I'm HALPING!
Part Five: Eclectic Boogaloo
[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
I grinned at Zach. The Boardwalk sounded great, right at that moment.
"Love to." With that settled, I turned to Miss Militia. "So, are you still okay with … wait, what's going on over there?" 'Over there' was where I could hear shouted orders and the honking of a car horn. A somewhat
familiar-sounding horn.
"I don't know." With a very large revolver suddenly filling her right hand, Miss Militia turned toward the disturbance. "Stay here. I'll check it out." Holding the pistol low at her side, she moved in that direction.
The horn sounded again, and I tilted my head. "You know something? That sounds like Dad's car. He must've seen what was happening on the news and come home to see what's going on. What do you think?" Zach was easy to talk to. He actually
listened to what I was saying, and said what I needed to hear, rather than what he thought I wanted to hear.
"I think that if you think it is your father's car, you may very well be correct. It would make sense for him to be concerned about your welfare. I have not yet met him. I would like to do so." He gestured in the direction that Miss Militia had gone. "Shall we go and see if it is him?"
Pretending to consider the question, I rubbed my chin. "Well, she
did tell us to stay here for our own protection …" While my words said one thing, my tone said quite another.
Hell yes, I want to see. This wasn't just me being contrary; I wanted to see how well Zach picked up on nonverbal cues.
"There is nothing in the immediate vicinity that can harm you in a way that I cannot prevent." His voice was firm. "You will be no less safe over there than you are right here." His tone held no bravado. As always, this was just Zach stating a plain fact.
I also noted that he made no mention about 'if they let us through'. It seemed that the only person whom Zach considered worth listening to was me. Which was, I couldn't deny, a little bit of a rush. I wasn't quite sure
how he pulled off the stuff he did, but he'd kept me perfectly safe since we met, and that was good enough for me. Also, throwing a van fifteen hundred miles to turn Jack Slash into street pizza? That, on its own, was
way cool.
"Thank you, Zach." Linking my arm through his, I grinned up at him. "I think that's a great idea." Suiting action to word, we headed for the bunch of PRT soldiers who'd gathered around the car. I noticed that Zach was making sure to keep just a little ahead of me, which I didn't mind at all. A deeply cynical part of my mind noted how people got out of his way with some alacrity when he asked them to, whereas I would've had to step around them. Of course, he was fairly polite about it, which was good; after all, I figured that some of these people were in need of a reminder that manners were important. He'd even been nice about asking that Commander Calvert guy to clean up the mess they made when they busted their way into the house. Which he totally didn't have to be, but it seemed to be Zach's standard operating procedure, and who was I to argue with that? I decided that I needed more friends like him.
I wonder if he'd introduce me to his family. They sound interesting.
When we got closer, I began to hear the sound of an ongoing argument. On the one side, there was a PRT soldier telling someone that they couldn't drive down the street, but on the other … "Zach," I said. "That's my dad. I can hear him." It was Dad all right, insisting that he lived in that house right there and let him through so he could see his daughter, dammit!
"Dad!" I called out. "I'm right here! I'm all right!" All the soldiers in front of us turned to look as I stepped up beside Zach, confident that nobody would mess with me while I was with him.
To my secret amusement, from inside the helmet of the nearest guy, I heard a faint voice saying, "Oh, shit. Back off, guys." Even before whoever it was finished speaking, they'd collectively taken a step away from us. The ones who were up against the car moved sideways instead, but every helmet faceplate was directed straight at the teenage boy by my side. Nobody raised a gun or even looked like they were reaching for one; in fact, they seemed to be taking great pains in making it obvious that they weren't making any hostile moves.
"Thank you." Zach was smiling as he said it. Of course, he'd been smiling exactly the same way when he picked up the van and threw it. I was pretty sure that
nobody there mistook his friendliness for weakness. "Please move away from the car. Taylor wishes to speak with her father." He stepped forward with me beside him, and the area cleared so fast that I wondered if some of the troopers didn't have secret Mover ratings. I got the distinct impression that they didn't want to see if he'd really try to hit Director Piggot's office window from here with one of them. Not that I thought he would, unless someone did something
really stupid, but the possibility was there.
"Taylor." Miss Militia was the closest person to us now, and even she was taking care to maintain her distance. The massive revolver had become a baton tucked into her belt. "I thought I told you to keep back." The frustration in her voice was echoed in the creases around her eyes. I thought about ignoring her but she'd been polite to me, so I decided to return the favour.
"Nope." I gave her a grin. "You
asked me to keep back, but I decided not to do it. Anyway, it's only Dad." I gave her a little wave. "I'll let you know if we need anything, thanks." As I turned back to the car, I wondered if I'd been a little abrupt, but she
had pointed that damn great taser at me, so fair was fair.
"Taylor?" This time it was Dad, just now getting out of the driver's seat of the car. "Are you all right? The news-" He didn't get any further, because I threw my arms around him and hung on as tightly as I could. I felt his arms wrap around me in a hug that I never wanted to end.
"Don't worry about me, Dad." My voice was muffled against his chest, but I didn't care. "Are you okay? They were getting pretty rude to you, there."
"Yeah, I'm fine." He squeezed me tightly enough to make my ribs creak—I did my best to return the favour—then he held me at arms' length. "I'm worried about
you. I saw on the news that some supervillain had holed up in the house with you as a hostage, so I came right over." I could hear the echo of fear in his voice, but the tension in his body was leaching out, second by second. "Is it over? Did they get the guy?"
I giggled and pulled far enough back so he could see as I rolled my eyes. "Dad, no. Zach's not a supervillain. He's a regular kid, just like me." After a moment, I decided to amend that. "Well,
almost like me." Turning, I beckoned to Zach. "Come on, I want you to meet my Dad." As Zach came around the car—I was glad he didn't just shove it aside, because Dad might take that badly—I looked from one to the other.
I really hope Dad likes him.
Stepping up beside me, Zach gave Dad a look of interest, then held out his hand. "How do you do, Mr Hebert? My name is Zachary, but you may call me Zach. I am here to protect your daughter from all harm and to ensure her happiness. I hope this meets with your approval?" Sincerity rang through every syllable; when Zach decided do something, he went right ahead and
did it. It was one of the many things I appreciated about him. I also enjoyed his up-front honesty about everything, such as the way he'd always told me the exact truth about himself. Well, except when he told me that joke about being an Endbringer. That had been
hilarious.
Dad blinked and shook the proffered hand in a dazed fashion. "Well, I'm her father. Of
course it meets with my approval. But how do you intend to do that? Brockton Bay is a dangerous place, after all. And what's this about a supervillain?" He put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed gently; I leaned into him.
His concern was obvious, but of course misplaced. I chuckled and shook my head. "Oh, Dad. Zach's not a
villain. He saved me from the bullies in school, and hurt a couple of them in the process, so someone called the PRT." I sighed and rolled my eyes again. "Totally over-reacting, if you ask me."
Dad frowned. "He …
hurt … them?" His eyes went to Zach—to be fair, Zach's muscles had muscles on them, but he was no Manpower—and then to the PRT soldiers, all of whom were still giving us a conspicuously wide berth. "How badly, and why isn't he under arrest? I mean, I know how this goes." He paused for a second. "And why is the
PRT involved? Young man, are you a parahuman?"
"No, sir." Zach shook his head firmly. "I am not a parahuman. I am just very good at what I do." Which was so obviously true that it wasn't even up for debate. Dad still looked puzzled, so Zach elaborated. "When the three girls locked Taylor in her locker with the smelly waste, I went to let her out. The girls got in my way, so I put them out of my way without killing them. Then I opened up the locker and took Taylor to get cleaned up and to have something to eat. Because food is good for shock." The way he told it made it sound almost innocent, like
anyone could have done it.
"I don't think they were hurt too badly," I added. "I mean, Zach didn't kill them. That's good, right?" I wasn't overly worried about anyone coming after Zach for hurting Emma and her friends. The problem was that if they kept trying to arrest him, he'd probably end up injuring some of them sooner or later, and I didn't want that either.
Dad frowned. "Killing is never good." His expression was dubious as he looked at Zach. "The fact that you're even
talking about killing people is worrisome. You're what, sixteen?" There was a certain tone in his voice that I'd never heard before. After a moment, I had it figured out from context:
no boy is good enough for my daughter.
"Taylor has said that she will be unhappy if I kill people," Zach said. "I do not want to make her unhappy. I am glad that she let me make an exception for the Slaughterhouse Nine, though." His voice was just as cheerful and polite as ever. It may have seemed incongruous, except that Zach always spoke in that fashion. He never actually seemed to get angry; or at least, not in any way I could really make out.
"The … Slaughterhouse Nine?" Dad blinked, then swung to look at me. "What … Taylor, what's he
talking about?" His expression of bewilderment almost made me giggle. The impulse grew stronger when I imagined his reaction to being told about it.
"Uh, it happened just before you got here." I pointed into the sky, toward the southwest. "While you were on the way, did you hear a couple of really loud booms, from that direction?" The TV news probably hadn't made the radio, I guessed. However Dad had gotten the news about the house being surrounded, he'd left it to come here, so he knew nothing about the ongoing situation.
"Yes." Now he was looking even more dubious. "I figured it was some sort of cape shenanigans. Probably someone breaking the sound barrier inside city limits." He folded his arms and gave Zach a hard stare. I had to admire his fortitude, under the circumstances. But then again, he'd grown up in Brockton Bay and lived through a
previous visit of the Nine to the city. "Did you have something to do with that?"
"Yes, sir." Zach's reply was prompt and up front. "The Slaughterhouse Nine were a clear and present danger to Taylor's happiness and physical welfare, so I decided to remove them from consideration. It was not hard to find items of sufficient mass with which to accomplish this. My sister assisted me with targeting, and my oldest brother helped achieve a suitable kinetic event upon impact. The Slaughterhouse Nine were destroyed, and no innocents were hurt. Unfortunately, several people were badly frightened, but they were not harmed, so I am satisfied with how it turned out." He sounded very pleased with himself. I didn't blame him for feeling that way; I thought it was kind of awesome myself. He'd destroyed the Slaughterhouse Nine just to make
me happy!
I'd like to see any other girl get a present like that from a guy friend. Though now I wanted to hear more about his sister and brothers.
Dad rubbed at his forehead with thumb and forefinger, as if to ward off an impending headache. "I'm probably going to regret asking this, but …. what 'objects of sufficient mass' are you talking about, exactly, here?" He was taking this better than I'd feared, but we still weren't out of the woods yet. Some people seemed to have more trouble than others when it came to accepting what Zach could do. "And you have a brother and a sister? Uh, are they here?"
I decided to help Zach out. "Uh, he threw a PRT van and the pole from that street sign there." I indicated the ragged hole in the pavement, with the torn-off sign lying forlornly nearby. "He did ask me if it was okay first." It wasn't as though he'd just picked the van up and tossed it without making sure that there was nobody inside first. And Armsmaster wasn't even angry about it, which meant that it was okay. Didn't it? "And I haven't met his brother or sister yet. I'm looking forward to it, though."
My answer didn't seem to make Dad much happier. "And he's not even a parahuman," he muttered. "I swear, the world is getting stranger every day." He took a deep breath, then let it out in a sigh. "And you're certain you killed the Nine?" The question was directed toward Zach. Not even Dad, it seemed, had a problem with killing when the victims in question were the Nine.
"Oh, yes." Zach's expression was guileless. "My first strike eliminated the Siberian. The rest died either in the second strike or shortly afterward. It was actually easier than it sounds. There were no innocents nearby to avoid. Even though I had to go kind of close to an airliner and really close to a helicopter, nobody got hurt." For which I would be eternally grateful. I didn't know what would be worse; knowing that Zach had killed innocents in the process of taking out the Nine, or knowing that he'd spared them to save innocents.
"Well, that's good, I suppose." Dad managed to muster a crooked half-smile. "But why are they being so standoffish about it? Not crowding around and offering congratulations?" His gesture took in the PRT soldiers and Protectorate capes who were still watching us cautiously. Miss Militia was closer than most, but she kept her hand protectively on the baton in her belt.
I didn't work very hard to hold back from smirking. "Uh, that's because Assault tried to stop us from leaving the school. Zach kinda had to … smack some sense into him." My smirk became a chuckle, which segued into helpless laughter as my sides began to heave and tears came to my eyes. After all, it
was funny as hell.
Another frown came over Dad's face as he scanned the area. "Assault tried to stop you? Where is he?" I wasn't sure whether Dad wanted to ask Assault what had happened, or tell him off for getting in my way. Either way, he was out of luck.
"Assault is unharmed." Zach came to the rescue, mainly because I was physically incapable of coherent speech right then. "He landed in the Charles River, in Boston, after I caromed him off the Protectorate Base force field." Even helpless with laughter, I had to admire the aplomb with which he delivered lines like that.
However, Dad seemed to be recovering from his initial shock fairly well. "The Charles River, huh? Good aim." He looked Zach up and down. "You said you're good at what you do. What
is that, exactly?" As I recovered from my fit of laughter, I decided I was very impressed with Dad. He'd obviously accepted the idea of Zach being able to take out the Nine from half the country away. And if Zach could do
that, smacking Assault into the next state was no big deal.
"Protecting Taylor, sir." Zach's tone was straightforward. "Helping her, and making sure that she does not become unhappy. It is what I am here to do."
"I … see." Dad appeared to be more than a little bemused. "So you consider that to be your job now?" He looked from Zach to me and back again. "I mean, not that I disapprove as such given what you've already done for Taylor, but don't you have a life? Friends? Family? School, even?"
"Taylor is my friend." Zach's voice was firm. "My family knows what I am doing. I will be attending school with Taylor, to make sure that nobody attempts to hurt her." He gave me a smile. "Do not worry, Taylor. I will try not to hurt anyone."
"Well, if they keep trying after what happened to Emma and her friends, they deserve whatever happens to them." I didn't realise what I'd said until I saw Dad's eyes widen.
Oh, shit. I never told him it was happening, or that Emma was behind it. My mind raced, trying to figure out what to say next. Alan Barnes was a good friend of Dad's, but he was also a lawyer. If Mr Barnes decided that I had something to do with Emma getting hurt …
"Taylor." Dad's voice was calm and controlled. "Is there another Emma at Winslow I should know about? And what do you mean, 'after what happened to them'?" No longer bemused, his whole attitude was laser-focused on what I'd just said. I wasn't scared of him—I'd never be scared of Dad—but I knew that I wasn't going to get out of this without telling him what he wanted to know.
"No," I admitted unhappily. "I've been getting bullied at school, a lot. Mainly, it's been Emma and a few of her friends. She … after I came back from summer camp, she'd changed. New hairstyle, new friends. She didn't want to know me. But it got worse, after we went to Winslow. It was like she wanted to destroy every good memory we had together." I blinked, realising that what I'd just said fitted in with Emma's actions almost perfectly. The big question was
why, of course, but that could wait till later. For now, I was too taken up with the realisation that what I'd thought was a throwaway line had hit the mark dead centre. "Holy shit," I muttered. "It really was."
Dad's face had set in hard lines. "I'm gonna need to talk to Alan," he said. I figured he was thinking out loud, rather than speaking to me. "If Emma's been pulling shit like that, I need to talk to him as soon as damn possible." His fists clenched, but I wasn't sure if he was aware of this. I knew he had a temper, but I also knew that he kept it under control. "Taylor." His attention was abruptly back on me. "Why didn't you
tell me?"
"At first I thought it was just a thing," I confessed. "I mean, I still saw Emma as a friend, then. I figured maybe she was being a bit mean to look good to her other friends, but she'd get tired of it and move on." My voice trailed off as I recalled how she'd proven over and over that she wasn't getting tired of it. The taunting, the escalating incidents, one thing piled on another until I was almost suffocating under the burden.
"But she didn't." Dad didn't phrase it as a question. I could see the whiteness of the skin over his knuckles. Even if he was trying not to show it, he was majorly pissed right now.
I shook my head briefly, almost redundantly. "No. She didn't." I couldn't recall exactly when I had realised that no matter what I wanted to think, Emma was no longer my friend. Or, for that matter, exactly when I had begun to hate and fear her.
"I'm pulling you out of Winslow," he said abruptly. "Whatever else happens, I'm not letting you stay in that shithole of a school for one second longer than necessary. If she can get away with picking on you for that long and not one goddamn teacher does a thing about it, it says to me that something's seriously wrong." He looked like he wanted to punch someone; had Blackwell or even Gladly been in the vicinity right then, I suspected he'd have done just that. As much as we didn't need a lawsuit on top of everything else, I couldn't quite convince myself that I wouldn't watch with a certain amount of glee.
"I'm fine with that." I gave him a beaming smile to prove it. "Of course, they'll just have to accept that Zach comes along with the deal. Won't they, Zach?" As far as I was concerned, it was a done deal. The Brockton Bay educational system had failed me utterly and completely; I'd had enough of projects ruined and teachers looking past what was being done to me. Zach was the only person to ever step up and do something about it, so wherever I went, he came too. Assuming, of course, he was on board with that.
"Of course they will, Taylor." His steady smile reassured me, not that I'd ever had much of a doubt in the matter. "I can be a good student. I learn quickly." There was no boastfulness or swagger in his tone. All I heard was a rock-solid certainty that he could do the work. Which, considering that he'd learned how to tell jokes in the short time I'd known him, I wasn't about to doubt.
"I'm willing to give it a damn good try." Dad's voice was firm. "In the meantime …" His voice trailed off as he stared at the house. "What the hell's going on? What
happened?" I didn't have to look too far to figure out what he was referring to; as we watched, a PRT soldier emerged from the house and came down the front steps. Not just any PRT soldier, either; from the height and build, this was Commander Calvert himself. He was carrying what looked like a cardboard box. It might even have been the one that had been sitting beside the trash can in the kitchen, waiting to get thrown out. He began to descend the front steps, and I realised all too late that he didn't know the bottom one was almost rotted through.
"Oh, shit," I muttered, my eyes going wide. "He's going to -"
It happened almost in slow motion. Dad and I usually went into the house via the back stairs; if I used the front door at all, I made sure to step over that one tread. It was just one more job that Dad was going to do once he got the time. Unfortunately, in this particular instance, time had run out. Calvert wasn't the heaviest of men, but the weight of the armour and other gear he was wearing made all the difference; as his boot came down on the step, there was a rending
crack, and his foot just kept on going down. Given the fact that the rest of him was travelling forward at the time, this was likely to be problematic.
'Problematic', in this case, meant that Commander Calvert ended up sprawled face-down, with the cardboard box upended before him. From it, broken glass was strewn far and wide on the path before him, almost all the way out to the sidewalk. Dad and I stared as the spilled glass twinkled in the sunlight.
"Well," I said, not really able to tear my eyes from the scene. "Shit."
Dad was made of sterner stuff. "Okay, two questions. Three. Why were the PRT in my damn house? Why was someone taking broken glass
out of my house? And who's going to pay for my damn front step?" I had to admire his moxie; in less than twenty seconds, he'd gone from puzzlement to being on the attack. And it didn't matter that we both knew the step had been rotten for quite some time; the PRT had broken the step, so it was on them.
I glanced around and found Armsmaster, who was watching us. Or rather, while I couldn't see his eyes, I was certain he was watching Zach, who was standing alongside me, observing the show with that same cheerful smile. Trying not to grin too broadly, I raised my hand and beckoned the armoured hero over. While I would've preferred to work with Miss Militia, Armsmaster
was the ranking Protectorate hero, so I supposed he'd be the one to talk to under these circumstances.
Before he approached us, Armsmaster folded and racked his halberd, possibly to reduce the chance of Zach taking it from his hands. I couldn't see all that much of his face, but he wasn't smiling as he came over. Then again, I didn't really blame him for being pissed. "Can I help you, Miss Hebert?" he asked brusquely.
"You can help my dad," I said cheerfully. "Care to explain why the PRT is carting broken glass out the front door, and who's gonna be paying for that step?" I knew I was tweaking him, hard. Zach's presence beside me would prevent any retaliation, and getting a little petty payback was fun as
fuck. His helmet twitched sideways, as if he were shooting a sharp glance at me. Unfortunately for his intimidation factor, I couldn't see his eyes. I smiled blandly back at him, pretending obliviousness.
After a moment, he turned his helmet toward Dad. It sounded as though his words were being dragged from him; one kicking, screaming syllable at a time. "When we initially thought that uh, Zachary was holding your daughter hostage in the house, the PRT staged a dynamic entry to capture him. In the process, several windows were broken. Your daughter has since prevailed upon the strike team commander to clean up the mess he made." He stopped speaking, his jaw tightening. I would've let it go after that, except that he'd missed something out.
"And the step?" I asked sweetly. "We all saw it. Commander Calvert broke it. Who pays?" I was being a little unfair on Armsmaster, but then again, the entire Protectorate had been massively unfair to Zach, right up until the point where he took out the Slaughterhouse Nine for them. Well, for
me, but they got to reap the benefits.
He took a deep breath and spoke rapidly. "That step gave way too easily -"
"Uh, uh." I held up a finger, and Zach moved forward half a step. That was all it took to shut Armsmaster up. "Care to go again?"
"I really do think that it is only fair that the Protectorate reimburses Taylor and her father for the cost of the broken step, and the windows that the soldiers broke." Zach could've been commenting on the weather for all the force he put into the statement, but Armsmaster flinched anyway. By now, Calvert had gotten up and was brushing himself off. I hoped that there would be footage of his pratfall online at some point.
"It's not my call," Armsmaster said reluctantly, then seemed to brighten. "However, once the reward money for the Nine clears, there'll be more than enough -"
"Nope." Belatedly, I realised that I'd interrupted him twice in thirty seconds.
Ah, fuck it. You only live once. "You guys broke it, you guys pay for it. Whatever reward Zach's earned goes to him. How much is it, anyway?" In retrospect, asking that question was a mistake. After all, I knew the Nine had been racking up a body count—and a bounty—for longer than I'd been alive. I just didn't register exactly what that meant until Armsmaster spoke.
Which he did. "The reward adds up to thirty-four point one million dollars -"
My world wavered. I shook my head, blinking hard. "Excuse me,
what again?"
Thirty-four … thirty-four point … thirty-four point one … My brain had trouble encompassing the whole number, especially the world 'million' at the end. It was outside all my experience. I'd never seen a million of
anything. "That's what Zach gets for … for taking out the Nine?"
Holy crap.
With a vague sense of relief, I became aware that he was shaking his head. "No," he said. "You didn't let me finish. That's just the reward for Jack Slash. It appears that there were a lot of people who really wanted him dead." There was no amusement in his tone, or even any self-satisfaction. He was just relating facts to me. "The rest of the Nine, not having been active for as long, adds up to another sixty-five point three million dollars. Ninety-nine point four million in total." Yeah, just relating facts. Some damn facts.
The world went fuzzy, and I swayed again. I found that I could, in fact, imagine ninety-nine point four million dollars; I just couldn't imagine it going to someone I
knew. To my relief, I felt Zach's arms steadying me.
He didn't seem to be fazed in the slightest. Dad, on the other hand, was leaning kind of hard on the car. "That's nearly a hundred million dollars!" I blurted. "Holy shit, is Zach worth nearly
a hundred million dollars now?"
And all for tossing a van fifteen hundred miles That's sixty thousand dollars per mile. Can you get frequent flyer points for that? I wanted to giggle, but I stopped myself in case I broke down into hysterical laughter.
"That would be the case, yes." Armsmaster nodded soberly. He hadn't even cracked a smile. "The money is being held in escrow. Due to the nature of most bounty claimants, it can be transferred on to a card which, uh, Zachary, can then use to move the funds into whatever banking arrangement he uses, outside of our purview." Most of that went over my head, due partly to my current state of sheer bogglement over how much money Zach now had to play with right now. "All he has to do is wait until the deaths are independently verified, then come in to the PRT building and claim the reward."
The confusion was beginning to clear from my brain at this point, to be immediately replaced by suspicion. "Uh, wait a minute. You guys still want to arrest him. What's stopping you from just grabbing him when he comes in to pick up his card?" I gave Armsmaster a hard stare.
I'm on to you.
Now he cracked a smile, or at least one corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Miss Hebert, I am not at all certain that we have anything that
can contain your friend, at least not on hand. Nor are we likely to start a fight with a cape of his versatility
inside the PRT building. And last, but most important, anyone picking up the reward for a kill order is automatically under truce while that's happening." His voice conveyed a matter of fact tone which reassured me more than any number of promises on bended knee. I didn't
like Armsmaster, but I didn't think he could lie all that easily.
Dad slapped Zachary on the shoulder. "Well done, kid. You're now independently wealthy." And wasn't
that the understatement of the year. "How's that feel?" To his credit, all I heard in his voice was genuine admiration.
"I do not know, Mr Hebert," Zach replied. With anyone else, I would've decided that they were putting on an act for sure. After all, who wouldn't go gaga over the
idea of getting ninety-nine-point-something
million dollars? But this was Zach's way; I didn't think for an instant that he was acting. To be honest, I didn't think he knew
how to act. "I have never had money before. I do not need money." He turned to me. "Taylor, I am giving this money to you."
My ears rang, and I became aware that my jaw was hanging open. "I … wha …
bwah?" The largest monetary gift I'd ever gotten (apart from my allowance, from Dad) was a fifty that Mr Barnes had slipped to me for my thirteenth birthday. Zach had just offered to make me a millionaire … nearly a hundred times over.
How do I even react to that? "Zach … you can't. I can't take that." Seconds after the words were out of my mouth, my brain rebelled.
No, not that way. The correct answer was 'Yes, please.' You idiot. But I'd said it, and I couldn't take it back.
He stared at me, apparently puzzled. "Taylor does it not make you happy to have money? I want to make you happy." I felt a huge twinge of guilt at the look in his eyes. He'd had something that he wanted to give to me, and I'd thrown it back in his face. Did he think he'd hurt my feelings?
"No, no, it's not that," I hastened to explain, ruthlessly booting my brain into gear. "It's just that … it's very sweet, Zach, but I'm
fifteen. I'm
far too young to be responsible for that sort of money."
I'm throwing away a hundred million dollars … My brain gibbered for a bit before I wrenched it back on track. "Thank you for offering, though. I really appreciate it." Putting my arms around him, I hugged him as tightly as I knew how. "It's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."
I felt the comforting pressure of his arms as he hugged me back. "I think I understand, Taylor." It was just typical. We were having a special moment, and he was still talking. To be honest, I couldn't really blame him; he was just a teensy bit oblivious when it came to things like that.
Armsmaster cleared his throat. "If you truly do not need the money …" I heard a muffled
clunk; when I looked over, Miss Militia was rubbing her elbow and glaring up at the armoured hero. "I was going to say, we could put it into a trust fund to be administered for you," he concluded hastily.
"I have a better idea." Zach sounded happy once more. "I do not need a trust fund, so I will give it to Taylor's father. He is old enough to be responsible with it. And with it, he can buy Taylor nice things."
I was still hugging him, so I had to pull back to look at his face. The smile on his face didn't tell me much, but we hadn't covered 'psych!' yet in jokes, so it probably wasn't a prank. Besides, I strongly doubted that he'd do something as mean-spirited as that. Then I turned to look at Dad's face, just as the full realisation of what Zach had said sank home. I would forever regret not having a camera handy; he looked even more stunned than when Armsmaster had revealed the size of the reward.
"You're … giving it to
me?" His voice rose at the end. "Just like that? A hundred million dollars?" He swayed on his feet, then reached out to steady himself on the car. "I—I don't know what to say." I wasn't sure what I could see in his eyes. Disbelief, for certain. Also, what looked a little like panic. I couldn't blame him. Having this sort of thing dumped on you out of the blue was amazingly like being deluged with ice water from nowhere. I knew exactly what
that felt like, courtesy of Emma and Sophia, and it was never pleasant.
"Say
yes, Dad," I urged him. "We can sort it all out later. Or give it back, if you want. Or, you know, get the ferry running again."
That got his attention. For years, he'd been doing his best to help keep the Dockworkers Association running on a shoestring budget. Now, with a hundred million to play with, he had so many more
options. I saw his focus sharpen as he stared at Zach.
"You mean it?" His voice was firm, every word radiating purpose. "You'll give this money to me? You're
certain about it?" He was in control of himself once more, on top of the situation.
"Yes, sir." Zach was equally serious. "I do not need money. I know that you will be able to use it wisely." He looked at me. "Is that good, Taylor?" His expression was earnest, as if he honestly needed me to tell him the right thing to do.
Then again, he has no problem with killing people, so maybe it's a good idea that I'm here to tell him what to do. "It's good," I assured him. "You did a really good thing here. Twice, even. And I'm sure that if you
do ever need anything, Dad'll buy it for you." I looked over at Armsmaster. "Your helmet's recording everything, isn't it?" Given Armsmaster's reputation as Brockton Bay's premier Tinker, I would've been astonished if it
wasn't.
He hesitated for only a moment. "Yes, Miss Hebert. Sound and video both. Why?" But I could tell from the tone of his voice that he'd already worked out the answer to that question. "You want me to be a witness if necessary." Well, nobody ever said he was
stupid. A dick, yes. Stupid, no.
"You and Miss Militia both." I looked from him to the flag-adorned woman. "You're both reputable heroes. If anyone wants to query Zach giving Dad that money, I expect you to set them straight. I don't want Dad getting in trouble just because Zach felt like being nice." Not that I really thought that was going to happen—after all, who in his right mind would consider Dad being able to force Zach into doing
anything?—but I was fully aware that there were many mean-spirited people in the world, and the lure of a hundred million dollars was a huge temptation.
"If anyone says that I may not give Mr Hebert the money, then I will explain that they are wrong." Zach's tone was deceptively calm. "The only person who can tell me not to do something is Taylor. Did you record that, Armsmaster?" He was now looking at the Tinker with his usual smile.
"It's on record." Armsmaster's voice was matter of fact. "Do you mind if I ask you a question about that?" His posture and tone were still guarded, but I also heard curiosity there. Miss Militia looked a little wary, as if worried about what he might say.
"I do not mind if you ask questions." Zach's expression was as open and friendly as his voice. "If I do not know the answer, I can not answer it. If I do not like the question, I will not answer it." As he spoke, I leaned against him and put my arm around his waist in silent support. Facing off against two superheroes was kind of a unique experience for me. Or, at least it had been before this day. And, for a mercy, they were
listening instead of attacking.
Armsmaster nodded, as if verifying something. "Why do you only do what Taylor Hebert says? Are you under some kind of Master compulsion from her?" The way he phrased it caught me by surprise, especially with the kick in the teeth at the end. What
didn't surprise me was that it was him saying it. He'd already proven himself to be a dick that way.
Zach wasn't even fazed by the question. "No. Taylor Hebert is not a parahuman, and Master powers would not work on me even if she was. I do what she says because it is what I am here for. After all, you cannot say that she did not need help when I met her." He looked directly at Armsmaster as he said it, with none of the hesitation most people showed when they couldn't see the eyes of the person they were addressing.
"You can't be certain of either of those statements." Armsmaster sounded absolutely sure of himself. "It takes a thorough medical examination merely to determine whether someone
may be a parahuman, and those under Master influence are always the last to realise it. Also, nobody
ever thinks they can be Mastered, until they are." I suddenly realised what he was doing; unable to beat Zach physically, Armsmaster was trying to make him doubt himself. The trouble was, I didn't know how to protest what he was doing without sounding like I was confirming what he was saying. 'Of course I'm not Mastering him' was exactly what a Master would say, after all.
Zach surprised me, and I think everyone else, by laughing. I'd never heard him laugh before, and it sounded just a little like he was trying it out for the first time. The laughter died away in a chuckle, and he smiled once more at Armsmaster. "As my sister might say, that was almost cute. I suggest that you stick to being a Tinker. You are better at that." He nodded toward Dad, even as Miss Militia made a noise suspiciously like a snort. "Now, I have already stated that Mr Hebert is to receive the reward for the Slaughterhouse Nine. Please make sure that happens. I would be very unhappy if it did not." He left unspoken what would happen if he became unhappy. Given that he'd only stopped smiling a few times since I'd met him, I wasn't quite sure what this would be like. I suspected that 'unpleasant' would be a good starting point.
Miss Militia stepped forward. "Mr Hebert will get the reward. We'll make sure of it." I got the distinct impression that she didn't want to see what Zach did when he was unhappy. She probably didn't have as much faith as I did that he wouldn't kill anyone without my say-so. Or possibly she thought that if they stiffed us on the reward, I might order Zach to go on a killing spree. Some people might do that; as I'd already noted, a hundred million dollars was quite the incentive for bad behaviour. I wasn't one of them, but she couldn't know that.
"Good," said Zach. "I trust you." And that was that. "But I believe that we were going to be going down to the Boardwalk. Are we still going there? I was looking forward to seeing it." That was Zach all over. Once a subject was done with, he left it alone. Also, he was kind of single-minded. It was a trait I could definitely admire.
"Oh, sure." I looked at Dad. "Is it okay if we go? I kinda wanna get away from here for a bit. Miss Militia said she'd drive us." Then I turned to Armsmaster. "Is that still okay? I mean, do you need her for anything?" I knew very well that I was putting him between a rock and a hard place. The very last thing Armsmaster wanted to do, as far as I could tell, was leave me and Zach to our own devices. If someone tried to hurt me, Zach was likely to roll them into a ball and bounce them down the street. More to the point, he was perfectly
able to do just that. Armsmaster didn't want that happening, so I was more or less blackmailing him into sending Miss Militia with us. I personally didn't care if idiots got hurt, but if it meant I got bothered less, I was all for the idea.
"Yeah." Dad was eyeing the house, his expression intent. "I need to stay and make sure these morons leave everything
exactly the way they found it." Turning, he looked at Zach and me. "Zach? Keep Taylor safe, but don't punt anyone into orbit unless she okays it first, all right?" His tone was almost joking, but I caught the undertone of seriousness. I didn't think he really considered it possible for Zach to literally punt someone into orbit. Personally, I was keeping an open mind.
Zach nodded seriously. "Yes, Mr Hebert. I will not punt anyone into orbit unless Taylor says I can." Dad might've considered what he said to be a joke, but Zach definitely didn't. I grabbed Zach's hand and squeezed. I knew that I probably wouldn't have to try too hard to stop him, seeing that putting someone in orbit was pretty well an automatic death sentence.
As far as I was aware, that is. Uncomfortably, I began to wonder if Zach had a way of putting someone into orbit
without killing them.
Oh, well. He did say he'd check with me first.
"Now that's settled, I think it's time we went to the Boardwalk." Miss Militia's tone was also cheerful, but I detected an odd note of tension. I glanced around to see what I was missing, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Certainly nothing to cause her to be on edge. She was barely even looking at us; most of her attention appeared to be on the southern sky.
"Sure thing," I said, watching her closely. "Let's go." At my words, she seemed to relax just a little, which made me wonder.
What's going on here? It couldn't be an ambush; she'd
tried and it had blown up in her face, in no uncertain terms. Which meant that it wasn't that she wanted to get us
to a particular place, so much as that she wanted to get us away from here.
But why?
We climbed into one of the remaining PRT vans. It was definitely well worth the two hundred thousand price tag, given that the bench seat in front allowed all three of us to sit side by side in comfort. "I might get Dad to spring for a replacement for the one that Zach threw at the Nine," I commented as I put my seatbelt on. Zach, sitting in the middle, didn't bother.
"While the gesture would be appreciated, it wouldn't really be necessary," she replied with a chuckle. Turning the key elicited a deep rumbling engine noise that sounded like it could drive the van straight up a vertical cliff face. She let the clutch in and put the vehicle in gear. "We have a budget for just this sort of thing. And considering the resources that have gone into killing members of the Nine before, one van is relatively cheap." We trundled off down the road in the general direction of the Boardwalk. "So where would you like to go? And do you mind if I ask Zachary some questions while we drive?"
Is this why she was so anxious to get going? So she could interrogate Zach? "Uh, somewhere near Fugly Bob's, I guess. I'm getting hungry again, and I'm pretty sure I could do with some grease and salt. And it's up to Zach if he wants to answer questions." I gave him a sideways glance. "Despite what he seems to think, I'm not his lord and master." My left hand found his right, and I squeezed it to show that I wasn't upset with him or anything. The whole 'there to make me happy' thing managed to weird me out and strike me as amazingly cool, all at once.
"Of course you are not, Taylor." He squeezed my hand reassuringly. "You are simply the reason for my existence. I am here to help you be happy." Which wasn't exactly news to me, except for the 'reason for my existence' bit. I would've brushed it off as male hype, but Zach didn't really
do male hype. Maybe it was another one of his jokes, only a little more obscure? "If you wish to ask me questions, Miss Militia, I will answer them unless I decide that I do not want to."
That was plain enough.
"Fair enough." She was silent for a moment, the distant thunder of the engine filling the cab. When she spoke, her voice was thoughtful. "You've mentioned a brother and a sister. Are they capes as well? And
why are you here to help Taylor?" She didn't look around as she wrestled the large wheel from one side to the other, but I could tell she was paying close attention to Zach all the same.
<><>
Danny
Danny watched the van roll out of sight, then turned to Armsmaster. "Okay, what happens now?" He could see that the PRT troopers were starting to pack gear back into their vans. Now that the 'dangerous parahuman' was no longer on site, the Protectorate forces were also starting to disperse. However, the armoured hero didn't seem to be in any hurry to move.
"We wait," Armsmaster said bluntly. "For the cleanup and repair on your house, and for one other thing." He gestured to the south. "The Director is on the way." Which struck Danny as odd. Why would Director Piggot attend a situation like this in person? After all, it was more or less all said and done.
"Why?" Danny could be blunt, too. "She doesn't need to come here to give me the reward. I can just as easily collect it from the PRT building." In fact, he was reasonably sure that there would be a certain amount of paperwork to complete before the reward was safe in his bank account.
Reward? Holy crap. Windfall! He'd managed to successfully forget the specifics of the reward for a few moments, but now it was coming back again. When he had a moment of privacy, he was going to be making a cup of coffee with a good slug of Jameson's whiskey in it. Or maybe two.
"Director Piggot has been … overridden," Armsmaster stated, his lips thinning slightly. "Director Tagg is coming in from Washington to take over the … situation." He didn't like it, Danny could tell. But he'd see this situation before; Armsmaster was a loyal company man who'd follow orders to the end, no matter his personal thoughts on the matter.
"You mean, this situation with Zachary and Taylor." Danny saw Armsmaster twitch.
Bingo. "Well, I wish him the best of luck. Between the two of them, I can't see
anyone making them do anything they don't want to do." He tried not to smile, but it wasn't easy. Taylor had been deriving an unseemly amount of amusement from the PRT's apparent collective inability to find their backsides with two maps and a compass, and he could see why. With Zach at her side, she could tell them to take a long walk off of a short pier, and had been doing almost exactly that ever since this situation had begun.
Armsmaster shaded his eyes with his hand. Danny could see nothing, but he thought he heard helicopter rotors. In a few moments, this became a certainty. As the aircraft came into view, Armsmaster turned to Danny. "One more thing. Director Tagg is a little reactionary. I would advise discretion when talking to him." He turned away, leaving a sudden sinking feeling simmering in Danny's guts.
Did he just call his commanding officer a loose cannon? It wasn't a comfortable thought at all.
The PRT soldiers, apparently following unheard orders, moved their vans up and down the road until there was a clear space in which to land the helicopter. Danny watched, holding up a hand to protect his face from flying pebbles, kicked up by the downwash. It came in for a fast, slick landing, leaving Danny to ponder that the pilot had possibly done this in combat situations before now. But he didn't have too much time to think about it, because the side door slammed open and a uniformed man climbed out. The newcomer was dressed in what looked more like a military uniform than the PRT troopers had on, for all that he had the PRT emblem on his lapels. He also had medal ribbons on his chest; Danny had no idea what they meant, but he had a lot of them. He also looked pissed, or perhaps that was just his natural expression.
Armsmaster stood to attention as the uniformed man approached. Neither of them saluted, but the newcomer looked Armsmaster up and down. "Armsmaster." Danny read TAGG on the man's nametag, which only confirmed what Armsmaster had said.
That got a nod. "Director Tagg." Armsmaster didn't sound happy, or sad. Or anything, really. His voice was absolutely neutral.
"I'll be taking over this scene. What's going on, and why is this civilian not back beyond the perimeter?" Tagg stared at Danny as if at a speck of dirt on his immaculately polished brass. Danny felt his temper rising, but restrained himself. The PRT
might not shoot him for slugging this asshole, but he didn't want to chance it.
"I'm Danny Hebert," he said before Armsmaster could say a word.
I can do some things for myself. "My daughter's the one who was victimised before Zachary saved her." He held out his hand to shake. "I'm pleased to meet you, Director Tagg."
No sense in not being polite to the new guy.
Tagg's glare didn't abate in the slightest. Ignoring the proffered hand, he pointed at Danny and addressed the nearest PRT soldiers. "Place this man under arrest. The charges are aiding and abetting, accessory to attempted murder, and whatever else we find when I start digging."
"Wait, what?" Tagg's instant judgement shocked Danny out of the feeling of mild complacency he'd let himself drift into. "No, you idiot! My daughter's the
victim! We had it all sorted out!" He saw the PRT troopers glancing at one another, as if unsure of what to do.
Tagg ignored Danny's words, just as he'd ignored his hand. "You and you." The newcomer gestured at the two nearest troopers. "Arrest this civilian, or you're on a charge. That's an order.
Now, goddamn it!"
That jolted them into action. They stepped forward and efficiently grabbed Danny's arms. He was too shocked at the sudden turn of events to resist meaningfully. "This is bullshit! Armsmaster!
Tell him!"
"Director -" began Armsmaster.
Tagg held up a hand to stop him. "Not another word. You're obviously compromised. Report to the PRT building for Master/Stranger screening." Armsmaster began to speak again; Tagg held up his hand once more. "That's a direct order, mister."
Seething, his hands cuffed behind his back, Danny watched as Armsmaster walked off stiffly toward his motorbike. Nor did he miss the gleam in Tagg's eye. The man obviously enjoyed throwing his weight around.
I should've decked him when I had the chance.
<><>
Taylor
"I have two brothers and one sister," Zach said cheerfully. "They are all older than me. They are not capes, but you may even have met them." He tilted his head to one side. "Yes, my sister says that you have met them all." Blithely, he changed subjects. "As for helping Taylor -"
"Wait." Miss Militia cut him off. "Get back to your brothers and sister. I've
met them? And you're communicating with them
right now? Who
are they?" Her voice held a certain amount of tension, which wasn't exactly surprising under the circumstances. This was something I'd been curious about as well.
Zach looked at her with a certain amount of puzzlement. If it was feigned, he was really good at putting it on. "You mean that you have not figured it out? My sister is the Simurgh, and my brothers are Behemoth and Leviathan. I was created to protect Taylor Hebert and keep her safe."
Miss Militia jammed on the brakes of the van. I felt them lock up and the vehicle began to screech to a halt; as it did so, I was thrown forward on to the seat belt with some force. Horns blared behind us, then a car swerved around the van, missing us by inches. Zach didn't shift at all in his seat; he placed his hand on my arm, and I found myself sitting comfortably as the van came to a complete stop in the middle of the street, just short of an intersection. Even as the vehicle rocked to a halt, Miss Militia turned to face us. "Say that again, please?" If I'd thought her voice was tense before, now you could've carved it with a chainsaw.
"Do you really wish to talk about this right now?" Zach seemed more intent than normal. "There are more important matters you might be interested to know about." His demeanour had me puzzled; normally, he was extremely outgoing with anything he had to say. The mention of 'more important matters' got my attention, especially seeing as what he'd just said to her was just an extension of his 'I am an Endbringer' joke.
But Miss Militia didn't see it that way. She probably wouldn't, not until I explained the punchline to her anyway. "Let's talk about what you just said," she stated quietly. "I'd rather hear about that first."
"Of course," Zach said brightly. I began to grin. "My sister -"
For the second time in less than a minute, he was interrupted. This time, it was by Hookwolf as he bowled through the intersection, not twenty feet in front of us, followed by a blast of fire.
That got
everyone's attention.
End of Part Five
Part Six