I, Panacea (Worm SI Fanfic)

I, Panacea

Part Three: Taking the Bull by the Horns


As the car rolled down her street, Amy felt the presence within her mind stir a little. When he 'spoke', his voice was calm, measured. So what's on your mind?

She was a little surprised. Can't you hear my every thought? You are in my head, after all.

The mental impression of a head-shake. Not if it's not at the front of your mind. You're not hearing everything I'm thinking, you know.

Oh. It was something - no pun intended - to think about. I've been thinking about what you've told me.

Oh. Well, that's good. Do you have any questions?

How serious are you that I should contact the Undersiders?

Utterly. You can help them, and I think they can help you.

The car pulled into the driveway, and Mark Dallon set the park brake and turned off the engine. Then he turned and looked at her. "You've been really quiet, Amy girl," he observed. "Something on your mind?"

Jarred out of the silent conversation, Amy blinked. "I, uh, a lot of things to think about after that bank robbery, Dad," she temporised. "Just working stuff out for myself."

He nodded. "Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, you know I'm always here."

She smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

"How's your head?"

Gingerly, she touched the lump; it was still quite sore. "I'll live."

Smiling, he clasped her shoulder for a moment. "That's good." He opened his door and got out; after a moment, she followed suit.

Entering the house, she made her way to her room and closed the door firmly, before sitting on the bed.

Okay, she formulated the thought, you say that the Undersiders can help me. How would they do that? And more importantly, why? I nearly helped capture two of them.

He was silent for a moment. Can we just go with 'can help you' for the time being? I don't think your trust level for them is very high at the moment, so anything I told you would be coloured through that perspective.

She paused, thinking about that. He was right, of course. The Undersiders were villains. They had robbed a bank, right in front of her. And that wasn't even counting what the girl called Skitter had done to her and Vicky. Of course I don't trust them. Why should I?

I can't give you a reason that you can depend on, right now, he replied. All I can do is ask you to keep an open mind.

What if I said I don't trust you, either?

A sigh. Then we're doomed.

She was startled. What?

His voice was sombre. If you can't trust me, if you won't follow my advice, then we're going to follow the same path of miscommunication and mistrust. Vicky will end up under care in an asylum, and you'll have yourself voluntarily admitted to the Birdcage. Thousands, tens of thousands, of people will likely die.

She was shaken by the sadness, the sincerity in his tone. What? That's not possible. What happens to Vicky?

You do.

No. I don't believe you. You're lying.

Not sure that I can, not about important things. Not to you.

Important things? You mean, you've lied to me about unimportant things?

A tinge of something like embarrassment. My name. 'Michael Allen' isn't my real name. But I used it for so long, the last time I was here, that I kind of used it by reflex this time.

She wondered briefly what he meant by 'the last time I was here', but decided to shelve the matter for another time. So what's your real name?

He told her.

Really? But that's -

Yeah. Look, it's not important. Call me whatever you like. We need to sort out what's going to happen right now. I can't force you to trust me, and I can't prove something that's not gonna happen for months. But we need to work together on this.

Her tone was bitter. Can't you just force me to do it? Control my body so I go where you think I should go, do what you say I need to do? It's not like I'll have any real say in the matter, after all.

No.

She frowned, puzzled. What? But before, you -

His tone was patient. I could, easily. But I won't. I choose not to. If we're going to work together on this, it's not going to be a master-slave situation. Equal partners. And I want you to be able to know that I won't abuse that control.

Oh. She considered his words for a minute. Okay. Standing up from the bed, she went to the closet. Can I change back to street clothes now, or are you going to freak out again?

A sigh. Right. Thanks for the warning.

As she opened the closet and pulled clothing out, she felt him retreat a little. His voice started up, again, reciting another poem, with which she was also unfamiliar.

On the outer Barcoo, where churches are few, and men of religion are scanty ...

She listened to the recital curiously as she changed, a smile crossing her face at some of the humorous verses. When she had finished, she raised her mental 'voice' slightly. Done.

Oh, good. He stopped reciting.

Now I'm going to talk to Mom and Dad. Mark and Carol.

Wait, what? What about?

You'll see.

His tone was concerned. It's not about me, is it? Because I really don't think this is a great time -

She cut him off. It's not about you. Trust me.

After a long moment, he replied. Okay, I trust you.

She relaxed just a little at that. The last thing she needed was for him to be grabbing control at an inopportune moment.

Leaving her room, she headed down the corridor to the head of the stairs. For a moment, she debated getting Vicky out of her room. She deserves to know this, too.

Know what?

You'll see. In the end, she decided to leave her sister in peace. There's always later.

Heading down the stairs, she saw her father in the living room, reading the paper, or at least looking at it. "Dad?" she asked. "Where's Mom?"

"I'm in the kitchen," Carol Dallon called out, before Mark could answer. "What do you need, Amy?"

Amy got to the bottom of the stairs and went into the kitchen. "I need to talk to the both of you, please?"

Carol, apron-clad and with a smudge of flour on her nose, opened the oven and peered in. Cooking smells wafted over Amy. "That smells nice," she told her mother. "What are you making?"

"A batch of cookies, to cheer your sister up," Carol informed her. "Can it wait?"

"Not really, but it shouldn't take long," Amy informed her. If I wait too long, I won't be able to go through with it.

With what?

You'll see.

Hm. Okay. He fell silent again.

Carol huffed a sigh of impatience. "Well, okay. What's it about?"

"I need to talk to both of you," Amy stressed. "Dad, too."

For a moment, she thought Carol was going to refuse, but she sighed again and twisted a clockwork egg-shaped timer to three minutes, and put it on the bench. "I can't leave these go for too long," she pointed out, then took off the apron.

Yeah, Amy thought dryly. And I notice you didn't make any to cheer me up.

The voice inside her head declined to comment, in a very pointed manner.

When they came out into the living room, Mark was still looking at the paper; as far as Amy could tell, he had not even turned the page.

"Mark," Carol began, “Amy's got something she needs to talk to us about.”

Mark looked up mildly and folded the paper. “Okay, Amy girl,” he invited. “What's up?”

Amy moved to where she could look both her foster parents in the face. “I want to know my father's name.”

There was a long, long silence. Amy fancied she could hear dust motes touching down on the table.

Well, holy shit. I am impressed.

She was irrationally pleased. Didn't expect that, did you?

No. No, I did not.

Was it the wrong thing to say?

On balance, I don't think so. But this is gonna be interesting.

Carol found her voice first. “Why do you ask that, Amy?”

Amy frowned. “Isn't it obvious? I want to know.”

You want to know if they'll actually come clean, after hiding it all this time.

Well, duh. Now shut up, I don't want to be distracted.

Mark glanced at Carol. “Would it be such a bad thing to tell her?” he asked. “After all, she is sixteen. Nearly an adult.”

Carol shook her head convulsively. “No.” She looked Amy directly in the eye. “It's better that you do not know, Amy. Better that the world doesn't know.”

“Why?” challenged Amy. “Because he's a supervillain? Because he's in the Birdcage? What possible reason could there be for keeping that from me?”

Carol went several shades whiter, until her face almost matched the dab of flour on her nose. “Who told you?” she whispered. “How did you know?”

Amy shook her head. “It doesn't matter. It really, really doesn't. What I want to know is, why won't you tell me?”

Mark opened his mouth. “Amy girl -” He stopped when Carol made a sharp gesture.

“Amy.” Carol's voice was low and controlled. “Yes, your father is a supervillain. We made the decision years ago not to tell you, when you were showing signs of forgetting who he actually was, so that you could live a normal life, without that burden hanging over you. So that you wouldn't have the doubt in your mind, am I like him?”

Amy shook her head again. “No, Carol,” she snapped. Carol's lips tightened, at Amy's tone. “You did it so that you wouldn't have to worry about me turning out like him.” She paused, deliberately. “Like Marquis.” She looked from Carol to Mark and back again. “Only you never forgot it, did you? You never stopped wondering if I was going to turn out like him anyway. So you treated me like I was going to.”

“Amy girl.” That was Mark. “I didn't … we didn't ...”

Amy gave him a sad smile. “No, you didn't. But you're only half the partnership here.” She turned back toward Carol. “You never, ever said that you loved me. You never hugged me. You've always pushed me to do better, to work harder, to try to please you, so that I would earn the same praise that Vicky always earned just by being Vicky.”

Carol found her voice. “I never made you -”

“No, you didn't,” Amy overrode her. “I loved you. Don't you understand? You were my mother figure. I wanted you to love me back, to approve of me, to hold me. I always thought that if I did a bit better, did exactly what I was told every single day, you might give me just a little of what Vicky got every single day of her life.”

The egg timer went off in the kitchen. Everyone jumped.

Amy took a deep breath. “Well, time's up,” she announced bitterly. “I'm going out.”

Mark stumbled to his feet. “Wait, Amy girl,” he told her. “I'll drive you -”

She shook her head. “Sorry. This is a 'me time' thing. I'll bus it.” Again, she gave him a sad smile. “Thanks for the talk.”

Grabbing her jacket, she turned and headed for the door. It banged shut behind her.

<><>​

Amy sat at the bus stop, waiting for the next bus to come.

Well, holy shit.

You said that before.

That was surprise. This time it was deep admiration.

What – really? I thought that went terribly.

There was a chuckle. There was no real way for that to go well, kiddo. But you didn't shout or scream, you got your message across, and you left before they could think up an appropriate rebuttal.

I was terrified. I think I nearly threw up.

Well, you didn't. So you did good.

Thanks. I think. Have I just alienated them?

Hmm, let me think. Have you just alienated the two people who spent the last ten years of your life hiding an important fact from you? Possibly. Did they deserve what you just said to them? Almost definitely. Will they treat you any differently? Well, it would be hard for them to treat you worse.

She blinked at that. I … I guess you're right.

How do you feel, now that you've gotten that off your chest?

Weird. I mean, I'm terrified of what's going to happen when I go home -

Eh. Walk in, pretend everything's normal. You'd be amazed how often that works.

And if they don't pretend everything's normal?

There was amusement in his tone. I don't think they'll be wanting to raise that particular topic again in a hurry, will they?

She thought about it. No, I don't suppose so. She paused. So, where are we going?

There was a pause. Uh, I don't know. You're driving, remember?

You said that I needed to reach out to the Undersiders. I'm reaching out.

What, really?

Yes. Really. Unless you were lying to me.

No, no, god no. I'm just a little surprised at your go-getter attitude all of a sudden. And pleased. Very pleased.

She hid a smile. I'm a bit surprised, too. It's amazing what a little revelation about one's origins will do. So, which bus?

Um, crap, I never actually memorised the bus schedule. She felt him take control of her head, and her eyes scanned the laminated sheet posted up on the bus stop wall. Unbidden, her finger rose to point. I think that one there will get us to the north ferry terminal, right?

You do know that the ferry's been shut down for the last sixteen years or so, right?

I know that. We're walking from there. It's about twenty minutes or so. Maybe half an hour.

That's not a good part of town.

So we'll walk fast.

I'm beginning to think this was a bad idea.

We can go back, if you want.

She set her jaw. No. We go on.

A mental impression of a smile. That's my girl.

<><>​

Lisa raised her head. “Someone's -”

Rachel's dogs burst into furious barking. Claws scrabbled on hardwood flooring as they bounded to their feet and ran toward the spiral staircase. It wasn't something they could negotiate in a hurry, but they kept barking as they descended the stairs.

“- out at the front,” she concluded.

Taylor turned her head slightly. “Yeah. Not an adult. A teenager, I think.” She paused. “They're alone. No-one within fifty yards. A hundred.”

“Banging on the door with a rock,” Lisa added. “She really wants to get in.”

“'She'?” asked Brian. “Really?”

“And she's right-handed, about five-four, and … sixteen years old,” Lisa retorted with an impudent grin, one that curled the corners of her mouth up.

Brian came to his feet; Lisa followed. Alec looked up as Brian put the game controller down. “Oh, man,” he complained. “We just got to the end of level boss, too!”

“Do we let her in?” asked Lisa. “She knows we're here.”

Brian's lips tightened. “Rachel, come on,” he snapped. “Let's get downstairs and see what this girl wants.”

“Should we mask up?” asked Taylor, a little nervously. “Does this sort of thing happen much?”

Lisa snorted. “Hardly ever.” She nodded to Taylor. “Go ahead, mask up.” She plucked the domino mask from where it was resting on the chair arm and put it on her face. “Alec, you too.”

“Aw, man,” complained Alec again, but he grabbed his mask and put it on. As he was still dressed in the majority of his costume, it fitted with the rest of his outfit. Taylor, however, had changed out of her costume into street clothes, so her Skitter mask just made her look extra creepy.

“They'll be bringing her upstairs so we can find out what the hell's going on,” Lisa confided as the sound of barking dropped away dramatically. Moments later, Grue's darkness billowed up the stairs, filling the room.

When it cleared, the newcomer was standing in the middle of the living area, held in a light arm lock by Brian. The hood of her jacket had been pulled up over her head, and down so that she couldn't see.

Taylor stared; she looked awfully familiar -

“Holy shit,” blurted Tattletale. “That's fucking Panacea.”


End of Part Three

Part Four

 

I, Panacea

Part Four: Villainous Interactions


Amy banged on the metal door with a rock she had found.

I feel silly. Are you sure there's someone home?

I'm certain of it. Hear those dogs?

What if they've gone out and left the dogs in here?

Nope, Bitch wouldn't do that. They're more dear to her than kids.

The barking was closer now, just inside the door that she was banging on.

You might want to drop the rock now.

Why?

So you don't look like a threat.

Oh.

She dropped the rock, just as the door was yanked open and three dogs leaped out. They circled around her, barking madly, as a tall black teenager and a shorter, stockier auburn-haired girl - Grue and Hellhound, she guessed – each grabbed her by an arm. Before she could protest, she was hauled into the warehouse and the door slammed behind her.

Grue pushed her against the wall, not hard, and frisked her, quickly and efficiently. He came away with her purse and her phone, but not much else. "What are you doing here?" he asked, holding her arm behind her back. "Why were you trying to break in?"

She was vividly aware of the dogs; no longer barking, they were eyeing her and growling ferociously. Hellhound stood off, watching her with a grim set to her jaw. Hostility fairly radiated from the female villain.

"Not trying to break in," Amy managed, turning her head to look at him out of the corner of her eye. "Wanted to talk to you guys. To the Undersiders."

"The fuck?" growled the girl, her head coming up. The dogs took a step forward, their growls intensifying in volume.

Amy felt the tall black guy's grip tighten on her wrist. "Rachel," he snapped. "Back off."

Hellhound - Rachel - stood for a long moment, a challenging look in her eye. Then, apparently satisfied that she'd proven that she did not just blindly follow orders, she stepped back and clicked her tongue. The dogs stepped back with her.

"You want to talk to us?" asked Grue. "We can do that."

I didn't like the way he said that.

He pulled the hood of her jacket up and over her head, and then down, so that she couldn't see anything except her feet. And then even they disappeared. She couldn't see anything at all. Even her hearing was muffled, almost to the point that she thought she'd gone deaf.

The presence in her head was calm, reassuring. You weren't meant to. He's just trying to intimidate you. Like right now, his darkness? Scare tactic. Keep you off balance.

Well, he's succeeding. But she wasn't as frightened as she might have been.

You're doing well. Just remember what we talked about. And Skitter isn't about to see an innocent get hurt. Watch your step. Spiral staircase coming up.

Trusting an awful lot in the goodwill of someone that Vicky threatened to send to the Birdcage. That I threatened to do awful things to with my powers.

Tempers were high, he assured her. Hurting someone in cold blood, that's something that Regent might do. Rachel's never really calm either. But Grue and Tattetale and Skitter won't let that happen.

She felt her left hand being guided on to a railing, one that curved up and around to the right. Grue – she presumed it was Grue – still held her right arm behind her back. Forewarned, she felt for the first step, while simultaneously being prodded, guided and supported by Grue.

The climb seemed interminable. Ascending a spiral staircase is by no means an intuitive process, given that the part of the brain inherited from one's monkey ancestors is used to climbing in straight lines. Doing so in the dark puts an even greater strain on the instinctive reactions. How much farther?

She could hear him mumbling in the back of her head. Twelve more steps. Thirty-three in all.

How can you know that?

Been here before. Counted 'em.

But how -

Long story. Maybe after we finish negotiating with the nice supervillains?

Okay. She shut up and concentrated on climbing steps. Step, turn, slide hand on rail, step, turn ...

Top step.

Okay, thanks. She put her foot flat to what felt like a wooden floor to her heightened senses, and was walked forward a little way.

And then the darkness faded. She could only see a little way in front of her, due to her hood still being pulled down over her face. But it didn't stop her from hearing Tattletale's voice.

"Holy shit. That's fucking Panacea."

<><>​

Amy reached up and pushed her hood back, looking around at the supervillains surrounding her. Regent, she recognised immediately, along with Hellhound, or Rachel, as Grue had called her. The girl with the dark blonde hair, which she was running her fingers through to shake out of a braid, wore street clothes, but her domino mask told Amy that she was looking at Tattletale. The other girl looked ordinary from the neck down, if a bit skinny. From the neck up, she was Skitter; already, bugs were gathering in a nimbus around her. More were swarming into the area with every second that passed.

She stood in a loft area above the warehouse. The floor underfoot was wooden, with rugs here and there. High windows, in need of cleaning, gave light, but did not afford a view from Amy's angle. Two couches, a big-screen TV on a stand, and a gaming console under the TV seemed to make up the majority of the furnishings in this room. A corridor led out of the area, but she had no idea what was in that direction.

Kitchen, bathroom, their bedrooms. Skitter has yet to move in.

She was almost startled by his comment. Oh, uh, thanks.

You might want to say something.

But she didn't get the chance; Skitter spoke first.

“Everyone, be careful of her,” the skinny girl warned them. “She can do more than just heal people. Grue, don't let her touch your skin.”

“Got it,” grunted the tall guy behind her, but before he could put word into action, Amy felt her limbs being taken over. She rammed her elbow into what felt like an iron-hard gut – God, does he eat barbells for breakfast or something? - raked her heel down his shin, and turned and twisted at the same moment. Caught off guard, he let go; Amy felt herself step back until her back was against the wall. Rubbing her wrist, she eyed each of the Undersiders.

What are you doing?

Showing them that you're not a pushover. Control was returned to her. They're wary of you now. Use that.

“Okay,” she stated clearly. “Now that I have your attention, please listen carefully.”

Check out Tattletale. She's just picked something up.

And it was true. The blonde was staring, eyes widening. “Guys ...” she began. “There's something off here. I think she might be Mastered.”

“Hey, that's my thing,” objected Regent. He waved in Amy's direction, and her knees began to buckle.

And then they didn't. Amy could feel the control inside her body overriding what Regent was trying to do.

“What the fuck?” he muttered.

“A strong Master,” Tattletale clarified. She stepped forward until she was a little over arm's length from Amy. “Okay, you brought Panacea here. What's your plan? What are you doing this for?”

“Tell Jean-Paul to quit it, and we can talk about it,” Amy heard herself say. She heard an indrawn breath from Grue and Regent; Hellhound didn't react, and she couldn't see Skitter's face. Tattletale's eyes widened just a bit.

Amy felt herself start to panic just a little. What are you doing? We can't antagonise them!

His voice was terse. We have to present a strong front, or they won't take us seriously. Okay, back to you.

Control returned to her; she took a deep breath.

“As I was saying,” she repeated, “I need you to listen carefully.”

Tattletale nodded. “Listening.” Her expression was intent.

Amy concentrated on what she had talked to Michael about. What he had told her about the Undersiders. What he had told her to say.

“You've got problems, and you don't even know it,” she began. “I'm here to help you fix them. To get past them.”

Grue had picked up his motorcycle helmet and was fitting it over his head. “What problems?” he asked, his voice hollow.

Amy held up her hand, ticked off points on her fingers. “Your boss does not have your best interests at heart. He wants to enslave Tattletale and, when Skitter becomes inconvenient, he'll kill her off if he can. He lied to you about the bank robbery; there was a reason for it, and that reason was so that his men could have the opportunity to kidnap a twelve year old girl. Also, I know his real name, and I know exactly what powers he has.”

Okay, give it time to sink in now.

“You could be lying,” Grue stated flatly. “Starting with basic information, cold reading us, trying to instil doubt in our minds. Playing with our heads.”

“I could,” Amy retorted. “But that's not me. That's what Tattletale does.” She looked directly at him. “I know about you, how you triggered, about your sister. How you want custody of her.”

He took a step forward. “If you're threatening … “

Amy shook her head. “Not threatening. Just letting you know that I know.” She looked from one to another, repeating what Michael was telling her. “I know stuff about each of you. Your names. How you triggered. Names of people who are or were important to you, once upon a time.”

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Skitter. “Kidnapped a twelve year old girl?”

Bingo.

Amy nodded in her direction. “Dinah Alcott. The mayor's niece. She's a powerful precog. He's getting her drugged up, so that she'll do whatever he says. Right. Now.”

It was hard to read Skitter's body language, given that her face was hidden, but she sounded shaken when she spoke next. “Tattletale, is that true? What she's saying?”

Tattletale hesitated for the longest moment. “I … don't know. I can't get a read on her. The Master keeps taking over, imposing his body language.”

Bullshit.

“Bullshit!” snapped Amy. “Also, more. Closer to home. The ABB is still looking to take you down.”

“But Lung's in custody,” objected Regent.

“Probably why they're so eager to get you out of the way,” Amy retorted. “Bakuda's hired Uber and L33t to help her do the job.”

Grue shook his helmeted head. “You've got to be kidding me. Those losers?”

“Plus a stack of ABB. Including conscripts.”

Skitter sounded honestly puzzled. “How do you conscript a gang member and expect them to hang around?”

“Easy.” Amy tapped the side of her neck. “Put a bomb in here, keyed to Bakuda's remote detonation control system. You act out, she sends the signal, you suffer the effect of whatever she put in you.”

Tattletale sat on a couch, rubbing her temples. “Fuck,” she muttered. “Fuck. Every time I try to work you out, you throw another curve ball. Fuck, my head's killing me.”

“Detonation system?” asked Grue practically.

“Heads up display in the goggles. Toe rings on her left foot,” Amy repeated Michael's words. “Big toe and next toe. She crosses them, the rings come into contact, sends out the signal to the bomb she's chosen.”

Tattletale threw herself back on the couch. “Toe rings,” she groaned. “Fuck, why didn't I pick that up?”

“Because you need to spend at least a little time interacting with someone to get information like that,” Amy pointed out. She was starting to feel a little more confident; with Michael feeding her the information, she was holding her own here.

“So we stay out of their way, or we kick their asses,” Regent proposed from his seat.

“Unless they ambush you,” Amy responded. “Rachel, you're thinking of taking the dogs for a walk sometime, right?”

Hellhound glared at her. “What's it to you?”

“Because they'll be waiting on you,” Amy explained patiently. “They capture you, force you to give up the location of the money, move the money,” she looked at the rest of the group, “and when you guys come looking for it, that's when they hit you.”

“You're talking like this has already happened,” Tattletale remarked. “Which really has me worried. Because I don't know any Master/Thinkers that are powerful precogs.”

“No,” Amy told her directly, quoting Michael's words. “And you still don't.”

Tattletale clutched her forehead. “Argh! Ow!”

Amy felt a little concerned. Is she all right?

Thinker equivalent of an ice-cream headache. She was following a line of inquiry and she ran head-first into 'nope'. There was a measure of grim amusement in his voice. She loves to troll people with what she knows. Turnabout is fair play.

I have to admit, with what she nearly did to me and Vicky …

Grue cleared his throat. “Okay, presuming we even believe you, what do you get out of this? So far you've come here and given us unsupported allegations. You haven't told us what you want out of all this.”

“You're going to need to check them up and act on them, one way or the other,” Amy pointed out. “I know that while some of you are happy with going along with your boss, others are less than thrilled about working for him, especially when it comes to the fact of kidnapped children. Or are you willing to live with the knowledge that you could have done something … and didn't?”

Amy's eyes tracked toward Skitter; the skinny girl had just moved uncomfortably. Even the bugs orbiting her were moving in a different pattern. Oh yeah, she doesn't like that one little bit.

“Hell, I'm comfortable with it,” Regent offered from his seat. “What I'm not comfortable with is some walk-in knowing shit like my real name.”

“That's because you're a sociopath.” Amy told him. “Probably not your fault. Heartbreaker was not a model dad.”

Silence again; Skitter's head turned toward Regent, who got out of his seat.

“Okay,” he snapped. “I've just about had enough of this -”

He was moving toward Amy, heavy-looking sceptre in his hand, when Grue got in his way.

“Sit. Down.”

“What the fuck?” snarled Regent, looking down at the large glove-clad hand that had been placed in the middle of his chest. “You're taking her side in this?”

“You keep sniping at her, you take your lumps,” Grue informed him.

“But she said -”

“She also warned us about the ABB,” Tattletale spoke up from the couch, where she was leaning back, eyes closed, hand on her forehead. “And gave us valuable intel on Bakuda.”

“If it's true,” Regent retorted sulkily.

“Oh, it's true,” Tattletale informed him. “She's not lying.”

“Unless she's being Mastered,” Regent pointed out. “Which you said she is.”

“Then the Master isn't lying,” she reiterated. “Either way, it's not a lie. She believes what she's saying. And it makes too much sense to not be true.”

“And what about the other stuff?” asked Skitter. “About the boss? Enslaving you? Killing me if I become inconvenient? The kidnapped kid? How is that okay? Why aren't we talking about that?”

“Because Tattletale knows who he is, and has a good idea of what his real power is,” Amy replied steadily. “And she's been given orders to not tell anyone …” She trailed off, because Tattletale had produced her little pistol again.

Christ, she really is between a rock and a hard place.

Amy couldn't formulate a reply, because she was staring at the muzzle of the gun. It was tiny, really, just a fraction of an inch across, but to her it looked enormous.

She felt him take over speaking for her. “And because he had her recruited at gunpoint,” she heard her own voice say, “and she can't be sure that I'm not pulling some sort of bluff intended to out her if she's intending to betray him.”

Grue stared at Tattletale. “You never told me that!” he blurted.

Tattletale sighed. “I never told you a lot of things,” she told him. “Panacea, you said before that you know all our real names. Was that true?”

She felt control return again. Tell her yes. The other ones are Brian, Lisa and Taylor.

“Uh, yes,” she confirmed. “Do you want me to prove it?”

A shake of the head. “No, don't bother,” replied the blonde. “Are you working for … for the boss, in any way?”

Amy shook her head. “No,” she stated firmly. “Just the -”

Tattletale held up her hand. “Don't say any more,” she ordered. “'No' is good enough for me. Right. You know stuff, and you've come to us to give us stuff, but you haven't yet told us what you want from us.” Absently, she put the gun away.

I need to save the world, and you guys are the first step. Plus, I'm going to need a place to stay.

What? I can't say something like that!

Why not?

Because it's … it's too corny, that's what! They'll never believe it. And do I really need a place to stay?

Not sure. Maybe. Okay, tell them this.

Amy cleared her throat. “I want you to help me rescue Dinah Alcott.”


End of Part Four

Part Five

 

I, Panacea

Part Five: Arguing the Point


"I want you to help me rescue Dinah Alcott."

Silence greeted her statement.

Amy looked from one Undersider to another, trying to gauge their responses. Skitter's full-face mask was almost impossible to read, although Amy thought she saw a change in the flight patterns of the bugs orbiting her. Grue, with his full-face helmet, was likewise a blank slate as far as she was concerned.

Regent's head came up; despite his full-face mask, she could easily tell his mood from the tone of his voice. “Really?” he asked – no, sneered. “You want us to turn against the guy who's been backing us for a year? Who's paid us thousands of bucks at a time just to stay on his payroll? Who's never steered us wrong yet?”

“No,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “I want you to turn against the guy who's been using you all this time. Who would discard or betray you in a hot Brockton Bay minute if it suited him. Who wants to take over the city, at every level, and is willing to do anything, to kill anyone, to murder or torture or enslave absolutely anyone - including any of you five - in order to do so. And who won't feel a moment's remorse about it.” She looked over at Grue. "And that includes your sister, if that's what it took to keep you in line," she assured him.

She saw his hands flex, clenching into fists. "What do you know about my sister?" he growled, his voice hollow inside the helmet.

"Just about everything that's important," Amy told him, trying to match Michael's careless tone. "How old she is, what she looks like, where she lives, what she wears, stuff like that. And," she added meaningfully, "the fact that you're in the villain game so you can take care of her, give her a proper home, keep her safe. And Coil will use that against you in a heartbeat."

There was a pause, as she realised what she'd just said, repeating Michael's words. Did you mean to say Coil's name? I thought we were going to keep that a secret for a little bit.

Oh shit. No, I didn't. Sorry, my bad.

Skitter spoke first. "Who's Coil?"

Grue was looking at Tattletale. "You mean to say our boss is Coil?" He turned to look at Regent. "Did you know this?"

Regent shrugged. "Didn't know, didn't care. Still don't, not really. Anyone who works for one of the big boys knows the score. Big money, but if you fuck up, big risks."

More and more bugs were swirling around the room; their buzzing was ramping up in intensity.

You see that? Skitter's always calm, collected. But that's because she puts her emotions into the swarm. They start acting like that, you know she's pissed.

Amy glanced at the skinny bug-controller. She didn't seem to be particularly upset or unhappy; even when she spoke again, her voice was steady and even. "I said, who's Coil?"

Tattletale glanced at Amy; the villain looked less and less happy by the moment. But she did not speak.

“A mid-to-low tier operator,” Grue told her. “I'd always heard he hired non-powered help. Didn't know capes were his thing at all. Hell, I didn't even know he had powers.”

“Oh, he's got powers all right,” Amy told him. “I'm fairly sure you think you know what they are, Tattletale … but I also suspect you're wrong.”

“Just wait a fucking minute,” Tattletale snapped. “Okay, this bullshit's gone on long enough.” She pointed at Amy. “I want to talk to you. Not to Panacea, and not to Panacea saying what the Master says to say. I want to talk directly to the Master.”

There was a pause, and Michael spoke delicately. You okay with me talking directly to her?

Mentally, Amy shrugged. Sure, may as well.

Right, thanks.

“You got me,” Amy heard herself say. “You realise I'm gonna keep infodumping on your group until you all decide to help out … Sarah.”

Who's Sarah? But then Amy realised by the look of shock on Tattletale's face that it must be her.

Wait a minute. You said her name was Lisa.

It is now. She changed it. Sarah's the name she was born with.

Tattletale – Sarah – was holding the little pistol again. She wasn't quite pointing it at Amy, but it wasn't far off either. “Keep doing that,” she growled, “and this interview gets a whole lot harder.”

Amy's shoulders shifted in a shrug. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“For a start,” Tattletale began, “who are you, and how do you know all this stuff?”

Amy's eyes rolled. “For fuck's sake,” her voice muttered, “why is it that even the people who know I'm telling the truth keep having to ask damn stupid fucking questions, instead of just acting on the information?”

“I've got the gun,” Tattletale reminded Amy, and by extension, Michael. “I ask the questions.”

“I'm not from this world,” Amy's voice stated. “As for my name, I have several, but for the moment, you can call me Security. As for how I know this … let's just say, I've studied your world for quite a long time. Years, in fact. I know your history, and how it's due to run. I'd like to put a short-circuit on some of the more moronic decisions that some of you people are going to be making. And step number one is saving the precog who knows when the fucking world is going to end.”

Very slowly, Tattletale put her gun away. “Okay,” she replied quietly. “I'm listening.”

Abruptly, there was a snort from across the room. Everyone looked at Regent, who appeared to be quietly laughing.

“You mind telling us what's funny?” asked Grue, in his hollow, echoing voice.

Regent pointed at Amy. “Her,” he chuckled. “End of the world? Really? That the best you can do?”

Amy felt her lips curling in a thin smile. “I wouldn't worry, Jean-Paul,” her voice murmured. “You won't live to see it. If I go away and do nothing from here on in, you're due to die in late July anyway. So for your own good, I'd strongly suggest you pay very bloody close attention.”

Regent turned to Tattletale. “She's fucking with me, right? That's bullshit, yeah?”

Tattletale stared at Amy, then looked over at Regent. “No,” she told him. “It's Security speaking, and he believes every word he says.”

Grue's head came up. “'He'?” he asked.

“'He',” confirmed Tattletale. “That's a man speaking through Panacea. Older, more mature. I'd say in his thirties … no, forties. And unless he's got total and absolute control over her autonomic system, he's telling the truth about everything. Including the end of the world.”

“Always keeping the secrets, huh?” Amy's voice carried just a hint of scorn. “If you didn't read more than that about me, then I'd suggest you put away the title of 'smartest person in the room'. Patrick Jane wants it back.”

Amy was puzzled. Who?

The mental equivalent of a grin. Tell you later.

Tattletale gritted her teeth. “Okay, fine. I also saw that you do know each and every one of us, in more detail than I'm comfortable with. But … you bear us no ill-will. You're honestly coming to us to help us out. To keep us safe. Because we're your best hopes for getting Dinah back … and because you actually happen to like us?” Her voice ended on a querying note, as if she doubted what she had just said.

Amy's hands applauded gently. “And there we are. All cards on the table. You each have problems. Working for Coil might seem to be helping, but not really. The phrase 'deal with the devil' might have been written for him, only by most accounts, the devil keeps to his bargains. Coil has no such scruples. Once the rest of this team loses its effectiveness, you're slated to be on the bed next to Dinah Alcott, drugged to the point where you can't resist, answering questions for him until you die or he does.”

She shook her head, frowning. “There's my problem, right there. It feels like you're telling the truth, but I've never, not ever, gotten a vibe like that out of him.”

Amy felt her head nodding. “And there's your problem. You're not seeing all of Coil. You see, his power is to effectively split time. He has two paths to travel down, and he can not only interact with the world differently in each path, he can discard one path the moment it ends up where he doesn't want it to be. But he recalls both paths as if he had travelled them both in person. So he might call you in for a quiet chat, sit you down, serve you tea or coffee … and meanwhile in the other path, he's got you strapped to a chair, pulling out your fingernails, cutting off body parts … or worse. All the while asking you questions about what you're saying in the friendly chat. Were you planning to betray him, that sort of thing.”

Amy wanted to throw up; she could visualise this, all too easily. But she didn't; her body was not her own, at the moment. She felt her head tilt questioningly. “So tell me,” Michael asked in her voice, in a gentle, coaxing tone, “have you ever had a quiet chat like that, where he seemed to know far too much about your business?”

The question was superfluous; Tattletale's face had gone white under her domino mask. “Oh, Christ,” she muttered. “Oh, fucking hell.”

Amy's head nodded. “Oh yes,” she agreed. “All of that. Now, imagine what a person like that, with absolutely zero moral restraints, could do with a twelve year old girl, a precog, whose power does not interfere with his. A girl who's being drugged into compliance, right this very second.”

Tattletale began to look positively unwell.

“We can't let this happen,” Skitter urged Tattletale, her voice a little agitated. “We can't … right?”

Grue stepped forward. “I don't like it either,” he stated firmly. “I like the money, but there's more important things than money.”

Regent stared. “Seriously?” he blurted. “What the fuck sort of talk is that? More important than money?”

Tattletale and Grue turned to look at him. “Are you standing against us on this?” Grue asked.

Regent shook his head. “No, shit, if it gives me a chance to have some fun, I'm with you all the way. But I thought this bleeding-heart shit was more the dork's thing. Not you guys.”

The dork?

Skitter. She only just joined, remember.

Ah.

“It's not about bleeding hearts,” Grue told him. “It's about cutting loose from someone dangerous before he hurts or kills one of ours. And if we're going to have him as an enemy, we don't want him also having access to the Alcott girl.”

But Amy's head was shaking. “You're not going to have him as an enemy,” her voice stated bluntly.

“Why not?” asked Grue.

“Fuck. Me,” whispered Tattletale, her face turning white once more. “You want us to kill him.”

<><>​

“Well, that was well handled,” Carol commented acerbically.

Mark looked at her, confused. “What? What was I supposed to do? Tie her up and carry her up to her room? Lock her in there till she turned eighteen?”

Carol shook her head. “No. But you would have done a lot better if you hadn't just sat there, nodding your head like a wooden dummy. Backed me up a little, maybe.”

“What?” He stared at her. “Lied about Marquis? She already knew about him. How she's a supervillain's daughter. The cat was already out of the bag.”

“If there's one thing I've learned in court,” Carol snapped, “it's that it's not the truth that matters, but what sounds best. We could have spun it, convinced her that she had bad information.”

Mark shook his head. “We already made the mistake of not telling her about him, back when she first asked. Outright lying to her? When she found out – and she would have found out – there goes all trust she ever had for us.”

“She might not have found out,” Carol objected, but it was weak, and she knew it. “And anyway, where did she find out? How did she find out?”

Mark shrugged elaborately. “I have no idea.”

Carol eyed him suspiciously. “You drove her to the PRT building and back. You had plenty of time to talk. And she's been acting a little bit off since the bank robbery.”

Mark stared at her. “You think I told her?”

“You could have,” she pressed. “And you've never been totally happy with keeping her in the dark.”

“But I agreed to,” he argued. “And I didn't tell her. Not about that.”

“What did you talk about?” she asked.

“Stuff,” he replied with a shrug. “The mayor's family. Not much, really. She spent most of the drive looking out the window.”

“So, nothing at all about Marquis at all, then?”

He threw up his hands. “For Christ's sake, Carol, no. Nothing about him at all. Full stop. Period. Exclamation mark. Quotation mark. End of sentence.”

Carol frowned. “So why was she acting strangely when she came back?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “She was hit on the head, Carol,” he reminded her. “Vicky's normally up and about like wildfire, but she's lurking under the covers like she never wants to come out. So Amy's not the only one acting strangely.”

“But Vicky was actually hurt,” Carol insisted. “Bug bites can cause severe allergic reactions. Amy just got a little bump on the head.”

“I don't know then,” Mark responded non-committally, dropping his gaze to the paper before him.

“I've never seen something get Vicky like that before,” Carol went on, not listening to her husband. “What happened, anyway? Amy was there. Why didn't she back Vicky up?”

“I don't know that either,” Mark replied, turning a page of the paper.

“And why didn't she heal Vicky before they even got back?” Carol's voice had risen slightly. “Those welts and bumps … ugh.”

Mark turned another page. “I'm sure I don't know, dear.”

Carol stared at him. “Are you reading the paper? We're having a discussion!”

Mark stood up and folded the paper under his arm. He headed for the stairs.

“Where are you going?” demanded Carol from behind him.

“Upstairs,” he told her, without looking back. “So you can have your discussion in peace.”

And all she could do was stare, with her mouth hanging open, as he climbed the stairs.


End of Part Five

Part Six