Security! (a Worm SI fic)

[Ack]

I just stumbled across a page with mentions of Warner Brothers making a movie, possibly movie franchise, adaptation of Dragonriders of Pern. Verified real, but still early enough that it's not a sure thing to happen from what I've gathered.

God I hope they don't fuck it up like Eragon got fucked up.

Click to shrink...

I. WILL. WATCH. THAT.

 

[edale]

Newest bit of info I can find: http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/heat-vision/dragonriders-pern-movie-lands-a-750512

Granted, I never pay attention to Hollywood bullshit, so there's probably newer info out there, I just don't know how to find it.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0808236/

May be more info there, but need a pro account to see it.


*edit- Well shit, Anne McAffee died back in 2011... guess we'll never be seeing the future of her characters.

 

[Ack]

Security!

Chapter Forty-Four: Paying the Piper


Late on Tuesday Evening, April 26, 2011

Gladys Knott looked up from the TV at the knock on the door. I wasn't expecting anyone.

"Who is it?" she called, muting the TV and going to the door.

"It's me," she heard. "Mike."

Undoing the locks, she opened the door; it was indeed Michael standing there. "Hello," she greeted him uncertainly. "Is something the matter? We didn't have a date that I forgot, did we?"

Smiling, he shook his head. "No. Just thought I'd drop by and tell you about some stuff before you heard about it elsewhere."

"Michael?" She eyed him suspiciously. "What have you been doing?"

"Why does it have to be something that I've done?" he asked defensively.

"Well, is it?" she pressed.

He sighed. "Well, yeah, okay, fine, it is. Can I come in?"

"Please." She watched him enter, then closed the door behind him. In the stronger light, she saw things that she had missed before. "What happened to your face, Michael? And why is there a bandage on your arm?"

"Yeah, that's kind of the thing I came to talk to you about," he confessed. "I kind of went out with the Wards today as part of an operation to clean up the gangs. The ABB and Merchants."

She stopped, staring at him. "And you got hurt? What happened to your beard, your eyebrows? Your arm?"

"I'm not really hurt badly," he assured her, before she could become too concerned. "Some first-degree burns, some scorched hair. I have some shallow cuts on my arm, but that's about it."

"Michael," she asked slowly, "what did you do to get all that? Who did this to you?" She imagined that this must be what a cape wife felt like, her man coming home with bruises and cuts every night. Or worse, not coming home at all.

"Actually, I pretty well got through the gang cleanup without much of a problem." He sat down gingerly on the couch, wincing slightly.

She sat beside him, holding his hand in hers. "'Much' of a problem, Michael? There's something you're not telling me."

He shrugged. "Okay, yeah, I went into a warehouse and beat up some thugs, then took on their boss. It was something that needed doing. He was gonna dump some pretty nasty stuff in the city's water supply."

"You're being very vague, Michael," she warned him. "Who was their boss?"

He looked at her, as if assessing his chance of evading the question, then he sighed. "Trainwreck. Big guy, with mechanical arms and legs. A bit on the strong side."

"I've heard of him," Gladys told him coolly. She had done more than a little research on the PHO forums, after finding out just how closely Michael was working with the PRT. "And this is the man you took on. After beating up on his mooks."

He nodded. "The main thing was to keep out of the way of his fists. The guy hit like a steam train. So to speak."

"And you won?" Despite herself, despite the unhappiness she felt about him putting himself in harm's way, she felt a touch of surprise, of pride. Trainwreck, from what she had read of him, was no pushover.

"Well, let's say he was on the ground when Armsmaster got there," he told her. "I let him close the deal."

"Which doesn't explain as to how you got the burns on your arm and face," she pointed out. "Nor the cuts which you say are under that bandage."

He sighed. "Well, this afternoon, I was called to see Director Piggot …"

=//=//=​

Earlier

Emily Piggot didn't glance up from her paperwork as I entered her office. "Sit."

I sat.

She made a distracted sound, turned to her computer, clicked on something, and compared it with the sheet of paper. "Hm."

I didn't try to get her attention; no doubt this was a subtle power play, indicating that I was certainly not the most important thing on her mind. Even if I had been, which I doubted. So I sat, and watched her, and felt myself relax, the initial apprehension gradually bleeding away.

I was more aware of my body's internal workings now, or at least it felt that way. Between them, Amy and Riley had given me a certain amount of biofeedback capability, probably to better allow me to control my combat mods,so that I didn't accidentally take someone's head off if I was startled. I imagined that I could control my heart rate, speed it up and slow it down as necessary. Not that I was going to try it, but I thought that maybe I could. If I had to.

Perhaps this was the source of my increasing bursts of recklessness; had I subconsciously decided that I needed to be more proactive, and so my body had prepared itself to react in that way? If my brain and body were working more in conjunction, I would definitely have to learn how to control my reactions, before I got into too many dangerous situations. That way lay the Eidolon problem.

Dangerous situations. Hah.

I tried to hide a grin at that, and obviously failed. Without seeming to look my way, Piggot asked dryly, "Is there something funny that you'd like to share with me, Mr Allen?"

I cleared my throat. "Just a thought that occurred to me, Director," I replied. "Nothing relevant to the current situation."

"The current situation, yes." She did look up at me, then, and folded her hands across the papers on her desk. "What do you have to say for yourself regarding today's action?"

Oh, yeah. This is not gonna be fun. I damped down a fear reaction, and looked her in the eye. "I did what I believed to be correct at the time. I'm not going to pretend that my judgement was entirely sound at that moment – I was somewhat excited, and running on adrenaline – but I still believe that going in when I did was better than waiting for backup."

She frowned. I reminded myself that I was older than her, and that she was pulling a classic intimidation play on me. It didn't really help; she had been a career soldier, and then the PRT Director for one of the roughest cape cities in the United States for more than a decade. She had far more experience in staring down subordinates than I had in dealing with superiors.

"I will admit," she noted almost reluctantly, "that you did instruct the Wards with you to stay outside. On the one hand, you were without their backup when you might have needed it the most; on the other hand, they were out of harm's way."

"I wasn't going to risk them," I assured her. "They were my responsibility. With them in the building, I would have had to worry about them as well as myself."

"And so you took on forty armed men, as well as a dangerous parahuman, single-handedly," she pointed out. "It could so easily have gone the other way."

"But it didn't," I countered. I considered telling her about Contessa's true capabilities, but decided that she had enough on her plate, right at that moment. "I didn't know what they were doing in there, but I didn't want them to finish whatever it was. So I went in there to do my best to stop them."

She pursed her lips in a sour expression. "So you did not know what they were doing, but you went in anyway. They could have been assembling a bomb, for all you knew."

"Weaver had eyes on them. She would have told me if that was happening."

"Ah, yes, Weaver," observed Piggot. "I have read her report regarding your actions within the warehouse. Her claim is that she informed you about the hole they were making in the floor before you went in, that this may have influenced your decision."

I restrained my impulse to blink in surprise. Taylor's lying to try to keep me out of trouble. Oh god, if I say the wrong thing here, I land her in the shit.

"She may have," I allowed. "I can't really remember. I was kind of excited at the time."

"So you've already told me," she noted. "Do you recall her telling you about the hole at all?"

"Oh, yeah," I confirmed. "That was when I really knew it was a good idea to get in there and mess them around a bit."

"But you don't recall whether this happened before or after you entered the warehouse?" she pressed. "My understanding is that you've had Panacea improve your long-term memory retrieval capability."

Whoops. "Well, I definitely remember it happening," I pointed out. "Does it really matter whether it was before or after I went in?"

She nodded. "It's a matter of intent," she informed me. "It was a good thing that you did go in there, as far as we can tell. Left to their own devices, Trainwreck's forces would have set up ambush positions."

"Which Weaver would have pinpointed for us."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you arguing against yourself now?"

I grinned wryly. "We both know it's true."

A nod. "Definitely. In fact, given a little time, Weaver could have cleared out the warehouse without a single man needing to step inside. However."

My expression was one of polite attentiveness. "However … ?"

Piggot sighed. "But all indications were that he was going to dump the entire stockpile of drugs into the water supply. And there were some Tinker concoctions among them. The interactions between them may have been ... problematic."

"What, like a zombie plague?" I asked flippantly.

She scowled. "Don't be ridiculous."

"In any case, me going in was a good thing, right?"

Reluctantly, she nodded. "But as I said, it comes down to intent. If you knew about the hole beforehand, then you were acting to prevent a problematic scenario. If you didn't, then you were contravening orders."

"Which would have been unfortunate for me, had I been a member of the Protectorate," I noted. "I'm guessing disciplinary action, for sure."

"In such a case, disciplinary action would have definitely resulted," she agreed. "So which was it?"

"Fortunately, I'm just a contractor," I pointed out, deliberately not responding to the question. "So the most you can to do to me is terminate my contract."

She eyed me balefully. "Don't make me ask a second time, Mr Allen," she stated flatly.

"Oh, she definitely told me before I got inside," I assured her. "But I'm thinking that I should be putting in my notice, given that the gang war's pretty well done with anyway. So yeah, this is me quitting as a contractor."

Her expression sharpened to suspicion. "This is somewhat convenient. I'm getting the impression that you are doing this, just so that we don't press on the aspect of exactly when Weaver warned you."

"Or maybe I just don't need the hassle," I replied. "So anyway, I'm thinking that I'll keep my new career on the down-low for the moment. Of course, I'll be sticking to my real day job."

She blinked. "Security guard?"

I shook my head. "Saving the world."

She gave me a level stare. "You have an aggravating habit of playing that card to get exactly what you want, Mr Allen."

"Yeah, well," I replied flatly. "Just remember where that's going. I kind of think I've earned it."

She tilted her head slightly; not quite a nod, but not quite a negation either. "Perhaps, Mr Allen. But I've made a career of not letting capes push me around. So don't try it."

"Last thing on my mind," I assured her. "But I gotta ask. Do I still got prison visiting privileges?"

Her lips compressed. "I have been told, in the strongest of terms, that your visits to Riley are doing her a significant amount of good. I will be allowing them to continue."

"Thanks. But it wasn't only Riley I was thinking of."

Her head came up. "Who else?"

I told her. Her eyebrows rose considerably. "Is this wise?"

I shrugged. "Well, someone's got to do something."

=//=//=​

"Visitor!"

Lung looked up as the airlock door opened, and the fat man stepped through. No guards came with him; he advanced to the perspex and leaned against it.

"What do you want?" Lung's voice was hard.

"Here to see if you've made a decision," the man calling himself Security responded. "Yes or no? Because the clock just restarted, and the deadline's a lot closer than before. So you're going to have to make a choice. Now."

Lung sneered. "Come back and ask me tomorrow, and I might tell you then."

The fat man put his head to one side. "You know, I don't believe that I will." He raised a hand and snapped his fingers. Immediately, the barrier between them parted. Allen walked through, whereupon it closed once more.

Lung stared. "What is this? Do you think that venturing into the lion's den will impress me with your bravery?"

"Nope." The fat man shook his head. "I'm here to beat sense into you."

This was ludicrous, unbelievable. Lung began to chuckle, then laugh. His rich mirth filled the cell as he doubled over with hilarity. The man's temerity was astonishing. A mouse may well threaten to devour a cat!

And then something exploded on the side of his head; he found himself lying on the floor, a ringing in his ears. He shook his head, staring at the fat man, who had moved a step closer. The blow had taken him by surprise, but still, he should not have gone down so easily.

"What is this?" he demanded. "That was a cowardly attack."

"That was just to get your attention." Allen eyed him dismissively. "Unless you're chicken."

Anger began to rise within him. "You have made a mistake. I can tear you limb from limb before the soldiers out there can get in here."

Allen extended a hand, made a come-on gesture with it. "Don't see you doing it, dragon-boy."

Something was definitely amiss here. Lung wasn't fearful, but nor was he stupid. "If I attack you, they will foam me."

The fat man rolled his eyes. "Excuses, excuses." He raised his voice. "Guys. Let him try it."

There was a long pause, then the speaker crackled to life. "Let him try it, roger."

He turned back to Lung and spread his hands. "No more excuses. Your move."

Lung had had enough. Gathering his anger, he came up off the floor in a lunging rush, seeking to lay hands on the fat man, to break his bones before the inevitable foam covered them both. His target was big, slow, heavy. Easy pickings.

As he rammed face-first into the wall, Lung wasn't quite sure what had gone wrong. He had gotten within arms' reach of the fat man, and then his target hadn't been there any more. A grip of steel had overtaken him, and he had found himself heading for the wall. Slowly, feigning weakness, he climbed to his feet once more, anger growing ever stronger. Heat began to well off of his skin, making the air around him waver. He knew from this that Allen was serious; normally by now, temperature sensors in the cell would have had him coated in foam or inhaling argon.

"When you're ready?" Allen's voice was taunting, mocking.

More circumspect this time, Lung approached him, looking for weaknesses. What he saw caused him to revise his opinion of the man, dramatically. Allen didn't look fat and slow any more. He looked big and dangerous. His posture, his balance, what he had just done; it all screamed 'training'.

But still, he was just a human. And Lung could deal with a human. All he had to do was -

Before Lung could complete the thought, Allen stepped forward. Moving faster than a man of his bulk should be able to move, he slammed his shin into Lung's ribs. Several of them broke; the smashing power of the strike sent Lung staggering sideways, but he stayed up. He clamped his arm over that side, as he felt the ribs beginning to mend.

"You," he snarled, as flames flickered from his mouth. "How are you doing this?"

Allen rolled his eyes. "Are you going to talk, or to fight? Sheesh."

In he came again, driving blow after blow at Lung's face and torso. It was like being pummelled by a pile-driver, one that could choose its targets intelligently. Lung tried to defend, but the punches and kicks slipped through anyway. He tried to retaliate; as he opened his defence, a smashing blow broke his jaw. Consciousness slipped away.

=//=//=​

Lung came to, lying flat on his back. His ribs were almost healed, although his jaw hadn't knitted properly yet. Allen leaned against the wall, watching him.

"Wow, talk about a glass jaw," his tormentor jibed. "One hit, and you just folded like a cheap dishrag. That's a YouTube moment if I ever saw one."

Lung was on his feet in an instant. "You are not the fat man!" he bellowed. "Who are you?"

Allen grinned. "Let's just say … I had some work done. Call me … Security, two point oh."

The careless tone was the same. The attitude was the same. More importantly, the look in the eyes was the same.

Well, not exactly the same. Previously, the fat man had been urging an alliance, that Lung agree to join forces. Now? He sought battle. He wanted to fight Lung. Hand to hand, one on one.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I told you," Allen reiterated. "You were just gonna keep waffling, so I needed to get your attention. It's that or -"

Lung didn't wait for him to finish his explanation; he attacked, while his enemy was distracted. The anger he had regained bulked him out, increased his strength and durability. He would overbear his opponent -

A smashing blow to the groin doubled him over, trying not to retch in pain. He had been kicked in the testicles many times before; that was no real problem. The problem came in the fact that he had never been kicked so hard before. Straightening up despite the near-crippling pain, he managed not to stagger.

More anger flooded into his system, and he bulked out even faster, his healing power soothing the bruised and battered flesh. Flames began to flicker over his skin, while metal scales poked up through his epidermis. Vaguely, he heard the soldier calling over the speaker.

"Sir, pull back! We have to -"

"No!" Allen shouted. "I've got this!"

Moving in, he unloaded his piledriver blows on Lung once more; each one arrived with crushing force, driving Lung back on to his heels. With a hissing roar, Lung flexed his fingers, steel talons sliding into place. He swung at Allen -

Hands gripped his arm, swung him, and he felt the agonising pop of his shoulder dislocating, even as he slammed face-first into the wall. Again. It didn't matter; pain fed his anger now, and anger fed his growth. Soon, he would be beyond the ability of the man called Security to hurt, and -

An arm locked around his throat from behind. It clamped tight, ignoring the flames on his skin, crushing the metal scales protecting his throat. He felt his airway close off.

Frantically, he clawed at the arm, shredding the cloth, drawing red lines on the skin, but penetrating no further. It was like an iron bar across his neck, strangling him, taking away his air. Defeating him, yet again. But still, he was Lung, and so he fought, and struggled, until the blackness welled up, and he fell yet again.

=//=//=​

Lung's eyes opened; Allen squatted patiently nearby. He seemed to be examining the arm that Lung had tried to shred, but when Lung went to move, he turned to look.

"So, you ready to make a decision yet?" he asked.

There was no taunting this time. Just a simple question. And the implicit promise that Allen could, and would, continue the humiliating beating, if Lung kept wasting his time.

Lung didn't get up immediately; he studied Allen. "You have defeated me so readily, and you still want me to fight on your side?"

Allen shrugged. "I have an upper limit. You don't. Besides, I'll have another job. Big picture and all."

"But you will not be sitting back where it is safe." It wasn't a question.

Allen straightened his legs and stood. "Kenta." Lung blinked at the direct use of his name, but Allen was still talking. "In the war that is coming, there will be no place that is 'safe'. There will only be varying levels of danger. But yes, I will be out there, doing my bit. Whatever that bit turns out to be."

He extended his hand. Warily, Lung took it; with surprising ease, the man called Security heaved him to his feet. Faded blue eyes met intense brown. "So. What's your choice?"

Lung raised his chin. "I fight."

Allen nodded. "Good. Welcome aboard."

=//=//=​

Emily Piggot eyed me with disfavour as I exited the cell, looking somewhat more scorched than when I'd gone in. "That was illegal on so many levels. I don't even know why I let you go in there."

"Because if I hadn't," I pointed out, "he'd still be fart-arsing around, not saying yes, not saying no. I forced the issue. Now he's agreed to step up, we can focus on working out strategies that involve him."

"He's dangerous," she insisted. "You humiliated him. He's proud. He won't forget that."

"He's also agreed to fight Zion," I reminded her. "Yes, he's proud. He won't back down from something like that. Especially if you make it clear that he's not just disposable cannon-fodder."

She grimaced. "I'm used to putting them away, not letting them out again."

"Couple months time, there'll be more than just him to keep an eye on," I noted. "We've got to build an army, we've got to build it fast, and we've got to build it right."

"With the knowledge that the whole thing's just a distraction and a smokescreen."

"Doesn't make it any less imperative," I reminded her. "We've each got a part to play."

She eyed me closely. "So what's your part, Mr Allen?"

I gazed back at her. "I wish I knew, Director. I wish I knew."

=//=//=​

Gladys, Later

"Michael, you went into his cell?" Gladys heard her voice rise, and made herself take a deep breath. "That was terribly foolhardy. You could have gotten badly hurt."

"I could've, yes, but I didn't," he reminded her. "These combat mods that Riley gave me are amazing. Lung's nasty, but if you hit him hard enough, and keep him off balance, it's possible to keep ahead of him. And now he's agreed to cooperate and fight on our side."

"And at the same time, he cut your arm and gave you burns," she pointed out. "That can be dangerous in itself. You need to make sure those don't get infected."

He chuckled; she shot him a suspicious glance. "What?"

His expression was amused. "I, uh … you're not the first person to tell me that."

She eyed him askance. "So who else tried to knock common sense into you?"

He grinned. "Well, as it happens … "

=//=//=​

Earlier

When I got to Riley's cell, Theo was already there. This made a certain amount of sense; he lived on base, and he would already have gotten back and been debriefed. He had hit it off fairly well with Riley when I had introduced them, and so I was glad to see that he was visiting her. I was even more glad to see that he was being allowed to visit her.

As the perspex pulled aside, I heard his voice. " - so he turns around and says, "So, what kept you?"

Riley, holding her sides, looked about ready to fall off her chair from laughter. "He didn't!"

Theo nodded earnestly. "He did." Turning, he saw me entering the cell. "Oh, hi, Mike. Tell her, that's what you said, right?"

"To Armsmaster?" I nodded. "Yeah, that's what I said. Got in a bit of trouble for it, though."

Riley, still giggling, got up and hugged me; I returned it. "I'm glad to see you're all right, Mike."

"Yeah, Armsmaster and Director Piggot weren't overly pleased, but they had to agree, the job got done." I saw Theo staring. "What?"

"What happened to you?" asked the teenage boy. "You look like you've been in a fight. Another fight."

Riley pulled free and looked at me. "Shit, he's right. What happened to you? You've lost some of your beard, and your eyebrows are singed, your clothes look a bit burned, and your arm's all scraped up."

I shrugged. "Had a word with Lung."

"A word?" Riley was palpating my arm, observing the red cuts closely. "You've got burns here, as well as cuts down to the subdermal armour. This needs to be treated, in case it gets infected. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that we needed him on side, and he was just buggerising around, so I went into his cell and I called him on it. We went a few rounds, and after he came to, he agreed to pull his head out of his arse and actually step up." I shrugged. "It needed to be done, so I did it."

"See a doctor," Riley ordered me. "As soon as you leave here. Go to the sickbay and get them to check you over." She glared at me. "Yes, my modifications have made you stronger and tougher. But you're not Alexandria, and you're not impervious. You need to take care of yourself, Mike. Seriously. Christ, why do I even have to tell you this? Just because I raised your pain tolerance doesn't mean that you can ignore shit like that."

I nodded contritely. "Okay, yeah, got it. Still human. Sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Mike." She was still angry. "What's this on your chest? Open your shirt."

Reluctantly, I unbuttoned my shirt, and she was immediately on to the spot of torn skin in the centre of my chest. "I thought so. What happened here?"

I grimaced. "I, uh, bullet?"

She rolled her eyes. "And from the feel of it, that might just have cracked your sternum. Any pain when you inhale?"

I shook my head. "None. Not even after Trainwreck hit me, which is that bruise."

Theo whistled. 'That bruise' took up a good part of my left side. "How are you still walking?"

I shrugged. "Miracle of modern medicine?"

Reaching up, Riley took hold of my left earlobe, digging her nails in.

"Ow! Hey!" I tried to pull away, then desisted; it hurt a lot more than the cuts on my arm.

Pulling my head down to her level, she put her mouth next to my ear. "I'm going to say this just once, Mike." Her voice was steady and controlled. "As your attending physician, which you chose me to be. Are you listening?"

"Ow. Ow. Yes, I'm listening."

She pinched harder. "Take better care of yourself." Letting my ear go, she put her arms around my neck. "Ever since I've been here, you've been my best friend, even when I didn't know I needed a friend. You've never turned your back on me, never looked down on me, and apologised when you did the wrong thing." Tears were filling her eyes, and she briefly let go to angrily wipe them away. "I – I care for you. I don't want to lose you. So for fuck's sake, get yourself seen to. Please."

I put my arms around her, holding her close. "I will. I promise. Now can I do my shirt up?"

Pulling free, she grinned, even though there were still tears on her cheeks. "Yeah. I don't need to look at that any more."

"Good," I told her as I re-buttoned my shirt. "You realise, I'm gonna cop a hiding about this from at least two other people, maybe three or four. I'm not looking forward to that."

"Really?" she asked, tilting her head to one side. "Who?"

"Weaver, right?" asked Theo.

"She's one," I confirmed. "Also, Panacea. Weaver's dad will probably get in on the act. And yeah, there's someone I've been seeing. She's gonna go thermonuclear on me. She hates it when I get hurt, doing stupid stuff."

"Good," Riley informed me, with no discernible sympathy. "If that's what it takes to get some sense into your head, then I wish her the best of luck."

I grimaced, though I felt somewhat amused. "You two would probably get along really well."

"I want to meet her sometime," Riley declared. "She sounds nice."

"I might try to arrange it," I mused. "She knows about the heart attack, and how you saved me."

Riley nodded. "I'd like that. It's nice having friends who are just friends."

"And talking about," Theo put in, "how about we break open a board game and kick some ass."

"I'll kick your ass," Riley threatened, grinning again.

He grinned back. "Bring it."

As they continued to bicker good-naturedly, I leaned back on my seat and hid a grin of my own. Riley might think I was doing this all for her, but she would be wrong. I was also doing it for me.

It was nice to see my changes doing some good.

=//=//=​

Gladys, Later

"Wait, Riley wants to meet me?" Gladys was more than a little concerned. "Didn't you tell me that she used to be … " She trailed off, not wanting to say the actual name.

Michael nodded. "Yes. Used to be. Past tense. Not any more. Because she used to be under the direct influence of a psychopath called Jack Slash, who was extremely good at manipulating people. However, this is no longer the case. She has no father figure in her life, so I'm kind of standing in, I guess."

"But why does she want to meet me?" Gladys felt apprehensive. She knew that Michael had assured her that Riley – previously Bonesaw – was reformed now, had participated in two separate life-saving surgeries on his behalf. But she also knew what she had seen on TV regarding the Slaughterhouse Nine, and the horrific exploits of the girl called Bonesaw over the previous six years. What if she's fixated on him, and sees me as a rival for his attention?

"Because I'm trying to re-socialise her," he explained. "I'm introducing people to her who can spend time with her and basically let her be normal. We play board games. She's responding really well, so far."

"I see," she ventured. "So how did my name come up, anyway?"

"Oh , I didn't tell her your name," he assured her. "Just that you were one of the other four people who were likely to tear strips off of me for doing what I did. The others being Taylor, Amy, and Danny. I told her you were likely to go thermonuclear."

"And what did she say?"

He chuckled. "She said 'good'. Said that if that's what it took to knock some sense into my head, then she wished you the best of luck."

Gladys blinked. "Oh. Well … I'll think about it. As you might understand, I don't often get invitations to visit ex-supervillains in prison every day."

"Let me know if you decide to say yes," he requested. "It might take a little while to clear through the Director. But I'm sure if I make a strong enough case, she'll okay it."

"I'll let you know. It's a lot to think over."

He grinned suddenly, making him look ten years younger. "Take your time. She's not going anywhere."

"Well, I'm just glad that you're all right," she told him. "When I think of what could have happened to you … "

He leaned across and kissed her gently. She returned the kiss, her lips lingering on his. They held each other for a moment.

"I wish I could invite you to stay," she murmured. "But I can't. Early start tomorrow."

"Me too," he agreed. "On all counts. Sucks being responsible." Standing, he offered his hand to her; smiling, she accepted the help getting to her feet, although she did not need it.

"Good night, Michael." Her voice was soft as she embraced him. His arms went around her as well, holding her so close that she fancied that she could feel both heartbeats, as he had described them to her. If he asks to stay, I will not say no, early start or no early start. But he did not.

One more kiss, and then he separated from her, opened the door. One last glance back, and then he was gone, the door closing gently behind him. Mechanically, she locked it – in Brockton Bay, it paid to be careful – then pulled back the curtain from the window beside, looking out. She saw the internal light come on as he climbed into the pickup, then go out as he closed the door. Faintly heard the engine start, saw the lights come on. The vehicle moved off; she watched until it was out of sight.

Sitting back down on the sofa, she unmuted the TV and tried to watch, but found that her thoughts would not let her follow even the most banal of plots. So she switched it off, and sat for a while in silence, trying to marshal the thoughts swirling in her head.

Eventually, she gave it up and went to bed.

=//=//=​

Wednesday Morning, April 27, 2011

I pulled to a halt outside the Hebert house, set the park brake and killed the engine. Time to face the music once more. I didn't know where Dragon had gotten the information from, but she'd had a few choice words to say to me the previous night before we got into the game with Sveta. Which, I'd had to admit, had been a lot of fun, and had gone on longer than intended.

I sighed as I got out of the pickup. Downside of having friends. They'll get up you for doing stupid stuff. Oh well.

By habit, I locked the door, but as bugs were already starting to swarm – unobtrusively, but I was watching for the signs – I doubted very much that anyone was going to break into it in a hurry.

Not very much to my surprise, the front door opened as I strolled up the path; Amy stood there, looking slightly puzzled.

"Mr Allen – I mean, Mike?" she asked. "What's up? Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing that I know of," I assured her. "I just wanted to swing by, see how you guys were going. Maybe give you and Taylor a lift to school."

Her eyes brightened. "That would be great, sure," she agreed. "Come on in."

I mounted the stairs and stepped in through the front doors; Amy headed back to the living room. "Dad!" she called. A moment later, she realised her mistake, and turned bright pink. "I mean -"

"I know what you mean," Danny told her as he leaned through the door from the kitchen; the smile and pleased tone let us both know how he felt about the slip. "Oh, hi, Mike. What's up, Amy?"

"Oh, uh, Mike's offered to give me and Taylor a lift to school," she stammered, still pink with embarrassment.

He didn't hesitate. "Sure, sounds okay to me. What's the occasion, Mike?"

"Just wanted to drop by, touch base, see if there's anything the girls wanted to yell at me about," I replied cheerfully. "I'm guessing they've filled you in on what went down yesterday."

A nod. "They have indeed." He eyed me perceptively. "And I presume you've already been reamed over it?"

"In triplicate," I agreed. "Armsmaster had his go. Director Piggot had her go. Riley tore me a new one as well. The sickbay attendant waxed sarcastic about superheroes who never learned how to duck. Even Gladys had a few unkind words to say about my common sense, or lack thereof. So I figured I'd come over so you could get it out of your systems in one easy burst."

He chuckled. "Well, I doubt I could think of anything to say that they haven't already, so I'll just say it here and now; you're lucky it turned out okay."

"You're not wrong." I turned to Amy. "I can see you're dying to check me over, so go right ahead." Pushing up the sleeve over my uninjured arm, I held the forearm out to her.

She clasped it immediately, then glared at me. "Seriously, Mike? If you didn't have that armour, you would be badly injured, maybe dying. No bones broken, but there's a hairline fracture or two that could do with my attention."

"Thanks, I -" I began.

"But that's not everything," she murmured. "Cuts and burns. Where did you get those cuts and burns from?"

I hesitated, then explained my visit to Lung, glossing over details as much as I dared. It wasn't enough; her glare redoubled.

"You're an idiot," she declared. "If you'd miscalculated, he might have been too strong for you to choke down. The burns are healing well, as are the cuts, but those could both have been very much worse."

I noticed that she was no longer pink, no longer embarrassed. Her intensity drowned all that out.

"Well, thankfully, I won't be required for an encore," I assured her. "He agreed to work with the PRT in … an upcoming case." Hastily, at the last moment, I changed the last words of my statement.

The sound of the shower upstairs, of which I had been subliminally aware but not paid any attention to, shut off. A moment later, Taylor's voice drifted down the stairs. "Hi, Mike!"

"Hi, Taylor," I called back, then heard a door close; her bedroom door, no doubt.

"Still a stupid thing to do," Amy informed me flatly. Danny came up to her and gave her a hug, which she returned.

"You tell him, Amy." His voice was amused. "I've got to get to work, but yeah, I've got no problem with Mike giving you both a lift."

"Okay," she agreed readily. "We'll see you this afternoon." She paused. "I think Taylor's rostered on this afternoon, so we might be in a little later than normal."

"Whatever you've got to do," Danny replied agreeably. "I know that you two watch each others' backs, but you take care anyway, okay?"

"Well, crime's taken a downswing since the ABB and the Merchants were hammered so badly," I offered. "The Empire's been keeping its head down too. So, not too much happening right this second."

"But they've got to keep on top of it," Danny agreed. He let go of Amy and shook my hand. "Good to see you, Mike. Don't go doing anything more reckless than normal, okay?"

"God, don't encourage him," muttered Amy, rolling her eyes. Danny and I both grinned at her; he ruffled her hair affectionately.

"I'll see you later then. Take care."

Just as he was turning away, Taylor came clomping down the stairs, dressed and ready for school. "Hey, Mike. Just heading out, Dad?"

"That's right, kiddo," he agreed, giving her a quick hug as well. "Amy says you're likely to be in later than normal?"

"Yeah, roster," she noted. "Training, patrolling, stuff like that. The superhero life, am I right?"

"Which I have no doubt but that you're kicking ass," he told her solemnly. His eyes cut from her to Amy and back again. "I'm very proud of you. Both of you." He inclined his head to me. "See you later, Mike."

"Later, Danny." I watched him sling his jacket over his shoulder on the way out through the kitchen to the back door. It opened and closed; moments later, the car started, and he crunched his way down the driveway to the road.

Then Taylor turned to me, and her expression hardened. "If you weren't such a good friend, I wouldn't be nearly as pissed at you as I am right now," she stated flatly.

I tried to figure that out, then gave up. "Look," I told her, "I'm sorry that I did stupid things and nearly got hurt -"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't care about that. You're tough, you can take care of yourself. You've been doing that since I met you. What I care about is the fact that you weren't taking me seriously."

I blinked. "I do take you seriously."

"Really?" she asked, her voice rising. Amy stepped up alongside her, took her hand, squeezed. Taylor glanced sideways at her; some unvoiced communication passed between them, and she moderated her tone. "Really. What am I supposed to think when I give you my considered opinion on what's happening in that warehouse, that you should hold off until backup gets there. So what do you do? You ignore me and go in anyway. And then you fight all those mooks, and you get to Trainwreck. I tell you that you should wait for backup – again – and you ignore me again, just so you can go all testosterone on Trainwreck's metallic ass. I mean, seriously, were you trying to prove a point? Because there's not much point in me being command, comms and coordination when you won't listen to what I'm telling you!"

I blinked. "Shit. You're right."

Taylor had drawn another breath, ready to hammer me again, but then she paused. "I mean … what?"

"You're right," I stated. "I did screw up. You were the person in the know, you had eyes on, you even told me that backup was on the way. I was riding the adrenaline high, my judgement was all screwed up, but I should have listened to you anyway. I really should have. I'm sorry."

Taylor's jaw had dropped slightly by the time I finished talking. She stared at me. "Wait … you're apologising?"

I nodded. "Yes. I did the wrong thing, and I've been thoroughly apprised of this by basically everyone I've spoken to since yesterday afternoon. I had no idea that I'd be hurting your feelings by going ahead like I did, and I should have known." Reaching out, I took her hand in mine, and one of Amy's in the other. "I sincerely apologise for my screw-up, for hurting your feelings, and I won't do it again. Okay?"

"Wow," murmured Amy. "He's serious."

"Damn it," muttered Taylor. "You make it hard to stay mad at you."

"I'm sorry," I replied with a grin. "I'm supposed to want you to be mad at me? That sounds hazardous to life and limb."

Taylor shook her head, then she pulled her hand free of Amy's grip and mine, and hugged me. "Just when I think you're just another typical guy, you go and do something like apologise for a mistake."

I hugged her back. "Trust me, kid. Older you get, the more you become vividly aware of your own mistakes."

"And what about my apology?" asked Amy, eyebrows raised.

I grinned at her past Taylor's head. "I was just getting to that. Yes, I'm an idiot. I'll do my best not to do that again without a really good reason."

"I suppose that's the best I can get under the circumstances," she replied, but she looked pleased all the same.

Taylor let me go, and I faced Amy. "Trust me, I am absolutely and thoroughly grateful to you for everything you've done. I would never treat you like a kid or a disposable resource. If I ever start treating you with anything less than total respect, call me on it and I'll do my best to change my ways. Okay?"

Taylor stepped aside so that Amy could hug me; there was that nonverbal communication again. "Thanks," she told me, her voice muffled against my chest. "Thanks for that. Thanks for everything."

"Hey, it's okay," I told her. "Now, I believe you two were just having breakfast? Because I don't want to keep you away from it."

We all went through into the kitchen, and I sat while they had their bacon and eggs. I was offered some, and did not object; bacon, after all, is its own reward. Now that I had been chastised and forgiven, they filled me in on what else had gone down the previous day, and I gave them a blow-by-blow account of the fight with Lung.

=//=//=​

Being the shorter of the two, Amy sat in the middle of the bench seat as I drove them both to school.

"You're still an idiot," she told me firmly, "but that fight sounded awesome."

"It was, kinda," I admitted. "Being able to cut loose, to see what I could really do, was cool. But I'm learning to keep a closer eye on my reactions, and adjust them to suit the situation. It's just a matter of getting used to it, I guess."

She nodded. "You don't have powers in the same way that the rest of us do – you don't even have an active corona pollentia – but you're still a lot more capable than the average person, and you need to make sure you don't let that get out of control. As strong and tough as you are now, with the combat mods that Riley put into you, you could easily hurt someone by accident. Or even yourself."

"Yeah," I agreed. "If it ever does start to slip out of my control, I would be hugely grateful if you'd look at it for me."

"Well, sure," she told me at once. "Just to see what needs doing." She smiled up at me. "I've been talking with Mrs Yamada about what you asked me to do, and she's really helping me see it in the proper perspective. I'm still not totally comfortable with working with brains, but you know, there's good ways to do it, and bad ways to do it, and I'm starting to see the difference."

"Excellent," I replied. "That's really good to hear. Still running with Taylor, or have you given that away?"

"She's still running," Taylor assured me. "We're improving her wind and her pace. She still cheats by making the bacteria in her throat produce more oxygen, but what are you gonna do?" Her voice sounded affectionate.

"Well, hey, being able to run away is a perfectly viable survival skill," I pointed out. "I've been known to use it once or twice, as you well know."

"Oh god," Taylor recalled. "The time we went against Lung."

"Has she told you about that one?" I asked Amy. "Her first outing?"

Amy nodded. "Oh god, yes. It sounded like you were doing it by the skin of your teeth the whole way through. That was the night you met the Undersiders, right?"

"Yeah. That was interesting." Taylor glanced across at me. "You realise, that night hooked me on being a superhero. I could never give it up, not after that."

"I kinda know the feeling," I agreed. "After yesterday, I mean."

"Even though you were an idiot," Amy pointed out.

"And totally inconsiderate of my feelings," Taylor added.

I glanced at the girls; they were both grinning broadly. "And you're not gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"Nope," agreed Taylor.

"Not until you actually start pretending to show some common sense," Amy pointed out.

"Bullies," I groaned in a put-upon voice. "Bullies, the both of you."

They both giggled.

=//=//=​

I pulled up outside the gates of Arcadia, and put the pickup out of gear. "Here we go, and in plenty of time."

"Thanks, Mike," Taylor told me, opening the door and getting out; Amy echoed her a moment later, joining her on the sidewalk.

"Taylor, a word?" I requested, leaning across the seat.

Taylor looked back at me, nodded, then turned to Amy. "I'll catch up," she promised. Amy smiled and moved a few yards away, shouldering her pack.

"What's up?" asked Taylor, leaning back into the car.

"The Director told me how you said you told me about the hole before I went in," I explained to her. "I'm not altogether sure that she believed you."

"Oh," she replied, going a little pale.

I nodded. "'Oh' is correct. I appreciate the thought, but all it was ever really going to do was get you in trouble. I've got far and away enough goodwill saved up to get out of virtually any hassle." I gave her a serious look. "I don't need you pissing away your own reputation for honesty and reliability to help me out when I'm pretty good as is."

She looked down. "I just wanted to -"

Reaching up, I put my hand on her shoulder. "And I appreciate it, I really do. I know exactly why you did it, and I'm hugely flattered that you put your neck on the line for me. It shows what sort of person you really are, underneath." I grinned. "Just save it for someone who doesn't already have a guardian angel on speed dial, okay?"

Her expression was confused as she looked at me. "What, really?"

I chuckled. "Just about. Now, just so you know, I confirmed what you said, but I also resigned as a contractor so they didn't have a reason to push matters."

"Do you think they know?" She sounded worried.

"Emily Piggot is no fool," I assured her. "She's almost certainly sure of it. But because I made a point of denying it, and because I went to all that trouble to get you into the Wards, about the most that's going to happen is a quiet word in her office, along the lines of don't do it again, and nothing said about it after that."

"But you've resigned as a contractor?"

I nodded. "No biggie. They can hire me on again at any time. It was always just a legal thing."

Slowly, she nodded. "Oh … okay." A smile. "Thanks."

"Thanks for sticking your neck out for me." I smiled. "Even if it wasn't actually needed, it's still nice to know that you've got my back."

"Always." She reached out with her fist; I bumped it with mine. "See you later, Mike."

"See you later, Taylor. Have a good one."

Her grin was carefree. "These days? Always."

She closed the door; I leaned across to wind the window up and press the lock down. As I did so, Taylor rejoined Amy; side by side, they headed on in through the school gates. Turning, they waved once. I waved back, and then they were gone. I sat up straight, adjusted my seatbelt, then considered where I was going to go next.

=//=//=​

"So what was that all about?"

Taylor didn't even consider not telling her. She and Amy had been a little reticent around one another to begin with, but it had not taken long for them to find common ground. Quite apart from the synergy of their respective powers – which was a strong bonding point as it was – they gravitated to one another through a shared loneliness. Amy helped Taylor with any parahuman based homework in World Affairs, having been a parahuman herself for years. Taylor, in turn, tutored Amy in the use of computers. It was nice to have a best friend again.

She took a deep breath. "Mike knows I lied to keep him out of trouble."

Amy already knew about that, too, of course. "Oh, wow. So what's going to happen?"

"Hopefully, nothing. He backed me up. Says he talked to Director Piggot. She probably knows too, but she doesn't want to antagonise him."

Amy grinned. "More like, she doesn't want to antagonise you."

"Oh, come on," Taylor protested. "I'm not that scary."

"Really?" teased Amy. "Clockblocker still runs and hides every time he sees one of your swarms."

Taylor was laughing now. "He does not!"

"Hi, Amy," someone greeted them as they entered the school proper. "And … Taylor, wasn't it?"

Amy smiled. "Hi, Chris," she greeted the boy. "How have you been?"

"Pretty good, pretty good," Chris replied. "And how have you been, ladies?"

Taylor's eyes narrowed slightly as she spotted the amused twinkle in Amy's eye. There's something going on here, but I'm not sure what. Chris didn't share it, so it wasn't something they were conspiring over. I'm sure I'll find out eventually. "I'm just fine, Chris," she responded. "Thanks for asking."

He was a nice boy, and he seemed at least friendly toward her, which was a combination that she had found rarely enough in Winslow. Now, all she had to do was figure out if he was actually interested in her, and what to do about it if he was.

Amy's eyes met hers as the three of them headed down the corridor, and Taylor knew that the biokinetic had more or less figured out what she was thinking. Now, if only I could work out why Amy's so amused about the whole thing.

=//=//=​

I had the pickup back in gear, and I was heading toward the PRT building with the idea of dropping in to see Riley, or maybe Paige, when my phone rang. Pulling it out of my pocket, I pressed the button to answer, then hit speakerphone, dropping it on to the seat beside me. "Hello?"

"Mr Allen. This is Director Piggot."

I covered my surprise with false cheer. "Director. How may I help you, today?"

She sounded as though she was chewing nails. "I have a request for you."

"And what request is this?"

"You may recall your work on getting the Undersiders to join the Wards."

"I recall it, yes." That had taken quite a bit of effort. Oh god, please don't tell me they've screwed up again.

"Well, they have contacted my office and indicated that they are ready to come in and see about negotiating the terms of their recruitment."

No wonder Piggot sounded as though she wanted to punch something. Lisa had probably made the call, and she always had to push any buttons she found, just as hard as she could.

"Sounds good," I told her cautiously. "You get a bunch of villains off the street, and four more Wards under your watchful eye."

"Yes," she grated. "But they've requested that you be the one to accompany them into the building, and sit in on the negotiation. As a sign of good faith."

"Me? Wow. Okay. Where do I meet them?" Even as I spoke the words, I couldn't help grinning. Well played indeed, Lisa. There's no way they can disappear the Undersiders if I'm there.

"I'm texting you the address," she replied. "Kindly do your best to keep them in check. My patience is not unlimited."

"You got it," I assured her cheerfully.

This was going to be interesting.


End of Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

 

[Starfox5]

Good chapter. Loved how Security got reamed out by everyone after his stunts. That should make him be more likely to control such urges - though I think he's still in a "I am going to die soon anyway" mentality from the earlier revelations.

 

[Ack]

Oh yeah, he'll be more circumspect in future. But he really needed to let loose, just once. Well, okay, twice.

And yes, he knows he can't pull that shit on the Empire.

 

[alethiophile]

Oh ho. More Undersiders is always welcome.

I'm really liking Riley. Watching her reaming Mike out because she's worried about him... there's a change.

 

[Ack]

Just by the by, I'm working on the next chapter of this story, but I thought I'd make note that since I've discovered that the 't' in Piggot's name is silent, I'd go back to Chapter 4 and add a little extra, just to point this out.

Excerpted below:

"Seriously, guys, I'm harmless," I said. "I just need to speak to Director Piggot."

"You're not from around here, are you, sir?" asked the guard in front of me. His voice echoed slightly inside his blank faceplate; it was actually how I had imagined Grue's voice would sound. It was also creepy as hell.

It wasn't the creepiness that sent a chill down my back. It was the question. What do they know? How do they know? "Uh, not really," I managed.

"Thought so," the guard replied, with a note of satisfaction in his voice. "The Director's name is pronounced 'Pig-oh.'."

I blinked. Ah. Something that never came up in the story. Then again, why would it? They all know how it's pronounced. "Yeah, I've only ever seen it written down."

"Which makes us wonder what business you have with her," the guard, added, someone what more sharply.

Am I finished before I've started? "I emailed her last night. Stuff she needs to know about. I'm here to talk to her about it. She knows I'm coming."

There was a long silence, broken by a faint mumbling sound. I realised that he was speaking on the radio. He seemed to return his attention to me. "Are you armed?"

"I have keys and a pocketknife in my right-hand pants pocket," I said clearly. "Wallet in my left pants pocket. A phone in my jacket pocket. I have nothing else that can be used as a weapon. I can take off my jacket if you wish."

Click to shrink...

 

[Ack]

Security!

Chapter Forty-Five: Undersiders!


I pulled over and stopped the vehicle. Grabbing the city directory from the dashboard, I figured out where I was, then where the address Emily had given me was. Then I spent the next few minutes working out how to get from point A (where I was) to point B (where the Undersiders were). Brockton Bay, I quickly decided, as befitted a city that was originally laid out in the heyday of colonial expansion, had streets that went all over the place. A bowl of spaghetti hardly came into the picture.

Eventually, I had it sorted out, or so I figured. I didn't feel like pulling the old standby of going via Lord Street, which would basically double travel time, so I was going to have to go right up the middle. So to speak.

In the event, it was a little easier than I expected. Amy's brain mods had improved my long-term memory retrieval, and I guessed that had had a little bit of an effect on my short-term memory as well, because I was able to recognise the streets that I needed to take as I came up to them. I didn't quite have an image of the map in my mind with a blinking dot showing where I was, but I wasn't getting lost, either. This was a good thing.

Still and all, I was a little dubious when I got to the destination, which appeared to be the parking lot of a closed-down Seven-Eleven. I pulled to a halt, stopped the engine and got out. Straggly grass had taken root between slabs of ill-fitting concrete, and one of the sliding glass doors in the darkened building had been broken.

Unfortunately, of Undersiders, there seemed to be a distinct lack.

From sheer habit after a long drive, I went to stretch, to pop my back into place again. It didn't happen; nor, as I noticed, were my joints sore. Another thing to thank Riley for. The lingering after-effects of my encounters with Trainwreck and Lung were still making themselves known, but that wasn't her fault.

I strolled around the parking lot, looking up and down the street. "Well, I'm here," I muttered, shading my eyes and staring across the road at a similarly abandoned service station. "Where the hell are they?"

The voice was hollow and echoing, and about ten feet behind me. "Right here."

I came around fast, my combat mods flaring, and then being suppressed again when I realised that it was indeed just the Undersiders. They stood there in a row, with three dogs alongside Bitch; dissipating clouds of blackness indicated how they'd sneaked up on me. I guessed, belatedly, that they'd actually been inside the derelict building until I turned my back.

"Christ," I snapped. "Don't do that. I don't need any more grey hairs."

Tattletale chuckled, Regent smirked, Bitch glowered and Grue's face was unreadable behind his skull-mask visor. I looked them over as my heart rate returned to something approaching normal. "So, you're ready to go in and talk to the Director about stuff, huh?"

Tattletale nodded. "That's the plan. You've smoothed it?"

"Basically," I agreed. "Not all of you are needed for what's going on, but you're all included in the deal. Because I'm not that much of a bastard."

She nodded, as if I'd said a great deal more. Which, I supposed, I had. "And you're willing to sit in on the meeting." It wasn't a question.

"Make sure she plays fair, yeah," I agreed.

Grue cleared his throat. "You can't tell us what we're needed for?"

"Not 'us'," Lisa informed him. "Just me. But he's going to push for the best deal for all of us." Which informed me of something else, just as she intended. She hasn't told them about saving the world. Because they can't handle it, or because they don't need to know?

I have to trust that she knows them well enough to make that call.

"Why?" asked Bitch bluntly.

I looked across at her, and took my sunglasses off so that she could see my eyes. "Because you, any of you, don't deserve most of the shit that's landed on you, before and after you got your powers," I told her just as bluntly. "I can't change what's already happened, but I will stand up for you now."

"Why?" she asked again. "What are we to you? What do you want from us?"

"That's actually a good question," rumbled Grue. "Both of them."

"I can't really answer the first one, not without a lot more time," I prevaricated. "Just accept that I'm on your side. I won't screw you over, and I won't let you down."

"Big talk for a guy who had us captured by the PRT once already," commented Regent idly. "And who came here without any backup." He idly played with his sceptre, flipping it up and catching it again.

"He's telling the truth," Lisa interjected. "He fully intends to help us." She paused. "And Grue? If you're really considering punching him anyway? Don't."

Grue raised his head slightly. "I wasn't. What happened to you, anyway? You look like you've been in a fight. And a fire."

"I have." I didn't let my expression change. "Which is not relevant to the discussion. You guys coming or not?"

"You never said what you wanted from us," Regent pointed out.

"Right now? Don't be a smartarse. Don't be a dick. Don't attack anyone. And pay attention. That concise enough for you?"

Grue nodded slowly. I glanced at Lisa, whose jaw was slowly dropping open. "Holy shit," she whispered. I wondered what she'd picked up on. Then I wondered what she hadn't picked up on. The second list was probably shorter.

"What?" asked Grue.

She shook her head. "I'll tell you later. Yeah, I'm in." She nudged Regent. "Well?"

Casually, the slender teen shrugged. "I guess. I still don't see what I get out of it, though."

"Not Heartbreaker," I reminded him bluntly.

He winced. "Low blow," he muttered.

"You kind of asked for it," I reminded him. "Rachel?"

"You can't take my dogs away," she told me defiantly.

"Wasn't about to," I replied. "But you've got to agree not to attack anyone once we're inside. Even if they look at you funny, or say something you don't like. Trust me to handle it. Got it?"

Her lips thinned; she obviously didn't like making even this concession. She glared back at me. I didn't drop my gaze; I was bigger, taller, heavier, obviously stronger. After another moment, probably to show that she wasn't a pushover, she looked away. "Fine," she muttered.

"Good." I rounded the pickup, unlocked the passenger side door. "Did you bring a vehicle, or are you on dogback?"

"We've got a car," Grue offered. "We decided not to be too obvious about it."

"Okay, then," I decided. "One or two of you can ride with me. Dogs can go in the tray. The rest of you in your car. You can follow me on in, so we get there together. Yeah?"

=///=​

In the end, we compromised; Lisa rode in the front of my pickup with me, while Rachel sat in the tray with her dogs around her. Grue and Regent drove behind in a car that the Undersiders had acquired from someplace; I didn't ask too closely about it.

As we started off, Lisa looked at me, at my still-bandaged arm, at my face, and seemed to be bubbling over with questions. "Did you really -" she began.

"Yeah," I confirmed.

"What happened?" she burst out. "There's something different about you. A whole lot. You look the same, but … "

"Appearances, deceiving, check," I agreed. "Okay, in order. Heart attack, Riley, we can rebuild him."

She paused, frowning. "Riley? Wait." A pause. "Bonesaw?"

"Huh," I muttered. That didn't take long. "Yup."

"Bonesaw, holy shit," she muttered. "She's alive? She's alive. Who else in the Nine's alive? The news said they were all dead."

"Just one or two," I revealed. "Most of them are dead."

"You ordered the attack," she noted. "Eidolon carried it out. You said to keep some of them alive. Why? Same reason Canary's out of the Birdcage." She paused, her lips moving silently. When she spoke, it was carefully and slowly. "This is all to do with saving the world, isn't it? Same reason you want me to work with Accord and Dragon. And it's not just me, not just Weaver and Panacea. There's a whole lot of other people you're bringing in on this. Lung. Bakuda."

I checked my watch and chuckled. "Wow. Thirty seconds, and you're almost up to speed already. You're on a roll today."

She wrinkled her nose at me. "You did kind of trail the clues in front of me. All I need to know now is what we're saving the world from."

I didn't rise to the bait.

"You already said that you were taking the Endbringers out of the equation … " She paused, frowning. "How, exactly, were you doing that, again?"

"Well, I hope I am," I confessed. "We'll know by the fifteenth of May."

"Being the projected date of the next attack, by Leviathan, in Brockton Bay," she recited promptly.

"Correct on all counts," I confirmed. "You sneaky little hacker, you."

She gave me her best shit-eating grin. "I'm Tattletale. It's what I do."

"Of course it is," I agreed. "Was that while you were checking up on me for Coil?"

"Actually, yes," she admitted. The grin was back in full force. "You scared the living shit out of him, do you know that?"

I nodded. "That was the general idea, yes."

"How?"

It was my turn to grin. "Saving the world, yeah? I have allies. He met one of them. There was no contest."

Her grin was back. "Good." She paused, getting herself back on track. "Okay, so is Leviathan still going to attack?"

A shrug. "With any luck, no," I told her. "Hopefully, he'll take a rain check."

She put her hand over her eyes. "I don't believe you just said that."

It took me a moment to realise what I'd just said. "Hah. Pun not intended."

"Okay, so not Endbringers," she mused. "What else can even … oh. No way. No fucking way."

Again, I glanced at her. She met my gaze, despite my sunglasses. "Oh shit," she muttered. "It's true, isn't it?"

I nodded seriously. "I'm afraid so."

She stared at me "How the fuck," she asked plaintively, "are we supposed to beat him?"

I didn't feel like grinning, but I gave her one anyway. "Trust me," I told her. "I have a plan."

She didn't look at all reassured.

=///=​

As we cruised past the PRT building, looking for a place to park, Lisa pointed. "I think that's for us."

I looked over that way, and sure enough, a PRT soldier was removing traffic cones from two angle parking spaces. He looked around and waved me over, and I pulled straight into the far one; Grue swung into the space beside. Putting the pickup out of gear, I set the park brake, killed the engine, and got out. Rachel was already climbing out; she whistled sharply, and the dogs jumped out after her.

"You weren't too uncomfortable back there?" I asked her as I locked the door.

She gave me an unreadable look. "I've had worse."

I nodded in acknowledgement, then stepped up on to the pavement. "Hi," I told the soldier. "Security. You're the escort for the Undersiders?"

He might have been a little surprised by my lack of costume, or he may simply have been checking in by radio. In any case, he took a couple of seconds to reply. "Yes, sir, I am. Follow me."

Carrying the traffic cones, he led us around to the front of the building. I was unsurprised to see that the outer door was locked until a guard inside turned a key; they obviously didn't want any unessential personnel inside the lobby right at that moment.

As we entered, I dropped back so that I was walking between Rachel and the lobby guards, with the dogs at her heel. As the doors closed behind us, the escort put the traffic cones down next to the counter and turned back to us. "The dogs will have to -"

" - come up with us," I overrode him, before Rachel could begin to fire up. "This is non-negotiable. They stay with us, every step of the way."

He shook his head. "That's not -"

"The hell it's not," I snapped. "These people were asked to come in. That means that you don't get to set arbitrary rules." I stepped up to him, stood face to blank faceplate. "The dogs come with, or we walk out. Right now. Call the Director. See what she thinks."

I totally ignored the other guards in the lobby at my back; if they foamed us, they foamed us, but I wasn't going to back down, not after the assurance that I'd given Rachel, earlier.

I was pretty sure that Lisa wanted to come in; the loss of income was one thing, but I liked to think that she and I had formed a certain rapport, and she wanted to know what I knew. Brian seemed less sure, but between my assurances and the help I'd given him with Aisha, I figured he was willing to give it a go. Alec would be a difficult case; I wasn't sure if I could give him a place to be, but he had the spectre of Heartbreaker looming over him. Although I had the impression that he was sticking with his teammates more or less out of inertia than of any real need to be there.

And Rachel … she had the least reason of all to trust in human nature, in the assurances of authority figures. Too many times, from her mother to the various foster parents, to the legal system when she triggered, she had learned the hard way that she could trust nobody except herself. The gulf between herself and the rest of humanity was widened by her lack of literacy and inability to divine human body language, to the point where her only valid reaction to almost anything was to lash out.

I had helped Taylor, had stood up for her when she most desperately needed it. Now, she was in a good place, in a good team, at a good school, with a good friend, making progress on her own; the lambasting she had handed me following my encounter with Lung was ample proof that she was well and truly able to stand on her own two feet. I would remain her friend, but she didn't need a protector, not any more.

Rachel, on the other hand, although she could handle herself physically, needed someone to stand up for her against authority figures, whether she wanted it or not. Her reaction to this guard would most likely have been sufficient to destroy any chances the Undersiders had for moving on to the straight and narrow, and so I stepped in.

I stood there, confronting the soldier, willing the Undersiders to stay back and let me handle it. The Director, I was certain, had afforded me a certain level of unofficial VIP status, hopefully enough to swing this.

Pretty sure, anyway.

Fairly sure.

Reasonably sure?

The silence stretched out; just as I was about to turn about and tell the Undersiders that we were going, he nodded reluctantly. "They can keep the dogs. But I'll need them to hand over all weapons."

I nodded. "That's fair." I walked over to the receptionist's counter, noting that the shutters were down, and removed the Glock from my underarm holster, placing it on the counter. To this, I added my pocket knife.

The guard shook his head. "Sir, you don't have to disarm. Just the Undersiders."

I took off my sunglasses and hung them from the front of my shirt. "If they have to disarm, I disarm as well. It's as simple as that."

He wasn't about to change his ruling, and so we stood back while the pile of weapons on the counter grew; Lisa's little pistol, a knife from Grue, another from Bitch; Regent, after a meaningful glance from me, placed his sceptre down too. Lisa gave me a measured nod; by standing up for them, by disarming alongside them, I had identified myself with the Undersiders, not with the PRT. In that way, I built trust with the villain group. Or at least, I hoped so.

In any case, my pistol and pocket knife would do damn-all against any kind of threat that might come up; if Emily wanted to pull a double-cross, she knew quite well what sort of shit would fall upon her from a great height. Or at least, I devoutly hoped that was still the case.

Just as we started moving toward the elevator, I stopped and cleared my throat. Everyone looked at me. "Just so you know," I stated clearly. "If you're here, be aware that security cameras will pick you up. Show yourself, now, before this gets awkward."

There was a long moment of silence, and I began to wonder if I'd underestimated Aisha's levels of mischief and curiosity. And then Tattletale made a motion with her elbow, and all of a sudden it was like Aisha had always been there, standing between her brother and the blonde. Ignoring the exclamations of surprise from the guards, she gave me a sullen look. "How the fuck did you know I was here?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I didn't, not really. But I couldn't see you passing this up. And like I said, if you'd stayed hidden, you wouldn't have gotten far. That could've queered this whole deal. Not going to let that happen."

She didn't have the full Imp costume at this point; it was a dark grey bodysuit with a matching domino mask. From her expression, she was somewhat pissed at me for uncovering her little subterfuge. "And how the fuck did you know about the camera thing? I didn't know that."

"I'm not on Tattletale's level," I responded, "but there's stuff I do know. And details like that about your powers? That's part of it. Now, no more screwing around. This is a serious meeting, and I'd like the end result to be acceptable to everyone here. Bullshit like using powers to sneak in like that? Bad precedent."

Grue elbowed her. "What the hell were you thinking?" he asked; from the tone in his voice, he was either good at acting or he hadn't known.

From the look on Tattletale's face, she'd probably known about it and was waiting to see if any of us would pick up on it. I raised an eyebrow slightly in her direction. Really?

All she gave me in return was a slight shrug; I guessed it meant Old habits die hard, or something of that nature.

In the meantime, Aisha was speaking. "It was just something to do," she protested. "What the fuck, B-Grue? You've done worse."

"Not when we were going in to speak to them about giving up being villains," Tattletale told her seriously. "Mike's right. We should be playing this straight all the way."

Hypocrite, I thought with mild amusement; I wasn't sure what she saw in my expression or posture, but one corner of her mouth curved upward ever so slightly.

"Fine, I'll go then," Aisha muttered. "You guys are no fun." She turned toward the doors.

"Go ahead," I told her off-handedly. "We'll be making decisions about you while we're up there. Sure you don't want to be there to have a say?"

She glared at me. "You will fucking not."

My return gaze was almost placid. "Yes. We will. You've got the choice to get all pissy and walk out, or come in with us, don't fuck around, and get a direct say in your future. And trust me, this is about the last time you get an opportunity like this."

Silence, as she tried to stare me down. From behind the mask, her eyes challenged mine. I stopped myself blinking; it was a minor physical effort, and my eyeballs started to itch after a little bit, but I was able to maintain it until she gave up.

"Fuck," she muttered, rubbing her own eyes in sympathy as I blinked a few times, "how do you fucking do that?"

"Old age and treachery versus youth and enthusiasm," I advised her blandly, then held out my hand. "Knife."

Her eyes widened behind the mask. "What? I'm not carrying a knife."

I glanced at Grue. "Is she?"

He turned to her. "If you've got one, hand it over," he growled, his helmet making his voice even more menacing. "The longer we spend time on this bullshit ... "

She rolled her eyes, reached behind her back and produced a folding knife. "Fine," she muttered. "Be that way." She slapped it into my hand with unnecessary force.

"Thanks, I will," I replied as I dropped the knife on the counter with everything else. "You gonna behave?"

She gave me the finger. "Yeah, but I don't have to enjoy it."

"I suspect," I murmured with a smile, "that you won't be alone."

=///=​

It was crowded in the lift; the PRT escort stood in one corner, while the rest of us stood around the walls, and the dogs sat in the middle, more or less at Bitch's feet. At everyone's feet. They panted happily; at that, they were the most relaxed ones in the elevator.

We didn't go all the way to the top floor; I had half expected this interview to take place in the Director's office, but of course it made more sense to hold it in a conference room. Larger, more room for people to move around. Less feeling of confinement, less chance of tempers flaring.

Not always a given, with Bitch. I would have to keep an eye on her, just in case. And Aisha.

Not entirely to my surprise, when the elevator doors opened, we were met by both Armsmaster and Miss Militia.

I stepped part-way from the lift, blocking the doors, and placed myself in front of Armsmaster. "They're here by request, to discuss a potential change of status. Has this changed in any way?" Is this just a show of force, or are you here to screw us over at the eleventh hour?

He paused for a long moment, then shook his head. "It hasn't changed." He didn't sound happy, which, paradoxically, put me more at ease. Armsmaster couldn't put on an act to save his life. If he was unhappy about villains wandering around in the PRT base, it was because he couldn't touch them.

I smiled at him, showing my teeth. "Cheer up. This goes well, pretty soon you'll be able to give them orders. Won't that be nice?"

From in front of me, I heard a grunt from Armsmaster. From behind, a muted gagging sound from Aisha, or perhaps Regent. Great. Both sides hate the idea. I do believe that's what they call an acceptable compromise.

"Excellent," I told him, still smiling. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

"Yes." He didn't sound any happier. He set off along the corridor; I stepped aside to let the others out of the elevator, and they followed him. I hung back, and fell in alongside Miss Militia, glancing briefly at the claymore she wore across her back.

"How are you?" she asked. "I heard a few things."

"Probably true," I confirmed; I was unprepared for the light punch on the arm that she gave me. "Okay, what was that for?"

She rolled her eyes above the flag-patterned scarf. "You being an idiot and trying to do everything at once. You could've been hurt. Killed, even."

"I've been told all this in detail, repeatedly," I agreed. "Yes, I was an idiot. Yes, I could've done things a bit more smoothly. I've been told off by superheroes, an ex-supervillain, and a couple of civilians. Trust me, I got it."

"Okay, if you say so," she agreed with a nod. The claymore became a Desert Eagle, then a hunting rifle, then a knife, which she slipped into a sheath at her belt.

I watched in fascination. "Is that you showing off, or just kind of twiddling your thumbs?"

"Yes." I couldn't see her mouth, but her tone was light; she sounded amused.

I rolled my eyes. "Smartarse."

She chuckled.

=///=​

The conference room table was long enough that the Undersiders could all sit along one side of it; without even bothering to confer, the chose the side away from the door, so they could see whoever came in. Bitch sat near one corner with her dogs, then Regent, Tattletale, Aisha – I wasn't quite sure what name she was using – and Grue. I sat at the end of the table, near Bitch.

One of her dogs sniffed at me, wagging its tail; I thought it might have been the one that I had taken to them, the last time they had been in this building. Under her watchful eye, I offered my hand to sniff, then scratched the dog behind the ear. A tongue lolled, panting, and its tail wagged.

She continued to stare at me, as if trying to make me out. I looked back at her. "Did all the dogs make it out?"

She frowned. "What?"

"Your dogs. The last time you were here, you left in a hurry, to save them. Did they all make it out okay?"

"Yeah." It was a grunt. "No thanks to you."

I thought briefly about telling her that I wasn't trying to claim credit. "Good. I don't like to see dogs hurt."

Her lip curled. "You don't care about dogs. You care about people more."

"Sure, but I still care about dogs. I don't know them as well as you do – no-one does – but I still care." My voice was flat, uninflected, my expression neutral.

She abruptly changed tack. "Why are you on our side?" It wasn't quite disbelief any more, but she still wanted to know. "Why did you challenge Armsmaster?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the armoured hero's head come up, from where he was standing by the door. Miss Militia, more in my line of sight as she stood at the other end of the table, tilted her head slightly. Neither hero spoke, for which I was glad.

"Because I know you; I know of your history, your background, your problems. I know what you want and what you need. I know what happened to make you trigger. And believe it or not, I just want to help you, give you opportunities that you wouldn't have had otherwise. To give you a chance at a better life."

Although I was addressing them all, I spoke directly to Bitch. My tone was still flat, direct. Just for a moment, I saw her facade crack; a younger, more vulnerable Rachel looked out at me. And then she closed down again. Her voice was a grunt. "We'll see."

"Yes. We will."

=///=​

Bitch and I looked around; the door had opened, and Director Piggot stood in the opening. It was she who had spoken the words; as we watched, she stepped forwards into the room. She may have been moving more easily; I couldn't be sure if it was just my imagination or not. But the steel-grey eyes were the same, witness to an indomitable will that had overcome the frailties of a body ravaged by injury and ill health. She had held together the PRT, and with it the Protectorate, in Brockton Bay for over a decade, during which time the city had slid farther and farther into decline. She nodded to me; I nodded back. "Mr Allen."

"Director Piggot," I replied politely, standing as I did so. The Undersiders followed my lead, albeit a little belatedly; Grue had to nudge Aisha to get her to do the same.

Two people followed the Director into the room; one I knew and one I did not. Aegis nodded to me; I nodded back. The other person was a greying, careworn-looking man; Piggot gestured to him. "I don't know if you've met my deputy."

"Deputy Director Renick," I greeted him, leaning across the corner of the table to offer my hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, sir."

He shook it. "The pleasure is mutual, Mr Allen. And these are the Undersiders?" He peered at them. "I was given to understand that there were four of them. I count five." Aisha made a face at him; Grue elbowed her in the ribs.

"There were, up until a few days ago," I noted. "The young lady in grey ... I believe your name might be Imp?"

She stared at me. "Okay, that's totally not fair. How are you doing that?"

I gave her my best bland look. "Same way I knew about your powers." Turning back to Renick and Aegis, I added, "Imp is their latest member. She triggered during the gang war. She's likely to be the most problematic when it comes to attitude, but on the other hand, I doubt that she's participated in any major crimes that you have to worry about."

"I might have," interjected the teen sulkily. "You never know."

"For f- for god's sake, shut up!" muttered Grue, elbowing her again.

Director Piggot took her seat; I sat down again. Renick sat alongside the Director, then Armsmaster shut the door. Before he did, I got a glimpse of our friendly escort outside in the hallway, with at least one other guard for company. Armsmaster and Miss Militia sat flanking the Director and the Deputy Director; Aegis sat at the far end, opposite me. Miss Militia sat facing Bitch, while Armsmaster and Grue were face to face.

Director Piggot placed a device on the table, and pressed a button on it; there was a faint beep. "This is Emily Piggot, Director of PRT East-North-East," she recited. "This meeting is taking place in the PRT building, on Wednesday the twenty-seventh of April, two thousand and eleven. Present are myself, Deputy Director Renick, Armsmaster and Miss Militia of the Protectorate, Aegis of the Wards, Michael Allen, and the Undersiders."

She paused; I took the opportunity to speak. "So, just out of curiosity, is there actually a format for this; inducting supervillain teams into the Wards? Because I'm pretty sure there wouldn't be much need for it."

"No, there isn't," Piggot replied tightly, "but we do have a format for recruitment, and that can be adapted."

"If I might be so bold," I responded, "it's not quite the same as recruitment."

Renick looked over at me. "Would you mind explaining that statement?"

"Certainly," I told him. "Here, the stakes are higher. With recruitment, you've got the recruit wanting to show his paces, prove he's good enough to be in the Wards. Here, you've got people who are capable enough to be in the Wards – or they wouldn't have made it in the supervillain world – but you're not sure if they're 'good' enough to toe the line. You've got to convince them that it's worth their while to come in from the cold, to join the forces of law and order."

"And in the meantime," Armsmaster put in, "two of them have murder charges pending."

Bitch stiffened slightly, and Regent leaned back slightly in his chair. I shook my head.

"Nope," I stated clearly.

He paused, then leaned forward so that he could look at me more clearly. "What do you mean, 'nope'?"

"I mean," I retorted, "that you're going to have those charges quashed. Expunged. Written off."

Now I had everyone staring at me.

"That's not going to happen," Armsmaster assured me flatly.

"Sure it is," I replied. "Any halfway competent judge would drop the charges to involuntary manslaughter in a heartbeat." I indicated Bitch with a nod. "Trigger event, untrained dog, scared child, involving someone who tried to murder her dog. She did not mean to make her dog grow large, and she didn't have the wherewithal to rein the poor creature in once it was grown. I'm not saying the woman deserved it, but I'm also saying that Rachel doesn't deserve to be prosecuted for something that happened very much in the heat of the moment."

"Her crimes since -" he began.

" - happened because she's never had an authority figure that she could trust. Just one social worker who understood that she was being emotionally abused, one foster parent who actually cared for her instead of the money they were getting. Never happened. Society failed her, and when she triggered, society paid. Now, she wants to end the cycle. She does. Do not even consider trying to perpetuate it because of a mistake someone else made."

My voice was low and cold and hard, and I was gripping the edge of the table. I stopped myself with an effort, breathed in and out through my nostrils. Let go the table, trying to ignore the shallow depressions that my fingertips had left behind. Raised my head and lightened my tone. "Seriously, give the kid a break. Geez."

Silence fell across the room; if I'd thought that everyone was staring at me before, that was nothing on the intensity of their combined gaze at this moment. Miss Militia's eyes were wider than normal, and her right hand was out of sight under the table; I had no doubt but that she had something suitably lethal in it. The Deputy Director was looking very slightly apprehensive; I had equally little doubt that he'd been briefed in on the modifications that Riley had given me. The Director's face was hard, although I wasn't quite sure what was going through her mind. Armsmaster's lips were pressed together to the point that they were almost invisible.

At the other end of the table, Aegis was studying me carefully, as if trying to decide if he could take me. Grue's face was hidden behind his visor, of course, but it was still turned toward me. Aisha's eyes were wide behind the domino mask; perhaps she was revising whatever opinion she held of me. Lisa's gaze bored into mine, with what might have been flashes of understanding flickering across her face. Regent looked bored, but I was pretty sure that was a facade; he'd had years to perfect it. And Bitch … she was looking at me as though she'd never seen me before.

Deputy Director Renick cleared his throat; a few people jumped. "I, uh … those were very evocative words, Mr Allen. I'm sure we can definitely revisit the facts of that case, see about taking those factors into account. But what about the other one? Regent, also known as Hijack, also known as Jean-Paul Vasil? His charges cannot be ascribed to a trigger event."

Regent was leaning forward in his chair, his eyes fixed on the Deputy Director. I gestured to get his attention, shook my head slightly. Then I turned to Renick.

"No, that's true. Not a trigger event situation at all. Regent's even easier to deal with. His father's name is Nikos Vasil. Otherwise known as Heartbreaker. He's a Master, who controls people via their emotions. He had Jean-Paul Mastered almost from birth. Once he hit the boy with a dose of terror so bad, he didn't speak for six months or more. I think this was over an argument with his sisters about who got the TV remote."

I paused to let this sink in. I was breathing more deeply, letting the calm sink back into my centre. Talking about Bitch had unsettled me on an emotional level; I was surprised about how angry I had let myself get.

"So yeah, when he managed to force his kid to trigger – oh yeah, Heartbreaker forces his children to trigger – he then wanted to make sure that he could uphold family loyalty. So he told him to kill an underling." I paused. "I just want to make this clear. His father, a Master, ordered him to do this. The man who could and would inflict a terrifying emotional penalty on him if he failed, or disobeyed orders. In fact, had done just that in the past. And he was a minor. I'm pretty sure we can work a case for coercion out of that. Maybe even diminished responsibility." I leaned back in my chair. "So yeah, not exactly bad to the bone serial killers, either one."

Emily Piggot nodded. "Your points are valid, Mr Allen. There are many situations where trigger events have cost lives; occasionally, even those of family members. And of course, yes, Masters muddy the waters considerably when it comes to determining ultimate responsibility for a crime. Heartbreaker is still a problem that the Canadian authorities are trying to deal with, much as Nilbog is a thorn in our side." She paused. "You don't happen to have a solution for that, do you?"

I shook my head. "Not a cut and dried solution, no. But Nilbog – Jamie Rinke – actually has his real body buried some distance underground. The Goblin King is a remote controlled puppet. This is why you were never able to kill him, before."

Her eyes widened fractionally, and I saw the wheels turning behind her eyes. "So that's it … " she murmured, then she regained her professional mien. "Well, that's a problem for another time. Right now, we have five potentially troublesome super-powered teenagers who want to go straight." She gave them,collectively, a hard stare. "Convince me why this is a good idea."

I folded my hands before me. "Well, actually, I don't think all of them need to go into the Wards."

=///=​

With admirable self-control, Emily Piggot got a grip on herself; she looked like she wanted to either facepalm or bang her head against the table. "Kindly explain," she gritted.

"Well, Grue's a good one for the Wards," I hastened to tell her. "He would have great synergy with Weaver; as we've already proven, her bug control works inside his darkness. Likewise, Tattletale's really good at figuring out the weaknesses of an enemy." Grue didn't seem to react; Lisa just looked smug.

"And of the other three?" asked Renick. "Two people with current murder charges and a very new recruit?"

I nodded. "Imp has the ability to make people forget her. Cameras can see her, but anyone looking directly at her basically forgets the fact that she exists. As you can imagine, this has amazing potential in the field." I held up a finger. "She does have a slight problem with attention span, but even recognising this lets you work with it."

Renick nodded. "That's not an insurmountable problem."

"Also," I added, "Grue's criminal activity to date has been aimed at getting security for Imp; specifically, to get her out of her current family situation. Which, admittedly, is horrible. Give him custody of her, and I'm pretty sure that they'd both be happy with that arrangement."

"Given the specific information, I'm sure that something could be worked out," Renick agreed, in his element at last. "Also, each of you would be paid a wage, and more into a trust fund. You would be required to attend schooling -"

"Whoa, whoa," objected the youngest Undersider, making a 'time-out' motion. "Deal breaker, deal breaker."

"No," Grue admonished her. "This is looking good. They'll pay us for this, and you can leave … her. Don't go pulling that shit now." He looked up. "Sorry, sir. Oh, and just by the way, I've already gotten my GED online."

"So have I," Tattletale added. "So far, it's just Imp we have to worry about."

"I don't want to have to go to school," grumped Aisha, slumping down into her chair. "School's for losers."

"I don't want to go to school either," Bitch stated flatly. "They'll call me stupid. I've already had enough of that."

Leaning back in his chair, Regent made a careless gesture that very adequately conveyed the opinion that school was a waste of time, and he didn't want to attend either. I ignored him for the moment, and focused on Bitch. For her, I had a potential solution; for him, not so much.

"I have a question," I posited. "How much reward money is coming my way for giving Eidolon the information on the Nine?"

Piggot frowned, ignoring the raised eyebrows around the room. "It hasn't been cleared yet, but it will only be a small fraction of the full total. Why, did you want a payout?"

I shook my head. "I want to use it to establish a dog pound. A big one. On land that's not being used any more." By now, I had Bitch's undivided attention. I nodded to her. "You go to Rachel here for the specifications you need, and you get her to run it. She gets final say on all decisions. Close down all the other municipal dog pounds, all the shelters, funnel them all in to her."

Rachel shook her head, looking unsure for the first time since I'd met her. "I – I can't run a place like that. I can take care of dogs. I can't do the business side of things."

"It's not going to be a problem," I assured her. "There'll be staff on hand to deal with paperwork and other bullshit. You're the one who'll be taking care of the dogs, having people telling you what the paperwork means, and telling people what to do about it. And you'll be paying them, so they'll have to do what you say."

Piggot grimaced. "I don't know, Mr Allen. What you're saying sounds good, but it will be a very expensive operation. Paying enough staff to maintain the dogs, as well as feeding, veterinary bills, and so on … "

"That's the other half of the operation," I told her. "Training."

"Training?" asked Renick.

Rachel's expression was changing as she grasped my meaning. "Training?" she asked also, but in an entirely different tone to Renick's.

"Training," I affirmed. "Rachel, think you could train a police dog?"

She curled her lip, but only slightly. "You know I can."

I nodded firmly. "Yes, I know." I turned my head slightly, so as to address Renick, but keeping her in my field of view. "Rachel Lindt understands dogs, sir. She understands them on a deeper level than you or I ever could. We look at a dog and see a head, a body, four legs, a tail. If the tail's wagging, it's probably happy. Rachel looks at a dog and sees what it's thinking, what it wants, how to communicate with it. She can train dogs because she can think like them. I'd be willing to bet that she could train dogs for the police, the military, for search and rescue, drug sniffing, guide dogs for the blind, and a host of other purposes, and she'd do it easier, faster and more effectively than any other so-called dog expert in the world."

"And each and every one of those organisations," Lisa added brightly, "would be willing to pay through the nose for a dog that's trained to the level that Rachel's capable of."

Renick looked thoughtful. "I see. That could really work, especially with the seed money to start it off." He looked at Rachel. "You would be willing to do this work, miss?"

"Sure," she replied bluntly. "So long as I was in charge, like he said."

He didn't take offence at her tone; instead, he looked at her thoughtfully for a long moment. She began to bristle, but I caught her eye and shook my head slightly. "He's thinking about it," I murmured.

"Oh." She subsided. Her hands, clenched into fists, relaxed slightly.

Renick turned to Piggot. "Director, do you think it's a viable opportunity?"

Reluctantly, she nodded. "We'd have to work around NEPEA-Five, but I think it's doable, especially with PRT backing."

"What's that?" I asked.

It was Renick who answered. "A government bill seeking to limit parahuman involvement in business and media. But it's aimed at parahumans combining their capabilities to outperform competitors in an unfair manner. Ms Lindt will be working on her own, with normal human backing."

I could almost feel Rachel's tension ratcheting up beside me. Hastily I asked, "But it won't be a problem? With the reward money, this could get done?"

"Oh, certainly," Renick confirmed. "We'd have to do some serious brushcutting of red tape, but once the Mayor's office realises that they can shut down their shelters and pounds, and allocate funds elsewhere, I can't see there being a problem."

"And anything that gets those damn monster dogs off of my streets is a good thing," growled the Director.

"Oh, I don't think that they'd be gone from the streets," I interjected mildly. "But when she takes them out for a run, she won't be setting out to break the law in the process. Which has to be a bonus, right?"

She shot me a sour look. "Anything's too much. But this is a good start."

Renick made a note on his own pad. "I'll start making phone calls once we finish here."

"Which brings us to Regent," I noted. "Last but, as the saying goes, not least."

Alec leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table so that he could look down toward me. "So what kind of rabbit are you going to pull out of your non-existent hat for me? I'm a Master. Nobody wants me in their precious super-teams. Especially when it comes to who my father is, because somehow that never goes away."

I nodded. "That's a very good point. But I didn't arrange for you guys to get a chance to talk to the Director without giving you a chance as well."

He shrugged elaborately. "Don't see them laying out the red carpet for me."

I gave him a hard stare. "If you got offered a place, would you take it?"

Another shrug. "Not sure I'm all that interested in going to school."

I tried not to frown. I'd known he was very passive-aggressive, but this was like trying to set fire to a lump of jello. Whatever tactic I used, he just absorbed.

He and Aisha were a thing, in another time and place.

"Uh, maybe you and Imp could attend the same school, take classes together," I suggested off the top of my head. "Be study buddies, whatever. Laugh at the geeks and nerds and jocks who've got no idea who you really are."

That actually seemed to get his attention; Aisha looked around as well. "Him?" she snorted. "Captain Lazy-Ass?"

He sneered at her; she gave him the finger.

Well, there goes that idea.

Piggot cleared her throat. "Just before you go any farther, Mr Allen. I do not feel comfortable with offering a place in the Wards to Regent. Given his history … "

"Hm," I grunted. "There's got to be something … "

"You can't solve all the problems of the world, Mr Allen," counselled the Director. "Perhaps if he attends a long period of therapy, I might be able to reconsider. But not right now."

I blinked. "Wait, what did you say?"

She stared at me. "I said that I might reconsider if he gets treatment, but not at the moment."

I shook my head, excited. "No, no, something else you said. Tip of the tongue, tip of the tongue. Tattetale, help me out here."

"What? How?" She was alert, trying to grasp my meaning.

"Something the Director said, it can help Regent. Something he can do. A word. Thing."

She paused briefly. "Therapy." Another pause. "Physiotherapy. Holy shit, you're a genius."

Regent looked at me and then at Lisa, giving him the appearance of a spectator at a tennis match. Piggot was apparently trying to ignore Lisa, and so was focused on me. "I fail to see the reason that you are so excited. Kindly fill the rest of us in."

I spread my hands. "Don't you get it? Director, you were in a strike squad, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, a long time ago. How is this relevant?"

"Well, people got injured. They got better, but sometimes the leg or arm never works right afterward. As far as the doctors are concerned, the nerves are all in working order, but the brain's forgotten how to use them. Yeah?"

She was slow to answer. "Yes. Happened to a friend of mine."

"And Regent can override someone's nerves. If he can activate those nerves after an injury, and prove to the person that the body part can be moved, then that should cut down recovery time dramatically."

While Piggot was considering that, Lisa cut in once more. "And there's another reason that he'd be great for it. He doesn't actually care about people."

Miss Militia frowned. "That doesn't exactly sound like someone who'd be good as a medical professional."

Lisa gave her most fox-like grin. "Ah, but physical therapists have to be able to push their patients past the pain. If they cared too much, they'd stop as soon as it started getting difficult. Regent would be able to see the point where it really would start getting too much, and he'd be able to push them to that point and stop there."

"Still, I don't know that many medical organisations would be willing to hire on an ex-supervillain as a physical therapist … " Renick's voice sounded reluctant to voice the opinion.

"Hah!" Everyone turned to look at Aegis. He cleared his throat. "Uh, sorry. But it just occurred to me."

"What did?" asked Armsmaster.

"We hire him," Aegis suggested. "PRT in-house physical therapist. He's getting a wage, he's where we can see him, and PRT troopers are getting hurt all the time. He'd be perfect."

"Except for the fact that he's a Master," objected the Director. "Do we really want him around our wounded troopers?"

I shrugged. "Assign him a guard when he's on duty. It takes him a lot of effort, and a few hours of concentration, to actually acclimate to a single person to the point that he can control them thereafter. And the person kind of notices. If anyone mentions it, the guard deals with the situation."

Aegis nodded down the length of the table to me. "Exactly."

I glanced at the Director. "Any other objections?"

She glowered back at me. "Many, but none that actually seem valid."

"Good. Regent, what do you think?"

He seemed to perk up slightly. "So I get to put the hurt on PRT goons, and get paid for it?"

Armsmaster bristled slightly. "I wouldn't put it exactly like that, but … "

"But that's basically it, yeah?"

The armoured hero nodded heavily. "Yes."

Regent grinned. "Sign me up. It might even be fun."

Yeah, that's not creepy at all.

"I'm going to presume that you're joking, Regent," I stated firmly. "You are joking, right?"

He must have seen something in my face. "Yeah, joking. Right. Not about to cause any unnecessary pain."

"Well then," I noted. "That seems to be about that. Anyone else got a problem with the idea? Or anything else we've covered?"

"That does seem to be about it," agreed Renick. "Anyone else? Miss Militia? Armsmaster?"

Hannah shook her head. "I don't have anything to add," she stated quietly.

"I do." Armsmaster's voice was firm. "You're all criminals, or you've associated with criminals. You will all be on probation. Put a foot wrong, and criminal charges will be preferred."

I cleared my throat. "No."

He turned toward me. "I beg your pardon? I am the leader of the Protectorate here in Brockton Bay. You don't overrule me on something like this."

"With all due respect," I told him flatly, "the rules are changing and you know it. Think about it for a moment." I paused. "Probationary, yes. On probation, no. They won't screw up. They know they'll have to face me if they do."

He paused, then reluctantly nodded. "Director, I retract the statement about probation."

She didn't look happy, but she nodded as well. "Thank you, Armsmaster. Aegis?"

"I'm actually on board with the idea," Aegis replied. "Browbeat told us how Regent and, uh, Rachel took him down, before he joined the Wards. I'd much rather have you guys on our side. Especially knowing what you can do."

"Which brings us to the Undersiders," Renick noted. "Do any of you have issues with what we've spoken about today?"

Rachel shook her head. "Just do what you said you would."

No-one else seemed willing to comment; Director Piggot reached out to the recorder. "This meeting is over. Stopping recorder – now."

Just as she pressed the button, Aisha let out a muffled sound; looking over, I saw that Lisa had her hand over the shorter teen's mouth. Piggot looked at them suspiciously, as Lisa took her hand away. "What's that about?"

"Nothing," Lisa told her innocently. "My hand slipped."

Piggot stared hard at her, then at Aisha. "Is that what happened?"

"Yeah," Aisha admitted reluctantly. "Her hand slipped. That's what happened."

Like hell, I thought. Aisha was about to say something obscene so it went on to the recording, and Lisa stopped her.

"Indeed." Piggot's expression told me that she had a good idea of what was really going on, but that she was not intending to pursue it at that moment. I figured that Aisha would have to smarten her act up if she wasn't to end up in trouble, once she joined the Wards.

But then, once that happened, it wasn't going to be my problem any more.

One by one, we stood up; Aegis reached across to Grue. "It'll be good having you guys in the Wards," he stated. "I mean it."

Grue shook his hand. "It should be interesting, all right," he agreed.

I rounded the table and shook Renick's hand, and Piggot's as well. "Thank you for doing this," I told her.

"Thank you for helping keep order," she replied. "I suspect it could have gone a lot worse, otherwise." Her gaze narrowed. "I just hope I'm not going to regret this in days to come."

"Look at it this way," I suggested. "When they cause problems, you'll know exactly where to get hold of them."

She tilted her head slightly. "You're right. That improves matters. Not totally, but just a little." A pause, while she looked at me appraisingly. "You're an aggravating man, but at least you're trying to solve problems, not create them."

"Which reminds me," I told her. "Spread the word. Friday night. Everyone you've managed to gather. Here instead of my place. I'm going to up the ante a little. Tell people some more of what's going on."

Her eyes opened a little wider. "More?"

"More." My voice was firm.

She nodded, decisively. "What time?"

"It'll start once we're all here," I told her. "There's a precog, remember?"

"Understood. I'll be here."

"Good. Bring Lung and Bakuda."

She blinked. "You have to be fucking kidding."

"Nope. Bring 'em. It's time they understood what's really going on."

"I just hope it doesn't blow up in your face."

"So do I," I told her soberly. "So do I."

=///=​

Aegis and I escorted the Undersiders down in the elevator. Bitch was silent, but it was a thoughtful silence rather than her usual glowering near-rage. Aisha looked sullen, but Lisa couldn't stop grinning. Regent and Grue were as impassive as ever.

In the lobby, we reclaimed our weapons; I checked the Glock and put it away, and slid the pocket knife into my back pocket. As Lisa put her own pistol away, I leaned close to her. "Friday night. Meet me here. Sierra Tango Whiskey business."

She raised an eyebrow. "What time?"

I grinned. "You'll figure it out."

As we crossed the lobby, Aisha burst out, "I can't believe you're gonna make me go to school!"

"Hey," I told her. "Trust me. An education is something you should not miss out on."

"Says the security guard," she retorted.

"Hey," Grue told her, swatting her lightly on the head. "Respect the man who saved your life."

"Yeah, sorry," she mumbled. "But you aren't much of an example of higher education."

"I passed year twelve," I told her. "If I'd been better at studying, I'd probably be doing something different, more profitable. Or maybe not. It's all about giving yourself more opportunities. Slack off at school, your opportunities will probably boil down to 'do you want fries with that?'."

"Or, you know, being a kickass supervillain," she pointed out.

"Who knows shit-all about maths," I replied. "How are you at percentages and basic math?"

"Uh, not so great," she admitted.

I grinned. "Well, if you really want to be a kickass supervillain, it's easier with math skills. Just saying."

She wrinkled her nose. "But school … "

I shrugged heartlessly. "You want to get somewhere in life, you gotta put in the hard yards."

The guard opened the doors, and they trooped out; Grue paused to shake my hand. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. I look forward to seeing how you get on."

A nod, and he turned and strode out through the closing doors. As they slid shut, I heard Aisha's wail one more time.

"School … "


End of Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

 

[alethiophile]

Heh.

More Undersiders is fun. I'm amused by the talk with Lisa. The girl is a conversation unto herself, I swear.

Aisha is also amusing, in an infuriating kind of way. Watching Allen just kind of muscle everyone around is fun.

 

[Starfox5]

Good chapter. Love the cameo of sorts to your one-shot, and the dialogue. Aisha's a riot, and far more than a handful.

 

[Ack]

Good chapter. Love the cameo of sorts to your one-shot, and the dialogue. Aisha's a riot, and far more than a handful.

Click to shrink...

Yes, yes she is. (whenever she's around, people are running for cover)

And yes, the different solutions were taken in part from And Why the Hell Not?

 

[cyberswordsmen]

Regent would be perfect for prisoner transport/retrieval. Have him use his powers on captured parahumans likely to escape while they are in custody and if they break out he uses his power to find them and march them back into jail. The entire thing could be low key and out of the public eye.

 

[Prince Charon]

Regent would be perfect for prisoner transport/retrieval. Have him use his powers on captured parahumans likely to escape while they are in custody and if they break out he uses his power to find them and march them back into jail. The entire thing could be low key and out of the public eye.

Click to shrink...

It might be a while before the PRT trusts him that much, but it could become viable, eventually.

 

[alethiophile]

He's got a range of city-wide-ish, doesn't he? Depending on how many people's nervous systems he can memorize, that could be quite viable. Assuming as always, of course, that they'd trust him to do it.

 

[cyberswordsmen]

He's got a range of city-wide-ish, doesn't he? Depending on how many people's nervous systems he can memorize, that could be quite viable. Assuming as always, of course, that they'd trust him to do it.

Click to shrink...

Well if they were smart they would bring him to the prisoners and keep him in a separate city when he isn't supposed to be using his powers. An asset like him makes more sense as a mobile specialist going where he is needed than a local force.

 

[edale]

And yes, the different solutions were taken in part from And Why the Hell Not?

Click to shrink...

Wasn't Bitch running the city's only Dog Pound, and providing specialized training to dogs, part of one of Accord's plans in canon?

Also, Security! Where one unpowered man can walk into a room full of people with multidimensional physics breaking powers... and bully them all into doing what he wants.

 

[Ack]

Wasn't Bitch running the city's only Dog Pound, and providing specialized training to dogs, part of one of Accord's plans in canon?

Click to shrink...

Actually, that was part of Accord's plan as supplied in HCtBB

Also, Security! Where one unpowered man can walk into a room full of people with multidimensional physics breaking powers... and bully them all into doing what he wants.

Click to shrink...

Not 'bully'.

'Convince'.

 

[Ack]

Just so everyone knows: in the light of WoG stating that Dinah was taken from home, I have revised the attempted-kidnap-in-dropped-timeline scene in Security! chapter 19.

The altered text is below, for those who don't want to go looking:

In one potential timeline ...

The white van, anonymous and forgettable, moved purposefully through the streets of Brockton Bay. At one point, the driver stopped at a traffic light; a small blue car rocketed through the intersection in front of them.

"Hey, did that guy look familiar?" asked the driver.

"What guy?" asked the man next to him.

"The one in the blue car."

"What blue car?"

It was, of course, well out of sight by now. "Never mind."

"So what's the story with this kid we're grabbing?"

"No story. The boss wants her, we get her. She'll be at home. Probably upstairs in bed. Her mother will be the only other person there. We pull up, go into the house, grab her, and go. Nobody gets hurt; not her, not the mother."

"Do you ever feel like we're in the wrong line of business? I mean ... kidnapping kids? Really?"

"Yeah, sometimes. Then I get paid, and it all goes away."

" ... actually, you have a valid point."

Click to shrink...

In that same potential timeline …

The van pulled into a parking space, and the engine was switched off. The driver picked up a pair of binoculars. "That house up there. Front gate painted red."

"Got it," answered the passenger, lifting his own binoculars. "I don't see a car in the garage."

"That's because hubby took it to work," the driver noted. "One woman, one kid. Keep the woman quiet, grab the kid."

"Any idea why he wants her?"

This got him a warning look. "If you want to keep working for the boss, you don't ask those sorts of questions. You don't even think about asking them."

A long silence ensued. " … right. Okay. So, what's the plan here?"

The driver laid a paper plan out between the seats. The three men in the back of the van leaned forward to watch.

"One front, one back, on the outside. Two in. One stays downstairs to watch the mom, make sure she doesn't do something stupid, the other one goes upstairs to grab the kid."

"Uh, shouldn't there be more than one going upstairs?"

"It's a kid." The look was withering, this time. "If she was a cape, the boss would have sent capes. He sent us. It's just a kid. Here's a picture."

Each man looked at the image; a little blurry, but recognisable as a girl of about twelve or thirteen with straight brown hair.

"Now, here's the thing," the driver told them. "The mother does not get hurt. The kid does not get hurt. The boss would prefer one of you gets hurt before they do. Keep that in mind."

They mulled that over.

"... okay," the man in the passenger seat decided. "I'm good. When do we move?"

"When we get the signal that the diversions are going ahead. We want the Protectorate and PRT looking in the other direction when this happens."

The man in the passenger seat settled back and opened a paper bag. "Suits me." He unwrapped a sandwich and bit into it.

Click to shrink...

In that potential timeline ...

A mobile phone rang. The driver answered it. He listened, then spoke four words. "Target in sight. Proceeding."

Dropping the phone into its holder, he pulled a ski mask over his face and started the van. "Soon as I stop," he ordered. "Out and go."

The van sped down the street, then executed a U-turn that left it parked right next to the low fence outside the house in question. The side door slid open, and the three men jumped out. They also wore ski masks; they hurdled the fence and one man headed down alongside the house while the other two went for the front door. The man in the passenger seat, also masked up, got out and followed on, taking up a position just inside the front gate.

The front door crashed open, and the two men went in fast, assault rifles up and tracking. The mother emerged from the kitchen saw the men, saw the guns, shrieked and cowered. The assault rifle tracked her motion, but the men did not fire; they had more discipline than that. One man pointed to his comrade, then at the woman. Two fingers pointed at his eyes, then at her. You're on her. Watch her. There was a nod in reply.

Heavy boots thundered on stairs as the man took the steps two at a time. The floorplan had the girl's room marked out; he turned the handle and pushed the door open, his rifle pointed at the ceiling. The girl lying in bed wearing bright floral pyjamas, looked up in shock and surprise. She was the right age and had long brown hair; this had to be her. A comic book fell to the floor.

"Okay, kid, you're coming with us," he told her, striding across the room and reaching out to grab her by the arm.

"No," she told him. "I'm not."

"Don't be an idiot," he snapped, starting to wonder why she was so composed. And why it was taking so long to get across the room to her.

And then he stopped wondering anything at all, as Armsmaster's halberd caught him in the middle of the back, a jolt of electricity sending him into dreamland.

***​

"Please don't hurt me!" pleaded the mother. "I'm scared of guns!"

With a sigh, the mercenary pointed the rifle at the ceiling. "Look, see? Not pointed at you now. So calm down. No-one's getting hurt here."

He glanced at the stairs; had he heard a thump? When he looked back at the woman, she was much closer. He was also severely starting to doubt that she was the girl's mother.

Part of this was the dusky shade of her skin, which he had not noticed to begin with; to him, woman plus screaming equalled civilian. Another part was the large-calibre pistol that was pointed at his face from just over arms' length away; no grabbing the gun and disarming her. The final piece of the puzzle was the a flag-print scarf now covering the lower half of her face.

"Good to hear," Miss Militia told him, and thumbed back the hammer on her pistol. "Rifle down now please."

He very carefully put the rifle on the floor.

Behind him, a discarded child's backpack split open, and there were suddenly two more people in the living room. One blurred out of the room, en route to the back door, while the other stepped out through the front door.

***​

The man waiting at the back door was startled when he heard a tremendous bellow from the front of the house. Raising his rifle, he started toward the corner of the house. The back door opened, and he turned, only to be faced with Velocity. The Protectorate hero punched him seventeen times in four seconds, giving him no chance to defend himself; when he slumped to the ground, Velocity disarmed him and zip-tied his hands behind his back.

***​

Triumph was already drawing in a breath when he stepped out through the front doorway. The mercenary on the front path was looking outward, not inward; he began to turn, only to be caught in a blast of sound that smashed him clean over the low fence and into the side of the van.

The van revved its engine and began to pull away from the curb, tyres squealing. Armsmaster leaned out an upper window and levelled his halberd; a crackling bolt of energy struck the vehicle, and the engine abruptly died. It rolled to a halt, the driver's side door burst open, and the driver made a run for it.

He didn't make it more than four steps, as a fleeting form blurred past the van and clotheslined him neatly. Velocity looked down him, struggling to rise, and shook his head. "You'd think they'd learn."

Triumph stepped over the fence and began securing the man he'd hit with his shout. "People like this never learn." He tapped his radio earpiece. "All clear out here. How did it go inside?"[/I]

Miss Militia emerged from the house, prodding the mercenary ahead of her. "This one didn't give any trouble."

Behind her, Armsmaster followed on with Vista; she had her visor back in place, while he carried the last mercenary over his shoulder. "It all went according to plan."

"Yeah," Vista agreed. "Just wish that I'd been able to do more than be bait."

The scarf-clad hero reached back and ruffled her hair. "We couldn't have done it without you."

Velocity looked up from securing the driver. "Scared of guns? You? Really?"

Miss Militia shrugged. "Well, I had to say something."

***​

In one potential timeline, this happened. But in reality, of course, it didn't. When Coil got word that his kidnap attempt had failed, he dropped that timeline, and went with the one where he never made the attempt at all.

Vista, disguised as Dinah Alcott, lay in bed and read comic books while Armsmaster kept her company; Miss Militia maintained her role as Anna Alcott. The real Mrs Alcott and her daughter sat under secure PRT guard in the Protectorate base.

The backpack had been enlarged on the inside via Vista's powers so that it could hold two members of the Protectorate; they waited, watching for a sign that the kidnap was taking place, and played cards to pass the time. Vista never had a reason to relax her power over it, to allow them to burst forth as if appearing from nowhere.

But she was prepared to, and so the kidnap attempt never eventuated.

When the phone call came that the robbery had been foiled, they gave it another thirty minutes, then vacated the premises, locking up behind them.

In both timelines, of course, the bank robbery still took place.

Click to shrink...

 

[Ack]

Security!

Chapter Forty-Six: Recruitment Drive


Thursday, April 28, 2011

I slowed the pickup as I neared the rendezvous point; when I saw Kayden waving, I pulled over to the side of the road. Leaning across, I pulled up the plastic tab that unlocked the door; she opened it and got in.

"Hi," I greeted her. "Thanks for helping set this up. I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with it."

She wrinkled her nose. "Well, I'm not all that thrilled at the idea of a one-on-one with the man, but you did say that it was important."

"It's definitely important," I confirmed. "I could've gotten in touch with him through my own channels, but we're not on the best of terms, and I don't need to be any more behind the eight-ball than I already am." I put the vehicle into gear and pulled into traffic.

"So I hear." She smiled at me. "Legend told me an interesting story about a rooftop rescue."

"That happened, yeah," I sighed. "And there was an earlier meeting, at my place. I suspect he had Fog let him in. I kind of told him to leave, in no uncertain terms."

"I would've paid money to see that," she chuckled. "He doesn't often get told 'no'."

"I can understand. He's very … charismatic." I paused, as she kicked aside miscellaneous trash. "Excuse the mess. I don't often have passengers, so the footwell ends up as a rubbish bin."

"That's fine," she assured me. "I can still see the floor. I rode in Justin's car once; now, that was messy."

"Yeah, he always came across to me as a bit of a redneck," I agreed.

She said nothing in reply, but she did give me an odd look.

"What?" I asked.

"To the best of my knowledge, you've never met the man," she pointed out. "How did you know that about him?"

I shrugged. "Same way I knew it was a good idea to give you a heads-up when we took down Coil."

"That's not an answer," Kayden told me severely.

"I know," I replied cheerfully. "But things will become somewhat more clear in good time." I grinned at her. "So, how's things getting along between you and Aster and the guys?"

The smile that broke across her face was like the sun coming up. "She's getting bigger all the time. Legend and Arthur just adore her, and she loves them, too. And it's so nice -" She cut herself off.

"So nice ...?" I raised an eyebrow.

She took a deep breath. "So nice to be around men who aren't trying to control me, who are willing to let me be me."

"Well, yeah, that was the general idea," I admitted. "I've never actually met Arthur, but Legend's a really nice guy."

"He's been helping me settle in with the New York Protectorate," she agreed. "I'm pretty sure that some of them have figured out who I am, but I've had nothing but encouragement."

"Well, that's good to hear. Really good." I paused, as our destination came into view. "Talking about encouragement, are you sure you're okay with doing this? I mean, I figure I can go in alone if I need to."

"Uh huh." She looked me over, her eyes lingering on the dressing that I still wore on my forearm, legacy of my 'discussion' with Lung. "I'm told you have a habit of trying to go it alone. I think it's better all round if I go with you."

It didn't take me long to decide that she had the right of it. "Yeah," I agreed. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

Parking the pickup at the curb, I got out. Kayden did likewise; as I rounded the front end of the vehicle, we looked up toward the large house, set back just a little way from the road.

"This is the place, huh?"

She nodded in reply to my question. "This is where he said he'd meet us."

"Hmm." Last-minute doubts assailed me. "I'm just hoping he doesn't do something I'll regret."

A slight smile. "Relax. You'll be a guest. No harm will come to you."

I was more worried about the meeting going badly than harm coming to me, though not entirely so. The injuries I had gotten from Lung were healing nicely – Riley was good at what she did – but they were still a reminder of the fact that I was still mortal, could still be hurt. Could still be killed.

Which was apparently looming in my future, really soon, according to Dinah. Fuckin' yay.

Well, if it's gonna happen, may as well make it count.

I took a deep breath. "Let's go do this thing."

=//=//=​

The front door was on the large size, and even the doorbell was ornate enough to complement the decor. I pressed it; stately chimes sounded in the depths of the house. We waited.

Looking around, I managed to make out a discreet security camera dome under the eaves, and another toward the corner of the house. They were darkened, so that the cameras within could not be seen, but I had no doubt that we were under surveillance.

"Maybe I should try again?" I murmured.

"No." She shook her head. "If this is a power play on his part, and I wouldn't put it past him, then pressing again counts as a win in his book."

"So we wait?"

She nodded. "We wait."

We waited. The lawn was neatly kept; carefully-trimmed bushes here and there added a nice touch to the surroundings. I watched as butterflies flitted from one topiary piece to the next; here and there, other bugs buzzed or hummed or crept. Taylor, I decided, would kick ass here.

Not that she didn't kick ass anywhere she went. Especially with her new best friend to supply her with bugs in varieties never before found in nature. For a moment, my mind wandered, imagining her as a time traveller. Oh god, I can just imagine her in the Carboniferous, with those monster bugs. She'd own the place.

The door lock clicked, disturbing my thoughts, and I snapped back to the here and now. It opened silently, without even a squeak from the hinges; that took, I decided, a certain amount of dedicated maintenance. I gestured for Kayden to precede me; she stepped forward.

"James," she greeted the man who had opened the door; he was broad-shouldered, a little shorter than me.

"Kayden," he replied evenly, then glanced at me.

"He's here to speak to Max," she told him.

"He's PRT," he stated with a frown.

I shook my head. "I'm actually not."

For the first time, he addressed me. "You were working with them to take down the last of the ABB and the Merchants."

Now, I wonder where he gets his information from. It was something that I'd have to look into.

"I've worked with them yes," I agreed. "But I'm not with them. They have trouble with the way that I ignore rules I don't like. In any case, what I'm here about is a lot more important than some petty hero-villain squabble."

This raised a frown, but he nodded slightly. "Come in." His voice was less than welcoming, but I didn't care; it was better than being turned away.

"Thank you." I stepped inside and held out my hand. "Mike Allen."

It would have been blatantly rude for him to ignore me, so he shook it. "James Fleischer." His grip was firm; I decided that he must work out, but not all that regularly.

"Kreig," I noted, although I'd guessed at his identity earlier. "You're the kinetic."

His lips compressed, and I realised, a little late, that Coil's fuck-you present had probably left him more than a little annoyed. Casually noting his secret identity would not have scored me any points with him.

"If you say so," he growled, keeping himself under control. "Max is through here."

"Just so you know," I commented, trying to recover some lost ground, "I knew your identity before Coil let it slip."

"And that's supposed to make me feel happier?" It obviously hadn't.

"I didn't out you. And I wouldn't have." I tried to make the point without obviously trying to make the point; harder than it seems.

It seemed to me that the set of his shoulders relaxed slightly, though I could easily have been mistaken. I didn't get the chance to follow up on it, because at that moment I entered the presence of the man called Kaiser for the third time.

=//=//=​

He was holding a cut-glass tumbler of alcohol; I could smell what seemed to be high-quality whiskey, though I couldn't be sure. As we entered, he emptied the glass and placed it on a side table, without offering one to either of us. The insult, I figured, was calculated and aimed at the both of us. Not that it bothered me all that much; I don't drink, and even if I did, I would have felt more comfortable drinking in the presence of a redback spider, or a western desert taipan.

"Kayden," he greeted my companion. "How nice to see you again."

"Max," she responded. "I see you're still as pleasant as ever." As full of crap as ever, I deciphered without too much trouble.

As with his insult to me, hers rolled off of his back, as of metaphorical water off of an equally metaphorical duck. "And I see that you've brought the ever … interesting Mr Allen with you. Are you spending time with him these days?"

The tone indicated his real meaning; in not so many words, he had just asked her if we were sleeping together, and managed to make it sound dirty.

"No, he's merely a friend," she responded. "A real friend." Unlike, her tone implied, anyone else here.

I took the opportunity to glance around the room, at the company Kaiser had chosen to witness this meeting. The twins sat demurely, sharing a love-seat; they turned identical, coolly appraising, gazes upon me. Hookwolf sneered at me from where he leaned against the wall near Cricket; the latter had shed her facial cage for the moment, and looked curiously vulnerable. Looks, I knew, could be deceiving; I took care not to stare at her visible scars.

Night and Fog were not present; I presumed that Kaiser had specially requested their presence for the meeting in my flat. Neither was Crusader or Rune; I presumed that the teenager was at school somewhere. However, Alabaster was attending, as was Stormtiger. Nobody was masked up, which indicated either the presence of quite a bit of self-confidence, or a singular lack of caring. Or perhaps both.

"I can see that you've fallen on hard times, Kayden," Kaiser addressed her smoothly, apparently untouched by the barb. A tightening around the eyes, however, suggested that he was holding his temper in what seemed to be an iron grip. Pun intended, I decided with inner amusement. "You know that you can always come back to the Empire. Run it at my side."

So reasonable was his tone that I half expected her to agree, to walk to his side. Almost, I would have encouraged her in 'the right thing to do', if I hadn't known what Kaiser was like. The man, I decided, was even more charismatic than I recalled. And his powers weren't the only dangerous thing about him.

She smiled blandly back at him. "Not right now, Max. I think I'll keep my options open." Which translated in my mind as Not a hope in hell, you slimy bastard. Or some close approximation thereof.

The initial pleasantries dispensed with, Kaiser turned to me. "We meet again – Security."

"We do indeed, Mr Anders," I agreed, deliberately using his real name. Firmly suppressing the part of me that wanted to continue with It appears that you've been living two lives – I really wasn't sure that he'd find it funny, even if he got the joke – I held out my hand. "Thank you for agreeing to this meeting."

He shook it, exerting his grip in the age-old dominance ritual. I matched him grip for grip; I didn't feel like humiliating him just yet, but nor was I going to knuckle under to him. This also told me that he hadn't heard, or didn't believe, the news regarding Riley's upgrade. His expression did not change the whole time; if he found my grip exceptional, he never showed it.

"You did ask politely," he pointed out once the contest had ended in a draw, "and you sent the invitation through Kayden. It would have been churlish of me to refuse."

"Well, you've reached out to me twice," I noted. "It was kind of my turn."

Kaiser and I both knew that 'reached out' was a very restrained way to put it; the first time, he had been waiting for me in my flat. The second, he'd had me 'escorted' to him, without much choice in the matter.

This time, I had come to him. Third time lucky, I mused. Lucky for whom, I wonder?

"Each of the other times," he observed, "you were not particularly friendly."

"Are you really surprised?" I asked rhetorically. "I still don't like you. But like you, I'm a pragmatist. I'm not about to let the way you do business get in the way of what needs doing."

His gaze on my face sharpened. "I seem to recall that the last time we spoke, you casually mentioned 'saving the world', as it it were your own pet, personal project."

"I did, and it is," I agreed. "Oh, it's being attempted by other parties, but they were quite literally flailing around in the dark. You could say that I added some illumination to the matter."

His lips tightened. "You do not strike me as the sort of person to be setting out to save the world." Translation: I think you're trying to bullshit me.

"Maybe you're not looking hard enough." I looked around the room. "When we last spoke, I mentioned several members of the Empire. Do you recall who they were?"

Kaiser tilted his head slightly. "Myself, Menja and Fenja, Rune, Hookwolf, Othala and Victor."

I nodded. "Good memory."

"It helps in business. Why those names? Why not anyone else?"

"Oh, others can attend if they want," I assured him. "Crusader could probably be added to the list. Maybe Fog, but not Night. Primarily, I want the big hitters. The ones who can land a hit, take a hit, or do something else that's useful in a massive knock-down drag-out fight against a single, highly mobile, devastatingly dangerous opponent."

There was silence in the room as my words sank in. Hookwolf straightened from his posture against the wall, but no-one else moved.

"You want to recruit the Empire for this?" Kaiser's voice was borderline incredulous.

"No." Mine was hard, flat. "I want to recruit everyone." I tapped the dressing on my arm. "This was me convincing Lung that I was serious."

"Lung." The voice came from behind me; Kreig. "You fought Lung and survived?"

"Twice, actually." I turned to face him. "I'm not playing around here. I'm here to issue an invitation to a meeting. Anyone who doesn't think they've got anything to bring to an Endbringer battle, don't bother showing up. The names I gave? They're specifically invited."

"And the rest of us aren't?"

I sighed. "If you want to show up, you can. You will be required to maintain absolute secrecy about what happens there. I'm not bullshitting here; if any of you go with the intent to break it wide open for shits and giggles, you won't be walking out again."

"And Purity? She's invited, too?" asked Kaiser. Kayden bridled.

"Evenstar is definitely invited, yes," I informed him.

"Who else will be there?" asked Kreig.

I resisted the impulse to roll my eyes. "People who need to know about the situation. People who can help win the coming war. So trust me, if you front up to the table, and you have a problem with anyone else there, they're not the ones who are gonna have to step back."

"You've referred to this as a 'war', Mr Allen," Kaiser noted slowly. "You've also given the impression that whatever this fight is against, it's either an Endbringer or the equivalent. But there's been no Endbringer emergence anywhere in the world. More to the point, when we first spoke, you made a comment to the effect that Leviathan had been due to strike here, but that you had taken steps to prevent it."

"All true," I agreed. "Though I misspoke when I said it was Menja who was going to die." I glanced over at the twins on the love seat. "Sorry, it was Fenja. My bad."

One of them came to her feet, a fast and fluid move. "Did you just threaten me?"

"No." My voice was flat. "I just told you that you're off the hook. Just like your boss and Alabaster."

Alabaster's head came up. "You're saying I was going to die, but now I'm not? How?"

"Long story short, time bubble grenade. You end up sharing eternity with Dauntless and Jotun."

"So, not dead."

"Close enough. No-one ever really figures out a way to get you out of it."

He grimaced. "Christ."

"We're getting off point here," Kaiser noted, his voice just a little sharp. "Mr Allen says that it's not going to happen any more; even if Leviathan does attack -" I got the impression that he was dubious about that, for obvious reasons, "- we should be able to avoid our so-called predestined fates." He paused and took a breath. "What we should be focusing on is the current matter."

Hookwolf took a step forward. "Who we gonna fight?"

"That'll come up at the meeting," I told him. I looked at each of them in turn. "You know who's invited. Anyone else who wants to turn up is free to do so. Nobody talks about what goes on in the meeting. Not to anyone, ever. Is that absolutely understood?"

"I don't like being told what to do by some fat old security guard. Is that absolutely understood?" Hookwolf's voice was mocking; he showed his teeth, took a few steps closer. "And Legend ain't here to save your ass, now."

The light in the room started to change; Kayden had started to glow. "No. But I am."

He looked past me, shading his eyes. "You wouldn't attack me to help him."

"Try me." Her voice was flat.

"Kayden. Evenstar. Thanks, but we're good here." I took a step toward Hookwolf. "You really, really don't want to go there, Brad."

"Don't tell me what to do, fat man." He stepped toward me; I tensed. But then a fence of spikes shot up between us.

"He's not telling you what to do, Hookwolf." Kaiser's voice was hard. "I am."

I took a breath, reined in the combat mods that were starting to take over. Forced the aggressiveness back into its box. Behind me, the light levels dropped again as Kayden restrained her power.

"Despite our feelings on the matter, Mr Allen is a guest." Kaiser's voice was calm, over an undercurrent of anger. "We treat him as such. And until further notice, we treat what he is saying as deadly serious."

Keeping half an eye on Hookwolf, just in case, I turned toward him. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"I didn't say it for your sake." He lifted his chin slightly. "Tell me, right now, to my face, that this meeting is not a trap, and I will attend, with my people."

"It's not a trap." My gaze was steady on his; after a long moment, he nodded curtly.

"When and where?"

I nodded in return. "PRT building, tomorrow evening, seven o'clock."

Everyone except Kayden reacted to that; even Kaiser's eyes narrowed.

"Mr Allen. You still say that this is not a trap?"

"No." I was working hard to stay patient. "It's not a trap."

His gaze bored into mine; around the room, I felt rather than heard the other members of the Empire Eighty-Eight shifting restlessly. I wanted to look, to make sure that no-one was getting too close, but nor did I want to make it appear as though I was backing down from Kaiser.

After a long, long moment, he nodded again, abruptly. "We will be there."

"Good." I inclined my head briefly. "I'll see you there." Turning, I nodded to Kayden. "We're done here. Let's go."

She didn't say a word, merely fell into step with me. We were halfway down the entrance hall when Kaiser's voice cut through the air. "Purity."

She didn't react, kept walking.

"Kayden."

She paused in her steady stride; I stopped also, as she turned her head. "What?"

"I forgot to ask; how is our daughter?"

"Aster is doing fine," she stated flatly. "She's safe and she's well, and she's being cared for."

"Good." His voice was faintly mocking. "You know, one day, she's going to ask who her father is."

"I'll tell her that you're dead. And hopefully, by that time, it'll be true." She turned again and strode toward the front door; I followed suit.

=//=//=​

By the time we got to the pickup, she was shaking; I opened the door for her, and she got in without question. I was hurrying to get into my side; not because I was worried about them coming out, but because I wasn't sure that Kayden wouldn't decide to go back in, all guns blazing. Or that I was absolutely sure that I'd try to stop her.

We drove away, down the street; Kayden had her hands clenched in her lap, and she was shaking all over. A couple of blocks away, I pulled over and stopped. "You okay?"

"Yes. No." Her head was bowed, and she was beginning to glow. "Christ, I don't know. Fuck!"

The expletive was accompanied by a brilliant flash of light that blinded me for a few seconds; when I could see again, she was back to normal, but bent over with her forehead resting on the dashboard.

"You okay now?" I asked gently.

Sitting up, she turned to me, her eyes wet with tears. "That man makes me so angry. He's so certain he's right, all the time. And he knows just what to say to hurt me."

"Hey. Hey hey hey." I put my hand on her shoulder, the best I could go toward a hug in the cramped confines of the vehicle. "The man is a comprehensive dick. And I know dicks." I paused. "Yeah, that came out wrong."

Despite herself, she giggled damply. "Yes, yes it did."

"Kaiser's just trying to screw with your head," I assured her. "That's because he can feel that his previous hold over you is just about gone. And he doesn't like losing control over anything."

"Doesn't help," she mumbled. "He had ten years to work on me. Ten years to learn all my buttons. It took me nearly all of my pregnancy with Aster to work up the nerve to actually break with him."

"Hey, it's a work in progress." I squeezed her shoulder. "You'll get there."

"I hope so." She sniffled. "Great, and I don't have a tissue."

"In the glove box. I have an emergency stash."

She opened the glove box and located the somewhat-bedraggled flat box of tissues that I generally carried in there. Pulling a couple out, she blew her nose noisily. "Thank you."

"Eh, keep 'em," I offered. "I can get more, and that box is nearly out."

"Thank you," she repeated, and tucked the box into her handbag. "I appreciate it."

"And I appreciate you coming in with me."

"Well, I wasn't about to let you walk in there alone," she pointed out.

"Still, it can't have been easy."

"No, it wasn't." She took a deep breath, and got the tissues out again. This time, she dabbed at her eyes before blowing her nose for a second time. "Okay, I think I'm good now."

"Excellent." I gave her my best encouraging smile. "Now, you know what I think you should do?"

"Oh, great," she muttered. "Another man who wants to tell me what to do." But she was smiling.

"Exactly." I beamed at her. "I think you should go back to New York and cuddle Aster. Spend time with the people in your life who really matter. And then, you know, come back to attend the meeting tomorrow night. What do you think? Good plan of action?"

She considered it. "I think it's definitely workable," she conceded. "Especially the 'cuddle Aster' bit."

"Yeah, I though you might like that bit," I agreed.

"You should come down to visit sometime," she urged me suddenly. "I'm sure that Legend and Arthur would love to have you."

"I'd like to," I replied slowly, "but I've got a lot of demands on my time right now. I really don't know when I can get away. Time is kind of at a premium for me."

"No arguments," she told me firmly. "You're coming to visit."

"Yes, ma'am," I agreed meekly. "I'll make time."

"Better." She smiled, more naturally this time. "It'll be nice."

We got out of the pickup; I went around the front of the vehicle to stand next to her on the pavement. "So, see you tomorrow night?"

"See you then." Unexpectedly, she hugged me. Of course, I hugged her back. "And thanks."

"I should be thanking you." Momentarily, she leaned her head on my shoulder. "You've done so much."

"All in the name of saving the world. And you and Aster too, of course." I made my tone light.

Pulling back, she searched my face. "You were serious then, about what you said about saving the world? And a war?"

"Serious as serious can be. I'll be talking about it at the meeting."

"I'll be there." Reaching up, she planted a kiss on my cheek, and then began to glow.

I shielded my eyes just in time; when I uncovered them, there was just a fading trail of light in the sky, heading south. Getting back into the pickup, I started the engine and drove off. I had places to go and people to see.

=//=//=​

The door buzzer went; L33t looked up from his workbench. "That was fast," he called over his shoulder. "Did you forget something?"

"Nope." He froze for a moment; the voice was both unfamiliar and amused. "You're right here."

Slowly, he turned, pushing up the magnifier goggles. "Who the fuck are you?" Behind him, he began to stealthily scrabble through the detritus on the bench for his shock pistol.

The man standing before him had a salt-and-pepper beard that was given over mainly to salt. His hair – a lot of grey there as well, and receding over the temples – was very closely cut. Apart from that, the guy was bulky as hell; a little taller than L33t, he outweighed him two or three times over, easily. His beard and eyebrows were just a little patchy, and he wore a dressing on his right forearm.

"Huh," mused the interloper. "You're skinnier than I pictured you."

That threw L33t off for a moment, so much so that when he found his hand closing over the grip of the shock pistol, he didn't realise for a second what it was that he was holding. Then he grabbed it tightly and swung it around, to point directly into the intruder's face.

"Okay!" he shouted. "Enough bullshit! Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in my workshop?"

"The name's Security," was the reply. "I don't know if you've heard of me yet, but ..."

L33t stared. This was the guy who had apparently fucked up Lung and Coil? And, if rumour had it right, Bakuda and Oni Lee as well? All of a sudden, he wasn't sure if he wanted to keep pointing the pistol at the guy's face.

"So what do you want with me?" he asked, trying for a harsh tone. Even to his own ears, it came out a little whiny. "And how did you get in here? I've got the workshop door set on a rotating password system."

"You really ought to invest in biometrics," the man called Security observed. He held out a piece of paper; L33t took it. On it was a series of words and phrases, mated to a series of timestamps. With a shock, he realised that those were his passwords, and the times they were due to roll over.

"But ... but," he sputtered. "Where did you get this?"

"A scarily competent woman in a business suit gave it to me," replied the intruder, still apparently unconcerned that he had L33t's shock pistol pointed at his face. "As for why I'm here ... well, I know it's a cliche, but I need you to help me save the world."

"No. No. This is bullshit." L33t wasn't exactly sure why the words made him so angry. "Now you're just fucking with me."

"No, I'm really not."

L33t glared. "No-one says that shit to me. This is just some big joke to you, isn't it?"

"Hey. L33t. It's not a joke." Security's voice was carefully calm. "I'm not bullshitting you. I actually do need you to -"

L33t would never be quite sure if his finger actually twitched on the trigger, or if the shock pistol just decided to go off on its own. Or rather, decided to try to go off. There was a sharp crack, and pieces sprayed everywhere; the backblast knocked him off his chair and on to the ground. To add insult to injury, the intruder was still standing there, not knocked to the ground as intended.

"Fuck," groaned L33t. "Fuck fuck fuuuuck." He shook his hand vigorously, trying to get feeling back into it.

"Could've told you that was going to happen." The big man reached down, offering a helping hand. L33t grabbed it with his left hand, and was hoisted to his feet. "You built something too close to that about six months ago."

"What - ?"

A broad finger tapped the paper. L33t looked at it, then turned it over.

"His gun will explode," he read. "He built something like it six months ago."

He looked from the paper to the big man in growing incomprehension. "What the living goddamn fuck is going on here? How are you doing this shit?"

"It would take far too long to explain, and longer again to convince you that I'm not smoking finest Merchant product," explained Security. "Suffice to say that we need your talents to help save the world. If you can refrain from blowing yourself up first, that is."

"Not my fault," mumbled L33t. "Fucking power restrictions."

"Actually, about that," Security noted. "I've got something for you to think about. Three things."

"What?" grumbled L33t, picking up his chair and settling himself on to it. His hand was starting to ache.

"First. Powers are caused by conflict, and work better when used for conflict."

L33t blinked. "I … yeah, that kind of makes sense."

A nod. "Second. The things that cause powers are kind of alive and kind of intelligent."

"Wait, what the fuck? My powers are alive? No fucking way."

It was as if the man had not heard him. "Third. Your power hates you because you're too careful, too cautious. It is actually trying to kill you."

L33t's jaw dropped. The idea was ludicrous, ridiculous. But … so many times, when he was sure that he'd calculated the tolerances right, he'd still gotten a failure. Too many times, too many close calls. All too often, he'd muttered that something out there must hate him, with the number of bizarre equipment failures he had suffered.

He'd just never considered that it could be his own powers that were setting him up to fail.

But no. It couldn't be. The man was just messing with his head. He had to be.

It was just too whacked. Too unbelievable.

… just impossible enough to be true.

"Hey. Earth to L33t."

L33t jerked out of his reverie, looked around. The man called Security wasn't there, anywhere in the workshop. The door was open, and Über's familiar face was peering at him. " … you okay?"

"Oh, I, uh, yeah," he blurted. He paused. "Uh, you see anyone leaving just now?"

Über frowned. "No," he replied. "Should I have? Was someone else here?" He paused. "What's that?"

L33t looked around; there was a white envelope leaning against the test stand. He picked it up, opened the flap. Inside, he found a single 3x5 file card. On it, in a rounded hand, were written four lines;

PRT Building.

Friday, seven PM.

You'll learn more then.

Don't be late.​

Über peered at the card. "What the fuck, dude? What's that about?"

L33t shook his head. "I have no idea. No idea at all."

But he knew, deep down, that he wouldn't be able to stay away.

=//=//=​

I studied the last piece of paper that Contessa had left for me with a certain amount of trepidation. This is going to be a tricky one. Hopefully, Contessa would be backing me up, but I'd never know unless I screwed up.

Standing up from my couch, I headed into the kitchenette to get a drink of water, the nervous energy making my movements jerky. L33t had been easy to deal with; sure, he'd tried to shoot me, but either Contessa had sabotaged his gun, or his power had. Either way, I'd come out of it unscathed. This next one … this would be the interesting one. I looked at the sheet again.

Cody has made his way to Madison. He is currently stalking the others.

"Great," I muttered. "Just what I needed." I raised my eyes to the ceiling. "This is you getting back at me for screwing you around, isn't it?"

There was no answer; I hadn't expected one, but then, Contessa was probably elsewhere, doing something important.

For about the tenth time, I re-read the instructions, folded the paper, and stuck it in my pocket. Then I cleared my throat. "Door to Cody."

=//=//=​

And there they were. Krouse and Noelle. Getting off the bus, walking side by side down the street. Heading for the apartment that they'd rented. He'd forgotten how good Noelle looked, walking. Even with legs she'd only had for two weeks – had it been that little time? - she was striding along, head up, hair blowing a little in the breeze.

Cody shifted a little in the alleyway that he was leaning against, bringing a brown paper bag up to his face, pretending to drink from the empty bottle within. It had not been hard to figure out where the rest of the Travellers had gotten to; after he got from Brockton Bay – even on Earth Aleph, it was still a shithole – to Madison, it had not taken him too much time to track them down.

Krouse and Noelle had their little love nest; Marissa and Oliver were also sharing an apartment, though as far as Cody knew, that was just as roomies. Jess had been reunited with her parents, and Luke had apparently hung out his shingle as "Ballistic – cape for hire".

Everyone's forgotten me. Which is just the way I like it.

He wasn't quite sure what kind of revenge he was going to pull on them, but it was gonna be pretty spectacular, given that they'd turned him over to that white-haired fuck, who sold him on to the fucking Chinese. And all for trying to fix their problem.

It shouldn't be too hard to acquire a handgun -

"Cody."

The voice came from behind him, which was patently impossible; the alley was ten yards deep, ending in a brick wall. But it was also just a bit familiar. The more he thought about it, the more he was certain that he'd heard it before. Not that he was taking the time to think.

Spinning around, he saw the guy stepping through the portal. Taking half a second to change his grip on the bottle, he swung it overhand, toward the guy's head. Halfway through the swing, he thought he recognised the guy, but he kept swinging anyway.

It didn't really matter; demonstrating some pretty effective reflexes, the guy brought up a hand and caught his wrist.

Crap. Lucky catch. It has to be.

The guy kept moving, twisting his wrist, turning him around. He fought to keep hold of the bottle, felt himself losing his grip on it -

Rewinding the guy just a few seconds, he turned around and stepped back, still holding the bottle. The doorway was there in mid-air; he could see an apartment beyond, anomalous against the squalor of the trash-filled alley. The guy was just stepping through. Cody threw the bottle.

The guy caught it on the fly.

No-one's that fucking lucky.

He rewound the guy's personal timeline again; the bottle dropped to the ground from where the guy no longer held it. This time, he pulled the knife that was sheathed at the back of his belt, under his jacket. This Madison, in this universe, was a lot more gentle than Brockton Bay in Earth Bet, but old habits died extremely hard.

Even as the guy stepped through, he lunged forward. The guy saw the knife and acted, all in the same instant. He moved forward faster than anyone that big had a right to move, slapped aside Cody's stab, and twisted his wrist; the pain went straight up Cody's arm.

He rewound the guy again before he could drop the knife; this time, as the guy stepped through, he brought his hand to his side, the knife held up against his wrist, out of view. "Cody," stated the guy. "Remember me?"

"Yeah, I remember you," Cody told him warily. "You're the bastard who sent me to Brockton Bay, while everyone else got to go home to Madison."

"I'm also the bastard who pulled you out of a dormitory in China," the guy reminded him. "Or would you rather be back there now?"

"Fuck that." Cody's face twisted. "What do you want with me now?"

"Offer you a job."

Cody paused, blinking. "A what now?"

"A job. You know doing things for money."

"You want me to work for you?"

"Not me." The big guy shook his head. "Some other people. I'm just here to make the offer. You get free room and board, free travel, and a thousand a day, in the hand."

"You're shitting me."

"No. I'm really not. This is a one-time offer, Cody. We need you, but you're not absolutely essential. You've got one hour to decide." He ostentatiously checked a bulky watch on his wrist.

"And if I say no?"

A massive shrug. "I walk away. You never see me again. You never get this offer again. And when the world ends, you get the satisfaction of knowing that you weren't out there fighting, so it's not your fault that we lost."

"Wait, what, when the world ends?"

"Well, I'm not here looking to hire you because of your looks. Six to twelve months, the world is ending. You agree to take this job, you get to be there and help out and maybe avert it."

"Can I think about it?"

"Like I said, one hour. Then the train leaves the station."

" … I still want to think about it."

"Fine." Another shrug. "I'll find you in one hour."

"I … right." I'm gonna have to hurry things up. Get to Krouse's place ...

The big guy took a few steps away. "Door to Trickster's apartment." Beyond him, the portal opened, showing another apartment.

Trickster? The fuck?

"Hey, wait!"

The big guy looked over his shoulder. "What?"

"You're getting Trickster in on this?"

"Well, yeah. Did you think you were the only member of the Travellers that I was interested in recruiting?" He took a step away from the portal, toward Cody. "Maybe I should have mentioned that they get a recruitment deal as well. That I'll be taking them away from Earth Aleph. You'll never get to catch up to them."

His revenge was slipping through his grasp. "No. No. You can't do this."

"Sure I can." The guy shrugged again. "It's easy."

"Wait. I'll – I'll join."

"And you'll drop any and all chance of revenge?"

His mouth opened, then closed again. "I – yes."

He was slammed against the wall, one large hand on his chest, the other catching his knife hand as he tried to bring it up, to stab or slash. Strong fingers squeezed his wrist till the bones ground together; the pain was excruciating.

"I think you're lying."

He rewound the guy, three seconds.

"- revenge?"

"Yes." He was stepping forward from the wall, bringing the knife up as he spoke; the pain from the previous grip made him clumsy, but it probably wouldn't have mattered. His hand was caught and then he was slammed back into the wall. The pain had barely started before the knife dropped from numbed fingers. "I think you're just looking to get close -"

He rewound the guy again. His knife was on the ground. He was leaning against the wall.

"- revenge?"

He took a deep breath. "I don't know," he admitted honestly. "It's all I've lived for, these last two weeks. Longer."

The guy sighed. "You do realise, it's the Simurgh who's pulling your strings on this one? That she set it up so you've got this hate-on for Trickster and Noelle?"

Cody shrugged. "I guessed as much. But they still screwed me over. They owe me."

"Dude. You messed up the meeting with Accord and nearly got Marissa killed. They had very little choice in what they did."

His voice rose. "We could've left town! We could've told Accord to go fuck himself! Instead, they handed me over to him! For all they knew, he was gonna kill me!"

"Hey, I'm not saying it was the right thing to do," the guy told him. "But it wasn't like they could trust you not to do it again, either. You got bystanders killed that day."

"I was trying to solve the problem. You got a problem with that?"

"I do if you keep trying and you keep failing, and getting people killed." The guy raised an eyebrow. "Okay, Trickster and Noelle aside, there's still a huge problem coming down the pike. I want to know if you're in or out."

He thought about it. "Can I at least go back to Earth Bet and kick the guts out of that white-haired fuck Accord?"

"Ooh, sorry." A grimace. "He's in on this, too."

"Fuck that! No fucking way! That motherfucker sold me to the fucking Chinese!"

"Cody. Listen to me. Do you want Accord dead, or suffering?"

"What?" Cody looked at the guy. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. I can't let you kill him. But I can pretty well guarantee his suffering."

"How do you mean?"

The guy grinned, just slightly. "Did you ever meet Tattletale?"

"Uh, no."

"Hm." A wry expression. "She's a stereotypical smartarse. Her power is super-intuition. She's absolutely got to be the smartest person in the room, and she needles anyone who she thinks might think otherwise. She's really, really good at it."

"And what's this got to do with … oh."

"'Oh' is right." The grin was back. "Accord has to work with her. And you know what he's like."

Cody blinked. "Ah. Right."

"Trust me, he will suffer. But he'll have a vested interest in not killing her, so he'll have to just bear it."

"Just like I've got to do with Trickster and Noelle and him."

"Yeah, but you don't have to be in the same room with the people you hate. He does."

"Huh." A grimace. "I don't like it, but … I guess."

"Okay. Just be aware that you will be noted as a security risk to both of them. You won't be left unattended with either one."

A plan started forming at the back of his mind. "Can I still have that hour to think about it?"

"Sure. I'll catch up with you then."

"Uh, I could just come with, let you know when I come to a decision."

"When I'm just about to go and talk with Trickster and Noelle." The sarcasm was obvious.

"Uh, yes?" Yeah, that wasn't at all suspicious.

"I know your history with those two." A chuckle. "I'm not stupid enough to trust you near them yet."

"Oh." Dammit.

"So, are you actually in, or not?"

"I, uh … I want to think about this for a bit longer."

"I'm not going to open a door to them any time you're near," the guy warned him. "So piss off, and I'll come find you in an hour."

Oh well, it was worth a try.

"Yeah, an hour should do," he muttered. "I'll let you know then."

"I'll catch you then." The guy waved. "Bye."

The dismissal was obvious; he turned and trudged from the alleyway. As soon as the guy was gone, he'd double back and grab the knife.

Fuck. What do I do now?

=//=//=​

I knocked on the door of the apartment jointly rented by Noelle Meinhardt and Francis Krouse. Personally, I would have preferred to have been waiting for them when they got back, but my discussion with Cody had wasted time. Plus, I'd had to clean my boots.

After a few moments, the door opened, and I came face to face with Noelle. A little shorter than me, she had strong features and straight brown hair. She stared at me, obviously not recognising my face.

"Uh, can I help you?" she asked.

"Who is it, hon?" I heard from behind her.

"You might not remember me," I told her. "Mike Allen? Security? I helped get you here."

She remembered now, I could tell; her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "Holy shit. Come in, come in."

I took her up on the invitation, just as Trickster entered the room from what was probably the kitchen. He was out of costume, of course; his swarthy features seemed to be more filled out, the hook nose less prominent. Civilian life seemed to agree with him.

"Wait, I know you," he declared. "You were that guy with the PRT. The one who -"

"- who helped me, yes," Noelle filled in. "What are you doing here? How did you even get here?" A moment later, she slapped herself on the forehead. "Duh. The same way you got us here."

"Exactly correct," I agreed. "So, how's life been since you got back?"

"A little fraught, at first," Krouse told me. "They wanted to know where we'd been for the last year and a half."

"So we wove them a tale of daring escapes from the authorities and keeping our heads down, until we could find a way back," supplied Noelle. "Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee?"

"Beer?" added Krouse.

"Uh, cold water, if you've got it," I demurred. "Not much of a beverage drinker."

"Pretty sure we've got that," Noelle assured me. "I'll be back in a second."

Krouse stepped up and shook my hand. "It's good to see you. What are you here for? Checking up to see how we're doing? Have a seat?" He gestured to the sofa.

"Kind of," I agreed, sitting down. "Ah, thanks," I added, as Noelle emerged from the kitchen with a glass of water.

"What do you mean, 'kind of'?" asked Krouse. "How have things been going since we left?"

I drank down about half the cup. "Ahh, that's nice. Well, the place has been settling down a bit. After Coil went down, and Kaiser outed me to the villain population, Bakuda took a run at me." Reflexively, I scratched the scar on the side of my neck.

Krouse fetched cookies, and they sat down, asking more questions. I filled them in on most of what had happened, glossing over the heart attack and my subsequent upgrade at Riley's hands.

"Sounds like you've been having your adventures, too," Noelle observed, when I had brought them more or less up to date. "But you never told us why you're here."

"Is this about that job offer you said we might get?" asked Krouse. "Because it hasn't come yet."

"Well, it was originally going to be a couple of years down the track," I admitted. "When the deadline got a little closer."

"Deadline for what?" asked Noelle, alert now.

"So what's changed?" Krouse queried, at almost exactly the same time.

"One at a time," I replied. "Ladies first; the deadline has to do with a battle breaking out that has the potential to end the world. It was originally fourteen to sixteen years in the future. Now, it's six to twelve months away."

"The world?" That was Krouse. "You mean Earth Bet?"

"To start with, yeah," I agreed. "But it doesn't stop there. Not by a long shot."

Noelle's hand sought out Krouse's. "So why the sudden change?"

I grimaced. "I think I might have had something to do with it. See, I knew it was coming all along. I've been setting in motion plans that were ultimately intended to have us ready for it, when the time came."

"And something went wrong." That was Krouse.

"Yeah." My voice was sour. "Here I am, doing my best to save the damn world, and something I do, or set in motion, sets off the apocalypse early. Fuckin' joy."

"But how do you know it'll happen earlier?" asked Noelle. "Are you a precog or something?"

"Nope." I took a drink from the latest glass of water. "But I've got one on speed-dial."

"So what can we do?" Krouse looked concerned. "I'm not much good against world-ending menaces."

"And I don't even have powers any more," added Noelle. "Not that my powers would have been any help at all, under the circumstances."

"I dunno," mused Krouse. "If you'd managed to clone someone like Jack Slash, he might've turned out all sweetness and light."

I shivered. "I doubt that. If she'd encountered Crawler, that would have been an extinction event for the city, so I can't see a clone of Jack Slash being any better."

Noelle peered at me. "How do you know that?"

"I just do," I told her. "But both of you can help, if you so wish."

"Uh, I get it that Francis is still powered," Noelle replied, "but what can I do?"

"Hell, I can't see that I'd be any more useful," Krouse agreed. "High-powered I'm not."

I pointed at Noelle. "Strategy and tactics. We'll be teaming you with Tattletale, Accord and Dragon. They'll be making it up as they go along, or using powers to fill in for intellect. I want someone at the table who's actually good at it without powers."

"Okay, I can see that," Krouse noted. "But what about me? Swapping full coffee cups for empty ones?"

"Hardly," I told him. "Battlefield support. If a big hitter can't disengage, it'll be up to you to help out."

"Huh." He tilted his head to one side. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Good." I leaned back. "Would you be able to do me a favour, and get hold of Jess and Luke for me? I need to talk to them as well."

=//=//=​

"Jess, phone for you."

"Oh, uh, thanks, Mom." Jess wheeled herself away from the TV, over to where her mother was holding the phone. Cradling the receiver between shoulder and ear, she steered herself a little farther away, for privacy.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Jess. How you doing?"

"Francis! I'm doing fine. How are you and Noelle?"

"Yeah, listen, I got someone here who wants to talk to you."

"Okay, who?"

"Remember the guy who got us back? The big guy?"

Reflexively, she nodded. "Yeah, I remember him. What about him?"

"Well, he's here right now, and he wants to ask you something."

She frowned. "Uh, okay. Put him on."

There was the sound of the phone being passed over, and a different voice came on. "Hey, Jess."

"Uh, hi. What was your name again?"

"You can call me Mike. Got a question for you."

"Francis said that. What do you want to know?"

"You willing to come back as a cape, one last time?"

She went very still. "You're going to have to explain that."

"There's something going down, in the next six months to a year, that'll mess up Earth Bet, and put a fair hurt on Aleph and all the other earths out there. I'm working on averting it. Recruiting everyone I know who I think can help. You interested?"

She closed her eyes. "Mike, I … I never wanted to be there. I just wanted to come back. I haven't even used my powers since I got back."

His tone was sympathetic. "I understand. You don't have to do it. I was just checking."

"Who else are you asking?"

A chuckle. "Just about everyone. Luke's on his way over, so I can talk to him personally."

"I'm really not sure if I can face this. Not again."

"That's fine. You don't want to do it, I'm not going to force it down your throat. I will say that there's money involved. Just so you know."

She shook her head. "No. I don't want to know how much. Tell the others I'm sorry, but I just … can't."

"It's all good. I know how much crap you guys went through while you were here. If I was in your place, I'd have trouble saying yes, too." His voice was warm and accepting. "I'll just give you back to the others."

The phone was passed over again; this time, she found herself talking to Noelle. "Hi!"

"Hi, No. So you're saying yes?"

"Not sure, but I think yeah, I am."

"But you don't even have powers. What are you going to do?"

"Well, apparently they've found out how good at game strategy I am, so they're putting me in there."

"Oh. Well, I hope you do all right."

"Thanks. I wish you could be with us."

"I just can't go back. Not for anything."

"Okay then. Say hi to your mom for me."

"Thanks. Will do."

Jess pressed the End Call button, and wheeled back to place the cordless phone on the cradle. She tried once more to lose herself in the TV show, but her thoughts kept intruding.

I hope I've done the right thing …

=//=//=​

We heard the high-powered sports car coming before it ever screeched to a halt. I peered out the window; it was bright red, and looked like a jet fighter mated with a speedboat. All raked lines and spoilers, spinning rims and god knew what else. If it didn't feature every accessory known to mankind, plus a few more, I would have been deeply astonished.

Luke bounded out of it, looking bright and energetic; he disappeared into the building below, and an absurdly short time later, we heard the knocking on the door. On general principles, I made it to the door first; if this was Cody trying for revenge anyway, he would get a nasty surprise.

"Oh, hey," Luke greeted me as I opened the door. "My man. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing okay," I told him. "But you seem to be living large. I take it the hero for hire gig pays nicely?"

"Fuck me, yes," he chuckled. "I'm one of very few capes in the world, and there's no Alexandrias or Eidolons among the others, let me tell you. I can write my own checks. And there's more than a few zeroes involved."

"Well, I'm glad you're getting along," I told him. "You're certainly looking well."

"Benefits of having a personal trainer, a swimming coach, and a dietician on twenty-four hour callout," he pointed out. "Never felt better in my life."

Krouse leaned across to me and added in a stage whisper, "The fact that these are all hot women don't hurt either." Noelle slugged him on the arm. "Ow!" he protested. "Well, it's true!"

"Yes, well, you don't have to make a song and dance about it." She folded her arms, looking miffed.

I wasn't quite sure how to deal with the incipient argument, but Luke rescued me. "So, dude, you got something you want to talk to me about?" He put his arm around my shoulders and steered me away from the couple.

"Yeah." Quickly, I outlined the situation; an escalating problem, likely to break in six months or so, needing big hitters. "And you're a pretty big hitter, as hitters go."

"Hmm." He rubbed his chin, where he'd grown a neatly trimmed soul patch. "Sure, I can help out."

"Excellent."

I went to go on, but he cut me off. "Just make an appointment with my agent, and I'll be right at your service."

I paused. "Your … agent?"

He nodded. "She's really good at scheduling my time."

Recalling Krouse's words, I nodded in reply. I'll just bet she is.

"Well, can you make it to a meeting tomorrow night at least?" I tried to stress how important it was. "I'm going to be explaining exactly how dire the threat is."

He frowned. "I can try. What time?"

"Seven."

"That might interfere with my tennis lesson."

I wondered if his tennis coach was also a hot woman, and then I wondered if the 'lesson' even took place on a tennis court. Then I wondered if I was being unfair to him. "Look, this is serious. End of the world serious."

"Okay, okay." He grimaced. "I'll explain it to her. I can be there." 'Her', huh?

"Great," I told him. "Try to be alone at six fifty. I'll pick you up then."

He nodded. "Sure thing."

"Good." Well, that's three out of five so far …

=//=//=​

"So, what's the good word?"

Cody turned at the first syllable. As soon as he saw where the portal was, he reacted.

He had used the hour wisely, getting in touch with someone who could provide him with what he wanted. And then he had used his power to get the item he wanted without actually paying for it.

And so, as the guy stepped through the portal, he pulled out the Saturday Night Special that he had managed to acquire. Holding it double-handed, he aimed it directly at the guy.

Just as the guy started to react, Cody rewound him, putting him back to the point where he started stepping through the portal. "So -" he began, before Cody opened fire, pulling the trigger as fast as he could.

The recoil, as modest as it was, spoiled his aim after the first shot, but he kept firing anyway. The report deafened him, and the muzzle-flare left after-images in front of his eyes, but he was pretty sure that he'd scored with at least two of the shots.

Fuck you, and fuck the end of the world.


End of Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

 

[Asheram]

I shouldn't be angry with him, he's been Smurfed and isn't really right in his head... But still, you know?

 

[theonebutcher]

I don't think that was how his power works... he would have to reset himself along with Mike and Doormaker, which would mean he lost his memory of the fight. Make a mention of how he retains his injuries from his scuffles with Mike.

 

[Starfox5]

Good thing Riley enhanced Mike - a Saturday Night Special won't hurt him, much.

 

[edale]

Also, Security! Where one unpowered man can walk into a room full of people with multidimensional physics breaking powers... and bully them all into doing what he wants.

Click to shrink...

Not 'bully'.

'Convince'.

Click to shrink...

His revenge was slipping through his grasp. "No. No. You can't do this."

"Sure I can." The guy shrugged again. "It's easy."

"Wait. I'll – I'll join."

"And you'll drop any and all chance of revenge?"

His mouth opened, then closed again. "I – yes."

He was slammed against the wall, one large hand on his chest, the other catching his knife hand as he tried to bring it up, to stab or slash. Strong fingers squeezed his wrist till the bones ground together; the pain was excruciating. He barely felt the knife drop from numbed fingers.

"See, I think you're lying. I think you just want to get close to him, to Trickster."

He rewound.

"- revenge?"

"Yes." He was bringing the knife up as he spoke; his hand was caught and then he was slammed into the wall. The knife dropped from numbed fingers.

"See, I think you're just looking to get close to him, to Trickster. So you can get revenge."

He rewound again.

"- revenge?"

He took a deep breath. "I don't know," he admitted honestly. "It's all I've lived for, these last two weeks. Longer."

Click to shrink...

So Ack... you were saying?

 

[Firedon]

So Ack... you were saying?

Click to shrink...

I don't know, seems pretty convincing to me.

 

[Prince Charon]

Good thing Riley enhanced Mike - a Saturday Night Special won't hurt him, much.

Click to shrink...

It might annoy him, though. Also, I doubt it would surprise him.

 

[Ack]

I actually need to rewrite the Cody power bits. Not quite canon. Ugh.

 

[edale]

What were Cody's canon powers exactly... Didn't recognize that whole time-resetting thing at all...

 

[Ack]

What were Cody's canon powers exactly... Didn't recognize that whole time-resetting thing at all...

Click to shrink...

He can reset one person by about three seconds. Their personal timeline reverts them to where and how they were, three seconds ago. This includes negating injuries gained in that three second time frame. Everyone else can see this person being reset. The subject of the reset doesn't realise that they've been reset; to them, everyone else has moved a bit.

He can also reset himself, but everyone else can see this, and he's aware of it. So he can hold back on any action he was going to do that would cause him problems.

 

[Atropa]

I'm a bit confused.

Say Cody shoots another Person. He can use his Power to reset them and they would be fine, right?
But what if he resets himself, does his Gun now have the Bullet back? And if yes, what about the other person? Are there now 2 "identical" bullets in the world? (I know one would deform from impact, but they once were the same bullet)
If no, does the Bullet + shell disappear from the victim and ground?

What if he throws a grenade (with a very short fuse or cooked so it explodes in that timeframe)?

 

[theonebutcher]

No, he's not aware of it, Krouse beat him up again and again with the same tactic. He could also reset an area. Let's say he reset Mike and the portal. He can't reset half a person and the effect goes through the portal, which in turn somehow goes through Doormaker. So the Manton effect resets Doormaker too. If he resets Mike and Doormaker then what you need to change is just that his injuries persist, say, his hand still hurts.

I think the bullet would simply be missing from the gun, but if he managed to tag it with his power without tagging the one he shot at it would be back in the gun. But maybe without gunpowder if he didn't tag the air around himself.