A Darker Path [Worm Fanfic]

A Darker Path

Part Seventy-One: A Whole New World

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

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♦ Topic: I Went Over There
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 Mar 4th 2011:

Hello to all you wonderful people of Brockton Bay!

I hope you've all had as productive a day as I have.

Those of you who follow my doings on here would be aware that I explained to the last four quarantine zones how they had twenty-four hours to shape up or I'd be there to ship them out.

Pastor did the smart thing. He let his people go and surrendered to PRT custody a full two hours before I was due to go all Biblical on his ass.

I like it when people do the smart thing. Saves on ammo.

The villains in Gallup and Gary were a little more reluctant, but when I showed up and explained matters to them, they saw reason. I understand that a few took the option of 'go and never sin again', but the vast majority chose to take their chances with the legal system. I have it on good authority that this will indeed factor toward their sentencing.

Flint, on the other hand ... made me go over there.

I mean, you all saw me tell them to cut that shit out, but they chose not to. So, I had to go in there and cut it out for them. It was a little bit of a slog, I will admit that, but by the stroke of midnight, there was only one cape left in the city (me). Best workout I've had in a long time.

I'd just like to acknowledge the fact that the PRT really stepped up, providing room and board for all those displaced villains. I honestly couldn't have done it without you guys. Best minions a ruthless serial killer could hope for. (Kidding. Honestly.)

(I've had better.)

(Mwahahaha.)

Oh, and also, there were some costumed kids running around at Gary, playing at being villains. Not sure what they were after. Maybe autographs or something. I got selfies with them, anyway.

So, what's next on the agenda?

Well, the next time someone threatens the peace and harmony of Brockton Bay, you'll find out. Or rather, they will.

Be informed: a new city arises.

Mwahaha.

Oh, and before I forget: congratulations to our very own Director Piggot for her promotion to the Directorship of PRT New York. I wish her all the good fortune there.

Toodles!

(Showing page 1 of 126)

►Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Replied On Mar 4th 2011:
Well, crap.
Okay, I get it.
Atropos is bullshit squared on a bullshit sandwich.
But HOW in the goddamn HELL did she pull that one off?
Her Flint appearance is fine, but what's got me scratching my head is how she pulled off the Gary/Gallup show.
[This] is Gary, Indiana, as of twenty minutes to eleven, local time (2340 EST).
[This] is Gallup, New Mexico, as of twenty minutes to ten, local time (2340 EST).
Yes, those two bits of footage were independently recorded by the PRT at the *same time*, down to a tenth of a second, twelve hundred miles apart. If you focus in on Atropos, you can see exactly the same mannerisms and gestures at the same time. Even the breathing patterns are identical.
(I'm not going to say the voiceprints are identical too, but ... well, they *are* as close as can be matched with two different recording systems).
They only diverge after she steps into the portal in Gallup.
So, we knew she could teleport.
Now, apparently, she can be in two places at once.
Ladies and gentlemen: Atropos.
She does what she does.

►SocioVader
Replied On Mar 4th 2011:
Haha wow, the beatdown she lays on August Prince.
Kid should've quit while he was ahead.

►UnlikelyRomance
Replied On Mar 4th 2011:
Pastor lasted approximately 22 hours longer than I would've.
Makes you wonder what he said to his flock before he bolted.

►BlackSquiggles
Replied On Mar 4th 2011:
BWHAHAAHAHA!!!
That was glorious!

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On Mar 4th 2011:
The reports are correct.
Pastor severed his ties with his Flock and voluntarily gave himself up to PRT custody just before 10 PM EST, or 7 PM local time. He verified that Atropos' ultimatum was the driving force behind his surrender.
Atropos showed up at each of the Gary, Indiana and Gallup, New Mexico quarantine sites at the same time and gave the same speech, causing the vast majority of the villains to surrender themselves en masse. After she left the Gallup site, she was attacked at the Gary site by three notorious child villains, whom she overcame with her usual flair.
I am also authorized to verify that Flint, Michigan has been cleared of all capes. The Chicago PRT and Protectorate are conducting a sweep of the quarantine site for any other undesirables.
All in all, a good night's work.

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me) (Verified Dethpicable)
Replied On Mar 4th 2011:
You're welcome, guys.
All yours.

►BrickFrog
Replied On Mar 4th 2011:
Okay, is nobody going to talk about how there's now two of them? Or she can duplicate herself or something?
What the hell is going on?
She was bad enough when there was just one of her.

►XxVoid_CowboyxX (Verified Atropos Fan Club Member)
Replied On Mar 4th 2011:
Dude, seriously, what the fuck? Atropos kicked the gangs out of Brockton Bay, ganked the Endbringers, and now she's cleared the last of the quarantine zones. What is your *problem*?

►UnconcernedFox
Replied On Mar 4th 2011:
*settles back in post-popcorn haze*
*that was AMAZING*
*can't wait to see what happens next*
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End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 124, 125, 126

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PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Atropos
From: Faultline
Subject: Hi. Can we meet?

I'd like to talk about the possibility of my Crew coming back into BB, getting jobs with the Betterment Committee, and maybe killing the powers of a couple of them.

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PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Faultline
From: Atropos
Subject: Re: Hi. Can we meet?

Sure. Stay right there. Be with you in five.

■

<><>​

City Limits, Brockton Bay

Faultline

Melanie Fitts sat in the driver's seat of the nondescript sedan, hoping that she wasn't making a fatal mistake. She was very good at what she did—her Crew wouldn't have survived for as long as it had without any losses if she wasn't—but there was the level she worked on, and then there was the level Atropos worked on. There was no doubt in her mind that Atropos would go through both her and her people without breaking stride if the need arose.

Despite their protests, she'd made the Crew stay back in Boston, keeping their heads down while they waited for her return. If for whatever reason she didn't come back from Brockton Bay alive, the Number Man had instructions to contact them in a week or so and share out her personal funds to them. While she didn't think it would turn out that way, nothing was ever lost from taking sensible precautions.

She checked the dashboard clock—four and a half minutes since the return message—then looked out the window at the city limits sign with its hand-painted addendum. 'Atropos' Hometown - if you're a villain, consider this your second warning'. Technically she was a villain, though that didn't need to remain the case. Hopefully, Atropos would be willing to listen—

"Hi."

"Jesus!" Melanie spun around to stare at the black-clad form relaxing in the passenger seat as though she'd been there all along. Her hand reached by reflex for her shoulder holster, and she suppressed the movement just as quickly. "Must you do that?"

"I kinda do, yeah." She was pretty sure she could hear a grin in Atropos' voice. "Before we get to talking, start the car. I know you're on the up-and-up, so I'm inviting you into the city."

"… oh." Melanie had not expected that. "Uh, thanks." She turned the key to kick the engine over, then put it in gear and moved the car onto the highway. Atropos didn't seem pressingly eager to start the conversation, so Melanie waited until they were moving over the freshly laid blacktop—seriously, that was one smooth highway—before she broached the subject. "So, we were thinking some of our powers could be useful for the Betterment Committee, and I've been hearing rumours that you're taking in other villains so long as they commit to no more crime."

"All of which is true," confirmed Atropos. "You also mentioned Ending the powers of one or two of your members. Labyrinth being the main one, am I correct?"

"Yes." Melanie's hands tightened on the wheel. "Her powers rearrange her surroundings. They also reflect her mental state, which can get pretty grim."

"Once I've dealt with the powers side of things, you should be able to help her attain some kind of equilibrium." Atropos sounded entirely sure of herself. "So, about the question you really wanted to ask."

Melanie froze for half a second. She'd anticipated working her way around to the topic, not having it just asked of her. Hell, Atropos might think I mean something entirely different. "Question—?"

"Cauldron …?" prompted Atropos.

Nope, she knows exactly what I wanted to ask. "Uh. Right." Reflexively, she glanced in the rearview mirror. The city limits sign, she was pleased to see, was well out of sight. "Is this why you told me to start driving?"

Atropos nodded. "So they'd know for sure that you're in my city, under my protection. Ask your question."

Melanie took a deep breath. After so much time spent chasing shadows, she had trouble believing that the Holy Grail had just fallen into her lap. "You said on PHO that Cauldron wasn't permitted into Brockton Bay, that they knew what they'd done. What have they done?"

A cell-phone rang, a tone unfamiliar to Melanie. Atropos pulled it out and put it on speaker without saying a word. A woman's voice came out of it: "Is this wise?"

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a shit." Atropos pulled an air horn out of her pocket and gave Melanie a second to cover her right ear with her hand before she treated the phone to a blast of it. Ending the call, she slid the phone and air horn back into her pocket. "Maybe next time she won't butt into someone else's conversation. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, Cauldron."

"Was that … that was them?" Melanie knew she was well out of her depth now. Cauldron had tried to warn Atropos off, and she'd done the audio equivalent of flipping them the bird. Or maybe punching them in the nose.

"That was Contessa. She tried to put a gun in my face once." Before Melanie could ask how that situation had resolved itself—she couldn't see Atropos taking having a gun in her face lightly—Atropos kept talking.

As the car rolled through Brockton Bay, she regaled Melanie with details about Cauldron's operations. Blanks and gaps in Melanie's knowledge, some she hadn't even known existed, were filled in almost casually, as though Atropos had zero fucks to give. Still, there were some details left out; specifically, the names of some of the people at the top, even as Atropos cheerfully explained the finer points of Projects Terminus and Nemesis and others.

"Okay, so who's running the show, apart from Contessa and this Doctor Mother?" Melanie asked outright. "Because I can't see just two people making it work, especially since you said Doctor Mother doesn't have powers."

"That part, I'm not going to tell you." Atropos didn't seem offended so much as she was unconcerned. "It won't help, and they know they're on notice anyway."

"So why are they doing all this?" Melanie had been trying to figure that out for the longest time.

"To save the world. It's ham-handed as fuck, and on its own it would've failed, but that's what they were going for. Anyway, I've told them they can stand down. I've got it under control."

She wasn't sure which statement surprised her more, but that was Atropos all over. "Okay, um … can you tell me anything more? Like … what the hell are those omega tattoos about?"

"They're an identifying mark." Atropos held up a finger ahead of Melanie's interjection. "Not just to show that someone's a Cauldron cape. Look at them under a microscope. They've got microdots buried in them. Names, dates, type of vial. Dunno how much that'll help your people, but it's something."

"No." Melanie blinked. "That's … that's huge. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Atropos tapped the brim of her hat with two fingers. "Toodles."

"Wait, I—" Between one instant and the next, Atropos was gone. "Fuck." Melanie slumped in her seat.

She wanted to pull over and message Atropos to ask more questions, but the sensible part of her brain, the part that she'd trained herself to listen to, told her that there would be no more information forthcoming. What she had was more than she'd dared hope for; a dispensation for her Crew to come to Brockton Bay and arrange to have Elle's powers (and anyone else's who wanted it done) removed for good. In addition, she had invaluable information about Cauldron (including the tantalising aspect of the tattoos) as well as the slightly anticlimactic news that they were standing down, by direction of Atropos.

Driving back to Boston tonight would be tempting fate, she decided. It's after midnight already, and driver fatigue hits hardest in the next hour or two. I should grab a motel room and crash until sunrise.

But she wanted to celebrate, damn it. She wanted to do something a little wild and crazy, let her hair down a little. Ironically, she couldn't just walk into Palanquin to get a buzz on, because she was still in the process of transferring the title and the liquor license to the new owners, and the place was shuttered until that was done. But she did know of a place that was open this late.

<><>​

Brockton Bay College Recreation Center

Laserdream

There weren't a lot of people in the Rec Center at one in the morning, but Crystal was one of them. Her attempts to study in her room kept getting interrupted by intrusive thoughts of Amy and Vicky possibly quitting the team; one to go rogue, and the other to go civvy roadworker. She wasn't sure which notion was more distracting, so she'd come down to the Rec Center to see if a little fuzziness around her thought processes helped or not.

She was drinking with Anne Barnes, with whom she shared a couple of classes, but otherwise barely knew. It was a protective herd mentality; neither of them wanted to get hit on by guys who were drunker than they were (or more sober, for that matter) so they were sitting together to present a united front against unwanted advances. Sister support, that sort of thing.

"Hey, set me up." It was a new face, a tall brunette Crystal had never met before. "Jameson's, top shelf, on the rocks. I am celebrating tonight."

"That's nice," Anne said, turning to look. "What's the occasion?" Crystal wasn't quite sure why the redhead was drinking, but she'd been looking at pictures on her phone, giggling, then taking a drink. If she wanted to talk about it, she would. If not, she wouldn't.

"Moving back into town." The newcomer accepted her drink and paid for it, then came over to the table after giving the rest of the room a comprehensive sweep. Pulling out a chair, she joined the protective huddle. "Helping out a friend. Learned some cool shit. I won't be able to sleep, or concentrate on anything, until I murder a few braincells with high-end booze."

"Trust me," Crystal said solemnly. "I know exactly how you feel. Two of my teammates are quitting the team—don't tell anyone, it's not official yet—and I have no idea how to handle it, except by distract-hic-distracting myself with liquor."

"Teammates?" The brunette stared at her. "Holy shit, I thought it was you, then I thought nahhh, but it really is you. Laserdream, right? You do forcefields and lasers?" She took a gulp of her drink like it owed her money.

"Crystal, out of costume." Crystal put her finger to her lips for an exaggerated shhh. "Don't want to confuse th' public. You a fan?" It had been ages since anyone had asked her for an autograph. She was pretty sure muscle memory would still let her do it.

"Not technically a fan, but not not a fan either." The woman paused, then shrugged. "Actually, what the fuck. I'm going legit anyway. Faultline, but you can call me Mel." She held out her hand to shake.

Crystal blinked. Anne appeared to be giggling helplessly, even though she wasn't that drunk. "What, the Faultline? What-hic-what're you doing back in the Bay? I thought all the villains left. Or died," she added, for reasons of accuracy. Accuracy was important. Mel's handshake was firm and muscular.

"They did. We did. I left." Faultline (if it really was her; Crystal suspected it was) finished off her glass. "Then I came back to ask Atropos a favour." She paused as Anne broke out into a fresh series of giggles. "What?"

"M-my s-sister," Anne said with a giggling hiccup. "S-she's the leader of, of th' Atropos cult." She started giggling again. "Atropos doesn' like her, I don' think, but she's said nobody can hurt her." She shook her head. "Emma's such a fuckin' mess right now. Here, look."

Avidly, Crystal stared at the photos on Anne's phone, of a pretty younger version of her in goth outfits, walking around with a bunch of similarly outfitted teens, apparently spreading the word of Atropos. Even in the photos, it was easy to see the gleam of fanaticism in her eyes. In one picture, she was holding a neatly printed sign that said:

The Laws of Our Lady in Darkness:
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.

"Hahaha wow," Mel marvelled. "She's really gone all-out, hasn't she?" She tilted her head to one side. "I mean, the rules aren't bad. They're pretty good, to be honest. They're not telling people to sacrifice their first-born or anything."

"Not even asking for donations," Anne revealed. "I mean, people can give, an' they do, but they always give a receipt, an' they use it to buy stuff for kids, or they pass it on to a proper charity." She hiccupped again.

"I've heard of worse things." Mel got up. "What're you guys drinking? My treat."

While she was at the bar getting fresh wine coolers and another glass of Jameson's, Crystal looked carefully at Anne. "You okay? Want us to get you back to your room?"

"Nah, nah." Anne gave her a happy, buzzed smile. "Night just got inneresting. Not often I get to drink with a superhero an' a supervillain. Plus, she completes the set."

"Set?" Crystal frowned. "What set?"

Anne went to pull on some of her own hair, but nearly poked herself in the eye instead. "Hair. Ow. Hair is what I mean. Redhead." She pointed at Crystal. "Blondie." Then she waved at Mel, who was just on the way back. "Brunette. Th' major hair groups. Hairdresser's nightmare."

Crystal found that hilarious for some reason, so of course when Mel got back to the table she had to be filled in. The laughter went on for a little while; when it died down, Crystal turned to Mel. "What favour'd you ask Atropos for? If you don't mind me asking, I mean. If it's top secret cape stuff, I'm hip. I can deal."

"Nope, it's fine." Mel hit her drink hard, then nodded as she put the glass down. "That bottle had dust on it, but damn this is good booze. And I know good booze. So, the favour is that me and my Crew can come back, so long as we don't do crime." She took another drink, then grinned at them. "And she said yes!"

"Woo, congrats!" Anne tried to high-five Mel, and succeeded on her third attempt. "You're part of th' Atropos fam now. Welcome back."

"I'm part've it too," confided Crystal. "Vicky calls me up when she's not sure what's going on, an' just unloads on me like a tump druck. Everythin' that's goin' on. So Amy's been sneakin' out to do stuff with Atropos, an' now she wants t' go rogue. Coincidence? I think not!" She tried to tap her nose with her finger; it took two tries. Crossing her eyes, she went for a discreet belch, but ended up rolling one out that probably rattled the glasses at the bar.

That got more laughter, and a high-five from Mel. They kept drinking.

<><>​

The Supreme Earth (known to some as Earth Shin)

Goddess

"Highness, I ask this purely out of concern. Are you certain that this is a wise course of action?"

Bianca raised a stately eyebrow as she gave Tori a searching look. "Of course I am certain. Everything I do is the right thing to do. The moment I received word of this Atropos, I knew she was the perfect tool for my aims."

Earth Bet was technically cut off from the Supreme Earth (as was the right and proper designation for the Earth where Bianca resided) and there were many capes living there, far more than on the Supreme Earth. However, there were gaps and cracks, and information had a way of finding its way everywhere. And no cape had captured the public imagination since the early days of the Protectorate like Atropos had.

Bianca had only learned about Atropos in the last few weeks, and she had been preparing busily ever since. One such as she who could destroy the likes of the Slaughterhouse Nine and the Endbringers would be ideal for hunting down and scouring out the last holdouts of resistance against Bianca's rightful rule over all of the Supreme Earth. As the loyal enforcer of the reign of the Goddess, Atropos would of course be rewarded handsomely for her continued service.

Tori tried again; misguided though her doubts might be, she was unquestionably faithful to her liege. "I've heard rumours that she can see a trap before it's sprung, and always knows how to destroy her opponent. Their PRT has this posted up in every building." She handed over a sheet of paper.

Bianca huffed and started reading.

The Rules for Fighting Atropos

Three lines in, she looked up from the page. "Immaterial. We will not be fighting her."

"I'm just saying that she's terribly dangerous, Highness. She may choose to oppose us. And there are many examples of her predicting when and where her opponents will attack. Also, she has boasted of the ability to remove Master effects from herself."

"I know all this. Did you think I do not know this?" Bianca shook her head in annoyance. "Tell me: has my sense of imminent danger ever failed me? Has it ever not warned me of a foe before they got close enough to attack?"

Tori was forced to concede that one. "No, Highness. It has not."

"Well, then." Bianca allowed herself a superior smile. "I sense no danger in the offing. This means that either the dimensional barrier that separates us is sufficient to shield her senses from me, or my abilities are sufficient to overwhelm hers. Is the device ready?"

"Almost, Highness. I spoke with the artificers and they claim they need less than a day to complete it."

"Excellent." Bianca gestured gracefully, dismissing her lieutenant. "If there was nothing more?"

"Just …" Tori grimaced, evidently unwilling to contradict her sovereign. "What will you do, once she is here, if she then presents as a danger to you? If her powers are able to detect you, and if she can throw off your control? What then?"

"Ah." That was a possibility Bianca had not seriously considered. She didn't think it was at all likely—nobody in her presence or hearing her voice had yet managed to ignore her influence—but it was probably a good idea to humour her lieutenants in their concerns. "How would you suggest we keep her in line, in such a case?" She would not be following orders, of course, but accepting suggestions was a useful way of informing her own decisions.

"She has both a 'fan club' and a cult devoted to her name," Tori replied after a moment or two of thought. "Once we have her within our power, we can then send our agents to extract the leaders of both. Keeping them at widely separated locations, we will not even need to issue overt threats. She will know what is meant, and if she has any feeling for either one, she will comply."

Bianca frowned. "Why not simply place them under my influence? That way, they won't be inclined to attempt escape, and can urge her to follow my directives."

"Not necessarily a good idea, Highness." Tori cringed as Bianca's frown deepened at the implied criticism. After a moment, Bianca nodded for her to continue, and Tori relaxed a little. "If she cannot sway them back to her side, she may consider them dead to her and choose to give them final rest, then turn against you. I do not believe that we've seen her angry yet; nor do I care to."

Reluctantly, Bianca nodded. Tori made good points, as unlikely as that scenario may be. "Fine. Do it that way. Let me know when the final preparations are complete."

"As you command, Highness."

<><>​

NOT. A. WORD. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?

"Y-yes. Not a word of warning."

GOOD. Bony knuckles popped. THIS IS GOING TO BE FUN.

<><>​

Laserdream

"Boyfriends?" Crystal shook her head as she unlocked her dorm room door, then regretted it as the world swayed around her. "Not worth it. If you're dating someone who's not a cape, then they're either too intimidated to make a pass, or they just wanna be able to say they fucked a superhero. Found that one out early on." She growled in her throat at a few memories that popped up. "Not early enough." The lock clicked, and she pushed the door open. "C'mon in."

"Damn, that sucks." Anne swayed a little as she followed Crystal inside, with Mel bringing up the rear. "Hey, nice room. Li'l heavy on the cape posters though, isn't it?"

"Hey, you do what you know." Crystal gestured at the posters. "All signed. Perk of bein' in the biz. Bat your eyes an' say you're lookin' for pointers, and they'll sign damn near anything. How about you? Boyfriends?"

"Pfft, nah." Anne leaned over to look at the signatures on one poster, then lost her balance and half-fell onto Crystal's bed. "Hahaha … wooow. No, guys are all either wannabe lawyers or scared 'cause daddy's a lawyer. Nothin' in between. Sucks. I got needs too, y'know."

"I hear you." It was Mel who'd spoken; Crystal and Anne both looked at her, and she gazed owlishly back at them. She'd been hitting the whiskey instead of the wine coolers and had caught up to them, drunken-wise, with impressive speed. "Know what's worse thing about bein' leader of a villain team? They all see me as mom, y'know? If I screwed any one of 'em, it'd be weird. An' throw the whole dynamic off. But mainly be weird. An' I can't just find a villain guy, 'cause he'd prolly try an' stab me in th' back. So I'm alone at th' top." She giggled, but it was more of a sob. "I go through so many damn batteries."

"Here's to batteries." Crystal sat down on one side of Anne, and Mel on the other.

They dug into the bag Mel was carrying; when the Rec Center had closed, she'd negotiated with the bar staff, and they'd come away with more wine coolers. Ceremoniously, Mel handed out a cooler to each of the other two, then took one herself. The caps came off, and they clinked the bottles together. "To us," Anne proclaimed solemnly. "Friends f'rever an' f'rever."

"I like having friends," Mel said, putting her arm around Anne and hugging her close. "Y'r a good friend, for listening. Don' have too many of those."

"Yeah," agreed Crystal. "Never had a villain friend before. Orra lawyer daughter."

Anne giggled. "I'm inna cape san'wich. Hero one side," she kissed Crystal on the cheek. "Villain on th' other."

Crystal was just taking another drink when Anne's second sloppy kiss landed right on Mel's lips. Mel looked startled. Then Anne kissed her again. That one was a lot less accidental and a lot more serious. Mel didn't resist.

"Uh, I'll just—" Crystal got exactly that far before Anne's arm snaked around her neck and pulled her close. Um, is this a bad idea?

Then Mel's lips pressed against hers, warm and inviting. The last remnants of her good judgement fought a losing battle against alcohol, and how long it had been, and the way Anne was nibbling at her neck, and she found herself kissing the villain right back.

After that, things got wild.



Relevant Side Story

End of Part Seventy-One

 

A Darker Path

Part Seventy-Two: Endings and Beginnings

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


8:00 AM Friday, March 4, Brockton Bay College

Faultline

"I can't believe … what were you thinking?"

Melanie sat on the plastic chair in the dorm lobby while Brandish and Lady Photon took turns admonishing a downcast Crystal. Neither one was in costume, though everyone knew who they were; it seemed that they wanted to keep this low-key. For a given definition of 'low-key', anyway.

At the far end of the same room, while campus security stood around looking a little embarrassed, a similar scene was playing out with Anne and two older people she assumed were her parents. Outside the lobby, through the glass doors, she could see the redheaded girl from the pictures Anne had shown them, along with the other members of New Wave, including Glory Girl and Panacea. They weren't in costume either.

She wasn't sure how New Wave had gotten her villain identity. Maybe Anne had blurted out that she'd slept with a hero and a villain at the same time (this had apparently been a secret fantasy of hers, though maybe involving guys instead of girls) or Crystal may have let slip something by accident. It didn't matter now; fortunately, the Barneses and New Wave were just as reluctant to broadcast the full aspect of their respective daughters' indiscretions to the world as she was.

Of course, she had her own problems to deal with here. There was nobody coming to admonish her (though she'd half expected Atropos to show up, just on principle) but she didn't need anyone. She was quite able to haul herself over the coals for such an unprofessional lapse in standards. Worse, she'd forgotten to lock the dorm room door behind them, so when Crystal's friend barged in instead of knocking, they'd still been in the process of waking up and untangling from each other.

The respective hangovers hadn't helped. Nor had the shouts of 'haha fucking WHAT?'

Events had rapidly gone downhill from there. Campus security had been summoned and New Wave had shown up in force, as had the Barnes parents. She'd been briefly interrogated by Manpower and Flashbang:

'What are you doing back in town?'

'Atropos invited me.'

'Oh.'

After that, she'd been left alone to try to figure out her next move.

It seemed that to be able to give Atropos' name as a reference actually opened doors, or at least closed doors that she wanted kept shut. The actual cops hadn't shown up yet; neither had the PRT. The impression she got was that the College also wanted this kept as low-key as possible, so they were dragging their heels as much as possible on informing the actual campus cops. Moreover, she was pretty sure she'd figured out why.

Finally, she sighed and stood up. She knew damn well that she'd never hear the end of this once the rest of the Crew found out; Newter in particular would probably fall over laughing. Even Gregor was likely to make a few jokes of his own. But that was for later. Here and now, this was the situation she had to deal with.

One of the security guards looked her way, and made as though to say something. She raised her eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"Uh … I think you're supposed to stay there."

"No." She moved forward, getting into his personal space. Involuntarily, he backed up a step. "The heroes on site haven't arrested me. You can't arrest me, because you don't have that power. Now, I'm going to speak with them, and then I'm going to leave. If you think you can legally stop me, go right ahead."

She gave him time to think about it. It didn't take him long to figure out that he didn't have a leg to stand on. "Okay. Just don't … do anything, okay?" Anything that will make me call the cops, he meant.

"Wouldn't dream of it." She gave him a brief smile with zero humour to it, then made her decision. Turning left, she went over toward where the Barnes parents were still browbeating Anne.

They weren't yelling at their daughter over sleeping with both a hero and a villain and how that would look, so much as they were being Very Disappointed with her over drinking underage and making her father's name look bad. He was a lawyer of some sort, Melanie recalled Anne saying. Apparently, that sort of thing would lower the brand name value of his firm, if it got out too far. Personally, she figured it should be counted toward Anne's ability to make contacts across diverse segments of the population.

"If you'd just thought for a moment before—" Mr Barnes broke off when she approached. "What do you want?"

"Hi, I'm Melanie Fitts. I'll be moving back into Brockton Bay, probably getting a job with the Betterment Committee. And you are?" She held out her hand expectantly.

He was too much of a lawyer to not take that opening, shaking her hand curtly. "Alan Barnes, attorney at law. This is my wife, Zoe. Can we help you with anything, or did you want to offer my daughter more alcohol?" The suggestion that she vanish back into the woodwork was almost palpable.

She allowed the distaste to roll off her back, like water off the proverbial duck. In her time, she'd been sneered at by experts; this barely registered. "No. I wanted to help you realise something. Your daughter is an intelligent, funny woman who was drinking moderately and safely when I met her. She had the good sense to accompany us to her friend's dorm room when she realised she was intoxicated, instead of staying there alone. What happened then was entirely consensual, though admittedly somewhat alcohol-fuelled. It was, frankly, a surprise to us all."

"It still happened," Barnes senior gritted. "With alcohol you bought for her. Tell me why I shouldn't have you and the bar staff arrested for contributing to delinquency."

"You really want to go there?" Melanie raised an eyebrow; a trick she'd worked at getting right in the mirror. "If it gets out that the Rec Center has been serving students without carding them for years, the lawsuits will be epic, destroying the College's budget for years to come. Every student who's bought alcohol who's still underage gets charged with a misdemeanour. That includes Anne and Laserdream. People will find out that it was you who raised a stink about it. I'll ask you again: do you really want to go there?"

His eyes flickered, and she could tell the shot had hit the bullseye. "… no," he admitted, after a moment, looking down and away. That kind of shitstorm was something no law career could survive.

Melanie nodded. "So, here's what you do. You stop yelling at Anne and give her a hug. What happened last night was both unexpected and totally out of my experience, but it wasn't wrong. If you can accept that and move on, forget it happened, everyone has a happier life."

Alan and Zoe both became rather thoughtful at that, but Anne raised her head. "What about me?" she asked. "What about … well, us? Do we just … walk away? Forget it ever happened?"

Melanie chuckled wryly. "I doubt I'll ever forget last night. But I'm thinking that before we start thinking about 'us', we need to see if there's an 'us' when alcohol's not involved. I'll be around. We'll talk."

Giving Anne a smile and her father a nod, she turned and strode toward the other nexus of conflict in the room.

The Barneses, she figured, had been the hard nut to crack. With superheroes, she already knew which buttons to press. The fact that she'd been observing New Wave for years and already knew how they thought just made it easier.

They wouldn't enjoy it, but that wasn't her problem.

Brandish—no, Carol Dallon—turned to glare at her as she approached. "You've done enough damage! Get away from my niece!"

"I could do that," Melanie agreed. "But you do know you're going about this all wrong, yeah?"

Carol's eyes flared with anger. "I'll—"

"Whoa, whoa!" Sarah Pelham stepped in between them. "Carol, take a breath. Ms … what was your name again?"

"Fitts. Melanie Fitts." Melanie held out her hand to shake. "Like I told your husbands, Atropos has invited me back into town."

"But not to—" Carol shut up when a square force field appeared in front of her face. Melanie was impressed; Sarah hadn't even looked around.

"What do you mean, we're going about this all wrong?" Sarah asked. "This is a potential public relations nightmare, here."

"It could be, if you kept trying to suppress it. Streisand effect, and all that." Melanie gestured to the campus security. "But if you just took your cue from them, it might all just … go away. The College doesn't want a scandal. They don't want it getting out that they serve drinks to nineteen and twenty year olds. And as scandalous as three women sleeping together might sound to you, it's not actually illegal. We're all adults, and though it kind of happened by surprise, it was all totally consensual."

Sarah frowned. "So you're saying … just let it go?"

"What about the tabloids?" Carol snapped. "They'll be all over this like white on rice!"

"Repeat after me," Melanie suggested. "'So what?' Also, 'no comment'. If no big deal gets made of this, it'll fade away. Sure, it's up on PHO. We can't change that. But if we don't boost it, it goes away. The next big thing will take precedence." She chuckled. "I'm certainly not going to make a big song and dance over it. I'd prefer my return to Brockton Bay to be as uneventful as possible."

Sarah blinked. "Oh."

Crystal stepped forward. "And that's it? We just pretend that what happened between us … didn't?"

Melanie smiled. "Anne asked exactly the same question. And I'll give you the same answer I gave her. Let's find out if there's an 'us' that doesn't depend on alcohol before we answer that question. I'll be around. I'm pretty sure I can find your number."

Carol stepped up alongside her niece. "I'll be watching you," she promised.

"So will Atropos," Melanie reminded her. "I know who I'll be paying attention to."

Giving Crystal a smile and Sarah a nod, she strolled out of the lobby into the morning sunlight. The New Wave kids and Emma Barnes turned to stare at her as she walked past, and she waved but did not stop.

The drive back to Boston would probably give the hangover time to subside, but then she'd have to find out if the Crew had heard yet. With her luck, they had. And they'd remember it a lot longer than the public would.

Yeah, this is gonna be no fun.

<><>​

9:00 AM, BBBC Marshalling Yard A

Danny Hebert

Leaning back against the side of the Betterment Committee work vehicle with his arms folded, Danny observed Accord. His first impression of the guy was 'short', but that was quickly eclipsed by 'so uptight he needs the jaws of life to unclench long enough to take a shit'. Accord was neatly dressed, everything squared away; if it weren't for his habit of murdering people who screwed up his arrangements, he might have been a nice guy to know.

Well, he's not going to pull that crap in my town. If he even tries, I'll boot him back to Boston all by myself.

"The works appear to be going well." Accord sounded as pleased as he ever got. "Your Dockworkers are to be commended."

"They're good people," Danny acknowledged. "The capes are also settling in nicely. I can see them being a real asset in the field."

"I'm less than certain about Damsel of Distress." Accord turned to look at him. "We've clashed in the past. She has a reputation for instability." He didn't say any more, but he probably thought he didn't have to.

Danny knew exactly what he was attempting, and chose to nip it in the bud. "I saw to Ms Stillons' induction myself. What I saw in her was someone doing her best to leave her problems behind her and make a life for herself. She saved a man's life even before she officially started working for us."

"For capes, problems have a way of catching up again." Accord turned his head, looking at where an eighteen-wheeler had just turned in through the main gates of the marshalling yard. "Ah, here they are. Right on time. Good."

One after the other, the three semi-trailers pulled up, side by side so that their cargo could be properly admired. And what a cargo it was. Hemmed in by light cagework that served more as a safety rail than a restraint, each trailer held dozens of robots of different shapes and sizes, all looking around with what Danny interpreted as interest and eagerness.

Part of the cagework on the first eighteen-wheeler swung aside, and a lightweight Dragon suit jumped down to the ground and came over to them. "Mr Hebert," she said happily. "Accord. Good to meet you both. Two hundred and seventy-three robotic citizens, ready to prove their worth."

"Nice to meet you too." Danny shook her extended hand. "Wait, I know that number. All of them chose to come here? Just how hard have you been upselling this place?"

"I didn't need to." Dragon gestured to the robots, and they started disembarking from the eighteen-wheelers. "The consensus is that they want to learn about human society in a place where they'll be accepted for what they are before they start going their separate ways. Atropos said they'd be welcome to come and work here, so they decided this was the best place to start."

"Okay, then." Danny dusted his hands off. "I'm guessing you know all about their capabilities and their requirements, everything like that?"

Dragon nodded. "I do."

Danny smiled. "Excellent."

<><>​

1250 hours, PRT ENE Building

Director Emily Piggot, PRT

Emily sat at her desk, carefully writing on a pad with the pen that she'd been given after Ellisburg, when she'd been awarded a medal and invalided out of active service. A two-hundred-fifty-dollar writing implement, it had her unit badge engraved on it, along with its motto in Latin. Translated, the words would read 'No Retreat, No Surrender'.

She hadn't retreated, and she hadn't surrendered. She'd just been one of the only two people who had come out the other side of that conflict. Just two months previously, Calvert had met his richly deserved end at the hands of Atropos, leaving her as the last survivor of Ellisburg.

Now Nilbog was dead, and her own tenure in the PRT was drawing to a close. On the desk in front of her lay the cleaned and polished claw, still sharp enough to draw blood, that Atropos had retrieved for her. There were less than four months to go until she could announce the End of the Endbringers, then accept her own retirement. Renick had asked her in a private moment what she thought she would do with herself, afterward. She'd smiled and said, "Anything I want."

The note she was writing, a brief missive wishing Renick luck in his duties as Director—as a mainly administrative post, it should suit him down to the ground—came to an end, and she signed it with her time-worn scrawl. This was the last time, she realised, that she would sign anything at this desk. Then she folded it, slid it into an envelope, and wrote his name on the front.

Her briefcase was ready to hand, everything else she needed from her office already moved out; she placed the pen, the claw and the pad in the case, clicking the latches shut. This was the moment of apogee, of weightlessness before gravity took hold and dragged her downward once more. Turning the chair, she looked out over the city she'd striven to tame for the last ten years. Her smile was more of a grimace.

Crime had been like Sisyphus' rock, ever rolling downhill despite her best efforts. Under her direction, the PRT had done some good, as had the Protectorate heroes and the Wards. But it had always been too little, not focused enough where it needed to be, and hampered by a perennial lack of interdepartmental communication (not to mention endemic corruption).

And then Atropos had come along. If Emily was still going with the 'rock' analogy, Atropos had blown it to bits then smashed the remnants with a sledgehammer. She'd broken all the rules, made Emily want to tear her hair out more than once … and stopped crime dead in the water.

'Dead' being the operative word. With villain capes either deceased or decamped, the merely unpowered criminal element had suddenly been faced with newly energised law enforcement who no longer had to worry about costumed protectors. It hadn't helped the gangs at all when Atropos declared war on the drug trade within the city, and she didn't miss.

People had died. A lot of people had died. But in contrast to what normally happened at times like this, the deaths had all happened to criminals attempting to defy Atropos' dictates. She'd blithely brushed off Emily's attempts to moderate her efforts via Captain Reeves, and just kept on shredding the opposition with terrifying efficiency.

Two warehouses, exploded. A pair of eighteen-wheelers full of drugs, chased down and destroyed with ruthless efficiency. The boat in the harbour … she shook her head. So many idiots.

Even when the driving forces behind the criminal enterprises in Brockton Bay had been neutralised, Atropos hadn't stopped. Some had feared that she might start coming after ordinary citizens for imagined crimes, but instead she'd shifted focus. Building on the bounty for the Nine (Emily had a signed copy of the picture of Crawler and Hatchet Face in her belongings), she'd gone after the Endbringers, and shocked everyone with her success.

Now, as a direct result, Brockton Bay was on the way up and the PRT ENE was on the way down. They just weren't needed in their previous numbers, and she wasn't needed here at all. Atropos had literally killed the requirement for her to be in this city.

New York had more capes than Brockton Bay, and it had an active villain population. From what she'd heard, they didn't run quite so rampant as they had once done in Brockton Bay, and the PRT possessed competent leadership. She was looking forward to meeting them.

A new sheriff was coming to town.

There was a knock on her office door. Turning the chair back so it faced the desk, she stood up. "Come in."

Renick opened the door and stepped inside. Armsmaster and Triumph followed him up, with Miss Medic trailing behind; like the others, she was in full costume, every part neat and tidy.

"It's time, ma'am," Renick said respectfully.

It was indeed time. They'd gone over the paperwork that morning, and it was all due to take effect at thirteen hundred hours. Taking up her briefcase in her left hand, Emily stepped out from behind the desk. She'd thought over what she would say at this point—there wasn't much in the way of precedent for a PRT Director stepping down—but had decided to keep it short and simple. "You have the command, Director Renick."

"I accept the command, Director Piggot," he replied, just as formally. In lieu of saluting—Emily was uncovered, and Renick had never been military—they shook hands.

Armsmaster was next, extending his gauntlet. "Ma'am," he said gruffly. "Give 'em hell in New York."

The corner of her mouth curved up in half a smile as she shook his hand. "The heroes or the villains?" God knew she'd been almost as hard as the capes under her command as on the opposition.

His own smile answered her. "Whoever needs it, ma'am."

"Good answer." She turned to Triumph. "You'll be transferring out when you age up into the Protectorate, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am." He shook her hand carefully. "It'll be weird, not having you there."

She couldn't argue with that. "Well, whether you want to come to New York or go elsewhere, I'll be pleased to write you a recommendation."

"Thank you, ma'am." He caught her quizzical side-glance at Miss Medic. "She really wanted to come along. Said she had something to say to you."

"I see." Emily turned to the newest and youngest Ward who'd been under her command until about one minute ago. "I'm listening."

"Um, I know about your legs and your kidneys, and if you want, I can totally fix everything," Miss Medic rattled off all at once. "A few days to clone new kidneys and muscle mass, and an hour to implant. You'll be walking again inside a week. Properly, I mean. No post-op maintenance required." She stopped talking and gave a definitive nod. "That's what I wanted to say. Ma'am."

"Hmm." Emily recalled Atropos telling her exactly the same thing. At that point in time, she'd shoved it to the back burner, to think about later. Now, it seemed, it was 'later'. She looked Miss Medic over, observing her almost painful eagerness to please. "And this won't distract you from your regular duties?"

"No, ma'am." Miss Medic shook her head. "Cloning stuff pretty well runs itself, and operating on people is what I do." She beamed at Emily. "An' you've been really nice and gave me a chance to be a real hero, so I wanted to do something for you."

Emily nodded. "And I appreciate it. Once I've gotten my bearings in New York, I'll arrange for you to come down and we'll go over what needs to be done." She extended her hand. "Thank you."

Miss Medic grabbed it and shook it, her smile lighting up the whole room. "You're totally welcome, ma'am."

"Hm." Emily looked around at the bare office. "Director Renick, the passwords and safe combination are in the usual drawer. I'm sure you'll be able to find everything. If you have any queries, feel free to direct them to me. I wish you the best of luck with this madhouse. It's all yours now."

"Thank you, ma'am." This time, Renick cracked a smile.

With a nod to the others, Emily turned and walked out her office door. The heroes followed along behind, but stood back respectfully at the elevator, where just she and Renick stepped inside. The ride up to the roof went in silence, Emily deep in her memories.

When she stepped out of the roof exit, the chopper that was due to take her to New York was perched on the helipad, rotors slowly turning. But between her and it were two blocks of PRT personnel, with an empty lane running up the middle, and heroes and Wards standing back on either side. An order was barked; as one, the officers and troopers turned and saluted her.

God damn it. I knew this was going to happen. She could feel the unshed tears prickling her eyelids as she stopped and opened the briefcase, then pulled out something she'd packed for the occasion: a PRT ballcap, weathered and stained and worn, dating back to when she'd been part of the boots on the ground. Putting it on, she closed the briefcase and stepped out onto the roof proper.

She wasn't sure where the martial music was coming from, but it rose and swelled as she started toward the helicopter, her right arm snapping up into a salute and holding it. Holding a steady pace, she slow-marched to the transport then about-faced and dropped the salute.

At this point in time, other people would've given a speech. There would have been exhortations to do their duty, and to follow Renick's lead as they had hers. Emily wasn't big on speeches, and they knew all that already. "It's been an honour," she said, raising her voice so it carried to everyone. "Thank you." Then she turned and climbed on board the chopper.

The PRT officer who'd flown up in the helicopter to escort her back, a Major Halloran, saluted her as she entered the aircraft. She returned it, then pulled the sliding door shut and lowered herself into the closest seat. It didn't take long for her to get the five-point restraints sorted; the moment she did, the chopper's engine note deepened and the aircraft lumbered into the sky.

Looking out the window as the chopper turned in a lazy arc to head southward, she could see a large chunk of Brockton Bay spread out beneath her. Anyone who was less familiar with the city than she was might have missed the subtle signs of the rebuilding, but they stood out to her like bold print in the middle of a page. If she leaned forward and looked out toward the northeast, it was just possible to make out the emptiness where the Boat Graveyard had been.

Major Halloran handed her a headset, so she pulled it on over the ball cap. It cut external noise considerably and gave her a way to talk without shouting, which she approved of.

"Regrets, ma'am?" asked Halloran, his voice clear in her ears.

She thought about that for a moment, then shook her head as the helicopter forged its way southward to her new posting. "None whatsoever, Major."

<><>​

The Supreme Earth

Tori Heflin

"How are our Earth Bet agents progressing?"

"Understand, Highness, that it has been difficult to slip anything through the White Rock portal since the outbreaks—"

"I understand that. Now answer my question." Tori felt a ghostly hand close around her throat for a moment.

She was dedicated to solving her liege's problems, partly because this was the natural order of things, and partly because she didn't want to die. "They're entirely unaware that this has anything to do with Atropos. If they knew that part, they would probably refuse altogether. As it is, we had to offer them extra pay just to go into Brockton Bay and kidnap two teenage girls."

Goddess' expression twisted in anger. "They should be doing it simply because it's me who's saying so."

"Yes, Highness, I know. Unfortunately, they've never seen your face or heard your voice, so they don't know that."

"When they bring the two to the portal, they come through too." Goddess' expression hardened. "I will wish to thank them … personally."

"As you wish, Highness." Tori knew she would pass on the orders verbatim. She also knew it would spell the doom of the agents, or at least condemn them to a lot of pain before Goddess tired of punishing them.

But at least it wasn't her.

<><>​

Damsel of Distress

Ashley paused before opening the door and read the plaque on it again: DR PHOEBE TANNER. She bit her lip, knowing that she was going to have to knock, that Atropos would want her to knock, but she didn't like going into things blind, and despite her talk with Mrs Yamada, it wasn't Mrs Yamada in there.

Her phone buzzed. She took it out and found there was one text waiting for her. A sense of inevitability came over her as she read it: Go on in. It'll be fine.

Because of course Atropos knew what was going on with her.

On the other hand, this had previously led to her powers being fixed, and her ending up in an apartment that she still had trouble believing wasn't a dream. With serious money in her bank account and shops within easy walking distance, she was eating and sleeping better than she ever had before.

Raising her hand, she knocked sharply, twice.

"Come in, please." The voice was warm, matronly, comforting.

She took a deep breath and muttered, "God, I hope I don't regret this."

When she turned the handle, the door opened easily. Inside was a rather informally furnished area, not like any doctor's office she'd ever seen before. A lady in her late forties, on the overweight side, rose from a comfortable-looking armchair, putting a novel to one side. "Well, hello," she said with a welcoming smile. "You must be Ms Stillons. Or would you rather be called Ashley? Or by some other name?"

Ashley considered this. "What if I said to call me Damsel of Distress?"

"Then I'd do that." The answer came readily enough. "Is that what you want?"

"Maybe it is." Ashley let a smile flick up the corner of her mouth. "But let's go with Ashley for the moment."

Dr Tanner nodded agreeably. "Let's do that. If we're going to be on a first-name basis, you can call me Phoebe."

So far, this seemed to be a painless process. "Sure thing, Phoebe. So, how are we going to do this? I've never done therapy before. I just got told I have to do it."

Phoebe sat back down in the armchair she'd gotten up from. "Well, you can sit down if you want, or walk around, or even lie on the sofa. Whatever makes you comfortable."

Ashley noted that the chair Dr Tanner had chosen allowed her to see the whole room; the woman wasn't stupid. "I think I'll sit." The other armchair looked inviting, and if they were both sitting, nobody was standing over anyone. She sank into the cushions and found out that it was as comfortable as it looked. "Yeah, definitely sit."

Phoebe chuckled companionably. "Yes, they are like that, aren't they? So, you said you were told to get therapy. How did that make you feel?"

Ashley wriggled a little, feeling the cushions enfolding her. "Not thrilled, but it was Atropos doing the telling, so I'm here."

"Hmm." The sound was non-committal. "Do you think she did it to be mean? To provoke you?"

"No." Ashley answered automatically. "Atropos doesn't play by those rules."

Phoebe chuckled again. "Very true." She paused; when she spoke next, her voice was serious again. "Are you willing to talk about why you don't like the idea of therapy?"

"No. Yeah. I dunno." Ashley thought she'd figured out why, and she didn't want to lie to Phoebe. Even if the therapist didn't know, Atropos would. "My life's been fucked up for years, ever since I got my powers. Most of the time I tell myself that I'd be fine if my powers weren't so screwed up, but deep down I know it's not true. Me going to therapy just proves that I'm fucked in the head even now my powers are good." She paused. "I'm allowed to say 'fuck', aren't I?"

That drew another motherly chuckle. "Trust me, Ashley, I've heard a lot worse. You talk exactly how you want to talk. I won't be deducting marks for language."

"Thanks." Ashley tilted her head slightly. "I notice you didn't say I'm not fucked in the head, though."

"To be honest, I'd be astonished if you weren't suffering from some kind of long-term trauma stemming from your trigger event," Phoebe said seriously. "There have also been studies that suggest a power-based drive toward conflict, contrasting people from before and after they gained powers. Some people—not all, but some—became more violent, shorter tempered, more willing to lash out. Whether this is due to trigger trauma or a literal change in brain chemistry due to powers altering the body, is something we frankly don't have enough data on. Long story short, most capes need therapy of one type or another. Far more than actually get it."

"Oh." That was a shift in perspective that Ashley hadn't been expecting. It's not just me. It's everyone. "So, um, I'm not your only patient here?"

"Doctor-patient privilege says I can't give you names," Phoebe gently admonished with a twinkle in her eye. "But no, you are definitely not."

"I can deal." If Phoebe wasn't allowed to talk to her about the others, she wasn't allowed to talk to the others about her. Ashley could definitely live with that. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Your choice." Phoebe clasped her hands in front of her. "If you can't think of a subject, I notice that Atropos seems to be an important figure in your life. Would you like to talk about her?"

Ashley nodded. "Sure, let's do that. The first time I met her, she put a gun to my head …"

<><>​

Hebert Household Basement

Taylor

"What are you doing down here?" Cherie descended the steps into the basement, shading her eyes against the single hanging bulb to see what I was up to.

"Oh, hey." I glanced in her direction and waved, before going back to my work. Using a tray so I didn't lose anything, I'd dissected a bunch of nine-mil bullets, leaving a heap of double-base powder next to a bunch of cartridge cases and extracted bullets. Using a tiny measuring spoon, I was adding a measured amount of propellant to each case in turn before tapping the bullet back into place. Some of the bullets needed to get reshaped as well, so that happened before replacing them in the casings. "Working on some bullets."

"I can see that." She watched as I gave one case two and a half spoonfuls, then persuaded the bullet to seat itself just right in the mouth of the casing. "That's a lot of bullets," she observed doubtfully. "What do you need all those trick bullets for?"

"Not one hundred percent sure," I answered truthfully. "I have a few ideas, but nothing concrete. My power's being all sneaky." I gave her a grin. "As soon as I find out, I'll let you know."

She wrinkled her nose. "Your power's weird. Just so you know."

My grin widened. "It says thank you."

"That wasn't meant as a compliment." My power and I knew she wasn't being serious. We sparred like this all the time.

"Too bad. I'm taking it as one." I bent over my work again.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes." She gave me a quick side-hug.

I nodded toward where my teleporter was recharging on the bench, next to the bowl with the towel over it. "I'll be making one quick trip, but it'll take less time than that."

"Good." She headed for the stairs. "My lasagne waits for nobody. I figured out where I went wrong with the last one."

"There was nothing wrong with the last one."

"And yet, I have improved on it." She was at the top of the steps by now.

"I look forward to it."

The basement door closed behind her. After finishing up the last bullet I'd been working on, I picked up the teleporter.

<><>​

Philadelphia Parahuman Asylum

Mrs Jessica Yamada

The sound of Earl's power echoed through the room, a continuous harsh droning hum that was clearly audible through the earplugs Jessica was wearing. He stood apart from the others, a sheepish look on his face. He could barely hear the noise he was making, but he knew it was there.

Another loner in the room was Roderick, usually known as Sadboy. The closer people got to him, the more depressed they felt. Jessica tended to conduct his sessions with her over a video channel, because no matter how much she steeled herself against it, it always got to her.

They shared a single aspect with the other seventeen people in the room: they were, powers aside, human. Nobody there had a physiology that depended on their powers for survival, and all had volunteered when Jessica had raised the idea. They, of course, shared one other common trait. Each and every one of them had a 'power' that made it exceedingly difficult, if not downright impossible, to live normally in society without either hurting people or being hurt.

Pulling out her phone, Jessica checked the time. It was almost at the time she'd agreed with Atropos, and she held up a placard that she'd prepared earlier. FIFTEEN SECONDS. GET READY.

That got their attention. Everyone there had heard of Atropos. However, even knowing what they knew of her, they'd still volunteered for this.

The last fifteen seconds ticked down, then a shadowy portal appeared in the middle of the room. Atropos stepped out of it, holding a white ceramic bowl, of all things. She strolled casually over to Jessica and offered the bowl—no, the contents of the bowl—to her. As far as Jessica could see, they were green seedless grapes, all looking alike.

She realised a second later what Atropos wanted her to do; taking one grape, she showed it to everyone, and ate it. See, they're safe to eat.

Her mind insisted on telling her that she could taste something different as she chewed the grape and swallowed it, but she was pretty sure it was her imagination. Holding up both hands, fingers spread apart, she opened her mouth to prove she'd eaten it. The minor play-acting probably wasn't necessary, but every little bit helped.

Atropos seemed to be ignoring the main group as she took the bowl over to Earl. He took one, looked at it, then ate it. Jessica knew what would happen next; she'd seen it before with Sveta. Everybody else knew as well, but they'd only been told. There was a world of difference between the two.

A few seconds went by, then the droning buzz from Earl dropped off dramatically, then ceased altogether. It seemed to leave behind it a hollow booming noise, but Jessica knew that the room was silent. Cautiously, she pulled out her earplugs, followed by everyone else. "Holy shit, it works!" Roderick exclaimed. "Can I be next, please?"

"Sure thing." And before Jessica could warn her, Atropos casually strolled in his direction.

"No, wait, just put the bowl down!" Roderick, to his credit, tried to wave her off. "I'll come and get one!"

"It's all good." Apparently unaffected by the waves of horrific nihilism radiating off him at that range, she reached him and held out the bowl. "Pick one, any one."

Roderick stared at her as he took a grape and popped it into his mouth. "How … how are you … nobody can get this close to me!" He chewed and swallowed, still staring.

"Meh. I grew up in Brockton Bay. This is nothing." She managed the exact tone and timing to draw a laugh from the remaining patients, which intensified when the sadness field just … popped. Jessica felt a profound wave of relief, and wanted to laugh out loud herself.

"Rod! Dude! You're not sad anymore!" Earl covered the distance to Roderick in a remarkably short time and hugged him, lifting him partly off the floor.

Atropos turned to the others, who were staring at her as though hypnotised. "Okay, you've seen that they work. I know that some of you are fragile and some of you have other problematic powers, so form an orderly line without pushing or shoving. I brought one for each of you."

"What about the one Mrs Yamada ate?" someone called out.

"That was so she could demonstrate that they were harmless." Atropos gestured. "One at a time. Let's do this."

One by one, they came up to her and took a grape. For each grape eaten, a set of powers just … ceased to exist, leaving an ordinary person behind to join in the increasingly exuberant celebrations. When the last grape was eaten and the last (ex-)patient devoid of powers, Jessica went over to Atropos.

"Thank you," she said simply. "I know this is probably only a small thing for you, but you've made the world of difference for everyone here."

Atropos nodded. "Like the story about the kid on the seashore with the starfish, it matters to that starfish." She touched her hat brim with two fingers. "Toodles."

And then, like the problematic powers she had come to End, she vanished.



End of Part Seventy-Two