Ack
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Chapter Thirty: The Big Reveal
Emily Piggot stood next to the large perspex window and watched the waldos at work. She also kept an eye on the PRT techs in the room, checking the wreckage of the Dragon unit, to ensure that nothing noxious was leaking out of it. So far, no alarms were sounding, which was a good thing.
The Heberts stood beside her, father and daughter. Both were tall; Taylor, skinny as she was, overtopped Emily by an inch or so. They watched the operation with a fair degree of concern. Beyond them, Panacea stood next to Taylor; the two girls had unconsciously clasped hands.
The Dallon girl was describing to Taylor what the waldos were doing; Emily belatedly recalled that Panacea had gotten enough training for an honorary medical degree, over and above her healing powers.
"So that was the bomb?" asked Danny; they had all jumped when the Dragon unit had grabbed something small, taken two steps and exploded.
"It seems so," Piggot told him.
They watched the waldos closing up the incision in Michael Allen's neck. The mechanical arms were swift and efficient, and soon, all that was visible was a thin red line.
The Director turned to Amy. "Panacea, would you consider that Michael Allen is out of danger?"
Amy nodded, without taking her eyes from the scene beyond the window. "Yes. I'd have to check him personally to be absolutely sure, but … "
"Good." Piggot lifted a comm unit to her mouth. "Shut down the waldos."
One of the techs stepped over to the waldo control box. Even as two of the arms slid IV needles into the back of Allen's hand, he pressed a switch. The waldo arms went limp, retracting automatically to their rest position over the box.
"Wait, what?" asked Danny. "What did you do that for?" The two girls were looking around in concern as well.
Piggot couldn't believe she had to actually explain this. "Bonesaw is a supervillain with a long history of mutilating people and rebuilding them to the point where they are no longer human. Security is out of danger. I don't know what he did to convince her to operate on him, but there is no sense in giving her time to decide not to help him any more. Ordinary medical staff can cover this from here on."
Danny grimaced. "I guess … but it seems a little cold, a little mistrusting, to me. After all, she just saved his life."
"Dragon saved his life, at the expense of her own remote unit," the Director reminded him.
Taylor turned to Amy. "There was more to it than that, wasn't there?"
The biokinetic's face was troubled. "There was, but … I didn't know that he had Bonesaw doing the operation. I don't know that I would have been happy with it. She didn't do anything wrong, and some of the things she did during the operation were sheer brilliance, but still … he picked Bonesaw over me … "
"Hey." Taylor put an arm around her shoulders. "Cheer up. You're there as the backstop, remember? If it went wrong, he wanted you to put him back together, not her."
Amy nodded. "I guess." But her voice was still doubtful.
Piggot's comm chimed. She answered it. "Yes?"
"Ma'am, I have Bonesaw wanting to know what happened to the waldo link, and is the patient all right."
She smiled grimly. "Tell her that he's fine, and that she's off the case. Piggot, out."
"Ma'am." The comm went quiet.
The Director turned to the Heberts and their guest. "If you want to wait for him to wake up, be my guest. But it may be a while. Myself, I have work to do." Turning, she walked off toward the elevators.
Michael Allen was out of danger. But it still left the question of what to do about him.
She'd have to face that, sooner or later.
It could wait.
But not too long.
I gradually swam back to consciousness.
I'd been under anaesthesia before, but it was a long time ago. I had no baseline with which to compare this awakening.
It wasn't overly pleasant, but nor was it agonising. There was a steady pain at the side of my neck, which my befuddled brain soon deciphered. Oh yeah. Surgery.
My eyes opened slowly, with a little difficulty, and I swallowed. Or tried to. Oh yeah. Cotton mouth. That's one of the not-fun bits about being involuntarily asleep.
"He's awake," I heard someone say. My brain slotted pieces together – adolescent, teenage, female – and came up with a name. Amy. A blurry figure moved into my line of sight.
"Shut your eyes," she murmured; obediently, I did so. Something cool and damp ran across my eyes, and when I re-opened them, they weren't nearly as sticky, or blurry.
"Mouth," she ordered next; I opened my mouth. A straw was inserted; I sucked on it, and got cool water. It soaked into my parched tissues, so I sucked some more, and let it trickle down my throat. Heaven.
"Don't drink too much," she cautioned me, removing the straw and putting her hand on my forehead. "How do you feel?"
I blinked up at her. She was still wearing the same clothes I had last seen her in, and she didn't look overly tired, so … that meant … dammit, brain was still half out of it.
"You didn't heal me, did you?" I asked, and could have immediately bitten my tongue.
Her expression turned a little hurt. "No," she told me. "You said not to." Though I could have, easily, she didn't say out loud.
I looked around. The décor gave it away; I was still in the PRT base, probably in the infirmary proper.
"Help me sit up?" I asked. "Please?"
With the assistance of a sickbay attendant, she helped me to a sitting position. My brain cleared a little more, and I squinted at my bare wrist, then at where my watch sat, on the bedside table. "Dammit," I muttered. When I've just woken up, I usually need my reading glasses to make sense of where the hands are. "What time is it?"
"Half past nine at night," she informed me tartly. "You really should stay in bed. You were just operated on; you're still weak."
I nodded. "I probably should, yeah. But I got places to be." I paused. "Still Friday, yes?"
She nodded. "It is. Riley – Bonesaw – finished operating on you an hour ago. Dragon is inbound with another remote suit, to reclaim the surgical waldos."
I blinked. "Okay. Um … what happened to the first unit?"
She grimaced. "The bomb went unstable just as they were removing it. Dragon shielded you from the blast, but the suit was destroyed."
I felt a chill. "Wow. Okay. Remind me to thank her."
Her tone was somewhere near Arctic. "I will."
I sighed. "Amy."
She looked at me. "Yes?" The tone of her voice had not altered.
"I'm sorry."
A blink. "What?"
"I said, I'm sorry. For hurting your feelings. You're still upset about me refusing your healing, aren't you?"
She compressed her lips, turned her head away. "It doesn't matter."
This was, of course, girl code for 'it matters a lot'.
I spoke clearly and sincerely. "Amy. Really. I'm sorry. I know exactly what your powers can do. I know you could have healed me, once the bomb was out, so cleanly that I would never have known the difference. I know this, and under ordinary circumstances, I would not have hesitated to allow you to do this."
She glanced around at me briefly. "Ordinary circumstances?"
I shrugged. "Ones in which you were not undergoing therapy. Right now, your emotions are in flux. Letting yourself worry about who to heal and who not to heal, that's a whole level of complication that your head does not need. You need to be able to concentrate entirely upon sorting out the issues that have been building up for the last ten years, and what's happening around you right now, without adding more things to worry about."
Slowly, she turned to face me. I waited. Her expression was vulnerable. "Do you really mean that?"
I nodded, carefully. "Yes. Totally. I appreciate the concern, I really do. And if it came down to you specifically being the only person able to save my life, if there was no other way, then hell yes, absolutely, I would ask. But it wasn't like that. And right now, your mental health is more important than my physical health."
She blinked. "You're serious."
I nodded, and regretted it; my neck hurt. "Totally. One of the things I am dedicated to is ensuring your well-being, even at the expense of my own."
She sat, apparently without noticing, in the chair that was placed beside the bed. "I … I don't know what to say about that."
"Take it at face value," I suggested. "It's true, after all." I turned my head, wincing at the pain in the side of my neck, saw the IV lines leading into my wrist. "Wow, they found a vein. Normally it takes them three tries and a search party."
"Bonesaw did it," Amy explained, her expression becoming more animated. "Before they shut off the connection."
I blinked. "Shut it off? Why?"
She shrugged. "The operation was over. She had done something to fix the damage done to your tissues -"
I held up a finger. "Damage?"
"They froze the bomb with liquid nitrogen before they pulled it."
I made a mental note to request the footage of this incident. It would make an awesome talking point at parties. "Okay, froze the bomb, pulled it, Dragon shielded me, it went boom. So then Riley operated on me … and they shut her out of the loop?"
Amy frowned. "It was Director Piggot's decision. You were out of danger. She didn't want Bonesaw using the waldos to do something she wasn't supposed to."
I tried to shake my head, gave it up as a bad idea. It hurt worse than nodding. "Okay, can we call her Riley, please?" I asked.
Amy frowned. "What's the difference?"
"Much more than the difference between Amy Dallon – or Amelia Claire Lavere – and Panacea," I explained. "Bonesaw is the villain who murdered her way across America at the side of Jack Slash. Riley is the little girl who was broken psychologically six years ago, who staged a comeback just in time to save my life. They are not the same person. Bonesaw is the persona she adopted out of self-preservation. Riley is the real deal. Calling her one name or the other reinforces that persona. Okay?"
"Uh, okay, sure," she agreed. "Once, uh, Riley was done, the Director switched her out of the loop. We moved you to the sickbay, and I've been keeping an eye on you ever since."
"Taylor and Danny?" I asked.
"Oh, they're just outside. I'll tell them you're awake."
"I'll tell them myself," I corrected her. "Help me get up."
She shook her head disapprovingly. "If you hurt yourself, I'm going to make you ask pretty-please for help before I heal you." I was almost sure she was joking.
Almost.
Riley sat in her cell, sourly eyeing the unresponsive waldo controls. "Bitch," she muttered. She meant Piggot, of course. "I operated in good faith, and what do I get? Distrust and fucking ingratitude."
She had finished closing up the wound in Mike's neck and inserted the drip needles with ease. But just as she had begun checking his vital signs, the goggles went dark and the controls went inactive. At first she had thought that there was a malfunction somewhere, and she had called to the guards over the cell intercom to let the people upstairs know about it. But they had blandly informed her that her services were no longer required, by order of Director Piggot.
Morosely, she stared at the floor of the cell. She had been riding the high of a risky but successful operation, and then it had all been taken away from her. Bitterness burned through her. Served her right for trusting them to play straight. Just a little concession for what she had done, was all she asked. She hadn't even gotten the pat on the back that had been promised her by Mike.
Last time I do anything for anyone ...
"Should you really be up?" asked Danny doubtfully.
"Probably not," I agreed cheerfully, "but hey, I've made a practice this last week of doing things I really shouldn't, so why break the habit now?"
Doing up my belt, I sat down on the chair and reached for my boots. As I bent over, my head swam. "Wooo," I murmured dizzily.
Danny supported me by the shoulder. "You should really be back in bed."
"I'll be good," I insisted. "I'm feeling stronger already. I'd have trouble fighting off a determined kitten right now, but that's still better than I was doing five minutes ago."
On the second try, I got my boots, and put them on. Carefully I stood up, trying to work past the feeling of light-headedness. "Bloody hell," I muttered. "How much blood did I lose?"
Amy pulled the curtain aside. "Enough to put an ordinary man on his ass," she told me disapprovingly. "But you've got so much body mass -"
I grinned. "You can say 'fat', you know," I told her.
She wrinkled her nose. "If you say so. In any case, you're big enough that you'll be weak for a while but not incapacitated. I would strongly suggest rehydration and a good meal. Two good meals."
I tilted my head, carefully. "Wouldn't say no to that." Holding up my wrist, where I was still tethered to the IV stand, I indicated the needles. "Can we take these out yet?"
"That depends," she commented. "That one is putting saline into you, to combat the loss of blood. The other one's a painkiller, for your neck."
Involuntarily, I touched the bandage on the side of my neck. Every time I moved my head in any way, my neck hurt. And that was with painkillers. "Maybe we should leave them in for the time being."
Amy smiled for the first time. "Good idea."
"What's a good idea?" The curtain was pulled all the way aside, and Director Piggot stepped through. She stared at me. "Mr Allen. You're not supposed to be up."
I shrugged, carefully. "People keep telling me that. But I have places to be and people to talk to."
She looked at me suspiciously. "Such as?"
I told her.
She shook her head. "Bad idea."
The cell door opened. She didn't bother looking around. It was probably just another guard, checking on her …
"Riley."
Her head whipped around and she stared at the heavy-set man, leaning on an IV stand. Beside him stood Panacea, in civilian clothes, as well as two people she didn't know – a teenage girl and and older man – and Director Piggot herself.
"What the hell?" she blurted. "You aren't supposed to be up, you stupid idiot. I just pulled a bomb out of your goddamn neck."
"Yeah, so I heard," he agreed. "I came down to say thanks. I really appreciate it. You went above and beyond."
She shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable at the praise, knowing what the woman in black had told her about the man before her. "Yeah, well, Bakuda's a bitch." Bitterness prompted her to go on. "And your fucking Director's not much better."
"Right on the first case, but on the second, let's just go with 'cautious' for the time being," Mike allowed, glancing back to the fuming face of Director Piggot.
"I told you this was a bad idea -" snapped Piggot.
" - you did, yes," agreed Mike. "But it's something I have to do." He looked at Riley. "I have to make this right."
"Make what right?" asked Panacea.
"When the Director had them pull the plug, she did to Riley what you thought I did to you," he explained, a little obliquely. It seemed to make sense to Panacea, though; she looked at Riley with a different expression.
Riley looked through the perspex at them. "So what are you gonna do?" she asked. "Say you're sorry and walk away?"
Mike appeared to consider that, then he turned to the Director. "Can you get me in there?" he asked.
Piggot shook her head vehemently. "Hell no!" she exclaimed. "Let you in there with that mass murderer? Do you have any idea exactly how dangerous she is?"
Mike nodded. "Actually, yes I do. Probably more than you do. But let's look at it this way. She just saved my life. Why would she turn around and kill me now?"
The Director was adamant. "She doesn't need a reason. She could just decide to do it, out of the blue. And even if I sent guards in there with you, that still doesn't guarantee you'd be protected."
"Director." Mike's voice was flat. "Remember, outside the school, when I said I knew I wouldn't be killed when I went in there? I knew it then and I know it now. Riley won't hurt me."
"You came out of there with a bomb in your neck," she retorted. "You could come out of that cell with three different pathogens in your blood."
"True." Mike looked at Panacea. "You figure you can counter anything she might put in me?"
Panacea snorted. "In my sleep." She glanced toward Riley. "You think she will?"
Mike shook his head slightly. "Nope." He also glanced toward Riley. "I come in there, you gonna do anything nasty to me?"
Riley shook her head. "But why are you coming in here?"
"I told you. I have to make things right."
Director Piggot shook her head. "I'm telling you, this is a bad idea."
I grimaced. "I don't want to go against you, I really don't. But … tell you what. I've been considering this for a while. I'm going to be talking to some people tonight about saving the world. You let me go in that cell, I'll invite you along. You've pretty well earned it anyway."
She stared at me. "You're serious."
I nodded very cautiously. "Yes. I know you really want to learn some more about what I know; well, here's your chance."
Her reply was immediate. "Will I find out how you know it?"
I rubbed my beard, thinking. "Not the whole story, but … some of it, sure."
She looked at me and then at the cell. "And you're absolutely certain that you will leave that cell unscathed."
"As certain as I can be of anything in this world," I assured her.
A grimace pulled at the corner of her mouth. "I hate being pushed into a corner," she growled.
I spread my hands, in lieu of shrugging. "I could just walk away," I offered. "I don't want to, but I could."
"No." She shook her head. "No, damn you." Turning to the guard, she told him, "Let him in the cell."
I stood alone in the small area before the perspex sheet. Behind me, the heavy door was securely closed. The perspex sheet split down the middle, moved aside. Behind it, the bars opened just as easily. I stepped through. The perspex sheet, the bars, closed behind me. I was locked in.
Riley and I faced each other, just a couple of yards apart.
"Okay," she ventured quietly. "What now? What can you say that you couldn't say out there?"
I moved over to the bench at the side of the cell, sat down on it, careful not to tangle the IV lines. "For a start, sorry for the way you've been treated." I patted the bench beside me. "Sit down, kiddo. Let's talk."
Cautiously, she sat. "Talk? What about?"
I shrugged, one-shouldered. "Anything you want to talk about. I'd like to say thank you, one more time." I raised an eyebrow. "And I'm curious about what she said."
"She?" asked Riley innocently.
I grinned. "Yeah. Her." We both knew exactly who I was talking about.
'Who the hell is he talking about?"
The guard took one look at Piggot's angry face. "Uh, no idea, ma'am."
"Someone's been in there. Someone's been in communication with Bonesaw. Find out who. I want to know yesterday!"
"On it, ma'am!" The guard began checking back through the computer logs.
"Oh, uh, she told me about what you've been doing. What you've been trying to do. How you're helping people and saving the world." She paused, as if trying to work this next bit out. "And how you're doing it without any powers." Looking up at me, she added, "Is that true? No powers?"
"Not a one," I assured her. "What you see is what you get."
She tilted her head at me. "You know, I could give you some improvements. If this is not unusual for you, then maybe you could do with some bone strengthening, maybe replace some of that extra weight with muscle. If you're going to keep doing this sort of thing, I mean."
"Hm." I thought about it for a moment. "Transhumanism for the win, huh?"
"Sure," Riley told me. "It doesn't have to be nasty shit like I put in me. Purely defensive stuff. Make it harder for people to hurt you."
"Tempting," I commented. "Very tempting. And down the track, I may just take you up on it. But right now, I don't know if I could talk the Director into it."
She wrinkled her nose. "She hates me. Hates all capes."
"Yeah well, she had a bad experience, once upon a time." I heaved myself to my feet. "Well, thanks for the talk. And thanks for, you know, the life-saving surgery."
She shrugged it off. "It wasn't a problem. Dragon's waldos were world-class. They did all the work; I just did the driving."
I raised an eyebrow. "Not what I was told. Anyway, thanks. Hug before I go?"
She stared at me, wide-eyed. "You'd trust me that far?"
I nodded. "You realise I'm going to be disinfected to a fare-thee-well as soon as I leave here. But yes, I personally do trust you that far."
"Holy shit," murmured Taylor to Amy. "I just figured it out."
"Figured what out?" asked Amy, staring intently at the screen.
"He's doing the same thing he's done with me and you."
Amy glanced at her quickly, then back at the screen. "What do you mean?"
"He's helping her. Saving her. Giving her a second chance."
Amy glanced at Taylor again, then stared back at the screen once more. Her jaw slowly dropped.
"Holy shit. He is too."
Riley let me hug her; she was slender and petite, but I thought I felt things that were not bones under her skin. After a few moments, I felt her arms creep around me. She leaned into me and let me hold her close.
"I haven't been hugged in so long," she murmured into my chest.
"Hey," I told her. "It's all good."
We moved apart. She sniffled slightly. Her eyes dared me to make something of it. I said nothing.
"So," she observed at last. "What happens now?"
"Well, I go out and get disinfected, and then go on about my business," I told her. "You get moved to a slightly nicer cell, if Director Piggot's got anything like a heart, and maybe get given reading material. I'll come visit when I can." I paused. "Also, quick question. Would you like to be in on saving the world?"
She stared at me. "I … what?"
"Saving the world," I repeated. "It's a work in progress at the moment, but I'd like to have as many good people on side early on as I can. Would you like to be in on it?"
I had obviously just taken her utterly by surprise. She could not seem to formulate an adequate response. "I … I don't know."
"Think about it," I suggested. "I'll be back sometime." Turning, I rapped on the perspex sheet. It opened, and I left the cell.
Emily Piggot glowered at Michael Allen as he pulled his T-shirt on again. "I should arrest you right now," she growled.
"I'm sure you've got your reasons," he replied agreeably.
"You made me look bad in front of my men, and in front of the Heberts," she snapped. "Plus, someone got in to talk to Bonesaw, and you didn't tell me about it!"
He sighed. "Riley."
"What?"
His voice was patient. "Her name is Riley."
Hers was not. "Is there a difference?"
He raised both his eyebrows. "Yes." He didn't elaborate farther.
She scowled. "Well, be that as it may. Someone got in. You knew about it. You didn't warn me."
He nodded, carefully. "That 'someone' is the person who convinced Riley to operate."
Her voice was hard and flat. "How did she get in and out without anyone knowing? Who is she? Where is she now?"
"Director." He waited till he had her attention. "I will tell you this, and only this. It's the same person who took Coil from the van, last night. I will not tell you who she is, or where. Because knowing who she is would do you no good at all, and potentially a great deal of harm, and I can't tell you where she is. Because I do not know."
She shook her head. "I should arrest you. I really should."
"It's your option," he told her. "But I do have to do this thing tonight. And don't forget, you're invited."
"Is this about Cauldron?" she asked, greatly daring.
To her immense satisfaction, she saw that she had jolted him. "You know the name." It wasn't a question.
"I do. And I know other things. So don't play the all-knowing Thinker with me. I want answers."
He gave her a careful appraisal. "You'll get them. Soon. In the meantime, do not say that name too loudly, nor any of the other ones that you may have heard. They will draw very unfriendly attention."
His tone was absolutely matter-of-fact. He wasn't threatening her, she realised. The words were phrased as a friendly warning; she chose to treat them as such.
"So when and where is this meeting?"
He thought for a moment. "My place. More or less as soon as I get home."
"You're very sure of that."
A one-shouldered shrug. "There's a precog involved. When I get there is when they'll start arriving."
She gave him a calculating look. "So who else is invited?"
"Who else have you told about Cauldron?"
"Maybe one or two people," she hedged.
He gave her a direct look. "Well, bring one or two people. So long as you believe they can keep their mouths shut."
"And if they can't?" she asked warily.
"They will," he assured her. "Or they won't get to attend the meeting."
"And who are the other people attending the meeting?" She knew, or thought she knew, but she wanted to see if he would let anything slip.
He grinned, as if hugely amused by a joke. "Oh, you'll find out."
Which was, to her mind, as good as a signed affidavit.
I had thought long and hard about bringing Taylor in on this. She would, if my personal theories had any bearing on reality, be incredibly useful even if she wasn't needed to become Khepri. But if I had her come along, then that would leave Amy wondering why she wasn't in on whatever I had Taylor doing. The last thing I needed was to have Amy wonder once more about whether I trusted her.
I did, of course. I would have had no qualms about bringing her into the inner circle of what I was privately calling the Saving the World Committee. But that in itself would dump another load of stress on her mind, right at the time when I was doing my best to ensure that she was free of stress.
So. No Amy. Which meant no Taylor.
I'd fill them in both later, of course. Just not right at the moment.
Director Piggot and I exited the decontamination station; I still smelled of whatever they had used to take the top layer of my skin clean off. Amy had also checked me out, of course, and had found nothing. But the PRT had their regulations, and so I had to be manually disinfected. The dressing had been removed and destroyed, and a new one put in its place. Somewhere along the line, I had lost the IV stand, but then, I was learning to live without it.
Taylor and Danny moved forward to greet me; I went to fist-bump Taylor, then staggered back a step as she grabbed me in a fierce hug.
"Don't you ever do something like that again!" she demanded.
"Like what?" I asked. "Get a bomb put in my neck, capture a supervillain, get the bomb taken out by another supervillain, or visit said supervillain in her cell?"
"Any of it! All of it!" she snapped, letting go and standing back so that I could get the full wattage of her angry glare. "You should leave the heroics to the people with powers!"
I shrugged carefully. "It seemed to be the thing to do at the time?"
She rolled her eyes. "Dad, tell him!"
Danny stepped forward and clasped my hand. "I'm glad you're alive. So is Taylor. She just has trouble expressing things like that when she's upset."
I shook his hand. "So am I. Trust me on this."
He chuckled and slapped me on the shoulder. I still wasn't feeling too great, and my knees nearly buckled. "You'll do, Mike. You'll do."
Looking past him, I saw Amy standing there, slightly withdrawn. I moved over to her. "Hey, kiddo. What's up?"
"Bonesaw killed people," she stated. "Lots of people."
I nodded. "That's true."
"And you're trying to help her, to give her a second chance."
I gave her another nod, this one more respectful. "Right again. Nicely picked."
"It was Taylor who realised it," she admitted. "What I want to know is … you helped Taylor, even though she's only just starting. You helped me, even though nothing really bad's happened to me, yet. And you're helping her. Riley. Is there some point at which you don't help people?"
I stopped and considered that one. "If I know they can be helped," I decided, "I help them. If I think they can be helped, I'll help 'em if I get the chance. If I don't think they can be helped … " I gestured, a throwaway motion. "Jack Slash would never have accepted a genuine offer of help. Eidolon killed him on sight because I said so."
I paused; everyone, from Director Piggot on down, was staring at me.
"Eidolon … killed the Nine … on your say-so?" choked out Danny.
I spread my hands. "What? I needed them gone, and he offered. Otherwise, Jack Slash would have triggered the apocalypse in two years' time."
Danny was shaking his head. "You know, every now and again, I get to thinking you're just a regular guy, caught up in strange happenings. And then you go and say something like that."
I grinned at him. "I am a regular guy."
He snorted. "As if. Listen, it might not be a school night, but I've got to get the kids home before it gets too late. We'll see you later."
"Count on it," I agreed. I bumped fists with Taylor and then Amy, and shook hands with Danny one more time. Director Piggot and I walked them to the elevator, and watched as the multi-leaved doors closed behind them.
I turned to her. "Can I get a lift home?"
She smiled. "I'm sure we can accommodate you."
I snapped my fingers. "But before we do … I need to make a phone call."
Gladys Knott sat at her personal computer, grading papers. Every time she stopped, the memories of the last time she had seen Michael Allen rose before her. Sitting on the steps, with that horrible bloodstain on the side of his neck, PRT troops forbidding anyone to come close.
She didn't know whether he was alive or dead; they had taken him away in one of their trucks. He had not looked at all well.
Tears threatened to roll down her cheeks. She blew her nose, typed a few caustic comments, and awarded a C- grade to the paper she was working on. Then she pulled up the next one.
The phone rang, a welcome distraction. She picked it up.
"Hello, Gladys Knott speaking."
"Gladys, hi, it's me."
For the longest moment, she had no idea who was speaking. And then the world spun around her. She felt as though she was falling, even though she was still firmly seated in the chair.
" … Michael?"
"That's me, good looking," he replied cheerfully. "How you doing? Hope you weren't too upset this afternoon."
"Upset? You listen to me, Michael Allen. It's not your job to confront supervillains -"
"Gladys."
" - and to just throw yourself willy-nilly into danger like that - "
"Gladys."
" - it's totally irresponsible, and you could have gotten yourself badly hurt or killed -"
"Gladys."
She paused. "What?"
"I'm fine," he told her. "A little bit shaken up, but I'm good. They've been asking me questions at the PRT building, but I'm going home right now. I'd ask you over, but there's a few things I need to sort out."
"Does this have anything to do with what we talked about last night?"
He paused. "Well, yes," he admitted.
"Will you be in danger?"
"I don't think so. There's no reason for it."
She sighed. "Very well. Go home. Be safe."
"Thanks. I'll see you later."
"Yes. And thank you for the call, Michael. I feel much better now."
"Sorry I didn't call earlier. I was kind of busy."
She smiled. "That's all right. I will see you later."
"Saturday."
"Saturday."
She hung up, smiling, and gave the next paper a glowing A+.
Director Piggot's two invitees were, predictably, Armsmaster and Miss Militia. As they were going undercover, Armsmaster was without his trademark armour, although he wore a pair of glasses with an elaborate earpiece, and carried a suspiciously long, cylindrical case. Miss Militia, of course, was never unarmed.
Armsmaster – he had curtly told me to call him Colin – did the driving. He was efficient and skilled behind the wheel, handling the vehicle like an extension of his body. I would have been vastly unsurprised to find that he had done defensive driving courses.
Director Piggot sat in the front seat, while I shared the back with Hannah. This suited me; of the three, I got along best with her.
We chatted amiably and aimlessly as we drove, although I had no doubt that Colin's earpiece and glasses were giving him a blow-by-blow account of what lies and truths we were telling.
"So I've got to ask, is the Fugly Bob's Challenger really that big?" I asked when we were almost there. "I've heard about it, but hearing and seeing are two different things."
Hannah nodded. "Oh, yes. I've never tried one myself, but I've eaten at Fugly Bobs. It's just … enormous."
"That thing would clog your arteries before you finished it," Colin put in from the front seat.
"Oh god, I have no intention of even trying to eat one," I assured them. "I was just curious, is all."
Hannah grinned. "The man who tried one when I was there? He finished about three-quarters of his, then simply gave up. And he was bigger than you."
"Wow. Just wow."
"I hate to break this up," Colin commented, "but is this the right street?"
I glanced out the window. "Yeah, anywhere around here."
Colin pulled over, parking inconspicuously in a side street. We got out and locked the car, and I led the way toward my apartment complex.
Everything looked perfectly normal as I opened my front door. Which was why I was caught rather by surprise when the lights came on, and I found myself looking at a man in a business suit, sitting on my sofa. Flanking him were a man and a woman, also immaculately dressed.
Director Piggot stared at the three strangers. "You're not -" She caught herself, making me wonder momentarily what she had been about to say. She turned to me. "Are these the people you were going to have the meeting with?"
I shook my head, wincing at the pain from the incautious movement. "No. Most definitely not." Taking a step forward, I was about to speak when the man on the sofa rose to his feet.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am -"
"Kaiser."
The voice was Armsmaster's; it was echoed by a slight thump as he shook the cylindrical case off of his halberd, and the click-click-click as it unfolded and extended to its full length.
At the same time, Miss Militia suddenly held a large and dangerous-looking machine-gun. It was trained full on the man Colin had identified as Kaiser. I figured the other two must be Night and Fog; that was how he had gotten in.
I had to hand it to Kaiser; even faced with two deadly weapons – three; I realised that Director Piggot had drawn a pistol from a previously unsuspected shoulder holster and also had it trained on the crime boss – he kept his cool.
Even as the other two members of his group took half a step forward, he gestured them back.
"Peace, peace," he chuckled, his voice well modulated to embody friendliness and a lack of ill intent. "I am only here to speak with the man called Security. Michael Allen."
I found my voice with an effort. "Breaking and entering, huh? Ever heard of a handy device called a telephone? Saves on ugly little scenes like this."
He nodded, conceding the point. "It does, yes. But nor can you take the measure of a man over the telephone, Mr Allen. You cannot look him in the eye, gauge his worth."
His every word was reasonable, understandable, rational. The bastard had charisma to spare; even now, he had the gathering half under control, and he'd only spoken a couple dozen words.
I took a step forward, mindful to not block Miss Militia's line of fire. "Okay, let's get this absolutely clear, Anders. I don't like you. I don't like the cause you profess to believe in. I will never work for you." Folding my arms, I went on. "Now, were there any other questions?"
He tilted his head slightly, as if acknowledging a palpable hit. "Just a few. Why did you warn my wife of the impending event, and why did you not warn me?"
"I'll answer those in reverse order," I told him. "I just said, I don't like you. In fact, I despise the whole white-supremacist movement, and I don't know who's worse; the morons who actually believe that a lack of melanin is the true measure of a man, or the hypocrites who encourage that belief in others, just so they can capitalise on the morons. So I don't give a flying fuck if the entire Empire Eighty-Eight goes gurgling down the plughole. I really don't."
His face had darkened slightly, but he kept his outward cool. "But you did not unmask us yourself?"
I wanted to laugh in his face, but I restrained myself. "Fuck no. I could have, but that breaks the unwritten rules. I even tried to stop it from happening. Not from any concern for you personally, but for Kayden's sake."
"What is my wife to you?" he asked quietly.
"Nothing," I told him honestly. "We've never met. But I know a great deal about her. I know that what racist beliefs she once had, she got from you, but she doesn't live by them any more. I also know that she did love you once upon a time, and she had a crush on you before that, when you played basketball in high school. But you broke that love, destroyed it, when you played on it for your own ends. She doesn't love you; all she wants to do is make a good life for Aster. And I'd rather she had that chance. So I warned her, on the off-chance I would not be able to stop the infodump from going out. And as it happened ..." I spread my hands. "I was right to do so."
He frowned. "So you did warn her for the sake of the children."
"Exactly and precisely. Personally, I don't care what happens to you once people find out who you really are, but pulling that shit on kids is low. Also, if Kayden hadn't been warned, they would have taken Aster, and that would have meant a lot of bloodshed. I'd rather avoid that up front."
He paused, changing tack. "I understand that it was Coil who released the information. If you can tell me where to find him ..." The tone of his voice left little to the imagination.
Carefully, I shook my head. "Nope."
A frown. "Mr Allen, if it's a matter of money … "
I shook my head again. "I said no. But I will assure you of this. Right now, he's alive, and he's in a very bad place. One he's not getting out of."
His expression was thoughtful. "Well, all the same I think -"
"Mr Anders," I interrupted, "think about this. Leviathan was due to hit Brockton Bay in one month. During the course of the subsequent battle, the monster would have killed you, Menja and Krieg, and trapped Alabaster in a time bubble. I've taken steps that may just have averted the whole thing; as such, in a very real way, you owe me your life."
His head snapped up and he stared at me. "You can't be serious -" he began.
"I don't care whether you think I am or not, Mr Anders," I interrupted. "I would like you to leave."
"I had not finished speaking with you, Mr Allen -"
"No, but I've finished speaking with you. Take Geoff and Dorothy and leave my home, and never return. You will not, under any circumstances, be welcome here. Ever."
He tried to stare me down. I was scared, but I was also pissed. It was due to this man's actions that I had spent a really unpleasant afternoon with a bomb in my neck. "Go. Away."
His lips tightened. "Very well. We're going. But you really do need to think about talking to me."
"Thought about it. Decided against it. Go. Now."
We stood aside as Kaiser and his minions filed out the door; I closed it and locked it.
Everyone relaxed slightly; Armsmaster folded down his halberd once more.
"Tell me," asked Director Piggot in a slightly strained tone of voice. "Do you speak to all capes you encounter in your home in that tone of voice?"
I glanced at her. "Usually?" I asked. "Yeah."
She shook her head. "I wonder that you're still alive."
My grin held little humour. "I lead a charmed life."
Colin glanced around at me; my flippant remark must have registered as 'true' to him, much to his surprise. He was about to speak when something else caught his attention. Caught everyone's attention.
Entirely without fuss, a Door was opening in the living room wall.
"Why did you let him speak to you like that?" asked Geoff as they exited the apartment complex. "Even if he's done you a good turn, that was blatant disrespect."
"You do not pay much attention to the subtleties, do you?" asked Max. "I studied his posture. He was not a man who was terrified for his life, or even bluffing. He believed what he was saying, even to the part of Leviathan hitting Brockton Bay in four weeks."
"So what?" asked Dorothy.
"So he knows more than the best precogs have been able to foresee, and he casually told us that he changed matters. Altered things so that I will no longer die at the hands of Leviathan."
Geoff shrugged. "He could have been lying."
"Possibly. Although I do not believe it. I know how to get people to do what I want, and part of that involves knowing if they are trying to deceive me." He paused. "Also, if you had bothered to watch the news this afternoon, you would have found out that Bakuda attacked the school that he works at. She took a girl hostage, and he had to go in alone. He captured her, and Oni Lee hasn't been seen since."
Geoff and Dorothy looked at each other, then at Max. "Which means …?" asked Geoff.
"Which means," snapped Kaiser, "that until we know more about our Mr Allen, and why he had Director Piggot and two members of the Protectorate visiting, we don't go near him. Is that understood?"
Night and Fog nodded simultaneously.
"Good," he growled. "Let's go."
The weapons came out again, almost before I could blink. When Contessa emerged from the portal, she ignored them and stepped aside.
"Hey," I protested. "Friendly."
Armsmaster put up his halberd; Miss Militia turned her machine-gun into something small and innocuous. Director Piggot was still holstering her pistol when the other two entered the room.
Eidolon and Alexandria had obviously not been expecting guests; Contessa, equally obviously, knew all about it. Because Contessa. Right.
Alexandria stopped dead; Eidolon, behind her, almost bumped into her. Behind him, the portal winked out.
Alexandria spoke first; her tones were freezing, and boded ill for somebody.
"What," she hissed, "is going on here?"
"Contessa invited guests," I told her. "So I did too."
"Director Piggot? Armsmaster? Miss Militia?"
Eidolon shook his head. "Unacceptable!"
I moved around the table, fast. Eidolon didn't see me coming until I had him shoved against the wall. We were of a height, but I was heavier. "What's unacceptable is that you refused to take therapy until I told Alexandria there exactly what was at stake. What the fuck were you thinking?"
There was frozen silence for a second. Alexandria's cool voice broke it. "Mr Allen, please let him go. He's admitted to his mistake and he's sorry."
It was about then that I realised that I had my hands bunched in the folds of his cloak and was half-lifting him from the floor; I let go and stepped back. "Sorry," I apologised. "I've had a rough afternoon."
"That's quite all right," Eidolon replied graciously, as if I had not just assaulted him. "We heard about it ourselves. Capturing Bakuda, that's quite a feat."
"Yeah, well," I grunted, feeling slightly foolish now. "Shall we get started?"
"I still have not heard why you saw fit to invite people to our meeting," insisted Alexandria. "The more people who know about it -"
"They already know," put in Contessa. She had seated herself, and was examining a cookie closely.
We all looked at her.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" asked Alexandria.
Contessa took a bite from the cookie. "They already know," she repeated. "Armsmaster bugged this place last week. They've listened to the recording of your last meeting here. So Mr Allen's decision to bring them along is actually a good thing."
I opened my mouth and closed it, then turned to Director Piggot. She avoided my gaze; Colin met it directly, challengingly.
"But -" began Eidolon, then stopped.
Alexandria stared at Contessa. "When we came through, I asked you if there was anything we needed to worry about. And you replied, 'nothing whatsoever'. You lied to me."
"I did not," Contessa retorted without heat. "The presence of Director Piggot, Armsmaster and Miss Militia is a good thing. The recording that makes their presence inevitable is thus also a good thing. Nothing to worry about, in other words."
"Why is it a good thing?" asked Eidolon stubbornly.
I took that question. "Because this 'saving the world' thing needs to stop being a Cauldron only thing. Seriously. How much headway have you guys made since you killed Eden? Exactly fuck and all. I've stopped three serious threats in one week, and that's only if you count the Endbringers as a single threat."
"I stopped the Nine -" he began.
"Based on information I gave you. And only after I said to go ahead with it," I interrupted him. "So yeah, I'll claim at least an assist on that one. So anyway. To save the world, we're gonna need more than the Breakfast Club here."
Silence greeted my comment. Contessa let out a slight snort of amusement, which she muffled when I glanced at her.
" … Breakfast Club?" enquired Colin carefully.
I waved it away. "Movie reference. Anyway. People we're gonna need on side. Every single person who can shape matter or form illusions. Every Brute who can land a hit and take one too. Healers. Movers. Blasters. Thinkers; specifically, Accord and Tattletale. Any other precogs we can get on board. Doormaker and the Clairvoyant. Leet. String Theory; or at least, access to her lab. Oh, and Dragon is an absolute necessity. In her full capacity. Also, Weaver, as a backup."
I looked over at Contessa. "You're gonna be losing Eden. Sorry."
"Wait," put in Colin. "Did you say 'Leet'? That loser?"
I raised an eyebrow. "That 'loser' can build anything, once," I reminded him. "Anything."
He stopped, looking thoughtful. I nodded. "Yeah. Okay. We can add names to the list as we get to them. Now for the main course. What you've all been waiting for." I grinned, or at least, showed my teeth. "Welcome to Saving the World, one-oh-one."
"First off," I began, "I've got to explain to you a little bit about the bastard we're looking to kill. Some of you may know this already. Some may not."
I glanced over at where Director Piggot had taken a seat, alongside Colin and Hannah. "Just in case you were wondering, this is Scion we're talking about."
"Golden boy," Hannah replied, in tones of revelation. "That's who you were talking about."
"Got it in one," I agreed.
"But he's a hero!" Colin blurted.
I shook my head. "Nope. Just bored. Doing what a derelict hobo in London tells him to do."
Stunned silence. Contessa munched another cookie.
"So, Scion," I went on. "Real name Zion. At least, that's what he calls himself. He's not human. Never was. His race is … well, the best description I can come up with is 'giant multidimensional space whale'."
More silence, though Alexandria and Eidolon were nodding to themselves. Hannah was looking very thoughtful indeed, and I figured I knew why.
"But what does he want with Earth?" she asked, stealing a cookie for herself.
I nodded carefully. "Okay, short form? His race seeks energy. Long term, they're seeking a way to reverse entropy, to stave off the heat death of the universe. Long ago, they evolved a way to generate and store super-powers into what they call 'shards', which they can swap between each other. They travel, mainly in pairs, around the universe. They find a planet with sentient life, and they seed it with shards. These shards hide in pocket universes and attach to people; when those people undergo a trigger event, the attachment goes live, and the person has access to the power embodied in that shard." I paused. "You would call them 'agents'."
"You say that like it's a bad thing." Colin objected. "And how do you know that they call them 'shards', anyway?"
I grinned. "Questions from the peanut gallery will be answered later. So, why am I saying it like it's a bad thing? Well, that's a question I will answer now. See, they're looking to upgrade their shards, teach them new tricks and gimmicks. So they become beings like those on the world, and subtly foster conflict, so that people have to use their powers, and more people have trigger events. About three hundred years later, or so many generations, once enough shards have been improved, they harvest the lot, destroy the world for its energy, and go on to the next Petri dish, I mean, inhabited world."
Director Piggot broke the silence this time. "You're sure about this."
I nodded carefully. "Yes, ma'am. One hundred percent."
"So where do the Endbringers come into it?"
No-one was looking at Eidolon; he was looking at the table. I grinned again. "Well, see, we're gonna have to backtrack a bit here. Zion and his partner Eden – he's the Warrior, she's the Thinker – were approaching Earth when Eden had a bit of a close encounter with another entity. We call him Abbadon."
Alexandria looked up at this. "Who's 'we'?" she asked curiously.
"Me and some others," I answered obliquely. "So Eden and Abbadon have their swap meet – that's how they swap shards, basically bash against each other in passing – and then go on their way. So Eden's just picked up this great new shard that lets her model future events really, really closely. A path to victory, you might say. So she's modelling out the entire three hundred year span of their time on Earth, with everything plotted neatly, but she's picked up a bit more weight than she had intended, and she spent a little too long playing with this shard, and she kind of failed to carry out step one."
"Which was?" asked Colin, as it was apparent that I wanted someone to ask that question.
I grinned without humour. "Land safely."
Director Piggot, Colin and Hannah each winced. Contessa suddenly looked enlightened. Yup, that's how you got your shard.
"Which, by the way," I added as an aside, "is why we call her Eden. Because now she's nothing but a big garden of flesh." I paused, waiting for comments, then went on. "Now, there was a shard she held which was designed to not be released into the wild, as it were. Its purpose was to create up to twenty super-weapons; sentient, hugely powerful, massively dangerous. These would sit on the borders between nations and foster even more conflict. But it sort of ended up in someone's hands without the proper control mechanism attached. So they're being driven by subconscious impulse right now."
Hannah spoke up. "But you say that's dealt with."
I nodded, and looked directly at the cowled hero. "Yeah. Eidolon's taking therapy. I hope."
The cowled hero winced. "I swear to you, I am." He put his masked face in his hands. "Now will you please get off the topic?"
"Sure, sure," I told him. "I'll drop it. Now. Eden's dead – due mainly to Contessa's efforts – and Zion's alone. But he has no purpose. He can barely interact with people. So he starts doing what he's told by a homeless bum called Kevin Norton. Unfortunately, he's going to get sick and tired of that in about fourteen to sixteen years, and start doing bad things. Or, if Jack Slash was still around to be captured in two years, Jack starts monologuing, Zion hears him, and takes it to heart." I paused for effect. "Two billion people died, over about half a dozen Earths, before he was stopped. They called it Golden Morning."
"But he was stopped," Alexandria observed.
"Yes."
"Who did it?"
I shook my head slightly. "Wrong question."
Colin frowned. "What's the right question?"
Alexandria beat me to the punch. "Ah. How was it done?"
I showed my teeth. "With great fuckin' difficulty."
"You have to understand," I went on, waving a forkful of my microwaved meal, "that Zion is not what he appears to be. He's multidimensional. There's a whole planetoid worth of him out there. And he's got access to all the powers. All of them. So it's not a case of a one-hit kill. Also, he's not the sharpest spoon in the drawer, but he does understand conflict. Fighting. Fall into a pattern, and he will beat it. With me so far?" I took a bite, chewed and swallowed.
Nods around the table indicated assent.
"Therefore, you need a triple pronged attack. First; you need to hit him hard. Really hard. As hard as you can. As often as you can.. Movers will keep pulling his opponents away just before he can retaliate and take them off the board. Injured ones go to healers, to be shoved back into play as soon as they're good to go. This is going to piss him off. The second prong is emotional."
"Emotional?" asked Eidolon. "He doesn't really have emotions, does he?"
"Sure he does," I told him. "He's sad. He radiates it. He's mourning his lost partner." I pointed at Contessa. "I know you've been making Case 53s to use as camouflage. You need to let him find Eden. And you need to destroy her. Violently. A nuke should be about right. But first, if you can animate that humanoid section, that would be perfect. She's awake, she moves, she opens her eyes … and then she blows up."
Hannah's eyes were wide. "That's cruel," she murmured.
I nodded. "We need to hit him in the feels, as often as possible, as hard as possible. Blasters, close ranged attacks, dropping a mountain on him, time-freeze attacks, then just as he's getting a feel for the pattern, have a bunch of shapers show him her face in the clouds, in the water, in the rocks. He freezes for a second, then someone else hits him in the back of the neck at Mach fifteen." I held up a finger. "But here's what also needs to be planned. The images can start fairly crude, but toward the end, they have to be absolutely lifelike. They have to make him think that it really could be her."
Colin frowned. "How do we do that?"
I shrugged slightly. "How about we recruit a 'loser' who can build anything once? Because you can be sure he's never built a lifelike simulacrum of Zion's girlfriend."
Nods around the table. Piggot raised a finger. "All right, you've told us about the brute force and the emotional attacks. What's the third prong?"
I grinned. "We kick him up the arse."
Alexandria frowned. "Explain."
"He's multi-dimensional," I pointed out. "Which means that the majority of his body is in another dimension, safe from attack. Except that there's a cape in New York who can bypass that."
Everyone looked puzzled, then Alexandria's face cleared. "Flechette," she stated.
I nodded to her. "Exactly and precisely. She can put an effect on a weapon so that it hits all dimensions simultaneously. Ignores little things like armour and force fields. Even Zion's scared of her effect. Imagine if, say, Leet built a device which simulated her ability, and Dragon retro-engineered it?"
"Dragon -" began Director Piggot, then stopped.
" - is a Tinker," I confirmed. "Her trick is to copy any other Tinker's work."
Colin blinked. "That could be … interesting."
"Yup. Now. Zion would be watching for something like that, so you don't hit him with it until he's in a raging frenzy. Being hit from all sides, seeing the face of his dead partner everywhere, no-one's standing still long enough to be hit. You've got to overwhelm him. And then you hit him with the Flechette effect so that you've got access through the visible body to the real body, and then hit the real body with the big guns."
I leaned back and laced my fingers across my stomach. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you kill a god."
"There are still issues that need to be worked out," Director Piggot stated carefully. "People going into combat against Scion? They'd be terrified."
"Hmm," I commented. "You have a point. Now, if only you had someone who could do something like sing to stop them from being scared."
Colin looked at me almost accusingly. "Canary?"
I grinned. "Canary. Fit everyone with Endbringer arm bracers and she can sing them all to calm alertness."
Hannah frowned. "How are we going to coordinate attacks? The timing, the number of elements that will need to be calculated … "
I looked at Colin. "How's Dragon's multi-tasking going on these days?"
He blinked. "Oh. Right."
"Okay, all of this is well and good," Alexandria stated, "but what if he has some strategy, some power that brings us to a screeching halt before we even get out of the gate? How do we know when to attack so that it will work?"
I glanced at Contessa. "So, how's Coil doing these days?"
Piggot sat up. "You're the one who took Coil?"
The black-clad woman nodded. "I am. He's doing well. I should have him properly conditioned in the next few days. He'll be able to help us begin to work out detailed simulations of how to attack Zion with greatest effect in just a few weeks."
The Director looked dangerous. "Am I to understand that he's -"
" - in exactly the same situation as he would have put Dinah Alcott in, if I hadn't acted," I cut in. "Only he's got it better than her. And he'll let us know when's the best time to take Zion on."
She subsided, looking unhappy. "I still don't like it."
"He actually lives longer this way," I pointed out. "Originally, he would have fallen afoul of some villains, and been shot in the head … hmm … late June."
She stared at me. "With his power … how?"
"Very tricky villains," I amended.
Alexandria dusted her hands off. "Well, that seems to be that for this meeting. Unless you had more information for us, Mr Allen?"
"Actually, I had a question," Hannah stated, raising her hand slightly.
I nodded to her. "Sure."
"Don't take this the wrong way," she ventured, "but … what are you?"
I blinked. "I'm sorry. I don't quite get your meaning."
She was looking somewhat embarrassed, but she forged on. "You're not a cape. What you know, what you've hinted at knowing, you're not from around here. So … how do you know what you know? Where are you from? What are you?"
I couldn't help but smile; it spread across my face. I looked at her, and then at the face of each of the others. Each and every one of them, quite powerful. Even Emily Piggot, with the resources of the PRT to call on.
I had often wondered what I would say, in the unlikely event that I was asked this question. And now it had been asked.
"Well, then," I began, and cleared my throat. "Well then. If I told you the true facts, unadulterated, about my origins, you would either disbelieve utterly, be driven mad, or reach a new level of understanding of the universe. But I don't want to inflict that on you, so I'll give you the kids' version."
I paused, composing myself. I wanted to laugh; what I had to say next was absolutely true and utterly misleading.
"I'm from beyond your time and space," I told them. "I'm older than your universe. There are those like myself that like to look into it, observe the interesting goings-on, and occasionally insert puppet bodies to manipulate events to our liking."
Hannah frowned. "So … you're not Abbadon, then," she concluded, sounding faintly disappointed.
I shook my head. "Oh, no. As far as I'm concerned, the entities and you all share the same space-time. I'm from outside all of that. As I was saying, we like inserting puppet bodies. People with backgrounds, who fit into the world. This body you're looking at? Prior to a week ago, Michael Allen didn't exist in this space-time continuum. Then I created him, put him in the world, and the connections formed. Family, history, the lot. Everything that made him a real person. And now he's existed for forty years."
Alexandria scowled. "So we're talking to a puppet, then."
I shook my head, carefully. "No. Puppets are normally unaware of their outside origins. Mike would have just done his thing, not being aware of the bigger picture. But something happened. And I ended up as Michael Allen, not just making him dance to my tune."
Colin was frowning. I looked at him. "Got a question?"
"Yes. Why did you make yourself … so fat? So unfit? So … "
"Unheroic?" I filled in. "Because I wanted to. I chose to." I looked around the table. "If I'd wanted to, I could have given the puppet – and ultimately, myself – a set of powers that would make Zion turn green with envy. I could have, before I even inserted the puppet, erased Zion from existence. If I felt like it. But I didn't. To me, this was … a hobby. A pastime. And if you make it too easy, it gets boring."
The silence was almost solid, it was so complete. Director Piggot broke it. "So … do you have those powers now? To reshape reality?"
I frowned. "I don't think so. I made the puppet to be totally mundane, after all." I shrugged. "Hell, he won't even trigger for powers."
"What happens if you … if the puppet … dies?" asked Hannah quietly.
"Now that, I honestly don't know," I confessed. "It might be that I just snap back to being me. Or I might really die. Or … maybe I can't die, not here. Or it might cause such a disruption that the universe ends. Not sure. Don't know if I want to find out."
She looked concerned. "So does that mean you're stuck here?"
I shrugged. "Once this little crisis is over, I might just wake up as me, one day. I'm not going to worry about it; I've got my hands full, saving the world."
The meeting broke up, shortly after. Piggot, Colin, Hannah and I watched as Contessa led the other two through the Door into Cauldron's headquarters. The portal closed behind them, and we turned to one another.
Director Piggot surprised me; she put out her hand. After a startled hesitation, I shook it.
"Uh … what was that for?" I asked her.
"For coming through with your promise. For telling me the truth. For letting me in on this," she told me.
"Meanwhile," I retorted in mildly accusing tones, "you've been bugging me since what, Sunday night?"
To her credit, she looked mildly abashed. "We had to know. You weren't telling."
I gave her a flat stare. "Please tell me you erased Monday night's tape."
She nodded at once. "There was nothing there we could use."
"Good to hear," I replied, so blandly that Hannah had to stop herself from giggling. "So, are you going to discontinue listening in on me? Or do I have to take up the bagpipes?"
"We'll take them down," Colin promised.
"Good," I agreed. "However, could I get a panic button? Just in case? My next visitor might not be as polite as Kaiser was."
Director Piggot nodded. "We can do that. Anything else?"
I couldn't think of anything. "Not at the moment, thanks."
"We'll be in touch if we need any more insight on how to save the world." To her credit, she managed to pull off the line without cracking a smile.
I nodded. "You know where to find me."
After they left, I prepared for bed. I really wanted to sit down and chat with Sveta, but I was thoroughly wrecked. It had been a long, long day.
I took off the dressing so that I could shower; the scar was distinct, but looked half-healed already. Riley, you little champ. It wasn't twinging as much as it had, earlier.
This wasn't to say that it wasn't twinging. But it didn't keep me awake for more than thirty seconds.
End of Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty: The Big Reveal
Emily Piggot stood next to the large perspex window and watched the waldos at work. She also kept an eye on the PRT techs in the room, checking the wreckage of the Dragon unit, to ensure that nothing noxious was leaking out of it. So far, no alarms were sounding, which was a good thing.
The Heberts stood beside her, father and daughter. Both were tall; Taylor, skinny as she was, overtopped Emily by an inch or so. They watched the operation with a fair degree of concern. Beyond them, Panacea stood next to Taylor; the two girls had unconsciously clasped hands.
The Dallon girl was describing to Taylor what the waldos were doing; Emily belatedly recalled that Panacea had gotten enough training for an honorary medical degree, over and above her healing powers.
"So that was the bomb?" asked Danny; they had all jumped when the Dragon unit had grabbed something small, taken two steps and exploded.
"It seems so," Piggot told him.
They watched the waldos closing up the incision in Michael Allen's neck. The mechanical arms were swift and efficient, and soon, all that was visible was a thin red line.
The Director turned to Amy. "Panacea, would you consider that Michael Allen is out of danger?"
Amy nodded, without taking her eyes from the scene beyond the window. "Yes. I'd have to check him personally to be absolutely sure, but … "
"Good." Piggot lifted a comm unit to her mouth. "Shut down the waldos."
One of the techs stepped over to the waldo control box. Even as two of the arms slid IV needles into the back of Allen's hand, he pressed a switch. The waldo arms went limp, retracting automatically to their rest position over the box.
"Wait, what?" asked Danny. "What did you do that for?" The two girls were looking around in concern as well.
Piggot couldn't believe she had to actually explain this. "Bonesaw is a supervillain with a long history of mutilating people and rebuilding them to the point where they are no longer human. Security is out of danger. I don't know what he did to convince her to operate on him, but there is no sense in giving her time to decide not to help him any more. Ordinary medical staff can cover this from here on."
Danny grimaced. "I guess … but it seems a little cold, a little mistrusting, to me. After all, she just saved his life."
"Dragon saved his life, at the expense of her own remote unit," the Director reminded him.
Taylor turned to Amy. "There was more to it than that, wasn't there?"
The biokinetic's face was troubled. "There was, but … I didn't know that he had Bonesaw doing the operation. I don't know that I would have been happy with it. She didn't do anything wrong, and some of the things she did during the operation were sheer brilliance, but still … he picked Bonesaw over me … "
"Hey." Taylor put an arm around her shoulders. "Cheer up. You're there as the backstop, remember? If it went wrong, he wanted you to put him back together, not her."
Amy nodded. "I guess." But her voice was still doubtful.
Piggot's comm chimed. She answered it. "Yes?"
"Ma'am, I have Bonesaw wanting to know what happened to the waldo link, and is the patient all right."
She smiled grimly. "Tell her that he's fine, and that she's off the case. Piggot, out."
"Ma'am." The comm went quiet.
The Director turned to the Heberts and their guest. "If you want to wait for him to wake up, be my guest. But it may be a while. Myself, I have work to do." Turning, she walked off toward the elevators.
Michael Allen was out of danger. But it still left the question of what to do about him.
She'd have to face that, sooner or later.
It could wait.
But not too long.
=//=//=
I gradually swam back to consciousness.
I'd been under anaesthesia before, but it was a long time ago. I had no baseline with which to compare this awakening.
It wasn't overly pleasant, but nor was it agonising. There was a steady pain at the side of my neck, which my befuddled brain soon deciphered. Oh yeah. Surgery.
My eyes opened slowly, with a little difficulty, and I swallowed. Or tried to. Oh yeah. Cotton mouth. That's one of the not-fun bits about being involuntarily asleep.
"He's awake," I heard someone say. My brain slotted pieces together – adolescent, teenage, female – and came up with a name. Amy. A blurry figure moved into my line of sight.
"Shut your eyes," she murmured; obediently, I did so. Something cool and damp ran across my eyes, and when I re-opened them, they weren't nearly as sticky, or blurry.
"Mouth," she ordered next; I opened my mouth. A straw was inserted; I sucked on it, and got cool water. It soaked into my parched tissues, so I sucked some more, and let it trickle down my throat. Heaven.
"Don't drink too much," she cautioned me, removing the straw and putting her hand on my forehead. "How do you feel?"
I blinked up at her. She was still wearing the same clothes I had last seen her in, and she didn't look overly tired, so … that meant … dammit, brain was still half out of it.
"You didn't heal me, did you?" I asked, and could have immediately bitten my tongue.
Her expression turned a little hurt. "No," she told me. "You said not to." Though I could have, easily, she didn't say out loud.
I looked around. The décor gave it away; I was still in the PRT base, probably in the infirmary proper.
"Help me sit up?" I asked. "Please?"
With the assistance of a sickbay attendant, she helped me to a sitting position. My brain cleared a little more, and I squinted at my bare wrist, then at where my watch sat, on the bedside table. "Dammit," I muttered. When I've just woken up, I usually need my reading glasses to make sense of where the hands are. "What time is it?"
"Half past nine at night," she informed me tartly. "You really should stay in bed. You were just operated on; you're still weak."
I nodded. "I probably should, yeah. But I got places to be." I paused. "Still Friday, yes?"
She nodded. "It is. Riley – Bonesaw – finished operating on you an hour ago. Dragon is inbound with another remote suit, to reclaim the surgical waldos."
I blinked. "Okay. Um … what happened to the first unit?"
She grimaced. "The bomb went unstable just as they were removing it. Dragon shielded you from the blast, but the suit was destroyed."
I felt a chill. "Wow. Okay. Remind me to thank her."
Her tone was somewhere near Arctic. "I will."
I sighed. "Amy."
She looked at me. "Yes?" The tone of her voice had not altered.
"I'm sorry."
A blink. "What?"
"I said, I'm sorry. For hurting your feelings. You're still upset about me refusing your healing, aren't you?"
She compressed her lips, turned her head away. "It doesn't matter."
This was, of course, girl code for 'it matters a lot'.
I spoke clearly and sincerely. "Amy. Really. I'm sorry. I know exactly what your powers can do. I know you could have healed me, once the bomb was out, so cleanly that I would never have known the difference. I know this, and under ordinary circumstances, I would not have hesitated to allow you to do this."
She glanced around at me briefly. "Ordinary circumstances?"
I shrugged. "Ones in which you were not undergoing therapy. Right now, your emotions are in flux. Letting yourself worry about who to heal and who not to heal, that's a whole level of complication that your head does not need. You need to be able to concentrate entirely upon sorting out the issues that have been building up for the last ten years, and what's happening around you right now, without adding more things to worry about."
Slowly, she turned to face me. I waited. Her expression was vulnerable. "Do you really mean that?"
I nodded, carefully. "Yes. Totally. I appreciate the concern, I really do. And if it came down to you specifically being the only person able to save my life, if there was no other way, then hell yes, absolutely, I would ask. But it wasn't like that. And right now, your mental health is more important than my physical health."
She blinked. "You're serious."
I nodded, and regretted it; my neck hurt. "Totally. One of the things I am dedicated to is ensuring your well-being, even at the expense of my own."
She sat, apparently without noticing, in the chair that was placed beside the bed. "I … I don't know what to say about that."
"Take it at face value," I suggested. "It's true, after all." I turned my head, wincing at the pain in the side of my neck, saw the IV lines leading into my wrist. "Wow, they found a vein. Normally it takes them three tries and a search party."
"Bonesaw did it," Amy explained, her expression becoming more animated. "Before they shut off the connection."
I blinked. "Shut it off? Why?"
She shrugged. "The operation was over. She had done something to fix the damage done to your tissues -"
I held up a finger. "Damage?"
"They froze the bomb with liquid nitrogen before they pulled it."
I made a mental note to request the footage of this incident. It would make an awesome talking point at parties. "Okay, froze the bomb, pulled it, Dragon shielded me, it went boom. So then Riley operated on me … and they shut her out of the loop?"
Amy frowned. "It was Director Piggot's decision. You were out of danger. She didn't want Bonesaw using the waldos to do something she wasn't supposed to."
I tried to shake my head, gave it up as a bad idea. It hurt worse than nodding. "Okay, can we call her Riley, please?" I asked.
Amy frowned. "What's the difference?"
"Much more than the difference between Amy Dallon – or Amelia Claire Lavere – and Panacea," I explained. "Bonesaw is the villain who murdered her way across America at the side of Jack Slash. Riley is the little girl who was broken psychologically six years ago, who staged a comeback just in time to save my life. They are not the same person. Bonesaw is the persona she adopted out of self-preservation. Riley is the real deal. Calling her one name or the other reinforces that persona. Okay?"
"Uh, okay, sure," she agreed. "Once, uh, Riley was done, the Director switched her out of the loop. We moved you to the sickbay, and I've been keeping an eye on you ever since."
"Taylor and Danny?" I asked.
"Oh, they're just outside. I'll tell them you're awake."
"I'll tell them myself," I corrected her. "Help me get up."
She shook her head disapprovingly. "If you hurt yourself, I'm going to make you ask pretty-please for help before I heal you." I was almost sure she was joking.
Almost.
=//=//=
Riley sat in her cell, sourly eyeing the unresponsive waldo controls. "Bitch," she muttered. She meant Piggot, of course. "I operated in good faith, and what do I get? Distrust and fucking ingratitude."
She had finished closing up the wound in Mike's neck and inserted the drip needles with ease. But just as she had begun checking his vital signs, the goggles went dark and the controls went inactive. At first she had thought that there was a malfunction somewhere, and she had called to the guards over the cell intercom to let the people upstairs know about it. But they had blandly informed her that her services were no longer required, by order of Director Piggot.
Morosely, she stared at the floor of the cell. She had been riding the high of a risky but successful operation, and then it had all been taken away from her. Bitterness burned through her. Served her right for trusting them to play straight. Just a little concession for what she had done, was all she asked. She hadn't even gotten the pat on the back that had been promised her by Mike.
Last time I do anything for anyone ...
=//=//=
"Should you really be up?" asked Danny doubtfully.
"Probably not," I agreed cheerfully, "but hey, I've made a practice this last week of doing things I really shouldn't, so why break the habit now?"
Doing up my belt, I sat down on the chair and reached for my boots. As I bent over, my head swam. "Wooo," I murmured dizzily.
Danny supported me by the shoulder. "You should really be back in bed."
"I'll be good," I insisted. "I'm feeling stronger already. I'd have trouble fighting off a determined kitten right now, but that's still better than I was doing five minutes ago."
On the second try, I got my boots, and put them on. Carefully I stood up, trying to work past the feeling of light-headedness. "Bloody hell," I muttered. "How much blood did I lose?"
Amy pulled the curtain aside. "Enough to put an ordinary man on his ass," she told me disapprovingly. "But you've got so much body mass -"
I grinned. "You can say 'fat', you know," I told her.
She wrinkled her nose. "If you say so. In any case, you're big enough that you'll be weak for a while but not incapacitated. I would strongly suggest rehydration and a good meal. Two good meals."
I tilted my head, carefully. "Wouldn't say no to that." Holding up my wrist, where I was still tethered to the IV stand, I indicated the needles. "Can we take these out yet?"
"That depends," she commented. "That one is putting saline into you, to combat the loss of blood. The other one's a painkiller, for your neck."
Involuntarily, I touched the bandage on the side of my neck. Every time I moved my head in any way, my neck hurt. And that was with painkillers. "Maybe we should leave them in for the time being."
Amy smiled for the first time. "Good idea."
"What's a good idea?" The curtain was pulled all the way aside, and Director Piggot stepped through. She stared at me. "Mr Allen. You're not supposed to be up."
I shrugged, carefully. "People keep telling me that. But I have places to be and people to talk to."
She looked at me suspiciously. "Such as?"
I told her.
She shook her head. "Bad idea."
=//=//=
The cell door opened. She didn't bother looking around. It was probably just another guard, checking on her …
"Riley."
Her head whipped around and she stared at the heavy-set man, leaning on an IV stand. Beside him stood Panacea, in civilian clothes, as well as two people she didn't know – a teenage girl and and older man – and Director Piggot herself.
"What the hell?" she blurted. "You aren't supposed to be up, you stupid idiot. I just pulled a bomb out of your goddamn neck."
"Yeah, so I heard," he agreed. "I came down to say thanks. I really appreciate it. You went above and beyond."
She shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable at the praise, knowing what the woman in black had told her about the man before her. "Yeah, well, Bakuda's a bitch." Bitterness prompted her to go on. "And your fucking Director's not much better."
"Right on the first case, but on the second, let's just go with 'cautious' for the time being," Mike allowed, glancing back to the fuming face of Director Piggot.
"I told you this was a bad idea -" snapped Piggot.
" - you did, yes," agreed Mike. "But it's something I have to do." He looked at Riley. "I have to make this right."
"Make what right?" asked Panacea.
"When the Director had them pull the plug, she did to Riley what you thought I did to you," he explained, a little obliquely. It seemed to make sense to Panacea, though; she looked at Riley with a different expression.
Riley looked through the perspex at them. "So what are you gonna do?" she asked. "Say you're sorry and walk away?"
Mike appeared to consider that, then he turned to the Director. "Can you get me in there?" he asked.
Piggot shook her head vehemently. "Hell no!" she exclaimed. "Let you in there with that mass murderer? Do you have any idea exactly how dangerous she is?"
Mike nodded. "Actually, yes I do. Probably more than you do. But let's look at it this way. She just saved my life. Why would she turn around and kill me now?"
The Director was adamant. "She doesn't need a reason. She could just decide to do it, out of the blue. And even if I sent guards in there with you, that still doesn't guarantee you'd be protected."
"Director." Mike's voice was flat. "Remember, outside the school, when I said I knew I wouldn't be killed when I went in there? I knew it then and I know it now. Riley won't hurt me."
"You came out of there with a bomb in your neck," she retorted. "You could come out of that cell with three different pathogens in your blood."
"True." Mike looked at Panacea. "You figure you can counter anything she might put in me?"
Panacea snorted. "In my sleep." She glanced toward Riley. "You think she will?"
Mike shook his head slightly. "Nope." He also glanced toward Riley. "I come in there, you gonna do anything nasty to me?"
Riley shook her head. "But why are you coming in here?"
"I told you. I have to make things right."
=//=//=
Director Piggot shook her head. "I'm telling you, this is a bad idea."
I grimaced. "I don't want to go against you, I really don't. But … tell you what. I've been considering this for a while. I'm going to be talking to some people tonight about saving the world. You let me go in that cell, I'll invite you along. You've pretty well earned it anyway."
She stared at me. "You're serious."
I nodded very cautiously. "Yes. I know you really want to learn some more about what I know; well, here's your chance."
Her reply was immediate. "Will I find out how you know it?"
I rubbed my beard, thinking. "Not the whole story, but … some of it, sure."
She looked at me and then at the cell. "And you're absolutely certain that you will leave that cell unscathed."
"As certain as I can be of anything in this world," I assured her.
A grimace pulled at the corner of her mouth. "I hate being pushed into a corner," she growled.
I spread my hands, in lieu of shrugging. "I could just walk away," I offered. "I don't want to, but I could."
"No." She shook her head. "No, damn you." Turning to the guard, she told him, "Let him in the cell."
=//=//=
I stood alone in the small area before the perspex sheet. Behind me, the heavy door was securely closed. The perspex sheet split down the middle, moved aside. Behind it, the bars opened just as easily. I stepped through. The perspex sheet, the bars, closed behind me. I was locked in.
Riley and I faced each other, just a couple of yards apart.
"Okay," she ventured quietly. "What now? What can you say that you couldn't say out there?"
I moved over to the bench at the side of the cell, sat down on it, careful not to tangle the IV lines. "For a start, sorry for the way you've been treated." I patted the bench beside me. "Sit down, kiddo. Let's talk."
Cautiously, she sat. "Talk? What about?"
I shrugged, one-shouldered. "Anything you want to talk about. I'd like to say thank you, one more time." I raised an eyebrow. "And I'm curious about what she said."
"She?" asked Riley innocently.
I grinned. "Yeah. Her." We both knew exactly who I was talking about.
=//=//=
'Who the hell is he talking about?"
The guard took one look at Piggot's angry face. "Uh, no idea, ma'am."
"Someone's been in there. Someone's been in communication with Bonesaw. Find out who. I want to know yesterday!"
"On it, ma'am!" The guard began checking back through the computer logs.
=//=//=
"Oh, uh, she told me about what you've been doing. What you've been trying to do. How you're helping people and saving the world." She paused, as if trying to work this next bit out. "And how you're doing it without any powers." Looking up at me, she added, "Is that true? No powers?"
"Not a one," I assured her. "What you see is what you get."
She tilted her head at me. "You know, I could give you some improvements. If this is not unusual for you, then maybe you could do with some bone strengthening, maybe replace some of that extra weight with muscle. If you're going to keep doing this sort of thing, I mean."
"Hm." I thought about it for a moment. "Transhumanism for the win, huh?"
"Sure," Riley told me. "It doesn't have to be nasty shit like I put in me. Purely defensive stuff. Make it harder for people to hurt you."
"Tempting," I commented. "Very tempting. And down the track, I may just take you up on it. But right now, I don't know if I could talk the Director into it."
She wrinkled her nose. "She hates me. Hates all capes."
"Yeah well, she had a bad experience, once upon a time." I heaved myself to my feet. "Well, thanks for the talk. And thanks for, you know, the life-saving surgery."
She shrugged it off. "It wasn't a problem. Dragon's waldos were world-class. They did all the work; I just did the driving."
I raised an eyebrow. "Not what I was told. Anyway, thanks. Hug before I go?"
She stared at me, wide-eyed. "You'd trust me that far?"
I nodded. "You realise I'm going to be disinfected to a fare-thee-well as soon as I leave here. But yes, I personally do trust you that far."
=//=//=
"Holy shit," murmured Taylor to Amy. "I just figured it out."
"Figured what out?" asked Amy, staring intently at the screen.
"He's doing the same thing he's done with me and you."
Amy glanced at her quickly, then back at the screen. "What do you mean?"
"He's helping her. Saving her. Giving her a second chance."
Amy glanced at Taylor again, then stared back at the screen once more. Her jaw slowly dropped.
"Holy shit. He is too."
=//=//=
Riley let me hug her; she was slender and petite, but I thought I felt things that were not bones under her skin. After a few moments, I felt her arms creep around me. She leaned into me and let me hold her close.
"I haven't been hugged in so long," she murmured into my chest.
"Hey," I told her. "It's all good."
We moved apart. She sniffled slightly. Her eyes dared me to make something of it. I said nothing.
"So," she observed at last. "What happens now?"
"Well, I go out and get disinfected, and then go on about my business," I told her. "You get moved to a slightly nicer cell, if Director Piggot's got anything like a heart, and maybe get given reading material. I'll come visit when I can." I paused. "Also, quick question. Would you like to be in on saving the world?"
She stared at me. "I … what?"
"Saving the world," I repeated. "It's a work in progress at the moment, but I'd like to have as many good people on side early on as I can. Would you like to be in on it?"
I had obviously just taken her utterly by surprise. She could not seem to formulate an adequate response. "I … I don't know."
"Think about it," I suggested. "I'll be back sometime." Turning, I rapped on the perspex sheet. It opened, and I left the cell.
=//=//=
Emily Piggot glowered at Michael Allen as he pulled his T-shirt on again. "I should arrest you right now," she growled.
"I'm sure you've got your reasons," he replied agreeably.
"You made me look bad in front of my men, and in front of the Heberts," she snapped. "Plus, someone got in to talk to Bonesaw, and you didn't tell me about it!"
He sighed. "Riley."
"What?"
His voice was patient. "Her name is Riley."
Hers was not. "Is there a difference?"
He raised both his eyebrows. "Yes." He didn't elaborate farther.
She scowled. "Well, be that as it may. Someone got in. You knew about it. You didn't warn me."
He nodded, carefully. "That 'someone' is the person who convinced Riley to operate."
Her voice was hard and flat. "How did she get in and out without anyone knowing? Who is she? Where is she now?"
"Director." He waited till he had her attention. "I will tell you this, and only this. It's the same person who took Coil from the van, last night. I will not tell you who she is, or where. Because knowing who she is would do you no good at all, and potentially a great deal of harm, and I can't tell you where she is. Because I do not know."
She shook her head. "I should arrest you. I really should."
"It's your option," he told her. "But I do have to do this thing tonight. And don't forget, you're invited."
"Is this about Cauldron?" she asked, greatly daring.
To her immense satisfaction, she saw that she had jolted him. "You know the name." It wasn't a question.
"I do. And I know other things. So don't play the all-knowing Thinker with me. I want answers."
He gave her a careful appraisal. "You'll get them. Soon. In the meantime, do not say that name too loudly, nor any of the other ones that you may have heard. They will draw very unfriendly attention."
His tone was absolutely matter-of-fact. He wasn't threatening her, she realised. The words were phrased as a friendly warning; she chose to treat them as such.
"So when and where is this meeting?"
He thought for a moment. "My place. More or less as soon as I get home."
"You're very sure of that."
A one-shouldered shrug. "There's a precog involved. When I get there is when they'll start arriving."
She gave him a calculating look. "So who else is invited?"
"Who else have you told about Cauldron?"
"Maybe one or two people," she hedged.
He gave her a direct look. "Well, bring one or two people. So long as you believe they can keep their mouths shut."
"And if they can't?" she asked warily.
"They will," he assured her. "Or they won't get to attend the meeting."
"And who are the other people attending the meeting?" She knew, or thought she knew, but she wanted to see if he would let anything slip.
He grinned, as if hugely amused by a joke. "Oh, you'll find out."
Which was, to her mind, as good as a signed affidavit.
=//=//=
I had thought long and hard about bringing Taylor in on this. She would, if my personal theories had any bearing on reality, be incredibly useful even if she wasn't needed to become Khepri. But if I had her come along, then that would leave Amy wondering why she wasn't in on whatever I had Taylor doing. The last thing I needed was to have Amy wonder once more about whether I trusted her.
I did, of course. I would have had no qualms about bringing her into the inner circle of what I was privately calling the Saving the World Committee. But that in itself would dump another load of stress on her mind, right at the time when I was doing my best to ensure that she was free of stress.
So. No Amy. Which meant no Taylor.
I'd fill them in both later, of course. Just not right at the moment.
=//=//=
Director Piggot and I exited the decontamination station; I still smelled of whatever they had used to take the top layer of my skin clean off. Amy had also checked me out, of course, and had found nothing. But the PRT had their regulations, and so I had to be manually disinfected. The dressing had been removed and destroyed, and a new one put in its place. Somewhere along the line, I had lost the IV stand, but then, I was learning to live without it.
Taylor and Danny moved forward to greet me; I went to fist-bump Taylor, then staggered back a step as she grabbed me in a fierce hug.
"Don't you ever do something like that again!" she demanded.
"Like what?" I asked. "Get a bomb put in my neck, capture a supervillain, get the bomb taken out by another supervillain, or visit said supervillain in her cell?"
"Any of it! All of it!" she snapped, letting go and standing back so that I could get the full wattage of her angry glare. "You should leave the heroics to the people with powers!"
I shrugged carefully. "It seemed to be the thing to do at the time?"
She rolled her eyes. "Dad, tell him!"
Danny stepped forward and clasped my hand. "I'm glad you're alive. So is Taylor. She just has trouble expressing things like that when she's upset."
I shook his hand. "So am I. Trust me on this."
He chuckled and slapped me on the shoulder. I still wasn't feeling too great, and my knees nearly buckled. "You'll do, Mike. You'll do."
Looking past him, I saw Amy standing there, slightly withdrawn. I moved over to her. "Hey, kiddo. What's up?"
"Bonesaw killed people," she stated. "Lots of people."
I nodded. "That's true."
"And you're trying to help her, to give her a second chance."
I gave her another nod, this one more respectful. "Right again. Nicely picked."
"It was Taylor who realised it," she admitted. "What I want to know is … you helped Taylor, even though she's only just starting. You helped me, even though nothing really bad's happened to me, yet. And you're helping her. Riley. Is there some point at which you don't help people?"
I stopped and considered that one. "If I know they can be helped," I decided, "I help them. If I think they can be helped, I'll help 'em if I get the chance. If I don't think they can be helped … " I gestured, a throwaway motion. "Jack Slash would never have accepted a genuine offer of help. Eidolon killed him on sight because I said so."
I paused; everyone, from Director Piggot on down, was staring at me.
"Eidolon … killed the Nine … on your say-so?" choked out Danny.
I spread my hands. "What? I needed them gone, and he offered. Otherwise, Jack Slash would have triggered the apocalypse in two years' time."
Danny was shaking his head. "You know, every now and again, I get to thinking you're just a regular guy, caught up in strange happenings. And then you go and say something like that."
I grinned at him. "I am a regular guy."
He snorted. "As if. Listen, it might not be a school night, but I've got to get the kids home before it gets too late. We'll see you later."
"Count on it," I agreed. I bumped fists with Taylor and then Amy, and shook hands with Danny one more time. Director Piggot and I walked them to the elevator, and watched as the multi-leaved doors closed behind them.
I turned to her. "Can I get a lift home?"
She smiled. "I'm sure we can accommodate you."
I snapped my fingers. "But before we do … I need to make a phone call."
=//=//=
Gladys Knott sat at her personal computer, grading papers. Every time she stopped, the memories of the last time she had seen Michael Allen rose before her. Sitting on the steps, with that horrible bloodstain on the side of his neck, PRT troops forbidding anyone to come close.
She didn't know whether he was alive or dead; they had taken him away in one of their trucks. He had not looked at all well.
Tears threatened to roll down her cheeks. She blew her nose, typed a few caustic comments, and awarded a C- grade to the paper she was working on. Then she pulled up the next one.
The phone rang, a welcome distraction. She picked it up.
"Hello, Gladys Knott speaking."
"Gladys, hi, it's me."
For the longest moment, she had no idea who was speaking. And then the world spun around her. She felt as though she was falling, even though she was still firmly seated in the chair.
" … Michael?"
"That's me, good looking," he replied cheerfully. "How you doing? Hope you weren't too upset this afternoon."
"Upset? You listen to me, Michael Allen. It's not your job to confront supervillains -"
"Gladys."
" - and to just throw yourself willy-nilly into danger like that - "
"Gladys."
" - it's totally irresponsible, and you could have gotten yourself badly hurt or killed -"
"Gladys."
She paused. "What?"
"I'm fine," he told her. "A little bit shaken up, but I'm good. They've been asking me questions at the PRT building, but I'm going home right now. I'd ask you over, but there's a few things I need to sort out."
"Does this have anything to do with what we talked about last night?"
He paused. "Well, yes," he admitted.
"Will you be in danger?"
"I don't think so. There's no reason for it."
She sighed. "Very well. Go home. Be safe."
"Thanks. I'll see you later."
"Yes. And thank you for the call, Michael. I feel much better now."
"Sorry I didn't call earlier. I was kind of busy."
She smiled. "That's all right. I will see you later."
"Saturday."
"Saturday."
She hung up, smiling, and gave the next paper a glowing A+.
=//=//=
Director Piggot's two invitees were, predictably, Armsmaster and Miss Militia. As they were going undercover, Armsmaster was without his trademark armour, although he wore a pair of glasses with an elaborate earpiece, and carried a suspiciously long, cylindrical case. Miss Militia, of course, was never unarmed.
Armsmaster – he had curtly told me to call him Colin – did the driving. He was efficient and skilled behind the wheel, handling the vehicle like an extension of his body. I would have been vastly unsurprised to find that he had done defensive driving courses.
Director Piggot sat in the front seat, while I shared the back with Hannah. This suited me; of the three, I got along best with her.
We chatted amiably and aimlessly as we drove, although I had no doubt that Colin's earpiece and glasses were giving him a blow-by-blow account of what lies and truths we were telling.
"So I've got to ask, is the Fugly Bob's Challenger really that big?" I asked when we were almost there. "I've heard about it, but hearing and seeing are two different things."
Hannah nodded. "Oh, yes. I've never tried one myself, but I've eaten at Fugly Bobs. It's just … enormous."
"That thing would clog your arteries before you finished it," Colin put in from the front seat.
"Oh god, I have no intention of even trying to eat one," I assured them. "I was just curious, is all."
Hannah grinned. "The man who tried one when I was there? He finished about three-quarters of his, then simply gave up. And he was bigger than you."
"Wow. Just wow."
"I hate to break this up," Colin commented, "but is this the right street?"
I glanced out the window. "Yeah, anywhere around here."
Colin pulled over, parking inconspicuously in a side street. We got out and locked the car, and I led the way toward my apartment complex.
Everything looked perfectly normal as I opened my front door. Which was why I was caught rather by surprise when the lights came on, and I found myself looking at a man in a business suit, sitting on my sofa. Flanking him were a man and a woman, also immaculately dressed.
=//=//=
Director Piggot stared at the three strangers. "You're not -" She caught herself, making me wonder momentarily what she had been about to say. She turned to me. "Are these the people you were going to have the meeting with?"
I shook my head, wincing at the pain from the incautious movement. "No. Most definitely not." Taking a step forward, I was about to speak when the man on the sofa rose to his feet.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am -"
"Kaiser."
The voice was Armsmaster's; it was echoed by a slight thump as he shook the cylindrical case off of his halberd, and the click-click-click as it unfolded and extended to its full length.
At the same time, Miss Militia suddenly held a large and dangerous-looking machine-gun. It was trained full on the man Colin had identified as Kaiser. I figured the other two must be Night and Fog; that was how he had gotten in.
I had to hand it to Kaiser; even faced with two deadly weapons – three; I realised that Director Piggot had drawn a pistol from a previously unsuspected shoulder holster and also had it trained on the crime boss – he kept his cool.
Even as the other two members of his group took half a step forward, he gestured them back.
"Peace, peace," he chuckled, his voice well modulated to embody friendliness and a lack of ill intent. "I am only here to speak with the man called Security. Michael Allen."
I found my voice with an effort. "Breaking and entering, huh? Ever heard of a handy device called a telephone? Saves on ugly little scenes like this."
He nodded, conceding the point. "It does, yes. But nor can you take the measure of a man over the telephone, Mr Allen. You cannot look him in the eye, gauge his worth."
His every word was reasonable, understandable, rational. The bastard had charisma to spare; even now, he had the gathering half under control, and he'd only spoken a couple dozen words.
I took a step forward, mindful to not block Miss Militia's line of fire. "Okay, let's get this absolutely clear, Anders. I don't like you. I don't like the cause you profess to believe in. I will never work for you." Folding my arms, I went on. "Now, were there any other questions?"
He tilted his head slightly, as if acknowledging a palpable hit. "Just a few. Why did you warn my wife of the impending event, and why did you not warn me?"
"I'll answer those in reverse order," I told him. "I just said, I don't like you. In fact, I despise the whole white-supremacist movement, and I don't know who's worse; the morons who actually believe that a lack of melanin is the true measure of a man, or the hypocrites who encourage that belief in others, just so they can capitalise on the morons. So I don't give a flying fuck if the entire Empire Eighty-Eight goes gurgling down the plughole. I really don't."
His face had darkened slightly, but he kept his outward cool. "But you did not unmask us yourself?"
I wanted to laugh in his face, but I restrained myself. "Fuck no. I could have, but that breaks the unwritten rules. I even tried to stop it from happening. Not from any concern for you personally, but for Kayden's sake."
"What is my wife to you?" he asked quietly.
"Nothing," I told him honestly. "We've never met. But I know a great deal about her. I know that what racist beliefs she once had, she got from you, but she doesn't live by them any more. I also know that she did love you once upon a time, and she had a crush on you before that, when you played basketball in high school. But you broke that love, destroyed it, when you played on it for your own ends. She doesn't love you; all she wants to do is make a good life for Aster. And I'd rather she had that chance. So I warned her, on the off-chance I would not be able to stop the infodump from going out. And as it happened ..." I spread my hands. "I was right to do so."
He frowned. "So you did warn her for the sake of the children."
"Exactly and precisely. Personally, I don't care what happens to you once people find out who you really are, but pulling that shit on kids is low. Also, if Kayden hadn't been warned, they would have taken Aster, and that would have meant a lot of bloodshed. I'd rather avoid that up front."
He paused, changing tack. "I understand that it was Coil who released the information. If you can tell me where to find him ..." The tone of his voice left little to the imagination.
Carefully, I shook my head. "Nope."
A frown. "Mr Allen, if it's a matter of money … "
I shook my head again. "I said no. But I will assure you of this. Right now, he's alive, and he's in a very bad place. One he's not getting out of."
His expression was thoughtful. "Well, all the same I think -"
"Mr Anders," I interrupted, "think about this. Leviathan was due to hit Brockton Bay in one month. During the course of the subsequent battle, the monster would have killed you, Menja and Krieg, and trapped Alabaster in a time bubble. I've taken steps that may just have averted the whole thing; as such, in a very real way, you owe me your life."
His head snapped up and he stared at me. "You can't be serious -" he began.
"I don't care whether you think I am or not, Mr Anders," I interrupted. "I would like you to leave."
"I had not finished speaking with you, Mr Allen -"
"No, but I've finished speaking with you. Take Geoff and Dorothy and leave my home, and never return. You will not, under any circumstances, be welcome here. Ever."
He tried to stare me down. I was scared, but I was also pissed. It was due to this man's actions that I had spent a really unpleasant afternoon with a bomb in my neck. "Go. Away."
His lips tightened. "Very well. We're going. But you really do need to think about talking to me."
"Thought about it. Decided against it. Go. Now."
We stood aside as Kaiser and his minions filed out the door; I closed it and locked it.
Everyone relaxed slightly; Armsmaster folded down his halberd once more.
"Tell me," asked Director Piggot in a slightly strained tone of voice. "Do you speak to all capes you encounter in your home in that tone of voice?"
I glanced at her. "Usually?" I asked. "Yeah."
She shook her head. "I wonder that you're still alive."
My grin held little humour. "I lead a charmed life."
Colin glanced around at me; my flippant remark must have registered as 'true' to him, much to his surprise. He was about to speak when something else caught his attention. Caught everyone's attention.
Entirely without fuss, a Door was opening in the living room wall.
=//=//=
"Why did you let him speak to you like that?" asked Geoff as they exited the apartment complex. "Even if he's done you a good turn, that was blatant disrespect."
"You do not pay much attention to the subtleties, do you?" asked Max. "I studied his posture. He was not a man who was terrified for his life, or even bluffing. He believed what he was saying, even to the part of Leviathan hitting Brockton Bay in four weeks."
"So what?" asked Dorothy.
"So he knows more than the best precogs have been able to foresee, and he casually told us that he changed matters. Altered things so that I will no longer die at the hands of Leviathan."
Geoff shrugged. "He could have been lying."
"Possibly. Although I do not believe it. I know how to get people to do what I want, and part of that involves knowing if they are trying to deceive me." He paused. "Also, if you had bothered to watch the news this afternoon, you would have found out that Bakuda attacked the school that he works at. She took a girl hostage, and he had to go in alone. He captured her, and Oni Lee hasn't been seen since."
Geoff and Dorothy looked at each other, then at Max. "Which means …?" asked Geoff.
"Which means," snapped Kaiser, "that until we know more about our Mr Allen, and why he had Director Piggot and two members of the Protectorate visiting, we don't go near him. Is that understood?"
Night and Fog nodded simultaneously.
"Good," he growled. "Let's go."
=//=//=
The weapons came out again, almost before I could blink. When Contessa emerged from the portal, she ignored them and stepped aside.
"Hey," I protested. "Friendly."
Armsmaster put up his halberd; Miss Militia turned her machine-gun into something small and innocuous. Director Piggot was still holstering her pistol when the other two entered the room.
=//=//=
Eidolon and Alexandria had obviously not been expecting guests; Contessa, equally obviously, knew all about it. Because Contessa. Right.
Alexandria stopped dead; Eidolon, behind her, almost bumped into her. Behind him, the portal winked out.
Alexandria spoke first; her tones were freezing, and boded ill for somebody.
"What," she hissed, "is going on here?"
"Contessa invited guests," I told her. "So I did too."
"Director Piggot? Armsmaster? Miss Militia?"
Eidolon shook his head. "Unacceptable!"
I moved around the table, fast. Eidolon didn't see me coming until I had him shoved against the wall. We were of a height, but I was heavier. "What's unacceptable is that you refused to take therapy until I told Alexandria there exactly what was at stake. What the fuck were you thinking?"
There was frozen silence for a second. Alexandria's cool voice broke it. "Mr Allen, please let him go. He's admitted to his mistake and he's sorry."
It was about then that I realised that I had my hands bunched in the folds of his cloak and was half-lifting him from the floor; I let go and stepped back. "Sorry," I apologised. "I've had a rough afternoon."
"That's quite all right," Eidolon replied graciously, as if I had not just assaulted him. "We heard about it ourselves. Capturing Bakuda, that's quite a feat."
"Yeah, well," I grunted, feeling slightly foolish now. "Shall we get started?"
"I still have not heard why you saw fit to invite people to our meeting," insisted Alexandria. "The more people who know about it -"
"They already know," put in Contessa. She had seated herself, and was examining a cookie closely.
We all looked at her.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" asked Alexandria.
Contessa took a bite from the cookie. "They already know," she repeated. "Armsmaster bugged this place last week. They've listened to the recording of your last meeting here. So Mr Allen's decision to bring them along is actually a good thing."
I opened my mouth and closed it, then turned to Director Piggot. She avoided my gaze; Colin met it directly, challengingly.
"But -" began Eidolon, then stopped.
Alexandria stared at Contessa. "When we came through, I asked you if there was anything we needed to worry about. And you replied, 'nothing whatsoever'. You lied to me."
"I did not," Contessa retorted without heat. "The presence of Director Piggot, Armsmaster and Miss Militia is a good thing. The recording that makes their presence inevitable is thus also a good thing. Nothing to worry about, in other words."
"Why is it a good thing?" asked Eidolon stubbornly.
I took that question. "Because this 'saving the world' thing needs to stop being a Cauldron only thing. Seriously. How much headway have you guys made since you killed Eden? Exactly fuck and all. I've stopped three serious threats in one week, and that's only if you count the Endbringers as a single threat."
"I stopped the Nine -" he began.
"Based on information I gave you. And only after I said to go ahead with it," I interrupted him. "So yeah, I'll claim at least an assist on that one. So anyway. To save the world, we're gonna need more than the Breakfast Club here."
Silence greeted my comment. Contessa let out a slight snort of amusement, which she muffled when I glanced at her.
" … Breakfast Club?" enquired Colin carefully.
I waved it away. "Movie reference. Anyway. People we're gonna need on side. Every single person who can shape matter or form illusions. Every Brute who can land a hit and take one too. Healers. Movers. Blasters. Thinkers; specifically, Accord and Tattletale. Any other precogs we can get on board. Doormaker and the Clairvoyant. Leet. String Theory; or at least, access to her lab. Oh, and Dragon is an absolute necessity. In her full capacity. Also, Weaver, as a backup."
I looked over at Contessa. "You're gonna be losing Eden. Sorry."
"Wait," put in Colin. "Did you say 'Leet'? That loser?"
I raised an eyebrow. "That 'loser' can build anything, once," I reminded him. "Anything."
He stopped, looking thoughtful. I nodded. "Yeah. Okay. We can add names to the list as we get to them. Now for the main course. What you've all been waiting for." I grinned, or at least, showed my teeth. "Welcome to Saving the World, one-oh-one."
=//=//=
"First off," I began, "I've got to explain to you a little bit about the bastard we're looking to kill. Some of you may know this already. Some may not."
I glanced over at where Director Piggot had taken a seat, alongside Colin and Hannah. "Just in case you were wondering, this is Scion we're talking about."
"Golden boy," Hannah replied, in tones of revelation. "That's who you were talking about."
"Got it in one," I agreed.
"But he's a hero!" Colin blurted.
I shook my head. "Nope. Just bored. Doing what a derelict hobo in London tells him to do."
Stunned silence. Contessa munched another cookie.
"So, Scion," I went on. "Real name Zion. At least, that's what he calls himself. He's not human. Never was. His race is … well, the best description I can come up with is 'giant multidimensional space whale'."
More silence, though Alexandria and Eidolon were nodding to themselves. Hannah was looking very thoughtful indeed, and I figured I knew why.
"But what does he want with Earth?" she asked, stealing a cookie for herself.
I nodded carefully. "Okay, short form? His race seeks energy. Long term, they're seeking a way to reverse entropy, to stave off the heat death of the universe. Long ago, they evolved a way to generate and store super-powers into what they call 'shards', which they can swap between each other. They travel, mainly in pairs, around the universe. They find a planet with sentient life, and they seed it with shards. These shards hide in pocket universes and attach to people; when those people undergo a trigger event, the attachment goes live, and the person has access to the power embodied in that shard." I paused. "You would call them 'agents'."
"You say that like it's a bad thing." Colin objected. "And how do you know that they call them 'shards', anyway?"
I grinned. "Questions from the peanut gallery will be answered later. So, why am I saying it like it's a bad thing? Well, that's a question I will answer now. See, they're looking to upgrade their shards, teach them new tricks and gimmicks. So they become beings like those on the world, and subtly foster conflict, so that people have to use their powers, and more people have trigger events. About three hundred years later, or so many generations, once enough shards have been improved, they harvest the lot, destroy the world for its energy, and go on to the next Petri dish, I mean, inhabited world."
Director Piggot broke the silence this time. "You're sure about this."
I nodded carefully. "Yes, ma'am. One hundred percent."
"So where do the Endbringers come into it?"
No-one was looking at Eidolon; he was looking at the table. I grinned again. "Well, see, we're gonna have to backtrack a bit here. Zion and his partner Eden – he's the Warrior, she's the Thinker – were approaching Earth when Eden had a bit of a close encounter with another entity. We call him Abbadon."
Alexandria looked up at this. "Who's 'we'?" she asked curiously.
"Me and some others," I answered obliquely. "So Eden and Abbadon have their swap meet – that's how they swap shards, basically bash against each other in passing – and then go on their way. So Eden's just picked up this great new shard that lets her model future events really, really closely. A path to victory, you might say. So she's modelling out the entire three hundred year span of their time on Earth, with everything plotted neatly, but she's picked up a bit more weight than she had intended, and she spent a little too long playing with this shard, and she kind of failed to carry out step one."
"Which was?" asked Colin, as it was apparent that I wanted someone to ask that question.
I grinned without humour. "Land safely."
Director Piggot, Colin and Hannah each winced. Contessa suddenly looked enlightened. Yup, that's how you got your shard.
"Which, by the way," I added as an aside, "is why we call her Eden. Because now she's nothing but a big garden of flesh." I paused, waiting for comments, then went on. "Now, there was a shard she held which was designed to not be released into the wild, as it were. Its purpose was to create up to twenty super-weapons; sentient, hugely powerful, massively dangerous. These would sit on the borders between nations and foster even more conflict. But it sort of ended up in someone's hands without the proper control mechanism attached. So they're being driven by subconscious impulse right now."
Hannah spoke up. "But you say that's dealt with."
I nodded, and looked directly at the cowled hero. "Yeah. Eidolon's taking therapy. I hope."
The cowled hero winced. "I swear to you, I am." He put his masked face in his hands. "Now will you please get off the topic?"
"Sure, sure," I told him. "I'll drop it. Now. Eden's dead – due mainly to Contessa's efforts – and Zion's alone. But he has no purpose. He can barely interact with people. So he starts doing what he's told by a homeless bum called Kevin Norton. Unfortunately, he's going to get sick and tired of that in about fourteen to sixteen years, and start doing bad things. Or, if Jack Slash was still around to be captured in two years, Jack starts monologuing, Zion hears him, and takes it to heart." I paused for effect. "Two billion people died, over about half a dozen Earths, before he was stopped. They called it Golden Morning."
"But he was stopped," Alexandria observed.
"Yes."
"Who did it?"
I shook my head slightly. "Wrong question."
Colin frowned. "What's the right question?"
Alexandria beat me to the punch. "Ah. How was it done?"
I showed my teeth. "With great fuckin' difficulty."
=//=//=
"You have to understand," I went on, waving a forkful of my microwaved meal, "that Zion is not what he appears to be. He's multidimensional. There's a whole planetoid worth of him out there. And he's got access to all the powers. All of them. So it's not a case of a one-hit kill. Also, he's not the sharpest spoon in the drawer, but he does understand conflict. Fighting. Fall into a pattern, and he will beat it. With me so far?" I took a bite, chewed and swallowed.
Nods around the table indicated assent.
"Therefore, you need a triple pronged attack. First; you need to hit him hard. Really hard. As hard as you can. As often as you can.. Movers will keep pulling his opponents away just before he can retaliate and take them off the board. Injured ones go to healers, to be shoved back into play as soon as they're good to go. This is going to piss him off. The second prong is emotional."
"Emotional?" asked Eidolon. "He doesn't really have emotions, does he?"
"Sure he does," I told him. "He's sad. He radiates it. He's mourning his lost partner." I pointed at Contessa. "I know you've been making Case 53s to use as camouflage. You need to let him find Eden. And you need to destroy her. Violently. A nuke should be about right. But first, if you can animate that humanoid section, that would be perfect. She's awake, she moves, she opens her eyes … and then she blows up."
Hannah's eyes were wide. "That's cruel," she murmured.
I nodded. "We need to hit him in the feels, as often as possible, as hard as possible. Blasters, close ranged attacks, dropping a mountain on him, time-freeze attacks, then just as he's getting a feel for the pattern, have a bunch of shapers show him her face in the clouds, in the water, in the rocks. He freezes for a second, then someone else hits him in the back of the neck at Mach fifteen." I held up a finger. "But here's what also needs to be planned. The images can start fairly crude, but toward the end, they have to be absolutely lifelike. They have to make him think that it really could be her."
Colin frowned. "How do we do that?"
I shrugged slightly. "How about we recruit a 'loser' who can build anything once? Because you can be sure he's never built a lifelike simulacrum of Zion's girlfriend."
Nods around the table. Piggot raised a finger. "All right, you've told us about the brute force and the emotional attacks. What's the third prong?"
I grinned. "We kick him up the arse."
Alexandria frowned. "Explain."
"He's multi-dimensional," I pointed out. "Which means that the majority of his body is in another dimension, safe from attack. Except that there's a cape in New York who can bypass that."
Everyone looked puzzled, then Alexandria's face cleared. "Flechette," she stated.
I nodded to her. "Exactly and precisely. She can put an effect on a weapon so that it hits all dimensions simultaneously. Ignores little things like armour and force fields. Even Zion's scared of her effect. Imagine if, say, Leet built a device which simulated her ability, and Dragon retro-engineered it?"
"Dragon -" began Director Piggot, then stopped.
" - is a Tinker," I confirmed. "Her trick is to copy any other Tinker's work."
Colin blinked. "That could be … interesting."
"Yup. Now. Zion would be watching for something like that, so you don't hit him with it until he's in a raging frenzy. Being hit from all sides, seeing the face of his dead partner everywhere, no-one's standing still long enough to be hit. You've got to overwhelm him. And then you hit him with the Flechette effect so that you've got access through the visible body to the real body, and then hit the real body with the big guns."
I leaned back and laced my fingers across my stomach. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you kill a god."
=//=//=
"There are still issues that need to be worked out," Director Piggot stated carefully. "People going into combat against Scion? They'd be terrified."
"Hmm," I commented. "You have a point. Now, if only you had someone who could do something like sing to stop them from being scared."
Colin looked at me almost accusingly. "Canary?"
I grinned. "Canary. Fit everyone with Endbringer arm bracers and she can sing them all to calm alertness."
Hannah frowned. "How are we going to coordinate attacks? The timing, the number of elements that will need to be calculated … "
I looked at Colin. "How's Dragon's multi-tasking going on these days?"
He blinked. "Oh. Right."
"Okay, all of this is well and good," Alexandria stated, "but what if he has some strategy, some power that brings us to a screeching halt before we even get out of the gate? How do we know when to attack so that it will work?"
I glanced at Contessa. "So, how's Coil doing these days?"
Piggot sat up. "You're the one who took Coil?"
The black-clad woman nodded. "I am. He's doing well. I should have him properly conditioned in the next few days. He'll be able to help us begin to work out detailed simulations of how to attack Zion with greatest effect in just a few weeks."
The Director looked dangerous. "Am I to understand that he's -"
" - in exactly the same situation as he would have put Dinah Alcott in, if I hadn't acted," I cut in. "Only he's got it better than her. And he'll let us know when's the best time to take Zion on."
She subsided, looking unhappy. "I still don't like it."
"He actually lives longer this way," I pointed out. "Originally, he would have fallen afoul of some villains, and been shot in the head … hmm … late June."
She stared at me. "With his power … how?"
"Very tricky villains," I amended.
Alexandria dusted her hands off. "Well, that seems to be that for this meeting. Unless you had more information for us, Mr Allen?"
"Actually, I had a question," Hannah stated, raising her hand slightly.
I nodded to her. "Sure."
"Don't take this the wrong way," she ventured, "but … what are you?"
I blinked. "I'm sorry. I don't quite get your meaning."
She was looking somewhat embarrassed, but she forged on. "You're not a cape. What you know, what you've hinted at knowing, you're not from around here. So … how do you know what you know? Where are you from? What are you?"
=//=//=
I couldn't help but smile; it spread across my face. I looked at her, and then at the face of each of the others. Each and every one of them, quite powerful. Even Emily Piggot, with the resources of the PRT to call on.
I had often wondered what I would say, in the unlikely event that I was asked this question. And now it had been asked.
"Well, then," I began, and cleared my throat. "Well then. If I told you the true facts, unadulterated, about my origins, you would either disbelieve utterly, be driven mad, or reach a new level of understanding of the universe. But I don't want to inflict that on you, so I'll give you the kids' version."
I paused, composing myself. I wanted to laugh; what I had to say next was absolutely true and utterly misleading.
"I'm from beyond your time and space," I told them. "I'm older than your universe. There are those like myself that like to look into it, observe the interesting goings-on, and occasionally insert puppet bodies to manipulate events to our liking."
Hannah frowned. "So … you're not Abbadon, then," she concluded, sounding faintly disappointed.
I shook my head. "Oh, no. As far as I'm concerned, the entities and you all share the same space-time. I'm from outside all of that. As I was saying, we like inserting puppet bodies. People with backgrounds, who fit into the world. This body you're looking at? Prior to a week ago, Michael Allen didn't exist in this space-time continuum. Then I created him, put him in the world, and the connections formed. Family, history, the lot. Everything that made him a real person. And now he's existed for forty years."
Alexandria scowled. "So we're talking to a puppet, then."
I shook my head, carefully. "No. Puppets are normally unaware of their outside origins. Mike would have just done his thing, not being aware of the bigger picture. But something happened. And I ended up as Michael Allen, not just making him dance to my tune."
Colin was frowning. I looked at him. "Got a question?"
"Yes. Why did you make yourself … so fat? So unfit? So … "
"Unheroic?" I filled in. "Because I wanted to. I chose to." I looked around the table. "If I'd wanted to, I could have given the puppet – and ultimately, myself – a set of powers that would make Zion turn green with envy. I could have, before I even inserted the puppet, erased Zion from existence. If I felt like it. But I didn't. To me, this was … a hobby. A pastime. And if you make it too easy, it gets boring."
The silence was almost solid, it was so complete. Director Piggot broke it. "So … do you have those powers now? To reshape reality?"
I frowned. "I don't think so. I made the puppet to be totally mundane, after all." I shrugged. "Hell, he won't even trigger for powers."
"What happens if you … if the puppet … dies?" asked Hannah quietly.
"Now that, I honestly don't know," I confessed. "It might be that I just snap back to being me. Or I might really die. Or … maybe I can't die, not here. Or it might cause such a disruption that the universe ends. Not sure. Don't know if I want to find out."
She looked concerned. "So does that mean you're stuck here?"
I shrugged. "Once this little crisis is over, I might just wake up as me, one day. I'm not going to worry about it; I've got my hands full, saving the world."
=//=//=
The meeting broke up, shortly after. Piggot, Colin, Hannah and I watched as Contessa led the other two through the Door into Cauldron's headquarters. The portal closed behind them, and we turned to one another.
Director Piggot surprised me; she put out her hand. After a startled hesitation, I shook it.
"Uh … what was that for?" I asked her.
"For coming through with your promise. For telling me the truth. For letting me in on this," she told me.
"Meanwhile," I retorted in mildly accusing tones, "you've been bugging me since what, Sunday night?"
To her credit, she looked mildly abashed. "We had to know. You weren't telling."
I gave her a flat stare. "Please tell me you erased Monday night's tape."
She nodded at once. "There was nothing there we could use."
"Good to hear," I replied, so blandly that Hannah had to stop herself from giggling. "So, are you going to discontinue listening in on me? Or do I have to take up the bagpipes?"
"We'll take them down," Colin promised.
"Good," I agreed. "However, could I get a panic button? Just in case? My next visitor might not be as polite as Kaiser was."
Director Piggot nodded. "We can do that. Anything else?"
I couldn't think of anything. "Not at the moment, thanks."
"We'll be in touch if we need any more insight on how to save the world." To her credit, she managed to pull off the line without cracking a smile.
I nodded. "You know where to find me."
=//=//=
After they left, I prepared for bed. I really wanted to sit down and chat with Sveta, but I was thoroughly wrecked. It had been a long, long day.
I took off the dressing so that I could shower; the scar was distinct, but looked half-healed already. Riley, you little champ. It wasn't twinging as much as it had, earlier.
This wasn't to say that it wasn't twinging. But it didn't keep me awake for more than thirty seconds.
End of Chapter Thirty