I, Panacea (Worm SI Fanfic)

[edale]

You proclaim my statement is fanon.

Then you immediately go on to make my point for me.

Great job. Thank you for halping.

Click to shrink...

You proclaimed

she frankly has no idea what the hell she wants.

Click to shrink...

That is very obviously fanon, as she knows exactly what she wants. Vicky's aura being involved in the developmental stages doesn't matter for her current mindset, especially as she doesn't need to be under the effects of Vicky's aura to feel that way (anymore).

At NO point in canon did Amy's feelings of love/lust for Vicky disappear, even when separated from Vicky for a period of time. Fics that suggest this are common though, so like I said, fanon.

The ONLY canon-following fics that can really explore Panacea's natural sexuality are ones where the break from canon/butterflies results in Amy in another household, or Vicky with a different power.

 

[Darkarma]

People arguing on the internet, wow.

This chapter was awesome and oh hey its back! More coming up or back to Price of Blood?

 

[edale]

People arguing on the internet, wow.

Click to shrink...

Spoiler

 

[Darkarma]

Spoiler

Click to shrink...

Thou hast made my point that I had in mine head when I posteth.
In all seriousness this is the kind of Amy I kind of wish we saw in Canon instead of her spiraling into a Shakespearean tragedy. Granted she had a golden light and the end of the tunnel which never likely helped her overcome what she did to Vicky, not entirely or probably close. Healthy Amy is nice Amy.

 

[Psyckosama]

You proclaimed
That is very obviously fanon, as she knows exactly what she wants. Vicky's aura being involved in the developmental stages doesn't matter for her current mindset, especially as she doesn't need to be under the effects of Vicky's aura to feel that way (anymore).

At NO point in canon did Amy's feelings of love/lust for Vicky disappear, even when separated from Vicky for a period of time. Fics that suggest this are common though, so like I said, fanon.

The ONLY canon-following fics that can really explore Panacea's natural sexuality are ones where the break from canon/butterflies results in Amy in another household, or Vicky with a different power.

Click to shrink...

Again, you keep reinforcing my point!

She never shows any interest towards me. Or women for that fact. Except for Vicky. Because she's been left strictly Vicky-sexual.

 

[Muroshi9]

Again, you keep reinforcing my point!

She never shows any interest towards me. Or women for that fact. Except for Vicky. Because she's been left strictly Vicky-sexual.

Click to shrink...

Well you haven't written a SI so she can show interest in You.

 

[Ack]

Well you haven't written a SI so she can show interest in You.

Click to shrink...

Can we take the Vicky/Amy who's-attracted-to-whom elsewhere, please?

 

[Psyckosama]

Well you haven't written a SI so she can show interest in You.

Click to shrink...

MEN

... what I get for replying at god knows what time in the morning.

Can we take the Vicky/Amy who's-attracted-to-whom elsewhere, please?

Click to shrink...

Sure thing. Prrsonally I think it's pretty pointless myself.

 

[Ack]

I, Panacea


Part Eighteen: Whatever Happened to Alexandria?


Friday Morning

April 15, 2011

"What do you mean, Bakuda's been seen?" Brian stuck his head out of the kitchen nook. "Alexandria herself said she was going to take care of that shit!" He searched Alec's face for signs of amusement, and found none.

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger," the younger boy said, sounding defensive. "I was just trolling – uh, browsing, the PHO boards and I saw a mention of her. Thought you should know."

"Alec, what the fuck have I told you about using my laptop without permission?" demanded Lisa, storming along the passageway from her room. "If you've messed up my settings …"

"Hey, chill, chill." Regent hastily put the laptop on the couch beside him. "You left it open, so I thought I'd check the boards."

"Using my damn username," snapped Lisa. "I swear, if you've gotten me banned, you're never going to sleep again."

Alec rolled his eyes. "Oh, do tell."

Lisa stomped over to the couch and snatched up the laptop. "Cut your shit. And what about Bakuda?"

Alec put on an annoying whining tone that made Brian want to punch him. It was probably deliberate, too. "Briiian, she's making promises she's not keeping. Make her stop."

Brian had had enough. He stepped out of the kitchen and advanced on Alec. "I'll make you stop. What was that about Bakuda?"

If he hadn't heard Alec's aggravated sigh a dozen times before, he would have sworn it was genuine. "Okay, fine. Bagrat says she's been seen out and about. He might be pretentious as fuck, but that guy generally knows what he's talking about."

Lisa scanned the screen. Brian watched the lines between her eyes deepen. "Oh shit. This is fucking bad. Legit. Alexandria was supposed to be taking care of her and Oni Lee."

"What's bad?" asked Regent. "That Bakuda took down Alexandria or that she'll be probably coming after us next, like that creepy guy in Panacea's head said?"

"Yes," said Brian flatly. "They're both really, really bad." A thought struck him. "And she was supposed to be going after Oni Lee, too. If she went after Bakuda first …"

Lisa grimaced. "They're both still around. Great."

Brian took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. "Uh, right. Okay. What do we do about this?"

"Do about what?" asked Rachel, entering the common area; three dogs followed along behind her. "What the fuck's going on?"

"Alexandria didn't get Bakuda," Brian informed her. "She'll still be coming after us. And if she is, then so's Oni Lee." How the fuck did she stop Alexandria? Did she kill her?

"Okay." Rachel went into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Wait, wait," demanded Alec. "'Okay'? Is that it? Is that all you've got to say?"

"Okay, we take her down ourselves." Rachel's tone was matter of fact. "She's a threat." She took a drink of the coffee. "If something's a threat, you either run away or take it down. I say we take her down."

"How the fuck is that a good plan?" demanded Alec. "A bomb Tinker is after us, so we go after her? Are you fucking dense?"

Rachel took a step toward him, her face darkening with anger. "Don't call me fucking stupid."

"I didn't call you stupid, I called you dense."

The auburn haired girl clenched her fists. "Don't call me dense, either."

"Okay, fine, you're not dense." Alec raised his eyes to the ceiling. "But in what way is that a good plan?" Brian wanted to chime in with agreement, but he didn't want to be agreeing with Alec right then, so he stayed silent.

"Actually, it's doable." Lisa spoke without looking at either of them. "Amy's friend gave us some very valuable intel yesterday. We know that you, Rachel, get captured when you go out for a walk. Bakuda grabs you, forces you to show her where the money is, then sets an ambush for the rest of us. So you go out, we follow along, and when Bakuda goes to capture you, we ambush her."

"Wait, so Rachel gets used as bait in the trap?" Brian didn't like the sound of that. "That's really risky. Rachel, if you're not comfortable with that …"

"Fuck it." Rachel shrugged. "She probably won't ever let up. So we deal with her."

Regent reached forward and turned the game console on. "You're all fucked in the head. If someone's on your ass, the only reasonable course of action is to fuck off and find somewhere else. Ask anyone from Kyushu."

"Not necessarily." By now, Lisa's grin was in what Brian privately referred to as 'run for the hills' mode. Someone's going to suffer, and hopefully it's not me. "I'm going to need a map."

<><>​

Lisa tapped her finger on the map of Brockton Bay which Brian had located and spread over the table. "Here's the best place for Bakuda to be waiting. It's in ABB territory, and it's on a major intersection. So we draw her to a location of our choosing."

"How do you know she'll be waiting?" Alec sounded bored, leaning on the table with his elbows.

"Because she wants to take us down." Lisa's tone was matter of fact. "This is a big thing for her. We did the Ruby Dreams thing, Lung came after us for that, and he got taken down, in part by us. If she doesn't do this, the ABB's rep is tanked."

Brian decided to get back to the current question. "So how do we do this?"

Lisa looked smug. "We use her own assets against her."

"Hey, I'm good," objected Regent, "but even I can't make someone's ti- ow!" He rubbed the back of his head, where Brian had smacked him. "What was that for?"

"Behave," growled Brian. "Lisa, you were saying?"

Lisa ignored the interruption. "She's gonna have spotters out. Probably with radios. We locate a couple of those …"

<><>​

A Little Later

Danielle Liu leaned against the wall of the alley and tried not to scratch at the scar at the base of her neck. It was difficult not to, especially when it itched. She didn't remember much about getting the implant, except for the pain and the screaming. Her own screaming, mainly.

I still can't believe my own brother turned me over to Bakuda, she thought bitterly. Okay, so he had one too, but fuck, he could have lied or something. The betrayal still hurt, almost as much as the knowledge that she now had a bomb in her fucking head. One that Bakuda could set off just by thinking about it. And it might not even kill me quickly. She had seen the look on the face of the one guy as he melted in front of her. It had been neither painless nor quick.

I should be at work right now. Secretary for a legal firm wasn't exactly the dream job she had yearned for all of her life, but she would have given a lot to be there instead of where she was. Lurking in an alley, clutching a two-way radio, hoping that Bakuda wouldn't simply decide to make an example out of her for some bullshit reason, or no reason at all.

A movement caught her eye; she moved to the entrance of the alleyway. There was someone walking down the street, on the far side of the road. She was stocky, auburn, dressed like a man. That fitted the description of Bitch well enough. But even as she lifted the radio to her mouth, she paused. She's not leading any dogs. That's not right. Bitch would have dogs with her. It must be someone who looks the same, but isn't her.

Before she could continue the thought, an unnatural blackness rolled over her. Hands grabbed her from behind, and she was yanked back into the alleyway. She yelped, dropping the radio as she tried to fight off her attacker. Unfortunately, any cries for help she might have made were muffled by the blackness, barely reaching her own ears. Whoever it was, they were both taller and stronger than her. She struggled anyway, wishing just for once that the common stereotype about Asians applied; being a martial-arts expert would have been so handy right then. But before she could even complete that thought, an arm went around her throat and began to squeeze …

<><>​

As Brian lowered the unconscious young woman to the ground, Lisa picked up the radio. She fiddled with it for a moment, then nodded. "Excellent. The fall didn't damage it."

"So what's the callsign?" asked Brian. "If we're gonna be gaslighting them, we need to know what they're using to identify themselves."

"If there's this many of them, Bakuda won't worry about giving them individual codenames," Lisa countered. She turned the radio around to show him the number 73 scratched into the casing. "This is what they'll be using."

"Wow," Alec commented, failing to sound impressed. "That's so original. I think I might faint."

"So can we do this now?" asked Rachel, stomping into the alley. Brutus, Judas and Angelica trotted forward to greet her, wagging their tails happily.

"Not yet," Lisa said. "We need to grab one more for the best effect."

<><>​

Just a Little Later

Joey Chou considered himself smarter than the average gangster. He had found a perch on a rooftop next to a fire escape , giving himself a bird's-eye view of the street below. This way, he'd be far less likely to miss Bitch if she came by. He shuddered to think what Bakuda might do to him if she did pass him by and he missed her. So he dedicated his time to scanning the street, over and over again.

So long as this fucking thing is in my head, I do what Bakuda wants. I really don't care what happens to some white chick. I'm looking after Joey Chou first, last and always.

Leaning forward, he scanned the street again. There were a few pedestrians, but none that fitted the description of Bitch. However, there was someone walking three dogs on leads. From this angle, he couldn't see her face, but he could see that her blonde hair was done up in some sort of braid. Could that be a wig?

For a moment, he considered it, then decided that she simply wasn't stocky enough to be Bitch. Also, her clothes were well-fitting and feminine. From what he understood about Bitch, she either didn't care about that sort of thing or she was a dyke. Not her, then. Relaxing, he began to scan the street again.

Footsteps crunched in the gravel behind him. "Excuse me. Building super. You're not allowed to be up here." It was a deep, commanding voice.

Oh, for fuck's sake. He began to turn, already opening his mouth to explain to this interfering asshole that he was ABB and if the guy didn't want -

The sceptre jabbed him in the middle of the chest, making him convulse from the electrical shock. His muscular control over his own body totally disrupted, he crumpled, his radio beating him to the rooftop by a narrow margin.

<><>​

Brian turned the twitching ABB guy on to his stomach and began to secure his hands behind his back. "Seems to me," he observed, "that you like tasing these guys altogether too much."

"What's not to enjoy?" Regent retorted, twirling the sceptre in his hand. "They put on a show, then they fall down."

"If I had to explain it, you'd never understand." Reaching over, Brian picked up the discarded radio. "Here we go. You're … let's see, now." He turned the radio around. "Number Fifty-One."

Regent struck a pose. "I am not a number!" he proclaimed. "I am a free man!"

Brian shook his head as he got up from beside the supine gangster. "Seriously? That show's older than both of us put together. And I do not believe that you've ever watched it."

"Not deliberately, no." Regent grimaced slightly as he took the radio. "But when my father decided to catch the reruns … well, let's just say that nobody asked him if he could change the channel."

There really wasn't anything that Brian could say to that. I'm sorry your dad's a massive douche who Masters everyone he meets? It seemed a little inadequate.

"Now can we do this?" demanded Rachel, somewhat to Brian's relief.

Brian grinned. "Yes. Now we can do this."

<><>​

Just a Little Later Again

Lisa took a deep breath and pressed the button on the side of the radio. "This is Number Seventy-Three, on the corner of West and Fairfield." As she spoke, she considered the chance that the girl had been someone that Bakuda knew personally. She put a bomb in her head. Pretty sure that means they weren't close.

There was a pause, then a mechanical voice crackled from the speaker. "Bakuda. What've you got, Seventy-Three?"

"I can see her." Lisa grinned at where Rachel was standing by her dogs, then continued. "The dog girl. Bitch. She's walking north along Fairfield with three dogs. She's not looking at me."

They were standing on a rooftop, back from the edge, well away from either West Street or Fairfield Drive. Down below was French Avenue, which was where they needed to be.

"If she knew you were reporting to me, her dogs would be all over you. Bakuda to everyone in that area. Converge, but don't get too close. We don't want to tip her off."

Lisa listened as the acknowledgements trickled in, then nodded to the others. "Hook, line and sinker. Alec, give it about a minute, then make your call."

"Sure thing." Alec fiddled with his radio for a moment, then looked over at her. "Think this'll really work?" She didn't have to use her power to know that he was still dubious.

"If there's one thing I've learned over and over in this business," Lisa said cheerfully, "it's that people see and hear what they expect to be there. Give them something plausible to look at, and they'll never question it."

"How do you know she'll drive up this street?" demanded Rachel. "It's not where you told her I was."

"No, it's not," Lisa agreed. "But from where she'll be starting, coming up this way will be the fastest way to cut you off, from what Alec will be telling her." She pointed at Regent. "Okay, showtime."

Alec nodded, and clicked his radio button. "This is Fifty-One. I've got a view of her. She's turning west on to Colson."

"Follow her, don't lose her, but for fuck's sake don't alert her. Keep an eye on those damn dogs. If they start growing, assume she's seen you."

Lisa released a pent-up breath that she hadn't realised that she was holding. Despite the bomb Tinker's mechanical monotone, she could still ascertain basic facts. One very important one was that Bakuda was still buying their ruse.

Regent was looking at her. She nodded encouragingly. "She's still fat and happy," she said quietly. "As far as she's concerned, Rachel doesn't have a clue."

"Shit, this would really have worked if we hadn't been warned, wouldn't it?" Grue sounded unhappy. "We had no idea how far they were willing to go to get at us."

Lisa grinned at him. "Yeah, but we know where they are and the opposite doesn't apply." She glanced at Regent. "We could lead her in circles all day, or just fade away every time they get close."

Regent shook his head. "Fuck that noise. Let's see this through."

The surprise was evident in Grue's voice. "Really? Not so long ago, you were all about running away."

"That was before I saw how Lisa was jerking her all over the landscape," Alec said. "I wanna see how this turns out."

"Oni Lee's involved," Lisa warned them. "It could still go bad."

Regent shook his head. "I still have no idea why nobody's sniped that bastard from three hundred yards away."

"No kill order, for one thing," Grue pointed out.

"So what?" Regent spread his hands. "Who says it has to be a sanctioned kill? This is Oni Lee. He's already got a body count of his own."

"Yeah, but -" began Grue.

"Fifty-One, do you still have her in sight?"

Regent lifted his radio and replied in a lazy drawl. "Sure, I've got her in sight. Fat and happy and stupid, still walking down Colson."

Lisa face-palmed. He repeated what I said! And that's sure to piss her off. "Jeez, I hope you didn't -"

"Seventy-Three, can you still see Bitch?"

Rapidly, she composed herself. "Yes, I can see Bitch. Still on Colson. Near Kingswood."

"Good. Stay on her. We're just coming up to … French. We'll use that to cut her off."

Lisa keyed her radio, forcing herself to sound calm and collected. "Will do." Just as she was starting to relax again, another voice sounded on the radio.

"Bakuda, this is Sixteen. I'm on Colson, near Kingswood. I can't see anyone at all."

Bakuda spoke next. "Sixteen, rendezvous with Fifty-One or Seventy-Three. They'll be able to point her out."

"That doesn't sound good," Grue said, sounding worried.

"No time," Lisa snapped. "Everyone, mount up, now. We've got about sixty seconds to be in place."

As they scrambled on to their selected mounts, the radio crackled to life again. "Uh … this is Twenty-Five. I'm, uh, on Colson, too. I think I can see Sixteen, but I can't see anyone with dogs."

Lisa was still climbing on to Angelica when Regent clicked his radio on again. "Wow, are you guys blind? Fifty-One, here. Bitch is right there. Three dogs. Are you sure you can't see her?"

He dropped the radio so that he could hang on. Lisa had already clipped hers to her belt. She shouted, "Go, go, go!"

Rachel whistled loudly, and the dogs surged forward. The next few seconds were a terrifying blur; one by one, the dogs leaped to the roof of a one-storey building, and then to the ground. As jarring as it was, they landed on the pavement without serious incident; at a nod from Lisa, Rachel sent the dogs galloping down the street.

A moment later, a jeep came hurtling around the corner, straightened up from a wild fishtail, and roared toward them. Lisa pulled the radio off her belt; lifting it to her mouth, she said smugly, "Seventy-Three here. Surprise."

The driver of the jeep slammed on the brakes; the rugged vehicle screeched to a halt, greyish smoke pouring off of the tyres. In the passenger seat, a costumed figure stood up, raising something that looked like a really big gun in their direction.

As the dogs pounded closer to their intended prey, Lisa looked down the barrel of what her power told her was a forty-millimetre grenade launcher. Behind her, Regent moved; through her power, she got the impression that he was making some sort of gesture. He's screwing with her aim. In response, the barrel of the launcher dipped dramatically, until it was pointed straight down inside the vehicle. There was a gush of smoke as it fired, then a translucent golden globe radiated out from that spot. Right then, Lisa decided to forgive Alec for any transgressions for about, say, the next week.

Rachel whistled another command, and the dogs split to the left and right. Brutus and Judas went left, while Angelica went right. All of the dogs avoided the rapidly-expanding hemisphere; even as they passed by, it got out to about a ten yard diameter, then popped like a soap bubble. At about this point, Oni Lee collapsed into ash.

He jumped too late and got caught in the effect. Whatever the effect was, Lisa wasn't quite sure. However, she was glad that she'd missed it. Knowing Bakuda, that wasn't a happy-friendly-hug type of grenade.

Guiding Angelica back around in a circle, she sent the dog trotting toward the stopped jeep. "Keep an eye out!" she shouted. "Oni Lee might still be around!"

While the others scanned the area, she paid closer attention to Bakuda and the guy in the driver's seat. They were alive, but not in a good condition. It wasn't hard to figure out what had happened to them. Pain, and lots of it.

<><>​

Brian

"What do we do now?" He was asking more out of reflex than anything else.

"If we just leave her, she'll keep coming after us." Lisa wasn't answering the question so much as thinking out loud.

"Okay, why don't we -" began Regent.

Lisa spoke over him. "We can't kill her, because unwritten rules."

"She wanted to kill us," objected Rachel. She was leaning forward on Brutus, her hands flexing slightly. Wants to give the order anyway. We can't stop her if she does.

"No, she's right," Grue put in. "If we killed her once she was helpless, that opens us up to everyone else coming down on us like a ton of bricks." He paused, then went on reflectively, "And I'm not sure that Taylor would really approve anyway."

"She wouldn't," Lisa agreed immediately. "It would alienate her. She'd think she couldn't trust us. Also, Amy's friend wants Bakuda alive, remember?"

"Well, okay, fine." Lisa couldn't see Regent's expression, but she knew he was rolling his eyes. "What do we do with her, if we can't kill her? Because I'm not letting her go."

"Way I see it, we've got one option …" began Grue.

Lisa slid down off of Angelica and went over to the still-running jeep. "I agree," she said, checking the driver's pulse. It was rapid but strong. He twitched when she touched his neck. She turned the vehicle off, then moved on.

"Two options," Regent offered.

"What's the other one? And we already agreed not to kill her." Grue's voice was firm.

"No," Lisa stated as she rounded the jeep. "We're not letting you hijack her." A small part of her mind protested. Having a Tinker at our disposal would be very useful. She grimaced. Until the other capes in Brockton Bay realised that we were holding her in slavery. And then we're dead.

Again, Regent put on that deliberately-annoying tone. "I never get to do anything fun."

Lisa ignored him, pulling off Bakuda's left boot and sock. After that, she carefully removed the toe rings she found there. For good measure, she appropriated the woman's goggles as well.

"Unmasking …" Grue reminded her warningly.

"This is what she needs to set her bombs off," Lisa pointed out. "You don't leave Tinker shit in reach of the Tinker." Each of the rings went into a separate pouch in her belt. The goggles she hung around her neck. Then she started zip-tying the woman's wrists together, attaching them to a handhold.

"So what are we gonna do with her?" Rachel sounded impatient.

"That's easy," Lisa said cheerfully, pulling out her phone.

<><>​

One Phone Call Later

Colin slowed down when he saw the jeep. It was slewed across one lane, part-way into another. From what he could see, it held two people. The call said Bakuda and some ABB flunky. A flick of his eyes brought up the latest image of Bakuda, and he compared it with what he could see. She's not wearing goggles, but apart from that …

"Armsmaster to Dragon. I'm on site. The tip seems accurate. One jeep, two occupants. Visual inspection suggests that one of them is Bakuda. They appear to be unconscious." Another flick of his eyes toggled a different visual mode. "Infrared scan indicates that they're alive."

"Copy that." The little green dot in the upper-left field of his HUD showed that she was streaming his helmet feed. "That's what it looks like to me, too."

Parking the bike, Armsmaster swung his armoured leg over the saddle with the ease of long practice. "Moving closer to investigate and apprehend."

"Understood. Be careful."

"I'm always careful." He unracked the halberd from his back and made it extend to its full length in one easy movement. Using the HUD, he set it to stun-shock mode and advanced on the vehicle. Neither occupant reacted to his approach; once he got around to Bakuda's side of the jeep, he paused to examine the situation more closely.

"Bakuda and the driver seem to be either unconscious or faking it very convincingly. Their hands have been zip-tied to the interior of the vehicle. There is a pile of ash in the rear of the jeep, along with what appears to be a great deal of Tinkertech ordnance. Do you concur?"

"I do. The ash seems to be of the same consistency as that which Oni Lee leaves behind. Did you see the zip-lock bags and the note taped to the dashboard?"

Colin had not. He swung his gaze to the dashboard; as Dragon had pointed out, there were two small plastic bags, as well as a note, attached to the dashboard with professional grade duct tape. Each bag held a metal ring; one of the rings was somewhat larger than the other. The note was brief and to the point: Don't let the rings touch. Look in the glove compartment. It was signed with the letters Tt.

Removing the bags from the dash, Colin brought them close to his visor, careful to not even bring the plastic into contact. The close-up inspection revealed minute details, resembling circuit boards, inscribed into the metal of the rings. "Dragon, does that look like Tinker work to you?"

"It certainly does. I would infer that we are looking at Bakuda's detonation trigger, and that it was indeed Tattletale who called it in. Look at Bakuda's left foot."

"I swear, you're better at using my helmet sensors than I am." But his grumbling was good-natured as he looked down. Sure enough, the bomb Tinker's boot lay next to her foot, a sock draped over the top if it. Around the base of the big toe was a groove; Colin would have bet his halberd that the larger of the two rings would fit neatly into that groove. "So. Rings on toes. She selects the bomb somehow ..."

Dragon must have realised the next step at the same time as he did, because they spoke in unison. "Using the HUD in the goggles."

"Exactly," he said. "And then she crosses her toes to set off the one she's chosen."

"Which means that the goggles must hold the data for where all the bombs she's set are. And possibly the codes to disarm them."

Colin popped the glove compartment. Inside, along with a roll of the same duct tape and the expected goggles, was another note with just one word on it: Hi!

Grabbing his halberd, he spun around, raising the weapon defensively.

"Colin, what's the matter? What happened?"

"That note means I'm being watched," he said tensely. "Nobody ever leaves something like that unless they've got you under observation." He scanned the rooftops on both sides of the street.

"It could be just a ploy to mess with your head," she suggested. "My analysis of Tattletale's actions to date suggests that this would not be out of character for her."

"True," he agreed, but he did not relax. Instead, he activated the polarisation for the visor. "However, there are more effective ways of doing that. I think – ah." His eyes narrowed as he spotted something protruding over the parapet of a building opposite. Sunlight glinting from a window on a taller building made it almost impossible to see with the naked eye, but the polarisation handily defeated that. "And there they are. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's the top of someone's head."

"You're not wrong," Dragon admitted. "Oh, and they just waved." The slim arm was clad in purple. "That's the colour of Tattletale's costume, isn't it?"

She was right, of course. Activating the grapple-line mode of his halberd, Colin pointed it at the edge of the rooftop. A press of his thumb caused the capacitors to discharge into the high-powered electromagnets, launching the grappling head toward its target. It struck, clamping on to the ageing brickwork. He triggered the rewind function, locking his gauntlets on to the shaft of the halberd as it yanked him upward.

His boots struck the side of the wall first, then the halberd reconnected with its head. Latching more tightly on to the brickwork, it swivelled so that the shaft swung up and over, depositing him on the rooftop with relative ease. He turned to face the villains that awaited him, the halberd releasing its grip on the edge of the roof and re-purposing itself as an offensive weapon.

It was times like this, he decided, that made all the hard work and long hours in the lab truly worth it.

Four parahumans faced him. He recognised them all from their file photos; Grue, Tattletale, Regent and Hellhound. The latter had three enormous lizard-rhino-dog monsters behind her; he'd seen photos of those, too. For a moment, he wondered about the absence of their newest member, but then recalled that it was a school day. No large swarms of insects seemed to be in evidence, so he decided that he was safe from that quarter, at least for the moment.

"You gonna fight me?" he called out. A flick of the eyes activated his HUD lie detector.

"Wasn't in the plan," Tattletale replied with an irritating grin. She wore a skin-tight lavender costume with an eye design worked into the chest area, and a domino mask. "We just thought we'd hand over Bakuda and go on our merry way."

TRUE, the detector reported.

"Bakuda's secured," he replied shortly. "And you're still wanted for the bank job, and for being accessories to the murder of a PRT officer. At the very least." He hefted the halberd. "Make this easy on yourselves. Give up now."

"The bank job was at the behest of Coil," she replied. "You know, that PRT official? Yeah, he was a supervillain. So whoever offed him did you a huge favour. Plugged a massive security leak. Also, that Amber Alert that was due to come out today, where the mayor's niece got kidnapped? That was Coil, too. We didn't know we were just a diversion. But once we found out, we fixed our mess. We saved the girl and got her back to her parents."

"And Calvert?" he asked. His detector was reading TRUTH on every statement, but he wanted to shake things up in case she was quoting from a prepared script. If she sees it as a story, then she might not give appropriate reactions to truth or falsehood.

She gave him a dry look. "Coil wasn't going to give up, and he wasn't going to go away. What happened was for the best. Trust me on this. The PRT would not have looked good if it ever came out." Her grin became even more irritating. "You're welcome. Again."

His detector had not flickered from its TRUTH reading even once. She believed every word implicitly. Maybe that's her power. To make even herself believe her lies. "You're Tattletale. The so-called psychic. Why should I believe you?"

"Because you've got a lie detector in your helmet," the lavender-clad villain pointed out quite accurately. TRUTH. "From what I've been told, anyway." TRUTH.

Who the hell would have told her?

"Armsmaster, how did she know?"

He didn't bother denying it. "I've reason to believe that it can be spoofed. People have done it, recently." The bug girl. Skitter.

"No." She stared directly at his visor. "One person. And that person was telling the truth, then." TRUTH. "You were the one who changed things." TRUTH.

What – I – how … He tried to rein in his spinning thoughts. Did I make her into a villain?

"What's she talking about? What did you do?"

"I'll tell you later," he sub-vocalised, without moving his lips.

Although he thought that he'd been careful, Tattletale grinned again, then waved. "Whoever it is that you're talking to, say hi for me."

Dragon's voice was measured. "She is very perceptive."

So I'm learning.

But Tattletale wasn't done. "Oh, and by the way, what he's going to tell you later is that he was a dick to someone we know, who wanted to be a hero, and now that person has gone the villain route."

TRUTH.

"Oh, Colin." Dragon's voice was a sigh. "What have you done?"

He drew himself up. "I did what I thought was right at the time."

Tattletale snorted. "Like no cape in the history of the world has ever said that before. Nobody ever sets out to do the wrong thing. That bit just comes naturally, after a whole lot of bad decisions."

TRUTH.

Gritting his teeth, Colin hefted the halberd, double-checking that it was set to a non-lethal stun mode. He also deactivated the lie detector; it was starting to get on his nerves. "Be that as it may, you're still wanted. I'm taking you all in. Do yourselves a favour and don't resist. It'll go better for you that way."

Each of the teenagers opposite him, bar Tattletale, tensed up at his words. Regent raised his sceptre, while blackness billowed out around Grue. Tattletale held up her hand, still grinning that infuriating grin. "Nope. You're gonna have to put us on the back burner. There's a more important matter that you've got to deal with, and any fight with us would waste precious time."

He gritted his teeth again, reactivating the detector. She was really very annoying. "And why would that be?"

She pointed toward his belt. "Those goggles. Have you checked them out yet?"

He couldn't resist glancing down, to where Bakuda's goggles hung from his belt. He didn't even remember putting them there after opening the glove compartment. "Not yet, but I've deduced that they're how she picks out targets. Is that the important information you were going to tell me?"

Her air of insufferable smugness intensified. "Nope. The information is this. Bakuda was planning to create a massive diversion so that Oni Lee could bust Lung out of the PRT building." TRUTH.

The grin fell off her face. "She's got bombs planted all over the city, and those goggles can help you find them. If they get set off, we're looking at hundreds of casualties. And we don't know that some of them might not have been set to go off on a timer already. And there's one more thing."

TRUTH.

As the detector flashed green yet again, he felt a chill run down his back. "What's that?"

"A lot of those bombs are designed to kill one person only. The person they're implanted in." To make her meaning crystal clear, she turned her head and tapped the back of her neck, up under the skull. "Right there. Innocents. Parents. Children. It doesn't matter to her."

TRUTH.

It was as if she knew every button to press to get his attention. Fucking Thinkers. But even if she was spoofing his lie detector, he knew that he couldn't ignore the warning. "Very well. But I will find you again. And if you're lying to me …"

"I'm not. We're done here." She began to turn away, then paused. "Oh, and one more thing."

He was beginning to hate that phrase. "What?"

Atypically, she hesitated. "There's something … you're going to want to keep it on the down-low. Alexandria was supposed to go after Bakuda last night. Bakuda's here today. What do you think that might mean?"

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and headed for the smallest of the three mutated monsters. The others followed, more warily. Colin let them go; his entire attention was on the lie detector readout. The last question hadn't registered, but the statements before it had.

TRUTH.

<><>​

Thursday Night

April 14, 2011

As long and distinguished criminal careers went, Bakuda's … wasn't. She had gotten away from the debacle at Cornell more by luck than good judgement. Not long afterward, she had been approached and recruited by Lung, who apparently didn't care that she was only half Japanese, or that she'd been born in Ohio, or that her maternal grandparents had emigrated to the United States just after the Second World War.

It was one of the reasons that she wore the mask; while it made her sound creepy and robotic, it also erased all traces of accent from her voice, so that those of Lung's flunkies who took stock in such things wouldn't know that she couldn't even speak Japanese.

She hadn't been at Cornell to learn the language of her mother's parents. Nor had she been intending to start a villainous career. But after she had triggered with powers – and the less said about that, the better – she had done the best she could with what she had.

It hadn't been enough to get everything she wanted, but at least she had evaded capture. And learned some very valuable lessons in the process. And so, when Lung offered her a large amount of money to make use of her Tinker talents for the ABB, she had hastened to put some of it toward the most intensive workshop security that she could manage.

Thus, when the HUD in her goggles flared to life with multiple warnings, she immediately knew that she had a real problem.

There was no overt warning; the door hadn't opened, and she hadn't heard footsteps. The pressure-plates in the floor were quiescent, so nobody was sneaking up behind her. But there was someone in the workshop with her, all the same.

To begin with, the IR sensors were certain that a human-shaped object had just appeared in the workshop behind her. In addition, the CO2 filters were reporting an increased workload, and the laser scanners were painting a human shape closing with her position. A flying human shape, one who had apparently just teleported into the most secure Tinker lab in Brockton Bay.

The bomb Tinker turned fast, a half-assembled trap-mine in her hands. Hovering in the air just a few yards away, heavy cape draping over her shoulders in a way that would set the most stylish parahumans to weeping with envy, was every villain's nightmare.

Alexandria.

"Back off, bitch!" snapped Bakuda, knowing that the mask would translate it into a mechanical monotone but not caring. She brandished the uncompleted mine in the flying woman's direction while beginning a retreat of her own. "If I set this off, it'll do something unpredictable. Kill you, kill me, create a miniature black hole … who knows what it'll do? You want to be responsible for something like that?"

Alexandria drifted forward, slowly but inexorably closing the distance. "I think you're bluffing," she said flatly. "You're not showing the appropriate respect for something that volatile."

Shit. Bakuda didn't know how she knew that, but it was true. So much for the goddamn mask wiping all stress out of my voice. Which was the other purpose she had designed it for. She backed up a little faster, angling to put a bench between her and the hero.

"Now, put it down, carefully," Alexandria went on. Bakuda wished she knew how the hero managed to pack so much menace into just five words. Even Lung required overt threats to put the fear of God into her so thoroughly. "Do not use your fingertips. Do not press any panic buttons. If I see you attempt to press anything, I will come over there, and I will break your arms."

Using the heels of her hands, Bakuda put the mine down on an empty section of her bench and kept backing up. Behind her goggles, she was busy with her HUD. "Why haven't you already done that, then?"

Alexandria's tone was calm and steady. "Because I'm fully aware that I'm facing off a Tinker with a very destructive speciality in her own workshop, and I'm fully aware of the potential for disaster if I happen to cause you to panic. I don't want you to panic. I want you to listen. And to keep your hands in full view. Thank you."

Under her mask, Bakuda grinned viciously as she raised her hands once more. I don't need my hands to set shit off, but you don't know that, do you? "Listen?" she repeated. "To what?" She backed up to another bench.

"I want you to work for the Protectorate," Alexandria stated flatly. "You'll get a salary and all the resources you need."

Okay, now she's just bullshitting me, trying to get me off guard. Bakuda eyed the benches, their contents, and the relative positions of Alexandria and herself within the room. Not perfect, but it'll have to do.

"Yeah, sure – like fuck I will!" she spat, turning to dive and roll under the bench behind her.

"Bakuda!" shouted Alexandria, lofting into the air to pass over the benches separating them, just as Bakuda had anticipated. She already had the HUD commands queued up, and her toes crossed within her boot. I am gonna have to rebuild so much shit.

The first bomb to go off was the black-hole grenade, behind Alexandria and to her left. It immediately started sucking in everything in its vicinity. The bench it had been sitting on went first, crumpling and crushing itself into an absurdly tiny space. Thousands of dollars worth of components and finished bombs followed very shortly, sucked into the point-mass. Caught in the powerful pseudo-gravitational surge, Alexandria was momentarily dragged backward, before she poured on the power and began to struggle forward again.

Keeping track of her progress via the workshop sensors – those not being distorted by the baby black hole's intense gravity field – Bakuda was impressed. But not so impressed that she didn't set off the other bomb just as the Triumvirate hero passed over it. This one was the time-freeze grenade. More shit to rebuild. Oh, well. Better it than me.

As far as Bakuda could tell, Alexandria had no idea what hit her; one moment she had been seconds from laying hands on the bomb Tinker and the next she was engulfed in the time-stop field. She must have been watching me rather than the stuff on the benches. Her bad luck. The time-freeze grenade had been rolling across the bench toward the baby black hole when Bakuda set it off, so her timing had been better than even she had hoped. Timing. Hah. I kill me.

The tiny black hole fizzled and died; this was followed by a thunderous crash, as the ton or so of super-compacted debris fell to the floor. However, Alexandria was left floating above the bench in the globe of stopped time, her cape drawn back behind her dramatically. Although stationary, she was straining forward as if trying to break the sound barrier and save the day. Around her, small objects had also been captured, frozen in motion toward the now-defunct black-hole effect. They weren't going to be going anywhere now, and nor was Alexandria.

"Holy shit." That didn't feel nearly effective enough. "Holy shit!" she yelled. The adrenaline was just now starting to wear off, and she felt a wave of exultation welling up from deep within her. "I took on fucking Alexandria and won!"

Dancing wasn't really her thing, but she tried anyway, executing an extemporaneous victory jig. As a finale, she grabbed a piece of scrap paper, balled it up, and threw it at the frozen hero. It struck a boundary only a few feet away from Bakuda, and hung there. This time, it was Bakuda's turn to freeze, with the realisation that she'd been an arm's length away from being trapped herself causing ice water to trickle through her veins.

"Fuck." She stared at Alexandria. The woman had been powering toward her while the grenade rolled away; half a second either way, and she would have been either trapped in the time bubble or captured by Alexandria. "Fuck." That was too fucking close.

There was a small fridge in the corner of the workshop, ostensibly there to keep certain components chilled until they were ready for use. However, she also stored beer in it … because, well … beer. Heading over to the fridge now, she lifted her mask, popped the cap off a bottle, and chugged it down. The ice cold liquid seemed to rejuvenate her brain, speeding up her thought processes.

Okay, so what do I do now? I've got a member of the fucking Triumvirate stuck in time like a fly in amber. Pretty sure the ratio in there's ten billion to one, so even if she gets out in one-tenth of a second, that's thirty years. So she's out of the picture. But what about the other two?

The first bottle was unaccountably empty, so she opened a second one and considered her options. If they were keeping tabs on her, they'd be here right now and I'd be kinda screwed. And if they can find her, they can find me. And once that happens, I am definitely screwed, and not in a good way. Legend and Eidolon, of course, favoured ranged attacks, which would play to their strengths and her weaknesses. I guess I was kinda lucky that it was Alexandria who came looking for me.

She drained the beer, then hurled the bottle at the time-freeze field. It stuck there, hanging upside-down in midair. Within, Alexandria stared fixedly forward; she obviously hadn't realised her predicament as yet.

I could close down this workshop and go elsewhere, but that leaves her to be found, along with all that evidence inside the time-freeze field to point toward me. No, it's better if I stay. I'll just have to mark out the field boundary before I do anything else.

Another thought intruded. What about tomorrow? I still need to fuck up the Undersiders before I start the bombings. She looked over the workshop, at the damage created by the black-hole bomb and the area presumably enclosed by the time-freeze field. That's tens of thousands of dollars right there. I don't know if I can afford to hire Uber and L33t right now. She grinned savagely. That's fine. I'll do it all myself. I don't need those losers.

<><>​

Earlier on Friday Morning

April 15, 2011

Contessa sighed. How did she get herself into that situation? A minor exertion of her power would have given her the answer, but all she needed to know was that while Alexandria wasn't dead, she was out of the picture until something could be done to save her. This is going to disrupt matters. Fatally? She checked the plan in her head. No. Just more to do. Seventy-three extra steps to deal with it. I don't need her immediately, and it won't harm her to stay there for a while. This might go as far as to teach her some humility. The last bit was a private joke; teaching Alexandria humility, she knew, would take far fewer steps than that.

Pulling out her smartphone, she typed up and sent an email without looking, much less paying attention to what the email said or who she was sending it to. That task complete, she put the phone away and boarded the bus. Step complete. In the process, she gave the bus driver a wide smile and a generous tip. This would give him a boost to his day, and he would avoid a traffic pileup which would otherwise cause three people on the bus to be late to work.

<><>​

Washington, DC

Miranda Lange was proud to be an American. Moreover, she was proud to assist, even if it was from behind the scenes, with the running of the office of the Chief Director of the Parahuman Response Teams. A minor aerokinetic with the ability to mimic any sound she had ever heard, she was also fortunate enough to be a reasonably close match to Alexandria, in body if not face. She kept her blonde hair cropped short, and there was a metal mask and long black wig in her closet at all times.

Originally, she had been brought on board to impersonate Alexandria, but after several years, she had been cleared for the full secret behind the deception. A Tinkertech face-mask allowed her to masquerade as the Chief Director when needed, freeing Alexandria to perform acts of derring-do while Miranda was making public appearances as the Chief Director.

The discovery that the head of the PRT was a parahuman had initially somewhat shocked her. However, after a careful explanation of the situation by a business-suited woman whose name Miranda hadn't quite caught, it all became clear to her. Rebecca Costa-Brown was the best choice to run the PRT; she had proven that many times over since it had been formed. And if she was a parahuman, so what? If all that Alexandria needed was a helping hand to keep the secret, then Miranda was absolutely willing to do her part. It wasn't as if anyone was being hurt, and Alexandria was much better at being a hero than she was.

Her laptop chimed, signalling an email. She clicked on it, noting the familiar header; a thrill of anticipation ran through her body. Do I get to be Alexandria today? Please let me be Alexandria.

As she read through the email, her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Being Rebecca Costa-Brown was more strenuous, and she had to talk more. Her power let her replicate the Chief Director's voice exactly, but she still hadn't gotten the hang of projecting her personality in the same way. Still, they were depending on her to do the job, so the job would get done.

Picking up her phone, she dialled a specific number, leading with a series of digits not used by any normal phone number. This diverted the call through the Chief Director's office line, making it seem as though the call was coming from there.

The phone on the other end rang just once before being picked up. "Piggot."

Miranda took a deep breath, 'tuning' the sound that came out of her mouth to match the Chief Director's voice. "Emily, this is Chief Director Costa-Brown …"


End of Part Eighteen

Part Nineteen

 

[Starfox5]

Oh, quite the revelations there. Poor Colin and Alexandria. Regent's a riot. And Lisa's too smug for her own good again.

 

[Ack]

Oh, quite the revelations there. Poor Colin and Alexandria. Regent's a riot. And Lisa's too smug for her own good again.

Click to shrink...

Do you blame her? She's got all sorts of insider information and she's loving it.

 

[Darkarma]

New chapter and wow, nice job Bakuda. I always wondered though why dragon and Armsmaster never tinkered up a space manipulation field to get people out of Time Stop Fields. Same tech used to power the Birdcage's internal size.

 

[Ack]

New chapter and wow, nice job Bakuda. I always wondered though why dragon and Armsmaster never tinkered up a space manipulation field to get people out of Time Stop Fields. Same tech used to power the Birdcage's internal size.

Click to shrink...

That's time rather than space. In any case, the 'changing internal size' aspect of the Birdcage was only ever speculation.

 

[Darkarma]

That's time rather than space. In any case, the 'changing internal size' aspect of the Birdcage was only ever speculation.

Click to shrink...

I was thinking trying to separate the victim from the source of the field or decrease the distance they had to travel

 

[Ack]

I was thinking trying to separate the victim from the source of the field or decrease the distance they had to travel

Click to shrink...

The time ratio is ten billion to one. One second equals three hundred years. You either remove them instantaneously or kill the field all at once. There's no other reasonable way to get someone out.

EDIT: a plot bunny just hopped up to me. Suppose Taylor and one or two of the Undersiders were actually caught in the time bubble during the Bakuda battle ... and they stepped out of it three hundred years later. Two hundred plus years after whatever happened with Zion.

EDIT2: Bad plot bunny! Bad!

 

[Darkarma]

EDIT2: Bad plot bunny! Bad!

Click to shrink...

Glastig and her faerie court is queen of the world after saving it from Golden Morning. By the she has all the power of both entities and is able to handle the calamities that follow.

 

[Asheram]

Ah, Fortuna. This is why you don't skimp on the fucking questions.
"Path to ensuring that no one in Cauldron dies" isn't the same as "Path to ensure that no one in Cauldron dies, isn't mentally healthy in accordance to my standards, isn't mastered, or in any other way prohibited from doing their duties."

 

[Ack]

Ah, Fortuna. This is why you don't skimp on the fucking questions.
"Path to ensuring that no one in Cauldron dies" isn't the same as "Path to ensure that no one in Cauldron dies, isn't mentally healthy in accordance to my standards, isn't mastered, or in any other way prohibited from doing their duties."

Click to shrink...

Eh, she can fix it. Just another seventy-three steps. Seventy-two, now

 

[edale]

Brian shook his head as he got up from beside the supine gangster. "Seriously? That show's older than both of us put together. And I do not believe that you've ever watched it."

"Not deliberately, no." Regent grimaced slightly as he took the radio. "But when my father decided to catch the reruns … well, let's just say that nobody asked him if he could change the channel."

There really wasn't anything that Brian could say to that. I'm sorry your dad's a massive douche who Masters everyone he meets? It seemed a little inadequate.

Click to shrink...

when did Brian find out about Alec's dad? I thought at this point only Lisa on the Undersiders knew that? Or was that one of the things revealed when Amy talked to the Undersiders? I didn't feel like going back and rereading that...

Glastig and her faerie court is queen of the world after saving it from Golden Morning. By the she has all the power of both entities and is able to handle the calamities that follow.

Click to shrink...

Glastig was FIRMLY on Zion's side right up until the end when she saw him getting curbstomped by QAaylor.

 

[Ack]

when did Brian find out about Alec's dad? I thought at this point only Lisa on the Undersiders knew that?

Click to shrink...

Security, through Amy, filled them in.

 

[Asheram]

Eh, she can fix it. Just another seventy-three steps. Seventy-two, now

Click to shrink...

So slothful!

 

[evildice]

Glastig was FIRMLY on Zion's side right up until the end when she saw him getting curbstomped by QAaylor.

Click to shrink...

She and Eidolon went on the attack before Taylor hatched the plan to bring the Endbringers on board.

QAylor didn't exist until long after that point.

 

[edale]

She and Eidolon went on the attack before Taylor hatched the plan to bring the Endbringers on board.

QAylor didn't exist until long after that point.

Click to shrink...

She was simply helping the "High Priest" to find his powers. At no point did she think anything they did could even harm Zion.

She was simply playing her part in what she perceived to be Zion's plan.

It wasn't until after QAylor was bullying Zion to death --Glaistig seeing Zion falling apart at the seams mentally and emotionally-- when she finally made the conscious decision to not help Zion after breaking from QAylor's control.

This was the point that, according to Dr Yamada, Ciara grew out of childhood and into adolescence.

 

[gaouw]

Umm,, why did fixing Alexandria need 73 step?

Amy can fix it in less than 10 step.

1. Ask Mack.

2. Mack says the way to fix Eidolon's power.

3. Eidolon choose the power that cancels out time field.

Did Mack Contessa-Proof?

 

[Xilph]

Umm,, why did fixing Alexandria need 73 step?

Amy can fix it in less than 10 step.

1. Ask Mack.

2. Mack says the way to fix Eidolon's power.

3. Eidolon choose the power that cancels out time field.

Did Mack Contessa-Proof?

Click to shrink...

Because step count is entirely arbitrary by the author and can be made as big as wanted by just involving more precise steps? There's also the potential to not see that because of Eidolon, or just get 20 to 30 steps describing the process to ensure it would succeed.

Really, leaping to that extent is a stretch, Eidolon screwing things up is far more likely even for your three steps, and it just being more detailed and cautious to maximize success works for any step count that seems too high pretty much.

 

[gaouw]

That is true.

Shard driven conflict is a thing, after all.

 

[Ack]

Umm,, why did fixing Alexandria need 73 step?

Amy can fix it in less than 10 step.

1. Ask Mack.

2. Mack says the way to fix Eidolon's power.

3. Eidolon choose the power that cancels out time field.

Did Mack Contessa-Proof?

Click to shrink...

Mack was always Contessa-proof.

The 73 steps is partly as described above, and partly because she has to perform other steps in between to ensure that her actions in freeing Alexandria don't knock other Paths off the rails.

 

[edale]

Lets not forget the first 3 steps of ALL Paths.

Step 1: Breathe in.
Step 2: Breathe out.
Step 3: Repeat steps 1-2 while completing steps 4-#.

And depending on if the Shard learned from it's accidently-ing Eden...
Step 4: Watch where you're walking.

 

[gaouw]

Mack was always Contessa-proof.

The 73 steps is partly as described above, and partly because she has to perform other steps in between to ensure that her actions in freeing Alexandria don't knock other Paths off the rails.

Click to shrink...

Yeah, I kinda forget the part where Amy give Contessa the beatdown of her life in Coil's Lair.

 

[Ack]

I, Panacea

Part Nineteen: Panacea at Winslow, Part the Third


[A/N: This chapter beta-read, and much improved upon, by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]


The more that Amy moved around Winslow, the harder it became for her not to compare the place – unfavourably – with Arcadia. Graffiti abounded, students openly wore gang colours in the hallways, and she was pretty sure that more than a few of them were high. The three that brushed past her certainly were. But the worst bit, in her considered opinion, was the fact that the staff apparently just didn't care.

Still trying to get her head around this, she followed Taylor down the hallway. Despite the fact that she couldn't get sick, she still didn't want to touch the walls.

Hey, Amy.

What?

Do me a favour. Get your phone out, and turn on the recording function for me.

What? Why?

There was humour in his tone. It's amazing what people will say if they don't know they're being recorded.

Pretty sure it won't be admissible in a court of law.

An after-school meeting isn't a court of law.

Of course. Carol had taught her that much. Good point.

Taking her phone out, she paged through the screens, found the one she wanted, and did as Michael had said. Feeling more than a little self-conscious, she tucked the phone into her blouse pocket. Taylor looked at her oddly; Amy shrugged. I hope we get something good before the battery runs out.

<><>​

As it happened, they were the fifth and sixth people into the classroom for math period. Emma sat with Madison and Julia, at the desks they always favoured. The teacher, an older man who Amy decided had to be on the downhill slide of a battle against alcoholism, sat at his desk. Rather than ask Taylor who he was, Amy decided to check her own personal repository of esoteric knowledge. Who's he?

That's Mr Quinlan. And you're right. He's a pisspot.

She was almost startled into a giggle. A what?

Pisspot. From 'piss', noun, meaning 'alcohol', and 'pot', noun, meaning 'one who contains'. Thus, one who contains alcohol.

Oh. A drunk.

What I just said.

Where is that a word for 'drunk'?

Australia.

How do you … She paused. This is a conversation for another time.

Yup. And Taylor's got some bad news.

What?

She looked at Taylor, to see that the taller girl was looking down at the seat of the desk nearest the door. It was covered in orange juice.

Amy immediately looked over at the red-haired girl and her cronies. They looked back at her; she detected not the faintest flicker of guilt in their expressions. Triumph and challenge, yes, but not guilt. If I accuse them, they'll just deny it and alibi each other out.

Yup. Michael's voice held dour satisfaction. See what Taylor's been up against, here?

Yeah. Kind of wondering why she didn't go out to be a villain months ago.

Like I said. Wanted to be a hero.

"It's okay," Taylor said quietly. "We'll get different desks."

Amy shook her head. "No. I'm not going to let this shit go on." Turning, she marched up to where Mr Quinlan was sitting at his desk, writing. Stopping in front of the desk, she waited, while other kids entered the room behind her. She could tell that some were shooting her curious glances, but she didn't let that deter her.

After half a minute, during which time the teacher did not look up once, she cleared her throat politely. "Excuse me, sir?"

Another fifteen seconds or so passed before Mr Quinlan raised his head and looked vaguely in her direction. She didn't need the waft of alcohol-fuelled breath to tell her that he was drunk; or at least, that he had been drinking. On a school day? Drunk in class? Jesus. I can't even …

"Can I help you?" he asked sharply, his gaze focusing on her. "Do I know you? I don't think you're in my class."

"Sir, my name's Amy Dallon," she said, then added helpfully, "Panacea."

Quinlan blinked hard, then stared at her. "Panacea?" It was as if he'd never heard the word before. "Ridiculous. Panacea would never come to Winslow. Go and sit down, whoever you are. We're about to start class."

With a sigh, Amy pulled out her PRT-issued ID card. It wouldn't get her anywhere sensitive inside the building, but she could at least use it to identify herself to dubious PRT officers. And drunken math teachers. "Sir, I am Panacea, and I need to talk to you about something important."

He stared at the card. "That can't be real."

Holy shit, this is worse than dealing with the Merchants. Producing her phone from her pocket, she showed it to him. "I can call Deputy Director Renick of the PRT and get him to verify it for you," she offered. "Or, you know, Brandish. Of New Wave."

"All right, fine, let's say you are who you say you are," Quinlan huffed. "Why are you here, and what do you want?"

"If you don't mind, sir, I'd like you to come and look at Taylor Hebert's chair. Someone's played a prank on her. Again."

He frowned. "Who?"

"That girl there," she said, pointing directly at Taylor. "They put orange juice on her chair."

"Orange juice?" He frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She couldn't believe that she was having to spell it out. "One of your students has been pranked by another one of your students. In your class. In front of you. Please, come and examine the evidence. There are exactly three suspects."

With an irritated grunt, he heaved himself out of his chair. She waited till she was sure that he would indeed follow her, then led the way to show him the seat in question.

Orange juice was still pooled in the seat of Taylor's chair. Quinlan stared at it, as if unsure as to what it was, or what to do about it. "Okay, who did this?"

"One of three people," Amy stated clearly. "Emma Barnes. Julia Morrow. Madison Clements. All of whom are under suspicion for bullying Taylor already." As she spoke, she pointed out the three girls in question.

Quinlan looked back and forth between the juice-filled seat, Amy's set face and the three that she had pointed out. Amy didn't have to have physical contact with the man to know that he really didn't appreciate being put into such a position. Well, if you actually did your fucking job once in a while …

Before he could come to a decision, Emma spoke up. "That's a lie. None of us did it."

Amy was coming to despise her more and more by the moment. "Mr Quinlan, she or her friends almost certainly did do it, because they were the only ones in here when we got here. You didn't do it, and we didn't do it, so -"

"Actually, you probably did do it," Emma broke in, glaring at Amy. "Glory Girl's so popular, you'll do anything to get attention."

"Or just to get us in trouble." That was Madison, right on cue.

"Yeah," added Julia sycophantically.

Amy shook her head. "No, you -"

"Panacea, listen." It was Mr Quinlan. "They're right. We don't know who did it. So just clean it off and sit down already. I've got a class to teach."

Taylor sighed; Amy realised that she'd known how this was going to go from the beginning. "Mr Quinlan, where can I tip it? I don't want to make a mess on the floor."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Emma stage-whispered, causing a ripple of laughter across the room.

"I don't care," the teacher declared as he reached his desk. "Just do it."

"Taylor, one second," Amy murmured. She took her phone from her pocket, turned off the recording function and activated the camera. Carefully, she took a photo of the seat. The light wasn't great, but she was pretty sure that she'd gotten it.

After tucking the phone away, she put her finger in her mouth for a second, then dipped the same finger into the pool of juice. The custom micro-organisms that she had created in her mouth spread through the pool like wildfire; by the time she pulled her finger out of the puddle, the surface had already hardened to a jelly-like substance.

God damn, that gets more impressive every time you do it.

Mentally, she preened. Why, thank you.

Taylor stared at what had once been orange juice but which was even now darkening to a light brown. "What did you do to it?"

Amy grinned at her. "Tell you later." Carefully, she prodded the surface. It was springy to the touch, and there were no active micro-organisms at work, which meant that they had run their course and died off. It was the work of a moment to use her nails to lift the now-leathery edge, then she tugged at it. It peeled off the seat, leaving it cleaner than it had been in decades. Am I good? Yes, I am good.

Yes, you are.

Taylor touched the plastic seat. "It's dry."

"Well, it should be. All the water's locked up in this." Wadding the slab of transmuted juice into a rough ball, Amy strolled over to the trash can and dropped it in. By the time she got back, Taylor was already seated. Nobody had quite dared to take Amy's seat, so she sat down as well, and prepared to pretend to pay attention.

Well, that happened.

It did. But we can't relax. They're gonna double down. It's their only option. To scare you off before the day's over.

They won't just give up? Because I don't scare easily.

No. You don't. But the time to give up was the meeting in the office. They didn't take it, so they're going for gold.

What do you think they'll try now?

Nothing in class. Nothing physical where you can see it. They might try to separate you.

She felt the beginnings of frustration. But they're just making more trouble for themselves. Why are they persisting like this?

Because they succeeded in having Glory Girl kicked out. As far as they're concerned, winning is their natural state of affairs. Once you're gone, they can concentrate on coercing Taylor into saying nothing at the meeting.

Amy set her jaw. Not if I've got anything to do with it.

Michael's tone was approving. Good.

<><>​

As the math lesson proceeded, Amy couldn't help wondering why most of the kids in the classroom had even shown up. The majority of them were only showing a token effort to pay attention. Some were talking to each other, while others had their phones out, texting to either their friends across the room or somewhere else altogether.

Amy did not miss that Emma and Madison were also talking to those around them, a state of affairs that she found more than a little concerning. The occasional glance that went Amy's way did absolutely nothing to allay her worries.

Taylor, for her part, seemed to be engrossed in the lesson. She took notes, raised her hand to answer questions, and seemed oblivious to the three girls and their cronies. However, a fly had landed on Amy's hand; concentrating, she directed her power to examine the signals passing through its brain.

As she suspected, there was far more going on in that fly's brain than was normal for any bug. She had seen exactly that sort of thing once before, when dealing with the spiders in the bank. Taylor's using her power right now, directing the bugs in her radius. I wonder what she's doing?

Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately – she was only able to detect that something was going on, not what was going on. This meant that she couldn't accidentally give the game away by looking wherever the bugs were. And it also gives me plausible deniability, she realised. If I don't know what she's doing, I can't tell her to stop it.

Yup. She felt Michael's grin. All that's left for us is to sit back and enjoy the show. They won't try anything overt in this class, not with you watching. But it doesn't mean that Taylor can't make life a little harder for them.

What's she going to do? Amy was starting to get a bad feeling about this. She knew, all too well, exactly how effective Taylor's bugs could be.

Not sure. But she'll be careful about it. And nobody's gonna die. Or even get hurt.

I'm still not entirely okay with this. Just saying.

Pretty sure it won't be anything more drastic than orange juice on the seat.

I still can't believe that Mr Quinlan didn't even try to do something about it.

That got her a mental shrug. Winslow. Blackwell. Emma's both popular and friends with a Ward. Take your pick.

I still don't like it. But I do see your point.

Amy sighed. Michael had faith in Taylor, and she was learning to have faith in Michael. Let's see what happens.

<><>​

For the rest of the class, nothing much did happen. Spitballs were thrown, but none hit Taylor or Amy. Some of the students paid attention, but most did their own thing. She was pretty sure that two students down the back of the classroom were playing a stealthy game of poker.

Then the bell rang. Taylor was on her feet almost immediately, sliding her books into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. Amy stood up as well, unable to stop herself glancing over at Emma and the other two.

Michael seemed to approve of her caution. I don't put it past them to follow us and cause trouble in the hallway.

If they try anything, I'll call them on it.

They're really good at making it sound innocuous.

So I'll call them on it anyway.

A loud thump and a cry of dismay interrupted whatever Michael had been able to say; already halfway out the door, Amy glanced over her shoulder. She couldn't see Madison at all, and Emma seemed to be upset over something. What the hell?

Hah. Sounds like she got 'em, all right.

What did she do?

No idea. He sounded amused. You'll have to ask her.

Taking a deep breath, Amy moved up alongside Taylor. The taller girl's face held a tight smile of satisfaction; had Amy needed any proof of Michael's assertion, this was it.

"What did you do?" Amy pitched her voice low enough that nobody but Taylor would hear it.

Taylor shook her head anyway. "Not here." Her lips barely moved. "Let's get away from the crowd."

"Okay, fine." Amy looked around, then led Taylor into a side-corridor. "What did you do?"

Taylor's smile became a grin. "Well, you remember the cutter bugs you made for me?"

Oh, boy. This is gonna be good.

Trying to ignore Michael's commentary, Amy nodded cautiously. "Uh, yes?"

Taylor glanced piously at the ceiling for a moment. "Well, it seems that somehow, the bottom of Emma's bag got weakened to the point that when she picked it up, everything in it fell out."

"Oh." Amy closed her eyes and put her hand over them. "Oh, crap."

Sweeeeeeet.

This is not good. She could've outed herself.

"What's the matter?" asked Taylor, still grinning. "It's not like she hasn't earned any payback I can give her about a thousand times over."

Amy gave her a stern glare. "For a start, misusing powers, especially against a civilian, is skating really close to the line."

"Which line is that?" Taylor retorted. "The line where a Ward chose to use her powers to assist in the bullying of a civilian – that is, me – until I triggered with powers? Or were you thinking of some other line?"

Welp, she's got you there.

Amy gritted her teeth. "Okay, fine. But just because they did it first doesn't mean that it's all right for you to do it as well."

Taylor's expression suggested that Amy may as well have been speaking Swahili. "You have got to be shitting me. Do you have any idea how long I held back from retaliating in any way, shape or fucking form? I could've swarmed them with bugs the first time they did something to me after I got out of the hospital. And believe me, they didn't take long to start on me again. But I didn't, because I didn't want to be as bad as they were. I wanted to be a fucking hero."

She's telling the truth, you know.

"Yeah, but listen -" Amy began.

"No, you listen." Taylor prodded Amy in the chest with her finger. "I finally find a way that lets me get even a tiny bit of satisfaction out of the situation, and now you want to moralise and tell me that even that's not allowed? Who gave you the right to judge me?"

"Well, for one thing," Amy said, careful to keep her voice down, even as the anger rose in her, "I'm actually the hero, here. You're the one who chose to be a villain, remember?"

The moment stretched out. Amy watched Taylor's face change as her words hit home.

Jesus Christ, Amy. What the fuck?

She pissed me off. What was I supposed to say?

Not that.

"Well, fuck you," hissed Taylor. "Fuck you and your moralising fucking high horse. You've never had to deal with one fucking percent of the shit I face every day of my life, and you think that somehow makes you better than me. Well, it doesn't."

"I've got shit in my life too," Amy shot back. "I've got to deal with problems like you've never imagined. So don't go crying all 'oh my life is so hard' to me. Because news flash, bug girl. You don't have a fucking monopoly on hard times. Heroes get them too."

Whoa, hey, holy shit. Can we dial it back a little here?

You stay out of this. This is between me and her.

"Yeah, heroes have it so hard." Taylor shook her head. "You can go out in public without people trying to arrest you or fucking kill you. You can actually trust other heroes. And oh wait, you've got the Protectorate on speed dial to get you out of any shit you can't handle yourself." She shoved a thumb at her own chest. "I've got exactly four people I can depend on to have my back, and I'm not too sure about two of those. You saw what a shit my boss was. You can't tell me that heroes have problems like that."

"Yeah, well, I've had to grow up with a mother who can't stand the sight of me and a dad who isn't there even when he's there. The only one who cares about me is Vicky, and she doesn't -" She broke off, realising too late where that was going. The horror at her almost-confession drowned out the anger seething inside her.

Bugs burst from Taylor's hair and clothing, buzzing frantically and flying in agitated formations. In contrast, Taylor seemed to calm down dramatically, as she stared at Amy. "So that's what Lisa was talking about." Her voice was speculative, rather than angry.

Oh, shit. She knows. Fear flared in Amy's guts.

Hey, calm down. You've straightened it out with Vicky, remember? Even if she was about to blab it to anyone, it wouldn't do her much good.

She'll still think I'm a pervert, or worse. She faced Taylor, trying not to let the other girl see the disquiet inside her. "I've got no idea what you think you're talking about."

Taylor smirked a little, reminding Amy uncomfortably of Tattletale. "I was wondering what had you so worried at the bank. That's it? That's the big secret? The one that would tear your family apart?"

Something was off. Taylor wasn't reacting with the disgust and distaste that Amy was expecting. Even the bugs seemed to be calming down. "Well, yeah. She's my sister."

"Except she isn't," Taylor pointed out. "It's pretty well an open secret that you're adopted."

"But the world still sees us as sisters," Amy said. "And there'll be a lot of people who'd see it as wrong. And Carol …" She shuddered. "I have no idea how she'd react, but it would be really bad. Take it from me."

"Shit, I thought it was something really bad. Like, I don't know, maybe Glory Girl's beating the shit out of people and conning you into healing them or something."

Amy's heart lurched, and Michael's amusement didn't help much. There is that too.

Shush. She raised her chin and stared defiantly at Taylor. "So now you know my big secret. What are you going to do with it?"

Taylor tilted her head. "Gee, I don't know … nothing, I guess. If you, you know, admit that my life's been suckier than yours."

Oh, for fuck's sake. She's going to hold that over my head just to win an argument?

Well, she is a villain after all … Michael was chuckling now.

How come she's so calm all of a sudden?

She's got this little trick where she shoves her emotions off into the swarm. And is it really so important for you to be in the right?

Hmm, okay. But I still say mine's worse. Out loud, she sighed. "Fine. Your life makes mine look like sunshine and rainbows. Happy now?"

Taylor grinned, the last of the bad temper vanishing as if it had never been. "Yeah, and I'm sorry about what I said. You just hit a nerve, you know?"

Amy grimaced. "Yeah, well, you hit one or two yourself. I'm sorry, too." Awkwardly, she held out her hand. "Friends?"

Taylor reached out and gripped it firmly. "Friends."

The subtle tension in the back of Amy's mind faded away. Whew.

What?

You guys had me worried for a bit, there.

I still think that pranking Emma like that was irresponsible. And that's not counting the fact that she might have outed herself.

You know, if you'd led with that, instead of telling her what she was allowed to do with her powers, she might not have burred up so badly.

I guess …

And, you know, she's got this huge backlog of emotional pressure that she's got to let out somehow, in case she blows and goes bugpocalypse all over the school.

Ah. Amy realised that he had a point. Oh, god. I'm turning into Carol, aren't I?

She caught a hint of amusement from him. Probably not that bad, but it might be an idea to keep an eye on that. There was a pause, then he continued in a different tone. Oooh. Talking about keeping an eye on matters …

What?

Okay, say this to Taylor.

He began to explain; at first she was puzzled, but she quickly caught on. "Taylor, Michael has an idea …"

<><>​

" … four seven three one. Got it. Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate that." Taylor ended the call and handed Amy's phone back to her. "Did you get that?"

"I did." As Taylor watched, Amy referred to her notepad and tapped the new number into the phone. "I've put it in Favourites under 'Long Neck'. Got it?"

"Long Neck … ahh, Deep Throat. Cute."

Amy grinned at her. "What can I say. I read bad spy novels."

Taylor rolled her eyes. "Are you even sure we're going to need this?"

"Michael thinks so," Amy noted. "And I can't fault his logic." She handed Taylor the phone. "So far, every time they've tried to get at you, I've been there. They've got to be getting desperate to coerce you into taking a dive at the meeting. While I'm there, they can't do that."

"So they're gonna try to get rid of you somehow?" Taylor didn't like the sound of that.

Amy smiled. "Well, they tried that in the cafeteria. But the word's probably out in the gangs. Nobody touches me. So if they're gonna separate us, they've got to try something else."

This wasn't making any sense. "How are they going to do that?"

"No idea." Amy shrugged. "He just presented that as the next logical option. Either that or they give up, which would be sensible. We just can't assume that they'll be sensible."

Taylor rolled her eyes again. "Well, given that up until you came here they were winning, I'm not totally surprised."

Amy tilted her head slightly. "Michael says that Sophia's the main driving force behind it. But given a particular phone call, there's a good chance that she won't be a problem for much longer. Especially once a certain person learns exactly what she's been up to."

"But is this going to happen in the next five minutes, the next hour, or the next week?" Taylor let her cynicism colour her voice. In her experience, when something was supposed to act to her benefit, it usually took its own sweet time. If it ever arrived.

Amy grinned wryly. "Probably not the next five minutes. Hopefully not the next week."

"Yeah, I -" Taylor paused as the geriatric PA system burbled to life.

"Will Panacea please report to the nurse's office. Will Panacea please report to the nurse's office."

They shared a glance. From Amy's expression, she didn't like the implications of that any more than Taylor did.

Taylor shrugged. "Do I come along, or just go to class?"

Amy grimaced. "If you come with me, there's a good chance that someone will draw the teacher's attention that you're not there. Thus getting you in trouble."

"Whereas," Taylor countered, "if I go to class, there's about a one hundred and fifty percent chance that Emma and her travelling bitchfest are going to try to get at me."

Amy held up her phone. "You think they'll succeed?"

Taylor wasn't in a smiling mood, but she showed her teeth anyway. "Not on their best fucking day." Reaching out, she took the phone. "Long Neck, yeah?"

"That's right." Amy gave her a slightly concerned look. "Are you sure about this? I did promise to stick close to you for the whole day, after all."

"You did, but they aren't gonna try anything if you're there." Taylor slid the phone into the sleeve of her hoodie. "Go on, get to the nurse's office."

"I'm going, I'm going." Amy turned and walked away, but not without a backward glance. That alone warmed Taylor's heart; while the argument had not been a pretty one, it had cleared the air a little, and she felt that she understood Amy a bit better now.

A couple of flies on the biokinetic's shoulders let the bug controller know which way Amy was going. Taylor assembled a small swarm to guide the girl directly to the nurse's office. For her part, she had to get to class. Or as close to class as Emma and her followers would let her.

<><>​

Nearly there. Taylor knew that she only had to go down this corridor, turn that corner and she would be almost at her destination. She had pretended not to notice the girls ducking out of view as she proceeded on her way. Emma's cronies, of course; Emma would never have done her own dirty work. With the bugs she had spread throughout the school, she knew where every one of them was, as well as the position of Emma herself. And there's Madison, and there's Sophia. Better hurry, girls. I might get away.

For a moment, she quickened her steps, tempted to do just that. She had each of her tormentors located to a nicety; it wouldn't be that much of a challenge to dance between the raindrops and show up in class anyway. The look on Emma's face would be amazing.

Reluctantly, she slowed down again. If we're going to nail them to the wall, we've got to nail them hard. Give them half a chance to create doubt, and they'll wriggle through the cracks.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. She had spent so much time working to avoid the bullies that deliberately walking into the trap seemed deeply wrong. Even if she wasn't the one who would ultimately be trapped. Okay, let's do this.

<><>​

For a moment, Sophia felt a shadow of doubt. This is almost too easy. It had almost seemed as though Hebert was on to them; if she had started moving any faster, or gone a different way, they would've had to hustle to catch up to her. But now she was coming straight to them. Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly.

She could hear the wimp's footsteps, on her way down the corridor. Left and right she glanced, checking that the others were still waiting on her signal. They were. Good. I'd hate to have to kick their asses afterward. That wasn't actually true; if they fucked up, she would positively enjoy kicking their asses. But she'd hate it if Taylor got away, after all the effort they'd gone into setting up this ambush.

Taylor rounded the corner; Sophia pulled the classroom door all the way open, and stepped out to bar her path. "Going somewhere, Hebert?"

The sad little queef fiddled with the cuffs of her hoodie. Sophia glanced sharply down – if this little cow manages to shank me, I'll never hear the end of it – but Hebert's hands were empty. She doesn't even have enough guts to bring a weapon to school. Hebert stepped back a pace, but the other girls were already crowding out of the classroom to surround her.

"Sophia." Taylor's voice was plaintive, weak. "Why can't you just leave me alone? I just want to get to class."

This was more emotion than Sophia had heard from her in months. Finally. We're getting to her. She bared her teeth in a predatory grin. "Are you telling me what to do, cunt? Are you giving me orders?"

Taylor stepped back again, but Emma was behind her. The redhead pushed her forward again, until she was nose to nose with Sophia. "N-no," whined Hebert. "I don't want any trouble. I just want to be left alone. I don't – I don't understand why you keep hurting me and taking my stuff and teasing me. I've done nothing to you, or Emma, or Madison, or Julia."

Sophia rolled her eyes. "We do it because you deserve it, you weak little piece of shit. Every day you walk in here, you insult the rest of us, because you just don't fucking belong."

"B-belong?" stammered Taylor. She stepped back again, only for Emma to shove her forward again more sharply. "Ow! Stop that, Emma!"

Almost casually, Sophia punched Taylor in the stomach. The skinny girl gagged and bent over forward, clutching at her midsection. Again, Sophia felt a faint shred of concern; Hebert's stomach muscles were a lot firmer than the last time she'd gut-punched her. Little douche-gargler thinks she can get stronger by working out. Not as strong as me. She grabbed Hebert's hair, twisting her fingers into the curls. The skinny cow's face twisted with pain as Sophia pulled her up into a semi-standing position.

"Belong," hissed Sophia. "As in, in this school. In this city. On this fucking planet. You don't deserve it." She drew back her fist to make her point.

"Careful," muttered Emma. "We don't want to leave marks on her."

Teeth gritted, Sophia conceded the point. Even that stupid twit the PRT had foisted on her as a minder would have to take notice if Taylor showed up with a black eye or broken nose. So she thumped the bitch in the gut again, but with less force than she'd used before. No sense in leaving visible bruising, after all.

Taylor still doubled up, or attempted to. Sophia's grip on her hair prevented her from bending too far, although she gagged so hard that Sophia thought she might throw up. If she does, I'll make her lick it up.

"In here," she ordered, indicating the empty classroom with a flick of her head. Leading the way, she pulled Hebert along via the handful of hair; the weakling cried out from the pain and nearly tripped, but managed to catch her balance anyway. The others followed; without being told to do so, Emma shut the door once they were all inside.

When she reached the clear space between the board and the desks, Sophia forced Taylor into a kneeling position. Tears of pain were clearly visible in the girl's eyes, while more ran down her cheeks. But she managed to hold back any more cries, which was a point to her. A small one in the grand scheme of things, but still it was a point.

Which was why Sophia had to erase that point and ensure that Taylor understood forever that her place was in the dirt, below anyone who wasn't actually a waste of space. She was still amazed that Hebert hadn't tried fighting back even once; not that it would have done any good, but the skinny bitch's arms were pulled together in front of her in a cringing attitude that made Sophia want to puke.

Standing alongside Taylor, Sophia glared down at her. "Look at her," she hissed. "She thinks she's a real human being. A real person."

"If she wanted to qualify as a ninety-pound weakling," Madison ventured, "she'd have to gain weight."

"Have you smelled her?" Julia put in with a vicious smile. "No boy would ever want to ask her out. He'd puke first."

Sophia thought that this was funny, but she could make it even better. "And then he'd ask the puke on a date instead of her." The laughter from the others buoyed her up, affirming her position of strength.

"Em-Emma," croaked Taylor. "You … you won't get away with this."

Emma leaned over her. "And why is that, Taylor? Why do you think I won't get away with it? I always do. I always will."

Taylor coughed painfully. "The meeting," she rasped. "I'll tell them everything that happened here."

The cruel laughter started with Emma, then spread to the others. "Without your little snitch here to back you up, it's going to be like it's always been." She clasped her hands in front of her heart and fluttered her eyelashes. "Oh, no, Principal Blackwell. I have no idea why poor, deluded Taylor has spread yet another wicked story about me. But as you can see, all my friends say it's not true."

"I'll … I'll tell my dad anyway. He's got a friend in the media. We can tell them what you've been doing."

Not if I've got anything to do with it, Sophia decided viciously.

Madison looked at Taylor uncertainly. "She's lying, right?"

"No, she's not lying." Emma's voice was confident. "Her father knows the guy who runs WBB-FM here in the city. But who listens to the radio any more, right?"

"Enough people do." Taylor's voice was a mumble. "People will hear what you've done."

Emma stepped in front of Taylor, then grabbed her t-shirt. She twisted the neck of the shirt so that it cut off Taylor's air supply. Sophia approved, although she thought Emma's technique could do with improvement. While Taylor gagged and gasped for breath, Sophia shook her head in disgust. Still not fighting back, you weakling.

Emma leaned in close to Taylor. Her voice was just loud enough for Sophia to hear. "If just one person hears one bad thing about me, my dad will sue your dad for everything."

Taylor gurgled something; Sophia caught Emma's eye and shook her head fractionally. Obediently, Emma let up on the pressure. Air rasped down Taylor's throat. After a moment, she managed to reply. "So sue. I've got notes. We'll win."

Think you're strong, huh? Sophia pursed her lips slightly. In response, Emma tightened the grip again. She shook her head with a triumphant smile. "No. We will. Because even if we lose the case, my dad will just appeal it. You can win it a hundred times. We've got more money. Dad explained this to me. We'll just keep appealing until you run out of money, and then we. Fucking. Win." Emma released the pressure on Taylor's throat, and spat in her face. "You. Fucking. Lose."

Sophia restrained herself from nodding in approval; Emma was really showing her strength now. She wasn't as strong as Sophia, of course, but the promise was there.

Hebert hunched in on herself, shoulders heaving as she fought for breath. Sophia couldn't tell through the hair hanging down the skinny wimp's face, but she was probably crying. Madison thought so too. "Look. She's bawling like a baby. Whassamatter, babykins? Lose your favourite toy?"

"No," Julia said. "She needs her diaper changed. Pee-yew."

Emma showed her teeth in a smile, displaying her strength. "No. She's just crying for her mommy. Are you going to cry for a week straight, Taylor? Like you did the last time?"

Taylor straightened up a little at that one. I think that scored. Gonna have to remember that one. Sophia tensed in case she managed to show some sort of fight after all. But all she did was shake her hair out of her eyes and look at Emma. "Why?" she asked – no, whimpered. "Why did you turn on me? Why are you using things I told you against me? Why didn't you get my flute back when Sophia stole it?"

Ahh, the flute. Sophia still had fond memories of that one.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Taylor," Emma spat. "Don't you fucking get it yet? How long does it take to beat it into your thick fucking skull? I'm over you. I outgrew you in middle school. You're yesterday's news. Why do I do what I do? Because I fucking can. Because you deserve it. Like I told you before, you're the one who was stupid enough to bring the flute to school. You deserved to lose it." She shook her head. "Christ, you're fucking stupid."

"And weak," Sophia put in, just in case anyone had forgotten the most important part.

"And she's a whore," added a girl whose name Sophia had never bothered learning. "I hear she gives head for a dollar a shot after school."

"I heard that too," said Mandy someone or other. "Except I heard that she has to pay them."

The group broke into cruel laughter once more. "I got one," tittered Madison. "I heard she tried to sell herself to the Merchants for drugs, and they turned her down!"

That one wasn't bad. Sophia chuckled a little, giving the petite girl props for effort. "Not that she could use them," she added. "After all, you've got to find a vein before you can inject. Hebert doesn't have arms, she has twigs. And twigs don't have veins."

Julia was just opening her mouth to offer another joke when the door opened. Sophia looked around hastily. "Wrong room!" she snapped. "Fuck off!"

Amy Dallon stepped into the room. "No, I don't think so," she observed mildly. "Pretty sure I'm in the right place. How you doing, Taylor?"

Sophia shared a startled glance with Emma. She wasn't sure what was going through the redhead's mind, but for her it was the question how the fuck did she find us? She gestured with her head; taking the hint, Emma moved toward the door to block Panacea's view of what was going on. At the same time, Sophia let go of Taylor's hair and stepped back.

"Taylor's having a bit of a mental break," Emma said in a sugary sweet tone that Sophia wasn't at all sure that she could ever duplicate. "We're just trying to help her get over it."

Taylor coughed, then climbed to her feet and turned to Amy. "I'm doing okay, now. Good to see you. What was the emergency?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Well, it seems that two of our dumber gang members each heard rumours that the other was dissing him behind his back. So they went and kicked each others' asses. I'm just glad they didn't use knives." She moved past Emma and approached Taylor.

The fuck? They're just talking. Why the hell isn't Hebert blabbing, or Dallon shouting at us? Sophia met Emma's eyes; the other girl looked just as confused.

Apparently ignoring the fact that she was the focus of every eye in the room, Amy held out her hand. "You got it?"

"Right here." Before Sophia's disbelieving eyes, Taylor slid a smartphone out of her sleeve and handed it over to Panacea. "Thanks for letting me borrow it."

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. That's why she wasn't fighting back. Sophia began to get a really bad feeling about this.

"Hey, no probs." Amy tapped an icon on the phone. "So, did you get all that?"

Fuuuuuck.

The voice that came out of the speaker was clearly audible to the whole room. It was an older man, with the rasp that came from smoking a pack a day. "Sure thing. Sound quality's pretty good too. By the time I clean it up, they'll be able to catch every whisper, every word. Nicely done, kid."

"No," said Taylor. "Thank you. Were you listening?"

"Like I said, every word. You gonna nail those little shits' hides to the wall?"

"That's the plan," Panacea said lightly. "Talk to you later – Long Neck."

"Hah. Girlie, for one thing, you got the reference the wrong way around. And for the other, I ain't no Woodward and Bernstein. Anyway, gotta go. Say hi to Danny for me, kid."

"I'll do that. And thanks again." But Hebert was talking to dead air; the call had ended.

Sophia stared at the two girls, an incandescent rage building inside her. "You fucking recorded us? You spineless -"

Taylor laughed in her face. "No. I warned you. Remember? My dad knows someone in the media. I told you to your fucking face and you didn't listen. You're fucked, Sophia. You lose."

Sophia, fully aware of what could happen if she started something with Panacea in the room, had been holding her temper in check. But that last word was the final straw. I. Don't. Lose.

A red film dropped over her eyes and the world became fury, until all she could see was Hebert. The epitome of all that was wrong in the world, standing right in front of her, and she was going down. Fists clenched, Sophia surged forward. Vaguely, she heard Emma shouting something in the background, but she didn't care any more. Sophia's knuckles slammed into Hebert's mouth, splitting the skank's lips, spinning her around and dropping her to the ground.

Hands grasped at her left arm; she yanked it free and delivered a sharp backfist, all without taking her eyes off the prize. Nobody fucks with me. Her knuckles crunched on someone's face. Serves you right for getting in my fucking way. Launching herself forward, she brought her knees down on Hebert's ribs and swung a fist at her face -

Her left arm went dead, falling to her side. Unbalanced by the momentum of her swing, she fell sideways, feeling the numbness spreading throughout her body.

What the …

Collapsing bonelessly on the ground, she turned her head just far enough to see Panacea cupping a bloodied hand over her own face, her eyes sharp with satisfaction.

… fu



End of Part Nineteen

Part Twenty