," Armsmaster stated. "Commander Thomas Calvert, you are under arrest for suspicion of carrying out criminal acts, and inciting criminal acts, under the guise of the supervillain Coil while serving as an officer of the Parahuman Response Teams. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be taken down …"

Calvert grimaced as Armsmaster droned on and on. He barely reacted as the armoured hero fitted heavy Tinkertech cuffs on him to replace the zip-ties. They knew who he was, and they had him in custody. However, there was one faint ray of light. With the destruction of his base, there was no direct evidence to link him to being Coil. All he had to do was deny it and admit to a lesser charge.

One niggling question still bothered him, though.

How did he even know?

<><>​

Director Emily Piggot

A Few Minutes Earlier

Watching the ongoing bust through Armsmaster's helmet-cam wasn't quite as satisfying as being there, but it was nearly as good. She watched the mercenaries being disarmed, secured and herded together. And then her phone rang. Looking at it, she frowned as the unknown number popped up again.

"Hello?" she said cautiously.

"Yeah, hi." It was another teenage girl. "Enjoying the show?" This one sounded altogether too cheeky for her own good. Somehow, she knew Emily was watching the bust, but that wasn't the important part.

"You got Coil killed." Emily's tone was flat. "That was careless of you." The subtext was clear; whoever this new team was (because she had no doubt it was a new team) they would have some yardage to make up before the PRT gave them any sort of trust.

"So sure of that, are you?" She could hear the smirk in the voice. "That's not Coil. That's his body double. Coil swapped out with him, then murdered him so he could get away in the confusion."

"Really." Emily was still dubious, but she was listening. "So which one's the real Coil?" It was worth a try, anyway.

"Near the van. The tall one who just looked up at the building. You'll note that he's the same body type as the dead guy. Also—"

Emily dropped the phone and grabbed up her radio microphone. "Armsmaster, I've just gotten new information. Coil may not be dead."

He sounded surprised, even affronted. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but he is. Negative life signs. My sensors—"

"There's a strong chance that's not Coil. The one to your right, the tall one. I've just been informed that he's really Coil. The other one's supposedly a body double."

"On it." His voice, previously resigned, went up several notches in energy. He strode over to the tall mercenary. "You." His voice sounded over the radio link as he slapped one gauntleted hand on the man's shoulder. "Come here."

"Uh, okay?" The mercenary stumbled a few steps toward Armsmaster. "What do you want? I can tell you all about what Coil did, stuff like that. Easy-peasy."

Emily gripped the radio mic. On her desk, the phone rang but she ignored it. The mercenary's voice sounded familiar. Where have I heard that voice before? "Take his balaclava off. I want to see his face."

It only took a second or so for Armsmaster to respond to the order. His free hand came up and pulled the waterlogged balaclava from the man's head. Almost immediately, the guy twisted away, trying to hide his face. Armsmaster didn't need an order to force his head around to where Emily could see his features.

"Son of a bitch. That's Thomas fucking Calvert." Immediately, she started running the numbers in her head.

If he's really Coil, this explains so much.

What if he's not? What if he's just a peon?

She shook her head. That wasn't the Thomas Calvert she knew and disliked. Calvert hated being ordered around by others. He'd shot his own captain in the mess at Ellisburg, all those years ago. She would personally bet a year's salary that even if he hadn't started out as Coil, he would've murdered the man and taken over.

"Commander Thomas Calvert," Armsmaster pronounced. "I'm arresting you on suspicion of—"

A loud rumble cut through the sound, and the view shook. Water suddenly poured down over everything, then Coil's voice cut through the confusion. "Run! It's coming down!"

Armsmaster's helmet tilted upward, and Emily saw that the partially-constructed building that had overshadowed the bust was swaying like a tree in a high wind. Creaks and groans were audible over her speakers. Oh, shit. There was a self-destruct. And then the bright light burst on the scene.

"Fuck," muttered Emily. "Purity." As if things hadn't been bad enough before.

And then, as if the universe was conspiring with itself to fuck with her, she watched incredulously as the flying blaster blew the building away, floor by floor, until it no longer threatened the PRT troopers and Armsmaster. Shaking her head, she stared as the glowing cape flew away again. "Bullshit," she said out loud. "Utter bullshit." It wasn't Purity's demonstrated power level she was objecting to; that had already been adequately calculated. It was the fact that she'd saved PRT troops.

Armsmaster's attention turned back to Calvert. "As I was saying. Commander Thomas Calvert, you are under arrest for suspicion of carrying out criminal acts, and inciting criminal acts, under the guise of the supervillain Coil while serving as an officer of the Parahuman Response Teams. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be taken down …"

Emily was absolutely certain that the mysterious tipster was indeed correct, but there were problems still to be surmounted.

The courts are going to need more than my assessment of the man. They're going to need more than a gut feeling. And I suspect he's going to go for a plea deal, claim to have been infiltrating the gangs or some other bullshit ploy. I need to be able to nail him to the wall.

And then she smiled. It was not a nice smile. As a strike squad commander, he had an office in the PRT building. In that office, he had a computer. He might have high security on that computer, but I have two Tinkers to call on. More, if necessary. And nothing that ever goes on the internet goes away. Calvert, prepare to have every secret of your life laid bare.

"Stick with him every minute of the way," she directed Armsmaster over the radio link. "I don't want even the slightest chance of him getting away. And after you get back, I've got another job for you."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed.

Cutting the call, she leaned back in her chair. She didn't know how the irritating girl had known Coil was using a body double, or how she'd pinpointed that one henchman among all the others. But it was a win, all the same. I'll definitely take it.

The other things that still lacked explanations—the rationale behind Purity's actions, and the identity of the water-controlling cape, just to name two—could be dealt with in good time. All that mattered was that one of the gangs in her city was dealt with, once and for all.

<><>​

Taylor

"Welp, that's that." Lisa jumped down from the fire escape and dusted her hands off. Unslinging the binoculars from around her neck, she handed them over to Danny. "Thanks for that. We just averted a major crisis. Even if she didn't stop to listen to me about the base self-destruct." Pausing, she glanced over at Taylor. "We did avert it, didn't we?"

"Let me check." Taylor let the dice run over her palm a couple of times, feeling her heart rate increase. She didn't want to roll, in case the numbers came up bad. Finally, as Kayden came in for a landing, she tossed them gently across the tray. One by one, they tumbled to a stop. She smiled and looked up at the others. "Less than one percent chance of him getting out and causing problems."

"Woo!" Annette grabbed her and spun her around, then kissed her in the general vicinity of her left ear. "Taylor for the win!"

"Pfft, get off, you lunatic." Laughing, Taylor fended off her overly demonstrative friend. "It wasn't just me. It was everyone. We all get this win. This is our victory."

"Definitely." Danny, with his arm around Andrea, looked over the group. "We did good. We did really good. All of us."

Andrea nodded. "I agree. So where do we go with this next?"

Lisa caught Dinah's eye. Their smirks were almost identical. "Oh, don't worry—" said Lisa.

"—we have ideas," Dinah finished.

"Oh, god, there's two of them," groaned Janet.

"Two Lisas, or two Dinahs?" asked Taylor.

Annette smirked as well. "Yes."


End of Part Fourteen

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Fifteen: Initial Foray

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

"So Coil's off the board now too," Lisa said with altogether unseemly satisfaction, drawing several vicious red lines through the name that had been written on the whiteboard. "Director Piggot knows who he is, so she won't give him even the slightest chance to wriggle out of it." She looked at the other names on the board, one of which had been crossed out rather more neatly.

"Did you seriously write all those names up just so you could cross out Coil like he owed you money?" asked Taylor from behind her, leaning back on Kayden's sofa. Her tone was amused rather than accusatory, so Lisa didn't even bother looking around. Lisa heard the ting of a coin being flipped, and the tiny thwap of it landing. Taylor snorted. "Sources say yes."

"Did you even need to flip the coin?" asked Theo, sharing the sofa. "I could tell that's what she was up to, and I don't even have powers."

"Yet," Annette reminded him, leaning over the back of the sofa and giving him a noogie. Even as he struggled and spluttered and tried to push her away, she continued unfazed. "We're both third generation, right? Getting powers should be like taking a walk down the block for us."

Dinah, sitting crossways on an armchair, made a rude noise between her lips. "I hope so, for your sakes. Getting them as a first generation is no fun at all." She chewed for a moment on the pen she was holding, then tapped it on the writing pad she had on her lap. "So here's my question. We've successfully removed the two gangs in Brockton Bay who had close and personal knowledge about any of our members. Even if it was mostly accidental in the case of the Empire. Do we go after the ABB next or the Merchants, or do we leave them alone and just target crime in general?"

"I vote Merchants, because they're assholes," Lisa said, circling that name on the board with the red marker. "Literally all they do is sell drugs. Sometimes to kids."

Kayden exited the kitchen with a tray of cookies and other snacks. "Don't forget, the ABB does exactly the same thing themselves. And of course, they've got the illegal brothels, the illegal gambling, and rumour has it that they're also involved in human trafficking." She looked at the dubious expressions around the room as she set the tray down on the coffee table. "No, this is legitimate. Not Empire propaganda. It's a thing."

"Well, this is Brockton Bay, so I'm not about to dismiss it out of hand," Lisa observed. She grabbed a cookie and took a bite out of it. "Mmm, nice. Your own recipe?"

"My mother's, actually." Kayden looked pleased at the compliment, but then she switched back to the serious topic. "Both the Merchants and the ABB will be expanding into the vacant territory. While the Merchants have more capes, Lung and Oni Lee are more aggressive. I'd strongly suggest not taking on Lung on a haphazard basis, and not without another heavy hitter, such as Glory Girl, on side."

"Oh, trust me," Dinah said, wriggling off the armchair to snag a cookie for herself. "If and when we take on Lung and Oni Lee, it'll only happen after Lisa and I have set up the battle plan and Taylor's nailed down every last variable. And of course we won't fight them both at once. Each one acts as a force multiplier for the other."

"Ooh, munchies!" Annette left off harassing Theo and dived over the sofa in what was apparently intended to be an acrobatic roll. However, the cushion buckled under her and she let out an undignified yelp as she landed on her butt on the floor. "I intended to do that," she claimed unconvincingly, pushing her hair out of her face and reaching out for a piece of home-made garlic bread.

"I'm not even going to bother testing that for truth," Taylor teased her, flicking the coin so it landed cleanly on its edge on the tray alongside the bread. "So Dinah, you're saying we should maybe put the smackdown on the Merchants first, as a trial run? And what's with all these big words, anyway?"

Dinah stuck her tongue out at Taylor, then took a bite out of the cookie. "I've been reading books on strategy," she said once she'd swallowed. "Cross-referencing that with the videos I've been able to find on cape battles in Brockton Bay and elsewhere, I've come to a very simple, very basic conclusion."

She put the rest of the cookie in her mouth and chewed on it while the others looked at her.

"Well?" asked Theo.

Lisa snorted. "Isn't it obvious? Capes suck at strategy."

"That can't be right." Kayden frowned. "Max always made a fuss about 'deploying his forces correctly'. Telling certain people to attack certain targets."

"And yet he held up a long sharp metal object over his head in a lightning storm," Lisa said, holding the whiteboard marker aloft in a dramatic fashion. "The man was not adept at thinking ahead."

"Anyway, just telling who to attack which opponent isn't exactly Art of War stuff," Dinah said. "That's tactics, not strategy. Strategy is making your opponent think you're doing one thing when you're really doing another. So when they react to what they think you're doing, they're in the perfect position for you to hit them out of nowhere."

"And of course, if you're really good," Lisa chimed in, "when they react to your surprise move, you've anticipated that and you've got another one ready to knock them sideways all over again."

Kayden nodded thoughtfully. "Making the other guy expend all his energy hitting shadows, while you get a proper strike in every time," she said. "It's easy to anticipate a single move, but to look several moves ahead and be able to correctly figure out which way someone will jump each and every time … that's a tall order."

Dinah and Lisa shared a look, then they both glanced over at Taylor. All three of them grinned. "So, you were saying?" Lisa asked.

Annette let out a sharp bark of laughter, making Theo jump. "You three. Holy shit. Put you together and you're a strategy engine. I love it."

"I think we'll need you as well," Taylor said. "We might be a strategy engine, but you know how to visualise encounters and figure out what might happen."

Dinah looked at Annette in confusion for a moment, then her frown cleared. "Definitely," she agreed. "You'll be better at it than me, for sure."

Lisa didn't like not having all the information. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "Annette's not a Thinker like the rest of us. Where do you get the 'visualise encounters' thing?"

"I've been learning how to play Dungeons and Dragons with her and her friends," Taylor explained. "If she can keep a five-person encounter moving smoothly, she can figure out how to strategise a cape battle."

Annette blinked, then brightened up. "Cool! Do I get a costume when the rest of you do?"

Taylor shrugged. "Well, the public members already have them, and the rest of us won't be doing the public thing if we can help it, but sure, what the hell."

"Woo hoo!" Annette jumped to her feet and started an impromptu victory dance. "Gonna be a superhero, gonna be a superhero …"

"So what do I do?" asked Theo. "I haven't got any powers, and I barely know anything about strategy. It's not like I can read up on it and be an instant expert overnight."

"No …" Dinah said slowly. "But you do have a strong insight into the criminal cape mind. I'm guessing your father tried to educate you on the capes of Brockton Bay for when you took over from him in the family business?"

Theo scratched the back of his head. "Kinda, yeah? He was always talking about how I needed to be ready, like I was gonna get powers any second and have to take over from him at a moment's notice. He was always about knowing the motivations of all the villain capes, so if I ever had to deal with them in a business way, I'd know what to offer that they'd accept."

Taylor grinned at him. "So yeah, you'll be able to tell us why they're likely to jump this way or that. Awesome."

Theo frowned suspiciously. "Are you just telling me this so I feel better about myself and don't think I'm being left out?"

"Do I look like someone who might do that?" asked Dinah. "My power doesn't lie."

Yeah, but you might. Lisa didn't say it, and carefully didn't tap into her power.

Kayden was their host and their primary heavy hitter, and alienating her by marginalising her stepson from the other kids in the team was something nobody wanted to do. Besides, his lack of powers notwithstanding, Theo had been immersed in Brockton Bay's cape culture all his life. He had to have forgotten more about the city's heroes and villains than Lisa had learned since being drafted into the Undersiders.

The intercom chimed. "Ah, that'll be the others," Kayden said. Wiping her hands on her apron, she headed through to the front door. Pressing the button on the panel, she said, "Come on up."

"Thanks." That was Danny's voice. Lisa relaxed; even with the electronic filtering, he sounded calm and unthreatened. Not that anyone forcing their way into this apartment right now would be doing anything but setting foot in a lion's den. If she, Taylor and Dinah couldn't figure a way to screw with the heads of any intruder, she would lose faith in all teenagers everywhere.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. As Kayden had gone back into the kitchen, Theo jumped up to get it. In came Danny, Andrea, Janet and Amy Dallon, with the surprise addition of her sister Victoria. It was no secret that Victoria was also the teen hero Glory Girl; neither was it hard for Lisa to figure out why she was there. She didn't say anything though; instead, she smoothly turned the whiteboard over so that it showed some kind of … city map? Oh, yeah. Taylor mentioned Dungeons and Dragons.

"Hey, Dad," Taylor offered from the sofa. "How was your day?"

"Only moderately stressful," he replied with a grin that told Lisa a great deal. He's happier now that Taylor has powers. She used her powers to solve one of her problems. Is glad that she's got friends to work with. Not so sure about me, but he's coming around. Mentally, she shrugged. Being an ex-villain meant there would be inevitable baggage to deal with.

"Amy!" Annette leaped to her feet. Lisa saw her gauging the chance of jumping over the coffee table, then meeting her mother's eyes and the quick headshake. Her mom's probably used to stuff like this happening.

"Hey, Annette." Amy came to meet the redhead and they hugged. Amy didn't seem to be put off by Annette's touchy-feely nature, which was interesting. There were undercurrents going on that the healer probably wasn't aware of quite yet, but which Lisa could see happening a mile away, though she had no idea how this was all going to turn out. Still, it was fascinating to watch.

"Oh, hi, Glory Girl!" Dinah jumped up from her chair, eyes wide in a well-simulated fangirl reaction. "Remember me? We met at the Weymouth Mall. I'm Dinah."

"Hello, Dinah." Victoria Dallon smiled indulgently, taken off-guard by the sudden burst of faux enthusiasm. "Yes, it's good to see you again too. So yeah, I heard my sis has a bunch of new friends, so I thought I'd come along and see what the fuss is all about."

Lisa didn't miss the tightening around Amy's eyes and mouth, though she was pretty sure nobody else picked it up. It probably wasn't even about the fact that Vicky was crashing a cape team meeting that she knew nothing about. More likely, Amy was irritated by the concept of Vicky deciding that her friends needed to be checked out, because Amy wasn't cool enough to make friends without her sister's help.

The fact that this supposition was (broadly speaking) true would merely serve to irritate the crap out of Amy. They all liked the snarky healer, not least because she'd healed Kayden in the hospital. Lisa was fairly certain that Annette's feelings for Amy went beyond merely 'liking' her, but she wasn't about to let her mind go down that rabbit-hole. When all was said and done, Amy was a welcome member of their group, not just of the team, and not just because of her powers. Lisa knew all too well what it was like to not know who she could depend on in a pinch.

Which raised the next question: how do we get Victoria Dallon to go away without making it seem like we're chasing her off? Lisa was adept at the first, but it usually went hand-in-hand with causing people to leave in tears by prying at sore points in their lives. Making an enemy of Glory Girl was something she didn't want to do in costume, let alone out.

She glanced from side to side, hoping that someone else in the room got an idea before she was forced to pull the nuclear option; or worse, get so boring that Glory Girl left of her own accord. Annette, still holding onto Amy's arm, didn't look like she had anything to contribute, and Amy was currently engaged in being annoyed at Vicky. Lisa glanced at Taylor then at Dinah, who grinned slightly.

"Oh, well, we're just discussing what we're going to be doing in our next game of Dungeons and Dragons," Dinah said breathlessly, managing to sound like a star-struck eight-year-old. "You want to play, too? I'll help you make a character up. We can be magical elven princesses together!"

Lisa bit her lip to avoid laughing out loud. She'd never played the game, but she was certain whatever Dinah played in the game, it was not a magical elven princess. Vicky was wavering, but hadn't decided to go yet …

Lisa almost missed Dinah's nod to Taylor. "Hey yeah," Taylor said enthusiastically. "We'll be able to tell everyone at school that Glory Girl plays D&D with us!" She produced a multi-sided die from somewhere; Lisa wasn't quite sure where, but her power told her it had twenty sides. "Roll for initiative!"

In a motion that looked careless but had to be anything but, Taylor sat forward in her chair and tossed the die at the tray. It hit the upcurve and bounced into the air; Vicky jerked her head back just too late as the die hit her in the left eye, then bounced to the floor. "Ow! Hey!" she yelped. "Watch it."

"Sorry," sang out Taylor. "My hand slipped. Happens when I get excited. So, you wanna play D&D with us? You'd make a great magical elven princess."

"Are you okay there?" asked Danny. "That got you right in the eye."

"Nah, I'm good," Vicky said. "Force field caught it, but that flinch reflex is something you never quite get rid of. Still, I'm gonna have to call a raincheck on playing Dungeons and Dragons. I already wear a tiara in my day job. Doing it while pretending to be a princess might be a little on the nose."

"Aww, that's too bad," Annette said cheerfully. "Dinah's already memorised the magical princess song. She could've taught you to sing it easily."

"Yeah, no, I think I'll definitely pass. Besides, I need to go on patrol with Mom and Eric soon, so I gotta go." Vicky nodded to Danny and Andrea. "Nice to meet you, Mr Hebert, Ms Campbell …" She paused, looking awkwardly at Kayden. "Sorry, ma'am, I don't think we've met."

"Well, not socially, anyway," Kayden said with a polite smile that had Lisa falling about on the inside from repressed laughter. The chances of Purity having duelled with Glory Girl were fairly high. "Kayden Russell. I'm Theo's mother."

"Ah, okay." Vicky gave Theo a vague wave. "Hi. Um … is it okay if I just open a window here?"

"Certainly, Miss Dallon." Kayden went over and unlatched one of the windows. "Feel free to visit anytime."

"Sure, no problem, Ms Russell." Vicky paused at the window and looked back at her sister. "Give me or Mom a call if you want a lift, okay?"

"Oh, she'll be fine." Andrea grinned at her. "We've got three cars between us. I'd be astonished if we couldn't give her a ride home."

"Right, sure, okay." The teenage hero climbed out the window, then flew away. By the time Kayden had the window closed, Taylor was howling with laughter, with Dinah a close second. Lisa lost it around then, dropping to her butt on the floor and leaning against the wall. Through the tears of mirth welling in her eyes, she saw Amy and Annette leaning on each other and giggling madly. Even the normally dour Theo joined in.

By the time Lisa could see straight again, Danny was sitting down at the dining room table with Andrea, while Janet and Kayden looked on with bemusement. "Okay," said Janet. "I'm guessing that Dinah doesn't play a magical princess in this game of yours?"

"I don't—I don't even play!" gasped Dinah, her face red with laughter. "Oh god, the look of utter horror on her face!"

"I can't believe you hit her in the face with that d-twenty," Annette told Taylor, in between chuckles. "That was perfect. Though we probably managed to put her off the game for life, now."

"Serves her right for inviting herself along to vet my friends," Amy grumbled, though a smirk kept crossing her features. "Was that whole thing an act put on to chase her away? That was amazing."

"That was Dinah," Lisa said, smirking right back. "And Taylor, chucking that, uh, d-twenty at her? That was genius. That's what tipped the scale."

"That and Mom making up the whole magical princess song thing," Annette said, shaking her head. "Man, I wonder if she'll ever realise how badly she just got played?"

"I'm just wondering if we shouldn't have actually let her in on what we're really doing here," Janet said quietly. Everyone turned to look at her, and she raised her good hand slightly. "I know, I know. Uninvited, a bit bratty, more than a little entitled. But think about it. She's a big hitter, I don't like to confront people directly, and Kayden's vulnerable as our only real front-liner. Glory Girl would make things a lot more secure on that front."

"Janet's actually got a point there," Danny said, getting up from the dining room table. "I'm not an expert on how cape teams work, but it seems we're heavy on Thinkers and light on actual throw weight." He looked toward Kayden and Dinah. "Correct me if I'm wrong."

Kayden shook her head. "You're not wrong. The Empire was weighted very much the other way. Most active teams are."

"The Undersiders are too," Lisa remarked. "Well, they were until you guys poached me away. I was the Thinker support, if you don't count Coil. Which I don't, because that asshole would've burned us in a heartbeat if it got him a good deal." She shuddered. "Sometimes I got the feeling he was looking for another high-end Thinker to, you know, drug up and keep in his lair so he could double-dip on his power. I'm just glad my power needs me to get out and see stuff, or that might've been me."

"If and when we take on Lung or any other team with a big hitter, Glory Girl would be a distinct asset," Dinah said, getting back to the original topic. "Right now, though, we haven't got any big wins under our belt that anyone knows about. We don't even have a team name yet. The only people who even know we're a group are … well, us."

"From that, I'm hearing 'Merchants' as our next target," Taylor decided. "Guys?"

Lisa nodded. "I like the Merchants for this. Their heavy hitters are what, Mush and Squealer?"

Kayden nodded. "Yes. Skidmark's got potential, but he's barely more than a medium hitter because he's an incompetent, drugged-out fool. Their last member's called Whirlygig. She can make small objects spin around her in a cloud. I don't think she's got a ranged attack. Neither does Mush. Skidmark can fake a blaster attack if he works at it, but his biggest asset is the fact that his power lets him be very hard to pin down one-on-one."

"Which makes Squealer the most dangerous one." That was Theo. "My father gave her fifty-fifty odds of murdering Skidmark one day and just taking over. She hasn't yet, so I'm dubious. Still, she can build tanks from junked cars. They look like they shouldn't run, but they face up to the PRT and get away. According to my father, her most impressive invention isn't the tanks, but the fact that she can drive them through town and not be seen or heard by anyone until she gets to where she's going."

"Huh," mused Lisa. "Cloaking or teleportation?" Either one would come with its own potential problems, teleportation being the most irritating.

Leaning toward the tray, Taylor picked up the coin that had fallen over at some point during the discussion. "Heads, cloaking. Tails, teleportation." She flipped the coin into the air then grabbed a cookie before it came down. Holding up the back of her other hand to catch it, she took a bite from the cookie, then finally looked. "Heads," she mumbled around the bite, swallowed, and repeated herself. "Heads says she cloaks her stuff."

Annette nodded decisively. "Good. Both of them are a pain in the butt, but invisibility's a lot easier to plan around than straight-up teleportation."

Kayden raised her eyebrows. "You talk like you've had to deal with both."

"Well, not in real life, obviously," Annette said hastily. "But you'd be astonished how often things like that come up in a high-level D&D game. I can't guarantee the fixes would be identical, but it definitely gives me a baseline to work with." She looked from Kayden to Theo. "But I'm going to need whatever hard numbers you've got on everyone's powers. I don't want us going in blind, here."

At that moment, Aster wailed from the bedroom. "I'll take care of her," Kayden said. "Theo, you've got this." She gave her stepson a smile and headed out of view.

Theo took a deep breath. Annette gave him an encouraging smile. "Okay, then," he said. "Skidmark lays down kinetic fields. They can be on the ground or on any object he can see, and they have a colour gradient, from violet to blue. Anything touching the field is pushed from the violet side to the blue side. One field on its own isn't very strong, but he can layer them …"

<><>​

Three Weeks Later

Skidmark

Adam Mustain was irritated. The Empire Eighty-Eight had been virtually eliminated in Brockton Bay, and now some minge-sucking arsewipe was messing with the Merchants. It wasn't any of the known heroes attacking head on; he could deal with that shit. But for the last two weeks, someone had been pinpointing their stash houses and calling the cops in on them. One night after the next, like clockwork. Like someone knew exactly where they were.

Even more irritatingly, they were able to arrange matters so that when the cops came in, it was always when the Merchants were busy elsewhere. By the time him and his people actually heard about the busts and mobilised, the cops were already on site in force, usually with a couple of heroes hanging around. Him and Squealer and Mush and Whirlygig (she'd refused to let him call her 'Shitstorm') were usually enough on their own to make the cops think twice about taking them on without a good reason, but once the drugs were taken away and the arrests made, what was the fucking point anyway?

By now he'd lost hundreds of thousands of bucks' worth of product, and that was money he'd never see again. Worse, when he questioned his dealers about who was singing to the cops, nobody had word one to say, even when he got a little enthusiastic with his questioning. In fact, some of them had started slipping away when he wasn't looking. Not to snitch to the piggies, just … leaving. Leaving the Merchants. Abandoning what he'd built.

After the third hit, when Sherrel had suggested it might be someone on the outside, he'd told her to fuck off. Were the cops raiding any other buildings in the area, or just theirs? These weren't blind guesses. Some little taint-sniffer was talking, and he was going to find out who. But no matter what he did, no matter how much they begged for him to stop, nobody had a word to say about the stash house hits. Nobody knew nothin'. And now he was losing dealers. They'd had a good deal, but it looked like they'd rather fuck off than work for him.

So, a week in, he'd gone back around the dealers who were still sticking by him, and he'd asked a different set of questions. Had they seen anyone, he asked. In the days before the busts, had there been anyone loitering around that smelled of cop. Usually the piggies liked to arrest the dealers at point of sale rather than risk going up the chain and running into capes, but it looked like they were getting a lot sneakier now. Maybe they were following the dealers back after doing the buy, or just using drones or some shit. Whatever it was, they were locating his stash houses and fucking with his livelihood. That shit needed to come to a screeching halt, or he was going to kill some donkey-fucker.

At first, his dealers were almost insulted when he asked about undercover cops. They might've asked what he'd been smoking, but they didn't need to ask, because they smoked the same shit. Still, whether they were straight or so fuckin' high they were licking the Simurgh's ass, they all knew what a cop looked like, and they all swore blind not a one had come near the dealers or the stash houses. It was all their regulars, all the time.

Well, except …

When he heard that 'except' for the first time, Adam thought he was about to break the case wide open. But it was nothing. Just a few teenage kids, wandering past the stash house itself. Not even really looking at it, not bothering the guards, just walking past. They'd only stuck in the one guy's mind because one was a redhead and they were all dressed a bit too good for the 'hood. It wasn't exactly uncommon to see rich kids slumming it in Merchant territory for a cheap thrill and a hit of the good stuff.

Except … Adam still had a feeling about it.

Then he talked to the guys who'd been at the other stash houses that had gotten hit, and one by one, they'd repeated that little detail. A bunch of kids, all dressed neat and tidy, one of them a redhead. Not hamming it up, nobody staring at the stash house or taking notes or even using a phone to get some sneaky pics. But the same bunch, for each stash house hit. Or rather, a group with the same description, which he figured was close enough.

By the time he nailed down exactly what was going on, he was eleven stash houses down. This shit had to stop. The guys at one of the remaining ones had seen the kids, while the rest hadn't. Which meant he knew exactly where the cops were going to hit next. He figured that after they kicked in the front door and ran into him and his crew, they'd be a lot less eager to follow some smartass little teenager's tipoff.

He had it all worked out.

<><>​

Squealer

If Sherrel Bailey had ever had the slightest belief that standing guard was in any way fun or interesting, that shit was long gone now. Her latest creation was parked in an empty lot not far from the stash house, idling in low-power mode with the cloaking field up and running. The sensory suite she'd built into it was rough and ready, composed mainly of scavenged and stolen security cameras and fire sensors, but it was enough to see anyone coming. The trouble was, she was bored. So fucking bored.

A car cruised past, but it wasn't the teenagers. The cameras picked up a skinny guy in the driver's seat, and a blonde chick riding shotgun, with another chick in the back. They didn't look to the left or the right, just kept on going. The car showed up as perfectly normal on the more exotic scans she pinged it with, and it didn't have any extra radio antennae, so she put it from her mind.

The two-way radio on her dash crackled. "Yo, Squealer. Anything going on?" It sounded like Adam was just as bored as she was.

"Nope," she said. "Car went past, but it's nothing. Should be going by you any second now." Mist drifted past some of her cameras and she frowned. "How cold is it out there?" Brockton Bay got cold in the winter, but nowhere near as chilly as places like New York or Boston, even though it was north of them. Fog just didn't normally form around this area.

"Not that fuckin' cold. Haven't seen the car yet. How many in it?"

She frowned. "Should've got to you by now. Skinny guy driving, two women passengers."

"Right, right, I see it." He paused. "How many people in it, did you say?"

"Three," Sherrel said clearly. "Driver, two passengers. Skinny drink of water, two chicks."

"Must be a different fuckin' car. Just the driver in this one."

Sherrel sat up, adrenaline flushing through her system. "That's not right. I saw three—what the fuck?"

She broke off with the exclamation as the cameras caught a change in the light level around the armoured vehicle she was sitting in. It was like someone had turned on a massive floodlight and aimed it where she was parked. All of her cameras were pointed at ground level, but she had a few of them on swivels, so she started turning one to point upward as she slapped the button to bring the tank to full readiness.

Skidmark began to say something then, but she never heard it, because at that moment something punched a hole through the back end of the tank. She'd never been one to worry about such pissy stuff as actual safety equipment, so the blast threw her out of her seat to land sprawled up against one of the walls. Alarms were blaring, lights were flashing, and a good chunk of the control panel went dead and dark. Her power meter started going down fast; it looked like the engine had been damaged.

Ears ringing, she engaged backup batteries and tried to throw the tank into gear, just as a second blast smashed into the tank, this time blowing the back end clean off. Sparks sprayed from every circuit and panel, and the vehicle groaned and died. Clawing her way to her feet for a second time, she mashed the startup button again, but absolutely fuck-all happened. A tendril of smoke curled its way into the control area. Either something was on fire, or it really wanted to be.

"Fuck!" she screamed, unaware that she was mostly deaf. Forgetting all about the two-way radio that had fallen under the control console, she pulled a panel off beside the driver's seat. Behind it was a lever with the sign "Do you really want to do this?" next to it. Without a moment's hesitation, she grabbed the lever and heaved. Explosive bolts blew, detaching a chunk of armour as well as the wall behind the panel. Cool night air rolled in; she grabbed a pistol from a compartment next to the lever and jumped out.

Outside was a lot more well-lit than she recalled, with some sort of floodlight up on one of the buildings overlooking the empty lot. Even though the angle was all wrong, she brought up the pistol to see if she could shoot it out. A moment later, her hand cramped and she dropped the weapon. Then another blast came spiralling down and hit the tank for a third time. It was definitely on fire now.

Forgetting about the pistol, not even trying to query why Purity was attacking her tank (or even how Purity knew the tank had been there), Sherrel bolted for it. The safest place she knew was the stash house. There was a narrow alleyway between two buildings that she'd previously scouted; once she came out the other side, she would be diagonally across the street from the house. Twenty seconds, done and dusted.

There were trash cans in the alleyway, which someone had arranged differently to the last time she'd been down here. Still, it was easy to dodge around them, though a dumpster had been dragged across to block it altogether about two-thirds of the way along. Making use of a convenient trash-can, she climbed on top of the dumpster and prepared to jump down. She didn't like the idea of landing on the tumbled cans on either side, so she prepared to jump down onto where the vague rounded shape of a manhole cover showed in the darkness.

The manhole cover wasn't there. It was just a manhole.

"Fuuuuuu …"

<><>​

Skidmark

Adam had no idea what was going on.

First off, Sherrel disagreed with him about how many people were in the car. Big deal, he only saw one. The driver was probably getting road head or something. But then she said 'what the fuck' which meant something was going on. He'd just started to ask about that when there was a loud noise in the background and the radio cut off.

"Hey, Sherrel, what the fuck? Talk to me!" He looked at the two-way radio. The charge was still good. "Quit fuckin' around and tell me what's going on!"

"Uh, boss?" called out one of the armed mooks on window duty. "Might wanna see this."

"I'm surrounded by syphilitic cock-jugglers," he grumbled as he went through into the side room. "What do you want, you bleeding rectal tumour?"

The mook pointed, and Adam goggled. There was a glow on top of one of the nearby buildings. He couldn't see the source directly, but there was a fuck-off huge cloud of smoke rising from right about where Sherrel had parked her plonking great death machine. "FUCK!" he screamed. "Why does this always fuckin' happen to me?" Pausing and eyeing off the cloud, he made up his mind what to do next. "Mush! Where the fuck are you?"

It took two more yells before the wizened little man appeared, already starting to gather some of the abundant trash in the stash house to make his Mush form. "What?" he mumbled. "Something happen?"

"Yeah," snarled Adam. Some twatwaffle just blew up Squealer's tank. Take some of these useless pricks and go see what happened. If you catch who did it, mess 'em up good."

Mush looked at him in what was possibly a doubtful manner; Adam couldn't really tell through all the trash the scrawny little turd had covered himself with. "Sure that's a good idea?" he asked. "Could be a trick to make us come over there. Maybe Whirlygig—"

"Whirlygig's staying right here," Adam interrupted him. "That's why you're taking the guys. You're fuckin' bulletproof like that anyway. Don't be such a little bitch."

"Fine," grumbled Mush and shambled from the room. Adam could hear him calling for reinforcements. The guys weren't anything special; Adam had gotten his remaining dealers together, and taken those who weren't so shitfaced they knew which end of a gun went bang. But he'd also promised them a bonus when all this was over, so they knew to at least pretend enthusiasm.

As soon as Mush and the exploration party were out the front door, Adam locked it again. No fucker was getting in to score his product when his back was turned. And even if the cops did hit the place, they'd have him and Mush to deal with, and that wasn't even counting Whirlygig.

It didn't matter what had happened to Squealer. This shit was over as of tonight.

<><>​

Janet

The short-lived scream from the alley behind her made Janet smirk, but it didn't distract her from concentrating on the collections of water that were people in the house just down the block from where she stood in a patch of shadow. Even though she had powers, she felt weird wearing a domino mask. Fighting villains, she knew, had its perils. Panacea had explained what had happened to her Aunt Jess (aka Fleur), once upon a time. So the mask was necessary, if not really her thing.

She brought up more fog, causing the air humidity to precipitate just that little bit extra and reduce visibility. It didn't impair her in the slightest; she could tell where Kayden was on the rooftop above, where Panacea was in the alley with Squealer, and where Mush was coming with the people he'd chosen.

Just as Theo, Taylor, Lisa, Dinah and Annette had agreed he would.

Danny had supplied the heavy wrench to open the fire hydrant, and now she was holding back the water pressure with her powers alone. She waited until Mush was almost level with her but on the other side of the street, and let go with the first blast. The slug of water hammered across the width of the road and knocked the trash villain off his feet. As the mooks goggled, she angled the stream slightly, blasting them sideways, one after the other. Each time one of them tried to get up, she washed them farther away from Mush.

When the last one got the message and stumbled off down the street in full rout, she returned her attention to the now-waterlogged villain. He was still coherent enough to get up, so she aimed the high-pressure spray at him once more. This time, she focused on blasting the trash off him, washing it away and knocking him over every time he tried to rebuild himself.

Panacea came up alongside her. "Squealer's secured," she reported. "Where did you get the idea of hanging a net inside the manhole, anyway? From your sailing days?"

Janet snorted, moving her hand in a curving motion to shape the outgoing spray. "Nope. From playing pool. Did you have any trouble?"

Panacea chuckled. "Nah. She was climbing out, swearing like Uncle Neil when he's stubbed his toe, and I offered her my hand. She took it, and that's all she wrote."

"Hah." Mush was down to the last few bits of trash, so Janet directed the spray at his face. No matter where he turned, even if he faced away from her, he couldn't get a good breath of air. To make matters even worse for him, she was wrapping bands of water around his limbs that restricted his movement, but she didn't want to chance actually drowning him. "Want to go wrap up Mush for me?"

"Love to." Panacea started across the road. "That'll be two down, two to go."

"We do make a good team." Janet stopped the flow of water and began to screw the cap back on the hydrant with quick, efficient movements.

At the same time, she focused on a particular house down the road and across the way, and concentrated her attention on the pipes.

<><>​

Skidmark

He didn't know what this weird fog was that had just rolled down the street, but he knew he didn't like it. Not one little bit. Worse, the guys Mush had taken with him had just run past the house, going the other direction. The funny thing was, they were all soaking wet, like they'd been caught in the rain. The fog was heavy, but it wasn't that heavy.

There was no sight nor sound of Squealer or Mush. This was starting to look like a deal gone wrong. Two of his capes were just gone. The Merchants were on the brink. Should he run for it, he wondered, or stand and fight? And what was that glow lighting the fog from above? The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was a fuckin' UFO. Some guys might get off on a bit of anal probing, but not Adam Mustain.

"Uh, Skids?"

He looked around, annoyance washing through him. "Whirlygig! I left you watching the back yard, you useless bitch!"

She looked pissed at him, but didn't comment on what he'd said, which was lucky for her. He was spoiling for a fight right then. "The pipes are rattling," she said. "Just thought you might want to know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" But he was talking to her back; she was returning to where she'd been to begin with.

Frowning, he went through into the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a distinct rattling and banging coming from the water system. Next door, in the bathroom, it was even worse. Once more, he wasn't sure what was going on, but it was starting to shake the whole house, and he knew it was bad news. The toilet had a complex pattern of ripples on the surface of the water. Adam had become intimately familiar with toilets during his last year of college, given his growing drug habit, but he'd never seen this one.

He was just leaning over to look at it in more detail when it gushed clear to the ceiling, catching him in the face and flinging him across the bathroom. He scrubbed at his eyes, realised he was sitting in water, and looked up to see fountains arising from both the toilet and the washbasin.

As he scrambled to his feet, he heard bangs as pipes burst throughout the house, sending water spraying out of holes in the wall. By the time he got out of the bathroom, he was ankle-deep in water. The kitchen was also flooding, he realised, and the water was rising by the second.

The ambush, he finally allowed himself to admit, was a dismal failure. He'd been outplayed and outmanoeuvred from the beginning. All he could do now was fuck off. "Whirlygig!" he yelled. "Time to go!"

She didn't answer him—he strongly suspected she'd already deserted the sinking ship—so he dashed to the front door and heaved on it. It moved not at all, which wasn't altogether surprising, given that there was a foot of water on the inside. Swearing to himself, he started laying down field after field inside the door, designed to pull the water away from it. The water began to swirl violently, washing against the door then blasting into the interior of the house.

Grabbing the handle, he heaved once again. This time, the water pressure was minimal, allowing him to drag it open an inch. The field took over at this point, hauling it all the way open so fast it nearly dislocated his wrist. One of the remaining mooks tried to dash out past him, but put one foot on the skid-field and was launched screaming toward the maelstrom that was the kitchen.

Hastily—the water was nearing thigh-deep by now—he threw down some more skid-fields, these ones designed to pull the door and water sideways, away from the door. Once they had the door held, he dismissed the first fields without thinking … and was washed out the door.

"Mother … crapping … dickhole … arsebandit … knobgobbling …" he yelled as he tumbled over and over into the street. Behind him, the house blasted water from every door and window, but he didn't care. All he wanted to do now was get away from Leviathan's little brother, or whoever was pulling this shit.

There was still an inch or so of water on the road where he was, but that didn't matter. He laid down a long skid-field, then another and another, and then stepped on it. Aided by the flow of water, he began to skate away down the road, dropping fields as he went. The best thing about this method of transport, he'd long decided, was that any vehicles trying to chase him would hit the field and lose control. The fog made it hard to see ahead, but all he had to do was stay in the middle of the road and—

The fishing net strung between two electricity poles swept him off his feet and wrapped him up like a Christmas turkey.

<><>​

Panacea

Amy took a moment to admire how thoroughly Whirlygig had been tangled up in the net trap in the back yard. The Merchant woman had clearly had the option to not come out with her powers active, but she'd decided that they were under attack and gotten out a window. The fishing nets Janet had sourced had come in amazingly handy, as had Theo's description of how Whirlygig's power worked. Once the power had caught one end of the trap, the woman had literally wrapped herself up before she could turn it off. A series of carefully-placed hooks ensured that she couldn't release herself with equal ease; it was going to take someone with a knife to get her out of that.

For now, there was nothing sticking into her, the water was no longer flowing out of the house, and she wasn't about to suffocate. Reaching out, Amy touched skin and put the villain to sleep.

"So how's Skidmark?" asked Janet, exiting the back door of the house.

"Still tangled in the net you set up there," Amy said with a grin. "The look on his face when I tagged him was amazing. I love how you arranged it so his skid-field would activate the trap."

"It took Lisa and Dinah to get the fine details right," Janet pointed out. "So, did you want to hang around and talk to the cops?"

"Not right now," confessed Amy. "My folks still don't know I'm moonlighting, even if I'm not in costume." She looked down at her black top and jeans, then touched the matching domino mask on her face. "I really don't want to open that can of worms with them at the moment."

Janet nodded. "I hear that. Same for me, except I don't want to open the whole costumed-hero can of worms ever."

They walked through the house and out the front door, where Amy paused and took a note from her pocket, along with a small box of pushpins. Sirens were starting to sound in the distance as Janet helped her pin the note to the door.

They headed out to the street, where Danny was waiting with the car. Kayden was already in the front seat, so Janet and Amy got in the back. As they sedately drove away, Amy and the other two pulled their masks off.

<><>​

Armsmaster stared at the note that had been pinned to the door.

Skidmark: down the street to the left.

Mush: down the street to the right.

Squealer: in the alleyway across the street to the right.

Whirlygig: in the back yard.

You're welcome.

No name was appended.

For all that a bunch of criminal capes had been taken off the street, he knew Director Piggot would not be happy about this. Not at all.



End of Part Fifteen

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Sixteen: Rolling High, Rolling Low

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

Director Emily Piggot
PRT ENE

"And were the Merchants where the note said they'd be?" Emily didn't want to have to ask the question—she was almost certain she knew what the answer was going to be—but she asked it anyway.

"Yes, ma'am." The more Armsmaster disliked a situation, the more curt his answers became. Emily could understand this; she was much that way herself. "Skidmark was wrapped in a fishing net with hooks to hold it closed, as was Whirlygig. Squealer was in an alley next to a manhole that had had a similar net set up as a trap. And Mush was lying on the sidewalk, soaked to the skin. All four were unconscious, but recovered when stimulation was applied. Squealer's latest creation had been destroyed on site by high-powered energy bursts. The house they'd been squatting in had somehow been flooded from the inside. Every faucet had burst and the toilet had blown its float valve through the ceiling. They were literally flushed out."

Emily frowned at the levity, then took note of Armsmaster's expression. He doesn't even realise he made a pun. "So, who do you think did all this?" Because there was no way in hell that sort of thing happened by accident. Not even in Brockton Bay.

"Unknown hydrokinetic, high-power Blaster," he stated bluntly. "If I were a betting man, I'd lay long odds that the Blaster was Purity. It's the same MO as the Coil setup."

"Well, the pattern certainly fits to several decimal places," she allowed. "I hope these people, whoever they are, understand what they're dealing with when it comes to Purity." Capes are bad enough as it is, but letting a villain pretend to be a hero sends the wrong message. Assault hadn't been her idea, but she'd been ordered to let it happen and it seemed to be working out so far. This did not mean the next one would, though. Shadow Stalker's disastrous reveal had proven that, in spades.

"And with this hydrokinetic," Armsmaster said. "At least we know Purity's basic capabilities. We've got nothing at all on this other person."

Emily nodded. "Someone powerful enough to flood a base so large in just minutes by drawing on the entire city's water supply is distinctly worrying."

"The entire water supply?" Armsmaster looked intent. "Are you sure?"

"Certain." Emily's lips thinned. "I got a phone call from Mayor Christner himself, asking why his water pressure had suddenly dropped to near nothing. Fortunately, it went back to normal afterward. Though it's going to be quite some effort, pumping all the water out of that base just so that we can investigate it."

"At least we managed to figure out which water main was feeding it, so we could divert it for the duration." He didn't sound thrilled even with that minor victory. "But even after we drain it, we'll have the problem that much of it is likely to have collapsed. Digging through the remains is going to be extremely effort-intensive, for unknown rewards."

"And yet, we have to make the effort." Emily didn't like it any more than he did. "Who knows what he had stored down there, and what's still intact. The last thing we want is a bunch of rogues burrowing in there, finding some working Tinkertech, and deciding to go villain with it."

"Or even non-working Tinkertech. There were those reports of Coil's mercenaries having high-powered lasers attached to their rifles." Armsmaster's voice took on a tone Emily had heard before; that of a Tinker wondering exactly how good another Tinker's work was, and if it could be adapted to their own use.

"Well, the last thing we want is a third party getting their hands on any of that, working or otherwise." She grimaced. "So we keep pumping and we keep digging. Anything that comes out of there gets bagged and tagged until the lab jocks can analyse it."

"Understood." He cleared his throat. "Any instructions on the Merchant capture?"

She'd already thought this one through. "Interrogate each of them separately to see what they know of who hit them, investigate the house thoroughly in case our mystery capes actually went in there, and check traffic cameras in the area."

"So we're treating them as potential hostiles?" His tone was neither approving nor censorious, merely awaiting confirmation.

Emily set her jaw. "We're treating them as unknowns who may or may not be harbouring a criminal within their ranks, attacking other criminal capes for motives that could range from keeping the streets safe to removing rivals. Even if their motives are pure as the driven snow, their actions threaten to unbalance the status quo in ways they almost certainly didn't take into account."

"Gang war between the ABB and the remains of the Empire Eighty-Eight over territory," Armsmaster said, confirming that he was following her thought process. "Because Lung will push."

"And that's if they're on the up and up." Emily shook her head. "If they're playing a longer game, looking to deliberately destabilise matters in Brockton Bay, they're certainly going about it the right way. It's only sensible to find out everything we can about them in case shit goes sideways." Her expression soured. "If they want to play their little game, they're going to find out I've been playing it a lot longer."

<><>​

Kayden's Apartment
Taylor

I rolled the dice across the table and studied the results with growing satisfaction. When I raised my eyes to everyone watching me, I saw Lisa break out into a grin before I even spoke.

"The Merchants have all been arrested, they'll be tried for their various crimes, and they will go away for a nice long time," I announced. "And just by the way; Dinah, Theo, Lisa? All that work we did locating their stash houses and handing them over to the cops? That's what's going to nail them to the wall. They can't just plead 'having a little fun' with that big of a distribution network."

"Haha yeah!" crowed Annette, giving Theo a high five. "You go, little brother! That's what we're talking about!"

Kayden smiled as Theo flushed with shy pride, then gathered him into a hug. "I am so proud of you," she said warmly. "You don't need powers to be amazing."

"This is what teamwork is all about," Dad noted as he stood there with his arm around Andrea. He gestured at all of us. "Everyone did their thing and pulled it off perfectly. But we have to remember that not every plan is going to go exactly as intended, every single time. Yes, you three are an extremely potent force to be reckoned with, and I'm not taking away from that one iota. However …"

Janet nodded. "However, sometimes shit just happens. It's not what you prepare for that will bite you in the ass, but what you don't prepare for. That day Harvey and I took the Avalon out for a fun day on the water, we had all the usual precautions in place; first aid kit, distress flares, spare water and food, satellite radio, EPIRB, the lot. But we weren't listening to the emergency weather channel once we left harbour and a nasty storm spun up out of the Caribbean. Caught us by surprise because we'd been playing grab-ass instead of watching out for that one little detail." She folded her arms, tucking her stump under her armpit. "Mistakes like that, you never stop paying for."

Dinah caught my eye and tilted her head toward Janet. I realised what she meant and walked around the table. Putting my arm around the older woman's shoulders, I held her close. "This is why you're here now, with us," I said. "To help us avoid stupid mistakes in the future."

Turning her head toward me, she raised her eyebrows slightly. "Your dice told you that, did they?"

"No," I said honestly. "All they tell me is that we can do a hell of a lot more good working together than individually. It's just what I think."

"But she's not wrong," Dinah added earnestly. "Of all of us, you just edged out Mr Hebert in the job of 'knowing what we don't know'. I mean, Lisa's good and all, but …"

"… but even I need some kind of hints to play with before I can put my power to work," Lisa agreed. "Plus … hmm." She frowned.

"Plus what?" asked Andrea. "Don't leave us hanging there. C'mon, spill with the deets."

Lisa's frown deepened. "I can't be certain, and I wouldn't even be considering it if I didn't have you guys to bounce it off, but … I'm wondering if my power isn't biased toward optimism. Like, if I make a plan and there's a potential obstacle, chances are it'll tell me 'we got this' instead of 'let's back off and have another look at it'."

Silence fell while we digested this not exactly thrilling news. I'd seen Lisa's power in action before now, and it had seemed to be fairly reliable, but she had a much longer baseline of experience with it than I did. The idea that it might be adjusting the perceived odds of a plan working was … problematic.

"So what you're saying," Dad ventured, "is that if you're left in charge of the 'go/no-go' phase of a plan, your power is more likely to tell you to 'go' rather than 'no-go', even if there's a potential problem to deal with?"

"Yes … no … dammit!" Lisa ran her hands through her hair, disarranging it further. "Right now I'm absolutely certain in my own mind that this isn't true … but can that be trusted? When I repress my power, I'm a lot less sure about it, but when I don't repress it, it tells me that I'm worrying about nothing and that I can handle all the variables."

Amy, silent until now, cleared her throat. "That sounds … concerning. Almost as though your power is forcing a split personality on you. The part of you that accepts unconditionally what your power is telling you, versus the part that raises legitimate queries about it." She tilted her head slightly. "I wonder if all Thinkers have this problem?"

The silence that fell across the room then was a lot more uncomfortable. Meeting Dinah's eyes, I could tell what we were both thinking. What if my power isn't one hundred percent accurate in what it's telling me? Worse, what if (as seemed to be happening with Lisa) my own biases were affecting the results I got from the rolls? Up until then I had prided my power in being utterly impartial … but what if it wasn't?

"Well, uh, that's definitely a potential problem," Janet said. "I guess we're just going to have to make sure we double-check each other's work a little more closely from now on. And Lisa, if you ever feel it getting on top of you, let someone know. Cutting you out of the loop until you can get your head back together will hurt the group dynamic, but not as much as making decisions based on flawed assumptions."

"Well, that's what us token normies are for," Annette announced cheerfully, putting her arm around Lisa's shoulders. "We can make plans too. The difference is, we know we can screw up."

"Which brings us back to what we're doing here," Dad said. "Taking down the ABB. Or rather, taking down the capes. Lung and Oni Lee. Comments?"

"We can't fight them both at once," I said immediately. "The numbers for that are horrible."

"But are you sure?" asked Annette, in a fake-suspicious tone of voice. "Or is that just what your power's telling you?"

Andrea left Dad's side and took a couple of steps to lightly smack her daughter upside the head. "Behave," she chided playfully. "It's not like anyone couldn't have figured that out without powers."

"Yeah, yeah," Annette said, then stuck her tongue out at Andrea. "But it was funny."

"Taylor's right." Lisa turned the whiteboard over and scrubbed off the planning details we'd made for the attack on the Merchants. She took care to leave the locations for the stash houses we hadn't had time to nail down properly; we'd get to that when we could. Finally, she wrote Lung's and Oni Lee's names side by side, with a vertical line separating them. "Fighting Lung will be bad enough. Fighting him with Oni Lee running interference for him would be a killer. And I mean that literally."

"Do you think Kayden and I could take Lung at the same time?" ventured Janet. "Because if we can't …"

"You two are the only ones of us who are capable of bringing him down," Dinah assured her. "But we need a third to make it a certainty. Unfortunately, that person isn't here." She glanced at Amy.

"What?" The healer was visibly startled. "You want me to bring Vicky in on this? Up until now, you've been all about keeping her out of the loop."

"She's about the biggest hitter in Brockton Bay." Lisa wrote in three names under Lung's heading.

Janet

Kayden

Vicky

"Can't Manpower hit really hard too?" asked Theo. "He's one of the reasons Hookwolf never really liked mixing it up with New Wave."

"He can," agreed Lisa. "But he's not totally fireproof, and he still needs to breathe. Also, he's ground-bound, while Lung eventually grows wings."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Also, bringing him in on this brings in Aunt Sarah, which brings in Carol, and I am so over that shit right now."

Annette left Lisa to go back to Amy. "Hey, hey. It's okay. We're good to be here right now." She gave the brunette a hug, which Amy accepted and even returned.

I cleared my throat. "But the biggest problem with fighting Lung and Oni Lee together is that they cover each other's weaknesses. Lung is a tough opponent on his own, but he's beatable, so long as Oni Lee doesn't show up to help out. Likewise, Oni Lee is beatable so long as he doesn't get to simply spam attacks all over the map." Annette gave me a thumb's up, probably for the gaming reference. I returned it.

"As far as I know, he needs line of sight to teleport somewhere," Theo offered. "So, if we block that, we can maybe hamper his movement? Also, he usually takes a second or so between teleports to get his bearings and send out another version. If he can be hit immediately on showing up, that injury stays with him. Fath—uh, Max—had Victor working on an overwatch scenario with a sniper rifle in case Lung and Oni Lee ever decided to go for broke and attack the Empire directly."

"Well, I can locate him as soon as he shows up," Janet said. "But no matter how I screw with his hands and arms, I won't be able to stop him from teleporting somewhere else."

Annette rubbed her chin thoughtfully, leaving the other arm around Amy. "Yeah, but, could you make him go blind? Temporarily, I mean?" I personally had no doubt she could send Oni Lee blind—or far worse—in a very permanent fashion, but this would come down to what she was willing to do.

"I can … maybe do that?" Janet didn't sound very sure. "I'd have to be very careful to not do permanent damage."

"In the heat of combat, not a great idea to depend on finesse." Kayden gave Janet a shrug. "Sorry, but it's true. Adrenaline and all that. Too little and nothing happens. Too much and …"

"Pop," Andrea said. Well, we'd all been thinking it. Or at least, I had.

Janet shuddered. "Pass. I'm not even going to go there."

"Grue's darkness can't be seen through at all," Lisa said. "He's done it before with Oni Lee, and it's worked. The trouble is, once Coil was taken out of the picture and I more or less walked away from the group, the Undersiders weren't so thrilled with me for taking away their main income stream and safety net in one move. In fact, I'm pretty sure they kind of broke up after I left. Went their separate ways."

"Is he still in town? Would he be willing to work with you for the street cred?" asked Kayden. "Having a hand in taking down Oni Lee would be worth a lot in certain quarters."

"It's possible." Lisa frowned, thinking. "I'll have to track him down and talk to him first, to see if he's still pissed at me. So that's a definite maybe."

I hefted my dice. "I'll save you the time." They clattered on the table, and I sucked in air through my teeth. "Ew. Yeah. He's not happy with you, but he's likely to listen to reason. Forty-nine point three five percent chance. The street cred line would push it up a bit. Money would sweeten the deal quite a bit more."

Lisa put up a finger. "How about if I can't pay him too much for his time? I got some of Coil's accounts before they were shut down, but not enough that I can afford to just throw money around."

Rattle went the dice. "Just you, using your best approach? I give it a fifty-seven point nine one percent chance of working."

"Hm." Lisa wrinkled her nose. "Thanks. I'll still give it a try, but I appreciate the heads-up." She looked around. "So, what other options do we have, in case that doesn't pan out?"

"Janet, how about that fog you made during the Merchant attack?" asked Amy. "That'll kill line of sight for sure, if you make it thick enough."

"Fog, I can definitely do," Janet confirmed. "I'd have to bring it up quickly enough that he doesn't get suspicious until it's too late to get away. And even then, it would be very hard to make it thick enough that he can't create multiple clones in a small area and use them to attack anyone who comes near."

"Which means Amy can't come close enough to disable him until he's disabled, in which case we need to be able to disable him without requiring Amy." Dinah bit her lip. "Chicken, egg. Egg, chicken."

"Can't you just, you know, hold him still?" Amy looked at Janet. "All I need is a touch."

"Not still enough for what you need without risking permanent damage." Arms folded once more, Janet dropped her chin a little, a sign that she was starting to withdraw from the conversation. She may have ended Kaiser with a well-placed lightning bolt, but she'd long since made it clear that didn't mean she was okay with hurting and killing people.

"What if I fixed it straight away?" pressed Amy. "You know I could."

"And what if the damage was to his brain?" countered Janet. "I've never done this before. I don't know what would be affected." Her voice was a little harsher, a little higher-pitched. I smelled rain on the breeze coming in through the window, felt the temperature drop a couple of degrees. Distantly, I thought I heard thunder.

"Amy, enough. We're not doing that." Andrea moved up alongside Janet and rubbed her back gently, in slow circles. "We're not going to ask you to do anything you're not comfortable with." Setting her jaw, she looked around at the rest of us. "Figure out another way to do it."

Immediately, I looked at Dinah; as did Lisa, Annette and Theo. It made sense; she was the one who could figure out who was the best person for a job. She blinked, then shook her head. "Okay, my power's still saying Janet and Amy are needed for this, but Kayden is also required for … providing the final piece of the puzzle?"

Our attention shifted to Kayden, who looked blank. "Me? I can't do much more than blast him into pink mist … wait a minute." Enlightenment showed clearly on her face. "Janet, remember the hospital room, when Cricket was coming after me? Remember how you stopped her then?"

Janet paused, then the penny dropped for her as well. "Pepper spray," she breathed. "I could guide pepper spray onto him." Her whole demeanour relaxed visibly as she said this.

"And he certainly won't be able to see straight with a face full of pepper spray," Dad noted. "Or breathe without effort. What do you think, Amy?"

Amy glanced from Janet to Dad, then nodded. "Oh, yeah. Everyone's all gangsta until they get a sinus load of that crap. I don't think I've ever treated anyone who was able to function normally with a good dose of it in their mucous membranes. That'll definitely work to keep him in one place until I can get a hand on him."

Lisa lifted the marker pen to the whiteboard. "So the plan is, we go after Oni Lee first to isolate Lung, then hit Lung once Lee's in PRT custody?"

"That's about it," agreed Kayden. "I know I'd prefer to take on Lung without Oni Lee being involved than with."

"I'd personally rather not take on either one, but that's just me." Lisa scribbled on the whiteboard, summarising the plan elements we'd already come up with in Oni Lee's section. "The question is, when are we going to do it? Having Lung come to Lee's rescue would be just as problematic as the other way around, if not more so."

Dinah turned to me with a grin. "Gee, I don't know. What do you think?"

I returned the grin as I collected my dice. "I think …" The dice left my hand, and rolled and clattered across the table. "… the next time when we'll have a reasonable window of time to capture Oni Lee without Lung interfering is … uh, Sunday, March sixth."

"So, about two weeks away." Annette grinned. "Excellent."

"What do you think, Theo?" Lisa raised her eyebrows. "Between your know-how and our analysis, can we build up a profile on him between now and then?"

Slowly, Theo nodded. "Yes, I definitely think so."

Kayden put her arm over his shoulders, then brought her hand up to gently rub her knuckles over the top of his head. "That's my boy."

<><>​

ABB Territory
Sunday, March 6
8:32 PM
Oni Lee

All was quiet in the territory ruled by Lung and the Azn Bad Boyz. Tributes were coming in as smoothly as clockwork, the substance trade had taken an uptick since the demise of the Merchants, and the Empire Eighty-Eight had understandably reduced their activities since the deaths of Kaiser and Hookwolf. There was graffiti on some walls, most applied with more enthusiasm than accuracy, depicting Kaiser's last moments, usually with a caption that read something along the lines of 'what a moron'.

Lee walked smoothly down the street, his pace steady and unvarying, looking neither to the right nor the left. He knew his boss was out of town, an event that occurred rarely enough that he couldn't offhand recall the last time it had happened. Neither of them thought for even a moment that the absence of the Dragon of Kyushu would cause unrest or even unease among the faithful … but it was better to not tempt fate.

There were those in the city, among the ranks of the racist white supremacists or those who would uphold the law (as if Lung were subject to their puny laws) who would take such an event as an opportunity to raid ABB territory and disrupt matters before he returned. They would never venture to attack Lung himself, of course. Lee could recall the last few times that had happened. It had not gone well for the attackers.

All who knew Lung and Oni Lee knew a simple truth; where Lung was, Oni Lee was not far away. And where Oni Lee trod, Lung watched over him. So tonight, Oni Lee was walking the streets, showing his presence. And by inference, showing that Lung was nearby. Out of sight but never out of mind.

He looked around, fixed a point on a nearby rooftop, and sent himself there. The consciousness of the new clone looked around at the copy still walking along the street, until it collapsed into a heap of ash. He wasn't aware that he was being created and destroyed anew each time he manifested a new clone, but it wouldn't have bothered him if he'd known. As far as he was concerned, he had continuity of memory, and that was all that mattered.

It was dark up above street level; moonset had occurred about an hour ago, and the city lights washed out all but the brightest of the stars. Still, Oni Lee knew the rooftops like the back of his hand, so he picked a landmark in the middle distance and sent himself there. When he arrived, he paused for a moment. His instincts were telling him that something was subtly off, but he wasn't quite sure what.

Slowly, he turned his head, trying to pin down the sense of unease. Nothing came to his ears or eyes, though there could be flyers in the sky and he'd never know it until they came close enough for the light from below to reflect off their costumes. As his hand caressed the first grenade on his bandoleer, he inhaled deeply, tasting the night air.

Was that the scent of perfume or deodorant, brought to him by an errant breeze? He looked around more sharply, but all he saw was a coil of fog, drifting by. And then another, and another. Looking up, he saw that the few visible stars had been blotted out by cloud.

He'd seen sudden fog coming down on Brockton Bay, but those had been under different conditions. There had been no drop in temperature, no recent changes in the weather. This smacked of outside interference.

Alarm flared in his mind and he took the grenade from its place, forefinger sliding into the ring of the pin with practised ease. "Who's there?" he shouted, looking around as more and more fog slid into place around him. All he could see was the rooftop directly nearby; nowhere to go if he wanted to retreat.

But Oni Lee did not flee like a craven mongrel of the streets. Oni Lee attacked. It was part of his legend, that he did not fear death itself because he had already died ten thousand deaths. He brought death to others, and lived to spread the tale.

Almost instinctively, he began to teleport, shifting his clones from one point to another, each one holding a grenade with the pin pulled, creating a group of ever-renewing versions of himself, all looking in different directions. He had used this technique before. Anyone attacking from the outside would be confused as to which of him they should target. And as soon as they did attack, he would have a target of his own.

But nobody attacked. Or rather, the attack came from a different angle than he'd expected. The first he knew of it was an acrid smell, then a wave of mist fell over all of his clones. Before he realised what was going on, his eyes were streaming uncontrollably, and every breath felt like fire. He had to get away, had to teleport! But already, his eyes were swelling shut and he was coughing and retching uncontrollably.

A bright light impinged on his eyelids. Dimly, he tried to throw the grenade he was holding, but his hands cramped up and the grenade wobbled away on a short arc that barely dropped it off the rooftop. A moment later, it exploded in the alley next to the building. He tried to get his pistol out of the holster, but his fingers simply would not work.

I am Oni Lee! he told himself, even as he fell headlong, trying to breathe past the mucus in his throat. I do not lose like this!

The touch on his cheek registered too late for him to do anything about it. Blackness claimed him.

<><>​

Panacea

Amy knelt over Oni Lee's prone body, panting heavily. "Okay …" she said. "That … I never want to do that again."

Kayden put her hand reassuringly on Amy's shoulder. "It's alright," she said. "If Janet hadn't made him drop it in the alleyway, I would've just flown us away again. Check it out; we captured Oni Lee. And we didn't even need Grue to do it for us."

Amy tried not to hear the unspoken part of that; I would have left him to die to his own grenade. Kayden might be a nice woman who doted on her baby daughter and encouraged Theo to express himself, but she was still a supervillain who had killed before, in the name of racial purity. She wondered how Taylor and the others dealt with that knowledge, or if they even treated it as a factor anymore. Just because they don't think about it doesn't mean it's not true.

Which meant that Lisa's failure to bring Grue in on the capture—apparently it had been a close thing, but he'd said no in the end—was probably a good thing. For all the good intentions in the world, supervillains were still supervillains. They didn't play by the rules, more or less by definition. And bringing yet another villain in to work alongside the villain they already had, had the potential to give rise to so many problems that Amy didn't even want to go there.

But they'd done it. Oni Lee was down. All that required now was to secure him and hand him over to the PRT. Breathing deeply to get her heart rate under control, she reached into her pocket for the flexi-cuffs. The other members of the team had wanted to go with zip-ties, but she'd sat through the PRT lectures about how cuffs were far more secure, especially with prisoners who didn't care about hurting themselves.

One hand and then the other; the cuffs zipped neatly into place. She made sure to secure his hands behind him, so that he would have much more trouble doing even simple things. Removing the bandoleer and gunbelt, she set those aside, then figured out how to get his demon mask off. Normally she wouldn't have bothered, but a blindfold was a lot easier to apply without an oni mask in the way.

There was a click and a flash; irritated, she looked over her shoulder to see Kayden holding her phone. "What the hell was that?" she asked. "Did you just get a picture of his face?"

"What if I did?" asked Kayden. "He's a criminal and a murderer. If you ask me, he belongs in the Birdcage or on a Kill Order. Not just sent to prison."

"That's for the courts to decide," Amy muttered, clenching her teeth together. Lisa was a supervillain too, but she mainly dealt in teenage snark, which Amy was quite happy to throw back at her. Kayden didn't have the air of someone planning a sudden-but-inevitable betrayal (Vicky loved that show, especially the Aleph version) but she also didn't act like someone who was intending to play along with the superheroes every step of the way, either.

On the one hand, Taylor and Dinah were adamant that having both Kayden and Amy on the team was the best way to ensure that they'd do the most good for Brockton Bay, and Amy knew better than to argue with one Thinker, let alone two arguing in tandem. In addition, Theo was a nice kid who desperately needed peers of his own age, for all that he was Kaiser's son (and hadn't that been a bombshell of epic proportions) and Aster was just plain adorable.

But on the other … Amy didn't know that packing the ranks of this nascent maybe-superhero maybe-team with villains was a recipe for disaster (she wasn't a Thinker, after all) but at best it was going to have a neutral outcome. She wasn't about to quit the team over friction with Kayden (if she ignored the Nazi supervillain past, there were zero problems to be had) but … the friction was still there. And Amy really preferred to have more people on her side, who saw things from her point of view.

As she finished fixing the blindfold, she made the decision. Up until now, she'd resisted bringing Vicky in on the whole deal, for a variety of reasons. One, because this had been her thing, a team she'd joined of her own accord, where she actually had a secret identity of sorts. Two, because wherever she and Vicky went, she was automatically overshadowed. It wasn't really Vicky's fault, but it happened anyway.

But now, not entirely certain about Kayden's motives and unsure if Taylor and the other Thinkers had taken matters into account with her background (and totally not sure how to ask about that) she figured she needed backup. Vicky would listen. Vicky would understand.

Vicky would have her back.

<><>​

PRT ENE
Director's Office
The Next Morning

"Oni Lee."

"Yes, ma'am."

"No casualties?" She had trouble believing that.

"None whatsoever, ma'am." The PRT captain sounded positively pleased with himself. "We got the call at about a quarter before nine. One of the side roads between Empire and ABB territory. There was Lee himself, lying on the sidewalk, wrists and ankles flex-cuffed, blindfolded. Fast asleep. His weapons were in a sack next to him. He woke up while we were loading him into the van, but he couldn't do a damn thing about it."

"So, in other words, he was handed to you on a platter." She could see that took the wind out of his sails a little.

"Well, yes, ma'am." He shrugged. "But we've got enough on him to put him away for a good long time anyway."

"This is true. Anything else? Were his clothes soaked, by any chance?"

He looked puzzled. "Soaked? Uh, no. It didn't rain last night." Then he held up a finger. "Oh, one other thing. It's not in the official report, but it'll be in the Director's-eyes one that we'll be filing once we have all the information. They lifted a partial off one of the flexicuffs, and you'll never guess who it belongs to."

She glowered at him. "It's too early in the morning for riddles."

"Right, right." He cleared his throat. "Panacea."

"You're sure about this." Her tone said, you'd better be.

He nodded firmly. "The lab guys are certain. But we figured you'd want to keep it on the down-low."

"You figured correctly. Was there anything else?"

"Uh, no, ma'am. We'll have the report to you ASAP."

"See that you do. Dismissed."

The captain left, and Emily leaned back in her chair. So Panacea's somehow mixed up with these mystery capes, hmm? Well, now I know who to pull in when I want to have a chat with them.

But I have to admit, bringing in Oni Lee like that took balls.

I won't lower the boom on them just yet.

<><>​

ABB Territory
Lung

"What. Happened?"

Lung was trying not to become too angry. When he became too angry, when he decided that a threat needed to be met, he became more frightening. Frightened people tended to babble and miss details. So he tamped down the fire inside himself and forced his voice to remain even and reasonable. "Tell me everything."

The tale came to him from half a dozen people. Oni Lee had been doing the rounds, as he did. His presence reassured the people that their capes were watching over them, that any incursion would be met with fire and fury. Nobody knew that he'd been out of Brockton Bay, save the driver he'd taken along, and that man had only learned of his task just before they went.

And yet, someone had picked this one night to do the one thing nobody did with impunity. They had attacked the territory of the ABB. They had attacked the capes of the ABB. Some people had wondered about the encroaching fog, but nobody had been alarmed. The only warning anyone had that something was going wrong was the exploding grenade.

People had climbed to the rooftops and scouted the area, looking for the source of the grenade. They had found the heaps of ash which had indicated multiple teleports; Lung had seen this before. All clumped in a small area. It had been a battle.

But a battle where nobody else had fallen. There was no blood, no bullet casings, only one grenade spoon, and the faint acrid scent of pepper spray. Footsteps and other marks in the ash, showing that someone had been there, but who? Who would attack the ABB so brazenly? Who could battle and capture Oni Lee without a single casualty? Who would even try?

There were too many questions, not enough answers. He was not unaware of the downfall of the Merchants, or of Coil before them. The impression he'd gotten was that these had been isolated events. It pained him to admit that he'd been wrong, but there was no other option. Someone was out there, hunting supervillains.

Which meant that he was next. Somewhere out there, someone thought that he was a worthy subject for a hunt. Behind his mask, he bared his teeth. Dragons are not hunted. Dragons hunt.

If and when these would-be hunters came into his territory again, they would be in for a very nasty surprise. For they would be seeking just one cape; Lung. But they would find two.

For the ABB had a Tinker now. She was crazy, it was true, but sometimes crazy was what he needed. Oni Lee hadn't been the most stable of individuals, after all. He was interested to see what she would build first, especially considering that she had told him her specialty was bombs. Bombs were good.

They may have planned for me. But they have not planned for Bakuda.

And therein lies their downfall.



End of Part Sixteen

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Seventeen: Speed Bump

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


Taylor

"Okay, so Oni Lee's out of the way." Dad gave us all a serious look, which was a little impressive given that he was seated in an armchair with Andrea lounging across his lap. "This does not mean taking down Lung is going to be easy. Just not impossible."

"Yeah, I got that." And I did understand it. Lung had gone head to head with an Endbringer. This wasn't going to be like that Saturday morning cartoon I'd once seen when Mouse Protector had threatened Mr Metallic with a plastic sword to trick him into believing he'd lost his magnetic powers. In the real world, villains didn't just give up so readily.

"Janet," said Kayden thoughtfully, "just how complete is your control over water?"

"That's a hard question to answer," Janet replied. "What do you want me to do with it?" Her wary expression underscored her dislike for using her power too much.

"If you surrounded Lung with water, literally put him in a bubble of it, what's he going to do?"

Janet looked at Kayden, then at the rest of us, as if she suspected a trick question. "He's going to heat up the water until it boils away." Duh, she didn't quite say.

I saw Lisa's face light up at the same time Kayden asked the follow-up question. "But what if you stopped it from boiling? You can make water precipitate into rain right across the city. I've seen you do it. Could you hold the water around him anyway, no matter how much he tried to heat it up?"

"I … I don't know," Janet said quietly. "I've never tried. Especially against someone who can just throw more heat at the problem."

I shrugged. "I bet I know how we can find out."

Janet looked dubious. "I know your dice are very reliable, but ..."

Smirking, I glanced over at Dinah. "You know the best way to test it, don't you?"

She gave me a dirty look. "Of course I do."

Janet looked between us suspiciously. "What am I missing? What are you two up to?"

Dinah rolled her eyes and stood up from where she'd been sitting. Marching into Kayden's kitchen, she grabbed the electric jug, checked the amount of water in it, then carried it to the sink. Just as she started filling it with water, Janet clicked to what she was doing.

"Wait," she said. "Are you going to boil water right here and now to see if I can do it?"

"Well, why not?" asked Lisa. "Better to do it here and now under controlled conditions, than trying it out in the field and having to deal with a pissed-off rage dragon if we fail. Right?"

"Well, I suppose," Janet conceded, a little reluctantly. "But what if I succeed with the kettle and fail with Lung?"

"You won't," said Dinah. "Fail with Lung, I mean. When I asked my power just now who was best suited to the job of dousing Lung's flames, you're the only one whose name came up."

"Well, doesn't that mean I don't have to do this now?" Janet made a throwaway gesture. "If I can do it, I can do it."

"No, no, my power says you've also got to do this." Dinah shrugged. "Don't ask me. It just says it's the only way to get it right."

"More to the point," Andrea said perceptively, "why don't you even want to try?"

Janet ran her hand through her hair, making her look somewhat frazzled. "I … I don't know," she confessed. "I held back for so long from doing anything with it, trying something new is scary."

"You did lots of new things with it when you took down Coil's bunch and Oni Lee," Annette said, tilting her head like she usually did when something didn't add up. "Why's this one new thing different from everything else?"

Lisa cleared her throat, in that smug I-know-the-answer way she had. "Because everything else was just moving water around, or actual weather manipulation, which she already subconsciously knows how to do." She gave us a grin. "Making water not turn into vapour when it boils, that's a whole new ball game. If she can succeed in adding or subtracting heat, turning water into steam or ice at will, that'll change things up for the whole team. Especially if she can control the steam or ice like she can with liquid water."

"I'm really not sure I can do that at all," Janet said. "Making it rain's different. I just … well, a really crude explanation is that I just bash the water vapour together until it wants to rain. But I don't even do that manually. It's just a thing that happens because I want it to. I'm pretty sure steam is different."

"I wouldn't think too hard about it," Dad advised. "I've never heard of any capes losing the ability to use their powers because of the Centipede's Dilemma, but there's always a first time."

Dinah frowned. "What do centipedes have to do with water control? Is that a reference to some cape I've never heard of?"

Andrea chuckled. "You shouldn't confuse the kids like that, hon. They aren't used to the classics. But I bet Taylor knows what you're talking about."

I did; the poem he was referencing was one Mom had taught me years ago, partly because I was scared of bugs and she wanted to make them less frightening. I'd never actually seen a centipede in the wild, so I wasn't sure how effective it would be, but millipedes were a good enough illustration of the principle.

"Yeah," I said. "Basically, it involves thinking too deeply about something you normally do automatically. Like asking a centipede which leg it starts off with. In the poem, it gets confused and falls over in the ditch."

"Oh." Janet grimaced. "So if I overthink it, I could get it wrong? Wow, that is not the way to make me feel better about all this."

"Hey, it's alright," I assured her. "You'll do just fine."

"I notice you didn't roll any dice before saying that," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Is that you making sure you don't have to lie to me?"

"A little bit, maybe," I admitted. "Also, questions about powers are tricky. Ambiguous answers are the worst. Asking 'can X do Y' is all well and good, until I get a 'no', which leads to total confusion when they do it anyway, until I find out that they couldn't do it then but they can do it now."

A gurgle and a low pitched whistle from the kitchen got our attention. "Okay," announced Dinah. "The jug's boiling. Janet, can you feel the water?"

Uncertainly, Janet nodded. "I can. Do you want me to try to stop it from boiling?"

Dinah nodded. "If you could, please."

Silence fell over the living room as Janet concentrated. I listened hard to the sound of bubbling water, willing it to stop. If Janet could pull this off, stopping Lung would be a whole lot easier.

The jug continued to boil. Janet's expression became intense, her hand in her lap balling into a fist until the knuckles were white. She clenched her eyes shut; I could see the strain on her features.

After about thirty seconds of effort, during which time the jug continued to bubble away unabated, she opened her eyes and let out a long gasp. "I can't," she said in defeat. "The water's there and I can manipulate it. I can even feel the temperature. But I can't change the temperature, and I can't stop it from becoming steam."

"Can you still control the steam?" I asked, curious.

"Oh, sure." Janet pointed upward, and I saw a swirling white cloud up near the ceiling. "It's still pretty warm, but spreading it out lets it lose heat fairly quickly. But no, I can't force it to stay liquid or even keep it below boiling temperature. Sorry, Dinah. I guess your power's wrong for once."

"What if it isn't?" Theo asked unexpectedly from where he sat with Aster on his lap. I looked over with interest; he was still pretty shy about expressing an opinion, but what he said was always worth listening to. "Dinah, what exactly did your power tell you?"

"That Janet's power made her the best person for dousing Lung's flames," Dinah said promptly. "Why?"

He suddenly seemed to realize that everyone was looking at him, and visibly backpedalled. "Uh, nothing. I was just wondering … well, what if there's another way to do it? Just a thought, that's all."

"Hmm." Kayden looked at him a moment longer, then returned her attention to Janet. "Theo's got a point, you know. We were all fixated on the idea of you brute-forcing Lung by holding the water in place and not letting it boil. You know your power better than we do. There might be other options that we haven't thought of."

Janet didn't look convinced, but she nodded anyway. "Okay, I'll think about it some more."

"Good," said Dad. "Back to the main topic at hand. Does anyone see a problem with moving on Lung by this weekend?"

"Nope, but it never hurts to check." I held up my dice. "Now that Janet's considering new and interesting ways to introduce Lung to all the water, I might have another look at our chances of taking him down." The dice rolling tray was at my elbow, so I let the polyhedrons fall. They clattered to a stop, and I did a double-take. "Ah. This isn't good."

"Not good? What's not good?" Annette got up to check on the dice, while everyone else more or less leaned over toward me. I saw Lisa beginning to frown; she was the only one other than me who could reliably read my dice.

I pointed out the numbers. "Twelve point seven five three percent chance of success. My last roll was in the high eighties, guys. Something's gone seriously wrong."

"Oh, shit." Janet's expression was stricken. "Whatever it is I decide to do is going to backfire and wreck the whole plan. Should I sit this one out?"

"No," Dinah said at once. "My power still says you're an integral part of the plan. Taylor, what are the chances if Janet takes no part?"

I shrugged and rolled the dice, then blinked. "Wow. Seven point nine three one two percent."

"Well, it's not Janet then," Andrea decided. "What's gone wrong? What's happened?"

Lisa raised her head. "Guys … why was Lung out of town?"

I had my alphabet dice ready to hand. Using two hands, I picked up ten of them—all I could hold—and let them fall, all at once. They thumped and thudded all over the tray, then came to a halt. I studied the result. "Okay … it says N-E-W-space-B-A-K-U-D-A."

"He's recruited someone new called Bakuda," Dad said, getting in just in front of Lisa. "But who's Bakuda?"

She gave him a dirty look and pulled out her phone. "Let's see if they've made the news elsewhere."

I picked up the dice again. "Who or what is Bakuda?" Thud thud thud went the dice.

There were no spaces this time, but I didn't need them. "Oh, shit," I whispered.

"What?" asked Dinah, Annette and Kayden all at once.

I stared at the dice. They stubbornly refused to change what they said.

B-O-M-B-T-I-N-K-E-R.

<><>​

Danny

With the hint from Taylor's dice, Lisa had been able to quickly narrow down who Bakuda was; specifically, the main suspect in the Cornell bombing spree. Authorities were offering a reward for information regarding the whereabouts of an Alice Takawara in connection to this. Apparently, the FBI were treating it as a terror attack.

Danny wasn't sure if they'd officially give up once Bakuda made herself known as a member of the ABB under Lung, or keep looking under the pretence that they hadn't made the connection. He'd heard rumours from people he knew in the Dockworkers that the PRT didn't get along too well with the other three-letter agencies at the best of times. This wasn't a surprise, considering how more and more resources that were signed over to them every year, with the ever-increasing number of parahumans out there.

The question was, would the Feds opt to share information to the PRT, or try to apprehend her themselves? Interdepartmental jurisdiction was a thorny question at the best of times, and he knew damn well that before all this parahuman crap had started, a simple mask and assumed name would have done zip-all to dissuade the FBI from performing a much-needed arrest. From what he understood now, though, there was a kind of unspoken agreement that a supervillain's secret identity was ironclad until they were arrested and officially unmasked. Also, the PRT (and their affiliates in the Protectorate) were automatically assumed to be the experts in dealing with parahuman crap. Even when they weren't.

But fortunately, this was getting beyond the point. Right now, all the team needed to know was how to deal with her as well as with Lung. Oni Lee was in custody, which would help tremendously, but the next step was to decide whether to focus on Lung or on Bakuda.

"We can't let her get too established," Lisa insisted. "You know how they say, 'never attack a Tinker in their base'? If her thing is bombs, she can carry them everywhere. She might have a dozen different offensive powers ready to go at a moment's notice. So, we've got to hit her from surprise. We can't let her see us coming, or she's likely to retaliate. And someone who's willing to set off bombs in a university isn't likely to be squeamish about targeting civilians. It's got to be a hard takedown."

"Amy is the best option for doing that without killing her," Dinah said at once. "If she can bring Vicky in on it, that's two options." She gave Kayden an apologetic look. "No offence, but your blast is likely to splatter her across several city blocks, and we don't want to get a reputation for killing indiscriminately."

"None taken." Kayden lifted her chin. "But if it looks like she's about to kill one of the others, I reserve the right to protect them."

Danny nodded. "I think we can accept that. Where is Amy, anyway?"

"Team appearance, with the rest of New Wave," Andrea said at once. "She said she'd be along later."

"Good," said Dinah. "We'll fill her in then." She looked at Kayden. "Just by the way, I do have a role for you when we're dealing with Bakuda. Once we make sure there's nobody in her workshop, your blast would be perfect for demolishing it at a distance."

Taylor grinned. "While the rest of us watch the fireworks from a safe distance."

"With popcorn," Annette added, draping herself over Taylor's shoulder. "Don't forget the popcorn."

"The popcorn's your job," said Dinah without missing a beat.

"What?" asked Annette. "Come on, your power couldn't have told you that. It didn't tell you that." She paused. "Did it?"

Dinah grinned at her. "You'll never know."

That was actually pretty funny; Taylor laughed out loud, and Lisa joined in. Andrea giggled, and even Kayden chuckled at the over-the-top look of outrage on Annette's face. Danny just shook his head with a grin of his own.

"Okay, being serious now," Kayden said. "Lisa's right. I hate to say this, especially after we were all hyped up to beat Lung, but Bakuda is potentially the greater danger here. If I know the villain mindset, she's going to want to make her mark. If we want to keep casualties to a minimum, we're going to need to stop her before she even gets going."

That was when the buzzer sounded.

<><>​

Taylor

Almost reflexively, I scooped up three of the alphabet dice and rolled them, asking a question in my mind. They came up Y-E-S.

"It's Amy," I announced out loud, half a second behind Lisa. She wrinkled her nose at me, and I poked my tongue out at her.

"I'll go let her in," Annette said hastily, undraping herself from my shoulder. She hustled over to the door before anyone else could get their first. "Heyy, how's it going?" she crowed into the intercom. "C'mon up."

"How'd you know it was Amy?" I asked Lisa as Annette hit the button to let Amy in. "It's a buzzer. No clues."

She gestured to the window. "I caught a glimpse of Glory Girl dropping her off. Which you could've too if you'd been paying attention."

"Cheater," I accused her idly.

"Says the girl who can make dice come up any number she wants."

"I don't do that, not in the game." I was very careful not to. My character sheet had a pencil-drawn circle for the d20 to end up in; and another, slightly larger circle for the damage dice to land. Any roll I made outside of those circles simply didn't count.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, sure."

I considered bopping her on the end of the nose with a tossed die (which would then bounce back to the dice tray), but then the door opened and Amy walked in. Annette went to glomp her (which was standard practice between the two; Amy, interestingly enough, had zero problem with this) but stalled when she saw Vicky standing behind Amy. "Oh, hey," she said, then glomped Amy anyway. Self-consciousness was not something Annette was big on.

"Hey, 'Nette," Amy said, giving the redheaded girl a return hug. "Everyone, I decided to invite Vicky over today, if that's okay?"

Vicky stepped inside and looked around, her eyebrows raising when she saw the number of adults in the room. "Okay, this is not what I expected. Is there some kind of event going on that I should be aware of?"

Dad shared a glance with Kayden, then another with Andrea. I didn't see any kind of overt signal pass between them, but he shrugged resignedly. "How much have you told her?"

"Nothing, really," Amy said hastily. "Just that I wanted her in on this."

He pressed his lips together. "Really, you should have talked it over with one of us before doing this."

No shit, Sherlock. There was a reason we were keeping Vicky out of the loop. Well, until we were ready to ask her for help.

I met Lisa's eyes, then picked up half a dozen alphabet dice and rolled them, just as Vicky looked around with exasperation. "Well, to be honest, it would help if I knew what 'this' was. Is this some sort of live-action roleplaying game thing? Is that why that one girl's rolling dice there in the corner, where she thinks I can't see her?"

The question in my head had been, Is bringing Vicky in going to cause drama?

One by one, the dice rolled to a halt. I easily read off the result.

L-I-L-B-I-T. Little bit.

Lisa leaned over and glanced at them, then snorted with amusement. "Coulda told you that," she murmured.

Well, a 'little bit' of drama didn't sound too bad, and Lisa and Dinah weren't throwing off 'danger danger' vibes, so I gave Dad a cautious nod.

He sighed and nudged Andrea gently. Rolling her eyes, she uncurled like a cat and stood up from the chair. "I'd much rather more forewarning about this," he said as he got up as well, whereupon she promptly claimed the chair for herself. "But Taylor and the others seem to think it's okay. I'm guessing this was a spur of the moment thing?"

<><>​

Vicky

"Well, yeah," Amy admitted. "I just asked her to hang around when she brought me over. I thought she could be a part of it."

Vicky breathed deeply, then let it all out again. This was getting more and more irritating, and the way they were talking over her head didn't help in the slightest. "Part of what?" she demanded. "Ames, someone better tell me exactly what's going on, or I'm outta here!"

For some reason, everyone seemed to look to the brown-haired kid on the sofa—Dinah, if Vicky had it right. Nodding as though in resignation, Dinah stood up. "What's going on, Glory Girl, is that we're all part of a superhero team. Your sister has been working with us on a part-time basis, and she's clearly decided that she thinks you're a good fit for the team as well."

Nothing physically changed in the room, but Vicky had the distinct impression of having watched a jigsaw puzzle come apart and reform in a totally different pattern. All of a sudden, the guarded looks from the people around the room made perfect sense, as did all the double-talk and obscure references. "What … the … hell?" she demanded. "You're all capes? Even the rug rat?" She gestured to the baby, currently cradled in the arms of a chubby teen. "Was this whole roleplaying game thing and babysitting thing a huge con? And where do you get off, Ames, joining another team? When were you even gonna tell Mom?"

The petite mousy woman—Vicky thought her name was Kayden—stood up and took a step forward. "First, please lower your voice and watch your language." Her tone was pure mom, and she looked ready to push back hard if Vicky wanted to make a thing of it. "Second, no, Aster is not a cape. The babysitting and gaming aspects were real. A convenient cover, but real. Some of us here are capes, and some are not. We are all part of the team. Amy?"

Vicky watched as Ames wriggled around in the hold of the red-headed girl without actually making her let go. This was the most physical contact she'd ever seen her sister endure from anyone she wasn't healing, which made her day just that little bit more surreal. "Vicky, I'm with this team because they asked me to join rather than just assumed I wanted to be part of it, and basically made it clear that I could do a lot of good by working with them. More than I'm doing with New Wave, to be honest. I think you could help us do good too, which is why I asked you along."

"Which is actually kind of convenient," said Dinah, as though they practised this kind of segue all the time. "We were actually just talking about how useful it might be to bring you along on our next mission, and I was wondering how to suggest it to Amy." She looked at Amy and shrugged. "You know, without making it look like we were trying to replace you with your sister. Because you're absolutely a valued member of the team."

Amy chuckled ruefully. "Huh. Well. Wish I'd known that then. I wouldn't have made an idiot of myself now."

The red-haired girl ruffled her hair fondly. "You might be an idiot, but you're our idiot." Surprising Vicky utterly, she planted a kiss on the tip of Amy's nose. What was even more astonishing was the way Amy didn't shove her away. In fact, she seemed to almost melt into the girl's embrace with a silly little grin.

Forcing herself to disregard everything that she was going to have to corner Amy about later, mentally filed under the heading of what the hell, Ames? When did you start liking girls?, Vicky took a deep breath. "Okay, got it. New team. You've somehow managed to poach Ames, and now you want to bring me in as well. So hit me. What's so great about your team? What've you done, recently? Why should I even give you the time of day?"

The blonde woman, who'd been standing back with her arms crossed, tensed as a couple of them glanced at her. "It was an accident," she insisted. "I mean, okay, I meant it, but only because I had no choice."

Kayden sighed and turned to face Vicky. "What she's referring to is something you've undoubtedly heard about. Remember how Kaiser died? That was her."

Vicky blinked and stared at both women. "I heard he stuck a metal sword in the air during that thunderstorm. Got struck by lightning. That wasn't an accident?"

"He'd stabbed me," Kayden said firmly. "When he raised the sword, he was going for a decapitation strike. She didn't have a choice."

"Wait." Some pieces of the puzzle had finally clicked together for Vicky. This wasn't stuff she was officially supposed to know, but Dean was bad at keeping secrets if she wheedled him the right way. "I did hear about that through the grapevine. But the person he stabbed was supposed to be Purity."

"It was," the woman confirmed. "He was going to take Aster and Annette away. I wasn't going to let him."

Vicky stared at the unassuming woman who had just admitted to being one of the most potent flying Blasters in the city … and also a neo-Nazi criminal. "You're Purity."

"No, I'm Kayden." The woman gave her a hard stare. "Don't even go there. I'm reforming. Going hero. Ma-Kaiser laughed at me when I said I wanted to do that. Nobody here is laughing."

"Vicky." It was Amy's voice, from behind her. "I want you to think really, really hard about what you say next. These are my friends. You're my guest. Don't mess this up for me."

It was the pleading note in Amy's voice that got to Vicky. She looked at each of the people in turn, then slowly nodded. "Okay, I'll bite. What's your team called?" Because she certainly hadn't heard of any new teams on the scene recently.

"We haven't got a public-facing name yet, because we haven't gone public." The tall lanky guy held out his hand. "Danny Hebert. That's my daughter Taylor, over there. She's a cape, I'm not. You already know Dinah, that's Lisa, Janet, Andrea, Theo, and the one hanging all over your sister is Andrea's daughter Annette."

Vicky blinked as she shook his hand. "I'm probably gonna need some reminders on those. So apart from calling down lightning on Kaiser, which I really want to know more about, what else have you done …" She paused, staring at Kayden. "The PRT thing with Coil! You were there! Were you working with this team then?"

Andrea—Vicky thought she had it right—rolled her eyes. "Well, duh. She's been one of us basically from the start. And you shoulda seen what she did to Hookwolf."

"Wait, wait." Vicky held up her hands for a moment. "So all that stuff that's been happening, the gangs all being taken apart, that wasn't just random shit? That was you guys?"

The blonde girl with the green eyes and mischievous grin nodded. "If by 'stuff that's been happening' you mean the Merchant takedown and Oni Lee being brought down like a wimp, yeah. That was us. We set 'em up and knocked 'em down."

Vicky still couldn't wrap her head around it. "Okay, I got it. But how can you be sure you can trust Purity? She's a villain, simple as that."

"Wow, yeah, because it's totally impossible for anyone to ever learn how to not be a villain." The girl rolled her eyes, then whipped out a mask and placed it over her face. "Totally." Reaching up behind her head, she ran her fingers through the neat French braid, throwing her dark blonde hair into disarray.

It took a moment for Vicky to recognize the style of mask and the vulpine grin below it. What clinched it was the way the girl was giving her the finger with the hand that held the mask in place. "Crap, you're Tattletale!"

"Who?" Tattletale whipped the mask away and gave Vicky an outrageous wink. "Never heard of her. She must be a figment of your imagination."

If it wasn't the last straw, it was close to it. Running her fingers through her own hair, Vicky clutched at two handfuls of it and let out a groan of exasperation. "What the he—uh, heck's going on here? Amy, what've you gotten me into? What've you gotten into?"

"A team that actually does stuff, rather than spending more time looking for good publicity," Amy retorted. "Lisa and Kayden are one hundred percent invested in the team. Lisa, because she joined up to help us take Coil out of the picture, and Kayden because she's got Aster and Theo to worry about now. We were looking at going after Lung next. Are you in, or are you out?"

"Ah yeah, about that," said Danny. "Annette, could you do us a favour and fill Amy in on the change of plans?"

Annette—the redhead currently draped over Amy—grinned and managed to somehow crack her knuckles without letting go of Vicky's sister. "So here's the skinny," she said. "While Lung was out of town, he picked up another cape …"

<><>​

Taylor

Following the explanation, Amy seemed willing to take it in stride while Vicky was distinctly on the back foot about the whole thing. Unfortunately, this only served to make her more belligerent. "Oh, come on," she said with a dramatic eye-roll. "How do you even know so much about this newcomer cape? She hasn't even hit the public eye yet and you all know her name, her cape name, her powerset, everything."

Amy sighed. This apparently wasn't her first rodeo when it came to her sister being problematic. "Seriously? That's your biggest problem with all this? That we know too much about the people we're going to be facing before we ever see them?"

"Well, yeah." Vicky spread her hands. "Who even does that? I bet all that stuff isn't even in PHO yet."

"We do that." I realized a second later that I'd spoken up. "We're a Thinker heavy team, with exactly two heavy hitters." I held up a handful of dice. "I'm a precog, Lisa's an intuitive and Dinah's an organizer. As soon as we realized she was going to be in the picture, we started figuring out how to deal with her. Which reminds me." I put down the number dice and picked up the alphabet dice. "Can she detonate her bombs remotely, or does she need a timer?"

The ten dice thudded into the tray. For the benefit of those in the room, I read the reply out loud. "Does both."

"Ah." Annette held up a finger. "How does she set them off remotely?"

"Ooh, good question." I gathered up the dice again. Ten of them were just about all I could hold at once, and I hoped it would be enough for this answer. Dropping the dice into the tray, I observed the answer. "Huh. Toe ring L."

"Toe rings on the left foot," Lisa filled in. "Okay, that's definitely something that would've given me headaches."

"Oh, come on!" Vicky interjected. "How reliable's all that, anyway? You're literally throwing dice and interpreting the result!"

Well, they were certainly correct about the 'little bit' of drama, I thought with an internal sigh. "It's my power. I have to toss dice or other things to actually show the answer. The other part of my power is that I can toss anything with absolute accuracy. Once my power gets the answer, I can make the dice do whatever I want." That was a little broad, but I was starting to lose patience with her.

"Bullshit." She folded her arms. I suspected she half-believed me, but she was so invested in opposing what I said that she had to dig her heels in no matter what.

"Fine," I said, nettled. "Call a result. I'll do it."

The challenge had been thrown down. She stomped over to where I sat, and examined the dice in my tray; five d10s and ten alphabet dice. "Okay," she said. "All those dice, stacked on top of each other, on the table."

Looking her dead in the eye, I stood up and gathered half a dozen alphabet dice and three of the d10s, all by feel, and turned away from the table. Then, still holding eye contact, I tossed them over my shoulder toward the table. Grabbing the rest, I did the same again. We all heard the clatter as they landed. I allowed myself a smile as I turned to look.

The flabbergasted expression on Glory Girl's face as she beheld the fifteen-die tall stack—interspersing two alphabet dice with one d10, all balanced on a single d10—was a thing of beauty. "Oh, no way," she muttered as she leaned closer, then she saw the piece de resistance; the bottom d10 was balancing on its point, supporting the dice above it on the other point … while spinning in place.

Her jaw dropped and she was clearly lost for words. "How …"

Well, almost lost for words.

I shrugged. "You called it. I pulled it off. Now do you believe me?"

"Well …" I could see her trying to figure out some way to explain what I'd done.

"Oh, for god's sake, Vicky," snapped Amy. "Stop being such a dumbass! You're embarrassing me in front of everyone, here!"

Where a thousand reasoned arguments may not have done the trick, that one got through. Vicky looked from the stack of dice to me, then to her sister and everyone else in the room.

"Okay," she said quietly. "If Amy says I'm being a dumbass, maybe I'm being a dumbass. What is it you need me to do?"

"Well, before you got here," Dinah explained, "we were having a strategy session on how to deal with the ABB. We'd just about agreed that Bakuda needs to be taken down before we make our move on Lung, because of the danger she poses. And that's where you and Amy come in."

"Wait, why aren't we hitting Lung first?" asked Vicky. "He's a lot more dangerous than any Tinker."

"That's not necessarily the case," Lisa corrected her. "What's the one thing every Tinker needs in order to be truly dangerous?"

Vicky shrugged. "Parts? Tools?"

"Given the chance, any Tinker can assemble parts and tools," Theo said unexpectedly. "What you need to starve them of is time itself. Time that might be spent building new devices, acquiring hard to get materials and in general consolidating their position." He ducked his head as we all looked over at him. "That's what my father used to say, anyway. He never felt it was fair that the Empire lacked Tinkers."

I nodded. "If we take Bakuda down, Lung will know for a fact Oni Lee was no fluke. But he can't stay in rage dragon mode forever. Bakuda, on the other hand, is likely to feel amazingly threatened if we capture her new boss, and Tinkers who feel threatened may be even more dangerous than the regular type."

"And Tinkers who focus on bombs have a way of passing that threatened feeling on to everyone else around them really effectively," Lisa pointed out.

"Um …" Annette said, raising a finger. "I have a question."

I took my dice tray over to where the stack of dice was just beginning to wobble, and held it in the right place so they all fell into it. "Shoot."

"Anyone can make a bomb," she said. "I mean, if you look on the right place online, you can get detailed explanations for building anything except maybe a nuke, and I'm not even certain about that."

"Including a nuke," Lisa corrected her. "I went looking once."

Annette rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that makes me feel a whole lot better. Anyway, my point. What's her Tinker deal? What does she do to make bombs special? Firecrackers that demolish whole buildings? Bombs that don't make noise when they go off? Bombs that just go bang don't exactly require a Tinker to build."

"That's a really good question," I said slowly. "Okay then, let me get set up here. Lisa, I may need you to interpret."

I made myself comfortable in the chair, put the d10s to one side, and poised myself with the alphabet dice. "Okay," I said out loud. "What do Bakuda's bombs do that's out of the ordinary?" And then I tossed the dice.

<><>​

Several minutes later, Dad was still scribbling in a notepad. "Turn … people … to … glass," he murmured. "Okay. Any other new and horrifying revelations?"

"You got the black hole and the pain bombs?" Lisa asked; at his grunt of assent, she nodded. "All good for the moment then."

"No, not all good," Kayden said. "This person is going to start tossing bombs around in my city that turn people to glass? We need to stop her yesterday." A glow started building up around her hands.

Vicky grimaced. "Much as I hate to agree with Purity, yeah, that's what we need to do. Okay, I'm totally on board. What's the plan?"

I met Lisa's gaze, then brought Dinah in on it too. "Time to do what we do best."

Dinah grinned. "I'll get the map."

Lisa cracked her knuckles. "Oh, hell yes."

<><>​

Bakuda

Brockton Bay wasn't Boston, Alice decided as she climbed the stairs to the roof, or anything like it. Her hometown had an air of faded gentility about it, while Brockton Bay was more like a gangster who was trying to convince everyone that since he'd gotten out of prison he'd turned over a new leaf. While asking if someone would like to buy a second-hand watch.

Interestingly enough, the fearsome reputations of the Brockton gangs didn't quite seem to live up to reality. Even in Boston, she'd heard rumours that the PRT was scared to go after the Empire Eighty-Eight and the ABB because of the backlash this would incur. The white supremacists alone had more capes than all the hero groups in town, and they weren't all second-stringers either.

But now that she was in town, things were different. Lung had gotten her back to the Bay only to find out his trusted second in command Oni Lee had been snatched up by the PRT after a battle with a mysterious foe. This had put a distinct dent in the air of infallibility that he was clearly trying to foster with her.

She knew it couldn't be the Empire, because they were having their own problems, starting with Kaiser himself being made over into crispy fried racist on the roof of an apartment building in a thunderstorm. Events had snowballed from there; one of the big hitters had quit the team (after, rumour had it, being stabbed by Kaiser). She'd then murdered another big hitter (Alice hadn't bothered remembering the name; all those white racists looked the same to her) before going off to do her own thing, leaving two more of the gang to get captured by the PRT.

All this had been before the Oni Lee grab. In fact, they'd waited two weeks until Lung was specifically out of town to recruit her before they made that move. Which said to her that someone was making a move, but they were being careful about it. But one thing was certain; whether it was some bunch of villains looking to clear the way before they moved in or the heroes being more subtle than normal, there was no way she was going to tolerate that shit on her watch.

Whoever it was, no matter how carefully they'd planned for Lung (and she had no doubt they probably had a whole dossier on him by now) it was obvious from the fact they'd waited until he left town that they knew they couldn't match up to him when he had anyone by his side. And barely anyone knew she was in the city; even the regular gang members had only seen her face and heard her name. As Bakuda, she wasn't known anywhere else. She hadn't even demonstrated any of her specialized bombs for them.

The sun was just rising as she stepped out onto the rooftop. She stretched and yawned, unfavourably comparing the bay with Boston's waterfront, and giving the PRT headquarters in their converted oil rig the finger while she was at it. That was just begging for a bomb she'd been thinking of, that gave steel the consistency of taffy for about ten minutes.

Whoever was going after the gangs knew nothing about her. Which meant that if anyone made a move on the ABB once she'd had a chance to get some more bombs built would be in for a horrible—

The punch came out of nowhere, smashing into the side of her jaw like a runaway truck. Spinning around, she went sprawling to the rooftop. One of the eyepieces of her gas mask shattered, but that didn't matter; a couple of seconds later, while she was still trying to regain her scattered senses, straps were snapped and it was yanked off her face. Flopping onto her back, she stared up into the face of a cheerful blonde-haired teenage girl. "Surprise!"

Who … what … where … how …

Gravel crunched, and another teen knelt beside her. This one had brown frizzy hair and freckles. "Welcome to Brockton Bay," she said. "I'll be fixing your broken jaw now. You may feel a little numbness. This is perfectly normal." A hand was laid across her cheek, and then she was out like a light.

<><>​

Panacea

Coming to her feet, Amy dusted off her knees and gave Vicky a dirty look. "'Surprise'? Really? That's the best you could come up with?"

Vicky shrugged. "Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Kneeling next to the villain's legs, she worked the left boot off, and then the sock. "Hey, looks like Taylor was right on the money. Toe rings on the left foot."

Amy rolled her eyes. "What did you expect?" A noise caught her attention and she turned her head. "I think someone's coming up to the roof."

"Okay, let's go." Expertly, Vicky picked up the unconscious villain. "Get the mask, will you?"

"Get the mask, get the mask," muttered Amy. "Igor, fetch the brain." With the mask in hand, she allowed Vicky to put an arm around her waist, and in another second they were up and away.

"So, where to?" asked Vicky.

"There's a spot in the driveway behind the PRT building that the cameras don't cover," Amy instructed. "We'll drop her there and send in an anonymous tip."

"You know she'll probably be able to describe us." Vicky sounded pensive. "Mom's gonna go batshit if she finds out we've been doing hero stuff out of costume."

Amy shook her head. "Nah. When you broke her jaw, you also gave her a concussion. She's not gonna have any short-term memory after coming up out of that roof exit. She'll have no idea what just happened."

"Huh." Vicky flew on for a few more moments. "You know she hasn't committed any crimes here in Brockton Bay. What are they gonna hold her on?"

Amy grinned. She'd already asked Taylor that question. "The Cornell bombings, for starters. With that as leverage, they may even try to recruit her."

"You're shitting me."

"Hey, don't look at me. That's what the dice said."

<><>​

Lung

Kenta climbed the stairs to the roof of the building he was using as a base for the moment. He wanted to talk to Bakuda and make sure she understood the consequences of failure under his leadership. It was good that she was an early riser. This meant she would be able to get much work done.

He opened the door and stepped out onto the roof, already opening his mouth to speak. The words died on his lips as he surveyed the empty expanse. "Bakuda?" he called. "Where are you?"

Only the wind answered him. He strode out onto the roof, looking around with mounting puzzlement. Had she fled his employment so quickly? This made no sense at all. He hadn't even paid her yet.

An object caught his eye, and he went over to see what it was. A single discarded boot, with a sock partially hidden under it. Picking them up, he stared at them.

Why did she take the boot off? Or if someone attacked her, why did they take it off her?

Nothing made sense here. What the fuck is going on?


End of Part Seventeen

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Eighteen: Whack-a-Lung

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

PRT Building ENE
Director Piggot's Office
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
10:45 AM

Emily clicked on the email and skimmed through it. As she'd thought, it was a cc from Maintenance, projecting next quarter's budget. None of the numbers jumped out at her and the bottom line didn't seem excessive, so she clicked away without leaving a comment.

Her phone rang, and she checked the name. It was Armsmaster, which meant it was the call she'd been waiting for. Swiping to answer, she tapped the 'speaker' icon. "You've got Piggot. Talk to me."

"The techs and I have finished scanning her, ma'am." Armsmaster's tone was matter-of-fact, as though he hadn't just been checking over a dangerous Tinker for booby-traps. "There's no sign of any implants. The gas mask and toe rings are currently sequestered in three different storage containers, all Faraday shielded."

"Bring her up," she said. "I'm interested in what she's got to say for herself."

"Understood, ma'am." His voice didn't change at all. "Just be aware, she's not happy with the situation."

"And I'm not happy that she's in my city, so she's just going to have to take a number and wait in line." Emily cut the call, then tapped keys on her computer. The dossier they'd been able to assemble on Takawara came up on her screen, and she ran her eye over it once more. Most of the information was publicly available; what little required warrants had been open to them once the phrase 'Cornell bomber' was mentioned to the judge.

Alice Takawara had a Japanese father and a Caucasian mother. She'd gotten into Cornell on a scholarship, but it seemed her grades had begun to slip in recent months. Emily figured this probably had to do with a combination of arrogance and spending more time partying than studying. She'd seen the type more often than not.

Looking at the grade in question, Emily pursed her lips in a silent whistle. What sort of stresses had the girl been under if she triggered because of a B plus? If I'd gotten straight B+ in college, my parents would've been celebrating. Slowly, she shook her head. This was someone who believed they could—and should be allowed to—do nearly anything, and lashed out against everyone else when they ran head-first into reality. So basically, the same as about seventy-five percent of capes.

So far, the indicators were not great. But she was under pressure from above to pull some sort of a win from her hat after the Stalker debacle, and Takawara was her best bet so far. Nobody had died yet, but a lot of property had been damaged, including a professor's car which had … melted. Fortunately, without the professor in it.

If Takawara had murdered anyone, Emily would've been able to justify sending her straight to holding and then to trial. But 'trigger trauma' was apparently a thing, these days. The latest directives suggested giving brand new capes the benefit of the doubt for any crimes they might have committed in the heat of the moment. Personally, Emily didn't think a protracted series of bombings over several days counted as 'heat of the moment', but she wasn't the one who made the rules.

There was a knock on her door, and she raised her voice. "Enter."

The door opened. Armsmaster came into her office, then stood aside as a petite woman with Asian features, wearing prison orange, was escorted in by a single trooper. Her hands were cuffed in front of her, with the heavy mittens used to constrain Tinkers fastened onto her wrists. While her legs were free, a short chain led from her cuffs to a heavy leather belt strapped around her waist.

Emily gestured at a single chair that had been placed in front of her desk. Made of molded plastic and metal, it would offer no pieces for a Tinker to prise off and sequester. "Ms Takawara, take a seat. Trooper, dismissed."

"Ma'am." The trooper stepped back from the door and closed it behind him.

Emily looked at the woman, who was still defiantly standing. "Perhaps you didn't hear me. Sit down."

Takawara stared back at her. The woman had brilliant blue eyes. "I prefer to stand."

So it's going to be like that, is it? "Very well." Emily's eyes narrowed. "Is there any particular reason why you choose to stand?"

"I don't take orders from you," Takawara stated, as if it were a law of nature. "Your heroes broke the rules, so you can go and get fucked."

Well, he did say she was unhappy. "How exactly did they break the rules?" God knew capes would be capes, Emily was fully aware of that, but she hadn't heard anything new about them acting up. The swearing, she would deal with later.

"They attacked without warning!" Takawara tried to wave her hands for emphasis. "I haven't even committed any crimes in this fucked-up city! One minute I'm heading upstairs to get a breath of fresh air, the next I'm right across town and a couple of your fucking stormtroopers are scraping me off the pavement and carrying me inside!"

That was information Emily hadn't been privy to before. "Where were you when you were attacked? And did you see your attacker?"

Takawara looked cagey. "I was home. Well, as close to a home as I've got in this shithole. And no, I didn't see shit. One second I was there and the next I was here." She tried to cross her hands over each other, but the cuffs wouldn't let her do it. "It was like I got teleported or something."

Sitting back, Emily clasped her hands together on her desk. "Well, to put your mind at ease, it wasn't any of the local Protectorate or Wards who brought you here. We received an anonymous tip, and the troopers sent to investigate found you right where the tip said you would be." Unclasping her fingers, she spread her hands apart. "And law enforcement officers are entirely permitted to take wanted persons into custody, if they happen to show up on our doorsteps under mysterious circumstances … so long as we didn't have anything to do with those circumstances."

"That's bullshit!" snapped Takawara. "Even if it wasn't your heroes who brought me here, whoever it was assaulted and abducted me! Fruit of the poison tree or something like that!"

Emily chose not to allow herself the tiny smile she wanted to show. She was already in charge of the situation; rubbing it in wouldn't make Takawara any more cooperative. "It doesn't work that way. Criminals can indeed leave other criminals to be arrested, and we will arrest them. We will investigate your allegation of assault and abduction, but we will also hold you for trial on the crimes we can pin on you."

"But—but I was basically taken from my home!" protested Takawara. "That's not allowed! The unwritten rules say so!"

This again? Emily hadn't encountered a cape this naïve in a while. She tilted her head. "I'm sorry, which rules are these?"

"The unwritten ones!" Takawara tried to wave her hands for emphasis but failed. "The ones that're there to protect capes!"

"Ah, yes," Emily replied blandly. "The 'rules' that aren't actually written down anywhere. The ones that aren't part of the PRTCJ, which are the rules I swore to follow when I donned this uniform. Those rules." She leaned forward slightly. "You are aware, are you not, that these so-called 'unwritten rules' are all in the legal system already? People aren't actually supposed to attack each other in their homes. People aren't actually supposed to rape or murder one another." She shook her head. "Capes sequester a few specific instances of the law and wave them around as if they're something special. As if the rest of the legal system doesn't actually apply to them. Do you have any idea how entitled that makes you appear?"

Takawara took a moment to respond. "You know, Lung's going to fuck you up for this. He'll burn this whole place to the ground. He went up against—"

"—Leviathan, yes, I know," Emily interrupted. "And he lost. Kyushu still sank."

"And then he came here and beat the shit out of your precious Protectorate and Wards, all at once!" Takawara continued, as if Emily hadn't spoken.

"No. He didn't." Emily's tone was calm and measured. "He fought the Protectorate, yes. After he got to a certain size, it was deemed better to allow him to disengage rather than continue to exacerbate the property damage. In short, they drove him off. Just as New Wave has also done. As he failed to do to Leviathan. He's strong, but not so strong that he'll even consider attacking the PRT building on his own. And he's just lost two of his cape henchmen in quick succession." She shook her head. "You're on your own, Ms. Takawara."

She paused a beat, more from distaste at what she was going to say than any desire for dramatics. "There is, however, a second option."

Takawara rolled her eyes. "Don't expect me to roll over on Lung for you. These lips don't snitch; and anyway, I barely got here. I couldn't pick out the building where he put me if you paid me."

"Did I say anything about snitching?" Emily wasn't being totally honest. If Takawara had offered to give up any information about Lung, she would've taken it, albeit with a large grain of salt. The girl's currently demonstrated level of arrogance hadn't altered Emily's initial impression of her. "You've already got a domestic terrorism charge hanging over your head, courtesy of the FBI. That's a Federal crime which, as soon as I handed you over to them, would put you behind bars in a nice secure Tinker-rated facility for a decade or two, easily. Or … we could do a deal, here and now."

From the widening of Takawara's eyes, nobody had bothered telling her until now just how badly she was screwed. Still, she tried to put on an uncaring façade. "Deal? What kind of deal do you think you could offer that I'd consider taking?"

"You rebrand." Emily had no particular love for this idea, so she didn't even try to pretend enthusiasm. Besides, she was shit at acting interested. Pitch the concept and when she throws it back in my face, too bad so sad. Next stop, Federal prison. "We try you and sentence you, then suspend the sentence on the condition that you take on a heroic identity. You get input on your name and costume, but we get the final veto."

"I'll do it." The words popped out of Takawara's mouth, so rapidly that Emily didn't actually register them at first.

"Yeah, thought not." Emily sat back in her chair and spread her hands. "You'll be transported from here—"

"I said, I'll do it!" Takawara stepped forward exactly one pace before Armsmaster's hand clamped on her shoulder. "I'll rebrand!"

Emily blinked. "You will?"

"Fuck yes!" Takawara's eyes opened wide again. "Do you have any idea what would happen to someone like me in Federal lockup? I'm not even twenty-one yet! They'd pass me around like a tasty meat snack! Gimme the form, I'll sign it!"

"Slow down. You haven't heard all the terms." Emily began to tick off points on her fingers. "We get the veto on costume and name. We test you comprehensively on what your Tinkertech is capable of. You only build what we sign off on, with Armsmaster double-checking all your work. Doing anything to violate your probation, up to and including constructing even an electric toothpick without express permission, will render this deal null and void, in which case the next stop would be whatever hole the Feds like to drop people into these days. And yes, you will be supervised twenty-four-seven."

Takawara nodded. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll do it."

"I haven't finished yet." Emily had saved this bit for last. "Being on probation, you will effectively rank lower than even the Wards on station. Literally anyone in this building will be authorised to give you orders, and you will be required to carry them out. If you believe this is being abused, you may bring a complaint to your supervisor or to me and it will be listened to, but I will look poorly on frivolous complaints. Do you understand all this?"

"What part of 'I want to stay the fuck out of Federal lockdown' did you not get the first time?" Takawara asked; rhetorically, if Emily was any judge. "I'll take the deal. Just give me the chance to read the forms over first."

"That's a wise move." Emily smiled coldly. "We prefer to avoid allegations of railroading. And one last thing. Your language."

"What about my language?" asked Takawara suspiciously. "Is this a race thing? My father moved to America before I was born, just so you know. I barely speak Japanese."

"No, it's a swearing thing." Emily looked her dead in the eye. "You've been cursing since you walked into this room; no doubt because you don't want to be here but there wasn't much I could actually do to punish you that wasn't already going to happen. But things have changed. From this moment on, you have to convince me that we both want them to stay changed. Which means you control your mouth around me, just like everyone else. Understood?"

"Absolutely!" Takawara nodded vigorously. "No more swearing, got it, uh, ma'am. Director. Can I call you Director?"

"You may." Emily had no illusions in her own mind that Takawara would be calling her 'Piggy' privately in short order—some of the Wards already were—but she didn't care what they said behind closed doors so long as they accorded her the requisite amount of respect in public. "Armsmaster will walk you downstairs and give you the step-by-step details. And Ms. Takawara?"

"Yes, uh, Director?" Takawara wasn't cowed, not by any stretch of the imagination. But at least she'd been smart enough to take the deal when offered.

"You've got one chance. Don't screw it up."

"No, Director."

At Emily's nod, Armsmaster escorted Takawara out of the office; the door closed behind them. Slumping back into her chair with a gusty sigh, Emily shook her head. She'd honestly expected Takawara to turn down the idea flat; to be brutally honest, she would've preferred it that way. But the girl had accepted the terms as given, so they had to give her a fair shake.

Now all we have to do is make sure she turns out like Assault, and not like Shadow Stalker.

Terrific.

<><>​

Arcadia High
Lunchtime
Taylor

"Sneaking up to the door," Annette announced, "I check it for traps."

Lucy, the DM this week for our little gaming cabal, raised her eyebrows. "You didn't say you'd checked the space in front of the door for traps, but I'll take that as part of your intention." She made a couple of rolls behind her makeshift screen—cobbled together from a couple of Manila folders—then nodded. "Nothing goes off under your feet, but as you wriggle the handles, you feel the scraping of metal on metal, as if something's about to click into place."

"Oooh," murmured Annette, as the rest of us inhaled in sympathy. The last time she'd triggered a trap, she'd just barely managed the roll to avoid becoming crispy fried rogue. "Okay, then. Time to get out the trap-disarming kit. I warn everyone to get back out of the way, in case this thing has an area effect."

Just then, Lucy's phone went off. She glanced at it, then silenced the alarm. "Okay, ten minutes until class. We'll resolve this roll right now, then pull it up."

"Gotcha. Flavius kneels beside the door, every sense alert as he sets about disarming the trap." Annette rolled the d20 onto the table. It clattered across the surface and came to rest on my character sheet, showing a nineteen. "Yes! Score!" She high-fived me, then fist-pumped as she scooped it up again.

"Yeah, with your numbers, you locate the triggering mechanism, jam it, then disable the thing altogether." Lucy said. "If you'd tried picking the lock, it would've shot a poison needle into your finger. As it is, the door begins to open … and we'll wrap it up there. Good game, guys. See you tomorrow." She scooped her dice into the pouch and folded up the screen; both of which went into her backpack.

Annette and I both put our dice and character sheets away, then headed into the building. "That was pretty cool," I said happily. "Flavius is badass."

"Yeah, isn't he just?" Annette grinned at me. "So, how do you think we'll go with Mr. Big and Ugly tonight?"

"I'll be checking right up until go time," I admitted, "but the plan's solid. The trick will be to get him to be at the right place at the right time."

Annette nodded. "And that's Dinah's job."

<><>​

06:05 PM
ABB Territory
Annette

Time for Operation: Fleeing Goblin. Let's hope it works in real life as well as it does in game.

The last of the evening glow painting the skies over Captain's Hill was fading toward burnt orange. All around the city, the street-lighting had come up, except where neglect or outright damage caused patches of darkness on the highways and byways of Brockton Bay.

Annette stood on a rooftop along with most of the other members of what she was starting to term 'the gang' in her own head. They'd have to come up with a better name sooner or later, but that was probably going to take a pizza and movie night, and lots of silly idea, before they settled on one they liked.

She hefted the two-way radio—Mr. Hebert's connections with the Dockworkers were handy for stuff like that—and pressed the button. "Juliet, are you there, come in?"

"This is Juliet. All good, over." Janet's voice came over the radio strongly. "Ready when you are."

Janet was situated a couple of blocks away, at the closest location Lisa and Taylor had been able to pinpoint where their proposed trap could be sprung. Instead of being on a rooftop, she was sitting in the car with Danny. His job, if things went sideways, was to get her the hell out of there.

"Good to hear. Stand by. Kilo, are you there?"

Kayden's voice, tense but calm, responded. "On site, and ready when you are, Golf."

Annette grinned and looked around at the rest. They'd considered giving her the callsign 'Delta' for 'Dungeon Master', but she'd nixed that because it might cause confusion with Danny (Dinah was 'Mike' for 'Management'). Instead, they'd gone with 'Game Master' as an alternate term. "I hear you. Stand by, all. Re-checking for final confirmation."

Taylor didn't need prompting. With Lisa holding the penlight over the rolling tray, she cupped her alphabet dice in her hand. "Is Kayden walking into a trap?"

The dice clattered into the small pool of light. Taylor grinned and shook her head in unison with Lisa. Even standing at the edge of the roof, Annette could see the letters N O.

Next, Taylor rolled four d10s. "How long after she starts will Lung show up?"

Clatter went the dice. Annette couldn't quite see what they showed, but Lisa spoke in unison with Taylor. "Eight minutes, forty-seven seconds."

"Damn," muttered Vicky. "He's close." Amy, next to her, didn't say a word.

"Theo did say he was likely to be patrolling this area of his turf after Oni Lee and Bakuda both got captured," Dinah reminded them. "Showing the flag, reminding them who was in charge around here."

"Yeah, I know." Annette scanned the city skyline again. "It's why I picked that particular drug house, once you guys identified it. Kayden will be able to draw him down this way, yeah?"

"She's the best person for the job, and she knows how to do it," Dinah confirmed.

Annette nodded. "One more thing. Is anyone or anything likely to interfere with the successful completion of this mission?"

Taylor rolled the number dice again. "Eleven point zero one nine percent."

That decided her. Eighty-nine percent is pretty damn good odds. Thumbing the radio button, Annette lifted the radio to her mouth. "All points, all points. ETA is just under nine minutes. We have a go. Let's make this count, people." She watched as Amy tapped her phone to start the timer.

"Just remember," Dinah said to Vicky. "It's got far better chance of working if you hold off until the right time. Not before. Jumping the gun on this sort of thing can lead to disaster."

"Yeah, yeah, got it—whoa …" Vicky whistled as light flared over the Brockton Bay skyline, and a distant boom reached them. "Is that Purity—I mean, Kayden—going full ham? 'Cause I've never seen her not holding back, before."

"Yup." Annette folded her arms, watching with justifiable pride. "That's our Kayden, alright."

<><>​

Lung

As the cavalcade roared through the streets of Brockton Bay, Kenta growled with anger and frustration. This had to be related to the disappearances of Oni Lee and Bakuda, though he wasn't actually sure how. The cape who was demolishing the stash house was undeniably Purity; he'd gotten a positive ID from his men on site.

The last he'd heard of her was just rumours. One, that she'd injured Stormtiger and murdered Hookwolf after being stabbed by Kaiser. And two, that she'd clashed with the Merchants by blowing up one of Squealer's contraptions. How she'd survived being stabbed, he had yet to find out. Flesh wounds were a thing, he supposed.

It didn't surprise him that she and the remains of the Empire Eighty-Eight were on the outs. Kaiser had been a pompous blowhard of the highest order, and his death in that lightning storm had caused the entire ABB a great deal of laughter. Purity's split with him, in hindsight, had seemed virtually inevitable. Of course, she'd regularly targeted ABB assets before that point, so this attack was on brand for her, but it also meant she didn't have any Empire Eighty-Eight backup.

Maybe she's just heard about Oni Lee being captured and has decided to strike while she thinks I'm weak? She'll soon learn how wrong she is. Flame flickered from his nostrils. As she dies screaming.

The other consequence of her being no longer affiliated with the remains of the Empire was that nobody was likely to seek revenge for her death. Lung had little fear of retaliation, but the ABB barely consisted of sixty or seventy people at the moment; one angry cape could make significant inroads into that.

The upholstery was starting to smoulder as the car screeched around the final corner and slammed to a halt. It wasn't a choice to stop so much as to avoid the rubble from the building that Purity was methodically demolishing. Power glaring so brightly it was impossible to look directly at her without getting serious spots in front of the eyes; she was sending down blast after blast into the building. He could tell it wasn't going to last much longer, but the building was no longer his concern.

Also making the road impassable were craters, surrounded by rubble where she'd targeted his men, or at least blown rubble at them. Many were groaning and trying to stand, while the upright ones clutched injured arms or other wounds. Nobody was shooting at her; he suspected that anyone who tried got a blast in return.

Pushing the door off its hinges, he clambered out of the car and straightened up. By now he was already eight feet tall and ramping up faster now that his enemy was in sight. The flame flickered over his body as his armoured scales slid into place. "PURITY!" he bellowed. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

She yelled something in return that he didn't hear and sent a spiralling blast down his way. It missed him, but only by a small amount; the car was destroyed, and the men who'd been in it were sent sprawling. Rubble peppered him, merely serving to increase his aggravation.

Raising his hands, he sent a blast of flame up toward her, but it petered out before it reached her. A blindingly brilliant light against a black background like that made it very hard to determine distance. Snarling with frustration, he leaped up toward the roof of a building opposite the mostly demolished stash house, scrambling until he reached the roof. Moving sideways, she fired another blast at him; he had to leap out of the way before part of the building collapsed under his feet. His rage was growing by the second now, making him more and more determined to bring her down once and for all.

She was closer now, so he sent another fire blast at her, seeking to blow her from the sky once and for all. When the thermal bloom cleared, she was flying away down the street, but losing altitude. Fierce joy blossomed in his heart; he'd tagged her! Normally he needed to get to the point where he could grow wings to seriously endanger her.

Jumping from the building, he landed and rolled, then started loping in pursuit. She was still flying, but now she was down between the buildings, straining to move faster. When she landed, he grinned viciously in anticipation—as much as he could grin at that moment—but then she took off again, wobbling into the air.

She was injured, that much was certain. He didn't know how badly she was hurt, but she'd never retreated this quickly before. And while she could still fly (after a fashion) she wasn't moving much faster than he could run. He could keep this pace up all night, while she would inevitably weaken.

Purity was doomed. He just wished someone could be there to get footage of the final death-blow, but that didn't matter. Parading her mutilated body before his followers would do just as well. Up until now, she had been widely considered one of the most powerful Blasters in the city. When Brockton Bay saw the images of her destruction at the hands of Lung, he anticipated many of the Asian holdouts around the city would flock to his banner.

Her flight faltered again and she dipped down to the ground to make a few limping steps before lifting off once more; in response, he increased his pace, far outrunning the members of the ABB who were still battle-worthy. The kill was near. His talons, even now lengthening and sharpening in response to his bloodlust, would shred her body and drink deeply of her blood.

I will eat your heart.

Another block passed by beneath his pounding feet. Purity's pace flagged, but she must have known he was close behind her because she persisted in her futile attempt to escape him. She was limping worse now; even though he couldn't see her body directly, her burns must be troubling her greatly.

Not as badly as they will be.

She stumbled around a corner, then took flight to cross a street and attempted to duck out of sight around another corner. Lung laughed out loud at that, pursuing her relentlessly, each stride eating up two of hers. The Empire bitch couldn't outrun him, couldn't outfight him, and she certainly couldn't outlast him.

A little farther down the street, he saw her. She was staggering along, her power-glow flickering like a faulty strobe. If he wasn't mistaken, she was dragging one leg. And then, as he came toward her, she turned and faced him, her head bowed.

A cornered rat could still bite, he knew; even weakened, her blast could injure him. Of course, in his current state, he could shrug off nearly anything she could do to him. He had little to fear from her, and she had everything to fear from him.

Confidently, he strode forward. "I'm going to kill you slowly," he promised her.

She straightened up painfully.

WHAM.

The spiralling energy blast took him full in the chest and sent him hurtling back down the street. Digging in his talons and sending asphalt flying everywhere, he brought his undignified tumble to a halt before scrambling to his feet once more. More rage suffused his body, even as his regeneration closed the wound her blast had opened in his chest. The silver scales slid back into place, as if it had never been.

She will scream before she dies.

His prey was limping away again, farther down the street. He gathered himself and threw himself after her. No more words would suffice, just a long drawn-out roar of fury.

As he bore down upon her once more, he saw her turn again. Her arm raised to point at him, then drooped. The glow built, faded and then intensified again. She can barely stay up. I have her now.

She'd taken her best shot, and he'd gotten right back up. He could almost taste her delicious despair. The ABB would boast of this victory for years to come, how he hunted her down like a beast of the field.

And then, as he closed with her, she fired her blast again. This time, she missed altogether, tearing a large manhole clear out of the ground. Whatever was beneath that manhole must have been important because a huge waterspout shot up, blasting him off his feet and temporarily extinguishing the flames that surrounded him.

Snarling, he regained his feet a second time. She was just on the other side of the brand-new fountain in the middle of the street! Fire burst out of him in all directions, evaporating the water clinging to him in a dramatic burst of steam.

Enough with these delays! He saw her shuffling sideways, as if to hide behind the upthrust of water that was already ankle-deep where he was. Gathering himself, he leaped over the hole in the street, and the water gushing out of it.

And that was where everything went badly wrong.

He was almost on her, his talons reaching for her, when the water reached upward and wrapped around him. Between one instant and the next, he was in a ball of it, ten feet off the ground, suspended with no footholds or handholds to go on with. Again, his fire went out as he stared around wildly.

What is this? How is this happening?

Enraged beyond measure, he exerted his power to force flame to surround his body anyway. Bubbles sprang up around him as the water boiled. At the same time, he thrashed powerfully with his arms, legs and tail; swimming for the edge of the blob of water that had the audacity to try to imprison him.

He almost made it, too. His hands reached the edge and found empty air, his head following shortly thereafter. But before he could draw in a breath of lifegiving air, there was a flash of movement and an impact that drove him back into the centre of the sphere of water. He tried to focus on it, but all he could see was a hovering figure. Not brightly lit, like Purity, but flying all the same.

He was going to need to breathe at some point. Also, his attempt to boil the water away wasn't working. Certainly, steam was rising from the top (an odd sight from inside the water, to be sure) but more cold water was flowing into the blob from the gaping hole in the street, sucking the heat energy from his body faster than he could replenish it.

This time, he tried to shoot a fireball from his hands at the flying figure. A huge mass of bubbles blasted from his hands to the edge of the blob, but were swallowed up by the cool water before they even got there. He tried again, to even less avail this time.

Air was definitely beginning to look like a problem. Or rather, the lack of it. It was odd; while he was blasting flame in all directions, he was able to breathe perfectly well. But here, under water, he was cut off from whatever oxygen supply fed him in the open air.

Marshalling control over his wandering thoughts, he threw everything into one last all-out effort to get to the edge of the ball of water. He was Lung. If Leviathan, the embodiment of storms and waves, could not force him to submit, then he would not give up here. Onward he struggled, digging at the water with both taloned hands and clawed digitigrade legs, swimming with powerful strokes that would leave Olympic athletes weeping tears of envy.

Through eyes dimming with oxygen starvation, he could see the surface rippling just there, just ahead of him. Within the ball, strong currents were trying to drag him back to the centre. He rejected them, tearing at the water, pushing harder and harder.

I am Lung.

I will prevail.

His head burst from the surface once more.

He opened his mouth to inhale.

A flashing impact, and he was sent tumbling back inside. Between the lack of oxygen and the stunning blow to the head, he could no longer focus. Slowly, reluctantly, his body began to shrink and slough off the Changes.

He was unconscious before he knew he'd lost.

<><>​

Sergeant Patricia 'Sally' LaSalle, PRT

The PRT transports rolled to a halt, their wheels splashing through the copious water running over the road. Sally got out, finding her boots in ankle-deep water, and reached inside the transport for the radio mic. "Three four one to Console, come in Console. Over."

As she spoke, she kept her eyes tracing over the roofline, while other troopers covered the ones approaching Lung's unconscious body, half-floating in the water. It wasn't hard to ID the guy, even minus the metal mask. The dragon tatts were a dead giveaway.

"Three four one, this is Console, come in."

"Ah yeah, Console. We're on site where the tipoff said to come. Lung is down, I say again, Lung is down. We are securing him right now. Also, you're going to need to get onto City Maintenance, over."

"Three four one, this is Console. I copy Lung is in custody. What's the need for City Maintenance, over?"

Sally chuckled. "There's a damn great hole in the street. Looks like someone busted open a water main. Water's going everywhere. Lung looks like a drowned rat, over."

"I copy busted water main, three four one. Nice job. Notifying City Maintenance soonest. Console, out."

"Roger that. Three four one, out."

Sally put the mic back on its holder and returned her full attention to keeping her head on a swivel until they had Lung tranqued and in the back of the van. Exactly why the water main conveniently suffered a rupture right where Lung was, and how someone had managed to hold his head under water until he passed out, were both matters far above her pay grade.

But it was gonna be a beer and pizza night tonight, after they got back.

<><>​

Taylor

I was still climbing down the fire-escape to ground level when Kayden came in for a landing where we'd parked her car. Dad and Janet pulled up in his car at that moment; they both got out and came to join the group.

Once she landed, I could see that Kayden was holding her arm and moving a little painfully, though not with as much effort as she'd put on for Lung. Also, her costume was a little singed here and there.

"Shit, did he actually get you?" exclaimed Amy. "I thought all that was for show! It was supposed to be for show!"

"Ow. No, not all for show." Kayden winced. "He tagged me with the edge of his last shot."

"Let me see." Amy laid her hand on Kayden's arm, then rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. It's not that bad. Barely even a first-degree burn."

"First-degree is bad enough," Kayden muttered. "It still hurt like crap." A moment later, her expression cleared. "Oh, that's better. Thank you very much."

"No problem." Amy grinned as she gave the older woman a quick hug. "You're the one who had the job of decoying Lung to where Janet could trap him."

"Which, I'm just gonna say, you did perfectly." Kayden added her approval to Amy's as they both looked at the blonde hydrokinetic. "Bringing in more water than he could boil away worked better than I expected, to be honest."

"You're the one who set him up," Janet said diffidently. "And Vicky kept him inside. All I had to do was keep the water circulating. I had the easy job."

Danny chuckled. "Okay, enough trying to pass off the glory to everyone else. We all did a good job. Lung is in custody, and the ABB is now officially without any capes on the street. I think we can all call tonight a rousing success. What do you say?"

"I say, when you're right, Mr. H, you're right." Vicky offered him a high-five, which he returned. "And thanks for bringing me along tonight. I would've liked to be able to play a few more rounds of whack-a-Lung, but I'll take what I can get."

"You did your part perfectly," Dinah told her. "Everyone did. We did good, tonight."

I hugged her. "Yeah, we did. I wonder if the PRT or the ABB will ever figure out what actually happened to him?"

She snorted with amusement. "That's up to you and Lisa to decide."

<><>​

The Next Morning
PRT ENE Building
Director Piggot's Office

"Okay, this can't be a coincidence." Emily looked over the report turned in by the team that had collected Lung. The nominal leader of the ABB was securely ensconced in a high-security holding cell in the depths of the building, with static-shockers and containment foam ready to deploy if he started ramping up. He'd been half-drowned when they found him, though he'd recovered from that relatively quickly. Now, he was just pissed off.

"You're absolutely right, ma'am." Sitting in the reinforced chair before her desk, Armsmaster studied his own copy of the same report on a tablet. "Purity's presence and a strong water manipulation aspect. Three times, villains taken down and then left for us to take into custody." He frowned. "The water manipulation is missing from the Hookwolf incident, but perhaps it wasn't needed there. Or they hadn't teamed up yet."

Emily nodded. "I'm inclined to agree with you. It seems that since Purity made her definitive split with the Empire via disposing of Hookwolf, she's teamed up with this water manipulator and declared war on Brockton Bay's gangs. First the Merchants, then Coil, then Lung." She pursed her lips. "But she wouldn't have been able to nail down Lung so definitively if either Oni Lee or Bakuda had been in the picture. Do you think she had a hand in their capture as well?"

"That aspect does strain suspension of disbelief as a coincidence as well," Armsmaster admitted freely enough. "About the only part of Oni Lee's capture that I can link even tangentially to a water manipulator is the report of an unseasonal fog in that area of town around the time he was being captured. Bakuda, not even that."

Emily snorted. "Yeah, she just ended up on our doorstep, neatly tied with a bow saying Please arrest me. You attended the interview I had with her; do you recall any particular highlights?"

He nodded. "I'd have to check the appropriate recording, but all I personally recall is how she agreed to rebrand. As I remember it, she caved relatively easily."

Emily chuckled. "You might say that. She was playing the role of a dyed-in-the-wool hardcase right up until I mentioned Federal charges, whereupon she suddenly decided she had better things to do than play grab-ass with a bunch of lifers in Leavenworth for the next ten to twenty." Her expression creased with dark humour. "I doubt your bike could've pulled a quicker U-turn than she did, right about then."

Armsmaster nodded. "Very true. And she didn't mention Purity or a water manipulator, did she?"

"Not at all." She shrugged. "When she was brought in, she had a fading bruise to the face, consistent with whatever smashed her gas mask. Medical examination revealed a minor concussion, which means we'll have to keep her until she's fit to agree to rebranding as a hero before actually getting her to sign anything. But the last thing she recalls is going upstairs to get some air."

"Suggesting a rooftop ambush," he mused thoughtfully. "Well, whoever it was who captured her and Oni Lee and left them for us, it certainly wasn't Purity. Based mainly on the fact that we actually had something to take into custody and put in the cells. I still remember the mess she made of Hookwolf."

"I don't think anyone is going to forget the mess she made of Hookwolf," Emily said flatly. She shut the report down and dusted off her hands. "Well, however it was done, the ABB is officially off the streets—the capes, anyway. We can leave the police to handle the unpowered members. Lung still has a Birdcage sentence hanging over his head, so we'll expedite that soonest."

"And what about Purity and the water manipulator?" asked Armsmaster. "What do we mark them down as? Heroes or villains?" What he was asking was, do we leave them be or try to track them down?

"That's actually … a good question." Emily thought about it for a moment. "Purity's a known villain but she demonstrated she was on the outs from the Empire most definitively. Having Kaiser and Hookwolf try to murder her kind of puts a pin in that."

"We know she's got two children to care for," Armsmaster added. "The boy Theo and the infant Aster. Or at least," he added with his usual meticulous care for detail, "Kayden Russel has those children to care for."

Emily frowned. "You know how it goes. Unless and until we can pin down Ms. Russel as being absolutely and undeniably Purity, we can't arrest her for Purity's crimes. Even very strong corroborative evidence just won't cut it."

Armsmaster nodded. "Also, she's managed to be involved in more than half a dozen villains being taken into custody in the last few months, which is a better record than most of the Protectorate heroes in Brockton Bay at the moment." He tilted his head, conveying uncertainty with the gesture. "Maybe we should let her run for the moment. So far, she's doing our job for us, and making us look good in the process by not grabbing the headlines."

"Hmm." Emily intertwined her fingers, rubbing the extended index fingers over her lips. "I think that's not a bad idea." She gave a sharp nod. "Until we get further information, anyway."

Armsmaster returned her nod. "Until that, yes."



End of Part Eighteen

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Nineteen: Expanding the Team

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


Taylor

We converged back at Kayden's apartment, where Theo met us at the front door. "She's sleeping," he whispered. "How did it go?"

Annette grinned broadly and gave him a high-five with the hand that wasn't holding Amy's. "Operation Fleeing Goblin was a total success, bro," she told him with a broad grin. "Lung bought into it; hook, line and sinker. Then Janet trapped him in a water bubble, and Vicky played whack-a-Lung until he ran out of air."

He let out a sigh of relief as the rest of us trooped past him into the apartment. "The plan worked, then. I thought it would, but you never know until you try."

"You two gave us the best run-down on how he'd react and how to draw him in," Lisa said. "Between your knowledge of his motives and Annette's tactical know-how, this was definitely your win as well."

I thought he was about to answer that, but then his eyes went to Kayden. She was perfectly fine, thanks to Amy, but her costume was still a little scorched here and there. "Mom!" he said, still keeping his voice down but with concern evident in his tone. "Are you okay? Did he get you?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "He tagged me a little bit, but it just made the plan work even better, and Amy fixed me afterward." She smiled broadly. "You should've seen him swimming around in that globe of water Janet had him in, like the world's biggest, ugliest goldfish. And every time he stuck his head out …"

"Pow!" Vicky whispered the word and mimed a swing of her fist. "Most fun I've had in ages."

Dad turned to Janet, who'd been quiet for the whole ride back. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Janet nodded. "I think I am. Working with all of you, taking menaces like Oni Lee and Lung off the streets, this is good. We're actually making a difference … right?"

"Oh, we absolutely are," I assured her. "This is what teamwork is all about. On our own, no single one of us could've done what we did tonight, or even when we took down Oni Lee. Working together, especially with someone like Dinah to manage our capabilities, we're capable of far more than the sum of our parts."

"What Taylor said," Dinah agreed. "I know some of you might be used to more freewheeling cape fights, instead of the paint-by-numbers stuff we're doing these days, but …"

"Oh, God, no." Amy rolled her eyes dramatically. "Those fights were nightmares. I had no idea who was going to get hurt, or if I was going to be able to get to them in time. The way we're doing it in this team? It's a dream come true. One, two, three, done."

Andrea tilted her head. "So usually it's a case of just go up to whichever bad guy doesn't have someone on them, and hope they don't have a power that'll totally no-sell what you can do? That's no fun."

"Also that they're as tough as they look, so I don't accidentally splatter them all over the nearest building," Vicky added. "For a while there, I'd actually wait until someone got hit by someone else, then figure out how hard I needed to hit them from that. Not the best strategy, just saying."

Lisa grinned. "So then you had Brandish yelling at you for being too hesitant. Which led in turn to stuff like the Great Bus Debacle."

Dinah cleared her throat quietly as Vicky facepalmed. "As much as we all want to hear that story—I know I do—it's getting close to my bedtime, and I'm pretty sure everyone else wants to go home too. So I just need to ask this question: does anyone have a problem with the way we took Lung down tonight? Any suggestions, queries, or objections? Ways we could've done it better?"

I knew why she was asking that—her power needed all the input—but it still felt a little odd to have her taking the lead when she was the youngest person in the room by a couple of years. I shook my head, then glanced at Lisa and Vicky. Neither of them seemed to have problems.

"None whatsoever," Kayden said. "You're batting a thousand, so far. I can't guarantee it will stay the same, but right now I'm not going to try to fix what's not broken."

"Yeah," said Andrea. "Just watching from the outside, you guys are like a well-oiled machine. Nobody has to do it all, and everyone's got a part to play."

Dinah looked around the room, observing each of us in turn. Whatever she saw must have satisfied her curiosity, because she nodded. "Good," she said. "Tomorrow night, we'll decide who we're going after next; the remains of the Empire, or Uber and Leet. Also, I have a feeling we need to recruit, so we can talk about that too."

"What?" I asked, remembering only at the last moment to keep my voice down. "Recruit? We're kicking ass. Why do we need more people?"

Dinah met my gaze with certainty in her eyes. "Because there are people out there who can no-sell us as we are. I don't intend to let that happen."

Almost by instinct, I took out a six-sided die and flicked it into the air, then held out my hand to catch it. While it was still airborne, I told it to bring up a number relating to how correct she was, with one being 'least' to six being 'most'. It smacked onto my palm, with six dots staring back at me. "Ah," I said. "Right."

"Understood." Dad nodded to Dinah. "Taylor and I can drop you home. Janet?"

Andrea fielded that one. "My spare bedroom's still clear."

Janet nodded. "Thanks. I still need to get a place of my own. I don't like living on charity."

"Pfft. You're one of us now. It's not charity. It's teamwork. This is me doing my part." Andrea hooked her head at the door. "C'mon. On the way, you can tell Annette and Amy and me how cool it was to put Lung through the wash cycle."

"Uh, I can give you a lift home, Ames," Vicky offered.

Amy glanced at her, then back to Annette. "I'm good. Let Carol know I'll be home shortly."

One by one, we filed out the door again. As the last one out, I paused and nodded to Kayden. "We kicked ass tonight."

She smiled back tiredly. "We definitely did."

<><>​

Hillside Mall
Two Days Later

"Excuse me, is this chair taken?"

The teenage boy looked around from his study of the crowd in the busy food court; a girl two or three years younger than him was standing there. "Uh, no, it's not," he replied, a little awkwardly. Social skills were not his thing, which was why he was people-watching in the first place.

Letting her take the chair so she can sit with her friends is obviously the polite thing to do.

"Thank you." However, to his surprise, she pulled the chair out and sat opposite him. "Can we talk?"

His attention, until then half on the crowd around them, snapped fully on to the girl. She had brown hair, and looked twelve or thirteen or so. Not anyone I know. Belatedly, he realised that she had no food with her; he had bought fries so he wouldn't appear out of place while he observed the crowd, but she had none at all. She specifically wants to talk to me. Is this some sort of prank? "What's going on? Who put you up to this?"

"Nobody," she assured him. She didn't seem to be bubbling over with mirth, as he would expect a prankster to be. "I just want to talk to you about something that we have in common."

"And what might that be?" He kept his voice neutral and tried to keep his face the same way.

If this is a gang recruitment, I'm outta here. If she's trying to pick me up, I'm definitely outta here.

"Powers."

Her delivery was calm, smooth and devastating. One word that rocked him back on his metaphorical heels.

Did she just say—

"What?" His voice sounded thin and reedy in his own ears.

"You heard me." She glanced around, not obvious, a flick of the eyes to the left and right. "I'm not going to say it again, but it's what we have in common. You've only recently gotten them, right?"

He nodded jerkily. There was no sense in trying to lie. He hadn't given himself away—his powers were hard to spot in action, by definition—so she had to be some kind of Thinker. "The—the PRT knows about them," he said. Maybe that would give her the message to back off.

"But you're not in the Wards yet." It wasn't a question. She knew.

"I … no." He was bad at social situations. Having some kid just come up out of nowhere and start talking about what should be the biggest secret of his life … he had no idea how to handle it. Saying as little as possible was his go-to, and even that wasn't working.

She leaned back in her seat. "Are you sure you want to even join them? You're not a combative person by nature. You prefer to be in the background. Would you really be comfortable wearing a costume alongside them, being in the public eye like that?"

She was leading up to a point; that much, he could figure out. Exactly what her point was, he wasn't sure yet. He corrected himself: I know where she's going with this, but I don't want to think about it.

"You're trying to poach me out from under them, aren't you?" he asked, keeping his voice down. It wasn't hard to figure out, and he'd never been stupid. She'd laid out all the clues, probably to see how he reacted.

"I am." Her tone was steady and up-front. The expression on her face remained polite and friendly; two strangers chatting in a mall to pass the time.

"… wait." He frowned. "I doubt you came here from out of town to recruit me, so what team do you belong to?" He wasn't aware of any teams in Brockton Bay that had a twelve-year-old as part of their number. "Am I your first recruit?"

If I am, that's a hard nope.

She chuckled. "No. We've been operating in the city for a while now. I spoke to the others and they agreed that we don't have many medium-heavy hitters. Thinkers, yes. Heavy-heavy hitters, yes. But nothing in between. Plus, you've got other capabilities that I think would make you a worthwhile recruit."

Now he was totally lost. "What's your team name?"

She leaned back in her seat. "We don't have one. We operate in the shadows."

Talking to her was like grasping fog. "So, what have you done recently?"

Lowering her voice, she leaned forward again. "Empire Eighty-Eight. Merchants. Coil. ABB. That's what we've done."

He blinked, staring at her. It was true that since losing Kaiser and Hookwolf—the details on the villains' deaths were still sketchy—and having Cricket, Stormtiger and Alabaster arrested by the PRT, the Empire had been left dramatically on the back foot. Nobody quite knew what Purity was up to, though rumour claimed that she was still seen occasionally, flying around the city.

He'd also heard that the Merchants had gone down hard, that Coil had been arrested after being dragged bodily out of his flooding underground base, and that the ABB had been picked off over three nights, the bound and unconscious capes left for the PRT to find. Up until this point, he hadn't connected all these arrests together. If true, then this was massive.

But was it true?

Could she be just running a scam on him?

She nodded, as though reading his thoughts. "I get it. I'm just a kid to you, making bold claims. You're going to want some sort of proof, right?"

"It would be good, yeah." He didn't like being pushy, but sometimes it was necessary.

"Good. You're thinking. I like that." Without taking her eyes off him, she raised her hand and snapped her fingers. A moment later, two girls walked past the table on her side, coming from two different directions, each one dropping a folded piece of paper on the table. They strolled on, not even bothering to look back, as he stared.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"I'll show you in a minute." She had her phone out now. Turning the screen toward him, she started a film-clip playing. "We don't have footage for Kaiser or Hookwolf—those were kind of ad hoc affairs—but here's the Merchants."

In the footage, he watched as water poured out of the doors and windows of a house. It looked like a movie, only the quality of the imagery wasn't good enough. In the next moment, Skidmark burst out the front door in a wash of water and sprawled on the road. Then he got up, threw a coloured field at the asphalt under his feet, and began to skate off … right up until he ran face-first into a fine-stranded net that had been strung across the road. It wrapped around him, tighter and tighter, until the villain was completely bound up.

He blinked. "Whoa …"

The girl grinned and tilted her head. "There's more." She turned the phone so she could see what she was doing, and flicked up a photo. "Whirligig." Similarly wrapped up, the Merchant lay in a pool of water in what looked like a back yard. "Squealer." This time, it was an alleyway, with the Tinker bound in a fishing net.

"That's impressive." He frowned. He and water had a … contentious relationship, considering his Trigger event. "How did you do the water thing?"

"We have a hydrokinetic." She flicked to another photo, of Lung lying face-up in a pool of water, unconscious. The villain lacked his trademark metal mask, but the dragon tattoos were hard to miss. "She's very, very good at what she does."

"Jesus." He rubbed at his forehead. "Okay, I get it. You're not just pulling my leg."

"No, I'm not." She picked up both folded pieces of paper, holding them between two fingers. "Quick question: what's your favourite ice cream flavour?"

Unprepared for the hard left turn in topic, he floundered briefly. "Uh, mint choc chip. Why?"

"In a second." She grinned. "Give me a number between one and a hundred."

"Uh, uh, eighty-seven." He glared at her. "Why all these questions?"

In answer, she passed him both folded notes. He opened the first one, to see the number 87 looking back at him. His breath caught in his throat, and he slowly unfolded the second one. Written on it were the words 'mint choc chip'.

Carefully, he turned the notes over, looking to see if other numbers or flavours had been written on them. Nothing. Finally, he looked back up at the girl, half-expecting to see her seat empty. She was still there.

"We have Thinkers," she said simply. "Sorry about the second-rate magic act. I wanted you to be sure that I hadn't faked the notes somehow."

"You have Thinkers," he repeated. "Most Thinkers can barely predict the weather. How …?"

She shrugged. "I'm a management Thinker. I can see who the best person for any given job is, and advise them on how to do it best. That's how I found them and built this team. And that's how I found you. So, are you interested?"

This was going too fast. "Um … can I have a while to think about it?"

"Sure." She slid a card across the table. "Call this number if you decide to take me up on it."

He picked it up and examined it. The word MANAGEMENT was printed on it, along with a cell number. "So … you're calling yourself Management?"

Shrugging, she waggled her hand from side to side. "It's more of a job description than a code-name right now. We're very costume-light at the moment."

"Uh … okay." That didn't fit any superhero team he'd ever heard of before, but she had said that they operated in the shadows. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." She got up and pushed the chair in. "Have a good one."

He sat and watched as she walked out. Slowly, he ate his fries as he continued to people-watch, but his heart wasn't in it anymore. The pieces of paper were still in front of him, still bearing the number and the ice-cream flavour.

The girl had been so certain of herself, so centred. He wished he could be like that, and knew he never would. Even before his powers, he'd had a tendency to step back, to second-guess himself. The one time he had acted on an impulse, he'd nearly died.

Again, he read the name on the card. He'd thought when he got powers that … well, not that he'd learn the secrets of the universe, but things about the cape aspect of society would make more sense to him. And in all fairness, some of it had. But this encounter, with a bunch of heroic capes acting outside even the understood guidelines of how superheroes operated, had thrown all that on its ear.

When the fries were finished, he got up and headed outside. There was a bus waiting at the stop, so he boarded it. All the way home, he wrestled with the problem. What do I do?

He didn't want to be a flashy hero, out in public, going after bad guys in the name of justice. The few times he'd costumed up and gone out, it had been more from a sense of obligation and to test out exactly what his powers could do rather than a need to punch evil in the teeth. This new team didn't show up as people who wanted him to be loud and proud with his abilities, but they still wanted him for his abilities. Which meant they'd want him to get into fights.

It was a problem.

Getting off the bus, he walked the one and a half blocks home, still ruminating over the dilemma. His mother was in the kitchen when he came in the front door. She called out a greeting which he automatically returned, then headed upstairs to his bedroom.

Closing the door, he kicked his shoes off, then reclined on his bed. His phone was in his pocket, where it had been all this time. Slowly, he pulled it out and dialled a number from memory.

It rang twice, then a familiar woman's voice answered. "Good afternoon, Browbeat. Did you have any more questions, or have you decided to join the Wards?"

"Neither," he said. "I'm looking for advice. Another team, one that's not in the public eye, has approached me, in my civilian identity. Somehow, they knew I was a cape. They showed me evidence that they were involved in the capture of the Merchants and of Lung, and they claimed responsibility for the Empire Eighty-Eight and Coil as well. What do I do?"

There was a pause, then a man's voice came on the line. "Browbeat, this is Deputy Director Renick. Have these people threatened you in any way, said anything about outing your secret identity?"

"N-no," he replied. "It was all very polite and civilised. She—the girl—called herself Management, but said it was more her job title than her code-name. I didn't feel threatened at all, the whole time."

"Hmm." Deputy Director Renick paused for a moment. "I want you to listen very, very carefully …"

<><>​

Taylor

As the bus with Browbeat in it pulled away from the stop, I headed down the street with Dinah and Lisa to where Dad waited with his car. He'd been in the food court with Andrea, just play-acting a couple doing couple things (though in my opinion it was more than play-acting on both sides) to keep an eye on the action.

I climbed in first, so Dinah could sit in the middle with Lisa on her right. Nobody said a word until seat-belts were clicked and Dad had pulled out into traffic. We didn't think we were under surveillance, but there was no such thing as being too careful.

"So, how do you think it went?" asked Dad.

I'd already rolled the dice. "No matter how Dinah approached it, we had at best a forty-one percent chance of him stepping up. But I've got an eighty-four percent chance of him contacting the PRT, and them advising him to join us as a mole."

Lisa nodded. "That's my read, too. If we hadn't acted, the slackening in overall crime would've had him hanging up the mask inside a year. As it is, we get a member who thinks we don't know about his little secret."

"Well, that's two of you," Andrea observed.

Dinah shrugged. "I told him my power picked him as the best person for the job. I didn't tell him that the job was 'mole'."

"And you're certain we need him?" Dad's tone wasn't overly pleased. I could definitely understand why.

"Yes." Dinah nodded. "We need a mid-range melee person. Plus, he can be bulletproof, he's less likely to require Amy's assistance because he can patch up minor wounds, and he has other capabilities which I personally think will be useful in future."

"You know, Vicky's good at the melee stuff; plus, she's also bulletproof," Lisa offered. "She can do everything you just said except the patching up of injuries. Besides, she can fly and he can't."

"We've been over this," Dinah said, her tone just a little acerbic. "Vicky won't always be available, and when she gets enthusiastic she's been known to break things. Browbeat's a lot more reserved. Besides, we can use him to feed Director Piggot the information we want her to have about us."

I scratched the back of my neck. "Okay, so if I get this right, Browbeat thinks he'll be working with us as a secret mole for the PRT, and the PRT thinks we don't know about him being a mole. So the only people in the know is us. Are us. Whatever."

"Sounds about right, hon," Andrea agreed. "Personally, I still think we should've tried to recruit that Vista kid. She does not look happy on the bottom end of the totem pole."

Dinah shook her head. "She's not mentally ready for something like that."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Thirteen point five six one percent chance of agreeing, twenty-two point one nine three percent chance of pretending to agree and taking it to the Director. Sixty-four point one three seven percent chance of just turning us down altogether." These were also rolls I'd done in advance.

"Long story short?" said Lisa. "She's a good little soldier, and she'll always be a good little soldier."

"Even though she'd be happier in our team." Andrea sighed. "Well, maybe she'll change her mind at some point."

Dad cleared his throat. "Well, there's no perfect solution for her situation, so let's leave things alone on that front for the moment. On the other hand, it might be an idea to decide what level of secrecy we're going to be using with this guy. He wouldn't know Dinah from any other girl of her age, but there's zero chance he won't recognise Amy and Vicky unmasked, and Kayden is pretty obvious as Purity when she lights up."

"That's a good point," I said. "Let me get together with Dinah and Lisa, and see if we can't figure out how to work this."

Dinah grinned. "Strategy engine …"

"For the win," Lisa finished.

"Darn tootin'."

<><>​

Browbeat

Lawrence pulled out the card Management had given him, and studied it. He wasn't at all sure that he liked what he was about to do, but Deputy Director Renick had assured him it was entirely innocuous. Or as innocuous as infiltrating a teenager into a shadowy cape team could get, anyway.

Renick hadn't tasked him to find out secret identities or sabotage their missions, which was good, mainly because he would've refused. His entire job was to watch and assist, and report back with his view of how the team operated.

One of the things Renick (and by extension, Director Piggot—Lawrence wasn't stupid) wanted to know was exactly how the team got their information; "they've got Thinkers" was a little vague. Another was to settle the question whether or not the elusive Purity was working with them. And finally, any hints as to the cape name of the hydrokinetic would also be good.

Lawrence decided that he'd cross those bridges when he came to them. Right now, he needed to dial the number and pretend to be interested in the offer. Of course, if their Thinkers sniffed out his intent and called him on it (as they'd be totally justified in doing), he would back off just as fast as he could.

Calling up the keypad on his phone, he tapped in the number, one digit at a time. It rang exactly once before it was picked up. "Hello, Management speaking."

"Hi, yeah, this is Browbeat," he said. "I've been thinking about it, and I want to work with you."

"Excellent," she said, even sounding like she meant it. "Just in time, too. We were planning on doing a mission tonight, and your capabilities will suit the parameters right down to the ground. Can you be ready by nine?"

"Nine?" He blinked and looked at his bedside clock. It was barely four in the afternoon. "Uh, yeah, sure. I can do that."

"Good to hear. Where would you like to be picked up from?"

He thought quickly. Either they didn't know his real name and address, or they were pretending not to in order to lull his suspicions. It was an article of faith that Thinkers loved to show off. If Management knew more about him, she almost certainly would've dropped a hint by now.

"There's a bus stop at Evanston and Craddock," he said. "You know of it?"

"We can find it," she said. "Costume most of the way up, but try to be inconspicuous."

He nodded from habit. "I can do that." Already, he was considering how he was going to sneak out. He figured this could be really cool, or it might be a total catastrophe.

"So, uh, who are we going after?" he asked as an afterthought.

"We were thinking of shutting down Uber and Leet. Don't be late."

The call ended, leaving him staring at the phone.

Uber and Leet? Oh, boy. The odds of 'catastrophe' had just improved considerably.

<><>​

Leet

"And that's the show for today. See you next week. Hopefully Leet's eyebrows will have started to grow back by then."

Uber looked over at him, and Leet mustered a smile. "Haha, yeah." Reaching out, he turned the camera off. "Seriously, did you have to remind everyone that I lost my eyebrows again?"

"Trust me, they don't need reminding." Uber smirked. "There's a site online that tracks the results of your tech malfunctions. Pretty sure that's going to be updated as soon as this episode gets posted."

"Great." Leet rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Remind me again why you hang out with a loser like me?"

"Well, because you're not a loser, for one thing," Uber told him seriously. "You're my buddy. My bro. We're a team, and don't you ever forget it."

"So how come we're never laughing about stupid stuff that happens to you?" Leet was feeling a little mollified, but not totally.

"Oh, there's an Uber's Greatest Hits site, too." Uber snorted. "All the times I face-planted because I was aiming my focus at the wrong technique at the wrong time. It's just that what your stuff does to you tends to leave marks."

"Tell me about it," groused Leet. "Okay, so you're gonna edit it and put it up now?"

Uber nodded. "Yeah, I'm going to just look over it and do any touch-ups that it needs. Want to give me a hand?"

"Nah." Leet chuckled wryly and shook his head. "You're the one who's good at that, and we both know it. I'm going to go look over the next project, see what I need to do to make it roll."

"Right, right." Uber paused in the middle of putting the headphones on. "Remind me again, what was that one?"

"Jeez, dude." Leet rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you've forgotten. We're going old school."

"Ah, yeah." Uber grinned, and they shared a high-five. "I can't wait to see how they react to us doing—"

<><>​

Glory Girl
On a Rooftop Opposite

"Pac-Man?" Browbeat looked incredulous. "Really?"

"Really." Vicky, wearing a dark brown wig over her golden curls and a pair of heavy goggles to obscure her features, nodded in confirmation. "That's what they said. Leet will be working on a Pac-Man setup, and there's a strong chance that it'll be operational enough to give us trouble if we don't shut it down hard."

Specifically, Lisa and Taylor had come up with the Pac-Man diagnosis, while Taylor had given an eighty-seven percent chance for the system to be online. Vicky was gradually coming on board with the idea of working with no fewer than three different Thinkers, one of whom was an ex-supervillain, but some of the stuff they pulled off still looked like black magic, pure and simple.

We haven't got anything like this back in New Wave. Maybe that's our loss.

"But how do you even know that?" Browbeat's question followed what Vicky's thought process would've been, not so long ago. "And how did you even manage to get the layout of the base?"

Taylor had explained this one to her, though she couldn't pass the explanation on to Browbeat for obvious reasons. If I'd know it in the future, my power can look ahead and tell me about it now. Still, it had been weird as fuck to watch a handful of toothpicks get tossed in the air and fall into a precise building layout on the table.

"Well, you know how Watchdog's got those Thinkers that sit around and give various hints and ideas for the way things are likely to go?" There'd been a TV spot on them recently, though it had understandably glossed over a few details.

"Yeah …?" Browbeat sounded doubtful.

Vicky snorted with amusement. "This is nothing like that. Our guys aren't guessing. They know their stuff. And you and me, we've been picked as the best people for the job. You know, in case you were wondering why we don't have anyone else along."

"That had crossed my mind," Browbeat confirmed. "But what if it's too much for us? What if shit goes sideways and one of them gets a lucky hit in? I mean, they always say, don't ever attack a Tinker in his base."

Did I ask this many questions? Vicky suspected she knew the answer to that one. "Chill. Just because we're the only visible ones, doesn't mean we're the only ones on site. We have backup. The big hitters are ready to come in and level the place if need be. It's just that we'd rather not do that to a building full of Leet's tech." The percentage chance of something bad happening if they did wasn't high, but it was in the double digits, and Vicky didn't like that.

"Okay, good to hear. So, what are we waiting for?" Browbeat was starting to bulk up, muscles bulging out everywhere as he exerted his power.

"The right time. In about three minutes, Uber will be distracted and Leet won't be watching the monitor screens. That'll give us enough time to bust in before they know we're here." She was seriously starting to wonder how she'd managed before joining this new team.

"Okay." He nodded, apparently accepting her words. "Hey, I've got an idea. Management said you've got a hydrokinetic on your team. Why don't they just flush the entire base out with water? Short everything out and neutralise Leet's stuff before we ever get inside?"

"Sources say Leet's stuff is likely to react unpredictably. Some of it might actually explode. This is the most effective, risk-free way of slapping the cuffs on them."

He shook his head. "How do they even know that?"

Vicky snickered. "Thinker bullshit is bullshit, I guess?"

Browbeat gave her a dirty look. She knew how he felt, but damn it was good to be in the know.

<><>​

Leet

The shell of the Pac-Man rover looked bare, almost skeletal, but that was because he didn't have the exterior hologram activated. He reclined on the laid-back pilot seat, fiddling with the settings of the teleport mechanism. When Pac-Man ate things, they had to go somewhere, after all, and there wasn't enough room in the chassis to store more than two or three people. Also, if they were in the chassis, they'd be in there with him, and he didn't much feel like being beaten up by the general public.

As it was, instead of a hover-field or anti-grav tech, he was going to have to depend on wheels to get around, because he'd used up a lot of the fancy options early on. Gloomily, he anticipated a future where he'd be hard put to build a simple walking mech without powering it via steam or something.

But that wasn't today. Today, he was working on an icon of the computer gaming age. Uber would be a 'ghost', herding the participants in his game around the force-field maze they were going to set up. Anyone 'eaten' by the Pac-Man rover would be teleported back to the basement of this building, where Uber and he would release them from, once the game was over.

He hummed loudly and tunelessly, ignoring the incessant beeping from the monitors in the corner. If it was something important, Uber would deal with it. He had Tinkering to do.

When the door to his lab smashed apart into several large chunks, followed by a flying figure, he was surprised, but not so much that he couldn't act. Leading with her fist, she flew directly at him. Straight at the mouth of the Pac-Man rover.

There was no time to form a coherent thought, much less work out a plan of action. But his finger was already on a very important switch.

He flicked it.

<><>​

Browbeat
A Minute Earlier

With her hands under his arms, Aeglea (he had no idea what the code-name meant, but she'd said it was a classical reference) carried Lawrence down to the side door of the building. He poised himself to kick it in, but she grabbed it and ripped it clear out of the frame.

Okay, then. She's definitely stronger than me. But he still had no idea who she might be. There just weren't enough independents running around for a teenage Alexandria package to go unnoticed.

But right now was not the time to start worrying about that sort of thing. Now was punch time.

He moved in through the now-open doorway, keeping low despite his current bulk. Aeglea drifted in beside him, a few feet off the ground. They headed down a corridor, alert for any sort of security measures. Leet wasn't exactly in the top tier of Tinkers, but it didn't take much to build something crude and nasty.

He spotted a security camera and pointed it out to Aeglea, who promptly ripped it out of the wall in a shower of sparks. Still, no alarm had been raised, which meant the gamer duo were either out and about, or just not paying attention.

When they came up to a door, Aeglea made a little half-bow and gestured to it; your turn. Grinning, he smashed a kick into it with all the power his current bulk permitted. It was enough; the door gave way and swung open, hanging half off one hinge.

Within was a combination living room/gaming area, which matched with the pencil-drawn building plan Aeglea had shown him (where she'd gotten it, he had no idea). Seated at a computer console was none other than Uber, headphones on, watching something on the screen. As Lawrence and Aeglea entered, he apparently noticed something amiss, because he turned his head toward them. His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to shout.

Already keyed up, Lawrence launched himself across the room and tackled the supervillain clear out of his chair. As fit and muscular as Uber was, Lawrence had packed on twice the bulk, and they slammed into the floor with bruising force. Well, bruising to Uber; Lawrence's skin-level force field cushioned him nicely, so he wasn't even winded.

As he flipped the villain over to secure his hands behind him, Lawrence registered Aeglea flashing across the room toward another door; behind that, as far as they knew, was where Leet did his Tinkering. At this point, it was a gamble whether or not Leet had heard them. To paraphrase a saying Lawrence had heard once, it was better to assume he had and be wrong than to assume he hadn't and be wrong.

The doors crashed into pieces, and Aeglea disappeared within. That is, she didn't fly out of sight; she flew into the room, and between one instant and the next … vanished.

"What the hell?" muttered Lawrence. Flipping the prepped zip-tie over Uber's hands, he ripped it tight. He was under no illusions that it would hold the man long, but hopefully it would be long enough.

Leaping to his feet, he headed toward the smashed-open door. "Aeglea?" he called out. "You okay?" While calling out might alert Leet to his presence, he absolutely wanted Aeglea to know he was there, in case she tried to punch his head off his shoulders by accident.

He didn't hear her voice calling out. What he did hear sounded so out of place that he didn't recognise it for a moment. But then he saw the massive rounded yellow thing trundling toward him, the huge mouth opening and closing rhythmically, and he knew what it was supposed to be.

wakka wakka wakka wakka wakka

Oh, shit. She wasn't kidding. "Pac-Man?" he said out loud, incredulously. "Really?"

It surged toward him, and he jumped backward out of the way. "Only the greatest video game hero of all time!" Leet's voice sounded from somewhere within. "Om nom nom, motherfucker!"

"What'd you do with Aeglea?" Lawrence dodged back again. Grabbing up a chair, he heaved it at the huge yellow monstrosity as it followed him. The mouth snapped at the flying piece of furniture; when it opened again, the chair was gone.

"Don't worry," Leet assured him, even as the Pac-Man turned to pursue Lawrence again. "She's safe. She only got eaten, that's all."

"What do you mean, 'only got eaten'?" Lawrence wrenched the wide-screen TV free of its attendant cords, and heaved that at the monster next. Just as the chair had disappeared, so did the TV.

"Hey, have a bit of respect," Leet complained. "Those things are expensive!"

"Really." Lawrence dodged back again. Trying to run around the monstrosity wasn't doing any good at all; it could swivel in place faster than he could get around it. "My heart bleeds. Bring Aeglea back, now!"

"What, so two of you can beat on me? Yeah, that's gonna happen." The Pac-Man trundled toward Lawrence again. "C'mere, you. 'Get in mah belleh!'"

"And that's a totally different franchise, you realise that, right?" Lawrence evaded another snap from the huge yellow mouth.

"Leet!" shouted a feminine voice as light flooded through the room. "Stand down! Browbeat, are you okay? Where's Aeglea?"

Lawrence turned to look, then had to shade his eyes. "Dunno! He said his thing ate her!" And that was when he had his brainwave.

"Fuck!" squawked Leet, the Pac-Man jittering between Lawrence and the newcomer.

In that moment, Lawrence took his opportunity. Darting over to where Uber was still struggling with his bonds, he picked the man up and heaved him bodily at the Pac-Man monstrosity.

The Pac-Man froze, just for half a second, long enough for Uber to vanish inside … a hologram? That's covered by a hologram? Lawrence didn't have time to think about it; gathering himself, he leaped after Uber, into the thing's mouth.

It didn't snap at him; instead, he passed through the hologram, just as Uber had, and landed in a cramped control cabin, on top of both Uber and Leet. Leet, still trying to push Uber off him, looked up as Lawrence loomed over him. "Oh, shit."

"Uh huh." Lawrence shoved Uber aside and took hold of Leet's shirt front. "Shut this thing down right the fuck now, and bring Aeglea back from wherever you put her. Or I'm going to see how many pieces I can break it into, with you inside."

"Okay, okay," whined Leet. "Geez, enough with the threats of violence." He flicked a switch, and the hologram faded away, the power winding down. "I give, I give."

Lawrence didn't release Leet as he looked around. "So where's Aeglea?"

<><>​

Vicky

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I flew right into the trap.

Vicky backed up to one end of the room—a basement, if she were any judge—and flew full-speed at the door. Six inches before she would've impacted it, she hit the force field instead. It didn't stop her instantly, but compressed, squeezing tighter and tighter until it rebounded, flinging her away into the centre of the room.

This didn't surprise her; exactly the same thing had happened, the last ten times she'd tried to bust her way out of the room. It did, however, irritate her. Kinetic redirection took her one big strength and turned it against her.

I guess Leet set it up so if he teleported a dozen people down here, they couldn't just break down the door and get away.

Her next big worry was about Browbeat. The guy was still a rookie, and he was facing Leet's tech all alone. God knew what else it could do. Though the chair and the big-screen TV (sadly, broken on impact) that had fallen out of midair where she'd appeared indicated there was something still happening. She just hated being left out of the action.

As soon as the guys realise that something's gone wrong, they'll move in. But it would be great to bust my way out of here before I actually need rescuing.

Drawing back her fist, she prepared to throw another punch at the door. It wouldn't do anything, she knew, but maybe she was wearing the field down or something—

—and then the force field vanished.

"Fuck yes!" Grabbing the door, she ripped it off its mountings and tossed it to one side, then flew up the stairwell thus revealed. It took just a few moments more of smashing doors until she found the same area where they'd seen Uber.

The room looked a little messier than before. A basic spherical framework on wheels sat in the middle of the room, with Uber, Leet and Browbeat all piled up on a built-in control seat. Kayden, off to one side and beginning to let her glow diminish, looked around as Vicky flew in. "Ah, there you were. I was beginning to wonder."

"Yeah, me too." Vicky pointed at the framework. "Please tell me that was supposed to be the Indiana Jones rolling boulder." Because if it isn't ...

"As if!" sputtered Leet. "Pac-Man's a classic!"

Vicky facepalmed. I got eaten by Pac-Man? Ames is gonna laugh herself sick.

<><>​

Later
Hebert Household

"Well, I have to admit, Browbeat came through with flying colours," Danny said, carrying the tray of drinks out to the living room. "He held up his end of the fight, and figured out the solution."

"While Vicky got eaten by Pac-Man," Annette said with a giggle as she took one. "Thanks, Mr. H."

"Now, now, be nice," Amy admonished her with a smirk. "He was probably just after some fast food."

"Oh, ha ha," Vicky retorted, rolling her eyes. "I just didn't expect a teleport, okay?" She accepted a glass as well. "Thanks."

Dinah raised her eyebrows. "I believe I might have mentioned something about being no-sold?"

"That you did, hon." Andrea reached over and ruffled her hair. "It was a good call. He supported his teammates, and pulled off a win."

Taylor raised her glass to the others in a toast. "Another villain gang off the streets, however temporarily. Next up, the Empire."

Janet and Kayden raised their glasses with everyone else. "The Empire."

There would be preparation to take care of, but Danny had faith in the team.

Together, as Dinah had put it, they were stronger than the sum of their parts.



End of Part Nineteen

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Twenty: A Man With a Gun

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



Friday Midday, March 11, 2011
Empire Eighty-Eight Safe House

Rune

"Well, this sucks," Tammi grumbled. "I coulda been playing video games. Why are we here again?"

Victor snorted, then leaned over to give her a light noogie. "Could be worse, munchkin. You could be stuck in school right now."

"Yeah, I could." She tried to slap his hand away, but missed. "And then I could be going out to the mall later with my friends. Why'd Kaiser have to have files on all of us at Medhall, anyway?"

"In case you'd missed it, our late boss was a little bit of a control freak," Othala pointed out. "Those files were encrypted. That's what gave us time to cut and run. Unfortunately, when you have someone like Dragon doing the decrypting, nothing lasts forever."

"It's not the end of the world," Crusader said, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "Arranging for new identities shouldn't be too hard. A little cosmetic surgery, and we all get to re-enter society again."

"That's definitely on the table," Krieg announced as he entered the room. "But in the meantime, we have a bigger problem to deal with."

"What, Purity?" Victor frowned. "I thought we were going to just write her off. Let her go her own way." He didn't mention what had happened to Hookwolf as a result of not doing that.

"Not Purity exactly." Krieg pulled out his chair and sat down. "Or rather, not only Purity. I'm becoming more and more convinced that there's a new team in town, one that operates out of the shadows, and very specifically doesn't show up to take the credit. And this team—I suspect—has managed to recruit her. Especially given that she baited Lung into chasing her on Tuesday night; a chase that culminated in a half-drowned Lung being picked up after an anonymous call to the PRT."

"So this new team doesn't even have a name?" Fenja spoke up, after having sat silently beside her sister for the duration of the meeting so far. Since Kaiser's death, both the twins had been subdued, as though they could've done something to save him.

"Not that I'm aware," Krieg confirmed. "But they have at least one hydrokinetic in their roster, as well as Purity, and they seem to believe that they've got the wherewithal to go after the villain gangs. The ABB, the Merchants, Coil, and Uber and Leet have all gone down to them, if I'm reading the signs right. Now, I suspect they'll be coming around to take another snipe at us. Which means we need to hit them harder first."

"Uh … one problem," Crusader said. "If they're all that, then they know who we've got on hand, and they're probably planning for each of us."

Krieg smiled. "Yes. I thought of that." Raising his voice, he called out, "You can come in now."

And the man and woman entered the room.

<><>​

Friday Evening, March 11, 2011
Kayden's Apartment

Taylor

I leaned back in my armchair and checked the domino mask, ensuring it wasn't about to fall off. Amy and Annette jockeyed for position in the other armchair, apparently trying to decide who was to be sitting on whose lap. It was kind of sweet, in my opinion; Amy had been reserved at first, but Annette had won her over to the point that they were inseparable. They still weren't at the stage of public displays of affection beyond hand-holding and lap-sitting yet, though. My guess was that Amy needed to take her time getting used to being in a romantic relationship, and Annette was respecting that.

The funny thing was, both Amy and Annette were also masked up. Amy was wearing a blonde wig, and they both had on dominos like I did. In fact, everyone in the apartment was wearing a mask of some sort. (Aster wasn't, but she was asleep in Kayden's bedroom).

This was because we were working to maintain secret identities with Browbeat for as long as possible. For this reason, Dad and Andrea were sitting this one out, so as to keep the number of potential clues as few as possible. Everything inside the apartment that could betray Kayden's name or the actual address had been carefully concealed.

Lisa raised her head. She was wearing a bright yellow sun-dress and matching mask, as far different from her purple skin-tight Tattletale costume as possible. "Incoming."

A moment later, there was a clatter as Vicky landed on the fire escape, carrying Browbeat. The window was already partially open; she pushed it all the way up and he climbed in.

As per the prior invitation, he was also masked up (despite the fact that he knew we knew his face) but otherwise wore casual clothing. I thought I detected a little musculature, but not ridiculous amounts. Or that could've been just him.

"Welcome, Browbeat," Kayden said. "I'm Evenstar. You already know Aeglea, of course, and you've met Management already." Dinah nodded at him from the sofa.

We'd decided that if Browbeat was going to meet the team, we'd need to brainstorm some names, if only to give ourselves some legitimacy in his eyes. Or rather; Lisa, Dinah and I had figured that out between ourselves. Thus, we'd picked names that weren't too terrible, even if some us weren't even capes.

"Hi," I offered. "I'm Random, and that's Athena." Lisa, also on the sofa, waved as I introduced her.

Annette perked up from where Amy was sitting across her lap. "Paladin here, and this is Nostrum." She gestured at Theo, who was sitting next to Dinah on the sofa. "That's Archive." Finally, she indicated Janet, who had chosen to sit back out of the way on a dining chair with her hand and stump in her jacket pockets. "And say hi to Storm Surge. She's the one who flooded Coil out, and took Lung for a swim."

We already knew this wasn't giving away any information the PRT didn't have, and of course they had no idea who she actually was.

"Uh … hi?" Browbeat looked around at the group of us. "You're all … well, mostly … kids?"

Annette snorted. "You're a kid. Wow, hasn't anyone told you that age isn't everything, especially when it comes to powers?"

The prompt comeback seemed to put him on the back foot, which … wasn't very surprising, actually. Annette had a way of doing that. He pushed his fingers through his hair and looked around at us. "I'm really bad with names," he confessed. "So I'll probably need to be reminded. But uh … you're Random, right?"

He was looking at me when he said this, and I nodded. It might've had something to do with the dice I had running over my knuckles at the time. "That's me. Dice-based precog. Catch." Taking one of the dice, I tossed it to him. "Three."

Awkwardly, he caught it, then looked questioningly at me. "Three?"

I nodded to the table he was standing next to. "Roll it. You'll get a three." I knew that because I'd rolled a three just before he showed up.

"Um, okay." He rolled, and the three pips came up, just as predicted. "Wow. That's kind of impressive."

"When I said, 'we have Thinkers', I actually meant it," Dinah reminded him. "So, any questions before we get started?"

"Uh …" Browbeat looked at Kayden. "I'm guessing you're the one who showed up while Aeglea and I were fighting Uber and Leet?"

"That's correct." Kayden pulled out a couple more dining chairs from around the table. "Please, sit down. Would you like a glass of water, or juice?"

"Neither at the moment, thanks." Browbeat sat. "So, what's this meeting all about?"

Sitting forward in my chair, I took up the tale. "We've taken the ABB capes off the board. Lung's presence was the only thing stopping the unpowered factions from fracturing along ethnic lines ... well, any day now. Likewise, what's left of Coil's forces are either in hiding, in custody or gone. The Merchants were hardly even a gang, but now the cops can hit their dealers and drug factories without worrying about Skidmark showing up. And thanks to you and your help, Uber and Leet are behind bars. Which means there's one gang left."

"The Empire Eighty-Eight." Browbeat proved he was at least listening. "But didn't a whole bunch of them get killed or captured? How many could there be left?"

I dropped the dice I was manipulating into the tray on my lap, scooped up two ten-siders, and rolled percentiles. Zero-nine. "Looks like nine," I said.

"What?" he exclaimed. "I thought they'd lost more than that."

"They've lost six so far," Lisa said didactically. "Two dead, three captured, and one who just … left."

"I heard a rumour about that," Browbeat agreed. "That was Purity, right?"

"Yes," Kayden said, deadpan. "That was Purity."

Everyone around the room, except for Browbeat, seemed to stop breathing. Would this be the deal-breaker? Would he excuse himself and go straight to the PRT, and confirm that Purity-now-Evenstar was working with our team?

"Huh," he said. "Well, gone is gone, I guess. But you're sure there's still nine left? That seems like an awful lot to me."

I met Lisa's eyes briefly. From the quirk of her brow, the hint had gone straight over his head. Dinah also looked subtly relieved, probably because her power had told her the same thing in a different way.

Picking up one of the ten-siders, I rolled it again casually. Chances that he figured it out and he's just being cagey, nine being high. "They were always the biggest cape gang in Brockton Bay," I reminded him, and scooped up the alphabet dice. The ten-sider was showing a zero. He was definitely clueless in the matter.

"Are those … letter dice?" he asked, getting up and coming closer to peer at them. "I didn't even know they were a thing."

"Neither did I, until I got my powers," I said. "Fun fact; thirty-sided dice totally exist."

"Learn something new every day." Frowning, he watched as I rolled. The letters read K-R-I-E, but he didn't have my perspective on the matter. "… Erik?"

"Krieg," I said, aware that Lisa had produced a pad and was writing this down. I took up the dice and rolled again. V-C-T-R. "Victor." O-T-L-A. "Othala." F-N-J-A. "Fenja." M-N-J-A. "Menja." C-R-S-D. "Crusader." R-U-N-E. "Well, that one was easy. Rune." N-G-H-T. "Wait … Night?"

"Yes," Lisa said immediately. "Ten bucks says your next roll is Fog."

"No bet." I rolled the dice. F-O-G-space. "Called it."

"And that makes nine," Lisa declared, stabbing a dot on the paper with her pen. "As though we needed confirmation."

"I could've done without Night and Fog, though," Kayden said, then chewed her lip briefly. "They're going to make this fight a whole lot harder."

Dinah's head came up. "And that's why Krieg brought them back into play. Because he's aware that we're out of other targets, and that we're likely to be focusing on them again."

Browbeat went back to his chair. "I wouldn't have believed you could name them all like that. But I don't even know who Night and Fog are, sorry."

"Ah; of course." Kayden glanced at Theo. "Archive?"

Primed for his role, Theo cleared his throat. "Are you aware of a group called Gesellschaft?"

"Sorry," Browbeat confessed. "No idea who they are, either."

"That's not surprising. They're not that well-known in the States. They're a neo-Nazi German organisation that triggers and brainwashes capes into working for the cause." Theo's voice was steady, though his tone betrayed his distaste. "They've had their hooks into the Empire Eighty-Eight since before Allfather died, putting Kaiser in charge. Krieg is their current representative; as such, he held a position of power in the Empire while Kaiser was alive, and has now succeeded him into the top spot."

"Wait." Browbeat tilted his head slightly. "Wouldn't Kaiser have had someone else nominated to take over in the event of his death?"

"He did." Kayden fielded that one. "Purity and Hookwolf."

"Oh. Oh, I see." Hookwolf's death had been dramatic as hell, to say the least. "Forget I asked. Anyway, what have a bunch of German neo-Nazis got to do with Night and Fog?"

"Everything," explained Theo. "Gesellschaft created them. They may look human, but they act more like aliens who've been given a quick training course. There's no moral core, no good side, nothing to appeal to. Just a bunch of programmed responses. They'll cut your throat then sit down to watch TV right beside your twitching body. Or rather, they'll look at the TV. Because that's what normal people do."

From the look on Browbeat's face, he was beginning to wonder what he'd gotten himself into. "What ... what are their powers?"

Theo nodded to acknowledge the question. "Night appears to be an ordinary person, a well-dressed woman, until nobody is looking at her. That's when she becomes a horrific murderblender with no discernible weak points. Switching between forms seems to heal all injuries. Fog, on the other hand, just turns into a cloud of fog. Intelligent, corrosive, murderous fog. Any questions?"

"Well, yes. How exactly are we supposed to fight people like that? And why us? Isn't that supposed to be up to the Protectorate and PRT?" Browbeat wasn't exactly panicking, but he didn't sound all that thrilled either.

Lisa put her finger up to catch his attention. "Remember Coil? How we took him down, last month? Just between you and me and everyone else in the room, he was a PRT strike squad commander. Now, if a supervillain could masquerade as a ranking officer in that building, how many low-ranking moles do you think the Empire could infiltrate the place with?"

Just for shits and giggles, I rolled the dice. "Five," I reported. "Or at least, that's how many we'll find in the end."

"And there you have it," said Lisa, not missing a beat. "Now—don't roll for this—what do you think the odds are that one of those moles won't report in if we tell the PRT everything we know, then sit back to let them handle it?"

Browbeat seemed to consider that. "Not very high?" he guessed.

"And the well-muscled young man in the first row wins a prize," Lisa declared. "If by 'not very high' you meant 'minimal to zero', that is."

"And as for how," Annette chimed in, "you see before you more Thinker chops than any given Protectorate team can muster in a month of Sundays. We know our enemy; we know who they are, where they'll be, how they'll react to our plans, and how to get to them before they realise they're looking in the wrong direction."

Theo's head came up, and a look of alarm crossed his face. "Uh … about that."

Lisa's eyes widened and her lips moved silently. Dinah was more direct. "What's up?"

His eyes found me. "What are the chances that the Empire has realised K-Evenstar is part of our team?"

"Shit!" Lisa jumped to her feet. My hand had found the dice, and they were already clattering to a halt by the time she managed to shout the next bit. "They'll be coming here as soon as it's dark!"

I glanced down at the dice in the tray. Two zeroes stared back at me. One hundred percent. Then I looked out the window, at the deepening dusk. "They know." My voice sounded weird in my ears.

"Archive, get Aster!" Dinah snapped. "Aeglea, the window. Storm Surge, perimeter. Who's closing in on us right now? Random, Athena, anything you can give me is good. Evenstar, check the corridor. Browbeat, go with Archive. Paladin, guard Nostrum. Everyone, prep for a fighting retreat! Move!"

Theo jumped to his feet and dashed down the corridor toward the rear of the apartment. Browbeat, apparently surprised by the rapid-fire commands, followed him on what looked like reflex, already bulking out.

My backpack was by my feet and I dumped my dice into it, retaining the tray and half a dozen d10s. Annette was already on her feet, pulling Amy out of the chair, while Vicky flew over to the window and Kayden hurried to the door.

There was a cushioned thud as Annette pulled the chair over onto its side, facing away from the door and window. "Get down," she told Amy, pushing her into a crouch so she was shielded by the chair. Going down next to the healer, Annette huddled over the top of her.

Janet breathed deeply, closing her eyes. I knew she could sense people through the water in their bodies, but how accurate it was and how far away she could sense someone, I wasn't sure. We hadn't spent time checking on that sort of thing, and now I intensely regretted the lack.

"Fliers," she reported. "Two of them. Three coming up the fire escape. Three in the corridor, coming this way."

Dinah ran through into the kitchen, and that was when we heard the rending, cracking noise coming from the back of the apartment.

<><>​

Crusader

Justin watched as the last of the sun disappeared over the western hills. He only had a few ghosts flying in formation around the slab of concrete that he was sharing with Rune, because they didn't want to get spotted before the ambush was in place. "I kinda feel bad about this," he confided.

"About what? That she killed Brad, or that she stabbed us in the back and joined a hero team? Get real," sneered Rune. "Kayden's got to learn. She's allowed to not play with us, but she can't go joining the opposition." She steered the slab up closer to the closed window in the side of the apartment building. "I rip the window out, you grab the kid. Got it?"

"We're not going to hurt the rug rat, are we?" He just wanted to make sure about that. While he wasn't the sort to get down on the floor and make funny noises at babies, Aster was kind of cute, and it wasn't her fault her mom had turned traitor.

"Of course not." If she was facing him, he figured he would've seen her eye-roll. "We're just gonna use her as leverage to make sure Kayden knows which side her bread's buttered." Moving to the edge of the slab, she traced a glowing rune on the window, making sure to get the frame as well as the glass. "Ready?"

He sent his ghosts in through the wall. "Ready—shit, there's someone in the room!"

"Fuck!" She exerted her power, tearing the window clear out of the wall and showing the room beyond.

Justin recognised Theo, despite the fact that the little chubster was wearing a domino mask; he'd clearly just picked up Aster when the ghosts came through the wall. With him was another guy, also a teenager, but ripped as fuck. This guy could give all the gym-bro's Justin had ever known lessons in definition.

Before Justin could adjust to the new situation, the new guy yelled at Theo to run, then vaulted through the window opening onto the slab itself. A couple of the ghosts reflexively stabbed at him with their spears on the way past but only scored shallow wounds; it looked like he had some kind of protective field around him.

One massive punch knocked Rune clear off the floating slab, while a backfist collided with Justin like a freight train. Head spinning, he found himself in free fall, looking up as muscle-boy tried to haul himself back in through the window. His ghosts were already swarming to grab him, and he had to consciously divert a couple to grab Rune as well.

Even though the ghosts were slowing him down, the ground was coming up way too fast.

This was gonna hurt.

<><>​

In the Corridor Outside

Krieg

Victor's voice came through James' earpiece. "Shit, they know we're here! Someone just took down Rune and Crusader!"

Scheiße. "Did they secure the package?"

"No package. I say again, no package."

"Is it a trap?" asked Fenja. She was still normal-sized, but there was room in the corridor to grow to half again as tall and smash the door in. "How could they know we were coming?" It was abundantly clear that Kaiser's demise had given her a distinct hit to her self-confidence.

"Does it matter?" Night studied her fingernails. "Traps are fun. They make the enemy gather in one place."

"Enough talk." Krieg gestured at the door. "Get that open."

Fenja began to grow …

<><>​

Janet

A clatter of dice across the room drew Janet's eyes as she huddled in her chair. What should I do? She couldn't see any bad guys, and didn't want to guess about people she couldn't see. And she had no idea why Taylor was rolling dice at this point.

Taylor looked up from the result she'd just rolled. "Victor's invulnerable!" she shouted.

"He's on the fire escape with Fog!" Lisa chimed in, half a second later.

Oh. That's why. God, these people are so much better than me at this.

"Incoming!" warned Kayden, then jumped back as the front door smashed in. She began to glow brighter and brighter. A couple of rounded objects bounced into the room, ending up in the middle of the floor, already beginning to trail plumes of smoke.

Shit, shit, shit. Grenades! They didn't have any water in them. What am I supposed to do with grenades?

Theo came running back up the corridor with Aster; Janet had no idea where Browbeat was, or what the noise had been. Did they go after Aster? That was probably a bad idea.

"Vicky!" yelled Taylor, leaping forward and sliding across the hardwood floor on her belly. Putting her hand down for traction, she spun end for end and kicked the two grenades across the floor in a way that looked like she'd practised for ages. They rolled and bumped to Glory Girl's feet, leaving a trail of smoke behind them.

"Fuck off!" Glory Girl shouted, putting a hand on Victor's face—Victor was right there, at the window!—and pushing; unfortunately, she couldn't seem to budge him. On the other hand, as strong as she was, he couldn't push past her. With her other hand, she grabbed up the grenades and tossed them out the window.

This was something Janet could help with. She reached out to Victor's body and tried to grab control of the water in it, to help Glory Girl push him back, but she couldn't get a grip on it. No matter how she tried to manipulate him, it didn't work.

Janet became aware of the sound of running water from the kitchen. Dinah had turned the sink on full, and water was gushing down the drain. That was water she could affect. But then she was distracted by the nine-foot-tall Valkyrie who came stomping into the apartment, bending to clear the door-frame. Shield in one hand, sword in the other, the newcomer was a fearsome sight.

… or was, right up until Taylor tossed a handful of small objects across the floor. Janet had just enough time to recognise them as plastic dice before they landed right beneath the supervillain's descending foot. Two went crunch under her weight immediately, but the other four performed admirably. Her foot skidded out from under her, and she let out a startled yelp as she lost her balance. With a sound like a saucepan chorus line, she landed heavily on her back.

Does that mean we're winning? Janet felt an unexpected surge of hope, which was just as quickly extinguished as Krieg himself stepped into the room. Immediately, she felt a tightness in her throat. She could breathe, but it was an effort, and moving took far more strength than she was capable of. Worse, at the far end of the room, a greyish cloud was boiling in through the window past Victor and surrounding Glory Girl. Is that Fog? I think that's Fog. Does he even have water in his body right now? Her power didn't seem to think so. Glory Girl appeared unharmed at the moment, but she wouldn't be able to hold her breath forever.

"Night, if you will!" Krieg's command was imperative, not to be ignored.

A cloaked figure darted in past him to where Theo was desperately trying to retreat down the corridor. Janet watched in horror as Night caressed his face, then dug her nails in, drawing blood. "Stupid," she remarked, as though discussing the weather. "You will lose. You will always lose."

As Night reached for Aster, Dinah spoke up from the kitchen. "No. You've. Already. Lost."

The Valkyrie on the floor rolled over and started to get up—Janet was pretty sure the hardwood floor would never be the same again—while Krieg pulled an efficient-looking pistol from a holster she hadn't seen, and pointed it at Dinah's head. "Silly little girl," he sneered. "We have you checkmated." A side-glance toward where Kayden was desperately trying to turn toward Night. "Once we have the baby in hand, your biggest hitter will be reminded of where her loyalties should lie."

Dinah stilled, but spoke defiantly anyway, her eyes turning toward where Fog still cloaked Glory Girl. "Water. Soluble."

The two words ignited a spark in Janet's mind. The water was still blasting into the sink; she grabbed it, pulling it into a mass she could use. But it wasn't enough. She needed more.

The rumbling was palpable before it ever became audible. Janet had never done this before, but there was always a first time. All the water in the building was hers to command, and she directed every drop toward this sink, these faucets. The pipes were not intended to take this kind of water pressure, and she could hear the rattling and hammering as she told them to man up and do their damned job.

Even Krieg was looking around as the building itself began to shudder, the sound of water rushing through pipes like distant thunder. Small objects danced on the floor and shelves. On his face, for the first time, Janet saw the stirrings of apprehension. Even Night had paused in her efforts to drag Aster out of Theo's arms.

"What's that?" Krieg asked. "Who's doing that?"

With the inevitability of a wave crashing onto shore, all the water arrived at once, erupting from the sink faucets and the plug hole alike. Janet guided it onto her targets, scooping up Krieg and the armoured Valkyrie and flushing them out through the open doorway. In the other direction, the wave smashed into Night—dividing neatly around Theo and Aster—and washed her toward the open window. It briefly sluiced over Glory Girl, then hit Victor full in the chest and pushed him back through the opening. Night followed after him, squirted through the window like a melon pip, then the wave receded.

Dinah's suggestion had worked; the water had indeed engulfed Fog and removed him from around Glory Girl, leaving her dry as the water pulled back again. Fog himself was a dark stain of pollution in the water. Janet sent a tendril into the bathroom and flushed the contaminated liquid down the toilet.

As Glory Girl slammed the window shut and Janet sent a tendril of water to close the door, Kayden's glow faded and she ran to Theo. "Are you alright?" she demanded; Janet couldn't quite tell which of the children she was asking the question of. "Did she hurt you?"

"I-I'm fine," Theo stammered. "She didn't hurt Aster."

"I'm here, I'm here!" Browbeat stumbled down the corridor from behind Theo. His hands and front were covered in brick dust and what looked like blood. "Is everyone okay?"

"I think we're good," Taylor answered, sitting up. She scrambled over to retrieve the dice that had survived. "What happened to you?"

"And what did you do with Tall, Dark and Nazi?" asked Annette, helping Panacea up from where she'd upended an armchair to protect the healer.

"I fell out the window and had to climb back in. It's harder than it looks." Browbeat looked around at the damage. "Tall, Dark and Nazi?"

"Krieg and Valkyrie woman." In the aftermath of the action, Janet felt very tired. "I washed them along the corridor, down the stairs, and out into the street."

"Fenja," Lisa supplied. "Menja was probably on the fire escape."

"I don't care about their names." Janet set her jaw. "I just wanted them away from me."

"And you did real good." Dinah came over and gave her a quick hug. "You saved, uh, Aeglea's life for sure."

It took Janet a moment to remember that they were all going with different cape names for Browbeat's benefit. "Right, well, you gave me the hint." She drew in a deep breath and looked around at the others. "Sorry I didn't do something sooner. I guess I'm just not the fighting type."

"Hey. It's okay." Glory Girl put her hand on Janet's shoulder. "I would've been screwed pretty soon, so I'm glad you worked through it."

"So what happens now?" asked Amy. "Should we be preparing for another attack?"

<><>​

Taylor

"No." Lisa and Janet spoke at the same time.

Lisa glanced at Janet and got a nod in return. "Some of them got hurt this time around," she said. "And Krieg isn't sure who the hydrokinetic is. Also, Storm Surge just no-sold Fog hard. They're going to be pulling back and regrouping until they can find him. Then they'll try to figure another approach."

"In the meantime, we need to relocate Evenstar, Archive and uh, the baby," Dinah said. "We screwed up badly, here."

"I'll say." Annette still looked and sounded more than a little shaken. "I've seen your Thinker work. You guys are frankly better than this. How about next time we don't hold a meeting in a place that the Empire Eighty-Eight knows about?"

By now, Kayden was holding Aster securely, settling her down again. "I am sincerely forced to agree. We're going to need a place to live, until the repairs are complete and I'm unlikely to get unwanted visitors anymore." Her eyes found me, and they were full of worry. "I hate to ask for a favour like this, but …"

"I'll call Dad," I said immediately. "Just hang on one second." Climbing to my feet, I rolled the four d10s on the table. Chances of the Empire being able to track Kayden down to my house.

The numbers came up 7, 3, 9 and 0. Zero point three nine seven percent.

"Well?" asked Kayden, searching my expression. "Can you find a safe place for us?"

I smiled. "Yes." Our sofa would fold out into a bed, and there was a camp bed somewhere in the basement that we could probably dust off. As for Aster, I was pretty sure her crib would fit in the back of Dad's car.

Putting them up might be a little cramped until we got things sorted out, but I could live with 'cramped'.

<><>​

Later
Empire Eighty-Eight Safe House

Crusader

Justin rubbed his arm and flexed his fingers. There was still a little residual soreness, but not as bad as it could've been. Broken arms sucked. So did broken collarbones. Fortunately, Othala had been able to fix both issues.

"Well, that was a shit-show from beginning to end." Victor said it first, but only because Justin didn't feel entirely comfortable about antagonising Krieg with his failures just yet. "We should've had the drop on them from the beginning, but they were waiting for us. Tammi's still got a concussion because of whoever it was that punched her, Fog got flushed down the crapper, and they've got Leviathan's little sister on their damn team!"

"Might've been Theo," Justin offered. "Which would make him Leviathan's little brother. You know he's prime third-gen material."

"It. Wasn't. Theo." Krieg set his jaw as he snarled the words. "It had to be the girl in the kitchen, the one who turned on the water. She was the hydrokinetic. I would wager rather a lot of money on it."

Fenja raised her head. "Well, whoever it was, we'd be stupid to take them on near any source of water. Maybe we should've paid more attention to how Lung was taken down." She evidently had vivid memories of being washed down three flights of stairs and out onto the street, which would have been less problematic than Fog's experience only by a matter of degree.

"I thought the reports said that water main was busted open by Purity," Justin protested.

"Well, clearly the fucking thing wasn't!" Victor snarled the words as he jumped to his feet. He began to pace across the room and back. "This team of theirs has been hiding most of their strength in the shadows instead of flaunting it from the rooftops like any normal bunch of newbies would. I wondered how they managed to talk Kayden onto their team, how they turned her against Max."

Justin frowned. He thought more of Kayden than that. She wasn't one to jump ship because of powerful potential teammates. "Not sure what you're referring to, there. I thought the thing with Max was because of that other kid of his he was talking about."

"Do I have to fucking spell it out for you?" Victor stared at him, then around at the others. Othala was busy with Rune, the Biermann sisters were simply sitting and watching the show, Night and Fog were immersed in their own little world, and Krieg was observing without adding commentary.

"Maybe you should." Justin spread his hands. "Because I seem to recall how Kayden was stabbed by Max, just before he got struck by lightning. Then that idiot Hookwolf sent Cricket to murder her in the hospital, and when that didn't work out, tried to do it himself. Now he's dead, and I'm not exactly surprised that Kayden might not want anything to do with us. You tell me why she might be interested in joining a team—that isn't us—with at least one powerhouse on it."

Victor paused, and Justin thought for a moment that he'd accepted the logic. Then he shook his head. "No. The Kayden I know would never turn against us. Walk away, maybe. Backstab us, her friends, not in a thousand years."

"And if she felt endangered by us?" Justin stared at his teammate. "Hell, what proof do we have that she was even going to come after us? We attacked her in her goddamn home."

"It was the only logical thing to do," Night said unexpectedly. Fog said nothing. He'd barely spoken since rejoining them after the fight. "She was a danger. She is a danger. Dangers must be eliminated, or curbed."

"No, you don't get it." Justin waved his hands in the air. "That's what we are to her now. We came after Aster. There is nothing more precious in the world to her. Even if she wasn't going to work with that other team against us, she probably will now." Running his hands over his face, he slumped back into his seat. "I knew this was a bad idea, but I didn't realise just how bad until just now. I mean, holy fuck."

"You had one job." Krieg's tone was implacable. "You and Rune. How could you have failed so thoroughly? One non-combatant and one combatant, and you still could not overcome them?"

"You weren't there!" shouted Justin, jumping up. "You were looking to do your grand entrance through the front door like a conquering fucking hero, after the rest of us had mopped up the resistance for you! And that musclebound asshole came for us, instead of backing off like a normal person! If he'd backed off, I could maybe have dogpiled him. But he was on us before they could stick him more than a couple of times, and he didn't even seem to notice. Punched out Tammi altogether, and what he gave me was no love-tap either." He rubbed his jaw in remembered pain.

"Maybe you should've had more ghosts out," Victor said flatly. "We could've avoided this whole shit-show then."

Justin swung toward him. "You specifically told me not to," he snapped. "We didn't want to tip anyone off ahead of time, remember?"

"Alright, alright." Krieg raised his voice in command. "Quiet down. Rehashing our mistakes isn't going to fix them. We need to figure out what we're going to be doing, going forward. Crusader, how sure are you that Purity will be coming after us now?"

Taking a couple of seconds to breathe deeply and still the harsh words that wanted to come out, Justin thought about the question. "Either that, or she'll be looking to leave town with Aster as soon as possible, and probably take Theo with her."

"You sure?" Victor frowned. "She's likely to get something out of Max's holdings that weren't connected with him being Kaiser. And so's the little fat shit, for that matter."

"I doubt she would stay around for the reading of the will," Krieg decided. "Max made it very clear that he was making the other child his main heir. The Campbell girl." He didn't bother hiding his distaste for this course of action.

"Right," agreed Justin. "So yeah, she's either going to cut her losses and bolt, or stay in town and come after us for trying to grab Aster. The will isn't gonna come into it."

"Okay, so let's assume she stays." Victor rubbed his chin. "We need a way to neutralise both her and that damned hydrokinetic."

"I have one way," Krieg offered. "Do you still have your sniper rifle?"

"Whoa, wait, what?" protested Justin. "Are we just going straight to 'murder'? Is that what we're doing, now?"

Krieg glared at him, and Justin felt a tightening in his throat. He wasn't sure if it was real or psychosomatic, but he didn't like it either way. "When Purity hits us with her blast, exactly how much restraint do you think she'll be using?"

Fuck. Justin knew he was between a rock and a hard place, and he liked that even less. "Well, when you put it that way …"

"Good," said Krieg. "It's settled, then."

As Krieg turned to talk to Victor, Justin slumped in his chair. How the fuck do I get out of this?

<><>​

Hebert Household

Taylor

With one final grunt of effort, I helped Dad get the sofa bed unfolded. "There," I panted. "Now I'll just grab some sheets and make it up for you."

"I really do appreciate this." Kayden gave us both a smile. "I know how much of an imposition it must be."

"No trouble at all," Dad assured her. "We've put up friends and family before. There's a half-bath under the stairs, and the bathroom upstairs is the third on the right." He turned to Theo. "Will you be okay in the basement with the camp bed? There's not much room for anything more than Aster's crib up here with the bed folded out, I'm sorry."

"I'll be fine, Mr Hebert." Theo ducked his shoulder. "At least I know you're not doing it deliberately, to 'toughen me up'." He even went so far as to make finger-quotes. "So yeah, I appreciate it."

Dad shook his head. "I've seen the dark side of your father so I'm not going to do you the disservice of pretending that sort of thing couldn't happen." He slapped Theo on the shoulder and addressed both of them. "So, if you've got any questions or problems, you bring 'em straight to me or Taylor."

"We will." Kayden took on a concerned expression. "With my apartment out of commission until the repairs are done, we're going to need a new place for the team to meet and make plans. Especially since I don't intend to move back there until the Empire Eighty-Eight is no longer a threat. Is it okay to meet here, or should we find another location? I would totally understand if you didn't want a bunch of heroes converging on this location every few days."

I had my own opinions, but this was Dad's decision. He frowned and rubbed his lips with his thumbnail as he thought about it. "Seven kids and two adults," he mused.

"Three of whom already live here right now," I added helpfully.

"Very true. And Andrea's apartment is even smaller than yours." Dad paused, his head coming up. "Shit! Andrea! If Annette was there, they might try to grab her next!"

I delved into my pocket for a couple of dice as I eyed the mattress. It was flat enough. "Annette was keeping her head down behind an armchair, protecting Amy, so they might not have even noticed her."

Chances that Andrea and Annette are in danger of being kidnapped by the Empire Eighty-Eight.

The dice rolled and bounced on the springy cloth, but eventually came to a halt. 5-1-4-1.

I let out a breath. "One point five one four percent that the Empire will try to grab them."

Dad similarly sighed with relief. "That's good. That's really good. So long as she stays quiet and doesn't draw their attention, she should be safe."

Kayden nodded. "Of course, the best way to keep her and Annette safe is to deal with the threat once and for all." There was an edge to her voice that promised mayhem to the Empire Eighty-Eight.

"Yeah." I scooped up the dice and looked around the room. "It'll be crowded, but we can make it work. So, you think they'll keep coming at you?"

"Absolutely." There was no doubt in her voice. "They know they've made an enemy of me now. It's me or them, and I intend to make it me."

Dad put a hand on her shoulder. "Damn right."

<><>​

Browbeat

"Report."

Lawrence stood in front of Deputy Director Renick's desk. His wounds had been healed by Nostrum and he was dressed in civilian clothes, with the obligatory domino mask for form's sake. "Well, sir," he said. "It's been a day."



End of Part Twenty

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Twenty-One: Backlash

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

[A/N 2: The Empire Eighty-Eight appear in this, and slurs will be uttered. Said slurs are in no way the opinion of the author.]

[A/N 3: Apologies for how late this came out. It's been a horrendously hectic month.]


Taylor

The council of war opened in our living room. With the sofa bed tucked away, Kayden sat on the sofa with Aster on her lap, with Janet and Andrea beside her. Arms folded, Dad leaned against the wall, while Amy and Annette claimed the armchair and the rest of us fetched chairs from the kitchen. At one year old, Aster was apparently following the conversation alertly, but I wasn't betting on her staying awake the whole way through.

Browbeat wasn't here for this, mainly because it was one thing to show up to one apartment in a building full of them, and totally another to actually go to someone's house in the suburbs. The address of Kayden's apartment we could obscure, but it was a lot harder to do with our house. While we could've technically done something like blindfolding him, that would've alerted both him and the PRT that something was wrong with their plan.

Even Lisa, as scornful of the PRT's general intelligence as she was, had conceded they might begin to suspect that we were on to him, so it was easier all around to simply not tell him.

Annette opened the discussion. "This is bad. And by 'bad', I mean 'catastrophic'. The Empire Eighty-Eight knows that we exist, and they've picked up valuable intel on our capabilities. Worse, they've decided to eliminate us as a threat by direct action."

Lisa poked a finger in the air at that. "We can't exactly say we didn't draw this down on ourselves, at least partially. We took down Coil in his own base, and attacked the Merchants in their flophouse. Worse, we got complacent, expecting that we could keep chipping away at the gangs while they floundered around blindly."

"I don't care." Kayden thrust out her jaw. Her features were fairly mild, but she managed to make it work. "If you were going to refer to the whole thing about capes not attacking each other at home, I couldn't care less. But they specifically went after Aster. And if they've tried it once, they'll try again. I've only got one answer for that."

Andrea reached across behind Janet to squeeze Kayden's shoulder. "That's the problem in a nutshell. We're going to have to come back at them with the same amount of dedication, because otherwise they're going to capture or kill some or all of us before we know it. And the more they know about us, the harder they can hit us."

Vicky grimaced. "I'm all for punching Nazis, but this sounds uncomfortably like we're at war with them. Not just ordinary cape-versus-cape antagonism but full-on kill-or-be-killed war."

"That's the situation as I understand it," Dad agreed. "When you've got two sides and at least one of them can't be persuaded not to keep attacking the other side, then you have either a massacre or a war on your hands. Now, from what I can see, you've got three options in front of you."

Kayden lifted her chin. "If any of those options is 'surrender', then we've got two options, not three. Just saying."

"Hardly." Dad straightened up from where he was leaning against the wall. "I'm union, remember? We don't surrender, we just retreat when necessary. The three options I can see are simple, but none of them are going to be fun. First option, we go dark. Cease all operations, let them punch fog for a week or two, then hit them from behind again. Second option, we come back at them just as hard as they came at us. Third option, we apply for affiliate Protectorate membership and dare them to come at us when we've got the full weight of the PRT behind us."

Amy shook her head. "Just getting affiliate status won't be enough. Aunt Jess—Fleur—was murdered by some kid who was looking to join the Empire. He cried in court and everything. Once he got out of juvey, they welcomed him straight into their ranks. Nobody outside New Wave cared. We'd have to go for full membership to get the level of protection you're talking about, and that just isn't going to work for us."

"No, it's not," Janet agreed. "I'm truly not comfortable with the PRT finding out exactly how powerful I am, or being able to tell me what to do and where to go. And I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one." She glanced sideways at Kayden.

"No, you're not." Kayden bounced Aster on her lap. "Right now, even if the PRT suspects that it's me—and I'm sure some of them do—the way we're going about it gives them enough of an excuse to pretend it isn't. And going under the radar instead of broadcasting to everyone what we're doing lets me get stuff done that I couldn't do before when I was trying to go hero."

"And going dark is problematic," Dinah added. "Victor isn't a Thinker like me or Lisa or Taylor, but he's got lots of skills from lots of places, and now that he knows about us, he'll be trying hard to track us down before we can regroup and come back at them."

Lisa nodded. "Yeah. Because even if we did want to stand down and leave them alone, they'd never accept or believe it. We're a danger to them and they are going to keep pushing. Taylor?"

I already had dice in my hand, rolling in the small tray. "Chances that they find us before the week is up … fifty-seven point nine one three percent."

Theo sighed. "Yeah, I can totally see that. And Lisa's right, of course. The Empire's whole mentality is based around attacking anything it sees as a danger, so they think everyone else thinks that way. They can't imagine anyone as powerful as we've shown ourselves to be just standing down voluntarily, so even if we did it sincerely—even if I personally told them, as Kaiser's son—they wouldn't believe it for a second."

"Maybe I'm being naïve here," Vicky ventured, "but wasn't Kaiser the lynchpin—hah—behind the Empire Eighty-Eight? With him gone, with Kayden defected, with Hookwolf dead and Alabaster and Cricket and Stormtiger captured, won't the rest of the gang … well, fall apart? They've lost a good chunk of their heavy hitters, and as much as I despise Kaiser, he was charismatic as he— as heck."

"He was." Kayden gave her an approving look for the amendment of her language. "He was the reason so many capes joined. But he was also the reason they moved on, once they'd had a year or so to realise that he was a self-absorbed narcissist." She smiled wryly, and not a little sadly. "It took me a little longer to pick up on that aspect of his personality, unfortunately."

Dinah nodded. "But they'll stick together for the moment because Krieg is making the effort. He's not the leader Kaiser was, but they're also already there, so there's a little inertia already in place. The reason he's doing this is because the Empire is a pipeline for Gesellschaft to funnel drugs and weapons and capes into and out of the States, and if they lose Brockton Bay as a convenient port of entry, things get a lot harder for them."

Silence fell over the room as we all digested that information. It wasn't a revelation as such; I'd kind of known most of it already. But to have it presented so baldly was a minor shock to the system. Worse, Gesellschaft wasn't 'just' a gang. Per Theo's information from earlier, they made capes, then brainwashed them into some semblance of loyalty. I didn't want that happening to any of us.

Annette cleared her throat. "So … just to float a proposition … what happens if Krieg is taken out of the equation?"

Dad glanced at her sharply. "I hope you're not proposing assassination. They might be going for blood, but we shouldn't be."

"It might be the only way." Kayden lifted her chin as he looked her way. "Yes, I get it, we're trying to be heroes. But if we hamper ourselves too much, we give them the leeway to win." She met his unrelenting gaze. "Okay, fine. Suppose we took him out of the picture non-lethally? Handed him over to the PRT and by some bizarre course of events, they actually managed to keep him? What happens then?"

I reminded myself that Kayden loved Aster fiercely, and Krieg had almost managed to have the infant kidnapped. Kayden's current ire toward him probably didn't reflect her usual state of mind. At least, not from what I'd seen from her. Squealer and Lung had survived their encounters with her, anyway.

"Hmm." Dinah frowned deeply. "I've just done a check. Asked a question. 'If Krieg is no longer available to lead the Empire Eighty-Eight in Brockton Bay, who is the next best choice for leader?' Menja and Fenja are powerful enough, but they aren't leaders. Neither is Othala; her mindset leans more toward support. Rune is a believer, but she's too young and she lacks the family connections. Crusader thinks he's got a shot, but he'd be a terrible leader, mainly because he's only used to telling his ghosts what to do. Night and Fog can follow someone else's plan, but on their own they display a staggering lack of intuition and flexibility. The only real contender is Victor."

"Bingo," agreed Lisa. "Like you said before, he's got all the skills. He could totally keep that herd of Nazi cats heading in the same direction, if Krieg got captured. But if he goes ..."

I rolled the dice. "If both Krieg and Victor were out of the picture, there's a sixty-one point seven five two percent chance that the rest of the Empire would fragment within the week." They clattered again. "Within the month, ninety-six point four one four percent."

"So we need to take down both Victor and Krieg," Vicky concluded. "Not impossible, but not easy either. Krieg's got that dam— that darned can't-touch-me Shaker effect going on, and if Victor's going into a fight, he's likely to get Othala to power him up. And we've got no real way of knowing what she's giving him until he shows it off, and by then it's too late to plan around it."

Theo shrugged. "Hit her first. She can't protect herself with her powers, and the effect drops if she's unconscious. I was there when they tested that out. Father insisted on it."

"This is getting more complicated by the second," Andrea objected. "First it was just Krieg, but now it's Othala, Victor and Krieg?"

Annette shrugged. "Othala is a force multiplier, mom. But she doesn't need to be captured, just put out of the fight so she can't reinforce Victor while we're trying to take him down. She should be the easiest, and Krieg the hardest. Victor won't be easy, either. Physically, he's only a guy, but he's a really skilled guy, so we can't afford to get complacent with him."

"Definitely," agreed Lisa. "Most of us are pretty darn squishy as well. I can outthink him, but he can punch my face in. In fact, the only really punchy one among us is Vicky."

Janet took a deep breath. "If it comes down to it, I can immobilise him. You know how much I dislike using my powers on people, but I'll give him a full-body muscle cramp before I'll let him hurt any of you."

"No," Dinah said thoughtfully. "If we're going to pull this off, we need to make a coordinated move before Victor figures out what we're doing and devises a counter. We also have to assume that they'll have all water sources locked down so you can't pull off Operation Building Tsunami all over again. So, they all need to go down at the same time, and Vicky has to get Victor and Krieg out of there. Nobody else can reach Krieg, Janet, so you're going to have to take him down. Can you reliably lower his blood pressure so that he faints?"

"Remember how I said I'm not comfortable with using my powers on people?" Janet gestured with her hand. "I'm really uncomfortable with using my powers on the organs people are using to stay alive. I can make water go from zero pressure to beyond firehose in less than a second. If I gauge this wrong, I could pop his head like a grape. Or his heart."

"And nothing of value was lost," murmured Annette without moving her lips. Amy, on her lap, elbowed her gently. "Okay, fine, popping Nazi skulls is off the menu. It's a pity you can't …" A moment later, she sat up, eyes going wide. "Wait, I bet you can!"

"Can what?" asked Andrea. "And I will remind you, young lady, that we've already had the talk about when and where it's appropriate to pop your enemies' skulls like grapes. Do I need to go back over that?"

Annette rolled her eyes. "No, Mom," she said with an exaggerated sigh. "But what I was saying was, what if Janet did what I said she could maybe do to Armsmaster that one time. Fill his bladder so full that all he can think about is how bad he has to pee."

"Just so you know, bladders can burst too," Dad cautioned her.

"Yeah, but he's not gonna die instantly, or even before Amy here gets her hands on him." Annette rubbed her head affectionately alongside Amy's. "And once she does that, it's lights out."

"Well, I could do that, I suppose," Janet nodded thoughtfully. "It would be a lot more survivable than an explosive brain hemorrhage. But how are you going to deal with Victor and Othala while I'm doing that?"

Lisa smirked, and Dinah high-fived her. Observing this, I picked up my letter dice, ready to roll. "Well, first we have to figure out what Victor's going to be doing."

They clattered in the tray. My eyes widened as they came to rest on the letters S-N-P-R. "Oh."

<><>​

Director Piggot's Office

Browbeat

Lawrence liked to watch people, mainly so that he could figure them out for future reference. He liked to think he could understand most people, at least superficially. Director Piggot, though, came across as either extremely calm or extremely pissed, or maybe both. Irritation seemed to be her ground state, but he didn't think it would be smart to make any kind of reference to that.

"I've read your report, and Deputy Director Renick's attached notes," she said. These were the first words she'd spoken since curtly inviting him to sit down.

He wasn't sure how to answer that. She wasn't giving him any kind of signals; did she want an excuse for how badly it had gone, or for him to shut up and listen? In the end, he essayed a hesitant cough, to see how she reacted.

"Did you have something to add?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Uh, no, ma'am." He was relieved that she'd invited the response, but not so thrilled that he had to answer in the negative. "All my observations are there in the report."

Piggot put her hand flat on the Manila folder apparently holding the report. "I've read your observations. Now I'm interested in your thoughts and assumptions. We already know that the apartment was leased by Kayden Anders, widow of Max Anders, who we now know was Kaiser. From what you saw of Ms Anders, do you believe she could be Purity?"

Lawrence frowned, thinking hard. "I didn't see her powers in action. The most impressive power use that happened there, as far as I know, was Storm Surge literally washing the villains out of the building."

"Understood." The Director changed tack then. "Did Storm Surge give any indication as to why she's not eager to use her powers? More to the point, do you think she might be open to recruitment by the Protectorate?" She didn't sound eager about such potential recruitment; more like it was a box she had to tick off.

"Not really, no, and I honestly could not tell you, one way or the other." Lawrence figured openness was the best policy there. More to the point, he doubted any good would come out of trying to lie to the Director. "I got the impression she was uncomfortable about having me in the group. She didn't look suspicious of me, just … touchy around strangers."

"I see." Her lips tightened slightly. "Do you believe it is safe for you to rejoin the team after that near-debacle? From your description, the Empire was out for blood."

He drew a deep breath. "And yet, they were driven away. Literally within seconds of the team realising there was a potential problem, they'd verified it and formed a threat assessment. Anyone else would've been caught flat-footed when the door got kicked in. The one they called Management was right on top of it from start to finish."

"So, you think this team has the capability to defeat the Empire Eighty-Eight in a straight cape battle, despite having fewer combat-capable capes?" Her tone evinced a level of mild disbelief.

He paused, thinking, before he answered. "My presence may have tipped the balance in this instance, ma'am, but my impression was that they don't normally do straight cape battles. Their hand was forced this time, by the Empire. From what I could tell, their standard MO is to use their Thinkers to analyse the situation ahead of time and send in the capes most likely to succeed at a particular endeavour. The Uber and Leet thing, for instance. I thought Aeglaea was going to be the primary hitter while I backed her up, but as it turned out, she was there to act as a distraction until I could get in the right position to beat them both."

Piggot nodded slowly as she digested his words. "That could be a worthwhile strategy, though I'm still personally wondering if that will allow them to defeat the Empire in detail, as opposed to merely driving them off."

"I honestly don't know, ma'am, but considering how well they operated even when they were seriously on the back foot?" Lawrence shrugged. "I wouldn't make any bets against them, not once they've had the chance to make solid plans to hit back."

Her gaze hardened. "You believe that's what they're going to do?"

"Evenstar dotes on her child. So does everyone else in the team." He paused, searching for words. "I mean, the kid's a cute enough little tyke as babies go, so I kind of get it. The Empire made a solid effort at kidnapping her, so they could blackmail Evenstar into surrendering. Which means that whatever rulebook they were still playing by, they've just torn up and thrown in the fire. Even if the team were inclined to back down now, I don't think they can do so safely. Krieg and the others made that plain enough."

"Granted, yes." The Director nodded to acknowledge his point. "However, do you think it's possible for this shadow team to devise a plan to take down the Empire? Even missing six members including Kaiser, the Empire's still got a formidable lineup."

Lawrence frowned, thinking. Eventually, he nodded. "If anyone's got a shot at it, they do. I didn't even see most of them in action, but the four Thinkers I saw doing their thing—Management, Random, Athena and Archive—worked together like a well-oiled machine. They're really good at what they do. And even though they were recruiting me for muscle, they've still got at least three heavy hitters that I know of, and maybe more that I don't."

"Hmm." Piggot tapped the folder again, her neatly trimmed nail making a gentle thap sound on the cardboard. "Thank you for your insights. Let us know when they contact you again."

After a moment, Lawrence realised that was her version of telling him the interview was over. "Ah, right. I'll be sure to do that." He got up from the chair.

"Good. Close the door on the way out." She had the folder open and was reading the contents again as she spoke.

"Yes, ma'am." He did as he was told; outside, in the corridor, he heaved a deep sigh.

He wasn't sure when (or even if) they'd contact him again, but it was for damn sure not going to be boring.

<><>​

Director Piggot

Emily browsed through the report again, focusing on the capes making up the mystery team.

Management organises people, Random rolls dice for precognition, Athena deduces conclusions, and Archive knows about things. It's a versatile setup. She could see how they'd done well so far. And for the heavy hitters, they've got a Blaster, a Shaker and an Alexandria package. Melee, ranged precision and area effect. More versatility.

It was an enviable lineup. For all her dislike of capes, she'd seen for herself how well they performed under competent direction. She strongly suspected that Athena and Random would be invaluable additions to WEDGDG, if they could somehow be recruited into that organization. Archive and Management would be less so, though their powers would still be useful to the PRT in a consultancy role.

Absent Browbeat pulling off a miracle, they were unlikely to do any of that, so their role seemed destined to remain as it was: a massive pain in her ass.

<><>​

Rune

"The question is," Victor mused, "how do we draw them out? They actually have a grasp of strategy beyond the usual thuggery espoused by most cape teams. And from their performance to date, their Thinkers are somewhat competent."

Crusader stepped forward, holding up a finger and opening his mouth.

Krieg grimaced. "You're not wrong. And somehow, I don't think challenging them to a showdown on Lord Street like in a cowboy movie will work. So think of something that will."

Shutting his mouth and lowering his finger, Crusader stepped back again.

"So long as they've got a moment to think, they'll be able to react intelligently." Menja frowned as she considered her own words. "I saw them grab the initiative back from us the instant they had an opening. We can't give them time to think. We have to make them react on an emotional level."

"The redheaded woman," Krieg said flatly. "She was masked, but there can't be too many short redheads that were associated with Max Anders. Max was obsessed over her. He had all her details—including where she lives. If we take her, they'll have no choice but to dance to our tune. And while we're pretending to negotiate a ransom, Victor can be lining up the shot."

"Which means we can't do this in Somer's Rock, unless I shoot Purity on the way in or coming out," Victor mused. "Also, I spy another difficulty. How realistic would it be for us to show up at a negotiation without me there to do the negotiating? And how suspicious would it be for me to not be there at all? Purity knows I have a sniper rifle."

Tammi finally had something to add to the discussion. "So, we don't do Somer's Rock. We don't do a negotiation at all."

Krieg tilted his head. "Go on."

Shit. She'd expected someone else to take up the idea. "Um … when we go to this woman's house … she's got a daughter, right? We grab both of them, but we let them get an SOS off to their friends. But when Purity shows up, we're still inside and Victor's outside with the sniper rifle." She made a finger-gun. "Bang."

Victor blinked. "I … that could actually work. Okay, then. We need to work out details. The redheaded woman was masked, so that means she's probably a cape. Did anyone see what her powers were?"

There was a pause. "Don't look at me," muttered Crusader. Tammi got the strong impression he was still pissed off at being punched off her platform by Mr Muscle Beach 2011. Seriously, the guy could've outbulked Hookwolf.

Krieg frowned. "I didn't see her use any, but that doesn't mean much. It could be that she's a low-level probability enhancer and just makes her teammates luckier, or something of that sort."

Othala nodded. "It would definitely explain why they've pulled off as many wins as they have. Nobody could maintain that level of cooperation and integration without some sort of cape power helping them out behind the scenes."

Tammi knew what she wasn't saying out loud. Even at his best—and his best had been pretty good—Kaiser had never been able to keep all the capes in the Empire pointing in the same direction at the same time. After a while, he'd stopped pretending to even try. He'd just let them go their own way and only called them together for the big jobs.

This mystery team, however, seemed to have capes she'd never heard of on their roster, none of whom had broken cover and gone public with their own exploits. Someone who could keep that many people marching to the same beat had to have something backing them up, and luck as a power seemed to fit the bill as well as anything.

"Yeah," said Fenja. "If that's how it is, they'll totally want her back. And if Victor's up on a building somewhere, they'll be looking in the wrong direction when Purity's head explodes."

"They do have an Alexandria package," Victor reminded them. "I'd much rather not be out in the open when she gets to me. Glory Girl is bad enough. I'm just glad the two of them haven't chosen to team up together."

"Exfiltration is mere detail." Krieg rolled his head on his neck. "Draw up a plan, based on taking the redhead and her daughter hostage, and sniping Purity when she attends. Make sure we all have primary and secondary escape options. I'd rather not leave anything to chance when it comes to dealing with this group."

"Gotcha." Victor paused and raised a finger. "Am I just sniping Purity? Is this a targeted hit against her, or the whole group? What's happening with the redhead?"

Krieg stopped and ran his thumbnail over his lips. "I'll get back to you on that one."

Victor smiled slightly, probably picking up the same unspoken meaning that Tammi had. They sided with Purity against us, they die. "Gotcha."

<><>​

The Next Morning

Andrea's Apartment

Bacon sizzled in the pan, wafting a delicious odour throughout the apartment. Andrea leaned out of the kitchen nook and smiled at Janet. "One strip or two, hon?"

Seated at the table, Janet looked up and blinked. "Oh, uh, two, please." As if expressing a nervous tic, her index finger tapped several times on the table.

"Two it is. How about eggs? Sunny side up?"

"Uh, yeah. Yes, please. Sunny side up." Janet's finger tapped on the table again.

"Coming right up!" Andrea ducked back into the nook and started plating the eggs and the bacon. "So, did you need a lift anywhere today?"

"No, no, I should, uh, I should be able to … uh …" Janet's voice trailed off. When she spoke again, her tone was somewhat higher. "Andrea?"

"What is it, hon?" Switching the stove off, Andrea left the plates where they were and leaned out of the kitchen nook, then stopped. Very slowly, she raised her hands.

This was mainly because she was looking down the muzzle of a pistol, held in the hand of a man wearing a stylised Nazi uniform, with goggles over his eyes. Behind Krieg, she could see Janet holding very still with a sword across her neck, wielded by one of the armoured women who'd invaded Kayden's apartment. Other members of the Empire Eighty-Eight had also crowded into the apartment, but the door was now closed. Although she couldn't see him, Crusader was somewhere around, because she could see his ghosts here and there.

"Andrea Campbell?" Krieg's tone was as arrogant as it had been the previous time she'd heard him speak. She could totally hear him say something along the lines of 've haf vays of makink you talk' in her head.

"Yeah, that's me," she responded gamely. "Look, I can make bacon for everyone, but someone's going to have to run to the store—"

"Shut up," he snapped.

There was a time to keep blathering on to irritate the opposition, and a time to shut the fuck up. Andrea shut the fuck up. To emphasise this, she nodded, and raised her hands a little higher.

"Kid's not here!" called out Crusader from the general direction of Annette's bedroom.

Krieg jerked the pistol slightly; Andrea's eyes never wavered from it. "Where is your daughter?"

There was also a time to be a smartass and refuse to talk due to the 'shut up' command, but right now Krieg didn't look like a man whom it was smart to push. "Sleepover," she said. "Friend's place."

His lips tightened, then he jerked his head toward Janet. "And who's she?"

It was good that he hadn't recognised the hydrokinetic, but then again, her clothing was different from the previous occasion, and Andrea had given her hair a temporary pink rinse job. Taylor had given less than five percent chance that someone would make the connection. "She's a friend. Staying over for the night. You can let her go. She's got nothing to do with any of this."

There'd been exactly zero chance that Krieg would let Janet go anyway, but his smile indicated how much he enjoyed exerting control over the helpless. Paradoxically, this reduced the danger slightly. Giving Krieg the chance to bully them would make him happier, and less likely to murder either of them out of hand.

"Friend, huh?" Crusader emerged from the corridor leading to the bedrooms. "I read your file. She a dyke like you?"

"Last I checked, that wasn't a crime," Andrea countered. "And I'm certain the Empire Eighty-Eight didn't break into my apartment just to critique who I sleep with. So, what can I help you with?"

Crusader's eyes narrowed and a couple of ghosts surged forward, but Krieg put up a hand and they stopped. "You don't seem overly worried about our presence." He frowned. "And you haven't even asked how we got in."

"I'm fucking terrified," Andrea retorted. "I just don't show it very often. And Max had a spare key. No doubt you found it if you read his file on me. But that still doesn't explain why you're in my apartment, and what I need to do to get you to leave."

"That part's easy." Krieg gestured at the table, where Andrea's phone lay. "Take that and send a message to your friends. The ones you were with last night. Tell them that the Empire Eighty-Eight is breaking into your apartment and to come quickly. Is that understood?"

It was Andrea's turn to frown. "… kind of? They kicked your asses last time. I didn't even have to do anything. What makes you think you can beat them this time?"

The tone of her voice was more curious than defiant, specifically so that Krieg would take the bait. Pride was at stake here, and Krieg was a proud man. "Last time, you caught us unawares. This time around, you and your team will learn not to cross the Empire Eighty-Eight."

That was Janet's cue. "Um … I don't know anything about this … can I just go ...?"

"Shut it, pinko!" snapped Crusader. "You're staying right here." He eyed her left arm, where it was buried in her bathrobe pocket. "Let me see your left hand. What've you got there?"

"N-nothing." Janet lifted her arm, showing the stump where her wrist should be. "Now can I go, please?"

"You stay right the fuck where you are." Crusader stomped away, muttering to himself. "Fucking dykes and cripples. What a fucking day."

Krieg gestured at the phone, and Andrea obediently picked it up. Carefully, she typed in a text to Vicky's number, though the name came up as Kayden. Empire Eighty-Eight is trying to get in. 1 innocent on site. Pls come now .

"Is this what you want?" she asked, holding the phone out to Krieg.

He took the phone, scanned the text and nodded, then hit Send. "Smart. I like that. Just don't try thinking you're smarter than us."

She shook her head vigorously. "Nope. I know my limitations. Are you sure you don't want some bacon?"

"Yes, I'm sure I don't want bacon!" Krieg turned away and strode to the nearest window. Carefully, he pulled the blinds down until no light gleamed through. "Cover the windows," he told the others. "We don't want them seeing who's not here." Taking a radio from his pocket, he keyed the button. "Message sent."

Yeah, thought Andrea. Message sent.

<><>​

Rune

The radio clipped to Victor's belt crackled out two words. "Message sent." Without looking, he reached down and pressed the button twice in acknowledgement.

"Okay, everyone, keep a lookout all around," he said tensely. "When Purity hears that we're attacking a teammate of hers, she's going to be coming in hot."

Tammi nodded, then rolled her eyes at her own slip. "Right," she agreed, scanning the sky. It wasn't like Purity was exactly stealthy. The only way I'll miss her is if I've got my eyes closed.

Of course, once Victor sniped Purity (along with the hydrokinetic kid, if she showed up too), it would be time to go. That was what she was there for, along with the chunk of concrete they'd flown up to the rooftop on. Othala was there to give Victor invincibility, just in case the Alexandria package came after them while they were getting off the roof.

And of course, unless the Alexandria package was truly bulletproof, they'd regret it, because Victor was a really good shot—

"Hey."

Tammi whirled around, because that voice had not belonged to either Victor or Othala. At the same time, there was a sickening crack and a scream from Victor, because—as she rapidly found out—the Alexandria package had landed on top of Victor's leg hard enough to break it. Othala tried to lunge toward him, only for the big asshole who had punched out Tammi the last time to grab her. One punch to the jaw, and Othala sagged to the rooftop.

While Tammi could've tried to help Victor against the Alexandria package, she figured it was a lot better idea to let the others know what was going on. So she lunged toward her slab of concrete as it slid toward her, already powered up and ready to go. It was already beginning to lift up as she clawed her way on to it.

And then the hand latched onto her ankle and dragged her right off again. "Put it down!" yelled the guy who had hold of her. Frantically, she kicked at his hand, trying to get loose. In the next second, there was an almighty yank to her ankle, the world spun around her, and his hand closed on her throat. "Put it down," he repeated, his face two inches from hers. "Now."

Very carefully, she lowered the slab back onto the roof. She'd already been punched out by him once before, and didn't want to experience it a second time. "Where the fuck did you come from?" she demanded, trying not to sound like she was whining. "We were looking for fliers."

The Alexandria package came over to them, dragging an unconscious Victor by the scruff of the neck. His sniper rifle was slung over her shoulder. Even wearing goggles, she looked insufferably smug. "Haven't you ever seen any war movies where the enemy ace comes at you out of the sun? We've been hovering up there for an hour, waiting for you idiots to get in position."

"And it was way too cold," muttered the muscled boy.

"Oh, suck it up. It worked, didn't it?"

The revelation rocked Tammi's world like nothing else had. "You were waiting for us? You knew where we'd be?" This whole thing was a trap? We were the ones who were supposed to spring the trap, not them!

Laying Victor down, the Alexandria package began securing his hands. One of his arms seemed to be broken, but that didn't stop her. "Honey, we knew about your plans before you did."

As muscle-boy put zip-cuffs around her wrists, Tammi closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Fuuuuuck.

<><>​

Storm Surge

Janet couldn't figure out how Andrea managed to stay so upbeat. No fewer than six supervillains had invaded her apartment, any one of whom could easily murder them out of hand, and she had remained chirpy through it all. It was all part of the plan, certainly, but plans could easily go awry. It didn't help that they apparently knew Andrea was bi, and thought she was too; Nazis had never been tolerant of alternate lifestyles at the best of times, and homosexuality was one of the things that had gotten the death penalty.

For the moment, there was no overt threat to them, but Janet knew that once Victor sniped Purity the plan was to murder her and Andrea before getting out of there. Determined to be the good host, Andrea had offered the eggs and bacon around a third time. This time, Night and Fog had taken her up on it. They were seated on the other side of the table, passing utterly inconsequential remarks while mechanically eating the food.

Krieg's radio crackled. A hoarse male voice hastily whispered, "Incoming," then the transmission cut off.

"Places, everyone!" snapped the Nazi-uniformed cape. He pointed at Andrea, who was at the sink, scrubbing at the frying pan. "You! Sit down!"

Andrea spun both faucets to full on, then turned and threw the pan, hard. It hit Crusader on the back of the head with a loud clang, dropping him to the floor unconscious. All his ghosts winked out at the same time.

Janet slid out of her chair and went under the table. Night and Fog, already groggy from the sleeping pills Andrea had ground up and dosed the eggs with, went out like a light when she dropped their blood pressure just a touch. Slumping down, they began to snore.

She felt Krieg beginning to pull his pistol; in desperation, she gave him the same kind of full-arm cramp that she'd inflicted on Alabaster. His arm spasmed and the pistol clattered to the floor. Fenja or Menja, one of the two, heaved the table out of the way and the other reached for her. The water blasting into the sink turned into a tentacle that lanced across the apartment and wrapped both their heads in an ever-growing globe of water.

Diving for the pistol, Andrea grabbed it with both hands and pointed it up at Krieg, who was still grimacing with pain over his arm. He pointed toward her with his unafflicted arm and she gasped, choking. Janet grimaced, rolling away from Menja and Fenja. Reaching into Krieg's body with her power, she grabbed all the water in the blood vessels surrounding his lungs and forced it through into his air passages.

He choked in his turn, hand going to his throat. Andrea didn't hesitate; the shot echoed through the apartment. It punched into Krieg's chest and he stared down at the spreading bloodstain, as though he couldn't believe what had just happened. Then he fell to his knees, and toppled onto his face.

With Janet's lapse in concentration, Menja and Fenja were able to breathe again. Sopping wet and furious, one came after Janet while the other launched herself across the room at Andrea. Both were increasing in size, even though the apartment wasn't all that big to begin with.

Janet tried the cramping trick again, but it was far less effective against their increased muscle mass. Desperate to get to her feet so she could beat a more hasty retreat, she rolled aside again as an oversized foot smashed down right where she'd been. The water tentacle began to grow again, but not as fast as they were.

The front door smashed open as Vicky came through it at full pelt, carrying Browbeat with her. Letting him go on the full, she tackled one of the giantess twins across the room and halfway through the wall. Browbeat hit the other one and they tumbled down the corridor that led to the bathroom and bedrooms.

Hauling off, Vicky slugged her opponent once, twice, three times. Armour flew from each impact; on the third hit, the blonde giantess went limp in her grasp and began to shrink.

Able to focus on one opponent now, Janet concentrated on slowing down the woman Browbeat was fighting. The fight was anything but one-sided; he was strong and tough, but so was she. However, when Vicky got down there to lend a hand, it was all over.

As Vicky and Browbeat trooped up the corridor again, the latter carrying the villain over his shoulder, Andrea got up and looked around at the scene of utter chaos. Janet could only imagine what she was thinking; furniture was shattered, there were full-body dents in the walls, the front door was in pieces, and the fight at the other end of the apartment must have done even more damage.

"Well, dang," Andrea said, looking at the pool of blood oozing out from under Krieg and shaking her head. "I'm never getting that out of the carpet, am I?"

Janet just shook her head. Andrea was definitely one of a kind.



End of Part Twenty-One

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Twenty-Two: Recruiting Assistance

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



Saturday Morning, March 12, 2011
The Apartment of Andrea Campbell

Director Emily Piggot, PRT ENE

"What. The absolute. Fuck."

It had been quite some time since Emily had gone out into the field to attend a crime scene in person. She was only out here at all because Renick had personally called her—he handled the PRT building over the weekends—and she absolutely wanted to see first-hand just how badly the Empire had stomped on their own dicks. Despite the fact that she knew damn well Browbeat was entirely unlikely to embellish his account of the action—he possessed neither the inclination nor the imagination to do it in a believable fashion—she had to see the truth that lay behind the semi-coherent verbal report that Renick had passed on to her.

And boy, was it some truth.

Krieg was dead, shot by his own pistol. Night and Fog, snoring blissfully, had already been loaded into a van to be taken away, with two separate cameras pointing at Night and sending the signal to several different video feeds. The apartment itself was an absolute mess, though thankfully the woman who lived there (Emily already knew of her, from the debacle that had ended in Kaiser's death) had emerged from the incident unscathed.

Right at that moment, Emily was looking over the scene while the techs gathered what evidence they could. Intellectually, she could understand the basic sequence of events as garnered from the initial statements; the attack plan, as best she could see, should have succeeded. And it would have too, if the Thinkers hadn't done what they did best.

'If it wasn't for those meddling kids …' The phrase popped to the top of her mind, and she immediately squashed it. There was no way on God's green Earth that she was saying it out loud, ever, under any circumstances. Even the comment she had made was meant for no ears apart from her own.

She hadn't often seen the gangs go into all-out war mode, mainly because they knew damn well that doing this would usually open them up to another gang hitting them from behind while they were preoccupied with their first target. However, with Coil and Lung both off the board and with the surviving leadership feeling under threat due to their previous misadventures, it was easy to see why they'd decided to take the chance. And, as she'd already noted, it should have paid off.

"Armsmaster," she said more loudly.

The armoured hero, who had been playing a scanner over a broken section of drywall, looked in her direction. "Ma'am?"

"Is what you're doing essential to the investigation?" On one level, she knew it was all important to the investigation. On another, the chances of him finding anything that would materially change the outcome were minimal to zero.

"Not particularly, ma'am." He powered down the scanner and stowed it on his belt. "All indications are that everything went down exactly as Browbeat and Ms Campbell described. Was there something you needed?"

She gestured toward the door. "Walk with me. I'm going to need as complete a perspective on this shitshow as I can get, so I'd appreciate your input."

He nodded imperturbably. "I agree on all points so far, ma'am." As she headed outside, he followed along behind until they were out of earshot of any casual eavesdroppers. "Where would you like to start?"

"This shadow team." She frowned, thinking about it. "As a sidenote, has Browbeat indicated that they might be choosing a team name? We need to either officially call them the Shadow Team, or use whatever name they've chosen."

"Let me check." He fell silent for about ten seconds, then shook his head. "He hasn't made mention of it, ma'am."

"Shadow Team it is, then." But that wasn't what she'd wanted to talk to him about. "What's your analysis of how they pulled off such a complete ambush on the Empire, especially following the near-debacle in Purity's apartment? Also, why? If their Thinkers are as impressive as we've been led to believe, they could've stopped the plan dead in its tracks simply by dropping a dime to the PRT and giving us chapter and verse on its particulars."

Armsmaster smoothed his beard with finger and thumb before replying. "I believe the answer to the first question is simple. They don't have any auto-precogs, or they would've seen the first attack coming. However, once it was turned around and they were made aware of exactly how hard the Empire was willing to come at them, they had three options. Go dark, come to the PRT for assistance, or fight back."

It wasn't hard for her to follow his line of reasoning. "And their Thinkers decided that going dark or coming to us were not acceptable options."

"Doable, but not optimal," agreed Armsmaster. "So my analysis is that they worked out the Empire's plan to take them down, to a degree I would've found frankly implausible in any other situation except for the fact that they did it, then worked out their own plan to activate within that plan. To ambush the ambushers, so to speak. According to Rune, Aeglea claimed that Shadow Team knew of the Empire's plans before the Empire did."

"So if they had access to that level of foreknowledge," Emily persisted, "why didn't they loop us in on their plans? I'm finding it hard to believe that they don't know about Browbeat, given their other Thinker coups to date."

Armsmaster hesitated. "They … might not, actually. So long as he acts in good faith and doesn't do anything to screw them over, either betraying them to us or for any other reason, there's a good chance they'll never look that hard into him."

"Or," she retorted darkly, "they already know about him and they're stringing him along for the extra muscle while letting us think they're still ignorant about him."

After a moment, Armsmaster nodded. "So if they then used him as a conduit to ask us for help, that would be tacitly admitting that they know of his double-agency, and thus it would make things a lot more complicated for them." He tilted his head to one side. "The question is, how do we tell which one it is? Because on the surface, the two situations have an identical end result."

"Welcome to my world," she said sourly. "My read on the situation is that they decided, possibly with Thinker help, that our assistance either wouldn't improve the outcome or might even make it worse. If, say, some of the Empire capes spooked and ran, they might keep coming back and attacking. Whereas right now, the Empire officially has zero capes."

"And Krieg's dead." Armsmaster's tone was thoughtful. "He was Kaiser's successor as leader of the Empire, so that raises a question. Was he killed deliberately to make a point about that position being fatal, or is it just the way things went?"

"Who killed him, again?" Emily hadn't had access to that part of the report yet.

"Ms Campbell, actually." Armsmaster's voice held a note of respect. "According to her, he dropped the pistol in the confusion, with Menja and Fenja growing too large in the apartment, and she took her chance."

"That's putting it mildly," Emily observed. "I don't even remember the last time someone knocked out a supervillain with a frying pan. Or with ground-up sleeping pills."

"Also according to her, she was coached in what to do." Armsmaster sounded at least a little dubious about this claim. "Shadow Team knew the Empire would come after her due to her connection to Kaiser. Why they would do this wasn't adequately explained, at least by Ms Campbell."

"And by the Empire capes? Did they have anything to say on the matter?" Emily knew it was a long shot at best. Smart villains rarely made any kind of statement to law enforcement without a lawyer present, much less statements that would directly implicate them in criminal activity.

"Before Victor told her to shut the hell up, Rune let slip that they suspected Ms Campbell of being a cape. She didn't elaborate, but the strong implication is that Ms Campbell is a member of Shadow Team, which absolutely gives them a motive to take her as a hostage."

"It really does. Did they fill in Browbeat on any other aspects of what they thought the Empire plan to be?"

"No, but adding two and two with Victor up on a building with a sniper rifle, I can only assume he meant to kill someone from a distance. Factor in the hostage aspect, and I suspect the idea was to lure Purity to the location to save her teammate, and kill her along with any other members of Shadow Team who presented themselves. Ms Campbell and her daughter were likely on the kill list as well, if only to get rid of inconvenient witnesses."

Emily tilted her head at the reminder. "Right, there's a daughter, isn't there? Where's she?"

"On a sleepover with friends," Armsmaster confirmed. "Yes, she has been contacted. Her friends' parents will be putting her up until everything settles down here."

Emily wondered exactly how long they'd been planning for this sleepover; it seemed suspiciously convenient for the situation. Then again, it was the weekend, and the previous information they had on the Campbell girl indicated a large friend group. The fact that she was also apparently Kaiser's illegitimate child was just the icing on top of a very weird cake.

The temptation to go back inside and view the scene again was strong, but she knew she'd seen everything she needed to. By the time Monday morning rolled around and all this landed on her desk , she'd be as prepped to handle it as she was capable of. "Before I go, was there anything else you've found out that I might need to know?"

"Only that there was another person here this morning, apart from Ms Campbell, Aeglea, Browbeat and the Empire contingent." Armsmaster gestured back toward the apartment complex. "Ms Campbell hasn't mentioned anyone, but she does not strike me as being particularly shy. It may be that she took advantage of her daughter's absence to indulge in a one-night stand." Even though he wasn't the most socially conscious person, he didn't sound as though he believed a word of it.

Nor did Emily; if she'd possessed hackles, that explanation would have raised them. "Not if she knew the Empire was due to attack. No: whoever was in the apartment was a member of Shadow Team. I'd bet my retirement pension on it."

He nodded slowly. "If I had one, so would I. And it was almost certainly a woman."

"Not that I'm saying it wasn't, but why do you say that?" She looked at him curiously.

"Because a man, however innocuously there, would put them more on guard. For all that the Empire have female members, neo-Nazis tend to be strongly right-wing, conservative, misogynist and reactionary. They would see an apparently civilian woman as being of minimal threat to them. Shadow Team's Thinkers would know that."

Emily could connect the dots just as easily as Armsmaster could. "You forgot homophobic. If the Empire thought this woman was sleeping with Ms Campbell, they'd accord her even less respect, out of sheer disgust. Thus, leaving them distracted and off-guard to whatever she intended to do."

Armsmaster shook his head. "Using their own prejudices against them. Sheer brilliance." He paused. "Do we have any indication that Ms Campbell might actually be a cape, or information on any putative powers?"

"None that I've heard of," Emily admitted. "The trooper who took her statement added in his notes that she possessed Endbringer-equivalent levels of sass, but the last I checked, that wasn't a power."

"She and Mouse Protector must never be allowed to meet, check," he agreed, deadpan.

Emily snorted in dark amusement. "We're on the same page, then. Keep the Deputy Director updated on anything you think we might want to hear about."

"Roger that, ma'am."

<><>​

Saturday Evening
Hebert Household

Taylor

Under Dad's direction, Theo and I lugged the dining chairs into the living room. The sofa bed had already been transformed back into a sofa, and Dad's armchair would likely be claimed by Amy and Annette. Just as we were arranging the chairs, there was a knock at the back door.

"That'll be Amy and Vicky," I announced after glancing at the clock. "They're due about now."

"I'll get it," offered Theo, and headed in that direction.

"Cool," I said. "Leave the door open. Lisa will be along in a minute or so." Heading to the front door, I unlocked it then swung it wide open just as Andrea had her hand raised to knock. Behind her stood Annette and Janet, both of whom looked suitably impressed at my sudden appearance.

"You weren't just standing there and waiting for us to show up, were you?" asked Andrea.

"Nope. I rolled dice for everyone's arrival times. Amy and Vicky just showed up, and Lisa will be coming in the back door in about one minute. Dinah's parents are on the way to drop her off." I stepped aside to let them in. "What's happening with the apartment, and where are you going to be sleeping?"

"In the apartment, duh." Andrea shrugged. "Armsy was nice enough to fix the door after what the battering ram crew did to it, so we can secure the place. My bedroom got kind of busted up, but the mattress works just fine on the floor, and the sofa never got touched, so Janet's still got a place to sleep. We'll need to get repair guys in on Monday to fix the holes in the wall and stuff, but that's about it."

I had to give her props for equanimity; if I'd been through what she had just that morning, I was not at all sure I'd be bearing up nearly as well. Also, I'd never heard anyone call Armsmaster that, and I'd been living in Brockton Bay all my life. I was pretty sure that if she ever encountered the 'Halbeard' nickname on the PHO forums (I had no idea who'd come up with that one) she would instantly adopt it and make it all her own.

"Battering ram crew, huh?" asked Vicky, who'd just come through into the living room. "I think you might have mispronounced 'cavalry' there, just saying."

"Hey," Annette said, making a beeline for Amy.

"Hey." Amy put out her arms and hugged Annette. They held each other for a long moment.

"Oh, I'm totally glad you showed up when you did," Andrea conceded cheerfully enough. "Things were getting kind of fraught, right about then. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be able to gank them like I did Krieg."

"No, you weren't." Vicky shook her head. "I had to hit Menja, I think it was, pretty damn hard a few times before she went out like a light. The other one got a bit bigger so it took the both of us, but she trashed the room pretty good first."

Amy looked up from where she and Annette had their heads resting on each other's shoulders. "Hey, did you know the PRT's given us an official name?"

"Hey, Theo." Lisa strolled in through the back door. "Yeah, I found it today in a PRT memorandum. They're literally calling us 'Shadow Team'."

Vicky wrinkled her nose in the general direction of Lisa, who was grinning unrepentantly. "You suck. It was going to be a grand reveal and everything."

"More to the point," Dad observed with a sternly raised eyebrow, "we're supposed to be heroic. That doesn't involve hacking into the PRT for any reason."

"Meh, heroism's overrated," Lisa retorted impudently. "We're taking the trash out, and that's what matters. Besides, it was hardly even a hack. There was no access to confidential files or anything. I just wanted to know what they were saying about us behind our backs."

"So, what else did you find out?" asked Annette. "And maybe we should drop them a line with a better name. 'Shadow Team' doesn't exactly make the world fall to its knees in awe, just saying."

I shook my head. "It's the perfect name for what we are." A few dice-rolls had gone into finding out what names the PRT might slap on us, and I'd had no objection toward that particular one. Letting Lisa and Vicky squabble over revealing it to the rest of us was no great trial for me. "We're not in this to be famous, just effective."

Lisa shot me a look that gave me the distinct impression she'd figured out my minor subterfuge, but she didn't say anything. At that moment, I heard the Alcotts pull up out front, and I went to open the door again. I knew that so long as her parents saw me at the front door, they'd be happy to drop her off. Since she'd gotten her powers, they were getting along much better, which made her happy as well.

"Hi, Taylor!" she greeted me as she bounded up the steps to the open door. "It's good to see you. How's everyone?"

"They're all good," I reported. "Come see for yourself."

As she came inside, I waved to her parents and waited for a return wave before closing the door behind her and following her into the living room. Everyone had taken their chosen seats; as expected, Amy and Annette were sharing Dad's armchair. Dad, Andrea, Janet and Kayden were seated on the sofa, while Theo and Lisa had taken two of the kitchen chairs.

Dinah and I sat down on the last two chairs—Theo was holding Aster, who was burbling sleepily to him—and Dad cleared his throat, albeit quietly. "Okay," he said. "Results on the Empire bust this morning?"

Lisa put her hand up first. "Clean sweep confirmed, and the PRT is serious about holding them until they can be Birdcaged or transferred to other high-security facilities. Word is spreading through the underworld faster than it can be squelched. Some want to hold out as a non-cape gang, but they're haemorrhaging members on an hourly basis."

"Gesellschaft?" asked Kayden. "They've got a strong interest in the region. What's stopping them from sending in another cape or three to unify the local skinheads under the Empire banner again?"

Dinah fielded that one. "Theoretically, the PRT. In reality, us."

"Krieg wouldn't have held onto the leadership for much longer," Theo observed. "What's left of the Empire may be made up of neo-Nazis, but they're American neo-Nazis, and proud of it. I honestly don't know if they'll tolerate having outsider capes telling them what to do, shared ideology or otherwise. Personally, I'd bet against it."

Vicky snorted with amusement. "Meanwhile, nearly half the people in this room have either been involved with Kaiser, or are directly descended from him. If we were inclined to go that way, you guys would have more claim to the Empire than any of those jerks."

Annette's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Huh, you're right. Mom, can we—"

"Nope." Andrea shook her head. "We've already agreed that you wouldn't be taking over any evil empires to convert them from the inside until you were at least twenty-one."

"Aw, Mom," Annette groaned, casting doubt on my initial suspicion that Andrea had made her objection up on the spot. "Can't we make an exception just this once? How many other evil empires am I going to actually have a blood right to mold in my own image?"

"I said no, young lady." Andrea shook her head. "If I make an exception this time, what next? We've put these rules in place for a reason. Not until you're old enough to drink, at least."

Annette subsided, muttering something about 'totally stifling my potential', which Andrea seemed determined to ignore. Amy hugged Annette a little more closely and whispered something to her, making her giggle. I decided I didn't want to know. Besides, I had other fish to fry.

But just as I was about to speak, Dad cleared his throat. "Before we dislocate our shoulders patting ourselves on the back, it should be noted that Andrea and Janet came very close to being badly hurt or killed before Vicky burst in with Browbeat. It was my understanding that the plan had more of a margin of success than that. What went wrong, and how do we avoid it next time?"

Lisa took a deep breath. "I think … part of it might have been me. Or my power: if we can even be told apart."

Theo nodded. "That thing you were talking about, where it's got a tendency to downplay problems?"

"Yeah, that's the one." She closed her eyes and ran her hands through her hair. "I did my best to be as pessimistic as possible about the whole thing, but all I got was green lights from one end to the other. Even when I asked it the most stringent questions I could think of."

"Could it just have been a mistake on your part?" asked Andrea. "I mean, never attribute to malice blah blah blah stupidity."

"Could it? Sure." Lisa shrugged. "I've made mistakes before, but they've always happened because of bad information, a lack of information, or personal assumptions that were just plain wrong. I had good information and no need to make assumptions, and my power still downplayed how fast and effectively the Empire would react. Worse, it gave me an overwhelming sense of confidence about how accurate my analysis was."

Dad nodded seriously. "That's definitely something we're going to have to work on, going forward. Your power supplies very impressive analyses most of the time, but if it's going to put its thumb on the scale in situations like this, we'll need to figure out a way for you to reality-check your own assumptions."

"Yeah," Annette piped up. "Now, if only we had a couple of other powerful Thinkers around who could help you out with that."

There was a brief silence, then everyone turned to look at Dinah and me. Dinah shrugged. "Well, to be honest, we're not the best people for the job. That would be the non-capes in the room. The rest of us are just as vulnerable to the same power-influenced misconceptions as Lisa, just in a more subtle way. So we can't check her conclusions, because we won't see anything wrong with them."

"Huh," said Andrea, looking thoughtfully at Lisa. "That makes exactly as much sense as everything else about capes does."

I cleared my throat and waited until everyone was looking in my direction. "Not to change the subject, but I'm going to change the subject. While Gesellschaft infiltration isn't going to be hard to keep under control, we will have a bigger problem to deal with once word gets out."

Dinah's head came up as her power kicked in again. "Vicky, Amy, you'd know more about this than the rest of us. You lived through it."

The Dallon sisters stared at each other, then at Dinah. "Sh-shoot." Vicky changed the swear at the last moment. "You're talking about the Boston Games. You think that'll happen again?"

"Not in exactly the same way as it did back then," I said, "and not with all the same players, but yes. There are no major cape gangs holding territory in Brockton Bay right now, and there are enough power-hungry villains out there to absolutely make a concerted effort at turning our underworld into their own personal fiefdom."

"Meet the new boss, same as the old boss," Lisa quoted sarcastically. "What should we do? I mean, I could talk to the other Undersiders and Faultline's Crew about presenting a united front against anyone trying to push in from the outside."

"Wouldn't be enough, just with them," Dinah said at once. "But with us lending a hand, in between smacking down any attempts to revive the Empire Eighty-Eight and feeding the heroes and villains information on where the bad guys are likely to show up, we should be able to keep things under control."

"Until the real next big problem shows up." Over the last few hours, I'd spent a lot of time rolling dice and noting down the answers, and there was damn little in any of those answers that I liked.

Some of this must have leaked through in my expression and tone of voice because Lisa paled, the freckles over her nose standing out sharply. "No. Don't say it. Not like that." Her voice was almost pleading.

"Don't say what?" asked Dad, eyeing me curiously. "Taylor, what's the matter? What's coming?"

I gave Janet a sorrowful glance before I looked back at Dad. Whether she liked it or not, she was going to have to take front and centre when what I'd foreseen came to pass. "Leviathan."

<><>​

Glory Girl

"Nope. Nuh-uh." Vicky shook her head emphatically, trying to dispel the chill that was spreading outward from her spine. "You're saying we're going to have to deal with two separate bunches of villains trying to waltz into Brockton Bay while we're still cleaning up after the last crop of assholes, all while Leviathan is bearing down on the place? Please tell me you're pulling all our legs. Because okay, fine, you got us good."

Taylor grimaced. "I truly wish I was. We've got two months until it happens, but it's got a ninety-six point four nine three percent chance of happening on May the fifteenth. People are gonna die, heroes and civvies alike."

"Unless they don't." Dinah frowned. "I just asked myself how we could improve on that three and a half percent chance of Leviathan not hitting here, and the best person for the job … is Director Piggot. We're going to have to loop her in on what we know, sooner rather than later."

"That's a bad idea." Lisa shook her head. "She's a hardass at best, and a closet anti-cape bigot at worst. If we tell her how we know this, she will want to grab the reins."

"Is that so much of a problem?" asked Taylor pragmatically. "I don't really care how we do it, just so long as we can actually get it done."

"The trouble is, if we let her take control just once," argued Lisa, "she'll have our number from then on. And the next time we have just a little trouble, it'll be easier to give in to her."

Dad cleared his throat. "In the Association, whenever I saw someone who looked like they were voting against their own self-interest, I made a point of finding out whose interests they were voting for, and why. Lisa, why are you pushing back so hard against letting someone stop a monster from wrecking our home?"

"Because my power says it's a bad idea," Lisa retorted. "It'll end up being far more trouble in the long run."

"Just to be clear," Andrea said carefully, "this is the same power we just established could be leading you to problematic conclusions, right? Why is it being pessimistic now when it was optimistic up against the Empire?"

Annette snapped her fingers. "It's not about pessimism or optimism, or even about the Empire or Leviathan. It wants things to happen. What's more likely to ensure more fun stuff for it to do? The Empire going down, or the Empire sticking around? Leviathan coming here, or Leviathan going somewhere else? If I'm right, powers don't care what you want. They push for situations where they'll be used, where they can do stuff. It's got to be why you hardly ever hear of capes just retiring and never using their powers again."

"Wait." Theo looked at her oddly. "Are you saying powers want stuff? That they're somehow self-aware, and that they mess with the way capes think?"

Vicky was still trying to fit her head around Annette's entire statement. The words were all technically understandable, but the order they were in just didn't make sense.

"Huh." Annette frowned thoughtfully. "I guess I am saying that, aren't I? I hadn't really thought it all the way through, but yeah, that's the gist of what I was trying to say."

"I have no idea where you're getting that from," Lisa declared, "but my power keeps trying to give me reasons why it's BS of the highest order. Which, considering what Andrea just reminded me of, I'm gonna take with a large grain of salt."

Andrea nodded. "As one of your unofficial advisers, hon, I suggest you do that." She tilted her head. "Theo, you're the one non-cape in the room who's had the most experience of living around capes from a young age. Would you say Annette's got a point? Do capes sometimes seem to do things for no other reason than to stir up some action?"

Put on the spot, Theo blinked. "Um … I … actually, that would explain most of the crap I've seen in my life, you know? I never really understood what drove most of the Empire capes to go that extra mile—no offense, Kayden, but it's true—until now."

"None taken," Kayden responded soberly. "I still don't really see it, but if you say you do, I trust you."

"Okay," Dad said thoughtfully. "My question is, how's Director Piggot supposed to make Leviathan not come to Brockton Bay?"

<><>​

Director Emily Piggot, PRT ENE

The evening was getting on; just as Emily was just considering microwaving something to eat—despite the fact that she'd been out of the field for ten years, home cooking was still not a skill she'd ever prioritised—there was a ping from her laptop. Immediately, she muted the TV and got up from her armchair. While she was technically off duty (just as much as she had been when she was looking over the Empire crime scene that morning), this could have something to do with the capture of the Empire Eighty-Eight, and no way in hell was she willing to let herself be blindsided in that regard.

However, when she sat down in front of the laptop and woke the screen up, it wasn't an alert from Renick. Instead, it was a notification that she'd been sent a private message on PHO by someone calling themselves Management. She frowned; if this was the same person as the one in Shadow Team, Browbeat had reported her as being a young teen at best. Still, his description of her capabilities had been nothing less than glowing.

The next question, of course, was 'what does Management want?'. The pessimistic side of her brain immediately threw up several scenarios, most of which centred around Browbeat being outed as a mole. Were they angry? Was Management calling to taunt her? Were they going villain?

There was only one way to find out. Ever cautious, instead of clicking the link, she opened up her own window to the PHO boards then accessed her private messages that way.

<><>

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Director_Piggot_PRT
From: Management
Subject: We need to talk

Hi,
This is Management, of Shadow Team. (Yes, we know the name. No, Browbeat hasn't told us.)
As your projection team has almost certainly informed you, there are likely to be a couple of imminent crises due to hit Brockton Bay: specifically, a Gesellschaft attempt to revive or replace the Empire Eighty-Eight, and a general influx of villains attempting a replay of the Boston Games.
Just so you know, we are entirely willing to play bird dog for the Protectorate and other heroes to make sure the bad guys don't get what they want. However, we also need to talk to you about an even more stringent situation inbound to Brockton Bay (per Random) which can *only* be resolved via a cooperative venture between our team and your office, with your authority behind it.
Are you interested in a discussion regarding said joint effort? Please note: we have no desire to join the Protectorate or the Wards, or to go to work for Watchdog.
Awaiting your reply,
Management

■

<><>​

Emily stared at the words on the screen. Relief had initially fluttered by like an upbeat sparrow at the friendly tone of the message, only to be smashed by the eagle talons of the unnamed third crisis. Management wasn't saying as much, but her tone very much indicated that it was going to be more problematic than the Gesellschaft incursions (which her people hadn't even begun to draw up projections about) or the potential reprise of the infamous Games.

It's the Nine, she decided almost immediately. They're coming back to Brockton Bay. She hadn't been here when they first hit the city, but she'd heard the stories. The Slaughterhouse Nine specialised in spreading terror among capes and normal alike, only leaving when they'd done what they came to do. Not on my watch.

Drawing a deep breath, she opened a text window and began to type.

<><>

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Management
From: Director_Piggot_PRT
Subject: Re: We need to talk

Congratulations, you've acquired my undivided attention.
I'll wait and see how we do against the Gesellschaft and other capes. If it seems like we need help, we may contact you.
Regarding the other crisis: it's the Nine, isn't it? What's your plan for dealing with them?

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Director_Piggot_PRT
From: Management
Subject: Re: Re: We need to talk

Good guess, but it's not the Nine.
It's Leviathan.
Random has him showing up here in mid-May, but (like I said) there is a very slim chance that we may be able to divert him elsewhere. And that's where you come in.

■

<><>​

Emily sat frozen in her chair. The Slaughterhouse Nine, for the want of a better phrase, was a human-shaped target (mostly, anyway). Its members could be, and had been, killed. They were circumspect about attacking hard targets, never coming directly at a city that had the firepower and resources to track them down and enact that Kill Order once and for all.

Leviathan … was a crisis of an entirely different scale. Pun not intended, she thought grimly. When the Nine were done with an area, those that were left behind could bury the dead and mourn the fallen, then move on with their lives. Leviathan reshaped the landscape. Sometimes, after he allowed himself to be driven off, there wasn't even a city left to rebuild.

And he's coming here? Fuuuck.

<><>

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Management
From: Director_Piggot_PRT
Subject: Re: Re: Re: We need to talk

How certain are you about this?
What do you mean by 'divert'?
And what can I do that you can't?

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Director_Piggot_PRT
From: Management
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: We need to talk

Random gives it a 96.5% chance of happening, most likely on May 15. Casualties will be higher than normal, especially after he collapses the aquifer. Between injuries and deaths, you've got a 77% chance of losing at least four capes from your roster, and an 84% chance of losing at least a dozen PRT troopers.
By 'divert' I mean reduce the likelihood that he comes here to the point that he doesn't. Yes, this will mean he goes somewhere else. It sucks, but it is what it is.
You are the highest-ranking non-cape in the city who can order capes around and make it stick. Not being a cape, you will also be immune to certain biases that they are likely to fall prey to.

■

<><>​

Were it any other cape they were talking about, even a precognitive Thinker, Emily would've scoffed at the precise percentages. She'd never met a precog who could predict with both detail and accuracy what was going to happen more than five minutes into the future. But Browbeat had gone into detail about Random's capabilities, as demonstrated right in front of him.

She checked her calendar, and nodded grimly. May 15 was right in the middle of the projected window for the next Endbringer attack, and Australia was still reeling from the Simurgh's assault on their capital, so Leviathan was an understandable prediction for who. But the bald statement about the aquifer, and the projected numbers she would lose in capes and troopers, chilled her to the bone.

She found the notion of sending Leviathan to attack another city raised fewer qualms in her than she would have otherwise thought. In a sense, it was the trolley problem writ large, except that it was hundreds of thousands of people she was trying to keep safe. Also, she owed it to everyone to see if Endbringers could even be diverted. And if Random could predict Leviathan two months early, she could supply adequate warning to whoever he decided to attack instead.

When it came down to it, she didn't want to believe what Management had to say, but unless this was somehow all a giant con aimed specifically at her (and even if it was), then she needed to find out more.

<><>

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Management
From: Director_Piggot_PRT
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: We need to talk

While I have no doubt about the existence of these biases you allude to, I'm not entirely certain how that translates into being able to make Leviathan go elsewhere. Care to fill in the blanks?

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Director_Piggot_PRT
From: Management
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: We need to talk

The keyword here is conflict. Capes live for it and by it. Endbringers are attracted to places where there is already conflict, or where the attack would trigger more conflict than their mere presence would normally engender.
Conversely, removing enough of the powder kegs from an area would make a city sufficiently less attractive to Leviathan that he would go elsewhere.
You'd think that by removing the Empire, the ABB, the Merchants and Coil from the board we would've reduced the overall cape conflict in the city, and you'd be right. For a short while, anyway. But we both know about the Gesellschaft ambitions and about the potential for Brockton Games, which when taken together will punch up the overall level of conflict in the city to a point beyond where the Empire and ABB had it. Especially if heroes are trying to force them out again.
If we put this to capes to solve, it would invariably end with more conflict than we wanted or needed: the bias I was referring to. I'm only able to convey this to you because my power is literally aimed at determining who the best person for a particular job is, and how to do it. Even though I've got all the answers, I couldn't pull it off myself, no matter how earnestly I tried. All I can do is appoint the best person (you) to the task and give you pointers.
TL;DR—you have two months to tell Brockton Bay to chill the fuck out, and make it happen.
Also, you can't tell any capes exactly what you're doing or why, because subconscious biases will invariably lead to pushback. Likewise, I'd keep what you're doing from the upper echelons, mainly because informing Chief Director Costa-Brown will lead to capes finding out.
So, what do you say?

■

<><>​

Emily pushed herself back from the laptop, her mind whirling with the implications of what she'd just read. She had no idea if any of it was true—or rather, how much of it was true—but it all resonated deeply with her own experience in the matter. Capes sought out conflict and conflict sought out capes, the two truisms so deeply intertwined that it was often difficult to tell one from the other.

She desperately wanted for none of it to be true. For this just to be a juvenile prank and for Leviathan not to be due to hit the city. Being the regional Director held enough responsibility for a lifetime; if she was reading between the lines accurately, there were few people she could even confide in about this, much less trust to help her get it done.

But there was far too much at stake, and there was too much circumstantial evidence regarding Management's reliability to safely assume it was anything but genuine. Which meant that she was going to have to pull on her big-girl panties and step up to the plate.

Oddly enough, the repeated insistence that capes should not be told about this reassured her more than she'd thought it would. Ever since the Ellisburg debacle, she'd held the not-so-secret opinion that capes should never be trusted with any truly serious matter, and that mindset had been borne out more than once. The idea that Shadow Team was coming to her to save Brockton Bay, not some spandex-clad ninety-day wonder, made her feel obscurely better about the whole thing.

Sitting forward again, she poised her hands over the keyboard while she thought about how to phrase her answer.

<><>

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Management
From: Director_Piggot_PRT
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: We need to talk

I still have questions, but these mainly cover execution and other minor details.
Otherwise: I'm in.

■

<><>​

Hebert Household

Taylor

"Whoo, haha." Looking and sounding as giddy as I felt right then, Dinah sat back from Lisa's laptop with a broad grin plastered across her face. "She's going to do it. We're in business, people."

"Meh, I always knew she was going to go for it." Lisa, apparently going for a 'too cool for school' act, leaned against the doorframe with her arms folded.

Taking advantage of her height, I hooked my arm around Lisa's neck and applied a moderate level of noogie. "Yeah, but it's still great that she is."

"Hey! Pfft! Lemme go, you beanpole!" Lisa squawked and flailed, then stepped back once I released her, previously-neat hair now all over the place. Trying to get the tangle back into some sort of order with her hands, she glared at me. "Do you have any idea how long it takes to get a French braid just right?"

"Not really." I grinned at her. "Now ask me if I care."

"So, it worked?" asked Theo from the doorway. "It's really going to happen?"

"Well, we're not totally behind the eight-ball anymore," Dinah said carefully. "Though a lot can happen in two months, just saying."

I rolled my eyes. "Trust me, I know that one. So, you've got all the notes I made?"

"I do." Dinah took up the first one. "Empire capes need to be shipped out of town as soon as possible, so any Gesellschaft infiltrators can't just let them back onto the street. Likewise, the transport of Lung to the Birdcage needs to be expedited before he can break out."

There were a lot of these notes, but I had faith in Dinah to pass them onto Director Piggot in such a way that our mutual goals would be satisfied. It wasn't going to be easy, but at least we had a fighting chance now.



End of Part Twenty-Two

 

[Ack]

Director Piggot, PRT ENE

Emily breathed out a long sigh. One small step, as they say. Let's hope we can stick the landing. She leaned back in her chair, trying to wrap her head around what she'd just agreed to do. What she'd just committed the PRT to do, whether they knew it or not. Unpleasant thoughts began to intrude, and she tried to argue against them, but her best logic failed against unforgiving truths.

"Uggghhhh ..." she groaned, sitting forward again. Why me? Reaching for the mouse, she clicked on the 'Compose new message' icon.

<><>​

Tattletale

Lisa was about to shut her laptop down when a ping indicated that another private message had just dropped into the inbox. "Oh, that doesn't sound good."

"What do you mean, it doesn't sound good?" Annette peered at the laptop. "All those pings sound the same to me."

"It's the timing." Lisa sighed with aggravation. "She just thought of something."

Taylor said nothing; instead, she rolled some dice and scribbled on a piece of paper.

"Are you going to answer it?" asked Danny.

"My power says it can be left until later." But despite the vague conviction that it wasn't hugely urgent, Lisa didn't move the mouse to dismiss the notification.

"Which could be a ploy to make life more interesting later," Andrea mused. "All in favour to answer now?"

"Aye," Annette said, echoed closely by Theo and Danny.

"All against?" asked Danny.

Nobody said a word. Once more, Lisa felt as though she ought to, but when she suppressed her power, the feeling faded away.

"Looks like the ayes have it," Andrea announced cheerfully. "Let's see it."

Lisa obediently clicked the notification, and it unfolded.

<><>

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Management
From: Director_Piggot_PRT
Subject: I have more questions

One: If we can divert Leviathan away from Brockton Bay by doing this, is there any way we can make him go back to sleep instead of attacking another city? How deep an insight do you have into his motivations and what makes him tick?
Two: Exactly how reliable are Random's predictions in all this? I don't mean to give offense, but we're banking a lot on something I know very little about, right now.
Three: What are your backup plans in case this doesn't work?
Four: Just as a hypothetical, what are the chances of actually ending Leviathan if we didn't reduce the conflict in the city but instead fortified the place with every armament known to mankind, and made it into one gigantic trap?
Five: You are aware that if he sheers off because of our actions, another city is going to take it on the chin, right? How comfortable are you with that?

■

<><>​

Taylor

"Called it," I said, picking up the note I'd been writing and dropping it alongside the laptop. Point by point, I'd outlined the gist each of her follow-up questions.

Annette rolled her eyes and bopped me on the shoulder with her fist. "Of course you called it, you dingus. That's literally your job. Now, how best to reply ..."

"That's your call, Mr Hebert," Dinah interjected smoothly. "Old Union man and all."

"Hm. Thank you." Dad stepped forward to stand next to Lisa. "Okay, exactly as I say. Ready?"

"Ready," she reported, fingers poised over the keys.

<><>

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: Director_Piggot_PRT
From: Management
Subject: Re: I have more questions

We have indeed considered all those aspects. In order of your asking:

One: Our Thinkers have been over all available records of Endbringer attacks, which are unfortunately thin on the ground, given that any foolhardy idiot who's pointed a camera at them has usually died. Random has predicted that Athena might get more insights once she has real-time line-of-sight visuals of an Endbringer in action, which would be unfortunately too late to aid in diverting him from wherever he was at the time.
It would be ideal to figure out a way of telling him to go away and leave everyone alone, but our insights into Endbringer motivations do not extend that far as yet. Random says that she can't learn what she needs to know until she learns what she needs to know.
I don't know what that means, either.

Two: Random's predictions are either a percentage number, to five significant figures, or it gives a definitive fact. Her power is so precise about being precise that it literally won't let her lie about predictions she's about to make. I've never seen them go wrong, and I've helped test them quite stringently.

Three: Our backup plans will be evolving as we get more information and can use that to get more information again, but the basics will be: Delay, fortify, protect, divert from vulnerable locations. If I can be placed in charge of the defense of the city, we might even be able to make a good showing of it.
I have just been told that if Leviathan comes on shore, we'll "fight like we're the third monkey on the ramp to the Ark, and brother, it's starting to rain". Which is kind of appropriate, yes.

Four: No. Do not do that. That is a Very Bad Idea. Random has just rolled a bunch of dice, and is looking particularly grim. Tagg in particular will use the entire city (and its population) as a throwaway resource if it will help kill Leviathan ... but it won't. No amount of escalation on the part of the PRT will achieve that. I've just been told that Leviathan is not showing his full strength. None of them are. The very best outcome of this sort of thing would lead to Leviathan breaking off early, but by the time he does that, three-quarters of the population of Brockton Bay will be dead, half the city permanently under water, and more than half the heroes and PRT personnel likewise casualties. And if Tagg gets to use his nuclear mines, a radiation hazard offshore for the next fifty years.

Five: We're aware of it. It's not something we're happy about, but we've talked it over in exhaustive detail. One of the reasons we're going with this is that Brockton Bay is uniquely vulnerable to Leviathan's particular brand of fuckery, so basically anywhere else would be preferable.
Random will be running the numbers on a daily basis, and the moment we get a line on where he might be going instead, we'll be able to provide you with options to feed to them about potentially lessening the impact. Even twenty-four hours will be enough to get most vulnerable citizens away from an area, and a week will allow a city to almost completely evacuate.
Oh, and wherever he chooses to go, our Thinkers and heavy hitters will be coming along to participate. We're not just sending him away for someone else to face.
Hope that helps.

-- Management

■

<><>​

Director Piggot

Slowly, carefully, she read through the long message. Parts of it made her raise her eyebrows, especially the part about Tagg and nuclear mines. The man, she knew, would absolutely use them.

Once she came to the end, she nodded and typed three words into a reply post.

Yeah. It does.

End of 22.5

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Twenty-Three: Juggling Chainsaws

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


Sunday Afternoon, March 13, 2011
Brockton Bay Port Authority Bus Terminal

A Stranger in Town

The 4:30 PM bus from out of town pulled to a halt with a squeal of brakes. After a moment, the engine shut off and the doors slid open. One by one, the passengers alighted, some with their belongings carried at their sides or slung over their shoulders, and some empty-handed. All of the latter and most of the former assembled at the side of the bus, awaiting the unloading of their checked luggage.

One who didn't was a young woman, clad in a worn hoodie and jeans, carrying a backpack off the bus. She paused to put her arms through the straps and settle it properly on her back, before looking around for an exit.

After leaving the bus terminal, she picked a direction more or less at random, and started walking. Sooner or later, she'd find what she was looking for, and start building her own resources. There would be an untapped pool of … well, minions … in the city, that she was sure of.

With the collapse of the major gangs in the city, Brockton Bay now had two things she could make use of. First, a power vacuum where the criminal underworld had previously existed. Second, her untapped resource.

Disaffected teenagers.

Every city had them, seeking and yearning for something more. She knew that feeling, more keenly than most. The bone-deep knowledge that I am special; I am better than everyone around me. Why isn't anyone acknowledging this?

The teens she sought would've been preparing to take their first steps toward making a name within their respective gangs. She didn't want the idiots who'd believed in something greater than themselves before it was ripped away from them, but those who had yet to learn.

If they were going to follow a cause, then her cause was better than anything else out there. She knew that for a fact; after all, it was all about her.

A gust of wind—warmer than it would've been back in Stafford, but still chilly enough to remind her that it was still only March—whistled down the street and dislodged some of her hair from the hood. Ashley Stillons reached up and tucked the pure white lock back into hiding, and continued down the street. A smile played across her face as she surveyed what would inevitably become her new domain.

There were already heroes in Brockton Bay—Protectorate and otherwise—and some of them were undoubtedly powerful, given that they'd cleared out the previous gangs.

But none were as powerful as her.

I can take them.

<><>​

Taylor

I stood with Lisa, Annette, Theo, Vicky, Amy, and Dinah, apparently gossiping at a bus stop. Dad, I knew, was parked across the way, with Andrea ducked down in the back seat, getting photos out the window of the new supervillain in town. Andrea was handy with a camera, though I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to know how she got so good.

"She doesn't look so tough." Predictably, that was Vicky. "I could smack her out right now, and save us all a lot of trouble."

Lisa, Dinah and I shook our heads at the same time. "Bad idea," Lisa said. "She's got her head up, looking around for capes. Plus, she's twitchy as hell."

"Your power could just be saying that because it wants more excitement around town, and letting her go will make that happen," Vicky protested.

"True," Lisa allowed. "Taylor?"

I discreetly rolled percentile dice on a small hand-held tray. "Fifty-seven percent chance she gets a shot off at you before you get to her. Want me to roll to see her chance of getting through your force field before you punch her out?"

"Sorry, hon," Dinah finished up. "When it comes to neutralising her, you're not the best person for the job. At least, not here and not now."

"Well, who is?" Vicky rolled her eyes. "Geez, kicking ass was a lot more fun back before you Thinkers got in on the game."

Annette, holding hands with Amy, snorted in amusement. "So, exactly who did I hear saying not so long ago about how it's so much more rewarding to be working with Thinkers, because it takes all the bullshit time-wasting and guesswork out of finding the bad guys?"

"Can't have been me," Vicky said loftily, though she made no move to go after Damsel of Distress. "You must be thinking of some other devastatingly awesome kicker of villain ass."

Theo cleared his throat. "Okay, so if we're not taking her down right now, because I have zero doubt you could have arranged a situation where we could've done just that … why didn't you, and how are we going to be taking her down?"

"And the young man in the second row gets the prize for asking the right question." Lisa actually went so far as to steeple her fingers before her. "We didn't, because any fight where she isn't put on the ground hard is a fight where she can hit back, and that way lies property damage and potential loss of life. More to the point, even if she gets beat up and handed over to Edict and Licit to be taken back to Stafford, she'll be likely to jump on a bus as soon as she's able and come right back, this time with a grudge."

"We did a bit of digging," Dinah added. I grinned, because I knew what was coming. "She rage-quit from the Boston Games because the other villains froze her out. There won't be any other villains to do that here, so what we're going to do is make her decide of her own free will that it's just not worth hanging around Brockton Bay."

I took up the thread. "I ran the numbers. Just sending her back, with or without a tune-up, has less than fifty percent chance of making her stay away. But gaslighting the fuck out of her until she gives up and goes home of her own accord has a solid eighty-nine percent chance of success."

It was no coincidence that I was looking at Annette when I said this. Her eyes opened wide. "Me? You want me to help convince a supervillain that she's going cuckoo?"

Lisa raised an amused eyebrow. "That's if you're interested."

"Am I!" Annette nodded so violently she briefly resembled a bobble-head doll. "Sign me up!" She cackled evilly and briefly tugged her hand free of Amy's so she could crack her knuckles, not altogether successfully. "I have ideas."

Amy recaptured Annette's hand, shaking her head. "Just remember, guys, this one's all on you."

Vicky blinked. "Why do I feel a sudden surge of pity for Damsel of Distress?"

Theo shook his head as Annette cackled again, even more creepily than before. "Because you possess working pattern recognition?"

"Yeah, that's probably it."

<><>​

Monday Morning, March 14
PRT ENE

Director Emily Piggot

Monday mornings were always problematic as far as Emily Piggot was concerned. Any lingering problems from the weekend would likely need to be mopped up, along with the fresh crop that would gleefully show up in her inbox, ready to brighten her day (in the same way that a nearby nuclear detonation also brightens one's day). Which meant that when she saw the anomalous email header, she was automatically on guard.

It was from Shadow Team, which didn't reduce her overall apprehension level to any great degree. Despite their track record, the revelations they'd come up with so far hadn't exactly assisted her in getting a good night's sleep. With a certain amount of trepidation, she opened the email to see which shoe would be dropping today.

Hi, Director, it began. Emily thought she recognised Management's chatty style. Per our last discussion, here are our suggestions for reducing the overall amount of conflict inside Brockton Bay.

• Lung needs to be transported out of the city to the Birdcage ASAP.
• Those members of the Empire Eighty-Eight in custody need to be transported to appropriate holding facilities, also outside the city. Night and Fog specifically.

This is because Gesellschaft will be sending a bunch of guys, plus a few capes, to rendezvous in the city in the next few days. Their aim is to gather up the party faithful and break out what capes they can from PRT holding, with the assistance of moles within the building. Their focus will be on Night and Fog, being Gesellschaft capes to begin with.

See below in the attachment: the make, model and license plates of the cars they will be driving, and the times they will be entering Brockton Bay along I-95, plus the names and capabilities (and Achilles heels) of the capes coming in. Also, the names of the moles we've been able to identify within the PRT.

Just so you know, Damsel of Distress is in town. She would be problematic for you to deal with, especially with the other capes coming in, so we're going to handle that problem ourselves. Please tell Edict and Licit to hold their horses, we've got this.

I'll get back to you when I've got more to say.

Just remember: conflict is not your friend.

Bye,

Management

Emily read the email through twice more before opening the attachment and carefully checking it over as well. When she saw the five names that Management was calling out as Empire stooges, she began to swear softly under her breath. Two of them she didn't personally know, but of the three she did, she would have trusted at least one with her life.

Is this actionable, or are the Shadow Team just naming people at random to give themselves borrowed legitimacy?

It took her a few seconds to realise that she was having to deliberately fight her ingrained bias against accepting such damaging information about people under her command from a bunch of independent capes. Agreeing in the abstract to head off potential conflict was one thing, but investigating her own damn people on the say-so of an outside team was a whole different situation.

Can we afford to take this information at face value?

Can we afford not to?

If they were on the level, it would sow deep chasms of distrust within the PRT as the loyal officers eyed each other and wondered if all the moles had been uncovered. Even if it turned out to be a false alarm through either malice or negligence, there would be very real feelings of betrayal of a different kind. Either way, it was a lose-lose situation.

And there's the other damn shoe.

<><>​

Taylor

I was sitting at one of the outside tables in Arcadia, eating my lunch and idly rolling dice (well, it would've looked like the dice rolling was aimless), when Cam and Kay found me, dropping onto the bench opposite. Kay greeted me with a broad smile. "Hey, Taylor."

"Hey, guys." I picked up my dice and dropped them back into the bag I'd made for them, back before I met Annette. "How's things?"

"Oh, we're okay." Cam gave me a serious look. "But we're starting to worry about you and Annette. Wanted to make sure you knew we were still your friends after all the stuff that happened, that night."

'That night.' Yeah, that's one way to put it.

"It was definitely a lot to deal with." I took a deep breath, feeling the pricklings of guilt. Annette and I had been so taken up with both planning the exploits for our team and actually carrying them out that we hadn't put aside any time to spend gaming with the guys. "We've both been dealing with family matters since then, but that's not really an excuse. Sorry."

'Family matters' was stretching the truth more than a little, but my family (Dad) and Annette's family (Andrea) had been occupied both with the team and with each other, so it wasn't quite a lie. Also, Annette had been contacted by lawyers representing the bits of Medhall that the PRT hadn't yet sequestered, and the parts of Max Anders' estate that hadn't been likewise seized. It looked like she, Theo and Aster were going to do quite well out of it, even if they weren't going to be able to touch their actual inheritances until they turned eighteen: a solid six figures each.

"Hey, that's okay." Kay reached across the table and gave my hand a squeeze. "Life throws you a curve ball sometimes. Anytime you and the guys want to get back together and throw some dice, we'll be there."

I began to say, "I appreciate that—" then broke off as I saw Annette coming. "Oh, there she is now."

"Hey, hey hey, heeeey." She arrived with all the tact and finesse of an incoming ICBM, sliding into the seat beside Cam and reaching across behind him to ruffle Kay's hair. "Great to see you guys! How've you been?"

"Good. Great, even." Kay grabbed her hand and clasped it. 'We've actually been worried about you."

Annette rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah, there was all that drama. You'd think nobody ever heard of a millionaire philanthropist Nazi supervillain before. And you wouldn't believe the fallout from that crap. Worst thing is when you're dealing with Nazi accountants over the phone. They give the Hitler salute and all of a sudden the phone's two feet away from their ear and they can't hear you." She put one finger under her nose and stuck her other arm out in the air, her hand cradled like it was holding a phone, then shifted into the worst attempt at a German accent I'd ever heard, even on the late-night comedy circuit. "Achtung, achtung. You muzt zpeak more loudly, fraulein."

By this time, Cam was facepalming and Kay was trying hard not to fall off her seat with laughter.

"Well, you're definitely feeling okay," Cam said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, doing a lot better than I was." Annette gave him a quick side-hug. "Things have settled down a tad, anyway." She glanced over at me. "So what do you say, Taylor? See if we can get everyone together next weekend?"

I frowned and pretended to think about it as I pulled the d20 out of my dice bag. "I'm all for it, but let's see what the dice say." Low means it's a bad idea, I told the die. High means we can pull it off without screwing up any of the cape stuff we're into.

The die rolled off my palm onto the table and clattered to a halt. Cam and Kay stared at the natural 20, and Cam shook his head. "With rolls like that, you'll be really coming out of the gate hot."

"So, we playing at Ms Russel's place again?" asked Kay. "That was a nice session, apart from the whole 'supervillain walking in the front door' thing."

"Ah, no." Annette shook her head. "Place got kinda flooded out."

"Flooded out?" Cam frowned. "Wasn't it on the third or fourth floor?"

"Yup." Annette's expression was solemn. "Water main threw a hissy fit. We're gonna have to do it somewhere else."

I had a brainwave. "We've got a basement at my place. If we clean it up and get a table down there, maybe add some more lighting, it could work."

"Hell to the yes!" Annette slapped the table, and the die rolled onto the 2. "We could totally make it into an awesome gaming dungeon." I met her eyes, and an understanding passed between us; when we weren't gaming, we could totally use it to plan cape stuff. There was a surprising amount of overlap between the two, even down to the use of dice.

For a whimsical moment, I wondered if we should be making character sheets for the villains, then I decided that might be just a little on the nose.

"So, is Theo still interested in gaming, or did that whole thing scare him off?" asked Kay, evidently oblivious to my internal monologue.

"Oh, heck no, my bro is still down to learn how it goes." Annette nodded earnestly. "And we might even have another player or two."

Cam frowned. "Another player? It's usually a good idea to check with everyone else before inviting someone into a game."

"Oh, I think you might make an exception." Annette's eyes were sparkling from the joke. I smirked as I looked over her shoulder and saw who was coming over to us.

"Hey." As Amy reached us, she swung comfortably into Annette's lap. There wasn't much room left on the bench, but I was pretty sure that wasn't the reason she chose to sit there. Their arms went around each other, and they touched foreheads and nose-tips in a way that would've looked contrived as hell if I didn't know the both of them.

Cam's jaw dropped as he stared at them. "Hey—who—wha—Panacea?" Kay was equally stunned, but had nothing to say at the moment.

Annette had to be a smartass about it, of course. Pulling her head back, she stared at Amy as though they'd just met. "Holy crap, it is you! I thought you looked familiar! Can I get your autograph?"

Amy was equal to the challenge. "Well, that depends. Which part of your body did you want me to sign? You already got my sister to sign your butt."

"Lower back, lower back." Annette was grinning broadly. "Do I look like the sort of person who would moon Glory Girl in public?"

"In a heartbeat," Kay declared promptly. "I've seen you do much weirder things." She paused. "Wait, you actually did get Glory Girl to sign your butt, lower back, whatever?"

I nodded. "Yeah, she did, actually. We ran into Amy and Vicky in the mall, so Annette put on her patented 'I'm your greatest fan ever' act—"

"Excuse you?" Annette assumed an attitude of injured innocence, which might have even convinced me if I didn't know her. "How can you possibly call that an 'act'? Right then, I was totally her greatest fan, so there!"

Cam chose to ask the obvious question. "So, if it's Glory Girl who signed whatever part of you it was she signed, how come you've got Panacea sitting on your lap now, and not Glory Girl?"

Annette shrugged. "Vicky wasn't interested, and Amy is. Fortunately, I was more interested in Amy than Vicky. Numbers were exchanged, et cetera and so forth, and voila."

"And you're down to game with us, Panacea?" Kay paused and rephrased. "I mean, Amy."

"Well, sure." Amy snuggled into Annette's embrace. "I'm already a public superhero. It's not like the tabloids haven't already claimed I spend my time doing things ten times weirder than playing Dungeons and Dragons as it is."

"So, has Annette already told you about the game?" Cam waited for Amy's nod before he pressed on. "Any idea what you'd be interested in playing? Because I think we could put together a pretty rocking—"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Anything but a healer."

Annette snorted, and I laughed out loud.

<><>​

PRT ENE Director's Office

Armsmaster

When Colin entered the Director's office, he immediately knew something was amiss. Director Piggot was usually good at holding her emotions in check until the time came to vent precisely calculated anger at the subject of her ire, but as he closed the door behind him, he saw that her knuckles were white. She was either terrified or infuriated, and he wasn't entirely sure which possibility worried him more.

"You needed me to check something over, Director?" He activated all the passive scanning modes he'd built into his helmet and glanced around the room, but nothing showed up as being out of place. As far as he could tell, she wasn't under direct threat, which meant she was angry about something. This only puzzled him more, because none of this had shown up in her request for him to attend her office. She was normally far more direct than this.

"Yes. Come around here and read this." She moved her chair aside and turned her computer monitor so he could see it. "I got this email from the Shadow Team this morning."

Matters were becoming much clearer to Colin as he rounded the desk. Focusing on the email, he scanned the lines, noting the names down, as well as the vehicle details. When he'd finished, he read it through again, then stepped back. "Well. That's definitely interesting."

Her expression was sour. "That's one way to put it. Until now, I haven't disseminated it to anyone, for obvious reasons. I've been checking each of these names out, but I haven't found anything that would either clear them of all Empire involvement or nail them to the wall."

"Which could mean that they're innocent, or they're very careful about covering their tracks," he observed, following her train of thought. "I know some of these men. Up until right now, I would've considered them trustworthy."

She nodded. "Likewise. Which is why we need to move carefully. If any of them do turn out to be trustworthy, I don't want to alienate them on the say-so of a bunch of unaffiliated capes. When the Gesellschaft contingent shows up—and yes, I'm assuming they will—we're going to need as many hands on deck as possible."

"All of that tracks, yes." He considered her words. "You want to pull a canary trap, then?"

"Yes. Ideally, something that we can put into place and activate in the next twelve to twenty-four hours, and has minimum repercussions if they do turn out to be innocent." She leaned back in her chair and looked up at him, her hands folded together. "I have some ideas, but I'm open to suggestions."

Ideas were also occurring to him. "I'm sure we can figure something out between us, ma'am."

She smiled, a harsh expression. "I'm counting on it."

<><>​

Taylor

I opened the back gate and let us in, then caught up with Annette as she headed for the back door. "Thanks for coming over to give me a hand cleaning up the basement."

"Me? Clean up the basement?" She gave me an arch look. "I don't work. I direct the peons in how to do the work. Management material, that's me. I do delegation, not fumigation."

Heading up onto the small back porch, I pulled out my key. "Think again," I advised her with a smirk as I unlocked the door. "This is a union house. Management is not invited."

"So that means no cold fruit juice?" she asked, coming up the steps.

"Correct." I opened the door and stepped inside.

"And no movie while we wait for Mom and your dad to show up?"

"Got it in one." I was grinning broadly by now.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I was about done with management, anyway. Pack of useless bloodsuckers, the lot of them. Cast off the chains of oppression! Seize the means of production!" By the end of her mini-rant, she actually had her fist raised in the air.

"Viva la revolución," I quipped, dropping my backpack on the table. Woo, I finally found a use for that semester of Spanish! "So, is this how you're going to get the approval of the masses when you take over your first evil empire? Get rid of the assholes in charge and declare a classless socialist collective?"

She snorted with derision, looked thoughtful, then nodded. "There's a lot more nuance to it than that, but basically … yes, actually. Interested in being my second in command? I could do with a trustworthy lieutenant who knows what my opponents are going to do before they do it."

I opened the fridge and poured us both a glass of fruit punch. "So, what are you going to do when I inevitably turn on you and overthrow you to establish my own revolutionary workers' paradise, with me at the top?"

"Ah," she said, accepting her glass and clinking it against mine. "I'll be asking you every day to roll and see if you will be betraying me in the next forty-eight hours. We both know you can't lie with your predictions."

"Curses. My evil plans are undone." I took a long drink from my glass. "You're actually pretty good at this revolutionary leader stuff."

"Meh, Mom and I go over weirder ideas on the regular. Why do you think she's got so many rules for me? The world is full of bizarre bullshit that we've all managed to normalise, and she just wants me to be prepared."

"I had actually wondered." I finished my juice and rinsed the glass in the sink. "Knowing your mom, this does not surprise me in the slightest."

"Darn tootin'." Annette followed suit, setting up her glass alongside mine in the drying rack. "So, I've been going over ideas about how to totally fuck over Damsel's entire week."

"Any good ones?" I led the way to the basement door.

"Some better than others, though I'm not totally sure where I can get hold of a honey badger and a dancing mime troupe at short notice." She paused thoughtfully as she followed me down the stairs. "Or a Legend lookalike strip-a-gram. It would work better if it was the actual Legend, of course."

I snorted. "You just want to ogle Legend in a thong."

"Well, duh. Wouldn't you? I mean, Eidolon's got that dad bod thing going on, and I'm pretty sure Alexandria would punch anyone who suggested it into orbit."

For a second, I let myself wander along Annette's train of thought, then I realised we were getting off track. "Can we get our minds off scantily clad superheroes and back to the task at hand?" I rolled my eyes and gestured at the basement. "We're supposed to be cleaning up down here to make this into a gaming space, remember?"

"I can totally do both at the same time. It's called multitasking." She caught my expression and let out a put-upon sigh. "Okay, fine. So, the first idea involves finding out where she's crashing …"

"Very doable," I noted.

"I figured. Anyway, we get close while she's there …"

I listened, and made mental notes.

As the list grew, I decided to never let Annette get mad at me.

<><>​

Conference Room A

Deputy Director Paul Renick

Paul looked from face to face. "This information does not go beyond this room," he warned them. "Due to the potential threat of the surviving members of the Empire Eighty-Eight being broken out of PRT holding, we will be moving them under cover of night, on the evening of Wednesday the sixteenth of this month. That's two days away. In addition, there will be two convoys; one will be a decoy, while the other will be transporting the actual capes."

One of the PRT officers, a Lieutenant Hollingsworth, raised a finger to gain Paul's attention. "So, who'll be driving the decoys and who'll have the real deal, sir?"

Hollingsworth hadn't been named as an Empire sympathiser, which only meant that the two men in the room that were had the sense to wait for someone else to ask the question. Either way, it didn't matter, though he appreciated the opportunity to segue into the next part of his carefully prepared briefing.

"That information," he announced, "will not be released until shortly before the operation is commenced. Each squad will be individually informed, and you will not share that information outside your squad until the operation is concluded." He raised one hand to quell the murmur that ran around the table at that. "We've all heard the rumours that the Empire has moles within our ranks; I personally don't believe that's the case, but those are the orders I have been given, so that's the way we're going to do things. Loose lips, et cetera."

Now that the ice had been broken, the next question was asked by someone who had been named as a turncoat, a Lieutenant Garvey. "How will we know which way we're going, sir? If we're running a real convoy as well as a decoy, surely we can't just run them both along the same stretch of road."

"Excellent question, Lieutenant." Paul indicated the Manila folders that had been placed at every seat. "Open your briefing folders. Three routes have been determined, and given the designations of Alpha, Bravo and Charlie. You will study each route assiduously. On the day, at the same time as you are told whether you are transporting the villains or running a decoy, you will also be notified as to which route you will be following. Again, this information does not leave your personal possession."

Silence fell over the room, broken only by the rustling of paper as each of them studied the maps within the folders. He had no doubt that these would be passed on to the Empire cohorts as soon as the faithless officers had the opportunity to do so. However, just as the basis of all magic tricks lies in knowing one extra fact, the question of who was ambushing whom would revolve around which side had a more complete awareness of the upcoming battleground.

Between the planning that had already taken place and the preparation currently underway, he had to believe that the PRT held a narrow but uncontested advantage, improved by the timely warning from the Shadow Team.

Here's hoping they're as good as they think they are.

<><>​

That Evening

Taylor

"Okay," I whispered. "She's getting ready to go out and start her recruitment drive. Janet, you ready?"

I could've spoken normally, given that we were sitting in Dad's car across the street from the dilapidated building that Damsel of Distress was currently using as her base of operations, but it just felt more natural to keep my voice down.

Janet evidently felt the same way. "Yeah," she murmured. "I've been jabbing her bladder occasionally. If she doesn't go to the bathroom soon, I seriously want to see what she's made of."

"Stubbornness and bad temper," Dinah replied, only half jokingly. "There are many jobs she's the best person for, but none of those jobs are nice."

Annette chuckled and began to make a comment, but then Janet held her hand up. "Okay, shh, she's going there now. Ready … ready …"

Clearly through the night air, we heard a gurgling GLOOOSH, followed by the scream of "FUUUCK!" and the nails-on-chalkboard sound of Damsel's power going off. I was pretty sure I saw the indigo glow of her power through one of the windows.

"She blew up the toilet, as far as I can tell," Janet said calmly. "There's water going everywhere."

Flicking on the interior light, I rolled dice in the small hand-held tray. We were sourcing glow-in-the-dark dice, but right now we didn't have that. Once I read the result, I turned the light off again with a sense of satisfaction.

"Well?" demanded Annette impatiently. "Don't keep us in suspense here. Did it work?"

"I got her, if that's what you're asking," Janet reported imperturbably. "I turned her toilet into a fountain while she was sitting on it. Also, just so everyone knows, she takes the concept of 'hair trigger' and makes it uniquely hers."

"She's not going to be leaving town anytime soon," I noted, over the muffled sounds of Annette trying hard not to rupture herself by holding in near-irrepressible giggles. It was definitely funny, I would've been the first to admit, but I lacked her appreciation for toilet humour. "But she'll be looking around for a new hideout before she starts recruiting. That one's a dead loss."

"So, our work here is done?" asked Dad, from the driver's seat.

I nodded. "Totally. Let's go home. School night and all."

As we started off, Janet turned to me. "Uh, Taylor, how many clean outfits does she have right now?"

I turned on the interior light and rolled percentile dice. "Huh. Unless she came to town with a thousand dresses stuffed into her backpack, that's a big fat zero."

Annette's heaving snorts finally broke free into cackling laughter. "Well, shit!" she whooped, not giving a damn who heard us.

I grinned across at Dinah, who was also starting to giggle. Stage 1 of Operation Ragequit was off to a very good start.

<><>​

Damsel of Distress

Ashley was pissed.

For once in her life, everything had been going smoothly. As she'd walked the streets of Brockton Bay, she could see the sheer potential inherent there. Not only had she located a place to stay with heartening ease, but she'd also made initial contact with some of the local disaffected youths, contact she intended to renew and build into a recruitment drive.

With her best dress cleaned and dried for the occasion, she'd been prepping to go out when the insistent call of nature finally got her to sit down and have a piss. It must've been something in the Brockton Bay water, she figured; she just hadn't been drinking all that much. But she didn't want to be walking around looking for followers while crossing her legs at the same time, so into the bathroom she went.

She was entirely unprepared for the jet of water that had erupted from the commode, without so much as a rumble from the pipes as a warning. It had struck her exactly where a sitting person could expect to be struck, and shot her clear out of the tiny cubicle into the room beyond. In sheer reaction (and not a little anger) she'd loosed an energy blast back at her perceived attacker, utterly disintegrating the toilet and the wall behind it. Water was now fountaining up from the severed pipes and flooding the area; worse, her dress was totally soaked (and from the smell of it, it hadn't only been water).

Rescuing her meagre belongings from the encroaching flood, she left the offending building behind. Not only was she going to have to wash her clothes all over again, she knew, but she also needed to locate somewhere else to squat that had electricity, internet and running water. Which meant that her recruitment plans were on hold until she had all that sorted out.

In the distance, she thought she heard someone laughing like a mad person. She knew intellectually that this had nothing to do with her, but some small part of her chose to believe otherwise. Because the world was against her. It was a fact.

I swear, I didn't have one-tenth this much trouble in Stafford.

<><>​

Tuesday Evening
Hebert Household Basement

Taylor

The basement actually looked quite nice after the effort Annette and I had put into cleaning it up. We'd lugged the whiteboard downstairs, and Dad had located a folding table somewhere; the lighting problem was partially solved by an old standing lamp that had been tucked into the corner for years. With the cobwebs cleared off and a new bulb installed in the socket, it augmented the tired old light over the stairs quite nicely.

"Nice," Dinah observed, looking the room over as she came down the stairs. "I think the guys will enjoy it as a gaming room too. It'll definitely do the job."

"We're going to need more lighting than this," Dad said as he fiddled with the lamp to see if he could raise it somewhat. "Also, we can swing by a thrift store sometime in the next few days and see what we can pick up in the way of extra chairs."

"That'd be great, thanks." I looked around the room critically. "Still, I don't think we need to be having our meeting down here this time."

"Not until we get enough chairs for everyone, no," agreed Annette.

We all trooped upstairs, and I helped Dad arrange refreshments for the people who were coming over; in the event, this turned out to be everyone except for Browbeat. While he and the PRT were fully aware that we knew of his true allegiance, we were just as happy as they were for everyone to pretend that there were no secret Wards in our team, no sir! This way, the PRT got to keep an eye on our shenanigans (for the most part) and we got the benefit of a husky young man who could seriously punch someone clear across the room and halfway through the wall on the other side.

Also, while I wasn't interested in romance any time soon, it was nice to have some eye candy around from time to time. And let's face it, Legend's way too old for me.

I greeted Lisa with a hug when she showed up, then helped Theo and Kayden with Aster. The little munchkin was growing on us all, and I could kind of understand why Kayden would fight the world to keep her safe. As it was, she had gotten to the stage where she could pull herself up using furniture, and her first unassisted step was due any day now.

Amy and Vicky were the last to arrive, which meant Amy got to sit on Annette's lap, an arrangement that suited both of them. I handed out glasses of juice, then took my seat on the couch. "So, who wants to lead off?" I asked.

"I'll do it." Annette gave Amy one last snuggle, then addressed the room. "Last night, we went out to mess up Damsel's night. Dinah kept an eye on matters while Taylor rolled dice, then when the time was right, Janet turned Damsel's toilet into a high-powered bidet."

Amy's eyes widened. "You didn't!"

"We totally did." I grinned as Vicky seemed to be trying hard not to burst out laughing. "She wrecked the hideout, so she's not going to be settled again until tomorrow night. That's when we'll be going out to smack her again."

"What's that one going to entail?" asked Janet, reasonably enough. "If we hit her with another water mishap, she's going to figure out pretty soon that she's being messed with."

Annette shook her head. "Nope. Next time it'll be a lack of something." As she explained, Janet began to nod in understanding.

"You have a horrible, horrible imagination," Lisa observed once we were all filled in on what stage two of Operation Ragequit entailed. "Congratulations; there are very few people I will never mess with, and you just made that list."

Andrea grinned and leaned forward to share a high-five with Annette. "You're welcome," she said as she sat back again. "It's a nasty world out there, with all sorts of high-powered individuals willing to mess with the little guy. I've done my best to arm Annette with the tools to mess right back, or to figure out ways around them. The most important one being the willingness to go to absolutely any lengths to win, if the circumstances require it."

I looked at her with the dawning of a new understanding. Most people meeting Andrea Campbell for the first time would see what she wanted them to see: a happy-go-lucky, somewhat ditzy woman, making her way through life, uncaring of what other people thought of her lifestyle. And she was all of that, but there was more to her than met the eye. In order to be able to live her life like that in the face of all the unpleasantness in the world, she'd had to cultivate an unbreakable core, resistant to all the pressures that others could bring to bear on her.

I had no doubt she'd made mistakes and missteps—getting involved with Kaiser in the first place hadn't been her best move ever—but she'd always picked herself up, dusted herself off, and moved on. Annette had clearly been unplanned, and yet she was clearly loved and cared for, to the best of Andrea's capabilities. There were hidden depths to Andrea Campbell, and I wondered if Dad knew of them. Then I saw his expression as he looked at her, and I revised that to wondering how much he knew about them.

"Well, yes," agreed Kayden. "It would've been nice if Max had seen fit to do the same thing with Theo, instead of trying to force him into a mold he just wasn't suited for." She reached out to ruffle her stepson's hair where he was seated on the floor, playing with Aster.

"Pretty sure there's any number of sins we can lay at Max Anders' door," Dad agreed. "And we can go over them later in detail. However, we need to cover more pressing matters right now. What's the current situation with Gesellschaft and the convoys to transport the Empire capes?"

That was my cue. "Well, we've told the PRT when the bad guys are coming into town. Interestingly enough, that's the same day and hour as when they're moving out along the same roads. Also, they've distributed the planned routes to their people, including to the moles we've identified, so by now Gesellschaft has that information too."

Annette took up the narrative. "All jokes about the PRT aside, I don't think Director Piggot's a congenital idiot. If she's moving those people at that time, where they will absolutely cross paths with the very people who are determined to intercept the convoy, then she's got a reason for it."

"Which she does," Dinah confirmed. "My power confirms that she's the best person for the job of taking the last chance the Empire has of regaining power in this region, and shooting it right in the head."

"Oh, good." Vicky looked vaguely relieved. "I'd hate to have to go to Mom and Dad and try to explain exactly what's going wrong and how I know about it. Because you know we couldn't just stand by and let it happen, if it did go down that way."

"Well, then," summarised Amy cheerfully. "It looks like a lot of crap is going to be hitting a lot of fans tomorrow night."

Annette grinned. "I just hope we've got enough popcorn."



End of Part Twenty-Three

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Twenty-Four: Two-Pronged Defence

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



Midday Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Just Outside Boston

Walter Rajchman, Gesellschaft Operative

The four vehicles had been chosen for their anonymity, mechanical reliability and passenger capacity, not for any Hollywood-esque coolness factor. If this had been a movie, utterly ignoring the need for running under the radar, they would've been identical sleek black SUVs complete with tinted windows and the latest espionage technology.

In reality, one was white, another a peeling green, and the third was brown fading to an off-pink. The last one was actually black, but it was also a panel van with an obviously amateurish paint job. No movie operative worth his double-O code would be seen dead within fifty metres of any one of them, which made them perfect for the job at hand.

They were currently pulled up in the parking lot of a 7-11, and ten of them were discussing their next move while the other two maintained a watch for casual eavesdroppers. To any onlookers, they would've looked like tourists; the map spread out over the hood of the green SUV was intended to bolster that illusion.

Equally important was the fact that they were all dressed casually, even the capes. Ball caps were as far as Walter would allow when it came to hiding their features; used correctly, they blocked security cameras, while none of the people they met would remember their faces if given no reason to. They'd been polite and friendly with the 7-11 attendant while buying their food, which meant he'd forget them as soon as the next customer came along.

He took a bite out of his microwaved hot-dog (tasty, yet filled with God knew how many preservatives) while tapping the map with his fingernail. "Our assets within the PRT have all given us the same information. The Empire Eighty-Eight will be transported to secure holding in a convoy of PRT vehicles travelling along one of these three routes. The timing of these transports means that they'll be leaving town just as we're getting there."

Blitzkrieger spoke up. "Will we be able to intercept them on time? This sudden action sounds suspicious to me."

"Yes, Pauli, we will." Walter was making a point of using real names on this mission, so nobody slipped and used a cape name in casual conversation. Once the costumes came on it would be a different matter, but until then they were all perfectly normal tourists, ja? "And it makes sense if you look at the larger picture. Their PRT building is good, but it is only intended as short-term holding. Also, they must suspect that we have people within their ranks, even if they do not know who. Thus, the longer they hold the villains captive, the more chance of either an attack on the building or a breakout from within. Moving them to more secure holding is the logical next step."

Hans frowned. A large blunt-featured man, he nonetheless had a keen analytical mind. "So, is it simply alternate routing, or are there decoy convoys?"

And there was the problem. "Decoy convoys," confirmed Walter. "The convoy crews have been told to memorise all three routes, so they won't know which one they'll be following until the time comes, and they won't know who'll be taking the Empire capes until that moment as well. So, as of right now, we don't know which way they'll be going or even if we'll have people in that convoy."

Eisenadler was a Tinker, and thus twitchy when outside his flying powersuit. He looked even less happy than normal. "So how are we supposed to free them?" His tone seemed to suggest that the American PRT should be handing the cape prisoners to them on a platter.

"It's simple." It wasn't simple, but Walter considered himself an optimist. "We hold off until the convoys are on the way and the drivers are informed as to which of them has the Empire capes on board. Our people will be in at least one of the convoys, probably two, hopefully all three. We will thus be able to ignore at least one of the convoys. If we're still looking at two, then you and Pauli will attack one, assisted by myself and Hans. Kessler will take the rest of our force after the other one, mainly to slow it down in the event that the one we hit is a decoy; if that happens, you and Pauli have the speed to catch up with them."

"So, I am heading the attack on one convoy myself?" Sturmsoldat didn't sound thrilled with the idea. "They are likely to have capes, and they are guaranteed to have armed troopers."

"You'll have seven men along with you," Walter reminded him. "And if the Empire Eighty-Eight is on board, they'll count as your allies as well." Sturmsoldat was a low-end Brute-Mover combo whose capabilities increased dramatically with each ally he had on site. Alone, he was a match for maybe one or two PRT troopers; with a bunch of friends present, he could punch far above his weight. "But that's assuming all our assets are concentrated on the one convoy, and it's not the one carrying Night and Fog and the others. The odds are quite favourable that we'll know exactly which one, and reasonably good that our people will be on that one."

Blitzkrieger frowned. "You have just four of us attacking one of the convoys, then transitioning to the one Kessler is attacking if ours turns out to be a decoy, yes?"

Walter wasn't quite sure where he was going with this, but the question was accurate. "Correct. Why?"

"As Kessler depends on allies present, I depend on having someone present for my speed." Blitzkrieger spread his hands. "If Jürgen flies on ahead, and you are taking a different route because you can't go off-road, who am I supposed to draw upon?"

Eisenadler sighed. "I can carry you." His tone made it clear that he didn't want to, but that he would if he had no other choice.

"What?" Blitzkrieger brought his head up, clearly offended. "I'm a verdammter Mover, not some helpless verfickter civilian. Nobody carries me."

No matter the cape's injured feelings, Walter could not let that pass. "First, you will do as you are ordered, and if being carried gets you there faster, then you will allow yourself to be carried. Second, we are in America. Use English swears only. It doesn't matter what we say, so long as we don't raise our voices or say it in a way that attracts attention. Speaking another language is a prime way to achieve that."

Blitzkrieger muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'Jawohl, mein Herr,' but nodded all the same.

"What was that?" asked Walter.

"I said, 'yes sir, as you wish'." Blitzkrieger wouldn't meet his eyes.

Walter didn't feel like pursuing it. "Good. Jürgen, do you have a problem with carrying him?" The words 'there'd better not be a problem' hovered in the air, but didn't need to be said.

"I already said I would, didn't I?" It wasn't quite an answer to Walter's question, but again he didn't feel like pushing matters. The last thing the strike force needed was to tear itself apart over imagined grievances.

I can't wait until this is over and done, and the Empire Eighty-Eight has taken their rightful place in Brockton Bay.

That place would be as a vassal to Gesellschaft, of course. The Empire would owe them for this.

<><>​

Wednesday Evening

Damsel of Distress

I'm going to get it right this time.

Ashley knew this with every fibre of her being.

The abandoned warehouse was decrepit and musty, but she didn't give a shit about that. She'd long since gotten used to dirt and mold and bugs where she lived. Only wimps whined about that sort of thing.

One of the closets held a folded up camp-cot. She'd managed to get it unfolded (fighting against rust and lack of oil all the way) without accidentally blasting it in half, which she considered a win. It was dusty as fuck, and probably had bugs living in it, but they could just lump it.

In the back room of the manager's office, she scored big-time; not only was there a dinky little shower cubicle (she had to pull in her elbows to turn around in it) but they'd also managed to cram in a washer-dryer. If she ever met the guy who'd arranged for this, she figured she might just give him a bit wet kiss. Or at least refrain from murdering him, anyway.

It took a bit of fiddling and swearing and a hole blown through the water heater (fuck it, she'd go with cold) to get the water connected back up to the washer-dryer. An ancient bottle on a shelf, once de-cobwebbed, yielded up lumpy laundry powder. She'd dealt with worse.

The clothing she was going to wear to the recruitment meeting went into the washer, and she carefully crushed the lumps out of the powder before putting that in too. Then she closed the little door, turned the knob, and pressed the go button. Wonder of wonders, water started gurgling into the machine.

Fucking yes! This is gonna be awesome!

Straightening up with a satisfied smile, she got out of the grungy clothing she'd been wearing for the last couple of days and stepped into the shower cubicle. She'd already taken a piss before putting her clothes on to wash, so she wouldn't have to go until after the meeting. While she still had no idea what had caused the toilet in the last place to go berserk, she wasn't about to risk that shit again in a hurry.

As the first trickles of water emerged from the shower head, she closed her eyes and started massaging it into her hair.

<><>​

Random

I checked my watch against the number I'd rolled on the dice. "Okay, she's stepping into the shower … now."

"Excellent." I saw Annette's teeth flash white in the dim light as she whispered the word. "So, where's that unlocked door again?"

"This way." I cupped the flashlight in my hand so the beam illuminated just the floor in front of my feet, and led the way; Annette and Lisa followed along. The door hinges squeaked a little, but I'd anticipated that and opened it slowly.

We made our way to the fusebox, and teased it open. Nobody was saying a word, mainly because we could clearly hear Damsel's voice rising in off-key song over the rumble of the washer-dryer. We wanted her singing, because that way we knew where she was.

I let the beam of the flashlight fall on the interior of the box, and gave Lisa the nod. She pointed out the three fuses we needed to pull, and we each grabbed one. After a soft 'three … two … one', we each yanked hard, pulling the appropriate fuse out. There was a pop and a spark, and the lights in the manager's office went out. At the same time, the washer-dryer rumbled to a stop.

Damsel of Distress stopped singing and waited for a moment. Then she must have realised that the washer-dryer wasn't operating. "Oh, what the fuck?"

"Quick!" Lisa hissed, handing out the replacement fuses. Dad had acquired these for us. They were identical to the ones we'd removed, but were utterly burned out and no good for anything.

We shoved them into place, I closed the fuse box, and we started sneaking out of there. It was imperative that we not be seen, because if she even got an inkling that she was being deliberately sabotaged, it would screw up all our efforts. Worse, if she caught us on site, she would absolutely murder us out of hand.

This was going to be a lot more difficult than the entrance, for the very simple reason that if she came to the window in the manager's office, she could oversee the entire warehouse. There wasn't a ton of cover, so the only thing I could do was turn off the flashlight when Lisa told me to.

Twice I had to do just that, blessing the fact that we were all wearing dark clothing with our hair tucked under hoods. At a distance, a crouching person in the dark looks just like any other shadow, or at least I hoped we did.

Finally, she found what she was looking for: specifically, a flashlight of her own. But she didn't sweep the warehouse with it, which was good. It was only a matter of time, though, so we didn't hang around; out the door we went, closing it carefully behind us.

We were almost to the car when the anticipated storm hit. "Oh, for FUCK'S SAKE!" The scream was accompanied by an indigo-hued blast that took out part of one wall.

Giggling, we tumbled into the car. The engine had been idling all this time; Dad simply put it in gear and we cruised off down the street. In the front seat, Janet turned around and offered a high-five. I returned it.

"You are mean," Lisa said mock-severely to Annette. "I never would've thought of all of that."

"It's like Mom says." Annette leaned back in her seat complacently. "If you're gonna fuck with someone, you gotta do stuff they can't just fix. Turning out the lights on its own was never gonna cut it. She's gonna remember tonight."

<><>​

The Gesellschaft Contingent

Walter knew that the Empire assets couldn't make phone calls, but text messages were entirely possible. As such, code words had been arranged for various contingencies. Which meant that as the four-vehicle group neared Brockton Bay, he was paying very close attention to his phone.

ping

As soon as the chime sounded, he tapped the screen to bring up the message.

Umbrella Charlie 2 Alpha*

That meant the message was from Lieutenant Jasper Reed, that he was in Convoy C, which was following route 2. His message also conveyed that the Empire contingent was in Convoy A, but there was a complication.

"Okay," he said out loud. "We know they're in Convoy A, and that they're on route one or three. Also, there's more information. Pass that on."

"On it," Hans replied immediately.

ping

Dogsled Bravo 1 Alpha 2nd​ half*

His eyebrows rose as he smiled. "Well, alright then. It seems the PRT is trying to be sneaky. They're cramming the capes into fewer vehicles. If I'm reading this right, they'll be on route three, according to asset Dogsled." He couldn't recall the man's name right now, but that didn't matter. "Also, they're confined to the latter half of the convoy."

"Well, that'll make it a lot easier," agreed Hans.

ping

Mandrake Charlie 2 Alpha 3 DS in 2**

"Hm." He frowned. "Mandrake says they're in Convoy Alpha, and that Night is in the second van …" A moment later, he realised what was going on. "Ah, the second van of the part of the convoy they're in. Eight vans, so she's in van six."

ping

Ladder Alpha 3 Alpha even only**

"Huh. Well, now. They must be really cramming them in." He showed the text to Hans. "Latter half of the convoy, even numbers only? For an eight-van convoy, that's two vans." He recalled Mandrake's message. "And Night's in van eight, not six."

ping

Purple Alpha 3 Alpha GS in 1**

"Bingo!" He allowed himself a single fist pump. "It's Convoy A, on route three. Fog's in van six, Night's in van eight. We've got them."

"Excellent." Hans smiled. "I'll pass that on. Route three it is."

Walter shook his head in mild surprise. "And right on the tail-end of the convoy, too. They couldn't have made it easier for us if they'd tried."

"Playing to our assumptions." Hans sounded thoughtful. "We'd naturally assume the Empire capes would be spread over the entire convoy, or concentrated up the front, because that's the logical assessment."

"It was a trap." The realisation made Walter chuckle with relief. "And we nearly fell for it."

"Damn right."

<><>​

Damsel of Distress

You have got to be fucking shitting me. My luck was never this bad in Stafford.

Ashley didn't have a towel to wrap around herself, so she'd gotten dressed in the grungy clothing she had on before. Wet grit shifted between her skin and the cloth, and she suppressed the urge to blast herself clean while she was still wearing it. She would, though, as soon as she got the chance.

Pulling open the fuse box, she glowered at the offending objects, trying to see if they'd somehow shifted. But when she pulled one free, she could clearly see the blackening and charring that told her it was fucked. Hurling it to the ground, she stomped back up the stairs and leaned down to peer through the little window where her best dress floated in water so filled with dirt that she couldn't see through it.

When she'd first gotten out of the shower, she didn't realise what had happened (apart from the lights going out, duh) until she fetched the flashlight. That was when she saw the streaks of dirt on her skin, and went to check on the dress. Up until then, the night had been salvageable. But when she saw the state it was in, and realised that the washer-dryer door was locked, that was when she'd obliterated the shower stall and the wall beyond.

How the fuck did that even happen? I tested the water first! It ran clear!

Without electricity, her dress would basically marinate in the gunk that had somehow gotten stirred up out of the pipes until she managed to lever the damn door off the washer-dryer. And she couldn't simply blow a hole through the washer-dryer, because there was a better than even chance that she'd wreck the dress in the process.

She needed to either find new fuses or a pry-bar, preferably both. Though from the way the water was spraying out of the hole in the wall, she'd just cut the pipes leading to the washer-dryer. Which meant even if she got it going, it still wouldn't be able to clean her dress properly. And the night just keeps getting fucking better.

Heading into the manager's office, she started delving through the desk drawers and cupboards, but found absolutely nothing to help her out. Even the door marked 'Supply Closet' only yielded up a non-working ballpoint pen. She threw it across the room, then followed up with a blast that destroyed the pen as well as part of the wall behind it.

"Shitfuckmotherfuckerassholedingleberry!" Shouting it all in one breath relieved a little of her anger. She tried to think it through. What do I need to do? How do I fix this shit?

The first thing, she decided, was to get clean herself. The gritty, slimy feeling of the sediment on her skin and in her hair was starting to drive her nuts. Stripping out of her clothing, she left it on a pile on the desk in the manager's office, then went down the stairs barefoot. Dropping the flashlight on the bottom step, she took several paces away, then started blasting herself clean.

The main thing she had to worry about was to make sure she didn't accidentally wreck the stairs. Her blast scoured the dirt off her like it had never existed, leaving her skin and hair clean and dry. Once she was done, she stepped over the shallow crater she'd torn in the concrete floor, picked up the flashlight, and headed back up the stairs.

Once she was dressed again, she returned to the back room and examined the washer/dryer closely. As far as she could tell, there were two ways to get the dress out. The first was to somehow connect the washer-dryer up to electricity and a clean water supply, and let it finish its cycle.

The second was to blow the fuck out of it, while avoiding the dress.

Blow the fuck out of it, it is.

Cupping her hand so that the energy built up in the cradle of her fingers, she did her best to accumulate just enough power to do what she wanted, then let it go right next to the indented window. It detonated, wrecking the door and part of the floor, but not too badly. Filthy water poured out of the washer-dryer, which would never again wash or dry anything, then she wrenched the door open and pulled out her dress.

"Fucking yes!" she exulted, holding the dress up. Something was finally going her way …

… except that it really wasn't. The dress was still dirty, and now the washer-dryer wasn't even working. Also, her blast at the shower had taken out the tiny wash-basin.

God fucking dammit. The night was a wash, no matter how she looked at it.

<><>​

Random

I finished rolling the dice, and sat back. Annette looked over at me expectantly. "So, did she wreck the dress?"

"Not as such, no." I gave her a grin. "But it's filthy, and she's absolutely livid. Taking away her electricity was a genius move. She's gonna be moving again, and she won't find a place to settle down until tomorrow night. Also, her potential recruitment base is starting to lose interest. Two no-shows in a row is not the way to impress them."

"How about the Empire and Gesellschaft?" asked Dad from the front seat of the car.

My head came up. "Right, thanks for the reminder. I need to call Dinah." Handing Lisa the dice tray, I dug out my phone. Dinah's number was, of course, already in my favourites list. As the car rolled down the street, I tapped the icon to call her, then hit speaker as the phone call went through.

"Hi, Taylor. What's the good news?"

I grinned. "Well, Damsel is not having a great night of it. In other news, can you please ping Director Piggot and let her know that the canary trap worked, and Gesellschaft will be attacking the indicated vans in the next five to ten minutes?"

The grin was evident in her voice as she replied. "I'm pretty sure I can do that. Dunno how thrilled she'll be that we figured out what she's doing to confirm her moles, but that's totally not my problem."

"Well, at least she's taking the notion seriously." I knew that if we'd approached things just a little differently, it would've been all too easy for Piggot to dismiss everything we said as hearsay and wild accusations. Even the idea of sending Leviathan elsewhere came across as pretty crazy, if you didn't know how good we really were.

"Very true. So, what happened with Damsel?"

I snickered. "She wrecked her shower cubicle and damaged the washer-dryer badly, and her dress is loaded down with all the gunk that was just sitting there innocently in the pipes until Janet stirred it up. Without power, the TV in the manager's office won't work, so she'll be moving on in the morning. Again."

"Awesome. Well, I've gotta message Piggot, so I'll see you guys later."

"Later," I said, just as the call ended. I turned my attention to Annette. "Okay, so what's next in Operation Rage Quit?"

If Annette's grin hadn't been evil enough, the sinister chuckle would've clinched the deal. "Well, so far she's been through two potential home bases which have ended in disaster, but she's hanging on anyway, yeah?"

Lisa nodded, but a little doubtfully, as though she wasn't quite sure where Annette was going with this. "Yeah. So?"

"So, she still thinks she can win." Annette looked around at each of us. "She's fixated on the idea that if she hangs on just a little longer, she'll hit the magical combination of factors that will allow her to stay, to build her gang base, and to start taking over Brockton Bay. Sunk cost fallacy for the win. But the key to beating her …" she paused dramatically, "… is her dress."

Lisa's eyes widened fractionally. "Ah."

"Her dress?" I frowned. "How does that factor in? It's just a dress."

"Says the girl who's never dressed to impress, like ever." Annette reached past Lisa to ruffle my hair playfully. "If she's gonna recruit, she's gotta meet people and get their attention. She's got to look the part of a successful supervillain. Power she's got in spades, but she also needs presentation. And for that, she's pinning all her hopes on her best dress. Which has gotten soiled twice in a row … but it's still intact."

"Uh huh." Lisa raised an eyebrow. "Something tells me that state of affairs is not going to last much longer."

Annette steepled her fingers, in the very best tradition of Saturday morning cartoon scheming supervillains everywhere. "Mwahahaha."

<><>​

Director Piggot, PRT ENE

Sitting at her desk, Emily glowered at her computer screen. The message was good news in a way, in that it didn't signify that something had gone drastically wrong. It still wasn't good news, though. In fact, it was quite unsettling.

Still, she had a message to pass on.

Taking up her phone, she selected Armsmaster's number; out of everyone on this operation, she knew he could take a call straight to his helmet. It rang exactly once before he accepted the call. "Director?"

"Armsmaster," she greeted him. "I just got an email from Shadow Team. According to Management, the canary trap worked, and Gesellschaft will be hitting the indicated vans in two to seven minutes."

There was a pause before he responded. "I wasn't aware we were sharing details of the operation with them."

"We weren't." She gritted her teeth. "The first I knew of it was the message, just now."

"Ah." There was a world of comprehension in that single syllable. "I'll spread the word. Thank you, ma'am."

"Copy that. Piggot, out." She cut the call, then sat back in her chair. Thinkers are so goddamn annoying. A moment later, that thought was superseded by another. What else do they know about our operations that we haven't shared with them yet?

She muttered a few curses under her breath. Intrusive thoughts like that were the type guaranteed to keep her awake at night.

<><>​

Walter

"That's the convoy, just up ahead. Right where our intel said it would be." Hans sounded pleased with himself. His announcement had been mostly unnecessary—the eight-strong convoy of heavy PRT vans coming up on the other side of the divided highway was very hard to miss—but Walter appreciated the need to make it. It was always thoroughly satisfying when a plan came together.

"Where can we turn?" As he asked the question, he kept his eyes on the PRT vehicles, alert for any change of pace or other indication that they'd made his group for what they were.

"One hundred metres ahead. There's a turning section for emergency vehicles." Hans sounded entirely unconcerned that they were about to break the law, mainly because he cared as little about it as Walter himself did. The minor traffic misdemeanour would be vastly overshadowed by the felony about to take place.

"I see it." Walter tapped the driver on the shoulder. "Turn there."

The instruction was largely superfluous, just as Hans's comment had been. Walter knew the driver was on the ball, but he couldn't not say it. Right then, they were all riding the knife-edge of adrenaline, and some things just had to happen.

The SUV slowed and the driver pulled them into a U-turn that put them on the correct side of the highway, with the taillights of the PRT vans fading into the distance. Walter knew that the following vehicles would be executing the same manoeuvre, and he tensed in anticipation. Picking up the handheld radio he'd acquired for communicating with the other vehicles, he thumbed the talk button. "Attention all vehicles. Plan A is in force. I say again, Plan A. Acknowledge." One by one, the replies came back.

Plan A was relatively simple in execution, though 'simple' did not necessarily mean 'easy'. Two vehicles would go up on either side of the convoy, so that they could bracket the two vans carrying the Empire Eighty-Eight capes. Van seven would be riddled with gunfire, and then they'd shoot out the tyres of vans six and eight to bring them to a halt.

When the action started, Walter would activate the radio jammer they'd acquired, so that nobody in the first five vans would have a clear picture of what was happening. By the time they reacted and started turning around to come back and assist their fellows, the prisoner transport vans would be open and the Empire capes would be free to assist their rescuers. At that point, the odds would shift dramatically to the Gesellschaft side; they would easily fight off any counter-attacks, disable the opposition vehicles, and escape in their own transports.

At least, that was the plan. He knew quite well how things could shift and change in the heat of battle, but an attack from surprise had the most chance of succeeding. And it wasn't like the ENE Protectorate had any major league Thinkers to warn them ahead of time.

<><>​

Armsmaster

"Steady … steady …" Colin watched the outputs for the discreet cameras that had been emplaced on each of the vans. "It's as we were briefed. They're coming up on either side. Remember the plan and stick to it."

His HUD was displaying a simple diagram which seemed to have been sketched out with pencil, photographed, then emailed to Director Piggot before being forwarded to him. It showed the last four vans in the convoy, with the four attacking vehicles bracketing the sixth and eighth vans. This was something he'd already known was coming; much more useful was the information jotted down next to each car, including which Gesellschaft cape was in which vehicle, and how many unpowered attackers there were.

While he knew how irritated Director Piggot was about the technical security risk of having Thinkers divine her plans before they were made, having data like this to hand was incredibly valuable. He would also have been far more comfortable if Shadow Team had been firmly under PRT command, but he was also fully aware that any attempt to force the issue would at best turn them off being helpful. At worst … he shuddered to think of how much damage they could do if they decided to actively oppose the PRT's efforts to maintain law and order.

The first two vehicles came up past the last van, then the black panel van on the right held steady next to the second last van, while the green SUV on the left moved onward. As though a switch had been flipped, the sliding door of the panel van slammed open and three men opened fire on the seventh van with assault rifles. High-velocity rounds shattered the driver's side window and punctured lethal patterns of holes in the side of the PRT van.

As the stricken vehicle swerved off the road and into the ditch, Colin keyed his radio. "Tango. Tango. Tango."

<><>​

Walter

The rattle of automatic fire was music to his ears, and he watched the van veer off the road, where it ran into the ditch and promptly rolled over several times. It was still rolling by the time his vehicle passed it, but he didn't care enough to watch it. He pressed the button on his radio. "Well done. Now the tyres!"

However, when he released the button, there was no reply; nothing but a dull unmusical warble. What? What's going on?

That was his first intimation that all was not going as planned.

The next was when the front four PRT vans reacted as one. Two swerved into the ditches and slowed dramatically, while the other two went left and right and hit their brakes while remaining on the road. He was still reacting to that when the panel van and the white car reached the front van and started pouring autofire into the tyres. At the same time, more gunfire was aimed at the tyres of the last van in line.

Blitzkrieger opened the car door and activated his power. Lightning-like streams attached to everyone in the vehicle, and Walter felt his perceptions start to slow down as the cape literally stole his speed. The Mover blurred away toward the rear of the last van and reached for the handle of the rear doors, but then his feet went out from under him and he went down, tumbling over and over; Walter caught a blurred impression of a sheen of oil on the road.

Eisenadler had been airborne all this time, shadowing the vehicles. Now he came streaking down out of the night sky, wing-mounted guns tracking bullets in for a strafing run on the other PRT vans. A hatch in the top of the fifth van popped open and someone stood up out of it. Walter saw a greenish-black cloud coalesce into a long-barrelled rifle, which spat a six-foot muzzle flare a second later.

The airborne Tinker tried to swerve but the heavy bullet hit his right wing, shattering off its mount. Unbalanced, he pinwheeled into the trees at the side of the road. Walter didn't see any more of him after that; in the meantime, the rifle had become two Uzis, which the shooter used to spray bullets at both the bracketing cars at once. Hit repeatedly in the engines, both cars swerved off the road into the ditch.

Sturmsoldat can do it. He has to. If he can free the Empire prisoners …

At the last moment, he saw Sturmsoldat launch himself from his shot-up car to a spot on top of the second-last van, and swing down to the rear doors. Hanging on with one hand, he wrenched at the handle. For a miracle, it opened. Walter held his breath; boosted by his allies within the van, Sturmsoldat would be able to free them, and the Empire capes could fight their way clear …

The stream of containment foam that blasted out of the back of the van, hit Sturmsoldat in the chest, and glued him to the hood of the van behind was the signal that this was not to be. In just seconds, the entire operation had gone from a rousing success to a crippling defeat. The only option left was to retreat. "Get us out of here!" he shouted. "Drive!"

"Uh …" The driver indicated the PRT van directly in front, no longer concealed by the panel van that had been ahead of them.

Walter looked, and blanched.

The rear doors of the van were open to reveal a minigun with spinning barrels, and a trooper crouched behind it. Beside the gun was a sign that his headlights picked up just fine: PULL OVER NOW.

It was a trap, he realised belatedly as the driver began to apply the brakes. They saw us coming the whole time. But how?

It was a puzzle he would worry over for quite some time to come.

<><>​

Hebert Household

Random

"Well, come on," Annette playfully groused as I rolled the dice. "Give us the skinny. The dope. The straight word. What happened?"

"Hush," Amy chided her, equally playfully. "She'll tell us when she's finished rolling." She nuzzled her nose in next to Annette's ear, then blew a raspberry on her neck.

"Eep!" Annette sat up straight, then turned to Amy with vengeance evidently on her mind. "You just wait! I'll—"

"Okay, done." I sat back. "So, the trap went off without a hitch. The Gesellschaft guys shot up the seventh van, which was empty and being driven on remote with a dummy in the driver's seat. Then they tried to shoot out the tyres of the other two vans, but they'd had heavy-duty run-flats installed. Blitzkrieger tried to get into the back of the rear van …" I paused expectantly.

"Oil slick?" Annette was grinning broadly, having apparently forgotten the incipient scuffle with Amy. "Tell me they got to use the oil slick."

"They got to use the oil slick," I confirmed. "He's currently in custody, with a ton of road rash and a broken elbow. Miss Militia shot down Eisenadler, then knocked out the engines of the two front cars. And Armsmaster nailed Sturmsoldat with a containment foam cannon when he opened the rear doors of the other van."

Lisa fist-pumped. "Haha, yes! Score! And the others?"

"Meekly submitted to arrest, mainly because they had a fuck-off big minigun pointed at them." I grinned. "Pretty sure they're still not sure exactly what happened."

"Um …" Theo frowned. "So, if they weren't in those vans, which vans were they in?"

I smirked. "The convoy thing was mostly a bait and switch. They actually had Strider teleport them from the roof yesterday, embedded in containment foam."

Kayden snorted with amusement. "What do you mean by 'mostly'?"

It was Lisa's turn to grin. "Because one of the other convoys did have prisoners on board. Lung and Oni Lee. It was pretty certain that if Gesellschaft hit that one, they wouldn't be freeing them."

Dad shook his head slowly. "All in the name of avoiding conflict. I see."

"Well, the ones who started it didn't get what they wanted." I spread my hands. "And it got shot down hard. Literally, in Eisenadler's case. He's in custody, too."

"Look at it this way, Mr H." Annette put her arm around Amy's shoulders. "There's a lot of people who've got a vested interest in Brockton Bay remaining a conflict-ridden shithole. They'd put a ton of effort into keeping it that way, if they got the chance. So, it's not surprising that we have to put some effort into making sure that doesn't happen."

"Or, you know, outsource to the PRT." I idly rolled a die across the table, telling it to end up on a 20. "They've got capabilities that we just can't call on."

Amy nodded judiciously. "Well, true. I've seen some of that in action. The PRT only looks like it's ineffectual because it's being hampered in all directions. That Calvert asshole, feeding information to the other gangs. Poor intel in general. Tonight, we've seen what happens when they've got good information. The Gesellschaft wouldn't have known what hit 'em."

"Damn right." I reached out and gave her a high five. "And that's the name of the game."

"And tomorrow night …" Annette chuckled evilly. "We have another run at Damsel."

Amy gave her an exasperated look. "You are enjoying this way too much."

"Darn tootin'."

<><>​

Thursday Night, March 17, 2011

Damsel of Distress

Ashley was nearly at the end of her tether. Two crash-pads had gone sour on her, one after the other. Worse, her best dress was filthy; that would never pass muster for recruiting minions for her eventual takeover of the Brockton Bay criminal underworld.

She'd located an empty storefront and gathered together enough old cardboard boxes to sleep on, but while the place still had running water for basic amenities and electricity (she'd lugged the TV from the last place to there, so there'd damn well better be electricity) there was no place to wash her clothing. And she wasn't about to try to hand wash it, not after the last disastrous attempt (one comforter and one bathtub, ruined). So, it was time to find someplace that would wash the dress for her.

An hour later, she located a laundromat that was open for business. While she would've been tempted to just blast open a change-box and get some quarters that way, there were two customers already on site, both teenagers. The exact target demographic she was looking to recruit, in fact.

Rule number one was to always be confident. It wasn't hard; she was the toughest, smartest person in the room at all times, so she just had to let it show through. "Evening." Marching over to the nearest unoccupied machine, she opened it and emptied the plastic bag holding her dirty laundry into it.

"Hi." The redhead had been doodling on her phone, but now she put it away. "Are you new around here? I love your hair."

"Yeah, just moved in from out of town." Ashley looked around for a detergent dispenser, then spotted a bottle on the machine beside the redhead. "Say, can I borrow some of your detergent? I've only got enough change for the machine itself." She had more than that, but she'd heard somewhere that the best way to get someone to think well of you was to get them to do you a favour. And she was always willing to accept free stuff.

"Oh, that's not mine. That's Lisa's." The redhead gestured to the freckled blonde teen who'd been typing away on her own phone. "Hey, Lisa. Can … what's your name again?"

"Call me Ash." It was a little early in the piece to be coming out with her villain name.

"Cool. Lisa, can Ash borrow some of your detergent?"

Lisa blinked and looked up from her phone, then gave Ashley a grin that shouted to the world, 'I love pulling shit on people!'. She could definitely use that. "Uh, sure. Ash, was it? Go ahead, use as much as you like." Picking up the bottle, she handed it over.

It wasn't a brand Ashley was familiar with, but there was a lavender scent as she poured it into the receptacle, so it would probably do the job. She gave it a solid dose, to make absolutely sure the dress would be as clean as possible, then screwed the cap back on and handed it back. Neither of the girls spoke as she set the wash timer, which was the way she liked it. Finally, she hit the button to set it going.

Turning back to them, she handed the bottle over. "Thanks, Lisa. Sorry, I didn't catch your name …?"

"Oh, I'm Annette." The redhead gave her a finger-wave. "It's nice to meet you, Ash. Most people who come in here just grunt and put their laundry on. Nobody wants to talk."

Ashley nodded. "Well, I can see how that could be irritating. So, what sort of after-school activities are there around here? Clubs, anything like that?"

Annette shared a glance with Lisa, then they both shook their heads. "No activities, no," Lisa informed her. "It's pretty slack, actually. Annette plays Dungeons & Dragons at a friend's place, and she's been trying to rope me in, but I'm not sure I see the point of it."

While Ashley had heard of the game, she had no actual understanding of it. "People still play that?" she ventured.

"Oh, totes." Annette grinned broadly. "I've been playing for years, and we picked up a few new players recently. My girlfriend's gonna be joining in the game on Saturday for the first time, and I am totally stoked."

Lisa gave her the side-eye. "You actually talked her into it? Wow, I thought she had more willpower than that."

"Hey." Annette made a top-to-toe gesture at herself. "She knows what she likes. So yeah, she's gonna be playing anything but a healer." They both laughed at some kind of in-joke that Ashley didn't get, and couldn't be bothered asking about.

She had never been interested in girls, but she was fine with other people doing what they wanted (so long as they also did what she wanted). Besides, a relationship meant a potential extra recruit. "So, uh, how many people play these games? At a time, I mean?"

Annette raised an eyebrow. "Well, let's see. The usual group is about four or five plus the DM. Our group has …" She began counting on her fingers, lips moving silently. "Six all up. Seven, now, with Ames."

That sounded like a good start on recruitment, given that Ashley suspected the last group she'd approached was probably losing interest by now. "What does it take to join a group like that? Do I need to buy stuff? Pay an entrance fee?" That shit would be refunded as soon as she took over, of course.

"Hah, no." Annette giggled and shook her head. "All you need is spare time and the desire to roll some dice and kick ass. If you're interested, you can give me your number. I'll talk it over with the others and get back to you, okay?"

Ashley nodded. "I can do that." She dictated her phone number, and Annette stored it in her own phone. "How long until I find out?"

"Tomorrow night at the latest." Annette gestured airily. "No big."

At that moment, two dryers rumbled to a halt. Lisa and Annette looked around, then opened them and started pulling out clothing, which they stored in cloth bags. "Well, see you later, Ash." Lisa gave her the same sort of fingertip-wave that Annette had, then picked up her bottle of detergent. "It was cool meeting you. If I ever join the game, I'll see you there."

Or maybe sooner. "Yup. See you then."

"See ya!" Annette opened the door of the laundromat and led the way out, Lisa following close behind.

Well, how about that. Ashley leaned back against one of the machines and gave herself a measured nod of approval. She'd definitely laid the groundwork, and six or seven (or maybe eight) recruits was a lot better than zero. While she knew nothing at all about Dungeons and Dragons, the entire internet was hers for the scouring, so it wouldn't hurt to do some basic research before Annette's call.

She was well down the rabbit hole, puzzling through the various esoteric terms used within the game, when her machine came to a halt and beeped at her. Putting her phone down, she opened the glass door and pulled out her dress … and froze. It was clean, but that was the least of it. The once-pristine black cloth was now slashed with washed-out grey and even splotches of white, dyed with muddy streaks of colours from the other clothes.

"What … the fuck?" She pawed through the rest of her clothing. It had been similarly affected. "What … the fuck?"

As she stared at the dress, she could feel her dreams crumbling around her. Ever since she'd come to Brockton Bay, everything she touched had turned to shit. Nothing had turned out right.

Okay, this is it. I've had it. I'm done.

She'd kept back enough money to buy a return ticket to Stafford. Not even 'just in case': ever since Boston, she'd always made sure to maintain an exit strategy. And now Brockton Bay had beaten her. Not with capes or cops, but with pure blind happenstance.

Everything in the city was against her. Everything.

And then, just to put the shitty cherry on top of the whole fucked-up cake, her power activated accidentally as she was bundling the still-wet clothing into the bag she'd brought it in, shredding the clothing along with the machine she'd pulled it out of. She was blown halfway across the laundromat, but managed to keep her feet. A long, ragged scream of frustration burst from her throat. "FUUUUUUUUUUCCCCK!" Devastation played across the laundromat until it was nothing but ruins from side to side.

As smoke trailed into the air, she stomped off down the street toward her latest squat. She couldn't even stand to sleep the night there; the bus depot had seats she could doze on. All I want to do is get out of this God-forsaken hellhole before anything else goes wrong.

As far as she was concerned, Brockton Bay could keep its shitty luck.



End of Part Twenty-Four

 

[Ack]

Alea Iacta Est

Part Twenty-Five: Preparations for Mayhem

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



Friday Morning, March 18, 2011
PRT ENE Building, Director's Office

Director Emily Piggot

The first cup of coffee for the morning smelled delicious; Emily sipped at it appreciatively, then set it aside as she booted up her computer. She'd learned long since that having any foodstuff or drink in hand while reading the morning skim sheet was just asking for trouble. The city had been remarkably quiet as regarded gang activity over the last few days—unsurprisingly, given that the major gangs had been taken down and folded up hard by Shadow Team—but she didn't trust it for a heartbeat.

If shit wanted to go down, then shit would absolutely go down.

The quiet part of Shadow Team's message—if we keep conflict to a minimum, Leviathan won't come here—also never strayed far from her mind. It raised mixed feelings within her; fear that Leviathan had been going to come to Brockton Bay, cautious hope that he might not … and muted terror over how they could know such a thing, and how to stop it from happening. The terrifying aspect was due to the fact that capes were human, and every human had their snapping point.

What could/would a cape like that do if they ever reached their snapping point? What uses could those powers be put to if they decided not to use them for the good of humankind? Could the PRT even stand against them if they chose to go there?

It wasn't that she distrusted Shadow Team for no good reason. Her distrust had a very solid, tangible reason. So far Shadow Team had been on the up-and-up, and had indeed done some good things for Brockton Bay, but that didn't factor into her thought processes, because any cape only ever had to snap once.

She didn't trust the Triumvirate either, and they'd never been able to predict Endbringers.

The computer finished going through its self-checking and security protocols, and popped up its start screen. She clicked through to her emails. There would invariably be something she had to deal with, and …

… second from the top was one with Management's email sender ID, and the title 'Done'.

Picking up her coffee cup, she took a sip, then put it down again. Then she clicked on the email.

The wording was innocuous and chatty, in the same tone that Management used for all her communications.

Hi, Director Piggot!

Congratulations on the Gesellschaft job. That was really well done (and I'm talking from the point of view of someone whose power is to know when a job has been done well).

Anyway, just thought I'd let you know that Damsel of Distress should be back in Stafford by now.

You were busy with the Empire/Gesellschaft stuff (which we couldn't have pulled off in a million years, but you guys have ALL the resources for) so we figured we'd handle DoD ourselves.

Fighting her is a really bad idea. We had to basically hold Aeglea down and explain that to her, but she figured it out in the end. So instead, we made it so Damsel chose of her own free will to leave Brockton Bay forever. As far as we can tell, she's never coming back, and thus the conflict she represents is also staying away.

How did we do this, you may ask?

Basically, we gaslit the heck out of her. The best way to get someone to want to do something is convince them it's their own idea. We have a pure chaos goblin in our ranks, and we have people who can arrange very convincing 'accidents'. With one doing the planning and the other the execution, it only took three mishaps for her to shake the dust of our fine city off her feet forever.

In case you were wondering (I know you weren't, but I'm gonna tell you anyway) the first mishap involved a toilet emulating Old Faithful. And that was just the beginning.

Anyway, I just thought you'd like to know there's one villain who is NEVER coming back.

In other news, you might want to tell everyone to brace themselves. There's a strong chance Butcher and the Teeth will be coming to town, and, I quote, 'weird shit is going to go down'. No, I don't know what that means yet either.

Watch this space (and once again, good job).

Management

Click to shrink...

Emily closed the email and leaned back in her chair. She knew who Damsel of Distress was, of course. Any Blaster with that level of power was on the list of capes every Director kept an eye on the location of. The fact she'd come to Brockton Bay, been confronted (however subtly) by Shadow Team, then left again without ever coming to the notice of the PRT was just another one of those things that was going to keep Emily awake at night.

'A toilet emulating Old Faithful' … She supposed if anything would convince a villain to stay away from the city, that would be right up there. Mentally, she winced at the unintended pun. Such an experience would get anyone's attention, happening as it did when they were at their most vulnerable.

It was just another line item in the mental ledger titled 'Reasons not to get Shadow Team upset at me'. If they could pull such a 'prank' on Damsel of Distress, there was no reason to think it couldn't happen to her, or anyone else in the PRT building. After all, it had already happened, on a much larger scale, to Coil. This was just a more personal (and thus, uniquely more distressing) application.

She was just about to move on to the next email when she blinked and opened it again. Such was the draw of Management's announcement about Damsel of Distress that she'd barely noticed the mention of Butcher and the Teeth. Mother of God. They're coming here?

With a reputation only slightly less horrific than that of the Slaughterhouse Nine, and only then because the Nine had been in operation longer, Butcher and the Teeth spread chaos wherever they went as a natural state of being. They had a different brand of terror from the Nine as well, though both were known to be teams with a single constant leader and a revolving-door roster of subordinate members. Heroes had been trying to capture (or usually kill) Jack Slash for literally decades, but he was good enough to never be there when the kill-shot landed.

Butcher, on the other hand, had been killed thirteen times; but when the killer was known to become the new Butcher, it dimmed the enthusiasm (for heroes, anyway). Villains kept trying, and some even succeeded from time to time, with predictable results. In addition, Butcher's cabal of capes also had a following of like-minded idiots that herded after them or camped out, waiting for them to return. Emily didn't even know what to think about them, save that she didn't want them anywhere near her city.

The cherry on top of all this was that Management knew 'weird shit' was in the offing when Butcher came to town, but not what said weird shit was likely to entail. Knowing Brockton Bay, and knowing Butcher, the possibilities were simultaneously endless, terrifying and mind-boggling.

On rechecking the email, she noted the wording said 'strong possibility', not that Butcher was already in town or even close by. Well, alright then.

Opening a new page, she began typing out an email cc'd to all watch commanders. Effective immediately, all troopers not tied up in essential duties were to take two days' worth of paid leave; once they were back, they would replace those who had yet to take their leave. Following that, until the Butcher issue was dealt with, all leave would be suspended.

There was no point in telling her people to keep a weather eye out for 'weird shit'. This was Brockton Bay. Weird shit happened almost on a daily basis, to the point that barely anyone noticed it anymore.

After that, she clicked onto the next email. This one only made her swear a little bit.

<><>​

Not a Huge Distance from Brockton Bay

Butcher

"Hey, didn't the Teeth originally come from around Brockton Bay?"

The cape once known as Quarrel turned to look at Spree as the van rolled down the road. "Yeah. Never been there myself, but some of the earlier Butchers have. Why?"

He held up his phone to show her. "Place is wide open now. Lung's in the Birdcage, Kaiser's in the morgue, and the rest of the ABB and Empire capes are all under lock and key. Some asshole named Coil also got taken down too. All the big names are off the board, waiting for someone to just walk in and take over."

"Really." She raised her eyebrows. Just as she'd never been to the city in person, she'd also never clashed with either the Empire or the ABB. The former, she'd heard, had no shortage of big hitters, while Lung was a serious contender all by himself. That had changed almost overnight, which led to one profound thought. "That's very goddamn interesting."

On the one hand, being the only real gang in town would mean the entire attention of the PRT and Protectorate, plus any other local teams, would be focused on them. On the other, she'd never been a shrinking violet, either as Quarrel or as Butcher. Just by herself, she could take on an entire team and win, and had done just that more than once. So really, it was upsides, all the way around.

From the back of the van, Animos spoke up. "Does that mean we're going to Brockton Bay?"

She smiled. "We're going to Brockton Bay."

<><>​

Palanquin Nightclub, Manager's Office

Gregor the Snail

"We may have a problem." Faultline leaned back in her chair as she said this. It wasn't a case of her not caring about the situation; it was more a fact of her being able to relax so she could face it more squarely. "I received an email this morning, from someone calling themselves 'Management'. They claim that the remainder of the Empire Eighty-Eight has been shut down altogether in Brockton Bay, with their active cape members captured and shipped out of town."

"Son of a cracker." That was Newter, perched on the wall. His tail tip twitched as he spoke, betraying his ebullient mood. "That's three for three. Couldn't happen to a nicer bunch of assholes." He tilted his head. "Yet to hear the problem, boss-lady."

Gregor was inclined to be more cautious. "Who is this Management, and did they say why they contacted you at all about this?"

Faultline nodded to acknowledge the question. "They didn't explain who they were, but I've heard whispers that there's a new hero team in town, Thinker-heavy, that operates from the shadows. My guess is that Management is either the team leader or their strategist. As for why they contacted us, here's the problem. They also claim that Butcher and the Teeth are likely to be coming to Brockton Bay in the near future, and that we'd be better off throwing in our lot with the PRT and Protectorate than claiming neutrality. Because Butcher's unlikely to respect it if we do."

"Wait." Spitfire shook her head. "Who the hell is this person, anyway? Where do they get off, telling us to take a side?"

Faultline raised her eyebrows. "Reading between the lines, they're the ones who engineered the takedowns of Coil, Lung and the Merchants. They probably didn't cause Kaiser to be struck by lightning, but they definitely made life difficult for the rest of the Empire until the PRT were able to sweep them up."

"In other words," Newter added helpfully, "they're the type of person with the throw weight to have us either arrested or pushed out of Brockton Bay if we decide not to play ball. Either way, they make a really good point. Butcher and the Teeth are assholes to everyone, so if we want them gone and business back to normal, we're gonna have to step up and pretend to be heroes for once."

"I concur." Faultline leaned forward. "However, before we unilaterally decide to follow that path, does anyone have a better idea?"

"This is perhaps not a better idea, but it is a thought that I have," began Gregor. "What assurance do we have that as soon as Butcher and the Teeth are gone, this new team will not simply turn on us? Up until now, we have not been the largest target, but with Butcher gone, we will be. Siding with the heroes will be good while it lasts, but will it gain us any credit with them once the danger is over?"

Faultline raised a finger as if to voice a counter-proposal, then paused. "You make an exceedingly good point," she admitted. "New Wave, the Protectorate and the PRT have all been content to allow us to operate from behind the fig leaf of Palanquin, but this new team might not. I'll contact them and ask that question. Enlightened self-interest only goes so far when alliances of convenience cease to be convenient."

"And if they say no?" asked Spitfire. "Because it sounds to me like they're holding all the cards, here."

"Then we'll know where they stand." Faultline refused to be stampeded into a position. "And we can make our plans based on that." Her tone suggested that she would be roughing out options beforehand, to be firmed up once more information had come in. It was how she had always operated.

The meeting broke up, but Gregor stayed behind. Faultline looked up at him expectantly. "Yes?"

He waited until the door had closed behind Spitfire, then voiced what was on his mind. "I know what you said to Spitfire, but I must know. If they announce that they intend to come after us next, once Butcher and the Teeth are gone … then what? Do we fight them, surrender, or leave the city?"

She met his gaze squarely. "That will be up to each of us. I won't push my decision on the rest of you. But I personally will not be surrendering, to the PRT or anyone else."

<><>​

Midday Saturday, March 19
Andrew Hawke Memorial Penitentiary

Uber

Brendan strolled along the perimeter of the exercise yard. He was unmasked, wearing prison orange, though his coveralls had 'UBER' printed boldly across the back. Every other prisoner in the yard was similarly garbed, with their cape name on the back so that the guards would know what to expect from them.

Those incarcerated in Andrew Hawke Memorial were all low-risk prisoners; B- and C-class capes, none with a body count. Low to mid security prisons like this were why most villains made damn sure to keep their crimes low-impact; while they weren't quite the 'revolving doors' that popular culture made them out to be, it was a fact that escape from them was a whole sight easier than from the ones holding high-risk prisoners. There was a lot more motivation for a guard to be alert to the possibility of escape when any given escapee had the ability (and the desire) to turn someone's head inside out on a whim, or something equally gruesome.

The one Brendan was zeroing in on was typical of the population of low-risk prisons; known as Boost, he could ignite his feet and jump dozens of feet across the yard at a time, while trailing a thick oily smoke. Subsequent jumps would allow him to leap farther and higher, until he could actually maintain level flight. There was no option for turning, though, which had been his downfall (literally) when he ran into a flying hero with a net. In Andrew Hawke, they had fitted him with ankle-weights calculated to allow him to walk but not build up enough speed to leap over the wall.

Brendan strolled up and took a seat beside him. "Boost."

"Uber." Boost was leaning back in the sunlight with a book in his hands. "Help you with something?"

"Pack of chewing gum." Brendan was better at the prison-yard whisper than most. When he was putting his particular talent to work, anyone reading his lips would be convinced that he'd just said, 'girlie magazine'.

Boost didn't even bother looking at him. A sale was a sale. "Your dessert, and Leet's, tonight."

"Done." Brendan usually gave his dessert to Leet anyway. He stayed and chatted to Boost for a few more minutes, then got up and moved along to wait his turn with the weight sets. Even in prison, it was a good idea to keep fit.

<><>​

Saturday Night
Hebert Household Basement

Panacea

"So, what do you think?" Taylor flicked the switches on the standing lamps so they threw bright illumination over the table in the middle of the floor. "The chairs are a bit mismatched, but you get what you can at a thrift store."

"Wow." Kay took a few steps away from the bottom of the stairs. "It's got built-in dungeon ambiance. I love it."

"You're not wrong." Cam strolled over to where the lamps lit up the table. "We'll be able to read our character sheets easily. And the chairs are great." He slapped the backrest of the tallest one, that Taylor had put up at one end. "GM's chair, naturally?"

"Well, duh." Kay strolled over to the wall, where the camp bed was folded up out of the way. "What's this for, when things get too boring?"

Theo, halfway down the stairs, cleared his throat half-heartedly. "That's, uh, mine."

Taylor nodded. "Ms Russel and Theo are staying here while her place gets repaired, so Theo's still going to be taking care of Aster during the game. We might even bring her downstairs so he doesn't have to keep leaving the table." She paused then; Amy got the impression that she was waiting to see if they'd make any comments.

Cam and Kay shared a quick glance, then Cam nodded. "That's fine. She's a cute little tyke." He looked up toward Theo. "And you're solid, dude. Way to support your stepmom."

"Totally." Kay smiled at Taylor. "And I really think it's great, the way you and your dad are stepping up to help them out. We'd have to be real jerks to screw you around while you're doing this. So, I'll be digging into my allowance and bringing extra snacks to share around, to help you guys out."

"Actually, that's not a bad idea," Annette agreed. "Imma do the same."

"Me too," added Amy. She squeezed Annette's hand, and got a squeeze back in return.

"Yeah, sure." Cam lifted his chin. "That's a great idea." He paused, then cleared his throat. "Panacea … this might sound really crass … but do you do autographs?"

"Um." The question caught Amy on the back foot, on two different levels. When people asked that question of the Dallon sisters, it was usually Vicky whom it was asked of. With Amy, it was usually, 'So, I have a friend who needs healing …' "I, uh …"

Kay elbowed Cam in the ribs, not gently. "Hey. Not cool. She'll be playing the game as Amy, not Panacea. Unless she shows up in costume, of course."

"Haha, nope." Amy had been feeling much more comfortable in her own skin since she'd started the relationship with Annette, but she still drew a sharp line between her cape life and her personal life. A lot sharper than Vicky did, to be honest. Vicky loved being recognised. "I only usually do autographs at public meet and greets, but that's mainly because people don't tend to recognise me out of costume."

"Huh," mused Taylor. "Have you ever been out of costume in public and someone committed a crime right in front of you, and they didn't realise who you were until it was too late?"

Amy did her best to raise an eyebrow. "That's very specific, but no. I haven't. Yet, anyway."

"Wonder what they'd do." Cam rubbed his chin. "I'm guessing … let you go, with apologies."

"Pfft, nah." Kay grinned. "I vote for 'surrender on the spot'."

Taylor shook her head, looking amused. "Have you seen the villains around here? They'd be more likely to double down and take her hostage or something stupid like that."

"Thus proving," Annette announced with her finger in the air, "that villainy might not be married to idiocy as a matter of course, but they definitely date from time to time."

Theo snorted with amusement. "And if they pull this crap after Amy's been learning how to be a chaos goblin from Annette, they've only got themselves to blame for whatever happens next."

"Hey," Annette mock-protested as everyone else burst out laughing, "I resemble that remark!"

Amy pulled her close and kissed her on the cheek. "We know, we know." Then she turned to Cam. "I'm not saying no, but I'm a little curious as to why you want my autograph." Instead of Vicky's, she carefully didn't say.

"Because you're way cool?" Cam shrugged. "My aunt was caught in a gang fight last year, and ended up with bullet wounds and third-degree burns. You healed her in like thirty seconds. It would've bankrupted her if she'd had to go to the hospital. So yeah, our family owes you a lot."

"Uh … sure?" Amy spread her hands. "What would you like me to sign? One of your character sheets? I can do that, I guess."

"Sweet!" Cam reached down to his backpack and dug hastily into it. "I've got my notepad here somewhere …"

"Ah, yes," Annette pronounced wisely. "The Notepad." She leaned in as though imparting secret information, but neglected to lower her tone. "He uses it for important stuff. Probably get you to sign a page out of that. Which he'll most likely have laminated. Or framed. Or laminated and framed. Cam's finicky like that."

Amy blinked. "What, really?"

Kay sighed in a long-suffering way. "Yes. Really."

Amy thought about that, and shrugged. If Cam was willing to laminate her autograph …

… well, it would mean someone thought enough of her to think it was worth preserving. Which was pretty cool, to be honest. "Anyway, I came over to game, not talk about autographs. You guys said you could help me and Theo make up characters?"

"Totally." Kay grinned. "I just love the fact that you've got zero intention of playing a healer. Which is actually a good thing, to be honest."

"Yeah, no kidding." Amy hadn't actually considered what she wanted to play. Just that she didn't want to be the one running around after everyone else, patching up their wounds. Too much like real life. Also, she was damn sure no game would let her heal people as easily as she did for real.

"Uh, I've been looking through the books that you guys left here," Theo ventured. "I think I've got my character mostly figured out. I'll just need someone to look it over and make sure I haven't done something really stupid."

Annette perked up. "Oh, I can totally do that. But first, we need to sort Amy out. You said you didn't want to play a healer? What do you want to play?" As she spoke, she pulled a couple of chairs out from the table and sat down at one of them.

"Um." Amy thought about that. "Can I play someone big, who hits really hard?" Vicky seemed to enjoy punching her problems until they went away. It was an approach that seemed worth trying.

"Oh, hell yes." Annette nodded enthusiastically. Reaching over to where the rulebooks had been left on the table, she grabbed one. She barely even had to look at the page numbers before opening it to a specific section. "Barbarians. They can be big, they get angry, and they hit things really, really hard."

Amy nodded, sat down, and began to read. A lot of the terms were still opaque to her, but she'd been coached in enough of them by Annette that she understood most of what she was seeing. And what she was seeing was very much what she had in mind. "Oooh."

"Mmm-hmm." Annette grinned. "Hey, Cam, if we're bringing in new characters, can I change mine out? Amy and me can be battle sisters. I'm thinking maybe a goblin rogue with dirty fighting skills. You hit 'em high, I'll hit 'em low."

That sounded exactly right to Amy. "Let's do this thing."

Cam settled down into the GM's chair, testing it out for comfort. "Sure, go right ahead."

"Really." Taylor had taken another chair; now she gave Annette a cynical look. "So, what was that about not being what you do in real life? Chaos goblin much?"

Annette stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry. "Everything I play is a chaos goblin. This one's just gonna be obvious about it."

Taylor considered this, rolled a die meditatively from one hand to the other, then nodded. "Yeah, I can't argue with that."

<><>​

Later Again That Night
Andrew Hawke Memorial Penitentiary

Leet

"Lights out!" Thirty seconds after the call, the lights in the cell cut out, leaving just the faint illumination from the heavily barred window. Rodney lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling. He didn't move or speak; just because it was a low-security prison didn't mean there was no security. The guards still got huffy over escape attempts.

There was a tap against the metal upright, then another one. Finally. Rodney rolled over, and let his arm slide down through the gap between the bunk and the wall. A moment later, the pack of gum was pressed into his hand.

Curling his fingers around it, he pulled his hand back up. Carefully, he opened it, and separated the strip of spearmint gum from its wrapper. The gum went into his mouth, and he began to chew. In the meantime, his fingers were busy with the wrapper.

He'd needed the gum, but there was something much more important in the smuggled delicacy: the aluminum foil that came with it. Without it, he couldn't complete the circuitry of his latest device. And without the device, he and Uber wouldn't be able to escape.

Prisons across the board did their best to limit the access that Tinker inmates had to potential construction materials. Many of them, Rodney included, could do quite a lot with very little indeed.

Continuing to chew—the device he was building would need a specific type of adhesive at a later point in its construction—he reached under his pillow and retrieved the cable attached to the bedframe. Other components, all stashed inside his pillow, making it considerably less comfortable than it looked, also came out. He arranged them on the mattress by touch, closed his eyes, and set to work.

<><>​

Hi, Faultline!

Thanks for reaching out. I can totally see why you might be dubious about us turning around and smacking you down as soon as Butcher's been dealt with. And to be honest, if you were more active inside Brockton Bay, we'd strongly consider it.

But as it happens, you aren't. Also, I'm told you're very good at strategic thinking, so taking you and your team down, especially on your home turf, would be more like a game of three-dimensional chess than a straight-up fight. I'd probably win (my team's got three Thinkers on it) but it wouldn't be easy and it wouldn't be fun.

So, here's my proposition.

Help us out against Butcher and the Teeth (be warned, I'm told weird shit is going to go down, though details are currently sketchy) and we'll ignore your presence so long as you and your Crew don't blatantly commit any crimes right in front of us.

Note that I do not speak for the Protectorate or the PRT. What they do is their business. But we won't give them any assistance toward taking you down, either.

Why, you ask? It's simple. We're trying to reduce the overall level of conflict in the city. The Merchants, Coil, the ABB and the Empire were conflict-heavy. Even Uber and Leet caused their own share of it (sometimes more than their share). Increase the amount of conflict, and we'll come after you. Don't contribute, or reduce it, and we're good.

As for why we're trying to reduce conflict …

… I might tell you later.

But for now, we're good.

Management

Click to shrink...

<><>​

Palanquin

Faultline

Melanie Fitts leaned back in her chair and read the email again. There didn't seem to be any coded messages or twisted meanings in it, though she was almost certain that Tattletale was probably one of the other two Thinkers on Management's team. Who the third one was—or even who Management was—she had no idea.

Only one Thinker of note (Tattletale, of course) had dropped out of sight in recent weeks inside Brockton Bay. Victor, as a member of the Empire, wasn't on this list; neither was Uber. Which meant that two separate Thinkers had shown up in relatively short order, formed a team, and roped Tattletale into their little clique.

Thinker-heavy teams weren't known to be overly successful, given that they also tended to be ego-heavy. Having experienced first-hand Tattletale's driving need to be known as the smartest person in the room, Melanie had to wonder exactly what miracles of diplomacy this 'Management' was using to keep the team from reaching a critical mass of arrogance and exploding messily. Considering that the team also apparently featured some physical heavy hitters (including, it was rumoured, a hydrokinetic and a rebranded Purity) the name was clearly more than a passing affectation.

Someone on that team could manage people.

But that wasn't the important part. That was just her assessment of the opposition before she got down to brass tacks. The important part was the message contained within the message.

Not a code, or any of the variations. Nothing was enciphered within the text, because she was damn sure nobody in her Crew was a plant. But there was still a message there. More than one, in fact.

The first message was simple: We could take you down, but so long as you behave yourselves, we won't.

But the second one was giving her problems. Conflict is bad for Brockton Bay, because …

And that was where she was hitting the brick wall. Because what?

It wasn't something small. She knew that for a fact. Nobody gathered enough obscure big hitters together to drive virtually all the cape crime out of a city, yet left her own Crew in place, on a whim. They knew Butcher was on the way, and they were prepping and planning to do something about it, even looping Melanie in on it … why?

Nobody sane went up against Butcher and the Teeth. It was a losing proposition. Butcher never, ever backed down. They were infamous for it. If you went head-to-head with them, either you died, or they died … and you then became the next Butcher. There was no compromise, no middle ground. A genuine lose-lose situation.

Yet this Management and their mysterious team seemed to believe they could do something about Butcher after all. Or maybe they just thought they had to.

Because Butcher spread conflict wherever they went. And ending conflict was the name of the game.

But why?

What are they trying to achieve?

Most capes, in her experience, thrived on conflict. They lived for it.

Why was this secretive team going against the grain, on so many levels?

The question, she knew instinctively, held the seed of the answer within it.

But she was damned if she could figure out what that was.

<><>​

Sunday Evening
Hebert Household Basement

Taylor

A bunch of us sat around the table again. At first glance, a casual observer may have been excused for thinking it was the same group as on Saturday night, given that most of us were still present. But Cam and Kay weren't here, and the table was devoid of rulebooks and character sheets. The only dice sat in front of me.

Dinah was in Cam's GM chair and Vicky took Kay's seat. Chairs had been brought down from upstairs for Dad, Andrea, Janet, and Kayden. We needed an extra chair for Lisa, so Annette sat on Amy's lap. That came as a surprise to nobody.

"Butcher hit the city limits about an hour ago." I reported. "The dice say she and the Teeth won't be immediately starting problems. Right now, they're looking for someplace with electricity and running water where they can hole up and start making raids to resupply. Food, booze, stuff like that."

Lisa nodded. "But then weird shit happens."

"As you say, weird shit happens." I set my d20 spinning. "At some point in the next couple of hours, something happens that even my letter dice have trouble describing, and Butcher dies."

Everyone knew what that meant. Whatever the event, if I would never learn the details, I couldn't foresee them. But on the other hand, if I made a decision based on that understanding, I might yet shift the building blocks of the future aside long enough to get a glimpse of that event.

"Do you have any idea who does this thing? Who kills Butcher and inherits the power?" It was Kayden asked the question. I wasn't surprised; she was one of our most powerful, and thus the most likely to accidentally kill the Butcher. Which she would have to be terrified of doing, because that would endanger Aster.

"That's the weird part. My dice had no problem telling me who." I picked up the four letter-dice and rolled them across the table. They ended up spread apart, but with four letters showing: L E E T.

"That can't be right." Vicky picked up one of the dice, as though checking for duplicate letters. Putting it back down, she rolled it back toward me. "He's in prison. I should know; Browbeat and I captured him and Uber ourselves."

"And yet, the dice do not lie." I stopped the letter die with my hand. "Leet is going to kill Butcher in a way that I'm never going to learn about, despite the fact that he's currently hundreds of miles away from Brockton Bay."

"Theo?" Annette addressed her half-brother. "You're the one who grew up with capes. Regale us with your insights."

"I'm as confused as the rest of you," Theo confessed. "There's only two ways this can happen, and neither one's really likely."

Vicky blinked. "Well, that's two more ways than I can think of. Keep talking."

Theo held up one finger. "One: Leet escapes, makes his way back to Brockton Bay. Butcher attacks him, and Leet somehow wins."

Silence fell, broken only by Aster's sleepy burbling in her crib behind Theo. I considered the possibility of the events he'd described, then shook my head. "You might as well tell us what's behind door number two, because door number one's a dead loss."

"I agree." Kayden snorted. "Leet's more likely to kill himself than someone else."

"I did say they were unlikely," Theo reminded us. "The other one is that Leet left some of his tech behind, and Butcher triggers it and dies that way."

Dad frowned. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't either of those events require Butcher to be in Uber and Leet's old base at the time?"

I snapped my fingers and pointed at him. "And that's something I can check. Thanks, Dad." Scooping up the letter dice, I rolled them. "Does Butcher die in Leet's base?"

Y E S

A new level of well, shit was now hanging over the room. "It … kind of makes sense," Amy ventured. "It's a villain base, ready for someone to walk in. Power and water would still be on. As soon as the Teeth discovered it, they'd grab it in a heartbeat."

I took a deep breath. "Does Leet escape from prison?" The dice rolled from my hand.

Y E S

"Shit." I wasn't sure who said it; it might have been me, or someone else.

"Dinah?" That was Dad. "Who can stop this?"

"Director Piggot," she replied. Her phone was in her hand, and she was typing an email. "Telling her that Butcher's in town now, and Leet's either escaped from prison or he's about to. If we can prevent the escape, we've only got this Butcher to deal with."

I could only nod. Leet was bad enough with the powers he already had. Giving him more could be downright catastrophic for the city.

"What about the rest of the Teeth?" asked Annette.

Dinah never paused in her typing. "Far less of a problem. I'll give you guys the playbooks for taking them out as needed." She tapped one final icon. "And … sent."

"Were we in time?" asked Amy. "Lisa?"

"Hon, I'm literally in a basement." Lisa pointed at me. "Ask the dice wizard there."

I wrinkled my nose at her, but rolled the dice anyway. They clattered across the table, then stopped.

T I M E

"Really?" Vicky peered at them. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That I need to roll number dice, duh." I picked up four ten-siders and rolled them. They came up with a zero, a four, a three and a six. "Okay, so we'll know in four minutes thirty-six seconds if we succeeded or not."

"Why? Why can't we know now?" Vicky pointed at my dice. "Aren't they supposed to know all?"

"It's a probabilistic-indeterminate situation," Lisa said, coming to my rescue. "There's something happening that has a whole bunch of equal-probability outcomes, so until one of those outcomes happens, nobody can read that future."

Vicky rolled her eyes. "Well, that's bullshit."

<><>​

Somewhere Else on Earth Bet

Contessa winced and rubbed at her right eyebrow. One of her Paths in Brockton Bay had just gone awry, giving her a brief migraine. The Path would be clear again, in … four minutes and fifteen seconds.

Fortunately, there wasn't a lot that could go wrong in less than five minutes.

<><>​

Andrew Hawke Memorial Penitentiary

Leet

Rodney was piecing the last bits of the mechanism together when Uber sat up in bed, the springs creaking. "Hear that?" he hissed.

Pausing, Rodney listened. "I hear yelling, and someone running."

"They're yelling your name, and they're running in this direction." Uber's face came into view, dimly outlined in the light coming in through the window. "Whatever you're doing, get it finished. We've been ratted out."

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit." Rodney had intended to install a fine-tuned directional module, but now he was going to have to put in the coordinates himself and blind-jump it. And he hadn't even attached the wave guides to the bedframe yet. "Dude! Get water out of the toilet! Splash it all over the sheets! They need to be conductive!"

"What? Why?"

"Because if you don't, this thing'll go, and we won't!" Uber could ask questions at the stupidest fucking times.

He frantically applied himself to assembling the module as fast as his shaking fingers would allow him to. It all seemed to be clicking together correctly, though he couldn't be sure.

Water splashed over the bed as Uber followed his directive. Some hit him, but he couldn't give a damn.

Then the lights came on. "Leet!" bellowed a voice, not too far away. "Front and centre!"

To his horror, one of the secondary modules was out of place, twisted ninety degrees. He pulled it out, turned it, and re-seated it properly. A cable with an alligator-clip hung out of the device; he attached it to the soaked sheets.

"Leet!" The guards were at the door now. "Off the bed! Step away from the Tinkertech!" With a rattle and a clang, the door slid open.

Uber jumped onto the lower bunk. Rodney grabbed two hanging cords … and touched them together. Sparks flew. Purple lightning crackled over the wet sheets and arced across the room. Physics was massively violated and ended up needing therapy.

It shouldn't have worked. There were too many loose connectors. But just enough water droplets had landed in just the right places to make it happen anyway.

Sometimes, shit goes sideways because the universe wants it to.

<><>​

Thirty Seconds Before
Uber and Leet's Old Base

Animos

Butcher strode through the empty building like a queen surveying her new domain. "It's perfect," she declared. "Start moving everything inside. We'll be using this as—"

She broke off, clutching her head, as purple lightning arced from a light fitting and grounded in her left bicep. Another crackling tendril struck her in the right leg. Everyone backed away from her as her eyes opened wide.

"Boss?" shouted Spree in alarm.

Butcher's mouth opened, showing more purple lightning inside. "Fuuu—"

She crouched slightly, a sign she was about to teleport, then a fucking bunk bed of all things materialised in a tremendous burst of the lightning; one end of the bed intersected Butcher's body. Two different pieces of matter occupying the same space would've been bad enough, but one was teleporting in while the other was teleporting out, which really screwed the interdimensional pooch.

<><>​

The resultant explosion tore Butcher apart on the subatomic level, obliterated the bunk bed, and destroyed the base. Only one of the witnesses to the event survived, due to suddenly inheriting the ability to teleport the fuck away from what had turned out to be a small nuclear explosion.

<><>​

About Three Seconds Later
Hebert Household Basement

Taylor

"Three … two … one." Theo stopped counting, just as a pronounced shudder rippled through the house. My dice clattered across the table, some falling on the floor. Aster awoke and started crying. Kayden was out of her chair and kneeling beside the crib before the rolling BOOOOOM echoed down from above.

The standing lamps were still swaying from side to side, and the light cord was swinging wildly. "What the hell was that?" asked Janet, her eyes wide.

"Butcher." Lisa's tone was bleak. "She just died. Leet just killed her … somehow. Sounds like some of his tech went badly wrong."

"What the hell was he building?" Amy was pale, clinging to Annette, her freckles standing out in stark relief. "A nuke?"

"That, or a microwave oven to fry the Simurgh in," Annette quipped, but the joke fell flat. "It did sound pretty damn loud, though."

Lisa nodded. "It would've been nuke-adjacent, yes. A few miles away, which is good. I wouldn't be surprised if there's a crater and a lot of devastation in that direction now."

I cleared my throat. "We're not going to have to tell Director Piggot about that one, I'm pretty sure."

"No." Kayden shook her head. "We are not."

<><>​

In a Parking Lot, Half a Mile from the Crater

The Villain Once Known as Leet

"Ugggh …" Rodney picked himself up off the asphalt and looked around. Alarms were blaring as far as he could see and hear. There were no sirens yet, but that would come soon. "Fuck, I have to get back and see if Uber's okay."

Don't bother. The voice spoke from inside his head. Everyone who was in that building is toast. It was feminine but harsh. Nicely done, asshole.

"What the hell?" Rodney looked around wildly. "Who said that?"

Me, stupid. Butcher Fourteen. You killed me. I'm inside your head.

As are we, another voice said, then another and another.

The chorus mounted as flames and smoke rose from not all that far away, and Rodney realised one very important fact.

He had really, really fucked up this time.



End of Part Twenty-Five