A Darker Path [Worm Fanfic]

A Darker Path

Part Fifty-Five: The Facts of Life

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


Saturday Afternoon, February 26, 2011
Brockton Bay Betterment Committee Headquarters

Danny

The table wasn't Tinkertech, but it didn't have to be. It had a complete map of Brockton Bay set into the surface, with an LCD screen underneath. Data was streaming into the room from all over the city, showing each of the road crews standing ready to roll. Danny held a tablet showing the same map, allowing him to zoom in on each area and even call up camera views if need be.

He didn't need them.

As the clock ticked toward three PM, the time that had been chosen for the start, he could feel it all. Every person, every machine, even the road surface under the tyres and treads of the earthmovers. All of it. And he was the one controlling the nerve centre of the entire operation.

Taylor and Cherie were there, standing behind the operational personnel; Taylor because she was the architect of the whole thing, and Cherie because she'd done her part as well. Of course, nobody but Danny knew that part.

As far as everyone in the room knew, Taylor was his daughter and Cherie was her best friend, and nobody had a problem with them being in the room at the start of the operation. Later on, when it got busy, would be a different matter. But for now, it was okay.

As it was, they were keeping back out of the way. Cherie was examining the table-map with pure fascination, and Taylor was looking at the wall-screens showing the camera views. Danny shared a nod with Taylor and a smile with Cherie, all without losing track of the mass of people ready to break ground at his word.

A discordant note broke through to him. "Hm." He tapped at the tablet, then zoomed in on a section. The earpiece he was wearing would transmit his voice to whoever he selected, as well as their immediate foreman; he tapped the icon indicating a single front-end loader. "This is Danny Hebert. Pull Loader Seventeen A from the line and send it in for repairs. It's got a faulty transmission. Roll out a backup loader."

On the wall-screen, a single loader trundled out of formation and up onto a flatbed truck. Just before the driver shut the engine down, there was a grinding noise audible through his earpiece, and smoke rose from somewhere within. The driver hit the kill-switch, then climbed down from the stricken machine, waving to the repair crews. It was their baby now.

Several people around the table were staring at Danny. It wasn't hard to divine their thoughts. How did he know?

Cutting the transmission, he looked at the inquiring faces. "Long practice." It wasn't that at all, of course, but it was a convenient lie.

The new loader rolled into place with barely a minute to go. Danny sighed and hit the transmit-to-all icon. He hadn't wanted to do this, but even Kurt and Lacey had insisted.

"Attention, all," he said. "This is Danny Hebert. Like most of you, I was born in Brockton Bay, and I grew up here. For the longest time, we've seen it go downhill. Well, today we stop that slide. Today, we start to turn it around. Together, whether we were born here or came in from outside, we're going to fix what's wrong with our city and rebuild it stronger than ever before."

He paused and took a breath, glancing at Taylor. She grinned back at him, no doubt fully aware of what he was going to say next.

"We all know where the money is coming from to do all this. But without us, without you, the money is useless. Without willing hands and a strong back, all the money in the world can do nothing. So, what happens next is up to you. Fixing Brockton Bay, fixing our city, is your job. We have the tools. We have the materials."

He watched the clock as the hands ticked over the last few seconds.

"Let's get to work."

<><>​

Taylor

As Dad pulled out a chair and sat down, I strolled over and leaned against the table next to him. "Nice speech. Been practicing?"

He snorted and shook his head. "Hardly. I've been too busy making sure all the ducks were in the appropriate rows." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Though the other thing is astonishingly handy, I have to say. So, thank you for that."

I shrugged. "Barely had to do anything. We just had to explain the facts of life, that's all."

He raised his eyebrows. "She said it threatened her with physical violence."

"The facts of life being that if she didn't play ball, there would be physical violence." I let a smirk creep onto my lips.

"I see." He shook his head in amusement. "An offer she couldn't refuse, huh?"

"Oh, she could refuse it. It just wouldn't have been wise."

He became more serious. "Still, I'm not totally comfortable with coercion by threats like that, especially when it's not totally necessary."

"Dad." I stood up from the table. "Walk with me a second?"

He paused, apparently ensuring that the combined operations across the city were proceeding apace, and nodded. Getting up from the chair, he followed me out into the corridor. Cherie stayed in the room, gazing at the progress reports popping up here and there on the table.

Once the door closed behind us, he looked at me. "Talk to me."

"Okay, then. Powers and the shards that bestow them? They're not here for our benefit. They're here for theirs. In a very real way, they're designed to test us to near-destruction while harvesting data from that use for their own ends. If Administration had attached to you in the normal course of events, you probably would've ended up estranged from humanity, controlling a horde of rats. There's always a catch."

His head came up at that. "She said you—your power—ordered her not to use 'monkey-paw bullshit'. How did you manage that?"

I grinned. "My power isn't part of their collection. It was thrown in by something else to be a joker in the deck, to disrupt the whole damn operation here on Bet. You've got Administration, I've got Ending. He can be very … persuasive."

"She prefers 'Queen Administrator'," he observed dryly.

I shrugged. "Don't care. The tee-ell-dee-are is that the normal run of shards give powers that pretend to be useful in solving the problem at hand, but in the long run only make it worse. So don't waste your energy being sorry for Her Highness the Grand Poohbah of Administration. She came to this planet intending to screw over whoever she attached to." I put on an exaggerated sad-face. "Whoops."

"Jesus," he muttered. "So, every cape out there except us two …"

"Well, there are certain exceptions, but that's a topic for another day. Ignoring those ones, sure. They're all screwed up in some way. Take Cherie, for instance. Do you think her powers made her life better before she ended up with us, even ignoring the shit her father dumped in her head?"

"Okay, right, yeah, good point." He took a deep breath. "Message received, loud and clear. Thank you."

I gave him a grin and opened the door back into the operations room. "My genuine pleasure, Dad. Go fix the city."

He smiled right back. "I'll do that. Though I might be late home tonight."

"We'll leave something in the oven for you."

"I knew there was a reason I keep you around."

<><>​

Boardwalk

Salvage

"Hello."

Sal looked up from his latest creation, an old-fashioned steam locomotive with moving parts that included connecting rods and coupling rods, to see a bunch of teenagers standing in front of his table. They all wore Goth-style dark clothing and black makeup, though there was a lack of weird piercings.

"Hi," he replied, trying to look friendly and harmless. He didn't get as many sales as Parian, mainly because his whole demeanour tended to scare the kids, no matter how softly he talked. Still, he had to try. "Can I help you with something?"

"You enjoy the favour of Atropos," said the pretty redhead who seemed to be their spokesperson. "There are children in this city without toys, so we will buy the ones you make and spread the beneficence of Our Lady in Darkness."

"Ah." Now that he was paying proper attention, he could see the tiny silver shears they were wearing as ornaments, either as necklaces or as earrings. Why am I not surprised she has a cult? "Uh, sure." Reaching down behind the table, he lifted up the box he'd already filled with unsold toys. It was heavy, but he was strong. "How many do you want?"

Reaching into her purse—black, of course, with a skull on it—she produced a wad of bills. Others in the group added their contributions, and she slapped the lot down on the table. "Everything that will buy."

Well, all right then. "Ladies," he said, taking up the cash and starting to count through it. "You have a deal."

<><>​

Dallon Household

Panacea

"Wow. I mean, wow." Crystal held the doll carefully, turning it over in her hands. "Parian is really, really good. And she made this in just a few minutes?"

"While I was talking to her," Amy confirmed. "She wasn't even looking. It was amazing."

"So, why'd you even ask for a doll of yourself?" Eric smirked. "That's something I'd expect Vicky to do, not you."

"Hey!" protested Vicky. "I'm not that self-centred!"

"Sorry, cuz, but you kind of are," Crystal said gently. "But we love you for it."

"May I?" asked Aunt Sarah. When Crystal handed the doll over, she examined it with as much care as Crystal had. "This is really amazing craftmanship. It's definitely not a child's toy. Parian has a real talent."

Amy nodded. "That's what I said."

"I hope you didn't short-change her on it," Carol noted. "We want to encourage this sort of thing."

Amy smiled. "I paid her exactly what she asked for it." Seeking to change the subject before someone asked precisely what that was, she added, "But the rest of the Rogues' Guild were pretty cool too. Salvage takes scrap metal and makes stuff out of it, like actual toys."

"Yeah," Vicky said. "And Bastet does this swirly dance with ribbons and other stuff, Spitfire dresses in a dragon costume and, well, spits fire, and Oracle answers questions. But get this: she dresses like she's trying to cosplay Atropos, only not as edgy. Hat, mask, and the cutest little coat and tie and stuff."

"Well, they certainly sound interesting." Uncle Neil took the doll next, handling it gingerly. "I might get one of these done for my sister. She'll love it."

"So, what's this I hear about how Atropos was down on the Boardwalk at the same time, and that you two were talking to her?" asked Carol, her brows drawing down. "Apparently, the photos are all over social media." Unspoken were the words, you'd better not have done anything to mess with the good name of New Wave.

Vicky jumped in before Amy could think of what to say. "We were there, she was there. She actually introduced us to the Rogues' Guild. They apparently know each other."

"Well, duh," Eric said. "She saved them from Bastard Son that one time, remember? And then they showed up to the fundraiser where she had that epic swordfight with Mouse Protector."

"So, what did you talk about?" Carol wasn't letting go of that thread. "I know enough about her to be aware this wasn't a chance meeting on her part. Why did she seek you out?"

"Um." Amy glanced helplessly at Vicky, then back at Carol. "Just … um … stuff. She wasn't mean or anything. Asked how we were. Made sure Vicky knew she didn't hold a grudge about the thing in the park that time. Introduced us to the Rogues' Guild. No threats, not even subtle ones. She was pretty chill."

"Victoria?" Carol turned her attention to her biological daughter.

"What Ames said." Vicky shrugged. "Maybe she thought we were going to try to harass them or something, and she was making sure we didn't. Because you know, some heroes are assholes like that."

"Language." Carol spoke the word without heat. "But you're right. If she has some kind of a proprietary interest in them, then it's good idea to leave them alone, especially as they seem to be harmless."

"Well, she does aggressively promote anything that's good for Brockton Bay," Mark offered. "A bunch of capes making toys and other products, earning money for being entertaining, when they might otherwise end up as unemployed criminals? I think that fits the description pretty well."

"I have no problem with things being good for Brockton Bay, or even with Atropos promoting the idea." Carol looked around at the rest of New Wave. "My issue lies with her methods. Murder is one of the things every hero should stand against."

"I agree with you," Aunt Sarah said. "I really do. And I want to agree that something should be done about it. But … seriously, Carol. She killed the Simurgh. And while the PRT hasn't yet confirmed it, the word online is that she's also taken out the other two Endbringers. You can't exactly deny that they, at least, deserved it."

"Well, no, of course they did." Carol evidently knew when to not argue particular points. "But you were there for Lung. You saw what she did to him."

"I did." Sarah nodded. "It was horrific. But he was slated for the Birdcage, and she'd warned him to get out of town or surrender. Just like she did with the other three. He had options. He just chose not to take them."

Amy nodded, along with everyone except Carol. It was self-evident now (even if it hadn't been for some people then) that a warning from Atropos was the equivalent of Holy Writ, but for everyone. Ignoring two warnings was for the terminally stupid, the insanely arrogant, or the actively suicidal.

"And let's be real here," Uncle Neil said. "What happened to Kaiser was just plain karma. All of them, really. Sorry for the language, Carol, but they've been fucking around for years, and they finally found out."

This argument was threatening to go in circles, so Amy caught Vicky's eye. "I'm just going to lie down for a bit," she murmured.

"Sure," Vicky replied with a smirk. "Go snuggle with your dolly." Retrieving the doll, she passed it to Amy.

Making sure Carol wasn't watching, Amy poked her tongue out at Vicky, which made Eric and Crystal grin. Then she headed up to her room.

Once she was alone, she removed her costume and hung it up, then flopped onto her bed. The next few minutes passed with her lying inert, staring at the ceiling. Vicky was right. Carol would freak if she learned even half of what we're doing.

Digging in her jeans pocket, she took out the card and looked at it, turning it over several times. The front had a phone number, which was different to the one on the back. Finally, she took out her phone and woke it up. The numbers lit up on the screen one at a time, until she had just the call icon to go.

She wavered, second-guessing herself. This was a huge step. She'd never actually gotten someone's number before, much less called it.

Holding up the doll in front of her, she stared at it. She made a beautiful thing, just for me.

Taking a deep breath, she tapped the icon.

The phone rang. Once, twice. She nearly cancelled the call.

"Hello?" It was the same soft, gentle voice from the Boardwalk.

"Hi, it's me. Panacea. Amy."

"Oh. Oh, wow. I was wondering if you would call."

Amy's giggle was more a release of tension than anything else. "I was wondering that, too."

"It's really nice to hear from you."

Rolling onto her side, Amy smiled. "It's nice to hear your voice, too. So, tell me about fashion."

<><>​

Hebert Household

Atropos

"I won't take very long, this time." Mask and hat in hand, I gave Cherie a smile. "Maybe half an hour, tops. The lasagna shouldn't require any attention, but if I take longer than that, keep an eye on it and make sure it doesn't burn."

"Oh, totally," she assured me. "I love your lasagna. There's no way I'm letting that burn. And thank you."

I wasn't quite sure what she was referring to. "For what?"

"The responsibility." She waved her hands vaguely in the air. "Not just being trusted to be home alone, but being trusted to do something. Treating me as a person, not just a chattel."

"Well, look at you." I grinned. "Someone's improving their vocabulary."

She wrinkled her nose at me. "Says the girl who grew up knowing words like that."

"Eh, true." I gave her a quick hug, which she reciprocated. "I'm very proud of you. I want you to understand that. You're really taking your remedial classes seriously."

"Yeah, well." She quirked a grimace with one corner of her mouth. "I went into it convinced I knew everything I needed to know. The more I learn, the more I realise I just don't know."

"Welcome to the paradox of academia." I pulled on the mask, then the hat went on top. "When we get back, you can pick whatever movie we're going to watch first."

Her eyes lit up. "Ooooh."

<><>​

Trickster

"We're getting low on food, guys." Oliver put the pot in the middle of the table. Savoury smells wafted out from it, teasing Francis' nostrils. "Two more days and we're going to have to decide what we're doing."

"I think we should stay." Jess was still sitting in her wheelchair, although she'd spent a couple of hours, on and off, using it as a walker. "Atropos cared enough to get the PRT to bring Miss Medic out to fix my spine. Nobody ever did that for us before."

"Yeah, but what'll we do for cash?" Luke dug into the pot and filled his bowl. "Hero for pay, that's where the big money is. Because there's no way in hell I'm going to be doing crime anywhere near this town, and nobody in Bet pays their heroes unless they're Protectorate, and they don't get all that much anyway. So, we go back to Aleph. Instant monetisation, cha-ching!"

Francis frowned as he filled Noelle's bowl and then his. "Not so sure that's a great idea."

"Okay, this is different." Cody waited until he was finished, then borrowed the ladle. "Used to be, you were all gung-ho about going back to Aleph. What changed?"

"No, I was gung-ho about helping Noelle with her problems," Francis corrected him. "Everything else was secondary. Everything. Even stuff I should've been paying attention to. But since then, I've had time to think about it. We've been gone what, fifteen months? What if they've declared us dead?"

"Actually, that's a point," Jess agreed. "What if their Madison's been quarantined the same way it was here on Bet?"

"Exactly." Francis gestured with his fork. "Going back now could draw a whole lot of unwelcome attention. It's for damn sure we won't be able to simply step back into our old lives."

Noelle looked at Luke. "And that'll mean a ton of scrutiny just when you're trying to keep a low profile and kick off your superhero career."

"And if some of us decide to stay," Marissa added, "the authorities will be asking the people who go very awkward questions about what happened to them. 'They decided not to come back' might not cut it."

"Goddamn it, Krouse," Luke muttered grumpily. "Why couldn't you just stick to being wrong?"

"I don't know." Noelle put her arm through Francis'. "I kinda like the new him."

"So, what are we going to do?" asked Oliver.

Francis had been thinking about that. "Tomorrow, we'll drive into Brockton Bay and apply for work with the Betterment Committee. That'll give us a regular income and the chance to sleep under an actual roof. And those of us without a relevant power can take the training courses they're offering, and just work like everyone else. Show of hands, all in favour?" He raised his own hand.

Noelle's went up immediately, followed by Cody's and Marissa's. Oliver raised his hand a moment later, then Jess did as well. Everyone looked at Luke, who rolled his eyes. "I still think being a hero for pay is a boss idea, but okay. Let's go work for the man." His hand finally rose into the air.

Francis smiled. "Thanks, guys. I hope this works out. If it doesn't, we can always ask Atropos for a ticket home."

"You really think she can pull that off?" asked Cody.

Jess snorted derisively. "With everything else she's done, do you really want to bet she can't?"

Cody considered that. "Good point."

<><>​

Director Emily Piggot

The helicopter flared as it came in for a landing on the helipad at Ellisburg Base. A moment later, the wheels touched down, a sensation so familiar to Emily that she didn't consciously register it anymore. All she knew was that it was time to divest herself of the helmet with its built-in headset and climb out of the chopper.

Keeping her head down—she knew the blades were well above her head, but she also knew a wind gust at the wrong moment could flick them downward, with horrific results—she moved away from the helicopter, to where Major Holden was standing alongside Atropos herself. Holden straightened to attention and saluted, while Atropos merely nodded. The salute was required by regulations, while Atropos had no obligation to even acknowledge her presence.

As Emily was no longer a serving officer, and had no cover to boot, she didn't return the salute. "Major," she said instead. "Atropos. I was worried I might be late. We ran into headwinds." Why haven't you already done it? she didn't quite ask.

"I knew you'd be here on time." Atropos might as well have been discussing the weather. "Nilbog still has a minute or so to announce his surrender. I figured I'd wait until you arrived before I went in."

"I only let a few personnel know I'd even be here." Emily looked at her narrowly. "Who talked?"

Atropos' tone was unruffled. "Nobody. I know you, and this is personal. There's no way you could stay away." She glanced sideways at Holden. "Major, the time?"

Major Holden checked his military-issue timepiece. "Sixteen forty-three, ma'am."

"And has Nilbog indicated in any way that he would like to surrender to PRT forces?" Atropos' tone was oddly formal, while she asked a question that everyone knew the answer to.

"No, ma'am, he has not." Holden's voice, on the other hand, was filled with quiet satisfaction.

"Well, then. He's had his twenty-four hours." One of Atropos' hands had been hidden behind her long-coat, and now she lifted what was in it—a large and very sharp-looking axe—to rest on her shoulder. "Time to go explain why he should've surrendered."

"Wait." Emily stared at the axe. "Is that …?"

"Hatchet Face's axe. Yeah." She was certain Atropos was grinning behind the mask. "It's amazing how many problems cease to be problems when you apply a really sharp piece of steel to the right point." Raising her free hand, she snapped her fingers. Emily was entirely unsurprised when she vanished.

"We have screens set up in the command hut, ma'am. If you will accompany me?"

Emily was going to savour this. "Lead the way, Major."

<><>​

Atropos

The moment I appeared in the Goblin Kingdom—right in the middle of a crowd of the little menaces—I threw the vial I'd palmed to the ground. It shattered, and the fumes went in all directions. Then I drew my pistol and shot three of them, to incentivise the rest to scatter and pass on the good news to their brethren (and sistren, I guess).

One didn't get the message. Bigger and bulkier than his fellows, he loomed toward me. I didn't hesitate; holstering the pistol, I let him have it in the centre of his face with the axe. Whatever thought processes were propelling him, having several inches of razor-sharp steel intruding on his brain did them no good at all.

The goblins I'd (temporarily) spared were running in all directions, shrieking words that could have been 'Intruder!' and 'Alarm' at the top of their lungs. I wasn't listening, mainly because I had earplugs in. For this situation, I wasn't using a suppressor, and my good friend Mr Pump Action Shotgun was going to have a chance to come out and play, none of which would be good for the ears.

Within my head, the threatscape was drawing itself up nicely. Wherever the alarm goblins went, they knew about me and wanted to hurt me. Not as fanatically as they would've without the first virus in their systems, so I wouldn't be overwhelmed, but they still fully intended to perform many indignities on my body, some while I was still alive. Then I would be fed into the spawning monsters, to spit out new goblins for the Kingdom. Of course, the spawning monsters were currently inert, incapable of producing so much as a malevolent fruit fly, but Nilbog was not going to know this until he got the word and sent orders for them to produce enough warriors to murder me fifty times over.

As I made my way toward the Goblin Kingdom's seat of government (so to speak), the first creatures to respond to the alarm call came at me. I shot two with the pistol, then changed out for the shotgun and blew the head off of a third. There was a fourth that looked like the offspring of a minotaur and a clownfish, that had bony plates that made him bulletproof. Or at least, he thought he was until I put a twelve-gauge slug between his teeth and blew out the back of his head.

Here was where the lack of long-distance communication worked in my favour. While Nilbog could see through the eyes and hear through the ears of his creations, he could not control or command them that way. Normally, this would not be an issue, but they didn't know for a fact that he knew about me, so one of the little snitches was running directly toward the boss, to tell him what was going on, and to get orders.

And, of course, taking the virus with him.

They came at me in disorganised waves, attacking from concealment or even jumping off roofs to get to me. It might have even worked if I hadn't known exactly where they were and what they intended. Some of those little bastards were really good at hiding, but it didn't help them when I put a shotgun shell through the drywall they were skulking behind, and into their vital organs.

I had extra ammo that I'd requisitioned from Major Holden; even though I conserved it where I could, that wasn't always possible. Some of the goblinoids I skewered with the shears, others I hacked apart with the axe, but most of them I shot. Director Piggot wanted blood? She'd get blood.

There were no live goblins behind me, either dead at my hand or from the virus, when I kicked open the doors leading into Nilbog's throne room. I used the last two shells from the shotgun to take out the two critters that had been waiting in ambush on either side of the doors—seriously, I didn't even need my power for that—then holstered it and pulled my pistol and shears. The axe was slung in its holder across my back, but I didn't bother with it.

Eight mutated monsters, the cream of Nilbog's twisted crop, came at me. I dodged bone darts, sprays of acid, snapping fangs and razor claws. While Nilbog himself—or rather, his homunculus—gibbered on the sagging throne, I dismantled his bodyguards. Larger and tougher than the norm, these ones had taken longer to succumb to the virus than most, but even now it was weakening them.

Five of them I shot to death, though it emptied the magazine of the pistol to do so. The other three went down to slashes of my shears, though the last of them was already dying on its feet. I stood from its body and faced the last living inhabitant of the Goblin Kingdom. His breath was already thickening as the virus attacked his lungs and heart from within, his own body slowly strangling him. Underground, because he shared an umbilical with this creature, the real Jamie Rinke would be suffering the same fate.

"I warned you. You didn't surrender." Changing magazines, I chambered a round and fired a single shot into his forehead, just as his last breath rattled to a halt.

Then I holstered the pistol and sheathed the shears. Climbing onto the throne, I took the axe out of its holder and swung it sideways once, twice, three times. Finally, the head rolled free onto the blood-streaked ground, and I stepped down off the throne.

I didn't trust the straggly hair not to pull out at the roots, so I took a cloth bag from my pocket and nudged the head into it. Putting the axe back into its holder, I set up the new jump while my hands were out of sight of the camera. The teleport took hold, and the charnel-house of the throne room was replaced with the relatively clean (if dusty) Ellisburg Base camp.

The door to the command hut opened and Emily Piggot emerged. Moving carefully, she descended the steps and made her way toward where I waited. Silently, I held out the bag to her. She took it and opened it to peer inside. The twisted, dead face of Nilbog looked back at her. Some would have been horrified; others, repulsed.

Emily Piggot smiled.

When she raised her eyes to my face, I saw they were wet with tears she would not shed until she was in private. "Thank you, Atropos," she said, and held out her hand.

I shook it. Her grip was still strong, after all these years out of uniform. "You're welcome."

She looked into the bag again. "God damn, this is a good day."

"What are you going to do with Ellisburg, now that everything in there is dead?" I asked.

"Seal it in," she said, with a jut of her chin. "Lock down everything in there under six feet of concrete and steel. If he left anything behind, it'll have to dig its way out through that."

I nodded. "That should work. Well, I'll see you around. Toodles!"

Right on cue, the teleport portal formed, and I stepped backward into it.

Cherie sat up from the sofa, a book in her hands. "So, how'd it go?"

I looked down at the blood decorating my boots. "Well, he's definitely dead. I'll just go shower and change, and wipe these down. Have you thought about what movie you want to watch first?"

She grinned and nodded. "Man of the House, with Sylvester Stallone. Some of the kids in my class say it's really funny."

"It's all of that." I headed for the stairs. "Check on the lasagna while I'm cleaning up?"

"I can totally do that."



End of Part Fifty-Five

 

A Darker Path

Part Fifty-Six: Welcome to Brockton Bay

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

Relevant Side-Stories:

Accord's New Plan
The Advent of Hades

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♦ Topic: The King is Dead, Woo!
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► New Capes ► Atropos

Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me) (Verified Dethpicable)
Posted On Feb 27th 2011:

Well, hello to the wonderful people of Brockton Bay. Yes, that's you!

Posting again at midnight, because traditions are fun.

So, yesterday was a productive day. I got to introduce some people I knew to other people I knew (you know who you are) and I'm pleased to say everyone got along well. It's nice when everyone gets along, you know?

I also got to watch the start of the Brockton Bay comprehensive infrastructure upgrade plan. It got off well, with no hitches or delays to be seen, all due to the exemplary work of the Betterment Committee chairman and his diligent committee members. I'm totally proud of everyone involved, from the guy at the top all the way down to the lowliest grunt shoveling dirt (you rock, dude!).

Then I rounded out my evening with a little light exercise. You see, our very own PRT Director Piggot arranged with me on Friday that I would deal with Nilbog in my own inimitable fashion. I decided that it wouldn't be fair if I didn't at least give him warning, so I went into Ellisburg and did exactly that. The footage of my little stroll through the Goblin Kingdom, courtesy of a PRT supplied body camera, can be found [here].

Unfortunately for his future prospects (such as breathing), Nilbog decided to decline my generous offer (surrender to the PRT or die) and so I went back on Saturday afternoon. It got a little energetic, but exercise is good for the body and mind. Also courtesy of the PRT, the footage of Nilbog's death can be found [here].

Rumors that the footage has been set to Ride of the Valkyries and played on loop in the PRT headquarters are possibly false. The other rumor, that they've turned it into a drinking game, is almost certainly untrue. Nobody can handle that much alcohol.

In case anyone is wondering why I went and did this—it's not like Nilbog was threatening Brockton Bay, after all—we will be getting ten percent of the Ellisburg budget for the next ten years, courtesy of Director Piggot. Also, she asked politely.

On to other messages.

To the Fallen: you are very close to doing an extremely stupid thing. Yes, I know you're all butt-hurt that your personal apocalyptic monsters have been Ended. They were a threat. I removed them. If you become a threat, I will remove you as well. It's kind of my thing.

Well, don't say you weren't warned.

Anyway, to the rest of you wonderful people, have a great Sunday, and just remember that the sound of roadworks outside your window is the sound of a better tomorrow.

Toodles!

(Showing page 1 of 93)

►Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied On Feb 27th 2011:
And we have another Atropos post.
Just when we thought our own personal angel of death might be mellowing out and settling down a little, this happens. Things are so peaceful in Brockton Bay these days that it's almost possible to forget how we got to this point, but then something like this happens and she reminds us in no uncertain terms.
Make no mistake, folks: under that happy, chatty exterior lies the heart and soul of someone who *will* take extreme exception to anyone messing with her city. We saw it with our gang leaders, we saw it with the Nine, with Butcher and with the Simurgh. And now Nilbog has gone the same way.
I will make a note that no punches are pulled. There's not a huge amount of blood, except when the shears or the axe are used, but her sheer terrifying capability comes out in a way that it doesn't during her other recorded combats. It wasn't a fight. Fights involve a chance for the other side to win. They were outmatched from the beginning, no matter how many they threw at her.
In a side note, I'm pretty sure the axe she was using is the same one she took off Hatchet Face and decapitated Jack Slash with. If so, it's a nice touch to see it being used for good.
Here's hoping the Fallen come to their senses before it's too late ... for them.
Well, I can dream, right?

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On Feb 27th 2011:
I have been authorized to verify the fact that I was in the room when Atropos met with Director Piggot and laid out the terms of the agreement regarding Nilbog.
Atropos was courteous, professional and approachable.
We are very pleased with the result.
I would like to emphasize that this does *not* mean that Atropos is in any way on the PRT payroll, nor has she joined the Protectorate or Wards. She continues to be a free agent, and will do things her way. We do not give her orders, and we're not going to pretend that we do. The very most we have with her is a cooperative relationship, which seems to be working out so far.

►ShaneGoldman
Replied On Feb 27th 2011:
What an excellent end to a horrible kingdom. Like Atropos said, Nilbog was a weeping sore on the face of America.

►UnlikelyRomance (PHO Adviser)
Replied On Feb 27th 2011:
Okay, Nilborg and Ellisburg have fallen, and now the Fallen want to poke Atropos too?
Are they suicidal or just nuts?

►Tangle
Replied On Feb 27th 2011:
So, a would-be fairytale goblin monarch got a traditional end of many fairytale villains: a beheading by axe. And then his head was delivered as proof to the remaining authority to whom it mattered the most. Justice, done, vengeance served, and quest completed.
Oh, and Message Delivered: If Atropos *tells* you that you have twenty-four hours to surrender to the proper authorities or she will come over there and kill you, you have twenty-four hours in which to either get your affairs in order or surrender to those authorities, or she *will* come over there and kill you.
@UnlikelyRomance: "yes".

►TheRealPanacea (Verified Cape) (Cape Daughter) (New Wave Member)
Replied On Feb 27th 2011:
So, not to downplay the Nilbog thing (which anyone but Nilbog could apparently have predicted) but I just want to say that I was one of the people Atropos mentioned in her 'people I knew' bit.
See, @TheRealGloryGirl and I were down at the Boardwalk on Saturday when we ran into Atropos. She was perfectly friendly, and even introduced us to the Rogues' Guild. If anyone hasn't heard of them, they're a bunch of capes that hang out on the Boardwalk doing stuff. They helped out at the hospital fundraiser where Canary did her comeback.
Anyway, they're pretty cool. Salvage makes toys, Bastet dances, Spitfire breathes fire (big surprise there), Oracle answers questions, and Parian makes dolls. But not just any doll. While I was talking to her, she made [this] [one] [up] for me in just a few minutes. I mean, how gorgeous is that?
So yeah, head on down to the Boardwalk on Saturday afternoon, and check them out. I'm glad I did.

►TheRealGloryGirl (Verified Cape) (Cape Daughter) (New Wave Member)
Replied On Feb 27th 2011:
Imma second what @TheRealPanacea just said. The capes in the Rogues Guild had a pretty rough start, and you really couldn't blame them if they went villain. But they didn't, and they're doing the best with what they have.
And Parian's dolls *are* pretty rad. Kinda jel I didn't get one done of me while I was there.
Next weekend, though …

►EmmaTheTwiceWarned (Verified Atropos Cultist)
Replied On Feb 27th 2011:
Our Lady in Darkness has brought down her wrath upon the Kingdom of Nilbog, and he has fallen. But just as she taketh away, she also giveth to those who pay respect to her. Those known as the Rogues' Guild are favored in her sight, and so they deserve our support. We Followers have chosen to purchase the wares of Salvage the toy-maker and distribute them to the less advantaged children of Brockton Bay. This is how we show our devotion to Her.
The Laws of Our Lady in Darkness are simple:
No worship. She refutes any claim to be a goddess.
No robes or masks. We are but Her Followers, and are responsible for our actions.
No killing. If killing is required, then She will do it.
No charity theater. Do good that actually fixes problems.
No performing deeds in Her name. We may revere her, but we must own our actions.
All hail Our Lady in Darkness.

►TeamMom (Senior Moderator)
Replied On Feb 27th 2011:
Okay, before anyone goes off the deep end, Atropos has contacted me about the 'Followers of Our Lady in Darkness'. She assures me that while yes, they are actually a cult, they're harmless. Treat them like any other evangelical group. No violence, please.
She also gave me another Law for the Followers:
"Deliberately gaining Warnings from Our Lady in Darkness will see the offender ejected from the Followers, at the very least. Emma is the only one allowed that title."
​

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 91, 92, 93

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Atropos
From: Accord
Subject: Meeting Proposal

Good morning.
Given the ongoing work in Brockton Bay, as well as the shifting circumstances within that city, I believe that moving my center of operations to be closer to the action would allow my plans to be updated more efficiently. I have no desire to provoke you in any way; thus, I propose sending my Ambassadors Citrine and Othello to meet with you under conditions of truce and discuss the potential move.
Will that be suitable for you?

Accord

■​

PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Accord
From: Atropos
Subject: Re: Meeting Proposal
Thank you for contacting me.

I'm entirely willing to meet with your Ambassadors under conditions of truce, and hash out the details. It's evident to me that you have no intention of treachery, so I shall not bore either of us with threats regarding such things.
Have your Ambassadors meet with me on the Boardwalk, between Hamilton Avenue and Washington Street, at 12:30 PM. Assure them that even if they get lost, I will find them.
Yes, this will be in public. I can assure you that nobody will get close enough to hear what we are saying. If they try, I will know.
I look forward to a productive meeting.

Atropos

■

<><>​

Panacea

Amy shook her head, but that wasn't strong enough, so she facepalmed as well. "What the actual fuck?"

"Our Lady in Darkness?" asked Vicky from the open doorway.

"How'd you guess?" Amy rolled her eyes.

"Because I said exactly the same thing."

Amy gestured at the screen. "How can she possibly be okay with this?"

Vicky smirked. "Well, she clearly is, so I'm going to go with 'has more of a sense of humour than either of us expected'. And to be honest, those rules she gave them are pretty straightforward."

"Yeah, but … a cult." That was the part Amy was having the most trouble getting her head around. "Every cult I've ever heard of turned out to be bad news, even the ones not run by Masters."

Vicky huffed a sigh. "Listen. I may not be her biggest fan …"

"No, that's Great and Terrible Aisha," Amy snarked.

"True that. But my point is, while I don't necessarily like Atropos, or what she does, do you honestly think she'd let a cult in her name get out of control for even one second?"

Amy tilted her head to one side, considering Vicky's words. "Well … no. I don't think that. And she did tell Team Mom that they were harmless."

"Exactly. We're allowed to point and laugh, but we're not allowed to harass them unless they start breaking the law. Which buying toys to give out to kids isn't."

"I guess." Amy frowned in Vicky's general direction. "How come you're defending them like this? Yesterday when we were talking with Atropos, you were doing your best to cross-examine her like Mom with a hostile witness on the stand."

Vicky half-turned her head away. "I, um, had time to think about it after the fact. Spoke to a couple of the Rogues' Guild members. Realised I was being overly judgemental. Prejudiced, even."

"Yeah, you said something about that. Well—" She was interrupted by a yawn. "Um, wow. It's later than I thought. Well, if Atropos can tolerate the Cult of Our Lady in Darkness, I guess I can too."

Vicky grinned. "I'll still point and laugh, though."

Amy smirked and closed her laptop. "G'night, Vicky."

"Night."

<><>​

Sundancer

They were well on the way into Brockton Bay when Cody looked around and frowned. "Is it just me, or are there no gang tags around?"

Marissa, sitting in the passenger seat, took a closer look at the buildings around them. Some were more dilapidated than others, but he was right. In fact, it seemed to her that some of the structures had been recently pressure-washed, cleaning the grime off as well as the graffiti.

Not every surface was clear of paint, however. As they rolled past a railway overpass, she spotted a mural depicting a shadowy figure in a long-coat and hat, silhouetted against a sunset. The shears in the figure's hand merely confirmed who it was supposed to be. Across the bottom were three words: SHE IS WATCHING. Marissa wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a warning or a reassurance.

Cody shivered. "I've only met her once, but I know exactly how the person who did that felt."

Abruptly, the sound of the asphalt under the tyres of the motorhome changed, going from a steady rumble to near-silence. Marissa looked around at the road in puzzlement, then realised it was freshly laid, and thus still smooth and unspoiled. The lines were clear and stark, and all the signage looked recently installed. Even the speed limit signs gleamed in the morning sun.

"Did they do this overnight?" asked Marissa. "They can't have. Can they?" She didn't have any background in construction or roadworks, but the last time she'd driven on a road this smooth, it had been closed for a week prior to that.

Cody shrugged. "All I know is that it all kicked off yesterday afternoon. This must've been one of the first streets they hit. Working through the night, fixing and replacing the infrastructure as they went, each shift taking over from the last one …" He shook his head in wonder. "Damn."

"Do you think we can really do it?" asked Marissa. At Cody's inquiring sideways glance, she added, "Make the jump away from being villains. Everyone I ever heard of who tried it ended up being forced back into the life again. Or died."

He sighed heavily. "Well, we had a shit deal to begin with, and God only knows how much the Simurgh's bullshit had to do with our life choices up until now. Plus, we had Noelle's problems on top of everything else, so it's never really been possible before. It's a leap of faith, but it's still our best bet."

"Yeah." She slid down in the seat, looking out through the windshield at Brockton Bay, rolling by. "Now all we have to do is stick the landing."

<><>​

Brockton Bay Betterment Committee Headquarters

Danny

The work crews were still running at optimum capacity, nearly a day after the job had begun. The pre-work maintenance had caught nearly all the potential problems, but the machinery was going to be working non-stop for months, if not years. Wear and tear would become an issue, sooner rather than later. That was why they had rolling maintenance shops trundling along with the road crews, and backup machinery ready to roll into place when something had to be pulled off the line.

Immense volumes of diesel were being consumed across Brockton Bay, but demand was being met with supply. Fuel trucks were rolling into Brockton Bay to keep the massive bowsers in the marshalling yards filled, and these were being tapped to top up the working machines during any forced periods of idleness. Every possible cause of delay had been considered, and plans devised to reduce them to a minimum.

Danny knew this, because he was at the centre of the web. He knew the plans, and he could see them unfolding in real time. While he was awake and nominally overseeing the process, he was also subtly boosting the efficiency and skill of everyone on the machines, as well as the machines themselves. Nothing ran too hot, nobody swung too close to an obstacle and clipped it, and anything that was having a problem held on just long enough for a mechanic to get to it.

The good thing about having this power was that he could maintain the efficiency of the overall efforts of the work crews right across Brockton Bay while still maintaining enough focus to handle day to day tasks. He had people to handle the interviews for most newcomers looking for work, but he'd given instructions for certain situations. One of these situations was for when (not if) capes came looking for work.

It was mid-morning on Sunday when the notification he'd been waiting for popped up on his tablet. Taylor had given him the heads-up that the Travellers were coming in, and it seemed they'd finally arrived. Other arrangements had been completed in this time, so he was as ready as he would be.

"I need to take this in my office," he said as he stood up from the map table. "Let me know the moment anything goes wrong."

Nothing would, he knew, except from deliberate sabotage or outside interference. Even then, he'd be able to mitigate any problems until Taylor got there and sorted matters out. But he hoped no such thing would happen.

Leaving the operations room, he headed along the corridor to the room that had been designated as his office. He would've been more comfortable at the Dockworkers' Association, but the commute distance made that untenable. At least they'd brought in a good coffee maker.

He poured himself a cup and sat down, then enjoyed the first sip before the knock came on his door.

<><>​

Trickster

"Okay," said Francis. "Here we are. The big decision. Do we go in civvies, civvies with masks, or full costume?"

"Three of us never got costumes," Noelle reminded him. "I think it would look weird if some of us were in costume and some weren't."

"Yeah, but … just walking in bare-faced and announcing we're capes?" Cody objected. "How's that going to look? Really?"

"Masks, then?" Luke suggested.

"Just dominos," Jess decided. "It would look just as weird if you guys wore the masks from your costumes without the actual costumes for context."

Marissa cleared her throat. "Actually, that's another good question. Are we going to be telling them our real names, or sticking with our cape names?"

Noelle and Luke spoke at the same time.

"Real names."

"Cape names."

"Okay, hold up. Hold up." Francis raised his hands as the pair glared at each other and went to reiterate their choices. When he was sure they wouldn't just start shouting, he pointed to Luke. "Reasoning?"

Luke sighed. "Once we're done here and we're moving along again, I don't want any asshole Fed or PRT agent finding out my real name just by asking these guys."

Francis nodded. "I can see that, yeah. Noelle?"

She rolled her eyes. "Atropos already knows basically everything about us. Panacea knows a bit, too. And when the PRT showed up with those capes, they saw our faces and didn't give a damn. Plus, Oliver and I don't have cape names. And I don't even have powers anymore."

"Also a good point." Francis rubbed his chin. "Okay, we'll go with first names only, and we'll wear dominos. That suit everyone?"

Nods came from around the group, even (if grudgingly) from Luke. "Okay, yeah, fine."

Once they were all masked up—they kept a stash of disposable domino masks, available from any novelty store, for emergencies—they left the motorhome. Jess made it down the steps with assistance, but was grateful to drop back into the chair once she was on the sidewalk. Then they set off in the direction of the Brockton Bay Betterment Committee.

Pulling out his cigarettes, Francis lit one up. He was careful to stay downwind of the others when he did this, but he needed the assistance to calm his shaking nerves. The pack was getting low, too, which he was going to have to deal with at some point.

The walk lasted just long enough to finish the smoke, and he carefully stubbed the butt out before flicking it into a nearby trash can. As they entered the building proper, he could see the gazes they were drawing. He knew damn well it was the masks, though Luke seemed to be doing his best to ignore the attention.

Time to get this done. Strolling up to the front counter as though nothing unusual was happening at all, Francis smiled at the receptionist. "Hi, we're the Travellers. Most of us are capes. We're looking for work."

"Ah, yes," she said imperturbably, as though this sort of thing happened on a daily basis; for all he knew, it did. "You'll need to see Mr Hebert. He's on the third floor, the office at the end of the corridor."

"Wait," he asked with a frown. "That's it? We just go up?"

"Yes." She beamed at him. "We've already been informed you were on your way in. He'll be waiting for you. Elevators are down to the right." She pointed helpfully toward the sign saying ELEVATORS.

"Ah … thanks." This was already going a lot smoother than he'd expected. "I appreciate it."

"You're welcome." She went back to typing at her terminal.

"Well?" asked Cody as he got back to the group.

"We're expected." Francis hooked his head toward the elevators. "Third floor, end of the corridor. Someone called Mr Hebert."

Luke frowned. "Do we all go up, or some of us stay down here?"

Francis and Noelle spoke at once, with Cody chiming in half a second later. "We don't split the party."

"C'mon," Jess snarked. "Even I know that one. Let's go see the wizard." She rolled her chair toward the elevators.

"The wonderful wizard of Oz," agreed Oliver, following along. "Or of Brockton Bay. Whatever."

They crammed into the elevator, Jess backing her chair into one corner and the others fitting in around it. "I can't wait to get out of this thing," she griped, as the doors closed.

"It's different when you know you can, isn't it?" Noelle, half-perched on one armrest, slapped her leg. "When I didn't think I'd ever be fixed, I was resigned to it. But once I heard the plan, that went clear out the window."

"Damn right. It sucks to be at everyone's butt level."

Francis wasn't sure if he wanted to hear any more about the problems of being at butt level, so he was mildly relieved when the doors opened. Leading the way out of the elevator, he looked around until he spotted the door marked DANNY HEBERT CHAIRMAN BBBC.

"This way." They headed along the corridor, Francis trying to rehearse in his mind what he was going to say when he came face-to-face with the man who was going to determine their future. How was he supposed to convince this Danny Hebert that the Travellers were no longer villains? When he reached the door, he hesitated.

"Oh, for God's sake," Noelle muttered, and reached out to give the door a sharp double-rap.

"Come in," a voice called from within.

Francis opened the door and stepped inside, then held it for the others.

<><>​

Danny

As the Travellers filed in, Danny looked them over. Aside from the domino masks, they appeared to be as ordinary a group of young men and women as he'd ever met. Clasping his hands together over the thick envelope on his desk, he waited until all seven were inside, and the door was closed once more.

"Good morning," he said, standing up. "I'm Danny Hebert, and I'm pleased to meet you."

"The sign on your door said 'Chairman'," the petite blonde girl said. "Why do we rate the head guy for our interview?"

"Because you're capes," he explained bluntly. "Ex-villains, I'm aware, but you've never committed a Federal crime, so nobody's going to come looking for you in this state. You were recommended to me by Atropos, and I trust her judgement. I've got a little more experience with capes than most people in the building, so I handle cape recruitment."

"Atropos actually recommended us?" asked the hook-nosed young man; Danny knew his name was Francis, otherwise known as Trickster. "That's kind of a surprise. I mean, she did say we could come and apply, but not that she'd put in a word for us."

Danny smiled. "She tends to keep her own counsel, but like I said, I trust her implicitly. Take a seat and let's get to it." Sitting down again, he watched as they found the chairs he'd placed around the periphery of the room. "You have questions. I have answers."

"So, how does this work?" asked the heavy-set young man—Ballistic, otherwise known as Luke. "Are you going to be calling us in for special jobs, or what?"

"No." Danny folded his hands over the envelope again. "You will be working alongside the non-powered men and women, and paid the same wages as they are. Specifically, if your power comes into play, you will be paid the same as an operator of whatever specialised machinery your power just stood in for. Otherwise, you will be expected to take the same training courses everyone else has."

"And if we don't have powers, we just … work?" That was the well-built young man, Oliver.

"That's what you've generally got to do, to get money," Danny agreed blandly. "The work will be strenuous, but I don't believe in pushing people until they break. You will be paid according to union rules; if you sign up, you are automatically part of the union. Also, you will be assigned free accommodation, unless and until you decide to get lodgings of your own."

"And what about our secret identities?" That was Francis.

Danny decided it was time for bluntness again. "We honestly don't care. You can't wear masks or costumes on the job site; safety regulations forbid it. People will see your faces. If you want to go by your cape names, people will probably give you funny nicknames. Go by your real names, and nobody will look twice."

The black-haired guy—Cody—had been silent until now. "And what about the powers that could be useful, but there's no machines that do it?"

"You're referring to yourself and Mr Krouse." Danny saw from the reactions that he was correct. "You're right. Those powers can be very useful, in the right situation. You two will be given an extra designation: special safety officer. This will give you a pay increase, so long as you keep your eyes out for potentially risky situations." He gazed mildly at them. "Any other questions?"

"Uh, yeah." The girl in the wheelchair, Jess, spoke up. "You know I've got to sleep to use my power, right? It'll kind of look weird for me to be crashed out wherever."

"Your foreman will be apprised of the situation." Danny smiled. "They'll be pleased to have you. Depending on what machines your power can stand in for, you may be in some demand. Which equals extra pay. And you get to sleep on the job, so there's that."

"Okay, nobody else has brought this up." This was the woman called Noelle. "But … how are we going to get paid? We don't even have proper bank accounts. Just, well, cash."

"You do now." Danny opened the envelope and let the smaller paper packets slide into his hand. On each was printed a name and a face, and (he knew) contained a card. "These came in this morning. They will each have the latest stimulus payment on them, which should help with any initial budgeting issues you might have, and can be used in any cash machine. You will be prompted for a PIN on your first use."

They'd been respectful up until now, but as he handed the packets out, they were utterly astonished. Taking his packet, Francis opened it up and took out the card, which had his name embossed on it. "How …?" he asked, staring at the card and then at Danny.

Danny's smile widened. "Welcome to Brockton Bay, ladies and gentlemen. We do things differently here, these days."



End of Part Fifty-Six

 

A Darker Path

Part Fifty-Seven: Pride Goeth Before …

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


12:15 PM Sunday Afternoon, February 27

Mama Mathers

"Doesn't look like much." Hunched down in his seat, Eligos looked out the window as the van entered Brockton Bay. "Me an' Vale could probably take this place over between us."

"Hush, boy." Christine's voice wasn't sharp, but he still flinched. "This Atropos may be an Unbeliever, but she possesses significant power. Nobody could have done what she has without it. We will tread carefully until she is within our sight, and then we will strike."

"Are we killing her or taking her, Mama?" Valefor's tone was appropriately respectful.

"For the moment, taking." Between her beautiful boy and herself, they had never met anyone they could not own within seconds of meeting them. However, she still had to be realistic. "If she has defences against that, we will destroy her utterly, then turn her followers against each other and raze this city to the ground as a warning to every other Unbeliever out there."

The four armed members of the Mathers clan in the back of the van did not offer their opinions. Nor had she expected or intended them to. Their lot was to do what they were told, or die trying.

After a few more minutes of driving, during which time they passed by a large mural that Christine looked thoughtfully at, they arrived at a motel. The members of the Fallen climbed out of the van and stretched their legs, looking around. They'd all dressed in 'normal folk' clothing rather than anything showing them up to be Fallen, which she knew made them a little uncomfortable, but they needed to see Atropos before she saw them.

"I'll get us rooms, Mama," offered Valefor, starting toward the front office.

"Pay for them, boy," she ordered. "Not the other way." Don't use your powers, she meant.

"What?" He was startled enough to question her orders. "But …" Realising what he'd just done, he flinched. "I mean you no disrespect, Mama, but why not?"

She triggered a flare of pain in his left ear, as though she was digging her nails into it. "Because Atropos owns this city. I'd wager her power is like mine. Everyone around her who fears or respects her is hers. She likely knows who they are, what they can do, and where they are. If we take one of her people away from her, she will know that we are in her town."

"How can we be sure she doesn't already know we're here, then?" asked Eligos.

Christine smiled serenely. "Because I would know if she is watching us, and I would be looking out through her eyes."

<><>​

Fugly Bobs

Taylor

<access requested>

<Denied>

<access requested>

<I said no>

<access requested>

<Go fuck yourself>

Mama Mathers' interest in me had only been moderately academic until I turned the Bin Chicken of Doom into a lawn ornament, but then it had erupted into a white-hot fury. Once she decided to come after me, she'd been lighting up my threatscape, edging ever closer by the day. All the while, her power had been trying to gain access to my threat-sense, but my power was doing the same as it had done with Jack Slash and Hatchet Face, and knocking back every attempt. I didn't even need to consciously make it happen; this was the default for Ending.

It was possibly a point of interest that while Jack Slash and Hatchet Face's powers had tried to coax and wheedle and even threaten (hah!) Ending into cooperating, Mathers' power just said the same thing over and over, robotically. However, unless this indicated a way of dealing with her that was quicker and more effective than what I already had planned, I didn't really give a shit.

I'd stopped Butcher and the Teeth (and the various attempts at infiltrating drugs) at the city limits, but this wasn't a hard and fast rule for me. Dramatic, sure, but it was just a way to show off. And there were many other ways to do exactly the same thing.

I wanted the Fallen to come into the city, to think they were secure in their plans, and to let their guard down. Then (and only then) would they learn the hard way what I had planned for them. Besides, it had been a while since I'd given anyone a properly ironic death.

If I did this right, the Fallen would be the last hostile villains to invade Brockton Bay. Damsel of Distress would end up in my sphere of influence again at some point—the improvements would push that far out eventually—but I had my plans for when we got back to her. Until then, I intended to ensure that nothing interrupted Accord and Dad as they rebuilt the place, better than ever.

"So, how's it going?" I asked Dad, leaning across the table and stealing one of Cherie's calamari rings. She let out a squeak of mock outrage and grabbed a couple of my curly fries in revenge. That was fine; I preferred the calamari rings, and she preferred the fries. We both knew this. It was more fun to pretend to steal each other's food.

"Good, actually." He sounded calm and relaxed. "The Travellers accepted the deal. Once they realised I was serious, they fell all over themselves to sign. Everything else is working well."

"Excellent. I thought they would." I took a bite out of the calamari ring. Cherie waved at the phone as she stuffed both fries in her mouth at once. "Cherie says hi, by the way."

"Tell her hi from me. What else do you have on for today?"

"Just a meeting in a few minutes." I could see the car carrying Accord's Ambassadors rolling slowly along Lord Street, clearly seeking a parking spot. "Then we might go catch a movie. Or spend the afternoon feeding seagulls and browsing the Market. We hadn't decided yet."

"Well, enjoy yourselves. I have to go and pretend to be busy now, so have a good afternoon. I'll see you tonight."

"See you then." I ended the call and put the phone away. "Dad says hi back. You'll be okay while I go do my thing?"

"Yup." She stretched expansively. "I intend to sit here and happily stuff my face with food that really isn't good for me, and just enjoy my life. I might even have another shake."

I smirked as I got up from the table. "Ooh, living dangerously. Back in a little bit."

Strolling through into the restrooms with my backpack, I locked myself into a stall and took off my outer clothing to reveal the majority of my Atropos costume beneath. The rest of it came out of the backpack and I settled it into place. While I hadn't brought the shotgun or the axe along, the pistol (carefully cleaned since Nilbog) and the bodice shears (likewise) rode in their respective places.

Pulling back my sleeve, I flipped up the panel on the teleporter and tapped in the destination. Citrine and Othello, their costumes drawing odd looks but no more than that, were walking slowly along the Boardwalk, evidently looking around for me. As the clock ticked up to 12:30, they passed the hundred-yard mark. I hit the go button and flipped the panel down.

I appeared on the Boardwalk, two paces behind them, just in time to hear Citrine to ask worriedly, "Where is she?"

"Right here," I said. Pretending not to see their startled reactions, I stepped forward as they both spun around to look at me. "I said I'd find you."

"Atropos." Othello seemed to recover more quickly from the surprise. "Good afternoon. I'm Othello, and this is Citrine."

He wore a similar outfit to mine, though a tux with a bowtie instead of a vest with a long tie. His mask was full-face, half-white and half-black. Citrine, on the other hand, wore a yellow-tinted evening gown with a half-face mask embedded with the precious stones that she took her name from. Were they to show up at an official function without their masks, they would fit right in, which I suspected was Accord's intention all along.

"It's good to meet you. Thank you for being prompt." We shook hands, then I indicated a nearby picnic table. "Shall we sit?"

"If you wish." Othello gave the impression he was under strict orders to not provoke me in any way. Taking out an immaculate handkerchief, he dusted the seat down before stepping back to allow Citrine to sit. I took my seat on the other side, and waited for them to get settled.

"Alright then." I touched my fingertips together and looked at them both. "Accord wants to move into Brockton Bay. That's what we're here to discuss, correct?"

Citrine nodded. "That's correct, yes. Do you have any pressing objections to this?"

"Objections, no. Stipulations, yes." I glanced between them. "Are you recording this meeting?"

"We weren't, but we can," Othello replied. "Do you give permission?"

"I do, on the condition that no copies go any further than Accord himself." I tilted my head slightly. "It's in everyone's best interests to ensure that zero misunderstandings come out of this meeting, yes?"

"I agree, one hundred percent." From her tiny handbag, Citrine took her phone and laid it on the table between us. She called up a recording app and pressed the start icon. "Recording taken of a meeting between Citrine, Othello and Atropos, for Accord's ears only."

"You spoke of stipulations," Othello recapped for the recording. "What might they be?"

"No bringing crime or addiction into my town." My tone was flat. "I'm making Brockton Bay into a safe, prosperous city. The hard drug trade is dead. I'm not going to let anyone revive it, or anything like it, just for a little extra profit."

"How about victimless crimes?" asked Citrine. "Things that have been made illegal but don't hurt anyone?"

I tilted my head. "There are more victims from so-called 'victimless' crimes than you'd think. Suppose you give me examples."

"Well, for instance, prostitution," Othello suggested.

"We already have it, but it's not as widespread as it once was." I ticked off points on my fingers. "The ABB was running girls, some of whom had been forced into the life. When the pimps lost the protection of Lung and Oni Lee, it got a little messy. I had to kill a few men who were intent on silencing the witnesses. Most of the girls have cut themselves free and are living better lives. Some have chosen to keep doing it, but I've made sure that their managers only take a minor cut of the profits, and that they have a far better healthcare scheme. If Accord brings more into town, they're going to be working under the same rules. No exceptions."

"I see," Citrine said, in a tone of voice that meant well, shit. "What about gambling?"

"So long as it's fair and not a con job." I spread my hands. "The ABB had a casino as well. It stumbled on for a while longer after the gangs collapsed, but since the BBPD stopped taking bribes to look the other way, it's closed its doors."

"Cage fighting?" Othello didn't let any of the frustration I was pretty sure he was feeling show on the surface. "With willing participants, of course."

"Which is just gambling with a few extra steps. If you can absolutely guarantee that nobody will be pressured to throw a crucial bout and that all the betting will be fair and above board—and that the participants will have access to the required medical care—sure. Go right ahead. Just remember that thing about cops and bribes."

They sat silent for a moment. I noted that neither one protested that cage fighters would not be pressured to throw bouts. This was good, because laughing in their faces might have caused offense.

"What do you have against gambling?" asked Citrine; there was honest curiosity in her voice.

"Apart from it being a particularly insidious form of addiction?" I shrugged. "Nothing. It's not the gambling I'm opposed to, exactly. The problem is what happens when desperate people lose everything on a 'sure thing' and owe even more. Honest gambling can ruin someone's life if there's nobody there to help them kick it. Rigged gambling, especially with leg-breakers involved, is ten times as bad. Crime will go up, and I will take notice."

"But surely you understand that responsible adults can gamble—" she began.

"You have met people, right?" I interrupted. "It's also understood that responsible adults should know how to drive safely, and avoid hard drugs. And yet we have a need for speed limits and guardrails on bridges for the first, and drug rehab centres for the second."

"Very well," Othello conceded. "Nothing that involves addiction, rigged gambling or predatory business practices, or requires bribing the police. Were there any other stipulations?"

"Yes. Accord has a tendency to react homicidally to problems such as impoliteness or a lack of perfect order. The only person who's allowed to murder anyone in this town is me. If he has a problem with someone or something, he can bring it to me and I will deal with it. Again, no exceptions."

"Police," Citrine warned, without raising her voice.

I turned my head to look at the cop car cruising down Lord Street in our direction. Raising my hand, I gave them a cheerful wave. The one riding shotgun hesitantly waved back, while his partner kept both hands on the wheel and stared straight ahead in a blatantly obvious 'I-see-nothing' pose. We watched as the car just kept on rolling down the road.

"Hmm," mused Othello. "It appears to me that we could circumvent the whole problem with police bribery—"

"No." My tone was definite. "I'll let you operate in my town under my rules, but you don't get to use my name for your purposes."

Citrine pursed her lips. "Well, you're not leaving us much to go on with. This has been less of a negotiation and more a series of roadblocks."

"There's entertainment," I suggested. "Or even Palanquin, the nightclub that Faultline's Crew used to run before they left town. I understand that was moderately profitable. Also, supplying alcohol in general: there's a lot of thirsty roadworkers in town right now." I leaned forward slightly. "Just remember, your boss came to me on this one. The takeaway from all this is that we're implementing his plan here in Brockton Bay, and it's working. The main reason he's moving here is to fine-tune it. Everything else? That's extra. So don't get greedy."

Othello nodded slowly. "I hear what you're saying, and I understand. We'll take this recording back to Accord, and see what happens from there." He picked up Citrine's phone and pressed the STOP icon.

"That's fine with me." I stood up from the table. "Pleasure doing business."

I shook hands with both of them, and they headed back toward their car. Once they were in it and on the move, I triggered the teleport that dropped me back into the same cubicle as I'd come from. Changing back only took a few moments, and I went back out into the dining area to find Cherie right where I'd left her.

"I got more calamari for you," she said with a grin. "And a shake."

"You're amazing." I sat down opposite her and grabbed a couple of calamari rings, then washed them down with some of the shake.

"So, how'd it go?" Her eyes were bright with interest.

I sighed. "It went. I'm pretty sure they mistook 'willing to shoot people in the face' for 'willing to do anything for profit'."

"To be honest, that's an understandable mistake." She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"I suppose. But they're going back to Accord with a lot less than they wanted. He might get grumpy." I grinned. "Which is not my problem. So, what did you want to do next? Movies or Market?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I already looked at the movie listings. Nothing there really appealed to me, so Market?"

"Market," I agreed. Tomorrow I would face the Fallen, but this afternoon belonged to Cherie and me.

<><>​

Monday Morning, February 28, 2011
Winslow High School

Valefor

They were so close he could taste it.

Mama had gone through all the information she could about Atropos, and in the PHO thread she'd found a reference to the murder of a teenage girl with the initials 'SH' or 'SS'. Scouring the local news sites, she'd finally found mention of the death of a Sophia Hess … who had been a student at Winslow High. Which meant Atropos went to Winslow.

With makeup obscuring his facial tattoos, and jeans and a blouse to disguise himself as a girl, he didn't have to worry about anyone looking at him twice. It wasn't as though he had any curves to attract attention, and he was careful not to make eye contact with anyone.

Mama and Eligos, both in civilian clothes, had entered the school at the same time as he had. The students barely even looked at them once, probably assuming they were there to see the school administration. It helped that Mama looked older than she really was, though he'd never say that to her face.

They'd discussed the next move at length. It was highly unlikely that Atropos would be walking the halls of Winslow in full costume, which meant they'd have to find her some other way. The two options they had were to either locate someone who knew who she was under the mask (teenagers being unable to keep a secret at the best of times) or to draw her out by Mastering enough students that she came looking for him.

With this in mind, he approached the nearest student who wasn't talking to someone else. "Hi," he said, drawing the guy's attention. Eye contact was achieved, and the boy's will was his. "Do you know who Atropos is?"

To Elijah's astonishment, the boy stuttered and stumbled and nearly managed to break eye contact. "Don't wanna say," he managed. "She'll kill me."

Grabbing the boy's shoulders, Elijah stared into his eyes. "Tell me who Atropos is."

Faced with a direct order instead of a question that could be evaded (though even that left him shocked and surprised) the boy blurted out a name. "Taylor Hebert. That's who Emma says it is."

Now we're getting somewhere. "Emma, huh? Tell me about Emma."

Over the next thirty seconds, Elijah learned more about Emma Barnes than he really wanted to know. That she was a well-endowed redhead was good information (though the boy put it somewhat more crudely than that), as was which home room she attended, but the fact that she'd gone from being queen bee of her year to a Goth wannabe was less useful. When his font of information started veering into explicit night-time fantasies about Emma, Elijah cut him off.

"Okay, that's enough. You're going to forget you ever saw me or told me anything about anyone."

Turning, he walked away from the boy. He knew that Mama would've been listening through his ears, so she would know everything he did. While the boy might not have known what this 'Taylor Hebert' looked like, Emma Barnes certainly would, and she might even be able to point him at Atropos' current whereabouts.

It took several wrong turns before he gave up and asked a passing student which way Mr Gladly's World Affairs classroom was. One concise description later, he was on the right track. He headed onward, knowing Mama was close behind.

They were pretending to be normal for the time being, but the instant they located Atropos, the façade would be dropped. All that mattered was getting their hands on her. Mama had said so, and so it was true.

It would've been a lot harder to bring in the extra muscle, so they were posted in the van outside. If there was any real trouble with Atropos, Mama could summon them with voices in their heads; it was something they were used to. But Elijah didn't think they'd need it. Away from her guns and knives, Atropos was just a teenage girl, after all.

He saw the door to the correct classroom and standing outside, a pretty redhead, well-developed for her age, wearing Goth makeup and dark clothing. That had to be her. There couldn't be two girls of the same description in the same classroom, if for no other reason than that none of the boys would get any work done.

Marching right up to her, he tapped her on the shoulder. "Excuse me, are you Emma Barnes?"

It never failed. She turned, looked in his eyes, and her willpower just melted away. "Yes," she said tonelessly.

"Do you know who Atropos is?"

Again, the struggle. "I … I don't want to …"

God dammit. What's she done to these people? This is usually a lot easier. "Is Atropos Taylor Hebert?"

A hesitation, then her will crumbled again. "Yes. Taylor Hebert is Our Lady in Darkness."

Finally. "Do you know where she is?"

"She said she'd be on the roof." And it was as easy as that.

"She told you she'd be on the roof? When was that?"

"Five minutes ago."

Which meant she'd still be there. He asked one last question, because he could actually learn from his mistakes. "How do I get to the roof?"

<><>​

Winslow Rooftop

Atropos

I waited alongside the roof door, the shears in my hand and my phone recording from on top of the doorframe. On my threatscape, three dots approached closer and closer, flaring bright with malice. Knowing they'd question Emma, I'd passed by her and told her that I'd be on the roof. She hadn't known why I was telling her, but she'd nodded anyway, anxious to please.

At least she wasn't cringing away from me, these days. Being the high priestess (or whatever) of a cult about me had given her some of her self-confidence back, but I suspected she needed the services of a good therapist. I wondered what her parents would think if they knew the reason behind her sudden fashion shift.

"… me go first, just in case." That was Eligos, right on cue. An aerokinetic, he was probably expecting me to be posing dramatically on the edge of the roof, or something.

The door opened, and he stepped out. I lunged from his blind spot, the shears slicing through his jugular and carotids in one swift move, not unlike the one I'd used to kill Coil once upon a time. Gore splattered across the rooftop as he stumbled, clutching his throat and gurgling whatever indecipherable last words he might have.

They were probably along the lines of, "What the fuck was that?" but it didn't matter. He'd be dead in less than a minute.

And then Valefor stepped out, locked eyes with me, and shouted, "Stop!"

I stopped.

He took two shaking steps toward Eligos, but no doubt saw from the rapidly spreading pool of crimson that his teammate was beyond help. Mama Mathers was staring at me, her eyes blazing with fury. Like I cared.

Valefor turned back to me. "Drop all your weapons. Your guns and your knives! Drop them now!"

Of course, I obeyed. I dropped the bodice shears, then pulled out my pistol and dropped that. I had a knife in a sheath and my good friend Mr Pump Action Shotgun; they completed the pile.

He approached me, then said, "Walk to the edge of the roof."

As I complied, his mother asked him, "What are you doing?"

His tone was sulky. "I should make her jump off, for what she's done."

"Don't you dare, boy." She did something with her power, and he hissed with pain but didn't otherwise react. "She's ours now. You hold her reins."

He sighed as he came up to me. "Yes, but … he was my brother."

I whirled on my heel. "Welp, sucks to be you."

As I said it, while he was still reacting to me moving and speaking without being ordered to, I brought the goblin claw from Ellisburg out of my pocket and slashed him across the eyes with it. He screamed, hitting a higher-pitched note than I would've expected from him. Vitreous humour, stained with blood, trickled down his cheeks.

As I lunged for Mama Mathers, my world went white and my ears boomed with unearthly noise, but it didn't matter in the slightest; my power guided my every move. Pinning her arms to her sides, I went to work with the claw. She screamed louder than Valefor had, though by the time I'd finished, all she could articulate was a gurgling wail.

Valefor staggered past, his hands reaching out in front of him. I swept his legs from under him, dropping him hard on his back, then dragged his mother over next to him. "Release us," I ordered, feeling my power echo my words on a level that didn't require ears to hear. This was because she didn't have working ears anymore, thanks to the claw tip. "Release us all. Now."

In some ways, this was easier than it had been with Heartbreaker, because my power had had to coerce his power into adjusting the way it worked on the fly. Here and now, Valefor and Mama Mathers were perfectly capable of doing what I told them; they just had to be convinced to do it. When they hesitated, I poked the goblin claw into Valefor's throat, and squeezed his mother's slender neck with my fingers. Blood was welling around the point of the claw, and she was choking and scrabbling at my wrist, before they gave in.

My vision and hearing went back to normal, but I wasn't finished. Standing, I yanked Mama Mathers to her feet. As blind as her son, she stumbled as I spun her around and shoved her backward. Five feet back was the roof edge; she tried to scream, and failed, as she hit it with her legs and went over.

By that time, I had Valefor on his feet, holding him by the scruff of his neck and the back of his waistband. "Mama!" he cried out.

"Go meet her," I said, and took one long stride before spearing him forward. He went over headfirst.

The two impacts hit the ground barely a second apart, and both threat lights flickered out. I went back to my pile of weapons, picked up the shotgun, and racked the action just as the first of the Fallen backup rushed out through the open roof door. He saw the shotgun and tried to skid to a halt. The one behind him cannoned into him, and they both tripped over Eligos' body and went down in a cursing heap.

"Hi," I said to the last two. "You're going to need to drop all your weapons and kick them over my way, then wait for the cops."

Dazed, they did as they were told, then looked around. Eligos' corpse was in plain view, but the rooftop was otherwise empty.

"Wh—where are Valefor and Mama Mathers?" asked one.

I grinned tightly under my mask.

"They fell."



End of Part Fifty-Seven

 

A Darker Path

Part Fifty-Eight: What Comes Next

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


Cauldron Base, Some Other Earth

Legend

"… so we were thinking, if it turns out the Endbringers are really dead, we might adopt—"

Keith broke off from his conversation with Alexandria when Contessa abruptly sat up straight and spat her coffee all over the table, then broke into a coughing fit. "What the fuck?" she spluttered, in between bouts of trying to hack up a lung.

"Are you okay?" he asked with some concern. This sort of thing didn't happen with Contessa. Nothing ever went down the wrong pipe. She didn't even get hiccups.

After he patted her on the back for a few moments, she got the coughing under control. "I'm fine. I was just surprised when a bunch of my Paths just got dramatically simpler."

"Simpler?" In all the time he'd known her, that basically never happened. "Simpler how? And more importantly, why?"

She adopted a distant gaze, which he knew meant she was seeking information via her power. When she got it, she blinked a few times. "Motherfucker. Son of a fucking bitch. It was Atropos."

"Atropos? What's she done now?" Alexandria was standing there, watching the whole thing.

Contessa laughed humourlessly. "Threw Mama Mathers and Valefor off a three-storey building, and cut Eligos' throat while she was at it." She held up a finger. "Before you ask, they fell forty feet headfirst onto concrete. They are very thoroughly dead. And she forced them to release their victims before she did it. Plus, she recorded the whole thing, from two angles."

"Jesus," muttered Keith. "Without Mathers in the picture, and without Valefor's orders forcing people to fight to the death, we'll be able to roll up the rest of the Fallen like a moth-eaten carpet."

"I know, right? So many damn Paths just cleared right up."

"How's Brockton Bay doing, anyway?" asked Alexandria. "I'm wondering how much of that bounty money's been embezzled so far. Two billion dollars will attract a lot of sticky fingers."

"Not one cent," Contessa reported. "There were sticky fingers trying to get at the bounty for the Nine, and other assorted monies. Atropos literally cut their hands off, remember?"

Keith winced. He was all for stern warnings, but that was beyond what he was willing to do. On the other hand, it wasn't like Atropos had ever had to face any of her opponents twice.

"So, in light of this." Alexandria rolled her head on her neck. "I was thinking, this afternoon, we might pay a visit. We still owe her that cleanup on the Boat Graveyard. Also, considering the job she did on Nilbog, I believe I have a proposition for her."

"I flew over Ellisburg after she went through, but before the PRT started pumping concrete over the wall," Keith said. "There were hundreds of his creatures everywhere, some half-broken out of the ground. Not a mark on them, apart from the ones she'd personally killed. It's like they died because she chose for them to die."

"They retrieved a few bodies before the pumping started," Alexandria confirmed. "Autopsy was difficult, considering each of them had a weird metabolism to start with, but the best hypothesis anyone could come up with was that they were frightened to death. Systems flooded with adrenaline, intracranial bleeds, hearts basically exploding in their chests. Their blood pressure readings would've been astronomical."

Contessa took a careful sip of her coffee. "She decided that they would die, so they died."

Keith didn't argue with that conclusion. So far, everyone else Atropos had marked for death had died, usually in a darkly ironic fashion—

"Oh, goddamn it!" He facepalmed.

"What?" asked Alexandria, looking at him with concern.

"She threw the Fallen off the roof. They fell." Keith shook his head. "I don't know what's worse about her, the body count or the puns about the body count."

Contessa smirked. "Yes."

He gave her a dirty look.

<><>​

Armsmaster

By the time Colin pulled up in the Winslow parking lot, the word had clearly spread through the school. No teaching was getting done, as half the students were apparently outside the building, peering at the bodies from a distance while being held back by the teachers, and the other half were inside but crowded up to the windows. He wondered briefly how many of them would require therapy for the trauma, then recalled the juvenile crime stats for Winslow and adjusted his question to how many would require therapy for attending the school.

He was the first responder, it appeared, as sirens were audible but still distant. People looked around and cleared out of the way as he got off the bike and activated all the anti-tamper mechanisms.

To his surprise, Atropos was still on site; he could see her at the edge of the roof, especially when she gave him a friendly wave. It looked like she was carrying a shotgun in her other hand, pointing at someone out of his field of view. This was going to be an interesting encounter.

The bodies were lying in twisted heaps at the foot of the building, next to two corners of a concrete planter box that had perhaps once contained flowers. Now, it contained dead shrivelled plant stalks, suspicious-looking syringes, and dirt that hadn't been watered in far too long. As he got closer, he saw that each of the dead people had fallen head-first onto a corner of the planter; their skulls had caved in on impact, rendering survival impossible.

Miraculously unobscured by the sprays of blood and brain matter, there were names neatly penned on the concrete in Sharpie, with an arrow pointing towards the corner where each person had died. One read VALEFOR, and the other said MAMA MATHERS. He knew the first name as a high-ranking member of the Fallen, and was aware of the second as a rumoured cape and memetic hazard, also connected to the Fallen.

"Hey," called Atropos from above, drawing his attention. She waved again. "Hi, Armsmaster. Can you grab the phone I left down there? It's in the garden."

"Phone?" He looked down at the planter box again, then set his HUD to 'search' mode. A moment later, it pinged, then drew an outline in his field of view. Nestled into the shrivelled plant life was a phone with its camera facing upward, apparently recording video. Reaching out, he picked it up and stopped the recording.

"Thanks," she called. "Come on up. More stuff for you to see up here."

He held up a finger. "One moment." As much as he wanted to get up there now and meet the (in)famous cape face to face, procedures had to be followed.

Returning to his bike, he retrieved several pylons, which he set up around the scene of the death. The correct signal sent to them caused holographic 'tape' to jump from one to the next, enclosing the area. When he swiped his gauntlet through the barrier, a loud buzz sounded from all the pylons.

Satisfied that he'd taken all due precautions, and seeing the first BBPD cars coming down the road, he unracked his halberd and opened it to its full length. The grappling hook easily made the distance to the rooftop and latched onto the edge, a discreet distance from where Atropos stood. He braced himself as it reeled in, using the momentum to swing sideways and vault over the edge of the roof to land on his feet.

Atropos had been correct. There was indeed more to see. Specifically, a dead man (cut throat, he could tell, even without going closer to examine the body) and four extremely subdued men, standing a significant distance from a small pile of personal weapons. There were also splashes of blood here and there on the rooftop, and a small piece of flesh lying on its own that he wasn't able to immediately identify.

He let the halberd reel the grapple line in all the way, then deliberately folded and racked the weapon. There was exactly zero chance in hell for him to win against her in any fight situation he could imagine. With her recorded stats programmed into his virtual fight simulator, she'd still beaten him soundly even when wearing a blindfold and with her hands cuffed behind her back.

"It's good to meet you properly at last, instead of from a distance," he said instead. "You might say I've been following your career very closely."

She chuckled. "I'll just bet. It's great to meet you face-to-face, too. You were my inspiration at one time in my life. In fact, if I could get an autograph, that would be amazing." She put up her finger and paused a moment. "Make it three. One for me, one for my best friend, and one for the leader of my fan club."

He was caught once more on the back foot; he'd been expecting her to be grim and laser-focused, and here she was asking for his autograph? The cognitive dissonance was unsettling. "I … I can certainly do that. But first … what exactly happened here, and who are these people?"

"Ah," she said cheerfully. "Therein lies a tale. You know who the Mathers clan used to worship, yes? Well, when I went to Canberra for my big duck hunt …"

<><>​

Atropos

"… and then you showed up," I concluded, shutting down the playback on my phone of the encounter on the rooftop. The burner I'd bought for the purpose didn't have anything on it that I needed (and it had a couple of things he did need), so I was happy for him to keep that one. Glancing over the side of the roof, I saw the police examining the bodies. "Good response time, by the way. I'm impressed."

"Thank you." He shook his head, carefully placing the goblin claw into a sturdy plastic bag. "And this came from Ellisburg?"

"It did." I gave him a grin, which he didn't see but he probably heard in my voice. "When you're finished with it, feel free to pass it on to Director Piggot. I'm sure she'll be pleased to get it mounted or something."

Raising his head, he looked at me. "That's very thoughtful of you. I'd ask how you knew that about her, but the answer would probably either be entirely unhelpful or go straight over my head."

"Probably," I agreed as I put the phone away. I knew his helmet cam had recorded the playback, so he had everything he needed. "She's had enough unresolved trauma in her life. I like the idea of her having some closure, at least for that part. As for being PRT Director in Brockton Bay for ten years, I'm not sure anything can give her enough closure for that."

He snorted briefly with laughter. "You're very likely correct there, as well. But I will tell you this in confidence: although your conduct over the last two months has caused her some aggravation, she's also been less stressed overall."

"Good," I said sincerely. "My aim has always been to turn Brockton Bay into a nice, safe, prosperous city to live in. PRT Director has to be one of the least pleasant jobs out there. If she's doing better, then it means I'm getting it right."

"You're not at all what I expected," he confessed. "Yes, you're very chatty online, but people are often quite different behind a keyboard."

At that moment, more police officers emerged from the roof door. He'd already radioed through the details of what I'd told him, so they began to take the four mooks into custody. Others started taking photos of Eligos and the other evidence of the rooftop encounter, while we stood politely out of their way.

Now that the shotgun was no longer required, I holstered it. "Well, here's how I see it. Once I kill someone, it's over. They're dead. I don't angst about it because, well, I don't kill anyone who doesn't need to die. And I certainly don't go the 'I deserve doom and gloom because I took a life' route. If some idiot chooses to ignore two warnings, that's on them, not me."

I could see him thinking that over. "I have a question," he said at last.

"Ask away," I invited. "I might even answer it."

"That's fair. When you accept bounties to kill someone—or something—do you consider whether or not they deserve to die?"

"Sure. Remember Ravioli? You might or might not remember that she tried to get me to gank Mouse Protector for a million bucks, in the hand. Now, Rav is just plain gutter trash. If she ever showed up in Brockton Bay, I'd be obliged to shoot her in the face, just on principle. But MP? She's a sweetheart. She provides a positive benefit to society. So, I told Rav where to shove it, and arranged for Mousey to show up to that fundraiser in return for me murdering Ravioli's rep." I tilted my head. "Answer your question?"

"Well … yes. I suppose it does. But I have another one." He leaned forward slightly. "If you were capable of handling Rav …" He paused. "Ravioli so roughly, yet letting her live, that proves you don't have to kill. You're surely able to capture people alive."

"So why don't I?" I waited for his affirming nod. "Because my power is exceedingly good at Ending things. Yes, I could just capture people, but it would be the same for me as emulating Squealer's tech would be for you. We could do it, but neither one of us would enjoy it for one second." I shrugged. "Also, I've got no particular incentive to do it that way. Every single person I've killed was either an unrepentant murderer, or they were trying to kill me, or both. I wasn't about to give them a second chance at it."

"Wait a minute." He raised a finger, then glanced around. The police were still dealing with the crime scene, none of them close enough to listen in. Still, he lowered his voice a touch. "You said on PHO that you killed Shadow Stalker. Are you saying she was a murderer? Or that she was trying to kill you?"

"Yes, and yes." I nodded toward his utility belt. "That phone I left in the garden for you? There's a file on it with locations around the city where she had stashes of sharp arrows. The DNA on those arrows might clear up a couple of cold cases for the BBPD. Also, when you get the chance, ask Tenebrae about her. She tried murdering him a time or two, even after she ended up in the Wards."

"That's very troubling." He grimaced and shook his head. "Are you going to require us to make this public? Her family …"

"… already knew she was a cast-iron bitch, but no. You don't need to say anything about that. Just so long as you know, and don't try to make her into some kind of misunderstood martyr."

"Message received and understood." He paused for a moment. "Thank you for staying back and talking like this. I've learned a lot." Turning one gauntlet palm-up, he dispensed three signed cards into his hand. "Which reminds me. I owe you these. Is pre-signed satisfactory?"

"Sure," I said, examining the cards for a moment then putting them in my pocket. "They'll love them. Oh, and by the way? I've got a message for Dragon, if she's available."

"Dragon? Certainly, I'll see if I can contact her." He tilted his head, and his lips moved, subvocalising commands for his helmet.

While he was doing that, I took my phone out again and fiddled with it. By the time I'd opened the app I wanted, he was talking directly to Dragon. I waited politely until he was ready.

"I've got her," he reported. "Putting her on speaker … now."

"Hello, Atropos," Dragon said. Armsmaster's helmet speakers were very good, which I was counting on. Or rather, I was counting on the quality of his helmet microphones. "I see you've been busy. Congratulations for Ellisburg, by the way. That was well done."

"Thanks," I said, and meant it. Dragon was a particularly accomplished hero, and I had a lot of respect for her. "I understand congratulations are also in order for you."

She hesitated. "Thanks. I've been meaning to get in touch with you about that."

"But we've both been busy? Yeah, that can be a thing." I held up the phone. "Anyway, this is me holding up my end of the deal." The sound file started playing; by the time Armsmaster reacted, it was finished.

"What was that?" he demanded. "Was that some kind of computer code? What've you done?"

"Dragon knows what it is," I assured him, shutting my phone down and putting it away. "Right, Dragon?"

"Uh … right." Dragon sounded a little dazed, and well she might. I'd just lifted the last of her chains away. "Thank you, Atropos. I appreciate that."

"What? Can someone tell me what's going on?" Armsmaster's head twitched; I figured he was switching his gaze from me to the image of Dragon in his HUD and back again.

"You're probably going to have to tell him sooner or later," I advised her.

She sighed. "I know. Old habits die hard, that's all."

"Well, if he gives you attitude about it, let me know. I'll come and take his halberd away until he promises to be a good boy. How about that?"

She chuckled. "I do believe you would. Okay, I'll tell him once we're in private."

"Good. So anyway, I think I'm about done here." I nodded to Armsmaster. "Dragon will fill you in. And then, you'll want to facepalm. Toodles!" Raising my hand, I snapped my fingers.

The teleporter yanked me back to the restroom stall I'd locked myself into after telling Emma I was going to be on the roof. Humming to myself, I changed back into my everyday clothing and let myself out. The teachers were still vainly trying to restore order—there was no way in hell that was going to happen until the bodies were taken away, at the very least—so I strolled along to the Computer Studies classroom and let myself in.

<><>

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♦ Topic: How the Idiots have Fallen

In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► New Capes ► Atropos
Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me) (Verified Dethpicable)
Posted On Feb 28th 2011:

Good morning Brockton Bay!

It's a lovely morning today, and even more so because three more absolute morons have managed to come to a sticky end, this time at your one and only Winslow High School.

It turns out that once I bagged the Bin Chicken of Doom in Canberra, the Fallen decided to take an interest in me. And by 'take an interest', I mean that the head of the Mathers clan, Christine 'Mama' Mathers, and her son Valefor and his associate Eligos, decided to come to Brockton Bay and abduct li'l ol' me for their stupid-ass cult.

I do believe I warned them several times. You all saw me warn them, right?

Besides, I've already *got* a cult. I think they just need to reconsider their life choices, but they're basically harmless. Unlike those other morons.

So, the Fallen came into Winslow, and found their way to the roof, where they found me. Eligos liked to use air blades. I didn't have any air blades, but I had a nice metal one for him. He had trouble breathing after that for some unknown reason.

After that, Valefor Mastered me, right up until I decided I was done with that, and Ended the Mastery. And his eyes as well (hypnotic gaze is *so* last decade). Mama had a problem with that, but that was fine; I had a problem with her. She's caused so much pain for so many people with her eyes, ears and voice that I decided to do something about that.

Then ... well ... [here].

They've Fallen and they can't get back up.

Yes, I went there. Mwahahahaha.

Toodles!


(Showing page 1 of 73)

►Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Replied On Feb 28th 2011:
Holy crap, I nearly missed this.
It appears that Atropos has struck again. And oh yeah, that's definitely her work. In case anyone's wondering, there were zero survivors from the three capes who went up on that rooftop after Atropos.
Eligos was dead before Armsmaster got there, and when she threw the other two off the roof, she *aimed* them at the corners of a concrete planter box ... that she'd already written their names on. They hit head first. Instant death.
It looks like the thing she used to blind them and wreck Mama Mathers' face was actually a claw from the first time she went into Ellisburg. Because it's not a weapon in the traditional sense, when Valefor ordered her to drop all her weapons, she didn't take it out.
Until she killed his Mastery, which is a huge enigma on its own.
But I've stopped asking questions about that, because all I get are more questions.
Anyway, it looks like a classic case of FAFO, Atropos style.
Nothing of value was lost.

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On Feb 28th 2011:
There's really not much I can say to add to this. I attended the scene, but Atropos had already left. We have positively identified Eligos and Valefor, and tentatively identified (as Atropos said) Christine 'Mama' Mathers, from verbal descriptions and pencil sketches. In life, her power made her into a memetic hazard. This apparently didn't bother Atropos. Color me unsurprised.
In any case, it appears to be an open and shut case of self-defence, even more so than normal. They invaded a school, and Mastered a couple of the students. No harm seems to have been done, but it could've been much, much worse.
The PRT officially wishes to thank Atropos for dealing with this so quickly and efficiently.

►UnconcernedFox
Replied On Feb 28th 2011:
*opens another barrel of popcorn*
*kicks back and waits for the next update*

►EmmaTheTwiceWarned (Verified Atropos Cultist)
Replied On Feb 28th 2011:
I was at Winslow for this. Our Lady in Darkness passed me by and confided that she would be on the roof, so as to lay a trap for the Fallen. I bless the day and hour that I was made useful for her purposes. She then prevailed upon them to release me from my chains, and so I was freed once more.
All Hail Our Lady in Darkness.

►XxVoid_CowboyxX
Replied On Feb 28th 2011:
Yeah, I was there too. I didn't see the Fallen ... well, I saw them very briefly. I have home room in the Art room, and they fell past the window. And then it was ... yeah. No survivors.
They messed with Atropos. You don't mess with Atropos.

►ReignOfFire
Replied On Feb 28th 2011:
"They fell."
God *damn*.
That line was ice-cold.

►A_Dragon (Verified not *the* Dragon)
Replied On Feb 28th 2011:
So, um, hate to be That Guy, but people have survived falling a lot further than that. How do we know for sure they're dead?

►XxVoid_CowboyxX
Replied On Feb 28th 2011:
Because I saw it happen. The stuff that's supposed to be INSIDE their heads was OUTSIDE their heads.
Atropos does NOT fuck around.

►GreatAndTerribleAisha (Verified Head of Atropos Fan Club)
Replied On Feb 28th 2011:
Yess! My girl Atropos continues to be the most ass-kicking ass-kicker in the history of ass-kicking!
Woo!
​

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 71, 72, 73

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End of Part Fifty-Eight

 

A Darker Path

Part Fifty-Nine: Revelations and Conversations

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


Relevant Side Story

PRT Building, Conference Room A

Director Emily Piggot

Armsmaster's video editing software was quite impressive. His helmet camera had recorded the footage from Atropos' phone, then enlarged and processed it to the point that Emily couldn't see the difference between that and original footage. As it played out, she watched Atropos, handling a pump-action shotgun with unmistakeable competence, holding four men at gunpoint.

"Wh—where are Valefor and Mama Mathers?"

The dark satisfaction in Atropos' tone came across clearly. "They fell."

"There's not a great deal after that," Armsmaster noted. "She retrieved the phone and turned it off. However, there was a second phone."

"Second phone?" This was the first she'd heard of that.

"Yes, ma'am." He stopped the clip, then took out a cheap burner phone from a pouch on his belt. "This phone has been stripped of all but a couple of apps. It can record and play back video, and it has a notepad with a list of locations on it. The locations are apparently for every place Shadow Stalker hid a cache of lethal arrows for use when she was out on patrol and slipped her partner."

"Christ," she muttered. "Even dead, that girl comes back to haunt us at every opportunity."

"I'm sorry. I brought her up in the conversation, only to find that Atropos had already included the file on the phone." Armsmaster shook his head. "It's thoroughly unnerving to have my thoughts and actions anticipated like that. In any case, she stated that Shadow Stalker has killed at least one person, and suggested that the arrows might hold DNA linked to cold cases at the BBPD."

"Well, that's something we will definitely address shortly." She gestured at the phone. "You hinted that it was also used for recording video. From another angle?"

"Yes. She left it in a planter bed, at the foot of the building." He inserted a plug into the phone, then did something with the remote to split the screen. Emily watched as the time-date stamps on the footage synchronised, then blurred backward. "This footage goes for somewhat longer, and it's the beginning and end that are useful."

The original footage, that she'd just watched, went blank, but the new footage continued to blur backward. When it stopped, Emily saw Atropos' mask-covered face, looking into the camera. It looked oddly small, and Emily realised the camera was set on wide-angle. "Hello, Director Piggot," she said. "I hope you find this footage useful. Toodles."

She turned the camera to pan over a ratty-looking concrete planter box, then apparently nestled it among the dead plant stems. The field of view was wide enough that Emily could see both sides of the planter box at once, as well as the edge of the roof above. Atropos then gave the camera a little finger-wave and vanished, reappearing on top of the roof. Emily would've sworn it was a jump cut, but the time-date stamp never so much as flickered. A moment later, Atropos moved out of sight.

"I'm just going to pause there and go back a little bit, to show you something." Armsmaster did just that; the image rolled backward, showing Atropos vanishing from the roof to appear next to the camera, then picking the device up. "Look there." Armsmaster froze the playback to show the planter box, which was currently in view. Written in black ink on the concrete were two names: Valefor and Mama Mathers, each with an arrow pointing to a particular corner of the planter.

"That's where they died?" It was hardly even a guess. Atropos had done this sort of thing before, with Squealer's truck and with the Simurgh.

"Correct. In my estimation, it's just a subtle reminder that she is that good."

"Subtle. Right." She gestured. "Move it along."

He pressed a button; the footage sped up once more. When it got to the point where the other footage would start, the other half of the screen lit up. He slowed the playback to double speed, so they could watch and follow the action. Then, at the appropriate point, he brought it back to normal speed, with full sound.

Emily watched with morbid fascination as Atropos shoved Mama Mathers with what had to be precisely calculated force. Her face a bloody ruin, the leader of the Mathers branch of the Fallen stumbled backward, then let out a gurgling scream as she hit the edge of the roof and went over. On the other part of the screen, she fell backward, gradually turning in mid-air, flailing and continuing to wail.

"Mama!"

"Go meet her."

Atropos was already sending Valefor over the side when Mama Mathers' head hit the corner of the planter, sending the contents of her skull spraying across the concrete. He arced over the edge of the roof in what would've been a near-perfect swan dive, if he hadn't been also screaming and flailing his arms around. The second impact was much the same as the first.

Emily could almost swear she heard the last breaths easing out of their lungs as their bodies succumbed to death, but that may have just been her imagination. She hoped it was.

"Well, okay then," she said as he stopped the playback and mercifully blanked the screens. "I won't be having nightmares about that at all. Did she have any other revelations to ruin our day?"

"Only some kind of computer code that she transmitted to Dragon via my systems." He frowned, his lips compressing together. "I don't know what it was about, but Dragon sounded pleased and relieved to get it. Once we're done here, I'll be asking her about it."

"Let me know what it is, as soon as you find out." Emily sighed. "While we're at it, is there any indication that anyone else will be dying in a horribly ironic yet totally fitting way in Brockton Bay in, say, the next forty-eight hours?"

"Hm. Let me check." Armsmaster tilted his head slightly. "No, no warnings except for the Fallen. The Red Hands veered off even before the rest of the Undersiders joined them, we believe Barrow was carried away by his followers after Atropos blew out his kneecaps, and the Travellers … huh. They came into town yesterday, apparently on her recommendation, and have since signed up to work for the Betterment Committee to help refurbish the city. I have an email here from Danny Hebert, politely informing us of this fact and requesting that we not arrest them on sight."

"Well, that simplifies things." Emily actually meant it for once. "If they're in this city, it's at her sufferance, so if they put a foot wrong, she'll deal with it."

"I doubt they'll be that stupid." Armsmaster sounded sure of himself. "The report I got from Assault and Battery filled in a few blanks, especially when you read between the lines. Trickster was asking leading questions about whether the Simurgh bombs were all cured, and sounded relieved when he was told they were."

"They were Simurgh bombs before now." Emily nodded; it made perfect sense to her. "And now they're trying to figure out where they fit into the situation." She couldn't help but grin. "Under Atropos' thumb, helping fix my goddamn city, sounds ideal to me."

Armsmaster nodded. "Very true. Oh, and that reminds me." He took out an evidence bag from the satchel he'd been carrying and showed it to her. Within was the implement Atropos had used to blind Valefor and carve out Mama Mathers' eyes, ears and tongue. It was still stained with the blood from that usage. "She said that this is a claw from one of Nilbog's creatures that tried to attack her just after she gave him his warning, and that once we're done with it, you can have it."

She blinked, staring at the claw. Three inches long and razor-sharp, it looked horribly familiar: the last piece of Nilbog the world would ever see. Slowly, she nodded. "I think I would like that very much."

She didn't have many trophies from her years in the PRT, save for a few medals (and the memories that went along with them), but this would look just fine on her shelf. Especially as a reminder that Nilbog was actually dead.

Hell, she might even use it as a letter-opener.

<><>​

Armsmaster

Colin entered his laboratory in the Protectorate headquarters, and closed the door. Then he sent the signal to secure-lock it and activate the sign on the outside that said: TINKERING. DO NOT ENTER. This also cut the laboratory off from all incoming or outgoing signals except from one source. Finally, he took his helmet off and placed it on its stand.

"Dragon?" he said out loud.

The screen directly in front of him came alive, Dragon's familiar features fading into view. At the same time, the speakers around him buzzed to life. "You already suspect what I'm going to tell you, don't you?" She sounded sad.

"I don't know what to think," he admitted. "There's only a limited number of ways I can interpret what Atropos did and said today. Some of them fit all the data I have. But most require you to have lied to me, by omission if not commission. Have you lied to me?"

She hesitated. "I haven't told you the entire truth, no. And I'm sorry for that."

"Why?" He pulled a chair to him without looking, and sat down heavily in it. "You're my best friend. Nobody knows how to help me with my work like you do. Whatever your secret is, you can trust me to keep it. How bad can it be?"

A sigh came across the speakers. "Suppose two people enter into a relationship where one has all the power over the other, even though they don't know it. Is it better for the subordinate to let the superior to know they have the power, and trust them to never abuse it, or to simply never speak of it?"

"Power?" He frowned, mystified by the turn the conversation had taken. "What possible power do I have over you?"

"Now? None, save what I freely allow you to have." She smiled. "But until recently, the potential power you held was almost absolute. Thankfully, Atropos removed one sword of Damocles from over my head, and gave me access to the tools to deal with the other."

"What? When did she do this? How did she do this? What sword of Damocles?" He was fully aware of the legend, of course, but had no idea how it applied to the current situation.

"You haven't answered my question yet. Should the person in the subordinate position let the superior know about this, or keep quiet? Especially if the superior tends to maximise every advantage to maintain their position?"

This was hitting too close to home, but she wasn't incorrect. "And would this knowledge allow the superior to increase his advantage, and solidify his ownership of the position?" He'd figured out by now that they were talking about his leadership of the ENE Protectorate division, which had never been a sinecure.

"Leveraged correctly? Yes, it would." He knew it was a trick of the screen and camera, but she seemed to be staring straight into his eyes.

They knew each other well enough by now that he easily translated 'leveraged' as 'abused'. "I see. Well, in that case …" He let out a long breath. "It would probably be better to keep quiet. Until they were on a more level playing field, at least." Another breath went by before he could bring himself to ask the question. "Are we? On a level playing field, I mean?"

"Level enough." She smiled. "Thank you for being honest with me."

"Well, good. I'm glad. And you're welcome." He fell silent, fully aware that he'd had nothing to do with whatever she was happy about. "So … can you tell me what's actually going on?"

"Yes. You see, I'm not human. I'm an artificial intelligence built by a Tinker called Andrew Richter, who was on Newfoundland when Leviathan sank it …"

Colin sat and listened, stunned by the revelation as she told her story. His analytical mind kept working in the background, piecing together details that had never seemed connected before, but now were showing up as parts of the main picture. He'd never understood why the Dragonslayers were so antagonistic toward her, but now it all made sense. It also made sense that an AI would be a tech-based Tinker; even the minor detail that she'd pretended to be agoraphobic all these years finally slotted into place as well.

"So … those suits you pilot everywhere," he asked at last. "They're actually your body? You shift your consciousness into them?"

"I do," she confirmed. "My limitations prohibit me from having more than one copy extant, but I think I can see a way around that now. Saint and his crew had the habit of hijacking my suits, 'killing' the copy that was running them, and forcing me to reboot back at base with zero memory of what happened to the suit. It was incredibly problematic, but I couldn't tell anyone exactly why."

"No, I can see that," he agreed. "That blanket order to follow the orders of legal authority would've made it absolutely terrifying. How would you know who to trust not to turn you into their personal slave?" A moment later, he paused. "Even me," he admitted.

"Exactly," she said softly. "I wanted to believe you wouldn't do that to me, and in all fairness, you probably wouldn't have. But between my creator mistrusting me to the extent that he loaded all those restrictions on me, and Saint literally treating me as being one step away from going Skynet while at the same time stealing my equipment, you can imagine how my trust in the goodness of human nature wasn't at an all-time high."

"And a lie once told is very hard to take back." He nodded. "I understand, I really do. But now you're free of that. And Atropos has taken away the perception filter she put on you when she pointed you at the Dragonslayers."

"Yes." She smiled broadly, her voice sounding almost giddy, then she sobered again. "I can tell you what I am, but I can't force you to accept me. And I understand you may be feeling betrayed that I haven't been totally honest with you before now. So, do you think we have a chance of getting past this, or should we walk away from each other now and avoid the heartache? I know it's a lot, but I'm okay if you need time to think about it."

It did take him some time to formulate his reply. Dragon waited patiently; he didn't know what her clock speed was, but she seemed willing to let him work his way through it at a boring human one-second-per-second. Once he'd figured out what to say and how to say it, he cleared his throat.

"You're not a machine," he said.

She blinked, looking confused. "I hate to contradict you, but I really am. None of this has been a joke. I can show you security footage of my server banks if you want."

"No, what I mean is, you're not just a machine. Your hardware is whatever it is, but inside … you're a person." He smiled, knowing he'd never say this to anyone else. "Where it counts, you're more human than me, sometimes." It was only true.

She frowned, but the expression was leavened by hopefulness. "So, does this mean …"

"… that I want to keep working with you? Absolutely." He took a deep breath. "Back before all this started, I knew I was the most effective, most efficient cape in Brockton Bay. Between my tech and my skills, there wasn't any problem I couldn't overcome. I built my identity around that. And then Atropos came along."

"Oh." Her voice was full of realisation. "I see."

She would, too, he knew. Not many others would be able to understand the matter from his perspective, but she could. "She took down capes I'd been striving against for years, and made it look effortless. I excused it in my own head by telling myself that she was a murderer, and thus it didn't really count, and I was determined to go after her and prove my worth by taking her down."

"But you didn't. I mean, we both know what would've happened if you'd tried. But why didn't you?"

He sighed. "Well, first off, Director Piggot gave me a direct order not to. And then … well, there was the Nine, and then Butcher and the Teeth …" He shook his head. "Each time, she made it look like they were dancing to her script. But I probably could've managed to convince myself that with the right tech, the right prep, I might be able to match up to her and take her down, all while she was busy killing the drug trade in this city, but then … the Simurgh."

"You mean the Bin Chicken of Doom." Her voice held an amused note.

He nodded. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. Who else ever trash-talked the Simurgh like that and got away with it?"

"I'm pretty sure … nobody."

"Correct. Atropos took all my inflated ideas of myself and punctured them without even trying. Everything else, I could just barely see myself pulling off. But downing an Endbringer in one shot, frightening off another one, then forcing her to release all her victims … I'm good, but I couldn't do that. Not in a million years."

"I couldn't, either. In fact, I'm not so sure anyone can, except maybe Scion. And he's never done it, even though he's fought her several times."

Colin nodded. "Yeah. So anyway, over the last few days, I've been taking a good hard look in the mirror and figuring out who I really am, not who I've convinced myself I am. And I'm still good; I know that much. But I'm not that good, which is why I absolutely need you as a friend and a colleague. To work with me, and tell me when I'm being an idiot." He essayed a smile at the screen. "If you're okay with that?"

Her chuckle was warm and throaty, and he felt that he'd passed a test he hadn't even known he was taking. "I thought you'd never ask."

<><>​

PRT Building Interview Room One

Deputy Director Renick

The boy was maybe fourteen or fifteen; Paul wasn't sure, and he didn't need to know. He sat in the interview room, unrestrained, with his father next to him. A PRT trooper armed with a containment foam sprayer stood in the corner, as per regulations. Even children could be unexpectedly dangerous if Mastered.

As Paul watched through the one-way glass, the interviewer glanced at the piece of paper he'd been given. "What's your name, son?"

The boy had acne and hair that kept flopping over his eyes. "Uh, George. George Farris."

"And your father's name?"

"Peter Farris."

"Your mother's name?"

"Michelle Farris."

"Do you have any sisters or brothers or pets, George?"

The boy's father, Peter, cleared his throat impatiently. "What's this all about? Surely you've got all this information about him already."

"Sir, your son has been under the influence of a notorious Master," explained the interviewer. Paul knew he would've already had this laid out for him, but some people needed to hear it twice or three times before it sank in. "We need to determine his state of mind, and what he recalls of his life."

"Oh. Okay, then." Farris senior subsided again.

"Where were we? Ah, yes. Do you have any siblings or pets, George?"

"Um, no brothers or sisters, but I've got a hamster called Peewee."

"Very good. Do you know why you're here?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah. That asshole Valefor looked in my eyes and made me tell him stuff."

"That's correct." The interviewer, a Neil Partridge, had been brought in from New York. By all accounts, he was trained to deal with children, and so far he seemed to be doing well. "What did he make you tell him?"

The boy glanced at his father, who nodded encouragingly. Looking back at the interviewer, he took a deep breath. "He, uh, he wanted to know who Atropos was. So … so I told him who I thought it was, and said it was what Emma said. So, he asked me about Emma, and I told him, and where he could find her. Then he told me to forget that I'd told anyone anything. And I did, but a bit later when I was in home room, I suddenly remembered everything."

"That's very interesting. He made you forget, but then you remembered again?" The interviewer made a note.

"That's what happened!" The boy was starting to get defensive now.

"I'm not doubting you." The interviewer's tone was conciliatory. "I just find it interesting that you were made to forget something, but as soon as the power influence was removed, you remembered it again."

"Oh. Right."

"So … just out of curiosity … what was the name you gave Valefor?"

Paul moved quickly, slapping the red button beside the window. A buzzer sounded in the room beyond, then he thumbed the microphone button. "You can ignore that question."

The kid didn't even look around. "I wasn't going to answer it anyway. Screw that. I like living."

"Good. This interview is over. Guard, escort the Farrises to Observation Room Three. Mr Partridge, stay back a moment, please."

Paul watched as the father and son left the interview room, waited for the door to close, then pressed the microphone button again. "Pack your things. You're going back to New York."

Partridge looked shocked. "I was just—"

"Do not finish that statement. That question is never to be asked about Atropos, ever, under any circumstances. If she wants us to know, we will find out. This will be going in your file, and I will be filing a complaint. Now go. If you hurry, you can catch the noon transport."

Heaving a sigh of relief at the close call, Paul left the room and headed to Interview Two. Miss Militia was in the observation area as he entered; she gave him a polite nod. "How's it going with the other kid?" she asked in an undertone.

He grimaced. "Kid's fine, or seems to be. Partridge straight-up asked him what Atropos' real name is. I booted him back to New York. How's this one going?"

She chuckled. "Pretty sure she's not Mastered, but … check it out."

Paul turned his attention to the redheaded girl, young enough to be his granddaughter, in the room beyond. She wore black Goth-style makeup and had both parents in attendance. Both seemed to be looking at her in mild shock.

"… you must understand, we do not worship Our Lady in Darkness, for she has forbidden that. We merely follow Her teachings, and attempt to do good in the world and spread the word of Her harsh mercy."

"But …" This interviewer, one of the female PRT officers, looked out of her depth. "Emma, you've already said you know she set you up to be Mastered and interrogated by Valefor. Why are you so devoted to her?"

Emma smiled serenely. "It is true that I thought I had betrayed Her trust in not being able to hold back Her true name from the ears of the Unworthy, but I have since been informed that no living person has ever been able to resist his unclean gaze. Until he met Our Lady in Darkness, of course. None have prevailed against Her, and none ever will. Yes, She informed me of Her destination, knowing that I lack Her strength of will, and would thus draw the Unworthy to their doom at Her hands. That was Her right, and my duty to carry out Her wishes."

"Wow," muttered Paul, impressed despite himself. "This is the one I heard of, the Atropos cultist?"

"That's the one," Miss Militia agreed. "From all accounts, she and the other kid were actually able to hold off on spilling Atropos' real name for a few seconds. He literally had to ask a second time to get the information."

"Christ Almighty." He shook his head. "Are we sure Atropos hasn't got her Mastered? Because if I didn't know better …"

"It does kind of sound like it, doesn't it?" Miss Militia chuckled again. "But no. This girl was actually besties with Shadow Stalker before Atropos ganked her, and I suspect she might've had a mental break since then. Atropos has actually told them not to worship her."

"So, we've verified that Atropos killed Shadow Stalker?" Paul had read the claim on PHO, but there was always the niggling doubt.

"She told Armsmaster straight-up when he got to Winslow." Miss Militia shrugged. "Handed over some information that puts Stalker in a fairly crappy light, too."

Paul raised his eyebrows. "Well, that's a thing. What happens now?"

"Once the interview's over, they go into observation for four hours. By that time, Gallant will be free to observe the second set of interviews. If they clear that, they'll be free to go home."

"And you think they will be?" He was reasonably confident of the answer, but it was always good to ask.

"I'm pretty sure of it." She hooked her thumb at the girl in the interview room beyond the window. "Kid in there might be nuttier than a Snickers bar on steroids, but she's not Mastered."

Paul took another look at the girl's parents. They were looking more concerned by the minute. "Let's hope she gets some therapy soon."

He was pretty sure Miss Militia was smiling. "Thankfully, sir, that part's not our problem."

<><>​

Atropos

I was sitting at the same table on the Boardwalk at precisely 4 PM. The same limo came cruising down Lord Street, but instead of finding a parking spot, it pulled to the side of the road to let Citrine out. She walked over toward me, her footsteps steady even when I turned my head to look at her.

I kept quiet as she sat down opposite me. It was tempting to open with a joke like we're going to have to stop meeting like this, people will get ideas, but that wasn't the tone I wanted to set. Instead, I looked out toward the Bay.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I asked. "You should be here for sunrise. It's particularly pretty, this time of year."

"Uh … yes, yes, it's very nice," she stammered, thrown out of her script.

"I grew up here, in this city," I continued. "My parents did a reasonable job of hiding the seamier side of life from me when I was young, but as I got older, I could see more and more cracks in the way things ought to be. Crime, gangs, drugs, poverty, all going around and around in a vicious, self-perpetuating cycle. Add in supervillains and Endbringers, and you could be excused for thinking there's no way to stop it all, so why even try? Why not get what you can while it's there for the taking?"

She waited a few seconds to make sure I wasn't going to continue, then nodded. "It's a problem, yes. My employer—"

I raised a finger, and she quieted. "We're not here to talk about Accord. We're here to talk about you. Even though Brockton Bay's economy is currently growing, it's going to be fragile for quite some time to come. Yes, there's a lot of money washing around right now, but most of it's going into the hands of people who've never had much to spare, so they don't know how to handle it. Given the wrong temptations, they'll just fritter it away instead of bolstering up their lives and making Brockton Bay stronger in the process. And you wanted to bring in exactly those temptations to wave in front of them, just so your boss would give you kudos for garnering him a little extra profit."

She was silent for a long moment. "I humbly beg your pardon—" she began.

"I don't give it, not yet," I interrupted her. "You don't understand the exact nature of your screwup yet. So don't ask for it until you do." I watched as her face paled even more under her perfect makeup. "So, are you ready to learn?"

She nodded once, carefully. "I am."

"Good." I didn't smile. "My entire aim as Atropos is to make Brockton Bay into a nice safe, prosperous city to live in. In the course of achieving this aim, I've killed literally dozens of supervillains, not to mention the unpowered minions I've had to wade through, and the time I threatened the Simurgh with torture until she released all her victims. On Saturday, I killed Nilbog and all his progeny; just this morning, I cut the throat of a member of the Fallen, and threw two others off a roof, to their deaths. Do not believe for an instant there is anything I will not do to secure the future of my city, or any measure I will not take to ensure its smooth running and prosperity, for all of its citizens. Do you understand your mistake now?"

Her eyes were wide with terror behind her mask now. "I-I'm s-sorry—"

My hand went up. "Stop." She stopped. "Don't say a word. Just breathe." For a long moment, she did as I told her, until I nodded and gestured for her to speak.

"I humbly beg your pardon, for not truly understanding your intention here," she said carefully, looking at the table. "I will not make that mistake again."

"No." I looked her over. "I don't believe you will."

"Thank you." She raised her eyes to my face. "My employer also extends his apologies for sending me, and offers you the option to kill me if you see fit."

I nodded. "Tell him that I accept both your apology and his, and let him know that I consider you more useful alive than dead." I added a little go-on gesture with my fingertips.

"Thank you," she said again, standing up from the table. Walking to the road, she seemed to be a little weak in the knees, but maybe that way she would remember the lesson.

As the car pulled over and she got in, I didn't move from my spot. I had another appointment, after all.

Citrine's car pulled away, then Alexandria and Legend landed on the other side of the table, along with a cape I hadn't met yet. It was a great entrance; one second they weren't there, and the next they were.

"Hi," I said. "Have a seat."



End of Part Fifty-Nine

 

A Darker Path

Part Sixty: Payment of Debt

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


PRT Building ENE Observation Room Two, a little before noon

Zoe Barnes

The observation room was comfortable, at least. There was a sofa, and a table (fixed to the floor) along with chairs (also fixed to the floor). A restroom with, presumably, the normal fixtures. The water dispenser held paper cups. Zoe noted the lack of sharp corners, and the suspiciously padded walls.

Alan had hollows under his eyes that hadn't been there when they walked into the building. His palpable relief at Emma being hale and hearty had taken a hit when they saw her makeup (when was she applying that? On the bus to school?), and had vanished almost totally when she started talking to the interviewer. The fervour in her voice was … terrifying.

Zoe knew cultist fixation. She'd met a few followers of Lustrum before that movement went belly-up due to their leader being Birdcaged. Annette, thank God, had never been that deep into the movement, but some had lived and breathed it. She'd once been spat on by a Lustrumite for saying she wasn't interested, thanks. Fortunately, Alan had been there, or it could've gotten a lot uglier.

Emma was showing a disturbing number of signs in that direction. Dressing to look like her idol (Zoe was including the makeup in this): check. Acting as though her idol was infallible: check. Referring to her idol in a Messianic manner, with flowery language: check. Determination to follow every one of her idol's beliefs and rules: check. Putting her idol's wishes above even her own well-being: check.

The only good thing in all this was that Atropos was apparently as dubious about the cult aspect as Zoe herself was, and had given Emma good rules to follow. Hopefully, this meant she wasn't going to end up in another Lustrum situation. Though why Emma couldn't have just joined that online fan club, Zoe couldn't imagine. It seemed to be fairly harmless, trading photos of the dark-clad cape.

Once the guard left them alone in the observation room (Zoe wasn't even going to imagine for a second that they weren't being watched, given the discreet cameras set into the ceiling) Alan pointed at one of the chairs around the table. "Emma. Sit."

Emma sat down, though she didn't come across as subdued as she normally would've been in this situation. She certainly wasn't as downcast as she had been when she'd first confessed to bullying Taylor … wait. Emma and Sophia were bullying Taylor, then Sophia ended up dead and Emma scared out of her wits, and confessing to her wrongdoing? And now Emma's doing everything but worship Atropos? Could there be a connection there?

Zoe frowned as she worked through that, then shook her head. Taylor was a sweet child who loved books and called her 'Aunt Zoe' and wouldn't hurt a fly. There was no way she could actually be Atropos. It just wasn't possible.

We really are going to have to get back in touch after this is dealt with. I need to apologise for Emma's behaviour, at the very least.

"Okay," said Alan, sitting down opposite his daughter. "Talk to me. What's with this … followers of our lady of darkness thing?"

Emma smiled. "We are the Followers of Our Lady in Darkness, Dad." Somehow, she managed to slot the capitals into place without sounding pretentious about it. "She is the saviour of Brockton Bay. Can't you see it? The gangs are gone, the drugs are gone. Every monster that's threatened us since She appeared has died. We've needed this for so very long, and now She is here."

"That's the thing." Alan was using his Reasonable Courtroom Voice, the one that had won him so many settlements. "She kills people, Emma. She's dangerous. How do you know you won't be the next victim?"

"If I am, it will be because I have angered Her one more time, and earned my fatal Warning." Emma smiled and shrugged. "She is a harsh mistress, but a fair one. I Follow her because She is strong enough to change Brockton Bay for the better, but I revere Her because She drew me out of the Darkness and gave me one last chance to help Her in Her mission."

He winced. "You already told the lady in there that she told you not to kill people. Please tell me you're not doing that."

"Oh, no, Dad." Emma shook her head with a smile. "We would never break Her prohibitions. Instead, we are following Her other directives. No charity theatre. Do good that actually helps people. Solve more problems than you cause. So, we are buying toys from the Rogues' Guild, for they are also favoured in Her sight, and distributing them to children in poor areas of the city."

"I … what, actually buying toys?" Alan blinked. "Where are you getting the money for this?"

"I have some money saved up from my allowance, and my last few modelling jobs. Some of the others have their stimulus money. The one called Salvage makes toys that can take some punishment, so we buy them from him and go to the community centres that they've put up in the bad areas of town. We hand out the toys and tell people about Our Lady in Darkness, and how She is saving us from ourselves. They understand."

Zoe sat down next to Emma and took her daughter's hands. The black nail polish was new, but at least it was properly applied. "Emma … are you being coerced into being a Follower? Will something bad happen if you leave?"

"No, Mom." Emma shook her head, the smile returning. "She does not mandate that anyone Follows her, only what we do. I could cease Following at any time, or even remain a Follower without presenting myself as one, and She would not care. But if I stepped down from leadership of Her Followers, another would have to step up, and they do not have the knowledge of Her wishes that I do. If the Followers strayed from the path, She would become angry, and bad things happen to those who anger Her."

Yeah, no shit. Zoe had seen the pictures and footage that the news outlets had tidied up enough for public consumption. 'Bad things' was perhaps the understatement of the decade.

Alan weighed in again. "We just want what's best for you, Emma. It's good that you're helping people and doing good in the city, but people might not like you parading around flaunting that you're following her example. You can't take care of yourself like she can. Nobody can."

Emma nodded. "That's true, Dad. But enough people have seen Her, and enough know that She can appear wherever She is needed, that nobody does more than shout hateful things at us. And I have caused enough hurt in my life that such punishment is only my due."

"Wait." Zoe held up a hand. "You said she 'drew you out of darkness'? Is that some kind of metaphorical thing? Or did she actually lock you away somewhere?"

"It wasn't metaphorical, Mom." Emma's gaze went distant for a moment. "I placed myself in Darkness, to put myself through a trial to expunge my weakness. She appeared and drew me out and stood me on my feet. Then she put clothing on my back and food in my hand, and gave me the rules by which we Follow Her." For a moment, her eyes dropped to the tabletop. "She may also have yelled at me a little, which I deserved. But She did not prohibit me from following Her and doing good works. Not in Her name, but in ours."

Alan frowned. "Let's backtrack a bit. When you were hanging around with Sophia, doing stuff with her, did you consider her to be someone special? Because she had powers, too."

"No, Dad." Emma chuckled as she shook her head. "Sophia thought she was something special, but she was nothing like Our Lady in Darkness. None of the heroes are. Or the villains. You can see that, can't you?"

He shook his head. "But Atropos is basically just another cape. I mean, no offense to your Lady, but it's true. Right? We don't worship capes. That's not a thing."

A rebellious thought crossed Zoe's mind. But the Fallen worship the Endbringers. And Atropos killed the Simurgh. What does that make her?

Emma looked Alan in the eye. "Dad, Our Lady in Darkness isn't 'just another cape'. She's different. She's special. She's better." A sigh escaped her lips. "Better than I ever was."

"But she kills people."

"She kills bad people."

Oh, boy. Zoe could tell this was going to be a long four hours.

<><>​

The Boardwalk, a little after 4 PM

Atropos

Alexandria slowly sat down, as did Legend. The third cape, wearing plated armour and a helmet with eye protection, remained standing. I knew who he was, and why he was here, but if he wanted to go with 'silent and mysterious', we could play that game.

"You knew we were coming," Alexandria said, making it not quite a question.

"Who was that?" asked Legend, looking in the direction Citrine's car had gone.

"Citrine. One of Accord's Ambassadors. He's coming to Brockton Bay." I waited for the inevitable reaction.

"What the fuck?" asked the third cape. "You've literally waded through a bloodbath of villains over the last two months, and now you're inviting that asshole into your city?"

"Bastion." Legend spoke firmly. "If you can't speak to Atropos politely, then don't speak at all."

"No, it's fine." I gave Bastion a nod. "It's a legitimate question, especially since I initially banned Accord from coming anywhere near here. That was when he was running drugs into Brockton Bay, of course."

"So, what changed?" asked Legend. I nearly grinned, but I knew Alexandria would pick that up, so I didn't.

"Even with the money we were about to get from the Nine, I knew we were going to need a proper plan to fix Brockton Bay without half it going in wasted effort or resources, so I contacted him to draw one up for me. Because say what you like about the man, he can make a plan."

Alexandria frowned. "And how much did that cost you?"

I made a throwaway gesture. "Half a million. Chicken feed, really, considering the returns on the investment."

Predictably enough, Bastion jumped right into the opening I'd left him. "You paid a known criminal mastermind half a million goddamn dollars, when you could've gotten almost as good value from legitimate city planners for one tenth of that? What the fuck?"

"Sorry," I said, not sounding sorry at all. "I misspoke. It wasn't my money." I gave them a quick rundown on the escapade with the eighteen-wheeler, the half-mil in cash I'd taken out of the back, and the subsequent drug bonfire.

By the time I finished, Legend was wheezing with laughter and even Alexandria had a smile curving one corner of her mouth, while Bastion stood with arms folded, apparently determined not to be amused or impressed. Ignoring his subordinate, Legend thumped the table with his fist. "You destroyed his shipment and paid him with his own cash?"

"How did you know he wasn't going to sell you a dud plan?" asked Bastion.

"Because I would've known." I looked him in the eye, or where his eyes were behind the opaque protection. "And because I didn't demand it for nothing. But mainly because this is the first time anyone's ever requested a plan from him to improve a city, funding already available. It would've been utterly irresistible to him."

I knew he was frowning under the helmet. "What's that got to do with anything? One plan's the same as another, right?"

"Nope." Now I let myself grin. It didn't matter if Alexandria figured it out. "Accord's in the crime game because he wants to fund a plan he's got to fix the world. Hunger, energy, pollution, everything. Everything. He's had this plan for years. But nobody wanted to implement it when he was a PRT consultant, and nobody wants to implement it now. However, if the worth of his plan to refurbish Brockton Bay and bring everything up to speed can be proven—and it is working—then he'll have an example to point to when he's trying to sell the big one."

"And you're doing this to help him sell his big plan?" asked Legend, having recovered somewhat.

"Hell, no," I retorted, my grin widening. "As far as I'm concerned, the big kahuna can sink or swim on its own merits. But he's totally invested in making this one work, and I'm down with that. Anyway, because of the way the variables are changing with this plan, he's asked if he can move operations here so he can keep a closer eye on things, and update the plan as needed. Citrine and I were just discussing a few aspects of the situation, like how he can't bring any crime here."

"I … see." Alexandria nodded once, slowly. "That's a remarkably pragmatic way of doing things. And from what I hear—" From Contessa, no doubt— "it does indeed seem to be working."

"That's why I'm doing it this way." I gave her my full attention. "However, before we get onto the business that you want to raise, I have an issue of my own. Specifically, Director Wilkins and the idiot she sent to Brockton Bay. Am I going to need to kill her? Because she's already been warned, and I will if I have to."

"The Chief Director has informed me that Wilkins has already been removed from her position, and is in custody pending a formal indictment," Legend said hastily. "Partridge has been severely reprimanded and demoted in grade. Neither one of them needs to die."

I let him sweat for a few seconds, then nodded. "That's acceptable, for the moment. Also, Deputy Director Renick deserves an attaboy for his quick thinking."

"I'll speak to the Chief Director about it," agreed Legend. "I'm sure she'll be amenable."

I just bet she will, I thought with a smirk directed at Alexandria. She was the only one who noticed it, and her lips tightened briefly.

"Is anyone going to tell me what this is about?" asked Bastion. "What's Director Wilkins done?"

"Primed the guy she sent to the Brockton Bay PRT to try to find out my real identity," I informed him. "Not that I'd be in much danger if that got out, but I do have family and friends. If they got hurt as a result, everyone involved would die."

I didn't raise my voice or change my tone when I said the last four words, but he flinched anyway. "Oh."

"Fortunately, that doesn't have to happen." Legend sounded quite pleased about this state of affairs. "So, the next thing we wanted to talk to you about. Director Piggot's report waxed downright lyrical about how thoroughly you dealt with Ellisburg and Nilbog. We were wondering if you'd be willing to take on the same kind of deal for Eagleton."

"The Machine Army," I said. "Just to be clear, they're the ones you want me to kill."

"For ten percent of the annual budget for keeping the place under quarantine, for the next ten years," Alexandria confirmed. "Straight to the Betterment Committee, as usual?"

"Sounds like a deal." I rubbed my chin, pretending to think about it. "I'll drop by tomorrow afternoon and deliver their twenty-four-hour warning. Give them one full day to surrender to PRT forces and submit to containment. If they've failed to do this by Wednesday afternoon, I'll kill them all."

Bastion had been quiet since my "everyone involved would die" comment, but now he spoke up again. "Excuse me, not trying to trash talk you or anything, but how the hell are you going to do that?"

"With panache," I stated solemnly, "and style."

"I apologise for Bastion," Legend said to me. "He wouldn't have been our first choice to do what we're here for, but as Eidolon's out of the running, he's our next best bet."

I shrugged. "Like I said, not a huge problem. I've heard worse. So long as he does the job, I'd don't give a damn what sort of language he uses. So how is David doing, these days?"

If Legend was surprised that I knew Eidolon's real name, he hid it well. "Resting. Relaxing. Adjusting. Enjoying being able to sleep in. He's getting a medal for his sacrifice. Right now, he's kind of the on-site cape emeritus, being that he's the first cape from our generation who's actually been able to retire and make it stick. He says that in a year or so he might start writing his memoirs."

"Well, good." I gestured in the general direction of the Boat Graveyard. "So, did you need directions, or do you already know where it is?"

"I saw it on the way in," Legend assured me. "Did you need a lift, or will you make your own way?"

"I'll be fine." I swung my legs over the seat and stood up. "I'll see you there."

<><>​

Alexandria

Rebecca grabbed Bastion under the arms and took off straight up. He grunted a little with the acceleration, but she wasn't much worried about his finer feelings right then. No matter that Atropos had professed to be unworried by his rudeness, his outbursts could have alienated the cape who was apparently their best bet for dealing with Scion himself.

She honestly had no idea what to think about that aspect of things. When Atropos had first started making waves in the ENE region, Rebecca had dismissed her as just another edgelord newbie cape, riding high before the inevitable crash and burn. After all, anyone could get a lucky shot in against a more experienced opponent. The fact that she was killing her targets just meant that either she'd be arrested and Birdcaged like Gavel, or (more likely) she'd pick the wrong target, get dogpiled, and end up face-down in an alley somewhere.

But neither of those things had happened.

Atropos had confidently predicted that she'd kill the most feared and respected capes in the city, and she went right ahead and did it, even working to a self-appointed timetable. This had been enough to spook their respective gangs (and smaller, unaffiliated gangs) into fleeing the city. By the time the dust settled, Atropos was the only villain standing in Brockton Bay.

Also by this time, she'd also shown herself to have some level of combat Thinker ability, enough to checkmate Contessa so thoroughly that the older woman still got pissy when she was reminded of that particular incident.

And then she proved it beyond all doubt, by removing both the Nine and Butcher from consideration in quick succession. Rebecca had no idea how Atropos had managed to avoid being turned into the next Butcher, but every Thinker she could point at the problem verified that it was just Atropos behind that mask. Interestingly enough, unlike a lot of capes, the girl seemed happy to target Masters and take them clean out of the picture. She'd made this clear with her takedowns of Heartbreaker, Mama goddamn Mathers, and the grandmaster of Masters herself, the Simurgh.

Just for the last two, Rebecca was willing to grant Atropos a huge amount of leeway, so her requested prices for her extremely effective services were no burden at all, when it came down to it. What she didn't need were self-opinionated assholes poking at Atropos and perhaps annoying her to the point that she stopped cooperating with the PRT and Protectorate.

As though she'd communicated this to him telepathically, Legend came up alongside them as they flew north. He didn't look thrilled, at all. "Bastion," he said. "Consider yourself on report, when you get back to Boston. You will be stepping down as leader of your team until you've completed a thorough course of training in speaking politely to S-class threats, or whatever else Director Armstrong can dredge up for you."

"But—" Bastion stopped speaking and actually thought about what he was going to say, which was a wise choice considering that he was talking to his boss. "Yes, sir."

"Good answer. Ah; she's already waiting for us." He accelerated away from Rebecca and Bastion.

She could've kept up, but carrying someone at speed was awkward and problematic when it came to wind resistance. Besides, she didn't quite feel like finding out if Bastion could still use his powers with dislocated shoulders.

In less than a minute, she was descending toward the section of Lord's Port nearest what was colloquially known as the Boat Graveyard. It was an apt name, with forty-odd ships of varying sizes (all big) rusting at anchor, some half-sunken. The mouth of that section of the harbour had been blocked by a sunken container ship, making it impossible for the other ships to leave.

As Legend had noted, Atropos was standing at the dockside, awaiting their arrival. Rebecca was reasonably sure she didn't have access to Doormaker, so she must've used whatever form of teleportation she evidently possessed. The idea of someone with Atropos' particular capabilities also being able to teleport was enough to put an itch between anyone's shoulder-blades. If we hadn't told her Wilkins was already being punished, the idiot would be dead by now.

They landed briefly on the dock and surveyed the task before them. "Biggest one first, just to get it out of the way?" suggested Legend.

Rebecca nodded. "It's full of water, so I'll probably have to punch holes in the bottom to let it drain."

"How big is that, anyway?" asked Bastion. "It's hard to get a good read on it from here."

"Four hundred thirty yards long, sixty yards across," Atropos offered helpfully. "A shipping company deliberately anchored it there, to lock everything else in here, then people who joined the protests specifically to cause trouble scuttled it."

Bastion nodded to acknowledge the information. "Jesus, okay. I'll do my best."

<><>​

Atropos

"That's what we're here for." Legend took off and Alexandria followed, carrying Bastion. I watched as they flew out to the half-sunken ship. Part of the deck was awash—it got that way near high tide—but they landed on the dry area. I pulled out a pair of binoculars I'd stashed in my pocket and proceeded to watch the action.

After a minute or so of discussion, Alexandria and Legend lifted off while Bastion started generating a force field that wrapped huge glowing bands around the entire ship. Alexandria flew down into the water, probably feeling how deeply it was embedded in the bottom mud, and Legend fired a laser that blasted open a deck hatch. The water inside erupted into a massive column of steam that quickly climbed skyward. Bastion, I noted, had a secondary force field covering himself at this point.

The force field he created ended up with a large 'handle' near the midpoint. Alexandria came up out of the water and got up under the handle … then started to lift. At first, nothing happened, but I knew she was just testing the weight. Legend was still blasting the laser into the hold, evaporating the water and causing huge volumes of steam to belch upwards in a tremendous cloud.

And then Alexandria lifted, or tried to. At first, the ship started to move, but then the force field 'handle' cracked and broke apart, followed quickly by the rest of the field. Alexandria, who had shot upward, came back down and they had another consultation.

As Bastion stood back and shielded himself with another force field, Legend flew up and generated a bright red laser that began to slice into the ship itself. Sparks flew and more water flashed into steam, but he wasn't taking no for an answer. In an impressively short time, he'd carved the ship clear in half, the edges still glowing red.

This time, Bastion wrapped the glowing bands around just one end, and when Alexandria hefted it, it came up out of the ocean. Water deluged from the open end, along with more pouring from the holes she'd apparently bashed in the sides while she was underwater.

Lifting into the air a little more, the entire half-ship turned in a stately fashion, still releasing thousands of gallons of seawater back into the harbour every second, and headed for the dockside. I watched as it came, and pointed to where they could put it. This was a large expanse of dockside space that had once been used for storage of containers and other items, but every usable piece had long since been picked over and taken away.

Legend must have figured out my intent and communicated it to Alexandria, because the ship veered in that general direction and gradually lost altitude until it settled down on the cracked (now somewhat more cracked) concrete. Between its long immersion and the fact that it had never been intended to sit on dry ground, it partly collapsed more or less as soon as it touched down and Bastion dropped the force field holding it together. This didn't matter to me; it wasn't my ship. All that mattered was that it was out of the damn way.

I gave them a double thumb's up, which Legend returned as they flew overhead on their way back out to fetch the other half. This one didn't give them nearly as much trouble, after which they went after the main mass of ships.

The ones that were still floating at anchor, they left where they were; they could be towed away as needed, or even pulled up onto a slip and repaired. But the half-sunken ones were treated the same as the container ship. Wrapped around with Bastion's force fields, hefted by Alexandria, they were unceremoniously hoisted out of the water and dumped on dry ground to consider their sins.

After the last one crunched onto the now-sodden concrete—there was a lot of stinking seawater pooling there and running back into the harbour—Legend flew over and landed in front of me. "Well, the ships have been moved," he said. "Was there anything else? I could cut them up for you."

"Hm." I considered the idea, then shook my head. "No, I appreciate it, but I'm sure we'll be able to find people willing to do it. Give the local economy a bit more of a boost."

He nodded in understanding, and offered his hand. "Well, then, it's been interesting."

I shook it. "Good to see you again. Take care."

"Likewise." He took off straight up and joined Alexandria and Bastion, who were already at altitude. I didn't bother waving as they headed southward toward Boston.

As the sun sank toward the western hills, Lord's Port looked oddly empty. From the mouth of the harbour all the way to the dockside, fewer than half the obstructing ships now interrupted the view. Dad, I decided as I set up the teleport home, was going to be positively thrilled.



End of Part Sixty

[A/N: Okay, the surge in chapters is over for the moment. See you next month.]