One More Trigger (Worm AU)

[Ack]

One More Trigger

Part Thirty: Riley Grace

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

Bonesaw

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<><>​

Three minutes later, Riley did indeed see.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What does she want from me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<><>​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Water," she croaked.

"Close your eyes," Athena told her.

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

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

It felt heavenly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is he—was he—really a Master?

No, can't think about that.

Is he really dead?

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

Poop.

He really is dead, isn't he?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<><>​

That Night

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, maybe after a good night's sleep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Night."

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

<><>​

"Be a good girl …"

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

"Hey. Hey, you okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Better?" murmured Lisa.

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

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

Reassured, Riley slept.



End of Part Thirty

 

[Ack]

One More Trigger

Part Thirty-One: Head Games

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



Something was missing.

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

The Nine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<><>​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, when he puts it that way …

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

Except …

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

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

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

"You okay there, Riley?" asked Ladybug.

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

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

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

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

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

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

<><>​

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

"Enter."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Officially, anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which meant she'd have to find another solution.

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

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

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

<><>​

Evening of the 29th​
Northern Ferry Terminal
Ladybug

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<><>​

Flechette

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<><>​

Sparx, a Little While Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, she nodded to him. "Clear."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



End of Part Thirty-One

 

[Ack]

One More Trigger

Part Thirty-Two: Who to Turn to

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


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

Parian

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<><>​

Flechette

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<><>​

Director's Office
One Hour Later
Director Piggot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Merely thinking the name made her shudder.

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

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

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

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

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

And that was the way of the world.

<><>​

The Hebert Household
09:45 That Morning
Ladybug

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But what do I do?" asked Flechette.

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

"And what's that?"

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

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

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

<><>​

Half an Hour Later
Sparx

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Danny nodded. "Pretty much."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<><>​

One Hour Later
Flechette

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



End of Part Thirty-Two

 

[Ack]

One More Trigger

Part Thirty-Three: Let's Twist Again

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



Hebert House
Half an Hour Later
Ladybug

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Faster," Taylor acknowledged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fair." Missy went back to pressing buttons.

<><>​

Sparx

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<><>​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Aegis is here, ma'am."

"Send him in."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Selecting the appropriate one, she hit Play.

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

She heard her own voice. "Enter."

A few moments passed.

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

"No. Your performance has been within expectations."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The digitised voice spoke again. "Recording ends."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come in and close the door."

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

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

"Um ... yes?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can we continue, please?" asked Vista.

"Certainly." Emily clicked Play again.

"Director ...?"

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

"Yes, ma'am."

"What is your opinion of them?"

"Well, Armsmaster likes them –"

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

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

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

"I don't –"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, she was defeated.

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

Leaning back in her chair, she sighed, long and bitterly.

Well, fuck.

<><>​

Flechette

As Missy—they'd already unmasked to each other—and Lily stepped out of the PRT building, Lily turned to the younger girl. "So you're sure they're okay with me joining?"

Missy nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, hell yes." She pulled her phone—her own phone, as the Wards issued ones had been among the few things they had to hand back—and dialled a number. "Yeah, we're done, and we're on the way. Yeah, both of us. Yes, Lisa was right. Like anyone would bet against her. Oh, and we're gonna need a place to stay. Cool, see you soon."

Shutting the phone down, she put it away. "C'mon, let's go." Space warped, and they stepped away across the rooftops.

"Uh …" ventured Lily. "I wonder how much trouble Piggot's going to get into, over this?"

Missy grinned, showing her teeth. "Well, the Chief Director will be getting an anonymous email any moment now about what she tried to do, and how she went about it, and the results. So … more than a little, is my guess. Even if it's just for getting caught. Enough that she won't have time to take her frustrations out on Team Samaritan."

"Good." Lily turned to the other topic on her mind. "So, uh, about the Empire, and how they also made a move on Sabah …?"

Missy's grin turned savage. "Oh, we've got plans for them, too."



End of Part Thirty-Three

[A/N: The first audio clip that they listened to is lifted out of Part Thirty-One, posted four and a half months ago. The second comes from Part Nine, posted over seven years ago. Woo!]

 

[Ack]

One More Trigger

Part Thirty-Four: Play Stupid Games …

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



Saturday, April 30, 2011; 01:45 PM
PRT Building
Director's Office

Emily Piggot was not a parahuman. She'd been specifically tested for the potential, years ago, and it had been concluded that she was among the fortunate majority who would never trigger with powers, no matter what the stimulus. (She considered it fortunate, not the testing body). Her utter lack of a corona pollentia, confirmed every year at her insistence by an MRI scan, gave her a sense of personal security. I'll never be one of them.

While nobody below her in the chain of command (and that meant essentially everyone in the PRT building and the ENE Protectorate HQ) would say to her face that she was bigoted against capes, the occasional rumour to that effect had surfaced in her hearing. Had she been charged with such, she would have denied it strenuously; was it bigotry to believe that capes were untrustworthy when she'd seen evidence of it herself? And when those under her command were literal children, treating them with kid gloves merely gave them the excuse to expect more of the same when the fact of their powers required that they act with the same level of discipline as any armed adult.

Still, she was fully aware that she had misstepped massively when it came to Flechette and Parian. Had she recalled the conversation with Vista, her conversation with Flechette would have had a different focus. Perhaps not with the same potential level of success, but she felt confident that there still would have been a good chance of convincing Flechette to bring Parian into the fold.

Her reasoning was simple: in her experience, there was no such thing as a useless cape. Every parahuman, everywhere, possessed some means of bringing the fight to the enemy, and to be a known neutral cape in the semi-active war-zone that was Brockton Bay was just asking to be targeted by one faction or another. She'd heard horror stories of Tinkers being literally forced to commit murders as a way of coercing them into one gang or another, or of their loved ones being murdered in turn when they refused to play ball. Was it so bad that she'd tried to save Parian from being forced down that path? Especially since the Empire had apparently been trying exactly that?

Apparently … yes. It was. And thus, the current clusterfuck.

Normally, it would be an odyssey of Sisyphean proportions for Wards to resign at all, much less on such short notice. The PRT regulations had been drawn up to ensure that any such attempt would be as long-winded and painful a process as possible, drawn out into days and weeks of negotiation and counter-proposal, until all the lawyers involved had their pound of flesh and more. But Flechette and Vista had short-circuited the whole affair by using her own words against her. It was a given that both Biron parents would be arriving at the PRT building within the next day or so, fighting for the chance to sign the papers that would forever separate Vista from the Wards, and thus get into their daughter's good books. And Flechette was an adult in her own right, so for her it was already a done deal.

Technically, it was possible that Emily's career would survive the sudden resignation of two effective and capable Wards. She was sure it had happened before, though she couldn't be certain exactly when or where that might have been. Perhaps they would even cut her some slack because of the endless stresses piled on her from the location she was in; her office, after all, covered PRT activities over the entire ENE region of the United States of America. Including the festering cesspit where she actually resided.

Technically, maybe. But she knew deep within the withered, blackened depths of her soul that even if she retained the Directorship after this, her career would be forever blighted. The Powers that Be would take every excuse to cut her out of the decision loop, especially when it came to anything regarding Wards, anywhere, ever. Even her judgement concerning matters within Brockton Bay itself would be scrutinised and second-guessed to a fare-thee-well.

They wouldn't overtly fire her, she suspected, if only because they wouldn't want this sort of thing becoming public knowledge. But the subtle pressure would be on for her to resign, from here on in.

Well, the joke was on them. Renick, as able an administrator as he was, was entirely unsuited to doing the top job. He hadn't wanted it when he was thrust into it before she ever arrived in Brockton Bay, and he still didn't want it. She liked and respected him as much as she did anyone in the building, and that was not something she was about to dump on him.

If they could bring in someone both willing and capable, she'd resign in a heartbeat to enjoy her military pension and health care. But not before then.

At that moment, as though divining her thoughts, her phone rang. She was entirely unsurprised to see the name on the caller ID. "Hello, Director Costa-Brown. I've been expecting your call."

<><>​

Hebert Household

Flechette

Lily could have sworn she was walking on air, from the sheer lightness of her heart. The stress and strain of the last few days had just vanished, thanks entirely to the goodwill and assistance of Vista and Team Samaritan. Not all of it—there was still the issue of the Empire making moves on Sabah. But now she knew exactly what was going on there, and she had a whole team backing her up that was totally willing to deal with that shit.

Exactly how good Team Samaritan were, she'd learned first-hand. The mission to go into ABB territory and lift Oni Lee out from among his loyal minions could've gone so badly, but it hadn't. The basic plan had involved contingencies for foreseeable and unforeseeable circumstances; they'd run it by the numbers, and it had worked.

This, of course, had led them to the understanding that it was the Empire, not the ABB, who had designs on Sabah. Who had thrown a grenade at her, in order to frighten her into seeking refuge within their ranks. Alan Barnes—the whole team, including the Dad Brigade, had unmasked to her after she'd quit the Wards—had introduced her to the term 'false flag operation', which had a long and infamous history. Lily didn't care about the name. She just thought it was a shitty thing to do.

"So how are you feeling?" Athena—Lisa—gave her an understanding grin from the kitchen door. "Still stuck in 'when's the other shoe dropping' mode? I know I was like that for a little bit after I joined."

"It's kind of like that," Lily confessed. "It was like I was facing all bad options, then Missy called you guys in, and all I can think is, 'why didn't I do this earlier'?"

"Because you didn't know you could." Taylor spoke up from where she was sitting on the sofa with Emma and Madison. "I'm not going to say that Director Piggot was deliberately trying to make you think you didn't have anywhere to turn, but …"

"But that's exactly what she was doing," Lisa finished, strolling into the living room with Riley in tow. "Like it or not, in places like Brockton Bay where the villains like to give the impression that they're allowing the heroes to exist because it's too much trouble to exterminate us, it's basically the Wild West all over again. And when that happens, you get cowboys." She and Riley made for the same armchair but neither yielded, so they ended up wedged in side by side.

Lily tried to imagine Director Piggot in a ten-gallon hat and chaps, and failed utterly. "So you're saying she was breaking the rules?"

"Rules?" called out Danny from the kitchen. "In situations like this, rules are for people who fail. If she'd succeeded, there would've been a slap on the wrist and a weasel-worded apology, but Parian would've been inducted into the Protectorate all the same. I've seen it before in other situations. Success excuses a lot of shortcuts."

"Not that you're going to get an apology," Emma advised her. "That would involve them officially admitting that Director Piggot went off the reservation, and thus opening themselves up to all sorts of unpleasant scrutiny. So it'll be like it never happened. Nobody saw nuthin'. And in a few weeks or months, she steps down with minimal fuss, to be replaced by a new face."

Madison cupped her hands in front of her mouth and pretended to blow a trumpet fanfare. "All hail the new boss, same as the old boss."

Lily nodded. "… right. So, assuming the PRT decides to ignore me from now on, where do we go from here? I mean, the Empire tried to pull that shit on Parian. You guys said you had ideas?"

"We do," Emma confirmed. "The first thing we have to acknowledge is that it's essentially suicide to try to match their strengths with our strengths, because even though we've got a lot of variety and some strong hitters, they've got numbers and some power on their side as well."

Taylor rolled her eyes. "Since when have we ever tried to attack someone on their strengths?"

"Never." Lisa grinned. "Lily, you remember the Oni Lee grab? Sit tight; that was nothing compared to what the Samaritans are capable of."

"Actually, that's something I've been meaning to ask," Danny said, coming to the kitchen doorway. "Lily, were you intending to join the Samaritans, partner with Parian, or go independent for a while? It's not going to change our plans for the Empire Eighty-Eight, but it'll be good to know your intentions going forward."

Lily blinked. "What, I've got a choice? I mean, I'd love to join, but I thought that was the expectation anyway. It's why I haven't said anything."

"Oh, no, no, no." Madison shook her head. "You're our friend. We helped you out because Missy told us about your problems. And because nobody else was doing anything about Oni Lee, of course. It would be great to have you, but there's no obligation. We're not the PRT, after all. I mean, Emma might look like Director Piggot, but—yipe!"

Emma raised an eyebrow as she retracted the two tendrils of hair back along the sofa. Madison shook her hand back and forth, and stuck her tongue out at her teammate. "No fair."

"Right," drawled Emma, then turned her attention back to Lily. "What she said, more or less. Of course, we know that you're in a relationship with Parian; will it cause tension between you two if you join us, given that you used to date Madison?"

Lily raised her eyebrows as she looked at Madison. "I can't see it being a problem, can you?"

"Not me." Madison shrugged. "We had a nice time, but it's over and done. Hell, if you wanted to bring Parian around to say hi, we could gossip about you behind your back and I could make sure you're treating her right." Her mischievous grin robbed her words of all sting.

The more Lily thought about that, the better it sounded. Besides, she wanted to introduce Sabah to everyone, and get her opinion on whether she should join. (Or rather, get her blessing to join.)

"Okay," she said decisively. "I'm going to do that. So, when do we start planning how we're going to take down the Empire Eighty-Eight?"

Danny fielded that one. "Missy's arranging for the final paperwork signing to cut her loose, and Vicky and Amy are no doubt wowing New Wave with a totally over-the-top version of how you girls grabbed Oni Lee. They'll be over this evening, along with Rod and Alan, and we'll have the brainstorming session then."

"This evening …" Lily considered that. "Would it be okay if I brought Parian around? I'm sure she'll feel a lot better once she knows for certain that something's being done."

"Well, duh," Emma said, before Madison could. "What part of 'we want to meet your girlfriend' have you not actually been picking up on, here?"

Riley raised her hand for attention. "Hey, you know if you join, they're gonna make you do exercise? Like on a track? And shoot at you with paintball guns?"

Lily nodded. "Vista's been telling me about it. She's really enthusiastic. I gotta admit, I'm kinda intrigued, especially seeing the sort of teamwork you guys have got going on here."

"Oh, great," groused Riley, rolling her eyes. "Another exercise nut." Then she squawked and flailed as Lisa wrapped an arm around her neck and applied a noogie to the top of her head.

"Don't worry," Emma advised Lily. "You'll get used to it, then you'll start enjoying it too." She glanced at Taylor and Madison, and all three chorused in a robotic tone, "One of us … one of us …"

Lily shook her head at the horseplay, but she couldn't stop the grin from breaking out over her face at the same time. Even though they could be totally silly from time to time, these were her kind of people.

<><>​

Empire Eighty-Eight Safe House

Kaiser

Victor popped the top off the beer and slammed half of it back in one practised move. He was back in his ordinary clothing, but the Oni Lee mask was still hanging at his belt. Raising his bottle, he clinked it against Max's glass.

Max raised an eyebrow as he took a drink. "I presume from your attitude of cheer that the mission was a success?"

"Goddamn right it was a success," Victor agreed. "Parian and the heroes are totally convinced that the ABB are trying to lean on her. Just a few more nudges, and she'll be open to talking to people who can maybe protect her. Like us." He leaned forward. "Also, get this. Oni Lee's off the board."

"What?" Max blinked. He didn't like being out of the loop like this. "The PRT wouldn't have the manpower or the guts to go into ABB territory like that. Not without taking heavy losses."

"That's true, but I know this much." Victor raised a finger. "Glory Girl dropped him off in the lobby of the PRT building about an hour ago, then flew away without saying a word."

"New Wave took him down?" Max frowned, not at all sure where this was going. "Why wasn't it on the news?"

"It wasn't on the news because it wasn't New Wave." Victor took another hit from his beer. "The whisper is that it was Team Samaritan, finally finishing the job with the ABB."

"Team Samaritan." Max digested the concept. They were a relatively new team on the block, but they'd gone from strength to strength. While they didn't patrol the city regularly, they'd taken on serious hitters—including the Nine, twice—and won handily. The rumour was that Lung had been taken down by the red-headed Striker called Sparx, before the team was even formed.

So far, they hadn't bothered the Empire Eighty-Eight, though while Hookwolf and some of the others considered that to be simple good sense on their part, Max was beginning to wonder if it was more a case of 'we haven't bothered yet'. Certainly, the lightning raid on the Merchants just the previous day had come as a nasty shock to everyone, cleaning up the entire cape contingent in a matter of minutes.

Yes, they were the Merchants; a bunch of drug-addled wannabe villains did not equate to the cream of the Empire. But still … the Merchants had still possessed enough in the way of power that nobody had done this to them before. And now they were all behind bars, and the police were cheerfully mopping up their underlings with zero fear of reprisal.

And today, if Victor's sources were correct, they'd reacted to the staged attack on Parian with swift and accurate force, capturing a teleporter from the middle of his territory before handing him over to the PRT. On the upside, this removed the last obstacle in the Empire Eighty-Eight's way. No other significant cape gangs (aside from Faultline's Crew, and they could be safely ignored) held territory in Brockton Bay; they could expand as far as they liked.

On the downside … Team Samaritan had captured the Merchants and Oni Lee in two consecutive days. At this point, the Empire Eighty-Eight were the biggest hitters on the block. Would Team Samaritan target them next, or would they assume the Empire was too big to be taken off the board? Given previous performance, he wanted to assume the latter … but he couldn't be sure.

"Put all forces on alert," he said. "There's a chance they'll come after us next. If they do, I want to be ready. How many men can you have on the street, armed, by tonight?"

"Guns, about a hundred, maybe a hundred fifty," Victor said at once. "Other weapons, another two hundred."

"Do it." Max considered his options. "See what you can do about acquiring more firearms. A lead pipe isn't going to do much about someone who can fly, or electrocute you from a distance."

"Got it." Victor eyed him with concern. "You really think they'll come after us next?"

Max spread his hands. "Do you see anyone else poised to take over the entire city?"

Slowly, Victor nodded. "I see your point. I'll get the word out, right now."

"You do that." Max leaned back in his chair and sipped at his drink. Team Samaritan were good, he couldn't deny that. But were they good enough to defeat an Empire?

He thought not.

<><>​

Later That Evening
Hebert Household

Panacea

Amy sat on one side of Lisa on the sofa, with Riley on the other. The six chairs had been brought out of the kitchen to seat Taylor, Madison, Vicky, Missy and Danny Hebert, with one spare; being the tallest, Taylor and Danny had both turned theirs around to sit with their arms crossed on the chair backs. Alan Barnes had claimed one of the armchairs, while Emma perched on the arm.

"You know," remarked Danny, looking around the crowded room, "it might not be a bad idea to invest in a base of some sort. This was much easier when it was just you three girls."

"We also had a lot fewer options," Emma noted. "Amy, Missy, Lisa, even Vicky—they've all helped the team out in some way."

"Wow." Vicky rolled her eyes. "Talk about damning with faint praise. 'In some way', hah. I happen to be awesome, thank you very much."

"And that awesomeness is a lot more effective when competently directed, I think we'll all agree," Amy observed with a grin. "Or have you not kicked ass more thoroughly since we started hanging with Team Samaritan?"

Vicky wrinkled her nose. "I'll grant you that it's been easier," she conceded. "A lot less flailing around, a lot more satisfying punching."

Lisa's head came up. "They're here." A moment later, Amy heard the squeak of brakes as Rod Clements' car pulled up on the street.

"I'll get the door," Taylor offered, and jumped up. She headed through to the entrance hall; Amy heard the front door open. "Hi," Taylor said a moment later. "Come on in."

She came back into the living room a moment later, followed by Lily and another girl. Petite and blonde, the newcomer was wearing jeans, a jacket, lace gloves, and a porcelain doll-face mask. Rod Clements followed behind both of them, closing the door as he entered.

Everyone stood up, and Danny stepped forward. "Hello, Parian," he said warmly. "I'm Danny Hebert. You just met my daughter, Taylor." He gestured at the surrounding group, all free of masks. "As Rod probably told you, we talked about it, and decided that unmasking to you was the best policy, so we didn't have to worry about who knew and who didn't. However, you don't have to if you don't want to. It's your identity."

Parian shared a glance with Lily, who nodded encouragingly. Reaching up to the mask, she removed it, revealing that the blonde curls were an attached wig. Amy blinked as she realised that Parian was actually a rather pretty Middle Eastern woman. "Hello, my name is Sabah—"

"Wait, I know you!" exclaimed Madison. "You were with Lily after the dance!"

"Guilty as charged," Lily admitted with a grin. She took Sabah's hand. "I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress. We've been together ever since."

"And that's fair," Emma agreed. "Hi, Sabah. I'm Emma Barnes and this is my dad. That's Madison, you probably know Amy and Vicky Dallon already, that's Lisa and Riley; and last but definitely not least, that's Missy."

"Don't worry if you forget any names," Madison added. "Feel free to ask. Oh, and we reserved the armchair for you two."

Sabah ducked her head shyly against Lily's shoulder. "It's really nice to meet you all. I wanted to thank you for going after Oni Lee for me, even though Lily says it wasn't him."

"Well, no, it wasn't," Emma said. "But that doesn't matter. He's done enough other stuff. As for the guy who did do it …" She took her seat again on the arm of the chair. "That's what we're here for tonight. To figure out how to explain to the Empire that you just don't do that to people."

"Especially since they're just as likely to get violent with Sabah once they realise she's not the 'right' colour for them either," Lily added, a grim set to her jaw. "So, we need to put an end to this as soon as possible."

Everyone got comfortable again; Rod took his chair, while Lily sat in the armchair and pulled Sabah down to snuggle in her lap. "Okay, then," Alan Barnes said. "Empire Eighty-Eight, from the top. Who wants to lead off?"

"I'll do it," Taylor said. "Kaiser. He can generate iron or steel from hard surfaces to form whatever shapes he wants, and can retract or dismiss it again at will."

"Query." Lisa raised her hand. "How do we know he can retract or dismiss his generated metal?"

"Simple deduction, my dear Watson," Taylor grinned at the look on Lisa's face. "He generates full-body jointed armour to wear into battle. Would you do that if you couldn't get it off again without requiring a pry-bar?"

Lisa put her hand down again. "Fair point. Continue."

Taylor nodded. "He's clearly got an ego, otherwise he wouldn't have called himself an emperor. Charismatic, considers himself a leader of men, but has only a moderate grasp of strategy and tactics at best. Otherwise, his forces would've taken Coil's down long before we did that ourselves."

"A good summary," Rod Clements said. "Next?"

"Purity," Emma began. "She seems to be separated from the team at the moment. Not committing crimes against innocents, but she was hitting ABB places on the regular after we took down Lung. I think maybe she's trying to make the jump to hero, but she's not really communicating it that well. Anyway, energy blasts that can wreck whole city blocks, but if you can get in close she's a glass cannon."

"Good, good." Danny Hebert nodded approvingly. "Krieg?"

Amy listened as Madison reeled off the Empire cape's known abilities, along with potential ways to get around his kinetic-manipulation power. She'd already been aware that Team Samaritan studied villain capes, and had done some study of her own, but it was way cool to be sitting in on a session like this as a veteran of the process. With each new cape whose capabilities and motivations were dissected and examined, Sabah's eyes widened and Lily looked more and more impressed.

Partway through the process, Danny Hebert got up and went into the kitchen. Lisa followed him in there; a little later, they emerged with trays bearing fruit juice and chopped pieces of fruit. Sabah accepted a glass and a piece of apple with a murmur of thanks, but did not take her attention away from the ongoing recital.

Once it was over, Emma giving a potted description of Rune's capabilities, the girls sat back and Danny took the floor again. "Okay, then. Strategies for taking down the Empire?"

Emma glanced at Taylor and Madison and made a couple of gestures. No words were spoken, but Taylor nodded, and Madison made a so-so gesture with her hand. Emma cleared her throat and addressed the gathering. "We're thinking we'd locate them with a flytrap, then start out with a Blind Man's Bluff leading on to Survival of the Unfittest. After we hit what we figure is a good number, we switch to shock and awe and steamroll the rest."

Amy blinked, not at all sure what she'd just heard. Beside her, Lisa let out her breath in an almost soundless oh. Riley, on the other side, frowned in confusion.

Alan Barnes raised an eyebrow. "Honey, suppose you unpack for the rest of us?"

Taylor grinned. "Oh, you're gonna love this."

<><>​

The Boardwalk
Sunday Morning, May 1st, 7:35 AM

Ladybug

The sun had been up for an hour or so, which meant the day was still cool but warming up. Taylor didn't care; she sat on the bench facing out to sea with sunlight on her face. Eyes closed, she leaned back and relaxed, just enjoying the morning.

This was not to say that she wasn't doing other things at the same time. With the network of booster bugs Amy had helped her put into place, she was tapped into the entire seething, humming, living mass of bugs right across Brockton Bay. What they saw, she saw. What they heard, she heard. And sometimes, she acted.

Here, she disrupted a mugging by having a wasp sting the perpetrator's hand and make him drop the knife. There, she flew a bunch of bugs in front of a five-year-old's face to stop her from running into traffic.

She couldn't fix every problem, but she could fix enough of them.

As for the one at hand, she had a bunch of bugs hanging around Parian's stall. Not in a swarm, and not even all the same type of bug. The leaf-bugs Amy had manufactured for the Nine's second showing were among this number, mainly because of their active camouflage ability.

Rod Clements had just stopped by Parian's stall with Madison and Missy in tow, and had purchased a princess doll that bore a striking resemblance to Madison herself. Sabah was really very good at what she did. While the gorilla was still in the process of being fixed, Alan Barnes had donated another stall, and a pugnacious-looking rabbit with boxing gloves was mock-sparring with itself to amuse passers-by.

Lily had wanted to be nearby as well, but they'd managed to persuade her that too many people lingering in that vicinity wouldn't help the sting and may just blow the whole operation. As it was, Taylor's bench was a good hundred yards north of the stall, and she wasn't even looking in the right direction; not that she needed to.

And then a couple stopped by the booth, vaguely matching Sabah's description of the helpful people from the day before. Taylor didn't tense, but a few bugs flew to spots where they could get a better look. A moment later, Sabah tapped her foot in the shave-and-a-haircut tempo they'd agreed on, picked up by the leaf bug currently resting on it. A ladybug landed on her hand briefly to reassure her that the message had been picked up, before flying off again.

At the same time, Taylor sent the signal to everyone else around: Game on.

<><>​

Parian

"Oh, hello! How are you feeling today?"

Sabah's eyes widened fractionally behind her mask as she recognised the couple from the day before. Her heart-rate quickened, but she reminded herself that there were members of Team Samaritan nearby, keeping an eye on her. She belatedly remembered to tap out the tune with her foot as she answered.

"Oh, still a little shaken, but I've decided that I'm not going to let them win." The scripted words sounded horribly wooden in her ears, but the man and woman didn't seem to be suspicious.

Smiling brightly, the woman nodded. "That's the spirit. Though you'd probably be a little safer if you had people watching your back. I mean, you never know if those people are going to come back and attack you again."

"That's true." Sabah nodded, suddenly glad for the full-face mask. There was no way she could keep up this sort of act if they could see her expression. Of course, if they knew she wasn't white, they wouldn't even be trying to recruit her. They'd probably be trying to kill me instead. Not exactly an improvement.

"Say, how much is that doll there?" asked the man. He pointed at one of the several she'd finished; more or less at random, Sabah suspected. Buying something would be intended to endear them to her.

Still, a sale was a sale, and she didn't care if it was Empire money. It would spend just as well as any other cash. She named the price, got the money, handed the doll over, and gave change. All very mundane.

Of course, he then presented it to his companion, who played up the cutesy scene; no doubt for Sabah's benefit. As the woman hugged it to herself, Sabah could tell they were both observing her covertly to spot her reaction. She wanted to stick her fingers down her throat and gag at the saccharine sweetness, but she put a coo in her voice as she thanked the couple.

Once they walked off, she heaved a sigh and sagged back in her chair. She'd known they weren't there to harm her, but to get on her good side. Still, dealing with people like that was nerve-wracking at the best of times.

I am not, she decided, cut out to be a spy.

<><>​

Flechette

"That's it," Emma said, watching the two stink-bugs (Taylor's sense of humour was apparently dubious at the best of times) move away from the large pretty beetle sitting on the matchbook between them on the bench. "They're gone."

Lily drew a huge breath of relief. "I can't believe how casual you're being about this. Right now, if this was a PRT op, the radio channels would be going nuts and there'd be about three cars tailing them."

"Making it about a hundred times as easy to spot," Emma noted. "We've gamed this type of scenario out before, several times. They're working out of our playbook, now. Let's go pick Taylor up and see how she's doing."

Getting up, they went to a vendor and acquired frozen yoghurt, then kept walking. After a couple of minutes, Taylor came into sight, heading in their direction. She accepted the third frozen yoghurt and they stood in companionable silence at the curb eating it until Alan Barnes pulled his car up next to them.

"All good?" he asked as they climbed into the car; Emma in the front, Taylor and Lily in the back.

"Better than I expected, actually," Taylor reported. "They talked in the car. I snuck a booster bug in and got most of their conversation." She produced a notepad, on which was written a series of strange symbols, and passed it forward between the seats. Emma took it and glanced over it, her eyebrows rising by the second.

"Well," she said once she'd taken in whatever the notepad had to say, "operational security is not their strong suit."

"You can read that?" asked Lily. "What language is it?"

Taylor snorted with amusement. "It's secretarial shorthand. I started learning it when I realised I could listen in on entire conversations. I could use a recorder, but that looks weird in public."

Emma cleared her throat. "Him: That went well. I mean, I thought it did. I think she liked it when I gave you the doll.

"Her: I don't know. She seemed nervous to me. Did she seem nervous to you?

"Him: Well, wouldn't you be nervous if someone chucked a grenade at you yesterday?

"Her: True, but she didn't jump all over the idea of having backup like you said she would.

"Him: Give it time. We need her to see us as friendly faces. You can't rush things like this.

"Her: What if she hears that Oni Lee's been captured and decides she doesn't need protection anymore?

"Him: Then a bunch of those mean, nasty, no-good ABB mob her next week and kick her stall down, and maybe give her a kicking, too.

"Her: And what if she joins, then finds out that we're the ones who tuned her up?

"Him: By that time, she'll be known as a member of the Empire. It's not like she'll have anywhere to go.

"Her: I hope you're right. Victor doesn't tolerate mistakes like that.

"Him: Yeah, but jobs like this are why we earn the big bucks. That's where it ends."

Taylor nodded. "That was all they said before one of them turned the radio on."

"Got it," said Alan Barnes. He glanced sideways at Lily. "You okay?"

Belatedly, she realised she'd been sitting forward in her seat, fists clenched. Slowly, she sagged back again. "Yeah ... it's just, when they talk about Sabah like some piece of meat for trade or ownership, I want to go track them down and kick their heads in myself."

"Yeah, I can kinda understand that," Emma said comfortingly. "Remember when I zarked Lung, that first time we met? I thought he'd killed Madison, which was why I went at him so hard. We're allowed to get angry. Just don't let the anger own you."

"And if you do find yourself in the position of putting an end to some well-deserving asshole," offered Alan Barnes from the front seat, "try to make it someone who's already got a kill order. Cuts down on the paperwork considerably."

"Right." Lily decided to submerge her anger in snark. "So, how do I get a kill order declared on Victor, anyway?" It wasn't quite a joke, and she was sure the other three people in the car knew it, but they laughed anyway.

"So yeah, the flytrap worked nicely," Taylor observed. "Each time they meet someone new, I'll put bugs on them, and in a day or so I'll be able to start mapping out a network. By next Saturday, I should have most if not all of the Empire Eighty-Eight's cape roster identified and located. We'll be able to plot their movements in real time, and figure out patterns."

"Identified?" Lily was startled. "You mean, their secret identities?"

Taylor shook her head and laughed. "No, no. If we get really lucky, we might fluke onto an identity or two, but I was talking about how we could determine which of the people we're following is a cape, and which cape they are."

"While they have no idea that we've even got them under surveillance," Emma noted with some satisfaction. "Thus, Blind Man's Bluff."

Lily shook her head slowly. "You know, you guys could be really scary if you tried. Just saying."

Taylor grinned at her, though her tone was almost cartoonishly deadpan. "Fear my skittering minions. Mwahahaha."

"Yeah, not actually helping."

<><>​

Hebert Household Basement

Sparx

Taylor leaned over the map table that had been set up. "And solid identification of Victor … there." Carefully, she placed a token on a particular address. "I've got a booster bug on site, and he's in costume."

"Nice." Emma grinned. "Anyone else there?"

"Not at the moment, not in costume, anyway." Taylor pursed her lips. "You know, technically, we could grab him, but …"

"… but if we do, the others'll go underground so hard they'll pop up in Mexico," Emma finished for her. "Once we've got all of them located, that's when we start picking them off."

"Yup." They shared a high-five.

As they headed upstairs to the kitchen, Emma glanced at Taylor. "So, where's Riley?"

"Oh, Dad took her to Weymouth, along with Lisa and Amy and Missy. Socialising time. It's going well, actually. Riley's really starting to come out of her shell."

Emma grinned. "And I bet Lisa and Amy and Missy are hating the chance to window-shop and just be themselves."

"Hating. Yeah." Taylor smirked. "Let's go with that."

<><>​

Medhall Building
Monday, May 2nd, 2011

Kaiser

With his desk clear, Max picked up his phone and tapped in a specific number. Victor answered promptly, which was good news in itself. "Yes, sir?"

"I'm just checking back with you on the progress you're making with Project P." On the extremely unlikely off-chance that his office was bugged—it was swept on a weekly basis—he made it a rule not to directly allude to illegal business if he could help it.

"Moderately good, sir." Victor sounded pleased with himself. "Cartwright and Hodges reported making contact and beginning the foundations of a rapport. The concept of friendly backup has been raised, though she hasn't responded. I'm thinking we might need to reinforce her feeling of insecurity, next Saturday."

"That sounds like a plan," Max agreed. "I'll leave it in your capable hands. Let me know how it turns out." He ended the call and put the phone down. New recruits were always good to have—the unpowered rank and file liked to see capes backing them up—so he hoped Victor wouldn't take too long to reel Parian all the way in and land her.

As for the other problem—the looming spectre of Team Samaritan—he had to admit that he didn't know what was going on there at all. They hadn't so much as smacked Empire footsoldiers around for light exercise since taking down Oni Lee. Every safe house had stocks of bug spray in case Ladybug decided to send a swarm in to clean out the place, and he was working on installing water sprinklers for dealing with Sparx' taser hair, but even that hadn't been necessary.

Oni Lee had been (in the inimitable phrasing of Hookwolf) a grade-A fucking moronic dingleberry to go strutting around his territory without serious backup. Max wasn't exactly sure how Team Samaritan had extracted him without losing people; hell, he wasn't sure how they'd captured a teleporter and kept him captured. But he was determined that his team would not go the same way.

Taking up his phone, he typed in a text, which he sent to a specific series of numbers.

'Meeting tonight, 1930. Location 3B. Discussion of upgraded security provisions.'

With a tap of his finger, he sent it winging away through the electronic aether, to its various recipients. 'Location 3B' was actually the sub-basement of the Medhall building; the '3' designator was to make it seem less important if the authorities happened to seize someone's phone.

We'll get through this. The Empire Eighty-Eight has been around for more than ten years. Team Samaritan has nothing on us.

<><>​

That Evening

Danny

Taylor's head came up, and she reached for the notepad that sat next to her plate. "Hm. That's interesting."

Lisa looked at her with unfeigned interest, while Riley pretended to pay more attention to her meal. "You can't leave it at that. Spill, o mistress of bugs far and near."

"Well, Victor's spending time with a woman who has to be Othala. Or rather, I found a costume in her closet that looks a lot like Othala's. And someone else came over for dinner. Either a non-cape friend, or maybe Crusader from the age and body type. Definitely not old enough to be Kaiser." Taylor scribbled in the pad as she spoke. "Anyway, they all just got in the same car and they're on the move."

"Are they costumed?" asked Danny. If the Empire was heading out to cause mayhem, it might be worth notifying the PRT operations line. Whatever difficulties they might be having with Director Piggot right now, he liked to think they were all on the same side here.

"Nope. All in civvies." Leaving her plate behind, Taylor got up and headed for the basement door. "I want to see where they're going."

Danny followed along as a matter of course, with Lisa close behind. Riley, for all her professed lack of interest, came down behind them, carrying her plate in one hand and fork in the other. In unguarded moments, she'd been heard to express her appreciation for regular meals and properly cooked food. The way to a person's heart might not be solely via their stomach, but it seemed to be working that way with Riley.

Standing back from the table, Taylor left the marker showing Victor and Othala where it was and put a beetle on the map, crawling over the paper to match the position of the car. Danny grinned as he watched the casual display of power; the villains were being tracked in real-time, to a degree of precision that even modern technology might have trouble matching, and they had no idea.

"And that's how you kept tabs on where we were?" asked Riley, indicating the slowly moving insect. "Just standing back and watching our position on a map from miles away?"

Taylor tilted her hand from side to side. "Not this specific means, but yeah, in a manner of speaking. Inside the school, definitely. Nobody pays attention to bugs, especially if they're camouflaged."

Riley shook her head. "This team is pure BS. Why haven't you taken over the city yet?"

Danny chuckled at that. "If you'd ever spent five minutes in administration, you'd know why not. This place would be a nightmare to organise." He pulled out his phone. "I'm going to let Alan and Rod know what's happening."

"Probably a good idea." Taylor eyed the beetle critically. "I don't know what they're planning on doing, but they're headed into the richer area of Downtown."

When the beetle came to a halt, Danny and Taylor leaned over the table to more closely examine its position. Lisa didn't bother, but her eyes widened anyway. "Shit," she murmured.

"What?" Riley was too short to get a good look at the map, so she gave Lisa an irritated glance. "Where are they? What's so special about that place?"

"Is that right?" asked Danny. "The placement, I mean?"

Taylor nodded soberly. "It is. All three of them just walked in through the back door of the Medhall building. Still in civvies."

Danny summed it up for everyone there. "Well, I'll be damned."



End of Part Thirty-Four

 

[Ack]

One More Trigger

Part Thirty-Five: Option Four

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


Hebert Household, Just a Little Later

Taylor

"Well, we're here. What's the big news?" Mr Clements asked as everyone got settled in their respective chairs.

Vicky and Amy had landed in the backyard just moments before, and even Missy had made it across town in a mad dash to get to the house on time. Only Parian was absent, and that was because her preferred mode of transportation was too slow. However, she'd been contacted, and Lily had promised to fill her in after the fact.

I took a deep breath. "Victor, Othala, and someone I'm pretty sure is Crusader, walked in through the back door of the Medhall building …" I checked the wall clock. "About twenty-five minutes ago."

Instead of the bedlam I'd been half-expecting, the room got very quiet. Lisa and Riley already knew, of course, and while we had our speculations, we were going to wait to air them. Emma and her dad shared glances and looked extremely thoughtful, while Madison started a whispered conversation with her father.

"Did you expect this?" asked Lily. "Because I can only think of a few reasons for that, and none of them are good."

Missy nodded. Vicky and Amy echoed the gesture. "The best case out of all that," Vicky decided, "is if they're robbing the place. Were they in costume?"

"Good question," I said. "No, they weren't. All three were in civvies."

"Well, what's been happening since?" asked Amy.

"And where's Danny?" asked Mr Barnes, looking around.

"Dad took the car out," I said. "I only had a few bugs on Victor and Othala, and there's been a suspicious run over the last few days of bug spray being bought up by individuals with shaven heads, so I'm guessing they're spraying everyone down when they come into meetings. I don't feel like sacrificing booster bugs, so Dad's driving a bunch of leaf bugs over to Medhall. We can't sneak an ear into whatever this gathering is, not at such short notice, but I can sure as hell tag everyone coming out."

"Okay, got it." Emma nodded thoughtfully. "So: thoughts on why three notorious supervillains might be walking in the back door of the Medhall building, late in the evening, in civilian clothing?"

"Attending a meeting of Supervillains Anonymous?" suggested Missy facetiously.

"Can't be," Riley said immediately. "I'd be there."

I chuckled, as did most of the people in the room. Lisa gave Riley a hug. "And me too, squirt."

Amy raised her hand slightly. "Maybe they're moonlighting as low-level employees who've got an after-hours clearance? They might literally be going in there to hang out in the executive break room and drink the expensive booze out of the wet bar."

"We'll put that down as Option One," Mr Clements said, pulling out a notepad and pen. He wrote for a few seconds, then nodded. "So, what's Option Two?"

I'd been thinking about this. "Option Two is that they've somehow got access, and that the Empire Eighty-Eight is using the building to meet in, without the knowledge of the people in charge. Big building, lots of meeting rooms, so on and so forth."

"Using … as … meeting … place …" he muttered, writing assiduously. "And Option Three?"

"Hmm …" Emma mused. "Option Three would be that they're meeting with the full knowledge of the people in charge. Like, they've said, 'we want to meet here' and Max Anders said 'yes, sir' and gave them access."

Madison shook her head. "That's basically Option Two with a few extra steps. Call it Option Two Point Five."

"No, it's still Option Three," her father said. "There are significant differences. Mainly the knowledge, but that does make a difference." He added a few words to his notepad.

"Which makes Option Four …" Lily began, then paused as though trying to fit her head around the concept. "Medhall is run by the Empire Eighty-Eight, and they're meeting in their own building."

Silence fell, with each of us working through the idea in our own way. I'd already been over it several times, but the others were mostly coming at it from a fresh perspective.

Mr Clements looked at me. "You and Danny clearly favour the idea of a full meeting of the Empire, given that he's delivering a bunch of your leaf-bugs there. Everyone else?"

"I think it's Option Four," Riley said, causing all eyes to turn her way.

"So do I," agreed Mr Barnes, "but I'm curious as to your reasoning."

Riley hesitated, but Lisa nudged her and made a subtle go-on gesture. "Kaiser's a proud man, but not just proud. He's toxic about it. He thinks he's smarter than everyone, and he's a control freak." She paused again, briefly. "I've … had experience with that kind of mindset."

I knew what she was talking about. Jack Slash had definitely been a proud man, and toxic with it.

"So how does that equate to Option Four, and none of the others?" asked Vicky curiously.

Riley took a deep breath. "It's not Option One. If they were low-level employees in Medhall, they're there for a reason. Kaiser would never let them risk firing or arrest by sneaking in after hours. And it's not Option Two, because Kaiser would never lower himself to sneaking into someone else's premises just to hold a gang meeting. That's what abandoned warehouses are for." She paused and looked around. "Does anyone disagree so far?"

"Nope," Lily said. "You're hitting the nail on the head as far as I can tell."

Riley smiled. "Good. Option Three … no. There's too much chance of the Medhall people getting sick of him ordering them around and dropping a dime on him. He wouldn't open himself up like that. The only way he'd have his people meeting in the Medhall building is if he either owned it or had a controlling interest, and could access security footage at any time to delete anything suspicious. In other words, Option Four."

"In other words …" Amy echoed. "You're saying that Kaiser is Max Anders."

Lisa, grinning as smugly as I'd ever seen her, held up her hand and snapped her fingers. "And the frizzy-haired brunette in the second row wins the grand prize."

Missy looked startled. "What, really? I spoke to him at a fundraiser last year! He congratulated me on holding my own as a Ward, and shook my hand! He was nice!"

"Probably because you were a blonde white cape," Emma interjected cynically. "I've been reading up on how people can get sucked into cults and gangs. Before you joined us, you were feeling less than fully appreciated as a Ward, yeah? He could probably spot that, and was laying the groundwork for maybe recruiting you if you ever showed bigoted tendencies."

Missy's eyes narrowed. "Motherfucker."

"Language!" scolded Riley.

I couldn't help it; I burst out laughing. Emma and Madison joined in, and Vicky and Amy were grinning too.

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey." Mr Barnes put his hands up for quiet. He was smiling as well, but he nodded toward the now embarrassed-looking Riley. "It seems that one of you has manners. Well said, young lady."

"Wait a minute." Vicky had lost her grin. "I remember that fundraiser. He spent time talking to me, too, about combating the local drug dealers. Mainly focusing on the Merchants and the ABB. Was he trying to recruit me, too?"

"There's a good chance of it," Lisa confirmed. "At the very least, he was sounding you out as a future prospect, seeing what your personal views were regarding minorities."

Vicky gritted her teeth. "Son of a …" She didn't finish the phrase, but we all knew what she meant.

"I can assume he wouldn't have tried recruiting me, then?" snarked Lily.

"No, but Lung might have," Lisa noted. "If Emma hadn't lit him up like a Christmas tree, that is."

Emma put her hand up. "Just so everyone knows, he totally deserved it. I thought he'd killed Mads."

Missy shrugged. "You had me at 'he totally deserved it'."

This time, everyone chuckled.

<><>​

Across Town

Danny

Cruising through the late evening traffic, Danny tried to look totally normal. Nothing to see here, just another suburban dad out for a drive. The traffic wasn't too bad for a Monday night; not so heavy that he couldn't get into the lane he wanted, not so light that he was the only car on the road.

The passenger-side window was cracked open a few inches for airflow, though the door was locked. Danny had never been carjacked, and he didn't want to ever experience it. Taylor would be on it immediately, but it would be so goddamn tedious to get it all sorted out.

The leaf-bugs, as well as a few spare booster bugs, were all crowded on the ceiling and door pillars of the passenger side of the car. Danny was glad he had no particular aversion to bugs, because that would've given anyone even slightly entomophobic the screaming heebie-jeebies. Up ahead was the Medhall building, lights on here and there. Unfortunately, even with binoculars, he wouldn't have been able to tell which lights were security measures and which were evidence of people in the building.

"Get ready," he said, even as he began slowing down for the lights. In response to this, the bugs started flowing out of the car onto the exterior, moving in unison so smoothly and easily that he would've missed it if he wasn't looking.

By the time he pulled up at the lights, the entire passenger side of the car was covered with leaf-bugs, all flattened to the paintwork and emulating the colour of the car. The few booster bugs were lurking in the corners of the windows, pretending that nothing was amiss. Checking his mirrors, he could see that the drivers around him were immersed in their own little worlds, with their own issues to deal with.

When the cross-street lights turned red, he counted aloud for the benefit of the booster bug sitting in the window gap. "Three … two … one …"

The lights ahead turned green; he let out the clutch and applied gentle acceleration, and the car moved off. At the same time, the bugs abandoned ship, flying down and to the side to get out of the headlights of the following car. He knew they'd head straight to the Medhall building and surround it on all sides, locating every exit. It was all up to Taylor now.

He knew the rest of the team would be at the house by now, talking over what they already knew, so it was time to get back. But first, he decided, he'd stop at a gas station and top up the tank. And maybe buy some snacks for the gathering. Plans were made more readily on a full stomach.

<><>​

Ladybug

"Dad's dropped off the bugs and he's on his way back," I reported. "I've just put leaf-bugs, and a booster bug, on every car in that parking lot, and more leaf-bugs on every exit I can find."

Lily tilted her head. "Remind me what the leaf-bugs are again? I don't know if I got filled in on those."

"These," I said, holding up my hand as a leaf-bug fluttered to it. It landed, flattened to my palm, and activated the chameleon effect, fading almost totally out of view. "Also, they can ignore bug spray if they have to. Amy made them up when the Nine started spamming pyrethrin everywhere to counter me."

"I still say that totally wasn't fair," Riley said, but it sounded like she was just saying it because she thought it was expected.

"All's fair in love and war, munchkin." Lisa gave her a light noogie, then addressed the room. "So, we've figured out that Max Anders is none other than the biggest neo-Nazi in town. Medhall is no doubt Empire Central. What are we going to do about this?"

Madison flicked a few fingers to get everyone's attention. "Once this meeting's over, they'll go their separate ways, yeah? And we already know Crusader came to Victor and Othala's house alone. I say we should kick off Survival of the Unfittest tonight."

Silence fell for a few moments. "You think we should grab Crusader after he leaves to go back to his place," I said carefully.

"Totally." Madison grinned. "We disappear him. They'll have no idea where he is, until he shows up in PRT custody."

"I like it." Emma frowned thoughtfully. "Though we could expand our sights a little. I'm pretty sure we could take all three at once. None of them are big hitters, but Othala at least is a definite force multiplier."

"I'm not saying yes and I'm not saying no." Mr Barnes ran his thumbnail over his lips. "However, this is very short notice. We're going to need to have a plan, with backups and alternatives, before we walk out that door."

Emma glanced at me and Madison, then nodded. "Absolutely. How's this for a idea …"

<><>​

Danny

The radio was playing soft music from yesteryear and Danny was relaxed behind the wheel on the way back to the house, when a dozen fireflies fluttered out of hiding and lined up on the windshield. Blinking in sequence, they indicated a left-hand turn. He frowned, wondering what was going on, but followed their lead.

"I'm assuming something's come up?" he asked out loud.

The fireflies rapidly reassembled themselves into a plus sign and flashed once; he took it as 'affirmative'. Then they lined up to indicate another turn and flashed in sequence.

"Is it something urgent, or something that we just want to do?" It had to be one or the other, considering the fact that they hadn't waited for him to come back to the house.

Two vertical lines indicated that it was the second choice. He was okay with that; the team's operating structure emphasised the option of making good decisions even when not everyone was available for an opinion. Following the directions given by the fireflies, he drove through the streets toward an unknown destination.

<><>​

Taylor

We were just getting organised when Dad drove up and parked behind the other two cars. He got out and looked us over, no doubt noting our lack of costuming. "I'm interested in what's going on here."

"Emma had a great idea." I grinned broadly. "Triple grab."

He blinked, and I saw him assimilating the concept. "Victor, Othala and Crusader?"

Mr Barnes nodded. "Bingo. Even if he rides home with someone else—unlikely, because his car's at their place—we'll get two at least, but three will be better."

"That math checks out, yes." Dad turned to Emma. "Brief me."

"Okay, so this is a nice quiet straight stretch of road." She gestured up and down the street. "Madison's been bringing air through here and making it leave its moisture behind in a sixty-foot-long block of the road." Madison had been practising a lot with altering the specific content of any given volume of air with her aerokinetic abilities.

He frowned. "Raising the dew point? Making the road slippery?"

"Yes to the first, no to the second. She's keeping all that humidity just off the ground. We want to stop them, not kill them."

"Speak for yourself," muttered Lily. "Victor threw a grenade at Sabah."

"We've talked about this," Mr Clements reminded her in a matter-of-fact tone. "I know you're angry at Victor, and you're totally justified in feeling that anger, but please, do not let it control you."

"They're coming," I reported as the bugs in their car crossed an imaginary line in my visualisation of the entire city. "One minute out. Three in the car."

Lily sighed. "I just wish I could punch his stupid face in, one time."

"Positions," Mr Barnes said.

As we'd practiced so many times before, we jumped back into the cars. Because Dad's car was there, we didn't have to cram in like we'd had to on the way out. Dad still needed briefing, and Emma and Lisa weren't integral to the plan, so they got into his car. I was in Mr Barnes' car, along with Lily, Madison and Missy.

"Fifteen seconds," Lily said, once we were settled. Her innate sense of timing was very useful.

"Good," said Mr Barnes. "Madison … mark."

<><>​

Aerodyne

"On it." Madison concentrated.

Having the natural breeze dump all its moisture in the one specific bounded area wasn't all that difficult—water droplets were relatively easy to nudge around with air molecules due to their size—but this next trick would be a little more strenuous.

Fixing the entire volume in her mind, she made sure the water droplets wouldn't go anywhere, while pulling a certain fraction of the air out and not letting any more rush in. The air pressure dropped; physics took a hand then, and the temperature reduced as well. More physics happened, and the heretofore-invisible humidity in the air condensed into fog.

"And … now," said Taylor.

As though prompted by her words, the headlights of a car turned the corner and approached them from behind, vaguely illuminating the interior of the vehicle. As it came up to the fog, the headlights changed hue to fog beams and the car slowed.

"Missy, you're up," said Mr Barnes.

<><>​

Vista

Missy took a moment to thank her lucky stars for being assigned as the team liaison, even if Director Piggot had had other ideas on how it should work. Pulling off this sort of thing never happened in the Wards. Then she got down to business.

Starting just inside the fog so that the people in the oncoming vehicle wouldn't see it happening, she took hold of the section of road (and the air above it) and stretched it massively, increasing its length by a factor of a hundred or so. A moment later, the car entered the zone of stretching. From the outside, it looked weird; she couldn't see the car itself, but the headlight beams were oddly truncated and they were travelling at somewhat less than walking pace. While the car would normally have been through in just a second or so, now they had half a mile of fog to drive through.

They'd worked on a concept called the Escher Snare, where she could trap someone within twisted space and make it virtually impossible for them to get back to normal terrain, but it was hard to keep them in if they had external visibility. Taking that away with darkness and fog allowed the Snare to work much better.

"Stopping the car now," she said out loud.

Maintaining the volume of air with the fog in it wasn't as intensive as setting it up, so now she had the wherewithal to spring the next part of the trap. Concentrating carbon dioxide in front of the slowly moving car, she fed it into the air intake for the engine. The result was entirely predictable; starved of oxygen, the engine sputtered and choked, then cut out altogether.

Having gone barely twenty feet into the fog, it rolled to a halt at the side of the road, just up ahead of them. The driver's side door opened, and an ordinary-looking man got out.

Missy looked at Taylor. "Tag, you're it."

<><>​

Ladybug

"Way ahead of you, o mistress of space and time." I'd had six ketamine bugs perched on top of the car, and they were flying forward from the moment the car began to roll off to the side of the road.

Two bugs headed for Victor—the booster bug in the car had visually identified him when he got back out of the meeting, though we still didn't know who he was—while four more buzzed into the car and homed in on the passengers. In each case, one hung back while the other went in for the sting.

The fact that six bugs were incoming at once must have alerted him on some unconscious level, because he slapped his neck before the first bug was properly able to start its injection of the ketamine/batrachotoxin mix. I zipped the second one in and gave him a full dose on the other side before he could react. His head came up and he began to turn, while his hand darted into his jacket for (I figured) either a gun or a phone.

Almost at the same time, Othala and Crusader each got a solid dose of the same substance. They started struggling to get their seatbelts off and Crusader popped out a couple of ghosts, but then the ketamine took effect and they slumped down again. Victor took a half-dose from a second bug, which overwhelmed his resistance. He face-planted in the asphalt with his hand still in his jacket.

We got out of the cars, and I headed over to Victor with Amy in tow. She made sure that he'd stay asleep, then Vicky stepped in and picked him up. "Do me a favour and open the door for me?" she asked Lily.

"So, what's the endgame?" Dad asked as Amy and I went around to the other side of the car. "If it comes out that we're the ones who grabbed them, the rest of the Empire is more likely than ever to come after us."

"The next bit was Amy's idea," I said. "She says she had it because of all the accident cases she's had to deal with in the hospital."

Using a handkerchief, Amy opened the passenger side doors and put Othala and Crusader well under, then hooked out Crusader's wallet and showed me his driver's license. I took note of his home address and called it up on my phone, then took personal control of the bugs within that location. It only took me a minute or so to do a sweep of the apartment, and I smiled.

In the meantime, Vicky and Lily finally got Victor into the car. It seemed he was prone to bumping his head on the door-frame, but nobody would notice. Probably.

"Got him," I said as I headed back to the car. "Either he's a Crusader fanboy or he's the genuine article, because he's got a full costume stashed away there, plus a spare. Also, what I'm pretty sure is a Confederate flag, hanging on the wall."

Mr Clements nodded. "Which means stage two is a go."

"I hadn't been filled in on stage two yet," Dad said. "I get the impression that it's sneaky, but I have no idea what it actually is."

"Oh, it's sneaky alright," Riley said. "In fact, it's downright evil, and that's coming from me."

Lisa chuckled. "You're gonna love it."

<><>​

The PRT Building, About Two Hours Later

Deputy Director Renick

Paul was looking over the latest projections on crime figures following the capture of Oni Lee, when there was a knock on his office door. Looking up, he frowned. There were no appointments scheduled for this time of the evening, which meant this was out of the ordinary.

"Come in," he called.

The door opened and the PRT duty officer, a Lieutenant Harrison, leaned in through the doorway. "Sir," he said, with a hint of ill-concealed glee in his voice. "There's been a development with the Empire Eighty-Eight."

That was a phrase that nobody should ever be happy about, so Paul was immediately intrigued. "What kind of development?"

"Five minutes ago, a car rammed the security bollards outside the building. When we investigated, there were three capes in the vehicle, all costumed and drunk off their heads. Victor, Othala and Crusader. They're unharmed, but they'll be sleeping off the alcohol for quite some time."

Paul stared at him. "Wait. Go through that again. You're saying that three Empire Eighty-Eight capes attempted a drunken ram-raid on our building, without backup? Are we even sure that they're actually the capes they're costumed as?"

"That's a good point, sir, and one that we've taken into account. Right now, we're holding them on suspicion, until we can get them under an MRI. But Sergeant Prower's faced Victor and Crusader before, and he swears blind that it's them."

"I see." Paul's mind spun as he tried to work out the series of events that would lead three Empire capes—not the big hitters by any stretch, but definitely formidable in their own right—to drink themselves into near-insensibility and then crash a car in the one location that would lead to their immediate arrest and incarceration. Pulling himself out of that rabbit-hole by his bootstraps, he asked himself a far more pressing question: what would Emily do?

The answer was brief and to the point. She wouldn't ask dumbass questions. She'd secure them first and ask questions later.

"Any orders, sir?" asked Harrison.

"No orders, no. But do we have facilities that can hold them? Especially Crusader?" He had a mental image of murderous ghosts roaming the building, killing everyone they came across.

Lieutenant Harrison nodded. "Director Piggot had orders in place for if we ever captured him. His ghosts always mimic what he's wearing and carrying, so he's been disarmed and stripped of his armour. There's padding strapped to his hands and feet, his arms and legs are fastened together, and he's chained to his bed. Also, he's got a blindfold strapped to his head. If he does send ghosts out, they won't be able to see or hurt anyone. And if it turns out that he can ignore things that are attached to him, he also has taser prongs strapped to his body."

"Understood." Paul hesitated. "I have one order. This needs to be kept under wraps until definitive proof has been located, one way or the other. Tightest security, need to know only. If it's them, we want to keep the Empire guessing for as long as possible; if it's not, we don't want to look stupid by making claims we can't back up. Also, I want bomb disposal looking that car over, immediately."

"Copy that, sir."

"Dismissed, Lieutenant. And well done."

"Thank you, sir."

Lieutenant Harrison vanished and the door closed behind him, leaving Paul to lean back in his chair, pondering the bizarre turn of events. What were the odds? He couldn't even begin to calculate them; it had literally never happened before.

A few minutes later, he sat straight up again, and made a call.

"Duty officer, Lieutenant Harrison speaking. How may I help you, sir?"

Paul took a deep breath. "It's crossed my mind that the events you spoke to me about may be part of an elaborate Trojan scheme. Bulk up exterior security on all points, and have the guards do regular eyeball checks on all prisoners instead of depending on cameras."

Harrison didn't hesitate. "Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Don't hesitate to call me if anything unusual starts to happen."

"Roger that, sir."

Paul ended the call and sat back in his chair. Victor, Othala and Crusader weren't as dangerous or as momentous a capture as Hookwolf or Purity would be, but their loss would be a distinct blow to the Empire all the same. Now, if only I could figure out why they all chose to go on a drunken bender on the same night.

He suspected he'd only learn the answer to that conundrum when Emily had them interrogated following their return to sobriety.

<><>​

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Kaiser

Max was partway through reading an evaluation report when his phone rang. The name that showed up in the Caller ID field alerted him to the fact that Hookwolf was on the line. That meant Empire business.

Putting down the report, he took up the phone. "Yes?"

"Yeah, it's me. Listen, you heard from Justin since last night? We were going to meet up this morning and go do a thing, but I haven't seen hide nor hair."

The phrase 'go do a thing' indicated that they'd been planning some kind of cape-related shenanigans, but Kaiser wasn't worried about that. Hookwolf was big enough and ugly enough to take care of himself and Crusader both. It was a little strange that the young man had flaked on an appointment with Bradley; by all accounts, the two had a rapport.

"I presume you tried his landline?" It was the first thing he thought of. If Justin had let his phone go flat, or lost it somewhere, his home phone would still work just fine.

"That and his cell. Left messages on both of 'em. Nada."

"Well, that's a problem." If Crusader was unavailable to Hookwolf, it meant he was just plain unavailable. "Wait a minute. Last night, he said he got a lift with Alex and Diane. He might've stayed at their place if his car wouldn't start. I'll give them a call now, and give him a piece of my mind about not having his cell on him at all times."

"Okay, yeah. Appreciate it."

Max ended the call, then accessed Victor's number. The man always answered by the third ring, even when he was in the shower. Not this time; it just rang and rang.

After ten rings, he ended the call then rang Othala's cell. It did exactly the same thing, the ringtone repeating over and over until he ended that call too. Just to check, he tried Crusader's cell, with exactly the same result as the other two.

A tiny worm of worry started twisting and turning in his gut. He took a few moments to find Victor's landline, and call that number. It also rang out. The worry was more pronounced as he accessed Krieg's number. This time, it only took one ring for the phone to be answered.

"Designated Solutions, James Fliescher speaking. How may I help you, Mr Anders?"

"Justin's not answering his cell," Max said briskly, "and neither are Alex and Diane. Would you have any idea why?"

There was a pause on the other end, one that Max judged was long enough for a puzzled thought process to go through. "No. I have no idea. Do you think something has happened to them?"

"I don't know yet. Reach out to the others in the social group. Make sure they're all well. Don't worry about Bradley; he's the one who called me about Justin."

"Understood. I will keep you posted." Krieg ended the call, leaving Max to lean back in his chair and try to unravel the problem in his own head. Unfortunately, he was remarkably devoid of clues.

Eventually, he called Bradley back. "There's more of a problem than we thought. Alex and Diane aren't answering either."

"Shit. That is a problem."

He didn't bother agreeing with the highly obvious statement. "James is checking on everyone else. Do a drive-past on their place, see whose cars are parked outside. Then check Justin's."

"I'll get right on that."

"Let me know what you find out." Max ended the call, frowning.

Empire capes had vanished before, but they were invariably new recruits who had decided they weren't cut out for the life—the politest term Hookwolf called them was 'weaksauce'—and skipped town in the middle of the night. But even though Crusader wasn't yet twenty-one, he was as dedicated to the cause as anyone in the Empire, and the idea that Victor or Othala might be having second thoughts was simply ludicrous. Which meant that something else was going on.

What it was, though, was a mystery to him. No cape battles had been reported by the news services, and PHO was making no mention of the PRT having captured any Empire capes overnight. Besides, the understanding had been that everyone would go home and have a quiet night in before resuming business as normal in the morning.

I don't know what this is, but I don't like it. Not one little bit.

<><>​

Around That Time; the PRT Building

Miss Militia

Hannah scanned the report of the previous night's apprehension of the Empire Eighty-Eight capes. Her eyebrows raised as she absorbed the information. "Drunk, in costume, driving a civilian car? Crashing into the bollards outside the building? Really?"

"That's what we've got to go on with," Director Piggot told her. "I agree; about the only way to make it easier to apprehend them would've been to call ahead to warn us they were coming, but they were definitely handed to us on a silver platter all the same."

Hannah pursed her lips under the bandanna. "Has the car been checked over?"

"With a fine-tooth comb." The Director shrugged. "Nothing. We even analysed the glove compartment lint, and it was nothing out of the ordinary. Deputy Director Renick put everyone on high alert last night, just in case, but it turned out to not be some kind of elaborate trap."

"And the MRIs came back positive." Hannah was looking at the section of the report showing the medical results.

"They did. The people we have in custody have active corona pollentias. They are capes. All the evidence we have indicates that they are who we've been led to believe they are." Director Piggot gave Hannah a tight-lipped smile. "All I need now is their side of the story. Because I really, truly want to hear their explanation for how they got to where we found them."

Hannah nodded. "I'll do what I can." She'd heard what Piggot hadn't said: It won't change the outcome, but I could do with a good laugh.

She took the report with her, as much for use as a prop as for reference, and entered the interrogation room. Already handcuffed to the table there was Othala, wearing prison orange instead of her bright red costume, though she'd been allowed to keep her eyepatch. She glared at Hannah as the latter seated herself, the current weapon an M1911 holstered at her hip.

Despite having an instinctive knowledge of how to use every weapon she could generate, Hannah had undergone sniper training, because there was more to putting steel on target than just shooting straight. She'd learned patience, stillness, and the ability to fade into the background until people almost forgot she was there.

If she spoke immediately, she knew Othala would shut down and refuse to interact. So instead, she reached into that skill, settling down to out-wait the other woman. Her breathing became deep and regular, as measured as a metronome. As Othala became more and more agitated, Hannah stilled her own reactions.

It took Othala less than three minutes to crack. "This is fucking bullshit!" she burst out.

"Have you been Mirandised?" asked Hannah.

"I've got no idea why I'm even—" Othala paused, taken aback by the question. "What?"

"Have you been read your rights yet?" Using two fingers, Hannah dropped a Miranda card on the table. Othala stared at it like a chicken hypnotised by a snake.

After blinking a few times, Othala apparently decided to brazen it out. "Wh-why would I need you to read my rights? I haven't done anything wrong."

"I'm just looking out for your best interests," Hannah said, deadpan. "Everyone's heard stories about people talking themselves into prison terms, right? If you haven't had your rights read to you, I can do it now."

From the way Othala's eye shifted, she'd definitely heard the stories. She visibly wavered back and forth between defiance and accepting Hannah's very reasonable offer, and finally settled on common sense. "Okay, fine," she huffed. "You're already treating me like I'm guilty. You might as well read me my rights. Even though I've got no idea what I'm supposed to have done."

"Good thinking. Better safe than sorry, and all that." Hannah took up the card, although she'd already memorised its contents. "You have the right to remain silent. If you choose to give up that right, anything you say can and will be taken down …"

Othala sat quietly through the reading, visibly trying to put up a brave front, though Hannah could see the way she was biting her lip. With each carefully enunciated line, the tension in Othala's jaw ratcheted up a notch. Hannah pretended not to see it, and she very carefully did not allow the smile she felt to cross her lips. Even though she had a bandanna across her face, it would still be visible to those who were looking hard enough, and she didn't want to risk Othala being just perceptive enough to notice.

Once she'd finished, she put the card down again. "Do you understand your rights as I have read them to you?"

Othala nodded jerkily. "Um, yes, but I still don't know what's going on. Am I under arrest? What happened? Why am I here? How did I get here? Where's my husband? Why are you reading me my rights? What am I supposed to have done?"

As Hannah had expected, reading Othala her rights had given her the chance to regather her thoughts and muster her defiance. This was all part of the plan; resistance couldn't be broken unless it was first brought into play. The whole idea was to set her up before knocking her down.

Hannah slid the card back into her pocket. "Okay, now we've got that sorted out, do you wish to exercise the right to be silent?"

She knew she'd hit the right note when Othala shook her head. "No! I want to know what's going on here! Where's my husband? Why am I under arrest? What am I charged with?"

"Alright then." Hannah leaned forward. "Diane Grayson … that's your name, right? At least, that's what your ID says." Opening the folder, she slid Othala's driver's license onto the table.

"Yeah, that's me." Othala did her best to give Hannah an intimidating glare. "So, answer my questions already."

"Diane Grayson," Hannah said formally. "You are under arrest for underage drinking, aiding and abetting in the attempted destruction of government property, and multiple crimes all connected to your activities as the supervillain Othala, including but not limited to felony murder, hate crimes and grand larceny. Your husband and your friend Justin are also in custody. We know your husband is Victor, and that Justin is Crusader, and they will be charged accordingly, except for the underage drinking."

"No." Othala shook her head frantically in a blatant attempt to hide her incipient panic. "That's bullshit! That's not true at all! I'm not Othala! Why would you even think that?" She paused. "Wait, underage drinking? Is that why I felt like shit when I woke up?"

Hannah nodded. "Tests gave you a zero point one blood alcohol content after we pulled you out of your husband's car. Crusader was on zero point one three, and your husband was on zero point one seven. Would you like to tell me why you chose to get drunk on your husband's bourbon and go cruising around town in full costume?"

Othala stared at her. "We did what?"

Hannah judged that she wasn't faking her disbelief, but didn't actually care. "Drove drunk, in full costume, then rammed the car into the barricades in front of this very building, apparently in an attempt to crash into the lobby."

She opened the folder and slid the photos out onto the table. They were screenshots of bodycam footage, and showed all three villains being hauled out of the wrecked car by armoured troopers. It was clear from the imagery that they were utterly wasted. The one of Othala vomiting into the gutter was particularly evocative.

"That's not me!" Othala's claim was as reflexive as it was pointless. "That's not us!"

Hannah allowed a steely note to creep into her voice. "I assure you, we can prove an unbroken chain of custody from the moment we pulled you out of the car to right now. The car is registered in your husband's name. And when we fingerprinted you, they matched the ones taken back when you went for that joyride with your friends at age fourteen. The people in those pictures are you and your friends." She paused. "What I'm curious about—what we're all curious about—is why you got drunk and went driving around in costume. What were you celebrating? The capture of Oni Lee? I mean, I can totally understand. Even as villains go, he's pretty scummy."

"No! I mean yes, he's a total asshole, but we hadn't been drinking. We were just driving back home from seeing friends. We weren't—I mean, I have no idea where those stupid costumes came from, or who put them on us."

Again, Hannah suspected the villain was being genuine about the confusion. Unfortunately for Othala, she still didn't care. "Well, that's interesting. We got a warrant earlier this morning, and we searched your homes … and found your spare costumes, along with enough evidence to identify you and your husband as members of the Empire Eighty-Eight several times over. Crusader is in much the same boat. So, what were you meeting with the rest of the Empire Eighty-Eight about?"

"Nothing," Othala said quickly, in exactly the tone of voice that meant 'something'. "I mean, we were seeing friends, not the Empire Eighty-Eight. And I don't know about any costumes. For all I know, you planted them."

Hannah raised an eyebrow. "Then you wouldn't mind giving me the names and phone numbers of the friends you were seeing, and you can guarantee they'd verify that you came over to meet them last night? And be able to tell me what you talked about?"

Finally, Othala saw the pitfall yawning in front of her, and behind as well. "I … uh, I want to exercise my right to be silent now. Also, I want a lawyer. And my phone call. You have to give me a phone call. It's the law."

"We can do all that, certainly." Hannah stood up and slid the photos back into the folder. "But think about this while you're sitting silently in your cell, waiting for us to arrange your lawyer and your phone call. Victor and Crusader have worse crimes against their names than you do. They're almost certainly going to ask for plea bargains, and that will involve testifying against other members of the Empire Eighty-Eight. Think about what Crusader's got on you, what he could prove against you." She walked to the door, then stopped and turned back with her hand on the handle. "The way this sort of thing works, whoever gets in first is the one who gets the deal. Everyone else is shit out of luck. Right now, you have a very narrow window of opportunity, and it's getting smaller by the second."

"I keep telling you, you've got the wrong people," Othala insisted, apparently forgetting her choice to stay silent. "I'm not Othala."

"So you say." Hannah tilted her head toward the door. "I'm going to speak with Crusader now. Let's see what he has to say about all this." With that, she opened the door and walked out, closing it behind her.

Director Piggot met her a little way down the corridor. "Think she'll cave?"

Hannah waggled her hand. "Seventy-thirty. She looked pretty worried a couple of times there, and if we can let her stew in her own juices for just a little longer, her lawyer will probably be able to convince her to take whatever plea-bargain the DA offers her. If she's smart."

The Director snorted and looked at the closed door of the interrogation room. "If."

"True."



End of Part Thirty-Five

 

[Ack]

One More Trigger

Part Thirty-Six: Drilling Down

[A/N 1: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

[A/N 2: There will be slurs by a racist character. These views do not reflect my own.]



Othala

Diane Grayson sat in the interrogation room, entirely ignoring the fact that she was handcuffed to the table. She didn't even care that there were almost certainly people watching her from behind the large mirror set into the wall across from her, or that the eyepatch she wore was the one she customarily sported in her villain persona, with the odal rune in red on the white leather. Miss Militia's words bounced around inside her skull, disarranging her thoughts until she couldn't string one to another.

Think about what Crusader's got on you, what he could prove against you. The way this sort of thing works, whoever gets in first is the one who gets the deal. Everyone else is shit out of luck.

She'd mustered the strength to deny her supervillain identity yet again—surely if she said it enough, they'd have to at least start doubting—but then the hero had left her with the most chilling statement of all.

I'm going to speak with Crusader now. Let's see what he has to say about all this.

She knew damn well Alex wouldn't say a word against her. That wasn't just a belief on her part, it was an article of faith. This was the sort of situation where he didn't just hold his own, but actively thrived.

But Miss Militia hadn't said jack about him. For a sand nigger, she was pretty damn bright. Justin was the weak link in the chain, and she knew it. Worse, he had history for this sort of thing.

Once upon a time, when they'd been sitting and waiting for a meeting to start, he'd shared his trigger event with them. He'd had a retarded sister, both physically and mentally, with health problems so bad that she required some kind of unspecified organ transplants to stay alive. As her brother, he was the closest genetic match, and he hadn't been really given a choice in the matter.

He'd tried to end both their problems by literally pulling the plug on her, but he'd been caught and in the ensuing round of accusations and guilt trips, he'd gotten powers. While he never talked about what happened after that, she had all the information she needed. When the going gets tough, he discards anyone he feels is holding him back, even family.

Right now, she was squarely in those crosshairs, complete with an itchy feeling right between her shoulderblades. For all that they'd been teammates for years and had each other's backs a hundred times, they'd never been in this specific situation. Just like her, he would be staring down the barrel of a prison sentence; even more so than her, because while she'd only ever been strictly support, he'd played an active role in every crime he'd been a part of.

She could even imagine Miss Militia's strategy with him. Looking at him out of a video screen (because only the terminally moronic would go face to face with someone they believed was Crusader if they didn't have to) she'd probably say something along the lines of, Victor and Othala are a married couple. They'll support each other, and throw you to the wolves.

Not that she would. She was loyal to the Empire, and to the people in it. Max knew that. Victor definitely knew it. Justin … should know it.

Normally, she'd never hear a word against him. He was a good teammate and solid in his support for the others. But (the treacherous voices in the back of her head said) …

… like her, he wasn't a combat cape. While he'd won any number of fights, he'd never gotten into them himself; his ghosts did all the fighting. He never had to worry about being punched in the face, or shot, or stabbed.

This was perhaps the first time that he'd actually had to face a serious problem himself, instead of interposing as many ghosts as he needed to between himself and the enemy. It was a highly unpleasant experience for her, and he had to be at least as unhappy about it as she was. In fact, he probably had it worse than she did, because she'd never had a power she could use to defend herself or attack others. He did have such a power, but was unable to use it now without outing himself.

He had to be feeling pretty damn vulnerable. She knew that because she was feeling vulnerable.

And Miss Militia was talking to him right now.

Fuck.

<><>​

Kaiser

About half an hour after Max got off the line with Hookwolf, the phone rang again. He saw as he picked it up that it was Krieg. "Well?" he asked as soon as he had the handset to his ear.

"We haff big problems." Krieg sounded actually flustered enough for his accent to slip through. "I sink Papa has zem. All sree."

"What?" Max shook his head. 'Papa' meant the PRT, by way of the phonetic alphabet. "No, that's not right. I've heard nothing." The PRT loved their victories; it should've been splashed all over the morning news. He paused, frowning. "And it doesn't even make sense. Justin had a thing he was planning to do today with Bradley, so he would've gone straight home to get some sleep."

"I didn't hear it directly." Krieg sounded slightly more under control. "I made contact with Alexander's people inside the building, just to see if they'd heard anything. Nothing specific about any grabs, but they have a car in holding that rammed the bollards last night. License plate matches Alexander's. The whisper is, the people in it were drunk. But that's everything they could tell me. There's an information blackout over anything else about the incident."

Max let Krieg's slight lapse in infosec go by, because there really was no good way to couch all of that in innocuous terms, and it was the sort of thing he needed to know yesterday. If he was reading between the lines correctly, all three of them had gotten drunk after leaving the Medhall meeting, and tried to ram-raid the PRT building. That wasn't the worst of it, or even close to the worst. A simple attempted ramming would also have made the news, but the fact that the PRT were making it need-to-know even inside the building, where normally it would be a case of 'how stupid were those dumbasses' around the water-cooler, meant there was another layer of fuckery going on.

There was only one thing it could be. The PRT knew who they were. Max closed his eyes.

Okay, think. Think.

Once the PRT figured out who they had ahold of, they would've raided their homes before the ink on the search warrants even had time to dry.

What would they find?

Costumes. That's something no lawyer can explain away.

That wasn't quite true: a really top-notch lawyer could pull off the 'cosplaying' gambit, but not with all three of them at once. Even the most lenient judge in the world would raise an eyebrow at that.

Motherfucker.

He had no idea what had possessed Victor and the others to do what Krieg said they'd done, but they'd done it, and now the shit was in the process of impacting the fan at transonic velocities.

Alexander Grayson—Victor—knew almost as much about the inner workings of Medhall as Max himself did, but he also had access to every anti-interrogation technique it was possible for someone to learn; Max wasn't worried about him.

Justin and Diane—Crusader and Othala—were another story altogether. He had no concerns about their loyalty to the cause. There was no way they would willingly give up Max or the Empire; the key word there being 'willingly'.

Both were young, and while neither of them had as much insight into the Empire as a whole as Max or Victor, both of them absolutely knew enough to rip the guts clear out of the ongoing masquerade. Every last secret identity, for one thing. And it was a cast-iron cinch that the PRT would be leaning on them very hard indeed for that information.

Max couldn't really blame them; he'd been flouting the law for years, after all. But that didn't mean he was willing to roll over and play dead for them now that they had hold of a thread that promised to unravel his whole organisation. If he could get his people back out of the clutches of the PRT before the interrogators broke them, it wouldn't get them their secret identities back, but he'd be able to maintain his own, and those of the rest of the Empire.

Failing that and as a last resort, the very precautions that the PRT used to make sure that their prisoners stayed prisoners should make it easier for his moles to ensure that they kept their mouths shut permanently. It wouldn't be his first choice, or even his second, but if he couldn't deal with the situation in any other way, his needs were absolutely going to trump theirs. And to be brutally honest, it was ultimately their fault; it wasn't like someone else had forced them to drunk-drive a car into the lobby of the PRT building.

Something was nagging at him, trying to grab his attention. He knew Krieg would be waiting for instructions, but he had to figure out what he was missing. It was important, he knew that much.

Seeking inspiration, he took the phone away from his ear and looked at it for a moment, and then the penny dropped. Shit, the PRT will have their phones! And I tried to call them!

Putting the phone back to his ear, he did his best to keep his voice calm, just in case there was someone listening in. "I think it's a good idea to discuss this in person in one hour, same venue as last night. Inform Bradley, please. Everyone goes to alternate phones. I'll put out the word to everyone else. See you soon." He ended the call, put the phone on the desk, and stared at it.

If the PRT had the phones of the absent members, then they would be going through what they could of them with a fine-tooth comb. Incoming calls would be tagged and backtraced, and the numbers retrieved. He had to assume that the phone he'd just been using, along with Krieg's and Hookwolf's, were irretrievably compromised. Hopefully, nobody else had tried to contact them.

Opening his desk drawer, he took out a burner phone and sent a mass text to everyone except the three captured capes, Hookwolf, and Krieg. Urgent face to face meeting, one hour, location 3B. Go to burners.

With luck, he decided as he extracted the SIM from the compromised phone, he would be able to contain the damage and get his people back before anything else happened.

<><>​

Winslow High, Between First and Second Period

Sparx

"Hey."

"Hey."

Emma bumped fists with Taylor, who was grinning broadly. She noted that Madison, next to Taylor, was also smirking. "You two look pleased with yourselves."

"We should," Madison agreed. "Everyone who left Medhall last night did it with leaf-bugs and booster bugs on their cars. Taylor got home addresses."

Taylor said nothing, but her level of pure smugness threatened to rival Lisa at her most obnoxious.

"Well, damn." Emma raised her eyebrows. "So, were we right? Option Four?"

Taylor nodded. "Either that, or one of them is also squatting in Max Anders' house." She rolled her eyes to show what she thought of that particular hypothesis. "The PRT's locked itself down tighter than a Protestant convent on St Patrick's Day, but the Empire's gotten wise anyway." She'd gotten that last one from a Dockworker called Gerry, once upon a time.

"Wise?" Emma frowned. "About what? That we did it?"

"No, that the PRT's got them." Taylor grinned. "You know how I was putting bugs on everyone? This morning, I heard a fascinating series of conversations between Max Anders and two people I'm pretty sure were Hookwolf and Krieg, from both ends of the call even." She handed a notebook to Emma. "Transcripts."

Emma's eyebrows rose toward her hairline as she read each line of the supposedly secure phone calls. "Well, that's definitely interesting, alright. Mads, have you read this?"

"Not yet. We were just getting to that bit." Madison accepted the notebook as Emma handed it to her. "Thanks."

"No problem. So, who do you think we should go after next?"

Taylor's grin morphed into an expression that would've made the average homicidal maniac back away slowly while making no sudden moves. "Oh, I've got ideas. But I'd like to discuss them with everyone else first."

Madison nodded. "I vote Stormtiger. He gives air manipulators a bad name."

Emma high-fived her. "As good a reason as any."

<><>​

Miss Militia

When the trooper led Othala into the interrogation room, Hannah was sitting across the table as though she'd never left. Holding the folder up like a book, she pretended to read the contents while Othala was secured back in place. Even after the trooper left the room, she affected not to notice for another thirty seconds, before putting the folder down.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Crusader had a lot to say." She hadn't been near Crusader, but Othala would never be able to prove it. The time had been mostly spent getting an earpiece fitted so information could be passed back and forth without the prisoner noticing.

"He's lying!" Othala blurted. "I never did anything!"

Hannah waited for fifteen seconds, then started to get up. "Not good enough, sorry."

"Wait! If he says I did stuff, he's lying! But I can tell you what he did!"

"We already know what he did in public," Hannah said patiently. "That's part and parcel of being a supervillain. If you're going to get any kind of plea bargain agreement, we're going to need a lot more than that."

As hints went, it was fairly broad, but it had the desired effect. Othala grimaced. "Okay, but I want to make a deal."

Hannah leaned back in her seat and raised an eyebrow. "You're not exactly in a position to force us to agree to any deals."

"Alex," Othala forced out. "Whatever I get out of this, he gets it too. Both of us or neither of us. That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

Hannah put on a thoughtful expression. "Nothing for Crusader?"

"If he's talking to you already, then fuck him." Othala's eye searched Hannah's face. "We got a deal?"

It was almost amusing to watch the tension build in the villain's expression as Hannah remained silently deadpan. She had to purse her lips to keep from smiling. "Hmm. So you're willing to waive your right to remain silent and your right to a lawyer?"

"Does Justin have a lawyer?"

Hannah solemnly shook her head. "No, he does not."

"Alright, then. What do I get if I talk to you?" She tried to hold up her hand, but the cuffs prevented the movement. "Wait, what's Justin asked for?"

"It doesn't work that way." Hannah inserted a chiding note into her voice. "That's between us and him. You have to work out your own deal."

"Okay, um, total amnesty for anything we might have done."

Hannah chuckled. "You know it doesn't work that way, either. Not unless you give us literally everything about the Empire Eighty-Eight. Names, dates, crimes that we don't know about yet, banking details, names of their moles in law enforcement. Everything we need to bring them down for good. That's worth total amnesty. Anything less just won't cut it."

"But … I don't know all that stuff." Othala was looking less happy by the second.

"Calm down, that's okay." Hannah opted for letting her down easy, rather than pushing harder. "Whatever you can help us with is good. Mainly, we're interested in confirming information we've already acquired from other sources. If it pans out, we'll definitely pass it on that you've willingly cooperated with us." She did her best to make it sound almost routine and boring. Yeah, yeah, you've agreed to talk. Let's see if you can make it worth our while.

"What information? Where did you get it? Was it Crusader?"

Hannah raised an eyebrow, noting the name shift. "I can neither confirm nor deny."

<><>​

A Little Earlier

Director Piggot's Office

"Ma'am, we may have a break in the Ram-Raid case."

Emily sat up a little straighter at Armsmaster's words. "Brief me."

"Someone tried to call Crusader's phone. I didn't answer it. There were three attempts, which gave me a good cut for location via cell towers. Then someone else tried to call Victor's and Othala's phones. Again, I got a good location cut. Same location. I've already been into Crusader's and Othala's phones; Victor's is a harder nut to crack. The one who called Crusader is down as Bradley in Othala's phone and Hooky in Crusader's phone."

He paused, and Emily smiled grimly. "Hookwolf. Bradley Meadows. You've got more. What is it? And where are these calls coming from?"

Armsmaster took a deep breath, audible over the phone. "The one who called Victor and Othala is down as Boss-Man in Crusader's phone, K in Victor's phone, and Max in Othala's phone. And the location all these calls came from is right over the top of the Medhall building.."

"Which is the recorded place of employment for all three of them." When she'd heard that piece of information, Emily had considered one of them working there as inconsequential and two as a possible coincidence, but all three was a pattern she couldn't afford to ignore. "So it's true. The Medhall corporation is an Empire Eighty-Eight front. Max Anders is Kaiser."

"That's what the information so far seems to point to, yes. I'm ninety-five percent sure of it. But …"

"But not one hundred percent." Emily let out a tiny sigh. "And Max Anders has pitbulls in three-piece suits who will bury us, legally speaking, if we make the accusation but can't get it to stick. Good work. Keep digging. Let me know when we've got enough to choke the pitbulls with."

"Will do, ma'am."

<><>​

Now

Othala

Diane stared at Miss Militia, trying to figure out how little she could get away with giving the woman. She didn't want to betray the Empire, but right now Max Anders wasn't staring down the barrel of a prison sentence, and she was. Worse, if she was reading correctly between the lines of what Miss Militia was saying, Justin was already trying to sell her out to keep himself out of prison.

Fuck that.

"What information are you talking about?" She tried to force a nonchalant tone. "If I don't know about it, I don't know about it."

"Well, we'll see. If you can't answer even basic questions, I might have to assume you're not interested in cooperating." Miss Militia's eyebrows rose slightly. "First question. Hookwolf's real name."

Diane had been braced for something like Max's name—he had to know she'd been taken by now, and was taking precautions—and the softball question caught her unawares. "Oh, uh, Bradley. Bradley Meadows." Wait, don't they know that one already?

"Good." Miss Militia ticked something off. "Purity's real name."

"Kayden Russel." Diane paused, feeling a twinge of remorse. "Not that she's in the team anymore. Walked away from us after she had Kaiser's kid. We still talk, but that's about it. Says she wants to go hero, or some crap like that."

"Mmm-hmm." It was like Miss Militia wasn't even listening. Tick, went the pen. "Night's name."

"Dorothy Schmidt. Creepy bitch. Her and her husband both."

Miss Militia tilted her head slightly. "Oh, so they are married? Hm. I think you just settled a bet between Assault and Velocity." She made a note in the file. "Cricket's name."

"Melody Jurist." Diane was starting to relax. As far as she knew, the PRT knew most of this stuff already. If it gets me what I want, I might as well play along.

It went on like that, touching on Fog, Stormtiger, Rune, Alabaster, Krieg, and the Biermann twins. Finally, Miss Militia looked up from the folder. "So, Kaiser would be Max Anders, then?"

Diane's head came up, and she stared at the Protectorate hero. "What—how did you know that?" She'd had some vague idea of holding out for a more definite offer of better treatment, but this pronouncement had taken the wind entirely out of her sails.

Miss Militia ticked off points on her fingers. "You, Crusader and Victor all work in the Medhall building. Kayden Russel is Max Anders' ex-wife, and you said she had a child by Kaiser. I've met Max Anders, and I've fought Kaiser. If they were not the same man, one would be dead by now. Neither one would accept having to take orders from the other."

"Oh." Well, she wasn't wrong. Kaiser could be proud to a fault. "Um. So, uh, does that help with me and Alex?"

"Absolutely." Miss Militia nodded firmly. "You're doing great. Of course, anything else you can give me would just improve matters."

On one level, Diane knew she was being played, but on the one that mattered, she didn't care. Any chance at all of keeping herself and Alex out of prison, she was going to grab with both hands. "Okay, um, let me think …"

<><>​

Medhall Sub-Basement

Kaiser

"So it's true?" demanded Hookwolf. "The PRT's got all three of them?"

"That's what I understand." Max was just as unhappy as Hookwolf sounded. "According to Victor's people in the building, his car is in impound after it rammed the bollards with drunk people on board. What I want to know is, what could have possessed them to perform such a ridiculous stunt? Crusader, I can just barely see doing it. Othala, less likely, and Victor, never."

Krieg nodded. "I have been thinking about it, and I suspect foul play."

"You mean they were Mastered." Stormtiger was on his feet, pacing back and forth. Odd breezes flitted through the room, stirring papers pinned to the corkboards.

"Perhaps." Krieg stuck to his guns. "Are there any human Masters in the city?"

Max shook his head. "Nobody who could Master three people at once, or do it at all at a moment's notice."

Cricket put her electronic larynx to her throat. "Regent can puppet people. You know, that annoying little shit from the Undersiders."

"Wouldn't be him." Alabaster sounded definite. "Worst I've ever heard of is that he can make people trip, or throw their guns away. Unless he's had a major power upgrade, he's not about to make three people get drunk then ram a car into the PRT headquarters. That's a long way out of his league."

"More to the point, why would he?" Max was fully aware that this question hung over every possible culprit in the matter. "Unless I'm missing something, we don't have any real beef with the Undersiders right now."

"Still running the dog fights," Hookwolf reminded him. "That gets Bitch's panties in a twist."

"It does not scan," objected Krieg. "If Bitch recruited Regent to come after us, then they would come after Hookwolf or Stormtiger or Cricket. Not after three capes who've never even attended a dogfight."

"An' if it was her," Stormtiger added, "she woulda made an example of them, not handed 'em over to the PRT. Nah, Krieg's right. Doesn't feel like the Undersiders."

"Well then, who?" Max was feeling more than a little irritated. He'd been hoping they'd be able to figure out who was pulling this shit on the Empire; that knowledge would've informed their next actions. Specifically, who to track down and gruesomely murder. "Some out of towner looking to cut in on our action, given that Lung and Coil are under lock and key?"

Hookwolf frowned. "Haven't heard of anyone coming in, but it'd have to be a whole team. Thinker to get themselves up to speed with the town and figure out who Victor and the others were, maybe a Tinker to grab 'em all by surprise, an' a Master to make 'em get drunk and drive into the bollards."

"Or it could be a local team." Krieg held up his hand to forestall the immediate protests. "Let us not miss the forest for the trees. Consider this: if we were to ignore the need for a Master to be involved, who would be our first suspect in the matter? Who is our most urgent concern at the moment?"

Max frowned. "The Samaritans, of course. They've run rampant over the villains inside the city, not to mention the Slaughterhouse Nine."

"Twice, even," Hookwolf just had to put in. "Most people didn't used to survive their first run-in with those assholes."

"Wait," Rune objected. "You think it's actually the Samaritans? What about the Master side of things?"

"We know they rammed the bollards, and that they were drunk. That is literally all we know at this moment." Krieg's tone was precise and measured. "Mastery is the simplest way that could have been achieved, but I doubt it is the only one. The Samaritans have built a strong reputation for resourcefulness and being able to meet any challenge at short notice. Do you honestly believe they could not have pulled that off?"

A silence fell over the table. Even Stormtiger stopped pacing. Max examined the concept from all angles and prodded it a few times before admitting in his own mind that it appeared to be sound.

"I have just one issue with this," he said eventually. "If we assume it was the Samaritans who did all this, and we redouble all our efforts to squashing the Samaritans, only to find out it wasn't them … what happens then?"

Krieg nodded in acknowledgement. "That is a distinct possibility, yes. But if that were the case, we would still be faced with two extant threats, and dealing with one of them is good, no matter which one we tackle first. If, on the other hand, it is the Samaritans doing this …" He let his voice trail off.

"… then if we gank those annoying little bitches, all this shit goes away." Hookwolf nodded. "Yeah, that works for me."

"So if it is them …" Menja began.

"… how do you think they're doing it?" finished Fenja.

Max curled his lip. "I'll be sure to ask the last one alive, just before we consign her to a shallow grave." He waited until the table-slapping and other sounds of approbation died down before raising his voice. "Next order of business. Victor, Othala and Crusader have been in PRT custody for approximately twelve hours. Part of that undoubtedly was taken up with recovering from a drunken stupor, but we have to assume that they're being vigorously interrogated. What are the chances that they'll break?"

Alabaster shook his head. "Victor, not a goddamn chance in hell. He's more likely to end up with stuff about them."

"True." Krieg frowned. "Crusader is just stubborn enough to hold out, even to his own detriment. I have my doubts, however, about Othala."

"Hey, O's staunch!" objected Rune. "She'd never give us up!" She gestured around the table. "She's been there for all of us! Healed us, given us boosts, helped us win fights! You can't just write her off like that!"

"Nobody's writing her off." Max gave her a serious look. "However, she's the next youngest member of the team after you, and she's never had to go head-to-head with law enforcement. You wouldn't break; you've been incarcerated before. But she doesn't know the little psychological tricks they can pull. If they made her believe, for instance, that Victor had turned on her to get a lighter sentence, that might get to her."

"Wouldn't work." Alabaster made a scissoring motion with his hands. "She'd never believe that. But if they told her that Crusader was fucking her over to get off easy …" He spread his hands. "She might just fall for it."

"Let's put a pin in that for a moment." Max steepled his fingers. "There are two other security issues that need to be addressed. Hookwolf, Krieg; you both called their phones. This means the PRT has your numbers. Has anyone else tried to call them since last night?"

After a moment, Rune's hand went up. "After Krieg called, asking me if I'd heard from O, I sent her a text, but she never replied. Just 'Hey, girl, whassup?'."

"Dump the SIM," Max said bluntly. "That one's almost certainly got a trace on it by now. Anyone else?"

Nobody answered, which he took as a good sign. Rune, Hookwolf and Krieg all pulled their phones out and set about extracting the SIM cards, not without a little grumbling from the teenager. Ignoring her, Alabaster turned to Max. "You said two security issues. What's the other one?"

"Medhall." Max gestured at the ceiling. "All three of them work here. I'd wager even Director Piggot at her most oblivious is likely to find something suspicious in that."

Krieg looked up from his phone. "As I recall, that was your idea. 'Keep everything in-house', I believe was your phrasing at the time."

"Well, what's done is done." Max smoothly pivoted away from what he'd been about to say. "Pointing fingers isn't going to do anyone any good. We need to figure out where we go from here. How do we deflect official attention away from Medhall?" And away from me, he didn't quite say.

"Might be harder than we think." Alabaster sat forward. "Getting back to Othala maybe spilling the beans, it doesn't matter what we do on our end if she's feeding them what they need to know on their end."

Max hadn't wanted to raise that specific topic; not from squeamishness or any particular attachment to Othala, but because it was easier to run the show if the others didn't think he was willing to discard them at the drop of a hat. Now that it had been introduced, of course, he jumped right onto it. "Go on."

"Well, it's simple," Alabaster said after a momentary pause. "We can say no all we like, but if she's telling them yes, they'll just keep looking. So we've either gotta totally discredit her somehow, or just plain take her away from the PRT. Maybe both."

Max leaned back in his chair and affected a thoughtful pose. "And when you say, 'take her away from the PRT' …?"

Rune broke in from across the table. "Rescue, duh. What did you think he was talking about?" She paused, belatedly remembering who she was addressing. "Uh, sir."

"And what if it's impossible to rescue her?" asked Hookwolf. "If the PRT knows who they've got their hands on, that place'll be more watertight than a duck's butthole. Even if we busted in, we'd have no idea which cells they're in." He looked over at Krieg. "Can Victor's moles get them out?"

Krieg grimaced. "Get them out? Unlikely. Right now, that information is need to know, and they're not high enough in the food chain to have that need. We'd burn all of them if we attempted a breakout from inside, with a low probability of success."

"Recorded testimony's one thing, but getting an actual witness on the stand is solid gold for judges and juries, right?" Alabaster said, looking around the table. "What if we just, you know, cut our losses? Had the moles remove the witness?"

"What the fuck?" Rune came to her feet. "You're saying we should murder Othala? Shut her up by killing her, just because it's more convenient that way? Is that what you're saying?"

"Sit! Down!" Max's voice crackled across the room. Despite her agitation, the teenager dropped back into her seat without hesitation. "The course of action Alabaster is suggesting isn't more convenient. In fact, it's seriously inconvenient. As you say, Othala is a valued member of the team. Her power has helped us all at one point or another. Victor would be devastated at her loss. But."

There was silence for a moment, then Rune ventured the question. "But …?"

Max took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "But we're up against the wall, here. There are no good options, and even the bad ones are going to be difficult to pull off. If we do nothing, or if we don't try hard enough, the Empire falls. Medhall will be gone, and with it most of our resources. Our secret identities, gone. Everything we have, crumbled to dust. Do you truly want that?"

"You know I don't!" She glared at him, apparently forgetting again that he was in charge. "Why don't we just bust in there and take them away from the PRT? I can totally put a ten-ton block of concrete clean through the wall if I have to."

"Because we don't have the intel we need, and even if we did, we haven't got the heavy hitters to get in there and out again." There. It was out in the open. "Victor could worm the intel out of their computer systems, and Crusader could infiltrate the building with ghosts and find any prisoners we wanted, but they're the ones in there. This is why we've always waited until Hookwolf was on the Birdcage transport before springing him."

"Purity could do it." Rune hadn't backed down yet. This was a level of attitude that he was going to have to address at some point. "And if she brought Night and Fog in to help, it would be even easier."

"Are you not listening? I've been trying to tell you—wait." He paused as what she'd said finally registered with him. "Purity?"

Rune was right, he realised. Purity—Kayden—would absolutely add enough firepower to the team to allow them to spring the other three from durance vile, especially if (as Rune had suggested) Night and Fog came in on it as well.

Krieg nodded approvingly. "Her presence would definitely change matters, yes. You should perhaps give her a call."

"Fine," he agreed. "I will." And if she says no, then she's the bad guy and not me.

Of course, he knew exactly which buttons to press to make sure she didn't. Because he was very, very good at motivating people.

<><>​

Purity

When the phone rang, Kayden snatched it up in case it woke Aster. Her daughter slept on undisturbed, so Kayden stepped into the kitchen and put the phone to her ear. The number on the caller ID was unknown to her, so she was braced to give an earful to the person on the other end if they turned out to be a telemarketer. "Hello?"

"Good morning. Have I called at a bad time?" Max's voice was jovial, which rang rather loud alarm bells in her mind. Her ex-husband was never this cheerful, unless he either wanted something or had just gotten what he wanted.

"Not really. Aster's just gone down. What do you want?" She tried not to sound curt, but it wasn't easy.

"Oh, good. We have a slight problem, and I'm hoping you can help us with it. Last night, Alex, Diane and Justin ended up in a little trouble. They need to be extracted from Papa's house before difficult questions get asked and answered."

"How did—no, never mind." Kayden eased the kitchen door most of the way closed, so she could keep an eye on Aster and talk at the same time. "What part do you see me playing in this scenario?"

He chuckled lightly. "What you're best at." Which meant blowing large holes in buildings.

Kayden hesitated. She wanted to just tell him no and end the call before he inevitably talked her into his latest ill-advised scheme, but the question nagged at her. "What's your plan for if I'm unavailable?"

His tone became a lot more serious. "Without you, we can't realistically pull it off. If they stay where they are, the odds that one or more of them will get loose lips—probably Diane—get higher all the time. And if that happens, a lot of information about our social club gets spread far and wide, including who you are. I'm sure that CPS would be thoroughly unreasonable about allowing custody to certain people. Nobody wants to go there."

He was right, she realised as a chill seized her heart. Any information leaks about the Empire Eighty-Eight would inevitably out her at the same time. They would absolutely try to take Aster away from her.

I'll kill them all first. It didn't matter who 'they' were. If they tried to take her daughter, they would die.

"So, what's plan B then? I know you, Max. You always have a plan B."

He was really good at the whole 'regretful necessity' tone. If she hadn't heard it a thousand times before, she might even have bought it. "After some discussion, it was decided that for the good of the social club, if we had no other options, we might have to remove the problem from consideration."

His weasel-wording was so smooth that she took a couple of seconds to decipher it. "You mean you'd have her taken care of."

"It certainly wouldn't be my first choice." He sounded so sincere, she almost believed him. "Unfortunately, sometimes hard decisions have to be made, especially when you're caught between two unpalatable options. Would you truly choose to endanger Aster to save her life? Because that's what it comes down to."

Her grip on the phone was so tight, the plastic creaked in her hand. She knew without looking that her knuckles were white. "Goddamn it, Max. Fuck you with a rusty garden fork. I'm trying to be a hero here, and I'm really making headway now that the opposition is behind bars. But if I do this for you, all that goes away."

"Are you blaming me for whatever they did to end up where they are? Because I really don't think that's fair." He didn't even have to try for injured innocence that time, because (irritatingly enough) it was actually justified. "I certainly didn't plan this. We're still not totally sure how it happened, though our current theory is that the Samaritans did it. So if you want to blame anyone, blame them."

She slid to her knees, teeth clenched and eyes shut tight, wishing she was callous enough to condemn Othala to death and be fine with it. But she wasn't. The Empire Eighty-Eight had been her only family for far too long, and she still considered Diane to be her friend.

"When?" she forced out. She knew she was abandoning her dream of being a hero, but that was Max all over; he was good at fucking up dreams for people.

"Noon shift change. I'll put Theo in a cab to your apartment, to watch Aster. You can take it back to the Medhall building. We'll go over the final plan then, and hit them while they still think we know nothing. Oh, and can you get Night and Fog in on this too?"

Kayden hesitated. Geoff and Dorothy were just a phone call away, and would definitely come along if she asked. But they were even less concerned about the sanctity of human life than the rest of the Empire. Any innocent bystanders would be in grave danger, just for being nearby.

On the other hand, the margin between success and failure could easily be dictated by whether they were there or not. And she did not want her door to be kicked in one day while she was out, and Aster just … taken. The very notion made her want to kill something.

In for a penny, in for a pound. "… fine," she said, on the tail end of a sigh. "I'll get them in on it too."

"Excellent." She could just tell he was beaming. Why wouldn't he be? He'd gotten what he wanted, after all. "I'll see you soon, then."

<><>​

Ladybug

About halfway through World Issues, with Mr Gladly waffling on about how the 2003 trade deficit between Indonesia and Australia had led to political changes in both nations, I began to get the impression that something was shaping up to be very wrong indeed.

As a matter of course, I'd kept tabs on all the members of the Empire that we'd located and identified, and I'd noticed a pattern of movement that was quite concerning. Kaiser was already in the Medhall building, but he'd sent a text and then gone down within the building to an area well below ground level; the same place Crusader, Victor and Othala had gone on the previous night. Again, he went through the rigmarole of covering himself with bug spray. I'd anticipated this and left the booster bug in his office, but a couple of leaf-bugs had made the trip down with him.

Other members of the Empire whom I'd already marked with leaf-bugs came in to join him, some from outside and a couple from within the building. I couldn't listen in on the discussion because leaf-bugs were good at hiding and avoiding bug spray, not espionage. However, I did have one detach itself from each person and scuttle across the floor, up the wall and along the ceiling until they were directly over the table.

Any one bug had terrible eyesight, but I was figuring out how to get a gestalt of what they saw and form a single not-so-bad image out of it, after I'd read how astronomers could use a bunch of telescopes spread over a wide area to simulate a single scope with much better angular resolution. And I really, really wanted to know what they were looking at on the table.

While I was still figuring that one out, three more people arrived and made their way down into the sub-basement. Hastily, I shoved leaf-bugs onto them as well, and tried to figure out what was going on.

There were two women, one of whom was quite petite, and one man. He and the taller woman seemed to be together. When Kaiser kissed the petite woman, I had my clue. This had to be Purity, and the last pair would be Night and Fog.

We'd thought Purity had separated herself from the Empire, but here she was, attending a planning session. Why hadn't she come to the one last night? And why were Night and Fog here?

Then Kaiser leaned over the table and tapped the big sheet of paper in the middle, just as I finally managed to get my ceiling bugs to focus properly on it.

I was looking at a plan of the PRT building.

What they were saying was out of my reach, thanks to the bug-spray precaution, but I was pretty sure this wasn't a meeting of the local Architectural Appreciation Society. I was already aware that the Empire knew where their three missing members had disappeared to. From this, it looked like they were planning to go break them out, and Kaiser had somehow roped in Purity, Night, and Fog as extra muscle.

Well, crap.



End of Part Thirty-Six

 

[Ack]

One More Trigger

Part Thirty-Seven: Pushback

[A/N 1: Due to significant discussion regarding Purity in the last chapter, I've decided to put up the next chapter for this fic early.]

[A/N 2: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]



Purity

"Here you are, folks." The cabbie pulled up in the taxi drop-off zone outside the Medhall building. If he was a little abrupt with the braking, Kayden didn't mind. Even on their best behaviour, Geoff and Dorothy were more than a little creepy, and he'd spent the majority of the trip glancing in the rearview mirror.

"Thanks." She paid the fare displayed on the meter, then handed him an extra twenty for a tip. He could've decided 'to hell with the fare' and kicked them out somewhere along the way, but he hadn't, which was a good thing. She probably would have had to argue them into not killing him, risking Max's displeasure at the delay. "Have a good day."

"You too, lady." Now that the trip was over and they were getting out of his vehicle, the taxi driver seemed to be relaxing slightly. "Thanks for the tip." But he still took off the moment the doors were shut, not even waiting for an appropriately large gap between cars. A few horns blew and brakes squealed, but he made it into the flow of traffic unscathed.

Kayden drew a deep breath, then let it out as she turned to the other two. "Okay, I need to talk to you about what we're going to be doing."

"Going to the PRT building," Geoff said immediately.

"Ensuring that the PRT can't interrogate Othala, Crusader or Victor," Dorothy added.

"I could go in through the air vents," Geoff offered. "No extraction required. They would just die. The PRT can't interrogate dead people."

"No!" She belatedly realised that her voice had been sharp enough to draw attention, which was the last thing she wanted to do, so she deliberately moderated her tone. "No. We are not going to be killing them. We are breaking them out of holding. Getting them out alive."

Dorothy tilted her head. "Killing them would be easier and quicker."

For a moment, Kayden wondered if this had been Max's plan all along; asking her to help break Othala out, then 'suggesting' that Night and Fog attend as well. He knew their bloodthirsty tendencies all too well. That sort of thing could be useful when up against adversaries who needed to die now, but she was trying to be a goddamn hero, and heroes didn't just murder innocents, or friends.

There was another mental jolt as she recalled that acceding to this … expedition? Excursion? Mission? Whatever the hell it was, once her unmistakeable power signature was seen to be part of the Empire attack on the PRT building, all the work she'd put into being a hero would be gone. The world would forever see her as a villain again.

Fuck you, Max. Why do you keep doing this to me?

The answer, after a few seconds of reflection, was simple. Because he can. Max Anders delighted in sticking his fingers into other people's lives and bending them to his personal whims.

"No killing," she said. "We're here to get them out, not to kill them."

Geoff smiled, a thoroughly unsettling expression. "Then we will kill everyone else, yes? It is an unavoidable circumstance. We either kill them, or the PRT guards holding them."

"No," she said again, prompted by the last dying echoes of her desire to be a hero. "We don't kill the guards, either. We can stop them without killing them."

"The PRT will be trying to kill us," Dorothy said in the same tone as someone else might say, 'the opposing team will be trying to score points'. "We should kill them first."

Kayden had been worried about this. "If we do that, then there's a good chance we'll all get kill orders." She didn't think that would really happen, but God only knew how the PRT would actually react to a bloodbath inside one of their own buildings.

Geoff, predictably, had an answer to that one too. "Not if there are no witnesses."

Kayden pinched the bridge of her nose, wondering if she should've simply dumped her entire life down the drain and gone on the run with Aster instead of participating in this venture. Her common sense kicked in a moment later, reminding her that an adult with an infant was far more conspicuous than one without. Her bank accounts would either be drained or frozen in short order, and very young children had a vast range of health and nutritional needs that simply could not be ignored. From that moment on, her choices would range between committing crimes just to eat (and to feed Aster), crawling back to Brockton Bay (and Max) with her tail between her legs, and turning herself in to the untender mercies of the PRT: none of which appealed.

Every time she'd tried contacting the PRT with the information that she was turning to the hero side and would they please stop shooting at her, she either got no response at all or a curt directive to hand herself over for arrest and trial with no special treatment. From this, she figured that telling them about Aster would be a mistake of the highest degree, and that even if she went to another city, the Director there would back Piggot up. That was how law enforcement operated, after all.

"No. We do not kill the guards," she said, trying again to get through to them. "We do not kill any witnesses. Is that understood?"

"That is understood," Geoff said, echoed a moment later by Dorothy.

Kayden had her doubts, but she figured that was the best she would get. Turning, she led the way up the steps to the front entrance of the Medhall building.

Entirely unnoticed by all three of them, tiny bugs settled on their clothing and changed colour immediately to blend in.

<><>​

Aerodyne

The first Madison knew about anything amiss was when a fly came buzzing around her face. That wasn't particularly unusual, except when her teammate—who could control insects—was in the same classroom. Then Taylor put up her hand and cleared her throat. "Mr Gladly? I need to go to the washroom, bad."

He frowned, which wasn't totally surprising. Mr Gladly seemed to think of his classes as exhibitions of how to teach properly, and he didn't want his students to miss any part of the experience. "Are you sure you can't hold it, Taylor?"

"I'm certain, Mr Gladly." Taylor put on a grimace of her own. "It's, uh, girl problems."

He visibly flinched. "Ah, right. Go, go. You're, uh, alright? You have, uh, supplies?"

That was Madison's cue. "I've got some, Mr Gladly. I'll take her there and make sure she's okay."

"Yeah, thanks, Madison." Taylor threw in a wince as she got up from her desk. "I really appreciate it."

Before he could change his mind about Madison also missing out on his sublime teaching skills, they were out the door and heading up the stairs toward the girls' washroom. They'd made it up one flight of stairs before Madison decided to make sure of her suspicions, and glanced at Taylor. "You don't really need, uh, supplies, do you? Because I don't actually have any."

"Nope," Taylor confirmed briskly. "I'm all good on that front. But I need to make an urgent phone call, and I'm pretty sure Gladly would've noticed that. You know, eventually."

Madison snorted. Mr Gladly did have a talent for becoming engrossed in his own awesomeness as a teacher. "So, what's the big problem?"

"Second Star Wars movie." Taylor kept moving. Her long legs gave her a totally unfair advantage, making Madison work twice as hard just to keep up with her. Fortunately, the ongoing cardio training under the Dad Brigade was exactly what she needed for that.

All the same, they hit the top of the steps before Madison figured out what Taylor actually meant with her cryptic statement. All three of them had decided unanimously that the prequel trilogy wasn't 'real' Star Wars, which meant Taylor was referring to … "Shit, the Empire's doing something?"

"That's my understanding. Do me a favour and keep a lookout?" Taylor ducked into the washroom with Madison right behind her, then pulled out her phone.

"What about Emma?" asked Madison. "She needs to know about this too."

"I texted her and Dad before I put my hand up. If you can call your dad to come pick us up, that'd be great." Taylor called up a number on her phone, then put the phone to her ear. "Hi, this is Ladybug of the Samaritans. I need to speak to Director Piggot, please. Yes, it's urgent. Yes, I can wait."

<><>​

Director's Office, PRT ENE

Up until now, the Samaritans' unofficial spokesperson had apparently been Sparx, so when Emily was informed that a phone call was coming in from Ladybug, it was the first indication that something untoward was happening. Still, despite her differences with the team—mainly to do with their (possibly) accidental poaching of at least one of her Wards—they were still nominally heroes. More to the point, they were very good at what they did, as demonstrated by the cutting-out expedition that had extracted Oni Lee from within what had remained of ABB territory. So, she was definitely interested in hearing what Ladybug had to say.

"Director's office, you have Director Piggot. I'm speaking to Ladybug?"

"That's correct." It sounded like what she knew of Ladybug's voice. "Director Piggot, you've got a big problem. Right now, we're putting together a response, but we're going to be necessarily delayed. The Empire knows you've got Victor, Othala and Crusader, and from what we're able to discern, they're prepping to hit you very soon to take their teammates back."

Emily didn't bother taking notes; the phone call was already being recorded as a matter of course. "I have questions. First: how do they know? Second, how do you know? Third, how do you know what they're doing?"

Ladybug didn't miss a beat. "Victor has moles inside your building—"

"Wait," Emily interrupted. "How many? What are their names? How do you know this?"

"Sorry, don't know how many or what their names are, just that Krieg contacted them this morning and pieced together enough information to determine that Victor and the others were in your custody. We already knew about it because we're just that good. As for the third question, they had a meeting last night in a sub-basement of the Medhall building—the entire company's an Empire front, by the way—"

"Yes. We're aware of that." Emily took sour satisfaction in spoiling the big reveal.

"Oh. Good. One more thing we don't have to fill you in on. Anyway, they're meeting there right now, but they've called in three more people who weren't there last night. I don't know for certain, but from general appearance and the fact that they went straight down to the meeting area, I would guess that they're Purity, Night and Fog. As we speak, they're all looking over a floor plan of the PRT building, and Kaiser is giving instructions."

That said exactly one thing to Emily: the Empire was planning a full-on assault of the PRT building. Pulling out her second desk drawer, she eyed the row of three rectangular buttons on the panel within. Currently, the green one was glowing steadily, but when she pushed the yellow one, it clicked in and lit up in turn. Discreet alarms would be sounding throughout the building, and the exterior doors would be no longer opening to admit visitors. 'Red' threat posture would lock the building down and bring all personnel to immediate high alert.

"Thank you for the warning, but if you were spying on their meeting last night and you knew who they were then, why haven't you yet come to us with that information? Why are you only talking to us now?"

Ladybug didn't seem fazed by the implied accusation. "We wanted to make sure we could verify everything before we handed them over to you. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Yes. Were you the ones who captured Victor, Othala, and Crusader and gift-wrapped them for us?" Ladybug had dodged the question before, and Emily couldn't see how they might have done it even with that diverse set of powers. However, she could add two and two with the best of them, and the Samaritans seemed to add up to a big fat 'four'.

"As I said, Director, we're just that good." The call ended on that ambiguous note, but Emily was no longer interested in pursuing a more definitive answer.

Reaching over to her desk intercom panel, she hit the all-units address button. "Attention. This is the Director speaking. You will have no doubt noted the yellow alert. All off-duty troopers are to armour up and report for duty. All administrative staff are to close down their workstations and evacuate the building now. Lobby guards are to usher all visitors out of the building and enact full lockdown. As soon as all non-essential personnel are offsite, we will be transitioning to alert status red. This is not a drill. I say again, this is not a drill. Piggot, out."

Fully aware that she'd just kicked the anthill, for which she would be probably called to account later on, she took up her phone and speed-dialled a particular number.

"Director?" responded Armsmaster. "What's the situation? Does this have to do with our recently acquired prisoners?"

"It does." She took a moment to appreciate the fact that he'd thought things through that far. "I just got a phone call from Ladybug of the Samaritans, warning us of an assault in force from the Empire Eighty-Eight, most likely to break their comrades free. Purity, Night, and Fog are also strongly suspected to be in on this. They were still in the planning stage as of thirty seconds ago, which means we've got at least the travel time between the Medhall building—that connection is confirmed, by the way—and here to prepare."

"Understood." There was no trepidation in his voice. "Are the Samaritans likely to be assisting?"

"The implication was that they are, but they were also caught on the back foot. Sparx usually handles these calls. They might not get here before the Empire does." She took a deep breath. "Ladybug also positively stated that we have Empire moles in the building, run by Victor. I want you to devote all your resources toward cracking his phone and identifying them before the Empire gets here. The last thing we want is a mole opening a sealed door or tossing a grenade in the wrong direction. Find them, and take them out of play."

"Understood, ma'am."

"Good. Piggot, out." She ended the call and took a deep breath before moving to the next item on her mental checklist. Another number was called up on the phone. "Major Lorimar. What is the status of the special-situation prisoners?"

"Prisoner Oscar is currently in interrogation, ma'am. Eyeball checks indicate that the other two are present and in good health. What are your orders?"

"Foam them. Fill the cells. Once Oscar is returned to your level, foam her into her cell too. Then set up a defensive perimeter in the detention level. I will be instituting full lockdown in short order. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am. Entirely understood." If he was dubious about his orders, she didn't hear it in his voice. "Was there anything else, ma'am?"

"No, Major. Carry out your orders. Piggot, out." She ended the call, then called up Miss Militia's number. Getting her ducks in a row was often an arduous task, but it was worth it in the end.

<><>​

Computer Studies Class

Sparx

The message from Taylor was short and to the point. Prob w E88. Contacting Dads.

Emma knew what this meant. Covertly, she slid her notebook into her backpack and began to clear her computer desktop, saving her work as she went. She was almost done when the expected call came over the antiquated PA system. "Emma Barnes … please report to the principal's office. Emma Barnes … please report to the principal's office."

"Ooh," murmured one of the other girls, Laura someone. "You're in trou-ble …"

Ignoring her, Emma finished clearing the desktop and shut the computer down. She swung her backpack onto her shoulder and gave Mrs Knott a bright smile. "I'm sure it's nothing serious."

This didn't wholly convince the teacher. "It's probably a good idea not to keep them waiting, dear."

"I'm going, I'm going." Emma slipped out through the door and closed it behind her. The call for Taylor came when she was halfway to the office, and the one for Madison when she got there. It wasn't a perfect system, but with any luck people wouldn't connect the three calls to the office with each other, or with the Samaritans.

"Ms Barnes," the principal's secretary said once she got there, "we received a call from your father. It appears there's a family situation, and he needs to take you out of the school today."

"Oh, no!" She was very good at feigning distress, even if she did say so herself. "Did he say what's happened?"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't privy to that information." Giving her a smile of faked sympathy, the woman gestured to the industrial-grade uncomfortable plastic chairs that lined the wall of the office. "You can wait there until he arrives."

Emma's return smile was equally fake, but looked much more genuine; she'd worked at making it so. "I've got a better idea. I'll wait out at the front."

Before the secretary could muster an objection, she left the office again, heading for the front steps. From that point on, it was just a waiting game.

<><>​

Ladybug

Madison and I ducked back into Mr Gladly's classroom just ahead of the announcement calling me to the office (not that he knew it was coming). I shot him a grateful smile and slid back into my desk. Leaning across to the person in the next row, Shane someone, I asked quietly, "So, what'd I miss?"

"Wow, you actually came back?" He seemed honestly surprised. "If I was a chick, I'd use that excuse to ditch class for the rest of the day. Maybe the rest of the week."

"Trust me, the thought crossed my mind." I angled my head toward the blackboard. "What's happening now?"

"Uh, the economic aftereffects of Behemoth's attack on Jakarta in 'ninety-four, and how it made the trade thing even worse than it should have."

"Oh, right." Just as the PA system crackled, I opened my textbook. I pretended not to hear my name the first time around, then I looked up and frowned. "Is that for me? Really? Did someone see me going to the washroom and report me or something?"

"Well, if they did, I'm next," quipped Madison as I closed my textbook.

Mr Gladly looked pained at the interruption. "If we can have some quiet, please, Ms Clements?"

"Sorry, Mr G. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't. Ms Hebert, you may as well take your books with you. Whatever they need you for, I doubt you'll be back before lunch."

"Sorry about this, Mr Gladly." I slid my textbook into my bag as I stood up again. "I guess this just isn't my day." Without waiting for his response, I escaped from the classroom and headed off down the corridor. I may have outwardly seemed to be just another normal teen making her way to the principal's office, but mentally I was very busy indeed.

From the moment I'd picked up on the new threat, I'd been mustering bugs from all over the city into two gigantic (if covert) swarms. The first was going to be focused around the Medhall building, while the second was converging on the PRT building. I already had booster bugs around Medhall, but they were less important than the ketamine bugs that I still only had a few hives of, and none anywhere near Downtown.

Leaving only the breeding females behind, I'd emptied those hives of every bug that could fly and deliver a payload, and set them off on their trek across town. They couldn't fly all that way, not in the timeframe I needed them to, so Dad was going to have to play bug chauffeur again. I just hoped we could get there in time for it to do any good.

As for the booster bugs around Medhall, they picked up the timely arrival of Velocity, who seemed to be conducting his patrol in the very close vicinity of that building. It was good to see that the PRT was actually taking my warning seriously. If Director Piggot had chosen to ignore me, events would be taking a distinct downturn in the very near future.

I had no guarantee that they wouldn't anyway, but at least we were doing something about it.

<><>​

Medhall Sub-Basement

Purity

"So, you all know your roles?" Max looked around the room at the members of his team. Kayden got the impression that it was a rhetorical question. The subtext was that after that presentation, nobody should be in any doubt about where they were going and what they were doing. "Bradley, how's it going with gathering the troops?"

"Fine." Hookwolf tilted his head slightly. "I've got 'em converging on the PRT building, but keeping things quiet until we get there. We bust in the front doors and our guys will swamp the guards in the lobby before they know what hit 'em."

"We have a problem." That was Krieg. "One of Victor's moles just reported in. Piggot's called a Yellow Alert, and she's getting all non-essentials out of the building. I think they know we're coming."

All eyes turned to Max; he shook his head confidently. "That's impossible. There's no way they can know what we're doing."

"They have got three of our own," Stormtiger reminded him, just before Kayden would've said the same thing.

Max looked like he was suppressing the impulse to pinch the bridge of his nose. This wasn't surprising; he hated being contradicted. "I'm aware of that, Lars, thank you very much. But it doesn't matter. It wouldn't matter even if they'd broken Victor and he was singing like a goddamn canary. They don't know what we're doing here, because he doesn't know what we're doing here. All he knows, all any of them know, is that we were making plans last night for dealing with the Samaritans. Nothing more."

"Was it in this room, too?" Kayden looked around. "Just checking."

That earned her an aggravated sigh from Max. "Yes, it was, but let's be realistic here. Even if Victor told them exactly where this room was, there is no conceivable way on Earth that they could've gotten any kind of surveillance device in here in the meantime. More to the point, if they knew where we were, they would've hit us as soon as we came down here today. So, they don't know. Understood?"

"Okay, I'll bite," Alabaster said flippantly. "If they aren't listening in on our every word, why are they going to Yellow Alert?"

"Drill." Rune had a coin with her energy signature inscribed on it, and now she made it spin in front of her. "It's gotta be, yeah? They've captured our guys before—okay, mainly Hookwolf, but he still counts—and they never locked down for them. This is probably Piggot keeping everyone on their toes by making them jump through a few hoops, make sure they don't get too confident, just because they've captured three members of the Empire." She rolled her eyes for emphasis.

"Exactly." Max pointed at her. "Well done, Tammi. You've hit the nail on the head. That's almost certainly what's going on. And in fact, it's likely to work in our favour."

Hookwolf leaned back in his chair. "How's that?"

Max frowned, like he expected everyone to have read his mind. This was one of his more annoying habits, especially when coupled with the tendency to act on his own decisions and expecting everyone around him to keep up. "It's simple. Drills disrupt everything. Nobody's going to be watching cameras, everyone's going to be running around pretending there's an emergency. And once they've finished their drill, there'll be a window where everyone's out of place and nobody knows what's going on. We can make use of that."

Kayden had to admit, his logic made sense. Of course, his logic always made sense, even when it didn't. It was one of his gifts as an orator. He could stand up in front of a crowd and say absolutely nothing for fifteen minutes straight, and they would applaud him like he'd just unveiled the secrets of the universe to them.

"Alright then," she said, when nobody else spoke up. "What's the plan for getting there?" The Empire usually did big movements at night. An assault like this was likely to be a lot more obvious in the light of day, and she couldn't help feeling that a drill could easily pivot to being the real thing if the PRT saw them coming.

"Fleet vehicles." He was actually proud of this idea, she saw, like it was a tactic worthy of Rommel. "I've already had the license plates removed. We can literally drive up to the building, decamp from the cars, and hit them before they know we're there."

"What about the Samaritans?" asked Menja. "I mean, you said this had to be their doing, somehow."

"She's got a point," Fenja added. "What if they're listening somehow, and talking to the PRT? Or waiting to ambush us?"

Max shook his head. "No. I already told you, it doesn't add up. Whatever it was the Samaritans did, they got lucky once. If they did pull a fast one on us, they've utterly failed to capitalise on it. Now that we know they're targeting us, they're going to have to be lucky all the time. We'll just keep up the bug spray until we've taken them down once and for all. Also, need I remind you that there's a reason we're doing this, and every minute we delay is a minute closer to the dissolution of the Empire Eighty-Eight?" He paused to survey the table. "Does anyone have any relevant questions?"

Kayden had many, but she suspected his idea of 'relevant' didn't match with hers, so she kept her mouth shut.

It was easier that way, around him.

<><>​

A Little Earlier

Danny

"Kurt, I have to go." Danny was already putting on his coat.

Kurt looked up from his desk. "Ah, sure, but why?"

Danny hated to lie, especially to one of his oldest friends, but it was best Kurt didn't know about this side of his life. "The school called, about Taylor. They weren't too clear about what's going on, so I'm heading over there now."

Kurt sighed and nodded. "Fucking schools, man. Okay, I got your back. Say hi to Taylor for me."

"Will do." Danny headed out to where the car was parked. Getting in, he started the engine and headed out of the parking lot. He paused at the entrance to fasten his seatbelt, then he peeled out of there.

It was standard operating procedure in the Samaritans for people who'd been out of the loop to pick things up as they went along, once they got into the loop. All Danny knew was that the Empire was planning something, and that Taylor needed him to ferry a bunch of bugs across to the Medhall building and the PRT building. The latter destination gave him a strong clue as to what the Empire was planning, but he didn't know how she knew that, or what she planned to do about it.

Fortunately, that wasn't his problem. A plan had been made, and was being executed, and his part in that plan was to move a bunch of bugs from point A to point B as quickly as possible, in between picking up his other passengers. He trusted Taylor and the others to have thought the plan through, so the bugs would be moved.

"So, where am I going?" he asked out loud. He knew there were booster bugs living in the car, able to hear his voice and make sense out of it, which meant Taylor could hear him and respond.

Moments later, he had his reply. Taylor's bugs could be incredibly useful for giving directions, even if it was a bit creepy to have beetles crawling over the inside of the windshield to tell him where to go. As he'd expected, they formed an H shape, which he knew meant 'go home', so that was where he went.

When he pulled up outside the house, Lisa and Riley were waiting for him. Each had a bulky bag slung over one shoulder. "Girls," he said as they climbed in; Lisa got into the front seat, while Riley got in the back. "I assume you've been filled in?"

"Yup." Lisa looked pleased with herself, but that was her usual expression. After she closed the door, she opened the backpack she was carrying to reveal Taylor's Ladybug costume. "Alpha said he'd pick up the girls."

"What about the bugs?" he asked. "I was told there'd be bugs."

"Bugs, we have." Riley opened her bag, and the glittering swarm poured out of it to pool over the seat and footwell next to her. "All the eff-you the Empire will ever need."

"Wow, I'm proud of you." Lisa reached back to ruffle her hair. "That was almost a swear word. Keep it up, you'll get there one day."

Danny grinned as Riley batted her hand away, but he was already pulling out onto the road.

It wouldn't take them all that long to get to Downtown, but it should be long enough to fill him in on the rest of the plan.

<><>​

Ladybug

Mr Barnes pulled up in his car, and we all piled in. He was already moving off as we put on our seatbelts. "Danny and Rod?" he asked.

I held on as he took a corner at speed. "Dad's on the way with Lisa, Riley, and a bunch of ketamine bugs. Mr Clements is heading to Arcadia to pick up Flechette, Vista and Panacea. Dad's got my costume." Mine was the bulkiest. Emma and Madison usually carried their costumes with them, at the bottom of their backpacks. Fortune, as they say, favours the prepared mind.

"What about the Empire?" He didn't look around as he asked the question, concentrating entirely on driving.

"Prepping to move out." I grimaced. "I've got a ton of bugs coming on scene, but they're in an underground garage and I just can't get enough through to bother them. Also, it looks like they'll be travelling to the PRT building in a bunch of closed vehicles."

"I have to ask, why is Riley coming along on this?" asked Emma. "She doesn't have any powers, and I'm not totally sure why we're bringing her into a supervillain-facing situation."

"We're likely to need Lisa's insights," I pointed out. "And Riley needs Lisa's encouragement to keep on being Riley and not Bonesaw, powers or no powers."

Emma nodded. "Okay, fair point."

"How about the PRT itself?" asked Mr Barnes. "Are they preparing?"

"They are," I confirmed. "They've contacted New Wave. Velocity's watching Medhall and Assault, Battery, Dauntless and Triumph are on their way to the PRT building. Pretty sure Armsmaster and Miss Militia are already there."

Madison shook her head. "I still can't believe the Empire's actually going to attack the PRT building so blatantly like this. Do they want a mass kill order?"

"One," I said. "Kaiser's arrogant as fuck. Two, they don't know their secret is already out, so they're going all-out to keep it hidden. Three, they think they can."

"Well, shit." Madison shook her head. "This is gonna be a shitshow. I can just tell."

Emma chuckled darkly. "Ya think?"

<><>​

Kaiser

Max began growing his armour on the way to the PRT building, though he held off on the spiked crown for after he got out. "Look alive, people," he said over the two-way radio that he held carefully in his metal-gauntleted hand. "When we get there, we're going to be fighting hard from the minute we leave the vehicles to when we get past the guards and pull our people out of there. Not one step back, do you hear me? We don't retreat until we get what we're here for. Hookwolf, status on your troops?"

Hookwolf's voice came over the radio loud and clear. "Got two hundred coming in, armed and ready."

"Excellent." Max checked the dashboard clock display. They were about two minutes away. "Tell them to attack now. Get into the building, any way they can. Subdue the guards, take their weapons."

"Roger that. Ordering attack now."

Leaning back in his seat as much as he could, Max smiled coldly. It was good to be the man in charge.

<><>​

Director Piggot

Looking out her office window at the city below, Emily felt the faintest nigglings of doubt. It all looked so peaceful—well, as peaceful as Brockton Bay ever got—and the warning she'd gotten was starting to feel farther and farther out of left field. Since then, she'd gotten a text from Ladybug's number—E88 coming your way in black SUVs—and that was it. While black SUVs were not exactly a dime a dozen, they weren't vanishingly rare either.

Still, she'd put the building on full Red Alert posture from that moment; she herself was armed with an assault rifle and clad in body armour in case someone like Rune decided to burst in through her office window. They would fucking regret it, she promised silently. The doubts infected her mind once more. If they're coming at all …

Her phone rang, interrupting her dark thoughts. She snatched it up from her desk, noting that it was Armsmaster calling. "Piggot."

"I've got them, ma'am. I just cracked Victor's phone, with a little assistance. I've pinpointed each phone call made to a number within this building, and I know who owns those phones. Most of them are admin staff, but two are troopers."

She wanted to throw the phone at the window, but she restrained herself. Goddamn it, traitors in my building! "Excellent work. Notify their commanding officers, then go join the defensive perimeter."

"Ma'am." He ended the call, and she slid the phone into a pouch. If she had to leave the office, she'd need it.

A moment later, in the silence, she heard the distant crackling of gunfire, filtering in through the polycarbonate windows. Who's shooting? Going as close up to the window as she could and peering downward, she saw people surging across the street. Her eyesight wasn't as good as it had once been, but she was pretty sure she saw weapons in their hands, and a whole lot of shaven heads.

Motherfuckers. They're sending in the cannon fodder first.

<><>​

Ladybug

"Shit!" I blurted the word without thinking.

Madison, half-changed into her costume, looked at me curiously. "What's the matter?"

"There's Empire rank and file, mobbing the building from all sides. I'm pretty sure some of them have explosives. Breaching charges." I concentrated on the bugs on Dad's windshield. He was close, but maintaining a safe speed in traffic. The bugs formed arrows, as I made them lift their wing cases to show their red wings. Go faster.

My regular bugs were descending on the Empire mooks, but they were fired up now and a few ant bites and bee-stings weren't going to cut it. While it was true that a good defensive position was horrifically difficult to overrun, it seemed that the Empire was willing to spend their men (and women) to do just that. The PRT troopers and on-site heroes, as well-situated as they were, were still badly outnumbered by the Empire attackers … and the villains hadn't even shown up yet.

I had to even the odds somehow; fortunately, I had anticipated the need, and the 'somehow' was approaching rapidly. Except that my swarm had picked up on the sound of gunfire, and I did not want Dad getting shot.

<><>​

Danny

Riley tilted her head. "Is it just me, or does that sound like …"

"Shots!" Lisa confirmed, just as the bugs formed a red octagon on the windshield.

Danny immediately jammed on the brakes, slewing the car to the side of the road. The PRT building was just up the street, but there were people moving toward it with grim purpose. Not all of them held guns, but they all had something in their hands.

As more shots rang out, echoing down the street, the bug swarm flowed into the air. Lisa hastily lowered the window and they poured out through the opening. The cloud they formed moved steadily toward the attackers, spreading out as it went. While the people on the street had cloths tied over their faces to protect against tear gas, it was almost impossible to cover every last inch of skin, and the ketamine bugs found that skin. One by one, in a slowly toppling wave, the people assaulting the PRT building slumped to the ground.

Danny let out a long gusty sigh. "Is it done?"

Lisa shook her head. "Not yet. The shooting is, though. Now it's just the capes."

Oh, great.

<><>​

Purity

Kayden wasn't sure if it had been Max's decision or hers for Dorothy and Geoff to ride with her, but it was probably for the best. Tammi's choice to ride with the three of them had been more of a matter of being too slow to pick a spot in another car. Krieg was driving the lead car, with Max in the passenger seat and Fenja and Menja in the back, while Alabaster drove the last one, with Hookwolf riding shotgun and Stormtiger and Cricket in the back.

She didn't know anyone except maybe Alabaster who would let Geoff or Dorothy behind the wheel of a car, so she drove. By unspoken agreement, Dorothy sat in the front passenger seat, while Tammi shared the back seat with Geoff. Nobody wanted the assortment of animated blades that was Dorothy's unseen form suddenly erupting behind the driver.

The first indication that not everything was going precisely to plan came when they rounded the corner to find the mob that had been intended to overwhelm the defenses of the PRT building, all lying unconscious in the street. The lead car pulled to a halt, probably more because Max wasn't sure what was going on than due to any particular regard for the sanctity of human life. Kayden pulled up alongside him, and Hookwolf's vehicle alongside them.

"What the shit?" demanded Tammi from the back seat. "That wasn't supposed to happen! How did they do that? Knockout gas?"

"I … have no idea." Kayden pressed the button on the A/C panel that recycled cabin air, for what it was worth. "I've never heard of them using that sort of thing. It's usually containment foam."

"What happened?" demanded Max over the radio. "Why are they all unconscious?"

"Got a better question," Hookwolf retorted. "Why's there a barricade inside the front doors?"

Kayden looked in that direction, and saw he was correct. Despite the noonday glare, she was almost certain she could see black helmets behind it. "They knew we were coming," she said over the radio. "And they knew we were going to mob the building. They were listening to us the whole time."

"That's impossible!" Max was almost screaming over the radio. "Hookwolf! One of your people must have talked! That's the only plausible explanation!"

"Bullshit. My guys are staunch. They wouldn't say shit about shit."

"Well, someone betrayed us! The evidence is right there!"

"I thought we were attacking," Geoff commented. "Why aren't we attacking?"

"Can we even attack now?" asked Rune. "I mean, they're ready for us, and they did something to knock out all those guys."

"Well, whatever's happened has fucking happened. Your call, boss-man. Which way are we jumping on this one?"

If they retreated now, Kayden knew, it would be an admission of defeat.

Lying out there on the street was almost the entire rank and file of the Empire's footsoldiers. Absent cape interference, it would be a walk in the park for the PRT to secure them all and hand them into the custody of the BBPD. The biggest hassle would be figuring out a place to house them all while awaiting trial.

Worse, they would be deprived in one fell swoop of all their useful minions; at least, those who had been willing to pick up a weapon and come to the party. And that wasn't even mentioning what they were here to do in the first place. Pulling back would essentially guarantee the end of the Empire Eighty-Eight in any meaningful form.

Kayden knew this, and she was sure Max did too.

"Shut up." Even over the radio, he sounded like he was talking through gritted teeth. "I'm thinking."

"Dearest?" said Geoff. "Should we?"

"Yes," Dorothy agreed. "We should."

And they opened their respective doors and got out of the car.

<><>​

On Top of the PRT Building

Lady Photon

"What the hell was that?" asked Neil, leaning over the edge and shading his eyes. "Did they all just … fall over?"

Shielding herself appropriately and trusting Carol to keep an eye out for approaching fliers, Sarah looked over the edge of the roof as well. The unruly mob below, which had just moments before been surging toward the building with weapons in hand, all lay on the road in attitudes suggesting that they'd just lain down to sleep where they were. There'd been no explosion or energy signature from a power, not that she'd seen anyway.

"That is odd," she agreed. "Do you think Armsmaster or Kid Win are testing some kind of new knockout munition?"

"I'm pretty sure they would've mentioned it if they had something this effective." Neil sounded dubious. "That's got to be a hundred and fifty, maybe two hundred people, out like a light."

"Wait a minute." Vicky pointed down the street. "Didn't Ladybug's message say something about black SUVs?"

Sarah looked. Sure enough, three vehicles of that description were just rolling to a stop. "Do you think it's really them?"

"I bet it is." Vicky sounded positively eager. "I can go down there and pancake them if you want."

"You will do nothing of the sort." Carol's tone was definitive. "It might not be them. And if it is, I don't want you getting too close to them."

Neil frowned. "They're just sitting there. What are they up to?"

Carol snorted. "Well, wouldn't you? They've shown up to join the attack, and there's no attack to join, no human wave to hide behind. Right now, they've got to be asking themselves what they've gotten into, and trying to figure out a way out of it."

That engendered a thoughtful silence among the members of New Wave on the rooftop.

"Think they'll give up and go away?" Eric peered down at the vehicles.

Crystal shook her head and spoke authoritatively. "They can't, not and stay afloat as a gang. That's their people down there. If they leave them to be arrested and charged, the Empire loses all credibility. Also, with nobody to collect protection payments, sell the drugs, and stuff like that, they're going to lose money hand over fist."

Sarah slowly nodded her head, noting that her daughter had summed up the situation masterfully. "Well put. So they're probably going to do something—"

She'd been just about to say the word 'stupid' when Vicky pointed and shouted. "Look! Someone's getting out!"

Sure enough, both doors on one side of the middle SUV were opening, and Night and Fog emerged, fully costumed up. As soon as Fog was clear of the vehicle, he dissolved into a cloud of mist, and rolled over the top of Night. Sarah knew what that meant: no matter how deadly Fog's cloud was normally, it had just become even more so.

As if Night and Fog's actions had been a signal, all the other doors on the SUVs burst open and the rest of the Empire Eighty-Eight leaped out, ready for battle. Growing taller as Sarah watched, Menja reared back and hurled her now-gigantic spear at the closed and barricaded doors of the PRT building. With a shattering noise that Sarah heard even from where she was, it punched through.

As soon as entry had been gained, Hookwolf charged forward, razor-sharp metal covering his body from head to toe. The cloud of mist that was Fog also rolled in the direction of the breached entrance, presumably covering Night in her monster form.

Vicky lofted into the air. "I'm going—"

"Wait!" Neil grabbed her by the arm. "We're here to hold the high ground. If Purity comes up here, she could core out this building right down to ground level."

"Or from side to side." Sarah pointed at where Purity had just lit off her powers and was climbing skyward. "Kids!"

Together with her, Crystal and Eric formed the strongest field they could over the top of the building, then fired off lasers in her direction. It was hard to focus on her—spots formed in Sarah's vision each time she tried—but at least they were keeping her at a distance. Down below, the sound of shattering polycarbonate indicated that other members of the Empire were also attacking the building from the outside, until it suddenly stopped.

<><>​

Ladybug

Mr Barnes' car screeched to a halt behind Dad's. I knew Mr Clements wasn't far behind, but we needed to do something now. Purity was up above the roof of the PRT building, dodging lasers from the New Wave capes but not firing back, probably because there was an impressive-looking force-field dome in the way.

Or maybe she was just keeping their attention while Stormtiger and Rune smashed holes in the side of the building, courtesy of Stormtiger's air-claws and the car that he and Rune weren't currently using as their own personal flying carpet. Either way, Purity was too high and moving around too much for my remaining ketamine bugs (they were all alive, but only a few still had a payload of venom on board) to get to her. The other two were another matter altogether.

"Madison?" I asked, inclining my head toward the flying SUVs.

She grinned, pretending to crack her knuckles. "On it."

I couldn't see her power in action, but all my bugs felt the subtle change in air currents. It was a lot less subtle about ten storeys up, as both vehicles sheered away from the building, and Stormtiger's explosive air-claws dissipated before they could hit their target, much less explode. Rune swooped the SUVs back toward the building, but Vicky came down like a bolt from the blue, grabbing the unattended one and shoving it away.

With that assistance, Madison was able to get them to where she needed them; over a spot where the SUVs wouldn't kill any of the unconscious gang members if they fell. Rune had no defense against my ketamine bugs, and Stormtiger's had been suppressed to the point that when the vehicle fell out from under him, I was able to nail him on my first try. With more of Vicky's assistance, Madison lowered them both to the ground, avoiding the wreckage of the SUVs.

But then my bugs picked up a commotion on the rooftop.

<><>​

Laserdream

Crystal didn't pay any attention when the roof door opened and two PRT troopers emerged. While she wasn't sure exactly what they hoped to achieve through the force field, the Director probably had her reasons. Turning her attention back to the swooping, diving sun-bright flare in the sky, she took another pot-shot, and missed again.

Uncle Mark turned his head and went to say something to one of the troopers, but there was a crackling pop and he went down. Crystal spun around, looking for the origin of the new attack, but she was too late. The second taser, wielded by the other trooper, struck her dead centre and she felt every muscle convulse in a tsunami of agony.

Her part of the force field bubble dissipated as she collapsed, unable to control her twitching muscles. The trooper who had tased her grabbed Eric around the neck from behind and shoved a pistol up under his ear, while his buddy aimed an assault rifle at her. "Drop the force fields now!" bellowed the first one. "Do it, or the kids get it!"

"Mom!" screamed Eric. "Dad! Help!"

"Don't even think about it, kid," growled the trooper. "I see even a hint of a laser, I put a bullet in your head. Force fields! Down! Now!"

The force fields wavered, then vanished. "Don't hurt my babies!" Crystal's mother held out her hands pleadingly. "Please! They're just kids!"

"Shouldn't've brought 'em into a war zone, then." The faux trooper raised his voice. "Now, Purity! Blast 'em!"

Purity came to a hover, or at least the sun-bright glare steadied in the corner of Crystal's vision. But when she spoke, she said just one word.

"No."



End of Part Thirty-Seven

[A/N: Evil cliffhanger is evil. Mwahahaha.]