One More Trigger (Worm AU)

[Ack]

This Bonesaw clearly does not want to be rehabilitated, so I'm hoping for the prophecy twist: the predicted deaths aren't averted by Bonesaw healing those people, but by some circumstance where the Samaritans are forced to put her down (instead of the PRT doing it).

E: It's just like the Purity situation. Even if she's turned coat, even if she wasn't fully in control of herself, even if she was underage, she still did all those crimes.

Click to shrink...

Riley never wanted to become a member of the Nine, either.

It took one night for Jack to turn a six year old.

It's gonna take a little longer for three determined adults and six determined teens to start undoing the knots in her head, but they're gonna be working at it.

 

[SwiftRosenthal]

Riley never wanted to become a member of the Nine, either.

It took one night for Jack to turn a six year old.

Click to shrink...

Just because Jack was responsible for turning her evil, that doesn't make the fact that she's evil go away. Even if her only way out was literal suicide, she still had the option and never took it. Being brainwashed and underage doesn't stop her from being responsible for her own actions.

In hindsight, the best Bonesaw solution I've read (and can remember atm, but "can remember it years later" is a sign of quality) was the one in Queen of Blood. Sometimes you just have to put a mad dog down.

 

[Starfox5]

If we start demanding that little kids should choose suicide as the way out, we're a little too close to those who turn the kids into murderers. Riley was six when she was taken by Jack Slash. No one sane would treat or try a six year old kid as an adult. And of course she doesn't want to reform - yet. Deprogramming her will take time.

 

[Simonbob]

-Snip-

Click to shrink...

-Snip-

Click to shrink...

As long as they're not risking anybody getting killed along the way, it's fine by me.


But they are. Containing Bonesaw at the moment is doable. But, as Saint (May the flea's of thousand reindeer nest in his genitals) has already shown that even just holding her isn't certain.

Right now, they're taking a massive risk. Being that this is an Ack fic, it'll most likely pay off, but it could easily go wrong. Very, very, very wrong.

 

[Ack]

As long as they're not risking anybody getting killed along the way, it's fine by me.


But they are. Containing Bonesaw at the moment is doable. But, as Saint (May the flea's of thousand reindeer nest in his genitals) has already shown that even just holding her isn't certain.

Right now, they're taking a massive risk. Being that this is an Ack fic, it'll most likely pay off, but it could easily go wrong. Very, very, very wrong.

Click to shrink...

She's been utterly cut off from her previous support structure, which was enabling and encouraging her actions.

Jack Slash, the architect of her evil, is dead.

Her powers are no longer hers to access.

Her modifications have been removed.

She has three adults and six powered teens, including a biokinetic and a strong Thinker, on her case at all times.

The number of people both capable of busting her out of Samaritan custody and idiotic enough to try is very small. The number of those who know where she is, is exactly zero.

The risk is not as strong as you seem to think.

 

[Simonbob]

She's been utterly cut off from her previous support structure, which was enabling and encouraging her actions.

Jack Slash, the architect of her evil, is dead.

Her powers are no longer hers to access.

Her modifications have been removed.

She has three adults and six powered teens, including a biokinetic and a strong Thinker, on her case at all times.

The number of people both capable of busting her out of Samaritan custody and idiotic enough to try is very small. The number of those who know where she is, is exactly zero.

The risk is not as strong as you seem to think.

Click to shrink...

I'm not arguing with you, even if arguing with the author was a smart thing to do. It's still... I'm getting that "It's too much" feel.

I might just be feeling the whole story is looking at that shark, and wondering if it'll make 2 feet over it, or just 1. It's.... It's not quite working for me.

Might just be me.

 

[macdjord]

In hindsight, the best Bonesaw solution I've read (and can remember atm, but "can remember it years later" is a sign of quality) was the one in Queen of Blood. Sometimes you just have to put a mad dog down.

Click to shrink...

I have no objection to stories where she is just killed out of hand. But that's because she's incredibly fucking dangerous, not because she's 'evil' and there's a moral imperative to punish her.

 

[Ack]

I'm not arguing with you, even if arguing with the author was a smart thing to do. It's still... I'm getting that "It's too much" feel.

I might just be feeling the whole story is looking at that shark, and wondering if it'll make 2 feet over it, or just 1. It's.... It's not quite working for me.

Might just be me.

Click to shrink...

By what do you mean "It's too much"?

A bunch of teenagers trying to rehabilitate a horrifically dangerous serial killer?

Believe me, they aren't going to do anything as stupid as trust her any time soon.

Or are you thinking that they simply shouldn't be able to do it?

Normally, you'd be right.

Of course, normally, Lisa and Amy wouldn't be on the roster.

Specifically, the girl who can fill in your sentences for you and the rapidly-getting-her-head-together master biokinetic. As well as Vista.

Also, Taylor "I can find you anywhere with my bugs" Hebert, Madison "Air is my bitch" Clements and Emma "Snap crackle and pop aren't just a breakfast cereal mascot" Barnes.

Plus, three adults. Which makes nine to one against.

Rehabilitation isn't going to be easy, but it's not impossible.

 

[Simonbob]

Rehabilitation isn't going to be easy, but it's not impossible.

Click to shrink...

It's not that.

It might just be me. But, I think you're trying to match a group in your head, reguardless of how it works as a story.

It just doesn't work in my head. The whole fic, now. I'm somehow not seeing any of this working anymore.

It's too smooth. Too easy.



My suspention of disbelief is hit. Too few problems, too easy for the good guys.



I'll keep reading your stuff, but I'm not sure this'll be part of it.

 

[Ack]

It's not that.

It might just be me. But, I think you're trying to match a group in your head, reguardless of how it works as a story.

It just doesn't work in my head. The whole fic, now. I'm somehow not seeing any of this working anymore.

It's too smooth. Too easy.



My suspention of disbelief is hit. Too few problems, too easy for the good guys.



I'll keep reading your stuff, but I'm not sure this'll be part of it.

Click to shrink...

So what you're saying is that because they're prepared and trained, I should magically level-up their enemies?

They have conflict ahead.

 

[Simonbob]

So what you're saying is that because they're prepared and trained, I should magically level-up their enemies?

They have conflict ahead.

Click to shrink...

All I'm going to say is that I don't feel any tension about their victory. There's no doubt, no concern about the cost.



But Ack is Ack. You write how you write. I'll do my best to manage my expectations, appropriately.

 

[Ack]

All I'm going to say is that I don't feel any tension about their victory. There's no doubt, no concern about the cost.



But Ack is Ack. You write how you write. I'll do my best to manage my expectations, appropriately.

Click to shrink...

We shall see what we shall see.

 

[Ack]

One More Trigger

Part Thirty: Riley Grace

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

Bonesaw

"Now, now," chided Panacea. "Gloating does not become a hero. We must strive to be better than those that we face and defeat in battle."

To Riley, that sounded more than a little stilted, and she didn't even know the girl. But apparently she wasn't the only one to think so.

"That's a quote, right?" asked Ladybug, casually ignoring Riley in favour of the conversation. "Who from?"

Panacea snorted. "Carol. I swear, she made up so many half-baked rules that heroes had to follow, I was surprised she could get her costume on around the stick up her ass."

"Mind you, gloating's a bad habit to get into," observed a blonde teenager who strolled up behind Panacea and draped an arm over her shoulders in a familiar fashion. "I've seen it screw people up before." She wore an Alexandria T-shirt, jeans and a domino mask. Riley didn't know who she was.

"I'm not arguing with the sentiment," Panacea said, leaning back against the newcomer and reaching up to lace fingers with her. "Just with the pretentiousness."

Riley had no idea what was going on here or what the Samaritans wanted with her, except maybe to mess with her head. Which, though she wasn't going to just admit it, they were succeeding at doing. But nobody was getting in her face and preaching about being a hero or anything like that. It was very disorienting.

The PRT van drove off, revealing someone who had been standing at the driver's side window. Riley vaguely recognised her as Vista, Brockton Bay's youngest Ward and (according to Mr Jack) far more powerful than she let on. As she recalled, Director Piggy had said something about Vista being her parole officer. As if; she's only about a year older than me. And I bet I've been in the Nine longer than she's been in the Wards.

"Just going to say, pretentiousness does seem to go hand in hand with powers for some people," Ladybug noted. "The Nine were built around being pretentious, even though the only member of the team who survived its whole run was Jack Slash, and he did that by using the rest of them as meat-shields."

"That's not true!" Riley burst out, though she knew damn—darn—well that the bug-themed cape was only trying to get a rise out of her. "He cared about all of us!"

"So you loved him like a father, huh?" That was Vista. "You weren't scared of him at all? You weren't scared of the others?"

Riley set her jaw stubbornly. "No," she claimed. "They're my family. I'm not scared of any of them. I'm one of them."

"That's only partly true," observed the blonde girl with her arm draped around Panacea. "You saw Siberian as a mother figure or a pet, but you feared Jack so you did your best to please him." She tilted her head slightly. "Though you're also trying to please someone else … can't quite figure out who. Someone who's not around anymore?"

"You're wrong!" Riley shouted. "Mr Jack likes me! I'm his little poppet! And I don't have to please anyone else!"

"Really." The girl had a very irritating line in smirks. "It's funny how much 'poppet' sounds like 'puppet', doesn't it?"

"Athena, Vista, stop provoking the supervillain," Sparx said without heat. "Riley, you're with us for rehabilitation, just like you suggested back when we first captured you. However, we're not stupid. Your powers have been neutralised and we will be watching you twenty-four-seven. Any questions?"

"Yeah. Why?" Riley jabbed her thumb at her own chest. "You don't like me or trust me. What makes you think I can be rehabilitated? And why did the Director hand me over, anyway? Are you her kid or something?"

"I'm actually pretty sure any kid of Director Piggot would spontaneously trigger and then go villain, just to get away from her," the girl called Athena snarked. "Nope, nobody here is related to her, that we know of anyway."

Riley didn't respond to that; the girl's 'puppet' remark had stung more deeply than she'd expected. Instead, she looked at Vista challengingly. "And you're supposed to keep me in line, are you? What are you gonna do if I don't do as you say? Cry? Beat me up?"

"Nope." Vista gave her a steady return gaze, of a type she hadn't gotten from someone who wasn't Mr Jack or one of the Nine for a very long time. "I'm going to treat you the same as everyone else here. You get what you get, or you don't. Your choice."

"Ooh, I'm scared." Riley rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you guys beat us even once, let alone twice. You must be the luckiest amateurs on the east coast."

"Well, to be honest, I am curious." Ladybug stepped forward, the swarm moving with her. "What sort of training did Jack put you through? Fitness exercises? Capture the flag? Required reading for the capes you were going to be facing?"

"Hah, no." Riley snorted at how stupid that sounded. "Mr Jack figured out the plans and told us what we were supposed to do. We always won if we stayed and fought, but sometimes we snuck away if the odds were too great. They usually weren't, with Crawler and Siberian on our side."

"So you've never done any running to keep fit?" asked Athena, another smirk taking up residence on her face.

"No, why would I do that?" Riley snorted. "My powers let me stay as fit as I want to be. Anyway, I'm in the Nine. People run away from us, not the other way around." She paused, curious despite herself. "Why?"

Athena's smirk widened. "Oh, no reason," she purred.

"Okay, then." Sparx dusted her hand off briskly. "You wanted to know how we beat you, Riley? We're about to show you. C'mon." She led the way around the corner of the fence panel structure to where a table awaited with a sunshade over it. The last member of the Samaritans was there already, the one they called Aerodyne. "Suit up, ladies."

As she got closer, Riley identified the items on the table as goggles, painter's masks and earmuffs. Her confusion only increased when Athena took up a painter's mask and put it on; it covered her nose and mouth completely. Vista turned her back and removed her visor, then put a pair of goggles on; when she turned back around, Riley realised that the eyepieces had been painted dead black.

"How can you even see out of those things?" she demanded.

"I can't." Vista seemed unconcerned by this. "I can kinda vibrate my Shaker ability to see if there's anything solid around me, but for the most part I have to depend on the others to tell me which way to go."

"So you can't see right now?" Riley smirked and gave her the finger.

A large and unpleasant-looking wasp perched on the tip of her middle finger a moment later, the stinger just barely touching her skin. "No," buzzed the bugs around Ladybug as she pulled a painter's mask on, then followed up with a pair of goggles and a pair of earmuffs. "But I can." She hadn't even looked in Riley's direction.

"Hey, keep out of this," Riley told the bug on her finger. "This is between me and her."

"You'll find that we look out for each other," Ladybug told her bluntly. "If anyone attacks one of us, we all retaliate. Kind of like a beehive, only a whole lot less pleasant."

Riley decided to drop it, not least because the wasp looked like it really, really wanted to sting her. "Okay, so why are you putting that stuff on? Is it for protection?"

"Nope." Sparx was fitting a pair of the darkened goggles over her face, while Athena pulled on a set that only partly blocked her eyesight. "These force us to figure out more creative uses of our powers. We make things as hard for ourselves as we can while we train, so that actual combat is easier."

"Damn right," Aerodyne said. She was wearing darkened goggles and earmuffs, while Sparx put on a painter's mask. "So, you game to come on this training run, or sit it out?"

"Depends," said Riley warily. "Do I get punished if I sit it out?"

"Well, if you don't come along, you don't learn how we beat you," Ladybug said in that creepy buzzing voice.

Riley rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine, I'll come through with you. What do I need to know?"

Aerodyne smiled. "Excellent. You're a first-timer, so you don't get any handicaps. Our job is to get Panacea through the maze without being shot; your job is to observe what we do, so you know what's expected of you the next time around."

Sparx put her hands behind her back. Her hair formed words in the air with static highlighting the letters: ZIP-TIE ME?

"I got it," Ladybug said. "Aerodyne?"

"Yes, please." Aerodyne mimicked Sparx's move. In another moment, Ladybug had both her and Sparx firmly secured with the zip-ties, despite wearing goggles with dead-black lenses from side to side. "So, Riley. Any questions?"

"Yeah, just one." Riley stared at Aerodyne and Sparx. "You're seriously going into a training scenario with your hands tied?"

"Well, yes," Ladybug said. "If you already know how to do something, you'll never figure out an alternate idea unless someone makes it impossible the first way."

"You're nuts," Riley muttered. "Absolutely insane. And trust me, I know insane." She paused; something that Aerodyne had said earlier was bothering her. "Wait, shot?"

Sparx's hair lit up with two words. YOU'LL SEE.

<><>​

Three minutes later, Riley did indeed see.

She hadn't paid much attention to the catwalks over the top of the maze, or the three men who'd been standing up there talking quietly to one another, and she really should have. As soon as she moved into the maze with the others, the mayhem started. Paintbombs were hurled down from above, interspersed with really accurate paintball shooting. There were smoke bombs, showers spraying water and what she was fairly certain had to be bug spray.

In all of this, even while she ducked and yelped and cringed (being all too aware of her newfound vulnerability), the members of the Samaritans pressed forward, moving quickly and professionally even with the artificial handicaps they'd taken. Despite being effectively gagged, Athena somehow passed on information to the other members via rapid-fire hand signals, which the speaking members relayed to those who couldn't see. A couple of them got shot and immediately stopped on the spot until Panacea could get to them and wipe off the paint with a damp rag. Thus 'healed', they moved on.

The maze took a good twenty minutes to traverse, though it felt like about three hours to Riley. By the time she stumbled out the far end, coughing from the smoke and wringing water out of her hair, she was thoroughly glad that she hadn't been targeted by whoever was putting pinpoint-accurate paintballs downrange. Only by the combined efforts of Aerodyne, Sparx, Ladybug and Vista had they managed to fend off the attacks until they got all the way through.

"Okay, girls, not bad." A tall rangy figure slid down a ladder without bothering to use the rungs and approached them. "Take ten, then hit the track. We'll reset the traps and you can go through it the other way on the next run."

Riley stared at him. The voice was familiar and when she moved aside so that the afternoon sun wasn't behind his head, she recognised him. "You!" she said accusingly.

He adjusted his glasses and observed her with a raised eyebrow. "We're down to pronouns, are we?"

She took a deep breath, wishing she still had dart launchers. "You were there! You shot Mr Jack!"

"I did," he agreed. "He had it coming. Anyone who threatens me or mine had best make out their will, because I only ever give one warning."

Riley had heard threats from the best. Mr Jack had been particularly good at it; she'd figured it was because everyone knew he was willing to go that extra mile and make sure someone was really dead.

And because he was able to cut someone's throat from across the room, of course.

This guy, standing there with a paintball gun slung over his shoulder and heavy work gloves on his hands, shouldn't have so much as hit her scale of 'menacing', but somehow his words sent a shiver down her back in a way that even Director Piggot's most dire pronouncements hadn't managed to do. He gave her one more look, then turned away and headed toward the maze. "Alpha," he said into a hand-held radio. "Disable thirty-three, will you?"

"Disabling," the radio crackled, but Riley wasn't paying attention anymore. She turned away to where the others were removing their goggles and earmuffs and painter masks and placing them on a second table, twin to the first. As she watched, there was a loud POP of discharged current, accompanied by a sudden smell of ozone, and Sparx pulled her hands free of the zip-tie holding her. Aerodyne wasn't far behind her; with a thin high-pitched whistling noise that did not come from her mouth, she parted her own restraints and lifted the goggles from her head.

"Who was that guy? Was he one of the jerks shooting at us?" Riley complained. "Who set this all up?"

Aerodyne tilted her head to a pavilion that had been set up a little distance away. Tables bearing what Riley could almost swear were drinks and snacks were set up in the shade. "Let's go have that ten minutes while we talk. We get to sit down and take the weight off and trust me, you'll be glad you did."

"Why?" asked Riley suspiciously, but she followed along. They weren't treating her like an enemy anymore, just like a newcomer to the team. It was nice, she guessed, though she didn't trust it for a second. There was going to be another shoe dropping, one that was steel plated and had lots of spikes underneath.

They were settled on folding chairs and Riley had a glass of soda in one hand and a cracker with cheese in the other before Ladybug answered her original question. "Those guys, well, one of them's my dad, and the other two are Aerodyne's and Sparx's dads. Our job is to run the maze. Their job is to make the maze as hard to run as possible."

"You ran that one pretty fast just now." Riley took a decorous bite of her cracker, then chased it down with a sip of soda. "How long have you been practising it?"

"That setup? First time," Sparx said cheerfully. "We'll run it a few more times, then they'll reset the entire thing. Takes them most of a day."

Aerodyne nodded. "They brainstorm new booby traps and other ways to screw with our powers and keep us on our toes, all the damn time." She rubbed her butt, where a faint blue mark indicated the impact point of a paintball earlier. "And they make sure we remember it when we screw up."

Riley blinked, an unpleasant realisation making itself known to her. The Samaritans had bulldozed the obstacles in the maze like they'd already planned for them, but apparently they hadn't. It was just the way they were trained. "So the way you took us down the first time and the second time, it wasn't a fluke? You didn't just get lucky?"

"Hahaha nope," said Vista, waving a piece of cake for emphasis. "First time I met them, they'd just shut down a bank robbery by Athena's crew. Owned them like a lottery ticket. So when Director Piggot offered me the chance to go be a liaison, I jumped on it with both feet. Never regretted it for a minute."

Athena jabbed her playfully with her elbow. "Well, maybe a couple of times? I know I have."

"That's the difference between you and me," Vista said with a smirk. "When I volunteered to be a liaison, I did it because I wanted to get into the Samaritans. You stepped up to get out of a bad situation, without thinking of where it was leading to. Meanwhile, Amy over there …"

"Amy over here did both at the same time, because I'm nothing if not a multitasker when it comes to making questionable life decisions," Panacea observed from the other side of Athena. She raised her eyebrows at the other two. "I will say this much. Even when I've regretted it, I haven't regretted it. New Wave was good in its own way, but in the Samaritans I can be me. I'm still finding out who that is, to be honest, but I'm doing it in my own time, in my own way, and you guys don't judge."

"Well, duh," Ladybug said. "If any of us was in the least bit judgemental, we'd do nothing but. We're friends. We're teammates. We've got each other's backs."

Riley tried to think back to instances of the same kind of warm camaraderie with the whole Nine together, and had trouble with the idea. Mr Jack had of course been the centre of attention at all times; it was how he had to be. All eyes were drawn to him. But he'd never been warm. He never bantered with anyone the way the Samaritans bantered with each other. His word had to be final … and oddly enough, in a team full of people who were ready to kill on a whim, that had always been the way. Nobody gainsaid him, or presented logical reasons for why he might be wrong, even when such reasons were readily available.

The Siberian had been nothing but kind to her; holding her as she slept to stave off the nightmares, allowing her to braid those black and white locks, carrying her on those tall slender shoulders. But she wasn't warm either. She couldn't be. It was not in her nature.

As for the other members of the Nine, more than a few had come and gone since she had joined. Everyone was polite, some were friendly, but nobody was warm to her, and joked in the way that these people did. Maybe it was because she was closer to their age than anyone else had been.

So did that make her strong and them weak, or her stupid and them smart? She knew which way she wanted to jump on that one. Ever since she'd joined the Nine, she'd been stronger than she ever could have imagined. An entire nation was terrified of her name.

Bonesaw. Not Riley. They weren't terrified of Riley Grace Davis. It was Bonesaw they feared.

She was obscurely proud of that fact. She, six-year-old Riley, had taken that name and made something of it. Sure, Mr Jack had needed to suggest a few targets at first, and he'd chided her for not being imaginative enough. His disapproval had hurt and scared her, because if he decided she wasn't worth his time, that she was an outsider in the Nine, her lifespan would be measured in minutes if not seconds.

So she'd applied herself and put all her considerable imagination toward impressing Jack with her skills. Her power allowed her to ignore the squick factor of blood and exposed flesh and other aspects of cutting people up; it was only a short step from there to having pride in her work, and then positive enjoyment of it and the praise that Mr Jack heaped on her for it.

But now the Nine were gone, scattered. Burnscar was dead, so they said, as was Mr Jack. Personally, Riley didn't believe that, at least about Mr Jack. She'd built enough redundancies and organ reinforcement into his torso to make it very hard to kill him with anything less than a tank shell or a full-blooded punch from Alexandria.

She sipped at her soda and nibbled at her cracker, vaguely aware that if she had her powers she'd be able to engineer subtle poisons from the food and drink that was on the table. But she didn't, so she was just going to have to bide her time and wait for her captors to make a mistake. The only one they'd made so far that she could see was in treating her so casually, almost like she was one of them. Which, she reluctantly admitted to herself, was nicer than the overt hostility she'd been getting from the PRT—no!

Gritting her teeth, she kept her expression bland as she berated herself for almost falling into the trap. They were being the Good Cop, while the PRT was the Bad Cop. It was all a huge con. She was Bonesaw of the Nine, not some kid who didn't know which way was up, and anyone who thought differently was in for a lethal surprise as soon as she got her powers back.

Being a member of the Nine for so long, she'd learned to hide her true thoughts while cultivating an outward appearance of 'good little girl', so she was pretty sure nobody had picked up on her mental lapse. Glancing around casually at the others, who were in the main laughing and joking with each other, her eyes fell on Athena who was replying to something Panacea had said. Even as she spoke to the biokinetic, Athena briefly locked gazes with Riley and smirked ever so slightly.

The message was clear. I know what you're thinking.

Riley yanked her gaze away and clenched her fists so tight that her nails—trimmed close by the PRT—dug into her palms. What was Athena's game? Why was she not denouncing Riley to everyone else? It wasn't like the girl lacked confidence or was thought unreliable by the others, even though she'd come from a villain gang. It all came down to one big question.

What does she want from me?

She was still wondering that when the tall man with the glasses ducked into the pavilion and cleared his throat. "That's ten minutes," he announced. "Track time. Ten laps, everyone."

"You heard Delta," Sparx stated, getting up. "Domino masks if you want them, then limber up. We hit the track in five minutes."

Riley ignored Ladybug and Vista going to a small table where domino masks lay in favour of speaking to the redheaded girl. "Track?" she asked.

"Running track," Sparx stated, lifting one leg and hugging it to her chest. She looked across at Riley. "You might want to do some stretches. You're running with us."

"Nah, I think I'll sit out," Riley decided, relaxing back into her chair. "Go on without me."

"Excellent," said the tall man. "We need someone to test the booby traps for us. How do you feel about paint in your hair?"

Riley looked at him, and he looked back. Despite his mild features and glasses, there was not an ounce of give in him. "You're not serious," she said, though she wasn't sure if she believed it herself.

"Oh, absolutely." His smile never reached his eyes. "We also need to sight in our paintball guns. How fast can you run?"

If he was bluffing, she couldn't tell, and she liked to think she was a good judge of that sort of thing. After a second or so, she decided that he wasn't bluffing. They would absolutely throw paint over her and use her for target practise.

"Feel free to take him up on that," Athena said from behind her. "I did, once. I had bruises on my butt for days. But hey, I got out of running track that day."

Riley considered defying them and remaining in her chair. But she knew if she physically refused to cooperate with their training schedule, they would take that much longer to let their guard down, or even send her back to the PRT. So far, she was on to a good thing so long as she pretended to play along. Besides, she'd been a cape longer than any of these wimps. It wasn't like they'd been through half the stuff she had.

Slowly, she got to her feet. "So where's this stupid running track?"

<><>​

Being a paintball target, Riley decided, might have been a better option.

The running track was a graded dirt road that wended through the trees in a rough oval, with thick enough undergrowth that it would be almost impossible to force one's way through to make a shortcut. There were no rough patches or rocks to trip over, and the sheer number of footprints in the dust bore silent witness as to how often it got used for this purpose. Overall, she decided in some small analytical part of her mind, it was probably about five hundred yards in length.

Or, a larger part of her argued, about a million miles.

Streaming with sweat, she stumbled along, panting like a steam-train. To her horrified annoyance, everyone else was actually running, even Vista. And as far as she could tell, the Ward wasn't so much as cheating with her powers. In fact, she seemed to be positively enjoying the exertion and the chance to get out into the open air. Not that Riley was left alone on the run; Athena and Panacea were taking turns to pace her, swapping out for each lap while the other forged ahead and lapped her, just to add insult to injury.

Worst of all were Ladybug, Sparx and Aerodyne. Those three were flying around the track with Ladybug ahead and the other two in hot pursuit. Riley was left wondering how long those three had been doing this, and why Vista and Panacea and Athena didn't get angry with them for showing off that they were so much better.

Why should I even be running? she demanded of herself. The members of the Samaritans had proven to be unexpectedly fit and a lot faster on the track besides. Part of her wanted to drop back to a walk, or even just sit down on the track and refuse to move at all. But then there was the will to keep going, to never give up, that had allowed her to survive her induction into the Nine all those years ago. And there was also her stubborn pride as Bonesaw of the Nine. She had met and beaten bigger challenges than this before.

Her exhausted meanderings were interrupted by a sudden nausea that wracked her body. Falling to her hands and knees, she vomited in the middle of the track, arching her back and heaving until nothing but bile was coming up.

"Shit, is she okay?" Panacea pushed past the others; Athena, who'd been kneeling beside her and rubbing her back, made way. The biokinetic laid the back of her hand against Riley's forehead.

"I'm guessing a little bit of heat exhaustion and dehydration," Athena said, though the tone of her voice made it anything but a guess.

"Right on the money." Panacea did something that made Riley feel a little better, at least enough to stop throwing up. "Of course, the crap they were feeding her at the PRT wasn't helping in the slightest. Get her back into the shade and get her cooled down. She'll need electrolytes, too."

"On it." Two voices spoke at once; Athena and Sparx.

Riley was only vaguely aware of being lifted and carried, wrapped in something that was warm and soft and comfortable. By the time she was ready to pay attention to her surroundings, she was back in her folding chair in the shade.

"Water," she croaked.

"Close your eyes," Athena told her.

Riley didn't have the will to resist. She closed her eyes.

A moment later, cool water trickled over her head, spreading out in all directions over her scalp, cooling the skin deliciously before cutting channels through the grime on her face as well as running down the back of her neck.

It felt heavenly.

"Okay, you can open 'em now." There was a gurgling noise and Athena handed her another cup. "Just take it easy. Let your body adjust. Flush your mouth out before you actually drink any of it."

"I know all that," she said with some annoyance. Or rather, she had known, instinctively, how the body would react to various stresses. Did she know it now, or did she just think she did?

"Mm-hmm." Athena pressed a damp cloth to her forehead, mopping away the sweat and dust that was clinging to her skin. "How's that feel?"

"Better," Riley said reluctantly. "Thanks." The word popped out before she could call it back, and she felt a spike of annoyance at herself. She took a mouthful, swirled it around, then spat it off to the side. Her mouth still tasted horrible, so she did it twice more before actually letting the cool liquid run down her throat.

"That's good." Athena nodded to herself as she began sponging down the back of Riley's neck. "When you've finished that water, we've got Gatorade. It'll get the electrolytes back into your system and make sure you don't come down with cramps."

It was weird, how solicitous she was being. Riley decided that they clearly didn't want to have their prisoner hospitalised on the first day. "How many laps did I make before I upchucked?"

"Four, four and a half? Let's call it a mile." Athena shrugged. "I'm guessing you're used to being carried if you had to go far and fast, yeah?"

"Well, yeah." There wasn't much point in denying it. "I'm twelve. Even with augments, I was still slower than any one of the rest of them."

She'd finished the cup of water. Athena twisted the cap off a bottle of the promised sports drink and handed it over. Riley took a mouthful and swallowed it, grimacing at the taste but knowing she needed it.

"Quick question; just give me the first answer that pops into your head," Athena said casually. "If you and Jack were running for your lives, would he sacrifice himself to let you get away or would he leave you to die?"

"Leave me to die," Riley said without thinking, then pulled herself up abruptly. "Hey, wait, that's no fair asking questions like that when I'm not thinking right. He'd find a way to get us both away."

"And if a way like that didn't exist?" Athena's voice was quiet.

"He'd make one!" insisted Riley. "Mr Jack wouldn't abandon me."

Just for a moment, her eyes met Athena's. Instead of the mocking or gloating expression she expected to see there, all she found was empathy and understanding. Somehow, that burned more deeply than derision.

She turned her face away. "You wouldn't understand."

"You might be surprised," the blonde ex-villain said softly. "I had a boss like that once upon a time. He loved to manipulate people, too. Even kidnapped a little girl who had a power that he wanted to use for his own. I was paid handsomely, but I always had the understanding that I was expendable. If he ever decided that keeping me was more trouble than using me up, I would've been on the trash heap the next day. That's why, when the Samaritans stopped that bank robbery, I saw my chance and jumped ship. Because I know Coil would've shot me in the leg, or the face, if it meant giving him half a chance to get away."

That sounded like past tense. "So what happened to him? This Coil guy, I mean?"

Athena chuckled. "Well, once everyone was on the same page, we went back and took him down. The gang here, plus Glory Girl. You know, Panacea's sister?"

"I know of her," Riley said carefully. "I was, uh, more interested in Panacea herself. Possible, whaddayacallems, synchronisations between our powers?"

"Synergies," Athena said at once. "And yeah, you're not wrong. You two could have a level of synergy that would be utterly frightening with someone like Jack Slash calling the shots." She tilted her head to one side. "Was it you or Jack who wanted you to go after her?"

Riley wanted to say me! but paused long enough to think about it. "… Mr Jack, I think," she said after a moment. "But it wasn't a hard sell for me. I wanted a big sister who was like me, not just someone who was in the team one day and dead the next. She was supposed to be a hero, but Mr Jack thought he could bring her around to his way of thinking. He's really good at that."

"Yeah, he was," Athena said. "We were brainstorming, the first time around, and we came up with a theory that he might be a really subtle Master. I mean, how else would he keep people like the Siberian and Crawler and Hatchet Face from just murdering him in his sleep and taking over? That kind of people really don't play nice with others. Just saying."

"He's not a Master," Riley said instinctively. Athena didn't say a word, just looked at her with slightly raised eyebrows. "Well, he's not," she reiterated, feeling defensive. "We do what we do because we want to. Not because he's making us do it."

"You do realise that you're quoting the PRT handbook on how to spot Master influence, almost word for word," Athena said quietly. "But I'm not going to argue with you about it. I just want you to think about the possibility."

Riley rolled her eyes. "Yeah, so you can make me feel so bad about what I've done that I renounce my villain ways and come over to the side of good. That's never gonna happen."

"Well, I'll be the first to admit that there'll be a lot of roadblocks," Athena conceded. "The justice system has a kill-boner for you despite the fact that you're still a minor because you've spent six years redefining the phrase 'body horror'. But I think they're wrong."

"Oh, really?" Riley put all the sarcasm she had at her disposal into those two words. "So … what, am I supposed to be able to pretend that I was never Bonesaw, because Mr Jack's the one who made me be this way in the first place?"

"That's precisely what I think happened," Athena said. "I know a lot about Stockholm Syndrome and brainwashing, and I'm pretty sure that's exactly what's happened to you. But what can be done can be undone. I think there's a chance you can still be a good person again, if you were willing to work with us."

"Yeah, well, you're wrong," Riley said defiantly. "I know Mr Jack killed my family and took me away, and I don't care. I like doing what I do. I like being Bonesaw. He showed me what I could do, who I could be, but the rest was all me." She took a long drink of the Gatorade; the taste was starting to grow on her. "So what are you gonna do? Send me back to the PRT so they can put a bullet in my head one fine morning, or are you just gonna do the deed out here and bury me in an unmarked grave?"

"Neither." Athena's tone never changed. "We took you on to see if we could rehabilitate you, and there's no way we're giving up after just one day. Me, I'm looking forward to beating Jack Slash one last time."

Riley sniffed, in as superior a manner as she could achieve. "Good luck with that." She frowned, suddenly curious. "Say, what's with that, anyway?"

"What's with what?" Athena's carefree tone didn't match the intent look on her face. "You might want to narrow it down a little."

"The way you keep talking about Mr Jack, like he's dead." Riley gave her an annoyed look. "He's not, and we both know it."

"What makes you think he isn't?" The intent look was there in full force.

Riley rolled her eyes. "Well, duh. Shooting him in the chest is only going to annoy him a bit. Armoured sternum, protective mesh around his important organs, shock cage around his heart. So why are you acting like he's dead?"

"Because he is." Athena closed her left eye and tapped the eyelid with her fingertip. "Twelve-gauge shotgun firing double-ought buckshot through the eye-socket at one inch range. Autopsy found no life signs, and his brain had been pulped. His corpse is currently under guard just to be absolutely certain, but he is very, very dead."

The world came to a screeching halt for Riley as she took in the blonde ex-villain's words. People had tried to kill Mr Jack before, both before and after she'd become part of the Nine. Heroes and other villains alike just could not seem to get a clear shot. Even those who did … she recalled how Crimson had leaped in the way of an attack that would have shredded Mr Jack into bloody confetti. Winter had exacted a horrific vengeance but her lover had still been dead, and Mr Jack was very much alive.

Is he—was he—really a Master?

No, can't think about that.

Is he really dead?

Closing her eyes, she tried to think it through logically. What Athena was describing could definitely have killed Mr Jack. She'd reinforced his skull, to the point that pistol fire would bounce off more often than not, but it was near-impossible to armour the eye-sockets. The heavy buckshot would've ricocheted around inside his skull until his brain was basically mush …

Poop.

He really is dead, isn't he?

I'm just fooling myself if I try to think otherwise.

If he was still alive, there's no way the PRT would hand me over to the Samaritans, powered or otherwise.

She opened her eyes, to find herself looking into Athena's bottle-green gaze. There was still no gloating or triumph, just … concern. Concern for Riley. Which was weird as poop, because if she still had her powers, she'd …

With Mr Jack dead, what was she supposed to do?

Declare vengeance on the people who murdered him (to stop him from murdering them)?

Throw her entire villain career away and embark on a life of good, with rainbows and unicorns and kittens and puppies (and not to experiment on)?

Break free of the Samaritans and restart the Slaughterhouse Nine in her own image (and probably be murdered in her sleep by them, because Athena had a good point)?

"You okay?" Athena's voice was level and calm. Riley had the nagging feeling that the older girl knew most, if not all, of what had just gone through her head … and was fine with it.

"Never better," she lied, knowing that Athena was fully aware it was a lie. I know that you know that I know that you know … "But if you think I'm going back into that maze, you've got another think coming."

"Well, no, not today," Sparx said firmly. Riley looked around to see that the rest of the Samaritans had been sitting a little distance away, apparently to give her and Athena some privacy. Sparx was now standing, having gotten up at Riley's words. "While having you collapse in the middle of the maze might add verisimilitude, I'd rather not make Panacea deal with an actual medical emergency during training. But you will be running it, for real, in the near future."

"Yay." Riley made her voice as deadpan as possible. "Don't hold your breath."

To her surprise, the others burst out laughing. Aerodyne even went so far as to come over and offer her a high-five. Riley sneered and didn't even bother responding. You gotta be kidding.

She was a prisoner in the middle of the enemy camp. That was something she couldn't afford to forget. Playing along to get along was one thing, but she was not one of them; nor would she ever be.

<><>​

That Night

The house belonged to Ladybug and her father. She still hadn't learned their names, though she'd seen their faces; she'd been told to call him 'Delta'. It felt kind of silly, but she'd spent the last six years among people who used their supervillain monikers exclusively, so it could easily have been worse.

The evening meal was partaken around a table in the kitchen; apart from Riley, Athena was there. Ladybug apparently needed glasses, and had a long serious face that the costume managed to hide to a certain degree. There was less banter than there had been in the team exercise earlier, and she wondered how much of this silence was due to having to keep secrets from her. She also noticed that her place setting was the only one that had plastic cutlery.

With all that, the meal had been filling and delicious. A lot better than she'd been getting from the PRT, that was for sure.

"Good maze run today," Ladybug observed. "That autofiring paintball gun was a nasty surprise."

"I thought so." Delta's slight smile reached his eyes this time. "It was, uh, Romeo's idea."

By now, Riley was aware that they were using phonetic alphabetic tags for the adults. So 'Romeo', who had to be either Sparx's or Aerodyne's dad, had a name starting with 'R'. Which … really didn't help her in the slightest.

"Money came through today," he went on. "I think … we'll talk about that later." His sidelong glance at Riley spelled out the reason in huge neon letters.

"Oh, do go ahead," she said sweetly. "Feel free to discuss how you're going to use the blood money you got for killing the guy who was my father figure over the last six years. Murdering a helpless prisoner. How did it make you feel?"

He met her gaze over the table. No longer diffident, his resolve was iron-hard, his tone sharp enough to slice diamond. "Then? Relieved that the man who'd been about to cut my daughter's throat was dead. Now? Thirty-six million dollars richer. How many helpless people did he murder over the years, and why is it suddenly such a bad thing now that it's happened to him?"

"Dad …" Ladybug tugged at his sleeve. Riley, about to throw back the hackneyed old line of 'that makes you no better than us', caught the look in Ladybug's eye and decided not to. She let her superior smile speak for her, quietly pleased that she'd at least gotten under his skin.

"Well, now, that's an excellent time for us to get ready for bed, Riley." Athena stood up, her hand wrapping around Riley's arm. Her fingers dug into just the right nerve point to give the younger girl no choice at all about standing up as well.

"Fine." Riley rolled her arm out of Athena's grip and followed her upstairs to the bathroom. They'd supplied a toothbrush for her to clean her teeth; it was a habit she'd kept for years, all part of being a 'good girl'. Through the floorboards, she could hear the tones of an argument, though not the actual words.

Spitting out the used toothpaste, she flushed her mouth out. "So when are you sending me back to the PRT?"

"What?" asked Athena. "Where did you get that idea from?"

Riley gestured toward the floorboards. "Are you deaf? They hate me." The words surprised her; not that she'd been thinking them, but that she'd had to say them out loud.

"They hate the idea of you." Athena had been brushing her teeth alongside Riley. "Not you personally." She paused, thinking. "Okay, maybe they hate you personally, just a little. But mainly, they hate the concept that any one of them, under different circumstances, could've ended up where you are. Happily using their powers at the whim of a horrific mass murderer. Each of them could do as much damage, or more, with their powers as you did. And every time you identify with being Bonesaw, you remind them of that. Does that make sense?"

"Well, no duh, Sherlock." Riley rolled her eyes. "I was in the Nine. Everyone hated us. Including you, I bet."

Athena snorted. "Think again. I've been there, remember? Not for as long, and Coil technically isn't as bad as Jack Slash, but yeah, I know what it's like to be under the thumb of an amoral asshole. And I am so damn glad to be out from under."

Riley had trouble assessing that mindset. Life without Mr Jack made her feel exposed, vulnerable. For the first time, she could understand what it felt like to be on the other side of being skinned alive, and she didn't like it. "I'm not. It was simpler in the Nine. Mr Jack knew how the world worked."

"Newsflash, kiddo." Athena smirked. "Most of us are just faking it from day to day. You show me someone who says he knows exactly what the hell's going on, and I'll show you a goddamn liar."

"Language," Riley said automatically. She stepped out into the corridor and looked around. "So where am I going to be sleeping? For that matter, where are you going to be sleeping?" She'd showered and put on a T-shirt and jeans she suspected had been donated by Vista, but they were hardly sleepwear.

"Downstairs." Athena led the way back toward the stairs.

"What, on that sofa?" Riley frowned. "It's kinda lumpy."

"It's absolutely lumpy," Athena agreed. "Which is why neither one of us is going to be sleeping on it." They headed down the stairs, Riley noting that the argument died away before it could become properly audible.

Back in the kitchen, Delta and Ladybug had begun to clear the dishes, though there was still an air of tension in the room. Riley suspected the argument would be ongoing for awhile yet. It felt weird; nobody argued with Mr Jack unless he wanted the disagreement to continue for whatever reason. But Ladybug seemed to be perfectly okay with talking back to her father and defying his will. That just wouldn't happen in the Nine.

"Night, guys." Athena led the way through the kitchen to what Riley belatedly realised was a basement door. She opened it and gestured to the stairs within. "After you."

"Night, uh, Athena." Ladybug came over and gave the blonde teen a hug. "You'll be okay?"

"Yeah, totes. Ames gave me a mod so I can stay up all night if I want." Athena fished her phone out of her pants pocket. "So long as you've got a charge point down there, I'm copacetic."

"We've got one down there." Delta cleared his throat roughly. "Good night, Athena … Riley."

Riley didn't answer; she figured she wasn't expected to. Are they really going to lock me in the basement overnight?

The light was already on, so she headed down the steps, careful not to get a splinter from the wooden rail. There was a washing machine and a dryer, and a wooden panel screwed to the wall. Across the other side of the basement was an old workbench. But what really caught her eye was the bed.

It wasn't anything fancy, but it had a nice thick mattress, sheets and a blanket. There was even a pillow. Between the bed and the stairs was a comfortable-looking armchair.

"Wait," said Riley suspiciously as she reached the bottom of the steps. "Do I get the bed or the chair?"

"You get the bed, I get the chair," Athena said briskly. "I'm gonna be staying up all night because, and don't take this the wrong way, we don't trust you as far as we can spit you if we don't have our eyes on you every step of the way. But that doesn't mean you have to be uncomfortable."

Riley tried to feel offended at this but in all honesty, Athena had a point. Given a chance, she would totally try to turn the tables somehow.

Well, maybe after a good night's sleep.

"Whatever," she snarked back, testing out the mattress with her hands. It was springy, but not too much so. At the end of the bed, there was a set of pyjamas with cutesy little pink flying unicorns on them. Picking them up, she looked questioningly at Athena.

"Vista's," the blonde teen confirmed. "And yes, you can feel free to tease the crap out of her about them when you see her next."

Riley's grin was predatory. "I might just do that." She waited until Athena turned her back then changed into the pyjamas. They were soft and comfortable, just as the bed was when she climbed onto it.

Not once did she consider attacking the blonde teen when she wasn't looking, and that was only partly due to the fact that she was pretty sure Athena would see her coming anyway. The other part was simple; of everyone in the Samaritans, Athena had been the one to most consistently treat her like a human being and listen to what she had to say. She didn't like Athena—the girl was bossy, smug and loved showing off how smart she was—but she didn't hate her either.

Once Riley was settled down in bed, Athena went partway up the stairs and pulled the cord to turn the light off. Her footsteps came back down and Riley heard the creak as she curled up in the armchair. A moment later, a dim light came up as she turned her phone on. In the faint radiance, Riley saw her face as she looked over at the bed. "Night, Riley."

She didn't want to be friendly with these people, but … well, it couldn't hurt. "Night, Athena."

There was a long pause, then Athena spoke again in the darkness. "Lisa. My name's Lisa."

"Oh." Riley was unaccountably touched. It probably didn't matter in the slightest, but Athena sharing her real name was the most human gesture she'd gotten in recent days. "Good night, Lisa."

"Night."

Silence fell then, broken only by the very faint tapping of Lisa's fingers on her phone screen—if Riley had to guess from her personality, she was probably shitposting on the PHO boards—and the occasional creak from the house above. Rolling over, Riley got comfortable, which was remarkably easy with the bed they'd given her, combined with the exertions she'd been through on that day. Closing her eyes, she tried to drift off to sleep.

<><>​

"Be a good girl …"

Stifling a scream, Riley sat bolt upright in bed, staring around her with wide eyes. Hyperventilating, she tried to make sense of her surroundings. This wasn't what she was used to. Mr Jack wasn't there. The Siberian wasn't there. Nobody was there. Where am I?

"Hey. Hey, you okay?"

The voice was soft and familiar, and the hand on her arm gave her something to focus on. She turned, to see a silhouette against the light of a phone left on an armchair. "Lisa?" she whispered as a memory dropped into place.

"That's me. You okay? Nightmare?"

"No … no, I'll be fine." She couldn't show weakness, not in front of Lisa. Even though sweat was even now drying cold on her forehead, and her heart was still thundering in her chest.

"Pfft, hah. I'm calling bullcrap. Shove over." The blanket was pushed aside, and the bed creaked as Lisa's weight settled onto it.

Automatically, Riley made room for her. She felt the blonde teen tug the blanket back up to cover them both. One arm slid under Riley's neck, while the other wrapped around her waist and held her tight. As if they'd done it a dozen times before, they settled into the spooning position that was so familiar to her. Without even thinking about it, she put her hand over Lisa's where it rested on her stomach, lacing their fingers together.

"Better?" murmured Lisa.

"Mm-hmm." It was more than 'better'. It was warmth and comfort and protection, and the nearness of another person. To be held close so that she could sleep. Everything that she'd been missing in PRT lockup.

"Good. I'll be here when you wake up."

Reassured, Riley slept.



End of Part Thirty

 

[macdjord]

"The Nine were built around being pretentious, even though the only member of the team who survived its whole run was Jack Slash, and he did that by using the rest of them as meat-shields."

Click to shrink...

Was Jack Slash part of the original Nine? I know he wasn't the original leader - he and Harbinger (a.k.a. Number Man) killed the previous leader, King, after which Harbinger left and Jack took over - and I was under the impression that Jack was a relatively new member at the time.

 

[Zackarix]

Was Jack Slash part of the original Nine? I know he wasn't the original leader - he and Harbinger (a.k.a. Number Man) killed the previous leader, King, after which Harbinger left and Jack took over - and I was under the impression that Jack was a relatively new member at the time.

Click to shrink...

Jack Slash and Harbinger killed King in 1987, only five years after Scion showed up in 1982. I suppose it's possible, but there's not a lot of reason to think that he wasn't one of the original members.

 

[Scopas]

Wow... That... was an intense chapter of deprogramming.

First, thank you truly, Ack (both for the quality chapter, and for your continued analysis posts on FC, they improve my enjoyment of each and every chapter).

Second: I'm really torn on Bonesaw. On one hand, I am a lazy person, and a generally forgiving person. As such, once any amount of time passes, I tend to forgive and/or forget people. I also really, really want to believe in redemption, or at the very least, the power of penance. I don't think that I am a good person, and the idea that even the worst people can somehow find a way back to the light makes me feel better about the shit show that is the human condition. On the other hand, I believe in the Hobbnesian social theory that people on the whole only act in a good and humane manner when threatened by authority or some other superior power, and I also believe in capital and corporal punishment as a means of imposing that control via fear of punishment.

As such, I can really see both sides of the argument - both the side that Bonesaw is a murderess who deserves nothing less than to be broken upon the wheel, and the side that asserts that she was a child warped and broken by a monster who deserves the opportunity to leave the monster behind. I honestly don't know what decision I would make, if I had someone's life in my hands, especially not someone with the same rap sheet as Bonesaw has, but I suspect I'd choose execution over the chance of redemption.

This most recent chapter, and the bridge it builds between a character I empathize with (Lisa) and the subject, makes it harder to condemn her to the ritual public execution her crimes merit. Riley is a child, and acts like a bratty child, but every one of her interactions is underwritten by the elements of fear and abuse that made her into the thing she is/was. Even the embrace with Lisa at the end of the chapter and Riley's reaction to curling up with a larger person in bed made me think of grooming abuse, although for all of his sins, as far as I know, Jack Slash didn't abuse Riley in that way. By the time she wakes from the nightmare, it's very difficult to reconcill Riley with Bonesaw, and impossible to support the torture and execution of the scared girl for the monster's many and varied crimes.

I just binged this story, so I'll take the moment to say that I really appreciate seeing a story where Emma both remains a major character, and where her friendship with Taylor is preserved. Taylor abused and driven by trauma is, of course, the special sauce of Worm, and a horribly sympathetic and tragic character, but it's nice to see a world where the innocent smiley girl wasn't hurt over and over again.

Great chapter, and excellent story, Ack!

 

[Ack]

Wow... That... was an intense chapter of deprogramming.

First, thank you truly, Ack (both for the quality chapter, and for your continued analysis posts on FC, they improve my enjoyment of each and every chapter).

Second: I'm really torn on Bonesaw. On one hand, I am a lazy person, and a generally forgiving person. As such, once any amount of time passes, I tend to forgive and/or forget people. I also really, really want to believe in redemption, or at the very least, the power of penance. I don't think that I am a good person, and the idea that even the worst people can somehow find a way back to the light makes me feel better about the shit show that is the human condition. On the other hand, I believe in the Hobbnesian social theory that people on the whole only act in a good and humane manner when threatened by authority or some other superior power, and I also believe in capital and corporal punishment as a means of imposing that control via fear of punishment.

As such, I can really see both sides of the argument - both the side that Bonesaw is a murderess who deserves nothing less than to be broken upon the wheel, and the side that asserts that she was a child warped and broken by a monster who deserves the opportunity to leave the monster behind. I honestly don't know what decision I would make, if I had someone's life in my hands, especially not someone with the same rap sheet as Bonesaw has, but I suspect I'd choose execution over the chance of redemption.

This most recent chapter, and the bridge it builds between a character I empathize with (Lisa) and the subject, makes it harder to condemn her to the ritual public execution her crimes merit. Riley is a child, and acts like a bratty child, but every one of her interactions is underwritten by the elements of fear and abuse that made her into the thing she is/was. Even the embrace with Lisa at the end of the chapter and Riley's reaction to curling up with a larger person in bed made me think of grooming abuse, although for all of his sins, as far as I know, Jack Slash didn't abuse Riley in that way. By the time she wakes from the nightmare, it's very difficult to reconcill Riley with Bonesaw, and impossible to support the torture and execution of the scared girl for the monster's many and varied crimes.

I just binged this story, so I'll take the moment to say that I really appreciate seeing a story where Emma both remains a major character, and where her friendship with Taylor is preserved. Taylor abused and driven by trauma is, of course, the special sauce of Worm, and a horribly sympathetic and tragic character, but it's nice to see a world where the innocent smiley girl wasn't hurt over and over again.

Great chapter, and excellent story, Ack!

Click to shrink...

It's canon in Worm that Riley needed to be held by one of the Nine when she slept, whether it be Jack, Siberian or whoever.

 

[Scopas]

It's canon in Worm that Riley needed to be held by one of the Nine when she slept, whether it be Jack, Siberian or whoever.

Click to shrink...

Man, I've forgotten so much of canon Worm. I feel like going back and re-reading it, and listening to the We've Got Worm breakdown again... But I don't think 2020 needs any help being bleak.

That's an interesting tidbit, though. Riley was always the most sympathetic of the Nine, with perhaps Burnscar or Mannequin taking second place in my opinion. The idea that some fragment of the traumatized child that she truly was remained active beneath the years of programming and sadism is... sad, really. Kind of like learning that Ted Bundy could only get a good night's sleep with his childhood teddy or something.

 

[Ack]

Man, I've forgotten so much of canon Worm. I feel like going back and re-reading it, and listening to the We've Got Worm breakdown again... But I don't think 2020 needs any help being bleak.

That's an interesting tidbit, though. Riley was always the most sympathetic of the Nine, with perhaps Burnscar or Mannequin taking second place in my opinion. The idea that some fragment of the traumatized child that she truly was remained active beneath the years of programming and sadism is... sad, really. Kind of like learning that Ted Bundy could only get a good night's sleep with his childhood teddy or something.

Click to shrink...

The Siberian: world's scariest teddybear.

 

[Ack]

One More Trigger

Part Thirty-One: Head Games

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



Something was missing.

Riley wasn't sure what it was, but as she surfaced from an extremely restful sleep, she knew something wasn't there that should have been. It didn't bother her that the person holding her wasn't quite familiar, or that the bed she was sleeping in (as comfortable as it was) didn't feel right. Both those situations were not uncommon to her, as a member of the Nine.

The Nine.

As the last of the sleep-fog cleared from her brain, several facts slid into place with resounding (if silent) clangs. First and foremost was that the Nine were done. Mister Jack had finally collected the wages of sin he'd been accumulating for nearly thirty years, via the introduction of high-velocity buckshot into the eye-socket and the brain beyond. Burnscar was also dead, and Riley herself was a prisoner.

A prisoner who had been turned over to the Samaritans, the team that had beaten the Nine, not once but twice.

Why the PRT had even accepted this as a possibility, she had no idea. Maybe the Samaritans had some kind of pull over the Director? They'd disclaimed any such, but lying to villains about things like family connections was kind of par for the course.

But this wasn't what was wrong. Though … who was holding her?

Lisa. Lisa was the one who was holding her. She'd been having a nightmare, and Lisa had just told her to scoot over and comforted her until she fell asleep again. Which was something Riley was sure no hero would've ever dared—or cared—to do before that point. Not least because her implants would've made short work of anyone who came within arm's reach of her … at least, before Panacea got in on the act.

But even without those, she would've bet large amounts of money (if she ever got any) that nobody aside from the Nine themselves would have bothered comforting her in her nightmares. So, of course Lisa had done that exact thing. To prove her wrong, or because she needed someone close by, Riley wasn't sure which. All she knew was that her sleep had been nightmare-free, and now she was feeling much better.

"Hey," murmured Lisa from behind her. "Got it all figured out yet?"

"All except for why you took me away from the PRT," admitted Riley. Then she paused. "Wait, how did you know I was thinking stuff through?" Lisa had shown herself to be extremely intuitive, but surely that had its limits?

There was a puff of breath on the back of Riley's neck as Lisa chuckled. "I'm psychic."

"I don't believe that." The response was automatic. Riley had dissected the brain of more than one cape and while Thinker capabilities could get up there in the 'bull-hockey' stakes, she'd never encountered one that truly met the criteria for being defined as 'psychic'.

"Arguments from incredulity carry no scientific weight." Lisa seemed to be holding back amusement.

"I still don't believe it." Riley wasn't sure why she was being so stubborn about this, but it was something she could make a stand on that didn't affect her in the long term. "Thinker capabilities are always constrained in some way. Pure psychic abilities wouldn't be. Your power is lying to you."

Lisa paused for a moment. When she spoke, her tone was more thoughtful. "You think our powers can lie to us?"

Riley had had enough of carrying on a conversation with her back to someone. She wriggled and squirmed around until she was facing Lisa, in the meantime waking up some aches and pains that she knew darn well were going to be shouting for her attention when she got up for real. "You think they can't?" she countered. "I've made a study of powers, and Mister Jack says—said—that capes are inherently predictable. He was always able to figure out what they'd do in the long run, and sometimes in the short run too. If our powers can influence what we do to the point where he could figure them out, why can't they lie to us?"

And there was the thing that was missing. When she said his name out loud, Riley instinctively asked herself what does he want me to do? and for the first time since she'd become Bonesaw, there wasn't anything there. It was a weird sensation, not unlike probing the gap of a newly-missing tooth with her tongue.

"I honestly don't know," Lisa said. "That's something I'm going to have to think about. And by the way, in case you're wondering; my power isn't lying to me about being psychic. I was lying to you about it. Like I said yesterday, I can see the shape of your thoughts, but not the thoughts themselves."

There were footsteps on the stairs, and Riley looked up to see someone's legs come into view. She hadn't heard the basement door open, which meant that they'd been extra careful to be quiet, or they'd just oiled up the hinges. Wafting down into the basement came the smell of delicious eggs and bacon.

"Really? That old saw again, Athena?" It was Ladybug, and she had an amused look on her face. "Seriously, you've been telling every hero and villain in the whole city that you were psychic, just to mess with their heads." There was a glass of orange juice in her hand, that she sipped from.

"And I still don't know why you don't," Lisa retorted, sitting up on the bed. "You could pull it off a lot better than me, that's for sure."

"Well, that's because I'm not psychic." Ladybug lowered herself into the armchair, careful not to disturb Lisa's phone where it still sat on the arm.

"Really?" Lisa's tone was challenging. "How many people are on the street within one block of this house?"

"Sixteen," Ladybug replied at once. "Eleven men and five women. Should I include the three PRT agents in the van down the street where they think we haven't spotted them yet? Because that'll make it thirteen men and six women."

"And thus, my point is proven," Lisa observed, throwing a smirk to Riley. "Not psychic, my ass."

"So what is your range with those bugs?" asked Riley, curious despite herself. "Mister Jack wasn't sure, but he figured it was between four and five blocks."

Ladybug smiled at the same time that Lisa chuckled out loud. The bug controller took another sip from her glass of juice, her eyes hooded. "On the one hand, that's fairly accurate. On the other … I've basically got the whole city covered. Every bug from Downtown to the Boat Graveyard, from the Boardwalk to Captain's Hill, is under my personal and direct control. I was able to track you from halfway across the city to Winslow, every step of the way."

Riley knew what bragging and exaggeration sounded like, and this wasn't bragging and exaggeration. Ladybug was stating a simple fact, and also throwing out a simple warning; if you run, you can't hide. I will find you.

"Every bug, right across the city?" She wanted to object to the claim, but everything they'd said so far had been backed up by the facts. "How bad are your Thinker headaches, and why do you say it's accurate then talk about how you can cover the whole city?"

Lisa wrinkled her nose at that. "She doesn't get Thinker headaches, no matter how many bugs she takes on board. It's very unfair."

"What, none at all?" Riley stared at Ladybug. "How do you even manage that?"

"I have no idea." Ladybug shrugged. "I just don't, is all. Maybe it's got something to do with how I've had to actually learn to decipher their senses instead of getting it all at once. But I could make every bug in the city take off right now and skywrite rude words if I wanted. Director Piggot would probably have an aneurysm, so I won't. But I could."

"Yeah, how do you do that?" Riley sat up and leaned forward eagerly. "Cover the whole city, I mean. Was it a second trigger?"

"Nope. It was Panacea." Ladybug drank some more of her juice. "She and I also have an amazing power synergy. Turns out she can make bugs that extend my range. I've got them spotted all over the city, every few blocks."

Riley frowned. "How long did it take for you to set that up? Did you have it in place before we even arrived in the city? I can't see that Director of yours being okay with that." She would've added more descriptive phrases regarding Piggot, but that wasn't what a good girl (or a smart prisoner) did.

"Yeah, she's all of that and more." Lisa smirked again. "But as for the setup, that was something else altogether. When we found out you were in town, we started planning hard, and one part of the plan involved the relay bugs. Covering the city took me and Panacea one entire night and put her out of action the next day, but it was so worth it in the long run."

The implications were coming together for Riley, and they were painting a picture she didn't like. "And the bugs you used to take down Mister Jack and me and Mannequin ... Panacea made them all specifically to take us down?"

"Well, yeah." Ladybug's tone said duh, very clearly. "And the second time around, you were expecting bugs, and you prepped for bugs ... so we used the bugs as decoys."

"Because, you know, you went to all that trouble making the bug bombs, and we didn't want you feeling like it was all for nothing." Lisa's level of smugness increased considerably. "In the meantime, Ladybug was tracking you with bugs you couldn't see, that were basically immune to the pyrethrin. Because Panacea is awesome."

Riley followed that thought through to its inevitable conclusion. As distasteful as it was to admit defeat, in this case she couldn't really dispute the fact that Mister Jack had been played. That the two separate defeats of the Nine at the hands of the Samaritans had little to do with luck and everything to do with preparation and training.

"Well, poop," she said eventually. "And I thought I was being so smart, too. Did you know about the prions ahead of time?"

"Nope." Ladybug finished off her juice. "That was kind of a horrible surprise. But we've trained for scenarios where we lose our powers. Just like we've trained for people suddenly being Mastered, and for someone just falling over in their tracks. The why doesn't matter; if one of the Dad Brigade, or even one of us, thinks of a scenario we haven't trained for, it gets figured out and incorporated into the regime."

Lisa snickered. "Can you imagine the looks on the faces of the Wards when Vista goes back and tells them what she's been learning?" She bumped Riley with her shoulder. "I mean, munchkin here made it a mile on her first try; do Clockblocker or Kid Win even look like they could run that far?"

"No, no, no," Ladybug said. "Think of the look on the face of the first villain she confronts when she gets back to the Wards. They're not gonna know what hit 'em."

Much as it went against the grain to agree with superheroes on anything, Riley had to admit that the tall brunette had a distinct point. Vista (for all that she liked flying unicorns on her pyjamas) was extremely on task when it came to getting the job done. She'd watched the Ward sparring with the other members of the Samaritans, and come away with the impression that anyone who went up against her in an actual fight would still be wondering which way was up five minutes after they'd had their butts handed to them. And if they tried to use an actual weapon against her, it would go even worse for them.

"Well, true," agreed Lisa. "But I'm guessing you came down here to see if we were awake, and to call us up for breakfast?"

"Got it in one. Think fast." Ladybug scooped up Lisa's phone and tossed it to her as she got up off the chair.

"Thank you." Lisa snagged it out of the air, then stood up off the bed and ruffled Riley's already-tousled ringlets. "C'mon, trouble. Let's go hit the bathroom, then have breakfast. Delta makes the best omelettes."

Riley wanted to make a snarky comment about how it seemed the man called 'Delta' could murder unhatched birds just as easily as he could murder helpless prisoners like Mister Jack, but it didn't seem right somehow. It was hard to push back against the camaraderie and inclusiveness that the Samaritans were bringing to bear on her. In the Nine, it had been very much a case of 'pull your own weight or you're not one of us". Here it was, "Hey, you do you." The utter lack of overbearing pressure to perform to expectations was … weird. Unsettling, even.

As she headed upstairs with Lisa, leg muscles creaking from the aftermath of the day before, she was still trying to figure out whether the comfortable bed and the good night's sleep actually made up for the weirdness.

<><>​

"Good morning, Riley, Athena." The man named 'Delta' gave her a non-committal smile as he put a plate of bacon and omelette before her. He didn't seem angry about the clash of words they'd had the night before; it was like it had never happened. In the meantime, the food smelled amazing.

"Morning, Delta." Lisa gave him a beaming smile. "Oh, just by the way, I told Riley my real name last night. Seemed easier that way."

"Suit yourself," he said. "Oh, and Riley? Ladybug and I had a little discussion over our argument last night. You're a sharp kid, so I wouldn't be surprised if you'd noticed."

And there was the other shoe. Riley began to wonder just how big and heavy and spiky it was going to be when it landed on her. "And?" she responded, as diffidently as she knew how. Maybe if she didn't snap back, they'd let her have some of the omelette before they sent her back to the PRT.

"And," he said, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, "my darling daughter has impressed upon me the need to not only give you a stable home life, but to make it clear to you that this is an ongoing situation. I also want to apologise not for my words but for my tone. This is still a very new situation for the both of us, and given your social situation for the last six years, I can understand how all of this might make you feel threatened."

What's going on here? She searched his face for any kind of duplicity or hidden malice. People didn't apologise to her, especially ones who were in a position of power over her. But he looked sufficiently awkward for it not to be a trick, and Ladybug was watching her to see how she reacted. Lisa, an expectant expression on her face, looked from her to Delta and back again.

"… what do you want me to say?" she asked in the end. None of her experience in the Nine had prepared her for this sort of thing. If the lack of outside pressure was weird, getting an apology from one of the guys in charge was downright surreal.

Delta went to speak, but Lisa put up her hand and he closed his mouth again. This fascinated Riley; she knew that Delta could give Lisa orders, and yet here she was basically telling him to shut up. The group dynamics here were bizarre as heck. She looked over to Lisa, still a little surprised that Delta hadn't exerted his authority over her.

"That's not how we do things around here." As always, Lisa's words addressed Riley's unspoken thoughts as well as her spoken question. Reaching across, she captured Riley's hand in hers. "You say what you want to say. You say what you need to say. Last night, you and Delta traded some pretty harsh words. That's your right, and his too. Now, Delta's addressed that, and the floor's open for you to say something, or make it clear you don't want to talk about it. Or, you know, you can ask me to pass the salt. But whatever you say, we're not gonna punish you for simply speaking your mind. We might not agree with it, and arguments might still happen, but nobody here's gonna ignore what you've got to say or jump down your throat just because of who you once were. That's not what we do. Trust me on this."

Belatedly, Riley recalled that Lisa had said she was an ex-villain fleeing from a bad situation, who had helped bring down her old boss. She'd come to the Samaritans as a refugee instead of a prisoner, but they still could've treated her like the villain she once was. Instead, even Riley could see that she was accepted by them and treated as one of their number. If anyone could be trusted to provide an insight into this situation, it was her.

"Okay …" Riley looked at Delta. "I'm not saying I was wrong in what I said last night, but I was deliberately trying to get under your skin, and I shouldn't have done that." She took a deep breath. "Was Mister Jack really trying to cut Ladybug's throat?"

Again, the conditioned reflex cut in, and she asked herself what would Mister Jack want me to do? And once more, there was no answer, no knowledge of what she was supposed to be doing. She caught sight of Lisa raising one eyebrow slightly, and wondered what that was about.

"He'd dropped his knife when I shot him in the chest," Delta said without emotion. "There was barely any blood. Ladybug was close by, and he'd just finished making threats against her life. He was conscious and aware that I had him at gunpoint, and he was still reaching for the knife. He was not making any move to surrender. I sincerely believe he would've tried to kill everyone if he'd gotten his hand on that knife."

Well, when he puts it that way …

Riley liked to think she'd known Mister Jack better than most. Surrender really wasn't a thing she could ever see him doing. He'd long held the attitude that nobody was faster, smarter or more ruthless than him, especially when it came to capes. Normals, he just killed.

Except …

… she wanted to be mad at the Samaritans for killing him, but a tiny voice deep down, one that was getting louder all the time, kept telling her that they had played by his rules, and beaten him fair and square. He really wouldn't have given up. Allowed half a chance, he would've kept trying to fight back until he won or was killed. And Delta had chosen to kill him.

A momentary flash of insight made her frown. She had participated in many of Mister Jack's little 'games' over the last few years. Up until now, she'd seen them as fun and interesting, giving the hero capes a chance to fight back and maybe even win against the Nine. They never did, of course. Mister Jack had carelessly explained how this was because they just weren't up to scratch. The Nine, he'd pointed out, was clearly the superior team.

Only, it hadn't been. Looking back, she could now see the horrible inequity in the 'contests' Mister Jack had set up, where the odds were severely stacked against the hometown capes. Worse, whenever they got lucky enough to eliminate a member of the Nine, Jack unilaterally decided they were cheating and moved against them in force. Why didn't I ever see this before?

"You okay there, Riley?" asked Ladybug.

"I'm fine," she lied. This was something she needed to work out within her own mind. Even now, despite being almost certain that Lisa was on her side in all this (even if she had no idea of the motives of the others) she didn't want to expose the vulnerability of her self-doubt to her captors. "Could you pass the salt, please?"

Because a good girl was polite and said 'please' and 'thank you'.

The look Lisa gave Riley made her wonder if the other girl could actually read her thoughts after all. But then Ladybug passed her the salt, and the moment was gone.

It turned out Lisa was right about something else. Delta really could make an outstanding omelette.

Or maybe it was just average (her treacherous thoughts suggested) and Mister Jack had never been able to cook.

Either way, in the midst of her enemies or not, she was definitely going to enjoy it.

<><>​

PRT ENE
Director Piggot's Office
Friday, April 29, 2011
Flechette

"Enter."

Lily opened the door and stepped inside. At the far side of the office, silhouetted against what was almost certainly a high-end polycarbonate matrix window, was the bulky form of the woman she'd come to see. Taking a deep breath to contain her anger, she marched up to the desk, folded papers in her right hand. Don't yell at her … don't yell at her … don't yell at her …

Director Piggot gazed up at her imperturbably. She didn't invite Lily to take a seat; not that Lily would've been inclined to, right then.

After waiting for a few seconds for the Director to say something, Lily spoke instead. "Director Piggot … has my performance with the Wards been problematic? Have I broken the law, or violated regulations in some way that I have not yet been informed of?"

"No." The neutrality of Piggot's tone would've suited someone pointing out that it was not, in fact, raining outside. "Your performance has been within expectations."

Still, she didn't ask Lily why she was there, which meant she knew, and she was forcing Lily to say it.

"If that's the case, Director, why does it feel like I am being punished for something I haven't done?" Lily placed the folded sheets of paper on the desk, careful not to slap them down or energise them. As entertaining as it would be to watch Piggot attempt to deal with two halves of a desk, such an action would be extremely inadvisable at any time.

Piggot's eyebrows rose a fraction. "Punished? I authorised no punishment for you. What makes you think you're being punished?"

She didn't reach for the papers, or ask for them to be moved closer. Because, Lily knew, she was assuredly aware of their contents.

Lily knew she was being played. Piggot was an absolute master of this game. She'd been playing it since long before any of the Wards had had their powers, after all. Step by step, each move pre-planned like a chessmaster. Piggot had the power. She owned the board.

Still, if Lily said or did nothing, Piggot won by default. She had to at least try.

"Why am I being transferred to the Miami Wards then, if not as a punishment?" She tried for an even tone, not shrill or whiny. Matter-of-fact. An adult in training, so to speak. She'd turned eighteen not long before, but they were retaining her in the Wards for awhile longer to obscure any connection with her birthdate. It was not an uncommon practice.

Now Piggot's brows dropped slightly, outlining the merest suggestion of a frown. The woman was an artist with them. "Punishment? I wasn't aware that Miami was considered such a hardship posting that it could be seen as a punishment. This is merely a routine reassignment. Not your first, as I understand matters."

Lily breathed deeply through her nostrils, seeking the zen calm she felt just before she attempted a difficult shot with her arbalest. It was absolutely typical of the PRT to capitalise on her orphan status to move her hither and yon across the map, filling in where she was needed. Of course, up until now she hadn't been worried about it. Never staying long enough in any one place to form attachments, she'd even been content in a way.

That had been before she met Sabah at that dance, and saved her life. Now, they were … much more than friends. There were no regulations against Wards having age-appropriate romantic attachments outside of work (if only because any attempt to actually enact such regulations would have Youth Guard descending upon that PRT branch like Behemoth with a grudge) but at the same time, the PRT would've been happy if such a thought never crossed the minds of their precious little angels.

"Well, no," Lily conceded. "But … I don't want to go. I like it here in Brockton Bay. Besides, the grapevine says Lung will be ready to be shipped to the Birdcage soon, and surely we're going to need all hands on deck for that."

Over the past few months, Lung had been under heavy guard in the PRT's prison infirmary as he healed up from the damage done to him by Sparx, of the then-yet-unformed Team Samaritan. Normally, the dragon-themed parahuman was known to regenerate injuries much more quickly, but it was suspected the sustained jolt she'd put through him had seared his nervous system to ash and done serious damage to his corona pollentia. Panacea had apparently flat-out refused to even attempt to heal him. Lily didn't blame her.

Piggot's lips tightened visibly at the reference to the PRT's extremely active rumour mill. "This is true," she allowed. "However, it is most likely that Oni Lee will be attempting to whip up fervour in the Asian community, possibly as a cover for the ABB to break Lung out of the transport. I will not send children into that kind of situation, and the fact that you share an ethnic background with some of the groups involved will not endear you to them. Some will see you as a traditional enemy to be targeted, while others will lash out at you as a traitor to your people. Trust me, you going out there will not help matters."

"Then put me on the Boardwalk stopping muggers, to free up manpower elsewhere," Lily said promptly. "The ABB can't foster race riots everywhere."

"We won't be short-handed." Piggot's tone was deceptively bland. I've made up my mind on this. "Director Partridge will be sending me Wavefront. I've heard good things about him."

It was like punching fog. Every point she tried to make simply failed to connect. Still, she owed it to herself and Sabah to keep trying. Drawing a deep breath, she did her best to centre herself. "Director Piggot, I don't want to go to Miami. I want to stay right here in Brockton Bay."

Piggot's gaze was even blander than before, as was her tone. "That's interesting. I hadn't heard of any particular reason you might feel that way."

Which meant she most certainly had, but she was going to make Lily spell it out for her. Right in that moment, Lily discovered that it was indeed possibly to simultaneously hate someone and admire them for their technique. In all honesty, it shouldn't have really come as a surprise. Piggot was already known to be a hardass b-word (Sabah disliked that word, so Lily was trying to moderate her own language), but what everyone had thought to be sheer natural talent was turning out to be a matter of applied skill as well.

There was nothing else for it. She was going to have to follow the script as laid out by the Director. "I'm seeing someone. This isn't just some fling. We're pretty serious."

"Really?" Piggot affected interest for the first time. "Does he know you're a Ward? Because that sort of secret can be problematic in a relationship."

By now, Lily was utterly certain she was being toyed with. But she didn't dare lash back, lest she give Piggot a ready-made excuse to crack down on her. The trouble was, she had no idea about the Director's views on same-sex relationships. "It's not a he, it's a she. I'm dating another woman. And yes, she does know. She doesn't have a problem with it."

"Indeed." Piggot clasped her hands on the desk and leaned forward slightly. "That's very interesting. How long have you been in this relationship? Just so I can check up on when your change-of-status paperwork was filed, and find out why nobody informed me of this before I set up your transfer."

This had to be where the Director had been leading her all this time, Lily realised, though she didn't quite understand why. While the PRT couldn't ban Wards from exploring extracurricular activities, it did require (in the name of personal security) that a form be completed when they entered a personal relationship outside the group (Lily suspected that the PRT would then carry out a complete background check). Given the byzantine rules and regulations encircling the Wards, they could not be compelled to fill out this form (which included the name and address of the other half of the relationship), so Lily had not. Neither could they be punished for being in such a relationship and not filling one out.

Officially, anyway.

"I … haven't filed paperwork about it," Lily said reluctantly. "It never seemed important enough." Plus there was the fact that Sabah was a rogue. In the eyes of the PRT, a cape who took money to do what they did was only one bad day from going full ham villain; a trope unfortunately mirrored in TV shows and movies.

"Well, that's a shame," the Director said faux-brightly. "If you'd ever gotten around to doing so, I would have been aware that you have ties here in the city, and I would of course have nominated someone else for the transfer. Unfortunately, the paperwork has already gone through."

This couldn't be it. Piggot had to have a deeper motive than just wanting to break up her relationship by sending her down to Miami. As much as she was rumoured to dislike capes, that act alone would be supremely petty. "Is there any way we can change it? I mean, I haven't gone yet, and I really don't want to go."

Piggot tilted her head, her gaze suddenly sharp. "Well, that depends. Are there any details about your relationship which may warrant the time and effort to retrieve that paperwork from the system and reverse an official decision?"

And there it was. The light clicked on over Lily's head and she saw all. Somehow, the Director already knew she was dating Parian, and wanted the puppet cape in the Wards or Protectorate, whichever she would be best suited for. But instead of attempting to simply draft Sabah into the Wards (an act which, absent any criminal activities or time of emergency, would be highly illegal) she'd clearly had the idea to use Lily's relationship with her as leverage.

Worse, she hadn't even been sloppy or hasty about it. She had carefully crossed all the T's and dotted all the I's, biding her time until Lily and Sabah were definitely confirmed in their relationship. This wasn't a one-off desperation grab. Piggot had been playing the long game since that night when Lily and Sabah had ended up together. At some point in the recent past, possibly when Lily had turned eighteen, she'd set about arranging the transfer, knowing full-well what the reaction would be.

Well, fuck you. Lily met Piggot's shrewd gaze, aware that the Director probably knew she'd figured out what the play was, but leaning into the precise bodily control gifted by her power to not to show the older woman just how pissed-off she really was. Not enough to attack the Director, of course; Piggot had likely calculated the chances of that before she'd ever set this in motion. But pissed off all the same.

In a distant, emotionless corner of her brain, Lily had to admire how carefully the Director had arranged the whole situation. Each step had played out smoothly enough for any outside observer to be fooled into believing it was entirely natural. Or, if (like Lily) they were convinced it was a set-up, there was literally no way to prove it. In the absence of overt coercion, it technically wasn't even illegal.

The worst part of all this was, if Lily asked Sabah to join the Protectorate to be with her, there was a good chance she would. She also had no doubt that if asked, Piggot would jigger the paperwork so they wouldn't be split up (a team-within-a-team like Assault and Battery was always good to have) but the fact would remain that, however smooth and legal this was, it was still a press-gang. And she was entirely unwilling to pull that shit on Sabah.

Which meant she'd have to find another solution.

"I'm going to need a little while to think about that, ma'am," she said carefully.

Piggot nodded once, her face showing not one sign of the triumph Lily knew she had to be feeling. "Take all the time you want," she allowed generously. "Until next Friday, of course." Which was the date of Lily's transfer.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am." Lily turned and walked out. She was quite pleased with herself over the fact that she hadn't slammed the door behind her.

<><>​

Evening of the 29th​
Northern Ferry Terminal
Ladybug

Taylor got out of the car and stretched, then pulled her helmet and goggles over her head. "It's all clear, guys," she assured the others. "Nobody to see us inside three blocks."

"Never doubted you," Emma said as she got out as well. Her mask on, she looked around, surveying the dilapidated buildings and general run-down air of the district. "Is it just me, or is this a real shithole?"

"Be nice." Danny got out, pulling a bandanna up to cover his mouth and nose. On his head, he wore a tactical helmet with a flipped-up night-vision monocular. "People used to live and work here before, and they can do it again." Going around to the trunk, he popped it open and took out his shotgun, which he slung over his shoulder.

"And after tonight, that day will be that little bit sooner." Alan Barnes, from the next car over, joined him at the trunk and retrieved his own shotgun as well as Rod Clements'. "The Merchants need to learn that they're entirely unwelcome in Brockton Bay."

Vicky, who'd been riding in the second car along with Lisa, Amy and Riley, took to the air and scanned the general area. "So we're really going to do this? We're going to fuck up the Merchants once and for all?"

Vista, standing beside Rod Clements' car, tightened the chin-strap on her visor. "I don't see why not. They've been begging for it more or less since day one, and the only reason we haven't done it so far is that there was always a more high-value target."

"What I want to know is, why am I here?" Riley had regained some of her previous confidence, though even Taylor could tell much of it was an act. Amy had given her a makeover, reshaping her face to be less cherubic and gifting her with a short-cut mop of black hair to replace the blonde ringlets. "It's not like I've got any powers to help out with. And if I did, you wouldn't trust me to not attack you with them."

"You're here as an observer." Madison strolled up alongside Riley, the multiple layers of her spider silk costume wafting gently in the light breeze. "To learn how we do what we do, so if and when we accept you into the team fully, you'll be up to scratch." She cheerfully bumped her elbow against Riley's. "Just remember, this was all your idea."

Riley gave her a dirty look. "I'm not about to forget it. Every time you turn around, you guys make me and the Nine look like total amateurs."

"You're not the only ones." Vista put a companionable arm around Riley's shoulders. "Before I became the liaison, they showed up the Wards a couple of times. I love being part of this team."

Lisa snickered. "Oh, god, you should've seen the time the Undersiders tried robbing a bank where those three were making a deposit. They owned us like we were bought and paid for."

"I know, right?" Amy gave Lisa a side-hug, and got one back in return. "I was in the bank, remember? That was a wake-up call for me."

"All right then," Emma declared, cutting across the side chatter. "We'll be going in standard loose assault formation. Glory Girl, you know what you're doing?"

"Sure thing, o captain my captain." Vicky dashed off a vaguely military salute. "Stick in close, don't go too high so I don't spook 'em, and retrieval of anyone who looks like getting away from Ladybug. Also, working with Vista to deal with Squealer's vehicles when she comes at us."

"Perfect." Emma smiled. "Now, Athena and Asset One—" that was the designation they'd settled on for Dinah Alcott when anyone not a full member of the team were in earshot "—have pinpointed their stash houses and production facilities, so we'll hit them one at a time. Ladybug concurs that the first one is three blocks west of here. Let's go."

Vista's phone rang. She looked around and mouthed "sorry" as she pulled it out of its pouch. Glancing at the display, she frowned then swiped the answer icon.

"Ah, hi, Flechette, what's the matter?"

<><>​

Flechette

Perched on the edge of a rooftop, Lily glanced around. Kid Win had sat down on his hoverboard and was fiddling with one of his laser pistols. As she watched, a spark popped and smoke drifted upward. She dragged her attention back to what she was saying.

"… so if I don't ask Parian to join the Wards, she'll send me off to Miami, and if I do, I just know Parian will do it for me but she'll be unhappy. And I don't want any of that."

"Okay …" Vista sounded like she was thinking. "Have you had the chance to look through the rules and regulations that cover Wards, such as quitting?"

"First thing I did," Lily said. "But the rules are so twisty and self-referential that I'm scared if I try anything, the Director will be able to quote something to override me."

Another voice cut in. This was a male voice, adult. "Hello, Flechette. You can call me Alpha. I'm a friend of Vista's. I presume there's a contract involved, which was signed before you turned eighteen?"

She took a deep breath. "Yes, yes, there was. But I'm eighteen now. I looked it up, and once I turned eighteen it became binding."

"Yes, that's true in most circumstances." Alpha sounded like he was smiling. "If you could furnish Vista with a copy of your contract, I would be willing to look it over for a minor consideration. Say, an autographed photo?"

Flechette blinked. "I, uh, sure! Thank you, uh, Alpha."

"You are entirely welcome, young lady. Once you can furnish Vista with that information, I shall see what I can do. I'm giving the phone back to Vista now."

With her heart pounding in her chest, Lily exchanged a few more words with Vista then ended the call. She'd picked Vista to call because she was the only other girl in the Wards and had seemed to well and truly have her shit together on the few times they'd spoken, and also because she'd managed to score the liaison position with Team Samaritan. The decision seemed to have paid off in spades.

Taking a deep breath and trying to calm herself down, she got up and waved Kid Win over. "Okay, we can keep going now."

"Cool, cool." He began to pack away his miniature toolkit. "Everything okay?"

She nodded and smiled. "I'm beginning to think it might be."

<><>​

Sparx, a Little While Later

Screaming something entirely incoherent though probably quite obscene, Skidmark popped up in the middle of Emma's area of effect. His hands glowed and he went to throw down a field, but she put a couple of tendrils around his wrists and applied just enough electricity to spark off every nerve from his elbows to his fingertips. His hands were left jittering like ferrets on speed, throwing off purple and blue sparks but nothing coherent enough to matter. A moment later, one of Amy's nighty-night bugs found him. It took two stings to get past his artificially induced drug resistance, but he crumpled all the same.

More bugs swept the area of the current battle. While Lisa and Riley watched from off to the side, Danny and Alan escorted Amy in to where Skidmark lay unconscious. When they got there, Amy leaned over and reinforced the unconsciousness, then with Alan guarding, they duct-taped his hands behind his back and his ankle to a convenient parking meter. The last thing they wanted was for the foul-mouthed drug dealer to wake up at the wrong moment and skid-field his way out of there.

Emma kept moving, past Mush's unconscious (and similarly duct-taped) body, and the equally unconscious two dozen or so Merchant mooks who'd thought it was a good idea to get in on the battle. Around the corner of the now sadly-battered main stash house, the battle was winding down.

Squealer, predictably enough, had come roaring in with a large over-gunned invisible vehicle. Some of Taylor's bugs had ended up inside the cloaking field, and she'd been able to throw up large arrows, pointing directly at it. With that for a cue, Vicky was flying in, ripping bits off and then flying out again. It turned out that Emma wasn't the only one who could generate electricity; if Vicky stayed inside the cloaking field, she got zapped by something that apparently stung a lot. In addition, it left her hair standing up all over her head.

Finally recognising that yes, the Merchants were screwed, Squealer was now trying to make her escape. Vista had paused from her newfound hobby of using the landscape to beat up the Merchants, and commenced using that same landscape to beat up the tank. In her capable hands, light poles thickened to a grotesque degree then slammed down on Squealer's creation, dealing great hammer blows to it. Minor potholes suddenly gaped wide and deep, and bumps swelled into monoliths capable of blocking the way of a main battle tank, much less Squealer's less than impressive ride.

With a final shattering crash, Vicky tore off the entire side panel, then flew in and hauled out a struggling (and almost equally foul-mouthed) Squealer. She flew her prisoner down to ground level, expertly frisked her (relieving her of several interesting tools and weapons) then held her so that Taylor could knock her out with a bug. Rod Clements promptly duct-taped the Tinker's hands behind her back.

Despite the fact that nothing was moving on the battlefield, nobody relaxed. Danny looked to Taylor. "Clear?"

She took a moment, turning her head as though she were listening. Emma was aware that swarms were covering the area all the way around, sweeping back and forth until no area that a human could hide in was left unchecked. A buzzing drone marked the passage of yet another swarm checking the airspace overhead.

Finally, she nodded to him. "Clear."

They gathered their prisoners together, and Missy pulled out her phone to call the PRT. As she did so, Riley left off watching as Amy checked all the unpowered prisoners for hidden injuries and turned to Emma.

"This is what you were talking about with all that training, right? No matter what they did, you had a counter."

"That's the general idea, yes." Emma gave the girl about three-quarters of her attention; one-quarter went with the thousands of tendrils she still had spread about the place, keeping tabs on every last downed Merchant in the area. If even one was faking it, she'd know it before anyone else. "Our dads don't want us getting hurt, so they try to make the training harder than the fighting. This was about as easy as actual cape combat goes."

"Yeah, but …" Riley shook her head in frustration. "You've only got one Alexandria package, and she held back until you said to move in. Nobody went for a grandstanding move. And you still cleaned their clocks in less than five minutes. Without killing anyone. Who even does that?"

In lieu of an answer, Emma raised her eyebrows and gestured for Taylor and Madison to step in. "That's easy," said Madison.

"We can, so we do," Taylor finished. The hum of bugs all around merely emphasized her statement.

"Right, right." Riley gestured at the secured villains. "You said yourselves that these guys are bottom of the heap. Why did you go after them? Is anyone even going to notice?"

Lisa grinned. "Yeah. The next gangs in line. See, this is more than a simple clean-up operation that should've been carried out long ago." She paused for a dramatic beat. "It's also a message."



End of Part Thirty-One

 

[meloa789]

I am glad to see this back.

Also one thing I am very curious about this story. Danny and the other fathers seem to know a lot about military tactics. Any particular reason for that?

 

[Scopas]

Woohoo! Glad to see this one get an update! I'd honestly kinda forgotten about it, but that just gave me an excuse for a re-read. Very fun.

I'm glad someone finally lanced the boil that are the Merchants. They truly are the syphilis of Brockton Bay - easily dealt with in the early stages with some proactive care, but an absolute rot and potentially fatal source of disease if left unchecked for too long.

 

[Ack]

I am glad to see this back.

Also one thing I am very curious about this story. Danny and the other fathers seem to know a lot about military tactics. Any particular reason for that?

Click to shrink...

Lots and lots of study, and bouncing ideas off each other. Also, they may have been wargamers in their youth.

 

[1oldman]

Its definitely a message, but I wonder what the butcher will think that message is

 

[Ack]

One More Trigger

Part Thirty-Two: Who to Turn to

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


Boardwalk
Saturday, April 30, 2011
06:13 AM Eastern Daylight Time

Parian

Sabah hummed to herself as she rode the oversized gorilla down the street, the six-legged horse clomping along behind her with the equipment packed into the saddlebags. She paused to watch for traffic, then had the gorilla knuckle its way across the street to the Boardwalk proper with the horse following behind. People turned and pointed; some waved and she waved back, knowing they couldn't see her smile behind the doll-face mask.

The gorilla put her down at the spot on the Boardwalk she reserved every Saturday for her stall and she began to set it up, assisted by the gorilla when it came to the heavy lifting. She'd once been told by a satisfied customer that she should be selling her wares from an actual brick-and-mortar shop, but she knew such an endeavour would involve far more cash through-flow than she was making right then. More to the point, she just wasn't ready for the debts she knew such a venue would entail before she ever started making a profit.

And then, of course, there were the NEPEA provisions. While she confined her business to a weekend stall performing puppet shows and selling dolls, along with the occasional advertising gig, nobody important paid any attention. Once she graduated from her fashion design course, if she then attempted to sell clothing via a daily business with the majority of employees and shareholders—embodied in herself—being parahuman, someone might choose to take notice.

She knew NEPEA-5 was a measure for safeguarding the economy; specifically, so that uniquely talented parahumans didn't force mundane skilled workers out of the market by undercutting prices then suddenly quit to leave a gaping hole where a service had previously been provided. I'm sure Brockton Bay would survive with one fewer bespoke clothier. But whether they were justified or not, the levies involved would make it impossible for her to stay afloat on her own. Until the name of Parian became truly well-known in the clothing world, her best bet would be to let herself be hired on by a mundane firm and make her mark that way.

Still, that day was far in the future, and so for the moment she was satisfied with her little stall.

As she finished constructing the stall itself and hung the pre-made dolls across the top, she glanced around. Lily knew she was down here every Saturday morning, and usually managed to get herself onto the weekend Boardwalk patrol rosters so they could at least say hi to each other. As a strictly neutral rogue cape, Sabah did her best to keep out of the hero/villain dichotomy, but all the same she knew it was a bad idea to advertise the fact she was dating a Ward. Some capes respected that sort of thing and knew not to step over the line, while others … didn't.

Not having caught sight of a purple costume with white metal highlights, she positioned the horse and gorilla on either side of the stall, then sat on the folding chair behind the small folding table. While her fine control with her animated creations wasn't enough for the gorilla to attempt juggling or anything similarly complex, it could count on its fingers or play patty-cake with itself. On the other side of her, the horse performed a passable attempt at a soft-shoe shuffle, adapted for six legs.

Time passed. She sat, hands folded, while the needle and thread danced through the frilly cloth, and her latest doll took form in front of her. A couple stopped by, watched for a few minutes, then wandered onward. Someone bought a doll for their kid, who hugged it to herself and ran off. Sabah put the money in her cash-box, gave change, and continued to work on the doll in front of her.

A couple of hours later, she began to consider the idea of shutting the stall down for fifteen minutes so she could go and buy a kebab from a stall just down the way; the wind was wafting the scent in her direction, and it was making her stomach rumble. She'd sold a few more dolls in the interim, but it seemed the initial rush was gone, and there wasn't anyone near the stall at the moment.

Just as she began to stand up, a man wearing the red and green of the ABB more or less came out of nowhere and planted himself in front of her ad hoc work desk. "You!" he shouted. "You will pay protection to Oni Lee!"

"I … what?" This made no sense. Where she was on the Boardwalk, she was nowhere near the new boundaries of the ABB, where they'd shrunk to since Lung had been captured. Besides, she didn't even identify as Asian in the same way that the ABB did. Basra was in the Middle East, not the Far East. While the rumour was that the ABB did demand 'protection' money, it was from their own businesses in their own area.

And then Oni Lee himself appeared before her stall. Menacing fanged mask, black bodysuit, all of it. "You will pay protection to the ABB." Sabah could hear the menace in the accented voice. "Here is a taste of what could happen if you do not." In his hand was a black metal cylinder. He tossed it into the stall alongside her, a metal lever flying off it.

That's a grenade. He just threw a grenade at me.

People were shouting, but she wasn't listening. She made the gorilla pick her up out of the stall and toss her away from it; the horse had cantered around to cushion her fall. After that, the ape grabbed the stall and collapsed it over the grenade, then threw itself on top to hold everything down.

The explosion, when it came, wasn't as intense as she'd expected. It destroyed the stall and table, and badly damaged the ape, but there wasn't any kind of flying shrapnel, which she'd been most scared of. Even the ringing in her ears wasn't as bad as it might have been. Panting, she stared through the eyeholes of her mask at the wisp of smoke curling up from the wreckage of nearly everything she'd brought to the Boardwalk. It wouldn't wipe her savings out to replace it all, but those dolls represented hours of work.

"Hey, are you okay?" Willing hands helped her to her feet. She looked into the concerned faces of a young couple. "I can't believe they just did that!"

"But …" she was still bewildered, the reality of her brush with death yet to sink in. "Why?"

"I have no idea, honey," said the woman, guiding her to a nearby bench. "Just sit down here before you fall down again. Have you done something to upset him, like sell stupid-looking Lung dolls or anything like that?"

"First time I ever saw him in real life," the man said apropos of nothing, as Sabah was still searching for words. "Tossed the grenade, then went over there and foomp, he was a pile of ash."

Staring around, Sabah caught sight of the pile of white ash he was talking about, even now being blown about by the wind. "I … I haven't done anything. I don't even go near that part of town." She'd never felt so helpless in her life.

The guy shrugged. "Well, from everything I ever heard, he was always a loose cannon, even before Lung took over the ABB. Maybe he's getting desperate. Or it could be he sees you as a threat."

"What's going on here?" Sabah almost gasped with relief as she saw Flechette with Kid Win. It was the latter's voice she'd heard. "We got a report that Oni Lee attacked someone."

"Yeah," said the guy. "Me and my girlfriend here saw him show up just over there. An ABB mook went up to Parian here and yelled at her to give them protection money. When she didn't, Oni Lee threw a grenade into the stall, then ducked around there and teleported away."

"Is that what happened, Parian?" asked Kid Win soothingly, keeping his voice calm and even.

"Y-yes," she said shakily. "I-I don't know why he did it. It-it just came out of the blue."

"What happened to the ABB minion?" Flechette asked the guy, her voice hard and no-nonsense. "Can you give me any sort of description? Tattoos or other identifying marks?"

"Not really." The guy shook his head. "I was looking at Oni Lee. You don't believe they can actually teleport until you see them do it, y'know?"

The girl raised her hand slightly. "I think the minion got into a white van with some others, just over there, and drove off." She pointed at an empty parking space.

"Thanks." Flechette handed the guy a Wards contact card. "If you think of anything else, call this number."

"We'll definitely do that." He took the card and turned to Sabah. "You take care now, okay?"

"Th-thanks. I will." She watched them go, then looked back at her ruined equipment. "I don't understand. I don't understand any of this."

Kid Win glanced at her, then at Lily. Sabah was pretty sure he knew about the relationship between them but from what Lily said, nobody talked about it. "I'll, uh, I'll go get a sample of that ash. See if we can analyse anything different out of it this time."

"Yeah, you do that." Unslinging her arbalest from her back and resting it on the ground, Lily sat down alongside Sabah. Under her visor, her face was drawn and pale; almost as pale, Sabah imagined, as her own must be right now. They didn't quite dare hold hands in public, but her glove was nudged up against Sabah's. Turning to face her, Lily lowered her voice. "Are you okay?"

"N-not really," Sabah admitted. "I'm not hurt, if that's what you mean, but …" She gestured at the ash that Kid Win was investigating, and the deflated gorilla. "I'm scared. Nobody ever came after me like this before." She could feel her nose beginning to run, and desperately wanted to wipe it.

"We'll find him." Lily's voice was low and intense. "We'll drag that murderous sonovabitch in by his stupid fucking mask and bury him in the deepest, darkest cell we have."

Sabah sniffled. "I know you'll want to, but let's be realistic here. I'm just a rogue cape. The Protectorate hasn't hunted him down in the three months since Lung was captured, so why would they pull out the stops now? And no, I don't want you getting hurt taking him on alone."

<><>​

Flechette

Her words struck hard to Lily's core. Sabah was right; the Protectorate was always slow to rally around any non-affiliated cape. And this, right here, was a perfect excuse for Piggot to slow-walk any investigation until she had Sabah's signature on the dotted line. And she'd know about it immediately, too; even now, Chris was reporting the situation over their radio link. Her own mic was turned off, for obvious reasons.

For one ugly moment, she wondered if the Director might have engineered this encounter somehow. But no; reluctantly, she had to come to the conclusion that while Piggot would absolutely ride this opportunity into the ground, she wouldn't actually go so far as to instigate it in the first place. Among other things, Emily Piggot probably had the word 'deniability' tattooed on the insides of her eyelids.

Which unfortunately left Lily even farther behind the eight-ball than before. Even if I bite the bullet and call Piggot's bluff, if I go down to Miami, I won't be able to protect her from Oni Lee.

All she had to do was say three words. Join the Protectorate. Sabah wouldn't be happy, but she'd be safe.

But the words wouldn't come. Lily sat, watching Chris gathering his sample, trying to figure out what she should say. If I say that, I can't unsay it. If Sabah says yes to Piggot, they'll never take their hooks out of her.

"… I'll think of something," she said in the end. "But hey, do me a favour?"

Sabah wriggled a piece of cloth up inside her mask; a moment later, Lily heard her blowing her nose. "What?"

Lily considered her options. "Leave the costume in the closet for a little bit. Give me a chance to get a line on what's happening." Even if I have to go to ABB territory and have a close and personal word with half the bangers on the street.

"Okay, I can do that." Sabah turned to her, and Lily could see her eyes wide and wet with tears inside the porcelain mask. "Be careful. Stay safe. Please."

"Always." Chris was finished with his sample-gathering, so Lily stood up. She used the movement to conceal a quick grab-and-squeeze of Sabah's hand. "See you tonight?"

Sabah's fingers trailed off Lily's hands, setting fire to her nerve endings. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Always."

Taking up the arbalest and slinging it over her back again, Lily used the moment to compose herself. Sabah was the sweetest and most gentle girl in Brockton Bay, and she desperately wanted to set out in pursuit of the cocksuckers who'd done this, but she couldn't. Curling her hand slightly to recall the touch of her girlfriend's hand, she strode over to where Chris was putting his collection gear away. "So, get anything?"

Chris shrugged noncommittally. "White ash, same as every other time Oni Lee does his thing. Lab'll tell us if there's anything different this time. How is she?"

"Shaken up as fuck." Lily growled under her breath. "What the hell is Oni Lee up to? It's not like she even makes much money doing this."

The power-armoured Ward nodded. "I don't understand it either, but then again, I'm not a serial suicide bomber. One thing I can tell you, though. He didn't intend to kill her."

Lily tilted her head to one side to complement the raising of her eyebrows. Everyone who wore a face-covering mask learned to over-express their emotions or risk being described as 'robotic'. "That's good to know, but how do you figure?"

He gestured toward the crumpled remains of the stall and the shredded gorilla on top. "After the Cornell bombings, Armsmaster had me do an explosive force recognition course. A high-explosive grenade would've sent all that flying, and a shrapnel grenade would've probably wounded or killed her, as well as half the bystanders. What he threw at her was just a flashbang. Her precautions basically saved everyone around from being hurt or even seriously traumatised, and minimised what little shrapnel would've been flying around. But yeah, at most she would've been temporarily blinded and deafened and maybe wounded by bits of casing. The chance of serious permanent injury or death was actually pretty low."

She wanted to punch him for his matter-of-fact tone. This was her girlfriend he was talking about. The woman she loved. Not just some casual person on the street. But while Chris wasn't exactly in Armsmaster's league for being Captain Oblivious, he wasn't a people person at the best of times. She guessed he was trying to make her feel better in his own way.

"Okay, thanks." She inhaled air through her nostrils as she saw the flashing lights approach. Police, fire and ambulance. No PRT vans, as yet. "Time to let 'em know we got exactly nothing."

He nodded. "Yes, but the public likes to see us responding to something like this. It raises confidence in the PRT and Protectorate."

"What can the cops even do for her?" Her frustration, already rising, hit new levels.

This time, he shrugged. "Take her statement and pass it on to the PRT, I guess."

She gritted her teeth and muttered in a sing-song tone. "So sorry, not our jurisdiction."

The look he gave her held sympathy mixed with helplessness. "I wish I could say they'd be able to do something. The PRT will, though."

"The PRT will take her statement and ask what she did to provoke him, then do nothing because she's a rogue cape." She shook her head. "And she'll be left out in the cold, because they don't give a damn."

"The PRT cares," he said reflexively. She gave him a look of extreme disbelief, and he raised his hands defensively. "They do. This is one more charge they can put against Oni Lee."

"Who they're not going to do anything about bringing in." Her voice was flat.

As the emergency vehicles pulled to a halt, he didn't contradict her.

<><>​

Director's Office
One Hour Later
Director Piggot

"Well, what do you expect me to do?" Emily spread her hands. "You swept the area afterward. He'd clearly left, along with his minions. By your own words, once he was gone, he was gone."

Flechette clenched her hands, but she managed to keep her voice under control. "We could go into ABB territory and pin him down. Drag him out by the hair. Make the whole city a lot safer." She took a deep breath. "I'll take unpaid overtime to go along."

Emily carefully schooled her expression—Regret #4: I understand your problem and I sympathise but there's nothing I can do—before she replied. "I know you would, and I applaud your dedication to your job. However, there are factors that need to be addressed first. One: we have many other irons in the fire at the moment, and the number of troopers required to support such an action just aren't available right now. Two: things are quiet in ABB territory. We don't want to be riling them up needlessly ahead of Lung's transfer. Three: if the Empire Eighty-Eight gets the idea that we're rounding up the gangs, especially after Team Samaritan brought the Merchants in, they might start throwing their weight around. And they have more throw weight than we do. If things came to a head between us and the Empire, there would be a lot of casualties, many on our side, and many more in the civilian population." She placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward. "I spend a lot of time maintaining the peace in this city so that specific thing does not happen."

"So you're going to do nothing," Flechette said bitterly. "And all because Parian's not a hero. Or is it because she's not in the Protectorate?"

"I would be careful with what you are insinuating," Emily said, moderating her tone so it didn't sound as though she were dressing down the importunate Ward; even though that was precisely what she was doing. "The PRT does not play favourites. However, we do have priorities that we need to meet, and—"

"What's the difference between 'playing favourites' and 'low priority'?" interrupted Flechette, her jaw set and tone still bitter. "Because they sound exactly the same to me."

Emily had anticipated this question. "Playing favourites focuses on the cape, to the exclusion of all else. Exercising priorities focuses on the wider picture. I am the regional Director, and so my higher priorities involve ensuring the success of everything I'm trying to achieve with the PRT, Protectorate and Wards in this city, and the safety of the people under my command. They do not entail going out of my way to protect a rogue cape from the consequences of her own actions, whoever that cape may be."

"Her own actions?" Flechette shook her head. "She didn't do anything."

That rated a slight eyebrow-raise. "She must have offended Oni Lee somehow, for him to come all the way down to the Boardwalk and toss a flashbang into her stall." She shrugged. "If Parian were to come in to speak to me herself, perhaps we could come to some sort of equitable arrangement."

Flechette's fists clenched, and she glared at Emily. Her jaw worked, as though she wanted to say things, but was holding them back by pure force of will. Emily approved of that sort of self-discipline. She considered Flechette to be one of the better Wards, neither absent-minded like Kid Win, a loose cannon like (the thankfully long out of her hair) Shadow Stalker or a not-as-funny-as-he-thought-he-was jokester such as Clockblocker.

Merely thinking the name made her shudder.

But even the 'good' Wards needed discipline and direction, and while Renick handled most of the day-to-day interactions with them, she was not above providing some of her own when and if needed. Such as right now.

Turning on her heel, Flechette stormed out of Emily's office, apparently attempting to slam it but foiled by the (Armsmaster upgraded) closing mechanism. Fortunately for the Ward's sake, it remained intact; Emily was not above docking her pay to repair anything she broke in her little fit of pique.

Leaning back in her chair, Emily allowed herself a modicum of satisfaction at the way the discussion had gone. Flechette had to learn that for every 'give' there was a corresponding 'take'; as a Ward, low down on the totem pole as she was, she would suffer the short end of both giving and taking. It was just the way of the world.

She had to admire the fortuity of the incident on the Boardwalk that morning, even as she condemned Oni Lee himself for his reckless and dangerous actions. Enough PRT troopers had been injured by his actions over the years that she would cheerfully see him installed in a cell for the foreseeable future … but not, perhaps, before he stampeded Parian into the arms of the Protectorate. Besides, what she'd told Flechette was essentially true. The PRT did have many irons in the fire, and there were priorities they had to meet.

Yes, Emily Piggot was the one who designated which irons they had in the fire, and what priorities were most important at the time. She didn't want to see Parian hurt, but when it came to the bigger picture, she was dedicated to the welfare of the PRT (and of course, the Protectorate and Wards) above all else; first, last and always.

And that was the way of the world.

<><>​

The Hebert Household
09:45 That Morning
Ladybug

Taylor lounged on the couch, giving just a little bit of attention to the TV while checking out what was going on around Brockton Bay with her bugs. Missy and Mr. Barnes had come over earlier and were in the kitchen going over the Wards contract (Taylor had taken one look at it and gone ew, no thanks) trying to work out if there was some kind of loophole to let Flechette wriggle out of it. Lisa, despite having spent the last couple of nights babysitting Riley, was leaning over the table, showing every evidence of interest in the process.

Danny had taken Riley herself out to the Hillside Mall with Amy in attendance, to outfit the girl with actual clothing (and to attempt a little mending of the fences in the process). So far, from the bugs she had on all three, it seemed to be going okay. Nobody had tried to kill anyone else, so that was a good step in the right direction, and Riley appeared to be enjoying the new shoes she was wearing.

"Okay," said Mr. Barnes. "So this clause here regarding an 'unsafe work environment'. There's no definition on the contract. What does that translate out to in PRT regulations?"

"I got this one," Lisa said; Taylor could hear the smug in her voice. "If you can prove those in leadership above you are not acting in your best interest, or directly lying to you in a matter of importance, or otherwise not acting in good faith toward you, then you can petition to be released from your contract. But you've got to have ironclad proof, preferably with witness verification."

From the movement of Missy's head, she nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, good. The question is, how do we prove something like that? I don't actually much like the Director, but I have to respect the way she nails everything down. Very little gets past her."

"You've got about one chance, here." Lisa's smug factor ratcheted up a notch or two. "Did you know that Piggot's desk has a built-in recording system? All PRT Directors do. Among other things, they've got to be recording any time the Director is alone in their office with a Ward. Basically, it's a safety net for both sides. Also, any Ward can request for any recording they were present for to be played back at any time. Denying the request without a really solid reason? Unsafe work environment."

"I can see that," mused Alan Barnes. "But she also knows this. As Missy says, she's very proficient at what she does, and I doubt very much that she would deliberately lie on tape in a way she can be caught out."

"Unless she can wipe the tape later on," Missy suggested.

The bugs on Lisa's hair registered a side-to-side motion; she was shaking her head. "Nope. First off, the Director doesn't have access to the delete button for her own recordings, because that would kind of negate the purpose of having the recordings in the first place. Second, regulations require them to keep the recordings for at least six months. If you requested a recording for a meeting that you know you had in the last six months and it came up blank, it triggers an investigation into that Director's actions."

"Since when do you have access to PRT regulations?" asked Mr. Barnes curiously.

Taylor could hear Lisa's smirk growing by the second. "I'm just that—"

Missy's phone rang. Quickly tugging it out of her pants pocket, she answered it. "Oh, hi, Flechette. How are—wait, wait. Slow down. What's happened?"

The tone of Missy's voice grabbed Taylor's attention. Coming to her feet, she headed into the kitchen, pulling out her own phone. If the rest of the team were needed, she had them on speed-dial. Also, she had bugs on them.

"One second. I'm putting you on speaker. Alpha, our legal expert, is right here." Missy took her phone away from her ear and hit the icon that let everyone hear what was going on. "Okay, start from the top." Taylor noted that Lisa had her phone out by this time. She laid it down beside Missy's, a recording app running.

The sound quality wasn't great—wind kept cutting across wherever Flechette was making the call from—but it was audible enough. "It's Parian," Flechette said. "This morning she was selling dolls down on the Boardwalk and Oni Lee attacked her. Demanded protection money, then threw a grenade into her stall and teleported away. And Piggot isn't doing anything. She keeps talking about priorities and keeping the peace, but—"

"Wait, wait," Lisa said. "Sorry, this is Athena. You're saying Oni Lee attacked her? Threw a grenade? Is she okay?"

Flechette stifled a sniffle. "Yes, it was just a flashbang, but her stall was ruined, and she lost the day's work. But Piggot doesn't care unless it's a Ward or a member of the Protectorate that's in danger. She's not saying it directly, but—"

"But she's saying it loud and clear all the same," Alan Barnes said understandingly. "This is Alpha. Has she said straight out that if Parian joins the Wards or Protectorate, the PRT would be able to protect her then?"

"No." Flechette sniffled again. "All she's said is that the PRT has priorities, but if Parian came in and spoke to her face to face, they should be able to work out an equitable arrangement." She spoke the last two words with disgust.

"Translation: if you join us, we can protect you. Got it. Hmm." Alan Barnes frowned and rubbed his lips with the side of his index finger.

Missy looked troubled. "You don't think …"

"It's a put-up job?" Lisa shook her head. "No. Piggot is self-serving as fuck, but she does things by the book … mostly. Take advantage of something like this? In a hot Brockton Bay second. Risk getting caught setting it up herself? Not a hope in hell."

"But what do I do?" asked Flechette.

Taylor felt the determination settle into her features as she stepped forward and leaned over the phone. "Hi, Flechette. Ladybug, here. In all good conscience, there's only one thing we can do."

"And what's that?"

Alan Barnes and Missy looked at her with the same question on their faces, while Lisa's expression curved into a savage grin. She knew.

Emma was the nominal leader of Team Samaritan, but Taylor knew her as well as she knew herself. This was something Emma wouldn't step back from, either. Putting her phone down, she rested her knuckles on the table.

"We're going to bring Oni Lee in and ask him exactly what the fuck he thinks he's doing."

<><>​

Half an Hour Later
Sparx

"We're going to bring Oni Lee in and ask him exactly what the fuck he thinks he's doing."

Emma tapped the icon to end the playback and handed Lisa's phone back over to her. "Thanks. Okay, now we're up to speed." She looked over at Madison and Vicky. "So, either of you have a problem with going after a sadistic teleporting serial suicide bomber?"

Madison shook her head. "Nope. In fact, it's long past time we did something about him."

"What she said," Vicky added. "Ames, from the way you're having a fit of hysterics in the corner, I guess you're okay with it, too?"

Amy, who was in fact sitting sedately on the couch between Lisa and Riley, stuck out her tongue at her sister. "There's nothing 'okay' about dealing with Oni Lee, but Madison's on the mark. He was left alone after Lung went down for far too long, just because he's 'only' Oni Lee. It's about time we corrected that oversight."

Emma grimaced. "It's partly my fault. I kept thinking the PRT would finally get off their backsides and bring him in, but I guess status quo is king after all. So, Tails?"

"Wait, wait." Riley waved her hands for attention. "So that's it? You're just going to bring in Oni Lee?"

Danny nodded. "Pretty much."

"When the girls get it in their heads to do something," Rod Clements added from where he was leaning back in an armchair, "they generally get it done."

"And you're doing now instead of, say, next month, because of … your friend?" Riley appeared to be having trouble with this concept.

"Teammate, but close enough," Missy agreed. "Also, we hate bullying. Ladybug?"

"He's showing the flag," Taylor reported. "Walking down the street. Just taking his time."

"Good." Alan Barnes nodded toward the kitchen. "We'll put down a map shortly, but for now let's do a refresh on his abilities and resources. Aerodyne, you lead us off."

"Resources: grenades, plus a pistol and a knife," Madison recited. "Also, potential allies in the form of the ABB, and maybe civilians who see us as the bad guy."

"So we need to watch our backs at all times," Emma noted. "Good. Vista: abilities."

Missy nodded to acknowledge her. "A blend of teleporting and duplication. Goes somewhere else but leaves a pile of ash behind. The duplication happens a few seconds before the ash thing, so he can have two or three duplicates fighting at the same time."

"Ten seconds," Lisa clarified. "Theoretically, he could have ten to fifteen duplicates in an area at once. But he's never gone past four, for some reason. Maybe psychological, maybe power-based."

"Teleportation is strictly line of sight," Taylor continued. "I've never seen him jump to a place he wasn't looking at."

"Grue could actually be handy, there." Lisa raised her eyebrows as everyone else looked at her. "Hey, it's just a thought."

"It's one we'll keep in mind," Danny said. "Does anyone else have anything to add?"

"Yes." Riley blinked as everyone's attention swung to her again. "Hey, I'm not knocking what you're doing or anything. If you put this much attention into taking the Nine down, I'm not surprised you pulled it off. But has anyone asked why he's doing it, and gotten a solid answer?"

"Several times for the first part, zero times for the second," Emma said, and raised her eyebrows. "Do you think you've got an insight we missed?"

Riley frowned. "Not … really. But I can't help thinking you're missing a trick by not pushing harder for an answer. Mr. Jack … I know you all didn't think much of him, but he was real good at what he did. Whenever he brought a new member into the Nine, he always found out exactly what they wanted. And whenever they started getting a little antsy, he'd throw them a treat. He taught me that knowing what someone wants is important."

"Well, when we've got him in cuffs with a bag over his head, we'll be sure to ask him," Emma noted. "But as far as we know, his only real need or want is to keep the ABB going until Lung gets back. Which unfortunately isn't something we can leverage in our favour." She gave Riley a nod of encouragement. "It's good that you're asking questions, though. Keep it up."

"She's not actually wrong, though," Lisa said thoughtfully. "Oni Lee attacking Parian just doesn't mesh with what we know of his motives and past behaviour. If she'd set up in ABB turf instead of the Boardwalk, it might make more sense … but she didn't. It's an outlier. One of these things is not like the others."

"We are aware," Danny replied dryly. "So, square the circle for us. How can this be made to make sense?"

"The only reason I can think of is if he's looking to expand into the Boardwalk," Alan said slowly. "But he'll never hold it. Not on his own."

Rod Clements snapped his fingers. "Lung. He's got a plan to bust Lung out when they move him to the Birdcage. Encroaching on the Boardwalk, and scaring off 'soft' capes like Parian, those are just the opening moves. Once Lung's out, the ABB will have a resurgence. And the Boardwalk is prime turf."

"Which means it's not Oni Lee's plan," Lisa stated. "He doesn't think that deeply. Lung. Oni Lee must be in communication with Lung somehow."

Missy paled. "There's got to be a mole in the PRT, passing messages. I have to warn the Director."

"Probably more than one," Danny advised. He raised a finger. "Let's keep our own plans on the down-low for the moment, okay?"

"Well, duh." Missy rolled her eyes. "After the dirty trick she pulled on Flechette, she's not exactly my favourite person in the world either. But she needs to know about the mole."

"Make the call," Alan Barnes said. "Then contact Flechette. Ask her if she'd like to be in on the bust."

Taylor caught Emma's eye, and they both grinned at the same time. "As if she'd miss it."

<><>​

One Hour Later
Flechette

Lily crouched with the other members of Team Samaritan on a rooftop in the middle of ABB territory. It was weird; they all seemed to be communicating with each other with just glances, even Vista. With her awareness of movement and balance, she could tell they were even moving in concert.

"He's coming this way." Ladybug was several yards away and her lips didn't move, but Lily heard her voice all the same; an almost subliminal hum, from all around her.

"Good." Sparx, somewhat closer, whispered the word and had her extended hair-tendrils spell out the words at the same time. "Flechette, you're Plan A. Ladybug, Plan B. Glory Girl, Plan C. Panacea, Plan D."

"I like Plan C," murmured Glory Girl, but she didn't move to jump the gun.

Lily already knew all this, and a great deal more, from the briefing Team Samaritan had given her when they met up just outside ABB territory. Far from having to search that area of town house by house, they already knew where Oni Lee was (thanks to Ladybug's insane range with her powers) and were just finalising the exact means for taking him down. She'd been even more taken aback when she learned exactly what Plan A entailed.

A wireframe model of the street below and the surrounding buildings sprang up on the rooftop between them. Moments later, a group of bugs landed on the building where they were, and more bugs zoomed in to land where people apparently were located. A large black bug with a blinking firefly perched on its back was moving along the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.

"Three …" Ladybug's 'voice' hummed over the rooftop. "Two … one … now!"

At 'now', Lily snapped upright, arbalest already going to her shoulder. It was loaded, the metal needle already energised and the chain from the internal reservoir connected. She'd had all the time in the world to get ready.

Oni Lee was precisely where she'd known he would be. At that moment, he was waving away a fly. Thanks, Ladybug. She aimed, got her sight picture, and squeezed the trigger.

The needle shot away across the street, paying out the long thin chain behind it. Due to the effect of her energising power, it flew in a micrometer-straight line, neither dropping due to gravity nor slowing due to air resistance. It hit Oni Lee's foot, punched through into the concrete beneath … and stopped, the rear of it still sticking into the air and the chain leading back up to where she was.

Taking the arbalest, Lily affixed the chain to the wall and leaped up to balance on the chain. Purpose-made notches in the cleats of her boots allowed her to slide down it with remarkable ease, especially after she made her boots frictionless.

When she reached the bottom, she stepped off the chain and swung the butt of the arbalest in one smooth move. Oni Lee had been fruitlessly trying to yank his foot free; he attempted to duck aside from her blow but she compensated and connected cleanly with the side of his jaw behind the mask. He went down without another sound. "That's for the grenade," she said out loud.

In another second, or so it seemed, Team Samaritan had joined her on the sidewalk, surrounding her and looking outward. Panacea went straight to Oni Lee and pulled his glove off. "A little hand here?"

"Oh, sorry." Lily pulled another needle from her quiver and energised it briefly to slice the boot off his foot, then swiped across the concrete under his sole to free his foot from that side.

"No problem." Amy applied herself once more to Oni Lee, using her fingertips to pull the steel sliver out of his foot like a splinter. "That was badass as hell when you slid down the chain, just saying."

"Thanks." Loading the needle into her arbalest, Lily cranked the cable back again. "How did you know he wouldn't be able to teleport?"

Athena answered that one as Glory Girl hefted the unconscious villain over her shoulder. "Well, I figured that if his foot was fused to the needle and the needle was fused to the sidewalk, any attempt to do his thing would require him to take a ton or so of concrete with him, and his weight limit probably wasn't that high."

"And if it had been? Or if he'd been able to separate himself?" A couple of fireflies lit up right in front of Lily's face; focusing along the line they made, she saw an ABB guy just coming into view with an assault rifle. Aiming and shooting in one quick motion—without attaching the chain this time—she nailed the rifle to the wall behind it.

"Nice shot." Sparx extended her tendrils out and zapped another guy with a pistol. "Time we got moving. Like we practised, people. If he'd been able to teleport away from it, or take it with him, Ladybug had a couple of knockout bugs on the back of his neck. Plan B, remember?"

"Ah." One step got them onto the rooftop, then they started walking, back toward where the cars were parked. "And if that failed, Glory Girl would get to punch him?"

Glory Girl answered that one, carrying Oni Lee at the head of the group. "Like I said, I liked Plan C."

"I can totally understand that." Smacking him unconscious with the butt of her arbalest had been amazingly satisfying.

With Vista assisting and Ladybug covering them, exfiltration from ABB territory was just as easy as getting in. Nobody managed to get close enough to even get a sightline on them, and the few that tried were dealing with swarms of insects trying to crawl into places insects most definitely should not be. Lily did her best to keep her head up and on a swivel like the rest of them, but once more she was vividly aware that they had a level of teamwork going on that she simply didn't possess. Even Vista, after just two weeks as their liaison, was integrating with them to an impressive degree.

When they got back to the cars, driven by Delta and Romeo, the attention to detail didn't slack off. The paint jobs on each vehicle was obscured by a coating of bugs and the license plates were entirely covered. Both adults, wearing basic cloth masks and concealing clothing, sported pump-action shotguns that looked thoroughly businesslike. They zip-tied Oni Lee's hands and feet—Panacea had long since healed the wound made by the steel needle—removed his mask and weapons, then shoved a bag over his head and deposited him in the trunk of one of the cars.

Ladybug got into the front passenger seat of the car holding Oni Lee, while Aerodyne did the same in the other. Lily got into the back seat of the car with Ladybug, along with Vista and Panacea; Sparx, Glory Girl and Athena climbed into the other one. As the swarm overhead flew off in entirely the wrong direction, the two cars rolled sedately away from ABB territory.



End of Part Thirty-Two

 

[meloa789]

What are the odds that a third party put a hit on Parian, so the team would inadvertently depose Piggot due to her incompetence?

 

[Robert Stadler]

I was actually starting to wonder if this could be not Oni Lee, but some sort of imitator instead. Oni Lee was acting oddly in a number of ways (out of his territory, surprisingly non-lethal, inexplicable motivation). Could this be Trickster and the Travelers, where Trickster dumps out a jar of ash as a red herring?

 

[Prince Charon]

I was actually starting to wonder if this could be not Oni Lee, but some sort of imitator instead. Oni Lee was acting oddly in a number of ways (out of his territory, surprisingly non-lethal, inexplicable motivation). Could this be Trickster and the Travelers, where Trickster dumps out a jar of ash as a red herring?

Click to shrink...

Canon Trickster isn't that bright, but that doesn't mean that they can't be working for someone who is. Of course, it might be Oni Lee, but acting out of character for entirely different reasons.

 

[Ack]

One More Trigger

Part Thirty-Three: Let's Twist Again

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



Hebert House
Half an Hour Later
Ladybug

"We're all clear," Taylor announced. She strolled down into the basement, closing the door with a nudge of her elbow, then descended the steps holding a tray bearing glasses of orange juice. "Capturing supervillains is thirsty work."

Flechette was staring around at the basement, including where Amy had her bug-creation 'laboratory' at one end of a work bench, and where Riley's bed had been moved up against the wall. "This can not be your secret base," she said, shaking her head. "Oh, thanks," she added as she took a glass.

"Nah, it's more like our secret basement," quipped Taylor. After all but one of the glasses had been taken, she scored the last one and put the tray on the lid of the washing machine. "ABB's running in circles like headless chickens. They haven't got the first idea where he's gone to." She snorted. "Even the guys in the PRT surveillance van didn't pick us up bringing him in through the back door."

Riley, standing next to Lisa, was staring where Oni Lee was kneeling in the middle of the floor. He was still zip-tied, and the bag was very firmly fastened over his head. Nobody wanted him to be able to see.

"That can't be Oni Lee," she declared. "You were only away an hour. No way you captured him so fast."

By way of answer, Missy reached into her pocket; like a conjuring trick, she enlarged the fanged spirit mask to full size, then handed it to her. "Well, if it wasn't him, it was his stunt double."

"Which it wasn't." Lisa buffed her nails on her T-shirt. "He walked like a pretentious asshole who didn't have a care in the world, not like someone who was pretending to be one. And trust me, I know pretentious assholes."

"From the mirror, maybe?" snarked Riley. Taylor smirked just a little; the kid was certainly bouncing back from that first night's funk.

"Oh, ha ha, short stuff." Lisa wrinkled her nose at Riley, but the grin lurking at the corner of her mouth told Taylor a different story. "So, Amy, want to do the honours and wake our guest up? I'm pretty sure Flechette's got some … pointed questions for him."

"Oh, hell yes," purred Flechette. She watched as Amy touched Oni Lee's ungloved hand then stepped back.

The villain visibly stirred, then turned his head from side to side in an attempt to dislodge the bag. Next, he tried to move his arms, to equally minimal effect.

"I wouldn't bother," Flechette said, moving to stand in front of him. "Even if you managed to free yourself, you're surrounded, and we'd put you down again just as fast."

"Faster," Taylor acknowledged.

Oni Lee went still for a moment, took a breath, then spoke some language that Taylor didn't understand. Flechette answered him back; short, sharp and curt.

Lisa and Taylor shared a grin. The 'no habla ingles' ploy was one they'd planned for. Flechette only knew a few phrases of Japanese, but she'd brushed up on 'I don't speak English' and 'Yes, you do' for this specific occasion.

The villain took a few moments to figure out what to do next. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"

"You've just been captured by Team Samaritan," Flechette said boldly. Taylor raised her eyebrows slightly and caught Emma's eye. Emma nodded; she'd noticed the phrasing, too. "All I want is the answer to one question, and then we can hand you over so the PRT can shove you in a nice comfy cell: Why did you attack Parian?"

Oni Lee paused long enough that Taylor thought he was refusing to answer the question. Then he asked one of his own. "Who?"

"He doesn't know who Parian is," Lisa supplied.

"Okay, fine," snapped Flechette. "The doll-making cape down at the Boardwalk. This morning. Three, four hours ago now. You demanded protection money, then threw a grenade at her. That one. Ring a bell now?"

Again, it took him a few moments to answer. Taylor was starting to wonder if he needed the time just to fit his head around new ideas. "No," he said. "I have not been on the Boardwalk all week."

"You're lying!" shouted Flechette. "Why are you lying?"

Lisa took a step forward and put a hand on her shoulder. "He's not lying."

"What?" Flechette whipped her head around. "Of course he's lying! We have witnesses who said he was there! Parian saw him! He teleported away!"

"What if he didn't?" All eyes went to Taylor as she straightened from where she was leaning against the stair rail. "I mean, did Parian herself see him teleport, or did someone else say they saw it?" A picture was forming in her head, and she didn't like the pattern it was making.

"No, she said … she said …" Flechette shook her head. "Actually, I can't remember."

"Shit," muttered Emma. "Call her. Ask her." She pointed at Missy. "Call the lab, ask them what they made of the ash."

"Fuck," Lisa said a moment later. "Have we just been played? I think we've just been played."

The laughter started a few seconds later. Looking around, Taylor saw Riley leaning against the wall, arms wrapped around herself, tears running down her face. "I told you!" she wheezed. "I told you it was all wrong!"

Lisa nodded ruefully. "You did." She pulled the girl closer and gave her a quick noogie as she squawked and flailed. "You knew supervillains better than we did. Shocker."

"Wait," Missy said, halfway through dialling. "Does that mean I should tell them to stop looking for the mole?"

Taylor shook her head. "Nah. We don't know there isn't one."

"Fair." Missy went back to pressing buttons.

<><>​

Sparx

They reconvened in the living room. Oni Lee, once more unconscious courtesy of Amy, had been left lying on the floor of the basement. Both Flechette and Vista looked grim in the aftermath of the phone calls.

"Let me guess," Emma said to Flechette. "She didn't see him teleport, but someone else did, right?"

Flechette screwed up her nose and nodded. "Yeah. Apparently, the couple who stopped to help were the only ones who saw him teleport. And there's no security cameras with the correct angle to see where it happened."

"And the lab guys say the ash resembles previous samples," Vista reported, "but it's mixed in with other stuff; like it's been scraped up and stored. They're saying it's contamination from the collection process, but with what we just heard …" She hooked her thumb downward, in the direction of the basement.

"… the whole thing sounds like a frame job," Emma concluded. "And if it is, we fell for it. Hook, line and big fat sinker."

"It's absolutely a frame job," confirmed Lisa, who was sharing an armchair with Amy. "He wasn't there, but for whatever reason, someone's trying hard to make it look like he was. That by definition makes it a frame job."

"So what do we do with him now?" asked Taylor. "We can't just let him go, and I don't want to give the PRT credit for capturing him when we did all the work."

Madison shook her head. "Screw the credit. We've never been in this for glory. He's still a murderous asshole. Hand him over and call it a day."

Flechette folded her arms and dropped onto the sofa. "Okay, so if it wasn't Oni Lee, who was it, and why?"

Lisa steepled her fingers. "Well, if you think about it, all we really have to do is ask ourselves cui bono? Who profits?"

Emma met Taylor's eyes. "The Empire," they chorused.

Lisa snapped her fingers. "Pick a mook who looks even vaguely Asian and give him enough of a makeup job to pass for ten seconds. Put Victor in an Oni Lee outfit, with a full-face mask and wig. Dump out a bag of Oni Lee ash, toss a grenade to get everyone's attention while the mook and the fake Lee dive into an anonymous van …"

"… and have a couple of people at the scene to proclaim loudly what they said they saw, while the main actors vanish behind the curtain," finished Missy. "Classic misdirection. I bet everyone who was anywhere nearby believes by now that they actually saw him teleport away."

"Okay, I get that," Flechette said. "That all fits together. But how the hell did they know that she's my girlfriend, and that I'd get you guys in on it, or that we'd take Oni Lee off the board for them?"

Silence fell as they mulled the question over. Emma had the mental impression of trying to fit a square block into a round hole. The facts didn't fit together.

"But what if they didn't?" Taylor asked slowly. She looked around at everyone. "Suppose they found out that you and her were a thing but instead of jumping all over the 'evil lesbian cape' as the Empire, they made it look like Oni Lee did it."

"But why such a roundabout method?" Emma shook her head. "The Empire can do subtle, sure, but this sort of thing is where people like Hookwolf would love to send a message."

"And besides," added Madison, "they would've used a frag grenade or something even nastier, to make sure she was dead, not just scared. It still doesn't add all the way up."

Lisa slapped her forehead. "It does if they didn't know about Flechette and Parian. What if they didn't know any of the connections? Then this whole thing is a pure fluke for them. Which means they absolutely never intended for Oni Lee to be caught so easily, especially not by us. Because the PRT wouldn't let Flechette actually ask him why he attacked Parian. They'd just go, 'Oni Lee being Oni Lee' and toss it in with the rest of the other charges."

"Okay, so what the hell is this all about?" Flechette threw her arms in the air from where she sat on the sofa. "Why even pretend to attack her, if it's not about her lifestyle and mine?"

Danny shook his head. "It wasn't an attempt to hurt her. It was scare tactics. They threw the spectre of the ABB at her, so she'd look for protection elsewhere." At Flechette's confused look, he added two words. "The Empire."

Alan was the next to speak up. "Holy shit, you're right! All this wasn't aimed at Lee. It was aimed at Parian. Five gets you ten that the people who 'helped' her will be back, the next time she shows up. They strike up a friendship. Agree how terrible it is that people like that just attack law-abiding capes in broad daylight. Suggest that they know people who could help protect her in future." He tapped one finger in the other palm in time with his words, over and over. "Wearing away her resistance, one drop of water at a time."

Emma watched the realisation overtake Flechette's face. "The … fuck? All this was a … recruitment scam? The Empire's trying to frighten Parian into joining them?"

Danny nodded soberly. "'Fraid so, kiddo. I've seen it before."

"Son of a bitch!" Flechette clenched her fists. "I am gonna …" She paused, her expression dropping. "I want to tell Piggot to shove the whole thing up her undoubtedly capacious asshole so I can stay in Brockton Bay and kick some Empire butt, but … there's serious legal penalties for Wards who just walk away, especially now that I've turned eighteen. And I don't want the PRT deciding to lean on Parian next, because of her association with me."

Missy grinned. "We might just have a plan for that."

<><>​

PRT Building ENE
Director Piggot's Office
01:30 PM

"Director, Flechette and Vista are here to see you."

"Send them in." Emily was in a good mood for once.

Not half an hour ago, Glory Girl had dumped Oni Lee—zip-tied and hooded—into the main lobby of the building, then handed a bag containing his gear to one of the troopers and walked out again without a word. Everything had checked out, down to DNA on the mask matching the man in restraints, and ballistic testing with the pistol. This was indeed Oni Lee; the ABB was now cape-free.

The pistol had required cleaning before being tested; it had been covered with phenomenally sticky spider-webbing to the point that a solvent was needed to get it out of the holster. The knife had been likewise trapped in its sheath, and the grenades affixed to their bandoleer. Emily had to admit, it was a neat solution to a thorny problem. How they'd gotten him to stand still long enough to be captured was a question she still had to answer, but she was sure it had something to do with his missing boot and glove.

On the downside, Parian wasn't yet in the Protectorate, but tomorrow was another day. Getting Lee off the streets was a good start.

And now, Flechette herself had shown up. Why Vista had come along, she wasn't sure—the girl was still on detached duty with Team Samaritan—but she was sure she would find out. Idly, she wondered if this would be another pointless display of defiance, or if Flechette had finally seen reason.

The two teenagers entered her office, both in full costume. Vista was empty-handed, while Flechette held two pieces of folded paper. Emily felt uneasy but brushed it aside. All T's had been crossed, all I's dotted. Her knee nudged the hidden recording switch in what had become a reflex action.

"Good afternoon," she greeted them pleasantly. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Vista?"

Vista came to a fair approximation of attention. "This morning, acting on a report that Oni Lee had assaulted Parian at the Boardwalk, Team Samaritan entered ABB territory, captured him, and brought him out. Glory Girl should've handed him over by now. We since found out that he was innocent of the assault, but I'm sure you have enough other charges to lay at his feet."

Emily almost smiled at the girl's serious demeanour. "We do indeed. Well done." And that answered that question. She glanced at Flechette. "And you are here for …?" Now that Oni Lee was off the board, she couldn't even request protection for Parian.

Flechette unfolded one of the pieces of paper and placed it on the desk, dead centre. "This is a petition for me to be released from the Wards with no legal penalties attaching thereto, for my trust fund to be paid into a bank account named therein, and for the name, costume and accoutrements associated with the identity of Flechette to be ceded to me in perpetuity."

A long moment passed, then Emily blinked. "What?" She took up the petition—for that was what it was—and skimmed through it. It had been filled out with Flechette's customary precise handwriting, all the way down to the reason for the petition. "'Unsafe work environment'? What idiocy is this?"

"Keep reading." There was steel in Flechette's voice.

Emily could do that too. Concealing a harsh smile, she looked to the next line, and the smile turned to a scowl. "I have never lied to you about anything important!"

"Yes. You have." The girl wasn't yelling back. She was standing firm and speaking in a normal tone. "Vista has agreed to be my witness in this situation."

"Fine. Two can play at this game." Emily hit the button for the intercom. "Are there any Protectorate members in the building?"

A pause. "Sorry, ma'am. Aegis is in the Wards section, if that helps."

She made a quick calculation. Aegis was a team player, and meticulously honest. "He'll do. Tell him to report to my office, immediately."

"Yes, ma'am." The intercom cut off.

Time passed. A fly buzzed across the room, making Emily frown. How did those things keep getting in?

"Aegis is here, ma'am."

"Send him in."

The door opened, and the leader of the Wards stepped in. He wasn't breathing hard, because as far as she understood matters, it was virtually impossible to get him to that state. Still, he'd made impressive time. "You wanted to see me, ma'am?" The turn of his head took in Vista and Flechette, and he froze momentarily, no doubt wondering what was going on.

"Yes, I did. Come on in and shut the door." Emily took a deep breath while he did this, then composed her words carefully. "Flechette has petitioned to be released from the Wards without penalty, and has accused me of lying to her about matters of import. Vista is her witness. You are my witness. Do you understand?"

Aegis took a long moment to reply. "I understood what you said, ma'am, but I don't understand the situation. At all."

She nodded. "That's fair. Have I ever lied to you about anything substantial, or to any of the other Wards in your presence?"

He paused for another long moment, then shook his head. "Not to my knowledge, ma'am."

"Thank you." She gave him a tight-lipped smile. "I will need you to listen to whatever testimony she has and give me your opinion of it."

It was obvious that he knew he was involved in deep matters right now; he took his time to think through what she'd said before answering. "I can do that, ma'am."

"Good." She turned to Flechette, erasing all friendliness from her expression. The time for Ms. Nice Director was long past. "State your case."

Flechette took a deep breath and unfolded the other piece of paper, then laid it on the desk. "I want the following recording replayed for me: yesterday, on April twenty-ninth of this year, the meeting that began at two fifty-five PM."

Emily forced herself not to blink in surprise. The Wards had never been informed about the recording system; references to it were buried in the regulations, but nobody ever read those in full. Pretending nonchalance, she reached out and took up the paper. It was the appropriate request form, filled out properly. "I see you've been doing your homework."

"You might say that. Please attend to my request immediately."

Suppressing the urge to growl at the girl—the last thing she wanted was two witnesses stating she'd refused to play back the recording—Emily tapped keys on her computer until the dates were arrayed before her. All she could do was hit Play and Stop. There were no erasure or modification options.

Selecting the appropriate one, she hit Play.

The first thing that came out of the speakers was a digitised voice. "Meeting between Director Piggot and Ward Flechette at fourteen fifty-five and thirty-five seconds, on April twenty-nine, two thousand eleven. All secret identities have been redacted. Recording begins."

She heard her own voice. "Enter."

A few moments passed.

"Director Piggot … has my performance with the Wards been problematic? Have I broken the law, or violated regulations in some way that I have not yet been informed of?" That was Flechette.

"No. Your performance has been within expectations."

"If that's the case, Director, why does it feel like I am being punished for something I haven't done?"

"Punished? I authorised no punishment for you. What makes you think you're being punished?"

"Why am I being transferred to the Miami Wards then, if not as a punishment?"

"Punishment? I wasn't aware that Miami was considered such a hardship posting that it could be seen as a punishment. This is merely a routine reassignment. Not your first, as I understand matters."

"Well, no. But … I don't want to go. I like it here in Brockton Bay. Besides, the grapevine says Lung will be ready to be shipped to the Birdcage soon, and surely we're going to need all hands on deck for that."

"This is true. However, it is most likely that Oni Lee will be attempting to whip up fervour in the Asian community, possibly as a cover for the ABB to break Lung out of the transport. I will not send children into that kind of situation, and the fact that you share an ethnic background with some of the groups involved will not endear you to them. Some will see you as a traditional enemy to be targeted, while others will lash out at you as a traitor to your people. Trust me, you going out there will not help matters."

"Then put me on the Boardwalk stopping muggers, to free up manpower elsewhere. The ABB can't foster race riots everywhere."

"We won't be short-handed. Director Partridge will be sending me Wavefront. I've heard good things about him."

"Director Piggot, I don't want to go to Miami. I want to stay right here in Brockton Bay."

"That's interesting. I hadn't heard of any particular reason you might feel that way."

"I'm seeing someone. This isn't just some fling. We're pretty serious."

"Really? Does he know you're a Ward? Because that sort of secret can be problematic in a relationship."

"It's not a he, it's a she. I'm dating another woman. And yes, she does know. She doesn't have a problem with it."

"Indeed. That's very interesting. How long have you been in this relationship? Just so I can check up on when your change-of-status paperwork was filed, and find out why nobody informed me of this before I set up your transfer."

"I … haven't filed paperwork about it. It never seemed important enough."

"Well, that's a shame. If you'd ever gotten around to doing so, I would have been aware that you have ties here in the city, and I would of course have nominated someone else for the transfer. Unfortunately, the paperwork has already gone through."

"Is there any way we can change it? I mean, I haven't gone yet, and I really don't want to go."

"Well, that depends. Are there any details about your relationship which may warrant the time and effort to retrieve that paperwork from the system and reverse an official decision?"

"I'm going to need a little while to think about that, ma'am."

"Take all the time you want. Until next Friday, of course."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

The digitised voice spoke again. "Recording ends."

There was nothing new or different on it to what Emily recalled; with a clear conscience, she looked at Flechette. "The recording has been played. What of it?"

"On that recording, you claimed to me you had no idea I was seeing anyone." Flechette still hadn't raised her voice. Again, Emily felt the slightest hint of unease raising the hairs on the back of her neck. The girl was up to something, but she didn't know what.

"And I told the truth." Emily looked at Aegis. "Can you say that you knew I was aware of any outside attachment that Flechette had before last week?"

It was his apologetic look at Flechette that put Emily at ease. "Ma'am, the Wards all knew, or kind of knew, but I know I didn't tell you."

"Hmm." That was Vista. "Ma'am, on what date did you cut her transfer orders?"

The date would be printed on the papers, but Emily had no reason to lie anyway. "The twenty-seventh," she said. "Three days ago. Why?"

"Oh … no reason." Vista did a flick of the wrist, and suddenly she was holding a sheet of folded paper. "I would like to listen to a recording of a meeting I had with you. Tuesday, April twelfth. Nine oh-two AM."

Emily took the paper, the uneasy feeling slithering down her spine. It was all above board. "Why?"

"Please attend to my request immediately, ma'am."

There were those same words again. Still, she didn't know why Vista was pulling this stunt. As she recalled, that meeting had been about her sounding out Vista as a potential liaison for Team Samaritan. Was this about her pressing Vista for extra information about the team?

Scrolling down, she found the correct meeting, and pressed Play.

"Meeting between Director Piggot and Ward Vista at nine oh-two and seventeen seconds, on April twelve, two thousand eleven. All secret identities have been redacted. Recording begins."

"You wanted to see me, Director?" That was Vista's voice.

"Come in and close the door."

There was a pause, accompanied by footsteps on the carpet.

"Are you happy here, Ms <beep>?"

"Um ... yes?"

"That didn't sound very happy to me. The way I understand things, you're unhappy because people treat you as a kid, even though you've got more time as a Ward than most. Isn't that true?"

"Uh … It's not really important, Director. I'm doing good work here. My personal feelings don't really matter."

"There's more to it than that. As it happens, we have more boys than girls on the team, and you're at an age when you would like someone to talk to about such matters. And the only other girl on the team is Flechette, and she spends most of her off-duty time away from the base."

"Wait, stop!" Flechette raised her hand. "See, that? That shows you knew about my girlfriend."

Emily clicked Stop, then shook her head. "All I knew is that you were away from the base. Nothing more, nothing less. Aegis, your read on that?"

He grimaced, obviously torn between wanting to support his teammate and his boss. "It's, uh … it's ambiguous at best. Sorry, Flechette."

Flechette folded her arms and looked away from him; she didn't say a word, but the body language couldn't have been clearer.

"Can we continue, please?" asked Vista.

"Certainly." Emily clicked Play again.

"Director ...?"

"You've been watching Brockton Bay AM, with the spot on this new Team Samaritan, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"What is your opinion of them?"

"Well, Armsmaster likes them –"

There was a throat-clearing noise. "If I wanted Mr <beep>'s opinion of them, I would ask the man myself. I would like your opinion."

"Um ... they look pretty cool, actually. I'd like to know where they got their costumes from. That's not homemade stuff. Or if it is, it's really good."

"Indeed." It was a murmur. "Well, if you want, you can find out for me."

"I don't –"

"Ms <beep>, I would like you to take a leave of absence from the Wards, and offer your services to Team Samaritan as an official liaison from the Wards. They're all teenage girls, so you will have that in common, and your Wards training should be an asset to them."

"I ..." There was a pause. "Quit the Wards?"

"I believe I said, 'leave of absence'. More precisely, detached duty. You will continue to be paid your Wards salary, and you will be joining Team Samaritan on a temporary basis only. They are a new team, and there are sure to be teething problems. You will have us to turn to, to ensure that these do not get in the way of the Samaritans being as effective as they can be." Another pause. "Also, if you happen to see any wrongdoing, it would be your duty to report it."

"So I'm a spy now." Vista's voice was flat.

"I believe I said 'liaison'." By contrast, Emily's was bland. "You won't be acting against them, unless you find that they are committing crimes. I won't be asking you to find out their secret identities, or even carry a wire. I just want you to join the team and help them to become as effective a team of heroes as they can be."

"Why this team? What's so important about them that you have to put a liaison in their ranks?"

"Because the young lady known as Sparx bears a striking resemblance to the person who defeated Lung three months ago, and is almost certainly the same one who brought down Shadow Stalker. From the way she's been handling herself of late, she's been getting professional-level training from somewhere. I'd be very interested in finding out where. Also, as you noted, the costumes. They are not home-made, nor are they store-bought."

There was a pause. "Why me? Why not Flechette? She's closer to their age."

A cold feeling, as of tumbling into the abyss, seized on Emily's heart. Fuuuuck. I forgot about this bit.

As if from a great distance, she heard the next words in her own voice. "She's already got an outside relationship going on. I don't want her becoming distracted."

"Stop it there, please," Vista said politely, then turned to Aegis as Emily reflexively obeyed. "I presume you heard that, too? I can get her to replay it if you want."

He shook his head. "No need. I'm sorry, Director, but I'm stepping down as your witness and stepping up for Flechette. It's become abundantly clear to me that you knew about her outside commitment long before you cut those orders for her, and that you lied repeatedly to her—and to us—about the matter." The regret was strong in his voice, right alongside the intent to carry this through to the bitter end.

Emily glared at Vista and Flechette. They had walked right into her office and baited a trap, and like a fool she'd put her head in the noose and smiled as she pulled the lever herself.

With just one hand, so she didn't succumb to the intense desire to tear the petition to shreds, she took it up again.

Back when she'd been in her PRT recruit course, a training sergeant had said something that stuck in her mind. If you're ever in a situation where surrender is the only option, there's no shame in it. Sometimes, shit just happens. Never let the bastards see you sweat.

She felt as though she were staring down a rifle barrel as she reached up to her breast pocket now and took out the pen she'd been gifted with on being invalidated out of active duty. The button clicked firmly, as befitted a one-hundred-fifty-dollar precision writing implement. Placing the petition squarely before her, she inscribed her signature on it, the action as painful as if her very life-blood were draining out through the nib.

Clicking the pen closed and sliding it away again, she looked up at the three—no, two—Wards. "If that will be all, I'll be filing the appropriate paperwork immediately. Aegis, I will be requiring you to escort Flechette from the building." Her voice sounded to her own ears as though someone else was saying the words.

"Ah, ah." Flechette held up a hand. "I have possessions in the Wards area. I'll need to fetch those."

Emily clenched her teeth so tightly, some small part of her worried that she might chip the enamel. "To the Wards area then, and immediately out of the building thereafter. And Flechette, be aware that you signed an NDA with your Wards contract that is still in effect regarding the identities of your former teammates."

"Oh, totally." Flechette beamed at her. "I'm not gonna out them. I just can't wait to get out of this toxic swamp."

"Just … go." Emily growled the last word.

"Wait. One last thing." It was Vista who spoke.

Emily sighed. She just wanted this day done. "Say your goodbyes in the Wards area. I'm pulling you off liaison duty, effective immediately." It was petty, but there was basically no other way she could punish Vista for ambushing her like that.

"No. You're not." Vista placed a sheet of paper—where the hell did she get that from?—on the desk. "My petition to also leave the Wards, on the grounds that I feel unsafe in this workplace."

"What? No. No!" Emily was barely aware that she was shouting the word. "You can not just—"

"You lied to my face!" Vista screamed back at her. "I can't trust you anymore!"

Aegis broke the ringing silence that followed. "I thought … I thought you didn't want to quit the Wards?"

"I didn't," Vista said quietly, in a choked voice. "If she'd just … let Flechette go, I would've stayed. But she had to lie, and lie, and lie." She shook her head. "If I've learned anything from my parents, it's that if someone will lie about the little things, they'll lie about the big things. So, I'm leaving before it gets to that." She reached out and tapped the petition. "Sign here, please."

Emily closed her eyes, feeling the sensation of sliding down a long greasy chute with no solid footing in sight. As she reached for her pen again, she opened them and looked at Aegis. "Are you about to follow in their footsteps?"

Slowly, he shook his head. "No. I'm staying. I'm hoping you can be better than you were today, and the guys need someone to keep an eye on them."

She nodded in bleak acceptance; he wasn't staying for her, he was staying for his teammates. Slowly, carefully, painfully, she signed the second petition. It wasn't worth quibbling over the details. Two Wards had done to her what Ellisburg and Nilbog had failed to achieve. Ten years ago, she'd been beaten, but not defeated.

Now, she was defeated.

She clicked the pen once more and slid it into her pocket. Aegis escorted both ex-Wards out of her office, the door closing behind them.

Leaning back in her chair, she sighed, long and bitterly.

Well, fuck.

<><>​

Flechette

As Missy—they'd already unmasked to each other—and Lily stepped out of the PRT building, Lily turned to the younger girl. "So you're sure they're okay with me joining?"

Missy nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, hell yes." She pulled her phone—her own phone, as the Wards issued ones had been among the few things they had to hand back—and dialled a number. "Yeah, we're done, and we're on the way. Yeah, both of us. Yes, Lisa was right. Like anyone would bet against her. Oh, and we're gonna need a place to stay. Cool, see you soon."

Shutting the phone down, she put it away. "C'mon, let's go." Space warped, and they stepped away across the rooftops.

"Uh …" ventured Lily. "I wonder how much trouble Piggot's going to get into, over this?"

Missy grinned, showing her teeth. "Well, the Chief Director will be getting an anonymous email any moment now about what she tried to do, and how she went about it, and the results. So … more than a little, is my guess. Even if it's just for getting caught. Enough that she won't have time to take her frustrations out on Team Samaritan."

"Good." Lily turned to the other topic on her mind. "So, uh, about the Empire, and how they also made a move on Sabah …?"

Missy's grin turned savage. "Oh, we've got plans for them, too."



End of Part Thirty-Three

[A/N: The first audio clip that they listened to is lifted out of Part Thirty-One, posted four and a half months ago. The second comes from Part Nine, posted over seven years ago. Woo!]

 

[meloa789]

Yep, some third party is definitely manipulating the Samaritans to clean out the trash.